Hypergeniture B. 01

BOOK ONE • PART ZERO

Author's Note:

This story took me a long time to write. It's not pure incest and it won't always be easy for the characters involved. What it offers is an adventure that starts with two people — two cousins — and takes us around the world as our protagonist meets glamorous and dangerous women, gets to know his own heart, repairs the fractures in his family, and fights against a myriad of unseen threats.

I would like to thank the wonderful Sextified for taking the time to read early drafts and make valuable insights. He is an immensely qualified author and his feedback on particularly these early parts was critical to helping me complete the story.

All sexual activity is between characters that are 18 or older. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, places or events is purely coincidental. The below is not intended to serve as a guide for real life sexual encounters or relationships. Stay safe, happy and healthy! :-)

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01 • Christmas in January

It was about midnight as I tasted the bitter-cold air of winter. The New Year's rush had come and gone. I had room to pace, practising an old habit while on the phone with my sisters.

The girls are twins, a few months past eighteen but ten-times older in their souls. While they slowly settled into their own lives, we were still as close as ever. You see, fate had forged our bond and nothing would ever come between us. Still, right there and right then, it felt like I was a million miles away.

They were home in Toronto. I was across the ocean in a city I knew almost as well.

"How's London?" Elle inquired. She was the steady one of the two; often the leader and always the voice of reason... Well, not always, but most of the time.

With our other sister, Tecla, chiming in from the background, I fielded dozens of questions. Thinking about the day I'd had, every answer started with a sigh as I complained about being so far away.

"Aww, do you miss us

that

much?"

I smiled and made a guarantee, "Of course I miss you

that

much! If someone offered me a choice between a billion dollars and being back home, I'd take the latter."

The girls giggled happily and for a few seconds our call descended into a sibling love-fest. We were a sentimental bunch; no doubt about it. Since our dad died, we have been all about love and togetherness. It irritated some people around us, but they can shove it. I made no excuses for being attached to the girls.

"By the way, how's our mother?" I asked, knowing the answer would upset me.

"Our mother? You make it sound like she's... Never mind," Elle trailed off.

Tecla picked up where our sister left off. "She's in her room — having one of her bad weeks — but it's okay. I mean, she's been eating and stuff."

All I could muster in reply was a resigned silence. Poor mom and poor girls. Left alone with a parent who didn't know how to interact with the world.

It wasn't Mom's fault, of course. It's all still about the death of her husband and our father, even 14 years down the line. Truth be told, it had gotten to the stage where it was hard to forgive our remaining parent for her absences. But, that's a story for another day...

The girls were busy getting ready for bed, and I was beginning to rattle in the cold night air. We said love you and goodbye and I made my way back inside.

Shivering or not, I like how the cold air gets straight to my heart. It cuts through the skin, making my soul shiver and forcing life into my bones. But, then, in that transition from the frost to the warm belly of a beautiful building, you're reborn.

Melodramatic? Sure. That's me.

The bouncer gave me a nod as I stepped back into the jazz club where I'd been spending the evening. Feeling the shift from cold to warm, I got closer and closer to the music. Even muffled by the walls between me and the band, it sounded incredible.

The joint — and I say joint 'cause I wanna sound hip and cool — was called Laverna: The goddess of thieves. It was the kind of place I loved more than any other kind of place. Its soft lights and the band created an astonishing atmosphere. The kid on the drums was a juvenile genius — his generation's Mozart — in a dimly lit bar where he can't even order a drink. Not a strong one, at least. Nah, he was fuelled by Diet Coke and a passion for the beat, the rhythm, the jam... He directed the rest of the band with cool and calm.

In every jazz club, on every city night, a man needs a beautiful woman in beautiful clothes and with an air of danger about her. To me, that beautiful woman was Natasha, my cousin, and someone who I love like a sister. As a lawyer in Toronto, I didn't see much of her, a young nurse living an ocean away. After my father passed, I got posted to his family in the UK. We only lived together for a year or two, but we'd been best friends since. It hurt when I moved on to Switzerland, and I still remember the day I left her and her mom.

I was 12 and she was nine.

We cried.

Reunited, I walked to her and watched as she swirled her drink and swayed to the music. A strand of her caramel brown hair fell over her face as her body moved. Tucking the stray strands away, she saw me. As her eyes turned, I read her dark pupils and saw the love I'd been so sad to leave behind all those years ago.

"How are your girlfriends?" Tash asked fiendishly.

I shook my head. "Is it really such a sin to be close to your siblings?"

"Oh, darling cousin, I just want to figure out your type."

Without thinking, I shot back, "You're my type."

Tash blushed. It was like her cheeks had been dabbed by a subtle redness and her eyes turned a shade brighter. "Why do you say things that you know will make me feel funny?"

"Funny? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I—"

"No. Not that. You know... I guess I deserve it for teasing you about your sisters," my cousin conceded.

My relationship with my sisters was a bright red target that attracted much attention from anyone who wanted to tease. It was our closeness that came across as intimate, if not romantic. It wasn't, of course...

People don't feel that way about their siblings unless they're crazy, right?

I pushed myself to graduate high school early to get out of Europe and back to my sisters. While I was globetrotting, they were at bottom of the rung schools. It wasn't fair — wasn't right — and I never understood why they couldn't also attend top boarding schools. Sure, we didn't have money, yet somehow I was allowed the best education in the world. Part of me wondered if my sisters resented me for it. They were smarter, after all, but never got the same access.

I sighed wistfully. No... I sighed longingly. Still, it wasn't all heartbreak and sadness on that cold London night. Looking at Tash, I remembered the joy that my 'third sister' brought to my life.

My cousin continued to dig into me. It was our way of communicating, and I wouldn't change it for the world. The successive jabs targeted the older women I'd dated back home. She had every right to make fun of that, even though she made it sound like they were ancient.

"Mommy issues," she diagnosed.

"The oldest was 30—"

"Hold on," Tash interrupted. Her attention shifted from our conversation and fixed on something behind me. Turning my head, I snuck a peek and immediately understood why she was staring.

The club's lights cast shadows so black that they seemed to swallow space. My eyes followed the contours of the darkness until I saw the half-lit face of a stunning brunette. She held a heavy silver pen with which she wrote what I imagined was poetry.

She looked like the type — the poet-type — the type that took my breath away. Even in the claustrophobic conditions of our little music box, smoke box, dark box... Even in the middle of the beat, rhythm and dance, her attitude struck a chord louder than most.

The woman wore a gold sequin blazer with nothing underneath. No, nothing to shield her modesty or protect her from January frost. It was a party look — she was alone. It was a summer outfit — in the coldest part of the year.

Contradictions are alluring and contrast is enticing. So, I was spellbound at the sight of this creature of contradiction.

"You should go talk to her," Natasha encouraged.

At first, I protested, "I don't want to be

that

guy."

"C'mon," my cousin pressed. "You've had a rough day at work. You have a hotel room. You can't have me because I'm your cousin..."

"Jeez! That's quite something to say," I grimaced.

Tash shrugged. "I don't mean you want to sleep with me. I'm just saying that we won't be sleeping together."

"Well, if you put it that way..."

I took one more look at the woman behind me, downed my drink, and got to my feet...

I'm no fool, but it's usually fools who stumble into a lion's den. The instant I turned around, I knew that

she

was dangerous.

She

was no joke.

From where I'd been sitting, I hadn't seen the signs. Now, each step made the red flags more apparent. It was all about the way she held her pen; every stroke of ink was a moment of drama with flourish. Her eyes caught mine and the way her lips curled told me I was dinner, and she was hungry...

One foot in front of the other, I kept walking.

Arriving by her side, the woman addressed me before I could utter a word. "Interesting... I've never been approached by a couple before."

Off-balance, my fight or flight instinct saw me hitting back with equal directness. "Well, I hope it isn't a disappointment, but I'm the only one approaching you."

"Ah, I see," the woman rolled her eyes. "Here I thought that this night was about to get fun."

"It could still get fun."

The woman smiled, letting her guard down and allowing me to take a seat at her table. Her brunette hair had flashes of light that weren't the product of dye. Instead, it looked like her whole being had been infused with electricity. It's what gave her body its sharp and slender shape, animating her sandy eyes with a purple spark.

I saw an opportunity to seize charge of the conversation. "I'm Oliver, by the way."

"Hi Oliver, my name is Sian, or Shaan, as you might say with that delightful American accent of yours."

"It's actually Canadian, which I'm surprised you'd mistake for American."

"Oh? Well, since you're so clever, where am I from?"

"Wales, obviously," I replied. The lioness had made the first mistake of her hunt — she assumed I was a hapless tourist.

It seemed I had the momentum, and Sian undoubtedly liked that. Though, I could see she was about to counter-attack. She telegraphed her next moves in the way she glanced at my cousin — with sapphic lust and intrigue. "Who's the girl? The one that got away? The female best friend you never got to fuck?"

"Something like that," I replied, recoiling at my inadvertent confession.

Sian smiled. "Well, since she's off-limits, tell me about yourself."

"I'm in London on business, as an attorney working for the estate of Elizabeth Wharry. Perhaps you've heard of her? Rich, famous, dead... She fell down a set of stairs. Can you believe it? I can't."

Briefly, Sian and I shared a moment of silence where we simply looked each other over. The mention of my occupation and my wild little speech made her smile. She leaned back and folded her arms, oozing intent. "Well, Oliver, you are a very handsome man and, as you intended, your fancy job is impressive. Still, I feel we could be so much more than two pretty people who go fuck in a hotel room."

The Welsh seductress was right, but I knew what she had in mind and didn't like it. It was a line I couldn't cross or even dare to approach.

But, Sian persisted, "We can be three pretty people who go fuck in a hotel room... I saw the two of you sitting together. I could see you both want it. Or, don't you want to have your sexy friend tonight? Scared you can't handle two beautiful women at once?"

Again, the hunter stumbled, and I took a shot back. "It's true that you're exceptionally good-looking, but calling yourself beautiful? Arrogance is undesirable, Sian."

The brunette smiled slyly at my resistance. This was all part of the thrill for her — two people going back and forth. "My arrogance is justified... Just watch this."

By the time I realised that I'd lost control of the situation, it was too late. Without another word, Sian made sure to catch Natasha's attention and called her to our table. My cousin was immediately on her feet, drink in hand, and on her way to join us.

The lioness was moving in for the kill.

I felt a nerve pinch in my neck and I wasn't quite sure if that was fear or excitement. For her part, Tash was all too happy to be invited — an extrovert, people person kind of girl... The smile on her face was bright and a reflection of her love for life's social side.

Sian didn't waste much time. After swapping names, the viper got straight to the point. "So, Nat... Tash, your friend and I want to plan a fun evening."

"Oh, I'm all for a bit of fun!" Tash giggled, naive to the other woman's intentions. "Do you guys want to hit a few other clubs? This place is cool, but it's 100% Olly's vibe. I'd love to go somewhere we can dance."

The innocence in my cousin made me snap back to reality: Snap — a literal snap — like a lash across the face or a punch in the stomach. I didn't expect this Sian chick to be so intense. Nah, she looked sweet from a distance and beautiful up close. Take a good look at her, though, and you'll see she dripped with dangerous determination.

I wanted to get my cousin and me out of there before things

really

got awkward. "Look, Sian, it's been nice meeting you, and we should meet again... The thing is, we've had a long day, and I have to go drop my friend at her flat before heading back to my hotel."

Sian's grin only grew wilder. "Sounds like a waste of a cab fare and a hotel room. You two should just go back to your hotel. I'll join."

"Oh, no... We're only friends," Tash responded. She also avoided telling Sian about our familial relation. Maybe we were under the same spell, or maybe we wanted to indulge in the elicit for a few more minutes. Whatever it was, it left us vulnerable to an escalating situation.

The Welsh beauty persisted, "With me there, Tash, you can do as much or as little as you like. That's the great thing about three people, one bed and one night."

My head swivelled in alarm and I reluctantly sought my cousin's eyes. We shared a shellshocked expression, way out of our depth in the presence of this stranger. Finally, Tash spoke in a whisper that was hardly a whisper, "Are you playing along with this?"

I shook my head and spoke up, "Look, we're family. I should've mentioned it... I got carried away."

Sian oozed sly self-satisfaction. "Well, if that's the only thing stopping you..."

For almost a minute, the three of us talked to each other without uttering a single word. It was as close to telepathy as you're ever going to get, as our subconscious minds conversed in silence. Seeming to settle on a decision, Tash swallowed hard and I watched as she closed her eyes to take a breath. Then, she smiled.

"I'll go get my bag."

• • •

My hotel was only a few minutes away and we walked there in one tight group of three. I held Tash's hand throughout; her other arm wrapped around mine. It was the way people walk when looking for comfort — fearing the dangers of a dark city and an unpredictable third party.

Tash wore a dress for clubbing with dark pantyhose underneath. Still, she should have felt colder... All of us should have.

Our companion stuck close to us but moved with care so as not to break the spell she'd cast. Maybe that was true of us all... That we were scared one word might call off this thing we truly wanted. So, we chose silence in a noisy town, accompanied by nothing but the click-clack of heels on the pavement and the occasional sound of a passing engine.

It felt like we were being watched; like we were being judged. That kind of paranoia always accompanied sin, transgression, deviance... Cars seemed to move slower than they should, and we had shadows in the shape of other pedestrians.

As we entered the warm glow of the hotel lobby, it was like reality struck and I saw with fresh eyes. There had never been an ounce of genuine sexual tension between my cousin and me. No, there'd never been anything but play-acting. Yet, that night we looked at each other with intentions, agendas, doubt... It wasn't a bad feeling, but — having never felt it before — we were a little scared.

As the elevator doors closed, Sian's hands began toying with my shirt and I felt the heat of her body against mine. She looked at me with lust in her eyes — biting down on her lip — flashing a wicked smile. I reached out to put my hand on the small of her back and felt her move an inch closer to me. We both turned to Tash, watching as she sucked oxygen into her lungs, trying to keep steady.

As the elevator doors opened on our floor, the Welsh girl's attention shifted from me.

It was like she had a plan.

Sian took my cousin's hand and with a peck on the cheek, she elicited a precious giggle. Then, we took the last few steps to my hotel room. The narrow hallway was deserted. The thick carpet cushioned our steps and cast a blanket of stealth.

Reaching the threshold, I produced the keycard and the

beep

and

clink

of the mechanism told me we were now beyond the point of no return. Sian had turned her attention back to me as her arms wrapped around me from behind. With her slender body clinging to mine, we stepped through the door.

Tash followed without a hint of reluctance, setting her handbag aside and straightening her cocktail dress — waiting for direction.

The room was dark and both women were beautiful in the glow of the solitary bedside lamp. Stealing a glance at the bed, I noticed that housekeeping had turned the corner of the duvet, and it was like one more obstacle had been removed. Inadvertently, they'd made it easier to embrace the unimaginable.

With a million thoughts tickling my mind, I slipped away from Sian's grasp and took a step to Tash. She met me halfway — her lips were quivering and I'm sure mine were too. Still, we managed to smile at the absurdity of it all.

I knew I wanted to kiss her.

I was going to kiss her.

What I didn't know was how it would feel. But, then, it happened: the complicated sensation of my cousin's lips, carrying the weight of family and a lifetime of innocent friendship.

How did it feel? How did it feel?

Like an injection of life and lust, a tornado on the tip of my tongue, and a cyclone in my heart.

Natasha's hands rested on my chest as her fingertips pressed into my body. She was making space between us — trying to keep a distance — while at the same time, her lips made no effort to break our embrace. Her tongue was the first to press forward and demand more. Mine joined with not even an ounce of hesitation.

Neither of us retreated. Neither of us wanted the moment to end or the sweet-sweet sweetness to subside. It was only the feeling of a third body joining us that could suspend our tangle. Yes, we parted only to enter a new kiss as a fresh pair of lips issued an invitation.

Sian was hungry for us. Her hands trailed our bodies — gripped our clothes — as her tongue lashed ours, and we kissed her back. The vigour was entrancing, enchanting, and intoxicating. As she sucked my tongue and hooked two fingers into my belt, I got drunk on the sexuality that dripped from her lips. The feeling was a rush. Then I swapped back to my cousin; I felt the punch of the touch of her tender mouth. Her arms no longer tried to distance her body. Instead, they held me and pulled me closer.