Author: Obscurity
Summary: One night. That's all it takes for Dylan and Norman to show Norma how close two brothers can be.
Disclaimer: Bates Motel belongs to Robert Block, Kerry Ehrin, Anthony Cipriano, Carlton Cuse.
It was raining out.
The hotel silhouetted darkly against the landscape behind it; illuminated mostly by strikes of lightening that danced across the browning grass.
His clothes were wet.
Soaked through as he realized his chattering teeth, loud in the motel room bathroom at the end of the bend; the one with the perfect view of his mother's bedroom. He didn't know why he was wet. Drenched from the heavy downpour shaking the wind chimes his mother hung by the motel room doors.
But he was and he didn't remember running there through the rain. He didn't remember anything since the fight he had with Dylan earlier that day. Over the pair of panties his older brother had accused of being his mother's. He peeled off his jean jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. He rubbed his temples for a moment as he settled on the toilet seat to tug off his soaked boots. Off came the pants and he stood in front of the mirror as lightening flooded the room with an eerie glow of light.
Suddenly the storm had stilled and Norman stood in front of the mirror in his white socks and his white briefs and damp hair and he listened for the clues as to why he was there. In the room he usually went to, to watch his mother when she thought he couldn't see her.
"Mmmmppph."
*Thud. Thud.*
His body whipped toward the bathroom door, away from his own sinister shadow staring at him from the mirror. His hand shook as he turned the knob. His heart was making him nervous; it was pattering so hard in his ears. In his wildest nightmare the sex slave would be in the room next door begging for him to help her and he'd stand there frozen. Maybe he just blacked out and he would snap out of it when it was confirmed. Maybe he was dreaming. He took a steadying breath and turned the knob. He'd wake up. The door creaked open tediously, and it screeched on the hinges. Thunder sounded somewhere outside and he jumped, turning to look over his shoulder out of habit … not so much out of fear.
His head edged into the dark motel room and he saw skin; alabaster smooth skin. Hairless legs and the curve of a supple hip. Bare feet and a slender waist. All contours that made a woman. A body he knew well from observation. His breathing picked up. Feminine arms were slung high on the bed post, tied tightly by what looked to be pillow cases. A trail of blood shadowed his mother chin, smeared by the panty house stuffed haphazardly in her mouth.
"Mmmmmmph. Mmmmpphhh!" she struggled against her restraints.
Her legs loose from binding she flailed against the fabric biting into her wrists. Norman swallowed thickly. She was nude. Inviting to his sight all he wanted to do was … he cleared his throat.
"Will you have me mother?"
His mother stopped moving. The only light in the room was dim and flickering against her changing facial expressions. He walked to the edge of the bed, his fingers trailed lightly up her calves and rested flatly against her changing facial expressions. He walked to the edge of the bed, his fingers trailed lightly up her calves and rested flatly against Norma's stomach. They stared at each other for a few moments. Norma looked at him with questions in her tear filled eyes. The door flew open, banging louder than the rain as the storm raged outside. Dylan stood there. Shivering in wet clothes with a bag tossed over his shoulder.
"You were going to start without me, Norman? After I helped you get the old bitch over here. And I thought we were brothers."
He sucked his teeth at Norman as he peeled off his clothing, slamming the door with his foot and settling in his boxer briefs on the chair at the foot of the bed. He tossed the bag at Norman and he caught it, out of habit, and pulled the box of condoms out questioningly. He looked to his brother confused.
"You don't wanna do her raw, Norman. That sex slave was on drugs and probably infested. And Norma here isn't too smart when it comes to contraception. I got her here. Now I get to watch."
Norman isn't normal. He doesn't feel things. He experiences things as consequence to his impartial emotions. He wouldn't be scared. He'd be startled. Out of habit. He wouldn't catch something because he's supposed to. He would do it because it's expected.
Dylan lit a rogue cigarette from the leather jacket he hung on the edge of the chair he sat in, his eyes fixed on Norma, who was murmuring quietly at Norman to let her go; words jumbled by the gag she was choking on. The rain pounded on relentlessly outside. Norman stood between the two of them. Ignoring the cries from his mother. Trying to make sense of the time he'd lost. The events that led up to this decision. To finally have the one thing his mother flaunted over his nose like some puppy. He wanted to be inside her again. Although, differently now. And Dylan had helped make it happen. He opened the box of condoms. His mother began thrashing wildly, yelling specifically at Dylan at the end of the bed as he laughed and blew cigarette smoke into the dimly lit room.
Norma was shouting through the gag, all fear dissipated and anger remained. Dylan put out the cigarette butt on the bed post, leaning in to smirk at Norma.
"See Norman, she's only mad at me because she wanted you to have her on her terms. She was going to make you go so crazy and when she finally let's you have her … she gets bored. Suddenly you're too old or not her perfect little boy anymore. I guess its time you knew how much of a cunt your mother really is."
He was shaking. Afraid of the look on his mother's face. Nervous of the bulge growing in his briefs. The ache to be in control for once. To call the shots. He sat down on the bed. His hand came slowly to Norma's breast, his fingers twirling around her nipple until it hardened. Norma screamed with the thunder. And Norman couldn't tell which was louder over the sound of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He moved his hand over to the other and pinched, biting his lip in anticipation as Norma arched her back and cried against him. It sounded like she was pleading.
Norman decided he liked that sound.
He wanted it to hurt. He wanted her to feel physically what he'd been feeling emotionally through the years; trapped under the rule of his mother. And her unreachable expectations. He mounted her to the sounds of his brother's enthusiastic cheering. Norma fought him. She struggled and she fought and Norman had to pry open her legs before the sobbing quieted. He could practically hear her in his head.
"You're better than this Norman. Don't be like them … you're different."
He thrust inside her, her screaming primal, all the noises of pain reverberated loudly with the rain and the subtle noises of Dylan's moving hand. Norman pulled away from her dry body, pushing deeper inside her as he heard her in his head.
"Norman. Don't do this."
He put his hand on her hip to steady her as she grew slick with sudden arousal.
"You're not being the son I raised."
She would say if the gag weren't choking back her words. He shook his head and moved faster. Every man Norma loved hurt her. They loved her so much they can't help but hurt her. He was like those men. Holding her down and forcing parts of her open and leaving her there without them. He felt Norma flutter from inside, clenching muscles quaking around his penis. Norma slowed, and he felt her go limp as he felt the familiar feeling of his own climax rising.
He wasn't different.
He would have her and hurt her like every man forced to fall in love with her. The sounds of his brother moaning in to his own orgasm catapulted him in to bliss. He kept his eyes open. Focused on the empty stare of his unmoving mother beneath him and the quiet of the passing storm.