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She sneaks into his bed, the chill air from the covers being lifted reaching him a second before she drapes her already-naked body across his chest. He's not asleep yet. She knew he wouldn't be. They have the same sleeping schedule, reinforced by years of strict discipline, after all. He'd been drifting, his mind settling to slip into unconsciousness, but the feeling of her warm, bare skin pressed up against him everywhere brings the world back into sharp focus.
She's dropping hot, biting kisses up the side of his neck. She likes to bite, his sister, and there's a real danger she'll leave a livid trail of bruises high enough they're impossible to hide. It wouldn't be the first time. But he can't deny her anything. Doesn't want to when it feels this good.
Her thighs are bracketing his hips, and her pussy is pressed right up against where his cock is already starting to take an interest, filling and hardening beneath her. Even through his boxers he can feel that she's absolutely dripping wet. She's all slick and needy, hips rolling restlessly against him like she just can't help herself. Like she's already in the middle of something.
He smiles in the dark, hands coming up to grip her hips, not to stop her, just to feel the way her beautiful body moves against his, needing it so much. Needing him. "Were you touching yourself, Zhan-er?"
"Mn," she agrees. "That fancy vibrator you gave me feels so good in my pussy, but not as good as you."
A shudder runs through him at the thought of her fucking herself open with the toy he bought for her and then crossing the hallway, slick and dripping and ready to take his cock. He's fully hard now, and he raises his hips to rub that hardness against the soft, wet heat of her pussy.
She moans in approval. "Yes," she says. "Ready for you, gege."
His dick twitches. It's a good thing she never calls him gege outside of the bedroom, because he's so conditioned he thinks he'd get hard immediately, no matter where they were, or with whom.
She never called him that when they were younger, either—always xiongzhang or Huan-ge—such a quiet and serious child, feeling that such informal terms were beneath her dignity.
Which had made it all the more shocking when she'd said it the first time they did this. In the weeks following her eighteenth birthday, she'd been dropping increasingly less subtle hints that he'd been trying, desperately, to ignore, eventually resorting to outright dirty talk.
And when even that didn't work, she had finally crawled straight into his lap, holding herself with impeccable muscle control a spare few inches from just grinding down into his lap. She'd pulled her top off over her head, baring her magnificent breasts, just barely contained by her bra, a frothy thing made of sky blue lace and mesh. Her nipples were clearly visible through the sheer fabric, pebbled and erect, and she was nearly spilling out of the delicate demi cups.
His hands had moved without his permission, eager to touch, until he caught himself and froze, hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
"It's okay, gege," she'd said, gold eyes molten. "I know you want me. I want you too. I need you." As she spoke, she'd taken one of his shaking hands in both of hers and brought it to her breast, holding it there with his palm cupping her fullness.
"Gege," she'd said again, a faint tremor in her voice. "Please."
He had groaned in defeat and brought his other hand up, feeling the soft weight of them, running his thumbs over her nipples. She'd let out a little whimper, trembling all over with the force of her desire. It was a heady thing, to be wanted that much. It made him feel powerful—and terrified.
He had slid his hands up around her neck, drawing her down into a kiss, and she had responded so beautifully. She had opened under him with a sound that was nearly a sob, hands coming up to cling to him in turn. As he plundered her mouth, she had given up on self control and allowed herself to sink fully into his lap. He groaned at the contact, and she sucked in a shaky breath when she felt how hard he was for her.
She had rolled her hips against him, both of them moaning at the contact, even through their clothes. "Please," she said again, mumbling against his lips between kisses. "Fuck me, gege. Need you inside me, please."
She had sounded agonized, and he hadn't had it in him to deny her anymore, to keep making them both miserable with frustrated wanting.
So he'd taken her to bed, and laid her out, and worshipped her like the precious thing she was. He'd nearly choked on the guilt when she cried as he entered her for the first time. He had done his best to prepare her thoroughly, making her come on his tongue and stretching her open with his fingers. But there was only so much he could do to ease the pain of his big cock opening up her virgin cunt for the first time.
He'd almost put a stop to it then and there, but when he'd bottomed out and gone still with his length fully sheathed inside her, she had blinked up at him, her lashes wet with tears, and smiled like the sun. So he'd kissed the salt from her cheeks and waited until she adjusted to the fullness inside her. And then, at her word, he'd fucked his beautiful little sister into the mattress while she arched and moaned and begged beneath him.
As the elder sibling, it was his job to take care of her, and he felt the duty more keenly than most oldest children, with no parents to share in the task from such an early age. And so he tried to be everything she needed. Maybe if their lives had been different, "everything" wouldn't have stretched to include this, but they would never know.
He kept telling himself he had to be the responsible one. That caring for his sister meant being strong enough for both of them to keep from crossing that line. But there was only so long he could deny what they both wanted so desperately. And she'd made it more than clear that she was sure about her decision.
"The first time I ever touched myself, I imagined it was you," she had whispered at one point during her weeks-long war of attrition. "I always want it to be you."
He'd shuddered and tried valiantly not to get hard from just a few whispered words. It helps, a little, to know that she had wanted him then, had looked at him and thought something more than just "brother" at the same time he'd been looking at her in new ways as well.
He had felt so guilty back then. When she was fourteen, and he was twenty, she'd hit her growth spurt. Seemingly overnight, she wasn't his shy, awkward baby sister anymore. She was a quiet, graceful young woman. By her fifteenth birthday, she was only maybe half a head shorter than him, and her figure had broadened and softened from the sharp lines of adolescence. He itched to touch—to feel the plush give of her newly mature body under his hands—her shapely hips and thighs, the tempting curve of her ass, her breasts. God, nothing was worse than her breasts.
He constantly caught himself staring at her chest and had to rip his eyes away, hoping no one had noticed. (She had, as she told him later. But fortunately their uncle seemed to have survived in blissful ignorance.) He felt especially guilty about it because she'd filled out so fast that she'd been sore with it for months. She was constantly shifting uncomfortably and rubbing at them, trying to ease the discomfort. He'd been half crazy with the desire to do it for her, to soothe her pain with his hands and mouth. Instead, he'd bought her a heating pad and an economy size bottle of pain killers, and spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time furtively jerking off in his own room alone, trying and failing to imagine anything other than his sister's body.
After they'd been together for a little while, and his obsession with her large, gorgeous breasts was embarrassingly obvious—his eyes, his hands, his mouth always returning to them—she'd confessed that she felt self-conscious about the stretch marks that spread in silvery lines over her skin from when they developed so quickly. He had very honestly told her that they were gorgeous, she was gorgeous, and there was nothing he'd change about her. Then he'd proven it by playing with them for as long as she'd let him, licking and sucking and massaging their softness until she was a pleading, desperate mess beneath him, begging him to fuck her already. She'd been so worked up she'd come nearly the second he touched her clit, screaming and arching up off the bed while he watched in awe. Then she'd come again on his cock. She was so perfect. He knew then he'd never be able to let her go. Not unless it was what she wanted.
But thus far, her desire for him has only grown. As has his for her. At 24, her figure is a little fuller than it was at 18, and he delights in the soft, generous curves of her body. He runs his hands along them now, sliding his palms from her hips, over the dip of her trim waist and up to the plump curve of her breasts where they're pressed against his chest. She shivers and whines at the light touch, just a tease with how worked up she is.
She pushes herself up and fumbles between them until she can work his cock free of his boxers, just managing to get the waistband down below his balls before she's gripping him and sinking down, taking all of him into her wet warmth immediately. God, she really is all opened up and ready for him tonight.
Normally, when she hasn't been fucking herself with a toy beforehand, he still has to be careful and give her a moment to stretch and accommodate his girth. She is always eager for him, but he is—very large. And it takes some warming up before he can fuck her hard the way he wants—the way she wants him to. He doesn't mind being patient. He would never want to hurt his sister in any way.
But, nonetheless, it is searingly hot to plunge into her this way. To realize that she can take whatever he wants to give her with no waiting. And so they don't wait. She works her hips, rising up and sinking down with desperate abandon. He grips her hips again and rises up to meet her each time, the sound of their skin slapping together filthy and loud in the quiet bedroom.
Moans and praises and curses are falling from her lips, words flowing freely from her in these moments the way they rarely do otherwise. It's fast and hard. He loses himself in the devastating slick heat of her body enveloping him, while she falls apart above him. Within a few minutes, they're both close. She shifts to balance on one hand so she can get the other on her clit, rubbing frantically.
She comes with an almost pained cry, her cunt tightening up and pulsing around him as she shakes through her orgasm. The overwhelming sensation of feeling her pleasure from the inside sends him over the edge too, gripping her hips and holding her against his body while he releases deep inside her. She moans again, and her cunt twitches weakly a few more times at the feel of him filling her up.
She collapses against his chest, and they both catch their breath as they come down for a few minutes, trading lazy, open-mouthed kisses. Eventually she shifts to the side, his soft cock slipping out of her as she moves. He would offer to clean her up, but he knows well enough by now that she loves the feeling of his come dripping out of her. And he can't deny he loves to leave her messy and marked, his claim on her hot and sticky between her thighs in the aftermath.
After a while of quiet cuddling, he gently pushes her over onto her back. She had come in here hungry for his cock, and he'd been more than happy to indulge her. But there's more that he wants, always greedy for her, wanting to touch and claim every inch of her.
He drops his head to take her nipple in his mouth, suckling at her as hungrily as if she could feed him this way in truth.
That thought skates very close to the line of his most forbidden fantasy, the one where her belly is round with the child that he fucked into her, and her breasts are swollen and heavy with milk. He tries not to indulge those thoughts too often. It's like a Pandora's box that he has to keep a lid on, lest all the things he can't let himself want with her escape to torment them both. He doesn't regret choosing her, if it had even been a choice. He could never let her go. But there are avenues that are closed to them because they've chosen each other—to be this for each other.
But it's easy to chase such hypothetical thoughts away, letting them dissipate like smoke on the wind, when his sister is warm and solid and real underneath his hands and mouth. When she's sighing and arching up against him, offering her body for the taking. And take he does.
He suckles one nipple and then the other, pinching and teasing the other so she's overwhelmed with sensation. He cups her breasts in both his hands, pushing them up and together so he can bury his face in her softness, a true indulgence since he knows that it does nothing much for her. But she's always happy to let him play with her, at least until she grows impatient and needy for him to touch her with purpose.
Since she's had his cock once already tonight, she allows his aimless nuzzling for quite a while. He happily breathes in the scent of sweat and sandalwood and feels a deep contentment wash over him. When she finally starts shifting restlessly and making small sounds of wanting again, he rewards her patience with several sharp, lingering bites that are sure to bruise the tender flesh of her breasts, already imagining how they'll stand out vivid and purple against her delicate, pale skin.
She hisses and moans, arching up to allow and encourage the rough treatment.
Once he's satisfied with his work, he finally kisses his way down her stomach. She lets her thighs fall open, eagerly inviting his attentions when he mouths over her mound, inhaling the scent of of sex and slick. It's intoxicating.
He spreads her open and feels saliva fills his mouth at the sight of her glistening folds, her cunt already tender and well used, dripping with her own slick and the remains of his come. He groans and leans in, taking her gorgeous pussy in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. He laps at her clit, relishing the way her breathing gets shaky and uneven with it. Ever so carefully, he grazes his teeth over that bundle of nerves, and she yelps, hips jerking off the bed, so he has to lay an arm across her hips to keep her still. He repeats the move a few more times, licking and sucking in between so she never knows when it will happen. She's panting and moaning above him, and he feels drunk on her pleasure.
When she's tense underneath him, breaths gone high and reedy so he can tell she's close, he takes his mouth away. She whines in frustration at being denied while he moves down to lick at her cunt. He traces around her entrance with the tip, and she shivers. Then he plunges inside. He greedily laps up the slick that is pouring out of her, leaving her thighs shiny and sticky with it. His face is covered in it, he knows. He loves it. To be so surrounded by her, to be allowed to taste her very center.
When he's had his fill, he finally closes his lips around her clit again, sucking hard, alternating with swift, skillful flicks of his tongue. He plunges two fingers into her cunt, fingerfucking her fast and hard from the start. She's already so loose and warmed up, there's no need to tease either of them.
The moans and cries that fall from her lips are heady and intoxicating. They're like music. He listens to their rhythm and plays her body accordingly. He drives her up and over the edge of climax with no mercy or hesitancy whatsoever. She comes on a punched-out groan, hips tensing and trembling as she squirts, soaking his mouth and fingers with it.
He laps that up eagerly too, groaning where his face is pressed against her, thankful for being fed so well.
He's hard again by now, so he pulls away, wiping the worst of the moisture from his face onto her inner thigh. The muscles there give a weak twitch at being so used. Then he pushes her legs up and apart and settles between them, sinking into her cunt once again.
She cries out and throws her head back as he fills her, mumbling nonsense, far past words now. As is he. They are only pleasure and sensation now. She wraps her legs around his waist as he fucks her, keeping him close.
He lowers his head to take her lips in a deep, filthy kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She moans into it.
This time, their coupling is slow and intense, and it lasts a long time. The edge has been taken off for both of them, and they're able to draw out their pleasure, moving together like they were made for it. He thinks they were.
Finally, their urgency builds, ratcheting the tension higher and higher. He fucks into her faster, skin slapping together wetly on every stroke. She uncrosses her ankles from behind his back and lets him throw her knees up over his shoulders instead, so he can pound into her even deeper. He's punching little "ah, ah, ah" sounds out of her with every thrust now, her voice climbing in pitch and desperation.
"Gege," she finally gasps. "Please, gege, I'm so—I need—"
He knows what she needs. He reaches between their bodies and thumbs at her clit in time with his thrusts. It's barely any time at all before she's arching underneath him, going tense and still as she comes on a near-silent cry.
When she drops back to the bed, boneless, he keeps fucking into her hard, chasing his own release now. She moans in exhausted encouragement. She's told him before how she likes the feel of him fucking her cunt hard as she's coming down, so he doesn't hold back.
As his second orgasm of the night starts to overtake him, he circles his hips and grinds against her pussy, his cock once again filling her with his hot come. She whimpers at the feel of it, working her hips up against him, chasing the last vestiges of pleasure as they come down.
This time, he does get up and fetch a damp cloth to clean her up. Dripping with come may be hot in the moment, but neither of them want to wake up with it dried and sticking to their skin. So he gently wipes away the mess of slick and come between her thighs before discarding the rag and rejoining her in the bed.
She wriggles to get comfortable, settling in with her back pressed close to his chest, her hand resting over his where it's curled protectively around her waist.
"Love you, Huan-ge," he mumbles as she settles against him, quickly slipping toward sleep.
He moves her hair aside to place a gentle kiss behind her ear and whispers back, "Love you too, Zhan-er."
Her waist is slim, but her belly, where he rests his large palm, is soft. She really would be so beautiful all round and full with their child. As he follows her into sleep, he resolutely doesn't think about all the seed he'd pumped into her tonight taking root in her fertile womb. Doesn't imagine a solemn, golden-eyed infant with a tuft of black hair nursing at her breast. Doesn't want any of the things they can never have.
It's enough. They're enough. She's his whole world. It would be selfish to wish for more when she's already given him so much more than he ever would have dared to ask for. So he doesn't. He listens to her soft even breaths and feels her heartbeat in his own chest and thanks whatever forces in the universe aligned so she would choose him, the way he'd chosen her.
She's enough.
She's everything.