Work Text:
A small earwig with a rustling packet of treats in its pincers keeps its beady eyes trained on Wanda. She's not hungry, but she still unfolds off her crouch and walks out from under the awning. The early afternoon sun is too hard on her bare skin, but she won't have to stay in it for long. She approaches the wall of the pit closest to the earwig and looks up. She makes a tzk-tzk noise by pressing her tongue twice against the roof of her mouth while exhaling air. It sounds roughly like the sound the earwigs make when they're asking for something. Then she raises her hands in the air.
The earwig chitters excitedly at its... parent, and must receive permission, because it carefully shakes out a treat the size of a walnut over the railing. Wanda catches it out of the air, and that causes another round of chittering and appendage waving. The bugs never stop being excited by displays of human dexterity. Opposable thumbs are all the rage, it seems. If only they'd helped humankind win the war. If an invasion so short and devastating could be called a war.
Wanda takes her treat back under the awning, and sits with her legs folded on her sleeping mat to eat it in small bites. It's sweet and tastes a little like dates. She and Pietro never get anything sweet in their regular food. Wanda doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, and Pietro - none at all, but anything rare becomes interesting.
On his own mat, Pietro snorts in his sleep, covers his eyes with his forearm and continues dozing. Wanda's mostly managed to get him back to sleeping at night, but he still has an afternoon nap every day like a lazy cat. It's strange to believe six months ago he'd pace the perimeter of their cage all day long.
Not that he's given up now. He's sunk into a routine of biding time. He keeps in shape, he stores information, and he waits for an opportunity. Wanda can't say she has even that much of a plan. She has no aims in life but to take care of Pietro.
Funny how all her plans for revenge against Tony Stark faded into the background. It helps that if Stark is alive, he's in another zoo just like this one. A worse punishment than anything she and Pietro could have meted out to him.
Wanda licks her fingers clean off the maybe-date paste, and wonders if she and Pietro are still in Europe. They got drugged and moved twice, and this place has a warmer climate than Sokovia.
The crowd is sparse at this time of day - the earwigs are crepuscular, most active around dawn and twilight, so there's little need to perform. When they first ended up here, Wanda and Pietro curled up as far away from the bugs as possible during the day, and walked around and exercised during the night. But the crowd around their enclosure started to thin, and Wanda had a nasty, but uncomfortably plausible idea. What if the unpopular specimens got rid of? Zoo animals had to be interesting to earn their keep.
So she managed to prod Pietro out of his sullen pacing. She started doing stretches out in the open during the most popular hours, and Pietro did squats, sit-ups, pull-ups on a bar, things like that. They swam in their pool and groomed each other's hair.
It worked. They've been drawing big crowds for some time, and things started showing up along with their food. A skipping rope. Combs. A watering can. Nail clippers. Wind-chimes. Inflatable pool balls. Mostly useful objects, a few oddities.
Not clothes. The bugs like their humans bare, it seems. But then human zoos didn't give the elephants tutus either.
When the sun starts going down, Wanda crawls up to her brother and buries her fingers in his hair to wake him. It's almost to his shoulders now. Hers is brushing her waist.
Pietro groans in protest and rolls over onto the bare stone floor.
"Come on, it's time for work," Wanda says in a sing-song voice. If they pretend their predicament is funny, it's easier to bear.
Pietro mutters something about overtime and pushes up onto his elbows. He blinks sleepily at her and then his eyes flick down to her breasts, before settling back on her face. They still have trouble adjusting to the constant nudity. Some of Wanda's earliest childhood memories feature toddler Pietro zooming around wet and naked after a bath, but the twenty years that passed since then have made the experience strange again.
"So, any ideas for today?" she asks, ignoring the awkward moment like she knows her brother will do next time her eyes linger on his swinging penis as he walks.
Pietro yawns hugely and gives a whole body shrug. It's so over the top nonchalant that she knows what he'll suggest before he does. "Me time? Haven't done that in a while, the cockroach perverts probably miss it."
Me time is code for jerking off. They held out for a long time, but they're both young and the boredom here seems to increase the libido. At least, Wanda hopes fervently it's just the boredom. Pietro joked once, two months ago, that the bugs were putting something in their food. That joke doesn't seem funny anymore, if it ever did.
If they only do it at night, the bugs send beetle-like drones to spy on them. The metallic clack of their sharp legs and the way they almost jabbed their antennas into your skin made public masturbation a preferable alternative.
"Sure, might as well," Wanda agrees.
She does a bit of stretching while Pietro does push-ups on the still warm stone slabs by their pool. Some bugs show up and start taking photos of them with their strange devices. Pietro waves a middle finger at them and some of the earwigs wave their appendages back. They look so friendly like this. Nothing could make Wanda forget what they did during the attack though, how they mowed down and tore through human beings.
By unspoken agreement, she and Pietro take their usual jerking off positions - with their backs to each other at different ends of the stretch of open space between the awning and the pool. Wanda sits on her heels, knees half open, and begins fingering herself. She doesn't need any warm-up these days. The bugs start getting excited almost as soon as she begins. Maybe there's something about the smell of human arousal that they find interesting. They sure don't seem to want to mate with humans, thank fuck.
Slick builds up fast, to the point that it starts dripping out of Wanda and forming a wet patch on the ground. Squelching noises come from between her legs and from behind her, where Pietro has build up a rhythm as well.
Wanda fucks herself with three fingers, pussy hungry and receptive. The wall between her cunt and bladder is especially sensitive. It doesn't take much to come, and when it happens she throws her head back and rides it out without any shame. She used to wish she could make noise during sex. She can't, it feels silly and the one time she tried to fake it she couldn't come for the longest time. These days she's glad. Pietro is the same, quiet.
Wanda chances a look over her shoulder to see if he's done. No, that's a lie, she can tell by the noises that he's not done. But she's curious. He's jerking off on his feet, lean muscles clenching in his back and ass when he thrusts into his hand. He looks sleek and wound up, like a beautiful animal in rut.
Wanda faces the other way quickly and shakes her head. She mustn't get into the habit of thinking of them as animals. Even if she feels more like one than she ever has in her life - all primal instincts, her body perfectly lean and more used to running on instinct than it's ever been.
She rises to her feet and goes to relieve herself into the hole in the corner, and then sinks into the pool. The water gets changed through tiny holes in the bottom so that it's always clean. A small relief. She dips under the surface to wet her hair and then swims lazy laps until Pietro joins her.
He looks a little bit calmer. Not much, but it's nice to see her twin smile. He has a tiny chip on his front left tooth, courtesy of a fall from a tree when they were nine. Wanda has always found it makes his otherwise perfect smile endearing.
He splashes water on her.
"Hey! I just did my make-up," she yells, splashing him back.
That escalates to a scuffle in the water. Wanda manages to dunk him, and Pietro dives close to the bottom and pulls her down by her kicking legs. Under the water they're briefly alone. Wanda can feel Pietro's slick, flat belly with the inside of her thigh before his big hands close behind her knees and flip her aside and away.
Wanda surfaces with a laugh and flings her wet hair off her face. Pietro shows up a second later, his brown mane darkened with water, glistening in the evening sun.
The bugs seem very happy. Some of them have even changed color from gray to olive green, which is a sign of especially good mood. Wonderful. 5/5 would visit this human zoo again.
Pietro heaves himself out of the pool and pulls Wanda out next without asking. For a second she hangs off his arms and feels more like a toy than a grown woman. In bare feet she comes up to his nose, and she still misses the long stretch during their childhood when they were exactly the same height. Made it so much easier to whisper secrets to each other.
Pietro sets her down on the dry floor, then jogs to the towel rack and throws one to Wanda. The second he wraps around his shoulders. The pit is still comfortably warm, but out of the water and after the hot day, Wanda is shivering ever so slightly.
She pats herself down, suppressing the urge to rub the towel against her pussy for longer than strictly necessary. For goodness' sake, she just came.
Pietro has dried himself everywhere but on the back of his head. Wanda sighs, spreads out her own towel on the rack, and then reaches for his.
"I swear, you're just too lazy to function. Come here."
"Whose fault is that?" Pietro shoots back, letting her towel all of his hair properly.
"Mom and Dad's," Wanda mutters, and is sorry right away. They don't talk about their parents. Not here. Besides, it’s not like it's true. They didn't pamper Pietro any more than her. It's Wanda who's much too willing to spoil her brother.
Pietro says nothing after she's done, but he drags their sleeping mats together, and when Wanda sits down, he puts his head on her lap. Facing away so it seems more normal. She smooths his damp hair back, traces his ear, his clean jawline with a finger.
The bugs are almost gone, only a last few stragglers lingering around the edges of the pit. Wanda tries to ignore them.
Pietro turns over onto his back. That's new. His head is still in the middle of Wanda's thighs, touching nothing inappropriate, but she still feels a frisson of unease curl in her belly. She wishes she’d thought to bring her hair over her shoulders and cover her breasts, but if she does that now it’ll only be more awkward.
"Sestrichke," Pietro says, the diminutive for a sister he used to use all the time before he decided he was too grown up for it. Coupled with his defenseless eyes, the word makes a surge of protectiveness push Wanda's unease away. He's always had beautiful eyes, Pietro has, just like their mother's. Bright blue with a hazel center. Wanda's are drab green. She used to be so jealous of him.
"Yes, my love?" she says, unconsciously addressing him with their mother’s favorite endearment.
That makes the corner of Pietro's mouth curl up in a slightly mocking smile, but at least that's more in tune with his usual self.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"
"I don't know," Wanda answers. A bald-faced lie. The walls of the pit are high and smooth, the top few meters electrified. Wanda and Pietro only get taken out for medical checkups, under partial sedation. And even if they could somehow get out, the whole planet is under bug control. But Pietro doesn't need her to tell him this.
All of the earwigs are gone now. Soon it'll be time for dinner. She and Pietro will pass the days, somehow. They'll survive. It's not much to look forward to. If Wanda was alone, she's sure she'd have sunk into despair or apathy by now. But she has her brother, and that's enough to live for.
"You never did wear makeup though, right? Excluding your goth phase," Pietro says out of nowhere. He's staring up at Wanda intently.
"So?"
"So, I've never seen a more beautiful girl, and you're all natural. You're sharp as a tack too. It's not fair."
Wanda has no idea what to answer to that. The truth - that he's no slouch himself - will go to Pietro's head. He'll preen for a while and tease her, and maybe that's why he said it, to fish for compliments.
Wanda has the sudden, surreal fantasy of telling on Pietro to their parents. Hey, Papa. Hey, Mama, how are you doing? Heaven treating you all right? Pietro and I give sex shows to giant bugs every other day. I'd kill for some hot coffee with cardamom. Love, your daughter.
"What does it matter how I look, or how clever I am?" Wanda says, without much bitterness. "Nobody to appreciate it but you. For those things one human being is as good as the next."
"Fuck them," Pietro says with feeling. He sits up with alarming speed and takes Wanda's face gently between his hands. "It matters to me that it's you. I'd have gone crazy without you. Sometimes I wake up and I think- I think I dreamed you were here with me. I think I'm alone and I don't know where you are, or what happened to you."
Wanda shrugs his hands off and embraces him. She's done it before to console him, whenever he let her. He does now, burying his face into her neck. He smells nice and clean, of whatever the bugs put into the water to remove impurities. His skin has no intrinsic smell that Wanda can detect, and that's a shame. Perhaps they have the exact same scent, and so she can't perceive it.
Wanda lets her mind drift. She strokes the back of Pietro’s neck and he kisses her throat. Small, reverent kisses. Wanda has gotten used to selectively ignoring her surroundings, and nothing that’s happening is painful, so it doesn’t register too deep. It's a shock when she shifts to keep her legs from falling asleep and her thigh brushes...
Pietro jumps back and wheels around, still sitting.
"Sorry. Sorry, I- They must have upped the dose of the roofies in the chow," he laughs, with an edge of madness to it.
Wanda bites her lower lip until it goes numb and clutches her hands together to keep from touching his back, or rubbing her thigh where his erection glanced off her. It was so hot, it feels like it should have left a burn mark.
"It's okay," she says, and rises to gather the haul of treats the bugs dropped over the railing. She and Pietro will divvy them up for dessert.
That night, Wanda can't fall asleep. Neither can her brother. He dragged his mat as far from hers as he could, but she can still hear him tossing and turning every few minutes.
Through the transparent roof of their "home", the stars are bright and numerous. There is some coating on it though, likely to stop UV rays, and so the starlight looks distorted. Tainted. The low glow of the yellow safety lights in the pit looks perversely more comforting.
Silently, Wanda slips out of bed and walks over to her brother. She perches on the corner of his mat. He sighs and moves his legs for her, and only then does he say, "what's wrong?".
"They really are giving us something to increase libido," Wanda says, in an even voice. "They're upping the dosage because it isn't working. They might put someone else down here with us next."
"I'll kill him," Pietro says, in the same level voice. Wanda almost smiles grimly at his assumption that it will be another man.
"Or maybe they'll separate us," she says next, and is ready when his hand shoots out and grasps her ankle in a death grip. She doesn't move a muscle, she just voices the rest. "So we have to- we have to start doing what they want."
Pietro makes no sound. Wanda swallows, feeling something click in her constricted throat, and steels herself for the next part. She shifts her center of gravity, and starts crawling up his body. He releases her ankle right away, but his fingers skim her side and grip her hip instead.
"What are you doing?!"
"Do you want to do this for the first time with dozens of them watching?" Wanda asks, hovering over him. Her hair spills down over her shoulder and onto his chest. His hold on her hip tightens.
"I don't want to do this at all," Pietro says, with the tilt up at the end of the sentence that means he's lying.
But that's fine, Wanda thinks. That's better. They have to do this anyway, so it's better that he wants to. She doesn't want to. Her pussy's been getting steadily warmer and wetter ever since she started seriously contemplating this, but she definitely doesn't want it.
"That's okay. We can just cuddle," she says, and they both know she's a lying liar who lies.
But Pietro lets her lower herself half-next, half on top of him. Her long leg slung over his knee, her arm resting on his middle, her left breast smushed against his ribcage. It even really feels like cuddling.
He nuzzles the top of her head, much too tender. Wanda must put them on the right track.
She slides up his body to kiss him on the mouth. Then again, and again. Small, open mouthed kisses that make popping noises in the near dark. Pietro sighs like he's being put upon, and opens his mouth. He sticks his tongue in her mouth. His kiss is brash and experienced.
Once he starts kissing back it's like a dam has been broken. He presses his mouth like a stamp to Wanda's cheek, her neck, her shoulder. He hitches her up to suck on her hardening nipple. Her gasp sounds almost scandalized, like she didn't start this whole thing herself.
She doesn't know what she expected. For Pietro to put up more of a fight, she guesses.
"How are you so-" his hand slips around her hip down her leg, and then back up. "You're like silk."
There's a honest wonder in his voice, which sounds rougher, and Wanda has to bite back the wrong response. In the end she doesn't laugh, and she doesn't cry while she laughs. Even when you're about to fuck your twin brother in a zoo pit, you have to cling to some semblance of composure.
Pietro's hand slips between her legs, and suddenly his fingers are on her cunt, gliding in her slick, dipping in. Wanda thought she was prepared, but this is too fast. He's like a spoiled kid allowed a lick from the honey jar who sticks his whole hand in right away.
"You're perfect," Pietro says, breathless. He rolls her over and Wanda gasps when half her back presses to the cool floor. Pietro drags her, literally drags her back over the mat. The combination of care and selfish manhandling is somehow arousing beyond belief.
She grabs a fistful of his hair and tugs, or is about to, but Pietro’s closing the distance between their faces anyway. He kisses her mouth again, spreading her legs at the same time. The tips of his fingers and his blunt nails make Wanda tilt her hips on instinct. Pietro’s middle finger sinks into her all the way, long and obscene. He pulls out and adds another.
"How many guys have had you before me?" he asks, and Wanda can hear the smirk in his voice as clearly as the jealousy.
"None of your business," she hisses out. Her brother's fingers are.... oh, this is so fucked-up.
"I bet it's not that many, you're so nice and tight," he says. Wanda would tell him that's not how it works, but he presses hard on the wall of her cunt as he drags his fingers out, just like Wanda does when she jerks off. He’s been peeking as well. Suddenly talking seems like a tall order.
"Brat," she can only murmur through her teeth, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him in.
"But you don't mind that, do you, sis?"
His cock bobs and the head taps against Wanda's pussy. He does it again, on purpose. That strange, hypocritical feeling that says they should have made more of a dance of reluctance about this surfaces again. Pietro laughs, low and intimate and just a little mad, like he can tell what she’s thinking.
Wanda's so dizzy she can't even draw breath. Her cunt clenches on nothing and her hand wraps around the top of Pietro's cock before she realizes she reached for him.
It's a nice cock, long and thick, which explains some of the cockiness and the long string of overlapping girlfriends. Supposedly, women don't care about size. Wanda doubts she's the only one who disproves that piece of wisdom. She gives Pietro's cock a long pull, and it somehow reminds her of tugging on a leash. Her brother gives a strangled grunt, and thrusts on reflex between her hand and her pussy. Revenge would be sweet if it wasn't so maddening for Wanda as well.
She squirms and shifts her hand until the tip of him is poised at her opening.
With delirious clarity she remembers a time - or is it a succession of times melded into a single memory - when she and Pietro watched their parents have sex. It was summer, hot as hell, and the bedroom window opened on a blind yard that stank of mold and vegetable peelings. So instead their parents kept the bedroom door and the living room windows wide open.
Wanda and Pietro were very little then. They slept on the foldout couch, which offered a perfect view into the bedroom. It was like a play just for them, like something on TV. Wanda remembers how she and Pietro giggled into their pillows when their mother’s breasts jumped up and down as she bounced. Or when their father’s tool hung between his legs before he mounted her like he was one of the donkeys carrying tourists round the city center.
"Stay with me," Pietro whispers, soft again, like he's waiting for another permission. This flip-flopping between lust, shamelessness and vulnerability will end in some kind of break when they're done, which is why Wanda was adamant that they do this alone the first time. But she mustn't think about the aftermath now.
Wanda cranes her neck up and latches onto Pietro’s mouth. She cups his face with her free hand, and starts to feed his cock into her pussy with the other. The tip is barely pressing in when Pietro groans and takes over. A couple of stuttered pushes, and he's forcing his way in, fat and selfish, until he bottoms out.
It feels great and hurts in equal measure. Pietro's size, the texture, his restless shifting, the fact that she's wet as a leaky faucet and there’s no condom in the way, everything combines into an overwhelming cocktail of sensation and for a few moments Wanda forgets where she is, who she is, why she's doing this. A bunch of commandos could kick down the door and scream "We're rescuing you, up on your feet and let's go!" and she'd still tilt her ass up and wriggle on her brother's cock with her lips parted and panting.
Pietro starts thrusting, and Wanda makes a valiant attempt to meet him halfway, but she feels pleasure drunk and embarrassingly clumsy. Her pussy feels different to any other time she's had sex. Sensitized, like the center of her pleasure. She couldn't give a shit about her clit right now, but she wants to get pounded raw, fucked loose, used and-
Pietro's thrusts start getting longer, his hands greedy on Wanda’s hips, his fingers curling on her ass cheeks. If this was any other guy, she couldn't have sunk so low. She has way too much self-respect, and way too much baggage from growing up as a woman in the Balkans to let anyone else rail her like this. But she knows Pietro loves her, knows he will always love her and never look down on her.
And the thought of giving him so much pleasure, so much of herself, of taking care of him, all of that strums an old, strong string in her mind, deep in her hind brain. It was always there, even while they grew curled together in the same womb. Nothing will ever break it.
They've reached some kind of rhythm, a wild, jerky one, slapping their bodies together. It feels like riding a wild wave for a while, then the sensations crest into too much discomfort.
Wanda nips at Pietro’s lip to get his attention.
"You okay?" he says, still in that rough voice.
"Slow down."
He does. Of course he does. His muscles tighten everywhere they touch, but he slows down. It's still a deep, hard fuck, but in the way that makes Wanda want to moan during sex for the first time in her life. She wants this to last forever.
But her pussy starts giving painful little spasms, deep, close to her cervix, and she knows she’ll come now no matter what. If she tries to clamp down on it, it'll just turn into the kind of orgasm that’s all cramps with very little gratification.
"I'm close," Pietro announces, and starts grinding into her, rolling his hips right into her cervix, shooting up little stabs of pleasure-pain into her belly, and she's gone. She comes hard and long, clenching around him, milking him, and he shoots right into her cunt, no barrier between them.
After the twitching, squelching, and aftershocks are all done, Pietro flops onto her like a sack and Wanda gathers his head to her chest.
Her inner thigh muscles ache, her pussy stings, her brother’s considerable weight makes it hard to breathe, and she just had the best orgasm of her life from a sloppy animal fuck.
Wanda decides not to let any of that bother her right now.
In a minute, she'll herd her half-asleep, uncooperative brother to the pool to wash up, and then to her clean mat to catch some shut eye. They'll cuddle lazily for warmth, affection and because they've earned it, and if anyone has a fit of crippling guilt they'll deal with it in the morning.
~ ~ ~
Excerpt from an invader news bulletin:
"And now, a happy event for you zoo buffs. A favorite attraction at the ***** Zoo, a mated pair of humans of the Buckskin variety, have been moved to a new, larger enclosure to accommodate all visitors wishing to observe them in their natural habitat. The zoo spokesinsect assures everyone that at long last the full spectrum of friendly human behaviors can be observed in these specimens and that they're one of the biggest successes of conservation efforts to date. The zoo has opened a contest for naming these special inhabitants. Cast your vote for your favorite name by making a donation of your choosing to the ***** Zoo. All funds raised through this contest will go towards the zoo’s Enrichment Fund, which provides valuable mental enrichment items for all the humans in the zoo's care. Aww, doesn't that just warm your primary heart? Now back to BBbzzzzt with the weather..."