Fic: What lies beneath (Joe/Nick, NC-17)
Title: What lies beneath
Pairing: Joe/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jonas Brothers, real-person slash, underage (Nick is 16) m/m incest. A-again. Also some mild bondage and d/s overtones. Undertones? Tones.
Word Count: 7,100
Summary: A first-time fic with handcuffs as the catalyst?
Disclaimer: This definitely did not happen. And as much as I wanted her to, and as helpful as she was, 2oclockcheckout did not write the porn. There is nobody to blame for this ridiculousness other than me.
What lies beneath
Every day the sound check costumes get just a little weirder. It’s always Joe who picks them out, and it’s always Nick who refuses to play along, rolling his eyes with a fond exasperation as Joe and sometimes Kevin make asses out of themselves in front of a small group of screaming girls and their patiently amused parents.
Joe doesn’t choose the costumes to please the girls. He knows he looks ridiculous dressed up as a moose or a cow, but it’s all worth it when Nick first sets eyes on him, grins and shakes his head. So far, Joe hasn’t been able to truly startle Nick, or to elicit any reaction stronger than a delighted chuckle, but he knows the perfect costume is out there, somewhere.
When they arrive in Phoenix, Joe drags Nick with him to the costume shop. Nick’s been quiet lately, but Joe knows he’ll be able to light him up with a bald cap and a fake mustache in about ten seconds.
Everyone is always joking about how serious Nick is, but Joe knows it’s really pretty easy to get his baby brother to smile. You just need to know the right way to do it. And Joe does. Or if he doesn’t, he’ll figure it out by process of elimination. It just takes persistence and a special kind of creativity that pretty much only Joe has.
“What about this?”
Joe poses, shirtless, with the ratty torn leopard print costume slung over one shoulder and a headband on that makes it look like there’s a bone going through his head. He’s holding a plastic club in one hand, and he’s got on these over-sized rubber feet that make him look like a Hobbit.
Nick’s forehead stays smooth as he looks away.
Joe whistles and shakes his head. “Not even a second glance.”
“I think a cave man is pretty un-PC,” Nick says, turning back to rifle through the costumes. “If you wear that, some gossip rag will accuse you of being a misogynist or something.”
Joe looks down at himself and scrunches up his nose. "A what? A massage gymnast?"
"No, like, a cave man. Like an old-fashioned dude who clubs ladies on the head and stuff."
"But I'm supposed to be a cave man. I'm not a symbolic caveman. I'm an actual caveman."
Nick shrugs like he knows everything. "It's not cool," he says simply.
“Can’t have that,” Joe grumbles, and heads back into the dressing room.
A few minutes later, Joe re-emerges in a white mini-dress, an old-fashioned nurses’ hat, fishnet stockings and white pumps. He’s got something stuffed down his top to look like boobs, but they’re all lumpy and the ‘sexy-nurse’ effect is not really working.
He hobbles over to where Nick is standing, flicking through the gag gifts, and loops the cord of his stethoscope around Nick’s neck. He drops his voice and pulls his brother close. “Hey, McDreamy," Joe says huskily. “Can I check your temperature?" He gives Nick a lewd wink and a nudge.
Nick looks up, chuckles, and then goes back to checking out the fake dog turd.
Joe pouts. “No?” he asks. “Really?”
“Your love is like bad medicine, Joe,” Nick says drily.
Joe huffs and flounces back into the changing room.
They finally settle on a black and white striped old-school prison uniform. Nick says it’s kind of Jailhouse Rock, but Joe’s getting more of a Hamburgler vibe from it, which is cool with him. Cooler, even.
When Joe hits the mini-stage in the Glendale arena in his costume, he’s added a set of handcuffs that dangle from his right wrist. They kind of get in the way when he’s rocking the tambourine, but Joe decides they were a good call as far as accessories go when he catches Nick staring four times during the fifteen minute sound check.
* * *
It’s not until they arrive in San Antonio a couple of days later that Nick asks. They’re in a dark, dusty costume shop and Nick’s working pretty hard at pretending not to pay attention to Joe.
His voice breaks when he says, “So, where did you get those handcuffs the other night?”
Joe grins behind the curtain of the changing room.
“What do you mean?” he says, all innocence. “They’re mine.”
He pushes the curtain aside and Nick laughs on an inhale and chokes a little.
“Batman!” Joe yells, and swishes his cape melodramatically.
Nick doesn’t bring up the handcuffs again, but Joe can tell he’s intrigued. And that’s a good thing, because it means Nick’s attention is focused on Joe, rather than on the crap game of softball they’d played in the morning.
At the sound check, Kevin wears a green wig and red lipstick, Garbo plays the bass line to the old Batman series theme song and all the girls sing along. Nick cracks a smile, but it’s not really the reaction Joe was looking for.
He'll have to try again.
* * *
In Atlanta, Nick’s being pissy and Joe just can’t crack the code. It’s brutally hot, and Joe can’t deal with the drama, so he drags Kevin along to the costume shop this time.
It’s not as much fun, because Kevin’s really enthusiastic about pretty much every single costume Joe tries on. Also, Kevin tries on lots of costumes and keeps asking Joe for his opinion. It gets old pretty fast, so Joe just rents a cop costume. It's pretty lame, but he figures he'll have an excuse to wear his aviators and yell, "RESPECT MAH AUTHORATAH!" as much as he wants.
Before the soundcheck starts, he hooks the handcuffs to his belt and pastes on a Magnum P.I. mustache.
Nick stumbles up the steps to the stage, Joe catching him with one arm as he loses his balance. "Easy there, mister," Joe says in his cop-voice. "Wouldn't wanna have to cuff ya. Might interfere with your that there guitar playin'." There's no good reason why Joe's cop-voice sounds more like Billy Ray Cyrus, but Joe figures the key to pulling it off is the cop-attitude. He holds Nick's arm behind his back and kind of shoves him up onto the stage a little, like Nick's a bad guy and Joe's gonna put him away.
Girls are cheering and JT plays a few riffs of something vaguely familiar when they finally all get on stage, but Joe can't focus on anything other than the hot, flushed skin on Nick's neck, and they way Nick distinctly hadn't struggled when Joe was holding him back.
* * *
When Joe gets in that night after a late dinner with Jordin and her girls, Nick's still up, frowning at his laptop and looking way too intense for a night off. He doesn't even look up when Joe closes the door and says, "Heyyyyy it's old Saint Nick." And Nick usually hates being called that.
It's been, oh, probably three days since Joe's earned a real, full-on smile from Nick. Or even a shout. Nick's just been moody and stressed out and the only time he's really broken out of that funk was when Joe played cops n' robbers with him, so he figures he'll try it again. He grabs the handcuffs from his bag and jangles them around.
"Oh Niiiiiick," he sing-songs.
Nick looks up, right away, face gone blank, eyes drawn directly to the cuffs. Interesting.
Joe walks over to where Nick is sitting and smiles widely. "Give me your hand," he says.
"No," Nick says, firmly but quietly, and he raises his eyebrows like his interest has been piqued.
"Give me your hand," Joe says again, holding up the cuffs. Just in case Nick wasn't sure what he meant before. "I wanna try something."
"No," Nick says again, same quiet, sure voice. Nick doesn't take his eyes away from Joe's face though, so it feels like he's playing along. Joe keeps his hand out, like if he just waits long enough Nick will change his mind.
He doesn't.
"Tell me what you want to try," Nick says.
Joe sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, pretends to turn away. Then, in what he thinks is a ninja-like flash, he pounces on Nick and wrangles him out of the chair, grabbing at Nick's arms and trying to slap the cuffs on him. Nick fights back this time, shoving at Joe and spinning him around until somehow Nick has Joe's hands behind Joe's back, handcuffs dangling uselessly from one of Joe's wrists.
"Tell me-" Nick starts, but Joe slips one hand out of Nick's grasp and he wiggles around, trying to break free.
This is good, Joe thinks. Maybe what Nick needs is a little exercise. They've both been lifting this summer so it'll be an even tussle. He gets one arm around Nick's neck and pushes his head down, but Nick is too quick, ducks right under him and around, grabbing Joe's wrist and hugging him in a violent bear hug.
"Gotcha," Nick says, barricading Joe in with his legs. He fights Joe's hand back behind his back so that he's got them both pinned there. The move gets Nick pressed up against Joe so tightly that Joe can feel Nick's heart pounding from the sudden exertion. This is definitely good, and although Joe is basically completely restrained at this point, he's still squirming around, determined to cuff Nick to something, even if that something is himself.
Despite Joe's best efforts, Nick holds him still, holds him so close that Joe gets distracted, forgets to struggle in favor of watching Nick go all warm and pretty from the fight. He's a little sweaty and he's breathing fast, cheeks flushed from the burst of activity.
"Tell me what you want to try," Nick says, panting. Joe takes comfort in the fact that Nick's a little winded. At least he wasn't easy to pin.
Joe struggles a little more, energy momentarily renewed, but Nick just hugs him tight, arms wrapped around Joe's, chests pressed together, holding Joe still.
"Sshh, c'mon," Nick says, like he's soothing Joe.
And the weird thing is that it is kind of soothing. He's got Nick wrapped all around him, focused on him, not being a little douche like he'd been all week, and the combination makes Joe feel like he can finally relax.
"That's it," Nick says as Joe settles. "Easy."
Eventually Joe stills completely, letting his head rest against Nick's, faces mashed together at the cheek. His shoulders ache a little; it's not exactly comfortable, the way Nick has him restrained, but he finds that when he stops pulling and just lets his arms go slack in Nick's grip, it feels kind of like being held up instead of being held down.
Joe's not fighting Nick anymore, but Nick presses closer still, for some reason. "Tell me what you wanted to try," Nick says again, heat pouring off of him, making Joe sweat in sympathy.
Joe barely remembers what he was going for. He's just sort of floating now, suspended in Nick's arms. This is what he really wanted: Nick's full, focused attention. It almost doesn't matter how he was planning on getting it, but- oh, yeah.
"I wanted to cuff you," Joe says plainly.
Nick sucks in a harsh breath and pushes closer to Joe, bracketing Joe's legs with his own. "Yeah?" he breathes, and Joe nods, feeling something go all dippy in his stomach. He looks up at Nick, stares at the way Nick's face has gone all flushed - not only his cheeks but his mouth too, all red and puffy like he's been biting at it. He barely even registers when Nick's mouth puckers and then relaxes, sighing out, "Why?"
"I- I don't know," Joe says eventually, shrugging. "I thought it would be fun."
And yeah, maybe that really was it, some uncomplicated impulse Joe had out of nowhere, but now that he thinks it over, this is exactly what Nick needs. To be held back, held down, forced to stop worrying about things he can't control. Heck, even getting Nick to acknowledge that there are things he can't control would be a step in the right direction.
Nick hums and lets go of one of Joe's arms, and then the click of the cuffs snap around his other wrist, binding the two together.
"Aw," Joe begins to protest, but Nick shushes him again.
"Is it fun?" Nick's voice is soft, low like he's asking for real, like he's genuinely curious.
And the thing is, yeah, it's pretty nice being here like this. With Nick. Joe nods and pushes his face into Nick's neck, letting himself just drape all over his brother in a way that he's usually not allowed to. He thinks about what Nick would allow himself to do if the tables were turned and the cuffs on the other set of wrists.
"It's- kinda," Joe says, mouth brushing against Nick's hot skin as he pretends to struggle with his words. "I- I can't really explain it. You- you should just let me show you."
Nick snorts and shakes his head, pretending to laugh it off as he pushes Joe away, but Joe knows he's on to something.
"What?" Joe asks, all innocent as he wiggles around in the cuffs until he triggers the clasp and they fall to the carpet with a dull clink-clink. "Here, just, just give me your hands," he says, grabbing for Nick's arm.
Nick twists away, laughing, and yeah, this is almost as good as what Joe was going for. Nick's all loose and flushed and maybe not quite relaxed but he's stopped worrying about the weight of the world for a few minutes, and Joe's good with that.
* * *
The thing about Nick wearing tank tops is that it makes Joe think about Nick's armpits. He can't not think about Nick's armpits when Nick's armpits are right there, flashing at him with every odd gesture Nick makes. So the next time Nick lifts his arm to hoist his bag up further up on his shoulder, Joe just jabs his hand right in there and tickles.
"Aaah! J-Joe! Don't!"
Nick's convulsing with laughter, squirming away at even the lightest touch. Joe grins and digs in, grabbing Nick by the waist and pressing his fingers deep into that tickliest spot under Nick's arm.
"S-s-stop," Nick barely gets out in between giggles. "S-stop, or I swear-"
"What are you gonna do," Joe taunts, "huh, tough guy?" He drags Nick backwards onto the couch, letting Nick fall over his lap and tumble all soft-eyed and breathless into the cushions.
Nick swats at his hands, preventing a further armpit attack while trying to catch his breath. "Such a jerk," Nick pants out. "You're like a huge, hairy child; you know that?"
Joe smiles innocently. "I think I'm more like a strong, hungry horse," he muses. He fits one hand just above Nick's knee and goes, "Chomp, chomp, chomp!", squeezing and tickling until Nick's laughing so hard he can't even talk.
Nick is kicking and shoving at Joe, but every time he manages to get some air in his lungs he lets out a loud ha ha ha sound that makes Joe just want to tickle him forever. He barely even notices Kevin and Danielle coming into the living room until Kevin says, "You're gonna make him pee."
Joe startles and Nick manages to squirm away, still laughing so hard it's actually funny just to watch him. "Woooh," he says, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes. "You- I hate when you do that," he says to Joe around a wide smile.
It's Danielle that interjects then, all sweet and amused. "Oh you love it, Nick."
Nick's still grinning, but he says, "I don't! I hate it when he-"
"Oh, Joe, don't!" Kevin pitches his voice high like a girl, or like a little kid. "Oh! Don't! Stop!" He flaps his arms around like a T-rex.
Joe snickers, but Nick's smile disappears in an instant. "I don't sound like that," Nick says.
"Oh! Joe! I hate it when you tickle me," Kevin trills again, this time bringing the back of his hand to his forehead like a damsel in distress. "Just do it a little more, okay?"
Nick clenches his jaw and glares around the room. "Whatever," he says, like the teenager he so rarely remembers to be. He sits up on the couch and grabs the remote control. "Yankees are on."
Joe can read the tension in Nick's neck and shoulders, and he wants to hug it right out of him, but he knows Nick's too prickly now. He looks over at Kevin with a sour face but Kevin just says, "Oooh, Yankees are on?" and settles in on Nick's other side to watch the game.
Joe watches Nick, sees the hard set of his mouth and the way he's sitting, ramrod straight on the couch. He wishes Kevin would stop making Nick feel bad about letting go every now and then, but it's not the kind of thing they'd talk about.
It's Joe's job to get Nick to unravel a little. He sits back on the couch, throws a casual arm around Nick's shoulders and devises a plan.
* * *
He waits until Nick's finally asleep, worn out from the show and the humming of the bus engine. Nick's always been a heavy sleeper - he doesn't sleep much, but when he's out, he's pretty much down for the count.
He's sprawled out on his bunk in just the right way; Joe couldn't have planned it any better, really. He has to stop and stare for a good long couple of minutes before doing anything.
Even with his arms akimbo, t-shirt rucked up and basketball shorts twisted around his hips, Nick appears to be ridiculously composed. His breathing is in a perfect cadence, soft snores buzzing out right on tempo. His breathing doesn't even hitch once when Joe climbs on top of him, straddling Nick's hips and curving his hands around Nick's wrists.
The first cuff clicks shut easily, but Joe knew one would be easy. He holds his breath as he gently lifts Nick's other arm above his head, so that his hands are together. Nick breathes out loudly through his mouth, but his eyes don't open. Joe keeps absolutely still anyway, just in case. His chest aches from holding his breath, but he's got to get this just right.
He threads the empty cuff around the bunk frame and slowly, ever so slowly, wraps it around Nick's free hand. He smiles and clicks it shut, exhaling noisily. It's done.
He sits back roughly on Nick's lap, wiggles a bit, impatient for Nick to wake up and find himself cuffed to the bunk. Nick snuffles a bit and tugs one of his arms a little, enough to rattle the metal of the cuffs, but he doesn't wake up.
It's- annoying. It's annoying is what it is. All of this build up, all of this care, finding the perfect moment and constructing a plan, and Joe was expecting some major payout. He wants to see Nick sputtering and griping and yelling. Wants it now, now while they're on their bus alone, and nobody is going to come reprimand him for being foolish, nobody's going to make him uncuff his brother, nobody's going to ruin it like Kevin.
But Nick's just not cooperating. Which is so typical that Joe laughs out loud for a moment, shaking his head at his own silly idea that anything with Nick would be easy.
He leans down, gets his face right up close to Nick's. Stares. Stares in a way he never can when Nick's awake. He takes in the downy blond hairs on Nick's jaw, sees how they turn progressively darker as they trail up to his sparse sideburns, and then turn into thick, dark, messy curls over his ears. Nick's ears are red, always, even when he's sleeping, it turns out, and there are baby fine blond hairs there, too.
He touches the tip of one finger to the shell of Nick's red little ear, and watches Nick's face for signs of consciousness. He pinches at Nick's earlobe, twists it up so he can check behind, make sure Nick's been washing properly. He digs his fingers into Nick's hair, rubs behind his ears a little roughly, hoping Nick will wake up.
It kind of works.
Nick snorts and shifts a little under Joe, not enough to fully wake up, but enough that Joe can't help but feel how Nick's dick has gone hard against the meat of his thigh.
The idea of it makes Joe's brain stutter a little, go blank. It's- of course it's the best way to get Nick to relax, now that he thinks about it. Of course he needs to get off. Nick's so stressed out all the time, bossing everyone around and needing everything to be perfect that sometimes Joe forgets that Nick is just a teenager still. He's a sixteen year old kid with no ability to have casual hook-ups with girls, given their notoriety, and no girlfriend. He's got to be horny all the time; backed up like crazy.
Joe frowns down at his brother. He probably doesn't even take care of business as often as he should. He wiggles back, spreading his own legs so that Nick's dick is jutting up in between his legs, rather than trapped under him.
Joe just looks for a bit, wonders what Nick is dreaming about that's getting him all worked up like that. because he's really hard, his dick a sharp poke tenting his shorts. He tugs up Nick's t-shirt so he can look at his belly and chest, parts of Nick that he rarely gets to see. Nick's nipples are flushed, pink and stiff, like Joe imagines his cock must be. He slips his hand down and tucks two fingers in the waistband of Nick's shorts and tugs them away from his hips, just to look.
"Mnrwugh," Nick grumbles. "W-whuzuh-"
Joe lets the waistband of Nick's shorts snap back against the pale skin of his hip and says, "Hi there."
"Joe?" Nick's looking at him all confused, eyes only half-way open.
"Yes I am," Joe says, smiling widely.
Nick peers at him and moves to stretch, eyes going wide when he realizes that his hands are trapped. "Wha- oh no," he says in a rush, face scrunching up fast. "Oh no. Take them off." His voice is cold, firm. If Joe wasn't six hundred percent positive that this is exactly what Nick needs, he'd maybe be intimidated a little.
"Nope," Joe says, popping the 'p'.
"I'm not kidding," Nick says, squirming around, pulling on the cuffs as if he could just slip his fat hands right out of them.
"I'm not either," Joe says. "Just relax."
"You relax," Nick bites out stupidly. "Uncuff me. Now."
Joe laughs and leans down, braces himself with his hands on Nick's chest and smiles. "I am relaxed," he says, squeezing at Nick's pecs. "And no."
Nick bucks under him, and Joe can see just how much Nick hates to be touched like this. He's weirdly protective of his own chest and stomach, always keeping covered up. Lying here with his v-neck rucked up under his armpits while Joe digs his fingers into Nick's bare skin must be making Nick insane. Joe grins and plucks at one of Nick's nipples, just to see how Nick will react.
It's almost as if Joe had slapped Nick in the face. Nick goes all red and his mouth drops open, eyes wide with surprise and he cants his torso to one side, as if he could somehow escape another pinch. "Stop!" he yelps out suddenly, after a few seconds have passed.
"Hmm," Joe says, looking thoughtful. "I don't really have to stop, do I?" He plucks at Nick's other nipple, gives it a little twist. "I mean, it's not like you can make me stop, right? You just have to sit here and I can do whatever I want."
He flicks at a nipple again, only this time Nick sucks in a gasp and bites his lip, hard.
Joe raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"
Nick's cheeks go even more blushy and he looks away. His wrists are all red and scraped up where he's rubbed them against the metal. "This is not okay," he finally says, not meeting Joe's eyes. "I am not okay with this."
Joe nods seriously. "Noted," he says. "And I will uncuff you. But first we need to take care of this," he says, and pats at the bulge in Nick's shorts.
Nick whuffs out a squawk and cranes his neck up, like he needs to see, like he can't even tell he's got a raging boner unless there's visual proof. Joe squeezes it through the fabric, and Nick slams his head back into the pillow with a grunt. "JOE," he growls. "Don't-"
"Just be quiet," Joe says, cutting him off. "I'm gonna take care of it." He slips his hands into the sides of Nick's shorts, right above his hipbones, and starts to slide them down along with Nick's briefs.
"W-what?! NO," Nick says, bucking his hips in an attempt to knock Joe off of him. All it does, however, is make it easier for Joe to get his shorts off faster.
Joe smiles. Nick's a smart kid. Maybe he's finally playing along. Because the one thing that is absolutely certain is that Nick's still hard, dick springing up happily once Joe's gotten his shorts down.
Nick looks different from Joe down there, smaller, less hairy, thicker. Even the color is different: Nick's cock is this dusky pink color, gone dark from being so flushed with blood. Joe has to touch, wants to feel it in his hand. Nick squirms and chokes a little, panicking when Joe circles a fist around his swollen prick.
"Sshhh," Joe says. "No wonder you're all boned up." He slides his hand down the length of Nick's dick and down, rubbing gently at his balls. "You need to take some time-"
"Ugh, what, Joe," Nick groans, cutting him off. "I- there's a difference between needing a few days off and needing a-" He trails off when Joe squeezes gently, turning his hot little face into the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.
Joe leans down over Nick, uses his free hand to push Nick's sweat-damp curls back from his frowning face. "You need to come, Nick," he says quietly, right into Nick's ear. He feels a sharp swoop in his own gut at how dirty that sounds, saying that to Nick like this. Making Nick hear it.
He fists Nick's dick in his right hand, holds Nick's head still with his left, and starts to jack his little brother off with nice, slow, firm strokes.
"Augh," Nick grunts out, biting his lip to keep quiet. His arms are pulling at the cuffs almost involuntarily, making the muscles on his arms bulge out. "S-stop," he grits out. "I c-can do this on my own."
Joe grips him harder, kisses at Nick's sweaty temple. "But you don't, do you? You don't get yourself off enough. And when you do, I bet you just do it all quick and businesslike, just to get it over with. I bet you don't do it right." Joe makes a pained face, holds his breath and speeds up his strokes, so he's tugging furious and rough on Nick's cock, like he's angry at it. "I bet you do it like this," he says, voice strained and exaggerated. Nick's stomach convulses like Joe's just punched him, sucking his gut so fast it goes concave.
"Ah! S-s-stop!"
Joe smiles and slows it down, smooths it out. He wants Nick to enjoy it, to get off good. "I'm gonna do it better for you," Joe says. "You're gonna love it."
Nick gasps when Joe twists his hand, opens his eyes wide and chews harder on his red little mouth. "J- ohgod. This-" he breathes out loudly "-this is fucked up." He says the last part in a shocked whisper.
Joe laughs. He leans in close and says, "Nobody can hear you swear, Nicholas. You don't have to hold anything back."
Nick looks pissed off and ashamed, tense and upset, but Joe knows all of these feelings are fleeting. He knows what Nick needs, and he's going to give it to him, the way nobody else can.
"C'mon," Joe whispers, mouth moving right up against Nick's ear. "Let's get a good come out of you, Nicholas." He nuzzles against Nick's warm face and smiles as he feels pre-come dampening his palm, making the slip-slide of his grip on Nick go even smoother. "We're gonna do this together, me and you, okay? You with me?"
Nick squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, but his hips start pumping up and down, pushing his hot little cock into Joe's hand with this desperate shove-shove-shove.
"Just like that," Joe breathes, and shifts his own body so that he's pressing up against Nick's side, giving himself both a good angle for his wrist and a good view of his brother getting off. He wants to see it all.
He leans in, gets his mouth right on Nick's skin, on the meaty muscle of Nick's straining bicep. He sucks at the skin there, soft but persistent, not going for a bruise, but wanting to leave the skin there all red and tingly. Nick's growing up so good, he thinks, so strong and well-built and pretty. He deserves something good.
"What's the best come you've ever had?" Joe asks, breathless and curious. "I know you remember it. What were you doing? What were you thinking about?" He slows his strokes for a moment, so Nick can focus. He needs Nick to concentrate and tell him how to make it the best. "Tell me," he prompts, giving the head of Nick's cock a little squeeze.
"Uhnn," Nick groans, biting his lip to keep quiet, and that's-
"No no no," Joe argues, pushing himself up so he's hoisted over Nick's body, looking him in the face. "Don't hold back. I wanna know."
Nick blinks up at him dazedly but says nothing. He's not struggling anymore though. He just looks really horny now, which, yeah- good.
"You think about girls?" Joe asks, figuring that's a good place to start. "You like those little skinny ones, with nice round tits that fit perfect in your hand, right? You think about sucking on those titties? Biting 'em a little?" He feels his own cheeks start to burn because they don't- they don't talk like this, ever. "Or do you think about wet p-" He sucks in a breath and pushes down his shame because this is for Nick and it's important. "-pussies? All- all slick and hot and empty, shiny-wet for you? Pretty, slutty girls fingering their pussies and begging for you to slip inside, stuff them up with your cock?"
Nick groans and says, "God, Joe, shut up," but his dick has gone harder in Joe's hand, fattened up all nice and tight.
"You're allowed to like this," Joe breathes out, feeling pleased when Nick finally goes slack and pliant under him. "You're allowed to get off on thinking about dirty, filthy things. It's okay to think about some pretty little girl you saw at sound check and think horrible things about what you want to do to her. Just because you can't talk about it at the dinner table doesn't mean you can't get a hand on your dick and rub one out thinking those things."
Joe pulls back and looks, sees how Nick's face has gone all twisted up, how his mouth is swollen and red from chewing on his lips, how his hair is dark and damp with sweat. He's getting Nick worked up, it's obvious, and now Joe just needs to bring it home. He shudders out a breath, steels himself to talk Nick through it.
"Like how sometimes you'll pick out a girl, a sweet-looking one, all innocent and pretty, and you'll picture her all spread out for you, playing with herself because you've got her so hot, panties so wet you can see right through 'em- so wet you can see her pink little cunt, see her rubbing her fingers all over it, crying for you to- to give it to her good, crying because she wants- wants to come on your cock instead of coming all empty with her little good-girl fingers on her clit, right? Maybe- maybe she's dipping those fingers inside, getting them all wet up in there because she wants you so bad-"
His voice is shaking with his arm, and Nick is whining like it hurts him to hold on to it this long, like that come is just building up inside of him until the pressure is too much.
"Do you always use your hand? Or sometimes do you, like-" Joe has to stop when the zing of arousal wracks through him as he pictures Nick fucking against his pillow back at home, imagines the round cheeks of Nick's ass clenching and pushing into the soft bed. It shocks him, suddenly, how much he wants to see Nick like that. How much he wants to see Nick fuck, how much he wants to know what that looks like.
"Oh god," Joe groans, dropping his head down so that their mouths are touching, skin hot and damp and lit up everywhere. "I gotta-" He fumbles his hand away from Nick just long enough to push Nick's thighs apart so he can settle in between them, push his own hips up against Nick's so they can both get some friction.
He figures Nick is going to fuss, but Nick just arches against him, pushes his head back into the pillow and whimpers, like he needs to get off so badly. Nick's legs bracket Joe's hips and he squeezes, bucks up against his brother, chasing that come like it's right there, just out of reach.
Joe grinds down against Nick, feeling their dicks snag and rub together. It feels so good Joe almost forgets why he's doing this, that this is supposed to be all about Nick.
"Is that-" he starts again, voice a hoarse rasp. "Is that what gets you off? Thinking about putting it to some sweet little girl at a show?" Joe licks his own lips, whines out, "Tell me, Nicholas. Even if it's weird. Even if it's really dirty," he pants, hoping that it is. "I don't care - those are always the best, the weird ones."
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," Nick breathes out. "Just- ah stop talking."
"Is it bad?" Joe pants, and then presses his mouth against Nick's cheek, drags his tongue over the hot skin there. "You can tell me. Please- please tell me," he begs, rocking against Nick again and again and again until he feels his own orgasm building up.
Nick shakes his head, quick and tight like he's afraid the words are going to just fall out of his mouth without his permission.
"Please," Joe whines. "I- I wanna know so bad. Want you to come like that now. W-with me. Wanna see it. It's- it's gonna get me off, too."
"Oh god. Fuck you," Nick groans. It almost throws Joe off for a moment, because Nick's never said that to him, not ever. He has to look up, check to make sure Nick's not really mad.
Nick doesn't look mad. Nick looks wild, flushed and sweaty, working his hips against Joe's with purpose. Nick looks exactly how Joe wants him to look always. He looks amazing.
"Nick," he whispers, and then fits their mouths together in a sloppy, desperate kiss. He mutters out, "Love you so much," just once before he gets at Nick's mouth again, needing to taste him inside, knowing this is his only chance. And Nick- Nick just takes it, kissing back with so much enthusiasm that Joe has to pull away, shocked.
Nick looks at him, squints through his arousal and shudders out, "Fuck- fuck you, Joe. S'what I think about- fucking you. I wanna. Fuck you. S-so bad."
Joe's eyes squinch closed against the sharp spike of adrenalin. "Oh god, Nick." Out of everything he could have ever expected to hear from his brother at that moment, this is probably the only thing that Joe was not prepared for. The only thing he can think to say is, "You can. Jesus, you can right now if you want."
"Oh god." Nick tugs on the handcuffs with a violent jerk, metal clanging against the bunk. He strains up to get his mouth on Joe's neck, sucks hard as Joe struggles to get his own shorts off.
He presses his bare cock to Nick's, lets them feel each other skin to skin. Nick's whole body is wet with sweat now, resistance worn thin from being dragged out this long. "You wanna fuck me right now, Nick? Want me to ride your dick? Because I can- I- oh man I think about it too, all the time. Gets me off so hard, thinking about-"
He has to pause to breathe, try get get some control of himself because it feels like he's tumbling off of a cliff, and maybe- shit- maybe Nick doesn't really mean it, maybe it's just some dirty thought he has that he doesn't really mean-
But Nick's looking at him like he's waiting for Joe to say it, like he needs to hear it to get there, and anyway Joe's not positive he can stop himself now even if he wanted to.
"-thinking about you giving it to me, hard and-"
"Shit," Nick groans, hips rutting faster against Joe's.
"-sometimes I get my fingers inside and I wish-"
Nick makes a noise unlike any that Joe's ever heard from him, this rough, desperate wail, followed by weak little uh uh uh noises as he shoots, thick and creamy all over Joe.
Joe can feel it, feel how Nick's abs clench up as he spurts, feel Nick's warm jizz sliding down his own dick, getting it all wet. It's- it's too much.
"Fuck, Nick," he groans and sits up, scoots up on his knees and jerks himself off fast and rough until he blows his load all over Nick's face.
* * *
It's not like he's actually scared of Nick, but for the next day or two Joe can't help but get a little jumpy whenever Nick's around.
On the one hand, Joe's pretty pleased with how well the whole thing with the handcuffs went down; he's pleased with how thoroughly he was able to get Nick to let go of that weirdly tight control he has on himself, even if just for a moment. And although they've always been close, Joe feels like they've gotten even closer, sharing those secret thoughts that they've never told anyone else, never even admitted to themselves. But on the other hand, when Nick had finally gotten out of the cuffs he'd been pretty pissed about the facial Joe had given him. And to top it off, he'd had to make up some excuse for why his wrists were all torn up when Mom asked him about it when they stopped for food. And ever since then, Nick's been giving him these dark glances that remind Joe that revenge could be around the next corner. Even when he's smiling and joking around with the band, or squeezing Joe's hand earnestly during prayer, there's something sinister in the way Nick looks at him now.
Joe tries to make a joke out of it once, at dinner. He says something offhand about Nick plotting his revenge like Dr. Evil, and Nick just chuckles and shakes his head, denying the whole thing. But Joe sees the way Nick's cheeks go pink - it reminds him of how flushed he'd gone when Joe had worked all of that come out of him - and he thinks, it's not over yet.
The tension builds slowly in the background of all of the running around they're doing. It's a low buzz hiding underneath every fistpump, behind every smile for the cameras. And then, randomly, when Dad's checking them out of their hotel in Chicago Nick just saunters up to Joe, all casual like, and says, "You, uh, still have those cuffs?"
Joe tries to smile, but his mouth is dry, and so he just swallows a couple of times and nods.
"Good," Nick murmurs, and then leans closer, speaks softer. "Because tonight? When we're all alone on the way to Detroit? I'm gonna cuff you to the bunk and-" He pauses, looks around, and the drops his voice to a whisper. "-I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit for days."
"Oh," is all Joe can manage to say. Because yeah, maybe it's not just talking about it that gets Nick off. Maybe Nick really does want to do it. And shit. Maybe Joe really wants him to do it, too.
Nick smirks and presses a warm hand low on Joe's back. "Yeah, oh," he says, voice low like a growl. "I hope you're ready, big talker. Know what they say about payback."
Air goes down Joe's throat the wrong way, making him cough. Nick slaps him on the back a few times and smiles, wide and happy.
* * *
When they pull into Detroit the next morning, Kevin calls to ask if they need to stop anywhere before the venue, and Joe smiles and says no. He doesn't have to research costume shops in every city anymore. He's got better ways of making Nick smile.
THE END.
Pairing: Joe/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jonas Brothers, real-person slash, underage (Nick is 16) m/m incest. A-again. Also some mild bondage and d/s overtones. Undertones? Tones.
Word Count: 7,100
Summary: A first-time fic with handcuffs as the catalyst?
Disclaimer: This definitely did not happen. And as much as I wanted her to, and as helpful as she was, 2oclockcheckout did not write the porn. There is nobody to blame for this ridiculousness other than me.
What lies beneath
Every day the sound check costumes get just a little weirder. It’s always Joe who picks them out, and it’s always Nick who refuses to play along, rolling his eyes with a fond exasperation as Joe and sometimes Kevin make asses out of themselves in front of a small group of screaming girls and their patiently amused parents.
Joe doesn’t choose the costumes to please the girls. He knows he looks ridiculous dressed up as a moose or a cow, but it’s all worth it when Nick first sets eyes on him, grins and shakes his head. So far, Joe hasn’t been able to truly startle Nick, or to elicit any reaction stronger than a delighted chuckle, but he knows the perfect costume is out there, somewhere.
When they arrive in Phoenix, Joe drags Nick with him to the costume shop. Nick’s been quiet lately, but Joe knows he’ll be able to light him up with a bald cap and a fake mustache in about ten seconds.
Everyone is always joking about how serious Nick is, but Joe knows it’s really pretty easy to get his baby brother to smile. You just need to know the right way to do it. And Joe does. Or if he doesn’t, he’ll figure it out by process of elimination. It just takes persistence and a special kind of creativity that pretty much only Joe has.
“What about this?”
Joe poses, shirtless, with the ratty torn leopard print costume slung over one shoulder and a headband on that makes it look like there’s a bone going through his head. He’s holding a plastic club in one hand, and he’s got on these over-sized rubber feet that make him look like a Hobbit.
Nick’s forehead stays smooth as he looks away.
Joe whistles and shakes his head. “Not even a second glance.”
“I think a cave man is pretty un-PC,” Nick says, turning back to rifle through the costumes. “If you wear that, some gossip rag will accuse you of being a misogynist or something.”
Joe looks down at himself and scrunches up his nose. "A what? A massage gymnast?"
"No, like, a cave man. Like an old-fashioned dude who clubs ladies on the head and stuff."
"But I'm supposed to be a cave man. I'm not a symbolic caveman. I'm an actual caveman."
Nick shrugs like he knows everything. "It's not cool," he says simply.
“Can’t have that,” Joe grumbles, and heads back into the dressing room.
A few minutes later, Joe re-emerges in a white mini-dress, an old-fashioned nurses’ hat, fishnet stockings and white pumps. He’s got something stuffed down his top to look like boobs, but they’re all lumpy and the ‘sexy-nurse’ effect is not really working.
He hobbles over to where Nick is standing, flicking through the gag gifts, and loops the cord of his stethoscope around Nick’s neck. He drops his voice and pulls his brother close. “Hey, McDreamy," Joe says huskily. “Can I check your temperature?" He gives Nick a lewd wink and a nudge.
Nick looks up, chuckles, and then goes back to checking out the fake dog turd.
Joe pouts. “No?” he asks. “Really?”
“Your love is like bad medicine, Joe,” Nick says drily.
Joe huffs and flounces back into the changing room.
They finally settle on a black and white striped old-school prison uniform. Nick says it’s kind of Jailhouse Rock, but Joe’s getting more of a Hamburgler vibe from it, which is cool with him. Cooler, even.
When Joe hits the mini-stage in the Glendale arena in his costume, he’s added a set of handcuffs that dangle from his right wrist. They kind of get in the way when he’s rocking the tambourine, but Joe decides they were a good call as far as accessories go when he catches Nick staring four times during the fifteen minute sound check.
* * *
It’s not until they arrive in San Antonio a couple of days later that Nick asks. They’re in a dark, dusty costume shop and Nick’s working pretty hard at pretending not to pay attention to Joe.
His voice breaks when he says, “So, where did you get those handcuffs the other night?”
Joe grins behind the curtain of the changing room.
“What do you mean?” he says, all innocence. “They’re mine.”
He pushes the curtain aside and Nick laughs on an inhale and chokes a little.
“Batman!” Joe yells, and swishes his cape melodramatically.
Nick doesn’t bring up the handcuffs again, but Joe can tell he’s intrigued. And that’s a good thing, because it means Nick’s attention is focused on Joe, rather than on the crap game of softball they’d played in the morning.
At the sound check, Kevin wears a green wig and red lipstick, Garbo plays the bass line to the old Batman series theme song and all the girls sing along. Nick cracks a smile, but it’s not really the reaction Joe was looking for.
He'll have to try again.
* * *
In Atlanta, Nick’s being pissy and Joe just can’t crack the code. It’s brutally hot, and Joe can’t deal with the drama, so he drags Kevin along to the costume shop this time.
It’s not as much fun, because Kevin’s really enthusiastic about pretty much every single costume Joe tries on. Also, Kevin tries on lots of costumes and keeps asking Joe for his opinion. It gets old pretty fast, so Joe just rents a cop costume. It's pretty lame, but he figures he'll have an excuse to wear his aviators and yell, "RESPECT MAH AUTHORATAH!" as much as he wants.
Before the soundcheck starts, he hooks the handcuffs to his belt and pastes on a Magnum P.I. mustache.
Nick stumbles up the steps to the stage, Joe catching him with one arm as he loses his balance. "Easy there, mister," Joe says in his cop-voice. "Wouldn't wanna have to cuff ya. Might interfere with your that there guitar playin'." There's no good reason why Joe's cop-voice sounds more like Billy Ray Cyrus, but Joe figures the key to pulling it off is the cop-attitude. He holds Nick's arm behind his back and kind of shoves him up onto the stage a little, like Nick's a bad guy and Joe's gonna put him away.
Girls are cheering and JT plays a few riffs of something vaguely familiar when they finally all get on stage, but Joe can't focus on anything other than the hot, flushed skin on Nick's neck, and they way Nick distinctly hadn't struggled when Joe was holding him back.
* * *
When Joe gets in that night after a late dinner with Jordin and her girls, Nick's still up, frowning at his laptop and looking way too intense for a night off. He doesn't even look up when Joe closes the door and says, "Heyyyyy it's old Saint Nick." And Nick usually hates being called that.
It's been, oh, probably three days since Joe's earned a real, full-on smile from Nick. Or even a shout. Nick's just been moody and stressed out and the only time he's really broken out of that funk was when Joe played cops n' robbers with him, so he figures he'll try it again. He grabs the handcuffs from his bag and jangles them around.
"Oh Niiiiiick," he sing-songs.
Nick looks up, right away, face gone blank, eyes drawn directly to the cuffs. Interesting.
Joe walks over to where Nick is sitting and smiles widely. "Give me your hand," he says.
"No," Nick says, firmly but quietly, and he raises his eyebrows like his interest has been piqued.
"Give me your hand," Joe says again, holding up the cuffs. Just in case Nick wasn't sure what he meant before. "I wanna try something."
"No," Nick says again, same quiet, sure voice. Nick doesn't take his eyes away from Joe's face though, so it feels like he's playing along. Joe keeps his hand out, like if he just waits long enough Nick will change his mind.
He doesn't.
"Tell me what you want to try," Nick says.
Joe sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, pretends to turn away. Then, in what he thinks is a ninja-like flash, he pounces on Nick and wrangles him out of the chair, grabbing at Nick's arms and trying to slap the cuffs on him. Nick fights back this time, shoving at Joe and spinning him around until somehow Nick has Joe's hands behind Joe's back, handcuffs dangling uselessly from one of Joe's wrists.
"Tell me-" Nick starts, but Joe slips one hand out of Nick's grasp and he wiggles around, trying to break free.
This is good, Joe thinks. Maybe what Nick needs is a little exercise. They've both been lifting this summer so it'll be an even tussle. He gets one arm around Nick's neck and pushes his head down, but Nick is too quick, ducks right under him and around, grabbing Joe's wrist and hugging him in a violent bear hug.
"Gotcha," Nick says, barricading Joe in with his legs. He fights Joe's hand back behind his back so that he's got them both pinned there. The move gets Nick pressed up against Joe so tightly that Joe can feel Nick's heart pounding from the sudden exertion. This is definitely good, and although Joe is basically completely restrained at this point, he's still squirming around, determined to cuff Nick to something, even if that something is himself.
Despite Joe's best efforts, Nick holds him still, holds him so close that Joe gets distracted, forgets to struggle in favor of watching Nick go all warm and pretty from the fight. He's a little sweaty and he's breathing fast, cheeks flushed from the burst of activity.
"Tell me what you want to try," Nick says, panting. Joe takes comfort in the fact that Nick's a little winded. At least he wasn't easy to pin.
Joe struggles a little more, energy momentarily renewed, but Nick just hugs him tight, arms wrapped around Joe's, chests pressed together, holding Joe still.
"Sshh, c'mon," Nick says, like he's soothing Joe.
And the weird thing is that it is kind of soothing. He's got Nick wrapped all around him, focused on him, not being a little douche like he'd been all week, and the combination makes Joe feel like he can finally relax.
"That's it," Nick says as Joe settles. "Easy."
Eventually Joe stills completely, letting his head rest against Nick's, faces mashed together at the cheek. His shoulders ache a little; it's not exactly comfortable, the way Nick has him restrained, but he finds that when he stops pulling and just lets his arms go slack in Nick's grip, it feels kind of like being held up instead of being held down.
Joe's not fighting Nick anymore, but Nick presses closer still, for some reason. "Tell me what you wanted to try," Nick says again, heat pouring off of him, making Joe sweat in sympathy.
Joe barely remembers what he was going for. He's just sort of floating now, suspended in Nick's arms. This is what he really wanted: Nick's full, focused attention. It almost doesn't matter how he was planning on getting it, but- oh, yeah.
"I wanted to cuff you," Joe says plainly.
Nick sucks in a harsh breath and pushes closer to Joe, bracketing Joe's legs with his own. "Yeah?" he breathes, and Joe nods, feeling something go all dippy in his stomach. He looks up at Nick, stares at the way Nick's face has gone all flushed - not only his cheeks but his mouth too, all red and puffy like he's been biting at it. He barely even registers when Nick's mouth puckers and then relaxes, sighing out, "Why?"
"I- I don't know," Joe says eventually, shrugging. "I thought it would be fun."
And yeah, maybe that really was it, some uncomplicated impulse Joe had out of nowhere, but now that he thinks it over, this is exactly what Nick needs. To be held back, held down, forced to stop worrying about things he can't control. Heck, even getting Nick to acknowledge that there are things he can't control would be a step in the right direction.
Nick hums and lets go of one of Joe's arms, and then the click of the cuffs snap around his other wrist, binding the two together.
"Aw," Joe begins to protest, but Nick shushes him again.
"Is it fun?" Nick's voice is soft, low like he's asking for real, like he's genuinely curious.
And the thing is, yeah, it's pretty nice being here like this. With Nick. Joe nods and pushes his face into Nick's neck, letting himself just drape all over his brother in a way that he's usually not allowed to. He thinks about what Nick would allow himself to do if the tables were turned and the cuffs on the other set of wrists.
"It's- kinda," Joe says, mouth brushing against Nick's hot skin as he pretends to struggle with his words. "I- I can't really explain it. You- you should just let me show you."
Nick snorts and shakes his head, pretending to laugh it off as he pushes Joe away, but Joe knows he's on to something.
"What?" Joe asks, all innocent as he wiggles around in the cuffs until he triggers the clasp and they fall to the carpet with a dull clink-clink. "Here, just, just give me your hands," he says, grabbing for Nick's arm.
Nick twists away, laughing, and yeah, this is almost as good as what Joe was going for. Nick's all loose and flushed and maybe not quite relaxed but he's stopped worrying about the weight of the world for a few minutes, and Joe's good with that.
* * *
The thing about Nick wearing tank tops is that it makes Joe think about Nick's armpits. He can't not think about Nick's armpits when Nick's armpits are right there, flashing at him with every odd gesture Nick makes. So the next time Nick lifts his arm to hoist his bag up further up on his shoulder, Joe just jabs his hand right in there and tickles.
"Aaah! J-Joe! Don't!"
Nick's convulsing with laughter, squirming away at even the lightest touch. Joe grins and digs in, grabbing Nick by the waist and pressing his fingers deep into that tickliest spot under Nick's arm.
"S-s-stop," Nick barely gets out in between giggles. "S-stop, or I swear-"
"What are you gonna do," Joe taunts, "huh, tough guy?" He drags Nick backwards onto the couch, letting Nick fall over his lap and tumble all soft-eyed and breathless into the cushions.
Nick swats at his hands, preventing a further armpit attack while trying to catch his breath. "Such a jerk," Nick pants out. "You're like a huge, hairy child; you know that?"
Joe smiles innocently. "I think I'm more like a strong, hungry horse," he muses. He fits one hand just above Nick's knee and goes, "Chomp, chomp, chomp!", squeezing and tickling until Nick's laughing so hard he can't even talk.
Nick is kicking and shoving at Joe, but every time he manages to get some air in his lungs he lets out a loud ha ha ha sound that makes Joe just want to tickle him forever. He barely even notices Kevin and Danielle coming into the living room until Kevin says, "You're gonna make him pee."
Joe startles and Nick manages to squirm away, still laughing so hard it's actually funny just to watch him. "Woooh," he says, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes. "You- I hate when you do that," he says to Joe around a wide smile.
It's Danielle that interjects then, all sweet and amused. "Oh you love it, Nick."
Nick's still grinning, but he says, "I don't! I hate it when he-"
"Oh, Joe, don't!" Kevin pitches his voice high like a girl, or like a little kid. "Oh! Don't! Stop!" He flaps his arms around like a T-rex.
Joe snickers, but Nick's smile disappears in an instant. "I don't sound like that," Nick says.
"Oh! Joe! I hate it when you tickle me," Kevin trills again, this time bringing the back of his hand to his forehead like a damsel in distress. "Just do it a little more, okay?"
Nick clenches his jaw and glares around the room. "Whatever," he says, like the teenager he so rarely remembers to be. He sits up on the couch and grabs the remote control. "Yankees are on."
Joe can read the tension in Nick's neck and shoulders, and he wants to hug it right out of him, but he knows Nick's too prickly now. He looks over at Kevin with a sour face but Kevin just says, "Oooh, Yankees are on?" and settles in on Nick's other side to watch the game.
Joe watches Nick, sees the hard set of his mouth and the way he's sitting, ramrod straight on the couch. He wishes Kevin would stop making Nick feel bad about letting go every now and then, but it's not the kind of thing they'd talk about.
It's Joe's job to get Nick to unravel a little. He sits back on the couch, throws a casual arm around Nick's shoulders and devises a plan.
* * *
He waits until Nick's finally asleep, worn out from the show and the humming of the bus engine. Nick's always been a heavy sleeper - he doesn't sleep much, but when he's out, he's pretty much down for the count.
He's sprawled out on his bunk in just the right way; Joe couldn't have planned it any better, really. He has to stop and stare for a good long couple of minutes before doing anything.
Even with his arms akimbo, t-shirt rucked up and basketball shorts twisted around his hips, Nick appears to be ridiculously composed. His breathing is in a perfect cadence, soft snores buzzing out right on tempo. His breathing doesn't even hitch once when Joe climbs on top of him, straddling Nick's hips and curving his hands around Nick's wrists.
The first cuff clicks shut easily, but Joe knew one would be easy. He holds his breath as he gently lifts Nick's other arm above his head, so that his hands are together. Nick breathes out loudly through his mouth, but his eyes don't open. Joe keeps absolutely still anyway, just in case. His chest aches from holding his breath, but he's got to get this just right.
He threads the empty cuff around the bunk frame and slowly, ever so slowly, wraps it around Nick's free hand. He smiles and clicks it shut, exhaling noisily. It's done.
He sits back roughly on Nick's lap, wiggles a bit, impatient for Nick to wake up and find himself cuffed to the bunk. Nick snuffles a bit and tugs one of his arms a little, enough to rattle the metal of the cuffs, but he doesn't wake up.
It's- annoying. It's annoying is what it is. All of this build up, all of this care, finding the perfect moment and constructing a plan, and Joe was expecting some major payout. He wants to see Nick sputtering and griping and yelling. Wants it now, now while they're on their bus alone, and nobody is going to come reprimand him for being foolish, nobody's going to make him uncuff his brother, nobody's going to ruin it like Kevin.
But Nick's just not cooperating. Which is so typical that Joe laughs out loud for a moment, shaking his head at his own silly idea that anything with Nick would be easy.
He leans down, gets his face right up close to Nick's. Stares. Stares in a way he never can when Nick's awake. He takes in the downy blond hairs on Nick's jaw, sees how they turn progressively darker as they trail up to his sparse sideburns, and then turn into thick, dark, messy curls over his ears. Nick's ears are red, always, even when he's sleeping, it turns out, and there are baby fine blond hairs there, too.
He touches the tip of one finger to the shell of Nick's red little ear, and watches Nick's face for signs of consciousness. He pinches at Nick's earlobe, twists it up so he can check behind, make sure Nick's been washing properly. He digs his fingers into Nick's hair, rubs behind his ears a little roughly, hoping Nick will wake up.
It kind of works.
Nick snorts and shifts a little under Joe, not enough to fully wake up, but enough that Joe can't help but feel how Nick's dick has gone hard against the meat of his thigh.
The idea of it makes Joe's brain stutter a little, go blank. It's- of course it's the best way to get Nick to relax, now that he thinks about it. Of course he needs to get off. Nick's so stressed out all the time, bossing everyone around and needing everything to be perfect that sometimes Joe forgets that Nick is just a teenager still. He's a sixteen year old kid with no ability to have casual hook-ups with girls, given their notoriety, and no girlfriend. He's got to be horny all the time; backed up like crazy.
Joe frowns down at his brother. He probably doesn't even take care of business as often as he should. He wiggles back, spreading his own legs so that Nick's dick is jutting up in between his legs, rather than trapped under him.
Joe just looks for a bit, wonders what Nick is dreaming about that's getting him all worked up like that. because he's really hard, his dick a sharp poke tenting his shorts. He tugs up Nick's t-shirt so he can look at his belly and chest, parts of Nick that he rarely gets to see. Nick's nipples are flushed, pink and stiff, like Joe imagines his cock must be. He slips his hand down and tucks two fingers in the waistband of Nick's shorts and tugs them away from his hips, just to look.
"Mnrwugh," Nick grumbles. "W-whuzuh-"
Joe lets the waistband of Nick's shorts snap back against the pale skin of his hip and says, "Hi there."
"Joe?" Nick's looking at him all confused, eyes only half-way open.
"Yes I am," Joe says, smiling widely.
Nick peers at him and moves to stretch, eyes going wide when he realizes that his hands are trapped. "Wha- oh no," he says in a rush, face scrunching up fast. "Oh no. Take them off." His voice is cold, firm. If Joe wasn't six hundred percent positive that this is exactly what Nick needs, he'd maybe be intimidated a little.
"Nope," Joe says, popping the 'p'.
"I'm not kidding," Nick says, squirming around, pulling on the cuffs as if he could just slip his fat hands right out of them.
"I'm not either," Joe says. "Just relax."
"You relax," Nick bites out stupidly. "Uncuff me. Now."
Joe laughs and leans down, braces himself with his hands on Nick's chest and smiles. "I am relaxed," he says, squeezing at Nick's pecs. "And no."
Nick bucks under him, and Joe can see just how much Nick hates to be touched like this. He's weirdly protective of his own chest and stomach, always keeping covered up. Lying here with his v-neck rucked up under his armpits while Joe digs his fingers into Nick's bare skin must be making Nick insane. Joe grins and plucks at one of Nick's nipples, just to see how Nick will react.
It's almost as if Joe had slapped Nick in the face. Nick goes all red and his mouth drops open, eyes wide with surprise and he cants his torso to one side, as if he could somehow escape another pinch. "Stop!" he yelps out suddenly, after a few seconds have passed.
"Hmm," Joe says, looking thoughtful. "I don't really have to stop, do I?" He plucks at Nick's other nipple, gives it a little twist. "I mean, it's not like you can make me stop, right? You just have to sit here and I can do whatever I want."
He flicks at a nipple again, only this time Nick sucks in a gasp and bites his lip, hard.
Joe raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"
Nick's cheeks go even more blushy and he looks away. His wrists are all red and scraped up where he's rubbed them against the metal. "This is not okay," he finally says, not meeting Joe's eyes. "I am not okay with this."
Joe nods seriously. "Noted," he says. "And I will uncuff you. But first we need to take care of this," he says, and pats at the bulge in Nick's shorts.
Nick whuffs out a squawk and cranes his neck up, like he needs to see, like he can't even tell he's got a raging boner unless there's visual proof. Joe squeezes it through the fabric, and Nick slams his head back into the pillow with a grunt. "JOE," he growls. "Don't-"
"Just be quiet," Joe says, cutting him off. "I'm gonna take care of it." He slips his hands into the sides of Nick's shorts, right above his hipbones, and starts to slide them down along with Nick's briefs.
"W-what?! NO," Nick says, bucking his hips in an attempt to knock Joe off of him. All it does, however, is make it easier for Joe to get his shorts off faster.
Joe smiles. Nick's a smart kid. Maybe he's finally playing along. Because the one thing that is absolutely certain is that Nick's still hard, dick springing up happily once Joe's gotten his shorts down.
Nick looks different from Joe down there, smaller, less hairy, thicker. Even the color is different: Nick's cock is this dusky pink color, gone dark from being so flushed with blood. Joe has to touch, wants to feel it in his hand. Nick squirms and chokes a little, panicking when Joe circles a fist around his swollen prick.
"Sshhh," Joe says. "No wonder you're all boned up." He slides his hand down the length of Nick's dick and down, rubbing gently at his balls. "You need to take some time-"
"Ugh, what, Joe," Nick groans, cutting him off. "I- there's a difference between needing a few days off and needing a-" He trails off when Joe squeezes gently, turning his hot little face into the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.
Joe leans down over Nick, uses his free hand to push Nick's sweat-damp curls back from his frowning face. "You need to come, Nick," he says quietly, right into Nick's ear. He feels a sharp swoop in his own gut at how dirty that sounds, saying that to Nick like this. Making Nick hear it.
He fists Nick's dick in his right hand, holds Nick's head still with his left, and starts to jack his little brother off with nice, slow, firm strokes.
"Augh," Nick grunts out, biting his lip to keep quiet. His arms are pulling at the cuffs almost involuntarily, making the muscles on his arms bulge out. "S-stop," he grits out. "I c-can do this on my own."
Joe grips him harder, kisses at Nick's sweaty temple. "But you don't, do you? You don't get yourself off enough. And when you do, I bet you just do it all quick and businesslike, just to get it over with. I bet you don't do it right." Joe makes a pained face, holds his breath and speeds up his strokes, so he's tugging furious and rough on Nick's cock, like he's angry at it. "I bet you do it like this," he says, voice strained and exaggerated. Nick's stomach convulses like Joe's just punched him, sucking his gut so fast it goes concave.
"Ah! S-s-stop!"
Joe smiles and slows it down, smooths it out. He wants Nick to enjoy it, to get off good. "I'm gonna do it better for you," Joe says. "You're gonna love it."
Nick gasps when Joe twists his hand, opens his eyes wide and chews harder on his red little mouth. "J- ohgod. This-" he breathes out loudly "-this is fucked up." He says the last part in a shocked whisper.
Joe laughs. He leans in close and says, "Nobody can hear you swear, Nicholas. You don't have to hold anything back."
Nick looks pissed off and ashamed, tense and upset, but Joe knows all of these feelings are fleeting. He knows what Nick needs, and he's going to give it to him, the way nobody else can.
"C'mon," Joe whispers, mouth moving right up against Nick's ear. "Let's get a good come out of you, Nicholas." He nuzzles against Nick's warm face and smiles as he feels pre-come dampening his palm, making the slip-slide of his grip on Nick go even smoother. "We're gonna do this together, me and you, okay? You with me?"
Nick squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, but his hips start pumping up and down, pushing his hot little cock into Joe's hand with this desperate shove-shove-shove.
"Just like that," Joe breathes, and shifts his own body so that he's pressing up against Nick's side, giving himself both a good angle for his wrist and a good view of his brother getting off. He wants to see it all.
He leans in, gets his mouth right on Nick's skin, on the meaty muscle of Nick's straining bicep. He sucks at the skin there, soft but persistent, not going for a bruise, but wanting to leave the skin there all red and tingly. Nick's growing up so good, he thinks, so strong and well-built and pretty. He deserves something good.
"What's the best come you've ever had?" Joe asks, breathless and curious. "I know you remember it. What were you doing? What were you thinking about?" He slows his strokes for a moment, so Nick can focus. He needs Nick to concentrate and tell him how to make it the best. "Tell me," he prompts, giving the head of Nick's cock a little squeeze.
"Uhnn," Nick groans, biting his lip to keep quiet, and that's-
"No no no," Joe argues, pushing himself up so he's hoisted over Nick's body, looking him in the face. "Don't hold back. I wanna know."
Nick blinks up at him dazedly but says nothing. He's not struggling anymore though. He just looks really horny now, which, yeah- good.
"You think about girls?" Joe asks, figuring that's a good place to start. "You like those little skinny ones, with nice round tits that fit perfect in your hand, right? You think about sucking on those titties? Biting 'em a little?" He feels his own cheeks start to burn because they don't- they don't talk like this, ever. "Or do you think about wet p-" He sucks in a breath and pushes down his shame because this is for Nick and it's important. "-pussies? All- all slick and hot and empty, shiny-wet for you? Pretty, slutty girls fingering their pussies and begging for you to slip inside, stuff them up with your cock?"
Nick groans and says, "God, Joe, shut up," but his dick has gone harder in Joe's hand, fattened up all nice and tight.
"You're allowed to like this," Joe breathes out, feeling pleased when Nick finally goes slack and pliant under him. "You're allowed to get off on thinking about dirty, filthy things. It's okay to think about some pretty little girl you saw at sound check and think horrible things about what you want to do to her. Just because you can't talk about it at the dinner table doesn't mean you can't get a hand on your dick and rub one out thinking those things."
Joe pulls back and looks, sees how Nick's face has gone all twisted up, how his mouth is swollen and red from chewing on his lips, how his hair is dark and damp with sweat. He's getting Nick worked up, it's obvious, and now Joe just needs to bring it home. He shudders out a breath, steels himself to talk Nick through it.
"Like how sometimes you'll pick out a girl, a sweet-looking one, all innocent and pretty, and you'll picture her all spread out for you, playing with herself because you've got her so hot, panties so wet you can see right through 'em- so wet you can see her pink little cunt, see her rubbing her fingers all over it, crying for you to- to give it to her good, crying because she wants- wants to come on your cock instead of coming all empty with her little good-girl fingers on her clit, right? Maybe- maybe she's dipping those fingers inside, getting them all wet up in there because she wants you so bad-"
His voice is shaking with his arm, and Nick is whining like it hurts him to hold on to it this long, like that come is just building up inside of him until the pressure is too much.
"Do you always use your hand? Or sometimes do you, like-" Joe has to stop when the zing of arousal wracks through him as he pictures Nick fucking against his pillow back at home, imagines the round cheeks of Nick's ass clenching and pushing into the soft bed. It shocks him, suddenly, how much he wants to see Nick like that. How much he wants to see Nick fuck, how much he wants to know what that looks like.
"Oh god," Joe groans, dropping his head down so that their mouths are touching, skin hot and damp and lit up everywhere. "I gotta-" He fumbles his hand away from Nick just long enough to push Nick's thighs apart so he can settle in between them, push his own hips up against Nick's so they can both get some friction.
He figures Nick is going to fuss, but Nick just arches against him, pushes his head back into the pillow and whimpers, like he needs to get off so badly. Nick's legs bracket Joe's hips and he squeezes, bucks up against his brother, chasing that come like it's right there, just out of reach.
Joe grinds down against Nick, feeling their dicks snag and rub together. It feels so good Joe almost forgets why he's doing this, that this is supposed to be all about Nick.
"Is that-" he starts again, voice a hoarse rasp. "Is that what gets you off? Thinking about putting it to some sweet little girl at a show?" Joe licks his own lips, whines out, "Tell me, Nicholas. Even if it's weird. Even if it's really dirty," he pants, hoping that it is. "I don't care - those are always the best, the weird ones."
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," Nick breathes out. "Just- ah stop talking."
"Is it bad?" Joe pants, and then presses his mouth against Nick's cheek, drags his tongue over the hot skin there. "You can tell me. Please- please tell me," he begs, rocking against Nick again and again and again until he feels his own orgasm building up.
Nick shakes his head, quick and tight like he's afraid the words are going to just fall out of his mouth without his permission.
"Please," Joe whines. "I- I wanna know so bad. Want you to come like that now. W-with me. Wanna see it. It's- it's gonna get me off, too."
"Oh god. Fuck you," Nick groans. It almost throws Joe off for a moment, because Nick's never said that to him, not ever. He has to look up, check to make sure Nick's not really mad.
Nick doesn't look mad. Nick looks wild, flushed and sweaty, working his hips against Joe's with purpose. Nick looks exactly how Joe wants him to look always. He looks amazing.
"Nick," he whispers, and then fits their mouths together in a sloppy, desperate kiss. He mutters out, "Love you so much," just once before he gets at Nick's mouth again, needing to taste him inside, knowing this is his only chance. And Nick- Nick just takes it, kissing back with so much enthusiasm that Joe has to pull away, shocked.
Nick looks at him, squints through his arousal and shudders out, "Fuck- fuck you, Joe. S'what I think about- fucking you. I wanna. Fuck you. S-so bad."
Joe's eyes squinch closed against the sharp spike of adrenalin. "Oh god, Nick." Out of everything he could have ever expected to hear from his brother at that moment, this is probably the only thing that Joe was not prepared for. The only thing he can think to say is, "You can. Jesus, you can right now if you want."
"Oh god." Nick tugs on the handcuffs with a violent jerk, metal clanging against the bunk. He strains up to get his mouth on Joe's neck, sucks hard as Joe struggles to get his own shorts off.
He presses his bare cock to Nick's, lets them feel each other skin to skin. Nick's whole body is wet with sweat now, resistance worn thin from being dragged out this long. "You wanna fuck me right now, Nick? Want me to ride your dick? Because I can- I- oh man I think about it too, all the time. Gets me off so hard, thinking about-"
He has to pause to breathe, try get get some control of himself because it feels like he's tumbling off of a cliff, and maybe- shit- maybe Nick doesn't really mean it, maybe it's just some dirty thought he has that he doesn't really mean-
But Nick's looking at him like he's waiting for Joe to say it, like he needs to hear it to get there, and anyway Joe's not positive he can stop himself now even if he wanted to.
"-thinking about you giving it to me, hard and-"
"Shit," Nick groans, hips rutting faster against Joe's.
"-sometimes I get my fingers inside and I wish-"
Nick makes a noise unlike any that Joe's ever heard from him, this rough, desperate wail, followed by weak little uh uh uh noises as he shoots, thick and creamy all over Joe.
Joe can feel it, feel how Nick's abs clench up as he spurts, feel Nick's warm jizz sliding down his own dick, getting it all wet. It's- it's too much.
"Fuck, Nick," he groans and sits up, scoots up on his knees and jerks himself off fast and rough until he blows his load all over Nick's face.
* * *
It's not like he's actually scared of Nick, but for the next day or two Joe can't help but get a little jumpy whenever Nick's around.
On the one hand, Joe's pretty pleased with how well the whole thing with the handcuffs went down; he's pleased with how thoroughly he was able to get Nick to let go of that weirdly tight control he has on himself, even if just for a moment. And although they've always been close, Joe feels like they've gotten even closer, sharing those secret thoughts that they've never told anyone else, never even admitted to themselves. But on the other hand, when Nick had finally gotten out of the cuffs he'd been pretty pissed about the facial Joe had given him. And to top it off, he'd had to make up some excuse for why his wrists were all torn up when Mom asked him about it when they stopped for food. And ever since then, Nick's been giving him these dark glances that remind Joe that revenge could be around the next corner. Even when he's smiling and joking around with the band, or squeezing Joe's hand earnestly during prayer, there's something sinister in the way Nick looks at him now.
Joe tries to make a joke out of it once, at dinner. He says something offhand about Nick plotting his revenge like Dr. Evil, and Nick just chuckles and shakes his head, denying the whole thing. But Joe sees the way Nick's cheeks go pink - it reminds him of how flushed he'd gone when Joe had worked all of that come out of him - and he thinks, it's not over yet.
The tension builds slowly in the background of all of the running around they're doing. It's a low buzz hiding underneath every fistpump, behind every smile for the cameras. And then, randomly, when Dad's checking them out of their hotel in Chicago Nick just saunters up to Joe, all casual like, and says, "You, uh, still have those cuffs?"
Joe tries to smile, but his mouth is dry, and so he just swallows a couple of times and nods.
"Good," Nick murmurs, and then leans closer, speaks softer. "Because tonight? When we're all alone on the way to Detroit? I'm gonna cuff you to the bunk and-" He pauses, looks around, and the drops his voice to a whisper. "-I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit for days."
"Oh," is all Joe can manage to say. Because yeah, maybe it's not just talking about it that gets Nick off. Maybe Nick really does want to do it. And shit. Maybe Joe really wants him to do it, too.
Nick smirks and presses a warm hand low on Joe's back. "Yeah, oh," he says, voice low like a growl. "I hope you're ready, big talker. Know what they say about payback."
Air goes down Joe's throat the wrong way, making him cough. Nick slaps him on the back a few times and smiles, wide and happy.
* * *
When they pull into Detroit the next morning, Kevin calls to ask if they need to stop anywhere before the venue, and Joe smiles and says no. He doesn't have to research costume shops in every city anymore. He's got better ways of making Nick smile.
THE END.