Ben steps on the brake, and the dusty grey sedan lurches to a stop a stone’s throw from the last place on earth he wants to be. It’s only been three years, but the garage is smaller, dingier than the one his mind's eye remembers. The battered sign reading Solo’s still looms over the lot of dead and dying vehicles; the moiety of cars always made him shiver with revulsion.
For better or worse, some things haven’t changed.
The car takes a cue from Ben’s hesitation, giving one final shudder before its engine dies right there in the middle of the damn driveway. For a moment he almost slams his palms against the wheel in frustration — a gesture he’s made a lot during this cross-country journey — but then he wraps his long fingers into fists, stopping himself. The sedan’s increasing flakiness is probably a testament to its age and rough life, but surely Han will patch the thing up for him. Walking the last hundred feet won’t kill him.
The arid Nevada air rushes past the door to greet him as soon as he pops the door handle, sucking the moisture from his skin like a vampire’s kiss. He squints against the overbearing sunlight, a headache instantly coalescing between his knitted brows. Han’s truck is missing from the front yard but one of the garage’s bay doors is open, and Ben sighs inwardly as he picks out a pair of legs sticking out from under the black muscle car slumbering inside. At least he won’t be stuck outside in this sunbaked oven while he waits — yet again — for his errant father.
Han’s only consistent employee through the years has been his best friend Chewie, but it’s rare to find them apart, Ben realizes dully as he trudges closer. His mouth is dry as the dust, so he might be hallucinating, but he’s been inadvertently sneaking up on a stranger. For one thing, these legs are shapely, slim — not the legs of a hirsute, middle-aged man. For another, Chewie wouldn’t be caught dead wearing microscopic denim jean shorts that nearly disappear around his hips, crinkling like a paper fan as he bends his knees and scooches further under the car.
A woman. Ben’s pulse thuds with strangled excitement. For thousands of miles he’s been dreading the weeks ahead, day after day of hiding away in Han’s basement to avoid the old man’s gruff sentimentality … but if someone new’s kicking around the shop, things might prove more interesting.
A violet sneaker at the end of one of the legs rhythmically taps the stained cement floor, and Ben hears the electronic music echoing through the garage becoming less tinny as he approaches. The way the woman’s squished under the onyx car with the radio blasting she probably has no idea he’s here — and even as guilt reprimands him, he deliberately slows his own footfalls, delaying the inevitable to stare at her a few moments longer.
An intricate tattoo snakes its way up the right side of the woman’s body from ankle to thigh, disappearing beneath the frayed hem of her jean shorts. A few inches of bare midriff peek out between her waistband and the hem of her dark shirt, and he can see the ornate piece continue upward in the shadows beneath the rocker panel, flowing toward her full breast like a river of ink.
Ben’s cock twitches, stirring with the sudden rush of heat as he stares at the distracted woman. It’s all too easy to imagine himself between her thighs, feeling them tighten about his waist as she urges him closer. The cords of muscle stand out in her legs as she bends her knees, sliding the creeper a few inches out from under the vehicle, and a crescent of white peeks out of the crux of her Daisy Dukes.
It takes Ben way too long to realize he’s staring at her panties, but when he does the searing ache of need from his sex becomes a thousand times worse, its sudden hardness snarling at him like a roused panther. Jerking off always seemed like less work than finding a hookup — but it’s way too easy right now to imagine hooking his index finger around the fabric and pulling it aside to reveal the woman’s dripping pink slit, finding her with his dull, raw head and flexing his hips to thrust into her…
“Got a bad crankshaft,” an alto voice calls out, echoing weirdly from under the vehicle.
Ben jumps, trying to force the sordid thoughts away, but it’s too late. Half of his mind is already obsessed with fucking her, feeling her soaked channel tightening around him until his fiery seed spurts into her and she shudders, cumming for him, too. The rest of him can’t remember how to form words.
“That’s why you stalled out when you stopped,” the woman offers. “Might just be the wiring, though — I’ll check it for you. Or your dad will.”
Something about the way she says your dad cuts through the haze of lust, and the hairs on the nape of Ben’s neck prickle with warning.
The poured cement floor vibrates beneath his shoes as the woman draws her ass down to her heels, rolling herself out from under the car — and Ben’s whole body tingles with shock as he gapes down at her too-familiar face.
The last time he saw her she was practically a ghost, flitting through the house without saying more than a word or two to him at a time. He’d been so pissed at his father for remarrying that he’d hardly bothered to take note of her at the time, reserving his wrath for I’ll-never-try-to-replace-your-real-mom Qi'ra.
His stepsister grins up at him, somehow innocent and wicked all at once. “Welcome home.”
Ben pivots on his heel to hide his furious erection. Even after the surprise of seeing Rey his prick is staunchly ignoring him, throbbing harder when all he wants it to do is shut the fuck up. Han’s made it such a damn mission over the years to remind Ben that Qi'ra and her teenage daughter Rey are his family now, too, that he’s all tangled up between ingrained rules and instinct, utterly and completely at a loss.
He nods, hearing her knees pop behind him as she stands. Shit. Shit . She moves around him, and thank hell she’s peering at his face, not the telltale bulge in his jeans.
“Just a headache,” Ben manages, his voice shaky and hoarse. All the blood in his body is camped out in his swollen dick, refusing to budge until he fucks Rey into a mattress. Is she still a virgin? She’s nineteen now, so probably not — maybe she’s taken a cock or two. Either way, it doesn’t matter; he just wants to be inside her, feeling her spine arch as he bends her out of shape and she moans his name.
Fuck. This can’t be happening.
Rey’s dark amber eyes narrow, catlike, as she watches him, tendrils of her hair spilling over her tanned temple as she cocks her head. She was always good-looking in the way girls are, but she’s amped it up in the years since she became a woman, embracing the way her body’s filled out. Both her flared kohl eyeliner and the streak of grease on her cheekbone suit her — and Ben’s erection twitches with impatience as their gazes lock.
“Need an ibuprofen?” she asks, her voice soft with concern.
“Yeah. Maybe.” He breaks her magnetic thrall on him long enough to glance at the doorway to the house. “Is it unlocked?”
“Think I’ll just go inside.”
Ben steps around her and strides quickly toward the house before she can see what’s happening. Screw the car, it’s not blocking the drive and this hard-on isn’t going anywhere. Somehow, realizing it’s Rey, his legal if not blood sister, that’s turning him on has made things profoundly worse, like dumping gas on an inferno.
“Good to see you, too, Ben,” she calls after him, her voice embroidered with reproach as he hurries inside, dazed with lust.
* * *
The grease-monkey lifestyle. The mysterious tattoo. When did his shy, nerdy stepsister become a bad girl?
More importantly, why is he suddenly so obsessed with her?
Ben glowers at his computer as it boots up, fan grumbling noisily. He’s been down here for hours reading old issues of New Mechanics and staunchly avoiding Rey; Han’s message of a few hours ago to have dinner without him was textbook Dad, but aggravating nevertheless. The idea of Qi'ra being overseas for work for the next few weeks had seemed great when he first read Han’s email, but with her gone that only leaves one buffer to remind himself to chill the fuck out. With that gone, too, he can’t trust himself — and that’s the most troubling thing of all.
He prods the doddering computer to his neglected network of social media accounts, scanning through them as quickly as the ancient processor will allow. He still doesn’t dare emerge upstairs to figure out if Rey’s still in the garage; it’ll be easier to grab his laptop and the rest of his belongings from the comatose sedan once she’s done in the shop for the afternoon. Thank god his old room has a bathroom tucked away off one corner, making it possible to fortify himself in this foxhole as long as need be.
The pictures of her he finds are anything but helpful. Evidently she’s been working in Han’s shop for some time; pictures of converted rat rods don’t usually catch his eye, so he’s been glossing over them in his feeds for years. He stops on one pic of her posing with Han beside an engine that’s been modded to include a can of linseed oil. They’re both grinning, heads tilted towards each other even though Rey’s a full foot shorter than the older man. His arm is slung around her shoulders, displaying an affection that Ben’s rarely seen with anyone, even Qi'ra. Even himself.
It isn’t hard to find his way to other accounts of hers, ones their parents surely don’t follow. Her Tumblr is the richest vein to mine, full of selfies that would surely make Han and Qi'ra have coronaries. They must not know it exists.
Ben’s groin tingles, magma heat gathering as a very different snap than the first catches his eye. Rey’s lying on her side, ribbon-dark tattoo snaking up her body with nothing to interrupt it. It looks phenomenal on her, flared hips making him wonder what her soft ass would feel like crooked against his hips. Her mound is tantalizing out of the frame, her hand cupped over her breast to preserve her modesty — but it’s plenty for Ben’s sick imagination to run wild with.
Shit , it’s just how he imagined her seeing her in the garage. He’d been mere centimeters from seeing the rest of her; another mindless tilt of her hips and she could’ve bared everything to him.
Him. Her brother.
“ Step brother,” Ben forces through a gritted jaw.
His cock doesn’t seem to care about the legal distinction. He must’ve been at half-mast just from perving her pictures, because he’s practically cramping with excitement from the idea of this new Rey lying in bed naked, taking a picture of herself for creeps like him to drool over.
Maybe he’s just overtired, overwrought from the long drive. He should sleep it off; the last few hours of knife-edged alert, listening for her footsteps and trying to ignore her presence, have proved a spectacular failure.
But he has to get her out from under his skin first.
It’s unthinkable, but even as he avoids the picture for a few minutes he knows he’s fighting the inevitable. His usual cache of dirty vids don’t come close to scratching the itch, and image searches for tattoos like hers seem to fall short. Nothing turns him on with that same electric anticipation as the pure drug straight from the source: that fucking picture.
Ben’s unzipping his jeans before he realizes he’s staring at it again, the myriad of other tabs forgotten. His cock is aching, and he actually sighs with relief as he negotiates his massive girth free of its fabric prison.
He hisses with pleasure as he palms himself, and glances down to survey the situation thrusting out of his jeans. Years of implicit and explicit comparison have taught Ben that he’s impressively proportioned; his cock seems more intimidating than ever, inflamed with lust for the last person he should ever want to fuck.
Heat beads beneath every inch of Ben’s skin, and he absentmindedly tugs his shirt off, letting it fall beside the creaky computer chair. Rey’s not the only one who’s changed. His body is corded with lean muscles; he’s just as slim as he was when he lived down here before, but he’s stronger now, hungrier somehow.
Hornier, for damn sure.
The picture bewitches Ben again and he runs his fingertips up and down the underside of his phallus, pulse quickening as he lingers on the ridges of his head. He doesn’t even need lotion or lube; his hand whispers over his sensitive skin and a clear bead of moisture emerges from his aperture to greet him. He breathes heavier as he smears it over himself, imagining the wetness to be Rey’s silken pussy opening for him.
“Rey,” Ben lets himself groan quietly, letting the fantasy become real. The thought of a condom flits through his mind, but he quickly dismisses it; this is fantasy, just for himself, and that means fucking her raw. She could be sitting splayed across his lap right now — it could be her tight, torrid nexus he’s thrusting into, the chair creaking with their combined weight...
He hears the footsteps nearing the top of the stairs only too late. The door swings open unheralded by knocking, and Ben winces against the daylight that suddenly lances through his dark dominion.
There’s no escape: Rey’s already around the corner, her honey eyes fixed on his, face pale with worry. In a heartbeat her gaze flicks down and he can’t hide the fact that he’s sitting here shirtless before the computer with his cock in his hand.
“Get out!” He snatches up his shirt and yanks it over his head, tucking his frustrated length under the soft cotton hem — but he doesn’t hear the slam of the door, or a scream of shock. Instead Rey’s bare feet pad down the lacquered wooden steps behind him and across the rough carpet of his bedroom floor, the bed squeaking softly with her weight as she sits.
“We gonna talk about this?”
He turns to face her only once he’s sure he’s covered himself. She’s watching him with an expression of perfect innocence, almost as infuriating as her behavior barging in here uninvited. “Talk about what? Your lack of manners?”
“Your weird behavior. You didn’t even really say hey when you got here, and then you just disappeared down here.”
“I didn’t know that we did say hey.” He scowls at her, pulse racing as he shifts his shirt self-consciously. Her gaze keeps moving around — is she looking at his dick? “And it’s my bedroom, where the hell else would I go?”
“Fair enough.” She tilts it to the side, regarding something just over his shoulder. “How about the fact that you’re jerking it to my picture?”
Ben spins back to the computer, his heart slamming with horror, but it’s too late. His guilt is splayed across the screen in all its pixelated glory, Rey’s no doubt bespoke tattoo mocking him like damnation.
Fuck. There’s nothing to say to that. He can’t even look at her, just numbly clicks out of the browser.
What comes next? He has nowhere else to go; he wouldn’t be here if he did. He’s never made a mistake of this magnitude, and surely Rey’s going to demand Han kick him out — and rightly so. She must think he’s one of those fuckwads who send unsolicited dick pics, or leave drooling comments about what he’d do to her given the chance,
Ben feels like he’s going to vomit. How can he have screwed up this badly?
“I made your bed for you.” His stepsister’s voice is as cool as ever, seemingly untroubled by the fact that he’s just given her an eyeful of his erect cock. His gaze finds its way back to her, and she runs her hands over the navy quilt, smoothing it to either side of her. “What would you think if I said I’d gotten myself off on it as I was making it?”
His throat is as parched as the fissured desert earth. “I’d say you’re lying.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She shrugs, and a sly grin tugs at her lips. “Fun to think about, though, isn’t it?”
“Stop it,” Ben snaps.
“Han’s going to be home any minute.” He swallows hard, trying to maintain the upper hand in the face of her unmitigated nonchalance. “And you’re here.”
And my dick’s still out , Ben wants to snap back at her — but he can’t draw attention to his manhood, still lurking beneath the slack hem of his shirt. She can’t have not noticed; he remembers the expression of shock on her face clearly enough.
Rey leans back, propping herself up as she crosses her legs and lets one bare foot tap impatiently in midair. “Better hurry up, then.”
“Hurry up with what?”
This time there’s no mistaking the way her mischievous gaze darts to his sex and back again.
“You can’t be serious,” Ben mutters as his heart thumps like a struck anvil.
Rey’s neat brows twitch higher. “Why not?” She jerks her chin toward his monitor. “You were just doing it without me here. What’s the problem now that I’m watching?”
“I get it,” he growls, abjectly contrite. All the lessons his mother taught him about objectifying women come flooding back; his disappointment in himself is unfathomable. He’s better than this, master of his impulses, not enslaved by them. How could he let this happen? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”
“You’re not listening to me, Ben.”
His mouths snaps shut, and he scowls at her again. What the actual fuck?
“I said, you’d better hurry,” Rey enunciates clearly. Then she nods again, like she’s expecting him to just whip it out and start going to town on himself.
“I can’t....” He breaks off, uncertain what the hell he’s supposed to say to that. “I don’t-”
“Here. Let me help.”
Ben freezes in his seat like Greek marble as Rey gets up from the bed and moves toward him. She brushes past him close enough for him to feel her heat, leaning forward over his mouse and keyboard. It’s like she’s making a point of shoving her breasts in his face, and he grits his jaw until his teeth creak as he starts to harden again. She smells like the garage, but different, too — sweet somehow, like papaya or exotic flowers. Her very nearness is enough to make his shaft pulse as he stiffens.
Rey glances down at him as she moves back from the computer, and her quick gaze catches what’s happening above his splayed zipper. “See? That’s it.” Ben could swear there’s an extra bounce in that delicious ass of hers as she pads back to the bed and reseats herself, fixing him with that target-lock gaze. “Now just pretend I’m not here.”
His voice is robotic with disbelief; it’s impossible she could mean it. “You want me to jerk it with you here?”
“I put my picture back up, if it helps.”
He spares a glance at the monitor and she isn’t lying. There she is again in her exposed glory, showing everything and nothing all at once.
“You were enjoying looking at me. Why shouldn’t I enjoy looking at you?”
Ben’s cock pulses at the thought of Rey enjoying him, and it’s so terrible and wrong that it almost feels right.
“Tell you what.” Rey leans forward on the foot of his bed, and before he can blink she pulls her ripped tee off over her head. She takes a minute negotiating it past her cute ponytail, but then she’s just sitting there on his bed in her short-shorts and a simple black bra. She’s almost spilling out of her cups, and her breasts ripple pertly as she hooks her thumbs under the straps. “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“You’re my sister,” he blurts out automatically. She’s six years younger than him, how can she been this forthright — and this perverse?
She shrugs, uncaring. “We’re not really related. Our parents fuck, that’s it.”
Rey rolls her green eyes in apparent exasperation. “Yes, Han refers to you as my brother — and yes, I got all the same admonitions you did.”
“You just don’t care?” He gapes at her, and when she twitches one eyebrow again in sexy devilry his cock twitches.
“We’re not actually touching each other, anyway.” She tugs playfully at her straps, threatening to make them slip from her shoulders. “What d’you say?”
Ben doesn’t say anything with his lips — but he moves the hem of his shirt a little. Enough to make her pull her straps down and move her hands to the narrow bridge of fabric between her breasts. The spot glints beneath the harsh lights; it must be a plastic clasp, but she lingers, waiting. “Now you. Just give me a peek.”
He hesitates, but only for a moment, damn the consequences. His phallus is rock-hard, greedy for her even as he knows how very bad this is — and he pulls his shirt off, too, exposing himself to her.
Rey murmurs wordlessly as she stares at his aroused sex. Her fingers play over the curves of her bra, but she doesn’t look like she’s even aware of it. Hell, she looks like she’s a half-step from drooling over him.
“Why?” he breathes. He has to know that much before he can do anything more.
His stepsister’s gaze finds his, sending a frisson of excitement through him as she shrugs again. “Because you’re hot.”
Ben lets his hand wander along his shaft. Is he really playing this game? Her hungry stare emboldens him: “Now you.”
Rey smirks as she undoes the plastic clasp with tantalizing slowness. He throbs in his own hand as the fabric parts beneath hers, and the sight of her full, naked breasts and their neat pink areolas makes him gasp quietly as she lets the bra slip from her shoulders. “Like what you see?”
He nods breathlessly, palming his cock more firmly now as she finds her nipples. She runs her fingers over them lightly, tracing the circumference of the perfect pink circles and tweaking the points until they stiffen. Her skin is like honey, and the thought of tasting her, letting the flavor of her raspberry-scented body fill his mouth makes him groan.
She giggles — and the sound only makes him ache for her more.
“What are we doing, Rey?” Ben growls, trying to hide the hitch in his voice as the heat coalesces to an ember in his exposed sex.
“Playing around. Getting you off, right now.”
“Then…” She sighs, but her enchanting gaze is still calling to him, making him think of violation and whimpers and groans. “Then we see where this goes, I guess.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
He’s not sure where the words come from — and though his stepsister’s eyes widen again, he loves it. Is she wondering what he’ll feel like inside her as her gaze flits to his thick, rigid cock again?
“Maybe,” she admits after a moment, a shy smile playing over her lips as she finds him again.
His prick throbs painfully at the knowledge of what they’re both thinking. “Ever fucked anyone before?”
“I’ve never taken someone as big as you, if that’s what you mean,” she returns quickly.
The hint of a whimper in Rey’s voice makes liquid bead at the top of Ben’s head again. He’s getting close now, surprisingly so; maintainance under pressure hasn’t always been his strong suit, but with Rey watching him he’s like a damn porn star, bringing himself closer to the brink as she watches him with those catlike eyes.
“Touch yourself,” he demands — but she shakes her head.
“Only you right now. Be a good boy and maybe I’ll reward you later.”
Her self-assurance is intoxicating, and Ben finds he secretly loves it; two can play at that game. Later, though — Han’ll be home any minute, and Ben can’t go through dinner with his father and Rey and the world’s bigger hard-on. He has to blow this load. “Later?”
Rey laughs again, her warm voice rippling like a brook. “We’ve got all summer.”
She spreads her knees at the end of his bed, letting her fingertips play over the narrow swath of fabric that veils her pussy. Even from across the room Ben can see the denim is damp from riding against her crease.
“Don’t you wonder what it’d be like inside me?” Rey asks delicately as she runs her finger along the seam at the apex of her thighs, lingering at the square notch that holds everything together.
For a moment it’s as though he’s around him already, her tight channel breaking open as he thrusts into her. Whether or not his stepsister’s a virgin, she’s functionally one to him — and that’s the thought that brings Ben to the brink as he strokes himself, grunting quietly as he strains into his clenched fingers.
Then, suddenly, he’s there, his own blistering seed spurting out to soak his fingers. He pumps his hand a few more times and the load just keeps coming, spattering his naked chest up to his shoulder as he thinks of burying himself in Rey.
Rey’s eyes practically glow as she stares at him, panting a little through her parted lips. They’re the same sweet pink as her bared nipples, shuddering now with her sharp breaths.
“Ben—” she begins.
They both jump as the sound of tires against gravel echoes through the house.
“Han,” Rey hisses, and his heart damn near stops.
She slips her bra back over her shoulders, bending forward and tucking her breasts back into their prison in one smooth motion. She yanks her tee back on in the next instant and then it’s like she wasn’t just touching herself, watching with rapt attention as he blew his load all over himself.
Rey scoops Ben’s shirt off the floor, tossing it at his cumstained chest as she darts back up the stairs.
“Clean yourself up, you perv!” she giggles, and then she’s lost to the sunlight streaming in from outside as Ben sits frozen in his old chair, dumbfounded by whatever the fuck just happened between them.