+ certain someone who wants to stay more anonymous and asked for dry humping specifically
“This is not that bad, right?” your big brother murmurs against the back of your neck as he lays down behind you on the couch.
“This isn’t bad?” you ask, but try your best to just focus on the movie despite how his long fingers creep across your hip. He pulls you against himself, and suddenly it becomes just a bit harder to focus on which stupid teen in a perm is getting stabbed.
“We still have our clothes on. I mean, if anyone asked, you could call this cuddling, right?” there’s a kiss on your cheek, just a little peck. It would feel innocent —maybe a little corny — if not for how hard he is against your ass. You had given permission, again, provided he not make too much of a show of it. You had been stupid, honestly — how did you even think you’d be able to ignore this? There are jeans and there are slacks but the layers of fabric do nothing to protect you from knowing that your big brother has his cock hard for you. Again.
“I’m seriously hoping that no one will ever know anything about this, much less enough to actually ask,” you grit through your teeth, eyes glued to the pool of blood on the screen, seeping underneath a bedroom door. Your brother starts grinding himself against you subtly, almost accidentally, but it’s not long until it becomes more forceful, the couch underneath creaking softly.
“Okay, then it doesn’t matter what we do, sis,” he hisses, and the light pecks on your cheek turn to kisses on your jawline, on your ear, on your neck.
“Stop it—” you groan, about to shove his head back, but that doesn’t take the precedence when those long fingers of his are creeping down between your legs. You grasp his wrist, but what’s that to stop his fingers from worming between your thighs and caressing you? The sensation is dull through your clothes, barely there, but still something almost snaps and gives in.
Almost. With heaving breath, you yank his hand away and the bastard laughs, a breathy, careless one, similar one when you wrestled as kids — or more like, he decided to wrestle you and you tried to get out — and you finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggling, managed to try and land a little kick or a punch on him. It had usually been your attempt to stop it. A tap out.
”No,” you say, not unlike you would to a dog.
But just like back then, it only excites him more.
His fingers entwine with yours, and his arm around your waist pulls you tighter to himself when his mock-thrusts become more insistent, clothed cock digging into your ass as if trying to penetrate the layers of fabric.
“Sorry,” he pants against your neck, completely unapologetic, “Just wanted to make it good for my cute little— fuck…”
He throws his leg over your hips and climbs to lay on top of you. It’s uncomfortable, pinned between the couch and your big brother, his arm digging into your stomach and you’re pretty sure your spine won’t like the curve it’s being forced into. But you relax, even if with an only half-exasperated groan and a “fucking asshole”. You don’t fight. Because this, him pinning you to the couch in a way that would render any attempt to squirm away meaningless, lets you finally just lay there and take it and moan into the pillow when his teeth graze against your pulse. Hot, wet breath and sharp canines — he’s not careful with those things. There’s still the bitemark on your arm from the time he sank his teeth in you when you were teenagers, a dare to see how hard he can bite before you call it off. How long would you last if he tried it again?
“You’re so much like a dog in heat sometimes, you know?” you mutter into the pillow, as if you weren’t raising your ass to meet his rutting hips.
“Yes. Yes I am, little sis,” he moans, and he sounds giddy. If you could see his face, you’re sure his eyes would be rolling back. His tongue is already lolling out, swiping at your neck, and he laughs when he hears you whimper, when you clasp onto his hand tighter. If your brother is a dog, you aren’t too far behind. You whine like a little puppy when he finally sinks his teeth into your shoulder and comes in his pants, and you find yourself hoping he leaves a mark this time, too.