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The great lump of flesh and bone was slumped over the chair, conjoined at the neck in a spent heap. This typically happened around this hour every day. Right on cue, Otto had succumbed to his exhaustion, no doubt from all the running around he had done while carrying the burden that was his twin sister upon his neck. Arora could hardly fault him for it.
Even starved as she was, she knew that in their growing ages that it was getting harder and harder on him to lug her around, though he would never dare voice his complaints aloud. He was much too considerate when it came to his lover’s feelings, conscious of the fact that her self esteem often tanked when she was stuck with her own thoughts for too long. He did everything he could to alleviate any stress and take care of her.
Arora caressed her brother’s head with a gentle touch, stroking his hair as he snored unevenly. As much as she despised her condition, knowing her own limitations, she pitied him just as much. In her darkest moments, she felt that her father may have been right to try and sever them. Perhaps Otto could have been more successful in life. He had always been the charmer, the politician, the voice of reason. That great ox of a man was handsome as they came and could have the world eating from his palm if he so willed it. His only real obstacle to exploring such a path in full was… her.
Yes, she may have had her merits. She was the brains to his brawn, a polyglot, a chemist… But as intelligent as she was, there was only so much she could do with it when her entire existence and ability to move depended on Otto. Arora could lament over the unfairness of it all for another two decades, and the sting of her reality wouldn’t lessen.
That wasn’t to say that she always felt that way. Periods of genuine gratitude were fleeting and sparse between those stages of melancholy and dread. She was just as thankful for Otto’s constant company, despite the circumstances surrounding their birth. They would never be alone. They would always have each other’s back. Protecting one another. Loving each other, even if no one else ever would. They were…
A scuttle drew her from her wandering thoughts, and she halted her hand atop Otto’s scalp. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Arora reached for one of her vials. It would be a cold day in hell before she ever allowed anyone to sneak up on her brother as he slumbered in peace. He had earned his leisure.
Flashes of images in the back of her mind. Their father. Back from the grave to finish them off. To take her darling Otto away from her.
Her heart slowed only when she saw that it was no enemy of theirs, but the Italian. The mobster. Franco Barbi. She hesitated to use the term ally, but it was as close as one could get to having one in a place like this, united under the label of Prime Asset.
Franco strutted on over, unbothered and unphased by their unsightly appearance after the long weeks they had grown accustomed to one another. He’d grown used to such monstrosities at Sinyala, and quite frankly, he wasn’t in a place to talk with his own birth defects.
They had only spoken a handful of times now, but it was rare to engage one-on-one like this. Especially given Otto’s harbored disdain towards the mafioso for a multitude of reasons.
Arora didn’t share the extent of his distaste. Franco had a certain… appeal, she supposed. A little rough around the edges, but not completely absent of charm. She had always had eccentric tastes and was willing to try just about anything once. Just another of her experiments, one could call it.
“Well, well, whadda we got here?” Franco said with a cock of his chin. “Your brother’s nappin’ on the job?”
“Seeing as you’re the only one of us in possession of a firearm,” Arora croaked, “I should think you capable of patrolling on your own for the next hour or so.”
Franco scoffed. “This is what happens when you don’t got the right man for the job. Leavin’ me to do this shit by myself…” He shook his head in exasperation before raising his chin, eyes blazing. “You think I ain’t feelin’ tuckered out too? Got me runnin’ around like a goddamn paperboy. Let’s get one thing straight: I ain’t no fuckin’ servant. I’m just askin’ for a little courtesy here, nothin’ wrong with that.”
While it was likely true that Franco was exhausted himself from hunting reagents all day, and his constant ragged breathing was anything but subtle, she had trouble sympathizing. All of the smoking and heavy alcohol consumption over his short lifetime had probably done irreparable damage to his lungs. An issue of his own creation. And even then, riddled with a number of health problems and deformities, he was still more free than she and her brother would ever be.
“You’re still young. You should be out and enjoying it. After all, you’re better equipped for the job… In more ways than one,” Arora added bitterly, her eyes growing hard on his face.
Otto’s short rest meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. It would take far more than that to balance the scales, and even this cretin must have understood that.
Franco shrugged his shoulders lazily. “Yeah, I thought my life was pretty fucked. But if the alternative was this shit?” He gestured over the body of the Kress Twins with a smirk. “Marone… Let’s just say you really know how to make a man feel special. Definitely taught me a thing or two about showin’ some appreciation for the little things in life.”
Maybe Franco was only being sarcastic, poking fun at their conjoined body and their unholy incestuous union, but even so, she was unaccustomed to such a blatant undertone of… What was that, flirtation? No, surely she was only imagining it. No one had ever flirted with her like this, aside from her darling Otto. And certainly not for free. And yet she could feel his eyes practically burning a hole through her chest, where her small and perky breasts sat on full display.
Raising a brow at him, she remarked, “Careful. If Otto were to hear you talking like that… Well.” To her surprise, she even managed to sound bashful.
Franco grinned. “Well,” he repeated, approaching closer. “It's a good thing he won't.”
Arora wasn’t so naive as to misinterpret his intentions or the target of his gaze. His eyes were curious, like that of a child’s. Looks like the baby wasn’t just here to make friendly conversation…
Franco was a brave one, coming so close to them. Otto would saw him in half if he so much as laid a finger on her, no different from their father.
Arora didn’t move, her breathing going shallow as she followed his line of sight. “Watch where you’re looking,” she murmured.
“It ain’t exactly a secret, is it?”
After unrolling his glove and setting it aside, Franco licked the tips of his fingers before dragging them ever so slightly just at the edge of Otto’s neck rolls before meeting her outer labia. It was only when he brushed them over her inner folds that she bit back a startled gasp.
Franco’s grin was downright wolflike. “Cazzo, would you look at that? Me and that pigheaded fuckin’ cop were debatin’ the other day whether or not this snatch of yours was the real deal. Could never get close enough to really tell. But this ain’t half bad, doll.”
Arora just barely stifled her whimper. Shameful as the traitorous heat in her groin was, it was nice to feel so desired.
Only in a hellish facility like this could a woman like her be coveted and sought after by potential suitors. Not that she required any beyond Otto for most of her day-to-day pleasures… But on the rare occasion, she contemplated whether she was with him only out of necessity. If she didn’t have Otto carnally, who would desire her in turn? At least if she had options to explore, she would truly know whether it was love or obligation that had brought them together.
Franco sucked off his fingers, getting them nice and wet with his tongue, before stroking in tender little circles. “Wanna get you slick all over, getta taste of all those sexy juices of yours,” he drawled out.
A shudder rolled through her. She felt even more aroused by the knowledge that Otto was sleeping through all of this. The very idea of him waking up to the sight of his beloved being stimulated by the mafioso, his eyes blazing with a flash of possessive jealousy… Oh, how it turned her on so badly just imagining it. If there was one man who knew how to stake his claim on her, it was her dear Otto.
Franco leaned a hair closer, eating up the sight of her glistening folds. “Look at that. You’re leakin’ like a fuckin’ faucet.”
When his thumb prodded at the sensitive button of her clit, and her body jolted, Franco grinned wider.
“Watch it,” Arora said tightly.
Franco disregarded her warning. “So where does the neck rolls end and the pussy start? Last thing I need is your brother gettin’ pissy if I start rubbin’ the wrong shit.” He was staring at her with more than just morbid curiosity, but a ravenous hunger that made her feel tingly all over.
“Are you thinking of getting a taste?” What an eager little man…
She couldn’t hide her own excitement at the prospect. She had always fantasized about oral. One of the largest tragedies of their shared anatomy was the fact that it was an impossible angle for Otto to have her in such a manner. No doubt, he would have lavished her with praise and masterful flicks and strokes of the tongue, were it possible.
Franco gave her a knowing look, reading her beady eyes like a book. “Ha!” he barked out. “Brother dearest ain’t given’ you the tonguin’ you’re cravin’, huh? Well… Baby’s got a trick or two up his sleeve to help with that.”
Arora immediately crinkled her nose at his word choice. Ah. How could she have forgotten? She didn’t mind a younger partner, the occasional pretty boytoy or two to have her fun with. Otto gifted her with the occasional fling now and again, and she had allowed him the same luxury of… indulging in his whores. But never had she fancied a man that debased himself so. Not one that would refer to himself in such an infantile manner. It left her feeling repulsed and cold inside. Nearly enough to dry up the sap of her arousal then and there.
But then any complaints she may have uttered were swallowed up by the greedy, wriggling tongue of the man-child and his delighted groans muffled against the folds of Otto’s neck. With a chuckle, he lapped up her juices until they were dripping down his chin. “Succulent whore,” he rasped, breath tickling the sensitive flesh.
A spark of impatience and need overcame her. One scrawny arm snapped out towards Franco’s large skull. She grabbed at the roots of his hair, pushing his head down with an urgency that startled her. “Don’t stop,” she ordered.
Emboldened by her desire, Franco growled and went down on her once more. He was messy, slobbering over her as he licked with a fiery passion. When he sucked on her swollen nub, a startled cry left her chapped lips. Nervous that Otto might wake, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Quivering, shaking. It was oh-so intense, more than she was used to.
“Good lord,” she gasped.
“You like that, Mommy?” Franco purred, his breath ghosting over her slick pussy. “Tell me I’m doin’ good. Tell me how much you want me. How much you need me.”
The idea was laughable. She didn’t need him. What she needed was his tongue stroking along her—
Arora squeezed her eyes shut, her hold tightening. “Oh, you’re such a filthy, depraved… ah, animal-” she bit out.
Franco merely grinned up at her. “Oh, an animal, am I?” he retorted. “I’ll show you an animal.”
A man as starved for attention as him would gladly eat up even the negative kind. She was glad for it. She wasn’t going to pamper and baby him. Arora had always dreamt of miraculously becoming a mother one day, but certainly not like this.
With a delighted chuckle, practically drooling over her, he rubbed her slit with two fingers before working them inside her with relative ease. She admired the boldness at which he explored her sex, the way he dove in without a moment’s hesitation. Thrusting in and out with lazy strokes, he crooked his fingers just right against her G-spot, before pushing out again and beginning anew.
“Keep them in,” Arora ordered. Or, so she tried. The words came out as a broken plea. “Right there. Just…”
Franco’s nostrils flared. “It ain’t my first time fingerin’ a broad,” he growled. “You don’t gotta tell me what to do. Just shut up, and focus, wouldja?”
Despite his grumbling, he followed her instructions and kept both fingers plunged inside of her wet sheath. He moved only the tips of his fingers, grinding them back and forth at that deliciously spongy point inside of her that Otto so often loved to tease. Squeezing tighter around him, Arora’s startled breath hitched when Franco’s thumb rubbed at her electrified clit.
She controlled her breathing, steadying it until it matched Otto’s snoring. She wanted to hold her lover’s hand so badly. Instead, she settled for touching his chest with her other arm, holding him as best she could. They would never be able to hug one another, but this was as close to an embrace as their anatomy allowed. Her other hand continued fisting at Franco’s hair, and she was sure she would rip it clean from the scalp if kept this up for much longer.
“I’m close. So close,” she breathed out. “Franco, I’m…”
“Yeah? You wanna come? You gonna be a good mommy and come on baby’s fingers like a dirty slut? You gonna drench these fingers for me?” Franco husked, his eyes lighting up with glee, and he began to stroke faster at her sensitive bundle of nerves.
Stroking, stroking, until…
“Fuck,” she cursed in a sharp hiss.
Even when Franco’s fingers slowly came to a still, it took a moment longer for her to recover from the feverish peak of her arousal. Withdrawing his soaked fingers, he made a big show of tasting her. “Mmm,” he drew out, smacking his lips for emphasis. “Look at all this mess you made for me. That’s one way to make a man feel appreciated around here.”
Arora ignored him, petting and pawing at Otto’s chest to soothe him in the depths of his slumber. When she realized he had remained oblivious to what had just transpired, she breathed out a sigh of relief before turning a stern look to Franco. “Don’t push your luck,” she croaked. “You best take your leave before my Otto…”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” Franco scoffed with a dismissive wave. “I was just takin’ a little break is all. Keep your shirt on.” He flicked his tongue over his lips, leering at her exposed breasts one last time before heading off, leaving Arora with nothing more than the memory of his hot mouth and fingers working her up.
Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the sinful fantasy. No, she wouldn’t want her darling Otto to get upset, after all… She was allowed her privacy at times, despite the circumstances. They were one body, not one mind. Otto didn’t need to know a thing.
It would be their little secret.
“Come back here! You think you can fuck with a Barbi and get away with it?!” Franco roared at the retreating reagents, firing a shot into the window. Glass shattered as the bullet reached its mark in the intended target—the leg of an ebony woman, whose screech rang out through the streets. “Ohh, you messed with the wrong one, whore. Baby’s gonna drink you dry, and skin those sweet tits for supper. Just you wait and see!”
“Ugh,” Otto groaned from a distance, shooting a disgusted glower in the Italian’s direction. “How crass.”
Arora was inclined to agree. Franco was a wild dog, barking at shadows and puffing out his chest just to feel ten feet tall. His entire being screamed of insecurity, his personality abhorrent. Bold with the arrogance of new money and the scent of an unloved whelp. But at certain angles, she had to admit that he wasn’t so… unpleasant. Especially not after she had seen him in a new light.
“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Otto muttered. “Loud and uncouth as the rest of his kind. Not even a firm hand could train a mutt like that.”
“He has some potential,” Arora mused. “Even an untrained pup can be fun for a play session or two.”
Otto froze, startled by her confession. “I can feel your heart racing,” he said, the words accusatory and tinged with jealousy.
She did love to make Otto work for it at times. It was the only way to keep things fresh and exciting and still work up a chase between them.
“Don’t you worry, lover. My heart is yours alone,” Arora assured him.
Although… she couldn’t deny the temptation of experiencing that Italian’s tongue on her cunt again.