Fic: What Counts (Jonas Brothers, Nick/Joe, NC-17)
So I think it tells you something about my character that I am in North Carolina for a committee meeting for an national religious organization, and I stayed up until 2am to finish writing underage gay incest porn. Whoops?
Title: What Counts
Fandom: Jonas Brothers RPF
Pairing: Nick/Joe
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage (Nick is 15) incest porn!
Summary: "What do you think counts as being a virgin?" Nick asks.
Notes: 7900 words. Unbetaed. If you find any horrible typos or formatting errors, it's 2am and I wouldn't be terribly surprised, so feel free to point them out. I just wanted to write some porn, but this takes a while to get there.
They always talked about sex a lot. It would have been hard not to, when Nick was still at the age of sudden and unforeseen erections, and their love lives were a topic of public scrutiny anyway. Joe didn’t think it was a big deal, really. Staying a virgin sucked sometimes, but there was plenty of other fun stuff to do without crossing the line, and at least Nick and Kevin were in the same boat. Although when Kevin started dating Danielle, he became pretty tight lipped on the kiss-and-tell front, even with his brothers, which seemed a little unfair to Joe. Because it wasn’t like they got off on hearing about each other’s… whatevers.
Except that sometimes, when Nick was talking about Miley, Joe got a little more excited than he wanted to be, and he had to flop over on his front and prop his head on his fists to hide his hard-on as they lay on Nick’s bed discussing his so-called dates. It was while they were on tour together, and Nick spent hours in Miley’s hotel rooms or on her bus, “hanging out.”
“Wily Miley,” Joe started calling her, because even though Miley was as committed to staying a virgin as they were, her definition was a little more flexible. Nick kept coming back with stuttered stories about the things Miley offered him, some of which Joe had never even done with a girl.
She let Nick feel her up, which Joe took in stride because, hey, he’d had some experience with boobs. And Nick’s inability to say any word meaning “breasts”, turning redder and redder as he explained what had happened, was pretty hilarious.
But then Miley let Nick (or made Nick, it wasn’t totally clear) touch her through her panties, and Joe felt a shiver of mingled envy and heat when he heard that. He imagined Nick’s strong fingers cupping her, stroking her, Nick’s wrist caught in the open fly of her jeans. “She was wet,” Nick whispered, shutting his eyes, and Joe knew that Nick was turned on thinking about it, and he tried to ignore how that made his dick throb even harder against the mattress. “I could feel it. She was all… squishy.”
“Squishy?” Joe asked incredulously.
Nick’s cheeks went beet red and he opened his eyes to glare down the bed. “Shut up. What would you call it?”
Joe poked him in the ribs. “I don’t know, you slut. I’ve never done that.”
Nick looked alarmed and a little sick. “Do you think it’s wrong? Do you think I shouldn’t have?”
Joe settled a hand on Nick’s chest, flexed his fingers in the thin fabric of Nick’s t-shirt. “I think you’re just fine, Nicky,” he said seriously. “Just fine.”
Then, a few weeks later, the beginning of the end - although Joe didn’t know that yet - Nick came through the door to their room pale and flustered, chewing at his bottom lip. The first thing Joe did was get him a juice box and tell Nick to check his levels. The next thing he did was ask what the heck had happened.
Nick chewed his straw and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, in a quiet way that meant he didn’t want to tell.
“Come on,” Joe sighed. “Don’t make me beat it out of you.” He took off his sneaker and held it up menacingly.
Nick rolled his eyes.
“Seriously, it would be child abuse, and they’d send me to jail. I’m too pretty for jail.”
Nick’s smile was hesitant, but it was a start. He took a deep breath. “She just… I didn’t know… what was I supposed to do?”
“You have to give me more to go on here.” It was always weird to see Nick flustered, to see him acting his age, all his calm rationality scraped away.
“We were, you know.” He waved a hand. “And she said I could,” he leaned in confidentially, but no words came out.
Joe made a “go on” gesture.
“In her butt,” Nick said, and it took Joe a second to piece the interrupted sentence together and get what Nick was saying, and less than a second after that for his dick to go startlingly, dizzyingly hard. Joe rocked forward in his chair, squeezing his legs together so Nick wouldn’t see.
“Seriously?”
“She said it didn’t count. Doing it like that.” Nick sucked at the little juicebox straw, looking at the floor between them, his hair falling messily around his face. Joe imagined Miley’s fingers in it, nails scrabbling against Nick’s scalp as he moved in her, fucked her.
“So did you?” Joe asked impatiently, his head all full of the vision of his little brother on top of her, skinny hips pumping, cheeks flushed like they were now. He thought he’d know if Nick had, thought there would have been something on Nick’s face to give it away the minute he walked through the door. Joe was pretty sure he knew his brother that well. But he needed to be absolutely certain.
“No,” Nick said vehemently, and the clumsy ache in Joe’s chest eased. “I wouldn’t do that,” he added, mistaking Joe’s sigh of relief for something having to do with morals. “It would be cheating, trying to get around the promise I made to God, to myself.” Nick was so earnest and sincere sometimes Joe just wanted to wrap him up and keep him out of the world, away from everything that could make him cynical. He imagined launching himself at Nick, wrapping his arms around him and holding him until he couldn’t breathe. But it wouldn’t have had the same effect with Joe’s dick straining hard in his jeans.
“Bet Wily Miley wasn’t too happy about that.”
“I don’t know. I left. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I couldn’t, you know.” Joe flashed on it again, that image of Nick over her, in her, the flex of his shoulders, the slick parting of his lips. He didn’t imagine Miley, but he could see Nick clear as day in his mind. And that wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. Wasn’t how you were supposed to love your little brother.
***
It’s a couple of months later, and Miley is ancient history as far as they’re concerned, even if there seems to be endless tabloid mileage in it. But Joe can’t stop imagining all the things Nick didn’t do with her, wondering how he would look with his face slack in orgasm, his back glistening with sweat. Sometimes when Joe’s jerking off, getting knife’s-edge close, he lets himself think what it would be like to sink into Nick like that, nuzzle into the soft hair at the nape of his neck and hold him while he comes. He feels guilty about it afterwards, a heavy weight in his stomach, but he can’t stop it popping into his head.
It’s worse when Nick says, “What do you think counts as being a virgin?” out of the blue in a hotel room in Indiana, with the lights off and neither of them sleepy in their beds. Joe shivers down to his toes.
“If you’re worried you accidentally deflowered yourself in the shower this morning, you can rest easy.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” says Nick. “I’m serious.”
“When are you not serious?” Joe shifts, rests a hand high on his thigh under the covers, fingers splayed around the sudden fullness of his dick.
“I just think about it, you know. I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. With girls. Because I, you know, I want things. I want them a lot.” Joe squeezes gently at his dick, his heart pounding double-time at Nick’s tone of quiet confession.
“That’s normal though, Nicky,” Joe says, in his serious big brother voice. “That’s just how puberty is. We all want things. And after Miley practically begged you for it, it’s pretty clear you know what you’re doing.”
“But I was tempted. I wanted to.” He says “tempted” in this way that puts Joe right back in church, Dad telling the congregation that the path to righteousness is laid with many snares, that the right choice is rarely the easy one. Guilt gnaws at him, and his dick wilts a little.
“That’s because you’re not a robot. But you didn’t do it, so.”
“So you think it counts?”
“Probably. Come on, why are you so worried about this? It’s over. You persevered.”
“But next time, what if I don’t?”
“Do you really have girls throwing themselves at you that often, asking you to do them up the butt? Because, man, I get marriage proposals, but that’s a new one.”
“No, I… I don’t know. I just think about it. More than I want to. More than I should. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”
“Nick, contrary to popular belief, you are not actually forty. Stop beating yourself up.” He chucks an extra pillow at Nick’s bed, hears it land with a satisfying thwap.
“Jerk,” Nick says sulkily, heaving the pillow back. It hits Joe in the thigh, and there’s only so much he can take. He rolls out of bed and launches himself onto Nick, hands clawed to tickle him through the covers. Nicks shrieks, high and ear piercing, and then shushes himself, stifling his giggles and hissing, “Joe, stop,” in a voice that would sound way more authoritative if it weren’t shaky with laughter.
Joe works one hand under the comforter and pinches at Nick’s side, just above his hip where the skin is childishly soft and smooth. Nick’s shirt has ridden up, and it’s so easy to keep surprising him with little finger strokes, making him yelp and slap uselessly at Joe’s hands. Finally Joe flops down breathless on top of him, burying his face in the side of Nick’s neck. He’s worn out and guiltily turned on and still he feels stupidly happy pressed against Nick like this. “You’re a terrible brother,” Nick says, trying to tickle him back.
“Whatever. I am the best brother.” He blows a raspberry against Nick’s collarbone, and Nick punches him in the shoulder. Joe laughes, big and whole-hearted. “They are going to give me a best brother award someday and you will weep - weep, Nicholas - with how wrong you were.”
“Uh-huh,” says Nick, and his breath is warm across Joe’s cheek. Joe knows he should move because even through three layers of blankets, Nick’s eventually going to figure out that Joe isn’t hiding a flashlight in his shorts. But he feels bonelessly comfortable, Nick’s hand coming up to rest in the center of Joe’s back, his fingertips lined up along Joe’s spine. “You’re heavy,” Nick tells him after a while, but he doesn’t try to push Joe off. So Joe stays.
And the next thing he knows, it’s three a.m. and his back is cold but his front is warm, and it takes him a second to realize he’s still on Nick’s bed, on top of the covers and halfway on top of Nick. He heaves himself off and tucks in under the blankets at Nick’s side, too sleepy to stumble back to his own bed. They’ve fallen asleep like this too many times to count, and it’s easy for Joe to drift off to the soft, steady huff of Nick’s breath beside him.
***
The next day Joe is trying to help Kevin with his sudoku on the bus, which Kevin doesn’t seem to appreciate. “Joe, my desire to stick this pencil up your nose is starting to overwhelm my love for you. Go bother Nick.”
Nick, who’s been on the opposite couch playing the same chord progression for the past half hour, sighs, “Please don’t bother Nick.” He’s been working on bits of songs all day, killing time while they do repairs on the studio bus.
“What is wrong with you people?” Joe says, stomping his foot for emphasis. “You call yourselves my brothers, and yet you let me languish in boredom.”
“Languish,” says Nick, rolling it out long. “Languish. That’s a good word.” He goes back to his chord progression, picking up the pace a little.
“I have more sudoku,” Kevin offers, holding up his book. “You could have one of your very own.”
“I like yours better.”
“Sometimes I think that’s your whole life philosophy,” Nick tells him with a little smile, and Joe feels suddenly annoyed, even though Nick clearly didn’t mean it mean.
“Whatever. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me in St. Louis.”
“Wake me in St. Louis,” Nick sings, “wake me at the fair.” He winks at Joe, and Joe grins back. No hard feelings, and a stupid old movie song to prove it.
Joe goes to the back lounge and lies down on the big squashy couch, which is at least three times the size of his bunk. He closes his eyes, but he’s too wired to sleep, has been since the start of the tour pretty much. They’re playing huge shows every night, crisscrossing the country so fast Joe feels lost half the time. It’s exciting and he loves it and he loves getting up on stage with his brothers and looking out at all those screaming strangers. But the part where they spend so much time cooped up on a bus he could do without. He gets up and does some jumping jacks, ignoring the fact that he looks like an idiot when Nick pokes his head in and says, “We should get you a hamster wheel.”
“Hey, they got you a bus with a recording studio in it. Anything’s possible.” He wraps Nick in a slightly sweaty hug, and Nick hugs him back.
“I’ll suggest it.”
Joe thinks he should probably let go, but Nick is still hanging on to him, his chin on Joe’s shoulder. “You okay, kiddo?” Joe asks.
“Yeah,” Nick replies. “I’ll be glad when they have the bus fixed so we can get back to work.”
“Sounds good to me.” He reaches up to stroke Nick’s hair, rubbing his fingers through the curls at the back of his head.
“Hey, Joe,” Nick adds softly. “Is it weird that I like it when you sleep with me?”
Joe nearly chokes. “Uhh,” he says, and Nick tenses a little. Joe keeps stroking his hair. “I like it, too,” he confesses, knowing that Nick can’t possibly mean it like Joe means it. It hurts a little, a raw ache behind his ribs, in his throat, but it’s better. It’s better that Nick never knows.
And then Nick lifts his head and kisses Joe full on the mouth. His lips linger damply, and Joe is too shocked to react, his limbs locked suddenly stiff.
Nick rests his head on Joe’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers miserably.
“No,” Joe says. “No, no, no.” He slides his hand to the back of Nick’s neck, tilts Nick’s head up, and bends to kiss his little brother like he’s wanted to do for months. It’s terrible and perfect and Nick makes a startled little noise and opens his mouth before Joe’s even thought about getting that far. He licks Nick’s lower lip, sucks at the fullness of it and feels Nick shiver in his arms.
Kevin says something to the driver up at the front of the bus and Nick jumps backwards, pressing himself against the wall, his eyes wide. His mouth is dark pink and smeared wet, and Joe has never felt so hungry in his life. Nick sees him staring and blushes to the tips of his ears. Joe takes a hesitant step toward him, but Nick shakes his head. “Joe. You can’t.”
Joe proves him wrong, leaning Nick into the wall and kissing him again, telling himself that if Nick says, “Stop,” he will. Nick doesn’t say stop. Nick kisses him deeply, tongue sliding hot against Joe’s, one hand on Joe’s face, thumb stroking the hinge of Joe’s jaw. He crowds into Nick’s space, wrapping around him and pinning him in place, and Nick goes with it, lets it happen instead of saying something reasonable about how totally and completely wrong this is. Somewhere in the back of Joe’s mind he knows he shouldn’t be making out with his brother in the back of a tour bus, but all the doubt and guilt feels distant compared to Nick’s open mouth, the way his fingers tremble against Joe’s skin.
Nick is hard. Joe can feel the jut of it against his thigh, imagines laying Nick out on the couch and stroking him until he comes, can almost feel the slide of Nick’s dick through the circle of his hand. But when he tries to steer Nick away from the wall by his belt loops, Nick breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says, so Joe doesn’t, glancing between Nick’s slack puffy lips and the confusion in his eyes.
Joe takes a step back, and Nick digs his hands into his pockets self-consciously. “You want to play some Guitar Hero?” Joe asks, because he has no idea what else to say.
Nick gives him the familiar squinty look that means he thinks Joe’s nuts. “Now?”
“Unless you really want to talk right now.”
Nick purses his lips, then shakes his head. “Let’s play.”
***
They play a great show in St. Louis, one of the best yet, and Joe can’t stop grinning afterward, especially when he looks at Kevin and sees that he can’t stop either. Nick doesn’t grin except in little flashes when he forgets himself, but even he looks thoroughly happy. After the tension of the bus ride and the electrical glitches at soundcheck, it feels so good to give the audience exactly what they want. Joe wants to dance and turn cartwheels and hug everyone in the world (but especially Nick). For a little while, all the weirdness goes away, and they’re brothers and they’re a band and it’s perfect.
And then Dad hands him and Nick keys to a single hotel room, just like usual, and Joe’s stomach seems to bob up into his throat.
“Do you want the first shower?” Nick asks in the elevator, and his voice is almost normal, except for a little tremor underneath.
“Sure. Thanks.”
Joe takes his time in the shower, scrubbing off the night’s sweat and hair gel, wondering guiltily if he should jerk off or if maybe Nick will do that for him. For one hot moment, he imagines Nick climbing into the shower with him, slick bare skin and calloused fingers, and after that he pretty much has to jerk off. It doesn’t take more than a few strokes before he’s spattering the wall under the showerhead with come, thick, ropy strings of white against the blue tile. He watches the slow drip of it for a second before washing it away.
When Joe comes out of the bathroom with one towel around his waist and another thrown over his wet hair, he can feel Nick watching him, like electricity on his skin. Nick’s sitting on the end of the bed by the window, the TV turned to CNN. “I was starting to think you’d drowned,” Nick says.
“No way. If you thought I’d drowned, you would have come to save me.”
“Maybe. Are you done now?” He sounds annoyed, but when Joe turns to look, there’s this new kind of heat in Nick’s eyes.
“Yes, Nicholas, I’m done.” Joe waits until Nick shuts the bathroom door before changing into boxers and an old t-shirt. He turns off the TV and gets into the other bed, and then he waits. Because something has to happen. It has to.
His heart jumps when the shower shuts off, but he pretends to be asleep as Nick emerges in a cloud of steam.
“Joe?” Nick says quietly. “Are you awake?”
Joe slits one eye open. “Yeah.” Nick’s holding his towel in white-knuckled fingers, like it might run away if he doesn’t. His hair’s hanging in ringlets around his face, and in the glow of the bedside lamp, he looks pale and incredibly young. Joe remembers when Nick got so skinny, scary skinny, when Joe spent so much time looking out for him, cataloguing the feel of every joint and prominent rib. It’s nothing like how he wants to touch Nick now, and that comes with a fresh jolt of guilt. “Don’t do anything you don’t want,” Joe tells him, and Nick shuts his eyes and shifts his towel. Joe can see the thick bulge of his dick under the cloth, and there are so many things he wants to do.
“But it’s not just about what I want.” Nick is such a good kid, better than Joe will ever be in some ways, with this crystal clear sense of right and wrong. Except that right now he sounds so mixed up, hurt and unhappy. “What am I supposed to do?” Nick asks, and Joe doesn’t even know if it’s a question for him or for God. And he definitely doesn’t have an answer.
It seems like a really long time before Nick looks at him again, a hard, considering look now. His skin is all over gooseflesh, and he must be cold. Joe wants to pull him down, hold him, rub him warm again, but it’s not that simple. He makes a decision. “Put some clothes on, Nick.”
Nick licks his lips. “Yeah. Okay.” Joe turns off the light and closes his eyes, as if there’s any way he can sleep now. He hears the rustle of Nick changing, the clink of his dog tags, the shuffle of his feet. “Can I…” Nick asks, coming up next to Joe’s bed. Joe scoots over to make room, welcomes the press of Nick’s damp curls against his cheek, cold toes on his ankle as Nick curls into him.
“I love you, Nicky,” Joe says.
Nick’s lips move against the side of Joe’s neck. “I love you, too.” Joe thinks maybe that’s it, but then Nick leans up until his mouth meets Joe’s in a clumsy, tentative kiss. His tongue flickers against Joe’s lower lip, and Joe has to stifle a moan. Nick smells like hotel shampoo and tastes like toothpaste, and he digs his fingers into the back of Joe’s head, pulling up to kiss him more deeply. Their teeth meet with a click, and Joe bends his head until they match up right again. His lips feel full and tender when Nick finally lifts his head, their noses touching in the dark. “Want you so much,” Nick whispers, desperate and shaky, and Joe shivers, suddenly hot all over.
“Yeah,” he agrees, slipping one leg between Nick’s, bending his knee until the top of his thigh nudges Nick’s balls. Nick hitches a breath, his hips stuttering down into Joe’s. His dick is a hot, hard line against Joe’s hip, the slick heat of precome leaking through his shorts, sticky on Joe’s skin. He pants into Joe’s mouth, barely even kissing him now. Joe slides a hand down Nick’s back, resting just above the curve of his ass, pressing him gently down, encouraging his little wriggling thrusts.
“Joe,” Nick moans, and just like that it’s over, Nick rocking into him, Nick’s come squishy and hot between them. “Sorry,” he groans, and Joe kisses him, wet and hungry and deep, sucking at Nick’s lips, biting at them, hugging Nick tight until he goes limp in Joe’s arms, emptied out.
Joe strokes down the sweaty length of his spine, Nick sniffling into his shoulder. “I’ve never,” Nick says, and Joe can feel the wetness of tears trickling down the side of his neck.
“You’re okay,” Joe whispers. “You’re okay.” He means it as much as he’s ever meant anything. And it would be easy for Nick to argue, but he just clings until he falls asleep, his legs tangled with Joe’s.
***
“What do you think counts as being a virgin?” Nick asks again in Austin, and the question has a different sound when it’s asked by someone who’s been humping Joe’s leg until he comes practically every night across the Midwest. They’re spooned together in another hotel bed, bellies full of late-night room service omelets, Joe nuzzling lazily at Nick’s hair.
Joe knits their fingers tighter together, their rings clinking softly. “When a man and a woman love each other very much, and they want to have a baby…”
Nick kicks him in the shin. “Let’s say hypothetically not a man and a woman.”
“Hypothetically,” Joe echoes, turned on and not even hiding it, his dick rubbing slow against Nick’s ass. Sometimes Nick still looks guilty, like he realizes exactly how far he’s fallen, and Joe feels sick to his stomach when he sees that. But mostly he’s happy, and he thinks Nick is too, and that’s all he really wants. Or almost all. “Like, if I sucked you off right now, would you still be a virgin?”
Nick’s breath hitches, and his stomach tightens under their clasped hands. “Yeah,” Nick says shakily. “Like that.”
Joe drags their hands down, cups Nick through his jeans. “Maybe we should try it and find out.” Joe never thought he’d want to do that, but right now his mouth is practically watering just imagining it.
Nick rocks forward against his own palm. “Seriously?”
Joe tips Nick onto his back and leans over him, untangling their hands to run his fingers up the fly of Nick’s jeans. “Seriously.”
“I don’t know if that’s… oh.” Joe unzips Nick’s jeans and reaches into Nick’s boxers, rubbing his thumb over the plump head of Nick’s dick. Nick’s barely even let him touch, except through clothes, and Joe feels reckless with the opportunity. He wraps his hand around Nick’s shaft, circling a little, learning the feel of Nick’s skin, and Nick moans as his hips come off the bed. It’s been great, rubbing off against Nick, moving against him until they’re both sticky and wrung out, but it’s not like this.
“Get these off, okay?” Joe says, fumbling at the waistband of Nick’s jeans, his boxers, pulling them down until they’re hobbling Nick’s knees, and it would look ridiculous if Nick’s cock weren’t the hottest thing Joe has ever seen, all stiff and pink, surrounded by little dark curls of hair around the base, with the flushed shadow of his balls below. “Nick,” he breathes out, not even sure what to do first. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Nick says shakily, and Joe huffs out a surprised laugh, like that’s the sin he should be most worried about right now. Nick’s eyes are dark and glazed with want as Joe looks up. “Are you gonna?”
“Yeah.” Joe slides down the bed to find a comfortable angle, eye-level with Nick’s bellybutton. Nick’s dick is jerking a little with every breath he takes, and Joe reaches out a hand for it again, wrapping it in his fist and stroking up once, slow. Nick’s dick is skinnier than his, fills up his hand differently, but Joe knows Nick’s still growing. He leans in to press his tongue to the slit, a tentative taste, salt and skin. Nick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Joe looks up to see Nick biting his lip, his eyes already frantic with need. He tries another taste, a slow circle around the head with his tongue. Nick’s hips jump, his cock smudging precome over Joe’s lips, and Joe lays a hand across the softness of Nick’s belly to hold him in place.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he pretends, remembering every second of scrambled cable porn he can and folding his lips over his teeth as he dips to take Nick into his mouth. Just the head to start, then farther down, Nick’s cock gliding over the roof of his mouth, smooth until he gags, has to pull back and start again. Nick doesn’t seem to mind, making high, grated out noises and wriggling beneath Joe’s restraining hand. His dick is leaking precome like a fountain, fat drops welling up and spilling over as Joe watches, mesmerized. He’s never seen a dick this close, not even his own, never watched every spurt and drip and shiver the way he can with Nick. He forgets blowing Nick for a minute and just explores, trails his thumb around the base and up the thick vein on the underside, cups his hand low to feel the tight fullness of Nick’s balls, hot and nearly hairless. Joe licks down between them, then sucks one into his mouth, pushing at the thin skin with his tongue. Nick moans, and Joe edges down even farther, digs one knuckle into the soft, sensitive spot behind Nick’s balls as he mouths his way back up to the salty-wet head of Nick’s dick. “You ever do it like this?” Joe asks, rocking his finger towards Nick’s asshole.
“No,” Nick sighs, trying to spread his legs wider for Joe’s hand, all tied up with his jeans and shorts. It’s a tight fit back between Nick’s cheeks, but Joe can’t seem to stop touching him, the tip of his finger pressing at the quivering heat of Nick’s hole, stroking there and feeling the flex of tight muscle. Nick’s gonna let him in here, Joe knows it now with a certainty that makes his balls ache. But not tonight. Tonight he just takes Nick’s dick into his mouth as far as he can, sucks it wet and sloppy. He keeps his finger pressed in close against Nick’s hole, and Nick comes in his mouth in a matter of moments, bucking his hips and whimpering apologies. Joe swallows every thick, sticky drop he can, chases those he can’t with his tongue, Nick shivering and sensitive for every last lick. “Joe,” Nick says hoarsely, lifting his head to stare, his eyes fixed on Joe’s lips, which feel puffy and numb.
Joe doesn’t ask permission to kiss him, letting Nick suck the taste of his own come off Joe’s tongue as Joe rubs off against Nick’s hip.
“Tomorrow night I can blow you,” Nick says sleepily, always with a sense of fairness.
“Dang right you can,” Joe agrees, tangling his fingers in Nick’s hair as he falls asleep.
***
The next night is Dallas, and they have almost 36 hours to spend at home afterwards, which is both awesome and weird. Mom makes pancakes when they get back from the show, and Joe can’t stop looking around their house, all full of their furniture and their pictures and their tangle of old gaming systems under the TV in the living room. “You know, guys,” Mom says, “just because we have a day off tomorrow doesn’t mean you have to stay up until five in the morning.” But then Nick fires up Donkey Kong on the SuperNintendo that’s older than he is, and Joe can’t resist.
Kevin watches them play for a while, scores Joe some bonus points on the puzzles, even though Nick tries to call foul. What Joe really wants to know is what’s going to happen next, but he can’t ask, not with Kevin yelling instructions at the TV screen and Nick focusing all his attention on a pixilated monkey, his eyebrows knit in concentration. Pretty soon it’s 3 a.m. and Kevin says goodnight and heads off to his room. They’re only halfway through a level, but as soon as Kevin’s out of earshot Nick turns off the game without even saving, and turns to Joe with a serious look on his face. Joe wonders whether he’s found the one thing that motivates Nick more than competition. “Joseph,” Nick says, cocky and teasing, “I believe I was going to blow you.”
Joe licks his lips and adjusts himself in his sweats. “I believe you were, Nicholas.”
Joe holds his eyes, and whatever nerve Nick worked up seems to desert him. He swallows. “So do you want me to do that now?”
“I want you to do whatever you want.”
Nick leans in close, blushing as he whispers, “I want to blow you.” He sounds sincere, turned on and a little apprehensive. “I really want to.”
Joe is a little afraid he’s going to come right here, just hearing Nick say it, Nick’s hot breath skating across his ear. “My bed is bigger than yours,” Joe says urgently. “Come on.”
Nick follows him.
***
Joe’s kind of hazy the next morning, and he thinks this must be what being drunk feels like, floaty and distracted. He keeps looking at Nick’s mouth and remembering how full and pink Nick’s lips looked stretched around his dick, all the wet little slurping noises he made trying to take Joe in deeper. He watches Nick lick instant oatmeal off his spoon, and thinks of Nick licking come from the corners of his mouth. Everything Nick does today makes Joe want to drag him off and… something. And Nick obviously knows it. He’s so flushed at breakfast Mom asks if he has a fever, and he keeps giving Joe these little sideways looks from under his eyelashes. But they’re surrounded all morning, and Joe normally doesn’t mind never being away from his family, but right now the only family he wants is Nick.
Frankie digs the croquet set out of the garage and hassles them all into setting it up in the backyard after lunch. Joe can’t help but find croquet hilarious on principle, so he puts on a fake mustache and insists on talking in a hoity-toity British accent as they play. Nick whacks him in the shin with his mallet before the third wicket. “Very unsporting, old chap,” Joe hisses, clutching at his ankle.
Kevin wins, in a shocking come-from-behind victory, and his victory dance spans the entire length of the backyard. Nick doesn’t even look mad that he lost, and Joe loves seeing him laugh like this, big and open. It’s a good kind of day so far.
When Kevin’s done moonwalking across the patio, Mom asks what else they want to do with their day off. Nick raises his eyebrows at Joe, and Joe accidentally twirls his mustache so hard it comes off. “I’m happy just chilling here,” he says, picking at the spirit gum stuck to his finger.
“I have some songs I want to work on,” Nick adds. Joe thinks about Nick practicing his fingering and goes hot all over. Everybody else is talking, making plans, but Joe’s just staring at Nick’s hand, wrapped loosely around his mallet and stroking a little.
He doesn’t really expect that he and Nick will actually get the house to themselves, even when Kevin pulls out his phone to start checking movie show times. It’s more good luck than Joe can actually contemplate until the door closes and there’s sudden, amazing silence. Three hours with no one in the house to look forward to.
“So,” Nick says, looking at the guitar in his lap instead of at Joe. “I could keep working, or we could do something else.”
“I know you don’t like to have your creative process interrupted,” Joe replies solemnly, leaning in to strum tonelessly at the guitar until Nick stills the strings with his hand. “But I’m up for some something else.”
“Yeah.” Nick bites his lip. “Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll be right there? I have to,” he makes a meaningless hand motion.
Joe repeats the motion, and Nick blushes. “Okay. Is it a surprise? Do you want me to cover my eyes?”
“Just go. I’ll be right there.” Nick tugs the guitar case over and closes his notebook. He obviously has a plan - Nick always has a plan - and whatever it is this time, Joe’s pretty confident he’s going to like it.
Once Joe gets upstairs he’s not sure what to do with himself, turned on and giddy with expectation. He thinks about undressing, lying in bed with his dick out and ready by the time Nick gets there. He could smile all coy and say, “Well, Nicholas, fancy meeting you here.” But he doesn’t want to make Nick more nervous by goofing around. It still feels new, doing all this stuff, because even though the tour makes time seem squished and stretched in weird ways, it’s only been a couple of weeks since the first time Nick kissed him. And in the normal world, a couple of weeks isn’t even long enough to get to second base.
Joe hears water running in the bathroom and sniffs his pits experimentally, wondering whether Nick has the right idea. But with only the shared bathroom, there’s not a whole lot Joe can do about it. And they’re probably just going to get sweaty again anyway. Joe kicks off his sneakers and throws his socks in the direction of the closet. Nick’s still in the bathroom, so Joe pops a tic-tac and paces a few times around the room, then takes off his t-shirt to flex in front of the mirror. He tries standing like those guys on the cover of Mom’s romance novels, puffing his chest out and giving a smoldering and seductive look at his reflection. Which is of course what Nick sees him doing when he opens the door.
Nick looks deer-in-headlights shocked, his eyes skating over Joe’s bare chest in a way that makes Joe feel suddenly self-conscious. “Oh,” Nick says, rocking backwards a little, like he wasn’t expecting such close range. He’s got all his clothes on, and his cheeks are flushed. “What are you doing?”
“Making a fool of myself,” says Joe cheerfully, reaching out a hand to draw Nick into the room. His fingers hit just above Nick’s hip, and Nick takes a shuddery little breath. Joe imagines dropping to his knees right there and getting his mouth around Nick’s dick, which is already pushing out the front of his pants. He gets as far as the top button on Nick’s fly before Nick stops him.
“I want to try something,” Nick says, and Joe realizes he’s holding something in his hand: a plastic bottle. Understanding hits Joe like a punch to the gut, and his dick throbs and his breath comes out in a surprised gasp.
“Where did you get that?”
Nick’s blush deepens. “Kevin keeps it under the sink. He probably thinks no one knows it’s there.”
Joe doesn’t speculate too much on why Kevin has lube hidden in the bathroom. “Are you sure?”
“Sure about where I got this? Yeah.” His nervous smile flickers on and off like a bad light bulb. “Sure about anything else? Not as much.”
Joe wraps his arms around Nick’s waist, tugging him in close, Nick’s breath hot on Joe’s neck as he leans into it. “You don’t have to do anything,” Joe says quietly. “Anything you want is just fine.”
Nick sighs. “You say that like that makes it easier.” His hips hitch forward against Joe’s, and Joe can feel how hard he is. “I want it so much. Joe, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. And that just makes it so much worse.” He rocks into Joe again, and Joe rubs a hand up Nick’s back, digging his fingers into the tense curve of Nick’s spine. Joe knows he doesn’t feel these things the way Nick does, knows his moral compass doesn’t turn quite true. There’s nothing he can think to say, but he gives okay backrubs. He makes it as far as Nick’s shoulders and presses more deeply into the tight muscle there. Nick takes a deep breath, relaxing into him.
They stand like that for a long time, Joe working his fingers up the back of Nick’s skull, Nick’s shallow breaths tickling against Joe’s bare shoulder. And then Nick thumbs open the button on Joe’s fly. “Nick?” Joe says uncertainly, and Nick looks up.
“I love you,” says Nick, words that have always come so easy for both of them, edged with desperation.
“I love you, too.” Joe tips Nick’s face up to kiss him, parting Nick’s lips with his tongue, licking into the heat of Nick’s mouth. Joe tugs him along, stepping backwards and narrowly avoiding tripping over his shoes on his way to the bed. He pulls Nick down, and Nick comes, landing halfway on top of Joe with a startled “mmph.” He drops the lube, and Joe feels new heat curling in his belly just from the thought that he might be able to get into Nick that way. Nick breaks the kiss, and Joe wonders whether he did something wrong, but then Nick is pulling at his own clothes, and Joe is hungry for every pale, smooth inch of his brother’s skin as it’s revealed. He shucks down his own pants and underwear and watches Nick’s eyes following the bob of his dick. He wraps a hand around it, strokes himself once, and Nick swallows hard.
Nick’s cock is heavy and full against his belly, and Joe thinks just how little it would take to make Nick come right now. Just a couple of licks to the leaking head, a little pressure around the shaft, the kind of slow squeeze he knows Nick likes best. Joe sits up, reaching out for him, but Nick takes his hand, stops it. “I’ll come,” Nick says.
“I thought that was the point.”
Nick picks up the lube carefully, like it might explode. “I want you to,” he says, holding it out, and Joe’s hands shake a little as he takes it. He doesn’t know anything about how to do it right, how to make it good for Nick, but Nick’s looking at him all trusting and wanting and scared, and Joe can’t not.
“Lie down.” Joe says it with more confidence than he feels, and Nick stretches out on the bed beside him. His toes curl in the old red comforter, and Joe reaches out to lay a hand on his belly, the soft, vulnerable place under his bellybutton, and Nick shuts his eyes. His dick dribbles out a little thread of precome, and Joe catches it as it falls, brings his fingers to his mouth to lick the taste of Nick off them. He leans in to kiss Nick’s mouth, the corner of his jaw, the fluttering pulse just underneath. Nick bends his head up, baring his throat, and Joe has this reckless urge to bite him there, mark the pale stretch of Nick’s skin. He uses his tongue instead, licks a thin line down to Nick’s collarbone, then farther, open mouth sliding down Nick’s chest, teasing one pink nipple to a tense little point. He lets himself bite a little, because no one’s going to see this part of Nick anyway, and Nick makes this high, desperate sound at the first graze of Joe’s teeth. Joe switches sides, leaning across to get at Nick’s other nipple, and Nick sets a tentative hand on Joe’s head, fingers twitching when Joe bites down again.
Joe finds all Nick’s noises fascinating, little moans and sighs and bitten-off exclamations, and by the time he makes his way back up to kiss Nick’s mouth, Nick is a panting, whimpering mess. His hand fists tighter in Joe’s hair, dragging him into a deep kiss, and Joe stretches his own hand down to stroke the straining length of Nick’s cock. He could make Nick come like this so easy, but that’s not what Nick asked for. Joe backs off and reaches out for the lube.
Nick stops him. “Wait,” he says, taking Joe’s hand and working Joe’s ring off his finger, followed by his own. He cups them in his palm, squeezes his hand tight around them before setting them on the nightstand. “We can put them back on, after, but I just, this means something. Doing it with you means something.” Nick holds his eyes, even though he’s blushing hot across his cheeks. Joe’s hand feels funny without the ring, and he’s both humbled and so turned on he can’t breathe at the thought of what Nick’s giving him. He’s pretty sure he can’t possibly deserve it, but Nick has always been more than Joe deserves. “Okay?” Nick asks nervously, because Joe’s still staring at him.
“You’re perfect,” he replies, and kisses the corner of Nick’s mouth.
The lube is cool and slippery on Joe’s fingers, and he rubs it around, just getting a feel for it before he slips his hand down between Nick’s thighs. Nick is watching Joe’s face, but as Joe slides his first finger down behind Nick’s balls, he shuts his eyes, rocking up towards Joe’s hand, spreading a little wider. Joe touches his hole, rubs over the tight center, not even trying to go in yet, just feeling the clench of it. He thinks there should be something he can say to make this easier, but he doesn’t know what. Nick is trembling, and his dick is heavy and swollen against his belly, leaking a steady stream of precome there. Nick wants it, and now Joe just has to figure out how to give it to him.
He coats his first two fingers again, then touches the middle one to Nick’s hole, pressing a little and feeling Nick open up for him for the first time. Nick’s little hole stretches around his fingertip, and Nick makes a pained noise. But Joe’s in now, so he stays, wiggling his finger in a little deeper and feeling Nick’s muscles flex around him. He smears more lube around with his thumb, works so, so slowly in until Nick starts to relax for him, slick heat up to Joe’s second knuckle. “How is it?” Joe asks, dribbling more lube over his fingers, working one finger in as far as he can and waiting.
“Weird,” Nick replies, shifting a little on Joe’s hand. “They say if you” - he makes a crooking motion with his fingers, which Joe echoes without meaning to, finger curving in Nick’s ass. Nick gasps, his hole twitching, so Joe does it again, a slower stroke this time. Nick’s thighs tremble and his dick forces out a thick spurt of precome.
“Whoever ‘they’ are, I think they’re right,” Joe says.
“Yeah,” Nick agrees on a sigh, and he’s loosening up a little every time Joe moves in him, so Joe slicks more lube down around Nick’s hole and tries a second finger. It doesn’t go at first, too much too soon, but then Nick lets out a breath and does something that lets Joe in, two fingers sliding deep, held by the snug heat of Nick’s hole. “Move,” Nick whispers, so Joe does, stroking in and out of him, adding more lube to ease the glide as Nick starts rocking his hips to meet Joe’s rhythm. Joe is hard as steel, too close to coming already as he watches Nick fucking himself on Joe’s fingers, Nick’s face scrunched up in an expression Joe doesn’t even recognize. “Feels so good,” Nick says, low and hoarse, and Joe twists his fingers, making a space for himself in Nick’s ass, feeling every shiver from the inside. “Think you should,” Nick starts, and his mouth forms the ‘f’ in ‘fuck me,’ but he wouldn’t be Nick if he could get the words out.
“Think I should, too,” Joe tells him, pressing kisses to Nick’s full, bitten lips as he drags his fingers out of Nick’s hole.
Slicking lube over his dick is pure torture, even the pressure of his own hand threatening to wreck his control. He isn’t going to last. But Nick doesn’t seem to mind, lifting his knees wider as Joe settles on top of him, giving Joe a perfect view of the little pink mouth of his hole. It looks so small, feels impossibly tight as Joe presses the tip of his cock to it. He doesn’t want to push, held just outside the tight rim, but Nick arches up into him and murmurs, “Please,” and Joe’s self control is no match for that. He pushes the head of his dick into Nick’s ass, holding himself there for a moment before sliding in more deeply, the slick heat of Nick’s insides parting for him, making it easy once he’s past that first squeeze of resistance.
Nick makes a small, surprised sound when Joe’s all the way in, his balls resting hot between the cheeks of Nick’s ass. Eyes closed, Nick reaches down to touch the rim of his hole, the thin skin stretched taut around Joe’s cock. “You’re in me,” he says wonderingly, stroking the place where they join, hot and messy with lube. “I can feel you.”
Joe groans, can’t help it, and Nick looks up, eyes clear and dark and awed. “Let me,” Joe says, and Nick nods, closing his eyes again as Joe starts to move in him, fucking him deep and as slow as he can bear. There’s pressure building in his balls, coiling up his spine, and he grabs for Nick’s dick because he needs Nick to get there first. Joe twists his hand around the shaft, pulls up slow to smear the whole thing wet. Nick tightens down around him and sparks start to go off behind Joe’s eyes. He’s too close, but he keeps stroking Nick’s dick, focusing on the way Nick trembles between Joe’s hand and his cock.
Joe still comes first, helpless and shuddering, flooding Nick’s ass with thick spurts of it that begin to leak out as he fucks Nick through the aftershocks. He has trouble keeping up his rhythm around Nick’s cock, but Nick reaches down to help, their fingers tangling around his shaft, bringing him off a minute later. Joe feels the squeeze of Nick’s hole around the base of his sensitive still-hard dick, hot jolts of come pouring over their joined hands. Having someone come while you’re fucking them is pretty much the best thing ever, Joe decides, flopping down on top of Nick but not pulling out quite yet.
He feels boneless, completely satisfied, breathing in the scent of Nick’s sweat as he nuzzles into Nick’s shoulder. Nick’s cleaner hand comes to rest in Joe’s hair, twirling it lazily. He doesn’t say anything, so Joe doesn’t either, and he’s almost asleep by the time Nick wriggles out from under him, gasping as Joe’s dick slips out of him. Joe can’t resist reaching down to touch, to feel how wet and open Nick’s swollen hole is, still dripping with Joe’s come. “Does it hurt?” he asks.
“I like it,” Nick replies, which doesn’t exactly answer the question, although he doesn’t bat Joe’s hand away.
Joe leans up on one elbow, taking in the flush that runs all the way down Nick’s chest, the little peaks of his nipples gone darker pink from Joe’s mouth, the smear of come on Nick’s belly. “So, Nick,” he says, “what do you think counts as being a virgin?”
Nick grins, wholehearted and happy, and draws Joe down into a kiss.
~fin~
Title: What Counts
Fandom: Jonas Brothers RPF
Pairing: Nick/Joe
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage (Nick is 15) incest porn!
Summary: "What do you think counts as being a virgin?" Nick asks.
Notes: 7900 words. Unbetaed. If you find any horrible typos or formatting errors, it's 2am and I wouldn't be terribly surprised, so feel free to point them out. I just wanted to write some porn, but this takes a while to get there.
They always talked about sex a lot. It would have been hard not to, when Nick was still at the age of sudden and unforeseen erections, and their love lives were a topic of public scrutiny anyway. Joe didn’t think it was a big deal, really. Staying a virgin sucked sometimes, but there was plenty of other fun stuff to do without crossing the line, and at least Nick and Kevin were in the same boat. Although when Kevin started dating Danielle, he became pretty tight lipped on the kiss-and-tell front, even with his brothers, which seemed a little unfair to Joe. Because it wasn’t like they got off on hearing about each other’s… whatevers.
Except that sometimes, when Nick was talking about Miley, Joe got a little more excited than he wanted to be, and he had to flop over on his front and prop his head on his fists to hide his hard-on as they lay on Nick’s bed discussing his so-called dates. It was while they were on tour together, and Nick spent hours in Miley’s hotel rooms or on her bus, “hanging out.”
“Wily Miley,” Joe started calling her, because even though Miley was as committed to staying a virgin as they were, her definition was a little more flexible. Nick kept coming back with stuttered stories about the things Miley offered him, some of which Joe had never even done with a girl.
She let Nick feel her up, which Joe took in stride because, hey, he’d had some experience with boobs. And Nick’s inability to say any word meaning “breasts”, turning redder and redder as he explained what had happened, was pretty hilarious.
But then Miley let Nick (or made Nick, it wasn’t totally clear) touch her through her panties, and Joe felt a shiver of mingled envy and heat when he heard that. He imagined Nick’s strong fingers cupping her, stroking her, Nick’s wrist caught in the open fly of her jeans. “She was wet,” Nick whispered, shutting his eyes, and Joe knew that Nick was turned on thinking about it, and he tried to ignore how that made his dick throb even harder against the mattress. “I could feel it. She was all… squishy.”
“Squishy?” Joe asked incredulously.
Nick’s cheeks went beet red and he opened his eyes to glare down the bed. “Shut up. What would you call it?”
Joe poked him in the ribs. “I don’t know, you slut. I’ve never done that.”
Nick looked alarmed and a little sick. “Do you think it’s wrong? Do you think I shouldn’t have?”
Joe settled a hand on Nick’s chest, flexed his fingers in the thin fabric of Nick’s t-shirt. “I think you’re just fine, Nicky,” he said seriously. “Just fine.”
Then, a few weeks later, the beginning of the end - although Joe didn’t know that yet - Nick came through the door to their room pale and flustered, chewing at his bottom lip. The first thing Joe did was get him a juice box and tell Nick to check his levels. The next thing he did was ask what the heck had happened.
Nick chewed his straw and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, in a quiet way that meant he didn’t want to tell.
“Come on,” Joe sighed. “Don’t make me beat it out of you.” He took off his sneaker and held it up menacingly.
Nick rolled his eyes.
“Seriously, it would be child abuse, and they’d send me to jail. I’m too pretty for jail.”
Nick’s smile was hesitant, but it was a start. He took a deep breath. “She just… I didn’t know… what was I supposed to do?”
“You have to give me more to go on here.” It was always weird to see Nick flustered, to see him acting his age, all his calm rationality scraped away.
“We were, you know.” He waved a hand. “And she said I could,” he leaned in confidentially, but no words came out.
Joe made a “go on” gesture.
“In her butt,” Nick said, and it took Joe a second to piece the interrupted sentence together and get what Nick was saying, and less than a second after that for his dick to go startlingly, dizzyingly hard. Joe rocked forward in his chair, squeezing his legs together so Nick wouldn’t see.
“Seriously?”
“She said it didn’t count. Doing it like that.” Nick sucked at the little juicebox straw, looking at the floor between them, his hair falling messily around his face. Joe imagined Miley’s fingers in it, nails scrabbling against Nick’s scalp as he moved in her, fucked her.
“So did you?” Joe asked impatiently, his head all full of the vision of his little brother on top of her, skinny hips pumping, cheeks flushed like they were now. He thought he’d know if Nick had, thought there would have been something on Nick’s face to give it away the minute he walked through the door. Joe was pretty sure he knew his brother that well. But he needed to be absolutely certain.
“No,” Nick said vehemently, and the clumsy ache in Joe’s chest eased. “I wouldn’t do that,” he added, mistaking Joe’s sigh of relief for something having to do with morals. “It would be cheating, trying to get around the promise I made to God, to myself.” Nick was so earnest and sincere sometimes Joe just wanted to wrap him up and keep him out of the world, away from everything that could make him cynical. He imagined launching himself at Nick, wrapping his arms around him and holding him until he couldn’t breathe. But it wouldn’t have had the same effect with Joe’s dick straining hard in his jeans.
“Bet Wily Miley wasn’t too happy about that.”
“I don’t know. I left. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I couldn’t, you know.” Joe flashed on it again, that image of Nick over her, in her, the flex of his shoulders, the slick parting of his lips. He didn’t imagine Miley, but he could see Nick clear as day in his mind. And that wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. Wasn’t how you were supposed to love your little brother.
***
It’s a couple of months later, and Miley is ancient history as far as they’re concerned, even if there seems to be endless tabloid mileage in it. But Joe can’t stop imagining all the things Nick didn’t do with her, wondering how he would look with his face slack in orgasm, his back glistening with sweat. Sometimes when Joe’s jerking off, getting knife’s-edge close, he lets himself think what it would be like to sink into Nick like that, nuzzle into the soft hair at the nape of his neck and hold him while he comes. He feels guilty about it afterwards, a heavy weight in his stomach, but he can’t stop it popping into his head.
It’s worse when Nick says, “What do you think counts as being a virgin?” out of the blue in a hotel room in Indiana, with the lights off and neither of them sleepy in their beds. Joe shivers down to his toes.
“If you’re worried you accidentally deflowered yourself in the shower this morning, you can rest easy.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” says Nick. “I’m serious.”
“When are you not serious?” Joe shifts, rests a hand high on his thigh under the covers, fingers splayed around the sudden fullness of his dick.
“I just think about it, you know. I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. With girls. Because I, you know, I want things. I want them a lot.” Joe squeezes gently at his dick, his heart pounding double-time at Nick’s tone of quiet confession.
“That’s normal though, Nicky,” Joe says, in his serious big brother voice. “That’s just how puberty is. We all want things. And after Miley practically begged you for it, it’s pretty clear you know what you’re doing.”
“But I was tempted. I wanted to.” He says “tempted” in this way that puts Joe right back in church, Dad telling the congregation that the path to righteousness is laid with many snares, that the right choice is rarely the easy one. Guilt gnaws at him, and his dick wilts a little.
“That’s because you’re not a robot. But you didn’t do it, so.”
“So you think it counts?”
“Probably. Come on, why are you so worried about this? It’s over. You persevered.”
“But next time, what if I don’t?”
“Do you really have girls throwing themselves at you that often, asking you to do them up the butt? Because, man, I get marriage proposals, but that’s a new one.”
“No, I… I don’t know. I just think about it. More than I want to. More than I should. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”
“Nick, contrary to popular belief, you are not actually forty. Stop beating yourself up.” He chucks an extra pillow at Nick’s bed, hears it land with a satisfying thwap.
“Jerk,” Nick says sulkily, heaving the pillow back. It hits Joe in the thigh, and there’s only so much he can take. He rolls out of bed and launches himself onto Nick, hands clawed to tickle him through the covers. Nicks shrieks, high and ear piercing, and then shushes himself, stifling his giggles and hissing, “Joe, stop,” in a voice that would sound way more authoritative if it weren’t shaky with laughter.
Joe works one hand under the comforter and pinches at Nick’s side, just above his hip where the skin is childishly soft and smooth. Nick’s shirt has ridden up, and it’s so easy to keep surprising him with little finger strokes, making him yelp and slap uselessly at Joe’s hands. Finally Joe flops down breathless on top of him, burying his face in the side of Nick’s neck. He’s worn out and guiltily turned on and still he feels stupidly happy pressed against Nick like this. “You’re a terrible brother,” Nick says, trying to tickle him back.
“Whatever. I am the best brother.” He blows a raspberry against Nick’s collarbone, and Nick punches him in the shoulder. Joe laughes, big and whole-hearted. “They are going to give me a best brother award someday and you will weep - weep, Nicholas - with how wrong you were.”
“Uh-huh,” says Nick, and his breath is warm across Joe’s cheek. Joe knows he should move because even through three layers of blankets, Nick’s eventually going to figure out that Joe isn’t hiding a flashlight in his shorts. But he feels bonelessly comfortable, Nick’s hand coming up to rest in the center of Joe’s back, his fingertips lined up along Joe’s spine. “You’re heavy,” Nick tells him after a while, but he doesn’t try to push Joe off. So Joe stays.
And the next thing he knows, it’s three a.m. and his back is cold but his front is warm, and it takes him a second to realize he’s still on Nick’s bed, on top of the covers and halfway on top of Nick. He heaves himself off and tucks in under the blankets at Nick’s side, too sleepy to stumble back to his own bed. They’ve fallen asleep like this too many times to count, and it’s easy for Joe to drift off to the soft, steady huff of Nick’s breath beside him.
***
The next day Joe is trying to help Kevin with his sudoku on the bus, which Kevin doesn’t seem to appreciate. “Joe, my desire to stick this pencil up your nose is starting to overwhelm my love for you. Go bother Nick.”
Nick, who’s been on the opposite couch playing the same chord progression for the past half hour, sighs, “Please don’t bother Nick.” He’s been working on bits of songs all day, killing time while they do repairs on the studio bus.
“What is wrong with you people?” Joe says, stomping his foot for emphasis. “You call yourselves my brothers, and yet you let me languish in boredom.”
“Languish,” says Nick, rolling it out long. “Languish. That’s a good word.” He goes back to his chord progression, picking up the pace a little.
“I have more sudoku,” Kevin offers, holding up his book. “You could have one of your very own.”
“I like yours better.”
“Sometimes I think that’s your whole life philosophy,” Nick tells him with a little smile, and Joe feels suddenly annoyed, even though Nick clearly didn’t mean it mean.
“Whatever. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me in St. Louis.”
“Wake me in St. Louis,” Nick sings, “wake me at the fair.” He winks at Joe, and Joe grins back. No hard feelings, and a stupid old movie song to prove it.
Joe goes to the back lounge and lies down on the big squashy couch, which is at least three times the size of his bunk. He closes his eyes, but he’s too wired to sleep, has been since the start of the tour pretty much. They’re playing huge shows every night, crisscrossing the country so fast Joe feels lost half the time. It’s exciting and he loves it and he loves getting up on stage with his brothers and looking out at all those screaming strangers. But the part where they spend so much time cooped up on a bus he could do without. He gets up and does some jumping jacks, ignoring the fact that he looks like an idiot when Nick pokes his head in and says, “We should get you a hamster wheel.”
“Hey, they got you a bus with a recording studio in it. Anything’s possible.” He wraps Nick in a slightly sweaty hug, and Nick hugs him back.
“I’ll suggest it.”
Joe thinks he should probably let go, but Nick is still hanging on to him, his chin on Joe’s shoulder. “You okay, kiddo?” Joe asks.
“Yeah,” Nick replies. “I’ll be glad when they have the bus fixed so we can get back to work.”
“Sounds good to me.” He reaches up to stroke Nick’s hair, rubbing his fingers through the curls at the back of his head.
“Hey, Joe,” Nick adds softly. “Is it weird that I like it when you sleep with me?”
Joe nearly chokes. “Uhh,” he says, and Nick tenses a little. Joe keeps stroking his hair. “I like it, too,” he confesses, knowing that Nick can’t possibly mean it like Joe means it. It hurts a little, a raw ache behind his ribs, in his throat, but it’s better. It’s better that Nick never knows.
And then Nick lifts his head and kisses Joe full on the mouth. His lips linger damply, and Joe is too shocked to react, his limbs locked suddenly stiff.
Nick rests his head on Joe’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers miserably.
“No,” Joe says. “No, no, no.” He slides his hand to the back of Nick’s neck, tilts Nick’s head up, and bends to kiss his little brother like he’s wanted to do for months. It’s terrible and perfect and Nick makes a startled little noise and opens his mouth before Joe’s even thought about getting that far. He licks Nick’s lower lip, sucks at the fullness of it and feels Nick shiver in his arms.
Kevin says something to the driver up at the front of the bus and Nick jumps backwards, pressing himself against the wall, his eyes wide. His mouth is dark pink and smeared wet, and Joe has never felt so hungry in his life. Nick sees him staring and blushes to the tips of his ears. Joe takes a hesitant step toward him, but Nick shakes his head. “Joe. You can’t.”
Joe proves him wrong, leaning Nick into the wall and kissing him again, telling himself that if Nick says, “Stop,” he will. Nick doesn’t say stop. Nick kisses him deeply, tongue sliding hot against Joe’s, one hand on Joe’s face, thumb stroking the hinge of Joe’s jaw. He crowds into Nick’s space, wrapping around him and pinning him in place, and Nick goes with it, lets it happen instead of saying something reasonable about how totally and completely wrong this is. Somewhere in the back of Joe’s mind he knows he shouldn’t be making out with his brother in the back of a tour bus, but all the doubt and guilt feels distant compared to Nick’s open mouth, the way his fingers tremble against Joe’s skin.
Nick is hard. Joe can feel the jut of it against his thigh, imagines laying Nick out on the couch and stroking him until he comes, can almost feel the slide of Nick’s dick through the circle of his hand. But when he tries to steer Nick away from the wall by his belt loops, Nick breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says, so Joe doesn’t, glancing between Nick’s slack puffy lips and the confusion in his eyes.
Joe takes a step back, and Nick digs his hands into his pockets self-consciously. “You want to play some Guitar Hero?” Joe asks, because he has no idea what else to say.
Nick gives him the familiar squinty look that means he thinks Joe’s nuts. “Now?”
“Unless you really want to talk right now.”
Nick purses his lips, then shakes his head. “Let’s play.”
***
They play a great show in St. Louis, one of the best yet, and Joe can’t stop grinning afterward, especially when he looks at Kevin and sees that he can’t stop either. Nick doesn’t grin except in little flashes when he forgets himself, but even he looks thoroughly happy. After the tension of the bus ride and the electrical glitches at soundcheck, it feels so good to give the audience exactly what they want. Joe wants to dance and turn cartwheels and hug everyone in the world (but especially Nick). For a little while, all the weirdness goes away, and they’re brothers and they’re a band and it’s perfect.
And then Dad hands him and Nick keys to a single hotel room, just like usual, and Joe’s stomach seems to bob up into his throat.
“Do you want the first shower?” Nick asks in the elevator, and his voice is almost normal, except for a little tremor underneath.
“Sure. Thanks.”
Joe takes his time in the shower, scrubbing off the night’s sweat and hair gel, wondering guiltily if he should jerk off or if maybe Nick will do that for him. For one hot moment, he imagines Nick climbing into the shower with him, slick bare skin and calloused fingers, and after that he pretty much has to jerk off. It doesn’t take more than a few strokes before he’s spattering the wall under the showerhead with come, thick, ropy strings of white against the blue tile. He watches the slow drip of it for a second before washing it away.
When Joe comes out of the bathroom with one towel around his waist and another thrown over his wet hair, he can feel Nick watching him, like electricity on his skin. Nick’s sitting on the end of the bed by the window, the TV turned to CNN. “I was starting to think you’d drowned,” Nick says.
“No way. If you thought I’d drowned, you would have come to save me.”
“Maybe. Are you done now?” He sounds annoyed, but when Joe turns to look, there’s this new kind of heat in Nick’s eyes.
“Yes, Nicholas, I’m done.” Joe waits until Nick shuts the bathroom door before changing into boxers and an old t-shirt. He turns off the TV and gets into the other bed, and then he waits. Because something has to happen. It has to.
His heart jumps when the shower shuts off, but he pretends to be asleep as Nick emerges in a cloud of steam.
“Joe?” Nick says quietly. “Are you awake?”
Joe slits one eye open. “Yeah.” Nick’s holding his towel in white-knuckled fingers, like it might run away if he doesn’t. His hair’s hanging in ringlets around his face, and in the glow of the bedside lamp, he looks pale and incredibly young. Joe remembers when Nick got so skinny, scary skinny, when Joe spent so much time looking out for him, cataloguing the feel of every joint and prominent rib. It’s nothing like how he wants to touch Nick now, and that comes with a fresh jolt of guilt. “Don’t do anything you don’t want,” Joe tells him, and Nick shuts his eyes and shifts his towel. Joe can see the thick bulge of his dick under the cloth, and there are so many things he wants to do.
“But it’s not just about what I want.” Nick is such a good kid, better than Joe will ever be in some ways, with this crystal clear sense of right and wrong. Except that right now he sounds so mixed up, hurt and unhappy. “What am I supposed to do?” Nick asks, and Joe doesn’t even know if it’s a question for him or for God. And he definitely doesn’t have an answer.
It seems like a really long time before Nick looks at him again, a hard, considering look now. His skin is all over gooseflesh, and he must be cold. Joe wants to pull him down, hold him, rub him warm again, but it’s not that simple. He makes a decision. “Put some clothes on, Nick.”
Nick licks his lips. “Yeah. Okay.” Joe turns off the light and closes his eyes, as if there’s any way he can sleep now. He hears the rustle of Nick changing, the clink of his dog tags, the shuffle of his feet. “Can I…” Nick asks, coming up next to Joe’s bed. Joe scoots over to make room, welcomes the press of Nick’s damp curls against his cheek, cold toes on his ankle as Nick curls into him.
“I love you, Nicky,” Joe says.
Nick’s lips move against the side of Joe’s neck. “I love you, too.” Joe thinks maybe that’s it, but then Nick leans up until his mouth meets Joe’s in a clumsy, tentative kiss. His tongue flickers against Joe’s lower lip, and Joe has to stifle a moan. Nick smells like hotel shampoo and tastes like toothpaste, and he digs his fingers into the back of Joe’s head, pulling up to kiss him more deeply. Their teeth meet with a click, and Joe bends his head until they match up right again. His lips feel full and tender when Nick finally lifts his head, their noses touching in the dark. “Want you so much,” Nick whispers, desperate and shaky, and Joe shivers, suddenly hot all over.
“Yeah,” he agrees, slipping one leg between Nick’s, bending his knee until the top of his thigh nudges Nick’s balls. Nick hitches a breath, his hips stuttering down into Joe’s. His dick is a hot, hard line against Joe’s hip, the slick heat of precome leaking through his shorts, sticky on Joe’s skin. He pants into Joe’s mouth, barely even kissing him now. Joe slides a hand down Nick’s back, resting just above the curve of his ass, pressing him gently down, encouraging his little wriggling thrusts.
“Joe,” Nick moans, and just like that it’s over, Nick rocking into him, Nick’s come squishy and hot between them. “Sorry,” he groans, and Joe kisses him, wet and hungry and deep, sucking at Nick’s lips, biting at them, hugging Nick tight until he goes limp in Joe’s arms, emptied out.
Joe strokes down the sweaty length of his spine, Nick sniffling into his shoulder. “I’ve never,” Nick says, and Joe can feel the wetness of tears trickling down the side of his neck.
“You’re okay,” Joe whispers. “You’re okay.” He means it as much as he’s ever meant anything. And it would be easy for Nick to argue, but he just clings until he falls asleep, his legs tangled with Joe’s.
***
“What do you think counts as being a virgin?” Nick asks again in Austin, and the question has a different sound when it’s asked by someone who’s been humping Joe’s leg until he comes practically every night across the Midwest. They’re spooned together in another hotel bed, bellies full of late-night room service omelets, Joe nuzzling lazily at Nick’s hair.
Joe knits their fingers tighter together, their rings clinking softly. “When a man and a woman love each other very much, and they want to have a baby…”
Nick kicks him in the shin. “Let’s say hypothetically not a man and a woman.”
“Hypothetically,” Joe echoes, turned on and not even hiding it, his dick rubbing slow against Nick’s ass. Sometimes Nick still looks guilty, like he realizes exactly how far he’s fallen, and Joe feels sick to his stomach when he sees that. But mostly he’s happy, and he thinks Nick is too, and that’s all he really wants. Or almost all. “Like, if I sucked you off right now, would you still be a virgin?”
Nick’s breath hitches, and his stomach tightens under their clasped hands. “Yeah,” Nick says shakily. “Like that.”
Joe drags their hands down, cups Nick through his jeans. “Maybe we should try it and find out.” Joe never thought he’d want to do that, but right now his mouth is practically watering just imagining it.
Nick rocks forward against his own palm. “Seriously?”
Joe tips Nick onto his back and leans over him, untangling their hands to run his fingers up the fly of Nick’s jeans. “Seriously.”
“I don’t know if that’s… oh.” Joe unzips Nick’s jeans and reaches into Nick’s boxers, rubbing his thumb over the plump head of Nick’s dick. Nick’s barely even let him touch, except through clothes, and Joe feels reckless with the opportunity. He wraps his hand around Nick’s shaft, circling a little, learning the feel of Nick’s skin, and Nick moans as his hips come off the bed. It’s been great, rubbing off against Nick, moving against him until they’re both sticky and wrung out, but it’s not like this.
“Get these off, okay?” Joe says, fumbling at the waistband of Nick’s jeans, his boxers, pulling them down until they’re hobbling Nick’s knees, and it would look ridiculous if Nick’s cock weren’t the hottest thing Joe has ever seen, all stiff and pink, surrounded by little dark curls of hair around the base, with the flushed shadow of his balls below. “Nick,” he breathes out, not even sure what to do first. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Nick says shakily, and Joe huffs out a surprised laugh, like that’s the sin he should be most worried about right now. Nick’s eyes are dark and glazed with want as Joe looks up. “Are you gonna?”
“Yeah.” Joe slides down the bed to find a comfortable angle, eye-level with Nick’s bellybutton. Nick’s dick is jerking a little with every breath he takes, and Joe reaches out a hand for it again, wrapping it in his fist and stroking up once, slow. Nick’s dick is skinnier than his, fills up his hand differently, but Joe knows Nick’s still growing. He leans in to press his tongue to the slit, a tentative taste, salt and skin. Nick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Joe looks up to see Nick biting his lip, his eyes already frantic with need. He tries another taste, a slow circle around the head with his tongue. Nick’s hips jump, his cock smudging precome over Joe’s lips, and Joe lays a hand across the softness of Nick’s belly to hold him in place.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he pretends, remembering every second of scrambled cable porn he can and folding his lips over his teeth as he dips to take Nick into his mouth. Just the head to start, then farther down, Nick’s cock gliding over the roof of his mouth, smooth until he gags, has to pull back and start again. Nick doesn’t seem to mind, making high, grated out noises and wriggling beneath Joe’s restraining hand. His dick is leaking precome like a fountain, fat drops welling up and spilling over as Joe watches, mesmerized. He’s never seen a dick this close, not even his own, never watched every spurt and drip and shiver the way he can with Nick. He forgets blowing Nick for a minute and just explores, trails his thumb around the base and up the thick vein on the underside, cups his hand low to feel the tight fullness of Nick’s balls, hot and nearly hairless. Joe licks down between them, then sucks one into his mouth, pushing at the thin skin with his tongue. Nick moans, and Joe edges down even farther, digs one knuckle into the soft, sensitive spot behind Nick’s balls as he mouths his way back up to the salty-wet head of Nick’s dick. “You ever do it like this?” Joe asks, rocking his finger towards Nick’s asshole.
“No,” Nick sighs, trying to spread his legs wider for Joe’s hand, all tied up with his jeans and shorts. It’s a tight fit back between Nick’s cheeks, but Joe can’t seem to stop touching him, the tip of his finger pressing at the quivering heat of Nick’s hole, stroking there and feeling the flex of tight muscle. Nick’s gonna let him in here, Joe knows it now with a certainty that makes his balls ache. But not tonight. Tonight he just takes Nick’s dick into his mouth as far as he can, sucks it wet and sloppy. He keeps his finger pressed in close against Nick’s hole, and Nick comes in his mouth in a matter of moments, bucking his hips and whimpering apologies. Joe swallows every thick, sticky drop he can, chases those he can’t with his tongue, Nick shivering and sensitive for every last lick. “Joe,” Nick says hoarsely, lifting his head to stare, his eyes fixed on Joe’s lips, which feel puffy and numb.
Joe doesn’t ask permission to kiss him, letting Nick suck the taste of his own come off Joe’s tongue as Joe rubs off against Nick’s hip.
“Tomorrow night I can blow you,” Nick says sleepily, always with a sense of fairness.
“Dang right you can,” Joe agrees, tangling his fingers in Nick’s hair as he falls asleep.
***
The next night is Dallas, and they have almost 36 hours to spend at home afterwards, which is both awesome and weird. Mom makes pancakes when they get back from the show, and Joe can’t stop looking around their house, all full of their furniture and their pictures and their tangle of old gaming systems under the TV in the living room. “You know, guys,” Mom says, “just because we have a day off tomorrow doesn’t mean you have to stay up until five in the morning.” But then Nick fires up Donkey Kong on the SuperNintendo that’s older than he is, and Joe can’t resist.
Kevin watches them play for a while, scores Joe some bonus points on the puzzles, even though Nick tries to call foul. What Joe really wants to know is what’s going to happen next, but he can’t ask, not with Kevin yelling instructions at the TV screen and Nick focusing all his attention on a pixilated monkey, his eyebrows knit in concentration. Pretty soon it’s 3 a.m. and Kevin says goodnight and heads off to his room. They’re only halfway through a level, but as soon as Kevin’s out of earshot Nick turns off the game without even saving, and turns to Joe with a serious look on his face. Joe wonders whether he’s found the one thing that motivates Nick more than competition. “Joseph,” Nick says, cocky and teasing, “I believe I was going to blow you.”
Joe licks his lips and adjusts himself in his sweats. “I believe you were, Nicholas.”
Joe holds his eyes, and whatever nerve Nick worked up seems to desert him. He swallows. “So do you want me to do that now?”
“I want you to do whatever you want.”
Nick leans in close, blushing as he whispers, “I want to blow you.” He sounds sincere, turned on and a little apprehensive. “I really want to.”
Joe is a little afraid he’s going to come right here, just hearing Nick say it, Nick’s hot breath skating across his ear. “My bed is bigger than yours,” Joe says urgently. “Come on.”
Nick follows him.
***
Joe’s kind of hazy the next morning, and he thinks this must be what being drunk feels like, floaty and distracted. He keeps looking at Nick’s mouth and remembering how full and pink Nick’s lips looked stretched around his dick, all the wet little slurping noises he made trying to take Joe in deeper. He watches Nick lick instant oatmeal off his spoon, and thinks of Nick licking come from the corners of his mouth. Everything Nick does today makes Joe want to drag him off and… something. And Nick obviously knows it. He’s so flushed at breakfast Mom asks if he has a fever, and he keeps giving Joe these little sideways looks from under his eyelashes. But they’re surrounded all morning, and Joe normally doesn’t mind never being away from his family, but right now the only family he wants is Nick.
Frankie digs the croquet set out of the garage and hassles them all into setting it up in the backyard after lunch. Joe can’t help but find croquet hilarious on principle, so he puts on a fake mustache and insists on talking in a hoity-toity British accent as they play. Nick whacks him in the shin with his mallet before the third wicket. “Very unsporting, old chap,” Joe hisses, clutching at his ankle.
Kevin wins, in a shocking come-from-behind victory, and his victory dance spans the entire length of the backyard. Nick doesn’t even look mad that he lost, and Joe loves seeing him laugh like this, big and open. It’s a good kind of day so far.
When Kevin’s done moonwalking across the patio, Mom asks what else they want to do with their day off. Nick raises his eyebrows at Joe, and Joe accidentally twirls his mustache so hard it comes off. “I’m happy just chilling here,” he says, picking at the spirit gum stuck to his finger.
“I have some songs I want to work on,” Nick adds. Joe thinks about Nick practicing his fingering and goes hot all over. Everybody else is talking, making plans, but Joe’s just staring at Nick’s hand, wrapped loosely around his mallet and stroking a little.
He doesn’t really expect that he and Nick will actually get the house to themselves, even when Kevin pulls out his phone to start checking movie show times. It’s more good luck than Joe can actually contemplate until the door closes and there’s sudden, amazing silence. Three hours with no one in the house to look forward to.
“So,” Nick says, looking at the guitar in his lap instead of at Joe. “I could keep working, or we could do something else.”
“I know you don’t like to have your creative process interrupted,” Joe replies solemnly, leaning in to strum tonelessly at the guitar until Nick stills the strings with his hand. “But I’m up for some something else.”
“Yeah.” Nick bites his lip. “Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll be right there? I have to,” he makes a meaningless hand motion.
Joe repeats the motion, and Nick blushes. “Okay. Is it a surprise? Do you want me to cover my eyes?”
“Just go. I’ll be right there.” Nick tugs the guitar case over and closes his notebook. He obviously has a plan - Nick always has a plan - and whatever it is this time, Joe’s pretty confident he’s going to like it.
Once Joe gets upstairs he’s not sure what to do with himself, turned on and giddy with expectation. He thinks about undressing, lying in bed with his dick out and ready by the time Nick gets there. He could smile all coy and say, “Well, Nicholas, fancy meeting you here.” But he doesn’t want to make Nick more nervous by goofing around. It still feels new, doing all this stuff, because even though the tour makes time seem squished and stretched in weird ways, it’s only been a couple of weeks since the first time Nick kissed him. And in the normal world, a couple of weeks isn’t even long enough to get to second base.
Joe hears water running in the bathroom and sniffs his pits experimentally, wondering whether Nick has the right idea. But with only the shared bathroom, there’s not a whole lot Joe can do about it. And they’re probably just going to get sweaty again anyway. Joe kicks off his sneakers and throws his socks in the direction of the closet. Nick’s still in the bathroom, so Joe pops a tic-tac and paces a few times around the room, then takes off his t-shirt to flex in front of the mirror. He tries standing like those guys on the cover of Mom’s romance novels, puffing his chest out and giving a smoldering and seductive look at his reflection. Which is of course what Nick sees him doing when he opens the door.
Nick looks deer-in-headlights shocked, his eyes skating over Joe’s bare chest in a way that makes Joe feel suddenly self-conscious. “Oh,” Nick says, rocking backwards a little, like he wasn’t expecting such close range. He’s got all his clothes on, and his cheeks are flushed. “What are you doing?”
“Making a fool of myself,” says Joe cheerfully, reaching out a hand to draw Nick into the room. His fingers hit just above Nick’s hip, and Nick takes a shuddery little breath. Joe imagines dropping to his knees right there and getting his mouth around Nick’s dick, which is already pushing out the front of his pants. He gets as far as the top button on Nick’s fly before Nick stops him.
“I want to try something,” Nick says, and Joe realizes he’s holding something in his hand: a plastic bottle. Understanding hits Joe like a punch to the gut, and his dick throbs and his breath comes out in a surprised gasp.
“Where did you get that?”
Nick’s blush deepens. “Kevin keeps it under the sink. He probably thinks no one knows it’s there.”
Joe doesn’t speculate too much on why Kevin has lube hidden in the bathroom. “Are you sure?”
“Sure about where I got this? Yeah.” His nervous smile flickers on and off like a bad light bulb. “Sure about anything else? Not as much.”
Joe wraps his arms around Nick’s waist, tugging him in close, Nick’s breath hot on Joe’s neck as he leans into it. “You don’t have to do anything,” Joe says quietly. “Anything you want is just fine.”
Nick sighs. “You say that like that makes it easier.” His hips hitch forward against Joe’s, and Joe can feel how hard he is. “I want it so much. Joe, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. And that just makes it so much worse.” He rocks into Joe again, and Joe rubs a hand up Nick’s back, digging his fingers into the tense curve of Nick’s spine. Joe knows he doesn’t feel these things the way Nick does, knows his moral compass doesn’t turn quite true. There’s nothing he can think to say, but he gives okay backrubs. He makes it as far as Nick’s shoulders and presses more deeply into the tight muscle there. Nick takes a deep breath, relaxing into him.
They stand like that for a long time, Joe working his fingers up the back of Nick’s skull, Nick’s shallow breaths tickling against Joe’s bare shoulder. And then Nick thumbs open the button on Joe’s fly. “Nick?” Joe says uncertainly, and Nick looks up.
“I love you,” says Nick, words that have always come so easy for both of them, edged with desperation.
“I love you, too.” Joe tips Nick’s face up to kiss him, parting Nick’s lips with his tongue, licking into the heat of Nick’s mouth. Joe tugs him along, stepping backwards and narrowly avoiding tripping over his shoes on his way to the bed. He pulls Nick down, and Nick comes, landing halfway on top of Joe with a startled “mmph.” He drops the lube, and Joe feels new heat curling in his belly just from the thought that he might be able to get into Nick that way. Nick breaks the kiss, and Joe wonders whether he did something wrong, but then Nick is pulling at his own clothes, and Joe is hungry for every pale, smooth inch of his brother’s skin as it’s revealed. He shucks down his own pants and underwear and watches Nick’s eyes following the bob of his dick. He wraps a hand around it, strokes himself once, and Nick swallows hard.
Nick’s cock is heavy and full against his belly, and Joe thinks just how little it would take to make Nick come right now. Just a couple of licks to the leaking head, a little pressure around the shaft, the kind of slow squeeze he knows Nick likes best. Joe sits up, reaching out for him, but Nick takes his hand, stops it. “I’ll come,” Nick says.
“I thought that was the point.”
Nick picks up the lube carefully, like it might explode. “I want you to,” he says, holding it out, and Joe’s hands shake a little as he takes it. He doesn’t know anything about how to do it right, how to make it good for Nick, but Nick’s looking at him all trusting and wanting and scared, and Joe can’t not.
“Lie down.” Joe says it with more confidence than he feels, and Nick stretches out on the bed beside him. His toes curl in the old red comforter, and Joe reaches out to lay a hand on his belly, the soft, vulnerable place under his bellybutton, and Nick shuts his eyes. His dick dribbles out a little thread of precome, and Joe catches it as it falls, brings his fingers to his mouth to lick the taste of Nick off them. He leans in to kiss Nick’s mouth, the corner of his jaw, the fluttering pulse just underneath. Nick bends his head up, baring his throat, and Joe has this reckless urge to bite him there, mark the pale stretch of Nick’s skin. He uses his tongue instead, licks a thin line down to Nick’s collarbone, then farther, open mouth sliding down Nick’s chest, teasing one pink nipple to a tense little point. He lets himself bite a little, because no one’s going to see this part of Nick anyway, and Nick makes this high, desperate sound at the first graze of Joe’s teeth. Joe switches sides, leaning across to get at Nick’s other nipple, and Nick sets a tentative hand on Joe’s head, fingers twitching when Joe bites down again.
Joe finds all Nick’s noises fascinating, little moans and sighs and bitten-off exclamations, and by the time he makes his way back up to kiss Nick’s mouth, Nick is a panting, whimpering mess. His hand fists tighter in Joe’s hair, dragging him into a deep kiss, and Joe stretches his own hand down to stroke the straining length of Nick’s cock. He could make Nick come like this so easy, but that’s not what Nick asked for. Joe backs off and reaches out for the lube.
Nick stops him. “Wait,” he says, taking Joe’s hand and working Joe’s ring off his finger, followed by his own. He cups them in his palm, squeezes his hand tight around them before setting them on the nightstand. “We can put them back on, after, but I just, this means something. Doing it with you means something.” Nick holds his eyes, even though he’s blushing hot across his cheeks. Joe’s hand feels funny without the ring, and he’s both humbled and so turned on he can’t breathe at the thought of what Nick’s giving him. He’s pretty sure he can’t possibly deserve it, but Nick has always been more than Joe deserves. “Okay?” Nick asks nervously, because Joe’s still staring at him.
“You’re perfect,” he replies, and kisses the corner of Nick’s mouth.
The lube is cool and slippery on Joe’s fingers, and he rubs it around, just getting a feel for it before he slips his hand down between Nick’s thighs. Nick is watching Joe’s face, but as Joe slides his first finger down behind Nick’s balls, he shuts his eyes, rocking up towards Joe’s hand, spreading a little wider. Joe touches his hole, rubs over the tight center, not even trying to go in yet, just feeling the clench of it. He thinks there should be something he can say to make this easier, but he doesn’t know what. Nick is trembling, and his dick is heavy and swollen against his belly, leaking a steady stream of precome there. Nick wants it, and now Joe just has to figure out how to give it to him.
He coats his first two fingers again, then touches the middle one to Nick’s hole, pressing a little and feeling Nick open up for him for the first time. Nick’s little hole stretches around his fingertip, and Nick makes a pained noise. But Joe’s in now, so he stays, wiggling his finger in a little deeper and feeling Nick’s muscles flex around him. He smears more lube around with his thumb, works so, so slowly in until Nick starts to relax for him, slick heat up to Joe’s second knuckle. “How is it?” Joe asks, dribbling more lube over his fingers, working one finger in as far as he can and waiting.
“Weird,” Nick replies, shifting a little on Joe’s hand. “They say if you” - he makes a crooking motion with his fingers, which Joe echoes without meaning to, finger curving in Nick’s ass. Nick gasps, his hole twitching, so Joe does it again, a slower stroke this time. Nick’s thighs tremble and his dick forces out a thick spurt of precome.
“Whoever ‘they’ are, I think they’re right,” Joe says.
“Yeah,” Nick agrees on a sigh, and he’s loosening up a little every time Joe moves in him, so Joe slicks more lube down around Nick’s hole and tries a second finger. It doesn’t go at first, too much too soon, but then Nick lets out a breath and does something that lets Joe in, two fingers sliding deep, held by the snug heat of Nick’s hole. “Move,” Nick whispers, so Joe does, stroking in and out of him, adding more lube to ease the glide as Nick starts rocking his hips to meet Joe’s rhythm. Joe is hard as steel, too close to coming already as he watches Nick fucking himself on Joe’s fingers, Nick’s face scrunched up in an expression Joe doesn’t even recognize. “Feels so good,” Nick says, low and hoarse, and Joe twists his fingers, making a space for himself in Nick’s ass, feeling every shiver from the inside. “Think you should,” Nick starts, and his mouth forms the ‘f’ in ‘fuck me,’ but he wouldn’t be Nick if he could get the words out.
“Think I should, too,” Joe tells him, pressing kisses to Nick’s full, bitten lips as he drags his fingers out of Nick’s hole.
Slicking lube over his dick is pure torture, even the pressure of his own hand threatening to wreck his control. He isn’t going to last. But Nick doesn’t seem to mind, lifting his knees wider as Joe settles on top of him, giving Joe a perfect view of the little pink mouth of his hole. It looks so small, feels impossibly tight as Joe presses the tip of his cock to it. He doesn’t want to push, held just outside the tight rim, but Nick arches up into him and murmurs, “Please,” and Joe’s self control is no match for that. He pushes the head of his dick into Nick’s ass, holding himself there for a moment before sliding in more deeply, the slick heat of Nick’s insides parting for him, making it easy once he’s past that first squeeze of resistance.
Nick makes a small, surprised sound when Joe’s all the way in, his balls resting hot between the cheeks of Nick’s ass. Eyes closed, Nick reaches down to touch the rim of his hole, the thin skin stretched taut around Joe’s cock. “You’re in me,” he says wonderingly, stroking the place where they join, hot and messy with lube. “I can feel you.”
Joe groans, can’t help it, and Nick looks up, eyes clear and dark and awed. “Let me,” Joe says, and Nick nods, closing his eyes again as Joe starts to move in him, fucking him deep and as slow as he can bear. There’s pressure building in his balls, coiling up his spine, and he grabs for Nick’s dick because he needs Nick to get there first. Joe twists his hand around the shaft, pulls up slow to smear the whole thing wet. Nick tightens down around him and sparks start to go off behind Joe’s eyes. He’s too close, but he keeps stroking Nick’s dick, focusing on the way Nick trembles between Joe’s hand and his cock.
Joe still comes first, helpless and shuddering, flooding Nick’s ass with thick spurts of it that begin to leak out as he fucks Nick through the aftershocks. He has trouble keeping up his rhythm around Nick’s cock, but Nick reaches down to help, their fingers tangling around his shaft, bringing him off a minute later. Joe feels the squeeze of Nick’s hole around the base of his sensitive still-hard dick, hot jolts of come pouring over their joined hands. Having someone come while you’re fucking them is pretty much the best thing ever, Joe decides, flopping down on top of Nick but not pulling out quite yet.
He feels boneless, completely satisfied, breathing in the scent of Nick’s sweat as he nuzzles into Nick’s shoulder. Nick’s cleaner hand comes to rest in Joe’s hair, twirling it lazily. He doesn’t say anything, so Joe doesn’t either, and he’s almost asleep by the time Nick wriggles out from under him, gasping as Joe’s dick slips out of him. Joe can’t resist reaching down to touch, to feel how wet and open Nick’s swollen hole is, still dripping with Joe’s come. “Does it hurt?” he asks.
“I like it,” Nick replies, which doesn’t exactly answer the question, although he doesn’t bat Joe’s hand away.
Joe leans up on one elbow, taking in the flush that runs all the way down Nick’s chest, the little peaks of his nipples gone darker pink from Joe’s mouth, the smear of come on Nick’s belly. “So, Nick,” he says, “what do you think counts as being a virgin?”
Nick grins, wholehearted and happy, and draws Joe down into a kiss.
~fin~