Chapter Text
Hot. Yoojin feels unbearably hot.
Sticky skin and sweat clinging to clothes. An undeniable warmth blooms on his skin, underneath his skin—and Yoojin turns his head towards the source of it.
A body shuffles next to him, rustling blankets and sheets.
“...Yoohyun?"
He gets a murmur in response. His younger brother's voice comes out low and soft, uttered hotly into the crook of Yoojin's neck. He shivers. Yoohyun hooks his leg over his body and Yoojin cranes his neck to look over at his brother’s face, still sleepy from having just woken up. There’s an unspoken amount of affection in that face of his, the way his eyes are glazed over ever so slightly, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning,” Yoohyun says, directly from his heart; directly into Yoojin’s heart.
“...morning,” Yoojin replies, on auto-pilot more than anything else. He lolls his head back against the pillow and breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. It's hot and Yoohyun isn't helping. He's making it worse, actually.
Yoojin rolls over onto his side, facing away from his brother. Yoohyun's leg is a heavy anchor on his body and Yoojin struggles to find the energy to push it off. So he doesn't.
It's humid and the air is stifling: thick and dense and muggy—heavy like a sopping wet towel wrapped tightly around him. The blanket's swallowed the both of them up, trapping body heat. Yoojin tries to move and subsequently fails. He doesn't bother to try again; too much effort.
The husk of dawn filters in through the blinds, bathing him in a halo of warm yellow light. In another situation it would be comforting. Blue skies, a fresh breeze, the morning sun. Him and his younger brother at the beach, soaking in the heat of the sun's rays, tasting the saltiness of the sea as sand sinks beneath their feet. Yoojin regards it fondly, but in this situation, he merely covers his eyes with a groan.
Two's a symphony. He's not the only one groaning.
Yoohyun presses up against him and Yoojin immediately freezes in place.
There, grinding slowly against his ass, is Yoohyun. There, mouthing hot and wet kisses at his neck, is Yoohyun. His brother's fingers are cold as they encircle around his waist, feeling at the soft flesh of his stomach.
Yoojin’s mind short-circuits. It’s crackling electricity he thinks; should be, except it’s faded, far away, clouded over with fog and indistinct in all of the details that make up his consciousness. Yoohyun’s rutting against his body and everywhere he touches is hot, hot, hot. Not in a way that’s unpleasant; not in a way that burns, but in a way that spreads out like crackling fireworks against his skin, fast and electric like racing wires. Yoojin breathes. In through his nose, out through his mouth.
Yoohyun’s panting softly, his breath warm against his skin. Wet and humid. Everything is wet and humid. The air feels sticky, muddy, and Yoojin’s hair sticks to his forehead, the sides of his face. He’s sweaty and everywhere is damp.
His brother moves, rocking his hips against the back of him.
It’s hot; it’s wet. His brother against him, his brother’s tongue mouthing and kissing and licking at his neck. Yoojin’s head lolls to the side easily; gives him access. Yoojin’s core burns, throbs with the overwhelming want of it.
Yoohyun cradles the back of his head with his hand, runs his fingers smoothly down Yoojin's hair. Guides him closer, closer, into the pulse of his heart. Yoojin's breath comes out fast as Yoohyun drags his fingers down his body.
His brother's hand moves slowly, carefully, from clothed skin to exposed, his touch hot yet soothing at the same time. Like a balm. His fingers trace back up his knee, over his thigh, the touch slow, tantalizing, painful. Heat shoots up and explodes, burning. It’s the slow drag of it; every second passes with a teasing finality and Yoojin shudders into the sheets. Closer, please, closer, he thinks. More, more, give me more. He relinquishes the slow drag, the electric-hot feeling of his brother’s fingers against his skin. “Hyung,” Yoohyun whispers. His fingers slide up, up, slipped into the waistband of his boxers, still, so still, lying in wait. Yoojin’s mind races, fills with desires, with inexplicable thoughts. “Do you want this?” Yoohyun asks, fingers hovering.
Does he want this? Does he want this?
Of course he wants this. He's been wanting this. All he's ever wanted was this, he—
Yoojin jolts awake.
It’s hot, unbearably hot. Clothes sticking to skin and the morning sun peeking in through shut curtains. Gross and sticky and damp everywhere—absolutely everywhere. Yoojin squeezes his eyes shut; rubs at them with his hands enclosed tightly into fists.
What the hell?
Weird. A weird dream. Yoojin hasn't had a wet dream since he was a teenager, and he surely never had any dreams where the person touching him in his dream was his younger brother. Yoojin shakes his head as he shuffles into a new pair of boxers and discards the old into a laundry hamper in a forgotten corner of the room.
Better to forget. About this, about his dream. He's never had inappropriate thoughts about Yoohyun before; he's his precious little brother, and one little dream doesn't mean anything.
Forgetting is a little harder to do when his brother's as clingy as he is.
Yoojin doesn't mind it; not usually, anyway, but this time around it's a little harder to remain unbothered. They're curled up on the couch, Yoohyun's body pressed against his. His arms are wrapped around Yoojin's body in a tight embrace and Yoojin wants nothing more than to crawl out and away, which is unusual for him. And if it's unusual for him, it's going to be unusual for Yoohyun, too.
So Yoojin stays uncomfortable and restless, staying perfectly still so that nothing would seem out-of-the-ordinary. Yoohyun's warmth is overbearing and sticky rather than comforting, but Yoojin tries his best to appear as normal as possible. No fidgeting, no tensing, no shuffling.
But his brother is his brother, and his brother also happens to be acutely observant about all matters concerning Yoojin.
"Hyung?" Yoohyun asks, and Yoojin mentally cycles through every white lie he could use before Yoohyun finishes with, "Are you uncomfortable?"
Hugging his brother? Uncomfortable? Not usually.
Hugging his brother after one of the weirdest dreams he's ever had in his life? Unfortunately, yes, more than just a little uncomfortable. But that doesn't make it Yoohyun's fault, so Yoojin's not going to make it his problem.
It's just a dream anyway; no point in getting so worked up over a silly, stupid little dream.
So instead, Yoojin puts on his most convincing smile, rubs Yoohyun's shoulder, and lies through his teeth when he says: "Not at all."
"Goodnight, hyung." Yoohyun's by the doorway, back illuminated by the warm glow of the hallway lights. His form nearly blocks the door; he's gotten so broad and tall. "I love you."
"Goodnight. Love you," Yoojin replies. It comes out easily: automatic.
Yoojin settles into bed, pulling the blankets over himself. The door closes as Yoohyun exits and the light leaves with him. Left with only darkness, all by himself, Yoojin thinks about his dream again.
After all, why would he have a dream like that in the first place? Is he horny? Lonely? Sure he hasn't been in a relationship in some time now, but of all people to dream about, it had to be Yoohyun? He's never thought about him in that way. Why would he? Yoohyun is his brother! He practically raised him; it just doesn't make any sense.
But if he thinks about it, dreams as a whole just don't make much sense. It's not like he can control what he dreams about.
.
.
.
"Does it feel good?"
Yoohyun's whispering so gently into his ear, his breath ticklish against Yoojin's skin. He shudders, keens, leans back into Yoohyun's broad chest. His brother's fingers are around his cock and he's jerking him as he bounces him on his knee.
Yoohyun's hand is so firm and warm, wrapped tightly around him, and there's no way for it to feel anything less than good. Yoojin moans in response, eyes fluttering shut. He feels the press of Yoohyun's soft lips on his neck, then the playful swirl of his tongue.
Hushed, Yoohyun asks: "You want me, don't you?"
And Yoojin quickly nods; moves his arm up to grab at Yoohyun's face, pulling him in for a kiss.
He's close, so close, and Yoohyun's fingers feel so good, and as if rewarding him, Yoohyun quickens his pace.
His hand is so hot and slick, pumping up and down his shaft, just barely grazing at the head of his cock, and it feels good, it feels so good, feels better because it's his brother's fingers making him feel good and fuck, fuck, he's going to come—
Yoojin jolts awake.
His hand's sticky. He hurriedly washes it off, lathering soap on soap on soap. Sudsing, lathering. Rinse and repeat. On the hottest water setting as if to burn away the outer layer of his skin.
The sound of running water fills the room, and Yoojin stares at himself in the mirror. Sweat-slicked hair, flushed skin. He cups cold water into his hands and splashes his face repeatedly.
One wet dream about his brother is an anomaly. But two wet dreams? In a row?
Yoojin clasps the edge of the sink. Hangs his head and sighs because who the fuck has dreams about their brother like this? And the worst thing of all is that it had felt so real. It had felt good. It was just a dream, so it's not like it had any bearing on his actual desires because he's never once felt inappropriately towards Yoohyun, but within the dream, he had wanted it. Within the dream, he had wanted Yoohyun to kiss him, touch him, finish him off—all things a brother should never desire from his brother.
Fuck. What a weird dream. What's wrong with him?
"Hyung?"
Yoohyun's at the door, his hair mussed from sleep. There's a sleepiness to his eyes that reminds Yoojin of when Yoohyun was younger and it's so endearing that he almost forgets about the dreams. "Morning. Just woke up?"
Yoohyun yawns. "Yeah. I just wanted to check in on you. You've been in the bathroom for a while."
"Oh, sorry," Yoojin murmurs.
"It's okay."
Yoohyun smiles at him in that way his brother always smiles: fond, loving. Yoojin returns it naturally. How could he not, when his precious little brother's smiling at him? Yoojin smiles at Yoohyun, and then thinks of Yoohyun and his dream, and then his smile drops instantly as he clutches at the sink.
"Hyung?" Yoohyun asks again, more concerned this time. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me," he says, forcing a smile.
Yoohyun doesn’t look convinced: his younger brother is sharp. Yoojin tries to make his smile more convincing.
“Are you sure? You look pale, do you have a fever?” Yoohyun steps in closer, arm outreached until his hand is pressed flat against Yoojin’s forehead. Yoojin steps back hurriedly and receives a confused glance from Yoohyun in turn.
He swallows down the panic and provides a placating smile. “I’m okay, really. Just been having nightmares.”
“Nightmares?” Yoohyun asks, concern lining his features. “Do you want to talk about them?”
Shit. He slipped up. Should have just said nightmare, one, singular. Now Yoohyun's even more concerned. He doesn't want to worry him.
“No, but thanks, Yoohyun.” He smiles. He hopes it’s convincing. It seems to be enough, because Yoohyun nods, backing away and retreating into the doorway.
“Alright then. Breakfast will be ready soon, so come out when you're ready."
The door closes as Yoohyun leaves, and Yoojin releases a shuddery breath.
They're sitting at the dining table. A plate of warm food is set down before him and Yoojin glances up at his brother, who smiles warmly at him. Yoojin returns the smile. They're having steak and eggs: a fancier breakfast than what he's used to, so Yoojin gives Yoohyun a confused look as he asks, "What's the occasion?"
Yoohyun settles into the chair across from him. "I just wanted to prepare something a little different. Do you not like it?"
Yoojin shakes his head. "No, I like it. Thanks for the meal." He's grateful; really, he is. His brother's wonderful, preparing him such a nice, hearty meal, but he's wonderful even for just preparing him food everyday in the first place. Yoojin's grateful for a lot of things Yoohyun does for him. He truly has the best brother in the world—ignore the fact that Yoohyun is his only brother, and he doesn't exactly have a point of comparison to compare his relationship with his brother to anyway.
He glances down at his food and smiles to himself. His steak's cooked medium-well, his eggs are scrambled. Yoohyun's own plate holds a sunny-side up egg and a medium-rare steak with its reddish center; Yoojin watches as Yoohyun slices into his meat, juice oozing onto the plate. Yoojin's own steak has already been pre-cut for him; how thoughtful. It's endearing: Yoohyun taking the time to prepare his meal differently because he's aware that Yoojin likes his food differently.
Yoojin takes a bite, chews, swallows. The food is delicious; his brother’s a great cook, an entire world of recipes at his command. He's always been great at everything he does—a quick learner and proficient with details—but Yoojin finds himself enthralled and impressed by Yoohyun in different ways, at different times. This time too, he’s undoubtedly impressed by his brother once again.
Yoohyun’s looking at him expectantly. “How is it?”
Pride swells in his chest. Yoojin is always, always proud of his little brother. “It’s really delicious. My dongsaeng’s good at everything he does, huh?”
Yoohyun smiles in a way that reminds Yoojin of when he was just a child. There’s a bright, childlike quality to it, and he resists the urge to squeeze Yoohyun’s cheeks like he would when they were younger. His cheeks would be soft and plump and squishy, then. Yoojin almost regrets the sharp curvature of Yoohyun’s face now, all sharp and angled lines.
They sure do grow up fast.
They’re eating, replacing the clatter of cutlery with fond idle chatter when Yoojin feels it: the slow climb of Yoohyun’s feet against his ankle.
He waits; it must have been an accident.
Yoohyun’s foot crawls slowly up his leg, past his ankle, lands at his lower calf and continues to climb up, slow and tantalizing. It’s a violating feeling.
Yoojin stares in confusement. Moves his own leg away, the phantom of Yoohyun’s leg still lingering, ever-present on his skin.
Weird. That’s weird.
Yoojin looks up.
Yoohyun just smiles, fond and warm and unsuspecting. Yoojin’s leg burns, feels hot to the touch. He hopes the burn hasn't crossed to his face.
There is a weird knot that grows in the center of Yoojin’s stomach, and he quickly excuses himself.