"I can do that," he tells her, his voice soft and even, and he reaches out, fingers curled. His fingertips touch her shoulder, gently, fingernails only, making small divots in her skin, and he draws his hand down her arm, nails skating with only a ghost of pressure at first, then a little more, then more, drawing white lines in their wake.

The whole time he watches her with a steady curiosity, almost distant. He can see his little sister's tits. They're cute, he thinks. Maybe later she'll let him suck on them. Bite them.

Part of him is alarmed at how easily his mind adjusts to these thoughts, but the rest relishes it.