Title: Balance
Author: Rysler
Date: 08/29/05
Fandom: Justice League Unlimited
Characters: Hawk/Dove
Warnings: Mature/Incest
Notes: For [info]were_all_mad's JLU Hawk/Dove Challenge.

* * *

"I can't believe you actually turned the other cheek," Hank said, adjusting the tape bandage on Don's cheek. "I mean, what did you think he would do?" He and his brother were in the Titan Tower locker room. Don was sitting on a bench, a towel over his waist, the rest of him naked and freshly showered, while Hank stood in front of him, threatening him with gauze.

Don grinned. "I just wanted matching slashes." He turned his head from side to side, showing Hank the bruises on each cheek. "Unbalance is a source of entropy in the universe."

"Whatever. Stop quoting dad. You can't just..." Hank slid his fingers along Don's jaw, lifting it gently to examine the first aid job, and then drawing Don's face toward his. "You have to defend yourself. You have to kick ass, or you're going to get your ass kicked. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I defend myself just fine." Don twitched, and then he was gone, re-appearing behind Hank and slapping his rear end. Hank was dressed in jeans, but barefoot and bare-chested. He'd been impatient to make sure his brother was all right, not that Don seemed to appreciate it.

"It's your ass you have to worry about. You look so hard in one direction, you're missing the others," Don said.

"Blah, blah, blah." Hank sighed, still looking forward, pointedly. "Is it so wrong to want to protect my brother?"

Don slid his arms around Hank's waist. "Just...unnecessary. As far as I'm concerned, only one good thing comes out of your attitude..."

"What's that?"

Don's hands slid up to Hank's chest. "All that boxing means you're damn-well built."

Hank threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, well, better than your skinny little runner's butt."

"I'd take issue, but I don't want to fight." Don continued stroking Hank's chest.

"You never do."

"Why bother? You beat me to all the bad guys."

Hank laughed again. "And they say you're faster."

Don grinned, pushing his face against the back of Hank's neck. "They also say I'm smarter."

"They'd be wrong," Hank said, but there wasn't a lot of fight in his voice.

Don rested his cheek on Hawk's shoulder, and pushed against his ass with his hips. "My face has stopped hurting."

Hank cleared his throat. "That's good to know."

Don slid his hands down Hank's front, across his abdomen, to his thighs. "Funny that in that little tussle down in Central City, you didn't get a swing in. Didn't even bruise your knuckles. What does that say about balance?"

"My hands are just harder. Hey, I wasn't going to sit down and talk with the guy."

"He was just a purse-snatcher."

Hank covered Don's hands on his legs. "He'll never snatch a purse again."

"Actually, he's probably gone and grabbed one already."

"Then what was the point of that excursion?"

"Oh, I just wanted to get your blood pumping," Don said, biting into Hank's neck. "Big brother."

"Contrary to what you might think, I don't need to kick someone's ass just for that."

"Oh, a lesson learned?"

"By me, maybe." Hank twisted in Don's arms, and pushed him against the lockers. "I think you need a little more work."

Don swallowed, looking from side to side nervously. "I don't know if the work I need is really..."

"All tease and no bite? No one's going to come in, little brother. Not with the weather in Blüdhaven."

Don rolled his head back against the locker. "It is raining..."

Hank kissed Don's chin, and then his throat. "Pouring."

"The old man is snoring." Don sighed as Hank knelt in front of him. His towel had fallen off when he'd stood, and now the terrycloth provided a cushion for Hank's knees as Hank examined his rapidly-rising erection.

"Snoring? Hardly."

"Do you have to put things so bluntly?" Don dropped his hand onto Hank's shoulder.

"I'm not the only one who's blunt."

"Geez, just... " Don cupped the back of Hank's neck, urging him forward. "Before someone comes."

"I want someone to come," Hank said, but he took pity on Don, wrapping one hand around Don's cock and drawing it between his lips.

"You'll get your wish," Don said, gasping. His fingers tightened in Hank's hair. As violent as Hank could be, especially with his mouth, he was always delicate when it came to Don. Too delicate, Don thought, as he pulled at Hank's head, wanting more heat, more suction, than the dance Hank was doing with his tongue along his penis.

Hank squeezed his lips around the head of Don's cock, swiping his tongue along the tip to savor the fluids. Don was hard in his fist, and Hank slowly stroked him, taking his time, negotiating the curves of skin to draw him deeper into his mouth. Don moaned, and Hank cupped his asscheeks with both hands, holding Don against him while gently sucking. The role-reversal suited them both.

Don grasped at his hair and thrust his hips forward. Hank held him back and he had to struggle for more stimulation. Hank gave in, taking his cock deep into his mouth, and Don felt the relief run through his body, concentrate in his balls, and begin the build-up. "Hank," he said, breathlessly, as his hand loosened in Hank's hair. "You're the best."

Hank continued jerking Don in his fist, but drew his lips away to nuzzle at his balls. Don reached down, covering Hank's hand with his, and groaned, guiding Hank's fingers around himself to a climax. His orgasm coated Hank's face, and Hank arched his neck back, capturing the last, weak spurt on his lips. He turned his head from side to side, showing Don his cheeks. "I guess there's something to be said for this."

Don sagged against the lockers and smiled. "I knew you'd see it my way."

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