It goes on like that for a while. 

The secrecy, the careful nature with which they handle their relationship, they get used to it, they manage well, make sure not to lose each other in the process.

It is still deliciously forbidden, and Nicholas never would have thought that he’ll get to live this fantasy of his, which makes it all the more special that he finally does. 

Mom and dad leave them alone, mostly, but it is still too risky to go all the way like they want to- need to, at this point- and the danger connected to finally fucking his stepsister for real licks at his spine with more discomfort than he likes to admit. She doesn’t ask, never did again, after that first time, and despite his newfound controlling nature and incessant obsession with her, he doesn’t want to push. 

He pushes with other things, has before, but not with this. When he fully makes her his, he wants her to have demanded it beforehand. 

Holding back isn’t easy, though, never has been, with her. 

When she’s on her knees for him, begging with her eyes, he almost breaks the skin on his thigh the way he’s digging his nails in, all to hold himself back. When he loses himself between her thighs, stretching her open until she’s crying with it, he has to bite his lip bloody to keep from just sliding in without much preamble. It takes a lot of restraint, which thankfully, Nicholas does have, thank you very much. 

He finds his heart aching for her. When they’re at the breakfast table and her laugh pierces his chest, the epitome of happiness in that sharp sound; when they bicker needlessly, jokingly, about things only they have come to understand about each other; when the sun illuminates her skin just so, makes her appear like an angel before him, come to free his damned soul. 

And damned it is, for what he feels for her, for how angry it makes him, for how it causes him to act around her- towards her, even- when she deserves so much better. So much better than him. 

When the new semester starts, too soon for anyone’s liking, they decide to keep their distance at college. The last thing they need is prying eyes on them, the questions their friends would undoubtedly ask if they saw them interacting more than usual.

She doesn’t like it, he knows.

“We could just tell them that we’ve gotten closer over summer break,” she pouts, head on his chest.

He plays with her hair a little, entertains the idea, decides against it.

“Any kind of change will draw attention, (Y/N),” he drawls, “attention that we can’t afford. Not now.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Drop it,” he snaps, leaves no room for argument. It’s tearing at him, not giving her what she wants, but he’s got to be smarter than that. If he lets her push, he’ll give in, and damn them both.

The way she deflates squeezes at his heart a little, but his big brother protectiveness doesn’t allow him much leeway. 

He doesn’t fuck anyone else either, for that matter, and while her eager throat and skilled hands pull orgasm after orgasm from him whenever he demands, it’s just no comparison to what it feels like to sink into a willing, wet body, a tight pussy that he gets to shape for his cock, even if just for one night. It’s stupid, really. Hornyboy-brain is all it is. 

It costs him, inevitably. 

His friends coax him out of hiding and take him to a party to celebrate the start of the new semester and he agrees, because if there’s anything he likes, it’s the comfortably humane way the colder months announce themselves at the end of September, would leave his bare arms chilly if not for the alcohol thrumming through his system. He says yes when they ask him to come and he says to her when she asks him if she’s allowed to go with her friends and he says yes to the knee-length dress she wants to wear that night. Nicholas is in a charitable mood. 

They arrive separately, though it gnaws at him, the fact that her friend Stacy or Casey or whatever the fuck will drive them, the fact that he doesn’t know her little group and thus doesn’t trust them with her. But he has to. He’s had to so far, and all had gone well. Nicholas makes his way through sweaty bodies, smiles at a handful of familiar faces, gets himself a drink that tastes way too strong to have mercy on his liver and downs it in one go. Tonight is for letting go, and he plans to do exactly that, shed the armor of responsibility that he himself has put on his broad shoulders and just be Nick for a few hours, the Nick he was before she corrupted his every thought, every single fiber of his being. 

He knows it’s not fair to put this on her, but if he puts it on himself, he’ll break. So he lets the poison seep into his thoughts and lives with the guilt, at least for one night. Tomorrow, he’ll make her breakfast and kiss her sweetly under the shower and promise her that soon, he’ll claim her completely, and he will be hers in return. Nicholas gives as good as he gets, always has. Tonight, though, he will allow himself to be unhinged. 

The bass is pumping something fierce, making his bones shake, and he loses himself in the crowd of people dancing in the spacious living room, the mansion they’re in providing generous space. It’s beautiful here, the way the chandelier catches the colorful lights, the way they’re all here to enjoy their youth while building a future for themselves. There’s so much stress and desperation in those godforsaken lecture halls, those endlessly long hallways, but here, the feeling of freedom flows through the atmosphere so heavily they can taste it on their tongues. 

All he feels around him is skin, rubbing against his and filling his nostrils with sweet perfume, heady cologne, clean sweat. It’s intoxicating in the best way, reminds him of a time before he wound himself into knots over a woman he can’t love the way he wants to, and when he drives his hand through his damp hair, looks ahead, he can see her staring at him from where she’s perched atop the kitchen counter.

She’s sitting with her thighs slightly spread despite how high her dress is riding up, smokey eye dangerous and hair mussed as if she’d gotten fucked before this. He knows what that looks like on her, one way or another. The air around her is arrogant, little sister petulant, and it makes him grit his teeth. A drink gets handed to her by a nameless girl and she accepts it, doesn’t take her eyes off his as she lets the tip of her tongue play with the white rim of the red plastic cup, and if Nicholas wasn’t a handful of shots and two handfuls of drinks in, he’d feel anger surge in his chest. Now it’s only need, desperation in a way, recklessness. 

When an unfamiliar hand, dainty and soft, touches his arm he doesn’t back away, doesn’t stop looking at her when he grabs a wrist, spins a body around- a back to his front- and starts a slow and dirty grind that makes the hairs on his neck stand up. She’s sipping now, face unbothered if it weren’t for the fire in her eyes, the kind of fire you ought to put out immediately before it swallows you whole and makes you regret ever having lit the match. 

The girl in front of him has blonde hair down to her curvy ass, hips perfect for grabbing, and he closes his eyes when he inhales her scent, smells spice and danger, gives into it with a lick of his tongue against the side of her bared throat. The music is humming around him, but his ears are ringing, but he refuses to look up, to back down, to show his sister the power she has over him. He was a fool to think he’s got the upper hand. All that he is, all that he wants to be, starts and ends with her. 

The pair of lips pressing on his only surprise him a little, and he kisses back feverously. The taste is all wrong, the contours of her face as well, and none of it is her fault. Still he holds on, cradles a head and licks at some teeth, bites softer than he knows he’s capable of, doesn’t hand out marks where they haven’t been earned. 

When she pulls away, dirty smile playing on red lips, he exhales harshly and leans down to her ear.

“I’m gonna get a drink, you want anything?”

She shakes her head, gets on her tippy toes so he’d hear her.

“No, thank you. But will you come back?”

The cheek in his grin is as fake as his lust for her, but if there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s play it up for the big show. 

“A’course.”

It’s the first time he looks up since he allowed himself a taste of this stranger, and when he finds her glaring daggers at him, he grits his teeth and bears the pain. Making his way through the crowd proves to be easy with his height and built, and he ends up standing face to face with her sooner than he’d like. He steps between her thighs, a safe distance apart, leans his upper body closer. 

“Where are your friends?”

“Doing coke in the bathroom.”

“Are you serious?” His fists clench.

She shrugs, nods once.

“You’ll never see them again, you hear me?”

He can’t hear her scoff, but he can see it, can see the corners of her mouth turning up cruelly while the heat in her eyes goes from a simmer to a boil in zero point two seconds. 

“What about blondie? You gonna see her again after tonight? Or is this just another one of your hump and dump stories, hm, Nicholas?” 

He deserves this, but he hates it, nevertheless.

“That’s none of your business, (Y/N).”

He knows it’s mean for no reason, but he can’t help it. He can’t have her the way he wants, the way he needs, for now and forever, so why even bother? Why prolong the inevitable, spend years gathering ammunition only to shoot himself in the heart, kill her in the process? Nicholas thought he knew what pain was. She came along and showed him how she could prove him wrong. 

“Do you get off on talking to me like that? Like you haven’t-“ her voice breaks, she swallows hard before continuing, “-like you haven’t spent all day today holding me, telling me how beautiful I am in my dress, how beautiful I made myself look for you. And now look at you. Hanging onto the first girl that throws herself at you.”

The monster in him that’s been clawing its way to the surface decides right then and there to bear its ugly head.

“Beats sitting alone and watching the person that won’t fuck me try to fuck someone else.” 

His words slice through her, deflating her with one sentence. His ears are ringing again, for a different reason this time. Nicholas can’t believe he just said that. Put the girl he loves in front of him in a room full of spectators and started distributing lash after lash, watching her bleed out because of him. He doesn’t notice the moment his hands start shaking, the moment the bile starts rising in his throat, the glass of her teary eyes the only thing he can focus on. Knows he can’t take this back, wishes he could, thinks it might be for the better. 

If this is something he’s capable of, he’s never deserved her in the first place.

He starts walking backwards in a daze when her hard voice stops him.

“Fuck you if you go back to her, Nicholas.”

In a voice that he doesn’t recognize, he says, “Fuck me, then.”

*** 

He ends up not doing it. 

The girl- Tara is her name, as it turns out- doesn’t seem to mind much, hands him his shirt that she gracelessly tore from his body, presses a small kiss to his cheek. 

“’m gonna go back to the party, ‘kay?”

He nods wordlessly and waits until he hears the click of the door closing, then lets himself fall heavily onto the bed in the guest room of the house. He thinks about locking the door, but his legs feel like lead, preventing him from getting up. What the hell is he doing? What the hell was he thinking, talking to her like that? His baby, his (Y/N), the girl that relies on him so heavily yet twists his heart into knots until it feels like it’s going to stop.

If he goes there with her, he knows, he’s never letting her go, and what good would that do for her? Her brilliant little self would be stuck with him, with his average grades and later his average job, hiding from their family and friends, putting on a front so they wouldn’t be questioned; with his bad temper and violent grip, his loud voice and the fear, the guilt that eats at him day in and day out. He’d pluck that beautiful rose from a prosperous garden and watch it wilt on his windowsill. Gladly, at that, so long as it’s within his eyeshot. 

Nicholas can’t do that to her. Thinking about letting her go kills him, but he can’t do that to her. 

He fixes his clothes and his hair before stepping out of the room and into the booming of the music downstairs, looking around to make sure nobody saw him. Sneaking out of the house is easy now that everyone’s too drunk to pay him any mind and he almost makes it to his car that he’s parked two houses down- away from anyone that might stumble outside and fuck with it- but luck is not on his side tonight and he gets noticed.

“How was it, huh, Nick?” he hears her voice, slurred and mean, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

Not here, not now, not like this, please. But he can’t move when she goes on.

“Was she good for you? Obedient, just the way you like? She let you throw her around, make you feel like a real big man, huh? Answer me!”

Her grip is tight as she grabs him and turns him to face her, albeit clumsily. He lets her, because at this point, he deserves every hiss and snarl she sends his way. No, he won’t answer her, same way he won’t meet her eyes, can’t.

“Why don’t you want me?” she sobs, lets her head fall forward to rest against his chest. Nicholas inhales sharply, his sight getting blurry. “I try so hard, and yet… you just don’t wan’ me. Did you get bored, is that it? Is there- Can I do anything to- to-“

“Stop!” he snaps, grabs her by her shoulders and pulls her away, looks at that tear streaked face, those blotchy cheeks, that cherry red mouth. Wants to kiss it, reels himself in, hates himself for even the thought. “(Y/N), please… please don’t.”

All at once, her face hardens.

“Don’t what!” she screams, makes him scared that someone will overhear their heated argument, but the lawn is empty of people and every house on the street is dark. “You don’t, Nicholas! Where the fuck is all of this coming from?” 

His eyes close without his say-so, trying so hard to keep his patience in check. 

“You’re the one who’s throwing this all away, and for what?” she continues, oblivious to the sound of his heart cracking. “For that girl in there? She that good, Nick?” He tenses when she gets close again, the tequila on her breath making him nauseous as she nuzzles his cheek with her nose, starts peppering his skin with kisses. “I can be just as good, big brother, I promise. Let you do anything you wan’, don’t gotta have any limits, not with you. Please, Nicholas. Please, just gimme a chance, wanna prove it to you, wanna be your good little girl, pl-“ 

“I said fucking stop it, (Y/N),” he yells when he can’t take it anymore, grabs her hair in a tight fist and yanks her head back, makes her look up at him. He’s seen that fear in her eyes before- seen it directed at him, even- but it’s always been clouded by lust, by need. Now it’s pure, unadulterated, and it makes him swallow down bile. “You think that I don’t want you, stupid girl? You think I don’t die a little every time you fucking ask me for this, and I have to say no? What have we been doing that you think this isn’t all I want? All I fucking want, you hear me?”

His cheeks are damp but he doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to stop. 

“It’s all I want,” he finishes weakly, presses his face into her hair as he tries to calm his breathing down. He loosens his grip while he’s at it, suddenly aware of every strained muscle in his body. Nicholas feels bone-deep tired. 

“So why deny us, huh? Why are you doing this to-“

“All I want,” he starts, voice hard through how shaky he’s feeling, “is to take you to parties and dance with you and kiss you when you’re tipsy, feel you up a little, take you home and tuck you into bed but I can’t. And all I want is to hold your fucking hand when we walk down the halls of our college, but I can’t. I can’t tell my friends about you, I can’t know if you’re only mine when I let you go out with your fucking friends, I can’t have any of that. How much longer, huh? How much longer can we take the hiding until it fuckin’ breaks us, baby?” 

He just wants her to see. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s doing this for her.

The tremble in her lips makes his stomach turn, knowing his words are the cause for it.

“So why pursue me in the first place, Nicholas?” she snaps, angry now, and it makes his temper rise. As if she’s the only one hurt by this. “Why not leave me alone, huh? You are the one who started this, and you pushed and you pushed and now you’re, what, scared? You should’ve just left me be, fuck!”

“Do you think I knew I’d fall in love with you when I first started this?” he bellows, ears ringing at the urgency of his words, the anger, threatening to choke him if he doesn’t get them out, consequences be damned. His grip on her arms tightens despite her wide-eyed stare. “I didn’t fuckin’ like you, (Y/N), I couldn’t stand you when I first had you. I wanted to fuck you up for being such a brat. But then,” all his bravado, all the air in his lungs leaves him at once and he gentles his hands, moves them into her hair as he eyes her face. That beautiful face. “But then you turned out to be the best girl f’me. Just needed a firm grip, didn’t you? Needed your big brother’s guidance.” 

There are tears streaming down her rosy cheeks again, stirring up something ugly in his gut. 

“You fucking ruined me, is what you did, and now that I’m trying to be selfless for once, you won’t let me! What the fuck do you want from me, huh? Fuck you!” 

She’s staring at him slack-jawed, eyes wide, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s angry and he’s drained and he wishes he were numb. There’s still some tequila in his father’s cabinet, he’ll sneak that when he gets home, drink it by the pool and do his best not to drown himself in the chlorine filled water. 

He shakes her off and steps away. “Call a cab when you decide to go home, don’t you fucking dare get in a car with those whore friends of yours, y’hear me? I mean it, (Y/N). I see you coming home in anything other than a taxi, I’ll make you regret it in a way you won’t like.” 

There’s that fear again, but that’s a good thing. Maybe that’ll make her stay away. He’s too out of it to drive, so he walks.  

*** 

He heard her enter the house last night, saw the cab drive off. It didn’t take her long to come home, and by then, Nicholas had already abandoned his plans of drinking himself into a stupor. Better to avoid that hellish hangover. He’s proud of himself today.

Leaving his room is not much of an option to him and when he really does have to, he first makes sure she’s nowhere to be found. He sneaks food into his room and only uses the bathroom once his bladder feels like bursting. It’s a small price to pay for avoiding the awkwardness that’d come with running into her.

Monday comes around and they have to leave for classes at the same time, which means they have to get ready at the same time. Nick isn’t looking forward to that. 

She stumbles out of her room when he’s on his way back to his from the bathroom, and the tense eye contact they make feels like it’s inevitable. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but he steps aside and disappears before she can, heart in his throat. He hates this. Hates it so much, wishes he didn’t have to do it, wills himself not to give in. 

The next few days pass by like that, with the air thick around them. She tries, always does, his girl isn’t one to back down that easily. For once he wishes she would.

At breakfast she sits next to him, drives her toes along his calf. He ignores it, keeps chewing his oatmeal. 

“Nicholas, please,” she whispers, conscious of their parents bustling around the house, getting ready for work. “Let’s talk.” 

It only takes a moment, but his appetite is gone. He lets his spoon fall into the bowl with a clink before he pushes his chair back, its scraping against the floor undoubtedly making gooseflesh appear on her skin, and he gets up to leave the room. Healthy breakfast and heartbroken little sister abandoned behind him, but that’s what he’s got to do. 

In the bathroom when he’s getting ready for bed, she steps behind him, presses her chest to his naked back, surely feels his pulse hammering. She knows his weak spots, so it slices like a knife when she whimpers, “Big brother, please… Please, don’t do this,” into his ear, and it takes all of his willpower to not slam her against the door and ravish her mouth right then and there. He bends to spit in the sink, doesn’t bother wiping his mouth before his sharp elbow finds her body, doesn’t hit but shoves her firmly away from him so he can exit the room. Her inhale, sharp from the hurt he just caused, stays with him until he falls into a fitful sleep. 

Ignoring her is the highest form of cruelty she thinks he can allow himself right now, but Nicholas knows better. It’d be crueler to take her for himself, keep her, keep her away from everyone and everything that isn’t him, because that is what he wants. And she’d let him. Stupid, wide-eyed girl she is, she’d let him. And he’d hate himself for it. Hate how much he’d love it.

It's been so long that he’s surprised that he still recognizes the sound of it, but once he hears it, he can’t ignore it. Grip tight on that last thread of patience, he waits with clenching fists for her bedroom door to open before he storms into the hallway, grabs her throat and slams her against the wall next to the bathroom door. Her gasp of surprise gets lost to him when he sees the apprehension, borderline fear in her eyes, but he ignores it. Finds her hand and wrenches the soiled toy from her grip, throws it on the ground and, without breaking eye-contact, crunches it under his foot. 

It satisfies him for only a second, then he feels numb.

“Who do I go to now, when I have this… problem?” she asks, voice small, and even the thought of her with someone else makes him boil over with rage.

Making sure she hears every syllable he mutters; Nicholas gets close to hiss, “I ever see you with someone else, it’ll be the end of you both, do you fucking hear me?” 

He knows it’s unfair, but she needs to know that, despite everything, she’ll never not belong to him. Not while they share a roof. 

He waits for her shaky nod before he disappears again, leaves her leaning against the wall. 

*** 

Nicholas is unsure of her play here. She doesn’t let up, no matter how many times she’s shrugged off, rejected, ignored. It pains him immensely to do that to her, but what choice does he have? His obsession had reached a new, scary height, and he doesn’t want to bear the weight of her ruin on his conscience. 

It's almost midnight, he’s had a long, shitty day- hell, a shitty week, even- and he’s looking forward to a hot shower and the softness of his mattress under his aching back. Steps sluggish, he makes his way into the kitchen, sees the leftover lasagna in the microwave and decides to heat it up despite the late hour. He’s got to be up in six hours. Fuck his life. 

He doesn’t know what’s wearing him down the most: how stressful college has been lately, how tense the atmosphere at home leaves him, or the fact that he hasn’t gotten off in days, all his fantasies looping back to his little stepsister, making him even more frustrated than before; but when he hears the pitter patter of her naked feet approaching him, he leans his forehead against the cabinet and pleads instead of ignoring, “Not now, (Y/N). Please. I can’t. Not now.”

Nicholas knows he’s a cruel man, knows what he’s capable of, how low he can stoop when he needs to, but let it be said, once and for all, that his girl is not a smidge better than he is. She observes, memorizes, pouts, attacks. She puts herself back together for the sole purpose of him having something to chip away at. That is his doing, he knows. He’s carved her into an entirely new animal. 

Rosy scent fills his nostrils when she plasters herself to his back, and he doesn’t need to look to know how stunning she is.

“Did you mean it, big brother?” she rasps, intertwines her hands in front of his stomach. At his questioning hum, she clarifies, “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?” 

The pain slices through his gut like a dull knife, and he’s so, so tired. 

He nods.

“I know,” she says, “I’ve known for a while. I can feel it.”

It’s just about the worst thing she could’ve said, her words hitting and making him crumble as he swiftly turns around, ears ringing with rage. It doesn’t take much to bring her to her knees, pliant as she is, and as soon as her glossy eyes meet his, her head cracks to the right, the shape of his palm immediately blossoming on her cheek. 

The microwave dings, but the sound is not nearly enough to snap him out of his delirium. 

Her cheeks feel soft against his fingertips when he grips them, turns her head to look at him. 

“Yeah?” he hisses, lets go and strikes her again, in the opposite direction this time. “You feelin’ it, huh? You feel loved right now, baby?” 

One more, then one more, one more, he loses count. She starts crying because this is a trigger point for her tears, he smirks devilishly because he knows that, of course he fucking knows that. But she lets him. Looks up at him again and again, after every strike, silent begging in her eyes as if she’s saying if this is what it takes to have you, I’ll give it to you, if this is what you need, I shall give it to you.

It fills him with rage, sadness, gratitude. A mix of emotions that threatens to overwhelm him. 

By the time he’s done, her cheeks are fiery red and tear stained, the skin of his hands pulsing slightly. She took it like a champ, despite the snot running down to her lip, despite her labored breathing. 

God, he’s so stupid for not checking if their parents are asleep. He should’ve, but he lost himself in her. If they had gotten caught, it would’ve been her fault, yet again. 

“That’s what it’s like, with me,” he breathes, gets really close so he can whisper those words into her mouth. “’s that what you want, little girl? Is that what love is, huh?” 

She doesn’t skip a beat.

“With us it is,” she sobs, eyes darting down to his lips and back to the chocolate of his eyes. “I love you, Nicholas.” 

Hearing those words come from that gorgeous mouth is like a round of buckshot to his brain, and he gives in, gives in to the heaven and the hell that awaits him. 

She’s easy for him to pick up- his body made to support hers, he feels like- and she immediately wraps her legs around his waist, finds his hair and pulls him towards her cherry red lips. They taste like salt and a rotten promise and he’ll take that over the heartbreak he’s felt these past few weeks any day. 

This house has been his home for long enough that he doesn’t need to watch where he’s going as he walks them to the bathroom, doesn’t need to detach his mouth from hers, doesn’t have to stop the suck of his lips around her tongue. Seating her onto the countertop, he pushes away gently and locks the door, starts the shower, takes his shirt off as he watches her do the same. Nimble fingers undo her pants, his strong grip tears them off her long legs, leaving her in a sweet matching pair of underwear. Meant for daily use, comfortable, not for the debauchery he plans for tonight. 

Well, not plans exactly, he thinks as he undoes his own belt, gets rid of his own pants under her watchful gaze. He wasn’t planning this, and he doubts that she was, either. He’s following something that feels like instinct, is taking his time as if he’s seeing her for the first time. Maybe he is, in a new light, at least. The way her eyes sparkle as they trace him top to bottom, he assumes it’s the same for her. 

They don’t break eye contact when he removes her underwear first, then his own, no need for greedy gazes. This is theirs, has been theirs, from the beginning of time. This feels like coming home. 

Legs around his torso again, one wide step into the shower, matching sighs as the steam of the hot water engulfs them. Careful not to get her hair wet, Nick angles her away from the stream, kisses her until her grip on him is lax enough to let go. An exchange of words is not needed as they watch each other through hooded eyes, as they use gentle hands and familiarly scented products to wash each other, prepare each other, take care of each other. The knot in his stomach is the tightest it’s ever been, and he knows it’s because added to the pleasure and lust is now the undoubted thrum of love he feels for her. He can’t wait to release that into her body, cock so hard it makes his skin vibrate.

While rinsing her off, he leans down to whisper, “You’re so beautiful, little girl. Your face, your body, they will bruise after tonight.”

Her head falls back onto his shoulder, getting the tiny curls on her nape wet. 

“Wanna hurt for you,” she whimpers, lip trembling. Her tears are barely visible through the steam. “I’ve missed it, Nicholas, you have no idea.”

And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?

He indeed has no idea. He has no idea how she so willingly presents herself for slaughter by his hand. He thought himself sick and twisted, but her naked need makes even his veins run cold. 

“God, you’re so fucked, (Y/N),” he chuckles, no humor behind it. He turns her around forcefully, doesn’t ease his grip on her upper arm. He tilts his voice down a notch, coos, “Did you get dropped on your head as a baby, sweetheart? Did mommy and daddy not love you enough as a child? What happened to you that crossed your wires enough to let me do this to you, huh? Have you got no self-respect at all?”

It's all her fault. He wants, but so does she. He needs, and she lets him. Her fault. 

Her smile is gentle, almost sad, when she reaches up and tucks away a strand of his hair. 

“Maybe it’s just you.” 

Huh. Maybe it is. 

His lips feel numb as they press against hers, insistent tongue making itself a home in her too-honest mouth, and together they stumble through the process of drying each other’s skin, following rubs of a towel with kisses and licks. It’s their floor so they have no qualms about leaving the bathroom naked, and he leads them into his room automatically. He wants her surrounded by his scent, drowning in it, claimed on the outside the same way he’s going to claim her on the inside. 

Nibbling teeth graze his pounding pulse point before she whispers, “Do me bare tonight, big brother. ‘ve been on the pill for weeks now.” 

That request, those tiny words, make his brain short circuit for a second before he smashes his body into hers, throws them onto the bed together. He kisses every inch of skin he can reach without moving his head too far away from hers, wants her to see the fire in his eyes. 

“Made for me, weren’t you?” he pants between presses of lips, between the sounds of her moans, “Oughta thank your parents for this masterpiece, this wretched little fuckdoll they’ve gifted me, fuck. ‘m gonna load you up so good, you’ll have to pray that none of it takes.” 

She whines all little sister overwhelmed, grabby hands on his toned body, seeking out the cock he hasn’t let her touch in weeks. She’s a come greedy girl, always has been, playing with it every chance she gets. Tonight, he’ll make sure to breed her up good so she can find new games for her body to play. It’s his turn right now, though, the hunger for her body clawing its way up his dry throat. Skilled togue licking a path down her neck, between her breasts, over her soft tummy and to her throbbing mound, Nicholas doesn’t break eye contact as he licks a sweep across her center.

Her legs fall open obscenely, as far as they will go, and her wide eyes don’t dare look away from his face. He’s got her right where he wants her, pinned like an insect under his heated gaze.

“Missed this cunt,” he moans, parts her swollen lips with his tongue before teasing at her dripping hole, smirking at the way it’s pulsing. “Even though you haven’t been good for me, I know nothing can fill my little girl up the way this fat cock can.”

“B-been good, only t-touched once,” she stammers, and he chuckles darkly.

“Aw, only once and I caught you doin’ it? Unlucky.”

Her knuckles in her mouth keep her from screaming as he starts sucking ruthlessly on her clit, thumbs pushing her pussylips apart to tease at her entrance. He’s not going to give her prep, wants her tight and wet around him, wants to punish-fuck that cunt apart and show her what happens when she’s being a tempting little whore.

It doesn’t take long for her orgasm to crash through her smooth body, making her grip the sheets as hard as she’s gripping his hair, causing him to hide his hiss in her skin. It’s okay, though, she can hurt him all she wants. It’ll never compare to what he’s going to do to her. Spitting her own juices into her mouth and watching her swallow them down greedily, open her up for more, makes him feral. He wants to drench her in everything he can give her. 

“Nasty bitch,” he grins, makes her whine in delicious embarrassment, spits onto her tongue and smacks her on the mouth as she gulps it down. 

“Yours, Nicholas,” she moans, “Say it, please, say it, make me.”

“You’re mine,” he moans, bites into the delicate skin of her neck and holds her down through her scream. He draws a smidge of blood, can taste it, keeps it for himself. “You’ve been mine, and you always will be mine. Nobody gets to have you like I do, to fuck you up the way I will.” 

“Wan’ it, ‘m not scared.” 

That statement makes a cruel laugh escape his throat as he climbs up her body, places his knees on either side of her head, grips his cock in one hand and smacks it on her stuck out tongue a couple times, revels in her whining. His balls are aching something fierce, but it’s easier to take now that he knows she’s there to let him dump all that come inside of her.

“You oughta be,” he smirks before he grabs her hair and shoves his dick as far back into her throat as it will go, no preamble, no mercy. 

She chokes immediately, because of course she does, he hasn’t given her any time to adjust, but he doesn’t care. Nicholas’ mission for tonight is to show her that he owns her fully, and if he says she doesn’t need a voice for speaking, then he’s the one who gets to take that away from her. 

“Yeah, take that dick,” he groans through grit teeth, guiding her head back and forth the way he likes, the way she wishes she could take him, but he makes sure to keep control and have her struggle one hundred percent. “Missed this, didn’t you? Choke f’me, little girl, that’s a good stepsister.”

The thrashing sound behind him comes from her legs, but she makes no move to give him their agreed-upon sign for when she can’t safeword out, and he takes advantage of that fully. Pulls out, slaps his spit-soaked length across that gorgeous face, pushes back in. Groans at her constricting throat, cants his hips up to feel her chin against his full balls. When her tears and spit and sobs have satisfied him enough, he gets off her and pulls her into his lap, kisses her deeply.

“Need you,” she sobs against his mouth, licks his bottom lip, “Wanna feel you fucking me, I’ve waited so long, Nicholas.” 

Who is he to deny his babysister anything? 

He keeps her in his lap as he lines his cock up with her drenched pussy and pulls her down as he thrusts up in one fluid motion. A wide palm muffles her screams, and already he’s addicted to the feeling of making sure her agony goes unnoticed. It’s probably ripping at her walls on the inside, the way he so ruthlessly gave her the entirety of him, but he wants her to feel it, wants her to keep feeling it for days. 

Her body is lax, but he doesn’t mind, gives her his bicep to hold on to, snaps his hips up to feed the tightest little hole he’s ever been in, fighting through the dizziness. 

“That’s a good baby, fuck,” he pants, sucks at her chin, “yeah, scream for me. Let everyone know what your brother is doing to that cunt, you sick little fuck.”

“So de-e-ep, N-Nick,” she whines in gargled syllables, and he grins as he punches up.

“Not gonna stop ‘til your cervix is the same color as my cockhead, y’hear me?” 

“Fuck,” she whines from deep within her chest, ruts her hips against his as if in heat, and he can’t suppress the nasty grin that makes its way onto his face.

This is her being delirious with need, unapologetic in the way she’s chasing her pleasure, selfless with how she’s breathing through the pain he’s undoubtedly causing her just so he can feel good. She was made for him; he’s never been surer of anything in his messed up little life. 

A large palm on her stomach, a slight push, has her tearing up. “You feel me here, baby? I’m turning your body inside out, y’feel it?”

A shaky nod, nothing more.

He fucks her like that for a while, hauls her up and down his cock, meets her on the comedown, bites and sucks at the skin of her face and tastes the salt there. Nicholas has been close ever since he stuck his dick inside her sister-sweet pussy, but he’s good at holding it off. That self-control he keeps talking about, as you can see. He’s proud of himself.

When her body seizes up at one particularly hard thrust, he knows he’s got her number.

“That the spot, huh, baby?” he grins, bites his lip in concentration as he hits it again, gaze never leaving her bug-eyed stare. “That the spot I own? The little spot your big brother’s gonna make you come with?” 

“G-gonna, plea-please, need- need it, b-big brother, n-“

“Let go for me, (Y/N). Lemme feel my baby’s cunt clench around this fat cock.” 

It’s pure porn, the way they fuck, the way they talk- but it’s heaven, the way she clenches around him and comes with a choked cry. Her heart is hammering against his chin where he’s got it pressed to her chest, looking up at that ecstasy-stricken face. If this is heaven, she is his God. 

The fact that he has to use most of his strength to hold her down when she comes surprises him, pushes him so close to climax he has to grit his teeth until they hurt so he wouldn’t let go so soon. Her body is spasming, trying to buck off him, but he’s willed to fuck her through it until she’s shaking with it, nearing overstimulation. Once she’s done, breathing labored but body lax, he grabs her thighs and flips them so he’s on top of her, nestled deep within her guts and comfortable. When he starts giving it to her from that position, her hands start flailing until they find his back, short nails digging into his sweat-soaked skin.

“Yeah, jus’ lie there and take it,” he groans, nails her g-spot with every trust, knows where it is blindly. “Good little girl, good little fucktoy. Fuck, making my cock feel so good.”

“You’re fucking me,” she’s gasping, genuinely surprised as if she’s been in a trance so far. “Your cock is inside me. Your big fucking cock. And you’re fucking me. Fuck, Nicholas… fuck.”

It’s then that she comes again, taking them both off-guard, and Nicholas has to still completely so he wouldn’t just cream her tight pussy up right then and there. She works him good, too good. 

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he laughs, as if mesmerized, “what the fuck are you doing to me.” 

Her tears are running freely now, body shaking under his as he lines himself up and pushes in in one long, brutal thrust, giving her no time to adjust before he’s hiking her legs up over his shoulders and snapping his hips into hers. He’s close and he can feel it, bites his lip as he stares into her clouded eyes. There’s droplets of his sweat on her face and he moans when her sweet tongue darts out and licks some of them up. She’s his. She’s his and he’s hers but she is his. 

“Fuck, fuck- oh baby, gonna-“

“Come inside me, big brother,” she breathes, voice shot. “Give your baby your babies.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and lets go, loses all his brain capacity along with his load, slumps over her powerlessly when he finishes. The way she immediately starts stroking his back makes him smile into the skin of her neck, pressing a small kiss there. 

They hold each other, sweaty and sated and bone-deep tired. 

“Y’re mine now,” he whispers into the side of her face, kisses here there.

She hums.

“Been yours for a long time now, Nicholas.” 

He supposes she has. 

*** 

It’s a slow process, the getting closer without raising suspicion. They start with hanging out more, talking more where people can hear them, helping each other out with assignments and chores. Their parents love it, how they’re getting along better than ever.

 What they’ll never know is that it’s been a long while since they’ve slept in separate beds, that almost every night Nicholas fucks (Y/N) to tears while whispering what a good little sister she’s being to her big brother, that they’re the same brand of twisted and loving it. They’ll never know that each piece of furniture they help their kids pick out for the new apartment they’re moving into together, in a city far away that offers better postgrad programs than the college in the one they live in, will have their combined juices on it at some point. They’ll never know why exactly (Y/N) let herself get officially adopted by Nicholas’ father, why she chose to take on the last name everyone else in the family has been carrying for years now. They’ll never know that in that city, their kids don’t tell anyone that they’re stepsiblings, but that they’re a young married couple, having moved shortly after the wedding to start a new life together, that the little detail about their relation is something they only mention when Nicholas is balls-deep inside his little girl and wants to make her even wetter than she was before. They’ll never know that Nicholas loses his temper, sometimes, and decorates their little girl’s cheek with his fingerprints. They’ll never know how she cries when he does, but he’s her big brother who knows what’s best for her, so she lets him. 

They’d never understand that this is what makes them happy. They’re together, they’re happy, and it’s all his doing. He did this, built this relationship up, nurtured it into something livable. He did this, not her. 

He did.