'Venting Sexual Frustrations', by Thaddeus(@Thaddeus(Inkbunny) @Thaddeus888(SoFurry);
A commission for Dibs, Residential Mouse Trap(@Ordosan(Inbunny).

	In a small gray space hidden within the walls of Van's flat, barely eight feet long, four wide, and about as tall, two mice, both white, one with light green hair and the other pinkish, lay nude.  Their tails twined, they drowsed on a nest of blankets and pillows of many sizes and colors at the far end.  In the small space the dull grates and metal surfaces glittered, drafty in the low glow of a small lamp at the left of their nest, an extension cord leading out through the hinged vent.  
	Just beyond the view through the thin slats of that vent, a hammock and two bookcases obscured from direct view the rest of the multipurposed room beyond it.  From thence, two voices, Van, and Arche's, could be heard drifting through, their words muddled beyond comprehension.  Dibs started awake, and half rolled over, pinning Edgar's thin forearm beneath, and he hissed.  
	“You're on my arm, Dibbun.”
	“I'm just grabbing my phone.  And don't call me that.”
	Dibs rolled off his brother, then nestled himself back into his embrace.  Edgar's flaccid sheath nestled between his cheeks.  Sighing, he flicked through pictures of last night's rave, his erection demanding attention it seemed destined already to go without.  
	“What're you looking at?”
	“Huh?  Oh, uh, last night's rave.  I really wish you had come out of the dressing rooms for more than food.  I miss you when you hide away like that.”
	“I work in the b-background, Dibbun, you know that.”
	“Getting your groove on would do you some good.  Mingle a little!  Get pressed up in the crush of all the other bodies...”  His cock twitched against his leg.
	“What?  No way!  I'd die in such a big crowed!  I-I'm not big on the casual sex either...”
	“You're not big on sex at all.”  He remarked irritably, grinding against the lack of erection behind him.  “You really need to get out and meet some furs, though.  You can't hide away forever.”
	“Y-yes I can.  I'll hide in here with you forever.”	
	Edgar's self-assurance was both cute and arousing.  And one of these days, he would get him out there, and he would have a blast.  He knew that.  For all their differences, Dibs could feel it deep down like he knew the sky was up, though he couldn't say why.  But in the mean time, he supposed, it meant more of his cock for him.  If he could get it standing, at any rate.
	“It'll be good for you.  You know that, right?”
	“Dibbun...”
	“Fine, fine.  I'll leave it for now.  At least have sex with me?”  He looked over his shoulder and into Edgar's eyes, batting them seductively, and grinding into him again.  His tail, tucked between his legs and curled about the other jiggled his coin purse, but still his cock remained resolutely hidden.
	“N-not right n-now...”
	Dibs sighed, rolled out of the nest, and moved to the opposite end of the crawlspace.  He took his phone with him, and huddled, knees to chest, against the corner opposite the lamp.  Their tails unwound as he moved, but remained coiled at the ends like hands across the space.  Edgar had to roll onto his stomach to keep in touch.  He laid out with a book in front of him, and kicked his paws softly against the blanketed surface.  
	From his new vantage point, Dibs could hear more distinctly Arche's voice, but Van's was too low and muffled to hear more than a soft susurrus, with an occasional clear word emerging.  The sound tickled in his large ears, but he ignored them, flicking through the last few photos from the night before.  
	In a few of them, Edgar did appear, but ever was he in the background, alone, hovering by a table and grabbing food and drink, and largely disinterested with the goings on of the party goers in the foreground.  In just one did he seem to have any interest in the goings on at all.  It was the last photo of the night, and the orgy the rave had devolved into had reached its peak.  A middle-aged horse had his thick shaft thrust up in front of his muzzle, and it was spurting heavily into the air and raining semen down upon his body, while a teenage otter plowed enthusiastically at his back end.  
	Though he could not see it, he could recall the hot semen rolling down between his cheeks.  It was a mix of several furs, all of whom were somewhere in the massive fur-pile that he had floated to the top of as the crown jewel, the hat that every cock-head wore that night.  And he had himself no recollection of Edgar being present at that time; he was facing away, and his phone was across the room with his glow-ring decked pants up on the stage.  But there he was, in the background, hand inside black pants, ones that matched his, but had green glow-rings, rather than pink.  A cup was clenched in one hand, looking fit to spill, tail lifted and contorted.  His eyes, he saw as he zoomed the picture, were rolled up, and he bit his lip.  A more perfect capture of his 'O' face could not be.
	He checked who had sent it since, he couldn't recall off hand.  He didn't recognize the number, and only vaguely the name.  It came from one of the furs in the pile, a new guy he met last night.  He shot off a quick thank you for the picture; it truly was perfect, and set down his phone for a few seconds.
	Edgar lay butt up, book in front of him and turned the page.  It looked intimidating.  A fine adventure he might pick up, but a technical manual was not Dibs' own typical bedtime fare.  He shook his head at his brother's oddity, but brushed it aside to stare instead at the fine mounds of his rear.  
	Desire flared, and in his mind's eye, he imagined them clenching as they drove his hard, slick, feral bit into him.  Dibs' cock, drooping towards half-mast, rose again, foreskin peeling back and exposing the swollen pink tip.  How he craved to feel that penis spreading his cheeks apart.  To thrust himself down upon-  No.  It would do him no good to think such idle fantasies.  Maybe in a short while, when they were both more awake, he could make another attempt that would go more his way.
	Through the vent, Arche's voice drifted again.  It was more breathless than before.  Aroused from his momentary stupor, Dibs snapped to attention and listened harder.
	“Oh, d-daddy!  Right there!  Keep licking me there!”
	A note of arousal ran through him.  Girls were not his interest, but even though Arche's voice was unmistakably feminine, it was easy to imagine himself under the ministrations of Van in her stead.  He recalled back to a couple years ago, a trip to the water park that had been so fun, a short while after Arche had been adopted into the family, but before Edgar.  A moment's jealousy ran through him, conflicting with his bodies flat refusal to be anything other than horny.  
	The wet sound of tongue in pussy was more than he could take, however, and all other feelings fell away.  His penis rose to attention again, harder than ever, and a drop of pre beaded on the pink flesh.  Turning somewhat, he placed a hand to the wall and leaned in towards the vent, while he toyed with his foreskin, trying to catch more of the sound of oral, and imagined himself in Arche's place, or at least participating along side her.  
	Fingers closed around Dibs prick.  They were cool and soft, and not his own.  He jerked back, knocking his head on the low ceiling, filling it with a light, metallic rumble that drowned out the voices.  Very nearly his penis wilted to nothing, but the massaging fingers kept him from going limp entirely.
	“Edgar!” he exclaimed, relaxing.  “I thought you weren't interested!”
	“I'm not.  Not really.  But I can't stand to see you struggle either.”  Without comment or complaint, his penis rose once more from the brink of death, firm and proud in the light grasp of his brother's fuzzy hand.  For several minutes, with nary a word, he was masturbated, while they listened to the sultry words and breath moans of father and sister in the room beyond.
	In great need, his cock twitched in the gentle hand holding him, but relaxation would not come; the metal pressed cold and hard against his back and rear, tail contorted in a great knot between himself and the wall, and he could not cum.  No matter how close he came, climax remained just out of reach.  It was pleasurable all the same, sitting on the edge, and so Dibs allowed Edgar to work uninterrupted for a time.
	Not long after however, Edgar let go of his penis.  It bobbed and twitched, glans shiny and red.  It was slick, but dry of seed.
	“It's not like you to take so long to cum,” He said, gently working the pre over his cock-head with a forefinger.  “Is everything okay?”
	“Maybe you should suck on it.  If that doesn't work, I know what will.”
	Dispassionately, Edgar looked him in the eyes, but leaned in, muzzle open, tongue out.  He was not enamored of either idea, but his mouth, small, warm and wet, touched his rod anyway.  He licked once, long and slow from under his balls to the tip of his rod, then swallowed it whole.
	Suction surrounded him; it filled his ears, rising from between his legs, and drifting in through the grate, but also the softness his brother's muzzle caressing his member.  Edgar's tongue coiled serpent-like around his member, gripping the head of his cock in a half crescent, and slid down to his base, and nursed harder.  His cheeks caved, and Dibs could feel them from the inside.  And still that tongue slithered and caressed, coming up now along the seam again, and running along the ridge under his glans.  
	Dibs sighed, and relaxed against the wall, but he could not make himself more comfortable.  His tail cramped, bent against it, and his butt cheeks flattened, bone pressing through the flat, unpadded fur of his behind.  Even in the ever increasing vigor of Edgar's tongue, which darted here and there, dived out to lap at his balls, then back in to wrap around the base of his cock, then rubbing over his sensitive tip, the fight with his growing discomfort grew and put down his pleasure.  With every passing moment, orgasm seemed further away, not closer.
	In spite of the diligence of his brother, Dibs went limp, and Edgar spat the flaccid member from his muzzle.  “What's the matter, Dibbun?”
	“Uncomfortable.  Come on, have sex with me.  And stop calling me that”
	“Do I have to?”
	“No...  But,”
	“I'm gonna play with the broken amp then.”  Irritably, Dibs sighed, and popped open the vent.  Edgar spoke, but it went unacknowledged.  He had already slipped out, and the vent closed behind him.
	Beyond the confines of the vent, the bright light blinded him, stabbing into his sensitive eyes like knives.  Dibs swayed, dazed, reaching out for the hammock.  His fingers grazed it, blindly snatching, but he could not get a hold, and he over balanced.  He lucked out, that it swung close as he tripped, and he fell partially onto it.  It held him up for a moment, breaking his fall, then his momentum carried him from it and spilled him to the ground.
	“You okay Dibbun?!”  Edgar asked, vent clanging open, his head popping out from inside the vent.  
	From across the room, a naked Arche and Van, crotches dripping wet and stinking of sex came to see the fuss.  “What happened?”
	“Tripped.”
	“I can see that.  Do you need a hand?”  Van knelt beside Dibs without waiting for an answer.
	“N-no.  Just a glass of water.”  Edgar nodded, withdrawing head and shoulders back into the vent, and Van held out his hand.  Archie stood at his shoulder.  
	His eyes followed his father's crotch as it descended downwards, closer and closer to eye level.  He was still erect, and was slick from base to tip.  He could smell the pussy juices from where he was, and it made him mildly unhappy.  
	“I said I'm fine.  I just wasn't careful getting out of the vent.”
	Van hesitated, squatting, uncertain, then straightened back up.  “If you say so.”  He turned Arche around, and pushed her back off in the direction of the bed, and followed after her swaying, bushy tail.  Silently, alone in the corner, Dibs continued to fume and curse his carelessness while his eyes adjusted to the bright light.  
	When the room stopped spinning, and the afterimages had cleared, he rose to his feet carefully, tail wrapping around the hammock support for good measure, and made his way across the room.  Once he was sure of his footing, he pushed the hammock out of the way, and looked around to where the bed lay, where the sound of sex was already rising again.  
	Van, poised over Arche, had his hips between her raised, wide-spread legs, speared into her with the full weight of his lower body.  His tail wagged and swayed, shoulders bunched, his firm glutes clenching mightily with each meeting of their pelvises.  Her small breasts, not yet fully developed, bounced with the force of each push.  Just audible was her whispering 'oh', winding long and soft, then peaking at the bottom of each, and the sticky wetness of penis sliding in and out of a tight pussy.  Dibs looked away, a trill of jealousy of his sister, and desire for his father quickening his heartbeat, simultaneously pushing his dick up, and spirits down.
	In truth, he didn't really know what he thought he was going to do beyond the realm of his vent hideaway.  Dibs had only exited in frustration, not with motivation, and now he stood on the opposite side of the hammock, but partially hidden from view as he watched by the bookcase that stood between him and the flats' only bed.  Sex still dominated his mind, and he stood mesmerized and disturbed by his witnessing of the events transpiring on the bed, feeling powerless to look away.  More vividly than ever, he wished that Van was fucking him, and not his sister, as it once was.
	Behind him, the sound of electronics being broken apart and pages being flicked through at high speed got his stomach in a twist.  Dibs cursed Edgar's lack of interest.  
	He padded along the left wall, past the other bookshelf, away from father and sister, and into the kitchen for a drink of water to settle the squirming.  The weight of a full glass in his hand, the cool water in his throat as he leaned against the sink, and firm wood of the counter against his shoulders helped.  He supposed that he was still grateful that Edgar was often willing to set aside his disinterest to help him and his perpetual horniness.  But there was just no satisfaction to be had without a good fuck.  
	Refilling his cup, Dibs took another few sips, then put the glass in the dishwasher.  Feeling more relaxed, he returned to his hideaway, coming in a moment to his foe, the hammock, which he bested easily this time, and knelt at the vent.  He could see in through the slats Edgar, screwdriver in hand, dissembling the housing of the amp's power unit on the floor about him.  At his side, the technical manual lay open.  
	For a while, Dibs knelt there, taking some pleasure in watching Edgar's muzzle, twisted in concentration, fingers walking across pages, searching out the instructions to fix whatever piece was busted.
	“Dibbun, would you go to my toolbox and grab one of the resistors from the small box on the left side, between the box of quarter inch screws, and the baggy of red LED lights?”
	“How long have you known I was here?” he asked, startled.
	Edgar looked up, eyes narrowed, peering through the slats, fingers still twisting at an unseen part.  “Since you passed the hammock.  You cast a shadow, you know.  Light passes in through the vent, not out.”
	“Oh.  Uh, right.”  Sheepishly, Dibs looked away from his brothers curiously intense gaze.  But when he looked back, it was gone, replaced with the usual placid one.  He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had been seeing things.  He shook his head and trotted back across the room, and cautiously approached the bed where Van and Archie fucked with great enthusiasm.  
	His sister looked out of it, and he could see why; the bed around their mashed crotches was saturated with girl cum, and as he watched, she writhed silently beneath Van, vulva quivering around his thick shaft as she came again.  Cloudy white semen leaked out between those lips, streaking her thin feminine ejaculate, and Dibs pursed his lips in a moue of distaste.  That cum was wasted on her.  So much better off it would be if it were inside of himself instead.  He needed it more than she did.
	Scuttling over to the dresser, trying not to think about what was happening behind him, he opened the tallboy's large wooden doors, crouched, and pulled out the drawer that was devoted to Edgar's meager possessions.  Three pairs of cub-sized pants and four shirts.  More electronics, mostly small computer parts, and his phone filled the front half of the space.  Against the back of the drawer, sat a long red toolbox, a gift from him, Van, and Arche for their joint sixteenth birthday.  It shined as it did the day they bought it.  He pulled it forward, and rummaged through its contents in search of the resistors.  It overflowed, packed with well organized tools, baggies, and small boxes of all kinds, and he had already forgotten which side of it he had been told to look.  Grabbing a box at random, Dibs searched, looking at each thing in turn, putting each back without thought of it's proper place, irritation mounting as his quarry continued to elude.  And ever behind him, Van and Arche's climaxes spiked his arousal and brought his simmering lust to a boil.
	Dibs picked up another little bag.  It was the red LED lights.  He recalled Edgar's words.  Triumphantly, he grabbed a resistor from the box next to it, knocking it over in the process.  Thrusting the drawer shut, he hustled gleefully away, escaping the ambient sound of sex that did not include him.
	But he did not escape it.  At the grate, he could still hear them, and his prick was rock hard.  Whatever else the situation surrounding Van's dick, he couldn't get it out of his head, and his short, narrow cock  waved and bounced as he headed back, the exposure driving into him the reminder, as if life were rubbing it in his face, that he had not yet gotten off that morning.  
	Edgar held the grate open and helped him scramble in one handed, and Dibs pushed the resistor into his hand.  He slipped, and his face went right into his brothers crotch.  The scent of his balls and nearness and warmth of them overrode everything else.  Pride could be placed in him for resisting, by one who knew the heat of his lusts, but now it took over.  Whatever coolness of mind the water had given him had corroded, and he was ready to fuck.  He took the momentum he had, and let it carry Edgar onto his back, and took a hand to each of his butt-cheeks. 
	The world spun, then stilled.  Dibs was on his knees, butt up in the air, tail coiling over his shoulder to meet with his brother's, tongue reaching in between the sheath pressed to his lips and Edgar's soft member.  Edgar's back was pressed into the floor, head just short of the blankets of their hodgepodge nest, his hips pinned while his brother nursed on him like a starved baby on a nipple.
	Dibs could see that Edgar was not so into it, but he suckled anyway, tongue digging deep.  The rod inside stiffened, and his brother looked away, embarrassed.  
	“D-Dibbun... A-ah!”
	“Shush.”  He whispered back, unwilling to suffer further objections.  He closed his lips about the emerging shaft again, and suckled on the sweet thing until it was long and proud, tip pressed past his gag reflex, and into his throat.  Dibs' eyes watered, and breathing became difficult, but he sucked greedily, massaging Edgar's reluctant cock with the squeezing of his throat, each swallow pulling it further into his gullet, until he couldn't breathe.  
	It felt like choking on a too thick noodle, and coughing it up made him tremble.  Dibs was grateful of the feral shape it had.  It was long, yes, but also narrow, and tapered to a slender tip.  Perfect for deep throating, or scratching the deep itches he had.  
	“Oh-oh, D-Dibbun!”  As the tip passed his lips, a thin squirt of pre shot across his tongue, sweet as fruit, and addictive as the deep throb of a loud bass.  Dibs savored it, swirling it about in his muzzle.  
	“Get on the nest,”  he ordered, swallowing it, and pointing.  “I'm done being put off.”
	Edgar hastily scooted back on his hands, butt dragging along the floor.  
	Between his legs, Dibs followed on his knees, prick pointing almost straight up it was so stiff, pre dripping across the top of his glans, to the ridge of his retracted foreskin, which pressed against the back of it.  It spread out, and trickled underneath his shaft and down to his small, taut balls.  
	The moment Edgar's butt was positioned over the blankets, Dibs launched forward, his light frame pressing down on his brother, cocks together, a hand down to pinch a nipple, the other to support himself.  
	“You gonna fuck me, Bro?”
	“D-do I have to?”
	“Yes.”
	“T-then yes.”
	“Good.”
	A coy smile tickled Edgar's lips.  The usual disinterest pushed aside.  Dibs thought it was his take charge attitude that did it.  Whatever the reason, there was never a time after he pounced that his brother didn't soon willingly yield.
	Trapped between their bodies, their cocks rubbed, and Dibs ground into it.  The firm flesh of another member pressed against his intimate parts was sublime, second only to the feel of a thick spear spreading his hole open.  Edgar ground back, hesitantly following his brother's lead, and their pre spread, matting their crotches, spreading to slicken both their penises.  
	Dibs bit his lip.  He was close already.  And though he longed to get off, as soon as could be, he didn't want it to be like this.  He sat back, and gave Edgar a little room, squatting, the edge of his large, circular ears bent against the roof of the vent.  Faintly, the sound of semi-incestuous sex still going drifted to him, and it made him shiver, and his heart beat faster with the fires of his unquenchable thirst.  
	He took the long, thin, warm, wet, pink member in his hand and gripped it gently.  Edgar gasped.  He squeezed again, and got another.  A drop of pre beaded on the surface, balanced precariously at his urethral opening.  Dibs shifted forward an inch, and held the prick up against his body.  Always he marveled that his brother's cock was longer than his, and ever so slightly thicker.  It was slick and smooth from base to tip, so unlike his, dry and fleshy, with a soft, sensitive, and very pronounced head.  He would be jealous of it, if it was not his to ride at whim, and took pleasure in the confidence of his possession of it.  
	He shuffled forward, shoulders hunched, butt raised, and held his tail aloft, supporting the limp weight of Edgar's.  Head and shoulders pressed against the roof of the vent, Dibs angled his hips forward, and grabbed his brother's penis.  
	Edgar's hands lay clasped and twisting on his chest, softly whimpering, trapped somewhere between desire and unwanting.  His chest rose rapidly, and sped along faster and shallower in anticipation as Dibs angled him to meet his needy tunnel.  
	It pressed against his anus now; the narrow tip poked at it and slipped in effortlessly, accustomed to larger and more shapely shafts than this.  The droplet of pre that clung there spread across the wrinkles of the clenched muscle, then sank in.  
	Dibs moaned, and Edgar whimpered louder.  The entry was easy, and wet, and the sound was lewd.  It twined with the soft moans echoing in the background of his awareness, Van and Arche in their endless screwing.  And all the while, down and down he went on it, until cheeks met hips, and he rested, brother pinned under his tiny weight, both powerless and unwilling to throw him off.  
	But his eyes were all screwed up, shut tight, and he bit his lip; Edgar was wanting this, even if he hated it still.  He could feel it, body quivering under him.  It was electric and delightful.  The feeling was full, his empty core warmed by the presence of him, seeping into him, banishing the cold pit of frustrated lusts and embarrassment.  
	With a first, authoritative rise, a test of the ride to come, he dropped down, light as a feather.  With exquisite softness Edgar's flesh teased out, bending and swaying with the motion of Dibs hips, then firmly back in as he lowered, silky smooth and squishing loudly.  
	“Y-yeah...  That's what I need!”  Dibs sighed, clenching hard around the base of his brothers dick.  Edgar squeaked submissively, and it sent a thrill through his being.  Away from a hot rave, where vibrant music and big dicked furs, where his lusts could be satisfied at whim, the feeling of being in control of a single partner heated his soul.  
	Setting his hands, one to each shoulder, Dibs dug his fingers into Edgar's fine fur and rose again.  Higher, faster, gripping with his strong anal muscle, he plunged back down with great force.  His brother held his breath, worried of squeaking again, but it burst from him comically; both of them laughed at the flatulent noise.  And Dibs leaned in to him, and kissed him lightly on the mouth, taking control again from the humor.  His needs would not be put off.    
	Up went his hips, and tightly his tail twined closer with Edgar's.  Mouths opened, their tongues wrapped together, one always leading, submissive to the other, a slave of its desires.  Dibs could smell faintly the dry, static-y, electrical parts and oil clinging to his cheek.  A scent as startlingly arousing to him as the thick, pungent scent of weed smoke at a rave, and almost as addicting to him as the smell and taste of semen.
	The soft rocking of hips gave way to an intense jack-hammering, raising his rump high, threatening to let Edgar's cock slip out, a situation he begged him to not let happen.  A dreadful tease it was, but more for the thrill of being penetrated was it perpetrated than a childish whim to get back.  On each rise, he came to the barely defined head of that narrow rodent dick, and held it in only by the powerful gripping of his ass, clenching tight around it.  Only then could Dibs feel the powerful throbbing, his brothers balls churning with a load of seed for him.  And on every down stroke, he came with authority, a claiming so complete that Edgar moaned for it, wanted it, was enthralled by it, and caved in to it.
	“D-Dibb-un...”
	Dibs came to a sudden halt, planting his hips on him, not moving, and relaxed.  In the stillness, he could feel again the pulsing member, could feel it strain and wiggle deep in his core and pressing on his prostate.   He could feel the tensing of his own too.  But it passed after in a moment.
	Taking shaft in hand, he stroked it, looking Edgar in the eyes, pushing his foreskin over his head, then pulling it back completely.  Pre dripped thickly, flecked with traces of white onto his belly, where it sank like molasses into his fur.  He slid forward on his shaft, which stroked past his prostate now with every millimeter it moved and made him tingle from toe tip to the hair on his head, fluffing out like a green haze erupting from his scalp.
	“Wh-what're you doing, D-Dibbun?”  Dibs didn't answer.  He squeezed on his brother's penis, holding it in as he reached as far as he could without the tip popping free of his tunnel.  Furiously he tugged on his cock, masturbating himself to the edge, then backed off, then up to the edge again.  He ached, and he lusted, until he couldn't take it anymore.  He moaned, and it echoed, and dimly in his awareness that his father and sister quieted.  Two long lines of thick, virile semen spewed forth, glazing his brothers face, from forehead to lips, then from below the left eye to chin.  A third and forth drizzled onto Edgar's chest and pooled, too solid to sink in, glistening on his fur in the dim lamp light, until his hand wrested free and swiped it from his face.
	“D-Dibbun..!”
	“Haha, you like it!  Don't lie!”
	Embarrassed, Edgar licked what he could from his muzzle and the palm of his hand, turning his head to the right to hide his guilt, ears flat against the scalp, concealing the blush that reddened them.  But Dibs stopped him from turning away completely, looking him in the eye while he cleaned his face of seed.  
	Pleased with his work, glowing white hot with afterglow, and ready to go again, he sat back on Edgar's member, oohing and ahhing covering the softer gasp of his brother as his sensitive hole was re-penetrated.  
	Dibs picked up hard and fast, thighs rested after the short break.  His hands however were tired, and he grabbed Edgar's moistened palm, placed it over his erection, and curled his fingers around it.  He jerked his sensitive cock as hard as he could, trying not to let the pleasure of the tight orifice wrapped around him stop him in the task that had been handed to him.
	He rode harder and harder, luxuriating in the raw sex, the soft hand on his dick, and desperate to be filled with a load of cum.  The vent grew hot from their twining, grinding, and straining bodies.  A drop of sweat trickled under Dibs' fur, from neck to waist.  Lust and sensitivity rose.  Edgar's was lost in a haze of pleasure, but his eyes focused through it.  Soft whimpers rose from him too, and were he listening, he would've found them pleasing.  
	Every jab into his prostate made Dibs exalt, and his penis surged.  He clenched, and pushed his hips forward and dropped down, tiring from the strain, and Edgar took up the struggle, pushing deeply, and touch that special spot.  He let himself go, relaxed as the precipice of his second orgasm welled up.  
	Warmth filled and spread deep into him, from ring to core, soothing as balm on a burn, as Edgar loosed his seed him.
	“Fill me up, Edgar!  Flood me with you cum!”  Dibs moaned whorishly, ejaculating weakly over his chest, trailing into dribbles, a white slick that covered Edgar's hand, and trickled down his wrist.  Every muscle locked, holding him in position by the invisible power of his pleasure.  
	Orgasm subsided and released him from its hold, legs turning to jelly, and he slumped nervelessly over his brother.  His cock tingled as it rubbed, stiff, but finally softening, in the puddle of jizz, sliding through the semen slicked fur and making him shiver.  From his behind, he could feel Edgar, his long, thin member delivering a last hot, slimy shot of wonderful seed as it softened.  It felt an age in his tired, overstimulated afterglow.  The silky smooth feel of it gliding against his intimate flesh was an experience all its own that brought him quivering to the edge of another climax.
	The panting in his ear was light and pleasant, and Dibs nuzzled softly into Edgar's neck while they caught their breath.  The moment that his brother popped free set him behind; though it was barely distinguished, he could feel every nuance of it, the slight curvature of it, and it made him gasp and clench involuntarily the same as any horse, or cat.  His anus gaped narrowly, and a singular drop of semen trickled down his taint.  It felt good while it warmed, but it cooled and he grew uncomfortable.  A fresh fucking would fix that, he thought, but quelled it for the moment.  Every move felt wrong, each muscle like rubber, as it should be after good sex, and he turned himself upon Edgar.  Spreading his cheeks apart, he pushed his ass into his muzzle, and nuzzled at his brothers sheath.  
	Edgar complained, but Dibs didn't give in, and soon his soft tongue pressed against his taint and licked away the cold seed.  It traveled then up to his hole, where it slipped inside him and explored with an enthusiasm that betrayed the initial hesitance.  He bit his lip and murred happily while he was reamed, then returned his attention to his brothers sheath, where only the glistening, white stained head still peeked.
	It was so narrow at the tip, almost just his urethral opening at the point.  Sperm clung there, and another drop of the wonderful, addicting substance leaked as it continued its lazy retreat.  Grabbing Edgar's balls and fondling them gently, Dibs was rewarded with a gust of hot breath on his chill rear, and took the tip into his muzzle to suckle for the last few drops.  
	Sweet and salty, with a hint of bitter after, it delighted the tongue.  He sucked and tongued the turgid flesh, exploring contours so familiar and yet so different and strange to him.  Dibs put forth his best effort to get Edgar hard again, but no amount of experience could reawaken it.  He probed into his sheath for every last trace of cum he could get, and when he could find no more, gave a last rim to its opening.
	Turning around again, he laid, tired and sore, to the side of his brother, pressing his penis, still at half mast, to his outer thigh, grinding through his fine fur, and leaned in to kiss Edgar.  Stronger than when he had taken the tip of his penis into his muzzle, the flavor of cum blossomed on his tongue.  Deep and forceful he invaded, collecting the last traces.  There was not much, and Dibs was not satisfied with what he got.  But for the moment, he was content to lay still and feel the slow trickle of seed spreading inside.  His bother's fur brushed lightly against his penis as he lazily dry-humped and fingered the opening of his sheath.
	After a few minutes, Edgar rolled away from Dibs' incessant rubbing and grinding, and he felt chilly in the absence of his body heat.  
	“Wanna fuck again?” he asked, grabbing for his hand as he moved away.
	“Dibbun!  We just did!”
	“I know what we just did.  I'm asking you to fuck me again.”
	“I don't think I could.”  Dibs grumbled, and sat up.  He could feel the edges of his sphincter rubbing together, but no more semen dripped out.
	“Blow me then?”
	“D-Dibbun, come on, c-can't you give it a rest?  I don't want to, and couldn't if I d-did.”
	Dibs harrumphed, and untwined his tail from his brother's, and dropped his hand.  “Fine then.  I'm hungry anyways.  Guess I'll get some lunch.”
	He turned and crawled to the vent and pushed it open, but the way out was blocked by a wall of tawny fur.
	“I hear you're looking for lunch, Dibs,” Van said, cock pushing into the vent, wet and rank with the scent of Arche's pussy.  “What a coincidence, I happen to be looking for a blowjob.”