CHAPTER 44: ROSALUNA’S FIRST TONGUE WORK [R-18 CONTENTS!]

By the time I left Isadora’s hut and started walking the road back to Millbrook, the sky was already steeped in violet dusk. Night was coming fast, stretching its quiet hands across the horizon. Crickets had begun their steady chorus in the grass, and somewhere far off, an owl cried into the deepening dark.

The village lay just ahead, nestled in its familiar hollow, its windows dim and peaceful. I could still hear a few signs of life—murmured voices behind closed doors, a dog barking once, distantly—but most of Millbrook had already fallen into sleep.

Nothing much had changed here in the two years since I first began sneaking out late to meet Isadora in the woods. The same old stone paths. The same wooden shutters and ivy-covered fences. The same sleepy rhythm. Everything was still and calm, as if time had simply dozed off with everyone else.

But I was wide awake.

And soon, I would leave all of this behind.

This village life—quiet, predictable, kind—was never meant for me.

When I reached home, the lights were out. I stepped in as quietly as I could, the wooden floor creaking faintly beneath my boots. The house smelled like herbs, firewood, and old books—the same as always. Everyone was asleep. No surprise there. I had gotten used to returning late after my training sessions with Isadora.

In the dim light, I spotted a plate set neatly on the table, covered to keep warm. Isabella had done it again—left dinner for me without a word. She’d started doing that ever since I began disappearing into the forest at night. At first she was against but she gradually accepted my late trips to Isadora’s. She just made sure I had something warm to come home to in the end.

After a quick wash, I devoured the food—something stewed and simple but perfect. Then I padded softly back to my room, pulled out a thick book on magical beasts, and opened it to the page I’d marked days ago.

Isabella was sleeping soundly in the room next door. There was no reason to disturb her.

But then—three soft knocks came from the wall.

I paused, glancing toward the sound.

A smile crept across my face.

I should’ve known.

Closing the book with a quiet snap, I stood up, padded across the hall, and gently pushed open the door to my eldest sister’s room.

Rosaluna sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, moonlight spilling across her pale hair like a veil.

"You came back even later than usual," she said softly.

I stepped inside. "Sorry," I murmured. "I needed the extra time. I have to be ready for the academy."

Rosaluna finally looked up. Her expression shifted—just a flicker—but I saw it. That familiar mix of worry, pride, and the quiet ache she never quite managed to hide when I talked about leaving.

She had known about my plan from the beginning. She hadn’t liked it. Not because she doubted me—but because she knew what kind of world I was stepping into. Still, she never tried to stop me. Maybe she knew she couldn’t. Or maybe she respected that part of me too much to clip my wings.

"What did you learn from Isadora tonight?" She asked.

I gave a small shrug. "A lot. As usual."

Her eyes narrowed a little—not in anger, but in something quieter. "Are you hiding things from me again?"

There was a slight tremble in her voice, almost imperceptible. Her gaze drifted to her feet, and she stared at her toes, wiggling them.

I closed the door behind me with a quiet click.

"I wouldn’t hide anything from you, big sister," I said softly, letting my smile hang between us as I walked toward the bed.

"You already did," she said, her voice flat, but not cold—hurt, more than anything. She didn’t look at me, just stared toward the far wall, her bare toes peeking from under the hem of her gown.

I sat beside her, feeling the give of the mattress shift under our weight. "Perhaps," I admitted, "but I always come back to you. I promised, didn’t I?"

"I don’t know."

I leaned back a little, resting one arm behind me. "How was your day?"

"Boring. As usual," she murmured, chin resting on her knees.

I reached toward her foot—soft, pale, graceful, like the rest of her—and let my fingertips gently glide along the arch, teasing the delicate skin there. "Are you tired?"

"A bit," she said, her breath catching just slightly as my thumb found the sensitive bridge of her foot and began to caress slow, patient circles.

My voice dipped lower. "Do you want me to pleasure you, big sister?"

Rosaluna’s cheeks colored instantly, blooming with that tender crimson that always made my stomach tighten with want. Her lashes fluttered. I didn’t wait for an answer. I reached forward and pulled gently at her legs, coaxing them from her grasp.

"Come on. Lay back."

She hesitated—but only for a heartbeat. Then she slid down, lying against the cool linen sheets, her legs straightened, her arms tentatively folding above her chest. She looked at me, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

"You don’t need to feel shy about it," I said, leaning down to place a soft kiss just above her ankle. "You know you can call me even if you haven’t had nightmares."

"I... I know," she whispered. "But... I don’t know. It feels... embarrassing, somehow."

I smiled, and let my hands trail slowly up the slope of her calves, thumbs brushing the warmth of her skin beneath the cotton gown. "Nothing shameful about pleasure, sister. You deserve to feel good."

Over the last two years, the line between comfort and desire had blurred. It had started with her nightmares—those nights she’d tremble, call for me, her voice small with fear. I would hold her, soothe her, kiss her forehead... then, sometimes, her lips. The first time my tongue explored the soft folds between her thighs, she’d cried out like it was the first time she’d ever felt anything real. And she had needed it again... not always for fear, but sometimes just for longing.

And I’d always come. Gladly.

Her breath quickened as I peeled her gown slowly upward. First revealing her knees, then the smooth, unblemished skin of her firm thighs. I kissed them, one after the other, lips dragging softly over her warm skin, my hands stroking gently up and down, coaxing more breathy sighs from her throat.

"Hnnh... Harold..."

I nuzzled closer, the scent of her arousal already ghosting against my lips. Her thighs parted for me almost instinctively, and I lifted the gown higher, letting it bunch around her hips.

Her pussy lay bare beneath the folds of fabric, closed and soft and flushed with arousal, glistening faintly in the lamplight. Pale as the rest of her, with those perfect pink inner lips nestled tight, just slightly parted by the sheen of wetness that clung to them.

"You’re already wet, big sister..." I murmured, drawing a finger slowly down her slit.

"H-haah..." Rosaluna shuddered, hips twitching.

I lifted my finger to my lips, tasting her. Sweet. Clean. A hint of salt. It made my mouth water.

"You taste good. Again," I said, watching her reaction.

Her eyes locked onto mine, pupils dilated, and with trembling fingers she reached down to part herself further, two fingers gently spreading her slick folds.

"L... Lick me, little brother," she whispered.

My heart throbbed at the command. That voice—the way she asked for it, the way her gaze held mine even as her thighs quivered—it was enough to make me ache. My cock throbbed in my pants, but I ignored it for now. This moment was for her.

I bent down and kissed her pussy gently, lips brushing her outer folds like a reverent whisper. Then I licked a long, slow stripe up the length of her slit, tasting every bit of her slickness, pausing at the top to circle her clit with the tip of my tongue.

"Ah—hahh..." She gasped, hands clenching in the sheets.

I brought both hands to her thighs and held them open as I began to feast—tongue dipping in and out, lips suctioning softly around her clit, tongue flicking faster when she moaned louder. Her hips rocked up toward my face, every movement begging me to keep going, to not stop.

She was panting now, eyes half-lidded, flushed and helpless beneath me.

"Don’t stop—don’t stop, Harold—haaa—haan!"

I didn’t. I buried my tongue deeper, flattened it against her and lapped in slow, hungry sweeps. I could feel the tremble building in her thighs, her belly tightening, toes curling. She was getting close.

I sucked gently on her clit, drawing it between my lips, tongue flicking rhythmically.

"Nnh—haaaan, gods—!"

Her thighs clamped momentarily around my head as she came, back arching, a sweet high cry spilling from her throat. Her juices slicked my mouth and chin as I held her through it, lapping softly, tenderly, as her body quaked in waves.

I finally pulled back, licking my lips slowly, savoring the taste.

She lay there flushed, panting, her chest rising and falling beneath the rumpled nightgown. Her legs had relaxed, but her eyes were still hazy, her fingers idly playing with the edge of her gown.

"You... you always do that so well," she said breathlessly, voice small.

I leaned up, kissing her. "Because I love it. Because I love you."

Rosaluna’s hand floated down, fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed the side of my face in a moment of quiet, uncertain tenderness—but then she felt it. Her brows knit in confusion, glancing down. Something stiff and warm pressed insistently against her soft stomach through my pants, pulsing against her like it had its own desperate will.

Her lips parted as she looked down at it. My cock, already painfully hard, straining against its confines.

"It’s... again... inflated," she murmured with almost childlike bewilderment.

"Yes," I answered simply.

Her eyes flicked back to mine. "Doesn’t that... hurt?"

I met her gaze, breathing through clenched teeth. "It does."

It throbbed, aching with each beat of my heart. The sensation was maddening. Every movement of hers, every breath against me, made it worse. What I wanted was to drag her onto me, tear away the remaining layers of modesty she wore and fuck her until the ache in my cock was replaced by the wet heat of her cunt clenching around it. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Rosaluna bit her lip, hesitating. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her fingers twitching at her sides. "...Do you want me to help you?" She asked at last.

"How so?" I asked with faux confusion, raising a brow, though the truth was I had planted every step of this moment.

She didn’t know it, but I had been waiting. Planning. The book—left open ’by accident’ in my room, its pages dog-eared with notes about fellatio, pressure points, sensitivity curves, and techniques... all rewritten in my own hand to suit my narrative. It had gone missing, just as I intended, and now the seed had bloomed. In her mind, this was the noble thing to do. Relief for pain. A form of mercy. Just like I taught her.

"I... I lick you," she whispered, her eyes searching my face as though waiting for judgment.

"Lick me?" I said, letting my confusion linger just long enough to coax her deeper into the act.

"Yes. You were giving me pleasure before... to hide my pain... so now I’ll do the same for you." Rosaluna said it with a naïve righteousness, as if she had uncovered some profound logic. She was trying to be strong. Brave. Like a big sister ought to be.

"Y...You can, big sister?" I asked her, painting my expression with innocent hope as I slowly lifted myself up on my knees, the bulge in my pants brushing her waist again.

Rosaluna nodded. "Leave it to me."

With trembling hands, she reached down and slowly began undoing my pants. The zipper clicked down, tooth by tooth, and the pressure finally gave way. My cock sprang free—thick, veined, flushed dark and angry with need, twitching in the cool air.

Rosaluna blinked, stunned.

"I... it’s grown so much," she whispered in disbelief.

Of course she had seen me naked once. Maybe. As children. But that was long ago. Now more than ten years had passed, and my cock was no longer some shy thing—it was a beast. And watching her stare at it, lips slightly parted, face so close I could feel her breath on it, awakened something primal inside me. A dark, coiled heat that surged in my gut and clenched at the base of my spine. I wanted to grab her hair, force her lips down onto it and choke her with it—but I held myself in check. For now.

"It hurts, sister..." I said softly, panting, trying not to let the sharp twitch of my hips betray me.

Her face twitched with panic. She reached for it with a kind of clumsy gentleness, wrapping her fingers around the shaft like she was afraid she might break it. "I... I think... it was like this," she said, voice trembling as she tried to recall the diagrams and descriptions.

A cold breath hissed between my teeth as I felt her fingers close around me. Sixteen years since a woman had touched me. More than that since anyone had touched me with such nervous care. Her hand was soft—tentative, her grip imperfect, but it was enough to send a jolt of molten pleasure racing through my groin.

Rosaluna’s gaze dropped, watching the clear bead of precum glistening at the head.

Then, hesitating only a moment longer, she leaned in. Her lips parted. Her tongue came out.

"Sluuuurp~"

The wet warmth of her tongue slid over the sensitive tip, tasting the slick drop of arousal. My back arched involuntarily, muscles locking. I exhaled sharply, head falling back. The sensation was electric—so sharp it bordered on painful, as though this new body had rewired all the old thresholds.

"A...Are you okay, Harold?" She asked, worried by my reaction.

"Y...Yeah," I gasped, forcing a smile. "It just... felt too good."

Her face lit up. That earnest light in her eyes—like she was proud. Like she had done well.

"When I licked you... you felt good?" She asked, almost eager.

"Yeah," I said, voice low and shaky. "Really good... Can you do it again?"

She nodded, blushing. "Okay..."

She leaned forward, her tongue trailing along the underside now, tracing the thick vein running up the shaft. Then her lips wrapped around the head.

"Sluuurp~ Mnnn..."

Oh fuck. Her mouth was so warm. Too warm. Her tongue swirled shyly around the tip, lips barely tight, unsure of her depth. It was clumsy, amateurish—but the sweetness of it, her breath shivering through her nose as she tried to stay composed, was more erotic than anything else.

I can’t.

My cock throbbed. The pressure exploded before I could stop it.

"Ghnnn—!!"

I gasped sharply, muscles locking. Cum surged through me in heavy spurts.

Rosaluna had no time to react.

The first thick rope splashed against her lips.

"Hhh—?!" She gasped, eyes going wide, pulling her mouth back instinctively—but it was too late. More burst forth in desperate pulses, coating her lips, her nose, her cheeks in long, hot streaks of white.

"Ahhh—f-fuck...!"

The ejaculation didn’t stop for several seconds. My cock pulsed again and again, each release thicker than the last, semen painting across her skin, catching on her eyelashes, smearing in her pale hair. Her expression froze—shocked, breathless, but she didn’t flinch away.

When it finally ended, I gasped and slumped back slightly, my chest rising and falling.

Rosaluna sat on her knees, mouth parted, face dripping with thick white fluid, the scent of cum strong in the air between us. A single drop clung to her chin, trembling, before falling to her lap.

Her lips opened as if to say something—but nothing came.

I looked at her. At the mess I had made. My sister. Kneeling, stunned, my cum running down her innocent face like tears.

I couldn’t help the slow, satisfied smirk that curved my mouth. She looked perfect like this. Desecrated. Claimed. Her silken white hair now tangled with strands of my seed, clinging to her cheeks, blending with the fluid dripping slowly down her nose.

She was beautiful.