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"Ha? Talentless hack. You're cannon-fodder. Stop wasting everyone's time and get lost already."
Regret pierced Genya's heart, icy needles freezing him in place. His once-brother dismissed him with a flick of his wrist and turned away, tossing his apology to the side unacknowledged, unaccepted. Creeping seeds of despair sent winding tendrils through his arteries, incubated in isolation and longing. Almost without thinking, he murmured, "But I even learned to eat demons so I could fight beside you.."
Sanemi's footsteps faltered, pungeant sour rage roiling from his back in waves as he stilled and turned again. At once, Genya wished he'd thought to ask for backup, for support, for a ripcord, for someone to fall back on when his attempts to impress his older brother, or communicate with him at all, inevitably went south. If he'd had the presence of mind to consider anything other than a best-case-scenario fantasy or the most likely case of being ignored as usual, he might've thought to ask one of his new comrades to at least keep watch from afar and call for help in case of an admittedly likely emergency.
"You what?" Sanemi spat, teeth gritted so hard they squeaked with the clench of his jaw muscles, "You ate...demons?" His eyes flickered, wavered. His figure blurred, disappeared.
Genya was only allowed a moment of panicked confusion before radiant agony burst through his eyesockets and his world went dark, an afterimage of his brother's enraged expression half-hidden behind looming, extended fingertips. Blasts of streaky, hot, lung-shredding pain scraped his orbital nerves, scooping out the mess of flesh with bitten-short nails. Distant, warped commotion filled the silence left by his scream, like the warbling cries of dying cicadas.
Gravity shifted, warmth spilling down his cheeks and chin and onto the floorboards, a firm bar of warmth hoisting him abruptly across the stomach. Hot and sour bile flooded his mouth and poured from between gasping lips, another hitch of his guts accompanying every jostle of the gore on his cheeks.
---
Quiet warmth awaited Genya when he next awoke. The impenetrable darkness was expected, but the mildly itchy feeling of bandages across his face, the warm weight of a fluffy quilt, and the comforting scent of scorched-rice tea were certainly not. Half-expecting to have been tossed out into the street to fend for himself and heal his injuries the only way he knew how, if he could even manage that in his current state, the reality of the situation refused to sink in.
A soft slurping sound followed by the click of a clay cup being set down on a table drew his nonexistent gaze, though trying to focus with the eyes he no longer had only drew another pulse of agony from the depths of his skull. Maybe he'd been left with a guard to make sure he couldn't escape or accidentally harm himself? One of the other pillars might have set provisions in place in case something like this happened, Genya thought glumly, since there was no way Sanemi would've taken such steps after so resoundly rejecting his apology, their relationship, and...him.
The high crunch of a rice cracker being bitten and chewed followed from what he assumed was a table beside his bed, punctuated by sighs and scuffs of shoes against the floor. Whoever they were, they were impatient, probably waiting for some sign that Genya was awake and not just jerking about in unconscious pain. With a click of their tongue, they reached over to--to do nothing, why were they not doing anything? They were above him, he could tell, their presence encroaching on his space, their hand close enough that he could feel warmth on his bare cheek and forehead, but they made no further moves.
"Haa, dumbass..." an immediately uncomfortably familiar voice sighed beside him, "You coulda been normal. The hell'd you do all that shit for...?" Carefully, haltingly, rough fingers settled above his bandages, smoothing backward over his forehead and through his hair, stroking as one might calm a skittish cat. "You're not cut out for this. Don't turn yourself into a monster to keep up with me. Just let me...fix this. Lemme make it safe. Lemme keep you safe, 'kay?"
Unfamiliar solemnity drenches their tone, but the gruff drawl is undoubtedly his older brother Sanemi. Even with years spent apart, the alienation of his attitude and their circumstances, and the most recent violent rejection, the touch of his calloused fingers on his forehead slows the nervous thrum of his heart. Sanemi takes another sip of the nutty-smelling tea, sets it aside again, takes another bite of senbei, probably zarame knowing his brother's insatiable sweet tooth, or maybe kawara, and drags his fingers through his little brother's hair again. The slight grit of sugar crystals unpleasantly scrapes his scalp; Zarame, then.
"Uh, could you please wipe your hand first?" Genya squeaked, reluctant to ruin the moment but equally as reluctant to be covered in crumbs. He could only imagine the shocked indignant expression on Sanemi's face at having been heard make such a confession, the chair at his bedside squealing and toppling with a clatter. "Or...Don't. Sorry."
A single set of footsteps stomped out of the room, slamming the sliding door open and shut in quick succession. An ode to his brother's excellent communication skills, he supposed. Fumbling sightlessly to get out of bed and in range of someone who might be willing to bring him some demon flesh to heal his eyes, he came across the cup and half-eaten rice cracker set on the table without a plate or paper--and a second cup, still steaming. Beside it was a single bumpy disc, slightly rough. Kuromame senbei. A stinging sensation burned the corners of his eyes, bandages dampening against his face as he humbly decided to tuck himself back in. Just for the moment. Just a little while.
---
Before he knew it, he was being awoken by carefully careless hands dragging him up into a sitting position, leaning him foreward, and yanking his bandages out of the loose knot they'd been tied into behind his head. Between grunts of confusion and vague complaints, Genya pieced together that his wounds were being tended to(although not in the way he'd like). Warm, nimble, rough-tipped fingers peeled away stiff blood-stained gauze and scrubbed away crusted clots, stopping in a heartbeat whenever Genya winced away in pain at something raw being bumped. Damp wads of cloth dropped into some dish set in his lap, forgotten immediately. Groggily, he lifted his face when fingers hooked under his chin.
"Sane-nii?" Genya grumbled, reaching for the wrist of the hand holding his chin--then wailing as something caustic filled the hollows of his collapsed eyelids, scratching and yanking at the wrist of the hand holding his face in place, his sudden thrashing sending the dish of used cloths flying across the room and tangling the blankets hopelessly between his legs.
"Shaddap, you want it to get infected?" Sanemi barked, fingertips digging into the join of his jaw.
"IT HURTS! D-demon flesh! Just bring me-" Genya coughed, half-smothered behind his brother's crushing grip, yanking at his unmoving arms and slapping at his torso ineffectively. "I'll heal ff-faster--"
"Hell no. No more of that crap," Sanemi huffed derisively, another wave of firey liquid filling and overflowing the ravaged cavities in Genya's skull. The gentle sweeps of cool cloth in its wake battered his pride to the point of childish whining, pawing at his older brother pleadingly. "If you're so determined to get your ass killed hunting demons even after everything I've done, I'll have to make sure you can't." An herbal-smelling cream, infinitely soothing after the horrendous burn of disinfectant, was tenderly rubbed in rings around his eyelids before his chin was finally released.
"I wanted to help," Genya murmured as a long strip of gauze wound around his head once again, dry, split knuckles occasionally scraping his skin as quick hands re-bandaged him.
"You can't."
"I know I can't use breaths, but-"
"You can't," Sanemi gritted grimly, teeth creaking. Another cloth was dabbed under his nose, wiping away snot and spit gathered by the pain of getting his wounds treated. "You can help by sitting your ass down right here and staying out of my way." As he picked up the discarded cloths and supplies, he grumbled mostly to himself, "It's distracting to have to worry about you getting hurt out there."
Doubting what he'd just barely heard, Genya angled his face toward where he thought the door was, listening to Sanemi's footsteps. Heavy, slow. This wasn't the reconciliation he'd spent years dreaming of, but...maybe it was enough. Sanemi had disappeared, put himself through hell, and Genya had wanted to make amends and lessen his burden, but maybe that wasn't what he was supposed to do. At least, not in the way he'd thought. Is this clemency?
---
Apparently everyone at Sanemi's hellish training camp had been warned so sternly against coming near his room, wherever in the estate it was, that no one could even set foot in the house, not even to use the restroom. On a few occasions he could hear Sanemi "scolding" someone outside, muffled but enraged as always. He'd tried to find his way outside to ask someone to bring him demon parts a few times, but each time he'd either gotten so horribly lost he had to call for his brother to lead him back out of whatever pantry or clothes-closet he'd fallen in or he'd been caught and led back to his room while being chided for his exasperating antics.
He'd been so shocked to see how irascible Sanemi had become since they'd been separated as children, almost as quick-tempered and violent as their father had been, but the stoic affection with which Sanemi cared for him as his injuries slowly, humanly healed dispelled the notion mercifully quick. Soon it would be too late to regain his sight by consuming demon-flesh, but...Trading his freedom for nostalgic moments of being led by the arm by his older brother to enjoy a hot bath, for having a hot cup of tea tilted to his lips and Sanemi offer to share snacks with childish sincerity, for brief confessions of his real feelings and worries, it felt almost fair.
"That Tanjiro kid is so damn annoying," Sanemi grunted, hefting Genya out of bed and linking arms at the elbow, "Keeps buggin' me to see you. Told him to fuck off."
"Huh? Is he still here? Can I see him?"
"Dunno, probably, he's stubborn as hell. Maybe once we take care of Muzan," he half-agreed, dragging him down the hall faster than Genya would've liked, "You better not be thinkin' of getting him to bail you out of here, though. I'll slaughter anybody I catch trying that crap." Vulgar as always.
"I won't run away," Genya asserted, frowning to himself as he stumbled around a corner, leaning hard into his older brother's pull. Sanemi hummed and opened a door, pulling him through into what he shortly realized was the bathroom. It was embarrassing to need someone else to bathe him, but he was freshly blind and it was marginally better to be bathed by a relative than a stranger. The door clapped shut behind them and the simple robe Genya had been forced into for simplicity of dressing's sake was on the floor before he could complain that he could do it himself.
Sanemi led him further in to the bath itself, put a hand on either shoulder to shove him down onto a stool, and unceremoniously dumped a bucket of warm water over his head and down his back, ignoring his splutters of protest. His knees popped as he squatted and began lathering, washerwoman-rough and unrelenting. If he had a washboard on hand he might've just used that! The sudsy rag swept over and under his arms, across his neck and shoulders, over his back, over his front, down his legs, even between his fingers and toes. The last couple times he'd even gone so far as to roughly scrub between his legs with a gruff remark of "Stop bitching! You wanna reek? Huh? It wouldn't hurt if you'd hold still!" This time, however, he hesitated.
"Uh," Sanemi blurted, uncharacteristically halting, "Do you want to do it yourself? I'll wash myself before we get in the tub. Lemme know when you're done." His hands rested against Genya's hips, the soaked cloth dripping suds down his thigh. Unfamiliar tension radiated behind Genya's back, something prickling and guilty and uncomfortably welcome.
"I wouldn't be able to tell if I missed a spot," Genya offered, quick to tack on an out in case he was misreading the intent, "I can get it, though. You've been kinda rough." Cheeks immediately burning at implying something so...Sanemi was just doing his due diligence. He was making up for blinding him, clumsily, but that was all. He was making it weird. Sanemi would regret being so kind to him. At least his blindness would save him from having to see the disgust in his brother's eyes when he realized what their time apart had warped his love into, and what this dependency had stoked. The sudsy rag slowly, carefully tracked from his hip to his stomach, hot breath blowing across the drying hair at the back of his neck.
"I'll be gentle," Sanemi said into his nape, "I can. I can do that." The urge to question whether Sanemi actually could be gentle was roundly quashed by his large hand skirting the sensitive skin of his groin through the thin cloth of the washrag, fingertips pushing into the space where groin and thigh met. He hadn't misread at all. That fraternal longing had warped in Sanemi, too, a mirror image of the want inside his own chest. Sanemi's bare chest pressed against his back, dry skin on wet.
As strange as it felt not to reciprocate, Genya couldn't think of anything to do with his hands besides not-so-subtly guide his brother's. Bottom lip trapped between nervously nibbling teeth, he covered Sanemi's hand with his own and gingerly squeezed, urging him to touch the place even he'd only rarely thought to play with. Sanemi obliged, cupping his hand over Genya's half-hard dick and the plump swell of his balls, slowly rubbing through the cloth. His brother's other hand disappeared from his hip, but the occasional bump of knuckles against the small of his back told him exactly what he needed to know.
"'Nemi, could you...?" Genya whispered, shuffling his legs further apart and leaning into the warmth at his back. The cloth hit the tile with a soft slap, leaving bare fingers behind to hold and fondle as they pleased. Chapped lips met the side of his neck as calloused fingers wrapped around his length not quite tightly enough, painstakingly dragging from root to tip until he was hard and could feel pre wetting the glans when a finger would swipe across it. A hot, wet tongue lapped against the skin behind his ear, laving up the shell as the fingers curled tighter around his shaft.
"You like that?" Sanemi breathed, "Talk to me." His knuckles bumped Genya's back again and again, occasional smears of wetness leaving warm spots behind. Being unable to see forced him to focus on his other senses: the scent of soap, the slick sounds of his hands and the lust-broken rasp of his voice, and the faint tang of iron in his mouth.
"Yeah," Genya gulped, shifting as if hoping to buck into the fist massaging leisurely up and down his cock, "Yeah, please. P-..More, please, 'Nemi?" The crack of his voice must have set something off in his brother, because suddenly his fist was almost unpleasantly tight and his wrist worked him with quick, precise flicks, mirrored in the equally fast and rough bump of knuckles against his back and the gut-wrenching moan in his ear that turned into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss against the column of his neck.
As much as Genya squeaked and writhed in the face of the overwhelming almost-pain pleasure, Sanemi refused to let up. Even when he reached back, grabbed a fistful of fluffy white hair and pulled, Sanemi only groaned and tested the edges of his teeth against his little brother's skin. Excitement teetered on the brink of fear as heat needled at his groin, the overwhelming helplessness of it all suffocating him, muscles trembling with the terrible need to flee, to take control, to fight, to submit. Sanemi's teeth began to sink in.
"Ah--Wwwait, Sane-nii, 'Nemi, hurts, it-" Genya garbled, muscles in his thighs jumping and twitching at the sensory overload, the hand not currently tangled in hair balling into a white-knuckled fist at his side uselessly. "Sa-ssa-Sane--mmi?" Licking his lips, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it, lifting his fist to his face to bite his knuckles, curling his toes, nothing relieved the bizarre tension building inside him unlike anything he'd felt before. He'd never felt this way, not even the few times he'd done it himself, it was like a whole new first time.
A sharp stab of pain lanced through his neck as the teeth broke skin, the tiny pop deafening to his ringing ears, whole body convulsing as the tension snapped and unwound with throbbing torrents of pleasure-pain. Hot, sticky cum spurted across his spine as Sanemi groaned long and low into him, squeezing and massaging just below his glans until Genya had to slap his wrist to get him to ease back off into tender, gentle strokes. The world seemed upside-down somehow, his ears were ringing, his neck hurt like hell, and nausea roiled low in his gut. Still, his mind was steeped in satisfaction and embers of excitement still crackled with each exhausted hum into his throat.
"'Nemi...You really weren't gentle at all..." Genya grumbled, giving his hair another weak tug. He winced as Sanemi worked his teeth out of his neck and licked the bloody wound.
"Ah, shit, my bad," Sanemi said unconvincingly, dragging his tongue over his teeth, "I'll be more careful next time. We've got the rest of our lives, right? And I gotta take care of you from now on anyway." He pressed a kiss to Genya's temple, then grinned specifically so that Genya could feel it against his skin. "In that way too, obviously."
"Ugh."
"C'mon, be grateful," Sanemi commanded, "I made you cum your brains out, asshole."
"It seriously hurt."
"Alright, fine, I'm sorry," Sanemi sighed and picked the washrag up again, cleaning off the streak of cum sluggishly running back down Genya's spine. His knees popped as he got up and picked up a second bucket of water to rinse his younger brother off. "And uh, with the eye thing. We're even now. Just stay here."
Genya shivered and turned his face toward his brother.
"Please?"
"Okay," Genya agreed.