Body temperature rises as the heat in his blood boiled to a tipping point.
Mirabel had led him to his room in midday, right after lunch, to ask for a premonition. And this was a normal occurrence, she asks for help using his gift and he gives without question. Everything she wants from him is freely given regardless of what it was.
There was a moment of sheer panic when they were in his room in a circle of sand, ready to start the ritual only to be stopped by Mirabel.
Her hand on his arm and close, very close, then her lips against his lightly before muttering three words he wasn’t expecting from his own sobrina.
And that moment led to a chain of events in which Mirabel asks for a premonition and Bruno would comply.
There was a half hearted attempt at chastising her inside his room after finding out that Dolores couldn’t hear them, (they think she couldn’t at least) since she didn’t treat them any differently before the first time they laid together, or that other time, again and again and again and again—
“We should stop. We should really stop.” He tried before cursing, Mirabel’s warm lips on his neck as she happily chips away at any remaining sanity he has left with every bite and suck and kiss—
“Is that what you really want tio? Just say so, and we’ll never do this again.”
And it was unfair, as he grips Mirabel’s hips, unable to form words as she took her pleasure along with him. She swallows his moans and ate at his heart and take his cock like it was the first time they decided to cross that blurred line of blasphemy in his room. Wanton and desperate and passionately driven by love, lust, and sin.
He can’t— he begged. He can’t lose her. But this wasn’t right it was never—, they shouldn’t be doing this at all.
But she kept asking and he keeps giving. Because it’s Mirabel. Beautiful, smart, fascinating, and ever changing.
Mirabel who, if it weren’t for her, he’d be stuck miserable inside these walls.
All he ever wanted just within reach and yet he falters. Because of his gift. Because he’s Bruno.
He had conversations with Hernando and Jorge about this. They’re the only ones he can trust to keep the secret, but even they were useless in his pursuit for solutions.
“I only fix walls, compadre. Not relationships.”
“We— Mirabel and I aren’t—, we’re related!”
“Sounds like it’s a you problem.” Jorge replied under the bucket.
“No use fighting her off, Bruno. We both know you can’t even if you tried.”
And yes. He knows he’s just talking to himself. His mental state had been declining even before Mirabel, but it didn’t help that the girl is burying his head further in the sand until she fills his head with nothing but the way she looked on her back, gripping the sheets, and biting her lip to hold back a moan.
Even outside of his room, there was a promise of later. Always. With the way she looks at him with those eyes, smiling at him across the table, and innocently kissing him on the cheek to thank him for being helpful during the day. It’s pure bliss.
He’s a sicko and he hates himself. He could barely look at anyone in the eyes anymore. Especially his hermana Julieta. What was he going to do if they do find out? What were they gonna do to Mirabel? Can he even explain their way out of this? Will he ever see Mirabel again? They would split them up, he’s certain, and he can’t—
There’s guilt in his stomach weighing him down. But it wasn’t enough, never enough, for him to stop when Mirabel’s on her knees and just begging to be fucked—
He won’t survive. He’ll cease to exist without her. He’ll wither away into nothing if they take her away. He’ll die, die, die, diediediediedie—
He would simply stop breathing. Stop living. And if the mere thought of losing Mirabel was enough to spiral him into a panic attack, what would become of him if the truth comes out?
No. He won’t lose her. He can’t.
Mirabel sat him down then proceeded to crawl on his lap.
“Mira—“ and the words were lost in a heated kiss.
“I like it when you’re happy.” She says as she slips her underwear off, she pushed him and he barely resisted, now laying on his back.
She caress the lines that were visible on his face. It came with age. And again, he felt that guilt, but would swiftly be blown away by Mirabel’s iridescent smile.
“I like when the lines on your eyes crinkle or how your mouth stretches when you smile. And your laugh,” She sighs out loud, “I really really like it.”
“I—,” He doesn’t know what to say, “I like it when you’re happy too.”
He didn’t even remember what he was laughing about at lunch. It doesn’t matter because Mirabel’s kissing him again and helping him take his pants off halfway.
“Give me something to reminds you of during the day, please tio?”
And oh mierda. He’s fucked.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Of course, Mira. Anything for you.”
Mirabel position herself on his tip and easily slid down his cock like they were made for each other. She fits snuggly against as she rocks up and down, and he couldn’t help it, he meets her halfway on his own, earning a nice sounding keen coming from her.
She lifted her shirt, (and dios mio she wasn’t wearing anything underneath—), she bit the fabric to keep it up before grabbing his hand to place it on her breast. Bruno’s short circuiting, he’s losing his mind in the best way possible.
They both tensed at the familiar voice.
“Is Mira still with you? I need her help.” Pepa’s voice is muffled from behind the door.
Bruno couldn’t speak. Should he even be—?
“Yes tia, I’m here.” Mirabel replied, she lifted herself up, expecting her to disentangle from him, and Bruno already misses her even if she hadn’t hopped off of him yet—
—only for her to bring herself down again.
“What are you doing?!” He stage-whispered. Rough hands gripping her thighs.
“I’m so close. Please.” She begged in a whisper. “Please, tio. Fuck me.”
“Oh good. I don’t have to look for you then. Your mama asked for help with the arepas since everyone’s busy—“
Oh god, oh god, Bruno starts praying. This is horrible, he’s horrible, but it’s just so good—! He can’t stop, everything else be damned! He won’t stop, not when she’s being all cute, and pleading, and fuCK—!
Mirabel gasped a little, eyes wide, and Bruno knows what’s coming.
He puts a hand on her mouth and changed their positions. Now Mirabel was on her back, and Bruno, with a hand on her mouth, fucked her like his life dependent on it.
Her sounds were muffled, as her whole body shook. He fucked her through her orgasm and now he was chasing his own.
He’s close, a little more—!
“—and I was like ‘But Julieta, can’t you just ask your husband?’ and then your mama was like, ‘He’s off chopping logs again.’—.” The wind howled from outside the door, Pepa’s rising frustration becoming evident.
“Yes. Yesss, Mirabel.” He muttered praise, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, everything his lips can reach, he kisses. Because there’s no one more precious, more beautiful, more—
Bruno pulled out in the nick of time, sweaty hands beating his own cock like it owed him money until he came all over his sobrina’s stomach.
Both panting and out of breath. Mirabel reached out and Bruno met her halfway for an open mouthed kiss.
“Mi vida, you will be the death of me.”
“I love you too, tio Bruno.”
“—Always making arepas, always arepas! What about soup? Pasteles? Mofongo? Arroz Con Gandules? Your hermana can’t ask for something different—“ The door rattled by the increasingly high wind.
“We shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Mirabel laughs and started dressing. Bruno gave her a small towel to rub the spunk off.
“Hope to see you again soon, tio! Thanks for your premonitions!”
“Aha… yeah. Premonitions….” He rubs his arm, a crooked smile on his lips.
Apparently Mirabel found that charming, she gave him one last sweet smile and a kiss before opening the door, and it wasn’t a surprise that the wind and rain splashed them in the face once it was opened.
“Ay tia Pepa. Okayyy, let’s go! We can’t keep mama waiting.”
Pepa sighed, taking a deep breath in and a deep breath out, the clouds slowly falling away.
“Right. Her arepas are good irregardless, and I don’t mind having it everyday but dios mio, Julieta, make something else!”
“If you want something else then you’re free to make your own comidas then, Pepa.” Julieta said at the end of the stairs.
Bruno stood outside the door, a little tired but his heart still raced. The evidence of their coupling still sticking to his skin, the same thing sticking to Mirabel’s skin.
She gave him one last glance before joining the two older women in conversation. Julieta passed her a huge plate of arepas to give to the village, and Bruno simply stared until she was gone.
And he lingered for a minute more before going back to his room and closing the door behind him.
This can’t keep happening. They just can’t. If this comes out and they—
He shook his head before taking the worn and slightly damp sheets off the bed to change it for something new. Maybe he should have a siesta, yeah, that sounded nice.
He’ll just sleep this off. And when he wakes up maybe he’ll have the will to push Mirabel away this time. For good.
That would be a real fucking miracle.