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Correcting the Line

Unlikely love shall meet unlikely solutions

The weather was clear, and the evening breeze almost welcomed us into the bedroom. It brushed the green skins, evaporated away the remnants of a former bath… And yet, it couldn’t chase away the scent of sex and semen hanging in the air, much less the aroma and fragrance of Orc bodies. Perfumed waters couldn’t do much, so the wind itself couldn't do so.

It bothered no one. Not as Agrash’s lips stroked the offered neck, depositing a gentle kiss upon it. The tusk scraped the skin, eliciting a chuckle. But then, as the faces met, similar and yet different, the lips pressed against the lips, the tusks almost clinging.

A kiss. Not forceful, but loving until they peeled from one another and a string of saliva joined their mouths.

Agran sighed in return, passing his hands behind his head, enjoying the softness of the pillows surrounding him as well as the warm sheets… And his Brother’s body pressed against his.

A cuddle, a stroke, and a soft hand, uncallused, danced upon Agran’s hairy belly and chest.

A sigh. And… Another.

“You have something on your mind, Agran,” whispered Agrash. His voice was softer, too, one belonging to a scholar who’d been taught the voice of the advisor.

“It’s nothing,” sighed Agran, glancing at the purple canopy above: no light, but the moon.

“If it is nothing, then you can tell me. Such a trifle is no problem to reveal?”

“You and your sweet words.”

Agran reached for his brother, pushing his head against his chest. Practically an inch away from his nipple, though, Agrash’s lips deposited a kiss on the pectoral.

Another sight. The chest lifted and dropped, the eyes closing while for a moment, there was but that long breathing. The breeze pushed against the curtains and the canopy, lifting them both before they flapped and dropped. Not even a cough from the Guards standing at the door.

“Father wants me to take a wife,” said Agran, finally giving in.

“Again? You told him you had too much to do to court someone. You are still learning the treasury,” replied Agrash, one hand reaching for his Brother’s beard, stroking it.

And Agran grabbed the hand, kissing its back… Then the palm before rubbing it against his cheeks: “He told me he would defer those tasks to the advisors until I am married. He is angry.”

A silence, with Agrash keeping his mouth focused on kissing his Brother’s chest.

“He is angry to hear the rumors about us. Every time it's raised in a diner, he sees red. He almost decapitated a noble for this. So he now wants to crush those rumors, one way or another. He wants us separated.”

“This is cruel,” replied Agrash, his fingers circling Agran’s nipples. “No one can understand me as you do. Someone else might not understand us.”

“No.” Nodded Agran. “We are alone in this. And I fear if I am forced to court someone, you will be sent away for your education until I have a child.”

“This is not what I want. He knows it.”

“But he doesn’t care. He only cares about our reputation,” said Agran, his voice soft. “But please. Let this subject die. I will do my best.”

A kiss on the forehead, a caress. Agrash almost melted when Agran’s lips kissed his forehead, inciting him to sleep. Yet, there was… That idea.

The Kingdom’s rules had always been the same as before the Bloody-tusks line overtook the Kingdom through conquest and diplomacy: to reign, someone had to be bonded and have a child. Whether it was currently expected or born, the matter cared little.

Such a thought, a worry, that would remain in every diner. Every conversation. Every royal discussion on petty matters until the matter was closed, and the lineage assured.

A rule… As simple as water flowing down the mountain or fire devouring the wood.

“And there is no other option?” asked Agrash, reaching for another treaty on illusion.

The royal library had always been his comfort away from Agran. Not even the King, their father, dared to barge in to bother Agrash if he was there studying.

“No. Not at all,” replied the royal Librarian and court mage at his time. The gray Orc certainly had that sorry look of someone who’d spent years in grief. “As much as I want you happy, my prince… The rules cannot change. There had been no exception in our history.”

Agrash ran his index finger over the many pages, surrounded by all the dusty tomes he’d read… Illusion to pass as a woman, teleportation to sneak into Agran’s bedroom. There were many options, but none were suitable for the younger Orc, as he sighed.

“Everything would be simpler if my brother were…”

“Were?”

“Did we have a tome on old Orc rituals from before the conquest?”

After days of searching and an almost despondent attitude, Agrash grinned. No, he smiled as he received the book from the Librarian.

Its content was highly complex, and it would require more than a mere gesture of the hand. However, sacrifices… Agrash was ready to spend much, even to waste parts of his allowance on many trinkets and gifts in the low-town.

Many would raise an eyebrow at the frolicking prince wasting the Kingdom’s gold on lace, perfumes, and even imported powders from the Eastern Lands.

Many more would question his sanity as the doldrums turned into a manic episode with Agrash running from one task to another.

Right to that very night. To that day, as he stood in Agran’s bedroom, waiting for his brother to return, a circle was drawn on the floor. His feet kicking, his smile complete, Agrash even licked his lips as he saw the door open and a hunching shape sneak inside.

Agran was… massive. Even compared to an Orc, Agrash’s brother was a true stud. His shoulders were square. He was easily one head taller than Agrash, and his chiseled body, by training, was covered with tufty hair. Hair that ran down to his groin in a happy trail that was certainly contrasting with the bright green skin.

Similarly to that green cock that swayed with his steps, or his testicles that were definitely… Low-hanging and fuzzy.

“I received your message, and I’m here. You want to… Do this before you have to leave?” asked Agran, certainly a bit bothered but grinning so wholly it melted Agrash’s worries.

“Oh. I planned for more than that,” said Agrash, patting the bed and what was on it. Lingerie, laced purple bras and panties. Not only that, he also bought a pair of fishnet leggings… And the powder alongside the carmine paint to cover the lips.

An assortment you could find in many brothels, but certainly not in a Prince’s bedroom.

“What… is this?” asked Agran, bee-lining to the bed and lifting one of those fishnets… Then the bras before he frowned. “Are those gifts?”

“Not at all,” said Agrash, jumping to his feet and stepping behind his baffled Brother. A touch, a caress, and Agrash had his fingers going on Agran’s chest, lifting it. “How do you like them?”

“Like… Them?” asked Agran, coughing. “Be serious, Agrash. This will be our last night together before long.”

“And I intend to make the most of it,” replied Agrash, flicking his Brother’s nipple. “Put them on. You must know how to do that.”

There, Agrash stepped away with that smile as he approached the circle he’d drawn, the ink he’d recovered from the Librarian’s study… And the tome on rituals he waved while looking at his muscular and yet baffled Brother.

“You… You knew? When did you know?” asked Agran, scoffing as he lifted the panties.

“When? I always knew, Brother. The time you raided our Mother’s wardrobe, I watched. But I knew if I raised the question, it would hurt you. You still want to appear as the stronger and masculine brother, despite your desires,” said Agrash with a smile.

“But… What changed? This? That I will have to court someone?”

“No. This,” replied Agrash, pointing to the book. “There was an old Ritual in our tribe before the conquest. It allows an Orc to… Impregnate another male for a price.”

“What would it be?”

“You have it in your hand. Wear it,” said Agrash, pointing at the panties.

Panties Agran eyed before… He dropped every other article to fit them. Luckily enough, after so many times together, Agrash could perfectly remember his brother’s size. And though the panties were forming a firm bulge by crushing Agran’s genitals… It didn’t chafe the skin. Neither were the bras nor the fishnets, though the bras were loose on the upper side.

“How did you procure those… Clothes?”

“I bought them with my allowance,” explained Agrash with a smile. One that was growing as he was watching his stud of a Brother, naked, slowly cover his skin with that purple fabric that almost looked delicate.

Steadily, Agran looked less like a prince and more like a prized concubine, down to the powdered cheeks and the lipstick he applied to his lips without any trouble. He even smacked his lips together in a movement that sounded perfectly calculated before he turned to Agrash.

“How? Do I look?” Agran finally asked, certainly acting less roughly. No, he almost acted demure as he stepped forward, stepping into the drawn circle while holding his arms. Shame was wrought on his face… As well as desire.

“Beautiful. You’d make a better Queen than a King,” said Agrash, certainly fighting his erection as he approached, his hand stroking his Brother’s hairy body, going over that belly, those pectorals, the collarbone, down to the cheeks… And the lips he brushed with his thumb.

Then… There was the skin, with the mix of carmine and beeswax, leaving a mark on Agrash’s lips and tusks.

A mark the lankier Brother wiped with his thumb before he admired the color.

“That would certainly look much better on my cock, Agran,” said Agrash, his voice suave and yet forceful. And Agran? Oh. He blushed, his face going darker.

“You are terrible…. Is this true? About that ritual?”

“I wouldn’t have wasted my allowance on that,” replied Agrash, matter-of-factly, before he deposited the open book on the floor, right on a page presenting an eerie symbol, before he brought the ink… And a brush. “This might be our last resort. But if I can’t have you as a King, I will have you as my Queen.”

The remark left Agran’s blush worse, with him coughing and tiptoeing while Agrash dipped the brush and… Left a stroke across Agran’s body.

Sure enough, the hulking and large Orc laughed from the tickling sensation, but he stopped once he noticed Agrash’s glare.

Then, the brush danced. The ink, magical by nature, began to glow an eerie pink while a shape appeared. It was not something you’d see in common literature. It was primal, tribal, akin to raw, unshaped magic. But it was clear by the tubes, the uterus, or the cervix… That it was a womb. A womb tattoo.

Though only Agrash could admire the work as he smiled, adding the details to the ovaries… Or finishing the touch on the stylized egg inside the uterus.

“It- It tickles,” said Agran, biting his lips.

“Sure, it tickles,” replied Agrash, licking his lips. “That’s the brush and the magic. Can you feel it?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then… Maybe to activate it, we need to do something else,” added Agrash, licking his thumb as he dropped the brush and inkpot.

It all crashed down, landing on their feet.

It mattered little for Agrash as he passed a hand over his Brother’s hips while walking around… And then planting himself behind Agran.

“What… Else?” asked the biggest Orc, his lips bitten, and his eyes were eager.

“Well. Magic might work with intent,” replied Agrash, his hands digging into his Brother’s posterior, into that ass he stroked and caressed before… Pulling on the panties, pulling on Agran’s groin, while pushing the fabric aside enough to reveal that swampy posterior.

One finger in, and already Agran was trembling, quivering, and turning into clay under a mere index finger. All moans. All sighs. All gasps.

“And I need to make magic believe… You can be my Wife,” said Agrash, blowing Agran’s ear.

A shiver ran down Agran’s back, down to his thighs and feet. The massive Orc barely resisted the insult. With a glance, Agrash confirmed that his brother was hard. Definitely hard. So much so, it would be impossible to ignore that mast and that wet spot.

Spot that grew as Agrash inserted his finger deeper, mumbling a cantrip until he could sense the wetness, the lubrication, then the freshness of that orifice. Orifice, he stretched it with another finger.

“Be gentle.”

“There’s no need,” said Agrash, biting his Brother’s neck as he approached. His own erection was fighting against the fabric… And one night-robe open, Agrash was at the edge.

His shaft, smaller than his brother's, had not been left bereft of attention. Even if Agrash bottomed to indulge his brother, his cock was tended to. It was massive, large, and certainly befitting an Orc of Agrash’s standing.

Beyond that?

It perfectly fit within Agran’s asshole, perfectly pressed against the tense orifice. Perfectly forced the sphincter to open up. To have it spread… And then, for that mushroom-shaped tip to go inside without even a stop, a break, or resistance.

Sure enough, Agran gasped and looked around, then over his shoulder to check Agran.

“What… How?” he asked, certainly feeling how easy it was to take it.

In return, Agrash’s answer was to wrap his arms around Agran’s belly and take a short step… To press their bodies closer until Agran could feel his prostate being lovingly squeezed.

Another moan. Another gasp. Another sigh.

Agrash’s lips descended on Agran’s neck, delivering a rough kiss onto it before he licked the bruised skin. A mere mark, but one the one licked while his fingers went on Agran’s branded belly and his pectorals.

“A cantrip, Brother. And I want to use more than that,” said Agrash with a wave of his hand.

As soon as he did that, a glow followed his fingers until he had his digits stroking Agran’s nipples through the fabric.

Erect and enlarged, that first nipple was practically begging for attention.

And it got it as the fingers left, but the glow remained as a mage hand, now closing and pinching that needy nipple… Pulling on it without a care.

“A-Agrash!”

“I know you like it. I saw how you pulled on your nipples when you had the opportunity,” whispered Agrash, his hand drifting to the other nipple, deliberately deposing another mage hand… Another pair of fingers eagerly yanking and pulling on Agran’s nipples.

“I knew… You’d love it if I bought you that dress… Or made you squirm. Or…”

Agrash’s voice was lustful, desiring, and as both hands descended on Agran’s underwear, on the panties, they pulled them down. Down until Agran’s massive cock was rightfully there. Erect. Stiff. And dripping on the floorboards.

The musky aroma filled the room, but this time it was different. There was a sweeter aftertaste, something that tickled everyone’s nostrils as Agrash kissed his brother’s neck again… And grabbed the shaft by the base.

“Would you close your eyes for me?”

Agran gulped, but as he eyed his brother, he nodded and closed his eyes.

He closed them and opened his mouth, letting his ragged breath free as he could sigh, gasp, and moan. All those sounds then came as his Brother’s digits ran along the length, along the corona, the frenum, the veiny base, the bulging urethra.

Such a monster of flesh, a mast without any equal.

And… Agrash squeezed it, held onto it while he gave Agran a first thrust.

One but purposeful thrust that made Agran wince and his legs tense. Similarly, his fist clenched. And his voice… oh, it climbed one octave.

It was almost a hysterical cry as Agrash’s cock, so veiny and tempting, hit Agran’s prostate square. It smacked, struck, and hit it until the organ felt afire and needy. But not only that.

Under Agrash’s touch, Agran’s cock was itching and burning.

Even his nipples, constantly teased and pulled, were numb but for the touch his Brother unleashed onto them. A touch that was relentlessly digging into his flesh, making Agran the receiver of an assault.

Of a purposeful act of making him… Accept and submit.

Submit as the constant hammering felt like a crescendo of pleasure. It wasn’t stopping; it was only climbing further along his spine.

Soon enough, Agran’s lips curled.

His toes curled. His fingers twitched as they rushed to meet Agrash’s on his cock. And then… His groin began to ache, though the Orc fought it, biting his lips.

“Give in, Agran. You want it,” cooed Agrash, nibbling Agran’s pierced ear.

Agran’s mouth opened, an answer coming. Could he indulge in? Could he really give in?

A question he answered as he closed his eyes. His saliva was too much. He had too much to swallow, but he gulped it down, fighting against the reflexes that were throwing him off, against the constant rocking his Brother’s imposed through those regular thrusts, those regular hits on his prostate. And…

Agran moaned. His voice broke again.

His back straightened as he shot. His groin clenched and exploded into a fire of pleasure and delight. As he saw stars behind his eyelids, like a firework right in his brain. He was overwhelmed, overtaken, over… Over the worries that had plagued him.

His smile returned, his lips curling and his features relaxing.

The bite, the tugging, the yanking… Everything felt much better as Agran opened his eyes, feeling how his cock was feeling raw in Agrash’s grasp.

So… He looked down. Watching his Brother’s bulge through his belly, the muscles lessened. And… As he glanced down at the source of those many shots parting from him… His cock.

Smaller. Shorter. Stubbier.

Agran blinked at it, and yet, before he could voice his concern, he gasped.

Agrash had pulled out, and now, the smaller Orc was grabbing him by the shoulders, pressing on them.

Had he always been that strong? Agran couldn’t tell. But guided and forced, the muscular Orc went to squat. His nipples and chest were still tended to by the mage hands. But his cock was left alone for him to grab, to tug… And to feel it was definitely smaller as he waved it around.

He looked down… Only for his vision to be blocked by a mast, one the Orc had at his lips and was… Forced to kiss and lick.

“What?”

“The more you submit to me, Agran. The more I will take,” whispered Agrash, his hand stroking Agran’s head, beckoning him closer. “Soon enough, there will be nothing left of your pride, and you will be a happy mother. Does this sound good?”

Agrash's attitude was cocky, disturbingly so. And yet, as Agran felt that cock rub against his lips. His sole reaction was to open his mouth… And suck his Brother’s cock.

-

Agrash comfortably crossed his legs in the royal study.

Though there were only two at the moment, the Guards left outside, Agrash definitely acted like he was in control of the situation.

Something that elicited much frustration as the King, Agren, glared back at him.

The aging, bald, and bearded Orc felt as if another weight had been added to his shoulders. He huffed, waiting for something.

Agrash was not relenting. The chin raised, smug, Agren’s second-born had definitely changed. He’d grown his beard as Agran ought to have done so, as the heir.

He’d even stopped shaving his body, making himself look far more masculine in retrospect despite his lanky build. That and the fact that he wore the heir’s ring on his ring finger.

“Is that a joke? Another mockery you and Agran decided to play?”

Agrash smirked and passed a hand over his mouth before he leaned back, tapping the armrest.

“No. This is a truthful declaration. And you can’t ignore it.”

Agren clutched the armrest, watching the parchment at the center of the issue. It was a royal declaration, only missing Agren’s seal. Only a quick stamp and it’d be real: the declaration that Agrash would be the new crown prince while Agran would step down from the role.

“This is a mockery. Agrash. Rescind your words and undo what you have done to your Brother.”

“But, Father,” said Agrash, interlocking his fingers. “This is Agran’s desire, too.”

“He… What?”

“Yes. Why do you think he came to you with this missive first? He wouldn’t dare to humiliate the King more than necessary. This-“

“You are ruining everything I strove for!” shouted Agren.

“No. I made it so you couldn’t use Agrash as a pawn anymore. You can refuse, but… The child is already mine. The rules are the rules.”

“You…”

Agren clicked his tongue, watching the ink that had been purposefully placed. He grabbed his ring, his seal, and lifted it purposefully.

“Is this really what you plan to do? To use artifices to get what you want?”

“No. I plan to be more sensible with receptive people. You refused our relationship from the beginning. I had no other choice but to force your hand in a way you couldn’t deny… Please. Your seal.”

Agren’s temper flared. His nostrils dilated. Even his veins bulged as he planted the ring into the ink and then pressed it on the declaration, stamping it with his seal.

And… As the old Orc stood up, furious, he grabbed his crown and threw it at Agrash.

“Take your prize. You mongrel. And get lost, I do not want to see you again.”

“I will make sure you are living comfortably in the nicest and furthest villas near the coast, Father,” chuckled Agrash, wrapping up the parchment.

The door opened and was forcefully closed, followed by the clamor of steel and stomps. Even a tempestuous rant coming from the King.

Agrash was not bothered. Not at all, as he collected the crown and placed it atop his head.

He had to adjust it and perhaps set it a bit askew. But after some verification and Agrash adjusting it, he turned towards the opening door with a grin.

“How do I look?”

“Very kingly,” said Agran softly as he closed the door behind him. “How did it go?”

“As bad as you can imagine,” replied Agrash, adjusting the crown before pointing at the rolled-up parchment. “But he relented. And now… We are free to enjoy whatever we desire.”

Agrash didn’t have to state more. The way he licked his lips, his lustful eyes danced… or how his pants were tense told enough of a story.

“Here?”

“What better place to consume our love?” said Agrash, patting his lap.

Agran stopped for a second.

But he approached. Still clad in the blue of the Crown Prince, with the tight jacket and the tighter shirt beneath, the Orc still looked impressive. However, the folds revealed how many muscles he’d lost recently. Likewise, the unbuttoned belly showed his recent weight gain. And the pants? Oh, they were far too tight for his ample posterior and thighs.

As soon as Agran sat on his Brother’s lap, Agrash's fingers ran along the buttons, undoing them one by one.

“You wore it?” he asked, his voice suave.

And… Agran nodded.

Though the answer came as the shirt was undone, letting breathe free those pectorals that definitely looked heavier. Fatter. Saggier. And fitting one of those pairs of bras Agrash had bought.

The lace, an intense black, contrasted nicely with Agran’s glabrous green skin. A thumb passed over the breast, digging easily into the skin while the other fingers went underneath, propping up that breast and forcefully pushing it up… Almost making it slip out.

Meanwhile, Agran had the shirt entirely removed and thrown away before he reached for the bra behind him, unhooking it… And letting it fall.

They sagged. Much like his belly and ass nowadays. A recent change that certainly elicited a few frowns from those who saw the former Crown Prince in the bath. Others were getting more lecherous, too.

Much like Agrash as he leaned forward to collect a nipple: darker, wider, and far bigger than before. A teat, begging for attention.

One, it got as Agrash opened his mouth wide and swallowed it. His lips closed on it, the suction obvious as Agran moaned… And threw his head back.

Those breasts were heavy, heavier by the day. They’d gone from defined pecs to heavy moobs. And yet, they were fitting the Orc’s body.

They clung to him, improving the nascent curves the pregnancy had given him… Improved and underlined the taut belly, shaved, and the glowing pink mark on it.

Without a doubt, Agrash rubbed that belly. His fingers, growing calloused from the exercises, stroked the softened skin. They pressed against the flesh in a delicate massage as he drew circles on that belly, all around the womb tattoo.

And… Agran grunted. His voice broke, his lips closed tighter. His tusks dug into his lips while his pants were getting wet… And tight.

“My Queen loves it?” asked Agrash, his voice suave as he deposited a kiss on the swollen nipple, going for the second.

“Y-Yes. But I feel… Full,” mumbled Agran.

His voice quivering as the hands abandoned the belly to go onto the breasts. They dug into the flesh, rubbed it… Lifted it. And as the digits pressed, the pressure worsened. At the same time, that warmth eased Agran’s soreness.

“You are already full.”

“I… Am? Like… Milk?”

“Like milk. You will lactate soon. Though…”

Agrash's voice trailed as he offered Agran a cocky smile and then… Nibbled the offered nipple. He wasn’t outright biting. But as his teeth pressed and squeezed on Agran’s nipples, on the tender flesh that had grown sensitive… The former Crown Prince moaned.

He threw his head back, though he stroked his Brother’s scalp as the teeth dug and then…

That soreness, that weight, that pressure he’d felt inside his breast was gone.

Agran sighed, listening to the sound of suction. Of the gulping while his Brother drank and gorged himself from that sweet and creamy milk that was given abundantly.

“Ah. This is… good,” purred Agran, his fingers circling his Brother’s scalp.

Even the beard brushing the sensitive skin was something deviantly sensual for Agran as he could feel his groin heat up… And his prostate ache again.

Perhaps a side effect of the changes, but with that womb inside him… Any orgasm felt worse… And better for the Orc as he was sighing and gasping on his Brother’s lap, listening to the suction that wasn’t coming off. To the hungry lips that gorged themselves.

Finally…

“Ah!” almost shouted Agrash, wiping his milk-covered mouth, though some dripped over his beard. The Orc offered his Brother a toothy smile as he passed a hand over the other breast.

“Should I milk that one, too?” he asked, licking his lips.

Above, Agran grimaced. He frowned, bit his lip. Readjusted his posture enough that a cocked eyebrow was produced.

“Or… Maybe my new Queen is in heat?” asked Agrash, tilting his head and smacking Agran’s ass, only to squeeze it. Hard.

“I’m not in heat,” replied Agran, huffing.

“But I can smell it from here. Come on. Give me a show. A royal show.”

Agran blushed again.

Though he would rarely admit it, he was loving it. He was fitting more and more into that given role, and with a smack on his posterior, the former Crown Prince stood up.

With the remaining flexibility his body allowed, Agran kicked off his shoes. His hands, careful, went under his protruding belly to grab the belt and undo the buckle, which… Was the only thing keeping those pants up.

As soon as the belt opened, the pants dropped, revealing that plushy posterior and… The Orc’s dark panties, with the lace digging into his waist and thighs. His body had changed. Grown more feminine in curves, though his traits were undeniably masculine. Agran’s shoulders remained wide, his arms powerful. But the whole changes had made him appear far more comely to the eyes.

Enough for his ass to be perfectly shaped and snug inside those panties. Even as he hooked them and… Pulled them down along with his pants.

Agran grunted, huffed, and grimaced. But encouraged by Agrash’s applause, all clothes were off. No more pants, no more bras, no more panties.

Nothing that could hinder the sight of Agran’s reshaped body, of his ass darker from all the spanking he’d received.

And as he approached, Agran couldn’t deny his own erection. It was smaller than before, much smaller; it was only a third its original size, and that erection was pathetic compared to Agrash’s current pride.

“I love when you show me your clitty, Agran,” purred Agrash, reaching between Agran’s legs to flick the swollen and purplish tip. A flick, but enough to make it ‘squirt’ some watery fluid.

“Don’t call it that,” replied Agran, though blushing hard and dripping more.

“I can call my Queen’s clit how I want,” replied Agrash, twirling his index finger. “Cunt.”

An order. And through careful steps, Agran turned his back to Agrash. In a parody of branding, Agrash had even added his own brand onto Agran’s posterior. A few runes, nothing fancy. But enough for anyone reading Orcish to understand Agran belonged to his brother.

And rightfully so.

As Agran turned and presented his ass, there was no denying his asshole was but a cunt to be used, despite how much Agran could blush.

Despite the wide and comely buns, Agran’s asshole was prominent enough to be visible through. The rim itself was constantly swollen, and through the recent fucking and even fisting… Agran’s orifice now had a nice vertical split.

A split Agrash tested as he hooked a finger inside it and pulled without eliciting more than a gasp from Agran: no cry, no pain, no worries.

“I was wrong,” said Agrash, pulling his finger back, leaving that asshole aching and burning.

“About what?” asked Agran, looking over his shoulder.

His brother was now clutching his belt, undoing the buckle with a hastiness that was almost uncharacteristic… Right before he yanked his briefs down and fished his cock out.

His cock that was… Glistening. Covered with the remnant of saliva, covered with purple kiss marks that went from the swollen tip, smeared, to the base… And even all over Agrash’s testicles as they dangled at the seat’s edge.

A sight to behold. A sight that made Agran’s heart skip a beat as he watched that flesh that had pummeled his cunt and filled it again and again.

“The throne room would be much better,” started Agrash, chuckling at Agran’s puzzled expression. “There is no better place for you to take your seat, my Queen.”

Agran scoffed and grumbled. But his face burned, his lips were bitten. And… Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. Agrash took one step back, and another.

His Brother’s cock pressed against his rim, then slipped inside without a worry.

And soon, while guided by Agrash, Agran sat… And ended up entirely on his Brother’s lap, his guts again bulging from Agrash’s manhood.

It throbbed, it dripped… And soon it would pump more cum and children inside him.

“Here it is… A true throne for my Queen.”

And Agrash was right.