It was a quiet spring evening, the only sound coming from a shallow brook babbling off to one side and a light breeze rustling the new leaves of the forest canopy. Young green grass was already growing, tall and lush, on the bank, with tiny blue and white flower poking through, bobbing gaily in the breeze as they ducked and weaved amongst the grass like shy little sprites. The sun cast patches of light around the forest, steeply angled rays betraying the coming night as it made bits of grass practically glow and the water sparkle as it lapped and splashed along its winding way.
A bird chirruped somewhere across the stream as a patch of grass rustled unnaturally. Looking closer, were there anyone to look, one would see that there was a large amount of flattened stalks, with two young men lying inside the crushed circle, staring up through a break in the canopy at the scattered clouds above. One of them, his dark, shoulder-length hair streaked with gold, raised a cybernetic arm and pointed at one formation that formed a long, looping pattern in the sky.
"See? It looks like some sort of giant serpent," he said, his hushed voice barely more than a whisper.
"Rif, you're insane," the other man whispered in his ear, a grin creeping into his features. "It's a cloud."
Giving him an odd look, Rifler hissed, "And you have no imagination."
Jorson laughed, breaking the quiet the surrounded them as his bark echoed through the trees. "You weren't complaining about any lack of imagination last night."
Rifler didn't answer, but looked down at their feet and fought back a blush. No, Jorson did not have any need for more ingenuity, it was just that all his creativity tended to fall in one area.
Noticing the other clone's discomfort, Jorson rolled over and pecked Rifler on the cheek. "You take things way too seriously, Rif'ika. Lighten up."
Rifler curled instinctively and snuggled against Jorson, his back against Jorson's belly and chest. Jorson's arms came around and pulled Rifler closer, their hips fitting together like a puzzle as Rifler's head came back and rested against his brother's shoulder, a contented sigh escaping him. Looking up, he kissed Jorson's jaw and smiled.
"You know I'm not worth osik when it comes to doing anything but taking things serious," Rifler crooned, "it's why you love me."
Looking down at him, Jorson raised an eyebrow. "Now what ever gave you an idea like that?"
Grinning and moving before Rifler could answer, he kissed Rifler on the mouth, just a soft brush of lips against lips. Rifler smiled, kissing his lover back. Only a few moments of kissing like that, belly to back, and Rifler pulled away long enough to roll over again and prop himself up with an arm planted on the ground to either side of Jorson's head, supporting him as they began kissing more passionately.
Again, it was not long before a position-change was call for once more and Jorson heaved himself up from the ground, grappling with his smaller brother and throwing him to the ground as their kissing deepened, tongues exploring and and scattered gulps of air were sucked into oxygen-deprived lungs.
Finally, Rifler pushed Jorson away as he desperately gasped lungfuls of the warm air laden with the scent of new growth. He saw that Jorson, too, was breathing hard, his chest heaving as he held himself up off his brother with powerfully muscled arms. Still breathing heavily, Rifler nodded and Jorson lowered himself back down and kissed the smaller man again before nuzzling him and whispering something in his ear, making Rifler's eyes widen in shock.
"You wouldn't," he gasped.
Jorson smiled broadly, a feral, toothy grin that sent a chill down Rifler's spine.
Chuckling at the other man's surprise, Jorson rolled off him and lay in the grass as his fingers traced a pattern down Rifler's chest and stomach, diverting to one side and following the invisible line of his thigh where the bone would show in a front-on x-ray, making Rifler's breath catch. Jorson smiled at his reaction and tugged at the hem of Rifler's shirt. Rifler quickly gave in, struggling out of his shirt, revealing a scar-laced chest and the soft gleam of metal from his cybernetic arm, stripped of its synthflesh covering a few days before for maintenance purposes. Then, as Jorson's fingers danced over freshly bared skin, a soft whine emanated from Rifler's throat, thin and animal, like a strill's, his own hands struggling to begin ridding Jorson of his attire, as well.
The two sat up to make stripping that much easier and Rifler was just beginning to fumble with Jorson's pants, kissing and nipping at his lover when Jorson grappled him and they fell to the ground in a tangle, bared chests warm in the cool of the rapidly approaching evening as they wrestled more like innocent boys than lovers who's desires were rising as one as the sun set.
Golden rays shot through between the tree trunks, illuminating the two as the growled and bit at each other, fighting for dominance for the night, highlighting bared skin and making black tattooing stand out all the more starkly in the dimming light. Finally, Jorson pinned Rifler down to the ground, flat on his back, the other clone straddling him at the waist. Rifler went limp as he smiled, more than willing to give in, the fight more being an entertaining ritual than any real competition—Jorson was far stronger than Rifler was, unless he depended on his cybernetic arm, which could prove disastrous for both men.
"You win," Rifler breathed, his own smile brightened by the filtered sunlight.
Jorson nodded, grinning back. "Damn straight."
Before he could stop himself, Rifler quipped, "No...gay."
"Wait..." Jorson started, then stopped as he got the joke.
The two were laughing as clothes were finally dispensed of completely and Rifler was somehow gladdened that Jorson seemed happy to engage in a bit more foreplay than they usually did. Somehow, it always made things all the sweeter in the end. Standing on their knees, Jorson held Rifler from behind, nibbling at the base of his neck as Rifler leaned into him, reaching back and up with one hand to caress Jorson's neck and scalp, the other down to grip at his lover's hip, balancing him, loving every moment of sensation as it sent a tingling burn up from his belly as a fiery need welled inside him. He could feel his lover behind him, hard but resisting his own urge to just get in and get done, allowing for Rifler's more tender side, though the feeling was rapidly getting him to the same state, too, as his blood rushed to swell his member.
Rifler swallowed and gasped as Jorson fumbled behind him and penetrated. It was very hard not to whimper as Jorson's penis forced its way into him without any proper preparation of any kind. He did, however, arch his back as his lover continued to slide inside him until he could no more. The motion made Rifler lose his balance and he fell forward, catching himself with his hands and gasped again as Jorson repositioned himself slightly before bending forward to kiss the back of Rifler's shoulder blade where one of his tattoos, a dark sea creature with the GAR cog set in its center, lay like a target on his back.
Then Jorson pulled away, thrusting back a moment later, but slowly, almost delicately, trying to be careful not to hurt his brother. Slowly he began picking up speed, though the rhythm was broken and unpredictable, and Rifler began moving against him as well, aiding him as Jorson's penis, hard as a durasteel rod, repeatedly thrust itself inside him powerfully enough that Rifler's eyes began to water from the ecstasy-laced pain. The pressure inside him eventually became too much and his previously quiet moans shot to a broken, sobbing gasp mixed with a simultaneous moan of pleasure as Jorson pistoned forward harder and deeper than he had yet that night, filling Rifler almost to the breaking point as he orgasmed inside him.
Rifler abruptly found himself supporting his lover as the man's strength fled and Jorson collapsed on top of him, his breathe ragged as his chest heaved, trying to suck in enough air to calm his quivering muscles. The weight was too much and Riflers elbows buckled, send them both tumbling into the soft grass.
After a few seconds, the two were locked in each other's arms once more, lying on a natural mattress of living green as Jorson helped Rifler to peak as well by handling him much the same way as Rifler would masturbate on his own, but with the added sensation of those powerful arms being wrapped around him and soft kisses being planted on the side of his throat and jaw.
Finally, both of them spent, they lay in the glade, wrapped in each others arms, Rifler's head on Jorson's shoulder as they watched the stars as they appeared through gaps in the canopy above.
Rifler wished that moments like this would never end, but he rapidly became chilled by the night air and began to shiver against his lover, who tightened his grip.
"Maybe we should get dressed and head back," Jorson whispered.
Rifler shook his head slightly, being careful not to whack his lover in the jaw. "Dressed maybe, but I'm not ready to head back just yet," he crooned in reply, "I like it where I am now."
"Very well then," Jorson replied, kissing Rifler on the forehead.
However, neither made any move to get up and fetch their clothing, instead pulling closer to each other and falling asleep snuggled against the warmth of the other. It was a perfect night.