Whispers

Whispers

Pairings: Fuuma Manou/Kotori Manou
Summary: Some family secret are best kept within the family...
ANY warnings: Incest, semi-AU. Consider yourself warned.
A/N: Beta by aome. Thanks Plu!


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It was their own little secret.

It had started innocently. She remembered the day clearly, as if it was yesterday. It was the night their mother had died. She had been inconsolable, and he had come to her then. They had huddled on her narrow bed, crying silent tears, and somehow his presence had allayed her grief. He had stayed with her through the night, clasping her in his thin arms, kissing her forehead gently, and whispering soothing words until they finally fell into a slumber.

He had been her pillar of strength, her source of comfort, and her protector. If their father had paid more attention, he would have noticed the subtle changes in the children. However, he was too deep in his own grief to care.

As they grew older, it became a ritual for them to seek each other out when they needed comfort. She would tiptoe to his room, and he would lift his blankets, inviting her to his side. She would crawl into his bed, and he would gather her in his arms. She would rest her head on his chest, her delicate hands curved around his torso and he would stroke her hair gently. They never spoke, but their actions spoke volumes. In the morning, before dawn broke, she would sneak back to her room.

At school, he was obsessively protective of her. Her admirers, while many, could only worship her from afar. His forbidding demeanour ensured that no one fooled with or hurt his sister, and no one dared face histh. th. She was his, and they knew it.

Some days when his body was all tensed up after sports at school, he would turn up in her room, and she’d obediently massage away his tension. Her fingers, slick with oil, would work their magic on his muscles, undoing the knots, soothing away the pain. He’d close his eyes and smile. Her weight on the small of his back comforted him. His back done, she’d touch him gently on the shoulder, signalling for him to turn over. She’d climb onto his thighs, her long tresses framing her angelic face as her palms splayed out on his lower stomach. Then, her fingers worked their magic again.

She would straddle him; the outline of her young body tantalising underneath her semi-transparent nightgown, and the warmth of her inner thighs pressing gently against his outer thighs. Sometimes, he couldn’t help his body from reacting. He’d reach up to touch her face then, and she would silently lift the nightgown over her head. She would be naked except for her pair of white panties. She would then continue to massage his front, her fingers running circles on his chest, his shoulders, his neck, while his hands stroked the soft flesh of her thighs. They worked silently, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

His oil-slicked hands would span her narrow waist, moving up her ribs, to gently touch her budding breasts. She’d shift forward, until she was sitting on his stomach, her hair falling over them like a curtain. His hands never left her body, always gently caressing her silken skin.

As they grew older, she had willingly allowed him to use her body as he sought for release. He’d cling to her tight, his face buried in her hair as he rubbed himself against her stomach. They’d bite their lips to muffle their mutual moans of pleasure.

As she blossomed into a beautiful young lady, and he into a strapping young man, their lovemaking became more frequent, and more intense. He had always been a considerate lover, making sure she had her pleasure before he mounted her, burying himself deep in her warmth. They had been careful not to leave any marks, or to make any noise. And the one time when they had an ‘accident’ and she was late, he had worried along with her. It turned out to be a false alarm, but it taught them to be more careful.

Time passed.

Fate had been cruel and had taken their father away. Now there were only the two of them. And as she buried her head on his lap, crying silent tears over their father’s passing, he had felt the same fierce protectiveness ¯ or was it possessiveness? He cout tet tell ¯ overwhelming him. She had cried herself into exhaustion, and then they had made love on the living room floor, each trying to comfort the other, lost in their mutual despair.

I will protect you, to my end, he promised as they lay intertwined in each other’s arms. She had smiled then, safe in his arms.

But Fate, being the fickle thing She was, had a much crueller plan in store for them. However, for the moment, they were content.

~ END ~

scourgify © 25th January 2004

THERE WILL BE NO FLAMES TOLERATED BY THE AUTHOR. While feedback is much appreciated, if you have nothing nice/encouraging to say, don\'t say anything at all. It is as simple as that. If the fic doesn\'t float your boat, DON\'T READ IT! Be sensible...we are responsible human beings; act like it. -- me.