We were in yet another dingy hotel room barely fit for the cockroaches, owning only whatever we could transport in the old beat-up station wagon.
But at least we still had each other.
I sighed with a saddened weariness as I noted the lone bed, large enough for us both but clearly about as old as the well-trampled carpet. The once-white walls were definitely stained with decades of dirt, smoke, the unblinking glare of sunlight, and -- I guessed -- dried streaks of well-aged semen. The table by the window appeared to be made of a hard plastic, not actual wood, a fact which cheapened the hotel room even more. I noticed several significant rips in the faded orange curtains, one rip significant enough that if the lone overhead light was turned on, we would have no privacy at night unless we went into the bathroom.
The bathroom was not much better. The faucet at the sink was dripping slowly. I could not identify the growth around the drain in the bathtub. Water stains dotted the bathroom ceiling along a specific line, indicating a leaking section of pipe.
But after nearly four months on the run, not knowing where we were heading but deathly certain that we needed to run, this was as good a "home" as any, at least for the next few days.
"I'm not sure I like that smell," he commented, closing and securing all five locks on the door to the hotel room.
I finally set my duffel bag on the floor beside the bed, fatigue already getting the better of me even though the sun had yet to set.
"Hey, sis."
And that was the reason we were running: blood.
I straightened up and leaned into my big brother's hold, trying to fight back the tears which almost continually tore at my heart: tears of love, yet tears of fear.
"How much longer can we run?" I asked in a nearly-choked whisper, trying desperately to hold the tears at bay. I clutched my protector, my companion, my confidant, my lover.
"The question really is, where can we run to where we will truly be safe? Short of smuggling ourselves out of the country or finding a private island in the middle of the Pacific, I don't know that we can ever truly stop running."
His realism broke the dam, and the tears gushed forward, staining his old t-shirt. I could smell him, as well as the sweat and the grime which had accumulated upon him over the past few days since we had last been able to afford a hotel room, and somehow the scents mixed together into a wonderful calming concoction. Yet I could not complain, for I looked and smelled the same.
"We should eat," my big brother suggested. "I thought I saw a greasy diner about a block up the road."
I shook my head. "We don't know when either of us will get work again. We'd better save the money. If nothing else, we'll need gas to get out of this town."
He nodded, then kissed my forehead. Instinctively, my lips sought his, and for a moment, my life was filled with nothing but love.
...forbidden love.
It was indeed an interesting contrast that a place such as this could exist directly across the street from a small church. It was even more interesting that we were here and not there. We were indeed damned, and we had no one to blame but ourselves.
My stomach growled softly, and I blushed slightly in embarrassment. "Shall we try the vending machine in the hallway?"
He nodded solemnly. "I guess we don't have a choice. Our snack food is all gone."
"Not quite. I believe I still have a small bag of animal crackers in my duffel bag. Besides, I don't think I'd trust anything from the machine, given how the room itself looks and smells."
"Well," my forbidden lover noted, "at least we won't be 100% hungry tonight."
*****
As the sun set, the activity in the hotel increased dramatically. As we cuddled upon the hard bed and tried to forget our relative hunger, the sounds of passion slowly grew in number and in volume. It was strange -- the sounds filtering through the thin walls at once disgusted me yet also aroused me. The solid length of my big brother was nestled against me, clear evidence of how the sounds were affecting him, even though he made no attempt to be sexual with me.
In time, however, my arousal was growing to an extent that I needed some relief. Due to my period, it had been over a week since my last orgasm, and the length of time combined with the unmistakable sounds of sex caused my desire to overflow my body.
"It's been so long..." my big brother finally whispered softly as the natural light faded.
"I know," I whispered in return, kissing his chin.
"We should," he said, "because it might be our last."
He always said that, but it was always true. Each minute we spent together could well have been our last minute together, at least in this reality. We were both keenly aware of the consequences if one or both of us were found.
"At least I can feed you," he said softly, a hand moving to my chest and gently stroking a breast. "At least you won't be so hungry."
He had done that for me several times since our flight had begun. While I have never truly enjoyed the taste of his love, it had provided me with some sustenance and lessened the hunger.
"Take that cock, bitch!" I heard from across the wall, a gruff male voice growling with dominance. Barely a heartbeat later, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone gagging -- likely the "bitch" in question having difficulty taking an erect penis into her throat.
"I am hungry," I admitted, "but what I need more than food is to be loved."
Squeezing my breast, my big brother nodded. Yet our foreplay lasted a long, long time even though both of us needed some sexual relief. Probably an hour passed before he finally made a move to undress me, peeling away my sweat-stained t-shirt and banishing it to the well-trampled carpet. As the sounds of sex continued to pummel our ears, we remained quiet, lovingly removing each article of clothing and removing it from our immediate existence, finally laying ourselves completely bare for each other once again.
Despite the hunger in my stomach, the hunger between my legs was to the point of throbbing. My nipples were hardened buds of flesh upon my breasts, aching with a need of their own. As the glow of a nearby streetlamp provided minor illumination in our hotel room, the way my forbidden lover gazed upon me despite the dirt and the sweat of several days without the ability to shower, despite the lack of make-up, despite the occasional gurgle of my stomach.
"Feed my body," I pleaded quietly, my voice practically lost in the passionate feminine cry filtering down from the room above us.
Slowly, gently, respectfully, my big brother pressed his way inside me. My sex spread to accommodate him, gripping him firmly, rippling to draw him ever deeper into me at an even faster rate. We both groaned as one, our eyes locked even though we had to each fight to prevent our eyelids from closing or our eyes from rolling back in their sockets.
While the couples and threesomes and moresomes throughout the hotel fucked, my big brother and I instead made love. It was excruciatingly slow for me, such was the hunger of my body, but I still reveled in the experience: the fullness, the kisses, the gentle touches, the suckling of my nipples, the whispers of devotion, the flame of love in his eyes...
I moved in perfect counterpoint to his slow, steady rhythm. My body arched often to make as much contact with him as possible. My heavy breaths were occasionally interrupted by a long moan as his fingers plucked at my pulsing clitoris or pinched an exited nipple. Despite the hardness of the bed, the springs within the mattress certainly made a fair amount of noise, and I was almost certain that anyone in the adjacent rooms or passing by in the hallway would know what was happening upon the bed.
Despite the danger, despite the hunger, despite the weariness from nearly four months on the run, I felt so incredibly close to my big brother. We had already been close as siblings. We had become even closer in college when we finally gave in to the undercurrents of love. And now our flight had bound us together in ways I could never have imagined.
His sweat dripped upon me. His breath was hot in my face. His dirty body felt gritty beneath my own dirty hands. His natural scent created a headiness which was nearly intoxicating. His eyes bored into me, reaching into my soul and providing a comfort no one else in this situation would ever truly understand or appreciate.
He stopped, fully embedded within me, breathing hard, pressing forcefully against my clitoris, grinding his body into me, nudging me ever closer to the edge...
"Oh sis!"
That was the catalyst. An explosion of sound erupted from me as the deluge of love surged around the forbidden length inside me. My body shook with the power of my love for my big brother, the trembling intensified my the desire in his eyes even as his face twisted with his attempt to ride the tidal wave of my primal hunger.
Somehow, he was able to fend off his release, groaning aloud as my body bore down upon his brotherly length, my love surging around him. He almost lost the battle -- I could tell by the trembling of his body -- but he survived, twitching inside me after my orgasm had subsided...
I pulled my big brother upon me, his weight nicely pressing my breasts into my ribs. Taking his head in my hands, I guided his lips toward mine, kissing him sweetly, whimpering into his mouth.
"I can still feed your stomach," my forbidden lover offered selflessly. "I want to. Please."
Since we were young children, he had always been like that: always looking out for me, always putting me before himself, always trying to ensure that I was safe and happy.
"What about you?"
