Work Text:
The first time Colt gets inside of Ryland, he cries.
Not ugly-crying, not sobbing, just… He’s biting his lip, eyes wide and shiny, and the moment he bottoms out and his hips meet Ryland’s, the shininess blooms into tears too heavy for his lashes to hold.
Two tracks of wetness carve down his flushed cheeks, soak into his beard. Colt doesn’t even seem to notice them. Ryland reaches up and cups his cheeks, brushes away the following few tears as Colt blinks.
There’s a soupy, sort of elated feeling building in Ryland’s chest. Some mixture of absolute adoration and suffocating endearment. He brings Colt closer, smiles at his wide puppy dog eyes and the way he’s holding himself so carefully still so as to not move before Ryland gives the ‘okay.’
“Colt?” Ryland murmurs. And though he has an idea, he asks anyways, “What’s wrong?”
Immediately and as expected, Colt says, “Nothin’,” followed by a stuttered inhale. It’s adorable how far gone he already looks, staring down at Ryland like nothing else in the world exists except the two of them.
Ryland merely gazes back at him, soaking in his brother’s open vulnerability, the expression on his face that means his walls have broken completely down. What Ryland is seeing is the very squishy core of him.
The one with his heart on his sleeve, who’s crying just at entering Ryland. Not because he’s sad, but because—
“‘s’just,” Colt whispers, close enough for their breaths to intermingle, “a lot.” Another tear drips from his eye, lands on Ryland’s cheek. “‘m happy.”
—he’s happy.
Ryland’s smile widens. He feels his eyes crease with it, this ballooning, burgeoning feeling of warmth and light filling his chest.
Colt whimpers. His hips give a helpless little restless twitch, grinding up against Ryland’s walls, and Ryland makes a stilted sound as a shiver of pleasure races up his spine. Colt dips his head and kisses his own tear off Ryland’s cheek in apology.
He continues down, burying his face in the crook of Ryland’s neck. Ryland relocates his hands to Colt’s shoulders and hugs him close, legs hitched up on his waist and Colt’s strong arms caging him in.
Ryland can hear him trying to swallow back the tears. Trying to strangle the noises and compose himself. “I’m happy,” Colt repeats, muffled. “It’s happy tears. They’re good.” His back jumps with his inhale. “‘m sorry.”
“I know, Colt,” Ryland soothes. He slides a hand to Colt’s nape, up into his hair, cradling the back of his head. “It’s okay.”
Colt shudders and makes a low, helpless sound. Ryland both feels and hears the subsequent pitter of teardrops hitting his skin. Colt tilts his head and doesn’t really kiss Ryland’s skin so much as he just rests his lips there, parted and panting as he cries. But it’s nice. Soft and warm.
The sentiment carries either way. Ryland has to blink back the reflexive heat building behind his own eyes, ever attuned to his twin’s emotions.
“You can move if you want,” Ryland gently suggests when Colt’s shoulders start trembling.
He hiccups. “Can I?”
Ryland hitches his legs higher, and they both suck in a sharp breath when it shifts Colt inside of him. “Yeah,” Ryland breathes. Starts petting the back of Colt’s head. “You’re okay. Go ahead.”
Colt whines and obeys.
He’s so slow, achingly gentle, shaking as he pulls out and slowly pushes back in. Once, twice, three times, gaining confidence and steadiness with each one. The copious amount of lube and Colt’s prior dedicated stretching makes the glide smooth, but Ryland still feels every inch as it drags against his walls.
The pillow under his hips was a nice touch. Colt, despite initially being so excited his hands were shaking, was so careful with Ryland. He wanted everything to be as comfortable and painless as possible.
Ryland’s head falls back with a soft noise. He’s still cradling Colt to him, still holding him as he sniffles and trembles while filling Ryland up. Still feeling that love and adoration build and build and build; the overwhelming fondness for everything his brother is.
This absolute sweetheart, the beautiful idiot that he is.
Ryland loves him so much.
Colt’s next thrust is faster, chased by a whimper. He shudders like he’s settling into his skin, trying to calibrate his pace while processing his emotions. Trying to contain them.
Ryland just wants him to let go of it all. Let it fall away, let it be just them; their bodies and this moment and the vulnerability of it all.
Ryland himself is already scraped open, baring his most sensitive and private parts for Colt to see. This aching hole of him steadily being filled with Colt’s touch, with the heat and closeness and tenderness of him.
Ryland’s fingers dig into Colt’s shoulder. The muscle shifts under his grip, a tactile ripple of strength that Colt’s instead using to cradle Ryland close. Like he’s something precious to be held. As if his biceps aren’t the size of Ryland’s thigh.
God, it’s dizzying every time he’s reminded. Ryland moans, something soft and low in his throat.
Colt’s mouth promptly drops open against Ryland’s neck at the sound, a hot gasp of air followed by another whine. He’s still crying, wetting Ryland’s skin and the sheets below, small, breathy, cut-off sounds escaping him.
Colt shifts on his knees. His hand finds the side of Ryland’s head and threads careful, strong fingers through the hair there. His hips stall, only for a second as he adjusts, before he’s promptly speeding up the pace, and the next meeting of their hips makes an audible smack.
It’s not rough, not frenzied. Just steadier. More assured. Clearly spurred on by Ryland’s moan, Colt desperate for more sounds like a deserted man thirsts for water.
Ryland’s gut clenches, a hot, sizzling feeling settling down low and gradually making its way up his veins with every push of Colt’s cock into him.
“That’s good,” Ryland tells him on a hitched breath. The next thrust jolts him, makes his own cock drool onto his stomach. “Feels good, Colt. Don’t stop.”
Colt’s next cry is particularly loud. Still muffled, but high-pitched. Keening. He gasps wetly and his hips buck.
Of course, Ryland thinks with utter fondness, and then moans a breathy ah right into Colt’s ear. Praise.
He can do that.
“God, just like that,” Ryland groans. He means it, but he still sounds ridiculous to his own ears. The thought is quickly chased away by Colt’s loud, wavering moan.
When he subsequently speeds up, Ryland encourages, “Go on, come on. You’re good at this, huh? Ah— All that muscle’s for a good reason. You’re—” Colt gives a particularly spirited thrust, and it sends a white-hot jolt of pleasure that Ryland feels up to his teeth. “—Ngh! Perfect.”
Colt half-sobs, half-moans his name. An overwhelmed cry of, “Ryland!” His hips stutter to match, but quickly return to pace with a renewed enthusiasm.
Ryland moans right back. “That’s it. Nnh—” He tangles his fingers in Colt’s hair, a grip of helpless pleasure. All of him tightens in response to the tingle in his spine, the frantic throbbing heat of Colt inside of him.
Ryland thinks his nails are digging crescent-shaped indents into Colt’s shoulder by now. Probably stinging his scalp too, but Colt’s starting to fuck him hard enough that the bed frame is creaking. Ryland can’t possibly hope to control what his hands are doing when he’s struggling to breathe.
And still, it isn’t rough. It doesn’t hurt. Passionate, absolutely, sending heat spiraling deep into Ryland’s gut and filling his head with cotton. But not aggressive.
Colt’s chasing both their pleasure, but there’s only love and care pouring out of him. And there’s the fact that he’s actively crying.
The faster Colt thrusts, the harder he cries, it seems. He’s finally given in, surrendered himself, weeping openly into Ryland’s shoulder like the praise cracked him open.
Ryland just holds him as tight as he can. Gives up on trying to control his own sounds and moans with every thrust because Colt clearly craves them; the noises, the confirmation that he’s making Ryland feel good.
Then there’s two thrusts, three, that each hit deep inside Ryland, the spot that makes his entire nervous system jump and sends sparks popping behind his eyes as they squeeze shut. Ryland’s resulting moans are much louder. Shameless.
“Colt, Colt,” he moans hurriedly, pitched higher in his throat, but Colt’s already noticed. Already adjusted his hips for it. He even works a hand under Ryland to lift his hips slightly off the pillow and change the angle, easily holding the weight, aiming for that spot as often as he can.
And often it is. Ryland has half a mind to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle himself, but he doesn’t think he has the will or brain power to move his arms.
Especially not when Colt’s hiccupping through his own sounds, keens and whimpers and moans that almost sound pained.
Ryland wants to keep him held close, wants to soak in those uncontrolled sounds of pleasure from this man who’s so emotionally overwhelmed that he’s crying.
Ryland’s man. His twin brother. His.
It’s good. Incredible, actually. Colt’s good. He’s—
“So fucking good,” Ryland gasps.
Colt makes a frantic, wrecked sound. Some cross between a moan, a groan, and a whimper. It makes Ryland feel lightheaded. Or maybe that’s because his next few breaths are fucked out of him.
Colt abruptly pulls away from Ryland’s neck, pushing himself up. Ryland opens his eyes with a confused sound and gets the first good look at his brother since this started. And boy, is it a look.
Colt’s eyes are lidded, red-rimmed and dark, pupils eclipsing and swallowing his irises. There’s a shine to the black-and-blue, the same wetness that’s clumping his lashes together and dripping down his flushed cheeks. His mouth is stuck open in a perpetual gasp, pants and moans flowing freely from it. His blond hair is half slicked to his forehead from sweat and half sticking up.
He’s so handsome that Ryland’s chest starts to hurt.
If Ryland wasn’t already well on the way to an incredible orgasm, Colt’s expression alone would have turned him on. He looks lust-drunk. But not lost in it. No, he’s still in there, the Colt that Ryland adores.
In fact, he’s looking right at Ryland with a deep, deep devotion in his eyes that makes Ryland’s heart send a stuttered pulse throughout his entire body. He clenches around the length inside him.
“Oh god,” Colt chokes out. Ryland watches his expression screw up, brows twisting with pleasure. “I’m not gonna— Oh god.”
Ryland cradles his brother’s face again, struggling to keep his eyes open as Colt’s hips keep on pistoning into him, relentless with the pursuit of their mutual pleasure. He digs his heel into the nearest part of Colt it can reach, trying to brace against the pleasure filling him up. He would be arching with it if he was capable.
“You’re doing s-so good,” Ryland praises, panting. “It’s okay.” His lashes flutter as his head tips to the side with a moan that feels like it was punched out of him. Ryland’s dirty talk wasn’t a lie; Colt’s incredible at this.
Colt whimpers, long and broken. “You sound so hot. God, you’re—” A breathy moan, a gasp, “so beautiful. Ry, baby—”
Baby.
Oh. Ryland likes that.
“Yeah?” Ryland licks his lips, watches Colt’s eyes dart to track the movement. “You sound hot, too.” Colt predictably moans, and Ryland nods, trying to speak as his brain cells are actively being scrambled. “Uh huh, like that.”
Every couple words are interrupted by a thrust that steals his breath, but he can’t stop now. “You’re treating me so well, Colt. You feel incredible. So big. Never want you to stop, want you to- to stay inside me forever.” He moans a quick succession of ah ah ahs. “C-Call me baby again.”
“I—” Colt takes a violent, shuddering breath. He’s crying full-force again. His hips are an absolute riot, slamming into Ryland’s own and driving his cock so deep Ryland feels it in his throat.
He hopes that space inside of him stays carved in Colt’s shape forever.
“Baby,” Colt keens. His cock pulses, ricochets between their matching heartbeats pressed so close together. “Ryland, baby, holy fuck.”
Ryland doesn’t bother wiping away the tears this time when he tugs Colt’s head down. He just swallows the next shaky sound with an open-mouthed kiss.
Colt groans into it, their tongues meeting wet and hot, sharing breaths and moans until—
There’s that spot again, over and over, until Ryland’s moaning too much to kiss back. His face is wet from Colt’s tears, and he promptly actually chokes when Colt’s tongue drags up his cheek to collect them. It ends with them swapping spit again, the taste saline-salty. Ryland will really never get tired of kissing his brother.
His moans climb up octave by octave, and then Ryland’s clinging onto Colt’s hair in a desperate attempt at stability. At holding onto something as the heat in his gut manifests into that unfamiliar but anticipated coil. Bubbling and boiling and sending his blood rushing and his ass clenching around Colt.
He feels like he’s burning up in the best way possible, a free-fall where nothing but Colt’s strong, protective arms await him.
“I’m—” Ryland gasps, and Colt’s eyes widen, his large hand immediately flying down to wrap a fist around Ryland's cock and begin frantically pumping.
He has to shift his weight, let go of Ryland’s hips to use his dominant hand, but it could not matter less right now.
Ryland shouts at the sudden increase of stimulation. He hadn’t really been focused on his own cock when he was busy being overwhelmed by Colt’s, but now that it’s being given attention he realizes just how close he actually is. His toes curl, fingers twisting in the strands they’re tangled in and tugging; all of him seems to tighten.
Colt gathers the copious pre with the next stroke and Ryland’s body sets ablaze. It fills up his chest, spreads out to his limbs in a chain reaction of heat that Colt’s pumping hips only exacerbate.
He’s clearly trying to sync the movements. He’s also utterly failing. For some reason, that makes it so much hotter.
Colt’s desperate, feverish voice breaks through Ryland’s near-delirium. Begging, “Come on, come on. Come on Ry, baby, come for me. I’ll—” A choked gasp of a moan. “Please? Please, baby, I’ll be good. I’ve been so good. Please please—”
Colt tightens his fist, hits dead center on Ryland’s prostate, and with a twist of his wrist, Ryland sobs out a sound of delirious pleasure as he crests the edge. Colt’s name is probably tangled up in there somewhere.
Ryland writhes as he comes, tightening up like a vice around the cock inside of him, clamping Colt between his legs even as his brother continues to pound into him.
He pulses in Colt’s grip, scrabbling at any part of the man he can reach while his cock spurts ropes of cum across his own torso. Ryland feels wetness hit all the way to his collarbone.
It’s all scorching, white-hot heat. An utter bliss that robs him of breath and any and all higher thought. Functioning, too. He’s probably making a lot of noise, but Ryland can’t hear a thing over the ringing whine building in his ears.
Or maybe that’s Colt, fucking him sloppily through his orgasm while he rapidly nears his own.
Ryland catches scraps of words in brief flashes of awareness beyond the static buzzing under his skin. “Fuck,” and “Ryland,” and “Gonna,” and then, in full clarity:
“I love you!”
Colt follows him over the edge. He slams balls deep when he comes with a sharp cry, his moan long and drawn-out, stuttering occasionally with each uncontrollable jerk of his hips prolonging the orgasm. A thick heat floods and scorches Ryland from the inside out all over again.
He stops being able to feel his limbs.
Ryland doesn’t know how much time has passed when awareness bleeds back in, but the next thing he feels is the dearly familiar weight of his brother. Who is currently collapsed on top of his chest, holding himself up enough so Ryland can breathe.
Ryland wraps his arms around Colt’s back, palms flattening to the warm, sweaty skin. He feels pleasantly floaty and loose-limbed, satisfied bone-deep.
Ryland tilts his chin down to kiss the top of Colt’s head. It’s slightly damp, but he doesn’t mind.
“I love you too,” he murmurs.
Colt’s got his arms around Ryland’s waist, squeezing with a tired, happy sound. If Ryland feels wrung dry, Colt must feel like he got hit by a truck, with all the crying he was doing.
And he would know exactly what that feels like.
Ryland starts petting Colt’s back, down his shoulder blades and back up, feeling the rise and fall of them synced to his deep breaths. Ryland feels surprisingly clean when he takes stock of his body. Colt must’ve done a perfunctory wipe down after he pulled out, just the basest necessity required for their comfort. The poor sheets…
“You’re heavy,” Ryland says, with utter contentment in his voice. Colt goes mmmph. Ryland smiles. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Colt’s voice is gravely, a gentle rumble that feels like a purr against Ryland’s chest. He inhales deep, nudges his head under Ryland’s chin. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah,” Ryland echoes, and says nothing else. They slot back into their skin together, pressed as close as they can get.
Ryland feels a minute or two away from sleep. He imagines Colt isn’t far behind, if he isn’t asleep already. The air conditioning sputters on, cars drive by outside, and a distant honk or two blares farther into the city.
The intermingling sounds of people living their lives. It’s a comforting hum, familiar and grounding. Ryland starts tracing absentminded shapes into Colt’s back. Not really controlling it, just letting his hand move as it pleases.
Finally, Colt pushes himself up to his elbows. He looks like a ruffled puppy, all fluffy hair and happy eyes. He’s smiling sheepishly.
“We, uh…” Colt starts, then trails off. He clears his throat when Ryland raises an amused brow. “We don’t have to talk about the whole crying thing, do we?”
Ryland grins. “No, we don’t,” he says. Laughs softly. “But it was really sweet.”
Colt hangs his head and groans, embarrassed. “I just got emotional,” he mutters. Ryland scratches the scruffy hair at his nape. “Mmm…”
“I know,” Ryland assures. He gently urges Colt’s head back up. Colt’s pouting when he meets Ryland’s eyes, cheeks still flushed red. Ryland leans in and kisses his forehead. “I liked it.”
Colt grumbles an incoherent sound, some vague mix of pleased and disgruntled. Ryland drops back down onto the pillow, sighing happily.
He wants to melt into this mattress, become one with the bedding and with his brother on top of him.
But…
“Should we shower?”
It takes a moment for Colt to respond. When Ryland checks his expression, he sees his brother gazing at him with a devastating softness on his face.
Ryland’s heart still manages to give a fluttering thump, as if they didn’t literally just have sex.
He nudges Colt with his knee, whatever part of him it can reach. A thigh maybe. “Colt. Shower?”
Colt blinks, processes Ryland’s words, and groans. “Yeah. Probably.” His expression twists, and then he promptly drops his full weight onto Ryland.
Ryland makes an oof on impact and wheezes, smacking at his brother’s broad back. Colt’s arms snake more firmly around his waist, his hold shifting, steadying. He adjusts his weight to his lower half.
Ryland freezes.
“Colt,” he warns. Colt’s hold just tightens. “Colt. You are not going to carry me.”
Colt huffs into Ryland’s skin, pulls back with a smug smile, and promptly shoves them both from the bed in one movement, Ryland securely in his arms.
It’s instinct alone that has Ryland’s legs wrapping around his waist even as he yelps indignantly. Colt hoists him more firmly in his grip, his hands dropping low, and Ryland’s arms fly to his shoulders.
“The thing is,” Colt says as he walks them out of the bedroom, “I totally am.”
Ryland wiggles around a bit. Not really on purpose or to achieve anything, it’s just— “Colt, you– came inside me! Why did you have to pick me up like this?!”
Colt wheezes a laugh like that isn’t a perfectly valid point. “Guess we’d better hurry, then.”
“I am a fully grown man,” Ryland protests. “I can walk! That would be faster!” He pointedly does not mention the fact that he's pretty sure he'd limp if he walked.
Colt makes an exaggerated unsure noise. “I dunno…” He laughs again, fuller. “Won’t you let me pamper you?”
Colt nudges the bathroom door open with his hip, kicks it shut behind them, then tilts his head to smile adoringly up at Ryland. “Come on, Ry.”
Ryland is genuinely offended that Colt has the audacity to make that expression at him right now. The one that softens Ryland from head to toe and melts his insides to goo. Colt looks rumpled and messy in a distinctly post-sex way, flushed skin and sweat and corded muscles, but he’s… he’s cute.
It’s endlessly infuriating.
Ryland grips him by both sides of his head and kisses him quiet. Colt makes a happy hum of a noise against Ryland’s lips, immediately kissing back. It’s nice, unhurried.
Colt’s fingers dig into his lower back with his shifting grip, dangerously close to his ass. Ryland isn’t worried one bit about whether Colt can hold his weight or not. He knows he can.
Colt blindly walks them forwards, steps over the tub into the shower, and presses Ryland against the tile. Ryland shivers at the cold temperature against his heated skin, an involuntary noise subsequently muffled against Colt’s lips.
When he pulls back, Colt chases him, but Ryland forces his head still.
“Colt,” he says, and waits for Colt to properly meet his eyes. “As much as I love you, I’ve had enough of your dick tonight. Please put me down.”
Colt frowns. Seems to only then realize their position and that, yes, their hips are very close and it is uncomfortable. And that, oh yeah, Ryland told him he came inside and yes, gravity will do its thing regardless of what they want.
Besides, even if it was more of a turn-on than it was uncomfortable, neither of them are young enough to indulge in anything more. At least not very successfully.
“Oh,” Colt says quietly, and gives a small nod. Ryland is carefully set on his feet, Colt’s arms falling to his waist to steady him.
Ryland allows it, because it is rapidly becoming colder and colder the longer they stand naked in here. “Also, when you turn that knob, we are both going to be blasted with freezing cold water.” He clicks his tongue. “So…”
“I’ll protect you from it,” Colt immediately says, and then immediately looks mortified at his own words. Before Ryland can do anything more than slowly raise his brows, Colt averts his gaze and coughs. “I, uh, I’m realizing that,” he corrects himself.
Ryland wants very badly to laugh at Colt’s expression right now, the genuine embarrassed cringe on his face. He feels it build in his chest, get trapped in his throat, but he presses his lips together to stop it.
For once, Ryland chooses to spare his brother.
Instead, he turns Colt’s face back to him and kisses him again, short and sweet. “Come on. I’m tired, let’s get this over with.”
With half his face hidden behind his hand, Colt steps out of the shower with him, and they are safely away from the spray when it turns on.
It’s quick to warm up, and then Colt’s smiling dopily while Ryland shampoos his hair, refusing to close his eyes like any normal person would because he lives for danger and enjoys being obstinate.
Ryland’s yawns are jaw-creaking and full body by the time they’re clean and hydrated, stumbling into boxers and flopping onto the clean(er) side of the bed.
Ryland curls into his brother’s chest, and a heavy arm is slung over his waist. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in a year.
He’s asleep within minutes.
Right before he tips over into unconsciousness, Ryland feels a gentle pressure against his forehead. Then a soft, tender whisper of, “Thank you.”
The next words are lost on him, and he doesn’t remember them in the morning, but the content, warm feeling spreading throughout his body in response follows him down into his dreams.