Work Text:
The sound of the door opening isn’t what wakes Saxon, but it’s certainly what brings him out of a dreamlike haze in which he’s still present. He doesn’t need to turn to look at who it is or what’s happening, of course it's Lochlan, walking softly around, making his presence almost imperceptible.
But it wasn’t imperceptible to Saxon, not before and especially not now, not after Thailand.
Saxon has been painfully aware of Loch’s moves since then, every glance that meets his and needs to be averted, every move made in his direction. Saxon needs to be away from him, but he misses him. So Saxon turns away, doesn’t start conversations, doesn’t continue them, yet Lochlan still follows him around like a puppy, like an itch that Saxon can’t shake.
And there he is, doing what he's been doing almost once a week for six months, softly entering his room to tell him he can't sleep, only to lie down a foot away from him and have his insomnia "cured" just by his presence.
This scares the shit out of Saxon.
Lochlan lies down in silence again, Saxon's naked body doesn't shiver on the outside, just the feeling in his stomach cooling his body from the inside out. Saxon doesn't turn over, but he feels the bed move with the new weight, this time without any explanation, nothing other than the knowledge of Lochlan's need to be close to him.
"You can't keep doing this," Saxon says bitterly at bringing up *that* subject.
It's a known but unspoken fact, none of them have even tried to talk about it, not with Saxon's slippery panic and Lochlan's worrying innocence, but they know, it's there, always in the way, they avoid it and walk past it, but they never bring it up.
“I’m not doing anything,” Lochlan says, he still sounds like a child, especially now, a child caught with crayons in his hands about to scratch the walls.
Saxon couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that comes out of his mouth even if he tried, he can feel it, even from the distance and even though his body is completely turned in the opposite direction, Saxon can feel his brother’s shrug, the way he makes himself small, how his limbs curve towards the center of his body and he becomes one of the most adorable versions of “little brother” to Saxon, and it disturbs him.
They stay silent for a while, Saxon almost thinks that will be it, that they will fall asleep and let this moment pass, but Lochan doesn't get it pass. He moves in the bed, getting closer to Saxon, still not touching him, but almost, like feeling his presence on his skin.
“You still sleep naked,” Loch says, the statement makes something go up Saxon’s spine.
It's almost like an accusation, and Saxon feels ashamed just thinking about it. Yes, he always slept naked, the fact that he hadn't changed that habit after his pervert brother started coming into his room in the middle of the night to sleep with him had no hidden meaning.
"If you don't like it, you can sleep in your own room for a change," Saxon grumbled grumpily, defensive as always with everything Loch had said to him lately.
"No, I like it," Loch says, Saxon closes his eyes tightly as his heart skips a beat, dealing with the kind of answer he didn't want to hear, didn't want to think about, didn't want to have to deal with.
Saxon shakes his head in denial.
"You fucking freak," Saxon says in disgust. He feels disgusted. He feels disgust at the way Loch looks at him, he feels disgust at the memories of that damned night, he feels disgust at the part of him that insists he doesn't feel disgust, not really.
Lochlan remains silent, unaffected by the insult, perhaps he already knew the fact very well. That he was a freak, that Saxon was probably one too.
Loch places his hand on Saxon's arm, and he does nothing, doesn't pull away, doesn't complain, doesn't come closer, doesn't look at him, Saxon takes a deep breath, feeling small, vulnerable and unstable.
"Sax..." Loch says, his voice sounds like a caress and has the effect on Saxon of hot chocolate poured over ice.
And it is a mistake, a big one, but Saxon turns, heeding an unspoken request and lies on his back, where his eyes can meet those of his younger brother, his brother that he loved so much and now was afraid of.
Loch's hand lands on Saxon's bare chest, and he knows that this is no ordinary touch, it is a touch of adoration, of exploration, of worship. Saxon knows he should get out of there, push Loch away, walk away, say something, anything, but that’s not what he does. Saxon lies back, unable to move or say anything as his brother’s fascinated eyes dance over him, his hand lightly stroking his chest. And Saxon wants to die, he really does, because death would be better than the knowledge of how nice that touch can be, how tender, how strangely it makes Saxon’s entire body feel. The hand moves to Saxon’s face without the slightest warning. Their eyes lock on each other in the most vulnerable of staring contests, Saxon wants to look away, he doesn't understand, doesn't understand why Loch insists on doing this to him.
Saxon knows what's coming, he's not an idiot, not that much. Loch slowly approaches, kissing his lips, one little kiss at a time until he deepens it, and Saxon lets him. Saxon lets his little brother kiss him, lets him explore the feeling of their lips together, lets Loch put his tongue inside his mouth, he even gives him space to accommodate him. Saxon opens his mouth, touches his tongue when it touches his, he lets Loch kiss him, let him kiss him as much as he wants. Let him do whatever he wants to him.
The intimacy of it is intoxicating, knowing his brother so intimately, so deeply, so warm and nicely. Loch's hand all over his chest, touches his abdomen, exploring his body like no brother should, slowly moving his hand down to his cock, hardening it like no little brother should.
But Lochlan does, he grabs Saxon's dick and it doesn't take long for it to get hard, because Saxon's dick is like that, completely independent of what Saxon's brain tells him.
And there he was, fucking Saxon Ratliff being masturbated by his younger brother. Again. Saxon hated himself.
Saxon hated how much the feeling of Loch's erection pressing against his thigh made him moan, hated how hot it felt to have Loch grinding his dick against his thigh, humping like a puppy, fucking it like it was the only thing capable of making him cum. Loch hugs Saxon's thigh with one of his legs, giving him better access to fuck Saxon's leg. And his hand incessantly made Saxon squirm, bite his lip and hate himself more.
Because Loch's hand seemed to know him more than any other, more than his own, but after all, who could know you better than a brother?
Saxon cums embarrassingly fast at the dirty thought, Loch continues for a while, with his cute little moans that sound like Saxon's death, saying his name, Saxon hears it when he feels his brother's cum hitting his thigh.
His little brother smiles, with nothing but satisfaction on his post-orgasm face. He's beautiful, too beautiful, Saxon laments it to himself.
It doesn't take much adjustment for Loch to find a new sleeping position, he simply relaxes, approaches Saxon wrapping an arm around his body, lying with his head on Saxon's chest. He hopes Loch can't hear his heart skip a beat, because yes, his heart still skips a beat with every caress Loch gives him, every little thing, every cute shitty smile. Saxon has no fucking scape from him.
"We should do this more," Loch says in his satisfied sleepy voice.
"No!" Saxon speaks quickly, because no, it's obvious they shouldn't do this again, not again, not the first time, not the second.
Loch just looks at him and rolls his eyes, snuggling back into his chest, he knows, and Saxon knows too. When the time comes, Saxon will let Loch do whatever he wants.