She can feel him inside of her and all around her, grunting and moaning like some kind of boywhore. She just lays there and takes it, utterly dry, very quiet, and quite bored as well. Her brother was handsome only if one looked at him in dim lighting, but he was also her husband, so there was no way to really get away from him.
Aeria brings a hand to hold onto Daeron’s back, trying to shift underneath him to change the angle just slightly, to find some way to make this experience more pleasurable for her. It’s no use. It only takes a few more minutes until Daeron passes out on top of her, heavy and smelly and still ugly.
She pushes him off of her with disgust. Daeron slumps beside her, saliva trailing down his chin. He’s disgusting. She can’t look away from him.
It should’ve been me born a man, and him the sister, she thinks to herself, a hand sneaking down between her thighs. Her sweet Daera. She imagines what her sister would look like; large breasts and a large ass, for her—his—hands to hold, to mould. He would bring his mouth to her cunt and make her come just with his tongue, no need for her to touch herself after. His cock would never go flaccid when he was inside her, he would never pass out drunk on top of her.
Aeria moans, soft and low, as her fingers circle around her clit faster and faster, her eyes fixed on Daeron.
She imagines Daera fat and swollen with a baby, her breasts heavy and leaking. She imagines closing his mouth around her nipple, drinking the sweet milk that would fall from it. Would she moan? Aeria thinks it would not be so pleasurable for her if she were to fall pregnant; her tits were small like a boys, and when Daeron put his mouth around them, she felt more teeth than tongue.
Aeria would never bite Daera. Not on the nipples, at least. He would bite her on the neck, where everybody could see, a mark of his ownership. She comes with a soft sigh, her fingers slowing. Daeron was still useless beside her, his brows furrowed in fear or whatever nightmares were plaguing him now.