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Bison is busted the moment the patio door slides closed behind him. He’s used to sneaking back into his own house in the dead of night. What he’s not used to is the new curtains Fadel put up the other day, that change the weight of the sliding patio door just enough that the sound of it closing (thunk) is audible through the whole house. A light clicks on upstairs and Bison slides, defeated, down the patio door and stares morosely at the couch in front of him. He wonders if he should take a seat properly to await his ass-kicking.
“It’s me,” he says at normal volume, and hears the sound of a gun safety clicking back on.
Fadel walks out from an entirely different dark corner to the one illuminated by the hallway light. Bison doesn’t startle at this purely because it’s an old trick and he’s done it himself, but he does stand up and try to look pitiful to avoid the worst of what he’s expecting to be a lengthy lecture.
“Where have you been?” Fadal hisses once he’s stowed the gun safely behind the couch that doesn’t already have four stashed behind it.
“Just for a drink,” Bison lies.
“Very long drink,” Fadel snipes, eyeing the clock on the wall, “Did this drink have a name?”
Bison feels his ears heat up. He’s utterly humiliated just thinking about what happened this evening, and now he has to tell his brother.
“I didn’t -” he starts, and looks at his hands, twisted together in front of him.
“Oh, you didn’t get his name?” Fadel interrupts, “That’s great. Our cover gets blown by this guy one day and I can’t even track him down and kill him.”
“It’s not like that!” Bison protests, starting forward towards Fadel. He wants to storm past him, up the stairs and into his room, and slam the door like a teenager but he stands his ground instead.
“Really, well what is it like then?” Fadel says, his voice calm but anger sparking in his eyes.
“I didn’t, I mean this time I -” Bison stammers.
“Go on,” Fadel replies, “You do this every week with a different guy. What was this one like, hmm?”
Bison can feel himself blushing and he kind of wants the ground to swallow him up.
“I can probably find him from a description if you’ve seen him naked,” Fadel continues as though that’s a normal fucking thing to say, “What was he, your usual, tall dark and handsome? Did he have tattoos?”
“I didn’t fuck anyone tonight!” Bison blurts out, mostly to make Fadel stop talking.
Fadel’s usual stoic expression fades into confusion and he raises not one but both eyebrows at Bison incredulously.
“I met a guy at the bar, but we… I mean I… we didn’t, I left, it wasn’t -” Bison trails off and makes a frustrated sound as he leans back against the patio door.
“What wasn’t?” Fadel says very quietly.
Bison looks away.
“Wasn’t enough for you, was it,” Fadel says softly.
He’s in Bison’s space now. One hand on the glass door next to Bison’s head, the other by his side. Bison makes a motion, a tiny, ashamed shake of his head.
“What did he do?” Fadel asks, right by Bison’s ear.
“Please,” Bison whines, squirming under Fadel’s gaze, “Don’t.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” Bison gasps, “Phi, I’m sorry, I need it again, please.”
Fadel grabs his hip with his free hand and Bison makes a little involuntary sound, one he imagines a pinned butterfly might make.
“Tell me,” Fadel says, meeting his eyes for the first time all night, “So I can do it better than him.”
Bison bites his lip.
“He was gentle with me,” he starts, “Like I was fragile. Like I might break.”
Fadel tuts disapprovingly.
“He was too nice,” Bison admits as Fadel squeezes his hip tighter.
“That's not right at all,” Fadel says, “You need a firm hand, don't you?”
Bison nods gratefully. Fadel’s grip on his hip slides until he has a handful of his ass, pulls Bison flush up against him, and Bison grinds his hips forward without thinking.
“Needy thing,” Fadel says fondly, “He didn’t satisfy you, did he?”
Bison pouts and looks up at his brother through his eyelashes, a move that’s never failed him.
“No,” he breathes, “But I know you can, phi.”
Fadel slams him up against the glass door and kisses him. Bison giggles delightedly into the kiss. This evening is going so much better than his original plan. Fadel kisses so intensely that it’s hard for him to focus on anything much after that. He bites his brother’s lip as retaliation for the door slamming and he feels Fadel’s dick twitch where they’re pressed tight up against each other.
“Needed to get your teeth into someone tonight, didn’t you?”
Even in the dark, Bison can tell Fadel’s smiling when he says this. He’s only wearing sweatpants and a tank top, so Bison seizes his chance and really does get his teeth into him, leaving a neat little imprint on his brother’s shoulder that makes him hiss and lean into the pain rather than away from it.
Fadel doesn’t miss a beat, just hoists Bison up with his other arm, takes his full weight and shoves him up against the glass. Bison whines, shocked hot and desperate, and moves his hips in a deep, filthy grind. He bites Fadel on the other shoulder to match. Fadel swings them around and dumps Bison on the sofa unceremoniously. They do the undignified dance of taking their clothes off as fast as possible and Bison finds a condom in the pocket of his jeans to throw at Fadel.
“Fuck me,” he demands, “I already prepped.”
Fadel’s eyes grow darker.
“Turn over,” he growls.
Bison doesn’t need telling twice. He’s only just got his knees comfortable on the couch cushions when Fadel grabs him by the thighs, spreads him wider. He feels Fadel rub two dry fingers over where he’s wet and open and he almost purrs with contentment. Fadel leans in closer and spits, wet and nasty, right over his hole. Bison doesn’t have time to be shocked before Fadel’s replaced his fingers with his tongue. A high-pitched, humiliating sound comes out of him and he buries his face in his arms, spreads his legs wider wordlessly.
“Please, phi, stop, fuck me,” he begs when Fadel comes up for air.
“Need you wetter,” Fadel says, and doesn’t stop.
He adds two fingers alongside his tongue and Bison chokes on a moan and bites his own forearm to stay quiet. He’s started grinding back on Fadel’s face, on his fingers, his body demanding before his brain can catch up. His cock drips onto the couch cushions. Little involuntary “ah, ah” noises are escaping him that he can’t stifle. Fadel pulls back from where he was fluttering his tongue around Bison’s sensitive hole, but he doesn’t stop the relentless rubbing of his fingers against Bison’s prostate.
“I’ll come,” Bison whines, “Please don’t, I want -”
“Can you go twice?” Fadel pants from behind him, slick sounds suggesting he’s finally putting the condom on.
“Yes,” Bison groans tightly, “Just get your cock in me, oh fuck, oh - ”
He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence. Fadel withdraws his fingers, holds him open while he sets the fat head of his cock against Bison’s hole, and pushes inside like he fucking belongs there. Bison moans ecstatically at the stretch, at how Fadel just keeps fucking going, fucks deeper inside him as he opens up around the girth of him. Fuck, but he’s big, he’d forgotten how gorgeously thick his brother’s cock was. He thinks maybe he’s babbling about that but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is -
“Fuck, oh fuck,” Bison wails, “You’re right on it, I’m gonna -”
He’s always sensitive there, but fuck, after Fadel stroked him just right for so long, the sweet spot inside him is lit up and his cock is leaking like a faucet. He’s so close he can feel it in the cradle of his hips, in his ass, in his spine, he’s not gonna last like this. Fadel squeezes his thighs as he seats himself fully inside, and Bison clenches once, involuntarily, around the hard length of him, before the hot, insistent pressure on his prostate tips him over the edge. He cries out, cum shooting out of him in ropes, and clutches at Fadel’s leg behind him, nails digging in. Fadel grunts in pain and thrusts once, twice, until Bison groans,
“Hold still, I’m still, oh fuck -”
Bison grinds out the last of his orgasm, long and lush, as Fadel obediently stays still inside him. His cock pulses weak little blurts of cum with every grind of Fadel’s cock over his prostate.
“Oh my god,” he moans delightedly, “Oh my god, fuck, oh fuck I needed that.”
“You need more than that,” Fadel replies without missing a beat, and shoves him down with a hand between his shoulder blades. Bison can only gasp in agreement, breath pushed out of him as Fadel pulls out and thrusts back in, starting to fuck him properly. He’s over sensitive to a point that borders on painful and it’s glorious.
It’s true, though. Bison has always needed a firm hand when he submits a little like this - not fully, that’s not his thing at all, no, just enough that he can satisfy the hunger down deep inside him. Fadel knows what he likes, the edge of overstimulation that’s enough to get him off every time. It’s always so good with him.
“Slut,” Fadel says when Bison cants his hips back, seeking a deeper angle.
Bison can’t argue with that, so he just moans in agreement.
“Should have told him earlier the only one who really satisfies you is your big brother,” Fadel says, and oh, he must be enjoying this if he’s started running his mouth already. Fadel being talkative in bed was one of the fun surprises that Bison discovered when they first started fucking.
“Harder,” Bison gasps back.
Fadel grabs him around the waist and yanks, pulls him so far backwards that he’s up on his knees, straddling Fadel’s lap, and Fadel’s cock sinks impossibly deeper inside him. Bison is a little bit embarrassed about the yelp he lets out at the feeling. He feels split open, the ache good like pressing on a bruise. His cock had stayed soft while Fadel railed him face down on the couch but this angle is really doing it for him, he’s starting to chub up again. He leans his head back against Fadel’s chest to meet his brother’s lips in a messy kiss.
“Noone else knows how to fuck you right, do they?” Fadel growls.
“No,” Bison gasps, every thrust punching a breathy noise out of him, “Noone can - ah, fuck - noone does it like you - mmh - ”
Fadel lifts Bison up and off him for only a second to turn him around so that they’re facing each other. Bison sinks back down and bites feverishly at Fadel’s throat, right at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. He keeps his teeth there for a second, relishing the pained groan Fadel lets out and the way his cock hardens just a little more inside him. He’s distracted enough by his sadistic impulses that Fadel gains the upper hand again, gets his feet under him and starts dragging Bison up and down on his cock. This angle is perfect, deep and intense, Fadel’s cock rubbing up against his sensitive, swollen prostate.
“Right there, phi,” Bison moans, drags his fingernails down Fadel’s back like claws. Fadel lets out a shocked moan and drags him down into a kiss.
Bison’s second orgasm takes him completely by surprise. The thick, lovely drag of Fadel’s cock inside him was delicious but not quite enough, right up until the thrill of hurting Fadel hits and that’s what does it for him. He feels it start in his core, pulled from somewhere deeper than before, and go all the way out to his toes. He’s cumming so much, stomach and hips wet with it. He thinks he’s maybe making noises but the blood rushing in his ears drowns it out.
Fadel tumbles them over so Bison is on his back, legs in the air, and thrusts back inside so he can fuck him the way Bison will only let him when he’s two orgasms deep, loose and pliant. Bison’s truly oversensitive and edging into pain now, and his back hurts a little from the pounding he’s getting, but he’s enjoying the closeness.
“You’re so good for me,” he mumbles, and feels the movement of Fadel’s hips stutter as he goes rigid and comes inside him. Damn, his brother’s praise kink really is a mile wide.
Fadel presses their foreheads together before he pulls out. They don’t talk about this outside of the moment when it happens. Bison likes it better that way. It’s a fun, dirty little secret, that the best fuck of his life so far is his adopted brother. Fadel seems to like it this way too.
Later, when Bison emerges from his quick clean up in the bathroom, he finds Fadel, fully dressed, putting on his shoes by the front door.
“Where are you going?” he calls down the stairs as he towels his hair dry.
“To clean up your mess,” Fadel replies, keys in hand.
Bison almost stumbles on the final step. He’s not going to do what Bison thinks he’s going to do, is he?
"My what?" he stutters.
“Mess,” Fadel repeats, then, in the same tone of voice he uses when he’s explaining gun safety or how to pick a lock, “It’s way more memorable not to fuck someone than to fuck them. That guy could pick you out of a lineup easily. You left early enough that he’s probably still out, still in the same place if we’re lucky.”
“He was a shitty lay, but please don’t kill him,” Bison sighs defeatedly.
“Kill him? I’m not gonna kill him,” Fadel snorts, “I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t remember anything about this evening.”
Bison’s shoulders slump with relief. There’s something oddly endearing about that, actually. Fadel raises his eyebrows expectantly at him for the second time in as many hours.
“Now pass me the rohypnol, it’s on the counter.”