Unlike other cousins Maria and John didn't go well with each other. As they grew old, and John left home to study, things between them slowly began to be corrected in a way.
But due to a tragedy Maria had to change her college mid semester. She and her boyfriend Charles had to fall off. And her mind couldn't bear it anymore, leading to alcoholism. She was forcefully sent to a rehab. But she ran away, becoming a homeless.
John got to know about it through mutual friends and eventually asked her to move in with him. It was supposed to be a temporary solution since She needed time to heal and John needed to share his rent.
Growing up Maria became wild and bold. With a natural glow up, red hairs and ice blue eyes, she was the talk of the town. Every man in college tried to get their hands on her. Her beauty was too much to resist and staying at close proximity with her had clutched John's already deranged mind.
Without realizing much, He was getting somewhat closer to her in a sinful way. At first, it was just like coexistence. She made coffee in the mornings. He worked late and they would often watch TV together. Just having fun and whatnot.
Spon occasional flirting became more and more obedient. Fun games became seductive and Enticing. Then one night Laughter lingered too long. While watching a show, laying down on the couch, their hands brushed against one another. She laughed it off and laid her head on him. He on the other hand couldn't shake it off. In the space between these moments, something began to pulse. Slow. Dangerous.
Maria laying over his hips, began to feel the tension, something hardening below, but she didn't stop.
They were watching some cliché romantic series—where the leads argued, then kissed like it was the end of the world. John chuckled, muttering, "So unrealistic."
Maria turned to him. Her voice was low. "Is it?"
The question hung in the air like lightning, seconds before it strikes.
He didn't answer.
She leaned in but not with hunger, but with years of restraint breaking. Her breath hitched. Eyes locked. There was no going back.
When their lips met, it wasn't desperate. It was slow. Like both were trying to memorize the feel of each other. John's hand cradled its way over her back striking every cord available on her. Maria's fingers tangled in his shirt. The series kept playing in the background, but they didn't hear a thing.
Her body rested against his like a secret he had always known.
They broke away, breathless, their foreheads touching. He whispered, "This isn't right."
She whispered back, "Then why does it feel like home?"
That night, under the dim glow of the TV, they made love—not in a frenzy, but like two people who had waited lifetimes. It was soft. Bold. Reverent. A mix of guilt and surrender.
Both of them felt each other deeply and intimately in every way possible. Her screams echoed throughout the apartment. As walls bear witnessed such an intense scene. It wasn't just sex, but something more. Both experienced the art of pleasure.
They no longer had a shame, no boundaries, just a man and his woman performing the art.