Greetings! Before I get into anything having to do with this chapter, I really have to say, I appreciate the reviews. I was wondering if maybe I'd lost the interest I garnered when first working on this, but knowing I haven't is so encouraging.
I know SilverHeartt left a review asking me to dedicate this chapter to her, which I'll very willingly do. I'm so glad you were excited to read it! And about writing being an outlet, it definitely is for me. It's one of the few things to keep me sane, but I lose my focus easily. Sometimes oneshots are easier to manage but I truly am dedicated to this story. Thank you so much for your thoughts.
Also, a few people keep saying, and I find this endlessly amusing, how they feel wrong for finding this sort of story intriguing or hot because of the incest. I struggle with this so much while writing, but I really can't find it in myself to feel bad. I'm a very open writer and I think loads of people find appeal in taboo topics. It's human nature.
In addition, I was planning on only making this story ten chapters long initially, but I've already planned out far past that. I'm thinking somewhere around twenty as of right now.
Okay, on to this chapter. It's in Clare's perspective only, and for a very specific reason. Remember I promised some smut? Well...I made good on that, ha.
Enjoy. Reviews make me smile.
After what feels like hours of paperwork, I finally walk through the double doors of my new school, my hands reaching to zip up my jacket as the wind whips through me. I should have better prepared myself for this, at least mentally.
"Your parents? They're supposed to register you."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, Miss Edwards. Who are you living with right now? Do you have a guardian?"
"...Your brother? That's...well, I suppose that'll do. He needs to fill out these forms about your medical history and such, vaccinations, so on and so forth."
I couldn't stand the look of pity she gave me at the mention of my mother. I was only stating that she'd passed because if I hadn't, nothing else would have made sense. My reason for transferring from Toronto, why I'm currently living with Eli... The information seemed necessary, but I didn't willingly fork it over. I never do.
At her mention of my father, I merely scowled and she seemed to accept that, quickly dropping the subject and instead going off on a tangent about returning the paperwork to her as soon as possible. At least she had tact in that respect.
I realize that no one can read my mind and know right off the bat what I'm facing. If only. But there's still a very large part of me that's too sensitive to talk about my mom, even to Eli. At times, he'll ask about how we were between the time that he left and the time that she passed, but I don't have it in me to reply.
I already feel her memory slipping from me.
I don't remember what her eyes look like, even though everyone always told me they were a mirror image of my own. I don't recall the sound of her voice, how it sounded when she'd call for me from downstairs for dinner. I have a few voicemails left but even those sound off. Knowing there's no longer a voice like that in the world, that the gentle echoing doesn't belong to a living soul on Earth, it doesn't sit well with me.
I feel the recollection of just about every comfort I've ever known leaving me. Freshly washed laundry, the scent of the detergent wafting through the air, gone. The way her hand felt holding my much tinier one as she walked me to elementary school, gone. The click of her heels rapping against the kitchen floor when she got home from work, gone. Gone, gone, and there's nothing left to grasp onto.
Sometimes I feel like if I talk about her, I'll be losing those last few pieces of her that I do have. I'm not willing to part with them. Not for anyone, not even Eli.
I pull myself out of my deep reverie, a chill traveling through my body as I stand still. It's hard to imagine myself attending a new school, but by next Monday, I will be. I'll admit; it's a bit more than incredibly intimidating. I've never been a people person, always choosing to stick to myself and a few close friends.
Everyone here already has their cliques, the people they like to be around. Where will I fit into that equation? I can already feel wallflower status being crowned upon me, but I suppose it's better than it could be. I'd prefer it over verbal punching bag for the student body.
The walk home is quick, much to my relief. I've lost my way several times while in the city thus far, and every time but one, I've managed to find my way back. The one time it didn't work out so well was a week back. Luckily, Eli had just finished up with his last class and found me amongst the towering city buildings, each one looking the same as I lost my way.
The whole ride back, he teased me for having no sense of direction. But I ended up getting him back by kissing his neck as he drove. At least until he barked at me to stop because he was swerving in the road.
It's still surreal to me – the duality of our relationship. On the one hand, he truly is my brother. In blood, in bond, everything. But the way he looks at me, there's a hunger behind his gaze at times, and others, a tenderness that I know is only shared between lovers.
I have trouble drawing the line between what's appropriate and what isn't at certain times, but so far, he doesn't seem to mind. We greet each other at the door with kisses and long embraces, lovesick and pining for one another. I hang off of him like a tumor and I don't hear a peep in opposition from him about it. We cook dinner together and he tickles me while I wash the dishes, claiming his mere company while doing so is helpful enough.
Eli isn't an ideal roommate, but I wouldn't trade him in for anything.
I've never pictured myself in a relationship, always figuring I'd botch up my chances of cultivating one before it ever came to fruition. But this...it's unlike anything else. The compatibility. Perhaps it comes with our shared blood and the years we've spent together, but I'd imagine most couples don't feel this level of connection. The depth of it all.
He makes me feel like I'm Ally and he's Noah. Like I'm getting that legendary love I've always pined after. But he beats any idealistic man Mr. Sparks could conjure up. His wit, his compassion, his intellect, it bests every other man I've known – ones made of fact and fiction alike.
Being with him in this intimate, close way makes me wonder what he ever shared with Imogen. From the moment I met the girl, her cat-like, sly movements rubbed me the wrong way. Those pigtails didn't persuade me of her implied innocence. They almost seemed to contradict the vibe she gave off; one that was equal parts quirky and calculating.
Her perfume always overpowered the apartment while she was there, and goodness, I never thought someone could moan so loudly. At times, I wondered it if was merely a show to make me uncomfortable, (which it certainly did) or if she was truly so overcome with pleasure at my brother's hand.
For all her theatrics, Eli did seem fond of her, for a time. He still hasn't told me about what spurred their demise, the things that led up to their separation. Each time I try to ask, he waves his hand dismissively, muttering something along the lines of, "Nothing you need to know, Clarebelle, drop it." So I do. But my curiosity hasn't waned one bit on the matter.
Eli's always quick to keep me in the dark on things, and I can be honest in saying that irks me. He's always been a secretive man, the inner workings of his mind impossible to imagine since he never bothers to shed any light on it. I know better than to question him, but I also know that if we keep things up as we have been, I'll have earned the right to get a few answers in due time.
It's one of those things that I keep referring to as a bridge internally, one that I'll cross whenever I reach it. That is, if Eli will be willing to indulge my curiosity.
All my inner musing has led me to my door before I realized it, the fact only dawning on me as I fish in my purse out of muscle memory for my keys.
Before I can even put it into the keyhole, the door opens by some unknown force, which I soon realize is Eli. He wears a wide smile, much like the ones he has been the past week or so upon arriving home to each other.
"I was beginning to think you lost your way again." he says softly, a teasing tone in his words. I shake my head, poking his nose with my pointer finger.
"I can occasionally fend for myself you know. This city isn't as scary as I previously thought." Placing my bag down on the crappy futon that I don't miss sleeping on one bit, I sigh out loudly. This finally feels like home, if only for the fact that Eli now feels like home. His arms, his cologne, his dry and always quick humor, they're all things I pine for while I'm away.
I feel him come up behind me, coiling his arms around my abdomen. I hum out in approval as he starts bestowing kisses on my neck, biting down slightly on my pulse point.
"Did you get yourself registered?"
"Indeed I did." My hands find his, threading our fingers together as we begin swaying slowly.
He goes back to kissing my skin, his breath tickling me as he speaks."Were they nice there?"
"About as nice as secretaries at a high school would be. A little on the nosy side when I was telling them my home situation, but I tried to grin and bear it."
He falls silent for a moment, and I can tell he's on the same train of thought I was right after I left the school. Even if Eli doesn't say it, I know he's still gaining his bearings on this situation too.
Though silently, he's grieving our mother's death. He's never been the type to express his pain, but I can hear it when he mumbles in his sleep. I'll never get used to the way he twitches in his slumber, his lips turning every which way as he mutters to himself senselessly. He looks like a man unhinged, lost in the tangled web of his own blackened mind. Sleep is the best time for his fears to attack, his subconscious as vulnerable as a child.
The word "Mom" is permanently rooted into his vocabulary while he dreams.
Her absence is the thing that divides Eli and I the most. We both seek out the comforts she once offered us in each other, but when we come up mostly empty in seeking it out, the void is mutually felt.
Deciding I can't handle the heavy thoughts any longer, I squeeze his hands in my own, nuzzling my cheek against his slightly stubbly one. "I hope you like paperwork! As my legal guardian, you're required to fill them out."
He groans into my neck, my hands then unraveling his arms from me as I reach into my bag to retrieve them.
"No- no," he mumbles, stopping me from digging through my bag for the manilla folder the woman gave me. "Not tonight, please? Tomorrow morning, I swear. I'll get it all filled out for you. But tonight, I have a surprise for you."
This piques my curiosity effortlessly, my body then turning to face his. "Oh?"
Lifting his brows to me, I watch his bow shaped lips curve up into a smirk, one that only fuels my curiosity further. "A date."
My eyes roll dramatically, knowing what his definition of a date is. "Eli, if you wanted to watch Netflix and make out for a few hours, you could have just told me." I laugh, but the look on his face stops me.
"A real date, Clare." he clarifies, his lips morphing into a genuine smile. "We're going to have to drive a bit out of town for it, just to be safe, but I mean a real date."
"You mean dinner, dessert, the works?"
He nods. "Like an actual couple, yes." My heart begins jumping for joy in the confines of my chest.
I stand in stunned silence, a dorky smiling adorning my face as I look at him. This wasn't what I expected in the least, perhaps the very last thing I expected from my brother, but I can't say I'm displeased.
"What are you still standing here for? Go get dressed!" he states enthusiastically, kissing my cheek and then patting my butt, ushering me into our room.
"Get dressed? In what?"
Now rolling his own eyes, he grabs my shoulders, walking me into the room. "A dress, perhaps? We're not going to a cheapo restaurant, mon amour." His French never fails to send chills up my spine, especially the more loving phrases like that one.
My smile only widens as we enter the bedroom, his hands leaving me to close the door behind us. I walk over to our shared closet, peering at my side. "Which dress should I wear, Eli?" I grab two, holding them against me. One is black, about knee length with a simple red bow belt to cinch it in. The other is blue, with tiny white flowers scattered all over it. It comes up a bit shorter, but admittedly happens to be my favorite of the two.
He scrutinizes both for a moment, his eyes finally landing on the blue and white one. "While my first reaction is to pick something black, I want to see how this one fits on you." He reaches for the blue and white dress, taking it in his hands as I return the other to the closet.
But as I turn back to get the dress, I notice the look in his eyes and realize I won't be dressing myself at all. The green in his eyes bore down into my blue, the stare so intense that it sends a spark through my entire body. He makes me lust after him so effortlessly, one simple look hooking me in. I feel him toying with the hem of my shirt before lifting it off my torso gently, then throwing it down on the bedroom floor.
"Eli...? Do we even have time for this?" I ask carefully as he begins kissing my neck again, wondering if he'd made reservations for the night or not.
"We have a half hour, baby," he whispers huskily, the word 'baby' making me clench my thighs together in frustration. Sometimes it's still hard to believe that I get this side of Eli all to myself now, that his body and everything he can do to mine is an open book for me, waiting to be explored.
We haven't gone much past the limits of fondling and clothed dry humping for lack of a better term, but I'm eager to push past that. He's been very careful with me, both because I'm new to this whole world of intimacy, and because I'm his sister. He can deny the latter fact as much as he wants. I know there's still a very strong sense of guilt he fends off every time he touches me.
Sometimes, I wish we weren't related, so he could embrace me without that venomous doubt coursing through his thoughts, invading his conscience. But then I realize that our shared blood is at least half of the appeal, if not more.
Tonight though – tonight – he seems to have forgotten his usual reluctance, his hands wandering wherever they please without the slightest bit of hesitance. He receives no fight on my part as his hands work over my bare back, down to my ass. He gropes me firmly, pulling my pelvis up towards his.
His hands are so manly, there's just so much of them as he fondles me, touching me in just the right places. Eli knows every secret to a woman's body, I've realized. He knows the things that make them mad with need and frenzied with passion. I feel slightly jealous when I ponder how he acquired such impressive knowledge, but cast aside the thoughts as quickly as I can.
That's his past. I'm his present.
Before I know it, his hands are down my pants, gripping my behind before coming back around the front, his fingers skillfully and seamlessly undoing the button on my jeans, then unzipping it. I kick off my shoes and pull off my socks before taking off my pants, the speed of my motions picking up with each passing second.
I look to him, standing in just my undergarments, and I notice he's undressing as well. It isn't long before we're in the same articles we've been sticking to since this started. I'm not sure what holds Eli back from stripping me of all clothing. I'm definitely not about to stop him, but he seems cautious in seeing me bare.
Again, his conscience takes a massive beating each time we get close. I can see it and feel it in every one of his reactions to me.
To test this, my hands go to my back, fumbling slightly with my own clasp before he reaches to my arms, pulling them away. "No, not right now." he coos, pressing his lips to the side of my head gently.
"But...why not?" I whine, realizing I'm almost feeling rejected in a sense. If I was Imogen, I'd already be naked and he'd be nailing me into the bed.
The complete lack of censorship in my thoughts leaves me taken aback, my own eagerness to progress things with him entirely foreign. I'm a rookie even with kissing, never mind much else. But Eli just brings out this hunger in me, this insatiable need to feel more, do more, become more.
"Isn't the point to get you dressed?" he chuckles, trying to excuse his own reluctance by covering it up with a true, but unimportant, fact.
"But," I stutter out again, my hands wrapping around his neck as I press myself closer to him. He leans down, catching my words in a heated kiss before I can spit out my thought.
His hands smooth up and down my back, one reaching along to the waistband of my panties. "What, you want more?" I hate his teasing tone and I hate giving in even more, but something tells me the only way to get what I want from him is to feed his ego.
I nod silently.
"Tell me where." Eli whispers, and I feel my eyes widening at his demand.
"Y-you know where." I try to reason, my face turning a merciless shade of red. I avert my gaze, letting it land anywhere at all. Anywhere but on his knowing eyes.
Tucking his hand under my chin, he lifts my head up to meet him, so I can't avoid his gaze anymore. "I'll touch you anywhere you want, Clare. Just tell me where."
I hate him. I hate him and his taunting tone, his tempting lips and his talented fingertips.
I hate his smoldering stare and his grip over my rational mind.
Most of all, I hate how I find myself reaching for his hand, cautiously placing it between my legs.
"T-there." I breathe out, leaning my head against his as I shudder, his fingertips beginning to brush against my center.
With a chuckle, he peers down at me, his lips crooked with mischief on his mind. "Oh, here." he marvels, pressing the pad of his thumb against my clit. Even through my underwear, I'm hyper sensitive to his touches, my cheeks inflamed and my heart thumping erratically. I can tell I'm already wet, his tormenting more than enough to arouse me.
My curls fan around my face, my jaw falling agape as he continues his ministrations, rubbing me outside of the material. "Remember that time I walked in on you touching yourself?" he inquires with a sinister grin, his palm pressing against me now.
"I- I recall something of that nature h-happening." I manage, my eyes fluttering closed.
I thrust into his hand but he doesn't relent, my breasts beginning to strain against my bra as my breathing picks up.
"Do you know how fucking hot that was? How badly I wanted to be the one getting you off?" There's more force behind his movements now, and a small whine leaves me.
"Eli, please. Just, please." My words aren't coming out correctly at all but he knows what I'm saying, reaching into my underwear without question.
Once his fingers meet with my wet flesh, I cry out, reaching shakily for his arms; anything stable to keep me grounded while he unravels me.
"I never thought I'd see that in my entire life." he mutters, his middle finger probing at my entrance teasingly. My hips buck up a bit, attempting in vain to force his finger inside, but he won't let me. This is his game, and I can tell he's going to play it however he pleases.
Slowly he slides it in, my hips jerking towards him as I push more of his finger inside, and he smirks at me. "Eager, are we?" His thumb settles on my clit as he pulls his digit in and out, rubbing on the hardened bud to stimulate me.
"The moment I got in my room, I couldn't help but jerk myself off, Clare. I kept picturing you and your fingers your tight little snatch, your little whimpers and your fucking hips lifting off the mattress." His hot breath hitting my ear turns me on more than I ever thought imaginable. I had no idea him catching me like that got to him, so much that he had to touch himself immediately after.
He leans in closer to me, catching my earlobe between his teeth and bearing down. "I wanted your legs spread like that for me. I wanted to finger you until I had you begging me to make you cum." The look in his eyes is rapturous, the green in his eyes darkening as he glances down between us, watching my breasts bounce with his movements.
My chest heaves, his finger curling at just the right angle to make me gasp, my center throbbing in need. I have myself convinced by now that his fingers are pure magic. His carnal, raw desire mirrors that of my own. I never knew what pleasure truly was before this man, and I never want to know another beside the brand he can so skillfully deliver.
My knees are unstable and wobbly, my hands gripping onto Eli for dear life as he picks up the pace, his finger pumping in and out of me effortlessly. I feel him walking us backward until we hit one of the bedroom walls, my body nearly sinking down it as he fingers me. With his free hand he moves to my clit, his thumb brushing over it repeatedly as the other continues to work at me.
"Eli," I pant out, my eyes widening at him desperately. "I need, I-"
Along with his middle finger, he slides his index in, pumping them both inside me with blinding speed. Desperate moans and whimpers leave me as I rock against his hand, feeling my climax coming up, almost within reach.
"Let it go for me, baby. Let it all out." Eli rasps, his voice is thick and rich, drenched in lust. Each slip of his digits coaxes out my orgasm, my body tensing from head to toe as it finally hits. I convulse against the wall, my voice echoing and bouncing off the walls as I call out his name. He doesn't stop his movements for even a second, pushing me farther and farther into the sensation, helping me to ride it out.
After it retreats, he slowly withdraws his hand from my panties and I clutch onto him, my head falling to the crook of his shoulder. We stay quiet for a moment as he presses gentle kisses to my head, my body trembling in his arms. I've never had a reaction quite so strong, aftershocks of the pleasure still crawling under my skin, working their way into my bones.
Once I find it in myself to catch his eye, I can't help but note the distinct satisfaction living within his gaze. But this time, it's not one of smug pride. It's as though he sincerely wanted to be responsible for my undoing, for such an incredible rush. He surely was. I'm quickly realizing that in no time, I'll end up begging for such treatment on a regular basis.
I finally calm down and let out a small laugh, a little bashful after such an intense experience. Eli glances over at the clock in our room, fifteen minutes having passed since we last checked it. "Shit." he mumbles, smiling and shaking his head. "We're going to be late for our reservation if we don't get our asses moving. Think you can handle yourself after that?"
I push my curls from my forehead, noticing how clammy my skin is. "I need a quick shower, my goodness." Snatching my dress up from the bed where Eli placed it before, I huff out a breath. "I'll be right out, okay?"
Turning my back, I skip out towards the door but feel a tug on my hand, Eli pulling me back towards him. Wordlessly, he presses his mouth to mine, holding me there for a moment. As he pulls away, he nods once, then releasing his grip on my hand. I find the intensity of his warmth, the sincere kindness looking back at me holds me captive for a few seconds longer, until I find it in me to turn away. Hurrying off to shower before our first official date, I can't fight off the grin working its way onto my lips. My heart trembles and flies around like a small creature in my chest, keeping a tempo that I bet matches that of his own.
