It's always weird, coming to terms with the fact that you're fucking your brother. Not really even incest part, but the part where you realize damn. I was delivered from the same vagina as this motherfucker I'm plowing. That's a weird realization. And it's one that Seth Gecko has on a nearly nightly basis, by now. As his lips drag across the pale skin of his brother's shoulder, and as his brother wraps his arms around his waist and groans with each of those last few thrusts, he gets that nagging feeling in the back of his mind-the one says hey, guess what: this guy had to sit in the delivery room with your mom when she was popping you out. It's like how when you're watching porn and jerking off to some prissy white girl's arm stuck up another prissy white girl's ass. You don't really think about how weird this whole thing is until you're shooting your load into some single-ply tissue paper that this is what gets you going.
Vinegar strokes'll do that to a person.
Richie is talking-if you could even call it talking instead of mumbling, whining, or going full on King's Speech-probably trying to sound sexy with that whole shove it up my ass shit that Seth absolutely can't stand. Sure, it's nice when it's coming from the lady across the hall, but she's got tits and a nice voice. Richie just looks like their mom. Nobody wants to look at their mom when they come, so Seth hides his face in the crook of his brother's neck, eyes squeezing tight as he tries his absolute hardest not to get war flashbacks to when the two of them found his birth tape. Richie lets out some weird, strangled moan that sounds like he's trying to say something. Maybe it's an I love you, which isn't so nice from the girl upstairs, but it's acceptable from Richie. Weird, but acceptable. Kinda like when those really fucking hot-absolutely smoking-one night stands calls you daddy when she comes. Sure, it kinda makes you feel weird, but that doesn't mean you don't secretly get just a little more turned on by it.
Seth doesn't even notice the fact that there's some of his brother's stray cum on his stomach (and his fucking lip? Seriously, Richie, how does that happen?) until he's delivered the money shot right up his ass. Then, it's the birth tape moment. It's the my brother's potential unborn babies are all over the both of us. It's the my potential unborn babies are inside of my brother's asshole. When he pulls out, he almost shudders. But then again, there's something distinctly and unavoidably attractive about seeing Richie's abs heaving like he's just run a mile. He's sweaty enough for it too. Seth blames pheromones, but if he actually said it, Richie would correct him and only males and females excrete pheromones to each other, because it's a natural mating blah blah blah fucking blah.
As he leans back on his calves, and as Richie keeps doing that sweaty breathing thing, he wipes at his lip. Seriously. If Richie was watching he might lick it off, but the guy's too focused on not needing an inhaler that it gives Seth an excuse to wipe it on the sheets. The cleaning lady can deal with it. Seth's never been a big fan of the whole 'swallowing someone else's cum' concept. Or his own, for that matter. He's seen that grody shit-felching? Felching, he thinks it's called. Whatever it's called, it involved licking the cum out of the guy's ass after you've fucked it. That shit? That shit is why America is in the shitter. He is absolutely sure of this.
He's the one to get Richie's glasses for him, even going as far as to put them on for him. Careful, too, not just setting them there. His fingers trace the length of the frame, temples to tips, and then quickly rake through his hair (still wet with pomade, or whatever the fuck Richie puts in his hair every morning), pushing away any strands from his face.
"I'll get a towel." He says, gesturing for his brother to stay right where he is. There's only so much cum you can get on sheets before the maids start refusing to clean it up, and then it's just too goddamn awkward to have to sit there with the manager, explaining that you got so much jizz on the bed sheets that the maid-the woman who does this shit for a living-was too disgusted to clean it up. Better than finding cum socks, if you ask Seth, but beggars are insisting upon being choosers these days. When his tongue idly runs over his lips, he can taste the residual salt. Since Richie is sitting up now (but in that awkward, trying not to let cum drip out of his ass way), he tries not to make a face.
"Thanks, bro." Richie lapses into the colloquialisms quickly, and he either starts breathing like a normal human being or Seth just can't hear it from the tiny bathroom. It's barely big enough for him to take a piss in. There's a damn good reason they did not try shower sex for a second time. The stains won't show up much on the white towels, and besides, they're going to get taken by tomorrow. Maybe it'll go unnoticed.
