Primal Atavism

'I didn't realise I was that good,' Dylan jokes from behind me.

I shoot him a sardonic look. 'Don't go getting a big head just because you got laid.'

I turn on the shower, and he cuddles me around the waist as I hold my hand under the stream, waiting for it to get warm. Such a simple gesture, yet one of the most intimate things I've ever experienced. I close my eyes, enjoying the rub of his body against mine. Even his cock, still plump and sticky against the small of my back, offers an unexpected comfort.

The temperature plateaus, and I take him by the hand and lead him in. He slides the partition closed, then wraps his arms around my waist again and draws me in for a kiss. I never imagined such a perfect aftermath—in truth, I hadn't given it much thought at all. There are no signs of regret, and though I hadn't thought it possible given our relationship, I feel closer to him now than at any point in my life.

We kiss lazily while soaping each other down, sluicing away the sweat produced in bringing each other to orgasm. But for my bum, where he can't help a cheeky squeeze, he's gentle in washing me, ushering me into a state of relaxation. I try to do the same, soothing each of his exerted muscles one by one. Ending with his now-flaccid cock, I gently clean away what remains of our carnal concoction. It grows a little under my touch, drawing a playful smile from us both.

I turn off the water, then snuggle into my bathrobe as Dylan towels himself dry. I wait outside his room while he puts on his pyjamas, then we walk back to mine, which greets us airy and fresh. I shut the window, then pick our clothes up off the floor and place them neatly over a chair in the corner. Dylan is already in the bed by the time I retrieve my pyjamas from under the pillow, and when I slip out of my robe and hang it on the hook on my door, I can feel his gaze burning into me.

I turn to catch him drinking in my naked form.

'You have an amazing body,' he says.

The seriousness in his tone makes me blush. It's the silliest thing in the world after what we've just done, but I can't help feeling a little self-conscious under the intensity of his gaze. I put on the pyjamas I've been wearing since catching him staring at my legs outside the bathroom. 'Still think so now?' I ask. They're long, loose-fitting, and about as far from sexy as one can imagine, but by the way he beckons me to the bed, they may as well be heart-stopping lingerie.

I switch off the bedside lamp and climb in beside him, adopting my usual sideward position, then shudder as Dylan's enveloping arms bring their warmth. We settle into a dreamy spoon, fitting together like a jigsaw. After a few minutes of thought, I feel compelled to make a confession.

'I've never orgasmed with a guy before. That's why I was shaky on my way to the bathroom.'

I'm met with silence, suddenly making the quiet of the room feel like a din. I give him three breaths to reply, but nothing comes. 'You awake?'

'Yeah, you just threw me a little. Why do you think that is?'

'I don't know. There was just always something stopping me, like a wall I couldn't get past.'

'Well, I don't know what I did, but I'm glad I did it.'

Judging by his tone, I assume he's smiling. I do the same as I turn to face him.

'I've never had that problem,' he adds.

'Well it is easier for guys,' I point out. 'It's kind of necessary for the species to survive.'

'Good point.'

As our whispered laughter fades away, the light-hearted mood takes a serious turn. Though I can barely make out his silhouette, there's an intense adoration radiating from it, reciprocated in my unseen expression.

'I love you, Dylan.'

'I love you, too.'

We kiss goodnight, then cuddle until sleep claims us.

Dylan

I wake up with my arms splayed, and for a split second, my brain doesn't comprehend why light is streaming in from the left when my window is to the right of my bed. Slowly the fuzziness fades, and the events of last night come back to me. This isn't my room, and I had impassioned sex with my sister.

While reflecting on the surreal nature of that fact, I realise she isn't next to me. I roll onto my side to check the clock on her bedside table and find a folded note blocking the display. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I open it and blink the words into focus.

You look adorable when you're asleep.

See you tonight.

R

A warm feeling bubbles in my stomach, similar to the one I experienced when Mia agreed to a date, except more potent. I reflect on that night as I get out of bed; things would be so much easier if she'd been single and I hadn't fallen for the one woman in the world I'm not supposed to have.

Except now I have her. Or had her. The question of where we go from here is met with no clear answer. After silently cursing the universe for making us siblings, it occurs to me that the very thing making our feelings so contentious is also what enabled us to form our deep-seated affection. If she wasn't my sister, I doubt I'd feel as strongly as I do.

I check the clock. 9.43. I rarely sleep past eight o'clock, but then again, I also rarely expend so much energy before bed. Smiling at the memory, I make my way to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

Tea and cornflakes poured, I take them to the sofa, where the bookcase to my right draws my attention. I abandon my breakfast and mosey over. Only the bottom two shelves are dedicated to books; the ones at eye level display a variety of knickknacks and personal effects, the most precious of which are old family photos. As I scan them, a lump forms in my throat. I see my parents gazing lovingly at each other on their wedding day, exited to be at the start of their marital journey. To the right of that is my mum cradling a new-born Rachel, my proud dad looking on, and beside that is a carbon copy starring me, seven years later.

I blink away tears, each photo depicting a time closer to our family being torn apart. The last one ever taken of our parents was on a holiday to Cornwall. St Ives, I think. A stranger must've taken it, because all four of us are in frame, holding up ninety-nine ice creams with beaming smiles. The accident happened two months later.

There's only one after that, Rachel's graduation photo. She's smiling, but I know how hollow she felt inside that day, mum and dad not being there to see her achievement. I remember her crying after the ceremony. She did it in private so I wouldn't see, but I heard her through her bedroom door. It killed me.

I pick up the photo. I can't believe I never appreciated how beautiful she was.Is. It makes sense that I didn't—my biological aversion to family was still intact—but now I understand why my school friends had crushes on her. I place it back on the shelf and return to my cornflakes and tea, now soggy and lukewarm.

With little else to do with my day, I decide to plan a surprise for Rachel. I shower and get dressed, then browse Cajun chicken recipes online. It's always been her favourite, but the more sites I visit, the less confident I am of doing hers justice. It'll take some guesswork; she's always made it specifically to her liking, and each recipe I find contains subtle differences—and that's before taking into account my lack of culinary prowess.

I settle on the one that looks most familiar from memory and note the ingredients down. After comparing the list to what we already have, I head out to pick up the rest. The supermarket is my first port of call for the spices and chicken—luckily I don't bump into Mia—then I swing by our local market for vegetables to serve it with. I buy some strawberries for the dessert, then, happy with my morning's work, I return to the flat, envisioning a culinary triumph.

I text Rachel after lunch to check if she's going to be home on time. She replies that she is, but when she asks why, I leave her in the dark.

I start by making a no-bake strawberry cheesecake, then pre-prepare the spice mix for the Cajun chicken. Half an hour before she's due back, I get to work on the main, and the result is something I hope tastes as good as it smells. A mouth-watering aroma of spicy chicken, fried onions and peppers wafts through the flat. I set the table, leaving the plates in the oven to keep warm, then slump on the sofa with five minutes to spare.

As I hear footfalls coming up the stairs, I suddenly panic that the dinner won't be well-received. Although the note she left me this morning suggests otherwise, what if she's had second thoughts about what happened? The key turns in the door, and I brace to find out.

'Something smells amazing,' she says as she walks in. She sniffs the air. 'Is that Cajun chicken?'

'My best attempt at it.'

She beams, allaying my concerns in an instant. 'I can't believe you cooked my favourite.'

'Don't get too excited, you haven't tasted it yet.'

She skips over to give me a hug, then pecks me on the lips. It catches me by surprise.

'Something wrong?' she says.

'No. I guess this still feels weird. Not in a bad way... I wasn't sure how you'd feel about last night after having time to think about it.'

She smiles. 'I was thinking the same about you. Let's eat and we can talk.'

I plate up and wait for Rachel to take the first bite. 'How is it?'

'Really good,' she mumbles with a full mouth. 'It's a bit spicier than I make it, but I suppose that's appropriate after yesterday.'

We share a laugh. It's a good sign that she's cracking jokes. 'The note was nice, by the way.'

'I didn't want to wake you, although I was jealous that you got lie in.' She pauses for a moment, toying with her food. 'I meant it, though, last night wasn't just a romp for me.'

'I'm glad. It's difficult to ghost someone you live with.'

'I'm trying to be serious here...'

'Okay, I'm sorry.'

'This obviously isn't...conventional,' she continues. 'But we both had a difficult few weeks leading up to last night, and I don't know about you, but to me it came as a relief.'

I stay silent, prompting her to go on.

'I'm glad we did it. I spent the whole day expecting regret to set in, but it never did. In fact'—she flushes slightly—'all I could think about was coming home and doing it again.'

I feel my eyebrows raise, not having expected her to be so candid.

'Say something...' she pleads.

'I have no regrets either. Today is the best I've felt in a long time, and I want it to continue. But...' I trail off.

'Go on.'

'But I don't want it to be just about sex. One of the reasons I made dinner was to show you that. I want us to be together.'

'You mean in a proper relationship?'

I nod.

She looks at me in agonizing silence for what feels like an age, then her lips slowly curl into a smile. 'So...'

'So what?'

'Are you going to ask me out?'

'Seriously?'

'Hey, if we're doing this, we're doing it properly.'

'You're such a troll. Fine.' I clear my throat for dramatic effect. 'My dearest Rachel, will you do me thehonour of being my girlfriend?'

'Of course. But I have to say, I'm not happy with our relationship.'

I cock my head, slightly thrown off. 'What do you mean?'

'Well...my new boyfriend hasn't fucked me yet, and that won't do.'

In all the years of living with Rachel's banter, I never considered how it would manifest if she applied it to sex. It's a far cry from having my hair ruffled, and there's a glint in her eye that titillates my imagination. I'm curious to see how she'll handle an objection. 'Technically, "boyfriend" applies to me as a person, which means last night counts.'

She gets up and sashays to my side of the table. 'Technically, my pussy's been wet for you all day, so how about you drop the semantics and give me what I want.'

I puff out my cheeks. 'What the hell happened to my sister?'

She leans down and, with the tip of her tongue, licks my lips. 'She became your lover.'

That's the final straw. I bolt up, putting her in a fireman's lift, then carry her to my room and throw her on the bed. I'm hard on arrival, and seeing the wanton sparkle in her eyes sets my loins ablaze with desire. I don't waste time taking off her clothes; after unbuttoning my trousers and freeing my cock, I push up her skirt, rip a hole in her tights, and plunge myself into her teasing cunt.

I groan as her walls greet me with a blissful embrace. She hadn't lied about being wet; I slide into her with ease and set an intense pace right from the off. While our clothes restrict our movement and I miss the softness of her skin, the sight of her in professional attire, tits bouncing under her blouse, provides a compensatory thrill. I picture her at work, delegating to junior colleagues and speaking to clients—all the while aching for me. My cock swells at the thought. My arms tense under my weight as I pump harder and faster, causing the headboard to bump against the wall.

'Someone had some pent-up energy,' Rachel stammers between breaths.

My balls tighten as a wave of pleasure rises up my length. I look at her as a lion might its helpless prey. 'Is this what you wanted, for your boyfriend to fuck you?'

'Um-hmm.'

'I didn't catch that.'

'Yes!' she cries.'I wanted my boyfriend to fuck me.'

Her words catapult me past the point of no return, and after a few more relentless strokes I blast one, two, three, four jets deep inside her pussy. She squeals in delight as I lather her insides, raising herself on her elbows to watch my cock filling her up.

I become aware of the thud of my heartbeat as my climax wanes, suddenly realising how hot I am in my shirt and trousers. Her chest is heaving too, and together we slow our pulses with deep breaths. She didn't cum this time, but she doesn't seem to mind as a satisfied grin spreads across her face.

'Relationship problem solved,' she says.

After sliding out of her, I take a moment to appreciate her beautiful pussy, made all the lovelier with the knowledge it's full of my seed. 'I hope we have more if that's how we fix them.'

She laughs as she swings her legs off the bed. 'Although I'll need to buy new tights.' After fixing her panties and skirt, she slides off ruined garment.

'Sorry,' I say with a grin, not meaning if for a second.

'No you're not.'

'You got me.'

'Oh well, I know you like it when my legs are on show.'

I eye them up and down to prove her point, then follow her back to the kitchen. Such was the brevity of our session, dinner is still warm enough to eat.

'That was amazing,' Rachel says.

'The food or the sex?'

'Take your pick. But you've shot yourself in the foot—I expect you to cook for me more often.'

'Shit. Is this where you reveal you're high maintenance?'

Her jaw drops in indignation. 'How many meals have I cooked for you over the years, mister?'

'Just messing with you. I actually enjoyed it, so you might be surprised.' I get up and take our plates to the sink, then take the strawberry cheesecake from the fridge. 'And it isn't over yet.'

'Oh wow, that looks to die for.'

I cut us both a piece and, as with the chicken, wait for her to take the first bite.

'It'ssooo good,' she says with a comically orgasmic expression. 'Don't make too many desserts, though. I'll put on weight.'

'Not if we keep doing what we just did.'

'It'll takea lot more sex than that to burn this many calories.'

'Exactly.'

She clears her plate, and she's unable to resist going back for a second slither. 'You know what, if it meant I could keep eating this, I'd do you all day.'

'Can I ask a personal question?' I say after our laughter peters out.

'Sure.'

'How much...experience have you had?'

She gives me a puzzled look. 'Experience?'

'You know...in the bedroom.'

'You mean how many guys I've slept with?'

I nod. 'You don't have to answer, I was just curious.'

'I don't mind. I had the same conversation with Greg and Jason, and I'd be curious about you if I didn't already know. To be honest, though, there isn't much to tell—I'm quite boring in that regard. Besides the aforementioned, a high school and a university boyfriend were the only ones.' She must catch my expression. 'Does that surprise you?'

'Kind of. I suppose I thought there'd be more, especially since you're best mates with Aleisha.'

She chuckles. 'I love Aleisha more than anything, but we're in differentuniverses when it comes to men.'

While mulling over my misconception, a dozen-year-old memory pops into my head. 'Wasn't Charlie the one from high school? I remember him vaguely, he came to the house for dinner a few times. I always thought he was a tool.'

'Yep, so did mum and dad,' she says with a wry smile. 'Stupid me wouldn't listen though, so I had to learn the hard way after he bragged to his mates that we'd slept together.'

'Jesus, no wonder you were so upset.'

'Dad was fuming. After berating me for how irresponsible I'd been, mum had to physically stop him storming over to Charlie's house.' She laughs at the memory. 'Part of me wishes he had. I'd have given anything to see the look on his face.'

'Was he really that harsh?' I ask. 'Sixteen isn't that young to start having sex.'

'Dads and daughters, that's just the way it is. I'd have walked around in a chastity belt if he'd had his way.' She looks up at the ceiling as tears form in her eyes. 'I still miss him so much. I miss them both.' She wipes them away. 'Sorry, now I'm blubbering.'

I trade my chair for the one next to her and take her hand. 'Don't ever apologize for grief. As your boyfriend, that's an order.'

She smiles at me with puffy eyes. 'So you're giving me orders already?'

'Of course. I miss them too, Rach, so I'll always be here for you if you want to cry together. Well, you can cry—I'll be masculinely stoic.'

She laughs. 'How on earth are you so wonderful?'

'I learned from the best.'

She throws her arms around me and squeezes me tight. 'Thank you.'

'I don't blame Charlie, to be honest,' I joke as we carry plates to the sink. 'If I'd takenPrimal Atavism years ago, I might have bragged to my mates, too. They all fancied you.'

'Dyl, sixteen-year-old boys fancy anything with a pulse, especially someone who's a bit older. You drooled over Aleisha for years.'

'I got her in the end, though.'

'Don't let her hear you say stuff like that,' she teases. 'She'll annihilate you.'

I flash her a grin. 'I can think of worse things.'

She turns on the tap, then slips her arms around my waist. 'Nope. You're mine now, and I'm not the kind of girl who shares.'

'Damn. That ruins the threesome I had planned for the weekend.'

She snorts. 'In your dreams. Do you mind if I do a run-through of my pitch for you tonight? I could use some feedback before tomorrow.'

'Sure.'

'Be honest with me though, I need to know if it sucks.'

'I'll channel my inner Simon Cowell.'

'Hopefully it won't be that bad.'

'I'm sure you'll be great.'

She pecks me on the cheek. 'You're so sweet. And as a thank you, I might have a surprise for you tomorrow night.'

'What kind of surprise?'

She shakes her head with a devilish smile. 'You'll have to wait and see.'

*

I wake up to find Rachel already showered and dressed, applying her makeup. 'Morning,' I say sleepily.

'Good morning.' She smiles at me in the mirror and pouts her lips. 'What do you think?'

'Hot.'

'I was hoping you'd say "professional", but I'll take what I can get.'

'I never said you can't be both. How are you feeling about the pitch?'

She blots her lips, then gets up from the dresser and gives me a kiss. 'A bit nervous, but we're well-prepared, so we have a great chance of winning. There'll be tough competition, though, so nothing is guaranteed.'

'If all else fails, you could always show some cleavage.'