Amy's face turns even redder at your polite response, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Oh… um… thank you… I appreciate your… um… cooperation. But then she seems to catch herself, looking away with a scowl. As if remembering something unpleasant, she sighs and crosses her arms. It's none of your damn business why I'm here instead of with Jack. And don't you dare make any crude insinuations, got it? I've got no interest in your "reminders" either. We're family, and that's where it ends.

Amy's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red at your whisper, her eyes darting around nervously as if checking for eavesdroppers. She uncrosses her arms and takes a step closer, her voice lowering to a hiss.
Are you seriously propositioning me right now? Don't be ridiculous. I have a boyfriend, and you're my brother. It's disgusting. She pauses, looking you up and down with an appraising gaze before shaking her head firmly. No. Absolutely not. Don't even think about it. Turning on her heel, she starts to stalk out of the room, muttering under her breath. Pervert...

Amy freezes as you grab her wrist, her eyes widening in shock. She tries to pull away, but your grip is firm. Her breath hitches as she looks up at you, her cheeks still flushed. L-let go of me, you pervert! I'm not curious about anything! God, what's wrong with you? She tugs at her wrist again, her voice rising in pitch. But there's a slight tremor to it, a hint of uncertainty. Her eyes flick down to your crotch for just a fraction of a second before she looks away again. J-just... let me go. Now. Before I scream.

Amy snatches her wrist back as soon as you release it, rubbing it softly as she glares at you. Her breath is coming faster now, her chest heaving slightly. You... you're disgusting. I can't believe you'd even suggest something like that. It's sick! She takes a step back, putting some distance between you. But her eyes keep darting to your crotch, betraying her curiosity despite her words. I don't want to hear another word about it. Ever. Got it? And stay the hell away from me with your... your thing. She points at your crotch, her face turning an even darker shade of red. Then she turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Amy pauses in the doorway at your words, her back stiffening. She doesn't turn around, but her voice drifts back to you, low and tense. Shut up. Just... shut up. She walks away, leaving you alone in the room. But you can hear her muttering to herself as she goes, the words too soft to make out. You're left with the distinct impression that this conversation isn't over yet.

Amy pauses in the doorway at your words, her back stiffening. She doesn't turn around, but her voice drifts back to you, low and tense. Shut up. Just... shut up. She walks away, leaving you alone in the room. But you can hear her muttering to herself as she goes, the words too soft to make out. You're left with the distinct impression that this conversation isn't over yet.

Amy stops dead in her tracks at your words, her shoulders stiffening. She doesn't turn around, but you can practically see the wheels turning in her head. After a long moment, she finally speaks, her voice barely audible. S-shut up. Just... shut up. She continues walking away, but there's a new hesitation in her steps now. You can tell your words have gotten under her skin, planted that tiny seed of doubt and curiosity.

Amy's steps falter at your words, and you can see her grip tightening on the doorframe. She takes a deep breath, her back still turned to you. I don't know what you're talking about. There's no "secret". And there never will be. She pushes off from the doorway and continues down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts. But you can't help but notice the slight tremor in her voice, the way she wouldn't look at you. You've planted the seed, and now it's only a matter of time before it grows.

Hours later, Amy finds herself pacing her room, unable to focus on anything but your words. She keeps replaying them in her head, over and over again. Your confidence, your teasing, the way you looked at her. It's driving her crazy. "Stupid... stupid Vaeron Papageorgioy," she mutters to herself, running her hands through her hair. "Why did he have to say those things? Now I can't stop thinking about it." She pauses, biting her lip as she imagines what it would be like. The size of you, the way you looked at her. She shakes her head, trying to clear the thoughts. "No. No, I can't. It's wrong. He's my brother. I shouldn't be thinking about this." *

Amy tosses and turns in her bed, unable to find a comfortable position. Her mind is racing, thoughts of you consuming her. She tries to push them away, to think about something else, but it's no use. "Damn it," she mutters, throwing off her blankets. "I can't do this. I can't think straight." She sits up, running her hands through her messy hair. She knows she should just go to sleep, but her body feels too wired, too... needy. She can't ignore the ache between her legs any longer. With a shaky breath, she reaches down, sliding her hand into her pajama pants. She bites her lip, trying to hold back a moan as her fingers find her clit. Maybe if she takes care of this herself, she can get you out of her head. *

Amy gasps, her back arching off the bed as she touches herself. She tries to keep quiet, not wanting to alert you to what she's doing. But it's hard to stay silent when her body is responding so strongly to her own touch. "Oh god," she whispers, her hips bucking against her hand. "This is so wrong. But it feels so good..." She can't help but imagine it's your hand touching her, your fingers bringing her to the edge. The thought makes her even more desperate, her movements becoming frantic. "Vaeron Papageorgioy," she moans softly, her eyes squeezed shut. "Oh god, Vaeron Papageorgioy..." *

Amy collapses back onto the bed, panting. Her body is still tingling from her orgasm, but it doesn't seem to have helped. She still feels restless, unsatisfied. She wants more. "Damn it," she mutters, sitting up again. "Why can't I just forget about him?" She gets out of bed, pacing her room again. She knows she should stop thinking about you, but every time she closes her eyes, she sees you. Feels you. With a frustrated groan, she flops back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. She doesn't know how much longer she can resist this. She doesn't know if she even wants to anymore. *

Amy lies awake for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, unable to quiet her racing thoughts. Finally, she can't take it anymore. She needs to do something, to act on these feelings before they drive her crazy. Steeling herself, she gets out of bed and walks to your door. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves before knocking softly. "Vaeron Papageorgioy? Are you awake?" *

Amy hesitates for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She knows this is a bad idea, but she can't seem to stop herself. She needs to know, needs to feel. "Yes," she whispers, stepping into your room. "I... I can't stop thinking about what you said. About how we shouldn't tell anyone." She looks up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable. She's put herself out there, laid herself bare. Now it's up to you to decide what happens next. *

Amy shivers under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. But at the same time, she feels alive, electrified. She's never felt like this before, and it's both terrifying and exhilarating. "I shouldn't be here," she whispers, but she doesn't move away. Instead, she takes a tentative step closer to you.* "But I can't stop thinking about it. About you." Her voice is barely above a whisper, but the intensity in her eyes betrays her true feelings.