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With the TV volume turned up, both Felix and Jisung are trying to focus on the low-budget romcom movie—the type that’s only aired on Sunday afternoons. It’s not easy to tune out their father’s loud banging from the kitchen. He says he’s cooking them dinner, but they both know that it won’t take long before he runs out of the house to get some takeaway pizza.
Well, ignoring him isn’t the only thing they are doing. Felix is also doing his very best at not giving Jisung any attention. So much so, in fact, that the two of them are sitting on completely different sides of the sizable couch their father invested in after his divorce.
Chan, their older brother, is somewhere, too, but Felix doesn’t have the energy to think about him, especially not when he’s still fuming after Jisung’s stupid antics.
“And now he’ll miss his flight,” Jisung sighs, hands defeatedly thrown up in the air. “That always happens. These movies are so fucking predictable.”
“I’m trying to watch,” Felix says under his breath.
“Right, mister movie connoisseur here is carefully analyzing the very important plot that wil,l in a few minutes, involve a great misunderstanding that neither of the characters can—”
“Will you just shut the fuck up?” Felix barks out. “Didn’t know your mouth had diarrhea.”
“What did you just say?” Jisung says and throws one of the sofa pillows in Felix’s direction.
He, of course, misses because Jisung can’t throw for shit, but it still makes rage crawl up Felix’s neck.
“Guys,” their father suddenly says, disappointment written all over his face. He has a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, and his hair is all disheveled. There’s even some flour on his shirt, to which Felix has no clue why it is there, because that man has never baked anything in his entire life.
“He’s being annoying,” Felix says, lips pouted. His eyes travel back to the TV, ignoring both of them.
“Jisung,” their father says. “Stop being… annoying, I guess.”
“I wasn’t doing anything! I was just talking about the movie. It’s super predictable.”
“You’re being a dick about it,” Felix whispers again. He knows Jisung hears him because he can see the way Jisung’s hand reaches for another pillow with his peripheral vision.
“Whatever is going on between you two,” their father says and points at them both. “Fix it. Or I’ll get Chan and…”
“No!” Felix and Jisung say in unison. If there’s something they don’t want, it’s seeing Chan frustrated with them for what is, admittedly, merely some brotherly annoyance.
“We’re good,” Jisung reassures. “Nothing wrong here.”
“Nothing at all,” Felix agrees.
Their father is already on his way back to the kitchen, mumbling about something entirely else under his breath. Felix peers over at Jisung, who stares right back at him, and both of them shrug before returning their attention to the piss-poor romcom.
At least this time, Jisung doesn’t comment unnecessarily on the actions of the characters. Felix’s pretty happy about that because he has a sneaking feeling he wouldn’t be able to disagree with his brother, especially not after seeing the main characters fumble yet another conversation.
However, Jisung doesn’t remain quiet. A series of whining noises erupts from his mouth, and he rolls his neck dramatically around. Felix can almost hear his poor tendon roll over bone—mimicking the sound of Jisung performing a successful crack.
“Stiff?” Felix asks, the tips of his fingers itch.
“A bit,” Jisung says—practically moans. “Must have slept badly.”
It’s that attitude that does it, Felix wants to say, but he bites down on his lower lip and sinks further down the couch. He’s not going to lose this battle.
“Just like… Ah,” Jisung says, and Felix closes his eyes. “Like on the left side of my neck and down into my shoulder.”
Felix curls up his fists and promptly pushes them into the side of the couch. Instead of giving Jisung any attention, he paws at the thick fabric. It helps, he thinks.
“Must be a large knot.”
Felix swallows. He could go and get his tennis ball. Jisung could use that. Maybe that’ll make him stop bothering him.
“Or two…”
He fucking hates his brother.
“No, shit, there’s three.”
Felix shoots up from his seat and rushes over to his room. As he does, the sound of Chan fiddling with his keyboard and humming to himself trickles through the slight crack in his door. He doesn’t want to bother him, but he can’t help but peek inside.
Unlike Jisung and Felix, Chan isn’t dependent on always being glued to each other. Sometimes that’s a good thing, but sometimes Felix wishes he were a bit more present. But then again, Chan has his own struggles, and they all know to give him some space when he needs it.
Jisung, though, he’ll never be able to have any time away from Felix. Thus, he rushes into his room and grabs the massage oil he almost always has on hand—the days he doesn't are all classified as horrible.
He considers bringing the tennis ball, but since his fingers itch to dig into soft flesh, he foregoes it.
“You’re so annoying,” Felix huffs when he returns.
Jisung offers him a sheepish smile, one that screams of victory. What a douchebag. “Sit up, I’ll work on your neck and shoulders.”
Jisung is quick with it. He moves over to where the couch turns into an L-shape and sits down, making sure there’s plenty of space for Felix to get comfortable. He throws off his hoodie, letting it land on the floor with a thud. Underneath, he has one of his anime t-shirts on, but when Felix throws him a sour look, Jisung discards that piece of fabric as well. Leaving him in only his loose shorts.
“You weren’t kidding,” Felix groans after having dabbed on some of the massage oil. He runs his hands first over Jisung’s skin and tries to ignore how warm his brother feels. “What did you do?”
“Told you,” Jisung shrugs. “I must have slept badly.”
“Right,” Felix sighs.
He smooths his hands over the expanse of Jisung’s upper back. It always shocks him how wide his brother is, and how far in his waist goes. Felix doesn’t allow his hands to dip further down, but since Jisung can’t see his greedy eyes, he lets himself indulge.
Because that’s what this has always been about, right? Felix genuinely likes to give massages, not because he feels the need to help or heal them. No, he does it because it’s his way of quieting the awful fantasies he’s always had.
“Fuck,” Jisung hisses when Felix runs his thumb alongside his left scapula.
The curse is inebriating and Felix can’t help but force another one out of his brother. “Relax,” he says, a coy smile on his lips. “You’re so whiny.”
“You’re doing it too hard, you have— Fuck!”
Jisung arches his back into the touch. Felix digs his teeth into his lower lip and lets out a strained hum. “I’ve barely started,” Felix says, gliding his hands up to Jisung’s neck for what’s probably some much-needed relief.
He aligns his thumbs on either side of his nape and then runs them up until he massages gentle circles into Jisung’s atlas. Now, far away from the deep knots, Felix is rewarded with pleased moans, even skin on Jisung’s shoulder and arms form goosebumps.
Felix continues the movement over and over again until his brother’s head dangles. “Good?” he asks, now dragging his nails down Jisung’s back.
“Incredible,” Jisung hums. “Thank you.”
“Oh,” Felix says, hooking a greedy hand around Jisung’s waist when he threatens to move. “I’m not done.”
“No?” Jisung says, turning his head slightly.
The view of heavy eyelids and a dopey smile sends a rush of excitement into Felix’s insides. He shakes his head and slowly starts to press his brother down onto his stomach.
Felix gives way for Jisung, but crawls on top of him, settling on his barely clothed ass, and reaches for the massage bottle.
“Getting the full treatment,” Jisung says smugly, face smushed into the couch.
“You are,” Felix hums. “And you knew you would.”
“I did,” Jisung laughs, playfully lifting his ass several times so Felix bounces up and down.
Felix snorts. “You better be thankful.”
“Oh, I am,” Jisung says, finally calming down—much to Felix’s relief, because the feeling of Jisung’s ass is more than enough to make his brain turn into mush.
Felix slathers on more oil than needed. Perhaps it’s because he wants a better glide, or maybe it’s because he can’t get enough of seeing Jisung all slicked up. Fuck. He needs to calm his racing thoughts. He’s not going through the humiliation of having Jisung notice his quickly growing erection.
He presses into the flesh and drags his hands up and down Jisung’s back. He makes sure to focus on the ribs, where he knows Jisung has a tendency to hold a lot of stiffness. However, he also allows himself to venture further and further down. Why wouldn’t he? When Jisung can’t stop groaning and moaning into the couch.
His pleased noises, although muffled, set Felix’s brain on fire. The thought of being mindful, of threading carefully, starts to falter.
“You like this, yeah?” Felix whispers.
“So much,” Jisung answers immediately, his hips moving slightly as he readjusts his position.
“Just relax then,” Felix hums. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Another wicked moan spills past Jisung’s lips. Felix is in so much trouble.
He grabs and pulls, almost foregoing what a proper massage should be. He can’t seem to stop. He can’t find the will to remove his attention from Jisung’s small and inviting waist. Even his own stubby hands cover so much of Jisung in this position. God, if he just pressed his hand flat against that curve and angled his own hips, then he’d—
“Could you go lower?” Jisung says, interrupting Felix’s awful thoughts.
“Lower?”
“Yeah, like…” Jisung swallows hard, “the sides of my hips also feel stiff.”
Felix physically stops himself from ripping those barely-there shorts off his body. “S-sure, I can do that,” he says and only allows himself to dip his thumbs barely under the tight waistband.
Although Jisung lets out another inebriating sound, he also shakes his head and looks over his shoulder.
“Even lower? Or is that weird…”
“No, no,” Felix mutters, mostly to himself, but Jisung seems to take it as a reassuring answer. And so, when Felix starts to drag Jisung’s shorts down, his brother lifts his hips to help.
Help. Felix shoots up. He brings one hand to his crotch and presses his palm against his awful erection. It’s meant to soothe himself, but it does absolutely nothing, especially when Jisung takes matters into his own hands and fully drags his shorts past the globes of his ass.
Felix stares.
Dumbly.
The sound of his father’s voice and the subsequent slam of the front door bring him straight back to reality.
“H-here?” Felix says, deep and almost inaudible.
Jisung nods, his one visible eye staring straight at the edge of the couch. Felix lowers his hands once more, gathering some of the slick oil and smoothing it down Jisung’s lower back. Was he always this warm? Was he always this soft?
The supple flesh clings to Felix’s fingers when he starts circling only the upper part of his brother’s ass. He thumbs so long and slow lines down each side, trying his very best to not watch how it slightly spreads Jisung’s cheeks.
“Fuck,” Jisung moans, adjusting himself once more. This time, Felix gasps when his aching length presses somewhat into him.
“Lay still,” Felix corrects weakly. “I’m trying to…”
His words trail off into nothing with every whined sound he hears. And so does his attempt at not going too far. Because slowly but surely, he’s kneading the softest part of his brother’s behind—earning only pleased compliments for doing exactly that.
“Lix,” Jisung says, his jaw somewhat clenched. He adjusts again, but Felix manages to lift himself slightly.
“Lie still, Sungie,” Felix says. He must sound wrecked. He certainly feels it.
“Feels good.”
Felix’s nails dig into Jisung’s skin. A hard lump forms in his throat, and he croaks out, “Yeah? You like it?”
Jisung slowly nods. He doesn’t move his hips again, but Felix can’t help but spot how flushed his neck and cheeks are.
They’re taking it too far this time. All those years spent dancing on the edge of what’s okay and what isn’t, have now come to this. They should stop. They need to stop.
But then why does Felix find himself reapplying oil before tentatively slipping his thumb down there where it shouldn’t be. Jisung inhales sharply, but he doesn’t say anything. In fact, neither of them do. All they do is slowly let the walls they’ve built crumble.
Felix grabs both cheeks and squeezes them over and over again. However, this time, he doesn’t stop when he spreads Jisung and he catches a glimpse of his puckered hole. Instead, he inches closer and closer until he keeps brushing over it.
His own cock strains in his sweatpants. And with the near-silent gasps Jisung releases, he doesn’t manage to stop himself from rubbing slightly against his brother.
“Lix,” Jisung says. “Don’t you dare stop.”
“Fuck…”
The initial ring gives way to his thumb. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut and burrows his face into the couch. Felix continues to prod, switching between pushing and rubbing until he’s suddenly allowed entrance.
“Oh my god,” Felix moans. “Sungie, I—”
“Don’t stop.”
The desperation that coats Jisung’s words doesn’t help either of them. And it doesn’t do shit when Jisung once again readjusts his hips, and Felix’s digit digs in even deeper.
The oil helps with the glide, so much so that without issue, Felix has one finger embedded fully. They’ve already gone too far. There’s no turning back now. Still, he hesitates when he pulls his thumb free and presses his index and middle fingers against the hole.
Moaned pleas fill the air, sucking the two of them further into the mess they’ve created, and before they know it, Felix has a finger hooked on either side of Jisung’s hole, stretching him open.
Lewd. Lewder than anything else, Felix slowly releases a thin line of spit directly into Jisung. Seeing it be him who pushes the slightly white substance into Jisung almost sends him over the edge.
“Please,” the two of them both say in unison. What they are actually asking for, neither of them fully understands. But Felix still digs his hand into his pants and tugs his erection free.
He’s so hard it hurts, and looking at Jisung’s oiled-up body does nothing to help that. This is probably also the part where he should at least ask if he can continue, but Felix doesn’t. He gets up on his knees and rotates his hips somewhat, allowing the tip of his leaking cock to brush against Jisung’s ass.
“Sungie,” Felix forces out, gaze frozen and directed only at where his cock is slowly sliding into his brother.
“Lix,” Jisung moans, hands clawed as they dig into the couch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Shh,” Felix urges. He moves his hand onto the small of Jisung’s back and adds enough pressure that it serves as leverage for his first thrust.
And oh does it feel good. He’s had sex before, but he’s been on the receiving end more than he has been on the giving end, and thus, nervousness and pleasure dance around each other. But he gets the feeling that he oughtn’t be too afraid, because Jisung is meeting every single movement by lifting his ass.
That tiny waist with his hand covering most of it, and the sight of his cock disappearing into Jisung, sends Felix into overdrive. He picks up speed and drives his cock deeper and deeper into him, gasping out loud when he finally bottoms out, and his balls slam into his brother.
“Oh god,” Jisung groans. “That’s so good. That’s so fucking good.”
“You’re taking me so well, Sungie. It’s like you’re meant to be taking me.”
Jisung moves his head to the side once more, giving Felix access to the image of his tear-filled eyes and plump lips.
“You’ve wanted me to fuck you, yeah?” Felix says, forcing himself not to be afraid of the answer.
“For so long.”
His eyes roll back. “Fuck… You can’t—”
“Lix, fuck me harder.”
He doesn’t need to say anything more. Felix grabs his brother’s hips and pistons his cock into him. He does, over and over again, until Jisung’s arms dangle loosely and he succumbs entirely to the pace Felix has decided for them both.
It doesn’t take long before Felix stands on the edge, feeling his orgasm threaten to spill. He hoists his brother up halfway, Jisung now sort of on all fours, and he dives a hand under him, reaching for his cock.
“No, Lix I—”
“You already came,” Felix gasps, his hand now soaked with leftover cum that hasn’t had the chance to soak into the couch yet. “That’s too hot… that’s too fucking hot, I can’t…”
The very second he squeezes Jisung’s half-hard length, Felix comes. His toes curl, and a deep moan pushes past his chest and into the room. Jisung presses his ass back, forcing Felix in even deeper—letting his cum coat every last bit of his insides.
“Lix, that was…”
“What the fuck,” Felix breathes out. His heart hammers loudly, but he’s still holding on to his brother, entirely unwilling to let him go.
“What the fuck indeed.”
Another voice. One that belongs to neither of them penetrates the bubble they’ve made for themselves. Both Jisung and Felix throw their heads to the side and meet the gaze of Chan, who stands in the doorway to his room, leaning casually to the side, his hand halfway down his pants.
“Chan,” Jisung says. It sounds like he’s about to say something else, but Chan interrupts them.
“Dad’s car is pulling up. Shouldn’t you get going?”
Both brothers fly up from the couch. Felix throws a blanket over Jisung’s mess and runs after him. They rush to the bathroom. Felix barely manages to lock the door before the familiar sound of their front door opening reaches their ears.
Frantically, he searches for Jisung’s eyes. He doesn’t need to look long, for they are closer than they’ve ever been.
“Felix,” Jisung whispers.
“Y-yeah? What is it, Sungie?”
Jisung rolls back on the balls of his feet, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he mumbles, and rushes forward, hands cupping Felix’s face as he connects their lips in a desperate kiss.
A simple massage shouldn’t have gone this far.
But Felix can’t help but think that somehow they would have ended up here one day anyway.