
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6100822.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      伪装者_|_The_Disguiser_(TV)
  Relationship:
      楼台, Ming_Lou/Ming_Tai
  Character:
      Ming_Lou, Ming_Tai
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Pseudo-Incest, Hand_Jobs, Sexual_Inexperience
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-24 Words: 2057
****** This Same Rain ******
by ginnywrites
Summary
     Ming Tai is in Paris with his family on vacation when the
     unimaginable happens. Meanwhile, Ming Lou has a lot on his plate, the
     latest of which is his youngest brother and his complete lack of
     boundaries.
Notes
     Ming Tai's age is not explicitly given, but given the content, I felt
     it would be prudent to warn for underage sexual content anyway.
See the end of the work for more notes
Ming Tai knows about this, in theory. He knows this is a thing that happens.
He’s not stupid, and he’s heard vague, hushed whispers about it in the
classroom and in the corridors at school between classes.
Knowing about it in theory doesn’t make it any better.
He rolls onto his back and flings the covers to the side, biting his lip when
the covers brush over his erection. He’s been lying awake for the last hour.
He’s tried everything, tried waiting it out for a good fifteen minutes, tried
thinking about something else, tried going to sleep in spite of everything.
He’s even tried touching himself, until the magnitude and force of the
sensation made him too nervous to continue and he stilled his hands, balling
them up into fists and shoving them under his pillow.
If only Ah Cheng were here. Ah Cheng would know what to do, and he wouldn’t
laugh if Ming Tai asked. Unfortunately, Ah Cheng is currently at his flat,
thirty minutes away, on campus where he’s currently attending university, and
probably sleeping soundly because it’s Sunday night and he has to wake up for
classes tomorrow morning. Even if Ming Tai were willing to walk thirty minutes
in the dark, it’s raining heavily outside, and he’s pretty sure that the
occasional rumble he hears is thunder and not a car or carriage rattling down
the road.
Ming Tai rolls onto his stomach and sighs into his pillow. Ah Cheng would—Ah
Cheng would just smile at him, and ask what was wrong, and maybe he’d—he’d tug
Ming Tai’s pajamas down, gentle and careful the way he always is. He would tell
Ming Tai that it was okay, that he was okay, and—
Ming Tai’s pillow is damp against his cheek where he’s been drooling onto it
without even noticing. He groans.
Obviously, asking his sister is completely out of the question; she’s a girl.
There’s no way to tell how his eldest brother is going to react. Ming Lou has
always been a strict disciplinarian; the bad cop to his sister’s good cop. And
he’s been increasingly secretive recently, increasingly irritable, blaming his
short temper on stress from work. Ming Tai had hoped that their family vacation
to Paris to visit Ah Cheng at school would improve his mood. For a while, it
seemed like it did. They’d strolled along the Seine, Ming Lou gallantly
offering an arm to Ming Jing, while Ah Cheng and Ming Tai ran ahead, chasing
after the silhouette of ships in the distance and pelting each other with
roasted nuts. But then Ming Lou had gone out for a dinner meeting with one of
his mentor’s colleagues, and he’d returned to their hotel grim-faced and
stormy, his expression dark enough to match the summer rainstorm raging
outside. Ming Tai had given him a wide berth, hoping sleep would improve his
mood.
But Ming Tai can’t make it through the rest of the night like this.
He creeps to the door of his room and to the next door down the corridor inside
their suite. He raps gently at the door, and, when there’s no response, he
pushes the door open.
His brother is just a lump, curled up under the covers. A flash of lightning
outside illuminates the curve of his shoulder and the sweep of his hair.
“Da ge,” Ming Tai whispers. He waits a few seconds, and tries again, raising
his voice to be heard over the rain. “Da ge.”
His brother shifts and lifts his head. “Ming Tai?” His voice is rough with
sleep, and Ming Tai feels a little guilty for waking him up. “What’s going on?”
“I—” Ming Tai swallows. He steps fully inside and shuts the door behind him,
since his brother doesn’t seem angry. “I can’t sleep. I had those dreams
again.”
He sends up a silent apology to anyone up there who might be listening. It’s
wrong to use his occasional nightmares as an excuse for this venture, he knows,
but at least the part about him not being able to sleep is true.
Ming Lou’s expression softens. He scoots back a few inches on the bed and lifts
the covers.
“Come on,” he says, sounding resigned. “But don’t make a habit out of it.”
Ming Tai burrows under the covers and curls up against his brother’s chest. He
feels Ming Lou tense at the sudden closeness, but he eventually relaxes,
curling a hand around the back of Ming Tai’s neck and tucking Ming Tai’s head
under his chin.
“The change of environment and the storm outside probably aren’t helping,” Ming
Lou says, and Ming Tai is close enough to feel his chest rumbling with his
words. “But I’m here. Sleep.”
For about five minutes, Ming Tai tries. But his problem isn’t resolving itself.
If anything, it’s worse, more insistent, making Ming Tai’s heartbeat and
breathing a little faster.
“I also,” he starts, but the rest of his words die in his throat.
Ming Lou is quiet, but he rubs the back of Ming Tai’s neck comfortingly. Ming
Tai shivers, pretty sure he just felt his cock twitch under his pajamas. This
was a colossally terrible idea.
He reaches out and trails a hand down the front of Ming Lou’s pajama shirt. He
stops when he hits the hem and snakes his fingers up underneath—
Ming Lou seizes his wrist in a tight grip. The hand on Ming Tai’s neck pushes
at his shoulder, forcing Ming Tai to look up at his brother.
“I just want to feel,” Ming Tai tries. “I don’t know how to—just let me—”
“What exactly are you trying to do?” Ming Lou says, every word heavy with the
weight of his anger, all the more dangerous for how quiet he is.
It should scare Ming Tai. It should send him at least stumbling out of bed, if
not running back to his room. It shouldn’t make his brain white-out with
desire, and it definitely shouldn’t make him go weak and desperate, biting his
lip to suppress a soft moan.
He tugs his wrist, testing the waters, and Ming Lou lets him go. Ming Tai takes
a hold of Ming Lou’s wrist and guides his hand slowly, slowly between his legs,
because Ming Lou’s always been better with words than he is, but Ming Tai’s
always been about getting his point across in the fastest way possible. He
feels Ming Lou’s fingers brush against the head of his cock, where it’s pressed
up against a damp spot on the front of his pajamas.
Ming Lou pulls back like he’s been burnt.
When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral. “Is that what you’re worried
about?”
Ming Tai nods.
“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s normal. It’s not going to hurt you.”
“I know that,” Ming Tai says, angrily.
“Then why come to me?” Ming Lou asks. “Since you know all of this already—”
“I don’t know,” Ming Tai says, talking over him, “how to make it better. I
don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, and I thought you could help.”
“Ming Tai—”
“Please?”
He wishes Ming Lou could see how terrifying this is, how much he wants this,
how much it’s costing him.
“I—”
Ming Lou looks like he’s about to deny him, and Ming Tai gets a little
desperate. “Just once,” he says. “Just this once. We’re away from home, and I’m
scared, and I trust you. You’re—You know best. Just this once. Please.”
Ming Lou looks at him, really looks at him, like Ming Tai is some kind of
puzzle he’s seeing for the first time. His eyes linger on Ming Tai’s cheeks, on
his lips, and finally, on his eyes.
“Once,” he finally relents.
He sits up against the headboard and tugs Ming Tai into his lap sideways, using
his left arm to support Ming Tai’s shoulders. Ming Tai settles between his
brother’s legs, his right side pressed against Ming Lou’s chest.
Ming Lou nudges his legs apart and murmurs, “Relax.”
He tugs Ming Tai’s pajamas down to about his mid-thigh—just far enough to
expose Ming Tai’s cock. Ming Tai lets his feet slide further away from him,
straightening his legs a little, but there’s still a slight bend to his knees
where they cross over Ming Lou’s right thigh. He tries to take a few breaths,
but they all come out shuddering and uneven.
“I’m going to do it like this so you can watch and learn,” Ming Lou says.
His voice is barely more than a low rumble against Ming Tai’s cheek, but Ming
Tai nods. Ming Lou takes him in hand and starts to stroke, and Ming Tai can’t
help it, his eyelids flutter closed.
“Some parts of you will be more sensitive than others,” Ming Lou says. “Like
the tip, especially this area here.”
He demonstrates by running his thumb along the area he’s describing, setting
off sparks behind Ming Tai’s eyelids. A thin, needy whine escapes from between
Ming Tai’s teeth.
“Open your eyes,” Ming Lou says, a hint of a scolding note in his voice.
Ming Tai forces his eyes open, and then nearly wishes he hadn’t, because the
sight of his brother’s big hand closing over his cock once more makes him feel
like he’s about to break. He lets his legs fall open a little more, and Ming
Lou hums in approval.
“Good.”
Ming Tai’s face goes so hot that he’s sure Ming Lou must be able to feel it
through his pajama shirt.
“You can play with other parts, too,” Ming Lou continues. He shifts his grip to
run his fingers lightly over Ming Tai’s balls, and then presses the pads of his
fingers further back—
Ming Tai’s eyes slam shut and he makes this awful high-pitched sound. Even his
scalp is buzzing with pleasure.
“Sorry,” Ming Lou says, though he doesn’t sound apologetic at all. “I didn’t
mean to make you suffer.”
He wraps his hand around Ming Tai’s cock again, occasionally skimming his thumb
over the tip or around the base of the head, and Ming Tai bites his lip so hard
he tastes blood. He’d be scared if this were anyone but his older brother. As
it is, he feels like he’s a string pulled taut, about to snap, like he wants
Ming Lou to stop and never stop at the same time. There’s a needle-sharp bolt
of sensation that shoots straight from his cock to his brain, new and yet
somehow familiar.
Abruptly, he draws his knees together and squirms, pushing feebly against Ming
Lou’s chest as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.
“Wait, stop—stop—I think—I feel like I have to pee—”
“It’s okay,” Ming Lou reassures him, pushing his legs apart once more. He
cradles Ming Tai’s head to his chest and presses a kiss to his hair.
Ming Tai opens his mouth in a silent cry as his orgasm slams into him, one wave
after another like a storm at sea, and he clings to Ming Lou’s pajama shirt,
helpless to do anything but let it roll through him. Ming Lou murmurs words of
encouragement against his hair until the last pulse of it passes and Ming Tai
slumps against him.
Ming Tai attempts to breathe and makes a wet hiccuping noise instead. He
laughs, and Ming Lou joins in.
Ming Lou presses another kiss to the top of his head and retrieves a towel to
clean up. He doesn’t bring up making Ming Tai go back to his own room, so Ming
Tai doesn’t either—he’ll ride this wave of goodwill as far as it will take him.
When Ming Lou returns, Ming Tai curls up against him again, tucked against his
chest just as he was before.
“Now we can sleep, can’t we?” Ming Lou says.
Ming Tai nods. He lets the sounds of his brother’s breathing and the storm
outside lull him to sleep, so he’s not sure if he’s dreaming when he hears Ming
Lou’s voice one more time, so low and soft that he might just be imagining it.
“No more bad dreams. I’m here.”
Ming Tai just smiles and burrows closer. The storm outside fades to a steady
patter, and he sleeps better than he’s slept in years.
End Notes
     Ming Tai really seems like the clingy sort, and Ming Lou the
     overprotective sort, and this just kind of happened. I swear every
     time I sit down to write Disguiser fic, I end up writing porn
     somehow. Sorry?
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