Primal Atavism

Rachel sighs, looking around at the other couples. 'I'm glad it wasn't just me feeling that way.'

'Really?'

She nods. 'I wish more than anything that I could have introduced you as my boyfriend. Today has made me realise that if we stay here, we'll always be looking over our shoulders.'

'So what do we do?'

'I don't think we have a choice. They only way we can be a normal couple is to start again where no one knows us.'

My stomach flips at her words. Not because I don't like the idea, rather the implication of what she's prepared to do. I don't have much to lose by moving. She does. 'But most of your friends are here, and you've got a great job.'

'Leaving my friends behind will be hard—especially since I'll have to lie about why I'm leaving. As for my job, I can get a similar one somewhere else. It won't pay as well as London, but the cheaper cost of living should make up for it.'

'Are you sure, Rach? You'll be upending your entire life for me.'

'I know, but I don't see any other way. I want us to work, Dylan, and I'm prepared to make the sacrifice.'

'Are youabsolutely sure?'

She smiles. 'I wouldn't say so if I wasn't. You still have a year left at uni, so there's no rush, but it probably makes sense for us to be settled by the time you graduate.'

I puff out my cheeks. 'So, we're really doing this?'

The expression she returns lies somewhere between excited and terrified. 'We're really doing this!'

'The only question is where?'

'Who knows? I suppose we can pick wherever we want. We'll have do do some research; it needs to be somewhere we both like where we can find jobs. We could even go on trips to places we like the look of to scout them out.'

I struggle to find words. Just like that, we're moving away together, and all I can think about is how much I want to graduate right now. Well, that's almost all I can think about. She's got that glint in her eyes I've come to know all too well, communicating a thousand lascivious things. 'Home?' I say.

'What are you waiting for?'

*

She jumps on me as soon as we get through the door, hooking her legs around my waist. It's not a moment too soon, and I indulge, squeezing her arse beneath the sundress that's been teasing me since she put it on.

'Fuck, I've been wanting to do this all afternoon. Seeing all that PDA and not being able to do the same was torture'

'I know,' she says between kisses. 'I can't wait for us to move.'

The words stoke my desire, and I carry her to the sofa and set her down, brimming with an insatiable need to devour her pussy. Her panties slide off quick and easy, helped by her outstretched legs. As always, they're drenched to the touch, and she shoots me a wicked smile as if to say they couldn't be any other way. The aroma of her sex follows, mingled with her intoxicating natural scent made stronger by our walk in the sun. She spreads her legs, an invite that will never fail to make me weak at the knees, and my first teasing lick is perfection on the tip of my tongue.

'Imagine if Mills and Worthington could see us now,' I say. I treat her pussy to a slow second lick. 'I think they'd understand why I can't resist my sister.'

She whimpers and bites her lip, her breathing more urgent than before. 'You could show them what my brother can do to me.'

I smile. 'Even if it's illegal.'

'But it's so worth it...'

I delve back between her legs, licking and sucking every last part of what ought to be forbidden. Even if the detectives were here I wouldn't be able to stop, and I know Rachel wouldn't either.

Her pussy gushes more and more as squeals, groans, and rapid breaths fill the room. Her thighs constrict around me, while the rest of her squirms on the sofa as she approaches the edge. I focus on her swollen clit, licking, flicking, and sucking, making one of my imaginings I'd had during our picnic reality. The other couples might have been able to show their affection, but none of those guys were as horny for their significant others as I was for Rachel.

'Oh Dylan... Fuck, right there! Ohhhhhh, just like that...'

She's as wet as I've ever known her, and the heat from her skin intensifies, scaling with her quickening breaths. Her hands scrunch the upholstery as she cries out in pleasure, crushing my head between her thighs through her climax.

She releases me, rosy-cheeked and breathless, looking down with what looks like an undertone of embarrassment. 'Sorry. I didn't grip you too hard, did I?'

I can't help but grin—after all, she has nothing to apologise for. I stroke my cock, harder for her arousal on my face. 'That was so fucking hot, Rach.'

Desire replaces her concern in an instant, and she bolts off the sofa and pushes me to the floor, draping her lips over my yearning cock. I gasp and groan, involuntary noise after involuntary noise fleeing my lips as she slurps up and down like her life depends on making me cum. I prop myself up on my elbows, unable to take my eyes off the sight. Her ample arse jiggles in the air. Her creamy tits bounce with the effort. Her blonde hair tickles my thighs as her lips glisten with precum and saliva. It's the first serious blowjob she's given me since the night of her and Aleisha's taboo game, and she's making up for lost time.

Mills and Worthington sat above us only a few hours ago, asking questions, searching for answers. What an answer this would be, the big sister gorging on the little brother, gifting him the mouth that was made to suck his cock. Her warm hand finds my balls, prompting a shiver and arching of my back as she releases me with a heavenly slurp. It fondles and teases while the other hand strokes, keeping me on that blissful plane just shy of the point of no return.

She looks at me, smiling, licking her lips. The way no sibling is supposed to stare at another. 'I want you to blow your load down the back of my throat. Will you do that for your big sister?'

My 'yes' comes out somewhere between speech and a squeal. However silly it sounded, it draws a chuckle from Rachel as she sinks back onto my cock. Pleasure surges up my legs and back, culminating in heavenly brain fog as I fulfil her request. Ever the generous lover, she swallows every drop, rewarding me with the same appreciative sounds as when she took a bite of my strawberry cheesecake. Dreamy and relaxed, I lie back and stare at the ceiling, smiling as she gently sucks me down.

She crawls up my body a few seconds later, filling my nose with her intoxicating natural scent. The desire for a second nap of the day makes keeping my eyes open a struggle, and her smiling features grow hazier above me.

'I'll take you going to sleep on me as a compliment,' she says.

'That was... That was...' The words are there but I can't give voice to them. Closing my eyes feels too good.

I wake up to Rachel's smile and a steaming mug of tea on the table above. The floor is comfier than I remember, thanks to something soft under my head—one of the sofa cushions.

'I didn't want to wake you,' she says. 'You looked so content.' She grabs her phone and shows me what I can only describe as an unflattering photo of me sleeping like a baby, drool and all. 'And adorable too.'

'If you think that's adorable, you need your head examining.' I sit up and toss the cushion back onto the sofa. 'Thanks for the tea.'

'And thank you for that huge load. I'll take you napping for an hour as a sign I did a good job.'

'An hour?'

She giggles. 'Just over. I've never seen anything like it.'

'It's your fault. You shouldn't be so good at sucking cock.'

A flush of pink rosies her cheeks. 'As much as I love it, it's still a little weird to hear you say things like that. Do you think that will ever go away?'

'I hope not. It's good weird, right?'

'The best weird.' She reaches for the table and hands me my tea. 'Drink up, before it gets cold. You need to replenish your fluids.'

I arch an eyebrow. 'So I can give them to you?'

'Of course. Why else do you think I made it?'

I chuckle as we cuddle on the sofa, her body heat welcome after an hour spent naked on the floor. Her breath on my shoulder is rhythmic and comforting, as are the shapes she draws on my chest with her finger. In moments like this I wonder whether I'll be able to cope back at uni. It might sound silly, but to love someone so much and not have them around... It's something I've never had to worry about before.

'Are you excited about going back to uni?' she asks.

Strange how separate streams of consciousness can converge. 'I was just thinking about that. I don't know, it's going to be strange without you.'

'It'll be nice to see your flatmates, though.'

'Yeah, but they don't look as good naked as you.'

She breaths a giggle onto my shoulder before going quiet. Normally she'd respond to a comment like that, but the longer I wait, the thicker the silence feels. 'What's wrong, Rach?'

'Nothing, I'm being silly.'

'Go on.'

'I've never been the jealous type, but it's different with you.'

'What do you mean?'

'I keep picturing you at uni... Primal Atavism will obviously have an effect on some of the girls there, too. The thought of them trying to get close to you makes me so...ugh! Does that make me a psycho?'

'Maybe a little,' I tease, 'but I'm flattered. Part of me would be offended if you didn't care at all.' I give her a playful nudge. 'At least I didn't have a girlfriend before we got together. Imagine how I felt about Greg.'

She looks up in surprise. 'I've never thought about that. Were you really jealous of him?'

I reply in a tone half joking, half serious. 'I've never hated anyone more.'

'Hmm... You're right, that is psychotic and flattering.' She takes my tea from me and straddles my lap, resting her warm pussy on my cock, which doesn't fail to notice. 'But you don't have to be jealous of Greg any more.' She flashes the sultriest of smiles, gently grinding her hips. 'It's him who should be jealous of you.'

'Why's that?'

She reaches down and adjusts my cock to slip inside her, as always a glorious fit. 'Because he'll never get to do this again,' she whispers, making every nerve in my loins sigh in pleasure.

I grab her hair and yank her head down, bringing our foreheads together. She yelps then smiles at the sudden motion, whispering pleas for me to fuck her that heat my blood to rival the temperature of the sun. I slam my hips into her thighs, rhythmic, invasive, burying my cock deep in her pussy until I feel she's about to cum. Her squeals only motivate me more, and I push her forehead further into mine, increasing the pressure until it hurts. The pleasure makes an ally of the pain, and I grunt like an animal through the last few strokes as her walls contract around me, wetting my cock with as intense an orgasm as the first. My balls expel a second heavenly load, a surprising amount given how much she swallowed an hour ago.

An amount only she could coax.

Rachel

I stretch myself awake to see Dylan lying there, still sound asleep. We've taken to sleeping naked in the last couple of weeks, the scorching weather making clothes uncomfortable. I take my obligatory glance under the duvet at his body. Strong arms, firm torso, and those hips that he can put to work so well. Not to mention his gorgeous cock, plump and inviting with morning wood. The best thing about being an early riser is that I can wake him up in any way I like—sometimes with my hand, others with my mouth, once by riding him into the most blissful return to the waking world I've seen anyone experience. Either way, sex before breakfast has become the norm. Today, however, will be a little bit different.

He stirs after a few minutes, making his usual half-asleep noises that I find so adorable. I smile at him, propped up on my elbow, and he returns it as soon as he looks at me.

'Morning beautiful,' he says, the velvet in his voice telling me exactly what he wants. He slides across the bed and reaches out for me, but I intercept his hands and bat them away to a look of shock I can't help but find amusing. It's understandable. Usually I can't wait to have his hands on me, and while today is no exception, a little deferred gratification will be worth it for both of us.

'Something wrong?' he asks.

I peck him on the lips. 'Nope, but you're not getting any until tonight.'

He looks at me like I've gone mad. 'Any particular reason?'

'Because, my dear,' I whisper in his ear, 'you go back to university tomorrow, which means tonight I want your best.' I treat his earlobe to the softest of licks, an infinitesimal spec of what he can look forward to later. 'I want you to show me I'm yours... I want you to fuck me like it's the last opportunity you'll have.'

When I pull back his expression has changed, as though considering whether or not he likes the idea. 'So I can't touch you all day?'

I shake my head with a sultry smile. 'All day. But you'll have all night to make up for what you missed.'

I get up and make for the door, feeling his gaze boring into my bum. Imagining his frustration brings a mote of guilt, but mainly wicked anticipation of how it will manifest at the end of the day. Leaving his cock achingly hard, I head to the kitchen to start breakfast. It's not long before I hear footsteps behind me.

'If I can't touch, I may as well look,' he says.

'No harm in that. Maybe it'll give you some inspiration.'

He sits at the kitchen table and stares at me while I make French toast, playing with himself all the while. It's a strange feeling being so flagrantly objectified, although I mean that in the best possible way. An occasional moan or sigh escapes him at particularly satisfying moments of pleasure, and it doesn't take long for my body to protest the rules I've made for the day.

Arousal pools between my legs as the kitchen gets hotter, both literally and figuratively. My pussy begs to be entered, and the cock it wants is but a few steps away, ready and willing.

Ignoring it as best I can, I plate up his toast. I turn to take it to him and immediately lay eyes on his fingers coiled around his thick shaft. He strokes slowly, sliding his hood back and forth, tip glazed with precum. I'm wet enough to sink onto it without resistance, and it's hard to dismiss the voice in my head telling me to do just that. Willpower just about prevails, and I sit at the table trying to think about something else.

'How about we go to the cinema today?' I suggest. 'We haven't been as much lately.'

He smiles. 'That's because we've been busy doing other things.'

'Well, seeing as we won't be doing those things this afternoon, I wouldn't mind seeingOppenheimer'

'I'd love to be your date, but I expect popcorn and a drink.'

'Hmm... I'm not sure I like you that much.'

'Your loss. I always put out when my dates buy me snacks.'

'I didn't realise you were such a slut.'

He smiles again. 'You made me that way.'

The banter continues as we finish breakfast, then we shower, dress, and leave for the cinema a couple of hours later. Along the way, the sexual tension grows thick within the confined space of the car. It's partly my doing, I must admit, having chosen an outfit I know he likes. Nothing too revealing or complicated, merely a pair of figure-hugging jeans and a white top that shows off the perfect amount of cleavage.

We arrive at the cinema, where I catch him glancing at the aforementioned jeans as I get out of the car. Seeing my reflection in the window, I'm not surprised. Not that I'm cockey about my body—I know it's not catwalk or Instagram 'perfect'—but the way Dylan worships it has made me appreciate it more.

'We'll miss the film if you keep admiring yourself,' he says from the passenger side.

'I think I'd make a good film, what do you think?'

'Only if I can write the script and have a starring role.'

'And what exactly would your character do?'

'I think you know that already.' He saunters to the driver's side and lowers his voice as a family walk by. 'You wore that on purpose, didn't you.'

I put a hand to my mouth, feigning indignation. 'How could you accuse me of such a thing?' I jog towards the cinema before he can reply, putting some staring distance between him and my bum I'm hoping he makes use of. It takes him a while to catch up, so he obviously did.

We pick up our tickets, then I buy popcorn and drinks. Salted has always been his favourite, while I prefer sweet.

'Remember, you promised you'd put out,' I whisper on our way to the screen. I reflexively look around to make sure no one overheard, but there's not a soul nearby.

'You still have to be nice to me for the rest of the date.'

He opens the screen door and pinches my bum as we pass through. I try my best to stifle a yelp, but a tiny squeal slips out, and he meets my look of reproach with an unabashed smile. We climb the stairs to the middle of the back row, having had our pick of the seats.Oppenheimer has been out for a while, so I doubt it will be a full house. By the time the film starts and our popcorn's half eaten, about a dozen people are dotted around the room, no one else in the back row.

About ten minutes in his hand lands on my thigh, sending a ripple of heat up my spine that pricks at the back of my neck. It stays there, restrained, although I want nothing more than for it to move up and inward. Then comes the brush of his lips against my ear.

'I can't wait to fuck you tonight,' he whispers in a voice like silk.

The pricking in my neck shoots of the scale, the heat rushing to my chest and head. I shift in my seat, then feel his lips curl into a smile, feather-light against my skin.

'I can't wait to bury my cock deep in your hot, wet cunt.'

Suddenly the film makes no sense; it's like the actors are speaking a foreign language and the images are swirling into an unintelligible mass. A glance down reveals his rock hard tent even in the dark, a perfect pairing with my soaked knickers. I know fooling around in the cinema is a cliché, but if there was no rule and he wasn't my brother, my hand would be wrapped around it already.

But there is, and he is, so his whispered words are as far as things go. The credits roll, and I leave the screen barely able to recall what I watched, my concentration co-opted by counting the minutes until tonight. We exchange a glance in the car, one that says, 'We don't have to honour this arbitrary rule—we could fuck each other's brains out as soon as we get home'. Tempting though it is, I don't think we will. I need to know how he feels after depriving myself, and I can tell he feels the same way.

We arrive home and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening exchanging longing looks, struggling through the minutes as they tick by with excruciating slowness. We prepare dinner together, passing each other between sink, hob, and fridge as though a bomb will go off if we touch. Fortunately, we get through it without an explosion and sit at the table to eat.

'Are you all packed for tomorrow?' I ask, trying to distract me from dangerous thoughts.

'Almost. Still got a few bits left. I have to leave behind the thing want most, though.'

My heart almost melts. There's no flirtation in his tone, no innuendo—just earnest words that make me want to hold him close. 'I wish I could go too.'

He smiles, and just like that the dangerous thoughts return, although I don't think they really went away. We finish dinner and clear our plates, the sense of anticipation rising, then I take profiteroles out of the fridge for desert. As always, the cream and chocolate are exceedingly good, delighting the tongue and oh so satisfying on the way down. Whether I'm thinking about the food or something else, I'm not sure, but my impatience to finish probably provides the answer.