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Alfred's sure he's never seen anything sexier in his life: his baby brother sitting in front of him, lips red and kiss-swollen, his brow glistening with sweat from their earlier wrestling match, and thick cock poised upright and proud right in front of his Alfred's face. He has to fight the urge to salute it and yell "Stand down, Cadet!". The last time he did that, Matthew refused to let him suck it.
"You're so fucking hot, Mattie," he breathes out lewdly, eyes still locked on the thick length in front of him hungrily.
Even though his eyes are down he can practically feel the eye roll accompanying Matthew's long-suffering sigh, but right as he opens his mouth to whisper another dirty compliment just to annoy him, Matthew's large hand grabs the back of his head and with a hard shove he's pushed down on that thick cock almost fully to the hilt.
A semi-friendly, mid-morning spat-turned-wrestling-match is what got Alfred where he is now. Maybe he's a bit of a masochist, but nothing gets him riled up quite like getting Matthew's large, strong hand clamped around his throat, or his deceivingly lithe but strong arms crushing him around his middle as his fists pound him to oblivion. And maybe Matthew's a bit of a masochist, too--or a sadist, whichever one--because after socking Alfred in the face hard enough to disorient him, he'd dragged his mostly limp body inside the backyard shed, plopped himself on the old, rickety couch Francis had yet to throw out, pulled out his cock and said Suck.
And so Alfred did.
The sudden pressure and stretching makes him gag and his eyes water and it's so, so good that he lets out a muffled, wanton moan around the cock down his throat. Once the initial instinct to flail and push back subsides, Alfred lets his throat gradually open to accommodate the girth, which Matthew quickly takes cue of as he begins to move slowly. Above him Alfred could hear pants and muttered curses, but he couldn't see Matthew due to the (large, strong) hand keeping his head down, gagging him every time he began to get used to the girth and pressure. He whimpers as his eyes begin cross.
"Ah, yeah, that's it," Matthew whispers huskily, amusement tinging his voice. "That's the only way to shut you up, isn't it?"
Despite the satisfaction lacing his voice, Matthew's grip on his hair lessens and he gently tugs Alfred's hair back to pull him off his cock. Alfred almost wants to snort that Matthew thinks he can't handle it--that he thinks even if Alfred couldn't handle it there would be anything keeping him from punching Matthew in the balls until he let go--but it's a sweet gesture so he only rolls his eyes where Matthew can't see.
Feeling the need to salvage his dignity, Alfred plunges his mouth back down to the hilt of Matthew's cock and hallows his cheeks to suck forcefully around it. His throat is smarting in protest something awful, but the choked gasp and renewed strong grip on his hair more than makes up for it.
After giving himself enough time to adjust (but not too much, he doesn't need Matthew's smug, knowing face looking down at him) begins to work his mouth expertly--up, down, up down, tease the tip, hallow out his cheeks, suck hard, slurp, repeat--and the better he goes the more Matthew begins to talk and, fuck, does Matthew know how to make him feel like a dirty slut in all the right ways. A voice in the back of his head is reminding him that Matthew isn't one for dirty talk and he's probably only doing it for Alfred's benefit, but right now isn't the time to melt over the fact that his little brother is really sweet, in a weird way, so he just wantonly moans and whimpers an affirmative when Matthew asks him if he's a greedy cockslut.
Alfred's mind is buzzing and groggy with pleasure, so when his head is suddenly pulled back and the cock slips from his throat and past his spit-slick lips, he only has enough time to let out an ineloquent Uh? before his head is shoved back down onto it, his nose pressed deep into the soft, dark curls at the base of Matthew's cock and the musky scent of sex and Matthew hitting him head-on. The sudden move makes him gag and flail uselessly as tears spill down his cheeks.
He's pulled off again, slower this time, and he stares up, unfocused, at the red, yellow, and black blur above him that is Matthew. He can feel drool running down his chin and through the lightheaded fog circling his mind he can imagine how amazingly fucked he looks right now.
"Can you take it all? You want me to stop?" Matthew inquires above him, but the tone of his voice implies he already knows the answer.
It takes a second for Alfred to regain his senses enough to register the question, but once he understands he simply licks his lips and smirks. "Shit, Matt. Do it again."
Above him Matthew mumbles something like Of course before he pushes Alfred down on his cock again, but not as far as before. When Alfred, a bit annoyed and a lot disappointed, attempts to shove himself down the rest of the way, Matthew starts moving his hips in quick, deep thrusts into Alfred's mouth and his mind goes foggy again.
Matthew's practically fucking his mouth by now and all Alfred can do is sit back on his haunches, eyes crossed and drool spilling out of his mouth, completely boneless and helpless. It's a little embarrassing to know Matthew can reduce him to this, treat him like he's just a hole to be fucked and then thrown away when Matthew's done with him, but there's also something incredibly hot about it, and that part's the most important.
He's pulled off again and when he's not immediately pushed down he turns his blurry eyes upwards questioningly to where Matthew is towering over him. His eyes focus enough for him to make out Matthew's lazily smiling face, his blown pupils and rosy cheeks, and he's suddenly painfully aware he's still hard and aching in his jeans.
"Alfred," he breathes out in such a low voice that Alfred almost doesn't hear him. Matthew's calloused thumb brushes away a stray tear from his cheek ever so gently before he grabs his cock and slaps it against the same cheek with a dirty, wet noise. Alfred blinks rapidly before coming to his senses and growling, face reddening further as he tries to pull away, but Matthew's left hand is still in his hair so he doesn't get far. Matthew drags his cock across Alfred's mouth before slapping against his other cheeks once, twice, three times. Alfred lets out of grunt of disapproval even as his cock twitches in his jeans and his face tilts to give Matthew easier access.
Every time Matthew switches from slapping him in the face to running the head teasingly over his mouth, Alfred has to force himself not to chase it, so pathetically desperate to get it down his throat that he's whimpering and shaking. After a few more seconds of that he's finally fed up. He lets out a frustrated growl and grabs Matthew's wrist after a particularly hard slap across his mouth.
"Quit messing around, canuck" he spits, "You wanna come or not?"
The amused look on Matthew's face doesn't vanish and that makes Alfred even more frustrated. Before Matthew can take control of the situation again, Alfred takes advantage of his stilled hand and takes the cock back into his mouth, letting out a very low, satisfied moan. He tugs Matthew's now limp wrist from his shaft and places his own hand over it, jacking it furiously in time to the thrusts of his mouth.
And maybe all that teasing was in Matthew's plan all along, because now he's just sitting back into the couch with his hands behind his head, mouth open and soft curses spilling through. He looks so smug and satisfied that Alfred wants to kiss him and punch him in the nose at the same time. Or maybe Matthew could do that to him. That could be hot.
Despite the fact that Matthew's no longer fucking his throat or pulling his hair the way he likes, Alfred's still rock hard. Sucking that thick, fat, impossibly hard cock is turning him on a little more than it should, and he's so desperate and his pants are so damn tight and who the hell invented buttons and zippers anyway? After failing to get his pants open or his hand into them he lets out a frustrated growl around the cock in his mouth and settles himself over Matthew's outstretched boot-covered foot. Choosing to ignore the disbelieving laugh from the man above him, he starts to rub himself awkwardly and unashamedly on Matthew's boot, the pressure only slightly relieved but still so good anyway.
Matthew shakes his head, still laughing softly, "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
Okay, now Alfred's really pissed. Cutting his eyes up to Matthew, he hallows his cheeks out and sucks, hard and sloppy, moaning out obscenely and unashamedly. Matthew curses loudly then brings a hand from his head to attach to Alfred's hair, but Alfred's slaps his hand away quickly and it falls limply on the armrest. Alfred picks up the speed of his hand and the thrusts of his hips against Matthew's boot as he feels his orgasm approaching. Above him Matthew is squirming restlessly and cursing in long strings, a sure fire indicator that his orgasm is rapidly approaching as well. Alfred sucks and licks and teases the cock in his mouth, pushing down to the hilt and massaging his balls just so, just the way his Mattie likes it, and the responses he's getting are spurring him closer to his release.
Alfred goes down again, this time the head more easily shifting down his throat, and on the upward slurp he's pulled off roughly by the hair, completely dazed and disoriented, and then Matthew grabs his own cock in hand, pumps twice, and hot come shoots across his face in thick, white ribbons. He only closes his eyes on pure instinct alone because the rest of his mind seems to have completely shut off. Once it finally registers that his baby brother just shot a load across his face, he comes hard and sticky in his own jeans, a high whimper pressing against his come-stained lips.
Matthew pants and smears the come across Alfred's face with his cock in random, lazy patterns. Alfred allows this to go on for a few seconds before yanking his head away and slapping at his brother's hand with a half-hearted insult.
Foggy-mind, sore throat, come-covered face and all, Alfred feels just so rightly used in all the right ways that he allows himself to grin up at Matthew with a wink. Matthew rolls his eyes as he begins to fix himself back up, but there's a grin on his face too, so light and easy that Alfred bets he's not even aware it's there, and that only makes Alfred grin even more. He's not sure why they're smiling--they just messed around in the old, dusty shed where rats shit and raccoons go to mate and, fuck, that's actually disgusting--but he feels too happy to be really concerned about anything.
After putting himself back in his jeans and wiping his hands on the couch, Matthew looks at him with a questioning eye. "You look like a second-rate whore, Al. Go clean yourself up."
Alfred attempts to hurl back an insult, but his throat protests sharply and the only thing that comes out is a hoarse whine. He goes to swallow and his throat stings again. He huffs out angrily through his nose. Welp, there goes enjoying the batch of eclairs the old man made for him.
Matthew laughs at him and his terrible predicament which only makes Alfred huff angrily again. Impulsively, he punches Matthew in the thigh, so close to his crotch that it makes both of them gasp and pause. After the initial shock,an angry growl tears from his throat and Matthew juts out his foot where Alfred's still sitting. Caught off-guard topples over easily with a rough oof. Before he can clamber into a sitting position Matthew's on him and he receives a punch to the face.
Round two! Fight!