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Three Lovers for Three Brothers.

Timothy's Story.

There are three special men in my life. My boyfriend, Jack, and my two brothers.

I'm the oldest of my siblings. If you want to think that makes me the alpha, go ahead. But really, Peter and I don't compete at all. Being twins, we've always been a team. We're not identical twins, just fraternal. That makes it easier for us to be our own people. We've never had the issue of being confused for one another, or people assuming that we have exactly the same minds just because our fur has the same colour and pattern. But at the same time we understand why a lot of folks think of us as half of a whole.

As for Jack... well, I guess I'm the boss there. When you put a wolf with a husky, it's kind of obvious whose gonna come out on top. And I like it on top.

My brother, he's the odd one out. Not in a bad way. It's just that he's the runt of the litter, physically speaking. He's a couple of years younger than me and Pete. We're college seniors, he's just a freshman. But even considering that, he's a small guy. I guess we always saw him that way, so we took on the role of his protectors. We stayed tough and strong so that the bigger kids wouldn't pick on him, which meant Bradley didn't have to toughen up. He spent his time on his studies. He read books. Played video games. He's not a nerd. He's a really cool guy, and we're lucky to have him as a part of our family. But yeah... with the three of us in a line, he's the one you'd pick last for soccer, and first for a group assignment in class.

The last few months in particular though, it's become clear to me and Pete that our brother needs a helping hand with certain more physical aspects of his life. His love life, if you catch my meaning.

In a house with three teenage boys, its pretty inevitable that there's gonna be a fair amount of sex going on. Whether that sex is with someone else, or alone. I'm not embarrassed to admit that in the past, me and Pete jerked it together. We shared a bedroom, so when certain discoveries were made in our teenage years it was either learn patience, or just whip it out and do the deed regardless of whether our twin was around. And like most teenagers will tell you, patience is not a virtue for at least the first few years after discovering masturbation.

We taught Bradley about jerking off, too. We only showed him the once, after he caught Pete wringing one out in the shower, but our brother's a fast learner. Plenty of times we've heard that tell-tale whimper through our bedroom wall. That moan of release, loud and unrestrained. But lately, it's been different. Before, I guess Bradley got off about as often as we did. Once a day, less if he was busy. Now though, it's gotta be two or three times a night. Then there's the times during the day. My boyfriend's seen him sneaking off into the restroom at college with tented pants, and heard him moaning from inside a cubicle. And I know Pete's had to interrupt him at least a couple of times in order to keep our parents from catching him in the act in his room during the day.

Our little brother needs to get laid. We know he's a virgin. He hasn't told us that exactly, but we're close enough that if he wasn't any more, he'd have shared that secret in a heartbeat.

It's difficult, though. It's not like with me and Jack, or Peter and Francis. Bradley isn't as forward as we are. He's not just smaller and softer on the outside, but inside too. He's more sensitive.

We've tried to set him up a bunch of times. With friends of ours. Friends of friends. Friends of friends of friends. The problem is, our social circles are kinda different from Bradley's one. We hang out with... jeez, I'm gonna sound like such a tool here, but we hang out with the cool kids. The jocks. No, that sort of college stereotype you'd see in eighties and nineties TV shows isn't like reality in the slightest, but it's impossible to deny that cliques do exist, and like minded individuals do tend to cluster together socially. Yeah, a bunch of my friends have watched the Lord of the Rings movies. I have too, and I really like them. But far less of my friends have read the books. And I guess that's what Bradley is looking for in a guy. Someone who knows who the fuck Tom Bombadil is, and why we should give a shit what colour his boots are. More than just a quick and easy lay, no matter how much he might want it.

Of course, fate hasn't made it easy for Bradley. I guess in the last few days destiny decided it wanted to fuck with our little brother, and now I'm not sure how much more fucking he can handle.

It's the start of summer break. For me and Pete, that means we've got absolutely nothing to do but wait for our final exam results and find out just how close we've come to scraping our degrees. Bradley has some summer reading and stuff to do, but he can breeze through all that in a week, so he's been working on some strategies for this Yu-Gi-Oh card tournament that's happening tomorrow at the local game store. Basically, we've all been holed up at home. Our parents must have realised this was going to happen, because they took a well timed vacation. I don't think any of us minded, though. We love our folks, but we're quite capable of cooking and cleaning up after ourselves. And with the parents away... well, they never stopped us from having our boyfriends over. But now we don't have to justify their presence morning, noon and night... nor what we're doing spending so much time in our rooms. Again, morning, noon and night.

It was Wednesday morning when Bradley caught me and Jack. We were in the living room. We'd been cuddling on the couch after breakfast, watching some cartoons and laughing our asses off. I don't know exactly how that had led to my darling husky kneeling down in front of the couch, his face buried in my lap and his nose rubbing up against my crotch, but I sure as hell didn't complain at the time. The TV was still on, and I was still half watching it. Unless you've been there, you have no idea how weird it is to be watching a TV show while getting a blow-job. I had no idea what was going on, but at the same time I'd never been more excited to see what the hell Spongebob was up to in my life.

I was moaning my ass off. Jack had been going at it for almost ten minutes, and I was ready to blow. My hands were on his head, fingers rubbing at those perky black tipped ears of his. I could feel my hips lifting off the couch, the springs squeaking while I humped at Jack's hungry muzzle. God, it was hot.

Then I heard it. The yelp. The cry of shock and embarrassment.

I turned my head, and there he was. Bradley, standing in the living room doorway in nothing but his boxer shorts. He must have only just gotten up. Or more than likely, he'd been jerking off in his room and had just finished. That would explain why his stomach fur had been slightly matted, like he'd run a washcloth over it then given it a quick pass with a towel, while the rest of him was bone dry.

It might also have explained why he hadn't realised what was happening more quickly. They say an orgasm knocks forty points off a person's IQ as it's happening, and that it takes them at least half an hour to recover it all again.

He stood there, staring right at me and Jack as the husky kept on suckling and slurping at my dick. The dumb dog hadn't even noticed my brother was there. I guess he thought I had been the one crying out. I don't blame him, he gives a damn good blow-job.

I tried to stop Jack, really I did. Tried to tell him to wait, tried to push his head off my head. But I was too far gone, and when I tried to call out all I did was moan. When I tried to push his mouth away from my cock, all I managed to do was grip at his ears harder; something he no doubt took as a sign of encouragement.

So, the worst happened. Not the worst for me, I admit. It still felt pretty damn incredible even under the circumstances. But for Bradley, an absolutely mortifying moment.

Our eyes locked. My little brother staring right at me as I whimpered in delight, and began to pump my hot cum down my boyfriend's throat.

By the time I'd calmed down, and explained to Jack how much of a clueless doofus he was while the husky tried to convince me to take his place and return the favour, Bradley had bolted back out of the living room. I'd heard his feet pounding rapidly up the stairs, and his bedroom door slamming shut.

When I tried to talk to him, still naked as I stood outside his bedroom door, he wouldn't answer me properly. Just called out how sorry he was for disturbing me, and asking me to go away.

I still feel bad for him. It's so obvious that he wants someone to be with that way, and seeing that... seeing me and Jack enjoying ourselves so freely, must have been like a dagger to the gut. Not to mention a kick to the blue-balls. But it's not like we haven't tried. Me and Peter both want for our little brother to get a boyfriend, to get some ass of his own so badly. He just isn't making it easy for us, and life isn't making it any easier for him. Between what happened with me and Jack on Wednesday, and what he saw Pete and Francis doing yesterday... jeez, it's a wonder he's even willing to look us in the eye today.

We aren't giving up though. We won't ever give up on Bradley. Maybe tomorrow will give us a new chance. Maybe we'll find someone at the game store who's a bit more on our brother's wavelength. Someone who just needs a prod in the right direction to give Bradley the prodding he obviously needs.

I really hope so. Because right now, I think I hear Bradley moaning again from his room. Goddamn. It's only eleven thirty, and that's the fourth time today. If he doesn't get laid soon, he's gonna jerk his cock off.

***************

Peter's Story

There are three special men in my life. My twin brother Tim, our younger brother Bradley, and my partner, Francis.

Yeah, I'm a twin, but don't worry, you can tell us apart pretty easily. We're fraternal, not identical. Timothy has blue and white fur, and mine's a much lighter grey alongside the white. As for Bradley, he's the skinny white one with glasses. I guess the muscles come as a package with the two tone fur.

I adore my brothers, but arguably the most important man in my life isn't a wolf. He's a German Shepherd, and god do I love him. Francis and I have been together since he was a high school senior and I was a college freshman. I met him just a few months before he graduated. Believe it or not I was doing some tutoring for the upcoming exam season. I'm not exactly the smartest guy, but when you stick up an advert saying you're a college kid and you're only charging half the rates of most professional tutors, it's pretty easy to get away with reading out of a textbook and just telling the kids you're working for to sit their asses down and write out notes. Most of the time a little motivation is all they need.

Francis was different. Or at least, the kind of motivation he needed was different. I think he knew I was gay before I even opened my muzzle to say hello. He was all over me in our first session, insisting that we sat on the couch to study, snuggling up against me. By the time we'd gotten half way through chapter one, he'd unbuttoned my shirt and was kissing my chest.

We never made it to chapter two, even though he did manage to squeeze another nine tutoring sessions out of his parents before we started seeing one another outside of tutoring. I felt like he was paying me for sex, rather than studying. It made me feel kinda dirty, like I was a whore.

I kinda liked it.

That more or less describes our relationship. He's very much in charge even though he's younger, and while I'm by no means a submissive guy, I love to let him take control.

It's funny, thinking about it like that makes our relationship seem really kinky. Like some sort of dominant versus submissive, master and pet type thing. But it really isn't. We're friends. We're romantic and sappy. We love making each other laugh every bit as much as we love making each other cum. Perhaps even more so. But I guess it's hard to see all that from the outside, particularly if you've witnessed some of our more intense, heated moments.

Like Bradley did, just yesterday.

Poor kid. He's had a rough time lately. He's been pining for a mate of his own the only way a young guy can. Grabbing his cock and milking out every last orgasm he can handle. I can only imagine what I would have been like if I'd reached the end of my freshman year without having met Francis. Though I guess at the very least, if I'd never met Francis then Bradley wouldn't have walked in on us, so that would have been something positive.

I blame Tim, of course. Bradley walked in on him and Jack fooling around in the living room on Wednesday, so yesterday when him and Jack went downstairs for breakfast again, Bradley didn't dare venture off the top floor. He decided to take a bath; not something he does very often, only when he's super stressed out. He likes to soak, really lose himself in a sea of bubbles and hot water, for at least a couple of hours. Thankfully he's a thoughtful enough guy to ask first, rather than just taking over the bathroom for the entire morning.

He knocked on the bedroom door, and once me and Francis had assured him we intended on staying in bed together for several hours to come, vanished towards the bathroom with flushed cheeks. We both knew what he'd be doing in the tub for all that time, and it had very little to do with getting clean.

Still, we were glad he was trying to relax. And even more glad that we now knew for certain that Bradley wasn't in the room next door. It meant we didn't have to hold back. Didn't have to keep quiet for our own indulgent fun.

I honestly can't tell you how long Bradley stayed in the tub, at least not in terms of hours and minutes. My only clear memory of that morning is burying my face in a pillow, biting, growling and wailing in ecstasy as Francis ploughed me hard from behind. I swear, if we could the two of us would spend our whole lives knotted and doggy style. There's something about the feeling of his weight over my back and his knot splitting me open that's not just erotic, but immensely comforting and tender. Francis has told me that my ass gripping his cock makes him feel the same way, and that when he kisses my neck as he reaches underneath me, rubbing at my own thick knot, his heart still flutters like it did on our very first time.

Yesterday morning, he'd already cum inside me once, and was well on the way to doing so again. His cock was slick with his own cum, but his knot was so swollen and my ass so tight that all he could do was hump and grind against my rump. My sheets were stained with my own streaks of seed, damp with cum and pre-cum in almost equal quantities. I didn't care about the mess. Didn't care about the time. All I needed to know was that Francis was there with me, that he loved me, and that soon we were both going to cum once more.

We both heard the knock at the door, and both knew instantly who it was. Timothy wouldn't have knocked. He would have just walked in, seen what we were doing and carried on like it was nothing. Both Tim and I had long since agreed that we could both do whatever we wanted with our partners in that room, no need to ask permission or anything like that beforehand. As such, many a night had been spent with four of us contained in those four walls and two beds. Many a night racing each other and our lovers to orgasm. Admiring our twin's technique, and our respective partner's prowess. So no, it definitely wasn't Tim.

In fact, the delicate, nervous knock could only have belonged to one person.

The person who just yesterday had caught Timothy being sucked off by his boyfriend. The person who was perhaps most bashful out of anyone in our family, parents included, when it came to acknowledging mine and Tim's active love lives.

The last person we wanted to catch us in the act, but who we could not bring ourselves to stop for, so caught up were we in one another's ecstasy.

The bedroom door swung open, and though I didn't see him thanks to my face still being buried in my pillow, Francis assured me that Bradley saw everything of us. My dripping cock. The German Shepherd humping feverishly at my ass. The stained sheets, and the lustful snarl upon Francis' face as he turned his head and stared at Bradley's meek, towel-wrapped form.

I heard him moan. A sound of utter despair and misery wrapped up in unwanted but undeniable excitement. For the second time in two days he was witnessing live, unfiltered and undiluted sex. Lust and love at its most potent. The very thing his body doubtlessly craved, so abundantly lavished upon each of his brothers while he was left starving and unattended.

It broke my heart, and had Francis not been doing such an incredible job on my prostate, might well have spoiled the moment for me as I approached yet another spectacular orgasm.

That evening, just last night in fact, I sat down with Francis, Timothy and Jack to talk. We were all of the same opinion. Something had to be done. We had to try harder, find some way to get Bradley to open up and give someone a chance. If only for a night. If only for an hour, he needed to share himself with someone so that he could stop thinking about it. Stop obsessing over it, and letting every reminder no matter how big or small crush him with the weight of his own loneliness.

We agreed that this weekend, at the card game tournament Bradley had been practising for all week, we'd find someone for him. Maybe someone in the very same situation as his. A kindred spirit; awkward, nervous, allowing fear to get in the way of just how desperately they needed it.

No longer was it just a matter of doing something nice for our younger brother. Timothy and I felt like we were really starting to ruin Bradley's life by throwing our relationships in his face. Sure, we knew it wasn't our fault; that the last few days had just been a catastrophic conglomeration of bad luck. But the fact remained that both of us were responsible for our actions. Responsible for how and when and where we allowed ourselves to get caught up in whatever we and our lovers wished to do together.

We could have done more to keep Bradley from feeling alone and quite so desperate for someone to share himself. And if we had, maybe our brother would have been sitting calmly down in the living room, Yu-Gi-Oh cards laid out on the coffee table to finalize his deck list and strategy for tomorrow's tournament. Maybe he would have smiling, and chatting with Jack or Francis, and getting at least a small break from his demanding libido.

But he's not.

Instead, he's holed up in his room while me and Timothy talk about him in hushed voices from next door. Re-iterating how important tomorrow is, and how worried we are, as we hear him moaning and masturbating for the fourth or fifth time this same morning.

***************

Bradley's Story

There are two special men in my life. I wish that was as hot as it sounds, but it really isn't. They're my brothers. My older brothers. And much as I love them, they're driving me crazy right now.

For quite some time, they've been on my back about me getting a boyfriend. I keep telling them I'm not interested, that I'm not gonna let them set me up with one of their friends knowing full well that we'll have very little in common. Besides, I've never actually told them that I'm looking for a boyfriend. As far as they know, I'm perfectly happy on my own. Which I am.

Mostly.

Okay, I'll admit, I like the idea of having a boyfriend. Someone to chat about my day with while we cuddle on the couch, or on my bed. Someone to share my most private thoughts; things you can't tell friends or family. And, yeah, I guess it'd be nice to have someone to do stuff with. Sex stuff.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Sex, that is. I'm a virgin. I'm not ashamed of it, but it's not exactly something to be proud of either. It's all well and good to say you're waiting for the right person, but if that person doesn't come along... what are you supposed to do in the meantime?

For me, the answer's simple. If I get a thought in my head, a romantic or sexual thought, I'll deal with it. I won't ignore it. Won't hide from it. I'll use it, and enjoy the thought while it's fresh in my mind. Even if that means I'm taking some personal time five... maybe even six or seven times a day, sometimes. Is that really so strange? It's not like I'm letting it interfere with my school work or my social life or anything.

Besides, I'm obviously not the only one enjoying my body. My brothers are way worse. Just because they're not doing it alone, it doesn't change that they're every bit as horny as me. How else do you explain me catching them fucking earlier this week. Fucking their boyfriends, that is, not each other. Gross. On Wednesday, it was Timothy and his boyfriend Jack. I caught them messing around in the living room. God, I'm cringing just thinking about it. How could Timothy think it was okay to do that right there in the open. Would he have dared do that if mom and dad were home? I doubt it! And then on Thursday, I walked in on Peter and Francis. At least they were doing it in the bedroom, but still. They knew I was upstairs, I'd stuck my head in to ask them something just a few hours earlier. Could they not have waited?

Even now, after all that humiliating crap they put me through, they still won't let up. The whole group of us are going out to this Yu-Gi-Oh TCG tournament at my local game store. I'm the only one playing, but as soon as they found out I was taking part my brothers and their boyfriends said they wanted to cheer me on. I guess they have their soccer and football, and I always enjoyed watching them play on the high school and college teams for those. This is probably just the closest they expect they'll get to see me playing sports. And they're probably right.

The problem is, they're not actually interested in the card game. The whole car ride so far, they've not asked me a single question about Yu-Gi-Oh, even though I'm fairly sure none of them have seen the show, read the manga or even played a single game with the decks I bought my brothers for Christmas a few years back. Instead it's been the same routine of questions. Is there anyone going to be at the tournament I know. Anyone I like? A friend? Someone more than a friend? Someone I'd like to become more than a friend? I wish they'd take 'No' to mean just that, rather than assuming I'm trying to hide something from them. All they're doing by talking about it is making me think about the kind of guy I'd love to meet there. And all that's gonna do is make me get... well... it'll make me need to take a restroom break before the tournament starts.

We arrive at the game store, and I excuse myself. I know full well what they're all thinking as they see me dart away with my cheeks reddening, but I don't care. Its their fault I'm feeling this way. Their fault I need to jerk off before my cock starts acting on its own and ends up giving me a tent in the middle of the tournament.

The store's busy, and there's already a short queue for the single men's bathroom. I'll have to make it a quickie. I join the queue. Three people in front of me. Two. One.

I slip inside. It's more like a small home bathroom than a restroom. No stall, just a tile room with a sink and a toilet. Carefully I lock the door. The click of the metal catch sends a shiver running down my spine. I'm alone, and I'm undisturbed.

My fingers fly over my belt. My jeans fall to the floor. I pull down the front of my boxer shorts, tucking them beneath my snowy white furred balls. My sheath is already thickened, swollen with arousal. I touch it. Squeeze it. My free hand rises to my muzzle to stifle my first moan of pleasure as my cock begins to grow.

I close my eyes and think of sex. No particular person. No particular scenario. Just... sex. Of hot guys. Of intimacy. Being held and kissed and touched and loved. My hand begins to stroke at my swelling shaft. I feel my knees tremble. I use it, imagining that I'm standing with my lover before me. He's on his knees, sucking me. I'm bucking at his eager muzzle.

Yes. Yes.

I imagine his cock. The cock of my fantasy man, as long as mine and substantially thicker. What a man. I wish I could have a cock like that in my hands now. To touch it, to worship it. To make it cum. Hot ribbons of seed lashing out over me. Making me howl with lust. Making me shake from head to toe as my lover's cum coats me. Making me cum.

My eyes spring open, and I moan desperately into my free hand. It's happening. My cock throbs, strains urgently within the grasp of the paw rubbing it, and begins to spray thick streaks of my cum out across the tiled bathroom floor. I ride the orgasm like a pro, milking myself for everything I'm worth. It's so good. So satisfying.

I recover quickly. It's something I've gotten pretty good at. I stuff my still mostly erect shaft back into my boxers, re-fasten my jeans, and grab a handful of toilet paper. I wipe clean my hand and drop briefly to my knees, cleaning the most obvious trails of cum from the ground. Tossing the paper into the toilet, I flush. I wash my hands, dry them off, and make my exit.

My only hope is that the next person to use the bathroom isn't a canid, or another species whose nose will likely be able to detect and identify the scent of sex in the air.

I pull the bathroom door open, and my heart sinks.

Standing on the other side of the door, first in the renewed queue of four or five that had sprung up while I was occupying the restroom, was Peter.

My older brother looks at me for a single instant. Sees the guilt and embarrassment on my face, and knows what I've done. He rolls his eyes, smirks, and says nothing as he passes me and slips into the bathroom.

As I make my shameful escape, the last thing I hear is him sniffing the air pointedly and snorting with laughter.

Goddammit.

I try to put my latest humiliation out of my mind. The tournament is about to start, and I need to focus. I try not to think about what my brothers and their boyfriends will be saying to each other as they stand on the sidelines. About how Peter caught me, and how desperate they must think me to not be able to wait even ten minutes after arriving, the car journey here having only been less than an hour.

I can't shake it off. When the first game begins, my focus is shot and I lose to some rookie mistakes.

The second game goes better. I win, but only because my opponent screws up worse than I did.

The third game begins. My opponent looks familiar, and he smiles at me in a way that confirms we know each other. We begin to play, and my attention shifts from the embarrassment of my earlier exposure to trying to figure out where I know this man from. He's my age. Taller and stronger than me in build, but with that same innate shyness visible in his movements and the way he reacts when eye contact is made. His blue skin is beautifully smooth, scaled but without the rough texture of a true reptile. He's a Digimon. An exveemon.

I remember now. Of course. I've only ever known one exveemon. I'm pretty sure everyone at my high school only ever knew the one exveemon. I guess that's why we all just called him Vee.

Our game is close. I win by the narrowest of margins, but I don't care. Neither does Vee. After the match is over, we stay sat at our table and begin to talk more openly.

Nervously, he asks if I remember him. His face lights up when I tell him I do. We were in high school together. By all accounts we should have known each other quite well, but while the two social groups we moved in were always in similar circles, they rarely seemed to overlap. I tell him I wish we'd had a chance to get to know one another better. He says the same.

We smile, and our eyes meet. Both of us blush, but neither of us look away.

Our tournaments ended right there.

We sit out the next round, grabbing a drink and a candy bar and just talking. Catching up on what we've both been doing for the last year. What our college courses are like. What we're up to outside of college. Basically anything and everything.

When one of the organisers comes over and tells us that either we take our seats of we forfeit, we're both unable to hide how happy we are to hear one another say that we withdraw from the tournament. That we'd rather keep talking. We move away from the tournament area to the back of the store. Standing and talking amidst stacks of board games, laughing and joking like we've been best friends for years. Its so easy. So comfortable.

He asks me a question about a game on one of the shelves close by. To direct me to where it's resting, he touches me on the arm. My skin prickles and my fur rises sharply beneath his touch. It's all I can do to hold back a moan of pleasure. The contact is electric, and from the look on his face, he feels it too. His hand lingers there. His face flushes, and his eyes look down to the floor.

I can't believe what I'm hearing as he tells me that he always thought I was cute. That if he'd been out of the closet in high school, he totally would have asked me on a date.

My own face burns crimson, and I feel like I'm gonna pass out as I reply.

"Well... w-what's stopping you now?"

Before we know it, we're leaving the game store. I don't say anything to my brothers or their boyfriends. They're too busy watching the tournament. Would you believe it, they've actually gotten rather invested in the whole thing! So much so they haven't even noticed that I'm not present at any of the tables still competing.

Together, we make our way to a cafe nearby. We eat. We talk. We let our hands touch across the table, fingers caressing one another so delicately, but with such purpose that it takes our breath away.

We have our date, however belated, and it's incredible. We both know it. All this time, we've been looking. Waiting for something without knowing what it is. And now, suddenly, we know.

By the time my brothers get in touch with me to ask where I've gone, Vee and I are almost done with our meal. I start to panic a little, wondering what I'm supposed to do now. I'm not ready for this to end. For us to part ways.

In the heat of the moment, knowing that I need to go home, but also knowing that I'm not ready to say goodbye to Vee for even a short while, I invite him back to my place.

I don't think I've ever seen my brothers look so shocked; so overwhelmed with surprise and... yeah, even a little pride, as when I meet them outside the game store soon after. By my side, his right hand in my left, is Vee. His face is red. Mine is too. But we're both grinning. We can't help ourselves. We're just so damned happy.

Vee comes back to the house with us, so there's no time for my brothers to ask any but the most basic of questions. It must be driving them insane. I love it.

We arrive home, and Vee and I go out into the garden. Somehow Peter and Timothy manage to restrain themselves, and leave us be as we talk and hold hands. It's about seven o'clock by this point, but it's still bright and sunny outside. There's birds singing, and the whole world feels like it's cheering us on.

I feel Vee's paws tighten their grip on mine, and look up into the digimon's face with bashful curiosity.

He leans in. Blushing. Mouth already slightly open, anticipating my acceptance of his kiss.

Our lips meet, just for a moment, and from inside the house I hear a loud burst of cheering. We pull back hurriedly, and both glare up in the direction of the noise; towards my bedroom window. The curtains flash across to hide the faces who have been watching us, but I honestly don't know why they bothered. Who else could it be, but my brothers and their boyfriends.

I look back at Vee. Blushing, embarrassed by my family's total lack of tact. He smiles, and tells me how lucky I am to have a family that wants to see me happy.

I tell him how lucky I am to have met him, because he makes me happy.

His face burns brightly beneath his blue and white scales, and we kiss again. This time we don't stop when we hear the cheering resume. We barely even notice it, far too wrapped up in one another to care.

By the time Vee and I return into the house, it's getting dark. We've been making out for... god, I don't even know. Hours, certainly. I never understood before how people could do that. Just stand there kissing. Not talking. Not interacting in any other way than with their muzzles and tongues entwining. Now I get it. Once you find the right person, you don't need to talk. Don't need to do anything, but make one another feel good.

We're in such a state. Worked up to the extreme, giggling and murmuring and moaning as we stumble through the house hand in hand. We both know what we're planning. What we're hoping for. It's pretty obvious, and given that we've had our bodies pressed up against one another for the last couple of hours, there's no point in denying how we feel. We want each other. We want to be with each other. To free those rigid bulges which have been pressing together for the last few hours,

I know that my brothers are still in the house as we slip into my bedroom, but I don't care. After all they've put me through this week, leaving themselves exposed and throwing their own erotic love lives in my face, I don't care if they can hear me.

We fall onto my bed. Vee's on top of me. His larger, stronger body pins me to the sheets, and we kiss once again. I feel his hands on my torso. Trembling with nervous excitement. I put my paws over his, steadying him, reassuring him. We both want this.

Little by little, fragmented by kisses and a general abundance of tender touching, we remove each other's clothes. I marvel at his smooth, strong body, and he seems enraptured by my slender, almost feminine frame.

My hands run over his bare chest. Fingertips brush against his nipples, and he cries out with such ferocity that I stop; staring wide eyed, afraid I've hurt him.

His face darkens with embarrassment, and he whimpers softly to me.

"D-don't stop. Please. Do that again."

I touch his nipples. Delicately, as lightly as my shaking hands will allow. He wails again, desperate and helpless to resist. His back arches, forcing his chest, his nipples forward against my fingers. He looks so embarrassed, but so happy to be able to tell someone what he's about to admit.

"I... I'm sorry. I've always been really, really sensitive there. I hope it's not too weird?"

I smile. I kiss him. I tweak his left nipple between forefinger and thumb, and delight in his desperate grunt of bliss.

"It's okay. I don't mind. I..."

My voice falters, but I'm determined to proceed. He trusted me. He opened up to me about something really personal, and now it's my turn to do the same.

"...I have a secret too. This is... I mean, you're gonna be... my, um... my first."

Vee freezes for a second. I pray I haven't scared him. I haven't made him reconsider things with my admission of inexperience.

He shakes his head, and whispers to me in a voice so soft it's like he's kissing me with his words.

"Then... for me to be here, now? I'm a hundred times luckier than I already thought I was."

After that, we don't talk any more. There's nothing that we can say now that can't be shared in other ways. A look. A kiss. A touch.

The rest of our clothes fall away, and we're naked together. Nude, aroused, trembling with anticipation.

I point to the bedside cabinet. Vee slides off me for a moment, and I moan in anguish at the loss of his weight upon me. He reaches into my bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube, and then a condom.

Our eyes fixate on that small plastic packet, the ring of what lies inside clearly visible.

I shake my head. He blushes, and sets the condom down.

It's a risk. A stupid risk for both of us. But in that moment, in the heat of the act itself, it seems like the hottest, most romantic gesture in the universe.

He moves to lubricate my cock, but again I shake my head. I point to him, to his cock. His lubed up hand reaches for himself instead, and we both groan in delight as he begins to coat his thick, swollen cock with the glistening, slippery fluid.

"Please... y-yes..."

I hear myself moaning loudly as he rubs up against my ass. My legs are spread wide apart and my tail is thumping against the bedsheets beneath me like I'm beating a drum. I'm ready. I've never been so ready. Every time I've had my fingers inside myself, every time I've used one of my toys in bed at night, or in the bath when I've had a few hours to myself, it's like I've been practising for this very moment. Not just for my first time, but for this time. For me and Vee. For us.

He pushes against me. God he's big. I feel my eyes bulging, tears prickling at their corners not with pain, but with overflowing joy.

I cry out as he enters me. Loudly, gleefully, screaming my satisfaction to all that will listen. From somewhere in the distance, muffled by at least one wall, I hear a desperate moan. Now I know for sure my brothers are close by. The two of them and their boyfriends, probably hiding out in Peter and Timothy's room. Listening to me. Trying to figure out if I'm really gonna go all the way on the first date.

My cries leave them in no doubt, and leave Vee unable to deny just how good he's making me feel. With his confidence bolstered, he begins to push harder. To slide into me with greater urgency and force. I've taken a toy at least as long as him before, but never as wide. It's an incredible feeling to be stretched like that. Not painful though. To feel him throbbing against my prostate, pain is the last word I'd use to describe these heavenly moments of our first time.

Reaching out, I claw at his chest. My fingers drag over his stiff nipples, and I feel a burst of warm wetness within me as his cock lurches and shoots forth a potent stream of pre-cum. He stares down at me with glazed eyes, utterly overwhelmed by how I'm making him feel, and gurgles in ecstasy.

We start to make love. To fuck. God, I don't know what to call it except for amazing. Vee's cock slides in and out of me like we've been doing this together for years, my body intensely receptive to his every movement and his to mine. I rub feverishly at his nipples, encircling them with as many fingertips as I can for maximum stimulation. He wails happily. We both do. Each giddy moan and cry provokes another, both of us so overwhelmed at seeing our new lover so excited by our actions.

There's only one downside to the incredible rush of ecstasy we're sharing. It can't last forever. We're both so worked up, so consumed by our affection and intoxicating lust for one another, that our orgasms are upon us far too soon.

Vee falls down upon me, pinning me flat to the bed with his weight once more. He begins to hump and grind against me with savage ferocity, grunting and whimpering as he stares into my eyes with pleading adoration. I kiss him, nodding hurriedly, inviting him to do what he needs so desperately to do. He moans in delight, and I wrap my arms tightly around him. I pull his body closer still to my own, our heads resting upon one another's shoulders and our breathy gasps of near-rapture whistling shrilly in our partner's ears.

Only then, a moment before my eyes are about to close in total ecstasy, do I see it.

Pinned up in the top corner of my bedroom wall. A tiny object that isn't normally there. A square little box with a glimmering circle in its front. A lens. And a blinking green light on one side.

I recognise that device, because Timothy and Peter bought me it last year.

My wireless webcam. Staring down at me and Vee on my bed. Watching. Recording. Transmitting every second of this intimate, personal moment of my life back to the perverse eyes of whoever was watching.

No sooner had I made eye contact with the webcam, I heard a muffled curse through the bedroom wall.

They knew they'd been caught, and that there was nothing they could say or do to worm their way out of it.

It was lucky for them I was less than a split-second away from enjoying the most intense and mind-numbingly wonderful orgasm of my life. Lucky for them that in the last few hours I'd gone from a lonely, horny guy to a man head over heels in lust and love at first sight.

Lucky for them that I wasn't angry. That if anything, I was glad. Because if my brothers were twisted enough to be watching their little brother lose his virginity, they were probably twisted enough to be recording it too. And if they were recording it, that meant Vee and I could watch it. Watch it, and enjoy re-enacting it frame by frame, thrust by thrust. Over and over again.

"V-Vee!"

I cry out as I feel my lover's cock swell inside me. Straining, painfully rigid, and suddenly beginning to pulse with a frantic rhythm. Hot, molten ecstasy floods my insides, and as the Digimon begins to howl in orgasmic rapture, I finally close my eyes and forget all about that camera. All that mattered now was Vee. His cock spurting and throbbing inside me, and my cock lashing our two stomachs with thick ribbons of cum as I join my boyfriend in ecstasy.

For the rest of the night, we play. We kiss. We screw. We put on one hell of a show. I lose my virginity in every way I can think of. Oral, anal; giving and receiving. I use my tongue on every inch of Vee's body, particularly his deliciously sensitive nipples, and he gleefully reciprocates.

I make up for every lonely night. Every solitary session of pleasure I'd engaged in with fantasies of this exact moment in mind. I give Peter and Timothy not only reason to blush, not only reason to be proud of their geeky little brother, but to be envious of me.

When finally we are spent, utterly incapable of giving or receiving any more pleasure than we have, I fall forward into Vee's arms with a giggle of sleepy, giddy delirium. My cock, still rigid and with its knot fully engorged, rubs against the smooth scales upon his balls, and we both moan in anguished over-stimulation. I lay my head down upon his chest, kissing at Vee's nipples in turn. Again he cries out, fatigued but still helpless to resist that particular turn on. I show mercy though, planting one last kiss between his nipples, over his heart, before finally lying my head down on his chest.

I can hear his heart pounding. I'm sure mine is too, but I only care about his. About him. It's not about me. It never has been. That's what my brothers never understood. I was lonely, yeah. Horny, definitely. But finding me some random dude to screw was never the answer.

All this time, I've been waiting. Waiting for the right man to sweep me up in his arms and make me happy. And now, just like I always knew he would, Vee has done it.

It's like we're meant to be.

Like we're destined for happiness, so long as we stay close to one another.

Timothy has Jack. Peter has Francis. And me... I have my Digimon. My handsome, beloved companion. My Vee.

I close my eyes, snuggle down into his warm scaled embrace, and peaceful, satisfied sleep takes us at long last.

***************

Vee's story.

For a long time, there were no special men in my life. There were men. Close friends, even a lover or two. But no-one truly special.

Now, there's Bradley.

He thinks he's just my lover. My boyfriend. But he's so much more than that.

He has no idea how important he is. How hard me and his brothers and their human partners have worked to keep him happy. To keep him safe until he was ready to embrace his fate. His destiny.

He has no idea how many people were watching as we made love for the first time. How many Digimon were singing joyously throughout the digital world, as their new saviour came of age and embraced his future.

And now, as he sleeps, he still has no idea. But he will soon. Very soon.

When he awakens, and sees the Digivice glowing on his bedside table, he'll have no choice but to learn how important he is.

Not just to me. Not just to his brothers. But to the whole world.

By Jeeves