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chris can’t handle praise to save his life.
he’ll duck his head, hide his smile, pretend he’s just adjusting his hair or scratching his cheek, anything to not make it obvious that he melts the second his brothers give him anything soft.
and that’s the part matt and nick actually love.
not the quiet— they’d lose their minds if chris ever stopped talking— but the way he gets shy. the way he gets small in a trusting, safe way. how he sits there waiting for them to tell him he did something right.
nick will nudge his knee against chris’s, subtle but affectionate, and it makes chris’s whole posture tighten like he just got hit with a compliment bat.
matt’s the worst about it. he’ll let out this tiny laugh, the one he only ever uses on chris, and then he’ll say something like, “see? you’re tolerable when you actually listen.” and chris, blushing like an idiot, will mutter, “shut up,” but it’s all breath, no bite. nick leans back, arms crossed, pretending he’s above it all, but he loves this shit.
both of them do.
because chris is their irritation, their constant chaos, the walking disaster they complain about daily.
but he’s also their softest thing. their puppy. the one who folds the second they treat him gently.
and even on the days they swear he’s the bane of their existence, they wouldn’t survive a single hour without him.
nick does it first, always. he has that older-brother voice that drops without him meaning to. they’ll be in the kitchen, matt rummaging for something, chris leaning on the counter being a menace, and nick will try to redirect him like, “hey, chill for a second.”
a pretty normal and casual thing to say— if you ignore the fact that nick’s hand snakes ever so slightly up his shirt as he says the words, thumbing against chris’s bare skin.
and chris freezes. like someone hit pause on him.
well, now how the fuck is he supposed to chill?
he tries to play it off— clear his throat, act like he’s unfazed, like he’s not this easy— but the pink in his cheeks betrays him instantly.
matt catches it and loves it. he’ll smirk to himself, not even looking at chris, just quietly filing it away like yeah, that worked.
and then matt starts using it too, but in that lazy, barely-aware way that makes it worse.
like chris will be walking past him and bump his shoulder and matt goes, “careful, baby.”
and chris nearly trips over nothing because what the hell is he supposed to do with that. he hates how much he likes it. or at least he pretends to hate it.
he’ll glare and mumble something like “don’t call me that,” but he says it so quietly it might as well be permission.
but the worst one— the one that completely breaks him— is “puppy.”
they say it when chris is actually behaving.
when he’s sitting next to them, calm, finally still, hands clasped, listening.
nick will reach out, curl a hand around the back of chris’s neck, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw, and murmur, “good puppy.”
chris folds. absolutely folds. head ducking, shoulders up, cheeks bright red. he becomes soft in that instinctive, instinctual way— like he wants to bury himself into the touch, like he was literally born to be their little brother.
and matt watches him with this smug, gentle look— the one he never admits he has— and goes, “knew you liked that.”
shakes his head, denying it, but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans in closer.
and nick, knowing exactly what he’s doing, adds, “that’s why we call you that, angel. you get all sweet for us.”
chris almost whimpers.
he hides his face in his sleeve, knees drawn up a little, this whole shy, overwhelmed posture he only ever shows around them.
and matt and nick exchange that look— the one that says yeah, he annoys the hell out of us, but he’s ours, and we wouldn’t trade this for anything.
in other instances, simple pet names won’t cut it.
he’s wound up, talking too fast, pacing, hands everywhere, doing that thing where he laughs too loud for no reason.
and matt will just grab him.
not rough— not even annoyed, really— just a firm hand on his wrist or the back of his hoodie, tugging him closer like he’s saying come here, enough.
chris stumbles into him every time, eyes wide, breath catching because he knows what’s coming before it happens.
nick watches, leaning against the counter or the doorway, arms crossed like he’s bored, but he’s not. his eyes soften the second chris stops moving.
then matt cups his jaw— thumb brushing the corner of his mouth— and chris instantly goes quiet.
like flipping a switch. like that’s all it takes to turn him from chaos to something soft and waiting.
“look at me,” matt murmurs, and chris does, immediately. and then matt kisses him. slow. intentional. not teasing. not rushed. just steady, grounding pressure that makes chris melt so fast it’s embarrassing. his whole body goes loose, hands fisting in matt’s shirt, knees almost buckling because he needs it, needs the contact more than he needs oxygen.
nick steps in behind him, sliding a hand up his spine, under the hem of his shirt, warm and careful. he presses a kiss to the back of chris’s neck, then his shoulder, then the edge of his jaw once matt pulls back. and chris practically whimpers at that— that mix of being held between them, kissed from both sides, treated like something precious instead of something annoying.
“good,” nick whispers against his skin. “such a sweet boy when you listen.”
chris’s eyes flutter, lips parted, cheeks flushed. he leans back into nick automatically, like his body knows where to go before his brain does. he tilts his head to give nick more space, and nick takes it, kissing down to that spot just below his ear that makes him shiver.
matt watches with this lazy, proud look, then steps in again, fingers curling under chris’s chin to bring his mouth back up to his. “you like this too much,” matt whispers, smiling into the kiss. and chris can’t even argue. he can barely think. he chases every kiss like he’s starving, like affection is the one thing he was wired to crave beyond everything else.
and honestly? matt and nick adore it. they adore that he melts. that he softens. that he doesn’t try to hide how much he needs them when they touch him like that.
because for all the noise he makes, for all the irritation he causes, for all the chaos they pretend to hate… the truth is simple: chris is never sweeter, never quieter, never more himself than when he’s being kissed. and matt and nick will give him that— as often as he needs— because nothing in the world makes him feel more loved than being held close and kissed until he forgets how to talk.
but situations like this usually escalate when matt’s trying to talk.
trying.
and chris is doing that thing where he interrupts every five seconds with some stupid joke or noise or half-formed thought that has nothing to do with anything.
matt’s halfway through a sentence when chris cuts in again, louder this time, waving his hands like the main character in a story no one asked for. matt’s jaw clenches. “can you—” but chris keeps going.
nick doesn’t even bother with a warning. he just moves.
one second he’s leaning against the counter, the next he’s behind chris, grabbing him by the waist and dragging him back a step.
“hey,” nick murmurs, low. calm. too calm. chris freezes instantly, breath catching like someone pulled a plug.
“what—”
nick turns him around by the chin, firm but not rough, fingers sliding up to cradle his jaw. it’s effortless, practiced, like he’s done it a hundred times (because he has).
before chris can get another word out, nick kisses him. hard. not messy— controlled. but undoubtedly rough.
shutting him up with precision.
matt stops talking mid-sentence because even he can’t pretend he isn’t watching.
chris melts. immediately. hands gripping nick’s shirt, body leaning forward like he wants to crawl into the kiss.
he makes this tiny, muffled sound in his throat— half whine, half surprise— and nick deepens it just enough to steal the rest of the noise.
nick pulls back slowly, keeping his fingers on chris’s jaw so he can’t chase the kiss, even though he tries. hard. his whole body strains forward, lips parted, eyes blown out. “nick…” chris whines, instinctively craning his head forward for more. “why’d you—”
nick kisses the corner of his mouth once, just to shut him up again, and then his voice drops into that low, older-brother tone that obliterates chris’s entire brain.
“are you gonna be good and let matt speak, baby?”
chris’s breath stutters. his knees actually fucking wobble. he nods. too fast, too eager. he’ll do whatever it takes to keep this going.
nick raises his eyebrows. “words.”
chris swallows, cheeks pink, voice small as hell. “yeah. i’ll be good.”
nick strokes his thumb along chris’s cheek, softening instantly. “attaboy.” and chris just stands there: quiet, flushed, completely pliant— like all the noise got kissed out of him.
matt crosses his arms, staring in disbelief. “…that’s all it takes?”
nick smirks. “apparently.”
chris, still breathless, still leaning into nick’s hand like a fucking puppy, mumbles, “shut up,” but it comes out so soft it’s practically a plea.
matt goes back to talking, and chris listens. perfectly. silently. obedient in a way that makes both of them want to kiss him all over again.
and nick, standing behind him with a hand on his hip, leans down just enough to whisper against chris’s ear, “good baby.”
and chris whimpers. quietly. but not quiet enough.
matt keeps talking, finally finishing the point he’s been trying to make for ten minutes.
he pretends he’s focused, but his eyes flick up every few seconds because chris is just… standing there.
actually quiet. actually still.
nick’s still behind him, one hand resting low on his waist, thumb brushing small, absent-minded circles like he’s petting him. and chris is eating it up, leaning back into the touch like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.
his hips stutter every so often as an involuntary reaction to nick’s touch, and the movement is so small and insignificant, but uncontrolled enough for matt to note, of course. his breathing is uneven.
he’s trying so, so hard to be good.
matt finally looks up and sighs. “okay. see? that wasn’t so hard.”
chris’s face goes pink again. “i wasn’t even—”
nick squeezes his hip. not a warning. just enough to push him back into softness.
chris goes silent instantly, eyes half-lidded, lips parted.
he’s so easy it kills them.
matt steps closer, eyebrow raised. “you good there?”
chris nods, too fast, too eager again. “mhm.”
nick huffs a tiny laugh behind him. “you’re ridiculous.”
chris turns his head slightly like he wants to answer, wants to defend himself, but the second he opens his mouth, nick leans down and kisses under his ear— slow, warm, deliberately gentle.
chris gasps. his knees actually buckle for a second. nick catches him easily.
matt mutters, “jesus,” but it’s not annoyance at all— it’s fascination.
nick keeps his mouth near chris’s skin, barely touching. “you wanna talk?” he murmurs. “go ahead. try.”
it’s a challenge. a cruel one.
chris swallows hard, clinging to nick’s arm with both hands.
he tries. “i just— i can—” his voice cracks on nothing.
he bites his lip, frustrated, embarrassed, needy.
nick smirks against his neck. “that’s what i thought.”
chris whines. loudly. and immediately slaps a hand over his own mouth, mortified.
matt loses it.
he steps right into chris’s space, tilting his chin up with two fingers.
“chris,” matt says softly, and that alone makes chris’s knees shake again. “you don’t have to hide it.”
chris lowers his hand slowly, looking up at matt now, his pupils dilating with hunger as he takes in the sight of the middle triplet.
matt leans in closer. “you like being handled. just admit it.”
chris’s face goes scarlet. he shakes his head, trying to deny it, but he’s leaning into matt’s hand like a fucking magnet.
nick murmurs from behind him, “yeah? then why’re you shaking, angel?”
chris squeezes his eyes shut and whispers, “i’m not.” nick chuckles, low and warm. “you are.”
matt brushes his thumb over chris’s bottom lip. “you always get like this when we kiss you.”
chris practically collapses at that, body melting back against nick, head tipping forward like he can’t hold himself up anymore.
nick’s arm wraps instantly around his middle, steadying him. “look at you,” nick says softly. “we kiss you once and you turn into this.”
chris lets out the tiniest sound, something between a whimper and a breath.
matt smirks, leaning even closer. “you want another one?”
chris nods. shaky. desperate. already leaning forward like he’s begging.
nick holds him still with one hand spread across his stomach, voice low in his ear. “then ask.” and chris freezes— torn between pride and need.
he’s breathing so hard they sound like whimpers, lips parted, whole body trembling because he wants it so bad but asking might actually kill him.
nick kisses his neck, slow, patient. “come on, baby. say it.”
and chris finally breaks. soft. tiny. almost whispered: “kiss me.”
both of them move at once.
the second the words leave his mouth, it’s like the whole room tightens around him.
matt’s eyes darken instantly— hungry in that quiet, controlled way that always destroys chris more than anything loud ever could.
nick exhales behind him, low and pleased, hand sliding just a little higher on chris’s stomach like he’s rewarding him simply for speaking. “good boy,” nick murmurs against his ear, and chris shivers so hard it’s basically a tremor.
matt’s thumb traces the corner of chris’s mouth, tilting his jaw up. “that wasn’t so hard,” he says softly. “you just had to ask.”
chris opens his mouth to reply— maybe to argue, maybe to beg again— but matt doesn’t let him.
instead, he kisses him. not soft this time. not gentle like he usually does compared to nick.
this one is deeper, slower, deliberate in a way that makes chris’s knees immediately give out.
so much, so that nick has to hold him up with both arms, chest pressed to chris’s back, steadying him while matt kisses the breath out of him.
chris whimpers into it— the sound broken, helpless— and matt swallows it whole.
nick kisses the side of chris’s neck at the same time, syncing with matt like they planned this for years.
one mouth on his lips, the other under his ear, and chris can’t handle it. he’s grabbing for matt’s shirt with one hand and nick’s wrist with the other, clinging like he might float away otherwise.
matt pulls back only when he feels chris starting to lose air, lips brushing his as he whispers, “look at you… you’re fucked.”
chris is panting, eyes half-closed, body limp against nick’s chest. he tries to say something— a word, a sound, anything— but nothing comes out.
nick smirks into the curve of his neck. “still wanna interrupt matt?” he teases, voice warm and playful in the worst way.
chris shakes his head instantly, desperate. “no— no, i’m not— i wasn’t— i’ll be good, i’ll be good—” the way he says it, all breath, all need, destroys them. matt actually lets out a low laugh, soft and disbelieving.
“you don’t even know what you’re saying,” matt murmurs, holding chris’s face with one hand. “you’re just trying to get kissed again.”
chris leans forward like a magnet, chasing matt’s mouth without shame.
nick chuckles behind him, tightening his hold. “told you he eats it up.”
matt hums, stroking chris’s cheek with his thumb. “he does,” he agrees. “look at him. he’s shaking.”
nick presses another slow kiss to the base of chris’s throat. “you want more?” nick asks quietly. chris nods. frantic. needy. completely undone.
matt lifts his chin with two fingers. “words,” he says again, soft but firm. chris swallows hard, voice tiny and ruined. “…please. i’ll be so good.”
nick groans into his skin. “fuck.”
matt leans in again, but this time he stops just shy of kissing him, breath brushing chris’s lips.
“gonna be so good?” matt parrots, his words hot against chris’s mouth.
chris whimpers at that, one hand pawing all over matt’s shirt while the other is still locked around nick’s arm, which is still tightly wrapped around chris’s waist.
“so good, so good, matty,” he reiterates, nosing forward ever so slightly to bridge the gap between their lips.
nick’s lips trail up to chris’s ear to nibble on it, leaving wet heat on his helix as he whispers, “you promise, pup?”
“i prom—“ chris interrupts himself with a moan as matt’s hands move down to his ass.
“promise,” he manages to fully get out, but now involuntarily jerking his hips into the touch.
which of course, they catch.
nick halts the thrust with his arm that’s already around chris’s hips. not because he doesn’t want chris to do that, but he wants him to use his words, and he knows matt wants the same.
nothing gets them more enamoured than hearing their usually jumpy, annoying, boundary-crossing brother be so obedient, begging them to do things to him.
“be good and tell us what you want,” matt says, his words still hot against chris’s lips as he toys with the back of chris’s waistband and gently squeezes his ass, his fingers slowly sliding underneath the band of chris’s sweatpants.
“i want,” chris whines softly, “want— want you to fuck me,” he almost cries out, his hips still jerking because he knows they aren’t strict about it, they just want to hear him say what he wants them to do to him.
“say it again,” nick smiles as he moves his mouth back down to chris’s neck, grazing the pale skin with his teeth.
“fuck me, please,” chris pleads, his eyes starting to gloss over with need.
and shit, hearing that is just as good as thinking about it.
and they’re about to find out, whether or not thinking about it even comes close to actually doing it.