Make sure to read the tags, plz.
Love and caring for you is an elbow in the gut. A firm, harsh hand on the back of your neck, setting you up right after you’ve doubled over. It’s a sharp whistle-command that sends an electric shot of obedience through your chest every, single, time. Your ear prickling up at the sound, like the trained mutt that you are. Caring feels like a smack on the back of the head so hard, your head spins, vision wavers, and your ears flood with the fast lub-dubs of your own heartbeat. Caring is the heavy blanket; the unwavering, watchful eye of your Commander; your Lord and Savior Gabriel Reyes.
Passion feels like his hand grazing up and down your spine as you ride your brother. The blade at the nape of your neck. His breath in your ear, telling each of his dogs how good they are. All per his direct order. It feels like the grip of your brother’s hands on your hips. The look in Jesse’s eyes that says “I wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else,” as you're both down on hands and knees, cleaning Reyes’ boots with your tounges.
You used to think your brother was the ugliest mother fucker alive. But now, time and time again, you watch him in the most demeaning situations, thinking you’ve never seen someone look more desirable. Jesse used to be of the same mind.
“Y’all know your twins right?” An echo of a voice from a long, long time ago.
Jesse, back when he was real young and ornery, “That don’t mean she don’t look like a rat’s ass, carryin’ a rat’s nest around on her head.”
Even then, before Gabriel's influence, a swift punch to the gut meant, ‘I love you.’ You buried your fist into Jesse’s side with a little grin on your face, and a quip. “At least I don’t carry a dirty mop around on my face. Wash the floor with that thing you call a beard and it’d get dirtier.”
The commander had worked your perspective of each other, and of him, like a sculpture. If you didn’t know any better you could swear he literally molded you both into more desirable versions of yourselves. Changed every last thing about you and your brother. Removed the shared blood from your veins… surely that must be the only way…
But that’s not true. Reyes never once let either of you forget who you are to each other. And you’ve still got the same rat’s nest atop your head. A mass of hair that your brother can’t get enough of smelling. Of burying his face into. Loves entangling his fingers into your locks whenever you’re taking his cock into your mouth; per Reyes’ order. Often you don’t care about how good it is for your brother. Rather, your gaze flits to Papi who sits back and watches as he always does. Wondering if your technic is pleasing him.
“That’s one of your best looks, nena.” Words that never fail to bait back the momentary waves of nausea that come around every so often. The cruel nagging sensations that stand to remind you just who’s dick your lips are wrapped around.
Never in your life have you wanted to be a ‘good girl’. You never could give a shit about it. Deadlock would have been sure death for a ‘good girl’. But when it comes from a man, who to you, seems closer to God than mortal the sound of it always tugs at your strings. Works your limbs, emotions, and actions like a living puppet.
You and Jesse were born together. Lost your parents together. Got into Deadlock together. Have gotten into endless amounts of shit together. Got arrested, and eventually taken in by Commander Gabriel Reyes, together. As far as you’re concerned the Commander saved your lives; even if at the time you couldn’t have been more ungrateful for the life intervention.
They had made the mistake of separating you from your brother, and for days. Keeping you in separate holding rooms. Where the both of you had become hostel vipers. Snapping and spitting at any agent who tried to come and question you. “Where the fuck is my sister/brother?!”
That was until, Commander Gabriel Reyes. He had walked into your holding cell. Carrying all the weight of a man with command and power. An imposing angel, wearing all black, and a beanie. Had demanded, “You better not fuckin’ bite me.” Before unlocking your cuffs, and showing you the open doorway.
That was the first time he ever touched you. Curled his fingers around your arm. Yanked you out of the chair and escorted you right to your brother. Who still had blood on his lip and brow from the days past. All crusted and dark. Purple and yellow bruises framing the corner of his mouth and the swell of his brow bone.
Immediately you started using the hem of your shirt and your own spit to try and clean him up. Albeit roughly you had good intentions. If Jesse hadn’t been so happy to see you he would have swatted you away and said, “Quit it, ya fuckin’ Mother Hen.”
Instead, he was happy to have your harsh, unsanitary cleanup. Leaned into the only person who could ever make him feel like he’s right at home anywhere. Even in a small windowless holding cell, with his wrists locked painfully tight to the desk.
Reyes hit the table, gave both you and Jesse a sudden start. “Knock it off!“ He held up his hand up with an open palm. “A couple of fuckin’ animals. I’ll get you a washcloth. Five minutes. Behave, while I’m gone.”
Reyes would never have to give such blatant commands now. A shrill whistle would do the trick. He had left you and Jesse to talk shit. To try to work up a plan to escape as soon as possible; also something that would never happen now. After all, what escape is there for two outlaws housed in the only sanctuary that would take you. With the only holy minister who would ever demand it, sanctuary.
Then the Commander had come back with bottles of water, a rag, and food; real food. It had been so very long since the last time you and your brother had had a full plate of anything. And the last time you were handed a full plate of food for nothing, you were six years old, and it had come from the hands of your mother. From the moment your parents died, full plates had to be earned and were not simply given. Though that doesn't change. Everything you receive is earned these days.
The both of you had stared at the plates for so long that Reyes felt the need to question, “You two ingrates ever seen food before?”
Jesse scowled at him, anger boiled in his chest. He’d learned not to trust a single person, not to take any act of kindness at face value. Smart, wise; for a big gullible idiot.
“What do you want?”
“For the two of you to cooperate,” Reyes stated as he leaned forward and freed Jesse’s wrists, “and eat.”
While the plates of food had been kind, the questioning was not. And somehow that had made the food easier to swallow. Knowing that while the food that you were putting into your mouths was real, that the Commander wasn’t necessarily doing you any favors; he wasn’t being… false. He didn’t sit at the other end of the desk with a concocted smile or sugared words.
Reyes made sure it was crystal clear that he held your fates in his hands. Knew every little thing there was to know about your pasts. Right down to, and including, the dates and times you were both born. “So that technically makes you the younger one,” Reyes said, referring to you.
“Yeah, I know.” Only the slightest tinge of attitude, as you nudged Jesse. “He don’t ever let me forget it… Sir.” More than a tinge of attitude in the last word.
Strike Commander Morrison had thought it would be impossible to tame two pissed off snakes, but Reyes had done it. With calm words of authority and a long discussion of what would be expected from the two of you; you were eventually signed up for Blackwatch.
Even against all of the protest, Morrison had had against it. Something you had inadvertently learned about later on down the line. You both had been a baby hair away from being thrown in jail for the rest of your lives. Never to see each other again. You owe the commander, everything.
A year later and you can hardly remember a time when you dared to be so defiant, really defiant. Now defiance comes from a sick place of want. From a place that warms your insides, and makes your mouth salivate. When you crave your Papi’s harsh affections, like a bitch in heat.
Standing in the middle of Reyes' private training room, you’ve got to piss like a racehorse. He's been making you and your brother hold it all damn day long. For no other reason than he said so, and that's good enough. So you better listen and stop asking when.
You’ve been told to warm up using each other, while Reyes standing back and watches the two of your wrestle and roll around on the mat. Thinking to himself that the two of you never fail to be annoyingly gentle with each other, a quirk he hasn’t quite been able to bleed out of your systems yet.
All of a sudden Jesse throws a sloppy elbow and it collides with your nose. Putting an abrupt stop to your timid quarrel. Reyes sighs, dissatisfied. That would have been better if Jesse had landed it with purpose, and not on complete accident. And if the abrupt halt wasn't coming from the kid's the need to apologize to his sister.
You’re not having any of his pokes, prods, or apologies. Shoving him away with two firm open palms on his chest. Then you wipe your nose and show your clean hand to him. “Ain’t even made me bleed,” you say with an air of confidence and cockiness. Reyes will have to amend that.
Reyes pushes up off the wall. His advancing putting a stop to each of your movements. The both of you standing still as trees with deep reaching roots in the ground.
As he takes his rightful place between the two of you Reyes cracks on elbow against your face. With every bit of the intention and purpose he wants to see from Jesse, and even more.
Flying back you hit the floor like a bag of bricks. Cover your face with your hands and slam your foot down against the floor several times. Working through the pain, sucking in sharp breaths of air.
“Now you are.” He squats down next to your writhing form. Says a-matter-of-factly, “That’s what a mutt gets for being cocky.”
Reyes waits ‘til you look him in the eye. When you do he whistles, and nods towards the wall. Git. Acknowledges your seat down on the floor, leaning against the wall with a nod of approval. Sit, stay, good dog.
Even for all of the spitfire that your brother has he’s never a match for Gabriel. Never will be. Reyes doesn’t train like most. Doesn’t wait. Isn’t patient. He comes at you fast, and he comes at you relentlessly hard. Giving brief suggestions, but generally expecting you to figure it out.
“Use your fuckin’ brain. Common sense says if I’m throwing a punch at your face then you should be putting up your arms to block.” When the punch lands across Jesse’s jaw and he stumbles to the floor Gabriel states, “Or you get hit. Simple.”
Jesse tries to get up, but the flat of Reyes’ boot swiftly meeting his hip knocks him over onto his back. Jesse’s teeth bare, a little whimper as he tries again to get back up. But again, Reyes does not allow it. Jesse simply isn’t moving fast enough to gain any leeway. His brain too clouded by the immense pressure in his belly. Getting tossed around on the mat certainly ain’t helping one bit.
Reyes drops his knee onto Jesse’s gut. Cruelly leans into it, making Jesse whimper pathetically loud. “Aw– for fuck’s sake, Dad.”
Gabriel reaches out and snatches up Jess’s jaw. “Do something about it, Kid.”
Jesse tries and tries. Reyes slamming him down like a rag doll. Landing punches and elbows into his belly. When Reyes finally gets what he’s working after, it’s not from any of the hits that he thought would warrant it. Rather a thick arm wrapped around the boy’s neck so tight that darkness looms in his vision and he loses control of his bladder.
Gabriel lets him drop to the ground with a thud. Choking on a breath, sputtering through tears. Actual tears, the kid is crying. The light grey fabric of McCree’s sweats, growing darker and wetter with every shake of his shoulders. The boy not finding the where-with-all to stop the stream of piss.
Gabe’s dick twitches at the sight. Swells, taking over the forefront of his brain. Growing thicker and longer at the live picture of his boy bent over, with a wet face and a wet crotch. Humiliated, sobbing like a baby. That’s the ticket.
Reyes presses the toe of his boot into Jesse’s crotch. Presses ‘til the boy whines and tries wriggling away. “Filthy mutt.”
Gabriel is taken aback for a moment. Is nearly startled when suddenly you are at your brother’s side. Leaving your place without being told to come? Bad girl.
Petting your brother’s sweat laced hair you try and comfort him. Tug on his arm, encouraging him to try and sit back up. “Come on Jesse it ain’t that big’a deal, stop cryin’.”
Before you have the chance to get him back up on his knees. Reyes plants a foot on his ass and shoves him forward. “You’re done, Kid. Get off the mat.” Jesse never does get back on his feet. Instead crawls to the wall and sulks there.
Then he looks to you. You now have his undivided attention. His girl who has already earned punishment from a trivial act of defiance, but defiance none the less. But first, he’s still set out to bring you to the breaking point. Just like he did your brother. The more reasons for punishment, the better.
“Up,” Reyes says to you. Still sporting smudged blood underneath your nose. Neither of you ever seem to learn that he won’t be giving any heads up. You’re never ready, never on your toes. Reyes feigns as if he’s walking towards the middle of the mat. Only to whip around and knock an elbow into your face again. Sweeps your legs out from under you with his foot.
Gabe yanks you back up onto your feet. Ready to knock you right back down. Already you seem to be far more determined than your brother today. Able to conjure up more mental willpower. Successfully able to block out the grand distraction in your bladder. All of the warmth barely able to slosh around with how bursting you are. Reyes made sure to keep each of his kids sufficiently hydrated today.
You’re too small and don’t have enough momentum to take him to the ground. So you leap up, locking your legs around his waist. Manage to drive an elbow down between his neck and shoulder. Barely a dull throb for him. You’re like a child trying to punch their parent’s leg during a temper tantrum.
That gives Reyes a good chuckle. Grabs you by your waist and body slams you down onto the ground. Knocking the wind from your lungs. Gabe rears back to get a good look at you as you struggle. Bright red blood pouring out of your nose. Running down over your lips. Staining your bared teeth. You’re pissed, that’s clear. Good.
He tries to throw a punch at your jaw. It’s exposed, so you deserve it. Your arms flying up to take the brunt. His fist colliding with the bone in your forearm. You scream, clutching your arm to your chest. Wriggling and writhing underneath him trying to get away. Doing nothing but making his dick harder.
Reyes does the same routine with you that he did with Jesse. Except if you’re going to act tough, like you can do a damn thing, then he’s going to be especially harsh on you. Tossing you around, choking you out. Landing punches and pinning you down with his knee. Round about now was the time Jesse had broken down, but you’re being so fucking stubborn today.
He knocks you down again. Before you’re able to get back up off the floor, Gabe kicks you in the gut. Nothing. He rears his leg back and does it again, and again. Each kick warranting a loud wail of pain.
Until finally you piss yourself. Not even aware that it’s happening. Too focused on the throbbing in your belly to notice the wetness flowing from your body. That’s a shame because you don’t seem to give a shit about it like Jesse did. How unsatisfying. All that work for nothing.
Gabe waits for a moment. Bides his time. Watches your legs shake, and the tears roll down your temples. Waiting to see if Jesse is going to assume that he can come and comfort his sibling like you did. Whether he does or does not, will determine how the next series of events will go down. His girl will give him satisfaction. And all that blood is giving him ideas and mental pictures.
Whether him getting it will be especially rough for just you, or the both of you; is up to the kid still sniffling against the wall and Jesse isn’t even aware of it. Though neither of you has learned to be aware of when Gabe is actually giving you a choice. When he’s testing you.
Jesse doesn’t budge. Reyes throws his head back and sighs. Pleased and yet not. Looks back first at the mutt in the same exact spot. Not moving a muscle. No matter how spring loaded his body looks.
Reyes takes a gander at all of the glisten. The wet stains soaking and drying on the mat. Shaking his head back and forth, he sniffs the air. Turns up his lip and nose. “I know I trained you better than this.”
For the first time during this whole “training session” you look at him with true hurt in your eyes. After all of the harsh hits. Even after the humiliation, he inflicted on your brother. All it takes it takes is a little verbal disapproval to get your gears working to figure out what you have to do to earn it back.
Gabriel dips down, cups your face. Runs his thumb along the space between your nose and your upper lip, collecting fresh blood. Circles it back around to press it between your lips. Making you suckle on your own copper. Like a puppy at their mother’s teat, you whimper.
Reyes whistles, come. McCree launches himself up off the floor. Takes his place next to Gabriel, awaiting orders. Gabe straightens up. Places a strong hand on the back of Jesse’s neck. Grins at how flustered his boy becomes. Now that never fails to be satisfying. Seeing his influence change every nuance of the kid’s face. Instantly half-lidded, mouth agape with heavy breath.
Gabe roughly undoes the kid’s pants. Spits into his palm and starts stroking his dick. Watching him as his bloodstained teeth are bared. Sure, Jesse didn’t come out looking quite as battered as you do right now, but he didn’t come away unscathed. Bruises coming to fruition around each of his eyes. Neck still ruddy and swollen. Later Reyes will be inspecting the ones that show up elsewhere. Really take time to admire all his hard work. For now…
“Look at your sister,” Reyes demands. Jesse does, tearing his attention away from Gabriel’s face. Length hard, full of blood, and heat in his palm. He keeps stroking him while working his magic. “She looks really good like this. All of that blood on her face,” then he looks to you, “Red’s a good color on you.”
As expected, Jesse agrees. “It is.”
“Get behind her, Boy. Down on the floor.”
McCree seemingly already knows what Reyes wants. Slides right into autopilot. Gets behind you and helps you get up on your knees. Looks to Reyes to make sure he’s doing what he wants as his hand's fumble around with the strings of your sweatpants. Tugs them down just enough. Slides his knees onto either side of your own, then sits back.
You, who is having an off day, has yet to slide into autopilot yet. Need to be told, “Sit.”
Placing your hands on Jesse’s knees for leverage you lower yourself down onto your brother’s erect length. Keep going ’til you feel the cold metal of his belt and zipper against your cheeks. Fully-seated, stuffed up with your kin. Awaiting the instructions of the only man who’s ever come close to being a father to you and your brother.
The commander palming the bulge in his pants as he slowly undoes his own belt. A belt that makes your eye twitch, and your stomach lurch. A belt that you know intimately. Just the sight of it as it’s slinked out of the belt loops, the long-familiar hiss of it, get’s your adrenaline pumping.
Gabriel side eyes Jesse has he loops it around your neck. “Fuck her, Kid.”
Jesse’s head falls between your shoulder blades, another familiar feeling. His hands hooking in between your thighs. Grips as he starts to buck up into you. Reyes puts the end of his belt through the buckle. Gives it one good tug. Allowing the buckle enough momentum to slide down the length of the leather, ’til the metal meets the base of your neck. Wraps the belt around his fist several times, ’til it’s just beginning to dig into your larynx.
Gabe widens his stance. Both lowering himself and planting his feet just on either side of Jesse’s knees. With a few flicks of his free wrist, his cock is in your face and you know just what you need to do. Your jaw hurts, your nose is throbbing. But you open up, allowing for Reyes to jam his length into your mouth. Relentlessly leaning in. Uncaring about the violent gag that makes your whole body heave.
Reyes fucks your mouth. His length sliding in and out of your blood-stained face, looking far better than the mental picture he had earlier. He glows with pride, knowing that no matter the fantasy he can use either of his twins to help him fulfill it. Two of his own personal puppets. With a little finesse, he can get either of you to do whatever he wants.
The belt becomes tighter and tighter around your neck with every single thrust. Saliva seeping out of the corners of your mouth. Your brother huffing and puffing against your back. His strokes barely pulling back, before they are slamming back into you. New tears streaming down your face every time Gabe’s pelvis meets your abused nose.
Jesse’s cock expands inside of you. The snaps of his hips stilling as his grip on the inside of your thighs tightens. “Ah, damn, Moonshine— oh, shit— can I cum, Dad?”
“No. This isn’t for your benefit.”
Jesse lets out a long pained groan. Stopping completely to focus on bringing himself back from the brink.
Reyes wraps the leather around his fist again. Between his cock, and the metal you can’t breathe anymore. A few moments later, just as your about to pass out. Hot, choking ropes of seed spurt down your throat.
The leather lets up, and so does your Papi. Pulling his cock out of your mouth before he’s done cumming. You’re too focused on breathing and swallowing. Too focused to notice or care about the spurts of seed that hit your cheek. Roll down, collecting dried up blood. Dripping down onto the already soiled up mat.
“Jesse, your sister’s face is filthy. Clean it.”
Jesse huffs, still struggling to keep pumping into you without busting. “Okay, okay.”
Leaning back to make it easier on him, you turn your head to the side. Jesse feverishly licks the cum, blood, and saliva from your face. Lapping it all up with short and quick drags of his tongue. Laps turning into kisses as he cleans off your lips.
His nose brushes against your own causing you to wince. He pecs your lips one more time whispering, “Sorry, Sugar, sorry… sorry.”
It was only supposed to be one more pec. But it turns into another one. “S’okay Jesse.” And another one, and another one. Until you both become a little lost in kissing and fucking. Forgetting for a moment who exactly you’re fucking for. That is, until a shrill whistle breaks through your sweet little moment, stop, and you both come to an abrupt halt.
The both of you look up at Gabriel, ears prickled. Waiting to hear some praise. He gives it to you. Each getting an individual “good girl” and “good boy.” You both might as well be sitting on hands and knees with your tongues lolling out of your mouths. What’s next Master? What trick do you want us to perform next?
By now you have an inkling of what comes next. You’ll be expected to clean up your messes. Then he’ll take time tending to your injuries. And you’ll cherish every gentle press of the ice. All the time he’ll spend cleaning you and your brother up. Heeding every hint he gives that says, when people ask, and they will, you and your brother did this to eachother. Tsk, tsk; the quarrels of siblings. What is he going to do with the two of you?
