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It was quiet.
Saburo closes his eyes. His alarm hasn't gone off yet, not that he's ever needed it much. He always sets one just in case, but most days at least one of his brothers has gotten up before him, so he gets woken up by the sounds and smells of breakfast instead. That, or Jiro wakes him up by being his usual noisy self.
Why was he awake? He knows he went to bed earlier than usual last night, but was it that much earlier? For a night owl like him, this feels unnatural. But for whatever reason Saburo is awake and no amount of pretending to sleep is going to change that.
So he gets up. Sun shines through the blinds, and reminds him that Ichiro did say he'd be gone all morning for a job. It makes it even stranger for him to have woken up, given Jiro's tendency to make a racket when it's his turn to cook. Maybe he went for a jog? It would explain the quiet. Saburo should probably start working on breakfast then.
He should. But he doesn't really want to. It's not even that he hates cooking, although he doesn't particularly like it. It's not that his cooking is bad either... He just likes eating his brothers' cooking. It's one of the few ways that he can be spoiled by them without feeling- well, spoiled. And he'll sooner die than have Jiro realize that he still likes being the doted upon baby brother.
Saburo finds himself stopping in front of Jiro's room after leaving his own. There is still the possibility that Jiro is sleeping in. It's the weekend, so he doesn't really need to get up, but isn't that a bit rude? His poor baby brother is starving over here, you know. Saburo snickers to himself, enjoying the thought of teasing Jiro for sleeping in. He doesn't have anything better to do, so he might as well check on the oaf.
Saburo is quiet as he opens the door, not that he needs to be with how heavy of a sleeper Jiro usually is. And sure enough, his older brother is sound asleep. He's like a starfish, lying on his stomach with his limbs all stretched out. One of his arms dangles off of the side of the bed, and as Saburo gets closer he can see signs of a drool trail on his chin.
Gross, he thinks, with a small smile on his face.
Jiro lets out a half-snore, half-groan, and Saburo contemplates how best to wake the sleeping beauty before him.
No, sleeping beast. Something like that.
A drowsily muttered Sabu pulls him from his thoughts. Saburo sighs, guess he won't get to have his fun after all.
He waits, expecting Jiro to open his eyes and start yelling at him for being in his room, but no such thing happens. Jiro just whines and adjusts himself slightly.
That's. Odd. Saburo isn't sure what he's supposed to do now. Go back to figuring out how he wants to wake him up? But if Jiro might be sleep talking, and might be sleep talking about him, then Saburo needs to hear it.
So he sits on the floor as close as he can get without touching the bed. Like this, it'd be easy to grab a hold of Jiro's hand. It's still hanging off the bed, and Saburo isn't sure why he feels such an urge to reach for it. Embarrassing. Maybe it's an old instinct from the back then that he barely remembers. A trace of that cute little brother that Jiro misses so much.
Jiro's fingers flex, and Saburo wonders if that's what he's dreaming about. Of back when Saburo still clung to him, of when the only thing that was certain in life was each other. Thinking about it makes his chest hurt.
Another groan, another Saburo, but this time. This time he swears it looks like Jiro tries to thrust against his bed.
So. Probably not a melancholic dream about their lost childhood. It catches Saburo so off guard that he has to stifle a shocked laugh. Really? A wet dream, about Saburo of all people. It's insane, an utterly insane notion, and his eyes most certainly must have been playing tricks on him because there's no way-
"Saburo... c'mon... 'm gonna go crazy if you keep teasin' me..."
Jiro’s words come with panted breaths and tensing limbs, and there's really no avoiding reality. Nor is there any avoiding how it makes Saburo's body feel hot, and his pants feel tighter.
"Fuck, want you so bad, m' sorry... m' sorry..."
...Jiro's a heavy sleeper. Even if he wakes up, Saburo will just make a fuss about Jiro's perverseness until Jiro forgets about Saburo's. So it's fine, no will know. With those thoughts to comfort him Saburo stand and tugs down the band of his pajama pants and underwear far enough to free his quickly hardening dick. Then he gives in to his once innocent urge to hold his onii-chan's hand.
It's strange, the feeling of someone else's hand around him is new, but the feeling of Jiro's hand is so very familiar. Not on this part of him, of course, but it's been on just about every other part of him over the course of all their scuffles.
"Was that all just an excuse, Jiro-nii-chan? Were you just looking for a reason to touch me all this time?" Saburo whispers.
Jiro's hand is still bigger than his, so it's a bit awkward to try and hold it around his dick like this. Still, it's worth it. Those callouses are rough against his shaft, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Saburo thrusts into it, and every so often Jiro's hand twitches, loosely squeezing of their own accord. It's the clumsiest jerk-off of Saburo's life, and still the best thing he's ever felt.
"That's it onii-chan, c'mon, make your cute baby brother cum." Please, fuck. He wants this, this and so much more. Wants to paint his brother's face in cum, wants to slot himself between those still-spread legs, wants to fuck him so hard that Ichi-nii hears from wherever the hell he is right now-
His cum ends up on the floor for the most part, in the same spot he had sat in earlier. There, and on Jiro's hand. He should clean the spot on the floor, but... Saburo can get away with leaving Jiro's fingers a mess, right? Jiro will just assume it's his own mess and wash it off himself.
Maybe he'll wipe it off on one of his dirty shirts. Maybe he'll lick it off. Thinking about it is about to get Saburo worked up again, but he's already pushing his luck here, so he ought to just hurry and get out.
Maybe he should try to wake up early more often.