The Dead Caliber

Jerking off in the same room as your brother isn’t sex, even if you’re doing it at the same time. Even if you can hear him panting from across the room, even if you glance over and catch one fleeting glimpse of his hand stroking his cock, even if you come embarrassingly fast and loud right after that and, hearing you, so does he. Even if one time you maybe did it on the same bed that one time, side-by-side but not touching, just barely not touching, that’s not sex because it can’t be, you wouldn’t do that.

And when their sparring matches involve a little more contact than is truly necessary, when they end up wrestling on the floor, both going easy on the other so this can go on as long as possible, when they’re both hard and not really trying to hide it, when one of them finally pins the other and holds them down for a lot longer than ten seconds (but still not long enough), that’s not sex.

Dean shoving his thumb in Sam’s mouth? That’s a brother thing, being an asshole to your younger sibling. If Sam’s eyes roll back a little, if he runs his tongue over the pad of Dean’s thumb, if there’s maybe (definitely) a sticky wet patch on the front of his jeans that wasn’t there before, well, that’s just Sam’s overactive teenage hormones, or that’s just the fact that he hasn’t gotten laid in a while.

Woooo yes I get to draw some shota! 

Hm. Obviously these drawings are not sequential but in the second picture, I don’t know how Colin managed to strip off his shirt without taking his jacket off. I tend to leave some clothes on because I like clothed sex but as a result often end up with logic flaws. Oh well, logic is overrated anyway :P Maybe Colin was getting a bit chilly, and Damian was gentleman enough to put it back on, you know? (excuse, excuse)

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batcest and ua kissing below

"Why don't you show off your Latin?" Damian says, a little hoarse, steadying himself with his hands on either side of Duke's hips when shivers wrack through his shoulders. "What's the etymology of aphrodisiac?"

Duke's nose scrunches with his grin. "Not Latin," he says, kicking at Damian's knee with his bare foot. "It's Greek, from Aphrodite. The goddess of love. -iac means…" he puffs out his cheeks, thinking. "Connected. Pertaining to."

"Very good." Damian pulls his black undershirt off over his head, then Duke's, and soothes his hand over Duke's hair. His curls are frizzy from the wind and salt-fog of Gotham. Damian leans down to kiss his cheek. "You know I love you, right?"

"'Course," Duke says easily. "I love you too, D."

Staying close, Damian peppers Duke's cheek and round jaw with kisses until he can feel Duke smiling. And they're so close, faces sweaty from patrol, while Damian's impulse control melts smoothly away. Damian kisses him for real, mouth to soft mouth, and Duke tenses up against him. Damian hasn't done this to him before, doesn't think anyone has. It's only natural for him to be a little reticent.