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It wasn't that Choso didn't know that brothers shouldn't do things like this, or that, in a basic sense, it was wrong.
It was just that Yuuji looked so, so sad.
This was their fifth day together. Five days, five nights, walking through the wreckage of what was once Shibuya, sleeping in the rubble, scouring half-collapsed convenience stores for something to eat. Getting rid of curses day in and day out. They could still find dead bodies around corners, smell the scorched and unbearable stench of smoke saturating the air, the distant and stifled scream of someone desperate, calling for help, using their last breath in the hope of not dying buried so deep in the collapse that not even the light could reach them.
But people's lives, were ephemeral, and Choso had a goal. A fixed, clear goal, a goal that was at the same time a reason to live. Crying for strangers who, from the beginning, never had a chance to survive was useless, and he understood that perfectly well.
Yuuji didn’t.
Choso could see it every day, every minute, every hour. The way Yuuji was sinking, how the weight of the deaths caused by Sukuna that night lacerated him as if he was the one burning, as if all he could hear were the explosions and screams of the people trapped in the range of Sukuna's Domain. Choso could see it in his amber eyes, in the dark circles under them, in the tired, worn expression that shadowed his face every day, awake and also while he slept, the few hours he slept.
Yuuji was sad. So, so incredibly sad. And Choso couldn't do anything to change it. Just watch him hit rock bottom.
Choso couldn't say no to him. If Yuuji clung to his arm at night, if he rested his head on his shoulder when exhaustion overtook him, if he was suddenly kissing him, how could Choso say no? His whole existence revolved around making his brothers happy. Making them happy, making sure they were safe, making sure they were okay. As the older brother, that was his job. His duty.
So, that night, when they both dropped to the dirty, gravel-infested ground on the top floor of some building that still stood amidst all the hell that was the remains of Shibuya, the pulverized concrete digging into his palms as hard as a knife. That night, when despite the late hour and the fatigue and the injuries, the old ones and new ones, Yuuji was still awake, practically lying on his side, saying nothing; even then they could still hear the crunch of debris crashing against each other as they fell to the ground, the structures around them crumbling slowly but inevitably, just as Yuuji was. That night, when his brother pulled his red hood back, the tangle of tousled pink hair appearing beneath the fabric, barely visible under the flickering light of the bulbs above their heads.
That night, when Yuuji kissed him again, how could Choso stop him?
How could he stop him, when Yuuji's breathing in his mouth, so strange and so right, was the biggest sign that he was alive? When Yuuji climbed into his lap, pulling the scarf away from his neck and tangling his fingers in his hair, forcing Choso to hold him by the waist and lean back against the wall at the risk of falling, how could he stop him? How could Choso say no?
When Yuuji's fingers, calloused and hard, trailed along the skin beneath his clothes, from collarbone to chest, running all the way down to the middle of his abdomen and then back up again, all the while still kissing him. When Yuuji ran his tongue across his lips, forcing them open, thrusting inside his mouth and eliciting a wet and new and pleasurable sensation, one that Choso didn't know he could feel; when Yuuji trapped his tongue between his lips and sucked on it gently, making him gasp.
When Yuuji reached into his pants, without hesitation, looking him in the eyes and saying, "Choso, I need it. Will you let me?".
There was no reason big enough for him to refuse. Choso would not stop him.
“You're thinking too much. Are you having second thoughts?”
Yuuji's voice, husky and wet and rough around the edges pulled him back to where he was, still sitting on the uncomfortable, sandy floor, with his younger brother badly kneeling between his legs and with his dick still in his hand. Choso watched as Yuuji stroked him, up and down, steady, first seeing it and then processing it, the rush of pleasure and heat his fingers produced on his skin sending a thousand sensations throughout his body. Like Blood Manipulation, but worse.
Choso heard his brother's words, but didn't quite understood them. Yuuji held his gaze, then ran his tongue along the entire length of his dick before swallowing it, the sensation of wetness and heat tightening around him giving him goosebumps. This was... so new. Unfamiliar. Different from everything he knew or imagined. Yuuji closed his eyes, murmuring a sound of enjoyment of his own, sending waves of strong new sensations through Choso's body, who could only sit there and bite the inside of his cheek.
What should he do? His body felt on fire. Under the dim lights, his eyes caught the blood and dirt stains on Yuuji's clothes. It was the same clothes he was wearing when Choso first saw him, running, busy with something else before he ran into him to kill him. Whose blood was that, his or Yuuji's? Choso didn't know.
“You're thinking too much,” his younger brother repeated, again, pulling away from his cock with a wet, vulgar noise. “I can hear you thinking. You want me to stop.”
Was he asking him? Choso shook his head, slowly, stretching his fingers out to run them slowly over the scar across his brother's face.
“It's not like that. You can continue.”
Something resembling the hint of a smile curved the corners of Yuuji's lips.
“That wasn't sexy at all.”
Something akin to amusement. Choso watched as Yuuji did it again, first licking and then sucking on it, his cheek bulging and the curtain of his lashes falling, creating small shadows above his cheekbones, and the sensation again came after the vision, sweeping over everything and drowning him in a wave of pleasure. His fingers began to tremble, moving away from Yuuji's face and back into place, digging hard into the dusty cement of the floor. Yuuji seemed to notice, releasing one of his own hands from where it was, pulling the fabric of Choso’s pants out of the way, and bringing it with his own, dragging it back by the wrist and dropping it on top of his head.
Choso took a deep breath, his blood roaring and his skin burning, Yuuji's sweet, adoring mouth tightening around his cock tirelessly, and, again, it wasn't that he didn't know that this, in a basic sense, was wrong. It was simply that he couldn't find where it was wrong.
I need it, Yuuji had said, his lips soft on top of his own and his amber gaze slightly less tired, less defeated, less sunken. Choso, then, might had not fully understand the implications of what that meant, but if there was one thing he knew, above anything else, it was need.
Necessity.
The need to protect his siblings.
The need to take care of them.
The need to be an example, to be the best version of himself, for them.
The need to save them. To kill Kamo Noritoshi.
The need to make them happy, always, always, above all else.
Choso lived for them, and they lived for him. Yuuji was his brother, and that meant that, again, his whole life began and ended with him.
His fingers slowly stroked the curls of pink hair, gently. Yuuji made another sound, a noise of clear enjoyment, sucking more avidly on his dick, and Choso's dulled mind could only think that there was really nothing wrong with this.
Yuuji needed it, and he could give it to him.
Yuuji was sad, and he needed something, and he could give it to him. Why would that be wrong?
Choso traced Yuuji's face with his eyes. Red, glossy lips, stretched over his shaft—pink hair, tousled beneath his fingers. The blood, burning under his skin, coloring his cheeks, just above the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. His eyelids closed and his expression focused, determined, the same one he'd had when the two of them fought or when he'd smashed a curse with his fists. Choso could feel his own blood singing, his heart racing, torn between the immense, raw, unadulterated happiness of seeing his brother with an expression other than the dejection that had been clouding him since the night they'd started their journey together, and the overwhelming, wild storm of sensations simmering beneath his skin, burning his judgment.
Yuuji pursed his lips, sucking slowly, gently on the tip, opening his eyes to glance at him, suddenly breaking into a smile.
(Choso wasn't sure he'd ever seen him smile. At least, not in his recent—real—memories).
“You have a lot of stamina,” he murmured, his warm breath crashing against the shaft of his cock.
Choso blinked twice, breathing heavily.
“Is it bad?”
Yuuji snorted.
“No,” he replied, before rubbing his lips over the cockhead the way he did when they kissed. “But I'd like to swallow your cum if possible.”
It took Choso a full minute to understand the meaning behind it, the intrinsic truth hidden beneath such a mundane sexual act.
First, Yuuji wanted to bring him to release, for Choso to find the pinnacle of his own pleasure with and in his mouth, marking him, so he could swallow him. Yuuji wanted him. He wanted to know what he, his big brother, tasted like on his tongue. How he felt.
Second...
“This isn't the first time you've done this,” Choso said, mumbling, feeling the taste and weight of the words on his own tongue. It was not a question.
Yuuji paused, leaning back slightly. The cool, night air on the damp, overheated skin of his dick made him shiver, but not as much as the furrowed brows and suddenly serious expression on his brother's face.
“Does it bother you?” he asked, almost in a bark. He sounded, perhaps, slightly... annoyed.
Choso didn't want that.
He reached out his free hand, slow, careful, cradling his brother's warm, fevered cheek in it, feeling the tremor of blood running wild beneath his veins. Choso stroked his thumb over the scar at the corner of Yuuji’s mouth, delighted at the difference in texture.
“I don't mind. Yuuji, you're my younger brother. There's nothing that can bother me about you.”
Choso lived for him, and would also die for him.
“Ugh,” Yuuji stammered, slapping Choso’s hand away and returning to his previous position. His face was slightly redder than before. “Will you stop saying that? It's...”
“No. I'm not going to do it,” this was the one thing Choso couldn't give him. Yuuji was his brother, and he would call him as such.
Yuuji closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, wrapping rough, hard fingers around his dick.
“Then at least don't say it that way.”
Choso was about to ask, “In what way?” but then Yuuji took his dick in his mouth again, immediately silencing him and overwhelming him again. The heat and wetness enveloping him were two things Choso didn't know, didn't even imagine could feel that way—nothing he'd ever experienced could have warned him about this. Yuuji slid his lips, slow, up and down, again and again and again, his head rocking gently against Choso's palm in his hair, docile and quiet and adorable, all things he knew was and wasn't his brother.
His brother was strong. His brother was kind. His was capable of unmatched kindness, as well as unwavering determination.
Choso knew, so he said so.
“Yuuji, you're beautiful. You are strong. You're perfect” you're a Demon God, and you're mine, the same way I'm yours, was what Choso didn't say.
He didn't say it, but it was the truth, the only absolute truth: Yuuji existed for him, and he existed for Yuuji.
Yuuji stood still, staring at him with huge eyes, his full mouth hanging laxly and ridiculously, still stuffed with his dick. Choso heard his breathing stagger, above the low, steady panting of his own or the furious bellowing of his blood. Again Yuuji pulled away, jerking from his hands and completely disengaging from Choso’s touch, almost climbing into his lap and kissing his lips, the salty, foreign taste of his tongue a new experience on the list of new things Choso had experienced that night.
“Damn it,” Yuuji whispered, panting. He sounded crazed, “Why are you so...”
The words were lost between their lips. Choso held him by the waist again, the friction of hard fabric on the sensitive skin of his dick, trapped between their bodies, was strange, too rough to feel good but not enough to be painful. It was nowhere near, not in his wildest dreams, comparable to the warmth of his brother's mouth, but it wasn't unpleasant either, not with Yuuji's body heat pouring over him. It kept the pleasure at bay, like a low, controlled hum beneath his skin, bearable as Yuuji kissed the breath out of him and held his neck like his life depended on it.
“Touch me,” Yuuji said, his voice husky and raspy, leaving a peculiar, delicious taste in his mouth. “Please, Choso, touch me.”
“Where?”
“Just touch my cock, that'll do it.”
Choso looked up, blinking once.
“Yes,” he agreed, immediately, tasting the words roll out of his mouth. “Let me touch your cock, Yuuji.”
Yuuji growled, pulling away from him and creating enough space between them to unbuckle his belt and then the button of his pants, pulling them down to his knees.
Choso swallowed hard, looking at the—at his brother's cock, thick and hard in the dim light of the floor they were on, the angry, furious red color, bright with the liquid leaking from the tip inviting him to touch it, to taste it. If Choso put it in his mouth, what would it taste like? Would Yuuji be okay with that? Choso wasn't sure if that's what his younger brother would want right now, at that very moment, but the thought of doing it at some point settled in the back of his head.
Now, Choso simply touched it with his right hand, his fingers barely grazing the velvety soft skin before Yuuji squeaked heavily, like a whimper. Yuuji dropped his forehead onto Choso’s shoulder, his quickened breath spilling directly into the shell of his ear, and Choso couldn't help but touch him again, firmer this time.
“Fuck,” Yuuji stammered, and then Choso wrapped all his fingers around it and did the same thing Yuuji had done to him, stroking him, and Yuuji's voice didn't even come out.
Yuuji rutted against him, rocking his hips slowly, taking the rhythm with which Choso was jerking him, stopping only for half a second to grab Choso's cock and return the favor.
Choso let his head fall back, hard cement hitting against his hair.
“Yuuji,” he sighed, and feeling brave, dropped a kiss on the damp skin of his brother's neck.
“Fuck. Fuck.”
Yuuji stirred, rubbing himself some more. Choso felt dizzy, strange, the warm, perfect circle of his brother's hand squeezing perfectly on his cock as his fingers kept stroking it, and Yuuji's cock perfect too, made to fit in his own hand. He could feel it throbbing, the warm blood rushing wildly faster than he'd ever get to manipulate it, the steady, warm liquid dripping from the tip soaking his fingers and sparking his curiosity to taste it again.
“Wait, wait!” Yuuji almost yelled suddenly, coming to a complete stop. Choso gasped, cocking his head to look at him. His brother's face looked focused and determined. “Let me try something.”
Yuuji shifted, sitting back on his heels for a moment so he could completely undo his pants. He licked two fingers of his right hand, bringing it behind him, the expression of concentration compounding as he did something Choso could only speculate about, breaking into a million pieces the moment his mouth curved over the wet, deep sound of a moan.
Yuuji dropped his cheek against Choso’s chest, panting, letting him to hold his full weight, and it was then that Choso could see it, his hand moving rhythmically and secretly between his asscheeks, doing something Choso could only speculate about before but was now sure. Yuuji was stimulating himself, filling himself up with his own fingers. He couldn't even see it properly, see it fully, but just the sight of it made his blood throb, burning like boiling lava beneath his veins, traveling everywhere in his body like fire.
“Yuuji,” he groaned in awe.
Yuuji whined, also overwhelmed.
“Choso, Choso. Touch me, touch me, touch me, please. I-”
Choso obeyed, bringing his hand to his brother's cock and stroking it eagerly, forgetting the deafening noise of his own arousal behind his ears and concentrating solely on Yuuji, on the hoarse, rapturous gasp overflowing from his lips, his mouth half-open, pink hair more tousled than usual, and his hand tirelessly on the round, perfect relief of his ass. Choso's fingers were wet, bathed in that warm liquid that made his mouth water, wishing he could taste it, and then he squeezed a little harder and Yuuji sobbed and-
“Wait,” Yuuji repeated again, his voice weak, broken. “Wait. This isn't fair to you.”
“Yuuji, I'm fin-”
“Trust me, big brother.”
Choso probably stopped hearing. He knew nothing, heard nothing, deaf under the uncontrolled, animalistic roar of his blood, the violent pounding of his heart in the frame of his chest, running amok. His hands traveled to Yuuji's hips by inertia, digging hard as he felt him climb his lap again, carefully guiding his cock and shoving it into the soft cavern inside him, ten, fifty times warmer and tighter than his mouth. Choso heard him groan, grunting softly between his teeth, going still the moment he was fully seated.
“God, you're huge,” he croaked.
Choso didn't even hear it, lost in the repeating loop of Yuuji's voice inside his head, loud even above his own heartbeat. It was all brother, brother, brother, and Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji—Yuuji surrounding him, Yuuji squeezing him, Yuuji rocking against him and making him feel like he could die and fly and come alive, all at the same time.
Yuuji ground against him, burying himself in the cock filling him mercilessly, throwing both arms around Choso’s neck and drawing him into his body. Choso accepted, blindly, sinking into the heat of his body, thrusting up and doing it again when his brother's voice broke, fracturing into a tearful plea.
“Choso, Choso,” he mumbled against his ear. “You're so big.”
“Yes.”
“I feel so full.”
“Yes.”
“Here,” Yuuji untangled one of his arms, pulling his right hand from his waist and bringing it under his jacket, against his belly, “Look.”
Choso let his fingers lay flat, spread over the sweaty, smooth skin of his belly, feeling the hard, taut muscles of Yuuji's abs bulging slightly the moment he thrust his hips slightly, rocking against his cock. Choso could feel it, clearly, the shape of his cock marking and filling him to the brim, giving him exactly what Yuuji wanted, what he needed.
Choso rammed again, and again, and again, delighted with the swelling sensation on his fingertips, with the way Yuuji held him, the way the inside of his body seemed to suck him in, wanting more, unable to let go.
“My big brother fills me so well,” Yuuji murmured, digging the fingers of both hands into Choso's hair and tugging.
Choso sunk his teeth into his younger brother's neck, feeling as if he was going to break if he didn't.
“Yuuji.”
“Brother.”
“Yuuji!”
In that moment, Choso needed nothing more. Nothing more. His brother was in his arms, alive, safe from sadness and any other feelings had been depriving him of this, this thing that Choso knew existed inside him, vibrant and bright and deafening. Choso dragged his other hand to his brother's cock, touching it again as he'd asked so many times before, and suddenly Yuuji was shaking, jerking around his cock and over his lap, filling his fingers with what was probably his cum, his voice breaking into a single stifled cry that seemed to be born from the center of his chest to end up lodged deep in his own bones.
“Choso!” he cried.
Choso felt himself explode. His skin was on fire, becoming small, bursting into a violent glow. It was like being born, like being born again, like dying in pieces. Yuuji jerked, squirming sweetly when his seed filled him. Choso bit his lower lip, hearing Yuuji moan again, low, behind his lips, mumbling something unintelligible.
Choso held him close, catching his breath, feeling like he might explode again.
“Yuuji, I love you,” he said, without slurring or rushing the words.
His brother said nothing, still catching his breath, panting quietly in his ear. Almost like he had fallen asleep.
“I love you,” he repeated, only because he could say it, because he wanted to say it, because his life started and ended because of him, because he was there and Choso would never tire of having him near. Even on the dusty floor of a half-collapsed building. “I love you.”
“Choso.”
“I love you.”
“Choso.”
Yuuji pulled his head away from where it was, buried in the hollow of Choso's neck, staring into his eyes. Choso held his gaze, revisiting the lines of his face, the scars on them, the calm that now filled them. Choso loved him.
“Thank you,” Yuuji said. He leaned down, kissing his lips slowly and gently, without the desperation of the other times, like he was trying to find himself on the other's lips. “For everything.”
Choso looked over his brother, into the dimly lit darkness of the stairs they had climbed. Quiet. Complete. At that moment, he really didn't need anything.
“You don't have to thank me,” he replied, and it was the truth. “You're my brother, and I love you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.”
And they both knew it was true.