Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3225734.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Big_Hero_6_(2014)
  Relationship:
      Hiro_Hamada/Tadashi_Hamada
  Character:
      Hiro_Hamada, Tadashi_Hamada
  Additional Tags:
      hidashi, Masturbation, Solo, Sibling_Incest, Young, Sleep, Violence, Anal
      Sex, Anal_Fingering, Pre-Canon, Mutual_Masturbation, Multiple_Orgasms,
      Complete
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-24 Completed: 2016-06-08 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 12586
****** Those to be Sacrificed ******
by MisterCottontail
Summary
     One year before the events of Big Hero 6, Hiro Hamada is exploring
     some powerful new urges, and coming to some personal realizations
     that he is not wholly comfortable with.
Notes
     This is set within ‘canon universe,’ one year before the events of
     the film. First fic I’ve written in close to 8 years, so things are a
     bit rusty. If there’s interest, I’ll keep going - if not, I’ll assume
     it’s time to retire.
***** Prologue *****
Steam rises from the gutters and sewers of San Fransokyo as the rain slowed –
the first break in the weather in days. The underside of heavy rainclouds are
painted in Technicolor reflections of the colorful city below. Thick cables
float aimlessly in the sky, massive turbines at their ends hidden beyond the
cloudbank. Here, in the center of the city, the pounding techno rhythm of an
opening nightclub plays harmony for the weeping tones of a shamisen player in
the closing tea shop across the street. It’s the sleepiest hour in the city –
the streets are populated only by those closing shop and heading home, and
those opening their doors for the night shift.
A red trolley breaks into view through the last falling mist of the last summer
storm of the year, carrying a dozen weary workmen and a black-haired boy
clutching a heavy bag. His navy hoodie is soaked through, revealing the slender
limbs within its sleeves. His bangs cling to his smooth forehead as if painted
on. His legs are pulled close to his body as he leans back in the creaking
trolley seat, sucking as much warmth as he can manage from the electric heaters
built into the walls of the vehicle. As the trolley crests one of the city’s
many hills, he quickly reaches out a hand to tug the worn chain running along
the roof of the carriage. A quiet ding signals the trolley driver to stop,
allowing the boy to pour out of his seat and out the back door on gangly legs.
He jogs quickly across the empty road, skipping onto the curb and in the door
of a small diner, his face momentarily aflame with the red neon glow of their
‘Open 24 Hours’ sign. Without breaking stride, the boy steps quickly through
the room, sneakers squeaking loudly on the tile floor, before sliding into the
furthest red pleather booth and tossing the bag onto the Formica tabletop. He
sighs heavily, dripping rain onto the seat around him.
“You’re late,” a voice filters through to him from behind a damp newspaper
across from him. Calloused fingers move with concentration, neatly collapsing
the paper into a folded rectangle on the table. “Hiro, where were you?”
“’Dashi, I…” Without the paper blocking his brother’s stern glare, Hiro felt
his confidence shake.
“Don’t ‘Dashi’ me,” Tadashi held one finger toward him, accusingly. “You were
supposed to meet me at school. I was counting on you.”
“I was…”
“No excuses!”
“You asked me where…”
“Enough!” Tadashi sighed, dropping his face into his palm. “It’s late. Let’s
get home before Aunt Cass starts calling SFIT.”
Rolling his eyes, Hiro stands to deliver a retort, only to be interrupted by
the loud grumbling protests of his empty stomach. “I guess I forgot to eat.”
Without lifting his head, Tadashi sighs and begins fumbling for his pocket.
“I’ll call Aunt Cass.”
***
Hiro watches his brother doodling in the blank margins of the folded newspaper.
Formulas and grids surrounding tiny organic figures, each shaded with smudged
graphite, forming miniature models that will inevitably be forgotten among a
hundred other lost ideas. He draws a plastic straw into his mouth with his
tongue, absently sipping on the last remnants of a milkshake, swallowing
without tasting it. Long minutes pass before Tadashi realizes his younger
brother has been stalling.
“Come on, Hiro,” At the sight of his brother’s drooping eyelids, he can’t help
but smile. “Let’s go home.”
The late dinner has wasted the storm’s respite, and the rain is falling again
in slow lazy sheets as they jog over the gutter and onto a passing trolley. The
slow and consistent rhythm of the carriage lulls the younger Hamada into a
shallow sleep, his head lolled to the side and his mouth hanging open. The
storm has returned to full force by the time they sidle noiselessly through the
front door, up the stairs, and past a sleeping aunt into the attic room they
share.
Upstairs, by the glow of a desk lamp, the boys stretch and sigh, almost in
unison. Hiro is already halfway to his computer – tucked under the eaves on one
side of the expansive room – when he hears the wet slap of Tadashi’s soaked
sweater landing in the empty laundry hamper. He stops, and something urges him
to turn, though he doesn’t. Resolutely staring straight ahead at the blank wall
he’s facing, Hiro’s feet are glued to the floor. He hears, behind him, as one
shoe hits the floor, then another. He hears his brother sigh as he stretches
one more time, peeling off his undershirt.
Why do I feel like I’m choking?
Hiro’s eyes dart back and forth, catching a reflection in the dark window. In
the glass he sees the curved musculature of his brother’s torso shining in the
yellow glow of the incandescent bulb.
Warm…
“Hiro, are you all right?”
Hiro spins in place, suddenly aware of his held breath.
“Yes!” He shouts, too loudly. “I, uh…” Now you’re too quiet! Speak normally! “I
forgot to feed Mochi.” Hiro’s eyes dart around as he speaks. It’s hard to
concentrate. He keeps staring, feeling his pupils cling to the wet skin shining
on Tadashi’s collar bone; the subtle line by his hip that draws Hiro’s eye from
his abs to his waistband and beneath. A drop of rainwater draws a meandering
path down a bare arm that is far too strong for someone that spends so much
time in front of a monitor. “I’ll just go do that. The cat. Feeding him. Before
bed – Good night!” He’s already sloshing back down the stairs as Tadashi calls
back.
“That cat eats enough as it is – he’s going to get fat between you and…”
Hiro is out of earshot, around the corner and into the living room downstairs.
The room is empty now – the TV off, lights out. Aunt Cass must have slipped
into bed once she heard the boys return. Relieved, Hiro collapses against the
wall, his wet clothes sending a chill up his spine as the cold cloth is
sandwiched between back and plaster.
“What was that?” He whispers to himself. His heart is still racing, his stomach
tense. Is his hair still wet from rain, or is that sweat? His fingertips are
tingling, as if his hands can’t get enough blood. Shaking his arms, Hiro leans
forward, looking down at himself.
Wet, cold, and exhausted, the thirteen-year-old is prepared to berate himself
for over-doing it, probably getting himself sick. What he isn’t prepared for is
the reason behind this stirring tug in the base of his stomach.
A few mental puzzle pieces fell slowly into place as Hiro noticed the firm
desire of his boyhood fighting against the tension of his one-size-too-small
pants. He found himself suddenly reliving memories of early explorations of
dark corners of the internet, the way he always caught himself paying more and
more attention to the way the men’s hips thrust forward, rather than the girl
they were thrusting into. He remembered innocent games with friends – back when
he had friends – and the way his skin tingled when it was the boys’ turn to
play. How sometimes, only sometimes, the breasts and pouting lips in his mind’s
eye were less and less common when he took care of himself at night, after
Tadashi fell asleep.
“I’m gay?” Hiro groaned, relieved to feel his prick slowly receding – arousal
being replaced by entirely less favorable emotions.
He sat there, slumped against the living room wall, thinking in the dark. It
could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but soft snores were audible
throughout the house before he finally made his way back upstairs.
The dim glow of streetlights outside filtered through the rain and dust to cast
a pale yellow glow across the room. Despite the weather, it was still warm in
California, and Hiro could clearly see his older brother lying sprawled in bed,
a single thin sheet draped over his body. Hiro stood still, staring and feeling
his nerves twist.
“OK,” he spoke so quietly, he may have been thinking it, “you believe in
science, so let’s do some science.” That sounds weird. Why are you saying it
like that? “Let’s do one quick experiment, and we’ll know for sure.” Hiro’s
chest is tight, his mouth dry. One step closer. Then another. He steps on the
heel of one sneaker, slips his foot out of it, and then the other. Two more
steps. He’s moving more quietly, now, already thinking through a dozen excuses
for what he’s about to do. By the time he’s talked himself out of it, he’s
already beside Tadashi’s bed, his fingers clenched around the bed sheet.
He tugs, gently.
Tadashi’s chest rises and falls with the steady breath of sleep. Hiro can see
his ribs as Tadashi’s chest expands, notices how perfectly his own fingers fit
in the subtle grooves between those bones. His skin is smooth – almost perfect
– and it looks as soft as velvet in the murky light.
He tugs again. The sheet falls to the foot of the bed as Hiro releases it. He
clamps one hand over his mouth, quieting his heavy breathing, and the other
hold his stomach as if holding it firmly in place. A loose pair of shorts draws
a curved white border just under Tadashi’s hip bones. Hiro’s eyes trace the
lines of the older boy’s abdomen, following the angle of the hips until they
disappear beneath the waistband. Hiro’s fingers are trembling, he can’t keep
them still. He feels blood throbbing through his veins like fire, and cannot
ignore the longing swell of his cock. It’s almost painful in these pants he
outgrew almost as soon as they were purchased.
This is it - Hiro thought to himself, as if there were still some lingering
doubts of sexuality he could will into his brain - Take a quick peek, see what
it feels like to look, and you’ll know. He can’t control his breathing now – he
can hear each exhale falling from his lips – and his typically steady hands are
practically quaking.
He bites his lip, and in a moment of steely resolve, slowly slips both index
fingers under the elastic waistband. Tadashi’s waist is hot against his
fingers, one palm almost brushing against his goal. As Tadashi exhales – lost
in his own dreams – Hiro pulls slowly downward. He doesn’t blink, can’t blink,
as the pale waistband retreats.
Hiro’s mouth isn’t dry, anymore. He gulps – too loudly – and looks. Like a
camera burning an image to memory, he leans in close. Half-hard from sleep,
Tadashi’s cock lies before him. Holding the shorts down with one hand, Hiro
gently slides the other one up, wrapping his thumb and index finger around its
base. His pinky rests gently between Tadashi’s thigh and balls. Just once, he
slides his hand up, savoring the sensation of the impossibly hot flesh in his
grip. A thousand porn clips and downloaded images swim through his head.
Countless ignored fantasies flash in front of his eyes. He is leaning closer.
He swears his face feels warmer as his lips part. Closer still as his tongue
pulls back, his mouth hovering microns above the head of Tadashi’s cock.
In a moment it’s over. With a quiet moan Tadashi rolls to the side, Hiro
pulling back just in time to avoid falling over onto the bed. As he pulls his
hands back, the elastic of the shorts snaps back, pulling Tadashi out of sleep.
If he notices his brother darting backward, he doesn’t react, instead pulling
the sheet back over himself and beginning to snore almost immediately.
Hiro retreats swiftly to his bed, pulling the curtains around it as quietly and
quickly as he can. He unbuttons the cargo pants and tugs them firmly downward,
a task made more difficult as the thick fabric has yet to fully dry. With his
pants around his knees, the pressure on his hard-on subsides only slightly.
Hiro sends one hand down to investigate, and pulls back fingers slick with
precum. Any shame or confusion the pubescent boy may feel is pushed to the back
of mind, primal lust taking full control of his thoughts. He pulls his briefs
down, impatiently kicking his legs until both pants and underwear fly free as
one. He licks his palm, as he’s done dozens of times before, and wraps his hand
around his dick. The sensation, after so many hours of tension, is greater than
he can remember feeling.
His other hand explores deeper, mimicking a trick he had seen online, but never
ventured before. As his middle finger presses experimentally against his
asshole, he suddenly orgasms, cum erupting through his fingers after only a few
hurried strokes.
Hiro collapses into his pillow, breath ragged, eyes heavy. Fifteen minutes
later, he is masturbating again, one finger pressed up to the first knuckle in
his ass, the other hand stroking rapidly around his cock’s head.
One dirty towel later, and Hiro is asleep, his pleasured body covered only by a
bed sheet, his mind empty of worry or dreams. Had he been awake any longer, he
may have had time to think about how uncomfortable breakfast would be.
***** Under Duress *****
Chapter Summary
     A moment of weakness - and poor judgment - give the brothers a
     moment's pause. The Hamadas reflect on recent events, opening the
     door for something beyond brotherly love.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the super long wait, those of you that have been waiting.
     The world is exploding around me, and taking time for fanfiction has
     been a luxury I've avoided until now. Things will move a bit more
     quickly now, and after this chapter of character development, we can
     really focus on what we're all really here for.
     Here's your up-front warning: Hiro gets the shit kicked out of him in
     this chapter. If that's something you'd rather not read about in
     great detail, do a CTRL-F for "***" as soon as Hiro gets to the bot
     fight.
     I promise, things will get more hot and heavy in the next chapter,
     and it's coming sooner than you think. As always, I appreciate your
     feedback (both kind and not-so-kind). Follow me on Tumblr for updates
     on fic progress, and other upcoming projects:
     mistercottontail.tumblr.com
Hiro’s face is illuminated by the harsh white light of his computer monitor,
his back to the rest of the world. Pages of the net scroll across his eyes, but
he may as well be blind for how little he pays attention to it. By the time the
next page loads, he’s forgotten what was on the last. He chews absent-mindedly
on the drawstring of his hoodie as the hours pass by. The heat outside is
oppressive, and the day is muggy – Cass isn’t surprised the boy has been inside
all day, though that hasn’t stopped her from occasionally poking her head
upstairs to encourage more activity.
It’s late afternoon when Hiro feels warm hands clamp on his shoulders.
“You’ve been out of high school for three weeks and you’re still spending all
of your time on the computer?” Hiro starts as if he’s been caught at something.
He’s been avoiding Tadashi for days; sequestering himself in bed or in front of
the PC. “Come on, you still haven’t been to the lab. I’ve been working on
something I think you’d…”
“You want me to spend the summer hanging out in your lab?” Hiro wriggles under
his brother’s grip, three hours of bot fight videos inspiring a moment of
confidence in him. “You really are a nerd, you know that?”
“Guilty as charged, bro.” Tadashi leans heavily onto Hiro, his chin resting on
Hiro’s head while the chair beneath them squeaks in protest. “Come on, you’re
driving Aunt Cass crazy. If you won’t come to SFIT, let’s at least walk down to
the store and get some snacks or something. Maybe catch a movie?”
Hiro is looking for a way out, but nothing is coming to mind. Maybe it’s time
to just go back to normal. “All right,” he sighs dramatically. “If you’re that
desperate for company. I don’t want anyone knowing how pathetically lonely my
only brother is.”
Forty-five minutes later, Hiro has almost completely forgotten why he’s been so
uncomfortable. His earlier experiment feels like a dream – not a memory – and
the thought of doing something like that again is so far from his mind the he
finds it almost funny how nervous he’s been. Despite the heat, they are walking
at a brisk pace. There’s enough of a breeze coming off the bay to keep them
comfortable. Tadashi jokes and smiles as they walk, a heavy bag of treats
hanging from one hand. Hiro has already torn open the first of several bags of
gummy bears, popping them three at a time into his mouth.
By the time they are walking in the door of the Lucky Cat Café, Aunt Cass is
already setting out candles and clearing the stage for the night’s live music
act. A brief conversation and a warning about ruining dinner are the only
barriers between the boys and the cool air of the second floor living room.
Hiro kicks off his shoes and socks, and flops onto the hardwood floor in front
of the TV, bag of candy within reach. He stretches aggressively, and sighs
contentedly. The cool floor feels rejuvenating against his stomach.
“Since I was gracious enough to save your social life, I think I get to pick
the movie,” Hiro coos, with all of the snark he can muster.
“That depends on what you pick.” Tadashi squats down near Hiro’s face, holding
the remote control just out of reach. He steals a handful of bears from the
open bag on the floor as he drops the remote into Hiro’s swiping hands. “I’m
going to go change. A friend from school said there’s a great new kaiju flick
on-demand, if you’re into that.” Hiro is not into that.
The opening credits of ‘I Robot <3’ are over when Tadashi slips back down the
stairs in clean pajamas. He sits down beside Hiro and reclines back on his
elbows. “This one, again?”
“It’s a good movie,” Hiro whines. “And you’ve never sat through the whole
thing.”
“What does the second part of that sentence tell you about the first part?”
Three robot battles and two bags of candy later, and even Hiro isn’t paying
attention to the movie, anymore. His returned confidence, and his sugar high,
have made him too hyper to sit still. Tadashi has spent the better part of the
movie doodling what looks like a pile of pillows on the back of a takeout menu.
“I think I’m going to head out for a bit, try to get some air,” Hiro offers,
hoping Tadashi doesn’t realize how late it has gotten.
“Aunt Cass is going to be pissed if you miss dinner, again,” Tadashi warns,
engrossed in his sketching.
“Just admit it, bro, you can’t bear to be alone.”
Tadashi sets his pen down. “Be careful, Hiro.”
The sarcastic grin falls from the 13-year-old’s face. He hopes he doesn’t look
too surprised.
“Y…yeah. I’ll be back before dinner,” he stammers out, standing unsteadily and
starting up the stairs. He pulls a light jacket on over his sweatshirt and
double checks the address listed on the webpage he was browsing before
Tadashi’s interruption that afternoon. He reaches for Megabot – his latest
prototype fighter – but reconsiders. Tonight, he thinks, is just for watching.
Tadashi is gone when he comes back downstairs – probably working in the shop in
the garage – and Hiro waits patiently on the stairs until Aunt Cass is occupied
with a customer before slipping out the door and into the dim evening.
His timing is great; a trolley car is pulling up the stop across the street as
his shoes hit the sidewalk. He crosses quickly, boards the tram, and is whisked
north. The streetlights grow further apart as he travels, until the street is
lit almost entirely by the light coming from the slow-moving trolley. Finally,
after a much longer than anticipated ride, Hiro steps off the train in the
northernmost neighborhood of the bay area. The sky here is dominated with the
tall cranes of nearby shipping docks. Their black geometric shadows snake
across the street like a hopscotch field, constantly changing shape in the
shifting hazy spotlights of the ships that float restlessly on the bay.
Over the sounds of distant traffic, Hiro hears the muffled cheers of a large
crowd. He pivots his head, ears pricked, until he picks out a questionably-
maintained building on his side of the street. There is no number over the
door, and the street isn’t marked, besides, but he is sure this is the right
place. Trying desperately to look taller, he marches toward the front door –
which is locked, naturally. It takes three more tries before Hiro tugs a heavy
back alley door open, and steps into the bot fight.
The first thing he senses is an impenetrable wall of sound and body heat. There
must be a hundred people crammed into the tiny interior space. It’s all
shoulders pressed into backs, and dozens of anonymous screaming faces.
Sleeveless arms jut into the air clutching wads of bills. Bulky enforcers stalk
through the crowd, wading through the crowd as easily as if walking through
shallow water, gathering money and staring down the rowdiest guests. From
somewhere in the center of the mob comes the sound of metal grating on metal,
and the ozone stench of burning electronics hangs heavy in the air.
The teens and hobbyists of Hiro’s web forums aren’t here. There are no amateur
builders to be seen. No hipsters with vintage bots. No cute nerdy boys - or
girls, he quickly corrects himself – attacking their defeated bots with tiny
screwdrivers. Hiro was afraid. He had made a mistake. This was the real deal,
and he was in way over his head.
Hiro spins on the spot to leave, but his initial confidence have carried him
too far. He’s closer to the crowd than the door, now, and one of the enforcers
is planted firmly between the boy and his destination. With a subtle nod in
either direction, the enforcer is joined by two others; a skinny but tall brute
with a thick brow, and a sickly-looking guy no older than Tadashi.
“This is an invitation only event, kid,” the first enforcer’s voice is a rough
stony growl, but it carries over the ceaseless din of the crowd. “And, uh, you
forgot to pay the cover charge, in any case.” The enforcer’s smile makes Hiro’s
stomach turn. It’s the expression that says, ‘I’ve already won.’
“How much?” Hiro knows he’s lost. His only option now is to play the game.
“I think we’re, uh, past that, now.”
Skinny and Sickly are laughing. Hiro’s heart is racing, his mouth is dry, and
he can taste bile in the back of his throat. How the fuck did this go so wrong
so quickly? Skinny is on him first, his bony fingers in a vice grip on Hiro’s
collar. The enforcer steps aside, allowing Sickly to push the door open, and
Hiro is dragged outside. His heels bounce off of the concrete floor as he tries
to get traction, but Skinny is much stronger than he looks.
Skinny pulls Hiro downward, throwing him to the pavement. Just as he lands,
Skinny’s boot drives into his ribs, knocking him breathless. Sickly is there in
seconds, kneeling over him, pummeling his shoulders, arms, and head with one
punch after another. Hiro gasps desperately, breathing in the stinking hot
breath of the pale and angry youth. Skinny slams another kick into Hiro’s
stomach, and another immediately into his chest. It’s impossible to block
everything, and as he drops his arms to guard his stomach, Sickly hammers his
fist against the side of Hiro’s face. He can’t feel the pain, yet, but his
vision is suddenly filled with a red warmth. Sickly grabs Hiro’s arms, and
hauls him onto his knees, opening him up for Skinny to piston a final punch
directly over Hiro’s waistband. Sickly drops him, letting Hiro collapse blindly
to the ground. He coughs and retches, clawing at the pavement for escape.
“Run along home, kid,” the enforcer growls from the doorway. “And bring your,
uh, cash next time.”
***
The garage door lifts up slowly, an inch at a time, and Hiro has to stop and
rest when it’s barely a foot off the ground. His right eye is swollen almost
completely shut, and his face is sticky with drying blood. He can still taste
vomit in his mouth, and he’s pretty sure he pissed himself during that last
punch. It wasn’t the first time he had been beaten up, but it was the first
time it wasn’t by eighth graders.
“’Dashi?” He croaked out. I sound really bad, he thought, as a ragged wheeze
falls from his lips. Two hands appear under the door, and it is suddenly
wrenched upward. “’Dashi, I…” the world gets fuzzy around the edges, and Hiro
feels lighter. Then he’s falling.
Tadashi carries him quickly over to a workbench in the back of the shop.
Holding Hiro to his chest with one arm, he sends a collection of empty cans
clattering to the floor. He gently lays Hiro on the table, and rushes back to
slam the garage door shut again. Tadashi pulls his shirt off over his head,
wadding it up under Hiro’s neck as a makeshift pillow.
“’Dashi…”
“Don’t talk,” Tadashi places his hands gently on either side of Hiro’s face,
holding him still. “Did they hit you anywhere but your face?”
Hiro nods once. He points at his chest and stomach with his least-injured arm.
Silently, Tadashi begins to undress him, slowly peeling the light jacket off of
his torso, and lifting his sweatshirt and t-shirt upward. Tadashi rests his
fingers on Hiro’s ribs, running them slowly over each bone.
“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Hiro offers, but the throbbing in his
shoulders and face are already beginning.
“No,” Tadashi sighs, “You’re going to be bruised as Hell tomorrow, but it isn’t
as bad as it looks.” Tadashi drags a nearby stool over and sits down. He places
on hand on Hiro’s stomach, his thumb just over the boy’s navel. Despite the
pain, Hiro breaks out in goose bumps at the touch of affection.
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m furious, but I’ll save it for later. I’m going to go grab some clean
clothes and try to convince Aunt Cass that you’re just out here helping me out.
Do you need help?”
“No, I can manage,” Hiro keeps his voice steady, trying to sound healthier.
“OK. I’ll be right back,” Tadashi turns to leave, heading to the side door
closest to the house.
“Tadashi,” Hiro blurts out. “Uh, thanks. Thanks for this.”
“Love you, bro,” Tadashi smirks, stepping out of the garage.
“Love you…too.” It’s almost a whisper.
From outside, “I’m still pissed, though.”
Alone except for the soft buzz of electronics, Hiro slowly pulls himself up
until he is sitting on the workbench, and then delicately slides off onto the
floor. He uses the bench to hold himself steady as he kicks off his shoes and
pulls his belt loose. His shorts are too big for him, and they fall from his
hipbones easily. He peels his briefs off and stalks over to the worn red couch
in the corner of the shop. He collapses into the plush sofa, exhausted. The
belt had been digging into the tender wounded flesh of his lower stomach, and
he revels now in the relative comfort of his nudity.
His thoughts wander as the adrenaline continues to wear off. After a
surprisingly short period of self-loathing, they turn to Tadashi. Hiro’s not
been in a relationship. Tadashi saying “I love you” is the closest he’s gotten
to that feeling, regardless of what he means in those words. Tadashi has been
there when no one else was. Maybe it was just curiosity. Maybe just an
inexperienced crush. The only thing Hiro was sure about was that he had
feelings for his brother that went beyond fraternal love. If he was older, more
mature, he’d be able to ignore it, but Hiro is young enough that the oddity of
his emotions were lost to him.
The soul-searching, liberating though it may be, was enough to take Hiro into
sleep. When Tadashi finally returned, his little brother was passed out, naked
to the world. Aunt Cass had believed him, or at least was willing to not press
the issue, so Tadashi decides to leave him. He grabs a forgotten blanket from
Hiro’s usual workstation, and leaves the clean clothes folded on Hiro’s chair.
Hiro is wadded up in the corner of the sofa, so Tadashi gently stretches him
out to prevent as much muscle pain as possible. He checks his brother’s body
again, gently testing each rib, and the swelling on his face, careful not to
wake him. His touch is informed by recent medical study – fresh from his school
project – but he is far from an expert and must trust in Hiro’s youth to repair
quickly.
He realizes that his hands are lingering too long on the soft skin of Hiro’s
hips, and quickly stands to cover the boy in the fluffy wool blanket. Still,
his eyes linger on the slow rise and fall of Hiro’s smooth chest, and the
boyish way his young cock sits against his thigh.
“You’ve been in that lab too damned long, Tadashi Hamada,” he mutters to
himself, before dropping the blanket over Hiro, tucking it gently around his
slender shoulders. He leans in to kiss the boy on the forehead, considers, and
instead presses his lips gently against Hiro’s. “Love you, Hiro.”
Hiro murmurs in his sleep, and the night passes.
***** Untouched *****
Chapter Summary
     When the annual Obon Festival comes to San Fransokyo, the Hamadas
     spend a day on the town. Hiro takes the opportunity to push the
     boundaries of his relationship with Tadashi, and finds that his crush
     is definitely not a one-way affair. Fireworks fly, and the brothers
     break significant taboos.
Hiro Hamada lays on his back on the terrace jutting out of the third floor of
the Lucky Cat Café. His shirt is wadded up under his neck as a makeshift
pillow. The sun’s heat warms his stomach and chest, intoxicating him with an
unbeatable laziness. Three stories down, the streets are crowded with the
bustle of ten thousand people shuffling between dozens of stalls, booths, and
food trucks. It’s Obon, the last summer festival in San Fransokyo. To Hiro,
falling in and out of sleep in the morning sun, the din of the crowd is more
annoyance than enticement.
The sliding glass door squeaks open.
“A bit early for a nap, bro,” Tadashi leans in the open doorway, a cup of tea
in hand. “Didn’t you just wake up?”
“So judgmental for someone skipping class,” Hiro retorts. Suddenly embarrassed,
he grabs the crumpled shirt off of the deck and clutches it awkwardly to his
chest. Why am I still so nervous? A week has passed since the bot fight, and
though the physical wounds had healed, Hiro couldn’t help but feel like
something had changed between them. Tadashi had been acting standoffish ever
since. Hiro wondered if something slipped while he was out of it.
“No class today. Professor Callaghan’s…. Well, he has family to honor today.”
“And you’re dressed like that because you’re a huge nerd going to school to
study alone in the library, right?”
“Actually, I thought I’d go check out the festival this year.”
“Walking around Obon Matsuri alone? That’s almost more pathetic.”
“I was hoping you’d go with me.”
Hiro almost chokes. He actually feels the air drop out of him. I shouldn’t be
reacting like this. “Sure bro, but if it’s a date, you’re paying.” He tries to
give a sarcastic smile. Why does my voice sound like that? Do I always sound
like that?
“Well,” Tadashi laughs, “Then I guess it’s a date.”
OK, Hiro thinks, staring silently at the doorway. I think I’m getting used to
this gay thing. His mouth is hanging open a bit, and he hasn’t blinked in a
while. But Tadashi…
“Hiro? You with me, buddy?”
“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“OK, but don’t take too long. Aunt Cass’ll put me to work if she sees me
waiting.”
Despite Tadashi’s warning, Hiro spends the next fifteen minutes agonizing over
what to wear – or at least using that as an excuse to take the time getting his
mind in order. He attacks himself, mentally, obsessing over and questioning his
own feelings. Is this OK? What would Tadashi think if he knew how I’m feeling?
It’s not until he hears Tadashi calling his name from downstairs that he
finally grabs the first clean jeans and shirt within reach.
Tadashi’s supposed to be the mature one, here. I’ll let him be the one to say
‘stop.’ A small bit of confidence comes back to him. He still isn’t sure how
far he could, or should, go with his older brother, but he hasn’t been able to
get his mind away from the thought for weeks. He slips out of his boxers and
pulls the jeans on over his bare legs, and hops down the steps two at a time
while pulling the long-sleeved T over his head.
“It took you twenty minutes to look like this?” Tadashi jokes, but Hiro feels
his brother’s eyes linger on him. “We’re headed out, Aunt Cass. We’ll be back
to help out after the festival, right Hiro?”
Hiro grunts something similar to approval.
“Come on, bro, the taiko players are starting,” Tadashi says as a farewell. He
moves to guide Hiro out the door, his hand pushing softly but forcefully on
Hiro’s lower back.
“Be safe!” Cass screams across the crowded café, her arms overloaded with dirty
teapots and napkins. “I don’t want to be chasing you down at midnight like last
year – I am not cleaning this place up alone again.”
Hiro notices he’s pressing his back into Tadashi’s palm, and suddenly jolts
forward, planting his sneakers on the sidewalk outside. Too obvious, genius.
From several blocks away, he can hear the pounding taiko drums in the heart of
the festival. They were his favorite as a kid, but age had taken away that
thrill. A small group of young women in white kimono are walking toward the
sound, gossiping and snacking on something.
“Hungry, Hiro?” Tadashi is right behind him, very close. Hiro shrinks away a
little, now sure that he knows something.
“Um, I could eat.”
Even for the antisocial, festivals have a tendency to lighten any mood, and
today is no different. The boys travel from cart to cart, snacking their way up
the street. It feels like the whole city is crowded into their little
neighborhood, and the roads are packed wall-to-wall with people. There are far
more people in traditional white kimono or yukata than usual. Hiro’s hastily-
planned jeans-and-shirt combo begins to feel more out of place the further they
move into the festival.
By noon, the Hamadas are stuffed. They lounge comfortably on a bus stop bench
within a block of the heart of the festival. From here, Hiro can see the group
of women from earlier beginning to practice the bon dance that will help close
out the festival later tonight. Hiro is happy. The awkwardness and
uncomfortable mood of the morning is forgotten behind piles of dumplings and
cookies and cakes and skewered meat. As the drums play on, Hiro plays
absentmindedly with a round paper fan Tadashi had bought him just before they
sat down. Joking or not, Tadashi had certainly been treating the day like a
date. Hiro had not made a single request that went unfulfilled.
“’Dashi,” Hiro began. His back was to his older brother, as he was staring down
the street at the dancers, but he felt Tadashi’s eyes on his neck. “You notice
we’re the only Asians here not wearing yukata?”
“Mrs. Matsuda’s not wearing one,” Tadashi replies. “She’s not wearing much of
anything, really.”
“I’m serious.”
“Hey, fine. You just never seemed to care about that kind of stuff.”
I never had a reason to want to look that cute, before, Hiro thinks to himself.
“With it being Obon, I guess I was thinking of Mom and Dad.”
“Oh.” Tadashi doesn’t respond for a while. “We can go back home and change, if
you want.”
“I was hoping you’d buy me one here.” Hiro is relieved to hear Tadashi laugh.
For a moment, he thought he’d spoiled the mood.
“All right, Hiro. There’s a stand around the corner, I think. Pick one out.
You’ve probably outgrown your old one, anyway. Not that you’ve grown much.”
Tadashi tousles Hiro’s hair until the boy stands up in a huff and marches
around the corner.
Minutes later, Hiro is stepping out of the curtained off ‘dressing room’ in a
large blue tent filled with a dozen racks of clothing. The yukata he chose is a
pale blue, edged in small embroidered blossoms in pink and red. He hadn’t
noticed if it was the boys’ or girls’ rack he’d seen it on, but the fabric was
soft and pleasing against his skin, so he wasn’t sure he cared.
“What do you think?” His head down, he looks up doe-eyed at Tadashi. He hopes
for approval, but braces himself for a joke.
Tadashi recognizes the feminine fabric of the robe immediately, despite the
thin masculine obi – belt – Hiro’s chosen for it. Hiro’s smooth chest peaks out
from the folds of the yukata, and he is standing barefoot, at least culturally
aware enough to avoid pairing the traditional garment with his old sneakers.
“I think it’s perfect.”
***
Hiro’s ears throb with the pounding beat of the taikodrums. With the sun
setting among the skyscrapers of downtown, the bon dancers are the center of
attention. Behind them, festival workers and volunteers are preparing thousands
of paper lanterns to honor the dead. The yukata had bankrupted Tadashi, leaving
them unable to pay for a pair of slippers to accompany it. Hiro hadn’t minded,
and cheerfully spent the afternoon walking barefoot at Tadshi’s side. Ever
since Hiro had ditched the jeans and shirt, he had noticed Tadashi’s touch more
frequently. The fabric was extremely delicate, and each brush of the older
Hamada’s hand left an electric fire on Hiro’s skin. Occasionally, as they
waited in line for the next booth or performance, Tadashi would lay an arm
across his shoulders. If they waited long enough, it would fall slowly, ever
further down his back.
Hiro had grown confident as the day went on, sticking closer to his brother,
and relishing the physical contact. Tadashi, for his part, made no attempt to
put distance between them. Hiro was glued to his hip, was sometimes even the
first to reach his spindly arms out to clamp them around Tadashi’s waist while
begging for another dumpling, or a chance at a new festival game.
They are sitting now, Tadashi on the sidewalk and Hiro on the curb in front of
him. Under the excuse of exhaustion, Hiro leans back against his brother’s
legs. The dance ends to thunderous applause, and the block is plunged into
darkness as the streetlights go black and the surrounding businesses shut off
their lamps and open signs. Hiro’s shoulders tense in the sudden shift, until
he feels a strong reassuring hand on his shoulder. Suddenly he spots the first
of thousands of pinpricks of light across the road. The first of the paper
lanterns are lit, and he watches with no shortage of childish wonder as they
begin to slowly rise into the night sky.
Those first few are soon joined by a dozen more. Then a hundred. All around
them, lanterns ascend into the sky, each one representing the lost loved one of
someone in the crowd. Hiro looks over his shoulder when he hears a soft
rustling behind him, and in the dim light of the lanterns sees Tadashi lighting
two small tea candles in the base of a white and red paper lantern. Tadashi
holds it out to him.
“I know you didn’t know them, Hiro, but Mom and Dad would be proud of you.”
Hiro’s face is illuminated in the candlelight. His eyes glisten as they release
the lantern together. As the light fades upward, Hiro feels Tadashi’s legs
part, and quickly scoots back between them, resting against his chest. After a
moment’s shocked tension, Tadashi bends closer, wrapping his arms tightly
around him. They sit like that for a brief eternity, Hiro feeling every breath
that swells Tadashi’s chest. Despite the chilly breeze off the bay, the base of
Hiro’s spine feels fire hot. He lets his head roll back, and buries his
forehead in the curve of Tadashi’s neck.
“Hiro?” Tadashi pulls away from him, scooting back to put some space between
their bodies.
“I’m sorry, I…” The night presses down on him. “I guess I’m tired.” The hugs
and backrubs of the day are still fresh in his mind. I guess I misunderstood
you, he thinks.
“Hiro, you haven’t been yourself all day. What’s bothering you?” Hiro can hear
the genuine concern in Tadashi’s voice, but there’s something else there, too.
“If I made you feel uncomfortable today…”
Uncomfortable? Hiro is lost. “No, ‘Dashi, I…”
“With the way you’ve been acting toward me the past couple of weeks, I thought
you… Well, I thought you wanted a little more contact.”
Fireworks are exploding in Hiro’s temples. He is so wrapped up in trying to
cover his own advances that the conversation has gotten away from him. More
contact…
“I do!” Hiro shouts too loudly. Then softer, “I do want more.” The crowd moves
around them, uncaring and focused on the lights above. Hiro is facing his
brother now, kneeling between his legs.
“Hiro,” Tadashi’s voice is soft and thick. The taiko are pounding again. People
far away are cheering. “Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you
to- “
Hiro lunges forward, pressing his lips against Tadashi’s mouth. “Don’t make me
be the one to lead this.”
Tadashi shuffles backward and stands. He leans down to help Hiro to his feet,
pulling the boy upward into a tight embrace. Hiro’s knees feel weak, and his
bare toes curl against the sidewalk. Held tight against him, Hiro feels
Tadashi’s racing heartbeat through the rigid form pressed against his stomach.
Tadashi fights through the parting crowd, guiding Hiro by the arm. Self-
absorbed revelers ignore what looks like a young man and his boyish girlfriend.
“Where do you two think you’re going?” Aunt Cass demands ten minutes later just
as the boys are disappearing up the first flight of stairs. “You’re already
late. Can you give me a hand down here? Carlotta left early,” a crumb of pastry
is stuck to her lip as she talks. “Hiro, what are you wearing? What happened to
your clothes?”

“It’s a uh…” Hiro’s eyes dart around the room. His head is foggy. He can’t
think.
“Dumplings happened, Aunt Cass. Spilled pork grease all over his shirt and we
didn’t want to come all the way back, so we improvised.” Tadashi plucks Hiro’s
old outfit from his arms, “I’ll get these into the washer. Why don’t you get
started down here, knucklehead.” Tadashi gently pushes Hiro forward, chancing a
knowing glance and heads up the stairs before Cass can protest.
The next half hour is an agonizing exercise in restraint as Hiro wipes down
tables, quickly sweeps up the most obvious messes, and gathers up candles and
unused napkins. Festival nights are always slow after dinner, but Hiro feels
like it may as well have been a full house. All the while, Cass interrogates
him on the festival – what they saw (“Did you SEE Mrs. Matsuda? She came in for
a coffee and I couldn’t believe it!”), how big the crowd was (“It’s been slow
in here all night.”), and why Hiro picked out such a ‘nice’ yukata, (“I’m happy
to see you embracing a more feminine side, Hiro, and I would love to go
shopping with you if you’re interested in picking out a few more things.”). Her
energetic commentary fills enough of the conversation that the shortness Hiro’s
nervous replies goes unnoticed.
His mind keeps replaying that kiss, such a sudden and brief moment with such a
weight behind it. He still feels like his ears are tingling, and is utterly
convinced that his enjoyment of the memory is plainly visible through the thin
fabric of the robe. Finally, Tadashi saves him.
“Hiro, can you help me out with this? There’s a lot of clothes up here,” the
silky voice calls down the stairs.
Hiro’s eyes dart to Aunt Cass.
“Oh, go ahead,” she sighs. “You’ve both had a full day. I’m just glad you got
out of the house for once. The two of you are like an old married couple, up
there reading with the curtains down all day.”
Hiro is up the stairs before the last words are out of her mouth.
He stands in front of the door to their third floor shared room, his hand on
the knob, his eyes closed. He’s already writing scripts in his head for when
Tadashi starts laughing – the whole day one big joke. This is too perfect – too
unbelievable. It hasn’t even been a month since he first began toying with the
idea of doing these things with another guy. To think that his first time would
be with the first person he’d want to share it with was almost too much. Even
more so, despite his inexperience, Hiro was well aware of the taboo nature of
this blossoming relationship. He couldn’t put it out of his head that, instead
of a joking Tadashi, he’d open the door to a room full of disappointed
acquaintances ready to whisk him off to therapy. He didn’t know which of those
two possibilities was worse.
Instead, he pushes the door open to a nearly empty room. Tadashi is sitting on
the foot of Hiro’s bed, his shirt unbuttoned. Hiro gently closes the door
behind him. He can still faintly hear the clatter of dishes and the faint
chatter between Cass and the only other employee still in the building. The
door shut, he clicks the lock in place and shuffles through the room. His
nerves are in overdrive – he feels the tickle of clean carpet on the bottom of
his feet, and the cold dry air of the central A/C pulsing down the back of his
neck from the vent above. He swallows, hard, and presses forward.
Tadashi slowly stands as Hiro approaches, meeting him a few feet from the bed.
Hiro parts his lips to say something, but I don’t know what to say, but Tadashi
silences him with one finger pressed against his mouth. Without a word, Tadashi
directs Hiro onto the bed. Hiro sits on the edge of the mattress and scoots
backward, leaning back against his pillows. He draws his knees up, and the
yukata slides limply down around his thighs.
Standing at the foot of the bed, Tadashi stares at him, his eyes hungrily
grazing on Hiro’s legs. Embarrassed, Hiro pulls his legs closer,
unintentionally revealing the curved beginnings of his youthful ass. Tadashi
moves around the edge of the bed, and sits down beside his reclining brother.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Tadashi coos. He lifts his hand,
cupping Hiro’s cheek in his palm. “But I don’t want you to regret anything. I
would take this as far as we can, but you’re my brother first, and you need to
know that I will never force anything on you.”
“Tadashi Hamada,” Hiro began. “If you don’t drop this nerd shit and fuck me, I
will never speak to you again.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.”
Tadashi takes one of Hiro’s ankles in each hand, and delicately stretches his
legs out flat. With his legs pulled away, and his yukata bunched up around his
waist, he is effectively naked from the hips down. His arousal is apparent, his
cock standing out from the folds of the Japanese garment. Tadashi pulls on the
thin obi keeping the robe closed, and tugs it firmly out of the way, allowing
the yukata to fall open. He leans in again, drawing closer to Hiro, and kisses
him. Unlike the surprising and rapid kiss they shared at the festival, this one
lingers. The gentle prodding of Tadashi’s tongue parts Hiro’s lips, and they
share a breath, tongues pressing together.
Hiro is kissed again, and twice more, before Tadashi pulls back to nip
delicately at his jawline, biting around his ear and placing a forceful kiss on
the nape of his neck. Hiro wraps one arm around Tadashi’s broad shoulders, and
holds his unruly bangs back with the other hand, unwilling to let his hair
obstruct any of the view.
Hiro shivers when Tadashi finds a nerve, and groans in disappointment when
Tadashi lifts his head away. Tadashi pulls the yukata back, pulling Hiro’s arms
out of it. He places one hand in the small of Hiro’s back, and leans in to lay
kisses down Hiro’s collarbone. He runs his other hand over Hiro’s ribs, his
thumb gliding over pale skin from neck to hip. When Tadashi’s calloused fingers
circle his pert nipples, he gasps in a shocked breath. He is melting into
Tadashi’s arms, knowing that he could never again turn away from attention like
this. Tadashi drops his left arm, so his hand rests across Hiro’s abdomen while
the other remains on his back. His wrist teases the base of Hiro’s cock
whenever Tadashi moves, and the thirteen-year-old responds instinctually,
thrusting upward against the pressure.
Tadashi pulls his arm away. “Don’t rush it,” he whispers, “Make it last.”
“’Dashi, I don’t know if I can,” a heavy breath falls between each word.
“Breathe. Just breathe. Your body is amazing.” Tadashi lays across him, one arm
over his thighs, and leans down. Tadashi’s tongue traces spiraling circles
across Hiro’s flat stomach. Hiro tenses against the gentle touch, his muscles
twitching and his legs shaking under him. His brother’s hand, pressing into his
back, keeps him from moving away. Tadashi’s other hand is swiveling around his
leg, running up the thigh until it moves between flesh and mattress, cupping
Hiro’s ass in his palm. Tadashi kisses his navel, and then suddenly shifts,
sitting up and releasing Hiro in one movement.
Hiro’s eyes pop open – he doesn’t remember closing them. Tadashi crawls fully
onto the bed, lifting Hiro from the pillows long enough to drop down behind
him, sitting against the wall with Hiro between his legs. He pulls Hiro back
into him reassuringly, until the younger boy is sitting back against him, his
head resting on Tadashi’s chest. Hiro spreads his legs apart, placing them on
top of Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s hands are wrapped around his waist, so Hiro, unable
to ignore his own cock any longer, reaches down to grasp it. His fingers come
away glistening with pre-cum. His brother takes his hand and guides it to his
mouth, licking Hiro’s fingers clean. Hiro watches in awe before leaning up to
kiss him again, his mouth moving with a desperate hunger.
Without breaking the kiss, Tadashi’s finds Hiro’s cock, and strokes it slowly,
his other hand planted on Hiro’s inner thigh. Hiro groans, his back arching
away from him. As Tadashi’s fingers slide over his shaft, Hiro gropes for
purchase, clenching his fingers in the loose sheet under them. His hips lunge
up from the bed on their own. Tadashi takes the opportunity to slide his hand
underneath the boy, pressing against his asshole with one finger while the
other hand pumps faster over Hiro’s cock.
Hiro gasps. He releases the sheet with one hand, instead grabbing at Tadashi’s
leg. Tadashi shifts again, holding Hiro’s balls in his palm, further pushing
the intensity of their kiss.
“’Dashi,” Hiro exclaims into Tadashi’s neck, the kiss broken out of a desperate
need of air.
Tadashi slows his strokes, and holds Hiro against him as the orgasm seizes his
body. Hiro shudders against his brother’s body, biting into the side of his own
hand to muffle the noise. Finally, Hiro collapses into him. His body spasms as
Tadashi’s fingers continue to slide around his cock, drawing out the intense
pleasure until Hiro is pushing his hands away, begging for a moment’s respite.
Tadashi delicately extracts himself from underneath his brother, stepping off
of the bed to allow Hiro to collapse into the pillows with a heavy sigh.
Standing beside the bed, Tadashi shrugs out of the unbuttoned shirt that’s been
hanging off of his shoulders, and pulls his belt from his khakis. Hiro sits up,
his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, and slides his fingers into Tadashi’s
waistband. He deftly pops the button fly open, and tugs the pants downward. The
fabric is strained around Tadashi’s hardness. Hiro reaches in and grabs the
obstacle, pulling Tadashi’s cock out. Up close, even Tadashi’s above average
length is intimidating. Hiro stretches up, placing his hands on Tadashi’s
shoulders, letting them fall down the youth’s tight body. He draws his fingers
through the subtle crevasses of Tadashi’s abs, over the sharp ridge of his
hipbones, and around his waist to the perky ass. His hands moved with the
muscle memory of someone who had lived through this fantasy a dozen times. This
was the body Hiro saw above him when he closed his eyes at night. He looked up
in the smiling and needy face of his brother and knew that this was right.
Hiro rolls onto his back, tugging on Tadashi’s hand to pull him closer.
“I need you, ‘Dashi,” Hiro can’t tell if he’s speaking out loud anymore.
Tadashi steps out of his pants, and crawls onto the bed on all fours. Hiro
shifts closer to the center of the mattress, pulling a stack of pillows over
under his head. He feels dwarfed as Tadashi crawls over him, and suddenly
Tadashi is all he can see. Hiro’s legs part, allowing his brother to position
himself between them. With one strong arm, Tadashi lifts Hiro’s waist from the
bed. He leans far over, sliding open a drawer in the nightstand nearby. He
pulls a half-empty bottle of lube from the drawer unceremoniously.
“How did you…” Hiro protests.
“You’re not as quiet as you think you are, beautiful.”
Hiro’s eye widen, suddenly embarrassed. Tadashi alleviates the mood change by
falling on to him, kissing him deeply. With their bodies pressed together, Hiro
feels Tadashi’s length against his stomach, his own cock rubbing against it if
he twists his hips against his brother’s. Without breaking the kiss, Tadashi
reaches between them with one hand, and finds Hiro’s entrance with a lubed
finger. Hiro moans as Tadashi’s fingers enter him. He bites into Tadashi’s neck
in reflex, relaxing into heavy gasps as Tadashi slowly moves his fingers in and
out of him.
Hiro does his best to reciprocate the sensations he’s feeling, but pinned
beneath Tadashi, there’s not much he can do. He frees both of his arms and
holds Tadashi’s face to his own, violently returning his embrace.
Then, Tadashi’s fingers are gone. Hiro feels empty for a moment, until, with an
imperceptible movement, Tadashi has lowered himself to place the head of his
cock against Hiro’s ass. He rises away from Hiro’s kiss, and their eyes lock as
Tadashi slides just into him. Hiro is biting firmly onto his bottom lip, his
jaw visibly trembling. His ears and cheeks are flushed red, and thin rivulets
of sweat are running down his flat torso. Tadashi rises until he is kneeling
completely upright, drawing Hiro’s hips upward with him. From here, he can see
all of Hiro before him.
Hiro gyrates his hips experimentally, smirking at the shocked gasp that escapes
Tadashi’s lips. Virgin or not, Well, not, now, I suppose, Hiro’s experimental
nature was never devoted solely to robotics. Tadashi interprets the movement as
consent and tightens his grip on the boy’s waist. He shuffles his knees closer,
allowing Hiro to wrap his legs around him, and thrusts slowly forward. Hiro’s
eyes clench shut, his eyebrows twitching. His mouth hangs open as Tadashi’s
length retreats for the first time. Then Tadashi is pushing into him again.
The older Hamada is desperately seeking some restraint. Hiro’s lithe form
twists and pulses under him, the boy’s legs constricting ever tighter around
his waist with lust. After three hesitant thrusts into Hiro, carnal instinct
wins out, and Tadashi increases pace. Hiro’s ass clenches around him, making
each thrust a new level of intensity unlike anything he has known before.
Hiro plants one hand against the headboard for leverage, and grabs his younger
cock with the other. He watches Tadashi’s body as he strokes, seeing every
muscle tense in ‘Dashi’s stomach with each thrust.
Tadashi, seeing Hiro’s actions, moves faster still. He is grunting with each
thrust now, slowing only when Hiro’s breath stops when orgasm takes him again.
Hiro’s body falls limp, his hand squeezing his spasming cock as cum falls onto
his chest and stomach. Tadashi’s own girth is trapped in the vice grip of
Hiro’s ass. The boy’s desperate whines bring him to the edge, and with one last
forceful thrust, he is cumming into Hiro.
They revel in the experience for a moment, neither boy willing to be the first
to move. Eventually, Tadashi pulls free of Hiro’s grip, and collapses beside
him on the bed. Hiro rolls into the crook of his arm and lays his head onto
Tadashi’s chest.
“Love ya, bro,” Hiro sighs.
“Nnn,” Tadashi returns, still catching his breath. “Love you too, Hiro.”
When Hiro awakens that morning, he is alone. For a panicked moment, he’s
convinced it was all a dream. On the nightstand beside him is a neatly folded
pale blue yukata. As he sits up, naked and coated in dry sweat, a marked
soreness reveals the reality of the previous night. He drowsily pads into the
bathroom, turns the shower knob well into the ‘Hot,’ and smiles at his
reflection in the sink mirror. As long as I have him, Hiro muses, I don’t know
how I could ever be unhappy again.
***** An Interlude. *****
The author taps the mic.
"Is this thing on?"
***** Release Me *****
Chapter Summary
     The morning after their first time together, emotions are high and
     conversations are awkward. Hiro's first summer out of high school is
     coming to an end, but his explorations of his brother's body have
     just begun.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the hiatus, faithful readers. A few too-personal threats
     from some very hateful folks threw a bit of a wrench in the works,
     but I think we're back in business. Chapters from here on out are
     going to be a bit shorter, but more frequent. We're rapidly
     approaching the end of Hiro's last summer before the SFIT Showcase,
     and that "Big Hero 6" title screen is coming up soon. I'm humbled
     that so many of you have expressed your enjoyment of this series, and
     your frustration at my sudden disappearance. So with that out of the
     way, please join me as we keep diving into the trash pile to see how
     far this brotherly relationship can blossom before the credits roll.
“Ouch!” Tadashi shouts, stepping back from the stove. He jams his thumb into
his mouth, though the burn does not subside.
“Why don’t you let me help you?” Aunt Cass asks from her seat at the small
dining table behind him. “You may be smart and handsome, but that doesn’t mean
you know how to scramble eggs.”
“I’m making an omelet,” he corrects her around the injured digit. “And I have
to learn some time.”
“Just focus on making a lot of money. Then the girls won’t care if you can’t
cook.”
“Ha Ha, Aunt Cass.”
Cass leans away from the table to grab a large orange off of the counter. She
absently picks the rough skin off of the fruit with her nails while reading
through yesterday’s newspaper, unfolded on the table.
“Where’s your brother? It’s almost one, he should be dragging himself out of
bed by now.”
“Sounds like he’s still in the shower,” Tadashi responds, before reaching over
to nudge the hot water onto ‘high’ in the kitchen sink. “That’ll get him out of
there.”
Fifteen minutes, and two burned omelets, later, Hiro’s footsteps creak down the
staircase and into the kitchen. Tadashi turns, smoking pan in hand, trying to
maintain a bit of integrity. Hiro is still yawning – it felt like he was asleep
for months - but he smiles devilishly when he catches Tadashi’s eye. He’s
wearing a too-big brown sweater which hangs from his narrow shoulders like a
tent, its lower hem hanging somewhere above mid-thigh. As far as Tadashi can
tell, he’s wearing briefs, or nothing, beneath the oversized garment.
“I think that’s my sweater,” Tadashi starts, wondering if the stutter in his
voice is noticeable.
“Oh, is it?” Hiro smirks. “I just grabbed something out of the hamper.” Hiro
drags a chair away from the table and flops into it, letting his legs spread
slightly more than necessary.
Briefs it is, Tadashi thinks to himself before turning back to the stove to
hide the rose tint of his cheeks. He tosses the eggs around a few times in the
pan before shaking the first omelet out onto a plate, which he sets in front of
Hiro. He repeats the process, placing an omelet in front of Cass, and one at
the empty chair across from his brother. He pokes at his food while the family
makes small talk. Bored of the conversation, Hiro slumps in his chair, reaching
out one foot and resting it on the edge of Tadashi’s seat, directly between his
legs.
Oblivious, Cass continues to read aloud from the newspaper, picking out amusing
articles as Hiro massages Tadashi’s cock with his toes. Tadashi glances over at
his brother, flashing a dark glare, but Hiro is just smiling, his eyebrows
cocked in a flirty curve.
Cass suddenly stands and drops a hand onto Tadashi’s shoulder. “You did your
best,” she laughs, “but you’ve got a long way to go.” She lifts her mostly
uneaten omelet from the table, dropping the plate into the sink. With her back
turned, Hiro is emboldened. He stands, lifting the sweater enough to reveal his
youthful exuberance – a not-too-small bulge in the front of the clingy briefs.
Tadashi blushes heavily, mouthing silent threats across the table until Hiro
drops into his seat again, seconds before Cass turns to head downstairs. She
plants a kiss on the top of Hiro’s head, her face momentarily hidden among the
bushy untamed mane of bed hair.
“Not much summer left, little man. You’d better start thinking about what
you’re doing when school starts up.”
“So much for my good mood,” Hiro sarcastically quips.
“There’s always waiting tables,” offers Tadashi, “We could get you a cute
little black skirt like the other servers wear.”
“I bet you’d love that, bro.” The two brothers stare at each other in a moment
of awkwardness, wondering if they’d gone too far. But Cass is already halfway
down the stairs, her mind occupied with the dozen tasks of the day.
“For all the fun you had, last night,” Hiro begins, “You seem a little tense,
bro.”
“You should talk,” Tadashi leans back in his chair, dropping his own unfinished
plate into the sink. “You know they say it’s tradition to make an omelet if
it’s your date’s first time.” Tadashi laughs when Hiro’s face scrunches into a
defiant glare.
“What are you supposed to cook after the second time?” Hiro stands again,
reaching under the sweater to hook his thumbs in the elastic waistband of the
briefs. He tugs them down, slowly sliding the fabric down his thighs before
letting them drop to the floor. He walks around the table, and straddles a
stunned Tadashi. Sitting down on his lap, Hiro wraps his arms around Tadashi’s
shoulders, and holds him in a tight hug. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you for…
for last night.”
“Hiro…”
Hiro’s lips cut him off, and Tadashi is soon parting his mouth to let Hiro’s
tongue probe between his teeth. His brother’s breath is warm and sweet, and
their kiss is only broken when Hiro finally pulls back, panting. His eyes are
still closed, and the tops of his ears glow a bright pink.
Hiro stands, steps back, and kneels awkwardly between Tadashi’s slack legs.
Instinctively, Tadashi scoots his chair back, until it runs into the nearby
counter. Hiro looks up at him with wide eyes.
“I’m serious,” he says, struggling to maintain eye contact. “I want to do
something just for you.” He reaches up and grabs Tadashi’s zipper between thumb
and forefinger, hesitates, and drops his hand. “Only I’ve never really done
this before.”
Tadashi leans down, cupping Hiro’s face in his palm. “You’ll do just fine.”
Tadashi unzips his own fly, pops the button on his jeans, and hops in the chair
a bit to pull them slightly down. His cock springs free from the denim folds,
standing directly out in Hiro’s vision. The youth’s eyes widen in shock, and he
licks his lips nervously. He wraps one hand around the base of the shaft,
dozens of online videos rushing through his memory.
“You showered after you were in me, right?” Hiro suddenly asks, almost smiling.
“Don’t ruin the mood, bro.”
“Sorry, I was just… Nervous, I guess?”
Tadashi runs his fingers through Hiro’s hair. “Your face is so cute when you
blush like that.”
Hiro squints at him and then shuffles closer. “Don’t be weird, nerd.” Hiro’s
tongue reaches out to meet the head of Tadashi’s cock, directing his lips
around its girth before dropping in toward him. With only the first few inches
passing through his lips, Hiro inhales and pulls back, dragging his tongue
along the sensitive underside of his brother’s cock. He begins to move his hand
in unison, sliding his fingers upward as his face pulls back, squeezing and
pumping down as he moves in. His knees are already hurting, but he ignores it.
He holds his own erection in his free hand – slowly rubbing his thumb over its
head as he pleasures Tadashi. A few minutes pass, and Hiro notices Tadashi’s
breathing getting louder. The older Hamada occasionally groans slightly as he
exhales. Hiro’s nervousness fades, and he takes deeper and deeper dives,
letting Tadashi’s cock press into the back of his throat, squeezing past his
tonsils.
When he needs to catch his breath, Hiro lets Tadahi’s cock pop free of his
mouth, and wraps his tongue around it, licking the sweet mix of saliva and
precum from the shaft. He is honestly surprised to be enjoying it. Abandoning
his own aching arousal, Hiro grabs Tadashi’s shaft with both hands, lavishing
it with kisses and heavy licks. Hiro sees Tadashi’s abs tighten when he cups
his balls in one hand, before plunging his mouth back over his cock.
Tadashi watches in awe, gripping the chair’s seat with both hands. When Hiro
bends certain ways, he can spot the boy’s cock standing firmly out from beneath
the sweater’s hem. He reaches out, driving the fingers of one hand through
Hiro’s hair, holding his bangs back so he can watch his shaft disappear into
Hiro’s pouty mouth. The boy’s lips are bright red from friction, and his cheeks
are a matching color.
“That's perfect, Hiro,” Tadashi moans. “Keep it up, I'm almost there.” Hiro
responds with vigor, holding back choking coughs as the end of his brother's
cock slips deeper into his throat. Seconds later, it's over, and Hiro is
kneeling on the floor, eyes closed, as Tadashi's cum falls onto his round
cheeks.
Tadashi stretches and lets himself fall, sliding down the counter, legs
splayed, until he is sitting uncomfortably on the aged wooden floorboards,
looking up at Hiro. He wipes the boy's face clean with a dishtowel, impressed
but almost frightened by the teen's sexual appetite. He tried to think back to
his first time, unable to recall if had a similar hunger then.
“Go get cleaned up, I need a break.”
“You're an old man, bro. Can't get it up again?” Hiro teases, before rocking
spryly onto his feet to head upstairs. He pauses and turns his head slightly,
as if thinking of something else to say, before rushing up to the third floor,
two steps at a time. Tadashi tugs his khakis up, pulling them closed and
composing himself. He flicks the faucet back on, and absently scrubs a few more
plates, his mind a thousand miles away.
***** Eros and Apollo *****
Chapter Summary
     The end of the last summer. The start of something new. Even now, as
     the sun sets the night before the SFIT showcase, the Hamadas find
     only peace. Though there is little time left, perhaps two brothers
     can still find comfort in each others' arms, one last time.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
August 4
 
Hiro Hamada rolls out from under his sheets, eyelids heavy and cheeks crusted
with drool. Sitting on the edge of his twin mattress, he absently pulls his
bangs back from his forehead and yawns, blinking. He glances to the alarm clock
on his nightstand, its blank face staring back at him, unplugged. He cocks his
head to squint through mostly closed blinds, trying to judge the time of day
from the sun outside. Hiro rubs his bare chest as he stands and stumbles
through the bedroom. Over the past few weeks, he's been wearing less and less
to bed. His pubescent lack of self-esteem fading as his brother showers him in
complements. Despite the staggering heat outside, his computer chair is cold as
he plops into it, the nylon seat tickling the bare thighs his white briefs fail
to protect.
He clicks through a few forums and emails until he hears the bedroom door swing
open. Tadashi jogs into the room, a soft bassline audible from the earbuds
dangling around his neck. Hiro smiles dumbly as Tadashi knocks the door shut
with his hip. The elder Hamada radiates energy, a shirtless Olympian. Tadashi
kicks off his sneakers and strides barefoot through the room, humming the end
of an unfamiliar tune. Hiro watches thin beads of sweat run down his smooth
stomach into the waistband of his San Fransokyo Ninja sweatpants. He grabs
Hiro's chair, spinning the boy around to plant a light kiss on his forehead.
Hiro feigns disgust and spins back.
"Most people shower after a workout," Hiro sighs into his monitor.
Tadashi collapses exaggeratedly onto Hiro's chair, wrapping his arms around the
boy's shoulders, "Who said I'm done working out?"
Hiro rolls his head back, breathing in the aroma of his brother's overheated
body. The forced embrace brought him no small amount of comfort, and he allowed
himself to melt into Tadashi's arms. Tadashi, for his part, couldn't help but
notice as Hiro's cock moved against his underwear's thin fabric. He reached
down, letting his fingertips drag down his little brother's chest, the boy's
hair tickling his own bare skin. He pauses as his thumb rubs cotton and
elastic. Hiro's hips reach up toward his hand.
"Don't stop," Hiro exhales, "It's been too long."
"It's been less than 12 hours."
"That's too long."
 "You're exhausting." Tadashi closes his fingers around Hiro's boyhood, smiling
as it tenses and throbs against his palm, the boy gasping loudly.
 
August 10
 
"What else do you need?"
"I don't know. It's not like I've shopped for college, before." Hiro falls back
against a rack of notebooks, sighing with exasperation. His face darkens
suddenly. "Sometimes I think I'm not cut out for this."
"Hey," Tadashi begins, stepping forward to pull Hiro into a gentle hug, "You've
got this. You've spent most of this month out in the lab. You've got a hundred
thousand of those bots filling up my workspace..."
"16,700 bots..."
"...and I haven't hardly seen you since July." Tadashi smiles into Hiro's face,
"I'm starting to think you don't like me anymore."
"Dashi, I... I really want this."
"Just tell me what you need." Tadashi lowers his head, burying his face in
Hiro's wild hair. "You know I'd do anything for you."
Hiro wriggles out of Tadashi's grasp and slips over to another display of pens,
his cheeks flaring red and his eyes staring hard at the floor. "You don't have
to make it weird."
"Weird?" Tadashi smirks. "Too old for hugs from your big bro?"
"Nerd," Hiro mutters.
 
August 18
 
"It's tomorrow night." Hiro is sprawled out across his mattress like a slowly
dehydrating starfish, his arms dangling off the sides. "It's actually
happening."
Tadashi sits gently on the edge of the bed, placing one hand reassuringly on
Hiro's shoulder. It's late, but the sounds of cleaning are still floating up to
their room from the restaurant downstairs. Outside, the noise of traffic plays
out over the background hum of thousands of cicadas. Their windows are open,
for a change, and a strong breeze carries the scent of nearby orange trees
through the room.
"Are you nervous?" Tadashi asks.
"What kind of question is that?"
"Relax," Tadashi moves his hand to Hiro's thigh. "Let me take your mind off
it."
"I can't, Dashi, I don't have the energy."
"You don't have to do a thing, Hiro. Just relax. You've earned this."
Tadashi leans in and kisses Hiro, his lips against the corner of the boy's
mouth. Again, this time Hiro's head lifts off the pillow as their lips meet,
Hiro's tongue sweet and warm as it meets Tadashi's, the passion erupting
suddenly before Tadashi leans away to let Hiro's head fall listlessly to the
pillow once more. He kisses the boy's neck, then his ribs. He runs his tongue
in tight circles around Hiro's nipples, and bites gingerly at the teen's soft
stomach. The elastic of Hiro's briefs is pulled taut across his jutting hip
bones, letting Tadashi easily slip one hand into the cotton as he tastes Hiro's
sweet skin.
Hiro's modest cock reacts to Tadashi's touch, swelling into his grip and
tensing against his palm. Tadashi holds it gently, unmoving, letting Hiro's
breathing and his subtle hip movements do the work. He is in no hurry.
"Seems like you have plenty of energy, little brother," Tadashi teases.
"Sh- Shut up." Hiro tries to lift himself up, but Tadashi swiftly pushes him
back down.
"I told you, Hiro, just relax."
Tadashi scoots down the bed and tucks both hands into Hiro's waistband, tugging
the briefs deftly off of his slender body. Hiro's cock bounces up and against
his stomach as it slides free of the tight cotton. Tadashi drops the briefs to
the floor and stares down at Hiro's body, watching the goosebumps appear and
vanish on his arms and legs. He leans down, parting his lips, warm breath
falling around Hiro's cock as his tongue wraps around its head. Hiro gasps,
gripping the mattress with clawing fingers. Tadashi pulls Hiro's length into
his mouth, closing his lips around the base, wrapping his tongue around it
before pulling slowly backward.
"Jesus," Hiro sighs, "Fuck."
Tadashi holds Hiro's waist in both hands, releasing the boy from his mouth just
long enough to nip at his hips or to luxuriously draw his tongue up Hiro's
thigh. His little brother's immature body seems to spasm anywhere he is
touched, prompting Tadashi to explore every inch of the him. He rises away and
moves back to Hiro's mouth, sharing a passionate kiss while he pulls Hiro's
cock back into his hand. He strokes the slick erection with three fingers as
his tongue probes into Hiro's wanting lips.
"Are you ready, little bro?"
"I'm close, Dashi." He fumbles blindly for his brother's prick, "Fuck me before
I cum."
"Not tonight, Hiro. This is just for you."
Tadashi slides out of Hiro's reach, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He drags
the boy toward him, lifting Hiro with both arms and dropping Hiro's legs onto
his shoulders. He kisses the underside of Hiro's cock, then his inner thigh,
before drawing his tongue up and around the boy's balls. He pulls Hiro between
his lips, holding him tightly as his body writhes above the mattress. Hiro
thrusts his hands into Tadashi's short hair, tightly holding his head in place
as the head of his cock brushes against the roof of Tadashi's mouth. He
breathes faster, inhaling sharply, his exhales coming out in ragged uneven
gasps.
Feeling Hiro's body tighten, Tadashi shifts the boy's weight into one arm,
freeing his other to cup the curve of Hiro's ass, his thumb pressing against
his brother's asshole. Hiro groans loudly in response, pulling painfully on
Tadashi's hair, unable to do anything else.
"Fuck!" The word shudders out of him, his stomach locking and his breath
seizing. "Dashi- Bro- I- Fuck!"
Hiro erupts into Tadashi's mouth, his body melting into his brother's arms as
the orgasm wracks through him. His grip finally loosens as he collapses,
gasping, onto the bed. Tadashi crawls up onto the mattress next to him, sighing
and pulling the boy close. Hiro snuggles into his brother's embrace, the curve
of his ass pressing against the firm bulge between Tadashi's hips. He twists
his ass suggestively, smiling with satisfaction as Tadashi groans into the back
of his head.
"Tomorrow night," Tadashi begins, "I'm going to use that ass of yours. But
tonight, let's just enjoy this."
Hiro sighs, and lets Tadashi envelop him. He pulls his brother's arms around
his body and snuggles in as closely as the heat allows.
"I love you so much, Hiro."
Hiro is startled by the frank confession.
"I love you too, Dashi," He mumbles.
 
August 21
 
The End.
Chapter End Notes
     Hey guys, I want to apologize for the brevity (and likely lacking
     quality) of this final chapter. To be honest, I felt like I was done
     with this story. I had moved on. This pairing didn't ignite a passion
     in me the way it did a year or so ago.
     Still, many of you have been patiently following the story for many
     months, through tumblr, y-gallery, and how many other sites? I felt
     like I owed you some conclusion.
     Originally, I had planned on at least three more chapters to this
     piece, and had outlined out several other scenarios that would take
     place as their relationship grew and expanded. I did my best to
     incorporate the jist of those ideas into this chapter, removing a bit
     of the fluff (which I'm not great at writing) and a bunch of
     expository dialogue (which I'm HORRIBLE at writing).
     I hope you all continue to carry Hidashi in your hearts, and continue
     to find new stories and new authors that can do these boys justice.
     Meanwhile, I've moved on to other fandoms and other ideas, and will
     be experimenting with some new stuff, right here on AO3, over the
     coming months.
     Thank you for going on this journey with me, and for fighting the
     good fight against the hate all of us faced in this fandom.
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