He wanted to silence her when she protested his accusations. Little woman, that Naella had become, defending her own existence. Was it so impossible? He could have dreamed Iris. He mouth certainly distorted in the correct way that he'd seen and been enticed by when Naella would wipe her own mouth, a little gentler. It wasn't unthinkable that Naella would be so allowing after just one kiss. Maybe she had something dormant in her sweetness too.<br/><br/>The memories she called on while holding her skirt up made his stomach weak for her. What does it mean when a girl is being nostalgic while lifting her hem? He stepped back but not far enough to be outside of her reach. Because he didn't want to. "I remember." he said. It had been a horrible week. Sometimes he was mad and ignored her back, and sometimes he'd apologized like a chant.<br/><br/>His eyes rolled with pleasure when she touched him. He clasped those fingers to him and smelled her wrist where her pulse ran. He tried to drag deeply enough that he'd catch some of Iris's honey sweet there, to wake him up from madness, but none. Not like the lewd inside of the familiar mouth. "When you cried about Josh." he started. That tearfilled night that shouldn't have made him feel the things he carried from then on. "I... when you were breathing easier, I..." he started and let his hand remember, cupping her through her shirt, this all-purpose replica.<br/><br/>Really, he should have just held her while she sobbed, but after petting her waist enough, her gown had glided up. He'd touched her skin and it had been lovely. What's wrong with a brother that finds himself in his sister's misery? He couldn't stop there, and Naella hadn't said anything through her other complaints. Eventually, he'd been curious enough to wander onto her naked stomach, and then up to feel her softness. While it had felt like a natural progression of extended tenderness, it was not. Perhaps she'd needed affirmation, or she could not alienate another man, or she was taking pity, or he'd cornered her into it somehow. There was so many dark reasons that weren't affirmation.<br/><br/>Of course you're my beloved sister.<br/><br/>"Why did you let me?" he asked, spellbound now, because that scene itself had been treading denial, so that selective forgetfulness bled into now, were his doll was giving him her flawless performance. He squeezed firmer, and thought about all the things he usually weighted down. He dreamed them openly. "Did you want me to?" he asked, and his blood knew exactly what he wanted to hear, but not if he wanted Iris to say it. "Is it right that I wanted to?"