Ship: Max & Isabel
Disclaimer: Copyright infringement is the highest form of flattery.
I don't know why I did it. I just couldn't stand to hear Isabel cry anymore.
I was lying in bed staring at the pattern of light cast up on the ceiling by the street light outside our house. There was a starkness about it that matched my interior life. It was what I had become inside since our mom died. It was like there was a big hole in me, as if this time someone had shot me in the chest, only no one was there to save me.
I couldn't sleep, I wasn't exhausted enough. I only slept about every third night, when my body just got so exhausted that I collapsed and sort of blacked out. On the nights I didn't sleep, I lay in bed thinking about everything that could have been different, everything I could have done that would have kept my mom from getting in the car that last time.
I could have gotten home sooner and not delayed dinner.
I could have remembered to get the fucking almond extract at the store like she'd asked me to so she could make the cookies that night for the bake sale.
I could have volunteered to go back to the store after dinner to get it so that it would have been me who got hit by the drunk driver, instead of mom.
I could have been at that intersection at that exact moment, instead of her.
Maybe the drunk wouldn't have killed me.
Maybe that wouldn't have mattered.
So. That's what I did on the sleepless nights. Imagined the drunk hitting me. And listened to Isabel cry.
Our dad couldn't stay home forever. He really had no choice. He couldn't make money if he didn't go out on the road, and we needed the money. The funeral had used up most of his savings. He had children to support. And he had to get away from all the memories. But me and Is, we had to stay.
We were certainly old enough to be left alone overnight. But the house just felt so empty when he was away on business. We moved around in it, got ourselves to school, came home, made something to eat, sat at the table across from each other picking at our food, unable to look each other in the eye, Then we went to our rooms for the rest of the evening and kept apart. Isolated. We were shells, that was all. Nothing inside.
I wondered a lot if she blamed me for mom's death.
On the nights when dad was gone, those were the bad times for Isabel. Like the other night. She just couldn't stop sobbing. Not very loud sobs, but relentless, into her pillow. I guess it was just my selfishness that led me into her bedroom. I wanted to comfort her on some level, but I really just wanted her to stop crying. It got on my nerves. It even made me kind of angry.
Because I hadn't cried at all since mom died.
It surprised me a lot. I just never thought he would ever do something like that, come into my room at night and climb into bed with me. It shocked me enough that I held my breath, waiting to see what he was going to do next. But I didn't kick him out.
He scooted up close behind me and draped his arm over my side. I waited to see where his fingers would go, but they just dangled at the end of his hand, not touching anything. His feet were cold, like ice. He must have been lying on top of his bed a long time before he came into my room. He did that, just lay on his bed without any covers, thinking. Not sleeping.
I just couldn't believe she was gone. She was my mother, the only other female in the house, the only woman in my life who understood me well, at least the human side of me. I knew all the things she looked forward to -- my prom, my wedding, my children. Now she'd never see any of those things -- IF they were ever going to happen. If my alien destiny didn't kill me first, or lead me somewhere no human could have anticipated.
And that's why I felt so awful. All the things I would have told her --eventually. Now, they'd never be said. I never got a chance to show her who I really was, to take that risk and feel her acceptance, the acceptance I always knew she would offer Max and me if we'd given her the opportunity. I wanted to prove to Max and Michael that they were wrong, prove to them that she could become our strongest ally, if we'd give her half the chance. Now she'd never know the truth about me, and I'd never have the satisfaction of proving I was right about her.
I lay awake and waited to see what Max would do next. I stayed very still, lying on my side, not crying, hardly breathing. Just listening. And pretty soon I heard the deep, steady breathing of my sleeping brother next to me.
When I woke up I was alone in the bed. Nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced next. I was warm, every part of me. I was stretched out on my stomach, holding onto "my" pillow, really one of hers. The sun came into her eastern facing windows and made the whole room glow with a soft yellow light. I stretched and felt the hard length of me knock against my leg, not an uncommon occurrence when I first wake up. But being here in her bed, smelling her fragrance on the pillow next to me it was familiar, as much as my own heartbeat. It felt like home. I wanted to wrap myself up in it and come in it.
I knew then what was going to happen between us. I just didn't want to admit it yet.
She was in the shower, and I thought about her. I thought about her for the first time in a way I'd never allowed myself to before. I rolled over on my back and supported my head with one arm behind my neck. Then I adjusted myself, casually at first. I thought about Is in the shower. Wondered what her body looked like now. I hadn't seen her naked since we were about eight.
The water pounded in my eardrums, and some of the steam drifted out into the bedroom from the adjoining private bath of my beautiful sister. My mom was the one who insisted Isabel have a private bathroom. It always seemed like the forbidden city to me. Sometimes I imagined stealing into it, like a theif climbing over the wall and invading the harem, just to see what she had in there.
I adjusted myself more vigorously.
I heard her humming. I pictured her with her eyes closed, letting the hot, steamy water drip down her face, down her neck, over her breasts, dripping off the dark pink nipples I imagined her having. I wanted to lap at the shower water like a child suckling a mother's ample tit. I saw myself doing it. I saw myself in the shower with her, bending my head to suck her beautifully curved breast, tugging on her hard rubbery nipple, holding her hips with both my hands, both of us under the rain of warm water.
My hand drifted under my sweats. I was large, throbbing. I felt the veins stand up, hard and pulsing. My tip was slick, and I used it to slide up and down more easily with my hand. I forgot myself and let out a little moan.
Then the shower stopped. The shower door slid along its metal track and I heard towel sounds. And oh my god, I was about to jack off in my sister's bed. Get up! Get out of there! It was almost painful to move, to make walking motions to get back into my room, but I did it, in a hurry, before she came out and saw me like that. The feel of my fleecy sweats was almost unbearable, and I just barely made it back to my room and shut the door before I gave a couple quick jerks and spurted out a ton of cum that drenched my hand and dripped down my leg, soaking my sweats. I would definitely have to do my own laudry when I got home from school.
We didn't talk at school. It was just like my brother to become the stoic and avoid me. Anything uncomfortable, he ignored. If it needed attention or discussion, he clammed up and let his inaction come across like wisdom and prudence. People thought he was a careful strategist. I knew he was just scared most of the time. It had frustrated me many times when I thought we needed to act. It was just dumb luck a lot of the time that not doing anything turned out to be the best move.
But as the day went on, I got to thinking maybe Max was right this time. Whatever happened the night before, maybe it was just as well we never mentioned it again. It was embarassing, sleeping with my practically full grown brother, as if we were little kids again on a stormy night. Me comforting him as if I were the mother of a lost little boy.
Yeah. It was best not to talk or think about it. Not to bring visions back into my mind's eye of his sleeping form, his perfect mouth, his lips just parted, his beautiful dark brown hair curling around his head as he moved restlessly in his sleep. Probably best not to think about his well-formed chest that rose and fell with his deep breathing, and his rippling stomach, the way it felt so smooth beneath my hand. The way the top of his curly black hair just crept out from the loose waistband of his sweats and tickled my fingertips. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was best to put it out of my mind.
Besides, dad would be coming home tonight. He wouldn't have to make another trip for a while. It would be good to have a sentry in the house. I needed him. He was my connection to mom right now. And right now I felt really confused.
I was in the laundry room after school putting my clothes in the washer when I heard Isabel on the phone. She was talking to dad. From listening to Isabel's side of the conversation, it sounded like he wouldn't be home for several more days. He was adding a few more stops to his trip so he'd be able to stay home with us for a good long time once he got back.
Is put the phone on the hook and stared at the floor. Then she turned around and was startled for some reason, maybe because I was staring at her. She just walked away, into the living room, and I figured from her silence that I was on my own for dinner. I gave her some space by hanging out in the kitchen, watching Oprah on the portable TV and fussing in the laundry room with my wash. I put a frozen dinner in the microwave and after seven minutes ate it, watching the 5:00 news. I even did a load of sheets and towels after transferring my stuff to the dryer. But by the time I'd washed the few dishes in the sink and actually folded my socks and underwear, I was ready to bust out of there. So I took a chance and walked out, carrying a full laundry basket.
That's when I saw her, sitting in the dark living room watching flickering images on the television screen. They were images of us, Isabel and me, the home videos of us when we were kids.
Mom always watched these videos when dad was away. I never understood why. It always seemed like an exercise in spiraling depression. She already felt bad that he was gone, then she tugged at her emotions even more by nostalgizing over us. It was emotional overload to me. But, she loved it. It was somehow an affirmation to her of how happy our family was, how much we had met her dreams and expectations of family. Hmmm. Too much Oprah.
I knew Isabel was doing it because mom did it, and she wanted to connect with mom that way. But watching her now -- something in me snapped. Mom was gone, and Isabel could not be mom no matter how much she tried. And now I realized how much our mother had been the glue that held us together. Without her, what were we? Aliens without a human side? I just went into my room and slammed the door. Hard. The pictures on the wall in the hallway shook.
And then I kind of lost it.
I guess it was just a blind rage. Given who and what I am, it's not such a good idea to unleash whatever it was. I didn't even have to pick things up and throw them. I just reached out my hand and things threw themselves. I did do one particularly human thing, though. I took my baseball bat to everything that hadn't already been slammed up against the wall by my "powers." And yes, I did destroy my computer, my printer, my scanner, and smashed the phone. The baseball bat became a metaphor, and my bedroom was a great big English paper that had to be written that night.
Isabel was screaming.
I was screaming at him, banging on his bedroom door. He had it locked, and what was going on behind it was incredible.
I could have easily unlocked the door, but I was scared. I'd never heard him do anything like that. Glass breaking. Wood cracking and snapping. And he was raging. He sounded like a wounded animal, but louder and more anguished than any 100% human could have been. I knew he was destroying everything of value in his room, and I understood why. What value did anything have now that the most valued person in our lives was gone? I understood, but I was frightened by it too. He let out another blood-curdling howl and I backed away from the door. I retreated to my bedroom and locked myself in.
After awile he was knocking on my bedroom door and begging me to let him in. Is. Please, Isabel. I was frozen in place not knowing what to do. It got very quiet. I don't know how long we just waited there. Then I heard him again.
Muffled, but he was crying.
I reached out my hand and the door opened. There was my brother, on his knees, leaning against the door jamb, sobbing. He hadn't cried at all before that moment. I walked to him, stood in front of him. Max pulled me to him, holding me by the hips, leaning his face against my skirt while he sobbed. His breath was warm and penetrated the fabric of my clothing right to my skin. I stroked his head.
She stroked my head, but I could tell she was still scared of me. Why not. I had acted like the Texas chainsaw murderer just a few minutes before. I pulled myself away from her and wiped my nose on the back of my hand, rising to my feet. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I kept repeating it. I started to back away, feeling drained and ashamed. Ashamed of having cried in front of her.
She stopped me. My room was trashed. Don't worry about it tonight. She reached out and grabbed my snotty wrist and pulled me into her room, backing up to her bed. We sat down on the edge and I leaned my head on her shoulder. Then we both climbed into the bed, Isabel's narrow bed for one person, and pulled each other close while I rested my head against her and listened to her heart. This was where I had started the day, in Isabel's bed. It was becoming natural to think of lying beside her and waking up next to her everyday.
Growing up with Isabel, sometimes I was the big brother and sometimes she was the big sister. Our parents had always treated us like twins, same birthday, same age. But we never were twins, really. We sometimes found it hard to feel like brother and sister, although we'd learned early on to give the concept appropriate lip service. Even when our alien mother told us we were brother and sister, it didn't register in me, and I'm pretty sure not in Isabel, with the same kind of meaning that it should have if we were human siblings. No matter what, all our lives, we'd always felt a conflict between our alien selves and our human culture.
I just held on to her and waited until I felt her let go inside.
You will probably never understand how we let this happen, how we thought it would be all right. We just left ourselves, left our grief, left our human lives, left our so-called destiny. And pretty soon, there was just Max and me. And we wanted no one else.
It was after midnight and I think we'd been sleeping and dreaming off and on in my bed, under the covers. We both still had our school clothes on. When I reached down and started to unbutton his shirt he gasped involuntarily. He turned his head and looked at me with those beautiful, melting brown eyes. I reached in under his shirt and ran my palm smoothly over his chest, letting it brush clumsily against his hardened nipple, as if I didn't know it would be there. That made him fidget and he turned his chest towards me, like a woman pointing her tits at a man. You slut. That inflamed him. He lifted himself up and let me push his shirt back off his shoulders and down his arms while he leaned in and kissed me full and hard on the mouth. That inflamed me. He pushed his tongue into my mouth hungrily exploring me. Max's mouth. Max's tongue. It was like I had never been kissed before. It was the kiss I had wanted all my life. His kiss.
His shirt was off and I broke free of his mouth for a moment. I wanted more. He bit my chin as I lifted my neck to him and he let his lips continue to drift down my throat and my head fell back as he went to my collar bone and sucked hard. He had only to touch the buttons of my shirt and they popped off one by one revealing my breasts aching to pull free from my bra. He touched the clasp in front and it gave without effort. The two halves of my bra fell apart and my breasts dropped into his hands. Mouth to mouth, we kissed, sucked, licked, bit with our hands we touched, pinched, rubbed, cupped. I didn't know a boy could be so aroused by my touching his pecs and pinching his tiny hard nipples, but he moaned and threw his head back when I touched him there. That only made me more aggressive, and I lifted myself up so that my breast fell into his mouth.
He greedily took it like a hungry child. He clasped it with both hands and sucked hard, then pulled on my nipple, sore from arousal. I lifted my tit with my fingers, like a mother does for a child, helping more of it get into Max's hot mouth, letting my fingers get sucked into his mouth and feeling the play of his tongue on my fingers and nipple. Then I fed him my other breast and he washed me with his tongue there, taking my hard nipple between his teeth and tugging. I ran my fingers through his hair and pushed him onto my breast, hearing the loud smacking sounds he made. Then I pulled him back by his hair and lowered my mouth to his for another hot wet kiss.
I was so hard, so fast. The moment she started touching me I felt the blood rush and my penis push against my fly. Isabel is more experienced than I am, but it didn't seem to make any difference. Because as soon as I started with her, it was as if I was meant to be with her, and I knew how to give her every pleasure she wanted.
I let her tug me around by my hair. It felt good. I let her think she was calling the shots. But I knew it was only a matter of time. Then I would come for her.
I had pulled her blouse and bra off and she was naked from the waist up. She had that little preppy skirt on, which so completely turned me on. She let me suck on her round, upturned breasts and she kissed me hard, but now I was ready to go deeper with her.
I pulled away, backed down the bed, and knelt between her legs. My hands slowly smoothed up her thighs, up under that fucking catholic school girl skirt that was driving me crazy. She moaned and arched her back, lifting her pelvis to me. I knew what she wanted. I leaned forward and kissed her thigh, moved my lips higher until I reached her musky wet panties. I put my mouth on her and breathed a long hot breath right through the silk. A groan left her mouth and I felt her shiver. My hands slid under and cupped her bottom. I squeezed her, then dug my fingernails into the tender flesh.
She let her knees fall open and so much more was there for me to taste. I dragged my tongue along the lace edge of her panties, then lifted it and played with her hardening clit. I took the little silky piece of underwear in my teeth and tugged like a dog. I think I even made a noise like a dog. I felt like a dog, I just wanted to get nasty and hump her so bad. And I was getting so hard. But I let that wait. I pulled her panties down about half way, teasing her with kisses on her hot flesh. Then I pulled them all the way down and she helped to inch out of them while I concentrated on lapping at her dark, swollen lips.
I'd never done this before, but I took a chance and plunged as much of my tongue into her pussy as I could and started a steady thrusting. She held my head and moaned with pleasure as I explored and tasted every bit of her tight, swollen flesh. The smell and taste of her was like a musky honey that I couldn't get enough of. I had started out wanting to give her pleasure, but I ended up becoming so aroused by the taste of her that I plunged in deeper, lapped and licked and pushed my tongue up into her to get all I could of her. I put two fingers in and stroked gently, rhythmically while I still had my lips to her and now darted my tongue in and out. I could tell she was right on the edge, so I decided to slow the pace a little. I sat up and put my two wet fingers in my mouth for her, slowly savoring the taste of her. I was surprised when she sat up to kiss me and lap at my lips, hungry for the taste I had on my mouth.
I was rock hard now. I wriggled out of my jeans and tossed them on the floor. While we kissed she brought her hand down to me and began to stroke me. I took her hand and guided her up and down, around the head, just exactly how and where I'd get the most arousal. I kept myself from coming by sheer will. I kind of felt bad that I hadn't made her come when I was going down on her, but it turned out to be okay for her and me both. Isabel likes to come with someone inside her. I was so grateful to finally get in. My sister, my lover, was unbelievably beautiful when I was inside her. Oh shit.
Like a hot wind I breathed into his ear and through my desert breath I whispered, fuck me.
This was the trigger he needed. Instantly he plunged into me, all of him silk and steel. I always knew my brother would be big -- he filled me completely. He was so ready to come, but I felt the strength of every muscle in his body, commanding himself, willing himself to hold back. That was Max, to be in control of himself for someone else's sake, and it made me want to give everything I had to him. He pulled out a little and I teased him back in. But soon we couldn't play anymore.
A moment came and I knew, we both knew, we had melted into one person. We couldn't seem to get close enough to each other. I was wet with sweat, hot, golden, dizzy. I felt almost like I would black out. He thrust deeper and deeper, and the stroke of his hard cock against my throbbing clit made me come finally, my spasms of pleasure seizing around his erection until he also exploded in me and filled me up. I shuddered against his wet body as it released, heavy and weak. He lowered himself and lay down flat on top of me. He is my treasure and my strength. I felt so comforted feeling his weight over the length of me.
That was our first time, but we had it right from the beginning.
And that's how I got to this morning. I'm afraid to open my eyes, thinking it's just a dream. But it's not. I'm lying in bed with Isabel, our legs and arms entangled, my face resting in her hair up by her ear. If I kiss her ear lobe, she'll stir. And now I'm getting hard again. How many times can we be together before I feel satisfied?
It's really true. I'm waking up next to Max. The funny thing is, I never allowed myself to think about him this way before, but now it seems like this is the only way it should be not Michael or Grant or Alex. Not Liz or Tess or Maria. But the strongest combination possible. Max and me.
Max curled his dry lips around Isabel's ear lobe and let his warm breath escape into the sensitive opening of her ear. "Isabel," he whispered, lingering on the last syllable like an echo. "I love you."
Isabel shivered with the warmth of his breath and turned around in his arms to face him.
"You slept again last night. That's the second night in a row," she said, gently pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.
He grasped her thick, blonde hair in his hand and tugged so carefully, just enough to tilt her head up so that he could give her a full, warm kiss on her lips. She moaned softly as his kisses trailed down her neck to the hollow of her throat.
"You haven't been crying," he said between kisses.
"I think I'm done crying now."
He knew what she meant. He buried his head in her hair and held her tightly for comfort. To comfort her and himself.
"For the first time, Isabel, I finally feel like I'm home."
|DC Slash||Harry Potter||Ros. Hetero||Ros. Slash||Ros. Other|