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[Ariel is small, all thin arms and legs that haven't lost quite all of their childish softness just yet. He's got a long way to go yet in growing up, but he's old enough to have matured in a lot of ways, and he's always been too far from innocent -- an intelligent and arrogant child with interests not even an adult could justify.

But now he's a teenager, and aware of the world at large, and apparently aware of the world right at home, too. There's no hesitation in straddling Tristan's hips, shoving his shirt up and leaning down to kiss his throat. There's a good deal of his life since the revolution he's hidden, especially recently, but it's about time his big brother got used to what kind of person he's really living with.]

[Tristan presses his hand to his face, breathing shallowly, still in pain from his broken wrist, eyes leaking a little again at Ariel's all-too-sure actions. This is horrifying. His brother is really fucked up. Where did he learn to do this anyway? He can't even fathom what's going on in Ariel's head.]

[He tries to take a steadying breath, pitches his voice quiet and obedient as possible. Pleading.]

Ariel please, please don't. Do you want me to beg again? I will.

You can beg if you want to. It sounds nice.

[But he doesn't want to stop, so he won't. There's a certain lack of experience in his movements, skill he hasn't built up yet, but no lack of confidence, and he's steady and self-assured when he slides Tristan's shirt off. He presses his face against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and trailing his lips to his collarbone, where he bites down, hard.]

Edited 2014-07-31 12:53 (UTC)

[Tristan smells like soap and coffee and a little bit of sweat. It's pleasant and masculine and familiar. And he flinches, skin shivering at each touch in revulsion and tension, scared to move, wanting badly to shove Ariel off. He doesn't want to know how his brother's lips feel on his skin or what it's like to be bitten--if this weren't his brother, if this were different circumstances, a different person, he'd be really turned on. It's horrifying.]

Ariel please.

[He's going to beg anyway. There's near faded hickies on his chest, where clothes would have kept them hidden, a few still a little dark.]

I'll do anything, I'm yours right? So please don't do this.

[His voice is choked, desperate and humiliated and urgent.]

That's right, you're mine.

[He mutters against his skin, exploring his chest with hands still small and soft from lack of hard work. There's just a slight tightness to his voice now, though. He finds one of the darker spots and digs his fingernails in, as if to claw it away.]

I'll make sure no one but me ever marks you like that again.

Edited 2014-07-31 13:14 (UTC)

[Tristan winces, biting his lip. His little brother's hands are soft and warm and the bite of nails is petrifying when he looks down and sees the marks, fading reminders of June's existence.]

Okay. I won't get close to anyone else. But please, please let this be enough. Please.

You already know I'm not going to stop.

[What does he think he's accomplishing with those pleas, besides spurring him on? It sounds nice. The fear and desperation is dangerously attractive. It's just further encouragement to take one hand to Tristan's pants, palming him through the fabric while he searches out another old hickie and kisses over it, making sure to cover it with a mark of his own.]

[He thinks his brother might stop, might actually listen. Well, no, he doesn't think it. But it's a hope. He reaches up to grab Ariel's wrist and pull his hand away from his crotch, the movement absolutely reflex, not thought about. He pales when he realizes but doesn't let go of Ariel's wrist.]

Please. I'll end up fighting you, I can't--don't do this.

That's easy enough to take care of.

[He lets Tristan hold his wrist. It's fine, he still has a hand free with which to press down on his ribs, ruthless and sharp.]

[Ow. Ow ow he gasps, pushing back at Ariel, starting to panic (like he hasn't been panicking for a while).]

[Now, really. If he's going to be difficult, Ariel will just have to grab his broken wrist again and twist it further, yanking it up towards the headboard where he can bind it with a spell.]

Your struggling is cute, too.

[He sucks in a breath, sharply, the nauseating pain stilling him enough. He has to blink to clear his vision of spots, not fighting Ariel more, just trying to breathe raggedly.]

[What is he supposed to say...? He's so confused and scared and horrified and in grief but it's his brother.]

[While he's momentarily stunned, Ariel takes the opportunity to bind his other wrist as well, freeing his own in the process. With Tristan stuck it's easy to go right back to business, putting a hand down his pants and kissing him hard at the same time.]

[He whines against Ariel's lips, but doesn't turn his face away, mouth opening willingly. He doesn't want to stop breathing again. He does buck and strain his hips away, trying to squirm away from that hand.]

[He presses down on Tristan's hip with his free hand, holding him while he touches him with eager confidence. The kiss is thorough but brief, ending with a bite to his lower lip and a relaxed laugh.]

Shh, relax. You don't want me to hurt you again, do you?

No...

[He's breathing heavily from all of this, mostly just pain and horror. How can his brother look like that, so calm and sweet, while doing this? It's... It's really chilling actually. Tristan's a little afraid he's the one losing his mind when Ariel seems so unfazed.]

[Even in this situation he's a teenage boy, his body is going to react to being touched.]

I didn't think so.

[He scoots back a bit, giving himself room to get between Tristan's legs and tug his pants down for better access. His inexperience shows again when he strokes him, a little clumsy and lacking finesse, but it's enough to do what it's intended to do, and he's concentrating on what receives the most reaction now, clearly studying with intent to repeat this later.]

[Tristan chokes, turning his head to bury his face in his shoulder, face and neck red with shame. It doesn't need to be that skilled to get him hard, though it takes more effort than it would under better circumstances.]

[He makes a low noise of misery the more his body responds, sobbing against this new level of humiliation and shame.]

Ariel please.

Now now, how could I possibly stop when you're so well-suited to this?

[The shame fits his face perfectly, in Ariel's opinion. He wants to see more of it, so he'll continue to lazily, purposefully move his hand, reaching up with the other to turn Tristan's face back in view and run fingertips along his lips.]

Open your mouth.

[His face is a picture of misery, tears falling pretty steadily, red and contorted in shame and grimaces of pleasure and self-loathing. He grits his teeth then gasps at something Ariel's other hand does, lips parting. His eyes squeeze shut.]

[He takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into Tristan's mouth, reveling in watching him cry. Their lives are never going to be repaired after this, and that's a wonderful feeling.]

You can figure out what to do, right? Be a good boy.

[Nothing will be okay again. Tristan obeys, feeling cold down his spine as he runs his tongue over Ariel's fingers, licking them. He never wanted to know what his brother's skin tasted like, but he does now.]

That's right. More.

[He wiggles his fingers in his brother's mouth, slowing his touches below and waiting for him to work a little harder. He wants to see him humiliate himself, obedient and dominated.]

[The involuntary noise he makes is miserable, lips closing around Ariel's fingers, sucking on them slowly. He pushes his tongue between them, over them, along the pads of his fingers and under, cringing the whole time. But exactly what Ariel wants, obedient, degraded, submissive.]

[That's perfect. Perfectly pathetic, perfectly base, perfectly attractive. He shivers at the feeling, letting out a low, shaky breath and pressing a little harder with his thumb on his next stroke. He pulls his fingers back eventually, instead running his hand along Tristan's thigh and to his ass.]

No wonder all the girls like you so much.