Northern Charm
Summary: Jones has a type. Claire and Dan are not amused.
Pairings: Jones/Claire, Jones/Dan
Wordcount: 3917
Warnings: Incest! Well, no actual incest, just near constant references to it. Also contains very rough language, very aggressive Dan, and a bit of light dub-con for seasoning.
A/N: This is written for karaokegal's Come As You're Not Halloween party, because have I mentioned the incest? It's also the darkest comedy I've written in a while. Nathan Barley is a horrible influence and I had way too much fun writing this.
Claire was pissed the first time she fucked Jones. Not so pissed that she couldn’t say no, but enough that the beats pounding through the wall felt like lizards raking their sharp little claws across her brain.
“Turn that bloody racket down,” she shouted from the kitchen. The cupboard held a bottle of mustard and ten different kinds of sugary cereal, but no tea. It frustrated Claire almost to the point of tears.
There was a muffled response from the front room, but the music remained at full volume. Claire slammed the cupboard, walked out of the kitchen and behind where Jones was bouncing at his decks like a kitten on amphetamines, and yanked a handful of cords out of the wall. The silence was so suffocating that it made her headache worse.
“What was that for?” When Jones got angry, his voice reached pitches typically reserved for schoolgirls. He stared at her, blue eyes massive with disbelief, and Claire wanted to comb his hair and make him a cheese sandwich almost as much as she wanted to smack him.
“Turn that fucking noise down, or I’ll smack you.” Claire wasn’t a violent person, not by any stretch, but alcohol obliterated her sense of restraint. Surprisingly, Jones gave her a quizzical look, the hurt softening from his face.
“Would that make you feel better?”
Claire didn’t know how to take that. What kind of person said that? Was it a self-flagellating impulse (unlikely), or was he that eager to appease her mood (doubly unlikely)? Did he get some kind of sick pleasure from being hit by angry drunk women?
Claire grabbed the loose fabric of his shirt and dragging him into the bedroom behind her. Because she was drunk, it didn’t seem odd that Jones went along with it when he hadn’t actually said anything on the subject.
Jones was bony as hell, poking into her everywhere his weight rested. He smelled sweet and fruity and tangy with sweat, but he tasted like cigarettes. She associated the flavor so strongly with Dan that she yanked her head back.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft but raspy, and she thought that cigarettes might suit him after all. Too impatient to respond verbally, Claire pushed on the top of his head. Jones laughed, and it was almost wild and infectious enough to banish the remainer of her strop.
“Alright, then.” He was good with his mouth, and he dove in with familiar boundless enthusiasm (leaving no room for talking, thank god). Claire came quickly, nearly choking him with her thighs.
“Fuck,” he panted, pushing up on his knees so he could reach his cock. “God, you taste…” He cried out instead of finishing the thought, leaning his sweaty forehead against her hip. Claire went bright red, even though she knew Dan wasn’t in.
“Scream a little louder. I don’t think they heard you in Glasgow.” Jones crawled up to the pillows and sprawled on his back, still wearing a neon pink shirt but naked from the waist down. The thought of Dan walking in on such a scene (and the knowledge that Jones thrashed around in his sleep) was sobering enough for her to collect her clothing and fall exhausted onto the sofa.
--
Dan was pissed the first time he fucked Jones. He’d been draped on the sofa for hours, guzzling beer and trying to keep his eyes on his laptop. Jones had his headphones on and his eyes closed, swaying to the beat in his own little world. The only thing that confused and infuriated Dan more than his lack of shame was the slithery grace in his lean body. Jones was obviously not trying to be seductive, so why did Dan feel seduced?
The more alcohol in his system, the louder and more pointed the complaints Dan muttered to himself. Eventually, a grunted “slag” made it far enough across the room for Jones to look up from his decks and free one ear.
“What’d you say, mate?” He was actually sparkling, shiny with sweat and lip gloss and eyes so big they belonged in an advert for sponsoring South American orphans. It made Dan’s chest feel warm and soupy, and this angered him so much that he shoved his laptop aside and stomped across the room.
“I said you’re a fucking slag,” he growled. Jones’ eyes went even bigger, glancing down Dan’s body to his clenched fists before coming back up. “You’re a filthy little slut, with your stupid hair and your stupid girls’ trousers and your stupid pretty mouth that’s just begging for a cock in it. Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you want somebody to pin you down and fuck your mouth until your lipstick’s rubbed all over your face? Because if you want to make people so fucking mental they can’t help themselves, then keep doing whatever the fuck you’re doing.”
Jones swallowed hard enough for Dan could see the movement of his throat. “You do know you sound like a fucking rapist?”
Dan felt a twinge of remorse--he was an angry person, not a violent one--but it vanished as soon as Jones licked his cherry-red lips. Dan froze as rough, slender fingers snaked around his wrists and up the inside of his forearms.
“Good thing it’s so fucking consensual, yeah?” Then Dan was being kissed by a man for the first time. All he could taste was fruity lip gloss.
Thanks to the beer in his system, Dan warmed up rather quickly. He was soon leaning against the table with skinny legs wrapped around his waist, sucking hard on the salty skin of Jones’ shoulder and rubbing against him in short, frustrating jerks.
“You’re not gonna break your promise, are you?” Jones whispered.
“Promise?”
“Hold me down and fuck my mouth.” His breath was hot against Dan’s ear. Dan was uncertain how anyone could take the ramblings of a drunken idiot as legitimate foreplay, but then Jones flipped them around and dropped to his knees. His face was hidden by messy fringe as he worked Dan’s zip free.
“Oh, fuck.” It hadn’t been that long since Dan was sucked off (yes, yes it had), but he gave a strangled yelp and grabbed the table with shaking hands. Jones popped off with a filthy wet noise, staring up at Dan with something that looked dangerously like a smirk.
“Grab my hair, yeah? I know you want to. And don’t be afraid to thrust.”
“You’re trying to kill me,” Dan moaned. Then he was smothered in tight heat, and he ran his fingers through silky red strands just for something to hold onto.
For a while, he just stood there and watched Jones gulp him down with frightening enthusiasm. From this angle, he looked disturbingly like a woman--thin fingers clutching at Dan’s thighs, soft hair and softer lips masking the unfeminine contours of his jaw and throat, eyes staring up from beneath feathery lashes. Dan was glad for his quick orgasm, because a confusing part of him wanted to rip back the costume and see the man underneath.
Jones had a hand in his trousers, and he rocked back and forth against it, pressing his face against the rough denim of Dan’s leg and rubbing it into his spunk. It was a lot less off-putting than Dan would’ve imagined.
“Fuck,” Jones whimpered. “Oh, Dan, you’re just like…oh.”
He was almost there, but those jeans were too tight to allow much movement. “You can, um,” Dan muttered, awkwardly petting Jones’ head. “Take them off. If you want.”
He felt instantly stupid--Jones had probably left them on because he wanted to, not to please Dan’s queasy heterosexuality--but it made Jones shudder and shout and dig sharp nails into Dan’s bare arse. He slumped at Dan’s feet, breathing hard.
“D’you want to kip in the bed tonight?”
Dan was too pissed to say no.
--
It wasn’t like Jones had planned it.
He was only human, and when a beautiful person of either sex flung themselves at him in a fit of drunken libido, he simply didn’t have the will to push them away. And if that beautiful person had dark hair and wild eyes and a gruff northern lilt to their voice…
Jones was only human. If it were wrong, they wouldn’t both be so bloody attractive. Only a cruel god would expect him to choose. Jones was certain that given the circumstances, his actions were inevitable.
Besides, it wasn’t like they had to know.
--
Claire was the one to figure it out.
Dan was at work, and she knew Nathan wouldn’t be at the office until afternoon. Jones was stretched out on the bed, the cool air against his sweaty back giving him gooseflesh. Claire ran her fingers down the ridges of his spine.
“Jesus, Jones. Did you get bummed by a t-rex?” Her hand hovered above his red, raw arse. She knew he fucked other people and she knew he fucked men, but he’d never worn the evidence quite so shamelessly.
Jones gave a dirty little chuckle into the pillow. “Ever been eaten out by a beardy bloke, Claire?”
Claire gasped. “God, that’s filthy.” She ran her palm over his curved flesh. “Didn’t it hurt?”
“Fuck, yeah. Came in about thirty seconds. Better than a good spanking.”
“Spanking?” Claire wasn’t a prude, but her tastes were a lot less colorful. She was, however, unquenchably curious.
“Mm, yeah. Hot and tingly and stings like hell. Except you’re getting rimmed at the same time, so it’s slow and sweet. Nothing like it.”
Claire smirked. “So I should grow a beard, then?” Jones giggled, and she leaned up to kiss the back of his neck.
“I don’t need you with a beard, I’ve already got--mm, right there.”
He was making an awful lot of noise for a man who’d just been vigorously fucked. “You’ve already got what?”
Jones stiffened.
“I don’t need anybody, I’ve got you. Now keep doing that.”
Claire sat up a bit, relishing his whine of frustration. “Aren’t you going to tell me? I might want a piece of that beardy action for myself. Lord knows you wouldn’t grow it out for me.”
Jones seemed to shrink into the mattress. “I really don’t think he’s your type.” He tried to roll onto his back, but Claire stretched over him and pinned him down with a very satisfying yelp.
“Gay, then? Shouldn’t keep you from telling me about it.”
“Why do you want to know about it?”
“Because it turns me on, you berk. Don’t tell me you have something against dirty talk.”
“I don’t, it’s just…it sounds really boring. I don’t think you’d like it.”
“Licking arseholes is boring now. Got it.” She was getting mildly annoyed. Why should it matter if he was fucking somebody else? She didn’t even know any dirty, unshaven gay men with aggression issues.
Claire made a noise like an angry raptor.
“You cunt! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Come on, Claire, just let me…”
“What, explain? Please, Jones, tell me what brilliant justification you have for fucking my brother behind my back!”
“It weren’t supposed to end up like this! Please, Claire, you’re gorgeous and sexy and I love getting off with you. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
The front door slammed so hard it rattled his stereo equipment. The blanket lay where Claire had dropped it, halfway through the bedroom door and next to the lonely pile of his divested clothing. Her wallet was still on the nightstand, but she had her phone.
She was probably already talking to Dan.
“Fuck,” Jones muttered, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and going into the kitchen to make coffee.
--
“That cunt.”
“I need coffee. Can I borrow a fiver?”
Dan rolled his eyes, but he fished enough change out of his jacket pockets for Claire to buy a small coffee. She took the cigarette that dropped out too, calling it “interest.” Dan frowned at her across the table.
“This really bothers you, does it?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” She stuck the cigarette in her mouth. “You know where his prick’s been. It’s like incest by proxy.”
Dan wrinkled his nose. Truth be told, he’d imagined Jones in plenty of sexual situations that turned his stomach. From where he stood, shagging Claire couldn’t be worse than what Jones got up to in the club bathrooms.
Dan shrugged with a noncommittal grunt.
“Oh my god.” The cigarette fell out of Claire’s open mouth, and she didn’t even blink when he snatched it off the table. “You still want to fuck him.”
He shrugged again. “What’s it to you? If it freaks you out, you won’t be fucking him anymore anyway.” He leaned back in his chair, pleased with this logic. Claire looked like she was going to be sick.
“Unbelievable. You’d put up with anything for a shag, wouldn’t you? You’re like a bloody teenager.”
“For that kind of breath control, yeah.” You of all people should know that, he thought, before having to shake the resulting mental image from his head.
“And what if it didn’t freak me out? What if you’d found out before I did? Would you tell me, or would you keep on fucking your sister’s sloppy seconds?”
“Hey, now. Who says I’m getting seconds? It’s not like we’ve been keeping schedule.”
Dan’s eyebrows went up. Claire gave a loud, angry sigh and stood, grabbing her coat so roughly that she nearly upended the chair.
“I’m going to work. Nathan will let me shower at his place if I tell him you shit in the bath.”
“Oh, now who’s the mature one?” She was already gone. Dan drank the rest of her coffee and tried not to wonder how often Jones brushed his teeth.
--
Dan tried not to make it a thing. He did have the libido of a teenager, at least when it came to flexible pretty boys with no gag reflex. Still, it needled at the back of his mind all through foreplay, until Dan was sure he wouldn’t be able to come if he didn’t ask.
“You’ve never…right after, have you?”
“Mrgph?” Jones responded, peering up annoyed through his sweaty fringe.
“With Claire. In between, you…washed, right?”
Jones pulled off, rolling his eyes. “Her cunt’s not radioactive, Dan.” Dan tried not to cringe at the explicit terminology, despite having called Claire the same word himself. He could already feel his erection wilting.
“She’s my sister, Jones. It’d be weird if you sucked me off right after being with her. I don’t want…cross-contamination.”
That earned a snort. “You’re six, you are. Afraid I’ll give you cooties with my dirty mouth?”
Dan sat up. “You know what, it’s fine. I’d expect a spoiled only child to have a sick incest fetish.” He began pulling his trousers up. Jones whined, which did nothing to dispel Dan’s accusations.
“Come on, I didn’t mean it. I never fucked you on the same night, cross my heart.” He crawled over and wiggled into Dan’s lap. “When I’m with you, she’s the last thing on my mind. All I want is a big, hairy northerner to ravage me senseless.”
The grinding was doing wonders for Dan’s confused cock. “Don’t catch her on the full moon, then.”
Jones let out a little gasp, eyes going wide. He froze immediately, watching Dan like a kid with a broken plate behind his back.
“Get off,” Dan growled. This time, he left the room first and did up his trousers second.
--
They had the decency to limit their amorous encounters to times when Claire was at work. After ten days of discretion, Dan decided he’d earned the right to wake Jones up for a midnight fuck. Jones, who loved nothing more than being plowed into the mattress and having Dan’s hand over his mouth, didn’t bother to protest.
The whole scenario left Dan inordinately pleased with himself. The feeling lasted until he left the bathroom and saw the kitchen light on.
“Enjoying yourself, Dan?” Claire was nursing a cup of tea, a scowl, and spectacular bedhead. He felt his gaze wandering over the floor tiles.
“Sorry. Tried to keep him quiet.” After a few painful seconds, Dan walked to the cupboard. He took out a box of stale chocolate biscuits and fished around for a whole one.
“Bet you fucking did.”
“Yeah, I fucking did. Not my fault he’s got the biggest mouth in London.”
“It’s what gags are for, Christ.”
Dan whipped around. Claire wore condescension like a natural musk, but he’d never expected to hear her berate him over sex toys. He was too dumbstruck to be disgusted.
“What did you say?”
Claire buried her face in her arms and groaned. “Oh god. I tried, I really did. But he’s such a fucking slut, I can’t take it anymore.”
Patting her on the back seemed like the wrong course of action, so Dan poured out the rest of the hot water. “I think he misses you, too.”
He sat down across from her. The absurdity of the scenario didn’t escape him, but he had noticed Claire’s mood deteriorate since she stopped fooling around with Jones. He had that effect on people, like his enthusiasm was somehow catching. It already did a decent job of counteracting Dan’s migraines.
“We could switch off days. Or you could get him in the morning, and I get him at night.”
“Not fair. He doesn’t wake up until five.” There was a little smile on her face, and Dan felt a swell of accomplishment. It wasn’t often that he felt like a competent older brother who could actually fix things.
Claire raised her mug. “It takes two to handle him properly, anyway.” The dull clink of ceramic was loud in the quiet flat.
--
For a while, everything at the House of Jones was bliss. Regular orgasms and a lack of useless pissing contests had both Ashcrofts in a good mood. The difference was so pronounced that Jones wondered if they’d gotten into his pill stash.
Then there were times when it felt like Jones was the one tripping. He would taste Dan on Claire’s skin, hear Claire’s blunted vowels from Dan’s lips, reach across the bed in the night and touch warm skin and not remember which one he’d fallen asleep with.
However good it was, Jones was still teased by the unattainable. Thoughts of being surrounded, a cock against his arse and tits against his chest and northern brogue in his ears, crowded into his mind whenever he was feeling frisky. He managed to squeeze between them every time they stood within two feet of each other, and he got slightly hard when they so much as made eye contact.
Incest was wrong, but that was like, creepy dads and nine-year-olds. Claire and Dan were adults. And if Jones had learned anything from childhood, it was that sharing made everything better.
--
After a long night at the office and an even longer bath, Claire went straight to the kitchen. Sitting at table with the kettle on, checking her email and nibbling on last night’s takeaway, helped soothe the throbbing pain Nathan put in her sinuses.
Before the water could boil, she heard a door slam. Dan appeared in the doorway, a button-down thrown hastily over his boxers, and immediately began yanking open drawers.
“Fucking wanker. I’ve had it up to here. This is the last time he pulls this shit with me.”
Claire didn’t particularly mind if he and Jones argued, but if it made Dan stop in the middle of sex, he was almost certainly overreacting.
“Cool it, Dan, he probably just wants a spank--what the hell are you doing? Put that down!”
When he turned around, his eyes were wild. “No, Claire. He’s gone too far this time. If you’d heard him, you’d be fighting me for the rolling pin right now.”
Claire pushed past Dan and made her way to the bedroom. Jones was cuffed to the bed, and judging by the state of his cock, he’d been there for quite some time. Claire averted her eyes.
“Okay, out with it.”
He looked down at his stomach. That was the first red flag--puppy dog eyes usually worked on her, and he only avoided them because he knew he was a rubbish liar. “It wasn’t that bad. Not really.”
“Out. Be good, and I’ll try to talk him down.” His breath hitched a little at that, and Claire felt a pang of remorse for abusing his kinkiness. But Dan was sexually frustrated and wielding a rolling pin; the time for delicacy had passed.
Jones bit his lip. His head was angled down, and he mumbled the words into his arm so that she could barely hear him. “I might’ve commented on the fact that you both make the same whimpery noise when you’re about to come.”
Unfortunately, she’d always had good hearing.
Claire flushed bright red and let out an embarrasing shriek, then left the room and shut the door behind her.
“What was that again? ‘Cool it, Dan, he’s just trying to get a spanking’?”
She refused to dignify his smugness with a glance. “Give it here.”
He laughed, and it made Claire want to choke him. “But it’s just who he is. Can you really punish him for expressing his twisted need to watch us fuck each other?”
Jones winced when Claire threw the door open. He kept fidgeting (understandably) and his cock was still at full attention. She walked over to the side of the bed.
“I don’t know what you wanted to do with this, Dan, but the more I look at him, the more I like it.” She let the rolling pin fall into her palm with a heavy smack, and Jones flinched. Claire’s remorse was evaporating quickly.
“I thought spreader bar, actually, but you’re a smart girl. You’ll think of something.”
All traces of Dan’s aggression were gone. Jones was flashing the baby blues now, but he hadn’t lost his erection yet. Well, she knew his safeword.
“I like your idea. Be a love and grab some stockings from the bottom drawer.”
They worked quickly as a team. Jones was trussed up within minutes, ankles pinned and knees spread and cock leaking all over the blankets. He looked up at them like a puppy who’d just been stepped on, begging and pleading like he actually wanted them to let him go.
“Please, Claire, he’s been making me wait for hours. I’m just about ready to explode. I’ll do anything you want, I’ll be such a good boy if you let me come. You can do whatever you want to me.”
Claire looked over at Dan, who was recovering his trousers from the floor. “Think’s he’s earned it?”
“I think we should leave him here until he’s learned his lesson.”
“But he’s taking up the whole bed.”
Dan shrugged. “The sofa should be fine, as long as we snuggle.”
They shut the door on Jones’ indignant shriek. Claire breathed a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall. “How long do you think he’ll actually last?”
“Give it a couple hours. If he gets too loud, we’ll gag him.” Dan began buttoning his shirt. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink.”
Claire smiled. “Sounds good.”
Sibling pub nights were few and far between. Jones could wait until morning.
Pairings: Jones/Claire, Jones/Dan
Wordcount: 3917
Warnings: Incest! Well, no actual incest, just near constant references to it. Also contains very rough language, very aggressive Dan, and a bit of light dub-con for seasoning.
A/N: This is written for karaokegal's Come As You're Not Halloween party, because have I mentioned the incest? It's also the darkest comedy I've written in a while. Nathan Barley is a horrible influence and I had way too much fun writing this.
Claire was pissed the first time she fucked Jones. Not so pissed that she couldn’t say no, but enough that the beats pounding through the wall felt like lizards raking their sharp little claws across her brain.
“Turn that bloody racket down,” she shouted from the kitchen. The cupboard held a bottle of mustard and ten different kinds of sugary cereal, but no tea. It frustrated Claire almost to the point of tears.
There was a muffled response from the front room, but the music remained at full volume. Claire slammed the cupboard, walked out of the kitchen and behind where Jones was bouncing at his decks like a kitten on amphetamines, and yanked a handful of cords out of the wall. The silence was so suffocating that it made her headache worse.
“What was that for?” When Jones got angry, his voice reached pitches typically reserved for schoolgirls. He stared at her, blue eyes massive with disbelief, and Claire wanted to comb his hair and make him a cheese sandwich almost as much as she wanted to smack him.
“Turn that fucking noise down, or I’ll smack you.” Claire wasn’t a violent person, not by any stretch, but alcohol obliterated her sense of restraint. Surprisingly, Jones gave her a quizzical look, the hurt softening from his face.
“Would that make you feel better?”
Claire didn’t know how to take that. What kind of person said that? Was it a self-flagellating impulse (unlikely), or was he that eager to appease her mood (doubly unlikely)? Did he get some kind of sick pleasure from being hit by angry drunk women?
Claire grabbed the loose fabric of his shirt and dragging him into the bedroom behind her. Because she was drunk, it didn’t seem odd that Jones went along with it when he hadn’t actually said anything on the subject.
Jones was bony as hell, poking into her everywhere his weight rested. He smelled sweet and fruity and tangy with sweat, but he tasted like cigarettes. She associated the flavor so strongly with Dan that she yanked her head back.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft but raspy, and she thought that cigarettes might suit him after all. Too impatient to respond verbally, Claire pushed on the top of his head. Jones laughed, and it was almost wild and infectious enough to banish the remainer of her strop.
“Alright, then.” He was good with his mouth, and he dove in with familiar boundless enthusiasm (leaving no room for talking, thank god). Claire came quickly, nearly choking him with her thighs.
“Fuck,” he panted, pushing up on his knees so he could reach his cock. “God, you taste…” He cried out instead of finishing the thought, leaning his sweaty forehead against her hip. Claire went bright red, even though she knew Dan wasn’t in.
“Scream a little louder. I don’t think they heard you in Glasgow.” Jones crawled up to the pillows and sprawled on his back, still wearing a neon pink shirt but naked from the waist down. The thought of Dan walking in on such a scene (and the knowledge that Jones thrashed around in his sleep) was sobering enough for her to collect her clothing and fall exhausted onto the sofa.
--
Dan was pissed the first time he fucked Jones. He’d been draped on the sofa for hours, guzzling beer and trying to keep his eyes on his laptop. Jones had his headphones on and his eyes closed, swaying to the beat in his own little world. The only thing that confused and infuriated Dan more than his lack of shame was the slithery grace in his lean body. Jones was obviously not trying to be seductive, so why did Dan feel seduced?
The more alcohol in his system, the louder and more pointed the complaints Dan muttered to himself. Eventually, a grunted “slag” made it far enough across the room for Jones to look up from his decks and free one ear.
“What’d you say, mate?” He was actually sparkling, shiny with sweat and lip gloss and eyes so big they belonged in an advert for sponsoring South American orphans. It made Dan’s chest feel warm and soupy, and this angered him so much that he shoved his laptop aside and stomped across the room.
“I said you’re a fucking slag,” he growled. Jones’ eyes went even bigger, glancing down Dan’s body to his clenched fists before coming back up. “You’re a filthy little slut, with your stupid hair and your stupid girls’ trousers and your stupid pretty mouth that’s just begging for a cock in it. Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you want somebody to pin you down and fuck your mouth until your lipstick’s rubbed all over your face? Because if you want to make people so fucking mental they can’t help themselves, then keep doing whatever the fuck you’re doing.”
Jones swallowed hard enough for Dan could see the movement of his throat. “You do know you sound like a fucking rapist?”
Dan felt a twinge of remorse--he was an angry person, not a violent one--but it vanished as soon as Jones licked his cherry-red lips. Dan froze as rough, slender fingers snaked around his wrists and up the inside of his forearms.
“Good thing it’s so fucking consensual, yeah?” Then Dan was being kissed by a man for the first time. All he could taste was fruity lip gloss.
Thanks to the beer in his system, Dan warmed up rather quickly. He was soon leaning against the table with skinny legs wrapped around his waist, sucking hard on the salty skin of Jones’ shoulder and rubbing against him in short, frustrating jerks.
“You’re not gonna break your promise, are you?” Jones whispered.
“Promise?”
“Hold me down and fuck my mouth.” His breath was hot against Dan’s ear. Dan was uncertain how anyone could take the ramblings of a drunken idiot as legitimate foreplay, but then Jones flipped them around and dropped to his knees. His face was hidden by messy fringe as he worked Dan’s zip free.
“Oh, fuck.” It hadn’t been that long since Dan was sucked off (yes, yes it had), but he gave a strangled yelp and grabbed the table with shaking hands. Jones popped off with a filthy wet noise, staring up at Dan with something that looked dangerously like a smirk.
“Grab my hair, yeah? I know you want to. And don’t be afraid to thrust.”
“You’re trying to kill me,” Dan moaned. Then he was smothered in tight heat, and he ran his fingers through silky red strands just for something to hold onto.
For a while, he just stood there and watched Jones gulp him down with frightening enthusiasm. From this angle, he looked disturbingly like a woman--thin fingers clutching at Dan’s thighs, soft hair and softer lips masking the unfeminine contours of his jaw and throat, eyes staring up from beneath feathery lashes. Dan was glad for his quick orgasm, because a confusing part of him wanted to rip back the costume and see the man underneath.
Jones had a hand in his trousers, and he rocked back and forth against it, pressing his face against the rough denim of Dan’s leg and rubbing it into his spunk. It was a lot less off-putting than Dan would’ve imagined.
“Fuck,” Jones whimpered. “Oh, Dan, you’re just like…oh.”
He was almost there, but those jeans were too tight to allow much movement. “You can, um,” Dan muttered, awkwardly petting Jones’ head. “Take them off. If you want.”
He felt instantly stupid--Jones had probably left them on because he wanted to, not to please Dan’s queasy heterosexuality--but it made Jones shudder and shout and dig sharp nails into Dan’s bare arse. He slumped at Dan’s feet, breathing hard.
“D’you want to kip in the bed tonight?”
Dan was too pissed to say no.
--
It wasn’t like Jones had planned it.
He was only human, and when a beautiful person of either sex flung themselves at him in a fit of drunken libido, he simply didn’t have the will to push them away. And if that beautiful person had dark hair and wild eyes and a gruff northern lilt to their voice…
Jones was only human. If it were wrong, they wouldn’t both be so bloody attractive. Only a cruel god would expect him to choose. Jones was certain that given the circumstances, his actions were inevitable.
Besides, it wasn’t like they had to know.
--
Claire was the one to figure it out.
Dan was at work, and she knew Nathan wouldn’t be at the office until afternoon. Jones was stretched out on the bed, the cool air against his sweaty back giving him gooseflesh. Claire ran her fingers down the ridges of his spine.
“Jesus, Jones. Did you get bummed by a t-rex?” Her hand hovered above his red, raw arse. She knew he fucked other people and she knew he fucked men, but he’d never worn the evidence quite so shamelessly.
Jones gave a dirty little chuckle into the pillow. “Ever been eaten out by a beardy bloke, Claire?”
Claire gasped. “God, that’s filthy.” She ran her palm over his curved flesh. “Didn’t it hurt?”
“Fuck, yeah. Came in about thirty seconds. Better than a good spanking.”
“Spanking?” Claire wasn’t a prude, but her tastes were a lot less colorful. She was, however, unquenchably curious.
“Mm, yeah. Hot and tingly and stings like hell. Except you’re getting rimmed at the same time, so it’s slow and sweet. Nothing like it.”
Claire smirked. “So I should grow a beard, then?” Jones giggled, and she leaned up to kiss the back of his neck.
“I don’t need you with a beard, I’ve already got--mm, right there.”
He was making an awful lot of noise for a man who’d just been vigorously fucked. “You’ve already got what?”
Jones stiffened.
“I don’t need anybody, I’ve got you. Now keep doing that.”
Claire sat up a bit, relishing his whine of frustration. “Aren’t you going to tell me? I might want a piece of that beardy action for myself. Lord knows you wouldn’t grow it out for me.”
Jones seemed to shrink into the mattress. “I really don’t think he’s your type.” He tried to roll onto his back, but Claire stretched over him and pinned him down with a very satisfying yelp.
“Gay, then? Shouldn’t keep you from telling me about it.”
“Why do you want to know about it?”
“Because it turns me on, you berk. Don’t tell me you have something against dirty talk.”
“I don’t, it’s just…it sounds really boring. I don’t think you’d like it.”
“Licking arseholes is boring now. Got it.” She was getting mildly annoyed. Why should it matter if he was fucking somebody else? She didn’t even know any dirty, unshaven gay men with aggression issues.
Claire made a noise like an angry raptor.
“You cunt! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Come on, Claire, just let me…”
“What, explain? Please, Jones, tell me what brilliant justification you have for fucking my brother behind my back!”
“It weren’t supposed to end up like this! Please, Claire, you’re gorgeous and sexy and I love getting off with you. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
The front door slammed so hard it rattled his stereo equipment. The blanket lay where Claire had dropped it, halfway through the bedroom door and next to the lonely pile of his divested clothing. Her wallet was still on the nightstand, but she had her phone.
She was probably already talking to Dan.
“Fuck,” Jones muttered, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and going into the kitchen to make coffee.
--
“That cunt.”
“I need coffee. Can I borrow a fiver?”
Dan rolled his eyes, but he fished enough change out of his jacket pockets for Claire to buy a small coffee. She took the cigarette that dropped out too, calling it “interest.” Dan frowned at her across the table.
“This really bothers you, does it?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” She stuck the cigarette in her mouth. “You know where his prick’s been. It’s like incest by proxy.”
Dan wrinkled his nose. Truth be told, he’d imagined Jones in plenty of sexual situations that turned his stomach. From where he stood, shagging Claire couldn’t be worse than what Jones got up to in the club bathrooms.
Dan shrugged with a noncommittal grunt.
“Oh my god.” The cigarette fell out of Claire’s open mouth, and she didn’t even blink when he snatched it off the table. “You still want to fuck him.”
He shrugged again. “What’s it to you? If it freaks you out, you won’t be fucking him anymore anyway.” He leaned back in his chair, pleased with this logic. Claire looked like she was going to be sick.
“Unbelievable. You’d put up with anything for a shag, wouldn’t you? You’re like a bloody teenager.”
“For that kind of breath control, yeah.” You of all people should know that, he thought, before having to shake the resulting mental image from his head.
“And what if it didn’t freak me out? What if you’d found out before I did? Would you tell me, or would you keep on fucking your sister’s sloppy seconds?”
“Hey, now. Who says I’m getting seconds? It’s not like we’ve been keeping schedule.”
Dan’s eyebrows went up. Claire gave a loud, angry sigh and stood, grabbing her coat so roughly that she nearly upended the chair.
“I’m going to work. Nathan will let me shower at his place if I tell him you shit in the bath.”
“Oh, now who’s the mature one?” She was already gone. Dan drank the rest of her coffee and tried not to wonder how often Jones brushed his teeth.
--
Dan tried not to make it a thing. He did have the libido of a teenager, at least when it came to flexible pretty boys with no gag reflex. Still, it needled at the back of his mind all through foreplay, until Dan was sure he wouldn’t be able to come if he didn’t ask.
“You’ve never…right after, have you?”
“Mrgph?” Jones responded, peering up annoyed through his sweaty fringe.
“With Claire. In between, you…washed, right?”
Jones pulled off, rolling his eyes. “Her cunt’s not radioactive, Dan.” Dan tried not to cringe at the explicit terminology, despite having called Claire the same word himself. He could already feel his erection wilting.
“She’s my sister, Jones. It’d be weird if you sucked me off right after being with her. I don’t want…cross-contamination.”
That earned a snort. “You’re six, you are. Afraid I’ll give you cooties with my dirty mouth?”
Dan sat up. “You know what, it’s fine. I’d expect a spoiled only child to have a sick incest fetish.” He began pulling his trousers up. Jones whined, which did nothing to dispel Dan’s accusations.
“Come on, I didn’t mean it. I never fucked you on the same night, cross my heart.” He crawled over and wiggled into Dan’s lap. “When I’m with you, she’s the last thing on my mind. All I want is a big, hairy northerner to ravage me senseless.”
The grinding was doing wonders for Dan’s confused cock. “Don’t catch her on the full moon, then.”
Jones let out a little gasp, eyes going wide. He froze immediately, watching Dan like a kid with a broken plate behind his back.
“Get off,” Dan growled. This time, he left the room first and did up his trousers second.
--
They had the decency to limit their amorous encounters to times when Claire was at work. After ten days of discretion, Dan decided he’d earned the right to wake Jones up for a midnight fuck. Jones, who loved nothing more than being plowed into the mattress and having Dan’s hand over his mouth, didn’t bother to protest.
The whole scenario left Dan inordinately pleased with himself. The feeling lasted until he left the bathroom and saw the kitchen light on.
“Enjoying yourself, Dan?” Claire was nursing a cup of tea, a scowl, and spectacular bedhead. He felt his gaze wandering over the floor tiles.
“Sorry. Tried to keep him quiet.” After a few painful seconds, Dan walked to the cupboard. He took out a box of stale chocolate biscuits and fished around for a whole one.
“Bet you fucking did.”
“Yeah, I fucking did. Not my fault he’s got the biggest mouth in London.”
“It’s what gags are for, Christ.”
Dan whipped around. Claire wore condescension like a natural musk, but he’d never expected to hear her berate him over sex toys. He was too dumbstruck to be disgusted.
“What did you say?”
Claire buried her face in her arms and groaned. “Oh god. I tried, I really did. But he’s such a fucking slut, I can’t take it anymore.”
Patting her on the back seemed like the wrong course of action, so Dan poured out the rest of the hot water. “I think he misses you, too.”
He sat down across from her. The absurdity of the scenario didn’t escape him, but he had noticed Claire’s mood deteriorate since she stopped fooling around with Jones. He had that effect on people, like his enthusiasm was somehow catching. It already did a decent job of counteracting Dan’s migraines.
“We could switch off days. Or you could get him in the morning, and I get him at night.”
“Not fair. He doesn’t wake up until five.” There was a little smile on her face, and Dan felt a swell of accomplishment. It wasn’t often that he felt like a competent older brother who could actually fix things.
Claire raised her mug. “It takes two to handle him properly, anyway.” The dull clink of ceramic was loud in the quiet flat.
--
For a while, everything at the House of Jones was bliss. Regular orgasms and a lack of useless pissing contests had both Ashcrofts in a good mood. The difference was so pronounced that Jones wondered if they’d gotten into his pill stash.
Then there were times when it felt like Jones was the one tripping. He would taste Dan on Claire’s skin, hear Claire’s blunted vowels from Dan’s lips, reach across the bed in the night and touch warm skin and not remember which one he’d fallen asleep with.
However good it was, Jones was still teased by the unattainable. Thoughts of being surrounded, a cock against his arse and tits against his chest and northern brogue in his ears, crowded into his mind whenever he was feeling frisky. He managed to squeeze between them every time they stood within two feet of each other, and he got slightly hard when they so much as made eye contact.
Incest was wrong, but that was like, creepy dads and nine-year-olds. Claire and Dan were adults. And if Jones had learned anything from childhood, it was that sharing made everything better.
--
After a long night at the office and an even longer bath, Claire went straight to the kitchen. Sitting at table with the kettle on, checking her email and nibbling on last night’s takeaway, helped soothe the throbbing pain Nathan put in her sinuses.
Before the water could boil, she heard a door slam. Dan appeared in the doorway, a button-down thrown hastily over his boxers, and immediately began yanking open drawers.
“Fucking wanker. I’ve had it up to here. This is the last time he pulls this shit with me.”
Claire didn’t particularly mind if he and Jones argued, but if it made Dan stop in the middle of sex, he was almost certainly overreacting.
“Cool it, Dan, he probably just wants a spank--what the hell are you doing? Put that down!”
When he turned around, his eyes were wild. “No, Claire. He’s gone too far this time. If you’d heard him, you’d be fighting me for the rolling pin right now.”
Claire pushed past Dan and made her way to the bedroom. Jones was cuffed to the bed, and judging by the state of his cock, he’d been there for quite some time. Claire averted her eyes.
“Okay, out with it.”
He looked down at his stomach. That was the first red flag--puppy dog eyes usually worked on her, and he only avoided them because he knew he was a rubbish liar. “It wasn’t that bad. Not really.”
“Out. Be good, and I’ll try to talk him down.” His breath hitched a little at that, and Claire felt a pang of remorse for abusing his kinkiness. But Dan was sexually frustrated and wielding a rolling pin; the time for delicacy had passed.
Jones bit his lip. His head was angled down, and he mumbled the words into his arm so that she could barely hear him. “I might’ve commented on the fact that you both make the same whimpery noise when you’re about to come.”
Unfortunately, she’d always had good hearing.
Claire flushed bright red and let out an embarrasing shriek, then left the room and shut the door behind her.
“What was that again? ‘Cool it, Dan, he’s just trying to get a spanking’?”
She refused to dignify his smugness with a glance. “Give it here.”
He laughed, and it made Claire want to choke him. “But it’s just who he is. Can you really punish him for expressing his twisted need to watch us fuck each other?”
Jones winced when Claire threw the door open. He kept fidgeting (understandably) and his cock was still at full attention. She walked over to the side of the bed.
“I don’t know what you wanted to do with this, Dan, but the more I look at him, the more I like it.” She let the rolling pin fall into her palm with a heavy smack, and Jones flinched. Claire’s remorse was evaporating quickly.
“I thought spreader bar, actually, but you’re a smart girl. You’ll think of something.”
All traces of Dan’s aggression were gone. Jones was flashing the baby blues now, but he hadn’t lost his erection yet. Well, she knew his safeword.
“I like your idea. Be a love and grab some stockings from the bottom drawer.”
They worked quickly as a team. Jones was trussed up within minutes, ankles pinned and knees spread and cock leaking all over the blankets. He looked up at them like a puppy who’d just been stepped on, begging and pleading like he actually wanted them to let him go.
“Please, Claire, he’s been making me wait for hours. I’m just about ready to explode. I’ll do anything you want, I’ll be such a good boy if you let me come. You can do whatever you want to me.”
Claire looked over at Dan, who was recovering his trousers from the floor. “Think’s he’s earned it?”
“I think we should leave him here until he’s learned his lesson.”
“But he’s taking up the whole bed.”
Dan shrugged. “The sofa should be fine, as long as we snuggle.”
They shut the door on Jones’ indignant shriek. Claire breathed a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall. “How long do you think he’ll actually last?”
“Give it a couple hours. If he gets too loud, we’ll gag him.” Dan began buttoning his shirt. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink.”
Claire smiled. “Sounds good.”
Sibling pub nights were few and far between. Jones could wait until morning.