He'd know Ronan anywhere: the shape of him, the scent, the feel of his hands. Declan knows almost every part of his brother and would recognize him no matter what.
Warm lips drift across his bare skin, the touch light enough to be a secret. Arousal stirs as Ronan's breath teases over his stomach; his breath catches as the sheets slide away in a whisper. Declan doesn't move, not yet, even as his fingers ache to touch Ronan's hair. Where is his brother going? And what will he do when he gets there?
It's no real surprise when he finds Declan already stirring to arousal. Ronan exhales a scoff, apparently disappointed to have been discovered so soon, but that doesn't stop him. His lips brush over Declan's swiftly hardening shaft, and he parts them when he reaches the head, only to close them again over the very tip. A soft little taste. A tease.
Ronan reaches between his legs, taking his own cock in hand to give it a couple of strokes for relief. He was hard before he got here, and now that he's indulging, he's unbearably turned on. His left hand, in the meantime, steadies Declan's cock at the base so that his tongue can run slick circles around the head.
"Fuck," he sighs, giving up the game entirely when Ronan's mouth teases over his cock. The slick tease over the head and the familiar feel of Ronan's hand sliding along the shaft to steady him as that mouth gets to work.
Declan lets his hands move, one pushing into Ronan's hair to hold it back: he doesn't want to miss this sight. Looking just makes his cock throb against Ronan's hand as his brother's slick lips close around the head. Declan manages to stay still, at least, keeping himself from chasing the perfect heat of Ronan's mouth.
He doesn't say anything, doesn't think he needs to. Ronan is here. He's vaguely aware that Ronan is touching himself and Declan feels his mouth water at the thought of it.
Something about the drag of Declan's fingers through his hair encourages Ronan, and he dips a bit lower to slip the whole head of his brother's cock into his mouth. He cradles it there, his tongue dutifully massaging it as Declan pulses thicker and thicker between his lips.
But this is just the beginning. A prelude. After a few moments, he draws back and lets Declan slip out of his mouth.
"Desperate much?" he purrs disdainfully.
Now that there's no pretending he's asleep, Ronan moves less carefully. He draws up until his long body is draped right alongside Declan's, his erection now squeezed against his brother's hip. His hands find Declan's face in the dark, seizing him for a kiss.
"Fuck you," he answers. Then Ronan is on him, kissing him, and Declan pushes into it. Is he desperate? Ashley's been particularly unsatisfying, all the more reason to end the relationship. There's only so long he can handle mediocre sex in a mediocre life.
But now Ronan's cock is pressed against his hip, firm and hot, and Declan reaches down to wrap his hand around it. His thumb slides over the head and he doesn't stroke yet, just kind of holds him and offers more friction than his hip as his tongue meets Ronan's. There's teeth, too: he catches Ronan's bottom lip just to feel the fullness of it between his own.
He doesn't need the light to intimately know every angle of his brother's body. After a moment of just tasting him, Declan's hand finally moves in slow, deliberate strokes.
Ronan answers the touch with a low moan that vibrates around Declan's tongue. As if by reflex, his arms loop around Declan's shoulders, locking them together.
He may have moved confidently earlier, sneaking around in the dark, but this is more familiar: his older brother tending to him while he does nothing other than jerk his hips in clumsy need. This was all they had for years, although Ronan can't distinguish now whether that happened in the waking world or in dreams, and if it was the latter, whose fantasy it was.
"I'm gonna come soon," he warns. Declan's touch is soft, but Ronan is hard as marble, and even these slow strokes coax dewy pre-come out of him. "I've been thinking about this since I saw you earlier. Asshole. I feel like I could shoot ten loads, my balls hurt so much."
"Jesus, your mouth," he sighs as Ronan jerks closer. Declan slides his palm over the slick head and strokes down. "I've always wanted to see how much you could come. Or should I see how long you can wait?"
Declan slows down, stops, and just holds Ronan's cock as he kisses him again. There's always been a thin, blurry line between dreams and reality in their household and maybe this is no different. He gives Ronan a squeeze and licks into his mouth.
He hadn't meant for Declan to actually slow down, and Ronan's cock throbs in protest to the abrupt stop. His hips push a small thrust into Declan's palm, though he doesn't insist any further. It's Declan's right to withhold, just as it's his right to take what he wants.
"I'm always thinking about you."
What a stupid question. His cock throbs again, aching, as if in confirmation. Would he be in this state otherwise?
"You jerked off when you got home, didn't you?" That's how Declan can be so measured about this. "I saw you getting hard when I was messing with you."
I'm always thinking about you. Declan feels himself throb at the confession and he holds back a quiet groan. He squeezes Ronan like a reward, but doesn't offer much more.
"Yeah, I did." Alone, in the shower, thinking of Ronan and thinking that if anything is sending him to Hell, it's this. He loves the little push of Ronan's hip, the quiet desperation as he seeks more now that Declan has threatened to cut him off.
"Didn't you?" He wants to know. He pushes Ronan onto his back and moves down his body until his thick cock is front and center. He runs his tongue up the length, hand still cradling it as his lips close around the head, just for a second. He doesn't want to set Ronan off just yet.
Ronan melts into position, lying back against the mattress like he knows exactly how his brother wants to see him draped, and his body sinks fluidly in accordance. The reward of Declan's mouth around his cock temporarily numbs all thought. His fingers curl into the sheets and his spine arcs as he resists the need to push deeper.
"No," he gasps in answers. "You know I don't do that."
Masturbate. If he can help it. One of them still believes in God, and he does try to be good, in spite of his nature. Anyway, even if he'd indulged, he'd be in just as much peril as he is now. This is Declan's will, to be desired like this.
Masturbating is the least of his sins now and Declan no longer sees the point in refraining. His tongue laps over Ronan's cock again, tempting him to move. Declan finally offers some mercy and bobs his head lower, taking about half of Ronan's length. His senses are absolutely flooded, from the familiar weight and taste of Ronan on his tongue to the scent of his skin to the sound of his breathing above his head. Declan could lose himself here. Has lost himself here.
He slides his mouth back and lets Ronan pop free as his hand takes over again. The flat of his tongue rubs past the head, tasting his precome like he can't quite get enough. Declan looks up along Ronan's body, appreciating the lines and curves of him.
"Do you want to fuck or get fucked, Ronan?" The answer doesn't really matter. Declan just wants to hear his voice again.
Shivering with the effort of holding back, the only release Ronan allows himself is a shuddering moan as the heat of Declan's mouth surrounds more and more of him. If he'd lingered a single second longer, Ronan would have spilled over.
Want. What does he want. What a strange concept.
"Both," Ronan whispers, catching Declan's gaze again as it slides over him. He can feel everything his brother is thinking about doing to him, and there is no wrong answer. "I'm not gonna last. Let me come inside you."
Ronan's voice sends chills racing down his back and across his nerves. Maybe it's cruel to tease him, but hearing Ronan moan like that makes it all worth it.
Declan lifts his head and abandons Ronan's cock again, but not for long. His hand is slick with lube when he touches Ronan again and he watches his brother's face as he gives him a few quick strokes. It's a dream and Declan doesn't bother to ready himself before he straddles Ronan's hips.
Although Ronan won't come a second sooner than Declan wants him to, the struggle feels as sharp and desperate as it would in the waking world. Declan's touch burns as he prepares Ronan for the taking, need sparking through his nerves, leaving him shivering in anticipation.
And then, finally, Declan is on him. Sinking down onto his cock, surrounding him. Ronan hisses and sucks in a breath between his teeth as that tight heat drags down and down until it swallows him up completely.
What he's got is precisely what Declan always imagines. What he's caught in glimpses. Ronan is a perfectly manufactured fantasy, so beautiful he tempts even his own brother to take him, and his cock is no exception. It throbs thick inside Declan, a toy to be thoroughly enjoyed as it's ridden. And in the meantime, Ronan suffers, trembling with the need for release but forbidden until he's given that unconscious permission.
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Warm lips drift across his bare skin, the touch light enough to be a secret. Arousal stirs as Ronan's breath teases over his stomach; his breath catches as the sheets slide away in a whisper. Declan doesn't move, not yet, even as his fingers ache to touch Ronan's hair. Where is his brother going? And what will he do when he gets there?
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Ronan reaches between his legs, taking his own cock in hand to give it a couple of strokes for relief. He was hard before he got here, and now that he's indulging, he's unbearably turned on. His left hand, in the meantime, steadies Declan's cock at the base so that his tongue can run slick circles around the head.
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Declan lets his hands move, one pushing into Ronan's hair to hold it back: he doesn't want to miss this sight. Looking just makes his cock throb against Ronan's hand as his brother's slick lips close around the head. Declan manages to stay still, at least, keeping himself from chasing the perfect heat of Ronan's mouth.
He doesn't say anything, doesn't think he needs to. Ronan is here. He's vaguely aware that Ronan is touching himself and Declan feels his mouth water at the thought of it.
"Ronan."
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But this is just the beginning. A prelude. After a few moments, he draws back and lets Declan slip out of his mouth.
"Desperate much?" he purrs disdainfully.
Now that there's no pretending he's asleep, Ronan moves less carefully. He draws up until his long body is draped right alongside Declan's, his erection now squeezed against his brother's hip. His hands find Declan's face in the dark, seizing him for a kiss.
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But now Ronan's cock is pressed against his hip, firm and hot, and Declan reaches down to wrap his hand around it. His thumb slides over the head and he doesn't stroke yet, just kind of holds him and offers more friction than his hip as his tongue meets Ronan's. There's teeth, too: he catches Ronan's bottom lip just to feel the fullness of it between his own.
He doesn't need the light to intimately know every angle of his brother's body. After a moment of just tasting him, Declan's hand finally moves in slow, deliberate strokes.
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He may have moved confidently earlier, sneaking around in the dark, but this is more familiar: his older brother tending to him while he does nothing other than jerk his hips in clumsy need. This was all they had for years, although Ronan can't distinguish now whether that happened in the waking world or in dreams, and if it was the latter, whose fantasy it was.
"I'm gonna come soon," he warns. Declan's touch is soft, but Ronan is hard as marble, and even these slow strokes coax dewy pre-come out of him. "I've been thinking about this since I saw you earlier. Asshole. I feel like I could shoot ten loads, my balls hurt so much."
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Declan slows down, stops, and just holds Ronan's cock as he kisses him again. There's always been a thin, blurry line between dreams and reality in their household and maybe this is no different. He gives Ronan a squeeze and licks into his mouth.
"You been thinking about me?"
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"I'm always thinking about you."
What a stupid question. His cock throbs again, aching, as if in confirmation. Would he be in this state otherwise?
"You jerked off when you got home, didn't you?" That's how Declan can be so measured about this. "I saw you getting hard when I was messing with you."
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"Yeah, I did." Alone, in the shower, thinking of Ronan and thinking that if anything is sending him to Hell, it's this. He loves the little push of Ronan's hip, the quiet desperation as he seeks more now that Declan has threatened to cut him off.
"Didn't you?" He wants to know. He pushes Ronan onto his back and moves down his body until his thick cock is front and center. He runs his tongue up the length, hand still cradling it as his lips close around the head, just for a second. He doesn't want to set Ronan off just yet.
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"No," he gasps in answers. "You know I don't do that."
Masturbate. If he can help it. One of them still believes in God, and he does try to be good, in spite of his nature. Anyway, even if he'd indulged, he'd be in just as much peril as he is now. This is Declan's will, to be desired like this.
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He slides his mouth back and lets Ronan pop free as his hand takes over again. The flat of his tongue rubs past the head, tasting his precome like he can't quite get enough. Declan looks up along Ronan's body, appreciating the lines and curves of him.
"Do you want to fuck or get fucked, Ronan?" The answer doesn't really matter. Declan just wants to hear his voice again.
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Want. What does he want. What a strange concept.
"Both," Ronan whispers, catching Declan's gaze again as it slides over him. He can feel everything his brother is thinking about doing to him, and there is no wrong answer. "I'm not gonna last. Let me come inside you."
Then Declan can do whatever he pleases.
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Declan lifts his head and abandons Ronan's cock again, but not for long. His hand is slick with lube when he touches Ronan again and he watches his brother's face as he gives him a few quick strokes. It's a dream and Declan doesn't bother to ready himself before he straddles Ronan's hips.
"Come on then. Let's see what you've got."
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And then, finally, Declan is on him. Sinking down onto his cock, surrounding him. Ronan hisses and sucks in a breath between his teeth as that tight heat drags down and down until it swallows him up completely.
What he's got is precisely what Declan always imagines. What he's caught in glimpses. Ronan is a perfectly manufactured fantasy, so beautiful he tempts even his own brother to take him, and his cock is no exception. It throbs thick inside Declan, a toy to be thoroughly enjoyed as it's ridden. And in the meantime, Ronan suffers, trembling with the need for release but forbidden until he's given that unconscious permission.