Trinity Blood, Cain/Abel, Who's on top today, brother?
“Who’s on top today, brother?”
The question was purred into his ear, and Commander Abel Nightroad cracked open a blue eye to find Captain Cain Knightlord sprawled next to him on the bed, gloriously nude with blond hair falling around his face. Reaching up, Abel slid his hand through his twin’s hair, pulling him down for a gentle kiss, enjoying the feel of their mouths moving against each other with no particular urgency.
“I’m feeling lazy today, brother,” purred Abel, absently brushing his own silver hair out of his face. Cain chuckled as he slid a hand down Abel’s chest to wrap around his awakening flesh, and Abel moaned softly as he thrust into that light touch. Those wickedly clever fingers slipped farther down, and Abel spread his legs, welcoming the light touch as his hands buried themselves in blond hair. It was all part of the game between them, trying to get the other to break with the lightest of touches, pleadings for more falling from pale lips as pleasure was fanned beneath soft skin.
A moaning gasp was pulled from Abel as long fingers slipped past tight muscles, stretching him for Cain while spreading oil to ease the friction. Sharp teeth nibbled at his exposed throat as Abel started moving his hips, thrusting back on those wickedly wonderful fingers, but there was no begging, no pleading for more. Cain would have to work harder to pull those sounds from his brother.
“I wonder how lazy you are feeling,” purred Cain, his eyes flashing with desire as he slipped a second finger, and Abel yelped, hips arching off the bed as they found that spot inside him, sending sparks skittering along his nerves. “Are you feeling lazy enough for me to shove my entire hand in you, to feel you clamp down around my wrist as I stroke deep inside your body, filling you to the bursting point as you writhe on my hand?”
Those soft words combined with the gentle manipulation of that spot had Abel whining as the image described danced before his eyes. Instead of verbally responding, the silver haired man grabbed his knees and spread his legs as far as he could, opening himself completely to Cain’s eyes.
“Please, Cain,” he moaned, wanting to feel his brother deep in the most tender part of his body, stretching and filling him as his words promised. A delighted laugh was his response as three fingers slid into him, stretching and teasing. He moaned, deep and wanton, as his fingers dug into the back of his legs, desperate to keep himself open, and Cain’s laughter swirled through his head, mixing with the low moaning that was the start of a Martian sandstorm.
“Hear that, brother? Mars doesn’t like the fact your moans are more sluttish than hers,” purred Cain, dribbling more oil between Abel’s cheeks, and the silver haired man whined as a fourth finger wormed its way into his body. He thrust back on those fingers, feeling then slowly slide farther into his body as he forced his muscles to relax and accept the invasion.