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It had been a month since the job.
The last independent job that the Breaker’s Band would undertake, and not even for profit. Indeed, it was a stretch to even call it a job when it was, in truth, an act of righteous compassion. On the eve before they were to begin traveling for a lucrative venture, fate struck in the form of three youths seeking their aid against the bandits hounding them.
Jeralt the Blade Breaker knew who they were, courtesy of their blue, gold and red livery– not their names, not immediately, but what they represented. He knew those uniforms all too well, and he knew what involving himself would lead to.
Discovery by the woman he had spent nearly two decades avoiding. An upheaval in the life he had forged for himself and his children, not to mention all of the men who had gathered under his banner.
There were smarter things to do. Leave the two young men and lone woman to their fates, or even give them over to avoid the hassle of dealing with the bandits themselves. Doing that, they could have kept on as they had for eighteen years. Alas, Jeralt Eisner had a crippling flaw most sellswords do well without. He had a conscience, and though it would cost them all freedom, the deserted knight took the job on the spot, without negotiation on pay.
Avarice, another trait sellswords thrive upon, was one thing Jeralt lacked.
Wasn’t like the men and women he recruited to the Breaker’s Band were the sort to stick with someone who would let the helpless be victimized anyway. Wouldn’t have mattered if they had known the three helpless youths were actually the heir apartments of Fódlan’s great powers. Not one of them had ever complained about their oft pro bono work, so long as they were rewarded with some hospitality and kindness as thanks.
They were good people. A family. All the family that Jeralt’s children needed– his twins, Letha and Byleth, born five minutes apart at the cost of their frail mother’s life. This time, their reward was recognition by Jeralt’s old squire, and an insistence they return to Garreg Mach. Well-meaning, but…
—A month since the job . A disgruntled Jeralt settled into a new position as the Archbishop’s latest advisor, sent on regular missions to work on her behalf. Neither one of the Eisner twins had much time with their father after that, and certainly no chance to get clear answers from him on what was really afoot.
What was his real connection to the Church? Why did the Archbishop seem so joyous to meet them in particular? Were they in danger, caught up in sticky machinations? Did the Blade Breaker find their new position distasteful for some reason?
Byleth and Letha had plenty to keep themselves busy with, anyway. They were given jobs, their first steady and honest opportunity for employment. Neither one of them would have considered teaching as a prospective career prior, but– at Garreg Mach’s officer academy, their strategic, tactical and martial experiences could shine. The former and younger of the pair was assigned to oversee the Blue Lion class, while the latter and older was paired with the Black Eagles.
Clear-cut and proven competence from the job led to them being accepted, even though they were only a breath older than any one of their students. Things were going as well as they could, really. As well as anyone would expect having their whole existence turned upon their head, abandoning a nomadic lifestyle for something more sedentary.
But a month since the job —
Things were going as well as they could, but that didn’t translate to anything more than the twins making the best of unwanted circumstances. As the new teachers, they knew they were under constant scrutiny from students and staff alike. They knew that they were being watched even closer than that, too. Trailed around the grounds by squires and knights that felt secure enough in their actions that they didn’t bother being conspicuous.
That was the pain point for them, the lack of privacy for a month: one day they had been free, trusted to wander off on their own when they weren’t working, to entertain themselves as they wished to. The next, well, that freedom was gone. No longer could the twins go on long, solitary walks with only each other for company. They had no option for adventure, and even when they weren’t working, there was always some person or another wanting their attention.
A month since the job . A month where they found themselves situated in rooms set far apart as they could go, when before they would share lodgings in whatever form they took, be it inn room or tent. A month where the pair born together, who had spent almost every waking moment together, could not take the opportunity to just– be themselves . Not their father’s children, not family to the rest of the Breaker’s Band.
Themselves . Brother and sister.
Man and woman, in every respect.
But they had finally found an opportunity. It had taken three weeks of observation and planning for them to figure out when the watching eyes lifted off them, and where others wouldn’t be when that time came.
Could’ve done it sooner, but Letha wanted to make sure they were sure . Discovery would be a disaster for them both, one they couldn’t risk. The two of them knew full well what they were doing was wrong. Very, very wrong, and with good reason– one mistake could produce a far greater mistake, a tragic cruelty upon an innocent newborn.
And that was to say nothing of the scorn and reproach their taboo tango would earn them.
But they didn’t care. Byleth certainly didn’t– he didn’t seem to care about much of anything, his sister above all else. She was the one who started it, of course, full of love and life and joy in a way her young brother was incapable of. But through her, in her, he felt all that and so much more.
One month since the job , since the last time they were truly together. And at long last, while the rest of the monastery cloistered elsewhere…
A soft twig-snap alerted Letha to her brother’s arrival ahead of him pushing through the hedges. Their set rendezvous was within the gardens, a tiny grove formed incidentally rather than purposefully by the landscapers. Stoic-faced, Byleth pushed aside the foliage and found her waiting for him with a smile, and little else for that matter– her clothes were already removed, neatly folded and set on the side of the blanket she had spread out.
That blanket was a fine thing, soft and thick, white and embroidered with the Church’s emblem. Sacrileged now, with a naked woman seated shamelessly upon it. Letha did not pose herself modestly, with her legs crossed or tucked beneath her– instead, her knees were spread wide, feet planted to enable the wanton splay.
Already, she was leaning back on one elbow, the other making the most of the minutes she had spent waiting for her brother to slip his tail– gracing her petite pink slit with fingers that teased and placated ahead of what was promised to soon fill it. The backwards lean served her breasts as a feast for his eyes, one immediately set upon. They shifted with the movements of her hand, swaying and rippling in time to the music she played upon herself. Letha’s lips purred but two words around her smile; they rarely needed more than that to know each other’s minds. “Hi, handsome.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Byleth said as he flicked leaves off himself, taking the few steps he needed to put himself before Letha, his feet still shy of the space opened in front of hers. Calmer words had never been spoken in the face and promise of wet, wanting cunt. Something had always kept the younger Eisner from living as fully as his sister had, a byproduct of their mother’s passing for all they knew.
She laughed quietly at that, her blue eyes shining with loving affection normally misplaced towards family. “Don’t apologize,” Letha murmured up at him, her smile slanting more eager and frisky. “Just get your pants off and get inside me. I’ve missed you and your sweet cock too much to wait any longer, and it’s not like we have long before the service ends,” she told him. Those words would have most men ripping their clothes off, but Byleth was not most men.
“Shouldn’t get my shirt sweaty. It’ll make it obvious I was doing something,” he said, taking the time to get as bare as his sister.
Although Letha’s pile of clothing was neat, his was precise and perfect, every article aligned just right by the time he was nude. She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t raise her voice for argument, instead watching closely as he stripped for her. The movements that took Byleth from standing to kneeling between Letha’s splay were no less efficient in their economy, almost inhuman. Other parts of her brother spoke more clearly to his passion for her, though– that sweet cock she referenced, for one.
In terms of height, Byleth was decidedly average. Built solid, athletic, but average altogether at a glance’s assessment. Those book-cover metrics of size were blown out of the water by the size that mattered most to his sister, however. The moment she could, Letha had her arms around his shoulders and was dropping back upon their holy backdrop, pulling her lover-brother down with her, feeling his impressive thickness warm against her toned belly. “Want you to fuck me so it is obvious,” she tittered in his ear, as her legs hooked over his hips.
“Do you?” he asked, less playful, more direct, guiding himself to her waiting wetness with one hand, the other exploring along her sides with reverent familiarity.
“Hard as you dare. Maybe not that hard, though, yeah,” Letha whispered, before her lips dragged along his cheek to his lips, unchaste in their meeting even before they truly spat in chastity’s eye. Their lips and tongues danced deeply, lovingly and without the shame society would have put upon them– hitched briefly when Byleth nocked his stiffness to his sister’s snatch, then intensified as he drove home inside her.
And it was home indeed. The two of them had shared everything in life, and they had every intention of doing that until the day they both died. Filling her was the natural purpose of Byleth’s cock, just as Letha’s cunt had been made perfect for his dick– able to take all of him and not an inch more, and tightly at that. For a long moment, they simply held together, hilted, kissing and touching, him loving upon her breasts, her nails dragging trails across his shoulders.
After so long apart, they couldn’t help but enjoy the reunion– but they knew their time was too limited for that. Three weeks of planning, after all. The first movements were slow and measured, reacquainting in wonder, surrounded by silence save the running of nearby water and their own wet intimacy.
Then came the second set, and any pretense of doing anything but fucking as much as they could and as quickly as they could went away. Though not a race to the finish, it was a raced finish all the same as they did everything they could to each other, as quickly as they could. After all– who knew how long it would be before they could do this again? Their found space was neither wide nor long enough for them to sprawl out in comfort, but so long as their bodies were one, there was much they could manage.
The siblings ended their long-wanted respite as they began it, save for some mess. Seiros’ symbol on the blanket was sure to be left crusty when the cum splattered on it dried; there was no time for them to wash it, and delivering it to the laundry risked everything. Most of what was on it had been intended for Byleth’s belly, but in the heat of the moment, Letha’s legs had squeezed tight ‘round her brother’s waist and refused to let him go until his spill was halfway through.
“Nothing… to worry about. Should be a safe day,” she panted exaltedly in Byleth’s ear, thighs relaxing but only just. Not honest, but not dishonest either. Her hands ran over his back slowly, soothing the scratches she clawed into them, each one sure to remind him for days thereafter what they had done. “Goddess, but I missed this… I missed you so much, Byleth…”
He only grunted, spent, and dug deep into her comfort before their time ran its course. That was enough for Letha, who knew her twin better than she knew herself– he was a simple man, come whatever may. All too soon after they finished, the great brass bell atop the Cathedral chimed eleven times, once for each of Sothis’ ten relics, and then once again for the sainted daughter responsible for her eponymous church.
With that, the religious service– the twins’ opening for their dirty deeds done in the figurative dark –ended. They kissed goodbye for as long as they dared, the temptation to say fuck-it-all and fuck it all away once more resisted.
Little did either one of them know that someone else had skipped the service– someone who very much should have been there. From their stately bedroom’s high-set window, they had the monastery’s best view of the gorgeous gardens. Consequently, that view also overlooked the hedges that created the little grove.
Their explorations and furtive sneaking over the last month had been noticed early, watched with middling interest at first. The Eisner siblings were of vital interest to them, but their lingering notice was more akin to noticing a loved one or eccentric stranger in a crowd. Otherwise, their spies (and more unwitting agents, mere faculty and the like) had all necessary observation in hand.
That interest grew as it became clearer they were trying to evade the eyes set upon them… and it grew all the more invested as suspicions formed. Hopes , even, of what they intended to do when they made use of their found privacy.
As the twin siblings disentangled and redressed themselves, Archbishop Rhea smiled slightly, thoughtfully. Like all her smiles, it was motherly, even kind. Her pale green eyes had not peeled away from the morally unforgivable act that the pair engaged in. Indeed, the secret Nabatean had eschewed human pretense and stood before her window, still as a statue, unblinking from the moment Letha arrived and laid out her blanket.
The Archbishop’s decision on what to do about what she had witnessed was made as easily as their goodbye kiss. Not the first one or the second one, but the third one, the real one, the one where Letha had grabbed her departing brother’s arm and pulled him close for one last exchange of spittle. By the time they were finally slipping out of the hedges proper, Rhea herself had abandoned her impromptu station to gather what she would require.
It was pure impulse, that decision, and Archbishop Rhea had not survived thousands of years in the dark by giving into impulse. But, she was still riding the month-long excitement of discovering the Crest Stone of Flames had survived the ‘flames’ that supposedly consumed the Eisner Twins eighteen years prior.
They had… inspired her, and it was high time she celebrated the revelation of their life anyway.
More than just that, Rhea felt she deserved a little treat for her deeply undue patience with their father.
Classes resumed for the afternoon once everyone settled after the day’s service– though not as anyone would expect. Manuela, the professor assigned to Golden Deer, found her classroom crammed with all three Houses, accounting for the abrupt audience the Eisners were having with the Archbishop.
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Not in the Cathedral, not in her offices elsewhere… an audience in the Archbishop’s personal chambers. Letha was visibly on edge as they neared the door, shoulders tense, lips pursed. She couldn’t avoid the nagging worries building in the back of her head, the little itch at the base of her spine, right over the small of her back.
Couldn’t overlook the unexpected summons’ proximity to their little indiscretion.
Byleth showed less apprehension, but then, his outward capacity for emotion made him show less of anything at any time, any place, in any event. He spoke aside to his sister softly, sensing her mood, even if he didn’t quite share its particulars. “Most likely, she’s following up on a report of our absence. We already have our alibi established.”
The service - deliberately skipped to let them get ahead on prepared coursework.
“Most likely,” Letha repeated softly, but without a shred of certainty. She just had a feeling . Perhaps it was just a small one, a niggling rather than a niggling, amplified by what she felt elsewhere in her body. Even though she kept her panties dry by undressing ahead of time, putting them back on– well, she was a wet mess between her thighs. And her ‘accidental’ insemination only added to that.
There was some soreness to her hips and backside too, but they had kept their passion for each other’s flesh in check. Relatively speaking. They paused on the threshold of the door, conspicuously unguarded; their instructions had been to show themselves in upon arrival. Letha looked up and aside at her brother, her other self, her one and only. After a short chew upon the pout of her lower lip, she mustered a smile and reached for his nearest hand.
He gave it to her, of course, and for a moment they simply entwined squeezed fingers, just as Letha had twined her limbs around her brother’s body earlier. “I love you,” Letha whispered to him.
“I love you too,” Byleth said, his sincerity undiminished by his unchanged expression. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
“As long as we’re together… we’ll always be.” With that softly spoken, Letha slipped her fingers from his and reached to open the door. It creaked forebodingly as she pushed it wide, slowly enough that she only made the ominous moment drag out. And then, slightly ahead of her brother, she entered the proverbial dragon’s den– if only she knew how true that was.
Byleth got the door behind her, his presence at her back always a welcome thing. Whether it was being fucked or defending flanks on the battlefield, there was no other person Letha would want there in any situation.
“You called for us, Archbishop?” she asked. It was a simple and clear question, spoken confidently and without hesitation; it also lacked the typical deference shown towards the religious leader of Fódlan’s only standing religious institution. The others had been either ground to dust or absorbed so long ago that not even history books could recount their names.
“Yes,” Rhea looked towards the pair with her steadfastly matronly smile, drawing her chair back from her writing desk and rising smoothly to her feet. Robed and mantled, she was a striking sight, even without the decorative headpiece she often wore. The light streaming in from the sitting room’s window glinted off the gold of her queenly coronet, known to be once worn by Seiros herself. “First, my apologies for interrupting your lessons. If this could wait… I would have.”
With her feet hidden beneath her floor-length road, the Archbishop’s forward steps seemed more akin to a glide despite the click, click, click of her heels– an illusion strong enough that the contradictory noise could not break it. It was a swaying glide. Although modest in coverage, Rhea’s vestments were cut flattering, not hiding the width of her hips; the shape of her long legs, generous thighs and all.
“Of course. We teach at your pleasure,” Letha said, and waited for more. The closer Rhea came, the more guarded she felt herself becoming– a stiffness contrasting all the natural softness of her femininity. Where Rhea’s clothes seemed unable to hide her womanhood in spite of their respectability, Letha’s style openly embraced her looks and curves.
Both she and her brother were wearing the clothing they would wear out in the field, sans armor. For Letha, that meant tight and very short shorts over a pair of clockwork gear-pattern stockings, showing no small amount of pale leg. Her pink-trimmed top took after her shorts, short but at least less temptingly so, showing collar and a hint of smooth belly; its highest portion hid cleavage, but only just. Byleth matched in color, but was otherwise more functional. Fashion was never on his mind.
A moment’s silence, and then out came that more , exactly as Letha feared: “You were not unseen this afternoon,” Rhea said, her hands neatly resting beneath the curve of her bosom. Her smile remained, but she now seemed far from loving mother: each word out of her lush lips bore an authoritarian edge. “And I’m afraid a misdeed of such magnitude cannot be overlooked, even for the Blade Breaker’s children. Even for all my love of your late mother.”
Another moment of silence, all that tension back in Letha and so much worse than before. Her blue eyes had widened, but she was not surprised. Deep down, it was as she feared– and that fear had her sick to her stomach, ready to vomit over what being caught could cost them. She did not want to live a life without her brother. At her flank, she could feel the shift in her brother too, his reactive reach for her hand. Letha held his fingers tight, and it gave her everything she needed to be strong for them both.
They had never been caught before, witnessed. If anyone had ever suspected, they had never breathed a word of it to them. Though Letha had not ever considered what she would say in this terrible situation– the words came to her quickly, empathetic in their desperation.
“... You don’t understand. No one can. The two of us, we were–”
Rhea’s voice cut into the monologue and sliced it down to size, leaving Letha flinching, open-mouthed and off-balance. “No, my child. You misunderstand your reason for being here. I cannot overlook what you’ve done with your own flesh and blood, for it is a crime in every corner of Fódlan. It is an affront to Sothis Herself. But,” she said, with a heavy pause following, drawn out.
“But what?” Byleth asked curtly, a rare flash of impatience and through that, anxiety.
Rhea’s smile twitched wider, and her resting hands splayed outward in a gesture that was inherently permissive, welcoming. “As Her voice on Fódlan, I would be willing to give it my blessing… the two of you, my purifying benediction. Absolution before the goddess. It would matter little if you were ever caught by another,” she noted, gliding forward another inch. “But if you are willing to receive it, my blessing? You will have whatever privacy you need within the Monastery, as you need it.”
Unbelievable words, their meaning layered, inscrutable. There was no silence now. “If we refuse your ‘blessing’?” Letha asked pointedly, glancing back at her brother and meeting his eye, wary. He squeezed her hand tighter.
“Then this will be the last time your hands ever touch, through no fault of mine,” Rhea said, a touch more softly, and more threatening for it. “On the other hand…”
“Speak plainly. What is your ‘blessing’? What price would you have us pay?” Byleth demanded, stepping closer to his beloved sister now. It was only natural for Letha to shift closer to his side, to ease into the comfort offered by his other arm, slipping over her shoulders and around her. How rare it was, for him to take the lead like this– but she didn’t simply take from him. Letha wound her arm around his waist, gripping him tight.
Silence again, and all the more vexing for it. Rhea’s smile was wide, but her luscious lips formed it slim, sharp in a way not dissimilar to the thinnest piece of parchment– unthreatening at a glance, yet only one touch and those beset by it knew the peril it offered. Its more matronly attributes were lost upon both the Eisners, for a mother figure was something they never possessed, raised by a single father and his sellswords. Just a single father, and a horde of unblooded aunts and uncles.
And just as Letha tired of the delay, the obvious toying , just as she was leaning forward to deliver a snap of her voice, Rhea spoke again. “Mmmm… one would think that two young people driven by carnal ardor would be able to surmise my intent without a need for being blunt and direct.” Her eyelids lowered a hair, and the Eisners noticed something different about the Archbishop– the faintest touch of mint-hued shadow along them. That realization made the touch of mascara lining her eyes pop out to them.
The peach-pink of her lips was that little bit more intense than it usually was. They were painted. Over the last month, they had seen Rhea every day, but never with makeup on. The Archbishop simply didn’t seem to need it. Motherly stature and figure aside, her skin seemed perfectly pristine. It was easy to imagine how soft it was in its smoothness; her cheeks held natural, vibrant color to them, full of warm life. Quite frankly— she seemed ageless to them. She couldn’t have been a young woman, not having lived a life that led to being the leader of the Church of Seiros. Yet aside from the inherent maturity of her features? Rhea could have passed for a student, if she cared to.
It wouldn’t have taken more than binding her breasts down and going with a more girlish hairstyle.
Her hands moved, slow and sure, effortless graceful. They watched without comment as the mantled cloak draped over her shoulders slipped away from her womanly form like a silken waterfall, weighed down by the decorative gold positioned along the shoulders. It became nothing more than a puddle of fabric at her heels, revealing more of the flattering robe that covered Rhea– and with that, Letha grew uneasy. Byleth’s expression remained taciturn, but he tightened his arm around her.
Neither interrupted her, not sure what they were watching– the next words out of Rhea’s mouth were confounding to their ears. “So many of your peers… in age, if not occupation… wonder about those in positions above them.” Her eyes glinted with a hint of wicked mischief no living soul in Garreg Mach had seen out of her. “How it would be to have them in positions beneath, so often. It’s only natural.”
“But,” Rhea continued as her hands began to move again, gliding across the seemingly wrinkleless purity of her white robe. “Twins that you are, neither one of you has ever thought of another , have you? You’ve only had eyes for each other,” she said, with a hint of soft laughter. “What lovely loyalty. Few are so lucky to know anything so absolute.” Her fingers– their long nails were painted to match her hair, her eyes, their shadow. That was new, too. They seemed to find a hidden clasp just behind one hip, normally hidden by her cloak. “It’s understandable you hesitate to look past what you already have, when it is so satisfying.”
That unease in Letha took a sharp turn as the words finally struck understanding deep inside her, a bell that reverberated through her being. “You’re not serious,” she said faintly, her face growing pale. Byleth was silent.
“Always. Anything else would be ill-fitting of Her chosen representative, wouldn’t you agree? And cruel play, besides.” Rhea’s smile at last turned to a smirk, haughty in its power over them. Apparently, her sleeves were only attached to the robe. Whatever clasp or string Rhea pulled had them falling quickly to the floor. Another little pull, and then her high-necked robe began to ease down along her, its slow slip paused only by a hand touching it to her chest, just above her breasts.
For a moment it hovered, giving Letha some hope it wouldn’t continue; hope discarded when the Archbishop’s fingers started to travel downward, the shift allowing her skin to slowly peek free. The older of the two Eisners could not even begin to believe what she was seeing– not at first. Not when it was just Rhea’s decolletage showing, then the flawless flesh above her chests.
When the first curves of her motherly chest were revealed to them though, there could be no further denial of what was happening. “Wait,” Letha mumbled, her face beginning to flush with her upset embarassment. Wait Rhea did not, and a deep breath paired with the last descent of the robe– a relaxed inhale rising her chest, then an exhale dropping it.
The littlest slant of Rhea’s body, a more flagrant flick of her fingers, and then the robe was falling away from the puffy, shy nipples that couldn’t quite catch them, their tips recessed.
It was not the first pair of breasts either one of them saw outside their relationship– but every other set of tits thrust before their eyes… nay. Better to consider what Rhea’s breasts were. Heavy, approaching the size of Byleth’s without quite matching them. The several inches of difference in their height made Rhea’s seem that little bit more smaller, however.
Holy, for all that she represented. Very much present there-and-then, and something neither one of them could avoid or ignore, not with the differential in their power. Not with her leverage over them. The smirking priestess caught her robe near her waist. With all their poignant weight, her breasts defined much of her torso, naturally paired to her narrow waist and flaring hips– motherly, motherly, motherly. Yet their softness did not prepare either Eisner for her stomach.
Rhea’s limbs always seemed willowy and shapely beneath her robe, lean. Her abs were shockingly tight, more at home on a warrior-queen than an administrative cleric. They put the rest of Rhea’s toning into perspective. Although her arms were willowy, they were lined with similar toning.
“Wait,” Letha heard herself say again, and in the wake of that word, she realized that both times she said it, Rhea proceeded upon hearing her plea. The robe dropped altogether, forming a shapeless ring around the Archbishop’s elegant golden heels.
She hid nothing from their eyes at that moment. Her thighs were suitably thick without sacrificing softness, and in a natural pose, their gap exposed the most holy treasure of Seiros’ church.
Completely, purely hairless, and not an ounce shy; unrepentantly sinful and bold in its abrupt exposé. Rhea’s womanhood bore bold lips, not unseemly so but also not perfect in symmetry. Their swell and outward expression made her arousal all the more striking, and the tip of her clit peeked greedily from its hood.
Whatever holy purity and wholesome morality Rhea seemed to possess, it was only surface-deep, no thicker than her robe. Stricken and unsure, Letha gawked at the other woman’s pussy for what felt like minutes. Rhea seemed to milk the attention, that smirk holding strong on her lips. One hand rested upon her hip, the other caressing along her toned abs absently, winding down…
It lazily circled her clit as Rhea purred a soft correction: “Well. A cruel tease, at any rate. I do enjoy a bit of cruel play … but I would never go this far without intent to follow through.” Damp with residue from her moist folds, Rhea took that finger and crooked it in an inviting curl, drifting a step backwards. “Come. Be blessed, my children.” Her eyes shifted with salacious amusement from Byleth to Letha, noting with a deepening of her smirk: “I see your hesitation… but your brother is sure enough for both of you.”
At that, Byleth cleared his throat, and Letha startled at the sound– almost awkward, almost embarrassed, things she never saw in her brother. She threw a glance up at him and found him hesitating to meet her eye; he did not hesitate to release her fingers when she slipped them free. Although she could sense the shift of his mood, she did not believe it until that hand instead felt down, unwilling to trust sight alone.
Her brother’s cock protruded potently against the crotch of his pants. It did not comfort Letha, a rarity. Byleth only fixed gazes with her as her fingers moved along it in familiar, rote movements, and she asked him whisper-soft, “You want to do this?”
“I don’t see what choice we have,” he answered quietly, though he did not avoid the question itself: “But yes. She’s…” Not a pause, but a struggle to find the right words, to express himself, to put feelings he couldn’t quantify into understandable terms.
After a moment of just studying his eyes, Letha smiled. She understood her brother better than she understood herself, after all. The curve of her lips was unsure but genuine, unforced. “Alright. Then… we’ll do it together,” she promised him. She didn’t hide her nerves over the whole thing, but as long as Byleth was there and a part of it…
They did everything together. They looked towards the Archbishop together, when her heels went click-click amidst her turn. Rhea’s pale green hair streamed down along her sculpted back, ending just above her rump, immaculate as ever– faint curls ironed in, so ever-present that they seemed natural. As gorgeous as it was, what snapped their attention was what lay lower, unsurprisingly.
Faced up front, the holy matron had hips that could mesmerize, wide and almost inviting to any errant hand. In uncovered motion, their swing and sway was borderline hypnotic, each long-legged step shifting that rump – that glorious, perfectly-formed hill of an ass. It more than balanced out her sizable breasts, a round bubble that begged for someone to come along and try their hand at popping it. Tight and toned, but not without an apparent layer of soft skin over it, judging by the littlest jiggle with each footfall.
It was not hard for Letha to see why Byleth wanted to follow through. She would’ve been tempted, had she the equipment for it. Thanks to her thigh gap, they could still see a teeny-tiny bit of Rhea’s waiting twat as she moved.
Neither one of them met the Archbishop’s eye as she glanced knowingly behind herself at them; she was through the door by the time they were disentangled again and following after her. Letha first again, Byleth behind, getting the door. It was a luxurious room, windows already curtained, soft candlelight suffusing the space with a warm glow– but they weren’t there to appreciate its comforts.
They were there to receive a blessing; to make a coerced deal with a devil in priestess’ robes.
Effectively blackmailed, though Byleth’s desire lessened the sting that should have come with that– and it lessened more as Rhea got her hands on Letha, taking the younger woman by the child-worthy hips and pulling her close, bare breasts resting atop clothed tit. “You’d look so much like your mother, if you didn’t dye your hair,” Rhea murmured fondly, drawing one hand up along Letha’s side, moving inward to rove up her neck, threading fingers into her hair.
For a moment, that unnerved Letha– but then, Rhea had been present for their birth, hadn’t she? The taboo of it all began to sink in for her, heart beginning to raise with an excitement still not certain – but willing now, even without Byleth’s buy-in. Her blue eyes lidded as Rhea moved in to take Letha’s in its first kiss outside her incestuous relationship.
So lush and full, there could be no mistaking Rhea’s mouth for her brother’s– to say nothing of the pure lust that drove it, lacking the same affection and familiarity she shared with Byleth. Her hands caressed Letha through her clothing, freely touching the girl in places only Byleth had known.
Touched, her mouth taken, Letha felt timid in a sense. She was the one that started the illicit relationship with her brother, and with him she was always confident, forward. But she didn’t know Rhea the same way she knew him. Not sure of what was safe to touch, Letha’s soft but calloused hands came to rest upon the smooth bump of Rhea’s ass, allowing her tongue to be coaxed out, pinned and tangled…
One of Rhea’s hands left Letha, though it touched another part of her all the same. It just wasn’t a part of her body . Byleth was easily drawn up against the two curvaceous women, a hand at the back of his head guiding him into the kiss, lips lost in favor of far more tongue, any one-on-one brief and focused, lurid. Amidst a suckle on the tip of her brother’s familiar tongue, Letha felt within him the same lust driving Rhea, infectious– his incestuous love for her still there but not the focus.
Then the clothing began to drop and slip away, started by Rhea– Letha’s top bordered on corset, not slipped on but laced on. Once those were off, it pried off her easily, pitting breast for breast, tit for tat. Even ignoring the size and height that framed them, Letha’s bust was noticeably larger, their heavy hang still perky. Where Rhea’s nipples were a shy contrast to her forwardness, Letha’s were eager and extroverted, jutting out with thick tips that dug into Rhea’s soft breasts as they pressed together.
Byleth’s shirt came unbuttoned, clumsily so, almost popped off by both women in their haste. As he took a step back to toss it off his arms, Rhea ended the kiss, smirking hungrily at a more breathless, dazed-eye Letha. “A good start, but only that… a start,” she murmured, before dipping down. At first, Letha expected another kiss, but Rhea went lower , grabbing hips and kissing her way down Byleth’s belly as she squatted low in her heels, knees spread.
She was still wearing that coronet. That seemed wrong to Letha. Trembling fingers reached for it and slid it away, as Rhea’s tongue teased just over the hem of her short-shorts. Soon tugged, pried down. They did not want to budge over the curve of her ass; indeed, Letha needed to wiggle and shimmy to even get them on safely.
Rhea did not care much for safety. She forced them down, unsettlingly strong– not much working into it. It was just once she encountered resistance, she ripped through them, seams ripping, bottoms ruined. Letha gasped, clutching the holy crown, watching startled as Rhea next kissed and nuzzled the damp seat of her crotch–
Then her brother was behind her, pulling them down, rolling down her stockings as they went. He’d always been brisk and efficient at stripping, and she was unsurprised to feel his stiff cock pressing up against her back as he helped Rhea peel away what remained on Letha.
“Pluck her up a moment, then toss her on the bed when I’m done,” she murmured.
“W-waittttt,” Letha groaned out, blinking out of her daze, tossing that coronet aside. She wasn’t a fan of not having solid ground beneath her, and Byleth knew that. “I can take them off–”
Wait just didn’t have a great track record for her that afternoon. The older sister gasped as her brother hiked her up by the hips, his faint grunt amused at her indignant struggle against him. Rhea easily got hold of either foot and yanked away that which stood in the way of her being nude as they, “Byleth, DON’T YOU DARE–” she warned in a panic.
And then Letha flew with a squeal, coming to a bouncing land upon the white duvet topping Rhea’s canopied bed. She rolled over to shoot a look at her brother, who seldom engaged in such mischief– and quickly found herself yelping again as Rhea pounced on her, a lioness catching its next meal. Straddled, Letha found her arms pinned over her head after a short but thrilling struggle, mouth taken again; bottom lip bitten, suckled.
Then Byleth was on the bed with them, and Rhea murmured against Letha’s lips: “You didn’t suck your brother’s cock this afternoon. How often did you, before coming here?” She kept the Eisner sister’s arms pinned with one hand, the other reaching down to caress one of those pliant breasts, fingers easily sinking in without force.
“F-few times a week, I guess,” Letha answered with heated honesty, her face now flush, chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. It was a service she enjoyed giving to him, of course– there was only one better feeling to her than her beloved brother’s dick on her tongue. But she always had the feeling that she got more out of it than he did, and it was never something he initiated on her.
“From now on… it’ll be once a day, to keep my blessing. He deserves that from you, doesn’t he?” Rhea teased breathily, beginning a sinuous shift off of Letha but not too far away from her. Letha missed the palming of her tit the moment it was gone. Missed the weight and warmth of her, too, even that hand holding her still– though that didn’t go far. It found purchase in Letha’s hair, deep purchase, wrapping around and clenching tight.
“Uhhnnn,” the twin sister groaned in an inarticulate answer, more confused than committed. Although a flinch crossed her face in response to Rhea’s begun pull, there was a bit of laxness in her features after it passed. It came with a squirm lower in her body, a throb within, a tingle without. She found herself brought to her hands and knees, facing her brother. He’d already gotten himself comfortable situated on the bed, thighs spread, leaned back against the cushions.
“Mmmmm,” Rhea hummed, the noise interrupted by the sharp THWACK of her hand cracking across Letha’s ass, jolting the young woman forward like a spurred horse. “And what do you say, my child? Having your sister wrap her slutty lips around your cock at least once a day… I trust you have no complaints?” she asked, as Letha found herself between her brother’s legs.
The twins locked gazes briefly, though Byleth was far more present in it than Letha was– a step behind everything, as it seemed to move faster and faster, faster and faster . She was already swept up in Rhea’s terrible current. “It sounds wonderful,” he said.
Slutty – that wasn’t a word uttered in the twins’ bedroom, but it didn’t feel wrong. Not with Rhea there.
“Good. It starts today. It starts right now,” Rhea laughed, her softness at odds with her nearly-painful grip in Letha’s hair. She moved up to kneel close alongside her, wrapping green-tipped fingers confidently around Byleth’s shaft, purring a delighted note in the wake of her titter: “Goddess, what a gift you have here.”
He grunted quietly, subdued as was by simple nature. Rhea slanted Letha’s eyes down towards her brother’s dick, watching with caught breath as the Archbishop stroked him. It was a brisk play, Rhea’s. It was as though she had handled Byleth’s dick a thousand times before. Somehow, even though her fingers were longer, hands larger– he looked larger in the hands of another woman. Rhea made sure to run her fingers and palm along the leaking tip of his engorged crown, ensuring her hold on him was slippery on its descent.
“Sothis made this dick for fucking you, didn’t he?” Rhea’s tease tickled the inside of Letha’s ear; she could only shudder and moan another wordless answer.
A blink of her eyes, and then Byleth seemed even bigger than he had a second prior– Letha only realized it was proximity after the THWACK on her face, after the warm sting across her cheek. She grunted and gasped anew, the Archbishop following up with another damp cock-slap, and then another and another: “Say it. Look your brother in the eye and tell him it,” she ordered, words firm as the grip yanking back on her hair, forcing Letha’s now mushroom-marked face to meet Byleth’s gaze.
—This was new to her, but it didn’t feel foreign. With her brother, there was never really someone on top and someone on bottom. Sex was a back-and-forth joy, entirely shared, preferences aside. Letha panted out a breath, glassy arousal shading her gaze as she looked her twin in the eye.
Already submitted, she obeyed, relaying the truth she already fully believed: “Sothis… made your dick… for fucking me… brother.” And then she said more, unbidden, but just as true: “My mouth, my pussy… they were shaped for you. My brother.”
There was a little shift in Byleth’s stony face, a swallow in his throat– and then a hard grunt. It was louder than the more muffled gasp that Letha made, certainly, as Rhea shoved down powerfully on the back of Letha’s dark teal head. As much as she liked to taste Byleth’s cock, seldom did Letha go as far as to take him far down her throat– and it was always with much more warning. He wasn’t sized for casual hilting.
Not that Rhea made it any shade casual, holding Letha’s head down tightly, her lips spread wide and strained by her brother’s excessive girth. Grunting harshly and struggling to contain her gag reflex, Letha did everything she could to compensate for the new position. Automatic movements, grabbing his thighs, arching her back. It helped, but that help was like adding a single drop of water to an empty pail. It was reactive desperation, a token showing.
It did not help much. Over Letha’s pinned head, Rhea let out a sultry chuckle, twisting and reasserting the grip established in Letha’s wavy hair. Although she spoke down to her, the Archbishop instead had her pale green eyes on Byleth’s blue, unabashed in her sexually-driven sadism. “That’s good, my child. That’s very good. Use that throat as Sothis intended,” she encouraged.
The movements of her hand were less guidance and further forcefulness instead, practically grinding Letha’s face down against Byleth’s pelvis. Forced tilts and cants of her head prodded and stirred him against her esophagus’ walls.
Unlike the two women, he was not utterly hairless around there– neatly trimmed rather than grown wild, but still. The coarse, barely-curling hairs aggravated Letha’s nose and pushed her towards a sneeze that would never come. Not while Byleth’s cock was inside her spasming throat– not while the familiar taste of his shaft was on her skin. It was rough going, but the discomfort gave her something to focus on. It was new to her, letting it go on.
But still, it didn’t feel foreign . It was not unwelcome. Beneath the harshness of Rhea’s treatment, the traces of Letha’s nervousness and unease evaporated. With every second she spent choking on her twin brother’s cock, she became further enamored with the lurid situation. The most holy of holies on Fódlan discovering their secret, using it as leverage for such debauchery… an older woman who seemed kind and motherly in public, but was anything but in private.
“Do you like that, my son?” Rhea asked, low and intimate, yet crisp and clear to Letha’s ears over the sound of her own struggle. “Does it please you, having someone fuck your cock with your sister’s face?”
“Yes,” Byleth growled out.
“Good,” Rhea laughed again, and though Letha could not see– indeed, even were her eyes able to lift, they were now tightly clenched –she could feel the shift forward. She could picture clearly how Rhea’s other hand slipped around Byleth’s shoulders, drawing him forward by the back of his head. Their kiss. The wet trade of their tongues…
A kiss without her, right above. The earlier hint of a throb that Letha felt became a constant, her cunt tight and excited from the strident stimulation coursing through her. She was never too gentle when her nails clawed at Byleth, but at all other times there was still some restraint there– not so, not today, not on his thighs. Amidst all else, she moved her tongue as she could along him, egging him on until that kiss broke.
Until her lip-lock on the base of his cock broke, too, and her head came surging up, reeled in carelessly by Rhea. Letha surfaced like a diver on the verge of drowning, gasping raspily, reddened face streaked with tears she hadn’t even felt. As her eyes blinked to try and clear away the damp blurr, she was robbed of the reward of her brother’s face, given instead another twist of Rhea’s hand, brought into another kiss. Rhea brought the taste of her brother’s spittle into it, and Letha gave away a fresh sample of his cock in turn.
“Such a dedicated little slut. So devoted to your little brother. Very touching,” Rhea breathed at its end, Letha given zero chance to catch her breath before she was going low again. That left her a touch dizzy, and that just made all the pleasure she found in the discomfort buzz stronger. She gave soft yelps as the Archbishop wielded her brother’s cock for fresh slaps, all the more sloppy for how wet her throat left it– and then Letha found her loving lips planted to his stem, bordering balls.
Letha licked and kissed there with every ounce of strength she could. Not much– plenty left in reserve, so to speak, but there was only so much she could take to the field at once. Rhea followed up above her, taking Byleth’s proud purple crown into her holy lips without shame, loud moans muffled but pure in their lust. The way she went at him was in line with how Letha liked to suck him– sloppy but not deep, head bobbing and tongue working overtime.
With the thinnest wish to be touching herself, Letha pushed herself that little bit harder, that little bit lower– though Rhea kept her grip tight, she wasn’t as controlling, not while handling Byleth’s cock. Her tongue freely washed over her brother’s balls, still plump-full despite their earlier indiscretion. From that, they tasted of stale sweat still. A new taste to her senses, but one Letha loved all the same, for it was of him, the man she loved most in the world. She kissed them thanks for all the cum given to her throughout their misbegotten sins, then suckled upon one until the time came.
Until it was time for him to come.
Both women recognized it right away. Letha hadn’t spent much time on her brother’s balls prior, but there was a distinct twitch there, and one in his cock too, beneath Rhea’s lush, cock-loving lips. Byleth grunted, and that was enough to set the Archbishop racing, popping off him with a lewd exhale, hurriedly forcing Letha to raise her head, abandoning dick to use both hands to hold her steady.
Messy and disgraced, the twin sister didn’t look her objective best when she went cheek-to-cheek with Rhea. She looked distressed, like she’d been bawling– and to an extent, she had. But to her brother’s eye, she had never looked sexier than when an older woman in a position of authority dominated them both. His nut was a certainty, but it was Letha’s degradation that pushed him hard over the edge.
Byleth finally took a matter into his own hands– a single matter, and what mattered most. He grasped his cock as he let out his growling bellow, steadying it in a rush, erupting tip aimed hastily at the broad target their sensual faces offered. Rhea had her eyes closed but her mouth open, smiling like a vixen who had cornered a hen; Letha’s eyes were closer to slits, panting, disgraced.
To call his release ropes would be to do it a disservice. Only metaphorical ropes were in play, and they had been cut while torqued tight to unload his cockapault’s barrage of molten grapeseed. Letha, who had seen so little, lucked out in her misfortune. In the first seconds of unleashing, Byleth laced her dark lashes with his thick nut. If it got in her eyes, she was already far-gone enough that she didn’t feel its sting. Then it criss-crossed along her cheek and made a vaster mess across Rhea’s flushed face, a good portion finding her tongue and lining her upper lip.
From there though, it kept coming, with less semblance of aim. Wild, heavy bursts, splattering both messy, leaving no corner of either woman’s face untouched– and showing no respect for any sanctity deserved by their hair. Both teal and mint found themselves lined white. Both women flinched back at the earliest impacts, but soon Rhea was giggling with delight at the excess, and Letha moaned unrepentant.
When it ended, almost three-quarters of a minute after it started, Byleth sagged back, panting hard. The painted pair between his legs turned upon each other, Letha naturally drawn to her brother’s seed, but Rhea a bit more willful and aware of her immorality. The kiss that followed was only intuitive to them both, the logical next step to all their illogical behavior– Rhea wrapped her arms tight around Letha’s head and shoulders, who in turn squeezed herself tight to the Archbishop’s tits.
‘Twas a total kiss, in the same sense as total war: everything went towards it, everything fueled it. For all the times that their tongues mixed and tangled, trading teaspoons and tablespoons worth of Byleth’s nut, they also ran wicked along each other’s faces, licking away everything they could, letting nothing go to waste.
For most men, it would have been a fine feast for the eyes in the wake of a draining moment, an ego-stroke unlike any other. But Byleth was not most men, and never had been, and not just for his difficulty with emotions. He was different … different in ways that Letha could not appreciate, having only known her brother, and having never wanted another. His cock did not soften, and while the women made out and bonded over their shared love of his seed, he stroked it, growling.
“Mnnnn…” the Archbishop moaned saliciously, at last breathless as she broke the kiss with Letha. Her eyes lidded open and she smirked, a hint of cum still present at the corner of her mouth, sloppy left-overs. “What a terrible appetite you have for something so wrong, my child… something tells me that those aren’t the lips you want his cum in.” There was both malice and playfulness in her voice.
Poor Letha struggled to recover, not once given the chance. “U-uhhn,” she groaned and swayed, blinking again, still a stray glob of cum keeping her right eye sealed. “Th, that’s, ummm…”
Too true, was what it was, for all the harm it could do. It was not like she had been honest with her brother earlier, about it being a safe day– she just hadn’t been dishonest about it. Letha was well past tracking such things. She willfully ignored it as much as she could. If it happened, then… she could play ignorant.
“Is that why you fuck your brother?” Rhea pushed, and she pushed in too, lapping up that eyelid-coating cum fiendishly. “Is your womb so hungry for his taste? Do you long for an excuse to leave the field of battle behind… to waddle around, fat with his brat?” she asked, her hands on Letha’s nubile, voluptuous form turning rough once more.
“Nnnno, that’s… nnnnooo,” Letha whimpered, and that was just a flat-out lie. Fitting, for when Byleth struck, his first move after separating them was to send his sister laying flat-out on her back, Rhea shoved to the side briefly, startled and indignant. Letha gasped out shrilly, still breathless, at a point now where she could no longer remember what having enough air even felt like. It was a haphazard spill her body formed, legs wide, arms up and out.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Rhea started to deride, only to find Byleth grabbing her again, rough but pure-focused. By hair and arm, she found herself manhandled harsher than she herself treated Letha, brought up and shoved into the very position she had the elder twin prior, but in service to that twin. “–Oh!” she gasped out, and that affront began to flash out of her as she realized what was coming next. “Oh, you rebellious little boy…”
Face down, back arched, ass up. As quick as she had her bearings, Rhea was playing into it with a seasoned whore’s professional expertise. Her arch redoubled, and her face went in further, right to Letha’s waiting cunt, petite and so much more shy than Rhea’s own.
At the same time, her knees spread wide and her hips rose, giving the perfection that was her ass an empathetic wiggle. Its bubbly globes parted from the spread and shook from the waggle, exposing her most intimate places to Byleth’s eyes. If only he knew that he was the first man in millenia to be given such an opportunity– nay, allowed to take it.
(If only he knew … it would drive Rhea mad, how little appreciation he would be able to show for it.)
“Ready to fuck again already, my son?” Rhea asked with a devil’s amour in mind, sparing a quick look over her shoulder at him, milking the way he stared at her waiting holes, her bold pussy sodden, puckered ass unsuspecting. “Impressive,” she purred, “but don’t overdo it. Take a moment to warm me up–”
He did not. Byleth took his position without pause, all animalistic focus in the heat of the moment. Not on his knees behind Rhea, but squatting behind her, then over her– one leg up along the women’s sides. With it planted, he had the leverage he needed to reach down and grab Rhea’s hair as she had Letha’s, forcing her head down amidst a groan. “Eat her,” he demanded coolly, despite all the ardor present.
“Given your choice of cunt… you choose mine first?” Rhea let out a pained laugh, shaking salt over a wound unmade: “You would fuck me first, over your baby-thirsting sister? Oh, you wretched boy–” she taunted.
Then her lips were made to meet Letha’s eager pussy, soaking as it was, still leaking with hints of the earlier creampie. The forced mouth-smack made Rhea grunt briefly, but she complied with the man who presumed correctly she would submit to him. Back when sex was a more common activity for her, the woman who once was not Rhea had not been picky over her partner’s equipment. Holes and poles, she enjoyed both.
And Letha would quickly come to enjoy that skill, already desperately aroused by everything leading up to the moment. As Rhea began to treat her right , Letha began to whimper, hands grasping at the pure white duvet beneath; her hips twisted and squirmed, rolling to push herself closer to the source of her pleasure.
The Archbishop’s skills were rusty, but foundational, stacked upon natural talent and thirst. Quick, teasing drags of her tongue over the cum-leaking slit all led up to more intense moments upon Letha’s sensitive clit. Always sensitive– but in that room, atop that bed, finally tasted by someone other than Byleth, by someone who knew how to do it? It would be too much, too quickly.
A more human woman than Rhea would have been disrupted by the feeling of Byleth blind-dragging his cock into position, briefly bullying at her asshole in search of her more prepared cunt. It only had her hips rolling, helping align him with the cock-starved hole below.
Once there, he pushed an inch in, testing, feeling the first twat that wasn’t part of his family– if only either of them knew where Sitri’s green hair came from– where their green hair came from, beneath the dye used to disguise them. Learning then and there though, they wouldn’t have wanted to stop.
For all her cunt’s outward-facing need, Rhea was surprisingly tight around Byleth, and she deliberately squeezed herself tighter, her smug face hidden between Letha’s thighs. Down there, her hands shifted slowly to find purchase and participate in their lewd play. At first, she went for Letha’s cunt, two fingers easing in, curling and rubbing with the knowledge necessary to immediately set her to spasming.
As the older twin began to shake and cry out, hole flooding with thin female cream, Rhea retreated her fingers from the won battle-line to instead flank. Letha’s ass was far tighter than her pussy, and the height of her quick orgasm was the perfect time to take advantage of that. Her voice peaked into a shriek, legs shuddering uncontrollably, padded thighs and heavy tits rippling with startled ecstasy. One of her hands ripped away from the sheets and grabbed at the back of Rhea’s head, holding it down tight, furiously so.
Simultaneously, Byleth had abandoned just testing . As if operating with a prenatural sense of each other’s movements, he had released the Archbishop’s hair, paving the way for Letha’s grasp there. Both of his hands grasped Rhea’s prime buttocks, spreading them much wider as he pistoned himself in deep. She took his rough thrust in stride, delighted by his thickness and depth– so much cock, more than any other human she had sampled.
Unsurprising, given what he possessed. He slammed into her with fierce pumps, his saliva-wetted balls slapping down on her snatch’s extroverted lips, clapping upon her clit in a pussy-jolting reward. Letha’s pussy muffled the raw but throaty grunts that the pumps pushed out of Rhea, who ignored the temptation to just drink deep of the leak to keep her pace, her focus– to keep the orgasm running, to make it roll on. The two fingers callously cranking into Letha’s ass only added to that.
Everything was going as Rhea wanted it to, as she hoped it would– but the plan to bed both Eisner twins? It was not amongst Rhea’s better plans , which tended to operate on timelines measured in decades if not centuries. ‘Twas a moment of horny-brained impulse, frankly pulled out of her ass, without much in the way of consideration.
Considerations like… the boy might fuck better than she would expect.
That was fine, though. She could take him.
But what she couldn’t take was his cock rubbing up against her cervix. No one had ever reached there , and Byleth knew just how to treat it. He didn’t slam up against her womb’s fortress-gate, slowing on the thrusts that reached it, massaging it before pulling back. The first time she felt it, Rhea felt something drop in her stomach– surprise and fear over being caught off-guard, feeling true vulnerability as her body gave an abrupt shake. She was not used to being vulnerable . And in short order, Byleth’s focus on rubbing there had her locked in that strange new place, burying her conscious mind in fuzzy, foggy amatory.
The Archbishop realized he was going to make her cum. Sooner than she wanted to. Much, much harder than she expected to. And that urged her to turn the situation on its head, but it was too late for that. Her quivering limbs did not cooperate with any stirring that didn’t involve clapping her ass back against his thrusts, milking more contact from his cervix, her cunt convulsing. The occasional break of one of his ass-grasping hands to spank her didn’t help, either–
Nor did Letha’s hand keeping her head forced against her cunt. Both of them were there now, and Rhea couldn’t bring herself to stop the repeated motion of her wrist if she tried, lusting for more of the spill that tainted her lips.
It was all a moment of horny-brained impulse, frankly pulled out of her ass– for Letha too. “S-switch, Byleth, SWITCH,” she wailed out for him, oft-recited, never a command, always a request, sometimes begged. The elder sister had not had her fill of Rhea’s ass-play, as much as she wanted to both pay the favor forward and take Rhea down a peg. … not that she minded the cruelty she had been warned of, now, but if she wanted to be a part of their bedroom, she would have to learn to play in accordance with their rules.
Even before Letha made her wanton wail, though, he sensed it coming, realized what was being done to her, and began to move accordingly. Byleth’s next withdrawal broke the established pattern. He popped out of Rhea, leaving her pulsating twat gaped, and adjusted dangerously for his intent. No hands, no guidance, just raw, feral need for rut.
No warning. No warm-up. A bit foolish, but in their private play? Byleth and Letha had found she always left him wet enough for when the call to switch came– no hole had gone unfilled on their first night together. The only reason that Rhea hadn’t seen Byleth break his sister’s ass was a lack of time.
His cock slammed home into that unsuspecting hole, impulse pumped into her ass rather than pulled out. It did not break Rhea’s ass. It broke the woman as a whole, seasoned on all manner of sex save one– she had never felt much interest in having someone plough her back there . Millenia of anal virginity, shattered in an instant. Her throat squealed itself raw after a moment of initial shock, the most satisfying music that Letha had ever heard.
Byleth fucked that ass just the way he wanted to fuck his twin sister’s hours prior. He did not hold back, save in the sense his hands kept Rhea’s toned, thick ass held back from clapping his shaft. With heedless savagery, he hilted again and again within Rhea’s deflowered asshole, balls slapping heavily down on the whole of her pussy.
Amidst her muffled squeals, Rhea spasmed and writhed beneath the Eisners, torrid joy unlike any other running wild throughout her. It became too much for her to eat Letha’s, and those fingers abandoned ass to grasp desperately at Letha’s thigh. Her hips dropped, and the three-way position they had ran in broke altogether once they were on the bed– but Byleth kept on her ass, fucking it in its prone state. Letha’s rolling multiple orgasms tapered, but she mindlessly rode what high they had achieved, thick, soft thighs tight around the Archbishop’s head, grinding mindlessly at her mouth.
Then for Rhea, nothing came– rolled back eyes and a moment of utter nothingness as her body caught the breadth of her twat’s convulsions, gushing a bliss-ridden mess upon her duvet. Her squirting peak was not accompanied by Byleth matching it with a bust of his own, however; neither twin realized the Archbishop had gotten off hard enough to black out.
He reamed her ass past the point of devastation; it was a sure thing that Rhea would spend the next day in seclusion, claiming illness rather than soreness. A few ropes of his seed snapped out and drew lanes throughout the hole, but he held the rest back, fucking harder for it.
What dragged her back out was the jolt of having him slam back into her pussy, cervix-deep, holding tight against it and sending her toes to iron-tight curls as he inseminated her. It was every bit as thick and wild a blow-up as the previous, simply contained in a tighter, narrower space.
For all the centuries it had been since a man came inside her, Rhea didn’t need a recent comparison to know how different it was– inside her Nabatean cunt, it burned fiercely with the Flame promised by the Crest neither twin knew Byleth possessed. She felt tears on her cheeks, and let them run freely; they might have started from her being overwhelmed by orgasm, but the joy and relief of having proof that all was as it should be!
Those tears, Rhea dried on Letha’s thighs as she recovered. She enjoyed a moment of respite then, as disappointing as it was to lose the feeling of Byleth ruining her pussy– he rose over her, squatting over Letha’s head now.
“Brother,” the sister panted with shaking excitement. “I love you so much– glrhk! ” Rhea enjoyed the music of another face-fuck as much as Letha enjoyed the Archbishop’s screams. It was a rare surprise for Letha herself, who Byleth had never initiated such a thing on. She gave over to his dominance freely for all the switching their love-life had been built on.
When she had regained enough of herself to slowly push up to hands and knees, Rhea gazed amorously at the sight of Byleth’s backside, his bouncing balls and the cock impaling his sister’s throat. “So much more than I ever hoped for you to be,” she whispered to herself, unheard, and then crawled forth to rejoin the duo to make a trio once more. Already, she had intended to never lose Sitri’s spawn again– and this all ensured she would keep them even closer.
What they did together in the shadows would bind them all the tighter.
Rhea’s lips and tongue, seeking ass and balls– they meant well, to show appreciation, to assert control. But from their first worshipful touch, they were sparking something more in Byleth. Within seconds, he was yanking out of Letha, an abrupt burst of his nut renewing the facial that Rhea had helped clean away earlier. Not to the same huge degree, but enough to leave her face laced unmistakably white, adding to the drip in her hair too.
Then, as Letha was left gasping, giggling drunkenly on ecstasy, it was Rhea’s turn for some of the same: Byleth reached back to snatch her green locks, twisting tight, growling as she groaned with surprise and a hint of perverse glee. He pivoted over Letha to face Rhea, and revenged upon her more of what she had done to Letha.
Ignoble as it was, Rhea took a sincere pride in the debauchery laid upon her– cheeks and brow slapped with cock until it left marks. Her mouth gasped in surprise, of course, and that was only an opportunity for her throat to be ravished next. At the very least, Rhea handled that better than Letha had, such as she could. Her tongue coasted along Byleth’s balls as he fucked her throat raw, obscene bulges visible in her normally graceful neck.
The abrupt whirlwind of it all cut short as quickly as it became. In stark ignorance to the reality of refractory periods other men were burdened with, Byleth popped free of Rhea’s loving maw and struck the whole of her face white again. She managed to slip in and take a mouthful of his seed before he exerted control again. Well-fucked in every matter, Rhea was already deeply satisfied. Much more so was her warm affection for the way Byleth threw around his power and potency like a draconic tyrant.
All too fitting. Physically broken but not without will, Rhea grunted and tittered through several more cock slaps before he shoved her away– and she took the opportunity to crawl into the prime location awaiting her.
Letha spent her short reprieve panting on her back, licking her lips and recovering as Rhea had just prior. She was happy to return earlier favors, once Rhea was seated atop her face, hips and legs and knees all moved to give Letha the choice hole first, cream-filled, lapping up every bit of it that leaked away from the Archbishop’s shattered sanctuary.
“Help yourself, my child…” Rhea rasped greedily, satisfied but never beyond more . “Help yourself while your brother completes you.” Unlike the Archbishop, however, Letha struggled to carry on once she felt her brother– between her thighs, spreading her legs, pushing himself back into the familiar hole that knew his shape so well. Her tongue, already lacking expertise back there , grew clumsy.
It did not help that feminine hands, jealous and cruel of Letha’s more buxom figure, began to squeeze and pinch at breast and nipple alike, slapping and twisting— pain already ushering her towards a new chain of orgasms, even before Byleth was in . And then he was, and there was little more that Letha could do but mew dearly for all that was being done to him, in wordless plea for what she wanted, what she needed .
Beneath her cum-streaked face, Rhea flashed Byleth a depraved grin, unseen since the day that Saint Seiros had reclaimed what King Nemesis had stolen from her people. A shift and twerk of her hips put her spunk-filled cunt right atop Letha’s moaning mouth. Positioned there, she began to grind herself down with glib disregard for any comfort Letha might want; if given the choice between the uncomfortable use of her face and peace, Letha would have chosen what Rhea decided for her.
“There is but one thing left for you to receive my blessing in full. Fuck your little slutty sister like the whore she is, my son…” Rhea urged luridly, tongue lapping up some cum from the side of her mouth. “Fill her up with all the sperm you have left to give her. Give her what she truly needs… give her the baby she wants so badly, and I’ll tell the world what it is: an immaculate conception,” she promised.
Although Byleth said nothing more to Rhea, his eyes and body spoke volumes: he stared hard into the priestess’ eyes, pushing slow and deep, claiming that familiar place inside his sister once more. His hands gripped the womanly width of Letha’s hips tightly, unable to let go until his goddess-given duty was done, matched by the unrelentingly tight quiver within his sister’s twat.
He did not fuck Letha the way he fucked Rhea, all hard, full-length thrusts. He fucked his sister deeply. Fiercely, but slower, measured, expressing the love he couldn’t put into words. She was his one and only… but they both knew from that day forward, the most powerful woman in Fódlan would be an accessory to their incestuous crime. A very welcome one.
It would be long minutes before the culmination came, heralded early by the shaking wrap of long legs around Byleth’s waist, toes curled tight enough that they risked breaking tiny bones; long minutes where Letha could do nothing but swallow cum, take cock, and feel utter bliss past what she knew prior.
Her ongoing peak hitched high once she felt her brother twitch inside the cunt that captured it, womb ready to receive his familiar spunk. As it filled her uterus so thoroughly, Letha felt its startling warmth– but to her, who knew no other cock and never would, it was just her brother’s love, expressed in its most pure fashion. Only once she felt herself full did Letha feel complete , and only then did Rhea begin to whimper with joined ecstasy, sensing the Flame insemination even outside herself.
Of course, that did not mean that Byleth was finished. He pulled back from her deepest depths and flooded the whole of her twat, leaving Letha’s gaping cunt brim-full, growling his contentment, leaving her shaking sweaty beneath him. Rhea, eyes rolling and crying out, didn’t even realize he had wrenched her bent-over and head down until it was long done, cum-sloppy cock spearing into her mouth.
That face-fuck led into their next act, and their next after that.
His stamina had always seemed limitless, but given two women, he could finally put that to the test. In no way was his potency found wanting, for all they did together– ended at last with him sprawled in the bed’s center, back propped on pillows, their faces met together over his cock. One final, thick and busting glaze flashed over their faces, another opportunity for the two women to lick, kiss and suck each other clean.
… then, it was at last finished. They had started in the early afternoon, but it was well past the hour dinner was served in the mess hall, and none of them had much appetite for anything but each other. Both Letha and Rhea curled themselves close to Byleth’s sweaty chest, their legs a tangle of six over each other, one arm each across his body.
“And with that… your union is blessed,” Rhea whispered faintly, with a smile darkly loving, knowing they would always be hers. “And my bedroom door is forever open to you both. At any time, at any hour.” In the coming months, they would test the limits of that offer, and find that it superseded even Rhea’s most holy duties– eventually, they would learn that their union had become her most holy duty, and not just perverse play.
The Eisner twins knew no regrets, only love.