He bucked his hips and shifted his weight so he had the advantage, moving himself on top of me. But I countered with a headlock and used his momentum against him. We rolled so he was face down on the ground with me spread out on top, my chest to his back. Wes wasn’t one to give up easily, so he threw his head back and nearly clocked me in the nose. I reared up in time to miss it, but my grip on his neck faltered, and he pushed me off him.
I didn’t think he’d be one for cheap shots, but he kneed me in the gut and swung at my face, jabbing me in the jaw hard enough to hurt but not enough to ring my bell. When he tried to run again, I grabbed his ankle and sent him flying forward. He rolled to his back just as I climbed on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips, and I smacked him on the cheek. Hard. Harder than he’d hit me.
My brother’s face whipped to the side, but he recovered and came back with a vengeance, arms flailing, hips arching, legs kicking. I nearly lost my seat as he swung at me again, fist flying toward my face. I caught his wrist and pinned it above his head, bringing my face millimeters from his.
Then I felt the cold kiss of steel at my neck and froze. The fucker had pulled a knife on me. My fault for not specifying no weapons.
“What now, big brother?” It was dark, and the waxing moon didn’t provide enough light through the shadows of the trees to fully make out his features, but I nearly laughed as one of his eyebrows crept up his forehead and he twisted his lips into a wry grin.
I sucked in a breath as gently as I could, fully aware that this version of Wes might slit my throat and leave me for dead. Still…it turned me on, and that said more about how fucked-up I was than any blood-flesh-demon binding ritual ever could.
“You think I’m scared of your little pig-sticker?” I tutted and leaned into it, bringing my lips closer to his. “Go on.”
He heaved deep inhales, either in recovery from our chase or the precarious circumstances in which we found ourselves, and my focus dropped to his beautiful mouth. Wes looked at mine, too, and I used that one moment of distraction to twist his weapon hand away from him, grab the knife, and toss it to the side.
Wes tried again to toss me off him, shifting his torso to use my weight against me, but I expected that, and I leaned to the other side to offset it, grabbing his free hand to pin it above his head next to the other one.
“Fuck.” He groaned, now entirely held down. He tried kicking his legs behind me, but I wouldn’t budge. Not even when he arched his back and twisted side to side. I only tightened my grip on his arms.
“Give.” I stared down at him, fury mixing with the pure elation of having won, and my cock twitched, now fully hard behind my jeans.
He squared his jaw and glared, but I was delighted by that, too. At least his angry defeat wasn’t the empty, guilt-ridden zombie I’d met at the motel.
“Give!” I shook him to get his attention, maybe snap him out of his determination to win, to stay away from us.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Give.”
I smiled, and my wrath melted away. “There’s a good boy.”
“Fuck off.” He arched his hips in a feeble attempt to move me, but I held firm, and when his thick, heavy cock came into contact with mine, my grin widened.
“Well, well, well,” I teased, leaning forward to brush my nose against his. “I think he likes it.”
“Get off me.” He tried to lift his arms, but the combined weight of me and gravity held him down.
“No.” I trailed down the side of his cheek to his jaw, ghosting my lips along his face in a whisper kiss that made him shiver. He wanted to relent, I sensed it clear as day, but he also didn’t want to give up the fight. He thought he was still protecting us. He thought he didn’t deserve us.
Stupid little brother.
“When are you going to get it?” I murmured, pressing my lips to his ear. “I love you. We love you. And there’s not a place in this fucking world where you can hide from that. I won’t let you.”
He choked back a sob as I pinched his earlobe between my teeth and pulled. That gasping sound quickly turned into a moan, and I knew I had him.
Fuck yeah.
“You shouldn’t,” he whimpered.
“Too bad.” I leaned down to kiss his neck, just above his pulse, reveling in the shiver that raced down his spine. “I do. I always have.”
When I lifted back up to face him, his features softened, and something like adoration met me in his eyes. It was sweeter and more endearing than any expression he’d ever shown me, and when his eyes dropped to my mouth again, I decided to indulge us both.
I closed the distance, placing a tender peck there first to check the waters. But fuck, the sensation of his soft, perfect mouth rattled down my body, and I couldn’t help rocking my pelvis into his, sliding our cocks against each other.
When I pulled away, he chased after me, connecting our mouths again in a thundering release of tension and years of devotion. I groaned into the contact and opened my mouth to wrestle my tongue in between his lips. Even this, the bastard fought me on. He nudged against me with his own, desperate to get inside me, biting and licking and sparring.
But I wouldn’t let him. I’d won this round, and we both knew what that meant. I pulled away from him and released my grip on him, sliding my palms down his arms, the triangle scars on my hands rubbing against flesh and soft cotton. When I got to his shirt, I balled it into a fist and yanked him up.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I said. “It’s going to be rough, and when you come, just know that’s what you deserve.”
