Rating:

Explicit

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

The Jungle

Relationship:

Nannam/Nanfah

Tags:

anal sex, blow jobs, codependency, hair pulling, hand jobs, jealousy, pre-canon, sharing a bed, spanking

Stats:

Posted on:

2023-08-11

Words:

4,114

His brother is the one who gets invited into The Jungle first. Nanfah doesn’t blame them—between them, Nannam has the grace and charisma, while he always told Nanfah that he had the subtlety of a wild animal. Nanfah doesn’t mind. That had always helped them get out of shadier situations when they were younger, when Nannam’s keen eye and quiet moves wouldn’t be enough.

Nannam casually mentions it to him that evening when he comes home, saying, “I made some friends today,” and then, “Have you been playing video games all day?”

Nanfah takes a slurp out of his soda. “Yup,” he says. “What friends?”

He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Nannam’s rolling his eyes. If he were anyone else, he might think that the twin-mind reading superstitions were bullshit. As it is, he’s a twin and any given moment without Nannam feels like he’s missing half of himself. Makes it harder when they’re pretending to be one person, but survival together is more important than Nanfah feeling incomplete.

Nannam hangs his suit jacket up, starts undoing his tie. “Met them at a club,” he says. “Rendezvous. They saw me getting cozy with a patron—thought they were going to kick me out, but instead they gave me their business card.” He frowns.

“Sounds like some nice guys,” Nanfah says, not looking up from the game. “Did you tell them about your dear younger brother?”

“No,” says Nannam, like Nanfah should’ve expected it. “We’re still doing this, right? I’m out looking for jobs, you’re—” he waves his hand at Nanfah “—doing whatever it is you’re doing all day.”

“Beating your high score,” Nanfah says.

Nannam laughs. Nanfah shouldn’t like the sound of his brother laughing at him so much, but years with this—only this—and Nanfah doesn’t even fight the shiver of delight anymore.

“You’ve been spending all day trying?” he says. “Little brother, you can’t beat me.”

“I’ll try,” Nanfah grumbles, sinking into the floor. “So did you sleep with that patron?”

Nannam takes the fake cuff links out of the ends of his sleeves—snake-shaped earrings Nanfah had stolen off a woman some years back. “Nah,” he says, and Nanfah holds himself back from saying, Good.

*

They share a flat together, on the rundown side of the neighborhood. Nanfah’s lost count of how many times they’ve moved now, but it’s a lot better than when they were younger when Nannam would shake him gently awake and whisper, “We’ve got to go,” and they’d have to leave whatever abandoned building they found, or a house where the family was on vacation, or a shed outside of someone else’s home. Now they pay rent and sometimes hold two or three jobs at once, depending on what Nanfah’s feeling like.

But they’re together, and that’s home. It’s always been that way.

His brother’s smarter than him, too. The day Nannam comes home with the news that he got a job as a financial advisor with a salary not to be sneezed at, Nanfah thinks at first that he’s joking.

“Don’t mess with me, man,” he says, as Nannam heads to the kitchen; his brother always loved cooking. “We’ve been needing an out for ages, it’s not funny—”

“I’m not messing with you,” Nannam says. “And what do you mean? This place is fine.”

Nanfah looks around their apartment—organized because Nannam keeps it so, but still with the walls peeling, the occasional insect running across the floor, their AC which hasn’t worked since they moved in and that their landlady said they’d have to pay the repairs to themselves. “Nan,” he says to his brother.

“Nan,” Nannam says back mockingly. Then, “I’m being serious, though. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Nanfah continues fiddling with the video game controller. He always thought that he was strange, because his brother was always better than him at everything—maths, books, video games. If they had the money, he would’ve graduated uni by now, years early. Yet Nanfah never felt particularly jealous of him, because he knew that Nannam was doing all of this for him, that Nannam wouldn’t be out ten hours a day chatting people up and stealing interview spots and looking for opportunities for a job or something better, if it wasn’t to make both of them happier. If it wasn’t to make Nanfah happier.

Nannam continues from the kitchen, “One moment I was telling a man at the bank to drop an investment since he was being stolen from, next thing you know he’s asking what school I went to.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“Home-schooled.”

Nanfah laughs. When he turns to Nannam again, he sees that his brother looks pleased from where he’s chopping cucumber. Nanfah turns off the video game and joins him, even though Nannam says he’s always a mess in the kitchen too.

“It’s just that easy for you, huh?” Nanfah asks, washing the cooking pot from last night.

“It’s just that easy for us,” Nannam corrects him. “And don’t prep the rice. You never use enough water.”

“I like my rice dry,” Nanfah says, but he obeys anyway, setting the pot back on the stove. “I got your favorite bread from the market today, by the way.”

Nannam’s eyes light up, but he doesn’t say much else. Nanfah knows his brother likes to pretend he’s the more mature, responsible one, even though Nanfah’s seen him eat so much of his favorite sweet bread before that he’d gotten sick. Nanfah should’ve stopped him back then but couldn’t; he’d stolen it for his brother, after all.

“Oh yeah,” Nannam adds. “And once I make enough money, we can buy you that new game you want.”

“The first thing you think of with your new money is to buy me video games? You spoil me,” Nanfah teases.

Nannam sticks the rest of the cucumber in Nanfah’s mouth to shut him up. “I’m being a good older brother,” he says, and Nanfah just smiles around the cucumber before eating it.

*

It’s Nanfah’s idea to swap places with Nannam the first time, when Nannam says regretfully that he has a work meeting so he can’t go to Rendezvous that night. Nanfah says, “I can go for you,” and Nannam thinks for one second, before shrugging and saying, “Why not?” and Nannam eagerly raids his wardrobe.

His brother’s told him stories about the guys, but it’s different seeing them in person. Petai, who follows the rules of the card game they play almost religiously; Hack, who hardly follows them at all. Nathee spends more time checking out girls at the bar, while Pine drinks and doesn’t talk until he sets his eyes on some girl Nanfah hadn’t noticed earlier and disappears for the night. It’s fun, and even with his brother’s name Nanfah tries to flirt with every girl who passes his way, and gets slapped in the face twice. He loves it.

“You’re aggressive today, aren’t you?” Hack says to him. “You usually wait for the girls to come to you first.”

Nanfah shrugs. “Feeling like something different today,” he says, taking a sip of the whiskey that definitely costs more than his and his brother’s flat. “Do you know how many girls in this bar I’ve slept with?”

Petai sends him a dry look. “All of them?”

“Don’t be that generous,” Nathee says. “I’ve seen Nan leave with only one or two girls. Hardly anyone, really.”

Even at that admission, Nanfah feels a burning jealous in his gut. Still, he laughs. “I think Petai’s closer,” he says, drinking out of his glass again. “I’m just not as obvious as you, phi.” He smirks.

Nathee glowers, but can’t say much with the girl practically sitting on his lap.

At the end of the night, before he can leave, Nanfah gets stopped by the bartender. “Nannam,” he says.

Nanfah blinks, then turns to him. “Who, me?”

The bartender smiles. “Yes,” he says, from where he’s polishing a glass. “Nannam. If that’s who you are.”

Nanfah laughs nervously. “Of course I am, who else would I be?”

For a long moment, the bartender continues cleaning the glass while watching him. Then he puts it down.

“You know, your twin didn’t mention anything about having a brother,” he says, cleaning his hands with the rag. “And typically, it’s against my policy for our secrets to be shared. This is, after all, off the grid. We don’t allow traitors or trash here.”

He’s looking at Nanfah now, completely serious. Nanfah swallows.

Then the bartender sighs. “But I suppose we can make an exception for you. I like you,” he says to Nanfah. “Both of you. Just don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” Nanfah says quickly.

The bartender smiles at him. “So you’re not Nannam,” he says. “Who are you?”

“Nanfah.”

“Nanfah,” the bartender repeats. “Nan. That’s easy enough.”

“Should we—” Nanfah starts, then stops when he gets looked at. “I mean. Are you going to tell them? Should I? Or my brother?”

He gets smiled at—not like a predator who’s about to catch his prey, but like a hunter who knows that even if the predator catches his prey, it doesn’t matter in the end. “Only if you want to,” the bartender says.

*

One or two girls, Nathee had said, and Nanfah pretends he can’t stop thinking about it until it becomes too much. The next night his brother goes out to Rendezvous, Nanfah drinks and drinks in their soon-to-be old flat, mashing furiously at the video game and not even trying to beat his brother’s high score anymore. It’s nothing, of course it’s nothing. And yet—

When Nannam comes home, Nanfah’s drunk and his brother’s tousled hair makes him feel like he’s on fire. “Hook up with another girl, did you?” he asks.

Nannam looks at him on the floor, at the foot of the couch. “Huh?”

Nanfah gets up. He tries not to sway. “I know you’ve been sleeping with girls at the bar,” he says to his brother. “Even though,” he hiccups, “even though you would’ve told me. If you were my brother.”

“Nan, you’re drunk.” Nannam goes over and tries to steady him by the shoulders. Nanfah smacks him away.

“You’re drunk,” he retorts. It’s true; he can smell the alcohol coming from Nannam. Or maybe it’s himself. “You’re supposed to be my brother. It’s supposed to be us.”

“It is us,” says Nannam, holding him steady.

Nanfah looks into his eyes, grabs him by the back of his neck, and kisses him.

Nannam makes a noise of surprise against his mouth. But Nanfah keeps kissing his brother, his mirror image, but brighter and smarter and cleverer, now stumbling backward as Nanfah hungrily and desperately tries not to let him go. Nannam’s tie is still on and Nanfah threads his hands through, gripping so that his brother can’t let him go, so he has to taste the alcohol on his tongue, the inside of his mouth.

Then Nannam kisses him back. He presses Nanfah backward, walking them into the couch, climbing over him and covering his body as he kisses back with the same passion, hot and wet inside. His hands go to Nanfah’s hair, tugging it. When Nanfah moans, his stomach turning in heat delightfully, Nannam slips his tongue inside, licking his teeth, the roof of his mouth.

It’s everything. It’s too much. “Fuck you,” Nanfah hisses between them. “Fuck you—fuck you for, for sleeping with girls before me.”

“Didn’t know you wanted this,” Nannam murmurs against his lips, getting Nanfah’s jeans down. He slides a hand into his boxers, warm around his cock, and Nanfah moans. “You always—you’re my little brother.”

Nanfah laughs breathily against him. “Not that little, huh?”

Nannam kisses him as he jerks him off, licks his fingers and slides them into Nanfah as Nanfah writhes on the couch. He watches, unblinking, as Nanfah thrusts back against him, trying to get Nannam’s long thick fingers as deep inside him as possible, and Nannam only has to stroke his cock once before Nanfah’s coming in ribbons across his shirt.

Then Nanfah gets up, pushes his brother down, drunk on the heat between their bodies, Nannam knowing him better than he knows himself. “I haven’t had sex before,” he admits. “Never kissed anyone, either.”

Nannam looks surprised, even as Nanfah slides his pants off. “Not even when you were at Rendezvous?” he asks.

Nanfah strips his brother’s boxers off too, eyes his cock. It’s probably the same size as his, but Nanfah goes cross eyed thinking about how it would feel inside of him, anyway. His brother’s cock is dark and hard and thick; saliva collects on Nanfah’s tongue.

“Wanted you first,” he says to Nannam, and then swallows his cock down. He doesn’t let go, even when Nannam’s hand goes to his hair, fucks his face, in so deep that tears spring to his eyes. He comes down Nanfah’s throat, a hot rush like a dream, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

*

They move out of their shitty little flat at the end of the month; Nannam’s found one in a better neighborhood, with a working AC unit and a refrigerator they don’t have to clean out every couple of days. They don’t have much between them, anyway, so it takes a day for them to move out, and then they have separate beds.

It only makes sense, as they’re brothers. They’re old enough that they can’t sleep in the same bed anymore. Yet on the first night, after hours of tossing and turning, Nanfah gives up and pads across the flat to his brother’s room, wandering in the dark until he finds the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t need to say anything to know that Nannam’s awake. “Couldn’t sleep either?” Nannam asks, turning to him.

Nanfah crawls under the covers with him silently, and Nannam’s arms wrap around him, holding him like he always does. Nanfah noses into his chest, his neck. Nannam, like always, laughs and says, “That tickles.”

Nanfah rubs his nose into Nannam’s cheek to make him laugh again.

Then he asks, quietly, “Do you ever miss Mom and Dad sometimes?”

Nannam’s silent for a moment. Nanfah can hear him breathe, feel his heartbeat against him, his pulse so close to Nanfah’s own. Nanfah matches his breathing on pace. He doesn’t need to see Nannam to know he’s staring in the dark, thinking. Nannam’s fingers draw circles on his back, and Nanfah presses closer into him.

Nannam says, “No,” and kisses Nanfah’s forehead. Nanfah drifts off to sleep.

*

After a few months, Nannam gets a car and teaches him how to drive. In return, Nanfah gets a gun—you can never be too safe, he tells Nannam, and Nannam confiscates it immediately into his car. They tell the other men of the Jungle who they are and why, and they take it relatively well; Hack says there are probably girls into threesomes like that, while everyone laughs and Nanfah thinks, no, I don’t want to share him with anyone.

But even so, with the two of them, they get their own nicknames: Viper and Tiger. Nannam looks so proud that Nanfah isn’t at home playing video games all day, especially when the other guys can look out for him while Nannam goes to work and meetings and functions. Nanfah likes playing games, whether it’s at home or cards or girls. A day of playing, though, is unmatched when Nannam gets home, when Nanfah can crawl into bed with him and curl up close like they always do, his breathing synchronized with his brother’s, heat around heat until they fall asleep.

They hadn’t talked about it, since the first time, when they were both drunk. Hadn’t done much, either, aside from lazy kisses at night, Nanfah seeking his brother’s mouth, Nannam never kissing first but always kissing back, like he feels guilty. Nanfah jerks off at night against his brother’s leg, sometimes, knowing that Nannam’s still awake, but can’t help himself; he thinks of all the things he wants to do to Nannam, wants Nannam to do to him. But his brother is so busy with work, and he never starts, and Nanfah wants his brother to want it, to do it again, to be his older brother and make the decision first, so he comes into his palm, hot, and curls into Nannam’s body and wonders if Nannam can smell his semen from here.

And then Nanfah comes home with a girl—he doesn’t know if they had an unspoken rule that they wouldn’t be hooking up in their flat, or maybe at all, but Nanfah’s getting bored and it’d been a good night and she was cute, flirting back with Nanfah, giving as much as he did, and Petai had a girl in the back room already. So he’d said that they could go back to his, and she’d said sure, and Nanfah came home to see his brother standing in the living room, his arms crossed and glaring at them.

The girl looks between them (Nanfah can’t remember her name.) “What’s going on?” she asks.

Nannam turns to her. His smile is not kind. “You should go home,” he says.

She starts to back away—but then Nanfah grabs onto her hand and says, “No, hold on.” Then to Nannam, “Why, dear brother? We’re just having some fun.”

Nannam ignores him, instead looking pointedly at the girl. She disentangles her hand from Nanfah’s and runs away.

Nanfah scoffs. “What’s your problem?” he asks Nannam. “Jealous you can’t have as much fun as me?”

“You’re my problem.” Nannam comes in close, but Nanfah doesn’t back away. Their faces are so close; Nannam’s eyes are bright, burning. “I’m the one going out and working all day. And you’re the one—”

“What?” Nanfah mocks. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“You don’t ask me for anything!” Nannam shoves him back. “I made you dinner. I bought your stupid video game. And you’re coming here with a girl—”

“Jealous?”

Nannam growls; and then he’s pressing Nanfah to the wall, kissing him. It’s an angry kiss, biting and too much teeth, but Nanfah bends immediately, bucking into him. Nannam’s hot when he’s angry, like he’s trying to teach Nanfah a lesson, and he grabs Nanfah by the hair and drags him away, into their unused bedroom—the room that’s supposed to be Nanfah’s. He throws Nanfah on the bed and says, “Strip.”

On his elbows, and with his burning scalp, Nanfah says, “Why don’t you do it for me?”

Nannam grits his teeth. Nanfah can see his jaw tensing. Then his brother says, “Fine,” and pushes Nanfah down on his back, shucking off his shirts and pants and boxers until Nanfah is naked, cock leaking on his stomach under him.

Nanfah grabs the lube from the unused nightstand before either can think any longer. He lathers his fingers and starts sliding them into himself, giving his brother a show. Nannam watches, like he’s unable to tear his gaze away as Nanfah smirks and working his fingers into his hole. Then Nannam slaps his hand away and says, “I’m gonna do it,” and slides two fingers in, with the lube Nannam had already used, and Nanfah moans and arches his back.

It doesn’t take long for Nannam strip his pants down and take the lube himself, slide along his cock. He’s breathing heavily; they both are. Nanfah’s so hard, wants to come, but not without his brother inside of him. He stares at Nannam’s huge, hard cock—and then Nannam’s gripping into it, sliding it into him.

The pain of the stretch is nothing compared to the bliss at being full with his brother’s hot cock. Nanfah moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head, practically feeling it in his ears. “Fuck, you’re a slut,” Nannam breathes, and the sharpness of his words makes Nanfah’s dick twitch. “Did you hook up with guys, too? At the club?”

“Did you?” Nanfah retorts, struggling to focus on anything other than Nannam’s cock inside of him.

Nannam doesn’t answer, instead bending down to kiss him as he fucks Nanfah. The slide is glorious, exquisite; Nanfah spreads his legs further, knees at Nannam’s sides so he can fuck him deeper. He clutches at his brother’s ass, then Nannam pulls away and drags his hands off him, pinning them above Nanfah’s head. “Only I can do the touching,” he says, voice raspy and deep.

Nanfah smiles at him, batting his eyelashes. “Yes, brother,” he says, and Nannam growls and holds his hands together, hips circling and smacking against Nanfah harder. He’s taking care of Nanfah so well, in control, the head of his cock gliding along Nanfah’s prostate, hard and heavy inside of him. Nanfah shivers with each thrust, rolls his hips to get more of his brother inside of him. “Slut,” Nannam breathes again.

He wraps a hand around Nanfah though, stroking him fast. Nannam’s still wearing all his clothes, his trousers and boxers just to his knees, a contrast to Nanfah naked and wanting on the bed. It doesn’t take long for Nanfah to come, drunk on the full heat inside of him, his twin brother using him, taking care of him. He comes on his naked chest, in ropes of white, gasping and twitching on the bed.

“Nan,” he says, but then Nannam is flipping him over without a word, gripping onto Nanfah’s hips, his ass, fucking him harder. He must like this, and Nanfah preens, arching his back so that his brother can enjoy the view. Nannam smacks his ass a few times and Nanfah says, “ah!” but it’s good so he says, “Harder,” and Nannam does it again and Nanfah says, “Harder.”

Nannam grabs him by the hair with one hand, spanks him with the other, and Nanfah is filled with an unmatched glee at how much Nannam likes this, how he probably never treated a girl in bed like this. He’s probably gentle and thoughtful, maybe a little bit rough but not this much, fucking Nanfah like he deserves it, not like he’s earned it. Nanfah loves it so much, the feeling of his brother’s unbridled want inside of him, so hard and punishing that nothing else even matters anymore. The sting of his ass against Nannam’s thighs smacking into his is euphoric, the tug of his hair against his scalp making tears spring to his eyes, and Nanfah doesn’t fight it at all the more violent Nannam’s movements get. He’s wet and raw and red inside, and when Nannam comes Nanfah does too, dry and untouched as he gets filled up with his brother’s semen, his love. Nanfah tightens his hole around Nannam’s cock, milking him, wanting it all, everything, as he pants between his elbows, all marked up inside. It’s better than anything he could ever fantasize, dream about, so full of his brother’s cock and sloppy wet cum that he could never go hungry, never has.

Nannam pulls out eventually. Nanfah aches at the loss, and whines. “Oh, you brat,” he says, spanking Nanfah again, and Nanfah wishes he’d called him a slut again too. “Shit.”

Nanfah turns to him. “Yeah?” he says.

Nannam props a pillow up, leans against the headboard. “It’s a good thing we don’t use this bed,” he says, and then sighs. “Fuck.”

Nanfah’s glowing inside—from how absolutely fucked out Nannam looks, from how fucked out he feels. “Surprised your little brother is so good at sex?” he says.

Nannam gives him a long look. Then he takes Nanfah’s hand, drags him over. Nanfah curls into his side, and Nannam strokes his hair, evening it out where he had pulled on it earlier.

“I usually have sex with a condom,” Nannam says.

Nanfah laughs at him. “Pussy.”

Nannam tugs on the small strand of hair he has between his finger tips. It makes Nanfah want to bow to him, listen to whatever his brother says. But, he already does that.

“You don’t?” Nannam asks.

Nanfah traces shapes on Nannam’s leg. “No, I do,” he admits. “It’s different, though, right? Between us.”

Nannam exhales a slow breath. Nanfah can hear his heartbeat—and maybe it’s a second or so off, but it doesn’t matter. As long as Nanfah has always known, it’s always been them. No matter what.

“Yeah,” says Nannam.

Nanfah takes Nannam’s other hand in his own, and brings it to his lips. “Love you,” he says, looking up at his brother.

Nannam looks down at him and smiles. “Love you too,” he says, but doesn’t kiss him back.