#leclercest

Max’s proposition lingers in both brothers’ minds for weeks after the event.

To be fair, Max is the only person that truly knows about them now, the only one with some semblance of an idea of what the Leclerc brothers do with each other behind closed doors. Arthur and Charles tease each other about it, their cheeks flushing red once they really consider the offer. They could call Max up anytime they wanted and he’d rush to come over—and the thought of that excites Charles, if he’s honest. He wants Max to see what he and Arthur get up to.

During one of their weeks off racing—Charles and Arthur have to coordinate when they can see each other considering their busy schedules—they both wind up back home in Monaco, lounging in Charles’ apartment for the weekend. Arthur’s in Charles’ lap on the couch, watching a shitty movie on TV while they wait for their take-out to arrive.

“We should call him,” Charles says out of the blue, giggling when Arthur whips his head around to look at him in shock. “What? It’s been weeks! He’s probably losing hope!” Charles decisively reaches for his phone, anticipation already tingling under his skin. If he does this, there’s really no coming back now—but taking Max up on his offer has been on Charles’ mind ever since he proposed it, and it has certainly been the subject of many of his and Arthur’s fantasies in the weeks that followed.

He opens his text message conversation with Max and scrolls through his photo library to find the perfect picture. It’s an impossible decision—Charles thinks he has lots of winners—but eventually he settles on something rather tame that leaves the viewer wanting more: it’s a photo of Arthur all spread out on the bed underneath him, three of Charles’ fingers buried in his mouth as deep as they’ll go. Arthur’s drooling around them like some sort of slut, his cheeks flushed and hair messy where it’s splayed across the crisp white sheets. God. Even looking at it makes Charles’ cock twitch as he adds it to the message, along with a short line of text: you’re in Monaco this weekend, right? we don’t want you to miss out on this again . . .

Charles’ phone chimes nearly the moment he goes to set it aside. Heart racing in his chest, he picks it up, stomach twisting when he sees Max’s name pop up on the screen.

Fuck, Max had simply typed, no emojis attached. Is this you finally asking for a third?

Charles bites his bottom lip and shows Arthur the text, grinning with excitement. “God,” he whispers, giddy nervousness making his hands shake. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Arthur’s jaw drops for a moment before he giggles too, glancing between the phone and his big brother. Max was the one that proposed this whole thing, sure, but now that it’s a stark reality, his nervousness sweeps up over him, threatening to drown him.

Charles giggles again, cheeks flushing hot as he imagines Max coming over and having his way with the both of them like he insinuated he'd do. He types out yeah. you know where my place is before tossing his phone aside on the couch, wrapping his arms around Arthur instead. “Fuck, I have no idea what to expect,” he breathes, rather worked up with fear and anticipation. “Bébé, are you already getting hard? I didn’t know you liked Max that much.”

Arthur whines at being caught red-handed with a semi rising to attention in his shorts already. He squirms in Charles’ lap, embarrassed at the question. “It’s—it’s not that, Charlie, I just—” he cuts himself off with a grumble, cheeks flushing hot. As loathe to admit it as he is, the thought does excite him; Max is an exceedingly attractive man, clearly interested in his and Charles’ relationship, and eager to join in on what’s kept a secret solely between the two of them. Arthur can only dream about how big Max’s cock is, how he might use that aura of dominance he exudes to order him and Charles around like they’re both his little toys.

“Oh, you are,” Charles teases, his hand settling over the obvious bulge in his baby brother’s shorts. “Maybe we should have done this a long time ago. What are you thinking about, hmm? I’m dying to know.” He grins innocently up at Arthur, his gaze searching. He’d be lying if he said he himself hadn’t been thinking about Max getting involved far before he pitched the idea in the first place; Max is really fucking hot, after all, and Charles knows damn well a word out of Max’s mouth will get his knees weak.

Arthur’s hips involuntarily twitch into the heat of Charles’ palm, arousal beginning to rapidly pool in his lower stomach. “He’d tease us, I bet,” Arthur says, breathless as he imagines it. “He’d tell us how depraved we are, how we’re brothers and shouldn’t be touching each other like this.” He pauses to whine, panting as he ruts into Charles’ hand. “And—his cock, Charlie, fuck—can’t stop thinking about it. Want him to order us around.”

Charles giggles as Arthur goes on and on about what he’s been thinking about. "He’s so confident, and hot, and—fuck, petit, how big do you think his dick is?" Charles bites his bottom lip again, eyes blown wide with lust and excitement. Every minute spent waiting for Max to arrive feels like an eternity, but Charles mitigates the anticipation by leaning forward to kiss Arthur, all slow and hot like how they make out when they have all the time in the world.

Arthur grins, gesturing out with his hands, spreading them almost a foot apart, giggling as he does so. “He’s probably so fucking big,” he murmurs against Charles’ lips before leaning into his kisses, continuing to rut into the addictive heat of Charles’ palm. God, it feels dirty to be talking about one of their colleagues like this, but all the shame in the world instantly evaporates once the fact sinks in that Max is on his way over right now. To have his way with the both of them.

“You wish,” Charles teases between kisses, his hands sliding up underneath Arthur's shirt, feeling along his baby brother’s pretty pale skin. Arthur is already so warm and easy and wanting, letting Charles press his tongue to his without a second thought. He obliges Arthur just a little, squeezing at his hard cock through his shorts and palming at him as he ruts into his lap. Arthur always makes the prettiest noises like this—high-pitched whimpers and whines—and Charles swallows them all greedily, every single one of them going straight to his cock.

Just as Charles is beginning to relax into it, getting a rhythm going, thumbs grazing against Arthur’s hardening nipples, a firm knock at the door makes him gasp. Max.

Charles pulls away, wide-eyed, his lips spit-soaked and kissed-out. He gently nudges Arthur off his lap so he can go get the door, nervousness twisting at his stomach as he goes.

“Hey,” Max says once the door opens. He’s dressed in a tight white shirt, the curve of his pecs and waist prominent through the cotton, and a pair of equally tight jeans. His eyes narrow when he lays eyes on Charles, then his gaze flits behind him to Arthur on the couch, both brothers looking dishevelled, and he smiles. “Don’t tell me you started without me.”

Arthur crosses his legs on the couch, tugging his shirt up over his obvious erection. God, he already feels fucking dumb in Max’s presence and Max has only said one sentence out loud. “It was Charles’ idea,” he quips, his smile bratty and teasing as he points with his thumb to his older brother. He’ll never pass up an opportunity to push Charles’ buttons.

Charles stands aside to let Max in, cheeks already flushing hot with embarrassment. Seriously, Max is just standing here and he’s already ready to melt into a fucking puddle. It’s downright humiliating and Charles finds himself liking it.

“Oh, really?” Max asks, laughing softly as his gaze flits from Charles to Arthur and then back to Charles. “I don’t think so. I can see that, Arthur.” He shifts his gaze, glancing pointedly at the hard-on tenting Arthur’s shorts, then reaches to take hold of Charles’ bicep, firmly guiding him back over to the couch. “You two are gonna keep doing what you were doing before I got here, and I’m going to watch.” Max sits himself down on the couch on the other end from Arthur and crosses his arms in front of his built chest, looking at them both expectantly.

Arthur’s lips part in a mixture of shock and embarrassment, his cock twitching underneath Max’s gaze. With Max looking at him like this, he feels more exposed than he does when he’s naked; it’s intoxicating how easily Max can take control of the situation, order the two of them about as if it’s second nature to him.

Charles obeys Max so eagerly, as if he’s always meant to. He wastes no time in sinking back into the couch cushions, manhandling his baby brother into his lap and feeling the line of Arthur’s cock hard against his thigh. He takes Arthur’s face between his hands and kisses him again, a hot, open-mouthed affair, tongues pressing hurriedly against one another.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Max says, voice low and rumbly from the other side of the couch, his smile audible. “I suspected you two had something going on, you know. It’s not normal to see two brothers touching each other the way you do.” He takes in a deep breath of air, then lets it out in a sigh. “Charles, touch your little brother a little, won’t you? Look at him—he’s practically gagging for it.”

Not even breaking the kiss to question Max, Charles slips one hand below Arthur’s waistband and teases at his cock over the thin material of his boxers. Arthur’s already a little wet, pre-come drooling from the tip of his cock, and it only spurs Charles on, dragging his thumb over the wet spot on the fabric.

“Charlie,” Arthur whines between kisses, his hips twitching into Charles’ touch. The slow drag of Charles’ thumb across the tip of his cock is so deliciously stimulating and it makes Arthur arch his back, cheeks flushing a pretty embarrassed pink. It’s one thing to do this with Charles behind closed doors where no one can see, their secret safe with each other, but with Max watching, Arthur feels something dark and feral gnaw at his stomach. He can’t stop thinking about the way Max talks to them, tells them what they’re doing is wrong; simply listening to him and letting the words sink in makes Arthur needy to come despite having only just started.

Max laughs, so deep and hot and thoroughly infuriating. “Is he always like this, Charles?” he asks, although he isn’t exactly expecting a reply. “Look at him. Look at how desperate he is for you. Or maybe he’s just putting on a show for me?” Max watches them for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he debates pushing further. He does. “That must be it. You two wanted me to watch, tell you how wrong this is. Is that it?”

Charles whimpers, wholly humiliated by how Max sees right through them. He breaks the kiss for a moment, hand still working at the front of Arthur’s wet boxers. “He—he is,” he says, voice shaking with it. He can’t stop thinking about how Max talks about Arthur like he’s not even there. “You should see how he begs for me, Max.”

Five minutes into this fucked up scene and Arthur thinks he might die from the way Max and Charles talk about him like he’s nothing but their little toy, their slut who deserves no input. He moans, hips shifting forward to seek out more friction from Charles’ warm palm, his cock fucking aching in his wet boxers. If there’s one thing Arthur can do well in this world, it’s beg, and he does just that, giving Charles his biggest, glassiest eyes and pursing his lips in a pout. “More, Charlie, please,” he breathes, feeling Max’s gaze burn into his back. “Please. Need you so bad it hurts.”

Charles turns his head to look at Max, smiling as if to say, see? and not letting up on how he’s teasing at Arthur’s cock.

Max smiles sweetly right back, splaying his thighs just the tiniest bit apart where he’s sitting on the couch. Without any hesitation, Charles’ eyes fly to Max’s crotch, where his cock is just beginning to perk up in his jeans. “You're right, Charles, he does beg so nicely,” he says, glowing with approval. He watches them for a few more long moments, then looks at Charles strangely. “So . . . aren’t you going to do what he’s begging you for? Come on. Let’s put that pretty mouth to use. I bet he’ll cry once you get your mouth on his needy cock.”

Arthur downright whimpers at the suggestion, hips thrusting wildly into Charles’ hand. “Please, Charlie, need your mouth so bad,” he begs, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He feels perpetually teased by both Charles and Max in this moment, aching to finally get some long-needed relief. Arthur shifts his frantic gaze to Max, and somehow it’s just as easy to beg Max as it is to beg his older brother. “Make him hurry up, Max, please, I can’t wait anymore,” he breathes, dragging out the last word in a whine. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this turned-on in his life; Max being right here, watching their every move with those calculating blue eyes has Arthur feeling deliciously on-edge. Why hadn’t he and Charles done this sooner?

“Oh,” Max says, laughing again and resting the palm of one big hand over the bulge forming in his jeans, “he’s got a bit of a mouth on him, too, huh?” Even though Arthur is speaking directly to him, he can’t help but keep treating Arthur as if he’s nothing but a toy. “You heard him, Charles. Hurry up now. I don’t like to be kept waiting, especially if it’s two pretty things like you.”

Charles nods, immediately obeying, and lifts Arthur off his lap long enough to slide off the couch and onto his knees. It’s easy for him to undo Arthur’s shorts and slide them off him—it’s a dance they’ve done a thousand times before—but doing all this under Max’s watchful eye is so much more embarrassing. “Don't worry, bébé,” he breathes, finally talking directly to Arthur now, “I’ve got you, okay?” He pulls back Arthur's boxers, letting his flushed, leaking cock spring free, and wastes no time in getting his mouth on it, letting the head sit upon his tongue.

Arthur can’t help but babble the moment Charles gets his cock in his mouth. “Thank you, Charlie, thank you, fuck, you’re so good to me, so so good,” he whines, his hands flying to grab at Charles’ hair. Charles’ mouth feels downright heavenly around his cock and it takes all of Arthur’s self-control not to fuck into it like an animal in heat, chasing that delicious hot wet friction against his aching cock.

Max greedily takes in the sight, watches as Charles takes his baby brother’s cock into his mouth. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, the praise soft as he finally makes eye contact with Arthur, talking right to him now. “Tell him what a good job he’s doing. Isn’t he such a perfect older brother? Look at me, Arthur.” Max’s gaze is intense, so casually dominant. “Tell me. Were you thinking about this as much as I was? Did you want me to watch your brother fuck you?”

Charles whimpers around Arthur’s cock as he hears Max and Arthur talking about him like he’s the toy now. With a cock in his mouth, all he can do is focus on making Arthur feel good, dragging his hot tongue up the length of it and teasing at the slit before dipping back down. Max’s praise sends wave after wave of heat to his already throbbing cock and it’s infuriating.

God, Arthur doesn’t think it’s ever been this difficult to look at Max—but to be fair, he hadn’t ever had to talk to Max while his big brother was sucking him off. “Fuck—yes, yes, I was, Max. Couldn’t stop thinking about it since you found us. Want you to watch him fuck me—ah, please. See me all spread out on my big brother’s cock.” The words feel filthy as they tumble from Arthur’s mouth, but like this, with his orgasm rapidly approaching, he can’t bring himself to care. His voice pitches up as he obeys Max and whines to Charles, “Feels so good, Charlie, fuck, can’t get enough of your mouth. So good to me, so good, please make me come, ah—love you so much . . .”

Max stares at him, silent for a few long moments. “Good,” he says, grinning, then nods to how Arthur’s thighs tremble with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Stop, Charles.” The command comes out soft yet firm, easily dominant just like the rest of him. “We can’t have him coming yet. That wouldn’t be very much fun.”

Charles pulls off Arthur’s cock with a wet pop, his lips and chin soaked with spit. He looks at Arthur regretfully, a wordless I’m sorry, and murmurs, “I love you too,” his voice raspy from the cock that was just down his throat.

Max emits a sigh again, getting up off the couch and rising to his full height. He casually approaches where Charles is still on his knees and runs his fingers gently through his hair. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable,” he urges.

Arthur lets his hands slip from Charles’ hair, crestfallen at being denied the sweet relief of an orgasm, but some part of him understands, knows that when he’s finally allowed to come tonight, it’ll be a lot better than just having his brother’s mouth on him. God, Max is so nonchalantly dominant that it makes Arthur’s stomach twist, his spit-slick cock twitching in the cool air. His command has Arthur immediately scrambling to obey, tucking his cock back into his shorts before following Charles and Max into the bedroom.

Charles reaches to wrap an arm around Arthur’s waist as they head to the bedroom, fitting himself against his baby brother’s side. He feels so small, so humiliated in Max’s presence that it drives him up the wall. Once in the bedroom, Charles climbs right up onto the bed, kneeling on the plush mattress and waiting for Max’s orders. It's striking how quickly Charles’ demeanour can change; one day he could be ordering Arthur around just like this, but whenever Max is around, Charles’ muscles go weak and he’s made to obey like some sort of pet.

“That’s right, you can get up there,” Max encourages, watching as the brothers climb up onto the bed. “Charles, take your brother’s clothes off first. I think we both want to see how pretty he is without everything covering him.”

Charles bites his lip, obeying without question. He runs his hands up underneath Arthur’s shirt before sliding it easily over his head and tossing it to the side, then moving onto his shorts.

Even when all Charles has done is take his shirt off, Arthur feels so exposed under Max’s watchful eye, almost wanting to wrap his arms around himself and cover up as if they’ve both walked in on him changing. The air feels thick and heavy with want as Arthur pants for more, lifting himself off the bed to help Charles undress him. He’s so easy like this, preening under the attention despite his embarrassment; he’d like nothing more than for Charles and Max to have their way with him right here and now, and thankfully, he knows that’s what he’ll get.

Max hums in approval once Charles strips Arthur of his boxers, leaving him completely naked. He rakes his gaze over Arthur’s body, taking in every inch of it. He’s lean and pretty, and his cock, while not big, is adorably flushed and hard and leaking against his stomach, still slick with spit and pre-come. “He’s so pretty, Charles. Look at him. Tell him how pretty he is.”

Charles swallows thickly, gaze darting between Max and Arthur before Max tells him to look at his baby brother. He runs his hands up Arthur’s sides, leaning in to kiss him briefly. “You’re so beautiful, petit,” he breathes, the praise coming easy to him. “You’re my everything. I love you so much.”

Arthur has to take a deep breath, stomach turning under both Charles’ and Max’s eyes, but he certainly can’t deny that Charles’ words soothe him. He smiles, pretty and soft as the sun’s rays, and murmurs back, “I love you more, Charlie. You’re the best big brother I could ask for,” before he purses his lips and meets Charles’ mouth in a kiss. The intimacy of the moment is striking, even with Max watching on as if he’s been given the greatest gift of his life.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” Max hums, smiling as he perches himself on the other end of the bed, perhaps a little too close for comfort. “The world would be shocked if they found out the Leclerc brothers are in a very serious relationship. Arthur, take Charles’ clothes off now, will you? We can’t have him feeling left out.”

Charles eagerly helps Arthur along, slipping his clothes off even as Max watches on. His words, although taunting, go straight to Charles’ cock. What would the world think? People would talk, surely, say they’re disgusting and immoral. Their careers would be finished the second their teams found out. And what of it? Charles doesn’t think he’d let Arthur go—not even then.

Arthur’s never been so grateful for his big brother’s help because fuck, his hands shake with the prospect of the world finding out the truth. Max is right and Charles knows it scares Arthur more than anything. He can picture the press outside their apartment building, knocking at their windows, microphones and cameras in their faces the moment they dare to step outside, tabloids upon tabloids with their faces on the cover. Arthur has to silently thank Max for being just as depraved as they are because if not, both of their careers would be over faster than he could blink.

“Hey,” Max says, shifting closer on the bed and sliding his hand up over Arthur’s bare back, touching him for the very first time. “I can practically hear you worrying. I won’t tell anyone. Just means I get to see this all for myself, and I quite like that.” His hand on Arthur's back slips lower, down his spine, then around his hip to his front before Max’s warm fingertips graze the sensitive skin of his cock. “So hard, aren’t you? Missing your brother’s mouth on you?” He laughs, dragging his thumb roughly over the tip of Arthur’s cock before lifting off. “Maybe you should ask him to fuck you instead.”

“Fuck,” Arthur breathes, feeling himself relax into Max’s touch. Not only does Max know exactly what to say to get him riled up to near-tears, but he also knows how to pull Arthur right out of his own head, telling him gently to focus on the moment. His thumb against the wet tip of Arthur’s cock hurts in the best way, making Arthur cry out, his desperation back in full swing. “Charlie,” he begs, breathless as his hips twitch into Max’s touch, “please. Need you inside me so bad—haven’t I been good? Please. I’ve been good for you both, please.”

Charles, now fully naked under Max’s gaze too, nods and leans in for a few kisses. They kiss a few times, slowly, just tasting each other, and Charles thinks he can feel Max hungrily looking on. He swears Max would eat them if he could. “You’ll look so pretty, bébé,” he whispers, thumb stroking across Arthur’s flushed cheek.

“Let’s get him on his hands and knees, Charles,” Max orders, and passes him a bottle of lube. Charles hadn’t even noticed Max bring that in. “Finger him open for me, show me he’s able to take your cock. Or my cock.” His teeth catch on his bottom lip. Max knows damn well they’ve both been thinking about his cock, and right now he’s rock fucking hard.

“You heard him, petit,” Charles murmurs, leaning in to steal one last kiss. “On your hands and knees.”

Arthur shakes with excitement as he hauls himself up to assume his position, spreading himself out on his hands and knees. He splays his thighs just the tiniest bit apart, arching his spine to show off the pert and pretty curve of his ass and tries not to show just how much he has been thinking about Max’s cock, how he’s been dreaming about taking it like the good little whore he is.

Charles squeezes some lube out onto his fingers and teases one finger between Arthur’s cheeks, slipping the tip of his index finger just inside his hole. He’s tight and warm like always, maybe more relaxed than usual since they’d fucked this morning, but Charles will never stop loving it. It’s easy for him to add a second finger, spreading Arthur apart and delighting in the pretty noises his baby brother makes when he does.

“Charles,” Max says, shifting closer on his knees, “are you getting stage fright? That’s a pathetic excuse for fingering your little brother open. Here.” One of Max’s big warm hands settles on the small of Arthur’s back and the other wraps around Charles’ wrist, guiding him to fuck into Arthur deeper with his fingers, twisting his wrist as he goes. “Now curl them,” he whispers, and Charles obeys, taking the initiative to add a third finger too, Arthur taking it all.

Goosebumps erupt all over Arthur’s skin once Max’s hand lays warm over his back. He draws in a sharp gasp as Charles’ fingers nudge into his prostate, the sudden onslaught of pleasure setting his nerves on fire and sending his back into a delicious arch. “Fuck, ah—right there,” he whines, cock aching with how badly he needs to be fucked. Arthur can’t get enough of how Charles and Max treat him as if he’s just their toy, their little plaything to have fun with.

Max laughs softly, petting along Arthur’s back, following the curve of his spine. “You take it so well,” he coos. “I can’t wait to see your brother fuck you. Charles, that's enough. Get him on his back and fuck him, please. I think he might die if you don’t." He lets his touch slip from Arthur's back and Charles’ wrist, retreating back to his spot at the end of the bed.

Charles obliges, taking his fingers out and turning Arthur over to his back. His baby brother looks so pretty like this, soft blondish hair splayed across the white sheets, thighs spread to show off his leaking cock and slick little hole. Charles coats his cock with lube, wincing at how cold it is against his skin, and presses the head of it into Arthur’s hole, gasping at how fucking good it feels after being so hard and desperate for so long.

Arthur can’t help but cry out in sheer relief when Charles’ massive cockhead slips into him, forcing his silky walls apart in the best way. “Please, Charlie, need all of it,” he begs, debauched, gazing up at Charles with his biggest, glassiest eyes. “I can have it, can’t I? Haven’t I been good?” He fists at the sheets, breath catching in his throat as Charles sinks further into his hole.

Charles listens, of course—always the doting big brother—and pushes his cock steadily, inch by inch, into Arthur’s tight little hole. He’s so slick and desperate and warm like this, begging pathetically for it, and who would Charles be to refuse, especially when Max has his eyes on them both? “Of course, mon petit,” he whispers shakily, bottoming out inside him and leaning down to kiss Arthur again. He can’t get enough of kissing him when they’re like this, connected as brothers in the most intimate way possible.

“You two look so good together,” Max says, and for the first time tonight his voice shakes. Charles casts a surprised glance in his direction only to see Max brazenly palming himself through his jeans, hips twitching up to meet his hand, and his cock looks huge through the fabric. Charles’ mouth waters at the thought of it. “That’s right, Charles. Keep fucking him. You wouldn’t leave your baby brother hanging, would you?”

Arthur feels so full that he thinks he might burst. No matter how many times he and Charles do this, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop fearing that he might split apart one day from how big Charles’ cock is inside him. “Please,” he whines, nearly babbling now as his hole clenches around Charles’ cock, “need you to move, Charlie, please please fuck me. I’ve been good, please, I’m your baby, I promise.”

Max smiles warmly, reaches over to ruffle Arthur’s hair where he's lying all spread out, being fucked open by his very own brother. “He’s right, Charles,” he says, stroking Arthur’s hair, feeling it soft around his fingers. “He’s been so good tonight, for both of us. I think it’s only fair that you give him his reward, yeah?” He shifts again, rounding to the other side of the bed to slip in behind Charles, getting his fingers around the base of Charles’ cock and helping him press his way in. “That’s it. Until I’m touching him.”

Charles moans at the touch of Max’s fingers to his cock, slim and supple yet strong at the same time, from a lifetime of racing cars. He tries to focus on pushing into Arthur to the hilt with each thrust, pressing into him until Max’s fingers meet Arthur’s skin, but at the same time he feels Max mouthing at his neck and it’s all so much. “Fuck,” he whines, his movements erratic, but he thinks Arthur is enjoying it all the same.

While Arthur is normally shy about being too loud, Max and Charles almost make him want to be. He moans with each push of Charles’ cock into his hole, feeling Max’s fingers against his skin every time. Arthur has to swallow around the drool that floods his mouth at just how insane this is. “You fill me so well, Charles,” he breathes, mouth hanging open as he pants with it. He hopes his eyes, big and wide and wet, convey just how much more of this he wants.

“I bet your brother would do anything for you, Arthur,” Max goes on, fingers still wrapped around Charles’ cock as he fucks into him. “He’s so hard, I can feel it. He can’t get enough of you. But why would he, when you’re always so pretty, laid out just for him to fuck?” Max laughs softly, his other hand on Charles’ hip keeping his pace steady.

Charles thinks he wants to cry out of embarrassment. He can feel Max’s clothed erection pressing up against his bare ass and it’s all so terribly distracting. Max’s eyes are trained on where his cock disappears rhythmically into Arthur’s hole, filling him up like his life depends on it. “Fuck, petit, you feel so good,” he moans, tilting his head back and whining when he feels Max’s lips on his neck again.

Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to unhear the way Max calls him pretty, praises how easy he is for his big brother. He chokes back a cry, wishing he could melt into the mattress. “He’s the best big brother, Max,” he pants, breath lodging in his throat at a particularly hard thrust. “He’s so good to me. Spoils me so much.” His cock twitches against his stomach, the head drooling out another bead of pre-come at the praise that fills the air.

“He’s so good to you,” Max agrees, speaking low and soft and downright alluring. “And you two look so pretty together. It feels wrong, doesn’t it? Kissing your brother? Letting him fuck you? Or maybe you’re beyond that. I think you’re proud of it, Arthur.” Max can’t seem to find where to stop, the words falling readily from his lips, but he thinks all his words ring true. “But I don’t think that’s all. You were so excited when I showed up tonight, weren’t you? Have you been thinking about me, too?”

Charles whines, each further word from Max going straight to his cock. He fucks desperately into Arthur, his hips stuttering as he tries his best to focus on a rhythm, but Max is—he’s fucking hot, and dominant, and knows just how to toy with them both, play with them like they’re his puppets. Charles can’t get him out of his head.

Arthur tilts his head back into the sheets, his cheeks flushing hot as the words spill out of him. “Yes, Max,” he breathes, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, “couldn’t stop thinking about your cock. Ever since you found us I’ve wanted you to insult us, tell us how horrible we are.” Arthur pants desperately as Charles fucks him, scrabbling at the sheets for purchase. He can’t get enough of how Max sees right through them, sees right through their façade of a normal brotherly relationship. Max knows the real them, and it makes Arthur want to come just thinking about it.

Max finally lets go of Charles, lets his cock slip from his fingers, but encourages Charles to keep fucking his brother nonetheless. He shifts to lift his tight white shirt over his head before moving onto his jeans, tossing those aside to only leave him in his boxers, his cock obscenely tenting them. “That’s it, Charles, I can tell he’s close,” he murmurs, still eyeing them hungrily, but now he palms at himself through his boxers, the massive length of his cock quite visible through the thin fabric. “Make him come.”

Charles wouldn’t ever dream of doing otherwise. As he fucks Arthur, he reaches between their bodies to get a hand around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. He can tell Arthur’s close by the way his thighs shake, his mouth dropping open in sheer pleasure. Charles wants nothing more than to watch his brother come all over his gorgeous slim stomach.

As Arthur nears his orgasm, he squirms, thighs trembling as Charles strokes roughly at his aching cock. “Gonna come, Charlie,” he whines, mouth hanging open as he arches his back in pleasure. “Please make me come, please, please.”

Charles pants, his pace relentless, and he snaps his head up to look at Max for permission despite him making the order just a moment ago.

“Yes, Charles,” Max says softly, his own breath coming a little heavier now as he palms himself through his boxers. “Make him come. He’ll make such a pretty mess, won’t he?”

That’s all Charles needs to finish the job. He watches in awe, wide-eyed, as Arthur shoots out all across his pale stomach, moaning and crying as he goes. Charles thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s close himself; he thinks he can only hold on for a few more deep strokes into Arthur’s tight hole before he fills his baby brother up like he’s been begging for all night.

Arthur flushes once he comes all over himself, making a big mess of his pretty, unblemished skin. He wants to cry at how good this is, how much it is; Charles doesn’t let up with how hard he’s fucking into him and Arthur’s thighs twitch with overstimulation. “Come in me, Charles, please—knock me up. I’ve been good, I’ve been good.” He utters his plea aloud before he’s able to censor himself—should he really say something like that with Max right there? Arthur’s teeth worry at his bottom lip, eyes glazing over as Charles uses him.

Max’s breath hitches and Arthur’s slutty pleas are all he needs to slide his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, taking his cock into his hand for real this time. “Fuck,” he mutters out loud, jerking himself off properly, “you wanna be bred, Arthur? You want your brother to fuck a baby into you? Fuck.” He has to take a deep breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight in front of him. “You can come, Charles. Knock your little brother up.”

When Charles gets Max’s permission, he comes right there on the spot with a choked cry, filling his brother’s tight little hole with it. The orgasm is so strong it sets his nerves on fire, pleasure washing through his body as his hips stutter through it. It’s too fucking good, the mix of bliss and humiliation, and Charles wonders why they hadn’t done this sooner.

“Fuck,” Arthur curses under his breath once Charles slows to a stop. Max’s words make his spent cock twitch up to attention once again against his messy stomach—it’s really like he’s nothing but Charles’ and Max’s toy for them to play with, to fuck into and come in. Arthur loves it. “Feel so full, Charlie. Feel so round with your babies.”

“God, you look round with it, too,” Max says, taking his hand out of his boxers and instead reaching to slide it across Arthur’s tummy, covered in his own slick, and he settles it over the slight bulge in his lower stomach. “Arthur, do you think your big brother knows how to share? I want to see if you’d look as pretty taking my cock as you did taking his. What do you think?”

Charles, still buried to the hilt inside Arthur, gasps softly at Max’s words. Max wants to fuck Arthur, right in front of him? He tries not to think about how fucking hot that idea is, seeing Arthur squirming and moaning as he’s split open on Max’s massive cock. “I know how to share,” he says, and it comes out so pathetically whiny. “I’m really good at it, Max. I promise.”

Arthur nods, frantic, his hole clenching around Charles’ cock as he imagines taking Max’s huge length inside him. He’s even bigger than Charles and that drives Arthur wild to think about. “He knows how to share, Max, I promise,” Arthur whines. He fears he might die if Max doesn’t fuck him open right in front of his big brother. “Please, Max, I need to take your cock too. I can do it.”

Max laughs softly, patting Arthur’s stomach before bringing his come-covered hand up to Arthur’s mouth. Immediately, Arthur’s tongue darts out to clean up his mess, his skilled tongue dipping and teasing between Max’s fingers. “That’s what I thought,” Max says, smiling. “Charles, pull out of him. I want to see how well you filled him up.”

Charles immediately obeys, slowly pulling out of Arthur’s fucked-out hole with a wince. Immediately, he can see the creampie leaking out of him, and while normally he’d chase it with his tongue, he’d much rather see Max fuck right back into him around that fresh slick. “I’ll watch, please,” he begs, already taking hold of his slick cock. “Wanna see him take it, Max.”

“You two are so perfect,” Max praises, soft and reverent as he slides his boxers off to expose his huge cock for the very first time. It takes a few long moments for him to cover it in lube, but soon enough he’s fitting his enormous cockhead against Arthur’s slick rim.

Arthur shudders as he feels Max’s cockhead press against his wet hole. Fuck, he knew Max was big, but for a moment Arthur panics, worrying that he might not be able to take Max after all. “Fuck, Charlie, he’s so big,” he breathes in a mixture of fear and excitement. “Exactly what I wanted. I was right, wasn’t I? Oh my God.”

“Bet you’ve been thinking about this ever since I found you two at that dinner,” Max taunts as he slowly pushes his cock into Arthur, using Charles’ creampie as extra slick to help him along, Arthur’s hole fluttering around him as he tries to adjust. “You’ve been getting off to the thought of me telling you two how disgusting you are, what whores you are. Am I right?” Max quite enjoys having all his attention on Arthur. He playfully rubs his thumb across Arthur’s nipple, delighting in how it eagerly perks up under his touch.

While Charles wants to be jealous at how Max touches his little brother, he can’t look away from how Max’s huge cock disappears inside Arthur’s needy little hole. Arthur’s taking him so well and it gets Charles so impossibly hot. “Fuck, petit, isn’t he big?” he breathes, wetting his lips. “You take him so well. Look at you.”

Arthur thinks he might choke on Max’s cock despite Max fucking his hole rather than his mouth. It’s so fucking big, much bigger than Charles, and Arthur thinks Max might genuinely kill him with his size. He tries his best to relax, let Max’s cock part the slick walls of his hole, but God, Arthur hasn’t taken anything this big before. “Max, yes, yes—you’re right, you’re so right. Can’t stop thinking about you watching us, insulting us.” He has to force the words out—he can practically feel Max’s cock in his throat—but when Max rewards him with a gentle push of his hips he thinks it’s all worth it.

Max smiles, thumb still grazing Arthur’s nipple as he pushes steadily into him, bottoming out within moments. Arthur is so tight and slick and delicious around him, clenching down with every shift of Max’s cock. “There, you took it so well,” he praises, taking in every inch of Arthur’s beautiful needy face, lips parted on a whine. “I think maybe we need to put your pretty mouth to work now, don’t you? Charles, come here. I want your brother to get his mouth around you while I fuck him.”

Charles’ stomach twists at the thought of him and Max using both of Arthur’s holes at the same time. It’s so wrong, he thinks, but his body takes over for his brain and he’s shifting on the bed to feed the first inch of his cock into Arthur’s awaiting mouth.

Tears prick at the corners of Arthur’s eyes as Charles forces his cock into his mouth, all hot and wet and perfect. Max thrusts into him at just the same time and it makes Arthur cry out around Charles’ cock, strangled and muffled around Charles’ huge length. He shuts up and takes it regardless, his cock twitching against his stomach at being used like this, drooling pre-come out over his skin. It’s easy for him to put his mouth to work, eyes slipping shut as he traces up Charles’ cock with his tongue.

“Oh,” Max breathes, panting as he slowly pulls back before pushing back into Arthur’s tight hole, “look at that. He’s got a greedy little mouth on him, doesn’t he, Charles?” He takes Arthur’s thighs into his hands, squeezing tight, fingertips sure to leave bruises there by tomorrow morning, and fucks into him around the creampie Charles had left, the sound of it obscene in the otherwise quiet room. “He's born to take it, I think. Meant to always have two cocks filling his holes, huh?”

Charles nearly goes dizzy at Max’s words, and pleasure immediately shoots up his spine at how good Arthur’s mouth feels around his sensitive cock. He’s eager to fuck deeper into Arthur’s mouth, pushing in until he’s choking with it. “Yes,” he gasps out in response to Max, breathless from everything that's happening. “He is. He loves us filling him like this, Max.” Charles tilts his head back, panting with the pleasure. It’s all so much.

Arthur’s thighs tremble in Max’s hands, shaking with how good they both fuck him. He was born for this, he thinks. Born to be caught between Charles and Max, born to take cock in both of his slutty holes, born not to be just Charles’ little brother but also to be his fucktoy. He moans around Charles’ cock, back arching as Max fucks right up into his prostate, and hopes to whatever God is out there that this won’t be the last time he finds himself in the middle of Charles and Max.

“I bet he won’t last long at all,” Max goes on, a taunting lilt to his voice as he laughs and fucks into Arthur harder. “He’s a little whore, isn’t he, Charles? Taking us both so well. Look at his cute little cock.” He smiles and focuses his attention on Arthur’s cock, hard and leaking, as it bounces against his stomach with each thrust. Max’s cock is so big, pushing deep into Arthur and once again seeking out the spot that’ll surely push him over the edge.

Charles gasps with pleasure, whining out loud as his little brother's tongue laves all over his cock. It’s so good, he thinks, just like under the table at that dinner, the dinner where Max found out about them. “He is,” he manages to whimper in response, thighs shaking as he thrusts gently in and out of Arthur’s mouth. “Always begs for me so pretty, Max. I can’t help but be a good older brother and give him what he wants.”

By the shaking of his thighs and the tears running down his cheeks, Max can tell Arthur is close, and honestly, he is too after watching the gorgeous show the two brothers put on for him tonight. He gets one hand around Arthur’s wet little cock and strokes it as he fucks him, being sure to nudge up into his prostate with each thrust. “Are you close, baby?” he asks, although he certainly isn't expecting an answer with how full of cock Arthur’s mouth is. “Come for us. Come for me and your big brother, show us what a mess you can make.”

Charles’ gentle thrusts into Arthur’s mouth become more erratic as he nears his own orgasm. Arthur looks so pretty with tears in his eyes and drool running down his chin as he takes everything that’s given to him. The sight alone shoves Charles towards the edge, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels his orgasm approach him like a massive wave.

Arthur certainly doesn’t need Max to tell him again. With a few more strokes against his cock and the relentless push of Max’s cock into his ruined hole, Arthur cries out against Charles’ cock and comes onto Max’s fist. He’s always the first to come—so easy to please—and it makes him feel like a fucking slut, nothing but a pathetic toy for Charles and Max to use. He’s obsessed with the idea of Max coming inside him too, his come mixing with his big brother’s and stuffing him full. Arthur drools around Charles’ cock, trying his best to swallow around it as Charles thrusts into his mouth.

The vibrations of his baby brother’s whine against his cock is all it takes for Charles to tip over the edge, coming hard right down Arthur’s throat. His incessant thrusting into Arthur’s mouth doesn't slow, however—he desperately rides out his orgasm even when he hears Max’s amused chuckle from behind him. “Fuck,” he whines, choking out an overstimulated sob. It’s so good, but also so much. The knowledge of Max watching all this is nearly too much for him.

Max is pretty damn close himself. He swears softly under his breath and with a few more deep strokes into Arthur’s tight hole, he comes too, filling Arthur right up with it. As he fucks it into him, the sounds are obscene from his come mixing with Charles’ inside him. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever seen, and ever heard. He thanks his lucky stars that he was able to piece together the two brothers’ true relationship himself.

Arthur can’t stop whimpering and whining underneath the both of them, feeling so pathetically fucked-out and full. Max’s come mixing with Charles’ inside him feels better than Arthur ever thought it would and he selfishly wishes he could keep it forever, always feel stuffed with their babies.

Charles slowly takes his cock out of Arthur’s mouth once he’d swallowed all his come, leaving his lips spit-soaked and flushed such a pretty red. He runs his fingers slowly through Arthur’s hair, suddenly overcome by affection for his sweet little brother, always behaving so well for him. “I told you he could take it, Max,” Charles says, but doesn’t take his eyes away from Arthur’s face; he looks down at Arthur fondly, shifting around on the bed so he can lean down and kiss his brother properly.

“Oh, I didn’t doubt it for a second,” Max says, sounding exceedingly pleased. He pulls out of Arthur’s tight little hole and rejoices in the sight of his and Charles’ come leaking out of him, making even more of a mess of the sheets. “He was so good for us, wasn’t he? That’s it, Charles. I love when you treat him all sweet.” If Max wasn’t already thoroughly exhausted, his cock would have surely been hardening up again simply at the sight of the two brothers kissing. It’s sick and perverted in just the right way that keeps drawing Max in.

A soft sigh falls from Arthur’s lips as he melts into his big brother’s touch, mouth feeling used and fucked-out as he purses his lips for a kiss. He’ll never get enough of the way Charles looks at him, as if he’s his everything. He’s weak for Charles like this—weak for his fingers in his hair, weak for the way he calls him petit and bébé, weak for the way they love despite being brothers. Arthur doesn’t think he wants to be anything else.

Max watches them hungrily, and while for a moment he thought he was exhausted after such a great fuck, his cock twitches back to attention against his stomach. He moves aside, casually leaning back against the pillows on the bed, and wraps one hand around his stiffening cock. Not moving, yet, but waiting. “Charles, you'll help your little brother clean up, won't you?” he asks, his voice soft and honey-sweet.

Charles nods, pulling away from the kiss just long enough to gaze over Arthur’s pretty face once more. He looks ruined—tear tracks drying on his face, lips slick with spit and come, hair beautifully messy—and Charles has never seen anything more gorgeous. “Of course,” he responds, and moves to get up, but that’s when he notices Max sitting at the head of the bed. He’s watching them. With a hand around himself. He gets off on this. Charles’ stomach twists, but he makes his way to the bathroom to get a damp washcloth anyway. If Max wants a show, he and Arthur will put one on for him.

As Charles heads to the bathroom, he can practically feel Max’s gaze burning a hole into his back. He returns with a damp washcloth and tries not to think about how Max is watching them, touching himself to the sight of him being sweet and taking care of his little brother. “You were so good for us, petit,” he praises softly, running the cloth over Arthur’s skin and mopping up all the sticky come that had landed on his stomach and thighs. “You're so pretty. I love you.”

Max’s cock twitches again in his hand as he greedily watches the show. The two brothers saying I love you to each other is dirty in the best way and it makes Max start to move, lazily stroking the massive length of his cock as he watches. “Aren’t you sweet?” he practically purrs, grinning as Charles leans down to kiss Arthur once again. “Arthur, isn’t your big brother just so good to you?”

Arthur smiles up at Charles, soft and vulnerable, as Charles cleans him up, running the cloth over his messy skin. He can spot Max out of the corner of his eye, lazily stroking his cock to the affection he receives from his brother, and it nearly makes Arthur dizzy to think about. “I love you too, Charlie,” he whispers, and his gaze is so horribly lovesick as he does. He turns his head to Max, a smile crossing his face. “Of course, Max, he’s so sweet to me,” he says. “Always takes care of me like this. He’s the perfect big brother.”

Max hums approvingly, still keeping that same slow, lazy pace on his cock. He’s simply enjoying himself, now, and he’s glad that Charles and Arthur seem to be as well. “I bet it’s been that way since you two were kids, huh?” he asks, his gaze flitting down to Arthur’s fucked-out hole. “Oh, Charles, you missed a spot. Clean him up properly like the good big brother you are.”

Charles glances over at Max in surprise, unsure of what he means, but it suddenly clicks in his head and his cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of pink. He nods, eager to please Max and hear more of his praise, and shuffles down on the bed so he can lap up the mixture of his and Max’s come right from his baby brother’s pretty little hole. He’s tentative at first, the knowledge of Max watching him making him blush, but the taste of all three of them together spurs Charles on.

Arthur whimpers weakly once he feels Charles’ tongue at his hole, warm and wet and soft as he licks up the mess. He resists the urge to bring his thighs together around Charles’ head, flushing a pretty pink with embarrassment at just how dirty this feels. “Charlie,” he can’t help but whine, reaching down to grab at Charles’ hair. Everything feels so warm and with Max watching, Arthur thinks he might die at how good it is.

Max pants softly, his hand quickening on his cock. God, he always swears this can’t get any hotter and then it does. The Leclerc brothers are obviously very receptive to his orders and Max loves it. “You have such a pretty mouth on you, Arthur,” Max says, voice hushed and somewhat strained as he strokes himself, using his own pre-come as slick. “Tell Charles how much you love it, how good it feels, yeah?”

Charles hums against Arthur’s skin, greedily lapping up everything his tongue can reach before pushing it into Arthur’s tight little hole as far as it’ll go, eating him out like his life depends on it. He loves how his baby brother whines for him, all the little sounds he makes; Charles thinks he’d do anything to hear more of them. He wants to say something, tell Arthur how good he is, that he loves him, but for now Charles sticks to cleaning him up, face feeling hot under Max’s watchful eye.

Arthur moans as Charles eats him out, his tongue pushing into his fucked-out hole, nearly fucking him with it. Feeling both Charles’ tongue and the come inside him drives him insane. “Fuck, your tongue feels so good,” he whines, letting himself squeeze at the sides of Charles’ head with his thighs. “So good to me, love it so much . . .”

Max groans out loud, beyond happy with the show he’s having presented to him. “That’s it,” he praises, his voice strained as he roughly strokes himself. He doesn’t exactly want to come again, but he isn’t sure when—or if—he’s ever going to see this sight again, and so he wants to make the most of it. “Kiss him, Charles. I want him to taste all three of us.”

Charles moans against Arthur’s skin at the idea of it. It’s so fucking dirty and he knows it, but how can he resist? Arthur’s been so good for him, and Max . . . well, Charles can’t exactly resist Max’s orders. He finishes the job with one last swipe of his hot tongue across Arthur’s hole before shifting up on the bed to kiss him, tongue eagerly pressing against his baby brother’s and sharing the taste of them all. He loves it.

The sight of Charles leaning down to kiss Arthur, slick and drooly, their mouths sliding together like they’re meant to, suddenly gets Max hot and desperate to come. He grunts, his hand quickening on his cock before he comes without warning, his cockhead drooling ropes of it over his own fist. He pants with the harshness of his second orgasm, all quick and dirty, and breathes, “Fuck. You two look so good like that.”

Immediately, Charles and Arthur break apart, and they’re both on Max in an instant, almost fighting each other to clean up his mess. Their mouths look nearly identical as they trail their lips and tongues over Max’s spent cock, his lower stomach, and his fingers, greedily licking up everything they can reach.

“You two might kill me one day,” Max sighs once the two brothers pull away, tongues darting out to lick their lips. They both look so pretty like this, all wrecked and flushed and happy. While Max catches his breath, a smile can’t help but work its way onto his face; despite his overstimulation and exhaustion, he’ll never get enough of this sight, seeing these two gorgeous brothers in a way no one else gets to see them. “Charles, is your shower big enough for three?”

Charles and Arthur Leclerc have made countless pacts over the years, like most brothers do. From simple truces during games of tag with other children in the neighbourhood, bonded by a simple handshake, to more meaningful ones, namely an agreement never to keep secrets from one another—they pinky-promised for that one—their lives have been full of easy arrangements to stick by each other's side at all costs.

But one pact undoubtedly sticks out from the rest.

On the night before Arthur’s eighteenth birthday, Charles goes to bed early, right after his mother does. He puts on his bedclothes and slides under the sheets and stares at the clock on his phone, his mind racing. He hasn’t forgotten what Arthur wants for his gift. Time seems to creep by increasingly slowly as the clock approaches midnight, as if the very world knows the extent of the sin Charles knows he’ll commit.

When the clock strikes midnight, Charles’ phone buzzes in his hands. Right. The alarm. Not that he would have forgotten anyway. He shuts off the lights, sets his phone onto the nightstand, and pulls the sheets around himself, feigning sleep despite the impatience bubbling up inside him. He’s sprawled in bed, half of his face pressed into the plush pillow, and he knows all too well what’s coming when he hears the door open and close, followed by Arthur’s soft breathing from across the room. Then Arthur’s gently shaking him, and his mouth is by his ear, whispering, “It’s my birthday, Charlie, don’t tell me you forgot . . .”

Charles pretends not to hear, but he smiles, thankful that he's facing away from Arthur. He feels Arthur climb on top of him—his brother has packed on some considerable muscle as of late, all lean and firm where he’s pressed against him—and he doesn’t miss the way Arthur ruts against his thigh, panting hot and wet against the shell of Charles’ ear. “You promised,” Arthur whispers, and a whine is wrenched from his throat—soft and choked. Charles itches to touch him. He did promise, after all, and he’s been waiting just as long as Arthur has.

“I’m eighteen now, Charles, please,” Arthur goes on, letting a half-whine, half-sob fall from his mouth. Even in the darkness, he swears he sees a hint of a smile on his big brother’s face—he’s fucking teasing him. On purpose. “Haven’t I been good?”

At the end of the day, Charles is no better than his darkest, most primal urges; when Arthur whines for it, he can't hold back anymore. He shifts to roll onto his back, lifting Arthur off his thigh just long enough to do so, and lets Arthur straddle his lap over the sheets. There are still way too many layers of fabric between them, he thinks, and they both know it. Arthur’s face is barely visible, but if Charles turned on the lights he’d probably see Arthur flushed the prettiest shade of pink, just how he likes it.

Charles can’t put into words how long he’s been thinking about this. Arthur’s pushed his luck in the past, sure—they’ve shared beds on family vacations before, and Charles has woken up to Arthur inadvertently grinding up against the backs of his thighs—but this, his unabashed neediness, is like nothing Charles has seen before, and he thinks he might go crazy. Never had he expected his baby brother to be such a whore.

“You've been so good, petit,” Charles says, his voice hushed. He sits up in bed, hands settling on Arthur’s hips, and kisses him, long and languid. Arthur's lips immediately part, eager and wanting, and Charles wastes no time in delving his tongue into Arthur’s mouth, tasting him properly. When he pulls away, their lips are spit-soaked and reddened. “Do you have a specific gift in mind, or will you let me decide?”

“Oh,” Arthur breathes, his head already swimming from the kiss. Charles had kissed him so reverently, holds him like he's something precious, like he's made of gold. And Charles’ praise sets fire to Arthur's nerves, makes him want to kneel at Charles’ feet and beg for more of it until he loses his voice. Worst of all, it makes him extremely, irrevocably hard; even in the darkness, when he looks down towards where his thighs are parted across Charles’ lap, he sees the rather obscene tent in his thin pajama bottoms.

He has a choice, he realises. Charles owes him a gift. Arthur’s breath hitches at the thought of it, asking Charles to help him act out one of the fantasies he’s held for so many years, ever since Arthur learned how to get his hand around himself and make himself come. Should he push back the sheets and take Charles’ cock out like this, ride him until he can’t walk? Should he bend over the side of the bed, let Charles fuck him from behind? Or should he lay himself out on his back so Charles can look at him while he’s being fucked?

The latter sounds nice.

“Like this, please,” Arthur whispers, scrambling to lay out on his back, dirty blond hair splaying delightfully across the crisp white sheets. Charles is on him in an instant. “Want you inside me.”

Charles kneels between Arthur’s parted thighs, gazing down at his baby brother’s needy face in the darkness. “I’ll fuck you, petit, but you have to promise to be quiet. We don’t want Maman to hear, do we?” He brushes a stray strand of hair from Arthur’s face and leans down to kiss him again, slow and soft. Arthur whines quietly into it, impatience rising up within him.

“I can be quiet,” Arthur promises once Charles pulls away, smiling. “No one will know. It’s our secret.”

Satisfied, Charles runs his hands up underneath Arthur’s sleep shirt for a moment before shifting to tug it over his head. Arthur eagerly helps him along, tossing his shirt to the side before making quick work of his pajama bottoms. He hadn’t worn any underwear tonight—and that decision was made entirely on purpose. “Not even underwear,” Charles observes, clicking his tongue. It makes Arthur flush with embarrassment, his twitching, needy cock now exposed to the open air. He really is a whore.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur immediately apologises, flushing hot with embarrassment, his heart thrashing in his chest. “I’ve just been thinking about this for so long, and—”

“Thinking about what?” Charles presses, wrapping one hand around Arthur’s cock and stroking him dry. He thumbs across the tip, smearing pre-come, and for a moment he brings his hand up to Arthur’s mouth to press the pad of his thumb onto his tongue. “Being fucked by your big brother? Hmm? You know normal people don’t think about that, right?”

“Yes,” Arthur says desperately, his words muffled by Charles’ thumb in his mouth. He dutifully licks off his own mess, tasting the salty tang of himself on his tongue. “I know, I’m sorry, but I—fuck, Charlie, please, I need—”

Charles withdraws his thumb and presses it instead to Arthur’s plush pink lips, shushing him gently. Instead, he reaches over to his nightstand where he’d carefully stashed a bottle of lube, knowing just what was to happen tonight. He’s been prepared for weeks.

Charles soaks three of his fingers in lube, then teases his index between Arthur’s cheeks, the tip just easing into his hole. He’s tight and hot like this, the silky walls parting as Arthur tries to relax. “You need this so bad, don’t you?” Charles whispers, leaning down to suck a mark into the tender underside of Arthur’s jaw. It’ll make an ugly bruise in the morning—perfect for Arthur’s eighteenth birthday photos. “Need me to fuck you like it’s your first time?”

Arthur sucks in a sharp breath. He feels his brother everywhere—lips on his neck, body pressed against his, finger pressing in to stretch out his hole. It’s so much, and so perfect. “It is my first time,” he admits, voice a soft whisper as Charles buries his first finger in him up to the knuckle. “Saved myself for you.”

The confession should make Charles stop, or at least hesitate—it would be the right thing to do. He does neither of those things. He instead brings a second finger up to press inside Arthur alongside the first, spreading apart to ease his tight little hole open. “You said no to all your little girlfriends, just so you could have this?” he asks, as taunting as he can be in a whisper.

“Yes,” Arthur breathes easily, reaching up to slide his fingers into Charles’ hair. He feels like he’s being stretched open wide, and it takes everything in him not to whine loud when Charles adds a third finger. “Didn’t want them. Want this. Want you.” Charles’ fingers curl inside him, stroking along his walls until he nudges into a spot that has Arthur squirming, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as he pants for more.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?” Charles teases. He’ll admit it—he’s so fucking hard in his own pajama bottoms now, can’t stop thinking about sinking his cock into his baby brother’s virgin hole and having his way with him. What better person to take your virginity than your own flesh and blood? “Oh, that's my baby. You want me to fuck you now?”

Arthur wants to whine, wants to moan like the unabashed little whore he is, but he can’t out of fear of being discovered. He has to bite his lip and hope his face gives away just how much he loves this. “Oh, please, Charlie, please,” he begs, looking down to see just how hard he is, his cock flushed and leaking pre-come against his stomach. “Fuck me, please. Wanna be your baby forever.”

God, Charles didn’t think he’d ever hear such filthy fucking words from his own brother. He’s so beautiful like this, all laid out and panting and desperate and illuminated by the moonlight streaming into Charles’ childhood bedroom window. To think he could have Arthur like this forever, all dumb and easy and eager to please sends Charles’ mind into a frenzy, his cock twitching once again in unfettered interest.

He pulls his fingers from Arthur’s needy hole, resolutely ignoring the whine his brother makes at being empty, and instead makes quick work of his own pajama pants. Charles tosses them to the side, along with his boxer briefs, and generously coats his cock in lube, hissing at the cold feeling against his sensitive skin. And finally, as if all his life’s events have culminated in this very moment, Charles shifts forward on his knees to fit his enormous cockhead against the tight furl of Arthur’s hole.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathes, even though it’s not in yet. The mere hot pressure of his brother’s cock against his hole is almost too much to bear. He stretches his arms out to the sides, grabbing at the sheets, before he brings his thighs together to close around Charles’ hips, urging him closer. “Please,” he begs, panting. “I need it.”

Charles tries to steel himself for what he’s about to do. He’s about to take his baby brother’s virginity, steal his innocence away from him—not that Charles thinks he had any in the first place with the way he’s talking. Arthur wants this, Charles tells himself; deep down he’s known it since Arthur was thirteen and looking at him like a piece of meat, but there was always more than that: there’s the time they were play-fighting and Arthur ended up pinned to the ground with an obvious hard-on, the time he was mumbling Charles’ name in his sleep, rocking against the sheets, and of course the time Charles woke up in the hotel to Arthur pressed against him, rutting up against the backs of his thighs. There have always been signs.

The thought makes him snap, slipping the head of his cock just inside Arthur’s tight little hole and causing them both to gasp in unison. No going back now. Arthur presses his heels to Charles’ lower back—still covered by his tattered sleep shirt—and forces him deeper, panting to make himself relax despite the pleasure-pain shooting up his spine. It’s so much and not enough at the same time; soon Arthur lets go of the sheets to reach for Charles instead, sliding his fingers into his brother’s hair like that’s where they’re meant to be. “Kiss me while you fuck me,” he begs, and it dissolves into a whine as Charles presses deeper.

Charles relents, forever the dutiful big brother, leaning down to kiss Arthur while he sinks his cock, inch by inch, into his wanting hole. Arthur meets him open-mouthed and needy, panting into the kiss and moaning softly when Charles’ tongue presses against his. He wonders how far he can push his luck, the sounds he can make before Charles does something about it.

Arthur’s left panting and so deliciously full when Charles finally bottoms out inside him. His cock is so big Arthur thinks he’s nearly being split open, but at the same time he doesn’t think he’s felt anything better in his entire life. “Move,” he breathes, holding Charles’ face between his hands and taking a good look at him, gaze raking greedily over how pretty Charles is, face washed grey in the moonlight.

Charles pants just as hard, bottom lip caught firmly between his teeth as he adjusts to the sweet tight heat of his little brother. Although he’s careful not to hurt Arthur, Charles simply can’t hold back anymore; his hips move of their own accord, pulling back just a little before pushing easily back in, making Arthur gasp, one of his hands flying to grab at Charles’ hair again. God, it’s too fucking good—Charles can’t help himself from chasing out more of the delicious vice grip around his cock, starting a slow yet steady rhythm and delighting in Arthur’s impossibly soft whines when he does. “You like that?” he asks in a rushed whisper, even though he knows the answer.

“Fuck, Charles,” Arthur says in that same breathy whisper, pressing his heels firmly into Charles’ back to urge him along. “So good. So big. I love it.”

The whole situation should make Charles sick to his stomach. Here he is, fucking his little brother, taking his virginity, treating him as if he’s just another dainty girl he met at a party. Arthur’s begging for it, telling him how much he loves it, and Charles should feel dirty for it all. But he doesn’t—how could he, when Arthur feels so delightful around his cock, so slick and warm and tight, and he’s so easy and wanting, pretty lips parted on a silent moan? Charles leans down to bring their mouths together once more, and it’s just as messy as before, the kiss more open-mouthed panting than proper kissing. He still accepts a few of Arthur’s sounds into his mouth, still soft enough to avoid being heard by their mother down the hall.

Arthur twists away from the kiss, letting Charles’ mouth drop to the crook of his neck. Charles obliges him, sucking a bruise into the soft skin of Arthur’s neck, and Arthur laughs a little, fingers still sliding through Charles’ hair. “Please, more,” he begs, shifting his hips in the direction of Charles’ cock—it’s obvious he’s getting impatient. “I can take it, I promise.”

Charles doesn’t wait to be told twice. He moves his hands to Arthur’s thighs and uses his hold on him to tilt his body up just enough to fuck into him at a better angle. Like this, Charles’ cockhead nudges up into Arthur’s prostate, wonderfully perfect, and the sudden onslaught of pleasure makes Arthur cry out in surprise, much too loud for the silent house. Immediately, Charles’ heart drops. “Fuck,” he whispers, slowing his thrusts momentarily, “you want Maman to hear?” He brings one hand to cover Arthur’s mouth, effectively silencing any further noises.

Arthur shakes his head, obedient from behind Charles’ hand, and he can’t help but smile against his palm when Charles fucks into him harder in return. Oh, it’s perfect. Charles’ grip on his waist is surely firm enough to bruise, and the thought of waking up tomorrow, going to shower and looking in the mirror only to see his big brother’s marks all over him drives Arthur’s mind wild. He wants to moan—he wants to moan so badly—so he does, and it’s muffled by Charles’ hand as he’s fucked beyond his wildest dreams.

“Fuck, you feel so good, petit,” Charles whispers, rushed between harsh breaths. To be quite frank, he’d be surprised if they got away with this all; the sounds are downright obscene in the dark room and Arthur’s own noises certainly leave very little up to the imagination, but Charles doesn’t care. He’s laser-focused on how gorgeous Arthur is underneath him, all laid out and pretty, his flushed little cock bouncing against his slim stomach with each thrust. Even under the dim moonlight, Charles can see the way he’s leaking, too, pre-come running down the length of his cock. Arthur’s not going to last much longer.

Arthur mewls at the praise, his head going fuzzy with it as Charles fucks him hard. He’s been waiting for this, he realises, for years—this moment makes all the frustrated nights getting himself off alone worth it. But with every push of Charles’ cock into his hole, every nudge of the head up against his prostate, Arthur draws closer and closer to his orgasm. He wants to get a hand around himself, reach between their bodies to seek out that quick and dirty relief, but he knows better than that. He wants better than that. He’ll come untouched; he’ll come right on his brother’s cock.

He doesn’t even have time to get a word out before he’s coming, the high crashing over him like a wave. Arthur comes all over his own stomach, his cockhead drooling ropes of it over his wonderfully golden skin, and moans against Charles’ hand, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. He doesn’t think he’s come that hard in his life, even compared to the time he got himself off by grinding against the backs of Charles’ thighs in the hotel bed. The guilt that time overpowered the pleasure, but here, when Charles is just as wanting as he is, Arthur lets himself indulge. He trembles as Charles fucks him through his orgasm, unrelenting and decisive.

When Arthur comes, Charles isn’t too far behind. As he watches his little brother come undone underneath him, getting himself all messy, Charles pants at the delicious drag of his insides along his sensitive cock. He recalls how Arthur’s been looking at him for the past five years at least—always desperate and needy—and the thought of having him like this forever is all Charles needs to come hard, filling Arthur’s tight little hole with it. Ignoring the way Arthur squirms below him, sensitive from overstimulation, Charles fucks it into him with a few slow strokes before slowing to a stop and peeling his hand away from Arthur’s mouth.

“Charles,” Arthur breathes, grinning brighter than the sun itself despite the exhaustion taking root in his bones, “please don’t say that’s all.” He’s pushing his luck here and he knows it, but it is his eighteenth birthday and he thinks he deserves the crème de la crème.

Charles slowly pulls out of him, wincing at the pleasure-pain flashing through him in an instant, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “You want more?” he asks, gesturing to Arthur’s cock, which rests soft against his stomach. “You can go again?”

“I’ll make it so I can go again,” Arthur insists, climbing up to push Charles into the bed now, switching their positions. He straddles Charles’ lap, just like before, and marvels at the sight below him. Charles looks ethereal like this, with his hair all messy and cheeks flushed and skin damp with sweat. The thought of being fucked all over again makes Arthur’s cock twitch and start to perk up again with undisguised interest.

As he’s thinking, studying, Arthur’s struck with a brilliant idea.

He turns his head, gaze shifting over to the glass door in the room, covered with sheer curtains. “What about out there?” he teases, palms sliding up over Charles’ chest, the pads of his fingers rubbing roughly across Charles’ nipples.

Charles is just settling into absently running one finger through the mess of come on Arthur’s stomach when the suggestion sinks in. “The balcony?” he clarifies, rather struck by Arthur’s boldness. “You want me to—”

“Fuck me on the balcony, yes, please,” Arthur finishes for him, dragging out the last word as if he’s just as much the same whiny child from years ago. Maybe he is, for Charles. “I’ll lean against the railing. We can be as loud as we want. And it’s dark enough that no one will see us.” His eyes glint with mischief, the thrill of the idea going straight to his cock. “Please? It’s my gift, Charlie, you promised.”

Charles gathers some of the come on two of his fingers and holds them casually up to Arthur’s lips. Arthur takes them into his mouth without a second thought, eager to lick up his own mess, tongue dipping and teasing between Charles’ fingers. “I guess it is your gift, petit,” Charles says, and he really thinks about it. Arthur makes a good argument—it’s dark enough that no one would see them, and the prospect of hearing Arthur’s moans out loud makes Charles’ cock twitch to attention, blood rushing south so fast it nearly makes Charles’ head spin.

Arthur leans down to kiss Charles in earnest, sharing his come between them. He sighs when Charles’ tongue swipes into his mouth, pressing against his like it was always meant to be there. He’s delighted that Charles is even considering it; he wants nothing more right now than to be bent over in front of the whole of Monaco and fucked stupid by his older brother, the man he’s looked up to and practically worshipped for most of his life.

“Okay,” Charles whispers once Arthur parts from him to breathe, his lips red and puffy. “Let’s do it, you brat. I can’t believe this.” He nudges at Arthur’s creamy bare thighs, and Arthur happily obeys, climbing down off the bed to head for the balcony door on shaking legs. He can hardly hold himself up as is, and he can feel Charles’ come begin to run down the insides of his thighs, but he’s solely focused on the long-held fantasy that’s about to unfold.

Charles follows, lube in hand, and together they quietly crack open the door to the balcony and creep outside. Arthur’s fully naked, and Charles only has his sleep shirt on, but the night air is pleasantly warm and there doesn’t even seem to be a breeze. Perfect. He can’t deny how fucking hard he is again already, simply at the idea of fucking Arthur in front of what has to be the whole city. If people saw, they would talk, and both Charles’ and Arthur’s lives would be over. But if they stay hidden enough . . .

Arthur pretends to stretch, taking a deep breath of the warm night air, and leans forward against the railing, supporting himself on his forearms. He arches his back just slightly, pushes his pert little ass out in Charles’ direction, and even sneaks a bold glance back towards where Charles stands. “Please, oh please,” he begs, and Charles wilfully ignores the way his cock twitches at his brother’s whines now that they’re out loud. “I want the neighbours to hate us.”

The thought of the neighbours hearing them makes possessiveness flash through Charles in an instant and he’s moving before his brain can process it. He coats his cock in lube once more—already stiff and desperate despite having just come—and he presses himself up against Arthur’s back, easing his cock between his cheeks. It’s much easier, like this; Charles uses the creampie he’d fucked into Arthur as extra slick to help him along, and he has to bite down hard on his bottom lip when he slips the head of his cock right back into Arthur’s hole. Charles is so much more sensitive this time around and it makes his breath hitch as he sinks his cock into Arthur, bottoming out within moments. He could get used to this.

“Fuck, so big, so big,” Arthur whines, panting as he shifts his hips to get comfortable. His legs already shake with the effort of holding himself up, but soon enough Charles’ arms encircle his waist and suddenly it’s not so bad. “I’ll never get used to it, God, it’s so good.” He’s not sure how, but when Charles starts fucking into him again, from behind this time, it feels even more heavenly than before. Maybe it’s the freedom of being outside, feeling like all eyes are on him being fucked by his big brother, or maybe it’s simply because he’s come once already, but Arthur feels like he could come in an instant. Charles’ cock is downright perfect; it nestles into Arthur’s tight little hole like it belongs there and fills him up so deliciously. If this is hell, Arthur’s not sure if he’s afraid to sin at all.

“Imagine if people saw us,” Charles goads, pressing kisses into the crook of Arthur’s neck as he fucks him, the obscene slap of their skin together seeming to echo in the small alcove of their balcony. “What they’d say. What they’d think.”

Arthur moans at the idea, tilting his head to the side to allow Charles more room. Charles’ cockhead just misses his prostate with each thrust and it makes Arthur groan in frustration, squirming for a better angle. “Worth it, so worth it,” he pants. “Wanted this for so long, oh, please more, please please please.” His grip nearly falters on the railing when Charles finally fucks up into his prostate, sending a wave of delicious shivery pleasure up his spine. Like this, he won’t be able to last long at all.

Charles’ hold tightens on Arthur’s waist as he fucks into him harder, chasing his own orgasm now. “I should make you suck me off in the paddock,” he goes on, his mind presenting the vision for him: Arthur on his knees right in his big brother’s driver’s room, eyes all pleading and tongue stuck out as far as it’ll go—perfect for Charles to come onto. “Or maybe right before one of your test drives. I want you to go out there and think about what you were doing before it.”

Arthur whimpers this time, tears of frustration springing into his eyes. He needs to come now. “I’ll do whatever,” he insists, panting. He’d scream it to the city if he had to. “I’m your baby, Charlie, oh please, I’m so close . . .”

“My pretty baby,” Charles murmurs against Arthur’s neck, sliding one hand from Arthur’s waist down to wrap around his cock. He jerks him off nearly dry, only using Arthur’s pre-come as slick, and it only takes a few quick strokes of his hand to make Arthur come hard, squirming in his grasp as his cock drools a few pathetic ropes of come over Charles’ fist.

Arthur tilts his head back and it takes everything in him to stay standing while he comes, shaking in Charles’ hold as he does. Charles continues to fuck into him incessantly and he whines long and high at the overstimulation, trying to shift away from it despite the tears of pleasure still pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Oh, too much, too much,” he babbles, chest heaving as his body processes it all.

As much as Charles wants to finish inside Arthur’s tight hole for a second time, he recognises his baby brother’s limits and decides to pull out. Just as Arthur begins to turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Charles strokes himself to completion—once, twice, thrice and he’s coming all over Arthur’s bare back, his come stringing together the moles dotting along his brother’s pretty pale skin. Fuck, it’s so much. It takes Charles a few long moments to recover from his high, his breath coming fast as he basks in the afterglow of fucking Arthur right here in the open.

Still shaky and exhausted himself, Arthur turns around and loops his arms around Charles’ neck, tugging him closer and pursing his lips for a kiss. Charles obliges him—how could he not?—and this time it’s softer and slower, their lips moving together as if they’ve both finally come home. “Thank you,” Arthur whispers once pulling away, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That was the best birthday gift I could have ever asked for.”

“Yeah?” Charles teases, absentmindedly running his index finger through one of the streaks of come on Arthur’s back. He’s so fucking messy. “Well, your birthday isn’t the only occasion worth celebrating.”

Arthur’s heart soars. Charles is open to doing this again? It hardly feels real. He grabs at Charles’ wrist and licks off the come from his finger, letting the taste of his brother explode across his tongue. “I hope you know,” he says, letting Charles’ spit-slick finger drop from his mouth, “that I am going to go out and buy one of those calendars with a holiday for every day of the year. We’ll always have something worth celebrating.”

Charles pretends to groan, but the fond, exasperated smile that crosses his face is unmistakable. “You are going to kill me,” he says as he wraps one arm around Arthur’s shoulders and guides him back towards the door of the balcony. “And we still have over twenty-two hours of your birthday to do whatever we want.”