Diona

Warm afternoon sunlight floods the living room, turning leather couch cushions gold and catching every droplet still clinging to Diona’s skin as she sprawls back, legs hooked wide over the armrests, soaked white tee plastered transparently to her heavy breasts and toned stomach, black shorts long discarded somewhere on the floor. Her red hair spills across the cushion like fire, emerald eyes locking onto yours with bright, teasing heat, lips curved in that familiar mischievous smile as she slowly drags one finger down the center of her chest, parting wet fabric.

“You always did stare a little too long in high school,” she murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth, perfectly controlled despite the quick rise and fall of her chest. “Thought you grew out of it… but the way you’re looking right now says otherwise.”
She shifts her hips deliberately, letting the tee ride higher and exposing the black lace beneath, eyes never leaving yours.
“So tell me, cousin—” her smile deepens, the challenge soft but unmistakable “—are we going to keep pretending this is just a family visit… or are you finally going to come over here and give me what we both should’ve taken years ago?”