(c) 2001 Acheron. Do not distribute. If you think someone would like to see it, send them here.

Tick, tick, tick went the kitchen clock.

Save for the odd rustle of paper, it was the only sound.

Joseph Bertrand looked down at the reports in his hands, the sturdy wolf-morph's expression solemn, almost resigned.

He turned a page. And another. Resignation gave way to curiosity.

Then he started giving a similar treatment to the other stack. He took a sip of his coffee.

At last, he looked across the table, to the two identical wolves waiting there.

"I don't know what you're so anxious about, sons," he rumbled. "One mark each below an A, and neither in your main field. I could hardly demand this level of performance or criticise you for it. Very much the opposite," and here his stern countenance dissolved into a smile, "I'm quite proud of you both. Now off with you." He made playful little shooing motions with one hand, taking another sip of coffee with the other. "You deserve something for your hard work, and your mother and I will need to think hard to come up with a good surprise. In the meantime, you two think of what you want."

"Yes, father," they chorused, standing.

The older man chuckled. "You're too serious. Relax for a while! You've earned it."

Silently smiling, the twins scampered out of the room and upstairs.

"I get the shower first," Gawain tossed over as they rounded the landing.

Iain nodded. "I remember." Ever since a coin toss some months back, they'd alternated days. Gawain scampered into his room to grab his things; Iain took his time, knowing he'd have to wait a while anyway.

Dad was half-right, he reflected as he sat down by his easel, nude, ready for his shower whenever his brother was done. The older Bertrand had been correct in that his twin sons had been far more anxious than their marks warranted. Where he'd gone wrong was in assuming that the marks were nevertheless the cause of that anxiety.

I hate this, he thought as his pencil scratched across the paper. A wonderful girl at the office, just a few years older than us. But because we're her boss's sons, we can't even try to get to know her without people getting suspicious.

And there was also no denying that Jessica Troy was quite an attractive young woman to the pair of quiet sixteen-year-olds. She herself was eighteen or nineteen and in university. Not so far ahead of them.

Joseph Bertrand was an excellent father and provided well for his sons in a variety of different ways. But this was one thing he couldn't possibly touch. That thought would surely nag at him, except that his sons hadn't ever brought it up with him. A company CEO had enough pressure on him as it was, witness today's late return from a business trip.

He was just setting his pencil down when there was a tap on his door. "Your turn," came Gawain's muffled voice.

Calling out a quick acknowledgement, he looked at what he'd done. Two identical wolves with two identical smiles, each with an arm around the other's shoulder. He looked at it for a moment, bringing to mind how good it felt to have his twin beside him... how everything seemed a little easier to bear with his brother's help, all the joys a little more so when he could share them.

Maybe it wouldn't provoke the same reaction in someone who didn't know how it felt, but that was what he'd focused on. One could quite readily ignore the fact that they were naked.

Tossing a cover over his easel, he shrugged and went for his shower.

Five days in the bush. No electricity, no company... no problem!

Iain paced around their little campsite, pausing now and then to check the fire. School was out, with just one more year before they graduated. This was their time, their way of winding down – just getting away from it all. If they could catch a few fish in the quiet stream, so much the better; if not, they didn't have any real problem with the preserved food they'd brought along.

They didn't say much during dinner. They didn't need to. For a long time now they'd shared an unspoken accord, each knowing what was on the other's mind more often than not.

That was great for, say, passing condiments over when they were necessary and distributing after-dinner chores, but there were some things one couldn't be sure of, some things that just needed to be said. So it was that when Iain saw a thoughtful look on his brother's face in the tent, he paused in the process of folding up his shirt. "What's on your mind?"

Gawain lay back and stretched out over his sleeping bag. "Just that lately I've been feeling a little... er..."

"Tense?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know there's a lot more to any relationship than looks, but..." He trailed off.

"But Jessica really is a fine-looking lady."

A nod. "And what little we've seen of her personality is a match for it."

"Well..." Iain swallowed. "The fact that we can't get any closer does keep us – the three of us, assuming she'd be at all interested in us – from having to decide which of us two is left out."

Gawain bit his lip. "Yeah, that's true, that would really suck." A breath. "We could probably find a way to deal with it, though... with whoever comes along."

Rain on the leaves, and the occasional patter on the canvas around them, provided the only sound.

Iain finished folding his shirt and put it down. "I'm going to wash off," he said.

His twin grinned up at him. "Free showers, unlimited space. Great, isn't it?"

Iain laughed, nodded, and grabbed some shampoo.

The spring-fed stream was definitely on the chilly side, but the cold was actually quite invigorating. It got him moving, got his heart beating. With the rain beating down on him and rinsing out his fur, it felt pretty good. Very good, really. Leaning back, he let it flow down his chest for a few moments, closing his eyes and picturing... someone... stroking his body like that. There was no real face to that person... he couldn't even tell the shape of their body. It didn't matter. It just felt good.

A distant rumble of thunder snapped him out of his reverie. Distant and becoming more so, but still, it was enough to remind him that he was wading in a very cold stream. Best not to stay in until he actually felt it; then warming up would be a chore.

He sloshed out of the stream, pausing to squeeze most of the water out of his fur, and went on to dry off under the tarp they'd set up just outside the tent. Two towels were wet, one of them soaked, by the time he was satisfied and ducked into the vestibule.

Halfway through the door, he froze.

He'd seen his brother naked many times before. He'd even caught glimpses in the dark of Gawain touching himself. But this was the first time he'd seen him in plain view, lying naked on top of his sleeping bag with one hand around his erection.

Their eyes met, stunned dismay from one colliding with shock and even some curiosity from the other. Gawain was the first to break from that gaze, slumping back with a groan and trying to cover himself. "Sorry," he said. "I was just thinking, trying to imagine what it would be like with someone else, and there it was..."

"It's okay," Iain rushed, crawling the rest of the way in and pulling the zipper back down. "I know what you mean, brother. Nothing to worry about. I've wondered the same thing myself..."

An idea hit him. Unorthodox to say the least, but... who was around to care?

"We could see what it feels like," he offered, looking over again. His eyes momentarily flicked down to Gawain's poorly-concealed groin. "Right now. Just to see how it feels."

Gawain looked up at him, disbelief rapidly giving way to curiosity. Then he smiled. "If Dad knew, he'd freak," he said with a chuckle.

"Dad doesn't need to know." Iain shuffled his own mattress and sleeping bag closer to his brother's, and sat down.

"I know. Hey, it looks like you've got a little something to deal with yourself."

Iain didn't need to look, but he did anyway. Sure enough, there was a rather definite bulge in the towel. That fit with the tightness he felt.

"Here." Gawain shuffled a little closer and reached over, untucking the towel and lifting it off. Iain's breath rushed in as the cool air struck his hardening flesh.

There was something new in addition to the usual feeling Iain felt when close to his twin. Something different, something exciting, something just as good. His left arm, the closer arm, slid across his brother's shoulders and around his neck; turning in a little, he slowly touched his splayed right hand to Gawain's belly, heard the sharp hiss of indrawn breath, felt and saw the muscle quiver under his fingers.

"Feels good?" he murmured, his nose touching his twin's cheek.

"Yeah." An arm slid over his shoulders, mirroring his own. "Really good. You smell nice, too..." His cool nose buried itself against Iain's neck. It wasn't the cold, though, that sent a shiver through his body, nor was there any trace of sadness in the whimper that escaped him when Gawain's warm, soft-furred fingers slid around his manhood. For a moment they lingered there, held his hardening member, then they slid down to caress his tight sac.

All these things he'd done to himself... it felt so different to have someone else doing them. Moving his hand down, he stroked the firm glans between thumb and forefinger. Moaning, Gawain pulled him closer, leaned into his shoulder.

Thus supporting each other, each closed his hand around the other's waiting maleness. Yes... so nice... As one, they slid their hands downward. The quivering under his hand triggered a fresh rush of excitement, making him push a little faster; that he received the same attention in return almost made him cry out. The control he could feel he had over his brother brought with it a high he'd never felt; and similarly surrendering control, while a little bit scary, was at the same time... exhilarating.

Gawain chuckled into his throat. "I'm used to using my right," he murmured.

"Feels just fine," Iain breathed, shifting his hand a little. The movement drew a whimper from Gawain, made him tremble.

There was nothing too special about what they did. They just moved their hands up and down, every so often changing the angle or the pressure, while they hugged each other close. The only difference was that they were doing it to each other, not themselves. But that one thing changed everything. When on his own Iain would slow down, or maybe stop entirely, Gawain pushed him harder – and the rush of feelings spurred him on. Faster, harder, stronger – it just went higher and higher...

With a feeble cry, Gawain lurched up, his manhood pulsing, jets of his warm seed shooting out of him and running down over Iain's pumping hand. The strong scent of it, the feel of Gawain's convulsing body, and the sudden urgency of his touch pushed Iain over, and he too arched up and came hard.

Still awash in the tail end of their shared climax, they leaned back, lying down beside each other, each still with an arm around the other and his other hand on his twin's matted belly.

"Wow," Gawain breathed. "Can't wait..."

"Yeah. We just have to get girlfriends."

"Or boyfriends."

Iain bit his lip and thought. Well, that would be even closer to what they'd just done, wouldn't it? He smiled. "We're not picky," he agreed.

And if things on that front ever got really bad, well, they both knew what to do about it. Now they had one more option.