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"So you're still doing this shit, huh?"
His words pierce right through his chest and straight into his heart. Hiiro freezes.
None of this is new to him.
He’s thirteen; a girl who thinks he’s a boy, like his brother thinks, but he doesn’t like thinking about it that way. Aira’s a boy who thinks he’s a girl, and when they’re holding hands at school together, everything seems okay. When he doesn’t tell Nii-san about anything going on there, or inside of his head, everything seems okay, too.
It’s fine for a while, really. Getting away with wearing his brother’s clothes to school, baggy but comforting in more ways than he’s able to say, up until Rinne is pinning him up against the wall and forcefully taking it off of him. His matching blues always head straight to his developing chest. “What a fucking waste,” he always says, time and time again. He touches him there, too, squeezes him and makes him feel everything he shouldn’t be feeling, all because of Nii-san. “Looks like they aren’t gonna develop at all. Start suppressing the little you’ve got, and I’ll hurt you worse than a pair of natural tits on your chest will, Imouto.”
Nii-san takes a sip from his flask. It’s black and decorated with flames coming from the bottom. Hiiro thought it was cool before he realized how strong the stuff he kept in it was. Filled religiously at least twice a day, he always seems to get in a shot of vodka in the middle of conversation with his brother. He doesn’t like thinking about the implications of it, not when he’s always been so vehement about keeping Hiiro away from alcohol. His brother is the dictionary definition of a hypocrite, but the day he labels Rinne as anything so derogatory is the day he becomes a shell of what makes him… Himself. He won’t.
He just can’t keep gaslighting himself into pretending he doesn’t know as much as he does.
Rinne acts as if he doesn’t have access to the internet, or the ABV on the bottles he never locks up; he knows. He just—he won’t do anything about it, and maybe that's why it’s so easy for Nii-san to pretend. Hiiro’s just a kid trying to make his big brother, the only one who’s ever been there for him, proud. How ungrateful he is to have gotten such a caring and attentive big brother in place of their parents, vehement on taking Hiiro with him to start a new life; not just for Rinne, but for the both of them.
A life together, making them even more inseparable than they were before.
A life Hiiro doesn’t deserve.
"...Y-Yes. I'm—I'm sorry, Nii-san." Hiiro bows his head. "Your clothes bring me comfort."
"Bullshit. I'm not stupid, Imouto." He can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Yer little girlfriend's been cutting your hair, too? Looks a little shorter than the last time I saw you."
She did. Days ago, actually, and Hiiro is surprised his brother finally noticed. Maybe it's because he's conscious enough to keep his eyes open, yet inebriated enough to do something about how distasteful he finds the sight of his little sister returning home from school. "Y-Yes, Nii-san. I really—I really like it. I think it suits me. I'm sorry."
"Sorry ain't gonna grow your pretty hair back any quicker, and it won't get you out of those fucking clothes, either." He's leaning over as he speaks, and Hiiro can feel the drops of spit covering his face from the way Rinne is leaning in. It makes him shiver. "Be a good little girl for once and strip for me, babe. Show me what you're too pussy to show that chick of yours."
A hand caresses his chin. How terrible is it that Aira's never made him blush like his brother does? It's messed up, and even Hiiro knows it, but… The knowledge hasn't changed a thing about the way he feels—the way Rinne makes him feel. There's no boundaries between them, and Hiiro couldn't imagine living his life in any other way. He could be handcuffed to the older man, and he'd thank him. He's such a bother, after all, especially to Nii-san. Maybe that's why his attention feels so good.
He's mesmerized by the beautiful mirror he's staring into, picking out each and every subtle difference between them in the silence of the moment, before Rinne takes him by the hair and lifts him like a cat carrying its young. "O-Ouch—!" It hurts so much, too much, but only for a moment. Rinne lets him go, buries his hands beneath the stolen red hoodie, and pulls it up to expose his chest.
And then it hits him. Why he's always been so quick to change before his brother's gotten home from his job, only having run into this issue sooner. He's been binding his budding chest. Baggy clothes hide his developing breasts well enough, and they likely always will, given his frame. Hiiro doesn't care. The simple idea of someone noticing anything out of place beneath the fabric of his oversized hoodie is a lingering fear that won't go away, the sort that makes him more anxious than he's able to handle—and what a useless concern it is. All the same, he grows nauseous enough to gag if he doesn't do anything about it.
So, he has. For a while now, actually. Nii-san hasn't noticed. Nii-san was never supposed to notice. Hiiro hardly notices it anymore. The routine is so regular that he sometimes forgets he has anything resembling breasts at all.
"The fuck?" His visible confusion with his clouded-over eyes has Hiiro feeling that familiar urge to puke. "The fuck is this?"
"D-D-Duct tape. I'm—"
"I know what it is. I'm askin' you something else." Rinne narrows his weirdly beautiful eyes. It's terrifying that Hiiro can see the beauty in them, even now. "Why's it across your chest? You using it to hide your beauties, 'cause stealing from your big brother isn't enough? Nobody's gonna freak if they see a girl with tits, Imouto. They're gonna think you're some kinda monster instead if you keep tryin' to look like this."
Nothing has ever terrified him more than this. Rinne fully removes his hoodie, tosses it aside, and grabs a fistful of his binded chest. It hurts. It always does, but his brother is rougher than he could've ever anticipated when he's working the tape off of his tits. "I get it. You're a confused lesbian. Pretty fucking inevitable when you have a brother like me." Hiiro doesn't know what that means. He doesn't respond. "So look like it, instead of the shit you're doing now. Be into girls, I really don't give a fuck, but don't let yourself become a goddamn laughing stock just 'cause you finally found a way to get your brother to stop looking at you like this."
"...L-Like," Hiiro gasps. "Like what?"
He pulls it off in one go. The way Hiiro does, but worse, because he's his brother and—suddenly, he's topless, and shivering in place. "Like a thing I wanna fuck the shit out of until you bleed."
His red chest is swollen. Rinne licks his lips, grabs ahold of him with both hands, and acts like he's more of a piece of meat than he is his brother.
His brother.
"N-Nii-san… Y-You—you can't." Can't what? Touch his chest? Look at Hiiro like he wants to stick his tongue down his throat? Fuck him? "We're—"
"Related. Yeah. Hasn't bothered me before, isn't gonna start now. No way in hell am I gonna stop touching you just 'cause you think you're a boy." He couldn't be less romantic of a man if he tried, get Hiiro's clenching his thighs together like the dirty little brother he is. He can't tell if he wants to cry, or wants Rinne to just get it over with, before he starts justifying that what they have is okay. It isn't. It just—it just feels that way. Because it's him, and Rinne is perfect, and Rinne—is perfect for Hiiro.
He grabs him by the waist, squeezes his ass with his jeans already falling off of him, and takes him to the room Hiiro sleeps beside his brother each and every night. For the first time, it's his brother's decision to slam him down against the pillows that stink like him, and the booze he drinks. "If you had a dick instead of a pussy? I'd still fuck you. I'd just tear your asshole apart instead; nothing's gonna change what you are to me."
He can’t, he can’t, he can’t— just like Hiiro can’t go back on how he feels, who he is, and yet…
His eyes are staring right into his soul. Rinne knows him better than he knows himself. Hiiro is finding it harder and harder to breathe. He’s naked below his brother, and for the first time in his life…
He finally feels like a girl. That’s what he is, isn’t he? A girl. A little sister, an Imouto, available to Rinne whenever he pleases. And he does, he really, really does, even when Hiiro doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve this sort of a doting brother, no matter how much of a deadbeat he is in reality. He’s too perfect in Hiiro’s eyes.
“Ha. Nothin’ to say to that, kid?” Rinne tilts his head. Kneeling in between his legs, Hiiro should feel afraid. He knows what’s coming, but he could run if he wanted to. He does want to, and that’s the issue. He’s already done enough to piss Nii-san off. He can’t just… “You wanna leave, huh? Leave your ‘Nii-san’ and close your legs so he won’t fuck you? Get you pregnant just to teach you a damn lesson?”
"N-Nii-san, I-I…" He doesn't want that, he doesn't. He'll die, and then his whole life would be over! He's thirteen, he's just a kid—a confused, idiot kid who keeps dragging his brother along into everything he's doing wrong. Rinne deserves better, a little sister that will stay that way, and he isn't getting it with Hiiro. Nii-san should hate him, yet he's taking in the sight of his naked body, stolen boxers covering his thighs with a prominent wetness between his legs. "Nii-san."
"Tell me no. I know you, Imouto." He's clenching his teeth behind those handsome lips of his. Hiiro could never grow up to look as effortlessly beautiful as his brother does, or even how he looked as a child Hiiro's age… "Fucking do it before I make you." A hand parts his thighs, and fingers slide directly against his cunt. He's clothed, but leaking through the fabric.
"N-No…" There's tears in his eyes, all from being honest. It's not like Nii-san doesn't know what he wants, or what he doesn't. This won't be a surprise to him. "P-Please, Nii-san, stop… I-It isn't right for us to do this together…!!"
"Your body says otherwise. Not that I don't love you crying that out, but… Fuck. You're a guilty little girl, huh?" Rinne spreads Hiiro’s labia hard enough to hurt, touching at his clit so forcefully that Hiiro audibly yelps. "So fuckin' guilty. Telling me no, just because you think you gotta. Want it now or not, I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you, and you'll beg me for more when I'm finished. Nothing like putting an ungrateful brat in her place."
His words didn't mean anything at all. A girl, a girl, a girl, that's all he feels like when Rinne looks at him, wanting to devour every inch of his pretty freckled skin.
“Please,” Hiiro whines, though he doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. For Rinne to stop? For him to continue? Or maybe just… To make him normal again? To turn him into the perfect little sister he was always meant to be for the one forcing down his too-big boxers? “Nii-san…”
“I’ll make it good. You’ll get fucked after me and hate it. You’ll miss your brother’s cock.” They’re down his thighs, and forced off of his dangling foot. Rinne removes his shirt just to make his little brother drool, and throws it behind him. He doesn’t offer the same sort of effort into removing his pants as he did Hiiro’s; instead, he pulls them down, and keeps them right where they are. “Miss my fingers, too. Scream at me to stop all you want, but you love seein’ me shirtless. Dirty fucking kid.”
He doesn’t know if his words or his actions hurt more. He’s right about one thing, that Hiiro is one to admire his brother’s beauty—cuddle up to him and the like, kiss him, everything he figures that normal siblings do. There’s nothing wrong with finding him objectively attractive, even with the striking red covering his body and the pits of his arms, unshaven and looking better that way. His actions, Hiiro mentally decides as he feels his pussy for real. He gets his fingers wet, indulging in the way he opens right up for his Nii-san, and methodically thrusts a finger inside of him as if he’s done this before. No warning, no looking for his hole—he did it with as little fanfare as possible, all to see the way Hiiro squirms.
He’s done this before, he thinks, but knows it isn’t true. Of course he hasn’t. Nii-san used to give him medicine to help him fall asleep easier, but… He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be doing this, either, if Hiiro was right about anything, but here he is.
“N-Nii-san…” Hiiro isn’t admitting defeat quite yet, but his body has already begun. Rinne’s finger inside of him is an anomaly, something that shouldn’t be there. No amount of writhing his hips and wishing it would just stop is getting him out of this, however. “I-It hurts…”
“Because you won’t shut up and let yourself enjoy it.” He responds so quickly, so naturally, almost like he was expecting the complaint. Nothing Hiiro can say will stop Rinne, or get him out of this beautiful hell. He’s living in a fantasy where his brother has all the time in the world for him, and being touched as if it’s really the truth. He wonders if he’d like it any better if Rinne would see him as he is, instead of insisting he isn’t; love him as the little brother he so badly wants to be.
“Wanting something won’t change reality.” He’s a smart boy, and he knows it, but hearing it come from his brother in regards to this mindset of his… It hurts, and the only thing there to alleviate the pain is the way Rinne looks above him. It’s nothing more than a reminder of a night he barely remembers, but that line is carved into his heart all the same. He’ll never stop disappointing Rinne, no matter how badly he tries not to. He’ll never be able to gain his approval.
He’ll never be looked at like this again if he keeps going behind his back and pretending. He’ll never be kissed by his brother, something so passionate and so wrong all at once, ever again. It’d be an upside to anybody other than Hiiro, and he doesn’t have to think twice about that at all. He can’t live without him. He’s thirteen, and Rinne is everything he’s ever had, everything he’s ever wanted. He wants him more than he’ll ever need an escape from the sheer isolation of being trapped in a body that isn’t his own; instead, it’s Rinne’s.
To do with as he pleases. To touch him like this, to spread him further, to carelessly remove a finger just to prod in the general vicinity of his clit while his tongue snakes itself down Hiiro’s throat. The nausea brewing in his stomach is turning into something else. He placated his little brother, and now, he’s rewarding him for shutting up and taking it. Not an ounce of it is for Rinne, either.
His brother loves him, but he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t go out of his way for this, and it’s why he shouldn’t be; Hiiro would let Rinne do anything to his body. He just wants to get him high off of the idea that Nii-san will reward him for his silent resignation, again and again, until it finally sinks in.
He’s a little sister before anything else. Rinne can tell he’s thinking it by just the way he’s kissing back, breathless and with drool going down his lips that Rinne is too eager to lap up for himself. Just a little sister beneath her brother, his fingers protruding into her with as much ease as a guy like Rinne could possibly muster. All for Hiiro, because he’d do anything for Hiiro. Anything.
“He’s only doing this for your benefit. He’s only doing this because he cares. He wouldn’t go this far for anybody else. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he always has.” He feels like he’s going to be sick. The little voice in his head berating him is right, just like Nii-san is. Holding back his tears is so, so difficult. His fingers are too big, and his heart is aching in ways only Rinne’s gentle and wet pecks across his face can quell. A strong hand moves to his chest just to fondle him, as if he’s showing Hiiro just how much he loves even this about the boy wanting to crawl out of his skin… And, it’s something. It’s something and that’s enough for now.
He can be happy like this. Rinne is the only person in the world that can make him happy.
“Soaked for me, huh…” His words are just as gravelly, but spoken more like a lover, and less like a rapist. Hiiro would never think of his brother that way, but the observation remains all the same. “Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, kid. My perfect little girl… Fuck, Hiiro.”
Hiiro, Hiiro, Hiiro. Not his little sister, but Hiiro.
He loves it when Rinne calls him that. To some extent, he loves
this,
too. Rinne’s fingers are soaked in the evidence of his arousal, and he rubs them over his dick. The bare minimum, of course, but if he wasn’t so…
Loving,
he would’ve sucked the stuff off of his fingers and entered raw. “N-Nii-san… I just—I just want to be perfect for you, Nii-san, f-forever…"
"Then don't do this shit to me, Hiiro." Rinne bites his bottom lip and savors the sweet red that comes from it. He drinks it until their kiss tastes sweet again. "Just stay the way you are. You're fucking— perfect."
He slides into him so easily that Hiiro finds himself digging his nails into his fingers, as if expecting a sensation far worse to course through his body. His length is more than his body is able to handle, but just the tip and a little more slots inside of him like it should, and for a moment, they feel like a completed puzzle against each other. Two halves of one whole, yet one too hesitant to admit it, eagerly finding pleasures in things that disregard his big brother entirely. He can't keep doing this to him. He'd deserve this more if it felt as horrible as it should, his brother sticking his cock inside of him and stretching him to his very limit. There's a reason it's morally depraved; a punishment. It doesn't feel like one anymore. He doesn't deserve Rinne making him feel this loved. The first time he squeezes around the man above him, he weeps, knowing that this will end, and thus will this embrace between them.
The day he isn't perfect to his brother is the day he dreads more than anything else. But he's perfect now, and that's enough, no matter the turmoil that'll come with it. He's been through enough, but nothing has ever made him feel as warm as Nii-san does.
He's so warm.
Warm. Hard. Strong, strong enough to crush him if he really wanted to, but the only bruises that'll litter Hiiro's skin will be the ones left by his brother's fingertips. He'll look at them later, and they'll only encourage him to return to this moment in time again. With his uneven thrusts and his hair sticking to his forehead from working up a proper sweat, he's a messy individual, driven by pure and utter desire. There's no logic in this, but there doesn't have to be. He's beautiful to Rinne, so Rinne touches him, and he squeezes around his cock in exchange. He's terrified of what this might bring, and the nausea never goes away, but the hot sensation of sex and feeling wanted is enough to make him forget.
He remembers when his hair used to be longer, and how Rinne would hold it whenever he found himself sick and over the toilet. It's a weird encouragement to want to grow it out again, and Hiiro knows it. He just—he can't help it, especially as Rinne runs his fingers through Hiiro's hair and feels it for himself. It's hardly to his liking now, but it's a part of Hiiro, and that's enough for him now. Hiiro chokes out a sob. "N-Nii-san… I'm—I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"
Rinne shuts him up with a kiss. The hand that was tangled in his hair a moment before moves to his chest, and squeezes, pressing his palm against his nipple until Hiiro is crying his brother's name pathetically once more. Rinne swallows his cries, and tastes his tears. He'll believe his apology when he finally proves it, but he isn't going anywhere in the meantime. He's a better brother than Hiiro could ever be, even with the obscenity of his hips colliding against the boy he's broken beyond repair. It's sick and it's twisted in all the wrong ways, but it's proof that even love can exist this way, at least to Hiiro. Nii-san loves him, he really, really does… And he never wants him to let go.
He loves the way it hurts, how desperately Rinne kisses him quiet, trailing his lips down his neck once he's satisfied and sucking hard enough to bruise. Whether the stretch or his brother's teeth hurt worse, he can't tell, his mind a muddled mess of complete and utter adoration only worsening by the second. He can’t tell when his small body squeezes and cums around his brother, but when his brother abruptly pulls out, he can only assume the best of this fucked up situation. He understands what his brother needs him to be, now, so he won’t—he won’t cum inside of him, won’t impregnate him until he realizes it, because he already has. He just has to keep being good.
There’s drool running down Hiiro’s lips as he stares down at the cock lying right against his stomach, being lazily pumped by one of his brother’s masculine hands. For the very first time, as far as Hiiro knows, he makes his brother cum. He wonders what those sorts of gentle kisses they used to give each other amounted to. He wonders if Rinne has always wanted to do this.
Still, he never thinks he has. Rinne isn’t a rapist, he’s his older brother that loves him so.
Why is it, then, when Nii-san looks over his abused body, does he suddenly feel the urge to cry?
“I-I–-I love you, Nii-san.” With a teary-eyed gaze, he looks at Rinne, like he’s begging for something more. “I love you.”
“That’s right, Imouto.” He swallows. “Not letting you out of my bed tonight. Get comfortable.”
“O-Okay.” It hurts. It hurts so much. Why can’t he just say it? What’s the point of any of this if Rinne doesn’t love him too?
“I love you.” He chokes it out again. Rinne’s using Hiiro’s borrowed shirt to wipe up the mess on his chest. “I love you more than anything in the world, Nii-san.”
“I know, Hiiro.” He doesn’t stink of alcohol anymore. “I know.”