The blood is rising to the surface, visibly pulsating in the strained vessels, but not yet spilling forth over his tender lower lip. His palms are laid out flat against the bathroom tile, fingernails scraping the un-scrubbed floor panels as he tries to get a good grip, rocking back as Reese pushes in and out rhythmically.

He stops biting his lip long enough to moan, "Harder," and presses his forehead against the cool ground, sweat running down his neck.

Reese makes a noise of dissent, his hands clamped tightly against Malcolm's hips as he rolls ever steadily forward. "It's fast enough," he pants, a thin trail of sweat dripping from his own neck and trailing down the curves of his chest and stomach and pooling in his navel.

In response, Malcolm pushes himself upright without warning and backs them up against the wall, spearing himself on his brother and driving a sharp wave of pleasure and pain up his spine. His groan of satisfaction drowns out Reese's surprised yelp. Pressing his back flush against his brother's torso, Malcolm tilts his head and plants a not-quite kiss on the tender spot where Reese's jaw meets his neck, eliciting a shuddering whimper. "Harder," he whispers forcefully.

Reese hisses sharply, wrapping his arms around Malcolm's chest and resuming the constant rocking motion. "You're a fucking freak, you know that?" he mutters, a tinge of amusement beneath the exasperation.

Malcolm grunts impatiently, and Reese rolls his eyes, thrusting harder.

One of them slips on the floor, sending them both toppling to the ground. Malcolm grits his teeth and lets out a silent scream as Reese coughs from exhaustion on top of him.

Their skin is hot against each other, their bodies expanding and contracting rapidly with the exertion of breathing.

Malcolm coughs out some unintelligible sentence, and Reese squints, wiping sweat out of his eyes. "What?" he wheezes, touching a palm to the back of his brother's neck.

"Keep-" Malcolm coughs. "Keep going."

Reese flicks the back of his ear, half as a reprimand, half as a sign of affection. "Fuck no."

And in surprising display of strength, Malcolm wrenches himself off his brother and twists around to push Reese down on his back, his head bouncing gently off the tile. Malcolm lifts Reese's legs roughly and looks into his eyes heatedly. "Okay?" he asks breathlessly, already prepping his brother with two fingers.

Reese winces at the intrusion, looking somewhat afraid, but also aroused. He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but he's shaking, and his voice wavers. "Sure. Whatever."

And Malcolm spits into his hand and readies himself, though the both know from experience that it doesn't help with the sting. And he's stroking Reese, pumping up and down with a tight grasp. And then he's inside him, and Reese is whimpering, but Malcolm keeps going, one his hand at his brother's throat, the other pumping away. "Shh," he whispers, thumb rubbing Reese's neck.

And it's furious and rough, and Malcolm is practically pinning Reese to the floor as he fucks him.

"Malcolm," Reese whispers, shuddering, his eyes alight with panic. And Malcolm isn't listening, his face screwed up in concentration, lost in his own world of bliss. His strokes become faster and his pistoning quicker, and Reese can feel himself reaching the precipice. His faces grows flush, and his eyes roll back, and then they're both releasing and it's hot and sticky and disgusting, and relieving because it's over.

Malcolm leans forward, panting, laying his cheek against Reese's chest. He presses a soft kiss against the skin.

Reese swallows, looking up at the ceiling, breathing hard. "Get out of me," he mutters. He feels Malcolm nod against him and then he's withdrawing, and Reese lets out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in. Malcolm notices and looks at him questioningly, and Reese cracks him in the jaw. Not too hard, but enough to get the point across.

"Aw, fuck!" Malcolm rubs his lip sorely, glaring at Reese. "What the hell was that for? But Reese looks genuinely upset, so his glare morphs into concern. "Hey...are you okay?"

Reese shakes his head sharply. "Next time we're doing it like usual," he says firmly. "No more rough stuff."

"Okay, okay," Malcolm rolls his eyes. Reese grabs his shoulder and stares at him intently.

"I'm serious. That fucking freaked me out, alright?"

Malcolm's expression softened. His fingers intertwined in Reese's hair, and he pulled him into a quick hug. "Okay," he said sincerely. "I'm sorry."

Reese turns and places a chaste kiss against his cheek. "I forgive you."

And he's still a little panicked, but his words ring true.