A/N: This story features intimate acts between a biological brother and sister. All characters in this story are a minimum of 18 years of age. Reader discretion is advised.
As always, the saucy stuff is indicated by three asterisks (***).
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Nathaniel walked through the front door of his parent's house, shaking the snow off of his coat. He set his overnight bag down with a thump and called out in greeting.
"Hey guys, I'm here!"
The house was quiet, but he wasn't worried. His parents said they might not make it back from shopping in the city until later that night and the snow was coming down hard: his dad was a careful driver who had always erred on the side of caution, especially with the snow. He'd lost a brother to a car accident years ago and had never really come to terms with it.
Nathaniel's younger sister Brooke was probably out at the local mall or at a friend's house. She was in her final year of highschool and was fairly popular. She'd been going steady with a kid named Cliff for some time and it was all she could talk about when their parents forced the siblings to chat on webcam. It was an awkward experience for them both: Nathaniel was six years older than his sister and they had little in common.
Brooke was polite enough and asked about his schooling - he was studying biochemistry ('gross', in her estimation), his hobbies - hockey, as always (skating was the one thing they could agree on), and dates - he was always vague on this front. While hookup apps had expanded his horizons some, he was mostly too busy to go steady with anyone.
Nathaniel slung his bag over his shoulder and started up the stairs towards his childhood bedroom, looking forward to a more comfortable sleep than university digs. He reached the top of the stairs when his sister darted past him - in one of HIS T-shirts!
"Hey! You little thief!" He yelled at her, mostly affectionately. Brooke jumped a foot into the air, yelping in fright. Apparently she hadn't heard her brother's entry.
"Ohmyfuckinggod," she said in a single breath, clutching her chest like a horror movie heroine. Nathaniel laughed at the spooked look on her face and then realised that she was wearing his T-shirt but little else. His view from on the stairs was uncomfortably intimate for him, her pussy (she shaved?) on display up what amounted to be a too-short dress on her.
"Nath, you bastard! You scared the shit out of me!" She shoved her brother's shoulder, pulling the T-shirt down to cover her better. Nathaniel took the hit and moved to stand on the landing next to her, shaking his head.
"That's my top!"
"I borrowed it! If you liked it so much why didn't you bring it to college with you?" Brooke retorted, her green eyes trained stubbornly on her tall brother.
"Because I didn't want to lose it or have it stolen! I didn't expect someone in my own family to be a little thief!"
"Yeah, well, I didn't expect to find pot in your room either, but here we are." Brooke said brattily, flouncing off to answer the siren call of a cell phone notification. Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his bedroom door, eager to put some distance between his bratty sister and him.
His room was mostly how he remembered it, there were a few boxes of his mom's craft supplies on his dresser. They'd likely been moved out of her sewing room to make room for the camp cot that occasionally got rolled out for special occasions. It was his parent's silver wedding anniversary on the 17th and they were having a big party for it. Nathaniel had come down on the Friday before, figuring he had the weekend to catch up with his buddies.
Unfortunately, Nathaniel hadn't remembered it was Valentine's Day weekend and most of his friends were busy with their girlfriends. He wasn't too put out: he wasn't dating anyone and his mom was a good cook. A few extra days in town wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing for him, especially if he had more stolen items to recover from Brooke.
If Brooke had found his pot, that meant she'd found his Box. Most teenage boys had some variant of a Box, a stash of illicit or forbidden items hidden none too well in their room. If Brooke had found his box, that meant that she'd found his porn stash. He had a couple of well-used magazines tucked in there as an emergency for if and when his parents took his phone away when he was younger. He opened his closet and pulled out the shoebox that hid his stash and pulled out the magazines.
Now, it should be said that Brooke was an artistic girl. Unfortunately she'd used her artistic talent to deface the busty blonde on the cover and every page inside, he sighed disappointedly as Miss April - his personal favourite - stared out at him from the page with buck teeth and a curly villain-like moustache. That little bitch!
Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he texted Brooke angrily.
< what else did u touch in my room? srsly not cool [thumbs down]
He put the box away, complete with its defaced magazines. The memories were better anyhow, Miss April seemed prettier and less vapid in the rosy glow of the past.
His phone vibrated, a notification from Brooke that simply read [picture]. Assuming it was the newest way to tell someone to fuck off via meme, he opened it to a pic of... tits?
The tits themselves were pleasant, on the smaller side but very pert, with pink areolas and small nipples that stood out proudly. Weirdly, the face was covered by - oh for fuck sakes, HIS shirt. The blood drained from his face as he texted his sibling back, three very important words:
< what. the. fuck.
A moment went by and then he heard a shriek from his sister's room. His phone buzzed a second later with a reply message.
> omg delete that!! It was a joke for a friend!
< do mom and dad know u r txting naked pics?
> don't be a dick, Nath. Delete it.
< give me my shirt back, then we'll talk
> fine whatever
A few minutes later, Brooke burst through the door (without knocking, predictably) and threw the shirt at her brother, righteous fury in her eyes. Her face was entirely red and she couldn't meet Nathaniel's eyes.
"Just delete it, okay?" She said, standing in the doorway with her eyes on her feet. Her toenails were painted bubblegum pink and Nathaniel could still see the scar on her foot she'd gotten from falling off her bike when she was learning how to ride it.
