Titillations and bewilderments

Lucas could not believe what was happening.

He did not expect this. Not in the slightest.

His eyes were glued to Ophelia's voluptuous figure as her dress dropped before him, almost like a mark of the timeless moment.

The bright skin of her huge breasts appeared to almost shine, their malleable mass enticing and inviting for contact. The cleavage seemed unending, diving the two succulent masses constrained by the scarlet-colored bra made with a fancy lining. Despite being made for her size, with large cups and thick strands, it was tightly pulled, as showed by a slight amount of boob that seemed to spill upward. The woman's stomach, overshadowed by the expansive bust, was taut and slick, with graceful lines that constrained her waist.

Looking slightly lower, he saw her big derriere, its bright skin contrasting with the red of her panties, sitting atop toned, full thighs. Her alluring legs, shaven and smooth, were capped with small, polished shoes on her graceful feet.

'It worked...' Lucas realized. 'She doesn't even look unnerved or... suspicious... but that makes me wonder... how far does that go?'

He gawked at her momentarily, stunned into complete silence that filled the room. Then, however, he heard her grunt and noticed that she shuffled on her feet.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, lightly lifting a hand. Her face showed a slight frown.

"...n-nothing," Lucas replied, gazing away and stepping toward his chair. Yet, the sight of Ophelia's body was now seared into his memory, and its immediate effect on him could be felt by the growing tightness in his pants. "Let's sit down if everything's alright."

"Yes," he heard her respond, her voice strangely... passive. "...pervert," she murmured, the voice barely audible.

"???" Lucas looked at her briefly, unsure if he heard the last word right. Immediately, he noticed that Ophelia's gaze snapped to meet his, but its previous direction seemed aimed somewhat downward if only a little. Her face showed barely any emotion. However, the corner of her lips twitched strangely.

As they sat down, a few seconds of silence passed. Lucas felt his heart beat thunderously as he shot a glance at Ophelia. Seeing the woman adjusting her position slightly, yet doing nothing to actively cover her chest. The sight sent a pang of curiosity into Lucas's mind. Using the moment of silence, he tried to analyze this outcome.

'Seems like she accepts the rules and doesn't think them strange, but... she does seem to react with more vigor to the aftermatch... but I wonder... could I make her behavior as a whole change with just rules...?'

"Well?" Ophelia's voice suddenly pierced the air. "Are you going to make me wait forever?"

Lucas grunted, clearing his throat. Doing his best not to look down at Ophelia's face, he spoke, "S-Sorry, I was just a little lost in thought."

The silver-haired beauty squinted, a tinge of annoyance gracing her face. She gazed at him, then at the table, and then at her hand on the table. She scratched the wood's surface with a nail, impatience emanating from the gesture.

Noticing that stalling wouldn't do him well, he sighed. "Well, how did you like meeting Princess Seraphina?"

Ophelia's brow twitched. "It was..." her mouth twisted for a blink. "...different from what I imagined. I was partly expecting that it'd be the same as when it was just me," she stated, slightly distanced. "But instead, I kept on thinking I'm just an extra for you two," Ophelia frowned, giving her brother a slightly ferocious look.

Lucas swallowed nervously. However, his reaction was only partly due to his sister's words. The major part of that was the still-dawning realization of the situation.

'Don't look down... don't look down...' he berated himself repeatedly, but the temptation grew increasingly difficult to resist by the minute.

Ophelia was before him in just her underwear. Her huge boobs and shapely buttocks only had a thin layer of cloth on them. This was the closest he'd ever been to seeing her naked. The thought of nearly seeing this bombshell naked was like a week's worth of all other excitements condensed to a single moment.

But at the same time, it was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels. She was his sister. Just thinking about her in this way felt wrong. Maybe, if it were someone else - a random woman he had no connections to - he'd feel more at ease, but in this situation, the reality of his taboo thoughts dawned on him.

"Lucas!" Ophelia's voice, tinged with anger, suddenly brought him out of his ponders. "My eyes are up here. Where are you looking?!" her hand clenched before she hit the table lightly with it.

"!"

His eyes snapped upward as he realized his gaze had lingered on his sister's assets for several seconds. Noticing the ire written in her blue eyes, he swallowed nervously.

"I-I just... I mean..." he stammered slightly, his thoughts almost having ground to a halt. "The r-rules state it's alright if I look at you, no matter where my eyes end up," he blurted out, the reality of his own words catching to him a second or two later.

'Did I really just say that?'

The pang of nervousness surged down his spine. That, however, was quenched as the silver-haired woman deflated in her seat, her hand relaxing somewhat.

"...even so, focus on the talk some more," his sister schooled him briefly, but her eyes looked sideways. Faint pink graced her neck, and she rubbed the place as though trying to hide it. "If we're talking, I don't want to talk to a wall."

'...this worked?' Lucas almost choked on his breath. Her violet eyes wandered down briefly before he looked back at his sister's face. 'But she seems... a little unnerved. Even if she accepts the rule, it doesn't mean her reaction to its effects will be filtered through that.' he realized. A new, faint thought appeared in the back of his mind before he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I'll focus more. What were you saying?"

Ophelia looked back at him. Lucas couldn't help but notice that faint hesitance was etched into her features before her expression straightened.

"I kept feeling left out of something," she stated. "You talked with Princess Seraphina constantly. Most of it was definitely not translation," Ophelia added, shuffling in her spot. "What were you talking about?"

Lucas sighed. He knew that Ophelia was observant enough to notice. Being a Mage wasn't just about innate talent, after all. Proper insight into one's abilities, the understanding of their affinity with certain types of magic, and the requirements to break through more advanced concepts were long and demanding. Yet, Ophelia already was a 5th-circle Mage. At her age, she was nothing short of a genius for that accomplishment.

That was why he nodded lightly. There was no point hiding the truth.

"A bit of small talk, a bit of large talk," he shrugged, feeling a pang of bitterness on his tongue. "But seriously, you're going to just nag me about that? I've stuck my neck out for you, and you're complaining that I talked with Princess Seraphina a little more? It's not like I didn't translate anything you've said."

Ophelia squinted, suspicion written on her face. "...I suppose you're right," she said, her tone marginally softer as though Lucas's words made her realize something. "Yet, she seemed... quite happy to see you. I've yet to see her like that," she admitted, scanning her brother. "Really, what were you speaking about?"

Lucas remained silent for a prolonged moment. His eyes scanned his sister briefly, making an obvious pause on the cavernous divide of her cleavage. He noticed it shuffle and jiggle gently as Ophelia moved in her seat, clearly aware of the staring. Yet, she didn't so much as even sigh. The only indication of her awareness was that once he looked up, he noticed her staring sideways, an unknown emotion dancing in her eyes.

A strange thought suddenly surged in Lucas's mind. Looking at his status briefly, he noticed that he had enough Willpower for four mental spells. The brief ponder of whether he should do it was quelled almost instantly. He was already too deep to stop now. Besides... there was a certain sense of justice lurking within him. For everything Ophelia had made him go through, this was barely even scratching the surface.

He sent two instantly.

The first one was a simple spell.

<I enjoy being stared at by my brother.>

The second one, however, was far more nuanced. It was an idea that sparked at some point when he ventured into Ophelia's Dreamscape. To be precise, it was when he had touched the doors leading to her memories. They sept with faint emotions, lacking particular thoughts yet being expressive enough to give him a preview of the memories. That was why, after careful consideration, a new idea emerged.

Did a Subliminal Guidance specifically have to be a thought?

Ophelia's memories were essentially emotion-driven, with thoughts being additions made from the very same feelings. Analyzing his memories to the best of his ability, Lucas could conclude that as far as he understood it, the same applied to his mind. Therefore, the logical conclusion was that not only did Subliminal Guidance allow for a non-thought-specific command, but it even incentivized it.

Therefore, he did his best to construct something that could be packaged into a spell. It was just basic emotions that he could confidently say he had a good grasp on, bundled together with the sensation of being stared at and the recognition of himself. If it could be transcribed into words simply, it'd be: Being stared at + Lucas + pleasant. Or, at least, that's what he hoped it would be like.

The spells connected immediately, and Ophelia's pliable mind soaked them like dry cloth would water. In particular, the second one seemed rather welcomed into the confines of her mind.

Ophelia didn't show any response for a long second. Rather, the way she moved in her chair suggested that she wanted to cover herself up slightly.

But then, her hands shifted, obstructing less of her chest. Her posture turned marginally more relaxed, and as another second or two passed, she was completely at ease, even as his eyes strayed to her figure. Almost unexpectedly, he saw Ophelia move, but it seemed that she very slightly leaned in her position as though subconsciously giving him a better view of her cleavage.

Lucas's heart thumped with redoubled strength. There was no way this could've worked this easily, and yet, Ophelia's subtle reaction was unmistakable.

He felt his manhood stir at the sight, the constraining feeling almost unpleasant. He twitched in his seat before clearing his throat, reminding himself of Ophelia's question.

"W-Well, it's nothing much. Just discussed some books," he said, reminding himself of the contents of his talk with Seraphina. 'It's not like I can just say we were gossiping about her...'

"The ones about Western Sweep?" the voluptuous woman raised her brow.

"A-among a few other titles, yes," he shrugged, focusing on his sister's face.

His silver-haired sister sighed lightly. Bending back and then forth a little, she caused her boobs to jiggle in the confines of the bra, the motion enticing and lively. Lucas's eyes inadvertently ventured down to see the spectacle. Quickly snapping them up, he met Ophelia's gaze, and his breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his temple as he expected her to say something with annoyance. However, rather than annoyance, his sister looked at him with a somewhat neutral look. In fact, he could've sworn he saw a tiny spark somewhere in the back of her blue iris before she blinked.

Lucas felt his mind work automatically. Before anything more happened, he formed a new mental spell. While it was a wordless suggestion, its main gist revolved around 'Ophelia wanting to present herself to Lucas.'.

This, as well, connected almost instantly.

Ophelia raised a hand briefly. Lucas felt his heart freeze for a split second. However, as she lifted it further to her face, he noticed that she swiped a newfound bead of sweat that had formed on her temple. Then, she slowly fixed her hair, getting it out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. As her motions continued, Lucas noticed that his sister moved her shoulders. The gesture looked rather casual, yet the wobble of her chest seemed almost exaggerated.

'Is it... is this even real...?' he pondered for a second before snapping himself out of his ponder. '...one last push. One last push will prove it all.'

"Ophelia," he said, noticing that she almost flinched, almost as though he snapped her out of her thoughts. "I... there is one more rule."

She frowned slightly but didn't even voice a question as her posture relaxed, her hands finding their way to the table.

"It's alright for any physical contact to happen between us in my room."

He watched the woman tense up for the faintest of blinks before her shoulders slumped slightly. She blinked almost as if in confusion. Then, she slowly exhaled.

"What books does Princess Seraphina like?" she asked, seemingly ignoring his words.

"I, uh..." Lucas closed his eyes briefly before he swallowed his uncertainties. "A bit of romance, a bit of adventure, I don't think she has any particular type she enjoys the most."

'It's now or never.'

Suddenly, he lifted himself from his seat. Seeing Ophelia's questioning look, he quickly walked to the drawer. Picking a parchment, he noticed the thin lines of black text converge into titles of books. It was the same piece he had given Floyd the previous day.

"Those are some of the titles she likes," he said, approaching the table. Taking a stand next to Ophelia's chair, he handed her the paper.

"...It's in Mins," she noticed, shifting it between her fingers.

"Yeah, let me grab an inkwell."

As he placed the item on the table, his sister immediately got hold of its feather. Pouring some ink into the inkwell, she checked the feather's state and prepared to write.

"You have horrible handwriting," Ophelia suddenly commented. "Like a hen with a claw."

"Well, I had very little calligraphy lessons."

"I'd have thought Teacher Seris taught you better nonetheless," the silver-haired woman answered bluntly, her hand moving with finesse and precision as Lucas translated the first title.

"Not everyone can have great handwriting," he retorted. However, his heart pulsed with power. Standing right behind Ophelia, he looked at the parchment from above her head. However, that was not everything he did. For but a moment, he looked into his sister's cleavage before continuing the translation. As he spoke, he lifted a hand gently, slowly putting it against the curtain of silver hair. Then, he slowly pushed, eventually reaching Ophelia's shoulder.

"Where is your hand going?"

"!" Lucas felt his heart skip a beat, his movements halting. "W-Why? Is it wrong?"

"...no," she replied with a pause. "It's alright if there's physical contact between us in your room," she continued, her tone shifting slightly. While it still sounded somewhat neutral, Lucas could faintly sense an edge of mechanical action, almost like she was voicing it to herself rather than him. "It's just... stiff."

"Stiff?"

"My shoulder," Ophelia continued. "You're touching a little sore spot."

Lucas gave her a brief hum in response. Just barely forcing his hands not to shake, he pushed his fingers into her skin with faint ****.

"Is this better?" he asked, trying to recall anything he ever read of massaging techniques. 'Tessa would be perfect for something like this...' "I know a thing or two about massaging."

"I..." Ophelia's voice died off. Her shoulders moved slightly, almost as though to shake his touch off. "I'm... not sure..."

Lucas already had an answer for that. Within his mind, a new mental spell surged.

<I like being touched by Lucas.>

The voluptuous woman immediately reacted. Her form relaxed marginally, and Lucas felt her give into his contact.

"...yeah," Ophelia said, her voice a little quieter. "It's better now."

'...it works. It really fucking works.'

Bolstered by the realization, the white-haired man moved his other hand to his sister's shoulder as well. Gently pressing into her soft skin, he felt her muscles tense up before relenting slightly. The way his silver-haired sister exhaled shallowly could be mistaken for a tired sigh. Yet, she did not make a single sound so as to voice a complaint.

As he continued to translate all the titles on the list, Lucas's actions became bolder, slowly descending her arms, crawling their length until he reached her elbows.

And then, he took a deep breath before going for the final push.

He felt the material of Ophelia's bra brush his fingertips. It gave in quietly as he slightly increased the pressure. His heartbeat spiked beyond what he thought possible as his palm soon descended, gently cupping his sister's breast.

Suddenly, he heard a faint gasp escape Ophelia's mouth. Her hand, still holding the feather, trembled a little, the perfectly smooth writing wobbling before she finished the word. However, she didn't voice a complaint, quickly steadying her hold. Rather, Lucas could sense that she slowly and subtly changed her position, presenting (and pressing) her chest further out, which had the obvious consequence. All the while, he noticed a faint blush spreading across the massive, soft masses.

He squeezed lightly, feeling Ophelia's breast envelop his hand, its heft shifting with the action.

"...Lucas."

His hand almost snapped away as she said his name. However, he instantly recognized that she didn't sound at all angry. "Y-Yes?"

"...your other hand."

"W-What?"

"You're giving me a massage, no? You forgot your other hand," Ophelia said.

Her words sent a wave of confusion down Lucas's gullet. Of all things, he didn't expect this.

But he swallowed all uncertainties. Now, it was time to ride the wave.

"Y-Yes, sorry."

He immediately lifted his other hand, clasping it around his sister's breast. With dainty, tender motions, he kneaded it, feeling the rising heat of the room. His erection was almost painfully throbbing, rubbing against Ophelia's chair, right next to her shoulder.

The silver-haired Mage took a deep breath. The fabric of her bra stretched against her mammaries. As it did so, Lucas suddenly felt her nipples rub against his palms, hard and standing at attention. He almost gulped audibly, sensing that Ophelia subtly moved. Her mouth let out a brief exhale. Her hand hovered over the parchment, the feather quivering. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse, the slight tremble in her body as she tried to remain still.

Lucas could not believe this. The spell had done its job, and Ophelia was allowing him to touch her without resistance, even seemingly enjoying it. This sight, this realization, made his mind surge with all the possibilities. If this much was doable with him just trying things out, how much could he push everything if he put his mind to it?

Faintly, he saw a picture in front of his eyes. His mother, once so proud and powerful, bowing her head and showing her respect to him as the rightful heir. Aveline, kneeling on one knee in a knight's vow as she promised to help and protect him. Ophelia, a slut befitting her body, gently caressing his cock and showering him with love. The lustful gazes he'd receive from the three. And right next to him, Nimue would stand--

...

Nimue.

...

Suddenly, at the thought of the black-haired elf, Lucas's mind surged with a different thought - a remembrance.

'You're not like that, young master.'

Her voice was etched into his mind, its gentle tone caressing him and bringing him clarity. Like a bolt out of the blue sky, Lucas focused on Ophelia in front of him. Looking at his hands still gently fondling her breasts, he felt the reality of the situation come crashing down on his shoulders.

...

'...what the hell am I doing...' he closed his eyes as he suddenly retreated his hands. 'This... is not who I am.'

He sensed that Ophelia shuffled in her seat slightly, subconsciously reacting to his action. Though she said not a word, he knew her body instinctively wanted to contact to persist a little more.

"W-Well, the l-list is done. I think it's time you get dressed and g-go. I'm sure you have more important things to attend to," he said, just barely keeping his composure.

Ophelia looked like she wanted to say something, but she just stared as Lucas quickly walked over to his seat and sat down.

"...brother," she started as he fixed his position. "What about the thing you wanted of me?"

"I-I..." Lucas stammered, not expecting the question. "I... truth be told, I haven't decided yet. I'll... I'll reach out to you when I figure it out."

Ophelia frowned, visible displeasure appearing on her face. However, the emotion almost immediately died. She sighed gently, the curtain of her silver hair moving with the motion. The contrast between its color and the red of her face and neck was clear as day.

"Just try not to disturb me when I'm busy," she said, her tone once again neutral. Then, she stood up and walked away. However, her motions seemed just a tinge exaggerated. Standing sideways to him, Ophelia slowly, tantalizingly bent down, making an obvious show out of how her breasts swung heavily like pendulums, which she further accentuated by taking a quick side step, almost as if getting a better hold of the material. Her ascent, too, was sluggish, every movement of her aimed at emphasizing the curvature she showed.

Deft silence filled the room.

Lucas glanced away, trying not to draw his attention toward his sister's bubble butt too much as she wobbled on her heels, causing all her curves to shimmy enticingly. Seconds drew out into a full minute, then into a second one, until finally, Ophelia clicked her boots on the ground and stepped toward the door, now clad in her dress once again. The parchment with the book titles was rolled up in her hand.

"...Ophelia," Lucas suddenly called out as she grabbed the handle.

"What?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Mother will not know of our deal, right?"

She scoffed. "I do keep my word, brother."

And then, she disappeared behind the door.

Lucas's fists clenched. Yet, he was unable to resist recalling his thoughts and events from just now on. The sensations he'd felt in the last few minutes were almost too much. The softness of Ophelia's massive breasts, the electrifying excitement that surged through his whole body, the imaginative picture he had of his family...

He wasn't sure what he felt. Guilt? Excitement? Fear? Anxiety? Anyone's guess would be as good as his at that moment.

Swallowing dry saliva, the young Stormrider did his best to relax in his seat. His breathing stabilized after some long seconds.

His mind was a mess.

Candidly, he wasn't sure what he should be feeling. Only one thing was painfully obvious to him.

His erection did not want to calm down in the slightest.

-Meanwhile-

Ophelia walked in the corridor, her steps echoing dully against the stone walls. She could feel the temperature of her body slowly go down, but the deep flush of her skin was still easy to spot even from a distance.

Her mind was in a haze. Looking at the parchment in her hand, she noticed that her writing had become somewhat... wobbly and uncertain.

Faintly, she recalled the pleasant sensations she'd felt back then. Confirming she was alone, Ophelia raised a hand to her breast. Although her bra and dress could conceal it, her large nipples were still erect, brushing against the material and sending pangs of pleasure through her very core. Yet, as she fondled one mass gently, she couldn't help but feel... a little disappointed. For some reason, when Lucas did it, it felt far better.

...

'...what did I just think?' Ophelia stopped in her tracks, shooting a look back into the corridor. Something about the thought and memory just now felt off to her, but... no. That couldn't be it. 'Whatever. I'm overthinking this.' she silently berated herself before resuming her stride. 'It's his room. Nothing strange happened...'

...

'...pervert.'

---

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