“Like two side to a coin, there are two sides to life: your reason and emotional facets.” ― Ami Blackwelder
Like two sides to a coin, you live and you die; you fall and you fly.
tracking headofacoin
help fund a trip?
All that’s running through his mind is ‘yes’. Yes, please, god, more. Yes, you’re right, I do deserve that. Yes, but only you. Yes, keep going. Yes to everything you could ask right now, and more. ( He’s way too preoccupied with being adored and the impending blow-job to think about anything else. )
All that’s running through Carson’s head are hazy thoughts trailing between kind and loving things and more vulgar ones along the lines of getting Dorian’s dick in his mouth because they’ve been dragging this out for what seems like ages. So, that’s exactly what he does after slipping his brother’s boxers further down along with his pants. The energy thrumming through his body isn’t just the drugs at this point anymore.
His brother’s voice is like liquid gold in his ear, and he’s basking in the molten praise. Busy glowing with pride, burning with lust, he doesn’t register the change in position until there’re lips on his, hips on his, a hand creeping into his underwear at an unbearably slow pace. He still wants to suck, so he pouts into the kiss and whines a little, but doesn’t do much else. He’s being passionate but passive. He deserves a little worshipping, he thinks.
He broke the kiss long enough to gently graze his teeth along his brother’s jawline, his position shifting so that his thigh was between Dorian’s and putting a faint bit of upwards pressure into the mix. “You deserve the best treatment. You deserve to be taken care of – to be touched in ways that will leave absolutely fucking wrecked.” He took that moment to start moving down his brother’s body until he was pressing light kisses along his brother’s hips, his fingers working to slowly pull the jeans down from around his waist.
That brings out a small moan, almost masked by a languid chuckle, around the digits in his mouth. He can hear the music in the background, filling every inch of the room so it seems smaller, more personal. The physical restraint placed on him by his brother sets his skin on fire. He’s too hot for these clothes, his temperature rising beyond his control, but he’s loving this closed quarters they’ve got going on, and he doesn’t want anything to stop it. ( Keep going, he says with his tongue, licking and sucking Carson’s fingers like his life depends on it. Tell me more. )
This room feels like it’s stifling, but Carson really is enjoying the close proximity he has with his brother at the moment. He’s still rocking their hips together when he let’s his fingers trail along the elastic band of his brother’s boxers. “I know exactly how to touch you, Dorian. I know exactly what to do to make your entire body feel phenomenal – to make you feel what such a perfect person deserves to feel.” A subtle sound of his own fills the area just near his brother’s ear and he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth so he can turn them around, Dorian’s back against the nearby wall while Carson lips and hips are pressing to his, the sudden change in position put him off balance enough to have to support himself against the wall with one hand and the other sinking further below Dorian’s waistband.
A smile graces his lips, accompanied by a breathy hum. He tilts his head to the side, allowing more room for Carson to kiss his neck. ”Mmmmm. Yup. Compliment me more.” No, seriously, this is getting him just as hard as the hand down his pants. He’s ready to be worshipped beyond reasoning, but he wants to put something in his mouth beforehand, and he’s too lazy to bend down, so he catches Carson’s hand with his free one and brings the fingers to his mouth.
Carson takes the final drag from the joint before tossing it in the ashtray. Miraculously, it stays in place. Once that frees another hand, seeing as his brother is currently doing something rather distracting with his other. With his hand free, he finds it settling on Dorian’s hip to keep him more or less in place while Carson rocks his hips forward against his ass. A smirk spreads then, his lips trailing up until they’re just below his ear. “You really are quite a sight. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body that anyone would drool over. You’re practically perfect, Dorian. You’re perfect and you’re mine. I know your weak spots and the places that leave you shaking. Honestly, I could worship you and make you feel better than any of those basic whores you pick up.”
”Same reason we’ve never fucked on a beach,” he says, fingers sliding back and hooking into Carson’s hair. Dorian’s still dancing to the music, only this time he’s doing it to be sexy. He’s not too sure if it’s working, but he’s grinding backwards and doing a little hip shake, so he can’t be doing too badly. This time he wants their fucking to be slower, more dragged out, a lot like making love, though he’ll never say it out loud. He wants to be able to savour it on his tongue. “It’s totally impractical. Sand in the crevices, a broken neck in the shower. My face is too pretty to ruin.”
One hand trailed absently down his brother’s side before working to unbutton the front of his jeans. His other hand is moving to grab the joint from his lips so he can trail the along Dorian’s neck, smile in place as he nudges his nose just beneath his jaw. “I thought I was the one supposed to come up with reasons not to do things. You’re usually the one pushing me to try new things – to live a little more.” By this point, he’s managed to undo both the button and the zipper on Dorian’s pants, his attention only swayed by the hips being pressed back into him. A sound of content made it’s way through his system before he placed a kiss to his brother’s neck. “That’s not the only thing pretty about you, Dorian. Besides… Pretty would be an understatement.”
There’s nothing he loves more than being strung out on drugs and wearing designer clothes. ( He’s got this one Vera Wang shirt he stole from his dad’s closet before he left. It’s too big on him, but the material feels like heaven on his skin. ) Head tilted back on his shoulders, arms flailing around like an idiot… he doesn’t even care that this isn’t music he likes. In this moment, he likes everything.
“Nope. You should, like, come here.”
Emphasis on the dirty word.
A slight chuckle escapes him around the joint and for once, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he’s pushing himself fro the sofa and making his way towards Dorian. His nerves feel like the ends were set on fire and it’s such a thrilling feeling that it’s sinking to settle in the pit of his gut just as he slides behind Dorian and wraps his arms around his flailing brother’s waist, his chin resting carefully on his shoulder to assure the joint doesn’t burn Dorian. “Mm, how come we haven’t fucked in the shower before?”
He’s horny and high and quite frankly, this is the best he’s felt in months. There’s a lazy smile on his face as he watches Dorian dance around like a complete idiot. In his slightly hazed state of mind, it only succeeds in making his basketball shorts more of a blessing than if he had been wearing jeans. Taking a drag from the joint, he exhaled slowly from his nose before dropping one leg from the couch.
He wants nothing to do with this. He’d rather put a bullet through his brain than go to see his parents again. The next time he’s in any close proximity to them, he hopes it’s one of their funeral’s.
“When you go see them, tell them to, like, go fuck themselves.”
Because he honestly doesn’t think for a second Carson won’t go.
His eyes drift to the floor for a moment and he let’s his nail scratch absently at the floor below. There’s a moment of silence. Then he’s returning his focus to Dorian and the unease is clear in everything from his body language to his voice and the way he hasn’t cursed once.
“– What if they, like… are okay with us? What if things are different now? It has been awhile. Maybe they… I don’t know.”
He’s obviously thought about it before. He doesn’t believe it, but he wants to. All he wants to believe is that his parents are willing to accept them in their lives. He just wants his parents to consider them their’s again. Like when they were toddlers and oblivious to the damn world.
There’s a part of him that doesn’t want to tell Dorian. There’s a part of him that just wants to push it all down and hide it away for ever. There’s another part of him that feels like an old scar has been torn open and left to fester – get infected by the memory.
“Mom and dad… called earlier. They want us to visit the house for the fourth of July. To… see how everything’s been…”
“Let’s hit the road, Dorian. Let’s just hit the fucking road and go.”
He’s been thinking about it for a few days now. Truly and properly thinking about how they could just hit the road and get out of here for life. It’s not like they had anyone outside of each other keeping them stationary. They could leave now and keep on going until something forces them stop. It would be
