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Simon slides a hand up her thigh. “Would you like me to stop, darling?”
Kristin’s breath shudders, and she shuts her eyes, shaking her head. “No. Please.”
Her brother nudges her nose with his playfully, his lips mere breaths away from hers. “Always so polite, my pretty girl.”
Kristin can’t take his teasing anymore, his fingers slowly undoing the ribbon of her collar, dropping the sleeves of her nightgown down her shoulders.
It’s so natural to her, the sensation of his lips against hers. She’s cradling his face in her hands, and opened her mouth experimentally, coaxing his tongue with hers.
Simon pulls away, his face twisting into a dark sneer. “Kristin. Who have you kissed before me? Was it Marlowe?”
Kristin’s eyes widen, absolutely aghast at his accusation. “No Simon! Of course not–you’re–this–”
Simon’s shoulders relax and he smiles, her white-blonde lashes fluttery like feathers when he presses their lips together again–except this time–something’s shifted.
“Up,” he instructs her, and her cheeks glow a deep, cool red thanks to the ridiculous rouge she was playing with. Her face lights up with the beautiful swirl of bruise-colors and he exhales, doing his best to measure his breathing, but it’s almost impossible. He’s always breathless in her presence.
She slowly raises her arms, and he pulls the baby pink cotton of her dress over her head, relishing in her little breaths and moans.
–
Earlier that night, Kristin had been dabbing purple-pink rouge on her cheeks with her fingertips, blowing kisses in the mirror while humming ‘Love is in Control’ by Donna Summer. Simon had walked up behind her, looking at her through the reflection, transfixed, kissing her neck as she squirmed in his grasp. “That tickles, Simon!”
He glanced over at her makeup with a raised brow, her eyeshadow and lipstick spread over the counter of the hostel in France they’ve just rented, (Paid in cash. No questions asked.).
He laughed into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo - marigold and apricot. It had reminded him of summers in Massachusetts, Kristin wiping sweat off her forehead in her white gingham ensemble, her long hair tied up with a ribbon ( “Oh this weather is absolutely unbearable, Simon!” )
Simon dabbed his thumb with saliva and begun rubbing it on Kristin’s cheek like he was trying to remove a smudge. “Why are you hiding your pretty face?”
Kristin shut her eyes and tried to shoo him away. “I’m not hiding anything! Donna Summer does her makeup like this, and she looks wonderf–”
That was when Simon spun her around and kneeled down, finally eye-level with her. “You shine brighter than anyone in the world, my angel, effortlessly so.”
–
It was Kristin who kissed him first.
Simon kissed back with no time to spare, his mouth rough on hers, biting and pulling at her lips, and Kristin winced. She let out a tiny mewl, like a newborn kitten, as he dipped his head down, trailing kisses down the expanse between her neck and shoulder.
And that was how they got to their current state.
--
The sounds of Simon unbuckling his belt, and Kristin’s dress being pulled up and over her head, filling the air in the room.
His touch was gentle like his sister was made of glass, like any sudden movement under Simon’s touch would have her shattered into a million pieces. But no, not her. Maybe Emma Lewis–she’d make for quite an interesting canvas. But Kristin is a body of work. Untouchable. Perfect. His.
“Ç a fait mal mais j'aime ça ,” Kristin whispers into his ear as he bites against her shoulder, and Simon pants against her pale chest. How could she tease him like this?
“Tu me rends folle, mon cheri,” Simon hums against her lips, enjoying the array of sounds he could elicit from her.
Her primrose-blonde hair casting a golden ring around her like a halo as he pushes her down on the bed–he’s almost gotten all that foolish makeup off her.
Simon marveled at her beauty, the glimmer in her blue eyes as she looked at him, the way he could feel her center blooming against his touch like a hibiscus in the springtime. Or blood gushing out of a wound.
The thought makes him twitch, but he had promised her he’d behave–they couldn’t risk getting caught. Nothing in the world of the living or the dead would pry him away from her again, so he had to resist his temptations.
He’d resolve to use her to satiate his cravings.
–
Simon maneuvers her closer, fingertips snaking up her inner thighs, feeling her chest rise and fall to match his–their hearts beating as one, and Kristin’s body is on fire, her every nerve ending alight with sensation. What had she been missing out on her whole life? Can this moment never end?
He travels down her body, settling between her legs, and he locks eyes with her as he pulls her underwear to the side, gripping her legs over his shoulder as she writhes and twists under his touch.
“My darling,” He pants, licking a stripe up her thigh and down her knee. “Be strong for me.”