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Vivian had sneaked into Wise’s room before. It was nothing new, and she made a habit of sneaking in there when the Phaethon twins were out and about. This became much easier as time went on; the brother-and-sister duo spent a remarkable amount of time at the Waifei Peninsula, and especially at the Suibian Temple. Something about training?
Vivian didn’t know the specifics. What she did know was that it meant she could spend more time rifling through Phaethon’s things, and it was doubly good that Belle and Wise didn’t seem to mind.
(They did mind, actually. They just didn’t bother bringing it up to upset her.)
Now Vivian was back in Wise’s room, curious to learn more about the brother half of Phaethon. She’d stolen his pants before and sniffed them while getting off to it, and in fact she did the very same when it came to Belle’s undergarments, finding it to be the most arousing thing that she could do lately. She found it hard to get off when she wasn’t thinking about Phaethon, let alone snorting the stains in their clothes.
But something had shifted. There’d been a change in the siblings’ schedule, and it meant both Wise and Belle were home early. Vivian squeaked when she heard the door slam shut downstairs. She would be caught with her pants down—literally—and was mortified to imagine that she’d be caught pleasuring herself in Wise’s bed, wearing his boxers like a superhero mask.
Vivian bolted for the one place that might cover the evidence: Wise’s locker, the tall one just up against the wall. She wrenched the door open, squeezed inside, and pulled it shut just before the footsteps thudded up the stairs.
The metal walls were stifling, air tinged with the faint metallic tang and the ghost of dried sweat, cologne, and the soft mineral musk of laundered cotton. Vivian pressed her back against a knit pullover, a half-zipped windbreaker crinkling behind her. She adjusted her grip on the locker slats and barely dared to breathe.
The door to Wise’s room flung open with none of Wise’s usual caution; Belle tumbled in first, a zigzag of blue hair, her gait barely controlled, phone dangling by its charm. She spun a single circle and flopped back onto the bed, sneakers and all, making the bedsprings groan. Wise trailed her, pausing just inside the door with his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled slacks. He watched Belle for a beat, head cocked, one brow flicking up.
Vivian, in the locker, could see a sliver of the room through the vents, but the main thing she noticed was her own heartbeat rattling loud enough in her ears that she worried it might carry through the thin metal. The locker was cramped—she had to stand with her toes half-on Wise’s shoes, knees bent, shoulders wrenched up like she was bracing for execution. The only thing that distracted her from the discomfort was the way Belle rolled on the mattress, arms stretched overhead, shirt rucked up just enough to show a half-moon of pale belly.
Belle squirmed, her gaze locked on Wise, and then suddenly she was off the bed, closing the gap between them in two bounding steps. “Finally,” she said, her voice syrupy and bright, “I thought we’d never get back…”
She planted both hands on his chest and bounced a little, as if testing the firmness of his ribs through the t-shirt.
Wise’s response was a hoarse laugh, and then he ducked his head so their foreheads touched for a long, loaded second. They stood this way, swaying slightly, the air humming between them. Vivian was so certain they would start arguing about something—who tracked in more dust, or who left their socks in the rice cooker—but instead, there was a sharpness in the moment that didn’t resolve into words.
“Well,” he said, “we’re back now. Not so much privacy at Suibian Temple, huh?”
“Nuh-uh,” said Belle, although it as more like she hummed it as she kept her forehead pressed against her dear brother’s.
It took Vivian a blink to realize Wise’s hand was threading up Belle’s back, fingers splayed under her shirt. Not even subtle about it. He tipped Belle’s chin up, and when she grinned, he kissed her. First a quick one, a peck, and then, as if he’d decided something, another, longer, mouth-open kiss that made Belle stagger and grab at his waist.
“Ah—mmmfff…”
Vivian’s jaw dropped, and her legs nearly gave.
She’d seen the twins close before—everybody had, it was impossible to miss their joined-at-the-hip energy—but this was a private, greedy thing, not a sibling joke or a dare. Belle made a low, happy noise and leaned in, nosing along Wise’s jaw. “Missed you,” she mumbled, and her hands slipped up under his shirt, nails skittering across his skin.
Wise pulled her in and guided her back toward the bed, and Belle hopped up, sitting on the edge with her legs wide so Wise could step between them. She started unbuttoning his shirt, fingers fumbling, giggling when she missed a button and had to start over. He watched her hands, not helping, just letting her struggle; his own hands bracketed her hips, squeezing in time with her laughter.
“God, yeah,” Wise breathed. “I missed you too, Belle… I know we see each other at the temple all the time, but…”
“…but nothing beats coming home with you,” Belle purred, her eyes half-closed as if her eyelids were heavy with lust. And the entire time they toyed with each other like this—believing themselves to be alone in their intimate space—Vivian couldn’t stop staring, struck dumb with the realization that Belle and Wise were… behaving as if they were lovers, not siblings.
Oh my GOSH! What the heck is Phaethon DOING?!
They’re… oh, no… are they…?!
Yes… they were. Vivian was helpless to do nothing but watch.
Belle’s giggles were a breeze through the locker’s grille, tickling Vivian’s skin. Only she wasn’t laughing anymore. The sound stopped, replaced by a wet, sticky hush—the noise of mouths working together, the rough of tongue and the hollow click of teeth. Belle’s knees wrapped around Wise’s hips, ankles locking at the small of his back, and her fingers, so tiny and determined, scrabbled and finally managed to yank Wise’s shirt over his head. She flung it somewhere past the foot of the bed, where it landed in a heap that Vivian could see in her narrow strip of vision.
Vivian pressed her face closer to the vent, willing herself invisible. Her own breath fogged the metal slats, the heat from her chest squeezed tight by the musty polyester of Wise’s gym jacket. The locker vibrated with a thunk as the bed frame knocked against the wall—Wise must have lifted Belle bodily, because now she was above him, clinging, fingers knotting in his hair, knees cinched at his ribs.
“Belle,” Wise murmured, voice so low Vivian had to strain for it, “slow down…” but Belle only mashed her mouth against his. They staggered backward, arms knotted together, and collapsed onto the mattress in a tangled heap.
Vivian half-wished she’d been caught instead of stashed here, a squirming pervert in the dark, because her nerves prickled with the kind of shame that made her skin icy and feverish all at once. It was obscene, how Belle wiggled on Wise’s lap, laughing again, muffled by the way Wise’s hand found her jaw and held her still for another, sloppier kiss.
Vivian could see Belle’s skirt hike up, blue hair fanned around her head like a splash of paint. Wise’s hands slid up her thighs, spreading her open, and Belle arched back, writhing, her shirt riding higher to expose the pale slope between her ribs and waist. Belle’s own hands, greedy and fast, yanked Wise’s head to her chest. His mouth fastened to the side of one breast, over the fabric, and even from across the room, even through the locker’s steel, Vivian could hear the helpless gasp Belle made.
Vivian wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She pressed her forehead to the vent, not blinking, only watching as Wise’s hands snaked under Belle’s skirt. Belle’s thighs tensed, toes curling, and her laughter turned into a soft, breathy moan. The sound made Vivian’s own thighs squeeze together, a reflex she hated but couldn’t fight. She felt like she was burning up, sweat slick between her shoulders, the air in the locker growing thick and damp.
“Ohhh… fffuck… God, yes…” Belle closed her eyes, and she rocked back and forth, again and again, chasing the pleasure that always came with Wise’s diligent and experienced fingers. “Fuck yes, bro, please…”
Was this what the siblings always did, when they thought they were alone? Vivian had always suspected—Belle was so handsy, Wise so indulgent—but seeing it unfolded in front of her was so much worse than she’d imagined. Better, too. Her pulse thudded in her ears, an underwater rush that drowned out logic and left her only with sensation. The locker pressed in from all sides, and Vivian dug her fingers into the sleeves of the jacket, twisting fabric, holding herself.
They’re so filthy… so lewd…!
I thought… Wise was single… and Belle, too…
But it turns out… they’re with… each other…?!
A flicker of movement had Belle flat on her back, and then Wise’s grip changed. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties and slid them down in a single, smooth motion, skirt rucked at her waist. The cotton grazed her thighs, calves, ankles, and then nothing—just the open air, and the heat of Wise’s stare.
Belle’s cheeks flushed, a pink so deep it nearly matched the blue of her hair in vividness. She bit her lip, wriggled, and opened her legs wider. Wide enough for Wise to kneel between them, hands braced on either side, his hair falling like a gray cloud over his eyes as he gazed upon his little sister’s sweet, succulent little pussy, soft pink and inviting.
He paused a moment, gaze flicking up to meet hers, and Belle grinned—fast, sharp, eager. Wise bent forward and pressed his mouth against her, spreading her with a slow, excruciating care. Belle’s breath hitched, and then she gasped. Vivian felt the noise like a ripple across her skin.
“Already, mmf, so wet,” Wise remarked, dragging his tongue up the length of her juicy slit. “Ah… were you, mm, expecting this all day?”
“God, yes,” Belle breathed, shameless in her admission. “I’ve been thinking about your tongue all day… and not just your tongue, but that dick, too,” she added.
Vivian nearly squeaked as she covered her mouth. She’d never heard the siblings talk like this before, so filthy, so impassioned…
From the locker’s vantage, she could see Belle’s calves locked behind Wise’s shoulders, sneakers digging into the small of his back. Belle’s hands fisted the bed sheet, white-knuckled. Wise moved with an intensity that made Vivian’s knees buckle. He held Belle open and licked her, slow at first, then faster, tongue curling, lips suckling, pausing every so often to blow a cool breath across the wetness. Belle arched off the bed, hair wild, skin slick and glowing. A high, keening sound escaped her, raw and unguarded.
Vivian’s own thighs trembled, her pulse in her ears, her mouth watering with a longing she would never admit. She didn’t dare move. She could only watch, hands clamped over her own mouth to keep from making a sound. In that moment, she felt jealous. She hated to admit it to herself, but it was true. She didn’t know who she’d rather be right now: Wise, eating Belle’s pussy, or Belle, having her pussy eaten.
Belle shuddered and then, abruptly, twisted to the side. She reached for her phone, still dangling by its charm on the nightstand. Wise glanced up, brow furrowing, but Belle only giggled, kicking her heels against his ribs.
“Hold on, Wise! Gotta reply to a DM,” Belle sang, voice wobbly and thick.
Wise’s laugh was muffled by her thighs, but he didn’t stop. If anything, he redoubled his efforts, dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate circle that had Belle squeaking as she unlocked her phone with a shaky thumb. Vivian suddenly wondered just how often Belle or Wise replied to her DMs while they were otherwise occupied with each other. It made her heart leap in her chest to fantasize about.
Vivian watched as Belle’s thumb hovered over her phone screen. From her position at the locker, she couldn’t tell just who she was about to respond to. Who, exactly, would Belle text at a time like this?
Unfortunately, it didn’t take Vivian very long to find out.
Suddenly—and without much in the way of warning—her own phone chimed in her pocket.
Ding-ding!
The joyous-sounding jingle sounded out loud—right there in the locker, echoing off the metal walls, and Vivian’s heart dropped in her stomach.
Oh no! she thought. Shoot!!
“Huh?” Belle perked up suddenly, and Wise licked his lips as he pulled his face out from Belle’s nethers. “What was that?”
Wise narrowed his eyes. “It sounded like a phone…?”
“Shoot, shoot, shoot…!” Vivian whispered as she fished her phone out of her pocket, the device lighting up her face in the darkness of the locker.
Alas, Vivian had run all out of luck. The sudden movement caused the locker’s front-facing door to pop open, and Vivian shrieked aloud as her eyes were suddenly caught by the bright light.
Vivian tumbled out in a clatter of locker door and limbs, phone skittering across the floor, a damp streak of panic sliding down her throat. The room and everything in it froze: Belle sprawled on the mattress, skirt askew, legs still up around Wise’s hips, and Wise himself, bare-chested, mouth slick and ruddy, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the apparition in purple hair that had just belly-flopped into their post-coital tableau.
Belle screamed—just a high, startled yelp—and twisted, yanking her skirt down with both hands. Her panties, unfortunately, were halfway across the room, so she could only try to cover herself with the hem, face mortified and red enough to light the street outside. Wise reacted faster, snatching up the edge of the comforter and flinging it across Belle as though the sudden apparition of Vivian required immediate physical shelter.
Vivian didn’t know whether to scramble for cover or stay frozen, so she did a horrible combo of both: one knee on the carpet, one foot tangled in a shoelace, hands splayed in front of her like she was about to beg for her life. Two thoughts collided in her head, fighting for supremacy. One: this was possibly the rudest, most humiliating thing she’d ever done. Two: she’d never felt so alive.
No one moved for a beat. The only sound was Vivian’s own phone, still pinging its cheerful notification tone as it vibrated under the desk.
Wise broke the spell, voice ragged. “What the… Vivian, were you… in the locker… this whole time?”
His hair was a mess, and he looked genuinely spooked—like he’d seen a ghost, or, more accurately, like he’d just realized the ghost was watching him eat out his sister.
Vivian opened her mouth. Absolutely nothing came out. She clapped it shut, blinked hard, and tried again.
“Uh… surprise?” She winced at her own voice. It was tinny and not at all confident. “I, I thought you were at the temple, I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think you’d get caught?” Belle hissed from beneath the comforter, voice shrill and incredulous. Her face was a study in panic: eyes wet, cheeks splotched, lower lip stuck so far out it was a miracle she could form words. “Were you spying on us, Vivian?!”
Vivian’s brain ran a dozen calculations, none of which ended in a graceful exit. She tried to stand, but the leg folded under her refused to work, so she flopped inelegantly onto her butt, gripping the edge of the locker for dear life. “No, no, not—spying! I was just… uh… hiding! From you. Well, not you. Wise. B-both of you…”
There was a silence in which all three of them collectively realized that didn’t make sense.
Belle’s expression tumbled from horror to something else, fast and sharp. She pointed, trembling, at Vivian’s hips. “You—oh my god, Vivian, you’re wet!”
“H-huh?!”
Vivian looked down—not that she had to—to confirm that, yes, her panties were utterly soaked. She pulled the hem of her own skirt down to cover her shame, but it was too late. The two of them, Phaethon, the most important duo in the world to her, had seen her soaking wet underwear. Underwear that was soaked because she was spying on their intimate embrace, no less…
Vivian’s world shrank to a pinpoint. Shame was a live wire in her veins, sparking panic through her chest, burning up any words she tried to say. She was still on her knees, hands clamped to the locker’s edge, her mind a pelting swirl of every bad decision she’d ever made. In her periphery, Wise was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Belle, still tangled awkwardly in the comforter, had locked eyes with her. The room’s air was thick with everything they’d just done, and everything she’d just witnessed.
Vivian prostrated herself onto the carpet, smooth and fast, forehead pressed to the floorboards, arms outstretched in a cartoonish bow of apology. “I’m sorry! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—I mean, I did, but not like—oh god, I’m such a freak, I’ll go, I’ll delete myself, I’ll never come back, you’ll never have to see me again, I’m so, so—” Her voice broke into a sobbing stammer that embarrassed even her. “I’ll shut up now, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry, please don’t hate me, please, I know I’m disgusting and—”
Her apology was rudely interrupted by Belle’s laughter—a single, sharp cackle that dribbled into a cascade of giggles. Vivian dared to lift her head. Belle’s face was flushed, the horror in her expression peeled away like a scab. She was smirking. Actually smirking. Vivian’s heart did a little suicide dive.
“What?” Belle said, all mock outrage. “You think this is the first time someone’s spied on us?”
“Belle…” Wise’s tone was low, but he wasn’t angry. More like he was in shock, too.
Vivian found her voice again, thready and small. “I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t mean to—I mean, I did, but—” Her hands fluttered, helpless. There was really nothing she could say.
Belle sighed, but not out of frustration. Far from it, apparently. “It’s fine, it’s fine…” She stretched and patted the edge of the bed. “Come up here, you perv.”
Vivian stared, unable to process what she was hearing from Belle, or seeing from Wise. She was supposed to be shunned, exiled, and tossed out of their lives to mourn what she’d lost in kinship. She was not supposed to be invited onto the bed.
Yet here was Belle, softening into something almost gentle, patting the mattress with a sort of bored impatience, as if waiting for a puppy to jump.
Wise looked at her, too, and for a second she thought she saw disappointment. But then he shrugged, huffed a tiny, helpless laugh, and held a hand out. She hesitated and took it; his palm was warm and slick with sweat, but he pulled her up with an ease that made her feel, briefly, lighter than air.
Vivian wobbled on the mattress as she landed beside Belle, the bed frame squealing again under her added weight. The air was thick and soupy with the scent of sex—Belle’s, Wise’s, and now, Vivian’s own. She felt raw, like a peeled peach, every inch of her tingling with the aftershock of her humiliation. But Belle’s hand found hers, damp and trembling, and squeezed.
Belle’s fingers wound between Vivian’s, warm and snug, and then she leaned in, her lips finding Vivian’s cheek, then jaw, then lower, a feather of a kiss that made Vivian shiver all over again for utterly new reasons. There was no judgment in the touch, only a mischievous challenge, and Belle’s mouth seared a secret right onto her skin: You’re still one of us.
Vivian didn’t dare move, not until Belle drew back, just far enough to lock eyes. Belle’s lashes were clumped with sweat but her gaze glittered with something sharper, sweeter. “You want to make it up to us?” Belle asked, her lips barely parted, the words tickling against Vivian’s mouth.
Vivian’s own voice nearly failed her but she managed a stammered “Please.” Heat raced up her neck, color rising to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. Not with Belle so close, not with the taste of Belle’s breath on her tongue.
“Then help Wise feel good,” Belle whispered, almost conspiratorial, and she grinned that impish, villainous grin, like she’d just decided to make mischief out of thin air. “He told me once he fantasized about you. About us, together, you know?”
Vivian’s pulse thundered in her throat. She flicked a glance to Wise, whose face was a study in mortification, his cheeks almost as pink as Belle’s. He ducked his head, a sheepish, bashful thing—so unlike his usual calm.
“Belle—” he started, but the sentence died, unfinished.
Vivian felt something else surge in her chest, something hungry, something that wanted to take Belle up on her offer, to see how far this rabbit hole went. What would it hurt, really? They’d already seen the worst of her, hadn’t they? Wise watched her, his blue eyes wary but not unkind.
She reached for Wise’s hand. It was still warm, still trembling faintly beneath her own. She squeezed, and when he didn’t pull away, she let herself slide closer, until her hip pressed against his.
“Is it true?” she asked, her voice a husk. “You thought about… me?”
Wise looked up, met her eyes, and then, with a hesitant honesty, nodded. “It’s true,” he said. “I mean—not like I expected—” He trailed off, then laughter broke through the tension, softening him. “But yeah. I have. You’re… you.”
Vivian’s heart did something dangerous, a fluttery ricochet that made her short of breath. She let herself lean forward, her hair brushing his bare shoulder. “Would it be okay… if I…?”
She didn’t have to finish. Wise kissed her first, soft and cautious, tasting her like she might vanish if he pressed too hard. She melted into it, her hands bracing on his chest, feeling the hammer of his heart under her palms. It was so gentle she almost cried—nothing like the fevered rush she’d just witnessed—and then, when she whimpered, Wise’s grip on her tightened, and he pulled her fully against him, wrapping her up, making her feel real and there, like she belonged pressed to his skin.
The panic vanished. Heat flooded her in its place: a low, hungry curiosity, something lawless and giddy. She felt Belle next to her, close enough that every shift of the mattress jostled their shoulders together. She could smell Belle’s shampoo—cheap and floral—and the salt of her skin. It all combined with the musk in the room, the riot of entangled sweat and sex, and it was enough to short-circuit every last ounce of Vivian’s shame.
She let her palm drift down Wise’s chest, the hard muscle beneath his soft skin, until her fingers grazed the waistband of his boxers. He tensed; not in revulsion, not in surprise, but like he was daring her to keep going. From the corner of her eye, she saw Belle prop herself against the headboard, face stretched with a grin that dared the sun. Belle gave her an encouraging little nudge with her knee.
“Go on,” Belle crooned, voice husky. “He’s all yours, at least for now. I’ll wait my turn.”
Vivian shuddered—delight, disbelief, whatever it was, it left her unsteady. She hooked her fingers under the elastic and tugged, slow at first, then all at once. Wise lifted his hips to help. His cock sprang out, pink and already hard, bobbing like it was just as startled as the rest of him. Vivian’s first instinct was to look away, but she made herself meet it head-on, letting her gaze soak up every inch.
For years, she’d imagined it—between the folds of daydreams and the hazy frame of her own alone-time. Now it was right there, real and needy and so obviously meant for her to touch. Her hands shook as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. The heat of him pulsed against her palm.
“You’re not disgusted?” Wise’s voice was thin, brittle. Vivian liked it that way.
She squeezed, watched his stomach jump, and tried for confident. “Why would I be?”
In the silence that followed, Belle snuck a hand under the comforter and did something that made her sigh quietly through her nose. Wise’s eyes darted, half-lidded, lost for a second in the sensation. None of them acknowledged the soft, slick sounds coming from Belle’s corner of the bed. None needed to.
Vivian lowered her head, hesitating only a moment before she pressed her lips to the tip. She licked once, savoring the alienness of it—how this was definitely not her, not her idea, not her usual thing, but here she was, doing it anyway.
She took him into her mouth, farther than she thought she could, and was rewarded with a broken, stuttering “Fuck” from Wise’s throat. That spurred her on; she bobbed, slow at first, then with a little more rhythm, feeling the way he swelled under her tongue.
Something shifted in the air between them. She could taste the salt and heat, the subtle musk of his skin, a hint of something almost metallic. Vivian pressed her tongue to the ridge just under the head—she’d read about that somewhere, maybe a forum or an ancient, half-deleted blog—and was rewarded with another twitch of Wise’s abs, another helpless curse.
She looked up, expecting disgust, or at least confusion, but instead Wise was watching her with an uncertain, almost reverent focus. Like she was a wild animal he’d never seen up close before, something rare and precious and a little bit dangerous. He reached, almost cautiously, and stroked her hair—just once, a gentle raking of his fingers through her purple cascade as if to anchor himself in the moment. Vivian felt a rush of heat, pride and arousal mixing in a feverish pulse. She redoubled her efforts, taking him deeper, letting herself get lost in the rhythm of it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Belle, sprawled on her back atop the comforter, knees splayed, skirt hitched around her hips. Belle had given up on modesty entirely; her hand moved in a lazy, practiced circle between her thighs, the other pillowing her head, eyes half-lidded as she watched Vivian. Belle’s tongue peeked from between her lips, wetting them periodically, as if she was trying to savor the scene like a favorite treat. It made Vivian shiver—a weird, electric tingle of knowing she was being watched, judged, maybe even envied.
She focused back onto Wise, tempo unsteady as she tried to find what felt good, what made him gasp or clench his fists in the sheets. She fumbled, teeth snagging once, and froze in terror—but Wise’s only response was a shaky “Shit, that’s okay, not so fast, just… slower, Viv, you’re doing… yeah.” He let his palm rest atop her head, a wordless, grounding gesture. Vivian gave a tiny, grateful whimper around his cock and slowed, trying to savor the tactile weirdness of it—the heat, the subtle variations in texture, the way the skin moved with just a little resistance over the hardness underneath.
She liked the way his thighs quivered when she did something right. She liked, too, the way her own body responded: slickness gathering between her legs, the pulse of her heart beating at her lips, a growing, insistent ache that made her want to touch herself, just like Belle. She almost did, but the hunger to please Wise was stronger, and she wanted to see how far she could go before her own nerve broke.
A sudden warmth near her shoulder startled her—Belle’s hand, sliding over, nails grazing the back of Vivian’s arm. Vivian looked up, startled, and Belle grinned at her with a heat that made the world blurry for a second.
Belle’s hand lingered, barely a suggestion, and when Vivian looked at her, Belle’s lips parted in something like a dare. “You’re making him crazy, you know,” Belle purred, voice syrup-thick, meant for only the smallest circle of conspirators—a secret for just the three of them.
Vivian’s tongue tingled with the taste of him, mouth stretched and jaw trembling at the effort, and she almost laughed at the idea that she was making anyone crazy, when every cell in her was primed and jittering with need. She let Wise slip from her lips, watched the hungry way his cock throbbed with the cool air, and then turned, grinning with a shame-drunk wildness, to Belle.
“Show me how it’s done,” Vivian whispered, not sure if she’d said it aloud or only thought it—she was too lost in the heat of the moment, the pulse between her thighs that matched the one at the base of Wise’s cock.
Belle’s answering smile was wicked, but gentle, like she’d been waiting for the invitation. She slid down beside Vivian, shoulder-to-shoulder, and wrapped her hand around the base of Wise’s cock, steadying it with a casual confidence that made something tumble loose in Vivian’s chest. Belle guided the tip to the hollow of her cheek, let it rest there, then licked a broad, slow stripe from base to crown, flicking her tongue with a flourish at the end.
Wise groaned—really groaned, head falling back, fingers white-knuckled on the sheets. “Holy fuck… God, I’m lucky…”
For a second, Vivian just watched, fascinated by the way Belle’s lips glided over the slick head, the way her tongue worked in languorous, practiced spirals. There was nothing awkward about it; Belle was deliberate and greedy, savoring every inch, letting herself have fun with it. When she looked up—eyes shining, lashes sticky with sweat—it was straight into Vivian’s face.
“Take the other side,” Belle murmured, and Vivian, not trusting her voice, only nodded.
They moved together, falling into a rhythm that was clumsy at first, then smoother, Wise’s cock shared between their mouths. Belle would take him deep, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed, and when she pulled back, Vivian would follow, lapping at the tip, suckling, teasing, chasing the slickness left behind. Once, their lips brushed around the shaft, and Belle giggled, not missing a beat, her fingers stroking the length as Vivian took another turn.
Wise couldn’t keep quiet. He made desperate, strangled noises, sometimes a sharp curse, sometimes just breathy moans, and the sound of it—so raw and uncontrolled—set off little detonations of glee inside Vivian. She couldn’t believe this was happening; couldn’t believe how good it felt to be a part of something this intimate and lawless.
Belle, always the showoff, drew a spiral with her tongue around the rim, then winked at Vivian before daring to push just a bit more into her throat. Wise gasped, and Belle hummed, the vibration making Vivian’s own thighs clamp tighter.
Vivian, emboldened, tried to match Belle’s technique. She took Wise a little deeper, letting her lips glide wetly down the length, tongue circling, then withdrawing to breathe, to taste the salt and warmth and Belle’s breath beside her. The symmetry of it, the twin hunger, made her feel weightless—like they were two points orbiting the same sun, every touch and flick and shiver building towards a climax she could feel in the marrow of her bones.
She lost all sense of shame; it didn’t matter that she was trembling, that her jaw ached, that her own panties were soaked straight through. Wise’s cock was the only thing in the universe, a pulse and a heat she wanted to wrap herself around. Belle’s hand guided her, steady and sure, and when their cheeks pressed together, the warmth of Belle’s skin made Vivian’s heart shudder and skip. She met Belle’s eyes, and Belle grinned, and together they devoured him, trading kisses on the shaft, sharing the taste, neither of them willing to claim all of it for themselves.
Vivian felt a change in Wise’s breath; it went ragged, frantic, the muscles in his abdomen twitching under her hand. Belle must have sensed it too, because she pulled back and gave a devilish little laugh, stroking the base of his cock with a feather touch. “Gonna cum?” Belle taunted softly, eyes never leaving Wise’s face.
Wise nodded desperately. “You two are s-so good at this… especially when you work together… f-fuck, I’m gonna cum, B-Belle, Vivian, ah, shit—!”
Vivian felt Wise’s cock pulse in her mouth, the warning twitch and turgid throb, and then the hot, salty flood of his orgasm. He groaned, convulsing, his hips bucking up off the mattress. She almost pulled away, but Belle’s grip was firm at the nape of her neck, holding her in place, coaxing her to take every drop.
It was overwhelming. So much more than she expected. White and pearly, thick and strange on her tongue. Belle was merciless, grinning and rubbing circles into Vivian’s neck, whispering, “Good girl, so good… don’t swallow it, or I’ll get real mad. Sister gets dibs, too~”
The last spurt of cum painted Vivian’s lips. Vivian gasped for air, blinked, and Belle was right there, kissing her, the taste of Wise shared and multiplied. Their tongues tangled, saliva and semen mixing, the flavor so obscene it made Vivian moan into Belle’s mouth.
She could feel the mess on her chin, sticky and hot, and when Belle pulled back, she licked it clean, giggling with a predatory delight. Saliva and semen connected their lips together, a thin tendril borne of lust. “Don’t waste it,” Belle chided, and then took another deep, hungry kiss, sucking Vivian’s lower lip until there was nothing left but the aftertaste and a dizzy, breathless ache.
Wise collapsed backward, spent, his chest heaving. Vivian stared at him, blushing and beaming, disbelieving that he and Belle had this sort of fun every day.
“Th-that was so fun,” Vivian remarked. “Ahh… can we… keep going?”
“Of course,” Belle replied, smirking. “But first… let’s get those clothes off, okay~?”
It soon became clear that Belle loved kissing, and she took every possible opportunity to make out with either Wise or Vivian whenever she felt the inside of her mouth was woefully empty.
Even now, Belle rode Wise’s face with gusto, grinding her soaking wet pussy over her dear brother’s mouth and tongue. At the same time, Vivian was bouncing on Wise’s cock, her eyes half-closed and heavy with lust as she bucked her hips and ground against Wise’s crotch. Meanwhile, she was content to swap more saliva with Belle; she kissed her with zeal, moaning into her mouth and relishing the soft sounds that leaked from her as their tongues danced and tangled for dominance.
Wise’s own tongue was a thrum of constant, patient pressure inside Belle, a rhythm that left her twitching and chasing after every little shock of pleasure he built into her. She rutted atop him, both hands braced on the headboard, sweat slick on her thighs, and when Vivian’s lips crashed against hers again, Belle let out a snort, half-laugh, half-moan, and bit at Vivian’s lower lip.
Vivian, meanwhile, was a mess—she’d never been this full, the thickness of Wise inside her a steady, solid stretch that made every movement ripple up her spine. She tried to ride gracefully, but the first few thrusts left her in shambles, so she gave up entirely on looking composed. She bounced instead—enthusiastic, uncoordinated, pounding herself down onto Wise’s cock, then grinding deep, her own pussy clenching tight with every impact.
Wise was half-drowned in Belle, but he still kept a hand on Vivian’s hip, guiding her, steadying her as they moved together—a little family of perverts, a sweaty, tangled heap. Vivian’s chest mashed against Belle’s, their nipples brushing with every lurch of the bed. Belle caught her by the hair and yanked her close, and Vivian let herself fall into it, kissing back with open-mouthed, desperate hunger. Belle tasted like sex and sweetness and even the faintest hint of mint, and Vivian wanted to devour her entirely.
Vivian lost track of time in the haze. There was only the wet, slapping noise of her hips, the grind of her clit as she reached down to thumb her pulsing love button, and noisy kissing that she and Belle were infatuated with. Eventually, it all proved to be too much. She whimpered and moaned as she came undone in the siblings’ fervor, bucking her hips and arching her back and experiencing a full-body orgasm that left her hot and wanting, twitching and curling in Phaethon’s mutual grasp.
Vivian’s voice cracked open, starting as a gasp and shattering into a scream. She bore down, her whole body seizing up, and the tension in her thighs was almost enough to bruise Wise’s hips. She didn’t just cum—she detonated, every nerve in her body wound taut and electric, burning from the crown of her head down to her curling toes.
“YES!” She cried out, no longer kissing Belle but inching back just to croon and scream with ecstasy and joy. “Yes, Phaethon, yes! I love you, I love you, I love you, Phaethon~!!!”
Her vision fritzed and fuzzed, and she clawed at Belle’s shoulder, needing the anchor, the real-ness of her, the damp skin and frantic mouth. She felt herself clench hard around Wise’s cock, spasming, milking him, and the sensation lit every synapse in her brain.
Belle responded like she’d been waiting for permission. Her scream harmonized with Vivian’s, and her body bucked, the muscles in her calves going rigid as she mashed her pussy down on Wise’s tongue. “Hah! Yes! YES! Cum with us, Vivian! Cum on my bro’s cock! Fuck, oh, GOD~!”
Vivian saw Belle’s lips split in a wild grin before she collapsed forward, mashing their foreheads together, blue hair spilling everywhere as she panted for air, her little chest rising and falling with each breath. Belle’s thighs trembled violently, her skirt bunched up to her waist, and she squirted—Vivian saw it, a flash of clear, sticky wetness splattering Wise’s face, soaking his cheeks, his nose, his chin. He lapped it up, groaning into Belle, arms locked around her, riding out the aftershocks.
The three of them stayed locked together, a shaking, sticky knot. Vivian barely had time to register the slick, liquid heat that started to pulse inside her. Wise’s cock swelled, and then he was cumming, deep and sudden inside her, so deep she almost felt it in her chest.
The first spurt caught her by surprise—hot, wild, humiliatingly good, and then the next, and the next, flooding her pussy with so much she wondered if it would ever stop. Vivian howled, the aftershocks shaking through her with every slick, obscene pulse. She milked him, greedy for everything he gave, and it just kept coming, thick and molten and so, so much.
It was too much. It spilled out around Wise’s cock, dribbling down her thighs, leaking onto his balls, the mess of it everywhere, soaking into the sheets and the air and the very essence of the room. Belle, still mashed forehead to forehead with Vivian, was gasping, her breaths coming in wild little hiccups of laughter and bliss.
“That’s it,” she crooned. “Take my bro’s cum… take every last drop, Vivian… hah… ooohhh… let him fill you up, he’s always got s-so much to give… plenty for the both of us…”
They didn’t move for what felt like hours. Wise twitched under them, spent, his arms winding around both girls like he was afraid they’d vanish if he loosened his grip. His hand stroked idly up and down Vivian’s thigh, calming her, grounding her, while Belle’s fingers traced lazy shapes on the slick skin of Vivian’s cheek.
Vivian’s vision reeled. She hardly remembered toppling sideways, but she ended up wedged between Belle and Wise, her head pillowed on Wise’s chest, Belle’s arms thrown haphazardly around her waist like a seat belt that might hold her together if she exploded again.
No one spoke.
There was only the sound of panting, the distant thump of city traffic, and the happy squelch of their bodies glued together by sweat and everything else.
It was all so stupidly perfect. Vivian’s mind, still whiting out with afterglow, spun wild in its cage.
They’re so sweet I want to die. And I’m—oh god, I’m the one who’s grossest of all~!
Hah… I’m between Phaethon… I’m cuddling up in between Phaethon! I’m the luckiest girl in the world!
Belle’s hand groped up, found Vivian’s jaw, and tugged her around for a drowsy, giggly kiss. “You okay?” Belle mumbled, her voice slurred and warm.
Vivian nodded. She felt wet, sticky, wide open and filled in every sense of the word. “I’m… so okay,” she whispered. “I’m… gosh… I’m going to cry, I’m so happy…!”
Wise laughed gently. “Well, if you do, we’ve got plenty of tissues and towels to wipe you with.” He squeezed their bodies tighter against him. “You did so well… just relax with us for a bit, alright? Just take it slow…”
Vivian nodded gently. If she’d had the energy, she would have kissed them both and then written a ballad about the night and scrawled it on every bathroom wall in Sixth Street. Instead, she just wrapped her legs around the mass of Phaethon and held on, floating in a soft buzz, savoring the burn in her thighs, the ache in her jaw, the ooze between her legs leaking out slow and hot.
Belle nuzzled in, bonking her head against Vivian’s cheek. “You did so good,” she whispered, then flopped her arm over Vivian’s hips and burrowed in, already half asleep.
“Ahhh… I’m sleeping with Phaethon…” Vivian mumbled dizzily, the widest smile she’d ever had stretched across her lips. The siblings locked tighter around her, as if willing and able to keep her safe from whatever troubles should befall her. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so safe. So loved.
“Thank… you…” she whispered, victim to their kisses; their ardor. “Love… you…”
“We love you too,” Belle promised. “Just… ah… no more sneaking in lockers, alright?”
“And we should probably shower soon,” Wise added, a half-smile flitting across his lips. “And we’re definitely gonna have to… ah… clean these sheets…”
“I-I can clean the sheets,” Vivian blurted. “I can be on Phaethon laundry duty!”
“We’ll take turns,” said Belle, “but Wise has to clean it all first, since he made the biggest mess!”
Wise scoffed. “Says the girl who squirted all over the sheets…”
“You pumped so much cum into Vivian, she might get pregnant, bro. You’d better be a good dad…”
“Ugh, shut up…”
The two siblings went back and forth like that for a while, brother in sister in tandem with Vivian. She said nothing as they had their playful argument, only snuggled closer like she’d won the game of life.
For she certainly had.