"I do think you're right, Cordelia." There's never any malice in Sebastian's voice when he speaks of or to Cordelia. It's always honest affection, and I'm sure she's the only one, save for Nanny perhaps, who never feels the bite of his wicked tongue. "Which is rather depressing, I think." He rises up on his elbows, looking down at his little sister with his smile curved, a hint of the wickedness in it. "For the laziest day to be over means summer is almost gone."

"It does." Cordelia's eyes are closed, and I wish that she would open them, see the light in Sebastian's eyes. I want someone who knows of these things to look at him and tell me if I'm correct from my scattered and likely misremembered readings from the Bible, that Sebastian is like a fallen angel, dangerous and deadly and beautiful beyond compare. "Sad, really."

Sebastian shifts onto his side, elbow bent and head resting on his hand. I mimic his posture, watching with eyes hungry for the sight of him. He has discarded his shirt at some point, soaking up the sun into his pale skin like some bohemian, like a gypsy, his pant legs rolled up to his knee. He reaches over slowly, though the speed seems like a trick of the heat. "Don't be sad, Cordelia." He touches her then, just the barest brush of his fingertip between her breasts. I can see her breath shift, catch and then start again, slightly faster. "We could do something. Make the day less lazy. Give us hope for the future."

"You don't believe in the future, Sebastian."

He smiles at her, and I realize I need no help in identifying him. He is Lucifer, risen and intent on destruction. "I suppose you're right, Cordelia, to some small extent. The future, so far off and distant, seems but a dream." He touches her again, his finger tracing a line from the base of her throat to the collar of her dress and down along the flat of her stomach to where the skirt blossoms out like a flower, its petals curled around her legs. "But this summer stretches on forever. A future I think we can all believe in."

I watch Cordelia lick her lips, her eyes closed even tighter, as if refusing to see what Sebastian is doing. Myself, I find I cannot look away. His eyes are bright and dark all at once, intent shadowing them in ways that makes my own breath catch, my heart race. "S-so." She licks her lips again and exhales, the breath shaky. "If we do something, it's possible, perhaps, that tomorrow will be the laziest day."

Sebastian's fingers slide up to the collar of Cordelia's dress again and rest there for a brief moment, one of them tracing the delicate skin above the lace. "It is, I think, quite possible." Sebastian's voice has grown thick as well, and desire seems to hang around us like ripe fruit, forbidden fruit. He undoes two of the buttons, pulling the fabric back to expose Cordelia's skin. It's pale and unspoilt, though there's a rosy flush staining it as Sebastian's hands touch her. He moves on to more buttons, intent, as always, in his goal. "Don't you?"

"I...I'm not sure." She licks her lips again, her breath stumbling and I can imagine the rapid beat of her heart beneath her skin, wonder if Sebastian can feel it. I wonder if perhaps he's forgotten I'm here, if she has. But no. She turns her head, her gaze falling to me. Her eyes are bright with emotions, ones easily read and others I have no names for. "What do you think, Charles?"

My name sounds like a caress on her tongue and I reach out as she extends her hand toward me. Invitation is writ plain on her skin as I lift her hand to my lips. I can taste her rapid heartbeat against my tongue, and I cannot look away as Sebastian turns his head to me. His invitation is in the burning heat of his eyes, singeing my skin with a glance. The answer to the question is so clear, what I should do and what I should say, but instead I place another kiss on Cordelia's wrist, my eyes locked on Sebastian's.

"Unanimous then," Cordelia breathes, turning her face back toward the sun. I watch her for a moment, trace her profile and commit it to memory, my eyes painting her image in my mind as they move down. She is not beautiful, at least not in the way that Sebastian and Julia are beautiful. Her beauty lies in her voice and the soft touch of her hand, in the acceptance she gives everyone, the fierce loyalty she has, a lioness protecting her cubs.

But in this moment, there is the same beauty, reflected perhaps from Sebastian's closeness, from the intensity of his gaze as he parts her dress, tugging it free from her shoulders, down her arms. She arches her back, letting him undress her, and I can't help but be captured by the sight. She is untouched by sunlight and likely by eyes other than Nanny's or her mother's, perhaps Julia's a time or two. Or perhaps I am wrong and Sebastian has done this before, but there's something in his own gaze, a sense of wonder in those deep blue eyes that speaks of discovery.

"So lovely, my Cordelia." He bends his head, his breath feathering over her skin. His lips are stained dark, a hint of purple tinting the red as he parts them and places the faintest of kisses on Cordelia's stomach. "My sweet, innocent Cordelia."

"Not so innocent, Sebastian. You're not the only heathen in our house. The Sisters despair over me."

"Over your brain, sweet thing," he assures her, his mouth moving over her skin, raising gooseflesh despite the heat. "You see reason instead of faith and it frightens them. This…this is something altogether different."

"Is it so different, Sebastian?" Her voice is lighter than air, soft and gasping into the breeze around us. "What do you think, Charles? Would the Sisters approve?"

"I think the Sisters are far too demanding should they find fault in you, Cordelia." I'm still holding her hand, and taste her wrist again, and there's something faint on her skin. Perspiration, perhaps, but it tastes of whiskey or wine, something intoxicating.

She laughs and it's as breathless as her gasps, desperate for air as Sebastian's kisses move up her skin to the slight swell of her breasts. They're small and perfect, creamy white with the hint of pink at the nipples, the skin hardening like rosebuds before dawn. "Sebastian has been giving you lessons in dripping honey from your tongue, Charles."

Sebastian laughs as well, then flicks his tongue across Cordelia's nipple. She gasps again, and this time it's raw and throaty, beyond her years. Sebastian closes his mouth around the hard flesh, suckling it gently, his white teeth framing the pink as his tongue bathes the flesh.

"O-oh, Sebastian."

He closes his eyes after a quick glance at me, letting his mouth truly close over her. She shivers beneath him and arches up, her body like milk cream rising to the surface, pulled up by his mouth, his need. I pull back slightly, watching the tableau before me as Sebastian shifts, his body over hers. Her legs, darkened by days spent with her skirts raised, chasing us through brambles and fields, running for picnic supplies or hiding from Sebastian's invented monsters and imagination, curve around Sebastian's, and I can't help but notice the difference. She is dark where he is light, his pale skin nearly the colour of his khaki trousers. Her legs stand out starkly against his, sliding against his calves.

Sebastian groans around her, moving his head with slow deliberation to Cordelia's other breast. Her eyes are closed against the sensation and her body shivers with it, overloaded, as I know the senses can get beneath the onslaught of Sebastian's tongue. I reach for my pencils, the packet of papers I keep with me, tucked down in my satchel or in the picnic basket that seems our constant companion. I pull them free and lick the tip of the pencil, sliding it against the paper with a scratching sound that speaks of rough stubble on untouched skin.

I trace their forms, now melting together like one in the August heat. Sebastian's hair tumbles down against her flesh as he leaves her breasts, letting his mouth travel down to the slope of her stomach, tracing paths I cannot see with his tongue. I sketch out Cordelia's arms as one extends above her head, fingers splayed against the edge of the blanket while the other hand threads though Sebastian's hair, making fanning waterfalls of the strands as she strokes through it.

Her neck is arched and her jaw strong like Sebastian's, her lips parted. Her eyes are closed but her lashes lay like soot against her cheeks, dark contrast to her skin and the pale pink of her tongue as it traces over the swollen flesh of her lower lip. She is plump like a berry, ripe for picking as Sebastian traces his hands and mouth over her, searching for the stem to sever her from the vine.

Cordelia's voice carries on the wind, soft pleas and words I am uncertain that she actually knows, begging Sebastian to touch, taste. She is spread beneath him like a feast and I cannot help but stare as he dines on her. I try to capture the subtle movements with my pencil, the fact that his touch never leaves her, that the stroke of his hand along her side is almost brotherly in intent, despite the fact that his other hand slides beneath her back to guide her higher so he might divest her of her dress completely.

The sun feels too hot on my skin and my pencil feels soft against the paper, smudging and smearing the sharp lines into lazy strokes that seem better suited to this pursuit of pleasure. Sebastian is uncontained in lines, more a motion I try to convey as he eases away from Cordelia, setting her dress and underskirts aside. There is little between them now, underclothes that hide the last bastion of her womanhood, and I wonder if it will remain. Sebastian seems lost, and I wait in the shadow of fear for it to all fall apart as he scrambles back to ground he knows, he understands, he controls.

Instead, he shifts closer, his body fitted to Cordelia's, and kisses her. I feel the heat like shame in my groin, burning at the sight of them as she winds her hands into Sebastian's hair and holds him against her, her leg curving over the back of his. Want and wanton and not Cordelia at all, except this is Cordelia as Sebastian sees her, beautiful and desirous. It is how we all see ourselves through Sebastian's eyes and I can no more fault her for the need than I can myself.

He moves down her again with purpose now, laziness a thing forgotten as his fingers curve under the fabric. He is a warrior now, ripping the shield away from his enemy for conquer. I know this Sebastian far too well, but he surprises me with tenderness as he guides the material down and places the softest of kisses on the curve of flesh. Cordelia gasps and arches upward, her knees falling wider apart in offering.

"Summer stands no chance," Sebastian whispers against her, his tongue snaking down to the tender flesh beneath. Cordelia groans and I remember the first time I felt Sebastian's tongue on my flesh and groan in time with her, dropping my artist's distance and crawling over to her, my mouth on hers to capture that once more.

She kisses me fiercely and I taste Sebastian in her, that fight and fire that burns so brightly and will burn us all to ashes long before the end of days. One of her hands is in my hair, holding me to her and refusing to surrender control, as the other tries to hold Sebastian against her, like taming a stallion that has only known the wild.

Endless time passes until surely it must be autumn or winter, another summer gone, but it is still this moment as Cordelia shudders beneath me, her mouth falling from mine as she gasps for breath, Sebastian's name stealing away what she holds in her lungs. I turn my head to watch him taste her, drink her down like the finest champagne only for once, there is appreciation of what he tastes on his tongue, savouring the flavour instead of simply consuming it.

I reach for Sebastian, unable to hold back any longer. His hair tangles in my fingers, his mouth is hot on mine, sweet as spun sugar with the taste of Cordelia. Want rises up like the heat from the black of the roof, like brimstone and sulphur underpinning the sweet smell of summer crops and drying grass all around. I push at Sebastian's braces, guiding them off his shoulders and down, letting them fall at his hips as he kneels before me, still between Cordelia's spread legs.

He pushes me back before I can catch him, guiding me down to the blanket as he eases over Cordelia and lays me down beside her. I can feel her watching me, as she must have felt my eyes on her. Sebastian braces himself over me, and I can feel the brush of her skin as she turns on her side and slides her hand in the space between us, unbuttoning my shirt and baring flesh to Sebastian's hungry mouth.

"How does it feel?" she asks softly as Sebastian bends his head to my neck, kissing and suckling the skin there. "When he kisses you?"

"He's kissed you," I manage, my voice thick with desire as Sebastian's mouth moves over me, heat and wet in his wake.

"Not like he kisses you. He's so gentle with me." She laughs softly as Sebastian's teeth rake my skin and I arch upward, rising toward him like he's Helios, the sun behind him shining like a golden halo. "Tell me how he kisses you. How he feels."

"His mouth is hotter than the roof, teeth sharp." I fight for breath to keep talking as Sebastian's fingers weave over my skin, undoing my trousers and undressing me. It's like fire in my veins as his fingers touch me and the world goes away, even Cordelia's presence narrowing to the faintest hint of shadow against his glow. The light touch disappears as Sebastian moves down me, disrobing me with rough, demanding fingers.

"So hard for him, aren't you, Charles?" Her voice is so matter-of-fact as Sebastian pulls away to discard my clothes. Intent is burning in his eyes and it is clear that he'll be inside me soon. I can feel my body respond to the thought. My groin tightens, heat pooling at the base of it, muscles tightening and waiting for Sebastian's fingers to breach them, push past them until I'm ready for him. "Will you tell me how he feels?"

Sebastian's laugh is low and throaty as he reaches for the picnic basket. He is no fool, my Sebastian, and never ventures anywhere unprepared for an adventure. There is always wine and cream and oil for the bread and I know something will slide, warm from the sun, against my skin.

I turn my head to look at Cordelia. There's darkness in her eyes, sin stealing away the innocence that normally brightens them. There is a moment of clarity, of regret that vanishes as Sebastian's fingers move against me, and any remorse dies in the heat and pressure as he eases them inside.

"Tell me," Cordelia breathes, moving closer so I can feel her breasts against my arm, hardened nipples rubbing against the sun-touched hairs on my skin. "Tell me how he feels."

"Like fire." My laughter is weak, unsteady as Sebastian moves his fingers inside me, thrusting slowly. I can only see shadows, backlit as he is by the sun, but I can imagine his smile, imagine the satisfaction I know full well he derives from rendering me helpless.

Cordelia laughs and it's a delighted laugh, a child on Christmas morning surrounded by bright paper and ribbons. The dissonance of it nearly takes me out of the moment until Sebastian's fingers slide deeper, curving slightly as he pushes another inside. I groan, unable to stop the sound, and it trembles a low bass to Cordelia's soft peal of joy. I groan again, panting roughly, my breath caught on a low whisper. "God."

"Oh," she whispers to me, breathing against my skin. "It's like a prayer, Charles." She turns her smile to Sebastian and he leans in and kisses her. It's soft and delicate until she moans and opens her mouth and then I can see his tongue touch hers. My eyes fall closed then as Sebastian's fingers continue to thrust inside me, the hungry sound I hear him mutter against his sister's lips fuelling every hard stroke.

"Sebastian. Sebastian." I cannot help but breathe his name, panting it roughly into the overheated air. I open my eyes again, treated to the sight of Cordelia's ripe, swollen lips parting from Sebastian's as he turns his head to me. Heat is burning along my veins, pulsing so hard and hot I feel I might combust from the inside out.

"Yes, Charles?" His voice is cool, but it serves to add fire to my blood as I feel his fingers leave me. There's a sense of loss, bereavement even though I know what is to come. I watch Cordelia watch him, remember what it was like to see Sebastian for the first time. He's golden like an angel, gilded in white blond.

"Please."

It is the pleading that always makes Sebastian tremble, the one weapon I have over him that he cannot fight. He groans low and settles more firmly between my legs, and reaches down, guiding himself into me. I cannot breathe during the moments it takes him to fill me, cannot do anything but feel Sebastian as he pushes deeper, deeper until he is inside me and he is all I can feel.

We are alone in that instant, the rest of the world fallen away so that it is myself and Sebastian like giants straddling the planet. The world is ours and ours alone to do with what we wish, what we will. Of course, for us, the only will we have is for this, for more, for whispered words and hard thrusts and the tightening of flesh and for release.

"Touch him."

I huff a gasp, wrenched from the moment by Sebastian's voice. I have forgotten Cordelia despite the desperate heat of her eyes and the wide wonder that she exhales as she watches. We are sweat-soaked and burning, the sun roasting out skins as Sebastian moves, as I wrap my legs around his calves and thrust against him, tight around him. Sebastian is all I see, but I cannot help but feel the tentative touch as it traces along my arousal, feeling the hard flesh so lightly in stark contrast to the hard thrust of Sebastian as he begins to let loose his control.

Sebastian says my name, his voice rough with passion, with hunger and it echoes down my spine like a primal cry. I shudder in response, need surging through me, caught by Cordelia's hand as she wraps it around me and begins stroking. Her touch is too tight and too gentle and I thrust into it, gasping her name and his like a mantra, like Cordelia's honoured prayer.

"Stroke him," Sebastian growls and Cordelia obeys, as caught in his thrall, as I am, unable to resist. We are like a three-headed beast of need, drenched with heat and wet, and more as Sebastian stills inside me, a different heat rushing through me. I groan in time with him, my body tightening further still until I jerk in Cordelia's hand, my climax spilling out over her still moving hand.

Sebastian slumps down against me, his face buried in my neck. It is too much heat, his skin singeing mine, but to move is beyond us both. I lift a hand to shield my eyes to the sun and look at Cordelia tracing patterns up Sebastian's back with her wet fingers, marking him as mine or ours or perhaps he has been all along regardless. If anyone, I share him with her, as she has always held his heart.

"There," Cordelia sighs finally, shifting to lie down beside us, her head on Sebastian's shoulder for a soft kiss and then mine. "Summer stands no chance now. Another lazy day will have to come along."

I wrap my arm around her and kiss her temple lightly. It seems incongruous given the past hour we've spent, but right all the same. "I believe you are right, Cordelia."

"Let summer bring them," Sebastian whispers roughly, loud enough that we can both hear, yet still a secret for all that. "And we will chase them all away until it has no choice but to last forever."