Work Text:
It's a competition, and the rules of the game are this:
1. Get a cookie
2. All the competitors come on the cookie
3. The person who comes last has to eat the cookie
The aim of the game is to come as fast as you can in order to avoid swallowing a mouth-full of semen. Nice and simple.
Only, of course, the competitors in this instance of the game are Neil and Lyle and, as with anything they do, it is never, ever simple.
"You," breathes Neil, with all the vehemence that a 16 year-old with a hand on his cock can muster, "I am not going to fucking let you eat that cookie."
Lyle, like the motherfucker that he is, just laughs. "Not," he says, "if you come first. Which you will."
Neil curses at his brother, and tries to slow his hand to match Lyle's languid pace. It's fucking hard though. Neil has no idea how Lyle makes it look so easy, stroking his cock lightly with slow fingers as if he has all the time in the world. Whereas Neil, on the other hand, is all about ready to come just from the thought of eating that cookie.
Fuck, and trying to match Lyle's pace isn't helping at all, because that means that Neil has to look at Lyle's cock, and Lyle obviously isn't finding this as easy as he makes out, because his cock is so hard that it looks like it hurts, angry and red and straining beneath Lyle's fingers.
"You are going to come first," says Neil, shuddering as his fingers tighten reflexively. "I know it. You want to eat that cookie so much that you're nearly leaking come already."
Lyle's fingers stutter at that, and he sucks in a ragged breath that sounds more like a moan than anything else. Then he lifts his head and gives Neil a challenging look.
"No," says Lyle, using one hand to brush his hair out of his face. "I'm not, because you want it so much more than me, Neil. You love eating come. You love eating my come. And you can't stop thinking about it. The taste of it. The warmth of it on your tongue."
Neil pants, and the hand stroking himself quickens without him meaning for it to. "Shut up," he grumbles. "Shut the fuck up; I don't want to hear about it."
"But you do," says Lyle, scooting closer and leaning in so that his breath washes warm over Neil's neck. "It's getting you off so fast, isn't it? It always does. But maybe you'd rather it without the biscuit. Maybe I should cut out the middle man, and just come on your face so you can lick it off."
"Fuck," gasps Neil, and he tries desperately to think of anything that's unsexy, like math class, or dung beetles, or licking Lyle's come off his face Jesus Christ. Neil's toes start curling and Lyle is laughing, and Neil is not going to let him get away with that.
So Neil leans even closer, turns his head and brings his lips to Lyle's ear. "But you want it more," whispers Neil. "You'd love to eat my come. You'd love it if there were even more people playing, so they could all come on the cookie and they could all see how much of a slut you are as you eat it."
Lyle shudders and gives Neil a hearty glare.
"You want it," says Neil.
"You want it," says Lyle.
For a moment, there's a stalemate, with Lyle trying desperately not to thrust up into his fist, and Neil almost doing the same.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't even talk anymore," pants Lyle. "And you'll come screaming with my cock deep in your ass and my fingers playing your dick like it's a fucking violin."
"Yeah, well." Neil takes a shaky breath and swallows. "I'm going to suck your cock like a lollipop. Like an everlasting gobstopper. I'm going to lick and suck on it for hours until you're trembling and begging me for more. And then," Neil gives him a breathless smirk, "then I'm going to bite down as hard as I can."
Beside Neil, Lyle whimpers and trembles, breathing heavily for a few long seconds. "You cunt, Neil," he growls.
Neil laughs, and tries his hardest not to look at Lyle and the way Lyle's cock is so hard that it looks like he's going to come any second. But Neil doesn't have to worry for long, because at that moment, Lyle surges forward, curling a hand around Neil's cock and pumping, fast and tight and good, until Neil's coming with a strangled gasp and there's nothing he can do to stop it.
Lyle's victory lasts as long as it takes for Neil to stop ejaculating, his semen spattering his thighs and the carpet as much as the cookie, because then Lyle is coming too, his face bright with triumph.
Neil shouts. "You fucking cheater, Lyle! That's not fair!" But Lyle has already snatched up the sticky cookie and shoved it in his mouth.
Angrily, Neil makes a dive for his brother and chases him across the room, where he tackles Lyle against the wall and tries to kiss the cookie out of Lyle's mouth. Lyle moans, probably more from the impact of his shoulders against the wall than from the kiss, but he puts up a good fight anyway and swallows down the cookie before Neil can steal all of it.
They're both panting by the time the kiss ends, and they're both half hard too.
Neil runs a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath. "Don't think I'm going to let you win that easily," he snarls. "We've got half a packet of cookies left. Are you man enough to go for round two?"
Lyle smirks, like a bastard. "You're on."