Happy Holidays, myjadedhavok!
Author: mediaville
Recipient: myjadedhavok
Title: I often kiss you when there’s no one else around
Characters: Joe Jonas, Nick Jonas
Pairings: Joe/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,000
Spoilers: None
Warnings: See pairing. M/m incest, underage.
Disclaimer: None of this is real! SADLY.
A/N: To myjadedhavok: I hope you like it!
Summary: Joe breaks his wrist right before the holiday and their hard-won month off. Nick takes care of him, doing all the little things Joe can’t do comfortably for himself with a bum right-arm.
The Request: myjadedhavok requested “anything to do with Joe and Nick's epic love for one another and some plot with the porn.”
I often kiss you when there’s no one else around
“Just hold still,” Nick huffs as Joe squirms in the chair. “Otherwise I’ll get it in your eyes.”
Joe tries to hold still, but the cold marble is digging in to the back of his neck and his arm is throbbing and everything is awful.
“I- I can’t. I- Can you get me a pillow or something to sit on? My neck is killing me,” Joe complains.
Having a broken wrist sucks. Joe is always uncomfortable, even when he’s lying completely still. And the makeshift hair-washing station they’ve set up in the upstairs bathroom is functional, sure, but it’s a long way from comfy.
Even though Joe knows he’s being insufferable, Nick doesn’t roll his eyes or lose his patience, not even once. He just does his best to make Joe comfortable, to make the best out of a bad situation. “Yeah, hang on,” he says. His hands are wet, arms covered in bubbles up to the elbow, but he just shakes them off over the sink so as not to drip water all over the floor. As he does, his ring slides right off his finger and hits the tile with a cling!
“You’re too skinny,” Joe says. He runs his good hand along Nick’s side and frowns, feeling at Nick’s waist with the back of his knuckles. Lately every time Joe prods at Nick’s body he feels sort of like the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel, blindly feeling around for Nick’s delicious softness and only getting chicken-bone for his trouble.
Nick chuckles and wipes a soapy hand across his forehead. A few bubbles cling to the curls around his face. “I’m just soapy,” he says, and bends over to pick up his ring from the floor. As he does, his v-neck t-shirt rides up, exposing Nick’s hip and his Omnipod to Joe’s critical eye. Nick’s jeans stay in place, held fast to his waist by his belt, but Joe can see the slack in the denim where there previously was none.
“These are big on you,” Joe points out, tugging at the pocket of Nick’s jeans.
“They’re just stretched out. I haven’t washed them in a few days.”
“Nick,” Joe says, using his very best big brother voice. Don’t mess with me, he means.
His tone is serious enough that Nick stops, turns to face him and gives him an affectionate smile. “I’m fine, Joe,” he says. He tugs up his shirt and slouches, so that his barely-there baby fat makes a neat little roll. “See?” he says, and pokes at his tummy.
Joe is momentarily distracted by the faint little trail of hair that runs from Nick’s navel to the waist of his jeans. He reaches out, meaning to pinch at Nick’s belly but instead just ends up stroking at the soft skin there. Nick’s stomach flutters and clenches under his touch. “Take your shirt off,” Joe says, voice low.
Nick huffs out a laugh. “Joe,” he says, like a gentle reprimand. You’re pushing it, he means.
“You’re not eating enough,” Joe says seriously. “I know you’re excited about taking over the world and everything, but it’s all for nothing if you don’t-”
“If I don’t take care of myself,” Nick parrots, turning and giving Joe an amused grin. “I am taking care of myself. I promise.” He rests a damp hand on the shoulder of Joe’s good arm. “But right now I’m taking care of you, for once. So just,” he inhales and looks towards the ceiling, choosing his words carefully. “Just put a sock in it,” he says with a crooked smile, reminding Joe just how young his baby brother really is. “I’ll be right back.”
Joe sighs and lifts his head up, sits upright in the chair. Water drips all over his shoulders but being wet feels better than having neck cramps.
“Lift up,” Nick coaxes, back at his side, tapping at Joe’s hips. He pushes a pillow under Joe’s butt and asks, “How’s that?”
Joe wiggles on the pillow and leans his head back, straining for the sink with his neck. “Better,” he grits, because it is better, but it still stinks.
“Again,” Nick orders, and pushes a second pillow under Joe’s hips. His eyes catch on Joe’s thighs as he pushes himself up again, and Joe feels that momentary twinge of insecurity that always pops up when he catches Nick looking at him in that quiet, careful Nick-way. Joe’s fit; he takes good care of himself, works out, eats right. But he’s got these thick thighs, like a woman’s, and Nick- Nick just doesn’t. Nick’s all lean and boyish, even when he’s not skinny like he is now.
“Better?” Nick asks. This time it actually is better, and Joe sighs as he relaxes his neck. “One more,” Nick says, only this time he slides a rolled-up towel behind Joe’s neck, creating a cushion right where Joe’s neck is hitting the hard back of the chair and the edge of the sink.
“Mmm,” Joe hums happily, forgetting about his big thighs, his skinny brother and his bum arm for a sweet moment. “Perfect.”
Nick hums and reapplies himself to the task at hand. He uses a glass to pour the warm water over Joe’s head, stroking it away from his face as he does it. Joe lets his eyes fall closed, enjoying Nick’s gentle touch. It’s a rare treat, what with Nick always reminding Joe where the boundaries of their interactions should be, to have Nick so close, so tactile. It feels so nice that Joe almost wants to purr, to lean into Nick’s touch more than he should, but he doesn’t want to risk alerting Nick to the fact that they’re skirting a danger zone.
“Quit moving,” Nick says softly when Joe leans turns his head briefly to nuzzle at the inside of Nick’s forearm as it swipes across his face. “Just sit still. I’ve got you.”
“Yessir,” Joe quips, just to watch Nick’s cheeks flush a nice, cheery shade of pink. He’s too easy.
For a fleeting moment Joe is thankful for his shattered wrist, for giving him moments like this, quiet in the bathroom, alone with Nick’s hands on him. It just feels really good.
“It’s going to suck when you’re not here,” Joe says before he can think better of it. It’s his job to be supportive of Nick’s dreams, of his career, but both of those things are taking Nick away from him so it’s kind of tough to remember to put on his happy face these days.
Nick bites his lip against the smile threatening to break his intense-concentration face. “The cast will be off in two weeks,” he says, poking Joe in the nose and leaving a cluster of bubbles behind. “You’ll be washing your own hair in no time.”
“Yeah, well. I’m going to miss you,” Joe blurts out. “Even when I’m not washing my hair.”
Nick raises an eyebrow at him and snorts. “Wow. You should write for Hallmark. No wonder you get all the girls.”
“Yeah?” Joe grins up at Nick with a knowing look on his face. “Am I making your heart go pitter-patter, Nicholas?”
“Obviously,” Nick says drily.
They’re quiet for a bit after that, just the rush of the water and the soft crunching noise of Nick working the shampoo through Joe’s hair with his fingers. When Nick shifts a certain way, Joe gets a peek at the hair under Nick’s arms through the gap in his t-shirt sleeve; a twist and he can breathe in Nick’s smell, this intense little man scent of sweat and deodorant and soap. Another move and Joe can see the freckle on the inside of Nick’s elbow, a lone mark on the underside of his arm where there is no tan, just soft, new skin. Nick is dark, just like the rest of them, but strangely enough he has baby-fine blond hairs on his forearms, so light they’re nearly clear. Joe takes it all in, marvels at the ways in which Nick is so different from anyone else.
Joe relaxes and exhales against Nick’s skin as he runs his fingers through Joe’s hair and rinses the soap out. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but somehow a soft, whimpering noise escapes Joe’s mouth. It’s quiet enough in the bathroom for the sound to surprise both Joe and Nick. Joe cracks opens his eyes and Nick slows his hands, checks to make sure his brother’s not hurting. He immediately looks down at Joe’s body, like he needs to make sure Joe’s bad wrist is not in an awkward position.
It’s not.
What is awkward is Joe’s dick, all filled up stiff and hot and unapologetic, pushing his track pants into a tent up over his crotch. He’s not sure exactly when he got hard, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. All he can do is watch Nick flush and dart his eyes back to Joe’s face, fingers still frozen in Joe’s hair. Joe immediately shuts his eyes, tries to pretend he’s just chilling in the chair instead of getting turned on by his brother.
“Joe?” Nick asks, keeping his voice quiet.
“Mmm?”
There’s a pause, and then Nick asks, “You- want me to stop?”
Joe shakes his head slowly because although he could completely understand why Nick might want to stop, might want to leave him in the bathroom until the problem subsides, the truth of the matter is that no, he does not want Nick to stop. “Nnn, nnn,” he says. “Feels good.”
Nick laughs nervously. “I, yeah. I can see that.”
Joe’s eyes flutter open against his will and he sees Nick’s cheeks turn even pinker. He curls his neck up a bit, takes a peek down his own body. Nick strangely holds his head up for him, still taking care of him like a good brother. Always so attentive. “Right,” Joe says, voice cracking a bit. “Sorry.”
Nick just waits for a moment, one hand cradling Joe’s head and the other hanging limply, dripping soapy water onto the tile.
“It’s not like I can-” Joe mumbles and trails off. He shrugs the shoulder where the cast is covering the better part of his right arm. He hasn’t been able to properly jack off since the accident. Everything about his left hand feels wrong.
Nick gapes and lets out a surprised little, “Oh!” Just in case getting hard in front of your brother isn’t embarrassing enough, there’s always the masturbation discussion to kick things up a notch. “That sucks,” Nick says.
“Is there conditioner?” Joe says, changing the subject. Also, he’d very much like the hair-washing to continue.
Nick forces himself to look away from where Joe’s dick is still pushing against the soft material of his pants. “Uh, yeah.”
Joe closes his eyes again as Nick rubs the conditioner into his hair. He goes slowly, and Joe watches him quietly. He can see that Nick’s trying to focus on Joe’s head, but he keeps sneaking glances at Joe’s dick. Nick’s probably never seen anyone’s dick that hard, not even his own, really, because he wouldn’t just leave his own dick poking up against his pants without adjusting himself. Joe’s seen Nick pop one on more than a few occasions, but he’s always really discreet about it, taking care of it quickly. Anyone but Joe probably wouldn’t even notice, but Joe can always tell when it happens to Nick. And he knows when Nick has to take things in hand, so to speak. He can always tell when Nick’s just rubbed one out. Something about the way his body relaxes that almost looks out of place, just for a few minutes. Also, Joe can smell it on him and has said so on a couple of occasions, just to watch Nick blush.
Nick pours warm water through Joe’s hair again, taking care not to get any on his face. He pushes forward, leaning down over Joe so that his dog tag drags against Joe’s chin.
“Sorry,” Nick says, and it’s nothing more than a whisper. Joe’s not sure what he’s sorry about, but then Nick leans over further, crowding over Joe’s face so that he can get at the hair at the very back of Joe’s neck. He rubs there with his thumbs, ostensibly rinsing out the conditioner residue.
Before Joe can fully process what’s happening, Nick is shoving closer still, pushing one knee up onto the seat of the chair, in between Joe’s thighs, and leaning further over the sink. The vee of his t-shirt is hanging low, giving Joe a clear view of his bare chest. Any thought Joe had of protesting is wiped away when he gets a glimpse at Nick’s pink, puffy nipple, pointing down at him while Nick’s arm moves back and forth against Joe’s scalp.
Nick leans across him further, grabbing the glass and refilling it, pouring more warm water against Joe’s head, tucking it behind Joe’s ears. He stumbles slightly, has to grab onto Joe’s shoulder for balance, and scoots his knee further up on the seat of the chair until he’s pressed quite meaningfully against Joe’s crotch. It’s a clumsy attempt at seduction, one that Joe is amazed to be the recipient of.
“Uh,” Nick says, clearing his throat. “Can you lift your head just a little? So I can get the back?” His voice is rough, hoarse and low in a way that Joe has only heard a handful of times in their lives.
Joe can’t bring himself to respond verbally; all of his brain cells are focused on the press of Nick’s sturdy little thigh pressed nice and tight to his dick. He just leans his head up, doesn’t take his eyes off of Nick’s face.
“That’s it,” Nick says, encouraging him. He massages his wet fingers into Joe’s crown and presses forward one more time.
Joe doesn’t need another hint.
He wraps his good arm around Nick’s lower back and tugs, pulling Nick flush against him. Nick’s risen up on his knee, so he ends up pressing his hips against Joe’s chest, his soft little belly pushing right up into Joe’s face.
“Unff,” Nick breathes out, surprised. Joe doesn’t miss a beat, rubbing his face right up against Nick’s middle, nuzzling the hem of his t-shirt up so that he can rub his coarse, unshaven jaw right against where Nick is softest, most vulnerable. “Oh!” Nick gasps, shrinking back for a moment, tucking his stomach away from Joe’s rough touch.
“Shhh, c’mere,” Joe murmurs, pulls Nick back against him and rubs his mouth at the sensitive skin under Nick’s bellybutton. Nick rocks forward ever so slightly, pressing his hips up enough that Joe can’t miss the obvious bulge in Nick’s jeans before he slides down, crumpling onto Joe’s lap, letting his knees fall to the outside of Joe’s legs. The pressure of Nick’s weight, of Nick’s sweet little rump pressing against his dick is enough to force a groan from Joe. He grasps at Nick’s waist with his good hand, steadying him and holding him down at the same time.
“L-let me,” Nick says and Joe just thinks, yes yes yes. Nick rocks up for a moment, lifting his hips so he can reach the towel he’d set by the sink earlier. He moves with purpose, letting his weight press and drag against Joe’s erection as he shifts forward and up. Joe stares at him, wide-eyed and stunned, as Nick wraps the towel around Joe’s neck and proceeds to rub the excess water from his hair.
“Nick,” he rasps and tugs on Nick’s belt loops.
Nick’s eyes dart down quickly at Joe’s face, down to his mouth, back up again. His cheeks are splotched with red but his expression is steady, quietly confident. “I’ve got you,” Nick says softly and lowers his hips back down onto Joe’s, pressing down and rocking with just the right amount of pressure.
“Ohhhh,” Joe groans on an exhale. He tucks his face into Nick’s shoulder and wraps both arms around Nick’s back, holding him down as best he can with the stupid cast in the way. There’s no universe that Joe thought he’d ever exist in where this was a possibility, where Nick would give him this willingly. And yet somehow it’s happening, Nick rocking back and forth on his lap, moving in an unpracticed rhythm that’s driving Joe insane with want.
“Are you-? Is this-?” Nick stutters, hot breath in Joe’s ear.
“So good,” Joe breathes, and then bites at the skin low on Nick’s neck. Nick arches for him, giving him room and tacit permission to take, and Joe does, biting again, harder. He wants to leave a mark, so that when this fever dissipates and Nick leaves for Tennessee, leaves Joe behind, he won’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen. He needs Nick to remember this, to feel him when he’s not there.
“Oh!” Nick cries out, twisting away from Joe’s vicious teeth. “Don’t,” he breathes, but it’s a weak protest, further undermined by the solid outline of his thick little dick in his jeans.
The creaking of the chair and the noise of their breath coming fast and loud echo against the cold marble tile, making everything seem overloud and obvious. Nick’s hips shift and press, shift and press and Joe wants so much, wants to feel Nick through his pants, wants to shove up against Nick, wants to fuck Nick, oh Christ he does, so much.
“Unngh,” he groans, biting back the words, twisting his face up to keep it all in as he unravels under his brother. His baby brother, with his perfect skin, his soft young belly, his angular handsome face, his tender pink nipples, his tight broad shoulders, his fat red mouth. “Wanna,” Joe gasps, and then bites at his tongue harder, shakes his head.
Nick slips his arms around Joe’s neck, holding him close. His cheeks are hectic, flushed with color, and the curls around his face are damp with sweat. “What do you need? Tell me what you need,” he pants, words breaking on every punch of Joe’s hips against his own. He wipes one hand through Joe’s hair, slicking it back and then digging his thick fingers in and tugging. “Love you,” he whispers, bending down and pressing his forehead against Joe’s. The gesture is so familiar, so comfortable and so Nick that Joe feels something in his chest ache.
He nudges his face up, pressing his mouth against Nick’s nose and takes a shuddering breath. “K-kiss me,” he says. “C’mon.”
Nick gasps, stupidly shocked for a moment, face scrunching up into this tragic mess, mouth dropping open and pulling away.
“Please,” Joe asks, begs. He’s right there, so close and this is all he really wants, all he’s wanted for so long, longer than he’s even realized. “Please, Nick. S-so close.”
Nick leans closer but not close enough so Joe strains up, struggles to press their mouths together. For a moment they’re just breathing the same air, lips bumping and mouths knocking but not kissing, but then Nick gives in, nods shakily and licks his lips. In an instant Joe is crashing against him like a bull, frantic and uncoordinated and desperate. He can’t keep quiet, can’t control anything beyond how crazy-good it is to finally taste Nick’s mouth, bite at his lips, suck on his tongue.
Nick whines into his brother’s mouth, all turned on and frustrated. Joe opens his eyes, has to see Nick’s wounded little face, eyebrows scrunched together like he’s in pain, hips rocking faster and faster until he’s losing his rhythm, chasing his own need and the whole thing, the whole picture makes Joe crazy, pushes him over the edge.
He whimpers into Nick’s mouth as he starts to come. Nick grabs his head and kisses him harder, deeper, wilder, bucking against him as Joe shudders through his orgasm. His come is intense, a slow, throbbing pulse that shocks him and makes him jolt up against Nick one, two, three times. Their mouths stay pressed together as Joe settles, swollen lips sucking sweet kisses in between gasps of oh god and so good.
Eventually Nick’s hips stutter to a stop, and Joe trails his good hand down in between Nick’s legs, feels at him there, all hard and trapped in his jeans. “Want help with this?” Joe asks, slurring the words a little.
Nick takes awhile to respond as Joe rubs at him with his thumb, but eventually he shakes his head and pushes Joe’s hand away. “Nah,” he says, still a little breathless. “My right hand works just fine.” He smirks when he says it, but Joe sees right through him, knows what he’s trying to do.
“Yeah, but I could use my mouth,” Joe says with a grin, and Nick just stares at him for a long moment. Nick wants it, Joe knows it, can see it pouring off of him, but he’s not ready. They’ve already pushed too many boundaries today. He’ll have to leave Nick to his right hand and his memories for now. “Maybe next time,” Joe says softly, reaching out and thumbing at Nick’s cheek. “Or if you ever break your wrist.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nick says, voice cracking a little as he turns away, tries to subtly adjust himself in his jeans. He doesn’t say anything about a next time, not that Joe expected any different.
“Hey Nick?” Joe fixes his brother with a lazy, sated smile. “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” he says, and he doesn’t even mean it as a sleazy joke or anything. Nick blushes anyways and Joe is never going to stop thinking that’s adorable. “Know what I could really use right now though?”
Nick raises his eyebrows as he fusses with his hair in the mirror. “What’s that?”
“A sponge bath,” Joe says, scratching at his stomach. “And definitely some clean underwear.”
Nick snorts. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says with an exaggerated eye-roll.
“Know what you could really use right now?” Joe clambers up out of the chair and wraps his arms around his brother from behind, squeezes his narrow waist and watches him fondly in the mirror. “A cheeseburger,” he says decisively.
Nick looks thoughtful. “I- actually, yeah. A cheeseburger would be awesome right now.”
Joe grins and kisses Nick behind his ear. “And some chili fries?”
Nick barks out a surprised laugh, looks up at Joe through their reflection. “You trying to fatten me up or something?”
“Or something,” Joe agrees with a sigh. “I like taking care of you too, you know.”
“I know,” Nick says, looking down. “You really think I’m too skinny?”
Joe smiles and hums a dorky little tune. He grabs Nick’s wrist with his good hand and makes Nick do a bizarre little puppet-dance. “My anaconda Don’t. Want. None. Unless you’ve Got. Buns. Hon,” he raps, marveling when Nick busts out into full-on giggles.
THE END
Recipient: myjadedhavok
Title: I often kiss you when there’s no one else around
Characters: Joe Jonas, Nick Jonas
Pairings: Joe/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,000
Spoilers: None
Warnings: See pairing. M/m incest, underage.
Disclaimer: None of this is real! SADLY.
A/N: To myjadedhavok: I hope you like it!
Summary: Joe breaks his wrist right before the holiday and their hard-won month off. Nick takes care of him, doing all the little things Joe can’t do comfortably for himself with a bum right-arm.
The Request: myjadedhavok requested “anything to do with Joe and Nick's epic love for one another and some plot with the porn.”
I often kiss you when there’s no one else around
“Just hold still,” Nick huffs as Joe squirms in the chair. “Otherwise I’ll get it in your eyes.”
Joe tries to hold still, but the cold marble is digging in to the back of his neck and his arm is throbbing and everything is awful.
“I- I can’t. I- Can you get me a pillow or something to sit on? My neck is killing me,” Joe complains.
Having a broken wrist sucks. Joe is always uncomfortable, even when he’s lying completely still. And the makeshift hair-washing station they’ve set up in the upstairs bathroom is functional, sure, but it’s a long way from comfy.
Even though Joe knows he’s being insufferable, Nick doesn’t roll his eyes or lose his patience, not even once. He just does his best to make Joe comfortable, to make the best out of a bad situation. “Yeah, hang on,” he says. His hands are wet, arms covered in bubbles up to the elbow, but he just shakes them off over the sink so as not to drip water all over the floor. As he does, his ring slides right off his finger and hits the tile with a cling!
“You’re too skinny,” Joe says. He runs his good hand along Nick’s side and frowns, feeling at Nick’s waist with the back of his knuckles. Lately every time Joe prods at Nick’s body he feels sort of like the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel, blindly feeling around for Nick’s delicious softness and only getting chicken-bone for his trouble.
Nick chuckles and wipes a soapy hand across his forehead. A few bubbles cling to the curls around his face. “I’m just soapy,” he says, and bends over to pick up his ring from the floor. As he does, his v-neck t-shirt rides up, exposing Nick’s hip and his Omnipod to Joe’s critical eye. Nick’s jeans stay in place, held fast to his waist by his belt, but Joe can see the slack in the denim where there previously was none.
“These are big on you,” Joe points out, tugging at the pocket of Nick’s jeans.
“They’re just stretched out. I haven’t washed them in a few days.”
“Nick,” Joe says, using his very best big brother voice. Don’t mess with me, he means.
His tone is serious enough that Nick stops, turns to face him and gives him an affectionate smile. “I’m fine, Joe,” he says. He tugs up his shirt and slouches, so that his barely-there baby fat makes a neat little roll. “See?” he says, and pokes at his tummy.
Joe is momentarily distracted by the faint little trail of hair that runs from Nick’s navel to the waist of his jeans. He reaches out, meaning to pinch at Nick’s belly but instead just ends up stroking at the soft skin there. Nick’s stomach flutters and clenches under his touch. “Take your shirt off,” Joe says, voice low.
Nick huffs out a laugh. “Joe,” he says, like a gentle reprimand. You’re pushing it, he means.
“You’re not eating enough,” Joe says seriously. “I know you’re excited about taking over the world and everything, but it’s all for nothing if you don’t-”
“If I don’t take care of myself,” Nick parrots, turning and giving Joe an amused grin. “I am taking care of myself. I promise.” He rests a damp hand on the shoulder of Joe’s good arm. “But right now I’m taking care of you, for once. So just,” he inhales and looks towards the ceiling, choosing his words carefully. “Just put a sock in it,” he says with a crooked smile, reminding Joe just how young his baby brother really is. “I’ll be right back.”
Joe sighs and lifts his head up, sits upright in the chair. Water drips all over his shoulders but being wet feels better than having neck cramps.
“Lift up,” Nick coaxes, back at his side, tapping at Joe’s hips. He pushes a pillow under Joe’s butt and asks, “How’s that?”
Joe wiggles on the pillow and leans his head back, straining for the sink with his neck. “Better,” he grits, because it is better, but it still stinks.
“Again,” Nick orders, and pushes a second pillow under Joe’s hips. His eyes catch on Joe’s thighs as he pushes himself up again, and Joe feels that momentary twinge of insecurity that always pops up when he catches Nick looking at him in that quiet, careful Nick-way. Joe’s fit; he takes good care of himself, works out, eats right. But he’s got these thick thighs, like a woman’s, and Nick- Nick just doesn’t. Nick’s all lean and boyish, even when he’s not skinny like he is now.
“Better?” Nick asks. This time it actually is better, and Joe sighs as he relaxes his neck. “One more,” Nick says, only this time he slides a rolled-up towel behind Joe’s neck, creating a cushion right where Joe’s neck is hitting the hard back of the chair and the edge of the sink.
“Mmm,” Joe hums happily, forgetting about his big thighs, his skinny brother and his bum arm for a sweet moment. “Perfect.”
Nick hums and reapplies himself to the task at hand. He uses a glass to pour the warm water over Joe’s head, stroking it away from his face as he does it. Joe lets his eyes fall closed, enjoying Nick’s gentle touch. It’s a rare treat, what with Nick always reminding Joe where the boundaries of their interactions should be, to have Nick so close, so tactile. It feels so nice that Joe almost wants to purr, to lean into Nick’s touch more than he should, but he doesn’t want to risk alerting Nick to the fact that they’re skirting a danger zone.
“Quit moving,” Nick says softly when Joe leans turns his head briefly to nuzzle at the inside of Nick’s forearm as it swipes across his face. “Just sit still. I’ve got you.”
“Yessir,” Joe quips, just to watch Nick’s cheeks flush a nice, cheery shade of pink. He’s too easy.
For a fleeting moment Joe is thankful for his shattered wrist, for giving him moments like this, quiet in the bathroom, alone with Nick’s hands on him. It just feels really good.
“It’s going to suck when you’re not here,” Joe says before he can think better of it. It’s his job to be supportive of Nick’s dreams, of his career, but both of those things are taking Nick away from him so it’s kind of tough to remember to put on his happy face these days.
Nick bites his lip against the smile threatening to break his intense-concentration face. “The cast will be off in two weeks,” he says, poking Joe in the nose and leaving a cluster of bubbles behind. “You’ll be washing your own hair in no time.”
“Yeah, well. I’m going to miss you,” Joe blurts out. “Even when I’m not washing my hair.”
Nick raises an eyebrow at him and snorts. “Wow. You should write for Hallmark. No wonder you get all the girls.”
“Yeah?” Joe grins up at Nick with a knowing look on his face. “Am I making your heart go pitter-patter, Nicholas?”
“Obviously,” Nick says drily.
They’re quiet for a bit after that, just the rush of the water and the soft crunching noise of Nick working the shampoo through Joe’s hair with his fingers. When Nick shifts a certain way, Joe gets a peek at the hair under Nick’s arms through the gap in his t-shirt sleeve; a twist and he can breathe in Nick’s smell, this intense little man scent of sweat and deodorant and soap. Another move and Joe can see the freckle on the inside of Nick’s elbow, a lone mark on the underside of his arm where there is no tan, just soft, new skin. Nick is dark, just like the rest of them, but strangely enough he has baby-fine blond hairs on his forearms, so light they’re nearly clear. Joe takes it all in, marvels at the ways in which Nick is so different from anyone else.
Joe relaxes and exhales against Nick’s skin as he runs his fingers through Joe’s hair and rinses the soap out. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but somehow a soft, whimpering noise escapes Joe’s mouth. It’s quiet enough in the bathroom for the sound to surprise both Joe and Nick. Joe cracks opens his eyes and Nick slows his hands, checks to make sure his brother’s not hurting. He immediately looks down at Joe’s body, like he needs to make sure Joe’s bad wrist is not in an awkward position.
It’s not.
What is awkward is Joe’s dick, all filled up stiff and hot and unapologetic, pushing his track pants into a tent up over his crotch. He’s not sure exactly when he got hard, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. All he can do is watch Nick flush and dart his eyes back to Joe’s face, fingers still frozen in Joe’s hair. Joe immediately shuts his eyes, tries to pretend he’s just chilling in the chair instead of getting turned on by his brother.
“Joe?” Nick asks, keeping his voice quiet.
“Mmm?”
There’s a pause, and then Nick asks, “You- want me to stop?”
Joe shakes his head slowly because although he could completely understand why Nick might want to stop, might want to leave him in the bathroom until the problem subsides, the truth of the matter is that no, he does not want Nick to stop. “Nnn, nnn,” he says. “Feels good.”
Nick laughs nervously. “I, yeah. I can see that.”
Joe’s eyes flutter open against his will and he sees Nick’s cheeks turn even pinker. He curls his neck up a bit, takes a peek down his own body. Nick strangely holds his head up for him, still taking care of him like a good brother. Always so attentive. “Right,” Joe says, voice cracking a bit. “Sorry.”
Nick just waits for a moment, one hand cradling Joe’s head and the other hanging limply, dripping soapy water onto the tile.
“It’s not like I can-” Joe mumbles and trails off. He shrugs the shoulder where the cast is covering the better part of his right arm. He hasn’t been able to properly jack off since the accident. Everything about his left hand feels wrong.
Nick gapes and lets out a surprised little, “Oh!” Just in case getting hard in front of your brother isn’t embarrassing enough, there’s always the masturbation discussion to kick things up a notch. “That sucks,” Nick says.
“Is there conditioner?” Joe says, changing the subject. Also, he’d very much like the hair-washing to continue.
Nick forces himself to look away from where Joe’s dick is still pushing against the soft material of his pants. “Uh, yeah.”
Joe closes his eyes again as Nick rubs the conditioner into his hair. He goes slowly, and Joe watches him quietly. He can see that Nick’s trying to focus on Joe’s head, but he keeps sneaking glances at Joe’s dick. Nick’s probably never seen anyone’s dick that hard, not even his own, really, because he wouldn’t just leave his own dick poking up against his pants without adjusting himself. Joe’s seen Nick pop one on more than a few occasions, but he’s always really discreet about it, taking care of it quickly. Anyone but Joe probably wouldn’t even notice, but Joe can always tell when it happens to Nick. And he knows when Nick has to take things in hand, so to speak. He can always tell when Nick’s just rubbed one out. Something about the way his body relaxes that almost looks out of place, just for a few minutes. Also, Joe can smell it on him and has said so on a couple of occasions, just to watch Nick blush.
Nick pours warm water through Joe’s hair again, taking care not to get any on his face. He pushes forward, leaning down over Joe so that his dog tag drags against Joe’s chin.
“Sorry,” Nick says, and it’s nothing more than a whisper. Joe’s not sure what he’s sorry about, but then Nick leans over further, crowding over Joe’s face so that he can get at the hair at the very back of Joe’s neck. He rubs there with his thumbs, ostensibly rinsing out the conditioner residue.
Before Joe can fully process what’s happening, Nick is shoving closer still, pushing one knee up onto the seat of the chair, in between Joe’s thighs, and leaning further over the sink. The vee of his t-shirt is hanging low, giving Joe a clear view of his bare chest. Any thought Joe had of protesting is wiped away when he gets a glimpse at Nick’s pink, puffy nipple, pointing down at him while Nick’s arm moves back and forth against Joe’s scalp.
Nick leans across him further, grabbing the glass and refilling it, pouring more warm water against Joe’s head, tucking it behind Joe’s ears. He stumbles slightly, has to grab onto Joe’s shoulder for balance, and scoots his knee further up on the seat of the chair until he’s pressed quite meaningfully against Joe’s crotch. It’s a clumsy attempt at seduction, one that Joe is amazed to be the recipient of.
“Uh,” Nick says, clearing his throat. “Can you lift your head just a little? So I can get the back?” His voice is rough, hoarse and low in a way that Joe has only heard a handful of times in their lives.
Joe can’t bring himself to respond verbally; all of his brain cells are focused on the press of Nick’s sturdy little thigh pressed nice and tight to his dick. He just leans his head up, doesn’t take his eyes off of Nick’s face.
“That’s it,” Nick says, encouraging him. He massages his wet fingers into Joe’s crown and presses forward one more time.
Joe doesn’t need another hint.
He wraps his good arm around Nick’s lower back and tugs, pulling Nick flush against him. Nick’s risen up on his knee, so he ends up pressing his hips against Joe’s chest, his soft little belly pushing right up into Joe’s face.
“Unff,” Nick breathes out, surprised. Joe doesn’t miss a beat, rubbing his face right up against Nick’s middle, nuzzling the hem of his t-shirt up so that he can rub his coarse, unshaven jaw right against where Nick is softest, most vulnerable. “Oh!” Nick gasps, shrinking back for a moment, tucking his stomach away from Joe’s rough touch.
“Shhh, c’mere,” Joe murmurs, pulls Nick back against him and rubs his mouth at the sensitive skin under Nick’s bellybutton. Nick rocks forward ever so slightly, pressing his hips up enough that Joe can’t miss the obvious bulge in Nick’s jeans before he slides down, crumpling onto Joe’s lap, letting his knees fall to the outside of Joe’s legs. The pressure of Nick’s weight, of Nick’s sweet little rump pressing against his dick is enough to force a groan from Joe. He grasps at Nick’s waist with his good hand, steadying him and holding him down at the same time.
“L-let me,” Nick says and Joe just thinks, yes yes yes. Nick rocks up for a moment, lifting his hips so he can reach the towel he’d set by the sink earlier. He moves with purpose, letting his weight press and drag against Joe’s erection as he shifts forward and up. Joe stares at him, wide-eyed and stunned, as Nick wraps the towel around Joe’s neck and proceeds to rub the excess water from his hair.
“Nick,” he rasps and tugs on Nick’s belt loops.
Nick’s eyes dart down quickly at Joe’s face, down to his mouth, back up again. His cheeks are splotched with red but his expression is steady, quietly confident. “I’ve got you,” Nick says softly and lowers his hips back down onto Joe’s, pressing down and rocking with just the right amount of pressure.
“Ohhhh,” Joe groans on an exhale. He tucks his face into Nick’s shoulder and wraps both arms around Nick’s back, holding him down as best he can with the stupid cast in the way. There’s no universe that Joe thought he’d ever exist in where this was a possibility, where Nick would give him this willingly. And yet somehow it’s happening, Nick rocking back and forth on his lap, moving in an unpracticed rhythm that’s driving Joe insane with want.
“Are you-? Is this-?” Nick stutters, hot breath in Joe’s ear.
“So good,” Joe breathes, and then bites at the skin low on Nick’s neck. Nick arches for him, giving him room and tacit permission to take, and Joe does, biting again, harder. He wants to leave a mark, so that when this fever dissipates and Nick leaves for Tennessee, leaves Joe behind, he won’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen. He needs Nick to remember this, to feel him when he’s not there.
“Oh!” Nick cries out, twisting away from Joe’s vicious teeth. “Don’t,” he breathes, but it’s a weak protest, further undermined by the solid outline of his thick little dick in his jeans.
The creaking of the chair and the noise of their breath coming fast and loud echo against the cold marble tile, making everything seem overloud and obvious. Nick’s hips shift and press, shift and press and Joe wants so much, wants to feel Nick through his pants, wants to shove up against Nick, wants to fuck Nick, oh Christ he does, so much.
“Unngh,” he groans, biting back the words, twisting his face up to keep it all in as he unravels under his brother. His baby brother, with his perfect skin, his soft young belly, his angular handsome face, his tender pink nipples, his tight broad shoulders, his fat red mouth. “Wanna,” Joe gasps, and then bites at his tongue harder, shakes his head.
Nick slips his arms around Joe’s neck, holding him close. His cheeks are hectic, flushed with color, and the curls around his face are damp with sweat. “What do you need? Tell me what you need,” he pants, words breaking on every punch of Joe’s hips against his own. He wipes one hand through Joe’s hair, slicking it back and then digging his thick fingers in and tugging. “Love you,” he whispers, bending down and pressing his forehead against Joe’s. The gesture is so familiar, so comfortable and so Nick that Joe feels something in his chest ache.
He nudges his face up, pressing his mouth against Nick’s nose and takes a shuddering breath. “K-kiss me,” he says. “C’mon.”
Nick gasps, stupidly shocked for a moment, face scrunching up into this tragic mess, mouth dropping open and pulling away.
“Please,” Joe asks, begs. He’s right there, so close and this is all he really wants, all he’s wanted for so long, longer than he’s even realized. “Please, Nick. S-so close.”
Nick leans closer but not close enough so Joe strains up, struggles to press their mouths together. For a moment they’re just breathing the same air, lips bumping and mouths knocking but not kissing, but then Nick gives in, nods shakily and licks his lips. In an instant Joe is crashing against him like a bull, frantic and uncoordinated and desperate. He can’t keep quiet, can’t control anything beyond how crazy-good it is to finally taste Nick’s mouth, bite at his lips, suck on his tongue.
Nick whines into his brother’s mouth, all turned on and frustrated. Joe opens his eyes, has to see Nick’s wounded little face, eyebrows scrunched together like he’s in pain, hips rocking faster and faster until he’s losing his rhythm, chasing his own need and the whole thing, the whole picture makes Joe crazy, pushes him over the edge.
He whimpers into Nick’s mouth as he starts to come. Nick grabs his head and kisses him harder, deeper, wilder, bucking against him as Joe shudders through his orgasm. His come is intense, a slow, throbbing pulse that shocks him and makes him jolt up against Nick one, two, three times. Their mouths stay pressed together as Joe settles, swollen lips sucking sweet kisses in between gasps of oh god and so good.
Eventually Nick’s hips stutter to a stop, and Joe trails his good hand down in between Nick’s legs, feels at him there, all hard and trapped in his jeans. “Want help with this?” Joe asks, slurring the words a little.
Nick takes awhile to respond as Joe rubs at him with his thumb, but eventually he shakes his head and pushes Joe’s hand away. “Nah,” he says, still a little breathless. “My right hand works just fine.” He smirks when he says it, but Joe sees right through him, knows what he’s trying to do.
“Yeah, but I could use my mouth,” Joe says with a grin, and Nick just stares at him for a long moment. Nick wants it, Joe knows it, can see it pouring off of him, but he’s not ready. They’ve already pushed too many boundaries today. He’ll have to leave Nick to his right hand and his memories for now. “Maybe next time,” Joe says softly, reaching out and thumbing at Nick’s cheek. “Or if you ever break your wrist.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nick says, voice cracking a little as he turns away, tries to subtly adjust himself in his jeans. He doesn’t say anything about a next time, not that Joe expected any different.
“Hey Nick?” Joe fixes his brother with a lazy, sated smile. “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” he says, and he doesn’t even mean it as a sleazy joke or anything. Nick blushes anyways and Joe is never going to stop thinking that’s adorable. “Know what I could really use right now though?”
Nick raises his eyebrows as he fusses with his hair in the mirror. “What’s that?”
“A sponge bath,” Joe says, scratching at his stomach. “And definitely some clean underwear.”
Nick snorts. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says with an exaggerated eye-roll.
“Know what you could really use right now?” Joe clambers up out of the chair and wraps his arms around his brother from behind, squeezes his narrow waist and watches him fondly in the mirror. “A cheeseburger,” he says decisively.
Nick looks thoughtful. “I- actually, yeah. A cheeseburger would be awesome right now.”
Joe grins and kisses Nick behind his ear. “And some chili fries?”
Nick barks out a surprised laugh, looks up at Joe through their reflection. “You trying to fatten me up or something?”
“Or something,” Joe agrees with a sigh. “I like taking care of you too, you know.”
“I know,” Nick says, looking down. “You really think I’m too skinny?”
Joe smiles and hums a dorky little tune. He grabs Nick’s wrist with his good hand and makes Nick do a bizarre little puppet-dance. “My anaconda Don’t. Want. None. Unless you’ve Got. Buns. Hon,” he raps, marveling when Nick busts out into full-on giggles.
THE END