Chapter 2: Morning After the Dream
Kevin jolted awake with a gasp, his heart hammering against his ribs. A cold sweat slicked his skin. For a disorienting second, the sensations were too real—the crushing weight of regret, the sticky warmth between Ashlee’s thighs, the devastating silence after. He blinked at the familiar ceiling, the soft grey light of dawn.
A dream. It was all a vicious, detailed dream.
Relief, so profound it felt like nausea, washed through him. His body untensed, sinking back into the mattress. Thank Christ. It hadn’t happened. They were still… them.
Then he felt the weight beside him. The warmth. The soft, even sound of breathing.
He turned his head slowly on the pillow.
Ashlee was asleep on her stomach, one arm curled under her head. The duvet was bunched around her waist. She was topless, her back a pale, smooth landscape, the perfect curve of her breast visible where it was pressed into the mattress. Her dark hair fanned out, messy and sweet. She’d kicked the sheets off in the night, claiming she was always too hot.
His own nakedness felt suddenly acute. He always slept naked. It was normal. This was normal. She’d crashed here after her apartment flooded. His best friend. His little sis. They’d fallen asleep watching a dumb movie, him naked under the sheets, her in just her panties and one of his t-shirts. The shirt was gone now, lost in the night.
Just a dream. A fucked-up, hyper-realistic dream. But it means something, doesn’t it? His mind, still fuzzy with sleep and the nightmare’s aftermath, was already churning. The want is in there. It’s in me. It’s probably in her, too. Buried. How do you… excavate that? How do you make it her idea?
His cock, indifferent to his psychological turmoil, was already stirring, thickening against his own thigh. The dream had left him achingly hard. He shifted, and the back of his hand brushed her bare arm.
She murmured, a soft, sleepy sound, and rolled onto her side facing him. The movement made her breasts shift, sway, then settle. The pink nipple was inches from his face. He could see the slight pucker of it in the cool morning air. His mouth went dry.
Don’t. Just don’t. Wake her up. Make coffee. Be normal.
But the dream had carved a channel in his brain, a path of filth and possibility. She’s right there. And I’m rock hard. And she’s seen me hard before, kidding around after the gym. It’s a joke between us. It can stay a joke… until it isn’t.
Ashlee’s internal log flickered to life, bleary and warm. Mmm. Kevin’s bed. So soft. Smells like him. Why am I so hot? Oh, right. No shirt. He’s gonna give me shit for that. Hope he’s still asleep. Don’t wanna move.
She cracked an eye open.
Kevin was awake, watching her. His blue eyes were dark, unreadable. And there, against his hip, was the very clear, very substantial outline of his erection beneath the sheet.
Oh. A flush spread from her chest to her throat. Okay. He’s… yeah. Morning wood. It’s normal. It’s fine. Don’t be a weirdo. Say something funny.
“You’re staring at my boob,” she mumbled, her voice gravelly with sleep. She didn’t cover herself.
“It’s staring at me,” he said, his voice equally rough. “It’s rude.”
A slow smile touched her lips. “It’s ambivalent.”
“It’s begging for a tweak.”
Her eyes widened playfully. “You wouldn’t dare.”
This is the lane. This is our lane. Kevin’s thoughts were a frantic, focused hum. Tickling. Wrestling. Goofy, physical, platonic shit. It’s the airlock. It’s the only way from here to there without blowing the whole ship apart.
“I would absolutely dare,” he said, and his hand darted out, fingers spider-walking toward her ribcage.
She shrieked, a genuine, startled sound, and scrambled back. “Kevin! No!”
“Too late!” He was on her in a flash, the sheet falling away completely. He was fully naked now, his hard cock bouncing as he moved. He didn’t care. It was part of the game. It had to be. He straddled her hips, pinning her to the mattress with his weight, his hands going for her most vulnerable spots—the sides of her torso, the spot just above her hip bones.
She erupted into helpless, gasping laughter, bucking beneath him. “Get off! You’re crushing me, you oaf!”
“Say you’re sorry for your boob’s insolence!”
“Never!”
They wrestled, a tangle of limbs and laughter. He was stronger, always had been. He maneuvered her onto her back, his knees pinning her thighs apart. He leaned over her, his face above hers, both of them panting. Her breasts heaved with each breath, nipples taut. His cock, trapped between his stomach and her pelvis, throbbed insistently.
This is dangerous. This is so fucking dangerous. His internal monologue was a scream. Her skin is so soft. She’s so wet between her legs, I can smell it. Fuck. Keep it light. Keep it moving.
“You give?” he growled, trying to sound teasing.
“Not a chance,” she wheezed, her eyes bright with mirth and something else—a wild, challenging glint.
In a sudden burst of strength, she twisted, using her leverage to roll him. For a second, she was on top, straddling his waist, victorious. But the victory was short-lived. He hooked a foot behind her knee and yanked. She yelped, her balance gone, and tumbled forward.
She didn’t fall to the side. She fell straight forward, her hands landing on the pillow on either side of his head. Her body slid up his, and suddenly, she was straddling his face, her knees by his ears. The soft, warm expanse of her panties—a simple cotton pair—was directly over his mouth. He could feel the heat radiating from her core.
They both froze.
The laughter died in their throats.
Oh, god. Ashlee’s mind went blank, then white-hot. I’m sitting on his face. My pussy is on his mouth. He’s naked. His cock is right there, against my back. I can feel it, like a steel bar. Don’t move. Don’t breathe.
Kevin’s world narrowed to the scent of her, sweet and musky, and the overwhelming nearness of his own aching erection. It lay along the cleft of her ass, the head nudging the small of her back. Nine inches. Right there. She can feel every inch. Now. It has to be now. Use the whimsey. Use the joke.
He let his head loll to the side, his cheek resting against her inner thigh. He made his voice deliberately casual, strained. “Well. This is a development.”
She let out a shaky, nervous giggle. “A tactical error.”
“A catastrophic one. For you.” He took a slow, deliberate breath through his nose. “I’m now aware of… strategic information.”
“Shut up,” she whispered, but she didn’t move.
She’s not moving. She’s letting me smell her. Oh, Jesus. He turned his head just slightly, so his lips brushed the cotton. He felt her whole body flinch. “You’re kinda trapped, best friend.”
“I could get up.”
“You could. But you won’t.” He brought his hands up, slowly, and rested them on the backs of her thighs. His thumbs stroked idle circles on her skin. “Because you’re curious. And because my dick is currently making a indent in your spine. And you’re wondering about it.”
She was silent. Her breathing was shallow, quick.
He’s right. I am. I’ve always wondered. It’s right there. Thick and hard and… his. Ashlee’s thoughts were a frantic spiral. This is the line. The line we don’t cross. But we’re already so far over it, we can’t even see it anymore.
“It’s just… there,” she finally said, her voice small.
“It’s right there,” he corrected, his tone still light, conversational. “It’s probably wondering why you haven’t said hello. It’s a polite dick. It expects manners.”
Another shaky giggle escaped her. “You’re insane.”
“I’m honest.” He shifted his hips minutely, making his cock slide against her skin. “See? It’s trying to get your attention.”
She swallowed audibly. He could see her hands fists in the pillowcase. The internal battle in her head was almost audible. This is Kevin. My best friend. The one who held my hair back when I puked in college. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But his hands on my thighs feel so good. And I’m so wet for him. What would it taste like?
“It looks… heavy,” she murmured.
Bingo. Kevin’s heart slammed against his ribs. Now. Gently. Make it hers.
“It is. Morning wood’s a bitch. All that blood just… stuck.” He sighed, a performance of casual suffering. “You could always… I don’t know. Knock it off its perch. Put it out of its misery. As a favor.”
Silence. Then, so quiet he almost missed it: “A favor.”
“A humanitarian mission. You’d be a hero.” He kept his thumbs moving on her thighs, a soothing, rhythmic pattern. “Think of it as returning the favor for me not suffocating under your… generous assets.”
She didn’t laugh this time. He felt her body tense, then make a decision. A subtle shift of weight.
Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself back, sliding down his body. The wet cotton of her panties dragged over his mouth, his chin, his chest. She didn’t stop until she was kneeling between his legs. She stared at his cock, which lay full and upright against his stomach, the veins prominent, the head swollen and dark.
Holy shit. She’s actually going to do it. She’s looking at my dick like it’s a puzzle she needs to solve. Don’t move. Don’t scare her off. Let her own this.
Ashlee’s internal log was a hurricane of fear and desperate desire. I’m going to do it. I’m going to touch it. It’s so much bigger up close. He called it ‘polite.’ It doesn’t look polite. It looks hungry. What do I do? Just… put my mouth on it? Her own need was a throbbing, insistent pulse between her legs. The image from his dream—which she’d never know was a dream—felt like a premonition.
She reached out a single, trembling finger and touched the hot, silken skin of the shaft. It jumped under her touch. Kevin hissed in a sharp breath.
“See?” he said, his voice strained now, all pretense of casualness vanishing. “It likes you.”
She wrapped her fingers around the base, tentatively. She couldn’t close her thumb and forefinger. The girth was shocking. The weight was real. She gave a tentative stroke, her eyes fixed on it, watching the skin glide over the rigid core beneath.
Oh, fuck. Her hand. Her small, soft hand. Kevin bit the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. Don’t thrust. Don’t grab her head. Let her.
“It’s… really big, Kev,” she whispered, almost to herself.
“You can handle it,” he breathed. “You’re tougher than you look. Besides, it’s just a mouth. It’s just suction. You’ve eaten messy burritos with more commitment.”
A snort of surprised laughter escaped her. The tension broke, just a fraction. “You’re comparing your dick to a messy burrito?”
“I’m just saying the mechanics are within your skill set.” He propped himself up on his elbows to watch her. “Come on, best friend. Curiosity killed the cat. Satisfaction brought it back.”
He’s making it my idea. He’s letting me choose. The realization unlocked something in her. The last thread of hesitation snapped. She leaned forward, her hair falling around her face. She didn’t kiss him. She didn’t look at his eyes. She kept her gaze locked on the glistening tip.
She opened her mouth, her tongue coming out first. She gave one long, slow lick from the base of his balls all the way up the shaft to the head. The taste was clean, salty, uniquely him.
Kevin saw stars. A groan was torn from him. “Yeah. Just like that.”
Encouraged, she circled the swollen head, her tongue probing the slit, tasting the pre-come that had beaded there. It was bitter, addictive. She closed her lips over the crown, taking just the head into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.
Oh my god. It’s in my mouth. Kevin’s dick is in my mouth.
The warmth was shocking, the reality of it a physical tremor that ran through her shoulders. She sucked tentatively, her tongue pressing against the frenulum, and heard the sharp, ragged intake of breath above her. It emboldened her. She sank down another inch, the thick ridge of his head stretching her lips wide.
“That’s it, little sis,” Kevin murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, private register. The old nickname was now coated in a new, lurid gloss. “Just like that. Take it easy on your old brother.”
His words, so wrong and so perfect, sent a direct current to her core. She moaned around his flesh, the vibration pulling a choked groan from him. She pulled back, saliva stringing from her lips to his glistening shaft. “Don’t call me that right now,” she breathed, but her eyes were dark, hungry.
“Why not?” he teased, his hand coming to rest gently on the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. It wasn’t forceful. It was an anchor. “It’s what you are. My best friend. My little sister. And you’ve got my cock in your fucking mouth. I can’t believe my best friend is sucking my dick.”
He said it with a kind of awed whimsy, laughing softly in disbelief. This compartmentalization—the filth framed by their lifelong affection—unlocked something wild in her. She took him back into her mouth, deeper this time, bobbing with more purpose. Her hand worked the base in a tight fist.
I’m sucking Kevin’s dick. Her thoughts were a naked, repeating chant. His taste is in my throat. I can feel his hips wanting to thrust. He’s letting me lead. He called me ‘little sis.’ Her own panties were soaked, a desperate, throbbing ache echoing the rhythm of her mouth.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his composure fraying. His abdominal muscles were clenched tight, a rigid landscape. “My quirky best friend, the girl from the call center, going to town. You look so pretty like this. This is our secret, okay? Just a little secret between us. This changes nothing.”
She nodded, her head moving in his gentle grasp, her affirmation felt all along his length. She picked up speed, her cheeks hollowing. The wet, rhythmic sounds filled the sunlit room. Pre-come seeped from him, a constant, salty trickle she swallowed greedily.
“God, Ashlee,” he panted. “You’re too good
“God, Ashlee,” he panted. “You’re too good at this. Where’d you learn that, you secret little slut?” His fingers tightened in her hair, not yet forcing, but claiming. The vulgar endearment, so opposite to ‘little sis,’ made her moan around him. She took him deeper, choking slightly, her eyes watering as the thick head nudged the back of her throat.
He watched her struggle, her pretty face strained, and a darker current surged through him. The careful patience snapped. “Okay, best friend,” he rasped. “Playtime’s over.”
In one fluid motion, he pulled his hips back, yanking his slick cock from her mouth. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. Before she could react, he brought his hand down, not with his palm, but with the shaft of his own erection. He smacked the side of her face with it. A wet, stinging crack.
Ashlee flinched, her eyes flying wide.
“Just numbing it up for you,” Kevin said, his voice low and steady, a ruthless smile playing on his lips. He did it again on the other cheek, a deliberate, measured slap with his rigid flesh. The impact was sharp, humiliating, strangely intimate. A prelude. Her skin flushed instantly. “Gotta get you in the game, little sis. You’re still in your head.”
A third smack, harder, directly across her mouth. She tasted pre-come and salt on her lips. Her head rocked with the force. A dizzying heat pooled in her stomach, a submissive thrill she’d never named coiling tight. She was panting, her gaze locked on his, terrified and utterly riveted.
“There,” he murmured, smoothing her hair back with a grotesque tenderness. “Now you’re ready.”
He guided himself back between her parted lips. She took him eagerly, hollowing her cheeks, but he was in control now. His thrusts were shallow, precise, fucking her mouth with a focused rhythm. He watched her closely, his blue eyes dilated and dark. “Such a good best friend,” he crooned, his thumb stroking her jaw where he’d struck her. “Taking her brother’s dick so well. My favorite person in the world.”
The words wrapped around the violation, making it something she could cling to. She reached for his hips, her nails digging in.
His rhythm stuttered. The pressure in his balls was a crystalline, urgent spike. “Okay, here it comes, Ashlee. Don’t you dare spill a drop.” As the first violent pulse gathered at the base of his spine, he acted. His left hand clamped over her mouth, his right pinched her nose shut, sealing her completely.
Her eyes bulged. Panic flared, a wild instinct to thrash. He held her firm, his hips driving forward, burying himself to the hilt in her sealed throat. The orgasm tore through him.
The first jet was a scalding flood against her locked epiglottis. She gagged, her body convulsing, but he held her fast, a human vise. The second spurt shot deeper. The third. He groaned, his whole body trembling with the force of it. “Seven, you greedy girl,” he gritted out between pulses, his voice thick with a furious affection. “Seven loads for my best friend. Swallow it. Take your brother’s fucking come.”
Four. Five. She was swallowing convulsively, desperately, the bitter-salty essence flooding her senses, her lungs burning for air. Six. A final, pumping eruption that felt endless. Seven.
Only when he was utterly spent, soft and emptying, did he release her nose and mouth. She collapsed forward, sucking in a ragged, sobbing gasp, coughing, strings of semen and saliva dripping from her lips and chin onto the white sheets.
He looked down at her, at the mess he’d made of her face. He gently took her chin in his hand, tilting her head up. With his other thumb, he collected a thick dribble of his own cum from her chin. He brought it to her swollen, parted lips. “You missed some, little sis,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Clean it up. For me.”
Eyes glazed, obedient, she opened her mouth and sucked his thumb clean, her tongue swirling around the digit. He pulled it out with a soft pop.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the only sound their ragged, merging breaths. The sun was fully up now, blazing against the windows. The city, indifferent, hummed below.
He finally leaned down and kissed her forehead, a chaste, brotherly press of his lips. “My best friend,” he sighed, the words heavy with absolute possession. Then he swung his legs out of bed. “I’m hitting the shower.
The steam from the bathroom began to curl around the bedroom doorframe, smelling of his expensive sandalwood soap. Kevin stood at the foot of the bed, stretching his arms overhead, the defined muscles of his abdomen tightening. He glanced at her, a strange, unreadable expression flickering across his face before settling into their familiar, casual mask.
Ashlee stayed on the bed, the taste of him still coating her tongue, a phantom fullness in her throat. She watched him, this man she’d known forever, now a catalogue of new sensations—the weight of him in her mouth, the sting of his skin on hers, the brutal way he’d held her sealed to him.
“You gonna just marinate in your own filth, or are you joining me?” he called over his shoulder, already walking toward the steam.
Her body felt heavy, liquefied. “My filth?” she managed, her voice hoarse. “I’m pretty sure that’s your filth.”
He paused in the bathroom doorway, a smirk playing on his lips. “Semantics. It’s our filth now. Communal filth. Get in here, the water’s almost hot.”
She pushed herself up, the sheets sticking slightly to her damp thighs. She padded into the vast, marble bathroom. He was leaning against the sink, naked, arms crossed, staring into the open glass shower stall where water began to patter