Chapter Text
The vast warehouse, its machines and lights dormant, sleeps in the predawn hush, a silent witness to the bustling activity that will soon fill its space. Beyond its doors, two soft voices interweave, one picking up where the other drops, almost as if they come from the same seemingly indistinguishable person, echoing the solitude of the near-empty academy.
"Half the students have gone home," one voice in the morning hush, "and a handful went on that camping trip."
"Right," the other quietly, "the bus was packed up this morning, which means Spring Break has officially started."
"Well," continues one softly, "Mom got called out of the country last week, and Dad decided to go with her. So, we have to stay put."
"Whatever will we do," whispered innuendo, dripping like honey from the other's tongue, "it'll be a bit lonely …"
After a brief silence, one of the two continues, slightly breathy: " Yeah, well, I talked …" ahem "… I talked to Mrs. Keller and Mr. Stewart, and they said we could use the break to work on our end-of-year project if we're up for it." Another quiet pause: "I think it's a great opportunity, don't you?" Again, that breathy quality.
As the early-morning light breaches the double doors, two young men are silhouetted in the frame. One's searching arm reaches for light switches along the wall. The click of switches, loud in the silence, precedes the flickering hum of fluorescent lights as they come to life. Adjusting to the change in light, the brothers, twins, wait.
The muscles in Marc's left arm flex swiftly and fluidly, arcing out and up, summoning a shimmering amber sphere. His oversized tee and baggy shorts barely disguise his muscular frame, and his right hand simultaneously slips his red-tinted glasses off and brushes the asymmetrical bangs of his dark, toffee-colored hair from his piercing ruby-red eyes. The shimmering ball expands into a hard-light screen before him. Arcane symbols dance along its edges, pulsating with untamed power.
Miles, coming up behind Marc, wraps his hand possessively around the back of Marc's neck, "Woah, babe-boi, …" whispering in Marc's ear, "… slow down …" hand sliding down the back of his shirt, "… before we get started, …" slipping two fingers into the waistband of his shorts "… we should get changed." Dragging his thumb around the now exposed band of Marc's underwear before taking the bottom hem of his shirt and walking backward, leading him towards an open hall on the left of the Machine Shop.
Letting the hem of Marc's shirt pop from the edge of his fingers, Miles turns, his emerald eyes flashing mischievously, to keep walking.
Tongue slipping from between his lips, moistening them, Marc watches the smooth roll of his twins' hips and the round orbs of his ass in his tight nylon shorts, the back of his tank exposing a sliver of skin just between shirt and shorts.
Entering the boys' locker room, Miles' back muscles flex as he pulls the tank top over his head, making a mess of his choppy, unkempt-styled, toffee-colored hair to expose his toned, naturally smooth torso. Marc watches as Miles passes his hand over the locker's combination lock; the pale amber light briefly emanates from his palm, and his locker pops open.
"Lazy-boi." Marc smiles as he spins his combination lock and unlocks it the old-fashioned way. With their lockers open, they each extract a pair of coveralls and lay them on the benches provided.
Tossing his tank top into his now open locker, Miles skins his tight shorts down his athletic, lightly-haired legs, exposing his bare fuzzy butt and watching Marc from the corner of his eyes.
Marc drops his baggy shorts and slips off his oversized shirt, exposing his smooth, lean torso, evidence of his work in the gym, alongside Miles, and his round, firm, fuzzy glutes, which hug tight, the crimson thong with the band labeled 'Ignite Intimates.' Marc and Miles' favorite brand, Miles, because of how they look on Marc, the small triangle slimming to a cord that snuggles between Marc's cheeks and around into a full pouch in the front. Marc's favorite because of how comfortable they supposedly are.
Miles absently runs his hand along his shaft as his mind drifts back to when the twins were younger and Marc wasn't so guarded.
Growing up as twins, they were often treated as the same person. Their parents dress them in matching outfits, play dates with the same groups, and enroll them in the same activities. Getting older, people began to pay attention to the little differences between them. Marc's red eyes marked him as other, causing those around them to treat him differently, with whispers that fell silent when he entered a room or hands that held a little closer to valuables, all while green-eyed Miles was praised as a saint. Miles excelled in sports, though Marc often kept pace with him in the gym; while Marc found his passion in creative pursuits, Miles his frequent muse and model; however, both shared an innate fascination with technology, which was where their magical strength lay. Still, Miles' is never one to lose sight of Marc's well-being.
While Miles was absorbed in thought and Marc's every move, he was temporarily oblivious to the lascivious glances roaming his body. Marc couldn't help but let his eyes brush over Miles' body, a well-studied canvas he had sketched, painted, and touched countless times.
"I think Mr. Stewart would disapprove," Marc teases with a sly grin, "of students going commando in class," as his gaze lands on Miles' swelling cock.
"Well," Miles replies with a wink, "Mr. Stewart isn't here." Stepping into the coveralls, he adds, "Plus, they've turned off the A.C. units for the break." He pulls the zipper up to just above his waist and ties the arms around himself while Marc pulls the zipper of his coveralls to mid-chest, smiling.
After getting dressed, Marc and Miles return to the machine shop floor and approach the glowing screen that Marc had activated earlier. Marc begins typing on a mysterious-looking keyboard and informs his brother, "I'm preparing to pull up the schematics."
Miles, with two fingers glowing amber, swipes through the air as if swiping on a touchscreen device. Arcane energy forms another hard-light screen and interface with more mystic symbols. "Securing the field, accessing the network," he says. "And …"
"We are secured," their voices in perfect unison.
As if handing the conversation off to his brother, Marc says, "Schematics displayed, opening storage," looking to Miles for confirmation.
With his magic's amber energy, he draws a frame in the air. "Open storage," Miles answers.
Marc types several commands, and a line of energy bisects the frame to create an opening in the air through which a sizeable enigmatic engine is pulled. The twins then begin working on their class project.
As the day passes noon, Marc's focus starts to shift from the tools in his hands and the engine in front of him to Miles; his grease-covered arms flex as he works, causing ripples of tension to run through him. Sweat glistens on Miles' skin under the sunlight streaming in through the window, tracing a path down his spine to disappear into the hidden cleft of his ass; Marc's tongue peeks out over his lips with his desire.
Their tools connect with the engine at regular intervals as they work side by side—their banter, laced with innuendos, both flirtatious and fraternal. Marc watches intently as Miles shifts his hips slightly while reaching with his wrench; it's enough to cause a twitch in Marc's already stiffening dick. Miles grinds against the machine playfully, purposefully catching his tied sleeves to pull them loose as he moves, revealing more of the mounds of his round cheeks that Marc can't get enough of. A sly smirk crosses his face as he notices Marc staring. Suddenly, he curses, his wrench slipping from his hands to clatter to the floor.
Dropping to his knees beside him to retrieve the dropped tool and without thinking, Marc's gaze locks with Miles' before drifting down along his slick skin, unable to tear away from the tempting sight. His heart races as Miles, arching his back slightly, bends further over, giving him a perfect view of those taunting cheeks partially covered by thin fabric. Marc seizes his opportunity, reaching out, and pulls down Miles' coveralls to expose his bare ass. The heat radiating off it scorches Marc's tongue as he draws up along the cleft, lapping up Miles' salty sweat.
As Miles feels Marc's cool, wet tongue on his sweaty flesh, matting the hair around his hole, every nerve ending lights up in arousal; an involuntary groan escapes him. His hands tighten on the engine, amber power flaring from his grip as his breath quickens, hitching slightly as he struggles to contain the pleasure thrumming through his body. The contact is incredible, and they are completely wrapped up in the moment together. Marc's hands roam over Miles' lean frame, surveying the familiar landscape of his brother, tracing sparse freckles, his amber magic arcing like electricity from him to Marc, filling the air around them. Miles' head drops and his gaze locks onto Marc's, their eyes burning with desire.
"I love when you – look at …" Miles pants in heat, "… at me like that," feeling himself getting hard under Marc's attention.
Nipping teasingly at Miles' hole and rising from his knees, he pulls his own coveralls down slowly, revealing his thong, the stretched cotton damp with his precum, containing his erection. Marc chuckles softly, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. "Oh my lazy-boi ..." he affectionately whispers. "… when you flaunt that – perfect – ass in front of me."
Wrapping his arm under Miles' chest to pull him up and press himself against his brother's back with a smirk, he reaches around and cups Miles' hard length, stroking him gently, the sensation intoxicating, and Miles' hips buck back subtly.
"I – I love – love when you make the first move," Miles stutters, his voice heavy with lust.
"You love to make sure that I feel in control ..." his voice thick with emotion. "And safe," he admits, moaning and nuzzling Miles' hair.
Driving his covered hard-on between the cheeks of Miles' bare ass, Marc nips at the back of his neck, which shows just how much Miles enjoys this and won't resist him right now, and the anticipation of what he can do to his brother is driving him wild. With one swift motion, Marc steps on Miles' coveralls, forcing them to his ankles and leaving him exposed.
Miles gasps in surprise and pleasure as Marc runs his hands up Miles' torso, taking his hard nipples between his fingers, rolling the nubs while allowing him to pull his feet free from the bunched coverall legs as he moans in response, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He bites his lip and leans backward, supporting himself against Marc's chest as his brother continues to work him.
Their bodies are now moving in concert, each touch sending shivers of desire racing through their bodies. Marc's hands play across the expanse of Miles' body and Miles' hips grinding against the machine, precum and amber power spilling over the engine, their arousal heightening with each passing moment—the magic crackles between them.
Marc's eyes, filling with raw desire, connect with Miles', and Miles responds with an equal intensity. The air around them swells with the heat of their impassioned power, mixed with the scent of sweat and lust. Without breaking eye contact, Miles turns in Marc's arms and crushes their mouths together, sending waves of need crashing through them. Retaking control, Marc slowly sinks to his knees and lowers his head to run his tongue slowly up Miles' length before taking him fully in his mouth.
Miles moans loudly, his fingers tangling into Marc's hair. "F – fuck – Marc, " he gasps, his voice hoarse. "Ohoo – baby, please." A tender whine escapes his lips.
Marc's teeth scrape gently over Miles' dick as he sucks deeper, drawing out another moan from his brother, their magic mingling and swirling around them, filling the space with a golden glow.
"W – wait, not yet!" Miles forcefully shoves his brother's head away, the thin strand of saliva and precum clinging to Marc's lips like a twisted leash.
With wide, blown pupils filled with raw desire, Marc pleads, "Please …" But Miles isn't done yet.
Miles growls as he pulls Marc back to him, delving into his mouth deep with his tongue. Their passion swells as Miles spins himself and Marc around, Miles' hands trailing along his spine before gripping tightly onto his ass, lifting him and positioning him so that he can catch sight of his target - that deliciously sweaty hole. The cool metal of the engine presses against Marc's overheated skin, the vibrations raising goosebumps. With a rough grunt, lifting Marc's legs, he buries his face, pushing aside the thong to devour his hole, covering his face in the scent of arousal and salty skin. His tongue lapping and licking the hairs, making a spear with his tongue to pierce the opening and flexing and digging, listening to Marc's pitched moans and desperate groans and working his ass until it was slick with spit.
Miles pulls Marc back to his feet, spinning him around and delving back into Marc's ass; his fingers trace the line of the thong, and with his free hand reaches for a close-by bottle of oil, dripping and dribbling the slick substance down his crack, caressing the sensitive skin around Marc's entrance before he slips his fingers inside as the air around them crackles with energy. Their bodies flush with desire as their amber magic pulses with each touch and breath. The sensation is almost more than Marc can bear, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as his body trembles. The scent of lust and sweat fills the air, mingling with the hum of the engine and the cool metal beneath them. A low groan escapes him, his hips bucking in response to Miles' skilled touch.
Miles' hands roam all over Marc's body, exploring every inch of him as their hearts race in sync with their pounding desire. Working Marc open, he pushes, probes, and twists until, finally, his practiced fingers find what he's looking for. As Miles' fingers expertly stroke Marc's prostate, waves of pleasure shoot through his body. "Gods," he sighs as Miles continues to massage the sensitive spot with skillful precision. His fingers plunged in and out, hitting that sweet spot again and again, driving Marc wild.
"Always so tight …" Miles praises, his fingers teasing and stretching Marc's entrance. Pouring more oil, the anticipation palpable as Miles drills his oil-coated fingers in and out, rising to stand behind him, teasing Marc's sensitive hole with the tip of his hard shaft.
Anticipation sends shivers down Marc's spine as he begs, "Oh, Miles, please."
As Miles breaches his hole, he holds at that edge, "Oh, babe boi …" catching his breath. “… are we making …” inching into Marc’s heat “… love …” pressing in more, “… or do you …” gently pulling Marc back by his hips “… just need …” his hips forward brushing over Marc’s prostate.
"Oh!" their amber magic flickers.
"… a good …" resting his hips firmly against Marc's ass, whispering, "… hard …" he pulls back just enough that only the edge of his glands still connects them. "… FUCK!" slamming home, hitting his prostate again.
"I…" starts Marc as Miles draws back gently, "…I love y…" Miles rocks slowly back in, brushing his prostate, "… ah… ah…" Marc licks his lips, “… love y – you …”
Miles slowly pulls out, grazing his prostate, "But?" running his hands along Marc's lats and around to his chest to tweak his nipples.
"Aha… bu – but …" putting his hands back on Miles' hips to stop him for a moment, "But I need you to fu – fuck me!" slamming his ass back, sinking onto Miles' hard cock.
Grabbing Marc's hair and pulling his head back to rest on his shoulder, they turn their faces together. Miles sucking Marc's tongue as they kiss pulls his cock back just to piston back in. Marc feels every thrust, every movement of Miles' hips against his own, igniting their amber energy. The sensation of their skin rubbing together, slick with oil and sweat, adds to the intensity.
Miles drives his stiff dick over and over against that nerve bundle in Marc's ass, "Aha…" his left hand sliding up to take a firm hold of Marc's throat, "Mmm…" his right-hand twisting Marc's nipple.
Without warning, Miles abruptly shoves Marc over the engine, grabbing his hips bruisingly hard as his hands struggle to find purchase on Marc's sweat-slicked skin and pull his ass back against his shaft. The repeated abuse of his prostate causes Marc's precum to pump into the cotton confines of his pouch as energy runs over the humming engine below them. His hands slide along Marc's slick, arched back, holding him by the shoulders before his left-hand snakes into Marc's hair, forcing his head back, his mouth hanging open in a soundless moan. Miles rotates his hips as he hammers into Marc's ass, his hand striking hard and fast against his hairy cheeks. Each strike leaves a red mark as amber sparks jump from the connection.
Marc's chest presses against the vibrating engine as his arms spread to embrace the machine below him sensually, the glowing pulse of energy building with each rough thrust of his brother's hard cock brutalizing his nerve bundle deep in his ass, and each blistering strike of his hands against his cheeks. Lost in ecstasy, his eyes rolling back, his mouth hanging open, wordless, Marc runs a hand down his chest; he leaves an amber trail, over his abs, past his thigh, amber magic drips like precum, stroking his taint, drops of amber fall to the floor, before reaching back to find the joining of his brother's cock to his hole, and slips his index in next to his brother's rutting length; then a second and finally another until with three fingers and his brother's cock they stretch his hole. The amber magic falls from them like sweat coating the floor and engine below.
As the engine becomes a wash in their magic, it rumbles against Marc's chest. He flexes his ass clenching his brother's cock, milking it with each thrust, until he feels Miles' swelling, then a warm forceful shot against his prostate, then a second blow, Marc's mouth dropping open. Miles pulls out with a fourth blast, then washing his brother's back with more cum.
Spent, Miles pulls Marc to him, resting his cum soaked back to his chest. Nibbling at his ear, running his tongue along the shell, "Did you cum?"
Marc turns his red eyes, the white sclera glowing now with amber light, and a harmonic hum to his voice, "Not yet …" reaching for his brother's balls below his softening dick, washing them in amber, "but I'm not done." Miles' shaft plumping back to life.
Miles smiles, then dips his tongue into the honey-colored power gathered in his brother's mouth, making love to him as the amber light peaks out his lust, leaden lids.