BRO STRIDER:

This writing sample comes from an A/B/O AU. It's dated: 09/09/22.

It’s been a hell of a day. Bro’s been cooped up in his studio for the majority of it, rocking little to no clothing as he experiments with unconventional niche kinks for his online audience. He’s an alpha that’s unafraid to play where others dare not follow and they eat it up like candy. Sitting on a knotted toy when he’s just not meant for such things makes for delicious content and there’s an endless stream of patrons with a plethora of suggestions they’re willing to pay him to see. Bro racks up hundreds of dollars with one livestream, not that he needs the money when his smuppet industry makes thousands a month.

Locking the door to his studio behind him, Bro strides over to the bathroom clad in only a pair of orange boxers. They drop to the floor with a flutter of cloth seconds after he shuts the door. Kicking them into his laundry basket, Bro turns on the shower and takes a minute to adjust the temperature until it’s steaming hot. He hisses as he steps under the spray, his shoulders immediately relaxing under the beating water pressure. Giving himself a moment to just enjoy it, Bro wonders at how quiet the day’s been. Usually he’s heard something from his kid sibling by now (even if it’s just the sound of their wandering around the apartment) and that he hasn’t is a little weird.

Bro’s shower is quick and soon enough, he’s drying himself off and stepping out of the tub. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he knots it at the side and steps from the bathroom to the kitchen. The fridge opens with a cacophony of shitty swords that he quickly captchalogs before reaching for the orange juice in the door drawer. Bro pours himself a glass before throwing it back, gulping down the sweet juice and wetting his whistle. He discards his cup in the sink before returning the OJ and shitty swords back to the fridge.

It’s a quick trip down the hall to his sibling’s room. Bro knocks his knuckles sharply against the door and says, “Hey kid, you alive in there or am I going to have to drag your ass out of bed?” When there’s not an immediate response, Bro’s brows furrow. Clearing his throat, he knocks a second and then a third time before reaching for the door knob. It’s unlocked and the door easily opens, Bro steps into the room and it feels like he’s walking into a physical barrier of scent. It practically knocks him off his feet, has him salivating and his own smell stinking up the room in a small explosion of burnt wires, leather, and oranges.

It takes Bro long seconds to catch up to what his body is telling him. Dave’s scent is so thick in the room that he can feel it coat the back of his tongue in a thin film. He rakes his teeth over it as if he could scrape it off, spit it away, but it’s already too late. Bro can feel the way his pulse escalates, pulsing in time to a heartbeat that jackrabbits as he takes deep, heavy breaths and steeps himself in Dave’s scent. It’s apple and musk, a chemical burn at the back of his throat that’s never been more attractive before.

Omega. Dave has the very distinct scent of omega and Bro has never been one to give two shits about them before, but now the very promise has his mouth watering. All his life, Bro has turned his nose up at the prospect of omegas, at anything that could take his tightly wound control and throw it out the window. Yet here he is, undoubtedly affected by it, his body straining with the will to resist the territorial urge to put his hands on his brother. They clench into fists at his sides and leave pale crescents in his palms. He’s suddenly aware of his own breathing, loud and labored in the stunned silence of the room.

Dave stammers something out, and the words just kind of muffle themselves into indiscernible sounds. Bro shakes his head just once, can see the way Dave’s lips are moving, but all he can hear is the dull sound of ringing in his head. It narrows down to a pinpoint, becomes a high-pitched scream that barrels through his head, and his control snaps all at once. Before Bro can register what he’s doing, he has Dave crowded back against his bed, a hand wrapped around his throat and his fingers clenching around pale, unmarked skin. With his thumb pressed against his windpipe and his hard cock pressed against his groin, Bro stuffs his face against Dave’s neck and breathes him in.

Apples, a sting at the back of his throat that hurts, but in a way that makes him want to devour Dave whole. He rubs his nose against the swollen gland there, laves his tongue around it and sucks it into his mouth. It tastes like soap and skin and sweat. Bro can’t get enough of it, can’t stop himself from mindless, frantic nipping. His teeth scrape against the skin, but not hard enough to break it, to bleed. Not yet. He loosens his hold against Dave’s windpipe, allows the boy a chance to suck in the smallest of breaths. A handful of seconds go by before he reinforces his hold, pressing down firmly and cutting off Dave’s air supply.

“Christ,” Bro hisses against Dave’s neck after releasing the lump of gland from his mouth. “I’m going to eat you alive. I’m going to rip you open with my teeth and see what makes you twitch.” His voice is a low rumble and his stubble scrapes against the delicate skin of the nape of his neck. “Say your prayers, little man, because tonight I’m God. It’ll be a blessing if I don’t kill you and then myself.” He kisses Dave then, steals whatever breath he might have been able to get when he’d lessened his grip on his windpipe. It’s a brutal kiss, all teeth and tongue. Bro coaxes Dave’s lips open with his tongue, twines them together before sucking. His tongue flashes around the roof of his mouth, over his teeth, before returning to his for another suck.

Please Note: I also have a few Homestuck fic on my A03 account (see below).

Header Art by MintyStxPro. | Background Art by Tenshiikisu.

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