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“Behave for me darling,” Will murmured in Lisa’s ear as cold fingertips traced up her bare leg, barely skimming the top of the long socks she’d put on that morning.
She wanted to open her mouth to ask her uncle what was happening, but it felt as if all her energy was simply going into opening her eyes after each blink. Each thought was like pushing through syrup, thick and heavy.
The only things she could reliably keep track of were her uncle's cool hands as they slid over her body, and the familiar piercing feeling of his eyes over her. She never had to guess when he was looking at her. instead, it was a tingling sensation that started at her shoulders, then moved to fill every part of her body.
She could never decide whether the feeling was a good one or bad one— by the time she thought about it, her uncle's hand was resting protectively on her shoulder as he began guiding her off into another room so the adults could talk.
She shuddered as the hand moved from her thigh to slide upwards, his large palm easily cupping under her, before dragging her onto his lap. Lisa jolted, her body swaying as her delayed reflex made her tip over, only to be firmly caught and braced by her uncle's arm. His hand curled around her waist, the other stroking a reassuring thumb along her thigh where it rested cupping her bottom.
“There we go,” He murmured, nuzzling his head against the pale waves of hair. Lisa leaned into the motions dizzily, not understanding this where this physically doting version of her uncle came from, unwilling to question it.
Will clicked his tongue at the movement, moving his lower hand from her rear to pet messy blonde hair, smoothing it down as he continued cooing at her. “you're doing so well, love. Don’t fight it.”
What “it” was, was unclear. Her uncle? This slothy, cotton-filled feeling? Lisa took in a stuttering breath, having to manually get herself to breathe as her uncle's scarred fingertips dragged along her ribcage. They felt cold against her skin, making goosebumps stand on her arm as she struggled to decide whether to lean into or away from the touches.
The hand previously holding her against William started trailing higher, skirting the curve of her baby fat and coming to hold her waist. The other hand soon followed, and William felt his cock twitch at how easily his fingertips met as they circled her body.
His darling girl, his little doll, so perfect just for him. He never believed in a God, but Lisa has been the strongest argument in the divines favor so far. Little else could explain how she looked at him with such sincere adoration, how everything about her seemed to be made just for him.
In a rare fit of sentimentality, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. The skin was slightly warm and damp with sweat— Lisa’s body's response to the strange influx of chemicals in her body, trying to flush them out.
Impulsively, William stuck out his tongue to lick at the light sheen.
The faintly salty taste hovered on his tongue, before fading as saliva pooled in his closed mouth. He sucked at his tongue as he savored the remains, sliding a hand down to press against his new problem.
That was the issue with doting on his poor niece– the girl was terrible for his self-control.
He let out a sigh as he squeezed himself through his trousers, nuzzling into Lisas neck. He felt his lips brush against her throat as her head lulled backwards. He chuckled to himself before sliding his hand up Lisas spine to crawl up the back of her skull, blonde curls running through nimble fingers as he cupped the back of her head. Like this, Lisa was as defenseless as a babe, barely able to manage to move her limbs. Even then, most of her movement was little more than spirited twitches. Something darkly satisfied nestled in Williams' chest at the realization.
He nuzzled his stubble against the delicate skin under her jaw, wishing– not for the first time– that he could somehow mark her as his. Scent her, as cats do. Scar her, as his.
He pressed fluttering kisses across the pale skin, his teeth itching with the urge to bite and bruise the flawless skin under him. He half-wished for the worrying of his tongue and the roughness of his beard to pinken the line of her neck.
It would bring far more questions than William could be able to realistically brush off.
Still, the desire remained.
To free himself from temptation, William moved his affection up. Nosing at the curve of her jaw before hovering in front of parted pink lips. Being as close to Lisa as he was, of course he’d kissed the girl. Little pecks while marveling at how she’d grown since the last time he’d seen her, more for the show of it than out of any actual desire to be overly affectionate to a child that wasn’t his. Being a good uncle, a reliable brother.
William felt himself smirk— although to anyone watching it would look more like a grimace— at the thought.
He pressed his lips to Lisa’s; in the girl's drunken stupor she seemed to have barely registered Williams actions, her mouth still parted from her attempt at getting more air. The pink skin was both soft and chapped. To be expected, as the weather cooled and the air crisped.
Absurdly, he thought that he hadn't had a kiss that felt like this since his boyhood.
So much was the same: the flush in his face, that desperate hunger for more, the thrill of getting away with something that felt forbidden.
As he pressed against her lips, he felt the bite of teeth pressing into thin skin as he flicked a tongue out to lick at the top of her little mouth. He felt ravenous, as if he were a lone orphan whelp that had been left to grovel and starve— suddenly placed in front of a feast.
Lisa made a muffled cry as her lips were abruptly sealed. Deliriously, Lisa felt panic in her rise as her main source of air was cut off.
Almost choking as the thick muscle bullied its way to fill her mouth, her vision started to blur as the beginning of tears started gathering in her eyes. She didn’t understand why this was happening, what she did to cause this change in her uncle.
All she wanted was for her Uncle Will to get her a glass of water, the way he always did when she started crying. She wanted him to sit next to her on her bed, petting her hair as she wheezed in between gulps of water. The routine to work the same magic it always did, somehow miraculously cutting off her wet sobs at the root.
She wanted him to listen patiently with the same knowing eyes he always did, as she retold the story of how she ended up beside him with her glass cradled in two small hands. She wanted him to kiss her forehead and reassure her that tomorrow would be a new day, that each one was a brand new start.
William let out a low groan as he played with Lisa’s small tongue, the little thing barely twitching as he scraped it with his teeth. Everything felt wet. It was perhaps inevitable, given both his hunger and the difference between them. As he pulled back from her red mouth, he felt the cool air follow the trails of saliva across his mouth; patches of his beard being uncomfortably damp as he wiped his face on the top of his arm.
With the hand not keeping Lisa upright, he greedily trailed up the faint curves of her body, taking the blouse previously tucked into her skirt with it. Slowly, inch by inch, more milky flesh exposed itself to William's hungry eyes.
He cupped just below where her small tits began, wanting to sear the image of his scarred hand on Lisa’s body in photographic detail.
If not for the drowsy expression on his niece's face, he’d be worried about having his own milk laced.
His heart felt like it could fight its way out of his rib cage— the euphoric feeling making his guts flutter upwards; having finally given in, finally taking what he wanted, finally taking what was his— was only matched by the pressing weight of the coming fall.
The guilt, the fear.
If he was caught, if his darling Lisa said the wrong thing, his life would be over. There would be no coming back from this. No excuse could be made, no reason justified.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, holding it before letting it slowly slide out his lips. Dark lashes fluttered open as he considered his next move.
He dipped Lisa down to lie flat on the living room sofa, petting a stray hair away from her chubby face. Standing up from the couch, he took a glance at the clock before turning back to his niece, sliding an arm under her knees and neck in a classic princess carry.
Carefully, he picked up his niece and began the steady path to his bedroom. Evenly walking past family portraits and pretentious landscapes, he paused to gently shoulder open the dark wooden door of the master bedroom. Putting a knee on the bed, he settled Lisa under the hastily neatened blankets from earlier that morning.
Raising a hand to her face, he carefully combed tousled curls away from her face.
Somehow in the span of the thirty seconds it took for him to carry her to the bedroom, she had passed out. It followed his original plan to a tee.
He pushed himself away from the queen-sized bed, reaching out a hand to squeeze the wooden frame as he hung his head. Idly, his other came to rub at his jaw in thought, the prickling sensation from the stiff hair a welcome distraction as he tried to convince himself to leave the room. To leave the young girl to sleep off the rest of her high. They didn't have long left by themselves, it wouldn't be more than an hour before Clara would be home with the children from the monthly visit to her mother.
He glanced back at Lisa, lips still slightly slick from the drool having slipped from her mouth.
William shuffled until he was leaning over her, watching his shadow cast from his bulk blocking the ceiling fan. A part of it felt poetic, the only thing between Lisa and the shine of light was William himself.
As his eyes traced her face, he soothed himself with the knowledge that this time wouldn’t be the last.