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Title: LJ Drabble for dellamore Author: Anon Pairing: NB/KD Rating: NC-17 for incest "This what you thought you could get away from?" Kelly feels the growl in his voice in his own gut; god only knows what it's doing to Nick. Just the thought is enough to push him so close to coming that he's got to stop, dig his toes into the carpet and count his breaths. Of course, Nick's sweating and shaking underneath the hands Kelly's got clawed into his hips, so it's not like Kelly *really* has to guess just what kind of havoc his not-just-for-show possessive act is wreaking on him. "K-Kel. Please." Every single letter, just about, is punctuated with that low, breathy rasp Nick sports when he's half a second away from blowing his mind right out his dick. "Please, what? Stop? You want me to stop?" He's a stubborn, pissy fuck and he knows it, but he pulls out and far enough away that they're not sharing body heat anymore. Teach Nicky to say he just wants to be 'normal'; they've been fucking since they were fifteen. This *is* normal, for them anyway, and it's really way the fuck past time Nick admitted it. "Kelly." Not far under a whine, that. Under normal circumstances he'd be gloating already, snapping his fingers and pointing out the 'gotcha'. But it's not enough, not now. Not after that conversation Kelly had to sit through earlier. Sit through and listen to, all the time feeling like Nicky was pulling his guts out through his nose. No fucking way. Somebody's going to pay, and it's not going to be him. Not anymore. "What?" Low, quiet, careful. Let Nick make of it what he will; Kelly knows he sounds pissed, horny, vengeful. None of the above, all of the above, magic 8-ball says bingo. "Please." Drawn-out, higher, the anxious slickness of Nicky's skin making Kelly's hands slide. "Tell me." He wants so bad, wants *Nicky* so bad his dick's screaming at him. Begging just as prettily and desperately as Nick's starting to, but no. He deserves this. He can wait. Nick's head drops forward between his shoulders; Kelly just keeps himself from leaning forward and licking the damp, pale tremor of his spine. A small, broken sound finds it way out of his brother. Kelly can taste it in the back of his throat, the pit of his stomach. Feel it in his hands, and suddenly, he's forgotten any kind of thing resembling a point he thought he may have had. He settles his fingers deep in the grooves he's wearing over Nick's hipbones and slams his way home. Hurts, just a little, just a lot, just good enough to choke him slightly, the way Nicky twitches and jerks forward on the end of his cock. Kelly lets go of it then. Folds Nicky in half right over the back of the couch and pounds the fuck out of him. Into him, all his love and need and want and pain, everything that's kept them apart over the last seven years, everything that's kept them at a respectable distance, safe, clean no-touching zone, never mind the kissing and sucking and screwing each others' brains out against or on any surface that would reasonably hold their weight, and some that wouldn't. Didn't. He's scraping bruises along Nicky's waist by the handful, but it's that or fly apart, each bend and roll and twist of Nick's hips and shoulders beneath him doing their best to string the sanity right out of him for good. Nick pulls away, and Kelly almost falls apart at the sudden impact of thin air against his body, but before the protest leaves his brain, Nick's rolling over the back of the sofa, dragging Kelly with him. He's wrapping his legs around Kelly before Kelly's even supporting his own weight; his dick finds its way back inside Nick where it belongs, where he belongs, where he's never wanted not to be, and he's glad he's not the type to let the cracking of the ice in his chest show. Nick knows, though, always has, always will, which is only partly why the almost-brushoff earlier hurt so fucking bad, knowing Nicky knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what he was killing with each carefully-not-looking-at-Kelly word. But somehow, it doesn't matter. Not now, with Nick pushing his own thrusts back at him, apology and remorse and I love you skidding over his skin, pouring into him and then back out of him, the circle of them. Just how it should be. Jesus fuck, but they're going to be sore tomorrow. Neither one of them the kids they were when all this started, and both way too big for this not-big-enough couch, at least like this, Nick's knees pushed up on either side of his own head, his ankles kissing Kelly's ears. Kelly feels the pieces of him start to fall away, flaking off one by one as his hearing flips over to white noise and his vision blurs, but he can still see Nick's face, tight and flushed and wanting beneath him, can still feel Nick's mouth stroking promises along his jaw, across his lips. Nick's tongue is hot and wet and heavy against his, smooth as the best whisky he's got in the cupboard, firing all his nerves like the tequila he drinks by the tumblerful when he's been away from this too long. All of Kelly is shredded, frayed, worked to the sharpest, off-kilter twang that can still be heard by human beings, and as Nicky spins out and crashes beneath him, the last strand snaps and he falls, right into the warm, salty haven of Nicky's skin. -End