This wasn’t what you wanted, what you’d planned (had there even been one?), but- There Imouto-chan was, bare and flushed right before your eyes. Mouth parted, soft pants and kittenish mewls filling the air as Yori’s hands slid across sweat-slick skin. Thighs trembling, spread eagerly for Yori’s touch. Chest heaving, nipples tight and dark, saliva-damp from Yori’s attentions.
You hadn’t wanted this, not- this. That was the face you wanted to see - flushed and teary and loving, beloved - but it wasn’t because of you. Not because of your kiss, your touch, your love. Imouto-chan… Iku only became that way for Yori. Only showed that side of her because Yori agreed to it (and it would come back to bite you in the end, Yori’s plans nearly always did).
Yori, heated and desperate - couldn’t help looking, couldn’t help but want to be him, be in his place. Long fingers that knew how and where to touch; lips and teeth and tongue dragging a symphony of sounds from Iku’s throat. So obviously experienced in the mysteries of Iku’s body.
And you remember, so well, the feel of him close to you. Breaths intermingling as you almost, almost-
But you didn’t return to Yori the kiss you stole from a sleeping Iku. And you can’t stop wondering if Yori’s lips would feel the same against your own as Imouto-chan’s had. As soft and accepting or firm and demanding, bruising against your own?
The slow glide of fingers and- yes. You could have had so many in your bed - money and power and looks go far - but this is better than anything you’ve had before. Just the grip-slip-slide of your own fingers on your cock, a soft tug on your balls- Nothing excessive but just watching- You’re so keyed up it’s only- You just-
Iku’s cries, fingers tangled with Yori’s on her clit. Gasping, hitching pants - Yori Yori Yori breathed from her lips like a prayer.
And Yori - Iku Iku please Iku please - pulling out at the last, condom removed and spilling himself across Iku’s quivering thighs (marking his territory as surely as the clover ring collaring her finger). His eyes slide to meet yours, heavy and satisfied and-
That’s all it takes, pushing you over the edge with a bitten-back cry.
When you come back to yourself, trembling and wet and- You watch as Iku cradles Yori to her breast, sheets rucked up about their hips and focused so intently upon one another.
They’re mere feet away - in easy touching range - but you’ve never felt more alone.