If Dad could only see us now...
They think I'm reading The Hunger Games, but I'm really pretty deep into Game of Thrones. A bunch of kids killing each other off in the woods is fine, but Westeros is a lot more spicy, if you get my drift. And no, it's not because of the family stuff, though my little brother Roger always wants me to dog-ear those parts so he can read them later. Just those parts, he's not too interested in reading actual paper books.
The 'rents aren't too strict on bedtimes for either of us because of our grades. I do pretty well, and I help Roger out when he has problems. You don't forget that much stuff from middle school to high school, not really.
I'm about a third of the way into that giant book when I hear Roger's door open across the hall. I look over at my bedside clock and see that it's only 10:30. He's been impatient lately, barely waiting ten minutes after Mom and Dad turn in to come in. He doesn't even knock anymore, he just opens it and slinks right in, popping the lock behind him. Undies only, not even a night shirt like he used to wear.
What happened to the shy, playful Roger I used to know? Well, still playful, but not at all shy. Or modest. His little-boy boner throws that out the window, barely hidden by his briefs. His brown eyes glow in the lamplight; I can tell because I can't ignore him once he comes in my room. He's annoying like that.
So why do I keep letting him in? Sometimes I wonder that myself. I feel my crotch tighten up as his tail brushes along my feet, a reaction made involuntary by the past couple weeks of activities. I never would have thought I would feel this way. I never thought Roger would, either. I feel something, I'm just not sure what yet.
"Heya," he says, sitting on my knee and sliding a paw up to the hem of my boxer briefs. I look over the book at him, all perky ears and red hair.
"Hey. Did you even listen for Dad's snoring?"
He twiddles with the fur on my thigh. "Not exactly. But I locked the door."
"They can come in with a bobby pin, you know."
"I know," he smiles, and for a moment I could swear he would enjoy getting caught. Maybe he's got this idea in his head about Dad joining us. I just can't see it. I still can't see us, for God's sake. Though I still don't know exactly what it is we're doing. Or I do know and just don't want to say it.
"Did you save up?" His fingers snake under the leg and his claws find my sac, pulling it from where it's tucked against my thigh and bringing it to full volume. He wants to suck it. I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
He repeats the question. "Yeah."
"Good. Take 'em off." Roger slides off and grasps the waistband, not even waiting for me to lift my legs. He gets them to my ankles and seems satisfied. He looks hungry when he comes back up to my half-hard shaft, two inches out already in anticipation of him. Out comes the tongue, but I can't do it. I cringe. "Whatsamatter?"
I look down my belly, past the yanked-up V of my shirt to where he's slowly stroking my sheath over the flesh of my hard dick, my little brother, just one word away from sucking me off. It would be my first time. Thing is, I don't know if it would be his. That angers me somewhat, thinking of him like that, but he's the one who started all of this. Watching me through the door, then asking to watch more closely. Now doing it for me.
He does it so good, too. His little fingers are perfect. I'm fighting a losing battle with myself.
"You won't be able to see me come," I say halfheartedly, and he nods while stroking. I can see I've disappointed him, but he doesn't want to disappoint me so he accedes. But by the way he hungrily eyes the bead of pre at my tip, it's only a matter of time before he gets what he wants.
"Aww, okay," he mock pouts. "At least put the book down so I can look at you."
I make a show of looking bothered and get the book only halfway down. He knows that in a couple minutes I'll have dropped it, and a few minutes after that I'll be panting and squirming around, painting his paw with cum. He's really, really good at it. He slides my sheath back behind my knot and I'm locked into following through.
First I'm looking at the ceiling, then my eyes are closed. Then I'm looking down again at Roger's dick poking out of his fly, escaped silently while I was distracted.
That first week he went back to his room to finish off. Then he asked to stay while I watched. Maybe tonight will be the night he asks me to help him. It would only be fair, for all the times he's done me.
A picture of me humping up under his tail, slick with cum, flashes through my head and I start. My cock swells, traitor that it is, and Roger picks up the pace. It might be a matter of time before I find myself in that position. Who would deny an orgasm so freely given?
Just like the one I'm about to have in, oh, four minutes? With Roger, it seems, everything's eventual.
***
Travis, Roger and story are \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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