tagIncest/TabooBlessed Ch. 08

Blessed Ch. 08

bydellagordo©

This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, and the actions contained herein should not be duplicated. All characters are 18 or older. It's all pretend, folks. This one even more than usual.

*****

A soft rain pitter-patters against the windows as Grace stirs from a troubled sleep. She climbs out of bed, head as cloudy as the sky, and walks across the room to the patio doors. Opening them, she steps out on to the balcony.

The rain, more of a mist really, dampens her hair and face, makes her feet cold. The air smells clean and damp and she takes deep breaths, admiring the rolling hills around the mansion once more. If nothing else, she has enjoyed visiting the island of her birth and staying at the house in which she grew up. Kaido is a beautiful place, all the more so because the land is carefully tended by Grace's Blessed mother.

With a sigh, Grace steps back inside. She leaves the doors open, enjoying the cool morning breeze.

Today, the quietness of her own room feels stifling. With an urgency born of loneliness, she breaks from her usual routine and pens letters to Rik and the children immediately. She can't quite bring herself to apologize to her husband or say that he was right, but she comes very close to doing so. To Rory and Medbh she is much more frank. She misses them deeply, and wishes she could see them again soon. Grace still isn't sure how she will explain a pregnancy to her children, but in her current fatalistic mood, she is not certain she will have to.

She stuffs the letters into envelopes and rises from her desk, hurrying into the bathing room to begin her morning ablutions. Grace takes her time, enjoying the warmth of the water and the way her soapy cloth glides across her smooth skin.

When she steps back into her room, the letters are gone, the bed is made, and a small breakfast has been left for her in the main chamber of the suite. Grace dresses quickly, pulling on a sleeveless high-necked red dress with an embroidered bodice and a loose skirt. She ties the long dark waves of her hair back with a red ribbon and applies make-up while stealing small bites of pastry and sips of chilled orange juice.

As she is trying to decide whether to go with low heels or flats for the day, she hears a knock at her door. Grace looks up, uncertain at first that she heard anything. Servants don't usually knock, they just enter unobtrusively and carry out their business. This must be a family member.

Grace sighs. This is much too early to have to deal with Belle. On the other hand, perhaps it is Fiona, checking in before the day begins.

On bare feet, Grace approaches the door. She unlocks it and sweeps it open, and the greeting she prepared dies on her full lips.

Kit stands framed in the doorway. His broad shoulders stretch a white shirt, unbuttoned at the throat and tucked into a pair of tight blue pants that emphasize the powerful muscles of his legs and, presumably, his backside. His sword hangs off his left hip, one hand casually laid against the pommel, and he is incongruously wearing slippers. Kit's dark hair flops across his brow, and he pushes it back with a practiced gesture, smiling nervously.

"Good morning, Grace," he says. She can't help how her knees tremble at the timbre of his voice.

"Good morning, Kit," she replies, finding her voice. "What can I do for you?" She wants to drag him into her suite and rip all of his clothes off. But she is also very upset with him.

Kit's smile slips. He looks uncertain, less the dashing Imperial captain and more the teenaged boy that he is. His cheeks darken slightly, which makes him look all the cuter. "I'd hoped... that is... may I come in?"

Grace pauses, looking at him. Anger and jealousy and resentment bubble up inside her. She has half a mind to slam the door in his face and send him on his way. But that would hardly solve the problem. Would, in fact, exacerbate it. He is here, now, and isn't that all she wanted anyway?

Grace steps back from the doorway and gestures for him to step through. "Of course," she says. "Please do."

*

She is gorgeous. Kit finds it hard to concentrate. He is realizing now how much of a crush he had on his sister previously, and the fact that he can now do something about that crush leaves him almost breathless with a combination of hope and anxiety.

She greets him in a red dress, not unlike the one she wore when he first arrived. Loose skirt beneath a cinched in waist that emphasizes her hourglass curves, and an embroidered bodice that can barely contain her enormous breasts. Her arms are bare, showing clean musculature and flawless complexion, while her thick dark curls are tied back from her face with a simple red ribbon. Lightly applied make-up cannot hide the freckles that dust her nose and cheeks, but does emphasize the pools of her dark eyes.

Kit steps past her into her apartment, sumptuously appointed with a variety of amenities. He sees her breakfast, half-eaten, on a table, and almost feels bad for interrupting. But he has waited long enough, been delayed long enough.

There is a soft click as Grace closes the door. She crosses her arms under her breasts and strides into the middle of the room, hovering near a divan but not yet ready to sit.

Kit stands a few feet away, feeling strangely awkward. His hands hang limply at his sides. He wants to embrace her, but something about her posture and expression suggest that it would be unwise to try just yet.

"I wanted to see you," he says hesitatingly.

"Did you?" Grace says, a note of incredulity in her voice. "Is Gabrielle otherwise engaged?"

Kit cannot suppress a sigh. "I wanted to see you," he says again, "to apologize."

Grace cocks her head, listening, but her body does not relax.

"I shouldn't have gone off for lunch with Gabby. I wanted to spend the day with you. If Punting hadn't happened, I would have come back to find you in any case. But it did happen. And, I would have preferred to talk to you in person when I returned."

"Then why didn't you?" Grace asks. "I was very... I was very worried about you."

"You were?" Somehow, that makes Kit feel suddenly better. Grace makes a face, though, as if she has given too much away. Kit straightens. "I wanted to, but in all honesty, I was exhausted. Not so much from the battle as from the healing of the villagers afterward. I basically collapsed as soon as Mother brought us back to the manse. By the time I recovered, it was late, and I was... occupied."

Grace nods. "Well, thank you for the apology. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready to assist Mother today."

"She said you could take the rest of the day off," Kit says. "If you'd like."

"Did she?" Grace's eyes narrow. "Did she send you here?"

"No," Kit says. "Of course not. She gave me directions. I don't know my way around the palace as well as I should, but she did not send me." He is beginning to get irritated. Was the dance the other night a fiction? Was she not flirting with him? Perhaps she doesn't feel the same about him as he does about her.

And then something occurs to him. He came empty handed. In such a rush to see her again, he has arrived with no gift or sweet with which to soften her temper. Kit casts his eyes around the suite as Grace eyes him dubiously.

"Are you attached to those candle holders?" he asks, pointing to two golden candlesticks on a table. Grace shakes her head, confused. Kit crosses the room and takes the candlesticks up in his hands. He summons power and speaks a few words, low and rhythmic, and the gold begins to soften and flow together in his hands. He pushes the candlesticks together, shaping them with his mind and will, watching them meld together into something else. Stems grow, buds appear, and petals blossom. In moments, Kit holds a bouquet of golden flowers in his hands.

He turns to Grace and extends his hand. "Lilies," she says, taking them from him. "You remembered."

Someone else might have given her roses, but Kit knows his sister's favorite flower.

"They are beautiful," she says. "They look exactly like real flowers, down to the tiniest detail. I've never seen anyone do that before."

Shaping matter is not a common talent among the Blessed, but it is one of the earliest that Kit mastered. "You like them?"

"I do, Kit. Thank you." She looks at him. Some of the tension has gone out of her, but not all. "Why did you pick Gabrielle, Kit?"

He frowns. "I didn't... she was waiting for me in my room yesterday morning. I just wanted to get cleaned up and rest a little, but things escalated quickly, and before I knew it, we were heading out to lunch." He takes a deep breath. "I am sorry, Grace. I would rather have spent the day with you.

"I hope we can spend today together."

Grace turns from him to remove living flowers from a vase and sets the golden flowers inside it. "I don't know, Kit. I want that, too, but some part of me is still upset." Her back still too him, she bows her head.

Kit takes two steps towards her when she suddenly stiffens and raises her head. "No," she says. Kit stops, thinking she is referring to him. "No," she says again. "I will not do this. I am 43 years old and a daughter of House Daramour. I am not some heartsick teenager." She turns and regards Kit, her full lips set in a grim line, her eyes hard and focused.

"You are my brother. I am a married woman, and already a mother. But I will allow neither my own foolish feelings nor my husband's cruel words to dissuade me. We have a duty, and we will abide by it."

Kit is taken aback. Grace is so stern and cold, so unlike her. And what does she mean by her "husband's cruel words"? Kit always sort of liked Rik, but they very idea of someone being cruel to Grace fills him with anger. He forces that aside for the moment, knowing that he must focus on the here and now and be present for her. Something must be done.

"It is not just a duty for me," Kit says, frowning. "You are indeed my sister, Grace, but you are something more than that to me. You and I have always had a connection. A bond. There is something between us, and I do not believe - or maybe I fervently hope - that it is not merely in my own mind. Do you feel it too?"

Grace's smooth mask falters. She blinks, one hand lifts from her hip in Kit's direction, her fingers fluttering. She looks away from Kit, towards the tall windows, the dark clouds outside, and the rain pattering against the glass.

Kit crosses the small space between them in a few quick steps. Grace turns her head with a look of surprise as Kit grabs her waist with both hands and pulls her lush body to him, all but crushing her against the hard planes of his muscular body. He lowers his head, his lips seeking hers, and presses against them, firm and insistent. She tastes of strawberries and cream and promises.

Her lips part as her dark eyes close and her body relaxes into him. He extends his tongue hesitantly, but she welcomes the intruder with a curl of her own dexterous pink muscle, and he devours her. Her arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, holding him just as tightly as Kit holds her.

"Yes," she says breathlessly, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright, when they briefly part. "There is a bond." Then she is kissing him again, more insistently, more fiercely, more passionately. The blood thunders in Kit's veins. He hears his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. Grace's rings like a countersong, just as fast, just as eager.

He feels his pants constrict as he begins to grow tumescent. His hands roam across her maternal curves, enjoying the plump springiness of her ass and the insistent plushness of her breasts.

Grace puts her hands on his chest and pushes him backward. Kit's feet shuffle until his knees hit the edge of a divan. He sits down hard. Grace grips his shirt, pulling it open as he drops. Buttons fly across the room. She traces a single finger across the divide between his pectoral muscles and Kit feels a kind of electric charge. His cock reaches full mast immediately.

Kit looks up, past the thrust of her bosom, into her face. She is flushed and breathing heavy, eyes bright, full lips twisted into a wanton smile. Her dark curls are wild, the ribbon torn loose and dropped to the floor at some indeterminate point.

Grace lifts the skirt of her dress, giving her brother just a glimpse of her thick, powerful thighs, and skims her panties down her legs. She kicks them free and sets to unbuckling Kit's belt. His sword clatters to the ground as she pulls on the waistband of his trousers. He lifts his ass to facilitate her movements, bracing himself on the divan with flat hands.

His cock comes free, standing up proudly from his nest of pubic hair, thick and long. The head swollen with need, already beginning to drip with coital secretions.

Grace's eyes widen perceptibly as she takes in his size, his girth. "I need this," she whispers. Her skirt rustles as she kneels on the divan, straddling Kit. He grips her waist as she reaches beneath her dress, between them, to grasp his throbbing maleness. Kit looks into her eyes as she rubs the broad head of his cock against her soaking wet pussy lips. He cannot help groaning with his own need.

With a gasp and a shudder that causes her breasts to bob enticingly in their embroidered prison, Grace slots her little brother's big cockhead between her sodden lips. Her labia give him a little nip as their flesh comes together, squeezing precum from him. She pulls her hand free. Her skirt settles over Kit's lap, covering them both, as she puts both hands on his broad shoulders.

Slowly, her hips descend. Their eyes are locked together. "You're so big," Grace whispers, as she swallows him inch by inch. Her eyelids flutter, but her gaze never wavers. Nor does Kit look away. Despite the liquid heat kissing his cock and swallowing him, he keeps his eyes focused on Grace's.

He flexes his length, throbbing in her sheathe, and she shudders, hands gripping his shoulders tighter. Her juices drip down his exposed shaft, soaking into his pubic thatch. Kit groans, knuckles whitening as he holds Grace's waist. He is only halfway inside her, and already he feels almost ready to erupt. The sensations are so intense, so overwhelming. And the look in her eyes as she swallows him is awesome to behold.

This is different from fucking Gabby or his mother. With Gabby, the sex is fun and exciting, and his mother overwhelms with power and beauty and raw sexuality, but with Grace there is something different. Something indefinable. Something that makes Kit's heart throb as powerfully as his cock. He has always had a crush on his oldest sister, he knows, but this feels stronger. Much stronger.

He wants to grab her hips and drive himself into her core, but he steels himself and lets her control the descent. Her inner muscles quiver as his girth drives into her, heated secretions soaking into his throbbing length as he pumps precum into her depths.

Grace's full lips part. She pants heavily, breasts heaving, as she continues to lower her hips. The skirt rustles lightly, covering them both, hiding their lustful connection beneath it.

"I've waited so long for this, Kit," Grace says, her voice barely above a whisper. "How long can you last?"

"Not long," Kit admits, shuddering as another inch of his cock slides into Grace's pussy. He spent the night pumping seed into his mother's thirsty womb, he should be prepared for a good long session. But being inside Grace for the first time is simply too intense. He's on the cusp of exploding already, and still with several inches to go.

"I'm almost ready too," Grace says, biting her lower lip. "But I want you to hold on just a little longer." Her hips continue to lower, taking more of him.

Kit grimaces. He tries to think of rotes and spell formulae. He tries to ignore the lush heat of his sister's pussy, the way her inner muscles grip and caress his length as it slowly slides into her, the way her breath hitches in excitement as she swallows him. The way her breasts push against his bare chest, the embroidery of her dress feeling rough against his skin. He wants to admire her cleavage and the swell of those breasts. But he keeps his eyes focused on hers, watching them narrow and her eyelashes flutter more and more with each passing second.

His bloated cockhead nudges up against something solid, just as her dewy lips kiss his groin. He is fully inside her now, a perfect fit from stem to stern. "Now Kit," she commands, her voice rising an octave, as her pussy tightens around him and he feels her fluids gushing forth to stain his crotch, her fingers tightening like claws on his shoulders.

Kit cries out as his massive cock, buried deep inside his sister's pussy, his cockhead nestled against the very mouth of her fertile womb, begins to buck and throb. Thick, viscous ropes of sperm-laden semen explode in a shower of ecstasy, each one pumping directly into her unprotected core. As each pulse impacts against her flesh, Grace releases a soft "Oh." Her pussy lips rhythmically clamp around the base of his cock, coaxing out his precious spend, which erupts in a seemingly never ending tumult.

Through it all, Grace never breaks eye contact. Her full lips part, she blinks and shudders and climaxes herself, but she never looks away. And Kit feels as if something deep inside him as been observed, weighed, measured, and approved.

As aftershocks of intense pleasure shake Grace's lush frame, she finally collapses into Kit's arms, her lips pressing into his neck beneath his ear. She kisses him, murmuring sweet nonsense phrases and endearments. Her breasts press insistently against his chest.

Grace pulls away, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "I have never felt something so intense before," she says softly. "Never so quickly and so explosively. Oh, Kit, what have you done to me?"

Kit shakes his head. He has no words. It feels as if the speech center of his brain has been momentarily overloaded. All he can do is revel in the sensation, recovering from one of the most powerful orgasms of his young sex life. He crushes Grace to him and finds her lips, kissing her long and deeply.

"You're still hard," she realizes. Her hips shift, sliding upward, releasing a few inches of Kit's cock. "You've pumped me more full of life giving seed than any man before, and you're still ready to take me again?" She smiles, while her pussy lips nip at him and she settles her full weight on to him once more.

"Grace," Kit groans. He reaches up to fumble with the back of her dress. She laughs, a throaty, sexy laugh that echoes their mother's, and she brushes his clumsy fingers away. She deftly unsnaps the clasps and the collar shifts forward. She reaches down between them to grab the hem of her dress, bunched up at their waists, and peels it up and over her head. It falls to the floor in a crimson wave. She sits atop him now naked save for her red bra, which struggles heroically to contain her enormous breasts.

She is pale, with skin as flawless as marble or ivory, but hot to the touch. Thick thighs, thick middle, pleasantly plump in a maternal way that sets Kit's blood to boiling. His hands find the full roundness of her backside and his fingers sink into her soft flesh, causing her to shiver and her pussy lips to clamp tightly around his invading cock. Kit admires the dark line of cleavage that separates each massive tank from the other in her red bra.

"You want to see them?" Graces whispers sexily. "You want to see my big mommy tits?"

Kit nods, unable and unwilling to halt the automatic throbbing of his cock at the word "mommy." Grace's lips pull into an indulgent smile. "They get bigger with every pregnancy, you know," she says, continuing in the same breathy tone. "Each one is almost as big as my head, now. When you fill me with a baby they're going to swell up even larger."

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