Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9532469.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_Ritsu/Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo, Dimple/Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo
  Character:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo, Kageyama_Ritsu, Dimple_(Mob_Psycho_100)
  Additional Tags:
      Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Spitroasting, Crossdressing, Age_Difference,
      Sibling_Incest
  Collections:
      Mob_Twitter_NSFW_Gift_Exchange
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-31 Words: 4883
****** separate parts we forced to collide ******
by derogatory
Summary
     "Hey, little brother." Dimple stares at him over Mob's shoulder.
     "Watch this."
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Ritsu doesn't have any interest in the girls' uniform. It's probably because he
doesn't have feelings for any of the girls at school. After all, there's
already someone infinitely more appealing at home, desirable in everything from
the crisp lines of his own (boys') uniform to Mob's worn-out sleep clothes. So
it wasn't Ritsu's idea to incorporate the skirt and blouse into their kissing
games. Mob had already worn it once; his brother says it was for a job, but
Ritsu knows Reigen better than that. That conman probably wanted the uniform
for something filthy. He wants to see Mob like a girl for perverted reasons.
Not like how Ritsu sees him. Ritsu doesn't need flashy costumes or made-up
scenarios to dictate how reverently he adores his brother.
"But." Mob had looked at the uniform almost forlornly, folded up neatly in the
bottom drawer. "It'd be a shame to just throw it away, right?"
Still, Ritsu thinks irritably, between kisses down his brother's neck, over
that soft girlish bow and collar. Why the hell did Dimple have to be here?
"Me?" Dimple asks, reclining on the other side of the bedroom, his sneering
slouch out of place in Ritsu's hopes for a quiet Saturday with his brother.
"I'm here to keep a lookout, obviously."
A stress line forms over Ritsu's brow. "Can't you do that better as a spirit?"
Besides- their parents are out of town for the night. Who does Dimple think is
going to walk in on them?
"Ritsu." Desire shoots down Ritsu's spine at Mob's voice. "It's okay." It
isn't, but all protests die when Mob leans towards him, his eyes fluttering
closed.
Ritsu steels himself for the explosion and surges closer, catching Mob's mouth
with his own. The kiss is sudden and messy, teeth clicking together. Mob
mumbles something apologetic as Ritsu threads his fingers into his brother's
and hefts his weight forward. Mob's back hits the futon with a soft thump and
his body is an ebbing pool under Ritsu's, rising with their urgent pressing
together. Their intertwined hands are uncomfortably pinned between their chests
as they settle over the bedding, legs slipping against one another. The bare
skin of Mob's legs are overly warm through Ritsu's sleep pants. He can feel
every line of his brother move beneath him; one sock is riding down his leg,
bunched at Mob's ankle. The skirt is riding up over Mob's thighs, and like a
punch to the chest Ritsu can feel Mob's dick coming to life between his legs.
The material of Ritsu's pants isn't very thick, surely Mob can feel him
stirring too, with a needy press into the milky white skin of his older
brother's leg. Ritsu wants to apologize for it, his own base reactions, or
maybe cry that his brother is responding to him the same way. Or something
else, something he can't quite understand yet, something that strips them both
bare and drags them closer than they've ever been before.
They explore each other's bodies with the lines of their own, bones digging
into soft skin. The force of their rutting is going to leave a bruise. Ritsu's
free hand struggles upward and slakes through his brother's hair, getting
tangling in the braid extensions. The clips holding them delicately in place
snag and pull; Mob flinches into the kiss and Ritsu's thumb strokes just under
his ear, a silent apology.
Ritsu angles his body a fraction to the right, and their hips slot together
with stunning, blissful clarity.
"Brother." He buries his face into the crook of Mob's neck. He can trace the
other boy's jugular with his teeth, feel the thrum of his pulse. He's watched
Mob's heartbeat that way, just under the neck of his school uniform. His
brother is a ball of life and energy wrapped in a filament most people ignore.
They don't see Mob without his power, they brush past him in a crowd, utterly
forgettable. Mob's heartbeat in those ordinary moments is always at a manual
steady pace. The utility of living, of existing, of being completely ordinary.
Now the pulse under Ritsu's lips beats wild and erratic. Ritsu is standing in
front of a shuddering doorway, tremoring with an unseen force, threatening to
collapse inward and drown Ritsu in unfathomable depths and power. He's heady
with the possibility of it, the threat of Mob unleashed.
Ritsu leans back to recollect his thoughts and observes his work on Mob; hair
ruffled, fanned out over the blanket, lips moist and panting. There's a tug
just below Ritsu's stomach, something like guilt and hate and shame but so much
better, so much hotter and insistent that says I did this. Brother is like this
because of me.
Dimple exhales on a long, intrusive hiss.
"Shige-chan looks pretty like that," he says. "Hey, Ricchan." Ritsu's annoyance
ticks up by several double digits. "Why don't you tell Shige-chan he looks
pretty?"
I am! Ritsu fumes. He said it in everything but words. In the reverence of his
hands grazing over every sliver of skin exposed to him. In the slow dig of his
teeth on the same spot on Mob's neck he's bit dozens of times before, silently
thrilled when their parents had asked about the strange bruise. In the years he
spent pining, hopeless and aimless, until it burst like hundreds of ruined
silverware sets, clattering between them in a deafening crescendo of I love
you, I love you, in so many more ways than we should.
"You look pretty," Ritsu mumbles mutinously, sliding below his brother's waist.
Mob gasps, a thin sound in their heated space.
Ritsu makes short work of peeling back his brother's underwear, and the teenage
scent of arousal hangs heavy between them. He casts the already sticky item of
clothing aside and surges forward, pressing his face to the crook of Mob's
thigh where it meets his pelvis. The skirt brushes against the tips of Ritsu's
ears. His breath snakes warm and low against his brother's newly exposed cock,
already red and leaking, poised at attention. Mob trembles from its tip through
the rest of his body, a shudder that encompasses every muscle when Ritsu
exhales.
"Ritsu," Mob says, voice strung tight, high and hysterical with every happy
sigh from the boy between his legs. It's all the encouragement he needs to take
Mob in his mouth, the head of his cock pressing past Ritsu's lips. He groans at
the taste as it glides over his tongue. With each bob of his head he
accommodates more of Mob into his mouth, to bring it nearer to the back of his
throat. After all, that's what people do in the movies, and Ritsu is an
overachiever in all things; pleasing his brother is no exception. The last time
they had tried this, Ritsu had choked and pulled away and the effect on Mob was
immediate and sobering. Ritsu knows he has to take it slower this time, has to
avoid that unhappy outcome. But that's all right too; he wants to enjoy this
for as long as he can.
Responding to Ritsu's pacing, Mob's hips twitch impatiently, angling up after
Ritsu's mouth as he pulls off to catch his breath.
"Hey, Shige-chan." Ritsu tries not to sigh through his nose when Dimple speaks.
When is he going to get the hint and leave? He can't imagine what Mob had been
thinking, asking Dimple to watch over what should be a private moment between
brothers.
Something hot and frustrated burns in the center of Ritsu's chest and he
hurriedly ducks back down to resume his work. He raises his gaze up Mob's body,
chancing a look at his brother's face for some sort of sign that he recognizes
the gravity of this latest hurdle. That Mob recognizes the accomplishment in
the way Ritsu hollows his cheeks and coats Mob in his claim, hungrily hoping
for the same ownership down his throat, over his lips, dribbling down his chin.
Instead he sees Dimple, suddenly much closer and with his brother's head in his
naked lap (When had Dimple taken off his pants anyway?) Dimple's hands, strong
and commanding, guiding his cock past Mob's sweet, willing lips—
Ritsu pulls his mouth away from Mob, bares his teeth, voice raw, "Get away from
him."
Dimple's glance to him is infuriating casual, one hand resting in Mob's hair
lightly- almost lovingly. Ritsu might've called it that, if it was anybody but
Dimple doing it. There were a thousand other things he could call this, a
thousand things wrong with someone else touching his brother. Something like
static electricity prickles under Ritsu's skin, crackling through his pores.
"Ritsu," Mob whines. His hip shift, his legs squirming against the futon. Ritsu
hesitates, gaze forcibly dragged from Dimple's smirk. He watches Mob arch
helplessly, involuntarily seeking heat to envelope him again.
"Don't worry about me." Dimple sounds like he's miles away. "You just take care
of Shige-chan down there."
Ritsu watches a string of saliva drip down Mob's cock. A shiver lances through
Mob's hips as he rises off the bedding with each frantic gulp of air. Ritsu
rubs comforting circles against the muscles of his pelvis. It doesn't calm his
brother down; it does the opposite as Mob whimpers and strains from side to
side, trying to angle his position to one where Ritsu will touch him where his
mouth has been. It's shameless, Ritsu thinks and gulps. His hands are an
impossible weight over his brother, twisting and pleading in his grasp. What
does he do with this? Where does he even start? He doesn't deserve something
this breathtaking, laid out in delicious display.
There's a strange slurping noise as Dimple forces himself past the holy opening
that's Mob's mouth, pressing forward until it presses against the inside of
Mob's cheek, a lewd bump. Mob's eyes squeeze shut and his throat bobs
delicately, forced to swallow excess liquid pooling around his tongue.
Ritsu imagines dismantling the house brick by brick. In destroying their house
he would unwind insulation from the walls and remove the intricate piping
system one piece at a time. He'd unravel the house to its foundation and then
unwravel the people within in, starting with the sallow skin of Dimple's
overused bodyguard meatsuit. He'll flay him alive for putting any part of his
body on Mob's.
Ritsu thinks about these things but doesn't do them. He can't look away.
"That's right," Dimple purrs, hand cupping Mob's cheek and angling his face
closer. More of his cock vanishes past Mob's spit-slick lips and the other boy
whimpers. "You're doing so good. Too bad your little brother is slacking."
The burn in Ritsu's chest rises to his throat. With a competitive surge, he
takes the head of Mob's dick in his mouth and sucks. Mob's toes curl and a
barely contained squeal slips from his stuffed mouth. It must be the
combination of giving and receiving, the deviant way he's used at both ends
that brings Mob to his crashing conclusion. His legs thrash underneath Ritsu's
in a burst of energy before he spills into Ritsu's mouth. Ritsu pulls away
reflexively, mournfully watching as his brother spills the rest over himself.
The sticky substance clings to his skirt, flipped up at his waist, moving with
the rapid rise and fall of of Mob's gasps. He looks wrecked. I did this to
Brother.
Dimple grunts and his hips jerk forward. The intensity of the motion makes Mob
gag and before Ritsu can protest, Dimple pulls out. The offending dick hangs
close to his brother's face, large and glistening and for a moment, Ritsu is
sure this monster is going to come all over his brother's perfect face. There's
comfort in violence, in Ritsu's old habit of putting someone low with his
psychic powers. Just as Ritsu's ready to exorcise the spirit in the most
painful way he can imagine; Dimple sits back.
Mob blinks, watching Dimple's retreat with a slow questioning stare. His mouth
is still open, like it's waiting to be filled, and Ritsu's ache between his
legs has become a stifling heat overtaking the bedroom, overwhelming his anger.
"You did great, Shige-chan." Dimple shifts their positions, hoisting Mob up and
around, onto his knees. With a harmless pat on the ass, he turns the boy to
face Ritsu. "Now you need to help Ricchan."
Ritsu starts to say Dimple's in no position to give Mob orders, when Mob crawls
the short distance to rest over Ritsu's lap. He carefully pulls Ritsu's pants
down until his cock slides free, already straining against the material. Coyly,
Mob takes few tentative kitten laps at the length and Ritsu shivers. He knows
Mob's not going to try and take it to the back of his throat. Ritsu can't ask
that of his brother. Dimple shouldn't have tried it either. The spirit
shouldn't be here in this private moment, shouldn't be watching Mob in this
shameful display.
Ritsu doesn't deserve this, which means Dimple definitely doesn't either.
"That's good," Dimple purrs and Ritsu's almost thankful for the infuriatingly
lilt of the spirit's voice. If it wasn't for Dimple's constant interruptions,
who knows how quickly Ritsu would have come with Mob sucking shyly at the head
of his dick. Immediately, probably, his dignity only saved by the intrusion of
this snot shaped outsider. "Shige-chan's a good little slut, aren't you?"
Ritsu has been pushing back the benchmark of what he will bear for the sake of
Mob's enjoyment, but no; that's going too far. Insults and slander are the
final needle into his cactus skin that drew blood. Ritsu has one hand on his
brother's shoulder to push him off, to pause their intimacy for a moment while
he brings his other hand down to twist Dimple's neck like an errant spoon—
Between his legs Mob ekes out a weak sound of agreement. A guttural groan
reverberates in the wet cavern of his mouth and against Ritsu's aching dick.
His brother likes that. He likes the awful things Dimple said.
It's not the first time Ritsu's been hit with the complicated mix of fury and
arousal. And judging by the way he catches Dimple's hand snaking under Mob's
skirt, Ritsu doubts it will be the last. Mob doesn't inch away, instead he
angles the top half of his body down to better take Ritsu in his mouth, his own
hand working what he can't urge past his throat. With Mob's ass lifted in the
air, Ritsu can see Mob's thighs are still a mess, left splattered with the
drying come. The pleated skirt that bunches up at his waist has wet spots from
where his dick rubs against it.
Dimple follows Ritsu's stare and chuckles. "You're even wet down here like a
girl." Ritsu watches him idly stroke his brother's back to his thighs. Fingers
sweep through the mess he left when Mob came apart earlier, smearing white
sticky fluid with each swipe of his hand.
Dimple's hand found one place in particular, its movement slow and prodding.
Mob pulls off Ritsu's cock with a gasp, head dropping between his shoulders.
"Not like a girl here," Dimple smirks and his arm jerks. Mob snaps straight and
unravels with every thrust of the hand between his legs, trembling in a
graceless line.
It's a shipwreck, an explosion, a slow death by poisoning to watch Dimple
pistoning between Mob's legs that wobble uncertainly. He murmurs something low
and mean and moves too quickly, sending Mob collapsing into Ritsu's lap, blow
job forgotten. Ritsu's stomach flips as he watches his beloved brother grind
shamelessly back against the hand that's working him open from behind. Mob's
voice is a symphony of breathless noises, half words and scrambled pleas. His
face scrapes against Ritsu's inner thigh, moving only with the push and pull of
Dimple's hand.
"Which one of us do you want inside, Shige-chan?" Dimple asks, voice an unkind
hum as he works behind Mob, awful and unseen. "Maybe you want us both. Gonna
stuff you so full."
Ritsu's about to psychically launch Dimple right through this window, when Mob
responds to the taunt with another moan. All the air goes out of the room at
the sound, at the way Mob ruts his hips into the bedding, desperate for
friction. Ritsu's cock throbs. Is that what his brother wants? That kind of
awful treatment. Is that something Ritsu can even do? He feels small and
inexperienced from the way Dimple's talking, from how he sends Mob into a
whimpering heap when he pulls away.
Dimple strokes his own cock a few times, hand already moist with lube. It looks
bigger than it had a moment ago; definitely bigger than Ritsu's. He looks up,
locking eyes with Ritsu. He swallows hard and tries to maintain his anger.
Anger and jealousy are easier emotions to manage, easier than arousal.
"Well," Dimple pauses thoughtfully. "I'm still gonna go in first."
In a fluid motion Dimple's cock disappears inside his brother. Mob's hot,
panicked breath brushes against his skin as Dimple pushes to the hilt, one hand
petting Mob's hair absently.
Ritsu wants to bat that hand away. Wants to pry his brother free and reduce
Dimple to empty energy, to banish him from their bedroom and their lives. But
he keeps thinking these violent things and doing nothing. It makes sense Ritsu
would want Mob only for himself. He should feel these things and take action
because he's never hesitated before when it came to protecting Mob. He
shouldn't feel this pressure building between his legs with every incremental
slide of someone else's cock into his brother. Listening to every wet hiccup
that escapes Mob's mouth as someone else takes him, laid bare and willing in
front of Ritsu. Dimple bottoms out slow- tortuously slow judging from the way
his brother squeaks and twists.
Abruptly, the atmosphere of the room changes. The need between their bodies
transforms from desire to fear and Ritsu feels it in his bones, in the muscle
memory of his brother's dangerous moods. The windows rattle with a strong wind
outside, like the rapid onset of a storm despite the weather being reasonably
clear before this all started. The overhead light swings, and the floorboards
below them strain and creak. Books lift off the shelf, dancing through the air
in frantic patterns as Mob's psychic energy coats the room like a fog. Mob is
frustrated in a way he's not used to, in a way Ritsu can't bring him to with
their sheepish stolen kisses. Ritsu doesn't have the mature abilities to do
this. It's a new sort of frustration for his brother, one that's bone deep and
aching, that hits Mob with such intensity that he's afraid- afraid of what
bodies can do, what can be done to himself. Ritsu is also frustrated and
afraid, even if no one's touched him in what seems like ages.
He reaches forward and brushes his thumb over the curve of Mob's cheek, tilting
his face up to look at him. His brother's eyes are wide, pupils dilated. Every
heaving breath takes a full body effort, rocking Mob forward on his elbows as
Dimple pulls out and pushes inside.
"Brother," Ritsu says and smiles.
Almost immediately, Mob relaxes under his his touch, leaning his face into
Ritsu's hand with a relieved sigh. From the corner of his eye, Ritsu can see
books fall back into place on the shelf. The wind howls less outside, storm
abating for the time being. Mob is still panting, but now with less of a scared
grimace.
"Aren't you a good slut, Shige-chan?" Dimple says in a harsh rush of words,
without any care for the discomfort and panic Mob was descending into only
seconds before. Dimple is closer now than he's ever been, probably too close
for Ritsu's complicated feelings about his brother. His words hit Ritsu through
a thick haze of unbearable arousal. His brother's mouth is warm and inviting.
"Then help Ricchan."
Until this moment, Mob was so beautiful Ritsu almost forgot his own base
desires. The reminder hits him like a wave, with a sudden inescapable need to
get satisfaction for his throbbing cock, from whatever part of Mob is willing.
Mob breathlessly abides, lips stretching around his younger brother's cock.
Ritsu gasps sharply, like if he holds his breath he can make this last longer.
Mob's movements are still so shy, tentatively coating his dick with his saliva.
His plush lips make a seal around the length and Ritsu has to bite back a
groan. It's better if Dimple doesn't hear that. This filthy thing seems so much
worse with Dimple around, with Dimple's cock inside Mob while he coaxes Ritsu
farther and farther into Mob's mouth. You shouldn't do that, Ritsu frets
uselessly. We shouldn't be doing any of this. He feels like he's overheating.
"Fuck you're so tight." Dimple's hand rests on the globe of Mob's ass. "You're
made to take our cocks." He pushes forward and Mob involuntarily lets Ritsu
into the hot constricting muscle of his throat—
Ritsu comes so hard it shakes him to his core, with such a violent intensity
that Mob sputters and pulls back, catching most of it over his cheeks. He
squeezes his eyes closed and Ritsu tries to get enough air into his lungs to
apologize. The streaks of white hang from Mob's chin and when he opens his
mouth to cough, a line of come drips between his lips.
With no pretense, Mob is snatched away from him. Dimple hauls him up, his chest
to Dimple's back, an arm around Mob's waist. His brother's mouth hanging open
uselessly and his head lolls back against Dimple's shoulder, like he's too weak
to hold himself up without help.
He looks good like that, Ritsu thinks.
"Hey, little brother." Dimple stares at him over Mob's shoulder. "Watch this."
He angles himself between Mob's hips.
Ritsu has a moment to warn Mob, but he decides against it. He wants to watch as
Mob's blown blank expression comes apart, see his eyes widen and shut as Dimple
forces deep inside him. Ritsu hasn't felt that way before now, it doesn't fit
the running narrative of he wants from his brother. But now Ritsu is silent,
half to consider what's changed inside himself, and half to see how Mob will
react.
Dimple's fingers must've loosened him up, but clearly not enough from the way
Mob jerks at the intrusion. He clutches at the body behind him, struggling
weakly as Dimple's cock presses through that tight ring of muscle at a new,
vicious angle. Ritsu didn't warn him. He's not sure he's angry anymore, but he
still thinks awful and needy things he shouldn't: That should be me. Another
thought, dark and churning with power and selfishness: I want to see more.
Mob cries out with each ruthless thrust, cock jumping on full, perverse
display. Ritsu leans forward, wanting to be closer to the show. His brother
reaches back for Dimple- to hold him closer or push him away, Ritsu isn't sure
which and isn't sure he cares at this point. He can see Mob's belly twitch, his
thighs shaking.
"Ricchan doesn't fuck you like this, huh?" Dimple growls with savage jerk of
his hips. "You need this." Mob nods weakly, moans stuttering with the movement
of their hips. Ritsu's mouth is dry. "I'm gonna fill you up."
Mercilessly, Dimple reaches around to pump the boy's cock in his fist. It only
takes a few rough strokes before Mob comes again, trying to double forward as
it overtakes him. He's close enough for Ritsu to touch, wracked with sobs, skin
bright with sweat. The skirt he's wearing is ruined, they'll have to throw it
away for sure now. Ritsu hungrily eyes Mob, ragdoll limp. Maybe they'll keep
the uniform. Maybe the three of them can do this again, over and over until his
brother exists only in the moments when he's being filled, desperate and
pleading.
The arm around Mob's waist tightens as Dimple's entire body goes still. Mob
whimpers at the sudden halt. He's undone, Ritsu realizes with a possessive
seize of his heart. With the difficult desire to watch someone pull his brother
apart in each line of his being, to unmake Mob with slow swipes of a broad
hand, rather than be the one to do it himself.
Dimple catches him staring again. "You like that Ricchan?" Ritsu has no idea
what he likes anymore. He feels like a wholly different person, watching his
brother stuffed full and leaking from someone else's cock. "Give me a minute
and it can be your turn, little brother. Gonna split you in two."
The reaction is immediate, and explosive. A psychic pulse forces Dimple across
the room, hitting the wall with a heavy thud. Before he can recover, he's held
in place by something like a fist, coiling and twisting in the space between
them. Ritsu is afraid. And it shouldn't turn him on like it does.
"Ah, Shigeo, relax, it's a figure of speech," Dimple stammers. Mob doesn't look
entirely convinced, straightening up further, somehow able to look menacing
after being so thoroughly debauched. Energy pulses around him, and one braid is
looser than the other, unraveling while it hangs suspended in the air. Ritsu
can't even be happy he's the reason his brother's like this, that the threat of
injury to Ritsu is what pushed Mob to this extreme. The wall looks cracked
where Dimple hit it. The heated atmosphere has changed and something that
should be fear hangs low and weighty inside Ritsu.
It takes him a moment to realize they're waiting for him to say something.
Ritsu wets his lips, tasting his brother, steeling his courage.
"It's all right, Brother," he says and the crackling presence around Mob
loosens somewhat. The vice grip on Ritsu's chest does not. "I wouldn't let him
anyway."
"Oh." Mob says and an expression resembling his older brother crosses over his
face, looking relieved. The tension in the room evaporates, like a popped
bubble, like the burst of sunshine from behind a patch of clouds. A loosened
braid unclips entirely and falls over Mob's shoulder, onto the blankets. Mob
follows it down with his eyes before he notices it. The thick, white fluid
oozing out between his legs.
"Oh," he says again with a note of disappointed finality.
Ritsu hurriedly climbs to his feet, staggering to the door on uncertain legs.
He's read about this, knows that cleanup is an important part of the intimacy
process. Ideally, of course, Ritsu had imagined he'd be cleaning his own fluids
off Mob. But he can't see Dimple being so courteous. He'll clean Mob up and
then they can get rid of Dimple and lie together, alone, clean and sated. And
maybe next time his brother won't ask that useless spirit to join in, and Ritsu
could feel Mob squirm under him, watch him gasp when he's filled a second time.
Ritsu holds the hand towel under the water for longer than he needs to,
imagining that.
When he comes back to the room, Dimple has two fingers inside Mob, swiping out
the milky thick fluid onto the already ruined bedding. The motion makes a
slick, squelching sound over Mob's oversensitive cries.
"Stop it," Ritsu snarls, prying at the other man's arm as he throws himself to
his knees. "He doesn't like that." Dimple's digits come free with a muted pop.
Mob's entrance is pink and open and Ritsu forgets about the warm cloth in his
hand, forgets about Dimple, forgets about psychic powers.
"No, I want both your," Mob's voice breaks uncertainly, an arm thrown over his
eyes to avoid their gaze. His throat bobs with thick, flustered gulps. There's
something white drying at the corner of his plump lips.
"Yes, Brother." Ritsu leans in and wipes the drying come off Mob's thighs
before he eases his own finger inside. The farther in he presses, the more Mob
clenches around him and momentarily he's lost in the feel of it, the rush of
power of being inside his brother, listening to his weak murmurs.
"You're pretty cute when you're obedient." Dimple leers. He slides two of his
own fingers alongside Ritsu's, undeterred by Mob's quiet keen, by Ritsu's
murderous stare. "What? Shige-chan said he wanted us both, right?" Mob's face
is still covered but when Ritsu looks up for confirmation, he gives a minute
nod. Mob moans, a pained, drawn out thing and clenches around them both, their
hands moving in different rhythms until Mob whines desperately. He's clean, now
they're just teasing him.
Ritsu relents, swatting aside Dimple's hand as well. The abused hole gapes and
twitches and it takes every ounce of Ritsu's strength to tear his gaze away. He
leans up and pushes Mob's arm aside, revealing his face. His cheeks are
streaked with tears, expression open and wanting.
He kisses Mob and tastes himself again.
"You kids are insatiable." Dimple groans. Ritsu ignores him, ignores the mean
comment on his lips about old men's lousy refractory periods. He kisses his
brother in lingering, lazy silence. "You two get started, I'll be ready to go
again in a minute."
End Notes
     happy mob exchange! I hope you like it!!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!