Author's Note: Yay, shitty Bro/Dave fic flyin' in yo' face. I'm only posting this piece of crap here so that my moirail can read it. Enjoy... I guess? I don't own Homestuck. Andrew Hussie does, that glorious bastard.
Warnings, I guess: Incest. Ayup. I'm one of those people, if my Hetalia fics weren't any indication.
It was getting to be impossible to ignore.
He could feel it, feel the fire and heat growing within him, feel and hear the metronome pounding in his head, marking the passage of time.
It was infuriating.
The flame was in his fingertips, curling up and around his organs as though teasing them, threatening to burn him from the inside out, the throbbing in his head acting as a timer counting down to where the fire took him entirely.
He had to do something to be rid of it, to distract himself from the smothering presence of passing time, to try and delay the burning.
He went back.
The pulsing got louder, faster, as he went back further and further. He closed his eyes, feeling the beat throbbing behind his eyelids, the heat within him getting worse.
He was back and things were different and yet the same - he remembered it all so clearly, but the feel of it all was something else entirely.
His brother was surprised when their lips met, eyes widening behind dark shades, giving no reaction, no sign of even realizing what was happening, too shocked to do anything but let it occur.
The fire and the metronome were incessant, he needed to be rid of them, needed to stifle and silence them, and though he knew this was the wrong person, this wasn't what he should be doing if he wanted it to stop, he went on anyway, the constant pulsing within him providing a rhythm for his actions.
It became apparent all too soon that his brother was enduring the same problem.
When he expected to feel the heat die down at least a little bit, body waiting for the slightest hint of chill to abbreviate the burning, he was met with more fire, perhaps even more powerful than his own, the flames meeting and melting and becoming one, growing and threatening to turn them both to ash.
The fire no longer seemed like a threat.
His brother's hands were rough, calloused, moving back and forth along his skin as though he were a record, the metronome would speed up, hot friction only fed the flames, and they both basked in them.
Their lips met, all heat and dryness begging for relief, a respite from the aching desire of it all, neither of which they ever found.
They didn't mind.
His brother whispered softly to him, breath nothing more than heat and oxygen, but even so, he was sure the metronome skipped a beat.
Their actions were graceful, purposeful, destructive - like the fires that consumed them, so too did they meet, touch, seem to become one.
And the pulsing was still relentless.
They fought, he remembered, they had fought like this before, though this time was vastly different. They would fight, and he would always lose, and in desperation, he would go back, go back to see if he could win.
Just like the fights they had had before, he lost. He always lost.
He went back again and again, and tried and tried to win, the fire within him growing each time, threatening to overtake the other, and then it would briefly die down - loss - before flaring back up again.
He realized that he wanted to lose the fight every time.
The metronome coordinated their movements.
Together, they moved in time to the pulsing within them, and whenever they were close enough, chest to chest, holding tight, fire curling and growing all around them, he was sure their heartbeats were in tune as well.
He was selfish.
Every move his brother made, anything that caused the heat to suddenly spike, the flames to flare up, a moan to escape him, he would go back, go back just to relive it again, take as much pleasure from it as he could.
Each time he went back, though he wasn't sure, he thought he caught the slightest hint of awareness on his brother's face. This never stopped him from continuing.
Every second was cherished by him.
Being aware of the passage of time, he did his best to use every second to his fullest, his brother seeming to do the same. They both knew that time was short, precious.
And then the metronome would quicken, the throbbing becoming stronger, the heat seeming to grow hotter, surrounding them both and tinging their bodies with ash and dark burns, and to them both it seemed like time had stopped.
The heat didn't leave.
They knew it would never leave.
Neither of them cared.
Bodies tangled together, throbbing and shuddering, damp and yet still hot.
Holding each other close, the flames met and grew and danced to the beat within them both.
Time was on their side.
Author's Note: Haha, shitty ending is so shitty. I got this idea while walking the dog, and I obviously couldn't write it down right then, then when I got home I had more chores to do, so by the time I sat down to write it some of the feel of it all was lost, which pisses me off. Oh, well. Review, I guess? I don't think anyone comes to for Homestuck fics. W/e.