#macrocest

It was a pair of boxer briefs, green with a grey waistband, and definitely not Sirius’.

“Regulus!” Sirius called, not wanting to get out of bed, and knowing his younger brother was still awake in his own bedroom. “Reggie, come here!”

“What?” Regulus asked as he stepped into the doorway, expression and tone equally bored. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of pajama pants, a book in his hand with his index finger squished between the pages to hold his place.

“Why are your underwear in here?” Sirius asked, holding up the offending article of clothing to show Regulus. There was a damp spot at the front, dark and stiffening, as if Regulus’ cock had been leaking at the tip before he finally kicked them off, like maybe… “Did you fuck someone in my bed?”

Sirius willed his heart rate not to spike at the visual, silently begging his own dick not to grow hard at the thought of his brother writhing around in the exact spot he was currently laying in.

A blush crept up Regulus’ cheeks at the accusation, but he shook his head all the same. “No, Sirius,” he said, tone suddenly patronizing. “I didn’t fuck someone in your bed.”

Sirius looked at the underwear in his hand, thought about the way they had so clearly been pushed off under the covers in a fit of rushed desperation, and wondered if Regulus had left them for Sirius to find, or if he had simply forgotten them.

“Did you—” Sirius felt his voice break and paused to take a deep breath to steel himself. “Did you jerk off in my bed, Reggie?”

Regulus let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, looking away from Sirius’ gaze. “Of course not, Sirius.” The words were soft, devoid of emotion, and clearly a lie. Regulus wasn’t trying very hard to hide the truth of what he had done.

“Why in my bed?”

“It smells like you,” Regulus replied, his blush spreading further down his face and across his bare chest, but there had been no hesitation in the words.

Oh fuck.

Sirius clenched his eyes shut and dragged in another deep breath. His heart was racing, even as he felt all of his blood rush to his cock at the insinuation.

“You think about me while you touch yourself?” Sirius asked, opening his eyes to look back up at Regulus. He knew his own pupils would be blown wide, lust-crazed and desperate, but it was Regulus that had started this. It was Regulus’ desperation that had led Sirius to realize the thrumming need under the surface of his skin, and Sirius knew Regulus wouldn’t reject him.

Regulus sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded his head. “I can only come when I’m in your bed.”

Regulus could only finish when he felt close to Sirius, when he was surrounded by his scent and his belongings? What would Regulus’ orgasm be like if he came with Sirius in the bed with him?

“Show me,” Sirius said, tossing the underwear to the side and scooting over to make room for his brother. “I want to see your pretty face when you come on my sheets.”

Regulus’ breath audibly hitched. He tossed his book onto Sirius’ dresser before stepping further into the room, all bashfulness just as forgotten as the page he had been reading.

Regulus grinned, a sultry, sexy thing, before sliding his pajama pants down his legs and kicking them off to the side.

June 28, 2028. The day life as the Walker boys knew it came to a violent, bloodied end.

Hesh doesn't think he'll ever forget the horror of watching helplessly as his brother and father were shot right in front of him, listening to his father comforting Logan desperately before Rorke executed him, boot to his neck and gun to his head. The resulting hollowed emptiness that dragged all of Hesh's willpower to the sea floor.

Elias was dead. The leader of the Ghosts, their commanding officer, their father was dead. All Hesh and Logan had was each other.

In the days that followed, the remaining Ghosts were brought to the USS Liberator for treatment and to prepare their next attack. Outside of appointments with medical, Hesh didn't let Logan leave his side. They remained in their shared bunk, holed up together, survivor's guilt weighing over them like a stormcloud.

Hesh changed Logan's bandages, pressing kisses over the blood soaked fabric like how their parents had done when they were little (so long ago). They felt the sway of the ship move their blood within their bodies as they cradled each other, Hesh needing to feel Logan being alive and Logan needing to be cared for.

All the while, the chaos of the war raged on. They had three days left before they would resume their work in the field. Four precious days to mourn their missing lover and return to operational capacity. It was in the witching hour of the fourth day on the Liberator that Hesh woke Logan up in a near feverish state.

The building sense of urgency he'd felt since Elias' denied burial had come to a head in his dream. Flashes of his father's wedding ring as he cupped their faces, the intense pride with which he regarded them as he gave them orders, the sensation of being held and owned and loved in a way only a father could – all gone. Forever.

Elias charged Hesh with being responsible for Logan and the household when he's not around. He will never be back, so now Hesh needs to act. He needs to step into what Elias left behind.

His son, his wife, his Logan.

Hesh presses kisses along Logan's cheek and jawline, sliding his leg between Logan's thighs. Logan's barely awake, and Hesh can't blame him – it is early. But this is important.

He slides his hands along Logan's chest, blissfully free of his binder, save for the bandages. He works his brother's shirt up, moving his mouth down to kiss over the soft curves of his chest, brushing his facial hair against Logan's nipples. That wakes Logan up more, who comes to with a soft, hoarse groan.

A noise of confusion thrums in his throat, and Hesh's body responds with equal parts grief and need.

"Sorry, Lo," he whispers, lips brushing soft, freckled skin. "I need you, baby. Gotta make you feel good."

The sleepy realization is enough to have Logan stretching and nodding, moving his hands down to push at his boxers. Together they undress each other, returning to one another with more and more desperate kisses. Hesh feels the moment it sinks in that this will be their first time without Dad, permanently. Tears well in his eyes, and Logan, despite tearing up too, only pulls him down closer, hooking a leg around his waist.

"Miss him," Hesh mumbles, flexing his hips to grind against Logan's downy soft hair, his cock getting heavier with the press of his brother's body against him.

"Miss him too," Logan whispers, voice strained and wavering, but enough that Hesh can hear it.

"I gotcha, baby," Hesh continues. "Dad trained us well. You're gonna be good for me, and I'll keep you safe. Yeah?"

The words press on bruises both brothers share, bruises that Hesh had been avoiding for days, but no longer. Not when the pain threatens to keep him from being able to breathe some moments. Not when he craves his father's touch still, and he knows Logan does, if not even moreso.

Logan nods, breath hitching as he reaches down and takes Hesh's cock into his hand. He lets Hesh fuck his hand while Hesh kisses along his neck, scraping his teeth every so often. They know each other intimately; it does not take long before both are ready.

"How you want me?" Hesh asks, and Logan rolls over onto his stomach, pushing his hips up and spreading his legs to show off his drippy pussy. Hesh hisses through his teeth, a hand gripping Logan's ass cheek while his other grips the base of his cock.

"You sure that's not too much on your shoulder?" he asks, worried about the bandages.

Logan makes an impatient noise in response, snaking a hand down between his legs and parting his lips with two fingers, clenching down on nothing, letting his brother see how badly he needs him. Hesh knows; this is ripping off the bandaid as much as it is applying tape over it.

He doesn't bother with teasing Logan all that much, just strokes himself a few times with his tip against Logan's clit and entrance, before sinking in. His breathing grows labored as he buries himself into Logan's pussy, until he's flush against him. Then he lays over him, mounting him, his lips right at Logan's ear as he flexes his hips. His thrusts are short but deep, rubbing up against all of Logan's walls in the most delicious way. Logan's hoarse whimpers punctuate each thrust, so familiar and so heartbreaking at the same time.

They won't share such a thing with their father again.

As if synced in memory, Logan whispers, "H-hesh," and claws at the sheets. Immediately Hesh takes his hand, lacing their fingers together as he fucks into his brother harder. It may be audible outside the room but Hesh doesn't care.

His brother needs to be owned, and owned he will be.

"Dad trained me for you," he pants, nibbling on Logan's ear just to hear him whine. "Dad made you for me, trained me for you; he left you for me, and I'll take such good care of you. You're my wife now, baby. All mine. I got you."

Logan's heated blush grows even more intense with Hesh's words, and he's nodding along with all of them. Hesh thinks he hears a few stuttered agreements on whispered breaths, but it wouldn't matter if he didn't; Dad's word is law, even on the other side.

"Gonna kill Rorke, baby," Hesh murmurs, angling his hips to rub right up against that spot that's too much for Logan sometimes. "Gonna kill him and fuck you over his corpse. Gonna do it for Dad."

A desperate hitched mess of words, Logan trying to scramble away, but Hesh holds firm. "Gonna do it for Dad," he repeats.

"F-for Dad," Logan whines, biting into the pillow to stifle his louder moans as Hesh pauses and pushes his legs wider apart, letting him sit back and get a look at what he's done to his brother.

"Good girl, Lo," Hesh murmurs, fucking into his baby brother even harder now, thumb pressing against his puckered entrance. Logan's spare hand grips the sheets desperately, and Hesh's vision swims with tears as the mix of emotions becomes too much. He thinks he hears Logan sob, and that turns something on deep inside him.

"That's it, c'mon, take it. You can do it, pretty girl. This is why I married you, go on," he coos. Logan definitely sobs this time, but comes so hard it soaks the bunk, and drags Hesh over the edge too. His cock flexes, pumping Logan full, claiming him for himself.

They catch their breaths, Hesh leaning back down to kiss over Logan's face and gently pulling out so he can turn him over. Logan looks up at him with heartache and satisfaction in his gaze, a heady mix that Hesh is sure is mirrored in his own verdant gaze.

What if we can't do it? Logan signs.

Hesh swallows, lifts his own hands to sign back. We're gonna kill Rorke, baby. There's no other option. And we'll try to survive. For Dad.

And if we don't?

Then we join him.

Logan looks oddly at peace with this decision, and Hesh wonders if living on would be too heavy a cross to bear for Logan. Instead of digging deeper into that wound, he picks Logan up and carries him across the hall to the showers, unused this time of night. They clean each other up with soft kisses between soapy touches. Hesh coaxes a second orgasm out of Logan, and Logan does the same for Hesh, something risky but necessary for them both.

They had their pact.

Elias may have died, but that didn't take him out of their relationship. It never could. So they would do all they could, and persue Rorke's own bloody end, in the name of love. Perhaps they are too ready to give their everything, but Hesh finds it only fitting.