#stepsiblings au

You arrive home at an ungodly hour, let yourself in through the basement. You’re not expecting your step brother to be asleep on the couch. He’s supposed to be touring across the midwest with his band. Creeping past him, you make your way down the hall to the bedroom that used to be yours, pushing the door closed. You wallow, you mope. You’d been together for almost two years, and somehow thought the relationship was going further than this . You manage to get something that resembles sleep, and when you drag yourself out of the room later on in the day, Justin is still there so you didn’t imagine him.

“You look like shit.” he says and if you didn’t know any better, he almost sounds concerned. Which is valid because you guys have had that kind of relationship where you can be mean to each other, but others can’t be mean to you. It’s been that way ever since your parents got married. “No, seriously, this isn’t your normal look. You look extra shitty. What’s up?”

“Don’t you have a boyband to be touring with? Why are you even home?” it’s not your best insult, even you can admit that.

“I asked you first. Don’t be a dick.”

“If you must know, my boyfriend broke up with me.”

You almost expect him to say something mean, but he just kind of stares at you. You steal his cup of coffee and he doesn’t even notice.

“What did you do?” he asks.

“What?” You glare at him, insulted that he’d think that you’re the reason the douchebag broke up with you. “How is this automatically my fucking fault?”

He snatches his cup back, “No, you idiot, what did you do to him after he broke up with you? You just let him get away with that shit?”

Scoffing, you go in search of your own coffee, not wanting to listen to him. The rest of the house is empty and you trudge up the stairs into the kitchen. He follows you, of course. You can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face as you fill your mug and finally you snap. “What the fuck did you want me to do? Slash his tires? Write a little emo song about him?”

Justin flicks your ear and you hiss, cracking him across the knuckles with the spoon you stirred your coffee with.

“I could kick his ass for you.” he offers and you roll your eyes.

“My hero,” you mutter. “If you leave right now you could probably find him. Don’t be fucking stupid, you’re not gonna go beat him up. I’ll be fine. I just need this weekend to get the fuck over myself.”

“Look, come hang out in my room. We’ll put on some movies, order some food, get high. By the time you go back to school, you won’t even remember him.”

Seeing as how your only other options seem to be hanging out alone in the basement or sitting around to see which one of your parents will arrive home first, you agree. He puts in an order for takeout and you grab a shower because you honestly still feel disgusting after the drive home and sleeping in your clothes. By the time you emerge, the food has already arrived.

Justin puts on a couple of the Saw movies and lets you disassociate. He talks about traps he’d put your ex in, you talk about traps you’d put him in. It’s exactly what you needed. After you eat, he pulls out his weed pen. You think he’ll just pass it over to you after he takes a hit, but he doesn’t. Instead he holds it up to your mouth for you. You blink up at him, not exactly understanding the way he looks from your eyes to your mouth and back again. 

It’s nothing new, you know this. The tension between the two of you, at least over the past few years. You’ve done your best to compartmentalize it, try to keep him in a category marked no. But it’s not as easy as it was when he was just the fifteen year old shithead who moved in with you and your dad. Five years later, he’s still a shithead, but he’s also something else.

Before you know it, it’s well after midnight. You’re stoned and sleepy and you’ve devoured the leftovers. Somehow, Justin’s convinced you to just crash in his bed. You don’t argue as much as you could, slipping beneath the covers next to him. The first thing you notice is the amount of body heat that he puts off, which isn’t actually something new to you. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep together. But when he wraps himself around you, spooning up behind you, it surprises you how easily you relax back into him. 

You shift around, trying to get comfortable, unintentionally pushing back into him. One of his hands clamps down on your hip suddenly, holding you still.

“Don’t.” he hisses, backing away just a little.

“What, I’m just trying to—” you stop short when you realize he might have moved, but he didn’t move far enough, you can still feel him hard against you. “Oh.”

“Just fucking stay still, it’ll go away in a minute.”

You stare at the wall, feel Justin’s breath against the side of your face as he speaks, and you make a choice, because it’s your choice to make. You push back into him, more insistently, rubbing yourself against him. And he obviously makes his own choice too, because he doesn’t try to keep you still again. He grinds into you, heavy body pressing you a little more firmly against the mattress. Neither of you say anything, Scream playing as background noise. Your head is fuzzy, but you want this. Heat pools in your gut, and you squeeze your thighs together.

“Can I do something?” he asks in your ear.

You nod, breathing a little heavier when he moves away from you long enough to pull you onto your back. He doesn’t say anything else, just crawls between your spread thighs. His hands hook beneath the waistband of your shorts and your underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. You kick them away, and it makes you blush the way he’s staring down at you. His eyes meet yours, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face, and you nod, just once.

It’s not anything special at first, you can admit that. His mouth trails up one of your thighs, and you feel the pressure of his lip piercing. You can’t look at him yet, keeping your eyes on the screen just over his shoulder. You know the fact that you don’t feel guilty about this should be alarming to you, but it isn’t. He doesn’t touch you more than this at first, dragging his mouth back and forth, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up to him. You squirm at the feeling, hips rocking up impatiently. 

He laughs a little meanly, pulling back so that you finally have to look down at him. “Are you impatient?”

“Are you going to do something more than leave hickeys on my leg? You said you wanted to do something.”

You expect him not to know what he’s doing, most guys don’t. You think he’s going to drag it out a little longer, but then you feel his fingers dragging between your folds, hooking into you and at the same time his other hand presses down on your hip, keeping you pinned down to the mattress. It takes your body a few moments to warm up to the feeling, his fingers are thicker than your own or your ex’s.

The first drag of Justin’s tongue over your clit has you shoving your head back into the pillow and pressing your hand over your mouth. After that, he’s relentless, like a dog with a bone, and you can’t do anything but let him pin your lower half to the bed and make you take it. You grab onto his hair, unsure if you want to yank him away or yank him closer. The moan he lets out against your cunt is very telling and you grind up against his mouth as much as he’ll let you.

When you come, you have to bite the meat of your palm to keep quiet. You won’t praise him for it, instead using your foot to push at his shoulder until he pulls his fingers out of you. He’s still smug, and when you look down at him, you see him sucking his fingers clean, eyes on your face the whole time. He starts to move up your body and then drops down on the mattress beside you, shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“Can I see?” you ask, and he turns his head to look at you. “Dude, you just ate me out, the least you can do is let me see this.”

Justin shoves his shorts down and you decide not to feed into his ego and tell him he’s got a pretty nice cock. Your eyes bounce from watching him drag his hand up and down his shaft to his face, the way his eyelashes flutter. He’s still watching you. An all too loud groan escapes him and you put your hand over his mouth suddenly. His eyes widen, and you press two of your fingers against his bottom lip, Predictably, he sucks those two fingers into his mouth, his hand moving faster as he slides his tongue between your digits. You don’t touch him any more than this.

He’s whiny, and you press your fingers down on his tongue as if that would make him quieter, but it just makes it worse. He comes all over his fist right as Sidney shoots Billy in the head, the noise drowning him out.

For a minute, neither of you move. You pull your fingers away, wiping them on the front of his shirt, and then you crawl to the end of the bed to find the bottom half of your clothes.

“Where are you going?” he asks, still a little breathless.

“To bed,” you yank on your underwear and shorts, not bothering to look back at him. “Thanks.”

You leave the room and quietly make your way back down to the basement as fast as you can.

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