"I don't need you, I can do this alone."
He says that so strongly, and yet he's practically oozing sweetness through the door.
You find it hard to resist, frankly. You never thought you'd see him so worked up, let alone worked up and in your room. Your fingers are amped, nervous, pressing into the wood of the now-open door that allowed you to expose Hal where he was; a position all too flattering to yourself, if you took a moment to appreciate it.
After all, he was jerking off with one of your shirts.
You don't smirk like Hal likely anticipates. You just drink in the sight, your own alpha pheromones mixing in with the scent of omega heat. The tang of oranges was apparently too much for poor Hal, because he is forced to bite back a moan; a sound that's almost enough to push you over the edge. He's open and wanting, and despite being stubborn about it, you can see the haze and straight-up desire in those red eyes of his as he remains sprawled across the floor, trying to contain his need with one of your wifebeaters pressed to his nose as his hand furiously moves in his pants.
You can tell he needs this. That isn't even you being egotistic; the way he's completely enraptured by your half-entered presence is enough to send a chill down your spine. Does he just want your body, scent, alpha-esque comfort in the rivets of a rough heat cycle? Or does the need run deeper–? You can't tell, and frankly, you don't want to, because you're being urged forwards by some unseen hand and whoops, there goes the last iota of your self control, you've got Hal in your hands now and you're pushing the shirt away, replacing it with something a lot more substantial.
He whines again, and you can feel it against your mouth, feel the way he tugs you down when his hand finally leaves his boxers and moves to yours, not fumbling in the slightest when he goes straight for what he wants. You grunt somewhere in the back of your throat, a more primordial urge hinging on being released; but you manage to keep it in check, let the other mess with your pants while you kiss him, soaking in that sweetness. He tastes good to you, ridiculously good, the way any omega should taste and the way none of the others had. Your blood is pumping now, excitement in your veins because finally, finally you're getting to fuck someone you actually want–
No, wait, that was wrong. You shouldn't be doing this. He was your twin, for hell's sake! The same one that bugged you every second of the day, every minute you had free. There was nothing different about him now except that he was in heat. As if sensing your faltering resolve, Hal puts his hands on something less innocent, and you're choking on a groan as he sucks your tongue into his mouth.
You're a sinner and definitely going to burn for it, but you can't stop now.
