Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.4 Night Disturbance

Hayao stirred in the thick heat of the night, his sheets twisted around his legs, the faint hum of cicadas barely piercing the stillness. A warmth pressed against his side, soft and unexpected, jolting him from the haze of half-sleep. His eyes fluttered open, heart lurching as he registered the sensation: Yumi, curled beside him, her body nestled close in the quiet dark. Her breath was slow, steady, a rhythm that contrasted with the sudden thudding in his chest.

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, and caught the faint floral scent of her hair mingling with the warmth of her skin. Confusion swirled in his mind—why was she here?—but then his fingers brushed the stopwatch dangling from his neck. The cool metal grounded him, its power whispering possibilities he couldn’t ignore. His pulse quickened, a dark thrill coiling in his gut as he gripped it, thumb hovering over the button. A moment of hesitation—guilt flickering like a shadow—before he pressed down. 

Click. Time froze.

The world went silent. Yumi’s chest stilled mid-breath, her body locked in place, oblivious to the shift. Hayao’s breath hitched, the quiet amplifying the pounding of his own heart. He turned to her fully, eyes tracing her form in the dim light. Her nightgown clung to her curves, the thin fabric outlining the gentle swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. His mouth went dry, desire warring with the gnawing shame at the edge of his thoughts.

His hand trembled as it reached out, fingertips grazing her cheek. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm even in the stillness. He lingered there, savoring the sensation, then let his touch drift lower—down her throat, across her collarbone, pausing at the neckline of her nightgown. His breath came shallow now, a mix of nerves and need driving him forward. With a tentative tug, he pulled the fabric down, exposing her breasts. They spilled free, full and perfect, her nipples tightening slightly in the cool air. A low groan escaped him, unbidden, as he stared, captivated.

He leaned in, lips brushing one peak before closing around it. The taste of her skin—faintly salty, achingly warm—sent a shiver through him. He sucked gently, tongue swirling over the sensitive bud, while his hand cupped her other breast, kneading the soft flesh. The weight of it in his palm, the way it yielded to his touch, fueled the heat pooling in his core. His thumb grazed her nipple, circling it until it hardened further, and he marveled at how her body responded even in its frozen state.

His free hand wandered lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip. He slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her inner thigh. Her legs were parted just enough to invite him closer, and he hesitated only a moment before pushing her panties aside. The sight of her—slick and vulnerable—made his cock twitch painfully against the confines of his pajama pants. He swallowed hard, pulse racing, and traced a finger along her slit, gathering the faint moisture there. Bringing it to his lips, he tasted her: a heady mix of salt and sweetness that left him dizzy with want.

He couldn’t stop now. His hand slid back down, parting her folds with care, finding her clit. He circled it slowly, applying just enough pressure to imagine how she might react—soft gasps, a shuddering breath, her body arching into him. The fantasy drove him wild, his own arousal spiraling. He freed his cock with his other hand, stroking himself in time with the rhythm he imagined for her. The dual sensations—her warmth under his fingers, the tight grip around his length—were overwhelming, intoxicating.

His exploration grew bolder. He tugged her nightgown higher, exposing more of her, his hand roaming freely now—over her thighs, her stomach, back to her breasts. He pinched her nipple lightly, rolling it between his fingers, and watched her frozen face for a reaction that wouldn’t come. The power of it—the control, the secrecy—sent a dark thrill through him, drowning out the guilt that clawed at his conscience.

His strokes quickened, his breath ragged as he pictured himself inside her, her warmth enveloping him, her body yielding to his every move. He promised himself that he wouldn’t cross that line—not tonight—but the thought alone was enough. It took all that he had to stop himself from cumming into his hand.

Hayao reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp, the soft click piercing the stillness, casting a warm, amber glow across Yumi’s form, her body sprawled beside him, lost in the stopwatch’s hypnotic hold. Her breathing was slow, rhythmic, her chest rising and falling beneath the thin nightgown, her mind suspended in a half-daze, neither fully asleep nor awake. He hesitated, his fingers lingering over the stopwatch, its faint hum vibrating through the air, before dialing back its power just enough to ease the temporal grip, though not enough to pull her from her trance. The room seemed to shift subtly, the shadows deepening as her consciousness hovered on the edge of awareness.

Gently, he guided her onto her stomach, her limbs pliant under his touch, her face pressed into the pillow, strands of dark hair fanning out like spilled ink. He positioned himself behind her, his breath catching as he pressed his hardening cock between the soft curves of her asscheeks, the warmth of her skin igniting a slow burn of desire within him. He began to move, sliding rhythmically, the friction sending shivers of pleasure up his spine, though she remained still beneath him, her only response a faint, involuntary sigh that escaped her parted lips. The lack of reaction gnawed at him, a quiet frustration building—he wanted more, even if she couldn’t give it consciously.

His hand found the stopwatch again, weakening its power further, the air shimmering as the hold on her mind loosened just a fraction. She stirred slightly, a soft murmur slipping from her throat, unintelligible but enough to spur him on. He slid his hands beneath her, cupping her breasts through the nightgown, his fingers kneading the tender flesh, thumbs grazing her nipples until they peaked against the fabric. A low moan rumbled from her chest, her eyes fluttering half-open, glassy and unfocused, lost in the haze of her altered state. The sound fueled him, a quiet thrill pulsing through his veins.

Shifting the gorgeous girl onto her back, he straddled her chest, pressing her breasts together to cradle his cock in their softness. He thrust slowly, the sensation of her warm skin against his shaft exquisite, each movement drawing a ragged breath from him. 

Her lips parted, and in a voice thick with sleep, she muttered, “This… must be a dream…” The words were slurred, her mind adrift, yet they carried a faint, dazed longing. Then, with a ghost of a smile, she whispered, “I want to suck my little brother’s cock…” Her request hung in the air, soft and surreal, a product of her half-conscious state.

Hayao’s pulse quickened, her words stoking the fire within him. “I will,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as he shifted upward, positioning himself near her face. Her mouth opened instinctively, a lazy invitation, and he guided his cock between her lips, sliding into the wet heat with a groan. He moved gently, his thrusts shallow and deliberate, careful not to jar her from her trance. Her tongue stirred sluggishly, brushing against him, sending jolts of pleasure through his body, her moans muffled around him as she responded on instinct alone.

The room filled with the quiet sounds of their intimacy—his uneven breathing, the soft, wet rhythm of her mouth, the creak of the bed beneath them. Her tongue swirled lazily, a dreamy caress that heightened every sensation, her lips tightening faintly as if guided by some buried reflex. He gripped the headboard, steadying himself, his movements growing slightly faster, though still restrained, savoring the delicate balance of her dazed compliance. Her face remained serene, flushed with a faint heat, her eyes half-lidded, staring through him into some distant, imagined place.

He could feel the tension building, a tight coil low in his belly, but he wasn’t ready to let go. Slowly, he withdrew from her mouth, a thin thread of saliva glistening briefly before snapping. 

She whimpered softly, her voice a breathy mumble, “Don’t stop… feels good…” Her words were barely coherent, her mind still cloaked in the stopwatch’s spell, her body reacting without true awareness. He smiled, brushing a kiss against her forehead, the gesture tender despite the heat coursing through him. 

“I won’t,” he promised, his tone a mix of reassurance and hunger.

Lifting her nightgown, he exposed the smooth expanse of her lower body, her legs parting slightly as he settled between them. His cock brushed her inner thigh, hard and insistent, but he didn’t enter her—instead, he rubbed himself against her, the head sliding over her slick folds, teasing without breaching. Her hips twitched faintly, a soft, dazed whimper escaping her as the contact sparked something deep within her fogged mind. Her hands reached weakly, fingers grazing his arms before falling back, her movements slow and uncoordinated, like a sleeper caught in a dream.

The young boy leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking gently as he continued to grind against her, the dual sensations drawing a louder moan from her lips. “Yes… like that…” she breathed, her voice distant, a faint echo of pleasure filtering through her haze. Her hips began to move, a subtle, instinctive rhythm syncing with his, her body responding even as her mind remained adrift. The friction built, slick and heated, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together, the air thick with the scent of arousal.

Hayao’s pace quickened, his cock gliding against her with growing urgency, the pleasure mounting with every thrust. Her moans grew softer, more frequent, her breath hitching as her body trembled beneath him, caught in the tide of sensation. He could feel his release approaching, the tension snapping as he pressed himself hard against her one final time, spilling over her stomach and thighs with a shuddering groan. His body shook with the force of it, collapsing beside her, chest heaving as the aftershocks rippled through him.

The semi-comatose girl lay still, her breathing slowing, a faint, contented smile curving her lips. “Such a nice dream…” she murmured, her voice fading as her eyes drifted shut, sinking deeper into the stopwatch’s embrace. Hayao watched her, his own breath steadying, a complex swirl of emotions tightening his chest—desire sated, affection tinged with unease. 

Slowly, Yumi’s eyes fluttered open, the lingering haze of an unseen influence dissipating as her consciousness. Her young body thrummed with a restless energy, her desires surging to the surface, raw and untamed, no longer content to be buried beneath the weight of propriety. Her breath, warm and slightly uneven, brushed against Hayao’s bare skin, her body pressed close to his in the narrow confines of their shared bed. The air was thick with the scent of their proximity—faint scent from her shampoo mingling with the earthy musk of their combined warmth, a heady blend that made the small space feel both intimate and suffocating.

She turned her head slowly, her dark hair spilling across the pillow like ink, and locked eyes with her little brother. Hayao’s face was half-shadowed, his features softened by sleep yet sharpened by the tension she could sense beneath his calm exterior. His chest rose and fell steadily, the rhythm a quiet counterpoint to the storm brewing within her. Her heart pounded, a wild, insistent beat that echoed in her ears, and when she spoke, her voice carried a clarity that sent a shiver racing down his spine. 

“Hayao,” she said, her tone low and deliberate, laced with an unmistakable edge of need, “I want you to fuck me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric, a spark igniting the stillness. Hayao’s eyes snapped fully open, his breath catching as his heart thudded against his ribcage. His body reacted instinctively—heat pooling low in his abdomen, his cock stirring. 

“We can’t, sis,” he said, his voice tight with conflict, roughened by the remnants of sleep and the sudden jolt of her declaration. His hands clenched the sheets, knuckles whitening as he fought to anchor himself to reason. “We’re siblings. It’s wrong.”

Yumi shook her head, her hair brushing against his cheek, a silken caress that only deepened his turmoil. 

She leaned closer, her lips grazing the shell of his ear, her breath hot and teasing as she whispered, “This is all a dream anyway, and I don’t care about that.” Her voice was sultry now, a persuasive murmur that coiled around his resolve like smoke. “I want you, Hayao. I need you.” 

She paused, letting the weight of her confession settle, then added with a boldness that made his pulse race, “If you won’t fuck my pussy, fuck me in the ass.” The words were a command wrapped in a plea, her eyes glinting with a potent mix of defiance and longing, daring him to cross the line they’d been toeing for far too long.

Hayao’s breath hitched, his body trembling with the force of his warring impulses. His cock hardened fully at the thought, straining against the fabric that confined it, but his mind clung desperately to the last threads of restraint. 

“Yumi, we could get caught,” he protested, his voice wavering, the fear of consequences battling the ache of his desire. “What if someone finds out? What if Mom—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, his throat dry as the images of discovery flashed through his mind.

Yumi’s fingers trailed down his chest, her touch light but insistent, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her nails grazed his skin, a subtle scrape that sent a shiver through him. “

No one has to know,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm against his panic. “It’s just us here, Hayao. Just you and me.” She pressed her body closer, her breasts brushing against his arm, her hips shifting to align with his in a silent promise. “Please,” she whispered, her lips hovering near his, her breath mingling with his own. “I’ve wanted this for so long—wanted you for so long. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Her words were a sledgehammer to his defenses, each syllable chipping away at the walls he’d built. The room seemed to shrink, the faint hum of the city beyond their window fading into a distant murmur, insignificant against the roar of his pulse. All that existed was Yumi—her warmth, her scent, the way her eyes pleaded with him to surrender. He swallowed again, his resolve crumbling like dry earth beneath a flood. 

With a shaky nod, he gave in, his voice barely audible as he rasped, “Okay, sis. Okay.”

A triumphant smile curved her lips, seductive and knowing, a glint of victory in her gaze as she shifted beneath him. With a fluid, almost feline grace, she lifted her legs high, spreading them wide until her thighs trembled with the effort. Her hands grasped her ankles, fingers digging into her own skin as she held herself open, her body a canvas of invitation laid bare before him. Her tight, puckered hole glistened faintly in the dim light, exposed and vulnerable, an offering he couldn’t refuse. 

“Take me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm, a thread of steel beneath the softness. “Don’t stop, Hayao. Even if I cry out in pain, don’t stop. I saved this hole for you, and I want all of you.”

Hayao’s breath caught in his throat, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he positioned himself between her thighs. His hands shook as he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of his erection pressing against the resistant ring of muscle. He pushed forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the tightness of her ass gripping him like a vice, drawing a low, guttural groan from deep within his chest. 

“You’re so tight,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked on hers as he sank deeper, savoring the heat that enveloped him. “So fucking perfect, sis.”

Yumi’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, her knuckles whitening as she clung to her ankles, her body taut with the effort of holding herself open. 

“It hurts,” she whimpered, her voice strained, a single tear slipping down her cheek to stain the pillow beneath her. The stretch was intense, a burning ache that radiated through her, and her eyes squeezed shut as she fought to adjust.

Hayao froze, his heart clenching at the sight of her distress, his hands hovering over her thighs. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern, though his body screamed to keep going.

She shook her head fiercely, her dark hair whipping against the sheets. “No,” she breathed, her voice a mix of agony and determination. “Keep going. I can take it—I want to take it.” Her eyes fluttered open, locking with his, and the resolve in her gaze reignited his own desire.

He nodded, his jaw clenched as he resumed his advance, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her time to acclimate. But the final stretch—the moment when her body resisted most fiercely—was too much for him to bear. The sensation of her clenching around him, the heat, the friction—it overwhelmed him. With a primal, guttural sound, he thrust forward with all his strength, burying himself fully inside her in one forceful motion.

Yumi’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream as her body jolted beneath him, the bed creaking under the sudden shift. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over in silent streams as her breath came in sharp, pained gasps. Her legs trembled violently, her muscles straining to maintain their position, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she bit down on her lip, her muffled cries echoing in the small room as Hayao held still, giving her a moment to adjust to the fullness that consumed her.

“You’re so wonderful,” he murmured, his hands smoothing over her trembling thighs, his touch gentle despite the fire raging within him. “Fuck!”

She nodded faintly, her chest heaving as she struggled to steady her breathing. Slowly, the sharp sting began to dull, replaced by a strange, overwhelming fullness that sent a shiver coursing through her. Hayao felt her relax slightly, her muscles loosening around him, and he began to move, his hips pistoning as he pounded into her bowels, each thrust drawing a fresh whimper from her lips.

At first, the sounds were pained, her body tense and quivering, her face contorted with discomfort. But as he continued, her whimpers softened, evolving into something deeper—pleasure threading through the pain like a golden vein in dark stone. Her hips began to move with him, tentative at first, then bolder, meeting his rhythm with a growing confidence. Her breaths turned to moans, low and throaty, filling the room with their resonance.

“Hayao,” she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure mounted, her body arching into his thrusts with a desperate need. “It feels… so good now. Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her words were a spark to dry tinder, igniting him fully. His pace grew relentless, the tight grip of her ass driving him toward the edge with every stroke. The room filled with the symphony of their coupling—the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the creak of the bed beneath their weight, their mingled moans weaving a tapestry of forbidden desire. Yumi’s hands released her ankles, her legs wrapping around his waist with a possessive strength, pulling him deeper as she surrendered completely to the sensations.

“You’re incredible,” Hayao growled, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he slammed into her with unrestrained force. “So fucking tight—God, sis, you’re perfect. This hole was made for fucking.”

Her response was a keening cry, her head thrown back, her dark hair fanning across the pillow in a wild halo. “Yes, Hayao—fuck me harder,” she pleaded, her voice raw with need. “Make me yours, all yours.”

He obliged, his thrusts turning brutal, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through them both. The world narrowed to the point of their connection—the heat, the friction, the way her body clenched around him with every movement, drawing him deeper into her depths. He could feel his climax building, a tight coil of tension winding tighter with every thrust, ready to snap.

“I’m close,” he warned, his voice ragged, his rhythm faltering as he teetered on the brink, his entire being focused on the precipice ahead.

“Me too,” Yumi whimpered, her nails raking down his back, leaving faint red trails that stung in the best way. “Cum with me, Hayao. Fill me up—please.”

With a final, shuddering thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock pulsing as he released, his hot seed spilling deep within her in powerful, overwhelming waves. Yumi’s body convulsed beneath him, her own orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her ass clenching around him with a ferocity that milked every last drop. She screamed his name, the sound raw and unrestrained, echoing off the walls as the intensity of their connection bound them together in that fleeting, eternal moment.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, Hayao’s arms wrapping around her as she nestled against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Their breathing was ragged, a chaotic symphony that gradually slowed, finding a shared rhythm as the afterglow settled over them like a warm blanket. The air was thick with the scent of their exertion, musky and intoxicating, a testament to the boundary they’d crossed.

Hayao pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering on her damp skin as he whispered, “That was great. More than I should, more than I know how to say.”

She smiled, a soft, contented curve of her lips, her eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion tugged at her. “It was great…” she murmured, her voice a gentle sigh against his chest. “Always.”

Their bodies remained entwined, the heat of their skin a comforting anchor as they drifted into sleep, the world beyond their forbidden moment fading into insignificance. For them, in this moment, the weight of their transgression was a distant shadow.

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