71 — Corrosion of Morality III

…

"I fucking can't."

Drip.

Tears.

"Live without..."

Drip, drop.

​They came unbidden.

"Without you."

And she fell flat against my shoulder, sobbing quietly. I had no response, because all I could do was breathe, deeply. She shook. Trembled. Clawed my shoulders. Inhaled my scent. And seemingly calmed down.

I lay there, taking it all in. Processing, yes, I was processing, because what she said wasn't to be taken lightly. Ah, but I've known. I've looked under the bed to see what hides there. I've opened the closet. I had seen the signs.

But never the confirmation. The confession.

She pulled back, wiping the tears off her eyes.

My can, having fallen during the unceremonious push, now fizzed as white liquid poured and trickled along the carpet floor and the edge of the bed. It left a trail, a spot, and a pool. A rather pathetic one at that. I didn't like how it represented how I was feeling about now, useless, but at a loss as to what to do about it.

Her soft palms were so warm. She cupped my cheeks, a thin smile drawing on her. It looked beautiful. She looked beautiful. My chest tightened. My head began to spin. I still had difficulty processing it. All the events leading to where we were now were too dissonant from the thoughts of just minutes before.

Everything moved in a flash, but everything stood still, as if stuck in an unending moment that wouldn't fade or disappear. It wasn't a dream, I was lucid, aware, the realization coming all too quickly, in bits and pieces, like crumbles falling off an avalanche, gaining weight, a consistency.

I knew the truth, the thing that had been beating around the bush all this time, like some sort of master delinquent. Some sort of traitor. Because it had come out now, exposed, at long last, no more masks or hidden agendas.

"Jae-il... I... I... I'm a bad Noona." Mia told me. Her lips curled in a rueful smile. One that looked absolutely radiant despite the wretched tears soaking her cheeks, her chin, her lips. "A terrible sister. So, so bad, because of you."

"......"

"I'm a selfish bitch. And an egotistical, childish little coward. And I..." She breathed out a shuddering gasp. "You... make me crazy." She flinched as the words came out. "You make me so fucking crazy, you have no idea. I can't stop. I can't do anything but think about you. Can't stand the thought that you're not there when I'm at home. It kills me. Drives me insane. I've been sick. Haven't been eating well. My fucking grades dropped because of you, Jae-il. Do you have any idea? How stupid that is? God, I hate you for it so much..."

My fists clenched, jaw setting hard.

She gulped down thickly. "I hate how you do this to me. And even... even if you stop today, right now. I doubt I'll get better. Won't ever feel anything like before. Not the same. I'm scared by how intense it is. I'm scared and I've been trying to get over this thing, whatever this is. But I just can't. I just can't."

For a short few seconds my mind didn't connect the dots at all, simply didn't associate the meaning or intent of her words to her confession. Some part of me still desperately looked for excuses, just to not make it real. Clearly, a decision had been made here.

Mia made her decision. She could've chosen not to speak these words. Or deny them. Reverse them, hide them, repress them. And we'd have trudged on through a limbo, neither together, nor apart, and yet painfully connected.

But she decided to come clean, only to expose how dirty she felt. The ugly and beautiful of it all was that her own feelings weren't something she wanted to accept even to herself, let alone others.

"Noona..." I began—but I was never given the chance to properly articulate my thoughts into proper words as she put a finger against my lip.

"Jae-il." Mia said in a breathy exhale. "Don't. For once. Stop trying to make excuses or stop me. Just... don't. I know, I know, okay?" She lowered her head. "God, I know exactly how messed up and twisted all of this is."

At least, she knew.

Her face scrunched up, more tears slid down her cheek.

"If this is wrong." She licked her bottom lip and parted them. My breath caught up on itself. "Then... what the fuck can even be right."

Her tear-filled gaze lifted, bearing the entirety of the world on her eyes, on her expression. She stared at me, deeply.

I still couldn't believe that all of the shit I went through in my first life, all the shit, all the experiences—everything that I've lived, felt, learned, lost, and loved in that first lifetime could culminate to this singular moment—where someone, my own family, looked at me in such a way I could've never fathomed.

So fucking filthy. So wrong. And yet she did it, with all the self awareness one can muster to know of their own vices and mistakes. Who was I anyway to point a judgemental finger towards her? She'd never tortured a broken man begging for mercy. She'd never stabbed people in the throat until nothing but chokes and the bubbling of blood followed her strikes. Or seen the red blood splatter that flowed like a river, the widened eyes of pure and unfiltered, undeniable horror and realization when the victim saw a glimpse of their own death in your eyes.

And the worst?

I didn't regret that. Not then, not now, probably never would. I had long made peace with my inner demons. Shook hands with them. Laughed at myself for thinking I was mad to begin with.

So... facing all of the aforementioned crimes, jury and judges, are the rules and values of a normal and stable society something that should apply to me, even knowing, even recognizing what kind of monster I was?

"Jae-il...?" By the time I came back into focus, blinking out of a stupor, Mia was inches away. Literal inches. At some point, she leaned in, closed in, to search for an answer. An answer to a question I couldn't quite piece together just yet, at least, until she closed the final gap. "Tell me, does this disgust you?"

Oh, how I wished I could.

A normal person might've already pushed her off themselves and screamed.

"Tell me."

How could I say yes

"Jae-il..."

Instead, all I could do was look into her eyes.

"Because if you want me to stop—" Her words were hot, breathy, nervous.

"I don't want you to stop." I found my voice. Fucking finally. All this thinking and zoning out and daydreaming nonsense, and I couldn't manage to speak the whole time? Good lord. "I think the situation warrants some time to wrap our heads around it but... I can't see the reason I should say no. Or push you off. Or run away. Or get a psych exam done and diagnosed. Or do any of that. For now..." I was willing to concede one point. "It doesn't disgust me. And it might not do that to me forever." I lifted a hand and ran a thumb across the fullness of her lips.

Her breath hitched, then shuddered.

"Wait..." She blinked, rapidly, grabbing me by the collar of my jersey. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?!" Her eyes glimmered, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Are you saying that there's a chance that, if we let ourselves go a bit crazy—"

"—Noona—"

"Went completely nuts and let ourselves be led on by this fucked-up impulse—"

"Noona."

She sucked in a sharp inhale, her pupils dilated as her mouth slowly, agonizingly curved in a fiendish little grin. I blinked. Oh. This couldn't be good.

"Jae-il." A siren song's undertone lulled the listener's psyche to be convinced, lured, tempted, and fooled into belief in the power she wielded. Mia wielded her powers with the sort of ease a woman so attractive should not be allowed to exercise. She planted her hands firmly on my chest. "Can... we kiss?"

I wonder…

I liked to think I was a creature of logic, and I had to reason with the devil herself at this moment. I shifted a little.

"Noona, I think we should talk a bit longer about this. And think about it more seriously. So many questions we haven't addressed and answered yet. You do know that my career will have me constantly under scrutiny. Basically, the slightest whiff of anything scandalous—"

My eyes widened as a wet, soft, delicious warmth enveloped my bottom lip. Her mouth. It was her mouth. Her lips were locked with mine and my whole world ground to a screeching halt.

Then the breathlessness came and my pulse spiked. Her lips slid softly over mine and I could taste her subtle lip-gloss. And her teeth—oh, those sharp, canine teeth gently gnawing and scraping against the flesh of my lips.

I placed my hands on her shoulders, applying a light pressure. A pressure that faded into absolute compliance, as the faint, coquettish growl she gave was as delicate a sound as a kitten's first mewling. She shifted. Moved. Ground her hips down onto me. Now, to a physically healthy, perfectly straight fifteen year old boy, even rubbing it against a wall would give them an instant boner.

Having a mature twenty-something year old, gorgeous Noona moving and rolling over my private part...

The tightness and friction. Her on top of me. Her nose bumping softly against mine.

Our breathing, synchronized and hot.

All of a sudden her hips paused their motions. There was a hesitant twitch, followed by a tentative wriggle. A groan. A bead of sweat that rolled right between her cleavage.

There was a coiled tightness in my gut. And a distinct urge. And heat. Hot, unbearable, nerve-scratching heat that swept my entire lower region like an inferno. I grabbed her face, clutched it within my hands as if my life depended on it, as if I was some sort of fucking savage. I could feel her sharp gasp, the little huff she let out as our mouths crashed together again.

Her lips were slightly parted. My tongue slipped past them. And I was met with the wet, warm cavern of her own tongue, eagerly meeting mine. It was like a slick worm, warm, slippery, tasty in the obsence knowledge of who that tongue belonged to.

My hands roamed from her face, down her neck, tracing the delicate curve of her collarbones, to her shoulders. My fingers dug into the soft fabric of her hoodie, bunching it up in my fists, pulling her even closer, before making a pit stop on her ass, squeezing the pliable, denim-clad mass of flesh and sinking my last few months worth of frustration into that singular, vulgar act.

She moaned into my mouth, and it was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard. It spoke a lot about me how it was my own sister's mewl that did me in, and not some random girl. Not a proper, well-educated girl from a respectable family. Not the girl next door. Neither a childhood friend. I didn't care. I was a mess of teenage hormones and a re-incarnated Brazilian maniac who had done far worse things in his past. There was no higher ground for me to stand on.

I hissed, roughly grabbing the back of her neck, her hair, and her eyes snapped wide open in pure, lustful haze. I could've very well been a mirage desert for how she was looking at me. Like I was salvation. A prize. A treasure.

Her hands were under my shirt, her touch searing my skin. Her nails raked lightly against my stomach. I arched into her touch, a low growl escaping my throat. By then, my cock was so hard it was aching. If there was any shred of sanity left in me, it had abandoned ship a long time ago. The smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her.

It was all too much.

And it was not enough.

My hands moved up, under her hoodie, over her smooth, hot skin. I felt the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine.

The moment she rolled her hips again, I had to grind my teeth not to declothe myself right there and then.

The faint rustling of trousers being undone. They thundered in my ears. I looked down.

Fingers. Long, pale, soft. Ghostly and nimble. So unerringly skillful. They reached down, no hesitation.

I stilled.

There was a tense breath.

My eyes opened.

"Noona."

"It's okay, Jae-il. I know." Mia said, wistfully, a little sadly. "We won't go all the way."

I huffed. "We shouldn't have gone even halfway..." I said that, but I was way past the point to give it a single fuck. I wished I could've been more in control, and part of me hoped it'd be Mia herself to put a stop to this madness, because I wasn't confident I had the sobriety of mind to do it.

"Why can't we just forget about being sister and brother for just one second and think for ourselves?" She whispered, gulping, recovering her breathing, yet rearing to lose it all again. "Does it really matter who you love?"

I stared at her.

​She stared back at me, almost expecting an answer.

"There's lines, and..."

"And rules." She continued, eyes half-lidded, lazy, teasing, absolutely sexy. "I know...."

"We can't kiss in public."

"I know..."

She said, and as if to defy the very nation, kissed me.

"We can't hold hands."

"I know..."

"We can't be too close."

"Hmhm."

"Can't look at me the way you are right now."

"Uh-huh."

She smiled.

"What else can't I do in public, lil' bro?"

"There are many things I can think of." I smirked.

"Like?"

"Like..."

We were breathing into each other's faces.

Not once did I think of stopping her from pulling down the hem of my jersey and slipping her hand beneath my pants.

The slide of her bare skin down my thigh felt maddening.

And when they curled around me... God, the whole of my consciousness and reason vanished without a trace, leaving a thing filled with lust and desire and need. Not it hadn't been there before, but now she was holding me firmly, her thumb pressed against the prominent vein on my shaft.

She kissed me. Softly, deeply, warmly, tenderly, desperately, fervently—all and none of the above. She sucked and tasted and took in as much as she could until both of us were breathless, dishevelled, dazed and trembling with pure, burning want.

I'd forgotten what had been holding me back.

Wasn't sure I had anything left in me to want to hold her back.

We said there'd be nothing more than this. That even when crossing lines, there are still limits. But I didn't feel like playing around, and Mia was even more serious than I was.

"You're so big." She murmured, her voice husky, her eyes filled with awe.

Her tongue trailed from the edge of my lips. Then down, all the way across the jugular, nipping softly, teasing the hollow of my neck. She traced a line further down, to my pecs, until the fabric stopped her descent. She pursed her lips in frustration. I chuckled, breathlessly.

"Take it off." She said, eyes narrowed.

"You do it first." I challenged, sitting up a little.

"No, you do it first."

Her lips drew a beautiful smirk.

I was quick to give in. Hormones and everything. A lifetime of celibacy will make anyone jump at an opportunity, whether it'd be wise or not. My fingers had already lifted the edges of my jersey by the time my conscious thoughts had properly caught up with her request. I lifted it overhead, and she helped by yanking it off of me and throwing it behind her.

"Yes." Mia purred as she reached down and flattened her palms against my bare chest. Her fingers splayed and glided across my skin in slow, smooth strokes. "Gosh, you're so... you're so..." She gulped, not able to compute a proper word for whatever it was she struggling to describe.

"You're not forgetting something, are you?" I reminded her. Ah, here I was, willfully requesting this older sister of mine to declothe herself for my own viewing pleasure. I've become the best type of degenerate.

Mia flashed a brilliant grin. She quickly pulled the white hoodie off herself, throwing it away to her side. I couldn't even check to see where it'd fallen, as the next moment the woman's lips descended on mine again and I was forced back down.

When she pulled away to breathe, I found myself staring.

This was my first time seeing my sister like this. To be frank, and as much of an admission of depraved, immoral, and definitely moronic degeneracy as this may appear to some, but, seeing my sister half-naked atop of me, lips red, moist, skin glistening in the faint sheen of a developing sweat, wasn't the sort of view that one forgot easily.

And I wasn't at all able to feign naivete, pretend ignorance, or convince myself of my inability to control my own actions.

It was at that moment that, all things considered, this had become a point-of-no-return moment.

Even going forward.

Especially going forward.

It didn't matter what happened in the future. How we'd tackle this. Or even address it or deal with it in any logical manner.

Because, really, this had to be the singular point of our own personal endgame.

This had to be the beginning and the end of the person known as Jae-il.

My most important victory in this life, and undoubtedly my hardest downfall.

I wondered...

How hard would this bite me back in the ass in the future? I'd faced down consequences before. Had stared into the eyes of men whose lives I was about to end. Had felt the recoil of a pistol in my hand, the finality of it settling in my bones like marrow. I've always known it was a path of self-destruction. An irredeemable one. Just as I knew the consequences for even thinking of doing the unspeakable to this woman. She, who shared my DNA, my same nose, my same eyes, the same blood type. We were cut from the same cloth, a cursed one, at that.

Maybe I had been a fool all my life.

Maybe I deserved this.

Maybe it was my destiny to fall into the deepest pits of sin because I'd never really repented for what I'd done as Jair Campinho. Look at me now, Mãe. 'What kind of man I was turning into. Forgive this son of yours.'

"Jae-il." Mia beheld me. There was no smile on her face. No more tears. All that remained was determination and clarity. Her beautiful amber eyes had a particular glow in that moment. Almost unnatural. Or supernatural. Definitely unusual, but no less entrancing. "Stay still, little brother. I'm gonna make you feel reeeeal good~"

And then she began to tie her hair.