Wilderwood Ch. 10

It's still a wild coincidence.

I'm still trying to process this when I overhear the receptionist talking to someone who's just walked up to the desk.

"Dr. Dunning will see you now, Mr. Trowley."

* * * * *

He must have walked right by me. I'm still standing in the alcove where the painting of Dr. Newley hangs, and since I've been hunched over looking at my phone, and I'm wearing a suit for once, Trowley wouldn't have recognised me as he passed.

I look warily out from the alcove and see him walking away from the reception desk toward the stairs leading up to the upper floor of the building. He's in his usual black suit and fedora, with his gold watch glinting on his wrist. He's got his back to me so I can't see his face, but it's definitely Alex Trowley.

It's utterly impossible. Trowley spent six months in this place years ago, according to Steve, but he's walking in now as easily and casually as a member of staff or a paying patient, and there's no way that that he's meeting the fees this place charges out of YouTube ad revenue. Half of his videos get demonetised anyway. I guess he could be visiting someone, but given Trowley's obsessive hate-on for the Institute I'm amazed that he's even allowed on the grounds. The idea that he can just walk around in here is just... well... insane.

I'm still thinking about that, and about what I've learned about Dr. Reinmar, by the time I get back to Lauren's place. It feels like I've hit a brick wall and the two people most likely to know more -- Dr. Reinmar and Uncle Nathan -- are the two people I don't want to approach. Especially now.

I need to talk to Emma and tell her what I've found out so we can decide what to do next. Tell her most of it anyway.

Lauren isn't home but my sister is upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms, lounging on the bed and reading a magazine. She's in the same black t-shirt and tight leather shorts she was wearing earlier, but she obviously did collect some stuff from home because her Bad Girl belt is slung around her waist and there's a couple of bags at the side of the bed. With a leather collar around her neck -- studded and ringed, not one of her usual ones - and glossy black boots on her feet to complete her look she definitely fits the part. She looks fantastic in her black outfit against the white sheets of the bed.

"Hey, Sis, whatcha doing?"

Emma puts down the magazine and gets up off the bed as I walk over. "Waiting for you to come back, so I can do this," she says, and takes hold of the lapels of my jacket to pull me into a kiss. Our tongues touch and retreat, touch and retreat, and then my sister stands on her toes and the next time our tongues touch they don't retreat.

We've been very hands on since I arrived at Lauren's yesterday evening. I guess we're just making the most of this time together to be as much of ourselves as we can be without constantly looking over our shoulders.

"You're looking very sharp."

"I was up at the Institute. Figured I might have to throw the family name around a bit so I dressed the part."

"I like it."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." Emma nuzzles into me. "Very authoritive. Like you're ready to put your bad girl sister over your knee and give her a good, hard spanking."

I reach down and squeeze her tight behind. You do have a great ass."

"It's all yours."

"I so don't deserve you."

"But you've got me," says Emma, and I pull her up into another kiss, my fingers sinking into the soft black leather of her shorts as she slides my jacket off my shoulders.

Then she pulls her head back and looks up at me. "Hold on," she says, in a different tone of voice, "what were you doing up at the Institute?"

Right now I'd really love to put off that question for a while, but I guess I better not.

"Yeah," I say, letting go of my sister, "That's a bit of a story..."

I finish shrugging out of my jacket and sit back on the bed, rolling my shoulders to work off the last of my aches from last night, and Emma sits beside me, propped up on her elbow. She listens as I tell her what the Bartons told me about Richard, and about Joseph. I don't mention the other allegations though. I don't intend to until I know for sure if it's true or not.

She doesn't say much. Then I tell her about my trip up to the Newley Institute and how I didn't find anything out about Joseph, but I did find out something about Dr. Reinmar. That's as far as I get. Emma asks me a couple of questions then reaches over to her bag and takes out her phone, looking up the same article I did earlier.

"'Genetic sexual attraction is a concept in which a strong sexual attraction may develop between close blood relatives,'" she reads out, pausing at the exact same word I did before continuing to the end of the sentence, "'who first meet as adults.'"

My sister shrugs. "So... not us then."

"You don't think it's strange?"

"What? That Dr. Reinmar has written an article about incest?"

I'm almost certain that it's the first time either of us have said that word out loud all summer. Hearing it from my sister's lips now sends a shiver down my spine, and another very different shiver up another part of me.

"It's a weird coincidence."

"It was over a year ago, right? Before she got the job at the Institute?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. A year ago I was still dating Greg. I wasn't even fantasising about you," she lets her tongue roll teasingly around in her cheek, "yet."

"That still blows my mind. That you did that."

"Only a couple of times." Emma grins as she reads on "'There is no evidence for genetic sexual attraction being an actual phenomenon,' it says here. It also says it's a pseudoscience, which is academic speak for bullshit."

"So how do you explain us?"

"Like this," says Emma, sliding down the bed to unzip my pants. I give a little groan as her fingers wrap around my cock and she quickly strokes me fully hard. She looks up at me as she trails her tongue around the head. "I just like sucking your cock."

"That's some way to win an argument, Sis."

Emma lowers her lips around my cock and teases the tip with her tongue before raising her head again. "Is it working?"

"Like it ever fails."

Emma nods and takes another light suck, her fingers stroking my length. "Good, because I'm your big sister, so I'm always right."

I give another low groan as she lowers her head back onto me, raising herself up on her knees to lift up her ass. I run my hands over Emma's ass again as she sucks comfortably and easily, murmuring softly around my length as I pat her shiny rear.

"You really do have a great ass, Sis."

Emma mumbles something in reply but with her mouth full of my cock I can't tell what she says. She moans again as I give her ass a couple of light slaps, the sound of my palm on the smooth leather surprisingly loud. My sister squirms and pushes her butt up higher as she pushes her head down and sucks more of my length into her mouth. I spank her again, a couple of times more, and she slides one hand down the front of her shorts.

She lifts her head again and then sits up on her knees, looking over at me with her hand still in her shorts working on her clit. "You know why I love sucking your cock so much, Jamie?" She doesn't wait for a reply. "Because it's your cock. It's my brother's cock."

She says it very intently, looking straight into my eyes.

I've felt it before, that sense that in some ways the two of us come at our relationship from different angles. For me sometimes the fact that Emma is my sister is the best thing in the world -- we're so close, we've got so much shared experience, we've got an incredible connection -- and sometimes it's the worst thing -- because our relationship would be so much easier if she was literally anyone else in the world. For Emma it's different -- I'm her brother and for her that's always the best thing.

I don't usually think about it much, because if I do I start wondering if we'd even be doing this if we weren't brother and sister. Would Emma even want to? I'd like to think so, but my sister is so fucking perfect I still look at her sometimes and ask myself what she really sees in me. Her coming out with this now, so full on, has me lost for words. I return her gaze, but I've no idea how to respond.

"My kinky sister..."

"Yes," Emma says, "your kinky sister," she repeats, and she puts a lot of emphasis on 'your' when she says it. "I'm not going to freak out when we talk about incest..." - fuck, the way she says that word is so fucking horny and needy - "...because I know exactly what we're doing, and every time I have my brother's cock inside me it feels so fucking good."

She holds my gaze for a long moment...

Then breaks into a grin.

Her expression, her voice, her body language, all of it instantly shifts from intense to playful. "You know, little brother," she says, "you're usually a lot quicker to pick up on it when I'm working up a scene."

Oh. Right.

It's one of the few ways in which we aren't always in tune with each other. When we're together we can easily fall into play -- very easily when we've got space and privacy -- and it's great, but half the time when my sister tries to get us into something that plays to her kinkier side (and mine) I miss my cues or forget my lines or one of us says or does something that makes the other one laugh at the wrong time. It doesn't always go like that, but often it does.

I think back to what we were doing before we started talking about the other things, then reach down and press my fingers into the soft bulge of her pussy, placing them over her own fingers which are still moving under the tight leather.

"Is this where my bad girl sister wants her brother's cock?"

"No."

The fuck?

Emma smirks at my expression. "Your bad girl sister wants her brother to bend her over and fuck her ass. Hard. Harder than he fucked her best friend last night."

I slide my other hand around her back and down to her butt, stroking and squeezing. "Sounds like my sister wants to go downstairs."

"I've got lube in my bag."

"You always carry that around?"

"Yes," she says, a teasing smile on her lips, "because I never know when I might have to be ready to take my brother's cock."

I give her leather-clad ass two quick, firm slaps. "Better get it then, Sis, and get those shorts off."

Emma grins.

"Whatever you say, Bro."

Emma slides off me again, turning away from me and sitting up on her knees. She looks back over her shoulder as as she slides her shorts down, baring her ass as I drag off my own clothes. I kneel behind her and run my fingers along the line of her pussy lips as she reaches over to her bag to get the lubricant. I brush her dark hair aside and kiss her neck above her leather collar, then below it.

"My sister forgot to wear panties today..."

"She didn't forget," Emma says in a horny, eager voice, passing the lube back to me, "she's just a slut."

The cool, slick touch of the lubricant makes her shiver as I work it into her tight rear. I push into her slowly -- fuck, she's so fucking tight -- and she leans back into me, reaching back to stroke her fingers up my sides as I ease my cock further up into her. My arms go around her, one hand finding her tits under her black t-shirt and the other moving up to her neck.

"Whose slut are you, Emma?"

"Yours, Jamie."

I start to fuck her, slowly and gently at first as her ass adjusts to my cock, and then harder as she lets herself fall forward, holding herself up with her fingers knotting in the white sheets of the bed. I slap her ass sharply and my sister groans and gasps as I pick up my pace. My fingers find her collar again, hooking into the small steel rings and pulling on it.

"Say it," I tell her.

"I'm your slut, Jamie," Emma moans. I pull on her collar again, harder and her next words come out in a horny, choking sob. "I'm my brother's slut..."

It's a new game, and Emma gets really into it. She gasps and whimpers and begs me to take her harder, to use her and make her cry, because she's a bad girl and a slut for her brother.

I do exactly what she wants, slapping her upturned ass and telling her to tell me what she is. My sister groans and shakes and calls herself every name she can think of. She's her brother's slut, her brother's whore, her brother's fucktoy. She's a slave to her brother's cock.

Another slap. "Say it again."

"Jamie..."

Another slap, and another. I pull hard on her collar again. "Say it again. Louder this time."

And she does, all the way to a long, and very loud, climax.

That's the other thing about this kind of play. It's always been really fucking hard to get into when we've been at home with our parents downstairs.

* * * * *

"Fuck, that was good."

"Yeah."

We're lying on the bed, side by side but touching only when our fingers brush together. Emma reaches up to her neck and traces her fingertips along the rim of her black leather collar, flicking the small metal rings idly.

"Is that new?"

"One of Lauren's."

I can believe that. "Looks sexy as fuck, Sis."

"I thought you'd like it."

"Well, you are my slave, right?"

Emma laughs and props herself up on her elbows. "Did I really say that?"

"Yup."

"Stop smirking, little brother."

I don't, so she shoves me, and I shove her back, and that turns into a playful tickling match which leads, without either of us thinking about it, into further play, though we're both laughing so much it's very different from what we were doing before.

It's just as great though.

It's very late in the afteroon by the time we freshen up and head downstairs to the lounge. I find a remote control which definitely doesn't have enough buttons for the array of home entertainment electronics in here, and Netflix eludes us, but we manage to turn on some music, and Emma settles back down against me with another magazine, her head resting on my thigh.

I'm still thinking about what we talked about earlier, and how Emma reacted. How she didn't react really, because she hardly said anything when I told her the rumors about Joseph Wilderwood, and her main response to the topic of genetic sexual attraction was to turn it into one of our games. I guess she's just letting herself sink into the relaxed, easy atmosphere of the weekend more than I am.

"I grabbed some clean clothes for you too, when I was at home," she says after a bit, "since we'll be here for a few days."

"Lauren's okay with that?"

"Yeah, she loves having us here. She's very invested in our relationship."

"I've noticed."

"She likes you a lot, but I do only tell her the good things. I don't tell her all the ways you annoy me."

"I do things that annoy you?"

Emma nods. "Of course you do. You're my little brother."

"Thanks, Sis."

"Anyway," she adds, "you were still my best friend when we were growing up. We got along so great back then."

"Until we didn't." In high school.

"Yeah."

"We did fight a lot."

I think back to the sword fight up at the Hall we had five or six years ago. Emma almost took my head off with a sabre and we thought that was hilarious (her more than me, admittedly) before we switched to the even older, and not quite as lethal, duelling swords.

"Yeah," she says, "but I knew you'd never hurt me."

I can still remember the sound of what may well have been Ethan Wilderwood's cavalry sabre whistling inches above my head, so I'm not sure I can say the same back, but the way my sister says it, accompanied by a soft smile up at me... Okay, at least she missed.

"My point is," she continues, "lots of girls end up falling for their childhood friends."

"Yeah, but lots of girls don't do that when their childhood friend is also their brother."

"Lots of girls don't know what they're missing."

Emma stirs lazily against me as we hear Lauren returning by the sound of her heels clicking on the smooth wood floor of the hallway. Then we hear her say something and another voice -- no, two of them -- replying.

My sister jerks up and slides quickly across to the other end of the couch, making a big show of reading her magazine while I sit up straighter and look casually in the other direction. Lauren walks into the room moments later.

"Hey, look who I found down in town," Lauren begins, then glances from my sister to me with her dark, knowing eyes. "Wow, you two are so bad at the innocent act," she says, then turns and winks at Zack and Lucy, who are walking in behind her.

* * * * *

It's like we're at the inaugural meeting of the Wilderwood's Secret Club. Lauren, Zack and Lucy have all known about us for a while now, but this is the first time we've all been together and it's just been the five of us. Lauren claims that she just ran into then but we don't believe it for a minute. I guess that's another reason why she's the Queen of the Coven -- she's a natural organiser. She's probably drawing up plans for passwords and secret handshakes.

With Zack and Lucy here I'm not sure that Emma and I are still the most unlikely couple in the room. If anyone in this town is the result of weird experiments up at the Institute to create the ultimate object of nerd desire it's not the Darby twins, it's Lucy. Zack's a good guy, but I still don't get what an openly bisexual, asian, goth/metal gamer girl, who reads comic books and plays in a band, sees in him. Lauren set that up too.

Even more than last night, when it was just the two of us chilling with Lauren, it's really comfortable having them all here, and we can enjoy just being able to hang out with our friends and be ourselves at the same time. As we lean against one of the countertops in Lauren's kitchen, watching as Zack and Lucy talk over what we'll have for dinner, Emma reaches out and takes my hand, interlocking her fingers in mine and squeezing softly, and her eyes are sparkling.

"Lauren," Zack is asking as he studies the contents of the fridge, "do you ever eat any of this food?"

Lauren makes a vague gesture. "Someone comes by to fill it up every few days. I mostly order out."

Which is also how the house is kept up. Cleaners come by once a week and, Lauren assures us with a straight face, a different set of cleaners come by on the same schedule to do the downstairs rooms. I'm finding it hard to believe that the town has a speciality dungeon cleaning service on call, but I guess all that smooth, polished wood and leather and metal must need a lot of maintenance.

Zack shakes his head in mild disbelief at Lauren's eating habits and, following a brief discussion with Lucy, they start pulling out fruit, vegetables, meat and fish and rice, and making selections from the array of pots, pans and utensils around the place, which is nearly as extensive as the kink armory below us. Magic has strolled in from wherever he's been prowling this afternoon, but only gets interested in the activity when Lucy starts slicing up the fish. He jumps onto a countertop and follows every movement with watchful amber eyes until we feed him.

Zack and Lucy seem to be having fun with it. There's a lot of taste testing off of each other's fingers.

"How about this?"

"You taste great." Zack pulls a face. "The sauce not so much."

"Yup."

"Maybe more of this?"

Lucy takes a bit longer than Zack did to make her mind up. Not that he's in any hurry, and neither is she.

"Yup," she says eventually, licking her lips. "That works."

They're so much more relaxed around each other than I've ever seen when Lucy has come by Pop! It's like with me and my sister here there's no reason for anyone else to be shy of public displays of affection. Or it's just the atmosphere of Lauren's house, which is such a contrast to anywhere else we know that it's easy to forget the world outside.

That's not really what surprises me most about watching them though.