(no subject)
It was one thing that they were being forced to share a room for the night, one thing that they had to make due with one bed, and almost one thing that Henry didn’t seem to understand that Travis was sleeping on the edge of the goddamn bed for a reason. It was entirely another for Travis to be almost positive that his fucking asshole brother was fucking jacking off right fucking next to him. There was not enough capslock in the world to express his rage at this point.
Travis did what he could to ignore it. To ignore his twin’s increasingly erratic breathing. To ignore the movement of the sheets. To ignore the near-silent half-moan, half-whine that passed through Henry’s slightly parted lips, his face a bit flushed and eyelids drooping just the slightest little bit-
Oh fuck no no no why the hell was he getting hard from this. Travis mentally strung together every goddamn curse he knew, and several he made up as he realized what the mental image of his fucking twin brother who was trying to kill him not three days ago masturbating was actually doing to him. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t believe that this freaky-ass shit was actually happening to him and-
…He could have sworn he just heard… No way he couldn’t have heard… “Travis.” It was scarcely louder than a whisper, but it was definitely, definitely, fucking definitely his name. Holy fuck his brother was fantasizing about him. This was never covered in any of those movies he rented. Never. Ever. Not even touched on, mentioned… Nothing. Fuck.
The next moan was louder, but cut off way too quickly. Bastard probably bit down on his lip to shut himself up finally. Travis could still hear the needy little noises, though. Even if they were muffled, whatever the fuck Henry was thinking about was turning him on enough to make him forget or not care or something that he was willing to let a bit loose. And he was the reason his brother was in such a state. In his increasingly too-tight boxers, Travis’s cock twitched. Fuck, there had to be something wrong with him.
He turned over so he was now facing Henry’s back. And suddenly all the movement, all the noises stopped. Travis could still hear how quickly, shallowly Henry was breathing. How he was just stopping temporarily. As long as he wasn’t facing the other way, Henry wasn’t budging an inch; Travis had to admire his brother’s self-restraint. It was one of the many, many traits they didn’t share.
Travis leaned in closer to his brother until his lips were next to Henry’s ear. “Need a hand, bro?” The Irishman positively blushed, staring up at Travis as best he could out of the corner of his eyes. His hand slid down his brother’s side, fingers delicately - or as delicately as Travis could manage - drifting over Henry’s hip before curling around the other man’s cock.
The panting, the moaning, the gaspy little whimpers… Fuck, it drove Travis crazy, which was saying nothing of the way Henry was pressing himself back against the rather sizable bulge in Travis’s boxers. He was practically gyrating his hips, grinding his ass against Travis’s crotch like some cheap hooker by the time Travis pulled his hand away. Henry shot him a pained look, he knew that face well; same face Shinobu gave him when he beat her, when he beat that Number Six girl Holly. “Relax,” his voice was practically a purr and he could feel his brother shudder beside him. “I’m just getting started…”
Travis woke up drenched in sweat and screaming his fucking head off. Jeane tilted her head, looking slightly concerned, but decided it wasn’t worth caring about her owner at whatever ungodly hour it was and curled back up and went to sleep. “The fuck?!” No. No no no. Not fucking okay! “The fuck was that?!” Oh goddamn he needed a shower. And a drink. A really fucking strong drink. With enough alcohol in it to kill enough brain cells so he’d never have to fucking remember what the hell he was having a dream about.
It wasn’t so much that he was with another man and it, oddly enough, wasn’t so much that it was with a blood relative. It was more that it was his twin brother Sir Henry Mother(brother?)fucker. Sure, he was pretty attractive and he probably was a freak in bed. Someone that reserved just had to be into some weird shit.
…Oh fuck he was not actually rationalizing this. Shower. Shower now.
As the cold water loosened up the gel in his hair making it flop down in his eyes, he vowed to himself that this would never come up in conversation. Not even when he was very, very drunk. He would never, never fucking think about this in any way shape or form ever again. And then it would be like it never happened, right? Right.
---
Wrong. It was so… Wrong. They’d gotten increasingly more vivid over the past several weeks. His dreams, his fantasies, he would almost venture to call them, had gotten so much worse. Henry figured he just had some sort of protective older-sort-of brother complex at first, but now…
It seemed so real. Travis would kick down his bedroom door in the middle of the night, he’d wake up, grab his sword and be prepared for an attack. Because that’s what he would be doing, right? He’d be attacking him. But no, he wouldn’t. He’d cross the room with that little swagger he has, not threatened by Henry’s sword in the slightest. He’d climb onto the bed, and, hell, it would be so strange that he wasn’t attacking that Henry wouldn’t be entirely sure how to react to Travis crawling closer to him. Leaning his head forward. Kissing him…
It wouldn’t seem like Travis at all, this person kissing him was too timid, too gentle to be his brother so it was fine. But as soon as he opened his eyes again, it was Travis, his brother, and he’d be staring into those same blue eyes he himself had.
He’d pull Travis closer then, onto his lap, maybe. They’d kiss again. Less timid this time, more passionate. Travis would try to go farther - he was Travis after all, even when it was with his twin - but Henry never let himself go beyond that. No, just because he crossed the threshold didn’t mean he had to go past the doorframe. Besides, it was more exciting to think that Travis would want him enough to come back for more. And he would come back for more, Henry imagined. Maybe the very next night, maybe in the middle of whatever fight they would have next, maybe he’d force Henry to make the next move. With Travis it was always slightly hard to tell how sadistic he would be in a given situation. And for this situation in particular, at least, there was a substantial part of Henry that wanted to find out. Wanted to find out just how dirty his darling little brother’s mouth could be put to a better use. Wanted to find out how loud Travis would scream his name. Wanted to find out if he really would be as timid as Henry imagined, or if Travis would simply tackle him and demand that Henry fuck him immediately. He wasn’t sure which version he preferred, really.
He knew he should stop thinking like this, but a combination of trainwreck syndrome and… God only knows what fueled his imagination and made each concurrent fantasy just the slightest bit worse. Henry couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow night had in store. Or the next night. Or in a week. Or in a month.
He probably wouldn’t still be doing this in a month. Surely by next month his sick little obsession with his brother would have passed.
…Wouldn’t it?
Travis did what he could to ignore it. To ignore his twin’s increasingly erratic breathing. To ignore the movement of the sheets. To ignore the near-silent half-moan, half-whine that passed through Henry’s slightly parted lips, his face a bit flushed and eyelids drooping just the slightest little bit-
Oh fuck no no no why the hell was he getting hard from this. Travis mentally strung together every goddamn curse he knew, and several he made up as he realized what the mental image of his fucking twin brother who was trying to kill him not three days ago masturbating was actually doing to him. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t believe that this freaky-ass shit was actually happening to him and-
…He could have sworn he just heard… No way he couldn’t have heard… “Travis.” It was scarcely louder than a whisper, but it was definitely, definitely, fucking definitely his name. Holy fuck his brother was fantasizing about him. This was never covered in any of those movies he rented. Never. Ever. Not even touched on, mentioned… Nothing. Fuck.
The next moan was louder, but cut off way too quickly. Bastard probably bit down on his lip to shut himself up finally. Travis could still hear the needy little noises, though. Even if they were muffled, whatever the fuck Henry was thinking about was turning him on enough to make him forget or not care or something that he was willing to let a bit loose. And he was the reason his brother was in such a state. In his increasingly too-tight boxers, Travis’s cock twitched. Fuck, there had to be something wrong with him.
He turned over so he was now facing Henry’s back. And suddenly all the movement, all the noises stopped. Travis could still hear how quickly, shallowly Henry was breathing. How he was just stopping temporarily. As long as he wasn’t facing the other way, Henry wasn’t budging an inch; Travis had to admire his brother’s self-restraint. It was one of the many, many traits they didn’t share.
Travis leaned in closer to his brother until his lips were next to Henry’s ear. “Need a hand, bro?” The Irishman positively blushed, staring up at Travis as best he could out of the corner of his eyes. His hand slid down his brother’s side, fingers delicately - or as delicately as Travis could manage - drifting over Henry’s hip before curling around the other man’s cock.
The panting, the moaning, the gaspy little whimpers… Fuck, it drove Travis crazy, which was saying nothing of the way Henry was pressing himself back against the rather sizable bulge in Travis’s boxers. He was practically gyrating his hips, grinding his ass against Travis’s crotch like some cheap hooker by the time Travis pulled his hand away. Henry shot him a pained look, he knew that face well; same face Shinobu gave him when he beat her, when he beat that Number Six girl Holly. “Relax,” his voice was practically a purr and he could feel his brother shudder beside him. “I’m just getting started…”
Travis woke up drenched in sweat and screaming his fucking head off. Jeane tilted her head, looking slightly concerned, but decided it wasn’t worth caring about her owner at whatever ungodly hour it was and curled back up and went to sleep. “The fuck?!” No. No no no. Not fucking okay! “The fuck was that?!” Oh goddamn he needed a shower. And a drink. A really fucking strong drink. With enough alcohol in it to kill enough brain cells so he’d never have to fucking remember what the hell he was having a dream about.
It wasn’t so much that he was with another man and it, oddly enough, wasn’t so much that it was with a blood relative. It was more that it was his twin brother Sir Henry Mother(brother?)fucker. Sure, he was pretty attractive and he probably was a freak in bed. Someone that reserved just had to be into some weird shit.
…Oh fuck he was not actually rationalizing this. Shower. Shower now.
As the cold water loosened up the gel in his hair making it flop down in his eyes, he vowed to himself that this would never come up in conversation. Not even when he was very, very drunk. He would never, never fucking think about this in any way shape or form ever again. And then it would be like it never happened, right? Right.
---
Wrong. It was so… Wrong. They’d gotten increasingly more vivid over the past several weeks. His dreams, his fantasies, he would almost venture to call them, had gotten so much worse. Henry figured he just had some sort of protective older-sort-of brother complex at first, but now…
It seemed so real. Travis would kick down his bedroom door in the middle of the night, he’d wake up, grab his sword and be prepared for an attack. Because that’s what he would be doing, right? He’d be attacking him. But no, he wouldn’t. He’d cross the room with that little swagger he has, not threatened by Henry’s sword in the slightest. He’d climb onto the bed, and, hell, it would be so strange that he wasn’t attacking that Henry wouldn’t be entirely sure how to react to Travis crawling closer to him. Leaning his head forward. Kissing him…
It wouldn’t seem like Travis at all, this person kissing him was too timid, too gentle to be his brother so it was fine. But as soon as he opened his eyes again, it was Travis, his brother, and he’d be staring into those same blue eyes he himself had.
He’d pull Travis closer then, onto his lap, maybe. They’d kiss again. Less timid this time, more passionate. Travis would try to go farther - he was Travis after all, even when it was with his twin - but Henry never let himself go beyond that. No, just because he crossed the threshold didn’t mean he had to go past the doorframe. Besides, it was more exciting to think that Travis would want him enough to come back for more. And he would come back for more, Henry imagined. Maybe the very next night, maybe in the middle of whatever fight they would have next, maybe he’d force Henry to make the next move. With Travis it was always slightly hard to tell how sadistic he would be in a given situation. And for this situation in particular, at least, there was a substantial part of Henry that wanted to find out. Wanted to find out just how dirty his darling little brother’s mouth could be put to a better use. Wanted to find out how loud Travis would scream his name. Wanted to find out if he really would be as timid as Henry imagined, or if Travis would simply tackle him and demand that Henry fuck him immediately. He wasn’t sure which version he preferred, really.
He knew he should stop thinking like this, but a combination of trainwreck syndrome and… God only knows what fueled his imagination and made each concurrent fantasy just the slightest bit worse. Henry couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow night had in store. Or the next night. Or in a week. Or in a month.
He probably wouldn’t still be doing this in a month. Surely by next month his sick little obsession with his brother would have passed.
…Wouldn’t it?