Angel bit his lip, took in another breath, and slid a paw back across the plush carpet underneath himself, the Doberman finding a better center of balance there. His haunches had started to ache with the movements, though by now he had long since grown accustomed to the sensation and still wondered that he had not built up more of a resistance: docked tail hiked, back arched, head rolled back, he slid himself down again… felt the sweet, slick pressure of the toy sinking into his tailhole again, shivered, swallowed, gave the slightest of pushes from inside, then let that well out into a full-on heave… and gasped again when the bulge of the knot slipped up inside of him. It stretched at his rim, forced it open, slid in past the ring – and he pushed again so that the slick, saliva-wet stretch of taut, elastic flesh parted around the base of the knot, folded in place, and sealed along the root.

Once down he let out that breath, shuddered again, and relaxed, finally letting his weight relax against the ground again. The wide base of the toy nudged up against his rump, helping to lift his nub tail further; he loved the sensation of the stiff silicone nudging up against his spine from inside, and the sense of deep, fulfilling pressure, and the bright, insistent warmth that fizzled and flared up each time he clenched or rocked his hips, and… and once more he glanced over his shoulder at the door to his bedroom, purposely left cracked. Still nothing.

Maybe I’m not making enough noise. He inhaled, held it, sighed back out, then once again swept his paws across the carpet to get back down onto all fours, and then with his footpaws clamped around the base of the toy started to lift up… and pushed at the same time, so that he felt the buried knot swell against the interior of his tailhole, and tug outwards at it, and stretch it around its girth, and-

-felt Drash working her finger slowly deeper inside of him, his sister resting her weight against him there on the couch at the start of the previous year’s summer break. Their parents were in just the next room, bustling around, chatting among themselves in preparation for their weeklong vacation. Asking each of the siblings questions, making sure Drash knew that she was in charge of the house since she was the older of the two, and telling Angel that he could have some of his school friends over, and he was trying to listen, but really all that held his attention was the sensation of the other Doberman’s finger wriggling, sloshing, slurping within his guts.

And then she found that good spot, the one that made him gasp and arch his back and tighten around her. While she replied to Mom about something, she turned her head and leaned forward, and used the movement to sink in past another knuckle; Angel gasped again and wrenched his legs together, flame burning, sizzling inside of him. Drash glanced at him, winked, then looked back at their mother, then leaning in around the corner into the kitchen…

...and his sister then worked a second finger in alongside the first, pumping each together, sliding out until his tailhole reflexively clenched them out, then relaxed to let them back in. And each time she buried them to the base inside of him, his gym shorts and underwear tugged just far enough down for her to reach. Her paw settled so nicely, so snug, underneath his tail; with those two middle fingers pumping up inside of him, the surrounding two teased and tugged at his tailhole, slightly slick from where she had licked her fingers before pressing them in, and-

And Angel gasped, clenched around the tapered end of the toy, and then smoothly slid himself right back down, feeling the sculpted contours of the canine shape, the little nubs of carved veins… the growing bulge of the knot again. Each time he pushed down onto it made it easier and easier, to the point where he could now use this one as warm-up and instead head over to the other, larger one, knot about as wide around as one and a half of his clenched fists, which of course Drash had gotten for him for his last birthday, and-

-every time the knot punched in past the rim of his tailhole, the muscle steadily loosening and stretching, he couldn’t help but imagine it was hers instead. That camping trip this past summer, Drash’s idea, and Mom and Dad let them go because they had already started college, of course they were old enough to go on their own, Drash at State and Angel himself attending the community college while deciding on his degree path.

The morning in the chill depths of the woods even though it was summer, mist hovering close around the ground, wrapping the two dogs in their own little world… with the air of the tent tight, dank, humid with rich canine musk, Drash pawing herself off at the other end, Angel pretending to still be asleep while he watched. He figured that she knew that he knew, and thought that was why she was getting so into it: sleeping bag thrown back, head lolled to one side, one paw massaging and caressing a plump, full breast, other squeezing behind the root of her still unswollen knot. In fact, just before they had left home, she had made sure her younger brother got a taste of that nipple, letting him suck and tongue and pant and huff, while guiding his paw between her legs to grope and feel her, without ever actually taking her out of her pants.

And then she came, quick and sudden and hard, watery spurts jetting up towards the angled roof of the tent and splashing back down across her, fat knot swelling out, scent of canine arousal puffing like steam – and Angel had nearly finished as well, barely one finger nudging underneath his tail where he lay still in his own sleeping bag on his side.

Knot settled deep, the Doberman swallowed, sighed, then swung himself forward again, letting pure momentum drag him up and around the extra girth. It sucked out at his insides, making his toes curl, forcing him to clench again, and then he felt himself hit with another warm burst of his own musk-

-so much like his sister’s, as he found out that first time some… two years ago now, perhaps, when they had gone off on their own on the family hike. She said she had to piss, and found that spot on the ridge overlooking the rest of the path, and Angel tugged at her sleeve to get her to come back down since literally anyone could look up and see her, but she had already unzipped her fly, and in one smooth move scooped herself out… and then he was the one looking, staring at the plump, hefty sheath, the full balls hanging down in loose, velvet-skinned sack, draping out across her fingers where she held them.

And then he smelled her. High, rich, a little bit of spice, a touch of the perfume she wore… and the rich, copper-rust aroma that then strengthened again when she nudged the lip of her sheath back between a forefinger and thumb, rich luscious red poking out. And she watched him as she relieved herself, eyes half-closed in the pleasure mixed with relief; he still remembered the way she had drawn in a breath, gently bit her lip, fluttered her eyes… and then sighed back out when she began, warm yellow stream trickling out across her fingers and along the underside of her revealed tip, then rising out to splash down across the foliage below, and… the scent of fresh, hot piss mixed and muddled with her musk, and then her other paw was on his shoulder pushing him down, and then his nose was being yanked up against the side of her sheath where he could feel the trickling rhythm of her mark as it poured out of her, and…

The doberman shifted his position, now leaning back, propping himself up on his elbows, and using his own weight to keep the toy in place underneath him. He rolled his head back on his shoulders, closed his eyes, let his mouth fall open, and rode it while imagining this was Drash underneath him, her full, swollen knot nudging against his tailhole, pounding in, sucking tight, and then popping right back out, the wet, stretched ring slurping around her, wanting her, needing her.

Angel could never remember a time when he wanted to get off by something other than having something shoved underneath his tail, though his sister’s intervention fairly early into his self-discovery had practically sealed the deal: he could count on one hand the number of orgasms he had gotten by the usual methods, paw around shaft and whatever else all the other boys liked, but when he got into it all he wanted was to get down on all fours, and hike his tail, and to feel Drash’s tongue slipping up inside of him like she had done for the first time on that hike, and then one finger moving to two, then three, then four, then six, then eight as the months stretched into years, and then the first time her wrist had slurped up inside of him had made him pop right then and there, and as her knot – as his toy’s knot, that was – slipped up inside him again, he felt that familiar, hot pressure starting to grow inside.

He licked his lips again, swallowed through a dry throat, pressed down, pushed until he felt the slick lips of his tailhole blossoming out against the base of the toy and a warm trickle dribbling down his bellyfur from his half-hard shaft. Angel shuddered, clenched again, hoisted his hips up, pulled up off of the knot before it even had a chance to lift from the floor, and slammed onto onto it again.

“Ah – fuck – Drash…”

And outside the door to his bedroom, his sister leaned in around the corner with one paw at her mouth and the other in her pants, stroking slowly. She nibbled at her thumb, careful not to nip the painted claw; she loved seeing Angel in the depths of his self-pleasure, watching the toned muscles of his lower body tense and tug as he rode, seeing and especially hearing the way his hungry, insatiable tailhole worked the shaft of the toy.

He’s thinking about me, she thought, now slipping her paw out of her pants to undo her fly. Thought I just heard him say my name. God only knows how many times I’ve pawed off thinking of finally pounding that cute little butt of his.

She had almost gotten him on their camping trip the other month, but apparently his sensitivity had only been increasing as the weeks passed: Drash had barely been able to work him up to the fourth finger before he had spurted all across his sleeping bag, barely hard enough to poke out of his sheath as he had done so.

He was in heat now, of course. Of course, Drash thought, glancing away from the door at her own cock, full in her paw out in the hallway. Of course he’s in heat. Heard enough from him and the doctor visits to know that there’s something going on with his hormone levels, and something about his particular… biological setup, so he goes into heat. Might have the proper interior workings to bring that all the way around, too. She looked back to the door, reached out, nudged it open slightly further; inside the bedroom Angel hoisted his pert, lovely rear into the air again, high enough to come fully off of the toy, and gave a fierce enough push that rich, luscious folds of inner red meat folded out from within his gaping tailhole, and then slurped right back in when he sat back down around it.

And of course he goes into heat on the weekend Mom and Dad are out of town again. And of course it’s a weekend when we’re both off from classes. And of course he’s… leaving his door open, hoping I’ll catch him and come help him out, and…

And as he sank all the way down again, Drash made the same motion with her paw along her own shaft, imagining that it was his tailhole instead sucking snug around her cock, her knot, her root, rolling her sheath back, and then up again. It was what she wanted more than anything, to finally pound her younger brother good and hard just like he deserved, but living with their parents meant that there was next to no chance to play around other than these few weekends when they went out of town.

But of course she never let him know how much she wanted it. That was part of the facade, part of the fun of it: time and time again she would walk past his bedroom here and put a docked ear up to the closed door, and hear the familiar, expected sound of fur rustling across bedsheets, of his steady panting and groaning, of the wet, sloppy slurps of his loose tailhole – I still remember when he was too tight for three fingers, she thought with another smirk, and now he uses six to warm up, all thanks to me – and then, inevitably, the quick, sharp intakes of breath, the half-suppressed moan so as not to wake their parents, and the jerking, snipped sighs that followed… Drash would hear all of this through his closed door, and then she would just have to head back to her own room and take care of herself, too.

Instead it was much more fun to wait for his heat to cycle by, and to have him literally on his knees begging for her, knowing that he would be unable to get anything like what she could give him. She was the one who had led him down this path, and showed him just how good it felt for him to work that hind end of his; of course she knew how to handle it better than anyone else. Maybe even better than himself: she turned back to the doorway, now stroking herself with steady, invested rhythm, and kept her eyes focused at the way her younger brother’s tailhole sucked in around the shaft of the toy, blossomed out around the swell of its knot, and then tugged back out of himself, luscious pink lips curling out for a hint of the rich, succulent red folds inside, then back and forth, again, and again, Angel’s breath coming fast and hard, his chest heaving just as his lower belly poked out with the toy shoving up into him.

Drash bit her lip, peered in closer, slid her other paw down to squeeze and massage behind the base of her knot, just the way she had taught him to do. Ever since the siblings had begun their illicit relationship, she couldn’t recall ever seeing him touch himself that way to get off, but at least he still knew his way around a cock – but here, now, back in his bedroom his head swung forward and he looked down across himself, facing the doorway yet of course not seeing it. Drash’s ears perked with the familiar sounds of her brother’s approaching peak, worked herself faster and harder in turn, leaned in closer… then clapped that paw to her mouth to stifle her own gasps and grunts as first Angel came, the fierce shudders racking his body, reverberating out through his already trembling muscles with a few quick, pale spurts out across his bellyfur, then with his sister seeing his pleasure and finishing herself within seconds. She jerked away from the wall, nearly slammed back into it, and then yanked forward, breathing her own musk in from where it had matted down the fur of her paw – and heard the powerful, wet smack of her first rope splattering against the opposite wall, and then the second, and the third… and then she looked down at herself, hefty shaft hanging down beneath its own weight, tugging down and out from the supple skin of her sheath, loose balls draping further.

Panting steadily, the warmth of this shared yet separate orgasm vibrating sweetly through her, Drash rested her head back against the wall, took a moment to catch her breath, and then swung forward, everything still hanging out of her pants. She glanced at the streak across the opposite wall for a moment; let Angel wonder what that is. I’ll find some time to clean it up before Mom and Dad get back Sunday night.

But I hope I find him huffing and licking it clean instead.

~ ~ ~

Drash could feel the tension shivering throughout her brother’s body even as the game between them continued to play out on the living room TV. He knew his way around the controller better than she did, but still she felt that she held up fairly well; the new installment to the series had come out just a few weeks ago, and it was one the siblings had played together growing up, so of course they had gone out and split the cost to pick it up, and both had been looking forward to spending this time together.

And more, of course, the Doberman thought, sneaking a glance over at Angel beside her. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, attention on the screen, jaw set, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth through the concentration… and the high, steady aroma of his sizzling heat hovering around him like steam.

It was intoxicating, and took everything Drash had to not let him know that it drove her wild. But even though both focused on the game, she still felt distinctly aware that each of them knew where the other’s true attention was, and that each was also at the same time trying to pretend otherwise.

Every time her knee bumped against his, he jerked it away as though startled, like a high school kid out on a first date with his crush. Not anymore, Drash thought, and licked her lips. Not for quite a while.

She gently wet her lips, feeling the smooth, slick surface given from the rich violet lipstick she had chosen earlier today. That was another reason she looked forward to their parents leaving: she got to break out everything that she knew made her even more irresistible to her brother. Of course it was everything she wore to class and at work anyway, but living with their parents meant that they still had some bullshit restrictions while under their roof, and Drash had been considering asking Angel if he might want to rent an apartment with her, and…

“Hey. How’re classes going?”

One of Angel’s ears flicked towards her voice. He jumped a bit, startled by the unexpected contact; onscreen his character slowed to a stop, then continued again.

“Oh. Um.” His high, warm tenor cut easily over the noise of the game. “Good. I guess.”

“Exams coming up?”

“Yeah. You too?”

“Yeah.”

“We gonna be… studying again?”

Again she smirked. “If you want. I assumed so.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I, um…” Angel bumped his knees together and squirmed a little bit. That scent puffed out a little stronger, the slightest implication more than enough to rekindle the flame of arousal simmering inside of him… “Yeah. Calc is being, uh… a bit of a bitch.”

“Always is. Glad I’m no longer minoring in math.” Drash settled back, deliberately brushing her shoulder against his. As expected Angel jerked away, but then after a moment relaxed back into place; his sister pursed her lips, tilted her head… drew in another slow, steady breath, rich with his scent. Fuck me and my huge fucking dick, she thought, purposely crossing one leg over the other – which pressed in at the underside of her sheath, tugged the slick skin back, made her throb again. I had to get all the size, and Angel got none of it. And that just makes it harder for me to hide a fucking boner.

She left it at that, though, pretending to focus in on the game again. Their little distraction had been earlier in the afternoon, right after Mom and Dad had left for their trip; even before the sound of the car engine had disappeared down the street Angel had bustled off to his room, and then Drash had followed soon after and found him there… and now some hours later the siblings had come to their usual spot on the couch in front of the TV, the smell of frozen pizza bites and fries coming up in the oven, a pair of sodas sitting on the edge of the coffee table. Drash was on her third, Angel on his second; she was starting to feel the simmering warmth of a bladder approaching full, and knew that he was probably expecting this of her, and the last time the two had had time alone she had brought him into the bathroom and had him aim for her, and even as they cleared the current level she noticed him glancing over at her, and looking down at her lap, and squirming a bit where he sat.

“Did you get that date with that gal you were texting?”

“Huh? Oh. Uh, no.”

“Had a boyfriend already again?”

“No. Girlfriend.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Yeah.”

“And how are you handling your heat?”

He froze, thumb clamped on the stick so that the menu continually cycled down and around itself. Surprise flickered across his muzzle and pierced through his scent, though with it came a smoother, sweeter roil of what she knew to be relief – which reinforced her suspicions that he had been fishing for her attention. She still remembered the first time it had happened: “you’re a… girl,” embarrassed, “you know about, um… going into… heat… right?”

“It’s…” Angel finally lifted his thumb, tapped his claws on the controller while thinking, swallowed, licked his lips, swallowed again. Then he looked up at his sister, emerald eyes wide. “I’m losing my mind, Drash. It’s – hard for me to sit here and focus on this, but I know I have to, since I…”

“Oh?” She reached forward to place her controller onto the table, and in the same move took another sip of her drink. “Why do you have to?”

“Well – because I-”

“It’s your body. You go into heat for a reason. Don’t you think it’s wrong to deny that?”

“Drash, you-”

“I can help you out, you know.” She rested a paw on his thigh, felt the simmering heat boiling out there, leaned over a bit… showed her fangs in between violet lips. “I thought that’s why you wanted to play together. I thought you meant, you know… play.”

“W-well, I…” And then he glanced away, suddenly too shy to maintain that eye contact. Drash felt her nub-tail wag. “I mean, I can take care of myself, and…”

“I know you can. I heard you just a few hours ago.”

“Wait, wait, you were-”

That scent again: shock, surprise… relief. “You left your door open on purpose, idiot. Of course I saw.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt. Looked like you were having the time of your life.” She leaned in a little closer, pressing her paw into his thigh, coaxing him to turn and start leaning back towards the arm of the couch. Confusion simmered into the mixture of his aroma. “Besides, I didn’t think I needed to. I could’ve sworn I heard you moan – ‘oh, Drash, oh…’”

“Drash!”

“Yeah, a bit like that, only lower. Huskier.” With her other paw she gripped his jaw, tilted his head up and back, and squished his lips forward. She felt his throat pulse against her palm when he swallowed.

“Dvsh-”

Then she released him again. “But. If you say you’ve got it handled yourself, then… well, who am I to impose? I suppose I’ll just…” Drash pressed her paws against her knees and stood up. She made sure not to look back at him. “Go mind my own business, then.”

She turned her head, moved as though to take a step, held there… and heard the low, rumbling whine, the insistent neediness, the desperation. It wasn’t like she could glance between his legs for a hint – she really had inherited all of the size between the two of them – but it was more than clear in the way he held his ears and tail, how he wriggled and squirmed, how he licked his lips when he looked up at her, how he glanced from her eyes, to her mouth, to her chest, to her groin, to her chest again.

So she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Y’wanna do my homework for all of next week?”

“Drash…”

“You wanna…” The couch cushions sagged again as she once more took her place beside him, though this time she hooked her paws underneath his legs, lifted him up so that he more fully lay down across the couch, and then worked around towards his waist. She tossed the hem of his shirt up; he gasped and shivered again, the same reaction she would have gotten had she bitten him, and then squirmed. Sleek, streamlined legs reached out to wrap around her body; Drash brought her paws in, rested one right along the fly of his pants, nudged the other thumb at the button. “Sit in for me at my exams too? If we put you in eyeliner and mascara, nobody will be able to tell the difference.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“You could… mmm…” If she kept on talking, if she kept him moving, then he might not be able to see how hard she was already. Drash swallowed, nostrils simmering in his scent already: heat indeed, she thought, fingers burning with the wet warmth emanating out through the fabric of his pants. The button popped free, the hard flesh underneath twitched as much as it could, the zipper pulled easily. “Go to work for me, too. I’m getting tired of my shift schedule.”

“Mhmm…”

Her brother squirmed around her again. One leg went up, and then the other, aiding her as she slid his jeans off. His boxers felt suffused with the same sensation as well, rich dank warmth spreading across; one paw scooping underneath his rump and the other teasing at the waistband, Drash couldn’t help but run her fingers underneath, where she felt the way he rolled to one side, lifted up, wagged his cropped little tail.

“And also take my car in for the inspection. It’s overdue. You can pay for it, too.”

“Yeah…”

“And then… you can… well, dishes need to be done, and…” Drash licked her lips, awash in his rich, potent musk, so similar to her own yet deeper, wider, sharper with that undeniable, slightly masculine kick. Only slightly; with her eyes closed, and had she not already been familiar, she very would could have clocked him as another female. Hormones, she thought distantly; Angel’s boxers slid easily down around his hard shaft and pert little sheath, tight balls keeping snug against the base, and he lifted one of his legs again to let her slide his clothing the rest of the way off. Warmth and aroma poured across her again, drawing her in even closer. “And the… lawn needs to be mowed, and…”

“Mm…”

And she didn’t even need to spread his rump, once she hoisted his backside up into the air far enough. Legs draped over her shoulders, little tail tugged down… and if she hadn’t already known, then the plush, plump protrusion of the other dog’s tailhole would have been more than enough of a sign. Something else with his hormone balance, Drash figured, causing him to plump up and push out just like a regular canine spade would during heat: normally tight – in appearance, certainly not in usage – wrinkles of skin had filled out and lifted up, with the muscular ring of his rim protruding a good, full inch away from the rest of his rump, the semi-firm yet plush squish lifting out at his rump from within.

The two had spoken about it before: he could feel it when he was in heat, too, the way his tailhole swelled and pressed out, uncomfortable within underwear and clothing. That was why he so often squirmed from side to side, swollen puckered lips squeezing in against wherever he was sitting, sensitivity cranked up to unmanageable levels. Even with Drash simply breathing in his scent and then sighing back out across him, he twitched and flexed and clenched, sheath pulsing, full hole tugging in and then lurching back out again.

“You… can…” but this time Drash trailed off, completely enveloped in her brother’s presence. She wrapped her arms around his legs, rested his back against her chest, tilted her head down, brushed her nose against the back of his sack – more like a pouch, she thought for what was certainly not the first time; then pursed her lips forward, brushed them across his tailhole, felt him pucker and twitch and kiss her back… and thick, wet slickness smeared across her, also like an in-heat spade.

She kept herself there, her brother’s musk rich and intoxicating, and brought a thumb up to tease along the plump rim of his tailhole. That slickness continued inside, the muscle yielding easily to this first touch – and she also knew from experience that this was not the result of his morning distraction. Knotfucking himself on his warm-up toy certainly helped, but this was just part of the heat: the self-lubrication, the desire, the biological need to have something shoved up inside of him and pumping deep.

For herself Drash knew that she would have needed to first plunge that thumb between her lips, and swirl her tongue around, and get it nice and slick and wet, and then she would also have to spit in her paw and smear that across her tailhole, and then with some back-and-forth and some teasing she would be able to work in to the first knuckle… but with Angel’s unprepared heat, the swollen lips of his rim instead parted easily around the adventurous digit, sleek flesh squelching as it sucked in around her, and she plunged right in to her palm. Slick, succulent inner meat sleeved deliciously around her, soft and malleable; he gasped and groaned as she wriggled her thumb around inside of him, feeling the way his soft, plush guts squelched around her, then folded again when she leaned down to slip her tongue in as well.

Slip – more like scoop with the way his tailhole parted again for her, folds of flesh sliding around the broad muscle, giving way to the wet warmth inside. It felt like digging her tongue into the flesh of a grapefruit left out in the sun for a few minutes: contoured, slick, with soft wrinkles and folds, pockets of squishy wetness… Drash churned her jaw with the rhythm of her licking, scooping deeper and deeper, deliberately dragging up inside of him towards where she knew would drive him wild.

Her thumb drifted out of him just as easily as she had pressed it in, and with the new opportunity available, she parted her lips, opened her mouth, and then sealed her maw around her brother’s protruding tailhole, sucking him gently in again just like she would have done to a canine spade. One paw came up and spread across Angel’s muzzle, the other bunching the cloth of his shirt in a half-suppressed moan; his leg kicked over her shoulder and he clenched, the ring of muscle trying its best to squeeze around her, yet managed little more than a faint flex.

Still all stretched out from this morning, she thought, remembering the way the silicone knot had so easily pumped up inside of him, and then pulled back out. Swollen up like this with his heat, that thing probably gave him… I don’t know. Maybe two full lateral inches of butthole outside of his body. Fuckin’ nice. And, sucking on him… And she did, squeezing her lips in, pulling, with tongue continuing to scoop and slurp deep inside, working his inner flesh around her; she sucked, swallowed, suckled further, felt the natural sticky, slimy warmth of his arousal and heat fizzle into her mouth and mix with her saliva… I can sure feel it. Two inches seems right.

As Drash sucked she flicked her tongue out, caressed the outer rim of her brother’s protruding tailhole, pressed it back in, repeated. With one paw keeping his lower back in place, she reached down to undo her own pants with the other, a quick sigh of relief puffing out from nostrils flared just above the underside of his balls when she finally drew herself out into the air – and again stroked and rubbed at herself, her full arousal thick, dense, heavy. She, too, still bore the remnants of their shared distraction earlier in the day, musk strengthened and thickened from the caught wetness; her sheath clung to the root of her shaft, knot still unswollen, and the Doberman had to roll a finger beneath the rim to peel it free.

Underneath her, her brother squirmed and gasped again, his eyes shut, his mouth open… his tailhole open, too, when she drew back to catch her breath. Thick strands of sticky saliva hung down between her mouth and the point of her focus, and then with both thumbs reaching in along his thighs, it took only the slightest of tugs for the wet inner meat to smack apart from itself, lips pulling open, rich red interior bunching together in a reflexive squeeze and then push.

Drash peered forward at him, grinned when he blushed and looked away, and then once against closed the distance. This time her pursed lips pressed into his rim, the swollen, soft exterior folding out around her; she closed her eyes, swallowed, then swirled her tongue about her chops, slurping inside of him where she held herself. Holding there she suckled again, interspersing each draw with another flick of the tongue, until her jaw pulled down with each deep, full lick.

“Oh, God…” Angel breathed, his paw again splayed across his face. “Drash, that’s…”

“Mhmm?” She opened her eyes, the word rumbling out into his guts. Still slurping, she once more brought her paw up and this time rolled three fingers into him beneath her chin, giving the loose muscle a good tug; a fourth finger easily joined the others and she drew back, pulling down, revealing more of those succulent, inner folds of rich red. “What was that?”

“You’re – gonna…”

“Gonna what?”

Gently Drash lowered him down a bit, though his legs remained wrapped around her. She lifted her arm, brought her thumb in towards her palm, nudged her paw up a bit… and pressed smoothly inside of him, facing only the slightest pressure as her knuckles bumped in along his rim, and then sank inside. Yet again he squeezed on reflex, hips lifting up, nub-tail trembling, and then he relaxed again.

“Gonna… make me…”

His weight sank down against her as she drew back, finding the leverage to pump her arm deeper inside. Luscious, silken wetness of internal meat slid across her fur, completely unlubricated other than the natural moisture of his heat; Drash pushed deep, as deep as she could until she felt the inner rings of muscle and tension press back against her paw, then twisted her arm and pulled back out, fur matted, wrist tugging at his rim, drawing it back out into those full two inches… and then slurped back in again. She watched the way his sheath pulsed and his belly swelled out with the first half of her arm.

Drash buried herself in almost to the elbow and used the angle to lean in over him again. She flicked her tongue out across her lips, smearing off the sticky slickness left there from the inside of his tailhole. “Yeah? Wanna finish that sentence?”

Look at me, she thought with a smirk. Angel, naturally, did not respond. Elbow deep in my little brother. And we’ve got exams next week. Amazing. There’s a biology joke in there, I’m sure, but…

Again he squeezed, muscles straining throughout the occupied length of his bowels, inner twists and turns slurping in around his sister’s arm. Drash remained buried inside of him, flexed her fingers out, bunched then to a fist again, and then pulled back again, this time going out of her way to scrape out against his inner walls, to stretch him inside as far as she could. Angel’s breath and voice both caught in his throat, and she felt him straining, squeezing again, trying his best to keep her inside as she turned her body, shoulder coming up and back – and then his succulent wet tailhole sleeved out along her wrist, and her bunched fist, and her fingers, and slurped free, and hung loose in the air before wrapping back into itself.

Many times before – on these weekends their parents left town, or in the bathrooms at school at lunch, or in the par on the way back from visiting a friend’s house, or in any other opportunity the two could manage – Drash had been content to slurp and suckle and devour her brother’s hind end to quite quickly bring both of them to their peak, him handsfree as usual and her enjoying herself in whatever position made it easiest, but here on the couch, today, as his hind end shakily lowered back down towards her lap, and as his legs wrapped more tightly around her body… Drash slid her paws, one of them slick and sticky, up underneath Angel’s shirt, then dragged her claws back down, and reached down to smack the underside of her full shaft against his still opened, still flexing tailhole.

Plush red meat flexed inward in response, then blossomed out once more. It felt like a pair of sleek, wet lips pursing out for a kiss; Drash rocked her hips slowly forward and back, smearing herself in the natural lubrication of his guts. It would be so easy to sink on into him; she looked down, watched the way those inner folds bloomed out against and around her, how she might – might – be able to knot him on the first thrust… whether she would be able to plunge inside, then reach her arm in as well and then paw off inside of him.

“Drash…” Angel moaned. He lifted his legs. “I… want you to… um…”

She perked her ears, grinned up at him, lifted up… pulled back, rested the tip of her heavy cock against the plush, slimy warmth of his gaping tailhole. “Yeah?” she purred in response, then drew back a little further, let herself nudge in – and sank smoothly, sweetly, easily inside of him on that first gentle push. She had planned to continue there, ‘you want me to what?’ but instead the sensation of finally pressing into her brother after so many years spent teasing and exploring one another, of finally getting to experience this him, just overwhelmed her.

Drash’s head swung back on her shoulders, and her claws dug into the fabric of the couch cushions, and a low, hungry growl rumbled in her throat, and she worked her hips forward, plunging deeper into the silken velvet of his stretched guts. Thick, wet slurps and slops puttered out across her shaft as he reflexively pressed back from inside, as though trying to push her out – but then he squirmed and shifted again, chest filling out with a shaky intake of breath, belly swelling again as she plunged deeper… and Drash continued in, one paw bracing against her waist for leverage, lips of her sheath wrinkling back across her root, half-swollen knot easily making its way in.

And then her brother realized what was going on. His eyes flashed open, he swallowed, and he hoisted himself up onto his elbows – then gasped and fell back. “Drash! We can’t – you don’t-”

“Well, we are, and you… God…” She returned her paws to his waist, to his slim, effeminate hips, and held him place so that she could slide back out. Thick, glistening smears of his arousal streaked across her; she shivered, swallowed, and thrust back in, the protruding donut of his tailhole sucking in around her, pattering out again, then resuming its original length snug around the contours of her shaft. She loved the way it felt like a mouth, like his lips sealing in first against and then around her sheath. “You feel… so fucking… good, I can’t believe we haven’t… done this before…”

“Because it’s-” Angel groaned again. All of his muscles fluttered and trembled around her, sucking deliciously snug without being tight. “-wrong-”

Drash thrust in to her base again, lifting her brother’s rump in her lap, leaning down over him so that she could feel his quick, urgent breaths. “That certainly hasn’t stopped us before.”

“Well, sure, but-”

Then she drew back, pounded forward, did so again, and again. Her hips smacked against his backside, his little tail hoisted up and out of the way; whatever Angel had intended to say next instead dribbled out as a breathless, tingling moan, his legs falling limp for a moment around his sister’s waist, his well-used muscles straining to clench again.

Drash bit her lip and swallowed. She shifted on the couch to find a stronger angle. “What was that?”

“I – you – ah – hah-”

“Mhmm?”

“I can’t – mmh – Drash…”

His noises, the expression on his face, the way he clutched at the fur of his chest and dragged his claws down the couch cushions, how she could feel him working his hips in her lap, loose tailhole slurping easily around her knot even as it began to swell out… how his insides sucked in around her, coaxing her closer and closer to her peak, so quick, so luscious, so… irresistible.

Before she knew it, she had lowered him back down and now thrust down into him, her paws pressing into the couch on either side of his shoulders, her muzzle directly above his. She kept her jaw clenched, her teeth gritted, her eyes halfway closed; each breath puffed out and across his muzzle, rustling through his fur, while his lurched and rocked with her fierce, indulgent rhythm. Her brother’s low, steady moans tickled across her ears, so sweet, so invigorating; Drash buried herself deep, held there, and then just as smoothly pulled free, half-swollen knot tugging at his inner rim, drawing it out, then squishing it back in against itself so that it bloomed around her again.

He felt like nothing else she had experienced before, and so much better than she had expected, even after burying herself elbow-deep in him countless times before. Like warm, slick silk, like sweet wet velvet at once caressing yet squeezing around her, guts sleeving perfectly about her length, hot, pulsing, writhing… she tossed her head back, licked her lips, gritted her teeth, then yanked back, pounded forward, yanked, thrust, again, again – and her knot swelled out to its full size, two fists held side by side, and she pressed herself in until his tailhole yielded to her with only a bit of resistance, then tugged out, then pressed in again – and then the force of her finish lanced through her like a bolt of lightning.

For a moment she almost thought she had blacked out, since all vision escaped her; then she realized she had just been squeezing her eyes so tightly shut that, for a moment, they would not open. Drash’s chest heaved in slow, steady breaths, and when she swallowed again she noticed that a thick strand of drool had dribbled from between her lips to splatter across her brother’s muzzle. He looked asleep underneath her, eyes closed, mouth open, breathing steadily as well; then he shivered, bit his lip, squirmed… clenched around her buried knot, and cast an exhausted smile up at her.

“You… bitch…” he panted, and weakly reached up to nudge her shoulder.

Drash laughed. “Look who’s talking. I’m not the one who came just from having my fat, wet pussy pounded like none of your little boyfriends could ever do.”

“Got… that right…” Angel swallowed again, lifted up, glanced down across himself, then chuckled at seeing the thin streaks of his own load decorating his fur. That must have been the feeble, fervent clenching that Drash had felt. “...God. And now we’ve gotta wait for your knot to go down, and – wait, don’t-”

But, of course, they didn’t. Drash lifted up, brought her knees underneath her, and tugged… and felt those full two inches of tailhole smear across her knot before folding back, quite easily letting her free with a wet, sticky shlup. She drew the rest of the way out, ran her paw across herself, then wiped the sticky wetness off along Angel’s inner thigh.

“Left you a gift in there,” she rumbled with a wink. “Treasure it always. Or at least until Mom and Dad come back. Also, sit up, loser. You unpaused the game, like, seven minutes ago.”

~ ~ ~

Angel pressed a paw to his mouth and stifled another hiccup, clutching the shopping bag close around itself in one paw. Thankfully there was a pharmacy within walking distance of the school, and obviously it carried what he needed, but… the exhaustion with which he had grown steadily more familiar over this past month and a half washed across him again, and the Doberman paused to rest against the streetlamp. He reached up, rubbed at his chest, winced, tugged his shirt away from himself in what had also become habit recently; his nipples had always been a bit on the sensitive side, but this had increased over time as well, to the point where at home he usually tried to go entirely without a shirt, if not for the way they had started to swell and puff out as well, and…

And the box felt so heavy wrapped there within the bag, though in reality it probably weighed little more than a couple ounces. He lifted it up again, peered at the label through the translucent white plastic… felt his heart thump in his chest, as it did every time he considered the possibility. But these symptoms had been going on consistently enough that he had started to do some reading, and as usual the reading led to suspicion, which led to nervousness, which led to the sudden, shocking realization of that possibility… and he still hadn’t told her, of course.

And hopefully there’s no need to. The buzzer of the changing signal caught his ears; he lifted his head, took in another breath, looked both ways, and stepped down into the crosswalk. After class I’m gonna head straight home, and I’m gonna take this out, and get it done, and then nothing’s gonna happen. I’m just gonna have… a cold, or the flu, or some other seasonal illness. It’s not… I’m not gonna be… As he walked he rested a paw across his belly, pressed his fingers into the fur and flesh there, squeezed at himself.

The hormone imbalances, the heat – though it was too early for him to go into another cycle... the cravings, though he shuddered to call them that, and then the various aches and pains, the nausea (morning sickness, his fears told him), this extra sensitivity in certain parts of his body…

...the pregnancy test, still in its box, wrapped up within the folds of the pharmacy’s plastic shopping bag.

Please, please, please be wrong. I don’t want to be the title line of some fucking tabloid – ‘my sister got me pregnant’… God. Please be wrong. I hope I haven’t waited too long already, though.

Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.