#stepbro!nicholas

PART 1 / 2:

It started a couple of years back, when she first came into his life, fists swinging and lips cursing. She hated it, hated being part of this family, hated the new house she moved into, hated his father, hated him.

It was a lot for her to take in, and he understood. He, too, had some nights where he had to clench his teeth through the onslaught of tears, fuming at the fact that his mother just up and left them like that, moved to fucking Italy to be with Sergio or Francesco or whatever the fuck his name is, giving up everything she had in her life, including her only son. It hurt, but he bore it, and that was the main difference between them, wasn’t it? Where she was loud and rebellious, a little spitfire, he was quiet and brooding, preferring to keep a low profile.

He's just glad she got used to it, over time, even building a solid relationship with her stepfather. He was grateful for the mother figure his stepmom posed in his life, as well, he had missed having that. 

The two of them, though? 

Acquaintances rather than stepsiblings, and he couldn’t pick between hating the frost between them or being thankful for the emotional distance, considering his feelings towards her. Feelings he doesn’t- can’t- talk about. 

They grew into their adult years together, and the older they got, the more he’s had to try to resist her, his rational brain reminding him of what it’d look like, the rest of his body yearning for her in ways he didn’t even know were possible. 

He’s also glad they both decided to stay home for college, so he can keep an eye on her, brotherly love and all that. Their house isn’t big, but three slim stories high, and he shares the top floor with her, his bedroom next to hers, a bathroom across the hall, blessedly far away from where their parents sleep one floor down. The walls are thin, too, so he can make sure she isn’t sneaking out at night, or taking phone calls she isn’t supposed to be having, and-

He's protective, sue him.

“Nick, have you seen my tanning oil?” she calls from just outside his door, making him look up from the video game he’s playing. 

His frustration runs deep, he’s getting fucking obliterated.

“It’s not in the cabinet?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking!”

“Maybe you left it downstairs yesterday?”

They’re on summer break, and every day, like clockwork, she spends her whole morning tanning her skin, lounging by the pool, reading a book. This past semester has been hard on her, he knows, so she didn’t exactly have time for a job on the side, which means going away on vacation is not in the cards for her right now. He’d love for them to go away together, he’d pay for it no problem, but there’s no way in hell she’d ever say yes to that, so he stays home and sulks. But only a little. He doesn’t mind.

He looks out the window and sees her stomping towards the sunbed, bending down in her tiny bikini that’s showing off her ass and straightening out with the bottle of oil clutched tightly in her hand. She turns towards where his window is and smiles at him, giving him a thumbs up that makes him feel warm on the inside. 

Here’s another thing he loves about having a room on this floor, apart from getting to share it with her: his big window has a very clear view of their garden including the pool, where he can watch her skimpy swimsuit-clad body, covered in oil, at that, for as long as he wants, but if he stands to the side just so, he also gets a glimpse of the spacious outdoor shower their parents insisted on building last summer. It’s perfect to rinse off in after the mud treatments they like to put on in their outdoor sauna, but also perfect to clean yourself in after you’ve doused your body in oil that you don’t want to soil the inside bathroom with, the way his sister prefers to do. He can’t see everything from there, especially not without getting caught- one look up and his hiding spot would be busted- but he can see enough to satisfy his need to feel closer to her, see more of her, his delusion of connection being fed plenty. 

And so he patiently waits for her to get tired of laying around, for her to start feeling too hot under the rays of the August sun, for her to pack up her stuff and languidly move to the shower. Nicholas gets up from his desk and discreetly positions himself just right, just to see enough of the shower. It’s built in a spiral with the showerhead in the middle, and she hangs up her silk robe outside and then walks in, hands already reaching behind herself to pull the strings of her top, making it fall away. This is a sight he’ll never grow tired of: her full breasts on display, perky nipples hard from the change in temperature, making his mouth water for a taste. He’d treat them so well, suck them so good. 

Next are her bottoms, and this is where his line of sight isn’t cutting it properly, he can’t see past the curve of her ass or the spot where her stomach becomes her mound, but he’s okay with it, okay with imagining it without knowing exactly. It makes it sweeter, in a way, lets the anticipation build for what he hopes will someday become an inevitability. 

Grabbing the bottle of shower gel from the rack on the wall and spreading it on her loofa generously, she starts cleaning herself, rubbing her small hands all over that smooth skin, getting rid of the oil that made her look shiny and lickable. Nicholas feels his cock stir but he doesn’t do anything about it, the risk of getting caught too high. He can explain away why he’s standing by his window, but there’s no explanation for why he’s looking outside with his cock in his hand. He just commits every moment to memory and jerks off after, that’s how it’s always been. 

Always, up until now, apparently, because she does something he’s never seen her do before: she leans against the wall, just outside of the stream of water, and lets one hand trail down her stomach, very obviously stopping at her pussy and keeping it there. Her other hand grabs at her breast as she throws her head back, and Nicholas audibly moans when he realizes that fuck, his stepsister is touching herself under the shower. He knows it’s wrong to watch, has known since the very first time he did, having to squash the guilt day in and day out, but he couldn’t look away now if he tried. 

Hand grabbing his cock through his shorts, he palms at the hardness of it, bites his lip when she does, wishes he could look down at her body the way she does, see what she’s doing to that undoubtedly sweet pussy of hers. It’s like his brain has been switched off when he plunges his hand into his underwear and grasps his rock hard dick, not pulling it out but giving himself enough room for movement as he desperately jerks it, speeding up when he sees her arm moving faster, not daring to shut his eyes as he watches her close hers and come with her face scrunched up. It doesn’t take him long and he’s right there with her, spilling his load hot all over himself, uncaring because what he just witnessed was the hottest thing of his life.

She sighs heavily, judging by the movement of her chest, and he sees her clean herself quickly before shutting the water off and grabbing the towel that’s hanging to the side.

He doesn’t stay to watch her walk out. 

*** 

He acts normal around her, because of course he does, what else is he supposed to do? They eat dinner together every night, as a family, they go to the movies every now and then, when there’s something good on and her friends are busy, he drives her home from parties, when his friends decide to drink and make him the designated driver of the group. 

Such is the case tonight, after a few students from their college had one too many at the bar crawl and he offered to take some of them home. After dropping off his last friend from the group, it’s just the two of them in the car.

“You never drink,” she mumbles, watching the streetlights as they drive by.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Just not my thing.”

She scoffs. “I feel like you’d be a lot more fun if you did.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This is a level of honesty she wouldn’t allow herself without liquid courage. 

“Why’s that?”

“Dunno,” she shrugs. “You’re a little… stuck-up. Actually, no. You’re strict.”

He smiles softly.

“I guess I am. You had fun tonight?”

She grins at him when he looks over at her.

“Fuck yeah. Gave Sam my number, he said he’d text me tomorrow.” 

Jealousy flares in his chest, bright and ugly, and he grips the steering wheel to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret.

“Oh, really? I heard he’s bad news, (Y/N).”

She clicks her tongue, all sass, before she replies, “People talk, but it’s mainly bullshit. He’s a good guy.”

He lets her answer hang in the air, out of things to contribute to this stupid conversation. Fuckin’ Sam, of all people. 

After a while, she speaks up again.

“What about you? I never see you with anyone.”

He smiles to himself, shrugging.

“I date around a bit, nothing serious. I don’t have the capacity for it right now.”

I’m too focused on you, he doesn’t say. It’s been around two weeks since he’s had sex, choosing to hit up a girl from class every now and then, when his frustration gets too intense, but he’s not really interested in anything but the physical, with nobody. Well, nobody apart from his stepsister, of course.

They arrive at home, and he parks the car, turns it off and looks to his right where she’s sitting.

“Lots of girls have a crush on you, Nicholas,” she whispers, doesn’t look at him, “I hear them talk. They want you.”

He knows, but he doesn’t care.

“Yeah? And how does that make you feel, to hear them thirsting after your big brother?”

He’s tethering on an edge, here, and he’s aware of it. They don’t really talk about what they are to each other, they don’t really talk at all, actually, but he throws caution in the wind and hopes her drunk self will let him get away with it.

Her eyes are hard when they meet his, albeit for just a second.

“I think it’s stupid,” she mumbles, “none of them are good enough for you.” With that she undoes her seatbelt and gets out, bends down to look at him one more time, says, “Thank you for the ride, Nick,” and slams the door shut.

He sits there long after she’s walked into the house. 

*** 

When he hears a slight, insistent buzzing sound, he first thinks it’s tinnitus. He pops his ears, digs a knuckle in to try to make it stop before deciding that, nope, it’s not coming from within his head. It’s coming from the other side of the wall.

Seeing as the walls are paper-thin, Nicholas hears most of what goes on in her room, as does she when he doesn’t watch how loud he’s being in his.

He doesn’t listen to music loudly, instead he opts for using his headphones, because he knows she loves to read and prefers a quiet atmosphere to do so. She stops her singing and humming at around ten p.m., because she knows he’s a ridiculously light sleeper and can hear every sound she makes. They look out for each other, as siblings are supposed to, no matter their relation.

But he’s never heard buzzing before, especially not like this, it’s too drawn out for it to be her phone leaned against the wall, signaling a call. Is it a hair clipper? In her room? No way, why would she-

“Oh… oh, fuck,” he hears, her voice high and breathy, and-

Oh. Oh. 

Heat crawls up his neck as he lets the realization sink in, tries his best to stay still and not press his head against the wall to listen in further. He lasts exactly eleven seconds before he’s scooting across his bed to get as close as possible, to hear as much as he can. 

Her moans are stifled but they’re audible nonetheless, making his cock stir. The buzzing must be a vibrator, something she apparently has never used before, because he would’ve heard it if it was the same as this one. Or maybe she’s only used it when he was out of the house, which makes an uncomfortable feeling spread in his gut. Why is she hiding this from him? What else is she hiding from him? 

Nicholas reels himself in through the fog of horniness clouding his mind, reminds himself that she isn’t hiding anything, per se, reminds himself that she’s got a right to privacy, and he is crossing many lines by doing what he does, but. He can’t help it, alright? He needs her, he adores her. 

So he presses his ear against the wall above his headboard, works his pants open and takes his cock out, and bites his lip to keep from moaning right along with her as he listens to her labored breathing, the strong buzzing of the toy that’s pressed- into her pussy? against her pussy?- and the slight whimper that escapes her every now and then. He’s always only imagined what she’d sound like, but now he’s got her actual noises in his ears, and he saves those sounds to his spank bank to get off to forever. God, he can’t believe she’s so vocal even when she’s undoubtedly trying not to be. What a fucking treat she is for him. 

It's over faster than he’d like to admit but he can’t be embarrassed when this literal wet dream material landed in his lap, and after he’s made himself bust to the sound of her reaching her peak herself, biting his knuckles and doing everything in his power not to make a sound and scare her off, he takes his shirt off to wipe the mess with, not finding anything else within arm’s reach.

Deciding to wait a beat before going to the bathroom for a shower, he’s surprised to see her exiting her room at the exact same time he does, looking disheveled and holding a towel with something bundled up in it. No doubt that fucking toy. Her eyes widen comically when she sees him, stops in her tracks, and he can’t help the raise of his eyebrows either. 

“You go ahead,” he tells her, motioning to the bathroom.

“Nah,” she says, her cheeks coloring adorably, “I gotta shower, I’ll take a bit longer.”

He nods, suppresses a smirk.

“Okay, I’ll give you a knock when I’m done.” 

Feeling smug, he purposely takes his time, lets her stew in her discomfort. 

Walking back to his room, he gives her the promised knock before closing his door behind himself. He listens for her footsteps. It takes her almost five minutes to move. 

*** 

If you asked Nicholas if he’d describe himself as creepy, he’d flat-out tell you no. If you asked him if he’d call himself a perv, he’d have to think about it. If you, however, asked him if he’s got some serious sexual issues, he’d nod enthusiastically and ask you if you had the number of a good therapist. Or a priest. At this point, he’ll take any help he can get.

Because he knows this isn’t normal, knows it rationally, but the thing is that he’s a dude in his twenties who just so prefers to think with his cock, mainly, and so he doesn’t care. 

Plus, lately, she’s been a real tease. Nothing too crazy, subtility is her strong suit, but enough to drive him mad. When she sits herself down next to him at dinner, she’ll turn to him, put her feet up on his chair, under his thighs. 

“Please, warm them for me?” she’ll pout, making him roll his eyes in fake annoyance while his heartrate kicks up a notch. 

“You’re not even wearing socks!” he’ll snap, but of course he’ll warm her feet up.

She’s started tanning topless, but only when she’s on her stomach, not revealing too much, but more than she has before. The sight of her tits under the shower is still a treat, though. 

And, on top of it all, she’s started putting her clothes in his hamper. They each have their own hamper in the bathroom, right next to each other, and mix-ups have happened over the years, but three in one week is a bit much. First it was her shirt, then it was two pairs of socks, then her bra. He wordlessly put them into hers without thinking about it, but now he’s struggling.

Because now he’s looking at a thong, a worn thong, on top of the shirt he tossed in last night. How he knows it’s worn? There’s a tiny spot on the crotch, dried pussy juice, whatever it may be, but it suddenly makes his tongue feel heavy and the sight of it makes him think the only way to stop his brain from short circuiting is to put his mouth on it, which, no. Even for him, that is too far, he doesn’t do that.

What he does do, however, after he checks behind himself to make sure she isn’t coincidentally walking by at this exact moment, is pocket them, walk into his room with them heavy on his person, and when he shuts the door, he realizes he hasn’t taken a single breath the entire way there. 

His hands shake when they take the panties out, and his cock hardens so fast that it makes him dizzy for a second. He contemplates bringing them up to his nose and inhaling but decides against it. If he ever gets to smell her, he wants it to be her, fully, nothing else. Tossing them on the bed, he sits down, takes a minute to himself.

That must have fucking been on purpose, right? There is no way she didn’t do that for him to find it. No way. The thong was planted, presented, almost, she wanted him to see it and then what? What reaction is she expecting? He won’t give her a direct one, that’s for damn sure. It’s too risky, what if it really was accidental, he’d make himself look like an absolute psycho.

Resolute, he decides not to do anything about it yet, not regarding her, at least. By himself, that’s another story entirely. He’s undoing his pants before he knows it, taking off his shirt and getting completely naked. Nick leans back against his headboard, gets comfortable among the pillows, and starts playing with his cock slowly.

He's hard, wet already, throbbing, but he takes his time, teases the tip, imagines it’s her tongue instead. Grabbing the panties, he wraps them around his base, makes sure they’re on properly and holds them with one hand while his other speeds up, eager to get off. The sight of that lacy black material around his dick, the contrast similar to how it’d be if he just got her on her back, pulled them to the side and slid into her hot cunt, that thought driving him insane, driving him closer and closer to his orgasm. 

He comes with a shout and isn’t even ashamed of it, makes sure to let his semen run along his shaft and pool on the material of the thong, let it get soaked a little, before he takes it away completely and uses it to wipe away what he can. For the rest he uses a tissue from his bedside table. 

It takes him a while to build that courage up, but he walks to her hamper, puts her ruined underwear at the very top of the dirty pile of her laundry.

Hours later, at night when everyone’s asleep and regret hits him, panic grips at his throat, he goes through it again, can’t find the damn pair of panties among the same pile of clothes.

Nobody in the house did the laundry today, he knows, he’s been the only one at home the entire time.

*** 

Their parents have no qualms about going on vacation for a few weeks and leaving their kids at home alone, and he’s absolutely fine with it for the most part, if only she wasn’t so insistent on letting her rebellious streak show now that nobody can correct her, partying every damn night and showing up at all times of the morning, leaving him worried sick.

“At least have the fucking decency to let me know when you won’t be coming home, so I don’t worry,” he snaps at her after the fourth night of her going out.

“You’re not my fucking father,” she hisses and leaves, skirt too short and heels too high, leaving Nicholas boiling with rage.

It’s only a small surprise when, one day, he walks into the living room after a post-lunch nap and catches her on the couch, straddling Sam. He had forgotten about the guy, about her telling him that they’d exchanged numbers, and he feels the bright hot mix of jealousy and anger make its way into his blood stream.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, smirks when they jump apart, ending their little make out session, “who do we have here?”

She glares at him with her mouth red and wet, panting slightly, and if he had any less self-control, he’d grab her by the throat and drag her off this loser’s lap.

“Nicholas, hey dude,” Sam chuckles, a little embarrassed and a lot sheepish as she gets off his lap, stands up with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Let’s go up to my room, Sam,” she says, is about to pull him up when Nicholas’ loud laugh interrupts her, makes her whip her head around to look at him.

Stop being weird, her gaze tells him, but she has no clue how normal he’s being right now, has no clue what it is he wants to do instead. 

“I don’t fucking think so, (Y/N),” he snarls, leans against the wall with his arms crossed as well. Two can play this game. “Samuel, you were just about to leave, weren’t you.”

“Actually, I- I wasn’t really-“

“Wasn’t a question.”

“Nick!” she hisses, looks at him with wide-eyed fury, “What the fuck are you doing? Sam, you really don’t have to leave, let’s just go upstairs.” 

“(Y/N),” Nicholas starts, grit teeth and dark eyes, “I said he’s leaving, end of story.” 

“Hey, it’s all good, babe,” Sam says, and even though that nickname makes Nicholas’ stomach turn, he appreciates that the boy has at least some respect left. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He presses a kiss to her cheek and grabs his backpack, walks past Nicholas with a small nod and disappears through the door. The silence he leaves behind is deafening as they look at each other, and she’s spitting mad, he can tell, shaking with it.

She grits, “What the fuck was that?” 

He shrugs, tries to act nonchalant, tries to keep control over the situation.

“You’re not going to hang out with him again, okay?”

“What?” she yells, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Lower your fuckin’ tone when speaking to me,” he hisses, stalks over to her and grabs her by the shoulders. “Sam is a piece of shit, and I will not let my sister hang around people like him, am I understood? You won’t see him again.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He doesn’t think, just for a second, and suddenly his hand is at her throat, slamming her against the wall and crowding into her. He can’t consider his next steps, the ringing in his ears is too loud.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, huh? It’s enough now, (Y/N)! It’s enough!”

There’s fear in her eyes as she stares up at him, pulse hammering under his fingertips, but she doesn’t fight him, doesn’t struggle against him. 

He cages her in, lips a hair-width from hers as he gently whispers, “Now, what is it that you’re not going to do anymore?”

She swallows hard, a movement that’s constricted by his tight grip.

“S-see Sam,” she whimpers, not taking her gaze off him.

Nicholas smiles. 

“Atta girl,” he praises, moves the knuckle of his other hand along her cheekbone. “And while we’re at it, you’re not going to any more parties, okay? Four in a row are enough, don’t you think?” She gives him a jerky nod, wordless but appeasing, nonetheless. “Very good, wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” he smiles, condescension dripping from every syllable, watching her shake her head no before he lets instinct take over and presses a kiss to her forehead, all loving brother like. “Now go up to your room, I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

She’s out of his grasp before he can even step away fully.

He serves dinner silently, chicken and mac’n’cheese, her favorite. She whispers a small thank you and digs in, doesn’t look at him. Nicholas knows he might have gone a bit far today, especially so suddenly, but he only did it for her. The stories about Sam really did make their rounds, and he’d hate for his little sister to be known as one of that scumbag’s girls. Fuck no. 

“’m sorry about today,” he says after he’s let the atmosphere settle. “I should’ve been gentler, less angry, maybe. But I really am just worried about you, (Y/N), you can understand that, can’t you?”

It takes her a beat before she can look at him, chewing her food slowly. He gives her a small smile, encouraging, he hopes. He puts his hand on the table, palm up, looks at it then looks at her. She’s eyeing him with distrust before exhaling deeply, slowly, oh so slowly, reaching out and putting her hand in his.

His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest- they don’t touch, not ever- but he’s grateful. He considers it an accepted peace offering.

“I know,” she mumbles, “I was just… excited. About him liking me. I know it was probably a stupid thing of me to do.” 

“It was,” he says, keeping his tone gentle, “but it’s okay, I’m here to fix it if needed, okay? I’m your big brother, I’ll help you.”

“You keep saying that,” she notes, eyes hard but tone unsure. “That- that you’re my brother. But you aren’t, not really. We aren’t related.” 

He hums, thinks about how he should react without giving too much away. She’s right, they aren’t, but he needs her to trust him the way she would if they were. 

“We’re family in all the ways that matter, (Y/N). Okay?” he decides to say, squeezes her hand with the corners of his mouth tucked up.

That’s enough for her, apparently, because she gives him a nod and goes back to eating her dinner. When he lets go of her hand, she keeps it on the table, just within reach. 

He takes it as a sign, he’s going to be okay. 

She spends the entire next day in bed, not going outside once, and he knows because he hears that damn toy buzzing. His dick and his palm are sore by the time evening rolls around, because after all, he had to at least try to match her one for one. At least Sam is nowhere to be found, and Nick intends to keep it that way.

*** 

It sneaks in slowly, the need to be more involved, to order her around. It shows up at lunch, at dinner, one more piece of broccoli, one more scoop of rice. 

“Are you on a diet or somethin’? You’ve barely eaten.”

“Guess my appetite isn’t very big today.”

“C’mon, have some more.” Silence. “Hey, (Y/N).” A wide-eyed look. “For me?” A tiny smile, a shrug, a nod.

He refills her plate, an itsy-bitsy portion, and smiles when she eats it. He doesn’t want her to start feeling unwell now that she wakes up late and skips breakfast altogether, he needs to take care of her when their parents aren’t around. Nicholas isn’t the type to control anyone’s food intake, that would be ridiculous, but he doesn’t want her to miss out on her nutrients. 

Sometimes, she doesn’t let him.

“I really am full, I’ll have the leftovers tomorrow.”

He concedes, smiles at her. 

“Okay, I’ll put the rest in the fridge. The container is microwave proof, yeah?”

“’kay. Thank you, Nick.”

When he passes by her, he decides to be impulsive and bend down, press a kiss to the top of her head. He feels himself blush when she preens under his touch. It’s not weird, it’s a show of appreciation between stepsiblings. 

He’s walking by the bathroom, snacking on a banana, when he sees her standing in front of the mirror and curling her hair. Nick stops, leans against the doorframe and takes a bite.

“You going out in that?” he asks, motions with the half-eaten banana.

She turns, surprised, looks down at herself.

“Yeah, why? You don’t like it?”

“Where are you going?”

“Getting coffee with the girls.”

He hums, looks her up and down, unashamed in his staring. She may think it’s for the outfit, he knows it’s for her delicious body. 

“I feel like a flowy skirt would be cute. Or a dress, I don’t know. Nothing too short.”

She nods, looks at her baggy jeans.

“Want me to change?” her tone is genuine when she asks, none of the usual snark audible in it.

Nicholas chews slowly, looks to the side, unsure what to do. She’s letting him do this, giving it to him.

“Do you want to?”

“If… if you want me to, then yeah.”

He nods, finishes the bite, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, change into that olive green tennis skirt you have. It’ll go well with your top.” 

She smiles brightly, nods. 

“Okay, I will.” He’s just about to turn and walk away when she calls, “Thank you, big brother.” 

He throws her a smile over his shoulder and scurries away to dispose of the banana peel. His dick is hard in his pants.

Before she walks out, she knocks on his door, steps in when he allows it.

“Like this?” she asks, twirls once to let him see the full outfit.

She’s so fucking cute, he can’t decide if he wants to wrap her up in his arms forever or fuck her ‘til she’s crying.

He beckons her closer with his index finger, reaches out to touch the hem of her skirt once she’s close enough, pulls at it, like he’s assessing the material.

“Much better,” he rasps, smiles up at her from where he’s sitting at his desk chair. “Have fun, pretty. Call me if you need anything.”

She nods, smile so wide the corners of her eyes are crinkling, and she leaves. He exhales deeply, a warm feeling in his chest. This is going better than he could’ve imagined. 

“Come watch this movie with me,” he says, popcorn already in his lap, finger about to press play on the remote.

“I was gonna go to sleep… I’m so tired.”

That’s what she had said the past two nights, as well, only to stay up to fuck herself until well after midnight. It really must be a new toy, he thinks, her obsession with it, with getting off, way too intense for it to be anything but a new sensation. He knows she’s not a virgin, much to his dismay, but he has no clue if she gets fucked on the regular. Nick’s been making it difficult for her as well, he knows, not letting her out of the house too late.

“C’mon, just a bit? If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you upstairs.”

“I don’t know, Nick…”

“(Y/N),” he starts, voice stern now, “come sit down with me. It’s been a while since we last just spent time together.”

Reluctantly, she stomps her way over to him, annoyed. She does sit down, though, he’ll give her that, doesn’t even put too much distance between them. He smiles, presses play and leans back, enjoying the intro. She takes a handful of popcorn when he holds the bowl out to her but declines a second, which he’s fine with. 

It doesn’t take long for her to start squirming. 

First, it’s just some movement back and forth, it can pass as burrowing into the couch cushions, getting comfortable. Then it’s crossing and uncrossing her legs, over and over again, before she gives up with a humph and sits still. That lasts all of five minutes before she moves again, tucking her legs under her, then putting her weight on her right hip, then her left, shuffling around until he loses his patience.

“Could you stop fucking moving, what is your problem?” he snaps, looks over to her furrowed brows and mouth turned into a frown.

“I can’t get comfy!” she says, a slight whine in her voice, and he doesn’t know if she’s being bratty or if she really is just frustrated. 

“Just sit your ass down, (Y/N), it can’t be that hard.” 

“Whatever,” she mumbles and stays in the position she is in.

That is, until her squirming starts up again not even ten minutes later, with her sitting on her hands, then wringing them between her thighs, making him unable to focus on the movie. 

“That’s it,” he growls and without a second thought he hauls her up, ignores her screech of protest as he positions her between his thighs, holds her upper body tight while his legs secure hers.

“Nicholas, what the fuck?! Let me go!”

“What the fuck you so restless for, huh?” he breathes against her ear, but it’s in no way sexual. He needs her to hold still.

“Just let me go up to my room, please,” she whines, throws her head back, and he wonders what the hell has gotten into her when he remembers that, oops, he has been keeping her from going upstairs to play with her little friend.

His stepsister is horny, he realizes. 

A dirty smirk spreads along his face as he grips her tighter, makes her lean against him as he cages her in.

“Why? What’s so important in your room?” he asks, all fake cluelessness, loves watching her squirm when trying to come up with an answer.

She’s hot all over now, he can feel it, and he enjoys it massively. 

“Nothing, ‘m just sleepy, please- Nick, c’mon! This is fucked up!” 

She thrashes against him, but she’s got no chance, there’s a reason why he works out six days a week, and when she’s tired herself out enough, she goes limp against him.

“Tell ya what,” Nichola says, smug in how conversational he sounds, how nonchalant as he repositions her, puts her against his side, her wrists clutched in one strong hand and her leg hiked up against his stomach where he holds her thigh firmly, doesn’t let her get away. Her core is pressed against his hipbone, partially his thigh, and he feels like he’s dreaming as he does this, like this isn’t real life with real life consequences, that’s how badly he wants it. “If you need it that badly, you’ll give it to yourself against my hip, okay? But that’s the only way, (Y/N), you hear me? The only way.”

Her eyes are wide as saucers where they’re staring at him, mouth agape. She’s so small like this, clutched in his grip, and he wishes he could kiss her, but it’s not time for that, not yet. 

“W-what?” she whispers faintly.

“You heard me. If you need it, then this is how you’ll do it. And if not, then you’ll sit here, all still and pretty, and finish this movie with me. And when I let you go up to your room, you won’t touch, am I understood?”

“You’re fucking insane,” she spits, eyes on fire but her cheeks are red.

Nicholas chuckles, shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He continues watching the movie and pays her no mind apart from making sure his grip stays too tight for her to get out of. Her breathing is hard, audible, but he ignores it, acts like she’s the weirdo for thinking that this is weird, and when she finally starts squirming again, he has to bite his lip to suppress a smirk.

“Why are you making me do this?” she whispers through a huff, decidedly not looking at him.

“’m not making you do anything. It’s your decision whether you wanna be good or not.”

She scoffs. “You’re so messed up. I can’t believe I have to fucking live with you, put up with… with this shit.”

He shrugs, nonplussed. He knows she doesn’t mean it. Their relationship has never been lovey-dovey, but they’ve never been outright nasty to each other, not even during the hardest times of adjusting in the beginning. 

“Shut up and watch the movie, (Y/N),” he says, dismisses her, enjoys how she’s stewing in her anger and frustration.

It’s miniscule when it starts, the slight flexing of her thighs. Nicholas can feel it, but he doesn’t move, lets her do her thing in the hopes that she’ll get bolder with it, give herself over to her needs. He imagines her clenching her pussy, trying to get friction on her clit that way, wonders how she prefers to come. A strong exhale snaps him out of his thoughts, the way she moves further down his body, again, seeming like she’s settling in against him, but he knows she’s looking for a good angle. 

The fact that her subtility- usually a trait she possesses perfectly- goes flying out the window once she’s horny enough, needy enough, is something he stows away to use against her later, when he needs it. He’s observant, sue him, it’s just natural. 

A few minutes pass before she takes the next step, tightening her leg around him through a cough, ridiculously so. Why’d she have to cough, he thinks bemusedly, it’s not a sound she’s trying to cover up, but a movement. Wide hips and an undoubtedly needy cunt, that’s what she’s currently rolling against him, slowly and irregularly. He feels frustrated for her, there’s no way this is doing anything to help, and it shows in the way she huffs every now and then, impatience building.

“Just do it,” he whispers, keeps his voice calm and his chest even despite his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “You can, what’re you scared of?”

The breath rushing out of her lungs is shaky as she turns her head and buries her face in his shoulder, a groan escaping her.

“Please, Nick,” she whines- sobs, almost- as he trails his hand down to her tailbone, pushes her flush against him, encourages her to rotate her hips and rub herself against him.

“That’s a good girl, just like that,” Nicholas whispers, nose in her hair, smelling the faint scent of roses. “Give in, that’s it. You can make yourself feel good, it’s okay.”

She positions herself so she gets more of his thigh between her legs and starts humping him in earnest, breathing open-mouthed against his shoulder, and he so badly wishes she would look at him, wants to see the flush on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes. 

“Does that feel good? Tell me, (Y/N).” She nods, but he isn’t satisfied. “Use your words like a big girl, c’mon. Don’t go dumb on me yet.” 

Her whine is high-pitched as she takes a moment to gather the courage, but when she does speak, it makes his cock jump where it’s trapped in his pants. 

“Y-yeah, ‘s good… oh, oh fuck.”

When he’s sure she won’t bolt, he lets go of her arms, snakes his hands around her body and guides her movements. Her hands immediately hold onto his torso, face burying in his neck, moist breath against his skin. This feels so much like heaven that he’s dizzy with it. 

“Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it? Atta girl.”

Her movements are precise, he knows she’s found a way to make it good, to hit her desired spot just right by the way her body is bound tight, and her breathing is labored, words stuttered. That’s all he can see with her gorgeous face turned away from him, but he’ll get there. He grabs her ass and grinds his thigh into her pussy, grins at her surprised moan.

“Holy fuck,” she hisses, cants her hips back and forth across a good spot.

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that. Needed it badly, didn’t you? Your cunt’s been desperate all evening, huh?”

She nods, gives him a broken confirmation, whines when he threads his fingers into her hair and pulls.

“Nnngh, Nick, I need- ugh, I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. Look at me, (Y/N). C’mon, look at me, baby.” 

He’s pushing it with the nickname, but he doesn’t care, not when his dick is leaking steadily in his pants, needy to feel her. Not yet, though, he needs to play his cards right. 

When she looks up it knocks the breath out of his chest, the way her lips are bitten raw, her eyes glazed over, cheeks covered by a pink blush and a slight sheen of sweat. She’s so hot for it, and he’s so hot for her, and he needs her to come so he can go to his room and jerk off while thinking of exactly this scenario for… forever, probably. He’ll never get her out of his system, he just knows it, his baby stepsister anchored deep in his soul.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, resists the urge to kiss her, but he does put a thumb to her lips and lets her suck a kiss into the pad of it while her hips work tirelessly to get her pussy off. “From now on, whenever you need it this badly, you come to me, okay? You ask me and I’ll help you. Am I making myself clear, (Y/N)?”

She nods dazedly, furrows her brows as her hips start speeding up.

“Y-yeah, Nick, I’ll ask you. Need it, need t’a ask you, need it.”

Nicholas’ heart swells three sizes at her promise and he decides to let her tumble over the edge, grinds his thigh into her center and pushes her ass down to meet the thrusts, smiles wickedly when her eyes roll back.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yes-“

“Gonna cream your panties on your big stepbrother’s thigh? That what you need?” Forehead meeting his shoulder, she whines through a pathetic nod, lets him move her up and down before he whispers, “Let go baby. Show me how you come for your brother, c’mon.”

“Nicholas, fuck!”

The sound she makes when she releases rivals an angel choir, breathy and high and so full of ecstasy, he feels he could come right there with her, completely untouched. She rides it out, humps his thigh until she’s shuddering, until she collapses on top of his body to catch her heaving breath.

Nicholas can’t help but pull her tighter against him, hold her through her aftershocks, uncaring about the consequences, about being pushed away. She wouldn’t, no fucking way she would, not when she’s this vulnerable and he’s this willing to help her through any situation. 

They stay like that for a little before he reaches down to take her by the chin, pull her head up to look at him. There are unshed tears in her eyes, a wobbly lip, but he can’t be the one dealing with this now. She needs to settle in on her own. 

“You did so well, ‘m proud of you,” he smiles, shakes her face a little, “you okay?”

Taking a beat, she nods her head, albeit a little hesitantly. 

He smiles at that, lets go of her and darts his eyes to the stairs. 

“Good. Off you go then, get cleaned up and then get in bed. And no touching, yeah?” 

She gets up on wobbly legs, steadies herself against the back of the couch as she slowly makes her way to the stairs. Before she disappears, he calls her name, makes her turn around.

“And remember,” he says, grin smug, “you come to me. Always come to me.”

*** 

It’s summer, and it’s way too hot, and Nicholas usually finishes his daily swim before she even wakes up, but today he decides to take it easy and wait for her to take her usual place on the sunbed before he strides out to cool off in the pool.

They haven’t talked about what happened two nights ago, and they won’t, he knows, not explicitly anyway. Luckily, she isn’t avoiding him, the atmosphere when they’re around each other rather comfortable. It’s a little unnerving and a lot surprising, he must admit, but Nicholas has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

The way she’s watching him jump into the water, do his laps, lean against the side of the pool to take a breather- none of it goes unnoticed, and he enjoys it immensely. He doesn’t show off on purpose, doesn’t need to, sees her biting her lip at his usual demeanor, no exaggeration needed. When he’s counted his fifty, he heaves himself up and gets out of the pool, her eyes tracking the way his biceps bulge. A smirk makes its way onto his face, all smug, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.

Taking his towel, he wipes his face dry before spreading it across the sunbed next to hers, laying down.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, hiding his eyes behind a pair of shades.

“Already did, didn’t you?”

He hums. “Guess I did.”

“Want some tanning oil?”

“Depends,” he says, dares to, “will you rub it on me?”

Her snort is full of humor, thank God.  

“Fuck no.”

“Then no, thank you.”

He loves their little banter, is fond of it, endlessly grateful that it hasn’t changed since that one fateful night. The silence stretches as they lay there, letting the rays of the sun warm their skin, and soon enough he hears shuffling coming from her side. Looking up, he can see her gathering her stuff. 

“Leaving already?”

She nods. “It’s Nina’s birthday dinner tonight, and I still need to get ready.”

“You’ll show me your outfit before you leave, right?”

Even though he’s phrased it like a question, she knows damn well that it’s an order. This pleases him.

“Yes, of course.”

She’ll go to the shower as she always does, but before she can, he decides to let his little stepsister in on a secret. She’s earned it, after all, being such a good girl for him.

“Have I ever told you that the window in my room gives me a near perfect view of the inside of our outdoor shower?” he lies conversationally, giving her a blinding smile.

Every muscle in her body tenses momentarily before she turns her head towards him ever so slowly. Her hard swallow is audible, even out here, even to him.

“No,” she rasps, voice shaky, “You never told me that, Nicholas.”

“Hm. Well, just thought you should know.”

He leaves it at that, lays back on his back, trying hard not to smirk. He can sense how this admission is fucking her up on the inside, the shock and the danger tied to it. 

He’s so sure she’ll let it go, but as has become a theme with her, she takes him by surprise when she asks, “Did you only notice? Or… did you- did you watch? Me?”

Brave little girl, he’s almost proud.

Keeping his voice borderline bored, he replies, “I watched, a little. You don’t seriously believe I could look away from a pretty little thing like you, (Y/N).”

He pulls his shades down a little and eyes her body, gives her a nasty smirk before leaning back again.

When she huffs, stalks away to get into that damn shower, he gives her all of ten seconds before he’s after her, sneaking in behind her and catching her just in time to see her bikini top fall away. When she spots him leaning against the entrance, a gasp escapes her, hands flying up to cover herself.

The gesture makes him scoff, all ridicule. 

“Please,” he says, looks her in the eye, “nothing I ain’t seen before, sweetheart.”

A frown makes its way onto her face, petulant and bratty in a way she usually isn’t, and she slowly lowers her hands, gives him an eyeful of her tits. They’re even more gorgeous up-close, and he chuckles dirtily, looks his fill.

“That’s so unfair, Nick,” she tuts, “You look at mine but won’t show me yours?”

His smile softens a little. 

“You’re lookin’ at it,” he says, arms out as if to say: there ya go! “I haven’t seen anything past your waistline, (Y/N).” The look she gives him is skeptical, but he knows what sincerity looks like, knows how to make it visible on his own face. She believes him. “Unless, you want to, of course. In which case…”

A pointed glance at her bikini bottoms has her cross her arms over her chest, scoffing.

“You wish,” she snaps, turns around and ends the conversation.

He lets her.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. But remember your one rule, yeah? You need it, you ask your big brother for help. Got it?”

When she scoffs, doesn’t say anything, chooses to ignore him, he lets himself lose a tiny thread of patience. Three steps take him towards her where he grabs her soaking wet hair, really drives his fingertips into her scalp, and yanks her back so hard her knees buckle through her obnoxious shriek.

“I asked you something, (Y/N),” he hisses, uncaring that her frantic nod makes her cause herself pain, pulling at her hair like that.

She’s grabbing at his arm as she yelps, “Yes, yes I got it, Nicholas, I got it-“

“Good,” he grits, shoves her away from him and eyes her up and down before leaving the shower, leaving her to carefully pat at her surely burning scalp. 

He had to leave, or he would’ve done some damage. Nicholas hates when she ignores him. 

Despite everything, or maybe even because of it, she knocks on his door later to get his approval for her outfit. He takes his time looking at her, makes her twirl for him, reaches under her shirt to make sure the material is thick enough to keep her warm throughout the evening. Nicholas makes her bend down as he kisses her cheek sweetly, resting his forehead against her temple.

“’m sorry,” he apologizes again, truly feeling sour at his outburst, “you be careful, and call me if you need anything, yeah?”

She nods, doesn’t say anything for a long moment before she moves her face, presses a kiss to his forehead. A soft smile directed at him is the last thing he sees before she leaves. 

*** 

It’s been a while since he’s heard the buzzing from the other side of the wall, and now that it’s cutting through the comfortable silence on this warm evening, it makes red hot fury rise in his chest.

Nicholas would consider himself a patient, understanding young man, but with how she’s been playing him, he doesn’t see his positive traits lasting for much longer. He’s been clear, twice now- made her repeat his rule, even- and yet she’s in there, defiling her precious cunt with that… that fucking toy. He hates it.

Without thinking much about it he walks out of his room and steps in front of her door, that annoying sound following him like the plague, before he bursts into her bedroom, stopping in his tracks at the scene before him.

The scoff leaves his lips before he can hold it back. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She’s on her back, legs bent and in the air, hands hidden between her thighs. The wide-eyed look she gives him- full of fear and shock- makes his gut churn. That fucking sound. He needs it off, right now.

“That fucking-“ he snaps, walks over to her and snatches the damn thing out of her hands, turns it off and throws it on the bed. Impulse has him grip her throat, revel in the way her pulse is hammering against his palm, pull her close, terrified gaze meeting his stormy eyes. He doesn’t care. He told her, and now look at her disrespect. “What the fuck did I tell you, huh?”

“Nicholas, wh- what are you-“

He shakes her, not gently, grabs her hair in his other hand so she’d look at him. “What is your rule, (Y/N)? Hm? The one fucking rule I gave you, and here you are, breaking it, fucking-“ he blindly pats the bed in search for the toy, finds it, holds it up to her, “-for this? This thing? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

She doesn’t comprehend, he can tell, and although he usually loves when he’s got her speechless and dumb, now it just pisses him off beyond belief. There’s no way she didn’t know, no fucking way she didn’t know.

“Explain yourself,” he hisses, grips her tighter, wedges himself between her spread thighs and does his best to ignore the warmth emitting from that place. He’s willing to give her a chance, and she better not waste it. 

“I- I didn’t-“ she whimpers, swallows, “I didn’t know you were being- being actually serious, I… I was s-scared.”

The tears in her eyes are threatening to overflow and Nicholas feels his cock twitch at that. Good, let her cry.

He scoffs. “And you expect me to believe that, after everything?”

“What if I had been wrong and you had been fucking with me all along?” she yells, then, surprises him with the way she fights through the tremor in her voice. “You would’ve deemed me a freak and- and shunned me, and then what? Then I’d be without a brother, and- I’d hate- hate that. So much. Fuck!”

He can feel his gaze soften along with his grip on her hair, butterflies exploding in his stomach. His little stepsister needs him, needs him way more than he needs her, apparently, needs him in a way that is so beyond sexual that it makes his head spin. He can work with that, will work with that, until she’s nothing but a thin thread wrapped around his little finger, nothing but a miniscule puddle of putty in his wide palm. 

He suppresses a smirk, turns it into a warm smile, instead. 

“Oh, baby,” he coos, scoots closer and rests his forehead against hers, feels her heaving chest and warm breath, “you’ll never be without me again, you hear me? There’s nothing you could do that would turn me away from you. Now that we’re siblings, this shit is forever, do you understand? Tell me, (Y/N).”

Her eyes are screwed shut but she nods at his demand, inhales deeply and exhales slowly, calming herself like a big girl. His big girl.

“Ye-yeah, I guess,” she murmurs, “I do now.”

He hums, leans in and presses their mouths together, a dry press with explosive consequences. His heart starts hammering in his chest when she lets out a sigh against his lips, and he breaks away with a smile, looks her in the eye.

“Okay?”

She nods, licks her red, red lips. Another kiss, just as chaste. He won’t give in, not yet. 

“Now,” he starts, puts the bass back in his voice, “this… this can’t go unpunished, though, you get that, right?”

Her eyes widen while her brows furrow, confusion evident on that gorgeous face. He looks at her sheepishly.

“W-why? It wasn’t, like, on purpose.”

Nick chuckles, finds the toy easily, turns it over in his hands. It’s slightly sticky where it’s been pressed against her, but he doesn’t mind. He intends to make it messier. 

“Accidents can happen, of course,” he drawls, allows, “but this early on in our relationship? Nah, don’t think so.”

With that he switches the toy on, leans back and pushes her thighs apart, moves slow and deliberate. Her gaze stays questioning up until he presses the buzzing vibrator against her cunt fully, watches when her leg twitches. She’s beautiful down here, wet and swollen, lips that will frame the fat length of his cock nicely, a sweet little clit that he’ll love to torture to completion. He’s got so many plans for her, but for now he ignores the salivating of his mouth and focuses his eyes on her rolled back ones, turns the vibe up a notch and smirks wickedly.

“You wanted to come, little sister?” he asks, chuckles darkly, “I’ll make you come. Over and over and over, until you beg me to stop.” Another press of the button, another violent lurch of her upper body that he holds down no problem, “And when you do start to beg,” he hisses, presses closer, revels in her whining and gasping, “I will ignore it, and make this pussy sob for me again, you hear me?” 

Nicholas smiles as she comes, spasms so hard he almost loses his tight grip on her, but thankfully his body is big enough to keep her thighs apart around it. Where only minutes ago he hated the sound of this little tool, he now ignores it expertly, presses it against her clit and appreciates the help it gives him. Her wails, the punching of her fists against the mattress through her next orgasms would alert everyone in the house if it weren’t empty, and he can’t wait to hear those sounds when he’s got her impaled on his dick.

“Please, no more, no-“

“Take it,” he says, flicks his wrist, “Give me more, c’mon.”

“Nicholas, I can’t!” she sobs, grabs the sheets to hold on to something, to bear the assault on her cunt better. “Hurts, Nick, please, hurts!”

“Good,” he smiles, turns it all the way up after her fifth peak, “Let it hurt, baby, let this pussy submit to me. Let her say her goodbyes to this goddamn thing,” he can’t help but snarl, “I’ll be all you need from now on, yeah, everything this pussy needs. Your big brother, your owner, all in one, huh?” 

Her last orgasm has her thrash against his hold, throwing her head back, but he keeps his hand right where it hurts the most, forces her to ride it out until her bones shake with it. 

When he finally, finally turns the toy off and tosses it aside, he carefully gathers her shivering body in his arms, holds her face against his neck and rocks her back and forth. Nick makes sure her legs stay spread where they’re shaking uncontrollably, makes sure nothing toucher her overstimulated pussy. It’ll take her a while to stop crying, he guesses, he doesn’t want to draw it out more than necessary. 

Say what you want about him, but he’s no monster. 

When her breath has evened out and her tremors have subsided, he lets his hand find her hair and grip it once more, firmly, not cruelly. Looking into her eyes, he smiles, kisses her lips, whispers, “What’s your rule, little sister?”

She shudders but replies, “Wh-when I want to come, I tell you. I ask you for help.” 

He nods, gets up slowly, adjusts his rock-hard cock in his pants. Her wide eyes track every movement, but he stays resilient, turns to leave the room but changes his mind. Two steps take him back to her where he grabs her, pries her mouth open forcefully, spits inside where a whimper is fighting its way out, cracks his hand across one rosy, tear-streaked cheek and gets off on the shocked sob that escapes her.

Straightening out, he moves to the door.

“And don’t you dare ever fucking forget it.”

*** 

It’s not like he’s got some masterplan when it comes to her, it’s not like he’s calm and collected and in control of his mind and body, it’s just that he has strong instincts and even stronger impulses and he can’t help but act on them, not in his life outside of this house he’s sharing with her, but here? Definitely, evidently. 

He isn’t in control, not really, because he loses his mind little by little, every day. When she passes by him on her way to the fridge and drives her hand through his hair, when she smiles at him from where she’s laying on the sunbed, when she lets him watch her shower. The way she asks if he approves of her outfit, if she should make him food, if she can have a hug. 

She’s never asked for a kiss, but he gives her some anyway, knows she wants them by the way she melts into the touches, lets his tongue roam around in that sinful mouth, lets him pull her closer by the grip on her ass. 

The first time Nicholas gives her his cock, not fully, but pushes it between her lips, is when they’re under the shower.

It goes like this: she beckons him to follow her into the outdoor shower so he can oversee that she really does get clean, as he does often, points to her body parts and smiles when she drags her loofah along that spot. He helps her where she can’t reach, gets her back for her, the backs of her thighs, scrubs her clean really well. He’s in his swimwear so he doesn’t mind getting wet, pulls her against his chest, her ass pressed to his crotch, soaps up her tits, massages them, pinches her hard nipples and chuckles at her moan.

Strong hands drift down lower, over her stomach and down to where he knows her cunt is already clenching, getting wet. 

“Have to clean this dirty pussy as well, don’t we?” he whispers before spreading her open with one hand, driving between her folds with the other.

He keeps this step clinical for the most part, takes his time as her breaths starts to get shallow, all the way up until she gives in and with her bottom lip clutched between those perfect teeth asks him, “Big brother, can you please make me come?”

Oh, he’ll never tire of this.

“Of course, baby,” he replies, because this is for him as much as her. Moreso for him, probably. 

Her twitching clit feels hard under his pointer finger where he’s circling it, drawing down to her hole to gather some of her juices to make the glide better, making sure to keep her out of the spray of the water. As expected, her eyes are glued to what he’s doing between her wide hips, moaning softly with every swipe of his finger.

“Mmm, what have we got here?” he asks teasingly as he lets two of his fingers circle her entrance, two because he knows she can take it, “A hungry little hole, hm?” 

They push in easily, make her breath hitch, and he maneuvers them so they’re standing under the shower stream, so it’s aimed right at her exposed clit. His stepsister spasms, but he holds her tightly. The water banging down on her swollen nub, his fingers pressing against that gorgeous spot inside of her, his voice whispering delicious filth in her ear- she’s naïve if she ever thought she stood a chance.

She comes with a silent cry, lets him bear the weight of her shaking body as she lets the sensations overcome her, moans as he talks her through it, good fucking girl, that’s my babysis, if only I had known about how sweet this cunt is, give it to me, just like that, tight little hole and it’s all for me.

When she sinks to her knees slowly, he doesn’t protest. Unsure if the wetness on her face is from the water or her tears, he decides to take it easy on her, pats her head and soothes her as she buries her face in his soaked swim shorts. She finds the tent in them easily, mouths at it, looking up at him from under her clumped lashes.

He scoffs, fondness in every dangerous syllable as he says, “Don’t bare your throat to me unless you want me to fuck it.”

But his little girl, God bless her neediness, soldiers on, licks a stripe up to his navel so his hands would have enough space to pull his shorts down. Mind hazy with the view she’s giving him- her little body beneath him, submitting on her knees- he grabs his cock as it springs free, feeds it into her panting mouth and groans when she doesn’t stop swallowing him down, lets him into the depths of this fuckhole. The bobbing and sucking that immediately follow has him hold on to the wall, knees weak.

“Yeah, yes,” he laughs, delirious with lust, “That’s a good girl, fuck. Who’s been fucking my little sister, huh? Who’s been teaching you to take cock this good?”

She lets him go with a pop, doesn’t say anything as she bunches four of her fingers up and shoves them down her throat, down to the knuckles, not a single gag or splutter leaving her mouth. His ears ring at the sight, and he’d never call her this out loud, but he considers himself more than blessed to have such an eager and naturally talented whore on his hands. The thought of her standing in front of the bathroom mirror, gagging on her own fingers, practicing for her stepbrother’s cock, training that throat for its intended use, spit and tears on the determined lines of her face, makes his pulse quicken and balls throb.

“Fuck,” he growls, grabs her by the hair and shoves in, her nose nestled in his pubes nicely. She struggles, but not much, and he realizes that he wouldn’t care even if she did. He gave her a fair warning. “Fucking perfect, yeah, sucking me so well, take that dick, just like that. ‘m gonna load up your mouth nicely, baby, gonna feed you full, gonna take days for the taste of my jizz to leave your molars, fuck-“

Nick’s orgasm crashes over him full force, has him bend and press even deeper into her mouth, laughing through her whines and protests, the slapping of her hands against whatever body part of his she can reach. She can’t breathe because of him, but he, as well, can’t breathe because of her, so it checks out. When he lets her go, she scrambles away from him, coughs through forceful inhales, wide and scared eyes looking up at him.

“Told you,” he pants, shrugs, “you wanted it.” 

She doesn’t say anything- even if she did, it’d barely come out, he knows, voice shot to shit. He washes himself quickly, rids his skin of the stickiness of her spit, before grabbing her by her upper arm and roughly hauling her to her feet.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me take care of you,” he says, starts washing her sloppily, and he was right. Her voice is hoarse.

“Could do it more gently,” she grumbles, yelps when he bites at her shoulder, soothes the spot with his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers over the noise of the shower, “That was… talent.”

She chuckles shily, turns to look up at him.

“Can I have a kiss?”

His gut clenches as his face explodes in a smile, pulling her in to kiss her deeply. The way she melts into him, lets herself be held despite knowing what those hands are capable of, makes his heart jump for her.

It’s a sticky situation, but he’s got the upper hand, still.

He has to make sure it stays that way.

*** 

“This tastes vile.”

“No, it doesn’t! Sweet and salty is a classic combination!”

“The textures are weird, though. I need to chew my popcorn thoroughly so I wouldn’t choke on it, and the Malteser is… distracting.”

A snort. “You three years old, Nicholas? Gotta focus on chewing that bad, huh?”

“You little-“

“Ah, stop! That tickles, Nick- ah, no! No, don’t-“

“I’ll show you three years old!”

Laughter, panting, snickering, silence.

“Watch the damn movie, you brat.”

“I’m all out of Maltesers now.”

“Good, that’ll keep you from coming up with these weird concoctions.”

“Tsk. Jerk.”

The sound of lips smacking. 

*** 

Their parents come back earlier than expected. Nicholas isn’t mad at that, but things will become trickier with her now. They’ll have to be sneakier, more careful, but the risk of getting caught makes something hot clench in his stomach. No doubt, they’ll manage well.

He’s asked to pick them up from the airport and he doesn’t object, takes his stepsister with him. The drive is comfortable, she plays her favorite songs, he hums along.

“Oh, Nicky,” their mom sighs when she pulls away from a hug, smiling sheepishly, teeth whiter in contrast with her tan. There’s two people standing next to their parents, Nicholas doesn’t know them. “We told Sandra and Marcus that we’ll drive them home, we didn’t expect (Y/N) to come with you.” 

Oh. Oops. Six people, five seats, that’ll be a tight fit. 

“We can also just take a cab-“

“Nonsense,” their dad interrupts Sandra, “(Y/N) will just sit in Nicholas’ lap, right? Y’all don’t mind, do you, kids?” 

The look he gives them, stern in good old Chavez fashion, leaves no room for argument.

“Um…” her eyes are darting from him to their dad, but Nicholas just shrugs, does his best to look nonchalant. 

“’course not, it’s a short drive. Let’s just hope we don’t get caught.”

His dad brushes him off before he motions for their friends to start walking with them, Nicholas leading the way. (Y/N) stays behind with her mom, talking quietly. The whole way home with her ass perched on his lap? He wills his dick to calm down where it’s chubbing up in his pants, to no avail. His body does what it wants. Having arrived at the car, their dad puts the suitcases in the trunk while the others pile in one after the other, Nicholas’ sister the very last to sit down, getting comfortable on his lap. He groans when she moves roughly to get situated, a small apology falling from her lips. He pinches her side for that, causing her to yelp, gets snapped at by their dad for it. 

“Behave, y’all,” he grumbles, making Nicholas smirk.

(Y/N) still gets uncomfortable when dad scolds her, too apologetic for her own good, but Nick knows there’s very little heat behind the roughly spoken words. It’s what he has in common with his father, he supposes.

They start driving and Nicholas ducks his head as much as he can so they wouldn’t look too suspicious in case they drive by a cop car. The grownups are talking loudly amongst themselves, and he loops his hands around her waist, holds her steady. Her head barely touches the top of the car, and he loves just how small she is. The urge to kiss at the back of her neck is huge, but he resists. He’ll just have to sneak into her room later and put her on her knees, fuck her throat the way he’s been doing for the past few days.

Not much time passes before she starts squirming.

“Y’alright?” he asks her, loosening his hold in case it puts her body in an uncomfortable position.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. All good.”

A beat passes before she does it again, presses her weight down on his lap, making him clench his teeth. There’s no way she can’t feel his boner, and there’s no way he’ll do anything about anything right here, right now. Fucking tease, his sister is. 

“Can you quit it?” he hisses lowly when she honest to God grinds her ass down, makes him dizzy for a split second. The inseam of his jeans has never felt tighter and his dick’s never been more familiar with discomfort than just now.

The giggle she lets out gets muffled by her palm as she glances back at him, all wide-eyed and falsely innocent, and she shrugs.

“Sorry, big brother, ‘s just a little uncomfy like this.”

The way she purrs it, that bittersweet name, makes his gut churn. He has half a mind to keep from pinching her sides, grabbing her hair and shaking her so she’ll stop her shenanigans. If she thinks that she can act out now just because their parents are back home, lulled into false security, she’s got another thing coming.

“That’s a great song, dad. Can you turn it up a little?” he calls, smiling when his dad obliges.

“That’s my boy,” the older man says, ever the rock’n’roll fan.

Now that the music’s loud enough, distracting enough, Nicholas dares to put his lips next to her ear, hiss out a warning. 

“You keep this little charade up and I’ll hurt your cunt until you’re crying on my tongue when we get home, (Y/N).”

It can be interpreted as something sexy, tinged with a little bit of sultry, but she knows better. When he mentions pain, he means pain. She knows that damn well, scared despite the fact that she gets off on it. Nicholas prefers to keep his girl on her toes.

“Sorry,” she whispers, a tilt to her mouth, but when their dad accidentally overlooks a pothole and the car jumps, she lets her weight press down harder than necessary, grabs his thigh to steady herself but digs her little finger in just a little too deep. 

Alright then, he’s warned her.

Her skirt is wide, frilly enough to hide his hand sneaking down between his own legs, up to reach between hers, his eyes trained on the unassuming guests next to them. The couple seems too preoccupied to pay them any mind, though, and he uses that to his advantage, presses his knuckles into his stepsister’s pussy and rubs roughly. Clever little girl, hides her yelp of surprise behind a cough, same way he hides his smirk when he feels the damp fabric, feels the way her clit hardens under his merciless touch.

“You stay quiet now,” he whispers, pulsing his touch against her skin, teasing her into an approaching orgasm. Not that he’ll let her come, not now and not later, for that matter. 

Where only minutes ago her grinding and rocking pissed him off, he now enjoys feeling her chase her pleasure, enjoys how hard she’s trying to be subtle. A quick glance towards the others tells him that nobody is looking at them, still enjoying the music, and her face in the rearview mirror is stoic as well, just a tiny furrow between her brows a potential giveaway, but only to those who know what’s going on, only to Nicholas. 

“Good baby, my good fuckin’ baby,” he rasps, clutches at her pussy and squeezes, makes her feel it.

Another whimper, another cough.

“Y’alright, sweetheart?” their mother then asks, turning down the music, forcing Nicholas to still his hand and hold his breath in hopes of not getting caught. “You’ve been coughing an awful lot during the drive.”

(Y/N) just smiles, shakes her head.

“It’s nothing, mom, just something in my throat. We were watching a movie and having popcorn before picking you guys up, must be a kernel that’s stuck or something.”

Her mom looks back, gaze worried but she nods, placated. 

The rest of the ride home doesn’t take long, thank God, and he lets their parents settle back in, assures them that they’ve eaten, tells them they’ll finish the movie they had started in his room before ushering her upstairs, mildly annoyed at her sudden inability to walk properly.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” he hisses, pushes her up the stairs.

“’m so wet, my legs feel like jello,” she whimpers, and he almost forces her on her knees right there in the hallway, but alas, he’s got to keep his very last thread of patience alive if he wants to train her to be his perfect little doll. She won’t learn otherwise, he fears.

“You’re cute,” he smiles before pushing his door open, pulling her into the room and immediately making sure she falls onto his bed- made and ready, for a change- watching him as he locks the door. “You’ll be cuter when I’m done with you, though.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to ride her skirt up, pull her panties down and stuff them in her mouth, wet patch first. Her pussy is glistening in front of him, and he wastes no time putting his mouth on it and sucking hard, the pain of the blood rushing to the surface making her groan. Pain, he promised, pain, she’ll get. She peaks quickly but he doesn’t let her go over the edge, pulls away and lands a nasty slap on her pussy that leaves her shaking, leaves her throbbing. 

“That’s what you fuckin’ get you goddamn tease,” he snaps before continuing his pattern.

He eats, waits, slaps. Eats, waits, slaps. 

Holds his palm over her cunt and presses, moves, watches her writhe with the cotton hanging from her mouth, little sister mouth filled with little sister panties. His cock throbs for it. 

When she’s actively crying, sobbing her little heart out, he throws her legs in the air and commands her to hold them up. It’s a testament to her desperation, the way she obliges without complaint, the way she’s been doing as told without a single tone of complaint. Not taking advantage of that would be a shame. Two moves and his cock is free, hanging heavy between his shaky legs but he doesn’t care, grabs it and jerks himself before his knees can give out.

“That’s a good girl, present yourself to your big brother,” he moans, looks at her puffy pussy and her wide, teary eyes, the way she’s begging with them, eyeing the blur of his hand over his fat dick before settling her pleading gaze onto his. “Gonna come, gonna cover you in it, mark my territory and make you smell like me, y’want that, (Y/N)? Want everyone to know that your sweet cunt belongs to your big brother?”

This kink is getting out of hand, but he doesn’t give a single fuck, because where he is sick and rotten, she is, too.

She nods through a moan and there he is, spurting his hot semen all across her slapped-red cunt, covering what’s his from the outside, for now. She gasps when the streaks hit her skin, rocks back and forth while he rides out his climax, and when he’s done, all panting and heavy-lidded, he drives his fingers through the mess and brings it up to her lips, smearing it on her underwear.

“You know this one already, don’t you?” he says, breath heavy as he continues to clean her that way, soiling her panties. “That’s what you did with the thong I ruined, didn’t you? Sucked my jizz out of the lace like a come-addicted little slut, didn’t you? Huh?”

A single tear rolls down her shame-tinted cheek, and he groans through a chuckle.

“Show me. Show me how you did it.”

The ruined cotton gets pulled out between her lips before her tongue finds it, licks the globs away roughly, sweet lips pursing over the material before her little cheeks hollow, sucking his juices out. If he hadn’t been using her every day, he’d be rock hard again now, but alas, his balls are empty and the contents of them are currently being greedily sucked down her talented throat. Nicholas is one lucky guy.

When she’s done, he rips the panties out of her mouth and kisses her bruisingly, hungrily, devours the taste of their combined fluids and moans when she pulls him close. Being held onto is one of Nicholas’ favorite things in the world, the sheer need in such a simple gesture, but nobody’s body has ever felt this right around his. 

“What the fuck,” she whispers against his lips, laughing through the tears that are staining her cheeks. “I feel like I came but I didn’t. What…”

He smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You’ll be coming soon enough, baby, this was just a little taste of what happens when you piss me off. And you did piss me off, that teasing in the car was- it was almost unbearable. Nearly fucked you right then and there.”

Her smile is small, almost timid, but it vanishes quickly. Nicholas tilts his head in question and gets an answer immediately, albeit reluctantly. 

“Why… Why haven’t you? Fucked me yet, I mean. We’ve been doing this, us, for a while now and you’ve never… I don’t- I’m just wondering, ‘s all.” 

A stutter in his chest tells him his heart’s melting for her, the insecure tilt to her voice, and he has to try hard not to jump her right then and there. Leave it to his girl to catch him off guard, rip at the reigns he’s clutching onto so tightly. He makes sure to keep his voice soft, tries to make her understand without spooking her, now that she’s eating from the palm of his hand like this. 

“You’re the sweetest thing, do you know that?” he muses, taps her chin when she looks away. “I just don’t wanna rush anything. I wanna take my time with you, make it real good for you… You can understand that, right?”

It’s not really a question, but she nods like the good girl she is.

“You that desperate for my cock, (Y/N)?” he can’t help but tease, earning himself a swat to the shoulder. They laugh together, his favorite sound. 

“I was just curious, Nick. Usually guys are, well-“

“I’m not just any guy though, okay?” his voice is stern now, all humor wiped from it. “I won’t treat you like they did. I’m your stepbrother, I care about you.”

The warm smile she gives him zaps him right down to his toes, leaning in so she can kiss him the way she wants to. They make out a little, enjoy each other. 

He makes a mental note, smug about her needing him so badly. A lot can be done with that, and he plans to see just how much fun it’ll bring him.

*** 

The sneaking around is even harder than he imagined, their parents insisting to make up for lost time and not parting from them for even a day. It’s visits to the park, family barbecues, movie nights, the whole shebang. He barely manages to get a kiss in when they’re passing each other in the hallway, a slap to the ass when she walks out of the bathroom before he walks in. 

A feeling of restlessness comes with it, paired with the irrational fear of false scrutiny. What if it’s written all over his face, he thinks, that he wants her, whenever he looks at her, that he’s fighting off the urge to kiss her whenever she’s close, to rest his hand atop her thigh and feel her muscles twitch, to lean his arm against hers when they’re standing close, to bury his nose in her hair and inhale the chamomile scent of her latest favorite shampoo? Poker faces take years to construct, and he’s used the time wisely, but what if, now that he has her, his has crumbled to pieces at his unsteady feet?

So Nicholas adjusts, turns away when he catches her looking for too long, keeps the touching to a minimum, makes sure to roll his eyes at her whenever their mom is around, makes sure to let some sour jokes slip whenever their dad listens in, just to keep the illusion up.

He makes do, as does she, even though he knows she doesn’t like it.

“I ain’t mean it like that, you know that,” he cajoles when she gets mad for real, squeezes at his heart with one well-placed pout. 

“I know, ‘s just… it sucks, y’know?”

Well, if that ain’t true.

He holds her through some big feelings, as a big brother should, kisses it better whenever the opportunity arises. 

“Is she still not up? What’s gotten into her, I told her the time of departure!”

“Relax, mom, we’ve still got another forty minutes,” Nicholas says through a mouthful of an apple, scrolling on his phone. It pings with an invite to a party next Saturday, and he saves the info to think it over later. 

“Oh, you know how long she takes in the bathroom,” mom grumbles, fleets about in the kitchen to pack the snacks and sandwiches, making sure they’re set for the day at the lake. Nicholas doesn’t know where his dad is. “Go wake her, please, Nick? I’ve still got so much to pack.”

“Do you need my help with that?”

“No, I need to not be interrupted. Go get (Y/N), please?”

He sighs and gets up, throws the apple core away. Sticky hands find his jeans and he wipes them thoughtlessly, much to the dismay of the woman who still does his laundry, as he makes his way up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He knocks twice- just for shits and gigs, uncaring about whatever privacy his sister thinks she gets in this house- before opening her door and stopping in his tracks. 

Slow steps take him inside, shutting the door behind himself, and the sight before him makes his stomach clench. She’s in her tank top, one boob spilling out from the material, and her little panties, framing her cheeks perfectly from where she’s got one leg bent. Her face is smushed in the pillow so her mouth purses in a pout, half open, red and drooly. 

It takes him a split second to make the decision. They haven’t talked about it, but they never talk about anything, not really. He takes and she gives, that’s their dynamic, that’s who they are. So it’s guilt-free when he walks over to her bed, pulls his joggers and underwear down, grips his cock to stroke it to hardness. 

The memory of how he had her throat around his cock every night before the return of their parents gets him there fast, makes him miss it even more now, the need pooling low in his gut. 

There’s precome dripping from his slit and he bends his knees a little so her face is in front of his crotch, smears his cockhead on those full lips, smirks when she scrunches her nose up before her face relaxes again. Heartbeat in his throat, he does it again, groans when her tongue darts out this time. Her reflexes seem to revolve around fucking him up, making the darkest of thoughts push to the forefront of his mind, even in her sleep.

“Good fuckin’ girl, fuck,” Nick murmurs under his breath, jerks his cock faster and makes sure to bump against her lips on every upstroke, gloss her gorgeous pout with his essence. She’s so adorable, and all his to ruin. 

He strokes himself a little faster, gets closer and pulls his cock up so his balls would bump against her chin, her nose, wherever they can reach on every upstroke. Laughing isn’t an option but he’d like to, let the dirty sound out, indulge fully in how he’s humiliating her without her knowledge. Maybe he’ll ask her if he can film her next time. He loves her, she knows that, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, would only do all the baddirtywrong things that make her pussy clench for him.

One hand reaches out to grab at her face and pinch her cheeks, create a delicious pout that serves as the perfect little cup when he finally spills onto her face, onto her lips, streaks the inside of her mouth and groans lowly when her lashes flutter around her slowly opening eyes.

“Wh-“

“Shut up,” he hisses, grabs her rougher as he rides out his orgasm, “take it, little girl, take it, have my come, taste it, atta girl, there she is-“

“Nicholas!” the whine bubbles out of her throat, somewhat garbled through the come covering her mouth, and she scrunches her face up when he lets her go, exhales deeply before holding his softening dick out to her.

“Well?” he asks, expectant look on his face and the ball of pride in his chest explodes into a million fuzzy feelings when she only contemplates for a second before taking him in her mouth, cleaning him up.

She swallows all he gave her, collects everything from around her mouth onto her tongue, lips smacking at the taste.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, no real heat behind her words. Her voice is shot from sleep, all raspy and adorable.

He bends down to press a kiss against her forehead.

Nick gives her a shrug.

“You got my come, don’t complain,” he tells her, matter-of-factly, “also, mom wants you downstairs ASAP. We’re leaving soon.” 

Her annoyed huff is amusing to him, but he leaves her be for now, wants to keep the teasing for later. 

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” He waits for her to look at him. “I’ll make it up to you later. Come find me in the outdoor shower when you’re done, we’ll make it quick.”

The blush on her cheeks stays with him all the way downstairs. 

TAGLIST:

“Are you?” he breathes out, his morning voice soft and groggy, making you yearn for him more. You nod in response with a soft hum.

You can’t see what he’s doing, but the way the bedcovers shift above him suggests that his own hand has moved to his cock. His hand wraps around the shaft and moves in a slow, deliberate motion, matching with yours.

With your free hand, you inch your fingers closer to his, feeling his fingers stretch and wrap around yours. It’s a delicate touch, the only one you’re truly sharing while you both masturbate simultaneously, neither of you able to see what the other is doing. Yet, it has never felt more erotic to you, especially when his low grunts and groans gradually morph into soft whimpers, followed by your name.