Chapter Text
Ultimately it's Dave's own damn fault.
He got up to take a piss, left his computer on. Locked, sure, but Bro is a master at guessing his passwords. And with the browser history for the last hour and a half not yet cleared, he's able to access all the things Dave has been looking at today. Namely the porn he's been looking at. His search for the best blow job clips the internet has to offer is glaringly obvious and although Bro is long gone by the time Dave gets back to his computer, leaving no trace of ever having been there, it isn't long before he realizes his mistake. Wondering when the strike will come leaves him on edge for the rest of the day.
He's perched on the kitchen counter and halfway through a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, a totally acceptable dinner option, when Bro's steady gaze finally starts to freak him out. Even with the sunglasses on Dave can usually tell when his brother is watching him, and after several minutes of constant staring from across the kitchen, it starts to bother him.
He stuffs another spoonful of cereal into his mouth and, all kinds of nonchalant, asks, "What?"
Because you know, it could be nothing. Sometimes Bro stares at him for no good reason. He figures it's some way of judging him, studying him for progress. Bro likes to admire his handiwork, and even if a lot of people would see that as kind of creepy, Dave is cool with it. He doesn't mind being stared at, just prefers it when he gets a hint as to what his Bro is thinking as he does so.
Bro doesn't answer him, but his expression shifts just slightly. The left corner of his mouth quirks up and he leans forward, resting his forearms on the kitchen counter.
Dave swallows and dips his spoon into the cereal bowl again, drudging up the bits at the bottom that have already gone soggy. He pops them into his mouth and pauses, spoon still caught between his lips. If he didn't know any better he'd say that Bro's stare is directed at his mouth.
He quirks an eyebrow over his shades, pulls the spoon out from between his lips and oh god- oh god he really is staring at his mouth. Is there something on it? Is he bleeding? Does he look stupid? Or- fuck. Fuck, he gets it now. He feels his cheeks heat up slightly at the realization.
He tries to ignore it because it's a weirder thing than usual, looks down at his cereal and picks up his pace, shoveling the food into his mouth with as much grace as is required to maintain coolness, just wanting to get out of the kitchen because dammit, he thinks he knows where this is going and he's really not sure how to feel about that.
Bro leans further across the counter, staring him right in the eyes, daring him to leave. Dave can't move. He just stares back, holds his breath, waits for Bro to make his move.
He doesn't. He lets Dave stew in his own anxiety, keeps right on staring as Dave grabs his cereal bowl and tips it back to suck down the chocolate milk at the bottom. The empty bowl gets dropped onto the counter with a clatter and Dave is ready to bolt. But Bro is faster, always faster, and before Dave can so much as get his feet on the floor, Bro's hand is on his face, thumb and forefinger clasping his jaw tight.
Dave's breath hitches and his cheeks tinge pink as those fingers move, thumb slipping under his chin, tipping his head up so Dave can't possibly look away. Two fingers slide over his lower lip, pressing almost threateningly.
"...Bro?" He tries to keep his cool. He tries to stay absolutely chill and not at all freaked out by the implications of what his bro is doing.
Bro full out smirks, putting every ounce of douchebaggery possible into the expression as he purposefully jerks the crappy countertop, making Dave gasp lightly- those fingers slip right into Dave's open mouth, pressing down flat on his tongue.
Saying what the fuck would absolutely not fly in this situation. Demanding an explanation is totally out of the question. Dave just has to accept his fate, roll with this, submit. He closes his mouth around Bro's fingers, staring up defiantly. He can handle this.
Bro's eyebrows raise ever so slightly- is Dave asking for a fight here? Because Bro isn't afraid to fuck him up.
Dave is terrified. He keeps a straight face, doesn't move an inch.
Bro's fingers twist in his mouth, tracing the edges of his tongue. Dave waits as long as he can before he finally swallows, as carefully as possible. It's awkward, so awkward, but neither of them is going to back down. Bro is teaching him a lesson in protecting his privacy and Dave has to take it, can't break under the pressure of Bro's expectations.
"What're you thinking, Dave?"
Bro speaks softly, smugly, withdraws his fingers just enough to let his brother answer.
"Not much." Bro's fingers tickle slightly against his lower lip and he compulsively runs his tongue over them, immediately wishes he could take it back.
Bro drags the tips of his fingers over Dave's lip, watches the beginnings of a shudder that gets repressed with the blink of an eye.
"Got some curiosities buggin' you, bro?"
Dave's face goes hotter at the question but he doesn't answer, holds his ground. He pretends like he didn't just let his mouth fall open as an invitation for Bro's fingers to sneak back inside. He's kind of ashamed, even though he knows this is all natural bullshit to be running through his head. Teenage boys watch porn. It's pretty much a rule. But his bro's teasing makes him feel like the sickest freak on the planet, makes him want to crawl into a hole and stay there until all this totally uncool sexual interest passes. And then there's the matter of the fact that it's Bro and, well, he doesn't even want to try to wrap his brain around that one. He tries to frown, probably ends up looking like a pouty dumbass.
Bro smiles wider, "You mad?"
Ironically referencing an internet meme... the magnificent bastard. It's a low blow.
Dave licks the very tips of Bro's fingers, doesn't flinch.
But then Bro takes one arm of Dave's shades between two fingers of his free hand, tips them up smoothly enough that they don't even bump against his forehead. Red eyes widen in surprise and while he's stunned, Bro's fingers take advantage. They slip into Dave's mouth again, over his tongue, all the way to the knuckle so Dave nearly gags and the leather of fingerless gloves scratches his skin lightly.
Then out they slide again, far enough forward to bump nails against Dave's front teeth before delving back in. A slow rhythm starts up and it takes a minute for Dave to realize that Bro is honest to god fucking his mouth with his fingers.
There is nothing in the world that could make this right.
Then again, there is nothing in the world that could kill the erection he's sporting right now.
He tenses, bracing himself as Bro's fingers slip in and out of his mouth, tries to work his lips and tongue in an appropriate manner but he doesn't really know what he's doing. More than once his teeth scrape Bro's skin and he averts his eyes, feeling like the biggest fucking loser in the world. Without his shades he can't hide the way his eyelids get heavy when he concentrates hard, can't conceal even a little bit of the flush that rises in his cheeks as he experiments, bobbing his head. He grips the edge of the counter, unsure of what to do with his hands for all of this.
Bro smirks down at him and tips his head further back, making Dave strain to work his mouth properly. He ignores the slightly irritated look Dave shoots him, withdraws his fingers entirely and listens to Dave's heavy breathing for a moment before slipping them back into his mouth, snaking his ring finger in for good measure.
Dave feels embarrassingly exposed, unsure of where to look without his shades to protect him. He sucks, swallows, gags a little, coughs and blushes right down to his neck at the way Bro looks at him. So, so intently, like he's waiting for something.
"Show me what the girls you were watching do, Dave."
And Dave gives him a 'seriously, what the fuck?' look because dammit, he's already trying to deepthroat his fingers here.
Bro shakes his head, taps the middle finger of his free hand against Dave's throat. And somehow, Dave gets it.
He wants to melt into the floor for having to do it, but he gets it.
Dave bathes Bro's fingers with his tongue and moans, moans like a whore. Like a goddamn classically trained porn star doing the best work of her career. He should get awards for this, an Oscar, except he's hardly acting. He whimpers, shifts on the counter, tries not to draw attention to the tented fabric of his jeans. He shoots Bro a desperate, wanton look because he figures he wants him to, and everything seems to be going well.
Until he reaches out a hand to grasp Bro's wrist, taking the initiative and leaning forward in his seat, sucking his brother's fingers like the fucking elixir of life is coating his skin.
Then, then Bro pulls his hand away.
Dave is left in the lurch, mouth hanging slightly open, hot and breathing hard and sweet jesus, did he seriously drool on himself? There's a slick sheen of spit over his lip, down part of his chin and he sits back fast, wiping it away with a swipe of his sleeve.
He tips his head forward and his shades fall back into place smooth as silk, sit on the bridge of his nose like they were made to be there.
He glances back up at Bro, meeting a passive gaze. He wants to slap himself for it but all he can think is that he hopes he did a good job. He hatehatehates screwing up in front of the coolest guy in the world.
Bro doesn't say a word. He plops his hand down on Dave's head, ruffles his hair with fingers still covered in saliva, then turns and walks away.
He's down the hall before Dave even remembers to breathe.
He leans back on the countertop, shutting his eyes tight to keep from thinking too much, to ignore the nagging, aching hardness pressing against the seam in the crotch of his jeans.
He realizes he should have glanced down for once, seen if Bro was in the same predicament. Realizes he missed an opportunity, that Bro knows it too and won't let him forget any time soon.
"Fuck."