Chapter Text
Since starting university, Jisung’s least favorite time of year is winter holidays. There’s fuck all to look forward to as an adult, years beyond the joys of eagerly waiting for gifts from Santa, before having kids of your own. The excitement for the start of a new year died after middle school. It’s barely a redeemable part of the academic year, even with it’s a well-intended reprieve from a grueling academic and athletic schedule.
Because after almost two decades of living in his family’s two bedroom apartment home, the newfound freedom of having a space away from his sister for the last three years has made coming home for a solid month miserable.
“You’re such a fucking slob,” Felix groans, her duffel bag landing on the rug with a thud.
Jisung arrived at the apartment three days before she did, settling in and staking his claim in their childhood bedroom. He couldn’t fathom what the hell he had done in not even 72 hours to warrant such a caustic response from his twin—refusing to greet him with a cordial hello.
He lays on his bed in his boxers, phone still blaring an episode of Chainsaw Man, facedown on his duvet. He looks over at the small piles of flannel tees thrown over the back of his computer chair—hardly enough to warrant the level of Felix’s vitriol.
“Welcome home, Felix,” Jisung sings, a bitterness lingering on the back of his tongue. Even with having a few days to settle in, he wasn’t looking forward to her arrival.
Felix doesn’t respond, instead makes a long sigh and glares at him, her hand reaching for the zipper of her parka, the other pulling the beanie off her head and tossing it onto her duvet. He doesn’t understand why she didn’t take her coat off in the front room, but he doesn’t look away, watches her shed it from her shoulders, revealing her skintight white turtleneck and pleated tartan mini skirt.
He can tell she had it hemmed—remembers when she first bought it in high school, and it came to the top of her knees. Now, it sits midway up her thighs, and he can see the tops of her dark green over-the-knee socks cinched around them. Not even a pair of tights under all of that. Hyunjin must have talked her into it; the whole look makes her look taller than she actually is. Damn you, Hyunjin.
Jisung feels a lump form in his throat, staring at the dangerous space where he can see a bit of her soft, pale skin.
Felix kicks her duffel closer to her bed on the opposite side of the room. Jisung picks up his phone to keep watching Chainsaw Man, but his eyes wander to where Felix crouches over her belongings. She places herself onto her knees, leaning over the bag, and Jisung gets a view up the back of her skirt, a flash of her white panties on full display.
The lump in his throat swells, and he’s paralyzed, dropping his phone back onto the bed, unable to tear his eyes away—the way the elastic of her socks cinch around her unblemished thighs, her panties revealing a small, damp patch in the middle of the gusset. His stomach churns, knows that it’s wrong his first instinct was to press his fingers up against it, see if it’d make the stain darker.
It’s easier to fantasize about all of this when she’s turned away from him, for the split second he lets his lizard brain take over and ignore the fact Felix is his fucking sister.
When she stands up to place things into her wardrobe, she looks over her shoulder with disdain, and all of his illicit thoughts are snuffed out.
“What?” she says, ripping a hanger off the bar.
Jisung rolls his eyes and picks up his phone.
Jisung knows he started dating Hyunjin for the wrong reasons. Honestly, before the secret sex club orgy, he never gave her much thought, even with her reputation proceeding her. He knew far more than he cared to from a lot of his teammates: Hyunjin was easy, she was good in bed, and she was down for anything.
Which….she was. But, she ended up being a nice, and a very loyal girlfriend.
But, after that night at the you-know-what—no, after the morning after that night, he refused to accept what could have—or actually happened—was with anyone other than Hyunjin.
“I miss you,” Jisung mumbles into the phone, fingers idly playing with the waistband of his joggers. He’s sat in the family room, arm propped up on the armrest with an episode of Ranma ½ on the lowest volume playing in the background.
Jisung’s eyes flit to the little Christmas tree perched in the corner by the sliding glass window. The family trimmed most of it together the night Felix got home, a rope of icicle lights, gold tinsel garlands, mostly red and gold ornaments alongside a handful of nostalgic handmade ones made by him and Felix in grade school.
The angel on top is a little lopsided, their vacant eyes looming down at him. He should get up and fix it.
“Me, too,” Hyunjin says wistfully, a little breathless. He can picture her laid out on her bed, blonde hair fanned out on her soft pink pillow. She bleached it herself two weeks before finals in the sink of her suite. He wishes he was there to kiss the smile off her face, feel her legs clamp around his wrist. “You should come over.”
Hyunjin doesn’t live that far away—but far enough if he took the journey, he’d be gone far too long for his mother’s liking. They spent the night before washing and brining dozens of heads of cabbage for gimjang. They haven’t done it together for years, not since he and Felix started university, and he isn’t looking forward to being elbow deep in sok.
“Don’t tempt me,” Jisung teases. “You know I’m busy….”
He hears Hyunjin’s breath hitch on the other end—it’s only 10 in the morning, and his mom and Felix are out grabbing the last few supplies, and his father’s at the jjimjilbang with his uncles, but it’s no surprise to him that Hyunjin’s already worked up. She often wakes him up with her mouth and hands whenever she stays over at his room.
“Jisung….” her voice trails off. “I’m so lonely.”
He pinches his eyes shut, cold fingertips dipping further into his waistband. Maybe he can numb himself with them, zap his arousal, but they only make him shiver.
“It’s been like, what? Five days?”
“Six.” Hyunjin doesn’t even give a breath between them to answer. Six days since they last saw each other, since he kissed her, since she sucked his cock so good he got cramps in his toes and she laughed about it while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
In the eight months since he worked up the nerve to ask Hyunjin out and started dating her, he confirmed her reputation of being a good lay. He didn’t expect to be as charmed by her, especially by someone who was so close to Felix.
For the longest time, Hyunjin’s association with his baby sister made her feel like forbidden fruit—and the fact she was hot as fuck, too. For a while there, he thought Hyunjin was out of his league, to be honest, and after he heard about her hooking up with Choi San, he didn’t think he stood a chance.
Don’t get Jisung wrong—he’s a good looking guy, but no guy’s had more pussy thrown at his feet without even trying than Choi San.
Hyunjin’s attractive enough to turn heads every time they show up at a restaurant, a noraebang, a bowling alley—anywhere, really—and Jisung has to override every invasive thought in his mind that tries to convince him she isn’t actually that into him and will move onto someone else (or at least BACK to Choi San).
After their first handful of dates, Jisung dropped her off at her dorm, and always resorted to a chaste kiss on her cheek. He didn’t put out with her right away, as much as he wanted to, as curious as he was—and even the look of hopeful disappointment on her face made him second guess his self-imposed chastity.
“Baby can’t go a week without seeing me,” Jisung pulls his hand out from his waistband, and instead gently cups his soft cock over the fabric. He’s docile, teasing, lets the arousal stir through his fingertips.
Jisung hears the soft hum of agreement over the line, and it makes him dizzy with pride, his ego swelling in his chest.
“It’s just me, all alone, in this big house,” she teases. He can hear the tightness in her voice, can sense she’s either resisting or fully submitting to her own desires.
“You don’t know how to play by yourself?” He squeezes his cock more firmly this time, and it draws a silent gasp from his lips.
“Of course I do.” She sounds affronted, but it’s all in jest. “As an only child, I never had to share my toys, too.”
“Spoiled rotten then.”
“Hey,” she snaps. “I’m a good girl.”
“I know you are, Hyunjin….”
“Won’t you come over, then? Nobody’s here…mommy’s out with her friends, and daddy’s at work….”
“I can’t, baby,” and he answers earnestly. “Not this week.”
Miraculously, he can hear her pout through the phone, and it makes his stomach flutter. They definitely have plans for New Years together, but unfortunately, Jisung is trapped with his family at least through Christmas for the next four days.
“Don’t be sad. Why—why don’t you tell me how you like to play? By yourself?”
He hopes to god he sounds sure, confident—even if Hyunjin has been his girlfriend for over 8 months now. They’ve never done anything like this, and he can’t see her face—really wishes he had some way to know what he’s saying is doing it for her.
“Hmm,” Hyunjin ponders. “If that’s really all I’m gonna get out of you this week….”
“Take it or leave it,” Jisung teases, his palm cupping himself again. “Give me a sec.”
Jisung gets up from the couch and shuffles into his room. He plops onto his unmade bed, head falling onto the small mountain of pillows, his threadbare cotton duvet covered in faded blades of green grass smashed up against the wall. Jisung begged his mom to never get rid of it, even as the fabric turned soft and mottled with holes.
Immediately, he feels more confident confined to his bedroom, eyes on the ceiling and the elbow holding the phone propped on a stuffed, oversized penguin he won at a carnival in high school. Hyunjin lets out another breathy sigh, and if he really pays attention, he can hear the soft rustling of fabric.
“Much better,” he says, hand slipping between the waist band of his pants and palming over his boxers. He tries to keep it featherlight, imagines how Hyunjin would handle him—delicately, teasing. “Got you all to myself.”
“Anyone home?”
“No, just me.” The realization makes his nose itch, a shock prickle the back of his neck. It’s the first time since he’s come home he’s had time to himself.
“Good,” Hyunjin’s voice sounds far away for a moment, and he can hear the snap of elastic—wonders what she’s doing. Is she on her bed, too? Dressed in that pretty lime green lingerie set she wore for his birthday weekend at the love motel?
He shoves his pants and boxers down far enough to free himself, his dry cock twitching in the cool air, the trail of hairs under his navel standing up. Hyunjin looked so fucking hot riding him that night, her thong pushed to the side, just enough to sit on his dick and take him deep and slow. He almost came too fast watching her pussy creaming around him.
Jisung licks his palm a few times, teases the head of his cock and tugs himself to hardness, that visual seared in his mind as he focuses on Hyunjin’s sweet murmurs on the other end of the line.
Her voice crackles between each word, a warm purr that makes the hairs on his forearms stand up. It’s as good as her being there—he leans into his mountain of pillows and plushes, imagines it’s the weight of Hyunjin leaning against him, her hand on his.
“Fuck,” she gasps, can hear her breaths quicken. She tells him about how she misses his fingers inside of her, how hers aren’t enough, hears her suck on them and swallows down his jealousy through a moan, the phantom memory of the way she tastes dancing on his tongue.
“Close, baby.” Jisung props his foot up on the bed, knee bent, and he can’t help bucking his hips up, chasing his release. It’s sloppy, just how he likes it, grips his hand around himself just right, provoking a whimper to slip between his lips.
Hyunjin wails into the speaker, and Jisung almost drops his phone as he pulls it away from his ears, her tinny moans making him throb harder in his hand. “Jisung, Ji—Jisss—”
He holds his breath and tugs faster, his heels digging deeper into the mattress, his body tingling like he’s about to float toward the ceiling.
The door opens out of the corner of his eye, just as Jisung’s back bows off the bed, his first wave of orgasm hitting, a rope of cum striping up his jumper.
“Jesus!” Jisung lets go of himself, his back thumping down onto the mattress as he makes eye contact with Felix standing in the door frame, swimming in her oversize hoodie and sweatpants. Her eyes, vacant, are focused on his cock bobbing, another pathetic splash of cum spurts from the tip. Jisung feels like he’s going to be sick, his soul levitating out of his body—he couldn’t even enjoy it.
“Ye—” Hyunjin’s voice cuts off as Jisung hangs up the call and his hand scrambles to cover himself, exposed on his bed.
“Ya, Felix!” he barks, hand trying to cup his sensitive balls, wrist brushing against his foreskin and making him hiss. He can hardly hear himself speak, blood rushing to his ears. “Fucking knock!”
Felix doesn’t say a word, rooted in place just outside the threshold of the door, her eyes still not meeting his face. She tucks her lower lip between her teeth, anxiously rubbing her thumb in and out of the fist of her hand.
“Uh—uhm—” she stutters.
“Do you mind?” Jisung is stiff all over, except for his quickly softening cock, shielding himself as best as he can with his clothes halfway down his legs.
“Eomma wants us out here.”
“Now?” He thinks to grab his duvet, but he really doesn’t want to dirty that either, so he just continues to cover himself, careful not to make any other sudden movements.
“We—uh—” Felix finally looks away, toward her side of the room, and Jisung can relax a bit. “Appa’s home. Kimchi.”
Jisung feels the vibration of his phone next to his hip—Hyunjin’s calling him back.
“I—I—I gotta,” Jisung gestures, hand twisting in the air searching for the word, staring at the ceiling. “Shower.”
Felix nods quickly, reaches for the doorknob without a word and closes it behind her.
Jisung doesn’t bother doing more than towel drying his hair, throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and yellow raglan tee. He shuffles down the hallway into the family room, his mother carrying a red plastic tub, half the size of her, into the center of the family room.
All of the furniture’s been cleared to the edges of the room to make way for two plastic tablecloths taking over most of the room. Jisung didn’t spend long in the shower, and he’s amazed how much she and Felix managed to sort out. Most of the supplies are already laid out, bowls full of chopped greens, neatly shredded radish, including a stack of metal trays and an enormous basket full of washed cabbages propped on a corner. Jisung helped with prepping and brining them last night while Felix was out shopping with their aunties.
“Here,” his mother hands the tub to Jisung, and he takes it without a word, even if she was practically in the room already. There’s nothing in it, but he knows to place it in the center for them to mix together the sok.
He goes to follow her into the kitchen, see if there’s anything else she needs help bringing out, when Felix rounds the corner with a giant pot, her arms straining to carry it the rest of the way. She’s changed out of her baggy sweats, peeled off the layers and into a fitted navy tee, the scoop neck low and showing tops of her breasts where they’re pushed up together by her bra, and the way she holds onto the pot only makes them look bigger than Jisung’s used to.
Jisung’s throat turns dry, and he almost chokes when he spots her black safety shorts cinched high around her lithe waist. He’s never seen so much of Felix’s body before—at least in this way, not since before puberty and they were taking baths together. But this must be how she dresses around her dorm with Hyunjin—comfy, careless.
“Help,” Felix squeaks, face turning pink as she waddles forward, even before Jisung takes the stock pot full of liquid from her hands. It’s heavy, but it’s also barely a hardship for him, his biceps flexing and carefully squatting to set it onto one of the tablecloths. He catches a whiff and realizes it’s the pumpkin broth—perfectly thick and sweet, his grandmother’s choice to thicken the sok.
Jisung looks up to where Felix is standing, her hands on her waist as she catches her breath, black hair pushed away from her face with a fluffy, white headband with kitten ears.
And he really shouldn’t be noticing the way her nipples poke through her shirt. He can’t exactly look her in the eye, either, after her walking in on him and Hyunjin, giving him the worst orgasm experience of his life.
“You’re welcome.” Jisung gives a sheepish smile, and Felix just raises an eyebrow, chest heaving in her push-up bra.
Felix rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
She walks to the other side of the table cloth and drops to her knees with feline grace, her movements silent as she leans forward on her hands to reach for a pair of pink gloves. Jisung has to avert his gaze, but doesn’t take his eyes off her entirely, watching her from his periphery as he reaches for another pair to snap on.
Their parents trek into the room, the final bowls of chopped veggies placed onto the mats, and their mother starts dumping them into the giant bowl in the middle to mix the sok. She puts Jisung and their father to work stirring, eyeballing each measurement and directing Felix what to pour next.
“I missed this,” their mother says, handing Jisung a head of cabbage to begin coating leaves.
Jisung smiles meekly, taking a bowl full of sok to station next to his container. He does his best to rub it into the perfectly brined yet crispy leaves, just how his grandmother taught him all those years ago.
“A bit late for gimjang,” their father speaks up. His tone is deadpan, but obviously teasing.
“Yah, be quiet!” She waves her hand, scowling, and Jisung sees Felix’s eyes widen, her head down as she massages at her cabbage. “School is more important—this could wait! And you know we can’t do this by ourselves another year.”
Jisung hadn’t considered their parents making all the kimchi themselves since they moved out—he figured she had parties with their aunties.
“Costco is fine,” their father tacks on, but this time follows with a wry smile.
Felix gasps, jaw dropping open. “Appa.…”
Jisung has to hold back a snort—if there’s one thing about their mother, it’s that she’s very prideful of her cooking, and she is well within her right to be. Nothing is better than his eomma’s food.
“Ugh—when I get you!” their mother shakes her finger.
He shuffles over to her side and gives her a peck for forgiveness on her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he laughs.
“You’re doing dishes,” she scolds, ducking away from his attempts to smother her with more affection. “Don’t stain my clothes, get away—shoo!”
They fall into a mindless rhythm, filling up box after box, stacking them into one corner of the mats. The station gets messier, with red trails of gochugaru dripping over the sides of containers. All of it makes Jisung’s stomach gurgle comically loud.
“Someone’s hungry,” their mother says.
“This isn’t helping.” Jisung seals up another container, gets up to take it to the stack.
“Hey,” Felix elbows him right in the hip, and he exaggerates a wince and tries to get back to his corner. “Get over here!”
He hasn’t been looking at the way her shirt’s slid down just that much further as they’ve worked for the last hour on their knees out of the corner of his eye—no way he’s seen the softness of her thighs pressed together, or the soft curves of the arches of her socked feet. He doesn’t want to keep looking down at her wide eyes, the smattering of freckles painted on the bridge of her nose, her perfectly plucked eyebrows—
His body doesn’t listen to what his mind wants, and he finds himself squatting right next to her anyway. She tears a bit of cabbage, gets the perfect bite with everything in it, folds it between her fingers and brings it to his lips. His mouth parts, accepting it with his tongue slipping out to get all of it.
Time slows, stretches as he maps out every bit of raw, fresh flavor—it’s going to taste so much better once all of the flavors settle. His nose tingles, a whiff of pepper prickling and making his eyes water as his lips close around Felix’s fingers. She makes no effort to move them, presses her gloved fingertips onto the tip of his tongue, and he watches her stare at his lips.
“Mmm,” he hums, turning his head away, her fingers slipping from his mouth, sok smearing onto his cheek as he chews at the bite. “Delicious, eomma.”
Felix’s hand hovers, her chest heaving from her quickened breaths. Jisung ignores the fizzing feeling in his fingertips, doesn’t linger any longer at the low neck of her shirt—especially in front of their parents.
He excuses himself to use the bathroom, peeling off his gloves.
It’s never easier for Jisung to be around Felix—the simmering anxieties he feels being near her takes root in his belly, dragging him face down in free fall. She’s his twin—someone he once declared he knew better than anyone else. He hasn’t entirely avoided her the last 10 months, but he does feel the fractures their independence has afforded them.
On Christmas Eve, Felix sits on his feet in the love seat to watch a variety show with their family, Jisung freezes, doesn’t move to make room for her. He doesn’t flinch when the side of her tank top slips up enough for her ribs to press against his bare shin. Instead, he strategically waits another ten minutes until he can excuse himself for a snack break, and comes back, sequestering himself to a spot on the floor, leaving the loveseat for Felix to sprawl out onto her side, head propped up by her elbow on the armrest, her other hand mindlessly rubbing circles over her soft, exposed belly.
He ignores the tautness in his own stomach when his back hits the edge of the sofa, and Felix drapes herself over his shoulder, her nimble fingers plucking around in his bowl to help herself to his snack. It’s not unlike how they always lived—they’re twins.
Once upon a time, he and Felix shared everything. They shared blankets, naps, toys, hugs. Jisung remembers giving Felix some of his strawberries during their lunch breaks, knowing they were her favorite fruit during second grade. In middle school, Felix took on the bullies that picked on Jisung. She’d yell at them to leave him alone, and they’d make fun of him even more for hiding behind his sister. He begged her to stop, but she said someone had to stand up to them if he wouldn’t do it himself.
Even if they’ve moved out from their parents, they’ll come home and have to share the same room, the same toilet, the same shower. This holiday, Felix started taking Jisung’s shampoo and body wash. She smells like him every time she’s steps out of the shower, and he wonders why she didn’t bother picking up her own if she forgot hers at her dorm.
They’ll always share the same dark hair that circles the drain and sheds onto their rugs; the same brown eyes from the same parents. And now, they share the same friend circles, even Hyunjin in a way—Felix’s roommate, Jisung’s girlfriend. Maybe they could never get away from each other if they tried any harder.
He can’t ignore the way she loudly licks the tip of each finger and uses his shoulder as a napkin, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Even with it being his favorite graphic tee, he doesn’t loudly protest, too exhausted to make a scene. Instead, he looks over to see their parents creased with laughter on the other side of the room, and he desperately tries to not scratch at the place on his shoulder Felix soiled with her touch. He knows Felix only does this to get a rise out of him. Instead, he leaves the empty snack bowl on the coffee table for her to take to the kitchen.
He turns into bed early, taking a brisk shower and a quick good night call with Hyunjin on his bed. She mentions a New Years Eve party at Seungmin’s, and he promises to see her before that. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep, succumbing to the exhaustion from gimjang clean up duty, which his mother dutifully left to him and his dad. It was only fair—she and Felix set up most of the preparation.
But what Jisung doesn't account for is how lightly he sleeps tonight. Usually he sleeps like the dead, notoriously has slept through fire alarms, but this time he hears Felix’s tepid steps around the room in the dark.
He doesn't stir as he hears her strip her clothes, tosses each piece into their shared hamper. He seals his eyes shut as he hears the quiet squeak of her settling onto her bed, the rustle of her duvet being pulled over her, a long sigh as her hair brushes against her pillow.
There’s a lull in the silence, where Jisung should Jisung feels his heart stutter, his ears attuned to every little sound in the house. He thinks at first he hears Felix sniffle, sigh—crying?
Jisung turns onto his side, sliding his knee up to rest half onto his belly. He opens his eyes, just barely, and allows for them to adjust to the dark. Felix makes another choked sound, her mouth muffled into her pillow. Jisung can see the outline of her, laid out on her front, her oversized shirt bunched up around her waist. His eyes trail further down her body, the moonlight filtering in from the gauzy curtains illuminates the skin of her bare ass with a hint of blue so mesmerizing. Her panties are rolled down her thighs, the elastic digging into them just like the socks from the first day she walked into the room for break.
Jisung holds his breath the moment he realizes she’s touching herself, her arm tucked between her torso and the bed, her fingers reaching between her legs, her duvet mostly pushed off to the side against the wall with her line up of plushies. Jisung has to bite his lip to not curse, knows he should shut his barely open eyes and try to sleep it off, but how could he?
His chest rattles, the shame and curiosity biting into him—she gets off like that? Belly down biting at her pillow? He wonders if she’s used to taking it from behind, watches that way she hitches her hips up just so and stills with a high whimper. He hears her fingers plunge into her with a loud squelch, sees the way her arm jostles roughly, her knee sliding up the mattress to angle herself where it—
“Fuck.” She draws out the word like it’s made of endless syllables, so quietly, and Jisung waits to hear for it to end. Felix pulls her fingers out, hears her pat against her wet, sticky lips, her eyes pinched closed as her mouth opens as she grinds against the flat of her hand.
Jisung’s paralyzed, feels his own dick stir under his shorts. He wishes he didn’t feel so exposed, wishes he was buried under his duvet, shielded from the elements of watching his sister masturbate and turning him on. At least it’s covering his waist, she’d never notice he’s at half mast on the other side of the room.
She must be close; her breaths quicken, her movements get jerky, and Jisung is fascinated by the string of drool pooling from the corner of her mouth onto the pillow. It glimmers in the moonlight, and the crease in her forehead softens, her eyes blink open as her legs clamp together.
Felix sheds a small tear, a desperate moan she doesn’t even try to hide against the pillow this time echoes off the walls as he watches her hips stutter. Felix hums another moan as her leg bounces her foot against the bed, her panties rolling down to the backs of her knees.
“Marco,” she whispers, and Jisung feels like he’s been plunged into the arctic. He’s hearing things, until he’s not—
“Marco,” she says again, a little louder, and he realizes his eyes are far more open than he intended them to be. He’s supposed be asleep, but he’s not sure how he’ll ever be able to again.
Jisung “wakes up” Christmas morning with a throbbing headache. Unbearable, like he was hit by a truck, the truck backed up, and then rolled over him again a few more times, leaving him for the birds. His liver getting pecked by a wake of vultures sounds more enchanting than whatever’s going on in his skull.
A soft, fluffy object hits the side of his head, bouncing off it and landing onto the rug next to his bed with a soft thud.
“Jisung.” The voice is tight, smug. It’s Felix. “You can’t sleep all day.”
He wishes he could sleep all day, considering he hardly got a wink through the night. “Waking up” is a generous description of whatever state of idle rest his body failed to slip into, and when the sun started rising, he knew he was fucked.
Jisung’s convinced he actually experienced a lucid dream and not that he actually watched his twin get off on the other side of the bedroom. Not only did Felix allegedly masturbate, but she did it with the intention of being caught.
Did Felix do it to break even? After walking in on him and Hyunjin the other day?
But she—she came. Looking right at him. There’s no way his eyes were open. The kimchi must have been tainted or something.
“Nnnn.” He angrily twists deeper under his covers, the duvet shielding him from the abundance of morning light pouring through the window. He turns toward his mountain of plushies, cuddling the penguin like an anchor.
He feels the bed dip, the weight and warmth of Felix pressing against his hip through the covering. Her hand is gentle, petting his back up and down, just like how their mother used to wake him up the mornings of his baseball games.
“Come on,” she says, voice cracking. It makes him shiver. “Eomma made us streaky bacon. And—and a quiche.”
Christmastime is full of special treats. Jisung’s mouth waters imagining his first bite into his mother’s homemade flaky crust, the diced onions and peppers in the fluffy egg.
He surrenders, rolling onto his back, pushing his duvet away, exposing his bare shoulders. Thankfully the room isn’t cold at all, but he misses the stifling heat under the covers. He blinks his eyes open, rubbing the crust from the corners.
Felix looks well rested, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, freckles on full display. He feels a pang of envy, how beautiful she looks without even trying. She lives up to being the prettier twin.
Her hand curls around the edge of his duvet, pulling it down from his neck. He didn’t go to sleep with a shirt on, usually doesn’t, and he watches her stare him down. It makes him shy, his cheeks burning like he’s naked in front of her all over again.
The tips of her fingernails brush at the center of his chest, right between his pecs. He has to resist that ticklish sensation—he never grew out of it.
“Appa’s gonna eat it all if you don’t get up.”
His stomach grumbles, but it hardly registers as he wakes up more. Beneath his itch of anxiety, there’s an undercurrent of shame—that he’s seen someone other than his girlfriend touch themselves, and it wasn’t even through a porno tape. Oh, and the fact it was his own fucking twin.
Now this. Whatever this is—her acting gentle and sweet with him. It’s the kindest she’s been without anyone else around in a long while. Last time she did—oh, he wants to throw up.
“Shoot me instead.” He flings an arm over his eyes, groans, and Felix yanks it away.
“No, no, no!” She hops up from the bed and yanks at his duvet, tossing it onto the floor.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Jisung whines, turning back into this oversized penguin.
Felix mounts him, her knees bracketing his torso, her hands pushing onto his shoulders to shake him. “Get up!”
Jisung isn’t even thinking, wraps an arm around her lower back, knocking her leg out to wrap his own around her hip and flips them—Felix landing softly onto his pillow with an oof, her eyes wide, smile slipping as her laughter fades. His thigh is pressed up between her legs, his morning wood against hers, and it’s impossible to ignore the weight of his bladder waking up as she squirms beneath him.
What a grave mistake this is, his hand planted onto the bed by her shoulder, holding himself up just far enough away to study the way her dark hair lays out on his pillow, the way her eyes glaze over and look down at his lips. Felix tucks her lower lip between her teeth, hand cupping the side of Jisung’s face, brushing at the stubble he needs to shave off. She looks coy, remains silent, waiting, wanting, her breathing picking up—
“Ugh,” Jisung tuts, pushing himself upright, untangling them and slipping off the bed. He’s surprised she gave up so easily. They used to wrestle each other all the time at home growing up. She was better, stronger than she looked, advancing through taekwondo much faster than him. It’s why Jisung ended up sticking with baseball.
Jisung mindlessly dusts off his torso. “Felix, please.”
He ignores the disappointment on her face, and the fact his mostly hard dick is impossible to ignore in his shorts. He’ll take care of it in the bathroom soon enough.
Felix doesn’t stop staring at him on his bed, propping herself up onto her elbows, her legs spread wide in her festive green dress that slides up to the top of her thighs. Her tiny, socked feet flex a few times, and Jisung has to look away from yet another entirely inappropriate situation.
“Now you get up. Off.” He’s curt, hand waving for her to get off his bed. She pouts, briefly defiant like a naughty kitten, and it makes Jisung’s heart plummet to his knees. He jerks his head toward the door one more time; someone has to set boundaries. “Come on.”
She complies with a wicked groan, shimmying off the bed and walks past him. She doesn’t look back, just keeps her head down through the doorway and down the hallway.
Christmas dinner with the entire extended family isn’t any better.
Felix doesn’t say anything about this morning, or last night, or all of the other times she’s been weirdly touchy with him the past week. And tonight, she can’t seem to keep her hands off him. Jisung tries to shrug her off, hoping to God he isn’t too obvious about it in front of their family.
“You two really are the cutest,” their auntie says, pinching Jisung’s cheek between her thumb and knuckle. It hurts, but he laughs through it all with Felix squished between his hip and the armchair of the couch.
There’s so much room on the other side of him since their uncle got up for a cigarette break on the balcony, but Felix anchored herself to him. She’s practically in his lap, her arm thrown around his shoulders, head tucked onto his neck.
Auntie lets go of his cheek, and it throbs a little as he covertly tries to rub away the soreness. He’ll live.
“It’s nice to see you’re still attached to the hip.”
Nice isn’t exactly how Jisung would put it. Especially when he’s spent the last twenty minutes trying to focus on anything other than Felix trying to melt into him. He downs the second half of his wine glass, pinching the stem and feels his head spin. The room feels hotter than a summer’s day, but maybe it’s all of the food, wine, his cable knit jumper, and at least a dozen family members crowded into a single room that has him feeling this way.
“Yes, imo—but I’m still prettier, aren’t I?” Felix takes the empty glass from his hand to place it on the side table and leans closer to rub her cheek against his shoulder. He gets a fresh whiff of her spicy perfume. It’s citrusy, like his body wash, and it smells so good on her.
Jisung pats at her leg slung over his thigh, makes sure her dress doesn’t slip up too much as they watch their younger cousins tear open gifts in the center of the room. The house is bedlam; children shrieking with excitement, adults guzzling wading through a small sea of shredded paper littered on the floor.
“No denying that,” Jisung chides, rolling his eyes.
Their auntie laughs with Felix before turning her attention back to the gift opening. One of their uncles comes over with a tray full of whisky glasses. Jisung takes two, the intention to hand one to Felix, but she takes her own, and his stomach flips when she gives a wink, clinking the lip of her glass against his.
“Drink up,” she says before they each take a sip. He tries not to laugh when her face sours, tongue lolling out like she just breathed fire. “Ugh, Jesus. How do you drink this shit?”
Jisung shrugs. He’s had enough wine that the whisky is a treat now—especially for a university student who regularly gets by on cheap beers and soju. This whisky, though? This is what grown men drink, even if his taste buds have been tampered by a million different things the last three days. He still hasn’t recovered from the soup from earlier.
“You can have mine.” Felix tips the rest of hers into his glass, like Jisung isn’t already double-fisting two.
“No, no—”
A bit of it trails down over he knuckles, and when she finishes pouring it, she licks it off with the flat of her tongue, and in typical Felix fashion wipes the rest of it on Jisung’s pant leg.
“Don’t let imobu see you leave that on the table,” Felix elbows him in the rib, and a little bit splashes onto his sweater.
“Gah, Felix!” He curses under his breath, pushing the glass to his lips to sip enough down so he doesn’t waste another drop. It burns, it burns so much to drink this quickly, and now he gets to make the silly fire-breathing noises. It makes his nose sting, his eyes water.
Felix cups the side of his face, thumb caressing the apple of his cheek.
“You know he loves sharing the expensive stuff,” Felix says, almost a whisper. He blinks away a few of the tears and sees her more clearly, her eyes wide, studying his face. His claw of anxiety anchors in his belly.
She pats his face harshly, making him slosh more of his drinks onto his sweater before hopping up from her seat with a giggle, smoothing the back of her dress down over her ass.
He can’t believe she’s getting away with wearing this at the family dinner—it barely covers her, even if she is wearing tights.
Maybe it’s a good thing he has all the extra whisky.
Maybe he’s the one at fault here, the anxious worry of noticing her panties showing—both hoping and hoping it doesn’t happen.
Maybe he’s reading into everything about Felix too much.
The perk of being 21 years old and a university athlete is that Jisung’s liquor tolerance is at peak performance. He finishes all of their uncle’s whisky, and he’s still able to stand up and walk to the car without being too obvious he’s sloshed.
His head’s full of cotton wool in the back seat of his father’s SUV, and he falls asleep on Felix’s shoulder as their mother drives them all home.
Felix pokes him awake, clicking his seatbelt off and leaving him to his own devices to slide out of the car and into the elevator. Everyone’s silent, their father carrying the bags of gifts, Felix and their mother touting boxes of leftover food. Jisung’s empty handed and leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, and he’s looking forward to all the homemade dishes for the next week.
“Poor Jisung,” their mother coos as the elevator doors open. “You’re exhausted.”
“Or drunk,” Felix whispers.
Jisung opens his eyes enough to scowl at her and pushes himself off the wall, swaying a bit before stabilizing himself. He wishes he could give her the finger, but instead he carefully walks himself out of the elevator and to their apartment.
They trudge through the front door, each of them slipping off their shoes and shedding their coats. Jisung bids goodnight to make his way down the hallway as Felix hands the food to their father so their parents can take it into the kitchen.
He flicks on the light in the bathroom and turns to close it, but Felix puts her hand on the door to stop him. She steps in next to him, hip-checking him to close the door.
“What?” Jisung is confused, and he’s starting to feel even more sober by the moment. He wants to get ready for bed, full well knowing he’s relaxed enough that he’ll knock out as soon as he hits the pillow. “I was here first.”
Felix plucks her toothbrush from the cup on the sink, wetting the bristles and coating with paste.
“And?” she raises a brow and begins aggressively brushing her teeth, spitting as she goes into the sink bowl.
Jisung sways, his bladder feeling heavy again. It’s not urgent by any means, but all he wants is to clean up and rest. He’s overstimulated by all of the family conversations, the excitement of unwrapping presents, and not to mention he had to get through this without sleeping much the night before. This Christmas day feels endless.
“Please, let me shower first,” Jisung says, reaching in front of Felix for his toothbrush.
Felix doesn’t answer, just spits into the sink again, rinsing the bristles and tapping it over the edge. The handle lands in the cup with a clink.
“I feel gross,” she says, grabbing her headband out of the medicine cabinet. She slips it on, cat ears poking up from the top of her head.
Jisung finishes brushing his teeth with a groan. “Come on, you take forever. I don’t wanna be up all night waiting for you.”
Their bathroom at their parent’s house is a luxury—a full bathtub, a sliding glass door and shower head. At university housing, Jisung has to endure using a wet room or the locker room for showers. He knows Felix and Hyunjin have their shower hose attached to their sink, and when Felix is home, she takes full advantage and spends ages in the shower.
Felix reaches underneath her dress and begins peeling off her black tights, leaving them a puddle in the rug, and Jisung’s heart starts to quicken.
“Felix,” he whines. It’s so unfair.
She reaches for the edge of her dress, crossing her arms and starts to pull it up. Jisung has to turn away, covers his face with his hand. He feels drunker than he did when he got in the car, his cheeks aflame.
“God, you’re such a bitch.”
“Why?” Felix taps his waist to push him to the side. He still can’t look at her, hears her slide open the shower to turn the water on. “Just get in.”
“Are you crazy?” He drops his hand away to look at his feet, and he watches her black lace bra fall at his feet, followed by her matching panties. His groin aches, he’s going to throw up.
“But we used to bathe all the time together.” She says it so matter-of-factly, a nonchalance that makes Jisung shiver. She isn’t wrong, but that was when they were children, before puberty, before—before—
He swallows the lump forming in his throat and dares to look up, dares to see her looking right at him from over her bare shoulder, naked with her hair pulled into a loose bun. Her eyes are dark, alluring, and Jisung hopes to god she doesn’t turn around.
“Lix.” Jisung sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “It’s—it’s weird.”
Felix tilts her head to the side. The steam from the shower is already fogging the glass of the shower door, humidity inching its way to cake the mirror over the sink.
“It’s not weird,” she says, hand on the shower door. “You’re the one making this weird.”
She steps into the shower, her body cloaked in the clouds of steam. She closes the door behind her, and he can see the silhouette of her pale skin, her hands reaching for his shower gel, lathering it between her hands.
Jisung closes his eyes and says a quick prayer. Felix is only his sister, it’s only a shower—
He pulls his sweater up and over his head and onto the rug, strips from his shirt, his trousers, his socks. His thumbs hesitate to pull down his boxers as he sways, steadying himself against the sink, then sheds those, too. Jisung’s hand shakes for a moment, hovering over the handle and pulls the sliding glass open.
Felix doesn’t turn around still, stays facing the shower head and rubs at her face with soap.
She’s so petite; soft yet small, even if they are the same height. Her hips are narrow but her waist makes the curve of them beautiful for her stature, her small rump smooth and plump. His soft cock rubs against his thigh, and he feels a prickle of arousal and shame—looking at her from behind is his worst nightmare.
He forgets who she is for a split second before she turns around, moving aside to push him under the water. He turns his back to the water to keep looking at her—mostly his attention on her face than the dusky pink nipples pointing straight out at him.
Jisung’s breath catches, his eyes wandering, drinking in the sight of her tits. They’re perfectly proportional to the rest of her—small handfuls, little swells high on her chest, barely a crease under them. His gaze drifts, following the droplets of water trickling down her torso, over her belly button and between her thighs. She has some hair on the mound, and it’s clear she shaves it—some of the areas a little patchy and growing in near her bikini line.
He takes it all back—looking at her face to face with the lights on is even worse. So much worse when he notices her not even being subtle about looking down at his dick. Thank god he’s still soft. He needs to save cleaning that for last.
She reaches around him for the body wash with a half smile, and Jisung tries not to jump when her nipples brush against his skin.
“See?” she hums, and he notices a small bit of water soaked into the cat ear on her headband. “It’s not so bad.”
He feels like she’s about to light a match around kerosene, but instead she squirts a handful of gel into her hand and offers him the bottle. He takes it without a word, pours some into his own, watches her lather the soap over her body, in careful circles up and down her torso, under her arms, her eyes closed, lips parted. There’s no way she isn’t doing this on purpose to fuck with him.
Jisung should bolt out of there, but instead turns to face the water to stop looking at her, knows it’s stupid since the soap he poured into his hand is going to wash off right away.
“You want me to get your back?”
Before he can answer, he feels Felix rub between his shoulder and neck, and Jisung fails to resist her touch with an involuntary moan. Immediately embarrassed by his reaction, he shies away from her hand.
“Oh, you’re so tense.”
Obviously. He’s taking a shower with his adult sister. Who happens to be really fucking hot. He should have kept drinking.
She reaches around him for the soap, feels her press up against his back, and he wants to cry, scream. His palms itch.
“Felix,” Jisung murmurs as she squirts a line of soap along his shoulders and starts rubbing it along his back. He clears his throat, wonders if she even heard him over the sound of the water hitting the floor of the tub. “Felix….”
Her hands rub at the knots on his shoulders, and he wishes it didn’t feel so good. The anxious ball in his throat hopes they aren’t making too much noise for their parents to hear them, to realize at least one of them isn’t in their room. But they’re probably just as worn out as he feels, already in bed and none the wiser about what their children are up to on the other side of the house.
Felix places a hand to his flank and Jisung squirms away from the tickling sensation. He turns around, shoulders hunched forward, his stomach fluttering when she looks right back at him with wide eyes, blinking, her breathing so clearly labored. Was this making her as crazy as him?
He sighs, hand swiping at his face. “This feels wrong.”
Felix shakes her head, resting her hand on his upper arm, her thumb digging into the bicep with a gentle squeeze. “It’s not.”
Jisung whimpers, his chest caving open. “It should be.”
He wonders if she can read his face—if their sibling intuition never really left her, if she can read his mind. He sure as hell can’t read hers—or maybe he’s in denial that the way she’s looking at him means exactly what he doesn’t want it to.
Felix slips her arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug he’s hesitant to return. He wonders if she can feel his heart threatening to hammer out of his skin with her cheek pressed up against it. She pulls him in tighter, her wet body flushed against him, and he hugs her back, one hand cradling her neck, the other around her middle.
“What do you want?” he says, lips pressing against her hairline. “Why are you doing this to me?”
She traces the tips of her fingers up and down his spine, the hot water spraying over his shoulders. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until she finally lets go, stepping away to make space between them. It’s so cold now, even with the scalding hot water beating on his back. His dick is mostly hard now, and he curses under his breath. There’s no use in hiding it, and he feels a headache start to grip at the back of his skull.
“I’m sorry.” He sounds so pathetic, and even he doesn’t know if he means it—if the sorry is more for him, for her. For Hyunjin. For their family.
Felix shakes her head, and it makes Jisung’s chest ache. She runs her hands up her thighs, her hips, her torso, cupping her tits, and Jisung can’t look away at the way she pinches her nipples, the gasp that slips out of her mouth.
She raises her chin, one hand slipping down between her barely parted legs as she rocks her hips forward. Jisung can’t look away, leans into a pang of confusing arousal erupt as he wraps his hand around his cock, his fist mostly playing with the head, letting it fill up all the way before jerking at the shaft.
“Yes,” Felix moans, her hand moving in tighter circles over her mound. “Yeah—”
He wishes he could see her clit, wonders how pink and swollen it is—has she been aroused this whole time? Maybe before they got in the shower?
Jisung shuts his mind off, just focuses on the sensations, the delicious grip the shower is giving him. He hasn’t done this in the shower for ages, hasn’t needed to. Felix sounds so pretty, looks even prettier when she props her leg up on the edge of the tub to bury two fingers inside of herself, throwing her head back with a hand over her mouth to keep quiet.
It’s not wrong—there’s nothing wrong if she thinks it’s okay, if she initiated it—it’s not like they’ll tell anyone about it. This is their secret, their cross to bear.
Felix comes, her high pitched whine muffled against the back of her hand, her eyes blown wide looking straight at Jisung. It’s even more heavenly than watching her in the dark from the other side of the room. She keeps moving her hand over her clit, doesn’t stop as she shakes through it, chest heaving to catch her breath, and she pinches her eyes closed as she comes a second time.
It sets Jisung over the edge, his orgasm cresting so suddenly, it makes him light headed. The first of his release lands on Felix’s foot, the next striping up her torso, a trail dripping into her belly button and onto the back of her wrist. He paints her one more time and moans, his grip squeezing around the sensitive head with a whimper.
The clarity hits him like a freight train, what they’ve done, the water on his back starting to turn cold. It doesn’t feel like a resolution, or a fever dream he can ignore and walk away from. The guilt gnaws at him—it still feels wrong.
Felix looks a little drunk now herself, her hands scraping away at his thick, cloudy release to cradle in the palms of her hands. She holds them out between them, like an offering, to go along with her pruned fingertips.
“Shit,” is all he can say, fingers raking through his hair.
He doesn’t know how he’s going to sleep in their room ever again.