https://www.tumblr.com/nightfallfromgraces/779572050721439744/i-dunno-it-feels-kinda-weird-you-say-leaning?source=share
this piece is so good, i love it so much. will you make another bigbro x lilsis where they're touching each other please? i'll die happy if you do. have a nice day!
You had let that “just one time I promise” turn into a several “just one last time please I promise I won’t ask this again please please please”s. Several enough that it had become kind of a routine for your big brother to jerk off to you while you watched. Yeah, sure, it was weird, but on the other hand, you hadn’t had to do almost any chores for months.
Still, even if seeing your big brother cum for you had become a near-daily occurrence, the gap between that and whatever this was should be more wide, shouldn’t it?
Your big brother, sitting beside you on his bed, glances up at you, hands stilling with thumbs hooked underneath the waistband of your underwear. He chews on his lip, and takes in a deep breath before he forces himself to be a good, responsible older sibling.
“Do you want to stop?” he asks, and to his credit, he actually manages to sound like he wouldn’t be terribly disappointed if you said “yes”. You know better though.
Still. You should say “yes”. You want that you’d want to say “yes”.
“It’s okay, you know. We can just… do the usual,” he says, and shrugs. But just as he’s about to let go of your hips, your hands grasp his. With trembling fingers, head swimming with shame and something else, you lift your hips and guide him to pull off your underwear until it drops at your ankles.
“Oh,” he breathes out, his voice suddenly much heavier than before and his eyes glued between your legs with an odd, hungry gleam, “Okay then. Yeah. Fuck—”
“We’re not gonna actually, like… do it, okay?” you mutter, eyeing nervously at your big brother’s cock. You’ve seen it enough times to know it doesn’t usually visibly throb like that, all on its own.
“Yeah yeah yeah, sure, we’re just… I mean, fuck, I have such a pretty little sis,” he grabs your thighs, and even if you instinctively tense them, he opens you up easily. If he wanted to, he could just press you down, and you could do nothing.
“Wow, are you wet already?” he looks up at you, brows knitted together, “Have you been wet each time and you just haven’t told me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I sure am, kiddo,” he grins, all teeth and beaming pride. He leans closer, brushing the tips of your noses together like when you were kids, the innocence of the soft, familiar gesture tainted by his thumb rubbing the junction of your inner thigh and your cunt, spreading the slick that has already dripped out. You didn’t think that smile of his could get any wider, but it does when he draws out a soft whine from you. Just that is enough to make him groan deep, his cock bucking as if it had a will of its own.
“And I just want to take good care of my little sister,” he presses a kiss on your cheek, every word a warm breath against your skin. Your sibling spreads you, fingers feeling your wet folds with reverent gentleness.
“I’ve wanted this for so long. You could’ve just asked me to help, and I would, okay?”
“Again, you’re my brother,” your voice breaks into another whimper when his fingers find your clit. This was a mistake, because now you know you’ll be thinking about your own brother’s fingers whenever you touch yourself. Whenever anyone else touches you.
“Is that what’s making you so wet? That big bro wants you and loves you this much?” he pants against your ear like a dog, teeth brushing against your skin, sharp and hungry.
“Am I making my cute little sis wet?”
He has his answer when his fingers start drawing tight circles on your clit, and you keen and spread your thighs for your brother.
“Yeah,” you whine, and glance again at his neglected cock. You have jerked him off before, once. And just a little. Dad had called you, told you they’d be home much earlier than they’d planned. But your big brother hadn’t been there yet, and dirty talk hadn’t been enough, so you had had to help get him there. It had been an emergency. You hadn’t really wanted it back then — or at least that’s what you had told yourself.
But now you did. You looked at his shaft and you wanted to touch it, wanted to be the one to— God. You used to be normal. What happened to that?
You reach for him, but the last thing you expected is for him to suddenly stop you. And when you look at him, there’s an amused grin on his face, the one you have seen countless times growing up. Usually, it hasn’t meant anything good.
He takes your hand, and guides it between your own folds until slick covers your fingers. He makes you touch and fingerfuck yourself in front of him and you don’t quite know why he’d prefer that to a handjob, but the way he looks at you — all blown pupils fixated on you as if you were the prettiest thing on the planet — just makes you thrust your fingers deeper inside yourself.
“Okay, that’s enough. Good girl,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek. And only then, he pulls your hand away from your pussy before you can stop him.
“You wanted to make your big brother feel good, didn’t you?” he asks and guides you to wrap your soaked fingers around his cock.
“I wasn’t even finished yet, jerk,” you hiss, and still you start to stroke him, your own slick lubricating every movement. His eyes roll back a little and he moans out your name, bone deep, and your now-empty cunt aches. He lays his hand on your thigh and it’s so close, so fucking close but not enough.
“Shhh. I’ll take care of that for you.”
He moves his hand. And he looks at you, eyes crinkling into thin, gleaming slits when you gasp and tremble as he pushes his fingers inside you. He spreads you slowly, experimentally, until he finds a steady pace and angle that draws cute little “ah, ah, ah”s from you with every thrust.
You can imagine it. Laying down, and suddenly it would just feel easier if he climbed on top of you, and—
“N-no. This shouldn’t be more… more… you know,” you whine through the haze in your brain, and still, your fist on his cock quickens just a bit.
“Oh, so that’s where the line goes. Good to know,” he barks out a laugh, and leans close so your every quick, shallow breath brushes against his lips, and mixes with his panting. Close enough to almost, almost taste him.
He snorts when he sees your expression.
“What? We did it all the time as kids.”
That memory shouldn’t make your breath hitch but it does. It was innocent back then, no more weird than any other childish shenanigans, but…
“Yeah, but we were kids. We didn’t even know what we were doing,” you whine, “It just felt funny.”
“It’s not that different now,” he murmurs, lips brushing against you too briefly to really count, but enough to make you clench on his fingers, “C’mere sis, I’ll make you feel really funny again…”
It takes very little from you to lean in. An inch, at most, and you get to know what it feels like to have your own big brother moan your name against your tongue.
