( It's true that no-one fucks him like Dima fucks him.
That isn't to say his other lovers don't please him — Gods, anything but that, especially not when Balthus takes him to bed and fucks him stupid while he's borrowing Dorothea's face — but there's an intensity behind Dima's eyes, his lips, his hips that no-one else has yet managed to match. Perhaps it's the inherent desperation for love and approval that his brother seeks with each punishing thrust: Dima fucks like he might die if he doesn't make Yuri scream and writhe and come; like the seasons might fail and the world might wither if he doesn't bury his seed as deeply within him as he can.
Idly, he wonders how many children they'd make if Yuri were to give himself to Dima in a softer body, too. How long it would take their siblings to become suspicious of the strong, beautiful youths leaving the Underworld, the sun catching in golden hair and warming pale skin for the very first time.
Dima begins to move, shallow at first, and his thoughts shudder to a halt. There's nothing quite like the feeling of being reminded how full he is: those tiny little grinds feel less like being fucked and more like being deeply joined, and a guttural sound escapes him as his fingernails bite hard into the meat of his lover's ass. )
Would you?
( Unfocused eyes gaze up at Dimia, his expression caught somewhere between dreamy, desperate, and just a little wild. )
Would you soak the earth with their blood for me ...
( His thighs shiver again as, slowly, his brother pulls out to the very tip, then tilts his hips down to sink back in and stretch out that tightness again. It shouldn't be so easy to undo him but Yuri's head drops back on a groan anyway: he feels delirious with lust, his cock thick and throbbing between his legs as he pulls his knees back to open himself up that bit further. )
no subject
( It's true that no-one fucks him like Dima fucks him.
That isn't to say his other lovers don't please him — Gods, anything but that, especially not when Balthus takes him to bed and fucks him stupid while he's borrowing Dorothea's face — but there's an intensity behind Dima's eyes, his lips, his hips that no-one else has yet managed to match. Perhaps it's the inherent desperation for love and approval that his brother seeks with each punishing thrust: Dima fucks like he might die if he doesn't make Yuri scream and writhe and come; like the seasons might fail and the world might wither if he doesn't bury his seed as deeply within him as he can.
Idly, he wonders how many children they'd make if Yuri were to give himself to Dima in a softer body, too. How long it would take their siblings to become suspicious of the strong, beautiful youths leaving the Underworld, the sun catching in golden hair and warming pale skin for the very first time.
Dima begins to move, shallow at first, and his thoughts shudder to a halt. There's nothing quite like the feeling of being reminded how full he is: those tiny little grinds feel less like being fucked and more like being deeply joined, and a guttural sound escapes him as his fingernails bite hard into the meat of his lover's ass. )
Would you?
( Unfocused eyes gaze up at Dimia, his expression caught somewhere between dreamy, desperate, and just a little wild. )
Would you soak the earth with their blood for me ...
( His thighs shiver again as, slowly, his brother pulls out to the very tip, then tilts his hips down to sink back in and stretch out that tightness again. It shouldn't be so easy to undo him but Yuri's head drops back on a groan anyway: he feels delirious with lust, his cock thick and throbbing between his legs as he pulls his knees back to open himself up that bit further. )
To make me proud?