A/N: This lovely Stridercest fic is for my darling Hani. I hope you enjoy it, sweetheart!

Summary: After receiving yet another injury during a strife with Bro on the roof, Dave decides he's had enough. He just wishes things could go back to the way they were when he was younger, but he isn't expecting for Bro to react the way he does to this news. Stridercest, no Sburb. Rated M for language and adult content.

Description: There will be mild violence in the beginning of this fanfic. Dave is seventeen and Sburb is not present. In addition, I highly suggest readers STOP READING if they are not looking for incest pairings and a smut scene thereof. Dave and Bro's relationship is extremely awkward in this story! Kind of PWP?

Warnings: This story is rated M for several reasons, folks!

~Language
~Mild violence
~Adult content
~This means smut
~Sex
~Oral sex
~Butt fucking
~I think you guys get the gist of it
~Enjoy!

An End to the Strife

Dave growled, eyes locked in a squint behind his aviator shades and a snarl on his lips. His side was slashed open from Bro's katana, blood trickling from it at a steady pace and dripping onto the hot cement in bright red splotches. His own weapon lay useless several feet away, knocked out from his grip by one of Bro's expert disarming moves. Bro himself stood opposite his injured younger brother, expressionless and waiting for Dave to make his next move.

A cold bead of sweat crawled down the hot flesh of Dave's neck as he stood there weakly but steadily, dreading the next blow. The sun's torturously hot rays had him feeling miserable, and yet his current opponent seemed unfazed.

The fallen katana seemed to stare at him, tauntingly. Dave Strider knew from years of experience that the moment he reached for it, Bro would deliver the final winning slice, laced with bitter defeat and pain for its victim. But at the same time, Dave also knew there was no other option. If he did not attempt to retrieve his weapon, they would be standing there for hours more. Not retrieving it would be the same as being defeated without a fight, and he would never hear the end of it. There was only one thing that he could do.

Dave bit back a hiss of pain as he prepared to flashstep towards another lost battle. His brother had not moved from his previous position. Stationary. Almost like a statue.

The young Strider had barely moved when he felt the overwhelming sensation of the wind being knocked straight out of his lungs. The cement scraped and pulled at his shirt as the two brothers slid, the older on top of the other in a blurred tackle. His aching and now scraped back was relieved when friction finally conquered their opposing movement, bringing them to an abrupt halt. He panted heavily, glaring at the stoic face of that day's strife champion and feeling the cold metal of the sword pressing into his vulnerable neck.

He had lost. Not unlike any of the other strifes he had partaken in.

"Get off, Bro," he rasped. "You win, again. Now get the hell off."

Bro nodded and the blade disappeared from his throat, along with the one who wielded it. Dave sat up with a hacking cough, spitting the bloody mess to the side of him. He grabbed the katana and treaded heavily back inside, his body sore and his wound still bleeding. But even as it continued to bleed, he knew it would quickly be taken care of by none other than the one who had inflicted it. Ironic, Dave thought, pushing the door to the apartment open. He kicks your ass and then gets on his knees to kiss it better.

Dave hadn't always hated strifes with his brother. They used to be fun and nobody ever got hurt. Hell, half of the time Bro would end up just giving Dave a piggyback ride around the roof, and everything would be fine.

Then Dave got older. It turned into a competition, then a chore, and a pain after that. He and Bro barely spoke anymore except to order shitty fast food and Chinese takeout. Dave respected Bro and mimicked him in every fashion possible, only differing slightly in order to distinguish himself from the older Strider—but at the same time, his thoughts towards Bro grew increasingly hostile and resentful. He longed for the possibility that things could just go back to how they had been five, ten years ago, but was aware that the very idea was at best wishful thinking. A pitiful fantasy.

He was sitting on the beat-up sofa with the first aid kit in his lap. Dave trudged over to him and silently pulled his bloodied shirt over his head. He hated stitches, but if he refused he knew the scar would only be larger, take longer to heal, and more than likely get infected to hell.

The bleeding had slowed considerably. Bro wordlessly removed a needle and thread from the container he held and carefully began the process of closing the cut. Dave was careful not to make a sound. If he spoke so much as a single word, everything would come rushing out like a waterfall, and there would be no turning back.

But even in his silence, he watched.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. The needle continued to pass through his skin in the experienced fingers of his brother. They did not speak, or even make eye contact as the flesh of Dave's side was pulled back together once again. Dave glanced down and was surprised at what he saw.

Emotion.

Bro's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and over the top of his pointed sunglasses Dave was startled at just how light his eyelashes were. And if he tried hard enough, he could almost make out the color of—

"Dave." The boy jerked, startled. A quick look at his torso revealed he had been sewed up for a decent amount of time, as the blood had already been wiped clean with a towel. His gaze snapped back up to Bro and his expression turned hard again. He'd lost his cool and Bro had noticed this. It was the biggest unspoken rule of the Strider household. Never show your true self, because feeling was the weakness your enemies would use against you. Anger was acceptable, but never anything softer.

Bro's stare was piercing, even through the filter of his shades, but at the same time it was not as cold and unforgiving as usual. "I'm done."

Dave blinked. Surely he had noticed…why hadn't he called him out on it? Despite his confusion, Dave nodded and stood up with shirt in hand, shuffling at an easy pace to his bedroom with the slightest limp. He didn't understand how one person could make him so angry with no words and then completely puzzle him with only two.

He shut the door behind him with an exhausted exhale. The faces as well as plush rumps of several smuppets caught his eye and Dave grumbled in mild annoyance. He didn't understand how Bro thought it was acceptable to toss his stuffed puppets all around Dave's room as if it were some shared inside joke as opposed to the real reason; sheer irony. The teen had expressed to his older brother on several occasions that he didn't find the ass-bearing decoration humorous—but as evidenced by the several on his bed at the moment, he didn't seem to care.

The young Strider let out a defeated huff and plopped himself onto his bed amongst the puppets and sighed, his side still aching along with the rest of his badly beaten body. He'd considered talking to Bro about ending the strifes or at least toning them down a bit, but he feared that would be dangerously uncool. Bro would more than likely just ignore his request. His fingers trailed up his side and gingerly felt the new stitches he had received. This whole situation was confusing Dave and giving him extremely mixed emotions. At this point, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt, let alone what he wanted to do.

The doorknob turned without warning and swung open. Speak of the fucking devil.

Bro stood in the doorway with Lil Cal on his shoulder, as per usual. Dave had to hide his disgruntlement and nodded at his older brother casually. He found it amusing in a way, keeping a straight face despite the fact that he was incredibly upset and still shirtless; his body still spattered with the blood Bro had neglected to wipe clean. When neither of them spoke, Dave continued to stare silently. After all, Bro was the one who had come into his room—obviously he had to have wanted something. So why wasn't he saying anything?

Bro's mouth was a nearly straight line and Dave had no idea what the older Strider was really thinking, as his dumb triangle shades hid both of his eyes, getting rid of any chance that Dave might've had of figuring out what Bro was feeling. The corner of the younger brother's twitched in slight frustration as Bro continued to remain motionless. After another minute or so of awkward staring, with neither brother breaking the other's gaze, Dave snapped.

"Bro, what the hell do you want?" he growled, unable to hide his irritation. "Look, just standing there is fucking weird and I just had the shit slashed out of my side. I don't feel like fucking around, okay?"

Bro snorted and Dave was ready to lash out with gnashing teeth at his older brother when he found himself unable to even sit up, a hefty and unexpected barrier above his body making itself present. Cal was no longer sitting on the shoulder of Bro and had appeared to his right, unblinking eyes meeting crimson. The teenager blinked in surprise before sputtering at the body above him, "Bro, what the hell? Get off!"

Silence. The shades masking the face of his brother and opponent reflected his own flustered features, but at this point keeping his cool was the last thing on Dave Strider's mind. His hands flew up and began pushing against Bro's shoulders in a pathetic attempt to get him away. Bro's stubbornness and flat out weird behavior was driving Dave to the edge, and now he really was gnashing his teeth, growling, angrier than he could ever remember being—but he wasn't entirely sure what for. Even in the midst of his childish fit, he was aware that he was overreacting; however, truthfully, he hadn't expected how his brother would deal with it. And with that in mind, he hadn't expected how he would react either.

Bro's gloved hand effortlessly snatched up Dave's hands by the wrists and pulled them back until they were pressed against the hard wooden headboard. The younger Strider struggled for a moment more, still cursing up a storm, when he was finally silenced by something unfamiliar.

His eyes were wide open, something Dave was aware was definitely not appropriate for the situation. But from this minute distance, every detail of Bro's face was so sharp it seemed surreal for Dave to be in this position. The slight creases on his forehead, barely there but prominent enough that it was clear Bro was not always straight faced. Soft freckles covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, nearly identical to his brother's. Dirty blonde locks of hair, so close every strand stood out.

Dave's hands squirmed as if of their own accord in Bro's loosened grip, which seemed to set off alarms in the latter's head, his eyes flashing open just as Dave shoved his brother off of him and ending the one-sided kiss.

"Get out, Bro." Dave's voice was dangerously calm, and it seemed to rattle even Bro himself. It was completely out of character for the young Strider and to the surprise of both of them, Bro obeyed—disappearing from the room along with the almost forgotten Lil Cal. Dave sat up and stared at the door, trembling. His anger diminished, only to give way to overwhelming confusion and questionable guilt.

After a solid minute of being frozen in intense thought, Dave bolted over to the mirror hanging on his wall, whipping off his glasses and staring at his reflection in horror. His sewn up wound now at the bottom of his internal list of priorities, Dave's eyes began to well up with hot tears before he could stop them. Don't cry, don't cry, he thought to himself furiously—but the sobs that began to escape his throat betrayed his will and echoed throughout the house. There was no logical reason for him to be bawling like a child as he was right then in his room in the eyes of a Strider. And yet, even with this very knowledge screaming at him to pull himself together, the boy slumped onto the floor and wept.

After an hour or so of raw cries filling the apartment, it fell silent. Bro sat on the couch, fiddling with a smuppet nose nervously. He'd fucked up badly, he knew that much. He doubted that Dave knew his true intentions behind the strifes and the irony of their lifestyles, but whatever the younger Strider had processed regarding all of it had sent him into a well deserved—not to mention extremely delayed—reaction. And what kind of older brother kissed a sibling like that? What kind of older brother would intentionally deliver a severe injury to his own blood relative?

No, knock that shit off, Bro thought to himself. He'd had this argument with himself before and knew that the battles they had would make Dave stronger, and throughout the years, Dave had never complained. With this thought, a pang of guilt slammed into the older Strider. Maybe Dave had kept it to himself for so long that it had just built up until he couldn't handle it, and today had finally pushed him over the edge.

Bro shook his head and fixed his shades before standing from the rugged couch to go check on his younger brother. In the back of his mind, a nagging thought whispered that he was the last person Dave wanted to see right now, but his gut told him to suck it up and check on the lil man to see if he was all right.

He casually made his way from the living room back over to Dave's bedroom, all the while laughing to himself. If only Dave knew how unusually expressive and concerned his Bro was being; there was no doubt it would shake his reputation, if not sending it straight into the ground. He shook his head again and gritted his teeth before cautiously reaching for the doorknob in front of him. He hoped to God intruding on his brother's privacy immediately after his first sob session since he was a toddler wasn't the wrong decision.

The door flew open before Bro even had time to act. Dave had put a clean, bloodless shirt on and walked past without a word, almost as if he hadn't even seen Bro there. Bro exhaled sharply and turned to face his brother's retreating back. "Dave. What the fuck is going on?"

He froze, posture rigid and fists clenching, before whirling around with flushed cheeks and a strong glare present on his usually stoic features. "You want to know what's going on?" he responded with eyelids visibly swollen from earlier. Bro noticed with surprise that he was not wearing his shades, but Dave continued before he could interject. "I'm tired of the strifes, Bro. I'm tired of your smuppets all over my god damn room. I'm tired of you beating the shit out of me and then thinking it's perfectly normal to fix me up like nothing's wrong. And then you think you can pull some mushy gushy shit on me? It's not ironic, and I'm...I'm done with your shit, okay?"

For once, Bro was speechless without choice. He stared in shock at the trembling figure in front of him, unsure if Dave was about to burst into tears again or attack him.

"I'm sorry."

Dave's eyebrows furrowed. Had Bro just...apologized? He hadn't planned his outburst in the least, but he was more astonished that Bro had said sorry—something he'd never heard before in his life. Regret washed over the boy and his body relaxed from his tense position. He didn't blame Bro for being surprised. Hell, he didn't think the idea of Dave disapproving of their daily rituals and lifestyle in general had ever even crossed his mind. He was just raising his little brother in the only way he knew how, and despite the teen's former resolve to stand his ground, he crumbled, running into Bro's arms and grabbing frantically in a tight hug.

Bro stood unresponsive for a second or two before slowly wrapping his arms around the much smaller Strider, careful not to touch the wound on his side and instead placing a hand on the back of Dave's head to bring him closer to his chest as they embraced awkwardly for the first time in several years.

Dave pulled back after another moment, chest still heaving from his recent rant. He avoided eye contact and muttered, "I'm going to go get some AJ."

Bro considered raising an eyebrow but instead followed his little brother to the kitchen to indulge him in some apple juice. He honestly didn't think as highly of the beverage as Dave did, but he figured it would make the little man satisfied. Truthfully, the man was relatively dreading the upcoming discomfort in his relationship with his younger brother. He couldn't be certain whether the change would be for the better or worse, but as he watched Dave half-heartedly grin at the juice container resting on top of the shitty swords, he decided as weird as it was, what happened today was inevitable.

Dave took a long draw from the container, not bothering to grab a glass, because using cups wasn't cool whatsoever. He eyed Bro from the corner of his eye as he drank, who was leaning against the counter. A pang shot through Dave as he remembered the previous events in his bedroom, and he yanked the juice away from his mouth, choking and coughing in an incredibly unattractive fashion.

Bro smirked and grabbed the container from Dave's outstretched hand and took a swig, much to the apparent fright of Dave. "Are you—?" he asked, wiping the spit from his lip. "Are you drinking my apple juice?"

"Hey, dicknuts, I bought it. It's my juice too," the older brother responded, eyeing Dave through his shades and setting the juice on the counter next to him and several stray smuppets in a blender. He noticed the teen cringe slightly, most likely wanting to say something but at the same time knowing better. "And besides, big deal. You don't like sharing?"

Dave frowned, leaning against the opposite countertop and staring down Bro. Man, if he'd known things were going to be this weird as the aftereffect of his outburst, he would've held his tongue. Honestly, the silence between them was less uncomfortable than having conversations like this. He sighed. "Whatever. Drink up; I'm going back to my room. Don't follow me."

Bro frowned. That wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for at all. He needed to have a proper talk with Dave so they could sort this shit out before it got even more unpleasant. But maybe it was too soon? He watched Dave turn the corner and without a second thought, bolted out of the kitchen and flashstepped in front of the blonde.

"Bro, not now, please?" Dave groaned, dramatically gesturing to his sewn up side. "I want to lie down."

"We're going to talk, lil man. And no, that's not a request. C'mon."

"Dude, no. I don't want to have a fucking heart to heart right now."

"Dave."

Dave growled and marched his way over to the sofa reluctantly. He just wished Bro could leave him alone for a while. Today was just not going his way, he thought as he watched Bro plop down next to him, arm resting on the back of the couch. There was no possible way he was going to be getting out of this without a fight, and considering his current physical condition, that was the last thing he needed.

"Look," Bro began, taking hold of the brim of his hat to place it on the coffee table. "I don't know why you didn't speak up earlier, and I'm not going to ask. I get you need a break, okay? But putting all the image and shit aside, you've gotta tell me this stuff."

Dave shifted impatiently into the cushions, staring intently at his feet. Then again, an escape attempt wasn't that farfetched now that he thought about it. If he threw Lil Cal across the room, that would probably provide a good enough distraction for him to have enough time to lock himself in the bathroom.

"Dave, I—look, just, tell me what you want."

What? He glanced up, a frown evident on his features. Bro was acting seriously odd and Dave wanted nothing more to just start the day over so none of this would have happened. "Uh…what?"

Bro sighed and leaned towards Dave. "What do you want? To stop fighting? To get rid of the smuppets in your room? Just what do you want?"

Dave's eyes darted around the room nervously, seriously weirded the fuck out. "Well, I mean, I'm just having an off day and I'm just not totally thrilled I'm injured, so I think I'll go to my—what the fuck? Bro!"

And for the second time that day, the Striders were in a compromising position, the two instances nearly identical with the exception of location. Only this time, Bro wasn't expressionless. There was something there for sure, but Dave couldn't read it.

Only this time, Dave didn't fight back.

You're making a mistake, you're making a mistake. This thought echoed through both of their heads as they stared each other down, muted orange on red. Callused fingers trailed up the surface of Dave's face and cautiously removed his glasses. Dave wanted to scream, snatch them back, and hide his hideously freakish eye color from his brother—although this would have been totally uncalled for and foolish; the man had raised him, for fuck's sake. The shades in question were tossed onto the carpeted floor, along with Bro's. With that, Dave saw Bro's eyes for the first time in his seventeen years of life.

Perhaps it was sexual frustration, teenage lust, or plain stupidity, but the boy allowed his lips to be caressed by his own flesh and blood—no, not just allowing it, but he was responding in a manner that was the polar opposite of socially acceptable. Hands drifting through dirty blonde hair, head tilting this and that way, and desperately wishing he and his older brother had done this before. A forbidden and angst filled exchange of passion in the middle of the cluttered living room of a small apartment, going unseen by anyone who would protest. It was only them, and no one to stop it.

Dave was trapped underneath Bro, awkward and squirming, while the eldest Strider was in the dominant position and expertly gliding his tongue past his brother's chapped lips, Dave's eyes fluttered from the new sensation, unsure if he should recoil or embrace the situation. And despite this conflict inside his head, his body continued to act as if of its own accord. His hips lifted his rear off the couch, searching for an increase of contact and a form of release. Even his hands, which were still laced through Bro's hair, tightened their grip on the locks and were roaming through them aimlessly.

Dave's eyes drifted open—when had he closed them again?—when he felt Bro break away, only to have a wild, embarrassing groan escape his lips. His back arched dangerously as Bro's teeth and tongue worked magic on the sensitive surface of his neck. He stared half-lidded at the ceiling, soft breaths drifting past his lips like smoke in the air. Fingers clenching the side of the sofa kept him from making any further noise as he guiltily found himself enjoying Bro worshipping his younger brother's body. This was wrong, and he wanted to be disgusted with both himself and the older Strider for even letting it get this far—and yet, neither of them putting in a single word of protest.

It was a forbidden form of intimacy that would have had Dave cringing at any other time. He had had friends make incest-related jokes regarding the two Striders and had responded with multiple swear words and slight nausea. Bro was there to provide food, video games, puppets, and battles; Bro wasn't meant to be running his fingers past the hem of Dave's shirt and making their way up his torso teasingly. Bro wasn't supposed to be barely brushing his lips against the wound he had inflicted upon his younger brother, and yet it was happening at that very moment.

A breathy gasp broke the silence of the room as Bro swiftly slipped Dave's shirt over his head without even having to sit him up. He glanced down at his older brother and managed to say, "Bro, wait, slow down."

He froze, almost as if time itself had stopped. The nature of the situation seemed to dawn on him and a flash of guilt crossed his expression as he glanced up to meet the other Strider's gaze. They stared at each other for a moment more; Dave flushed and breathless, Bro confused and lips still moist. He blinked and sat up awkwardly between Dave's legs, asking himself, why the fuck are you sporting a hard-on from your little brother? This is the definite wrong way to fix the relationship between the two of you.

Dave noticed his Bro's glassy eyed look and knew all too well what that meant—Bro was freaking the fuck out. Not that he blamed him; Dave was just as rattled. But as the younger blonde sat up and gently pushed his brother down on the other side of the couch onto his back, he realized at this point there really was no turning back. Bro's eyebrows turned down into a frown, not entirely sure what Dave had in mind. Dave sighed and leaned over Bro, hands on either side to support his weight. "Listen, Bro…

"I know this is totally fucked up and is the worst possible way to deal with a problem. Hell, I don't even know if I want to go through with this yet. But we've come this far, right?" Dave pauses and sheepishly looks down. Bro's white polo has barely visible specks of blood on it, despite the color contrast, and was more than likely from his brother's wound. "I just…if this does happen…afterwards, can we just drop the act?"

"Okay."

One beautiful word, like music to his ears. Approval. He'd finally agreed to ending all their violent and inappropriately ironic shit—yes, it was in an incredibly strange position and situation, but Dave was beyond relieved. Okay. Maybe things could be a little more normal.

Not that incest was normal, he thought amusedly to himself, a small smile gracing his features as he carefully placed himself between Bro's legs. But at least now he had Bro's word that things could and were going to change. He'd waited years for those two syllables of agreement.

Now with a burden lifted off his shoulders, Dave shyly reached for the button of Bro's jeans and awkwardly opened it before reaching for the zipper. His hands were pulled away by another before he could pull it open, but a shared look between Striders got rid of any worry the younger might have had.

Bro reached down himself and lifted his hips up to pull his jeans down enough for Dave to have easy access to his now straining erection. Dave swallowed loudly as Bro slowly pulled it free from the constrains of his briefs.

It was huge.

With wide eyes, Dave cautiously lay himself on his stomach and crawled closer to Bro, elbows resting on his brother's hips. There was no way it was even humanly possible for a dick to be that big, Dave thought to himself, taking it in one hand. His was not even close to being as large as Bro's, and it was almost intimidating. Would he choke on it? Probably, but he couldn't chicken out now. Striders always followed through.

Dave's tongue dragged over the head of Bro's shaft, earning a soft exhale from its recipient. It wasn't unpleasant to the taste, Dave mused to himself, licking wetly from the base back up to the tip. And it was turning him on to no end—he noted with mild embarrassment that his pants were bulging. Bro was warmer than he had expected, and his arousal was far more attractive than Dave's own. He hoped kissing it would be okay, as he followed suit to the approval of the older Strider, acknowledged by a clenched jaw and a head tilted back.

Dave's lips enveloped Bro's member in one quick motion, to the surprise of both brothers. Dave was relieved he was able to take the entirety of Bro's dick without choking, and began to swirl his tongue around the hot erection in his mouth. Bro was now groaning freely, having been surprised by the sudden pleasure. His fingers laced through Dave's hair, feeling as if they needed something to hold on to.

But at the very same time, Bro Strider was not the only one very nearly lost in the sensation. It wasn't the older brother's first sexual experience, but seventeen-year-old Dave was driving blind at this point, only initiating what he himself would enjoy. It wasn't the same as having it done to him at all, but there was a deep feeling of satisfaction in giving a usually stone faced man this kind of feeling.

He pulled up and released Bro's shaft with a pop. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he laughed nervously and mumbled something about his jaw getting tired when Bro sat the both of them up without a word, carefully stripping Dave naked before removing his own clothes. Not a word of protest emerged from the teen's lips as his brother guided him off of the sofa and picked him up bridal style.

"Your room or mine?" he asked jokingly, bringing a smirk to Bro's face. The fact that this was the most casual conversation that the two of them had carried out in years was somewhat ironic. It was also slightly uncomfortable with the present fact that both of them were stark naked with rock hard cocks, but for some reason it didn't seem to faze Bro. Dave realized with a start that they were headed to Bro's room, which was a rare occurrence.

Holy shit, they were going to fuck in Bro's room.

Bro carefully let Dave down, making sure not to take any risk of ripping open the fresh stitches. "Get on your hands and knees, lil man."

"Yeah, okay," he murmured, climbing onto the bed in a partial daze. His instincts begged for him to give his aching length some relief, but the blonde's common sense told him to be patient and do whatever the hell Bro told him.

He felt a little exposed with his ass in the air as it was, but to Bro it was a sight to behold. The lanky teen's body was so beautiful to the older Strider it was almost sobering. He got on his knees behind his brother and ran his hands up his thighs, marveling at how smooth they were. Dave shivered and then—

"Holy shit."

Dave startled at the unfamiliar probing, but at the same time pushed back against Bro's tongue. He let out a soft groan and clutched the sheets in his fists as his most private parts were worshipped by his brother's mouth and hands. Had it been with any other man, he would have never allowed it whatsoever, but for some reason, this was far more than all right.

Bro's hand rhythmically pumped Dave's aching arousal as he continued to lick and kiss the squirming teenager's entrance. The younger Strider was now moaning without abandon, profanity and shameless pleas being cried out beyond his control.

The heated contact suddenly disappeared and Dave's body went limp. He panted and glanced to his side where Bro was opening a bedside drawer. After a moment or two of digging through whatever was inside, his hand emerged with a slim bottle of what appeared to be—?

Dave's eyes widened. Lube. Definitely lube.

Bro slipped his gloves off and drizzled a small amount of the liquid onto his fingers, spreading it with his thumb and glancing over at his younger brother. "You okay, lil man? I'll stop."

"No, please," he responded in a tone he didn't know he was capable of. It was humiliatingly desperate and breathless, and combined with his spread, eager legs, he doubted his image was anywhere near saving. "I…I mean, you can go ahead."

Bro gave him a look of skepticism but nodded and placed a steadying hand on Dave's back. "This might feel a little weird," he warned, and proceeded to ever so slowly push his index finger inside his brother.

Dave continued to squirm and breath heavily, impatiently demanding that Bro hurry up and stop treating him like a wimp, he could take more than one finger, for fuck's sake. This sent Bro chuckling and acknowledging Dave's comments, pushed another finger in.

Dave sighed as he felt the digits slide inside him. The lubricant kept from any real pain being caused to him, and though it was undoubtedly a little uncomfortable, Dave was admittedly glad it wasn't anywhere close to being as painful as he had imagined. He began to rock his hips back and forth on Bro's fingers. He wasn't feeling any intense pleasure from it at all, but the Strider figured there would eventually be a sweet spot of sorts that would have to be there.

"Eager fucker, huh?" Bro laughed, taking the opportunity to push another finger in. Dave slowed as the new digit made its entrance due to the mild discomfort from the stretching of this previously untouched area. However, despite this, he did not complain and continued to push himself on Bro's fingers, sighing as he felt a lucky hit to what he assumed was his prostate.

Bro was now desperately turned on, and seeing Dave fuck himself in front of him was almost more than the man could bear. He pulled his hand away—earning halfhearted complaints from the younger blonde—and squeezed a generous amount of the lubricant onto his straining erection, stroking it a few times for good measure. "Hey, Dave?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

He closed his eyes, rest his head on the pillow, and smiled. "Yeah."

Bro placed one hand on Dave's hip and the other on his slick member, positioning himself carefully. "I'm gonna start off slow, because this is probably gonna hurt, okay?"

Dave responded with nothing other than quick breathing, silently just hoping Bro would hurry up already. But even if they had been spoken, his intentions would have fallen upon deaf ears. Bro was sure to meticulously pace himself bit by bit, stopping every few seconds to get Dave to adjust. The younger blonde was now thankful that Bro had taken his time—he'd almost forgotten just how big his brother was.

It was around two minutes before Bro was fully sheathed in the heat of Dave's inner walls. Dave's hand reached down to stroke his abandoned arousal as Bro slowly pulled out, and then in again. The pace gradually increased in unison with the cries and groans of pleasure from both ends. Dave was now clutching the headboard of the bed for dear life, very nearly screaming yes, Bro, please, fuck me harder—to which Bro obliged, hands gripping the teen's waist tightly and his own hips slamming into his brother's backside at a dizzying pace.

"Yes, yes, please," Dave cried out, "I'm so fucking close, Bro, please don't stop!"

Bro's left hand released Dave's waist and reached down to pump Dave's barely twitching cock. Bending down without slowing his pace, he murmured with a gravelly tone into the blonde's ear, "Come for me, Dave."

Almost as if those very words themselves had flipped a switch inside his body, Dave screamed his release, one more intense than he had ever experienced before. Bro followed shortly after, a low groan accompanying Dave's high pitched moans.

Panting, Dave collapsed onto his stomach, heaving from the sheer force of his orgasm. Bro lay down with a bit more control, his hand taking Dave's into his own and squeezing it gently. He hoped with all his willpower that having sex with his little brother hadn't fucked things up royally, but the exhausted boy's next words got rid of any fear he had.

"I love you, Bro."

He smiled. God, this was so fucking cheesy. "I love you too, Dave."

I'd love a review! An author does need feedback in order to improve. I'll also consider any requests for future fanfics you guys might have :)