A/N: I feel like I've risen from the dead. And probably look like it too.

Greg wasn't nearly as terrified as he felt he should have been. As soon as Rodrick closed the door, he took a deep, calming breathe and waited for the nausea to pass before realizing that it was as simple as that. It was over; he was okay.

He sat up, examining the embarrassing word written across his stomach in detail. Just seconds ago Rodrick had been rubbing his disgusting hard on against this skin, and now these black capital letters were all he represented. That's right, he wasn't a brother anymore. He was a slave. He would forever bend to Rodrick's rules and whims. That was the way it had always been.

Sighing, Greg laid back on his bed and shut his eyes, fingers tracing the words along his stomach obsessively. If only he had known this would happen. Then he would've never wished and dreamed so openly that all he wanted was to spend more time with Rodrick.

Even though it was coming true...

Rodrick came out of his room at exactly six thirty and pointed a finger at Greg as he descended the stairs. "Let's go," he said, moving steadily into the living room where Greg had managed to escape reality for at least a little while. His eyes landed on the older brother and his heart thumped loudly, the apprehension building in his chest.

Greg knew he couldn't protest – no matter how much he was really dreading being alone in Rodrick's company. He'd already been signed up for this night and he understood it was important they put on a show for their mother. So Greg stood up and followed Rodrick to the front door, making sure to avoid looking at him.

"Where are you two going?"

Their mother's voice startled Greg who had been balancing on one foot as he attempted to put a shoe on the other. He teetered threateningly before Rodrick grabbed him by the elbow and steadied him.

"Are you serious? The movie, remember?" Rodrick replied, removing his hand and looking just a little more pissed off than he had a moment ago. Dark brows were pulled together and Greg had to remember to look away.

"Oh – right. Well, at this time?" She looked at her watch, concern written all over her face. Supper-time.

"Jesus woman, what is it? Can we go to a movie or not?"

She sighed, looking at her two sons with shrewd eyes. When they stopped on Greg, he could feel his resolve weakening. He had to act like he wanted to hang out with Rodrick, or else.

"Please can we go?" Greg asked, tentatively sliding his foot into his other shoe as he tried to face his mother's questioning looks.

There was a moment of silence. "What movie?" she snapped finally. "And when is it done?"

"Mountain Man, we'll be back at 9, latest," Rodrick said easily. Greg couldn't help but get excited at these words. He'd feigned interest in seeing a movie with his brother but this one in particular he had wanted to see. He must've looked as hopeful as he felt because their mother finally sighed and unfolded her arms.

"I suppose you can go then," she began. Then she turned and reached for her purse on the hook and pulled out her wallet. She handed Greg a twenty dollar bill. "Make sure you eat something since you'll be missing supper," she advised.

Greg could not believe his luck. He stared at the crisp green note with incredulous eyes. His night was getting better and better by the second!

"What do you want?"

Greg was startled when Rodrick spoke, used to the silence and having spent the majority of the drive focused on not looking at Rodrick so much. He glanced at the menu indicating his choices of popcorn, pop and candy. Twenty dollars didn't seem like it was going to get him very far with these prices and on top of that, none of them seemed like adequate meal replacements.

"Let's get some popcorn and share," Rodrick suggested, holding his hand out palm up. "And a drink too."

Greg looked at the open palm and crossed his arms in line. "No way, this is my money."

The dark eyes of his older brother narrowed, and Rodrick leaned over a little. "That's our money, dweeb, so cough it up!" he said through gritted teeth, emphasizing his intimidation. Greg was frozen to the spot - unsure of whether to give it up or remain stubborn - until a hand reached out trying to dip into his back pocket.

It was electric. All at once, Greg's entire body was on fire. "Don't touch me!" Instinctively he recoiled from Rodrick just as fast as if he really had been burnt, breathing sharply to recover from the sudden heat crawling along his body.

"Woah, calm down," Rodrick said, stepping back. "You're embarrassing me."

Greg didn't think it was possible for his face to get any hotter, but it did as he looked curiously around them in line and realized several people were looking their way. He definitely didn't mean to react like that but – just what was this cursed excitement crawling through him at Rodrick's touch? It was scary, if Greg were to admit it.

But he didn't. He ducked his head low and waited until they were at the front of the concession line. In the end, he handed the money over to Rodrick when it was time to pay, not feeling as ashamed about giving up as he was about making such a scene and flinching from his brother.

The silence started once more and Greg tried concentrating on anything and everything except Rodrick beside him. Had his shoes always been that dirty? And just how long had this unsightly black dirt been stuck under his finger nails?

Then suddenly, they were both seated in the theatre and the lights were dimming.

Panic hit Greg hard, and a strange apprehension squeezed his stomach - like déjà vu multiplied a thousand times. He had just been to a movie with Holly and they had kissed. Rodrick wasn't thinking about doing the same thing, right?

Greg's heart began thumping hard and fast. He was very aware of his brother sitting beside him in the darkness and couldn't even concentrate despite the flashing pictures and high quality surround sound of the movie now playing to distract him. It was awful. Awful that Greg was even thinking about Rodrick kissing him. He definitely had to stop thinking about Rodrick so much. But the goose-bumps on his arm as Rodrick reached over for some popcorn out of his lap told him that wasn't happening any time soon.

This was killing him.

"You sure didn't talk much," Rodrick commented on the drive home, breaking the silence that had enveloped them since Greg's little scene in the concession line.

"Well, we were watching a movie..." Greg said, not able to help feeling incredibly lame. That wasn't true at all. He barely watched the movie. In fact, he spent most of the time trying not to flinch every single time his elbow accidentally knocked Rodrick's.

"I see." Rodrick turned a corner heading along the road that brought them home. How familiar. It had been just a few weeks ago Greg had been in the very same seat – "So you hate me now?"

"No!" Greg said immediately. He wasn't sure why he responded like that without thinking first, but of course he didn't hate Rodrick. Not even – not even after everything...

As the van rolled to a stop on the street outside their house, Greg watched Rodrick smirk in the darkness. He had given up trying to control the wild beating of his heart two hours ago, but it was making his head spin and with Rodrick turning and looking at him so maliciously – well it was very overwhelming.

"Come here," Rodrick said after spending a moment considering his brother in the passenger seat – eyes appraising his condition.

"Uh – um, well we should get back. Its past nine so – "

Greg began to unbuckle his seat belt with trembling hands, unable to concentrate on any given task knowing Rodrick was even looking at him. It was absolutely pathetic. Finally the buckle unsnapped and the same trembling fingers reached for the door handle.

A hand shot out, coiling around exactly the same arm that had been bruised weeks ago. Greg squeaked in surprise, but no pressure was exerted this time. Rodrick simply pulled his brother closer and then leaned in. Greg was frozen, concentrated on the lips steadily growing closer to his. The beating of his heart was so loud now; the pounding in his ear drums becoming unbearable.

"Don't fight me," Rodrick warned.

Fight? Greg had absolutely no instinct to fight. Even if he tried he would definitely lose – besides, more concerning than his lack of fight was an eagerness building in him. His stomach somersaulted as the lips were pressed to his, and a sickening need he'd only had a taste of before was back and stronger than ever.

"Open up," Rodrick muttered against his lips, running his tongue along Greg's stubborn seal. So Greg obeyed, separating them without much say in the matter. "Good boy." The tongue slipped through his lips, licking and swirling - the temperature was like liquid fire and it ran hot and slick down his throat to collect further south. It was too hot as the tongue filled his small mouth, forcing Greg's to rub back; teasing and uncertain. The hand on his arm moved, reaching around Greg's back and pulling their bodies closer; sharing the heat.

Greg couldn't believe he was letting this happen. Rodrick already had his five minutes! This was against the rules, and Rodrick was a stinking cheater! He struggled, as he should have been doing all along, but the weak fight only seemed to stir Rodrick up even more. The brother removed his tongue, leaving Greg gasping and panting. Then it swirled down his neck - licking like a dog before chewing like one too.

The rows of teeth rolling his flesh together left Greg a trembling mess. How did it feel so good? Why was it making him ache for more?

"Ngh, fuck, the lights turned on..."

When the biting stopped, Greg opened bleary eyes he hadn't known he'd closed. Rodrick's face was really hard to make out in the darkness, but there was no mistaking that he looked pissed. About what? Greg's eyes followed the line of vision of his brother and landed on the now brightly lit living room window.

Their mother was waiting for them.

Rodrick sighed, taking one last look at Greg. Then his eyes glinted and he turned away, pulling the keys from the ignition before opening his door. Greg watched the retreating back of his brother, then as if in a trance, tucked his tented hard on into the waistband of his jeans and hopped out of the van too. He waddle-walked inside the house, up the stairs – ignoring his mother as she asked how the movie was – and turned left at the landing towards his bedroom before locking his door.

What. Was. That.

Greg flopped himself miserably onto his bed, wincing at the tightness of his waistband as he landed. He hurriedly unbuckled his pants, helpless under this dizzying spell even without Rodrick there.

He stared down at his underwear – a spot already thoroughly soaked with precum. It was hot to the touch as he reached out a hand and collected some onto his fingers. Greg inspected the fluid before deciding he really didn't give a shit what he was doing, he needed this. It hurt too much if he didn't.

The underwear and jeans were kicked to collect at his ankles and then Greg lifted his shirt up over his nipples, wanting and needing a good look at himself and not really interested in getting one of his favorite shirts dirty. But as it lifted, those black letters re-appeared. Greg stared at the word having forgotten it was there in the first place.

SLAVE.

"Because you are my fucking slutty slave."

The voice – so low and angry that for a split moment Greg thought it really was Rodrick - echoed out of somewhere deep in Greg's conscience. A horrifying throb of pleasure overcame him, and he watched as his member twitched – dripping precum onto the sharpie'd letter A.

Crap. That wasn't good. Greg should not be thinking about his brother. Not at a time like this.

Even if it was Rodrick who made him like this... even if he could still feel the teeth working at his neck. Grazing, biting. "Mmmgh." This time Greg couldn't fight it. His hand wrapped around his stiff length and it didn't matter that he didn't know what he was doing; instinct was taking over. He pumped and stroked like his life depended on it, his other hand palming his neck and tracing where he had been bitten just moments ago.

This wasn't healthy. Greg knew it. But he couldn't do anything. The shame, and the pleasure, it was all too much. And it was all Rodrick's fault, he thought, just as he felt an all too pleasurable pressure building. All. His. Fault.

Greg rolled over just in time to muffle his cries against his pillow. He felt the climax take over him, and could only grit his teeth as string after string of milky cum soiled his sheets.

This was going to be a long week.

A/N: Hello once again my dear readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really struggled to get the motivation to write this, as all my energies are being poured into my original stories on Fiction Press. But I love you all so much.

PLEASE REVIEW. REVIEW NOOOW. Trust me, that was the only reason I started this chapter. In fact, at one point I wanted to give up but got four reviews in a row on the same night and I was like, "FINE!" and went back to writing. So they work!

Lots of love,

Calico

PS – How are you all liking Rodrick? And Greg? TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT! REVIIEWWW!