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“Traaav,” Griffin whines, in that voice he does, “please fuck me.” Travis admires the state Griffin is in. He’s laying back on the bed, shirt riding up, bare legs spread on either side of Travis’ thighs. Judging by the deep flush across his face, and the inviting body language, Travis can tell his little brother is truly, in this moment, a desperate wreck.
And that’s an odd thought to have. His little brother. Normal brothers don’t do this. Normal brothers can be intimate, sure, but not in this way. What they’re doing is fundamentally wrong, and if anyone were to ever find out, their lives would be ruined beyond repair. Paranoia coils about his consciousness as he suddenly wonders if there's any mind readers in the vicinity.
“Okay,” Travis says. Maybe he’s not nearly as normal as he’d hope.
He reaches over to grab the lube, smearing some onto his fingers. With one hand, he holds Griffin’s thigh, as he gently pushes a finger into him with the other. In trembling nervous fits of adrenaline and stupidity, the two of them have given each other handjobs and blowjobs on a few occasions previously. But tonight is the first time they’ve done this together. This is uncharted territory in their strange relationship. Rightfully so, Travis is cautious. Unsure if Griffin is ready to take a second finger, and too nervous to ask, Travis works with the one for now. Slowly, he pushes the finger in and out of his little brother, watching in awe the way his face changes from neutrally coy, to something a bit more vulnerable as he explores specific spots inside him. One place in particular has Griffin suddenly gasping, the fabric of the sheet balled up tight in his fists.
“More, Trav, c’mon,” he demands, frustrated and needy.
Huffing at Griffin’s impatience, Travis complies, shoving a second finger in along the first. Nearly trancelike, he rhythmically thrusts his fingers inside of Griffin, crooking here and there to see his reaction. Before then, he never really had expected he’d some day know what it felt like to have his younger brother wrapped around his fingers. This is wrong. But, as he sees Griffin’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth gape as his breathing picks up, Travis can’t help but feel this is so very right. His dick seems to agree, not helping his moral case.
Griffin is flushed to his heaving chest by the time Travis adds a third finger. Another thing Travis has learned about his brother from the handful of experiences like this one, is how reactive Griffin can be. He’s worked up so easily, and desperate for touch on top of that. Travis fucks his fingers into Griffin-- who is occasionally quietly whining at this point-- for only a bit longer. After a few moments, he withdraws his fingers, smearing the excess lube onto his dick, and applying more.
Unable to suppress his concern over rushing Griffin, nervousness bubbles up within Travis again as he lines himself up. Thankfully, this anxiety is quelled by Griffin’s eager attitude, as he wraps his legs around Travis’ waist, pulling him in closer. With a careful controlled slowness, Travis pushes into him. Breathing deeply, Travis tries to keep his cool, but the overwhelming sensation overrides his concern as he thrusts the rest of the way into Griffin at once. Letting out a shocked yelp, Griffin curls his legs tighter around Travis, his eyes clenched shut and head thrown back. The sudden, unexpected thrust had panged deep in his gut, leaving a dull ache that he craved to feel more of.
Travis immediately swoops down to kiss him, whispering an apology on his lips. Griffin breathily laughs, “It’s cool, Trav. Just, please raw me so hard I won’t be able to sit tomorrow.” Travis laughs too, at that, and begins properly fucking his brother. He grips Griffin’s hips in his hands, using this grip as leverage as he starts up a steady pace.
Each thrust nearly knocks the wind out of Griffin’s chest. He’s fantasized about this for so long, and now it’s real and tangible and more than he ever could’ve hoped it would be. He looks up at Travis, admires the mix of concentration and quiet pleasure written on his face as he fucks him. An embarrassing, high pitched, whiny moan is pulled out of Griffin’s throat as Travis rubs right against a sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Curiosity piqued, Travis aims for that spot again, and again. Griffin feels as though he just can’t get enough air, he’s breathing so heavy. With every thrust now, his vision is clouded with stars. He can feel his legs shaking from the strain, his muscles beginning to tense up as he tips closer and closer to the edge.
“God you’re-” Travis cuts himself off to take a labored breath, “you look so cute.” He emphasizes the word “cute” with a hard thrust. With that, Griffin cries out, arching his back as the world whites out for a moment. Travis follows soon after, finishing in his younger brother, then slumping onto him as they both try to catch their breath. Once his pulse has stopped racing, Travis kisses Griffin’s neck. Not erotically, but affectionately, as if to silently say “good job!” He kisses his jaw, his cheek (stopping to blow a raspberry into it, of course). He kisses the tip of his nose, then presses a lingering kiss to his lips.
“I love you,” one of them murmurs. “I love you too,” the other agrees.