They collapsed sideways onto Laura's bed: limbs tangled, hearts racing, the air thick with sex and blood and something softer now.
Alex pulled her into his chest, her back to his front, his arms locked around her waist like he was afraid she'd vanish. Laura's breathing was still shaky; tiny tremors ran through her thighs every few seconds.
For a long time they just breathed together.
Laura broke the silence first, voice hoarse and small. "I really thought you were gone for good this time."
Alex pressed his lips to the back of her neck. "Never again. I swear."
She turned in his arms, nose brushing his. "You hurt me, Alex."
"I know."
"But you also just fucked the hurt right out of me." A tiny, wicked smile tugged at her swollen lips.
He laughed: shaky, relieved. "Romantic, huh?"
"Shut up." She kissed him: soft, slow, tasting herself on his tongue. "I'm keeping you."
They stayed like that for minutes: hours: time lost meaning.
Just kisses, whispers, fingers tracing fresh bruises like they were constellations.
Eventually Laura sighed. "We have to clean this room before Mom comes knocking. She'll smell sex and murder."
Alex kissed her forehead. "Yes, ma'am."
They moved like conspirators.
Alex stripped the sheets: blood, cum, melted ice cream: and shoved them into a trash bag. Laura sprayed vanilla room freshener like a crime-scene cleanup crew: until the air was sweet again. Books were stacked neatly (hiding the underlined passages). Clothes folded, wine bottle hidden, cracked phone face-down. The floor wiped with tissues until no trace remained.
Ten minutes later the room looked innocent again.
Laura stood in the center, still naked, cum drying on her lower back. "Take me to the bathroom, brother. I can't walk."
Alex scooped her up: princess carry: her arms around his neck, cheek against his chest.
She felt weightless. Fragile. His.
In the bathroom he set her gently on the marble counter, started the shower: steaming hot. He stepped in with her, letting the water cascade over both of them.
He washed her like she was made of glass at first.
Coconut body wash lathered between his palms. Slow circles over her shoulders, down her spine, careful around the bruises blooming on her hips. Kneeling to wash her legs, kissing every red mark his fingers left earlier. When he reached her pussy she winced: sharp intake of breath.
Alex froze. "I'm sorry: I was too rough:"
Laura cupped his face, water streaming down her breasts. "Don't be, brother. I loved it."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I loved being yours that hard."
Something snapped in him: not lust, devotion.
He kissed her under the spray: slow, deep, worshipful. His hands slid up her wet body, cupping her breasts: thumbs circling her nipples until they pebbled again. He squeezed: firm, reverent: then lowered his mouth. He sucked one nipple: gentle at first, then harder, teeth grazing. Laura's head fell back against the tile, moan echoing off marble. He switched to the other breast: licking, sucking, worshipping until she was trembling again. His tongue traced the curve under her breast, down her ribs, across her belly.
She shivered: fingers threading through his wet hair. "Alex…"
He rose, kissing up her throat, her jaw, claiming her mouth again. Hands roaming: squeezing her ass, her breasts, sliding between her thighs but never entering: just teasing, promising. Their bodies slid together: slick, hot, owned.
No fucking.
Just feeling. Just love in its rawest form.
When the water began to cool, he wrapped her in the fluffiest towel, carried her back to bed: fresh sheets he'd changed while she watched from the doorway, smirking.
They slipped under the covers naked.
Alex spooned her: chest to her back, arm locked around her waist, palm resting over her heart.
He whispered into her damp hair: "Should we tell our parents tomorrow?"
Laura laughed softly: wicked, warm. "Not yet."
She laced her fingers with his. "Let's have some secret sibling love right under their nose for a while."
Alex groaned, half-laugh, half-arousal. "You're evil."
Laura pressed her ass back against him: teasing. "I'm your fucking sister, brother."
She yawned, burrowed deeper into his arms, and for the first time in weeks:
They slept: tangled, claimed, together.