We were both drunk when it happened. Mark, my older brother by three years, had just turned twenty-eight and I was twenty-five. We’d been sharing the apartment since Mom died, splitting bills, splitting beer, and lately splitting the same filthy looks when we thought the other wasn’t watching. That night the game was on, the lights were low, and Mark’s hand kept landing on my thigh every time he reached for the remote.
“Fuck, you’re tense,” he said, squeezing. His palm stayed there.
I didn’t move it. “Been a long week.”
He grunted and kept rubbing, fingers sliding higher until they brushed the edge of my shorts. My cock twitched hard. We both felt it. Mark didn’t pull away. Instead he pressed his palm flat over the growing bulge and squeezed once, slow and deliberate.
“Jesus, little brother,” he muttered. “You’re already hard.”
I swallowed. “So are you.”
He was. The thick line down his thigh was obvious. We stared at each other for two seconds, then Mark leaned in and kissed me like he’d been waiting years. Tongue, teeth, rough stubble. I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed back just as dirty. We broke apart breathing hard.
“Bedroom,” he said. “Now.”
We didn’t make it to the bed. Mark shoved me against the hallway wall, yanked my shorts down, and dropped to his knees. His mouth was hot and wet and filthy. He sucked my cock like he was starving for it, gagging himself on the first deep thrust, spit running down my balls. I fucked his throat while he moaned around me, one hand jerking his own dick through his jeans.
“Get up,” I growled. “I want yours.”
He stood, stripped, and shoved me toward the couch.
We landed in a tangle of limbs, both naked, both leaking. Mark spat in his hand, reached between my legs, and shoved two thick fingers straight into my ass. No lube, just spit and raw need. I grunted and pushed back on them.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, voice low and dirty. “Gonna open you up on my cock, little brother. Gonna fill you up.”
He pulled his fingers out, lined up, and pushed the fat head of his dick against my hole. One hard thrust and he was inside me, balls-deep in one go. I yelled. He didn’t stop. He fucked me like he hated me and loved me at the same time, long, brutal strokes that made the couch creak. Every time he bottomed out he ground his hips and said filthy shit in my ear.
“Take it. Take your brother’s cock. Been wanting to wreck this hole for years.”
I reached down and stroked myself in time with his thrusts. Mark slapped my hand away and took over, jerking me rough and fast while he pounded my ass. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. Sweat dripped off his chest onto my stomach. He leaned down and bit my neck hard enough to leave a mark.
“Gonna come in you,” he warned. “Gonna breed my little brother’s ass.”
“Do it,” I gasped. “Fill me up, Mark. Fucking do it.”
He slammed in three more times and unloaded with a long, broken groan. I felt every pulse, hot and thick, flooding me. The second he finished he pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and buried his face between my cheeks, licking his own cum out of my hole while he jerked me off. I came so hard I saw white, shooting across the couch cushions while Mark tongue-fucked his load deeper inside me.
We didn’t talk much after. Just cleaned up, drank water, and went to his bed. Around three in the morning I woke up to his cock sliding back into me from behind, slower this time but still deep and possessive. We fucked again, lazy and filthy, until the sun came up.
By the time we finally passed out, both of us were marked with bites and bruises, cum drying on our skin. Mark’s arm was heavy across my chest. His last words before sleep were simple and direct.
“Same time tomorrow night. Don’t wear anything to bed.”
I didn’t.
