Thorne Bay Siblings

*All characters involved in sex scenes are over the age of 18

CHAPTER 1

The plane finally dropped below the cloud level and Nash was treated to a view of the Island from his passenger window. The Isle of Inroh. Home.

He'd only been gone two weeks but already he'd missed it. But it wasn't the land that frequented his thoughts late at night.

"I recognise that look," said the stranger next to him. An old man. It was a busy flight, people were worried the airports might shut down again soon, and so they rushed to get back home. Nash had cut his holiday short for another reason, it was the first day of the new school year.

"What look?" He humoured the old man.

"Love."

Nash scoffed.

"Do yourself a favour," the old man had a distant look in his eye. "Act on it. Don't let it pass you by." As the old man fell into a well of memories and regret, Nash turned back to the beautiful view of the island, lost in thoughts of his own.

***

Nash returned from his holiday alone, but he didn't leave that way. He'd left with two of his best friends, Saburo and Kade. It was meant to be a graduation holiday, and Saburo and Kade had graduated.

But not Nash. He hadn't even written the exams. At the end of the school year, he'd suffered from what the doctor called a 'severe mental breakdown'. He'd crashed. From the stress or fear or something else.

As he disembarked the plane, retrieved his luggage and ordered a taxi, he tried to occupy himself with a single focus...Determination. He was determined to do better this year, but he could still feel it. Something inside of him that was broken. Something was holding him back.

It was a thirty-minute ride from the airport to the town but it passed in an instant. He was lost in his own thoughts, as he always was. He'd barely paid attention to the rolling green hills of Inroh, and hadn't spoken a word to the driver.

The sign woke him from his torpor. Thorne Bay. A hundred thousand people were living on the island of Inroh, more than half of which lived in Thorne Bay.

"Nice neighbourhood," the driver whistled as Nash disembarked, paid and thanked him.

It was already 9 am, and Nash was already late for his first day of the new school year. Hopefully, that also meant the house (mansion, some would call it) was empty. Nash loved his three sisters, but he was feeling particularly overwhelmed at the moment.

The door was already unlocked. Nash frowned and let himself in. And there she was. The vixen that had lived rent-free in his mind for the past two weeks. Who was he kidding? More than two weeks. He had fantasies about how this moment might play out. She would be overjoyed at seeing him. They would finally confess the deep-rooted, forbidden feelings they had for each other, a massive weight off of their collective shoulder. And then she would drag him upstairs, and the things they would do to each other... Unbridled passions, held in secret from a world that despises such carnal union.

That's what he hoped would happen.

"Where've you been!" his youngest sister, Aisling came thundering towards him, a fury of raven hair. It was amazing how someone so small could look so fierce. When she wasn't angry, her blue eyes were studious and quick, eager to wring anything they could from the scene, today then burnt red with... Something. Rage? Why?

She finally caught up to him and Nash grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. It felt good, until she abruptly pulled away.

"We need to get to school," she stammered, her expression was unreadable, but it wasn't good.

"Before I left... The kiss? Aisling... I haven't been able to think of anything else since."

"That was a mistake." And she made to leave the house. "Come on." A part of Nash wished he'd never left the plane. Wished he'd never come back.

***

Nash's mind was a blur as they retrieved their bikes from the garage and began to pedal downhill towards Thorne Bay Academy. The old man had warned him not to let love pass him by and yet, Nash felt as if it had long since sailed.

He loved his sister Aisling. In a very unbrotherly way. Perhaps he was just broken in some irredeemable way. But he knew she'd felt the same. She'd kissed him before he'd left for South Africa, for his holiday.

Aisling took her studies seriously and was rushing towards the school. Nash's heart was thundering, and he let her drift ahead. He could feel it coming. Another breakdown. He turned off the street he should have been on, and then he took another. He was gazing at a beautiful view of the bay as he let gravity pull his bike down a road out of town. His head was ablaze with a thousand conflicting thoughts. He willed his heart to still.

He'd barely noticed the truck before it hit him. His shoulder flared with pain as it struck, he lost all sense of direction, of gravity. And then he hit the ground, and all pain subsided.

***

When you see an angel, an actual angel, then you know it is so. And indeed Nash knew it was so when it came down to him. She had wings that soared to the horizon and hair that glowed gold. Her body was perfection, clad in loose white fabrics that would have been overly revealing even if they weren't translucent. Her skin was rich in its paleness and lent her curves an otherworldly glow.

She smiled as she batted her wings and landed next to him. Nash knew what she would say before she said it.

"You have died, my child." she held his cheek and Nash felt tears well in his eyes. As much as he sometimes despised living, there isn't a soul that doesn't meet death without fear and regret. She leaned in, and Nash found himself tensing. "But you were destined for far greater things. I'm not supposed to intervene, not so much as this. But you're not supposed to die," she whispered the words like honey in his ear.

"You have a choice to make, then. My dear Nash." She smiled and ran her hand gently across his face. Even in this state, Nash felt his arousal rise. He wanted to kiss her, to suck on those nimble fingers. He wanted to move, to hold her, to take her. But he was frozen.

"Die, and be at peace," she placed a hand on his chest, and Nash wished she would reach lower still. "Or take my gift, and be reborn. And be prepared to fight." She cradled his head on her knees.

"I choose life." Nash was surprised at his conviction. Something was broken inside him, but he wasn't ready to die just yet.

"Then drink." She said. Nash was confused. Drink what? The angel parted her skirts and Nash saw it. Her penis. A cock so beautiful he didn't give it a second thought. He brought it to his mouth and began to suck.

Nash had never had an inclination to dick, but he'd never seen a dick on a woman before, and who could deny an angel? He enjoyed her hairless sack, her full balls, her adamantine rigidness.

Women have softer skin than men, and apparently, that was true of their cocks as well. Even hard like this, her flesh was springy and gelatinous on his tongue. He squeezed it gently with his lips, pressed it onto the roof of his mouth. When you make an angel moan with pleasure, the sound is almost enough to bring your own orgasm.

He wished he could reach out, to hold her, caress her, to properly play. But this was more function than merry. He was still frozen, half caught in death's embrace, a small part of him hanging on by the angel's olive branch.

Her precum was a nectar from the gods, and with a swallow, he felt life return to him. Not enough to move, but a shiver through his limbs. A flick of muscle spasm where none was possible before.

"Good boy," she scratched his head. "I could play with you all day, but you have a destiny to chase. Now drink, my child."

Her cum was caramel sweet, and she shot it into his mouth with a lament that caused an orgasm of his own. His mouth filled with the divine treat, and he wanted to keep it there, to enjoy its taste for an eternity. But more was coming.

He swallowed eagerly as the angel continued erupting, A second mouthful. A third. All tumultuously devoured.

"I am Tempest," the angel lowered her face and let out her tongue. She started at his chin and began to lick upwards. Nash opened his mouth and for a glorious moment, her tongue raked his. But she continued upward, brushing his nose and forehead. Marking him with her sacred saliva.

"Now go, and may you have better luck this time."

***

Nash set up with a jolt. He was sitting on the side of the road, on a soft bed of grass. He hastily felt his body up and down. There were no signs of injuries. His bike was discarded to the side, its front wheel warped and crippled. Whoever had crashed into him must have either gone for help or fled.

BEEP BEEP.

A notification from his phone. A message appeared on his cracked screen.

Aisling: Where are you? Are you ok? I'm sorry about this morning. We can talk about it. Just come to school.

Nash picked up his bike and began walking to school. There was no evidence that an angel had really come down. Surely it was just a dream. And yet, he'd skipped breakfast, and now his belly was full, his knickers stained. And a taste lingered in his mouth. He ran his tongue over his teeth and caught the idling memory of caramel.

***

Thorne Academy was a face brick building on the edge of town. The grounds were quiet as classes were already in session. Nash tied up his bike and after a quick message to Aisling, went to his first class of the year.

Math. The class he hated the most. Where his teacher was his second sister, Nastasya.

She didn't comment on his belatedness. But indicated with a deft hand for him to take a seat. Where Aisling was short and full-breasted. Nastasya was tall with a pair of legs so severe they seemed to cut through your jeans and caress your cock from across the room. She kept her hair short, like Bayonetta from that one game. Nash would never do anything so reprobate as to masturbate to the thought of his older sister. But by god did he jack it off to Bayonetta.

Nash's old classmates had moved on. A year behind, he stared across a sea of less familiar faces. He took an isolated seat at the back. He didn't know how to approach Aisling just yet.

"You all know who I am, and you all know I want you all to do your best in your final year," Nastasya was a commanding teacher that instantly kept a class quiet, whether from fear, respect, or cute autumn dresses that caught the eye and shut the mouth. "That means finding out your weakness quickly so we can begin to work on them

She picked up a stack of papers from the desk. "So first things first. Pop quiz.!"

The class groaned.

***

After the quiz, which Nash was woefully unprepared for, recess had begun. Nash found himself alone at a table. He'd need to make new friends soon, this was depressing. As if God himself had heard him, two of his new classmates approached him.

"You're Aisling's brother, right? Mind if we join you?" the boy asked.

Nash blinked.

"Oh, I'm Sandro." Sandro was black, with frizzy hair, an average build and a contagious smile.

"And I'm Pavla," the girl waved awkwardly. She was descended from the natives of Inroh, and had their brown skin and flowy hair, which was so long it reached the curve of her butt.. Her right arm was covered in traditional bracelets and beads that rattled as she waved. Her left hand was holding onto Sandro's. A couple, then.

"Sure," Nash tried to be polite. Then, something clicked in his mind. "You're Aisling's friends, right? You guys play Dungeons and Dragons with her."

"Yeah, She's the dungeon master, DM, she runs our game," Sandro explained. Aisling had always loved stories. She'd been devouring books for as long as he'd known. It made sense that she'd find an avenue for storytelling.

"That's cool," Nash took a bite from the sandwich he'd bought. He wasn't very hungry though, perhaps he was still full from...earlier. "I've never played D&D."

"You should join us!" Pavla shrieked. The petite girl had a frill voice.

"Oh, no. I'm not really into-"

"Yeah!" Sandro clapped. "Hey, Aisling! Nash wants to join our campaign!"

Nash turned around to see Aisling standing there. Confused in her all too tight batman t-shirt. She paused, and then looked at him with a sparkle in her sea-blue eyes and smiled.

"Yeah. I can play D&D," Nash said.

***

When he finally managed to brush Sandro and Pavla off, Nash found himself being dragged to the side by Aisling.

"Are you okay? Where'd you disappear to this morning? You gave me a heart attack." She looked genuinely concerned.

"I needed some air," Nash said carefully. "It was... a lot to deal with. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Do you want to talk about... it?" she gripped the bottom of her shirt nervously. Nash glanced around.

"Maybe not here." He frowned. "Maybe not ever. I misinterpreted the situation. I put you on the spot. We can just go back to hanging out together."

"I'd like that," she smiled. But there was something behind the smile. Disappointment. A yearning. The cloudiness that had plagued Nash since forever was disappearing somewhat. He was more aware of the world. Keener.

CHAPTER 2

Reconciled with Aisling, Nash spent most of the first week with his head down, focusing on his studies. He'd never been a particularly diligent student, but he was determined to succeed. He tried his best to start the year off with a head start. He tried to keep his books in order, asked Aisling for help in managing his timetable and asked Nastasya for help with some taxing math problems.

All in all, he didn't have much time to think about the strange angel, Tempest, or the ramifications of that encounter. Maybe he didn't want to think about it. Besides, hadn't she told him to go out there and chase destiny? Nash wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but this seemed like a good start.

Saturday rolled around, and its morning brought his first D&D session with it. Nash helped Aisling set up a few pieces in what used to be the attic, but had been converted into a comfortable drawing-room.

Sandro whistled as he entered, arm in arm with Pavla. "Damn Ays, why were we always playing in my basement? Your place is incredible!"

Aisling smiled, scoffed and didn't say anything as she set up behind her DM screen.

"I like the decor," Pavla chimed.

"Mom has good taste," Aisling said, as she began preparing a character sheet for Nash.

"She's a fashion designer, right? Is she here?" Pavla plopped herself down onto a cushion.

"No, she's always travelling, managing catwalks and whatnot. Anyway, let's start!" Aisling had good taste but didn't care much for high fashion.

Sandro connected his phone to the sound system and began to play some tasteful ambient music, and before long the entire party were sat on the floor around a low table. They made themselves comfortable on the thick rug, surrounded by cushions and scatter pillows. The windows had been thrown open, letting in a cool morning breeze.

"When we left off, you had just returned to Queen Ieysa's court, having completed a quest for her."

"And she STILL won't tell us where the jewel is," Sandro complained.

"Well, the good news is that help has arrived. As you stand in the queen's court, you are approached by a new adventurer!"

Everyone turned to look at Nash.

"Uh," he stammered.

"Introduce your character!" they all pleaded.

"But, what is my character?" Nash asked.

"Whatever you want to be! I'm Sylvian, the elven bard," Sandro said.

"And I'm Petra, the tiefling warrior," Pavla smirked, flexing her skinny biceps and rattling her many beaded bracelets.

Sandro liked music, so it made sense he'd be a bard. But Nash was surprised that Pavla played a warrior. Perhaps there was a side to the girl he had yet to see.

Nash took a look at the archetypes, and one, in particular, spoke to him.

"I'll be a roguish assassin, named... uh. Nikolai." Nash followed the trend of naming his character with the same first letter of his own name.

"What's his race?" Aisling began scribbling on the character sheet.

"Human."

"Pfft. Boring." Sandro laughed.

"Here, you're still level one." Aisling handed Nash the sheet, and after explaining a few rules and deciding on his starter gear and abilities, he was ready to go.

"You're approached by Nikolai, the human assassin, who offers to help you in your new quest."

"New quest?" Pavla asked. Aisling cleared her throat and stood.

"Adventurers," she began to pace around the room. Nash became very aware that she was barefooted and wearing nothing but jean shorts and a yellow tank top, and the display of skin was far too alluring, to say nothing of her massive boobs, their shape almost entirely moulded through the thin fabric. "A group of bandits is holding a noble hostage. They demand a ransom. My army cannot be seen, or they will execute the hostages." Aisling spoke in the lofty voice of Queen Ieysa.

"Besides," she began to pace around the room. "My husband, the king," her voice dripped with malice. "Refuses to send the royal guard. You're an assassin of some renown, are you not?" she stood over Nash and began to rub his head delicately, fingers scratching at his scalp. "Show me what you can do."

"And then you'll tell us where the jewel is?" Sandro, or rather Sylvian the bard asked.

"As I said before-"

"You'll tell us where the jewel is when you're satisfied." Sandro and Pavla chorused.

"We understand each other then," Ailing's voice dripped with sovereignty. She flicked a finger across Nash's jaw before heading back to her seat.

"Right. Let's go kill some bandits," Nash said, desperately trying to hide his massive erection.

***

For an hour more they played, as Aisling described their traversal across the city of Aufhym, through markets and city streets packed with horses, peasants, and soldiers armed with sword and shield. And behind it all, a criminal underbelly, hidden just out of reach, scheming and plotting.

Nash was amazed at Aisling's ability to tell a story. She'd close her eyes, and let forth words that washed over the mind and left a vivid image in their wake. Nash could scarcely remember the exact choice of vocabulary she offered, but the image left behind would stick with him forever.

Eventually, they tracked the bandits to a mansion just outside the city. It was isolated, and the sun was beginning to set. A perfect time to attack.

"How many bandits are there?" Asked Petra, the hulking brute of a woman. Her skin was a sooty tinge of red, burning for a fight. Her twin blackened horns added to her devilish charm.

"Roll for perception," said Aisling. Pavla rolled her twenty-sided die.

"Nine."

"You can see at least three through the windows," Aisling said, adjusting her round spectacles. They paused for a moment, considering their actions.

"Well, Nikolai, you're the rogue. This is a stealth encounter. You call the shots." Sylvian pulled out his lute and played a tune, his elf ears echoing its beat.

Nikolai was inexperienced but saw this as an opportunity to take charge.

"Sylvian. Do what you do best, distract them with a tune while I sneak through the back and free the hostages. Once they're free, or if the plan goes sideways, I'll give the signal. We go loud, Petra rushes in and gets to hit things with her greatsword.

"What's the signal?" Petra asked, voice dripping with anticipation.

"Three short whistles, followed by a long one," Nikolai said.

"Okay," Sylvian began strutting towards the front gate. "Let's do this."

***