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Fuck, couldn’t Lincoln have picked a better time? Wait just an hour longer? Apparently not, this damn smug jerk. An idiot he is.
Michael does his best to glare. Only it is quite pointless, since all Lincoln does is grin back widely. Like a winner. But if that isn’t the truth – after all, Lincoln is the one between Michael’s legs right now, isn’t he?
”Slow down!” Michael hisses angrily, not because it hurts, not at all, but because it’s so loud. Lisa is on the other side of the wall! ”Linc!”
”Yeah, yeah,” Lincoln nearly rolls his eyes, gaze returning to Michael to eat him alive. This man is not listening. ”Bite on this.”
He brings his discarded shirt above Michael carelessly, and Michael half-scoffs and half-moans. He’s perfectly silent, unlike Lincoln. As if this was the problem all along. Regardless, he bites down – inhaling Lincoln’s smell as the man continues thrusting into him. It feels spectacular. Almost good enough to forgive Lincoln for doing this to him at a time like this.
”That’s it, good boy,” Lincoln praises, but it’s more of a joke. Has he not humiliated him enough yet? If Lisa walks in on this, Michael swears he’ll choke Lincoln out. ”Hm? Whose are you?”
”Shut up and fuck me,” Michael groans through the fabric, fingers curling into the mattress. He’d barely had the time to undress before Lincoln was already trying to finger him, jeans still hanging on his other foot. Not necessarily very romantic.
”No, I wanna hear,” Lincoln teases before kissing down on Michael’s ankle in the air. He noses up to the sole of his foot, but Michael smacks him with it.
”Keep doing that and–” he tries to reprimand his idiot brother, but Lincoln pushes down on his thighs in retaliation. Ow! He doesn’t bend that much! ”–and I’ll think you have a foot fetish.”
”All of you is my fetish,” Lincoln snorts with a satiated smirk. Of course. Can Michael even win here? Just make him come, for God’s sake. But before he can snap back, Lincoln pushes the shirt further into his mouth. ”So, whose are you?”
He’s not going to answer that.
Lisa’s bathroom break has already been suspiciously long. If she’s figured them out, fuck, if she has, Michael will never let Lincoln live this down. Renovating the room, his ass.
”Ah, you’re a brat,” Lincoln complains when Michael stays silent, staring at where their bodies merge. Michael’s cock hard and leaking on his stomach, bouncing in rhythm with Lincoln’s thrusts. ”I’ll let you choose, come on.”
”Choose what?” Michael almost stutters, panting into the shirt in his mouth. It must be getting wet with spit. But that’ll be Lincoln’s problem.
”What you call me,” he replies, hands sliding up from his hips. Ultimately, he bends down to Michael’s level from his standing position. ”I’m close, please.”
With a contemplative look, up close with Michael, Lincoln decides to bite down on the shirt too – only to yank it away with his teeth. Really? His animalistic behavior almost cracks Michael up. However, the amusement is short-lived as Lincoln drags him into a kiss.
He’s close too.
”Linc? Baby?” Lincoln suggests against his lips, teeth clashing. The urgency must have caught up to him too. Or maybe it’s just a need for release – either way, Michael can’t complain. ”Honey? Darling? Oh, how about Daddy?”
Michael bites on his tongue. Just a little.
”Ow!” Lincoln wails, but seems to quiet down after hearing Michael laugh. It is funny. And he’s about to come. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, because when would he not want Lincoln? When would he not want to feel this good under his brother?
”You know, I, ah, think about it,” Michael begins, and kisses Lincoln again in between. His lips taste like his own chapstick. Fuck. If Lisa kissed him, would she notice? ”How often we do this…”
”Oh yeah?” Lincoln groans breathily, and Michael feels it on his cheek. Fingers run along his skin, and they graze at Michael’s wrists and palms before intertwining together. ”How often you take my cock?”
”Mh-hmm,” Michael agrees with a nod, and his throat is already tingling. Fuck, oh fuck, Lincoln is picking up pace. It’s not quiet enough, but Michael’s fingers twitch against Lincoln’s in need. ”I-It’s a lot.”
After that, a particularly hard thrust makes Michael whimper – back arching, a silent grunt stuck in his throat. Lincoln sounds pleased.
”Always end up like this,” he swallows thickly, and squeezes against Michael’s fingers just as hard. Okay, maybe it’s a little romantic now. Holding hands and all. ”Can’t be bratty when the cock is this good, can you?”
Michael hates how true it is. But right now, he barely cares – focusing on the building pleasure in his abdomen instead. Lincoln between his spread legs, fucking into him like his ex isn’t outside the door.
”O-Only,” Michael tries to speak, but his voice is becoming embarrassingly hoarse and high-pitched. Lincoln stares intently, and Michael bites his lip. ”Only my, a-ah, brother, could fuck me like this.”
”Oh, 's that right?” Lincoln chokes out, surprised and shuddering. Michael wraps his legs around his waist in answer. Yes. Come in me. ”You’re your brother’s bitch, huh?”
”Yes, Linc,” Michael sobs in bliss, and it doesn’t take many thrusts after for Lincoln to start filling him up. Jaw rigid and open. Fuck, they didn’t even use a condom. It’s gonna– ”Linc, I’m–”
”Come,” Lincoln urges through his own orgasm, shaking against him, and Michael tilts his head into the sheets. Frowning and panting. Just as he’s about to tell Lincoln to go harder, the man shoves the shirt back into his mouth. ”Too loud, Mike, fuck.”
He didn’t even realize.
What ends up doing it for him is Lincoln’s hand – freeing his fingers from Michael’s hold, sliding them down – stroking him until he cries into the shirt stuffed in his mouth. Michael must be biting down so hard it will ache tomorrow.
”Look at how good you are,” Lincoln coos. His fingers almost toy with his brother’s cock, wanting all and every reaction out of him. He continues jerking Michael until he’s still mewling a minute later. Too much.
”Linc,” Michael chokes half-consciously, drooling on the bed as he tries to catch his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. Finally, Lincoln lets go. Wow. But he gives him no time, because an instant kiss lands on his nose. On the cheek. On the chin. Forehead. Everywhere. So sappy. So classic. Some kind of post-sex, orgasm-induced cuteness aggression Lincoln always gets.
”You’re the best boy in the world, Michael.”
How could he stay mad at him? He loves him so much.