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It was April 11th that you showed up, bags in hand, expression blank, and claiming to be ready to “party hard for the Egg-bro.” Dave resisted the urge to close the door, lock it, and calmly walk away, and go with the more mature option of actually letting you in. You made quick work of settling yourself in- taking over the spare room with your clothes, puppets, and who knew what else.
You generally hung around, trying to annoy Dave, crawl under his skin, or trying to scare the crap out of him. Unfortunately for you, none of your tactics succeeded in completing any of the listed goals. In fact, all was fairly normal until the morning of John's birthday.
The three of you sat in the kitchen- Dave hovering near John, John near the counter, mixing batter, and you, with your legs kicked up lazily on the kitchen table. You idly chatted about the day's scheduled events, reconfirming when Rose and Jade would arrive, and what would happen after their posse was once again reunited.
After reconfirming that Jade would be coming around 2pm, Dave lazily reached out a finger, dipping it into the cake mix before sucking it off his finger. Your gaze fixated on Dave, but quickly shifted when you heard John's voice. “Dave, please don't eat the raw cake batter. You'll upset your stomach with the raw eggs.” He sighed, shook his head and moved the batter away. You watched the flush slowly creep along your younger brother's cheeks as he nodded obediently.
In response, he frowned and murmured something in apology. In watching your lips, you clearly made out, “I'm sorry, Daddy.” John only smiled before he returned to baking the cake for his guests.
You, on the other hand, were stunned. Stunned and oh-so pleased with the dirt you just accidentally dug up on your brother. Sliding your feet to the ground, you quietly walked out of the room, pleased with your newest findings.
The fact that John and Dave were “a thing” hardly shocked you. You knew your baby brother was at LEAST partially homo from the moment he was deposited into your arms. John and he had been inseparable for years, and the transition from graduating high school together to getting their first apartment together came as no surprise to neither you, nor John's dad. The subtle things gave them away, though. Namely, the way John looked at Dave. He couldn't look more like a lovestruck fool if he were torn right out of a cheesy romcom. On Dave's end, it was how he sat just a bit too close to John, or touched him when it wasn't necessary. They doted on each other, and it was fucking adorable. Baby's first ~real~ homo relationship. You had never been so proud. John was much better than the last kid Dave brought home, anyway.
What did shock you was the possibility of a legitimate Daddy kink. Sure, Dave was a Strider. He was bound to have a slew of crazy kinks, but you'd never pinned that particular one to him. You felt like a child, eager to play with the new toys you found. This particular toy was Dave's sanity, and you had a feeling you'd play with it until it broke.
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You couldn't figure out what your brother is trying to do. Not that you had ever been able to fully grasp just what was going on in his crazy head, but usually you at least had an inkling of an idea. Late in the afternoon on April 13th, 2016, this was not the case. You were completely baffled by your brother's behavior.
He kept giving you weird looks, or ruffling your hair, subtle things that he'd never done in the past. You had a strong suspicion that he was starting to realize that you were all grown up and he didn't like it.
You also had a feeling that your strong suspicion was very, very wrong.
Jade and Rose's presence eased the tension significantly, though, and you were happy to spend the day with all four of you together once more, even if Bro hung around awkwardly. Dinner passed without any issues, as did breakfast the following morning.
In fact, you almost forgot about your brother's odd behavior until it picked right back up again.
While you rummaged through the kitchen, Bro stuck his head in, “Davey, would you be a doll and bring me a soda when you come back in the livin' room?” Confused but compliant, you nodded, putting away the last dish from the dishwasher. After he left, you shuffled over to the fridge, grabbing him an orange soda before stepping into the living room.
Once you handed over the soda, he did something even more strange. He reached forward, ruffled your hair and gave you a smile that made your stomach flutter. “Thanks, kid,” he said appreciatively, and your stomach churned in a similar way once more.
Feeling uncomfortable, you simply left the room once more, busying yourself in your room with your laptop. No need for your thoughts to linger on that.
These small events continued over the course of that day, as well as the next. It was only late in the evening that it became apparent just what he was trying to do.
At the early time of 10pm, John turned in. He gave you a warm smile, patted your shoulder and hummed, “Goodnight, Dave. Don't stay up too late.” A normal, friendly concern. That's what it was to everyone else.
You did try to stick to his word- you crawled into your bed at around 11pm, but found yourself restless. Finally giving up, you drew yourself from your bed several hours later, settling yourself on the couch to watch whatever bad infomercials aired at this ungodly hour. Curled up beneath a blanket, your thoughts were drawn from the Wonder Bra as your brother stepped out into the living room, brows raised. Wordlessly, he walked into the kitchen, got himself a glass of water, only to stand near the couch.
You pretended to ignore him. He cleared his throat, and finally you decided to acknowledge him.
“Yes?” You asked flatly, annoyed and tired.
“Isn't it a bit late for little boys to be up? I thought you were told to go to sleep early, Davey.”
Your face paled as you realized just what all of this was about. Somehow, he found out about you and John's.... thing. Immediately, your mind raced into overdrive as your cheeks tint pink. You had no idea what you two could have done to tip him off. No one else had ever picked up on it before... unless they had and kept quiet. It was true that only Bro lacked tact to the extent that he'd use a man's kinks against him. The thought actually sickened you.
Instead of fighting it, you flicked off the TV, stood, and exited toward your room.
“Good boy,” you heard him coo softly behind you.
Oh, how you wanted to punch him squarely in the face.
You had two more days of this bullshit before Bro went home. You hoped to every God ever worshiped that this would be the extent of his teasing. But of course, it wasn't.
The day following, the teasing never let up. Bro continued to taunt you, ruffling your hair, cooing soft words of praise, calling you “kiddo,” “Davey,” or “good boy.” You wanted to scream. To throttle the bastard and punch his front teeth out. Make him cough up blood until he was coughing up apologies.
But you didn't. You were still the bigger person and could handle this maturely, even if he couldn't.
That attitude was what got you into trouble.
He came up behind you while you washed the dishes from dinner, rubbing your shoulders gently. “What a good boy, doing the dishes without even being asked. I'm so proud of you.” Queue hair ruffle. Unable to stop yourself the rage boiled up within you, and even you were surprised as you felt your hand connect sharply with his face, and your mouth, seemingly of its own will, say, “Shut the fuck up.”
His shock mirrored yours, though your own was shortly followed up by a feeling of dread. You looked over to John, his lips pulled into a hard frown and his brows drawn together. He didn't have to say anything for you to know how disappointed in you he was. He also didn't have to say a word for you to know what to do about that.
Instantly, you made a beeline for your room, quietly closing your door behind you. John would come in and let you out once your time-out was over. For now, you only had time to wallow in your own misery. At least another half hour to think about what you've done and the consequences of that.
A half hour stretched on, though. Instead turning into several hours. You fell asleep, curled up on your side and moping to yourself. It was later in the evening, about 10pm, that John finally stepped into your room, softly letting the door click closed behind him. It was still enough to rouse you from your slumber, though, and you wearily lifted your head to look at him.
With a soft smile, he sat on the bed beside you, stroking your hair softly as he spoke. “Davey, honey.. hey-look at me.” With a finger, he drew your chin up so you were looking directly at him. “I know you were angry, but it's not okay for us to hit people just because of that. As much as I hate doing this, it's for your own good, okay?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat and try not to look eager as he took off his belt, then carefully laid you across his lap. Trailing a hand over your back, then around to your midsection, he popped the button on your jeans, then tugged them down along with your boxers, leaving them around your knees, and leaving you unable to escape.
You had no complaints as you heard him draw back his arm, bracing your body for the blow.
In a swift motion, he brought down his belt with a crack against your ass, leaving you whimpering, your ass stinging and red. He rubbed your butt gently with one hand, shushing you softly. “Shh, Dave, Dave, I'm so sorry.” Tucking your head into the crook of your arm, you whined, hearing the swish- crack of the belt again, then feeling the pain increase tenfold. That did nothing to stop the boner that John had definitely noticed, though.
Setting the belt aside, he once again rubbed your butt, and you took the time to relish the feeling. His hand was cool against the hot, irritated flesh, but you knew it wasn't over yet. It started with a pat, escalating to a soft smack that left the air stuck in your throat. Soon enough, he fell into a rhythm of slow, gentle rubbing, shortly followed by sharp, quick slaps against your ass.
Having got his fill of that, John once again brought the belt back, letting it crack against your skin, but giving you longer breaks between each blow for you to recover. You were just distracted enough not to hear the door open, though you felt John's head jerk up to look.
Finally confusion settled in as the blows didn't return, and you raised your head, blinking teary eyes to get them to focus, only to freeze. Bro tsk-ed at you. “Such naughty boys shouldn't be handled so gently, John. You need to learn how to properly punish your little one. He's gotten far, far out of line.”
The condescending tone he used goes straight to your cock, making you feel like the fucking scum of the earth. He only enhanced this feeling as he stepped close, grabbing you by the back of your hair and pulling you up. Your stomach clenched as John didn't stop him, instead looking on with an intense curiosity as Bro propped one foot on the bed, then bent you over one knee. One hand remained firmly tugging at your hair, the other pulling back to resume hitting you.
If John was harsh, then Bro was cruel, heartless, and unforgiving as he repeatedly spanked you. Only pausing to ask John for a paddle, your lover was happy to oblige. Your brother was even worse with the paddle, using every blow to accentuate his words.
“Little boys. Should not. Step out. Of line. Do you understand?” He paused at the end of his question, and you trembled, drool leaking from your mouth and your eyes flooded with tears. A short gasp, followed by a nod, and he stopped, smiling gently. Carefully pulling your body upright by your sides, he used his thumbs to brush away the tears. “Shhh, sh. You're okay, darling. You're okay.”
And fuck, you were. You were so okay. You were okay as hell and hard as a rock, and he could see that. With a fond smile, he stroked you hair, “Daddy and I are gonna show you something nice now, okay?”
With a glance over to John, who appeared to have no complaints, you nodded slowly, eyes wide. He smiled in return, lifting you up, only to gently lie you on the bed. John moved close, smiling at you and kissing your forehead. “Such a good boy,” he cooed, wiping away the last of the tears.
The only response you could muster was a soft moan, any coherent words taken from you as Bro pulled your legs up, rested them on his shoulders, then leaned forward to tease your entrance. With a shudder, you pressed back against him, his tongue slipping in carefully and eliciting a gasp from you. He pulled back for a moment, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs and smoothing his hands along your sore ass.
He took his sweet time while John rested your head in his lap, massaging your shoulders and occasionally dipping lower to play with a nipple. He hunched over, pressing kisses to your lips, jaw, and neck, taking his time as he nibbled and sucked at the places he knew you liked best.
The feeling was second only to Bro's lips wrapping around your cock, sucking as he bobbed. Your hands found their way to his hair, not pulling, but rather slipping through it as he continued to pleasure you.
You had to admit, Bro's porno career must have paid off in some way. The way he swirled his tongue almost lazily around your cock, the metal stud in his tongue grazing your hot skin, was fucking mind-blowing. Too tired to do much else, you watched him as he sucked you off, damning yourself for thinking about his perfect porn-star lips. John chuckled lowly in your ear, continuing to kiss along your skin as he turned just enough to pull himself from his pants, lazily jerking himself off. It took you a moment, but you also realized that Bro was doing the exact same thing, based on the way he rocked ever-so-slightly while deepthroating you.
God, that shit was great. Pulling away from John's lips, you told him so. “Bro...” you moaned quietly, your hips bucking up into his mouth. He pulled off with a smile, using his free hand to keep working you as he ducked his head a bit lower, leisurely licking at your balls. John chuckled in response, looming over you with a kiss and a murmur, “What, forgot about me, Davey?”
Reaching out, you helped him jerk himself off, staring at him as you felt Bro once again take you into his throat. Within a span of thirty seconds, your hips were once again jerking upward. He permitted you to continue like this, his free hand rubbing your inner thigh. Your own hands busied themselves with John, who continued to murmur sweet nothings to you, kissing your neck, praising you for your good work.
Between the two of them, it wasn't long before you felt the tension in your lower abdomen build, your pace with Bro growing more frantic. He took it willingly, not even flinching as your hips arched and your fingers tugged roughly at his hair, thrusting one last time before spilling into his throat. Almost tenderly, he cleaned your softening dick off, only to stand up, lean over you, and continue to jerk himself. It took neither him nor John long with your help, and soon the two let out soft grunts, John finishing on your chest just a few short seconds before your brother.
After milking themselves dry, the silence hung heavy and awkward above them, though Bro seemed relatively unaffected. He stood up, walking out to grab a washcloth to you. Appreciating the gentle gesture more than you had anticipated, you allowed your head to fall back onto John's lap, only to be dragged into a more suitable position.
The last feasibly recalled memory you had before finally dozing off was how great it felt to be sandwiched between “Daddy” and “Bro.”