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“Honestly, Julius, you could have at least locked the door.”
Ludger’s eyes are burning. His hands are shaking. His heart is in his throat.
“It was locked. He has a key. He lives here, remember?”
He’s still holding the pan loosely in one hand. The sound it made when it struck is ringing in the back of his skull.
“And you brought me here knowing he could come home any minute? Disgusting, Kresnik. I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist.”
The word Kresnik cuts through the white noise echoing through him. Ludger blinks the scene back into focus. Immediately, he wishes he hadn’t.
In front of him, with pants around his knees and a bruise already forming on his forehead, is Julius. Sprawled across the dining table, legs akimbo and with entirely too much on display, is Rideaux. Neither of them are even talking to him—neither are even looking at him. And Ludger, he... he just, he hit Julius. He just struck Julius. But, but Julius was forcing it, Rideaux was saying no and, and...
At last, Julius’s attention shifts. His brother looks at him and seems to really see him. It’s such a relief. The person Ludger knows and loves finally floods back into Julius’s expression, concern and warmth and something shame-like taking root upon him. “Ludger, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to...”
Rideaux’s mimicry of Julius’s tone is surprisingly accurate. “To catch me mid-rape?” Ludger flinches, and Rideaux arches himself into an upright position with no apparent regard for the situation he’s just been rescued from or the mess he’s probably leaving on the table. “You really are vile, Julius. Your poor brother. He really doesn’t deserve you.”
“Shut up,” Julius snaps at him; Rideaux’s response is nothing but smiling sweetness.
Ludger’s hands are still shaking. It seems to pull Julius’s attention away from Rideaux’s obvious goading, and he carefully reaches over to carefully pry Ludger’s fingers loose from the wooden handle of the skillet he’s still holding. Ludger should let him, but he does. Even after the awful thing he’s just walked in on, he can’t help but want to trust Julius. “It isn’t what it looked like,” Julius tells him, his tone soft and even. “He’s fine with this. Don’t listen to him. This is just... something we do sometimes.”
Julius looks sick just trying to put it into words. Rideaux has no such qualms. “That’s right, Ludger. Don’t listen to what I think about any of this. I’m sure I loved getting violated on your dining table. Who wouldn’t want to get fucked by Julius in the crumbs of last night’s dinner?”
Ludger... doesn’t think too hard about that question. Instead he frowns. He’s... he’s frustrated by his own uncertainty. Everything he’s ever learned, everything he’s ever been taught, is telling him that he has just interrupted a sexual assault. That he has to listen to the victim, contact the authorities, have the assailant arrested and brought to justice.
But the assailant is his brother, who he trusts more than anyone in the world. And the victim is... ugh. Rideaux. There has to be more to this than what he’s already seen. “I don’t know what you’re saying. You and him, you... do this...?”
A vague wave of one hand doesn’t seem enough to capture the entire debauched scene in front of him.
Ludger wasn’t even supposed to be home yet. He’s finished work early today, a rare treat, and he’d been excited to get back to the apartment and cook up something special to welcome Julius home. It was supposed to be a surprise for his precious brother.
And, well... he supposes he did still manage to surprise Julius.
The last thing he’d expected when he turned the key in the lock was to hear raised voices coming from inside. To hear the harsh sounds of flesh connecting roughly against flesh, and the unmistakable cloying slap of wetness and motion. It has all happened so quickly after that, but he stills sees it so clearly in his mind’s eye—Rideaux, flat on his back across the dining table, with one of Julius’s arms wedged hard across his sternum. Rideaux’s lower half, completely bare, with his clothing pooled in a heap on the floor beside him. And Julius, still dressed but with his belt unbuckled and his cock pulled loose. With his cock buried inside Rideaux, purposeful and deliberate and utterly heedless of the way Rideaux was trying to resist.
Ludger thinks he’s going to be sick.
He can’t believe this. He can’t believe Julius would do something like this. He can’t believe Rideaux is in their apartment. He can’t believe he just hit Julius with the nearest object he could grab, and he can’t believe it was his one-of-a-kind hand-crafted Rieze Maxian skillet. Now it has a dent in it. With everything else that’s happening, that somehow manages to feel like the worst thing of all.
Still seated, his bare legs hanging over the edge of the table, Rideaux gives a breezily angular shrug. “It’s not always like this. Sometimes he’s the one getting fucked. He loves it, you know. Quite the dirty bastard, your brother.”
“Rideaux,” Julius mutters, and makes it abundantly clear that it’s meant to be a threat. Rideaux shrugs again, and offers another smile, but doesn’t add anything further.
Ludger still doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to think. He feels betrayed. He feels conflicted. He feels that way because he feels that way, betrayed by his own sense of betrayal and conflicted over his own conflicted feelings. His face is hot. He afraid he’s going to start crying and he’ll have no idea how to explain why. Julius, watching him, looks something between frustrated and devastated.
Julius’s cock, still exposed, is gleaming wet. It hasn’t gone soft. Ludger doesn’t want to think about what that says about any of this.
At last, Julius tries again to explain. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.” Thanks, Rideaux cuts in dryly, but Julius ignores him. “It’s... a relief, Ludger. The work we do, it’s complicated. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always kind. I need an outlet sometimes.”
Utterly unashamed of Rideaux’s inevitable mockery, Ludger shakes his head in protest. “But I’m here for you. I want to help. Is coming home to me not enough...?”
Sure enough, Rideaux scoffs, but Julius doesn’t give him a chance to interrupt them any further. Instead he finally places the dented skillet aside and takes hold of Ludger’s shoulders between his hands. Ludger can’t help the way it immediately makes him feel safer. More confident, more assured. Protected. This is Julius. He’ll always trust Julius over anyone else.
“I know you’re here, and I know you’d do anything for me. That’s why I need this, Ludger. Because there are things I couldn’t stand to take out on you. You’re don’t deserve any of it. You’re the one I want to protect more than anything else.”
That’s a bridge too far for Rideaux to hold his tongue. “Really, Julius? You do know how to make a man feel loved.”
But Ludger doesn’t care about Rideaux’s hurt feelings. Julius is holding him, now. Julius is explaining, and Ludger only wants to agree. “I’m sorry,” He says, and manages a trembling smile as he raises a hand to ghost gently across Julius’s forehead. A lump is already forming. The bruise is going to be immaculate. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“Of course you should have,” Julius replies, and smiles warmly. “You were trying to protect him. I’m proud of you, Ludger. You saw an enemy being mistreated by a friend and you still did the right thing. You’re so good. You’re too good for someone like me.”
“You can say that again,” Rideaux mutters. “An enemy. Honestly.”
Ludger’s heart isn’t thundering quite so harshly any more. He thinks the tremulous feeling has finally begun to subside. But his blood is still beating firmly in his ears, and when he glances at Rideaux’s bare ass seated on the same table where he’s served so many meals for himself and Julius... quietly, Ludger shakes his head. He’s still not sure he understands. “Do you always fight each other?”
For once, Julius seems happy enough to let Rideaux field the question. “Not always,” Rideaux replies, and he finally looks as though he’s willing to give an honest answer instead of the most inflammatory one. “Sometimes he begs for it. Sometimes I let him do whatever he wants to me.” Sometimes you beg, Julius interjects; Rideaux artfully ignores him. “But the fighting is all part of the fun. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re a little older. We grown-ups call it foreplay.”
Ludger knows exactly what foreplay is. Ludger also knows that Rideaux is fucking deranged. Mutely, he looks to Julius for clarification; Julius’s smile is both exhausted and relieved. “It helps, Ludger. I wish it didn’t. I wish I could be as good as you deserve. But it helps. Using force, taking instead of asking...” Julius shakes his head, and then lifts a hand to stroke Ludger’s cheek. Ludger leans into the touch without question. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I should never have brought him here.”
“Disgusting enemy that I am,” Rideaux agrees mildly.
What else is there to say? Ludger shakes his head in turn, and lifts one hand to cover Julius’s own. This is the brother he knows and loves. If he’s witnessed some new part of Julius today, well... he can learn to love that part as well. “It’s okay,” Ludger tells him, and turns his face to press a short kiss against Julius’s palm. “You are good, Julius. You’re so good.”
Beside them, Rideaux gags and rolls his eyes, and Julius—all at once, Julius turns and raises his other hand. Ludger has just enough time to tense, heart leaping back into his throat, before Julius backhands Rideaux. Backhands him and shoves him hard, sprawling him back against the table in one harsh fall of motion. The noise that breaks from Rideaux’s throat sounds as shocked as Ludger feels. Rideaux wasn’t expecting it. Ludger wasn’t either.
Julius’s expression is dark. He never once stops stroking Ludger’s cheek.
“No one wants your opinion.” Julius isn’t done; his hand moves again, shifting down to wrap around Rideaux’s balls. Ludger gulps; Rideaux begins to protest, and then chokes as Julius begins to squeeze. “Do I need to finish teaching you a lesson?”
Yes please, Ludger’s mind supplies immediately, and he slaps a hand across his mouth before the thought can dare to escape him. Surely he doesn’t feel that way! And he isn’t supposed to be part of this. Julius doesn’t want him to be part of this. Stress relief, Julius called it. Something he does so that he can keep Ludger clean and safe and unharmed.
But it’s different now. Ludger’s already seen so much. How can he pretend he doesn’t know? How can he pretend he’ll never be part of this when Julius is holding him tenderly in one hand and tormenting Rideaux with the other?
Flat on his back, lips drawn in a visible snarl, Rideaux finds his voice. “With him here? You wouldn’t. Coward.”
And all at once, Ludger gets it. Behind the venom and the disdain he hears something else. The goading. The encouragement. The challenge. With him here? Would you? Really?
It’s an invitation. Rideaux wants Julius to do this.
And Ludger... Ludger loves Julius so much. All he wants—all he’s ever wanted—is to be part of his brother’s world.
It means shifting away from Julius’s touch. It’s devastating, especially when Ludger can see the flicker of concern that flashes through Julius’s otherwise hardened expression. It makes Ludger want to fall back into Julius’s arms and reassure him that this isn’t rejection. He’s not disgusted by you. He’s here with you. He’s not leaving. He’s not going away.
Walking around the dining table takes him beyond Rideaux’s view, and Rideaux quickly stops trying to strain around and see where he’s going. Rideaux must assume that Ludger’s decided to leave, opting to hide in his bedroom rather than witness any more of this madness. That’s perfect for Ludger intends to do; he opens and then closes the bedroom door, but does not step through. When it clicks shut, Rideaux laughs derisively. He doesn’t know that Ludger’s still standing behind him.
Julius does. Ludger meets his brother’s gaze, and waits for the moment that understanding dawns.
“And how that must sting, Julius,” Rideaux croons and cranes his neck up toward Julius, always vicious but rarely this oblivious. “What a pity. You may have to find a new boy to keep around the house. That one’s going to hate you.”
It must confuse him that Julius doesn’t react. Ludger can’t see Rideaux’s expression any more but he sees the way Rideaux’s held tilts, in just the same way Rollo’s might do when outwitted by one of his toys. Ludger doesn’t consider himself a vengeful person, but Rideaux has never been anything but difficult whenever they’ve crossed paths with one another. It’s going to be nice to be the one with the upper hand, isn’t it; he can’t pretend the feeling isn’t there.
But he’s here for Julius, and no one else. Ludger holds Julius’s gaze for one more second, making sure that this is what his brother wants. And Julius looks astonished, yes, but he looks hungry as well. Hungrier than he has in years. Ludger’s stomach turns upon itself, hot and eager, rearing to responsive attention. For Julius—anything.
He lunges, seizing hold of Rideaux’s shoulders and flattening him hard against the table. Rideaux all but squawks in startled response, but he’s too slow to react and too late to resist; by the time he starts trying to pull himself free Ludger’s already gotten hold of his wrists and angled his arms away from his core. From there it’s simple to pin them over Rideaux’s head, crossed and captured beneath the force of Ludger’s weight, and Ludger doesn’t even look at Rideaux’s face as he does it. This is for Julius, not for you. It’s his brother who holds his full attention.
“I want to see,” Ludger hears himself say, and feels a shock of electric heat ripple through him as Rideaux’s aghast struggling intensifies. “He needs to learn his lesson, Julius.”
... Right? Ludger tries to hold his nerve, but he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s never done anything like this before. Was that the right thing to say? Is this... Is this making Julius hot? He knows he shouldn’t question, because that must be ruining the fantasy, but he can’t help it. Ludger lets that shred of doubt creep into his voice as he asks, “Like that?”
Beneath his grasp, Rideaux groans. Ludger can practically hear the way Rideaux must be rolling his eyes. It’s enough to have him flush, scarlet uncertainty rising to his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from Julius. For Julius, remember? He doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. He only needs to see what Julius has to say.
And Julius’s smile is as indulgent as it has ever been. “Just like that,” He affirms, and Ludger feels the reassurance of that praise spike straight to his groin. “What a good brother I have.”
Rideaux groans again. This time, it doesn’t sound entirely discontent.
It does interrupt Julius’s focus. Or else this is a game that Julius has decided to play, and now he’s invited Ludger to play it along with him. Julius reaches forward to seize hold of Rideaux’s jaw, squeezing hard enough to smush Rideaux’s cheeks together. The effect manages to be comical despite the cruelty; Rideaux glowers, furious within his own powerless state, but he doesn’t try to speak. Apparently, that’s what Julius was looking for. “Good. Stay that way. We’ve heard enough from you today.”
But Julius doesn’t release Rideaux right away. Instead he moves his other hand, the one just beyond Ludger’s view, and resettles it somewhere between the edge of the table and the trapped curve of Rideaux’s ass. Ludger doesn’t need to be able to see to understand at least some of what must be happening between them—Julius shifts slightly, changes the angle of his forearm, and Rideaux’s hips lift responsively toward what it is that Julius’s has begun doing to him. Ludger keeps his grip on Rideaux’s wrists firm, but he can’t look anywhere else.
It surprises him when he realises that he isn’t jealous. The thought of being in Rideaux’s position right now, being the one fixed within Julius’s attention, is... it’s good. Of course it’s good, and of course it’s something he wants. But this thing he’s walked in on, this thing that Julius has invited him in to, is... it’s another part of who Julius is. It’s a said he’s never seen before, bright and brilliant and new, and that sensation is more intoxicating than anything else would be. There’s nothing Ludger wants more than this—the chance to see every single side of the person Julius is.
On the table, Rideaux’s beginning to squirm. His face is still clutched tight in Julius’s grip, and his breathing is growing wetter, faster, less even. Ludger still doesn’t look, not even when Rideaux renews his struggling effort to break free. Is Rideaux trying to get his attention? Ludger smiles serenely in Julius direction, and finds himself rewarded by another sharp tug of resistance and a snarl that shifts to a hitching moan.
He’s really starting to see the appeal in this.
“No words,” Julius orders, and waits until Rideaux manages a pitifully restricted nod of acquiescence. Then he moves his hand away, releasing Rideaux’s jaw, and Rideaux’s breathing immediately shifts louder and rougher but he doesn’t say anything. It seems to Ludger like Julius should reward him for that good behaviour. Instead Julius thumbs Rideaux’s lower lip but looks directly at Ludger. Julius’s familiar smile, even now—warm, and soft, and so full of care. Ludger feels as if he could cry beneath that tenderness. Ludger’s cock is growing harder with each struggling tug of Rideaux coupled against the look in Julius’s eyes.
“I really did mean to spare you from this,” Julius says, completely at odds with everything splayed across the table between them. Ludger shakes his head, and Julius’s laughter is low and dry as he shifts his grip to take a firm handful of Rideaux’s thigh and force Rideaux’s legs higher. Rideaux growls, but doesn’t speak. Does jerk roughly away from the hand that’s otherwise been busy between his legs.
Unforgiving, Julius swats Rideaux’s dick the way Rollo might swat at a bug. Rideaux’s entire body jolts in response, and the sound he makes is unmistakable for anything other than arousal. Ludger’s staring again. How can he help it? Rideaux’s cock stands rigid and flat against his own stomach; when Julius begins massaging the underside of Rideaux’s shaft, the tip grows shiny and slicks. “Are you going to let my little brother see you beg?” Julius asks mildly, and when Rideaux’s head jerks up in the beginning of retaliation Julius presses his thumb into the head of Rideaux’s dick and squeezes.
Rideaux crumbles. He moans openly. He snarls, too late, too overwhelmed to disguise what came before. Julius returns to stroking the length of Rideaux’s exposed cock, and adds, “Stop pretending you don’t want this.”
“This?” Rideaux spits back at him, and then jerks his head toward Ludger. “I never agreed to this.” And then he twists, the angular jut of his hips grinding harshly against the surface of the table, and Ludger hears the hiss of Rideaux’s inhalation. It’s enough to reawaken all of his doubts, to have him looking for guidance. It’s true, isn’t it. Whatever Rideaux and Julius have between them, Ludger isn’t something they agreed on. It’s different with another person involved. He’s ruining this, he’s changed the balance, and now—
Julius slams one hand across Rideaux’s pelvis, hard enough to snap him back down flat against the table. Rideaux barks out an angry curse; Ludger can already imagine the bruise that will form across the place where Julius struck. Then his view is obscured as Julius seizes hold of that same reddening spot and grips tight around the meat and bone of Rideaux’s thin body, holding him starkly in place. Rideaux’s neck strains up, his jaw clenched tight enough that Ludger can see the way it trembles.
“I don’t remember asking.” Julius’s expression is a mask, almost beyond expression. Only the harsh crease between his brow betrays anything of effort or tension. Ludger feels the answering resistance in Rideaux’s captured wrists; he doesn’t think about what it means that he redoubles his own efforts in response. They’re a chain of reaction, bound together like volatile chemicals. Even as Ludger’s doubts fill his throat he continues to comply.
This is wrong. It has to be. But he doesn’t let go. He’s afraid of what will happen if he does. He’s afraid of what’s happening. He’s afraid that he’s become part of this. He’s afraid of letting Julius down.
And Julius understands. Ludger doesn’t say anything, but somehow, his brother always understands him. Julius catches his eye, and all at once the mask is gone. It’s just Julius again, and the warmth in his eyes holds a smoulder that Ludger isn’t used to seeing when another person is present. But it’s him—it’s so recognisably his dear older brother who he knows and loves and trusts. “Are you okay?” Julius asks him, and he’s lowered his voice. The softness in that reassuring tone is exactly what Ludger needs to hear.
“I’m okay,” He answers without question, even though he knows there’s so much uncertainty within him. Julius can tell. Julius can always tell. That must be why he keeps gazing, keeps waiting; his fingers flex a silent warning upon the only person who might dare to interrupt this concern. Ludger sees it happen without really seeing, his attention devoted to none but his brother. “I’m okay if you are,” Ludger tries. So quickly he’s gone from seeking reassurance to trying to offer it himself; Julius smiles at him, and Ludger feels a rich swell of pride settle in his chest.
“I wouldn’t let you do this if I didn’t think you could handle it,” Julius tells him, and Ludger wants Julius to say it again. Ludger wants Julius to kneel over him and say it. Ludger wants—
“You fucking brocons are making me sick!” Rideaux snaps, and then something wet hits Ludger’s cheek. Instinctively he goes to wipe it away—did Rideaux spit, did, did Rideaux just spit at him?—and the moment he lessens his grip is the moment Rideaux breaks free. It’s faster than Ludger knows how to handle, and he’s distracted by the disgusting sensation of warmth trickling down his face, and by the time he realises his mistake it’s already too late. Rideaux sits fully upright on the table, and his hands are flying for Julius’s throat. Julius is already retaliating. There’s nothing playful about it. Their violence is real. Whatever else is happening between them, the way they’re trying to hurt one another leaves Ludger without a single shred of doubt.
Unhesitating, he wraps his fist into Rideaux’s long hair and yanks.
Rideaux doesn’t crash back to the table. He’s too fast for that. But he’s only able to save himself by throwing his arms out to catch his own weight, and that frees Julius from his attack. And Ludger isn’t done. He twists, hard, and yanks again; Rideaux’s wrist turns beneath him, and this time he goes down. It leaves him turned awkwardly at the waist, and Julius doesn’t hesitate to grab one of Rideaux’s bare legs and hoist it high and over his shoulder—Rideaux yelps at the abruptness, the sudden shift and spread, and then he chokes upon his protestations as Julius penetrates him.
Julius penetrates him.
One of Rideaux’s arms is pinned beneath his own body. The other has been flung outwards, a helpless attempt to save himself from falling, and now it grips around the edge of the table and braces him against the new momentum of Julius fucking into him. Julius isn’t slow or gentle; it’s as hard and fierce as the scene Ludger first walked in on when he returned to the apartment, and his hand is still coiled in Rideaux’s hair but the rest of him feels lost and weightless in a way that’s at once terrifying and intoxicating. He’s divorced from this. He’s inescapably a part of this. This is an assault, a rape, an agreement, a thing he doesn’t understand, and he’s nothing but an accessory but his hands are keeping Rideaux in place and Rideaux is biting back raw little sounds that align with each harsh jut of Julius’s hips.
And Julius is unrelenting. One arm wraps bracingly around Rideaux’s elevated leg, the other supports his weight against the table and gives him full range to continue thrusting. His expression fills Ludger’s eyes. The way Julius is moving, the lack of care for anyone’s comfort but his own, the cruelness of a hunger that demands to be satisfied. Ludger’s enthralled. He’s enchanted. He doesn’t want his brother’s anger, but his brother’s hunger is something else entirely. Is there anything Ludger has ever wanted more than to feed Julius’s appetite? He wants to cook for you, Julius. He wants to serve you, Julius. He wants to be consumed by you, Julius.
But right now it’s not about him. It’s not even about Rideaux. Julius takes what he wants, and Ludger provides by tightening his grip and angling Rideaux’s neck back to open Rideaux’s gullet. Rideaux grits his teeth as tight as he can, like he knows what Ludger is trying to do, but then Julius thrusts again and Rideaux can’t keep from breaking into an open gasp. It’s harder for him to hold it back when he’s angled like this.
Is this what you like, Julius? Ludger thinks it is. Ludger prays it is.
It’s like Rideaux can read his thoughts. Even captured and abused, Rideaux manages to twist his expression into a haughty sneer as he looks up at them. First at Ludger, with a hatred in his eyes that feels frighteningly real. Then at Julius, and the hatred simmers down to something more disdainful. More judgmental. “I always knew you were a freak, Julius—” Julius tightens his gloved grip on Rideaux’s elevated thigh; Rideaux bucks and loses himself for a second, a keening whine that’s completely at odds with the rest of his smug demeanour, but then he pulls himself back enough to keep talking. “—But I never imagined something like this. Do you wish it was him? Do you want to fuck him while be begs you to stop?”
Ludger expects a reaction. Julius’s expression will darken, won’t it? Or Julius will deny it. Julius will embrace it, even, say that’s exactly what he wants and set Ludger’s heart ablaze. Julius will tell Rideaux that he’s disgusting. Julius will react. Surely Julius will react.
But he doesn’t. Julius only continues, expression set and purpose fixed. It would be cold it it weren’t for the ferocity undercutting each rough thrust. Rideaux waits a second longer, and Ludger feels a shred of comfort that he’s not the only one surprised at Julius’s poise. But then Rideaux wriggles, unpinning the arm that was caught beneath his body, and reaches up to touch Ludger’s jaw. Despite himself, Ludger recoils. Doesn’t release his grip on Rideaux’s hair but pulls back from the unwelcome attention. That makes Rideaux smile with all his gleaming teeth. “What about you, baby brother?” Would you like it if he forced you? Would you remember how to play the game? Please, Julius. Don’t.” Rideaux’s laughter, even hitched and distracted, is still utterly vicious. It cuts through the physicality, cuts through everything else that’s happening, and leaves Ludger speechless. “You wouldn’t last five seconds. You’re gagging for it.”
“Ludger.”
Julius, the ever-grounding presence, the sanctuary he always returns to. Ludger snaps back to the moment, leaving Rideaux behind. There’s only one person here who needs to command his attention. His body burns alive with the mere suggestion of it, the idea of giving Julius his absolute obedience, his willingness, his everything. He doesn’t need to be the one getting filled by Julius’s cock. This is so much better. Being what his brother needs him to be is so much better.
The coldness of Julius’s expression hasn’t shifted as fully as Ludger expected, but the way Julius’s eyes land on him is every bit the warm and familiar brother Ludger needs. Despite himself, he leans forward. Julius smiles; Ludger quivers. “Noisy, isn’t he. He’s always needed something to keep his mouth busy.” Beneath them, abrupt and utterly unguarded. Rideaux shudders into a low groan. Ludger doesn’t need to feel it himself to know that Julius is the cause.
And no, he can’t help the way his own voice whimpers out its own reedy response. Hearing what Julius can do to someone else is almost like Julius doing it to him. Julius raises an eyebrow, and Ludger feels the scarlet shyness steal over him. Too late to hide it, though, and Julius doesn’t mock him. His brother is always so kind. “Shut him up, Ludger.”
It’s sweetly given, but Ludger recognises a command when he hears one. Rideaux recognises it too, and uses his free hand to make a wild swipe toward Ludger’s unguarded face. Too slow this time—Ludger avoids the clumsy effort and takes his chance to seize hold of Rideaux’s skinny wrist.
Shut him up, Ludger. Rideaux’s been making too much noise. Taunting too much, acting out. Julius is tired of it. Ludger scowls down at Rideaux; Rideaux scowls back. Still defiant, still challenging. Shut him up, Ludger, and that’s exactly what Ludger intends to do.
With one hand still in Rideaux’s hair and the other holding his wrist, he doesn’t have many options. Rideaux startles when Ludger leans down and brings Rideaux’s gloved hand to his own mouth; Rideaux resists, but with an air of plain confusion, when Ludger takes the tip of one gloved finger and gathers a pinch of fabric between his teeth. Faux-leather, as fake as the rest of Rideaux.
Ludger pulls, and the glove slips loose. Rideaux, still getting fucked, still resisting, manages a look that’s utterly perplexed. It’s almost endearing, Ludger thinks, as he finally removes his grip from Rideaux’s long hair and gathers the glove into his fist. Balls it up tight, and smiles down at Rideaux’s bafflement.
A moment too late, Rideaux realises what Ludger intends to do. “Wait—!” He manages, jerking his head as far back as his limited position allows, but there’s nowhere for him to go and the weak protest is exactly the opening Ludger needs to shove that leathery ball right into Rideaux’s mouth. Immediately, Rideaux gags. Ludger almost reconsiders... but then shoves his fingers inside Rideaux’s full wet mouth and adjusts, positioning the glove tight against the back of Rideaux’s teeth. Rideaux tries to bite him, but it’s impossible now, and Ludger takes his time about making this right. Making sure Rideaux isn’t actually going to choke or hurt himself. Then he pulls his hand back far enough that he can see the saliva coating his fingertips.
Sweetly—slowly—he wipes his hand dry across the thrashing resistance of Rideaux’s freshly-stuffed cheeks.
Julius has paused. In fact, his cock isn’t even inside Rideaux any more. Ludger looks, first at his brother’s shaft and then at his brother’s face. Julius looks... for a second, he looks almost as bemused as Rideaux did, and Ludger feels a momentary stab of concern. Has he done something he shouldn’t have? Did Julius... not like that? But then Julius laughs, dark and low and full of heat, and Ludger breathes again. “What a wonderful little brother I have,” Julius says, so like where they started this together, and Ludger sees the stars that shine in Julius’s eyes. Barely even hears the helpless muffle of Rideaux’s answering moan.
What more is there to do now but to take what they have won? Julius tilts his head, a silent directive, and Ludger understand what’s being asked of him. Together, it’s easy for them to take hold of Rideaux and turn him fully over, laying him flat upon his stomach with no regard at all for what it does to Rideaux’s own rigid cock. He protests, of course. He sounds so much nicer like this. It makes Ludger want to soothe him, to pet his hair—Rideaux tries to shake him off, plainly furious, but that only prompts Ludger to do it again. It makes him think of the times he and Julius have had to take Rollo to visit the vet.
Sometimes, animals don’t know what’s good for them.
Ludger pins Rideaux’s arms above his head, just as he was doing when they began except that this time Rideaux’s chin is grinding helpless resistance into the tabletop as he continues to thrash about. His legs are hanging over the far side of the table, and Julius takes his time about pulling and adjusting them, position Rideaux just so and slapping Rideaux’s ass when he tries to shift himself away. Rideaux bucks into the solid surface, Rideaux chokes on his own aroused torment, and Ludger simply pets him again while Julius realigns himself to Rideaux’s slick hole. This will be the third time Julius has entered him. It already gapes, twitching and ready. There will be no fourth attempt. When Julius pushes himself inside and begins to fuck Rideaux, they all know that this is where it will end.
Rideaux never stops trying to pull away, but Ludger feels the changes that envelope him. The moment where resistance turns into nothing but a desire to curl small and tight and eager. Perhaps Rideaux yearns to touch himself. Perhaps Rideaux wants to be ungagged and let himself be heard. It doesn’t matter. Ludger never relents, and by the time Rideaux is drooling around his own leather glove and groaning in helpless abandonment Ludger almost feels ready to join him.
And Ludger knows that this isn’t about him. He isn’t going to come today. But this has been... this has been... oh, Julius. This has been like nothing else Ludger’s ever felt. He’s here with you, brother. He loves you, brother. He’s watching. He’s watching. He swears he feels it all.
Unceasing, Julius finally leans his full weight into what he’s doing. He takes hold of Rideaux’s captured hips and drives himself in, as quick and deep as he can. Each rough slap must be torture for Rideaux’s hips, crushed without mercy against the angled edge of the tabletop, but that’s just another part of the game. It makes Rideaux responsive. It makes Ludger soothe him, again and again, even as he keeps Rideaux firmly in place. Julius is taking what he wants, just as he said he would. Using force. Taking instead of asking. It helps.
Yes. It helps, he’d said. And now, Ludger’s helping him. Ludger’s helping, Julius. When Julius presses himself across Rideaux’s back and finishes, grinding tight into Rideaux’s ass and pressing his forehead into Rideaux’s crumpled sweat-stained shirt, Ludger does not come but he’s still right there with him. He’s with you, Julius. He’s always going to be with you. He’s always going to love you.
Even when there’s a third person choking in the space between.
Ludger doesn’t let go first. He’s not sure exactly what’s going to happen when he does. And it turns out that his hesitation is for the best, because Julius pulls back and then angles all the fingers of one hand deep into Rideaux’s spread ass and hoists. Ludger can’t help the way he winces. Even with all else they’ve done together, that looks harsh. And Rideaux, kicking and reactive, sounds like he’s somewhere between a scream and a curse as he struggles to meet what Julius wants from him, pushing his hips as high as he can until he’s finally able to get one knee beneath himself upon the tabletop.
Access granted, Julius reaches between Rideaux’s legs with his other hand and strokes Rideaux’s cock. Ludger can’t see, but he doesn’t need to. It barely takes a moment before Rideaux spills. Even through the glove, the whine of his relief is palpable.
And that, then, is how it ends.
Once Julius waves that it’s okay to do so, Ludger carefully pulls the glove from Rideaux’s mouth. Immediately, Rideaux rears up and spits at him. “You were supposed to choke me with your fucking dick, you useless idiot!”
Oh, Ludger thinks, and then, louder even within his own mind, oh.
There’s a fondness in Julius’s expression that tells Ludger everything he needs to know. Rideaux’s correct. When Julius told him to shut Rideaux up, it was an invitation, wasn’t it. He was supposed to do that, wasn’t he.
“Ah,” Ludger manages. It isn’t exactly an apology. Rideaux, utterly overturned, dishevelled, and spent, still glowers as if he rules the room. Ludger spreads his hands helplessly, and says the only thing he can. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”