The steam from the shower still clung to Christian’s skin as he stood in front of the mirror, wiping a streak of fog away with his palm. He ran his fingers through his damp brown hair, checking his jawline in the reflection. A light stubble—just enough to look mature, not messy. He smirked. Fuck yeah, I look good.
He slipped into the crisp white button-down, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The old-money navy blazer followed, along with slim-fit beige chinos and leather loafers. A spritz of Bleu de Chanel hit his neck. Classy as hell. Victoria won’t know what hit her.
Christian adjusted the collar one last time, his mind already skipping ahead to the night: nice dinner at La Maison, maybe some wine if he could charm the waiter, then back to his car—or hell, maybe even a secluded spot by the lake. He’d been planning this date for a week. Victoria, the girl every guy in the neighborhood jerked off to, the one with the tight skirts and that fucking smirk. Tonight, she’d be his.
A hard bang on the bathroom door shattered his reverie.
“Yo, Christian! The fuck you doing in there? I gotta take a leak!”
Jacob. His older brother’s voice grated through the wood like sandpaper.
“Use the downstairs bathroom, asshole,” Christian shot back, not moving from the mirror.
“That one’s clogged because you’re a fucking slob,” Jacob growled. Another pound on the door. “Open up, now.”
Christian rolled his eyes. He knew this game. Jacob had been on his ass since he lost his job two weeks ago and crawled back to their parents’ house like a fucking loser. Twenty-five years old, former quarterback, now a washed-up ghost living in his childhood bedroom. While Christian—the real QB of the family—had college scouts watching him, a roster of cheerleaders ready to suck his dick, and a life that was actually going somewhere.
“Give me five minutes,” Christian said, his tone bored.
“Fuck your five minutes! I’m not your maid, bro. Open the damn door.”
The knocking got louder, harder. Christian could hear Jacob’s heavy breathing from the other side. His brother always had a short fuse, but tonight it seemed worse. Maybe it was the silence of the empty house—their parents out for their anniversary dinner, leaving only the two of them. No buffer. No referee.
“I’m on a date tonight, Jake. I need to look good,” Christian said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Not that you’d remember what a date is, considering you’re living like a bum.”
Silence. Then the door exploded inward.
Jacob had thrown his shoulder against it, bursting the cheap lock. He stood in the doorway, panting, his face twisted into a snarl. He was bigger than Christian—thicker, more rugged, with a couple inches in height and a layer of post-football fat that made him look like a bull. His T-shirt was stained, his jaw unshaven, his eyes bloodshot.
“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” Jacob stepped into the bathroom, crowding Christian. “Taking forever in here like you’re some kind of king. The fuck you got a date with? Some desperate freshman who hasn’t learned better?”
“Her name’s Victoria,” Christian said, holding his ground. He was leaner but fast, and he wasn’t about to back down. “You know—the Victoria. The one who wouldn’t even look at you when you were in high school? Yeah, she’s into me now.”
Jacob’s jaw tightened. The vein on his temple pulsed.
“You’re just a lucky little shit,” Jacob muttered. “Always been. Everything handed to you on a silver platter while I busted my ass. And now you’re gonna take the girl I should’ve had to some fancy restaurant like you’re a fucking womanizer.”
“Maybe because I am a womanizer,” Christian shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re so jealous of me because I’m popular with girls and you’re just a loser who can’t keep a job or a girl. Sad, bro.”
Something snapped.
Jacob lunged.
The impact slammed Christian against the sink, sending a glass tumbler crashing to the tile floor. They grappled, arms locked, feet scrambling for purchase. Christian threw a punch that connected with Jacob’s ribs, but Jacob barely flinched. He grabbed Christian by the collar and shoved him backward into the hallway.
“You wanna talk shit?” Jacob roared. “Let’s see how tough you are when I break that pretty face.”
They crashed to the floor, rolling over the wooden planks. Christian managed to get on top for a second, driving his fist into Jacob’s cheek, but Jacob twisted, using his weight to reverse their positions. He pinned Christian’s arms with his knees, breathing hard, sweat dripping onto his brother’s chest.
“Get off, you fucking psycho!” Christian yelled, bucking his hips.
Jacob didn’t move. Instead, he grabbed the front of Christian’s pristine white shirt and yanked. The fabric ripped open with a loud tear, buttons scattering across the floor like teeth. Christian’s torso—chiseled, tanned, sculpted by years of training—was bared under the dim hallway light.
Jacob froze.
He stared at the hard planes of muscle, the defined abs, the broad shoulders. The way Christian’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. A dusting of hair trailed from his navel downward. He looked like a fucking statue. A Greek god carved out of marble and sweat.
“The hell are you looking at?” Christian snapped, trying to push him off.
But Jacob didn’t answer. He was still staring, his mouth slightly open, his breath hitching. Something dark and twisted stirred in his gut. He’d always known his brother was hot—everyone said so. But seeing him like this, vulnerable and struggling beneath him, the torn shirt framing his perfect body…
It made Jacob’s cock twitch in his jeans.
What the fuck? he thought. I’m not gay. I’m not…
But his body didn’t care about logic. The anger was morphing into something else—something primal and electric. He wanted to hurt Christian. He wanted to own him.
Jacob leaned down, his face inches from Christian’s chest. The smell of expensive cologne mixed with sweat. He opened his mouth and sank his teeth into one of Christian’s nipples—hard.
“Fuck! Get off, you sick bastard!” Christian shrieked, his hands trying to shove Jacob’s head away.
But Jacob didn’t stop. He bit down again, then soothed the sting with his tongue, circling the hardened nub. Christian’s protests turned into a choked gasp. His hands, which had been pushing, gripped Jacob’s hair instead—not to pull him away, but to hold him there.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jacob growled against his skin. “Stay still, you little slut.”
Christian’s mind screamed at him to fight, but his body betrayed him. The pain, the humiliation, the raw power of his brother pinning him down—it sent a jolt straight to his cock. He felt himself getting hard inside his chinos, and that terrified him more than the violence.
Jacob’s hand slid down Christian’s stomach, past the waistband of his pants, into his boxers. His fingers found the thick, already semi-hard length and wrapped around it. Christian gasped, bucking into the touch involuntarily.
“Stop… stop, man…” Christian’s voice cracked.
“You sure you want me to stop?” Jacob whispered cruelly, giving a slow stroke. “’Cause your dick says something else, bro.”
Christian bit his lip, trying to suppress a moan. But one slipped out—a low, needy sound that hung in the air between them.
Jacob chuckled darkly. “That’s it. Let me hear you. Let me hear how much you love being my little bitch.”
Then he lowered his head, dragging his tongue over Christian’s collarbone, down his sternum, across every ridge of muscle. He licked a wet trail over one pectoral, then the other, circling the abused nipple before moving lower. His mouth painted Christian’s torso with saliva, leaving him glistening and panting.
Christian’s eyes were squeezed shut. He hated this. He wanted it. His hips rocked up against Jacob’s grip, and he heard himself moan again.
What the hell is happening to me ? I’m straight!
Christian’s mind spiraled as Jacob’s hand kept stroking him through his boxers, slow and deliberate, the calloused thumb rubbing over the leaking tip. He tried to summon the anger, the disgust—anything to stop this. But his hips kept bucking into his brother’s grip, and the moans kept escaping his throat like they had a mind of their own.
“Yeah, that’s it, you little slut,” Jacob growled, his mouth hovering over Christian’s ear. “Look at you. The big quarterback, getting hard for his own brother. What would Victoria think if she saw you now, huh? Spread out like a whore with your dick in my hand?”
“Fuck you…” Christian managed, but his voice came out weak, breathless.
“Fuck me?” Jacob laughed, low and cruel. He squeezed tighter, twisting his wrist as he pumped. “Nah, bro. I’m the one doing the fucking here. And you’re gonna take it, you pathetic piece of shit. You love this, don’t you? Being my little bitch? My personal cocksleeve?”
Christian shook his head, but a high-pitched whine escaped his lips.
“I said—don’t you?” Jacob’s hand stopped moving.
“Yes… yes, fuck…” Christian gasped, his hips grinding against nothing. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop…”
“Please what?” Jacob leaned down, his tongue tracing the shell of Christian’s ear. “Please who?”
“Please… Jacob… please…”
“That’s right. Say my name like the whore you are.”
Jacob’s hand resumed its rhythm, faster now, and Christian’s back arched off the floor. His torn shirt hung open, his chest slick with sweat and Jacob’s saliva. Jacob took advantage of the exposed skin, lowering his mouth to Christian’s neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark.
“Fuck, that hurts—”
“Shut up and take it, you dirty cunt.”
Jacob’s tongue traveled up Christian’s jaw, over the trimmed stubble, until his lips hovered just above Christian’s. Their breath mingled—Christian’s ragged, Jacob’s steady and commanding.
Jacob crushed their mouths together.
It wasn’t soft or tender. It was brutal and demanding, Jacob’s tongue forcing its way past Christian’s lips, exploring, claiming. Christian’s mind screamed, but his body melted into the kiss. He tasted himself on Jacob’s tongue—pre-cum and sweat—and something that was purely Jacob. The bitter tang of coffee, the salt of his skin. Their saliva mixed as Jacob bit his lower lip, drawing a drop of blood.
“Mmm… you taste like a fucking whore,” Jacob muttered against his mouth. “You like kissing your own brother, don’t you, you sick fuck?”
“Yes… That was hot…” Christian heard himself say, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
Jacob pulled back, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You want this? You want to be my little sex slave? My personal bitch?”
Christian’s cock throbbed. He’d never been this hard in his life. Every taboo, every boundary they were smashing—it ignited something primal inside him. The wrongness of it, the danger, the domination. He nodded, his eyes glassy.
“Say it,” Jacob demanded.
“I want to be… your sex slave,” Christian whispered.
“Louder. And call me ‘Master.’”
“I want to be your sex slave, Master.”
“Good boy.”
Jacob stood up, grabbing Christian by the wrist and hauling him to his feet. He dragged him down the hall to his bedroom—the room they’d shared as kids, now cluttered with Jacob’s unpacked boxes and the stale smell of a grown man’s defeat. Jacob shoved Christian onto the bed, the old mattress creaking under his weight.
“Get naked. Now.”
Christian fumbled with his belt, his fingers clumsy with arousal. He kicked off his loafers, peeled down his chinos and boxers, and sat there in nothing but the torn shirt hanging off his shoulders. Jacob eyed him like a predator sizing up prey.
“Leave the shirt. Looks hotter that way.”
Jacob stripped off his own clothes, revealing a thick, hairy body—broader than Christian’s, softer in the middle but still powerful. His cock stood hard and thick against his stomach, precum already beading at the tip. Christian’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, that’s right. Look at what you’re gonna take.” Jacob grabbed his dick and stroked it lazily. “But first, I got something special.”
He walked to his closet and rummaged through a duffel bag, pulling out a pair of padded leather cuffs with chains, and a box of silicone toys—dildos, plugs, vibrators—left over from his last girlfriend. Christian’s heart pounded.
“You used those with your ex girlfriend?” he asked.
“Yeah. She was a freak in bed. But I bet you’re gonna be even freakier, aren’t you, little bro?”
Jacob snapped one cuff around Christian’s wrist, then the other, before attaching the chain to the metal headboard. Christian was spread-eagle on his back, arms above his head, his entire body exposed and vulnerable.
“Perfect,” Jacob said, stepping back to admire his work.
He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between Christian’s spread legs. But instead of touching his brother’s cock, he raised his foot and pressed the sole against Christian’s chest, grinding his heel into one nipple.
“Lick my foot.”
Jacob brought his foot up to Christian’s face, the skin warm and slightly salty from the day. Christian hesitated, but the look in Jacob’s eyes left no room for defiance. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across the arch, tasting dirt and sweat.
“Yeah, that’s it. Get it nice and wet. Suck my toes, you little bitch.”
Christian took each toe into his mouth, one by one, sucking and licking like he was born for this. The humiliation burned, but so did the arousal. His cock lay hard against his stomach, leaking onto his abs.
“Open wide,” Jacob commanded, and he shoved two toes into Christian’s mouth, pressing deep. Christian gagged but kept going, his eyes watering.
Satisfied, Jacob pulled his foot away and repositioned himself between Christian’s legs. He grabbed Christian’s ankles and pushed his knees up to his chest, exposing his ass completely.
“You ever had anything up here before?”
“No…”
“Then this is gonna hurt. But I don’t give a fuck.”
Jacob leaned down and buried his face between Christian’s cheeks.
The first touch of his tongue against the tight ring of muscle made Christian gasp. Jacob ate him out like a starving man, licking, sucking, probing with his tongue. He spread Christian’s cheeks wide and dove deeper, the stubble on his chin scraping against the sensitive skin.
“Oh fuck… oh fuck…” Christian moaned, his hands pulling at the cuffs.
“You taste fucking amazing, bro,” Jacob growled between licks. “Sweet and dirty. Like a real whore.”
He pulled back and spat on Christian’s hole, then pressed a finger inside. Christian cried out—part pain, part pleasure. Jacob worked the finger in and out, stretching him, before adding a second.
“Please… please, Master… more…”
“Begging already? Good slut.”
Jacob reached for the box of toys and pulled out a medium-sized silicone dildo, lubed it up, and pressed the tip against Christian’s entrance.
“Ready to take it, baby bro?”
Christian nodded, his eyes screwed shut.
Jacob pushed.
The dildo slid in inch by inch, Christian’s ass clenching around the foreign object. He gasped and moaned, his toes curling. Jacob fucked him with the toy, fast and hard, the wet sound filling the room.
“Look at you, taking a dick in your ass like a natural. Whose little bitch are you?”
“Yours… I’m yours, Master…”
“Damn right.”
After a few minutes, Jacob pulled the dildo out, slick with lube and Christian’s juices. Christian’s hole gaped, pink and used. Jacob held the toy up to Christian’s face.
“Suck it. Taste your own ass.”
Christian parted his lips and took the dildo into his mouth, tasting himself—musky, bitter, filthy. He licked it clean, his eyes locked on Jacob’s.
“Good. Now we share.”
Jacob leaned down, his tongue meeting Christian’s on the silicone surface. They licked the toy together, their tongues sliding against each other, tasting Christian’s ass mixed with lube. Jacob pulled the dildo away and kissed Christian hard, forcing the flavor into his mouth.
“Swallow,” he ordered.
Christian swallowed.
Their tongues tangled, and for a moment, they were just two brothers lost in the forbidden heat of it, the taste of sin on their lips. The silicone dildo fell to the sheets, forgotten, as Jacob broke the kiss and looked down at Christian with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“You’ve been practicing on that toy long enough,” Jacob said, his voice low and rough. “Now it’s time for the real thing. You ready to suck your first dick, little bro?”
Christian’s throat went dry. He’d just sucked a plastic toy, but a real cock—his own brother’s cock—was something else entirely. Yet his body was already leaning forward, his wrists straining against the cuffs as Jacob released the chain from the headboard, leaving the leather cuffs dangling from Christian’s wrists.
“Get on your knees,” Jacob ordered.
Christian scrambled up, his knees sinking into the old mattress. Jacob stood in front of him, his thick cock level with Christian’s face, the tip slick with pre-cum. Jacob grabbed a fistful of Christian’s hair and guided his head forward.
“Open wide. And remember—use your tongue, your lips, and don’t forget my balls. I want the whole fucking package.”
Christian parted his lips and took the head of Jacob’s cock into his mouth. The taste hit him—musk, salt, the faint bitterness of pre-cum. It was raw, manly, nothing like the clean sweetness of a girl’s pussy. He gagged slightly as the tip hit the back of his throat.
“Fuck, yeah,” Jacob groaned, his hips twitching. “That’s it. Take it deeper. You’re a natural-born cocksucker, you know that?”
Christian’s eyes watered, but he pressed forward, taking more inches until his nose brushed Jacob’s pubic hair. He fought the gag reflex, focusing on breathing through his nose. Jacob’s hand kept his head in place, holding him there for a long, agonizing moment.
“Look at me,” Jacob growled.
Christian looked up, his eyes wide and tear-filled, Jacob’s cock buried in his throat.
“You like having your brother’s dick down your throat, don’t you, you little slut?”
Christian tried to nod, which made Jacob’s cock twitch inside him.
“Good boy. Now swallow around it.”
Christian did, the muscles of his throat contracting around the shaft. Jacob groaned and pulled out slowly, letting Christian gasp for air before shoving back in.
“Yeah, that’s better than any pussy I’ve ever had,” Jacob muttered, picking up a rhythm. “Your mouth is perfect. Built for this.”
He fucked Christian’s face for a minute, alternating between deep thrusts and shallow strokes that let Christian lick the sensitive head. Then Jacob pulled out completely and slapped his cock across Christian’s cheek.
“Suck on my balls. Show them some love.”
Christian leaned forward and took one of Jacob’s heavy testicles into his mouth, rolling it gently with his tongue. Jacob’s knees buckled slightly.
“Fuck, yeah… that’s the spot. Lick them both.”
Christian obeyed, moving from one ball to the other, licking and sucking until they were both slick with his saliva. Jacob’s breathing grew ragged, his hand tightening in Christian’s hair.
“I’m gonna cum soon,” Jacob warned. “But I’m not blowing my load in your mouth. I’m gonna fuck your tight little ass first. Get on your back.”
Christian lay back, his legs spread, his hole still slick and pink from the earlier fingering. Jacob grabbed his ankles and hoisted them over his shoulders, the soles of Christian’s feet pressed against Jacob’s chest.
“You ready to get fucked, slut?”
“Yes, Master… please, fuck me…”
Jacob lined up his cock, the thick head pressing against Christian’s entrance. “Remember, relax. You’ll feel better if you relax.”
He pushed.
The first inch was tight, so tight that Christian cried out, his hands gripping the sheets. Jacob paused, giving him a moment to adjust, then pushed deeper. The sensation was overwhelming—full, burning, intimate. Christian’s eyes rolled back.
“Oh god… oh fuck… Jacob…”
“That’s right, say my name. I’m the one owning this ass now.”
Jacob bottomed out, his hips flush against Christian’s ass. He stayed there for a second, letting Christian feel the fullness, then began to move. Slow at first, long strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sliding back in. Christian’s moans turned into a steady rhythm, matching Jacob’s thrusts.
“Yeah, you like that? You like getting your ass pounded by your big brother?”
“Yes… yes… harder, please…”
Jacob obliged. He increased the pace, slamming into Christian with a wet, slapping sound. The bed creaked, the headboard banging against the wall. Sweat dripped from Jacob’s chest onto Christian’s stomach.
“You’re such a fucking whore,” Jacob grunted. “A cock-hungry little bitch. Who would’ve thought the golden boy quarterback was a dirty bottom?”
“I’m your dirty bottom, Master,” Christian gasped, his hips rising to meet every thrust.
Jacob leaned down and grabbed one of Christian’s feet, bringing it to his mouth. He sucked on the toes, licking between them, tasting the salt and the lingering traces of his own foot from earlier. The sensation made Christian’s toes curl, his cock leaking precum onto his stomach.
Jacob bit down gently on the arch.
He released the foot, still fucking Christian, and leaned forward to capture his mouth in a brutal kiss. Their tongues clashed, saliva spilling down Christian’s chin. Jacob broke the kiss and looked at him, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
“Hey, remember that date you had tonight? You know, with Victoria?”
Christian’s eyes widened. “What about it?”
“You’re gonna call her. Right now. And you’re gonna cancel.”
“What? No, I can’t—”
“You can, and you will.” Jacob reached over to the nightstand where Christian’s phone lay. He grabbed it, unlocked it with Christian’s thumb, and pulled up Victoria’s contact. “You don’t want her to hear you moaning like a bitch while I’m balls-deep in your ass, do you?”
Christian’s heart raced. The thought of being caught, of Victoria hearing his shame, made him even harder. Jacob pressed the call button and held the phone to Christian’s ear.
“Say hi,” Jacob whispered, and thrust hard.
“H-hey, Victoria?” Christian’s voice cracked.
“Hey, Christian! I was just about to get ready. Are you excited for tonight?” Her voice was bright, cheerful.
“Yeah, um… listen, I’m really sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. Something came up.”
“Something came up?” Victoria’s tone shifted to concern. “Are you okay? You sound… weird.”
Behind her words, Jacob was fucking Christian in long, slow strokes, each one pushing a grunt from Christian’s lips. He clamped his hand over his mouth, but Jacob pulled it away.
“I’m fine,” Christian managed, his voice strained. “Just… family stuff. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re breathing heavily.”
“Yeah, I’m just… just working out. Ran a few miles. I’m winded.”
“Okay, well… take care of yourself. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Bye, Victoria.”
“Bye.”
Christian ended the call, his hand shaking. Jacob took the phone and tossed it aside, then grabbed Christian’s face and kissed him violently, his tongue forcing its way in as he increased the pace of his hips.
“That was hot,” Jacob growled. “You’re my whore now. Not hers. Not anyone’s. Mine.”
He fucked Christian with abandon, both of them lost in the primal rhythm. Christian’s moans turned into shouts, his body trembling on the edge of release. Jacob’s thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged.
“I’m gonna cum,” Jacob grunted. “I’m gonna fill your ass with my load, and you’re gonna take it, you fucking cockslut.”
“Yes, yes, cum inside me, Master… please…”
With a final, deep thrust, Jacob buried himself to the hilt and roared, his cock pulsing, spilling hot cum deep inside Christian’s ass. The feeling of being filled, of his brother’s seed flooding his insides, pushed Christian over the edge. He screamed, his own cum shooting across his stomach and chest, splattering Jacob’s belly.
They collapsed together, Jacob’s weight pressing Christian into the mattress. Their hearts pounded against each other, their breath mingling in the stale air of the room. Jacob pulled out slowly, a trickle of cum leaking from Christian’s hole.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Jacob lifted his head, his eyes meeting Christian’s. The anger was gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.
“I love you,” Jacob whispered. “I know it’s fucked up, but… I love you, bro.”
Christian’s eyes welled up. He reached up—cuffed hands and all—and cupped Jacob’s cheek.
“I love you too, Jacob. I always have.”
They kissed, soft and slow, the violence of the past hour melting into something tender. Jacob broke the kiss and pulled Christian closer, wrapping his arms around him.
“You’re mine now,” Jacob murmured into Christian’s hair. “My little brother. My lover. My everything.”
“Yeah,” Christian breathed. “Yours.”
They lay there, tangled together, the sins of the night fading into the warmth of each other’s embrace. The brothers were reunited—not as rivals, but as something far more dangerous and beautiful.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
