Work Text:
For the past few nights, Hades had been plagued by the strangest dreams.
Every time the vision manifested, his sight would blur into the shadows, his head throbbing as if struck by a hammer. His entire body remained paralyzed, yet his lower half felt trapped—tightly encased, warm, and heavy with pressure. Above him, a silhouette moved in an uneven, rhythmic cadence, struggling to lower and lift itself against him. He couldn't make out the face, but the shock of golden hair stood in stark contrast to the dark, swaying with every motion. Faintly, his name echoed in his ears.
"H— hades..."
The whispers were so soft, as if the speaker wanted him to hear, yet desperately wanted to keep it hidden. As the pace quickened, the dream would shatter with a long, stifled groan caught in a throat.
Then, silence. Hades could never remember anything more.
When he woke, his body would be aching and drenched in sweat, yet filled with a bizarre sense of relief. Upon checking himself, the slight dampness in his underwear confirmed a shameful yet natural reaction. But Hades was long past the age of having wet dreams about faceless lovers. Reflecting on those erotic visions, he felt a sting of self-reproach, his face flushing slightly.
To be fair, Hades’ schedule had been grueling lately. He was an exceptional finance manager, a model employee, and a dependable eldest brother. He currently lived with his younger brother, Poseidon—a university student whose campus was near Hades’ apartment. As the year-end approached, life became a blur. Each day revolved around work, returning home, dining with his brother, and sleep. Hades didn't complain; seeing his brother every day was his only solace.
But perhaps because of this relentless pace, he had neglected himself. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he buried his face in his hands. Maybe he needed a day off to regain his footing. That dream... it wasn't bad, but the feeling of weary helplessness was truly unsettling.
When Hades finally emerged from his bedroom, Poseidon was already perched on the sofa reading, the TV humming with the morning's weather forecast. At the sight of his brother, Hades’ exhaustion seemed to evaporate. He offered a gentle, caring greeting.
"Good morning, little brother. You're up early these days."
The golden-haired boy shot a brief glance at his brother before returning his gaze to the pages. Hades thought nothing of it; his brother had always been "adorably" stoic like that. The morning atmosphere was filled with the drone of the news, the whir of the coffee maker, and the soft rustle of turning pages. A peaceful morning, just like any other.
"How are you feeling today?"
The question caught Hades off guard—it wasn't part of their usual routine. He didn't quite understand. Had his exhaustion become that visible? Probably. Not wanting to worry the boy, Hades replied warmly.
"The same as always. I'm fine."
They both knew "fine" was a lie. Poseidon didn't bother to peel back the mask Hades had donned, and Hades knew his brother wouldn't expose him. It was an inquiry where both already knew the answer.
"I’m heading to work then. See you."
As the door clicked shut, Poseidon closed his book. His deep blue eyes flickered with something unreadable. Confusion? Disgust? Relief? He didn't want to think about it.
And Hades still knew nothing.
---
The year-end project concluded successfully.
Hades breathed a sigh of relief; he could finally rest. That evening, to celebrate, Hades and his partners went out for drinks. Before leaving, he messaged Poseidon to say he’d be home late and told him not to bother with dinner. In everything he did, Hades thought of his brother first.
The party was more explosive than he had anticipated. As the "star employee," Hades was pressured into drinking until his face was flushed crimson. With his silver tongue, he managed to dodge the junior staff's toasts, but the bosses were another story—they were persistent. Later, the executives called in hostesses to cling to them and stroke their egos. They were beautiful, dressed provocatively, sitting on laps and whispering sweet nothings. Hades acknowledged their beauty, but that was all. He found himself more captivated by the figure from his dreams.
Wait, why was he thinking about that dream now?
Hades watched the hostesses and pondered. He felt nothing. If he had to say something, he’d simply call them pretty, and that was the end of it. Even when a girl with golden hair and a delicate face approached him to chat, his heart didn't skip a beat. Deftly declining her advances, he excused himself and headed home.
He had thought about it a lot, but he still didn't understand. What was it about that dream that possessed him so?
Upon returning home, the scene was unchanged from the morning. The room was brightly lit, Poseidon was still on the sofa reading, and the TV was summarizing the late-night news.
"I’m... home."
Poseidon looked at him, his gaze lingering a bit longer this time. Hades’ clothes were disheveled, his face flushed, his eyes glazed. Poseidon’s brow furrowed slightly. Sensing his brother’s disapproval, Hades quickly explained.
"I was drinking with the partners... I rushed back, so I'm a bit of a mess."
Poseidon withdrew his gaze. Hades knew his brother might not believe him, but he didn't know what else to say.
"You drank too much. Go rest."
Poseidon’s concern was always blunt like that. Hades sighed in relief, ruffling his brother’s hair in thanks before deciding to shower and go to bed. He had suffered enough lately.
The cold water chased away the heat of the alcohol — or rather, it dampened it, but didn't extinguish it. Hades collapsed into bed, his body still heavy and worn.
---
"Hah..."
A breath echoed in his ear.
Hades squinted. His vision was still blurred, but he saw that silhouette again, undulating over his body. His lower half was encased in warm flesh. Unaware that he had awakened, the figure’s rhythm didn't change — though it seemed more strained now, filled with a pitiful desperation.
"It’s not right... I can't... today..."
As the figure let out a low, desperate moan and prepared to lift itself away, Hades instinctively grabbed the person's wrist before his brain could tell him it was his brother.
"Posei—"
Poseidon jumped, his entire body freezing as if he had committed a capital crime. Then again, sleeping with one's brother was certainly a sin worthy of death. Overwhelmed by sensitivity and his brother’s firm grip, Poseidon shivered. He remained silent, casting a tense, harrowing look at Hades. His brother’s hand was burning; his own skin was on fire.
"This is a dream... right...?"
A foolish question. All those nights, all those climaxes shared with that shadow — it was all a dream, wasn't it? There was no way his younger brother would climb onto him in longing. How could his brother crave him?
He wanted to believe it was a dream. He wanted to dream forever. The truth would kill him.
He tried to steady his vision, looking closely at the face before him. Golden hair, blue eyes — agitated, mournful, looking as if they were about to shatter. A look he had never seen on his brother before. Poseidon wore an oversized hoodie, which failed to hide the hardness between his legs that throbbed with a painful ache. His cheeks were flushed; his breath was shallow.
A scene of pure lust unfolded before Hades' eyes.
The silence was agonizing. Poseidon, with the last shred of his dignity, tried to pull away, tears pricking his eyes from shame. But his brother only held his wrist tighter.
If this is a dream, then let’s see it through. Hades lied to himself.
Hades pulled his brother into his arms, pressing his lips against the boy's. Poseidon initially tried to evade him, but Hades surged forward with such fervor that Poseidon had no choice but to yield, letting his brother's tongue invade and claim every breath.
"Sorry..."
Poseidon whimpered between kisses. He was apologizing for being the one to drag Hades into the abyss, for leading him to taste the forbidden fruit all those nights. His voice trembled as he tried to pull back, seeking a moment of sanity, while Hades was already beyond the point of waking up.
"It’s okay, little brother. Shall we start over?"
Hades broke the kiss, his voice tender and caring, yet his hands were anything but calm as they began to roam his brother’s body.
Think about it; for nights, it was this body that had brought him to ecstasy. It was this body that drove him mad. His own brother was the one who made him peak; how could he ever hate him? Hades couldn't wait another second to finally be the one on top. He had endured enough frustration.
His kisses trailed from the neck down to the chest. With every press of his lips, Hades lingered, as if wanting to devour every inch of him. Poseidon was still caught between his newfound logic and his shattered dignity, his soft moans trapped in the back of his throat. Realizing his brother’s shame, Hades pressed his lips to Poseidon’s again to reassure him.
"It’s okay. I don't hate you."
The kisses continued downward. Hades tugged at the hoodie, while Poseidon instinctively tried to hold it down. Until now, it had only ever been Poseidon touching himself, stroking himself in the dark. Even in his despair, it was something he did alone. His pride wouldn't allow him to show weakness before anyone, especially not his brother. Now, being touched, being caressed, and whimpering beneath him, Poseidon didn't know how to react. His eyes knew too much, yet understood nothing at all. His nipples throbbed. No one had ever touched him like this before.
Hades didn’t let go. His grip on Poseidon’s wrist was a tether, anchoring his brother to the bed, and to the reality of what was happening between them.
"What did you mean?" Hades rasped, his eyes searching Poseidon’s fractured gaze. "When you said it wouldn't work... 'not tonight'?"
Poseidon flinched, his breath hitching in a way that sounded dangerously like a sob. He tried to look away, to bury his burning face in the shadows of the pillow, but Hades’ presence was everywhere. The shame was a physical weight, pressing the air from his lungs.
"Usually... it’s not like this," Poseidon whispered, his voice trembling with a fragile, shattered dignity. "Normally, I can... I can make it work. But tonight, I don't know why. It’s too much. It wouldn’t... it wouldn't fit. I was going to stop."
He couldn't bring himself to say the truth. He couldn't confess that he had spent the entire evening pacing the living room, his heart twisting with a bitter, cold jealousy while Hades was out drinking late. He couldn't admit that the smell of alcohol and the sight of Hades’ disheveled clothes had made him move with a desperate, angry haste; a frantic need to reclaim his brother that had only left his body coiled in a tension he couldn't break. His pride, the last fortress he had left, forbade him from showing how much Hades' late arrival had hurt him.
Hades watched the play of emotions across his brother’s face: the pride, the pain, and the raw, unadulterated longing. The alcohol in Hades’ system made his empathy feel sharp and his desires even sharper. He understood, perhaps better than Poseidon wanted him to.
"It’s because you’re tense," Hades murmured, his voice dropping into a low, soothing vibration that sent shivers down Poseidon’s spine. "You’ve been waiting too long. You’re overthinking it."
"I'm not—"
"Shh." Hades silenced him by pressing a thumb against his lower lip. "Relax. We have all night. If it doesn't fit, it’s because we haven't taken our time."
Hades moved with a slow, deliberate grace, hovering over Poseidon until their chests brushed through the fabric of their clothes. His palms grazing the shivering skin of Poseidon’s waist. The contact was electric.
"Let me help you," Hades whispered against the shell of Poseidon’s ear, his breath hot and smelling faintly of wine.
The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the scent of salt and the lingering heat of Hades’ touch. As Poseidon’s resistance finally ebbed away, Hades moved his hand lower, his fingers tracing the trembling inner line of his brother’s thigh.
He began to explore the narrow entrance, his fingers moving with a slow, agonizing patience. As he did, he realized why Poseidon had been so distressed. The preparation was there, but it was haphazard; the muscles were still too taut, the opening unyielding. Poseidon had tried to force his body to be ready, driven by a desperate, hurried Need to reclaim Hades after hours of jealous waiting. He had been so impatient to feel his brother that he had nearly hurt himself in the process.
Poseidon let out a sharp, choked gasp, his head snapping back against the pillow as Hades’ fingers pushed deeper, gently but firmly stretching the tight heat.
"It’s... it’s not working," Poseidon wheezed, his pride crumbling into raw vulnerability. "I tried... but it won't—"
"Because you were in a rush," Hades interrupted softly, his gaze never leaving Poseidon’s face. He could see the exhaustion and the traces of a long night’s anxiety in his brother’s eyes. "You shouldn't have to do this alone, Poseidon."
Hades leaned down, his lips brushing against Poseidon’s damp forehead as he continued his slow, rhythmic work. He was meticulous, undoing the knots of tension with a steady persistence that forced Poseidon to breathe, to open, to surrender.
"From now on," Hades whispered, his voice possessing a new, terrifyingly tender authority, "don't ever do this to yourself again. Don't worry about being ready for me."
He slid another finger in, feeling the way Poseidon’s body finally began to yield, the initial friction giving way to a soft, inviting warmth. Poseidon’s eyes fluttered shut, a long, shaky breath escaping his lips as the pain of the tension was replaced by a heavy, blossoming ache of pleasure. He was a little confused. Perhaps his brother was disappointed that he was such a spoiled brat who touched himself to make out with him. He didn't even do it properly, needing his brother to finish it for him. Embarassed, he didn't make a sound aloud, afraid of further judgment from his brother.
"From now on, let me be the one to prepare you," Hades promised, his hand moving with a mastery that left Poseidon senseless. "You don't need to struggle. You only need to lie back and enjoy what I give you."
Poseidon couldn't find the strength to argue. His dignity was a distant memory, burned away by the heat of Hades’ focus. He simply arched his back, a broken, needy sound escaping his throat as he finally, completely, gave himself over to his brother’s care.
The tension in the room shifted, turning from a slow, agonizing stretch into a frantic, building heat. Hades’ movements became more rhythmic, his fingers continued to work deep within him, finding the exact spots that made the younger man’s toes curl into the sheets.
Poseidon was unraveling. His breath came in short, jagged bursts, his hips stuttering upward in a desperate search for friction. He was so close—the white heat of release was clawing at his nerves, ready to shatter him.
Suddenly, Poseidon’s hand shot out, clutching Hades’ wrist with a strength born of pure desperation.
"Wait... stop," he gasped, his voice cracking.
Hades froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked down at his brother, concern flickering through the haze of his own arousal. "Did I hurt you? Is it too much?"
"No," Poseidon breathed, his chest heaving as he fought for air. He shook his head, his golden hair damp and messy against the dark pillowcase. He looked up at Hades, his blue eyes clouded with an intensity that bordered on hunger. "Not yet."
Before Hades could respond, Poseidon shifted his weight, crawling down the bed with a fluid, predatory grace that caught Hades off guard. The vulnerability from moments ago was still there, but it was being eclipsed by a fierce, silent determination.
He knelt between Hades’ legs, his hands—still trembling slightly—reaching for the button of Hades’ trousers. He didn't look up, but the tips of his ears were a bright, burning crimson.
"Poseidon, you don't have to—"
"I want to," Poseidon interrupted, his voice hushed but firm. He finally looked up, his gaze locking onto Hades’ with a raw honesty that was more intimate than any touch.
Without waiting for permission, he leaned forward. Hades let out a sharp, guttural groan as he felt the first touch of Poseidon’s warm breath against his skin. The shift in power was staggering; the younger brother, who had been hiding in the shadows and weeping in shame, was now taking control, his lips and tongue exploring Hades with a reverent, focused hunger.
Hades was teetering on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in his lower belly, threatening to snap. But just as the precipice came into view, he reached down, his fingers tangling firmly into the golden strands of Poseidon’s hair, gently but insistently pulling him away.
"Wait," Hades breathed, his voice ragged.
Poseidon looked up, his eyes glazed and lips slick, a flicker of confusion crossing his flushed face. He looked bereft, as if he had been denied a vital purpose, but Hades didn't let him dwell on it. He pulled his brother up the length of his body until they were face to face, the air between them charged with the scent of their shared intimacy.
Hades cupped Poseidon’s face, his thumbs brushing over the corners of his mouth, wiping away a stray trail of saliva with a tenderness that made Poseidon’s heart ache.
"Does your jaw hurt?" Hades asked softly, his gaze searching Poseidon’s for any sign of discomfort. "You were going too deep, too fast. You don't have to hurt yourself to please me."
Poseidon shook his head mutely, leaning into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. The mundane, brotherly concern amidst such a carnal act shattered his defenses more than any rough touch could have. "I'm fine," he whispered, though his voice was raw.
"I know," Hades murmured, shifting his hips. "But now, I want to feel you. Everywhere."
He guided Poseidon to straddle his waist. This was it. The haunting tableau that had plagued Hades’ sleep for weeks was finally solidifying into reality. The vague silhouette was replaced by the visceral weight of his brother’s thighs, the warmth of his skin, and the pale moonlight tracing the curve of his spine.
"Sink down," Hades commanded gently, his hands resting on Poseidon’s hips to steady him.
Poseidon obeyed. With a shaky breath, he lowered himself, taking Hades in inch by agonizing inch. The stretch was immense, filling him so completely that he had to throw his head back, a silent scream of sensation trapped in his throat. When he was finally seated, the connection was absolute; a perfect, terrifying fit that felt like coming home and being lost all at once.
For a moment, they just breathed, acclimating to the intrusion of reality. Then, Poseidon began to move. He tried to mimic the rhythm of his solitary nights, keeping his lips pressed tightly together, determined to stifle the shameful sounds threatening to escape. He wanted to maintain some semblance of control, some shred of the "good little brother" image he had destroyed.
But Hades wasn't a figment of his imagination anymore. He wasn't a passive prop in a fantasy.
Sensing Poseidon’s restraint, Hades’ hands tightened on his hips. Instead of letting Poseidon set the pace, Hades suddenly bucked his hips upward, angling himself to hit a spot deep inside that Poseidon hadn't even known existed.
"Ah—!"
Poseidon’s eyes snapped open, wide with shock, his clamp on silence broken by a sharp, surprised cry. It wasn't pain, but it was a sensation so alien, so intense, that it felt like an electric shock running up his spine.
"Strange, isn't it?" Hades whispered, watching the unraveling with dark satisfaction. He moved again, grinding in a deliberate circle that made Poseidon’s knees weak.
"You can’t imagine this part, can you? Reality feels different."
"It... it feels weird... Hades, stop, it’s too..." Poseidon stammered, his hands gripping Hades’ shoulders for dear life, his body trembling violently. The sensation was overwhelming: too full, too deep, scraping against nerves that made his toes curl and his vision swim.
"Don't hold it back," Hades coaxed, thrusting upward again, mercilessly targeting that sweet, sensitive spot. "Let me hear you. Let me hear that this is real."
Hades pulled Poseidon down into a kiss, his lips capturing the younger man's mouth with a tenderness that stood in stark, jarring dissonance to the feral rhythm of his hips. Below the waist, he was relentless, driving into his brother with a hunger that had been starved for too long. But above, his kiss was a sanctuary: slow, deep, and reassuring.
Dream or reality — the line had finally dissolved, and Hades no longer cared to find it.
As he felt the heat of Poseidon’s body surrounding him, clutching at him, Hades realized that the morality of it didn't matter. The timeline didn't matter. He didn't care how long Poseidon had been sneaking into his bed, nor did he care about the taboo that should have kept them apart. All he knew was that this; flesh against flesh, the wet sound of their joining, the taste of Poseidon’s breath; felt infinitely better than any hollow fantasy.
"I love you," Hades whispered against Poseidon’s mouth, the confession slipping out between ragged breaths. It wasn't just brotherly affection anymore; it was a dark, all-consuming devotion.
Poseidon didn't answer with words; he couldn't. He was drowning in a sea of sensation that his solitary, stolen nights could never replicate. When he had touched himself in the dark, it was a lonely, desperate act of maintenance. But this? This was overwhelming. Being filled by Hades, being held by him, created a friction that set his nerves on fire.
He didn't explain why he had started climbing into his brother's bed. He didn't offer a reason for his twisted desire. And as Hades held him close, accepting him without judgment, a wave of profound gratitude washed over Poseidon. Hades didn't ask. He just took.
Sensing Poseidon was nearing his limit, Hades shifted. With a fluid, dominant motion, he rolled them over, pinning Poseidon beneath him. Now, Poseidon was laid bare, his legs spread wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly under the harsh moonlight.
"Look at you," Hades growled low in his throat.
He didn't stop moving, his thrusts becoming deeper, grinding against that sensitive interior spot with punishing precision. At the same time, his hands were everywhere; stroking Poseidon’s flushed sides, tweaking his nipples, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He played purely to torment and please, watching with dark satisfaction as Poseidon arched off the mattress, sobbing his brother’s name.
"Brother... I can't..."
"You can," Hades urged, his own control snapping as he felt the tightness around him spasm. "Come for me. Let it go."
The end came like a crash of waves. Poseidon cried out, a high, broken sound as he spilled onto his own stomach, his body convulsing in the throes of a blinding release. The sight of his brother’s unraveling was the final straw for Hades. With a guttural roar, he drove deep one last time, burying his face in the crook of Poseidon’s neck as he poured himself into the warmth of the one person he loved most.
The frenetic heat of the act slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a heavy, humid silence that blanketed the room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and spent desire, a tangible reminder of the boundary they had just crossed.
Hades did not pull away immediately. Instead, he stayed, holding Poseidon close, feeling the younger man’s heart hammer against his own like a bird finally beginning to settle. With a low, contented sigh, Hades began the aftercare; not with the detachment of a lover, but with the profound, protective devotion of a brother who had finally seen the truth.
He moved with a quiet, deliberate tenderness. Using the edge of the sheet, he began to wipe away the sweat and the traces of their shared sin from Poseidon’s skin. He was careful, his touch feather-light as he checked for any lingering discomfort.
As he worked, a somber thought crossed Hades' mind. He looked at Poseidon; now pale and pliant under the moonlight; and realized that for weeks, his brother had been doing this all alone. Poseidon had climbed into this bed, sought his own pleasure in the dark, and then had to clean himself up, quietly retreating to his own room to carry the weight of his guilt in solitude. He had been his own source of comfort and his own silent caretaker.
The realization made Hades’ heart ache with a protective pang. He leaned down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to the crown of Poseidon’s golden head.
"From now on," Hades whispered, his voice a vow against the quiet of the room, "you don't have to take care of yourself. I’ve got you."
Poseidon didn't move, but his breath hitched. He felt the warmth of Hades’ hands, the genuine care in every stroke of the cloth, and the terrifyingly sweet safety of being looked after. The shame was still there, lurking in the corners of his mind, but it was being drowned out by this new, gentle reality.
He allowed himself to go limp, surrendering his weight entirely to his brother’s strength. He stopped trying to maintain his dignity, stopped trying to be the "perfect" student or the "innocent" sibling. He simply fell; deeper and deeper; into the soft, velvet abyss of their shared transgression.
In the stillness of the night, Hades gathered Poseidon into his arms, tucking the blankets around them both. He felt a dark, quiet satisfaction. If this was a sin, it was a beautiful one. If they were meant to burn for this, at least they would burn together.