by A. A. Davies
His face heats as a red mark becomes visible on my skin. He’s in too many clothes. I haven’t seen anything. Even growing up together, not once had I witnessed his junk. Now, I wish I had. It would give me something to think about and dream about later.
“What are we doing, Aero?”
It’s a simple question, but why does it feel more complex than the hardest algorithm I’ve ever done?
That makes his movements stop. He leans in close, so close that I can barely breathe.
“What I’ve been dreaming about doing since you kissed me,” he utters slowly before taking my mouth in the hottest kiss I’ve ever had.
Like the blood I would willingly give to him, light seeps from my veins, and darkness takes its place. A titillating chill of wonder tears at my skin for more touches, more lust, more, more, more.
He groans when I slip my tongue inside his mouth, tasting his Mountain Dew-coated flavor. Aero plays with my venom piercing, exploring every metallic space.
When he pops out, I let out the air I’d been salvaging, feeling lightheaded and airy, decadently ravenous and parched all in one. He sets the blade down then reaches for my shirt. Aero hasn’t seen me without a shirt since that night. Which means he hasn’t seen—
“What the fuck are these?” he hisses, the pain surrounding his tone almost makes me sad.
Did he want to be there for them? Is he jealous someone has touched me so intimately? Or is it deeper—a missing moment of being able to touch every inked inch, the forever pebbled dusky nipples, losing time to experience how good all would feel against him?
“Tattoos?” I mutter lamely.
His fingers ghost the ink, driving me fucking mad with the softness he’s offering.
“Not those, dick.” He flicks my nipples and then touches the scars near my heart.
Oh, those.
“Not sure what you mean.”
He looks pointedly at me, pulling on my barbel. “Scars, Harley, the fucking scars. Where did they come from? D-Did Dad?” He stumbles on the second question. Pain and understanding settles in his expression, making me wonder what the fuck he’s talking about.
“No, not Dad,” I say, shocked.
Dad hurt him this badly? Other than a backhand or two, he never touched me. Calling me a fairy was an often occurrence, but he acted like being gay is spreadable, so he refused to show any affection or hatred by skin contact.
“Then who?” He grips my chin, and his thumb digs in a delicious way. “Tell me,” he demands.
“Me, okay!” I yell softly. He’s startled, dropping his hand immediately. “I like the pain.” It’s all I can say. It’s the only explanation I’ve got. “Sometimes when I jerk, I smoke weed and burn myself on purpose. It feels good.”
Almost understanding, he nods a few times. “I like pain too,” he answers a question I didn’t plan on asking. “Like giving it more.”
“Fuck,” I respond, liking the idea of him marking me up as he touches me. Would he fuck me? It’s something I’ve craved for almost two years. “Touch me, Aero. Please.”
The implications float through my mind. They’re there, but I’m not grasping them. No matter what we do, no matter how wrong it is, I don’t care.
All I can imagine is his skin and mine, us together, and if that’s wrong on every level, then the levels should change.
He doesn’t say anything else, just pushes my naked body backward and hovers me. Smacking my palm away from my dick, he replaces it with his own. It’s bigger, rougher, knowledgeable.
His first stroke of me has a commending sigh wheezing from us both. It’s tension-filled. The bubble of us can be severed with a knife.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Trouble.” His words are reverent, a soft caress across my heart, tattooing it with his name.
“Me too.” His next draw has me weak, nearly coming. “You’ve got to stop,” I implore breathily, losing my grip on reality with the way his touch fucks with me. “I-It’s too much.”
“This is nothing,” he promises, gripping me fiercely. “Wait until I’m deep inside you. Then you’ll feel too much and beg for so much more. When you cry and I eat your tears, you’ll still want more, and I promise I’ll never stop giving everything you need.”
My balls pulse and tense up with his words, and without him moving across my shaft again, I’m exploding against my stomach and all over his hand.
“You’ve got to stop wasting this,” he chides me, bending down. His tongue glides against my abs, licking each dip and swallowing every droplet of cum, making sure to lick my belly button slowly. “So delicious, Trouble. So fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I agree, high off the rush of Aero. He barely touches me and drives me mad, imagining purposeful brushes of his fingertips.
“My turn,” he hums, finishing his cleanup by teasing my sensitive nipples. My dick already jumps again, ready for more. Whatever he wants, I want it too.
He gets off the bed to free himself from the burden of clothing. As soon as his shirt is gone, I stiffen. I’ve always said my brother doubled me in muscles, but seeing him without a top that hides the planes and valleys of his chest and abdomen, I’m lost. His skin is bare of ink, not one drop beneath that perfect skin.
“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to be too unstable to do anything safely,” he admits, emitting a groan when I start stroking myself.
I’m solid beneath my palm again, hot and unrestrained as he starts at his jeans.
The fact that he’s not even naked and I’m salivating should feel like an issue, but it’s not. I’m enamored. I’m fucking gone for my own brother.
“We have to take it slow.” His words are too quiet, fearful even. “I’ve never done this before, Trouble. And no matter how much I’ve dreamed and craved it, I want to be safe. Savoring you—being safe—it’s important to me.”
I nod, unable to form words while my fist rotates erotically. He’s barely able to keep my gaze as his travels down my body agonizingly slowly.
The path of his light brown hair trailing his abdomen and the veins that lead to where my body wants to lick most has me sweating profusely. It’s no hotter than it was moments ago, but fuck, my body doesn’t get the memo.
His fingers hook his boxer briefs and jeans at the same time, sliding his pants down as he watches me watch him. His massive cock bobs up like an elastic band on the brink of snapping, making my mouth drop open obnoxiously wide.
It’s angry and huge. So goddamn huge. He’s as big as my favorite porn star, possibly bigger. How? My eyes widen a bit, wondering if it’ll even fit in me, especially when I see metal pierced through the head.
“A Prince Albert,” he explains, touching it and the beads of precum slicking him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it out our first time. Don’t need to permanently damage you… yet.”
My blood burns with anticipation and the utmost requirement.
He stalks me, crawling the bed with purpose and no nerves, unlike me. He’s more practiced. Even with him being with a chick, he at least knows what to do without the uncertainty of not knowing where to start.
As if noticing my nerves, he invades my space and kisses me with force and fierce strokes of his tongue. When he tongues my piercings again, surer this time, I’m humping into him.
Our flesh connects, our dicks rubbing against each other in a punishing torment, bringing us both to part with heavy breathing.
“Fuck,” he lets out, fisting himself as if to slow the beating he has to be experiencing. “Try not to stress. I can see your fear, baby brother. It’s unnecessary. None of it’s like this. None. It’s like this is my first time, too.”
His reassuring words have me closing my eyes in attempt to relax. He’s right. This is different. This is us.
Wrong.
Forbidden.
Us.
He grabs the knife he discarded earlier and brings it to my hips. The blade is turned toward him, not penetrating my skin as he slides it across the vein
s and muscles there. They ache, flexing in anticipation of the pain. They want it, his pinch of dolor, something he’s saved only for me.
“Please.”
My one-worded plea has him flipping the knife, my dick practically jumps at the first bite of metal.
The slice is as narrow as a paper cut, but it has me groaning.
His eyes flick to mine. The adoration and hunger there isn’t to be questioned. He needs this as much as I do.
His gaze goes back down to where the blade connects him to me. He slides it deeper, and the sizzle under my skin from the ruth of his ministrations has me whimpering. When I peer down, the line he traced prickles with blood. The little bubbles of near-black are absolutely beautiful.
“Harley,” he husks, his face morphed into reverence, pride. It’s almost like he’s worshiping me. “You’re killing me.”
If I didn’t know exactly how he felt in this moment, I would wonder what he means, since the only moving I’ve done has been breathing. While erratic and shuddering, it’s not enough to disrupt his tortuously slow movements.
Leaning down, cresting over his work, his tongue slicks against me.
“Aero.”
No more words escape my lips. It’s unnecessary, but I’m unnerved by each new sensation between us.
He lifts up, his lips smeared with our shared DNA. Perfect.
I draw him to me, and we connect again.
Chest to chest.
Heart to heart.
Blood to blood.
We rut together, grinding our hips, our cocks swollen and destitute as he holds the knife and himself above me. I’m entranced at the way he’s so powerful above me while staying soft and threatening in an ameliorate-blended mess.
His piercing, his cum, his everything glides against me methodically. The jerkiness from me doesn’t deter him or hinder his precise thrusts. He’s always in control, perpetually sure and perfunctory.
“I’m scared to hurt you, Trouble,” he whispers across my skin like a sin or proverb, thorny, absolute, yet truthful. “But fuck me for wanting nothing more than to hurt you and ease your pain in the same breath.”
“Hurt me, Aero. I’m yours to unleash on.”
He rises off me silently, his pouty lips still freshly smeared with my spilled blood. His retreating form should scare me, but I know he’s not leaving permanently.
When he’s coming back into view with a bottle of lube, I sit up straighter. Everything I’ve begged for comes to fruition as he fluidly saunters to me.
His face is heated, and his teeth are slightly bared. He’s coming apart like me. In this moment, it doesn’t matter that we’re brothers, that our mom is twenty feet away, or that the illegality of what we share is very real.
The only thing that exists is him and me.
Harley and his Aero.
The dark demon himself and his troubled angel.
Two brothers.
Two souls.
A bond everlasting.
“Spread your thighs for me, Harley. This is going to be messy.”
Chapter Six
Aero
He’s inarguably the most beautiful human I’ve laid eyes on.
Our familial connection doesn’t defer those feelings or marginalize them. It almost separates, reforms, and subsidizes them into something new, unbreakable, sacred.
As soon as I uttered the command, his thighs separated sublimely, spreading him open to me entirely.
With the lube bottle in one hand and his knife in the other, I find myself between his thighs again. As I lick the soft flesh of his inner legs, he croons for me, and I suck, leaving every possible proof that this isn’t a maddening dream, and we’re finally together. No matter how long, no matter how little, just us.
He bows his hips when my tongue trails to his sac. Pulling and tugging with my teeth a moment later, he has to bite his pillow to silence the noises escaping him.
I trail the blade across his balls, making sure not to slice deep, needing the raised skin but not the rush of blood. It’s beautiful, the way it peaks, reddens, and elevates as if it’s acknowledging my work.
The silver glints over the underside of his shaft that weeps at the tip for me. His parted thighs flex when I nick his head.
He cries out softly as I kiss the mark, taking every prick of blood. It’s taunting me, slicing him this way, marking him permanently in reverence for only us. Because in this moment, Harley Austin is entirely mine. Not the world’s, not our parents. Fucking mine.
I take him deep in my mouth, salivating over his taste, coming undone at his splendor. When I pop off, his eyes are shut. He’s sedated, and soon, with the medicine only my brother can offer me, I will be too.
“What do you want, Harley?”
It isn’t something I care to ask anyone, but this is special. Our first time. Possibly the only shared moment we’ll ever have, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want to make it perfect.
“You. I want you inside me, Aero.”
I growl as his admission leaves his lips. The words brand my soul, changing me forever. Dropping the knife on the nightstand next to the bed, I lower myself to his throat.
“Want you so badly, Trouble, the taste of you, your blood, my fucking brand across every single each. Need that,” I barely hiss as his skin becomes my canvas.
Teeth, tongue, lips, they press against him as he writhes. I lick every inch, making sure my markings paint his skin.
“Shit,” he groans deeply, rocking against me, requiring friction.
I drag my palms down his body as snake my way between his legs. He shakes while I make purchase between his cheeks with my tongue. I dip, rimming him slow and surely, knowing he’ll either love or hate this.
With how he shudders and moans loudly, I’m sure it’s a positive response. Lifting his thighs over my shoulders, I draw him closer, dividing his cheeks and eating the feast he’s offered.
“Aero, Aero, Aero,” he praises throatily, grinding against me.
I grab the lube. Earlier, when collecting it from my drawer, I removed my piercing. I’ve done research after getting it pierced, in hopes of this moment. It can hurt really fucking bad to a bottom, especially if they’re not used to taking.
My baby brother hasn’t fucked anyone, and unlike Uly, I’m going to worship him from top to bottom and make sure it’s the only thing he’ll ever think about. If I’m going to take his body, it’ll be the only body I’ll please, the only one I’ll keep, secure, and love.
That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? Loving every part of my flesh and blood, reveling in its purity, succumbing to the demon inside me, begging for its fill.
Lubricating my fingers, I reach for his exposed asshole, rubbing my thumb against it. His chest rises and falls more, making him vocalize his pleasure louder.
“Quiet, Trouble. Can’t have mommy dearest hearing her eldest son fucking her baby to completion, now, can we?”
Sweat lines his face as he shakes his head.
“Think she’d beat me if she saw me eating your ass? What about these fingers pressing that little button of yours?” I tease and press a single digit in, watching his eyes roll backward as his eyelashes flutter. “Think she’d be pissed that I’m about to take your virginity and make you mine? Fuck my little brother like he’s mine to fuck?”
I groan against his balls as I grind into the bed. My cock throbs with temptation. The sudden urge to slam into him, fuck him with abandon, and drink his blood as I thrust into him it rushes me, poking me like a cattle prod.
“Do it,” he commands on a whispery hiss. He presses down on my finger, fucking himself as I barely hold onto the desperation firing my body from top to bottom. He stares at me, the plea there, the same desperation mirrored in his eyes.
I rise, stroking lube on my cock, tingling all the way to my toes with how much I need this. How much we both do. It started as a kiss, a fucking simple kiss. Guess the truth in that lie. It was never simple.
It was our undoing.
Slathering more lube on his ass and some on his stiffened rod, I bring our bodies together.
“Just do it, Aero. Fuck—”
I shove inside him. He yelps as I wheeze in relief. Then he’s wiggling beneath me, a crazed expression on his face. His body cants off the bed as I grind, rotating, making sure the pinch of pain from adjustment leaves him before I claim every whimper from him.
“H-How’s your ass?” I mumble, suddenly nervous.
“It’d be better if you fucked me like you promised. Scared, brother?” he taunts me then bites his lip harshly.
It unravels me, seeing him angry from delayed gratification. I lean down and take his mouth, pulling almost all the way out just to ram back home, securing my way between his cheeks where I belong.
“Like this, Trouble?” Repeating the action several times, I mock his words. “Need my cock to fill you with seed? We both know your ass is mine now. No one will ever sink inside you again.”
The idea of someone touching my Trouble has a rage building in me. My speed picks up at the imagery.
“I’ll kill anyone.” The words bleed from me harshly. “Any motherfucker who dares touch what’s mine, I’ll slice him open and watch the blood leak from his body.”
I rut and rut and rut as he moans louder and louder and louder. We’re a mess of thrusts, sweat, and blood. He reaches for the knife and brings it to my chest. I stop to watch him. The tip digs into me, bringing a sweet hiss of pleasure-pain I never knew I wanted. It kisses me like a long-lost lover as he slides it across my chest. It’s purposeful, each glide of silver against my skin. The wet life seeps from each strike. It tingles and burns, sliding down my chest in a promise.
“Mine,” he barks, his voice throaty, commanding, and hot as fuck. “Mine, Aero. Fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I confirm.
He takes the knife, crimson coating the blade, brings it to his mouth, and licks it while keeping his gaze connected with mine. It’s such a heady look, biding us together. After its clean of our shared blood, he sets it down and bares down on me.
“Now fuck me like you fake-fucked Serenity earlier,” he grunts harshly. “And if I ever see you fuck her again, I’ll carve your heart out and eat it.”
