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Our Life, A Beautiful Nightmare

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Jeremiah frustrates him.

He's a stuck-up, bitter little mannequin with no personality, no layers, no appeal whatsoever. And the worst part is that Jeremiah refuses to acknowledge it. He thinks he's this deeply intellectual, tortured soul trapped in a body not capable to carry the weight of his brilliant mind. He has a brilliant mind, Jerome is willing to give him that, but definitely not as brilliant as Jerome himself and by far not as brilliant as Jeremiah pretends.

He's barely more than a nerd who never grew out of his college freshman phase, wearing the same dorky little sweater vests their mother made him wear when they were eight, his thick-framed glasses as far away from fashionable as humanly possible, same with his class rep haircut. It's like Jeremiah purposely tries to make himself as unattractive as humanly possible.

It's infuriating to Jerome because he has the potential to look beautiful. He does look beautiful and Jerome is aware how narcissistic it sounds, given that they're identical twins. But he's not a blind idiot and he knows what his looks convey.

Jerome is tall and slightly muscular, with milky, smooth skin sprinkled with faded freckles. His red hair is soft and fluffy to the touch. He's always loved to smile and knows about the effect his smiles have on people. They are able to entice and intoxicate, turn young women and men alike into blushing, fumbling messes, eager to please and impress him by any means necessary. But his smiles may also threaten and induce ice cold fear, making people fall to their knees and cry for mercy. It depends on what he's smiling about.

Jeremiah has the exact same features, except that he's a little paler and his hair is of a darker shade because he rarely leaves the house. He's leaner than Jerome for the same reason, but his cheeks are rounder and blush so prettily when he's embarrassed.

Jeremiah is softer than Jerome overall, cuter, like a frightened little kitten. Jerome enjoys making him cower away in fear, make his deep blue eyes glisten with tears and littler the pale skin in bruises and bloody bites. He loves that. He loves Jeremiah.

But there is so much lost potential there, not just in terms of looks and general outward appeal. Jeremiah could be strutting like Jerome is, entice and intoxicate, threaten and induce fear. They could be unstoppable together, make the city, the entire world bend to their will.

But Jeremiah is a coward, and a crybaby, a prissy little bitch that would rather slip right under the radar without ever being acknowledged than held up high with his name spelled in fireworks. Jerome doesn't get it. He doesn't think he ever will and it frustrates him to no end. Jeremiah frustrates him to no end.

It's why, despite the almost crushing amount of love Jerome feels for his twin, occasionally, he sees the need to...straighten him out somewhat. Tickle the beast, hoping to finally set it free. It's his duty as a big brother, isn't it? Making sure Jeremiah embraces who he is and stops trying to hide. It's all Jerome has done for the past twenty two years, look out for his baby brother. Jeremiah should be grateful. 

He's pondering about it at this very moment, lifting his glass to his lips, the excited voices and hysterical laughter of his friends dissolving into meaningless background noise as he watches Jeremiah intently, arms crossed as he's leaning against the wall next to the door to their shared room. He has his gaze fixed to the floor, obviously hoping that it would break open to swallow him whole.

He's going to be swallowed whole tonight. But not by the floor. 

Jerome starts smiling, licking the remaining sweetness of the jack and coke from his lips as he sets his glass down and gets to his feet. His friends don't acknowledge him, but mostly because they've talked about tonight's activities. Jerome knows how giddy they are, especially Tetch has expressed that much, his piercing gaze dark and hungry when Jerome proposed his idea.

Tetch has always had a thing for unconventionally pretty wallflowers, especially with the chance of defiance. Their shared preference for not exactly consensual sexual encounters (in addition to their similar views on family bonding) is pretty much the only reason they've become friends in the first place. Tetch is an animal hiding inside a human body, he's always looking for new jewels to tarnish, innocence to take, minds to break, almost always with a pseudo-poetic remark on his lips. Tetch is an intelligent man but he considers himself a less macabre version of Edgar Allan Poe, which is hilariously absurd enough for Jerome to let it slide, as it doesn't lessen his usefulness and definitely enhances his entertainment factor.

Jerome strolls over to the cabinet, pulling out a glass and Jeremiah's favorite brand of whiskey, fixing him a drink like he rarely does. He smirks while doing so, his skin prickling with excitement. He registers Crane calling for him, something about needing more booze and Jerome flips him off over his shoulder. The shithead can get it himself. 

Crane wasn't as openly enthusiastic as Tetch was but Jerome knows he enjoys the idea just as much, maybe even more. Crane has never been as openly sexual as any of them (Christ, fuck, sometimes Jerome sincerely doubts Crane even possesses a sex drive at all). However, the interesting thing about Crane is that he has a kink. Not a strictly sexual one, but in general. He's into fear, into creating fear. He thrives from it, his eyes fill with light and his face seems to glow whenever he has the opportunity to make someone sob from sheer fear alone. If he gets there by fucking someone, well, he doesn't need it to get off, but he doesn't mind either. It's fucking weird but Jerome can honestly say that it's oddly intriguing at the same time.

Really, the one person in his group of friends he considers the odd one out is Oswald.

While Oswald enjoys violence as much as they do, he's a snarky, flamboyant little thing (quite literally. Jerome could lift him up with one hand) with a knack to attracting abusive men (hence why spends so much time with Jerome of all people). He's openly and exclusively gay, whereas Jerome and Tetch don't have a preference and Crane is, well, Crane. Oswald knows how to get what he wants, he's manipulative and possesses equal amounts of street smarts and book smarts, which makes him very useful when it comes to wreaking havoc. However, he's always in it for the money, or whatever there is to gain from their actions. Jerome loves chaos for chaos' sake and he doesn't understand what else you should be able to gain from causing chaos. He doesn't get Oswald and he can be almost as frustrating to Jerome as Jeremiah is.

Oswald is also the only one who doesn't want to be here tonight. But Jerome is fairly certain he'll participate anyway. Oswald knows how to hold his own but when it comes to Jerome, he's as easy to handle as a lump of clay. Almost like another certain someone.

A certain someone that is currently eyeing Jerome with complete and utter repulsion. His heart does a little somersault. "Why are you over here all by yourself?", Jerome coos, cocking his head and wiggling his eyebrows. "Don't worry about the space on the couch. You can always cuddle up to me ~"

Jeremiah's lips press into a thin line and he throws a quick glance over Jerome's shoulder, as if trying to set his group of friends on fire by just concentrating enough. "I'm only here because you refuse to give me the key to our room."

Jerome grips his chest with his free hand. "Ouch. That hurts, baby brother. Why don't you wanna spend time with us? We've been nothing but nice to you!"

Jeremiah rolls his eyes and Jerome wants to devour him right then and there. Hold him down, break his skin, bruise his flesh, make him cry.

Patience is a virtue Jerome doesn't possess. But he knows it's going to be worth it this time. With an exasperated sigh, he holds the drink out to his brother. "At the very least, ease up a bit. Have a drink!"

He can see Jeremiah's face softening just a tiny bit before he seems to catch himself, immediately putting up the facade again. "I'm not getting drunk for your pleasure", he hisses, pushing Jerome's held out arm away from him, "and definitely not in the presence of your degenerate friends."

Jerome's smile widens at the expected defiance. He twirls the glass in his hand, licking his lips once more. "It's cute that you think I was asking."

It all happens in the blink of an eye, Jeremiah's eyes widening as he recognizes the changed tone of Jerome's voice, trying to flinch away, but Jerome's fingers find his hair before he can. He grips and yanks, leaning in closely to let his breath ghost over Jeremiah's pretty pale throat. "I'll count to three", he whispers, flicking his tongue out to slide over the tender flesh. Jeremiah gasps and tenses up even more, twitching at the threat of being caught. It's adorable that he still thinks the things he lets Jerome do to him are a secret. "If you didn't finish that drink by then, I'll bend you over the fucking couch. We clear?"

Jeremiah gulps, his adam's apple inviting Jerome to nibble at it just slightly, prompting Jeremiah to let out a high-pitched whine he's unable to hold in. "Yes -!", he forces out, fingers twisted together in a desperate attempt not to give into the temptation of clinging to Jerome. The knowledge of this being a fact makes Jerome's chest feel warm. 

He hums in approval, pulling back at once. "Good." He holds out the glass to his trembling brother once more, his smile as bright as the sun itself. "Better hurry up then. Although I wouldn't mind either way ~"

Jeremiah refuses to look at him as he takes the glass and Jerome doesn't bother with counting aloud. He's not going to waste any effort with meaningless mocking. Not when the main event is about to begin...

As much as Jeremiah enjoys bitter things, bitter chocolate, bitter coffee, bitter liquor, downing a glass of pure whiskey which Jerome filled almost to the edge takes its toll even on him. He makes a face, eyes squeezed shut tightly and once he's done, he starts coughing and gasping for air, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

Jerome is momentarily stunned. Beautiful, he thinks. So beautiful. Such wasted potential. "Looks like someone's able to be a good boy when he wants to, huh?"

Jeremiah places the glass on the shelf next to him. His cheeks are bright red as he adjusts his glasses, gaze fixed to a spot on Jerome's shirt. "I drank it. Now leave me alone."

He attempts to walk past Jerome. Where he plans on going, Jerome doesn't know. Maybe the bathroom, maybe outside for a smoke in private. But Jerome isn't going to find out.

He wraps his arm around Jeremiah's throat from behind, his heart beating hard and fast within his chest, each and every muscle of his body tense with anticipation. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, where ya goin', four-eyes?"

Jeremiah went rigid in his grasp. Jerome locks eyes with Tetch, who rises from his position on the couch, followed suit by Crane.

Oswald hesitates. Jerome finds his gaze and he gulps, reluctantly rising as well.

Jerome snickers, flicking his tongue over Jeremiah's earlobe. "My buddies and I wanna have some fun with you ~"

Jeremiah sucks in a breath, trying to jerk away from Jerome's hardening cock against his backside. "What are you -? Let me go..!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Jerome reaches around with his other arm, finding Jeremiah's crotch and squeezing. He cries out and stops squirming, albeit still shaking in Jerome's hold. "You've been so good for me, don't ruin that now."

His friends have started walking closer, eying Jeremiah up and down. Tetch looks like he's in heaven, lips parted as he watches Jerome knead Jeremiah through his pants. Crane's eyes are clouded, focused on Jeremiah's frightened face. Oswald is still keeping his distance, trying to maintain an emotionless expression but Jerome can tell by the slight twitch of his eye that he wants to run.

Jerome slowly starts guiding Jeremiah forward, nosing at the side of his face. "Everyone's so excited to get to know you better. I've told 'em so much about you ~"

Tetch and Crane are standing on either side of Jeremiah now, Tetch reaching out to trace Jeremiah's bottom lip with his finger, in true creep fashion. But to Jerome's absolute delight, Jeremiah isn't having it, biting down hard on the digit, making Tetch hiss and quickly pull his hand back.

Jerome breaks into a howl of laughter at Tetch's bewildered face. "He's a feisty one", Tetch says once he's regained his posture, his face breaking into a smile as he licks a drop of blood from his finger. "You failed to mention that."

"Ah, it's an act. He's a little kitten, just like I described him, ain't that right?" Jerome presses a loud, obnoxious kiss to the side of Jeremiah's neck before shifting his grip, pulling Jeremiah's arms behind his back. "I don't suppose I need to tell you guys what to do with yourselves."

Jeremiah is still squirming, the effort audible in the panicked little groans he gives. Jerome shivers a little, his lips grazing over Jeremiah's heated skin. He watches closely over is shoulder how Tetch starts unbuttoning Jeremiah's shirt while Crane crouches down. "Stop it...don't..!"

He starts kicking, but Crane easily dodges the attack, a small smirk on his face as he works Jeremiah's pants open.

Jerome giggles, tightening his grip on Jeremiah's arms. "Shhh, it's okay, baby brother", he coos, kneeling Jeremiah in the back, making him momentarily stop struggling at the surprising pain, giving the three of them the opportunity to lay him down on the floor.

Jerome pins his wrists down, grinning at him from where's he's kneeling behind Jeremiah's head. "Just spread those pretty legs and we'll take care of everything else ~"

Jeremiah is staring up at him in complete and utter misery, tears streaming down his temples and soaking his hairline. Tetch is currently splaying his fingers over his chest, making him flinch and squeeze his eyes shut. "No, no -!"

He's forced to moan when Tetch leans down to flick his tongue over a nipple. Jerome snickers and Tetch joins in, his tongue quick and relentless as it slides over Jeremiah's flesh, tickling absolutely delicious little whines out of him.

He shifts his gaze, licking his lips when he witnesses Crane pulling Jeremiah's pants and boxers down while sitting on his legs to keep him from kicking. It's only then that Jerome remembers something.

Or rather, someone. "Tetch, take over", Jerome says and Tetch does just that, leaning his own body more over Jeremiah's to be able to pin his wrists down while biting at his neck. Jerome gets to his feet and he knows that Jeremiah is following him with his gaze but he forces himself to ignore it, as much as he wants to revel in his brother's misery.

Oswald is standing several feet away from them, fists opening and closing at his sides, gaze cast downward. Jerome puts on his most charming smile, striding over to him. "What's wrong, Oz?", he coos, a delightful shiver running down his spine at the tiny flinch Oswald gives at being addressed. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself..."

Oswald is refusing to look at him and Jerome strongly dislikes that. He waits, however. Once again, patience might pay off. "Jerome, I...he's..."

Oswald looks like a bird with a broken wing, small and vulnerable. Jerome could crush him in his palm. "I...I don't think we should be -!"

Behind them, Jeremiah lets out a broken little sob, followed by Tetch's appreciative hum and while Jerome has to fight the urge to turn back around and watch, Oswald flinches once more, squeezing his eyes shut without finishing his sentence. 

He's never expressed it, not with words, but Jerome could tell by the way his jaw tightened at his proposal a few days ago, his fingers twitching in his lap. Unlike any of them, Oswald is not a fan of rape.

The thought makes Jerome giggle. It is quite ironic. "Do you want to take his place, Ozzie baby?" He takes ahold of Oswald's chin and makes their gazes meet. Oswald's eyes are wide and afraid. Jerome licks his lips. "Ya jealous cuz he's the center of attention this time? Well, maybe I should let Jer and Jonny have their fun while I take care of you thoroughly."

He starts moving forward, forcing Oswald to stumble backwards. He tightens his grip on Oswald's chin, leaning down until their noses brush. "That what'cha want, hmm? For daddy to lift you up against the wall again? To make you scream so loud you'll lose your voice for two days?"

Oswald gasps, his lower back hitting the backrest of the couch. But Jerome doesn't stop, he leans in closer and Oswald bends backwards, fingernails digging into the cushions, cheeks tinted red.

Jerome wiggles his eyebrows, licking a trail up the side of Oswald's face. It's a claim that makes Oswald flinch and bite back a whine. "Cuz I'm down, baby cakes", he purrs, sliding his other hand up Oswald's thigh, feeling the tremble even through the silky fabric. "Just say the word and daddy's gonna make it hurt so, so good ~"

He digs his nails in Oswald's thigh, prompting him to shriek. "N-no..!"

Jerome hums, lowering his mouth to Oswald's neck, hiding the smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Oswald's breath hitches and he turns his head away. "No, don't...I...I'm sorry, Je-! I mean, I, I'm sorry, daddy..!"

Jerome giggles, pulling away and pressing a quick peck to Oswald's red cheek. "Yeah, I think so too, bite size." He grips the back of Oswald's neck and holds him in place, whispering right into his ear. "You better start to man the fuck up, or I'm gonna make ya sit on his dick while choking on mine. Got that, Ozzie, baby?"

"Yes, daddy..!"

"Good." Jerome pulls away at once, his smile all teeth as he wraps his arm around Oswald's shoulders to guide him forward. "Now, don't be shy. Come closer."

Oswald is tense, so tense but he submits, letting Jerome lead him towards Jeremiah and the others. Jerome's stomach burns hot as he finally gets to see what he missed.

Tetch and Crane have changed positions, with Crane kneeling above Jeremiah's head to pin his wrists down. Tetch is already thoroughly enjoying himself, a bruising grip on Jeremiah's thighs while rocking in and out of him, his thrusts not particularly hard, but fast and precise.

Jeremiah's face is contorted in pain and humiliation. His flushed cheeks are wet from an endless flow of tears and he's sobbing, occasionally forcing out weak insults with hardly any effect. He's still trying to squirm out of the relentless grips, his chest heaving and his cock half hard.

He looks absolutely beautiful. "Still putting up a fight, huh?" Jerome looks down at him, the expression on his face definitely a lot softer than it should be, given the circumstances. But he can't help it. "So fierce, precious boy, you're making big brother really proud!"

Jeremiah isn't looking at him and Jerome knows he's doing it on purpose. "Fre-eaks -!", he cries, a delightful strain to his voice. "I'll k-kill you for this, I'll kill you, I'll kill you -!" 

Jesus, fuck. The threat goes right to Jerome's cock because it's an accomplishment, progress, a tiny step forward in freeing the beast Jeremiah is trying to keep trapped. And as much as he wants to hear more (more more more), he knows he's going to have to keep Jeremiah building it up. It'll be worth it in the long run.

Jerome thinks he should receive a fucking medal for the amount of patience he keeps showing today. 

He lets his lips graze over Oswald's earlobe. "Make him shut up", he whispers, his gaze locked to Jeremiah's face while still addressing Oswald. "Stick your fingers in his mouth."

Oswald flinches for what seems like the hundredth time. But he obeys. Of course he does.

Dropping to his knees, Jerome can hear him whisper a soft little I'm sorry to Jeremiah before his brother's protests dissolve into a high-pitched gurgle, drowned by the steady slap of skin against skin and Tetch's rapid breathing.

Jerome licks his lips and crouches down. Jeremiah has his eyes shut tightly, his lips involuntarily wrapped around Oswald's trembling fingers. He hums and noses at the side of Oswalds face while reaching out to thread his fingers through Jeremiah's sweat-soaked hair. "Good boy, Ozzie. Making daddy proud ~" 

Jeremiah's eyes snap open at once. But before Jerome is able to dwell on that fact, he hears Crane grumble: "My turn. You've had your fun, Mr. Tetch. I can't enjoy his frightened face in this position."

Jerome snickers, turning his head towards the very disheveled looking Tetch, buried balls deep inside Jeremiah. He looks less than thrilled at the interruption. "As painful as it is for me to stand between you and your disturbing need to witness fear, I am not done yet, my dearest Mr. Crane", he spews out, giving his words more emphasis by pulling out of Jeremiah almost completely before snapping his hips forward again.

Jeremiah chokes around Oswald's fingers. Jerome never wants this to end. But, as shotcaller of this event, it is his responsibility to make sure his guests are feeling heard and respected...

"Ah, we've got all night, Jer, my man. Let the goth boy have a turn."

"Don't call me that", Crane protests less fiercely than he usually does when Jerome mocks him for his choice in fashion. It fills him with delight that his baby brother has such a soothing effect on his friends.

Tetch sighs in exasperation, reaching out to run his fingers down Jeremiah's chest and belly, prompting him to try and twitch away again. "Alright then. I hope you'll appreciate this magnificent piece of human art."

Jerome rolls his eyes and Crane snorts.

"Oh, I will..." 



Jerome isn't sure how much time passed. He feels like he's floating, marveling in the aftermath of the sheer breathtaking joy tonight's activities filled him with. The door falls shut and he turns around, licking his lips as his gaze falls on Jeremiah.

He's still on the floor, curled up into a ball, shaking and twitching, cum oozing from his backside and creating a stain on the carpet. Jerome never liked that carpet anyway. At least now it has a story to tell. "Awww, was that a little much, baby doll? ~"

Jeremiah doesn't answer. He's breaths come out in tiny little whimpers and Jerome giggles, slowly starting to approach him. "Surprised ya didn't pass out. Seems like ya inherited Lila's stamina when it comes to handling dick, huh?"

He crouches down next to Jeremiah's head. He has his eyes closed, hugging himself weakly. "Fuck you", he whispers and as tiny as his voice is, it's full of venom and makes Jerome feel even giddier than he already does. 

"Let's getcha cleaned up. We don't want you dripping on the bed, do we? C'mon, up we go." He slips an arm around Jeremiah's shoulders and lifts him up. Jeremiah whines but he doesn't protest and he doesn't try to fight when Jerome pulls him to his feet and wraps one of Jeremiah's arms around his shoulders. On the contrary, he leans into it, head lolling to the side as his knees are about to buckle.

Jerome nuzzles a kiss to his temple. "That's a good boy. Big brother's gonna make ya feel all better ~"

"Shut up..."

Jerome snickers, gently guiding Jeremiah to the bathroom. He doesn't bother with undressing himself, helping Jeremiah into the bathtub before stepping in as well.

He pulls Jeremiah down with him and makes him settle in his lap, careful not to jostle him too much. Jeremiah's had enough for tonight, even for Jerome's standards.

Jeremiah is too out of it to care as he cuddles closer, seeking Jerome's warmth and comfort. He always does, no matter the things Jerome does to try and break him. It's what makes their bond so special, at least to Jerome. No matter the lengths they take to hurt each other, at the end of the day, they provide each other with what they need. They are the pulse in each other's veins. Really, how could anyone not see the pure beauty in that?

He reaches for the showerhead and turns the warm water on. "Just relax now, Miah baby. I'm gonna take care of you", he whispers in Jeremiah's ear, bringing the showerhead down to Jeremiah's abused hole. He chokes and flinches when Jerome slips two soaped up fingers inside of him. "Shhh, it's okay, broski. You're okay."

Jerome can be tender when he wants to and right now, he wants to. He nuzzles Jeremiah's shoulder, his neck, the side of his face, leaving sweet little kisses all over his skin while working two fingers inside of him, accompanied by the gentle stream of warm water. Jeremiah only gives the tiniest of gasps, unconsciously pressing back against Jerome's fingers and Jerome kind of regrets not having a hand free to jerk him off. But he thinks if he did, Jeremiah would finally pass out, so maybe it's better this way. As soft as he feels for his brother right now, he's not going to drag his lifeless body to bed.

"Good boy." He presses another kiss to Jeremiah's shoulder, easing his fingers out of him. "You're such a good boy, Miah."

Jeremiah is slowly starting to regain his senses. When Jerome wraps both arms around his shivering form, he forces out a trademark: "I hate you..!"

However, he buries his face in Jerome's shoulder, his own arms wrapping weakly around him. "I hate you, I hate you..!"

Jerome chuckles softly. Same old. He runs a hand up and down Jeremiah's back. "Not an issue, sugar buns. I love you enough for the both of us ~"

Jeremiah tenses up at those words. It doesn't concern Jerome because it's not an usual occurrence.

What does puzzle him however is the one word slipping from Jeremiah's lips, coming out as a downright heartbroken little sob. "Liar."

Jerome blinks, his heart giving the tiniest clench. What the fuck? If there's one thing they both know without a doubt, it's that Jerome loves Jeremiah. It's a fucked up kind of love, sure, but that's a given with how they were raised. So, what the fuck?

Jerome wants to pull away, to make Jeremiah look at him but he tightens his hold around Jerome's neck, preventing him from doing so. Jerome hisses when he feels nails dig into his skin, with intent. Like if Jeremiah had enough strength for it, he'd pull Jerome's flesh open and rip out his spine. "You don't love me. You...this isn' keep telling me that...and then...then you..."

"Miah -", Jerome wants to say but Jeremiah shakes his head. Jerome realizes that he's crying.

"You're a liar."



"You fuck him."

They've made it to their room, Jeremiah refusing to make eye contact until they were settled in their bed in their usual positions, with Jerome draping an arm around Jeremiah from behind. He's holding him tighter than usual however, the odd incident in the bathtub like a drill in his mind and heart.

You don't love me.

You're a liar. 

It's still haunting Jerome, however, he's half asleep by the time Jeremiah decides to speak again and for a moment, Jerome's not sure if he's even heard correctly. "Huh?", he mumbles into the back of Jeremiah's neck.

"He calls you daddy."

Jerome groans, Jeremiah's habit of playing the pronoun game is even more infuriating when his mind is barely functioning. "The fuck are -?"

He doesn't finish the sentence. Blinks his eyes open, rapidly so. Hold up. Hold the fuck up.

Jerome licks his lips and crouches down. Jeremiah has his eyes shut tightly, his lips involuntarily wrapped around Oswald's trembling fingers. He hums and noses at the side of Oswalds face while reaching out to thread his fingers through Jeremiah's sweat-soaked hair. "Good boy, Ozzie. Making daddy proud ~" 

Jeremiah's eyes snap open at once.

And suddenly, Jerome is wide awake, the drill gone, leaving an excited throbbing. "No way." He starts grinning so widely, it almost feels like the corners of his mouth are ripping open. "You're jealous of Ozzie?"

Jeremiah goes rigid. "No..!"

Jerome could slap himself for not getting it, for not seeing it. This is perfect.

He giggles, leaning in until his breath is ghosting over Jeremiah's earlobe. "Liar. You're such a little liar." He slides his hand up Jeremiah's side, then over his chest, thumb grazing over a nipple. Jeremiah's breath hitches. "But yeah. I fuck him. How could I not? He's literally fun sized!"

Jeremiah tenses up again, trying to squirm out of Jerome's hold, but he isn't having it, gently scratching over the soft flesh of Jeremiah's belly, something that always makes him melt in Jerome's grasp. "Awww...I might be his daddy but I'm your broski...", he coos, flicking his tongue over Jeremiah's earlobe. "He could never replace you ~"

"Fuck you..."

It's breathless and half-hearted, a desperate attempt to keep up the facade. But it's crumbling. Jerome remembers nails clawing at the back of his neck. The facade is finally crumbling. "Ya wanna get back at him for it?"

He slides his hand down. "Wanna make him cry? Beg for your cock? Cuz he will. He's good at begging, almost as good as you ~" He wraps his hand around Jeremiah's dick, relishing the gasp it earns him.

His skin is prickling and the rush is back, the rush he felt while watching Jeremiah being torn apart. But this, this is even better, more intense, realer. He found it. Jerome finally found what it takes.

And the fact that it has to do with him, with what Jeremiah feels for him is too wonderful to possibly put into words. It's all he's ever dreamed of but never dared to expect. But now it's true. It's true and it's lovely

"Y'know, we're practically identical." He licks and bites at Jeremiah's neck in between words, keeping the pace of his hand slow and steady. "You could put him wherever you want him, just like I do. You could bend him over your desk or force him on his knees, maybe even try to pick him up. He weighs next to nothing."

Jeremiah moans, croaky and broken, baring more of his neck to Jerome, bucking into his hand. Jerome is hard again too but he ignores it. This is all he's worked for, ever since he was old enough to understand what he's capable of, what Jeremiah is capable of, what they both are capable of, together, if Jeremiah would just let go

He's letting go now. He's letting go

"You'd be in charge, precious boy. You could do whatever you wanted with him and he'd have to take it. He'd yearn for more, cry for you, he'd want it harder, harder, harder."

Jeremiah whines, reaching behind himself to slide his hand in Jerome's hair, gripping tightly, pulling him in closer. Jerome is about to burst

He quickens his movement, nosing at the side of Jeremiah's face. "Make him understand who he's dealing with. Show him who you are, who you are to me."

Jeremiah gasps and Jerome notices that he's crying again. He licks the tears away, shivering at the familiar saltiness dancing on his tongue. "Make him regret he ever got close to me. Show him what happens when someone tries to take what's yours."

And that is it. Jeremiah chokes on one last breathless moan, spilling his release all over his stomach and Jerome's hand. Jerome doesn't still the movement and keeps kissing him through it, only stopping when Jeremiah slumps, shaking and breathing heavily.

Jerome hums, about to pull his hand back and lick the mess from his fingers. But he's stopped by a weak grip around his wrist, Jeremiah pulling at his hand.

Jerome sucks in a breath when lips wrap around his fingers, his stomach burning hot. Jeremiah hates tasting himself, which is why Jerome makes him do it so often.

Jerome isn't making him do it this time.

Jeremiah hums against his fingers, cleaning them thoroughly before pulling them from his mouth again and to Jerome's surprise (and complete and utter delight) he turns around to rest his ear above Jerome's heart, draping an arm around him. He hasn't done that since they were around seven.

Jerome doesn't hesitate and wraps his arms fully around him, clutching him to his chest like a child would a teddy bear. He feels warm. Mended. Complete

Maybe this wasn't just about setting Jeremiah free.

Jerome's eyes slip closed, once again drifting off to sleep. But before he lets himself, he presses a lasting kiss to Jeremiah's forehead. It's not obnoxious, not over the top. It's real. 

"I'll think about it..."

Jerome cracks his eyes open again at the hushed words, confused for a moment. But then he remembers and giggles a little, his heart swelling. 

He'll need to call Oswald tomorrow...