From the Heart

"Hunter," she said from his shoulder, "I didn't mind."

"Amy—," he said.

But Amy shook her head. She guided him back toward her, rose onto her tip-toes, and kissed him. This time it was more than comfort. It was like seeing stars, a cascade of sparkling lights behind his eyes. "I...the opposite of mind," she said, her voice low.

Looking into her vivid green eyes in that moment felt like falling into a peridot sky. Like losing himself and not caring if he ever came back. He enfolded her in his arms, kissing her with the slow-building intensity of his every unspoken yearning, and she returned the kiss. Warmth spread through his body, tingling in his fingertips as he sculpted his hands around her curves, exploring every inch of her that he'd already memorized. He barely registered his own impulse to draw her sweater over her head, and yet over her head it came, with Amy's help. His hands felt slower than he was used to, woefully un-fluid and inefficient. He wanted to caress every inch of her, to trace the entire shape of her. His hands seemed determined to return to the same places, lips, her bottom, her breasts...for there they were, the pert nipples peaking through the delicate rose colored lace of her bra.

As he removed this too, a part of his brain tried to warn him, to remind him that it was sister, his Amy, and he'd worked so hard to hide this from her, to protect her. But the rest of him wasn't listening. It was too focused on the chance to touch her, all of her, and to show her how wonderful it could feel to be touched with care.

It was the most gorgeous contradiction: the way her body was utterly familiar and new all at once. Hunter knew that what he was doing was forbidden in every possible sense, but it felt...pure, somehow, spiritual. He worshiped at the altar of her body with his tongue and his lips, kissing her ears, her neck, her deep rose colored nipples.

When he lifted her skirt, Amy simply unbuttoned it and tossed it aside as well, but Hunter kept the task of her underwear for himself. They were lace, like her now discarded bra, but black. Not quite matching, yet still perfect. He drew them down her legs, revealing her hips, and the glistening pink lips nestled in a small patch of light brown curls.

He kissed her there, tasting soft, damp skin. She arched beneath him, cat-like and uninhibited. His tastebuds thrilled. She was delicious, fresh as honeydew, and when he lapped his tongue along the folds of her cunt, it was only the pleasure of doing so that he considered.

But she was gasping, and moaning in ways that sent his arousal into overdrive. His instincts were screaming at him to ram himself inside of her right then and there, but he wanted to be better. He would be better.

In his heart, he wanted nothing more than to show Amy that she was desirable. When he pressed his tongue into her, he paid attention to her every flex and moan in response. The dampness of her arousal swept through his senses.

"Hunter—," she gasped, "God!" She pressed her hand over her own mouth to keep from crying out. He'd found her clit. His tongue pressed the tiny, elusive nub of flesh, and he began to build a rhythm as he explored the succulent skin inside of her.

"Mmm! Mmm! Mmmm!" Amy was wiggling beneath him, frantic with pleasure. He held her firmly by the hips, and continued to circle her clit. Her juices were gushing into his mouth now, and he savored every drop even as he focused on her. The more delirious her reaction, the more readily he exploited the spot that incited it. All he wanted was more. More of her taste, more of her scent, more of her sweet moans dancing in the air above his head.

"I want to try something," he said, lifting his head to look up at her, "Do you trust me?"

Amy nodded, quivering with arousal, but unhesitant. Her fingertips grazed his cheek, the touch like petals against his skin. "Always," she said.

Always.

He lowered his mouth back to her pussy, to find the nub and work his tongue against the sensitive flesh. As he felt the little muscles tighten and spasm with new vigor, nearing orgasm, the hand cupping her bottom moved, finding the tiny hole he was looking for. Amy's eyes widened at the sensation, startled, but they never lost their absolute trust. Gently, so gently, he inserted the tip of his index finger just as her body rose on the crest of climax.

Amy's reaction was fierce. She arched her back and cried out into her hand, desperately muting the scream of passion even as he other hand seized his hair. The nectar of her orgasm swept over his tongue, a gushing onslaught of sweetness.

Hunter couldn't take anymore. He felt like he might explode. He turned, and drew his cock into his hands, hiding it from her and pumping it in his hand. But once again, he felt her behind him, and her breath against his ear. "Let me," she said, her voice soft and husky in a way he'd never heard before. Amy came around in front of him, and imitated his motions, massaging his length with both of her small, warm hands.

She lowered her face to his cock, and—her eyes still looking into his—licked the head experimentally.

Hunter trembled everywhere, his cock especially. He was sure for a moment that he would shoot off into her face, and he instinctively went to protect her eyes with his hand, but he regained control of himself before he needed to.

Amy seemed to take her inspiration from that, and she began to lick the length of his cock. It was a kind of arduous delight, a slow build for the already burning flame of his need. When she put her lips around his head, still gently pumping his phallus with her hands, he felt near to losing control again.

"Wait," he said, his voice hoarse, "Wait."

He lifted her to her feet and then moved back onto her bed, drawing her on top of him so that her legs straddled his. Her pussy brushed the tip of his cock, and he shivered, barely keeping control. "If we're going to do this, I want you to see—feel—how good it can be."

She nodded, her lids heavy with freshly kindled desire.

She eased onto his cock, letting out a soft, shuddering whimper as she felt their bodies settle into place as though they were designed to fit together. Her eyes rolled back in her head upon appreciating how deeply he had filled her, but when he lowered his back onto the bed, and began to move his hips, she refocused to guide herself into rhythm with him.

"Oh, god," she murmured breathlessly, and arched her back, tossing her hair behind her. "It's like--Oh, god."

Amy found herself moving naturally with his every thrust, riding him as gracefully as a sea-bird riding a tidal wind. When at last she came again, her rhythm was interrupted by the little spasms in her every muscle. Hunter felt them, felt her rise on the current of her orgasm, and he knew he couldn't hold out beyond that point.

"Amy," Hunter said in sudden alarm, "You need to get off. I'm going to—."

"It's okay. It's okay, Hunter. I'm protected...you can come inside me." She looked down at him, her expression tender, utterly loving. "Please."

And with that, the last bit of Hunter's restraint gave way. He felt his cum finally explode from him and coat the walls of his sister's cunt, even as her orgasm rippled around him, along the skin of his cock and in the way her little hand squeezed his.

Amy dropped onto his chest, and they lay together, panting, for what felt like hours. His entire body was subsumed with satisfaction. Her hair spread across his chest in glossy waves, and he played with the locks pensively before he found the words for what he wanted to ask.

"Amy?" he said.

She murmured drowsily.

"Was that more like what you hoped for?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, without hesitation, and lifted her eyes to look into his eyes. "I never thought—It never occurred to me that we might ever dare, but it was...It was everything. It was perfect. Even—When you touched my...," she paused, her face flushing. Hunter felt a familiar tightness in his chest, but this time recognized it for what it was, an aching, self-crushing love for her. "My bottom," she said, "It was..."

His eyes searched her face, and then he reached up to touch her cheek. "Good?" he asked, his mouth dry.

Her flush deepened, "Yeah," she said, her voice sweetly breathless with a strange, sudden shyness. "Could you...Could we do it again?"

Hunter's heart stuttered.

That was when he heard a knock at the bedroom door, and someone turning the knob.

Hunter reared up, panic searing away his better judgement, but Amy rose with him and put her fingertips to her lips.

"Amy?" their mother's voice said, when the door proved to be locked.

Hunter could see the plan whirl into shape behind his sister's green eyes.

"I'm not feeling very well, Mom," she said, making her voice sound a little raspy. "A little nauseated. I've been in and out of the bathroom since I came up."

Another mother might have insisted on coming in, on holding her daughter's hair herself or placing a cool cloth on her neck. Not Marilyn Daniels.

"Well, we only have an hour and a half until the evening service. You'll need to take some Bismuth now to get through it and make sure your hair doesn't look frizzy."

A string of sharp responses rose in Hunter's mind. Amy can't take Bismuth, Mom, it makes it worse when she's nauseated. Her hair never looks frizzy and even if it does, who cares?

He kept his mouth closed and counted to three.

"Okay, Mom," said Amy. She didn't seem to share his annoyance. Indeed, her eyes were glinting at him mischievously, and Hunter saw in her gaze what she intended to do a moment before she did it. She brought her fingers back to his cock, tracing the skin with teasing sweetness. Hunter inhaled sharply, repressing a gasp at the fresh flood of sensation that filled his body. His cock swelled beneath her caress, throbbing hopefully.

"And you should wear the green dress," their mother added through the door. "It brings out your eyes...and remember that Trey will be there."

Hunter shot an irritated glance toward the door.

"Okay, Mom." Amy said, still teasing his cock with an adorably impish expression.

Hunter repressed a groan. It was torment, excruciating and wonderful. He settled for promising revenge with his eyes, smiling even while he shook his head at her. It felt like a game, just like any other they'd played. But beneath his anxiety, Hunter realized that something strange and marvelous now filled his being: a sense of delirious relief and peace.

There was a quiet shuffling and a pause, and he sensed his mother's hesitation on the other side of the door, as only the very astute and very familiar can. He knew she felt a suspicion so vague and unthinkable that she couldn't properly identify it.

He waited, not sure why he was holding his breath or keeping so still, until he heard her walk away, her slippers soft on the carpeted floor.

He let out a breath at last.

Amy was grinning again, looking perfectly calm and amused.

"You brat," he whispered, pushing her down onto the bed. She giggled, covering her mouth, and Hunter kissed her neck, tickling out more laughter against his ear.

But then he drew back, because he could feel her smile fade, and worry cloud her eyes. "Hunter," she said, her brow drawn and her eyes every bit as full of concern as he knew they would be. "What are we going to do?" she said.

He looked down at her, his eyes solemn in turn. "I don't know," he said, and kissed her forehead softly, "But I know that I'll always be there for you. In whatever way you want me." He told her with his eyes that he meant it.That he would follow her lead, and forget any hope of ever touching her again if that was what she wanted. He would go back to being her doting brother and nothing else for rest of his life.

"Always, okay?"

A lifetime could have passed in the next moment, and Hunter wouldn't have minded. He was content to stay there, holding Amy and gazing into the green depths of her eyes for as long as she would let him.

"Okay," she said at last, and brought his mouth to hers. "Always."

~ * ~

Authors note: My warmest thanks to HarbingerSovereign and Truehearts for their work editing this story.