A/N: Woah, what a response from you guys! PERVERTS! ALL OF YOU! Hahahahaaaa. I'm not alone!
But seriously thank you for reviewing~! I LOVE YOU.
After that, Greg fell into an uncomfortable and uneasy sleep. He tossed and turned as visions of that villainous smile danced under his eyelids - and when he woke there was still no relief. His brain was practically filled to the brim with Rodrick. On top of this, like ominous background music, unanswerable questions continued to be voiced on repeat.
Firstly, why was Rodrick doing this to him? Last time Greg checked, they were brothers. He wasn't sure, but it seemed like it was very, verywrong. And even more pressing than the why's of Rodrick's actions were his own. Why was he letting this happen? Why wasn't he telling anyone? It was obvious that he didn't want to tattle, but surely this kind of situation needed to be addressed before it spun any more out of control.
Why, why, fucking why. These thoughts haunted Greg all through breakfast. Even worse because Rodrick had taken a seat across from him and just knowing those dark eyes were looking his way…
Greg squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. This wasn't happening. He was not imagining those hands on him; raking up and down his stomach…
"Greg!" The voice finally snapped Greg out of his reverie. Looking up, his father was staring at him curiously over the brim of his newspaper. "Are you feeling okay?"
Okay? Greg was far from okay – and it would be so easy to open his mouth and confess just that, right there in front of the whole family. Rodrick included. But as if sensing this, the older brother cleared his throat loudly, catching Greg's attention and forcing Greg to look at him for the first time since the previous night.
He jolted uncontrollably in his seat. That dangerous look was making him excited and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop these sensations taking over.
"I'm fine."
"Fine?" their father repeated, eyebrows rising as he finally set his newspaper down. "You have toothpaste on your chin and your hair is worse than Rodrick's."
"Hey!" Rodrick protested, but then self-consciously patted his dark locks as if suddenly unsure.
"Maybe he's just a little tired," their mother suggested brightly, settling herself in across from Manny and cutting up his toast into small, bite size portions. "Trust me honey, you've had those days too."
"Yes but I – I've never looked like that," he protested, waving a hand in Greg's direction and gesturing at his son's appearance. Greg probably did look like a mess. He'd only just realized he had been giving his family dumb, open mouthed looks this whole time. He quickly snapped his jaw shut.
"He's your son, where do you think he gets it from?"
Their father looked adamantly aghast at these words, but he knew better than to argue with his wife. "Well this is definitely the last time I will ever express concern for our children again," he grumbled good-naturedly, pulling his newspaper towards himself and thumbing the pages slowly.
Greg hated being talked about like he wasn't there, but was kind of glad that he didn't really need to respond any more. Instead, he rubbed his chin clean of toothpaste with the sleeve of his shirt and prayed it would all be over.
Forget tattling. Greg was alone in this.
To top off his horrible morning, Holly approached Greg immediately after first period and asked to talk to him. The usual sense of ease and comfort at her appearance was lost on Greg this time. Staring at her now – smiling and golden blonde just as she'd always been – he really couldn't stand the sight of her. The guilt gnawed his insides because deep down he knew she had done nothing to deserve this treatment and yet he still wanted to avoid her.
However, he couldn't blatantly refuse the one thing he owed to her; an explanation. So they marched off to the art room and closed the door.
"I'm sorry," she said first. "I didn't mean to tell everyone we were dating. It's just, I got over-anxious and, well I really would like to date you Greg. That is, unless you hate me now?"
Greg hadn't been expecting this. He could barely move, frozen in shock at Holly's boldness. Sadly, this would have probably been the happiest day of Greg's life if Rodrick hadn't completely ruined everything.
"Don't be sorry," he said finally, taking a step forwards and putting a hand on her shoulder. He suddenly wanted that terrified and desperate look of hers to go away - maybe because it reminded Greg of himself. "Of course I don't hate you. I'm the one who should be sorry. I avoided you, remember?" Holly smiled, but looked confused at the gentle tone of Greg's voice. "I guess I was scared, because for a long time I liked you but – I'm sorry Holly I can't date you. I just don't feel that way about you."
Her mouth fell open a little bit. "B-but why?"
Greg didn't have to think about it. The reason was Rodrick of course. The reason was that fucking psycho, wild-haired, brother of his who had been molesting him as of late.
His Master.
Ugh, what was that? Greg suddenly ached for Rodrick in ways he couldn't describe and it was terrifying.
"I think I'm gay." The words came from someplace scared and lonely.
Holly had been shocked at first, her eyes widening. Then she shook her head as if she refused to believe Greg . But after looking deeply into his eyes, wondering if he was serious, she came to accept that he definitely wasn't lying.
"Wow. Well, I mean – okay."
"It's sick I know," Greg said, hanging his head in the first verbal admission his shame. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but it won't go away!" This taste of Rodrick, it burned hot in his stomach.
He felt like crying – snapping – breaking right down into pieces and being just as small as Rodrick made him feel. But he somehow held himself together, facing the girl with panic he didn't know he had until it was flowing out of him. What was he going to do? His brother was touching him, kissing him, forcing him down and he was beginning to like it!
"Greg," Holly began sympathetically. "Don't – don't blame yourself. This isn't something you can control. It's just who you are. I'll be here for you okay? I'm your friend."
A friend. Greg felt one of those wasn't going to be useful right now.
Yet, to celebrate the recent re-kindling of their friendship, at lunch time Rowley suggested that they hang out at Greg's house for the afternoon. At first, Greg had politely declined, but his protests fell on deaf ears as his friends eagerly planned out an evening of watching Avatar and eating his mother's famous mini pizza bagels – which were good, but definitely no comfort for this throbbing, aching need building behind the black, sharpie'd "SLAVE".
oOoOoOo
Rodrick wasn't really concentrating on the music. Usually he would let his artistic rhythm flow free – yet right now all he had the mental strength for were basic drum rhythms; left tap, right tap, kick, kick, snare. The rest of his thoughts were on Greg. Five minutes of sick freedom was just around the corner and Rodrick was excited. His skin itched and crawled as he thought of what he would do, how he would take advantage of his brother this time.
He really felt like touching him – stroking him, biting him and making that boy all wet. Rodrick wouldn't mind if his brother fucking leaked all over him. A panting, hot -
"Rodrick!"
The teen hadn't realized the music had stopped. "Fuck - let's take it from the top."
Concentrate this time. Left, left, right, left, left, kick. Nng, it was just too hard to concentrate with his fantasies coming true all around him. It wasn't long before his eyes trailed out of the window of the garage and towards the front of the house where his dorky brother was expected any minute.
Until three dorky kids appeared down the street, walking up to the house giggling and chatting.
Greg, Baby Hippo and – her.
"Dude, anyone in there? What the hell is the matter with you?" Eddie, the lead singer asked. Rodrick looked around to see all familiar faces of his friends looking at him half concerned and half pissed.
"Are you okay?" Mickey asked. "You don't look so good."
Rodrick wasn't good, even on a damn well good day. But in fact, at that moment a jealous, irrational rage was swelling inside him. His brother was with that girl and they were hanging out right now. On his territory. In his house. Miserable bitch, just what the hell was she pulling? Did they still hang out? Well of course they did. They were friends. If a kiss didn't ruin their friendship then that had to mean something.
A something that Rodrick didn't want to fathom at that moment. Greg was his – and was marked as such too. Anyone could notice the bruise-like hickies literring his younger brother's neck. If they paid attention, that is. And if they were to lift up his shirt only an inch it would reveal those letters Rodrick had sketched into him. His, and his alone.
"I'm fine," Rodrick said. "Let's wrap this up."
By the time Rodrick had booted all his friends out of the garage, it was past seven and he was feeling like he was going to explode. He didn't hesitate, strolling into the living room at the first opportunity and placed his weight on the back of the sofa. "Whatch'a kids doing?" he sneered, breathing down Greg's neck.
"Rodrick," Baby Hippo said in warning, a little too late in any case but all three were turning around and looking at him fearfully.
"Uh, we're watching Avatar," Greg answered.
That was it. Rodrick's self control literally boiled over and melted the remaining sanity. "Excuse me, but I need to speak to him alone." Rodrick shot out his hand and it circled Greg's weak, tiny wrist. It was so easy to drag him away – requiring almost no effort at all. "For five minutes," he finished, adding the emphasis as the two friends began to protest.
"Don't worry I'll be right back," the younger Heffley assured.
Rodrick led him up the stairs, turned at the bathroom and threw his brother in all within what felt like seconds. Then he closed the door, locking it to ensure the household was kept out.
Stepping forward, Greg released a terrified cry - but it was short lived as Rodrick covered his brother's mouth with a forceful hand and looked into those wide, familiar eyes. "Ssh," Rodrick said. "Or do you want someone to interrupt us?" His free hand manoeuvred his brother against the sink, and then Rodrick proceeded to bend him over it.
"Mmff mmmfrrr!" Whatever words Greg tried to say came out muffled and panicked. Their eyes met in the mirror and Rodrick's stomach tightened against the wave of pleasure those pleading eyes stirred within him. He didn't want anyone touching his brother.
"What are you doing with Holly, Greg? I thought you were a loyal slave, huh?"
The boy's head shook back and forth despite the pain it probably took to do this. Rodrick was squeezing Greg's jaw completely shut, not willing the words "no" and "stop" to be said aloud. It was his five minutes and he'd spend them how he wanted, and in fact, he didn't really care if he exceeded that allotted time and broke Greg's trust a million times over while doing it. He had to punish Greg; teach him a lesson; ensure that Holly would never appear in his life again.
And what really bothered him was the lack of fight. Sure, Greg looked frightened, but didn't he always? Rodrick was using absolutely no force at all to keep Greg bent over – he hadn't even clasped the boy's hands behind his back or restrained him at all. This wishy washy consent set flame to Rodrick's sick wishes – his want-but-can't-have's.
oOoOoOo
As Rodrick slid his hand under Greg's shirt and stroked his lower stomach – fingers tracing the SLAVE it seemed - the young boy surely thought he would rather die. That's right, he'd rather cease existing than let his brother find out he was completely turned on. It wasn't his fault his body was reacting this way but Greg felt helpless, and weak, and frightened about this conditioned response. Rodrick had said only kissing just yesterday! Yet, after that he had also called Greg stupid for expecting such and later on kissed him again.
The hand unbuttoned Greg's pants and finally he squirmed, but only slightly. Rodrick's hand squeezed his jaw harder and he stopped, wincing in pain and shutting both eyes tight, trying to think of anything and everything but the events in this bathroom.
His escape from reality didn't last long. Greg could feel the slight breeze as his pants were whisked down a moment later and it was nauseating. It was making him physically ill. He couldn't – he couldn't breathe!
"Be very still and quiet, and maybe you can enjoy this."
The hand released just as Greg was sure a black haze had started to overtake his vision. He coughed, choked, gasped for breathe as the very same hand trailed his body; scraping his chest, sides, back then grazing his tailbone! The hand was perversely touching everywhere and Greg hoped that Rodrick wouldn't -
Too late. The hand trailed to his front - teasing and stroking Greg's stiff hard-on through his underwear. Greg couldn't help whimpering at this contact. He shuddered, but Rodrick kept him still with a firm hand, digging his waist into the edge of the sink. "You're really wet. Do you like what your brother is doing to you?"
"Stop it – " Greg choked, but it was probably the last thing he wanted Rodrick to do. The hand teased him, causing his legs to tremble and forcing sounds out of Greg's mouth that he wasn't used to.
"Is this making you hot, Greg?"
Yes – oh god it was so embarrassing but yes! It was feeling really good – a thousand times better than what Greg had practiced last night. "Nnn."
"Shit, you're a bad slave Greg. You know that?" Soft lips pressed against Greg's ear. "If you bring Holly here again I will fucking strip you down in front of her and that fat friend of yours and rub you just – like – this."
Each word was emphasized with a squeeze of Greg's member that pulsed wetness, making Greg delirious. "I-I don't like it," he spluttered finally, as the words from his brother sunk in. Doing this – in front of Holly – and Rowley!
The hand removed itself, and Greg wasn't expecting the overwhelming sense of disappointment to take hold as hard as it did. Just go back; go back and keep touching. Instead, it curled into Greg's hair and with a quick yank jerked him upright.
The young boy was now forced to look at his reflection in the mirror, right up against his wicked brother and admittedly, he was a mess. His face was seriously red, and his underwear was straining against the wet bulge that caused Greg's stomach to flip in mortification as he viewed it. He tried to hide himself, but Rodrick pulled on his hair again.
The urge to cry was overwhelming.
"You don't like it?" Rodrick repeated dangerously, deep into his ear. Greg winced at the hot breathe – it hit him and sent goose bumps all down his back. "Because you look like you do. Are you lying Greg?"
How could he react like this? How could he look like this? In that mirror – his reflection – he had never felt so ugly.
"Are – you – lying?"
"No!"
Rodrick made a quick tsk-ing noise before thrusting Greg away from him. He used both hands to grasp hold of the sink – but the trembling limbs barely supported his weight.
"Let's see – "
Without any warning, Greg's underwear was pulled completely off. He wanted to protest, but last time he did, Rodrick had stopped and – well Greg didn't want it to stop as much as his dignity did, it seemed.
oOoOoOo
How many times had Rodrick instructed Greg to beg? Really beg. Beg and plead and cry like he always did when he wanted his way or he was scared. Where was it? If he really didn't like it, the younger brother wouldn't be moaning and trembling like he couldn't fucking get enough.
Or maybe it was possible that Rodrick had gone crazy. Maybe this incessant heart pounding against his rib cage was pumping this sickness through his body – making him unable to think – unable to do anything except bend to the desire of blowing another load on his brother. Ugh, he just wanted to coat Greg in his cum. What he would give to fucking paint him and own him like that.
So he really couldn't help making use of this writhing slave.
"Close your legs, press them together," Rodrick instructed, hands unable to stop roaming the soft skin – groping those thighs and pushing them together in demonstration. "Keep them tight. Tighter than that Greg, come on."
The boy looked like he was trying. Really. Why else was Greg's face all scrunched up like that? But even so the wimp was doing an awful job. Rodrick had to press those thighs together himself and when admired, he really wanted to fuck them – to force Greg into the rhythm of sex.
Rodrick unbuttoned his jeans, one hand clawing up Greg's back. He was hard – so hard it hurt because it had been that way that whole fucking day - and night. His cock throbbed in his hand, angry red then disappeared as it slipped through the tight seal of Greg's thighs. "Fuck - nng, shit..."
He didn't expect Greg to cry out softly or raise his ass in the air a little just as he was doing. The angle forced Rodrick's member to rub against his brother's – squeezing through the thighs and along the small length so softly it was like it was barely happening. "Ah – mmnn." Greg was seriously enjoying it.
But this was a punishment. "You have to tell me if I make you feel good, Greg. Tell me what a good master I am, and thank me for taking care of you."
Greg slumped over, his arms finally giving up, and Rodrick watched his brother's hand creep down – under his stomach and – no way was Greg going to get off on this? That was just too hot. Rodrick suddenly couldn't stand the thought but yet there it was, in the mirror – his brother stroking and trembling.
"Say, 'Please brother, it feels good'."
"Ah – g-good– ah – nn –"
Close enough. He squeezed Greg's legs together, forcing the friction tight against his member– the pleasure vibrating along his whole body as he fucked furiously – taking Greg hard. And his slave had to push himself off the mirror just so he didn't go crashing into it after each thrust – all while rubbing and moaning insensibly.
"Sexy, nngh fuck." Rodrick watched everything in that mirror – watched as the head of his cock slipped in and out of these wonderfully tight thighs; watched his brother shoot string after string of sticky cum onto himself. He felt hot, and at that moment, very powerful as he grabbed Greg and directed him onto his knees.
It only took one of those pleading, confused looks before Rodrick climaxed. He rode this wave of sick pleasure, painting his brother's face just like he wanted to, but like that wasn't enough he had to stick his dick right against it and rub every last drop of himself onto those flushed cheeks.
Greg would have some cleaning up to do.
A/N: Okay, let me first start out by apologizing. This isn't the usual type of smut that comes out of me. I feel naughty and perverted. There is something seriously wrong with me, but it was just too much fun and I really wanted to write this scene and I hope I did Gregrick justice! I couldn't decide who I wanted to write more – the innocent, slutty Greg or the crazy, perverted Rodrick. Fuck it, I just wrote both.
And it's the least you could do to write a review telling me how good it was and that maybe I really have fulfilled some sort of sick fantasy of yours and you want it to continue. In fact, while waiting for the next chapter, re-read all the others and review each one. It will only make me want to write mooooreee – Mmmhmm indeed.
oh yea that's right I dedicate this chapter to Sugarbubblegum33.
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