30 comments/ 59275 views/ 37 favorites Collision Ch. 01 By: damppanties This story wouldn't have seen the light of day without the prodding of the charming LaRascasse. He challenged me to write it. I'd just like it on record that all of what follows is his fault. * * * * * collision — n 1. a violent impact of moving objects; crash 2. the conflict of opposed ideas, wishes, attitudes, etc.: a collision of interests 3. physics an event in which two or more bodies or particles come together with a resulting change of direction and, normally, energy ...And nothing can ever be the same. * * * * * Brett lined the nails of his index fingers on either end of the zit and squeezed inward, pressing into his cheekbone. At the same moment the pain got too much and he was about to give up, the little pale pit broke free of the skin and splatted against the mirror. Brett stared at it, changing his focus from the glop to the image of his face and back. He knew he had to squeeze out the pus some more until the blood came out so that it would be clean and not fester, but he couldn't be bothered. The whole situation disgusted him. Being eighteen and still having an oily face disgusted him. His whole life disgusted him. He felt like smashing his fist into the mirror, but he knew he wouldn't do it. His fucking impotence disgusted him. The apathy was a sham. Everyone thought he didn't feel. Didn't feel? Like water off a fuck-up's back? Sometimes all he could do to control the rage when required to sit in English Lit was to imagine ripping Mr. Egbert's head off at his neck and watching the blood spurt up into the air. In bursts, as his heart pumped its dying beats. And then he'd be sent to the principal's office and wouldn't mind it, for once. He lined the fingers up around the crater and squeezed again. The pale butter-colored fluid seeped out, followed by a pinpoint of blood. There. That was enough. He wiped the remains of the zit off his face and the mirror, holding his fingers under the water for a while. Then he splashed water on his face, looking one last time into the mirror at the ravaged site. The bruise wouldn't fade for a while. He smelled coffee as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. That meant his mother was in the kitchen, probably in the process of making his omelet and toast. He would go downstairs, sit in his chair, shovel some of the food she had laid on his plate into his mouth while hearing the same lecture he had heard for the last, oh thousand years, about how he didn't eat enough to keep up his strength and he would fall behind if he didn't build up energy, breakfast was the most important-meal-of-the-day, growing-boys-should-eat-to-keep-up-their-drive-and-be-athletic... and on and on and on. Brett finished dressing, went downstairs, sat at his place on the table and ate half the omelet and two pieces of buttered toast while the din that was his mother's voice danced around his head. He pushed back his chair and walked out mid-tirade, the haranguing receding with every step he took, but staying in his head in unformed sentences all the way to the door -- until he stepped out and was pleasantly surprised by the perfect summer day. A summer's day in late April, a blessing. The sun hit his bare arms and Brett turned his face up, closing his eyes, quietly worshiping the warmth. He walked like that until he stumbled at the end of the driveway. That was the exact moment he decided he wouldn't go to school that day. Why waste such a perfect day? His bike's front tire was still knocked out from the fall he took earlier this week, and of course he hadn't saved up enough to have a car, so going anywhere far was out of the question. He decided to head to the beach. That wasn't far. "Brett! Wait!" He stopped the lazy stride he had fallen into and stood still, letting his shoulders droop and waiting for the voice to catch up to him. "Hey, do you want a ride to school?" He turned to look back at Jody. She was just standing at the open door and shouting to him instead of coming up. "Um, no, that's fine," he half-mumbled. "What? I didn't hear you." He hadn't raised his voice enough. "Nah, I'm fine. Don't want a ride," he tried again and started back into his long-limbed gait. "Wait!" He heard pattering down the stairs and then Jody's voice was nearer. "Hey, could I, like, talk to you?" Brett wondered. Jody hadn't really talked to him about anything of consequence for years now. Since she had moved away to go to college. And not even before that really. They hadn't been that close to share confidences anyway. So to seek him out like this now... he wondered what it could be about. Was she in trouble of some kind? Wanting help but unable to talk to the parents? Wouldn't know until she told him. "Sure," he muttered, and waited. "Uh, well, we could talk in the car. I mean, wouldn't you be late for school?" He shrugged. Why was she so intent about the ride? Seriously. "All right, I'll get the car keys." She ran back light-footed into the house. Brett sighed. What was that? What was wrong with her? Why would she offer to give him a ride? And now he was supposed to endure a ride with his sister? And talk to her? And, dammit, was he supposed to go to school now? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking best laid plans of fucking mice. He was worse than fucking vermin. Caged, frustrated, running around on his fucking wheel. He felt every muscle in his body bunch up with the surge of frustration he was feeling and his body lifted itself up an inch or so from the habitual hunch, and then a second later, let go to settle back down. He let out an annoyed breath and started thinking about how to go with her and still avoid going to school. The car stopped beside him and Jody called out. "Come on!" He folded himself into the car, resigned. Jody barely waited until he arranged his legs in the confining space meant for tiny people before moving away. Why did she like this stupid yellow Beetle? He leisurely shut the door as the car picked up speed. "Hey, you want to get the seatbelt?" He rolled his eyes and reached for the buckle. He would have done it without instruction if she had waited till a second after he was done closing the door. What was the fucking matter with her? Why was she so nervous? "So, uh, well, how're you doing then?" Oh, so smooth, he thought. God, just drive the fucking car and get to the school. It takes twelve minutes. Shut up for twelve minutes, okay? "How am I doing about what?" he said out loud. "Just generally, you know? Life, school, everything. Friends. I don't know...." "Yeah, fine." Why did she ask if she didn't know? "So... how are your grades?" Oh, fuck. Was she serious? Was she going to start about that then? He turned around to face her, actually turned his upper body around and pulled up a knee to rest it on the seat. "How do you think they are, Jody?" She stopped to think. Regroup. Something. "Well. I...just... you know..." "What?" "Hey, don't get mad at me, okay? Mom's just worried about you and she asked me if I could, you know, talk to you or something. Because, maybe we're the same age I guess and she thought I could relate or something. I don't know...." Brett clenched his jaw and simply stared at her. "Listen, I just want to help, okay? That is, if you need help or something. I mean, this is your final year of school and, well, if you'd like help..." she trailed off as she realized she was repeating herself. "No." With that definitive syllable, he turned back in his seat. He didn't intend to say what he said next, but he felt goaded into it and it rushed out. "Actually, would you mind dropping me off at the beach?" "What? Why? Don't you have school?" His mouth curved up in amusement as he took in her confusion. To Jody, missing a day of school was just inconceivable. She was the angel of the family. He didn't answer her, just waited to see if she would take the turn to the beach instead of going on straight for the school at the next intersection. She hesitated as she approached the turn off, started to say something, and then stopped abruptly and took the turn. Brett turned away from her and raised an eyebrow. He hadn't believed she would do it. They didn't talk until they arrived and she turned into the parking lot. It was empty at this time of the morning. Jody pulled into a space somewhere in the middle and cut the ignition. She licked her lips. Brett saw her do it from in the periphery of his vision. He wondered whether to get out of the car and walk away or stay and try to wind her up again. The beach gambit had failed terribly. Maybe he would count up the seconds until he could make her swear at him? He waited. "Listen." She paused and closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "Brett. Look, I'm really not trying to lecture you here, okay? But Mom is concerned about your grades... and you." He didn't say anything. "It's your last year of school," she continued. "I just thought that you would, you know, pull yourself together and get a little motivated or something. I mean, it's not like you can't do it if you don't try, Brett. We both know you're smart." He let the silence build. Making her swear changed into seeing whether she deviated from 'The Lecture.' Suddenly, she burst out, "Oh, fuck! Why am I even doing this?" He would have jumped if his brain hadn't instantly stabilized his body in the split second after her outburst. And then he exulted. 'Fuck' and deviation at the same time! He would have grinned if he felt like displaying emotion in his sister's presence. His sister who was scrabbling at the keys now. "Get out," she said, biting at the words. "I don't care if you destroy your life. Unfeeling, selfish asshole! What's your problem? Why don't you..." "Hey! What's your problem? If you just stop being the prissy bitch for a minute and try to look without the self-righteous...," he stopped in mid-sentence and took a breath. It didn't matter. "Forget it," he muttered as he reached for the door. "No, what?" Jody grabbed at his sleeve and yanked him back, trying to make him face her. "What? I want to hear this." "No, Jody, you don't." His calm denial fazed her. "Brett...." She took a deep breath. "God, Brett, why are you doing this?" "Doing what?" he asked, his anger simmering. She shook her head, staring out the windshield. "This. Spoiling your life. Being like this. You know, just... all of this." She turned to him, intensity pouring out from her body, her voice. "I want to help you here. You're my brother..." "Jody, cut the bullshit, okay?" "What? Why don't you believe that I want to help?" He shrugged. "You just admitted you're doing this because Mom told you to." "Well, it's not like I don't care, you know. I wouldn't do it if I didn't." He curled his fingers into fists and flexed them while the silence built up around them. "Well, are you done?" he asked finally. She stared at him. "You're such an unfeeling asshole." It was the calm way she said it that unhinged him. He whirled around to face her. "Me?! I'm the unfeeling asshole? Fuck you, Jody. You don't even know what... you're just...." Rage poured off him in hot waves, making him incoherent. "I don't feel, huh? All of you seriously think that way? And you say you care?" His body was held in a tautness that bordered on pain. "If you people cared, you would try to understand this, instead of telling yourselves it's all part of growing up. If you cared, you would think of my feelings, my emotions and my problems instead of how convenient it is to ignore whatever's going on with me. If any of you cared, you would try to see what you were doing to me. If you cared, Jody, you would know what it was like growing up in the same house as you!" She reared back as if struck. "What? I don't understand...." "No. No, you don't! So stop trying to tell me you do." "Brett. I never... I mean... what did I do to you?" He turned to look out of the window. "Brett?" "It's not easy living with you, okay?" There. He had told her. "What do you mean?" "I mean what I said." His body slumped suddenly, all the tension flowing out of his muscles and leaving him weak. "Jody the genius has a brother who's stupid." "You're not stupid!" He looked at her in the eye. "But I never measured up, was never as good, never as smart and never enough." "You know that's not true..." she began. He shook his head, frustrated. Why was he expecting her to understand? "Listen. Never mind. You did what Mom asked you to do. Your job here's done." He reached for the handle on the door. She yanked on his shirt again. "No, wait!" He tried to shrug her off but she held on. "Dammit, Brett! Stop it, will you?" In their struggle, the shirt ripped and she was left holding on to nothing as he escaped. She turned around and scrabbled to open her own door. "What the fuck did you do that for?" Brett's face was turned around on his neck, trying to look over his shoulder at the tear on his shirt. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would tear like that. I'm sorry!" Jody went around the car just as Brett shrugged out of the ruined shirt. The rip was big enough to put a hand through. Brett held it up to his face and looked through it at Jody, a wry look on his face. "Look, I'm sorry," she said, sheepish. "I didn't mean to." He shrugged thin, t-shirted shoulders. "I know. It doesn't matter. It's not like this was my last shirt or anything." Balling up the shirt, he threw it into her car. "Throw it away, will you?" He started walking away from the parking lot to the little path among the brush leading to the beach. "Brett, wait! Where are you going?" He whirled around, a nasty look on his face. "Why? What's it to you?" "Don't you have school?" she persisted. "Oh, God. Look, Jody, leave me alone. I'm not you, okay?" "What does that mean?" "It means I don't have this inbuilt need to go to school. I can miss a day if I want to." That made her pause. "But... is this the first school day you're missing? You were down with the flu back when I was here last and I know you didn't go..." "What the fuck, Jody? How old am I? Do I need my elder sister's permission to miss school now? Will you write me a note then? Can I not even make up my mind about this? Am I that dumb?" His face was twisted with a mixture of frustration and defiance. "I didn't mean it that way..." "Yeah, you don't mean anything that way." "Brett, I care for you..." "Oh, just keep your lies to yourself." "What the heck? Why do you make it so hard to talk to you, Brett? Why does it have to be so much... work?" The last word was whispered, like it was coming out after she had already given up trying to do the work. How typical, he thought. Just like everyone else. "You don't have to work at trying to talk to me anymore. Just leave me alone, Jody. That's all I want. That's clear enough, isn't it? Please, just go." Brett turned and walked away. * * * * * A teardrop slipped out of his eye, snaking down the side of his nose, coming to hang for a beat just at the end and then dripping down on his pants into the dark patch already there from earlier tears. Brett sat with his legs drawn up, arms on his knees and his forehead on his hands, staring down at nothing in particular. He wasn't crying. He didn't cry. It was just his body coming down from the high emotions of the confrontation. He felt drained, like his skin could hardly hold all of him together. If he just relaxed his arms a bit, he would pool down to the ground, a shapeless mess of bones and mass and skin and air. Jody's face at the end there troubled him. She had looked sad and defeated. Like he had let her down. But more than that, like he had hurt her. But it hadn't been like that, had it? It was her own fault for coming too close. He had tried pushing everyone away, and most of all, her. God, he had tried. But he failed. Again and again and again. He always failed. He always fucked it up. He could never be what they wanted, never live up to their expectations, never give them happiness. He was a fuck up and they would be fucked up if too the longer he was in their lives. Most of all Jody. He needed to put distance between them. He knew he had hurt her just now. He should never have said that she was lying. Maybe Jody did care for him in some sort of way. She cared for everyone else, so why not him? He was her brother after all. She'd definitely miss him if he wasn't there. Wouldn't she? Maybe she wouldn't though. He chuckled to himself humorlessly. Maybe that was the solution. Maybe he should just kill himself and put everyone out of their misery. They shot rabid dogs, didn't they? He was just as infectious, spreading his wretchedness to every life he touched. Even Selena last year had left him. His first girlfriend, and she had ditched him within a few months of their starting to date. But then, good for her that she had detached herself from his worthlessness. In just half a year she had known him fully for the loser he was and gone looking elsewhere. How could he blame her? He should be happy she had been spared. His family though, they could hardly kick him out. He was theirs and they were his by a stroke of fate and they all had to live with it. Well, unless he killed himself. But no, he couldn't even do that. He knew he couldn't. He had tried. When the time for the final deed had come, he had been afraid to kill himself. Fear of death, fear of retribution, fear of what was on the other side. He was such a coward. A breathless sob escaped him as he bunched a fist and brought it down hard on his thigh, grinding his knuckles into the bone. How fucked up would someone need to be if they couldn't even kill themselves? He sighed. There was no point going on about this. Today's incident would soon be forgotten. It was a common enough thing -- 'Brett always acted out.' His family was used to it by now. Jody would get over it quickly enough so there was no use torturing himself for what he had done. But her face still haunted him. He hated himself for making her feel that way. He always wanted to think of her smiling. Jody. Shining, with that faint halo around her head. His angel. Everyone's angel. Everyone that came into contact with her saw her genuineness of spirit. Family, friends, teachers, neighbors, everyone loved her. He loved her more than anyone else. And he would never tell her that. Everything about her was beautiful -- her dark blue eyes, the round face framed by dark hair, her soft pink skin paling to a creamy white down her chest and stomach, but budding to a ruddy rose again below the dark patch.... Brett shook his head savagely to stop that train of thought from going any further. He had promised himself he would try not to go down that road. This was shameful, this kind of obsession. He knew that she meant the world to him and he worshiped her every quality, but to think about his sister that way? His hatred with himself took him over as he realized just why he couldn't let her come too close. But he couldn't stop himself from looking. One last time then. He pulled out his phone and accessed his secret folder. Her pictures started to flood his screen one by one as he slid his thumb over the screen, over her face, her body, her breasts, her.... Heat flooded his face and pooled in the lower part of his abdomen. His cock came to life and twitched. He settled his left hand absentmindedly on it and started stroking himself through his clothes. One by one, as each picture slid by, it showed his angel in pose after delicious pose. Spread on the bed wearing just panties. Looking into the camera with a naughty look on her face, the tops of her breasts just visible in the frame. Lying on the bed on her stomach, her naked bottom in the air. Sitting up, both hands holding her breasts, offering them to the camera. He flipped through, each one better than the next, finally coming to the last one of her moist pink privates spread open. That was how he thought of them, her privates, because anything else would be... shameful. Collision Ch. 02 Newton's Third Law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This means that any force exerted onto an object has a counterpart force that is exerted in the opposite direction back onto the first object. * * * * * What does one do after raping one's sister? Brett didn't know what he did the rest of that day. He must have walked, must have sat somewhere, must have stared at nothing, and must have cried. He didn't quite know. All he knew was that he couldn't go home. It was well past midnight when he returned home. He had shut his cell phone off after an attempted call from Jody, only sending a text home to his mother that he would be home late and not to wait up for him. He couldn't face anyone. If he had to show his face to Jody, talk to her ever in his life, he needed time. He needed to build up his defenses. But... how? How could he really even begin to get over the horror, the anguish, and the deep hatred he felt for his own worthless selfishness and get over this? How? And what of her? Of what he had done to her? In an effort to comfort her, he had wounded her so deeply that nothing could ever compare to the pure heartlessness of it. He had shattered her. Nothing could ever make her whole again. Love? He thought he loved her? He wanted to take his heart out and grind it beneath his heel, to dig his nails in deep and tear it apart, snuffing his life with it. She was right in not believing him. He was not capable of love. He was broken, and he had just broken the only thing in his life that was perfect. But in his haze of self-derision, one thing was clear. He had to know if she was okay. Hell, she couldn't be, not ever. But okay enough to... go on. He needed to know that. It was that thought that brought him back, creeping in the dark of the night, trying to hide from everyone. From himself. He crept into the dark house, up the stairs, through the hallway to her room and silently turned the doorknob. Inch by inch, he pushed the door open. There was no noise from inside. That was good. At least she wasn't crying. He peered into the darkness and tried to figure out if she was in bed. "Get in there," said a voice behind him. Brett crashed into the door, scared out of his wits by the unexpectedness, making what felt like a god-awful noise in the quiet house. He whirled around and saw his sister standing there behind him. "Go on. We need to talk. And keep it down, will you?" she directed. There was steel in her voice. He licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. "Jody? No, I just wanted to see...." "Brett, go in. You owe it to me." He did. She walked in behind him and closed the door to her bedroom; went and sat down on her bed. Brett turned away. He didn't know what to say, how to deal with this. All he knew was that this was dangerous. He could not let her get too close to him. He was never good for anyone. Look what he had done to her already. He could kill her. He would just listen to her tell him that. He would listen to her fling furious words at him about what he had done, how disgusting and selfish he was. And then he would leave. He owed her that. It was a while before she spoke. "You think you're the only one who has demons to fight, Brett?" she said, her voice a faint whisper in the dark. "What do you mean?" It was wrenched out of him by the unexpected sentence, the softness of her voice. "Why did you run away?" What could he say? "Brett, why did you run away? Talk to me." Her voice was soft, pleading. He couldn't. He couldn't let himself do anything else to her and whatever came out of his mouth would be fucked up anyway. His words were fucked up. His actions were fucked up. He was fucked up. What could he say? How could he explain? And so he said nothing. "Well, I guess you can listen then. I'm sorry you felt that it was anticlimactic or something. I mean, it must have grossed you out. But we're adults, Brett. We can deal with... what has happened. You just can't run away from things. We're still part of the same family and we need to deal with issues. And we can be mature about stuff. It's not something that needs to affect you. We can just put it behind us, right? And, well, I just wanted to add... I don't know if you've been with other girls or not... but it's not always that way. I don't want you to feel like every time it's going to be... disgusting like that..." What in the name of God was she going on about? Brett tried to figure out if he was missing something. "...was a letdown maybe, but other girls are better than I am. Much more beautiful. Well, and it's not even about looks all the time, is it? I guess part of it is that we're brother and sister... and that's probably why you don't think I'm attractive... it's perfectly normal." What? Did she think...? His befuddled brain was beginning to get her drift. "...it's okay if you felt you loved me and that's all that matters. I love you still. And you don't have to feel bad if you didn't like it. You don't have to run..." "I liked it." The words dropped into the room, putting an end to her rambling, bring a sense of quiet with them. "Loved it. Love you. So stop thinking all this rubbish." Silence enveloped them again. "You... did? So why did you run?" she said finally. "Because I forced you and I couldn't face even myself, let alone you, after..." "God, Brett. Is that what you've been thinking? That you forced me?" "You don't have to pretend for my sake, Jody. We both know what happened." "What? What happened?" "You want to hear me say it? Fine. I will. I raped my sister. There. I said it." "God. Brett." She was silent for few seconds. "Brett," she started up again, her voice whisper soft. "You didn't. I was, well, involved. I mean I also was... you know what I mean... I was also into it and...." "You don't have to save me from myself, Jody. I know what I did." His shoulders drooped and he wiped a weary hand over his face. "I know what I did." "Brett, I wanted you to!" "Don't lay the blame on yourself, Jo. You don't need to do this. Please. I know what I am, and what I'm capable of doing. Don't take it up on yourself." He felt the mattress sigh as she stood up and walked over to him. She slipped her hand in the one that was hanging by his side. And then she led him to the bed and turned around to face him. "Then let's do it again and see whether it's me giving myself to you or you raping me," she said, her eyes trained on his downturned face. Slowly he raised his gaze up to hers, and what he saw there nearly did him in. There was such tenderness there that his eyes filled up and he felt like he could almost start bawling right then and there. But she bent in and kissed him... and all thoughts of crying flew out of his head. There were just her soft lips on his. That was all that he could feel; that was all that mattered to him. "Make love to me, Brett," she said against his lips, then turned and climbed up into her bed. Brett stood there for a moment, uncertain. Then she raised her arms up to him and whispered, "Please." How could he not? God help him, how could he not after such a request? He climbed in beside her and took her in her arms. This time, it was pure love. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her chin, stroking her arms and stomach and body, taking his time over her. He worshiped her like she needed to be worshiped. His angel. Neither of them said anything; there was no need. Jody's submission proved her assertion to him and Brett, his devotion. He kissed and touched gently, until she impatiently deepened their kisses and guided his hands to her breasts, pushing her body into him. "Love me," she said. And he did. With his mouth, with his hands, with his words and his heart. There was no place for any misunderstanding this time. Everything was as clear as her eyes looking into his, her voice whispering his name, her hands stroking his back. She guided him, gently but firmly, telling him what she needed, showing him how she needed him. She was the one who started slipping his clothes off, then when he moved away to take care of his jeans, pulled hers off. He saw her nakedness in the dark, her white form fragile, shadowed. He touched her hesitantly, a finger trailing down the side of her neck, a hand coming to settle on her stomach. She held still, trusting him with her body while he touched her. His hands moved over her body, familiarizing himself with her by touch -- the slope of her neck, the curve of a breast, the dip of her navel, the scraggly hair on her mound. He hesitated there, unwilling to cross that barrier, but she shifted her legs and rose into his palm, giving him permission wordlessly. He bent himself over her then, taking one soft nipple into his mouth and suckled until her hands clenched on handfuls of his hair and her hips rose into his hands as she uttered stifled moans of pleasure. He left a warm trail of open-mouthed kisses down her body, stopping again at the tops of her thighs. He licked the crease where her leg joined her body again and again, his hands caressing her until she said, "Love me," in that tremulous voice again, and he dipped in between her legs and tasted her center. There was nothing that could compare to the ecstasy of that moment. His tongue laved over his sister's pussy, her warm spicy smell intoxicating him. Again and again he flicked his tongue against her. His fingers joined his exploration of her and he parted her warm, wet folds, finding her entrance and pressing in. He didn't really know what he was doing, if any of this was pleasuring her or not, but he kept at it because she didn't tell him to stop, and then in a while she was moaning and moving against him as he worked his fingers in and out of her. Brett latched his mouth onto her the little nub poking out at the apex of her thighs and she let out a little cry at that. All too soon he felt her tense, little by little, until she was as taut as a drawn bow, and he felt the trembling start somewhere deep in her and spread in waves as she jerked like a marionette at the end of a string. Her pussy clenched around his fingers in her, and he stopped moving, just experiencing the intensity of her release and awed by it until she lay limp and spent. "Are you okay?" he asked timidly. "Come here," she said. He crawled up to her and she just reached down, taking his hardness in her hand and guiding him to her. Brett focused on his sister's hand around his cock. Soft. Gentle. He moved his hips into position and her hand between them steered him to her center. With the tip of his cock at her entrance, he looked deep into her eyes. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, but he could still just see the faint white in her eyes and the darker pupils. "I love you," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. He was eager and awkward in the feelings overwhelming him, sliding his hands under her and trying to lift her hips to him. They shifted until they were aligned and then his passion rose and he charged wildly, embedding his length in her in one hard thrust. "Slow," she murmured. "I'm still... go slow." Brett slowed down, his strokes starting long and languorous, and that was a slow fire in itself, heating up his passion and making him acutely aware of every inch of him sliding into her softness. He took her mouth in his, sliding his tongue inside the same way his cock delved into her honeyed warmth. He moved over her as if in a dream, his strokes measured and gentle, the heat of her enveloping him every time he buried himself in her. He felt his blood rising and tried to control himself, tried to untangle himself from her arms but she held on to him, urging him on with her body. "I'm... wait... I need to...," he muttered breathlessly. "Just let go," he replied. And he did. He lost himself in her, his body milking each moment's thousand pleasures, his brain fuzzy with the warm measured desire of it all. He sensed each moment within her, knew each instant minutely as his desire climbed, and felt the exact second he tipped over into dreamy hot and cold shuddering ecstasy that drained his seed out of him deep within her. He came to rest on top of her warm body, his heart thundering in his ears, his blood flowing through swollen veins. His blood -- the same as hers within whom he was buried deep. They were of one blood and one flesh. And now, one body. As close as two people could ever be. Their hearts beat in rhythm, breaths coming in shallow gasps as they savored the afterglow. He could smell his own sweat mingled with hers, the warm musk of their desire covering them. Closing his eyes, he lay with his head upon her breast, peaceful, once again cradled in those arms and he wished that she would never let go. * * * * * They didn't talk for a long time, but slowly as his thoughts caught up to the situation, he had to know. "Why did you do it, Jo?" he asked her. "Do what?" "Make... love to me. Because you feel sorry for me?" She took her time answering so that he would know what she was telling was the truth. "When you were born," she started in a low voice, "well, I was only two, so I don't quite remember, but you know how mom says I was in love? I would barely take my eyes off you. I would trail after her when she walked around with you in her arms after feeding you. Climb up on anything I could to see what she was doing to you when you were on the changing table." Jody chuckled at that. "I never left your side she says. Maybe it started then -- loving you." Her fingers started ruffling through his hair. "Then I grew up and went to pre-school, then school, the big girl. I got into a new world, leaving you behind here at home. Maybe it died a little then, but something like that cannot die I think. Maybe it was just buried a bit." She paused, trying to get her thoughts together. "I don't know when it started, or when I became aware of it really, mom and dad's obsession with excellence I mean. Maybe I didn't really become aware of it. Maybe I just absorbed it through my skin until it became a part of me. And I started performing for them." Her fingers in his hair stilled. "We all have our crosses to bear, Brett. Yours was giving up. Mine was to carry the weight of their expectations. Do you think that hurt any less? To always be the one who is expected to be brilliant, to bring home the first prize, to dedicate your life to what your parents see you as? You remember when I was in second grade? But you wouldn't, you were just a baby. Lenore had come first in class that year and I was a close second. I still remember how Dad had looked at my year-end report. Like I had disappointed him. He hadn't said anything about it though, just smiled and said 'Good work' but not before I saw the unspoken dissatisfaction. I thought... I thought if I couldn't be what they wanted me to be, they wouldn't love me, you know?" He remained quiet, not knowing what to say to this. He never knew. "And when I was in sixth grade, the tennis competition? You remember that, don't you? I had cried for the whole day after that, and Mom had been fed up with me and shouted at me. 'Why didn't you win the damn thing then if it was that important to you?'" she mimicked in a perfect impression of their mother's voice. "That's what she had said. It's branded into my brain. Did she think I hadn't tried to win? I felt her love for me die a little that day. I think it was then that the resolve to be the best at everything solidified in me. Before that, it was just... kind of... I hadn't really thought about it I suppose. But after that day, I needed to be the best. I wanted them to love me, you know? I wanted to be worthy." Brett's eyes had started prickling and something heavy lodged in the middle of his throat. "But that was naïve, wasn't it? By the time I realized that my accomplishments were only adding fuel to their aspirations, not to their love for me... after all, what is love when it isn't given freely to your own child but tied to what she can do? By the time I realized that, I think I already was this person who was good at stuff. It wasn't to make them proud of me anymore, to make them love me... because I think I had realized that it couldn't happen that way. But it was just what I had become by then. I had grown into the girl they wanted me to be." Jody laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "At one point, I thought I was helping you, you know? By being the one who satisfied their desires, so you wouldn't have to. So you could be whatever you wanted. So you wouldn't end up like me, constrained to a frame made for you by someone else, destined to grow into what they want you to be. That was right before I graduated from high school. I remember thinking that my result was such a big deal that yours would escape notice. Or at least not be as important. You had started rebelling by then, and I hoped if I could make them happy, that would be enough for them. But, I didn't help you, did I? She was quiet for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Brett. I'm sorry I failed you." He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it wouldn't budge. He didn't trust his voice right then so he didn't speak. He longed to tell her that it wasn't her fault. She was the best, just because of who she was, not because she was forced into it. Yes, the expectations were what they both dealt with, but she was so much more than the result of those. She was so much more than all the year-end results and all the firsts in all the competitions anyone could ever achieve. Her soul, her goodness and her light was something that was hers, not something that was given to her through the cross she had to bear. But he didn't say that. He just kept on breathing, trying to hold himself together. "I'm sorry," she said again and brushed her lips across his forehead. "Jo...." It came out strangled. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You don't have to say that. You were the only thing... if it wasn't for you... God." His thoughts rushed over themselves, anxious in his desire to assure her of her worth. "Jo, you were... are the best thing in my life. I know I said some pretty stupid things this morning but I didn't know then. I mean, I knew that it wasn't your fault, but I didn't know you felt this way... about all this." He needed to say something more. To make her believe. "You don't have to apologize, Jo. And you're not what they made you. You're... you. Your kindness and your energy wasn't given to you by mom and dad. They might just be the whetstone on which your mind was sharpened, but you couldn't have done it only with their wanting it. It had to come from you, don't you see that?" There was a bit of silence. "Maybe," she said finally. He knew not to push her. She would come to her realization soon. He had planted the seed, and he would nurture it with love. In time, she would come to realize how special she was if it the only thing he did in his life. "I guess it was my fault then... looking for love in exchange for what I did." Her voice was soft. "No..." "Hush. I did think that. But I realized that's not how it works. I realized love cannot really be exchanged for anything. But... that doesn't mean you stop looking for it. I didn't." She took a deep breath and her voice got softer. "So, to answer your 'why'... well, you said you loved me," she said simply. "Yes," he replied. "I do. But I'm such a disaster. Look at me... I ruin everything I touch. How can you want this? I'm a selfish, immature, broken person, Jo." "None of us are whole, Brett. At least not in this family. No one is perfect. We all have different things that are our failings. I have mine, God knows I do. But, well, what I'm trying to say here is that you have a heart I can love."