your little brother has never done anything wrong in his life, and yet seeing him makes a wave of nausea hit you so deep inside you that you stumble a little bit. you hate him. you have to hate him, it's the only way you can cope with it. you avoid him at home, barely giving him a glance when you have to escape your bedroom, the only place where it feels like his presence isn't tied around your neck like a millstone. you avoid the sad looks he gives you when you hastily shove past him or pretend you don't hear him. he has a face like a kicked puppy. it only makes you feel sicker.
sometimes the feelings come to a head, and his presence feels inescapable, and you can't stop yourself from thinking dark thoughts about your little brother. you think about how good it'd feel to shove him into the ground. to punch his stomach until you can't hear his whiny little voice anymore. to slap him and to kick him and to hurt him. to leave him in an irreparable state for the rest of his life, one that'll make him avoid you like you avoid him.
sometimes you jerk off in bed thinking about hurting your little brother. you fantasise about seeing tears beading at the corners of his eyes as you press your hands around his throat, tightening your grip until the light leaves his eyes and his struggling gets weaker and weaker. the thought of his tiny body going limp in your hands makes you rock hard, and it's so disgraceful but you're rutting into your hand like it's the only thing keeping you alive right now. you think about raking your rough nails against his quivering body until he bleeds his blood gushing out of his chest and every time you pump your dick it feels like the image only gets more vivid, more real, your thoughts keep getting deeper and darker and more charged until the only thing going through your brain ringing through your ears throbbing and pumping and deafening is
i wanna rape him i wanna rape him i wanna rape him the day before that really important maths exam he has on that he's been studying for for the whole year so that he can't focus and comes home with a d and maybe then maybe my parents won't only care about him anymore and fuck
you climax, white hot, so much and so fast and you're making a mess all over your bed and you're so lightheaded you feel like you're about to pass out, and your hand is so sticky and your cock is throbbing and god, fuck, you can't believe how badly you want to hurt your little brother that you'd cum so hard to the thought of hurting him, fuck, you're so messed up, you're so fucked up, why can't you stop thinking about it, why can't you stop thinking about his face covered in tears... you roll over and clean up and press your face hard into your pillow, unsuccessfully trying to think about nothing at all (nobody at all) until you pass out, falling into uncomfortable, restless slumber.
~
you can't help but notice that sometimes your little brother keeps his door open at night. maybe he collapses after studying too much, too tired to even walk to the door. maybe he's scared of the dark, scared of being alone. you don't know, you wouldn't ever pay that much attention to him, but you can't help but peek in a little every time to see him curled up under the blankets. he always looks so peaceful, a soft little smile on his face and a plushie in his arms. you've never seen him tossing and turning, or making pained noises, or jumping awake from a nightmare. the way he sleeps is just as proper as the rest of him. a perfect kid for loving parents.
every time you sneak out at night and see your little brother's door ajar it feels like something tugs at you. every single time it feels stronger, hotter, harder to escape. your jealousy, burning at the back of your neck, aching to be let out. that feeling of wanting to finally have something over your brother, wanting to make him hurt. wanting to make him feel like you do every single day. sometimes you can let those feelings out at the gym, by punching something as hard as you can until you don't have the energy to care anymore. sometimes you get these feelings out on your bed, hand pressed between your legs, something hot and shameful and embarrassing. one night you press the door open, widening that little sliver of light peeking into your little brother's room, and close it behind you with the slightest click.
he's still fast asleep curled up there, only lit up by the faintest glow of moonlight. soft little face with his eyes shut so serenely, body all wrapped around a plushie. so, so peaceful, so innocent. your chest aches, a searing hot feeling that courses through your head and your body and presses, throbs between your legs. this innocent, beautiful, perfect boy, this boy who's never had to worry, or struggle, or care... all you can think about is tearing off his perfect little wings, of defiling him, of seeing him all teary eyed in front of you. like he looks in your fantasies, your dreams.
your shadow looms over him, draping his entire body in black.
your moves are clumsy and rough. you grab the blanket and rip it off until you can see all of his lithe body—you can't help but look, his top rolled up so you can see his flat little stomach. you use one hand to press his shoulder into the bed, the other going to wrap around his mouth before he can make any noise of protest—he stirs from your actions, struggles and kicks out at you and makes little confused sounds of protest, but you're so much stronger than him, so much stronger you can barely feel him struggle, and your weight bears down on him to anchor him in place so, so easily. you hope he hasn't noticed it's you, yet.
one of your hands moves to coil fingers around his little neck, so soft and tender, it feels like if you dug in your claws you could rip his organs out of his body, tear him apart like he's made out of paper. your fingers tighten and you can feel him spasm, feel him desperately clambering for breath with anxious little movements, thrashing, thrashing, but the more he struggles and the tighter your fingers get the weaker the thrashes get. it doesn't matter, it was never going to amount to anything, he was never going to overpower his older brother. that's the one thing you can hold over him.
the feeling of him weakening under you makes you feel dizzy, makes your chest clench, blood rushing between your legs faster than you can even think. you grab the hem of his little flannel pyjama bottoms—the moonlight catching on the little doggy pattern adorning them—you grab at the hem of his boxers underneath, and tear them down roughly, claws digging into the fabric, until his fragile body is all exposed to you—
he's so pale, he looks untouched, little mousy boy that barely ever leaves his studies behind, innocent kid who's never been hurt, who dreams softly and safely every single night, you want to defile him, you want to tear at his skin, you want to cut it to pieces, you want to—
you find yourself dragging a nail down his thigh before you even notice it, leaving a dark red mark of distress on that perfect little skin as he quivers and shudders and whines out little begs of protest into the hand still firmly clamped over his mouth. you feel giddy at his reaction. you do it again, in the same place, feeling him whimper and wince, breaking through his thin little skin over, and over, and over.
you feel yourself throbbing down there. you can't take it.
you pull your pants down hastily, carelessly, and press down onto your little brother. your member pressed hard against his body, soft and warm, but you feel like you're burning up and it's no solace at all. his ass feels so small against you. you feel like you might tear him open. you want to tear him open. your instinctual grinding rubs a trail of precum between his cheeks, making it feel slicker, and easier, and with the warmth of his ass enveloping you... you twitch with impatience...
you fumble to find his entrance, cock throbbing and aching, hasty and desperate to be inside your little brother, he's so small and you're so much bigger and it feels like you're going to tear him open until your dick finally finds purchase, twitching against the entrance of his little hole. you can faintly feel his limp struggles, hear him begging you to stop desperately, desperately, fruitlessly muffled by your grip, your hand hot and wet from his panting, your body feeling hot, shamelessly hot all over,
you force yourself inside him in one movement, his tiny hole struggling to contain you, giving way hesitantly, something so obviously not built to take you. he shudders, his body almost convulsing underneath you, he's begging frantically, so frantically you can actually hear his muffled pleas, asking you to stop, please, it hurts, i didn't do anything wrong, please,
you press his tongue down, you press your fingers so deep into his mouth, into his throat, it's soft but dry from whimpering so much, you feel his throat quiver around your fingers as his protests turn into useless choked noises. his body feels so tight, so small, half your size, your hand greedily exploring his chest underneath his pyjama top, grabbing and clawing roughly as he trembles,
your cock feels like it can barely handle the pressure, pressing achily into your little brother's hole, he's barely able to take you, you keep pressing into him, further and further, your head is spinning, choking out grunts, grabbing his sides like a toy, using his body to force yourself deeper, deeper, you can't think about anything else except the feeling of his insides, the way he clenches and quivers and hug your cock so tightly, god, it feels wrong, it feels so good, it feels wrong, and you're all the way in and fuck you're throbbing so hard, you can feel yourself pressing against his stomach, your little brother feels so—
you have to calm yourself by digging your nails into his side, dragging them down his waist, down his hips as he drools over your fingers, drooling and shaking, letting out pleas that can only come out as chokes. stopping to feel yourself inside him, that achey thrum of blood rushing down there, desperate to press into, desperate for stimulation. you take long breaths. deep breaths. digging into him, grasping his tiny hip tight against you, hand cupping his mouth, pressed in place exactly where you want him. calm. you're in control. deep breaths. deep breaths.
you think you can hear him whimper out "bro", even if it can only come out as chokes—
you grab him so fucking tight, your hand still wet from saliva, grabbing him by the neck, your hand being able to almost wrap around it entirely, choking him, gripping so so tight that it bruises, that his resigned kicks and struggles become stronger and more desperate underneath you, unable to do anything but choke and clamor for oxygen,
you slide yourself out of him fast, rough, you let out an involuntary moan from the feeling, a shiver that runs all the way up your spine. god, it's so tight, he's so tight, it feels like you're going to break him—it feels so good, you thrust back in almost as fast as your hand tightens around his neck, grabbing at his body in a vice grip, you want to hurt him, you want to tear him apart, you slam into him rough, hard, it hurts to press into him, he's too tight but you don't care, it hurts good, it feels good, it feels like every part of you is throbbing, screaming with need,
you let go of his throat for just a second, let him pant and struggle for breath, deep breaths, desperate breaths, giving him moments of respite just to hear that breath hitch as you pull out again and thrust your entirety into him, press into him until you feel his stomach bulge, grabbing and thrusting into him over and over and over—every time you ram your cock into his body it feels better, it feels easier, you're so wet from pre down there you can hear the slickness every time you move your hips, and his noises, his shaky little pained whimpers just make you want to rut into him more, to stretch his little boy body out more than he can handle, to mold him until he's the perfect shape to fit your cock,
your head feels hot as you pump into him, white hot, you feel the urge to grab his body harder, pulling at his hips, his waist, your other hand wrapped tight around his neck making him choke and whimper, pressing down on his bruises, making sure it hurts, you want him to hurt, you want him to hurt, he's your toy, your toy, your toy, yours, slamming into him over and over, it feels so hot, it feels so good, you're sweating and panting and you can't think of anything else and you feel so close to the edge, close to the edge, oh god, you're going to cum inside your little brother— — —
you hilt inside his tiny frame one last time and climax with a shudder, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through you—your head won't stop throbbing, rope after rope after rope inside him, white and sticky and hot, you can't believe you're filling up your brother with this, your dirty desire, your lust, your hatred, inseminating him, clawing at his hips until your fingers go white, heartbeat so audible it's deafening with a thump, thump, thump, god, fuck, his tightness, his convulsions feel like they're trapping you inside, locking you in place, the feeling feels like it goes on forever and ever and ever until you're spent and aching and the fuckfog in your head starts to subside,
your little brother is whimpering, barely audible desperate noises, barely able to form a word, but as you pant and gasp and feel yourself recover from the haze you can hear his tiny little pleas finally form into something you can understand.
"i-i'm sorry..."
you've made a really bad mistake.
the lust clouding your judgement leaves your mind in an instant. you roughly pull out of him, the sound of your slick leaving his little hole louder than anything he could possibly say, and force his body down against the bed, his pyjamas still around his ankles and pulled up to his chest. your lips approach his ears, breaths rough from exertion, voice hoarse and hollow, to whisper something that any older brother would.
"if you ever say anything about this to anyone i'll fucking kill you."
you pull up your pants, too mortified to care about how wet you still are, how much of a mess you made over your own body, over his, and rush out of the door, leaving his room with a slam.
your little brother never does say anything. not to you, not to your parents, not to anybody. he keeps his door shut every single night now, though. every time he looks up at you, eyes all sullen and lidded like he couldn't get any sleep, you feel a twinge of something in your chest you don't want to think about ever again.