DISMISSED

Travisty

Warnigs

Incest / Dub-Con / Somnophilia

Tags

Henry Cooldown/Travis Touchdown / NMH2

Travis just could not get used to this new arrangement, coming back to the motel to find it occupied by something –or someone– other than Jeane. He felt like the bear in ‘Goldilocks’ every time he’d stumble into his room to find his bed already in use. Albeit the Goldilocks in his story was not, in fact, a cute little girl. It was a grown-ass man who happened to be his long lost twin brother.

He wasn’t happy about this situation, not in the least. He was an assassin, and having another assassin intruding upon his territory set him on edge. Though admittedly, the other assassin in this scenario was comatose and therefore completely harmless, but the principle remained the same. He felt like a caged animal in his own home.

Not to mention he had to sleep on the couch now because of his stupid brother. Have you ever tried to win a ranking battle with a sore back from having the old springs in the couch digging into your flesh all night long? Travis would not recommend it.

He wasn’t sure how he’d been saddled with the responsibility to look after Henry. Surely Sylvia, the man’s wife would have been a much better option. But thinking about Sylvia brought forth memories of the shocked look on Henry’s face when he’d found out about her and Travis during their fight all those years ago, and with those memories came a faint twinge of guilt that Travis would rather not acknowledge. He supposed it made sense for Sylvia to not want to look after Henry, and it’s not like they had any other family members, all having met rather gruesome deaths. As for friends, well, Travis didn’t know much about Henry’s personal circumstances but he assumed they were similar to his own, considering the nature of their job. That being: any friends you made had a 99% chance of going six feet under before you did. So that only left Travis to watch over him in this vulnerable state, unwilling though he was.

The amount of time he’d spent arguing with himself in the wake of all this was ridiculous. One miniature, Travis-shaped demon on his shoulder would whisper in his ear and tell him to just throw the comatose motherfucker out to the wolves and let the other assassins have at him. Better yet, even the score on that one fight they never got to finish and kill him while he had the chance; it wasn’t like Henry could fight back. And as soon as these thoughts would surface, the other tiny Travis on his shoulder, the one wearing a white toga and angel wings, would throw a fit and huff and puff about honour and sportsmanship. It had him wanting to bang his head against the wall and then call his shrink because he was pretty sure the voices in his head manifesting into physical forms was a sign of schizophrenia or something.

How the hell did he even end up in this mess? What had he possibly done wrong to end up with a lame piece of shit like Henry as his brother? Letting himself be bested by an enemy like Dr. Letz Shake, who was 90% hot air, anyway… How uncool can one person be? Travis refused to believe they were actually related; they didn’t even look the same, despite allegedly being twins, and they even had different last names. The other guy was Irish for fuck’s sake! There was no way they were brothers.

Were they? He’d always wondered, ever since their fateful encounter all those years ago, whether Henry’s claim of fraternity was the truth or if it was just a cheap tactic to distract him from the fight. He’d had no way to confirm it; Henry had disappeared after that fight as if he’d never even existed to begin with. Travis had spent all these years wanting to know, wanting to ask the man for his version of the truth, to ask him where he’d been all this time, to grab him by the collar and ask him where the fuck he disappeared to without a single word…

Well, Henry was here now. Unconscious and unable to answer any questions, but he was here. Travis couldn’t shake the answers out of him now but he could still look for them some other way.

That’s how he’d ended up hovering over the bed and observing its paralyzed occupant like a specimen at a laboratory, trying to decipher the strained features on his sleeping face.

Travis just did not see the resemblance; they really didn’t look alike at all. Ignoring the obvious, like his hair and his garbage sense of style, Henry’s nose was also longer and not as upturned as Travis’s. His eyebrows weren’t as thin and his eyes were more deep-set, more tired looking. Maybe they were one of those, what do you call them? Fraternal twins? Nothing identical about them.

Though Travis did have to admit, there was one thing that was identical about them both. The colour of their eyes. Although Henry’s eyes were closed, Travis remembered that icy blue as clear as day. For what reason, he couldn’t fathom. Or, he’d rather not fathom, if he could help it.

Despite the results of his investigation being inconclusive, he continued to stare holes through Henry’s face, as if doing so would yield answers to his existential query. He justified it by telling himself he wouldn’t get another chance like this, to just stare openly at Henry without being judged for it. Without Henry squirming out of his grasp and disappearing for another couple of years. No need to feel guilty since he was letting the guy crash at his place without asking for anything in return; the least he could do was let him take a closer look. It wasn’t like Travis was doing anything wrong here.

His train of thought was interrupted by a low, frustrated groan from Henry.

“Get back here, you little cunt… I’ll fucking...”

…

Okay.

Travis had gotten pretty used to Henry’s outbursts by this point but he really had to wonder what this pervert was dreaming about. Tossing and turning and spouting dicey lines like that… Must have been a hell of a dream.

Incidentally, he looked a bit hot under the collar, too. Well, it did get a bit muggy in Santa Destroy, no blaming him there. Travis didn’t want the guy to sweat all over his sheets, so he took it upon himself to loosen Henry’s tie a little bit. Just being considerate, you know?

You know what? His vest looked uncomfortable too, so he thought he’d take that off for him as well. Just helping his bro out, that’s all.

Hell, might as well take his shirt off too, for good measure. He’s sure Henry would appreciate the thoughtful gesture.

Before he knew it, he was staring at Henry’s bare chest and trying to figure out how this even happened. Again, he reassured himself, he wasn’t doing anything wrong here; he was just helping out. Henry would have done the same for him if their positions were switched. Probably. And anyway, now that he was shirtless, Travis might as well use this opportunity to continue his earlier investigation of their differences and similarities.

Henry had a similar build to Travis; no surprise there since they were both assassins after all. Lean muscle and smooth skin, a slightly paler shade than Travis’s own. His chest – bruised here and there from his recent altercation with the enemy – rose and fell with each sleepy breath and watching the rhythmic movement reminded Travis that he was holding his own breath for some reason.

His hand had moved on its own to touch the lax body beneath him and he had to consciously reign himself in. Glancing behind him to make sure no one had seen his faux pas, he only saw Jeane lazily yawning on the couch and remembered he lived alone.

What was he doing, getting all jittery for no good reason?! He’d done nothing wrong. He just wanted to test the firmness of the muscle on Henry’s torso, just to compare it with his own, that’s all. He wasn’t being weird or anything.

He’d done nothing wrong.

So he pressed his palms to the firm chest beneath him, his fingers spread on pecs so much like his own and squeezed to test their give. Those muscles were taut with tension, like he could jump up out of bed and run away any moment. Travis’s fingernails caught on a nipple as he dragged his hands down to Henry’s abdomen, goosebumps rising in their wake. Cold sweat collected in the divots between raised muscles, Henry’s gloved fists gripping the sheets. Travis distantly wondered again what he was dreaming about and tried to swallow around the mouthful of cotton on his tongue.

He trailed the crests and troughs of Henry’s abs and reached the v-shaped taper at his hips, fingers tracing his belt and he hesitated. This was as far as he would go. Any further, and he’d be crossing a line. He pulled away.

But actually, wouldn’t it be weirder to stop here? It was just his brother, after all; a man, like him. Men saw each other naked all the time, in bathhouses and locker rooms. No need to be weird about it. So it was okay to go further, actually. He was just comparing their differences, remember? There were bound to be differences here too, like the length, the colour, the shape…

He wasn’t going to do anything; he just wanted to see.

He reached for the spade-shaped belt buckle. Upside down heart. Like his own heart beating in his throat.

A minute movement.

Henry tossed his head.

“No…” he groaned and that was enough to make Travis jump back and pull his hand away like he’d been burnt. Jeane meowed in reproach.

“What?! I didn’t even fucking do anything!” he snapped in her direction. She looked like she would have raised her eyebrows at him if she had any. He mussed his own hair in frustration and threw a blanket on Henry’s bare torso.

“Stupid piece of shit asshole, made me yell at my cat…”

He stomped off to the living room and collapsed in the armchair. He put on his favourite episode of the Bizarre Jelly anime and raised the volume as high as it would go. Anything to distract him from the fact that he’d almost crossed a very dangerous line.

Except there was no dangerous line because he hadn’t done anything. He wasn’t going to do anything. Travis was normal. Everything was normal.

Including the raging boner he’d been sporting for who knew how long. That was also there for a normal reason and it had nothing to do with his stupid brother conked out in the next room. And if he unzipped his pants and took himself in his hand, it was all because of the oppai loli bouncing up and down on the screen in front of him, not some other weird reason. And when he stroked up and down, faster and faster, he totally wasn’t straining his ear to hear his stupid brother groaning and panting in the other room. There was absolutely-

“No way!” Henry yelled and sprang upright, tossing the blankets aside.

Travis nearly busted a nut and screamed.

“Ugh! Chill out!” He hurriedly shoved his dick back in his pants and tried not to look like he was about to cry.

“What the bloody hell…” Henry panted as he tried to get his bearings.

“‘Bout time you woke up.” Travis said as nonchalantly as he could manage. His hands were shaking.

“Yeah…” Henry glanced at his own state of undress and his brows furrowed. Travis prayed he wouldn’t say anything about it. “Are you the one who rescued me?”

Whether his ignorance was feigned or genuine, Travis wanted to throw himself at Henry’s feet and cry at this small act of mercy he’d been shown. You know how sharks will eat their litter mates in the womb? Maybe Henry had similarly devoured any tact Travis would have had and kept it all for himself…

“I had a fight to win, you were just collateral damage. So get out when you can manage it,” Travis forced himself to ground out as coldly as he could. He still had a disinterested facade to maintain. “Until then, I’ve got some good shit on video,” and then he went and ruined that facade by putting forth such a pathetically hopeful invitation.

“We’ll see about that…”

Travis lit up like a light bulb, and then deflated almost immediately when he saw Henry rummaging around for his clothes strewn about the floor. He watched him throw his shirt on haphazardly and storm out of the motel without so much as a second glance at Travis.

Travis dropped his head in his hands and wished the next assassin would just show up and put him out of his misery already.

A few days later, Travis received Henry’s voice message. He listened to it over and over again until he knew the words by heart.

This… thing swelling within him with each consecutive listen, it wasn’t a crush and it wasn’t an obsession, either. It was simple curiosity. A mild case of snooping into the affairs of this mysterious older brother of his. The pale chance of uncovering something hidden about their entwined past.

The desire to know, and to be known in turn.

That’s all it was. Nothing serious.

And maybe he’d grown delusional from listening to that message so many times but he could swear Henry sounded almost chipper when he spoke of his exploits. Like he was speaking to a friend instead of someone he wanted dead. That alone was almost enough to make Travis forgive him for stealing his kills. Almost.

And that final sentence.

Long message, isn’t it?

Like he wanted to keep talking but couldn’t think of what else to say. A fatal blow to Travis’s already precarious sanity. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and he’d think about its implications for days to come.

As for the photos Henry sent, well, no one needed to know about the shameful things Travis did to them.

When Sylvia invited herself over, Travis felt he’d finally found Paradise for the briefest of moments.

Her hair smelled of caramel and champagne and her body was soft, malleable. Luxurious. She laughed like little tinkling bells and opened her arms like a saviour. He fell to his knees before her altar, begging her for salvation.

When they tumbled onto the bed and he looked down at her amidst the mess of sheets and pillows, all he could think of was what he’d almost done to her ex-husband in this very bed. What he’d almost done to his own brother.

He buried his face in her hair and tried not to think. He was beyond saving.

Shinobu.

Sylvia.

Henry.

All still and silent, doll-heads neatly lined up on silver platters for his viewing.

Travis saw nothing. He heard nothing. He only felt. He felt the pained cry leave his lips. He felt his body move without him telling it to. He felt his blade clash with Batt Jr.’s car and he felt himself be overpowered. He felt his will to keep fighting seeping away…

And he felt the warmth of Henry’s arms encircling him as he whisked him to safety.

Travis thought he must be hallucinating. He’d seen his lifeless head with his own eyes. He’d seen them all dead. But Henry threw the replica his way and informed him in his mocking tone that he’d been fooled. Travis felt like an idiot. A very, very relieved idiot who couldn’t stop smiling at the promise of fighting side by side with his brother.

As it turned out, however, there wasn’t much ‘fighting side by side’ to be done, per se. It went a little more like this: Travis taking the brunt of the hits while Henry stood in the corner, looking cool and nonchalant. What the fuck was the point of showing up then if he wasn’t even going to help?

Not that Travis was expecting any help from his useless brother. He was a more than capable fighter, thank you very much; they didn’t call him the Crown-less King for nothing. He had the situation under control. It was just that…

He was struggling. A tiny bit. And not because Henry was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking almost bored as he leveled Travis with a blasé look. Those ice cold eyes tracking his every move had nothing to do with why he was losing focus and getting pummeled by the enemy. It was just. This boss fight was complete bullshit on Bitter difficulty, that’s all.

By sheer force of will, or perhaps it was blind luck, he managed to pull it together long enough to force Jasper Batt Jr. into his ridiculous final phase. To add insult to injury, Henry decided to completely abandon ship despite Travis practically begging for him to stay – or that’s what it felt like to him anyway. Travis didn’t ask just anybody to stay and fight by his side, so the refusal and the disgusted look on Henry’s face as he rambled about having ‘standards’ was a major blow to his pride.

He pushed aside the frustration and what felt eerily like heartbreak – but was most definitely not – and he rushed forth to put an end to this villain’s reign of terror once and for all. As he slashed the ridiculous parade balloon in half and fell to his certain doom, he briefly wondered what he’d done all this for. Revenge for his friend Bishop is what he’d wanted and he’d gotten his revenge, but did that bring the dead back? Did that free him from this endless, hellish cycle of violence? Tomorrow, he’d wake up in the same dusty old town, with its same dusty old buildings and cars and people, and there’d be another assassin he’d have to kill, like always. Same old, same old…

Ah well. Suicidal tendencies didn’t suit him. He stuck his hand out and caught the ledge of one of the windows on the tower before he could fall to his death. Using the momentum from the fall, he kicked his way through the window and landed on the carpeted floor in a shower of broken glass. Epic entrance; too bad the credits were already rolling and no one had stuck around to see it.

He made his way down the tower at a leisurely pace, in no hurry to return to the empty motel. He whistled as he stepped through blood and gore and disemboweled corpses. Man, he’d really done a number on these poor goons. But that was their own fault, too. They should have thought of this before they decided to become evil henchmen.

He stopped abruptly when he saw a familiar figure kneeling by one of the bodies in a hallway.

“You’re still here,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Henry looked up from the mincemeat he was examining and stood up. Travis wasn’t expecting him to stick around. He thought he’d disappear again until the next installment of the game, as per usual.

“So are you,” Henry said.

“Thought I’d take the scenic route on the way out, y’know? Stop and smell the carnage.” He kicked a disembodied head nonchalantly and hoped it masked the fact that he was relieved to see his brother still around. He looked up at the sound of Henry chuckling.

“I have to say, you fought pretty admirably against such a dishonourable enemy. Well done,” Henry said, an amused smile on his face.

Travis couldn’t believe his ears. Genuine praise? From his asshole brother of all people? Must have been a cold day in hell. That didn’t stop the flutter in his traitorous heart though. Damn him and his unfortunately low standards.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he tried to cover it up with as much bitterness as he could manage. He really had wanted to fight alongside Henry, despite everything.

“You looked like you had it covered,” Henry said.

“‘Course I did. The fuck are you so smug about?”

“Oh, nothing,” he took a step towards Travis and Travis took an equal step back, his hand twitching towards the beam katana at his belt. Was it a fight he wanted?

Henry paused and quirked a brow at his retreat, then the corners of his lips twitched and he continued forward until he had Travis crowded against the wall, looking at him like he was trying to figure something out.

Okay. So, not a fight he was looking for, then.

“Hey,” Travis spoke around the beating heart in his throat, as calm as he could muster. This proximity was definitely not what he was imagining it to be. It couldn’t be. “Mind explaining what the fuck you’re doing?”

Henry ignored his question and continued to examine Travis’s face the way one might examine their own face in the mirror; too close for comfort. He grabbed Travis’s chin and tilted his head upward. He must have found what he was looking for then, because he smirked.

“I’m just paying you back for your hospitality the other day,” Henry spoke with a hidden mirth in his eyes, like this was one big joke. Perhaps it was, like everything else in this life. Travis didn’t feel like laughing though, because Henry had found out. Somehow, just by looking at him, he’d found out all about his shameful desires that he’d let slip on that fateful day at the motel.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he nearly punched himself because of course Henry had found out! The guy had woken up half-naked in his brother’s bed with the aforementioned brother jerking off in the adjacent room. That was not a good look no matter which angle you looked at it from and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the truth of the matter.

Travis had half a mind to shout ‘wait! I can explain!’ but there was no explanation for his degeneracy. It must have been genetic, a disease bred into his flesh and blood, doubly so if his brother seemed to be infected by it just as he was. Strangely enough, Henry didn’t seem bothered by this revelation half as much as he was expecting. The most desperate part of Travis wanted to complain and spout ‘but we’re brothers!’ but he knew that Henry knew that was utter hypocrisy. His fling with his– their sister was a secret to no one. There was no point in prolonging this farce, falling apart at the seams the moment it came into existence.

At that moment, Travis could only do the one thing he was good at; bullshiting.

“I thought you had standards,” he parroted Henry’s own words with a smirk that felt too shaky for his liking.

“So did I,” Henry removed Travis’s sunglasses and let them fall to the floor. Without the yellow filter of the lenses, his eyes gained a cold intensity that had Travis wanting to turn away lest he freeze to death. “Yet here I am, associating with you, Travis.”

He said his name like an insult. Like a secret. Travis wanted to punch him. Travis wanted to kiss him.

He did neither. He balled his fists into Henry’s lapels and pulled him into a violent embrace, their bodies colliding like a car crash. Henry’s arms slammed against the wall besides Travis’s head to support his weight, chests flush breathing the same air, knees slotted between knees to allow the hardness in both of their pants to rub at each other's hips.

Travis knew when he himself had gotten hard –around the same time Henry had decided to kabedon him and stare a hole through his face– but when did Henry? At the same time, when he herded Travis into a corner like cattle? Or when he saw Travis light up like a lost puppy when he happened upon him in the hallway? Or was it even earlier? Just how long had he been hard and needy like this? The thought had Travis bucking his hips up against Henry. Their belts clinked together like bells, signalling the unholiest of unions this side of Santa Destroy.

The pressure was dizzying. Travis dropped his forehead on Henry’s shoulder so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye as he lived out his shameful fantasy, rocking against his twin brother. Instead, he looked down at the enemies’ bloody intestines spilled at their feet, feeling like they were his own guts that were being stomped on by Henry. Or perhaps they were their entwined umbilical cords, rotten and twisted and bringing them together ever since they were in the womb.

He saw a flutter of black join the gore on the floor. One of Henry’s gloves, discarded. He pulled away to see Henry’s ungloved hand reach between the two of them, unbuckling Travis’s belt first, then his own, a fucked up facsimile of unwrapping birthday presents they never got to share. Travis watched with rapt attention as his brother pulled both of them from the confines of their pants and lined them up against each other.

A chill down his spine. It was just as Travis had thought. They were identical after all.

That mere fact made him feel things he’d rather not feel. He bucked up into Henry’s grip as he tried to adjust to the combined girth of them both, ungloved hand warm and sweaty and squeezing just right.

Henry spat on their joined hardnesses to aid the glide of his hand, and Travis almost laughed at how unbecoming of him it was. Like they were kids spitting off the ledge of a balcony to see which one would hit the ground first. Suddenly, Travis didn’t want to be outdone by his brother, so he spat on their dicks as well. The warmth was divine.

Travis brought his own hand down to join his twin in the unhurried teasing of their lengths, sighing in Henry’s ear as they fit perfectly together, like they were made just for this.

“I wonder,” Henry breathed back in Travis’s space, “On that day, just what were you hoping to gain from getting close to me?”

“Answers,” the word spilled from Travis’s loose lips before he could reign himself in, just as vague as the question it was responding to. Making no sense at all. Henry huffed in his ear, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I have as many answers as you do, little brother.”

The title, so rarely used, sent a sick rush of electricity down Travis’s spine and through his dick, jolting in Henry’s hand. Henry stopped his ministrations to peek at their joined hips, then looked up at Travis’s flushed face and grinned. Travis’s fight or flight response had never activated that quickly in his entire life.

“Oh, you sick fuck!” Henry jeered. “You like it when I call you my little, baby brother?”

Travis’s dick jumped again and spilt translucent pre-cum over their hands. Henry laughed. Travis wanted to kill him and then himself.

It wasn’t his fault that he had turned out this way. Years of pining after a brother he never knew twisted his psyche in horrible, unexplainable ways. Unnatural, yes, but what was he supposed to do about it? Plus, with the way Henry kept reminding him of who was younger and who was older, he was sure the other had his own unhealthy dose of a brother complex. Travis was willing to bet if he called him ‘big brother’, Henry would immediately bust a nut right there.

Too bad he wasn’t actually that far gone to call him that. Yet. Instead, a strained “Shut up,” was what he gritted through his teeth and forced Henry’s hand to move faster. Trying desperately to wipe away any evidence of his weakness.

In response, Henry squeezed the tips of their lengths with such venomous ferocity, it punched all the precious air out of Travis’s lungs. He grabbed Travis’s waist and pressed their hips together with such fervour, like he was trying to meld their bodies into one, the way it was meant to be since the beginning.

Travis gasped into Henry’s open mouth, sharing the toxicity that filled their lungs in the small space between them, only a hair's breadth away from plunging into that well of sweet poison. The unforgivable mistake he’d wanted to make since their first meeting. But Henry, cruel and cold as he was, moved his lips away from Travis’s at the last minute, instead latching them onto his exposed jugular. The feather light flutter of his lips were replaced by dull teeth, biting hard enough to bruise and wrench a surprised cry from Travis’s throat. He grabbed Henry’s hair and pulled him away by force, a snarl on both their faces. Twin tigers too old to be play-fighting still.

Henry shook himself free from Travis’s grasp, instead laying his sweat-slicked forehead against his brother’s, staring deep and hazy into an identical pair of eyes. Their hands gripping and moving feverishly now, their bodies undulating in mirrored desperation. They were both panting and groaning with increasing abandon now, the dismembered bodies at their feet the only ones fated to hear the sinful symphony of two wounded animals in heat.

Nose to nose like this, nothing was stopping Travis from closing the gap between their lips the way he’d wanted to for ages. But the moment he moved forward, Henry ducked his head between Travis’s throat and shoulder again. Travis whined without thinking and then almost died at how pathetic he sounded.

Why did he refuse to kiss him? Was that somehow more sinful than what they were already doing? Where was this line Henry refused to cross and was it not the same one they’d blazed through long, long ago?

Fine. If that was the game Henry wanted to play, Travis would oblige. He mustered all of his frustration and anger and every other feeling he couldn’t name and bit Henry exactly where he was biting Travis. A two-headed snake eating itself.

The taste of Henry’s blood filled his senses, so intense it gave him a head rush. He heard Henry groan –or was that himself?-- and that forbidden fruit mixed with the crescendo of ecstasy in their heated loins was enough to send them both falling down into the dark chasm of debauchery. The evidence of their sin coated their hands, warm and sticky, and they both gasped their pleasure into each other’s skin. A view of Paradise from the deepest pits of hell.

Breaking away from the embrace was a monumental task. Travis was spent and exhausted, his brother’s presence was warm and all-encompassing. Wasn’t it natural to just stay this way, then? That way, he wouldn’t have to think about what came next.

Henry pulled him away by force, studying his face with an unreadable gaze. Without his sunglasses, the direct stare was too intense for Travis to bear. He wiped his dirtied hand on Henry’s pants to lighten the mood, get a rise out of him, make him yell, anything other than this suffocating silence.

Henry didn’t have the energy to say anything it seemed, he only rolled his eyes and wiped his own hand on Travis’s jeans as payback. Travis opened his mouth to complain but closed it immediately when Henry went to tuck him back into his jeans without a word.

A dutiful older brother taking care of his younger brother. The thought made Travis want to puke. He mirrored Henry’s actions and tucked him into his pants in return, so that he wouldn’t have to owe anything to him. Now they were truly even.

He picked up his blood-stained sunglasses from the floor, and as he was debating what to say next, he heard the distant rumbling of a motorcycle’s engine outside the building. He looked to Henry just to see his expression sour. Resignation and defeat were written on his face clear as day.

Oh. So it was her.

“Go now,” Henry turned away without a second glance and started down the corridor, away from the exit. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

Travis didn’t watch him leave. He turned and went to her just as he was told, smelling of blood and guts and misery.

The same as Henry.