FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Testing the Goods

---

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Mirath

_ _

_ _

“Oh, Donnie, Donnie, Donnie… Would you look at what I’ve done?”

And, truly, it was impressive what a few short years could accomplish – all thanks to the plans that Donnie had, of course, filched neatly from Jaunt’s system when he’d been busying himself with leeching what information he needed to get the authorities involved. Involving the law or, at least, setting someone up to fall into their path was risky enough but they’d had more than enough time to ensure that their tracks were good and covered (not that he made any sort of habit out of leaving a trail) while enjoying themselves a little behind Jaunt’s desk too. Donnie swallowed minutely, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes fixed on the pile of drugs, ready to go through sorting and testing and then, undoubtedly, out to their distribution chain, the men on the ground who would do the dirty work that they, surely, were far, far above. It was easier, after all, to stay out of the line of fire.

Crystal meth. Simple and, yet, intrinsically beautiful. The underground room just outside the bounds of the city in a warehouse building that all records and people passing by only knew as for storage (and would find it storing perfectly asinine items too) and the perfect place to hide what they would have to send out onto the straights. Jaunt’s plans had, truly, been extensive even if he didn’t have the right head on his shoulders to actually head off out and distribute it, too hasty and angry and altogether rushed in an operation that should have remained more covert than it had. No, the fallen tech giant had gone into shame and disrepute, on the run where there were only rumours of where he was with the law hot on his tail. Either way, John and Donnie wouldn’t be having any further trouble for him again – not with just how effectively they had, step by step, dismantled his operation and lifted the plans he’d thought would take him into a new age of greed and wealth.

John smirked, one eyebrow cocked. It was funny how the tables turned. So funny, in fact, that he just about felt like another drink to celebrate, despite Jaunt’s downfall being quite some time ago now. There never needed to be any big reason for a celebration though when his whole life was a celebration.

Clearing his throat quietly but deliberately (all that he needed to do), Donnie shook his head and rapped a pen against his clipboard. Maybe some would have found it funny that the pen in question was nothing more than a cheap biro but something fancier would have felt out of place amongst piles and piles of illegal drugs. Better to stick to the hard and fast, the tried and tested, when it came right down to it. And a dirty, cheap biro was just the ticket for a seedy sort of job that made his skin tingle and crawl in a peculiar mixture of disgust and anticipation.

“All that you’ve done?” Donnie snorted and shook his head, although he eyed John speculatively out of the corner of his eye, watching but not actively looking. “I think you’re forgetting a key component of the operation.”

And his brother smirked all the more widely, tapping a finger against the side of his nose. As alike as they were different, John’s more confident and powerful stature, despite his slim build, came with black hair that he had dictated be trimmed back to his shoulders with the coming of the warmer months. It was hardly something that bothered him all that much (maintaining any style, really, was a waste of time and he’d rather have someone else to take care of all of that crap for him) but Donnie had had to make just a few little quips about how he didn’t have as much hair to yank and pull during...well… They did not make a secret between themselves of the things they got up to behind closed doors and sometimes even out in public but not all that many would have paired Donnie’s slighter and more delicate build, lithe like a weasel, with John, thinking them brothers from the get-go. It helped a little that Donnie had brown hair, taking after their mother rather than their father, like Charles and John both did, but they were different enough in their styles and attitudes to, at least, not pass for brothers when out in public.

The undercurrent of sexual tension was always there, however, and it truly was a miracle in itself that they had managed to keep things quiet and under wraps for so long. Being in the background of the operation, even when it had ratcheted up several steep notches all at once, had helped at least some, but neither of them were really ones to put themselves in the limelight, even when they wanted the praise and wealth to flow their way. Sure, John was more susceptible to dramatics and a show than Donnie was but even he was too lazy to really mess up all that badly: at least one mistake of Jaunt’s that John with the arrogant tilt to his head was sure to avoid like the plague.

So, he could learn. Yet his eyes still roamed with a hungry lust behind them, greed coming in many forms. It was not, after all, merely for the chasing down of a high that could come or go intermittently as it pleased or even the money ramping up in many of his well-protected offshore bank accounts (arranged by Donnie, of course, who knew the ins and outs of that better than him) but the lust for another human being and, truth be told, few had taken his fancy in the time since Jaunt’s downfall. It was a good thing that Donnie was there to satisfy them, a strange power play existing between them where John was, of course, always the one on top. That was where he thought he should be and, although Donnie may have pushed his luck when John was under the influence of even their own product from time to time, it had all come back around to him being the one on the floor, getting pounded in the ass or the mouth: either was good.

John, however, was not privy to Donnie’s train of thought, imagining still that he was the centre of attention. Why, after all, should anyone not pay him the attention that he was due? It went without saying to such an extent that the thought simply did not even cross his mind and he stood in the very centre of the room surveying what he had created, the dull, grey walls and stacked boxes not truly paying homage to the empire of the resurrected.

“How’s it feel to be second hand to the king then, Donnie?” John laughed, turning in a circle with his arms flung wide, the windowless room containing a solid portion of his so-called kingdom. “All this… On top where we should be. Of course, I’m the head, but I’ll still keep you along, if only to hold my clipboard.”

It was a taunt at best but Donnie had heard it all before and, well, there had to be a line between what was cruel and what was purely brotherly jest. Not even blinking, he gave John a carefully calculated look that conveyed just the right amount of polite confusion that was required, sealing his humour away behind the mask. If John really did believe that, maybe he’d have to take off for a while to see just how well (or not, most likely) he did on his own, but he didn’t think that he’d like to see what he’d worked so many hours on crumble in the hands of an oaf.

Not that he would call John an oaf though. That may result in…certain things happening that may very well make it all worth the pain and the soreness that would come with the sinful pleasure.

When he did not get the response he wanted, John frowned and shook his head slowly, eyes half-lidded.

“Small Donnie… Has the cat got your tongue? Or perhaps the burglar ran away with it in the night?”

“Are you high or something?” Donnie shot back, lips pressed together. “Coming out with things like that, I’ll start thinking you’ve gotten into the product. And we won’t make money if it’s not sold.”

He stated it plainly, just as a fact. It needed to be nothing more than that, in all honesty, and got the point across to John who smoothed his hair back into place with the flat of his hand, his usual little smile on his face as if he knew that he could not be bested. Maybe the day would come where he was pushed off his own, self-made pedestal but it had not yet arrived, which was something that only time would tell the truth of.

Yet there was clearly something to be on with as Donnie glanced down at the clipboard, holding only sheets of lined paper. He doubted that John had placed them there himself and had probably instead taken them from an underling. Maybe he’d be looking for his clipboard later. It didn’t matter.

“So, what exactly have you dragged me down here to do today?” He said with a small roll of his eyes, only enough that a discerning eye would notice the distaste ringing through his tone and stance alike. “With all going in and out… Well, I have to put it in layman’s terms for you, John, just so you will actually understand, but I was up all night working on this.”

Not that he minded, of course, being up all night. Anyone who really did know Donnie knew what a night owl he was, doing some of his best work in the wee hours of the morning, even though many could have disagreed with the term ‘work’ when it came down to criminal activity. It was still a means of acquiring money at the end of the day or even the end of the night, something that funnelled income from the bank accounts of other people, both big and small, to fund their illicit operation.

Well, it wasn’t as if the cash was going to come out of their pockets, now, was it?

“Sure thing, Small Donnie, always the busy little bee… But I thought that maybe you could take a break from your hard-done life and sleeping through the day to do a little product testing.”

It was Donnie’s turn to raise his eyebrows, rocking back on his heels and exhaling sharply.

“The new batch? You know what happened on the last testing.”

Of course, with all drugs there was the possibility for side-effects – other than the intended high, that was. And the memory was all too fresh in Donnie’s mind of how one man who they had had to make quietly disappear, wiping all record of him from digital or tangible existence, after he, essentially, ‘went crazy’. Maybe he would have come around okay from it in the end but a drug that held an effect on the system for more than a few hours, well, that was hardly something that one wanted to trifle with if they wanted anything at all good to come of their venture. Meth addicts were into some serious shit and one only had to walk down the streets on the shadier side of town to tell just what effect their self-made empire was having on the world around them – not that they would have wanted to end up themselves with such sallow and broken skin, teeth yellowing and eyes dead and vacant, lusting after only the next high.

And just how Mack had screamed and beat at his own body, clawing at skin that was already bloodied as John, too calmly, called for security… That was something that no man with any sense in him was going to forget in a hurry. Although, John was more reckless than most so, in Donnie’s mind, it was entirely possible that the whole sorry incident had been forgotten entirely too.

Yet Donnie could not and that called him to hesitate, wary at the best of times and waiting to see just what an outcome would bring before he jumped in himself. No one could say, after all, that it had not served him well over the years.

“Yes, Donnie, but this is different.”

Of course, John brushed it aside with a smile that could have been charming if Donnie did not already know intimately just what fangs lay behind it.

“Fine… I assume what you need is on hand?”

John grinned.

“Yes… But that’s because you’re going to be the one testing this time, not me. Don’t want to actually go and get ourselves addicted now, do we?”

Donnie baulked, visibly pulling away from his brother and shaking his head. He hadn’t missed either how the ‘you’ changed to a ‘we’ as John played his usual game, intent only on cajoling his brother into something that he’d really rather not undertake. Who cared, really, what the side-effects were when they were sending the money makers and tried and tested strains out onto the streets anyway? Where the care and compassion for other human beings should have been in both his heart and his mind there was only another section of his brain roped off to calculate and speculate, working on new plans and schemes in the background at all times. He cared not for what happened to those that became addicted and consumed, which was just why he kept his own use, if for entertainment purposes and that exhilarating buzz, out of the realm of what one could consider addiction.

The clawing ache in the back of his mind, however, that hankered for his next hit… Well, that was something that he chose to ignore. Just as long as he could.

“No… No, just no.”

He did not elaborate, stating it flatly with the clipboard levelled at his brother as if the frame of it would further serve to exacerbate his point. John stared at him and, for the briefest of moments, Donnie did think that he was struck dumb by his refusal.

“You know I can make you, right?”

And there it was: the command sway of dominance and aggression rising up like a serpent rearing its head, looming from where it had only just been lurking in the darkness. And maybe the serpent had known just when to appear in the curve of his lips, the swagger and the bravado that came from a sense of always, irrefutably, believing that he was in the place that he had always been meant to be in, towering over everyone else. That was why points of power were set so high, skyscrapers reaching for the sky in ever-greater heights to show the wealth behind them, all that the mastermind behind them had to offer.

John too knew just how to work it, advancing step by slow step as if he was walking towards Donnie entirely by coincidence, his head even turned at an angle to look at the stock, the oversized bags stuffed full, although they would all need to be measured out by others in their operation, as he would never stoop so low as to do the grunt work. That was why Donnie had needed to leech so much money (even his card reader had not been able to do that task for the capital they required) from discreet and open accounts right from the start as there was no way that John was going to do any leg work in the slightest that he felt or thought was beneath his position.

But John… Oh, John. Donnie swallowed and yet tried to keep it discreet, shuffling onto his heels even as his torso tipped back and away from his brother, John standing over him. He would not yield, would not move, but the give and take was, most certainly, running in one direction and one alone as John took hold of his elbow, the electric touch of heat searing through his skin and shirt, which had been rolled back to the elbows, enough to make Donnie jerk and gasp, however minutely.

“Do you want me to make you, Donnie?” He breathed, tone already low and sensual for the man that he was. “There are so many ways that I could break you if I wanted to. Do you want me to demonstrate them for you? I think you’d be surprised.”

But Donnie would not be surprised as John was not one to come up with new and interesting ideas when it came to something they really should not have been doing together, striving to keep his mind as calm and as fluid as possible. It could not be helped, however, that his aching cock simply wanted to rise to the occasion as it always did, everything pulsing and swelling like clockwork, as much as he willed it not to. With his heart in his mouth, he grunted thickly and turned the other cheek, biting his tongue even as he desperately tried to think about something else other than how damn close John was.

He knew just what effect he had on him, however, and merely smirked as he rolled away as if that had been his intention all the wild, his long-legged stride more of a glide than anything else as if he moved without expending any effort at all. Exhaling in a rush, Donnie cursed inwardly and tugged at the sides of his shirt, underarms damp and clammy in the worst of ways.

Damn it…

_ _

“Look, it’s just not a good idea,” he said, trying to appeal to what better nature John may or may not have had (it was up for debate). “Things have happened… We’re in too high a position now to be fucking around with this shit. We’ve got too much in the air, too many cards on the table. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

Yet not even Donnie was entirely sure of what he was saying, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, their rush to spill from his lips quickening their demise, the crumbling of his resistance. Had there ever really been any resistance to begin with? It was debatable as he swayed, fumbling and grasping for words that slipped through his fingers like water, the fine grains of powder that could be boiled or smoked or packed in good and tight and deep…

No… He gulped and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, fading quicker and quicker with every passing moment. He couldn’t think like that. They hadn’t done it in a while and yet…and yet he wanted to, still, like a drug in his system that he couldn’t get free. Or maybe it was the addiction of it too, driving his breath too short, panting gasps that he did his very best to conceal, half-turning away with the surliest look that he could manage to put on his admittedly delicate face. Even Donnie knew that he was not very convincing, however, and shuffled his feet, suddenly too hot under the collar for any modicum of comfort.

“And you seriously think I’m going to be able to take notes with this,” he indicated the clipboard with a nod of his head, “when I’m all drugged up? It’ll be worse than your fucking chicken scratch.”

John’s lips turned down and he shrugged, turning away as if to make a point of not facing his brother. What the essence of the point was, however, still remained to be seen and Donnie swallowed his words, biding his time, as he always did, until all became clear. It was just another difference that lay between the two brothers, one cautious and calm while the other, well…charged in like a bull at all times, blowing and snorting and kicking for the ultimate destruction of all around him.

He just liked watching someone’s kingdom fall.

“If you’re not going to take it yourself, it’ll have to be me then,” John said matter-of-factly as if there could be no other option in the scenario laid out before them, needing to test and have a test subject too. “Someone has to test it and, well, we both know who really has the balls here, don’t we?”

It was a dig but not one that stung as John stood before him, that devastating grin on his face with a hint of delirium behind it – or was it insanity? Someone had to be some level of insane, after all, to go for serious criminal activity and maybe it was that insanity that had sent his laziness packing, at least in part. For he was no longer the man he had once been, chest rising and falling sharply as he honed in on his prey, an arm sliding around his brother’s waist as he drew him in close, chests pressed together with no longer even a sliver of distance between them. Donnie sucked in a breath, eyes wide and breath bated, caught up in the spell of the moment.

“I… You can’t…”

Yet what kind of protest was that? Wispy and weak and frail, it came out without any substance behind it and, as he always did, John knew with a smirk in that instant alone that he had won.

“Come on, Donnie,” he breathed, lips very close to his brother’s ear, breath caressing even as his hand slipped lower, down to his hip and across in front of his body. “A little time, just you and me… You want this.”

Donnie swallowed hard, heart in his mouth. And he could not deny the thick, throbbing rise of his shaft, his length called to John’s attention as it always did – just like John’s control over him. Of course, he would never admit to it but it was there all the while and it had become something more, although that something more most certainly wasn’t anything that any normal person would call a relationship of any kind beyond a tentative familial one. They didn’t know what they were and, as John’s hand groped and squeezed the fat bulge in his jeans, pressed up so close that he had to push and worm his hand down in between their bodies, that was okay too.

They didn’t have to know.

John dominated the kiss, wrapping thick clumps of Donnie’s hair around his fingers as he dragged him in against his body, hard and lean and wiry to the last. Pain seared through Donnie’s scalp but he did not have it in himself to care, inhaling sharply through his nostrils before surrendering in the next moment and melding the shape of his body, his very essence, to that kiss, tongue flittering weakly up against John’s, for John was far too hard and driving to allow the lust of a kiss to play evenly between their mouths.

Chests rising and falling rapidly, out of time, they broke the kiss and John was already moving, the battle won and the thrill of the hunt well and truly upon him. Paraphilia was present throughout most of their facility, as there was usually some kind of use for it, and a counter set into the far wall beside the stacks of neat boxes and bags of shimmering crystal provided all that he needed to get started. To Donnie’s surprise, however, and a twist of distaste in his lips, it was a syringe and a needle that John retrieved, rather than foil and implements of burning, his gut plummeting and the room tilting sickeningly just at the sight of them. It should have been something commonplace to him but some things could not be quelled and softened as much as he tried to make them so in his own mind.

“Really…” He grimaced and swallowed, although there was little moisture left in his mouth to actually move his tongue. “I thought we were done with that. We’re not like the druggies on the street corners now. Can’t you smoke this one?”

Yet he knew that he too was going to be roped in as a pre-prepared syringe glistened with sickening temptation, the buzzing overhead light glancing off the plastic with a demonising glare. It was not just John who was going to be drugged up and hopped up on the new strain, always taking any chance to test a new one out even though the risks were known to all and even more so to someone at his level, but Donnie too. Small Donnie who loved the high and the intoxication but not the come-down, the hankering and itching, skin crawling, for more that he feared would render him sallow-faced and haggard before his time

Better to sink into addictions that would not render him less than he was. Like John. John was a better addiction, even if a strange one.

“Smoking, well…” John grimaced. “Wouldn’t want to stink up my clothes, now, would I? I may be off out on a hot date tonight, a boy toy just looking to get something hard up in him.”

Donnie rolled his eyes weakly and laughed, although he could not find the energy in himself to raise his voice to any considerable volume, falling under the radar as always. Yet that did not matter to John who knew him well enough to know the reaction and understand it too as he wrapped a thick shoelace around his brother’s arm, readying the syringe at the same time.

And all Donnie could think as the needle stabbed through skin into the vein that would have made itself known to John, even if it was not already pulsing noticeably and visibly through the comparatively thin barrier of his skin, was how intimate the act was. More so than a kiss and more so than fucking, the rough and hard and readiness of sex, his fingers brushed his skin as if with a tender touch, brow ever so slightly furrowed in concentration. Maybe he would not have been so careful if he was injecting an underling, someone in their operation at a lower level, but that would have come with greater flair for the dramatics still and a display of power and thrill that would quell anyone who may or may not have had any sort of curiosity about the background boss who dealt in the shadows.

No. When they were drugging up, it was just him and John and those moments, perhaps, could be the most precious of all in hindsight, for not a soul could truly know when it would all come to an end, when their kingdom would fall, crumbling down to the ground as if it had never existed. Would they get to the real top of the game or fall down like broken kings, hand in hand and eyes narrowed against the dark of the night when there was no new day to be had? His heart pounded, mouth dry, and the needle pushed in, the bite of pain stronger than it should have been for such a slender and so very sharp sliver of metal, Donnie sucking in a breath that his brother surely noticed.

“Don’t be a wuss.”

And he did not intend to be but the needle made his head spin all the same, vision turning a sickening tint of grey as he heaved for breath and turned his face pointedly away as the bile, once again, rose up in the back of his throat. It had been too long since he had last eaten, however, busy and preoccupied with the highly important act of sleeping, and there was nothing in his stomach to vomit up, allowing him just a little touch of respite as John undid the lace and put the needle to the side, his job done for the time being.

Striving to cover up his moment of weakness, the vulnerability of coming back to himself when he was, well and truly, at the bottom rung only of the ladder of power between him and John, Donnie clenched his clipboard automatically, although he wished there was something on the sheets of paper to distract him. Better yet, an iPad or something of that ilk that he could busy himself with in scoring something real nice from a rich bastard’s account, a little payday that would keep them as well and in as good health as two criminals could be for months longer. Of course, that money could go into the supply chain too and the logistics of the operation but he had to reap the spoils of his own talents sometimes too, keeping up the lifestyle that he had, at some point, become accustomed to.

“There you go… Now, was that really so bad?” John grinned, although his tone carried not a single hint of reassurance or condolences with it. “A little prick… Well, I don’t have a lollipop for you, Small Donnie, but I have something you can suck here if you’re a good boy…”

That was about as far as he’d ever heard John go with his teasing and even Donnie had to chuff a broken sort of laugh, imagining with a distinct sense of unease mingled with erratic anticipation that he could feel the drug working its way through his system. Of course, John was only making his form of conversation as he was preparing to inject himself too, oddly taking the time to do it himself rather than passing the equipment off to Donnie to do the honours. Two kings of the castle were not on equal levels, however, and Donnie kept his lips pressed together quietly as John quickly and skilfully took care of himself, exhaling slowly with his lips parted as the crystal entered his system sweetly and systematically, every last little twitch and movement of his body cunningly calculated.

Quiet. That was unlike them but, somehow, just how it was meant to be as John set all aside, both of them knowing that someone else could be the one to clear up the mess afterwards. Now, all they had to do was wait and try to record what happened, whether or not anything bad was noted or not. They could only wait and see, silence stretching out between them, alternating between tension and thrumming, delectable anticipation.

Strangely too, it was Donnie that broke the silence.

“You better have something else to record this then,” Donnie said, sitting down slowly with his back to the wall, regretting belatedly not insisting on a chair or something, although it probably would not matter once the drug itself kicked in. “I’m not…hm…writing any of this down…”

John smirked and flopped down beside him, somehow managing to fold his legs up in perfect time so that he still retained a sense of gangly grace, shoulders relaxed and an eyebrow raised.

“Yes… Didn’t you see the cameras? My, oh, oh, Donnie, you’re losing your touch…”

“Like hell, I am, dick.”

“Well, if you insist…”

And then John was on him, not even waiting for permission – hey, it was automatically given anyway – as their lips crushed together, teeth catching sensitive flesh and not even caring. It was a crude, sloppy sort of kiss that would never again leave room on the lips of either of them, Donnie grunting thickly in the back of his throat as he struggled and strived to give as good as he got, head moving slowly even as he thought he imagined the effects taking hold. It often caught him by surprise when it hit and he clenched and unclenched the fingers of his dominant hand reflexively, searching for the throbbing drive of excitement and energy that was surely only just around the corner.

It ramped up as John thrust him to the floor, rolling as they traded places until he was, of course, rendered on top once more, the hard linoleum or whatever it was hardly comfortable against angular shoulder blades and hips and knees. Yet that was none of John’s concern as he hastily ripped Donnie’s shirt down the front, at least a few buttons springing off in all directions, and Donnie cursed loudly, the hissing rush of breath tickling his brother’s face, too close to his as he heaved and gasped.

“Fuck… Donnie…”

Yet that was all he seemed able to get out, grinding and arching his back as he moaned and rubbed the bulge of his shaft against Donnie’s even through the barrier of their jeans, the dark and stiff cloth not yielding as much sensation as either of them would have liked. Yet that didn’t stop his shaft from drooling pre-cum, twitching and throbbing in raw excitement, lust coming above all else when it came right down to the wiles and rights of a body that wanted what it wanted. Gasping, Donnie shook his head, fighting to not moan out too loudly, not to give up every last bit of his control too soon, although he had not the strength of mind to push away John’s hands, welcoming them on him as they swept over his chest, the light definition of muscle there that could have, truly, have been more than it actually was. He had no inclination for going to the gym, however, like that odd soul that had taken up with Charles (rarely seen, he was of none of their concern in the grand scheme of things) and any change in his physique was unlikely to come, even though John had never complained. Most likely because his physical lack of strength (he’d hesitate to phrase it as weakness himself) just made him all the easier to pin down and dominate. And, sometimes, it was nice too to not have a fuck be a challenge.

All moved quickly, shuddering from one scene to another as Donnie opened and closed his mouth over and over again, the stream of consciousness unable to render itself in speech as if he had been muted. What was wrong? Why couldn’t he talk? And yet talking was underrated entirely as John got his jeans off, shoes kicked aside and one sock half-on half-off as if he was a teenager all over again experiencing his clumsy first time. Even then he would have laughed at himself but the lump in his throat and pounding, driving breath raking through his lungs as if it was a great struggle to breathe made it impossible to do so.

His cock in John’s hand. The pump and the squeeze. For a moment, his drug-addled mind thought, wrongly, of course, that John was about to give him head, but it was all merely a ploy and a jaunt at control, squeezing drop after drop of pre-cum from him, although he was not as productive as some studs that he had engaged with during his life. Sexual prowess was all well and good but it was better to be fucked by one rather than be one himself. There was too much pressure there, pressure to perform and do better, and he’d prefer to just be working on things that got him somewhere, the pressure to ensure a comfortable, easy life for himself at all times.

Gasping, he clenched his fist, the injection site on his arm aching, perhaps already bruising. He didn’t look.

Yes, better to enjoy than to be, to do and to force and to drive, drive, drive. John would agree? Yes, yes, yes – of course, he would! He always agreed! He knew what was what, what was up and what was not what it seemed! The rush of energy had him up on his knees, fumbling for his brother as he groped for John’s belt too, the belt that had been around his neck on so many occasions, a play on power that he ached for once again.

But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stay still, his clumsy attempts at hastening things along frazzling a broken mind, a mind that could not keep up either with itself or the twists of a body so pushed along a path that it could not withstand forever.

Hands fumbling, naked from the waist down… All in a blur, all moving too quickly for one mind to keep up with as desperately as his breath raked through his lungs over and over again. He could feel the blood rushing through his body, the tingle in his extremities not from cold, and the push of John’s body up against his as he slumped down to the floor, scrambling for purchase that would not come as his sock slid and he burst into a fit of giggles. Not quite the high he would go for himself but it was all good enough without the negative side-effects, surely?

Yet when his eyes landed on John again, his brother grasped for him, cock softening and chest heaving, although the wheeze that rolled from his lips with each and every breath was anything but reassuring.

“Uh…” Even the words, flustered and fumbling to break free in the eagerness of the high, would not come easily, thick and clunky in his mouth and on his lips. “John… John, are you…”

“This is all fucking wrong, Donnie, all fucking wrong…”

John cursed and spat, eyes wide and wild and bloodshot as he grabbed the torn front of Donnie’s shirt, lips parted with a sickening gleam of spittle on his lower one.

“John? John, snap out of it!”

But just telling someone to snap out of something surely had not had any positive effect in the history of ever telling someone to get it together and John only laughed, throwing his head back. Every muscle in his body seeming to jump tensely, staying in their rightful places with a judder and twitch that could not be concealed, his madness shining through as even his body throbbed beyond his stringent control.

“John!”

Hastily, though it was hard to think of anything else with his mind swelling and rising so very pleasantly on a high that seemed very, very different to John’s, he grabbed for the clipboard, too late to keep his brother safe or even protect him. And just what did he think he could do to keep John safe anyway? Sure, he’d come to his rescue time after time again but there was nothing he could do about a bad trip as John growled and thrust him away, leaping to his feet and pacing like a caged animal, something wild that had, all of a sudden, found itself trapped and snarling.

“No, no, no, no, no, it’s all going wrong, going wrong, going to lose it all,” he muttered loudly enough for Donnie to hear every word, swinging his head back and forth as if he was questing after an escape route. “Jaunt, all gone, gone – gone, gone, gone, gone, gone! And what now? What do we do now? They’re coming for us, they’re fucking coming for us, Donnie!”

How much had he fucking injected? Donnie cursed and lunged for his brother, shirt flapping, but he was too quick, too energetic, and shot right by him as John wheeled and roared, hair a dark mess around his face, a fallen angel’s halo that would never again find its rightful place atop his head. A crown of thorns, however, may have been more accurate for one who was no angel in his own right, a demon with blazing eyes that were still his natural dark shade and still somehow so very much more sinister than they ever had been before. If he’d worn a crown too, it was sure that he would be no king.

Too much, far too much! John clawed at him as he spun, howling and throwing his arms up to the sky, although there was no sky, no sky at all, just the ceiling that blinked and buzzed with that fucking accursed buzzingbuzzingbuzzing_buzzing_ light. What were they going to do about that light? Could he climb up there? Dangle from it? Yes, yes – he could fix it! Quick as anyone would like!

And yet that wasn’t possible with John hanging off him, dangling with limp legs as he clung to the collar of Donnie’s shirt and moaned out his need, sweating profusely as his skin glistened. For a moment, Donnie considered him the very image of a god, or a god of the underworld if he was to at least be accurate even in his heavily drugged mind, but he really was harshing his buzz and the younger brother frowned and grunted as he tried to disengage the one who had introduced him to the world of peaks and highs to begin with. It was funny how things happened like that but that had been very many years ago, a long while back…

“I need it! Now! Nownownownownow!”

That wasn’t like John but, then again, nothing was as he took a very bad trip, so bad, in fact, that Donnie would not have been entirely surprised if he had taken something more than just meth. Had it been more or just laced with something? What a fucking fool he was! He wasn’t going to stay on top for very long if he kept fucking around with his own system as he did! What a fucking fool, a fucking waste of time!

But that was just Donnie’s mind working against him, snarling and clawing at the interior of his skull as he inhaled sharply and staggered, conscious of the fact that he was tipping off-balance but not entirely sure what was happening either. The room around him alternately sped up and slowed down, his mind simply not at all in tune with reality, hardly standing and hardly falling, not really knowing at all what he was doing.

Yet he could not worry, no… Not at all. And there was the clipboard as he exhaled a breathy sigh and laughed, worries falling away like water off a duck’s back. Weren’t ducks cool? Duck, duck, goose – he should tell John that! The clipboard… Yes, yes, yes – the clipboard! They were supposed to be… No, what was he thinking? One thought was too much to hold onto and he giggled, lips moving in speech that he could not have repeated even in the immediate aftermath, ranting and rambling and spinning sweetly, exhilaratingly, as his brother howled and fought at the inner demons of his own mind.

But his brother was on him, groaning and grunting like some kind of feral creature himself, eyes wild and bloodshot, the pants coming from his lips unlike anything that Donnie could have honestly have said he’d seen before. Harsh and heady, Donnie moaned and pressed himself up against his brother, still only wearing his shirt, torn open, although he had lost that last sock at some point during the course of the testing. He wanted him! Was that so wrong? Ah, to hell with right or wrong – he was fucking high!

And, so, it was easy (far, far too easy, in fact) to tip back to the ground, not even registering what had to be an exceptionally solid impact and painful thump as his shoulder blades connected with the unyielding floor. John was on top of him then, his cock hard and throbbing again, although Donnie took a moment to lift his legs, neither of them really possessing enough control of their bodies to stand for what was to come. Like everything else, it was inevitable in its crudity and Donnie managed to get his legs up just in time as John cursed shakily and jabbed and thrust for his entrance, intent only on pleasure now that his twisted mind had switched onto a different track.

“Fuck… Fuck!”

Well, that was what they were going to do and Donnie’s lips moved in constant speech, although he didn’t manage to vocalise anything as John clumsily sank home, bringing Donnie’s shaft back to unexpected hardness. Ah, it would never fail to surprise him, even in the midst of riding such a high, just how John was able to do that to him, claiming him and slamming in with just the right force and depth to make his cock do that. It was as if, truly, he was just a puppet and John the puppeteer, the master of puppets in his finest hour, controlling all that lay before him in a twisted, broken world, his foot planted into a pile of skulls, the bones of all those who had thought to strike him down.

He’d never be struck down, hammering into his brother as Donnie cried out his lust, head rolling back even as John snarled. What was wrong with him? It was a bad trip, clearly, and not like what he was having, but what the hell was going on? Yet it was hard to cling to that thought and follow it through as wave after wave of pleasure wracked him, sensation ramping up into such an overload that he was seriously under threat of losing control of himself entirely, biting the inside of his cheek with a gnawing grind until the hot spill of metallic blood rushing around his teeth drew him back from the edge, just a little.

Of course, what control did he really think he had? John could pound him to a quick and hasty climax and he wouldn’t know what was happening, wouldn’t even be able to stop him. Something in Donnie’s chest lurched and he matched John’s growls with his own even as his brother’s thrusts became increasingly urgent, breaths so loud that they nearly drowned out the one who was his prey on the floor, John’s nails leaving sharp indents in Donnie’s shoulder that would surely take hours on hours to fade.

Yet what came next could not have been expected in any way or pre-mediated, rising up in Donnie’s gut with a sickening curl of dread that something had gone horribly, terribly awry at the crux of everything. John’s snarl cut through the clamour, the buzz, the thrill, with icy, sickening intent.

“Fuck…you!”

Donnie’s eyes snapped open but he was in no such position to defend himself as his brother’s hands closed around his throat, bearing down and applying extreme pressure. He only had a moment in which to consider his own word choice in that instant strange – hey, maybe he possessed even greater intelligence and eloquence when he was high? That was something he’d never thought about before! – before it all ramped up, darkly so. Sure, they’d trialled choking, pinning and the like before, even if Donnie had never, ever, not even once, given his express permission to do so. The conversation, after the first time, in an illicit relationship, well… It had never seemed that important to have. There’d never been any need to, his certainty in his place and need for something that made him feel alive even if it was taking something away for him – in his case, taking his control over his own body and placing it, quite firmly, in John’s cruel hands. It could be no other way but that didn’t stop him from fighting, kicking and writhing like a snake as he howled out too and pushed back with every ounce of strength he had in his body.

He couldn’t push up, however, as John’s face viciously contorted and he spat in his face, the spittle going wide, thankfully, and landing on the floor instead, even if that was not his immediate concern. No… Donnie’s mind was entrapped in the need to breathe, pain searing through his lungs as if it was following the lines of veins, all that carried the blood flow and oxygen from them to where it needed to be. His hand constricted and he closed it on John’s forearm, his other one… Where was it? No, it was pinned under John’s elbow as he twisted, almost down on the floor himself as even his thrusts slowed, grinding in hard and deep as he bared his teeth.

“Fucking… Fuck…”

But that was all he could get out himself as he choked his brother, Donnie’s struggles growing weaker and weaker, panic setting into a mind that should have, by far, been too under the influence to even know where he was, let alone what was happening to him. For a moment, he considered it the end – John really was going to choke him to death – and his heart pounded into overdrive, in his mind, resuming his frantic, desperate, clawing struggles but not really making much headway.

Slowly, bit by bit, he slumped to the floor, fingers losing their grip and both arms going weak, legs kicked out and splayed as John laughed like the madman he truly was. He could not have known what he was doing, how far he was going, the pressure he was putting onto his very own brother. But maybe all he could see was Donnie’s cock throbbing and pulsing pre-cum out quickly, so quickly, in fact, that it would have been completely untoward right then to assume that he wasn’t loving every last second of it.

And yet…he slipped down, lower and lower as if he was sinking into the floor itself. Donnie opened and closed his lips like a gaping fish, gasping out of water, and felt as such too, weakly flopping and shivering with the last breaths of that particular stream of consciousness. Even the fear fell away in the final moments, cooling his skin as calm enveloped him, warm and wanton and as soft as a blanket that sealed away every last ill-will of the world where it could never reach either of them ever again.

“John… John… John, stop…”

Yet no words came out, eyes wide and bulging, chest working and heaving for a life-giving drop of breath, the pressure on his throat too much, far, far too much. No man could last so long and he whimpered breathlessly as the image of John above him swam and shivered, greying out as he pulled back and away from the pain and pleasure of his own body, balanced on the very tip of orgasm.

And then he was gone, falling and falling and falling, down and down and down, into the blackness, spinning and twisting and turning as if he weighed nothing at all. Gone was the pressure on his throat but there was pressure all around now, holding him in place and throwing him about with a crude, cackling laugh, the demons in the darkness mocking him for striving for life.

“Stay with us,” they whispered, curling about him, their presence sinuously sensual in their brushes and caresses over his naked, trembling form. “It’s better here. Nothing else out there for you. There’s nothing more left.”

And then he was pulling away, up and up and out, without any conscious thought or decision, his body still very much prey to the wills of the demonic kings and princes around him, although they were all, very much, ones of darkness and the night. The pressure roared in his ears and he screamed without sound, gaping and gasping and thrust back into the light with a searing jolt that shocked his entire body.

Air! Blessed, fruitful, sweet air! Sucking in greedy, desperate breath after breath, Donnie heaved as he came to his senses, wildly glancing about for he had not the energy or presence of mind to actually move any muscle in his body besides the ones involved in breathing. John hunkered over him, hands pressed flat to the floor, and howled out his pleasure as he finally spent himself, rage clearly having subsided in lieu of a far sweeter pleasure that he could take without any manner of hindrance in his way. Semen marked Donnie’s stomach and he blinked down at himself, dumbfounded, as he realised too that his shaft was soft, the thought registering dimly in the back of his mind. Had he really climaxed to that?

There was no way to explore the thought further, cursing inwardly and sobering up, just a little, from his high. What he’d had must not have been what John had but it still was enough in his system – it lasted a long while, after all, which was the beauty of the drug when one was not an addict – and that eased the pain a little, the chemical-altering substance affecting his brain and nervous system. Yes, he knew all the technicalities and, in a moment of crystalline being, catalogued them all, the medical uses and effects, one by one.

That didn’t stop the pain from returning to his neck and chest as John finished inside him, climaxing with a thick, full-throated grunt, completely unaware of what he’d done. Hot breath rushed over Donnie’s face, rancid from whatever he’d had to smoke earlier, and Donnie could only be grateful that John hadn’t smoked up the crystal too, or else that would have been even more unpleasant. He shuddered, fingers moving weakly over his own stomach and lower abdomen into the splatters of cum that denoted his past enjoyment, anal ring sore and pulsating. Why did he focus on the strangest of things when he was high?

It did not bear thinking about, John withdrawing from him before he was truly done, the last droplets of creamy seed spattering erratically over Donnie’s balls and abused hole, left open in a strained gape after such a vigorous pounding. There would be no way to really tell how far he had intended to go or how long they had been at it but the time was passed as John staggered upright, eyes intent and grasping his cock as if he didn’t realise that it was already softening.

“Fucking hell, Dooonnniiiee! This shit is great!”

And, if he thought that, Donnie was not going to be the one to shatter the illusion – at least not until they were in a safer location with fewer drugs in their system. His mind knew that much even as he rasped out a hoarse laugh himself, John’s brow furrowing for a fraction of a second, although he had never once asked how Donnie was when a change of body or mind had occurred to him before. It just wasn’t something that they did or part of their dynamic and Donnie had no doubt at all that it would stay that way too. It was just how it was.

“Get here!”

John laughed raucously, throwing his head back in a flash of devastatingly white teeth, and pulled his brother to his feet, Donnie finally taking the chance to slide his shirt back off his shoulders, soaked with sweat. And then they came together, kissing and groaning into one another’s mouths, their passion finally matching up with the point of their high as they groped and squeezed and lewdly took hold of just what pleased them, cum drooling from Donnie’s back passage. But it was not the trickle of cum around his anal ring that was the most high-inducing of it all but the flurry of talk between them, gasping and panting and exchanging ideas in the way that only brothers could do.

“Bigger!”

“Yes, we’ve got to do more!”

“So much more!”

“Diesel! We’ll be in on it all!”

“Mark to get them in first!”

“The streets won’t know what hit them!”

And they thought they were concocting the most detailed of plans even as they hungrily shared breath and their cocks throbbed back to full hardness, although it was true too that only one of them could end up back on the bottom. Back to the wall, Donnie slid down as if in a daze after such an extended exchange of words that he could not even remember, heart pumping for the thrill of the moment and the cock right there before him.

Without thinking – he didn’t have to think – he took John’s shaft back into his mouth, sucking it greedily down, tongue pressed wetly and slickly up to the underside. It stretched his jaw as widely as it always had, his naturally small mouth not really designed for sucking anyone off (despite what John liked to say on a very frequent basis) and he lost himself in the heat of it, taking John’s heat into his own body and passing it back again tenfold.

“Fucking hell, Donnie…”

Grunting coarsely, John leaned heavily over his brother, palm of his hand flat against the wall, John rocked and bucked his hips, claiming his mouth as he had done so very many times before. And yet the existence of those previous times did not make this one any less sweet, the high enough to handle as he moaned and rolled his head from one shoulder to the other, lolling like a grotesque doll for a moment – yet only a moment. And a moment was something that could be borne through, like when John rammed up into the back of his brother’s throat too harshly, for the sake of the sweet, sweet high that was otherwise to come.

And they’d never give up that pleasure – oh no. That was just what kept them going, trembling with an erratically erotic mixture of need and hunger, one intricately mixed cocktail that slipped down easily. When John exploded into Donnie’s mouth, the submissive brother drank down every last drop, feeling every vein pulsing on his brother’s cock and imagining too with the help of his little crystal friend that he could feel far more than he did. Every last sensation enhanced, right down to the hardness of the floor beneath his knees, pushing up against him as if it was bearing him back and away. Yet no! He had to keep sucking, had to keep going, and he drew that shaft lustfully into the back of his mouth, sucking until his cheeks hollowed and he drank him dry of every drop that he had to give.

There was more to come but the drug ebbed and waned, perhaps following the course of what it was cut with, something that the two of them could not even know without putting their supplier to gunpoint, or, at least, some other weapon. Clean-up was left to those who were better suited to the duty and the time, hours later, found them going over the footage, the clipboard nothing but scrawls and scribbles that not even Donnie could decipher from his own handwriting or even remember. But that was to be expected and the cameras indeed had been set up for a reason that they too had to make good on.

And yet there was something in there that Donnie didn’t want to dig into, swinging in the computer chair with a comfortable back with his head tipped up to the ceiling.

“Fuck… Did you see this shit?”

Eyeing the screen, Donnie swiftly and pointedly averted his eyes from the image of him lying there, choked unconscious and apparently lifeless, as his brother fucked him.

“I was there, John. What do you think?”

His brother, for once, was quiet. Silence stretched out as the footage played on, the sound muted for it would have been too much for either of them to actually play it aloud, hear the despondency of what had taken place in clear, sharp detail. And Donnie did not look, reminiscing with a shiver just how those hands had felt on him, the wrestle decidedly one-sided and his cock twitching with need even then, wanting something…something that he would not say, if not quite yet.

There would be time. He was sure of it.

“That one was too strong,” John said at last, shaking his head. “There’ll be riots if we send that out. I’ll have Maverick sort out the supplier on that one. That had to be deliberate.”

Or maybe not. But it did not make up for what had happened and the lingering tingle of lust in Donnie as he stood slowly, lips pulling up in a half-grin that should not really have been present, considering the apology that should have been made and simply was not present.

He could hate it or love it… But all that remained was to see just what he would do about it. And that one thing alone was pleasantly and entirely up to him.

Taking his brother’s hands, he placed them on his throat with his eyes cockily half-lidded, the bruises still remaining from the brutal attack earlier. Raising his eyebrows, John pressed down; Donnie’s breath caught.

“Try it again.”