Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Sister, dearest. ❯ Chapter 1

Sex with Sakura was nice. It was sweet and slow. Just like, it would be with Aya. She would be timid and unsure, like Sakura often was. However, her movements became more and bolder with each passing time. Aya would never become like that, she would hold her innocence like the delicate blossom she was.

 

He wanted Aya. He wanted her fingers to ghost over his chest. He wanted her lips to press against his. He fantasized about her with each thrust into Sakura's body. Sometimes even, go so far as to mouth her name.

 

AyaAyaAya

 

“Aya-san?”

 

Jarring out of his thoughts, Aya, Ran, whoever he was now fixed Sakura with a confused stare. He wants Aya to call him Ran. That was right he was here with her. Aya was in a coma. Right now.

 

“Aya-san? Are you alright?”

 

He said nothing to her but took a sip of his tea. That would be enough for her. She does not need him to speak to her constantly he knows that. She likes him to be with her, even when he was ignoring her. She likes talking of school and her track team. She likes telling him how much she is improving, despite the loss of her kidney. He smiles and sips his tea again.

 

She sighs and he knows she is becoming tired of this game. He wants to sleep with her. He wants to think of blue hair and eyes. He wants to think of a small body that he should never think of such a way. He wants to think of his sister, the sister he desperately wants to save.

 

Sakura stands, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape across the ceramic tile. She picks up her teacup and moves to take his. He pushes the porcelain cup toward her, to make her task easier. He stays seated at the table, listing to her place the cups in the sink. For her to wash later, he hoped.

 

“No one is home. They won't be for a while,” she says, inviting.

 

He stands, his own chair making the only noise in the tiny kitchen. He turns to see her standing with her back to him at the sink. Her hands are hidden from his view but he knows she is wringing them together in front of her. She gets nervous when she is bold. He wonders if Aya would wring her hands or blush. Sakura stopped blushing a while ago.

 

Because he is a man of few words, he walks to her. He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. He pulls her against him and begins to walk backwards, pressing his lips to her neck.

 

“In my room,” she whispers.

 

He stops walking and lets her go. He walks away from her and listens to her footsteps behind him. He always leads her to her room. He does not know why she feels the need to tell him that. Perhaps she makes up for his lack of words.

 

The room is small and bright. He turns off the light to make the bright color disappear. It distracts him. He hears her shut the door and he begins to undress. He takes his shirt off first and lets it fall to the floor in a rustle of fabric. Sakura is still by the door, watching.

 

“Come here,” he says.

 

She does as she is told and comes to his side. She places both of her hands on the flat planes of his stomach. She waits for him to kiss her he knows this. It is the same every time. He presses his lips to hers, her standing on her tiptoes. It is cute, he thinks.

 

He takes her hands off his chest and guides her to her bed. The bed dips under their combined weight and he moves to the middle of the mattress. The sheets bunch underneath them as he shifts their positions the way he likes them. She is underneath him, gazing at him adoringly and he looks down at her not seeing her.

 

Her short brown hair is longer, held in braids. Her eyes are wider, lighter. Her body is softer, not as athletic. Her voice is more cheerful and full of love. He sees and hears these things in his mind's eye.

 

She squirms underneath him. He realizes that he has taken too long to hold the exact picture of Aya in his thoughts. He smiles a rare smile at her, a smile that he reserves for Aya. She will see his smile tonight because she is Aya, if only for a moment.

 

He notices her relax and he pulls her shirt. The pressed cotton of the issued school uniform button down shirt, feels stiff to his touch. She arches her back to make the shirt easier to pull off. He throws the shirt hurriedly and begins working on the skirt.

 

She pushes his hands away and goes to take the skirt off herself. He takes this opportunity to take off his own pants and underwear. He kicks off the garments and he watches her slowly take off her remaining clothing.

 

Sakura shivers when she is completely naked, from the cold or shame he is not sure. She is crossing her arms across her breasts, obstructing his view. He smiles to himself, Aya would do that. He can see so much of her in Sakura that he does not move to take her hands away from her body. Aya would want him to be slow.

 

“Aya-san?”

 

He places his hands on her arms and tugs at them gently. She takes the hint and lets her arms fall to her side. She is looking up at him with a mix of nervousness and excitement. He eases her nerves by running his hand over one of her breasts. He likes the way it fits in his hand. The breast is small and the skin is soft and inviting. He leans down to press his lips against hers softly at first.

 

She kisses him back with a little more force than he is used to. He pulls back, his fantasy shattered. Aya would want him to take control, not the other way around. She makes a small noise underneath him as his thumb flicks her nipple. He leans into her for another kiss, one that he controls.

 

He feels her tongue against his bottom lip and he opens his mouth just enough. She moans in his mouth and he hears a different voice. He feels a different breast underneath his palm and he closes his eyes so he does not really have to see her.

 

She is writhing now, waiting for him to do something else. He lets go of her breast and moves from a top her. He leans on his side and puts his index and middle finger in his mouth. He opens his eyes to meet her own, watching his fingers as he pulls them out of mouth, slick with his salvia.

 

Her legs spread and she arches her back slightly. He reaches between her legs, running his other hand along a well-shaped thigh. He hears a sharp intake of breath and he slips one finger inside of her. She lets out her breath that she was holding, sighing dreamily. He notes the way her hips rise off the mattress in a desperate way, as he slowly moves his finger in and out of her.

 

He speeds up his pace and feels impatient. He can feel his body protesting the lack of touch from Sakura. She is gasping for air and she shudders. He pulls his finger out of her and brings it to his mouth. He licks the digit and smiles at her flushed appearance.

 

Her eyes are lidded and her chest is rising and falling with her sharp intakes of breath. He dips down to capture her lips again, making her taste herself on his tongue. She is pressing her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and her leg twines around his waist.

 

He reaches for himself to relieve some of the pressure he feels. She flutters her eyelashes and her face flushes. He stops touching himself to reach for her slender hand and guides it to him. He lets go of himself fully to place his hands on either side of Sakura's lithe body. He can feel her hand gingerly touching his erection.

 

She gives him a couple of experimental strokes, his lilac eyes flutter shut. She is moving her hand faster, kissing his neck. His breathing is harder but he says nothing to her, dipping down to lick along her collarbone. He likes the way her skin is sticky from sweat, his tongue tasting the salty tang of it.

 

“Stop,” he says, opening his eyes.

 

She does as he tells her and reaches for her nightstand. He watches her body squirm away from him, her hands digging trough a mass of papers in her nightstand's drawer. He sits back, impatient. Her fingers grasp the plastic wrapper she was searching for and she hands it to him. He takes the condom and tears the package open with his mouth. Touching himself once last time, he rolls the latex over his cock and he hauls her back over to him.

 

The breath she takes in is wavering, anticipating pain. He does not want Aya to feel pain; he reaches for her hair to stroke the silky strands. He bends so that he is over her, near her ear. He is whispering words that mean to reassure her, nonsense words. Her hands tentatively touch his back, arching hers when he enters her, slow and tender.

 

He does not move yet, relishing in the heat that surrounds him. He nips her ear, licking the rim. She whimpers beneath him and he begins to move. The pace he starts is one with out force, loving, gentle. She exhales and inhales sharply, she begins to say his-no his sister's name.

 

He closes his eyes again, seeing himself over the girl that he loves. He begins to mouth the name that Sakura is repeating like a mantra. She is beautiful underneath him, telling him he has done a good job. He has saved her and everything will be okay. They can live like this, together. It is not wrong, they are in love, he is the only one that loves her, and she will only ever love him.

 

He makes a noise low in his throat, his lower abdomen tightening. He feels her meet each of his harder and more erratic thrusts, he is moaning in her ear loudly. He tilts his head back and thrusts deep inside of her to come. He pulls out because she is always afraid of the condom braking. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he strokes himself lazily, finishing.

 

Her skin flushes and has a sweaty sheen over each inch. She is panting slightly and he hears himself breathing in rhythm with her pants. Pulling the condom off, he ties the end and throws in the wastebasket. He flops back onto the mattress, lying beside her. She throws and arm across his chest, nuzzling her face to his neck.

 

“Aya-san, are you sleeping here?” she asks, sleepily.

 

“No,” he replies, moving her arm off him.

 

He watches her roll over and worm her way under the covers. He smiles and picks up his thing, litter over the bedroom's floor. Hastily dressing himself, he kisses her forehead and leaves the room. The door muffles her `good-night'.

 

The night is cool on his face when he walks out of Sakura's small house. He walks slowly to his home and thinks of nothing but his sister, his beautiful sister. Her lying in a hospital bed, her face pale and motionless. She is there now and he is walking, walking in the crisp evening wind. He is enjoying himself and she is dancing with death. He thinks that he will bring her flowers tomorrow.