Tengen's Little Princess

Chapter 2

     You were too pretty for your own good.
     Of course, you didn't know it. You flaunted what you had without knowing what you were doing. Ignorant girls were always cuter, that's what he'd always told himself. He'd always liked shy, inexperienced girls over self-proclaimed whores. But you? Why you?
     It was wrong... it was very wrong. He practically raised you, and now he was looking at you like that? No. He had to stop himself. But he couldn't, not with how you'd grown into your body, not with how you'd laugh and smile and lean all over him. That's why he did what he did after he put you to sleep.
     He looked at the article of clothing in his hand, wondering why in the hell he'd stolen it. You'd wonder where your missing panties went. He was the only other person in the house, you'd suspect him. Yet he did it anyway, unable to resist your charm as you sleepily told him you loved him. God, if he was the same man he used to be, he'd have taken you already. But he was better than his high school self. He had to keep reminding himself that he was better.
     But not tonight. He put a movie on the tv in his room just in case you woke up. He made himself comfortable against his headboard. And the image of you flooded into his head like clockwork.
     He wondered what you'd look like under him, eyes shut in shy pleasure, pretty pouty lip swollen from kissing. He palmed himself through his sweats imagining his lips on yours, his hands slowly taking off that tight little school uniform. Possessiveness reared its ugly head when he thought about the boys at your school looking at you. You were his... you belonged to him.
     He shimmied his sweats down his legs and let his cock breathe, the painfully hard member brushing against his stomach. God, he had to stop doing this. He had to stop touching himself to the thought of you. Maybe he'd stop tomorrow.
     Tonight, though, his sins grew exponentially worse. He wrapped his hand around himself and groaned, deciding to use your stolen panties to help aid his nightly routine. And god, did they look so pretty wrapped around his cock. The white lace, symbolic of your cute little purity, being sullied by his actions. He imagined what these same panties would look like dirty, wet with your arousal as he tore them off your body, lying on his floor as he fucked you into the mattress.
     He'd never cum that fast in his life. And in the afterglow of his orgasm, he didn't even regret what he'd done. He shoved the panties into his bedside drawer and cleaned up.

You wondered why your brother stopped looking at you. It had been about two weeks since you'd fallen asleep on the couch that night, and gradually, he'd been short and curt and barely looked you in the eye anymore. You tried to ask him what was wrong, but was met with a gruff "nothing" and his swift departure from the room.
Your naivety wasn't helping. Every night, when Tengen locked the door to his room and wrapped his fist around his cock, he imagined you. And it got to the point where he couldn't look at you during the day without his pants tightening. So unflashy.
So he took to avoiding you so he didn't have to explain himself. And if it hurt you in the process? Well, at least he wouldn't have to tell you the sins he'd committed.
"Why are you avoiding me?" you demanded. You'd cornered him when he got home from work, not letting him escape like he normally did. "Are you mad at me? I didn't do anything!"
"I'm not mad," he answered, pointedly staring at your eyes.
"Then why don't we hang out like we used to? Why are you so distant?"
"Work's been busy—"
"Bullshit."
"Hey! Watch your mouth."
"Why? I'm 17, I know what cuss words are."
     "It's unflashy."
     You rolled your eyes. "You avoiding me is unflashy."
     He didn't have an answer for that. "I'm a 25 year old man," he spat. "I don't have to answer to a girl."
     "I'm not a girl, I'm your sister. And I deserve to know why you're ignoring me!"
     "Enough!" He yelled, making you flinch. He never yelled, not even when you were young. "You don't understand and you won't! So stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!"
     He immediately knew he'd gone too far. You stepped back and looked at your feet, feeling your throat close up. He'd raised you since you were 6 years old, and never once had he raised his voice like that. Ever. "Sorry," you whispered, trying and failing to hide your teary eyes. "I'll leave you alone then."
     He didn't reach you fast enough, and you bolted up the stairs to your room, slamming the door. All you'd wanted was an explanation... all you'd wanted was to help. And you were met with anger. Pure, unbridled anger. Instead of talking it out, you remained in your room all night, ignoring his attempts to get you downstairs for dinner. And as you fell asleep, your sadness twisted to annoyance. "Fine," you muttered to yourself. "You wanna be like that? Fine. Two can play at this game."