EVELYN

Dave and I weren’t just sharing stolen moments anymore, we had created our own little world, and in that world, we were unstoppable. It wasn’t just love; it was raw, unfiltered passion mixed with the comfort of knowing someone so deeply that nothing could be hidden. I stretched lazily across my bed, the scent of him still lingering on my sheets, a reminder of the night we’d shared.

My hand brushed against something beneath the pillow, I pulled out. It was his boxers. A sly smile crept across my face as I thought about the countless times he’d left them there, marking his presence in a way only I could see. Over the past few weeks, Dave had all but claimed my room as his second home.

But the nights? The nights were ours. We explored each other like travelers charting unfamiliar territory, no part was too small, and no desire was left untouched. It wasn’t just about the physical though, but truthfully, Dave was something else entirely in bed. His touch felt like poetry in motion, his whispered words igniting flames deep within me. He wasn’t just my brother, he was my lover, the kind that turned every fantasy into reality with a single look.

And maybe it was reckless, maybe it was dangerous, but sharing my room with him felt like the most natural thing in the world. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, not even the thrill of sneaking around.

He stepped out of my bathroom with an unbothered confidence, his body glistening faintly from not properly dried water. His dick dangled heavily, his scrotum swaying gently with each step, a display so casual yet utterly commanding. Dave wasn’t just walking; he was owning the room, and somehow, owning me without a single word.

I couldn’t help but smile, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as my gaze shamelessly trailed down his body. My chest tightened, not from embarrassment but from the sheer power he held over me in that moment. How can be brother be this stunning?

My friends always said sex was supposed to hurt, like it was some necessary price to pay for pleasure. But they’d never felt what I did with Dave. Every moment we shared was etched into my memory like a masterpiece, so unforgettable. Pain? That word didn’t exist in the world we created together. He made sure every touch, every kiss, and every stroke spoke a language of its own.

Dave wasn’t just good at what he did, he was a master. A sex god, if I dared to say it out loud. My sex god. He knew exactly how to touch me, he seemed to anticipate my every need before I even had to voice it, how to unravel me piece by piece until I was nothing but a trembling mess beneath him. He made me feel worshipped, desired, loved— just name it, anything you can think of. And the way he looked at me during those moments wasn't even from this world? Like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

We’d explored so many fantasies together, things I’d never thought I’d even speak about, let alone try. But with Dave, it felt natural. Safe. Like I could let go of every inhibition and just be myself, knowing he’d never judge me.

Last night had been no exception. I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my body, the way his lips trailed down my spine, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His voice, low and rough with desire, echoed in my ears.

“Morning, sister,” he said, closing my bathroom door.

“Morning? It’s almost noon,” I teased, sitting up and crossing my arms.

He shrugged, walking over and flopping onto the bed beside me. “What can I say? Someone kept me up all night.”

“Hmm, wonder who that could be,” I said, feigning innocence.

He reached for me, pulling me onto his lap and wrapping his arms around me. “You know exactly who,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck.

I leaned into him, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “You really shouldn’t be here,” I said, though my tone lacked any real conviction.

“And yet, here I am,” he replied, grinning against my skin.

“Angel…” He mimicked dad’s tone, his grin widening.

I couldn’t help but laugh, smacking his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

He wasn’t wrong. I did love it, all of it. The teasing, the late nights, and the way he paid so much attention to me.

“You know,” he said, his tone turning serious as he looked into my eyes. “I’d give up anything for you. You know that, right?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. “I know,” I whispered.

“Good,” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Because you’re stuck with me now, sister,” he said poking my lips slightly.

“And I don’t think I can ever get tired of you, baby,” he murmured, his lips grazing the curve of my neck, his breath warm and intoxicating. It wasn’t just his words; it was the way he said them, like fucking assuring

“That makes us two,” I whispered, tilting my head to give him full access, even though my body was already humming from exhaustion. We’d lost count of how many times we’d given in to each other in the midnight, but I didn’t care. He kissed me like he could breathe life into me, and I let him. Always.

Dave slipped the duvet down my body, his touch both tender and teasing as his fingers grazed my skin. He cupped my breast, stroking it gently before lowering his head, his lips trailing kisses that sent shivers through me. When his mouth found my nipple, he flicked it with his tongue, drawing a gasp from me that I barely managed to stifle. His free hand wandered lower, slipping between my legs, his fingers finding my plush, swollen clit with expert precision.

I was melting into him, my body already arching instinctively to his touch, when an abrupt knock at the door shattered the moment. My eyes shot open, and my heart froze. Dave’s hands stilled, and we exchanged a panicked look, both of us suddenly wide awake.

“But thinking of it, why hasn't dad come knocking?”

“Sweetheart, are you in there?” It was Dad’s voice, steady but laced with curiosity.

“Speaking of the devil,” I said smiling into his mouth.

The funniest and most ridiculous part of it all? This wasn’t even the first time we’d had to scramble like this. Dave and I had become experts in the art of hiding. The sheer adrenaline of those moments made them oddly unforgettable. Whether it was him diving into the closet, slipping under the bed, or darting into the bathroom, the whole routine had become a chaotic game of survival we couldn’t seem to escape.

I motioned frantically for him to move, and Dave, still naked, slid off the bed, scooping his clothes in one quick motion. He darted toward the bathroom, muffling a laugh as he went. I hastily pulled the duvet up to my chin, trying to look as composed as possible, even though my cheeks were flushed, and my pulse was racing.

“Yeah, Dad?” I called out, forcing my voice to sound calm as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

“Just checking in on you, haven't seen you since morning,” he said.

“Just watching a movie,” I lied effortlessly, praying he wouldn’t push the door open. I could still hear Dave stifling his breath behind the bathroom door, and the absurdity of it all almost made me laugh.

Mom might have been away, but Dad was proving to be just as nosy, and these moments of near discovery added a wild, mischievous edge to our already unconventional love story.

We were like children playing in a forbidden playground. And I am glad he was the one.