Chapter Text
In retrospect, Benedict should have learnt that coming home early was never a good idea.
He really should have.
Coming in from a chilly December day, it was quite hot inside the flat, and he shrugged off his jacket before taking off his sweater.
Eloise must have turned the heating up to the maximum.
Still, he’d survive.
She deserved some warmth during her winter break, she was basically shaking each time she came home from her classes, and Benedict knew she wanted to soak up all the heat possible now that there was no reason for her to go outside until their trip to their family home next week.
Benedict slipped off his shoes and headed towards the kitchen for a glass of water, before stopping in his tracks at the sight.
The door was only slightly opened, but it was enough to see Eloise humming and cleaning on her knees, looking like something out of a cliché porn clip.
She was wearing tight, thin shorts, so thin he could see the shape and colour of her thong through them, and Benedict nearly groaned.
He had believed that he was safe from such clothing until next summer, yet here she was, wiggling her arse in front of his face, unaware that she had an audience.
He should turn around.
He definitely shouldn’t be standing there and watching her like a creep, yet he was unable to take his eyes off her.
God, she was perfect.
A goddess.
A mermaid.
His curse and his doom.
Benedict was mesmerized as she swayed her hips sensually to the beat of whichever song she was humming, tempting and seducing him without even knowing or trying, and just when he finally found an atom of strength to move away, she spoke.
“I know you’re there, Benedict,” Eloise said, making him freeze as she slowly got up and turned towards him.
“S-sorry, I was just getting a glass of water, but I didn’t want to interrupt,” he stammered, finally entering the kitchen and making his way towards the fridge. Yet when he had gulped the water down and turned towards her, he found her staring at his crotch, where he was shamefully, undeniably hard.
He wished that the earth would swallow him, wished he could be anywhere but here, moments before his world would fall apart.
He waited for the disgust to form on her face, waited for her to scream, or hit him, or say she was moving out, but she did none of those things.
She simply stared, gulping slowly, without uttering a word.
A part of him wanted to cover his crotch with his palms, hide his hardness from her gaze, but what good would it do?
The damage was already done.
“I’m sorry, Eloise, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice pained from the ache of everything he would now finally be losing because of his weakness. “I’ll leave right away, you don’t ever have to see me again.”
He already started moving towards the kitchen’s door when he was stopped by a loud, almost desperate “wait!”
His legs froze immediately, seemingly unable to disobey her despite knowing what was waiting for him.
She wouldn’t let him leave without telling him what she thought about him, before calling him sick, twisted, perhaps hitting him.
That was alright.
He deserved all that she threw at him and more.
She couldn’t call him anything worse than he had already called himself.
They were close now, closer than they had been earlier, and Eloise closed the remaining distance between them in a few short steps.
She lifted her arm and Benedict braced himself for a slap, but all air left his lungs as she instead gently lowered her fingers to his cheek, stroking it with featherlight touches.
“What... what are you doing?” Benedict murmured, doing his best not to let himself close his eyes and lean into her soft touch.
“Maybe I’m sick for wanting this, I probably am, but I am tired of pretending,” Eloise responded, and she couldn’t possibly be saying what it sounded like she was saying.
“Pretending what?”
“That I don’t want you. That I don’t need you with every fiber of my being. That I don’t notice the way you often smell of someone else when you come home, that it doesn’t bother me! That I don’t want to scratch their eyes out because I selfishly want you for myself. The one man I can never have,” she spoke, the confession sending his mind in a whirlwind.
What was she saying?
Was she being plagued by those same thoughts?
Little did she know that she already had him.
She already occupied his every waking moment, already possessed his very soul, if he still had such a thing.
“If I have misunderstood this,” Eloise gestured towards his crotch after he simply stared at her at a loss of words for too long, “then tell me I’m disgusting, Benedict. Send me away,” she demanded, but how could he possibly do that?
Regardless of what he thought about such desires when they came from him, he could never say such things about her.
“I cannot,” he finally managed to croak out, his throat feeling parched despite having just had water.
The slight fear in her eyes disappeared at his words, but Benedict knew there was still pain waiting for her, and he would be the cause.
It killed him inside, but he continued speaking.
“I cannot,” he repeated, “but Eloise, this, us, it cannot happen. I… we… you’re my sister,” he said, as if either of them needed reminding, as if he hadn’t cursed that very fact more times than he could remember, “and we need to… we should…”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it,” Eloise demanded, voice angry as she jabbed her finger into his chest, “don’t you dare suggest that we should stay apart, that one of us should move out, that we should be alone, suffering, aching, hurting, and for what? Social conventions? If you don’t want to do anything about us, then fine, I’ll deal with that, I’ll live with you as a brother, but I will not have you close yourself off and lock me out again!”
There was fire in her eyes as she spoke, the same fire and passion that he so adored about her, and it was only once her little speech was done that he realized they had somehow gotten even closer.
If not for their height difference, they would be a breath away, and Benedict found he couldn’t think rationally when her scent filled his nostrils, when she was saying things he had only ever dreamed of.
So Benedict leaned down and captured her lips with his, swallowing her surprised umf, before she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back hungrily.
Now, he had kissed many people in the past, but they all absolutely paled in comparison to this.
It was fire.
Electricity.
Both of them pouring their repressed, forbidden desires into it.
Benedict bit her upper lip gently, tugging it with his teeth, and the sound Eloise made sent shockwaves through his entire body.
She set him ablaze with each touch, each whimper, each tug against his hair, and without thinking Benedict walked them further into the kitchen until her back hit the fridge.
Eloise moaned around his tongue at the impact, her hips arching and looking for his, and the touch of her warm core against his cock, even through clothes, woke up whichever small part of his rational brain that hadn’t jumped out of a window yet.
“Fuck, El, what are we doing? We… we can’t…” he started, pulling away, but his sister placed her finger over his lips.
“We don’t have to have sex, just please,” she begged, sounding almost pained, before grinding her hips against his again.
They both groaned at the impact, his self control melting by the second, and Benedict experimentally thrust his hips forwards.
The sound she made almost undid him, and he did it again, and again, feeling half crazed as he watched her lean her head back against the fridge, offering her smooth neck to his lips.
This… this was still alright, he tried to convince himself as he sucked tiny love bites onto her skin.
He’d just help her find release.
He couldn’t bear to see her in pain.
Besides, they were both clothed anyway, though her shorts were so thin that he could easily feel a hot, wet patch through both sets of fabric.
They both desperately ground against each other in an imitation of sex, each of his thrusts shaking the fridge, until Eloise started pushing against his chest.
Benedict immediately jumped back, feeling as though he had been doused in cold water, but Eloise merely took his hand and started dragging him out of the kitchen.
“I just don’t want to break the fridge,” she explained, and Benedict wordlessly followed until he realized she was leading him into her room.
Once there, she started unbuttoning his trousers, slipping them down his legs along with his boxers.
“Eloise, we can’t,” he protested weakly, even as he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the way her fingers hooked into the band of her shorts, pulling them down until she was left in only her blue thongs and a tank top.
“I know. And we won’t, just… it doesn’t have to go in, I just want to feel it,” she stated, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bed.
Once she was lying down, she wrapped her slender fingers around his cock, making him throw his head back and groan her name.
She gave him a few pumps before urging him closer and bringing him to her wet slit, moving her thong to the side so she could rub her wetness onto him.
“Fuck, ” Benedict cursed, lowering himself onto his elbows above her as he started moving again, though the experience in the kitchen was incomparable to this.
The head of his cock brushed against her clit every time he moved, her thong keeping him trapped in place despite how wet and slippery her pussy was, and it was somehow both ecstasy and torture.
God, the heat of her…
So warm and inviting.
Both of their bodies seemed to be doing their best to make him slip in, the head of his cock catching against her entrance on almost every pass, and it would be so easy.
“Ben, please,” Eloise begged, oh so prettily, but he couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
It was a line he couldn’t cross, as if it made what they had already done any better
Still, he had to hold onto something.
The tiniest sliver of decency.
Of morality.
“Do not ask it from me,” he groaned, closing his eyes as he moved against her.
Because I won’t be able to say no.
Because I will ruin us both.
“What difference does it make, Benedict?” Eloise asked, placing her palm onto his cheek and making him look at her again. “We’ve crossed so many lines, what’s this last one? If someone walked in right now, we would be ruined either way, whether you’ve ever been inside me or not,” she argued.
She always had a comeback for everything, his clever sister, and could always get whatever she wanted from him.
Any leftover decency and morality inside of him had never stood a chance.
Benedict let out a sound he wasn’t sure was even human before kissing her again and adjusting the angle of his hips.
There was no way back.
There never had been, when it came to her.
They both gasped into the kiss as he entered her, his first time taking someone raw, and Benedict had to squeeze his eyes shut and fist the sheets in order not to come on the spot.
He was inside her.
He was inside Eloise.
His sister.
The sister in question whimpered against his lips, wiggling her hips slightly in an attempt to get him to move, and he would oblige her, but he needed to do something else first.
“Hey!” Eloise protested as he ripped her thong in half in order to get it out of the way, but her protests were silenced once he was able to withdraw and thrust into her much harder and deeper than before.
“I’ll buy you a new one, I’ll buy you anything you want,” he promised, moving inside her in a dance he was well familiar with, though it had never felt so good before.
So right.
“Fuck, Ben, it feels so good, so perfect,” Eloise whined, as if reading his mind, and Benedict decided he needed to see her.
He turned them over so she was on top, his breath catching at her beauty.
She always looked gorgeous, but like this, her lips swollen from kissing and his cock inside her cunt, she had never been prettier.
He wished to paint her, felt his inspiration for art flowing back into him like a tidal wave, but only if she was his muse.
His hands scrambled to take off her tank top and she did the same with his shirt, until they were both finally bare and drinking each other in. They wordlessly ran their fingers over each newly uncovered part of skin, and Benedict relished her soft gasps as he caressed her lovely, silky breasts.
They were just the right size for him, as if made for his palms, and he gently massaged them before teasingly tugging at her nipples and making her clench around him.
After a few moments, Eloise started moving again, her palms on his chest for balance as she rode him, and Benedict wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
He sneaked his fingers towards the place where they were joined, needing to get her towards her peak soon, and Eloise moaned his name at the contact, throwing her head back in pleasure.
“I thought about you,” she murmured, speeding up the pace of her hips, “each time he fucked me, each time I moaned his name, I thought about you. It was your name I was gasping, your body I was imagining, only you, Benedict,” she admitted, speaking into existence the words of his darkest fantasies, and Benedict was done for.
The moment he felt her reach her peak, he lifted her off him, spilling onto the sheets instead.
They simply lay there afterwards, catching their breaths, yet Benedict couldn’t quite shake off a flash of fear.
What would happen now?
They’d crossed a line, yes, but what came next?
Would they go back to being a normal brother and sister, pretending this had never happened?
Would he be able to survive never having her like this again, now that he’d felt what it was like?
His questions were answered by Eloise curling up against his side, wrapping an arm and a leg around him as if she never planned to let him go.
That suited him perfectly well.
He never planned to let her go either.
“I love you, El,” he murmured, hearing her breath hitch before feeling her smile against his chest.
“I love you too. More than anyone,” she responded, making warmth spread through his whole body.
He had never felt romantic love before, had never believed he wanted it, but Eloise’s love made him feel alive.
Now that he knew he had it, it felt as necessary to him as air.
She was his, and he was hers.
They always had been and they always would be.
“How long?” Benedict asked after a few minutes of companionable silence, a question that had been on his mind since her confession in the kitchen.
Eloise gave him a half shrug, lifting the shoulder she wasn’t lying on, before replying.
“I don’t really know. You’ve always been the image of a perfect man in my mind. The perfect gentleman, kind, funny. Incredibly handsome,” she smirked, pinching his side, “the kind of man I knew I’d spend the rest of my life uselessly searching for. Someone who could come even close to measuring up to the perfect, unattainable ideal I already had in my life.”
“Eloise… I am far from perfect,” Benedict contradicted, but Eloise shook her head.
“Not to me. I was actually relieved when I realised I was bi. I didn’t know a perfect woman yet, so there was still a possibility of finding her. I didn’t, of course, but there was at least hope,” she shrugged, before running her thumb over his chin. “And you?”
Benedict paused for a moment, not sure how to answer that question.
“Well… you’ve always been my favourite person in the world, but physical attraction? This summer, I suppose.”
“So my plan worked!” Eloise exclaimed, grinning proudly, and Benedict gasped in surprise.
“Oh, you little minx,” he growled, tickling her sides, and Eloise laughed, doing her best to push his hands away.
“Do you know how much guilt I’ve been living with for the past half a year?” he asked once he allowed them both to catch their breaths by laying his palms on her waist instead.
“Well, it’s been even longer for me. And I figured I could at least try to seduce you. If it worked, great, if not, at least I tried,” she defended.
Benedict hummed, unable to be too angry with her. Not when it ended up turning this way.
“And Benedict?” he asked, remembering that their relationship had happened after she’d started wearing as little as possible.
“Oh, I was delighted when he introduced himself. I mean, he had your name, similar hair – though you’re much more handsome of course – and offered me the possibility to moan the one name I really wanted to moan during sex without anyone finding it strange.”
“God, those moans, Eloise,” he choked out, hiding his face in her breasts and making her chuckle.
Well, since they were confessing already…
“I touched myself outside your door once, imagining they were for me,” he mumbled against the soft skin, before feeling her grab his hair and tug so he would face her.
Her pupils were dilated and she licked her lips hungrily before speaking.
“Oh, they were, as you already know, but I now wish to hear exactly what you thought about.”
“How about I show you instead?” Benedict suggested, making Eloise bite her lip and nod fervently.
He smirked, stealing a peck to her lips before kissing his way down her body.
Her fingers tangled into his hair, her lips whispering “Benedict” and “please” and “oh God, don’t stop,” and Benedict couldn’t help but smile against her clit, feeling happier than he could ever remember being.
Yes, this was a secret they would both have to bear their whole lives, hiding the depth of their feelings for each other from their friends and family, from the world, but they would both bear that burden gladly.
Because the one person who knew how he really felt, the one who felt the same, the only one who mattered, was his favourite sister.