I don't think I even learned to be fair.
That sugar on his skin was mine; and she wanted to make me share.
The heat melted the honey on my fingertips, losing this aching friction when I gripped his chains. Oh sweet prince, my brother; his eternal craving to just taste.
We shared a room in a modest house, lost amongst diminishing trees and asphalt. I never woke up without a shiver, a reach for sheets and tasting something bitter. My toes felt for icy wood in the dark, nightmares bleeding me dry and racing my heart. Count the footsteps, seven to go, before his fingers touched my waist; screaming yes instead of no. He hushed my sobs with kisses to my forehead and my cheeks.
When I get older and sense rolls in, will other men make me weak?
Gretel moaned in discomfort, rolling around to get some feeling in her arms. Red glowed throughout the room from the sunlight straining through her curtains. An exhale of breathe and she smiled, lightly shaking her restless brother.
"Han, get up. We slept in late, probably missed breakfast."
"You don't need breakfast. Maybe if you stopped eating chocolate before bed…"
"I told you, chocolate doesn't cause the nightmares."
His furrowed brows made her pout. Suddenly grinning, he reached for her, digging his fingertips across her navel, thrilled by her giggles. They wrestled through the blankets across the mattress, stopping only when her eyes were damp and breathing was hitched. She playfully shoved him and struggled to stand on her weak knees, jumping at the sound of her mother's voice.
"Quit making noise and hurry up, unless you know a better way to plant seeds from the second floor!"
"Shh, let's straighten you up before mom fusses again." Gretel sighed and rolled her eyes, looking up into her brother's with a wicked smile. Her arms raised parallel to the floor; shoulders back and watching his fingers unlatch her buttons. She shimmed out of her nightgown and giggled, covering her breasts and twirling in place against the cold air. He stilled her with his hands on both sides of her face and pulled a dress from the closet.
"Do you take pleasure in dressing me up every morning like a baby doll?" He chuckled, staring her straight in the face as her palms left her breast to help pull the cloth over her head.
"What other baby dolls are here to play with? Haven't you noticed? I sort of own you." Gretel stifled another laughed and swatted his shoulder, slipping on her shoes and tying her hair. "I'm afraid you'll have to resort to father's carving tools. Try not to hurt yourself, dear brother."
In his mind, the only pain he could ever witness was losing her. It would eat him alive and his stepmother would be satisfied. The sight of them loathed her; ever since she traded her jewels and parties for wood carvings and farming.
But the taste for sugar never ceased.