Half dressed with his hair still damp at the edges, Talwyn knocked on his door. He let her in wordlessly and continued dressing as she perched on the edge of his bed. Eyes keenly watching him like a curious cat that had caught sight of something that might squirm pleasingly beneath her paw.

Thomas pretended not to notice. He carried on dressing, slowly fastening the buttons from his elbow to wrist. Talwyn shifted closer to him, letting her calf brush against his and watched his hands.

“What are the buttons made of? Are they embroidered?” Said Talwyn. She tried to reach out and touch one as Thomas turned his arm outwards to let her toy with them between her fingertips.

“Couldn’t afford that. They’re just bone.” Thomas said as he watched her roll them between her fingers. She playfully popped one open next to his wrist, pressing her fingers against his skin.

Even that brief moment of contact warmed something in him. He twisted his arm out of her reach and continued fastening along the other forearm. The sensation of guilt crept over him, though he reminded himself he had nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing at all.

“There was a market in Favilros, it took up a side street off the main square. Heathens sold wares along it.” Said Thomas, glancing aside to see his sister’s reaction. It was gratifying to see her eyes widen in horrified curiosity. “They sold all sorts. It wasn’t too secretive. The kind of thing people pretend they don’t see because it brings them too much pleasure to be rid of it.”

“Thomas!” Talwyn’s voice was a scandalised hiss. “You didn’t dare go there did you?”

The only response she got was a wide, slightly nervous grin. Talwyn grabbed at his hand, both of hers gripping onto his fingers, impeding his progress to be dressed.

“What if something had happened to you? I hate even thinking that.” Said Talwyn. She pressed her lips against his knuckles and then sighed heavily. The warmth of her breath so close to his skin was making that guilt crawl up his ribs. Thomas moved his hand to cup at the side of Talwyn’s face.

“Nothing happened to me. I’m right here.”

The watery smile that Talwyn gave him did him no favours. Thomas watched as she kissed at his palm, pausing to examine the lines of his gift. The dull ache of something he fought to ignore flared up his palm and to his wrist as she kissed at his fingers with delicate precision. Talwyn brought his middle finger into her mouth, keeping her gaze low as if fascinated by his hand. The warmth of her tongue made him feel helplessly needy.

Thomas snorted a short breath through his nose as he let her take another finger past her lips. He could feel her tongue working over his skin and curious obscenity had him pushing those trapped fingers against the side of her mouth.

Her lips parted as he held her tongue between those fingers, feeling spit pooling in the crux of them. A hot, ragged part of his mind wanted to watch her drool over him like that. Talwyn was always so composed and effortlessly graceful, that seeing a line of spittle begin to work its way down her chin bordered on absurdity. An oddity. It was only when her gaze flicked up from under her lashes to hold his own that the reality of what he was doing struck him.

A crushing wave of guilt was enough to move his hand away with a grunt of annoyance but didn’t make the slightest difference to his cock. It sat hunched and straining in his trews, sullenly tensing as he moved across the room to his desk.

“I-I got you something. From the market.” Thomas hated the way his voice wavered. Knowing how much it would please her to hear him like that. She always loved to hear him whine and stammer.

“Mhm?” Said Talwyn only half listening, wiping at her chin with the back of her hand.

Thomas slid his thumbnail along the underside of the inside cover, separating the now unglued paper and leather edge. It was enough space to hide a thin strip of cloth. A deep, rich crimson like fresh blood was dotted with dark lines of black linen thread. Thomas held it in his hand, the unease of its presence a fine distraction.

“Oh Thomas! Papa and I made that book special for you…” Talwyn tutted and tilted her head. “What is that?”

“A bookmark. From the market.” Said Thomas. He sat back on the bed and let the bookmark lay across his fingers. That nervous smile was back, he could feel it. He didn’t want to grip the cloth, despite its beauty.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. So bright.” Said Talwyn.

Thomas gently placed it into her hand. He watched her fingers run over the stitching, pressing greedily into the texture of it as if she could pull the colour into herself with enough force. In her concentrated silence he admired her. It was so much easier to enjoy her company when her intense scrutiny wasn’t crawling over him. A vengeful urge that truly made it clear to him that they were siblings provoked him to speak.

“It’s beetle red.” Said Thomas.

Talwyn’s grip went slack for a moment, then viciously tight. She pressed the cloth against her chest to hide it from view. Thomas chuckled, watching as she fumbled with it to chance another look before hissing at him.

“Thomas! Mother will beat you-beat us both if she finds this!” Talwyn’s own devotion had clearly grown slack in recent years but it didn’t surprise Thomas in the least that she reacted with such fearful noises.

“Then don’t let her find it.” Said Thomas, pressing what little advantage he had. He pressed his hand over hers, the bookmark, blood red against her shirt and her chest. “Keep it hidden. You like secrets. Don’t you?”

Thomas idly wondered why the back and forth of their banter had always been like this. His fingers pushed past hers to grope at her tits through the cloth of her shirt, watching her squirm as she contended with her own inner conflicts. The weight of one of her breasts against his palm was more gratifying than he’d liked to admit.

Whatever pressure was put on one another until one of them broke, was something he had always found comfort in. He found a nipple and pinched it roughly. Talwyn had pushed too far before. Ruined it. Even as he tugged at her skin, through the barrier of her clothes, he hesitated.

“Are you going to tell her?” Said Thomas, watching her face. Talwyn pursed her lips together, looking like a bad taste had flooded her mouth. She shook her head. It wasn’t enough. Thomas pushed his hand under her shirt and found her nipple again through her chemise. He pinched the stiff flesh and twisted it until she gasped and feebly tried to pull away.

“Say it.” Thomas insisted.

“I wont tell her!” Whined Talwyn as she still clutched at the bookmark. The petulant tone in her voice struck out at Thomas like a crop to a horse’s hindquarters. He pushed her onto her back, straddling her hips with purpose. Some effort was spent tugging and pulling Talwyn’s clothing out of her belt, while she covered her face with her hands. One still clutched the bookmark fiercely between clenched fingers.

Thomas couldn’t repress a groan of satisfaction as he got to put palm to flesh again. He knew it tormented her to be unable to touch at herself while he did this. When his fingers plucked and tweaked at her tits until the skin was bright red and swollen, aching for some kind of gentle touch, he stopped.

Breathing heavily he noted with perverse contentment that Talwyn was still staring at the lush red of the bookmark in her hand. Close to her eyes so she couldn’t see anything else. It almost matched the flush of her cheeks.