Little Things Ch. 03 of 04

Then, I've reached my limit, his length filling my mouth almost to choking. A few more inches of his shaft still sitting tantalizing before my lips, even as the bulbous head presses firm and impassable at the back of my throat. Too much...a chill of disappointment blowing upon my ardor, and a moment's bitter wondering; could someone else have done better? Was April able to take him all the way inside, to leave her wine-red lipstick around the base of his cock?

No, I refuse to think about that. This moment is ours, no one else's. As long as David likes it...and my heart does bloom warmer again, listening to soft sounds of pleasure that drift down from his throat. Hunger burning in my gullet. Even if I can't take him entirely, I can still treat his cock like a king. Or a king's. Whatever.

His shaft stands sopping with my saliva as I pull back to just the head, spiraling my tongue in a slow and teasing circle on the sensitive skin. Luxuriating in his taste, in the subtly unique flavor of his maleness, thick and earthy. Letting my lips rub with aching softness around his cock as I begin to bob my head upon it, turning slightly so that it sweeps across the inside of my mouth, sliding from cheek to cheek across my affectionate tongue. Above me somewhere, a low groan of pleasure sounds, and I grin as much as I can manage around his presence in my mouth. Accelerating my pace, a little deeper, and my pussy yelling in my head until I consent to rub it slowly again on his thigh, my hips rolling firm against him.

I want him to do more, to take control more; he's just laying there. I mean, yeah, I told him to, but...still. Blindly, I reach outward until I find his hands laying slightly clenched upon the hay beneath us - he offers no resistance as I left them up and carefully place them on the back of my head. His fingers closing in my hair, laying so lightly at first I don't think he's even resting their full weight there...but as I continue sliding my lips tight around his cock, as I lather it with the attentions of my tongue, his hands slowly mould to the back of my skull, and I begin to feel a little push, a gentle guidance that I gladly adopt to find the tempo of his desire.

Awareness intrudes again, hot and heavy. God, we're really doing this. My brother's cock is in my mouth, thick and meaty as it pounds upon the back of my throat. If anyone could see us...it's a bubbling excitement down in my stomach. A feeling so - I almost think 'naughty,' but I hate that word. It's a term for twentysomethings in tartan skirts, giggling coyly for the camera as they pretend to be catholic schoolgirls. No, what I feel is the thrill of the forbidden, of breaking the rules, of being mad and wanton as I let my baby brother fuck my face, listening to his almost-grunts. Rubbing slowly at the base of his cock as the bulk of it pistons between my tingling lips.

It won't be long, now. I can hear it in his voice, strained mutterings of "Oh, god, Sam," feel it in the swollen, angry thickness of his cockhead as it slides over the base of my tongue. Hunger, desire, pushed to boiling; the trembling thrill of sex and power, shivering down my spine. He's going to cum, and it's because of me, because I made him do it. Because I'm the one he wants, the one who can give him pleasure, because he's mine.

The thought is a punctuation mark in my mind, a border where thought gives way to the frenzy of lust. Need burning down between my thighs, wet and demanding, not content even as my hips grind with all my strength upon David's leg; my right hand has to break away, descending to rub and stroke savagely at my rigid, aching clit. Sucking urgently at his cock with a sound obscene and electrifying, until I delight to hear the almost moan of warning, "Sam, I think I'm gonna..." Trailing off to shallow breaths, pure of tongue even in so charged a moment.

No question what he means. I force my head downwards upon his manhood, taking again as deep as I am able - pause there with the head of his cock planted tight and overpowering at the back of my throat. My tongue almost pinned in place by his girth. Then, the one real trick in my repertoire - I hum deep in my throat, and exult to hear the answering gasp of rapture from David, to feel his cockhead seal itself to the back of my mouth as it expands one last time, just before release. Thumb and forefinger twisting madly at my clit as the first spurt of his cum hits my throat - so hot, god I can't believe how hot it is - and then the next, and the next, pouring down to fill what little space is left in my mouth, and I keep my lips closed tight around his cock, not wanting to lose a drop. Some still oozing out at the corners of my mouth, dripping down at the base of his shaft, spilling in the golden tuft of his pubic hair.

It's too much; I need to swallow, have to, want to. His seed slides down my throat, hot and slimy, salty and thick. I can feel it all the way down, and then the realization hits, obvious and beautiful - David's cum is inside me - and with a final pinch of my clit my second orgasm hits, crazy and shaking, and for maybe ten seconds I don't think anything, just feel. Ecstasy shivering along my nerves, twitching in my muscles, spinning madly in my head; I'm consumed with joyous avarice, my fingernails biting possessively into his buttocks while I drink greedily the slowing jets of his cum as though it were some sugary treat. My cheek fallen helplessly against his thigh; he's bent near sideways, the little trickle that overflows my mouth dripping down onto the side of his leg. As the sense of overwhelming pleasure begins to ebb again, I close my eyes, wanting to rest in it just a moment longer. My face sticky with sweat and semen, my lips still wrapped and suckling lazily at the head of his softening cock. Everything, for a moment, so simple, so sweet. So right.

David's breathing as hard as if he's just run a marathon. That's the first thing I notice, as my eyes flutter back open, as the cogs in my head begin again to turn. A faintly self-conscious sense of absurdity, already, in contemplating my emotions of moments prior. My whole body feels deliciously drained, exhausted by ecstasy; it takes some effort just to push myself up to my palms to survey the situation. A mess at his groin, my saliva mixed with his cum; I try clumsily to wipe it clean with my hand, but it scarcely helps, and after a few attempts I just pull his briefs neatly back into place to cover up the problem.

"Sam..." His voice comes breathlessly, quiet but intense. I glance up with a stubbornly contented smile to see him pushed up on his elbows, staring at me so deep and serious. His mouth hanging half-open, as his breathing begins its slow return to normal. "Samantha, I..."

"Yes?" Purring softly back as I crawl forward on hands and knees, creeping up his body. His eyes following me up, wide and worshipful. "What is it, baby brother?" I almost coo, with a glow again of self-indulgence.

He holds a hand out for my approach, beckoning, his palm catching on my cheek adoringly possessive as I draw up close. "I just..." His voice still sounding almost dazed by his experience as his thumb slides slow and loving at the side of my face. "I love you."

A sniff of humor. "I know you do." Fondly, as I lay down upon his chest, nuzzling slightly at his neck. So warm there, in the crook of it. Like a little burrow.

His hand migrates slowly to the back of my head, stroking soft and unfocused at my hair, his fingers combing tenderly through. Gently petting, as my whole body rises and falls with his slowing breath. Like I'm just a little girl on top of him, sleepy and safe, his other arm rising to enfold me at the waist. But when he speaks again, his tongue is firmer, possessed by some newfound urgency of purpose. "You're everything I could want, you know? You're smart, and you're beautiful, and you're caring..."

"Mmm." I laugh tiredly, the sound vibrating between our bodies. "A little late to butter me up, isn't it? I already sucked you off." Pleased at the compliment, despite the dodge. My arms curl up at his sides, clasping loosely around the gentle bulk of him. Can hardly think of anything but what a good bed he makes.

"No, Sam," he whispers fiercely, and I feel the biting chill of danger in the fervor of his voice. In the uncharacteristic wildness of his eyes, as I raise my head again to look. His hands tightening with excitement. "We can do this. We can be together."

Panic flashes down my spine in an icy stream. "David, don't..." A murmur, softly pleading. He can't be serious. I told him...it's impossible. He's my brother. It can never happen, never be real; he'll only hurt himself, wanting it.

"I'll follow you." A little smile strains on his face, furtive and desperately hopeful as a prisoner on the run. His eyes urgent and promising as they bore into mine. "To college, and wherever after. We can live together...or just, just close to each other..."

"David..." My head shaking with an earnest worry. He's crazy. However sweet it might be to pretend, to play at the idea here in warm togetherness...it's a dream. You don't dream of flying and then go jumping out of windows.

"Sam, we can do it." His hands squeeze at my upper arms as though to impress me with the strength of his belief, the force of his feeling. A prayer in his eyes. "No one else would have to know, if you don't want them to, and we could do...only what you want, but..."

"Shh..." I shush him, softly, but it takes the touch of my pursed lips to his mouth before he finally quiets. A kiss, to stifle the danger of his words. God, why does he have to do this? There's a trembling of fear in my heart, and I'm not even sure why, of what. Like he's calling down doom upon us. Like there's a monster in the air, one that he would carelessly awaken in speaking so bold and blatant of impossible things. And a pounding from the back of my skull, guilt and shame come calling - that it's my fault, that I've pushed too far, brought this upon us, and all the joy and tenderness of the moment shivers towards collapse beneath their disgusted gaze.

No. No, no, no, I won't face it, not yet. My arms wrap tight around his neck and back as I kiss him harder, hiding from myself behind the pleasures of his lips, refusing the words that he must not speak. Laying like that, astride his body, until I feel the tiny slump of surrender slacken his muscles beneath me. Only then do I pull back. "Don't." A whispered plea, my smile weak and fervent. "Please, Davey, let's not talk right now. Let's just lie here together, okay?" Biting softly at my lip, worried and cajoling. "No words. Just you and me."

And...mercy. Gratitude beating ragged in my heart - he nods, sad and silent, no longer tempting fate. I'm only too eager to settle down against him, sliding into place with my head nuzzling at his neck, the rest of my body half atop his. Embracing the fatigue in my soul, the warmth and size of his bulk against me...not permitting myself to think. Not right now. That'll come later, inevitably; for now, I just submerge my mind in the smell of his sweat, in the feeling of his fingers at my waist, in the sleepy, sensual glow of satisfaction that still pulses from somewhere beneath my stomach. Letting my consciousness drift and slide away in the warm, stuffy air of the barn. Just two more words escape me, hardly more than thought as my consciousness falls off into slumber. "It's okay." A final reassurance to the boy, the man beside me. I don't want him to hurt.

---

Hours later. My eyes peel slowly open, staring dully at the curve of David's neck. My mouth dry and sticky - gummy flakes of something peeling, rolling about as I shift my tongue, and I think I know what they are. The air around us heavy in my nose, redolent with the stench of stale sex and the faint, sickening sweetness of rotting hay.

"God damn it." Not loud, but bitterness and despair crowd thickly into the words as I roll off of him, as he begins to stir and awaken. Hot shame burning its way through me as I rise to my feet. I can feel the cum caked on my cheek, see the spot of darkness still on his pant leg where I rubbed off against him like a bitch in heat. Memories burning in my mind; how gleefully I dove upon my brother's cock, how recklessly I ordered him to lick me. How vulgar and base, cloying with the stink of filth and of corruption. "God damn it, David." Intensity like a shattered glass in my voice, while he sits up, looking at me with uncertain dismay. "What the fuck are we doing?" A question half rhetorical.

For some moments, his head shakes in silent terror. His lips only hesitantly parting, struggling to offer up an answer. "Nothing." It sounds as much a question as anything else. "We're...you said it's just a game, that it was just, um...practice."

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit." I hiss back at him savagely. The red of fury stinging behind my eyes, aimed mainly at myself but spilling over easily onto him as well. Practice. A game. What idiot would buy those sorry excuses? He's not that dumb - my recollection rings with his hesitation as I pushed at the limits, his skepticism at these transparent justifications, and my voice grows arch with the violence of outrage. "You knew it was bullshit, and you just went ahead anyway."

Even as I speak it, I realize the unfairness of this accusation. Blaming him for caving to my demands. But still his head bows in apology, his lips moving humbly to shape those two familiar words. "I'm sorry." Meaning it, however insanely. His sincerity somehow just infuriates me further. Angry at how eagerly he takes the blame, how senselessly he would sacrifice himself.

"Oh, forget it." Fuming, as I stalk back and forth atop the bales. "God damn it. This is insane. Look at me. Or, no, don't." Quickly changing my mind as I realize my half-nakedness, snatching for the panties that lie hanging just off the edge of a bale. "Look at us, at how far we've fallen in only a couple days. How long before we're just outright fucking each other, huh? Tomorrow? The day after?"

He sits now with legs curled up before him, back against the wall. His voice cautious and slow, equal parts reassuring and imploring. "Sam...we don't have to do anything you don't want."

"That's not the point," I snarl back, my lips twisting harshly. Pulling on my clothes again, trying to recapture some shred of decency. "It would happen. You know it would. Fuck, you're already planning out some kind of god-damn lifelong affair."

Huddled there, he looks so much smaller than he really is. So vulnerable and raw, as his mouth moves silently, building up the courage to speak. "Would it be so awful?" The words finally emerge, his eyes rising up to mine wide and beseeching. "If we did? If we had...just for a little while..."

"Christ, David." Scorn and bile fight to cover the fear in my voice. "I'm your sister, remember? Remember that? What's the best-case scenario here, we move out to a trailer in Tennessee and raise a herd of mutant kids?" My head shakes violently, as though to deny everything that's happened. Trying to drive away the madness that's possessed me. "No. I'm an idiot for letting this go on as long as it has. It's over."

"What do you mean?" His hands clutch fearfully at loose straws of hay.

"What the fuck do you think I mean?" The words come out cruel and biting. Standing over him now fully clothed, save for my boots. "Over. Done. No more feeling me up. No more making out. No more late-night grind sessions or blowjobs. Everything is over. Get it?"

"Sam," he swallows anxiously, his gaze fallen to my feet. His voice emerging again half-broken, a tightening of not-so-distant tears. "Samantha, listen. I know I pushed you, talking about...about maybe having something real. I wanted too much, and...you don't know how sorry I am." Low tones, ringing with a faint melody of pain and forlorn hope. "But the last few days...they've been so wonderful for me, like a dream I never really thought could come true. And I think - I thought you felt a little bit of the same thing, maybe." Lurching to his knees, he grabs for my hand, squeezes it in his large grasp, desperate and pleading. Our stance like a bitter mirror to a proposal. "If you did, if it's...it shouldn't have to end because of my mistake. I swear, Sam, I'll be happy with as little or as much as you want to have. I won't ask for a single step past your desire. Please."

Somewhere inside, I feel a bleak irony, a shadow of humor. My desire, my wants - he's so fixated on those, like they're all that matters. Like if I just wanted us to live as lovers, it would suddenly be fine. If only. "You still don't get it, David." The words emerge quick and cutting as I tear my hand from his grasp, his body seeming to sag as I do like a marionette with severed strings. Pathetic. This little Actaeon, abased at my feet like I'm his Diana. My heart twinges in quiet pity, concern, even past my still-simmering anger. Pathos. God, but he feels so much, hurts so much - his world a place built of rusty nails and broken glass. I was his refuge for so long, offering him comfort without question, bandaging the wounds that life dealt him. Now I'm the destroyer, burning his dreams and salting the earth in which they grew. I hate the role...but I don't see what other is open. "We can't." Flatter. Softer. Not aiming to hurt him further, just to tell the truth - painful as it might be. An errant thought, advice. "Besides...god, a girl doesn't even want a guy who always does exactly what she says."

He's an object on the ground, a frozen lump of flesh and fabric. Not moving. Hardly breathing. His eyes staring straight into the floor - if he even has them open. Gingerly, I drop down before him, knees bent to my side. "David, look at me." Quiet words - he looks dutifully up, and I bite inside my lip at the glimmering of tears I see collected in those gentle blue eyes. "I need to make sure we're clear. That you understand." Pressing on regardless. "You can't kiss me. You can't sleep in my bunk. We can't hug or hold hands." Staring seriously. "In fact, you can't touch me at all. Or get into my personal space." Quiet. My breath escaping slow and tired. That should be enough - a prohibition thorough and complete, separating us further than we've been since...hell, than we've ever been. But needed, necessary. I can't risk the loopholes that so utterly destroyed my last attempt at setting boundaries. A moment's pause before I finish, my voice firm and remorseless as the fall of winter. "Tell me you understand."

Silence. His gaze hovers fitfully in my features, edging like a skittish deer around my eyes before dodging away again. A little struggle there, in the depths of his expression, the trying of a fight against this cruelty of apart I would impose. And as once before, I wonder for a moment at what might happen if he refused. If he rose up fierce and powerful before me, took me in his arms despite my protestations. If he turned his strength against me and made me his, here on this bed of hay. If I didn't have the choice to step away, to obey the counsel of reason and responsibility; if I only had the afterward, with the deed already done and no further left to fall...

"I understand." His voice comes faint and hollow. Reality. His misery palpable before me as his eyes fall shut, forcing free a tear to trickle a lonely path down his cheek. God, but I wish I could wipe it away, that I could throw my arms around him and tell him that everything is okay, that I do love him past all the madness of the moment.

But I can't. Not right now, not when I've just said how we dare not even stand close to one another. Instead I rise back to my feet, harden my heart enough to paste a faint smile on my face, despite that he can't see it. "Good." Irony bitter in my soul, turning to pull on my boots. "I'm going to go back to the house. Just...stay out here for a little while, okay?" Seconds passing, until his silence is acknowledgement enough. "Like a half-hour. I just need some time alone." And with nothing more to say, I descend down the pile of bales, leaving behind his hunched and wretched form. Trying not to feel the keen of his sorrow, the mirrored pain of this rejection.