Yikes, sorry this took so much longer than what I originally said. This was my first attempt at Luigi/Amber, so let me know what you think. Sorry if it's a bit OOC. I hope everybody enjoyed this fic :)
OoO
"Brother dearest..."
Some nights just started out like this, with Amber whispering in Luigi's ear and grabbing none-too-gently at his crotch. By now, Luigi reacted on instinct (which was good, because Luigi believed that thinking was a waste of valuable time,) spinning to grab his sister roughly by the shoulders and shove her up against the nearest hard surface (which in this case happened to be the corridor wall.)
"Popped your stitches again?" Amber inquired breathily as her and Luigi's bodies found a familiar rhythm.
"Shut up," Luigi snarled into Amber's neck, biting down hard for emphasis (she tasted like chemicals and overripe strawberries,) "I hate it when you talk."
Amber was right, though; Luigi had fouled up his stitches again (strained himself while taking a few stabs at a reporter. Stupid.) He was sorted out now, thanks to the SurGENs, and Amber appeared to be coming from an adjacent operating room, all flouncy white lace and fresh skin grafts. Luigi knew how horny his sister got after these kinds of surgeries (said she was extra-sensitive, tingly.)
"Well let's see if we can't ruin them again," Amber hummed, despite her brother's evasion. She wound her hands under Luigi's button-down shirt and dug her fingernails (newly implanted, manicured) into a line of scar tissue on his torso.
"You're fucked up," Luigi growled, rough but with a hint of approval.
Amber laughed, high and giddy. "We can afford to be depraved."
Luigi grunted (bitch had a point) and placed his hands at either side of her needlessly frilly bodice. Unceremoniously, he gripped the hemline and tore the flimsy white fabric down the middle, from the ribbed bustier top to the trimming of ivory tulle that served as a skirt. As the garment ripped, Amber made a sound of annoyance.
"Careful, asshole."
"Make me, slut."
Both Largos grinned. Luigi teased a couple of the stitches over Amber's collarbone between his teeth, while Amber tugged open her brother's shirt, destroying multiple buttons in the process. Then, she raked her fingernails down his back to leave lines of red that would certainly be there tomorrow.
"Enough foreplay," Amber gasped, "let's get horizontal."
"Where—"
"The operation room."
"Smart girl."
Knew there was a reason she was running this place, Luigi thought (though he would never say such a thing out loud. Regardless, Luigi grabbed his sister, tossing her over his shoulder like it was nothing and carrying her into the nearby surgery room. Amber giggled madly, kicking her feet out and accidentally knocking over a jar of blood samples with a stiletto heel, long and wickedly pointed as one of Luigi's beloved knives. The glass shattered against the operating table, and Luigi brushed the glittering slivers off the metal surface before throwing Amber down on it (cause he was a gentleman like that.) Neither sibling minded the red spillage that coated the table; as far as they were concerned, blood was the best sort of lubricant.
"And now look at all the toys we have to play with," Amber purred, slanting a heavy-lidded glance (fake lashes covered with glitter) at the tray of scalpels, syringes, and other medical apparati lined up and gleaming beside the table.
And it was just then that Luigi had an unexpected (admittedly kind of creepy) flash of Amber, back when she was just a kid—but she was Carmella then. Luigi remembered a day (God, so long ago) when Carmella had come up to him, crying, because some boy on the street had grabbed her breast. Luigi had broken both of the little prick's arms. Now, Carmella—No, Amber, dammit—was hooking her long, booted legs around Luigi's waist, slick black leather caressing his bare waist. And hell, she looked so different, with all those damn surgeries warping her face and body, but when Luigi really looked, he could still see Carmella in Amber's face. Good thing he didn't usually try all that hard.
Because it was almost impossible to imagine those two girls as being one, Amber and Carmella. They were just not the same. But Luigi knew it didn't matter, really, what incarnation of herself Amber Sweet was, or what face she chose to wear; he loved his psychotic bitch of a little sister.
