"Stop fighting it, you've already lost, brother." Tygra's voice was hot and low and deep in his chest; close enough to Lion-O's ear to make him shiver and grit his teeth. One of them was growling, or maybe they both were. It didn't really matter at this point; some part of him knew that Tygra was right and he hated it as much as he really, really loved it.

"Try me." Not as much defiance as he would have liked. He could feel Tygra's smirk against the back of his neck, right before pointed incisors bit down onto the pronounced lines of his throat almost hard enough to draw blood. Lion-O's back stiffened ram-rod straight as he fought to swallow back what was sure to be an embarrassing noise. He only partially succeeded. The sharp teeth were replaced by the hot-rough drag of a tongue – Lion-O couldn't tell if it served to soothe the ache or just stroke the flame that was rapidly pooling in the pit of his stomach.

"Give it up." A taunt. Tygra was nipping small bruises along his jaw to punctuate his words.

"You wish."

"I really do."

Tygra shifted his weight, knocking Lion-O off balance just enough to pin him against the bedroom wall. The stark contrast between the heat of Tygra's skin and the cool stone was enough to make Lion-O squeeze his eyes closed and bare his teeth.

"C'mon little brother, beg for me." Tygra pressed forward even more, grinding the hard, unmistakable line of his cock against Lion-O's ass. Even through their mutual layers of clothing, it made them both bite back what they were too proud to acknowledge as moans.

There was more than one way to win this game, no matter what his brother seemed to think. "Tygra."

A low purr that Lion-O felt more than heard rumbled out of his older brother's chest at the sound of his name. It made Lion-O smile; reach back to twine one hand into Tygra's coarse hair and dig his claws into his scalp.

"Tygra."

It was a well practiced rhythm by now: Tygra's claws tearing at the fasteners of his clothes, raking down every inch of skin exposed as they went, making Lion-O shiver and sigh and gasp. The pretense of competition was more important to Tygra than it was to him, he knew it, and he was willing to take part if only because it was fun; familiar for them both, but it was the aching minutes where all bravado and showmanship were abruptly cast aside that Lion-O loved the best.

Tygra ground into him, driving home hard and fast enough to make Lion-O's vision blur at the edges. He braced himself against the wall with his free arm as Tygra growled, unrestrained and almost dangerous, nearly primal.

It would become a competition again, then. A race to see who could make the other come first, who could elicit the loudest sounds; leave the most inconspicuous bruises. Small victories counting towards some completely inconsequential total they'd laugh about in the morning.

Eventually they'd find themselves sprawled across the mattress, sheets cast aside in clumps as they used what was left of their energy catching their breath and exploring the lines and planes of one another's bodies with lazy hands and teeth and tongues until they can't keep themselves awake any longer – Content in their equality, however brief and private it was.