Brother Knows Best

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: EDM

Ships: Zaslavskicest

Warnings: orgasm denial & anton woobification

Anton knows that Arkadi knows best for him. That’s how it’s always been, since they were kids and Arkadi had to stop him from trying to grab a fallen toy from the rails at the U-bahn station. Anton knows that good things come when he listens to his big brother.  

But that doesn’t make it feel any better in the moment.

Anton bites his lip as he watches Arkadi touch himself, legs sprawled across his King-sized bed. They’re dark with hair, contrasting against the pure white linen sheets; his boxers dangle half-obscenely from one ankle, and all Anton can do is watch with such hunger he practically salivates, mesmerized by the up and down motion, the way Arkadi’s slickened cock catches the light, how flushed and hot and fucking delicious it looks.

That’s the rule with Arkadi- Anton can look, but he can’t touch. Because that would be wrong. Because Arkadi is his brother. That would be disgusting. But he can watch. It’s weird, but not technically wrong.

Anton doesn’t really understand how this is any better, but if Arkadi says so, then it’s so. 

So, with his own cock painfully hard, practically screaming at him for attention, he sits on his hands and only imagines what he could do to Arkadi if the elder let him, how good his cock would taste. His eyes, deer-like and perpetually startled wide open, flit upward to soak in his brother’s expression; how he lets his head fall back just so, how his mouth rests half-open, soft moans escaping as he pleasures himself. Anton wishes he could feel the same, craves it as his aching, desperate cock remains pitifully untouched. His balls feel almost tight and over-full, begging for a release he knows he won’t get.  

Arkadi’s movements grow faster, more erratic- his hand almost stutters as he brings himself closer to the edge. Anton licks his lips in anticipation, even with his body feeling betrayed by his desire as he’s forced to watch half-jealousy. Arkadi moans out in pleasure as he brings himself to climax, clear white seed releasing into his hand, slickening his movements further as he works himself through orgasm. His face, though, that’s Anton’s favorite part of the view, the way his eyelids flutter and his mouth forms an obscene O. A low, guttural noise escapes him, and then he bites down on his lip as if trying to suck the sound back, until finally, his movements come to a still.

Anton tells himself he isn’t jealous, he’s happy just to have watched, but his aching, blue balls argue with that line of thought. They complain, whinge, and moan, and Anton simply tries his best to ignore. He clambers his way up the bed to Arkadi’s side, runs a hand through his hair.

“Good for you?”

“Ja,” Arkadi pants, breathlessly.

Anton reaches to the nightstand and hands him a tissue; dutifully, his brother wipes up his mess and sets the used tissue aside, before smiling up at him. Briefly, Arkadi’s gaze flits down to the tent in Anton’s pants, but it remains unsaid between them; Anton doesn’t get his release. Not now. Maybe he’ll go jack off in the shower later. But for now he wants to cuddle through Arkadi’s afterglow, even if it aches.