The scent of miso soup and grilled salmon filled the kitchen. Mikan stood at the stove, her movements precise and rhythmic. She stirred the pot, checked the fish, and set out the bowls, all with the practiced efficiency of someone who had been running a household since elementary school.
But her mind wasn't on the food. It was on the bath. The steam. The way Rito had touched her shoulder. The way he had looked at her when he said, "Just yours."
"Morning, Mikan."
The voice came from right behind her.
Mikan flinched, nearly dropping the ladle. Before she could turn around, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid, warm chest.
"Rito!" she squeaked. "I'm cooking! It's dangerous!"
"I know," Rito murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. His breath was warm against her ear. "But you looked so cute standing here."
He didn't let go. He held her there, trapped gently between his body and the counter. Mikan could feel the hard muscle of his chest pressing into her back, the strength in his arms that encircled her so easily.
"You smell good," Rito whispered, inhaling deeply near her neck. "Like vanilla and home."
Mikan's face burned. "I smell like miso soup, idiot."
"No," Rito insisted, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. "You smell like Mikan."
He kissed her again, just below her ear. Then again, on her cheek.
Chu. Chu.
It was a bombardment. Every kiss was soft, affectionate, and possessive.
"R-Rito... stop..." Mikan mumbled, but she didn't try to break his grip. She leaned back into him slightly, her hands resting on his forearms.
"I can't," Rito said honestly. "I want to be close to you. I want to make up for all the mornings I just sat at the table and waited for food."
He squeezed her waist gently.
"You work so hard for us," he whispered. "Let me take care of you today."
Mikan's heart fluttered. The resentment that had built up over weeks, the feeling of being a servant while the "wives" got the affection, was dissolving under his touch. He wasn't ignoring her. He was overwhelming her.
"The... the fish is going to burn…" Mikan whispered weakly.
Rito chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back. "Then let's eat. But today... we're doing it my way."
He released her, but only to take the spatula from her hand. He turned off the stove. He plated the food.
"Sit down, Mikan," he ordered gently, pulling out a chair.
Mikan blinked. "But... I serve—"
"Not today," Rito said, setting the bowl in front of her. He sat down, not across from her, but in the chair right next to her, dragging it so close their thighs touched.
"Today," Rito said, picking up his chopsticks and picking up a piece of perfectly grilled salmon. He held it up to her mouth. "I will serve you. Say 'aah'."
Mikan stared at the fish, then at Rito's determined, loving eyes. Her face turned a shade of red that matched Lala's hair.
"This is... embarrassing," she muttered.
"It's tasty," Rito corrected, smiling. "Come on. For me?"
Mikan opened her mouth.
…
Mikan parted her lips, her face burning. Rito gently placed the piece of salmon on her tongue.
She chewed slowly, avoiding his gaze. It tasted... better than usual. Maybe because she hadn't had to serve it. Maybe because Rito was watching her with such intense, focused warmth.
"Good?" he asked.
"It's... fine," she mumbled, swallowing. "But... isn't Lala-san coming down? She usually smells breakfast from the attic."
Rito shook his head, a small, sheepish smile touching his lips. "Not today. It's Saturday, so there's no school. And... she's pretty tired from last night."
Mikan froze. The image of the previous night, the sounds she hadn't heard because she was asleep, but could easily imagine, flashed through her mind. Lala, the alien princess with infinite energy, was sleeping in because Rito had worn her out.
"Oh," Mikan whispered. She looked at Rito, at his arms, his chest, the calm energy radiating from him. 'He's a monster.' she thought, a shiver running down her spine that had nothing to do with fear.
"So, it's just us," Rito said softly.
He set his chopsticks down. "And this chair is uncomfortable."
Before Mikan could ask what he meant, he grabbed her by the waist again. He pulled her sideways.
"Rito?!"
He sat down on her chair, the sturdy wooden one at the head of the table, and pulled her down onto his lap.
"There," Rito exhaled, wrapping his arms around her waist, locking her in place. "Much better. Now I can reach the food and hold you."
Mikan sat stiffly on his thighs. Her bottom was pressed against his lap, her legs dangling over his. "Rito... this is... people sit on chairs, not brothers… siblings don't sit like this."
"I'm just being a good big brother," Rito whispered into her hair, his voice low and possessive. "I realized I haven't spoiled you enough. So now, I'm going to spoil you until you can't think about anything else but me."
He picked up the chopsticks again, picking up a piece of tamagoyaki. "Open."
Mikan opened her mouth automatically. As she chewed, she felt her body relaxing, melting into his warmth. It felt... safe. It felt possessive.
And then, she felt the change.
It started as a twitch against her thigh. Then, a hardening. A swelling.
Within seconds, the relaxed lap she was sitting on transformed. A solid, rock-hard ridge expanded beneath her buttocks, pressing insistently against the soft flesh of her bottom through her skirt.
The 9-inch reality of Rito's honesty was back, fully awake and demanding attention.
Mikan gasped, her hands gripping his forearm. "Rito... you're..."
"Yeah," Rito admitted, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. He didn't shift away. He pressed upward slightly, settling his erection firmly between her cheeks. "Holding you... smelling you... feeding you… trying to be a good brother. I can't help it, Mikan. My body just... reacts to you."
Mikan's face was crimson, but she didn't jump up. She didn't run.
She remembered the bath. She remembered the power she had felt touching him underwater.
Slowly, deliberately, she shifted her weight. She ground her bottom down, dragging herself along the length of the hard shaft beneath her.
Rito hissed, dropping the chopsticks. "Mikan..."
"Does it bother you?" she whispered, leaning back against his chest, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
"It drives me crazy," Rito groaned, his arms tightening, crushing her against him. "Keep doing it."
…
The breakfast dishes sat abandoned on the table.
Rito had moved them to the living room sofa. He sat in the corner, legs spread comfortably, with Mikan settled firmly between them, her back resting against his chest. The television was on, playing a morning variety show at low volume, but neither of them was watching.
Rito's arms were wrapped around her waist, his hands resting flat on her stomach, thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of her shirt.
"Comfortable?" Rito murmured, nuzzling the top of her head.
"Mmm," Mikan hummed, her eyes half-closed. She felt heavy, lethargic in the best possible way. The tension that had knotted her shoulders for weeks was gone, melted away by his body heat.
Beneath her, the hard ridge of his erection hadn't softened. If anything, it felt more prominent now, a constant, throbbing reminder of his honest reaction to her presence. She shifted her hips slightly, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate friction that made Rito's breath hitch.
"Mikan..." he warned, his voice tight.
"You said you wanted to spoil me," she whispered, tilting her head back to look at him upside down. "Is this... part of it?"
Rito looked down at her face. Her lips were parted, pink and inviting. Her eyes were hazy with a mixture of sleepiness and arousal. She looked trustful. She looked... like she was waiting.
"Yeah," Rito whispered. "Whatever you want is part of it."
He shifted one hand from her stomach, sliding it up to cup her cheek. He tilted her head further back.
"But I want something too," he admitted. "I want to kiss you. Not on the cheek. I want to kiss you properly."
Mikan's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. "Rito... that's..."
"I know," he said, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "But I can't help it. You're too cute. So please let me taste you, Mikan."
He didn't wait for a verbal answer. He saw the surrender in her eyes.
And so, he lowered his head.
Their lips met.
It wasn't the quick, surprised peck from the park. It was slow. Deliberate. Rito pressed his mouth over hers, molding their lips together. He tasted the faint sweetness of the tamagoyaki they had shared, and the underlying flavour of Mikan herself.
He licked her bottom lip, seeking entrance. Mikan gasped, her mouth opening instinctively.
Rito deepened the kiss. His tongue swept inside, hot and wet, tangling with hers.
"Mmph...!"
Mikan's hands flew up to grip his forearms. Her brain short-circuited. This was her brother. This was Rito. But the way he was kissing her, dominating her mouth, exploring every corner with a hunger that bordered on desperate, felt nothing like family. It felt like a lover claiming what was his.
He tasted intoxicating. The pheromones that rolled off him seemed to concentrate in his kiss, flooding her senses.
"Nnnh... Rito... haah..."
She kissed him back. She couldn't stop herself. Her tongue moved tentatively against his, shy at first, then bolder. She chased his taste. She ground her bottom harder against his lap, the friction between her legs sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
Rito groaned into her mouth, his arms tightening, crushing her against him until there was no air left between them. He was drowning in her.
They broke apart, gasping for air, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips before snapping.
Mikan stared at him, her chest heaving, her lips swollen and glistening.
"You..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "You really are... a beast."
Rito smiled, a flush high on his cheeks but his eyes burning with affection. "Only because I love you so much. I can't hold back."
He leaned in and pecked her nose, then her forehead.
"Stay with me today," he said. "Forget about cleaning. Forget about everything else. Just stay here, on my lap."
Mikan rested her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. The guilt, the rules, the fear, they all seemed very far away. All that mattered was the heat, the scent, and the hard proof of his desire beneath her.
"Okay," she whispered, nestling closer to his warmth. "I'm not going anywhere."
*****
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