The apartment was quiet after midnight, the kind of hush that made every creak of the floorboards feel like a confession. Takashi Komiya padded barefoot down the hallway, drawn by a faint glow spilling from beneath Miko's door. He told himself he was just checking the locks—old habit from when their father was alive—but the soft, breathy moan that slipped through the crack stopped him cold.
He pressed his eye to the gap.
Miko knelt on her bed in nothing but a sheer pink babydoll, the fabric clinging to her small, pert breasts. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder as she arched her back for the webcam propped on a tripod. A ring light painted her skin in soft gold, highlighting the sheen of sweat on her collarbones. Between her thighs, a slim silver vibrator buzzed against her slick, shaved pussy, her fingers guiding it in slow, deliberate circles.
"Tip two hundred more," she purred to the glowing chat window, voice husky, "and I'll let you watch me cum."
Takashi's cock twitched in his sweatpants. He should walk away. Instead, he eased the door open another inch.
Miko's eyes fluttered shut as the toy pressed harder. Her free hand pinched a nipple, rolling it until it stood stiff and dark. A soft whimper escaped her—real this time, not for show. Her hips rocked forward, chasing the vibration, thighs trembling. The chat exploded with tokens.
She came with a sharp gasp, back bowing, toes curling into the sheets. The vibrator slipped free, glistening with her juices, and she smiled lazily at the camera. "Good boys," she whispered, blowing a kiss.
Takashi retreated before she noticed, heart hammering. He jerked off in the bathroom, picturing her flushed face, the way her pussy had clenched around nothing when she climaxed. By morning, the plan was already forming.
---
Breakfast was chaos as usual. Elena hummed in the kitchen, blonde hair twisted up in a messy bun, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder to reveal the curve of a breast their father used to call "dangerous." Aiko stumbled in late, still in last night's club makeup, smelling of smoke and cheap cologne. Miko appeared last, fresh-faced in an oversized hoodie, innocence plastered on like a mask.
Takashi waited until Elena left for yoga and Aiko vanished into the shower. Then he cornered Miko at the sink, caging her with his arms.
"I saw your show," he said, low.
The sponge slipped from her fingers. "W-what?"
"Pink babydoll. Silver vibe. You came so hard the bed shook." He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Imagine if Mom knew. Or your subscribers found out their favorite camgirl's screwing her brother for silence."
Miko's breath hitched. "Takashi, please—"
"Shh." He slid a hand under the hoodie, finding bare skin, tracing the dip of her waist. "Be mine, and no one ever knows."
Her eyes searched his—fear, then something darker. Resignation. Hunger. She nodded.
---
Her room smelled like vanilla and sex. Takashi locked the door, pushed her gently onto the unmade bed. The webcam stared at them like a blind witness.
"Show me," he said.
Miko hesitated, then peeled off the hoodie. No bra. Her nipples tightened in the cool air. She lay back, knees parting, revealing the same smooth pussy he'd watched clench last night. Already wet.
Takashi knelt between her legs, inhaling her scent—sweet, musky, addictive. He kissed her inner thigh, slow, deliberate, working upward until his breath ghosted over her folds. Miko whimpered.
"Touch yourself like you do for them," he murmured.
Fingers trembling, she spread herself open, circling her clit with the same rhythm she'd used on cam. Takashi watched, cock straining, then replaced her hand with his tongue.
Miko cried out, hips bucking. He licked her slowly—long, flat strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her taste. When he sucked her swollen nub, she threaded fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. He slid one finger inside her, then two, curling to stroke that spot that made her sob his name.
"Please… inside me…"
He stood, shoving down his pants. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, a bead of precum at the tip. Miko's eyes widened, but she spread wider, guiding him to her entrance.
Takashi pushed in slowly, groaning at the tight, wet heat. Inch by inch, he filled her, pausing when she tensed. "Breathe," he whispered, kissing her deeply. She relaxed, and he sank fully, buried to the hilt.
They moved together—slow, grinding rolls of his hips, her legs wrapped around his waist. He angled to hit her G-spot with every thrust, watching her face: eyes glassy, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Her small breasts bounced gently; he caught one nipple between his teeth, tugging until she keened.
"Brother… I'm—"
"Cum for me, Miko. Just me."
She shattered, pussy clamping down, milking him as she sobbed into his shoulder. The sensation dragged him over—hot pulses deep inside her, marking her as his.
They stayed locked together, panting. Takashi kissed her forehead, tasting salt. "Good girl."
Miko smiled shyly, tracing his jaw. "Your turn to tip," she teased, voice hoarse.
He laughed, rolling them so she straddled him, still soft inside her. "Every night," he promised. "And no more shows for strangers."
She nodded, already rocking again, eager for round two.
Outside, the apartment was silent. For now.