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Dennis has been…weird…for the past two weeks. Like, weirder than usual. Ever since the invitations for his graduation party came in the mail, cream-colored card with golden script embossed on it and a date for…sometime soon.
Since Mrs. Kelly, three bottles deep and stumbling over Bunny and Candy's toys strewn on the ground, dragged her finger along the two black names at the top and read out, Frank Reynolds, before sighing, too dreamily for his liking, and spilling her guts, and the rest of her wine, about their disgusting tryst about twenty-three years before. About other failings of Charlie's that resulted in him, nine months later, being forced to sit at his own kitchen table and hear the details of his own conception.
Dennis had gone pink when Charlie told him, tears in his eyes and rambling faster than he could even really think. Pink and really, really quiet. Dee had gone pale, and then green, and then ran out of the room and hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the night, even when Mac came back from the bathroom and they all had to keep watching the movie like nothing was wrong. Dennis had hardly said another word, clutching a pillow to his chest all night and not even driving them home after.
Dee eventually went back to normal, admitting late at night while Charlie let her paint his nails that his parents fuck a lot of people without the other knowing, and sometimes with the other knowing, and that it doesn't really matter. Probably half the kids at school were Frank's little bastards one way or another. Which didn't really make him feel better, but didn't make him feel any worse. So he guessed that was good.
Dennis was not so quick to come back around. Every time Charlie looked up when they hung out, Dennis was already staring at him, like he hated him now or something. Like it was his fault his mom slept with their dad, that he was born in the first place. He didn't bring it up again, though, and Charlie was glad; he can hardly look at his mom, who doesn't remember anything beyond how pretty the invitations are, and Charlie doesn't want to hash it out about something he'll have to admit knowing about in the first place.
It's also…confusing, really. Dennis stares at him so intensely Charlie feels the heat of his anger even when he's done nothing new to earn it, but he also notices how touchy Dennis has gotten in the past couple days. How much Mac has had to give up his permanent spot in the middle of the couch, how Dennis seems to envelope his whole hand when he hands him things, or lets his hand fall to Charlie's thigh when they smoke weed and get just high enough not to comment that he never used to do that before. It makes Charlie's whole body itchy and his heart pound.
Before, he knew why. He understood the butterflies in his stomach when their skin brushed, when Dennis wrapped his arms around their shoulders in a hug or Mac cuddled up to Charlie's side when they all slept next to one another in each other's beds or the basement pull-out couch. Or the way his head goes light when either of them laugh too hard at his jokes, the way it feels when he notices Mac staring at his lips too long, or Dennis watching him while he changed for gym class.
Now, Charlie doesn't know. It's…they're brothers now. And brothers means you don't feel that way about each other anymore. Or at all. Or ever. It means you never felt that way and don't still.
But it still feels like he does, and he can't stop thinking about it at all, especially not when Mac is off at church, and it's the first time he and Dennis have been alone since the news, and Charlie goes from staring at the TV as hard as he can to having to stop because Dennis is crawling on top of him.
"What're you doing?" His arms fly out from where Dennis' legs almost trap them, splayed wide so he doesn't touch him, terrified of the electricity he feels all along his skin whenever they make contact. His eyes are dry and burning but he can't blink, he can't, can't miss a single second of this like he so very obviously already has. "Dennis?"
"Been thinking since you came and talked to us the other day…" Dennis mumbles, his voice unexpectedly deep as he settles in Charlie's lap, knees bracketing Charlie's hips. He's in a soft, worn shirt and ratty pajama pants, his hair loose and curling in the way he hates. Charlie knows he isn't supposed to think it, isn't supposed to know such a terrifying truth, but he's gorgeous like this. Dennis curls his long fingers in the nape of Charlie's neck and Charlie tries to shift away so Dennis can't feel the heat that curls and twists around his insides.
"About what?" His voice cracks, but Dennis doesn't comment on it, and he's grateful as much as he is terrified.
Dennis is so close he can smell his toothpaste, and Charlie doesn't have time to wonder when he brushed his teeth before they're kissing. Charlie's eyes flutter shut, he can't help it, arm closing in to splay his hand wide on the small of Dennis' back. All those whispers from the popular girls were true, Dennis' kiss has him dizzy even as he sits still, mouths burning hot and slotting together perfectly.
Charlie fights moaning, even when Dennis deepens the kiss, straightens up so he towers over him the way he would if they were standing. Dennis sighs, his chest brushing against Charlie's own as he cups his jaw in both hands, always cold against his skin. He lifts himself up so he can grind down, both of them hard against one another. Charlie gasps, grabs at Dennis' shirt desperately as he tears himself away from the intoxicating warmth of him. Dennis whines, pulls back so he can shove his shirt off before reconnecting their lips.
"Wait, wait, no," he pants, even as he moves his head to allow Dennis to burrow into his neck. His hands tremble like an earthquake as he touches the skin of Dennis' ribs, just in case they come to their senses. Just in case he never gets to again. "This…this is fucked up. This is so fucked up, we're…we're related, dude!"
Dennis nips at his neck and Charlie grips him tighter, feels like he's in a car without a seatbelt that's careening off the side of a fucking mountain. His breath dampens his collarbone and Charlie swears he's going to go crazy, he's gonna fucking lose it, but he can't find it in him to push Dennis away. He can't find it in himself to even want to.
Dennis pauses, though, at that, the fluttering of his eyelashes making Charlie jump out of his own skin. "It's not fucked up if you want it."
He slides his hand down Charlie's chest, slower and slower until he's pressing a trail down his belly. Charlie goes rigid when Dennis edges his fingertips under Charlie's waistband and cups him over his boxers, biting his lip. "Do you want it, Charlie?"
Charlie clears the bowling ball in his throat. His cock twitches under Dennis' hand, and the way Dennis looks at him he knows he won't be able to lie.
"Yeah," he whispers, sweat prickling along every inch of his skin. "Yeah, I want it."
"Then it's fine," Dennis trails his mouth up Charlie's face. His arm moves out of Charlie's line of vision and then he's throwing a bottle of lotion Charlie keeps in the end table next to them.
Charlie feels like his heart is about to pop. "But it's…Do you remember what I told you last week?"
Dennis chuckles under his breath, gets up on his knees so he can shove his pajamas down his hips. Meanwhile Charlie can't breathe, miles of marbly-pink skin revealed inch by inch. He leans forward, kisses his temple, lips dragging along his cheek, his jaw, before his sharp canines graze against earlobe. "I remember."
He sits back on Charlie's knees so he can kick off the pants the rest of the way. Charlie's mouth goes dry at the divots of his hips, the shadow of his abs against the window. His cock is already hard, long and thin, flushed pink and bobbing in the morning air, sweeps of fine brown hair on his legs. He has no pubes, but Charlie knew to expect that, since he's been blabbering about how much he hates having them since they fucking met him.
Charlie tries to remind him, to say it again, but what's the point? Dennis knows, and he doesn't care. And there's nobody around. And he looks so fucking gorgeous like this, and Charlie's wanted this for so long. And he thought he'd never get to have it. Especially with Dennis, who he always assumed would be the one blocking anything ever happening between any of them.
He surges forward, grabbing Dennis by the head so he can kiss him with everything he has. It's fine, it's too late, and the damage has already been done. Dennis smiles, pushes them back so Charlie is pressed into the couch. Charlie doesn't open his eyes, doesn't care to, fumbling down his body until he can wrap a hand tentatively around Dennis' cock. Dennis whines, leans forward so Charlie is pinned to the couch without breaking their kiss.
Dennis knocks into his hand, rolling his hips into Charlie's hand while he dives between his own legs.
"What're y'doing?" Charlie asks, thumbing Dennis' slit. He doesn't really know how to do this to another person, but he'd get on his knees and beg if Dennis asked him right now, would let him kick him in the dick if that's what'd make him happy.
"F-Fingering myself." He gasps when Charlie squeezes his dick in surprise, groaning harshly in Charlie's ear. He grins, but Charlie can't see it, can only feel the shining line of his teeth pressed over his jugular. "You're gonna fuck me, Charlie."
"Fuck, okay." He grinds up against the back of Dennis' hand, cock aching. "Yeah, yes. Yes."
And he doesn't really understand, why Dennis suddenly wants this so bad. He doesn't fucking stop, keeps jerking him off while Dennis bucks and moans and opens himself up, but he really doesn't understand why telling Dennis would make what they've clearly both wanted more likely to happen.
"Fuck, fuck!" Dennis spits, Charlie's hand relentless around him. Charlie startles as he wrenches his hand out from between them and wipes it on the couch. "Can't, can't fucking wait anymore. N-Need…taking too…fuck."
He attacks Charlie's pants like a man possessed, eyes glazing over at the first sight of Charlie's cock, pulled stupidly out of his pajamas without pushing them down. It's not the biggest dick in the entire world, and Dennis' isn't the smallest, but there's a noticeable difference between the two of them, enough that a small surge of pride runs through him. He's always been the short one, but here he measures up more than enough.
"Shit," Dennis breathes, his mouth wet and shiny like he's about to start drooling. "Not much of a family resemblance there, huh?"
Charlie stares up at him, cheeks burning through the realization. "That's what this is about," he says. It's not a question. It's not something Dennis needs to confirm.
Dennis bites his lip, doesn't answer. He just inches forward, lifts himself up on his knees so he can line Charlie's cock up with his hole, wet and open and eager. Charlie supports almost all of the weight of his upper body, can feel Dennis' panting against him, the thrum of his blood, their blood, underneath his skin.
"You like it." Charlie fights thrusting upwards, the tight heat of Dennis all-encompassing and not enough. He's never done this with another guy, but when he fucked Stacy she was wetter than this; looser too. He figures more lotion, maybe more fingers would have been better, but they're well past that. "You're turned on by…by the fact that we're brothers."
Dennis gasps, rocks back on the half of Charlie's cock stretching him wide. "Sh-shut…shut…"
Charlie turns, bites the soft space between Dennis' jaw and his neck, jerks just the head of Dennis' cock until his whole body starts shaking. "That's what you want, isn't it? Dude, you don't just want to get fucked, you wanna get fucked by your brother!"
Charlie fucks up into him at the same time Dennis' knees give out, sinking inside of him to the base as Dennis shouts in his ear and comes over his hand, clenching tight around Charlie's cock.
Everything is quiet for the scariest seconds of Charlie's life. He raises his hand to his mouth, absentmindedly licking Dennis' cum from his fingers. "Do…do you want help getting…down?"
Dennis shakes his head, languid and spent but still alert. "No. No, no no. I said…you're gonna fuck me, bro. So fuck me. Don't hold a fucking thing back, Charlie. I want it…" He stutters over his words, hand trembling as it pushes against Charlie's chest, clenching around Charlie's cock inside him. "I want it."
Charlie nods, grips Dennis' hair tight so he can drag him into a kiss before gripping his hips hard. He's near-delirious with how fucking turned on he is, and Dennis is flushed almost red all the way down his body, the heady scent of him engulfing Charlie's senses until all that's left is Dennis, and Charlie can't tell where his own self has gone.
Dennis hisses when Charlie starts moving, using his limp weight to gain momentum until he can fuck Dennis in earnest, the smack of their skin together filling the room over Dennis' whines. He's so hot around him, just for him, and god he knows they shouldn't be doing this, but it feels too right to ever fucking stop.
"I…I know you like it, too," Dennis pants in between his girly whining, his voice ragged and gravelly as he wraps his own hand around his cock, hard again and leaking on the trail of hair on Charlie's stomach. He can't be louder than a whisper, but it cuts through the fog of his head like a knife.
"Yeah…yeah…like…you feel so good," Charlie admits, his face burning.
But Dennis just laughs at him, shakes his head. "F-Felt you…when you said…when you made me come." Charlie squeezes his eyes shut, fucks Dennis harder and harder in just the right spot until he's gripping Charlie's shoulders and whimpering, but still he doesn't stop. "You like the idea of fucking me, too."
"'Cause…Not…not like that," Charlie insists, tries to push everything they are to each other out of his head, tries to expel everything he learned in the past two weeks. "That's…you're so fucked up."
But he's right. As much as he wants to lie, doesn't want Dennis to bring it up because he's right, the fact of the matter is it's the hottest thing he's ever even thought about. It's so much different when he wants it, when it's Dennis, and it's Dennis.
"C'mon…c'mon…" Dennis grits out between clenched teeth. The notches of his knuckles beat furiously into Charlie's stomach as he chases his orgasm, clenching so tight around him Charlie fears he'll have to slow down. No, no. He can't, he can't. "Fuck me, Charlie. W'nt you to come in me, can…can you do that?"
"I…I…D—"
Dennis kisses his neck as best he can while Charlie bounces him on his cock. "Come on. Know you can. Come for me, Charlie. Come inside your little brother."
"Den," Charlie warns, his whole body detonating as his orgasm tears itself from him, slamming into Dennis as hard as he can as he comes. Distantly, he can feel Dennis coming too, the drops of it hitting his skin, but mostly he's lost in the waves of his own release, thrusting weakly into Dennis like he couldn't stop if he wanted to.
"Fuck," Dennis whispers, and all Charlie can do is nod, go when Dennis pulls him into another soft, fluid kiss.
He just came inside his brother. And it was the best orgasm of his life.
The warm bubble the two of them created around the huddle of their bodies is shattered by the basement door opening, Mac's constant monologue already chirping in their ears as he stumbles his way down the stairs.
Fuck.