"Holy hell, Elsa," a very pregnant Anna snarled, "you're a sick person."
Elsa turned her eyes away from her sister's massive belly, and feared the one person she thought would always love her. Surely that's just the hormones talking.
"Who looks at their own flesh and blood," the angry woman continued, "and thinks, 'I want to make babies with that'? I fucking hate you."
Worried, Elsa took her hand away from Anna's crotch. Where'd the happiness I felt 30 seconds ago go?
"Who said you could take that away?" Anna's hand clawed her blonde sister's, and shoved it back into splayed position over the fiery girl's crotch. Gulping, Elsa continued her strokes and clawings of Anna's folds and nub. Clearly, her sister's emotions weren't so stable at the moment.
"Like, I actually love you, dear sister. I never want you to be ashamed of this – of us."
Elsa's confused expression must've gotten through to the redhead, because Anna's gaze softened, and she pulled the blonde sister into a hug.
"I'm sorry, Els," she purred to a silent older sister, "I'm... I just need you. I -"
Anna took the pale hand away from her crotch, and placed it on her belly. She cried into her sister's smooth shoulder, even as she admired the toned back of her bread-winning love.
After coming back from medical school, Elsa took up a job in a nearby factory. She hoped to one day be an engineer. But the aches and tone of her body told where her true motives lay: supporting her partner. Who also happened to be her sister. Who was right; that she was truly sick, for looking at her own sister with romantic intentions.
But they truly loved each other, and this was where her true life's calling lay.
Elsa slept fitfully that night.