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It’s been about two minutes since dad told Gob to take his disappointment of a sorry ass and dead dove outside, accompanied by his mother’s shrill laughter, and now he’s patting Michael on the shoulder and telling him he can also take another shift in the banana stand. Stupid Michael, always in the banana stand, never there when he should be telling Gob that his dove is already sitting where he’s about to shoot his fire ball to. And now he thinks he can go to their room without so much as a single word of hello to Gob, but that’s not going to happen. Gob is the older brother after all.

So he gets in his way, grabs his arm. “Hey, guy,” he says with a bit of an edge to his voice to let Michael know what he thinks of his behaviour. Michael doesn’t seem to notice though.

“Hey, Gob,” he replies, distractedly rubbing his neck while he tries to get past Gob. He doesn’t even see the way Gob threateningly pulls his eyebrows together, so Gob will have to follow him, get him to admit that he’s behaving badly or something like that. He trails Michael hot on his heels, tries to let dangerous hot breath blow over his neck the way dad does with him whenever he accidentally stumbles upon Gob doing something that looks like it could become something good, but Michael doesn’t start to sweat and stutter the way Gob does under the treatment.

“Michael,” he finally says in his best scary voice when Michael sits down at his desk, nose immediately buried in one of his books, still not even a look for Gob.

“What is it, Gob?” Michael sighs, and what’s he sighing for? Gob should be sighing with a little brother impolite. Yeah, that’s it. No manners on him, Gob doesn’t even know what dad’s so proud of him for.

“What-what is it, Michael?” he asks, upset spilling all over his words, making them jangle wildly against each other. “Shouldn’t you-should, sh-should you, should the guy in the 5 $ banana stand shirt, should you, you shouldn’t talk like that, i mean, come on, should-sh-should the guy in the 2$ uniform talk to his older brother like that? Should-sh-should…” Gob feels this big weird lump in his throat suffocating him again, making all the words come out wrong and pressing them up against his eyeballs instead of out of his mouth - or something like that, because why else would Gob’s eyes be prickling like that?

He doesn’t even see anything anymore, even though his eyes are frantically searching around the room for Michael’s yellow shirt. It’s right in front of his nose suddenly, shoving Michael’s scent into his nostrils, and there are hands on his back, too, half-hugging him. Michael is hugging him. But Michael doesn’t get to hug him, does he? Hasn’t even said hello to Gob and now he’s trying to get on his sweet side?

Gob feels a little sweet with Michael coming so close that Gob can fist his hands into his shirt and hold him even closer. Michael doesn’t like it when he does that. Stupid Michael doesn’t know how to have a little fun between brothers, brotherly love, yeah.

Gob’s fist ramming into Michael’s stomach surprises even himself. Only for half a second, though. Then he’s on it, just as much as Michael is. Gob pushes them over and they’re rolling around on the floor, punches flying in a sort of well-practised choreography with Michael letting out a few angry-hoarse screams. One of the really good ones then. Maybe Gob should call in dad so he can tape them for some quality boyfighting content and be proud of Gob for once, Gob thinks between two failed hits going for Michael’s face.

He gets him in the stomach again, though, and Michael hits his shoulder, his collarbones - ouch - and then they are way too entwined and tangled up in a maze of limbs to even be able to hit anything properly, instead just pulling and pushing and trying to dig into the worst, uncomfortable places. You know what’s a bad place to be hit in? Or have something pushed really forcefully against rather? Your - you know…- your crotch, right? It must hurt to have a bony boy’s bony leg crushed into it.

Doesn’t though. Not really, at least. Feels kind of good instead if Gob’s honest. Honest, what’s that for? Gob doesn’t need to be honest, no idea what’s meant with that. All he knows is there’s Michael’s thigh pressed up right against his crotch (his dick, alright?), and Gob’s had a thought or two about having a guy’s body pressed up against him there (but like, only when he’s jerking off, not to like, think about marriage or something. He’s not gay, for God’s sake), but he’s not sure it’s supposed to feel good when he has his brother’s leg rubbing all over his dick. His half-hard dick, hmm.

Half-hard, though? Who’s even doing that? Either you’re soft, or you’re fully hard - and like, who’s soft? Hard is for men, real men, soft is gay, isn’t it? That’s how it works. So Gob’s fully hard against his brother’s thigh, Michael’s thigh, not Buster’s, so God help him. And Michael - Gob doesn’t know what’s about Michael. He can’t see his face. Well, he could open his eyes and look, because he’s pretty sure Michael’s face is right under his. But that seems kind of hard now (ha!), and Gob kind of likes how they are right now, Michael still trying to punch his back and rubbing up against him - oh, he’s rubbing up against him, rubbing...up...against Gob’s hard dick.

“Mikey,” he breathes out, suddenly the word just leaving his open mouth, even though his eyes are still closed tightly. And Michael stops struggling, stops pushing and pretend-punching, and Gob thinks he can hear him opening his eyes. He thinks he knows the sound of Michael’s lashes fluttering up and casting these long shadows down his cheeks that Gob wants to dip his fingers in and see if it’s actually cooler there than on the rest of Michael’s red cheeks.

“Gob?” Michael sounds a bit weird. And Gob doesn’t know why. Why would Michael be weird, they’re just boyfighting. Nothing to be weird about there, Michael. He’s gone really still underneath Gob, though, so maybe Gob has to make sure he knows they’re just boyfighting. He cracks one eye open, sceptically blinks down at Michael.

“Mike?” he asks, so out of breath suddenly. Suddenly, because he usually doesn’t get so out of breath - he’s fit, in contrast to floppy, skinny Michael underneath him. Sometimes Gob worries he’ll actually break one of his wrists or rip his arm off or something.

“Gob,” Michael says uncomfortably, and now Gob’s uncomfortable too because all they’ve been saying to each other is their names over and over again, and what’s that all about?

“Yeah?” he says, being reasonable and not saying Michael’s name again and smiling down at him because hey, fighting doesn’t have to mean you can’t also be nice. “A problem, Mikey?”

“Ahh, no,” Michael replies and shifts and then Gob doesn’t hear what else he’s saying because is Michael hard? Hard against Gob’s thigh? Gob carefully rubs his thigh against Michael’s crotch and yeah, he’s pretty damn sure that’s Michael’s cock hard against him.

“What’s that, Mike?” he asks and grins, now with both his eyes open, as he pushes his leg harder against Michael’s (hard) dick.

Michael goes beet red and Gob loves this, oh this is brilliant. He grinds down against Michael a little, presses their bodies close together and Michael’s lips part in a sigh. Yeah, of course he’d sigh like that, soft and polite like Michael is.

“What are you doing, Gob?” Michael asks, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed this really pretty colour, and Gob grins wider at him.

“Nothing,” he says, all drawn out and pushes his hips down against Michael’s. “Hey, guy, do you like it?” he asks and then swallows a moan he doesn’t deem appropriate for an older brother lying on his younger brother, a- a moan for a brother, an older brother, an older brother grinding, well fighting, well grinding or fighting or grinding against his younger brother.

“Gob,” Michael hisses, and Gob rolls his eyes. He’d thought they were through with this whole saying each other’s names all the time business. But apparently Michael isn’t (immature kid, really), he says again, “Gob,” and then continues with his cheeks even redder, “you know, that’s not...we shouldn’t be doing... that…”

“Doing what?” Gob asks confusedly. He’s not doing anything. Except for boyfighting, but they’ve done this countless of times so he doesn’t see what problem Michael has with that. “You know, just because you’re... you know, a bit hard, doesn’t mean anything bad’s going to happen. Not like dad’s here with his camera, right?” he laughs and pushes his thigh down against Michael’s cock. Michael moans, ohh.

“No, but… Oh, Gob,” Michael moans again, and that’s it, that’s sold then, Gob’s going to make Michael come, in his pants. Michael will like it, yeah? Michael will look even more breathless than now, because of Gob; he’ll look at him with more of that spark in his eyes; he’ll be looking at Gob right when he tumbles over that edge.

Gob rubs his thigh against Michael’s dick more pointedly, and it makes his dick rub against Michael’s thigh too, and it makes Gob shudder and then groan and Michael gasps again and everything is breathing and rolling hips and boyfists in each other’s shirts, not hitting or scratching, but pulling and tugging closer, closer, closer.

Michael’s dick feels so nice against Gob, and he can’t even really feel it (it’s big, Gob bets. Not as big as Gob’s, he’s the older brother after all, that wouldn’t be possible, but he thinks Michael probably has a nice cock that would fit well in his hand. Not that Gob would do that, he’s not gay, but nice cocks probably run in the family. After all Gob’s got a nice one).

Gob loves the way he can still feel it twitch in Michael’s pants when he tugs on the collar of Michael’s shirt, he loves how he can feel that Michael likes this, he likes this, he likes Gob so close to him, he likes Gob doing this with him, he likes Gob.

Gob is looking at him. Michael is so flushed, a little sweaty, and when he looks back into Gob’s eyes, something hot rolls through Gob’s entire body. It has Gob clinging to Michael like he’s drowning, and Michael’s arching up into him too, they’re moving together and it’s so, so nice, Gob’s going to...Gob’s going to come.

Michael looks like he’s about to come. He’s shivering, his brows furrowed and Gob can feel how hard he is, bets he could feel his vein pulsing if he had his hand wrapped around his cock and were actually stroking Michael. Or even better, if he had him in his mouth and could taste how much Mikey likes Gob making him come.

“Mikey,” Gob groans, and then he does something weird and leans down and crashes their mouths together. Michael’s lips are so warm and so wet and so soft and they are on Gob’s, Michael is kissing Gob - for real with sucking on his lip and making everything feel so hot and so good, and his leg is right there, and Gob is coming.

His fingers curl into desperate claws in Michael’s shirt and he feverishly rubs himself against Michael’s thigh while he makes a mess of his pants. It feels so good, and everything is so wet and nice and Michael keeps kissing him back, even pushes back against his tongue until Gob has to open up wide for him and let Michael slide his tongue inside.

He slumps and goes kind of boneless after he’s finished, but Michael doesn’t seem to be too content with it. He pushes Gob over until Gob’s the one who’s flat on his back with a brother on top of him, angrily grinding his cock on his thigh over and over.

“M-Michael,” he can’t help stuttering, because this is new, and it’s exciting, makes Gob’s chest constrict with something when Michael fists his hands in Gob’s shirt and slams his upper body down into the ground hard to give himself better leverage. It doesn’t take long until Michael slumps over too and comes, right on top of Gob, and Gob feels like he’s flying. He wants to rub his hand over Michael’s crotch to see if he’s come all the way through his pants like Gob too, but Michael’s stretched out long on top of him and it’d require some serious shaking and pushing to get his hand where he wants it and Gob’s still a little well, exhausted. It’s fair to be a little exhausted after coming from boyfighting with your brother, Gob thinks.

Michael seems to think so too. He doesn’t make a move to get going, back to his stupid book or whatever, instead stays right here with Gob, heavy and bony in all the wrong places, and so, so warm and comfortable.