"Frère, please, I'm scared."

In the woods behind his house, Montjoly Aleva, age 14, stands under a tree. The tree has one low branch snapped off. His hands are on his hips, and he is squinting upward, shuttering his eyes as best he can against the afternoon sun trickling through the leaves. "This is why you think before you climb," he teases, his tail flicking side-to-side with amusement.

The tree currently holds his sister, Cayen, clinging to a bough twelve feet off the ground, her trembling visible even to Montjoly. She clutches on in the way that only someone terrified for their safety can. The rough bark of the tree has pressed into her bare calves so long that she ceases to feel it. If she had a thought to spare, she might have regretted wearing shorts. That broken branch underneath her was her only safe passage back down, until it cracked under her weight. "I'll think later, but now I need to get down before I break my neck," she replies.

"You know that if mama finds out you will get a scolding for being so reckless."

"I don't care, I just want to be on the ground. Tell her if you want, just help, please."

Montjoly chuckles. "Easy, Cayen, I'll help you. ...On one condition."

"Anything!"

"You don't tell mama, and I get to spank you for it."

"Why do you want to —Fine, good, yes, just help!"

"Because you are not so discreet with your hairbrush. I think you like it." Montjoly grins. "I will be right back," he says, and turns to leave.

"Where are you going?!" Cayen yowls at him.

"To get a ladder," Montjoly calls over his shoulder.

He returns a moment later with a metal stepladder, and sets it up. "Can you reach?" He asks.

Cayen looks down at it, and anxious doubt is written all over her face. "I— I don't know, it's still high up."

"Try to hang down, I will keep the ladder steady."

Shakily, Cayen pries herself from the branch, and tries to align herself the right way. She slips down and hangs, and her feet flail, but eventually she finds the top of the stepladder, balancing on the balls of her feet. "N-now what, I don't want to fall!"

Montjoly thinks. "I'll move the ladder with you, until you can hold onto the trunk." Be careful." He shifts one side of the ladder over.

Cayen squeaks as she feels the ladder shift and shake, but with her hold on the branch and a great deal of care, she stays upright until the ladder reaches the trunk. She clutches onto the trunk as she takes a step, and then another, until she can grab the ladder and scamper the rest of the way down. Once there she immediately wraps her brother up in a tight hug. "Oh god, Montjoly, thank you, thank you—" 

Montjoly hugs back warmly. "I am glad you're safe, sister."

After a moment, Cayen pulls back. There are tears of relief in her eyes. "I... I was so afraid. That never happens to me, usually I'm good at knowing if I'm going to break a branch, but—" 

No more words come for a moment, and Montjoly steps in to fill in the gap. "—I understand. Nobody can be flawless."

Cayen takes a step back and looks at the ground, shaking out her legs to alleviate the residual pain of where the bark poked her calves. "So, I guess I should let you spank me now."

Montjoly laughs. "Oh, mon soeur, that was just a tease. I knew you would agree to anything I asked." He goes to fold up the ladder. "Come on, mama's serving lunch." He walks off toward the house.

Cayen pauses, opens her mouth to speak, thinks better of it, and then starts walking to the house. The prospect of being spanked by her brother left her with a strange feeling in her belly. She knew this feeling: It was the same as when he kissed her under the covers at night. As a result, that he was only joking about spanking her was somehow... disappointing.

---

In a wooded area near the lakeshore, Montjoly Aleva, age 24, stands under a tree. He has a phone to his ear and a metal stepladder under his arm, and a look of good-natured resignation. The parking lot near the beach was the closest spot he could find, and he's been patiently hauling the ladder through the ravine for the last ten minutes. "Where are — Ah." he says, spotting the glow he's looking for. 

He wakes up his phone's display, hangs up, and waves back at the other screen shaking at him from the darkness. The owner of that screen is about a dozen feet up a tree. "Hi, Montjoly!" Cayen says cheerfully from her perch, sounding like she's in no danger at all.

"Bonsoir," he returns. "What, pray tell, makes a respectable business entrepreneur climb up a tree and get stuck?" He looks at the low branch hanging by its bark against the trunk.

"I wanted to read up here."

"It's night."

"Read on my phone!" She waggles her phone at him again. "I also may be a little 'nippy."

"Uh-huh." Montjoly smirks. "So what stops me from leaving you up there to read until your battery runs dead?"

"The goodness of your heart," Cayen returns brightly. "And the fact that I'll do anything you ask once I'm down there."

Montjoly's eyebrows raise. "Anything."

Cayen grins at him. "Aaanything."

Montjoly shrugs nonchalantly. "As you wish." He sets up the ladder for her, aligning it as best he can, and using a light on his phone for illumination.

Cayen puts her phone in the pocket of her shorts, and carefully climbs down, aligning herself with the top step of the ladder. She wobbles a little, finds her centre, and then takes a slow and careful step down. She has more than enough flexibility and balance after this to bend low and hold onto the top of the ladder, and steps down to the ground. "There we are," she says, leaning in to give Montjoly a little kiss on the cheek. "Safe and sound."

"Yes." He breaks into a grin. "So about that 'anything'..."

Cayen takes a step back and puts her hands behind her back. "Mmhmm?" She asks with a little smirk.

Montjoly considers a moment. "Show me your pussy," he says.

Cayen blinks, and even in the dark Montjoly can see her blush. "—What, here? Now?"

"That is part of everything," he says. "Go on."

Cayen squirms, but doesn't look too offended by the request, and does as she's told; she looks around, then undoes the fly of her shorts, pulling them down a little with her panties to expose herself. The cool breeze going through feels oddly exhilarating against her warm flesh.  "...Happy?" She says, pulling them back up.

Montjoly laughs. "Oh no, you misunderstand me." He goes down on one knee. When I meant show, I meant—" And without hesitation, he pulls down Cayen's shorts to her calves. "This."

Cayen's face erupts with heat and she takes a hobbled step back, hands groping behind her for the tree. Montjoly gets up and follows her until her back is pressed up against the tree, her hands in front of her crotch and her head turned to the side. He pulls her hands away, and she lets him. "You did say anything, mon soeur," he says, coax her head forward with a curled knuckle, and leans in to kiss her, his fingers wriggling between her labia.

Cayen mewls into the kiss, quietly, trying not to draw attention to them despite this relatively secluded area. Her body quivers, and she wraps her arms around Montjoly's neck, kissing back with more need — and this is when he withdraws, keeping Cayen against the tree with a splayed palm against her upper chest. "—Montjoly, what—" she stammers, until she sees him getting down on his knees again, and then no more words come.

He wriggles his head in-between her legs, and Cayen's ears fold back upon hearing what Montjoly is doing, but the sound of Montjoly inhaling deeply through his nose is already rattling around her brain and blooming deep, pleasurable embarrassment in her belly. "You smell very sweet today," Montjoly remarks, before his tongue finds Cayen's labia to lap at them from bottom to top. "And you taste the same."

The sound that Cayen makes in response was meant to be a reply, but it only came out as a moan, and she hides her face behind her hands, utterly morified by her brother's remarks. That feeling is exacerbated by Montjoly's tongue, which feels to her like it's everywhere: flicking against her clit, teasing her entrance, the tip running against one side of her outer labia and then the other, and the flat going up each side of her inner labia, all somehow rapidly and agonizingly slowly at the same time. She whimpers and whines, and eventually her hands have to grab at Montjoly's head just to have something to hold onto.

Montjoly revels in the taste and feel and smell of Cayen's pussy, and his hands hold onto her hips, pulling himself in even more. His tongue lavishes attention everywhere he can, not to give Cayen pleasure, but to feel her under his tongue and to taste every part of her. He laps at her until he's had his fill, and then gets up, wiping his chin; Cayen's face emerges from behind her hands. "...Hey, what gives, I was getting close..."

Montjoly grins wide. "I wanted to make you come another way," he says, flipping up his tented skirt and getting out his cock, which had already poked its way out of the waistband of his panties. "Bend over."

Cayen bites her lip and complies, holding onto the ladder; she sticks her butt out, her tail raised, and Montjoly arranges himself, slipping his head between her labia. He teases her for a moment, then presses himself in, moaning softly as he feels her pussy split and wrap around him. He takes a moment to savour the feel of it, and then starts thrusting.

Cayen backs into Montjoly's cock, feeling the dull thud of his hips meeting her backside at the bottom of every stroke, and a soft moan escapes her —one that ramps up into a quiet squeal as Montjoly takes a handful of her hair and bends her head back. "Tell the truth, this is exactly what you wanted when you had me come for you, isn't it?"

"A-ah... you haven't come for me yet..." she says, her pussy gripping hard around Montjoly's cock for a few moments.

A breathy chuckle comes in response. "Touché," he murmurs, and grabs ahold of Cayen's hips. "Let me remedy that." He uses his grip on her hair and her hips to pull her into him while he thrusts, speeding up to quite a rapid pace.

Cayen speeds up her movements to match, and her back arches, the grip on the ladder tightening. "Aah, fuck..." she mewls, still quietly, though caring slightly less about the noise she's making; the rattling of the ladder is louder than either of them anyway.

She can feel her orgasm approaching, and there is no sign of Montjoly even slowing. "M-Montjoly..." she whines, and receives no response; her brother is too busy thrusting into her to reply, and the rhythmic, intense thrusting brings her over the edge a few moments later, clamping down hard as she squeaks with her orgasm.

Montjoly feels this and he doesn't even so much as slow down, thrusting into Cayen's tightly squeezing pussy, letting out a little grunt at the feel of it. His orgasm is far away, however, and he knows Cayen isn't done either.

Cayen's eyes go wide, the orgasmic pleasure transmuting from short and intense bursts into longer waves of pleasure. She has to clamp a hand over her mouth to avoid squealing loudly as she feels another orgasm hot on the heels of the first, and when it hits, her knees quake with the almost painful intensity of it, and still Montjoly doesn't stop, can't stop, much closer and working towards his own orgasm with a fervor.

Cayen is very nearly at her third orgasm when she feels Montjoly's breath, and his searing rhythm, hitch, and he thrusts in a few more erratic times as he comes inside her. A muffled mewl escapes Cayen's covered mouth, her body beginning to recognize that no more orgasms are about to come, and her deep arousal begins to morph into the satisfaction of afterglow. Montjoly, for his part, bends over slightly, letting go of Cayen's hair to hold himself up against the tree, feeling his cock twitch as the last of his cum spurts out of him.

They stay like that for a few moments, and both catch their breath, Montjoly's cock still buried inside Cayen. "Pull up your panties," Montjoly says after he recovers enough to withdraw.

"Nng, I can't with you still in me," Cayen replies.

"Just up to your thighs."

Cayen is confused by this, but she feels too good to care what Montjoly's goal is, and complies, bending low and pulling her panties up. Montjoly holds onto them and prepares, and Cayen realizes just as Montjoly does it what his idea was; he withdraws his cock and immediately pulls the panties up in time to catch all the cum dripping out of her.

She squirms, as she feels the squish of the wet fabric against her, and this is exacerbated by Montjoly rubbing his deflating cock against her backside, wiping it off on her. "There, you have a momento now."

"Nng, that's a lot. I'm going to make a mess of your car," she says, reaching down to pull up her shorts too.

"Who said you were getting into it?" He asks, playfully combing his fingers through her hair half to be a pest, and half to attempt in some vain way to make it look less like she'd just got herself fucked out in the woods.

Cayen ducks Montjoly's fingers and turns around. "You're not gonna drive me home?"

Montjoly smirks. "You don't need me to find your shop, do you?"

"I— no, I'm stoned, not drunk." She pouts. "It's not far, why can't you just drive me?"

"Because if I drive you, you wouldn't have to walk," he replies, reaching down to cup against Cayen's vulva and rub softly. Cayen squirms, as she feels the mess spread even further in her pants.

"Nngh, ass."

"Tsk, your anatomy is terrible. This is nowhere near your ass." He withdraws his fingers. "Come on, let's go to the car," he says, turning to fold up the ladder.

"—What?"

He looks over his shoulder. "I was teasing, mon soeur. I knew you would do anything I asked."

"...You know what, no."

Montjoly raises an eyebrow. "I want to walk."

He scoffs. "All that protest for nothing."

"No, I mean, I want to walk with you. Put the ladder in your car and we'll go."

"I'll have to come back." He says, and they begin walking back to the road.

"Like you said, it's not far. I'm sure a little walking won't hurt you."

He smirks. "Touché," he says, and they make it to the car in silence.

Ladder put away, Montjoly locks up his car again. "Lead away," he says, gesturing to the amber-lit sidewalk.

Cayen chuckles. "I'd say 'after you', but I'd have to wait until you got out a map." She starts walking, ignoring the laugh and the obscene gesture Montjoly gives her, and he falls into step beside her.

His hand snakes around her waist, and she looks at it for a moment. "Awfully public of you," she says, her own arm wrapping around his waist as well.

"It's late, there's nobody around, and..." he ducks his head, appearing bashful. "Regardless of the façade I construct, when I got a text message saying "I'm stuck up a tree", no amount of smiley faces were going to assuage my worries until you were back on the ground."

"Awww." Cayen gives Montjoly a little squeeze. "I wasn't in any danger, I could have dropped down."

"I know, I've seen what you can do," he replies. "I never said it was rational. Still. You're family. I wouldn't be a proper brother if I wasn't at least a little overprotective."

Cayen chuckles, and they walk for a while in the quiet of the deserted city street, simply enjoying its stillness. The experience of walking home at this time of night is far different than at noon, when people are walking, cars are driving, and the air seems to be infused with energy. Now, the city itself appears to have gone to bed, with only the yellow nightlights of the streetlamps witnessing the two felines' passage to the tea shop.

Cayen glances around for people in earshot, of which there are of course none, and decides to break the silence. "You know, it's amazing how much your gait changes with a load of cum in your panties."

Montjoly looks over with a little smirk. "You sound like it's not the first time you've done it."

"It's not," she replies with a grin, and he just shakes his head. "Don't look at me like that, it was on a break."

"So you're telling me you went on break, got yourself fucked in the back, and then with that mess in your skirt, went right back to serving food?"

"I was in my apartment, and I washed my hands first. Which I'd have had to do anyway, considering what they were doing."

"I— you know, I don't even think I care to ask," he replies.

She giggles in response. "Prude."

This provokes an even bigger laugh from him. "The same prude who came out in the middle of the night for the most obscure propositioning in history, stuck his tongue inside his sister, then his cock, and made her walk home looking, feeling, and smelling like she's been freshly fucked? That prude?"

Cayen blushes hot, but she can still grin and cheerfully reply "Yes."

Montjoly can only smirk incredulously, as they approach the shop. "Here we are," he says, and waits for Cayen to unlock the door.

"Thank you," she says sweetly, reaching in her pocket for her keys. "D'you want a tea or a pastry or something for the road?"

"No no, thank you," he says, and on a whim, takes Cayen's shoulder just as she's about to walk through the door.

She blinks, but stops, turning to face him; he leans in and lightly presses his lips to hers, and after a moment to process that he did so, she kisses him back, holding onto his waist.

They break the kiss after a few moments. "Bold," she says softly, her lips still close to his. "And awfully romantic for you."

"I'm in a mood," he says, and then promptly breaks it by ruffling Cayen's hair, making her duck back with a little how-dare-you-but-not-really grin. "Bonne nuit, mon soeur."

She looks at him for a moment, and her grin fades into something more like an affectionate smile. "Bonne nuit," she replies, and goes in, locking up behind her.

Montjoly watches her go, and she turns back to see him watching as she goes down the hall to her apartment; she waves, and he gives a little salute in reply, waiting until he can no longer see her. 

He takes a little breath, looks around, and puts his hands in his skirt's pockets, alone with his thoughts as he walks back to his car. His thoughts aren't in language, just vague impressions: Residual worry, brotherly affection, bravado, and the surreal feeling that only a deserted city at night can produce, and deep down, a love for his sister that has never quite been acceptable enough to show in daylight.