![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Brotherhood (M. Caffee/Carr)
Title: Family
Fandom: Brotherhood
Pairing: Michael Caffee x Colin Carr
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are the property of Showtime. The author in no way profits from this fiction.
Summary: Michael needs to feel alive after Pete's death, and Colin is more than willing. Set after The Lonesome Death of... 4:7-8 (ep. 203). Because the combination of bloody knuckles, an Irish accent, and Jason Isaacs is bound to make me think naughty thoughts.
Warning! This is one of those fics where men kiss other men that they happen to be related to.
Michael licked the blood off Colin's knuckles, already half hard from the display of willful violence earlier. He knew there was something fucked up in his head, knew it and didn't want to admit it. "Michael," Colin gasped, pupils going wide, breath coming hard and fast. He paused, looking up at his cousin, pain and confusion warring with lust. Colin's breath came hard and fast, and then Mike was moving, couldn't help himself.
Colin tasted like blood and whisky, like death and ashes and salty tears, and Michael sobbed into his mouth. Rough bruised hands cradled the sides of his face, and Colin's lips were firm against his, hot and wet and almost enough to take away the pain of Pete's death. "Col'm," he gasped into the wiry Irishman's mouth, and Colin's hands slid down his face to rest on Michael's shoulders. Colin grinned, that devil may care expression, then dropped to his knees, pushing his face against Michael's crotch.
"Yes," Michael hissed out, and then Colin's hands were fumbling with his belt, hurrying his shorts down over his hips. Colin's mouth was just as hot and wet on his cock as it had been against his lips, and he groaned deeply as he was engulfed. Michael's hands scrabbled for something to hold onto, rubbing across Colin's short buzzed hair and down his smooth neck to rest on his shoulders. A groan welled out of Colin's closed throat, and Michael looked down past his cousin's mouth to his groin, to where Colin's hand had slipped into his jeans.
The tendons of Colin's arm twisted and hitched, hand working beneath the rough fabric. "Fuck Col'm," he gasped, and Colin pulled away slightly, gasping, eyes rolling wildly. "Need you," Colin gasped, and Michael groaned softly as the words ghosted over his spit slicked cock. Colin stood, shoving his jeans and shorts down quickly, turning and spreading his thighs, bracing his arms against the exposed brick of the alley wall. "Fuck," Michael swore, stroking his dick twice and then forcing it into Colin's tight ass. Colin swore under his breath, and then Michael was moving, hips slamming up hard and fast.
It was over quickly, rage and despair and bloodlust urging Michael over the edge. He slumped bonelessly against Colin's back, feeling the slighter man still moving under him. "Sorry," he offered, but didn't move, didn't reach down to help Colin get off. Colin groaned softly in response, trembling as he roughly jerked himself to completion, Michael's solid form still pressed warm against his back, Michael's cock still wedged deep inside him. Michael eased himself free slowly, and Colin stayed facing the wall for a moment, let Michael put himself back together. When he did turn around though, Michael pressed against him sweet as could be, licking into his mouth and clinging to his shoulders.
"Let me take ye home," Colin suggested gently, "let me take care of ye fer once, 'stead o' the other way 'round". The only response he got from Michael was a begging sort of kiss, and so he gathered his cousin in his arms, poured him into the passenger seat of the Cadillac and slid behind the wheel. Michael's hand gripped tight on his knee, and Colin wasn't sure quite how they were going to manage this, but he knew they would. They were cousins, Caffees, family.
Fandom: Brotherhood
Pairing: Michael Caffee x Colin Carr
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are the property of Showtime. The author in no way profits from this fiction.
Summary: Michael needs to feel alive after Pete's death, and Colin is more than willing. Set after The Lonesome Death of... 4:7-8 (ep. 203). Because the combination of bloody knuckles, an Irish accent, and Jason Isaacs is bound to make me think naughty thoughts.
Warning! This is one of those fics where men kiss other men that they happen to be related to.
Michael licked the blood off Colin's knuckles, already half hard from the display of willful violence earlier. He knew there was something fucked up in his head, knew it and didn't want to admit it. "Michael," Colin gasped, pupils going wide, breath coming hard and fast. He paused, looking up at his cousin, pain and confusion warring with lust. Colin's breath came hard and fast, and then Mike was moving, couldn't help himself.
Colin tasted like blood and whisky, like death and ashes and salty tears, and Michael sobbed into his mouth. Rough bruised hands cradled the sides of his face, and Colin's lips were firm against his, hot and wet and almost enough to take away the pain of Pete's death. "Col'm," he gasped into the wiry Irishman's mouth, and Colin's hands slid down his face to rest on Michael's shoulders. Colin grinned, that devil may care expression, then dropped to his knees, pushing his face against Michael's crotch.
"Yes," Michael hissed out, and then Colin's hands were fumbling with his belt, hurrying his shorts down over his hips. Colin's mouth was just as hot and wet on his cock as it had been against his lips, and he groaned deeply as he was engulfed. Michael's hands scrabbled for something to hold onto, rubbing across Colin's short buzzed hair and down his smooth neck to rest on his shoulders. A groan welled out of Colin's closed throat, and Michael looked down past his cousin's mouth to his groin, to where Colin's hand had slipped into his jeans.
The tendons of Colin's arm twisted and hitched, hand working beneath the rough fabric. "Fuck Col'm," he gasped, and Colin pulled away slightly, gasping, eyes rolling wildly. "Need you," Colin gasped, and Michael groaned softly as the words ghosted over his spit slicked cock. Colin stood, shoving his jeans and shorts down quickly, turning and spreading his thighs, bracing his arms against the exposed brick of the alley wall. "Fuck," Michael swore, stroking his dick twice and then forcing it into Colin's tight ass. Colin swore under his breath, and then Michael was moving, hips slamming up hard and fast.
It was over quickly, rage and despair and bloodlust urging Michael over the edge. He slumped bonelessly against Colin's back, feeling the slighter man still moving under him. "Sorry," he offered, but didn't move, didn't reach down to help Colin get off. Colin groaned softly in response, trembling as he roughly jerked himself to completion, Michael's solid form still pressed warm against his back, Michael's cock still wedged deep inside him. Michael eased himself free slowly, and Colin stayed facing the wall for a moment, let Michael put himself back together. When he did turn around though, Michael pressed against him sweet as could be, licking into his mouth and clinging to his shoulders.
"Let me take ye home," Colin suggested gently, "let me take care of ye fer once, 'stead o' the other way 'round". The only response he got from Michael was a begging sort of kiss, and so he gathered his cousin in his arms, poured him into the passenger seat of the Cadillac and slid behind the wheel. Michael's hand gripped tight on his knee, and Colin wasn't sure quite how they were going to manage this, but he knew they would. They were cousins, Caffees, family.