Disorder Ch 04

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

****

Disorder, Ch. 04

Brotherly Relations

"I can't believe dear little Charles fell for that!"

John's cackle echoed through the abandoned warehouse, the long-haired man strutting through and pretty much 'peacocking' with his chest thrust out obscenely, acting quite as if he was trying to impress someone. Of course, he was arrogant to a fault and he only acted the way he did because he was completely and utterly inundated in the belief that he was the most important person in the room at any given time, regardless of who or what else may be there. He was impressive and he did very much indeed deserve to have all eyes on him, which was sometimes a problem for someone walking on the wrong side of the law. Regardless of everything, he wanted to be seen even when he, really, should have been aiming for a little stealth.

His younger brother (the middle brother of the three), Donnie, plodded along behind him, although it was not much of a plod with his long legs and his slender frame appearing oddly elegant even in a shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The slim-fit jeans were not chosen for any sense of style but he did hold a sort of 'techie' air about him, which was quite apt considering where his criminal activity was the most prominent. He frequently proclaimed, when he did talk, that was, that there were so many people in the world with more money than they knew what to do with that he was simply doing them a favour by taking a little of it off their hands. After all, he knew just what to spend it on when they, surely, did not.

All three brothers were of the same mind and manner, not really ones to talk about their early years but turning to a life of crime due to a sense of self-centredness and laziness that was passed down to them swiftly and surely. Why work hard when crime offered an easier alternative - an even more exciting alternative sometimes too? Sure, one could go skydiving or something for an adrenaline high but Charles' joy rides came free of charge and he did occasionally leave the nicer wheels he found for John to find later, stumbling across them with the tank empty and rubber burned but still usable, if he so had the energy or presence of mind to take them for himself.

It was a game of sorts between them to see just how far they could push their illicit activities, the oldest and youngest taunting one another with daring acts that could, just about, skirt the public eye. But they had to, in their own way, find something to entertain themselves with - at least, when the criminal underworld wasn't causing them bother and trouble that they had to actually get up and address for themselves. And that was exactly what had happened to John at that time, although he would have, of course, professed with great personal affront that he had done absolutely nothing wrong at all and was being very wrongfully targeted.

The warehouse was stifled with a dry, musty odour as if someone did come through from time to time but did not do all that much to keep all in check, the wooden boards dirtied and stained between the concrete blocks and pillars that gave the building some semblance of a framework. Cars lined it and nothing else bar a few wooden crates that may or may not have been used for something criminal at some point: they could simply have contained parts. The cars were not part of John's personal collection (not rare enough for his tastes) but there were some flashy models that would turn heads on the street, something that he was very much in keeping with the idea of. But they did not belong to him and his friend of sorts who allowed him to, occasionally, use the warehouse (for a criminal favour or two or three, of course) turned a blind eye if he took one out for a spin from time to time. Sometimes those in the hold of tentative power had to pick and choose what battles to fight, playing with favour and spending it as one would do with the literal form of money. Currency, however, had an always fluctuating bias.

Donnie skirted a shaft of sunlight, eyeing it as if he was suspicious that it held something he would not want to involve himself with, although he was someone who could have done with just a little more sun on his skin, if all was put in the light - so to speak.

"I can't believe you got yourself caught up in this," Donnie muttered, his lips seeming to shudder but not managing to force away his scowl. "It's just like you... You don't think anything through, do you? And then you come on down here expecting me and everyone else to dig you out of your usual mess just like always, typical..."

Spinning as if personally offended (John most likely, however, was not capable of that particular emotion), John raised both eyebrows, Donnie stopping dead in his tracks to avoid walking into him. The curse that burst from Donnie's lips, however muttered, was more in keeping with his general attitude though.

"Come on, Small Donnie," John crooned, taking his hand in his typically dramatic fashion and holding it to his chest as if he was about to proclaim something more seriously poignant than familial love. "You have to do this for me, you simply have to. Why, I don't know where I would be without every single last bit of your assistance!"

The emphasis he constantly put on his words grated on Donnie's nerves - and he damn well knew it too, which was exactly why John did it to begin with. A master of causing trouble and frustration, he laughed and made a face when Donnie snatched his hand away, lips twisting into a frown. But John did not yet have the upper hand and, well, he'd made it quite clear that it was some of Donnie's tech and brainpower that he wanted on this particular job, tilting the control, strangely, back in the direction of the younger of the two brothers. And he would have found himself very much amiss to not at least attempt to take advantage of that, just a little, while the ball rested in his court, however temporarily.

"And why, pray tell, must I do this?" Donnie shrugged, eyebrows raising. "You haven't given me any reason you can stand by yet, John, and I'm bored of this now. It was entertaining to send Charles off on the grunt work, the ridiculous side that would have been a complete waste of time for you or for me, but what's in this for me?"

"Why... My dear, dear Donnie..."

And then John grinned, the flashing white of his smile in a face that was, perhaps, still a little too pale and in need of just a touch of sunshine, spreading his hands out genially although there was no sense of giving in his posture and frame at all. His hair flowed loosely around his shoulders, not quite as groomed as he usually was, and Donnie's breath noticeably caught in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as, without thinking, he shuffled back half a step. Such a small action should not have had any effect at all on what was going on between them, the words left unspoken the most powerful ones at all, but even he would have found it impossible to deny just how his chest tightened, something stirring far deeper within him as, irrevocably, their power dynamic shifted once again.

"If you don't do this, Donnie," he said darkly, smile fixed and pointed. "I won't give you what you want. And you still want it, don't you?"

Donnie held his breath actively, not trusting himself even to breathe as his heart rate leapt into overdrive, the pulsing pound and drive of it making his palms sweat even as the charismatic John smiled as if pleasantly. There was no mistaking the tapping of his foot, however, the rap-tap-tap of the sole hastening and hustling him on to give the only answer that, truly, John would have accepted from him in the first place. It was, of course, the sort of rule and presence of their relationship that was unwritten but they still had to go through the dance regardless, or else they'd find themselves actually in a position where they'd have to stop and consider their relationship a little more seriously. And that was hardly something that either of them wanted to do - not when it was, well...

Donnie pressed his lips together, affecting as nonchalant an air as was possible for him. Despite everything, he had to play it cool, no matter just how his heart pounded and he shifted his weight from one edge of his foot to the other, taking the weight mostly on just the one leg. Casual to the last, he sighed heavily and threw his brother a look that told more than the words that followed.

"I guess..."

He huffed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, puffing out his cheeks with air and avoiding John's eyes pointed as he watched motes of dust swirl in one of the shafts of sunlight, birds up high cawing and rustling; they must have built a nest up in the rafters at some point. That would annoy John's friend to no end but it wasn't really Donnie's fish to fry or battle to win and the city and the job ahead called him on, not to mention the little promise of his brother's that made him want to forget all about the job completely and get right onto altogether more fun matters himself...

Of course, there was far more to be said but John had work to get done too, which was strange enough for him but they had to get down to it sooner or later. He smirked and ripped the cover off a car with a flourish, revealing a jazzed up white Supra of a year that Donnie didn't particularly care about, although the engines and inner workings of did, at least, hold some appeal and interest for him even if he was not so easily swayed by something flashy. It was one, he could assume, that was difficult to get hold of in the country, judging by the tiniest of sighs that broke the barrier of John's lips, his fingertips tracing a path over the hood as if he was suddenly reverent of one of the few things that could, just barely, hold his attention over himself.

He surveyed the car with pursed lips, trying to calm the churning of his guts, which he, at least, hoped that John was not privy to and could not tell just how much he'd affected him. But that was, most likely, just another one of his rather futile hopes at play.

"What's this?"

John grinned and gestured at the car with a flourish that was all showmanship and came without a drop of practice: he was simply that good.

"Our ride!"

Hardly subtle, hardly classy, hardly something that was going to allow them to skim under the radar. Donnie sighed but held back the roll of his eyes with great difficulty.

It was so John.

*

Despite not being particularly interested in the Supra - John didn't even rattle on about it, expecting Donnie to know every last little minute detail that he did and be just as in awe of it as he was - the speed at which John drove rivalled Charles, their childish competition reaching its peak in adulthood. The sunset would have been glorious, glancing off the skyscrapers as if it was striving to paint them an entirely different shade than intended, if they had been one bit interested in that but it was quite fair enough to say that neither brother was at all romantic in that sense, although they could well enough have had a sense of romance in the turn that their lives had taken. It was romantic in a strange sort of way to avoid the hold of the law and do whatever the hell they wanted when they wanted to, on the run and chasing down those who served to oppose them.

In a sense, they were the perfect team.

Smirking, John leaned back in the driver's seat, elbow on the edge of the open window as the wind caused by their passage lifted his hair from his neck and shoulders as if it had suddenly become alive and quite with a mind of its own. Of course, it was a mere illusion and Donnie sucked in a breath as John boldly rolled the seat back, allowing himself more space to relax and stretch out, although his legs were almost as long as Donnie's and, in that kind of car, just on the edge of being uncomfortably cramped into a space that was too small for him to be comfortable.

Yet Donnie's eyes could not help but drop, taking a moment in which to admire the much more entertaining and interesting scenery within the span of the car, John's hips rocking up from the seat as he undid his belt with a one-handed skill that spoke volumes. It should not have been something done between brothers, much less brothers involved in the kind of work that they were, but Donnie was trapped in the passenger seat of the car, breath quickening and raking down his windpipe as he tried to suck in enough to steady himself in the presence of something altogether lewder.

It had started strangely for the two of them, something that everyone and anyone knew was 'wrong' but so much of what they did in their lives together was wrong that it had, eventually, turned into something very 'right' indeed. Donnie tried to look unaffected but he wasn't fooling John even in the slightest as he licked his lips and turned his cheek, the rise and flush of colour in his cheekbones giving the game away even as he pressed his lips, quite firmly, together. Secrets in their world could not be sealed back behind such lips, however, and John confidently rested both hands back on the wheel as his cock throbbed and plumped up, hard and full of desire, although he didn't need his hands on the wheel, of course, to control the car. No, his confidence was in that his dearest of brothers would take care of another particular kind of itch and need for him while they were traversing the entirely boring route to their destination.

John just didn't do boring.

"Quickie?"

Donnie scoffed and flipped his hand at the offer that was really more of a demand, sliding his gaze away out the window at the city flashing by, although he already knew where they were going.

"You're not that slick."

"No. But you're getting hard."

John was right, as he always was and Donnie eyed him, pushing his glasses up his nose for the effect of it rather than because they were slipping down or out of place at all. It was as if everything they did, all that they took on, was pre-meditated and arranged in a sense, a movie scene playing out as John forced the car's engine on, roaring down the main street with single-minded, driving determination.

He didn't have to do it, although it was not because John was his brother or anything like that. But the grudging admiration that had flourished between them left John well and truly on top and Donnie would not have wasted breath on denying the fact that his cock was, rather obviously, tenting out the front of his jeans too. There was no point in wasted words when his lust was already up but he still made a show of scoffing and flipping his brother off as if he was going to refuse, even though the two of them knew that he was going to give in, that his answer had already been given to his brother the very moment he got into the car with him.

Easy. Too easy. Natural, even, despite the act of incest - yes, Donnie would call it by its name and smirk at the illicit meaning, the taboo nature of what he could only take on his own shoulders. It was right and it was the right kind of wrong that stirred up his soul in the best way, although the submission of it, well... That was another kind of power play entirely where John dominated. As if John would ever, not even in his wildest, most fever-induced of dreams, imagine himself to be on the bottom of anything at all! That had made Donnie the perfect choice when they'd started fooling around and his lips had grown well-used to the shape and girth of his brother's cock. So much so that it was as simple as stepping back into his own home to take John's cock into his mouth, the rumbles and bumps of the car around him only serving to jostle him further down to take more into his mouth than, perhaps, he had initially been ready for.

"Yeah... That's the stuff..."

It was all said for his benefit but Donnie shivered all the same: John knew just how to work him over, exerting that sense and level of control that stole into his dreams of a night, turning even the worst of nightmares to seductive sensation. John could drag him out of the worst of days with just a rough, rampant session, although they were hardly things that Donnie actively thought back on, just memories that seemed to appear through his subconscious whenever they were actually needed. And that shaft felt right between his lips, allowing him to forget all about the wrongness of it, not that something like that would have really stopped Donnie in his tracks anyway. It only made it all the better to do something and enjoy it when everyone else would have gasped and said how terrible it was.

Maybe that was why John's pre-cum felt so good drooling onto his tongue as he bobbed his head slowly and languidly, his movements ever so slightly erratic as John's driving worsened, foot inching down on the gas pedal. Of course, that must have been why he drove to begin with: he was more the sort of man who would put himself in such a position that he could be chauffeured around as he pleased, too important to put himself behind the wheel if there was someone else, anyone else, present in the car with him at that time. He'd planned it all along to get his rocks off and what kind of brother would Donnie have been if he had not pushed to give him what he so clearly wanted after all that thought?

Ah, one thought could not be followed through or held onto for very long at all, his mind hazing over with lust as he braced his hand on his brother's thigh, hard with tension: it was not easy for John either to concentrate on the road while he was getting head and Donnie took full advantage of that. He had to go for the battles, after all, that he could win and a little pleasure and control was all part of the game and the challenge between the two of them, what kept them interested, at least somewhat. He slurped lewdly, acting as if he was trying to draw attention to himself, but Donnie knew with a lewd little smirk of self-congratulatory glee that sounds like that, well...they'd have his brother ramped up and needing release sooner rather than later. If he 'had' to please him, he'd sure as hell control when he got to cum from it.

"God damn it, Donnie..."

But Donnie had him just where he wanted him and chuckled throatily around his cock, the sound muffled even as he bobbed his head with seemingly increasing urgency. John did not hold all the cards and the car sped up, the rumble vibrating through to Donnie's bones as he could not see just how fast they were going - he just knew that the situation was becoming ever-increasingly dire as John's proximity to orgasm grew closer and closer, feet shifting and jostling against the pedals of the manual car that required a bit more finesse than a man on the edge of orgasm truly had in his possession.

It was control and it was lust and it was, above all else, power that drove Donnie on, lips and tongue working to draw that sweetness from his brother even as his musk flooded his mouth, impossible to ignore. The wheel jerked and John fumbled past him for the hand brake, cursing fluently, but Donnie didn't care one bit about what difficulties he was having - and most certainly not as the first thick spurt of cum actually filled his mouth.

John swore and shuddered, fighting between maintaining control of the Supra and enjoying his climax, the most primal of things that a man could experience. He was not overly productive for a man and his orgasm was short and sharp and strong, filling Donnie's mouth as he quickly gulped down every drop that was offered to him. Of course, John would have demanded an orgasm off him even if Donnie had been so inclined to ignore his own lust and desire but that was by the by as Donnie managed to heave himself back up in his seat with what he hoped, at least, was a cocky smirk on his lips, tugging them up on just the one side as he appeared just a little too smug and pleased with himself for John's comfort. He patted his brother's thigh condescendingly, John's cock slowly softening in a gleam of saliva and remaining semen.