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This is not how it was meant to go.
Brax was too erratic, brimming with unspent energy, a ball of anxiety in their hotel room, and Chris has had enough of his pacing, fidgeting and ramblings, so he offered a solution.
When Chris asked his baby brother to sit down on the couch, in his black boxers and socks, Brax expected him to do anything, just— not this.
Chris was kneeling between his thighs, broad and big on the floor, and Brax stared at him with big wet brown eyes, breath picking up in his chest. Chris silently pulled Brax's boxers down, releasing his dick and balls from their confines. He was soft at first, but Brax could practically feel himself immediately heat up and the blood rush all the way down to his lap.
Brax's big brother was fully dressed, in a 100% cotton grey t-shirt that had no right looking that good on him, and a pair of black sweats.
Brax blinked, watching his brother squeeze a little bit of lube in his palm, the bottle seemingly coming out of his pocket, ever so prepared. Chris didn't even look at him when he wrapped his big hand around his baby brother's dick, at the root, dragging it up the head, making sure to evenly spread the lube around the hot flesh.
Brax got noisy in record time, whining and hissing at the pace that Chris set out for him. And Chris knew not to touch himself, putting his hands, closed in fists, on his spread thighs, head hitting the back of the couch while he panted like a whore, a blush high on his cheeks and his forehead already shining with sweat.
His previously, semi decently brushed hair, gelled and everything, was curling back up again, returning to its natural state, sticking to his forehead and the side of his head, over the top of his ears. He looked so soft then, endearing even, like a little puppy, not the killer, or the soldier.
Brax sniffled, his eyes getting teary as Chris twisted his hand and tightened his hold on Brax's dick, just how he knows his baby brother likes it.
His baby brother that was tall and strong. His baby brother that had big, manly hands and thick forearms. That could send a man to the hospital with a single punch, who could outrun and outlast anyone in the battlefield. His baby brother was a perfect killer.
But none of that really mattered, because Chris was stronger, bigger, older and most importantly, knew his Brax more than anyone ever has or will.
And he knows that Brax needs him in times like these, to tug at his weeping cock while Brax struggles to catch his breath and squirms on the couch, trying not to beg Chris if he can come, because he already knows the answer.
He's not allowed to come unless Chris allows it.
At this point, it was just a matter of time until Chris gives him the green light, and all Brax has to do is wait it out, try to hold on and not lose his mind.
Brax's concept of time gets skewed whenever Chris pins him on the couch and gets his hands on him. Because his dick was hot, burning up, and wet. The lube, with the heat from his body, made it so now it has trickled down, over his balls, and Brax swears it has reached his asshole, or maybe it was just sweat, who knows at this point.
As soon as Brax registers his empty hole, he can't help the needy sob that rips itself out of his throat. He feels so empty.
"Ch- Chriiiiiiisss—" Brax whines, trying to rub away at his wet eyes.
His breath stutters in his chest, hiccuping when Chris doesn't answer him, or make any sound to acknowledge that he's been spoken to.
Chris then cups Brax's balls in his other hand and Brax yelps in surprise, jumping forward, his sweaty back coming off the back of the couch.
Chris is not having it, so he releases his balls and puts his hand on Brax's chest, pushing him firmly back on the couch, "Stay still,"
"I wanna— Chris, I can't hold it—" Brax whimpers, pink lips wet and parted, panting with his mouth open, the tantalising pink of his tongue in sight, just like a dog. Like a puppy.
"You can," Chris says, picking up the pace even more, up and down, up and down, twist, up and down—
"I can't!" Brax moans, grabbing his hair in both hands, back arching and closing his eyes shut, trying to hold on.
"Yes, you can. You're only allowed to come when I let you, Brax," Chris glances up at his baby brother, all tan and muscled and strong.
Brax could kick him in the throat and mess up his face if he wanted, but he won't, because this is exactly what he needs. As long as Chris has his hands on him, Brax will never really complain, he may cry and squirm and beg, but ultimately, he won't have it any other way.