Mary walked along the west corridor. Humming to herself as she hurried to show Cain the results of her tarot reading. She rarely bothered him anymore with such things. He prefered his privacy. But this was important...disturbing. As she got to his door she noticed it was cracked, which was odd considering Cain was so obsessed with his privacy. She peeked through the crack wondering if he was there.
There he was clad only in the pants of his riding leathers snoring ever so softly. She stifled a gasp. God he was beautiful. It wasn't really a "girlish" beauty, though he looked amazing in drag. It was more of an asexual beauty. Angular yet soft. Chisled yet flowing.
Like and angel perhaps....
Yes, he was her beautiful fallen angel. Dark silken hair, the creamy pale skin of an aristocrat, lithe well muscled body, and those eyes, dear God those eyes. Lost somwhere between gold and green they had a depth to them that could steal your soul in an instant. Oh how she wished to see them glazed over with lust.
Lust for her.
She knew it was wrong. Incest was a sin against all that is holy. Such thoughts would surely damn her for eternity, but she didn't care. She wasn't a little girl anymore and she knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel the touch of his naked flesh against hers. The taste of his kiss ater his evening glass of sherry. She wanted to run her fingers through those silken strands. She wanted him to touch her and make her feel like those women in Aunt Katina's 'dirty' romance novels. She wanted him.
And the little sister of an earl always gets what she wants.
She tip toed into his room, her silk stockings rasping againtst the old stone floor. She lowered herself softly and quietly as she could down onto the bed. She raised her hand as if to carress his face, but she jerked to a stop as his eyes flew open and a smirk formed on his lips.
"Mary dear, what do you think you are doing?" he asked softly. His voice rich and soft like chocolate.
She gasped and jerked her hand back into her lap.
"I...I...came to tell you about my tarot reading tonight!" She stuttered blushing furiously.
"Really? Well then what has you so flustered my dear sister?" He asked only half interested as she launched into what she had seen in her reading. He found himself staring at her again. As he pretended to listen in earnest, his gaze fell to her soft plump lips. He knew she didn't indulge in cosmetics as most women did. She didn't need to with lips already the colour of crushed berries. He felt himself harden, like he always did when he watched her speak, or eat, or even smile. That alone made him want to throw her on the bed and do things that would make those lips form his name over and over.
But...as always, he kept these things secret. He knew that if he ever spoke of such things to her, or anyone for that matter, that they would ostrasize him. She would fear the very sight of him and that he could never bear. He loved her too much.
As he comes back from his world of inner turmoil, he notices something a bit...well off about her face. There was a look in her eyes he'd never seen before. He blinked and it was still there. He felt a small smile form on his lips.
Was it...lust? Did his dear innocent little sister hold more than just familial love for him? No. It couldn't be. She would never harbor something so...twisted as that.
Would she?