Let's Stop Playing Games

This can be read as a standalone story, but it is a continuation of another work called No Way to Stop the Game. Everything that happens in the first part is covered in the first portion of this story, so if you don't want spoilers I recommend going to read that before continuing. This is also way longer than the first portion and deepens the storyline. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Premise: After the death of Lauren's mother, she moves to Texas to live with her dad, his wife, and her half-brother named Davis.

-

One week.

A full week has passed since I impaled myself on my half-brother in front of a bunch of other seniors at school.

A full week since we moved upstairs after that and had sex for real.

That marks the third week I've been living with Davis, my dad, and Lindsay.

It's also the third week that I've been trying to get used to this ridiculous weather in Texas. I'm used to heat since New York summers are hot and humid. But here, sweltering doesn't even begin to describe what it's like. It's arid and relentless, the air feels thick, and the nights don't even offer any relief.

I still hate being here. I miss home and my friends.

But at the very least, because of the party last week, I don't completely feel like an outsider. I'm grateful that Becky's as nice at school as she was at the party, and even though she's been strict enough about the 'no talking about the adult games when we're done' rule that James forced everyone to agree to, that doesn't stop her from looking pointedly at Davis and poking me in the side.

After English one day, she told me under her breath that she and Evan had hooked up that night.

"We couldn't go to either of our houses, so we did it outside the Airbnb at like, 2 in the morning." She said with a wrinkled nose.

She'd been curious about me and Davis, but I vehemently denied that anything had happened between us after he carried me upstairs to put me to bed. She seemed to buy it, or, at the least, had shrugged and let it go for the time being. But she still hadn't stopped looking between me and my half-brother whenever he was in the vicinity.

The truth is, after we slept together upstairs and he took me home, Davis and I haven't said one word to each other... which makes living together a pain.

He's been moody and brooding as ever, but every so often when he thinks I won't notice I catch him staring at me. I don't mind it, really--in fact, I may have started wearing more leggings and cropped tees while home.

It's the only thing different from when I first moved in. At least before the party we basically knew nothing about each other. I could make excuses for why he seemed to hate me, for how he would do his best to pretend I didn't exist. But especially after what happened I can't understand why he's insisting on acting the same way.

I almost want to start a fight, just so I have an excuse to talk to him. Maybe then at least it would lead to us having makeup sex or something of the ilk. But I guess I don't have the guts to do so, so it's just led to it things feeling awkward and unstated between us at home.

Even so, I can't lie. I can't stop thinking about what happened between us. When I close my eyes, I start remembering the feeling of him sliding in and out of me, his weight on top of me as our bodies moved together.

Despite the fact that we're related, I have no regrets about what happened at the party. I didn't even regret when I sobered up and woke the next morning with a raging hangover. But it seemed he didn't feel the same way.

What made it even more confusing for me was how that night, after we came back home in the early morning, he'd walked me to my room. He even insisted on tucked me in, even though I was already sobering up by that point. But come the next morning, he'd gone back to ignoring me and pretending like I didn't exist.

So now I've been trying to do the same.

Not that it's working out all too well for me.

"So, kiddos." My dad says awkwardly. He's not looking at me, nor is he looking at Davis. He has his eyes trained on the plate of spaghetti in front of him. "Lindsay and I have been talking, and we just got a hotel for a weekend trip in Vegas. We'll be gone from Friday morning and get back on Sunday night."

"So... tomorrow?" I ask.

"Right," dad coughs, unnecessarily dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

Lindsay hurriedly swallows her bite, pointing her fork at her son. "Davis, you'll need to take care of the chores. All the usual stuff like taking out the trash, and changing--actually, I'll just make a list for you. Point is, don't let Lauren do anything, alright?"

She smiles sweetly at me. I don't glare at her like I want to, but I don't return it either. It's hard to hate her as much as I want to when she's been nothing but kind and welcoming to me.

She's a pretty woman, too, and it bothers me how much of her looks she gave to Davis.

"Sure, mom." Davis says, munching on his bread. I do give him a bit of a glare, hating how drawn I am to his sharp jawline and protruding Adam's apple. It bobs as he swallows his bite.

Dad looks between the two of us, his shoulders slumping a bit as he sees my scathing expression.

"We'll leave some money for you to have pizza one night or something. Otherwise there'll be enough in the fridge to keep the two of you alive for a few days." He chuckles at his own joke, but no one laughs. Lindsay just offers him a sympathetic smile. "Anyways, it's pretty last minute, but if either of you need anything you know we're just a call away."

Neither of us respond to that and the meal resumes as it had been going, with Davis and I eating silently, my dad and Lindsay chattering about work and neighborhood gossip.

After dinner, there's a knock on my door.

"What is it, dad?" I call out, in bed and scrolling on my phone.

"It's me."

I scramble out of bed, smoothing down the ends of my hair as I get up. When I place my hand on the handle it hits me that there's no reason for me to make myself look more presentable for his sake, so when I actually pull the door open there's a scowl on my face.

"What do you want?" I keep my voice low.

His stupidly broad shoulders are held stiff as he stands there. The only thing that moves is his eyes, which flick to my shoulder, where one of my sleeves have slipped off my shoulder. I pull it up as he talks.

"I just talked to my mom. She said to tell you that if you need a ride anywhere, you should ask me."

He's not even here of his own volition. Figures.

I put on a fake smile.

"Great, thanks Davis!" I say it in the most chipper way that I can before making to slam the door shut.

He reaches out to grab the door before I can close it, though, and the wood gives a dull thud against his palm. He's looking at me, his dark eyes scanning over my face like they're trying to understand something.

"Lauren, I was--"

But then the door down the hall is opening and he's pulling away, walking back towards his room.

"And you'd better be happy about it, Davis!" I close the door to the sound of Lindsay's joke.

Despite myself, I clench my hands by my sides, my heart pounding. I've been trying my best to forget what'd happened, just like he's insisted on doing. But no amount of resolve can keep my body from reacting to him.

He'd been my first, after all.

I'm still a bit angry as I get back into bed and pull up my messaging app. I literally offered him free reign to come to my room every night, and he hasn't taken me up on the offer once. The next night, I'd laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with my nerves out of control. I waited until early morning for him to come, but he didn't.

Every night thereafter had felt even worse as I was confronted with the fact that he had no interest in me or my body. Either way, I was dead tired every day. Remembering why I was yawning throughout classes just made me more annoyed, both with him and myself.

I type out my message. My phone pings as it sends.

Lauren: I could use a pick me up. If you're not busy tonight, wanna go for milkshakes?

The response comes almost immediately. Only a couple seconds pass between each message, and I smile, imagining her typing furiously.

Becky: omg. yes please!

Becky: you would not believe the night I've been having

Becky: like I'm so SICK of these girls at church

Becky: they're so catty it's ridiculous

Becky: but yeah I'm at youth service rn so can you call me and pretend you're having an emergency?

When I call, she immediately picks up. Her responses don't even match what I say and what she says sounds so obviously fake, but I just hang on until she walks out of wherever she is. The shouting in the background is replaced by the sound of wind blowing against the microphone as she walks, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Okay. Thank God you texted me." Her keys jingle. "Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"Yeah, I'll text you the address."

The audio changes. I can tell her phone connected to her car, the sound getting muddy and loud. "Perfect!" Her voice rings in my ear. "I'll text you ETA!"

We hang up and I quickly type out the address, replacing the house number with one down the street, right near the entrance. After a moment, her response comes. It'll take her twenty minutes.

Davis showing up outside my door has put me in an odd mood, and it's for that reason that I pull on a low cut top and snug jeans. I'm not particularly busty, but I feel satisfied when I look down and see the hint of cleavage I can see.

I'm grateful to have made friends with Becky. She still confuses me, because for someone who spends so much time at church, she's awfully comfortable talking about her extensive sexual history. But, she's bright and caring and she remembers everything I say. And, she never fails to introduce me to any other people at school, so it's felt a little bit less like a foreign place to me.

I knock on my dad's room on the way out.

"What is it, Davis?" The door opens just then and Lindsay's standing there. "Oh sorry, maybe I shouldn't have assumed--"

"It's fine," I say, not offended. It's the first time I've really knocked on their door, anyway. "I'm just letting you know I'm headed out. Getting milkshakes with a friend."

"That's great, Lauren! I'll let your dad know. He's just in the bathroom right now. Don't be back too late and have fun!"

"Thanks, Lindsay."

I turn down the hall, and the door thumps softly as she closes it behind me.

It's when I'm descending the stairs that I hear it, and I have to close my eyes and let out a sigh. It's the sound of Davis filling up his water bottle.

I should just go back in my room and wait for him to go back in. Then I can go out.

My phone vibrates.

Becky: almost there! like 2 mins

I need to be outside by the time she gets in, or she'll see Davis's car in the driveway and know we live together.

My feet start taking me down the stairs as my brain reasons with me. I don't need to say anything to him. We just live in the same house, and it's not like I'm obligated to sit in the kitchen with him and chat.

All of that reasoning feels useless when I emerge in the kitchen to see Davis about to take a drink of water and directly facing the doorway I just came through.

He lowers his water bottle, his eyes traveling down what I've changed into and lingering on my chest.

I want to snicker, because for all his effort to pretend I don't exist, he sure is easy to distract.

Either way, it looks like he's thinking about whether to say something or not, but before he can decide I flounce past him and head out the door.

It still feels way too hot for it being evening, and I make a mental note I need to buy more tank tops like this one. If it's already this hot when summer is just beginning, I can't imagine how I'll survive once it gets hotter. I walk to the house number I sent Becky and am relieved when just in time, she pulls up in her little red sedan.

"Get in, girlfriend!" She rolls her window down, and I clamber into the front seat with a grin.

"Thanks for coming."

"I was happy for the distraction," she said, reversing out of the driveway with alarming speed. She puts the car into drive without waiting for the car to stop moving, and then we're on the road. "What happened, though? Get in a fight at home or something?"

Because of how good Becky's memory is, I haven't told her anything about who I live with or what my home situation looks like right now; all she knows is that I moved here from New York because mom died, which is, in fact, true.

I just shrug. "Something like that. If it's okay, I'd rather not talk about it."

"'Kay. One order of distraction, coming right up!" She talks my ear off as she speeds along the roads, telling me the tea about some girls at church who I've never met. Apparently there's drama because someone is accusing another girl of stealing her boyfriend, and it'd just been unfounded rumors that everyone had written off. That was, until one of them had pulled up the receipts and put them up on the projector after worship ended.

"When I say the room exploded, Lauren. Like, nothing gets a bunch of teens more excited than drama about cheating and relationships." She takes a sharp turn into the plaza where Aubrey's Diner stands, and I have to dig my hands into the seat to prevent myself from bonking my head against the car door. "But we're better than that, right?"

"Are we?" I laugh.

"Of course we are!" I know it's a joke, though, her eyes twinkling as she speeds into a parking space. "Now, I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but since we're on the topic I have something to tell you about your little boy toy."

I nearly choke on my spit, but she's already halfway out the car and walking to the front door. I have to half-jog to keep up with the pace of her long legs, and barely make it in time to walk trail right behind her. The bell jingles as the door swings shut behind us and we slide into the nearest booth.

A heavyset waitress saunters up to us and drops off a couple of sticky menus. "Waters all right for ya gals?"

I can't get used to hearing Southern accents in real life. They feel fake half the time.

"Yes please!" Becky says cheerily, and with a nod the waitress walks away.

"So," I say, pulling a menu in front of me. "What is this about my boy toy?"

She laughs. "Well, first off, Evan and I are back together."

"Yay!" I clap for her, and she ducks her head in a little bow. "You'll have to tell me about that next."

"Oh, you know I will. But yes, dating Evan comes with all sorts of perks. One of them being that I get to hear about some juicy tidbits--not that he has that many, mind you. Sometimes it's a wonder how he has any social life at all when he's such a loner. But it's nice because that gives us a ton of time to--"

Two waters slide in front of us, ice clinking in the glasses.

"Know what you're feelin'?" The waitress asks.

"Just a vanilla shake for me, please." Becky slides her untouched menu towards the edge of the table.

"And for you, hon?"

I somewhat frantically locate the milkshake section and choose the first one that catches my eye. "The peach cobbler one for me, thank you."

"Won't be but a minute, girls." She nods, grabbing the menus and walking away.

"Anyways." Becky says, like she hadn't been interrupted at all. "One of the rare times when Evan tells me a piece of gossip I don't know--and I know how you get whenever I mention Davis so I'll keep it short. But at the party last week, when Evan told Davis he was going to go upstairs for the games, apparently he looked upset and then said he was going to go up, too."

My stomach drops at the mention. Davis had basically told me as much last week, but hearing it from Becky feels different. For one, it makes Davis's odd concern for me that night feel even more out of place. It also makes whatever had been between us way less confidential, because both Evan and Becky witnessed our odd dynamic.

"I know you barely know him, but he's like, not the type to come around for those sorts of things. I didn't think he would join. And, Evan said that during the games he kept looking over at you." Becky leans forward, the table underneath her chest pushing it up. "Evan's tried to ask Davis about it all, get some info about what happened or what might happen, but apparently he's been pretty quiet about it all."

She shrugs, taking a sip of water.

"There wasn't anything that happened," I lie, desperate to cover up what happened between us. "I barely remember much because I ended up drinking so much. But he just asked me where I lived and drove me home that night."

Becky hmms. "That's disappointing. I think the two of you could be a good match. If you're into the strong, silent type."

"I don't know," I say carelessly. It doesn't sound very convincing, not even to me.

"Well, sounds like you might need to know! I mean, prom's just around the corner. Imagine if you end up going with Davis. Since I'm going with Evan, it'd just about be the perfect double date."

I raise my eyebrows and force a change of topic. "So I can watch the two of you suck face all night? Something tells me I should refuse."

"Like you haven't seen us do much worse," she says with a grin, and it makes me choke on my water. She laughs as I sputter, wiping my mouth.

She's talking, of course, about how they'd had sex in front of the whole circle that night. I'd been the first to get dared to do something like that and had been in Davis's lap, facing away from everyone as the dares escalated.

"I was a little preoccupied at the moment," I say, and immediately regret it. I've returned the conversation back to me and Davis.

"Oh, don't worry." She says quietly, but her teasing expression says it all. "I remember."

I've never been more thankful in my life when the waitress brings our two milkshakes over. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you." Both of us chorus, grabbing our milkshakes.

It's quiet between the both of us as we sip on our frothy drinks. Mine does indeed taste like peach cobbler, and maybe even a bit more than I had hope for. It almost tasted as if they blended up vanilla ice cream with a serving of cobbler filling, and when I gulp it down my jaw aches from its richness.

"So if you're not into Davis, what kind of boys do you like?" Becky licks a bit of whipped cream at the corner of her mouth and leans back with crossed arms. "Since you're rocking the kind of 'shy girl in big city' aesthetic, I'm thinking..."

I raise my eyebrows at her as she thinks. "That's not a real aesthetic."

"I don't know, my guess is still guys like Davis."

I stir at my shake, thinking hard about it. I don't have much dating experience at all, and I don't think that the couple boyfriends I've had share a type. "Actually, I kind of liked talking to James."

A grin breaks out on her face as she leans in, her hand on her chin. "Oh? Do tell!"

I clear my throat, a reluctant smile on my own face. "I haven't thought about it much, okay? But he was just really nice. And, I don't know. He seemed into me."

"I know he was. And James is a decent guy. Loads of fun, really nice, always a good time. Although, I feel qualified to comment on him since the two of us grew up together. He's like, kind of not husband material, if that's important to you."

"Why's that?" I furrow my brow.

She sighs, stirring her shake.

"He's just a little emotionally dense. I've seen too many girls take him too seriously and then get their hearts broken." She looks up at me, her face relaxing. "But if you know what you're getting into, then by all means. I've heard he's a good lay--"

I clear my throat to hide my reaction.

"--but I don't like thinking about him like that, because he's literally like my brother."

God. She's just choosing all the worst things to say to me, because now I'm thinking about how I actually did have sex with my brother. To avoid thinking about Davis, I just shrug. "I haven't even seen him since the party. So it's not like it's likely."

And that was ignoring what Davis had said about wanting to protect me from James right after we slept together. About James having an STD or doing something to girls. I can't remember what he'd called it. Staving or steadying, or something like that.

"You're right," Becky sighs dramatically. "I'll just have to hold out for you and Davis, then."

I roll my eyes and sip on my shake.

"By the way, there is something I'm curious about. I know I'm breaking the rules but I've just been dying to know, and it's not like there's anyone from school here," she says, lowering her voice and looking around to see if the coast is clear.

"Something tells me I'm not going to like your question," I groan, but don't dissuade her from asking it. I feel like she's going to ask me about my history or something, and then I'll have to make up some ex-boyfriend who took my virginity. I'm just not as comfortable as she is talking about this stuff, and certainly not as experienced.

Becky leans in again and lowers her voice. "The reason why I keep teasing you about Davis is because you're the one who chose him. Why did you?"

My stomach flutters at the question, and I bite my lip. I have to choose my words carefully. And so, when I answer her, it feels like I'm saying all the wrong things.

"I kind of don't know. We hadn't talked much up til then. Well, we don't even talk now. But him and James were really the only ones I even knew the names of, apart from Evan. And, James..." I trail off. Davis had gotten my attention and then warned me away from James. If he hadn't, I one hundred percent would have picked him. So, I settle for a half-truth. "He invited me upstairs to help set up for the games, but there was nothing to set up. And it didn't feel like a red flag, but it made me kind of nervous. It just felt easier to pick someone that feels like a stranger, you know?"

I cringe as I finish saying it, but Becky nods thoughtfully.

"I guess. I highly do not recommend playing games when someone you have a history with is there. Like I bet if I picked anyone else for my dares, Evan and I would not be dating again." She sighs, and I'm just about to ask her for more details about the first time they dated when I hear someone talk to me.

"Lauren, is that you?"

My stomach drops as I see someone walk towards us from the other end of the diner, a grin on his handsome face. That damn dimple.

"Haven't seen you since last week! And hey, Becks."

"Speak of the devil," she says, turning around. "We were just talking about big douchebags that stink."

He takes it in stride and laughs. "Good, I'm sure you two were talking about me for a long time then."

"Hi, James," I say, feeling inexplicably nervous, and more so after what Becky and I had just talked about.

"Hey." He says, and I see his eyes linger on my cleavage. "Were you feeling okay after the party? You were pretty drunk."

"Yeah," I give a self-conscious laugh, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I'm not a big drinker, and after the shots in the games--"

"No talking about the games." He reminds me mischievously.

"Sorry," I say. "Either way, it gave me a wicked hangover the next morning, so I don't think I'll be drinking like that anytime soon."

"That's a shame, 'cuz you're kinda cute when you're drunk."

I feel my cheeks get warm, and hope they're not as red as they feel.

"Anyways, I was actually planning on finding someone who has your number to ask you if you wanted to hang out sometime."

I keep my eyes trained on James, but in my periphery I see Becky try to hide her smile.

"I can give you my number," I say, wondering if I'll regret it. But when he eagerly digs out his phone, I punch in my number before handing it back.

"Thanks, I'll text you later." He flashes us a smile and walks away with half a wave. "See ya!"

"What was that?" Becky says in awe as soon as he leaves.

"I think we summoned him." I say with nervous laughter.

"Maybe if I talk about Davis some more I'll summon him too, and then we can make them fight over you like Romans or something."

I chortle at the ridiculous image. "You're kidding."

"Okay, but my money's on Davis. He's got those swimmer muscles, or whatever. Also, James is a bit of a wimp sometimes. He'll never forgive me for telling you this, but when we were kids I saw him get into his first 'fight' at recess. Let me tell you. It was shameful."

She tells me more embarrassing stories about James as we slurp down the rest of our shakes, and by the time we pay and leave I'm feeling much better. Between being asked out by James and being sufficiently distracted by Becky's energy, it's only as we're drawing near to the neighborhood that I'm thinking about what I'll do about the situation.

I'm really dreading being in the house with him all weekend. It feels like dad and Lindsay couldn't have chosen a worse weekend to go on a surprise vacation on, because I'm still stewing in my anger from Davis's wordless rejection. And, it's not like I have a license or a car, so the only way I can leave the house is if I ask Becky to hang out again, which I feel bad doing after tonight.

Davis isn't the type to go out, either. I think he goes to swim throughout the week, but otherwise he's usually just hanging out at home.

"Let me know if you two go on a date," Becky says through the window as she waves goodbye. For a moment I have to wonder whether she's talking about Davis or James, and then realize that most of what I thought about Davis was all in my head. For all Becky knows, I'm about to go have a hot fling with James.

"Will do." I smile, waving her off and yelling after her as she speeds off. "See you Monday!"

My mood has indeed been lifted, and as I walk back into the neighborhood my footsteps feel lighter.

My phone buzzes as I'm walking, and I check the message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Heyy it's James! Thanks for the number :)

I quickly save the contact, realizing that I don't even know what his last name is. As I walk up the last stretch of sidewalk I type out a response.

Lauren: Hi James! It was nice seeing you earlier. I don't think we have classes or lunch together.

I turn the key in the lock and stand right inside the door.

James: Yeahh we don't. After last week I did some digging and heard you're Lunch B. Shame cuz I would've invited you to sit with me!

I feel the corners of my lips rise at the thought of him asking around about me. Which, now that I think about it, is pretty funny too. I have a few acquaintances, maybe, but I haven't gotten close to anyone other than Becky. I climb the stairs, and apart from the light under Davis's door it feels dead. Inside my room, I text James back.

Lauren: That's so nice of you! Tbh I was grateful for your convo at the party. I didn't know anyone so I was really nervous about going.

James: Lol I'm glad to be of service. I couldn't resist getting to know a cute girl

I lean against my pillow, stifling my smile. He's laying it on thick, but I kind of like it. When I don't immediately respond, my phone buzzes again.

James: Anyways, I was thinking. If you're free sometime, wanna hang out? We can grab dinner or something

James: Idk how much you've been able to experience, but St. Bovine's has some bombass burgers

James: My treat!

I inhale, watching the messages pop up one by one. After Davis's warning and what Becky said earlier, I'm not entirely sold on hanging out with James like this. But Becky said he's a lot of fun, and well... I'm not in the mood to listen to Davis, really.

And, it gives me the perfect excuse to get out of the house.

Lauren: Really? Sounds fun! How about tom night?

James: Hell yeahhh. I'm helping my bro with smth in the afternoon. Is 7 good?

Lauren: Yes! Although, I'm so sorry to ask but is there any way you can pick me up?

Lauren: I don't have my license or a car, so it be kinda rough sometimes.

James: Ofc, no prob. Send me the addy and I'll be there to pick you up

I give him the same address that I sent to Becky earlier, an uninhibited smile on my face now. After the stress of moving here and having to deal with living with completely new people, this feels like a nice change. It's exciting, even. At least James won't treat me like I'm a burden like Davis does. Or like Lindsay, like I'm a little girl to be coddled.

I like the way he treats me with interest, and even if he acts familiar with me, the fact that he's gone so far as asking me out on a date is nice. My phone buzzes again.

James: Oh shit no wayyy

James: Did you know one of your neighbors is Davis LOL

My stomach drops. Immediately I regret saying yes. Even though James is the strictest one when it comes to keeping everything about his party confidential, who knows what'd happen if he finds out that Davis and I are living in the same house? If anyone from school finds out that the guy who I sat on is my brother, I might just die.

At the least, I'll have an excuse to run away back to New York.

But I need to say something to him, so it's with a heavy heart and slow thumbs that I write out a response.

Lauren: ... I didn't know that at all. But I guess that just gives me more reason to stay home all day :')

James: Nothing wrong with being neighbors lol he's pretty quiet so I doubt he'd be a jerk about... you know.

I'm so thankful for James's insistence on not talking about what happened. But still, I can't resist throwing in a jab about my brother.

Lauren: Hey, aren't we not supposed to talk about that?? I'd just like to forget the party, really.

Lauren: It's funny you say he's not a jerk though. Sometimes he gives off those vibes.

James: Really? You talk to him often or something?

Lauren: Oh no, after he gave me a ride home I haven't really seen him since.

James: Whew I was nervous you've been getting cozy

James: He's a pretty good guy tbh but was weirdly insistent about being the one to take you upstairs

James: Got me worried he was gonna try smth on you

Lauren: Does this not qualify as talking about the games?

James: Shit you're right lol you're beating my own game

James: I gotta go talk to my mom but I'll text you tomorrow!

Lauren: Sure! Can't wait!

James: Same. Gn Lauren!

I put my phone on my chest as I sink into my pillows, relieved that the conversation is over. Skirting around Davis is hard enough, but it's another thing to read James's poorly hidden jealousy.

Although, there is one oddity that kind of bothers me.

James is making it sound like Davis was crossing boundaries at the party, or at least had ill intentions when he carried me upstairs. Maybe he feels okay saying that because Davis had pretended like I'd passed out while sitting in his lap, so James thinks that I didn't hear what Davis said.

But, from my fuzzy memory of the night I didn't feel like Davis had been weird.

I lump it in with the rest of James's jealousy, though, which adds to the warm excitement in my stomach.

I'm going on a date tomorrow!

It really is perfect, given that I can escape the house for a few hours. I'm sure that hanging out with James will be no shortage of fun and that at the very least he'll take my mind off of everything else.

By the time I visit the bathroom to get ready for bed, the light under Davis's door has gone out.

-

When I wake up the next day, the house already feels emptier.

I have no way of telling this at all, but I think it's my mental state more than anything.

Indeed, when I wake up and stumble down the hall to look out the window, dad's car is missing from out front. I think both him and Lindsay are early birds, so I'm sure that they booked their flight for ungodly demon hours.

I go into the bathroom to wash up, and when I remember what I'm going to be doing later today my heart skips a beat. I'm more excited than I realized, and after I wash my face I take the extra time to pluck my brows and put on a face mask.

After I spread it on, I have to laugh at what my face looks like. It looks like I've spread minty green acrylic paint all over myself, so all that's poking through the opaque mask are my eyes.

I open the bathroom door. And gasp so hard that I start choking on my spit. "What the hell, Davis?"

He lowers the hand he had poised to knock. "That's not even my fault. It was just unlucky timing."

"Whatever." I say, very conscious of how crazy I must look to him right now with my green face. He doesn't say anything about it. "What do you need?"

"I made some breakfast. It's on the stove if you'd like some."

"Oh." I blink at him. That's not what I'm expecting. And then I remember that I'm supposed to be mad at him and I press my lips together. "I'm not really hungry."

He doesn't say anything. He only looks at me with a serious expression on his face, like he's trying to pick something apart. It's annoying.

"Lauren, I wanted to talk."

For some reason, my heart starts to race. I can't tell if it's from anger or something else, though.

"Well, I don't really want to talk to you, Davis."

I try to walk past him, but his hand catches my wrist and prevents me from leaving.

"Please."

The sincerity in his voice makes me pause, but I still wrench my hand from his grasp. "I don't know, Davis. I'm not really into one-sided relationships, even if we're blood related."

His brows knit together.

"One-sided? What are you talking about?"

I've said too much. I just keep my mouth shut and shake my head. He waits for longer than the moment deserves to see if I'll respond, but at last he runs a hand through his hair.

"I don't like you being mad at me."

His words make my heart clench, but I swallow it down.

"Maybe you should've thought about that instead of choosing not to say a word to me for the past week." I can feel my anger getting the best of me; I can't stop myself from letting the poisonous words spill out of my mouth. "Don't worry, I'm moving on so I'm not holding you back or anything."

"Moving on? Fuck's sake, Lauren, what are you talking about?"

"Can you just leave me alone?" I snap, and before he can say anything in response I go back into the bathroom and shut the door in his face.

I close my eyes against the tears that have welled up.

I've always been the type to cry when I get upset, and it seems nothing has changed. Even though my whole life has been turned upside-down in the past few weeks, I'm still here crying like a little girl.

I was going to keep my face mask on while I pick out my outfit for the night, but my mood is ruined. I need to distract myself from crying it all off, so instead I just start washing it off, watching the water run green as it gurgles down the drain.

When I get done and towel the water off my face, my eyes still feel hot and I'm still feeling upset.

The rational part of me knows that Davis didn't actually do anything to elicit that response from me. He'd simply asked to talk--and maybe he had a really good reason for ignoring me.

But still, there's the wounded part of me that can't admit that his silence has hurt me more than I should've given it the power to.

I was the one who chose him during the game. I was the one who pulled him back inside of me. He'd been reluctant through it all, and I'd forced him to do it. I was just silly enough to think that it'd changed anything between us.

At the end of the day, I'm still just the random half-sister of his that had to move in halfway through senior year and take attention away from him.

Either way, it was a mistake to get wrapped up in his business. I'll just keep my head down and find a way to enjoy myself independent of Davis. And then, once I graduate I can move far away.

I latch onto the thought and it makes me feel a bit better.

When I open the door and look down the hall, I'm relieved that he's not there. I guess he went back to his room, which I'm more than happy with as I go back to my room.

My anger is what fuels the outfit that I pick, a skirt shorter than I feel comfortable wearing and a frilly top that makes me feel pretty enough.

I hang them on the back of my chair, imagining how I'll wear them tonight. I have a few hours until James will pick me up, and I'm not exactly sure what I'll spend my time doing.

The need to distract myself is what has me reaching for my phone.

I swallow hard at what I see.

There's a little widget on the homescreen that's linked to my photos app, and it rotates through some random pictures. It came with my phone and I just never bothered to take it off. I'm not too big on pictures, anyways.

I click on the picture that it'd chosen to show me, tears making my vision blurry all over again.

I remember this day.

My mom was always a bit eccentric. I kept her grounded and she showed me how life could be amazing and colorful. When she started getting more and more ill, I saw that vibrancy fade from her, just a little bit at a time. But still, she found a way to be strong and pretend that everything was fine, even if it was solely for my sake.

She kept saying that she might not be around by the time I go to prom, so last year she took me dress shopping. My school's prom was limited to seniors only, so she made me rehearse talking about what college I'd be going to just in case any of the employees asked. And then we went.

She kept me laughing as I went in and out of the fitting rooms, and it'd been as fun as it'd been tiring. It was at the very last shop that we went to, when I tried on a white dress with golden beading along the bodice, that I saw the emotion on her face.

"You look beautiful, Lauren." She said, giving me a tearful smile.

"Don't cry, mom." I almost tripped over the hem as I rushed to sit down next to her. And then I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in her sweet perfume.

"I'm so proud of you, baby." One of her hands came up to pat my forearm, and I felt more than I heard her deep breath. "Seeing you in white just made me imagine you getting married one day."

"That's like, a million years away," I laughed, even though my heart squeezed at the mention.

"I wish I could see it."

That was all she said, and it broke my heart.

"You will." I said fiercely, squeezing her tight.

"You're right, I will," she smiled, but I could still hear the sadness in her voice. But she turned to me, sweeping my bangs out of my face and then putting her cold hands on my cheeks. "I'm not saying this because I'm going to die, okay? I just need you to keep it in mind before you bring a weird guy home."

"Okay, give me your wisdom." I didn't feel like it, but I grinned for her benefit.

"Just know what you're worth." She swept my bangs away again, her eyes trailing over my features like she wanted to memorize them. "I didn't do that with your father, and sometimes I think the stress of it all screwed me over more than I ever wanted to admit."

I swallowed at the lump of emotion that rose up my throat. "You didn't deserve any of it, mom."

She hesitated. And then put on a big smile. "I'm supposed to be the one giving advice! Don't go stealing my thunder. Now, I think this dress looks prettiest on you. How about a picture?"

We stood in front of the mirror, cheeks squished together and big smiles on our faces. The fluorescent lights made us look sickly and the grey of the stall did us no favors either, but this picture is still my favorite of me and my mom. Her health started to take a nose dive just a few months after that.

It kind of feels like a sick joke that this is what my phone is choosing to show me right now. Something about seeing it makes me lose control of all my emotions, and before I know it I'm sobbing into my pillow.

Seeing her health decline over time had helped me prepare a little bit for the loss, but there's still nothing that prepares you with the finality of losing someone. And not only that, but having to move in with dad was such a sudden change that even now, none of it feels real.

As silly as it sounds, what happened at the party and the small amount of connection I got to have with Davis was something that gave me a thread of hope, that being stuck in Texas wasn't the completely terrible thing that I felt that it was. So him choosing to ignore me feels way more cruel than it should be.

I'm crying so hard that I can hardly breathe properly, which is only made worse from how stuffed up my nose gets with snot. It mixes with my tears as I grip my pillow to my face in a huge wet spot. I don't care though, as all the emotions I've been hiding away surface at once in one wave.

I can only hope that the walls are thick enough to hide the sounds, because there's no stopping it from coming out of my mouth. I hate the thought that Davis can hear me crying, but there's no stopping it.

I cry until I can't anymore, my eyes completely raw and my face itching from my tears. My throat hurts, too, from my barely covered sobs, and I take a greedy gulp of water that fails to soothe it.

But I feel a lot better.

I won't ever get her back. And the my situation here still sucks ass.

But I force myself to focus on the positives, like the fact that at least for the weekend, my dad and Lindsay are gone. And, even if Davis has rejected me, I'm going on a date tonight.

I stare at the clothes hanging on my chair and think of mom.

If only you could see me now.

It's the only thought on my mind as I blow my nose and try to regain the ability to breathe. I think only time will fix that, though, and as I stumble to the bathroom to wash everything off of my face I'm still struggling to breathe properly.

I successfully distract myself from everything for the next couple hours, and before I know it it's almost time for James to pick me up. I check my reflection in the mirror one last time before I head out, and once I'm satisfied that nothing is out of place I go downstairs.

"Hey, are--"

Davis is sitting at the dining table, eating what looks like the breakfast I never ended up having. A minuscule part of me feels bad, but then I remind myself I never asked him to do that for me.

"Woah." He says.

I know a fierce blush rises on my cheeks from the way he's looking at me, and the fact that he's looking at me at all. And through it all, he seems uncertain, like he's not even sure whether he should be talking to me at all.

Yikes. I'm sure he did hear me crying, and that's on top of how I yelled at him in front of the bathroom.

"I'm going out." I announce, more out of obligation than anything else.

"You and Becky going clubbing or something?" He jokes, but when my expression doesn't change his face grows dark, like he realizes something. "You're going on a date."

"I won't be home too late." I say softly, his reaction catching me off guard. He shouldn't care what I do with my time.

"Moving on, huh." He says, shaking his head and glowering at his eggs.

The conversation is over. I should be relieved that I'm not obligated to be in conversation with him anymore.

But I just feel confused and my mood is sour as I walk out the door and make my way back to my pseudo house at the end of the street.

Luckily, I make it there just in time. Not even a minute passes before a red truck pulls in and James rolls down the window and waves. "Lauren! Get in!"

"Hey James!" I try my best to be bright and cheery, but after everything I'm feeling drained.

"Everything alright?" He says, peering at me as I fasten my seatbelt.

I shrug. "I'd honestly rather not talk about it. Just... had a hell of a day."

"No kidding?" He eyes my bare legs as he pulls out of the driveway. It makes me nervous how obviously distracted he is, but I don't mind the attention. "You want to talk about it?"

Not with you.

The rude thought comes up before I can stop it, but as I think on it I know it's true. There's still what Becky said about James, but also... the stuff between me and Davis, I need to address directly with him.

"No, I'd honestly just love to have a good time tonight." I offer James a smile that feels more real than I thought I was capable of doing.

"Oh, we'll have a great time tonight. I can't believe you haven't had St. Bovine's yet. They're a staple here."

"Yeah?" I laugh. "I had to look it up after you mentioned it. The name sounds fake."

"No, it's very, very real. And it's right next to the middle school, so once all the kids start getting pocket money they know exactly what they're spending it on."

I'm glad that James is a much better driver than Becky is. We coast through the highway smoothly, and for the first time I admire how different the horizon looks here. The air is so... yellow.

"It must've been nice growing up with everyone," I say, and there's a hint of wistfulness there as I look at the cars driving along in the lanes next to ours. "Becky said the two of you have been friends for a long time."

"Oh yeah, I got to see Becks go through puberty and shit. You know she was the last girl to get her growth spurt? She was the shortest one for the longest time, and now she towers over everyone." James laughs as he talks, and I see the shadow of his dimple standing out against the bright sunlight streaming down on his face.

It struck me the first time I saw him how pretty he is, and I'm reminded of it as he keeps talking, giving random stories about his childhood.

I feel my tension melting away, and soon enough I'm laughing along with him.

"Just up here." He interrupts story time, pointing to a huge sign with a drawing of a priestly cow. We take the exit off the highway.

"That has got to be offensive on so many levels." I say in awe.

"They haven't been shut down, yet," James says happily. "I think the whole town might riot."

I shake my head as he turns off the engine and hops out of the car. Before I know it he's opening the passenger door and offering to help me hop down.

I let him.

His hand is warm under mine, and when my feet touch the ground he doesn't immediately let go of my hand.

I awkwardly pull it from his grasp, clearing my throat and walking past him. "So, what's good here?"

He easily catches up to me, and when I sneak a glance at him he's staring at me with amusement. "Honestly anything. Only thing I can't recommend is the onion rings, but the only reason why is cuz everything else is so much better."

"James, this can't be real." I whisper to him, and he laughs at my amazement. The menu all follows the theme, and as we go through the quickly moving line I settle on getting the Holy Cow, which I relay to James with a giggle. When we get to the cashier he orders for us, and then we stand on the side to wait.

There aren't very many people who are eating here. Actually, there are only a couple of tables in here at all.

He notices me looking and leans over to whisper. "Most people get it to go. I was actually thinking we could do that, have a mini picnic."

"A picnic sounds fun," I say, unable to hide my surprise. He hardly seems the type to do something so romantic. It feels pretty opposite of what I've been told about him, at the least.

"Yeah. A few miles out past the city border where there are ranches and stuff, it's really quiet. And if you're there around sunset? Whew." He grins then as our order is called, presented in a white grease-soaked paper bag. "Only thing is sometimes you get a whiff of the cows. But I'm sure you're used to ignoring bad smells over in New York."

I bite my lip. "Something like that."

We head back out to the truck, and when we climb in I start to smell the burgers.

"It smells so good."

"Ridiculously good, right?" He agrees as we head over to wherever we're going.

He doesn't put on the navigation and briefly I have to wonder how he knows where he's going. He must go out this way a lot, and I'm not sure what to make of that information as we pass through narrow winding roads. Either he's just that familiar with where he grew up--which feels fairly normal--or he makes it a habit to bring his dates to the middle of nowhere.

I have to bite my lip again to stop my nervous smile. Unfortunately, James notices it.

"What're you laughing about?"

The wind coming through the window ruffles his hair, making his brown hair turn golden and making him look even more boyish. His left arm rests on the door and his right hand sits lazily at the top of the steering wheel. He looks so worry-free and relaxed in the moment that it's kind of contagious.

"Thanks for the food."

That's all I say, and maybe he's in a gracious mood because he doesn't pester me about it.

"Of course." He says, keeping his eyes on the road. "Although, since I'm a gentleman, I'll let you pay next time. 'Kay?"

The moment has made me feel a bit more introspective, and I find that I can't just mirror his flirtation. So instead I just give him a tight smile. "We'll see."

"You drive a hard bargain. I guess I'll just have to pay for the next time, too."

"That's not what I meant." I laugh, and he seems satisfied, like that's exactly what he wanted.

"I hope you're not hinting that you don't like me, after all. You wouldn't be the first girl to use me for a bite of St. Bovine's, anyhow." He sighs dramatically, earning another smile from me.

"So do you take all your dates to St. Bovine's?" As it's leaving my mouth I recognize it's too close to what I was wondering earlier.

Luckily, he takes it in stride. "To Bovine's, yes. But out by the ranches? Only pretty ones from outta town."

I don't answer, looking out the window to see the dusty horizon. I should be grateful he wasn't offended by what I asked or anything of the sort. He'd turned a semi-awkward question into a joke wrapped up in more flirtation, but for some reason it still bothers me. I'm not sure whether I'd feel better were he to answer it seriously, though.

"This is a good spot." He says after some time.

"It looks like the last ten miles."

"Does not! Just trust a local's sense of geography."

He rolls up the windows and blasts the air conditioning, and even though we're kind of sitting under the sun its rays just feel pleasantly warm on my skin. It feels weird to sit in a car with the engine running, but I find that there's a certain fun to this.

He rummages through the bag and hands me a burger wrapped in silver foil. I don't even remember what he got, but his is wrapped in gold. Between us on the bench seat we set the couple orders of fries we got, thick and crispy potatoes shoved in between thin paper inserts practically dripping with grease.

"Cheers." Once we unwrap our burgers he holds his out to me and I tap it with mine.

"Cheers."

I can't help the appreciative "Mmm." that leave my mouth when I take a bite. They're smash burgers, with thin patties with crisp edges sitting underneath a melty layer of cheese. It is absolutely sinful, though, and even as I swallow down my first bite I feel how rich it is.

"Good, right?" He says through a full mouth, and I take my sweet time licking the oil off my lips before answering.

"This makes Texas feel tolerable." I take another bite, experiencing it all over again.

James laughs. "This is? Not even the people you've met or anything else?"

My mind is screaming at me not to engage with this line of conversation, that my heart isn't ready for it. So I shrug. "What can I say? This cow is too holy."

He shakes his head and then makes me try the fries, which are just as delectable.

Halfway through my burger I groan, putting it down in my lap. "I'm going to regret having this later, aren't I?"

"Yeah." He's almost done with his burger. "But you also won't. Because how can you regret something that tastes this good?"

"I'm sure it might find a way to make me pay," I look down at the bun, squished with imprints of my fingers on either side. My fingers themselves are shiny. "You know I'm lactose intolerant?"

"I could've asked them to take the cheese off for you. Should've said something." He says, but I just shake my head.

"You can rip my cheese from my cold, dead hands." He laughs for my benefit, and I sigh. "I guess I'm just great at making terrible decisions that I might regret later."

"Really?" He's just swallowed down the last of his burger and wipes his fingers on napkins. It's fruitless, because as soon as he gets done he's back to dirtying his fingers with the fries between us. "You haven't really struck me as the impulsive type, though."

I'm silent as I work on my burger.

"I'm not." I admit at last. "I'm usually the most risk-adverse person you'll meet. But I don't know, lately it feels like there's a wild side to me that keeps trying to take over."

"A wild side, eh?" He waggles his eyebrows.

"Not like that," I laugh. As I think about it, the smile on my face falters. "More like after I had to move here, I just don't feel like myself. Like I'm making decisions without thinking about them, consequences be damned. You know?"

"Oh, yeah. Becky mentioned that stuff to me. The reason why you came here in the first place. But living like that isn't always a bad thing, no?"

"Isn't it?" I say without thinking, my eyes trained on the low shapes of mountains beyond the distance.

"Sometimes you just need a distraction." He says.

I don't know what he's saying and nearly don't pay it any mind. At least I didn't, until his hand settles on top of mine. I look down at it, where there's a scab along one of his knuckles, but don't take my hand out from underneath his.

Neither of us say anything.

Maybe I just don't have the guts to, and maybe for James that just means I'm accepting his offer to be a distraction.

The sun is starting to set, and James was absolutely right. It's breathtaking.

He's parked facing the sunset, so half of the sky behind us is still its pale dusty blue. Along the horizon it's starting to split into a brilliant orange, bright yellow painted across the underside of the sparse clouds that hang in the sky.

"It really is beautiful." I breathe. James's fingers twitch on top of mine.

"It is."

I turn to look at him and am surprised to see that he's looking straight at me. There's desire in his eyes and I have to swallow down the nerves that bubble up in my chest.

Part of me knows that this is just about the cheesiest thing he could ever have said to me, but it still makes my heart race.

"James..." I whisper, feeling locked in place by how he's looking at me.

He picks up the fries and puts them on the dash. My heart is so pathetically responding to his proximity, and it only gets worse when he shifts across the seat, moving into the middle so he's right next to me. Our thighs are touching, my bare leg against the rough seam of his denim.

"Just getting comfortable." He shoots me a teasing smile. "You're not gonna eat?"

I look down at the burger sitting in my lap, nearly three quarters gone. "I'm kind of full," I admit, though I have to admit that partly, my appetite is gone from the fluttering inside my stomach.

"Hm." I watch as he plucks it from my lap and puts it, nestled in its wrapper, on the dash next to the fries. As I turn back to him so I can ask what he's doing, James puts his arm around my shoulder.

Just like at the party, when I look at him our faces are close together.

This time, I don't have alcohol to dull my awkwardness.

This time, he closes that small gap between us.

It's a small and tentative kiss, one that feels over before it gets to start. When he breaks away and moves half a millimeter away from me, a few seconds pass where we both stop as if both waiting to see what the other will do.

It's the impulsive part of me, the part that's in charge of making decisions without thinking about them, that closes the gap between us.

Just like that, the kiss goes from gentle to frantic. One of his hands are on my waist and he pulls me into him, the soft lines of my body filling in the spaces between his more rigid one. I have a hand against his chest, the other one on his thigh like that'll give me any stability from the way our mouths are moving together.

I let him push me backwards, his knees descending on either side of my legs as he keeps his mouth pasted to mine. The air from our noses mingles between our faces and it feels oddly intimate as his tongue dips into my mouth. It's a shallow and passing movement and before I can help it a whimper gets caught in my throat.

He rearranges our legs as we kiss, his right knee going from being against the backs of the seats to between my legs--and then I'm moaning out loud, my fingers tightening against him as he brings his knee up into my crotch, applying pressure in a way that sends a jolt of excitement running through me.

My skirt's useless now, bunched up around my waist with my panties fully on display. I hadn't really thought that things would be going this direction while I was getting ready. At the least, I guess I just hadn't consciously thought of it. I thank the stars that I chose to wear my cute lacy thong solely because it wouldn't show underwear lines under the thin fabric of my skirt.

James breaks away from me. My body feels warm and my face feels flushed as he runs his eyes along my body, my shoulders and legs bare, my thong completely on display to him as my chest heaves with the force of my panting.

"Do you." He says after a while, having to stop so he can swallow. "Want to do it?"

There's a part of me that thinks the answer should be no, but that part of me is dead right now. In its place is the wild version of me, half-broken from all that's happened in the past few weeks.

"Do you have a condom?" I say at last, my voice coming out thick.

He rummages around and picks up a foil packet. "Had 'em just in case."

Funnily enough, that half-broken version of me conjures up an image of what happened last week, when James was downstairs and in his place was Davis. I think of how when I pulled Davis by the hair between my legs, he'd lapped at my slit with unrivaled enthusiasm, licking me until I was driven past the edge and I came on those lips that had brought me so much pleasure.

It doesn't seem like James has any of those same intentions, though, because he's already ripped open the packet and rolled it onto his dick.

I never did get a good look at what's between his legs, and for some reason my curiosity has me staring at it.

This will be my second ever cock, the first being my half-brother's. And due to the circumstances of how everything happened last week, it wasn't like I ever had a chance to examine what they look like in person.

I want to reach out, run my hands along it, recognize the organ and all of its curiosities--but something tells me this isn't the right time, either, because James is already pulling one of my legs over his shoulders and lining himself up.

Fear grips me, icy and rude.

"Wait!" I cry out, and I can tell that it takes a great deal of self-control for James to stop and look down at me. Even though I haven't had anything to drink this time, I almost feel a little drunk from the moment as I struggle to get my words out properly. "I haven't... done it, much, before. Can you go slow?"

I can't tell him that this is the first time I'm completely consensually having sex, this time divorced from peer pressure and alcohol.

The lust in his eyes fade just enough for him to give me a terse nod and realign our hips.

"I'll go slow," he says, his eyes gaining a glazed look as he presses his tip against my entrance. I can tell that I've already gotten wet between the legs, because when he lightly rubs himself up and down my hole, the latex easily slips through my slickness.

And then I'm gritting my teeth against the foreign nearly uncomfortable feeling of him pushing his cock into me.

He goes so slow it's devastating, and as the tip spreads me open I have to regret what I asked of him. I think that the pace makes it feel thicker, this thing stretching my passage to accommodate its girth. His hardness is relentless as it pushes into me, and my body has no choice but to warmly embrace him.

It feels like it takes forever for him to go all the way in, and after our pelvises meet he lets out a shuddering breath.

Over the next few seconds I feel my muscle start to relax, my pussy realizing that this invader is here to stay and giving it even more room to ravage me.

And that's exactly what he does.

James thrusts into me quickly, his hips making short and jerky movements that drive his cock into my depths in stabs. His hands support the weight of his upper body from where they've been driven into the seat, right next to my sides. I wrap my hands around his biceps, feeling them flex from how he's moving inside me.

It makes me close my eyes, shallow breaths being dragged out of me, my torso a little squished from the way my one leg is hanging off of his shoulder. I can't tell whether it's pleasurable or not, and I'm still mostly grappling with trying to get used to something stretching me open.

In some ways this feels like my experience last week, where we've skipped lovemaking and gone straight to fucking.

But then again, the alcohol had helped loosen my inhibition then. Now, I'm facing this completely sober, with all the uncertainties of losing your virginity, even if I technically wasn't a virgin even when James first started entering me. Either way, it's keeping me from doing anything but hold onto him to try to stabilize my body's movements while he thrusts into me.

And then, I start to feel it.

I close my eyes, concentrating on the spark that just shot up my spine.

That's not a good way to describe it. It's more like a dull pang inside me, a part of me growing satisfied from being stuffed like this. When his cock pushes against some part of my insides, it feels really good. It's the same pleasure I started to experience while sitting on Davis for my dare, only this time it's coupled with a steady repeated movement--even if the angle isn't quite what I want.

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the sensation wash over me. Every stroke yields this pleasure, and as James continues to thrust into me I realize I'm starting to make desperate sounds that reflect the passion growing in my body.

"It feels good." I gasp, finally opening my eyes to see James as he drives his hips into me.

That's one part that I never considered before last week, which is how just the visual of seeing a man between my legs is enough to set my blood on fire. For some reason it's such a delicious sight, to be half-pinned down by the masculine weight of someone who can wrench this wretched pleasure from my body.

It's like he heard my thoughts, because suddenly he's pulling out of me with a groan.

"Can you turn around? Do it from the back?"

The sun has nearly set now, and I realize he probably can't even see my face as I blush. I might not be experienced, but I'm not so clueless that I don't know that he's asking to do it doggy style. I frantically question the mechanics as I force myself to move, my legs shaking as I maneuver myself onto my hands and knees.

I can only imagine how I look right now, my skirt still completely around my waist as I bend over for him. I rearrange my hair so it's to one side, turning the other way to look at James.

"Like this?" I say, and even I hear how uncertain I sound.

"Perfect." He praises me, and as he starts to get into position I let the warmth of his words touch me.

I'm about to be fucked from the back, his hands using my hips as handles as he pushes and pulls me onto his cock--

For some reason this position feels so much dirtier than before, and my brain is racing as I wait for the feeling of his hardness plunging into me once again.

But when it finally comes, a moan leaves my mouth.

God.

It feels so much better than before, his cock warm and smooth and slick against the wetness that my body has kept producing.

I cry out with pleasure, my body tracking with the force of his thrusts. I can feel how my boobs are moving from the back and forth movement, the fat of my ass shaking as his hips slam into me from behind, and I'm nearly clawing at the seats underneath me to try to find something to grip onto.

The stimulation inside me is different, too. He's so much deeper, hitting parts of me that make me feel almost numb and unable to do anything but just lay there and take it.

And above it all is the feeling of how hot his rigid flesh is, pushing me open over and over again, even as my pussy fights to tighten back into itself. Even so, there's no stopping it as this stiff cock ravages me, easily slipping back into me with the help of my own wetness.

"You're so tight." I hear James grunt out between thrusts, and even those words add to my pleasure. They're like a reminder of what he's doing to me, how he's enjoying my silken embrace, and oddly I like that he feels this way.

But I collapse onto the seat, my elbows sinking into it. I can't hold myself up anymore, certainly not against the sensations that are being elicited in me, the dragging of his cock along my passage. His hands are on my hips, his grip so tight that I think I can pick out each finger that's touching me.

"I'm getting close," he breathes, I moan again.

I liked when Davis had pulled out and cum on my front, like evidence of what my body was capable of doing to him. Despite myself, I wish that James could pull off the condom and cum on my back--I think I'd like that equally as much.

"Fuck." He pants, his pace getting quicker still. And then he's completely pressed into me, his whole body tense.

I suppose there's something special about him cumming into the condom, too.

But then I feel wetness flood me, its heat searing my battered insides. I gasp, trying to twist away, but James is halfway on top of me and I can't move as it spurts into me.

He's cumming in me and I can't do anything to stop it.

I'm panting, breathing in an almost hysterical fashion as I wait for him to finish.

At last he does, a contented sigh leaving his mouth as he removes himself. His cock pops out of me.

"James," my voice trembles from my moans and my panic. I turn around, clenching my pussy because I don't know what else to do. "Did you just cum inside me?"

"The condom fell off." He says, still breathing hard. He pulls me into an embrace and I remain still, mostly because I'm too afraid to even move. "I'm sorry, I was too in the moment to do anything about it."

I feel like he expects me to tell him that it's okay, maybe that I'm on birth control or anything, but shock has my mouth remaining closed. What's worse is that he follows it up with, "I hope that's okay, Lauren."

He puts his lips against my temple, but I'm beyond the point of feeling warm from his touch.

Fuck. I don't know what to do.

"Can you take me home?" That's the only thing I can think to say, because if I try to say anything else I might burst into tears.

"Y-yeah, of course."

Neither of us move, and for a few seconds the only sound is the airflow from the vents, because we never even did turn off the AC.

And then James is buttoning himself back up and putting the car into drive.

He seems content enough not to talk on the way back, and I'm more so frozen in place. It feels like no time passes at all before he's pulling into the only part of Texas that I'm familiar enough with, which is somewhere between school and my dad's house.

And then he's pulling into the neighborhood and stopping right in front of the house.

"Looks like your folks are up waiting for you," he says, looking up at where one of the rooms where the lights are on. He gives me a big smile, one that at some point would've made me feel so warm inside. "I really had a good time, today. Let's do it again, sometime."

"I, uh--" I can't think of what to say. My only thought is that I regret choosing a house so far away. Will cum be leaking out of me and getting all inside my panties while I walk the couple blocks back to dad's house? "Have a good night, James."

I give him half a wave as I open the door and slide down to the ground as slowly as I can. I don't feel equipped to hold myself up, with how weak my legs still feel.

"Bye Lauren!" He says, and I nod as I shut the door and watch him leave.

I wrap my arms around myself, the night air feeling much too cold for a Texan evening, and then walk back home.

As I walk I rearrange my clothes, somewhat uselessly. Because who's looking at me now? Maybe it's just my pride that has me smoothing down the hem of my skirt, hoping that the cum I feel leaking out of me won't be more than the delicate lace of my panties can handle.

I'm relieved when I finally reach home and turn my key in the lock.

The truth slams into me as I push the door open.

I'm not on birth control.

I'm not on birth control and James came in me.

I had my period on Monday, so at any point I can get pregnant.

Fuck.

For the second time today I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I waddle up the stairs, trying not to let the movement make James's seed stream down the insides of my legs.

I guess it's not that late, since Davis's light is still on.

I gingerly shut the bathroom door and sit on the toilet to pee. I wipe at the insides of my legs and take off my underwear, both of which have already been stained by watery cream. I can feel clumps of semen falling out of me as I pee, and I shake as I wipe myself and stand up.

I feel a bit mechanical as I go through the motions, like someone with more brain cells than me is telling me which actions to take. That carries me through to washing my hands, filling the basin with water and then putting my ruined thong in it, and then for some reason knocking on Davis's door.

He opens it almost immediately, his expression immediately turning to concern.

I saw myself in the bathroom mirror and know what I look like.

My hair is still messed up and even now my cheeks have remained red. Somehow, after everything that happened, my outfit looks even more skimpy. But the voice that was telling me what to do had neglected to have me go change first, so now I'm in front of Davis wearing the date clothes I got fucked by James in.

"What..."

I need to tell him I need to go to the store. I need to ask him to take me to get some Plan B.

But all that comes out is a strangled sob as all the numb tension of my body releases itself at once. Right before my vision goes completely blurry, I see his concern give way to alarm.

I stand there in front of his doorway, not daring to take a step inside nor move at all. Instead, I just stay there, pressing my balled up fists to my eyes as I break down in front of Davis.

After a moment, I feel a pair of arms enclose around me.

"Hey." He says, and it sounds so mild and caring, like he's speaking to a child. I'm too distraught to respond to him, though, and just remain crying. He pats my back, says some soothing things to me that my ears don't even care to listen to, and then eventually starts trying to lead me to sit somewhere.

"No," I say through sobs. I can't even speak properly. "I n-need to go... please t-take me t-to the store."

"What?" He asks, sounding completely confused.

"The store." I nearly yell, my emotions running so high that I can't even fucking speak properly.

"Shit, okay. Do you want to change, or..."

I'm not even trying to stem the flow of tears streaming down my face anymore. I nod.

"Alright." He grabs his keys from his desk and grabs me by the hand, leading me to my room.

I feel like a child, but I'm not in any state to complain about it. I open the door and go in, not bothering to close it behind me as I strip off my clothes and throw them in a pile. I take off my bra, too, because even though it did no wrong it was there in the situation, as complicit as I was. It's my fear of more cum streaming out of me that has me putting on a fresh pair of underwear. I don't bother with a bra and just put on a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

When I turn to the door, using my sleeve to wipe at my face, I notice that Davis was staring at my wooden movements. There's a mix of concern and something else written plainly on his face, but I don't have it in me to try to explain anything.

He walks slowly enough for me to follow, turning on the engine as I sit in the passenger's side and strap on my seatbelt. And when we get on the road it feels like he's driving slowly for my benefit, like he's too scared of going the speed limit for fear it'll make me freak out.

"Lauren," he says, his voice taut. "Can you tell me something?"

I'm still sniffling, still a mess, but somehow through it I manage to let something past my lips. "I went on a date." Somehow those words are enough to set me off again, a fresh wave of tears rolling down my cheeks.

And somehow, those words are enough to make Davis piece it together.

"You went out with James."

I don't answer, pressing my sleeve-covered fists to my mouth.

"Fuck, Lauren. I warned you against him, I--" He stops himself from going on, unhappiness plainly written on his face. And then as I come undone in the passenger's seat he tries again, forcing a gentle tone that's barely convincing. "You need to get a morning after pill? That's what we're going to the store for?"

I look at him blankly, my eyes aching as they continue to stream tears. "How... d'you know?"

He's silent for a long while, his eyes running across the road as he signals and makes a turn. He sneaks a glance at me, his eyes as serious as ever. "I literally told you he's stealthed girls before."

Davis had said that at the party. I didn't know what it meant and had promptly forgotten about it.

"I didn't know..." I trail off, unable to finish what I was going to say. I don't even know what I want to say. I don't think there's anything that will make me feel better or even help the situation. So I just shake my head and whisper, "Sorry."

I think I'm sorry for dragging him into this, for making him be my emotional sponge as he shuttles me to the store so I can get my stupid pill.

"Don't." He says tightly.

I flinch when he brings his hand down hard on the steering wheel, the sound ringing loudly in the small space inside the car. "Fuck, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

I can't bring myself to tell Davis he's scaring me, but it seems he's hypercognizant of me. He immediately casts a look at me and takes a deep breath. I see it in his eyes; he wants to say something more, but is actively holding back against it.

He turns us into the parking lot. It's not that late so there are still a lot of people milling about with full carts of groceries. My stomach sinks.

"I'll be back." I say, undoing my seatbelt.

"Are you insane?" He says to me incredulously, and before I can blink he's halfway out the car. "Stay."

I watch him walk to the entrance with hands shoved in his pockets. He's obviously still angry or at least has a lot of things unsaid towards me. I'm thankful he's choosing to be gentle, but the more self-punishing part of me is disappointed. I know I deserve to be yelled at and told off for my stupidity.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest.

My body is still in a weird fight-or-flight mode, with my heart racing and clenching all at once. I think it's the shock that's keeping me from ruminating on what just happened, because after what feels like only a couple minutes Davis returns with a small box in one hand, a can in the other.

I watch blankly as he opens the box and takes out the little pill for me, making me take it. And then he opens the can and hands it to me--somehow he remembered that I like cream soda.

"To wash it down," he says. I'm thankful that Davis has replaced the voice in my head because now I get to listen to him as I toss it in my mouth and then wash it down with the cream soda. What would usually taste so sweet and refreshing to me feels disappointing.

I need to say something, though, and at least I'm no longer weeping like before.

"Thank you, Davis."

He takes another deep breath, putting the box he ripped open in one of the cupholders, and then turns on the car. "Yeah."

The drive back is silent, but I feel just a little bit better about the situation than I did on the way here. At least I did something to fix the situation, or at least Davis did it for me. Now, all that's left is my self-hatred and having so slog through coming to terms with what'd actually happened.

We're almost back to the house when Davis speaks again.

"Lauren."

I turn to him. "Yeah?"

The silence that follows is so long that I'm about to open my mouth and say something again, but then he speaks. "Are you okay?"

The simple question throws me for a loop, confronts me with what he must be seeing.

He tried to talk to me about something this morning, which I made very clear I had no interest in hearing. Then I cried for hours in my room. And then I left the house, went on a date with a guy he'd very clearly told me was suspect, and then came back sobbing because I'd gotten 'stealthed' or whatever it was.

It's a wonder he's helping me at all.

"Not really." I say, my voice sounding dry and small. "But I feel better. Because of you. So thanks."

His eyes flick towards me and he sounds tired. "Anytime."

I feel completely numb when we make it back inside. He lets me go up the stairs first, but at the top of the steps he stops me with a hand around my wrist.

"Are you going to sleep now?"

I look blankly at how he's holding me.

"Probably."

He looks between me and each of our rooms. "Don't sleep alone tonight. Let me be with you."

I stare at him, his coarse curls, those neat brows that are pushed together in worry over me, slightly dry lips that are pursed. I think at one point I would've said no, told him off for some reason, but I can't seem to remember what that reason is.

I twist my hand out of his grasp and then place it in his so we're holding hands like earlier when he led me to my room.

"Your room." I say quietly, and am met with his decisive steps forward.

I think that my body is starting to shut down after all the adrenaline of my wearying day, and each step towards his room feels impossible. I'm glad his hand is still wrapped around mine, giving me something to anchor myself to as he nearly pulls me down the hall and through the doorway.

"Get in bed."

I do as he says, climbing in and pulling his covers up to my chin. We use the same detergent but somehow his sheets smell like him, warm with a hint of citrus. I breathe it in, letting the scent soothe me as he pulls his shirt off.

I feel how I'm about to pass out, my exhaustion overtaking me. I barely recognize the lights going out, a pair of arms wrapping around me, and a kiss pressed against my temple, because I'm already claimed by darkness.

-

The second worst moment after first going through something traumatic is waking up the next morning. I went through it when mom died, and I go through it all over again today when my eyes flutter open and I'm in Davis's bed.

He's spooning me, his arm drawn tight around my shoulders and our legs tangled together. I feel his slow breaths tickling the back of my neck, his warmth covering me.

I turn to look at him. I wasn't expecting to see him shirtless but here he is. Even though it looks like he hasn't had a blanket over him all night he's still warm against my back.

My first thought was that I got drunk and slept with him again. But then I'm remembering why exactly my eyes feel so swollen and sore, why my mood still feels so off.

I close my eyes as a yawn rips out of my mouth, and bury my face in the sleeves of my sweatshirt. In some ways it would've been so much easier if the only thing that'd happened was that I slept with my half-brother. But no, I had to do things the hard way, apparently, and find a way to quite literally get fucked over.

Davis smacks his lips in his sleep and I look at his relaxed face with a softening heart. He hadn't needed to do the things he did. Especially after how I told him to get lost in the morning, I wouldn't have blamed him for just ignoring me.

He wakes up as I push his arm off of me.

"I have to pee." I say to him, and he immediately rolls over, giving me the space to crawl around his legs and go out the door.

It's as I finish everything up and start brushing my teeth that the door pushes open.

"Morning." His voice is rough and I have to keep my face still because he looks heartbreakingly adorable with his cheek creased and eyes half-closed from sleepiness.

"Good morning." I say through my toothbrush, but don't say much else. I'm a bit nervous for what our dynamic will look like after yesterday.

He doesn't seem to share that concern, though, pushing the door open and grabbing his own toothbrush.

It feels oddly nice to wash up side by side, the both of us paying attention to our own tasks wordlessly. He waits for me to get done washing my face for him to use the sink, and he rubs suds into his skin as I put on my skincare.

"Are you doing anything today?" I break the silence.

He puts the towel down, droplets of water still running down the sides of his face. "Not really. You?"

"No."

"We still have the fifty bucks Dad left for pizza. Wanna do that?"

"Fifty?" I raise my eyebrows. "How much does he think we're going to eat?"

Davis smirks. "He's never been the best with money."

"I wouldn't know," I shrug, turning away from him to finish putting on lotion. I see Davis's expression change in the mirror, becoming careful.

"I didn't know. That you wouldn't know, that is."

I turn to him. "Huh?"

"That's what I was trying to talk to you about yesterday morning." He looks unhappy. "I don't want to force the conversation if you don't want to listen, but. I've been turning it over in my head ever since I found out about you."

"Found out about me? What do you mean?" I ignore what he says about yesterday morning. After everything else that happened, I'm not upset with him enough to cut him off.

"Well, first off. Maybe we shouldn't have this conversation in the bathroom." My heart races as he takes a step towards me, reaching behind me to put down what he was holding. "And second, I'm sorry."

"You're not making any sense," I say, my voice coming out in a rush of air as he steps away from me. For some reason, there's a sliver of disappointment that uncoils in my gut.

He doesn't answer as he walks us back to his room, where I climb onto the bed and he sits at his desk, spinning in his chair so he's facing me.

"For the longest time I regretted what we did. What happened. At the party, I mean." My face flushes at the mention but he's not looking at me as he says it. "I feel bad how I ignored you since. I didn't have it in me to do anything else."

"Why's that?" I whisper, and his eyes swivel towards me.

"Lauren, I didn't know you existed until your mom passed." My heart jolts, and he gives a big exhale. His chair creaks as he leans back. "I don't know why they didn't think it was important enough to tell me that I have a sister out there in the world, but it was only when dad found out you might need to come live with us that he said anything at all."

"That's pathetic." I clench my hands in my lap, my nails biting into my palms.

It hurts, too, knowing that dad isn't even proud enough to talk about me. He must've loved pretending like I don't exist.

"It is." Davis says, and the calm in his eyes makes me feel better, like it's already condemning our dad. "Honestly, I don't think the reason why he said nothing is even anything to do with you. Him and my mom, they wanted to pretend like they hadn't done what they'd done. I think he only realized then that he couldn't keep everything hidden forever, so once he figured out that you might be moving in, the two of them told me over taco Tuesday.

"So that's when I found out that he was cheating on your mom with mine, taking extra business trips to spend time with her. Got her knocked up just a few months before doing the same with his wife in New York--and somehow my mom is okay with what's happening and keeping the baby, knowing full well there's a woman out there who--" He cuts himself off, giving another sigh.

"When you assume you were born out of a happy and normal marriage, it doesn't even cross your mind you're a product of like, cheating and lying. The fact that my mom was happy to take him after the divorce is something I can't understand, either."

I never considered that Davis could've been a victim of everything, at least not like this. He had barely said two words to me the whole first week, and he'd obviously been upset whenever he did have to interact with me. I didn't think that it'd been because of this, though. I'd just thought he hated me for coming in and ruining his happy little family, or even just hated my existence.

Maybe he hated his own, instead.

He turns towards me, the hint of anger in his face dissolving away.

"When we picked you up at the airport, I didn't expect--" His voice drops, and I try my best to keep still in the silence that follows. "You're pretty."

"What?" His shy words make a smile rise on my face. But he's shaking his head, changing the subject.

"At the party..." He swallows. "I didn't want to get in the way of you having fun, or anything. But I'd just feel like an even shittier brother if anything happened to you. I didn't think that things would happen how they did, or--"

"I'm not mad about it," I say to him, rearranging his blankets so they sit tighter on my lap. "Really."

"I was mad at myself." He turns away. "It was a party full of people I knew, and even if my mom forced me to take you I felt responsible. But things just escalated and you were drunk out of your mind and then suddenly I was..."

I know we're both reliving the memory of us fucking. He clears his throat.

"Davis, what I said at the end wasn't from the alcohol. I mean, I was drunk. But I wanted you to come see me. I waited every single night. That was the part that pissed me off. There was no reason for you to go back to ignoring me the way you did."

He's quiet for a long time.

"Yeah." He says. "I was kind of figuring out how I felt."

"And have you? Figured it out?" He was the one, after all, who'd come to me yesterday, tried to talk to me.

"Yeah, I have." He almost looks a bit sad. "I can't stop thinking about you."

I feel like I can't breathe from the fluttering in my stomach.

"I know I'm not supposed to because we're related, but... fuck, Lauren."

He chuckles.

"Living with you is driving me crazy."

My heart skips a beat.

"I was miserable after you said what you did about getting over me. And then I heard you crying in your room for so long and I was too scared to ask if you were okay. Then when you went out, I was miserable because I just felt like I completely fucked everything up.

"I was planning on telling you all this yesterday until you came home the way you did. And now that I have the chance, I just need to..."

Another sigh.

"I just like you."

What I said to him a week ago came purely out of lust and how I was physically attracted to him. I hadn't thought that he might have been thinking about something so much deeper.

I know this is completely the wrong thing to say, that it doesn't even really reflect my own feelings, but it leaves me anyways. "You hardly know me, Davis."

"Not to rub it in, but I think I know you better than James does." Ouch.

He gives a self-conscious smile as he pivots. "Ever since you moved in, I haven't been able to stop paying attention to you. I like how you hum the harmonies when you listen to music while studying. I like how even though you're right-handed, you only ever use mugs with the handle facing to the left. And I think it's cute how whenever you're nervous your bottom lip tenses up."

I swallow, and his eyes flick to my lips.

"Just like that."

His whisper settles in between us, and I know I need to say something. But I'm feeling more than a little overwhelmed with everything he's said, and unsure too about how to respond to it.

The truth is that he's so pretty that I've stolen my fair share of glances at him across the dinner table. And maybe I haven't noticed every detail about him like he has for me, but I like the kind of person he is and how he's been worrying over me, caring for me. Even while going through a literal existential crisis.

At this point all the anger that had built up inside me has dissolved, leaving in its place an odd mixture of disappointment and guilt. Disappointment for how he'd ignored me the whole past week, and guilt for being disappointed over something like that.

"I still wanted you to come to me." I whisper, a little petulantly.

"If that's all you want from me, I'm not happy doing it." He says, and seems disappointed.

He thinks I just want to fuck.

"No, I--I just thought you hated me this entire time." I sigh, looking away from him. "It just sucked, okay?"

"I really am sorry."

I stare at Davis, the earnestness in his eyes. He's only ever felt dark and brooding since I got here, but now there's a softness to him that I like seeing. And it makes things fall into place.

"I--" My voice is dry, my eyes flicking back up to his. "Becky asked me why I chose you for my dare. I told her I didn't really know. But I think..."

He stares at me, waiting for me to go on. It takes me a while to work up the courage to do so.

At last, I stand up.

"I like how safe I feel with you."

I step over to him.

"I like how steady you feel."

A hand comes up around my waist as I sit down in his lap, my legs to one side.

"And just how ready you are to hold me."

We're staring into each other's eyes. My heart is going to explode.

I force myself to whisper the words.

"And for some reason, I can't stop thinking about being with you."

Our lips meet.

I don't know if I'm the one who kissed him or he's the one who kissed me, but either way it's slow and unhurried, and my body is in stasis as I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. The arm around me is steadying, keeping me pressed to his chest, and his other hand nestles underneath my ear.

All I know is Davis, the hint of toothpaste in his mouth as our lips slide together. His mouth is soft and warm and his lips slide over mine in a soft rhythm. He's patient, going so slow that it steals the breath from my chest.

I moan against his mouth when I feel his body awaken, that part of him throbbing against my ass.

I think my sound encourages him to deepen the kiss, our mouths finding their rhythm as our lips and tongues tangle together in a dance full of pent up longing and desire.

Davis pulls me even more tightly, leaving me breathless as I hold onto him. This feels like an echo of what happened at the party, like that was the more perverted prequel to this. I like how his touch steadies me so, his hand splayed out against the small of my back.

He's completely stiff, now, and I can feel it twitching against my bottom as we kiss.

I break away from him. We're both panting.

"Can I?" I'm not really asking as I pull away. He lets go of me somewhat reluctantly, and then lust and understanding fills his eyes as I drop to my knees.

He helps me pull down his shorts, his boxers, and then I'm looking at his dick, proudly standing upright and ready for me. Davis is breathing hard with eyes half-closed as I reach out and put a tentative hand around him.

It's warm and the skin is soft, nearly velvety as I run my hand over its length.

It makes Davis groan, and that makes me have to stifle my smile. I like the power this gives me, and when I stroke a thumb all along the underside where it protrudes along its length, he groans.

I've never given a blowjob before, but I hope that he doesn't hate me for my inexperience when I lick the tip.

"Fuck." His hands tighten on either side of his seat, his fingers turning white.

I lick it again, harder this time. It's soft and spongey and it feels pleasurable against my tongue. I copy what Davis did between my legs last time, keeping my tongue flat as I lap at the underside of his cock. I make it all the way down the shaft, until I'm looking at his testicles.

They look kind of funny from up close. When I graze them with my fingernails he gives another groan and the skin tightens.

I press a kiss there, too, and like the way he squirms when I dart my tongue out to lick their underside.

I re-situate myself, putting my mouth near his tip. When I look back, I'm intimidated by the smoldering way he's looking at me. And then I place my mouth on him, my lips sliding around his girth as it enters my mouth.

I suck on him, feeling his tip yielding to my tongue. When I start to take him in between my lips deeper, I do it one centimeter at a time until half of his length is sitting inside my mouth. I can feel the end of his cock inching towards the back of my tongue, and I'm nervous as I slurp on him, moving my mouth up and down.

One of the things I didn't anticipate liking is how his cock is thick and I have to open my jaw wide to accommodate it. I roll my tongue over the tip, feeling the hole open up.

His breaths are labored and his fingers keep flexing against the plastic underside of the chair. I raise my eyes and am met with a possessive heat that makes me falter.

With what seems like some effort, he grabs one of my hands and pushes against my shoulder. I'm a little disappointed, because I'm sure he can tell I'm inexperienced and wants it to stop. But still I comply, shifting my weight from my knees to my heels. There's a popping sound from his cock leaving my lips.

What I don't expect, though, is for him to squat down to pull me up in another kiss.

I'm consumed by him as he lifts me with ease, my toes dragging along the carpet as he walks, with our mouths on each other, to the bed.

A yelp leaves my mouth when he drops me.

"Hey," I say indignantly as I bounce on the bed.

He's looking at me with good humor, a smile on his lips. And then he indicates with his eyes more than anything as he whispers, "Off."

I bite my lip. When what he said about my lip comes to the forefront of my mind, I force it down and cover everything up by hooking my thumbs under my waistband to pull it down. I never did put on underwear, and I feel even more naked than I am as my sweatpants come off.

There's a hunger in his eyes as he watches me slip it off, pulling each leg off one by one. I drop it to the floor and then he's on me, kissing me hungrily as his hands roam up my shirt and then trail back down my stomach. My hands come up to his chest, my fingers curling up against where his muscles flex from his movements.

At a certain point I'm not even paying attention to his mouth on mine, because all I can focus on is the light touch on my stomach, my pelvis, up the inside of my leg, so like a slut I open them and give him the room to do with my body as he wills. When his finger touches my slit I cry out, clutching onto the thin fabric of his shirt.

I'm already dripping wet, so it slides through easily, catching on my swollen clit and making my hips twist away from him.

He doesn't let me move, though, his hand pressing down on my pelvis and keeping me locked against the bed.

"Not so fast." His eyes shine as he does what I did just minute ago, kneeling down at the side of the bed and lowering his mouth to the part of me that's throbbing in excitement.

The contact alone is enough to make my body go rigid, my muscles tightening as he feasts on me.

He's not shy about using his whole face, pressing it into me and slurping on my pussy. The intensity of the wet sounds is only second to the intensity of the sensation of his mouth plastered to my sensitive and engorged flesh, and it makes me thrust my hands into his hair and guide the movements of his head.

Although, guide doesn't seem like an apt word for it.

It more feels like I'm along for the ride, thrown one way or another as he pleasures me with his mouth. It makes whimpers leave my mouth as he passes his tongue over my clit time and time again, the makings of an orgasm brewing in the pit of my stomach.

I can't do anything against it as it builds, waves of sensation starting in my center and starting to rise up my body.

"Davis." I moan his name, the desperate sound passing through my numb lips.

He doesn't answer and I'm glad for it, because his mouth never stops giving me the attention that I need. When it hits, it's sharp and quick, making me cry out loudly as my toes curl and my legs tense around his head. My climax stays with me for a long time, stealing my breath away and leaving me an empty husk of myself, helpless to my brother's tongue continuing to work over me.

Davis doesn't stop, and not even before my body cools I feel another one on the horizon.

I don't even know what sounds are leaving my mouth, now, because I'm so thoroughly claimed by my brother's mouth that my head has gone completely blank, filled with soft static.

Just like at the party, Davis is making sounds, too, and his moaning between my legs is only adding fuel to the fire. I toss my head from side to side, almost wishing I could scramble away from underneath him, but the grip he has on me is too strong and I don't think my body wants this to stop.

He's applying pressure against my clit in a quick rhythm, and each time pleasure shoots up my body.

One of hands is still in his hair, the other one settling in his sheets and getting tangled in them. I grip onto them, desperate for anything to hold onto to anchor myself to reality, but there's no stopping what's coming.

I close my eyes and cum.

My body convulses, becoming completely rigid as my legs stick straight out and my toes curl. The sound that leaves me isn't even a moan. It's more of a wail, or maybe even a soft scream, the pleasure keeping me locked in place as I tremble, defeated by the pleasure that he's gifted me.

Wave after wave runs through the deepest parts of me, my pussy doing its best to grip onto the phantom cock it wants shoved inside of it. But there's nothing, and as I ride the weakening rounds of shivers I realize that I've soaked the bed. Davis has stopped licking me, and raises his face, which shines in the soft light of the morning. His lower face is completely soaked in my juices.

"Oh my God." I can't even properly say it because I'm so spent, and exhilarated laughter leaves my mouth as I let my head fall back onto the pillow under my head.

Davis wipes his face with his sleeve, and there's a smile on his face as he gets up. The bed squeaks as he sits down next to me.

"You're hot when you're cumming," he says seriously, clearing my hair from my face.

I groan and cover my eyes. "You can't just say stuff like that with a straight face."

A hand picks up the arm off of my face, and I'm once again looking at his grin. "Do I make you nervous?"

"Maybe." I say softly. My body still feels weak and gooey, completely vulnerable to him in every way. My mind, heart, and body are all his.

"Maybe?" He echoes me, tucking my hair behind my ear.

His face is so close to mine.

With a burst of effort, I lift my head and press my lips against his in a peck.

"Oh, you'll pay for that." He laughs, rolling on top of me.

My breath leaves me in a rush of air, but it doesn't matter anyways because the way he's kissing me leaves me breathless all over again. I still feel ooey and gooey inside, glowing with the aftermath of my two orgasms, so I can't even pretend to fight the kiss. Not that I want to, because breathing him in and tasting his mouth feels like it can sustain me for eternity.

My body is hypersensitive and weak, and as his hand trails across my ribcage goosebumps rise on my skin.

It's the feeling of something hot and silky sliding against my wetness that makes my eyes fly open, a whimper leaving me. Davis breaks away, our faces just inches from each other.

"I like you, too." The confession leaves my mouth before I can stop them, and it's when it's barely left my mouth that I cry out, because he's splitting me open.

His cock slides into me. Physically I can feel it slips between my lips with ease, but I feel every inch of him forcing my passage open, my muscles still unused to accommodating anything thicker than a tampon. The feeling of his cock dragging along my insides makes me groan with its unfamiliarity.

But along with the unfamiliarity is something else; something darker, deeper, and delicious.

That something else awakens in me as he starts to move. It feels far too soon, like my pussy still hasn't adjusted to his thickness, but already I'm grasping at chest, my fingers gripping onto his shirt as he moves within me.

The physical sensations are at war with the cottony fuzziness in my head, and it makes me unable to do anything but take it as he grinds his hips against mine. His cock is poking things, sliding against things in my depths, and the jolts of sensation run through me.

"You feel so good." He grunts, his face buried into my shoulder. His breaths are hot against my skin, but I barely notice it because what he's doing is driving me to madness.

Just when I feel like I can't take any more, his movement changes. Instead of slowly grinding into me, he starts to move in and out of me. This is pleasurable in another way, the tip of his cock stabbing against the end of my passage with each thrust.

It's overwhelming; each thrust of his elicits a moan from me, and they grow louder and louder until at last I'm halfway to screaming. He lifts up his torso so he's looking at me, and I wrap my legs around his waist like I don't want him to ever remove himself from me. His nostrils flare with the exertion of pounding into me, and when he looks down into my eyes I'm pinned in place by the desire that he's staring at me with.

"Davis." I gasp out between sounds, pleasure uncoiling deep within my stomach and starting to take over.

"I can't," he grunts. "Last very long."

But I'm barely hearing him, my third climax tearing through my vulnerable body. My earlier orgasms have knocked down my defenses, and now I'm subject to the waves of tense pleasure that radiate from my core, the deepest part of me that Davis's cock has been stabbing into. Just like me and Davis, it's slow and deep and devastating, and the length of my orgasm far surpasses what I thought was possible.

My eyes are squeezed shut, rainbow pinpricks of static exploding across my vision as each wave erupts in every part of my body. In my pussy, in my stomach, even down the lengths of my fingers I'm overtaken.

"Fuck." I can only hear Davis say it, his voice sounding muddy through my numb hearing.

Only then do I realize that my legs have rigidly locked around him. It's too late to do anything, though, my pussy pulsating around him and inviting him to spill his seed inside me--which I realize belatedly that he does, warmth flooding my passage in spurts that feel hot against my womb.

I whimper as I come down from my orgasm, legs still locked around Davis but trembling from the exertion of getting fucked.

My vision returns in slow breaths, my hearing starting to come back. He's collapsed on top of me, breathing hard but otherwise not moving. Eventually I gather enough strength to raise my arms and wrap them around his broad shoulders, my fingers settling in the dampness of his shirt along his back.

My heart is still pounding, my whole body alight from everything that'd just happened. But beneath it all, there's a peaceful contentedness in me.

I know that not everything is perfect and that explaining our relationship to anyone would draw some looks, much less to our parents. But I don't even mind the idea of keeping it a secret.

He shifts, lifting himself up from me just enough so that his face is inches from mine. I'm struck again by how attracted I am to him.

We're just a little genetically related. It's not like we've known each other and that we're really siblings.

But even as I rationalize it, I realize that it's not completely true. Even though I can say we're not really siblings, he's taken care of me like I could expect a brother to.

"I feel safe with you." I whisper.

Davis doesn't say anything, only lowering his lips to mine.