Masaki was at it again. Flirting. And Hiroto couldn't do anything about it.
It was one of their rare nights out. They just finished up a job with Takeru, who had decided that they deserved a night out. Masaki had no objections and Hiroto had decided to stick with them rather than return to their hotel room by himself. Takeru wanted to eat so they went to grab a bite of food at a nearby restaurant. The food was pretty good and the company even better.
He sat next to Masaki in the booth. He was close enough to his brother to have their thighs press together, their shoulders brush with every move as they ate.
Usually he sat next to Takeru, wanting to be close to his oldest brother but Takeru had been content claiming a side for himself and Hiroto took the opportunity to sit next to Masaki. When they finished eating, Takeru suggested they go to some club down the street, have some fun that didn't involve fighting.
Takeru had left almost immediately upon entering the club, telling them not to get in any trouble and that he'd see them sometime late tomorrow afternoon.
He'd gotten a room by himself and intended to use it.
Masaki and Hiroto were sharing a separate room. He'd wanted to tell Masaki not to bring anyone back, like hell he wanted to hear or see that, but he didn't get the chance.
Masaki had already taken off in the opposite direction of Takeru while Hiroto had been trying to adjust to the pounding music and flashing lights of the club.
Hiroto headed to the bar, he might as well try to enjoy himself a little. After getting a drink, he moved through the crowd to stand against the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of either of the other two.
When he did, Hiroto regretted looking at all.
Masaki was dancing.
With some girl latched onto him.
Masaki wasn't exactly the best of dancers, none of them were, but he knew what he was doing. Knew how to move his hips, where to place his hands, how to move to the rhythm of the music and the partner he was with. It was hot.
Hiroto watched with hungry eyes as Masaki spun the girl around, pulling her back against him. Her back to his chest, her ass on his crotch, her head thrown back on his shoulder as they rocked back and forth into each other to the beat of the music.
Masaki was about to kiss the neck of the pretty girl who had clung to him since he stepped foot on the dance floor when he felt it.
The hair on the back of his neck rose, goosebumps breaking out all down his arms even in the heat of the club and the body pressed tight against his.
Someone was watching him.
He didn't know who it was, glancing up through his bangs at the bodies crowded near him revealed nothing.
So he decided that if he was gonna be watched, he might as well put on a show.
Masaki kissed down the girl's neck, grinding down into her as she arched up into him. He slid one hand down from waist to thigh, squeezing it hard, feeling more than hearing her moan into his neck. He spun the girl around, pulling her back into him, the hand on her thigh sliding up around her waist. His lips met hers in a clash of heat.
The staring increased in its intensity.
Whoever it was, they were furious.
He pulled back from the girl's lips, kissing and biting down a pale throat, sucking a harsh red mark on the crook between her neck and shoulder before biting down.
The girl's hand found his, pulling it up to her mouth, sucking on his fingers as he pulled away to watch. She bit gently on the tip of his finger, acting coy, before pushing his hand down.
Masaki was drawn into another kiss, momentarily distracted as the girl brought his hand up under her skirt. The tip of his finger sunk into her right before she was ripped away from him.
He was dazed briefly, eyes opening back up, when did he close them?
He tried to adjust to the club lights again but it just wasted time he didn't have, as the hand tight around his wrist dragged him away. Instinct kicked in and seconds away from breaking the arm of the person dragging him away, he recognized who it was. The familiarity of the hand holding his wrist and the leather jacket in front of him gave him just enough pause for his brain to catch up and Masaki realized that it was his brother dragging him away.
"Oi what the fuck was that, huh? What are you doing? Where are you dragging me off to? Oi don't ignore me. Oi!"
Hiroto said nothing, didn't even glance back at him, just kept marching furiously out of the club.
Once outside Masaki was dragged down the street. He could tell that there was something wrong, his little brother was furious, something had to have happened.
Masaki grew serious. All thoughts of the club fading away as worry for his brothers came crashing to the front.
"Oi what the fuck! Talk to me, I can see you're pissed, what happened huh? Did somebody hurt you? Is Takeru ok?"
That finally got him a response.
Hiroto turned to look at him, releasing his grip on his arm, "just follow me, ok?"
Now Masaki was really worried. Hiroto might have let him go but his eyes were red with fury and his words were cold.
Masaki nodded, silently, and followed his brother back to their hotel room.
Hiroto was quick to unlock their hotel room, key card jamming into the lock without hesitation, he walked into their room first, listening as Masaki followed him.
As soon as the door closed, Hiroto turned and crowded into his brother's space, walking him back until he hit the door, unable to go any further.
"Hiroto what's gotten into you?"
Confusion and concern clouded his brother's eyes and he knew it was the only reason Masaki had allowed himself to be backed into a corner.
He slammed one hand against the door near his brother's head, the other next to his waist, boxing him in.
Masaki wouldn't get to run away this time.
Hiroto was done with them running circles around each other.
They've been doing it for years and now his patience has finally run out completely, overtaking his hesitation and concern for pushing his brother too far.
They were doing this, right here, right now. He wouldn't allow Masaki to hide anymore.
He was tired of waiting and even if Masaki denied everything, Hiroto knows he'd be lying.
"Masaki," he whispers, a plea and a warning.
He slides closer to his brother, pressing against him, one of his legs sliding between Masaki's.
His brother knows what's coming, he can see it in Hiroto's eyes, feel it as they press together.
Hiroto slides even closer, nose bumping gently against Masaki's.
"Hiroto," his brother whispers, voice sounding hoarse and almost as if he's pleading with him, "we can't do this. We can't. What would people think? What would Aniki think? And our parents?"
His voice breaks slightly on the last word, turning away from Hiroto, eyes clenched tightly closed.
For all his fighting against this, Masaki's hands have found his body, one grasping his hip tight enough to bruise while the other slides to hold his neck.
"I don't care what anyone else thinks. The only thing that matters is how we feel. Besides we're not brother's, not by blood. I want you, Masaki. I love you."
"Hiroto," there are tears in his love's eyes when he turns back to him, "fuck, Hiroto. You know how I feel. But I can't lose you, can't lose Aniki." He's whispering, the words falling out as he begs Hiroto not to cross this line.
"You won't lose me, please let us try. Give me a chance and if — if we decide we're better as friends, as brothers, then that's fine. You will never lose me because I won't let you leave me. As for Aniki, he doesn't have to know, no one does, not yet, not until we're both ready to tell someone, or not ever. This stays between us as everything else does."
"Promise? Promise me you'll never leave me, no matter what happens between us?"
"I promise," he barely gets the words out before Masaki is crashing against him, lips enveloping his passionately.
Hiroto can barely believe it, they've been dancing around each other for so long but he doesn't hesitate, doesn't let it go to waste, matching Masaki's movements perfectly. They crash together, a battle of teeth and lips and tongue, fighting for dominance. He presses tighter against his love, pushing him back into the door behind him.
Hiroto's hands slide across his brother's body relentlessly, they're finally giving in to each other for the first time. Hiroto's not wasting a single second of the precious time they have tonight without anyone to disturb them. He gets a hand down between their chests feeling the plains of Masaki's abs as his brother moans into his mouth. He can't get enough, he tastes so good, feels so warm, so wonderful against him. Hiroto pulls away from Masaki's lips moving to attack the beautiful expanse of his neck.
He takes his time kissing down from his jaw to the side of his neck, sucks at soft skin under his ear before kissing down, down, down to bite harshly at the crook of his neck. He can feel his brother's chest vibrate against him as he tries to muffle all the sounds fighting to escape him all the while.
Hiroto pushes harder into Masaki, hand slipping down to grasp a strong thigh, pulling it up to his waist to grind closer into his brother's heat. The groan that tears from Masaki as they rock together makes a sharp burst of arousal shoot through him, blood heading south. Hiroto's mouth slides back up from the other side of his neck, tugging Masaki's hand out of the way to muffle those sweet sounds with his lips. Masaki jerks hard into him, now free hand seeking out his skin as he bites down on Hiroto's bottom lip.
Fuck. He's driving me crazy.
Hiroto can't take much more of this, he's getting close from nothing but kissing and it's not enough, not enough, not enough. He gets his other hand down to grasp Masaki's other thigh, pulling him right off the ground. Masaki is heavy, all compact muscle built from hours and hours of practice and well maintained year after year, Hiroto's afraid he's going to drop him so he picks up the pace, moving quicker than he had planned and practically throwing his brother onto their hotel bed.
His brother lands with a startled look on his face, bouncing a few times but in seconds he's recovered, a dark hungry look overtaking him as he stares at Hiroto. "Come here."
Hiroto couldn't stop the sudden moan that burst out of him even if he tried. He can hardly believe the sound came from him to begin with but he knows it did. He'd be embarrassed if that — a half growled out, order — had come from anyone else but it was Masaki, Masaki his brother whose hair was messy and dishevileved from the way his fingers ran through and gripped it, whose pupils were blown wide, whose voice had gone slightly hoarse all from lust, from what they had been doing, from Hiroto. It was unbelievably hot.
Hiroto launches himself at Masaki, laughing quietly at the startled little oof his brother let out as their bodies collide. Masaki chuckled gently with him, a smile breaking across his face and his features lit up. Hiroto snuggled into his brother's chest, suddenly feeling soft as he let Masaki rearrange their bodies so they fit seamlessly together.
From the position he found himself in, nestled safely in the v of Masaki's legs, thighs pressed on either side of Hiroto's hips, his head resting comfortably on his chest, Hiroto found it all too easy to stretch a little ways up and reconnect their lips. The edge had been taken off briefly leaving space for soft, warm kisses that lacked the heated rush from before.
But Hiroto hadn't forgotten what started all this, oh no.
He'd probably never be able to get the image of that girl all over his lover out of his head.
It was a nasty sight, indeed. It's a good thing Hiroto knew just what to do to — ease the heartache. He slowly took Masaki's hands in his, raising them up until they were safely planted on the mattress above his brother's head and securing them in the tight grip of one of his hands, he set to work.
Masaki was confused for a little but understanding flashed through those brilliant eyes seconds before the haze of lust overtook them again. Hiroto didn't pay his muttered protests any mind, lips trailing down to that delicious neck again, if Masaki truly didn't want this, his brother was more than strong enough to force him off.
As he figured, his lover's token protests quickly faded only to be replaced with whimpers and moans as Hiroto sucked mark after mark into once unblemished skin.
He would make sure everyone knew Masaki was taken, even if it was the last thing he did.
He marked up both sides of his neck before gradually making his way down Masaki's chest and then even further to those delectable thighs. Masaki was a wreak before he was even half way done, begging for Hiroto to stop, to touch him, to fuck him, anything.
He would. Eventually. But first, Masaki had to learn his lesson.
By the end of the night or actually the next morning, Masaki knew he definitely wouldn't be doing that ever again.
But it wasn't his fault that women liked him. It really wasn't.
(He did it again. He had to keep his love on his toes. And he rather enjoyed the punishment.)
