Knotted by Blood

Knotted by Blood

By: Zyran Blitz | knottedquill@gmail.com

Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction and intended for adult audiences only. It contains explicit homosexual material and themes of consensual incest, which may not be suitable for all readers. If you are offended by such content or if accessing explicit material is illegal in your region, please leave this page now.

All characters depicted are fictional, above the age of consent, and willing participants in the sexual activities described. This is a fantasy, not a representation of real-life events or behaviours.

To those staying: grab your favourite lube, get comfy, and enjoy pawing off to this story. If you enjoy it, I'd love to hear your feedback! Feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think. And don't forget to support the Nifty Archive by donating to help keep this platform alive for readers and writers alike.

Chapter 1: Twincest

The apartment was cramped and cluttered, the kind of place that wore its wear-and- tear like a badge of honour. The sagging couch practically begged for retirement, its middle dipping from years of rough use. The coffee table was scarred with ring stains, and the faint, ever-present scent of musk and cheap beer clung to the air like a second skin. Callum sprawled across the beaten cushions, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from his other hand. His grey tail flicked idly against the armrest, the fur catching the flickering light from the dim overhead bulb. He lazed with the relaxed confidence of a wolf in his den, his presence marking every corner of the room as his own territory.

Across the room, Rowan sat hunched at the small desk by the window, his pencil moving in frantic, jerking strokes across his sketchpad. The glow from his desk lamp cast silvery highlights over his fur, throwing sharp shadows across the tense set of his shoulders. He'd been working on the same portrait for hours, erasing and redrawing, trying to capture the sharp angles of a jawline and the intensity of a pair of eyes that had clearly left an impression on him., Callum's rugby teammate.

He pressed the pencil harder, the graphite biting into the paper. He wasn't drawing for art's sake--he was distracting himself. Anything to avoid the heat building in his chest, the restlessness clawing at the edge of his thoughts. Anything to avoid thinking about Callum.

From his spot on the couch, Callum tilted his head, catching Rowan in his peripheral vision. Something about his brother had been off lately. Quiet. Distant. It wasn't like Rowan to stay cooped up, especially not in his own head. Callum's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than he intended, his tail flicking once before he broke the silence.

"You've been stuck on that thing all night. What's the deal? Trying to submit it to another competition, maybe win Artist of the Year or something?"

Rowan didn't look up, his pencil freezing mid-stroke. "What's it to you?"

Callum's smirk deepened. He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a slow sip as his ears flicked in amusement. "Just making conversation, bro. You're wound up tighter than a knot in rut. Maybe you need to relax."

Rowan snorted softly, the sound meant to dismiss him, but Callum noticed the way his hand trembled around the pencil. Relaxing wasn't an option--not when Callum was here. Not when his brother lounged so effortlessly, every inch of him radiating dominance and unshakable confidence. Callum's scent--a sharp, musky mix of sweat and beer--dominated the space, worming its way under Rowan's skin. He couldn't ignore it, couldn't breathe without feeling it settle deep in his chest, a constant reminder of how different they were.

Stop thinking about it, Rowan scolded himself, his claws tightening against the pencil.You're disgusting. He's your brother. But then Callum shifted, his shirt riding up just enough to expose a sliver of toned, furred stomach. The sharp dip of muscle caught the light, and Rowan's heart stuttered. His pencil slipped from his hand, clinking against the desk. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to pick it up.

Callum's ears twitched, and he set his bottle down with deliberate ease. He rose to his feet, his movements slow, deliberate, and unapologetically confident as he crossed the room. Towering over Rowan, he leaned down just enough to peer at him, his grin sharp and wolfish. "What's got you so jumpy?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Rowan's fur prickled, his ears flattening as Callum loomed closer. His fingers fumbled to grip the pencil, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Callum's gaze. "Nothing," he muttered, his voice clipped.

"Nothing, huh?" Callum tilted his head, his grin never faltering as he leaned on the edge of the desk. The heat of his body, the overwhelming musk that rolled off him after a long day, filled Rowan's senses. He wanted to tell him to back off, to give him space, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he stared at the desk, claws digging into the wood like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

Callum's grin widened, catching the slight tremor in Rowan's hands. Something was definitely up. And Callum wasn't one to back off when he smelled blood in the water-- or, in this case, a secret.

Callum leaned closer, his breath warm as it brushed against Rowan's ear. The sharp musk of beer and sweat hit Rowan like a slap, and he froze as Callum peered over his shoulder. "Oh, let's see--who's this handsome bastard?" Callum teased, his voice low and edged with amusement. His golden eyes lingered on the sketchpad, the smirk

spreading across his muzzle as he tilted his head. "Looks familiar. One of my teammates, huh? You checking them out on the field or something?"

"Shut up." Rowan snapped the pad shut, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He spun his chair around to glare up at Callum, but his heart pounded in his chest, betraying him.

"Oh, come on, Row. I'm kidding." Callum's grin widened, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. He leaned against the desk, his tail flicking behind him with lazy confidence. "What are you so sensitive about?"

Rowan wrinkled his nose, feigning disgust as he leaned back in his chair. "Ugh, did run out of soap in the locker room, or are you just trying to mark your territory with that stink"

Callum blinked, then sniffed at himself, lifting one arm experimentally. His ears twitched, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks beneath his fur. "Shit," he muttered. "I was so wiped after practice, I didn't even think about it. Came home, grabbed a beer, and collapsed. Sorry if I'm stinking up the place. I didn't think it would be a big deal between brothers."

Rowan shrugged, hoping the motion looked casual and not like he was trying to keep his thighs pressed together to hide how his cock was already sliding free of his sheath. "Yeah, well, you smell pretty strong. Maybe fix that," he said, forcing a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

Callum huffed, giving Rowan a shove as he turned toward the bathroom. "Fine, I'll shower. Don't get your tail in a twist." His tail flicked as he walked away, the damp musk lingering in the air long after he disappeared into the bathroom.

The rush of hot water hit Callum's fur, flattening it against his skin as steam curled around him. He braced his hands against the cool tiles, his claws scraping lightly as he let out a low sigh. The heat worked its way into his muscles, unwinding the tension in his shoulders and thighs from hours of rugby practice. But it didn't touch the knot of unease sitting low in his gut.

Rowan's reaction stuck with him.

Callum inhaled sharply through his nose, only to grimace as the scent of himself lingered, damp and raw beneath the rising steam. His musk was sharp--earthy, primal, and undeniably his--and it clung stubbornly to his fur, even as the water sluiced over him. He reached for the shampoo, squirting a generous dollop into his palm before scrubbing it into the thick fur across his chest. The soapy scent quickly overwhelmed the musk, but it didn't erase the sting of Rowan's words.

"Do I really smell that bad?" he muttered, his ears flattening as he worked the lather into his abs and sides. His claws dug in harder than necessary, as though he could scrub the doubt away along with the sweat. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "It's not like I can help it."

It wasn't the first time he'd heard it. Old hookups--some casual, some more serious-- had dropped hints before. Sometimes subtle, sometimes not. A teasing remark about his `rugby funk.' A wrinkled nose when he leaned in too close after practice. Even Eddie, his Rottie friend and teammate, with whom Callum shared a friends-with-benefits arrangement, had made the occasional comment, though he always seemed enthusiastic when diving into Callum's pits as if he couldn't get enough. Maybe Eddie wasn't the best barometer, though; the guy was perpetually hard, likely to hump Callum's leg wven if he smelled like an unwashed sweaty jockstrap after an intense muddy match.

Callum didn't let it bother him--usually. He'd learned to laugh it off or deflect with a smirk, turning it into just another quirk of being a sweaty, overactive wolf. But hearing it from Rowan? That hit differently. That wasn't some hookup who could roll over and leave. That was his twin, his other half. The one person who wasn't supposed to care about shit like that.

Callum scrubbed harder, his claws catching in the fur on his arms as he worked up a lather. "Goddamn it," he muttered, shaking his head. "If even Rowan can't stand it..." He didn't finish the thought, but it hung heavy in the steam-filled air. If his twin thought he smelled like shit, who wouldn't?

His hands moved lower, raking the shampoo into the coarse fur of his sheath and thighs. His claws skimmed the thick fur at the base of his sack, and his nose twitched involuntarily as the familiar scent rose up again, stubbornly refusing to be overpowered by the soap. The musk was strongest there, and for a moment, Callum stilled, the faint heat of shame creeping under his fur.

Was it really that bad? He sniffed at his wrist again, catching the mix of soap and lingering musk, and his ears flicked back. It's not just sweat. It's me. It's what I am.

He let out a frustrated huff, shoving himself upright under the spray. Water cascaded down his chest and arms, washing the soap and grime away, but it didn't rinse out the gnawing doubt. "What the fuck's wrong with him, anyway?" Callum muttered, his voice low and rough. His claws scraped through his fur, raking over his ribs and sides. "He's been so goddamn weird lately, really since we moved in together at the start of term. Won't look at me. Gets all jumpy every time I'm close."

Callum turned, letting the water rinse away the suds. He watched them swirl down the drain, his brow furrowed as his mind worked over the details. "Did I do something?" he muttered, his voice softer now. His tail flicked behind him, restless. "Or is he just being a little shit?"

The water streamed down his back, tracing the curve of his spine as he leaned his forehead against the tile. He worked the shampoo into his tail, the thick fur soaking up the lather as he tugged it through the length. For a moment, he just stood there, letting the heat soak into his muscles. His ears twitched, the faint hiss of the water almost drowning out the doubts creeping into his mind.

"Whatever it is," Callum finally said, his voice low, "he needs to snap out of it. He's my twin. He can't keep shutting me out."

His claws scraped the tile lightly before he pushed himself upright, shutting off the water with a deliberate twist. He stood there for a moment, letting the last trickles of water drip down his fur. The air was heavy with steam and the faint traces of soap and shampoo, but underneath it all, he could still catch the edges of himself. The musk was fainter now, but it lingered, clinging to the dampness of his fur like a ghost of who he was. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it loosely around his waist, stepping out into the hallway with droplets still clinging to his chest.

As he stepped into the cooler air of the apartment, Callum's mind drifted back to Rowan, and his ears flicked in irritation. Whatever's going on with you, little brother, I'm gonna figure it out.

Meanwhile, Rowan sat frozen, the scent of Callum still clinging to the air like a brand. It wasn't just sweat--it was him. Raw, unfiltered, and utterly overwhelming. It wrapped around Rowan, sharp and animalistic, sinking deep into his lungs until it was all he could smell. His stomach churned, a twisting knot of shame and something darker, hotter. Beneath his jeans, his sheath was wet, the tip of his cock already sliding free, pressing insistently against the fabric.

"No," Rowan muttered under his breath, his claws digging into his thighs as if the pain could drown out the heat building inside him. "You're disgusting. He's your brother. Stop it."

But the scent lingered, burned into his nose and thoughts, impossible to ignore. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his claws scraping over the rough denim covering his thighs. Every breath made it worse, the musk seeping deeper, pooling low in his stomach and making his cock throb painfully.

How can he smell like that? Rowan thought, squeezing his eyes shut. How can he smell so... He stopped himself, his ears flattening. No. Don't go there.

But the image of Callum sprawled on the couch, shirt riding up, his toned stomach exposed--it was burned into Rowan's mind. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the desk, his claws scratching faint grooves into the wood. His eyes darted to Callum's door, barely ajar, and his stomach twisted with guilt.

"Don't," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rush of the shower down the hall. "Don't you fucking dare."

But his body moved anyway.

As his paw hesitated on the doorknob, his breath hitched, and his stomach churned with a familiar mix of dread and desire. How many times have you said this was the last time? he thought bitterly. How many times have you sworn you wouldn't do this again? His claws twitched against the wood, a small, trembling gesture of defiance against himself. And yet here you are. Again. Pathetic.

The door creaked softly as Rowan pushed it open, just wide enough to slip inside. The air hit him like a wall, thick and heavy with Callum's scent. It wrapped around him instantly, sinking into his fur, saturating his senses. His lungs filled on instinct, a deep, greedy inhale that made his head spin and his body shudder. The musky tang of sweat and earthiness was intoxicating--raw and overpowering. It wasn't just a smell; it was him, and Rowan felt it down to his core.

His cock twitched in his jeans, the sharp throb drawing a choked gasp from his throat. His pulse raced, heat rising to his face and spreading through his chest. Fuck, even his balls felt heavier, the tightness building low in his gut as his body betrayed him.

His eyes darted to the crumpled gym bag near the foot of the bed, the zipper barely holding back the concentrated stink of Callum's sweat and exertion. His knees wobbled as he stared, his claws flexing at his sides. He shouldn't be here. He knew he shouldn't. But the scent was everywhere--on the bed, in the clothes scattered across the floor, clinging to the very walls. It was too much, too good, and Rowan's resolve melted as another shudder wracked his body.

I really am disgusting, he thought again, his fists clenching at his sides. Why do I do this to myself?

But his body didn't care. It moved on instinct, driven by the same shameful craving that had led him here so many times before. He crouched low, his claws fumbling with the zipper of the bag. The scent grew stronger as it opened, hot and oppressive, curling in his lungs and drowning out every rational thought.

His paw dipped inside, closing around something damp and soft. He pulled out one of Callum's sweaty shirts, the fabric still faintly cool and slick with dried sweat. His claws trembled as he brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

The scent hit him like a punch, sharp and primal, wrapping around his senses until it was all he could think about. Rowan's eyes fluttered shut, his chest rising and falling with shallow, desperate breaths. His cock slid further from his sheath, thick and dripping, the damp patch on his jeans spreading as he pressed the shirt tighter against his face.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice cracking. His hips twitched involuntarily, grinding against nothing as the shame and arousal tangled together, inseparable. What's wrong with you? How many times can you do this before you admit you're sick?

But the shirt wasn't enough. It never was. His paw dipped back into the bag, pulling out one of Callum's socks. The scent was stronger here, concentrated, almost suffocating.

Rowan's breath hitched as he buried his snout in it, the salty tang of Callum's sweat filling his lungs. His cock throbbed painfully, pre dripping steadily as his jeans grew tighter.

He moaned softly, the sound muffled against the damp fabric of the sock. His free hand moved to his crotch, pressing down in a futile attempt to relieve the ache. It's too much, he thought, his claws curling into the sock. I can't... I can't stop.

His paw dug into the bag again, desperate now, and closed around something smaller, tighter. His breath hitched as he pulled it out--a jockstrap, the fabric stiff with dried sweat and musk. The scent radiating from it was dizzying, hitting him in waves that made his knees wobble. His paws trembled as he brought it closer, his cock twitching painfully in his sheath, the knot beginning to swell, still trapped and aching for release. Each deep inhale felt like a spark igniting under his skin, every fibre of his body responding to the raw, primal musk that filled his senses.

But just as the jockstrap brushed his nose, the sound of the shower shutting off echoed down the hall.

Rowan froze, panic surging through him like ice water. His ears perked, straining for the sound of Callum's footsteps. He shoved the jockstrap back into the bag with trembling claws, fumbling to zip it up. His breaths came fast and shallow as he darted out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him just as Callum stepped into the hallway.

The sight of his brother--dripping, his fur damp and clinging to his body, with only a towel slung low around his hips--stopped Rowan in his tracks. His heart pounded in his chest, his nose still full of Callum's scent, and his cock twitched painfully in his jeans.

"What were you doing in my room, bro?" Callum asked, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Rowan's mind raced, his stomach twisting with fear. "I... uh..." His eyes darted to the floor, his ears flattening as he scrambled for an excuse. "Your funk," he blurted out, wincing as the words left his mouth. "It was, uh... leaking into the rest of the apartment. I was just shutting the door to keep it from stinking up the place."

Callum blinked, his ears flicking back as his expression shifted. A faint blush crept under his fur, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry about that," he muttered, looking sheepish. "I'll... I'll get to the laundry eventually."

"Yeah, you better," Rowan mumbled, forcing a smirk as he backed toward his desk.

Callum nodded, retreating into his room with a faintly apologetic glance. The door clicked shut behind him, and Rowan collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his hands. The scent still clung to him, sharp and musky, sinking into his fur and his thoughts. His cock throbbed again, wetting the inside of his jeans, and a broken whisper escaped him.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice trembling. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

His claws dragged down his face as his heart slowed, but the guilt clawing at him only grew sharper. He hadn't just violated Callum's privacy--he'd played on his brother's deepest insecurity to cover his tracks. That wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Callum doesn't stink. The thought of him looking ashamed, apologising for something he had no reason to feel bad about, twisted Rowan's stomach. If anything, he smells amazing.

Rowan shifted in his chair, heat creeping up his neck as the thought grew more vivid, undeniable. Callum's musk wasn't something he found offensive. He craved it. He wanted it. If he were honest with himself, he'd bury his snout in Callum's pits after rugby practice in a heartbeat, savouring the sharp, raw scent of sweat and dominance. He'd nuzzle into the warm, damp fur, licking away the brine and--

"Stop," Rowan hissed, shaking his head as if he could physically dislodge the thoughts. His claws gripped the armrests of his chair, his breath coming fast and shallow again. What the fuck is wrong with you?

But the images didn't stop. The thought of being marked by Callum, of carrying his scent, sent a fresh jolt to Rowan's cock, his sheath damp with pre. He clenched his fists tighter, his claws biting into the fabric. Why are you so disgusting. He's your fucking brother you sick fuck.

His ears flattened as shame wrapped around him like a noose. He shouldn't have lied. He shouldn't have sneaked into Callum's room. But worst of all, he couldn't shake the hunger that had driven him there, the desperate, primal need that made him cross every line.

"I'm a fucking loser," Rowan hissed, slamming his head against the desk. "Pathetic. Disgusting." His claws scraped the wood as he clenched his fists, trying to push the shame down, but it only grew sharper, heavier. "What kind of freak does this? What kind of worthless piece of shit gets off perving on their own brother?"

The scent of Callum still clung to his fur, refusing to let him forget. His cock throbbed again, betraying him, and he let out a bitter, broken laugh. "You'll never stop, will you? You'll never be normal."

Rowan slumped in his chair, trying to steady his breathing as the scent still clinging to his fur mocked him. The sound of Callum's door opening snapped him out of his spiralling thoughts. His brother emerged, fully dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his damp fur still clinging to him in places. The towel he'd been wearing earlier hung over his shoulder, and the sharp tang of soap mixed faintly with the musk that still lingered in the apartment.

Rowan tensed as Callum stepped into the living room, his golden eyes locking onto him with an intensity that made his stomach churn. Stay calm. Just act normal, Rowan told himself, though the heat rising under his fur betrayed him.

Callum cocked his head, his ears flicking as he studied Rowan. "You okay?" he asked, his tone surprisingly neutral but edged with suspicion. "You're looking at me like I just walked in covered in blood."

Rowan's claws dug into the armrest. "I'm fine," he muttered, refusing to meet Callum's

"Sure doesn't seem like it." Callum tossed the towel onto the couch and crossed the room in a few easy strides, his damp tail swishing behind him. Rowan shrank back as Callum loomed closer, leaning one hand on the back of Rowan's chair. "You've been acting weird for months, Row. What's going on?"

The closeness made Rowan's head spin, his nose still betraying him with the lingering scent of Callum's musk, faintly masked by soap. His cock stirred against his will, and he cursed himself silently. "Nothing," he said, his voice tight, defensive. "Just drop it, okay?"

Callum's eyes narrowed, and he leaned in further, his presence almost suffocating."Nothing? You sure about that? Because you've been acting like I've got a target painted on my back every time I'm in the same room as you."

Rowan flinched at the accuracy of Callum's words. His heart pounded as he scrambled for an escape, but before he could respond, Callum grabbed the back of his chair and spun it, forcing Rowan to face him. The sharpness in his golden eyes sent a jolt through Rowan's chest.

"Talk to me," Callum said, his tone more forceful now. "You're not blowing me off again."

The sheer dominance in his brother's voice made Rowan freeze. His claws twitched at his sides, and he fought the urge to bolt. "Callum, just leave it alone," he said, his voice cracking under the weight of the moment.

Callum's ears flicked back, irritation flashing across his face. "You're no fun anymore," he said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt that didn't quite match the frustration in his eyes. He grabbed Rowan's arm, tugging him roughly to his feet. "What happened to the kid who used to wrestle me over the last slice of pizza? Where's that Rowan?"

The words struck a nerve, and Rowan's ears flattened against his head. He jerked his arm free, his tail swishing behind him in agitation. "I'm not that kid anymore," he snapped, his voice rising. "People grow up, Callum. Maybe you should try it sometime."

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, Callum's eyes narrowing as Rowan's breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. Callum's nose twitched, catching the sharp tang of nerves and something else--something he couldn't quite place. But before he could press further, Rowan shoved past him, his shoulder brushing Callum's chest as he bolted toward the hallway.

"Where the hell are you going?" Callum called after him, his voice laced with both irritation and confusion.

"To bed," Rowan threw over his shoulder, his tail flicking sharply behind him. "Just... leave me alone."

Callum stood there for a millisecond, his brow furrowing as he stared after Rowan's retreating form. Something about this wasn't adding up, and the unease prickling at the back of his mind only grew stronger. He frowned, standing frozen for a moment as the hallway light flickered faintly. The sharp, clipped tone of Rowan's voice, the stiffness in his movements--none of it made sense. What the hell's going on with him?

His tail flicked as he started after his twin, his instincts refusing to let the confrontation drop. "Oh no, you don't," he muttered under his breath. "You don't get to brush me off like that."

Rowan didn't make it far. Before he could slip into his room, Callum's hand shot out, grabbing his arm with a firm, unrelenting grip. He spun him around, his golden eyes sharp and unyielding. "You don't just walk off in the middle of a conversation," he said, his voice edged with frustration. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Callum, let go," Rowan muttered, his voice cracking under the pressure of his brother's stare. He tugged at his arm, but Callum held firm. His brother was always stronger, always faster, and the sheer size of him made Rowan feel cornered, helpless.

Callum tilted his head, his gaze narrowing as he leaned in slightly. His chest brushed Rowan's, and the weight of his presence made Rowan's stomach twist painfully. "No," Callum said, his voice low but forceful. "Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on. You've been weird for weeks. You flinch every time I'm near you. You can't even look me in the eye."

Rowan's jaw clenched, his tail flicking nervously behind him. His heart raced as the musk still clinging to his fur seemed to grow stronger, hotter in the confined space between them. His eyes darted down, tracing the line of Callum's jaw, the curve of his lips. Fuck. Stop. Stop looking at him like that.

"Callum, I--" Rowan started, his voice faltering as he tried to pull away again.

But Callum didn't let him. His grip shifted, his arm hooking around Rowan's waist as he pulled him forward. With one swift motion, he brought them both down to the carpet in a tangled heap, a mix of dominance and teasing etched into his movements. "Shut up and fight me," Callum said, grinning as he loomed over his smaller twin.

The world tilted as Rowan hit the floor, the air leaving his lungs in a startled gasp. Callum's weight pressed down on him, pinning him easily, their legs tangling together as Rowan struggled against the inevitable. His heart pounded against his ribs, his claws scraping uselessly against the carpet.

"Get off me!" Rowan growled, his voice sharp, but the tremor betrayed him.

"Not until you fight back," Callum shot back, his grin widening. The playful tone in his voice contrasted with the sheer dominance of his hold. "Come on, Row. Don't tell me you've gone soft."

The words stung. Rowan's breath hitched as Callum's grip shifted, his strong hands locking around his wrists and holding them firmly above his head. He was too close-- way too close. The heat of Callum's body pressed against his, the scent of his damp fur and lingering musk filling the air. Rowan turned his head sharply, his ears flat against his skull as he tried to escape the overwhelming sensations. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong. Why does it feel so good?

Callum's grin faded slightly, curiosity and confusion flickering across his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone dropping into something softer. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against Rowan's cheek. "You're not tapping out already, are you?"

"Just let me go," Rowan said, his voice barely a whisper. His body trembled beneath Callum, his nerves fraying with every second that passed. He clenched his fists, his claws twitching uselessly as his cock stirred against his will, hardening painfully against the fabric of his jeans.

And then Callum caught it--the scent. Sharp, musky, undeniable. His ears flicked back,his golden eyes narrowing. "Rowan..." he started, his voice quieter now, uncertain.

Then he felt it.

Hot. Stiff. Pressed against his thigh.

Callum froze, the teasing light in his eyes extinguished in an instant. His heart slammed against his ribs as the realisation struck him like a a bucket of ice water. No fucking way.

Rowan squirmed beneath him, his face burning under his fur. His legs shifted, trying to twist free, but Callum's weight held him firmly in place. "Callum, please--just let me go. I didn't mean to--"

"Didn't mean to what?" Callum cut in, his voice low, tinged with something sharp and unfamiliar. His grip on Rowan's wrists loosened slightly as he shifted his hips experimentally, testing the tension. Rowan gasped, the sound sharp and desperate, his entire body trembling under Callum's.

Callum's eyes widened, his breath hitching. He's hard. Fucking hell, he's actually hard for me.

The discovery left his mind reeling, a chaotic storm of thoughts clashing in his head. He should be disgusted. He should pull away, demand an explanation, anything to stop the sick heat rising in his chest. But instead, he stayed frozen, staring down at Rowan as his twin turned his head away, shame written across his face.

"Rowan..." Callum leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "What the fuck is going on?"

Rowan's breath hitched, his chest heaving as he fought back the tears threatening to spill. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I can't help it."

Callum's heart pounded harder, the roaring in his ears drowning out everything but the sight of Rowan beneath him--the way his hips twitched ever so slightly, seeking friction. His scent was sharp and intoxicating, driving away the edges of his logic and pulling something primal to the surface.

To his own shock, Callum didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against Rowan's cheek. "You're hard," he said bluntly, his voice dropping to a guttural growl. The words sent a jolt through Rowan, his claws curling uselessly against the carpet as his body betrayed him again.

Rowan whimpered, his hands clutching weakly at Callum's shoulders. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-- I don't--"

"Don't lie to me," Callum growled, his teeth grazing the soft fur of Rowan's neck. His mind churned with guilt, confusion, and something darker--something he couldn't ignore anymore. "You like this. You're turned on feeling me on top of you... Tell me to stop," he whispered, his lips brushing Rowan's ear. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

But Rowan didn't.

Callum didn't move, his chest pressed firmly against Rowan's, their breaths mingling in the charged air. The faint scent of beer on Callum's breath mixed with the raw musk that thickened the space between them. Rowan felt trapped--not just by his brother's weight but by the way Callum's golden eyes bored into his, sharp and unforgiving.

"I..." Rowan stammered, his voice cracking. His claws dug into Callum's shoulders, not to push him away, but to anchor himself. His entire body screamed at him to stop this before it got worse--before it became something he couldn't take back. But it's already too late, isn't it?

"You what?" Callum rumbled, his muzzle brushing Rowan's cheek, his lips grazing the edge of his ear. His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it--a curiosity that burned hot and unrelenting.

Rowan whimpered, his hips twitching as Callum shifted slightly, the weight of his brother's thigh pressing against the aching bulge in his jeans. The friction sent a jol through him, sharp and shameful, but he couldn't stop the needy moan that slipped past his lips.

Callum froze. The sound hit him like a slap, but not for the reasons it should have. It wasn't disgust tightening his chest--it was something raw and undeniable, a throbbing ache that shot straight to his cock, making it stir and press harder against the fabric of his sweatpants. His tail twitched, his breath quickening, and before he could stop himself, his nose pressed into the crook of Rowan's neck. The scent hit him like a drug-- musky, heady, and overwhelmingly Rowan. It sank into him, lighting up every nerve in his body and leaving him harder than he'd ever been.

"You've been hiding this from me," Callum said, his voice rough. It wasn't a question--it was an accusation.

Rowan squeezed his eyes shut, his ears flat against his head. "I didn't... I wasn't..." He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I'm sorry, okay? Just let me go."

Callum leaned back just enough to look at him, his golden eyes narrowing. "Sorry? For what? Getting rock hard under me? Fuck, Row, you're practically humping my leg."

Rowan's cheeks burned under his fur. "Shut it," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"Shut it?" Callum echoed, his grin returning, sharp and predatory. "You're not exactly in a position to tell me what to do, are you? All boned up for your twin brother"

Rowan's chest heaved, his body trembling beneath Callum's. He wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never come back up. But the weight of his brother's body, the heat radiating between them--it was too much. His shame warred with his need, and his need was winning.

Callum shifted again, rolling his hips deliberately, grinding his thigh against Rowan's erection. Rowan gasped, his back arching instinctively. "Callum, stop!" he pleaded, but his hands clutched tighter at his brother's shoulders, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

"Stop?" Callum growled, his lips curling into a smirk. "You don't want me to stop." He pressed down harder, grinding slow and deliberate, watching as Rowan's resolve crumbled with every shuddering breath.

Rowan's eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy with guilt and want. "It's wrong," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Callum's smirk faltered for just a moment, but he didn't move away. His grip on Rowan's wrists tightened, and his muzzle dipped lower, his breath hot against Rowan's throat. "Maybe it is," he admitted, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. "But you're not stopping me."

Rowan's stomach twisted at the truth of it. His body ached with the need to be touched, to feel more, and no one else had ever made him feel like this. No one else had ever been Callum.

"Why?" Rowan choked out, his voice cracking. "Why are you doing this?"

Callum paused, his golden eyes scanning Rowan's face like he was searching for an answer he didn't even know he needed. His grip loosened slightly, his body stiff with uncertainty. "Because you want it," he said finally, the words slow and disbelieving. His chest felt tight, his breathing uneven as he fought to make sense of the heat coursing through his veins, unbidden and unfamiliar.

The words sent a shiver through Rowan's body, his fur bristling with tension. His mind screamed at him to fight back, to shove Callum off and run before this spiraled into something they couldn't undo. But his body wouldn't listen. because he DID want it. His hips rolled upward,seeking the friction of Callum's thigh, and a low, broken moan escaped his lips, raw and needy.

Callum froze, his ears flicking back and his tail twitching behind him. The sound struck something deep and primal, but it confused him more than anything. His heart thudded heavily, and the scent of Rowan's arousal hung thick in the air, impossible to ignore.

Every instinct told him to pull away, to stop this before it went further. But the heat of Rowan's body beneath him, the way he moved so helplessly, kept him rooted in place.

Callum's breath hitched, his chest tightening as an unfamiliar heat pulsed through him. His grip faltered for just a second before his hands slid down to Rowan's hips, claws digging into the rough fabric of his jeans. He held his twin still, his body moving instinctively, grinding against Rowan in a rhythm that made his head spin. What the fuck am I doing?

Rowan trembled beneath him, his claws raking lightly through Callum's fur as if he couldn't decide whether to push him away or pull him closer. His voice came out cracked and needy, betraying every ounce of his control. "Callum..." he whimpered, his breath catching on the name, a plea hidden in the sound.

Callum's ears flicked back at the sound, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He didn't understand why his body moved on its own, why the scent of Rowan's arousal had his head swimming, but he couldn't stop now. His teeth grazed Rowan's neck, sharp against the soft fur there. "Say it," he growled, his voice rough and edged with something raw and untested. "Say you want it."

Rowan's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His claws twitched against Callum's shoulders as if he were trying to pull himself back from the edge. I can't say that. I can't let him know how fucked up I am. "I... I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking, filled with guilt and need.

"Yes, you can," Callum pressed, his tone firm but tinged with uncertainty. His muzzle brushed Rowan's cheek, his breath hot against his twin's fur. "Say it, Row. Say you want me."

Rowan's ears flattened, his body trembling under the weight of the moment. The shame coiled tight in his gut, but the hunger in Callum's voice--the demand--stripped him bare. He squeezed his eyes shut, the words clawing their way out before he could stop them. "I-- I want you," he whispered, barely audible, his voice shaking. "I've always wanted you."

Callum froze. The words hit him like a punch to the chest, sending his thoughts reeling. Always? What the hell is he saying? His claws tightened on Rowan's hips as a low growl escaped his throat, unbidden and raw. "Fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to Rowan. His lips twitched into something between a smirk and a grimace as he dipped his head lower. "You're a mess," he murmured, his voice thick, before his mouth claimed Rowan's.

The kiss was rough, unrelenting, filled with a need Callum didn't know he had. His teeth grazed Rowan's lip before his tongue pushed past, tasting him fully. The heat between them was unbearable, the sheer wrongness of it only adding fuel to the fire roaring in his chest. What am I doing? Why does this feel... good?

Rowan's mind blanked as Callum's lips moved against his. Every thought, every protest, every ounce of shame dissolved into the overwhelming sensation of his brother's body pressing him into the carpet. His claws clutched at Callum's sides, trembling as they tangled in the thick fur. This is wrong. This is so wrong. His mind screamed at him to fight back, to shove Callum away, but instead, his hands gripped tighter, pulling him closer. I can't stop. I don't want to stop.

Callum growled into the kiss, his hands tightening on Rowan's hips as he ground down harder, letting instinct take over. The sharp scent of Rowan's arousal filled his nose, intoxicating and impossible to ignore. Fuck, he's letting me. He's not stopping me. He wants this--he really fucking wants this.

Rowan whimpered into the kiss, his back arching as their bodies moved together, the friction enough to draw broken sounds from his throat. His chest heaved, his body trembling as every nerve lit up under Callum's touch. This is too much. And yet, this is everything I've ever wanted.

Callum pulled back suddenly, his golden eyes blazing as they locked onto Rowan's flushed, trembling face. His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath, and a thin strand of saliva still connected them, breaking as Callum swiped his tongue across his lips. "You taste..." he started, his voice rough and gravelly, trailing off as if he couldn't finish the thought. "Fuck, you taste better than I thought you would."

Rowan shuddered, his claws loosening their grip on Callum's sides as his hands slid lower, desperate for something to anchor him. "Callum, please..." he whispered, his voice breaking. He didn't know if he was begging for his brother to stop or keep going and that terrified him. Why is this happening? Why do I want it so badly?

Callum's ears flicked, catching the tremor in Rowan's voice. He tilted his head, his grin sharp and feral. "Please what, Row?" he teased, though his voice lacked the confidence it usually carried. He dipped his muzzle to nip at the soft fur of Rowan's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath. "Use your words, little brother. Tell me what you want."

Rowan choked back a moan, his claws digging into Callum's fur as he struggled to catch his breath. His entire body felt like it was burning, and Callum's teasing voice only fanned the flames. He couldn't say it--not again--but the way his body moved against his brother's told the truth he couldn't bring himself to voice. Rowan's cheeks burned at the words, shame twisting in his gut even as his cock throbbed painfully in his jeans. How can he be so fucking casual about this? How is he not losing his mind like I am?

"I..." Rowan stammered, his breath hitching as Callum's lips trailed lower, his tongue flicking out to taste him. The sensation sent a shiver racing up his spine, his entire body tensing under Callum's touch. "I don't know. I can't--"

"Bullshit," Callum interrupted, his voice sharper now, the teasing edge melting into something more accusatory. His claws scraped lightly against the fabric of Rowan's jeans, sending an involuntary jolt of pleasure through him. "You've been thinking about this for weeks, haven't you? Maybe longer."

Rowan whimpered, his ears flattening against his head as Callum's words struck deep. He twisted under his brother's weight, trying to pull free, but Callum held him firm, his golden eyes narrowing as his smirk faded into something darker. "Don't lie to me, Row. Not now."

"I'm not..." Rowan's voice cracked, his body trembling beneath the heavy weight of Callum's gaze. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Callum tilted his head, his eyes flicking down to where Rowan's bulge strained painfully against the denim of his jeans. His claws dipped lower, brushing against the waistband. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice low, dangerous. "That may be so, but it doesn't change the fact that you are so fucking hard for me."

The deliberate roll of Callum's thigh against Rowan's erection sent a wave of sharp, almost unbearable pleasure through him. Rowan cried out, his back arching off the floor as his hands shot up to clutch at Callum's fur. "Callum--fuck, stop!" he gasped, his voice breaking on the plea. But his grip tightened instead of pushing him away, his body betraying him yet again.

Callum froze, the words hitting him like a slap. He pulled back just enough to look down at Rowan, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Do you really want me to stop?" he asked, his voice rough but quiet, each word deliberate. "Because if you do, I will." He hesitated, his gaze flickering as uncertainty cracked through his confidence. "But I don't think you do."

Rowan's breaths came fast and shallow, his chest rising and falling as shame and want fought for dominance. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, guilt and desire warring within him. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned his face away, his claws still clinging to Callum's fur. "I just--"

"Yeah, you do," Callum cut in, his voice softening but still resolute. His smirk returned, sharper now, though his movements faltered slightly as if he wasn't sure what he was doing. "You've wanted this. You've wanted me. Haven't you?"

Rowan bit his lip hard, his teeth sinking into the flesh as his eyes squeezed shut. The words he'd buried for so long--words he'd sworn never to say--rose unbidden to the surface, tearing him apart with every syllable. "Yes," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've wanted it. I've wanted you."

Callum's smirk faltered for the briefest moment, something flickering in his gaze. Surprise? Guilt? He didn't know. But then his grip tightened on Rowan's hips, his body leaning in closer as he growled low in his throat. "That's what I thought," he muttered, though the words sounded more like reassurance for himself than anything else.

Rowan whimpered as Callum closed the distance again, his lips finding Rowan's in a kiss that was rougher, hungrier, and far more deliberate than the last. Callum's hands moved with newfound purpose, sliding down to the button of Rowan's jeans. His claws flicked it open with ease, the sound of the zipper lowering cutting through the thick silence that hung between them.

Rowan froze as the cool air hit his skin, his breath catching in his throat. His chest heaved, his body trembling under Callum's hands. "Callum--wait," he said, his voice shaky, thick with fear and desire.

Callum paused, his golden eyes locking onto Rowan's. His hands stilled on Rowan's jeans, though he didn't move away. "I will ask you one last time. Do you want me to stop?" he asked again, his voice quieter now, lacking its earlier confidence. There was something raw in his tone--an uncertainty that made Rowan's stomach twist.

Rowan's claws dug into the carpet as his body trembled beneath Callum's, every nerve alight with sensation. He didn't want to say yes--he couldn't--but the shame was suffocating, choking him with its weight. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong. But I can't stop. I don't want to stop.

"No," Rowan finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained locked on Callum's, even as shame burned in his cheeks. "Don't stop."

Callum growled low in his throat, his tail flicking aggressively as he pulled Rowan's jeans down, exposing the taut length straining against his underwear. "Good," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Because I didn't really want to."

As Callum yanked the jeans further down, they bunched around Rowan's thighs, the thick scent of arousal heavy in the air. Callum's nose twitched as the full musky aroma hit him, his golden eyes flashing with predatory intent as they fixed on the outline of Rowan's cock, visibly pulsing against the tight fabric of his briefs, a wet patch prominently marking his desperate arousal.

"Fuck, Row," Callum's voice came out low and rough, laden with unconcealed lust. "You're dripping for me already?"

Rowan's ears pinned back against his head, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Don't--don't say it like that," he stuttered, his paws rising instinctively to cover his face.

But Callum was relentless. He captured Rowan's wrists, pinning them back over his head with an authoritative snarl. "Nah, you don't get to hide from me," he growled, his voice sharp and commanding. "Not when you're this turned on."

Rowan whimpered, his body trembling under the intensity of Callum's gaze and touch as Callum's free hand slipped under the waistband of his briefs. With a firm yank, he pulled the fabric down, freeing Rowan completely. His cock sprang free, thick and glistening, the knot at its base beginning to swell with need. Callum let out a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and darker, more lascivious thoughts. "Damn, Row. Look at you."

Under the weight of Callum's gaze, Rowan squirmed, his tail curling defensively between his legs. "Stop staring," he muttered, his voice shaky.

"Why? You look fucking good," Callum responded bluntly, his hand encircling Rowan's shaft.

Rowan gasped, his back arching as Callum's grip tightened, his touch firm and unyielding. "Callum--fuck," he moaned, his claws scraping the carpet as a surge of pleasure coursed through him.

"That's it," Callum murmured, his strokes slow and deliberate, coaxing every shiver and moan from Rowan's lips. Don't hold back on me now. Let me hear you.

Rowan bit his lip, his hips bucking involuntarily into the firm grip of his brother's hand, despite the burning shame in his chest. This is wrong, so incredibly wrong. Yet the heat from Callum's hand, the way his claws tenderly scraped against his sensitive flesh--it was everything he'd ever wanted.

"You're so fucking hard for me," Callum muttered, his thumb swiping over the slick head of Rowan's cock. "Bet you've been dreaming about this, huh? Jerking off and thinking about me pinning you down just like this?"

Rowan whimpered, his entire body trembling as Callum's words sliced through his last defenses. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. I think about you... all the time.

Callum's smirk widened, his strokes quickening. "Fuck, Row. You're such a needy little bitch for me, aren't you? That's so hot"

A fresh wave of shame and arousal crashed over Rowan, rendering him speechless, his body responding with desperate, stuttering thrusts into Callum's hand.

Callum chuckled darkly, his eyes alight with hunger. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

He shifted lower, his free hand gripping Rowan's thigh, pushing it aside to expose him further. The sight of his brother laid out before him, cock throbbing and knot swollen, sent a surge of heat through Callum's veins. He licked his lips, anticipation curling within him as he lowered his head.

Rowan's eyes flew open as he felt the hot breath of his brother ghost over his cock. "What are you--"

"Shut up," Callum growled, his lips brushing the slick head of Rowan's cock. "You've wanted this, haven't you? Let me give it to you."

Before Rowan could gather his thoughts, Callum's tongue flicked out, tasting him. The sensation tore a raw moan from Rowan's throat, his hands shooting up to grip Callum's shoulders. "Fuck--Callum!"

Callum grinned around him, his tongue swirling over the sensitive flesh before enveloping him deeper. The primal taste of his twin, salty and intoxicating, sent an unexpected thrill coursing through him. He sucked with deliberate precision, his mouth hot and eager as he bobbed his head, his claws sinking into Rowan's hips to hold him in place.

Rowan's head crashed back against the carpet, his breaths short and desperate. His claws tangled in Callum's fur, clutching it tightly as overwhelming pleasure surged through him. "Callum--fuck, I can't--"

"You can," Callum insisted, his voice muffled as he briefly pulled back, replacing his mouth with his hand. He stroked Rowan's slick shaft with practiced ease. "You're going to come for me, Row. You're going to give it all to me."

Rowan's body tensed, his thighs trembling as Callum's commanding tone pushed him to the brink. "I'm--fuck, I'm gonna--"

"Do it," Callum commanded, his hand quickening. "Let me see you lose control. Cum for me, little brother."

The command shattered Rowan. His body arched violently off the floor, a strangled moan escaping as his cock pulsed with a particularly intense jet of cum. His entire body shook with the force of his release, leaving him breathless and spent. Callum sat back on his heels, his golden eyes fixed on Rowan with a mix of lust and triumph. As he observed the extra intensity of Rowan's release, a satisfied smirk played on his lips. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice a low, possessive rumble.

At the sound of Callum's praise, Rowan's cock gave another pulse, a fresh wave of cum spilling out. The visceral reaction to the words `good boy' was undeniable, and this physical response didn't go unnoticed by Callum, who filed away the potent effect his words had on Rowan.

A thrill ran through Rowan at the praise, momentarily drowning out the storm of his guilt. But as the immediate rush faded, confusion and shame rapidly filled the void. Rowan panted, struggling to regain his breath, his cheeks aflame with both shame and the residual heat of their encounter. "Callum... what the fuck just happened?"

Callum leaned close, his muzzle brushing against Rowan's ear. "Exactly what you've been dreaming about," he whispered, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction, making it clear he relished every moment of their forbidden intimacy. He leaned in further, his chest brushing against Rowan's heaving ribs, the weight of him pressing his twin deeper into the carpet. The scent of Rowan's release was thick in the air, musky and sharp, and Callum couldn't get enough of it. His tongue darted out, licking a stray line of cum from Rowan's chest, his golden eyes locked on his brother's face.

Rowan's ears twitched, his entire body trembling as Callum's rough tongue dragged over his fur. "What are you doing?" he whispered, his voice shaky but laced with something darker--something he couldn't hide anymore.

"What does it look like?" Callum muttered, smirking as he licked his lips. "You taste good, Row. Didn't know you'd be so sweet."

"Stop saying shit like that," Rowan groaned, his hands coming up to shove weakly at Callum's shoulders. His strength was gone, drained by the intensity of his orgasm, and Callum barely budged.

"Why? It's true," Callum said, his tone low and teasing. He leaned closer, his muzzle brushing Rowan's ear. "This is all so new, but it feels right, doesn't it?"

Rowan's stomach twisted at the words, his shame flaring hot and raw. "You can't just... say that," he whispered, his claws twitching against Callum's fur.

"Why not?" Callum replied, his voice calm but firm. "Didn't you want this? The way you're reacting tells me a lot. I mean, you did just jizz everywhere."

"I--" Rowan's words caught in his throat, his eyes darting away. He couldn't deny it, not now, not after everything.

"Exactly," Callum murmured, his lips curling into a satisfied grin. He shifted slightly, his weight pressing more firmly against Rowan, and Rowan froze as something hot and hard brushed against his thigh.

"Callum..." Rowan's voice trembled, his breath catching.

Callum chuckled, low and dangerous. "Yeah, you feel that?" he asked, his hips grinding slowly, deliberately, letting Rowan feel the full length of him through his sweatpants. "This is all new for me too, but damn if it isn't intense."

Rowan's eyes widened, his body tensing beneath his brother's. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "We can't. This is--"

"Wrong?" Callum interrupted, his golden eyes darkening. "Yeah, maybe it is. But does it feel wrong?"

Rowan's lips parted, but no words came. His body betrayed him again, his hips shifting instinctively, seeking more of the heat pressing against him. It's wrong. It's so fucking wrong. But why does it feel so... right? I've wanted to feel this for years and now ...

Callum growled softly, his teeth grazing the soft fur of Rowan's neck. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He sat up slightly, his hands sliding down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Rowan's breath hitched as Callum tugged them down just enough to free himself, his cock springing free from his boxers, thick and heavy, the knot already starting to swell. Rowan's eyes widened, his breath catching at the sight.

"Don't worry so much, bro. See, I've gotten hard too. It's only normal when having a bit of fun, right?" Callum said, his voice low and teasing. He reached down, wrapping a hand around himself and giving a slow stroke, his eyes never leaving Rowan's face. "This is all from you, Row. You did this to me."

Rowan's claws dug into the carpet, his entire body trembling as he watched Callum stroke himself, the sheer intimacy of it making his head spin. Callum leaned back down, his cock pressing against Rowan's stomach, hot and slick with pre.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his lips brushing against Rowan's. "I'm not gonna fuck you. Not yet."

Rowan blinked, his breath coming in short gasps. "Not yet?" he echoed, his voice barely

"Not tonight," Callum said, his grin widening. "But soon."

He rolled his hips slowly, grinding against Rowan, letting the friction build between them. Rowan's body reacted instinctively, his hips rising to meet Callum's movements, his mind screaming at him to stop even as his body begged for more. Callum's growl deepened, his rhythm quickening as he rutted against Rowan, the slick heat of his cock leaving streaks of pre across Rowan's fur. His breaths grew heavier, his movements more urgent, and Rowan could feel the tension building in him, raw and undeniable.

"Fuck, Row," Callum growled, his voice rough and breathless. "You're driving me crazy."

Rowan groaned beneath the solid weight of Callum, his hands clenching tight on Callum's fur-covered back as their bodies burned together, sweat mingling. The room seemed to pulse with the heat from their frantic, grinding hips. With a low, guttural roar, Callum's muscles tensed, and he unleashed a torrent of cum. His cock spasmed violently, shooting rope after thick rope of hot jizz across Rowan's stomach and chest. The first spurt was heavy, landing with a wet splash that streaked over the skin, followed by another and another, each as voluminous as the last. The sticky warmth spread rapidly, pooling in the dips of Rowan's body, drenching him in a sheer layer of glistening fluid that caught the light with every shallow breath he took. Cum dripped down the sides of Rowan's torso, collecting in his navel before spilling over, tracing the lines of his body as if mapping out territories conquered. Callum's breaths were ragged, his body hovering, locked in the final shudders of release as he witnessed the extent of his eruption--a visual testament to the raw intensity of his desire. For a moment, neither of them moved, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

The elder twin finally sat back, his golden eyes locking on Rowan's flushed, trembling form. "Damn, I haven't had a nut that good in ages," he said, his voice a mix of smugness and relief.

Under the weight of Callum's gaze, Rowan was fucking drenched, his brother's cum splattered hot and slick across his fur--a sticky testament to this unexpected evening. As the hot jizz began cooling against his fur, Rowan's body was caught in an electric thrill. Rowan's skin burned, recalling Callum's rough grinding. Fuck, he was humping me so hard... His breath hitched, arousal surging with each raw thrust. Every grind was fucking ...

The air was thick with the scent of cum, heavy and musky. It clung to Rowan, sinking into his fur, seeping into his very pores. It marked him, a raw, visceral claim that stripped him bare in a way nothing else ever had. Pleasure twisted deep in his gut, tangled with something darker, something he couldn't name but couldn't resist. Fuck, this is so messed up... but fuck me, I'm still so hard.

His mind raced, a maelstrom of panic and obscene delight. Holy shit, did I just... with him? My own fucking brother? The realization slammed into him with the force of their tangled bodies, sending a jolt that was both terrifying and wildly arousing.

Then, Callum's husky voice cut through the heavy silence, laced with a teasing edge but underpinned by a hunger that was unmistakable. "You know, you're kind of hot all covered in jizz," he murmured, his eyes dark and intense as they raked over Rowan's cum-streaked form.

Rowan's breaths were shallow, his mind reeling from the intoxicating, forbidden act they had just indulged in. The weight of their actions battled with the scorching heat that continued to pulse through him, leaving him raw and achingly confused. Rowan gasped, his voice breaking, "What the fuck did we just do?"