Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5840734.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Prince_of_Stride:_Alternative_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Kamoda_Kei/Kamoda_Yuu
  Character:
      Kamoda_Kei, Kamoda_Yuu
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Mutual_Masturbation, Mutual_Pining, Accidental_Voyeurism,
      Sexual_Fantasy, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, First
      Time, Rough_Sex, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-04 Completed: 2016-02-10 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 4741
****** Unstated ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Kei's fingers are nearly on the metal when he hears Yuu’s gasp." An
     accident leads to an impulse decision and more of a revelation than
     Kei was ready for.
***** Heard *****
It’s an accident, to start.
Kei isn’t trying to snoop. He wakes up thirsty at a late enough hour that the
world is dark and still on the other side of his closed blinds; all the lights
in the house are off when he eases his door open to pad along the hallway
towards the bathroom for a drink of water. He downs one glass, follows it up
with half another before shutting off the light and returning down the hallway
towards his room as softly as he can go. His room is at the far end, distanced
from the bathroom by the frame of the door to his brother’s room; he’s nearly
on top of Yuu’s door when he realizes it’s cracked open, that there’s an inch
of shadow showing around the edges of the frame. He pauses, considers
continuing down the hall; but their father will turn on the hall light on his
way to shower in the early morning, and Kei knows Yuu was up later than he was
for the sake of fitting in an extra hour of studying. The light will wake him
early, and he won’t be able to get back to sleep, and Kei might be rolling his
eyes in frustration -- can’t Yuu manage to do even this one thing right? -- but
he’s reaching for the handle, too, ready to ease the weight of the door shut
quietly enough to let Yuu keep sleeping.
His fingers are nearly on the metal when he hears Yuu’s gasp.
Kei freezes. It’s not that he’s startled that Yuu is awake, although that’s
part of it; it’s that there’s a strange resonance under that breath, a
thrumming heat that some part of his mind recognizes before he has put a name
to it. It’s embarrassment that locks him in place, that colors his cheeks
suddenly dark with heat, and if there’s a flicker of something else at the very
base of his spine at hearing the sound of his brother jerking off Kei doesn’t
acknowledge it, doesn’t give it the legitimacy of a name even in his own head.
He should go. He should withdraw his hand, should move back down the hallway as
quietly as possible so he can go back to sleep and forget the way Yuu’s voice
sounded on that choked-back moan, so he can forget the way heat is flushing his
cheeks and itching under his skin. He doesn’t. He stays perfectly still,
hearing his own heart hammering panic-loud in his chest, and then there’s
another sound from the other side of the door, a faint whimper of need that
crests so suddenly hot in Kei’s veins that he can’t even pretend he’s not
reacting the way he is. His cock is swelling between his legs, rising against
the front of his pajama pants, and he’s not moving, he’s barely breathing, he’s
frozen in place as he strains to hear the details of Yuu’s movement over the
sound of his own frantic heartbeat. There’s not much to hear: the rustle of
sheets, the creak of the bed, the sometimes-catch of Yuu’s breathing into a
moan. But Kei’s imagination is clinging to every detail, painting a picture
against the inside of his head to turn every rustle into the drag of Yuu’s hand
over himself, to turn every gasp into the tilt of Yuu’s head and the arch of
his throat. Kei can see it clear, more clearly than he expected: the way Yuu’s
shoulders must be tensing, the way his spine must be curved in around the drag
of his hand. His skin must be damp with sweat, his lips parted, his eyes shut
to cast shadows from his lashes against his cheeks; Kei can almost taste the
heat on Yuu’s breathless exhales, can almost see the slick drag of Yuu’s
fingers over the flush of his cock. Kei’s breathing is coming faster, only
keeping to silence by the absolute need for secrecy, but he can’t leave, can’t
make himself move away down the hallway like he should, like he should have at
the first hiss of sound from the other side of the door. He’s fully hard inside
his pajama pants, now, his cock twitching hot with every sound he catches from
Yuu’s throat, but he doesn’t dare move, is too distracted to even think about
the ramifications of the heat in his veins, too distracted to berate himself
sufficiently for the electricity that is sparking fire all through his body.
He’s trapped where he is, too panicked to move and too enthralled to think, and
then Yuu gasps a long, overheated inhale, and when he moans his exhale it’s
with the heat of “Kei” purring clear under it.
Kei thinks for a moment that Yuu is talking to him. The sound of his name hits
him like a bolt, brings his hand jerking back from the handle as immediately as
if Yuu had actually appeared on the other side of the door. But then Yuu
whimpers again, a faint noise muffled against the sheets, and Kei’s heat-
slurred brain trips over itself, and leaps ahead, and lands at precisely the
right conclusion.
“Oh god,” Kei says, except there’s no voice to the words, there’s just the
shape of them hot on his tongue as he takes a step backwards. He’s not careful
about his footfalls, but his heel misses the squeaky floorboard, and whatever
thud the sound of his movement makes is lost to the heat of Yuu’s breathing on
the other side of the door. Kei’s heart is pounding, he’s going lightheaded
from too much heat in his veins; when he drops to the floor it’s unstudied,
more from a need to be closer to the ground than from any deliberate decision.
Yuu is still breathing hard on the other side, still gasping tiny helpless
sounds of pleasure, and Kei’s twisting, pushing himself around until his
shoulders land against the wall, until the weight of the support is holding him
upright against the steam burning under his skin. His mouth is open, his lungs
are desperate for air he can’t seem to get, and there’s no thought at all as he
shoves his pajama pants down off his hips and to his thighs, no conscious
decision as he closes the friction of his hand around the aching heat of his
cock. It’s just reflex, a choice made somewhere in the back of his brain that
comes out unaffected by such considerations as morality and danger, and then
he’s stroking up over himself and the relief is so strong even the knowledge
that he’s jerking off to his brother fantasizing about him isn’t enough to so
much as quiver in his breathing. Kei tips his head back against the wall, lets
his knees fall wide, and then he’s lost, all his attention giving way to the
drag of his palm over his cock and the sounds Yuu is making on the other side
of the barely-open door.
Kei can hear the bed shifting, can hear the almost-pained noises Yuu is making
as he moves. He wonders, frantic with the heat in his blood, if it’s guilt
giving the other’s breathing that edge of pain, if it’s regret making itself
heard in the whimpers spilling from Yuu’s throat. Then there’s another noise, a
half-muffled groan of sound lower than anything Kei’s ever heard from Yuu
before, and a new possibility presents itself, suggests the image of Yuu with a
finger inside him, two, of Yuu pushing himself open while he imagines it’s Kei
shoving him down against the bed. Kei chokes on a breath, his eyes wide and
unfocused on the ceiling as his mind reels out the picture of it, the hunch of
Yuu’s shoulders and the shudder running through his body with each thrust he
takes with his fingers. Kei’s whole body is thrumming with heat, his
imagination running wild on the sounds of Yuu’s gasps, and the madness of
fantasy suggests that he push open the door, that he step forward and shove Yuu
down by the back of his neck and just have him, right now, drop onto the bed
behind him and sink his cock into the grip of Yuu’s body before the other’s had
a chance to realize what’s happening.
Kei can imagine the sound Yuu would make, can hear the startled wail of his
name that would turn into a groan as Kei thrusts deep into him, and his strokes
are speeding, his cock swelling hotter under his own touch at the idea. It
would only take a few thrusts, Kei thinks wildly, he could be coming into Yuu
instead of over his hand, and it’s hard to think why he shouldn’t, hard to come
up with reasons why he has to keep his voice still and his motions quiet. Yuu’s
panting desperate, hiccuping breaths, and then he moans “Kei,” drawing the name
out far past its intended syllables, and Kei can hear his breathing stutter,
can hear the exhales punctuated by involuntary shudders as Yuu comes. Kei’s
chest aches, his entire body flashes into painful heat, and when he arches his
back against the wall and jerks into orgasm it’s with Yuu’s face behind his
shut eyes, with the sound of Yuu’s breathing ringing in his ears. There’s
vibration in his throat, spasms of pleasure jolting up his spine, and for a
long moment Kei doesn’t think about anything but the satisfaction rippling out
to the farthest reaches of his body.
Then he hears Yuu take a breath, the inhale tense on panic instead of slurred
with heat, and when the other says “Kei?” Kei realizes what he’s said, can
taste the echo of his groaned aniki hot at the back of his tongue.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare. There’s no words he can offer in response, no
explanation that will absolve either of them; he has the proof of his own
illicit desire cooling sticky across his fingers, he’s given up any hope he
might have had of denial. For a brief moment Kei thinks Yuu will get out of
bed, imagines him opening the door to see Kei with his pants around his knees
and his cock in his hand. For an insane moment he wishes he would. But then
there’s the rustle of blankets, softer than it was before, deliberately quiet
as if that will somehow undo what Kei’s already heard, and Kei stares unseeing
and unmoving at the ceiling while he listens to the sound of Yuu cleaning
himself up, listens to the creak of the bed as his brother turns over under the
blankets to go back to sleep.
Kei waits for ten minutes, fifteen, almost a half hour before he moves from
outside the door. He tells himself it’s to wait for Yuu to fall asleep, to give
himself the plausible deniability of absolute silence following his own
giveaway moan. But Yuu’s breathing hasn’t slowed into sleep by the time Kei
pulls his pants back up over his chilled skin, and Kei doesn’t try to convince
himself he’s even trying to avoid the creaky floorboard when he walks back down
the hallway to his own room.
Neither of them will be getting much more sleep tonight.
***** Felt *****
Yuu shouldn’t be doing this.
His situation is bad enough in the first place. He’s known that ever since
middle school, when seeing Kei receiving a confession from a classmate twisted
Yuu’s heart into a knot of jealousy so strong it was hard to breathe the whole
way home. It would have been nice to convince himself it was the nameless girl
he wanted, would have been pleasant to lie to himself for at least a few months
longer, but Yuu has always been painfully good at admitting his own flaws, and
when Kei had asked him ‘what’s wrong, aniki?’ on their way back home he had
known the ache of heat in his chest as the possessive desire it was, had known
without needing to consider the question that it was the focus in Kei’s
silvered eyes that he wanted and not the blushing attention of the girl who had
so earnestly begged for his brother’s attention. He had ducked his head, and
mumbled some lie that was enough to convince Kei to stop asking, even if it
wasn’t enough to satisfy the question, and after that he had learned to be more
careful with his expression, to be more secret in his reactions.
It’s bad enough to know that he’s in love with his brother, to know that every
time Kei comes back from a run flushed and sweating from the exertion some part
of Yuu’s mind is going to imagine the salt taste of Kei’s skin at his tongue,
is going to suggest the way Kei’s bare shoulders would shadow Yuu’s body if he
leaned in over him. Yuu tries to keep it to just the knowledge, an absolute
secret so far in the back of his head that even he can forget about it, but if
he keeps it a secret from everyone else he can’t keep it from himself. He
spends dozens of nights lying awake hot and flushed, desperate to find some
kind of relief from the insistent images that fill the night-dark of his
imagination: Kei frowning at him, Kei shoving him down to the bed, Kei pushing
his knees apart with the width of his hips. For months Yuu hardly sleeps, every
night a battle between his fantasies and his self-preservation, until finally
he’s so exhausted and so desperate for sleep that he capitulates to the desire
and tries to jerk off to the thought of one of the popular Stride runners, the
ones in high school with the long legs and the filled-out shoulders and the
dark eyes and light hair so unlike his brother’s. He thinks it’s working, can
feel relief weighting like a sob in the back of his throat as he approaches
satisfaction; and then the image dissolves, light hair goes dark and brown eyes
shift to mirror-grey, and Yuu’s cock jumps in his hand and he spills sticky
across his stomach with Kei’s face in his mind.
It’s a losing battle after that. It’s impossible to resist after that first
mistake; every night Yuu tells himself it’s the last time, every evening goes
to bed determined to think of someone else, or to not touch himself at all, and
every night he stares sleepless at the ceiling and feels his resolution
dissolve out of his mind while he convinces himself that this is the last time,
this really will be the last one as his fingers trail over his stomach and down
under the edge of his pajama pants to close on the heat of his erection.
By the time Kei starts high school, Yuu’s given up entirely. There’s no coming
back from years of secretly fantasizing about his brother; even if he stopped
himself now, if he found a girlfriend or even a boyfriend, there’s no way he’ll
ever be able to wipe out the history so shadowed in his own mind. And he’s
tired, worn out by his futile efforts to resist his own desire; it’s easier to
accept that he’s a failure in this as in so much else. It’s a relief, in a
bitter kind of way, to know that he can indulge himself in the darkness of the
nighttime, in the shadows of his own room, a comfort to know that for all the
hours he spends attempting normalcy with Kei at school and during Stride
practice and in the evenings at home he’ll have the relief of complete
corruption waiting for him that night. He finds that if he curls his body in
around his right hand he can work his left behind himself, can press fingers
slick with the lube he hides under his bed into his body and pretend it’s Kei
thrusting into him, can push until the ache of friction and the heat of desire
tangle inextricably together and push him over the edge to the shuddering
orgasm that grants him a few moments of blessed relief from his perpetual
guilt.
Yuu doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Stopping is an impossibility, he knows
from his failed attempt at the beginning, but it’s getting harder and harder to
make it through practice with the heat of Kei’s glare fixed on him, harder to
persuade his imagination that it’s Kei moving over him and not just the worn-
out edges of a too-familiar fantasy. And now he’s getting paranoid too;
yesterday he was sure he heard Kei’s voice outside the door after he came,
Kei’s voice moaning ‘aniki’ in tones of unmistakable pleasure. Yuu hadn’t
moved, hadn’t dared go to pull the door open and check; by the time the morning
came to drag him into wakefulness it felt like a fever-dream composed of the
strange hazy unreality of memories formed too close to sleep. And Kei had said
nothing at breakfast, at school, at practice; he barely even spoke to Yuu all
day, even if it seemed he was staring shadows at his brother every time Yuu
turned to look.
By that night Yuu’s convinced himself it was a dream, a vivid hallucination
brought on by the exhaustion of the day and the onset of sleep; when he
switches his desk light off and draws the blankets of his bed back, he’s hardly
thinking about it at all for his anticipation of what is to come. He’s already
calling up his favorite fantasy in his head as he spills lube over his fingers,
the one where Kei pins him back against the wall in the clubroom and bruises
his mouth swollen with kisses, and by the time he’s kicked his pajama pants
down to his knees and curled his fingers around himself he’s half-hard even
before he’s touched his skin. He takes a stroke, two, and the fantasy in his
head is shading into suggestion, offering the weight of Kei’s hips pressing
against his, the idea of Kei’s cock grinding hard at his hip through their
shorts. Yuu lets his breathing go, reaches behind himself with slick fingers,
and when he pushes one inside he can’t help the whimper that escapes his
throat, the sound so soft it couldn’t be heard except by someone pressing their
ear to the other side of his door. The friction feels good, the pressure more
so, and Yuu’s stroking faster over himself, coaxing his cock to full hardness
as he slides his fingers deeper into his body. In his head Kei is pushing his
shorts down, is reaching between his thighs to force his legs apart, and Yuu
gasps a breath and thrusts in with a second finger, pushing himself wider
around the intrusion of his own touch. He can imagine the heat of Kei’s mouth
at his lips, at his throat, pressing warm against his shoulder, can imagine
Kei’s fingers sliding deep into him instead of his own, forcing a jolt of
pleasure through his body with the unerring skill that Kei shows in whatever he
does. Yuu rocks his fingers harder into himself, stretching past the point of
comfort and to the edge of pain; his back arches, his body strains, but his
cock twitches, too, the head going slick with a spill of precome as he strokes.
“Ah,” and he’s choking on the sound, his breathing is straining in his chest as
his thoughts go dizzy on heat. “Kei.”
The door opening is so startling that Yuu can’t even react for a moment. It’s
an impossibility, something so horrifying he can’t even fathom it, and for the
first second all he can do is stare at the figure silhouetted in the frame with
his lips still parted on his brother’s name. There’s no question of what he’s
doing -- his hand is on his cock, his fingers are buried inside himself -- and
for a heartbeat of time Yuu’s brain simply refuses to process what’s happening,
offers no reaction at all to the intrusion. Then the figure shoves the door
shut, and strides forward, and there’s a hand at Yuu’s hip, fingertips digging
so hard into his skin Yuu can feel bruises rising instantly. A shove, a push
rough enough to turn Yuu over onto his stomach, and Yuu chokes on his breath,
his whole body shuddering with a wave of pointless adrenaline. He can hear the
other’s breathing, can hear the rapidfire rush of air in his lungs, and it’s
just as a hand closes on Yuu’s wrist to drag his fingers out of himself that
Yuu’s brain catches up to what’s happening, and his mouth catches up with his
breathing, and he manages to choke out “Kei” again, in recognition this time
instead of a plea.
Kei moves fast. There’s a hand in Yuu’s hair, a fist in the strands, and then
he’s shoving Yuu’s head down against the sheets, turning him so the gasp of
panicked shock in Yuu’s throat muffles into inaudibility against the
resistance. “Shut up,” Kei growls, low and grating and hot, and Yuu wants to
nod to indicate that he understands but he can’t move his head at all for how
hard Kei is pushing him down to the sheets. He can’t ease his hold on his cock,
can’t make any attempt to cover the sweat-slick of his exposed skin, and then
Kei’s knees are shoving between his and Yuu has a sudden jolt of premonition.
Kei’s breathing hard behind him, Yuu can hear the sound of his clothes rustling
as he moves, and then there’s friction against Yuu’s skin, the weight of hot
pressure sliding against his entrance a moment before Kei rocks forward and the
stretch of his cock sinks into the grip of his brother’s body.
Yuu doesn’t know what sound he makes. It’s too-loud, he knows, helpless heat
unfurling up his throat to spill into noise against the sheets, but he can’t
help it; it’s too much, the sudden pressure so much more than his fingers and
the heat so unfamiliar and the awareness hot and slick as oil in his veins that
Kei is inside him, that Kei is fucking him right here, right now. Kei huffs an
exhale, loud enough that Yuu can hear the strain on it but far more softly than
Yuu’s own muffled groan, and draws back by a half-inch to thrust in deeper,
past the reach of Yuu’s fingers. Yuu tightens involuntarily at the movement,
his whole body tensing against the force, and Kei hisses at the sensation, heat
spilling past his clenched teeth to pour over Yuu’s shoulders. Yuu’s eyes are
wide against the sheets under him for all that he can’t see anything; he can’t
move, either his head or his hand or his body, can’t even think for the
overwhelming array of input he’s getting. His mind is screaming, putting voice
to the protest that this is wrong, this is so much worse than anything Yuu’s
done before, that this is Kei in fact and not just in fantasy, that there’s a
line that has been crossed, that is being crossed with every heavy thrust Kei
takes into him. But there’s the heat, too, strong and getting stronger, surging
up Yuu’s spine with each slide of Kei’s cock inside his body, and relief, the
blinding satisfaction of finally, suddenly having all his fantasies converted
into the slick heat of reality.
Yuu can hear Kei’s breathing, can feel the grip of the other’s hand bruising at
his hip to hold him still; each movement of the other’s body pushes Yuu open
around the force of his cock, each forward thrust brings the heat of his balls
pressing close against Yuu’s skin. There’s a slick sound, the catch of the lube
sticking to itself as it eases Kei’s movement, and Yuu is starting to tremble,
he can feel the sensation mounting to excess in the shiver in his thighs and
the ache low in his stomach. Kei’s gasping, now, gulping air over Yuu’s
shoulders like he’s just finished a race; Yuu wonders, in a dizzy, distant way,
if his skin is as flushed now as it is then, if the grey of his eyes is as
heat-hazed as it always looks at the finish line of a race. He’s moving faster,
too, driving himself forward in short, hard strokes that barely pull out of Yuu
at all, and Yuu is tensing around Kei to match, his body setting a rhythm of
reaction completely independent of any rational thought in his head.
Yuu gasps for air, straining for oxygen past the barrier of the sheets under
him, and Kei shoves hard into him, choking some half-formed sound into silence
as his cock pulses heat inside Yuu’s body. Yuu shudders, the darkness of
illicit pleasure swamping his attention, and then Kei’s touch releases his hip
and slides between his body and the sheets, and Kei barely has time to curl his
fingers into a fist atop Yuu’s hold before Yuu’s whole body convulses and he
comes, spurting over Kei’s fingers and clenching around Kei’s cock. There’s a
moan in his throat, the helpless wail of Kei’s name forcing itself free from
his chest, but Kei doesn’t let his hold on Yuu’s hair go, and whatever sound
makes it to the air is lost before it can escape the barrier of the shut door.
Kei doesn’t move until Yuu has trembled through the last aftershocks of
pleasure, doesn’t ease his hold on the other’s hair until the heat in Yuu’s
cock has faded to leave him soft against the sticky of his brother’s hold. It’s
only then that Kei lets the grip he has on Yuu’s hair go and lets himself slide
back and out of his brother; Yuu can feel the movement drag friction against
overstimulated nerve endings, can feel the wet slick that follows Kei’s cock
trickle against the back of his thigh. It makes him shudder with more heat than
he’d like to admit, and he can hear the rush of Kei’s exhale hard in his chest,
can feel Kei’s hand tense for a moment of reaction against his hip. Then the
bed shifts, Kei moves back, and by the time Yuu dares to turn his head and look
back Kei is on his feet and pulling his pajama pants back into place. His head
is down, his hair falling into shadow over his features, but Yuu can see his
hands shaking very slightly as he draws his clothes back into place.
Yuu swallows, tries to fit moisture back on his lips and coherency back in his
thoughts. “Kei, I--”
“Don’t,” Kei snaps, and he’s looking up, the nighttime silver of the moonlight
from the window chasing away the shadows from his eyes and turning them almost
translucent in the dim lighting. His chin is up, his mouth set into a frown;
looking down at Yuu, the lines of his features are beautiful enough to steal
the other’s breath, to leave him as voiceless as if his mouth were still
pressed against the sheets. “Don’t talk.”
He stares at the other for several long seconds. It’s not until Yuu takes a
silent inhale and nods in understanding that the harsh angle of Kei’s chin
lowers, that the threat of a scowl eases from his features. His attention
slides off Yuu’s face, trails across the bare skin still left uncovered for his
gaze; Yuu can see Kei’s throat work, can see the ink-black of his eyelashes
shift as he blinks slow and heavy with heat. Then he turns, and reaches for the
door, and he’s gone as fast as he came, the door clicking shut behind him
before Yuu even has a chance to drag a sheet to cover himself.
Yuu stays still for a long, long time, staring at the door where Kei left and
feeling his heart thud panic and heat in equal parts through his veins. His
body aches with the afterimage of sex; his skin prickles discomfort at the
liquid clinging sticky against it. But he doesn’t get up to take a shower,
doesn’t shift to change his sheets or his clothes; he just stays where he is,
staring unseeing into the familiar shadows of his room while Kei’s come dries
on his thighs.
Without an audience, Yuu can pretend he’s not smiling.
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