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Asher Pallister is nineteen and looks just like his older brother.
Half-brother.
Niall hates him.
"What should I - aah - call you?" Asher says, legs spread as wide as his jeans shoved down to his thighs allow, cock heavy and hard between them, giving Niall room to slip two spit-slicked fingers into the boy.
He's taller than Niall. Fairer than Ruben. His hair an ashy auburn that would only ever appear on the third week of the month when Ruben's roots would grow out.
Slighter where there should be muscle. Angular in place of Ruben's soft curves. Foggy blue eyes instead of striking rare clear days.
But he looks like him enough for Niall to ruin him.
"Bambi." Niall decides, pushing another finger into him, fucking him on his hand with more patience than he's ever given any of the men and boys that catch his eye and reach for him back.
Asher bites at his bottom lip the same way. Thin pretty pink lips going crooked, bottom one worried plush under his white teeth, canine poking out, ready to tear and shred. Hereditary. Inherited from their shared father. Boxing Niall out.
Except this boy is soft - soft hands, soft expression, looks at Niall with trusting stormy eyes glazed over with whatever drug's in his system, hole played with and loose before Niall even teased at his rim, taking up the role as the nice considerate older man looking for a fun boy to play with in a club full of fun boys.
It's forced happenstance that Niall found him here. A little club with good coke and a few backrooms for anyone boring enough to need them and music that drowns out the terrors the drugs can't seem to ever quiet completely.
"Bambi." Asher says and then says his name over and over. Bambi Bambi Bambi. Sings it. Moans it. Happy to say it. Years have gone by and no one has ever come as close to saying it the way that strangles Niall. Two large hands around his neck with each syllable. Sometimes a smile around it.
He grabs at Niall's shoulders. He tries to lean in and kiss him and Niall turns his cheek, tilts his head up, and shushes him in his ear. Kindly. He's being kind.
"None of that, gorgeous." Niall tells him.
"Sorry. Sorry."
Apologies coming out of a Pallister mouth.
Niall shoves his fingers into Asher harder, faster, spreads his fingers painfully wide and tries to match the flush on Asher's face to his brother's that's his brother. After a football match. A fight with a group of boys who didn't know they'd flashed red in front of a bull that never needed a reason. Wrestling Niall to the ground. On one of their beds. The crook of Ruben's elbow as familiar as Lori's roasted potatoes.
Asher has freckles where Ruben doesn't and Niall did.
"Bambi, fuck me, Bambi." Asher says. Pleading. Needling. Pathetic. A little boy who never had Ruben to straighten him out. Not like Niall.
He tugs at Niall's shirt, urging him to stop. To get his hand out of him and put his prick inside of him. Fuck him like a man.
His hands don't carry a smiling face on either of them.
"Bambi, please."
It's his accent.
Grew up streets away from where Niall's spent years of his life in the sunshine and Ruben's blood hadn't even known the sun, that it could rise and set and Niall had been the lucky tit to warm in it.
Niall pulls out his fingers out and turns the boy around by his hips, thumbs at his cheeks to spread them wide and look at the hard careful work he's put in through his coarse dark hair. The club's lighting running through a loop of flashing blues and purples and their small nook neither boring nor bright.
Niall pushes his thumb inside of Ruben's little half-brother he's never even met and pushes. The boy's rim stretches with little to-do, twitching eagerly and fucked-wet, ready to be used again, for Niall to push inside.
He arches. His arms folded over his head on the metallic wall, his reflection a blurry silhouette. Slim and flexible, shoving his ass in Niall's face, ready ready ready. His back broad at his shoulders and flexing tense then relaxing with every panting breath that shudders out of him.
"Bambi." He says, voice reedy. Almost like Ruben's high on hash. Late in the night when they should both be asleep. Maura and Lori just a thin wall away.
Ruben telling him to be quiet.
Stop messing, Niall. Don't want to hear them bitching in the morning.
Grin catching the streetlamp outside the garden filtering hazy through the window. Bright even in the dark.
Niall undoes his belt, gets his pants open and shucked down under his balls and holds himself steady. Pushes his thumb to the joint inside the boy Ruben only ever mentioned once to him to feel his heat, how he clenches around him trying to pull the rest of Niall inside, the part of Niall he really wants, the part Ruben couldn't, and jerks himself off slow staring at the back of his head.
His ears stick out like Ruben's. He has more earrings. The back of his neck gets blotchy the same way. The sides of his head aren't buzzed short. There's enough there for Niall to fist and tug if he wanted. Keep the boy bowed and drawn on his cock.
He takes him by his too narrow hips and pushes in and says, Steady. Steady. Steady.
To him. To himself. From the Ruben who said, It's not a race. It's a trot.
"Bambi." He breathes it out. Sounds happy and relieved and pleased and Niall's stomach roils unpleasant, a building bubbling sick that catches in his throat and makes his dick throb.
Ruben wouldn't sound like that. He'd be angry. He'd kick Niall off. Kill him after. Get his boots shined and make Niall ugly.
Ignore him for two years.
He pulls back slow and spits on where the boy clings tight around his prick and pushes back in to the hilt, his balls tapping at the boy's ass. And he does it again, harder.
Ruben's brother that's only his brother by name - his tight black shirt rides up and Niall winds his arm around him, puts his other hand on his flat stomach, plucks at the ridges of his ribs and misses with a violent tremor through his strung-taut body the softness Ruben carried over the force of nature just underneath.
He rolls his hips and buries his face in the back of this boy he'd found on Mona's Facebook and tracked. With the same name and face as Ruben and he fucks him. Pistons his hips in and out, chasing after the heat that's as close as Niall can allow himself to be.
His hands slip up and under Ruben's father's son's shirt and touch at his thin chest, crossing the expanse to slip under his arms and feel at the thick hair, to journey under his collar and wrap around Ruben's real brother's neck.
"Bambi. Bambi." He sighs and Niall can feel the words in his chest. In his cock. Can feel Ruben's nose pressed to his cheek telling him to find the rhythm. Niall's hips stutter.
He closes his eyes, feeling his name in his palm, seeing clear blue skies looking back at him across the small step between their beds.
Niall huffs. Is choking on Bambi. It's wriggling in his ear. Stroking his cock. He presses in as deep as he can, head rocking between pointed bony shoulders and shuddering from his toes to the pounding in his temples as he comes, biting out, "Ruben."
Under him, Ruben's brother, Ruben's half-brother, Ruben's where Niall can't be, goes stiff.