Having a wank with his brother—Charlie didn't mind it. He didn't even mind Bill's insistence that the "winner" be the last to come. But he bloody did mind it when the bastard took a handful of hair and snaked it down his naked torso to wrap it around his prick and stroke it, slowly. That wasn't wanking; that was kink, and Charlie'd never been able to last when silky red hair was involved. Bill knew that.
"Fuck!" Charlie exclaimed, coming all over himself.
Bill was hovering over him and using his hair to wipe the fluid from Charlie's chest before Charlie had finished feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm.
Fuck. Charlie's mouth opened, his lips formed the word, but no sound came out—which was fine, as Bill apparently felt the need to slide his tongue over Charlie's.
That was kink, too, or rather, a taboo, but for Bill and Charlie, others' ideas of what was wrong had always been right.