Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9361775.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_Ritsu/Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo
  Character:
      Kageyama_Ritsu, Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, First_Aid, teenage_hormones_gone_awry, Unresolved
      Sexual_Tension, a_lot_of_it, Masturbation
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-17 Words: 2194
****** those who flock to strength ******
by leifmotifff
Summary
     Ritsu notices Mob's injuries from his fight with Teru and wants to
     help... Mob's not making it very easy for him, though.
Notes
     Takes place a couple days after the Teru fight. We don't really see
     any injuries on Mob in the manga and anime, but how he about to be
     smashed through brick walls and against concrete statues etc. without
     at the very least some bruising??
     also this is utter garbage so apologies
See the end of the work for more notes
A few days after mysterious phenomena in the skies above Seasoning City is
reported, and Mob arrives home late and soaking wet from the rain, Ritsu walks
in on his brother in the bathroom. Mob startles at the sound of the door
opening suddenly, accidentally knocking a tube of toothpaste off the counter.
“Oh, Nii-san! Sorry, I…”
Ritsu trails off. Mob’s uniform jacket is open, and Ritsu can see in the
reflection what Mob was looking at in the mirror. Beneath the unclasped collar,
what looks like a dark bruise snakes around his brother’s neck.
Ritsu feels the hairs on the back of his head stand up, and he rushes over to
him, panicked. “Nii-san, what happened? Are you alright? Who did this?” He puts
a hand on Mob’s shoulder, making him turn to face him.
“Ah, I’m fine, this is just—”
But Ritsu doesn’t listen, just opens Mob’s jacket to push it off his shoulders.
Mob lets him, and Ritsu’s eyes widen when he sees another large bruise on his
arm, just above his elbow. The harsh fingermarks are also perfectly
distinguishable on Mob’s neck now without the uniform cloaking them. “Did—did
the thugs at school do this to you? I thought I heard them bothering you in the
hallway the other day—”
Small fingers curl gently around Ritsu’s wrist, and Ritsu stops. He didn’t even
realize he’d lifted his hand to cup Mob’s face, fingertips pushing into his
silky straight hair.
“It’s fine, Ritsu,” Mob says. A downcast expression flits across his face for
just a moment, so quick Ritsu would have missed it if he wasn’t standing so
close. “I… I did have a fight with someone. But it was a misunderstanding. I
don’t think it will happen again.”
Ritsu wants to scoff at the mild response. How could Mob still be so naïve?
Bullies never need a reason to pick on quiet types like his brother, they just
do.
The hand not holding Mob’s face clenches into a fist, before Ritsu lets out a
small sigh. It wouldn’t help to agitate Mob by prodding about this more though;
he was clearly trying to stop Ritsu from worrying about him. Ritsu would just
have to investigate on his own later.
“Let me at least help you with these for now,” Ritsu mumbles. He absently
slides his fingers down to brush the soft skin of Mob’s neck, inspecting the
discoloration. Mob shivers a little at the touch, eyelids fluttering, and Ritsu
tenses. He yanks his hand away, turning briskly to open the medicine cabinet.
“Mom gave me something one time, for an injury I got in P.E. class… ah, here.”
He pulls a jar out from between the various first-aid products and turns back
to face Mob. “Why don't you sit down? I’ll put this on your bruises.”
Mob looks from the jar back to Ritsu’s face. The corners of his mouth twitch
into a small, unexpected smile. “Ritsu, you’re too nice to me. I can put it on
myself, you don’t have to—”
“That’s alright,” Ritsu says, too quickly. “I can see better than you can in
the mirror, anyway. This way you won’t miss anything,” he explains, though he
feels his cheeks heat a little, unsure why he’s insisting on this.
Mob gives him a measured look. “Thank you, Ritsu,” he says quietly, before
moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
Ritsu unscrews the lid carefully, placing it on the countertop and dipping his
fingers into the jar. He gathers some of the ointment on his fingertips and
approaches his brother. Mob just watches him, unreadable as always.
“Um, can you tilt you head up for me?” Ritsu asks, somewhat awkwardly.
Mob raises his chin, exposing his marred neck to the light. He looks so
vulnerable like that—even though Ritsu knows that’s far from the case.
Regardless, the thought of someone else putting their hands on his brother like
that makes his blood boil.
He tries to tamp down on that anger and focus presently on the task at hand. He
brings his fingers up to Mob’s neck and begins rubbing the salve into the
tender skin there. Mob’s lips part to take a quick breath, and Ritsu falters,
pulling his fingers away. “Sorry, does it hurt?”
“No, it’s okay,” Mob says. His voice is so soft, and for some reason it makes a
strange sensation rise in Ritsu’s belly. He ignores it though, and reaches into
the jar for more of the ointment. He steps in close again, practically standing
between Mob’s thighs, and continues spreading the salve over the purple-red
marks in small, circular strokes.
The bathroom is quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Mob’s eyes don’t
leave his face the whole time, and despite being used to his brother’s
inherently taciturn nature, the silence now—the way his eyes bore into
Ritsu—feels vaguely unsettling.
Ritsu feels a thin sheen of moisture begin to collect on his forehead. The more
of Mob’s neck he touches as he applies the salve, the more his fingers itch
with the inexplicable urge to wrap around that pale throat, to see if the shape
of his hands would match with the imprints there. Even after all the bruises
are coated with the glistening ointment, his hands linger, and he has to force
himself to pull them away, swallowing down the odd compulsion.
“There,” Ritsu says, his voice coming out a weird rasp. He clears his throat,
and asks, “Where else, just your arm?” He dips his fingers into the jar for
more ointment, and Mob lifts his arm, twisting the side with the contusion on
it towards Ritsu.
“It feels like there may be one on my shoulder. I’m not sure though.”
Ritsu finishes applying the clear salve to Mob’s arm. “Take your shirt off, I
can look for you,” Ritsu hears himself saying, a peculiar racing feeling in his
chest. Mob looks at him blankly, and Ritsu almost wants to take it back, but
then Mob is mumbling, “okay,” in that passive way of his, and lifting the hem
of his shirt gingerly over his head. He stands and turns so Ritsu can take a
look.
Ritsu swears softly under his breath. Mob’s back is mottled with bruises,
several raised, dark purple stains that feather out at the edges, mainly around
his shoulder blades, but a couple on his lower back and hip. It looks grotesque
on his small frame. “Nii-san…”
“I-Is it bad?” Mob asks.
Ritsu is lost for words. He can’t believe his brother was involved in this kind
of violence. It looks like someone had slammed him repeatedly against a wall,
maybe even kicked him around.
Seeming to sense Ritsu’s unease, Mob is quick to reassure him, “It probably
looks worse than it is. I’m anemic, remember, so I bruise much easier than most
people.”
“Still, this is…” Ritsu breathes. He has to tear his eyes away from the welts,
and he picks up the jar from next to the sink. “Let’s go into your room.”
Ritsu waits for Mob to gather up his uniform jacket and follows him out of the
bathroom and into his bedroom. Mob puts his jacket on top of his chest of
drawers before lowering himself to sit cross-legged on his bed, looking up at
Ritsu expectantly.
“Lie down on your stomach,” Ritsu says gently, kneeling down on the futon next
to Mob. He tries not to think about the tiny twist of pleasure he gets in his
gut when Mob does as he’s told without question.
Ritsu sits on his shins next to Mob’s prone form, and scoops up a larger amount
of the ointment this time. He warms it a bit between his hands before spreading
it slowly over Mob’s shoulders. He winces a little when Mob jerks under his
fingers, groaning into his folded arms.
“I’m fine,” Mob says. His voice sounds so wrecked, though, Ritsu’s not sure if
he believes him.
Careful not to press too hard this time, Ritsu rubs his palms lightly along
Mob’s shoulder blades. He watches as a bright pink flush starts to spread from
Mob’s neck down his back. Ritsu frowns. He hopes his ministrations aren’t
increasing his brother’s discomfort…
His eyes fall on the dark bruise curling around Mob's hip, so large that half
of it is hidden by his uniform pants. Ritsu hesitates for a moment when he
reaches the waistband, but he steels himself before he has a chance to chicken
out, and slides his slick fingers underneath, gliding them along the swell of
his brother's ass.
Mob chokes out a strangled moan, his hips tilting up and away from the bed for
a second before crashing down. It’s just a small, jerky little movement, but
that rushing feeling in Ritsu’s stomach—almost like vertigo—intensifies as Mob
squirms into the futon, whimpering softly into his forearms.
Mob lifts his head from his folded arms, craning his neck to look at back at
him. "I'm okay, Ritsu," Mob says, voice watery. "You can stop."
Ritsu feels a jolt of arousal surge through him when he sees how red Mob’s
cheeks are, how debauched it makes him look. And the small, sweet noises he's
making… Ritsu’s never heard his brother sound like that before. It's almost as
if... Nii-san is also...
Mob is wrong. He definitely can’t stop.
Taking a quivering breath, Ritsu rubs the pads of his fingers along the edge of
the bruise, and delights in the way Mob's face crumples as the sensation tears
through his body. Unthinking, Ritsu digs his fingertips into the center of the
welt, a sudden greedy feeling overtaking him. He wants to incite some reaction,
and he is instantly rewarded when Mob cries out, voice hoarse beyond belief,
red cheek pressed into the sheets.
Mob moans quietly as his hips jerk into the bed, and Ritsu feels hot, so hot.
Any modicum of sense he may have had is gone, he just wants to touch more of
Mob’s soft body, needs to hear more of those little whimpers—Ritsu swallows. If
he could just turn him over, undo his pants to make sure—
He practically jumps out of his skin when he hears the front door open.
“Ritsu! Shige! Are you there? Can one of you help me bring the groceries in?”
Ritsu blinks, his heart hammering in his chest. A confused second passes before
he removes his hands shakily from the seat of Mob's pants, face flushing
fiercely as he realizes what he must look like.
He should leave.
“It’s okay, Nii-san, stay here,” Ritsu finds himself saying thickly. “You
shouldn’t strain yourself any more.”
Mob peeks his head up to peer gratefully at him from above his folded arms, and
Ritsu’s breath catches softly in his throat. Mob’s eyes look misty, his cheeks
tinged dark pink, lips wet and puffy like he was biting them, and Ritsu needs
to get out of here right fucking now.
He almost slips on the comforter as he climbs clumsily to his feet, dizzy and
disoriented as he exits his brother’s room. “Coming, Mom, just a minute!” he
projects in the general direction of the entryway, but he rushes into his room
instead, accidentally shutting the door behind him with more force than
necessary.
Fuck fuck fuck—is he really going to do this? But he already knows the answer,
and he leans back heavily against the door, pulls his sweatpants haphazardly
down to his thighs. He has to stifle a strained moan when his fingers reach for
his aching hard-on. Eyes screwed shut, he bites his lip and gives his cock a
couple of rough tugs, the image of Mob rutting instinctively against the futon
still blazing behind eyelids, his soft sounds still crystal clear in his ears.
Ritsu’s fingers are slick from the ointment, and it doesn’t take more than a
few seconds—the memory of his brother's flushed face—before he’s coming, back
arching almost violently off the door, left hand slapping over his mouth to
muffle a harsh groan.
Unfortunately, Ritsu doesn’t have much time to come gracefully back down to
earth, because he can hear his mother’s voice, now more annoyed sounding,
calling for him again from the front of the house. His legs shaking, he pulls
his sweats back up messily and grabs some tissues from the box on his desk,
wiping his hands clean before bending down to wipe away a few splashes of his
come on the floor.
Ritsu tosses the soiled tissues and heads out into the hallway, still panting.
He notices Mob’s bedroom door is closed, though he’s fairly certain he didn’t
close it. Guilty heat creeps up his spine as he thinks about what he just did,
but his mind wonders wildly. Maybe, right now… his brother is…
“Ritsu! What's taking so long? Come help me unload the car,” his mother snaps
impatiently, looking cross.
“Yes, Mom, sorry,” Ritsu mutters, and he averts his eyes, face still warm.
“And why are you all sweaty?”
Ritsu pretends he doesn’t hear her as he jogs out the front door.
End Notes
     What do you think, was Mob getting turned on from his brother
     touching him, or was that just wishful thinking on Ritsu's part?
     (*≧ω≦)
     Thanks for reading! Find me on twitter @leifmotifff for more
     brotherfucking!!
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