by Candy Quinn
“Nothin’!” he said obstinately, not meeting her eyes right away. “You did great today, that’s all,” he said, and swallowing down he squared his jaw and met her gaze at last, all serious.
Though she knew that couldn’t possibly be all.
Her brother had never been hard to read. He lived up to the jock stereotype — blunt, crass, and pushy. She kept his wrist pinned, and wondered what could be on his mind.
* * *
Zach
She just kept staring at him, questioning him. And maybe be hadn’t thought it through enough. What’d he think she’d do? Drink the wine and spread her legs without being a little brat about him being nice?
All she ever did was give him flak, but he kept thinking back to just how into it she’d been, getting herself off, and he wanted to see her writhe like that on his cock.
He yanked his hand away, moving towards the remote and grabbing it, plunking himself down on the couch. Maybe he could at least get her crawling all over him again, feeling him out. He’d just have to tease her until she did what he wanted.
* * *
Sylvia
The sudden change in his demeanor was both strange and reassuring. Because he was back to his old self, ousting her from her place and taking over, without so much as a word.
“Hey, I was here,” she said, out of reflex more than anything. She climbed back onto the sofa, though, as usual, his bulky form made the cushions all sink into his direction. Only her trained grace kept her steady and not teetering his way.
“Shut up and drink your wine,” he chastised her, reaching over with that big, thick arm of his and pinning her down to the couch for a moment.
She struggled, but she couldn’t help it. She laughed a little. He was back to usual, and she brought her tiny fist to his chest.
“I can’t drink my wine if you’re pinning me down, you brute,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
Hearing that laugh from her seemed to lighten him up as well, and he gave her an extra tight hold to the couch for a moment before he finally released her completely.
“Go on then,” he said, his own glass already drained of course.
She picked up the stem of the glass, her body still tilted towards him with his heavy bulk on the couch, scowling as he put on a football game.
She understood why people went to games in real life, but on TV it was just boring and the announcers were all annoying. She took another sip of her wine, though, trying to hold in her annoyance, but it was hard.
She just wanted to reach over, grab the remote, and get back to watching her movie. But she knew what would happen then. He’d pull the remote away, make her scramble for it until he got bored and swatted her away.
Well not this time!
She drank back the reset of her wine, putting the glass aside and then she lunged forward. She had to get the remote back, and she knew she always lost in the past, but this time she had some wine in her and felt more confident about her odds.
Instead of going right for the remote, one hand went to his side, fingers trying to tickle him as she got her footing on the couch and leaned forward with the other hand for the remote.
“You know I hate watching this garbage,” she said as her hand wrapped around the black object.
Normally her attempts to tickle him didn’t meet much success, but for some reason — perhaps the wine, she thought — she managed to get a grin out of him as she attacked him, her little digits wriggling along his hard, stony muscles.
“Hey, I’m King here, little Princess,” he said in his deep, husky voice, not letting her pluck that remote away from him as he put his other arm around behind her. Instead of shoving her away though, this time he pinned her down, pressing his palm into the small of her back so that she was locked in place atop his lap by his raw strength.
It took her off guard. One of her legs was stretched behind her, trapped between his two limbs, the other one bent at her side, her foot pressed in on the cushion next to his hip. She writhed, but couldn’t push herself up without relinquishing her quarter of the remote.
“Come on! You can have it all Sunday,” she pleaded, knowing that was the good day for football. She’d lived with him long enough to learn that.
Sylvia always that she thought she was so tough. She hated backing down from a fight, especially since she was fairly strong, especially compared to other five foot tall girls. She had good musculature, and she could wriggle out of any hold that Zach put her in, but she could never win.
He was just too much bigger than her, and much more willing to go all the way in their wrestling matches.
He left the remote just where it was, making her grind against his body as he wriggled it back and forth. Never further out of reach, but always just barely at risk of leaving her hand if she didn’t work for it.
And every time she squirmed, she coaxed his cock to fill with just a little more blood.
She could feel it against her. That... growth in his pants.
She knew what it was, but her mind was flooded with mixed thoughts. If she gave up the struggle, that’d just draw more attention to it and embarrass him, wouldn’t it?
Sylvia understood from health class that he couldn’t really help it, it was just a thing that sometimes happened, so she didn’t want to call him out. So she stayed there, pinned as she was, squirming for the remote, though she had to admit it had taken on a stranger atmosphere. It was like when he first gave her the wine, like their relationship had just flipped somehow that she didn’t understand.
It just felt different.
Much like how that hand on her back wasn’t just the cruel act of pinning her tightly, his long fingers seemed to stroke and pet her. Treating her like a pleasant presence upon his lap, rather than the usual way he behaved; as if she were some pest to be gotten rid of.
“I’ll have it all Sunday anyhow,” he said in a low growl of a voice, and as feral as that sounded it was hard not to hear it as him taking pleasure in her captive position.
“That’s not fair,” she said, and she could hear the whine to her tone, but she didn’t care. She was confused, and stuck, and there was nothing she could do about either of those things. She looked up at him with her wide, blue eyes, hoping that’d move him to pity.
* * *
Zach
There was no saying what did it, the wine, the position, that look in her eyes… hell, that had to be at least part of it. But whatever it was, it all coalesced to make him say something he shouldn’t have.
With a slow lick of his full lips, he stared down at her, meeting that blue gaze straight on.
“Maybe you should do somethin’ for me then,” he said in a gravelly, masculine voice, though as brazen as it was, he had no idea how he’d follow that up. He was running on pure, barely filtered desire thanks to the wine lowering his inhibitions.
And the mental image of her writhing on top of her bed...
She looked at him, cocking her head slightly. She looked so innocent as she tried to piece together what he meant.
Her brows knit in the center, and she finally opened her pouty lips to speak. It was like time was standing still between them, and his heart was racing, his cock throbbing as he waited what she was going to say.
“Like what?”
Simple enough question, but a lot harder to answer.
“I dunno,” he said, and using his raw strength he tore the remote from her grasp entirely to hold it out of her reach. He looked so nonchalant about it all, so casual as he held her there. “Maybe you should just be my lil’ pet slave for a while,” he offered, not even looking at her. “Since you can’t think of anything.”
She squirmed again, clearly hoping that his hold would’ve loosened with his motions, but instead he kept her pinned with more strength as he let the remote clatter to the floor.
Her eyes widened, hand going to the armrest to hold herself up, but it was so precarious, and her loose fitted t-shirt was slipping down further the mor
e she squirmed. Just a couple more seconds and he might be able to get a glimpse of those sweet treats she’d always kept hidden. He could already tell she wasn’t wearing a bra with how her nipples poked out just slightly.
“I already do, like, all of the housework, you lazy jackass,” she said, but Zach swore there was a little bit of a growl to her words. Something more primal than her usual princess-like tone.
“Not chores,” he growled back in return, the two of those hormone-fueled teens like animals. “We’ve got the place to ourselves for a while, so we could get more creative than just some dumb ass chores, don’t you think, sis?”
He was all teeth as he grinned down at her, holding her captive atop his throbbing manhood.
He could see the gears churning behind her eyes. She had to feel his stiffy. It was pressed right against her lower belly, and he was a big guy. Tall and broad, with a cock to match. She’d had to have felt it throbbing, for minutes now, but she hadn’t said a peep about it.
She just kept squirming against it.
He stared at her, his features feral, wondering what she’d do next.
* * *
Sylvia
Oh God, she thought, and she couldn’t help it. She tried once more, in vain, to squirm away from him.
She’d never thought of her brother like that before. He’d always just been a jerk to her. But now he was staring down at her like he’d just issued her a dare and refusal wasn’t an option. But what did he mean, more creative?
And why did he just keep getting harder?
Her mind was spinning, but there was something so much worse. Her body hadn’t ever been exposed to such primal temptation before. Never had she ground against a guy’s cock like she was doing then, and she could feel that dull throbbing between her legs.
Whether she liked it or not, her body was definitely in the former camp.
Gross! She squirmed again, but it didn’t matter to her body just how wrong it was. Part of her wanted it. Him. His cock, thrusting in and out of her, taking her virginity right there on the couch. Giving her a taste of what it felt like.
Her breathing was shallow and she tried to squirm again, getting her foot free from the sofa. She tried to shift upwards, and though she succeeded in moving further up his body, freeing herself a little, she lost her grip on the armrest, and her chest fell right against his face.
Worse than that, though, was that now she could feel his cock pulsing against her pubic bone, her needy cunny wanting it more than anything.
The remote was discarded and long forgotten, so when she fell against his face like that, propped up on his lap, he brought both of those thick, bulging arms about her. Those muscled forearms of his pressed into her lower back as he kept her hostage there.
He didn’t rush to move, he kept her there in his grasp, and she swore she could feel him throbbing in tune with the way his hands felt her back, and dared inappropriately close to cupping her butt. It was far more intimate a position than brother and sister should share.
Though most curious of all, was the way her brother seemed to linger there, face pressed to her petite chest. He’d done nothing but put her small size down, and make her feel self-conscious for it, yet there he was… seeming to revel in the feel of her bosom. It made her head spin with the thought! Had all those years of merciless teasing been a lie? A cover-up for how he’d actually felt about her? Her appearance?
When at last he moved his face, it seemed to be a combination of rubbing against her chest and repositioning for him to talk. A convenient excuse, nonetheless.
“I guess this is a yes,” he said with such a devilish glint in his eyes as he grinned, keeping her under his control.
It hadn’t even occurred to her she hadn’t protested. Why hadn’t she protested?
Because it feels good, she thought, and instantly she flushed with anger and embarrassment.
He couldn’t feel good. He was her brother!
She moved her hands to either side of his head, pushing her chest off him, though that quickly backfired. Firstly, it just pushed her loins closer to his, and he was throbbing so hard it almost felt like a vibrator teasing her. It was so close, yet so far away.
And secondly, her shirt was too loose, and at that angle, the V-neck dipped away from her ribs, exposing her bra-less chest to him. Her nipples were already so hard, not as though she could help that. She was so sensitive, and all the friction, the feeling of his cheek lightly brushing them was enough to get them stiff and aching for attention.
He stared.
Openly stared at her breasts. Those pink, stiff nipples crowning her petite mounds, the same ones he’d shamed her for. Those very same tits held his gaze captive, and it wasn’t just shock. She could see that immediately.
Sylvia was old enough to know the gaze of lusty men, and her brother’s was as lusty as they came.
She moved to cover herself, but before she could, his hands snapped into action. Those thick mitts of his grasped her wrists, held them tightly away from her body.
“You’re my pet now, sis,” he said with a mix of casual indifference and a bestial growl that edged in to overpower his attempt at playing it cool. “You gotta ask permission for every lil’ thing. That’s how this works, y’know?”
And though he forced his eyes to hers, she would’ve been a fool to miss the way his gaze flickered back to her chest despite himself.
There was a pit in her stomach, nerves coiled in her body.
But worse than all that was the way his stare, his words, made her breathing shallower, and she wanted to grind against him so bad. To just feel the shaft of his cock rub against her clit and still that incessant throbbing.
She resisted, but it was only a matter of time before she’d have to find some release. Her legs went between his, those slender stalks so much smaller than his bulky muscle, and squeezed her thighs together as if that’d help.
Her brother was displeased with that, it was clear, but he forced her two arms behind her back, pinned them there above her taut rear, those hard fingers of his left hand digging into her cheeks as he kept her locked in place with just the one muscular grasp.
“Y’know, you’re kinda pretty when your mouths shut and you’re obeying,” he said, but the lie was obvious now. He thought she was pretty regardless. Maybe it was the wine that was responsible for letting that fact slip, but whatever it was, it was out there now.
She didn’t know what to say, but she wanted to protest. To tell him off, that he was being a jerk and a creep.
But she knew he could see it in her face, what he was doing to her. It had to be as plain as anything. Even if she was to argue now, she felt exposed, and raw. He’d stared at her naked chest!
She squirmed again, her knees digging into the sofa, but instead of doing the thing that might free her, instead she pushed her ass into the air, into his hand.
It was wrong, and it was subtle, but her mind was hazed over by carnal desires.
He reached up with that free hand of his, and for a moment she thought he might grab her breast brazenly! Though instead, he touched his hard fingers to her collarbone, skirted the line between decency and depravity with his own sister, feeling her smooth, pale skin as he traced beneath her neck, and on up.
Zach didn’t choke her, nor even squeeze her throat, but his fingers for a moment formed a ring about her neck and that had such an odd effect upon her.
“We’ve got a lot of days ahead yet before mom and dad come home,” he said, licking his lips once more, eying her in ways she’d never thought he might. “So do you wanna be a good girl and do as you’re commanded?” he asked, brow raised at her.
More shocking than the sexual undertones of what her brother was doing, perhaps, was how much of a thrill he clearly got from controlling her. From being in charge of her, completely. There’d be no easy way to back off from this, she realized.
She’d stayed too long, trapped against his hardon and his strong hand.
How could t
hey go back from this? How would she look at him from across the dining room table, eating a meal and knowing the feel of his cock throbbing against her?
“Zach, I gotta go,” she said, and she tried to squirm again, but he held her close, his other hand going up into her hair, cupping her face as he sneered.
Her attempt to wriggle away and change the subject met with his intense dissatisfaction. He tightened his grasp upon her, and her slender form could not wriggle free from that iron grasp as it threatened to bruise her wrists.
“That’s not the right answer, sis,” he said, the words growled out so commandingly. Though more shocking than the way he so aggressively took control, was how he began to grope at her ass.
“Maybe you should try again,” he said rough and low.
He had to let her wrists go in order to grab her ass, fingers kneading into her. It shocked her into stillness, though, and his other hand worked its way up to her ponytail. His fingers dug into her hair, freeing the elastic band and letting her blonde hair fall along her cheekbones, tickling at her collar.
She stayed like that, stunned, for several seconds before she shimmied back, away from his hard grip. Luckily she was still a gymnast, and though she might not have brute strength, she had some finesse, especially with him distracted as he was.
* * *
Zach
Alcohol had clouded Zach’s mind, let him get more brazen than he should’ve ever dared. Though the view of her pretty face and lovely tits before him, the feel of her body grinding against his fresh in his mind, he was pushed over a precipice. With her lithe form and his focus upon touching her flesh, Sylvia managed to squirm free of his grasp, and panic set in suddenly.
A flood of emotions really. Panic at having let her out of his grasp while his need for her was still so strong. Some sliver of realization that he’d gone too far already and now she was going to end it all and maybe even get him in trouble.
