Warning: Contains m/m relationship and incest. Some loverly brotherly love from the Brothers of Destruction. If that's not your cup of hot chocolate, turn back now.
Are You Watching Closely?
He's at the window again. This is something I've gotten used to. Kane's people-watching habit. Observing others while they are completely unaware. It borders on voyeurism.
Hell, who am I kidding? It is voyeurism. Though it has remained in its purest form. He's never done anything. The closest he's come to Peeping Tommery is poking his head behind the shower curtain while I'm busy getting soapy. And the only reason I condone that behavior is because he's the best shower toy known to man. Makes sure I'm squeaky clean before we get dirty again.
Much to my annoyance, he's abandoned me during my showering session to take up his post at the window. It's one of those floor-to-ceiling jobs that are impossible to open. He parts the curtains to peer at the outside world.
If it weren't for our job, I don't think the boy would get out much. He'd buy himself a telescope, station himself at a window, and never leave the house.
A social butterfly, he is not. Then again, given Kane's upbringing, I'm surprised he's not skinning people alive in some backwoods part of the country and baking their remains into meatloaf.
"Whatcha watchin'?" The television is on, but it doesn't hold his interest. So I turn it off.
"Nothing much" is his reply. He doesn't turn away from the window. "There's a restaurant across the street. It's got one of those courtyards with tables so people can eat outside."
I move to stand beside him, parting the curtains a bit more.
Night has fallen. Small table lamps provide light for the diners. Of the five tables in the courtyard, only three are occupied. One is inhabited by a middle-aged man and woman, obviously a couple. The second has a foursome of young females and the last were a group of men who appear to be in their early twenties.
The collection of men draws my attention. Even from my second-floor perch, I can tell they might be my type. Loaded with a good amount of muscle, but not too much by way of brains. The type of guys to screw all night without worrying about their partner's name.
Before Kane… Had I come across one of those boys backstage, I would've had him buck naked and calling me Daddy until the sun came up.
"See anything you like?" Kane asks.
There are days I swear my brother can read my mind.
My arm finds its way around his waist. I can't help myself. I just have to touch him. I need the contact. He's bare-chested and his skin is warm and smooth. He sleeps without a shirt most nights. And he usually has a bit of trouble finding his pants come morning.
Toying with the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms, I tell him, "Those girls. Especially the redhead."
"You lie." I can make out his smirk in the window's reflection. "I know your type."
"Name my type, smartass."
Kane chuckles, "You leave my ass out of this." Not a chance. "The blond crewcut in the grey hoodie." He indicates one of the guys at the all-male table. "You'd put a collar around his neck and make him your bitch."
I step away, just for a moment. So I can turn off the light. "That's what you think." I stand behind him, arms around his waist. "But I'd do something a whole lot better. I'd make him, and all his friends, watch."
"Watch what?"
Now, that is the million dollar question!
I force the curtains open wider. "If those boys were to glance up here, what do you think they would see?" My fingers creep beneath the border of his bottoms.
"Nothing," he says. "You switched off the light, so I don't think they can see anything…" His voice trails off as I grasp him firmly in my hand. Leaning against my chest, he grumbles, "You are an evil, evil man and I don't know why I put up with you."
Hard and hot beneath my fingers, I set about refreshing his memory. Stroking and squeezing. Simply feeling his body react to my manipulations. The quickening of his breath. The flush of his skin. I kiss his shoulder, relishing the salty taste of his skin.
There is a connection between us unlike any I've ever experienced before. It is both beautiful and frightening in its intensity.
Just like Kane.
His pajama bottoms drop to the floor. I want him absolutely naked. The towel that had been around my waist soon joins Kane's pants.
"If those men could see up here," I whisper into his ear. "If they could be up here, they'd beat each other's brains out just to get to you. Just for a chance to touch you this way."
"Only you," he says. His voice is tight, like he's straining not to explode in my hand. "You're the only one crazy enough to want me like this."
If only he knew how many of the supposedly straight-laced Superstars would be willing to bend over and grab hold of their ankles at the mere sight of Kane in the buff… But I'm not about to tell him that. I want him all to myself.
I've been told I have control issues. And I see nothing wrong with that.
He's rocking against me, grinding my hard length along the seam of his ass as he indulges in my slow stroke. And he had the nerve to call me evil! Kane has never been above using my lust for him against me.
I take my hands off of him. His whimper of displeasure is music to my ears. "Lean forward," I instruct. "Press your hands against the glass."
He does as he's told. Good boy.
If this were a perfect world, our bottle of lube would be right beside me, within reach. Unfortunately, the only thing that's perfect is Kane. The container is tucked away in one of our bags. I can't tear myself away from him, even to retrieve it.
Saliva-slick fingers press against his opening. I feel him shudder as I work first one, then two fingers inside him. "You're so sensitive." A third digit soon joins the other two. "You shiver every time I go inside."
"Because you never let me alone." A burst of breath rushes past his lips, fogging the window, as I press deep. Pressing against that sweet spot inside him. Swearing loudly, he groans, "I never get a moment's peace."
"Do you want me to leave you alone?" I know the answer before the question is fully out of my mouth.
He doesn't hesitate to speak his mind. "No. I want you to fuck me."
I challenge anyone to find sweeter words inscribed on anything Hallmark puts out.
The tip of my cock grazes his hole. Another shiver, followed by a moan. I press forward, into his tight heat. Sometimes, I worry I have not prepared him enough or I might be moving too fast. But Kane never complains. He takes everything I have to give and asks for more.
Grasping his hips, I pull him back. The base of my cock nestles against his ass. I don't know how long I'll be able to last with his muscles clench around me like this.
The courtyard and its inhabitants are visible as I peer over his shoulder. "Look at them," I say, referring to the men. "They have no idea what they're missing." I draw back, only to drive in deep. The resulting friction takes my breath away.
God, this boy will be the death of me!
I set the tempo of the slow fuck we've both been dying for. Where I can savor the grip and pull of him along my shaft, the brush of my balls against his firm ass. A chorus of moans, gasps, and whimpers come from this man that has come to mean more to me than all the championship belts in this damn company.
Kane had been only half right. I'm not the only one who wants him; I'm the only one who can have him.
"I'd lead those boys on a leash. Just for you." My eyes lock onto that group, willing them to look up. Wishing they could take part in this one of a kind show. The watchers being watched. "If they were good boys and begged real nice, maybe I'd let them suck you. Give them the taste of the Big Red Fuck Machine."
As if sensing my thoughts, the blond crewcut that Kane has pointed out earlier glanced up. It was just a momentary turn of his head, but it was still noticeable. I wonder if the light from the street and table lamps is enough to give him a glimpse.
Just the possibility of our being seen gives me a rush. I am a showman, after all. An excellent performer. I never fail to please an audience.
The blond's eyes are on our building again. Maybe… Just maybe…
It's almost too much. This thrill of riding the razor's edge. It's dangerous, probably illegal, and definitely immoral. But the thought of stopping never crosses my mind. Not in the middle of this frenzy, this lust to own every part of Kane.
I drive deeper, pounding harder. Nailing that magic spot until Kane's clawing at the glass. "Yeah, you watch me fuck him," I mutter to the boy at the table, as if he were in the room with us. Naked and jacking himself off, his eyes glues to the constant motion of my hips.
Because that is the only satisfaction I would give him. Only I am allowed to be inside Kane. To be the one to set loose his passion and absolute abandon.
Possessive now, I wrap my hand around his cock. "Mine," I growl. And it's the truth. His body, his mind, his soul. All freely given to me.
"Yes," he sighs. "Yours… All yours…" His voice trembles as spasms rock his body. "Coming for you…" His cock pulses in my hand as he releases spurt after spurt of spunk.
Giving in to my passion, I follow close behind him. Shooting my load deep inside his ass. Each gush drawing soft little aahs from my lover. It's sounds like that that make me want to take him again.
Spent, I finally withdraw. I drop to my knees and spread his ass cheeks apart. Seconds tick by before I see it. Those first dribblings of pearly white essence. My mark on Kane. Giving no pause for second-thought, I kiss, and then lick that spot.
"Fuck," moans Kane. "You never let me alone."
I rise to my feet, slightly unsteady. He takes a lot out of me. No pun intended. "Are you complaining?"
He graces me with his sexy, just-fucked smile. The one known to test my patience and endurance. "I'm just saying…" He turns his attention back to the window and the world beyond. "You really think they would've liked to have seen that?"
"Hell, yeah! I just wish I'd brought a video camera." Maybe next time…
"I just got one question." Smirking, he points to the recently-made splatter on the window. "Who's gonna clean that up?"
END