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Of course, when asked which sextuplet has the hardest time being honest about how he feels, the sensible, obvious answer is Ichimatsu. Truly a tsundere among tsunderes, the fourth Matsuno brother often requires the immediate threat of danger towards the object of his desires before he’ll actually admit that it’s something he’s interested in. And while it’s true that he has a bad habit of saying the opposite of what he means almost every time he speaks, it’s not like he’s the only Matsuno who doesn’t know how to just come out and say what he wants.
Karamatsu learned over time that the less talking he does, the more his brothers tolerate him and the more he’s allowed to hang out with them without conflict. Training himself to be more or less silent both in their presence and eventually around the house in general has its ups and downs. Up: he gets more quality bro time. Er, well… quality, quantity. What’s the difference? Down: everyone usually ignores him if he does try to talk, usually to the point of interrupting him. Up: he has more time to reflect on the great, impossible maze of life; to stare at his own gorgeous countenance in his trusty mirror and better himself as a person by studying men’s fashion and music. Down: nobody really cares if he leaves or enters a room. To him it seems like people actually appreciate it when he leaves and disregard him when he enters—which always brings him back to the eye of his downward spiral and seated straight where he started: square one.
Alone time with Ichimatsu isn’t much different, even without the pressure to keep to himself that the mix of their brothers’ personalities brings into the room. For now, Karamatsu just tries not to accidentally piss him off and scare him away, opting instead to keep a low profile and let his brother take the lead whenever he wants. If Ichimatsu does want to talk (which is never), then he will, and if he just wants to mess around (which is always), then that’s what they do.
Luck smiled upon the pair today as the two brothers were given the opportunity for some quality bonding time, alone. Somethingmatsu went off doing who knew what hours ago, That-one-matsu’s doing fuck all out of the house, and What’s-his-matsu and Whatevermatsu’re off doing who cares. After Karamatsu thoroughly checks that the door to their shared room is locked—which Ichimatsu checked already, damn it!—they end up sitting on the couch together, lazing around and watching whatever garbage TV pops up under their shitty subscription. Occasionally they cuddle or hold hands but aside from the warm sun shining its blissful beams into their room, the day is uneventful.
When the TV is turned off from there being nothing else to watch and the sky bleeds pink and purple from the setting sun, Karamatsu sits on the edge of the couch, fucking around with his hair in his pocket mirror. Ichimatsu sits right behind him, his thighs on the outside of Karamatsu’s as both pairs of legs dangle off the edge. Ichimatsu’s hands are wrapped around Karamatsu and settled contentedly in the blue parka’s warm front pocket, his head resting on his brother’s left shoulder. This kind of casual but intimate contact is extremely rare, and though Karamatsu pretends to be preoccupied with his own reflection, he takes care to remember every moment of this for later, when they have to put up a front for the others together.
Karamatsu experiments with combining little hair flips and expressions to see what best show off his exceptional beauty when Ichimatsu speaks up.
“Hey. Wanna mess around?” Ichimatsu doesn’t wait for a reply before pressing his lips to the back of Karamatsu’s neck, which stiffens in response.
Karamatsu lowers his mirror and asks, “Like this?” The position was kind of odd. What would Karamatsu even be able to do from here besides sit there and twiddle his thumbs? “I wouldn’t get to touch you much.”
“You don’t need to…” Ichimatsu removes his hands from the pocket and pulls Karamatsu’s arms behind his back, sandwiching them between their bodies. As he repositions them, he gently takes the mirror from his brother and tosses it to the floor where it lands with a clack. Karamatsu opens his mouth to protest but the sensation of Ichimatsu’s hands dragging down his chest and straight to the waistband of his jeans stops him. Ichimatsu then runs his fingers along the surface of his belt, the sensation carrying down to the flesh of his hips and earning a shudder from him. He plays with Karamatsu’s waistband for a minute, making his brother pant softly. Right when Karamatsu thinks maybe he’ll get to feel Ichimatsu’s hands on his all-too-eager dick, Ichimatsu slides them instead up under his parka. They’re rough but gentle as he glides them over his tank top, warming his skin as they work their way from his stomach to his chest.
Karamatsu tries not to let his body’s inexperienced reactions give away how much of a stupid virgin he really is. His cheeks glow salmon pink, he chews on his lip as he turns his head away, and he fights the unrelenting urge to cover his mouth. Obviously, he still wants to look cool, still wants to be a role model for his little brother even if Ichimatsu’s expertise at this somehow already far surpasses his own. Had there been a time in his life where Ichimatsu was able to practice these kinds of things while Karamatsu couldn’t? Things with girls? …With boys? He tries to swallow down the pang of probably unnecessary jealousy that he was probably just projecting onto the probably fake situation he’s created in his head. He doesn’t really know too much about what goes on in Ichimatsu’s life a lot of the time, but he can’t help but feel sad if he thinks he’s missing out on part of it. A squeeze from Ichimatsu brings him out of his thoughts and another kiss to his neck sends shivers down his body.
He leans against his little brother, needing a break from being so turned on. It’s hard to even sit upright as Ichimatsu runs his hands up and down Karamatsu’s chest, over his toned stomach, around his sides, rubs them flat against his muscles. Every now and then his hands brush against a nipple, but never for longer than just a second and Karamatsu idly wonders if Ichimatsu is doing it on purpose just to see how many times his breath hitches.
He moves his hands down to Karamatsu’s stomach and presses his lips to the spot right beneath his ear where his jaw starts, a kiss so sweet and chaste that it almost seems… loving? Karamatsu’s eyes widen, the sensation hot and new. He squirms under Ichimatsu’s touch, not trying to escape it but instead curling both into and away from it, wanting to feel more yet all at the same time trying to not be such a loser about it. He tilts his head to the right and Ichimatsu gladly takes advantage of the open spot on his neck, planting a wet, openmouthed kiss there. He works his way down, slowly nipping at and giving little sucks to his shoulder, maybe being considerate of the fact that Karamatsu often liked to wear exposing clothes? Wouldn’t wanna tip anyone off… Or maybe he just can’t stand to kiss him any higher than that. Either’s fine, really. Karamatsu takes what he can get.
Now at the point where he can feel his heartbeat in his pants, Karamatsu wishes he could see Ichimatsu’s face; he desperately wants to take in his expression while doing something so intimate this tenderly. He imagines turning around and cupping Ichimatsu’s face in his hands so he can kiss his cheeks, capture his lips with his, taste the sweet honey of his tongue; but being restrained, though loosely, stops him (not to mention simply being chicken). Maybe Ichimatsu would’ve appreciated that; some sign of reciprocation and affection…
Karamatsu doesn’t say much in response to being touched, doesn’t request a particular speed or special attention. He does, however, moan an occasional “mmp” or “hn” as Ichimatsu slips out his tongue, peppers kisses away from his neck, caresses the curve of his shoulder. Even though he seems like he’s really into messing around right now, Karamatsu hopes that his brother’s silence compared to his own pathetic keening isn’t a sign of being turned off. Was it possible that Ichimatsu’s just doing this for Karamatsu’s sake and doesn’t enjoy it at all? Maybe he even resents Karamatsu for it, just sees it as an obligation to him rather than doing it for any of his own desire? Then again, why would he even bother initiating this if that was the case?
“Is it getting too hot?” Ichimatsu murmurs into the side of his neck, noting Karamatsu’s stillness. After he recuperates from being caught up in his own insecure thoughts, Karamatsu nods. Of course it’s getting hot. Ichimatsu always makes him feel hot, whether he intends to or not. “Let’s fix that, then.” The way his voice lowers has the butterflies in Karamatsu’s stomach corkscrewing. Fix it? Yeah, right. With a tone like that, Karamatsu’s surprised he hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet.
Ichimatsu’s thumbs catch on the bottom hem of Karamatsu’s parka, lifting it up as he frees his hands from behind his back where they’d been trapped. Not sure what happens next, Karamatsu stays still, hands gripping the edge of his seat as his brother slowly removes the parka. He takes care to stretch out the neck of the hoodie and gently slide it up and over Karamatsu’s face, dragging his hands sweetly along his arms as he pulls it off. All that’s left is a thin, gray tank top and Karamatsu thanks his past self for not wearing the stupid one with his face on it. Though he knows it’s important to at least maintain the appearance of having such narcissistic confidence that he would painstakingly put his own image on his clothing, he feels like such a sight would have only made Ichimatsu cluck his tongue and walk away right then.
Still holding the blue hoodie in one hand while the other snakes around Karamatsu’s body, Ichimatsu rests his head on his brother’s shoulder once more and stares down at him with that half-lidded gaze. Karamatsu watches him out of the corner of his eyes, face heating up as he wonders whether he should be flattered or ashamed to be on the receiving end of that look. He subtly squeezes his legs together, hoping to relieve some of his amorous discomfort while Ichimatsu discards the hoodie off to the side. It lands hanging halfway off the couch before falling to the floor, much like his long-forgotten mirror.
Karamatsu’s hands may be free now, but he doesn’t know where his brother wants them anymore. Awkwardly, he holds his arms up and waits for Ichimatsu’s direction, hoping they won’t just end up getting trapped uselessly between their bodies again. He might not ever be great at touching anyone that isn’t himself—and really, saying he was “great” at touching himself is a bit of a stretch, too—but he still wants to participate. This could even be a good opportunity to learn.
Lifting his hands, Ichimatsu interlocks their fingers underneath Karamatsu’s so that the tops of his hands rest against Karamatsu’s palms. He leads them back to Karamatsu’s body and, without letting go, presses his palms to Karamatsu’s chest.
“Show me what you want me to do,” Ichimatsu murmurs, giving his hands a little squeeze.
Karamatsu’s heart practically bursts in his ribcage. He’s surprised that Ichimatsu isn’t startled by the loud heartbeats he’s sure he can hear resonating throughout the room and shaking the house’s walls—but maybe it was just his own blood rushing inside his ears (and to other places…). “Is it really… okay…” he asks weakly. Ichimatsu nods against the side of his head, his arms tucked under Karamatsu’s. He can’t see for sure, but he desperately hopes that he can feel a lazy smile on his younger brother’s mouth as he gulps and guides Ichimatsu’s hands to his chest. He stops moving when he gets to his nipples, eyebrows furrowing. Trying not to let the redness of his face deceive the cool front he’s putting up, he pauses, not wanting to vaporize in an instant the false air of experience and knowledgeability he wishes could be genuine.
“Mm? What is it that you want, Karamatsu nii-san?” God. Fucking. Damn it.
Karamatsu tucks his chin a little bit into his free shoulder and stares at the floor, regaining his composure. Ichimatsu is teasing him. Forcing him to be honest. Requesting for him to continue.
How can he be so… good at this? After all the research Karamatsu’s done on romance, the countless hours he’s logged on what makes good porn good, all the movies and novels and cheesy TV dramas he’s taken notes on—nothing ever really compares to the real thing and nothing had prepared Karamatsu for what to do when his turn came. It’s incomprehensibly unfair how natural it all seems for Ichimatsu; how he just calmly does whatever he wants and knows just what to say to arouse Karamatsu without even a blink of falter. God damn him and his natural skill. God damn his stupidly hot voice, his warm breath tickling Karamatsu’s neck, his gentle hold on his nervous hands. All good talent, wasted on a brother-fucking NEET like Ichimatsu… but after all, who is Karamatsu to say he’s any better? Given the current squirming, gulping, and blushing caused by said brother-fucker: absolutely nobody.
Karamatsu bites his lip.
Then he takes two of Ichimatsu’s fingers on either hand and pinches down, right on the peaks of his nipples through his tank top.
Ichimatsu—beautiful, soft, wonderful Ichimatsu—doesn’t just sit there and force Karamatsu to do all the work, though that might be a fun activity for another day. For now, he takes the initiative and pinches and pulls, agonizingly slow, at the sensitive spots and occasionally circles one of his fingers around them. The motions are deliberate and careful at first, but now and then he tweaks them with varying degrees of pressure, to which Karamatsu responds by writhing underneath his expert touch. How? How does he know exactly what to do to drive Karamatsu crazy?
As Ichimatsu gets to work, he kisses Karamatsu’s neck and presses him closer into his body, thighs squeezing him softly while his stomach brushes against his back. Karamatsu’s mouth hangs open just a little bit as he pants softly, hands not so much guiding Ichimatsu anymore as just sitting along for the ride, considering Ichimatsu still has them trapped between his fingers. He could change the flow of things at any time if he really wanted to, but for now the attention he’s getting on his chest is enough to gratify him.
Not so hard that he causes any pain, Ichimatsu presses his teeth into Karamatsu’s shoulder and tongues at the sacred sweet spot. If he doesn’t let up on the gentle kissing, the sweet sucking, the careful mouthing soon, there will definitely be a hickey… but Karamatsu is too far gone to protest or care. Without warning, Ichimatsu gives the hardest pinch yet, the fabric of the tank top grinding a bit of a burn into his nipples. Karamatsu keens softly and curls his body against his brother, an opportunity Ichimatsu gladly takes to spoon him from behind.
Head spinning, heart pounding like crazy as his thighs squirm together, Karamatsu tries to conceal the obvious tightness in his pants. It’s all too much, it feels too good. He’s sure his face is literally on fire while he gazes down and watches Ichimatsu’s hands being pseudo-controlled by his—and god, he doesn’t even have to go at a wild pace like they do in porn to get Karamatsu fidgeting like the horny idiot he is! Ichimatsu’s agonizingly, mouthwateringly slow touches, his gentle squeezing and pulling, the way he sometimes presses his palms against Karamatsu’s chest and urges him closer to the warmth of his body. It’s so damn good, Karamatsu could… just…
He swallows thickly and takes back control over their hands on his body, directing one of them down to his pants. The obstruction of the big skull on his belt makes it kinda hard to get any real action as he palms himself using his brother’s hand, but at this point any pressure against his boner is good. He huffs, demanding more and squishing Ichimatsu’s hand roughly into the front of his pants. The thickness of the denim irritates him, preventing him from feeling the kind of satisfaction he needs right now.
Ichimatsu gives Karamatsu’s hand a little shake, signaling that it’s his turn to help him out. Without letting go of his brother’s hands, Ichimatsu lightens up on the touch significantly, barely grazing over the pants with a couple fingers instead of mashing his hand into them like some pre-teen figuring out how to jerk off for the first time. Oh. So Karamatsu had it all wrong… the new sensation of the lighter touch spreads out over the surface of the fabric and tantalizes Karamatsu far more than his own rough touch had. Plus, there’s something erotic about the way Ichimatsu’s hand disappears and comes back into view over the bump in his pants while his other arm restrains him, holding him close. Karamatsu’s breathing slows down significantly as he watches, unable to escape. Not that he wants to. Damn him.
Ichimatsu rubs his cheek into the side of Karamatsu’s head. “Does it feel good, Karamatsu?”
He can only stutter out a pathetic “U-… uh-huh,” through his shallow breathing, but his brother doesn’t mind. By the way his voice lowers next, he might have even been pleased with the pitiful response.
“I can make it better.” When Karamatsu favors swallowing over properly replying, Ichimatsu adds, “If that’s what you want.”
It takes him a moment, but he finally nods against Ichimatsu and removes his hands, hoping that the offer extends to him tagging out. Thankfully, Ichimatsu’s hand slowly trails up his bare stomach, delicate fingers tracing a path down his happy trail as they edge in and out of his waistband. Karamatsu covers his mouth, hiding his embarrassment while also trying to contain any raw virginal noises that’ll inevitably escape him. Ichimatsu strokes the skin there for a little bit, playing with how hard and soft he can press into Karamatsu’s hips. He just barely skims his fingernails over the surface of his skin, not knowing that his fingers leave paths of fire as he feels out the way Karamatsu’s body pushes and pulls slightly along with him.
Karamatsu has no choice but to bite down into his knuckles when Ichimatsu’s hand pulls away and slides back over his jeans, unbuckling that bulky, obtrusive skull he always wore. Without bothering to pull the belt out of the beltloops, Ichimatsu unzips his pants with one hand and parts the remaining flaps of fabric with the other. He teasingly runs his fingers over the little peek of Karamatsu’s boxers through the window of his jeans before sliding his hand down and actually palming at it. Karamatsu’s body shoots hot white, cheeks ablaze with lust, then lulls to a pleasant warm as Ichimatsu skillfully grinds down.
He feels like he could probably just die here; doesn’t want this moment to ever stop. If he could rewind the last minute, not even having gotten to the good stuff yet, not even having been able to come, and relive it forever, he still would have. Ichimatsu is just that good—and that’s when Karamatsu notices the breath against his neck getting hot and short. Though he assumes it impossible to get any physically closer, Ichimatsu presses even more heavily against Karamatsu and makes his own hard-on known.
But to Karamatsu’s surprise, he doesn’t do anything about it. Just sits, huffing quietly from behind, one arm snaked around him while the other does things that makes the older brother struggle to stay composed. He just nuzzles his nose into the back of Karamatsu’s head, presses kisses to the nape of his neck, occasionally squeezes him in his hold.
Feeling brave, Karamatsu speaks up. “H-hey, wait. Ichimatsu…” He turns his upper body along with his head and gives himself a chance to see more of Ichimatsu’s face. He looks so cute; cheeks dusted pink, mouth just a little pouty from adjusting his breathing, and those same exact eyes whose expression change with such subtlety that you really have to have the kind of hours logged that Karamatsu did staring at them to notice.
“Mm?”
Karamatsu uses the hand closest to Ichimatsu’s body to run his fingers over the bulge in his brother’s pants, earning him a soft hitch in his throat. “I can help out with this…” He gulps. “If… that’s what… you want.”
Ichimatsu hesitates, throwing Karamatsu off a little. Oh god, what if he just ruined everything, like he always does? Before he loses his cool too much, Ichimatsu gives a labored nod. Now he can make it up to him for tolerating his painfulness! Overjoyed, Karamatsu spins around between Ichimatsu’s legs and lowers himself onto his knees… but he stops.
He has absolutely no idea what to do.
He could kick himself for offering Ichimatsu his brand of help which was probably more of a hindrance at this point. Shutting his eyes, he steels himself and tells himself to just do whatever seems right. He reasons that he can use his experience with his own body to try things out on Ichimatsu, and that he could trust that his brother would hit him upside the head and call him a name if he did something wrong anyway.
At first, he simply runs the fingers of his right hand up and down the thin fabric of Ichimatsu’s sweatpants, feeling out how amazingly hard he is. While his left hand rests over the inside of Ichimatsu’s right thigh, suddenly Karamatsu wishes he had some measure of how good he’s doing. He looks up, hoping for a sign of encouragement from his brother—and although he doesn’t say anything, his expression is praise enough. Not uncharacteristically of him, Ichimatsu’s eyes are half-lidded as he leans back onto his palms to give Karamatsu room to work, but his eyebrows are just barely furrowed and his head has this cute little tilt to it as he observes.
But Karamatsu doesn’t want an observer out of his brother. He wants a voyeur.
Karamatsu gingerly moves his curious fingers from the front of Ichimatsu’s pants to his left thigh, parting his mouth and pressing his tongue down while he closes it onto his erection. He drools through the soft fabric of Ichimatsu’s sweatpants, washing at his hardness as spit soaks through his boxers. He doesn’t lift his mouth up, giving and taking with his tongue and creating a vacuum of teasing little sucks. Karamatsu’s eyes are trained on the minor flash of Ichimatsu’s soft, pink belly peeking out from below the hem of his hoodie, but he draws them upward to check his progress again. The sight is more than rewarding: his brother’s brows furrow over shut eyes screwed tight as he bares just a hint of his teeth, trying to control his breathing. Karamatsu gives a little more gusto to his sucking, his head careening up and down while his mouth moves over the appendage under his tongue.
Giving the dark, wet spot on his sweatpants a little kiss to remove himself, Karamatsu decides he wants more. He hooks his fingers into Ichimatsu’s waistband and tugs down, signaling for him to lift his hips up so he can slide his pants down properly. Karamatsu doesn’t want to admit how often he’s dreamed of this moment; how even though he’s spent his life politely looking away for the sake of Ichimatsu’s privacy, he’ll finally get to show him just how much he wants him, finally get to make him feel good like he deserves.
But… what if he isn’t any good? He’s never done this, after all. Even though Karamatsu does have experience with the anatomy of a dick, there are a couple problems with his qualifications. One: he’s only ever had experience with his dick. Touching someone else’s, much less eventually putting it in your mouth while also trying to mind your teeth, is entirely different. Or so he imagines. What if he, you know… grabs too hard, or goes too fast? What if he turns Ichimatsu off so bad that he walks out right then and there and never gives him the time of day again? …And two: while he could potentially circumnavigate the intricacies of getting used to Ichimatsu’s dick in his hands, Karamatsu the virgin NEET had never done anything with his mouth besides eat and embarrass his brothers with his silly lines. What would it be like? What if he gags? What if he chokes? Can he even go that far…? And what’ll it be like for Ichimatsu?! Will he unintentionally scrape him with his teeth…? What if he bites down on accident because he started gagging? What if he bites Ichimatsu’s dick off? What if they have to call an ambulance?! What would he even say?!
“Oi.” Ichimatsu’s modest voice cuts through his eccentric train of thought. “Take a picture if you want to stare…”
Karamatsu looks up and notes his expression, his face a little red now as his eyes glare off somewhere to the side. Oops. Karamatsu hadn’t realized he was zoning out with the evidence of Ichimatsu’s arousal front and center, anxieties floating through his head as he ran through every scenario that could go wrong. He hadn’t even had the good manners to hold it for him, to indicate any of his own interest in their little exchange. After all, didn’t he say he could take care of it?
“Heh.” He forces himself to recover, quickly sweeping his bangs from his forehead. “The magnificence of your body simply overwhelmed me, buraza.”
Ichimatsu’s eyes go white from the trademark painfulness of his brother, but at least he doesn’t push him off and leave. Here goes nothing…
Karamatsu, as gently as he possibly can, holds Ichimatsu’s dick in both hands as if it’s the most precious, important thing he’s ever handled and not the overabused hot spot of a horny twenty-something virgin furry who never got any. He closes his eyes, leans in, and plants what would be, were it not for the destination, an innocent kiss just under the slightly wet tip. Said destination twitches in response and Karamatsu kisses it once, then twice more, slowly peppering his way along the length of it.
In the charged silence of the room, he briefly hopes he’s doing okay and opens his eyes, trying to focus. Running his thumb over the little bead of precum at the top, he slicks it down Ichimatsu’s length—he at least knows better than to try and taste that. He then gives a couple of slow, unsure pumps and bites his lip. Just go for it, he tells himself, do something cool and hot and sexy like take the whole thing in your mouth; lick it and suck on it like the sweetest lollipop in the world; bob your head up and down and clamp your hands on Ichimatsu’s thighs as you refuse to let him move away, anything! And then…
He tenderly brushes his lips against the base, more like he’s testing out the softness of Ichimatsu’s skin rather than trying to arouse him at all. Surprisingly, it’s kind of smooth and feels almost silky against his mouth, maybe just because his lips are more sensitive than his hands. He nods his head slowly to get more of that feeling, lips trailing up to the tip and back down as he drags his curious mouth over Ichimatsu.
He could punch himself in the face. This isn’t… sexy, or even good. At all. Who could ever have any fun with a painful guy like him? Maybe Ichimatsu’s just counting down the mistakes Karamatsu has left before he unleashes the ultimate beatdown on his self-esteem, allotting only so many chances before admitting it was all a clever rouse just to embarrass him over his inability to be a decent partner.
But then Karamatsu notices Ichimatsu’s hands, trembling slightly as his white knuckles bury into the cushion of the couch.
Eh?
Karamatsu stops again, lips frozen against Ichimatsu’s erection as he looks up. Ichimatsu’s chest heaves as he forces himself to regulate his breathing, his face a concentrated blushy mess. His eyes are screwed tight, mouth parted as he inhales and exhales. Noticing that Karamatsu isn’t doing anything anymore, he peeks down at him, brow still furrowed.
“God, Karamatsu… Stop teasing me.”
Eeehhhhhhhhh?!
Karamatsu’s heart does about four rapid backflips in his chest, his jaw dropping, hanging open out of sheer shock. Ichimatsu cards a hand through Karamatsu’s hair and then trails it down to cup his cheek, running his thumb over Karamatsu’s cheekbone.
“Nii-san. Please…”
Oh god. That look. That voice. Karamatsu could have died. He probably should have. Probably deserved to, I mean, who does this with their own…! Whatever, he’s already dreaded over it enough the past few years. And if Ichimatsu felt the same, felt confident enough to pursue his feelings even though he’d openly admitted that he was unburnable garbage, then Karamatsu decided he was the same and didn’t care either.
He wants to prove himself worthy of Ichimatsu’s affection, worthy of taking on an empty-headed loser like him. He swallows down his nerves, sticks out his pale pink tongue, and takes his first lick, long and slow. Ichimatsu’s ragged moan disappears in the room as he drops his head back, a sound Karamatsu makes a goal to replicate. Letting his mouth wet Ichimatsu’s dick as he drags his tongue up and around the tip before trailing back down, he holds the base steady and pumps. Ichimatsu’s hand reaches around to the nape of Karamatsu’s neck and he lightly clutches a fistful of hair, gripping it for purchase. Karamatsu hopes that means he’s doing good because having a fist in his hair, pulling tightly, kind of turns him on. Even more so than he already is. Maybe Ichimatsu might even force his movements, roughly pushing against his skull and thrusting in and out of him. Wouldn’t that be something…
“Mmph.” Karamatsu hums as he runs a kiss down Ichimatsu’s dick, more forcefully than before. His hand pumps a little faster and he presses his mouth to the base, lips pressed against one of his balls. The soft warmth of his tongue meets the smooth skin there, circling it a couple times just to get it wet. Judging by the way Ichimatsu’s hand twitches against his skull, struggling not to press Karamatsu’s face further into his crotch, he guesses he’s doing pretty okay! He thinks he can do this now… he reminds himself, just do what seems right, try to make Ichimatsu feel good. He wants to lower his voice, sexily gaze up at him and tell him it’s okay to use him, to go ahead buraza, and do whatever you want with me, but he doesn’t trust himself to find the right words without running him off.
Instead, he lifts his head and licks his lips, preparing himself. He kisses the pink peak of Ichimatsu’s shaft once more but stays put this time, pressing his mouth down against it. He opens up a little, tongue flat, and slowly moves the head back and forth across the wet bed of his tongue. Ichimatsu exhales weakly, hand trembling against Karamatsu’s neck as his grip loosens. Karamatsu finally pushes it into his mouth and then closes his lips around him, getting used to the way it feels as it sits just behind his lips before he even tries to move down. When he finally proceeds, he immediately feels something… off about the whole thing, as evidenced by the sudden jolt of Ichimatsu’s fistful of locks pulling too hard (which Karamatsu kinda likes, actually).
“T-teeth,” Ichimatsu mutters quietly.
Fuck! After all the mental preparation he did earlier, too… “Sorry!” Karamatsu slops off his brother’s hard-on, scolding himself for not remembering. The motion throws Ichimatsu’s hand away, which lands back down on his side and resumes its task of supporting him.
“No, n-no…” Ichimatsu’s mouth is crooked as he stares down at Karamatsu. “’Snot a… bad thing…” He almost looks like a cat with its ears back, ashamed of something it did. Well, cats don’t get embarrassed, but still… Ichimatsu was always so cute…
Wait.
“You… like it when I… use my teeth?” Karamatsu tilts his head, dick still in hand. He flicks his wrist curiously as he asks, making a note to not accidentally rip it off. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“You didn’t hurt me when you did it. But sometimes… pain feels good, too…” Ichimatsu sucks in his bottom lip. What was he asking here…?
“I see…” Karamatsu pumps a couple more times, thinking carefully about how to do this. Ichimatsu seems happy to return to closing his eyes and leaning back on his hands while his brother does the work, so… as long as he trusts him…
He cautiously opens his mouth, readjusting it so that it’s a little wider, and breathes hotly as he holds himself over Ichimatsu’s dick. At first, he takes extreme care in making sure that only his tongue and the wall of his lips close around him, steadily bobbing a couple times while he lets his tongue sweep upward. He inhales through his nose and then thoughtfully allows his teeth to press into him, too, feeling Ichimatsu’s hips rear up and stay up for just a moment before he relaxes again. Good? He hopes? He’s never really seen any porn where that was the right thing to do, but then again… he never really looks at the more licentious stuff. That seemed more like Ichimatsu’s thing… maybe he should watch more kinky porn.
By the way Ichimatsu’s hips sway under him, rutting against his chin like he wants it more roughly, Karamatsu assumes it a sign to continue. He pulls his head up, faintly scraping his teeth along with him. His earlier worries of biting the poor thing off melt away as he tilts his head just right, letting his sharper canines drag in a way that creates a bit more of a sting while his wet tongue veers left and right, leaving behind a shiny trail of drool. His brother moans again, the raspy, dark voice of anticipation exciting Karamatsu to no end. Now that Ichimatsu is putty in his hands… his mouth?, Karamatsu lets his mouth pool with saliva to help him reduce the friction and bobs more quickly, his hand jerking in tandem to service whatever his head can’t reach.
He has to admit; sucking cock was never really something he thought he would be able to get off to. Not that he felt any particular way about it, or people who did it… it just always seemed like… work. Like washing the dishes just to make your roommate happy, even though there was an entire ecosystem growing in the sink by the time you got to it. But as he watches the slight changes of expression on Ichimatsu’s face, the way his spine curves and heaves while his hips writhe under Karamatsu’s hands, the way he seeks out pleasure and new angles in his mouth yet silences whatever ecstasy he’s about to cry out as his mouth gapes quietly, denying Karamatsu the one thing he wants to hear most—he’s reminded of his own raging boner and decides that this is nice.
He also remembers that not too long ago, he was lucky enough to have that very lustfulness almost taken care of. Almost. Had he been too eager to please? Too horny? Or just stupid? Though he wishes his pants were off, cock free from the oppression of his boxers so he could boost his current wave of ecstasy, he doesn’t mind or stop. He likes taking care of Ichimatsu. Having him at his mercy like this, face radiating heat and shame as Karamatsu gives him the only thing he has to show his love, the rest of his body reacting according to their own individual impulses rather than connecting with a brain no longer in its proper headspace—it’s all peaches. He could do it for days and never tire of it.
He isn’t so loud and sloppy that it sounds particularly perverted as he continues his ministrations, but there are occasional wet slurps and Karamatsu’s muted grunts that the silence of the room highlights. Karamatsu can feel the tension behind his brother’s thighs, a slight quivering in the couch as Ichimatsu brings both his hands up to his own face, his nails dragging down his furrowed brow and his cheeks as Karamatsu quickens his pace for the last time.
He’s a little surprised when he feels Ichimatsu’s hand right below his, gripping tightly at the base of his own cock. Is he gonna help or—he doesn’t have time to think before Ichimatsu, with his free hand, grabs a fistful of tank top and yanks him up to eye level.
“Wha—hmmp.” Karamatsu’s hungry, teeming mouth drips as his brother’s dry lips force themselves against his—he guesses Ichimatsu doesn’t care about tasting his own wetness. Dark eyes widen as he realizes that Ichimatsu is kissing him. Kissing! It feels so… he doesn’t have time to reciprocate before Ichimatsu pulls back, still gripping onto his own arousal.
“Karamatsu.” The low hum of his voice makes him gulp. His mind wanders with possibilities; with Ichimatsu holding onto himself like that, what depraved fantasies could he be attempting to bring to life?—but then he watches a blush so genuine spread across Ichimatsu’s cheeks that he can’t even think anymore. “I wanna make you feel good, too.” Karamatsu freezes, mind completely blank. Nobody ever… considered him at all, really. Especially not when it came to what he wants. Nobody except for Ichimatsu.
He isn’t sure how to answer and struggles to get the words out. “I… hah…”
“So show me,” Ichimatsu interrupts, pulling him in. The tip of his nose and curve of his lips just barely brush against his brother’s as his gaze bores into his eyes. “Show me what you really want.”
Karamatsu blinks. What does he want? To say he’d been innocent all along, that he hasn’t imagined bouncing recklessly in Ichimatsu’s lap or offering his mouth for him to use however he wanted or stared at the occasional exposed collarbone of a certain sleeping Karamatsu Boy every now and then, would all be lies of biblical proportions. He always exercised a certain level of restraint when it came to acting on his feelings—why else would he spend so much time sitting out, staring at himself in a mirror, playing guitar on the roof, distracting and distancing himself?
He pulls Ichimatsu’s hands, leading him onto the ground in front of the couch with him. Ichimatsu’s waistband still circles his thighs loosely just below his erection, bobbing a little with the motion of sitting down, while Karamatsu’s boxers continue to tightly restrain him behind his undone jeans and loose belt. Determined, still holding his brother’s hands, Karamatsu sweetly kisses Ichimatsu. He’s pleasantly surprised when instead of being pushed off like he expected, Ichimatsu sighs into it, their mouths trembling against each other as their lips gleam with wetness.
When Karamatsu’s satisfied, he sheepishly pulls back. “Can we… touch each other, together…?” It’s that sweet voice that secretly makes Ichimatsu’s knees weak, the one where he drops the façade and doesn’t deepen it to seem cool. The one Ichimatsu melts like wax in sunlight over, the one Karamatsu usually only pulls out when he’s off-guard or thinks he’s singing without an audience.
Ichimatsu nods, huffing from how aroused he is. Karamatsu slides his belt out and off from around his hips and barely even has time to pull his pants down before his brother grabs him by the ass and shoves him onto his lap, their dicks touching. Dazed, Karamatsu doesn’t notice the tiny bottle of lube in Ichimatsu’s hand until he’s slicking them both down, a cool wetness dripping down and between them. Did he… pull the bottle from his pocket? How long had that been there? Could’ve been useful a few minutes ago…
He quickly discards the concern when the tempo of Ichimatsu’s hands lulls him into a sweet, warm bliss. Ichimatsu jerks them both off for a bit as Karamatsu sits still, his forehead pressed to his brother’s. Karamatsu doesn’t think to wipe the little bead of drool pooling at the corner of his lip before it gleams down his chin, broken groans echoing against Ichimatsu’s mouth.
Breathing harder as Ichimatsu’s hands work, one cupping and grinding while the other snakes around to clutch a handful of tank top, some primal sexual urge within him releases him from caring so much about how much of a virgin he is and allows him to just seek out more. His body glows hot as he moves from uncertainty to indulgence, happy that he doesn’t have to be so anxious about his performance anymore. He nuzzles Ichimatsu’s forehead and then places his head on his shoulder, not really caring that he isn’t getting a chance to help him jack them off. But he did just give him a blowjob… that’s gotta be fair, right?
Ichimatsu’s hips softly roll against Karamatsu, eventually quickening the pace so fast that his mind goes blank, consumed by lust. His only goal now is to chase that hot feeling, to work the pressure in his hips up all the way into a frenzy of grandeur. He could never do anything like this alone, and part of him wonders how many hours of practice Ichimatsu must have put in to be this good or if it’s just some sort of natural ability he had to work Karamatsu over in every way possible.
Eventually Ichimatsu stops relying on his hand to provide friction and instead keeps it still, letting his hips do all the work as he grinds against Karamatsu. He looks up through his lashes and watches Ichimatsu’s face screw up one last time before softening as he comes in his own hand. The sight is so beautiful, so sacred, that Karamatsu wraps his arms around Ichimatsu and pulls him close as tightly as he can, his own climax jerking his hips one last time against his brother. His eyes jolt open as he realizes what he just did and he holds Ichimatsu by the shoulder, pushing himself back and looking down.
There it is. All over Ichimatsu’s parka pocket—a load of jizz so thick and sticky that Ichimatsu is sure to kill him. He checks his brother’s expression, darkly staring at the goo all over his clothes. Karamatsu waves his hands in front of him wildly, trying to say sorry, but Ichimatsu just utters a single, quiet, “Damn.” Like he’s impressed. Karamatsu won’t shut up with the apologies, looking pathetic as his hands tremble pitifully before him, so Ichimatsu grabs him on both sides of his face and silences him with a kiss.
“Kusomatsu.” The nickname holds no malice as he leans his forehead against his brother’s, giving them both a chance to recuperate. “Just… shhh.” His warm breath tickles Karamatsu’s mouth as he idly strokes his cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. Karamatsu reaches up and gently holds onto Ichimatsu’s wrist, sighing into his touch. He doesn’t say anything, instead allowing the quiet of the room to blanket them in calm. He smiles, eyes shut, and daydreams about the future, hoping they can stay like this forever—not necessarily with their pants down and limp dicks touching, spent. Though that part would be fine, too.
He just wants to spend as much time with Ichimatsu as he possibly can. For the rest of their lives, if he can help it.
“Hey,” Ichimatsu mumbles.
“Mm?”
“You know that I… really do…” He purses his lips and speaks so quietly that Karamatsu would have missed it, had he not been secretly hoping for the words. “Love you, right,” he finishes solemnly, face red.
He tries not to tear up. Really, he does. But after all the attention he’s been given today, after all the times Ichimatsu asked what he wants, after this…! He just can’t help it when wetness stings his eyes and he squeezes Ichimatsu, capturing him in a circle of arms and trapping him in a hug. “I love you too, my buraza!” They fall back onto the couch, Ichimatsu’s arms struggling underneath Karamatsu’s iron hold before they relax completely, giving up. Their legs move together to realign them longways on the couch, Karamatsu nuzzling into Ichimatsu’s neck as he rests on top of him.
He feels Ichimatsu’s mouth twitch against his ear. “Don’t push it…”
But then Ichimatsu reaches around and presses his hands to the small of Karamatsu’s back, returning the hug as he sighs happily beneath his brother. Karamatsu knows that neither of them are usually very good at saying what they want, but he gets the feeling that they’ll get better at it over time. For now, showing each other is just as good.