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Gavin gave in, because he does love his brother very much... and he's sure he'll find some way for Kyle to make it worth his while.\n\nWords from me:\nI had a blast writing this. Just sat one day and ran my fingers over the keyboard until it was done, and I feel it came out pretty well. I could've posted this earlier. I actually finished it two days ago, in roughly two hours, adding up to about 2,500 words. It took me a little while to get around to reading over and editing it, and also getting someone else to do the art for me because drawing was just not working for me at that time! Hope you enjoy!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "The follow-up to my past story, Sleeping In (so if you like this one, make sure to go read that too!), so more fun lewd times with the jackal brothers, Gavin and Kyle.

Summary:
Gavin doesn't care much for cold weather, but his little brother practically begged him to take him up camping while school was out for winter break. Gavin gave in, because he does love his brother very much... and he's sure he'll find some way for Kyle to make it worth his while.

Words from me:
I had a blast writing this. Just sat one day and ran my fingers over the keyboard until it was done, and I feel it came out pretty well. I could've posted this earlier. I actually finished it two days ago, in roughly two hours, adding up to about 2,500 words. It took me a little while to get around to reading over and editing it, and also getting someone else to do the art for me because drawing was just not working for me at that time! Hope you enjoy!", "writing": "Crack!\n\nThe wood splits in two, falling to either side of my axe with a satisfying thunk. I stand back up straight, letting my axe rest on the cutting block and wiping my forehead with my freehand. When I think about it, it’s actually kind of surprising to find sweat on my forehead, when not a moment later a sub-freezing breeze chills me to the bone. And it’s not even like I’m not properly clothed for this kind of weather. Boots, mittens, some ten odd layers of clothes—I’m as prepared as they get. It’s just [i]that[/i] cold out here. And I don’t like the cold. Well, I guess that’s not completely true. Cold weather can be nice, when you’re in good company.\n\nI gather as much wood as I can carry and walk back to our cabin. Thick, fresh snow crunches underneath my boots. The sky above is a light grey, and all around me tower skeletal trees dressed in clumps of white, but it’s not snowing anymore. The sun’s actually quite bright out, right now. Several spots of snow flash blindingly white, and other spots sparkle like diamonds in the sun’s radiance. I can definitely appreciate the beauty of this place in its winter isolation, even if I wouldn’t go through the trouble of coming out here alone. \n\nEventually I reach our cabin. I climb up the steps of the porch, wooden, and colored a dark grayish brown. The porch is mostly clear of snow except for what the wind carried in, and the steps leading up to it, where the extension of the roof does not quite reach. With a little trick of dexterity and flicking of my tail to preserve balance, I manage the door, kicking it open.\n\nInside my little brother is curled up on the couch playing on his handheld—and I’m doubting he’s even noticed me at first—and he’s dressed conservatively compared to myself; after all, he didn’t have to spend hours outside in the cold gathering firewood among other things. The pile of wood in my arms really limits my options, so I navigate my foot around to the back of the door and shut it, then walk over and set the wood beside the fireplace before anything else. It’s at that moment he notices me.\n\n“Oh hey, Gavin,” he says without so much of a glance my way. Hmph. Really appreciative of him. I walk over to behind the couch, removing my gloves as I do, and still his eyes remain glued to the screen of his handheld.\n\n“Now, is that anyway to thank your big bro for taking you all the way up here?” I say, leaning over with my muzzle a few inches away from his ear. Then I reach over the back of the couch, and with a swift, stealthy motion hike my hands up his jacket and shirt, cupping his side. He jumps, the fur on the back of his neck standing on end. His eyes dart over toward me, briefly, and the corners of his lips turn down.\n\n“Gaviiin, your hands are cold,” he whines, shuffling a little in his seat as he continues to play his game.\n\n“I know. They’re [i]really[/i] cold. Spending hours outside in the snow does that. So surely my little bro can help me out with that, right? Help me warm my hands up after all his big brother did for him?”\n\nHe pauses his game now as it becomes clear to him there’ll be no relenting on my part anytime soon. “Can’t you just start the fire and warm them up that way?” he says, his head slightly turned back, just far enough for his eyes to reach me.\n\n“It’ll be hard starting the fire with cold, numb fingers. You’ll have to warm them up first,” I say.\n\n“And how am I supposed to—EEP!” Kyle squeaks, his body rigidly straightening up again as I shove my hands down into his warm little nest. His ears stand tall, eyes squeeze tight shut, mouth open at the corners, lifting his cheeks and showing his teeth, and blush invades the space beneath his eyes. After the initial shock, he whimpers almost immediately. “Gaviiiiiiiin!” he cries as my frigid hands cozy up between his thighs, one paw on other side of those squishy little bits.\n\n“Yeah, lil bro?” I answer nonchalantly, nuzzling up against the back of his ears as I rub my paws up and down in the oven between his legs.\n\nHe opens an eye and looks up at me with a clear pout on his face and rosy cheeks. His lips part to say something, but before anything comes through, I take his flaccid peen between my thumb and forefinger and give it a squeeze, and his eyes immediately go wide, and he lowers his jaw as he squeaks and gasps at the same time. Man, he really does make the girliest of noises. And he knows it too, at least a little bit. In the amount of time I imagine it takes for him to examine the noise he made, he blushed even harder and starts wriggling in his seat, whining and whimpering. Or maybe he’s doing that because I’m rolling the little tube in his lab between my two digits, squeezing occasionally, feeling the pulse of hot blood as it starts to saturate and grow taller, stiffer. \n\nHands not [i]quite[/i] yet warm enough, I go back to cupping his bits and his thighs, eliciting more gasps and whimpers from him. I palm his round little sack, and I imagine the small, silken pouch might be even smaller from my cold touch. And then there’s no stopping my imagination, my periodic curiosity burning for satisfaction. I remove my hands, hook my thumbs into the waistbands of his sweatpants and briefs, and jerk them down, just far enough to uncover the parcel inside. He squeaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush radiating onto my own face, and his hands shoot down to cover up, and I wonder if maybe I should do this even [i]more[/i] often, just to get him less embarrassed about the whole ordeal. I retract my hands, and begin to circle around to the front of the couch. His knees are pinched tightly together, arms tense as his hands cup over his crotch, and muzzle lowered with his eyes on the floor as blush pervades his face.\n\n“My hands are all warm now. Thanks Kyle~” I say as I start to kneel down in front of his knees, “but I bet your little [i]cock[/i] is pretty cold now as a result. Want me to warm it back up?”\n\nHe stares at me now, his whole body tense, knees pinched unrelenting, and pink stamped permanently on his cheeks. There’s a few moments of silence before he responds. “O-only if you cover your eyes...”\n\n“What?” I ask, a little surprised, almost chuckling a bit. “Why’s that?”\n\nHis muzzle jerks to one side, and with a pout that shapes the very sound of his voice, he mutters, “I’m still not big—there—yet...”\n\nThis time I really chuckle, a kind of giggle that voices the amusement I get from my brother being his shy, cute self. “I think I could tell that much just by touch, hun.”\n\nHe whines and kicks his feet toward the floor, brushing up against me a little roughly but not really hurting none. I like teasing him, but this time, I try to be a bit more comforting. “You’ll get there eventually, Kyle. You’ll have one just as big as your big bro, one day; I’m sure of it. Even if it is small right now, it fits just right on you, don’t you think?”\n\nHis eyes drift back toward me as I smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he whimpers under his breath.\n\n“I mean a cute little brother should have a cute little cock and a cute little pouch~”\n\nHis ears twitch at my words, then he’s whining and wriggling for a moment before he’s worked the nerves out of him. Now I’ve got my hands on his knees, waiting for them to spread. “Now come on, Kyle. Enough of that silly, embarrassed stuff, now? As cute as it is, I think I’d rather see it [i]while[/i] I’m doing stuff to you, not before I even get started, huh?”\n\n“Mmnnnnh...” he whines, his knees starting to let up and hands hesitantly sliding backward, “Fine. Just no more teasing, now?”\n\n“Oh, Kyle,” I say with a sort of mock pity in my voice and a deviant look in my eyes, as I spread his legs apart and descend down upon him, “You should know that’s something I [i]can’t[/i] promise.” Before he can take it back, I clamp my warm, wet muzzle down over his little prick, which, half-hard at that moment, quickly swells up into something much stiffer, although not much thicker. My nose presses down into the pillowy softness of his crotch, with its fresh scent and downy, short-furred covering, and my ears stand up at his immediate, quite vocal reaction. He whines out his cute little moan as I suck at the length of his penis, all of it, all at once. He really is still quite small down there, probably the size of and a very similar shape to one of my fingers. \n\nI hold his peen in my mouth and open my eyes to look back up to his face. It holds an expression twisted in overwhelming pleasure, some embarrassment and a bit of the bundle of nerves he struggles to contain inside of himself. His arms hold rigid as his hands grip tightly at the material of the couch, and his tail, which curled around from behind him out to his side, thumps against the seat of the couch rather impatiently, but his legs lie rather limply to either side of my head. Then thinking back to where my head is—that is, between his legs, muzzle pressing down into his crotch, sucking at his prick and nudging against the purse underneath—it sends a rush of thrills through my head, and I feel my pants grow almost uncomfortably tight, my tail wagging uncontrollably. I start bobbing my head up and down along his meager length to try and burn some of my urge off, and he squirms underneath me as a result, his hips wiggling left and right as if they’d dig a hole through the bottom of the couch to escape me. It gives me some temporary satisfaction, hearing those squeaks and moans, feeling the wriggles and occasional unconscious thrusts, tasting the rare droplets of pre I milk out of him. But even still I want so hard to bury my cock deep inside him, and make him cum just from that. To bite down on his ear and press him into my lap as my massive length strains against his tight entrance, and I pump him full of my seed.\n\n“Ahhhh!” Kyle cries out. Suddenly the little stiffy in my mouth is pulsating, throbbing hotly as something even hotter strikes the roof of my mouth like a dart. Two, three thin, stringy shots, more viscous than water—but hardly as thick as my own seed—fill my mouth, and I clamp down even tighter on his cock, my tongue pressing his length up into the roof of my mouth. With my tongue pressed up against the underside of his cock, I feel his cum surge upward within, feel his length pulsate and quiver, and I swallow around it, letting the sweet, slightly salty liquid trickle down my throat as I milk him of more. I start to rise back up, but I’m stopped by two little paws and a buck of his hips. \n\nNow when did those get there? His hands are cupped around my ears. Lost in my fantasy from prior, I hadn’t even noticed his hands take hold of my head as I sucked his peen. I try again, and this time, he relents, and I’m able to see him lie there, half curled up into the couch, his chest rising and falling somewhat raggedly with his shaky breaths, breaths which occasionally turn into moans, and I watch his stiff little pole quiver and tremble as the last of his cum forms a bead up at the top. I poke at the underside of his head with my fingertip, pushing it back half an inch as I lick my lips and look up into his eyes.\n\n“Look at that, little bro. Your cum,” I say, pointing out the little liquid pearl sitting atop his tip. His mouth lies open, ears still flat as he gradually recovers. “I swallowed most of it, of course. And remember when you couldn’t even cum, and were so worried about that? I told you you’re growing up. So don’t worry about it being small for now.” I reach up and ruffle his head fur. He ducks his head slightly in response, his ears lowering even further and eyes briefly squeezing shut. “And like I said. It’s cute like this~” He whimpers in protest. Then I slide my finger tip up, over his peehole, scooping up that little bead of cum, and touch it to the tip of my tongue as he watches.\n\nHe whines even louder, “D-don’t make it gay!” but his blush is even brighter. He shuffles his feet and turns his muzzle to the side. Then he huffs, “You’re such a fag, big brother.”\n\n“So? You look like an even bigger one when you’re lying on your back, covering your mouth with both paws as I drive in and out of your cute little butt~”\n\nHe whines loudly, wriggling again. We sit in silence for a few moments, long enough for me to watch his peen shrink back down, pulse by pulse, into its flaccid, squishy former self. He shuffles around and pulls his pants back up, as I rise back up and sit beside him.\n\n“Love you, bro,” I say, his muzzle turned away from me still.\n\nHe turns his head back toward me, but only a little bit, just far enough to look me in the eye from the corner of his own. Then his head ducks down into his shoulders, muzzle lowering a tad, and he says in his tiny voice, “Love you, too.”\n\nI smile wide, kiss him on the cheek, then wrap my arms around him and pull him in close.\n\n“Grrr,” he growls quietly at the kiss, but then the slight tension in his body melts away, he picks his legs up off the floor and onto the couch, and he curls up into my body, and wraps his arms around one of my own. His head sits on my chest, and I watch as post-climax drowse overwhelms his tiny body, and his eyelids start to drift shut. And I watch as a little smile sprouts on his face, as he nuzzles into my chest, warm and content. \n\nI’m not a huge fan of either camping or cold weather. I’d normally rather stay at home, in the comfort of central heating, with all my friends a text or a phone call away. But it can be nice sometimes. With the cold outside, snow fluttering and wind howling, and the isolation a teeny cabin in the woods brings—the love and comfort of someone close, feels all the warmer.\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Crack!

The wood splits in two, falling to either side of my axe with a satisfying thunk. I stand back up straight, letting my axe rest on the cutting block and wiping my forehead with my freehand. When I think about it, it’s actually kind of surprising to find sweat on my forehead, when not a moment later a sub-freezing breeze chills me to the bone. And it’s not even like I’m not properly clothed for this kind of weather. Boots, mittens, some ten odd layers of clothes—I’m as prepared as they get. It’s just that cold out here. And I don’t like the cold. Well, I guess that’s not completely true. Cold weather can be nice, when you’re in good company.

I gather as much wood as I can carry and walk back to our cabin. Thick, fresh snow crunches underneath my boots. The sky above is a light grey, and all around me tower skeletal trees dressed in clumps of white, but it’s not snowing anymore. The sun’s actually quite bright out, right now. Several spots of snow flash blindingly white, and other spots sparkle like diamonds in the sun’s radiance. I can definitely appreciate the beauty of this place in its winter isolation, even if I wouldn’t go through the trouble of coming out here alone.

Eventually I reach our cabin. I climb up the steps of the porch, wooden, and colored a dark grayish brown. The porch is mostly clear of snow except for what the wind carried in, and the steps leading up to it, where the extension of the roof does not quite reach. With a little trick of dexterity and flicking of my tail to preserve balance, I manage the door, kicking it open.

Inside my little brother is curled up on the couch playing on his handheld—and I’m doubting he’s even noticed me at first—and he’s dressed conservatively compared to myself; after all, he didn’t have to spend hours outside in the cold gathering firewood among other things. The pile of wood in my arms really limits my options, so I navigate my foot around to the back of the door and shut it, then walk over and set the wood beside the fireplace before anything else. It’s at that moment he notices me.

“Oh hey, Gavin,” he says without so much of a glance my way. Hmph. Really appreciative of him. I walk over to behind the couch, removing my gloves as I do, and still his eyes remain glued to the screen of his handheld.

“Now, is that anyway to thank your big bro for taking you all the way up here?” I say, leaning over with my muzzle a few inches away from his ear. Then I reach over the back of the couch, and with a swift, stealthy motion hike my hands up his jacket and shirt, cupping his side. He jumps, the fur on the back of his neck standing on end. His eyes dart over toward me, briefly, and the corners of his lips turn down.

“Gaviiin, your hands are cold,” he whines, shuffling a little in his seat as he continues to play his game.

“I know. They’re really cold. Spending hours outside in the snow does that. So surely my little bro can help me out with that, right? Help me warm my hands up after all his big brother did for him?”

He pauses his game now as it becomes clear to him there’ll be no relenting on my part anytime soon. “Can’t you just start the fire and warm them up that way?” he says, his head slightly turned back, just far enough for his eyes to reach me.

“It’ll be hard starting the fire with cold, numb fingers. You’ll have to warm them up first,” I say.

“And how am I supposed to—EEP!” Kyle squeaks, his body rigidly straightening up again as I shove my hands down into his warm little nest. His ears stand tall, eyes squeeze tight shut, mouth open at the corners, lifting his cheeks and showing his teeth, and blush invades the space beneath his eyes. After the initial shock, he whimpers almost immediately. “Gaviiiiiiiin!” he cries as my frigid hands cozy up between his thighs, one paw on other side of those squishy little bits.

“Yeah, lil bro?” I answer nonchalantly, nuzzling up against the back of his ears as I rub my paws up and down in the oven between his legs.

He opens an eye and looks up at me with a clear pout on his face and rosy cheeks. His lips part to say something, but before anything comes through, I take his flaccid peen between my thumb and forefinger and give it a squeeze, and his eyes immediately go wide, and he lowers his jaw as he squeaks and gasps at the same time. Man, he really does make the girliest of noises. And he knows it too, at least a little bit. In the amount of time I imagine it takes for him to examine the noise he made, he blushed even harder and starts wriggling in his seat, whining and whimpering. Or maybe he’s doing that because I’m rolling the little tube in his lab between my two digits, squeezing occasionally, feeling the pulse of hot blood as it starts to saturate and grow taller, stiffer.

Hands not quite yet warm enough, I go back to cupping his bits and his thighs, eliciting more gasps and whimpers from him. I palm his round little sack, and I imagine the small, silken pouch might be even smaller from my cold touch. And then there’s no stopping my imagination, my periodic curiosity burning for satisfaction. I remove my hands, hook my thumbs into the waistbands of his sweatpants and briefs, and jerk them down, just far enough to uncover the parcel inside. He squeaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush radiating onto my own face, and his hands shoot down to cover up, and I wonder if maybe I should do this even more often, just to get him less embarrassed about the whole ordeal. I retract my hands, and begin to circle around to the front of the couch. His knees are pinched tightly together, arms tense as his hands cup over his crotch, and muzzle lowered with his eyes on the floor as blush pervades his face.

“My hands are all warm now. Thanks Kyle~” I say as I start to kneel down in front of his knees, “but I bet your little cock is pretty cold now as a result. Want me to warm it back up?”

He stares at me now, his whole body tense, knees pinched unrelenting, and pink stamped permanently on his cheeks. There’s a few moments of silence before he responds. “O-only if you cover your eyes...”

“What?” I ask, a little surprised, almost chuckling a bit. “Why’s that?”

His muzzle jerks to one side, and with a pout that shapes the very sound of his voice, he mutters, “I’m still not big—there—yet...”

This time I really chuckle, a kind of giggle that voices the amusement I get from my brother being his shy, cute self. “I think I could tell that much just by touch, hun.”

He whines and kicks his feet toward the floor, brushing up against me a little roughly but not really hurting none. I like teasing him, but this time, I try to be a bit more comforting. “You’ll get there eventually, Kyle. You’ll have one just as big as your big bro, one day; I’m sure of it. Even if it is small right now, it fits just right on you, don’t you think?”

His eyes drift back toward me as I smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he whimpers under his breath.

“I mean a cute little brother should have a cute little cock and a cute little pouch~”

His ears twitch at my words, then he’s whining and wriggling for a moment before he’s worked the nerves out of him. Now I’ve got my hands on his knees, waiting for them to spread. “Now come on, Kyle. Enough of that silly, embarrassed stuff, now? As cute as it is, I think I’d rather see it while I’m doing stuff to you, not before I even get started, huh?”

“Mmnnnnh...” he whines, his knees starting to let up and hands hesitantly sliding backward, “Fine. Just no more teasing, now?”

“Oh, Kyle,” I say with a sort of mock pity in my voice and a deviant look in my eyes, as I spread his legs apart and descend down upon him, “You should know that’s something I can’t promise.” Before he can take it back, I clamp my warm, wet muzzle down over his little prick, which, half-hard at that moment, quickly swells up into something much stiffer, although not much thicker. My nose presses down into the pillowy softness of his crotch, with its fresh scent and downy, short-furred covering, and my ears stand up at his immediate, quite vocal reaction. He whines out his cute little moan as I suck at the length of his penis, all of it, all at once. He really is still quite small down there, probably the size of and a very similar shape to one of my fingers.

I hold his peen in my mouth and open my eyes to look back up to his face. It holds an expression twisted in overwhelming pleasure, some embarrassment and a bit of the bundle of nerves he struggles to contain inside of himself. His arms hold rigid as his hands grip tightly at the material of the couch, and his tail, which curled around from behind him out to his side, thumps against the seat of the couch rather impatiently, but his legs lie rather limply to either side of my head. Then thinking back to where my head is—that is, between his legs, muzzle pressing down into his crotch, sucking at his prick and nudging against the purse underneath—it sends a rush of thrills through my head, and I feel my pants grow almost uncomfortably tight, my tail wagging uncontrollably. I start bobbing my head up and down along his meager length to try and burn some of my urge off, and he squirms underneath me as a result, his hips wiggling left and right as if they’d dig a hole through the bottom of the couch to escape me. It gives me some temporary satisfaction, hearing those squeaks and moans, feeling the wriggles and occasional unconscious thrusts, tasting the rare droplets of pre I milk out of him. But even still I want so hard to bury my cock deep inside him, and make him cum just from that. To bite down on his ear and press him into my lap as my massive length strains against his tight entrance, and I pump him full of my seed.

“Ahhhh!” Kyle cries out. Suddenly the little stiffy in my mouth is pulsating, throbbing hotly as something even hotter strikes the roof of my mouth like a dart. Two, three thin, stringy shots, more viscous than water—but hardly as thick as my own seed—fill my mouth, and I clamp down even tighter on his cock, my tongue pressing his length up into the roof of my mouth. With my tongue pressed up against the underside of his cock, I feel his cum surge upward within, feel his length pulsate and quiver, and I swallow around it, letting the sweet, slightly salty liquid trickle down my throat as I milk him of more. I start to rise back up, but I’m stopped by two little paws and a buck of his hips.

Now when did those get there? His hands are cupped around my ears. Lost in my fantasy from prior, I hadn’t even noticed his hands take hold of my head as I sucked his peen. I try again, and this time, he relents, and I’m able to see him lie there, half curled up into the couch, his chest rising and falling somewhat raggedly with his shaky breaths, breaths which occasionally turn into moans, and I watch his stiff little pole quiver and tremble as the last of his cum forms a bead up at the top. I poke at the underside of his head with my fingertip, pushing it back half an inch as I lick my lips and look up into his eyes.

“Look at that, little bro. Your cum,” I say, pointing out the little liquid pearl sitting atop his tip. His mouth lies open, ears still flat as he gradually recovers. “I swallowed most of it, of course. And remember when you couldn’t even cum, and were so worried about that? I told you you’re growing up. So don’t worry about it being small for now.” I reach up and ruffle his head fur. He ducks his head slightly in response, his ears lowering even further and eyes briefly squeezing shut. “And like I said. It’s cute like this~” He whimpers in protest. Then I slide my finger tip up, over his peehole, scooping up that little bead of cum, and touch it to the tip of my tongue as he watches.

He whines even louder, “D-don’t make it gay!” but his blush is even brighter. He shuffles his feet and turns his muzzle to the side. Then he huffs, “You’re such a fag, big brother.”

“So? You look like an even bigger one when you’re lying on your back, covering your mouth with both paws as I drive in and out of your cute little butt~”

He whines loudly, wriggling again. We sit in silence for a few moments, long enough for me to watch his peen shrink back down, pulse by pulse, into its flaccid, squishy former self. He shuffles around and pulls his pants back up, as I rise back up and sit beside him.

“Love you, bro,” I say, his muzzle turned away from me still.

He turns his head back toward me, but only a little bit, just far enough to look me in the eye from the corner of his own. Then his head ducks down into his shoulders, muzzle lowering a tad, and he says in his tiny voice, “Love you, too.”

I smile wide, kiss him on the cheek, then wrap my arms around him and pull him in close.

“Grrr,” he growls quietly at the kiss, but then the slight tension in his body melts away, he picks his legs up off the floor and onto the couch, and he curls up into my body, and wraps his arms around one of my own. His head sits on my chest, and I watch as post-climax drowse overwhelms his tiny body, and his eyelids start to drift shut. And I watch as a little smile sprouts on his face, as he nuzzles into my chest, warm and content.

I’m not a huge fan of either camping or cold weather. I’d normally rather stay at home, in the comfort of central heating, with all my friends a text or a phone call away. But it can be nice sometimes. With the cold outside, snow fluttering and wind howling, and the isolation a teeny cabin in the woods brings—the love and comfort of someone close, feels all the warmer.
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