
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2255115.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Eyeshield_21
  Relationship:
      Kongo_Agon/Kongo_Unsui
  Character:
      Kongo_Agon, Kongo_Unsui
  Additional Tags:
      Extremely_Dubious_Consent, Established_Relationship, Twincest, Twins, No
      Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Violence, Face_Punching,
      Nosebleed, Power_Imbalance, Dom/sub, Verbal_Humiliation
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-26 Words: 2591
****** Support ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Unsui’s bleeding before he realizes Agon is going to hit him." Unsui
     decided to be the support for his brother, and he follows that to its
     ultimate conclusion.
Unsui’s bleeding before he realizes Agon is going to hit him.
He didn’t even know his brother was in the bedroom. He was thinking about
training, replaying the too-slow pattern of his steps during the last hour,
acknowledging his lack of stamina and contemplating adding another training
session to pick up the slack. His eyes aren’t even in focus yet, the door is
still swinging open, when there’s an impact with the side of his face, hard
enough that he goes stumbling sideways. His lingering hold on the handle is the
only thing that lets him catch his weight, that saves him from falling entirely
in that first pre-pain shock. He’s still stumbling for his footing when fingers
close on his shirt, drag him bodily off his feet and pull his hand free of the
makeshift support.
Unsui knows who it is as soon as his head has caught up from the first blinding
shock. He doesn’t need the tell of the strength in the fist dragging him
sideways, doesn’t need the dark of long dreadlocks in his periphery, doesn’t
need the growling taunt of “Unko-chan” to know who it is. If he had been paying
attention he would have known before he opened the door with the preternatural
awareness he sometimes has for Agon, some deep-rooted self-preservation telling
him to run.
He never listens.
This time Agon shoves him onto the bed, which is better than the alternative.
Unsui doesn’t have his balance; he would have fallen heavily against the wall
or the dresser or the desk, at least the bed is a relatively forgiving surface
for the impact. That means Agon’s not really angry, just bored and picking a
fight even though he knows Unsui won’t pick up the other end.
“How did you like practice?” When Unsui looks up Agon is standing in front of
the light, deliberately silhouetting himself into a shadow haloed in gold.
Unsui looks down and away, instinctive submission to the silent demand from
that figure, brings a hand up to swipe at his nose. His skin comes away stained
red and wet; it’s not a surprise, he can taste the blood touching the back of
his throat as well as smearing over his lips, but it does mean they’re going to
get blood on the sheets again.
“It was fine,” he says without looking up. He doesn’t have to see to know when
Agon moves; the shift in the shadow over his face would tell the story for
anyone, even if Unsui weren’t feeling the echo of movement as if he’s borrowing
Agon’s skin, as if he can predict what his twin will do so every motion is deja
vu. He’s turning into the pull before Agon’s fingers have closed on his
shoulder, twisting over onto his stomach in anticipation of the other’s shove,
and the preemptive obedience makes Agon laugh, sharp-edged sincerity in the
other’s throat.
“You need it,” he says, as if Unsui needs reminding, as if there’s any way this
line of attack could even draw blood anymore. This is an old wound, so scarred-
over there’s nothing but numb under Agon’s attack, nothing but the pattern of
habit as Agon shoves Unsui’s shirt up over his back, as Unsui arches his hips
up so he can hook his own thumbs over the top of his shorts and push them off
his hips. “Practice is the only way you’re able to even pretend to keep up with
me.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Unsui says evenly. He sounds calm, if somewhat
congested from the continuing slow bleed of his nose. It might be clotting but
that just makes it worse, he can’t breathe except from his mouth now. “I’ll do
whatever you need me to do.”
Agon’s fingers tense on his back, scratch sideways and close hard on Unsui’s
hip, clenching into pain, into bruising, so hard Unsui thinks he might be
drawing blood.
“I don’t need anything from you,” he hisses, and Unsui should really have seen
that coming, but he’s gasping in animal incoherence under the flaring agony of
Agon’s fingers and he can’t formulate a response. Agon keeps his hold for a
long, breathless moment; then he lets his hold go, Unsui sobs a gasp of relief
even as the blood rushing back to the bruised skin brings a surge of burning
pain with it. His hands have stalled in their motion, anticipation of what Agon
wants insufficient to override the reflexive stillness of shocked pain, and
while Unsui is still catching a breath Agon’s fingers close on his shorts, drag
them free of his hold and down to his knees in a motion so fast the elastic
catches and burns Unsui’s skin.
“Don’t forget,” he cautions. His hands leave for a moment, there’s a rustle of
fabric as he pulls his shirt up and off; Unsui doesn’t turn around; he knows
Agon’s body by heart now, knows how his brother’s shoulders look when he
reaches up over his head to shed his clothes and how Agon’s long hair falls
heavy over his suntanned skin, and he has bigger priorities. He knows what’s
coming, knows where they’re going and knows that Agon certainly isn’t going to
pause in his advance unless there’s no inconvenience to him at all. So he
slides forward over the bed, stretches for the drawer where the bottle of lube
is until he can close his fingers on it, and Agon lets him get his hold on it
before the other’s hands are against his hips, dragging him backwards over the
sheets until his legs hit Agon’s knees.
Unsui doesn’t protest. He’s never protested, not once, not even the first time,
and he’s certainly not going to start now. He made his decision years ago, knew
exactly what he was giving up when he decided to be Agon’s tool, understood the
implications of embracing his inevitable second-place position. He can hear
Agon sucking his fingers wet and slick with saliva, can just catch the purring
almost-laugh at the back of Agon’s throat, and he is grateful, as he is always
grateful, for the flash of reaction in his blood, the shivering anticipation
that burns him with heat as much as humiliation as Agon’s hand shoves his leg
aside, as Agon’s fingers catch and start to force into him.
It makes it easier, that he wants it.
“You like this,” Agon observes, echoing Unsui’s thoughts as he so often does.
He’s not being gentle, he’s not being kind, and Unsui can’t catch his breath
and has no response anyway. “You love being under me, Unko-chan.” The name is a
mockery of affection, twists saccharine and taunting, but his fingers are
thrusting deeper and Unsui’s starting to shake, his hands trying to make fists
of the sheets even though he can’t get purchase. Agon’s not gentle but
Agon knows, Agon knows Unsui’s body better than Unsui does himself, and he
angles his hand down just as he sinks in the last inch, shoves his fingers in
with pinpoint accuracy, and Unsui’s shoulders jerk, his cock twitches against
the bed, and he chokes on a half-strangled moan.
“Say you like it,” Agon orders, even though his words hold no doubt at all.
“Tell me how much you love getting fucked by me, Unko-chan.”
Unsui opens his mouth, submission too strong to even consider resistance, and
Agon draws his fingers back, shoves them back in so hard Unsui’s words crack
apart into another raw sound, desperate and pleading even though he doesn’t
know what he’s pleading for.
“Tell me,” Agon says again. He’s dragging Unsui’s hips up higher, working his
fingers inside the other with that same vicious efficiency, and when he reaches
around Unsui whines in a breath of anticipation before fingers close on him,
the grip too-tight but still better than no contact at all.
“I love it,” Unsui says, in that first rush of shaking appreciation of Agon’s
touch. Agon draws his hand back, thrusts back in quick like he’s pushing a
button for more, and Unsui groans and buries his face against the bed. “I love
it when you fuck me, I love it when you jerk me off, I love --”
“When I hit you,” Agon prompts, and Unsui nods, desperate under the pressure of
the other boy’s fingers inside him and the suggestion of the unmoving hold
around him.
“When you hit me, when you notice me,” and that’s too much, Unsui knows that’s
too much truth even before Agon hisses and does stroke over him, fast and hard
so his words fall short into silence.
“When I fuck you,” Agon says again, slower, like he’s spelling out a lesson for
an idiotic child or dragging a pet back onto the right path.
“You like it, tell me.”
“I like it,” Unsui gasps. “I like it when you fuck me, Agon.”
“Your brother.”
“My brother.”
“Your twin.”
Unsui groans, shivers against the bed. Agon’s moving faster, he thinks, or his
sense of time is stretching out of shape under the pressure of the other’s
movements. “My twin.”
“Because I’m better than you.”
“Yes.” That’s easy, that’s no admission at all. “Because you’re better than
me.”
“Good.” Agon jerks his fingers free, so fast Unsui gasps at the loss. He’s
grabbing at the bottle still clutched in Unsui’s fingers before the other can
even think to offer it, letting his hold go entirely for a moment so the only
contact is his knees digging sharp against the back of Unsui’s thighs. Unsui
gasps for air, tries to brace himself even though he knows it’ll be useless,
knows there won’t be any coherency left for him in a minute no matter what he
does. He can hear the zipper of Agon’s jeans, the wet slick of the lube between
skin and skin, and anticipation is chilling him into panic and excitement until
he can’t move, can’t think and can’t do anything but shut his eyes and shake
against the sheets.
The fingers that drag against his scalp make Unsui jump, startled by the touch
itself as much as by the lube-slick chill of it. Agon’s free hand braces at his
hips, Unsui can feel the head of the other’s cock pressing against him while
fingertips dig in against his head, reaching for purchase they can’t quite get.
“Fucking baldie,” Agon hisses, and the irritation in his tone, the angry
tension in his fingers, is enough to warn Unsui of what’s about to happen, to
give him a moment to suck in a desperate breath before Agon thrusts forward,
shoves into him so hard Unsui’s vision flashes blank and white for a moment.
“If you had hair I’d have something to hold you with.”
“Sorry,” Unsui gasps.
“No you’re not.” Agon shoves his face against the mattress, lets his head go
entirely and reaches back around to close his fingers around Unsui’s length.
He’s moving smoothly, pounding out a rhythm that’s too fast for Unsui to ride
out, too much to give him any leeway at all. “You’d have longer hair if you
were really sorry.” The stroke of his hand is punctuation rather than pleasure
but it’s still sensation, still enough to jolt down Unsui’s spine and send him
convulsing against the mattress. Agon is barely touching him, almost just
holding him steady rather than jerking him off, but that selfish rhythm is
rushing Unsui’s body to the finish line as fast as Agon can go, faster than
Unsui can manage alone. His heart is pounding, stuttering out-of-rhythm and
breathless and Unsui can’t speak, can’t move and can’t muster coherency at all,
but Agon fits into him even better this way than his fingers did, like Unsui
was shaped specifically for his twin’s benefit.
“You feel good,” Agon says, stealing the words direct from Unsui’s shattered
thought process and giving them their own voice. He moves faster, strokes over
the other’s length again, and this time when Unsui starts to shake he’s not
sure he can stop. “Maybe this is what you’re supposed to do with your life,
exist just for me to use you when I want.” His hand moves again, draws another
involuntary shudder from Unsui, and Unsui’s vision starts to blur out of focus
while Agon’s words go soft from lack of attention, wash over him like the rush
of sensation in his skin. “So few people get to do what they were meant to do,
you’re so lucky, Unko-chan.” Agon’s hand is moving, slow and idle, but Unsui’s
trembling himself into a rhythm of his own, his breathing is closing off
entirely. He chokes on an inhale, he can see pleasure coming for him, there’s
no chance to hold it back -- and Agon’s fingers slide down, close around the
base of his cock, cut off the inevitable and Unsui’s breathing at the same
time.
“No,” and he’s furious, his voice is grating into darkness and shadows and
rage. “Not before me, Unko-chan, not alone, you come with me or not at all.”
Unsui can’t breathe. His throat is tight around the moan of pleasure
that wants to break free, that he can feel shimmering just barely out of reach,
just behind the impossible pressure of Agon’s fingers; the blood on his face
has gone sticky and dry, has seeped a dark stain into the sheets, and he can’t
care, he doesn’t care about anything except that Agon let him go.
“Please,” he manages, choking on the one word like it’s an entire speech
instead of a few syllables. “Agon, please.”
“Please what?” Agon says, sharp and insistent. It takes Unsui a minute, his
thoughts are hazy and blurred until it’s hard to parse what the other is
looking for. But then it comes into focus, and of course he knows, he’s known
his whole life which of them is first.
“Please come,” and it’s broken, it’s a wail and a plea and shattered all around
sincerity. “Come in me, Agon, please I want you to.”
Agon makes a sound, a laugh formed on the fringes of a moan, and his fingers go
tighter around Unsui, just for a moment. Then he thrusts forward, one and twice
in impossibly quick succession, and Unsui would swear that rapidfire sensation
does it, washes hot through him and sends him groaning into orgasm even before
Agon lets him go. The heat of Agon pulsing inside him is lost, drowned out
along with all Unsui’s self-awareness in the shuddering, endless wave of
pleasure that overtakes him. It’s the only time Unsui is ever selfish, the only
time he ever forgets about Agon entirely, in these brief moments when the
demands of his body finally override the calculations of his head and there is
nothing at all but the warmth.
Agon pulls away too soon, while Unsui is still panting to catch his breath and
regain his bearings. By the time Unsui thinks enough to roll over onto his
back, Agon’s on his feet, pulling his jeans back into place and looking down
instead of at the other.
“Clean up,” he says, still looking at his clothes. “You’re fucking filthy, it’s
disgusting.”
Unsui is sure someone else would be offended. But this is familiar too, more
comfort than hurt at this point, and he’s still languid and trembling with
aftershocks, until even the mess over the sheets and across his skin isn’t
enough to quell the faint smile at his lips.
He can’t see Agon’s expression to see if he’s smiling or not. He doesn’t need
to.
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