Work Text:
It's always strange to watch Allelujah at work. Despite the looks, he and Hallelujah are poles apart. Opposite ends of a very beautiful spectrum. But, if you look close enough, and Lyle is a master of watching things closely, you can spot similarities between them.
Allelujah shifts, warm light from the bare light bulb glancing off the muscles of his back, and Lasse's legs shiver. Lyle takes a deep breath, slows his hand on his cock until it's nothing more than a delicate brush of skin, until he can hardly feel it at all, and tries his best to pay attention. Because Lyle knows that these moments are where it is most important, where the similarity is most evident.
Actions always speak louder than words.
Allelujah leans in to kiss Lasse's neck, and it's there, right there, where Hallelujah likes to do the same thing, only it's lips not teeth that are on Lasse's skin, and they're grazing not puncturing. Lasse's hips rise from the bed, following Allelujah's hand as it pulls away, and Lasse says something half-jumbled and incoherent, but Allelujah just smiles.
Lyle wonders if Allelujah knows... if he ever considers how similar he is to his other half. Allelujah's fingers brush Lasse's hip, in exactly the same spot, but it's teasing, not painful. There will be no bruises on Lasse's skin tomorrow. Lyle takes the time to squeeze his cock harder again, his hips rolling up into his fist with the new-found rhythm, and he figures that maybe Allelujah does know, that maybe Allelujah has experienced Hallelujah just like they all have, that maybe Hallelujah's made Allelujah beg and cry and scream for him too. But Lyle's only guessing.
There are no screams and shouts this time, no taunting words and filthy phrases, only smiles and fluttering kisses, and Lasse is whispering, "please please please please please", but Allelujah ignores him. It's slow, when Allelujah presses himself inside, and well lubricated, and the way Lasse's shoulders rise strongly from the bed are a testament to how good it must feel. But Allelujah isn't watching, and his eyes are squeezed shut as a breathless grin spreads across his face, and, just for a moment, they look the same.
Lyle bites his lip and looks away for a second, and he hears, rather than sees Allelujah's hips start to move. Lasse asks for more and harder, and instead of a slap of a hand connecting with a cheek, it's the noise of lips on lips that resounds through the room.
It's a funny thing. How twins could be so different, yet so similar, and yet so different at the same time.
Lyle looks back over just in time to see Allelujah's fingers curl around Lasse's cock again, all stroking soft and gently, and Lasse moans. Lyle copies the action on his own cock, enjoying it for a few seconds, before he digs his nails in hard enough to hurt and grins breathlessly, remembering harsh words and the sting of fingers on his cheek.