Declan relaxes back against Ronan's pillows, propping himself up so he won't miss anything. His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to breathe evenly as Ronan sinks down between his thighs. Declan tries to remember how it felt the first time he did this with someone, how nervous and utterly out of his depth he'd been.
Ronan's tentative, careful handling feels good, and he's about to answer when his brother just goes for it.
"Oh, fuck," he echoes as Ronan's tongue teases over him. He realizes then that Ronan will be able to taste the evidence of their dream and he swears his cock pulses at the thought. Declan keeps his eyes open, watching his brother take his time.
Then the slick head slips past Ronan's lips and Declan can't help the quiet moan that escapes him. He pushes his fingers into Ronan's hair, not to guide him but just to hold.
"That's good," he breathes, realizing he should probably try to say something, anything, to reassure Ronan.
Ronan withdraws, giving the head a light suck before pulling off of it with a smack of his lips. It's silly, but he's always wanted to do that. It's as satisfying as he thought it would be, like plump fruit against his mouth.
He's still exploring, leisurely indulging his curiosity now that he can. When he was younger, he spent an unholy amount of time wondering what his brother's cock would feel like. And even though he's just begun, he's enjoying it more than he ever thought he would. More than any dream.
His journey moves lower. Fingers carefully directing the angle, Ronan's lips travel down the underside of the shaft, his tongue slipping out to lave a sloppy line all the way to the base. He nuzzles gently against Declan's sac, then licks his way back to the head.
The sound is beautifully obscene and Declan's fingers tighten briefly in Ronan's hair. He tries to keep his breathing even, as if making too much noise will somehow interrupt Ronan's slow exploration. He's dreamed of filling his brother's mouth more than he cares to admit, especially after some of their more contentious arguments.
He's momentarily entranced by the way Ronan's hand holds him, the play of his fingers as his mouth slides lower. He can feel Ronan's breath just before he nuzzles in and Declan lifts his hips to get closer; his breath catches as his cock slides against Ronan's cheek. By the time Ronan's mouth reaches the head again there's precome drooling from the tip.
"Fuck, Ronan." He swallows thickly and shifts his hips as his fingers tense against the back of his brother's head. Declan tries not to push him - this is happening at Ronan's pace or not at all, he tells himself. "That's it," he encourages.
Ronan's grateful for the feedback, though. Verbal and nonverbal. He notices every time something he does makes Declan push closer to him or grasp at him. He notices how Declan's cock just keeps getting harder, straining for more. And when he returns to find that bead of precome, he hums with satisfaction before pinching his lips around the head of Declan's cock and lapping it up.
He draws back to cast another glance at his brother's face. He doesn't need to look in order to tell that Declan's enjoying this, but it makes it feel better to see it. He wants this to be something Declan asks him to do for him every day.
He is so wicked. God, he hopes this won't be the end of them.
"You taste just like the dream," Ronan murmurs. It must mean the seed that's still inside him is truly Declan's, not some approximation. The thought makes him dizzy.
Dipping back down, he takes the whole of Declan's cockhead into his mouth and then some, trying to figure out how much he can stuff into it while avoiding the scrape of teeth. Not much, with the first attempt, but when he adjusts his angle, he adds another inch.
What would it be like to tend each other every day? To seek an offer that relief and release and intimacy? Declan can see it, easily, and he prays it won't ruin them if it goes beyond this. The thought disappears as Ronan mentions his taste and it reminds him that his brother still has his seed inside him and smeared between his thighs.
If Declan tries to clean him as he did in the dream, how long will they be tangled in bed together? The possibility is beyond tempting.
"So do you," he confesses. Maybe Ronan couldn't come in the dream, but Declan could still taste him. "Oh--"
Declan nearly chokes on his next breath as the slick, soft heat of Ronan's mouth closes around him and sinks down, and down. He's delirious with the memory of how it felt to fuck his mouth and the delicious newness of feeling Ronan's careful ministrations now. He keeps one hand on the back of Ronan's neck while the other strokes down his shoulder, over his arm. Declan's fingers brush tenderly over Ronan's hand when he finds it.
He keeps his eyes open, thinking that watching might help him avoid losing control and doing something that might hurt or startle Ronan.
Since he only really needs one hand to tend to Declan, when he feels those fingers brush against him, he lets go so that he can entwine them with his own. Maybe it's stupid, but as with any new experience his brother has ever guided him through, it's a comfort to hold Declan's hand through this.
As if reminded to get to work, the other hand begins to slowly stroke Declan. It's hardly any movement, because he's afraid that he'll mess up if he jostles around too much, but even a little is better than none. And once he has that pace set, he bobs his head along with it. His mouth slides down, then retreats, then pushes a little further, again and again.
It's probably not the best Declan's had. Even Ronan can tell that he's not going fast enough, that he's not applying enough friction. A plush, wet massage is about as good as he can offer while he's preoccupied with avoiding wrong moves. Overly soft is undoubtedly better than choking or biting. He offers his tongue as compensation, ceaselessly coaxing Declan with it, sloppy and slurping.
It's not the best but it's good and the enthusiasm more than makes up for Ronan's lack of experience. As soon as Ronan manages to get a little rhythm going between his hand and his mouth, Declan doesn't even care about the speed. It's Ronan's tongue that's driving him up the wall: he's pretty sure that's spit he can feel running down his cock along with precome.
Declan gets caught up and loses himself for just a few seconds. As Ronan bobs back, Declan's hips jump and his hands hold Ronan tight before he recovers himself. "Fuck," he gasps out. "Sorry, sorry."
His hand leaves Ronan's hair to stroke his cheek in apology. And then a new wickedness spills from his mouth.
Though it's unexpected, Ronan doesn't suffer too badly when Declan suddenly bucks up. An alarmed cry starts to rise out of him, but it's stifled when Declan's cock hits the back of his throat. He just manages to pull back before he chokes on it, catching his breath as soon as Declan's hold on him loosens enough for him to break free.
"Jesus," he hisses, but he seems more embarrassed than angry about it. Someone more experienced would undoubtedly have known how to handle that, which makes the offer of help a welcome one. Face red and lips glazed, he turns his eyes up to his brother again. "Yeah, do it."
Declan has the decency to look momentarily contrite after Ronan's small ordeal. He tries not to think of how it felt to slide against the back of Ronan's throat or how good he looks all flushed like that.
"Here." His voice is quiet as he guides Ronan's arm so that his brother's elbow is against his hip. "Lean your weight in, promise I can take it." It might not stop Declan altogether if he gets caught up, but at least Ronan will feel it coming. "Move your hand a little higher. And I'll uhm... try not to do that again."
He lets his fingers brush back through Ronan's hair; his other hand remains tangled with his brother's. He won't let go until Ronan wants him to.
"Try again. Nice and easy."
And he'll try to ignore how much he's aching to come.
Ronan repositions himself more or less the way Declan suggests, drawing closer and pinning down his hip. It's strange to think of Declan losing control in any situation. He's ordinarily so contained, so painfully in command of his expression. It seems impossible that Ronan could have ever unraveled him the way he's done this morning. He doesn't understand this reality that requires him to push back against the urgent thrusting of his brother's hips, to stop Declan from violently claiming his mouth.
"It's okay if you wanna move a little," Ronan tells him. "Or if it's easier for you to..." He can't bring himself to say the words facefuck me just yet, but Declan undoubtedly understands. He already has his hand on Ronan's head, like he means to direct it if necessary.
Leaving that thought in the air, he takes the head of Declan's cock into his mouth again. His tongue swirls around it - once, twice - then drags down as he sinks lower, taking his brother deeper. His hand resumes its stroking from a better angle, working Declan with a lazy twist, the mess of his saliva slicking the way.
Ronan doesn't have to finish the sentence for Declan to imagine it. It would be easier, but can he bring himself to use Ronan like that the first time? His cock throbs at the thought.
Declan head drops back as Ronan's mouth closes around him and his hand twists just so. Even if Ronan is new at this, he's catching on quick. It doesn't take him long to learn the rhythm Ronan's falling into; the next time his brother's head bobs down, Declan gives just a small roll of his hips.
"Fuck, Ronan," he sighs, voice full of breathless praise as his fingers stroke over Ronan's scalp. Amateur effort or not, he isn't going to last like this. Watching his cock disappear past Ronan's lips, feeling the soft heat of his cheeks and the slick slide of his hand--it's all conspiring against Declan's will to draw this out.
"You're uhm--you're gonna have decide if you want it in you or on you."
It hadn't occurred to Ronan that this was even a decision to make. Or, rather, that he'd made his decision the moment he bowed down and took Declan into his mouth. He wouldn't be doing this if he didn't want it inside him.
And besides, it's... already inside him.
His answer is merely a soft hum of assent. The approval in his brother's voice and the encouraging brush of his fingers tells him that their intentions are shared. Declan wants to quench him, and Ronan wants to drink him down.
He doesn't want his brother's seed to simply shoot down his throat, either. He wants to hold it in his mouth and taste it. So he withdraws to keep his attentions shallow, hand working the shaft while he tends to the head. He suckles gently and circles it with his tongue and pumps it with the ring of his lips, urging Declan to give in.
The affirmative hum earns another soft, urgent sound from Declan. Ronan won't pull away long enough to answer and it makes Declan's fingers grip tighter: he squeezes Ronan's hand, pulls his hair.
He lifts his head so that he can watch, staring with lips parted as Ronan backs off to lavish attention on just the head. Jesus. The enthusiasm doesn't wane and he realizes very quickly that Ronan doesn't just want to swallow, he wants to taste.
"Oh, God--fuck--"
It's somewhere between a plea and praise and delirious pleasure. Declan moves his hips in small, shallow little thrusts, chasing the friction of Ronan's hand but careful not to get too rough - he doesn't want to go any deeper than Ronan has him now.
"Ronan." He gasps his brother's name as he hits his peak. Declan goes tense and he moans sharply as he spills over Ronan's tongue. A delicious shiver shoots through him and it takes everything he has to stay focused. He doesn't want to miss a second.
Thick bursts of heat spray onto Ronan's tongue. His mouth fills with his brother's come so much more quickly than he anticipated, some of it spilling past his lips before he can swallow it down. His tongue flicks over the head of Declan's cock in a sloppy attempt to catch the mess and swipe it back into his mouth. Ravenous and greedy, he doesn't stop lapping and sucking until he's drunk every last drop.
Then it's over. He draws back slowly, pressing his palm over his swollen wet lips, and he's left to confront this new reality he occupies. Simultaneously, he savors the aftertaste and feels his stomach turn. Just inches from his mouth, his brother begins to soften in the wake of the climax Ronan brought him to.
He lets go of Declan's hand so that he can sit up properly, still wiping at his face. "Did I do okay?" he asks, his voice muffled into his palm.
His breath is heavy and quick as he watches Ronan demand everything he can get with each suck and flick of his tongue, every little bob of his head, until Declan is sure he has nothing left to give. Ronan's desire for it makes him feel lightheaded, his greed in swallowing him down and seeking more.
For a moment, all Declan can do is breathe. He watches Ronan pull back and wipe his mouth once, then again. Declan is still thoroughly distracted by his brother's soft, slick mouth.
"Did you--" He almost laughs, but instead of saying anything more, Declan leans forward. His hands cradle Ronan's head and he holds his brother still for a kiss. His tongue pushes into Ronan's mouth to taste himself there and he swears his body makes a valiant effort back toward arousal.
"Yeah," he murmurs as he pulls back. His thumbs stroke over Ronan's cheeks. "Yeah you were good."
The shock of his brother's kiss stuns him nearly as much as the load Declan just shot into his mouth. The intimacy of it is so wrong that his heart stops with the fear that divine punishment is about to strike him down.
But with those hands caressing and coaxing him, Ronan relaxes into it and accepts it. He allows his brother to taste as much as he likes. It doesn't count, after all. Declan has kissed him before. Just not this deeply. And who decided where that line should be drawn? Not God. His brother isn't doing anything other than showing Ronan his love.
When the kiss breaks, Ronan looks at him with fresh eyes. "Don't fucking lie," he mumbles, but it's with an embarrassed sort of humor. "I'll get better. I just need practice."
He huffs a breathless laugh. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you some notes." Ronan wants to practice. God hasn't smote them yet, but Declan feels like he's tempting fate as he lets himself imagine that. Will this scene reverse itself? Will he find himself waking up one morning with Ronan's mouth on him, intent on getting better?
Declan kisses Ronan again, then finally lets him go. He wants to drag his brother close, he wants to roll the both of them over and go back to sleep. He wants to sit here and talk about the day coming up, like they always do. The only difference now is they've tasted each other.
They're brothers. They love each other, they take care of each other. That's all.
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Ronan's tentative, careful handling feels good, and he's about to answer when his brother just goes for it.
"Oh, fuck," he echoes as Ronan's tongue teases over him. He realizes then that Ronan will be able to taste the evidence of their dream and he swears his cock pulses at the thought. Declan keeps his eyes open, watching his brother take his time.
Then the slick head slips past Ronan's lips and Declan can't help the quiet moan that escapes him. He pushes his fingers into Ronan's hair, not to guide him but just to hold.
"That's good," he breathes, realizing he should probably try to say something, anything, to reassure Ronan.
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Ronan withdraws, giving the head a light suck before pulling off of it with a smack of his lips. It's silly, but he's always wanted to do that. It's as satisfying as he thought it would be, like plump fruit against his mouth.
He's still exploring, leisurely indulging his curiosity now that he can. When he was younger, he spent an unholy amount of time wondering what his brother's cock would feel like. And even though he's just begun, he's enjoying it more than he ever thought he would. More than any dream.
His journey moves lower. Fingers carefully directing the angle, Ronan's lips travel down the underside of the shaft, his tongue slipping out to lave a sloppy line all the way to the base. He nuzzles gently against Declan's sac, then licks his way back to the head.
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He's momentarily entranced by the way Ronan's hand holds him, the play of his fingers as his mouth slides lower. He can feel Ronan's breath just before he nuzzles in and Declan lifts his hips to get closer; his breath catches as his cock slides against Ronan's cheek. By the time Ronan's mouth reaches the head again there's precome drooling from the tip.
"Fuck, Ronan." He swallows thickly and shifts his hips as his fingers tense against the back of his brother's head. Declan tries not to push him - this is happening at Ronan's pace or not at all, he tells himself. "That's it," he encourages.
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He draws back to cast another glance at his brother's face. He doesn't need to look in order to tell that Declan's enjoying this, but it makes it feel better to see it. He wants this to be something Declan asks him to do for him every day.
He is so wicked. God, he hopes this won't be the end of them.
"You taste just like the dream," Ronan murmurs. It must mean the seed that's still inside him is truly Declan's, not some approximation. The thought makes him dizzy.
Dipping back down, he takes the whole of Declan's cockhead into his mouth and then some, trying to figure out how much he can stuff into it while avoiding the scrape of teeth. Not much, with the first attempt, but when he adjusts his angle, he adds another inch.
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If Declan tries to clean him as he did in the dream, how long will they be tangled in bed together? The possibility is beyond tempting.
"So do you," he confesses. Maybe Ronan couldn't come in the dream, but Declan could still taste him. "Oh--"
Declan nearly chokes on his next breath as the slick, soft heat of Ronan's mouth closes around him and sinks down, and down. He's delirious with the memory of how it felt to fuck his mouth and the delicious newness of feeling Ronan's careful ministrations now. He keeps one hand on the back of Ronan's neck while the other strokes down his shoulder, over his arm. Declan's fingers brush tenderly over Ronan's hand when he finds it.
He keeps his eyes open, thinking that watching might help him avoid losing control and doing something that might hurt or startle Ronan.
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As if reminded to get to work, the other hand begins to slowly stroke Declan. It's hardly any movement, because he's afraid that he'll mess up if he jostles around too much, but even a little is better than none. And once he has that pace set, he bobs his head along with it. His mouth slides down, then retreats, then pushes a little further, again and again.
It's probably not the best Declan's had. Even Ronan can tell that he's not going fast enough, that he's not applying enough friction. A plush, wet massage is about as good as he can offer while he's preoccupied with avoiding wrong moves. Overly soft is undoubtedly better than choking or biting. He offers his tongue as compensation, ceaselessly coaxing Declan with it, sloppy and slurping.
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Declan gets caught up and loses himself for just a few seconds. As Ronan bobs back, Declan's hips jump and his hands hold Ronan tight before he recovers himself. "Fuck," he gasps out. "Sorry, sorry."
His hand leaves Ronan's hair to stroke his cheek in apology. And then a new wickedness spills from his mouth.
"Want me to help?"
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"Jesus," he hisses, but he seems more embarrassed than angry about it. Someone more experienced would undoubtedly have known how to handle that, which makes the offer of help a welcome one. Face red and lips glazed, he turns his eyes up to his brother again. "Yeah, do it."
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"Here." His voice is quiet as he guides Ronan's arm so that his brother's elbow is against his hip. "Lean your weight in, promise I can take it." It might not stop Declan altogether if he gets caught up, but at least Ronan will feel it coming. "Move your hand a little higher. And I'll uhm... try not to do that again."
He lets his fingers brush back through Ronan's hair; his other hand remains tangled with his brother's. He won't let go until Ronan wants him to.
"Try again. Nice and easy."
And he'll try to ignore how much he's aching to come.
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"It's okay if you wanna move a little," Ronan tells him. "Or if it's easier for you to..." He can't bring himself to say the words facefuck me just yet, but Declan undoubtedly understands. He already has his hand on Ronan's head, like he means to direct it if necessary.
Leaving that thought in the air, he takes the head of Declan's cock into his mouth again. His tongue swirls around it - once, twice - then drags down as he sinks lower, taking his brother deeper. His hand resumes its stroking from a better angle, working Declan with a lazy twist, the mess of his saliva slicking the way.
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Declan head drops back as Ronan's mouth closes around him and his hand twists just so. Even if Ronan is new at this, he's catching on quick. It doesn't take him long to learn the rhythm Ronan's falling into; the next time his brother's head bobs down, Declan gives just a small roll of his hips.
"Fuck, Ronan," he sighs, voice full of breathless praise as his fingers stroke over Ronan's scalp. Amateur effort or not, he isn't going to last like this. Watching his cock disappear past Ronan's lips, feeling the soft heat of his cheeks and the slick slide of his hand--it's all conspiring against Declan's will to draw this out.
"You're uhm--you're gonna have decide if you want it in you or on you."
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And besides, it's... already inside him.
His answer is merely a soft hum of assent. The approval in his brother's voice and the encouraging brush of his fingers tells him that their intentions are shared. Declan wants to quench him, and Ronan wants to drink him down.
He doesn't want his brother's seed to simply shoot down his throat, either. He wants to hold it in his mouth and taste it. So he withdraws to keep his attentions shallow, hand working the shaft while he tends to the head. He suckles gently and circles it with his tongue and pumps it with the ring of his lips, urging Declan to give in.
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He lifts his head so that he can watch, staring with lips parted as Ronan backs off to lavish attention on just the head. Jesus. The enthusiasm doesn't wane and he realizes very quickly that Ronan doesn't just want to swallow, he wants to taste.
"Oh, God--fuck--"
It's somewhere between a plea and praise and delirious pleasure. Declan moves his hips in small, shallow little thrusts, chasing the friction of Ronan's hand but careful not to get too rough - he doesn't want to go any deeper than Ronan has him now.
"Ronan." He gasps his brother's name as he hits his peak. Declan goes tense and he moans sharply as he spills over Ronan's tongue. A delicious shiver shoots through him and it takes everything he has to stay focused. He doesn't want to miss a second.
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Thick bursts of heat spray onto Ronan's tongue. His mouth fills with his brother's come so much more quickly than he anticipated, some of it spilling past his lips before he can swallow it down. His tongue flicks over the head of Declan's cock in a sloppy attempt to catch the mess and swipe it back into his mouth. Ravenous and greedy, he doesn't stop lapping and sucking until he's drunk every last drop.
Then it's over. He draws back slowly, pressing his palm over his swollen wet lips, and he's left to confront this new reality he occupies. Simultaneously, he savors the aftertaste and feels his stomach turn. Just inches from his mouth, his brother begins to soften in the wake of the climax Ronan brought him to.
He lets go of Declan's hand so that he can sit up properly, still wiping at his face. "Did I do okay?" he asks, his voice muffled into his palm.
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For a moment, all Declan can do is breathe. He watches Ronan pull back and wipe his mouth once, then again. Declan is still thoroughly distracted by his brother's soft, slick mouth.
"Did you--" He almost laughs, but instead of saying anything more, Declan leans forward. His hands cradle Ronan's head and he holds his brother still for a kiss. His tongue pushes into Ronan's mouth to taste himself there and he swears his body makes a valiant effort back toward arousal.
"Yeah," he murmurs as he pulls back. His thumbs stroke over Ronan's cheeks. "Yeah you were good."
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But with those hands caressing and coaxing him, Ronan relaxes into it and accepts it. He allows his brother to taste as much as he likes. It doesn't count, after all. Declan has kissed him before. Just not this deeply. And who decided where that line should be drawn? Not God. His brother isn't doing anything other than showing Ronan his love.
When the kiss breaks, Ronan looks at him with fresh eyes. "Don't fucking lie," he mumbles, but it's with an embarrassed sort of humor. "I'll get better. I just need practice."
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Declan kisses Ronan again, then finally lets him go. He wants to drag his brother close, he wants to roll the both of them over and go back to sleep. He wants to sit here and talk about the day coming up, like they always do. The only difference now is they've tasted each other.
They're brothers. They love each other, they take care of each other. That's all.