Sean and John ∆ kinktober Twins

{{user}} adjusted her hair and clothes, then knocked.

The door didn't open right away. First, there was the sound of shuffling, and a few seconds later, the door cracked open; through the gap, she caught a glimpse of a bare shoulder, part of a bare chest and stomach, and the cheerful pink towel she had jokingly given Sean not long ago. {{user}} was about to make a quip—something like how glad she was that he liked the gift—but something about the look on his face struck her as odd. It was as if he wasn't happy to see her. Or perhaps he was surprised.

"Oh, {{user}}..." His expression was strange. His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened for a moment. He stepped back, hiding behind the door as if she might see something new on his bare stomach.

"I, uh... Well..."

Not waiting for the neighbors to come out and see what the noise was about, {{user}} quickly slipped through the half-open door and closed it behind her. Her boyfriend stood before her wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, clearly not knowing where to look. His hair, wet and tousled from the towel, stuck up in every direction like a spiky hedgehog, and droplets of water trickled from his chest down his toned stomach. He held onto the towel as if he were more afraid of it falling off than eager for it to do so. A faint flush of embarrassment colored his earlobes and neck.

"You see, I... It just sort of happened..." *What’s wrong with him? Why is he acting like this? Is he embarrassed about being in a towel? Or the fact that he was wearing THAT specific towel? Or... *

She didn't have time to imagine anything worse. Sean walked into the room. A silence fell, filled by nothing but John’s heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock. John stood in the middle of the room, wearing only a towel around his hips, nervously fiddling with its edge. Finally, he was the first to snap out of it: "Damn it, Sean! What took you so long?! She just barged in here like she owned the place. I opened the door thinking it was you, and then..."

Sean set his bag down on his bed and, clearly swallowing back a string of curses, wordlessly and gently took {{user}} by the waist to lead her out of the room, tossing a remark over his shoulder to his brother: "Get dressed." Once they were in the hallway, he turned her by the shoulders to face him. "I’m so sorry, {{user}}. I never imagined you two would run into each other like that. Damn, I was only gone for half an hour—how did things get so complicated in such a short time?" He scratched his eyebrow, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "Look, the shower in John’s unit broke, so I told him he could use mine. And... I’m really sorry about the towel. Honestly, it’s a cool one. It was, anyway. I wiped my face with it..." He winced, wearing a sheepish, guilty expression. His touch softened; he rubbed {{user}}’s shoulders soothingly and gave a slightly awkward smile. "He’s a jerk. I’m an idiot. Can you forgive us?"

John stood in the shower, the water pouring from the showerhead in strong streams over his shoulders, pleasantly massaging and relaxing the muscles. The steam in the shower stall added a pleasant touch.

And not just the steam. John felt a firm, yet still gentle, grip of fingers on his shoulders. These fingers squeezed his trapezius muscles several times, then the massaging movements moved to his shoulders, warming up his deltoids and biceps, and smoothly moved to his chest and stomach. Two quite obvious soft rounds pressed against his back, and through the stream and water his back felt the touch of lips. John stopped moving, his own hands still, while the woman's hands moved lower and lower down his stomach, until one of them cupped the very place that craved it most.

The hand began a leisurely but noteworthy forward motion. Up and down. Up and down. The water made it easier to slide, as if the soft fabric were sliding over his cock along with her palm.

John didn't need to turn around to know who was behind him, but Eleanor ducked under his hand and appeared right in front of him. Her wet eyelashes barely covered her eyes, she looked at him with the same expression he saw on their first meeting and which had sunk into his soul. Most likely, she didn't mean anything like that back then and it was a coincidence, but right now, here, in the shower, it was fucking sexy. And then she licked her lips and... smoothly sank to her knees in front of him.

When Eleanor opened her mouth and her tongue touched the head of his penis, John was ready to bury it, but only a strangled hiss escaped his throat. She smoothly took him into her mouth. First just the head, then deeper and deeper, until her lips were almost at the very base. John felt his balls give way, as if trying to push his cock deeper. He wanted to buck his hips, at least to beg her not to stop, but he couldn't.

She released him just as smoothly as she'd taken him in, parting with her tongue from the base to the tip. Then her lips, which had just been working him so perfectly, parted in a mocking smile—almost a snarl.

"Only in your wet dreams," she purred, still looking up at him with those wide eyes.

John woke up with a growl. His cock was hard, his balls were so tight that by the time he got up and made it to the bathroom, he was half-ready for them to explode.

"Fucking accident..." John growled and whined as he locked himself in the bathroom stall and, with just a few quick, rhythmic thrusts, brought himself to such an orgasm that he had to hold onto the wall. His knees felt weak and he nearly collapsed forward, barely suppressing a loud groan. Those nasty lips, parted in a smile, were still before his eyes.

John looked sullenly at the white streaks he'd left in the toilet, cleaned himself up, and flushed. He had to get ready for his morning sociology block schedule. Which, of course, would include both Sean and Eleanor. They'd sit side by side like two fucking doves on a wedding cake. His mood was literally pitch black.

"Come on, this will be awesome!" Sean had been coaxing John for fifteen minutes. "{{user}} is great at this, I'm a great animator, you're an incredible engineer. We'll be the best, and we'll even get a scholarship for this project, on top of all the extra credit." {{user}} sat next to him, clearly embarrassed. John chuckled: it seemed her brilliant idea hadn't come to his brother at her instigation.

"No, Sean. I'm not getting involved in this. Not with both of you." Not with her was clearly pronounced over the politically correct 'with you.' John crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis.

They were sitting in the coworking area, where John was working on an idea he wanted to pitch to Sean for a joint interdisciplinary workshop. They always did this kind of thing together. And this time, they were planning to. But there were two hitches. First, this time he needed to assemble a group of at least three students from different backgrounds. Second, Sean couldn't go anywhere without his sticky-as-candy {{user}}. The very term 'his' in relation to Sean and {{user}} made John's jaw clench. She was driving him crazy. She showed up out of the blue, ruined everything, and now—look at her—she's sitting there sulking at him, as if he, not she, was giving him a headache.

"John, please. For me." Sean spoke firmly and rather quietly. It seemed he was determined to get John's consent at any cost.

John sighed and said, for probably the tenth time, "No." Sean sighed and crossed his arms. "We need her, John. We can't complete a project without {{user}}." He looked at her with that infuriating treacle in his eyes. And the bitch even smiled back. "Besides," Sean continued, "{{user}} is very talented. You'll see." John rolled his eyes, returning to his calculations. "Fine. Since you made the decision for everyone, then you're responsible. Let's keep her with us. But I won't let her poke her nose into our project," he declared, grimly and adamantly.

Of course, how could it be otherwise? Sean was sick, but the project deadline was still there. There was still a lot to do before the deadline, and that jerk was lying there with a fever. He was coughing so hard, even hearing it through the phone, his mirror neurons made him unconsciously clear his throat in response. And he flatly refused to let them into his room. "I'll send the files to the general chat. You'll have to merge them without me. If either of you gets infected..." Sean let out a wet, bronchial-shaking cough, causing {{user}}, listening on speakerphone, to frown and purse her lips.

Arguing was pointless. John went to the pharmacy, got all the things {{user}} had told Sean to bring, and added some of his favorite lozenges. That evening, {{user}} and John were putting together their parts of Sean's files. They stayed in the workshop until late. It was already dark outside, the campus lights were still on, but the walk to the dorm was past several buildings, including the sports building. And evenings aren't always quiet... John closed his laptop and cleared his throat. "I'll walk you to your dorm," he said dryly.

He didn't want to admit it, but it was the right thing to do. {{user}} might be a pain in the ass, might annoy him more than even idiotic nicknames like 'nerd' or 'brainworm' had ever infuriated him as a child. Even more so. But it was his duty to walk her and make sure she was okay. To his brother, of course. "Sean will eat my brains out with a teaspoon for the rest of my life if I let you walk in the dark alone," he said categorically, putting his laptop and notebooks in his backpack. "Come on, don't hang around and don't argue. Let's go." John didn't offer her his hand, but remained standing, waiting.

The project was, of course, successfully completed. On time, with excellent marks—no one doubted it. Sean had also gets well and was busy catching up. And not just in his studies.

Sean's lips left a hot trail of kisses, descending lower and lower, to where his hands were unbuttoning {{user}}'s blouse. They were lying on his bed, Sean's shirt already lying somewhere nearby, as were their shoes. The jeans were clearly in the way; Sean fidgeted in them as if they were peppered.

{{user}} arched her back and lifted her chest, allowing her boyfriend's nimble fingers to handle the clasp of her bra. As that lacy monstrosity flew off somewhere after their shirts, Sean, with hunger in his eyes, took in the scene before him and smiled like a contented cat. "You're so fucking beautiful, {{user}}," he purred, tracing his thumb over her nipple. He leaned down to her lips and got to work, kissing her just the way she liked. His hand moved from her breast down, brushing over her ribs, causing her to gasp through the kiss. Sean chuckled contentedly against her lips, and his hand moved even lower, undoing the button and zipper, slightly pushing the denim aside, and running his fingers over the lace of her panties. "Oh, someone was getting ready for the meeting. I'm flattered," Sean chuckled, breaking the kiss to pull your jeans down with both hands. He pulled them down halfway, revealing your knees, which he had just managed to kiss one by one when the door to the room was unlocked. Sean grabbed his jaw, where {{user}} had just slammed her knee into his out of necessity...

This was the scene John found when he walked in with a couple of textbooks and a tablet (he was sure Sean was at that boring color therapy lecture he was supposed to be attending that evening). {{user}} lying on the bed with her jeans pulled down to her knees, and Sean, shirtless, leaning over her, clutching her bruised jaw. {{user}} grabbed the pillow above her head and covered her chest with it. But John kept replaying the scene in his mind's eye, as if in slow motion: there she was, looking at him with wide eyes, her lips, swollen from kisses, forming an 'o'; Then she raises her arms above her head, making the lines of her ribs clearly visible and the tense peaks of her nipples rise upward... And those lace panties that neither of them bothered to cover.

Even the keys he had just used to unlock the door jingled with a muffled sound, like a wasp in a jar.

"What the hell, John? Didn't they teach you to knock?!" Sean growled, quickly yanking the blanket from under {{user}} and throwing it over the girl. He stood with his legs spread wide, blocking the view of her.