Title

Title: A Pink Present for Puppy
Authors: Denise Kendrick and RD Solange

Kane Litten pulled a t-shirt over his bare chest as he made his way down the stairs to the lower level of the house.

Being a stay at home artist had its perks. He could pretty much do his own thing, when and how he wanted. Hence his having taken an hour long nap in the middle of the day for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Kane strode into the airy kitchen, scratching at one broad shoulder as he took a peek outside the window. The expected snow storm hadn’t started yet, and with any luck it would miss them completely. Not that there was anything wrong with being snowed in, mind you. His lips curled in a secretive smile as he fetched a glass of water. Nothing wrong with that at all.

Though, knowing his lover, Tristan would probably walk to work if he couldn’t drive. Kane rolled his eyes. The gallery where he showed his work was a full half hour’s drive into town, but Tristan could get to work in a minute and a half. In fact, they rented the rambling converted farmhouse they lived in from Tristan’s employer and his wife, known affectionately between them as Professor and Mrs. Professor.

No, snow would probably not keep Tristan from leaving the house, but Kane would have a good time haunting him all the way to the lab.

Tristan had been working too much as it was and with Kane often going into the gallery in the evenings, their sex life had taken a hit. That was why this afternoon was so important. It would be Tristan’s first afternoon off in close to a month. A fact that Kane was going to take full advantage of.

Of course, Tristan wasn’t only his lover. He was also his partner, his dominant and most important, his brother.

Kane set the glass of water up to his lips, drinking deeply as he left the kitchen and wandered into the living room. Anticipation brewing inside him, he found himself too itchy to sit and read, so he turned the TV on, hoping to catch a bit of news. The VCR above the TV flashed the time and date and he frowned, tapping a restless finger against the rim of the glass. “Damn, the party.”

He’d totally forgotten about the invitation to attend a co-workers bachelor’s party. He mentally shrugged and put it out of his mind. There was no way he was going to trade out a quiet evening with Tristan for a gallery full of drunks and boxes of pizza. “Who has a bachelor party at an art gallery anyway?” he groused.

The back door slammed shut and Kane’s heart sped up, Tristan was home.

“Oh, puppy!” Tristan called from the kitchen, “You shouldn’t have!”

Kane frowned and switched the television off. He could hear Tristan tearing into something, but Kane hadn’t left him any presents that he knew of. Of course, with Tristan, anything was possible.

“I didn’t,” he muttered, “At least, I don’t think I did.” Brows knitting together under a mop of messy dark brown hair, Kane padded barefoot from the living room into the kitchen. There, on the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen, was the remains of a small brown box beside a stack of letters.

Tristan was preoccupied with digging through the layers of styrofoam popcorn until his hand found something solid. He pulled out the mass of rubber wrapped in plastic. “What is it?” He was dressed in his usual work attire. Khakis and a button down white shirt, tucked in at the waist. The look, while fairly bland when compared to Kane’s collection of vintage t-shirts, never failed to appear sexy as hell on Tristan’s slim frame.

Kane upturned the box and the packing list flew out in a flurry of white and green packing material. “Says here it’s a chair,” and strangely enough, it was addressed to them.

His heart skipped a beat when he read the mailing label more closely. To: Kane and Tristan Litten. He dismissed it as someone’s idea of a joke, since Tristan didn’t seem concerned. No one was supposed to know they were brothers.

They’d invented a last name for Kane when they moved down from Boston to protect their privacy. Osgood, Tristan had wanted. Kane wanted Assgood. They settled on Carousal, their mother’s mother’s maiden name.

They hadn’t always been lovers. Not as children. Not even as teens. But in college things had changed. Kane didn’t regret that first kiss, or anything that came after, not for one second. But Tristan had struggled with the need to keep the new sexual aspect of their relationship secret.

When Tristan got offered the job to work with a renegade professor in upstate New York, they gave up their life as brothers and decided to live only as lovers. Fortunately fraternal twins don’t necessarily look alike. In fact, Kane had heard stories of them even marrying accidentally. One of those ’separated at birth’ stories. He liked to think there were others out there like that. It gave credence to the idea that their love wasn’t wrong. It just was.

“Aw,” Tristan was teasing, “You got me a chair.” He frowned at the mass of salmon colored rubber in his hands. “What, I’m supposed to blow it up?”

Kane laughed and shrugged, shaking his head to indicate the packing list didn’t hold any more answers. “I guess so, but, Tris, I didn’t–.”

“Hush, puppy,” Tristan said, cutting him off, “Let me look at my present.”

Kane quieted automatically at the tone and the nickname. Puppy. It still made his stomach flop or his dick hard whenever Tristan used it, which, on some days could be a lot. Over the last few years, their relationship had progressed slowly from twins, to lovers, to dominant and submissive. Now Kane couldn’t imagine his life being any other way.

But as for this inflatable chair, if that’s really what it was, Kane certainly hadn’t ordered it. Which meant this was either another of Tristan’s games or some sort of freak accident. Given his brother’s methodical approach to just about everything, freak accident was hardly likely.

Tristan had already ripped off the plastic wrap and was unfolding the deflated mass, pawing over the surface looking for the air hole, when a thick pink rubber dick dropped out of the folds.

“Huh,” Tristan said. Kane’s eyes flicked from the dildo up to Tristan’s face. It was an understated word to use, but the reaction looked genuine. His brother’s scientific bent had him always treating new information as if it were just another piece of the puzzle. If it was himself, Kane was sure he’d have thought of something more appropriate to say than, ‘Huh.’

He was about to come up with a much more suitable exclamation when Tristan thrust the mass of the chair towards him. “Here,” he said. “Blow.”

Kane’s eyebrows shot up practically level with his hairline and he grinned, wrapping his fingers around Tristan’s wrist, “I love it when you talk dirty.” Tristan extricated his hand with a small smirk and looked on pointedly as Kane made a show of licking his lips and taking the small plastic nubbin of an air-hole into his mouth.

His teeth bit gently down, allowing him to blow into the plastic. He kept his eyes on Tristan’s as he manipulated the valve and started filling the strange pink mass with air. As the chair took shape in Kane’s hands, giving them both an idea of the size of the object in question, Kane could see the wheels start to turn in the back of his brother’s head.

Soon it was obvious that the chair was meant to be sat on. Or ridden. Kane was in favor of both activities.

Tristan had once joked that if he’d had his way, every chair Kane sat in would have a cock jutting out of it, filling him every time he sat down. Of course, Kane hadn’t taken him seriously. Well, he’d hoped, but he knew better than to expect every pervy idea generated in the heat of passion to be actualized in reality. He stopped to rest his lips, squeezing the rubber tight just below the hole to keep the air in. “Are you sure you didn’t order this yourself?”

Tristan looked at the chair, which had become lighter in color with each breath and was approaching more of a cotton candy coloring to match the dildo that lay flopped against what they guessed was the seat. “It’s pink, puppy,” he said with a scowl, as if that explained it all.

“But…” Kane waved the dildo back and forth with hopeful eyes.

Tristan just laughed, picked up the box again and studied the label. He glanced over at Kane’s inactivity and repeated his earlier command: “Blow.”

Kane’s tummy flipped and he grinned, putting the nub back in his mouth again. “Yes, Master,” he answered silently. One day he’d be brave enough to use the honorific to Tristan’s face. They’d spent the past year defining their dominant and submissive roles together, but Kane still hadn’t taken that final step of a formal address. Maybe someday, but not now. Not yet.

Inflating the last quarter was harder, mostly because Kane was running out of breath, but also because as the chair filled up, in all its Pepto-Bismol colored glory, the shaft in its center began to stand tall. And as the chair became more erect, so did Kane.

He studied the dildo as he blew. It was large, and thick, and had those realistic looking ridges decorating the sides. He could already imagine it slicked up and pushing into him. Filling him up with its unyielding length and girth. He could see it all: The squeak of the plastic as he rode up and down, back and forth, body slick and giving, and his brother’s eyes fastened on him, directing him to go faster or, god help him, slower. He groaned, closing his eyes to block the sight of the thing out.

At last, he couldn’t get any more air in and he plugged the air hole, thinking nervously that ‘plugged’ was such an excellent word. He set the chair down on the counter top and the two of them stared at it for several minutes. Kane’s body was starting to tremble with need as he imagined what might come next.

Tristan reached out and gave the dildo a poke, testing its resilience. When it bounced right back into place, he squeezed the base of the seat and tested the inflation. “What do you think we should do with it, puppy?”

“Do with it?” Kane was proud of himself that his voice didn’t squeak when he asked the question, and he wondered again if Tristan really hadn’t planned this all along.

He thought for a moment about what it’d be like to illustrate it. Or paint Tristan using it. Or paint something while sitting on it. “Uhh…um. Well, I…uh.” Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, unable to stop thinking of what it would feel like inside him. If he sat in the thing backward, his cock would rub against the slick pink wall of the chair’s back; the idea of the dual stimulation of being fucked by the pink dildo and the tip of his cock rubbing against the cool slide of the plastic was almost enough to make him cream his pants right there.

His hand felt for Tristan’s. “Did you want to, um, use it?”

“Use it, puppy?” Tristan cast a sideways glance at him and Kane swallowed. His brother liked to push. It hadn’t always been like this between them, and on many days it wasn’t. But, oh, when it was. In contrast to Tristan’s arched tone, Kane felt his hand squeezed in return. “However do you mean?”

Kane’s face burned hot in a blush. “I, um. I think I could sit on it. If you,” he ducked his head, his chin brushing against his shoulder as he glanced at Tristan then back over to the chair that seemed to be waiting just for him, “if you wanted.”

“If I wanted,” Tristan murmured thoughtfully, studying the chair on the counter for another long moment. “You know what I think, puppy?” he said finally. “I think it’s been a while since I helped you with your homework.”

Kane swallowed, hard, his fingers tightening around Tristan’s as he stared harder at the chair. Homework?

Homework plus the chair would equal…Kane held back a squeak. His cock jumped in his snug pants and he bit at his bottom lip. The hard curve of his erection bulging against the fly would be difficult to miss in his tight jeans. If Tristan hadn’t been so focused on him, Kane might have slipped down the zipper and persuaded his brother to come upstairs to the warm bed he’d just left for a little afternoon delight. But they’d already passed the point of Kane doing anything without Tristan’s say so.

During the last art class Kane took at a local college, his brother had raised the whole ‘helping him with his homework’ process to a new art form. That was months ago, and Kane hadn’t signed up for another since things at the gallery were becoming busy and mostly he just felt inclined to work on his own projects for a bit. Of course, Tristan would know all this, so the question was, what kind of homework was his brother referring to? Kane’s tummy twisted and he felt his body began to hum as he started to slowly slip into his submissive role.

“Um…” he started, wanting to fill the silence as his mind flailed about. “I might have three chapters to read,” he blurted out, anxious to come up with a reason for Tristan’s continued focus and attention. He could read anything, even one of Tristan’s boring science magazines, if it would keep this delicious feeling going.

Tristan smiled at him, and the love that poured out of his eyes warmed Kane all over. “That’s not the kind I meant, baby,” Tristan said. He tugged Kane’s hand, drawing him from the kitchen to the adjoining dining room, and more specifically to the head of the heavy oak dining table, Tristan’s favorite spot for ‘homework help.’

The farmhouse had come furnished with a lot of heavy antique style furniture. Some stuff, like the occasional decorative rooster, they just tolerated, but this table Tristan had taken almost an instant liking to. It was long enough for six to sit comfortably, with an optional leaf stuffed in a closet should they ever need to add more space. A rustic chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, it’s six iron faux candlesticks lighting up the bare surface, and four matching chairs circled the table. The final two chairs lined the side walls.

“We’re going to practice your drawing again, puppy,” Tristan winked, leaving Kane standing at the head of the table as he moved to the china cabinet to retrieve the supplies. “Hopefully this time it won’t take all night.”

Kane cleared his throat, “Oh, okay.” He was blushing again. Sometimes it was hard to think when Tristan handled him like this. Submission to him always felt like a warm, well worn glove that slowly slipped over and engulfed him. It made him relax and accept anything that Tristan said at face value. He didn’t have to think or reason, he just needed to listen and obey. That was all Tristan asked of him, and Kane was happy to give him that. And more. “I like drawing,” he whispered.

“I know, puppy, and you’re very good at it.” Tristan kissed him on the cheek and set out a crisp white tabloid sized sheet of paper before him. A box full of charcoal pieces followed, accompanied by a last few sheets of paper which Tristan set in the middle of the table for later.

Tristan took a step back and folded his arms over his chest as he surveyed the scene. Kane tried not to fidget. Tristan grinned at him, showing all his perfect white teeth. “Lose the shirt, baby.”

Kane complied immediately, crossing his hands at his waist to grasp the hem of his t-shirt and ripping it up, off his body. He looked over in question and, at a nod from Tristan, let it drop the ground.

“Good. Open your pants.”

A smile formed on Kane’s lips as he followed each command, his cock was aching to be set free from its denim prison and he actually sighed when he unzipped and spread open the sides. His dick sprung out and lifting as it hardened more. There were no undershorts. Tristan had long since banned those from Kane’s wardrobe. Just before pushing the jeans down, he looked to Tristan, eyebrow rising in question. “Off?”

Tristan smiled and shook his head in that way that told Kane he’d just avoided a major misstep, and Kane’s dick, as if it still needed another excuse, quivered in delight. “Leave them open,” Tristan said, “just so I can see.”

Kane’s belly fluttered. He liked to be on display for Tristan. Then his twin pointed to the chair behind Kane, ordered, “Sit”, and went back into the kitchen.

Kane sat and pulled the chair up to the table. The chairs at the ends of the table were different from the rest in that they had arms on each side, captain’s chairs he thought they were called. Tristan loved to sit Kane down in one, tie a leash to Kane’s cock and balls and watch him from the chair opposite as Kane completed whatever task his brother set forth for him. From time to time the leash would be tugged, “Just to be sure you’re paying attention,” and Kane would be expected to go right back to work. Afterwards he’d either suck Tristan off or get fucked right over all his hard work. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Tristan would lead him by the balls upstairs and they’d play for another few hours.

Mouth watering in anticipation, he rolled a bit of charcoal through his sweaty fingers and remembered the chair he’d just blown up in the kitchen. Already it seemed like a lifetime ago. Would Tristan want him to ride it as he sketched? Would that be the reward?

After a moment he heard the creaking of stairs that told him Tristan was retrieving things not readily available downstairs. Butterflies coasted around his stomach in great wide circles. Zoom, zoom, zoom zoom.

He didn’t have to wait long. A few moments later the pink inflated anomaly appeared before him in the center of the long table like found art. It fit just right under the chandelier, the multiple points of light casting diverse shadows across its surface. There was no sign of whatever else Tristan had retrieved, but Kane suspected the items were either in his brother’s pockets or hidden just behind the chair.

“Draw it for me, puppy,” Tristan said. Instead of taking his usual seat at the opposite end of the table, where his view would be impeded by the chair between them, he drew out another chair along the side of the table to Kane’s right, angled it towards Kane’s end of the table, and sat where he could supervise without disruption.

Kane bit at his lower lip. It was interesting having Tristan closer than usual. Just a few feet closer, and yet, making it so much harder to concentrate than usual. Obediently he focused and contemplated the lines of plastic and rubber before looking down at the paper and his already black stained fingers. He started to reproduce what he saw, transferring sweeping curves and inflated dimples from reality to paper. Upon closer inspection he realized the decorative indentations along the chair’s back were supposed to resemble fingers, leaving the dildo sprouting from its center as the thumb, he supposed. He looked over to where Tristan was watching him and wondered if he’d noticed it as well, then he shifted his ass in his seat, nervous, and went back to his task.

Darken that line. Deepen that curve. Shade in here, but not there. The dust rose up and tickled his nose as he worked, hyper aware of where Tristan was at all times, as if the right side of his body was weighted with more sensitivity than the left.

“Are your knees spread, puppy?”

Kane jumped slightly at the interruption. He blinked at Tristan, brow furrowed for an instant before his legs shot wide open. “Yes?”

Tristan only smiled at him and leaned back further in his seat, one hand resting on the table’s surface. “Spread them a little further for me then.”

Kane felt a hitch in his chest, Tristan’s smile warming him. “For you,” he breathed and followed instructions, scooting forward an inch and then pressing his legs open until the outsides of his thighs, just above his knees, pressed firmly against the armrests of the chair.

Relaxing, he found, brought his legs together, so he tucked his feet around the base of the chair legs and tightened his muscles, making sure his legs stayed open. His fingers twitched and he looked back down at the drawing. He was almost finished with the outline.

He got in a few more lines before Tristan interrupted him again, his voice steady, the words stroking against Kane like velvet, “Are you hard, puppy?”

Kane blinked up at him, unable to hide the longing clearly etched on his face, “Yes.” He was always hard for Tristan. Always.

“Good, puppy,” Tristan praised, voice purring with approval. He leaned forward and snagged Kane’s paper with his fingertip, tugging it towards himself. It took Kane a moment to make the connection and then belatedly lift his forearms up, letting his work be taken for inspection. This part always made him nervous. Tristan would be the first to admit he knew nothing about art; when it came to Kane’s work, he always made it clear that he was completely supportive and yet completely ignorant. But homework was another story and Kane swallowed back his eagerness for approval.

Tristan shook out the paper as he lifted it up, a smile flirting across his lips. “And who’s this sitting on it?” he asked. The dildo was still visible but Kane had begun sketching a body crouching over it. He hadn’t filled it in all the way.

“No one, yet.” He played with the charcoal nervously in his fingers. He looked from Tristan’s face to the paper, “I’ve sketched you so many times, I suppose it would have eventually turned into your features.”

Tristan’s eyes went wide with mock alarm. “Really, puppy, I should have you watch yourself in front of a mirror more often.”

Kane exhaled in a stuttered laugh. Or course, there was no way Tristan was going to sit on the chair. Tristan could bottom when he felt like it, but they each liked very different things; and if Tristan bottomed, it was always with a decidedly ‘in charge’ slant. That suited Kane just fine. It had taken them a long time to find this toppy version of his brother. He wasn’t in any rush to part with it.

“I would like that,” he said shyly, thinking about the mirror. Maybe he could install one in the playroom they’d built out back, in the tiny guest house that came with the farmhouse. He could line a whole wall. Making improvements to the playroom was Kane’s domain, though usually it involved painting a new mural every six months or so, filled with inspirational portraits. Currently, the walls were lined with men in various stages of bondage, the images based on pictures from a book he’d ordered off the internet. Kane found it extremely inspiring.

“I know you would.” Tristan set Kane’s drawing aside without further comment. He slid a new crisp white sheet out from beneath the pink chair and into place beneath Kane’s darkened fingers. Kane let his breath out slowly. Tristan’s homework almost always involved revised drafts. Sometimes if they’d both been waiting a long time then the sex just couldn’t wait, but usually Tristan had enough control for the both of them. In fact, Kane sometimes wondered if Tristan liked this part, toying with him, better than fucking him. A chill ran down his spine and he shivered just as Tristan leaned forward and ran his fingers along Kane’s right forearm, a flush of goosebumps following in its wake. He ached for Tristan, longed for his brother’s touch, his kiss. He almost lost himself in his longing for his brother when he sensed something change.

Kane turned with a start. He hadn’t felt Tristan stand up, but his twin was circling around behind him, and Kane felt Tristan’s touch, gentle now, the brother with only a hint of the scientist within him, playing over the bare skin of his neck and shoulders. Warm breath wafted over his ear. “Get up, baby, I want to make sure you’re properly inspired before you try again.”

Kane stood on command, unhooking his feet and pushing the chair back behind him to make space to stand. Tristan’s hands were still on him, urging him to bend forward at the hip. He placed his hands on the paper before him, obediently lowering himself down to his elbows before resisting Tristan’s handling. He looked over his shoulder, seeking out his brother’s eyes. “Can I kiss you first?”

A smile flickered across Tristan’s mouth, a real smile, not related to the game they were playing. “Of course, you can.” Tristan was hands off as Kane straightened back up and closed the gap between them. He hesitated for an instant, licking his lips, before pressing his mouth gently to Tristan’s.

Tristan yielded to him and Kane felt something familiar tug deep in his belly at being allowed in so easily. He pressed closer, gathering the taste and feel of Tristan’s kiss once more into his mouth.

He felt Tristan’s hands on him, caressing the bare skin of his sides when Kane got greedy with the kisses, but if anything Kane’s eagerness only amused his brother more. Tristan tended to kiss him sooner rather than later, just because he knew Kane would want it, but sometimes, if they were very distracted with what they were doing, he’d wait until Kane needed it, until he asked for it. Kisses were one thing Tristan never withheld.

“Better?” Tristan asked when their lips parted.

Kane opened his eyes. He felt dizzy and warm all over. “Yeah.”

Tristan just smiled and gave Kane’s hip a quick swat, getting right back to business. “Elbows on the table,” he ordered, and Kane did as he was told. His pants were promptly pushed free of his hips. Tristan would almost certainly leave him standing in them. He had once told Kane he found it more of a turn on than having Kane outright naked, and if Kane’s feet got caught in the pantlegs and couldn’t move freely, then so much the better. “Feel ok, puppy?”

Kane nodded, reminded of the first day Tristan had used that pet name for him, nearly a lifetime ago, in another world. It had been sweltering hot in their tiny apartment, and they’d either not had air conditioning or they’d thought they could go without. He’d found himself in much the same position he was in now, bare assed with pants around his knees and elbows on the table, his tongue darting down into a dish of melting sweetness in the summer heat as Tristan prowled around him, touching his hips, his thighs, between his legs. “Puppy,” Tristan had called him, watching him lick the ice cream from the bowl like a dog, and every nerve in Kane’s body had sparked.

It was a long road from that day to what they shared now, but Kane had loved every minute of it.

“Focus on the chair, puppy,” Tristan said to him now as two slick fingers slipped between the cleft of Kane’s ass and circled his hole. Tristan must have snatched a packet of lube when he’d gone upstairs. They both knew Kane didn’t need much prep work and the familiar stretch of one finger was followed pretty quickly by the cursory inclusion of a second. “I’m going to fill you up with something so you can draw it properly.”

Kane dutifully craned his neck up, sure that Tristan didn’t just mean the pink bubble of the seat in front of his face, but the the eight inch monster towering up from the center of it. His mouth watered and he had to swallow over the lump in his throat. The familiar submissive feeling was slowly pushing him deeper into himself with every thrust of Tristan’s fingers inside him. He was falling into that place where there was only Tristan and himself. The rest of the world melted away. Three fingers stretched him, the swiftness bringing him up onto his toes, in time for Tristan to press him back down with his free hand. “No, no, puppy. You take what I give you.” Kane’s cock strained forward and he let out a soft whimper at the rebuke, growing more excited the more hands-on Tristan got.

Tristan released him and moved away to pick something up from behind the pink chair. Kane wasn’t surprised to see the black plug come into view. It was one of Tristan’s favorites. He said he liked the way it fit ‘just right’.

Kane licked his lips, eager to feel the fullness inside him. Feel it for Tristan. He rocked forward, pushing his weight into his hands. Tristan must have caught the movement of his tongue because he stopped, bouncing the plug from hand to hand. “Are you hungry, puppy?”

Hungry? Kane shook his head.

“Maybe you’re just wanting to taste something then, is that it?”

Kane just stared at him, then his eyes fell to the plug. He wasn’t too excited to have that in his mouth. He’d much rather feel it filling his ass than his mouth. Tristan laughed and shook his head, “No, puppy.” He pointed to the cotton candy shaft instead and ran his finger up from the base to the tip. “Maybe you want to taste this?”

Oh. Kane licked his lips in spite of himself. Yeah.

As the pink monstrosity slid forward towards him, Kane pushed up from his elbows onto his hands. All the better to eat you with, he thought, positioning his mouth right over the cock Tristan slid into place. His tongue darted out and tasted the tip. The new plastic smell was strong up close. The taste wasn’t much better.

“Suck it for me, Kane.”

Kane’s dick throbbed at those words coming out of Tristan’s mouth. He wanted so much to break position, fall down on his knees and find Tristan’s passion under his well mannered clothing. Instead, he focused on the next best thing. Pulling a quick breath in through his nose, he carefully descended, taking the shaft as far as it would go in his mouth. His cheeks hollowed and he pulled up with a soft slurp, swallowed, and descended again. He was dying for Tristan to touch him like this, whisper approvals. Make it all right to be sucking a pink cock in the middle of the dining room and to be getting more turned on by the second.

Tristan didn’t disappoint him. “Such a good, puppy,” he cooed, taking liberties with Kane’s sensitive places, twisting a nipple here, grazing an earlobe there. A playful smack fell on Kane’s ass, sending a jolt of excitement straight through to his cock. “Feet apart, now,” Tristan ordered.

Tummy twisting in desire, Kane scrambled to widen his stance, at once remembering the pants still pooled at his ankles. His feet wouldn’t go much further, but he tried anyway, managing another inch or two between his ankles. Tristan stroked his flank in approval and Kane redoubled his efforts with the cock in his mouth, ankles pressing against the limits of the denim as he held his body still, wanting to be good, needing to be good for Tristan.

Tristan’s deft fingers spread Kane’s cheeks and the blunt head of the plug was pressed into place. Kane pushed back without needing to be told, eager to be filled if that was what Tristan wanted for him. Kane smiled inside, he’d stopped wondering why Tristan’s wishes made him feel so good. So fulfilled, empowered. And so incredibly turned on. The ends of his fingertips tingled as they pressed against the polished wood of the table, smooth beneath the light calluses on his fingertips.

Finished with his ass, Tristan’s fingers circled Kane’s cock. The familiar, calibrating grasp ignored the raging heat Kane was giving off and sought out details that only made sense in Tristan’s head. Tristan slid his thumb and forefinger from base to tip and back again, gauging the girth, before releasing it to weigh each of Kane’s balls in turn. His brother, forever the scientist.

Kane sucked and slurped, letting himself be inspected while he thought of all the things those hands might do to him later. After gauging the size and weight of the pent up arousal in Kane’s balls, Tristan spun the plug and gave the sac a little tug, causing Kane to lose his sucking rhythm and choke in surprise.

“Did I say you could stop?”

Kane shook his head, completely unsurprised at the question and yet unable to prevent the flash of guilt. “No, sir.”

Tristan spun the plug a bit more before giving Kane a swift smack on the ass. “Well, sit down then.”

The wooden seat of the captain’s chair hit the back Kane’s legs and he sat, allowing himself to be tucked in under the table. “Lift your feet, puppy,” Tristan said, pulling the tangle of jeans out of the way. Tristan was all efficiency, setting the pink chair with its now glistening cock back into the center of the table and pushing a piece of charcoal into Kane’s trembling hand. “Try again, baby.”

Kane’s cock throbbed between his legs. The plug felt foreign and hard inside him. It was difficult to get comfortable with it either pressing on his pleasure point if he tilted forward or just feeling uncomfortable if he sat down on it properly. He suddenly felt swamped with emotion and need. “Tristan.” He felt jittery and uncertain and altogether too turned on. “Please…”

“Please what, pup?”

Kane’s stomach plummeted to his toes, then shot back up to his throat. His heart fluttering with anticipation and arousal. He was driven to ask, it was a need in him he couldn’t turn off no matter how much he loved what was happening to him. He asked, knowing full well Tristan would turn that beautiful smile on him, the one that made him want to sink to his knees and suck his brother’s long cock into his mouth, and then Tristan would say no. “Would–would you just fuck me?”

Exactly as expected, Tristan’s lips pressed into a loving smile and he retook his seat at Kane’s right. Denying Kane was one of Tristan’s most favorite things. “Draw it. And then we’ll see.”

Reluctantly, Kane bent his head to the task, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he took in the blankness of the sheet before him. First the outline, then fill it in, oh, crap. No, that wasn’t right. The edge was a more rounded slope than a bend. Concentration shaken, he worried his bottom lip with his teeth and listened hard for Tristan’s low breathing, feeling for the cadence of it so he could match it to his own. Would his brother notice he’d made a mistake? A delicious shiver raced through him. Tristan noticed everything. He shifted the paper to the left and started again in a clean section, slower this time, careful.

He was lost in a sea of lines and contours, set to the background noise of blood pounding in his cock before he noticed the movement going on to his right.

At first he tried not to notice, wanting to finish. Tristan wouldn’t fuck him until it was finished. Kane knew that for absolute certain, unless his brother decided there were “special circumstances”, but Kane could hardly count on that.

The hint of movement gnawed at him, taunting him with its casualness. He knew without looking what Tristan was doing, even though most of the action was happening past where he could see, beyond the edge of the table. He put down the charcoal and turned to look. “Tris…” his voice felt ragged, rough as he dragged the words from deep within his chest. “Please. I want to see?”

Tristan looked absolutely comfortable, one knee folded up as he leaned back in the chair. His calm made Kane feel sweaty and unclothed, both of which he was. He watched the hint of motion in his brother’s arm, unable to see what was going on in Tristan’s lap. “Not yet, puppy. I’m waiting for you.”

Kane gulped down a swallow, the charcoal felt awkward in his fingers and he licked his lips as he glanced back over his work unable to hide the dismay he felt.

“Oh, puppy. What’s wrong?”

“I–I’m too distracted.”

Kane’s glance darted back to where could imagine, in intricate detail, Tristan fucking his own hand. He longed for it to be him giving his brother pleasure, imagined Tristan ordering him to get onto his knees and service him under the table; but instead, Tristan nudged his shoe against Kane’s bare thigh.

“Poor puppy. Maybe the reason you can’t seem to draw it right is because you haven’t had the full effect of the chair.” Tristan’s face and neck were starting to flush a pale pink as he spoke, “Maybe you need to get a little more intimate with it before you can truly understand.” Tristan leaned forward, lifting his hand away from his cock, fingers shiny with precome to Kane’s mouth. “Suck, puppy.”

Kane whimpered, drawing forgotten, as he leaned in and pulled his brother’s fingers into his mouth. He ground his ass down onto the plug, eyes closing as he drew the fingers deeper. It was only a few seconds and Tristan was pulling them out again, chair scraping loudly in the quiet of the room as he stood and walked around the table to stand beside Kane. “Look at me, puppy. Look what I have for you.”

Kane’s gaze fixated on Tristan’s cock and he suddenly found himself unable to look away, his longing to put the hot, swollen flesh in his mouth was overwhelming. He could already feel the size and taste of it at the back of his throat. Longing to feel it filling his mouth made him moan and lean forward.

“Open your mouth.” Tristan was lightly fingering the sensitive underside of his cock now, his voice husky with restrained lust.

Kane’s mouth opened, his tongue stretching out, showing his eagerness and need for Tristan’s cock. “Put your hands on yourself, puppy.”

A thankful, whimpering cry fell from Kane’s lips as he lapped up Tristan’s flavor, at the same time, his hands eagerly engulfed his own cock, rubbing and squeezing, lavishing himself in sensation.

He stroked himself and worked Tristan’s cock with his mouth and tongue, pausing to suck and tease the sensitive slit, tasting the salty sweet taste that was Tristan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pink dildo on the chair undulating back and forth, Tristan bracing himself with a hand on the table making it wave like a perverted flag, cheering him on.

“More,” Tristan growled, fingers tangling in Kane’s hair.

Obediently, Kane released his jaw open, relaxing himself with a single deep breath before sucking his lover’s erection deep into his mouth. Too deep at first, he had to fight off the impulse to gag, but then he surged forward again, swallowing around his brother’s length, slower this time, savoring.

“Ah!” Tristan gasped. “That’s it, puppy. Take all of it.”

The encouragement stoked the fire of his lust, and Kane worked feverishly, matching the bob of his head to the stroke of his own cock as he gave himself over to Tristan’s pleasure. His brother. His love. His true other half. Satisfaction ached like a hard stone in Kane’s chest, twisting with an almost overpowering passion. He was dizzy with it.

“Don’t…spill.”

It was the only warning Kane had before Tristan was shuddering, arching and crying out above him, one hand twisting into Kane’s shaggy hair while the other shook the table so hard, the pink cock quivering violently in celebration as come flooded Kane’s mouth and throat. Kane worked to swallow, knowing from hundreds of blowjobs before exactly how much Tristan liked what came next.

He held his brother’s long cock in his mouth, listened to the throaty moans of pleasure as he sucked and cleaned it as it softened, careful in his devotion to the task until satisfied. His hand slowed it’s movement along his own cock, but never stopping, not even when Tristan’s hand came to rest lovingly against his cheek.

Tristan withdrew himself, keeping close, knowing instinctively how vital his nearness was to Kane at that moment.

“Tris…” Kane whimpered and Tristan smiled.

“I know, puppy. I know. Come for me now.”

Kane’s heart tripped and he felt his belly tighten, his cock ached as he concentrated, feeling everything inside him tremble and break wide open. His come spilled over his hand and legs as he cried his brother’s name. He turned his face to press his lips against Tristan’s palm, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

Kane felt Tristan’s hand curl protectively around the back of his head, gently pulling him closer, letting him rest his head against Tristan’s strength. Kane sighed, listening for his brother’s heartbeat.

Tristan was speaking to him, but Kane couldn’t hear the words. He just wanted this for a while, the warmth and love keeping him still and contained in this moment. He wanted to spend the rest of day like this. He imagined finding any number of ways to please his brother for hours to come.

Tristan was just pulling away when the shrill ring of the phone interrupted them. It startled them both into stillness, waiting for the machine to pick up. They still had a voice recorder machine. Voicemail service had been available where they lived for months now, but Tristan preferred it this way, that way he could instruct Kane to not answer it, but still be able to leave him detailed messages knowing Kane would hear every word.

“Thanks for calling,” Tristan’s voice on the machine, “but we’re both out. When we come back we’ll return your call. Leave the basics and talk to you soon.”

“Kane, dude,” a voice huffed as soon as the tape clicked into record mode. Kane instantly recognized Barry from the Gallery who often spoke as if everything was either urgent or an emergency, “Shit. You’re not there. Listen, we kind of fucked up.”

“Not we, moron,” a female voice said in the background.

“Shut up, Lynne! Listen, you guys are going to be getting a package. Fuck, I hope you haven’t left yet. I need you to bring it to the party tonight.”

Tristan made a surprised face and Kane started to laugh, the abrupt change in tone had him feeling shaky on the inside.

Barry continued as if out of breath. “It’s a present for Ryan, I didn’t want it to come to us or he’d ask too many questions. So you need to bring it.”

Lynne took over the phone and her voice blared into the machine. “And don’t open it, perverts.”

The machine clicked off. Tristan looked at his watch and Kane bit nervously at his bottom lip and squinted, giving Tristan his best smile. “Did I forget to mention about that party?”

Tristan nodded, smiling gently. “Uh huh.”

Kane ducked his head. “Didn’t want to go,” he confessed. “Wanted to stay in, with you.”

“Well, that’s all right then.” Tristan zipped his pants back up and resettled himself against the edge of the table. “I know I’ve been really busy lately.”

Kane nodded in silent agreement, hoping Tristan understood just how much he needed him.

“Did she just call us perverts?” Tristan asked, taking up Kane’s paper and studying the unfinished drawing.

That shook a laugh loose from Kane’s chest and he let himself relax back into the chair, resting his body. “Yeah, that might be my fault. I might have mentioned your perverted streak.”

“Oh really.” Tossing the drawing aside with a grin, Tristan leaned close and tilted Kane’s face up for a long, sweet kiss. “I can’t imagine what you might mean.”

“Well,” Kane said, “you are fucking your brother.”

“Too right.” Tristan licked his lips. “Let’s go upstairs and do that some more.”

Kane laughed and let Tristan draw him up, flinching as he felt the plug shift inside him. He blinked over Tristan’s shoulder at the chair sitting innocently on the table. Post-orgasm, it didn’t look nearly as inspiring, but Kane knew that could change easily enough. “Should we keep the chair?”

Tristan frowned, giving it a look over his shoulder. “It’s just so pink. Really puppy, I have no idea what you see in that thing.”

Kane’s belly fluttered, instantly attuned to Tristan’s choice of words and tone. He smiled, ever hopeful. “I bet we could get one in black.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Tristan squeezed his hand, “absolutely.”