Fic - "This Filthy Fable"
Title: This Filthy Fable
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Castor Troy, Pollux Troy. Face/Off.
Word Count: 3,250
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The Troy brothers celebrate their latest heist with style.
Warnings: Incest, slash, graphic sex, excessive licking.
Notes: A hardcore tribute to my new favorite hardcore movie. I was ultimately smitten with Castor Troy, and especially the peculiar intimacy he shared with his brother. Their lifestyle is already so insanely hedonistic that I figured I could just take it to the next level. Also, as the movie made abundantly clear, Castor's an ass man. :D
Pollux is a god when he works. Castor is mesmerized by the lightning-sharp focus in his eyes as his fingers fly across the keys, adding some last minute clarification to the bomb’s programming, never content to settle for anything less than perfection. The gang’s all here, on the spacious balcony of the penthouse suite they’ve rented for the weekend, far enough from ground zero to avoid any damage but close enough to enjoy the show. Almost everyone is looking at the target--- everyone but the younger Troy, who’s hunched over his computer, barely aware of anything or anyone else. The pink tip of his tongue emerges from his mouth, a telltale sign of his concentration. Unseen, the rest of his tongue is clamped between his teeth. Sometimes he bites himself hard enough to draw blood. Castor knows.
Pollux isn’t the only one not looking into the distance. Castor has seen a hundred explosions if he’s seen one. He finds it infinitely more satisfying to watch his brother at work. The tension in his neck and jaw, the burning intensity of his eyes--- it’s a beautiful thing to see him so focused. His quick, clever fingers dart to and fro. His knees bounce with excitement. Castor keeps time with him, clicking his teeth. Excitement is contagious.
They’ve all synchronized their watches, and across the balcony someone says, “One minute!”
There it is--- Pollux starts to smile, his lips slowly curling as he begins to rock slightly, racing his own timer right down to the line. This is where he gets his greatest thrill. Castor considers it a privilege to provide the opportunity. After all, he’s the one who gets to enjoy it the most. As Pollux rocks in his chair, Castor rocks his hips, the two brothers locked in their own distant dance.
Leo calls, “Ten seconds!” And everyone takes up the count--- “Ten, nine, eight---”
Pollux is pure energy, his shoulders drawing up, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. Castor leans towards him, drawn by him, riveted by him, fighting the urge to just charge over there and grab him.
“Seven, six, five, four---”
The final keystroke, and then Pollux slams the computer closed, his eyes bright and eager, his body trembling in anticipation. Castor isn’t even tempted to look away. The destruction of a building is an ugly thing. The triumph of an artist is a gift beyond measure.
“Three, two, one!”
There’s a roar and a flash in the distance. Castor doesn’t care. He’s watching Pollux. At the moment of detonation he lurches forward, the movement originating in his pelvis, a primal thrust towards his latest masterpiece. His mouth pops open in a moan of satisfaction that gets swallowed up by the cheering of the other men. Castor unleashes a cry of his own, a jubilant bark that goes similarly unheard in the commotion--- except that Pollux seems to sense it, and he turns sharply towards him, his look of exultation fading into that familiar boyish grin. He draws thumb and middle finger towards his glasses, crooking his pinkie at Castor like the tease he is. Magnificent little bastard.
As the initial clamor fades into general congratulatory chatter, their fearless leader takes center stage. Castor struts before his men like a rooster, his arms thrown out in victory, his voice carrying over theirs and plunging them into respectful silence.
“Ain’t it great?” he crows. “Ain’t it grand? You know what I think? I think we’ve got the best goddamn job in the world.”
There’s a round of applause by way of agreement. This is all just a formality. They want their congratulations, a pat on the head, and then he can send them on their way. The sooner the better. He’s wound as tight as a spring and there’s only one cure. He sidles over to Pollux and takes his face in his hands.
“And how about a round of applause,” he purrs. “For our mastermind.”
They answer in kind. Pollux smirks, his eyes flicking downwards significantly, and when Castor follows his gaze, he notices the unmistakable bulge at the front of his own immaculately-tailored trousers.
“Looks like somebody enjoyed the demolition,” Pollux chitters, mock-scandalized.
“You’re damn right I did,” Castor grins.
Then, he slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder and turns towards the gang. He hooks his other hand inside his jacket and flips it back behind his hip, displaying the erection like the alpha dog he is. The accomplished grins of the other men fade into looks of vague unease.
“Now if you don’t mind,” Castor announces. “My brother and I are going to celebrate our achievements.”
Pollux squirms in his grip, embarrassed by the attention. Castor is undeterred. If anything, he’s only encouraged. He thrusts his pelvis forward, daring someone to challenge him. He can feel Pollux’s hand on his back, slipping under his jacket, thumbing at his belt.
“We will be adjoining to the master bedroom, for we are your masters.” At the expressions of genuine discomfort, he continues with a spiteful laugh. “We’re gonna have ourselves a little dance party. So if we come out of the bedroom sweaty, disheveled, and satisfied---” he offers a lascivious wink. “Now you know why.”
With that, the two brothers turn as one unit and march back into the penthouse. They laugh all the way to the bedroom, Pollux skirting ahead, encouraging Castor to chase him, and together they cross the threshold into their room. Castor locks the door behind them and they’re officially alone.
“Such a combination of narcissism and exhibitionism,” Pollux tuts. “It really isn’t healthy.”
Castor is in no mood for banter. He strips off his jacket as he closes the distance between them. It’s a perfectly-tailored Italian original, custom made for his slender frame, but it ends up on the floor. Castor Troy is a god in his own right, but though he possesses countless tributes and offerings in the form of finery and gold, he casts it aside when he worships at the altar of his choice.
“I love watching you work, bro, it’s a thing of beauty,” he growls. “Gets me hard as a fucking rock.”
He seizes Pollux’s shoulders in an iron grip, yanking his blazer halfway down his arms, pinning them against him. Pollux doesn’t resist. Instead, he throws himself forward, slamming their mouths together in a savage kiss. Though his arms are pinned to his side, he can still reach out and hook his fingers into Castor’s fine leather belt, tugging him in by the hips. They buck against each other, teeth scraping, Castor’s powerful tongue pouring into his brother’s eager, waiting mouth.
Pollux emits high, harsh whimpers of delight. He yanks repeatedly on Castor’s belt, grinding their erections together, and the friction combined with his utterly decadent surrender almost drive Castor straight over the edge before he even has a chance to get started.
“Whoa, there,” he pulls himself away, indicating his trousers. “These are Italian.”
“So?” Pollux pants, his mouth already swollen with lust.
“So I’m not going to shoot off in my shorts like a eighth-grader getting to second base.”
“That close already?” Pollux giggles. “My, we are excited.”
Joining him in a condescending laugh, Castor suddenly snatches him by the chin, fingers curling roughly around his jaw. That shuts him up quick, and Pollux’s eyes go wide with indignation.
“Now, now,” Castor chides gently. “It’s not nice to laugh at people.”
“I was laughing with you,” Pollux manages to smirk around his hand. “Bro.”
The way he raises his eyebrows, the utter confidence that Castor will never harm him--- it’s just as arousing as blowing up a building. Castor drags him in for another kiss and lets Pollux flick at his lips with his fearless little tongue.
They separate in the same moment. Pollux shrugs out of his jacket while Castor unbuttons his fine silk shirt, untucking it and pulling it open like Clark Kent turning into motherfucking Superman. He certainly feels like a superhero, and it only gets better when Pollux scopes him up and down with hungry eyes. Castor keeps himself in prime physical condition. He loves to look good, and he loves that Pollux loves it. In fact, the look that his brother is giving him has got him so hot and bothered that he gives up any attempt to disrobe entirely. He fumbles with his belt and Pollux understands his intentions immediately, darting in and dropping to his knees.
There’s a moment in which their eyes meet, the one looking up and the other gazing down, a smile shared between them. Wordlessly, Pollux removes his glasses and sets them on the floor, giving them a little flick so that they slide a safe distance away. It’s the nonchalance of the gesture that makes it so sexy.
“Oh, you little minx,” Castor chuckles. “How’d you get so good at this?”
“I guess it runs in the family,” Pollux shrugs modestly as his skillful fingers work at his brother’s fly.
The moment Castor’s erection is exposed to the open air, Pollux doesn’t even give it time to get cold. He’s got his mouth on it in a heartbeat, almost as if he’s protecting it, as if it’s a treasure that he must shield from the outside world. Older brother rolls his head back in delight, his hands twining in Pollux’s dusty hair. It takes a Troy to handle a Troy--- Pollux knows exactly what Castor likes, knows to scrape with his teeth just so, to swirl his tongue just there, and to slip one hand up around the base of his cock to squeeze.
“Aw, yes,” Castor hisses. “That’s right. That’s nice, babe.”
“I know,” his brother mumbles smugly. “I know.”
But this is too easy. Castor doesn’t want it to end so smoothly. He doesn’t like it to be over until Pollux is screaming. Because of his timid nature, most people wouldn’t guess it, but Pollux is a screamer. Once he really gets going, doesn’t matter if it’s in bed or on the back of a motorcycle, he loves to throw back his head and howl. Castor is the only one who can get him there. With Castor behind the wheel, the needle on the speedometer cranks around, the wind tears at their hair, and over the roar he can hear his brother shrieking like the devil. It’s addictive. Sometimes Castor can’t get off until he hears Pollux scream.
So with a quick jerk, he steps back and pulls himself out of his brother’s mouth. Pollux leans forward, tries to hold on, but Castor forces him back with a hand in his hair.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds.
“I’m not finished,” Pollux whines. “Let me finish.”
“You don’t get to finish,” Castor reminds him. “I get to finish, and I decide where and how. The answer to both of those questions is your ass.”
“Not very romantic, are you?” Pollux huffs, scrubbing at his mouth.
“You want romance, watch a goddamn movie. You want a great fuck, then turn around and drop your pants.”
“Promises, promises.”
But Pollux is clearly aroused past the point of his willpower to resist, and even though he darts forward to give Castor’s prick a final affectionate lick, he does as he’s told and gets to his feet. The Troys keep their hotel rooms well-stocked, and there’s already lube waiting in the bedside drawer. Pollux tosses the tube in Castor’s direction, knowing that his brother will catch it, not even bothering to verify it before rucking his shirt up over his head. Castor’s so excited that he doesn’t even bother to take off his pants, just shoves them down enough to set himself free.
It’s so hard for Castor to stay silent. He wants to praise his brother’s body but knows it makes him unbearably uncomfortable. It’s true, Pollux isn’t in nearly as good a shape as his older brother, but that’s his charm. He’s got a soft, pale belly and a weak chest, thin arms and shoulders that are too quick to hunch. Castor loves that little belly, loves to fuck Pollux on his back so he can watch the way it folds and shifts beneath him.
But not today. Today is a party and they’re going to party hard.
Pollux, naked, clambers onto the bed on his hands and knees. He turns and presents his ass to Castor, glancing back over his shoulder with a coquettish grin. Castor takes the term “ass man” to a new level of obsession, and his brother’s display is enough to wipe his mind completely blank, his brain boiling into heat and white noise.
“Hot damn,” he whispers reverently, coating himself with lube. “Like a Georgia peach.”
He scrambles up onto the bed behind him and Pollux drops his head, bracing himself against the mattress. However, Castor’s in no hurry. He wants to savor the view. He places his hands lightly on Pollux’s shoulders, thrilling as his brother’s flesh breaks out in goosebumps and he releases a thin, shivery giggle of glee. Castor traces his fingertips down his back, along his tender ribs, and then blessedly slides his palms down and around that precious backside.
“Ohhh, Cas,” Pollux moans, leaning back into his grip.
“That’s right, baby,” Castor murmurs. “Daddy’s here.”
He presses a kiss to the small of his brother’s back, a kiss that turns into a hot stroke of his tongue. Another lick, lower. Another, another, while Pollux whimpers and shakes, until Castor’s mouth finally embraces his asshole. He licks and teases, drawing out every kind of sound from the smaller man, muffled gasps and sighs and shrill, desperate pleas.
Castor loves this ass. It’s worth more to him than any prize, any jewel or fortune. It belongs to him, it has since the day they were born, since the day they first came together in that filthy basement, their own cries drowning out the turmoil of the world around them. In moments like this, he wants to be sure that Pollux knows how valuable he is, how Castor could spend a lifetime here behind him, holding him, embracing him. Girls come and go, guys come and go, but Pollux is forever and there’s never going to be anyone else. Castor’s no poet, so he tells him with his mouth, with his hands, with the hot and hungry tongue that he pushes inside of him, tasting the very essence of him.
“Fuck!” Pollux yelps. “Don’t--- don’t t-tease me, Cas!”
“What do you want, Pollux?” he wonders, nipping him gently. “Just say it.”
“I want you,” he groans. “I want you to fuck me.”
Castor rises up on his knees, positions himself at Pollux’s entrance, and warns, “Here it comes, babe.” Then, with a sturdy grip on his partner’s hips, he pulls himself inside. As he enters, Pollux’s voice starts in a low hum and builds up towards something higher. Castor’s body sings with heat and exaltation. Pollux is warm and tight around him, engulfing him, pulling him in like a gravitational force. It’s all he can do to pull himself back just enough before throwing himself into a solid thrust.
And just like that, foreplay is over. Castor charges into action and Pollux rises to the occasion, shoving himself back onto his brother, his hands clawing at the Egyptian cotton sheets beneath him. Growling savagely, Castor thrusts again and again, slapping that magnificent ass on every return.
“Harder!” Pollux demands. “Harder, Cas, harder!”
And Castor Troy, who takes orders from no one, obeys immediately. He thrusts harder and hits harder, then folds over him, reaching around to stroke his sensitive belly, reaching lower to find Pollux’s erection and take it into his own hand.
It starts. Pollux begins to whine, his voice heavy and strained, pouring out of him in long, luxurious notes. Castor begins to pump him, and Pollux’s voice gets a little higher, a little louder, his back arching desperately into his brother’s touch.
“Come on, baby,” Castor urges, biting and licking at the shuddering body beneath him. “Scream for me.”
“C-Cas...!” Pollux gasps helplessly. “Cas, please!”
There’s sweat and spit and tears, the younger brother burying his face in the mattress, the older brother bearing down with all of his strength. He can feel how close Pollux is to bursting, but he’s not ready. He wants to keep going. He always wants to keep going. Sometimes he’s kept going long after an exhausted Pollux has begged him to stop. Today they’re going to come together. He can feel it. They’re so close--- closer than they’ve ever been--- closer---
“Scream, Pollux!” he roars. “I want you to scream!”
He pumps one last time, feels his brother start to come--- and as he does, Pollux throws back his head and lets out a wrenching, glorious howl, a piercing shriek that sears through Castor’s ears, down through his spine, and straight into his cock. He comes so hard that he almost goes blind, his eyes shot wide, his vision swimming white and red and hallelujah.
When the world returns, he’s looking down at ten bright red streaks on a smooth white canvas. The image grows sharper and he realizes that it’s Pollux’s back, freshly raked by his own nails, some of the marks only superficial but a few of them drawing blood. Extremely proud of himself, Castor leans down and draws his tongue along the worst of the cuts. Pollux emits a muffled groan of acknowledgement before rolling onto his side, completely spent. Castor rolls with him and curls adoringly around him.
“My baby babe,” he coos, wrapping his arms around him, his palms splayed over his soft stomach. “My sweet baby babe.”
“Mmm,” Pollux cuddles against him. “Nice work, big daddy.”
“Nice work yourself, Peach,” he offers a few lazy licks to the back of his ear, grooming him. “My little mastermind.”
“Cas likes it when things go boom,” the younger brother chuckles, stroking the other’s forearms. “Peach likes it when Cas is happy.”
“Cas is happy when Peach is happy.”
Like a drowsy cat, Pollux rolls over and presses a kiss to his big brother’s mouth.
“Well,” he suggests. “Shall we step out and shock the public?”
“There’s an open bar in the lounge,” Castor agrees. “We’re paying extra for that shit.”
“Let’s avail ourselves.”
They wander about the room, collecting clothing, shrugging into shirts. Pollux is a little bit ginger pulling on his trousers--- Castor may have been a bit too vigorous with the spanking. He also has some trouble finding his glasses, but big brother finds them and offers them with a chivalric flourish.
“My knight in shining armor,” Pollux simpers.
When they step out into the lounge, the merriment falls silent. The men have helped themselves to that open bar, but now they all stop and stare, some with drinks suspended halfway to their mouths. Castor has intentionally left his shirt unbuttoned, and he fans himself with a giddy smile on his face.
“Oh, lordy lordy!” he cackles. “I do love me some dancing!”
The men chuckle nervously. Castor glances back at Pollux, who adjusts his glasses with a sheepish smile. He crooks his pinkie at his brother, wags it knowingly, and when Castor turns back to his gang, he’s grinning like the king of the cheshire cats.
“Especially the horizontal mambo,” he smirks.
Annoyed stares from the men. A bleat of laughter from behind him.
Guess which one matters more.
________end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Castor Troy, Pollux Troy. Face/Off.
Word Count: 3,250
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The Troy brothers celebrate their latest heist with style.
Warnings: Incest, slash, graphic sex, excessive licking.
Notes: A hardcore tribute to my new favorite hardcore movie. I was ultimately smitten with Castor Troy, and especially the peculiar intimacy he shared with his brother. Their lifestyle is already so insanely hedonistic that I figured I could just take it to the next level. Also, as the movie made abundantly clear, Castor's an ass man. :D
Pollux is a god when he works. Castor is mesmerized by the lightning-sharp focus in his eyes as his fingers fly across the keys, adding some last minute clarification to the bomb’s programming, never content to settle for anything less than perfection. The gang’s all here, on the spacious balcony of the penthouse suite they’ve rented for the weekend, far enough from ground zero to avoid any damage but close enough to enjoy the show. Almost everyone is looking at the target--- everyone but the younger Troy, who’s hunched over his computer, barely aware of anything or anyone else. The pink tip of his tongue emerges from his mouth, a telltale sign of his concentration. Unseen, the rest of his tongue is clamped between his teeth. Sometimes he bites himself hard enough to draw blood. Castor knows.
Pollux isn’t the only one not looking into the distance. Castor has seen a hundred explosions if he’s seen one. He finds it infinitely more satisfying to watch his brother at work. The tension in his neck and jaw, the burning intensity of his eyes--- it’s a beautiful thing to see him so focused. His quick, clever fingers dart to and fro. His knees bounce with excitement. Castor keeps time with him, clicking his teeth. Excitement is contagious.
They’ve all synchronized their watches, and across the balcony someone says, “One minute!”
There it is--- Pollux starts to smile, his lips slowly curling as he begins to rock slightly, racing his own timer right down to the line. This is where he gets his greatest thrill. Castor considers it a privilege to provide the opportunity. After all, he’s the one who gets to enjoy it the most. As Pollux rocks in his chair, Castor rocks his hips, the two brothers locked in their own distant dance.
Leo calls, “Ten seconds!” And everyone takes up the count--- “Ten, nine, eight---”
Pollux is pure energy, his shoulders drawing up, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. Castor leans towards him, drawn by him, riveted by him, fighting the urge to just charge over there and grab him.
“Seven, six, five, four---”
The final keystroke, and then Pollux slams the computer closed, his eyes bright and eager, his body trembling in anticipation. Castor isn’t even tempted to look away. The destruction of a building is an ugly thing. The triumph of an artist is a gift beyond measure.
“Three, two, one!”
There’s a roar and a flash in the distance. Castor doesn’t care. He’s watching Pollux. At the moment of detonation he lurches forward, the movement originating in his pelvis, a primal thrust towards his latest masterpiece. His mouth pops open in a moan of satisfaction that gets swallowed up by the cheering of the other men. Castor unleashes a cry of his own, a jubilant bark that goes similarly unheard in the commotion--- except that Pollux seems to sense it, and he turns sharply towards him, his look of exultation fading into that familiar boyish grin. He draws thumb and middle finger towards his glasses, crooking his pinkie at Castor like the tease he is. Magnificent little bastard.
As the initial clamor fades into general congratulatory chatter, their fearless leader takes center stage. Castor struts before his men like a rooster, his arms thrown out in victory, his voice carrying over theirs and plunging them into respectful silence.
“Ain’t it great?” he crows. “Ain’t it grand? You know what I think? I think we’ve got the best goddamn job in the world.”
There’s a round of applause by way of agreement. This is all just a formality. They want their congratulations, a pat on the head, and then he can send them on their way. The sooner the better. He’s wound as tight as a spring and there’s only one cure. He sidles over to Pollux and takes his face in his hands.
“And how about a round of applause,” he purrs. “For our mastermind.”
They answer in kind. Pollux smirks, his eyes flicking downwards significantly, and when Castor follows his gaze, he notices the unmistakable bulge at the front of his own immaculately-tailored trousers.
“Looks like somebody enjoyed the demolition,” Pollux chitters, mock-scandalized.
“You’re damn right I did,” Castor grins.
Then, he slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder and turns towards the gang. He hooks his other hand inside his jacket and flips it back behind his hip, displaying the erection like the alpha dog he is. The accomplished grins of the other men fade into looks of vague unease.
“Now if you don’t mind,” Castor announces. “My brother and I are going to celebrate our achievements.”
Pollux squirms in his grip, embarrassed by the attention. Castor is undeterred. If anything, he’s only encouraged. He thrusts his pelvis forward, daring someone to challenge him. He can feel Pollux’s hand on his back, slipping under his jacket, thumbing at his belt.
“We will be adjoining to the master bedroom, for we are your masters.” At the expressions of genuine discomfort, he continues with a spiteful laugh. “We’re gonna have ourselves a little dance party. So if we come out of the bedroom sweaty, disheveled, and satisfied---” he offers a lascivious wink. “Now you know why.”
With that, the two brothers turn as one unit and march back into the penthouse. They laugh all the way to the bedroom, Pollux skirting ahead, encouraging Castor to chase him, and together they cross the threshold into their room. Castor locks the door behind them and they’re officially alone.
“Such a combination of narcissism and exhibitionism,” Pollux tuts. “It really isn’t healthy.”
Castor is in no mood for banter. He strips off his jacket as he closes the distance between them. It’s a perfectly-tailored Italian original, custom made for his slender frame, but it ends up on the floor. Castor Troy is a god in his own right, but though he possesses countless tributes and offerings in the form of finery and gold, he casts it aside when he worships at the altar of his choice.
“I love watching you work, bro, it’s a thing of beauty,” he growls. “Gets me hard as a fucking rock.”
He seizes Pollux’s shoulders in an iron grip, yanking his blazer halfway down his arms, pinning them against him. Pollux doesn’t resist. Instead, he throws himself forward, slamming their mouths together in a savage kiss. Though his arms are pinned to his side, he can still reach out and hook his fingers into Castor’s fine leather belt, tugging him in by the hips. They buck against each other, teeth scraping, Castor’s powerful tongue pouring into his brother’s eager, waiting mouth.
Pollux emits high, harsh whimpers of delight. He yanks repeatedly on Castor’s belt, grinding their erections together, and the friction combined with his utterly decadent surrender almost drive Castor straight over the edge before he even has a chance to get started.
“Whoa, there,” he pulls himself away, indicating his trousers. “These are Italian.”
“So?” Pollux pants, his mouth already swollen with lust.
“So I’m not going to shoot off in my shorts like a eighth-grader getting to second base.”
“That close already?” Pollux giggles. “My, we are excited.”
Joining him in a condescending laugh, Castor suddenly snatches him by the chin, fingers curling roughly around his jaw. That shuts him up quick, and Pollux’s eyes go wide with indignation.
“Now, now,” Castor chides gently. “It’s not nice to laugh at people.”
“I was laughing with you,” Pollux manages to smirk around his hand. “Bro.”
The way he raises his eyebrows, the utter confidence that Castor will never harm him--- it’s just as arousing as blowing up a building. Castor drags him in for another kiss and lets Pollux flick at his lips with his fearless little tongue.
They separate in the same moment. Pollux shrugs out of his jacket while Castor unbuttons his fine silk shirt, untucking it and pulling it open like Clark Kent turning into motherfucking Superman. He certainly feels like a superhero, and it only gets better when Pollux scopes him up and down with hungry eyes. Castor keeps himself in prime physical condition. He loves to look good, and he loves that Pollux loves it. In fact, the look that his brother is giving him has got him so hot and bothered that he gives up any attempt to disrobe entirely. He fumbles with his belt and Pollux understands his intentions immediately, darting in and dropping to his knees.
There’s a moment in which their eyes meet, the one looking up and the other gazing down, a smile shared between them. Wordlessly, Pollux removes his glasses and sets them on the floor, giving them a little flick so that they slide a safe distance away. It’s the nonchalance of the gesture that makes it so sexy.
“Oh, you little minx,” Castor chuckles. “How’d you get so good at this?”
“I guess it runs in the family,” Pollux shrugs modestly as his skillful fingers work at his brother’s fly.
The moment Castor’s erection is exposed to the open air, Pollux doesn’t even give it time to get cold. He’s got his mouth on it in a heartbeat, almost as if he’s protecting it, as if it’s a treasure that he must shield from the outside world. Older brother rolls his head back in delight, his hands twining in Pollux’s dusty hair. It takes a Troy to handle a Troy--- Pollux knows exactly what Castor likes, knows to scrape with his teeth just so, to swirl his tongue just there, and to slip one hand up around the base of his cock to squeeze.
“Aw, yes,” Castor hisses. “That’s right. That’s nice, babe.”
“I know,” his brother mumbles smugly. “I know.”
But this is too easy. Castor doesn’t want it to end so smoothly. He doesn’t like it to be over until Pollux is screaming. Because of his timid nature, most people wouldn’t guess it, but Pollux is a screamer. Once he really gets going, doesn’t matter if it’s in bed or on the back of a motorcycle, he loves to throw back his head and howl. Castor is the only one who can get him there. With Castor behind the wheel, the needle on the speedometer cranks around, the wind tears at their hair, and over the roar he can hear his brother shrieking like the devil. It’s addictive. Sometimes Castor can’t get off until he hears Pollux scream.
So with a quick jerk, he steps back and pulls himself out of his brother’s mouth. Pollux leans forward, tries to hold on, but Castor forces him back with a hand in his hair.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds.
“I’m not finished,” Pollux whines. “Let me finish.”
“You don’t get to finish,” Castor reminds him. “I get to finish, and I decide where and how. The answer to both of those questions is your ass.”
“Not very romantic, are you?” Pollux huffs, scrubbing at his mouth.
“You want romance, watch a goddamn movie. You want a great fuck, then turn around and drop your pants.”
“Promises, promises.”
But Pollux is clearly aroused past the point of his willpower to resist, and even though he darts forward to give Castor’s prick a final affectionate lick, he does as he’s told and gets to his feet. The Troys keep their hotel rooms well-stocked, and there’s already lube waiting in the bedside drawer. Pollux tosses the tube in Castor’s direction, knowing that his brother will catch it, not even bothering to verify it before rucking his shirt up over his head. Castor’s so excited that he doesn’t even bother to take off his pants, just shoves them down enough to set himself free.
It’s so hard for Castor to stay silent. He wants to praise his brother’s body but knows it makes him unbearably uncomfortable. It’s true, Pollux isn’t in nearly as good a shape as his older brother, but that’s his charm. He’s got a soft, pale belly and a weak chest, thin arms and shoulders that are too quick to hunch. Castor loves that little belly, loves to fuck Pollux on his back so he can watch the way it folds and shifts beneath him.
But not today. Today is a party and they’re going to party hard.
Pollux, naked, clambers onto the bed on his hands and knees. He turns and presents his ass to Castor, glancing back over his shoulder with a coquettish grin. Castor takes the term “ass man” to a new level of obsession, and his brother’s display is enough to wipe his mind completely blank, his brain boiling into heat and white noise.
“Hot damn,” he whispers reverently, coating himself with lube. “Like a Georgia peach.”
He scrambles up onto the bed behind him and Pollux drops his head, bracing himself against the mattress. However, Castor’s in no hurry. He wants to savor the view. He places his hands lightly on Pollux’s shoulders, thrilling as his brother’s flesh breaks out in goosebumps and he releases a thin, shivery giggle of glee. Castor traces his fingertips down his back, along his tender ribs, and then blessedly slides his palms down and around that precious backside.
“Ohhh, Cas,” Pollux moans, leaning back into his grip.
“That’s right, baby,” Castor murmurs. “Daddy’s here.”
He presses a kiss to the small of his brother’s back, a kiss that turns into a hot stroke of his tongue. Another lick, lower. Another, another, while Pollux whimpers and shakes, until Castor’s mouth finally embraces his asshole. He licks and teases, drawing out every kind of sound from the smaller man, muffled gasps and sighs and shrill, desperate pleas.
Castor loves this ass. It’s worth more to him than any prize, any jewel or fortune. It belongs to him, it has since the day they were born, since the day they first came together in that filthy basement, their own cries drowning out the turmoil of the world around them. In moments like this, he wants to be sure that Pollux knows how valuable he is, how Castor could spend a lifetime here behind him, holding him, embracing him. Girls come and go, guys come and go, but Pollux is forever and there’s never going to be anyone else. Castor’s no poet, so he tells him with his mouth, with his hands, with the hot and hungry tongue that he pushes inside of him, tasting the very essence of him.
“Fuck!” Pollux yelps. “Don’t--- don’t t-tease me, Cas!”
“What do you want, Pollux?” he wonders, nipping him gently. “Just say it.”
“I want you,” he groans. “I want you to fuck me.”
Castor rises up on his knees, positions himself at Pollux’s entrance, and warns, “Here it comes, babe.” Then, with a sturdy grip on his partner’s hips, he pulls himself inside. As he enters, Pollux’s voice starts in a low hum and builds up towards something higher. Castor’s body sings with heat and exaltation. Pollux is warm and tight around him, engulfing him, pulling him in like a gravitational force. It’s all he can do to pull himself back just enough before throwing himself into a solid thrust.
And just like that, foreplay is over. Castor charges into action and Pollux rises to the occasion, shoving himself back onto his brother, his hands clawing at the Egyptian cotton sheets beneath him. Growling savagely, Castor thrusts again and again, slapping that magnificent ass on every return.
“Harder!” Pollux demands. “Harder, Cas, harder!”
And Castor Troy, who takes orders from no one, obeys immediately. He thrusts harder and hits harder, then folds over him, reaching around to stroke his sensitive belly, reaching lower to find Pollux’s erection and take it into his own hand.
It starts. Pollux begins to whine, his voice heavy and strained, pouring out of him in long, luxurious notes. Castor begins to pump him, and Pollux’s voice gets a little higher, a little louder, his back arching desperately into his brother’s touch.
“Come on, baby,” Castor urges, biting and licking at the shuddering body beneath him. “Scream for me.”
“C-Cas...!” Pollux gasps helplessly. “Cas, please!”
There’s sweat and spit and tears, the younger brother burying his face in the mattress, the older brother bearing down with all of his strength. He can feel how close Pollux is to bursting, but he’s not ready. He wants to keep going. He always wants to keep going. Sometimes he’s kept going long after an exhausted Pollux has begged him to stop. Today they’re going to come together. He can feel it. They’re so close--- closer than they’ve ever been--- closer---
“Scream, Pollux!” he roars. “I want you to scream!”
He pumps one last time, feels his brother start to come--- and as he does, Pollux throws back his head and lets out a wrenching, glorious howl, a piercing shriek that sears through Castor’s ears, down through his spine, and straight into his cock. He comes so hard that he almost goes blind, his eyes shot wide, his vision swimming white and red and hallelujah.
When the world returns, he’s looking down at ten bright red streaks on a smooth white canvas. The image grows sharper and he realizes that it’s Pollux’s back, freshly raked by his own nails, some of the marks only superficial but a few of them drawing blood. Extremely proud of himself, Castor leans down and draws his tongue along the worst of the cuts. Pollux emits a muffled groan of acknowledgement before rolling onto his side, completely spent. Castor rolls with him and curls adoringly around him.
“My baby babe,” he coos, wrapping his arms around him, his palms splayed over his soft stomach. “My sweet baby babe.”
“Mmm,” Pollux cuddles against him. “Nice work, big daddy.”
“Nice work yourself, Peach,” he offers a few lazy licks to the back of his ear, grooming him. “My little mastermind.”
“Cas likes it when things go boom,” the younger brother chuckles, stroking the other’s forearms. “Peach likes it when Cas is happy.”
“Cas is happy when Peach is happy.”
Like a drowsy cat, Pollux rolls over and presses a kiss to his big brother’s mouth.
“Well,” he suggests. “Shall we step out and shock the public?”
“There’s an open bar in the lounge,” Castor agrees. “We’re paying extra for that shit.”
“Let’s avail ourselves.”
They wander about the room, collecting clothing, shrugging into shirts. Pollux is a little bit ginger pulling on his trousers--- Castor may have been a bit too vigorous with the spanking. He also has some trouble finding his glasses, but big brother finds them and offers them with a chivalric flourish.
“My knight in shining armor,” Pollux simpers.
When they step out into the lounge, the merriment falls silent. The men have helped themselves to that open bar, but now they all stop and stare, some with drinks suspended halfway to their mouths. Castor has intentionally left his shirt unbuttoned, and he fans himself with a giddy smile on his face.
“Oh, lordy lordy!” he cackles. “I do love me some dancing!”
The men chuckle nervously. Castor glances back at Pollux, who adjusts his glasses with a sheepish smile. He crooks his pinkie at his brother, wags it knowingly, and when Castor turns back to his gang, he’s grinning like the king of the cheshire cats.
“Especially the horizontal mambo,” he smirks.
Annoyed stares from the men. A bleat of laughter from behind him.
Guess which one matters more.
________end.