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“C’mon, geddit off, Mattie, c’mon…”
Matthew groans, batting his brother’s hands away from the buttons of his dress shirt.
“Can’t you be patient for a second? Sheesh.”
Alfred pouts, looking like a kicked puppy, but Matthew just ignores him, taking his tie off to lay it over the desk he is seated on, moving to his white shirt, smirking as he looks right into Alfred’s baby blue eyes, unbuttoning himself with tantalizingly slow movements, moving his foot between the American’s legs to push against his cock to keep him from approaching.
“Tut tut,” he says, taking a factice sweet smile, looking innocent enough to almost fool his brother. “Be patient, baby.”
“You’re the baby,” Alfred grunts, rutting against his foot.
That idiot was already hard, Matthew thinks with a giggle, folding his shirt over his chest, letting Alfred only catch the faintest sliver of pink lace behind it before he puts it down beside them. His breasts are trapped behind the flamingo-pink bra, barely over a B-cup even now, Matthew going as far as the gently push them up to tease his brother.
“Well, you’re the hungry baby at the moment,” Matthew teases again, unclasping the bra to let the two firms lumps fall out of it. It’s amazing what the right diet and the right workout did to make them look more feminine than two sad, fat man boobs. Matt stands up, sitting on Alfred’s laps to pull him a little closer, yelping as Alfred pushes his face against his chest, latching right away, like he had been starving.
Matthew loves to feel his hard cock against his crotch, the feeling of it making his own stand up inside his pants. He grinds against him slowly, running his hands in Alfred’s blonde hair. Alfred always drinks just like he’d been starved, chin pushing against the pudgy breast to draw more milk out, joining his hands behind his back to keep him from going away.
It hurt at first – it apparently always does. Alfred was too enthusiastic, and he was so sensitive and still is… Matthew still isn’t sure why he accepts to go to such lengths to please his brother, but the mere thought of his brother drawing milk out of him is always enough to get him hard. He looks down to him, loving the way Alfred’s eyes are closed behind his glasses, the way his Adam’s apple bobs each time he drinks, making Matthew sigh as he traces it slowly.
“That’s it baby,” he says, running a hand on his brother’s cheeks, caressing the hollow of it tenderly. “You were hungry, weren’t you, mmh? C’mon… drink it all up.”
Alfred moans loudly around his nipple at that – his mouth opens, letting the gulp he had dribble down his chest –, thrusting up against him, hardening just from his words. Matthew smirks, knowing that in these moments, he is the one in full control of his brother, able to charm and make him do just what he wants.
In these moments, he controls him.