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wanderingpages · 9 months

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‧͙⁺˚･༓☾Gentle Sins AU☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off too?” I meant it to sound teasing – I wanted to show him I could play his game too – but I was breathless, I was buzzing with anticipation.

“You know it wouldn’t end there, Jude,” he gave me a wry look. “It's a shame,” he rose and ruffled my hair, “It's a shame you’re my sister,” he murmured, needlessly reminding me. “Because that was some damn fine pussy, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Jude and Cardan do things step-siblings shouldn't do.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Allusions to Drugs/Alcohol, Debauching Catholicism/Religious Metaphors, Taboo Sex.

Shoutout @headcannonxgalore for holding down the set ❤️

Jude's POV

Cardan is never home – at least not when I am, which is usually always. As far as I knew, he stayed with his dad, went on long vacations, and otherwise only met up with his mom once in a while. So, it irks me a little when I see him waiting for me after my last final, asking, “Are you ready to head home?” Home – as in my home.

He waits for me to pack and say goodbye to my friends, then leads me to his car, and holds the door open for me. “You’re staying with us?” I ask a few minutes into the drive, finding whatever was on the radio to be a little annoying and dull. I open the glove compartment, nosily, sifting through the pack of wipes and snackbars, and pull out a thin worn out book. It’s mostly a discolored yellow, with red writing, in french, La Chute – The Fall by Albert Camus. I flip through the pages, surprised to see dog ears and sticky notes throughout.

“My father isn’t in the country, and why be alone, when I can be with my favorite sister?” His eyes are on the road but his wry smile is directed at me when I glance up at him. He reaches over and takes the book from me, tossing it to the back of the car. “You don't need existentialism now, Jude.”

I grimace; it’s not as if I could read French anyways, though it is surprising that Cardan has that copy in its original language. “Is it your favorite?” I ask. I wiggle my brows, “Do you think you, too, have fallen from grace?”

His smile is Cheshire in response, “Since the day I met you, little sister.” I cross my eyes upwards.

I scrunch my nose,“You can be so….” I trail off, wanting to say infuriating or annoying, but I didn't really need to, he already guesses it.

He responds, “Likewise.” He must sense the incredulous look I give him because he checks me, “You could have said no. To the drive home,” he says, for instance. “Me, in your dorm,” he begins to list, making me feel incredibly self aware. “Walking you home from the party – being in the same room as me at that party, actually. Ghost would have found someplace else if you asked. Even prior to that,” Cardan tells me, “You could have told me no at the reception. But you didn't. We have these cute little trysts for a few hours and then you pretend it’s never happened. I guess you’re kind of like your dad, in that way.” He says the last bit quietly, but I frown all the same. Before I can ask him what he means, he admits, “It’s okay, I’m like my dad too, for even putting up with it. I guess I like being strung along.”

“Cardan…”

“I like stringing you along, too. It's fun to see who’d last the longest. It’s fun to see how far this would go. Do I get to drag you to hell with me, little sister?” I should be bothered by Cardan’s words, but he’s not wrong. His introspection makes the car feel stuffy, so I roll down the window and let the air rush in. He grins and turns the dial on the stereo louder, singing along softly to the lyrics as if they are proving his point. “And you'll find yourself praying up to Heaven above, but honestly I never had much sympathy 'cause those bad things, I always saw them coming for me…I'm gonna run, run away, run, run away, run away…” Bad Things by Cults – it is a jarring song; calm and disruptive, a lot like how it feels being in this small space with him. My pointer finger grazes the knuckle of my thumb absently. I rest my head back, listening to his voice.

“You’re kind of a dick,” I finally tell him. Of course he knows this, but saying it out loud made me feel less lousy about how he’s painted me.

“I must have gotten it from Mom.” I frown at that, finding it to seem untrue. The more time I spend with Cardan, the more my view on my stepmother starts to shift

I hesitate to ask about his dad, to go back to the reason he’s driving me home – Asha’s first husband. Did Asha string him along? Is that what Cardan was getting at? Is she doing the same to my father and I? Is my father aware? “Why didn’t you…” I trail off when I realize it really isn’t any of my business, but still, he prompts me to continue. “I mean, I guess, why didn’t you spend more time with Asha? Did she not have shared custody of you or something?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and I turn in my seat to look at him, waiting to see if he’d tell me to fuck off or not. What he says instead, throws me off, “Asha was deemed unfit to parent.” I blink hard at this, in disbelief. If he notices, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he shifts the conversation to me; asks about my mom.

“She… I don’t know,” I admit, probably for the first time in my life. “She left me – us, Dad and I, when I was five. I don’t know where she is. I think she’s started a new family somewhere else.” I face forward and rest my elbow on the door handle, absently nipping at my thumb. As an afterthought, I say, “Maybe she’s dead.” he hums out a response, but he has no clue of the spiral he’s sent me on. Or maybe he does, and that's why when we stop for gas at the next rest stop, he tosses me a first aid kit. He waits until I put the antiseptic cream on and wrap thin gauze around my knuckles. My cheeks heat; he had noticed when my fingers started to bleed. In truth, Cardan doesn't really even need gas, so I say thank you and give him a bright smile when I’m done.

He tilts his head and reaches for my hair, brushing it back behind my ears. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it at the last moment and instead asks if I’m hungry. “There’s a diner a few miles ahead.” biding more time with him, I nod my head and let him pay for a meal.

The diner is cozy, but I’m not in the mood for a big meal, so I settle for a slice of cherry pie. We are at the darkest corner of the diner, and while it feels pretty private, I’m still keenly aware of the scatter of guests coming and going. Because of where we are seated, it takes some time for the waitress to notice, then even more time for our food and drinks to arrive. We are mostly forgotten here in this pocket of the diner. I don’t think I mind much, though.

I steer the conversation to less heavy and more neutral topics. I ask about the frat house and why he’s not actually a part of it. When he tells me his dad donates a hefty sum of money to the college, that surprises me. I guess, there really is a lot about him I had no idea of. “I'm an honorary member,” he shrugs, “It’s kind of hard not to be when Daddy funds their lifestyle.” I crack a smile because Cardan can be dorky sometimes. I ask about his relationships with the other members, I suppose wanting to know more about his stance on Ghost, really. If he would have been okay with anybody creeping into his room with me that night. “Ghost is my best friend. It would have been a fight had it been Locke or anyone else,” he divulges, and though I shouldn't be startled by his honesty, it still makes me feel a little too warm. Then he admits, maybe selfishly considering his track record for the past few weeks, “If he had gone further, I would have buried him.”

My eyes get wide and when I say, “That's not fair,” it comes out in a whisper.

“I know.”

Cardan had ordered a burger, so when it finally arrives, he pushes the platter more to the center of the table and tells me to eat some of his fries; he halfheartedly jokes that I'd probably get sick if I only eat sugar for lunch. I take a few to appease him, nibbling them almost thoughtfully. “That's a visceral reaction,” I come to terms with. “Your best friend?” I blush when I remind him quietly, “you’re the one who told me to open my mouth.”

“I rather his load in your mouth than on your body or in your cunt,” he says graphically. I cough in shock but he’s not bothered. “Plus, I think you look cute with a dick in your mouth.”

I scowl at him after reaching for a sip of soda. “What makes you think you have any right over my body?”

“I know I don't.” He picks at a fry, “I told you, baby, you could have said no.” I’m taken aback but I should know by now, my step brother is anything but a liar. I ponder his admittance of jealousy, but also his acceptance that he really had no say - only what I let him have say over, and I realize, I let him have say over a lot. “You could have ignored me and hopped on his dick. Maybe it would have been a blow to my ego, but then I probably wouldn't be in this diner right now with you.” He always says so much while saying so little, doesn't he? “Anyways, if you decide to tell me to fuck off and pursue Ghost instead, you should walk around with condoms, because I know he doesn’t.” It’s so offhanded that I don't even really process it as anything more than banter.

“I’m on birth control,” I tell him indignantly, willfully ignoring all else that was said. “I don't want to be with Ghost, anyways.” I let him take that as he may and I dig into my pie as if to end the conversation there. I want to let him know I don’t want to be with him either, but that would be lying and despite myself, I just couldn’t tell Cardan to fuck off. After a while, I notice him staring. “Do you want some of my pie,” I offer.

“Is that a euphemism?”

I shift my head to the side as if I’m actually thinking about it. My feet finds his under the table, and with my legs crossed, I have enough leverage to use my ankle to softly graze up his leg. “Do you want it to be?”

He catches hold of my ankle, uncrossing my legs to place my foot on his thigh. I lean back in the booth a little awkwardly, and lick at my cherry coated spoon. “What's the pipeline between mommy issues and wanting to bend your sister over the bathroom sink?” Cardan muses.

“Stepsister,” I tell him. I wiggle my foot in his grip. I have on snow boots and leggings, not at all looking as sexy as I feel right now.

He shrugs and with his free hand, reaches across the table and dips two fingers into the center of the slice. “It makes no difference to me, Jude. Sister or not, I’d want you the same way I wanted you then, the same way I want you now.” I watch as he pulls them out slowly, completely coating his fingers with the sticky sweet maroon. I follow his fingers to where he hovers them in front of his mouth then sticks his tongue out and flattens it against his digits, tasting the honeyed tart. I shiver and twist in my seat, eyes slowly drifting up to find his dark ones already piercing into my soul.

“And…” my words come out breathy against my will. “How do you want me, now?” I play with fire to condition myself. Hell is hot, I’ve heard, and maybe Cardan does get to drag me there with him.

“I want you to copy me,” he says, huskily, startling me, my eyes growing wide. “I want you to stick your fingers in your panties and do what I do.”

My breathing gets erratic in mere seconds. I look around the near empty diner, like if I’m actually contemplating it. “You’re crazy,” I whisper. His eyes are teasing, daring me to say no to him, proving his point all over again when I don’t.

Cardan grins, “Take your jacket off, put it on over your lap. Don’t worry, baby sister, it’ll be our little secret.” His teeth scrape the tip of his fingers. I’m crazy, too, I think, as I do exactly what he asks. “I bet it’s already wet,” he leans over the table, talking quietly. I slip my hand beneath the elastic material of my leggings then under the cotton of my panties, glancing to see if anyone had caught on. Cardan catches my chin, fingerprinting it red and turning me to face him. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I whisper, embarrassed, but not enough to stop. “Soaking.”

“Good girl. Now watch,” he instructs, leaning back. He guides my leg to the side of him, spreading my thighs wider. He takes his cherried fingers and separates them into a V Shape. The tip of his tongue traces the inner part, slowly. I swallow thickly, shaking as I let my fingers follow along, circling the outside of my pussy, mirroring his movements.

My leg beside him starts to tremble, but with his free hand, he holds me still, caressing me soothingly. He tongues the crook of his fingers and I hesitate before I begin rubbing my clit with matching vigor. My eyes flutter, and I try to hold in an embarrassing noise as my head falls back against the cushioned seat. My eyes are still trying to focus on him, matching the pressure, matching the rhythm, though struggling to even stay at half mast. I bite my lower lip when he presses his fingers together and strokes between them wetly. He licks his own lips then asks, “How do you feel?”

“Good,” I mumble. Scared – “Nervous,” I admit, looking at him with blown out eyes and heat erupting all over my body. My fingers shake, but the shallow caresses make me shamefully wet. “Cardan,” I silently plead, my chest moving up and down sporadically, my stomach tightening, muscles contorting. “Come here,” I beg.

Without a word, Cardan complies, getting up from his seat to sit right next to me. I pivot slightly, leaning sideways into the booth. He strokes my hair back soothingly, and traces my lips with his still stained fingers. My lips part, just a taste of the cherries slipping through. I moan quietly and he says, “Don’t stop, okay, Jude?” I nod my head as much as I can with the way he holds me. He paints my lips methodically, over and over, and I find my fingers mirroring him between my legs. He watches, fixated on the way my mouth parts and moves, gasping and widening for his fingers to slip through. “I think…I want to do to you what Spring does to cherry trees,” he murmurs. “Open you up…watch you bloom.”

My eyes screw shut tightly. His fingers probe my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. My fingers slide in too, entering with a slow pressure. He strokes inside my mouth and when he tells me to suck it clean, my stomach knots in response. I do; I suck until there is no trace of cherry left, no red stains or residue, and I finger myself in tandem. He pulls out of my mouth, a trail of spit losing connection when he finds his way under the jacket, following my hand, and adding his finger to my two. I whimper at his intrusion, and think, disoriented, three. Three fingers.

He licks up my chin before he kisses me, letting me taste the forgotten smudge he’d left on me, while he slowly works both our digits inside of me the way he wants. I hold on to his sweater with my free hand, fingers gripping tightly as my toes begin to curl. My painfully quiet whines are being swallowed by him greedily.

I yank him closer to me when the waitress comes by. I forget to breathe when she makes a squeak and with horror, my eyes flit to her blushing cheeks. She smiles bashfully, “Oh don’t mind me,” she says, not at all realizing what is happening under the table, “Here’s the bill, you love birds,” she giggled. God, we must look like teenagers making out back here.

Cardan pulls away only slightly, fingers replacing my frozen ones gently pushing them away, and sliding his two fingers deeper into me. My head falls forward, hiding my face in his sweater when he curves them just right. “Sorry,” He tells the waitress, holding my gaze. “I just missed her so much,” he lies. “Missed her in my arms,” he murmurs.

“Oh hush, don't be sorry,” the waitress says almost fondly and I feel only partially sick over it. She sounds further away, “I was young once too.”

“Missed her pretty face when I made her come,” Cardan continues, speaking to me alone, lips touching mine every so often. He pumps me faster and I take a chunk of his sweater into my mouth, biting down on it so hard my jaw hurts. “Missed the way she felt when her pussy gripped my fingers.” I feel like I’m on the brink of death, gasping for breath, eyes starting to gloss. He holds my head back, making sure I’m in view of him. My ears feel like I’m underwater; everything is static except for Cardan and his words. For a moment, I forget where I am. He swallows my screams when I can't hold back, rubbing his fingers roughly, forcing my body to twitch against his. I bite down on his lips so hard but he takes it in stride, until I’m slumped against him, feeling absolutely weightless. He pulls away from me to kiss my forehead too softly for the utter seismic orgasm he’d just given me. When I lean back, Cardan looks as flushed as I feel. For once, his cheeks are the ones that are red and his forehead is glistening with sweat. His eyes are dazed, his lips swollen and red.

“I… Are you okay?” I asked almost in a slur. I trace his cheek up to his ear, flicking the cross earring dangling from the first piercing. His dark eyes pierce mine when he brings his still wet fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

He smiles languidly, reaching in his pocket for a few bills I know is far over the actual amount necessary. He gets up first and leads me out of the booth. I use my jacket to cover myself up, and in a muddle, we walk out of the diner, hand in hand.

He kisses me sweetly when we get to his car, and I kiss him back, because we can, for right now. He opens his trunk and I dig out the first pair of necessary clothing I find in my overnight bag and then he opens the door to the backseat for me, standing lookout as I awkwardly try to change.

“Cardan?” I ask when we’re on the road again. “Are you okay?” he’d been silent since I asked the first time back at the diner, I realize belatedly.

His smile is lazy and maybe even disoriented. “I don’t even like cherries,” he finally mumbles.

I glance at his fingers instinctively, like I can still see the filling there. “Is it…is it out of your system?”

His brows furrow almost comically. “Cherries?”

“Me,” I tell him. When he doesn't answer, I explain, “We can't do this at home, Cardan… our parents…” he snorts at that, but never really gives me an answer.

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