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“M-o-o-m! We just got here—tell Mal to knock it off!”
Zoya’s whining voice does what she intends it to: get under all their skin, enough so that Dad shoots her a look through the rearview mirror of the front seat. Alina catches it by accident and slinks down, aiding his line of sight toward her younger sister in the minivan’s back.
“Is that any way to speak to your brother?” Dad chastises, firm. Zoya’s mouth wrinkles. “Apologize. Now.”
She huffs. “But we’re not even at the cabin yet, it’s unfair—”
Dad’s hand collides with the dashboard just behind the steering wheel, startling everyone in the car. Mom, his passenger, finally whips around to join the disciplinary moment. She always allows Dad to deal with it first, perfunctory and expected as his doting wife, before jumping in when it’s clear they need to tag-team the situation. The disappointed glare she cuts toward the back row is one for the books and Alina, withering, slinks down further.
“Enough,” Mom barks. “Make amends with your brother or you’ll be locked in the bunk room for the rest of the day—without dinner.”
A thick silence permeates the air. Dad’s shoulders stay tight but Zoya huffs again, this time in resignation. “Sorry, Mal,” she mutters, tone limp. It’s quiet again before the snick of a zipper reaches Alina’s ears and soft suckling sounds echo through the car. Dad relaxes.
“Tatiana said Katerina was so nervous on their drive up she got sick in the car twice,” Mom says, demure, moving on. “The poor thing.”
Alina looks out the window. She doesn’t blame her cousin Kat one bit. Her first free summer was a hard pill to swallow. The only way she managed to not show trepidation for it in front of the family was by sneaking a baggie of joints her friend Marie back home sold her at the end of the previous school year. Keeping it a secret from everyone, especially Aleksander, was difficult. Something to take the edge off in preparation was a necessary evil, however.
“Katerina will be fine,” Dad waves this off, clicking on his turn signal. They aren’t too far from the settlement now. “She may be small but with Nikky and Vasily I’m certain she’s been prepped.”
Mom nods in agreement. “Of course. I’ll call their cabin once we arrive just to check.”
“Good, sweetheart.”
Mom blushes at the soft praise and wraps her fingers in Dad’s. Alina stares at their conjoined hands, blinking.
A gentle touch brushes her knee. Mom made her wear a sundress for the drive up, an expected custom for the older girls. Now that she’s three years past her first free summer she’ll have to fall in line.
Glancing over, she meets her twin brother’s eyes. He gives a confident smile, ignoring the pained garble Zoya gives as Mal predictably forces her to choke on his cock behind them.
“You look pretty,” he compliments. His tone indicates sincerity but her shoulders tense anyway, waiting for the inevitable shoe drop. The transactional affection he deals her way has an end goal, always.
When nothing more comes, she smiles back. “Thank you.”
His touch shifts and slides, palm encompassing the thick of her thigh. It’s warm, calloused, brought on by the hobby he picked up at the start of their junior year almost a year ago now. Dad had arguments at the ready at first about how playing guitar and aspiring to be a musician was a waste of time. No respectable son of mine will sully our good name like that. But Aleksander promised it was nothing more than something to do outside of programming—the actual career path he claimed he was interested in—and Mom and Dad let him be. They even paid for extra lessons after he secured an early scholarship to UCLA.
Too bad Alina knows him better than they do. Twins keep each other’s secrets, after all.
Mom glances back and spots Aleksander’s hand. Her lips tip up. “Have we made up, you two?”
Alina groans, wanting to roll her eyes but refusing to risk getting smacked across the cheek for it. “Yes, Mom. We’re fine. I wasn’t actually mad at him. He was just using the bathroom for too long.”
“Has to look her best, this one,” her twin hums, voice low.
Puberty hit him like a semi-truck right as they started high school. First it was the sudden deep voice one morning, full of fresh gravel. Then it was the length that only lengthened well into sophomore year. By the time they turned sixteen, Aleksander was a full seven inches taller than her. She pouted about it at first since, as twins, she assumed they would remain on even ground forever. She eventually acclimated. It was easier to accept his new height and breadth after he expertly manhandled her into position for his cock the first time.
“That’s because she’s a good girl,” Dad winks through the rearview mirror, setting her face aflame.
“Stop it, Daddy, I’m almost an adult.”
“Not yet, you aren’t.”
“Oh, hush,” Mom chuckles. “Let them pretend once in a while.”
The heat in her cheeks doesn’t dissipate as Aleksander holds back a guffaw at Mom’s throwaway comment. Pretending to be grown-up was their favorite type of play. If only she knew.
Mal’s use of Zoya’s mouth comes to a screeching halt as she pulls off of him and starts coughing, wiping at her disheveled hair and the sweat on her forehead. The youngest Starkov grunts in complaint. “You barely swallowed!”
“I did swallow, you fu—”
“Zoya.”
“But Da-a-a-ad! I did! It just went down the wrong pipe—”
Mal scoffs. “You used that excuse last time. Try again.”
As their siblings bicker and their parents do what they can to discipline from the front seat, Alina and Aleksander lock eyes again. His hand squeezes down, hard, on her thigh and her belly tightens. Through the windshield, a fork in the road sizzles closer. She knows when they take the left bend it’s only a matter of minutes until they reach their cabin.
And she is no longer her own.
“God,” Zoya mutters, yanking apart the fitted sheet in her hands with enough vigor it sends a breeze across her pinched face. “I don’t know how I’m gonna last this summer.”
“It’s only your second,” Alina replies, nodding, smoothing out her own bedding. “It gets easier every year, I promise.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to deal with Mal.”
“Sometimes I do.”
“Oh, please,” her little sister groans, punching a pillow to fluff it. “Sasha has so much claim on you you’re practically wearing a proverbial bite mark. You know Mal gave up trying to use you months ago.”
Alina keeps her gaze on her mattress, hoping her following words are even and unwavering. “It’s a twin th—”
“—thing. Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
Downstairs, male laughter rings across the wood-enclosed walls, bouncing around. Mom disappeared to the Lantsov cabin to bring Kat a bottle of Gatorade and her famous homemade soup to soothe the younger girl’s tummy. Auntiana said she puked a few more times since laying down earlier. A bad sign for the fact that she’s supposed to present for everyone tonight, especially Papa, after dinner.
“Dad asked me to hunt down Vanya,” Alina tries to make peace, pushing her now-empty suitcase under the bed with all her clothes hung and folded away. “Want to come with? If we have time we could stop by the vending machine, see if it’s filled yet.”
“Nah, I’m gonna shower,” Zoya says, yawning on an overhead stretch. “Mal fingered me while I blew him and I wanna wash it off.”
“Be back soon.”
Aleksander and Mal are hard at work in the living room with Dad setting up the electronics console so they can watch baseball all summer without worrying about satellite. Passing by toward the patio door, she sends a wave and a quick: “Going to grab Ivan!”
Dad grunts. “Quickly.”
Her twin turns his head, eyes narrowing. She understands the look, knows what it’s for, feels it in her bones, but she can’t defy a direct order from Dad. So she tosses one last bequeathing smile in his direction and clomps onto the deck under the sunshine. The cobblestone path that leads from their cabin’s backyard branches across the rest of the settlement camp, winding to the other houses and down to the lake. Peering toward it now, she makes out a few dotted figures on the dock, a couple of them blonde. With no one around, she finally rolls her eyes. Of course Nikolai and Vasily are already out at the water. She assumes the third is Fedyor then, along for the ride.
Her trek to the Kaminsky cabin isn’t a long one, but it still works her into a sweat. The drive was a few hours long so it’s well into the day, sun blistering in the sky toward the west, dusk not far off. There’s not a cloud in sight and she curses such a condition quietly as she ascends the stairs to knock on the door.
Ivan pulls it open without pomp or circumstance, leaving her hanging for no longer than a handful of seconds. Seeing his stoney face puts a smile on hers. “Uncle Vanya,” she greets. “Daddy wants your help getting the kayaks out of the shed.”
He gives an affirming noise. “One second.”
Alina waits as he slips on his shoes before they venture back to the Starkov cabin together. They make polite conversation about her upcoming senior year, where she plans to apply for college, what majors she’s interested in. The same droning topics she’s been forced to slog through with every family event now that high school is coming to a close. Last summer, Auntiana made her talk about it as her husband, Pyotr, tugged her shorts down during July Fourth fireworks. She never liked taking Uncle Pyo’s cock. Good thing Kat’s free this summer so he’ll get off her and Zoya’s backs, at least temporarily.
Ivan holds the back door open for her and she dips her head in gratitude, strolling inside with him in tow. Aleksander is coming from upstairs when they enter the living room, their eyes clashing again. The sight of their Uncle at her back has his jaw clenching.
“Ah, Vanya,” Dad says, warm. “Thanks for coming over.”
“‘Course.”
“Make use of our girl here while I finish up with the boys. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
Alina steadfastly avoids the darkened glare of her twin as Uncle Ivan slips a hand right at the curve of her waist, guiding her wordlessly to the couch only feet away. She bends over, bracing her hands on a cushion, and steels herself. Unbothered hands flip her dress up, fingers tug at her panties, drifting them to mid-thigh, then the snick of his zipper. A breath later and a cock probes at her ill-prepared entrance.
“Mal, check on Zo. She’s been showering an awful long time,” Dad requests.
She focuses on stilling her hips as Ivan inches in. He’s one of the better ones to handle since he isn’t rough, just straightforward and almost clinical. Doesn’t make her listen to him talk or create a game out of how badly he wants it to hurt. Just feeds his dick in slowly until she’s stretched enough to accommodate then pounds ‘til he comes. Simple. Easy.
“Do you think she’s touching herself?” Mal asks, amused but annoyed.
“Not for you to worry about. If she is, tell me and I’ll take care of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her younger brother stomps out of the room, climbing the stairs two at a time. Ivan slides up a single hand to grope at her breast, releasing a huffing breath at the weight of it. She knew the Uncles would react well to her increase in cup size since last summer.
Unintentionally, she adjusts her neck to throw hair out of her face as Ivan picks up his pace, catching Aleksander’s eye across the room. Heat boils in her tummy at the ire threaded into his forehead, the lock of his shoulders. It makes her want to touch her clit but she knows she’ll receive a spanking if she dares such a move.
“Sasha,” Daddy barks, claiming his attention. He reluctantly looks away, neck strained. “Come help. Need your big brain to figure out why the sound’s not working.”
Alongside Aleksander’s puberty sprout was her first free summer and the inevitable change in their dynamic, granting him what he didn’t have until then: accessibility. Dad got first claim, of course, but it was only right for her twin brother to snag the second. Before, it was understood what would be expected of her one day. A devotional daughter, a warm hole for the cocks of her autocratic family members. But she and Aleksander had a special bond, a twin thing, a friendship that felt more than sibling-like. They got on like a house on fire, raging war paths and crafting chaos just for the sake of it. As kids, their parents found it amusing. As teenagers, less so. By then it was time to grow out of such trivial, childish antics. Instead duty overrode desire.
And with that came an Aleksander she had never seen before.
Getting yanked into his room after a shower post-soccer practice. Forced to take his fingers during family movie night under the pretense of stretching her open. Being fed his cock as he worked on homework.
With puberty and accessibility and change came ownership, a side of him born from deciding she’s his and has been their whole life.
Watching her get fucked by another man charges that tether between them like a livewire. Seething and primordial.
“Birth control?” Ivan asks, palm clasped at her shoulder for leverage as he ruts into her harder, hips rolling.
Not a question for her to answer, so Dad does. “Lily and I vetoed it.”
“Pull out method?”
“What other method is there, prick?”
Her Uncle laughs and shifts pressure, creating an aching wound right near her cervix. She can’t help the slick easing his way, the thrum of her neglected clit. It’s rare she gets to come with an older family member and right now is no different. Ivan has no interest in aiding her pleasure, despite how wet and flushed she may be for it.
“Hurry up, Vanya,” Dad orders, groaning as he pushes to his feet, done with his task. “Shed’s not getting any closer.”
In as little as three more bruising thrusts, he tugs out and rests his cock on her tailbone, cum spitting to soak her lower back. She tries to stay parallel, not wanting it to pool closer to her dress and ruin it, but Ivan’s hand on her shoulder crowds her too close to the couch. Liquid seeps down the map of her spine and she feels it hit fabric. Fuck.
“Sorry,” Ivan says, noticing. “Didn’t mean to.”
She sniffs, adjusting her stiff elbows. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
He’s out of sight, but she feels more than hears him tuck himself away and head over to Daddy. The two brothers greet with a clapping hug before they get on some talk about golf. She should wait until they’re gone before wobbling to full height, since most of the men like to see the spoils of their efforts right after. The line of her cunt howls, played with as it was without prep. She knows the soreness will wear off come dinner time but the in-between 'til then is the worst part. The chances of having to take another cock so soon are high but most of the time she skates by without drawing attention. All she has to do is wait for the men, brothers included, to get the kayaks and she's in the clear to recover.
“Clean her up, Sasha. Lily picked out that dress on purpose. Take a turn, too. I saw you were itching for it.”
“Got it, Dad.”
“Able to take another one, honeybee?” Dad asks.
Alina’s eyes blow wide, ideas of composing herself flitting out the open back door. “Uhm, I—what about the kaya—”
“Talking back,” Ivan states, matter of fact. Shame burns across the flabbergast of her expression, realizing her error right as it drops. “Wouldn't expect that of her.”
Aleksander, at her back, agrees with grit laced through each word. “Neither would I.”
Suddenly, Dad’s there, grabbing the rope of her hair and yanking, angling her face toward the ceiling. Still bent over, ass out, panties down, it’s a demeaning position meant to smart. She’s been in worse but not for awhile. It’s common knowledge throughout the family that Alina was whipped into shape quicker than most of the other girls, so the disappointment etched into the brow of her father hurts.
When Aleksander came into his own through puberty, mauling into a larger form and gaining muscle, he started to resemble Dad far more. Broad shoulders and displacing demeanor, rough energy and angular jaw. Dark, silky hair and dark, observant eyes. Daddy’s gained the telltale salt-and-pepper that comes with age, but it doesn't make him any less handsome. Watching the transformation as his daughter and his twin was eye-opening in the sense that Alina had to accept a hard fact: she has a type.
“You don’t want to take your brother right now? Is that it?” Dad asks, dangerously low.
“No, I—I’m sorry, I misspoke—”
Footsteps coming in from outside cut her off. “Papa’s waiting for us all down by the picnic tables, plus the Crow crew just arrived—” Mom halts, taking in the scene before her. Tension swirls in the air as Alina doesn’t know what to do next, afraid of talking herself into a corner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Mom finishes. “What happened?”
“Alina found an attitude,” Dad declares.
She doesn’t argue. There’s no point.
“Didn’t want to take her brother after she took Vanya,” he continues, glaring into Alina’s eyes. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
“Alina,” Mom gasps, scandalized.
“I’m sorry, I—”
Dad smacks her across the mouth, once. Not enough to leave a mark but sharp enough to sting. She wants to die.
“You’ve said enough,” he grunts. “If Papa’s calling us to the picnic tables, we don’t have time to correct your behavior. How do you think that made him feel, denying him what he is owed?” The question makes her squirm. Hot, embarrassed tears tickle her eyes. He glances up, connecting gazes with who she assumes is her twin, father and son agreeing on something without words. “You’ll publicly apologize to your brother and he will choose your punishment. Understood?”
Public apology. Punishment. Dread pierces her.
She nods.
“Good.” Dad releases her hair and her elbows drop, knees buckling. “Lily, go get Mal and Zo from upstairs. We’ll grab the kayaks tomorrow since we’re almost out of daylight.”
“Still want me to clean her up, Dad?” Aleksander asks, not giving Alina his eyes. She winces.
“No, we don’t have time. Leave her panties here and take her to the tables.”
Half of the family has gathered at the picnic tables by the time the Starkov clan rolls up, Alina trailing at the back in red-hot shame. The only guiding light for how the rest of the evening will go is the sight of Nina waving her down, a cheerful smile on her face.
Nina was gone all last summer in Europe. Uncle Kaz and his wife, Inej, let their children each take one trip overseas as a way to diversify their life perspective. Alina was jealous at the thought of this at first, but then she realized it meant there would be a lot to make up for due to so much time spent away. Nina is in for a hell of a summer.
Dad claims the picnic table right beside Papa’s, understandable for being the second oldest son. On the way there, Mom leads the girls to say hello to their grandfather, dropping sweet kisses on his scratchy cheek. During Zoya’s greeting, Papa grabs a handful of her ass without hesitation and, somehow, her sister manages to keep a neutral face. Zoya hates Papa.
As the reigning patriarch of the family, he’s had his fair share and then some. Luckily he likes them young, so Alina stopped being called upon by him midway through last summer. The way she saw it, he stopped liking her once her legs got too shapely and her face lost its roundness. So when she steps up to kiss him, he merely smiles and pats the space of her lower back. Thank God.
Aleksander carved a space for her right at his side when she approaches the picnic table, so she drops into it without a word, guilt and fear bubbling in the pit of her stomach. He still hasn’t looked at her since she accidentally backtalked and the cold shoulder of it is akin to stepping on Mal’s legos. She didn’t mean to. Sometimes when she isn’t thinking it’s easy to take the simpler road. To request rest before having her body bent to the will of another. Despite her training, instinct takes hold without intent.
This is something her twin knows about her. If they were alone and it happened, he would have put his mouth on her until she was ready to go again. But in front of their family? Openly rejecting him for the sake of her own comfort? The worst kind of disrespect. She earned punishment fair and square.
Applause breaks across the courtyard and Katerina comes walking up the path, blushing fiercely, with the rest of the Lantsovs at her back. Her blonde hair is in curled ringlets and her little mouth painted pink, smiling shyly at Papa. She presents to him tonight. Auntiana did a good job of instructing her to look at him and no one else leading up to it.
Nikolai takes a detour to their picnic table, smacking hands with Aleksander. His eye turns to Alina and he grins, wolfish and wide. “Lookin’ good, Leen.”
Her twin grunts. “Ass.”
“Gotta rile him up somehow,” their cousin laughs, reaching out to chuck her under the chin. Alina takes it, fluttering her lashes for effect. “I mean it though. You’re really growing into your own.”
Aleksander knocks Nik’s hand away. “Get outta here before I rip the tent you’re popping down myself.”
The blonde idiot walks away guffawing up a storm and Alina waits for her brother to look her way finally, at least in kinship. He doesn’t, regardless of how he warded Nikolai off. At least his anger hasn’t boiled to the point of letting others their age have at her.
Soon, most of the tables are filled, ready for dinner. Uncle Kaz and Inej were in charge of cooking for the first night, so a line forms to dish up sticky rice, fish in banana leaves, curry, laab, and the crowd-favorite pad thai. Alina, with punishment in mind, doesn’t stand to get a helping for herself. The courtyard is connected to the multipurpose cabin where game nights are held, as well as communal showers and lake rinse-offs. Overhead is a canopy of the thickest trees on the settlement, perfect to block out the setting sun so they may eat dinner peacefully.
When Aleksander returns, he drops the plate he made for her next to his own. Mom already poured them all tall glasses of lemonade, and the combination of everything has her mouth watering. They didn’t eat after unloading the car.
Once her family has seated, Mom and Dad dutiful at each end, Mal and Zoya wrestling for the sriracha, backdropped by the buzzing conversation of their relatives milling about to get food or catch up, she slides off her seat and to her knees at her twin’s feet.
Finally, finally, he looks down at her. If they were elsewhere, she would whimper in relief. Her body sparks to life at the gaze he levels her, a mixture of adoration, disappointment, lust.
“Sasha,” she starts, using his nickname to drive the atonement home, “I’m sorry for my disobedience and for undermining your rights. Please have me in whatever way you choose to correct my lapse in compliance.”
Dad hums from the opposite end. “Good apology, honeybee.”
The praise twists through her, straightening her spine and forcing her gaze to stay pinned to Aleksander’s.
It’s you and me, her twin whispered when they were about to enter her first free summer all those years ago. In the dark of his room back home under the poster she helped him hang up of his favorite band. His cock was clumsy then but so was she, in their youth. It always will be. Okay?
Now, he blinks down at her, glare muddling into sparkling want. “You’re forgiven. Ride me while I eat.”
He eases back to slot her enough room between his torso and the table’s edge. She hooks one leg over his lap to straddle him, but a firm tap at her hip has her head turning, confused on what she did wrong. He twirls that same finger to indicate he wants her the other way around, facing him. She acquiesces, adjusting so when she drops onto his hard cock blocked by denim, he rears forward to steal a filthy kiss off her lips.
“Easy,” Mom warns when his tongue wraps hers, “Papa won’t like too much of that.”
Aleksander listens, hearing the truth in her words, and backs away. Instead, he gets both arms around her to leverage against the table, letting her reach down to unbuckle his belt and lift to pull out his dick. With one hand she pushes the hem of her dress out of the way, still panty-less from her earlier transgression, and uses the other to spear him right at her entrance.
“Drop down,” he murmurs, nose bumping her forehead, “and take it. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
Nodding, secretive, her hips fall to encompass his girth. She quiets the moan that paints her tongue but he sees it all the same, arrogant smile glitching over his lips.
He’s the only one who makes her feel good from stretch alone.
The fucking twin thing, Zoya’s bratty voice mocks in her ear. She always was envious of the dynamic she’ll never understand or have.
With a single upward thrust, he bottoms out. Clicking into place, puzzle pieces worn down and cozy. Feeling him slide inside of her feels like coming home. Here, everything makes sense. Here, what she is and what she needs to be has purpose.
“Lilian!” a cheerful voice greets. Two smacking kisses sound against their mother’s cheeks as Aleksander swings an arm around her waist, urging her closer so he may grab his fork. “Kat loved the soup. She said it was exactly what she needed to prepare for Papa.”
Mom laughs, bright and loud. “I’m glad! She really is the sweetest girl. You and Pyo did a wonderful job.”
“I have to give some props to Nikky. He really watches out for her.”
Zoya audibly bristles, huffing.
Auntiana catches sight of Alina impaled on Aleksander’s cock and coos, “Just couldn’t wait, these two, huh?”
“Don’t you recognize a punishment when you see one, Tatiana?” Dad clucks, brotherly chastisement rising to the surface.
“Ah, I was mistaken. Surprised to see it coming from Alina.”
She starts a slow up-and-down that has him gripping at her with unbalanced control. At her ear, she catches the clink of metal against teeth, eating, letting her do all the work as penance. Tentative hands use his shoulders to bounce as best she can, head lolling when he sinks into the spot they discovered together during sophomore year. Her hips twitch and his arm around her tightens. The fabric of her dress runs tacky across her lower back where Uncle Vanya came earlier, a reminder of why she’s here in the first place.
“All is forgiven,” Dad continues. “Send that husband of yours over to our cabin later. Gonna watch the game on replay if he wants to join.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to, once Kat is down for the night. We’ll let you know!”
Auntiana walks away then, permitting Aleksander to start fucking up into Alina for real. He’s careful not to jostle the table so dinner remains undisturbed, a skill he developed as a way to not wake their parents with how often they like to fuck at home in bed. Although he has prior claim to his sister, Dad said long ago it’s selfish to use her more than others, especially at the settlement. Aleksander ignored this order from the beginning.
Her hand slips from where she holds up her dress, obscuring the viewpoint of his pistoning cock and her puffy cunt, so when she scrambles to right it he deals quick retribution by flicking the straps of her sundress off her shoulders. They fall so her breasts sway into sight, nipples peaked and dusky brown.
“Attaboy,” Dad approves. Alina keens when Aleksander hauls her closer still, face pressing into his neck with nowhere else to go. “Mal, stop touching your sister and eat your food.”
“What the fu—Aleks gets to—but I can’t—?”
“Hush,” Mom snaps. Alina rolls her hips down, catching her clit against his stomach on the stroke back up. Her vision blurs as she bites into his shoulder to keep from making noise. Sex is not for her pleasure, after all. From Dad’s vantage point, he’ll assume she’s just hiding her face out of shame. If he knew she was using teeth she’d get corner time like a preteen again. “You’ve been bothering her all day. You’re off of Zoya until this weekend.”
Zoya lets out a soft yes! as Mal complains vehemently, but it shudders away when Aleksander drops his fork to his empty plate, presumably finished. With the now-free hand, he drops it between their bodies, pretending to adjust his cock rucked up inside of her, but really—his thumb grinds dirty and hard at her clit, sparking the tips of her fingers, stuttering her rhythm off-course. His mouth presses to her ear, covered by the raucous laughter of the Lantsov clan one table over, the booming sound of Papa telling a story they’ve all heard a thousand times.
“When you come,” her twin orders, not a matter of if, “do it quietly. Okay? Then I’ll come and keep you plugged while you eat. Does that sound good? Hm?”
It was overnight, practically, that Aleksander got good at dirty talk. One day he was fumbling over words, uncertain on what to say to her, and the next a switch flipped. She then received promises of being made to suck his cock in front of all of his friends, those who don’t subscribe to their lifestyle, or be forced over his knee once a day just for the hell of it. The flush of heat that plagued her post-spankings from Mom or Dad was easy for anyone to notice, but he was the only one who liked to abuse it as a tease. Only that, though: a tease. The day Aleksander finally spanks her will be the day she swears fidelity to him.
When she does come, it’s in the cradle of his body with his big hands on her hips, grinding her down hard against his cock, locked up near the end of her channel. She stays silent through it, teeth biting into tongue, all-too aware of Daddy at her back. To come on a man’s cock is a sin within itself, but to come on a man's cock in front of everyone? She’d be whipped and forced to fill all her holes as a horrifying example at the next dinner.
Good thing Aleksander likes when she orgasms, if not for the thrill of knowing he’s the only one who really knows how to get her there.
As promised, he comes, spurting deep inside, sticky and hot along her stuffed walls. His fingers at the top of her ass flex, neck rolling back on his shoulders in alpha-male satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he huffs, mouth brushing over her sweating brow. “Fucking perfect.”
He feeds her, bite after bite, of food. Zoya and Mal fucked off minutes ago to chase little Wylan, Nina’s youngest brother, around the grassy patch closer to the trees. Although cold, dinner is delicious, and he finishes it by tipping water-y lemonade down her throat. Without preface, once in a while, her cunt clenches down on him and he stiffens, flashing a hot stare at her. Blinking innocently, he just bucks up a single time before settling back.
“All right,” Dad declares, clapping a hand on Aleksander’s shoulder. Alina wants to mewl, go for another round, but it might be considered outside the realm of punishment if they indulge. “Kat’s about to present. Hop off or turn her around so she can watch.”
Aleksander’s jaw pops but he nods. “I think she learned her lesson.”
“Agreed. Good job, son.”
Alina stumbles to her feet, cock slipping out of her with a wet thwap, and before she can right the top of her sundress to conceal her tits once more, Dad reaches out and pinches a nipple quick-sharp. She doesn’t squeak, doesn’t react, just looks him in the face and smiles.
“Hope you readapt your docility for the rest of the summer,” Dad warns, pulling her close to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re better than what you showed me earlier.”
“I am, Daddy. Thank you for correcting me.”
“Anytime, honeybee. Now sit next to your brother and watch Kat become a woman.”
As their cousin strips herself of her little dress and bends over in front of Papa, proudly showing off her girl-parts in the way all of them do at the start of their first free summers, waiting for him to step forward and fill her cunt with a cock too big for someone his age, Aleksander slips a hand under her skirt and between her legs. Her knees part like butter to let him, happy to, so he may swirl two fingers across the syrupy mess of his seed dripping past her wet seam.
On the walk back to the cabin to let Papa have privacy with Kat over an hour later, Alina doesn’t wipe at what runs down her inner leg in absolution. It’s her fault for not being allowed panties.
She finds him sitting in one of the docked boats, staring up at the moon that’s twice as big as where they live in the city.
Summer nights still have a light chill to them, so she wore one of Aleksander’s hoodies she stole from his suitcase after dessert; it's emblazoned with his favorite band’s logo on the front and a song lyric on the back. She’s the only one who knows that after learning guitar he memorized every chord to every song in their catalog, as if ready to sub in if needed.
Plopping at his side, she looks at the stars too.
“Please tell me you have a joint,” he says, not whispering since it’s almost a guarantee the whole settlement is asleep. It’s well past one a.m., the only time of night they found they could be just the two of them outside of their family.
Alina cuts her eyes to him, narrowing. “What makes you think I have one?”
“Come on. You don’t really think you kept that a secret from me.”
Fuck.
She was saving it for herself to have on her solitary walk back to the cabin in a few hours, but she grumbles and reveals it from out of the hoodie’s big pocket, as well as the lighter she swiped from the kitchen drawer.
“Did you know about the ones I brought to get through my first summer?” she asks as he takes the first pull, blowing smoke straight up into the air.
He passes it to her, fingers brushing. “Of course. What kind of a brother do you take me for?”
“Damn. Thought I did a good job.”
“You did at first. I found them when I was snooping through your bag.”
She shoves at his shoulder after taking her first hit, letting the fog of it roll across her hindbrain. “Care to elaborate?”
Aleksander chuckles, throwing an arm up and out to rest behind her shoulders, casual and second-nature. It makes her pulse skip a beat. “Remember the time Vasily took you in front of all the cousins during Frisbee your first summer?”
Alina vaguely recalls it. There was the warm-sweet scent of grass in her nose, dirt stains on her knees, and little white shorts yanked to her calves. Once Papa had his fill of her and she was let loose on everyone else, the Lantsov boys made it a point to get to her as much as possible in an effort to piss Aleksander off. It worked, obviously, and she spent the whole two months bouncing between a bunch of lads with a new testosterone-filled streak for competition, all on top of being a fresh new hole for the older Uncles.
First free summers take a toll. Everybody knows that.
“Yeah,” she answers, crossing her legs.
“I was so mad at you.”
“But—”
“I know, I know, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was Nikky and Vas getting under my skin. But I was young and didn’t—didn’t know how to figure that shit out yet. So I decided to get back at you in some way and figured stealing something of yours would do the trick.”
Her brows furrow. “I don’t remember losing anything though.”
Aleksander shrugs, one hand tugging at a strand of hair that didn’t fit in her ponytail. “That’s because I found the joints before I found anything to steal. And I realized you were probably a bit fucked in the head over everything that was suddenly expected of you.” He gives a soft smile, plucking their shared stick out from between his teeth. “So I threw you a bone to be nice.”
Her eyes roll. He won’t hit her for it. He hits her for other things, when she wants it. “Yes, the nicest. Sasha is s-o-o-o nice. What ever would I do without—”
His mouth presses to hers and she accepts it with a muffled little moan. Easy, he tugs her into his body heat, propping one of her thighs across his lap.
“Shut up,” he murmurs, no malice.
“Okay.”
They burn through the joint in silence, listening to their own breathing and the quiet ripples of the lake. Crickets chirp and a few fireflies buzz in the distance. Beneath blood and bone, strands of atoms and molecules intertwine. Moments of solace are the hardest to find. Connecting with the one she was born beside helps when it’s tough to make sense of all that surrounds them. There, life; here, home.
“I want you to stake claim,” Alina says.
“I know.”
“Why haven’t you?”
An exhale leaves his nose, short and rough. “Dad said I can’t until we’ve graduated.”
Although he’s marked her for himself in all the ways that don’t matter, enough that every family member expects the inevitable, the way that does matter is something else entirely. To stake claim over the girl you want for yourself in the family, you have to wait for one of the fireside nights. After everyone’s been drinking, all loose and warm, you stand and make a declaration. Then you make her kneel before you and brutalize her mouth ‘til she’s choking and sobbing. If she manages to handle it—take it—she’s yours. If she fails, she’s not.
“That’s bullshit,” she snarls, curling a fist into his tee shirt. “David claimed Gen when they were sixteen.”
Two cousins they hadn’t seen at the settlement for years. Still a part of the family but at arm’s length, choosing to denounce parts of tradition. The last time she saw Genya was last Christmas, her belly round and full with their first child. They still haven’t told Papa. He’ll be angry to hear of offspring he won’t get rights to.
“I said the same thing. Dad said expectations have shifted.”
Alina groans. “Papa.”
“Papa,” her brother confirms.
So maybe he had heard after all.
“This sucks,” she states lamely, letting him take the last pull of their disintegrated joint.
Aleksander shrugs. “No one will stake before I do. And even if they do, everyone knows it won’t be serious. You could reject it or blatantly underperform.”
Just the thought of Nikolai and Vasily or Matthias—an older cousin who won’t show until halfway through the summer because of his sports team—getting on their feet and declaring their intentions with her has her mouth souring.
“I’ll bite their dick off.”
Her twin laughs, flicking the butt into the lake and forcing her onto her back. “There’s my girl.”
Transactional affection.
“Now,” he mutters, lifting his hoodie over her head. She didn’t wear a shirt underneath, so it leaves her bare other than her spandex shorts. “Do you want it soft or mean?”
The shoe drop.
Alina breathes out, pooling with slick before they’ve even begun. “Mean.”
They only talked one time about what their future plans are. Past graduation, past this family. UCLA seems to be the move for their next home, but what then? Will he still go down the programming path, what’s expected of him? Will she pursue her teaching degree, a respectable occupation for a Starkov woman? Will they return every summer, fresh-faced and freckled from the California sun to visit their relatives, to realign themselves with custom?
He fucks those worries right out of her troublesome little head. Planted on her knees on the boat’s bench, an arm hooked through both of hers to restrain them at her back, yanking her up and down his rigid cock. Mouth in a silent scream when his violence sloshes the boat in the water, a dangerous game.
“Fucking slut,” he growls at her ear, pinching her clit. “Rejecting me in front of Dad and Vanya for what, huh? To prove something? You’re already mine, no use putting on a pretty face like you don’t want it. Do you know how much that hurt, baby? To be denied access to my pussy even as she wept for me?”
“Sash—” Alina pants, on the edge, “Sasha—I’m sorry—”
“I know,” he tuts, dipping into the degradation she loves so much, smearing her in it. “It’s okay. You know who this cunt belongs to, don’t you? It’s not a secret. Soon, I’ll have your throat stuffed so full you won’t be able to breathe. In front of everyone, too. Won’t that be so nice? Choice taken away?”
“Y—yes,” she spits, crazed, wishing they were facing one another so they could kiss. But that’s too nice. That’s not mean.
“Good slut, such a good slut,” he groans, curling a hand around the front of her throat. “My little hole. My little—my girl—my—mine—”
He empties into her cunt a second time, driven there by the shit spilling from his own mouth. It makes her whine, despondent at not being tipped over herself, but he rights the wrong by rubbing at her clit with determined circles in the comedown.
“Love you so much, baby. Love you, fucking love you—”
Her head twists at an angle that stings just to get his mouth on hers, needing his air, tongue sloshing against his as her body bucks with orgasm. Without words, she tells him she loves him too. He knows it. They know it. It’s stitched into their skin, their veins. The DNA that they share.
Once she’s still, buzzing from the high and the peak, he drops back, cock falling away. He pulls her with him, arranging her across his lap, ass in the air. Her eyes pop. Oh, fuck.
“Apologize again,” he declares, landing an initial smack to her cheek. It hurts, worse than when Daddy uses his belt. She blames it on the orgasm still bruising her system. “So I know you mean it.”
Aleksander spanks her under moonlight, giving her what she wants. What she needs. He’s in tune with it all, anyway, not an inch of her closed to him. To them.
And tomorrow, she’ll wear his marks proudly. Maybe she’ll goad him into making one of them an actual bite, red and angry and outlined by teeth, right on her neck, before the night’s end.
Just for the hell of it.