veiledndarkness: (Bobby & Jack Love)
[personal profile] veiledndarkness
Title: Brothers

Author: [ profile] veiledndarkness

Fandom: Four Brothers

Pairing: Bobby Mercer/Jack Mercer

Rating: Explicit

Summary: He knows that this isn’t right but he can’t bring himself to stop.

Prompt: They may not be related by blood, but in all the ways it counts, they’re brothers. Despite that, they can’t bring themselves to care that it would destroy their family if they were found out.

Disclaimer: The characters within are not mine. No profit has been made and no harm is intended.

*Written for the [ profile] dark_fest 2012 Round*


If Bobby paused to think about it, if in fact he stopped to think at all, he’d know that this wasn’t right but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit in the end.

Bobby didn’t do regrets very often. They were a waste of his time and right now, he couldn’t think of anything besides the way Jack’s knee felt, shoved between his thighs and the way his fingers nimbly removed Bobby’s belt, the loops falling back expectantly. Jack was irresistible and dangerously addictive and Bobby couldn’t get enough of him.

Outside of this moment and all the ones that had come before, Bobby would proudly tell everyone and anyone that Jack was one of them, a Mercer, damn it, one of the four Mercer boys, and fuck it if that name wasn’t widespread throughout all of Detroit. The people that mattered knew who they were and more importantly, feared them, and most of the police force would kill to be able to pin something on them that would stick forever.

Like he’d give those pig fucks an excuse to slam the cell door on him or any of his brothers for good.

Bobby twisted his fingers in Jack’s shirt, rucking the material up above his waist, his possessive hands moving over Jack’s abdomen. He felt rather than heard Jack’s shaky intake of breath and smirked. Part of him wanted to bend Jack over the bed and fuck him ruthlessly but he tamped down that savage urge and settled for digging his fingernails into Jack’s sides and listened to the filthy moan slip out of his boy.

No one ever brought out the animalistic urges he felt better than him.

Jack was brought to them like all the others before and after him. The only difference was that he never left. He was far too damaged to rejoin the foster cycle and Evelyn couldn’t bear to part with her little Jackie. Bobby had seen dozens of kids come in, each more fucked up than the next and while you got attached to them, Jack struck a chord in his adoptive brothers that made his leaving impossible to imagine.

How could one kid cut through Bobby like no one else? A kid that turned into a teenager overnight before his eyes, in between Bobby’s trips to jail or out of town for work, a teen that pushed at the rules Bobby pushed at him, a teen who smoked, got himself tattooed, one who drank and strutted past Bobby on his impossibly long legs, a cigarette hanging from his lip like he was fucking James Dean. A teen that wormed his way in through Bobby’s defences and forced him to push back and take what he was dying to have, a teen who wanted to be punished just so, by someone like Bobby, a teen that craved his rough touch.

And on the outside they were brothers, only not by blood. And Bobby taught Jack as much as he could about protecting yourself, about weapons and learning how to fight dirty when you had to and so what if Jack was a piss poor shot? So what if he hated to fight and would rather spend his time learning to play the guitar or write in his journal instead of joining some basketball or hockey team? Bobby was proud of him, hell, they all were.

Out of all of them, he was the most innocent somehow, the one least likely to fuck up majorly.

Jack moved against Bobby, panting his name, rock hard in his jeans and rutting against Bobby with something akin to desperation. Bobby curled his fingers up and into Jack’s hair, bringing him in closer for another kiss, biting at his lips and soothing the small hurts with flicks of his tongue. Jack moaned and arched into Bobby more, pleading with him, sweet, breathy pleas in his ear. He begged shamelessly, rubbing as much of his body as he could against Bobby, a wild, feral cat in heat. Bobby wrapped one hand around Jack’s wrist, pinning his arm down to the bed and licking the various inked tattoos on his skin.

They couldn’t risk it all the time, not with how sharp Evelyn’s eyes were or how she always seemed to know when someone was lying or omitting the truth. No matter how badly Bobby wanted to touch Jack, he had to limit himself around her, around Angel, around Jerry, who saw things as clearly as Evelyn could. He lied to her the one time she somewhat causally brought up her worries over Bobby’s love life or lack thereof. He told no one the truth. How could he explain that all he wanted was to fuck Jack again and again?

Too often he was forced to keep his arms at his sides, to keep his face neutral when their family was around. Too many nights of fucking Jack in the garage, up against the side of his car, one hand stuffed down the front of Jack’s jeans, fisting his cock until he came with a muffled sob, biting down on Bobby’s shoulder to stifle his moans. They took every opportunity and more than once, Bobby wasn’t able to meet Evelyn’s gazes after returning from an errand with Jack, the boy still sex-mussed, his cheeks pink and knees weak.

Jack pulled back from Bobby, his chest hitching as he fell back against his bed; his legs sprawled apart, invitingly. Bobby prowled over to him, shedding his layers of clothes impatiently. Jack tugged his shirt off, his skin flushed with arousal, his sweet blue eyes pleading with Bobby to take him before someone came home and heard them. Bobby knelt over Jack, his mouth hovering between Jack’s thighs, feeling the trembling in his limbs. He could do anything, his boy would let him do anything, fuck, any fucking thing he wanted to do to him. The power of that was exhilarating. He rubbed his chin along Jack’s inner thigh, his scruffy facial hair roughing up the tender skin, drawing a moan from him.

Already they were treading on dangerously thin ice, this lust filled and crazily obsessive need of theirs. There were far too many thoughtful looks from Evelyn and each one made Bobby feel a rush of guilt but he couldn’t think of that when he knew how good Jack felt when he was buried deep inside him, couldn’t stop the need to have him, take him again and again. He knew what she’d say, he knew she’d be horrified, sickened by how deep Bobby’s depravity ran. He knew it but all that paled to the feeling of Jack’s lips wrapped around his cock, his pretty blue eyes staring up at Bobby as he worked his mouth.

And so they took risks, chances like madmen. In the garage, in Bobby’s car, in the washroom when everyone else was downstairs, and when Bobby finally got an apartment of his own, he kept Jack there as often as he dared. Jack was his. He wanted to mark him and fuck anyone who didn’t understand the urge.

Bobby ran a slick finger over Jack, rubbing a teasingly slow finger along him in loving motions, darting in, slipping out, rubbing that spot within and watching him fall apart. Jack bucked his hips, tears in his eyes as he gripped the sheet beneath him with both fists. He toyed with him, keeping him on edge until Jack was nearly fucking the air and begging soundlessly, wet tracks running down his cheeks, and as he entered him, spearing him open until Jack was clenching him, milking his cock desperately, he could only think of how there wasn’t a thing in the world that could stop him from needing Jack this way.

He loved Jack in a way he shouldn’t and even knowing that this was more than his family could handle, or knowing that this was the one thing Evelyn wouldn’t tolerate from Bobby wasn’t enough to stop him from fucking his baby brother day after day, night after night.


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October 2012

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