Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Sick


Summary: If wanting you is a sickness, then don't cure me. 


Keywords:inc,fic,erotic,first time,young,hot,sex





   Dust swirled in the air as my feet pounded the pavement, the sun beating
down on my shoulders, making me burn like wildfire as I ran.  I wiped the
sweat off my face on my sleeve without stopping, pushing and pushing myself
to break my own record: a six-and-a-half-minute mile.  You'd think with
such long legs it wouldn't be an issue for me, but I was still human, and
humans are always limited by things like gravity -"and gravity didn't like
me very much.  I swayed, losing my balance for a moment, but then I was
straightening up, rolling my shoulders, and off I went, kicking the dust up
again behind me. 

   My parents' house was in view now.  Out front was the reason why I ran
so much.  Dark hair, wet, slicked back from a handsome face.  He wore a
pair of swimming trunks, dripping water down the driveway as he made his
way to the mailbox, his gait almost graceful, all movements confident.  His
arms rippled with muscle, flexing as he got the mail -"such a simple task,
such a normal thing, and yet it was enough to make me want to run past him
and jump into the pool in the backyard to cool myself off. 

   I needed to get a grip. 

   "Hey, Lolo," he said, shielding his eyes from the sun when I came to a
halting stop in front of him.  I tried catching my breath, but looking into
his light green eyes was making it extremely hard.  My heart beat fast,
running erratically in my chest like a pinball, dinging in every corner of
my heart. 

   "Break that record?" he asked casually, sifting through the mail.  His
hands were big, fingers slender, perfectly made for the guitar he strummed
on hot summer nights from his bedroom, the window thrown wide open.  I'd
sit in the backyard on a lawn chair beneath his bedroom window, nursing a
glass of stolen scotch from my dad's alcohol cabinet.  It made me sad, so
profoundly sad; everything I wanted was up in that room, creating music
with those beautiful hands, writing music for a girl that wasn't me. 

   Her name was Jessica, and she's exactly how all Jessicas are.  She's got
one of those smiles that can light up a whole room, the kind that's
sincere, genuine.  She's the kind of beautiful that you can't help but
admire, the kind of beautiful that you can't help but stare, the kind of
beautiful that you can't help but envy because it meant that there was no
way that the man you loved was going to be leaving her. 

   "No," I said bitterly.  "I almost lost my balance a couple of times.  My
body sabotaged me."

   He glanced up, looking worried.  "How long has this persisted?"

   "It's nothing," I assured him, even though it was not.  Running under
the hot sun made me dizzy.  I knew I was at risk of a heat stroke almost
every time I ran.  I should stop, but I couldn't -"and it scared me.  It
reminded me of how it had been for Mom.  One moment she'd been fine,
laughing and making lemonade and baking chocolate chip cookies, and the
next she was stepping out of a doctor's office looking grave.  Six months
later we buried her in one. 

   Cancer. 

   "You should get that checked..."

   "I'm fine," I said, cutting him off. 

   "Doesn't sound like it."

   "Don't fucking baby me."

   "Don't be a bitch, Willow."

   "Don't be a nosy asshole."

   We glared at each other.  His beautiful eyes clouded my judgment, and
for one second I almost reached for him, almost took his face in my hands
and pulled him close to me -"close enough to feel his breath on my lips,
close enough to taste him, close enough to kiss him, my own brother. 

   Sick. I was sick.

   "I don't understand you," he said, shaking his head.  He looked
disappointed, like he couldn't believe what I'd turned into while he was
away at college.  I wasn't the same sweet kid sister he'd left behind.  My
mother's death had hardened me, and my best friend growing up, my brother,
hadn't been there to protect me.  He'd shown up right before she'd died,
holding me at the funeral while I cried, and then he was gone, flying out
of state, back to his fancy private college.  He'd checked out, grieving on
his own, and forgetting completely that I'd been too young to face the
world on my own.  Dad spent more hours at work, Nick spent all his time at
school, and that left me, Willow Serene Weaver, alone. 

   "Don't pretend to care, that's all I'm saying," I said, and then I
stormed off, headed towards the backyard from the side gate.  I didn't
expect Nick to come after me.  It wasn't like I was Jessica.  He would've
gone after her, but me?  I was just his bitchy younger sister.  Jessica
could dump him, but I would always be his sister.  There was no fear of
losing me. 

   "What's up with you?" A hand closed around my arm and jerked me to a
stop.  I looked over my shoulder. 

   It was Nick.  He looked wild, like I'd told him I was dying or
something. It made me feel bad.  My symptoms probably scared him the way
Mom's symptoms had once scared me.  He'd actually come after me.  I hadn't
expected that.

   "Just -"not now, okay?" I said, my eyes pricking with tears.  Back when
we were kids, Nick had told me he loved me almost every day, taking my hand
and leading me through all the new things I was experiencing, all the new
sights and tastes and sounds.  I'd grown up under the shade of my brother's
protection, but it had been years since we'd talked properly now.  After he
left for college a few years ago, things had just...  changed.

   "Come here," he said, tugging me to him.  I let him pull me into a warm
embrace under the hot sun.  It should have suffocated me, all that heat,
but my body lived for it.  He smelled like pool water and aftershave and
summer.  He had a body like mine, long and athletic, lean with powerful
muscles in all the right places.  His bare chest touched my cheek, sending
an electric shock through my body.  I placed my hands on his abs, acting
like I was only touching him for balance, but really I just wanted to feel
what Jessica felt when she was beneath him, moaning from his bedroom when
she came over, their bodies slapping, making me listen even though I didn't
want to -"and I guess that's why I ran so much. 

   "I do care, Lolo," he said, rubbing my back.  "Don't ever think
otherwise."

   I pulled away, and it felt like I was stripping my very soul from my
body.  I couldn't stand there and just let him hold me like that anymore. I
couldn't do that to my heart -"my sad, pathetic, broken fucking heart.  I
couldn't let myself pretend that he was mine, not when he held me like he
was, like he belonged to me. 

   But he didn't belong to me.  He belonged to Jessica. 

   "Where's Jessica?" I asked, rubbing my neck awkwardly just for something
to do. 

   "She's cooling off in the house.  You should watch a movie with us. 
We're about to put on The Notebook."

   "Gross, no," I said making a face.  "I'm gonna go for a swim."

   I turned to leave, but Nick stopped me again, his hand closing around my
wrist. 

   "You know I love you, right?"

   I didn't turn around. 

   "I know," I said, and then I broke free from his grasp. 

   I love you, too. 

   I just couldn't say it out loud anymore.  Not since everything had
changed.

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   I didn't run to beat a record like Willow.  I ran to escape the
flatline. The sound of it was in my head, the smell of a sterile hospital
filling my nostrils even though I was miles and miles away from that
terrible place.  I could still hear it, that exact moment when she died. 
No matter how much I ran, no matter how much I pushed myself, I still
couldn't escape it. 

   I remember running out of the hospital, knowing that I'd only barely
made it, only to see her die, to see her eyes open wide, the Do Not
Resuscitate form burned in my brain, making me think how
fucking selfish she was for leaving Willow behind motherless. 

   But in running from my mother's death, I'd run from Willow, too.  Away
from her sad green eyes, like a storm that raged from the void, from the
entire world that was swallowing me whole.  She'd been only thirteen years
old, barely old enough to accept the finality of death, and yet it had come
into her life like a dark angel, stealing something from all of our
lives. 

   Our mother. 

   "Where did you go, Nick?" Willow had asked through her sobs.  She didn't
run into my arms, and I didn't walk over and hold her.  I had an irrational
fear that if I showed my love for her, Death would come take her, too.  It
was fucked up, subjecting a kid to that, but grief had gripped me and I
didn't know how else to deal with it. 

   I went to hell, I almost told her. I went to hell and it was better
than where I am right now. 

   I ran every day until the funeral, pushing myself beyond my limitations,
falling onto stranger's lawns, gasping to catch my breath and then getting
up again, facing the world, taking it by the horns and pushing it away from
me, running and running but never being able to get away from it. 

   Willow watched me come and go.

   "Take me with you," she said. 

   "No."

   I'd leave at five in the morning before the desert sun made its
appearance, my running shoes kicking up dust.  I heard rocks shifting
behind me, like the earth was going to fall in, like it'd take me to the
core to trap me there forever. 

   "Nick!"

   I didn't have to turn around to know that Willow had come after me.  I
wanted to ignore her, but I couldn't.  Her voice was so small, pleadingly
calling my name, begging me to stop, to wait for her. 

   "You shouldn't have come," I said, wiping the sweat off my brow. 

   She bent over, chest heaving, trying to catch her breath. 

   "Why the hell not?" she asked, breathing hard.

   "Watch your mouth.  And no means no, Willow.  You won't be able to keep
up."

   "Watch me," she said, and then she took off. 

   She was fast, outrunning me for a good half a minute before I caught up.
We ran together, running away from the world together, trying to outrun the
reality of a life without Mom. 

   At the funeral I finally held Willow, let her cry into my arms, but it
terrified me.  I didn't want to be around her, didn't want to love her more
than I already did, didn't want to feel the pain.

   So I ran, and this time, I ran away from Willow. 

   It's been five years, and she still hasn't forgiven me.  I haven't
forgiven myself, either.

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   The chlorine pool water was in my nostrils, in my mouth, in my very
bloodstream, stripping all the real water out of me.  I could've bled blue,
could've bled a color that wasn't mine -"because these days, I wasn't
myself.

   These days, I wanted something I couldn't have. 

   These days, I wanted something I shouldn't. 

   Because Nick wasn't Nick anymore either.  He'd come back from college a
man, tall and muscular, like somebody I didn't know.  With his green eyes
and his gray personality, it was difficult to connect him to the brother
I'd grown up with, to the boy who'd braided my hair for Girl Scouts, the
boy who'd put Band-Aids over my skinned knees, the boy who'd set me on his
shoulders when I was five so I could watch the fireworks at Disneyland. 
He'd laughed a lot back then, an infectious laugh that used to make me
giggle even when I didn't understand the jokes. 

   Since coming back, I haven't seen my brother laugh once. 

   "I made spaghetti and meatballs," Jessica said, standing by the pool in
an adorable little apron, looking like exactly the kind of woman that a man
would want to marry.  She was wifey material, and at eighteen, I was little
more than a kid.  I would've hated her if it wasn't for the fact that she
was so nice. 

   "I'll be right there."

   "I'll get the breadsticks out of the oven," she said, smiling brightly.
She knew I loved her breadsticks. 

   I grabbed the rail and pulled myself out of the water, dripping water
everywhere, and slicked my hair back from my face, feeling chilly in the
cold desert night.  The moon was already visible, a bright beacon in the
darkness.

   I saw Jessica through the kitchen window, reaching for the oven mitts,
but my brother appeared and took them from her hands, kissing her shoulder
as he passed her.  I looked away, feeling like I'd been spying on an
intimate moment. 

   At dinner, we talked about Dad and how he was working late again. 

   "As soon as I land this job, he can cut back on his hours," Nick said,
taking a sip of red wine.  They'd snuck me half a glass, but we had to be
on the lookout in case Dad walked in early. 

   Nick had gone to school for software engineering.  The starting pay in
his field was high enough that even a quarter of his paycheck towards our
living expenses was going to be a game-changer.  Dad said he wasn't going
to be accepting a penny unless Nick was living in the house, so now my
brother lived here instead of the apartment he'd had with two other
roommates.  I sometimes wondered which he preferred.  It seemed obvious. 
Out there in the world he was all grown up, but in this house he slept in
his old bedroom, surrounded by the memories of his childhood.  Still, it
had somehow been worth it to him to live here if it meant that Dad wouldn't
have to work so hard.

   I ate my dinner even though I wasn't very hungry.  I didn't want to hurt
Jessica's feelings. 

   "Are sure you'll get it?" I asked, not callously.  Just out of
curiosity. 

   Nick sat up straighter in his chair.  "I'm not sure, but I hope so.  The
interview went well."

   "Of course you'll get it," Jessica said quickly, putting her hand over
his.  Always supportive, this one. 

   "I'll hear from them by Friday."

   "If you get it, we should go up to the lake and celebrate.  Want to
come, Willow?" Jessica asked.  "My parents still have that lake house."

   Nick smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.  None of his smiles
ever did. 

   "No, you two go," I said.  I wasn't sure if I could survive a weekend of
the two of them being cute together.  My poor heart was already
suffering. 

   Nick glanced at me, that same concern in his eyes, his eyes so intense
that I had to look away.  The storm, the clouds, the lightning that struck
when he looked at me still had the power to take my breath away. 

   It hadn't always been this way, I hadn't always been sick. There had
been a time when he was just Nick, just my brother who I idolized, the guy
I looked up to, the guy I followed around everywhere like a puppy, but now
I was lovesick and heartbroken, wanting him in that sick way, needing him
to come take all my bitterness and dissolve it -"because in my heart, I
knew only Nick could make me better.  Only Nick could save me. 

   "I'm not leaving you here by yourself," he said with an air of finality.
Sometimes he was like this, authoritative, but all it served to do was make
him hotter than he already was. 

   "I won't be alone.  Dad will be here."

   "Dad's never here," Nick said, his eyes burning, daring me to
challenge him. 

   "I'm not interested in joining you in your love shack -"no offense,
Jessica."

   "None taken," she said quietly, but I could tell that she was already
regretting inviting me and starting this whole weird little fight that
wasn't quite a fight.  Yet. 

   "We're not going without you," Nick said, challenging me yet again.  He
was going to guilt me into this, using Jessica's feelings as a pawn, daring
me to hurt her.  He knew it was impossible to let down such a sweet
person. 

   "I'll think about it," I said reluctantly.  Jessica smiled, and it
almost made it worth it.  She really did have such a bright, genuine
smile. 

   Nick brooded for the rest of the evening, putting an invisible barrier
between us, hardly speaking to me.  I didn't know why he was always doing
that, putting up walls.  He didn't do it with anyone else. 

   And so the yearning became a physical thing, a desperate and pathetic
want and need. 

   But he could never be mine.

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   Jess stripped bare in the bathroom, her body flawless, shaking her cute
little ass as I slowly undid my zipper, watching her with hungry eyes.  She
let down her long, blonde hair, running her fingers through it, her perky
tits swaying as she bent down to slip her panties down from the curve of
her hips. 

   Jess was, in every sense of the word, a bombshell.  Big blue eyes,
natural beach waves, and a perfect body to match.  As fucking incredible as
her looks were, they didn't come close to touching her personality.  She
was a good person, an absolute angel. 

   "Come help me with my bra strap, babe," she said, turning around.  Our
eyes met in the mirror, and I could see that her eyes were hungry, too,
that she wanted to be taken in the shower against the tile wall. 

   I obliged. 

   "Make love to me," she gasped as I entered her from behind, bending her
over with the hot water raining down on us.  Her hands slapped on the tile
wall, bracing herself.  She had no need to; I was going to give it to her
just the way she liked it: slow, sensual, and sweet.  Sometimes I wished
she'd let me take her rough, fast and hard, but Jess always cried
afterwards, asking why I fucked her like I hated her, like I was punishing
her. 

   It wasn't worth it to see her cry. 

   I made love to her, building up her climax slowly, and then reaching
between us to rub her clit when I grew impatient.  She whimpered, her
thighs shaking, panting, her knuckles turning white, pushing her ass back,
letting me fuck her a little faster, a little harder -"but still nowhere
near enough. 

   "Careful, baby," she said when I began pounding into her, our bodies
slapping, fucking her the way I wanted to.  I wasn't relinquishing all
control, and it bothered the hell out of me.  I felt suffocated, like my
desire was being contained in a tiny box, locked up with the key thrown
away.  I was still being careful, both gentle and rough, but it was already
too much for her. 

   I rubbed her clit, faster this time, going in quick circles, and she
came instantly, her pussy contracting around the thickness of my cock,
gasping my name over and over again, almost slipping onto the floor.  I
caught her around the middle and straightened her, slipping out of her
body. 

   "Babe," she said, turning around.  "What's wrong?"

   "I'm just tired," I lied.  I knew I wasn't going to be able to come, not
with that restriction hanging like a noose around my neck.  I gave her a
smile and kissed her, tasting her cherry ChapStick, drawing her body to
mine and treating her like the queen she was.  I shampooed her hair, and
worshiped her body with soap and a loofah, cleaning off every last remnant
of our love-making. 

   "I love you, Nick," she said as we were drying off.  She'd never said it
before, and I wasn't sure how to react.  We'd only been dating seven
months; long enough to grow fond of each other -"but love? I wasn't sure
if I loved her back.  I wasn't sure if I was even capable of loving anyone
anymore. 

   "Jess, I -""

   "It's okay," she said, giving me a soft smile.  "You don't have to say
it back.  I just wanted you to know."

   I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close and placing a kiss on
her temple.  I didn't say anything else, but she didn't look like she
minded. 

   Jess brought up the lake house again, cautiously, talking about paddle
boarding and lounging out on the deck to tan and read the next romance
novel on her list.  She sounded excited, like she'd been planning this in
her head for a while.  I really hoped Willow was going to come through. 

   Willow. 

   My cock grew hard instantly, painfully hard, and visions of her long,
lithe body filled my mind; her delicate features, that pouty little mouth
and how it'd look swallowing my -"fuck. 

   Where had that come from?

   Jess was about to put on her pajama bottoms, her thighs thicker, her
body more curvaceous, a body that I worshipped. I walked over, picked her
up and placed her on the bathroom counter.  She looked surprised, her
cornflower blue eyes going wide, and then she saw my cock, rock hard and
standing straight up for her attention. 

   "Oh," she said, reaching out and closing her hand around it.  I groaned
and threw my head back, closing my eyes.  Willow flashed in my mind, her
small hands, her bones all tiny, and how she'd look with those little hands
wrapped around my cock. 

   My eyes snapped open, disgust filling me. 

   Sick. 

   "Did I do something wrong?" Jess asked, looking hurt. 

   "Of course not, baby," I said.  "That feels good.  Open your legs.  Let
me make love to you.  I need to come."

   Obediently, she parted her thighs, accepting me into the warmth of her
body, sighing as I entered her.  I didn't fuck her like I wanted to, didn't
make her cry, didn't make her scream, but I did keep my eyes open, watching
her face and the expressions of desire that clouded her features.  It was
enough to tip me over the edge.  I pulled out of her and came on her
stomach, squirting my thick white cum up as far as her breasts. 

   I was relieved that it was over.  I'd come without thinking about
Willow. 

   But it wasn't the first time this had happened. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   They were fucking again. 

   I could hear them, Jessica whimpering, and my brother groaning, and all
I could imagine was his face, his beautiful, perfect face, contorted with
pleasure, gritting his teeth, fucking sweet, innocent Jessica
and loving it. 

   I touched myself in the darkness, lying in bed and thinking of how it'd
be if he fucked me like that, my fingers matching the tempo of their
moans, my toes curling as I heard my brother's grunt through the walls.  He
was fucking her in the shower, the water running, but I could still hear
them. 

   I came when Jessica did, my pussy contracting around my little fingers,
letting out a muffled cry in the darkness, my brother's face flashing in my
mind, imagining the face he made when he was determined and serious. 
That's how I imagined he fucked her; fixed on making her come, on seeing
her come apart in his arms.  I knew him to be a person that gave more than
he took. 

   If he was mine, I'd be the one doing all the giving. 

   If only. 

   They fucked a second time, but this time I didn't touch myself. 

   This time I cried. 

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn't sleep.  Jess lay in my
arms, snuggling close, snoring lightly in that adorable way, and I stroked
her hair, my mind somewhere else, like it was hung up in the ceiling like
the fan, turning and turning, somewhere above me and out of my body. 

   Thirsty.  I was thirsty. 

   I gently untangled myself from Jess, shifting her body slowly in the
darkness.  She stirred, but didn't wake.  A part of me wished she hadn't
decided to spend the night, that she'd gone home instead, far away from me,
away from the man who had fucked her because he'd gotten hard over the
thought of his own sister. 

   I was sick. 

   I made my way downstairs, wishing I could muster up a yawn, maybe find a
way to make myself tired somehow, but nothing came to mind.  I walked into
the kitchen, headed straight for the fridge for a glass of milk. 

   "Hey."

   I almost jumped out of my skin.  I turned around. 

   It was Willow. 

   "What are you doing up?" I asked, looking at her.  She was beautiful,
the moon through the window casting light on her delicate features.  She
blinked slowly, almost like she knew what was going on in my head, and I
looked away, remembering how I'd gotten hard just thinking about her.

   Sick. 

   "Couldn't sleep," she said simply. 

   I nodded, opening the fridge, my hands trembling.  I didn't know why. 
It was like Willow had this strange power over me, like she knew exactly
how to take my heart and twist it until it was ready to burst.  From the
day she was born, she'd had me wrapped around her little finger.  Even now,
even when she was grown, she still had me trapped in her grasp. 

   I wanted to run away from her again, but I knew it wasn't fair.  She
hadn't done anything wrong.  I needed to work on not being such a dick to
her. 

   "Want a glass of milk?" I offered, turning around. 

   She held up a glass of clear amber liquid.  Alcohol. 

   "Who said you could drink?"

   "I did," she said.  "I am capable of making decisions about my own
body."

   "Not at eighteen, you're not," I said, striding over.  I wanted to run
far, far away, but I forced myself to approach her, to take a seat beside
her, to take the glass, my fingers brushing against hers.  The touch was
almost electric, enough to make the hairs on my arms rise, goosebumps
peppering my skin so fast that it could've been wildfire. 

   "Bring the whiskey," I said, downing the glass.  She'd had the right
idea; this was a night for drinking. 

   Willow got up, and disappeared into the living room, returning with a
bottle of Jack.  She topped me off, filling the glass to the brim. 

   "I want half," she declared. 

   "Don't tell Dad," I said, giving in.  True to my word, I let Willow have
the other half of the glass, watching as she gulped it down, drinking it
like it was water.  My eyes narrowed. 

   "Where the fuck did you learn that?"

   Her cheeks reddened in the darkness.  "I drink...  often."

   "How often?"

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   Whenever you fuck your girlfriend. 

   "I drink when I'm sad," I said truthfully. 

   Nick was quiet for a moment, his serious face on, like he was mulling
over my words, letting them sink in. 

   "How long have you been sad, Willow?"

   "Five years."

   "You've been drinking for five years?"

   I shook my head.  "No, only since this summer."

   Only since you moved in. 

   "What changed?"

   "I fell in love."

   He looked stunned, like love was a foreign thing -"or maybe he was just
surprised that love was making me sad.  Generally, it made people feel good
things. 

   "Does he not love you back?"

   "I think he does," I said.  "Just not the way I want him to."

   "He loves you as a friend?"

   I shook my head.  "More like a sister."

   "Ouch," Nick said, shaking his head.  "That's tough, Lolo.  I'm sorry."

   Me too. 

   Nick reached for the bottle of Jack and poured another glass. 

   "Here," he said, sliding it over on the table with the back of his hand.
"Drink that bastard away."

   I couldn't help but smile.  He smiled back, but his eyes were still sad.
I wished I knew what it was that made him so closed off from me, why he
looked broken every time he looked at me. 

   I downed the drink, giving zero fucks about the burn. 

   "Is Dad home?" Nick slurred a half hour later. 

   I nodded, giggling at the mortified expression on his face. 

   "Shhh," he hissed, cupping a hand over my mouth.  His skin was warm from
the alcohol, his palms a little sweaty, leaving behind a saltiness on my
lips that I wondered how I could lick without being noticed. 

   We were both drunk.  Like piss-ass drunk. 

   "Why do you avoid me?" I asked, finding my courage from the alcohol. 

   Nick made a face.  "What do you mean?"

   "You're...  closed off.  You barely even talk to me."

   His eyes were bloodshot red in the darkness, probably from lack of
sleep. I couldn't help but stare into them, my soul stirring, feeling those
intense feelings again, the feelings so big that I could barely contain
them in my body. 

   "I don't know, Willow," he said.  "I'm scared of you, I think."

   "Scared of what, exactly?"

   "How much I love you."

   How much I love you. 

   "Why is that a scary thing?"

   "Mom dying broke me, Lolo," he said, his voice thick.  "Losing you would
destroy me.  I wouldn't survive it."

   "Why aren't you like this with Dad or Jessica?  You're only closed off
from me."

   "Because I don't love them like I love you."

   "What's different about how you love me?"

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   "This is what's different," I whispered, taking the glass from her hand
and setting it down.  I took her face in my hands, the room swimming, time
slowing. 

   And then I kissed her. 

   I was expecting a lot of things, but her kissing me back was not one
of them.  She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close, opening
her mouth to let me taste her.  I slid my tongue along hers, my cock
hardening painfully in the boxers underneath my sweatpants.  She kissed me
like she was depraved, tasting like whiskey and burning like it, her
mouth hot and wet. 

   I was addicted to her. 

   And I was so fucking drunk.  I forgot who I was, and I forgot who she
was supposed to be -"I forgot what we were, what the real nature of our
relationship was.  At that moment, she was the single most important thing
in the universe, the center of it all, grounding me, making the flatline go
quiet, silencing the deafening noise in my brain. 

   That kiss became my escape. 

   "Nick?"

   I pulled back, my head pounding from the sudden movement, and I looked
over my shoulder.  The hallway light was on, and I could hear footsteps. 

   "What's going on in here?" Jess said, walking in and eyeing the empty
bottle of Jack.  She looked amused. 

   I glanced at Willow.  She was white as a sheet. 

   "Just reminiscing," I lied. 

   "Oh," Jess said, looking sympathetic. 

   Fuck.  I couldn't believe I'd just kissed a girl that wasn't Jess.  It'd
break her fucking heart.  She'd said she loved me, but this kind of shit
ended relationships.  I knew I should stand up and confess, lie and say it
had been some chick I'd randomly met, but with Willow there, I couldn't. 
That would cheapen what had just happened.  It would hurt her. 

   "Come back to bed," Jess said, looking sad.  She was probably thinking
about what I might've been reminiscing about.  Maybe she thought we'd been
talking about Mom.  I didn't want to think about what my mother would've
done if she'd lived long enough to find out that I'd kissed her little
girl. 

   Probably kill me. 

   "Come on," I said, taking Willow's hand and tugging her up.  Her hand
was cold. 

   "Y-You go," she whispered.  "I'll clean up."

   I wanted to stay, wanted to hold her, wanted to kiss her again,but Jess
was there, her eyes big, watching me with empathy that I didn't deserve. 

   So I left my sister behind. 

   Again. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   I woke up on the couch, my eyes crusted from crying myself to sleep. 
Dad was there, gently shaking my shoulder to wake me. 

   "You all right?" he asked.  "You look sick."

   You're right.  I am.

   "I had a long night," I admitted. 

   "From drinking this?" Dad said, holding up the empty bottle of Jack.  My
eyes went wide.  I'd thrown that out in the trash outside.  I didn't know
how he'd figured it out. 

   "How -""

   "Because you reek of alcohol."

   "I can explain."

   "I'm sure you can.  Go up to your room.  I can't look at you right now."

   I obeyed, fleeing the room, running up the stairs, my heart beating
erratically in my chest.  My head was pounding.  I could barely walk
straight.  I was hungover as hell. 

   A part of me wondered if I'd just dreamt it all. 

   "Willow."

   Nick was standing by the banister, looking down at me with tired,
concerned eyes. 

   "We need to talk."

   I walked up and brushed past him, right into the bathroom and locking
myself in.  I walked immediately to the toilet, fell to my knees on the
cold tile floor, and threw up. 

   There was incessant knocking on the door. 

   "Willow."

   "Go away."

   "Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine."

   "You don't sound fine."

   My throat was burning.  I didn't want to talk anymore. 

   "Go away," I repeated.  I heard a sliding noise, and saw from under the
crack of the door that Nick had sat right outside of it to wait for me.  He
wasn't going to let me escape him. 

   After half an hour, I rose to my feet and brushed my teeth, gurgling to
get the taste of bile out of my throat.  I splashed my face with cold
water. Nick's shadow was still under the door.  He hadn't moved. 

   "Please open the door," he said, breaking the silence. 

   "I don't want to talk right now."

   "I just want to see that you're okay.  We don't have to talk."

   I walked over to the door and opened it.  Nick was leaning his back
against it.  He got to his feet, dusting off his hands. 

   "There," I said.  "Now you can see that I'm fine."

   "You're not," he said, putting the back of his hand on my forehead. 
"You're warm."

   I shied away from him, wilting like a flower, my skin burning white-hot
from where he'd touched me.  I remembered what it had felt like when his
forehead had touched mine while we'd kissed, his tongue tasting mine, rough
yet gentle, like he was feverishly spilling all his secrets, telling me
things I shouldn't know. 

   Like the fact that he wanted to kiss me. 

   "I'll bring you some Advil.  Go lie down."

   "I don't need Advil."

   I need you.

   I stared at him blankly and then walked away. 

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   I followed Willow to her room, kicking the door closed behind me.  She
turned around, surprised that I'd come after her.  I guess it was a huge
change, this whole thing of me no longer avoiding her. 

   "I'm sorry," I said. 

   Tears filled her eyes. 

   "I knew you'd be," she choked out.  "I fucking knew it."

   "Are you kidding me?  Willow, we broke the fucking law."

   "We didn't break shit," she said, eyes dark and determined.  "It's not
like we had sex."

   "Shhhh, lower your voice," I hissed. 

   "Tough shit.  It happened," she said.  "It happened and you don't even
give a fuck."

   "We were drunk, Willow.  We weren't thinking straight."

   "You regret it," she said bitterly. 

   "You don't?" I asked, feigning disgust.  I hated that I was doing it,
hurting her like this, but I knew I had to.  She was so young -"too young
to be caught up in this bullshit.  She was still at an impressionable age.
I couldn't take advantage of her. 

   "What happened -"it can't again," I said.  "We both know it was wrong."

   "Wrong to you," she spat, emphasizing every word.  She sat down on her
bed, looking at me with wild, angry eyes. 

   "Willow, listen to me," I said, walking over.  I got down on one knee in
front of her and took her hand.  "Last night -"it cannot happen again. 
Ever."

   Willow nodded, tears streaming down her face.  I reached up and wiped
them away, cupping her cheek in my hand.  Looking at her was filling my
heart to the brim.  I felt a surge of love for her -"and it scared the shit
out of me.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to run from all of it. 

   But I couldn't be selfish anymore. 

   "Why can't we be together?" Willow whispered.

   "You know why."

   "Just break up with her," Willow said.  "She'll understand."

   "Who -"Jess?  I'm already going to break up with her.  Jess isn't the
concern here.  What you're proposing is illegal, Willow.  We could end up
in jail."

   "No one has to know."

   No one has to know. It was tempting.  If she'd been a little older, my
age maybe, I might have allowed myself the luxury of fantasizing about it.
But she was still only eighteen. 

   "No," I said, shaking my head.  "This is never happening.  Do you hear
me?  Never." 

   "Get the fuck away from me then."

   "Willow -""

   "I'm serious.  Get out or I'll scream."

   "Okay," I said, getting up and backing away.  I left her there alone in
her room.  As I was closing the door behind me, I heard her muffled sob. 
The sound of it cracked my heart right down the middle.  I decided that
moment that I was going to be moving out. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   For three months I'd been crying myself to sleep every night.  I'd wake
up with my pillow still soaked, my eyes crusted shut, wiping them and
feeling the pain of it all, reliving that moment when Nick had walked out
of the door. 

   It had been that very morning, and he hadn't looked back. 

   He was back to avoiding me, but this time I wasn't mad at him for it.  I
knew that he was trying to protect me, that this time it wasn't selfish. 

   I guess I'd forgotten it was illegal. 

   The days all blurred one into another; I couldn't tell Monday apart from
Saturday.  Time had slowed somehow, inching along, drawing out my days,
drawing out my pain, piercing my heart with each moment that I had the
opportunity to think about him -"and fuck did I think about him.  I thought
about his eyes, his hands, his mouth, how he'd made me feel, how he'd
tilted the world off its axis, righting it somehow, like it had always been
askew. 

   But now it felt like the world was upside-down. 

   "Something's wrong," I'd heard Dad say into the phone the other day. 
"She's barely eating.  She won't talk.  She won't do anything but sit there
by the window and look out of it all day."

   I was waiting for Nick to come back.  I wanted to be the first one to
see him.  But he never came. 

   Nick sent checks in the mail, a couple of hundred dollars every two
weeks, made out to us, the Weavers, me and Dad.  It was money that could've
helped, money that would've let Dad take up fewer shifts, but he ripped all
the checks up.  True to his word, he wasn't accepting a penny without Nick
living under his roof.

   School started in September.  I didn't want to go, but I went through
the motions of looking normal so that Dad would stop worrying.  I'd come
home from college, make dinner and wait for Dad so I could tell him about
my day.  We'd talk about things like the weather and the news, but
otherwise we didn't really have anything in common.  We were just filling
up the emptiness with words; the emptiness that only Nick could fill. 

   October was a haunting month for me.  I relived that night in my dreams,
feeling that pleasure, that desire, that lust -"and then losing it, losing
him, losing my world, my everything. 

   I was haunted by my memories of him. 

   I went to a party for Halloween, clinging to the few friends I'd made,
following them around and acting like a complete wallflower.  A few guys
approached me and tried talking to me, but I was so closed off, so reserved
and used so few words in my replies that they eventually backed off and
bled back into the crowd to find someone else to fuck. 

   I hadn't gone to the party to lose my virginity, anyway.  I was saving
it.  I didn't even know why.  It wasn't like I could give it to Nick.  I
couldn't risk him going to jail. 

   In November, Nick finally came home. 

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   I drove with my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too
hard. I'd felt sick all day, sick with worry, sick with disappointment in
myself.  I'd spent months trying to forget her, months trying to move on,
months trying to escape the sound of the flatline on my own, but nothing
had worked. 

   Not work, not alcohol, not sex. 

   The only thing that could've saved me was Willow, but I could never have
her.  I could never feel her lips on mine again, never again feel that pull
I'd felt from the center of my chest, like the universe was drawing me to
her, like we belonged together. 

   I remained lost, incomplete and broken.

   I wasn't entirely sure if it was a good idea to come home for
Thanksgiving, but I'd promised Dad.  He'd been complaining about me not
visiting even though I was only an hour's drive away.  He'd visited twice,
but Willow never came with him.  She stayed away, just like I stayed
away. 

   We were protecting each other. 

   But now it was Thanksgiving, and I didn't know if we were strong enough
to fight it.  I knew that I was already weakened, my soul starved for her,
my resolve breaking day by day.  The only thing stopping me from getting in
the car and driving to her was the image of her in a jail cell. 

   Today I had no choice but to make that drive. 

   "Glad you could make it," Dad said when he answered the door.  We
managed a hug, a tight one that isn't usually shared by fathers and their
grown, twenty-five-year-old sons, but we didn't really care.  It had been
too long. 

   "Willow's in the kitchen," Dad said.  I nodded and crossed the
threshold, acutely aware of her presence already, like my body could
already sense her nearby.  I walked to the kitchen, my heart thudding in my
chest like the wings of an untamed bird, wild but caged. 

   "Nick." Her voice was so soft, softer than I remembered. 

   "Willow."

   We stood awkwardly, watching each other.  She'd grown thin, her elbow
bones jutting out, her face pinched and cheeks caved in. 

   It broke my fucking heart. 

   "Come here," I said, and she rushed into my arms, crossing the distance
in seconds, skidding her shoes on the kitchen tile, slipping and tumbling
right into my arms.  I caught her and steadied her, holding her tightly,
breathing harshly because this...  this was electric. Sparks flew,
jolting my body, like I'd suddenly been doused with ice-cold water, like I
was finally awake after months. 

   The sound of the flatline faded. 

   She pulled back, her eyes full of tears, smiling a brilliant smile.  She
was so fucking happy. 

   "You've changed," she said, feeling my stubble and tracing the deep
circles under my eyes. 

   "So have you."

   We both looked at each other with pained eyes.  This was what our love
had done to us: destroyed us.  We were sick. We were sick in our love for
each other. 

   All rooted from that one drunken kiss. 

   "I've missed you," I told her.  God, how I'd missed her: the scent of
her vanilla body spray, the warmth of her body, the delicate bones that I
held carefully, cradling her to me, making me feel completely and
utterly lost. My heart ached for her, ached to be with her, to take her
loneliness and mine and rectify it somehow. 

   So I kissed her. 

   It was brief, it was chaste, it was almost as if it didn't happen. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   I reeled back, my hand going to my chest, my breath already lost, taken
and stolen by his lips. 

   "Nick," I said weakly.  I wanted to fucking cry: A, because he'd kissed
me; B, because we couldn't do it again; and C, because he'd kissed me. 

   "I know," he said, his green eyes sadder than I'd ever seen them before.
"I'm sorry."

   "Don't be," I whispered.  "Please, don't ever be sorry."

   "Okay," he said.  "I'm not really sorry anyway."

   "When did you learn to lie?" I asked.

   "I learned to get good at it over these last few months of lying to
myself every single day."

   I turned away from him, overwhelmed.  I stalked back to the oven,
focusing on the turkey, my hands shaking as I lowered the oven door and
basted the bird.

   I'd been cooking Thanksgiving dinner since I was fourteen-years-old, the
year after Mom passed.  I'd done it for Dad because back then it had just
been him and me, holding the pieces together, pretending we were still a
family.  Nick only came home for Thanksgiving once atfer Mom passed, and it
was the year I turned sixteen.  All I remembered were his eyes, dark and
cloudy, sitting at the dinner table sullen, broken, putting a fake smile on
for us. 

   "Tell me how I can help," he said, coming to stand beside me.  I shook
my head. 

   "I'm fine.  Go make yourself a drink.  I bet the drive with the holiday
rush sucked."

   He didn't look like he wanted to leave my side, but I think a part of
him also knew that he should.  The latter won. 

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   Dad got me hammered.  I knew he was doing it because he wanted me to be
so inebriated that I couldn't drive home, but I acted as if I hadn't caught
on, taking drink after drink to wash down the sob in my throat.  I was a
man; I didn't cry. 

   But seeing Willow, seeing how much she'd suffered -"that broke me. 

   It was as if all the light had been stripped of my eyes, as if I was
being bled out, like I was experiencing the death of myself, of who I was,
of the man that I'd told myself I would be -"but I couldn't do it.  I
needed to get the fuck out of there before I made a mistake I'd regret for
the rest of my life.

   "I have to go," I slurred, clasping Dad's shoulder.  "I'll take an
Uber."

   "No, you're not." It was Willow, standing by the doorway, arms crossed.
Her words had come out like bullets, angry and destructive. 

   "What did you do to him?" she shot at Dad, glaring.  He put up his hands
in defeat and said something about needing to take the load off. 

   "You two disappoint me," she said, and then she turned and walked
away. 

   I stumbled after her, following her up the stairs, wondering where the
fuck she was going. 

   The bathroom. 

   Just as she was closing the door, I stuck my foot out and stopped it.  I
shouldered my way into the bathroom, and she stepped back, shocked.  I shut
the door behind me and locked it. 

   "I'm in love with you," I rasped, and walked over to her, took her face
in my hands and kissed her.  She tasted divine, like everything beautiful
and pure in the world, her lips soft and pillowy, giving me sustenance,
giving me life.  I kissed her hungrily, starved, swallowing up her
sadness and her whimpers, tasting her tears.  She kissed me back, her lips
moving with mine, opening her mouth and finally letting me taste her,
gripping me desperately with her hands fisting my shirt. 

   I turned her around and pressed her back against the door, kissing her
against it, lifting one of her long legs around my hip.  She moaned, her
lips hot, burning me with her little mouth.  My hips fit between her legs,
my hands traveling down to take her ass in my hands, pulling her to me,
using her body to grind against mine.  I was hard, so hard that it hurt, so
hard that it was becoming impossible to think.  I needed my release.  I
needed her.

   She seemed to understand, reaching between us as I kissed her, undoing
my belt buckle, pulling down the zipper, slipping her hands under the
waistband of my boxers.  Her hand closed around the length of my erection,
thick and throbbing for her.  She was breathing hard in my mouth as she
fisted my cock, stroking up and down as I groaned, shutting my eyes closed
from the blinding pleasure.  I almost blew my load right there in her palm
-" 

   "Kids?" Knuckles rapped on the door.  "What's going on in there?" 

   Willow pushed me off of her, her eyes wild.  She was scared.

   "It's okay," I mouthed, zipping up my pants. 

   "We're talking," I said, hating that my words were still coming out in a
slur. 

   Dad tried the door handle.  "Why is this locked?" 

   "I locked it," Willow lied, her voice small.  "I was cornering Nick.  I
was trying to keep him from leaving before having dinner."

   We straightened up, took a ragged breath and opened the door.  Dad was
standing outside, and I'll give Willow some credit, her lie really had
worked at first, but then Dad looked at us, really looked at us: messy
hair, swollen lips, clothes wrinkled, still breathing hard. 

   "No," Dad said, his hands closing up in fists.  "Tell me you two weren't
in there doing what I think you were doing." 

   "What do you think we were doing?" I asked in a casual tone. 

   Willow looked like she was about to cry.  I was surprised she was still
holding it together. 

   "What were we doing, Dad?" I asked.

   "Nick," Willow said in warning.  Dad glanced at her, caught the wild
look in her eyes and somehow pieced together that I'd taken advantage of
his baby girl.  One moment I was standing there, trying to make sense of
the situation, and the next I was punched in the face so hard that I
stumbled and fell to my knees.  Willow screamed, grabbing my arm to try to
steady me, but I was too drunk to regain my balance.  I fell on my ass and
looked up at Dad. 

   "You're disgusting," Willow said to him.  "I can't believe you would
think something like that!  He's my brother."

   "Don't try and pull a fast one on me, Willow Serene Weaver," Dad said,
taking her roughly by the arm.  I rose to my feet in an instant. 

   "Let her go."

   Dad and I were the same height, both 6'3", but there was no way he'd win
in a fight against me.  I worked out, he didn't.  I was strong enough to
seriously injure him.  He seemed to work that out in his head fast enough
because he let Willow go.  She stepped back, her back hitting the hallway
wall, cowering against it like she expected him to strike her.  I stepped
between them. 

   "Nothing happened," I told Dad.  I tasted blood in my mouth, refraining
from spitting it out on the floor.

   "I want you out of this house."

   "Dad -"" Willow said, looking panicked. 

   "Not a word," Dad said, glaring.  "I don't want to hear it."

   "It's fine, Lolo," I said, softening my tone.  "I'll go."

   "Forget about him," I heard him saying to her as I descended the stairs.
"It's -"It's unnatural, Willow.  The two of you can't do what you were
doing.  Do you understand me?"

   She was crying.  "Daddy, it wasn't like you think.  Nothing happened. 
You misunderstood what happened.  You punched Nick for nothing and now he's
leaving.  Stop him, Daddy. Please." 

   She knew that I was about to walk out of the door for the last time. 

   "Daddy, let me go to him," she said, but he wouldn't let her.  I almost
went back to have him release her, but I knew that he wouldn't hurt her. 
She was too precious, too innocent.  He didn't blame her for any of this;
he blamed me. 

   "Daddy, please," she sobbed as I put my coat on, zipping up for the
cold. 

   I didn't look back. 

   I just left. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   Dust had settled in my heart.  It ached, beating sluggishly, pumping so
slow and so methodically that a delicate thing like dust could find its
home there.  I was numb from the insides, so numb that I felt it expand to
my fingertips, to my toes, to every inch of my body, until I felt nothing,
nothing at all. 

   I was so in love that I was sick. It was sick how much I loved my
own brother, how much I craved his presence, his body, the warmth, the
sparks.  It was sick that all I could think about was the way he'd kissed
me, tenderly yet passionately, like my lips were his life-force, like he
needed me to survive. 

   I was sick, infected, diseased, corrupted. 

   And there was no cure. 

   Dad tried his best to make things right between us.  I could tell he was
grieving, that he hadn't actually expected Nick to walk away from us, but
he was too prideful to call him and ask him to come back, and it was
killing him.  Dad seemed to blame himself for this whole thing, like it was
his fault that Nick and I were in love, like it was his parenting that had
led to all of this madness -"even though it really wasn't.  Nick and I had
always been meant for each other; we were soulmates.

   Dad did sweet, awkward little things to try and make me feel better.  He
brought home DVDs of my favorite childhood movies, slipping them under the
door, and kept the freezer stocked with Ben & Jerry's.  He even tried
setting me up with his co-worker's son, some guy I'd known from high school
who was nice, but he wasn't Nick.  I appreciated what Dad was trying to do,
but he couldn't pull the sadness out of me.  It stayed there in the center
of my chest, anchored deep down in there, heavy, pulling me down to
drown. 

   I called Nick every single day.  Not enough to bother him, just once in
the evening, exactly seven PM each night.  The phone would ring and ring
and then I'd hear the sound of his voice.

   "This is Nick Weaver.  I can't come to the phone right now, but if you
leave a message with your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as
possible."

   It was a lie.  I always left a message, but he never called back. 

   Everywhere I looked, I saw him and those light green eyes, bright, like
pools of melted glass.  Our eyes were the same, but we saw the world
differently.  Nick was cool and collected, his mind sharp, and every move
calculated.  He always knew what he wanted, always figured things out
before anyone else, always achieved what he set out to achieve.  Me?  I was
a tangle of long hair, long legs, and a long face from always letting
something upset me.  I never had my life figured out, never knew what I
wanted to accomplish. 

   I still remembered the salt in his kiss, that drunken night we'd crossed
the line, the way he'd treated me like I was the most precious thing in the
world.  I remembered him telling me that he was in love with me, pushing me
up against the door, looking at me with pleading eyes as I'd reached
between us and took a hold of his stiff length, jacking him off until he
was about to come.  It was the first and only sexual thing we'd ever
done. 

   I cherished the memory. 

   So I touched myself at night, pretending it was him, pretending it was
us, pretending we were giving each other pleasure, soft sighs and throaty
moans, loving each other the grown-up way, man and woman, tangled in bed
together.  I imagined his hands on me, stroking down my body, parting my
legs, slipping his fingers inside of me, fucking me with them, making me
come. 

   I never touched myself to the thought of inviting him into my body -"it
just hurt too much, knowing that with all the possibilities and all the
mistakes we could ever make, this wouldn't be one.  I didn't want Nick to
go to jail. 

   No one has to know, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered. 

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   "Willow, faster baby," I groaned, my cock fisted in my hand, squeezing
and stroking myself.  I had my eyes shut, remembering the look she'd had on
her face, the way she'd bit her bottom lip, her eyes glazed with lust.  I
imagined her moan, a little mewl like a kitten, gasping as I thickened in
her hand -"and suddenly I was coming. 

   "Ah, fuck." 

   My stomach muscles contracted and my chest heaved as I tried to catch my
breath.  I rolled over in bed and grabbed some tissues to clean up the mess
I'd made.  My hands were sticky with thick white cum.  I wiped myself clean
and wadded up the dirty tissues, setting them on the bedside table to throw
away later. 

   It was almost seven PM.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't waiting for
Willow's call.  She always left a voicemail telling me about her day, and
I'd listen, smiling and trying not to cry.  I'd helped my parents raise
her, and now my baby was all grown up, going to college and driving and
even looking for her first job for some pocket money.  I added some extra
cash in my checks, hoping she'd understand that it was for her, hoping that
she knew that I was listening, that I was still her big brother and still
cared about her, still loved her like hell. 

   I'd guarded myself for years, putting up walls between us, trying my
hardest to keep Willow at a distance so I wouldn't love her more, wouldn't
become more attached than I already was, but it had been stupid to even
try. It used to scare me to be around her, and now it was the opposite; I
needed her like I needed air, like I needed to breathe, like my heart
needed to beat.  She was the girl who made the flatline go quiet. 

   Except she wasn't mine.

   Jess came around from time to time.  We were broken up, but sometimes
the two of us needed a release.  Dry spells weren't possible for either of
us at this age.  We didn't fuck like rabbits like we used to, but once or
twice a week, she'd come over and I'd make love to her, slow and sweet like
she'd like it, trying my best not to pound into her with the image of
Willow in my mind. 

   Jess knew I was in love with someone else. 

   "I wish it was me," she'd said once after sex. 

   Me too, I almost said just to spare her feelings.  But I couldn't do
it. I couldn't lie when it came to my feelings for Willow. 

   At exactly seven, my phone rang.  I let it go to voicemail, sitting back
and waiting.  In two minutes, I got the notification. 

   "Hey bro," Willow said in the voicemail.  "Today I met someone at my
Tuesday lecture.  His name's Chase.  He asked me out and I said...  yes. 
We're going out to the movies tonight.  I'm about to leave so I have to
keep this short.  Just wanted you to know that I love you and I really hope
whatever you do, wherever you are, that you're happy."

   She met someone. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   Chase had a hand on my knee while he drove me to the movies.  That
single act alone told me exactly how the rest of the night was going to go.

   "What do you want to watch, Willow?" he asked in that typical jock
drawl. His blonde hair was tousled and wild from having the window down on
the highway.  I met his eyes, hazel and warm.  Chase could come off a
little sleazy, but he was still the guy who had held open doors for me and
said nice things to me. 

   And I needed a little kindness these days. 

   We watched some movie about a woman who was hired by the government to
communicate with an alien life-form that had landed on Earth.  I got a
little engrossed in it, ignoring Chase to watch intently.  The aliens
unlocked time, showing that it was not a linear thing, that it wasn't a
straight, chronological line.  The woman saw her daughter live, and then
die of an illness at a young age.  And you know what?  She had that
daughter anyway, despite knowing how it would turn out at the end. 

   And that's how I felt about Nick.  Despite knowing that I'd end up
losing him, I'd still do it again and again.  It was worth just to have him
for as long as I did.  Just a taste, but enough to last a lifetime. 

   By the end of the movie, Chase was sulking.  I hadn't held his hand when
he'd offered it, and I had turned my head when he'd tried kissing me.  I
just wasn't ready yet -"and I knew it wasn't fair to him, but what could I
do?  I was trying to move on.  It was just really hard.  I needed someone
who understood baby steps.  I didn't think Chase was going to be the right
guy for me. 

   "Did you have a nice time tonight?" Chase asked me in the parking lot.
"Because I sure didn't."

   I looked away.  So that was how he wanted to play it. 

   "Did you hear me?" he said.  "I'm talking to you, Loco Lolo."

   My eyes flashed toward him.  Was that what they called me at school?

   "Don't call me that," I said, hugging myself.  It offered no comfort. 

   "Everyone warned me that Loco Lolo was weird.  They were right.  I
couldn't even get a single glance out of you tonight."

   Tears filled my eyes. 

   "Please don't -""

   Chase pushed me roughly against his car. 

   "Prove to me you're not loco," he said.  "I won't tell everyone how
fucked up you are if you do something for me in return."

   I tried pushing him off me, but he was too strong.  He gave me a wolfish
grin, taking both my hands and making me touch his chest.  I fisted his
sweater, scared out of my mind.  I knew what he wanted. 

   "Touch me, Willow," he said.  "Touch me and I won't tell."

   "No," I said, pushing again, and this time he went flying. I blinked
back my tears, looking around and finding a figure in the shadows grabbing
Chase, picking him up and shaking him. 

   "Touch her again and I'll bury you."

   Nick?

   I saw his dark hair glimmering from the street lights, his body tall,
muscular, an expression of immense anger on his handsome features.  He
looked like he was about to punch Chase. 

   "Don't!" I yelled, running over to grab my brother's arm.  "Don't do it,
Nick!"

   He glanced at me, his green eyes on fire, softening as they took in the
look of fear on my face.  He dropped Chase and reached for me.  I melted
into his embrace, wrapped my arms around his warm body, taking in the scent
of his cologne, the sound of the thud of his heartbeat. 

   "Are you okay?" he whispered in my ear.  I nodded and squeezed him
tighter, making him chuckle.  At some point we heard Chase's car start and
then peel away, and that's when the cold settled back into my heart.  We
shouldn't be here alone. 

   "Take me home, please."

   Nick looked sad as he let me go.  Had he been expecting a different
reaction?

   "Wait," I said, grabbing his wrist.  "Why did you come here tonight?"

   "Because I was jealous, Willow."

   Jealous? I released his hand.

   "So what, I'm not allowed to date?" I asked, crossing my arms. 

   "You're not allowed to date assholes," he corrected. 

   "And who are you to tell me who to date?" I snapped.  "You walked away,
remember?  You don't get to have an opinion."

   "I'm still your big brother."

   "Yeah?  Could've fooled me.  I haven't heard from you in months."

   "What do you want me to do, huh?  You want me to, what, kiss you?  Fuck
you?  Call you my girlfriend?"

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   "YES!" Willow yelled at me.  "That's exactly what I fucking want, but
we can't!"

   "Don't shout," I said, pulling her back into my arms.  I stroked her
hair, soothing and shushing her.  She began to cry.  My heart ached from
the sound, taking me back to when she was a little kid, when she'd do it
just to get my attention.  She'd been obsessed with me, tagging along
everywhere, following me like a little duckling.  I used to call her Ducky
because of it. 

   "Don't cry, Ducky."

   She laughed a sniffly laugh.  "Ducky.  Haven't heard that in years."

   "You haven't acted like a complete baby in a long time."

   "Yes, I have.  I've been acting like a baby ever since that first kiss."

   I looked down at her, those hopeful green eyes glittering as they looked
back up at me.  What did she expect was going to be different this time? 
She was right -"we couldn't do this...  but why the fuck was it so hard? 
And why did we both want it so much?

   "I'm in love with you, Nick.  I don't know when you developed feelings
for me, but I've had them for you since I saw you again after all these
years."

   I hadn't really thought of Willow romantically for very long.  She'd
always been my baby sister.  It wasn't until I'd come home this summer and
saw her young, barely legal body, slender and tall, curves in all the right
places -"fuck. That's when it had happened for me, that's when I'd begun
to think of her differently.  But when had it become more?  I wasn't too
sure.  I'd always loved her, but sometime in the last few months, the lines
had blurred and I'd fallen in love. 

   "I've always loved you," I told her truthfully.

   "Do you still love me?" she asked. 

   "I will always love you, Willow."

   "But will you always be in love with me?"

   I nodded.  "There's no going back for me."

   "But there's no going forward either," she whispered, her voice small. 

   I thought about it for a minute, thought about all the suffering, the
pain, the loneliness -"and decided it was pointless.  How long were we
supposed to go on like this?  These feelings weren't going to fade. 

   Fuck it. 

   "No one has to know," I said. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   No one has to know. 

   The words were like poison, seeping into my skin, into my veins and my
blood and my bones, making my vision blurry and my heart pump. 

   No one has to know. 

   I'd been hanging on by a thread, drifting in the void, trying to make
sense of the loneliness, and now my brother had thrown me a life-saving
rope. 

   No one has to know. 

   I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down, and he obliged, his
face coming to meet mine, our lips finally touching.  We kissed like we
hadn't done it before; awkward, sloppy, unplanned -"and good, so fucking
good.  It was electric, like a magnetic pull, drawing us close in the
darkness, linking us together like atoms to create molecules of something
more, something wonderful. 

   With that one kiss alone, I felt all the sadness shatter, destroyed by
our love. 

   Life had been a straight line until that moment.  Time had been a simple
concept, a chronological leap in seconds, but everything felt redefined
now. Time was a jump from one memory into the next, of all those laughs,
skinned knees and treehouses and swinging baseball bats.  Time was
Christmas mornings and flannel pajamas, ripping through wrapping paper
together, toasted marshmallows and roast turkey.  Time was my brother's
football games, his wide shoulders in the distance, running fast as
lightning, scoring a touchdown that made the crowd go wild, making my heart
swell with pride.  Time was stealing cookies together, camping in the
backyard, making forts in the living room, and kissing in the kitchen,
drunk out of our minds. 

   Time was then, and time was now, and it was all the same. 

   I'd loved him then, I loved him now, and it was all the same. 

   Nick picked me up, biting my lower lip as he walked us to his car.  We
tumbled into the driver's seat with me squirming on his lap, weaving my
fingers into his hair while I kissed him, tasting him with my tongue.  Nick
adjusted the seat as far back as it would go, and then we were both
reaching for his belt buckle.  We worked on it quickly, undoing it, pulling
down the zipper, unbuttoning and then my hands were reaching down, fisting
his thick erection, feeling the heat of his arousal. 

   Oh, god. 

   Nick stroked my body, his hands following the gentle dips of my curves,
his hands slipping under my shirt.  He undid my bra and then slipped his
hand under the cups, taking my breasts with a soft squeeze.  Soft sighs and
throaty moans, just as I'd imagined them.  We explored each other's bodies,
stroking and kissing and squeezing, doing everything slowly, savoring the
moment. 

   "I want you so fucking bad, baby," Nick said as I rolled my hips on his
lap, moaning as he pinched my nipples.  I spat on my hand, wetting it nice
and good to jack him off, going fast with the lubricant of my saliva.  Nick
threw his head back and groaned.  I took the opportunity to kiss his neck,
nipping and making him gasp in surprise.  I giggled, and he pinched my
nipples again, harder this time.  I hissed, quickening the pace of the
handjob, feeling his cock thicken in my hands, smiling slyly, knowing it
was me that did this to him. 

   "Climb in the back," Nick said, stopping me suddenly.  My cheeks
reddened.  Did he mean...?

   "Unless you don't want to," he said, reading my surprise as hesitance.

   "Of course I fucking want to," I said, getting off his lap and climbing
into the back seat of his car.  Nick followed me, and I heard his jeans
drop to the floor somewhere.  He was in his boxer briefs and his t-shirt
now, pretty much fully-clothed, and yet I'd never seen a sexier man.  His
hair was mussed up, and his eyes were dark with lust, his lips swollen from
the kissing. 

   "Are you going to fuck me tonight, Nick?"

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   "No." 

   There was a point of no return, and we'd probably already crossed it,
but I was going to pretend we hadn't; I needed to push this a little
farther, just enough to give her the pleasure she gave me. 

   "Nick," she said, pouting.  "'No one has to know.' Remember?"

   "I know, baby," I said, taking her face in my hands.  "But we can't go
all the way, okay?  We'll just...  I don't know, fool around."

   "Fool around," she repeated, sounding unimpressed. 

   "Shut up and trust me," I said, kissing her slowly, tenderly, stealing
her breath from her lips.  She whimpered, wrapping her skinny arms around
my neck, hands slipping in between locks of my hair, gripping it as I laid
her down on the backseat.  I hooked my thumbs on the waistband on her
jeans, pulling it down her long, slender legs.  She wore pink lacy panties
underneath, and I knew immediately that it hadn't been for the other guy,
she'd put them on for me; everything she did was for me. 

   At least that's what I told myself. 

   "You're so perfect," I said, taking in the sight of her lying there, her
dark hair spread out on the seat, looking up at me with those glowing green
eyes, bright even in the darkness.  I felt a surge of emotions: happiness,
joy, love.  I would've worshipped the ground she walked on, would've
cracked the earth down to its center to find her, would've given her the
moon, the stars, all the glittering dust in the night sky.  I loved her so
much.

   Did I want to fuck her?  Take my fat cock, rub it up and down her wet
pussy, lubricate myself with her juices and slowly sink into her?  Of
course I fucking did.  It was sick how much the idea of fucking my little
sister turned me on.  It was sick how I wanted her, vulnerable and
innocent, pure and perfect, being ruined by a bastard like me.  I wanted
her, but I respected her more. 

   One day, Willow was going to find someone and live a normal life.  I
wasn't going to taint her forever. 

   Instead, I slipped my fingers under her panties, grinning at her little
mewls of pleasure, dipping my head down, kissing along her inner thighs. 
She gasped, fingers gripping my hair, and begged me to lick her.  I
obliged. 

   Fuck, she tasted good.  Musky, tangy and sweet, like her mouth had been
the meal and her pussy the dessert.  I ate her out, my tongue lapping at
her soaking wet folds, sucking in the flavor that burst on my tongue,
euphoric in taste.  More.  I needed more.  I slowly slipped a finger inside
of her -"and she stiffened. 

   No way. 

   "Are you still a virgin, Ducky?" 

   Her face had turned a little pink.  "So what if I am?"

   I groaned.  She'd just become a million times harder to resist.  I knew
for a fact that no one would be as gentle with her as I would, no one would
show her that 'making love' wasn't just words for 'sex', that it didn't
have to hurt, that it could feel good, so good.  I wanted to take her right
then, but I knewbetter.  I couldn't.  I wouldn't. 

   I played with her clit instead, circling it until it became swollen,
running my rough thumb over it as I licked her pussy.  She was so tight
that all I dared to enter inside of her was my tongue, licking her tight
walls as she moaned.  She squirmed, her hips lifting off the seat when I
placed my mouth over her clit and licked it, lapping and sucking and
nibbling until her legs closed around my shoulders, squeezing tighter and
tighter. 

   "I'm going to come, Nick!" she cried out, gasping and moaning, her body
tensing, almost as if it was preparing for the powerful orgasm I was about
to give her. 

   She stiffened, tears welling up in her eyes, her mouth rounded in a
silent "O." I increased the pace, my lips closed around her swollen clit,
circling it with my tongue and then running it roughly over the top -"and
that's when she finally came. 

   "Oh my goddddd," she sobbed, her thighs quaking from the pleasure.  Her
juicy little cunt clenched and unclenched around my tongue, making my cock
throb harder.  I needed to be inside of her, to tear into her innocence and
claim it as mine, to take from her what she could give to no other -"but
still, I couldn't.  I couldn't ruin her.  She would never be able to move
on if I took that from her. 

   And I knew that someday this all had to end. 

   "Your turn," she said after a couple of minutes of recovery.  She pushed
me back against the seat and got down on her knees in front of me, looking
up at me with those startling jade eyes, stunning me with one look alone.
She pulled down the waistband of my boxer briefs, and my cock sprang out,
begging for her touch.  She did me one better. 

   "Mmmf," she moaned, her mouth closing around my thick erection.  My body
jolted in both surprise and pleasure.  I slipped my fingers into her hair,
helping her bob up and down on my cock -"and god, it was electrifying. 
Her tongue swirled the tip, tasting my pre-cum, smacking her lips and
smiling, the feelings hitting me right in the center of my chest: desire,
lust and adoration.  I worshipped this girl. 

   She looked like an angel as she sucked me off, innocent and blameless in
all of this, committing no sin that I hadn't roped her into.  I let her
have my soul, let her do with it as she pleased, even tear it to shreds if
she so wanted.  With each second that passed, I got closer to my release,
closer to some kind of god-tier orgasm, building up inside of me as my baby
sister took me deeper in her throat, gagging a little but then soldiering
on, swallowing to contract her throat muscles around my cock.  It
was divine.

   "I'm going to come," I warned her, groaning as she swallowed me deeper
down her throat, fitting all of my cock inside of her.  I realized then
that I was about to deliver my sister a belly full of my seed. God, the
thought of it alone finally tipped me off the edge.  I
came, hard. Spurting, spilling, pulsing inside of her throat, sending
thick ropes of cum straight down to her tummy.  She swallowed dutifully,
her eyes watering and tears slipping down the corners of her eyes. 

   "Aw, baby," I said, helping her up onto my lap.  I wiped her mouth with
the back of my hand and kissed away her tears.  She wrapped her arms around
my neck, nuzzling into my chest, breathing deeply; in, out, in, out... 

   I couldn't hear the flatline, not even faintly.  Willow had made it
stop. 

   She'd made it stop. 

    -" -" -"

   Willow

    -" -" -"

   I fell asleep in my brother's arms, a wide smile on my face, snuggling
close to him.  He stroked my hair, whispering sweet nothings, sweet
everythings, filling me with those feelings that I'd been craving:
forgiveness, hope, and love.  In my brother's strong arms, everything felt
right in the world.  He was the perfect man for me.  Who else would be able
to understand me the way he did.  Who else knew how to love me better than
he did? 

   Nick watched me grow up.  He raised me.  He knew me.

   "I love you," I mumbled as I began to doze off. 

   "I love you, too, Lolo..."

    -"

   I woke in an unfamiliar bed, dressed only in my bra and underwear.  I
sat up, drawing the sheets up to cover myself.  I knew from the shelves of
model airplanes that I was in my brother's apartment.  He liked building
them.  Dead-center on the shelves was the Vought F4U-1 Corsair "Birdcage"
we'd built together. 

   I crawled out of bed, taking the sheet with me, wrapping it around
myself as my feet padded the soft carpeted floors.  The apartment was
sparsely furnished, but it looked lived-in.  There were some picture frames
hung on the hallway.  All of them were of our family, but mostly me.  He'd
hung up the embarrassing one from when I was six, missing both my front
teeth, giving the camera a silly toothless grin. 

   "Willow," said a voice from down the hall. 

   I flew down the hall and crashed into my brother, throwing my arms
around him and squeezing him tight.  He chuckled and hugged me back,
holding me in place as the sheet slowly fell to the ground, leaving me bare
and exposed.  He didn't seem to mind, and neither did I. 

   "Good morning, Ducky," he said, his voice warm and still a little thick
with sleep.  He hadn't been up for very long. 

   "Good morning," I said, looking up at him.  "You brought me home."

   "I did," he agreed.  "Everything of mine is yours."

   "You act like we're married."

   "We can pretend."

   Pretend.  I liked this game. 

   "Married couples make love," I pointed out. 

   Nick suddenly walked me back against the wall, and trapped me by putting
his hands on either side of my head on the wall, caging me in. 

   "You want me to fuck you raw?" he asked.  "Because let's be honest,
that's what you really want, isn't it?"

   Ugh, heat pooled immediately between my thighs.  His voice was doing
things to me, and those dirty, filthy words...

   "You want me to take you to bed, spread your legs and work my fat cock
into your tiny virgin cunt, don't you?"

   I nodded, unable to form words.  My knees were growing weak. 

   "If I could, I'd fuck you, Willow," he said, his eyes burning, "I'd
stretch out your tight little pussy and pound into it like an animal.  I
want you so bad that it hurts, baby.  I need you."

   I reached between us for the waistband of his dark joggers, rolling it
down and immediately his cock sprang free, thick, long and rock-hard.  I
closed my fingers around him, using his pre-cum to lubricate his dick, and
then I tugged, stroking up and down, squeezing him just the way I'd learned
he liked it.  It made him groan and wrap a hand around my jaw, forcing me
to look him in the eyes. 

   "You want your big brother's cock, don't you, princess?"

   I nodded. 

   "Let go of me so I can take it in my little princess mouth."

   That made him shudder, and almost instantaneously he let me go.  I got
down on my knees and took him into my mouth, tasting the saltiness, feeling
the vein with my tongue, running along the bottom, and then popping the
bulb tip inside of my mouth. 

   "Ugh, Lolo," Nick moaned, his hands slipping into my hair, forcing me
down deeper, making me gag.  He let go, but I recovered quickly and went
deeper and deeper, until I'd taken all of him into my mouth.  His balls
were against my chin, and I played with them with my hands, making Nick
stiffen and almost fall back.  I wrapped my arms around his legs and
steadied him. 

   "Come for your little princess," I said, returning to sucking him
enthusiastically right after.  His cock was thickening -"that's how I could
tell he was close. 

   "Willow," he gasped.  "I can't -""

   "Then don't," I said, licking the tip and sucking it.  "Come in your
little sister's mouth."

   That was all it took.  He came in thick ropes of cum, pulsing inside of
my mouth, sending spurt after spurt down my throat.  I swallowed every last
drop, wanting, needing his seed inside of me.  Maybe this couldn't give
me his baby, but we were playing pretend, weren't we?  I could pretend that
he'd just fucked my pussy raw and filled my womb with his semen.  I could
pretend that we were trying to make a baby, that we were married and living
in our own version of happily ever after. 

   Nick picked me up and walked us to his bedroom, carefully settling me
down on the bed.  Was there anyone else in the world who would know how to
make me feel like I was precious to them?  Was there anyone else who could
be this gentle with me?

   "I have an idea," Nick said, helping me take off my bra and panties.  It
was my turn. 

   "What idea?"

   Nick took off his own shirt and then picked off his pants and underwear.
We were both naked now. 

   "I was thinking we...  well, I'll show you."

   He laid me back in the bed, propping my head up with the pillows, "So
you can see," he said.  I was intrigued and extremely turned on.  Naked
Nick was the stuff of dreams.  Tall, muscular, a perfect V-shaped torso
that seemed to point downwards to his dick.  He was already hard again.  I
gasped when he settled between my legs, his stiff erection sliding up
against my sopping wet pussy. 

   "Nick," I said, surprised that he was giving in.  Yes, yes, yes!

   "I'm not going to put it in," he clarified.  "Just -"just some rubbing
on the outside, okay?"

   I nodded.  I'd take whatever he gave me. 

    -" -"

   Nick

    -" -"

   Reckless. 

   Insane. 

   Stupid. 

   I'd brought her home despite knowing I wouldn't be able to control
myself, despite knowing that it would get this far, despite knowing that I
lusted for her more than any man must have lusted for a woman.  Despite it
all, despite the danger, I'd brought her here, anyway.

   Because I couldn't stop.  I wanted her.  Like air, like water, like
sustenance, I wanted -"no, needed -"her.  She made me feel complete, made
me feel whole, like everything I was and everything I am was enough, more
than enough.  She made the sound of the flatline go silent, made me forget
the bad memories of Mom being sick, of Mom dying and leaving a broken
family behind. 

   It was Willow.  She made everything better. 

   And now I was just a hairsbreadth of willpower away from fucking her. 
She looked nervous but hopeful, her eyes wide and pleading.  She really
wanted this, wanted anything I was willing to give her.  I wished I could
give her more, wished I could take the heavens and lay them at her feet. 

   "I love you," I said, stroking her hair back from her face. 

   "Oh, Nick," she said, giving me a brilliant, heart-aching smile.  "I
love you, too.  So much."

   I kissed her as I lined up my cock with the slit of her wet folds.  She
gasped into my mouth as I slowly rocked my hips, sliding up and down,
coating my cock with her sticky slick juices.  I took it slow, pushing my
cock up until it rubbed against her clit, and then back down to tease her
entrance.  She squirmed under me, moaning and getting wet enough to leave a
spot on the bed.  I took her hands and pinned them down to either sides of
her head, holding her there as I went faster and faster, grinding my hips
into her clit whenever I got the chance. 

   "Please, Nick," Willow pleaded.  "Please fill me."

   I couldn't. 

   "I'm so empty inside.  My little princess pussy needs you."

   Oh, fuck. 

   "Just-Just the tip," she begged.  "I just want to know what it feels
like."

   Just the tip... 

   "No one has to know," she said, breaking through the last of my
barriers.  My entire body shook as I mentally prepared myself.  Could I do
this?

   This is crazy.  You can't.  You can't ruin her.  She's pure, innocent. 

   But she's also yours. 

   "Please," Willow said, looking up at me with sad eyes.  "Just for a
minute, please."

   And finally, I obliged.  Carefully, I lined up my cock with the entrance
to her tight little pussy and then slowly, very slowly, I slid the head of
my cock inside of her.  Both of us hissed, both from pain and pleasure. 
She was tight.

   "Just don't move, okay?" I said, pulling back and gently going back
inside, giving her a little bit of friction.  Willow panted and shook her
head. 

   "More," she said, grinding her hips down.  "Please, more."

   "Willow," I warned, my face contorted.  I couldn't -"god, what was the
point in holding back now?  I was already inside of her.  We'd crossed the
line.  We couldn't go back. 

   "This is going to hurt," I said, holding her still.  Her eyes widened as
she realized what I was about to do, and she stayed rigid, both fear and
desire painted in her eyes, her body tense, taking the pain like a champ,
clutching me tightly, her fingernails digging into my skin.  I kissed her
forehead, trying to smooth the frown, kissing every last line, then her
eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally her mouth.  She
locked on immediately, kissing me back fervently, as if she was being
kissed for the first time in eons.  We hungrily took from each other's
mouths until I felt that she'd adjusted to the pain. 

   That's when I made love to her.  Slow at first, letting the sickness
overtake me as I finally felt the sweet squeeze of her tight pussy, in and
out, in and out, repeating all the movements slowly, grinding my hips down
to hers.  I lifted her legs and threw them over my shoulders, making her
squeak in surprise.  That was when I began to quicken the pace, going into
her a little harder, our bodies slapping. 

   "Oh my god," Willow moaned, her fingernails breaking my skin.  "Faster.
Harder. Please." 

   This girl was my dream come true. 

   I did as she asked and fucked her. Hard and fast, making her cry out,
making her sob, making her lose her breath until finally, she moaned as it
began to feel good.  She was delirious after that, humping down on my fat
cock, taking me deeper and deeper, our bodies slapping together.  She
didn't just lay there, didn't just take it and ask for it slow -"she wanted
it the way I wanted it: passionate and hard. 

   "Come on your big brother's cock," I told her, pounding into her sweet
little cunt.  Her toes curled as she wrapped her legs tightly around me.  I
slammed inside of her over and over, making her moan, gasp.  Her pussy was
tightening, squeezing and squeezing me.  She was close.  Very close. 

   "You're a dirty little girl.  You love it, don't you?  You love my thick
cock in your little princess pussy," I whispered darkly into her ear. 
"Come on my cock, baby.  Come for me."

   As if on command, she did.  She let out a cry, her body quaking,
chanting my name as her pussy contracted around my cock.  I knew I should
pull out.  I absolutely knew it.  But then I had a thought of impregnating
my little sister -"and I instantly came, jetting my seed inside of my
sister, spurt after spurt, filling her womb up.  The idea of bringing
another Weaver into this loveless world filled me with a sense of urgency,
as if Willow and I had a duty to fulfill.  Of course, these are the
ramblings of a mad man. 

   Reckless. 

   Insane. 

   Stupid. 

   I couldn't get enough.

    -" -" -" -" -" -" -"

   Five Years Later

    -" -" -" -" -" -" -"

   "Daddy?"

   Nick looked up from his book and shut it, his wedding ring glinting in
the light from the lamp beside him.  He looked down at the four-year-old
that had crawled beside him on the couch. 

   "Yes, baby?" he said lovingly, brushing his daughter's dark hair back
from her forehead with his fingers.

   "Where's Mommy?" she asked, climbing onto her father's lap.  He wrapped
his arms around her, soothing her by rubbing her back.  She was a little
upset, but she always was when her mother wasn't home doting on her. 

   "Mommy's in class," Nick explained.  "She studies hard for you and your
brother."

   The four-year-old made a face.  She still hadn't gotten used to her
brother, the four-month-old baby with the same green eyes as her parents.
Her own eyes were brown, and she was jealous.  He also got all the
attention these days. 

   Nick enjoyed the quiet afternoon with his daughter, telling her stories
about his and Mommy's childhood, how they'd grown up together, automatic
best friends from the day she'd been born.  He and his wife had agreed that
the children would never know the true nature of their relationship, but
the love had been shared from the beginning, and that was a story worth
telling. 

   And yes, they were sick. They'd been sick five years now, sick in
existence, sick in love.  They'd moved far away from their desert town to a
place with seasons, a place with changing leaves and snow and rain, so much
rain.  Nick wore blue contacts, and his wife had dyed her hair blonde so
that they wouldn't look so alike, and together they made a new life
together.  They saw their father occasionally when he flew down to see his
grandchildren.  He'd come around after the birth of their first child,
giving them his blessing.

   At half-past seven in the evening, the front door was unlocked and
opened to reveal a young woman, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail that
she knew her husband would be gently tugging out of her hair soon.  He
liked her hair down, liked running his fingers through the thick locks,
liked kissing her with his hand wrapped around the back of her neck,
cradling her head. 

   She trailed through the house, stopping by the kids' room first,
checking on her two sleeping children.  She walked in, tucked their
blankets snugly around them and laid a kiss on each forehead.  Then she
went looking for her husband. 

   He was in their bedroom on their bed, his reading glasses on, skimming
through a book about parenting.  He looked up when he caught sight of his
wife standing by the doorway, her arms crossed as she observed him, smiling
wide.  Even after five years, she still hadn't quite gotten used to her
fairytale life. 

   "Ducky," he said, grinning.  "You're home."

   His wife began to unbutton her blouse, giving him a sly smile.  He
removed his glasses and put away his book before getting up and making his
way to her, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry.  When he reached her, he
gathered her into his arms and gave her a soul-consuming kiss, saying with
his lips I missed you, I love you, I want you, I need you. She kissed him
back, wrapping her arms around his neck, giggling when he picked her up and
took her to bed. 

   They made love with the rain pattering on the roof.  Their bodies fit
together as if they'd been made for each other -"and perhaps they had,
perhaps the universe had always meant for them to be together, perhaps that
was why their lines had immediately crossed. 

   And if this really was a sickness, then they didn't want to be cured.


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