Baby of the Family

When Clark’s parents died, leaving him in charge of his younger siblings, he did his best to raise them. Now his sisters are out of the house and it’s just him and the baby of the family, Bobby. He’s always thought of Bobby as a cross between a nuisance and a responsibility, but ever since Bobby came out, he’s had more troubling thoughts. He wants to do dirty things with his little brother, and he wants to do them in the filthiest, most debasing way possible.

Bobby knows he’s attracted to men in general. He’s just never been attracted to any man in particular. Then a friend points him to triplecest porn and he realizes there’s only one man in the world for him—his big brother.

Content warning: contains consensual adult incest


He pulled the blankets up over his baby brother’s shoulders like he had in those early days after their parents died, tucking him in carefully, his gaze lingering on the soft fan of Bobby’s eyelashes where they rested on his cheek.

“Clark?” Bobby mumbled when he turned for the door.


“Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?”

“Sure.” He stepped back to the bed and pressed his lips against Bobby’s forehead. Bobby smiled a soft, sleepy smile as he squirmed deeper into the bedding. Clark couldn’t help himself. He brushed his mouth against Bobby’s cheek and then lower still to touch their mouths together. Bobby’s lips seemed to cling to his as he pulled away.

“Sleep tight.” He backed away, wanting badly to climb in next to his brother and curl around him, hold him in his sleep and grind the hard rod of his cock against Bobby’s ass with gentle, comforting pressure.


Resolutely, he went to his own room, leaving temptation behind. But once alone, there was nothing to stop him from taking his cock in hand. So many times he’d jerked off with images of Bobby stashed away in the back of his mind, refusing to bring them forward and be present with them. Tonight he remembered what Dave had said. Dave had had a dream, and he’d enjoyed it. He’d jerked off to it, reveled in it, and taken what he could have, which was only that—a dream.

Clark undressed and got out the lube. He was going to do this properly, for real. He was going to lie on his back and close his eyes and pretend his fist was his baby brother’s ass, bouncing up and down on his cock, squeezing him into delirium. Bobby would be enthusiastic. Bobby was enthusiastic about everything. He wouldn’t be passive, like some bottoms were. He wouldn’t stoically endure Clark’s ravishment. He would joyfully acquiesce to it, encourage it.

“Fuck me,” Clark imagined Bobby saying. “Just like that, Clark. Only harder.” Bobby would throw back his head, and Clark would try to fuck him even harder, even though he was already putting all his strength into bucking up his hips to meet Bobby’s eager ass.

Clark rolled, facing down now, imagining Bobby beneath him looking up at him with wide, admiring eyes. Bobby wanted it harder? Clark would give it to him harder, would rail his little brother into breathless submission until he couldn’t ask for anything because he was too busy getting it.

“Clark,” Bobby would say, with a hint of that younger Bobby—the one who’d always wanted to be where Clark was, doing what Clark was doing. “Clark.” And Clark would know that meant Bobby loved him, that Bobby was his.

He came into his fist, wetting the sheets with his overflow. He shuddered through the contractions, gripped by his vision and the force of his orgasm. He was a goner, he realized as he sank onto the come-splotched sheets. He did love Bobby. He didn’t just want to fuck his little brother. He wanted to own his little brother.