#rustymotor ship

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My original request for RustyMotor was gonna be number 8 if you wanna try that.

The silence in the apartment was usually a sanctuary, but tonight it was oddly suffocating. He had only been back for an hour, the engine of the stolen bike still ticking as it cooled out on the street, when the air turned sour.

"Thought ya left, again."

His Rusty-James’s voice was thin, reedy. His younger brother was standing by the window, a hand drifting from his hair to rub frantic, soothing circles into the crook of his elbow. His Rusty was shifting his weight, his lips parted in a jagged, uneven rhythm as he tried to mask the puffiness around his eyes. Like he thought he was playing it cool, like he thought he was hiding.

He takes a step forward, the floorboards groaning, His intent to offer some dry, dismissive comfort dying the second His gaze locked onto the inner arm of His brother.

The red haze didn't build; it slammed into Him. There, against the pale, bruised skin, was a pinprick- a dark, blossoming mark that told a story He had seen too many times not to know by heart.

"Motor, you, ya ain't actually gon' hurt me, right?"

Scared to Feel Your Hand on my Damaged Skin. - rustymotor fic

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Feeling productive today- now if only I could focus on deadline fics lmfao

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18 or 34 with some RustyMotor?

"You're not, you're not leaving yet, are ya?" Rusty-James' voice was tight, biting back what he wanted to say but his big watery eyes were so obvious and open, His little brother hated being alone- he might even beg Him to stay if He asked him to…

Rusty had shuffled his feet and looked around the room, starting and stopping saying something or other in the time it takes Him to respond, it's endearing, in a way that makes his body ache to be closer, or maybe that was the same thing that called for Him to leave; run off to some town where nobody knows His face or heard about what He likes in bed.

See that's something He likes about Rusty, he was always willing to try whatever He wanted, so bursting full of impossible loyalty and a deep desperation to be seen; what was a little pain in return for feeling wanted? That's why He had to take care of him. If anyone else learned about that they'd hurt His little brother, and He hated when His Rusty got hurt.

"Nah, don't worry kid. Not going anywhere yet." It doesn't taste like a lie but it rolls off His tongue like one, smooth and silky, like He hadn't actually decided yet even after saying the words-

Well I Think That I've Gotta go and I Don't Know why but I Need you to Promise That you Won't cry.

Cw incest, underaged

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He doesn't know how long He'd been gone, He never really bothered keeping track; why bother when He hadn't ever planned to go back?

Tulsa Oklahoma, regardless of how often he leaves, determined to finally find a reason to stay away this time, something always draws him back. Whether it's the river or it's Hershey chocolate eyes filled with such reverence or it's the allure of a smaller body that fits so perfectly beneath His own, He was never all that certain.

What He is certain about, is that He's already on the way back when the pretty waitress's brunnete hair looks almost cherry-cola between blinks, that His fingers are already longing to bury into those pretty locks and have those Hershey eyes watering beneath Him when He's allowed Himself to be lured into her bed again; it's not enough, it never is, no matter how often He finds Himself between her legs.

He makes it back to the river before he's even realized it, hopped on some drunken Viper's motorcycle in the middle of the night and was home before the sun had even fully risen.

Give me Peace but Then you Steal it.

@hintonchallenge rustymotor ship "Mutual Pining" incest

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With warm happiness buzzing under his skin, Rusty-James roughly swiped at his fingers, trying to get the sticky residue off. The taste of chocolate ice cream was still sweet on his tongue, and his eyes kept jumping toward the benches every few seconds. He found his brother, the Motorcycle Boy, leaning against his namesake- the bike a sleek, dark machine that looked like it had been carved out of the city night- while a few girls hovered nearby, their laughter bright and sharp in the humid Tulsa air.

​Rusty-James might have minded all the girls trying to get close to the Motorcycle Boy on any other day. He might have felt that familiar, gnawing ache in his gut, the jealousy that always tasted like ash. But not today. Not when he could feel his older brother’s dark, Hershey-chocolate eyes tracking him from across the pavement, completely ignoring the girls to wait for him to get done cleaning up.

​He was being waited for. He was the one the Motorcycle Boy was looking at, present, clear-eyed, focused entirely on him and no-one else.

​Rusty-James wiped his hands on his jeans and hurried over, his heart doing a erratic, joyful flutter against his ribs.

​"Ready?" he asked, breathless, coming to a stop just inches from his brother.

​The Motorcycle Boy didn't even glance at the girls. He just pushed off the bike, the movement fluid and effortless, and tossed a spare helmet to Rusty-James with a smirk that felt like a secret between the two of them.

​"Let’s go," the Motorcycle Boy said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly hum that Rusty-James felt in his own chest.

It's Burning up in my Head Like one of Your Cheap Cigarettes. - Rustymotor, incest, summerfest fic for "Beach"

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That one scene from Rumble Fish where MB leaves the boys to walk their drunken selves home but RJ actually dies before MB shows back up to save them

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Every once in a while someone will show up requesting me to write for some rare pair or another, and it always makes me laugh because you know someone's in the shipping trenches when they're inboxing the person who has only written porn of said ship.

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Terry, post Shepard Gang collapse: my kids are fine, I don't need to check on them

Like, sir. Your oldest is pinning your youngest to the cot and making him see God.