Chapter 3: Sleep with your brother.

After dinner, the warmth of the shared meal lingered in the air, but tension simmered beneath the surface as Linda cleared the plates. She glanced around the table at her family, her expression a mix of hospitality and happiness. 'Richard and Lucas, it's getting late, and the roads are no good this time of night. Why don't you both stay over? We have plenty of space.' Richard nodded gratefully, but Linda's next words hit Elena like a cold splash of water. 'Since there are only two bedrooms, Elena, you'll have to share with your brother Lucas for the night, okay?'

Elena's fork clattered against her plate. Shock widened her eyes behind her glasses, her heart pounding in her chest as a wave of disbelief crashed over her. 'What!' she shouted, the word bursting out before she could stop it. She slapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment and rising anger. Her gaze snapped to her mother, accusatory and sharp—Linda knew better. Elena's room was her sanctuary, her private world of soft lights, aesthetic posters, and the hum of her gaming setup. No one invaded it, especially not like this. The thought of Lucas, her newly appointed brother , encroaching on that space made her stomach twist with vulnerability.

Linda laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck as she avoided her daughter's glare. 'Elena’s an introvert, you see—she's possessive of her space. But I'm sure she can spare a night to bond with her brother.' Her voice turned pleading, laced with that maternal guilt that always softened Elena's resolve just a fraction. Elena's mind raced, a storm of frustration and protectiveness swirling inside her. How could her mother do this? Force her into this uncomfortable closeness.

Elena whipped her gaze to Lucas, brows furrowed in silent demand: *Say something. Object. Don't make me do this.* He lounged back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, that devilish smirk playing on his lips as his grey eyes met hers, unblinking. He shrugged, broad shoulders rolling under his tee, voice casual as worn denim. "I'm fine with anything."

Trapped. Elena mumbled a tight "Fine" through gritted teeth, shoving her chair back with a scrape that echoed her frustration. The rest of the cleanup blurred—stacking dishes that clinked wetly, the soapy scent of detergent sharp in her nose—Lucas stare burning into her back the whole time, tracking her every bend and reach, making her acutely aware of her ass shifting under the loose sweats, nipples still stiff against her shirt.

Upstairs, the hallway light buzzed faintly as Elena pushed open her bedroom door, the cozy dimness enveloping them like a hug. Posters of indie games curled at the edges on deep purple walls, fairy lights strung low casting a soft glow over her queen bed piled with mismatched pillows and a rumpled comforter that smelled of her vanilla body lotion. Her gaming setup hummed in the corner—RGB keyboard glowing blue, dual monitors dark but alive with standby power, controllers tangled on a shelf amid empty energy drink cans. The air held her scent, clean cotton and a hint of her subtle arousal from dinner, thicker now in the confined space.

"Shower's there," she muttered, jerking a thumb toward the attached bathroom door without meeting his eyes, shoving a fresh towel into his hands. The fabric was soft, warmed from the linen closet, contrasting the rough calluses on his palms that brushed hers. "I'll grab you some of Dad's old nightwear. Just... shower first." Her voice pitched higher at the end, anxiety threading through as she turned toward the hall linen closet.

She barely made two steps before the rustle of fabric hit her ears. Turning back, panic spiked—Lucas was already peeling off his shirt, tugging it over his head in one fluid motion. The black tee whispered off sweat-damp skin, revealing a torso carved from stone: pecs thick and defined, abs ridged in a deep V that arrowed down to his belt, a faint trail of dark hair dusting his chest and narrowing over taut skin glistening with a sheen of post-dinner sweat. Broad shoulders flexed as he tossed the shirt aside, the musky tang of his body hitting her like a wave, male and potent, making her mouth water involuntarily.

Elena's hands shot out on instinct, grabbing for the shirt mid-air before it landed, cheeks blazing. "Why did you undress *here*? You could have done that in the bathroom!" Her voice came out cute-angry, high and petulant, glasses fogging slightly from her quickened breaths as she clutched the warm shirt to her chest, inhaling his scent trapped in the fibers—salt and woodsmoke that twisted her gut with fresh foreign need.

Lucas smirk deepened, predatory, as he toed off his boots with dual thuds, socks following. He stood there half-undressed, jeans slung low on his hips, belt buckle glinting. "So you really don't remember?" His voice dropped low, gravel wrapping around each word, eyes darkening as they raked her from glasses to baggy hem.

Elena's head tilted, confusion furrowing her brow, heart slamming against her ribs. The shirt muffled her stuttered "Don't remember *what*?" Her fingers tightened on the fabric, thighs pressing together against the fresh gush of wetness soaking her panties, clit aching from the proximity of his half-naked heat radiating across the room.

He stepped closer, closing the gap in two strides, his bare feet silent on her carpet. Big hands—warm, rough—slid under her oversized sweater without warning, palms spanning her soft waist completely, fingers digging into the yielding flesh there, hidden layers be damned. He pinched, firm and teasing, the sting blooming hot under her skin, sending a jolt straight to her core that made her pussy clench hard, slickness trickling down her inner thigh.

Elena gasped, sharp and needy, anger flashing through the haze. "What are you *doing*? And why did you pinch me?" She squirmed, but his grip held, thumbs stroking the pinched spot now, soothing fire with pressure that made her nipples diamond-hard against her bra.

"You still don't remember?" Lucas murmured, leaning in, his breath hot against her ear, carrying the faint bitterness of wine. Then, softer, laced with memory: "Elena? Maybe this'll jog your memory, drunken rabbit."

His mouth crashed onto hers before she could process, lips firm and demanding, tasting of chocolate and sin. One hand stayed at her waist, pinning her soft body against his hard planes—the ridged abs pressing into her belly, heat seeping through her clothes—while the other tangled in her hair, tilting her head for deeper access. His tongue swept in, bold and slick, coaxing hers with a low growl that vibrated through her chest. The kiss dragged her under, raw and consuming, her glasses bumping his cheek as she melted, hands fisting his discarded shirt against his bare back, feeling the flex of muscle under sweat-slick skin.

Confusion warred with hunger in her mind—*Elena? Drunken rabbit? What the fuck*—but her body betrayed her, hips rocking forward instinctively, grinding her soaked pussy against the hard ridge of his cock straining his jeans. The friction dragged a moan from her throat into his mouth, wet and desperate, the sound echoing in her cozy room amid the hum of her PC fans. His free hand slid lower, cupping her ass through the baggy sweats, squeezing the plush flesh, fingers dipping toward the cleft where heat radiated, promising more.

She broke the kiss gasping, lips swollen and tingling, glasses askew. "W-wait... who...?" But her voice cracked, breath ragged, pussy throbbing empty and needy, the pinch mark on her waist still pulsing under his thumb. Lucas eyes burned into hers, smirk gone feral, cock twitching against her belly as he ground back once, deliberate, the denim rasp teasing her clit through layers.

"You'll remember soon enough, Elena," he rasped, nipping her lower lip, drawing a fresh whimper. His hand under her sweater pushed higher, palm gliding up her bare stomach—soft skin quivering under his touch—aiming for the underside of her breast, thumb brushing the edge of her bra. The room's vanilla scent mixed with his musk and her arousal, thick and heady, as he lifted her.