Work Text:
“Show me. Show me yeah? Show me yeah? Show me. I bet it’s a fuckin trophy yeah? Just show me, come on. Show me-”
There was something about Ruben that always had Niall taking risks. Pushing both their limits just to see what bends or breaks. He knows Ruben does it too, their little tests. Petty games. Today it was him, though. It was Niall making a pregnancy announcement, like Ava’s spur of the midlife crisis IVF choice was actually the fruits of their careful family planning and Niall’s shining fertility. What a joke.
Niall dodges, swats away grabbing hands, and decides that it really wasn’t fucking worth it, just to see Ruben break for a short minute. Why did he always forget what this man was capable of? Why was the rush of the reaction, seeing Ruben slip, that burned itself into his mind and not the terror of the violence that followed?
He also decides that he’s a fucking moron in the same moment that Ruben finally gets a hold of him. His brother’s big hands wrap around him like shackles and his blood runs cold.
“Ruben, stop- fucking stop!” He needs to get inside. Needs to get away from Ruben.
He struggles but it does nothing to keep Ruben from getting him to the ground, heavy and wide along his back. His breath picks up when the man forgoes groping at him over his jeans to go for his fly instead. Ruben yanks the button loose and zipper down without fanfare. Niall thrashes, bucks, kicks back like an animal. It’s completely useless.
“Show me, show me!” Ruben’s voice shifts from manic to demanding and angry as he gets Niall’s pants down under his ass. Niall’s body trembles and it has nothing to do with the brisk night air.
“Ruben- Ruben stop! Stop!” He barks, wrecked and hoarse, but there is no one here. Ava is out, his apartment is empty, no one is coming unless a neighbor intervenes and he can’t bring himself to raise his voice loud enough to alert them.
Ruben is on top of him, curled over his back when he finally gets his hand under the hem of Niall’s briefs. He reaches, grabs, yanks and nearly pulls his packer straight out. Harsh like he intended to tear Niall’s cock clean off. They both freeze.
Ruben pants, heavy and humid against the back of his neck, then without further ceremony he neatly pulls the soft silicone cock out of Niall’s trousers and lets it fall on the ground. Niall’s stomach turns at the sight of it, grotesque in the low lamplight.
They both look at it for a beat. Then Ruben starts chuckling.
“Now what the fuck is that Niall?”
The man in question cannot answer. He is calcified, flesh made stone in his mortification.
“Don’t tell me your tadger is so small you need that thing to fill out your trousers.” He’s laughing now, hard, breathless and cruel. Sounding almost painful. More tethered to reality than his earlier frenzied rambling. Niall wants to be cut loose from this moment but he is wholly stuck right where he is, knees and forearms on cold stone, fear and shame no less heavy than the physical mass of Ruben at his back. Ruben is laughing and obviously not going to let this go.
“Ruben, get off.” He’s ignored.
“You padding your cock? Like a bird stuffing her bra? Lad, brother, you really are something,”
Shifting behind him, then breath, lips moving against his ear. “Now I really gotta see this thing.” Ruben shoves past the elastic of his briefs again and Niall takes a hitching breath, one last failed inhale before his life as he knows it ends. He asked for this. He knew better.
“What the fuck kind of tiny-“ Rough fingers skirt past his clit, the closest thing he has to the cock Ruben’s looking for, and slide into his folds. He’s wet, has been wet, and now Ruben’s fingers are in it, pressed up against him, between his lips rough and careless. They’re so thick.
Niall shudders with a moan, all fear and terrible, impossible arousal. He’s sensitive, this isn’t a place he lets anyone touch, ever. He’d tried and failed in every safe space offered. Could never overcome the innate feeling of danger, the revulsion that came with it. Now, when the danger was obvious and present there was no revulsion, only terror.
The laughing has stopped. Ruben is deathly quiet, still. Then his fingers twitch against him again.
Niall bucks with a primal sound, kicks out again and manages to hit something important, judging by the shout behind him. He crawls out from beneath Ruben, who’s curled over his own groin and groaning. Adrenalin spikes as he yanks up his bottoms and holds them as he half-climbs half-crawls up the steps, just barely making it to the door before he remembers the packer. Still on the ground in front of the flat where anyone could find it.
He’s quick. Spinning around and stumbling back down the steps to swipe it off the sidewalk, but it costs him the time he needs. He barely opens the door before he’s caught. Ruben hits him like a rouge wave, towering, powerful and wild as he shoves Niall back against the doorframe.
“Where do you think you’re going, you little rat?” Oh, he’s furious, spitting with every other word.
“Ruben, let go,” Ruben grips his arm tighter.
“You must be some sort of fucking loony still if you think you’re walking away from me just like that Niall.”
Niall can hardly parse a thought. His mind is flying in 5 different directions, drawing him taut, waiting for the weakest part of him to rip free. His eyes and lungs burn and he wants to lash out. Tear and bite and kick again. He can’t. He feels the tell-tale sting of tears.
“Ruben, let me go, right now. I- I need space,” He falls back on old lessons. Clear communication. Honesty. De-escalate. Give him time to process his thoughts and actions in a healthy way. All a bunch of contrived bullshite from a therapist who had never faced a raging bull.
The bones of his forearm feel like they’re grinding together under Ruben’s palm. The man’s eyes are wide and so, so blue.
“You’re going to explain yourself or I’m going to tear those fucking pants off you right here on the step!”
Ruben is half shouting and the volume shocks him straight into anger. The neighbors. The fucking neighbors will hear and Ruben will have ruined everything. Again. How fucking dare Ruben bring his bullshite to his door, his neighborhood? After everything Niall has done, sacrificed for this?
“Ruben!”
“Fucking explain!” Ruben jostles him and Niall shoves back as much as he can against him.
“It’s exactly what you think it was! Now fucking let go!”
Ruben somehow crowds him further against the doorframe, releases his grip on Niall’s arm to press against Niall’s windpipe instead, crushing. Shoves the other hand back down the vee of Niall’s pants.
“Wait- wait!”
Nial chokes on his own spit and scrambles, clawing at Ruben’s arms, trying to hold him off while the man breathes like a territorial ape against his face. Ruben grabs at his groin over his briefs and Niall can barely breathe, let alone speak. Plead.
“Ruben- don’t, please just-”
“Is this a fucking cunt Niall?” Jesus fuck.
“Please, I’ll explain! Just inside I, we can’t do this out here-”
He knows he’s not getting away and the panic is truly setting in. He can feel the burn of tears welling up again and braces for the spiral. Even as Ruben looks over his face and nods, takes his hand out of Niall’s pants, and pulls them through the doorway. Even as he closes the door behind them and pushes Niall against it. Looks at him long and hard.
Even as he closes his eyes, finally breaks his stare and presses his forehead to Niall’s and exhales, long and hard out his nose like he’s the one on fire. Niall’s lungs just grow tighter and tighter. Incapable of comprehending the de-escalation.
It would be grounding, the pressure along his front and back, if he had the mind to register it. But he can’t catch his breath. He tries, gasping, fighting for every bit of air. His chest is tight and limbs are cold and he looks up at Ruben, unable to say anything. Ask for help. Beg for relief as cold blues find him once more, then draw back.
He’s slapped. Almost gentle for the man, but it still sends Niall’s head to the side. His cheek stings and head pounds but his mind stops and for a moment he doesn’t breathe. There’s only shock and ungodly awe.
Ruben does. Ruben presses his nose into the crook of his exposed neck and breathes, deep. Like a stillborn calf insistently nudged by its mother, Niall inhales hard, all at once. Regains life. Follows the pattern Ruben sets against his skin. His limbs stop tingling. He finds his mind between the next slow inhale and exhale. He’s unsure how long they stand there, learning to breathe again.
Honesty. De-escalate. Give him time to process his thoughts and actions in a healthy way.
“You going to make me smack you again, Niall?” He swallows and blinks, shakes his head. He doesn’t think that he wants Ruben to slap him again.
“You’re not getting out of this, so you best settle.” Or maybe he does. He nods anyway. Still pinned flat against the cold hardwood.
“Just- Let go, please. I’ll explain.” Ruben searches his face again, then grunts. Niall is released. Authority over his own body is returned to him all at once and he’s at a loss with what to do with it.
“You try to bolt on me Bambi and I’ll make you regret it. You know that, yeah?” Ruben murmurs the warning like it’s a favor.
“Yeah, I won’t. Promise.” He means it.
Ruben grunts again and straightens up, watches Niall with lidded eyes. Waits. Letting him lead his own funeral procession, then.
“The- the sitting room. We can talk in there.” He stutters and nods towards the couches without looking away from Ruben’s face, exhales again when the man goes easily. Stopping to hang up his jacket in the entry and nudge off his boots. Casual, like he’d been invited inside. In a way he was.
He takes stock of himself before he follows. Does up his pants, kicks off his trainers, and only debates for a moment before hanging his coat up next to Ruben’s. He immediately misses its weight across his shoulders.
Ruben has made himself at home, lounging back against one loveseat and tracking Niall’s approach as he sits in the matching couch across the coffee table. Niall falls into it, tries for a respectable posture for only a moment before he slumps forward and puts his face in his palms.
He needs a drink. He needs something much stronger than a drink. A bullet, maybe. For one of them.
Ruben eventually gets tired of waiting for Niall to pull himself together.
“So. You were bullshitting? About the pregnancy, you were just trying to fuck with my head again?” Niall snaps up at the accusation, striking far too close to the truth for his safety.
“No Ruben, Jesus. She’s pregnant, she is,” Niall stutters, “I never said I knocked her up.”
Ruben tilts his head like a dog. “Got cucked?” His tone is serious but there’s humor in his gaze. Like that would be funny, getting cucked and raising another man’s child.
“No, it's not like that,” Ruben grunts again, nodding him along. “She was doing in-vitro, random donor. A late life dream, I suppose. Never thought it would actually take but… well, her family has the money.” Or maybe she just cheated, but who the fuck was he to judge. Not as if she was getting any from him. Sex or fidelity.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest.
They’re quiet for another beat.
“So,”
Niall swallows.
“So.”
“How long? The whole time?”
Niall nods, “Always. Was born like this.”
“Like what?” For fucks sake.
“With no dick, with a cunt, fuck-”
“Why?” It’s like talking to a child.
“Just. Wasn’t me. Had me in a real bad way especially once I hit puberty. Mum didn’t get it but… didn’t fight me on it either. Let me switch schools, Names.”
“So you’re a-” “Don’t.”
Something in his face, his quiet tone, must give away his seriousness, enough to make Ruben actually pause. Ruben loved, loved crossing lines. Loved when Niall set a boundary that he could prove applied to all but him. Blue eyes grow a fraction wider, considering, like it never occurred to him there may be something Niall wouldn’t forgive him for. Then peering, like he doesn’t believe it.
If Niall is being honest, deep down, he’s not certain this line would hold either.
It’s silent for a moment, then-
“Show me.” Said calmly, calculated. A distant echo of the manic, wild demands from just minutes before.
“What?”
“Drop your trousers and show me.”
“Ruben, don’t be ridiculous- there's no-” Ruben is crossing the room and Niall stands up from the couch in a panic just as he sits back down, a cushion over from where Niall had perched.
“Ridiculous? I slept next to you for years, known you for decades, and you’re hiding shite this big from me Niall? Nah son,” Ruben’s gaze bores up into him and to his horror Niall feels a stab of heat.
The backs of Niall’s knees hit the edge of the table, nowhere else to go.
“You owe me the truth for once in your goddamned life, now. Drop. Them.”
Ruben pulls him closer by the hips, something Niall’s seen him do to Mona once or twice, other women, and he tries not to think too hard about it. They’re quiet again. Niall standing above Ruben, practically between his spread legs. It’s odd, being above Ruben at this angle. Looking down at his face. The illusion of power, if you ignored the grip Ruben’s got keeping him in place.
Maybe that’s what gives him the balls to actually do it.
Without taking his eyes off Ruben’s face, he pops the button on his slacks, shakes as he unzips. Exhales. Ruben, ever helpful, breathes audibly hard through his nose and helps pull his pants down his thighs, brushing over the fine hair along them and Niall is shaking too much to even grab hold of the elastic band of his briefs. Reminded again that his packer was shoved into his jacket pocket. That Ruben had already seen it.
“Do I look like I want to be here all night? Hurry the fuck up.”
His face burns and eyes sting when he finally gets his thumbs inside the fabric. There is no power to be had here, aside from being the one to make the choice. He inhales and squeezes his eyes shut as he yanks them down, down until he feels Ruben’s fingers brush his, still resting on his thighs.
And he waits.
“Huh.”
It’s a little breathless, and Niall has no idea what to do with it. Fingers trek slowly up his legs and he shakes.
“You’ve got a cunt.”
“Yes Ruben, I’ve got a fucking cunt.” His eyes snap back open. “We’ve fucking established that I have a fucking cunt,” Ruben doesn’t meet them though, doesn’t rise to the bait. His gaze is fixed forwards, jaw clenched, breathing a little too even.
“And this?” A hand lifts and gestures, almost brushes, against his clit, his cock. The swollen mound of growth risen from his public hair.
“Thats- that’s my- it’s-“
“Your clit? Why’s it so big? Practically a shy little prick,” Gods, the conversation is surreal. He wishes he wasn’t here. He wishes he was less aroused and looked more normal. Anything to make this easier. None of this was normal. Why couldn’t they both have just been normal? He’s longing for that bullet again.
“I- It’s-”
“Out with it son, we’ve talked about this. Worry once, suffer twice.” He almost falls for the casual tone, but then Ruben looks up at him, only for a second, and Niall sees himself, the turmoil reflected back at him. Ruben’s eyes are dark.
“I was- I just had the cunt, at first. But I’m- and I - the doctors- they helped. It helped.”
“Surgery?”
“No- well yes, my chest. But it- it’s my clit. Testosterone, other stuff, over time it- its happens.”
Ruben gives him a long, slow look up and down and Niall gives himself over to examination. A hand raising to his throat, feeling for his adams apple. Sliding down, over his runaway heart to press along his shirt until he is tracing under his pec through the fabric. Thumb brushing over the scar tissue before returning home, framing his pelvis.
“This is why you were always hiding when you changed,” Ruben starts grumbling, nodding to himself. “This is why you freaked the fuck out that time I put Mona in your bed.” Niall nods, not that Ruben is looking.
“Was fucking offensive, like you thought yourself too good for my girl,” Ruben chuckles to himself and Niall wonders if he is rewriting history in his mind as he reminisces. Or if that godawful, uncomfortable month really was just a funny memory to the man. It was like Ruben had suddenly discovered an exhibitionist kink, the way he was fooling around and shagging his girls anywhere Niall tried to hide.
It bites. How many more of their memories was Ruben going to rewrite, now that he knew?
It doesn’t matter, in the end. Niall has had enough of standing around half dressed like a berk.
“What do you want, Ruben?” Thumbs rub circles into the jut of his hip bones as Ruben thinks and it’s all just too much. And as if he can sense Niall’s train of thought, Ruben’s grip on him tightens again.
“Honesty. Only asking for a bit of honesty from you shagger,”
There’s a gleam in the man’s eye, like he’s done thinking and ready to start acting. Dangerous. Familiar enough to make his flight response kick in.
Ruben must feel the tension in his legs, preparing to move away, or read it in his face because he lunges forwards. Circles one arm around Niall’s waist and pulls him off balance while the other-
“Ruben!”
It’s torn out of him like a sob as fingers slide back through the lips of his cunt. He staggers and tries to yank free and is pulled down further, pants around his knees trapping his legs and sending him into an awkward lean against Ruben’s head and shoulders.
“Shhhh Niall, we’re not done yet. Settle, settle”
A cry is wretched from him again, small and pathetic, and he digs his fingers into Ruben's shoulders.
“I said settle, Niall! Settle down, I’m just trying to understand what the fuck you have going on here.” The pads drag down, the heel of his palm pressing against his clit while the digits find and circle his opening. Fear, shame and arousal mix in him and he whimpers his weakness into Ruben’s hair. Ruben strokes along him and he burns with the terrifying revelation that it feels good.
Then Ruben’s fingers leave and grab at his twisted bottoms instead. Pulling them further off his legs. Niall’s throat starts working again with the small reprieve, summoning the will to deny this, them, even as he mindlessly lifts his heels to help Ruben strip him.
“Ruben you- you have to stop. We can’t- I’ll tell you everything but-“
Ruben growls against his collar. “No you fucking won’t, you always weasel out of the truth. I’m your fucking brother yeah? Fucking brother to a liar. Been lying since the day we met.” His breath hitches, wonders how Ruben remembered him, pictured him the few times they met as kids. If he forgot the dresses and long hair, or never registered them. If it all blurred into the present for him like it does for Niall.
His pants are gone, legs and crotch bare and he all but collapses further into Ruben’s grasp, straddling his lap. He clings to Ruben’s top, hides his face in the man’s shoulder, clawing for any scrap of stability while the man strokes up his leg and across his lower back, under the hem of his shirt.
A hand brushes inside his upper thighs and he clamps them together tight. It helps none. Ruben bullies way between his legs again and then Niall is just clamping down around his wrist, trapping Ruben’s hand there while rough fingers return to their investigation.
“Fuck, you’re wet.” He says it like a revelation, and the arm around his waist gets tighter.
“Ruben,” Someone whines in his voice, meek and pathetic, and it couldn’t have been him.
“Let go Niall, you owe me this. You’re finally being honest, yeah? So stop being a cunt about it and give in.” Ruben’s facial hair scratches his neck
He shudders, and wills his thighs to relax. He doesn’t spread them, too humiliating, but he lets Ruben do what he wants. Let him take so he can say he didn’t give.
“That’s it, just like that Bambi.” Rubens voice has gone deep, deep, with something that lulls him down. He speaks against the skin behind Niall's ear and he shudders. “Fuck. Can’t believe this whole time… no wonder you’re such an ornery bastard,” Fingers tease around the edge of his core again and he can feel his insides pulse.
“You’re all mixed up in your head and your body, yeah? All tense.” He’s rumbling almost soothingly now. Niall wants to nod. He’s really fucked in the head, and his body doesn’t help.
He wraps his arms around Ruben’s shoulders in full, presses his face against his sweaty neck.
“Fuckin massive clit, but you still feel small here ey?”
Then fingers push in and he reflexively cringes away, but Ruben doesn’t give an inch, pressing deeper.
He gasps, he knew it would be different, someone else’s hand. “Ruben-“
“How many blokes have you taken here Niall? I know you used to get around,” He had, still did until very recently. The combination of testosterone and freedom had hit him like a truck. But not like that.
Ruben’s fingers crook and brush a spot almost too sensitive, and Niall bites his lip holding back the moan. “Your girlfriend got a strap? Or does she just get her dainty little fingers up in here?” Ava is not the one with the strap. Niall does not want to talk about his strap. Or the lack of sex he has with his girlfriends. Or all the time he’s spent bending men over or letting them have his mouth in public stalls.
He can hardly form thoughts as two fingers twist inside him, exploring.
Ruben prattles on, like he’s already made up his own mind.
“Nah, Nervous nelly Niall Kennedy,” Its’ like a purr, the way it vibrates out of Ruben’s chest into his. “Always fucking sanctimonious, bet you never let anyone up in here, yeah?” Ruben sounds like he’s joking but draws away to see him when Niall fails to respond. Finds his defeated red eyes and actually looks taken aback.
“Jesus Christ Bambi,” Ruben pulls Niall back into his neck, letting him hide his face there just in time to feel a groan rip out of it. Heavy with want so thick Niall can almost taste it on his skin.
“Should’ve known, should’ve fucking known…” Ruben starts thrusting the fingers in and out of Niall, scissoring and stretching him out with new purpose. Niall bears down on his hand and feels filthy.
“Ruben- I can’t,”
“Shhhhh, don’t you feel how much you need this? You’re practically soaked down here.” His digits press into the knuckle, twist, and he shudders. Crossing lines no one else had even gotten close to. Ruben always crossed lines, broke rules. Even rules that were never written for him.
He barely registers the sound of the zipper over his own moans, clinging to Ruben and riding his hand. He hears Ruben fussing with his jeans, pulling them and his boxers down below his balls. Niall tears himself from Ruben’s neck to find his cock, hard, red and straining between them.
It’s big. Thick. Proportionate to the man. His mouth reflexively waters at the sight of it, knows from practice he could swallow it. Isn’t certain how it could fit elsewhere.
Ruben releases his waist for a brief moment to pull Niall’s shirt up and off him, and just like that Niall is totally nude in his lap while he’s only bothered to pull his own cock out. Then that arm wraps right back around him and reels him in.
Niall gasps as his mouth latches into a nipple, biting, then trails down over a long scar beneath his pec. Pants and noses to the other side, three fingers in him now, undeniably working him open for something bigger. Hears Ruben murmuring to himself, cursing under his breath.
It’s addictive, Niall’s head rolls back and he grinds down against them. His hands grab and grope at a muscular back, shoulders, thread through Ruben’s hair and pull when Ruben nudges past that spot again. His blood feels thick like syrup, slowing down everything in his head and body and making it heavy.
Then Ruben pulls off and Niall is spun, pulled and pressed down onto his back against the couch. Ruben looms above him, between his legs like he has so many times before, and just like those times Niall holds his gaze and waits. For a split second all he knows is himself, his body throbbing, coiling, and Ruben’s expression, wild and intent and focused. He breaks line of sight to follow Ruben’s hand as the man spits into it and reaches down to pump himself, once, twice.
This was happening. “Ruben-” It’s cut off again, not something Ruben is interested in hearing.
“Hush, I’m taking care of you, yeah? You’re going to let me take care of you.”
Ruben doesn’t wait for a response, just pulls him the slightest bit forward and presses inside as they both watch. The thick head breaches him and Niall throws his head back, mouth agape.
There’s no lube, It’s not dry but he’s still so big. Ruben pushes into him slowly, deeper and further and Niall might think it’s for his sake if not for the look on the man’s face. Ruben’s cock presses the air out of him, like it’s taking up any space left in his chest for his lungs.
“Fuck, that’s it Bambi. That’s right. Fucking tight little cunt, sucking me in. Fucking perfect.”
The words boil him alive. Ruben setting fire to his nerves as he stretches, near tears him open, bleeds Niall out like a pig. He wants Ruben’s jeans gone, wants his shirt off, can’t take the suffocating heat inside and out.
Ruben angles his hips, brushes past that spot on the way in and Niall’s arms flail and latch awkwardly to the cushions. Watches, eyes wide as Ruben’s gaze goes unfocused the further he’s stretched. How his mouth goes lax and eyebrows furrow when Niall feels him finally bottom out. They’re both panting. Something like a smile twitches at Ruben’s lips.
“Feels so fucking good. Fucking knew you were for me, so fucking small and meek and needy. Just didn’t have all the clues to put it together, yeah?”
“I wasn’t- fuck!”
Ruben moves, draws back out, slow and torturous, then fucks back into him all at once. He moans, uncomfortable and full. Ruben rocks into him and leans forward, hands working in unison to slide up his chest, squeeze, then trail up until his forearms, already starting to bruise, are back in his grasp. Holds them down over Niall's head and uses them like a brace.
“Fucking hiding from me, lying, What are you doing, wasting that broad’s time Niall? I can feel you squeezing around me, she can't give you that, not the real thing.” Niall squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face to the side. Doesn’t say he didn’t know he could need this until Ruben gave it to him. Redirects instead.
“You have a-ah, a wife!” Ruben doesn’t even miss a beat.
“Damn right I do. But with all the money I’m spending I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’ve earned another,” It’s not shame nor embarrassment that coils hot and low in his guts at the sentiment.
“Ruben- I’m not your fucking wife- I’m not a - fuck- a bird” Ruben grins and if anything fucks in harder.
“That’s right. You’re just my little pussy having cunt of a brother yeah?”
“Don’t say that- while we’re, while you’re-“
“What- brother?” Niall moans, a miserable sound. “No hiding from it Niall, we’re in this.” He smiles, wide and deranged. “I’m fucking my baby brother’s sweet little cunt- hey, look at me.” He grabs Nialls face and turns it forwards, “Don’t play coy, I can feel how it makes you clench, you sick fuck. You love it.” His thrusts pick up speed and the responding moan is louder “You love this. You fucking love this.”
There are tears, and Niall is clinging to him. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Nodding against his throat and hanging on for dear life. His arms protest, strained, he won't last.
“Come on now- Come on son, tell me you love it.” Ruben clings back, hikes him up practically into his lap, hips still rolling
“I love it, fuck god I love it,”
“Thats right, that’s fucking right.” Ruben rubs a hand up the back of his neck, into his hair, lowers him back onto the couch before- finally- pulling his top off. Throwing it away without care. In the daze of motion Niall’s hands wander the new territory, petting and squeezing and pinching mindlessly.
“Who do you belong to- huh? Who lives in that fucking brain of yours all day? Who fucking takes care of you Niall?” Ruben keeps talking and talking and Niall won't last much longer if he keeps it up. The rambling churning his mind like butter.
“Say it Niall, who takes care of you?”
“You Ruben, just you. Always you- Ruben please,” Ruben’s hips stutter and he looks even more singleminded somehow, now.
“That's right, shit. We take care of each other, yeah?” Niall’s neck feels at risk of snapping from the desperate way he nods, all these dangerous, possessive sentiments engraving themselves into his bones, like he's never wanted anything more.
“I’m gonna fill you up Niall, going to fuck you full until something takes. You and me, there’s no way it wouldn’t work,”
“Ruben-”
Pregnant, no he can’t get pregnant. Some primal part of him jerks in fear and he’s reaching up above him, trying to turn onto his front, like he’d crawl away. Ruben helps, pulls out and flips him onto his stomach before punching back in, draped over Niall's back, and this new angle has him lighting Niall up like a live wire with every thrust, pushed further by Niall's swollen clit rubbing back and forth against the cushions, so sensitive its painful.
Fuck it, he hasn’t ovulated in years. He lets Ruben take him back under. Nearly cries as he grows so, so close.
“That's it, that's it. There- I’ve got you, going to set us right. Take care of everything. I always take care of you, we’ll take care of both of us.”
His upper body heaves as hands push down on his shoulders, then move him into a headlock, cutting off blood more so than air. His whole body is pinned and he can’t do anything but lie prone and take Ruben’s cock. He lets the undertow jerk him back and forth until darkness starts creeping into the edges of his vision. Then he claws at Ruben’s forearms until he’s given some slack. The rush of blood back into his head hits him and he’s coming, hoarse voice tearing out of him and cunt clenching down hard around Ruben’s cock.
His brain is white noise, body twitching and convulsing and everything he knows is pleasure. The orgasm is dragged out, Ruben hasn’t stopped, and doesn't when Niall finally goes limp. Just reaches under him to rub Niall’s sensitive clit until he’s clenching hard around him again. Fucks him a minute more until he’s coming too, hips flush with Niall’s arse.
One or two more tired thrusts, then finally stillness. Leaving Niall the room and sanity to pant and pull together the scattered parts of his brain. The final result is hazy, unmoored but functional.
Ruben lifts himself off of his back, pulls his cock out of him and Niall is overcome with the desperate need to flip over and cling to the man with his arms and legs. Stop him from moving onto whatever comes next too fast. He only summons the strength for a drawn out moan.
Ruben hushes him. A theme of the night, and Niall quiets. Lets Ruben turn him onto his back and hoist him into an upright position. He’s almost dizzy with it as Ruben drags him the rest of the way, back into his lap, and fuck, there’s his cock again. Still soft but Ruben pushes back up inside him anyways. Niall flops bonelessly against Ruben’s chest and moans as it slips in just a bit deeper, as gravity takes hold and he leaks all over it. This couch must be ruined. What else had they just ruined? He wasn’t sure he cared.
“Ruben?”
“Not done with you yet Bambi,”
Oh, good. He’d hate to have to start thinking now. Instead he lets his eyes fall shut, luxuriates in the calmness of being so full, wrapped up in an embrace he couldn’t escape if he wanted to. There's a hand in his hair again and lips moving against his neck. Ruben’s beard tickles.
“It’ll take. Gonna make sure it takes.”
What’ll take? Ruben must be as incoherent as him. Niall sighs, decides not to bother. Whatever it was, Ruben would take care of it, he could worry about it all later.