Even at the height of summer, the heat never settles on the mansion as it does on the city. The interior is well-insulated, and despite its age, maintenance has been regular and thorough. Regarding the geography, I understand that the elevation of the property exposes it to stronger winds. That and the surrounding vegetation produce a comfortable microclimate. Whatever heat wave it is that affects the city below casts only a pale shadow on this place. Altitude keeps it all at bay.
It keeps many things at bay, in fact. Elevation is the defining characteristic of power. It communicates a separation from the activity of the environment: an infinite, impassable distance. This is typical of structures from across history, whether the great ziggurat of Babylon, the Greek acropolis, and the archetypal castle. Neuschwanstein is a good example, I believe. Closer to home are the shrines and temples, always situated above the common world. Their more extreme cousins in Tibet put themselves on mountaintops, espousing a deeper desire for ascetism, if not for practical logistics.
I have only one more thing to say on this matter. A certain distance is comfortable, but at times, very lonely.
Enter the library; a hardwood floor with lush carpeting on the reading area. The long mullioned windows cover about two thirds of the far wall, and heavy velvet drapes frame the sides. To the left, there are about six shelves that extend to the ceiling, filled with whatever held the interests of the last few generations of the family. All very ordinary books and novels. The more interesting histories are preserved elsewhere, though my father was not especially reluctant to bring some here for extended study.
On the right, and this the part that is of concern to this story, is the reading space. The carpet is solid burgundy and soft enough to sink into. A table is in the center, rosewood with a glass face. Around it in a half circle are a single couch, a loveseat, and a chaise lounge. These were part of a set, older than I am. Nevertheless, their quality is excellent, and comfort has not diminished.
That fact is confirmed, because I am currently seated on the couch. The upholstery is fresh and smells of detergent, and is perfectly soft. With one hand, I lazily turn the pages of the book propped up in front of me. I have been lost for some time in this world of paper, time marked only by the ticking of the large clock above the door.
Some consideration must be made to the weather; it is raining. Droplets splash against the windows and disperse, marking their existence with just that faint tap. It is a constant and gentle sound, and it puts me in a strange mood. This hill is high, but hardly pierces the clouds. Like anywhere else, the rain falls. It falls harder, even, thanks to the absence of any windbreak. Not to suggest that I find this unpleasant. Cold weather does not bother me. Has not, for a while now.
And sprawled on the chaise opposite to me is my brother, who has yet to finish his first hundred pages of the Jungle Book. While I cannot comment on his choice of material, I will express some degree of sisterly pride that he has endeavored to read it in the original language. His cultural education is critically deficient, and judging by the half-dead glaze of his eyes, is not showing good signs of improvement. I shall be gracious and lend him a hand.
With a light snap, I shut my own novel. His eyes flicker over to me for a moment, and then lock on as I walk toward his seat. He lowers the book and sits up, making space for me before I can ask for it. Onto the cushion now. Ah, lovely. The cushion has preserved a lingering touch of warmth.
“You seem to be a bit tired, brother. Would it help if I asked you to read aloud to me?”
A quizzical look, and he clears his throat. "’There is none like to me!" says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill; But the jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.’ Right, how was that, Akiha?”
“...To be fair to you, I think that was only below-average pronunciation. However, please work a little harder. You’re not a child being raised by wolves.”
He scoffs and turns his attention fully on me now. “Yes, wolves could never be so demanding. I’d probably have done pretty well with them.” A little hint of a smile is on his lips, teasing. But one might call it predatory, even. Such a petty challenge, and of course I must not back down.
“This sort of recreation is useful in society.” I pull my body up onto the chaise. Legs over his lap, and back against the armrest. “That aside, there aren’t any wolves in Japan anyway.”
He says nothing and picks up the book. Behind his glasses, his eyes focus intently on the pages. They flicker every few seconds and he blinks quickly at regular intervals. The rustle of paper marks another page complete. That and the sound of quiet breathing cut through the distant hiss of rain, all punctuated by the wooden ticking of the clock. His silence leaves me with a sliver of irritation, but seeing him like this, quiet and focused, puts me in such a calm mind that I cannot even think to probe again.
Those eyes are sharply focused, intent on seeing nothing but the book. Above, the hint of a frown has settled itself on his brow. Pulse is up by a few beats, and I can smell sweat under his clothes. The marks of irritation are palpable, but something new is rising above them.
“Hey, Akiha?”
This interrupts my thoughts. Of course I do not express this, turning my head in response.
“I’m kinda stumped with this part. Do you mind?”
“You’re joking, surely?”
Nothing has been done, nothing said, but as I inch closer and closer my face has already twisted into a smile so tight that I can feel it even through this haze that blurs my vision and suffuses through my body with such a familiar warmth that I want only to curl up and squeeze so that it never escapes me. And yet there is a certain approach to make, and a certain way to make it. A guest does not immediately enter the boudoir to take tea.
I tap my foot against his knees, which shift unconsciously and allow me to enter. The glide of fabric against satiny fabric is now the loudest sound in the room. I press the ball of my foot against his inner thigh. Gentle plying pushes his legs apart and I find the firm bulge at the fly of his pants.
Nii-san starts and drops his book. Eyes wide open and face decorated with a burning flush, he is the picture of a maiden whose lover has found her bed in the night. He’s rarely off guard when it comes to things like this, and something else has caught my notice.
“Now, how long have you been like this?”
He’s regained some composure, in defiance of the staccato tapping of my foot. “Take a guess.” His hand is on my knee, and sliding up.
Nii-san is quite the carnivore to turn the situation around. A little trickle of sweat runs down my back. Is this the feeling of a rabbit in the jaws of a trap? A bird in a cage? Regardless of these doubts, I arch my back and make a small smile. “Then, you make very dangerous game indeed. Now, shall I have you come, just like this?”
I dig in with my toes and roll his swollen organ around with greater force. He stiffens all over, releasing a slow groan. Breath running ragged, he slips in a reply. “I invite you to try.”
Licked, sucked, nibbled, I am devoured. My breath is stolen away, mixing with his in the interstice of our lips. The sensation is overwhelming. He clamps down harder, now pressing me against the cushion. As my warmth is stolen, more still is pumped in. This face, this chest, this beating heart, are all no longer my own. We two are linked, sharing everything between us. But there are limits. The slow burn of asphyxiation begins to overtake us, sending my heartbeat skyrocketing until I finally break away to breathe.
Part, return. Part, return. He is a starving beast, wolfing down its meat in gulps. Ripping through the entrance of my mouth, and then the entrance of my being.
“No, wait.” I gasp out. “Not yet.”
He simply stares into me. Behind lenses, those lovely blue eyes shine. “What’s wrong with right now?”
Clothing rips and is cast aside. Skirt and underwear gone, my most vulnerable parts are bared. Pants open, he moves in. It is unlike me, I know, but right now I only want to grab him and tighten my hold, until he can never go free. In fact, I’ll do just that. I hug him from below, beckoning him forward.
Poised to make entry, his dick glistens in its own fluids. Hurry up, hurry and do as you wish, or I’ll grow impatient. On his glasses, a fine mist has formed. Whether it is my breath or his own steaming sweat, is impossible to tell. He jerks forward; I wince in anticipation of the familiar sensation, of the tightness and the pleasure.
It doesn’t come. Nothing but a quick peck on the tip of my nose.
“Eh?”
“Look at you all flustered. What, you thought I was serious?”
It’s gone. Enchantment and arousal ablate and vanish, replaced now with indignation that burns my face crimson.
“Why, you, you!”
He sinks closer to me, covering me completely with his body. When he speaks, the words come in a low purr.
“Well, you thought right.”
It enters like a red-hot stake, sliding between the walls of my flesh. I cry out in surprise, taking him in fully with an involuntary jerk of my hips. Pain probably hits me first. Though this is hardly the first time we’ve coupled, the sudden intrusion into my innermost parts comes with a jolt of tension, and the crushing strain. I take him in and tighten until my own muscles burn with the strain. I won’t ever, ever let go.
It feels good. As he stirs up my insides, they coil and loosen, filling with the slippery fluid of our communion. Unprepared depths acclimate to his rhythm, now pounding freely into me. It comes in bursts of motion. He removes himself, plunges back in, and starts all over. It’s the simplest, most natural expression of ourselves. I lie here trembling in ecstasy, accepting everything he gives.
My hand wanders down to the little knob above my entrance, and as I hold him tightly to me with one arm, I also savor my own touch. Stoked from within and without, the sensations rise to a fever pitch. Above, he curls over me and forces our lips together. I’m enveloped, pinned from above and below, taken over by my beloved brother. Skipping the hunt, paying no mind to the steps, just seizing the prey before it notices anything amiss.
This is being devoured. Everything of mine is open to him, and he takes it. Outside, my blouse is torn open, lingerie pushed to the side. The damage to the clothes is not worth mentioning. These are nothing special, and he simply wants me badly enough to not care. As do I him.
Panting for breath, he stops halfway, looking down over me. He reminds himself that I am his, and looking up at him, I remind myself that he is mine. Rather, we remind each other of this fact. I tighten around him unconsciously, trying my best to suck him back into me. To continue this act of plunder.
Instead of relenting, he poses a question.
“When you get down to it, what are we, Akiha?”
Impatient as I am, I consider this briefly. “Siblings? Lovers? Humans?”
Maintaining that steady expression, the sharp focus on my eyes and face, he says, “Humans. Yes, we’re just beasts that learned to tell stories.”
I understand his meaning. I understand, but I don’t want to think about it. It’s not my fault. He’s responsible for getting me this excited.
“So?”
“So, nothing. We’re done with stories. It’s fine to just be beasts.”
He gives my hand a squeeze and releases, and then plunges into me once more. Just like that, the renewed sensation becomes more intense than before. I love this feeling. I love the raw heat that flows between us. Our bodies are pressed together, absent of any divide save the skin that forms the final barrier between inside and outside. And surpassing even that, we are linked within as well. We share our essence, our pleasure. I love this person who is closest to me, yet so distinctly separate.
“B–brother!”
Within, he twitches, pulses. Breaths become harsh, washing over my face. He rams himself in, and tears himself out. His heart beats so forcefully that I can feel it through his back. He groans, or growls. I can scarcely tell the difference.
“Akiha. Akiha!”
His seed coats my insides, dribbling out as he continues to move in the throes of climax. Temporarily spent, he withdraws and reclines against the chair. Face flushed, chest heaving, he still stares at me, pinning me down with his gaze.
“As always, you’re so very soft.” he murmurs.
Time passes without count. The clock ticks, forgotten. We await the chance to recommence, until he says, “Ok, turn over.”
As I shift my position, I note how my arms and legs tremble, filled with a feverish energy. Once satisfied with my orientation, he slides his hands over my rear. A gentle squeeze, and then my hips are seized.
From behind, he finds my entrance still dripping. Teasing it open with his fingers, he brings the head of his dick to meet it. It’s like a kiss. Bit by bit, he enters. I can already take him in, but he moves agonizingly slowly. He enjoys himself fully, and soon finds a good pace. With each dull smack of flesh on flesh, I release a short gasp. I’m eager for more and more.
Without warning, he comes in harder. It sets me off, and I yelp like a dog in heat. The image might be shameful if it weren’t so apt. He resumes with unbridled enthusiasm, and I take advantage of this position to move in sync. My butt is high in the air, receiving the impact of his hips every time we meet. Sweat pours down my back, over my neck.
From within, something begins to uncoil. Each motion begins to vibrate and resound. It’s an excellent feeling: the physical experience of being loved. It continues as my quivering comes to a crescendo. I tighten, I hold, I crush.
“Shiki, I’m– Shiki!”
It bursts out like an explosion, wracking me with a sensation that dominates my focus. A singular awareness of pleasure. Hips jerk backward into him with force, to enjoy every inch of movement to the greatest possible degree.
Though I am already like this, surely with some extraordinary expression on my face, he doesn’t stop for a moment. Moving at whatever pace suits him, he stirs me up from the inside out, and I follow along. Once is nothing. Twice is hardly enough. We might continue as long as we can, until exhaustion prevents either of us from continuing for another second.
Just as I thought, we continue. In all sorts of ways, with all sorts of pleasures, we find our way to the limit.
He falls back against the chaise, now completely finished. I already feel the beginnings of soreness, the sweet tinge of pain in my stomach. I rest against him for a while. Our hearts beat steadily in one strong pulse. I’m held gently now. He finds his way around my body with his hands, but slowly, idly. This is a time only for relaxation.
And yet, it isn’t enough.
Lost in a haze of exhaustion and lingering licentious pleasure, he never really saw it coming. Vermillion hair surrounds him. He is completely immobile. Trapped in a cage. The enveloping walls of red are like the inside of some great beast, the inside of myself.
A few stray locks swirl around his flaccid length, and it returns to life. Swollen with blood, practically jumping for another chance to come, all over, all inside, it doesn’t matter.
“Akiha…” He pauses for a second, completely bewildered by the circumstances. “What’s this new trick?”
“Convenient, isn’t it? As long as I’ve got surplus energy, I can give you as much as you like. In a case like this, we could continue practically forever.”
That’s a lie, technically. There’s no escaping our limits. At best, this is just a temporary way of cheating the natural order.
“I see. You’ve actually gotten pretty creative with this.”
I straddle him, keeping my lips positioned over his engorged glans. I whisper, directly into his ear, “Just sit back quietly. For now, you’re all mine.”
These rituals of courtship all go back to the copulation of animals, if you look far enough. Everything, down to the last trick of seduction. But we’ve no need for much more. Sometimes, the simplest path is best.
There was a time when this mansion was desolate. Even when it was full of residents, active with the movement of multiple servants, the place never seemed so dead. It was lonely, all the way up here. As soon as I could arrange it, I left for Asagami, and didn’t look back.
This is a place where one sits dominant above all others, but, come to think of it, two isn’t much harder to fit. Even if it’s a little more cozy, that’s alright.
I’m not touched by the cold, not by sadness nor by grief. I can bear everything, so long as I have him here to bear it with me.
This is a life shared. A debt that goes two ways. It can’t ever be fully repaid.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
-----
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Originally Posted by I3uster
