It was three am, and Jason hadn’t given even one serious thought to sleep yet. Only twenty minutes earlier his fingers had been dancing across the keys: he had a girl in shibari knots while her girlfriend paced in front of her, waiting until she was desperate enough to beg and plead for her cock.
The setup was easy, he rarely ever struggled to concoct a scenario that would get two or more sweaty people in various states of undress, but when it came time to finally do the deed he lost his rhythm, and it was a fool’s errand to try and get it back. The inspiration almost always came back but Jason had no control over when that happened and he chose to just accept it.
He pulled his glasses off and dragged his hand down his face, hoping he could exhale all of the unspent energy out of his body. It was a truth that was only known to himself, but his sex drive was intrinsically tied to the fictional—he fucked his boyfriend, Ben, and often, but he had yet to orgasm from his cock, his fingers, even his tongue that one night he decided he wanted to try tasting Jason. When Ben was finished and lying on the opposite side of the bed, drifting in and out of restless sleep, Jason was hunched over his laptop and banging out page after page of barely-altered recounts of what they had done earlier with just the players swapped.
But Ben was out tonight, work, and Jason was running on fumes.
He closed his laptop and set it aside, folding his hands over his stomach and staring up at the ceiling; Jason couldn’t stand feeling so wired with nothing to do. His fingers drummed across his stomach and he drew one leg up, sighing loudly.
Jason let his eyes fall shut and had a few peaceful, uninterrupted moments of silence before his bedroom door clicked open.
“You’re being really loud, just thought you should know.”
He took his time reopening his eyes as his little brother, Dean, slipped into the room and crossed the floor, flopping onto his bed without even an ounce of grace. At that moment, Jason accepted he wasn’t going to be sleeping at all tonight.
On the outside, his brother was a perfect clone of his teenage self: short, slight, delicate features, even down to the floppy haircut straight from the 90’s. Sometimes he smiled, but more often than not he rolled his eyes and sneered when anything was asked of him. His perpetual angst was draining, but nevertheless, Jason loved him—even if he knew better than to say it to his face.
Dean was dressed down now in pajama shorts and a long, loose t-shirt decorated with the logo of the local bar that Ben performed at on weekends. His knobby joints weren’t hidden under his scant clothes, and Jason could see bruises and faded scars littering his knees, thighs, and forearms. His lip tugged downward at the sight, though what good was pity when he wasn’t trying to give Dean an intervention?
As his little brother stretched his gangly limbs out, Jason turned his head to face him.
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I’m not a toddler.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and folded one leg over the other, getting perfectly comfortable on Ben’s side of the bed. Still, something about his posture seemed off in a way that Jason couldn’t put his finger on.
“Plus, you’re really loud when you write. It’s irritating listening to your keyboard when I’m trying to sleep.”
Maybe the walls were thinner than he thought, and Jason grimaced as he wondered what else Dean must have heard over the past six months of living with Ben.
“I didn’t know I kept you up, I’m sorry.” He tried to extend genuine sympathy to Dean, but all he got in response was a half-smirk.
“You should be.”
Jason hadn’t always been in Dean’s life—he was 22 when Dean was born, 30 when Jason had to take full custody of him because of Mom’s stroke. While Jason never planned on becoming a parent, part of the motivation for his medical transition being the idea that he could never accidentally get pregnant again after a hypothetical hysterectomy, he liked that there was no longer an expectation to go out and date now that he had to raise his little brother. His relationship with Ben was just as unplanned, only starting a little over a year ago to Dean’s absolute dismay; his daddy issues ran deep, especially so when his new dad took most of Jason’s attention along with him.
It’d been months since Dean forced himself into Jason’s bed and fell asleep there, a child-like search for comfort that juxtaposed his pissy new attitude. Not like Jason was going to deny him the opportunity to sleep somewhere he felt comfortable, even if he’d probably gag knowing just what his older brother and step-dad had done on the sheets beneath him.
Dean’s eyes slid over to Jason, his smirk unfading.
“You’re not used to sleeping alone anymore.”
“Why do you say that?” Jason met his little brother’s gaze, the same gray eyes set in almost the same face, and sometimes Jason forgot just how strong their mother’s genes were. She managed to produce two nearly-identical clones and as far as Jason knew, she had never seen it.
“I just guessed. How long’s it been with Ben?”
“A year and a half next May. A couple days after his birthday, remember?”
“You’re the one banging him, you should remember.” Dean’s arms tightened across his chest, and Jason frowned.
He turned on his side and brushed Dean’s floppy fringe out of his face, making him shake his head and scrunch his face up. Jason had pulled so many expressions in the mirror for the sake of his writing, but his nose scrunch was nowhere near as cute as Dean’s.
“I know you hate sappy stuff, but you’re okay, right? You’re not acting out here because someone’s being a dick at school?”
Dean sat up, shooting daggers over his shoulder.
“I’m not acting out! I just wanna hang out with my brother when his stupid boyfriend isn’t around, like we used to all the time!”
The pitch of Dean’s voice raised along with his blood pressure. Jason hadn’t heard his natural voice ever since he barged into his brother’s room and told him his name was Dean. He didn’t say it in the moment as he was still processing things, but Jason had always anticipated that Dean would come out as a boy and give them another common trait. But now, his lower register was sorely missed.
“Baby, I just assumed you wanted space because of Ben. It’s hard being the mediator when you’re always trying to rile him up—you know he’s in anger management, it’s like you want him to fail so we break up and you get me all to yourself again.” Jason only realized how harsh that sounded when the words came tumbling out of his mouth, so he cleared his throat and added: “I love you, and I love spending time with you, but we can’t be together all the time.”
“Why not?” Dean stood up, turning to face Jason with that same cold expression. “You’re the only person I know who doesn’t completely suck!”
Jason held back a laugh, but that jovial energy quickly faded when he saw just how serious Dean was. He wanted to close the gap between them, wordlessly telling him that Dean was always his top priority even if he had other people and obligations in his life. But, instead, he stayed put, sitting up but making no other move to console Dean, and he felt like a fucking asshole not attempting any other forms of consolation.
“I’m sorry, baby, that’s a conversation for another time. Just come lie down, you need to rest.”
The dark circles under Dean’s eyes told Jason he hadn’t slept the previous night either and was surviving on manic energy alone. Jason patted the bed, but Dean didn’t come. He stood in place, hugging himself and looking smaller than he had even when they first met.
“I don’t want to rest, not right now.”
Jason was about to protest and tell Dean he needed sleep, but then Dean’s expression shifted. A sudden realization hit him, and Jason was curious.
“There’s one way you can make it up to me.”
Dean’s hands moved down his sides, lingering, and Jason felt a deeply uncomfortable electricity burning in his core. There was another reason why Jason had been avoiding his brother, and one that was harder to acknowledge than the turmoil between Dean and Ben.
Ever since Dean’s transition began at age 12, Jason started noticing non-familial feelings creep into his thoughts about his little brother: after his first short haircut, Jason couldn’t stop staring at him when he thought Dean wasn’t looking. The day he first wore a chest binder he fixated on the straight lines of his body as he changed out of his clothes, peering through the cracked-open door, and one night Jason couldn’t stop thinking about how soft Dean’s lips looked while he was drinking a glass of water that he forced Ben into bed the second he got home from work. He rode Ben’s cock and kissed him until his lips were pink and swollen, and no matter how frequently he tried to force the thought out of his mind, he still closed his eyes and imagined he was kissing Dean.
This felt like all of his most perverted, disgusting fantasies were coming true and he couldn’t decide if he was happy about that fact or not. Dean’s thumbs hooked into the hem of his shorts, and Jason stammered as he began to pull the elastic waistband away from his skin.
“Dean, stop it,” he begged, but the sincerity in that plea was conflicted.
“Why? Aren’t we both fucked? Might as well get it out of our systems once and for all.”
Jason’s heart was pounding, but he maintained his cool exterior as he watched Dean slide his shorts off. He only removed one layer, and even with about five feet of space between them Jason caught a flash of pale skin between his thighs—Dean hadn’t been wearing underwear, and he wasn’t sure if that was intentional on his little brother’s part.
That wedge of skin quickly disappeared underneath the bottom hem of his shirt, but Jason felt his clit start to throb knowing that there was only a thin piece of fabric preserving Dean’s modesty. Guilt compounded onto his arousal and only sent more blood to groin.
Dean didn’t speak as he crawled back up onto the bed, shuffled on his knees until he was hovering over Jason.
Dean kneeled over Jason’s lap, his legs spread wide to accommodate his hips. The edge of his shirt was skimming the tops of his thighs and Jason darted his gaze away when he swore he could see the plush lips of Dean’s labia peeking out from underneath. They looked soft, plump, and Jason was torn between pushing his brother off of his lap and grabbing his hips and burying his face between his slim thighs.
Jason swore that Dean could read his mind, or could at least read the stunned expression on his face, and decided to try for a larger reaction. He pulled his shirt up to the bottom of his ribcage, exposing himself to Jason like he’d played the scenario over and over in his head for years. There was no hesitation, no shaky breathing, no fear in his eyes. It was only then, with the warm light of his Knubbig lamp shining onto the lower half of Dean’s body, that he could see the stubble creeping up the curve of his pubic bone and a small scab where he’d nicked his most sensitive skin. Dean’s labia glistened in the light, and Jason shouldn’t have been wondering how wet his vagina must be for it to be seeping past his slit.
“Who taught you how to shave?” His eyes traced a darker patch of stubble that Dean had missed in the ditch between his crotch and thigh, and his little brother scoffed.
“Not you, asshole.”
Dean really knew how to make him feel like a deadbeat, non-present father notwithstanding. At least he could swallow it down with the fact that the wires in his emotionally neglected brain crossed in such a way that the most obvious solution to his hormonal imbalance was to fuck his older brother. Did incest soothe the ache that came from a missing father figure? Jason would have to take that up with Freud’s grave.
“Dean,” he attempted to level with his baby brother while he nudged himself closer to Jason. His vagina was level with his chest now, and a bit hard to keep his eyes off of, no matter how much he knew that he should.
“Jace,” he said back as he propped one hand against the popcorn-textured wall behind them, “it’s just one time. Stop being such a fucking buzzkill.”
It was hard to deny giving Dean what he wanted when he pulled the Jace card, but he couldn’t let the floodgates break no matter how wet the insides of his thighs were becoming. He glanced up at him, his eyes dark with lust and glinting with determination. Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Dean want anything as much as this; something that neither of them should have ever wanted.
“Put your pants back on, you don’t want Ben to come in here and see you like this.”
Dean sneered and leaned in closer. “What’s he gonna do? Beat me up because he caught me seducing his boyfriend?”
Jason shook his head.
“He wouldn’t hurt you. Not if he wants me to cook and clean for him and make him happy with my mouth.”
Dean gagged in response. “You’re so fucking gross.”
“And you’re not propositioning your brother for sex right now?”
Jason was caught off guard when Dean pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the rumpled bed beside them, leaving him in nothing but his blue cat socks.
“Too hot,” he exhaled, sweat glimmering on his hairline and forcing Jason’s eyes to skim down to his vagina once again.
He swore he could smell him, and part of him wanted nothing more than to shove his nose into the slit of his cunt and inhale him, fuck him open with his tongue, show that little pervert what propositioning would get him. It wasn’t hard to picture Dean’s legs splayed, Jason’s head in between them, his fingers digging into the undersides of his thighs.
Jason was struggling to keep his head above water when Dean’s chest was shoved into his face: his tits were small, each of them only a palmful of flesh, but they were basically picture perfect with their perky nipples and the few dark freckles littered across their surface. Dean knew he wasn’t playing fair, and that got Jason hard.
His fingers drifted cautiously down the narrow swell of his hip, moving inward but stopping just shy of his mound.
“You don’t really want this,” Jason warned, attempting to convince himself in the process, but Dean scoffed and grabbed his wrist.
He clapped Jason’s hand onto his vulva, and it only took a moment for clear slick to begin smearing across his palm. Dean began to moan, a sound that melted into a shuddering breath as he used Jason’s hand like some wedged surface he could use to gratify himself. He leaned down until the sloped tip of his nose met with Jason’s, his eyes bright and his half-smirk stirring something wicked inside his older brother.
“Does it feel like I don’t want it?”
Jason’s hand was coated in slick ejaculate in almost no time, his body rocking against the mattress with each hard jerk of Dean’s crotch into his palm. His labia was flushing red underneath Jason’s touch and the flesh was burning hot like he was boiling from the inside.
He let his other hand wander up to his chest, cupping one of his small tits and making him whimper from what must have been overstimulation—he hadn’t taken into account that Dean was probably a virgin and just a few touches would put him over the edge. Jason removed his hand from his chest and grabbed his waist, allowing Dean to keep using his hand as a sex toy.
“Is it true?” Dean panted, grinding his hips down onto Jason’s hand.
“What, baby?”
Dean grunted and squeezed his eyes shut, stopping in place for a moment before he started grinding again. His cheeks were flushed pink, and Jason altered a previous thought in his mind: Dean wasn’t just cute, Dean was hot, and the little bastard knew it.
“That you blow Ben?” He struggled to hold back a whimper as Jason’s knuckle fell into place between Dean’s blushing lips, rocking back and forth against the very slight swell of his clit—he wanted to spread his lips and see just how flat that bundle of nerves was, how imperceivable it must be to the naked eye. Jason wasn’t sure whether to chalk that up to Dean still developing, or if that was all the clit he would ever have.
He grinned, finding Dean’s jealousy cute above anything else, and he waited until his brother’s eyes were open again before he responded.
“Do you only dislike Ben because we have sex?”
Dean furrowed his brow. “No. But, like, even if I did, would you blame me for wanting my brother back?”
Jason leaned up until the tip of his nose brushed against Dean’s.
“If you play nice with Ben, we can spend more time together as a family.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him, especially as Dean squeezed his hand between his thighs.
“No one-on-one time like this?”
Dean shuddered and paused again, and it sent a hot surge through Jason’s body the way he could feel his brother’s walls clenching as he came. He wasn’t going to go further than Dean wanted and shove his fingers inside him, but the pool developing across his palm was more than enough confirmation that Jason was really pleasing him.
He should have said no. He should have told Dean that even this one time was a mistake and he shouldn’t have let it get to the point that his baby brother was coming repeatedly in the palm of his hand, but Jason wasn’t going to deny that he really wanted this and he’d been thinking about it since Dean was 12. And Jason should have told Dean that they would never be doing this again and look into foster care for Dean, a jail cell for himself, but that wasn’t what he really wanted; that wasn’t what they both wanted.
“Ben works late and we’re both up all night,” he said warmly against Dean’s lips, leaning in to kiss him.
His little brother’s mouth was clumsy, like he assumed that a kiss was a show of dominance and not something like a dance. Still, there was something endearing about his inexperience, even though he seemed to be more than capable of getting himself off of Jason’s hand. Masturbation seemed an easier skill to develop alone than kissing.
“If he catches us, I can take him.” Dean giggled as Jason’s free hand moved up his side, his shoulder, until he found purchase in his hair.
He caught only a flash of his face in the light, his expression pink and joyful like he was envisioning the fight, envisioning himself winning. Jason raked his fingers through his hair and smiled up at him.
“I’ll only uphold my end of the deal if you promise to play nice with him. Can you do that, baby?”
Dean nodded eagerly, his head fell forward and under his breath he repeated "Jace, Jace, Jace" as he fucked himself on his brother's palm to orgasm, the last of the morning. Jason caught Dean as he collapsed onto him, cradling him like he never had the chance to when he was a baby, and smiled when he felt Dean start to catch his breath. He was limp, he was satisfied, and Jason truly felt like a good brother in that moment, no matter how definitively wrong that thought was. His fingers were covered in Dean, his mouth swollen from awkward kisses, the last thread of his self-restraint broken all because of his brother, all he thought he’d ever have to show for his mediocre life until Ben showed up.
And now, he could only hope, there were two.