Chapter 7: Siblings fun
Deborah descended the stairs in a slow, deliberate cascade of scent and sound, the tight black dress whispering against her thighs with each step. She paused at the bottom, knowing Danny was watching from the hall, and let one hand slide down her hip. “Well?” she asked, her voice a low purr as she turned fully toward him, the neckline dipping dangerously. His breath hitched, a tiny, satisfying sound, and the front of his pants tented visibly. From the kitchen doorway, their mother sipped her wine, her smile a silent, pleased curve in the shadows.
Danny’s face burned as he mumbled a goodbye, fleeing upstairs to the sanctum of his own room. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic echo of the look she’d given him. He shucked his clothes, hands fumbling with the clasps of his 2B cosplay, the cool fabric a relief against his flushed skin. The black combat boots felt heavy, anchoring him as he took a steadying breath.
He knocked twice on Chloe’s door, a specific rhythm they’d used since they were kids. “It’s open,” her voice called, muffled and amused. He pushed inside, the familiar scent of her perfume—vanilla and something sharp like acrylic paint—washing over him.
Chloe was standing by her bed, her back to him, and the sight stole the air from his lungs. The crimson jacket of Yoko Littner’s costume was unzipped, hanging loose to reveal the intricate harness system sculpted against her bare back. She turned, the movement making the long fall of her blonde hair sway, and smiled at his stunned silence. The harness accentuated every curve, leading the eye down to the impossibly short orange shorts and the high-heeled ankle boots that made her legs look miles long.
“Took you long enough,” she said, her eyes dropping to take in his own cosplay with an appreciative glint. “Deborah leaving a lasting impression?” She took a step closer, the heels clicking on the hardwood, her gaze knowingly tracing the residual tension in his shoulders. Danny swallowed, the memory of his mother’s watching smile flashing in his mind, but here, now, it was just Chloe’s playful, challenging stare filling up the pastel room. “Shut up,” he managed, the words coming out softer than he intended.
“Adorable,” Chloe whispered, closing the distance until the studs on her jacket brushed his chest. Her fingers, cool and precise, found the zip of his own cosplay pants, tracing the hard line beneath the fabric. “Still thinking about Mom’s little show downstairs?”
He flinched at her words, a hot wave of shame and arousal twisting his gut. “Chloe, don’t—” he started, but her mouth was on his, cutting off the protest with a hungry, searching kiss that tasted of mint and daring. Her tongue slid against his, demanding, and her hand finally unzipped him, freeing his aching cock into the cool air of her bedroom. She broke the kiss, her breath warm on his cheek as she looked down.
“This isn’t for her,” she murmured, her grip tightening at his base with a possessiveness that made him shudder. She guided him backwards until his legs hit the edge of her floral comforter, and he sat down hard. Without a word, she climbed onto his lap, the rough material of her shorts grating against his thighs, her heels digging into the mattress on either side of him. She positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, already slick and hot through the thin fabric of her costume.
“This is for us,” she said, her voice dropping to a feral growl as she sank down onto him in one brutal, seamless motion, sheathing him completely inside her tight, wet heat. He cried out, a raw sound torn from his throat, his hands flying to her hips as she began to move.
She rode him with a frenetic, punishing rhythm, her body a furious piston, the heels of her boots giving her brutal leverage.
She rode him with a frenetic, punishing rhythm, her body a furious piston, the heels of her boots giving her brutal leverage. “Still thinking about Mom?” Chloe gasped, her nails raking down his chest through the fabric of his uniform, the pain a bright, clarifying stripe. Her tight cunt clenched around him, a slick, perfect vise milking his cock with each frantic bounce.
The floral comforter bunched beneath them, a chaotic nest of fabric and desperation. Danny’s mind went white, every thought scoured away by the raw slap of flesh and her choked cries. “Answer me,” she snarled, leaning in, her blonde hair a wild curtain around their faces. “Say whose this is.”
He could only groan, his hands finding purchase on the swell of her ass, his fingers digging into the firm muscle under the orange shorts. He thrust upwards, meeting her punishing descent, driving himself deeper into her swollen heat. The sound of their joining was obscenely wet, a filthy squelch that underscored each hard stroke.
“Mine,” he grunted, the word torn from some primal place, as he bucked hard, impaling her. Chloe threw her head back, a raw, shattered cry erupting from her throat as her whole body seized, clenching violently around his invading length. She gushed around him, a hot flood that coated his thighs.
Her sweat-slicked skin stuck to the fabric of his 2B uniform as he crushed her against him, their frantic panting the only sound in the perfumed room. “You’re a fucking mess,” he whispered into her neck, his voice ragged, his cock still buried to the hilt inside her quivering cunt.
She laughed, a breathless, shattered sound against his shoulder. “You made me that way.” Her fingers tangled in his tousled brown hair, pulling his head back to meet her gaze. The playful glint was gone, replaced by something darker, a challenge that echoed the raw need from the basement at Mike’s party.
“Prove it,” she breathed, her lips inches from his. “Show me you’re not that shy boy anymore.” Her words were a dare, a direct callback to the animal hunger he’d witnessed but not participated in. Danny felt a coil of something possessive and sharp tighten in his gut.
He kissed her again, hard, a clash of teeth and tongue that was more a fight than affection. His hands slid from her back down to the firm globes of her ass, gripping the orange shorts. With a raw, guttural sound, he broke the kiss.