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Summary
“It’s only wrong if we get caught,” his twin argued. “We’re two consenting adults.”
“Except I don’t consent,” Copia snapped.
“Don’t you?”
He didn’t know where the lube came from, but two slick fingers suddenly probed his entrance. Copia quickly lowered himself to his forearms on the desk and pressed his burning face to the smooth, cool wood as he waited for his brother to start fingering him.
“If a bitch presents herself to be mounted and bred,” Perpetua murmured, massaging his hole without ever breaching it, “is she not consenting?”