On The Complicated Relationship Between Brothers

All in all, it had been a good night. After managing to escape the awkwardness of the penthouse, Klavier had met up with Daryan, and they had spent their evening drinking free cocktails and chatting up frauleins at a new club in the city. He had nearly forgotten about the mess from the previous afternoon when he found himself back home at 2:00 a.m.



Grinning to himself stupidly in a way that could only be thanks to alcohol, he stumbled out of the elevator and into his apartment. The doors closed silently behind him, leaving him standing in a pitch black living room. As usual, Kristoph hadn’t left a light on for him. Unable to see right away, Klavier took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.



Suddenly sleepy, and not wanting to trip over any furniture by accident, Klavier decided, in his drunkenness, that it was a good idea to lay down and sleep right there on the floor. Kristoph might object, but he could deal with that in the morning. He knelt on wobbly knees and eased himself onto the plush carpet, curling his body up and snuggling into himself. His breathing had just about evened out when a shrill sound suddenly jolted him awake.



“Teapot...?” Klavier mumbled to himself as he surveyed his surroundings. Between his confusion and the alcohol in his system, the room looked like it was spinning. But, the lights were still off. It was the middle of the night. There was no one in the kitchen. Klavier leapt up off the floor when he heard the sound again.



“Kristoph?” Was that a scream? Klavier’s head suddenly cleared with concern for his brother. He stumbled down the hallway towards Kristoph’s room, alcohol still affecting his ability to move. He heard another cry, this time closer. It was definitely Kristoph. Panicking, Klavier tried to run to him, but, just as he reached the door, his foot caught on a throw rug and he tumbled to the floor. Wincing, Klavier dragged himself up to his elbows, and craned his neck to see through the doorway. But, what he saw was nothing like what he had expected.



On top of Kristoph’s bed was his brother, stark naked except for his glasses, with his ass in the air, forehead pressed against the headboard, and hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. And, behind him was Prosecutor Godot, fully clothed, his pants unzipped only far enough to reveal an enormous, glistening cock that was currently pounding into Kristoph like a force of nature.



Klavier’s eyes widened in horror and his mouth fell open. He tried to yell out something in protest, but he found that his lips wouldn’t move. He tried to avert his eyes, but he found that he couldn’t tear them away. He felt paralyzed, and couldn’t stop himself from drinking in every terrible detail.



Kristoph’s pale body was slick with sweat. His face was flushed, and his long, disheveled hair fanned out over his shoulders, some of it sticking to his face and getting into his mouth. Tears were streaming out of his half-lidded eyes. He was crying out softly each time Godot slammed into his slim frame. With each thrust, he was pushed harder against the headboard, his glasses crushing against his face. Godot stared down at him, a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hands on Kristoph’s hips to steady him.



Klavier was frozen in place. Should he rescue his brother? Was he hurt? Why was Kristoph letting this happen? Suddenly, he heard the sound of a low voice.



“Kristoph...” Godot purred as he continued to hammer into him.



“Ahn...” Kristoph whined in response, unable to speak.



“Oh, Kristoph,” Godot scolded with a disappointed sigh.



Klavier felt a shiver shoot down his spine. That tone of voice. Why did it sound so familiar?



“Kristoph, you know that I like it when you talk to me. Haven’t I taught you that a good kitten doesn’t sit silently when his master wants him to speak?” Godot reprimanded him sternly, punctuating his sentence with a violent thrust that slammed Kristoph’s head into the bedpost. He let out a strangled cry, but didn’t respond.



Klavier’s heart was racing. He suddenly recognized what had sounded so familiar. It was the same tone of voice that Kristoph had always used against him, ever since he was a little child, chastising him for making even the tiniest of mistakes. Except, this time, Kristoph was the one being scolded. He was the one being humiliated. Despite himself, Klavier found that he had become strangely excited.



“Kristoph, if you don’t act like a good little kitten, I’m going to have to punish you...” Without warning, Godot’s hand shot out, grabbed a handful of flaxen hair, and pulled Kristoph’s head back viciously.



“You’re a bad little kitten, do you know that?” Godot growled at him, baring his teeth.



“Yes, sir!” Kristoph finally wailed, tears flowing down his cheeks. At the sound of Kristoph’s bestial cry, Klavier’s eyes widened in shock, and his breath caught in his throat. Frantic, he finally managed to scramble to his feet and flee to his room, slamming the door behind him and hiding under the covers like a child.



Klavier trembled, his head swimming from shock and alcohol. What was going on? Why was Kristoph letting this happen? Why didn’t he tell him to stop? Why didn’t he yell for help?



Why didn’t I save him?



Looking for comfort, Klavier unconsciously lowered his hand to caress himself, but recoiled in horror when he realized just how hard watching his brother’s abuse had made him. Panicked, he began to cry. Aroused and confused, an exhausted Klavier eventually drifted into a deep but unrestful sleep, accompanied by the muffled sounds of his brother crying out in the next room.