The barn was a cathedral of shadows and silence, save for the relentless drumming of the rain on the tin roof above. It smelled of dry, sweet hay, old leather, and the earthy musk of the livestock resting in the stalls below.
Elara didn't stop until they reached the ladder leading to the loft. She shoved Rowan toward it, her strength surprising for someone with such slender wrists.
"Up," she commanded, her voice brooking no argument.
Rowan climbed, the wooden rungs slick under his palms. He could hear the rustle of her skirts following close behind, the soft panting of her breath a stark contrast to the storm outside.
When they reached the top, the loft was filled with mounds of golden straw. It was warmer here, trapped heat rising from the animals below.
Elara stepped onto the platform and immediately closed the distance between them. She didn't give him space to breathe. She pressed her body against his, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.
She buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply. Then, she pulled back, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
"Lavender," she hissed. "It's everywhere. On your skin. In your hair."
She looked up at him, her eyes dark pools of possessiveness. The dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls highlighted the fierce set of her jaw.
"Do you prefer Auntie's scent to mine, Rowan?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you prefer the way she touches you?"
"Elara, it's not like that," Rowan began, raising his hands in surrender. "She was..."
"Thirsty?" Elara finished for him, cutting him off. "I know. We all are."
She pushed him backward. Rowan's knees hit a bale of hay, and he crumpled onto the soft, scratching surface. He lay back, the straw rustling beneath him.
Elara stood over him, a silhouette against the gloom. Slowly, methodically, she began to undo the buttons of her tunic.
"I've raised you," she whispered, tossing the tunic aside. It landed softly on the floorboards. Underneath, she wore a simple cotton camisole that did little to hide the heaviness of her chest.
"I bandaged your knees when you fell. I cooked your porridge."
She stepped out of her skirt. Her legs were pale and strong, shaped by years of walking the fields. She wasn't delicate like Seraphina; she was sturdy, reliable, and beautifully firm.
"And now," she murmured, crawling over him on her hands and knees. "I have to clean you up."
She straddled his chest, her knees sinking into the hay on either side of his ribs. She leaned down, her long hair creating a curtain around them, shutting out the rest of the world.
"Don't move," she ordered.
She didn't kiss his lips. Instead, she began to kiss his neck, right over the pulse point where Seraphina had touched him.
Her lips were hot, wet, and demanding. She sucked gently on the skin, replacing the scent of lavender with the smell of her own desire—wildflowers and fresh cream.
"Mine," she breathed against his skin.
Rowan's hands came up to hold her waist. Her skin was incredibly soft, warm to the touch. He could feel the vibration of her voice against his fingertips.
"Elara..."
"Quiet," she silenced him, moving lower. "This is a punishment. You don't get to speak."
She sat back, her weight resting on his stomach. Her eyes locked onto his belt.
With nimble fingers, she undid the buckle. The sound of the leather parting was sharp in the quiet barn.
She pulled his trousers down, freeing him.
Rowan's 'iron-hard length' sprang up, twitching in the cool air. It was still sensitive from the Aunt's attention, but the Vitality System ensured he was ready for battle again.
Elara stared at it. A mixture of pride and hunger crossed her face.
"It's still so angry," she noted, tracing a finger down the underside of the shaft. "Did she not satisfy you?"
Rowan groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily at her feather-light touch.
"She did," he gasped. "But you... you have a different effect."
Elara smiled, a triumphant curve of her lips.
"Good."
She shifted her position, turning around so she was kneeling between his legs. She leaned forward, her hair brushing against his thighs like silk.
She didn't hesitate. She opened her mouth and took him in.
The sensation was electric.
Where Seraphina's hand had been slippery and desperate, Elara's mouth was warm, tight, and incredibly skilled.
She swirled her tongue around the head, tasting the remnants of his earlier release, cleaning him with a possessive thoroughness.
"Mmph," she hummed, the vibration traveling straight down his spine.
She began to bob her head. Up and down.
Her 'wet cavern' was hot and suctioned perfectly to his shape. She took him deep, her throat accommodating his length with a practiced ease that belied her innocent "Big Sister" persona.
Rowan gripped the hay beneath him, his knuckles turning white.
"Elara," he warned, his voice straining. "That's... too good."
She ignored him. She picked up the pace. Her hands came up to fondle the 'twin orbs' beneath, massaging them gently while her mouth worked its magic on the pillar above.
She looked up at him through her lashes. Her eyes were glazed, focused entirely on her task. She wasn't just servicing him; she was devouring him. She wanted to drain every ounce of energy he had, to ensure he had nothing left for anyone else.
The sound of her 'sipping' filled the small space—wet, sloppy, and incredibly erotic.
Rowan watched her, mesmerized. The sight of his sister, the woman who usually scolded him for muddy boots, now kneeling before him with such devotion, shattered the last of his resistance.
He reached down, threading his fingers through her hair. He didn't push; he just held on, grounding himself.
"I'm going to..."
Elara didn't stop. She went faster. She tightened her lips, creating a vacuum that felt like it was pulling his very soul out of his body.
The pressure built rapidly. The 'hot lava' churned deep within him, hotter and more urgent than before.
"Big Sis!"
With a ragged cry, Rowan arched his back off the hay.
Elara took it all.
She didn't pull away. She swallowed the 'explosion of bliss' greedily, drinking the 'life essence' as if it were a potion that would bind him to her forever.
She kept sucking, draining him dry, milking the last drops until he fell back onto the hay, panting and trembling.
[System Notification]
[Partner 'Elara' Satisfied.]
[Jealousy Status: Quelled.]
[Vitality Exchange Complete. Reward: 'Bountiful Livestock'. The barn animals will produce double the milk and wool for the next week.]
Elara pulled back slowly. A thin trail of saliva and 'milky release' connected her lips to him before breaking.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking incredibly satisfied.
She crawled back up his body, lying down on top of him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his thundering heart.
"Now," she whispered, tracing a pattern on his chest. "You smell like me."
Rowan wrapped his arms around her, pulling the hay over them like a blanket. The barn felt cozy now, the darkness protective rather than ominous.
"You made your point," Rowan chuckled weakly, stroking her hair.
"I intend to make it every day," Elara murmured, her eyes closing. "You are the head of this family, Rowan. But never forget who feeds you."
They lay there for a while, listening to the rain soften into a drizzle. The warmth of their bodies created a cocoon of comfort.
Suddenly, a creak from below broke the silence.
It wasn't the wind. It was the heavy barn door sliding open.
"Brother?"
The voice was soft, high-pitched, and filled with innocence.
Rowan froze. Elara stiffened in his arms.
It was Lily. The Little Sister.
"Brother? Big Sis?" Lily called out again, her footsteps crunching on the straw of the lower level. "Are you up there? I saw you come in."
She was walking toward the ladder.
Elara scrambled off him, grabbing her tunic. "Quick," she hissed, her face pale. "Your trousers."
Rowan fumbled with his belt, his fingers clumsy.
"I found something weird in the orchard!" Lily shouted, her voice getting closer. "One of the pumpkins... it's shaped really funny. I wanted to show you!"
Her small hand grabbed the first rung of the ladder.
Rowan zipped his trousers just as Lily's head popped up over the edge of the loft.
She blinked, her large eyes adjusting to the dim light. She saw Rowan sitting in the hay, looking disheveled. She saw Elara standing nearby, smoothing down her skirt, her face flushed.
Lily tilted her head. She sniffed the air.
"It smells funny in here," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Like... salty milk?"
She climbed fully into the loft, holding a strange, elongated gourd in her hands.
"Look!" she said, oblivious to the tension. She thrust the phallic-shaped vegetable toward Rowan. "It looks just like the handle of your shovel! Isn't it funny?"
She giggled, hugging the vegetable to her chest. But then, her gaze dropped to the hay where Rowan had been lying.
There was a wet patch.
Lily stared at it. Then she looked at Elara's swollen lips. Then at Rowan.
A slow, curious dawn broke over her face. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but she knew it was a secret. And Lily loved secrets.
"Brother..." she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She stepped closer, clutching the vegetable. "Are you playing games without me?"
Sensual Question for the Reader - 👇👇👇
Little Sister Lily has interrupted the aftermath, and her curiosity is piqued by the "salty milk" smell and the secret atmosphere. She feels left out.
How should Rowan handle this delicate situation in the next chapter?
A) The "Biology" Lesson: Lily demands to know what the smell is. Rowan uses the "Gourd" she brought to explain how he "fertilizes" the crops... leading to her wanting to "help" with her hands.
B) The "Hiding" Game: Rowan claims they were playing Hide and Seek. Lily demands to play too, but insists on hiding under the blanket with Rowan to "keep warm" while Elara counts.
Comment your choice below!