Hey guys,

This is my first House of wax fan fiction, but not my first twincest piece. This chapter takes place during the scene where Carly wakes up when they're camping and Wade won't accompany her to investigate the noise. I guess this is my take on what would have happened if Wade didn't wake up.

I hunched over as I walked slowly around the desolate area. I wasn't too keen on camping here in the first place, but after the run in with the rambunctious redneck, I was pretty sure it was the worst idea ever. I wasn't even sure why I'd come out here alone, but it wasn't as if Wade would have protected me anyway. Sure, he was a nice guy and all, but he wasn't much more than that.

After surveying the area to my liking, I turned to sneak back into the tent. I gasped as I felt a warm hand slide around my stomach and the other clamp over my mouth. I tried to scream, but the obstruction muffled my voice.

"Do I have to babysit you 24/7?" I relaxed when I realized that it was my twin brother who held me captive. He wouldn't hurt me. I sagged back against him. His hand left my mouth, but he made no move to release me from his embrace.

"What do you want Nick?" I took a deep breath; thankful it wasn't someone was malicious intentions that had snuck up on me.

He didn't answer me and nuzzled his face against my neck. My skin tingled from the stubble covering his cheek. Instead, he asked me a question of his own. "Is pretty boy so bad in bed that you have to wander around looking for a real man to sate your needs?" His hands were anything but brotherly as they traced the curves of my sides, hips and outer thighs.

"You know I'm not sleeping with Wade." I took a shuddering breath when I felt his warm lips press against my ear. Air puffed from between his lips. He smelled of beer, cigarettes and that musky soap he'd used since we were 14.

"I'd have snapped his neck if I thought you were." He said it simply, as if it were the most logical reaction in the world. His hand trailed over my flat stomach and inched under my shirt. He sighed contentedly when he felt the warm skin against his now chilled hands.

"What do you want Nick?" I repeated the question I already knew the answer to. I'd known since our early teens, when I'd been deemed the good twin and he the bad. He wasn't a bad guy, not by a long shot. I knew I was partially responsible for his rebellious behavior.

"What I always want." He finally answered and I leaned back against his chest and shuddered when he whispered my name in a breathless tone.

He hadn't started acting out until I began pulling away from him when we were 15. We were so close as kids and young teens, but as we got older the cuddling and kidding around turned into soft caresses and lusty gazes. Mom and Dad started questioning the innocence of our relationship and I'd freaked out.

Incest is wrong.

Especially of the twincest variety.

I'd pulled away from him because I found it difficult to deflect his advances.

I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to.

As his hand crept higher under my shirt and his lips tugged on my earlobe, I became achingly aware that I didn't want to be the good twin anymore.

I wanted to be bad with Nick.

Is this worth continuing? Let me know!