Fever was madness, or Rei would have it be as a fine veil to guard her desperate heart. She’d had the capacity to be the sort of capricious Kitato had made his element, that neighborhood girl with the boyish hair and wide smile. If any of the three in that house had bothered to remember it, some of Naho’s love for her had sprung from her bright flightiness in their youth. She’d been a slave to her moods and wants, dragging the boys on neighborhood adventures. Often enough, it had left Nahoya solving unnecessarily troublesome problems. Rei had probably fallen in love with the eldest Aikida for that, the same way she’d had a kind of unspoken understanding with the younger for their similar spirits.<br/><br/>Those things had all warped as they grew up. Perhaps attaching herself to Naho’s novel stability had somewhat buried the wilder parts of Rei. Certainly, it had abandoned whatever bond had existed between her and the boy who’d better understood her heart. She had forgotten that she had left so many parts of herself stifled by Nahoya’s impossible nurturing. She had denied that she had left Kitato behind for the shame of longing for a life she’d been purposeful in setting aside.<br/><br/>So then, there was something apologetic and cathartic, like returning to repair a long-standing grudge, as Rei threw her body to Kit’s hands and gasped for all acute attention she’d been pained for. It was a terrible thing that she did not see her devoted lover in the doorway, bearing witness to her uncensored confession. Surely, Naho would feel all the inadequacy she’d swallowed away, in the way her breath cascaded into little frustrated cries against Kit’s lips.<br/><br/>Kit peeled away her shirt and Rei’s body was ghastly in its eloquence. The sheen of sweat on her skin looked like she’d done it for his pleasure, rather than her illness. It was the difference in artistry then, what Rei was for each brother. Both sculptors, perhaps, but only one had become an artist. How she could flourish… it was no wonder she was desperate for him. When he laid her back, she could have seen Nahoya in the doorway but closed her eyes instead. Maybe, she didn’t want to see him.<br/><br/>She wore nothing under the shorts Kit pulled away, and her exposed mound was as lovely for him as the rest of her. Slick and willing to give him whatever taste of her suited him. How selfless, when she was so weak. When he pulled her back upright, Rei was moaning against Kitato’s tongue with a vulgar anticipation for the warm length between her thighs. How utterly unfettered she could be.<br/><br/>Rei gasped like she’d not expected the feel of him when he lifted her onto him. It was possible that some lurking corner of her heart had not, and the way her eyes grew wide and her breath hefted from her lungs, she seemed to have been clinging to it. Blinking twice, she must have seen Kitato clearly then. In that moment, she could have recoiled and pulled herself away. She could have pretended there was loyalty to his brother left to recover. But, that would be so unlike the Rei that had come to please him again and again, now.<br/><br/>She took up his rhythm, moving in agreement without too much assistance. She was better as a doll than driving force now, when her limbs were weak and her head was throbbing. It must have been some unhealthy addiction forming, that she continued basking in this sort of pleasure now. Surely, it was against her health’s best interest. “Mr. Aikida,” she whimpered for him again, like it was a title the younger brother had earned when he’d slayed her and gave to gasping as he treated her indelicately.<br/><br/>Rei shuddered when he whispered against her earlobe. “A thousand times,” she breathed. For repentance or to commit to her sin—really it didn’t matter.