Immaculate Inception Pt. 02 - Closer

"Nope, couldn't make it for your housewarming, remember?" I took off my coat and looked around the hallway, glancing up at a set of stairs that ran off to one side. A mirror hung in the hallway framed by various photos of my sister and Alex and extended family. I was surprised to see myself, framed in ebony black, hanging among them.

"Ah, that's right. Here, shall I take that?" He pointed to my coat. I nodded and handed it to him. "You can plonk your bag there for now," he tilted his head identifying a spot near the stairs as he hung the coat on a hook.

"Cheers. I must say, Alex, it's really very, good of you to put me up like this."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," he smiled at me, adjusting his glasses, "you are the brother of the woman I love, after all. Come on through, Em's cooking up a storm in your honour."

I followed Alex through the hall and turned left into a bright, modern-fitted kitchen. Em looked up from the concoction she was stirring a beaming smile on her face.

"There he is!" She dusted off her hands as she approached, pecked me on the cheek, then hugged me warmly.

"Hi, Em," I said, releasing her. "Thanks for this."

"Hmm?" She looked confused for a second then understood, dismissing my gratitude with a wave of her hand, "oh, for putting you up? Don't be silly. What is a big sister for if she can't help out her brother when he's in need?"

I sampled the tantalizing air. "Smells delicious."

"Oh, it's just a spagbol."

"I'll take it."

She smiled then looked over at Alex, "Can you open the bottle of red, darling? Give it some time to breathe."

Alex's phone beeped. He glanced at it, then opened the bottle.

She nodded at the stools by a breakfast bar, "get comfy. Won't be long."

The house was open plan, designed so the kitchen, dining area and lounge was a large, L-shaped living space. Eventually, we moved to the dining area and sat at the table. My sister doled out some spaghetti and handed me the plate, "help yourself to Bolognese. Parmesan's there."

"Em tells me you're working shifts, Alex. How are you finding that?" I asked, chewing garlic bread.

He shrugged, as he ladled out Bolognese, "well, It is what it is. I don't mind it so much, it does mean I get an extra hour or two in bed in the morning," he smiled.

I waved my fork at him, "now, that can't be bad."

He looked across at my sister, took a sip of wine and pinched at his goatee. "I've had a text from Tom at work. He's teeing me up for a trip to India." The words seemed to hang in the air.

My sister stilled her fork which had been twirling spaghetti looking at Alex. "When?" a pained expression on her face.

"Not sure but they normally turn things around in a week. Admin are going to sort out travel arrangements on Monday."

"Oh, darling. What an absolute pain."

He sighed. "I know, believe me, I've tried everything to get out of going but they're not happy with the progress on a key part of the project. They want me to go over and crack the whip."

"How long?"

"I'm not sure, they're bandying around 4 weeks, but it depends." He smiled, trying to reassure her, "I'm hoping I can be in and out far quicker than that though."

The Saturday night before Alex's departure was hot, the atmosphere close, causing me to toss and turn, trying to sleep. The day had been uncharacteristically hot by English Summer standards. All day the ground had soaked up the sun and now the stored heat was being released into the sultry night air like some vast radiator.

To make matters worse, even though it was late, it was almost a full moon, so the light was relatively bright outside making it even harder to drift off. I looked across at the window the pattern of the curtains clearly visible in silhouette.

I was contemplating whether to give up on the pretence of sleep, grab my phone, and jump onto the Internet when I thought I heard a noise. It had been so faint and registered so briefly that now, in the silence, I wondered if it had ever existed at all. What I thought I'd heard was a quiet sigh.

Nothing. Silence.

I dismissed it and went for my phone then stopped hand frozen in mid-air.

There!

A palpable sigh only this time slightly higher in tone accompanied by a faint creaking. Oh my God, were they....?

The creaking began to puncture the silence with more frequency, and I heard a quiet, female, intake of breath.

I was listening so intently that I could hear the blood pulsing in my temple. As though it had a mind of its own, my hand had come to rest on my thigh.

Three staccato creaks made their way from across the hall to my highly receptive ears, the final one sharper and louder.

An unmistakable, most sisterly moan.

My fingers probed under the waistband of my boxers curling around my fully engorged manhood. I could feel my heart begin to thud, the eroticism of the moment fueling arousal.

The sporadic creaking became more rhythmical.

"Ah!" the feminine sound escaped as an exclamation of breath, accompanied by a far louder, male grunt.

"Ssssh," so gentle as to be almost imperceptible, followed by furtive whispering.

After a pause, the creaking resumed. They were careful at first, but soon any control gave way to desire.

I slipped the elastic of my boxers, freeing myself.

If the sounds they were making represented the canvas, then the painting was created through pure imagination. I pictured Alex as he moved on top of my sister with increased pace and urgency, she, lying on her back, knees pointing at the ceiling, circumscribing it, thighs spread wide, open and vulnerable.

I pictured her face, eyes smoky with anticipation, yet focused, concentrating on the myriad feelings blossoming within. I saw her lips, and heard the breathy moans urgently seeking an escape from them.

I matched my movement to theirs, synchronized in sound, then, as though transported, imagined it was me moving atop and within my sister, kneading and squeezing her breasts, planting kisses on her lips and neck as I made love to her.

My hand worked more quickly on my shaft as the pace of their coupling increased, my heart thudding to my sister's moans now freely escaping as all inclination toward control was lost.

There was a series of louder creaks, followed by a final, heavier one that provoked a stifled cry from my sister and then silence before a shifting of weight.

I came, my legs jerking as I pulsed.

I tried to catch the eruption as best I could to stop my seed from soiling the sheets but to no avail. I found a sock and cleaned up as quietly and as best I could.

The following morning, I returned from the shower, towel tucked around my waist, and jumped when I found my sister in my room.

She laughed, "did I make you jump? Sorry, um, for the intrusion." Her eyes wandered over my body, then she seemed to catch herself and looked away, "I'm doing a wash, might as well do yours at the same time."

"That's OK, Em, no need."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all." She nodded to the chair in the corner that contained a fresh sheet and pillowcases, "look, nice and fresh."

Before I could protest further, she had moved to my bed. I watched, mortified, as she peeled back the duvet to get at the sheet underneath. The wet staining was clearly visible, betrayed by its deeper shade of blue. Just for a moment, she hesitated, then quickly attacked the fitted corners. Once freed, she carefully scrunched it up. The dampness had permeated through to the mattress, a visible, guilty testimony to what had happened the night before.

"Well, there you go.," she said, moving to the door and without looking round, added, "I'm making some breakfast. Eggs good?"

"Sounds great," was all I could say as I watched her disappear. I sat on the bed, head in my hands, embarrassed beyond words.

I replaced the sheet then got dressed and having gathered my thoughts descended the stairs to the sound of frying eggs and the smell of fresh coffee. My sister was at the cooker. I was relieved to see she was smiling as I walked into the kitchen.

She pointed at the breakfast bar with a spatula. "There's orange juice there. Coffee's coming. Help yourself to toast."

I took up a knife and began to butter a slice, "this is great, thanks, Em."

"Did you sleep well last night?" the innocent question felt loaded with implication.

I looked up at her, knife paused, fixing a smile. "Yeah, great, thanks."

She seemed relieved. "Good. I only ask because it was so warm last night."

By way of an answer, I crunched into the toast, "mmmm."

"Here you go." She came over with the frying pan using the spatula to place a couple of eggs on my plate.

"Thanks. What have you got on at school today?" I asked, changing the subject.

She shrugged, "oh, the usual mix of classes and some prep. for the upcoming OFSTED inspection. As you can imagine, we're keen to show our best side." She poured some coffee for me.

"Ta. I bet. Bet you welcome an inspection like a hole in the head."

She nodded, "well, they're routine, if the school's doing fine, they only come around every four years or so. Still, it's a distraction I could do without right now."

She sat down opposite me and took a sip of coffee. "You?"

I looked up. "Hmm? Oh, pretty much the same, nothing too exciting, I'm drawing up some conceptual designs for a range of furniture at the moment."

We continued to chat as I polished off the eggs, eventually, I glanced at my watch and took one last swig of coffee.

"Hey, sorry to rush, but I'm going to have to get off. Thanks for breakfast." I stood up, straightening my jacket and tie.

She looked at me with approval, "I must say, you do scrub up well."

"One tries ones best," I smiled, then walked round the breakfast bar and gave her a peck on the cheek. "See you later."

She looked at me and laughed, clarifying when she saw my confusion, "anyone would think we were a married couple."

"Yeah, sure," I drew her into me and blew a raspberry on her cheek, which made her shriek, "bye honey."

I could still hear her chuckling as I made my way out, walking past my photo on the wall.