"Al, please come out."
Through the door Matthew’s voice is thin, strained, like he’s trying not to cry. It tugs at Alfred's core, unraveling another stitch, and he knows for sure he’s doomed.
It’s not exactly a new revelation, though.
From the moment he and Matthew’s orientations were discovered, he’s had this sinking, nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Burying his face in his palms, that day’s events play over in his mind, crystal clear against the darkness of his eyelids.
There’s no need to worry about that, the doctor had said in response to his initial questions, smiling in a way Alfred couldn’t pin as genuine or condescending. Family can’t be affected by each other that way, especially family as… close as the two of you are.
Alfred pegged it as condescending, watching the physician’s eyes flicker between him and his brother Matthew. So what if his fingers were laced with Matt’s while they sat here in the patient waiting room? They were brothers; twins,even.
It didn’t mean anything.
He and Matthew went home shortly after that conversation, absorbing the fact that though they were so much alike, they differed in one very important aspect: Alfred was an alpha; Matthew wasn't. And soon, Matthew was going to experience all kinds of things that Alfred would only ever witness: the onset of bright, full body flushes; wet, aching loins and persistent arousal; the deep, sudden, almost frightening desire to be bred.
But their doctor insisted that Alfred could expect to stay unaffected. So they didn’t bother moving Matthew to another room, or pulling their mattresses apart, or not passing out sprawled across each other in a mess of bedding after a late-night movie marathon.
Then, it happened. First was the smell, musky and alluring, tugging Alfred towards consciousness before he'd even been aware of it. Second were the noises — small, breathy sighs and the creak of a mattress dipping under shifted weight. Neither of these things woke him completely, however, not with him being used to his brother curling around him to seek out the comfort of his presence.
No, what woke Alfred instead was his own body, resonating with the hormones Matthew emitted. His cock was hard, tender, and — this is what made his eyes flutter open — damp. Damp where his clothed cock was wedged snugly between his twin's ass cheeks; where his palm, sweaty, splayed over Matt’s bare belly; where Matt was unconsciously reacting to him too, and starting to push back against him.
Al felt as though it took all of his might to blearily disentangle himself from Matthew, half-panicked and fully, fully aroused. He startled Matt awake in the process of tumbling out of the bed, into the adjoined bathroom, and bolting its door behind him. Back pressed to the bathroom door, he slid down to the floor, and prayed for his heart to stop hammering in his chest.
That was an hour ago.
And it's only gotten worse.
Alfred can tell that Matthew is right there on the other side of the wooden door, pushed up against it just like he is, because the blonde’s smell is filtering through and around it, strong and thick in his nostrils. It’s got him more turned on than he can ever remember being, got his skin prickling with the want to chase it down.
“Come out of there, Al, please,” Matthew is saying, drawing his attention. Every time Matt opens his mouth he sounds a little more desperate, making it just that much harder for Alfred to lick dry lips and say,
“You know I can’t, Matty.” Pause. Exhale. “We can’t.”
He feels the vibration of Matt’s pained groan in response, prompting him to fist his hands in his boxer shorts in frustration. Al’s palms itch from his inaction; he’s trying hard, so hard, to not touch, to not take his cock in both hands and get himself off just from the scent of his twin’s heat. Because if he does that, he knows it won’t satisfy him. It won’t be enough, and Matthew would still be there — is still here — calling for him.
"Al, please, you're the only one who can make it stop. Please," Matthew moans, rattling the door, and Alfred hears it, the very moment Matt’s voice breaks on his need.
“Jesus,” Al breathes, squeezing blue eyes shut. Matt is begging him. His baby brother is begging him and, god, he can't say no anymore. He can't deny Matthew when Matthew, his body, everything is telling him not to.
So he doesn't.
"Okay, Matty, just... okay," Al says, rising gingerly to his feet. His cock feels heavy and swollen between his legs and he's not even the one in heat. He bites his lip. Matthew must be miserable. "I'm gonna open it, hold on."
Alfred's hit with the full force of Matthew's musk as soon as he unlatches the door, swinging it wide. It’s dizzying, exciting, snatching any vestiges of resistance right out of him. In the span of a few heartbeats he’s on his knees over his brother, with Matt’s hands fisting in the collar of his tank top and Matt’s mouth meeting his own in a wet, messy, urgent kiss. Alfred goes with it, sucking on Matt’s tongue, following his instincts and the gorgeous, satisfied moans that vibrate up deep from Matthew’s chest. He’d never thought about kissing Matthew prior to this moment; now he doesn’t know if he ever wants to stop, can’t imagine stopping.
Pleasure pulses through Al in waves as Matthew writhes beneath him, rubbing against him insistently. They’ve been wrapped up in each other before but never quite like this, with their cocks pressing together and Matt’s leg hooking over his own to keep him close.
“Hurry,” Matthew gasps into Alfred’s mouth, already so hard and soaking wet, his underwear long discarded. Matt’s sweat-slicked fingers go from clinging to Al’s shirt to scrabbling at his boxers, the only barrier remaining between them.
They’re so uncoordinated, trying to get his bottoms off without really parting, that Alfred can’t help the hazy giggle that bubbles up as he shimmies on top of his brother. Matthew makes a frustrated noise against his lips that’s followed by the distinct sound of ripping fabric.
Shit, Matt, those were my favourite, Al wants to say, but with his boxers gone he can feel the true extent of his twin’s heat, how slick, sticky, and needful Matthew is. Desire spikes in his core, throbbing through his cock, his fingers, his lips; all that comes out instead is a breathless curse as he buries his face in the crook of Matthew’s neck.
They align themselves effortlessly now, Matt’s muscles warm and inviting around Alfred’s cock as he pushes forward, opening his brother up. With Matt’s fingertips digging into his back, spurring him on, it’s sinfully easy for him to bury himself to the base and fill the blonde up completely. Matthew arches his back, thumping his head against the floor, combinations of words spilling out of his mouth that Alfred’s never heard before:
thank you, god, Al, yes—harder, please, there, there—
Eyes screwed shut and lips pressed to the pulse-point at Matt’s throat, Al lets his twin guide him, his hips stuttering in time to Matt’s encouragement. He can feel Matthew shaking beneath him, his cock trapped thick and dripping between their bellies, and Al realizes somewhere outside of himself that he’s shaking too, pleasure thrumming through his body so sharply he can barely breathe past it.
Matthew’s nearly bent in half now at his own insistence, begging Alfred for deeper, more, and Alfred feels the head of his cock thickening and swelling as he complies, as he gives Matthew deeper, more. Al’s so close he can almost taste it, and so far out of control he knows there’s no turning back. Not with Matthew spasming and clenching around him, hot and slick and eager.
Alfred comes loudly, shuddering, slotted inside of Matthew as deeply as he can go, feeling his brother’s orgasm beneath him as an extension of his own. Knotted inside of Matthew utterly, for a long moment Alfred just breathes, his body twitching with aftershocks.
“Al….” Matt’s the first to find his voice, a soft, hoarse whisper into the darkness of the room around them. “Are… are we broken?”
His limbs feel like jelly but Alfred shifts anyway so that he can look at Matthew; he sees his shame and uncertainty reflected back at him from deep violet eyes. Resting his forehead against Matthew’s, he sighs.
“I don’t know.”