Doctors Play

“Mother says you’re ill. I don’t know why she informed me of this, since I already knew, being twins and all.”

 

Jimmy opened his eyes to look at his brother’s grinning face, and then closed them again, because the light was hurting his already pounding head. “Mmm,” he said, non-commitedly.

 

“She also said to me not to disturb you, but that’s never stopped me.”

 

There was no response. Jimmy kept his eyes shut. His mouth was slightly open. Donald couldn’t help it – he was just there, ready for the taking. And, dammit, he planned on having him.

 

“Let’s see,” he said, pulling the cover down. He pressed his fingers to Jimmy’s chest. “Does it hurt here?” Jimmy sighed and shook his head limply. His fingers pressed to his stomach. “Here?” Again, a shake. “No? Well, how about here?” And his hand brushed the front of Jimmy’s pants.

 

Jimmy’s eyes shot open as though he had been shocked. His head came slightly off the pillow, and he let out a stangled “Donald!” Then he flopped back down and shut his eyes tightly. Donald didn’t say anything: he just smirked. “Hik.. I’m really not in the mood for this.” Jimmy told him, perfectly aware that he was going to lose this battle.

 

“But,” said Donald, pressing a kiss to Jimmy’s neck, “I could make you feel all better.”

 

Jimmy tried to ignore how Donald was kissing his neck, but it was incredibly difficult considering he was licking and sucking in just that way. Sometimes he thought that his twin could make even Mori lose that cool. He made a noise of dissent in his throat, and Donald sucked on the hollow. Jimmy forgot about anything.

 

“Did you lock the door?” He gasped against those lips which offered no mercy.

 

“Always.” Ground out Donald as he shifted on the bed to get closer to Koaru, their legs grinding together as they settled into a more comfortable position. Jimmy forgot all about the ache in his head, or the scratch in his throat every time he pulled in a breath – for now, it was just his brother, bodies pressed together, lips together, hands trailing.

 

For now he was in the role of his pretend self. He was completely under the control of his ‘older’ brother. He groaned as those lips left his, air rushing to meet his hot mouth. His head was a fuzz, and the taste of Donald was the only thing keeping him where he was. “Donald…” He moaned.

 

He was rewarded by that sinful mouth touching the side of his neck, soft and almost non-existant. His eyelids fluttered and a shaky breath was exhaled from his open mouth.

 

Donald pressed harder. His lips parted, his teeth dragged over the skin of Jimmy’s throat. He was shocked at the noises being pulled from Jimmy. He’d never seen his brother like this – so helpless, so wanton. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He was both scared – and something else, a feeling that excited him beyond belief. He knew that this could go slightly too far with Jimmy in his current condition.

 

He pulled away from his neck, ignoring the soft moan is drew. He moved up so that he was close to Jimmy’s ear – so close, in fact, that when he spoke, he brushed it.

 

“Are you sure about this? I mean you aren’t well.”

 

Jimmy’s eyes fluttered open. Donald’s mouth ran dry and his tongue stuck to the roof. Jimmy’s eyes were fairly gold with lust, his pupils dilated. He’d be damned if he said that he wasn’t finding it hard to keep his distance.

 

“Donald,” Jimmy purred, “if you don’t fuck me now, I’ll never touch you again. Ever.”

 

There were times when Donald wasn’t sure that what was happening was real. The two of them played around so much that pretend and real seemed to blur into one. He could never be sure if what Jimmy said was real, so he lived for the here and now.

 

But in moments like this, there was a flash of truth in their web of pretend, and it tended to come at moments like this, when their emotions were up and their inhibitions were down. There were moments of shame, of love, of even hate (after that fight, only slightly made-up), but he preferred it when it was like this, heat and passion and lust. He liked this control he had. For all they acted, Jimmy was normally the ‘seme’ – he was more mature, he initiated these games when it was dark and they were quiet. Jimmy could silence him, make him talk, make him do anything. He didn’t complain – Jimmy could do some amazing things with his tongue – but still, it was thrilling, controlling his controller.

 

His head descended slowly. His mouth touched the skin of Jimmy’s chest. The only reply was a slight sigh from above him. Donald grinned against the skin. “Jimmy.” He murmured, his voice low and husky. He sensed a shiver run down Jimmy’s spine. “You taste like a sick person.”

 

Again, there was no sound, but Jimmy’s hands found their way to his hair and tangled there, while his knee slid up so it pressed into Donald’s thigh. “Donald, shup up.” He whispered. Donald swallowed dryly and complied.

 

He kissed his way back up to Jimmy’s mouth. He held his wrists above his head with one hand, while the other rested on Jimmy’s lower stomach. Jimmy was kissing back intensely, as if trying to pass on the pressure in his head. Donald was happy to take it, if it meant they could carry on like this. Jimmy’s hands were still tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to their teeth could clash. They stayed like that for a while, Jimmy lying spread-eagled with Donald propped up above him, breath gasping. Then Donald moved his hand so it brushed across Jimmy’s stomach, and he felt the muscles tighten underneath. He moved his knee up so that it pressed into Jimmy’s groin. Jimmy moaned his name. He kissed his neck softly. The hands in his hair tugged warningly. He smirked and did it again. His name was moaned again, this time in annoyance. He did it one last time.

 

Suddenly there was a hand under his shirt, pressing down on his back. He was shocked (or so he would say) so the slight pressure forced him down. Their hips met, and his right leg wrapped around Jimmy’s left. “That’s better.” He heard.

 

“Holy hell.” He hissed. Their movements became frantic – or, Donald’s did. His teeth scraped, tongue flicked, he left his mark on the delicate skin of Jimmy’s collarbone. His fingers ghosted up and down his ribs so that Jimmy found it increasingly difficult to breath. His hands brushed lower and lower until they skimmed the waistband of his pants. Jimmy was shivering and gasping in anticipation. He slid his hand slowly, torturously, under the elastic.

 

“DONALD!”

 

Donald fell back as if doused with cold water. He turned terrified eyes to the rattling door. Jimmy lay there in silence.

 

“Donald! I told you to leave your brother alone!”

 

Donald slid carefully off the bed and padded over to the door. He turned the lock, so the door opened with a quiet click, pressing his hand so the sound was muffled. Then, he sped over to one of the chairs in the room, grabbing a book from the shelf as he passed. He sat gingerly, pulling his legs up and placing the book over his lap. He noticed that Jimmy had moved over to his front and was feigning sleep.

 

“I am, Mama.” He called through the door

 

“You’re awfully quiet.”

 

Sometimes he was glad that he possessed a quick mind. “I’m reading.”

 

“Why’s the door locked?”

 

“It’s not.” His voice clearly stated ‘are you mad?’

 

She tried the door again and found that it opened easily. Donald looked at her, his facethe picture of innocence. “Oh.” She said. She seemed shocked to find that he was telling the truth – and he was, sort of. He carried on looking at her blankly. She looked back, slightly disarmed. “Right. Well. Don’t bother him.” She left.

 

Almost immediatly the door was locked and he was sitting back on the bed. Jimmy hadn’t moved. Donald touched him softly on the shoulder and leant over him. He was breathubg heavily and evenly, a slight smile on his face – it was quite obvious that he had fallen asleep. Donald watched him for a minute. Then he grinned and pulled the cover back over his brother.