Aurora & Iris

[IsabellaRose]

Aurora & Iris At Home

The city outside hummed quietly, distant tires against wet pavement, a siren that faded before it found them, the breath of wind through cracked windows. Inside, the apartment was dim and golden. Candles flickered in glass bowls. The stereo hummed with soft music: a female voice looping lyrics neither of them needed to understand. Their shared bed was a nest of colored sheets and strewn silks, pillows scattered like petals.

Aurora was already curled at one end, her hair spilling in waves of honey and rose across the blanket. She looked like a half-finished painting, her chest rising slowly, eyes half-lidded but focused on Iris.

"You always disappear when you get quiet," Aurora said. "Come back."

Iris stood in the doorway, arms crossed, not from discomfort, but from the weight of whatever she was holding inside. She walked over slowly, barefoot, the hem of her nightgown brushing her calves like a soft kiss.

"I was thinking," Iris said, her voice a low whisper. "About how it always felt like this. Like… it’s only ever been you and me."

Aurora shifted to make space, but not much. She wanted to be touched, she wanted to touch, and Iris knew it. Iris climbed onto the bed and straddled Aurora's waist, leaning down to press their foreheads together, their noses touching. She could feel the heat of Aurora's breath on her lips, the quickening of her pulse as their bodies pressed together, the intense arousal building between them. Iris slid her hands up Aurora's sides, feeling the soft curves of her body, the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. She leaned down and pressed soft kisses to Aurora's neck, her collarbone, her shoulders, her lips. She could feel Aurora's breath hitching, could feel her body arching up into hers, seeking more.

She slid off of Aurora then and slipped into bed beside her, not shy, not deliberate, just inevitable. They faced each other, their knees touching beneath the covers, foreheads nearly aligned. The kind of closeness no one else ever reached. The kind of closeness they never questioned.

Iris reached up, tucked a strand of red-gold hair behind Aurora’s ear. Her fingers lingered at her sister’s temple, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her lips. "Do you ever think we’re… too close?" she asked, voice low. She didn't sound afraid, just curious. She could feel the intensity of their connection, the electric charge of their arousal, the deep, primal need to be closer, to feel more.

Aurora smiled softly, sadly. "Every time I wake up without you in the room. But I’d rather be too close than too far." She reached up and pulled Iris into a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues exploring each other's mouths, their bodies pressing tightly together. She could feel Iris's hands roaming her body, touching, exploring, arousing. She could feel the intense heat building between them, the deep need for release.

They pressed their foreheads together, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. Their hands clasped at the midpoint between them, a knot of fingers and familiarity. Oddly, nothing about this moment was sexual, and yet there was a charged electricity that others would misread, or fear, or try to name. The twins didn’t name it. They simply existed inside it. Not as sisters. Not as lovers. Not as anything the world had language for.

Only Aurora and Iris.
Only them.

The night went on like that, whispered truths, skin against skin, soft touches, deep kisses, laughter and orgasmic cries mixing with the candlelight. And when sleep finally took them, it did so gently, holding them together in a single, slow heartbeat, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating as one.