College Roommates: Brothers Edition
*chapters 1 & 2 contain no sex*
The late-August heat still clung to the air when Lucas hauled the last duffle bag up the narrow staircase of the off-campus apartment building. Third floor, no elevator, same as last year. He didn’t mind; the burn in his quads and the light sweat on his forehead just gave him another excuse to strip off his tank top the second he got inside. “Yo, Sam! Door!” he called out, voice echoing in the stairwell.
A second later the door swung open and his younger brother appeared, black baseball cap turned backward as he always wore it, gray sweat-shorts riding low on his hips and a tight white T-shirt that somehow made his waist look smaller than it already was. “Thought you got lost at the gym again,” Sam said, smirking as he stepped aside. “Jesus, you reek.”
Lucas grinned, flexing one arm just to watch Sam roll his eyes. “That’s the smell of gains, little bro. You should recognize it by now.” He brushed past Sam into the living room, really just a cramped square with a secondhand couch, a coffee table permanently sticky from spilled liquor, and two mismatched gaming chairs facing a TV that took up half the wall. Empty boxes from last year’s move were still stacked in the corner; neither of them had ever been great at finishing the unpacking part.
Sam kicked the door shut and followed him in. “I already claimed the big bedroom again,” he announced, flopping onto the couch and propping his sneakered feet on the coffee table. The movement made his shorts ride up just enough to show the deep teardrop in his quads—evidence of a summer spent doing heavy squats in their parents’ garage.
Lucas snorted, dropping his bags by the hallway. “You mean the one with the window that actually opens? Yeah, I remember the deal. I get the bigger closet, you get the breeze. We’re still good.” They’d worked it out over FaceTime back in June, once they both got their housing assignments and realized sharing an apartment off-campus would be cheaper, and honestly easier than dealing with random roommates. Same university, one year apart, same last name on the lease. Their parents called it ‘keeping an eye on each other.’ Lucas and Sam both knew it really just meant nobody else could stand living with either of them for very long. Lucas peeled off his tank top and tossed it toward the laundry pile that was already forming in the corner. The afternoon light coming through the blinds striped across his torso, catching the thin trail of dark hair that ran down the center of his abs. He scratched lazily at his chest, then head for the fridge. “Place looks exactly the same,” he said, pulling out two cans of beer and lobbing one to Sam without looking.
Sam caught it one-handed. “Because you never throw anything away. I found your shaker cup from freshman year under the sink and it still has powder crust in it.” Sam cracked his can open and took a long drink. “You’re disgusting.”
“Takes one to know one.” Lucas retorted. For a minute they just sat there, Lucas leaning against the counter, Sam sprawled sideways across the couch letting the quiet settle. It was familiar. Easy. They’d shared a room growing up until Lucas left for college first, and even then Sam had practically lived in the dorm with him half of freshman year. People always assumed they’d get sick of each other. They never really had.
“So,” Sam said eventually, tilting his head back against the armrest so the bill of his cap shaded his eyes. “Classes start Monday. You still planning on that 8am lifting class?”
“Power lifting Techniques? Yeah. Coach Ramirez teaches it. Figure it’ll keep me honest.” Lucas flexed his chest absently, watching the muscle jump. “And no 8ams, thank you. I’m not a psychopath.” Lucas laughed, deep and easy. “We’ll see how long that lasts once you start missing leg day because you slept through your alarm.”
Sam flipped him off without lifting his head. “Some of us have genetics that do half the work for us.”
Lucas’s eyes flicked down to the way Sam’s shorts hugged the curve of his glutes even while sitting, then flicked away just as fast. He took a swig from his can. “Yeah, yeah. Save the humble brag for your Instagram story.”
Sam grinned, slow and smug as he let the words roll out like he’d invented perfection itself. “Don’t hate the glutes bro just because the rest of the world is still trying to catch up. Appreciate the masterpiece.”
Lucas rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he pushed off the counter and head down the short hallway toward his room. “Come help me unpack the truck later and maybe I’ll let you pick the takeout tonight.”
“Only if we’re getting Thai,” Sam called after him.
“Deal,” Lucas answered, voice already muffled as he disappeared around the corner. The apartment settled into the low hum of the fridge and the distant sound of someone blasting music two floors down. Another year, same chaotic little kingdom. Just the two of them.
Chapter 2: Late-Night Leg Day
*chapters 1 & 2 contain no sex*
The campus gym was nearly empty at 10:30pm on a Thursday. The hum of fluorescent lights, a rhythmic clank of iron, and the faint bass leaking from a couple of headphones across the room set the vibe. Lucas and Sam had made this their ritual: close the place down on leg night when the squat racks weren’t hogged by freshmen who didn’t re-rack their weights.
Lucas was already warmed up, black stringer tank soaked through at the chest, veins standing out on his forearms as he loaded another plate onto the barbell. He caught his reflection in the mirror; dark hair damp and messy, mustache with beard framing a jaw set tight with focus. Or frustration. Mostly frustration. He hadn’t hooked up in almost two months. Between classes, lifting, and trying to keep his GPA up, dating apps had taken a backseat. Every swipe right felt like a chore, every date a waste of a night he could’ve spent in the gym. His balls felt heavy, his skin too tight, and the constant low thrum of testosterone wasn’t helping his mood. Sam strolled in five minutes late as usual, black cap backward, earbuds in, wearing a pair of those slate-gray compression shorts that might as well have been painted on. The fabric clung to every curve of his lower body like it was custom molded. And Jesus Christ, that ass. Lucas’s eyes betrayed him the second Sam turned to drop his gym bag. Two thick, perfectly rounded globes strained against the material; high, full, and so prominently bubbled that the shorts rode up just enough to show the undercurve where glute met hamstring. Every step made them flex and shift, the kind of muscle that didn’t just sit there, it moved powerful and smooth. The seam of the shorts disappeared between the cheeks, swallowed by the sheer mass of them. Lucas could clearly see the outline of Sam’s jock strap underneath perfectly framing the massive bubble butt. He forced himself to look away, rolling his shoulders and stepping under the bar. But the image was burned in. Wrong. So fucking wrong. That was his little brother.
“Spot me?” Sam asked, voice casual, already sliding under the loaded bar for warm-ups. Lucas grunted an affirmative and moved behind him. Unracking the weight, Sam took two steps back and lowered into the squat. The compression shorts stretched obscenely tight as his ass spread and ballooned outward on the ascent. Two firm mounds pushing against the fabric so hard Lucas could see the dimples where the muscle inserted into the hamstrings. Up and down, controlled and deep, Sam’s ass flexing and relaxing in a hypnotic rhythm. Lucas’ mouth went dry. His dick twitched in his own shorts, sporting a semi before he could stop it. Heat flooded his face; guilt, shame, and raw lust all tangled together. This was Sam, my bro who I’d sneak out at midnight and bike to the lake together with. Not… not this.” But the more he tried to push the thoughts away, the louder they got. He imagined grabbing those hips, spreading those cheeks, and kneading that thick muscle like dough. Imagined Sam looking back over his shoulder with that cocky little smirk, daring him to do it.
Another set. Sam re-racked the bar with a clang and turned around, flushed and grinning. “Your turn, big bro. Try not to get stapled.” Lucas laughed it off, but it came out rough. He loaded more plates, more than he needed, just to punish himself then got under the bar. The weight felt good, grounding. He blasted through eight reps, staring hard at his own reflection, trying to drown the thoughts. Sam spotted him, hands hovering under the bar, close enough that Lucas could smell his sweat and the faint cedar of his body wash. after re-racking moving to unload the plates their bodies brushed for half a second, chest to chest. Then again, this time Sam’s glutes grazing the front of Lucas’ shorts. The contact was electric. Lucas’ cock surged fully hard in an instant, trapped painfully against his thigh. Sam didn’t seem to notice, already heading to the next exercise like nothing happened. They moved to hack squats, then leg press, then hip thrusts which was Sam’s favorite. Watching him load plate after plate and pump out reps face-down on the bench was pure torture. Every thrust upward made the thick cakes explode outward, round and hard and perfect, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the deep cleft between the cheeks or the way they bounced slightly at the top of each rep. Lucas had to turn away, pretending to check his phone. His heart was hammering. His palms were sweating. The guilt was there, sharp and sickening, but underneath it something darker had taken root. Want. Need. A plan forming whether he wanted it to or not.
They finished with some light hamstring curls, both drenched and breathing hard. Sam peeled off his cap and ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, laughing about something dumb one of their friends posted online. Normal. Easy. Brother stuff. But Lucas wasn’t laughing inside. As they grabbed their bags and headed for the exit, the cool night air hitting their flushed skin, Lucas made the decision that tonight when they got home he was done pretending he didn’t want this. He was going to make a move on his little brother.
Chapter 3: Crossing the Line
*incest, brothers, straight porn / gay sex*
The apartment was dark except for the glow of the big TV and the faint orange streetlight leaking through the blinds. They’d showered after the gym, thrown on loose basketball shorts and nothing else, and cracked open a six-pack while scrolling for something to watch. An old habit ever since they were teenagers sneaking their dad’s laptop, “movie night” had always been code for getting drunk and jerking off together. No touching, no talking about it the next day, just two brothers blowing off steam.
Lucas picked the video tonight knowing exactly what he wanted Sam to see. The scene opened to a bottle-blonde bimbo with comically huge fake tits on her knees in the middle of six ripped guys. Within minutes she was stuffed in way she could pleasure cock: one dick slamming her shaved pussy, another stretching her throat until mascara ran down her cheeks, two thick dicks forcing their way into her ass at the same time, spreading her impossibly wide while she jerked two others with both hands. The camera zoomed in mercilessly on the double-anal, showing every vein, every pulse, every brutal thrust that made her cheeks ripple and bounce.
Lucas’ cock was already throbbing in his fist, leaking pre-cum down the shaft as he stole glances at Sam. His little brother was slouched back on the couch, legs spread wide, slowly stroking with thick cock. Much bigger than their teen years when they first started doing this sort of thing together. But Lucas wasn’t after Sam’s dick tonight, he wanted that ass. The way the couch cushion sank under the weight of those two overdeveloped globes, round and firm even when relaxed, the deep crease between them just visible where his shorts had ridden up.
On screen, the girl screamed around the cock in her mouth as both guys in her ass started thrusting in alternating rhythm, her hole gaping obscenely each time they pulled back.
Lucas took a long pull from his beer, set it down, and shifted closer so casual it could almost be accidental. Their bare thighs touched yet Sam didn’t move away. Lucas’ heart hammered so hard in his chest he was sure Sam could hear it. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Sam’s ear, voice low and rough. “Your fat ass is better than hers.”
Sam froze, hand still wrapped around his cock. His breath hitched. “Dude… what the fuck?” But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t stand up. Didn’t punch him. Just sat there, flushed from alcohol and arousal, eyes locked on the screen where the girl was now getting absolutely destroyed. Lucas didn’t give him time to think. He slid off the couch, knelt between Sam’s spread legs, and yanked those shorts down in one motion. Sam’s massive bubble butt came into view, two perfect, smooth mounds, pale and flawless, with that deep cleft begging to be split open. Lucas grabbed a cheek in each hand, spread them wide, and groaned at the sight of Sam’s tight, pink hole. Sam's virgin asshole was a perfect, untouched treasure, tight and puckered. It clenched instinctively under Lucas's gaze, those tiny, velvety ridges contracting in nervous flutters, completely hairless and smooth, glistening faintly with a sheen of nervous sweat. “Lucas...” Sam started, voice shaky, but the protest died the second Lucas dove in. He licked a long, wet stripe from Sam’s balls all the way up to his tailbone, then swirled his tongue around that puckered ring. Sam jolted like he’d been shocked, a choked moan ripping out of him. Lucas didn’t stop, spearing his tongue inside, fucking his little brother’s hole with it, tasting the fragrant jock hole. Sam’s reluctance melted fast; his thighs started trembling, then spreading wider on their own, pushing that fat ass back against Lucas’ face. “Fuck… oh fuck,” Sam whimpered, head falling back against the couch. Lucas ate him like a starving man, sucking and biting the fleshy cheeks, shoving his tongue as deep as it would go until Sam was panting and grinding shamelessly. All the while his forgotten dick leaked over his abs.
When Lucas finally pulled back, his beard was soaked with spit, lips shiny. He stood, shoved his shorts down, and fisted his thick, veiny, angry red dripping cock. “Turn around,” he ordered, voice gravel. Sam obeyed without a word, scrambling onto his knees on the couch, forehead pressed to the backrest, presenting that glorious ass like he’d been waiting for this his whole life. The cheeks spread just from the position, hole twitching and slick from Lucas’ tongue. In one long relentless thrust, Lucas buried every inch into his little brother’s virgin-tight asshole. Sam cried out, back arching, knuckles white as he gripped the couch. Lucas didn’t pause, but rather grabbed his brother’s narrow hips and started pounding. Watching in the TV’s flickering light as his cock disappeared again and again between the two most perfect globes he’d ever seen Lucas admired the sight. The porn still played but neither of them were watching anymore.
Sam was moaning like a slut, pushing back to meet every thrust, his huge ass rippling with each impact. Lucas reached around and jerked him in time with his hips, feeling Sam’s cock throb and drool pre-cum over his fingers. “Gonna fucking breed you,” Lucas growled, slamming deeper, balls slapping against Sam’s. “Been wanting this ass for months.” Sam just whined, high and desperate, and clenched hard around the assault of his big brother’s cock. Lucas buried himself to the root and came with a guttural roar. Rope after thick rope of hot cum flooded his little brother’s guts, so much so it leaked out around his shaft and dripped down Sam’s balls. Sam followed seconds later, cock untouched, shooting all over the couch cushions with a broken cry. They stayed locked together, panting, Lucas’ cock still pulsing deep inside that perfect, no longer virgin hole. After a minute he leaned over Sam’s back, pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, and whispered, “I told you your ass was better.”
Chapter 4: No Going Back
*incest, brothers, spanking, breeding, emotional aftercare*
The apartment was dead quiet as credits rolled. Lucas pulled out slowly, watching his cum trickle from Sam’s swollen hole and onto the couch. Sam stayed bent over for a second, breathing hard, then tugged his shorts up without a word. Lucas did the same. They grabbed their empty beer cans, avoided eye contact, and muttered something about being wiped out.
“Night, bro,” Lucas said, voice casual, like he hadn’t just bred his little brother raw.
“Yeah… night,” Sam answered, already halfway down the hall.
Doors shut. Lights off. End of discussion. Lucas face-planted into his pillow and was out in thirty seconds, a lazy, satisfied grin on his face. He’d done it. Claimed that perfect ass. Owned it. Sleep came easy. Sam didn’t sleep easy however. He lay on his back in the dark, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slow circles. His hole still throbbed, tender and wet, a constant reminder of what just transpired. He just spread his legs for his own brother. Let another dude inside him. And the worst part, the part that made his chest tight and his dick twitch again, was how fucking good it felt. How right it felt. How he was already aching to feel full again. He rolled over, shoved his face into the pillow, and tried to hate himself ..unsuccessfully.
Friday came and went like they were strangers sharing a lease. Lucas had early classes and lifting; Sam slept in and disappeared to campus until late. Texts were short. No eye contact in the kitchen when they finally crossed paths grabbing dinner. But by 9pm they were both back in the apartment, gym bags dropped by the door, tension thick enough to taste. Lucas broke first. He walked into the living room where Sam sat scrolling on his phone, still in his hoodie and those same gray compression shorts that started everything.
“Get over here,” Lucas said, voice low, no room for argument. Sam’s eyes flicked up. For half a second it looked like he might pretend he didn’t hear. Then he tossed the phone aside and stood. Lucas grabbed him by the front of the hoodie and yanked him close, mouths crashing together hard. No warm-up, no porn, no excuses. Just teeth and tongue and Sam already whimpering into it. “Been thinking about this cunt all day,” Lucas growled against his lips, shoving a hand down the back of Sam’s shorts and sinking two fingers straight into the still-slick hole.
Sam jolted, moaned loud, legs spreading on instinct. “Fuck… Lucas…”
“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name while I finger-fuck your greedy little cunt.” Lucas twisted his fingers, scissoring roughly, stretching him open. “You took my load last night and you’ve been walking around all day with my cum drying in your ass like a good slut.”
Sam’s knees buckled. He grabbed Lucas’s shoulders just to stay upright, forehead dropping to his brother’s chest. “I… I couldn’t stop thinking about it either.” Lucas pulled his fingers free, spun Sam around, and bent him over the arm of the couch; face down, ass up, shorts peeled to mid-thigh. That fat bubble butt was already flushed pink, cheeks parting naturally to show off the puffy, wet rim.
“Look at this hungry fucking hole,” Lucas said, spitting on it and watching it clench. “Beg for it.”
Sam’s voice cracked. “Please, Lucas… fuck me. I need it so bad.”
“Need what?”
“Your cock. Need you in my cunt… please…”
Lucas slammed home in one brutal thrust, bottoming out with a grunt. Sam screamed into the cushion, back bowing, toes curling against the floor. Lucas didn’t ease up, grabbing Sam thick ass cheeks hard enough to bruise and started pounding like he wanted to break him in half. Every thrust punched the air out of Sam’s lungs. The couch creaked and scooted across the floor with the force.
“Whose cunt is this?” Lucas snarled, slapping one thick cheek hard enough to leave a handprint.
“Yours!” Sam sobbed, pushing back desperately. “It’s your cunt…..fuck….harder, please, wreck me.”
Lucas wrapped an arm around Sam’s throat from behind, pulling him upright so his back was flush to Lucas’ chest, cock buried impossibly deep. He bit down on Sam’s shoulder and snarled into his ear. “Gonna ruin this pussy so bad you’ll feel me for days. Every time you sit down tomorrow you’re gonna remember who owns this big fucking ass.”
Sam was now babbling broken filthy pleas. “Yes, yes, own it, breed me, don’t stop.” His cock was trapped between his stomach and the couch arm, leaking steadily, untouched.
Lucas shoved him back down, gripped the base of Sam’s neck, and went feral. Hips snapping so hard and fast the sound of skin slapping skin filled the entire apartment. Sam’s glutes rippled with every impact, turning red from the abuse.
“I’m gonna cum,” Sam choked out, voice wrecked.
“Do it,” Lucas ordered. “Milk my dick with that sloppy cunt. Come on.”
Sam’s whole body seized. He came hands-free with a strangled cry, shooting thick ropes across the couch and the floor, ass clenching rhythmically around Lucas’s cock. That sent Lucas over the edge. He roared, slamming in to the root, and unloaded hot pulses of jizz flooding Sam’s guts again. When it was over they collapsed sideways onto the couch, still connected. Lucas’ arms locked tight around Sam’s chest, who was trembling, sweaty, and utterly spent.
Lucas pressed soft kisses along the back of his neck, voice gentle now. “You okay?”
Sam nodded, turning just enough to find Lucas’s mouth. They kissed slow and deep, tasting salt and each other. Neither said the big words yet. They didn’t need to. Both men stumbled to Lucas’ bed and crawled under the covers still half-naked. Sam curled into his brother’s chest, one thick thigh thrown over Lucas’ hip, while Lucas’ arms wrapped possessively around him. For the first time all day, everything felt quiet. They fell asleep tangled together, breathing in sync, the line they’d crossed now miles behind them.
Chapter 5: Good Morning, Little Bro
incest, brothers, ass-to-mouth, gaping, scent kink
Sam woke slowly, warm and heavy-limbed, the room still dim with early gray light. Lucas was spooned up behind him, one thick arm locked across Sam’s chest, morning wood pressed hard against the small of his back. For a moment Sam just breathed, hyper-aware of the dull ache deep in his hole; sore, used, perfect. Then Lucas shifted. Two thick fingers slid down the cleft of Sam’s ass and pushed inside without warning. Sam gasped, eyes snapping open. The fingers sank in easy, too easy, gliding through the messy remnants of last night’s loads. Cum had leaked out while they slept, warm and sticky, now coating Lucas’ knuckles as he lazily fucked in and out.
“Morning, baby bro,” Lucas murmured against the back of Sam’s neck, voice rough with sleep. He curled his fingers, massaging the swollen, tender walls of Sam’s rectum, pressing against the puffy ring from inside until Sam whimpered and pushed back for more. It felt obscene and incredible at the same time. Sam could feel how loose he was already, how the cum squelched softly around Lucas’ fingers, how every stroke lit up raw nerves that still hadn’t recovered from the night before. Lucas added a third finger, scissoring slowly. Sam’s hole gaped a little each time he pulled back, presenting a puffy pink rim flushed dark, glistening with cum and spit, fluttering like it couldn’t decide whether to close or beg for more. The scent hit them both; warm skin, dried cum, and that unmistakable earthy musk of morning ass. Lucas groaned and buried his face in Sam’s neck, inhaling deep like it was the best thing he’d ever smelled. “Fuck, your hole smells so good used,” he muttered, pumping his fingers faster. “Smells like my cum, like my dick wrecked you.” Sam’s cock was leaking against the sheets, hips rolling back on instinct. Lucas pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and brought them up, slick and shining, to Sam’s mouth. “Open up. Enjoy your breakfast, little bro.” Sam hesitated, nose wrinkling at the sharp, bready scent of cum and ass slime presented before him. Lucas just waited, patient and insistent, tracing those messy fingers across Sam’s lips. Eventually Sam relented parting his full lips and the grimy fingers slide in. He sucked them clean while Lucas watched with dark, hungry eyes. “Good boy,” Lucas praised, voice thick.
Lucas kissed Sam slow and filthy, tasting himself on his brother’s tongue, then rolled him onto his stomach. He spent the next twenty minutes obsessed with the hole. Four fingers now, tucked tight together, twisting in past the second knuckle while Sam moaned into the pillow. Lucas couldn’t stop admiring how the puffy lips clung wetly every time he pulled back and how Sam’s massive glutes trembled and flexed, trying to take more. He spread Sam’s cheeks open with his free hand just to watch the gape: a dark, creamy tunnel still leaking yesterday’s loads, ring fluttering helplessly. “God, look at this pretty cunt,” Lucas whispered, almost reverent. “So fucking swollen and soft. I’m gonna live in this ass.” He folded his thumb in, pressed forward with his whole hand in a cone; slow, relentless. Sam whined, pushing back, legs shaking as the widest part of Lucas’ hand assaulted his rim. The hole stretched impossibly, turning thin and shiny at the edges, but it resisted. Just shy of taking the whole fist.
“Fuck,” Sam gasped, frustrated and desperate. “Almost… come on…”
Lucas tried again, gentle but firm, rotating his wrist. The rim bloomed open a fraction more, then clenched hard in protest. They both groaned at the same time, half pain, half pure aching want. “Too tight still,” Lucas said, voice wrecked with disappointment. He eased off, sliding back to four fingers and crooking them hard against Sam’s prostate until Sam was shooting all over the sheets again, hole spasming uselessly around the intrusion. They collapsed side by side, panting, Lucas licking a stripe up Sam’s sweaty neck. “Soon,” he promised against Sam’s ear. “Gonna get my whole hand in there one day. Gonna fist this perfect ass whenever I want.” Sam just nodded, boneless and blissed out, already craving it.
The rest of the week blurred into a haze of routine and raw need. Classes in the morning, gym in the afternoon; squats and hip thrusts that left Sam’s glutes pumped so hard Lucas couldn’t keep his hands off them in the locker room showers. Thursday night they hit a frat party, took two shots each, then ditched early so Lucas could bend Sam over the bathroom sink fucking him while music thumped through the walls. Friday they skipped the gym entirely and spent four hours in bed, Lucas eating Sam’s ass until he cried, then breeding him twice before they even thought about food. Every night ended the same: tangled together, cum drying on thighs and sheets, Lucas’ arm locked possessively around Sam’s waist.
They weren’t pretending anymore. They weren’t even questioning it. They were addicted.
Chapter 6: Deeper
*incest, brothers, fisting, punch fisting, prolapse play, piss (involuntary), extreme stretching, gooning, loss of control*
It happened gradually, then all at once. Sam stopped training anything but glutes. Leg day became glute day, every day. Hip thrusts until his ass was so pumped he could barely walk, banded side-walks, glute bridges with the barbell digging into his hips. He’d come home from the gym, peel off his shorts, and the thing between his legs looked obscene: two swollen spheres so round and heavy they forced his thighs apart when he sat. He quit touching his dick entirely. When he needed to cum, he’d disappear into his room and ride one of the suction-cup dildos he’d ordered (thick, veiny monsters that left him gaping and cross-eyed). Evenings on the couch became a new kind of normal: Lucas with a beer, some random show droning in the background, Sam sprawled across his lap with three fingers buried in his hole, lazily pumping while they pretended to watch TV. The wet sounds were impossible to ignore. The smell of sweat, lube, and ass hung in the air like incense.
Lucas watched it all with a knot in his stomach that was half worry, half pure lust. Was this his fault? Had he broken something in Sam the first time he shoved his cock in raw and called it a cunt? Some nights he lay awake listening to the rhythmic slap of silicone against Sam’s headboard and wondered if he should stop, if they should talk, if he’d turned his little brother into… whatever this was. Then lock clockwork, Sam would crawl into his bed at 2am, hole already slick and open, whispering please stretch me more, and Lucas’ good intentions dissolved under the heat of that perfect, hungry ass.
Tonight was the night they’d both been circling for weeks. Sam was on his back in Lucas’s bed, knees pulled to his chest, a thick plug still seated inside him. Lucas worked it slowly, twist, pull, push… until the base popped free with a wet sloppy fart. Sam’s hole didn’t close. It stayed open, a dark, puffy ring glistening with lube, fluttering like it was breathing.
Lucas slicked his hand, wrist to fingertips, until it gleamed. “You sure?” he asked, voice rough.
Sam nodded hard, eyes glassy with determination. “Do it. I need it.”
Lucas pressed four fingers in first, easy. Then folded his thumb, making a cone, and pushed. Sam’s breath hitched. A sharp burn flared as the widest part of Lucas’ hand met resistance… then gave. The rim stretched thin, pale, almost translucent, Tightly gripping his knuckles until ‘pop’ his whole hand sank inside to the wrist. Sam cried out, back arching off the bed. Pain and pleasure slammed together so hard his vision whited out. It hurt! God it hurt, like being split open, like his body wasn’t built for this, but underneath the burn was a deep, rolling pressure that made his toes curl and his untouched cock leak steadily onto his stomach. Lucas froze, letting him adjust. Inside, Sam’s guts were hot and slick and alive, clenching around his wrist.
“Breathe, baby,” Lucas murmured, twisting gently. “You’re taking my fist like you were made for it.”
Sam whimpered, nodded, rocked his hips the tiniest bit. The movement sent sparks up his spine. Lucas started slow small rotations, gentle in-and-out until his wrist was sliding freely. Then deeper. He tucked his fingers and punched forward, a short, sharp thrust that buried him past the wrist, knuckles grinding against Sam’s prostate. Sam screamed, a broken, desperate sound. His cock jerked hard and a hot stream of piss sprayed out of him, splashing across his own chest, Lucas’ arm, and soaking the sheets. Neither of them cared.
Sam just grabbed his knees tighter and begged, voice wrecked. “Again—fuck—do it again—”
Lucas lost it. He started punching Sam’s ass in earnest; short, brutal jabs that made wet, obscene sounds, his fist popping in and out past the second knuckle, then deeper, stretching that ruined ring wider with every thrust. Sam’s hole turned a raw, angry red, gaping wider each time Lucas pulled back. Sam was sobbing, shaking, cumming in dry spasms that milked Lucas’ arm, piss still dribbling weakly from his cock. When Lucas finally eased his hand free, the hole refused to wink shut. It stayed open, three fingers wide maybe four, a dark pulsing void ringed by swollen, wrecked flesh. Cum and lube oozed out in a slow trickle. Lucas sat back on his heels, jerking his cock in a daze, eyes locked on the destruction he’d made. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice reverent. “Look at that wrecked cunt. Used to be so tight… now it’s just a fucking hole.” He jerked faster, breath hitching, and blew thick ropes painting Sam’s gaping ass, dripping down into the black pit that used to be his little brother’s virgin hole.
Sam reached down with trembling fingers, spread himself wider, and smiled through the tears. “Yours,” he rasped. “All yours.”
