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This story contains twincest / incest. If you dont like it, then don't read it. Simple.

Disclaimer: all standard disclaimers apply.

Captive Senses

Aya + Aki

By: L 0 K I

( ) *

There was something there.

Aya Mikage held her breath and listened, her heart beating frantically in her chest. Shadows...how come she had never noticed how many shadows there were in her room? Like that one. What was that? Was it there the night before? And that one...The full moon shone brightly through her open window---

Her open window?!

There was definitely someone here!

She lay frozen upon her bed, trying to calm her panting breaths. Someone was here. And they had to hear her...Her closed door was clear across the room, could she make it? Maybe if she just suddenly leaped and didn't stop until she was downstairs...

Again! There it was again! A scuffling in the darkness.

Where...Where?!

Her breath strangled for a second in her throat.

Lay still! Lay still! Don't move! They'll leave if you. Just. Don't. Move.

The sheet tugged tighter across her, bunching at one end of her bed.

Goawaygoawaygoawaygoaway

Cold fingers fumbled across her foot.

She yelped, kicking out blinding in her panic and scuttling across the bed. She yelped again as her back struck the corner between her headboard and the wall. She pressed herself hard into that corner, curling smaller and tighter, covering her face with her hands.

Don'thurtmedon'thurtmedon'thurtme...!

Someone grabbed her shoulder.

"NO!" She flung her arm out, her feet frantically sliding in her tangled sheets as she tried to stupidly force herself through the wall.

There was a muffled thump and groan, and then---

"Damnit, Aya!"

The whispered-shout immediately registered in her mind, and she flung her head up, her terror abruptly shifting into rage. "Aki! What the hell?!"

"Aya..." he slurred, suddenly sounding piteous and small.

"Aki, what the hell are you doing sneaking around in my room in the middle of the night!? And! And!..." she paused, sniffing the air suddenly. Her eyes went wide, "Are you drunk?!"

"No..." A rustle of fabric, the same rustle that had woken her not ten minutes ago. "Not really," he finished lamely.

She shoved herself angrily to the edge of her bed and snapped on the lamp, casting a faint glow of gold across her neat and tidy room. And revealing a not so neat and tidy lump sprawled across the floor next to her bare foot. Her pale pink sheet was still tangled around his left hand, while he was cradling his right hand in his lap, staring down at it petulantly.

"Why'd ya have to hit me, Aya?" he muttered almost unintelligibly.

Aya stared down at her twin brother, her lips parted slightly, her mind racing in a million different directions while her body was just too tired from the adrenaline high to keep up. Finally she sighed, placing her face in the cradle of her hands and twining her fingers through her mussed blonde locks. "Aki," she said gently, slowly, "what are you doing?"

She heard him shift again, then she felt cold fingers on her bare foot once more. She lifted her head to look at him, and saw him staring with half-open eyes at his hand as it circled her thin ankle loosely, then slowly slid up. Something not unknown but certainly unwelcome shivered through her and she instantly snapped her foot back, her hand curling into a tight fist.

"Aki," she demanded sharply, more to keep the quiver of shock out of her voice than to grasp his attention. What was he doing??

His shoulders twitched at her voice, and he pulled back, his eyes opening wider and trying through pure force of will alone to focus on her face. "Aya," he said in surprise, as if just now noticing her for the first time. He shook his head once, and then looked around curiously, not seeming to recognize his surroundings. "Aya," he mumbled again.

She rubbed futilely at her temples. "Aki," she growled, "Are you drunk?"

"No...?"

Taking a deep breath, she just managed to tamp down her urge to kick him before she could actually follow through with the desire. By the looks of things, it probably wouldn't have affected him anyway. Turning her head to the red glow of the digital clock on her bedside table, she took a sharp breath at how late it was. Or more, how early.

"Where have you been?!" She was trying to keep her voice down so as not to draw the attention of their sleeping parents, but really, if her embarrassingly girly 'yipping' hadn't woke them, she doubted anything would. A sad parallel to what was going on in their lives lately.

"Jordan's"

Ah, Jordan. One of those little punks from school he'd taken to running around with...instead of her. "You were supposed to have been home hours ago! What were you thinking, crawling in my window like that?! What if a neighbor saw you?! What if mom and dad find out?!"

"Quit yellin' at me," he muttered bitterly, rubbing at his forehead where apparently he'd hit it at some point in the night, if the bump and iridescent-oil colour to his skin was anything to go by.

She slumped where she sat, reaching out to gently push his hair off his forehead. There fingers tangled a moment before he jerked away, making a pained noise deep in his throat. "Aya! Don't!"

She followed him, slipping to the floor and pretty much cornering him against the edge of her bed. "Quit whining, ya big baby," she muttered in disgruntlement, reaching out to hold his face in place with one hand while the fingers of her other hand gently probed at his wound. "What did you do," she whispered, acknowledging again that she was being defeated by no one but herself where he was concerned. She could never stand to see him hurt.

"I fell," he said, her eyes widening as his breath passed over her face. She drew back instantly, her eyes widening even further when she realized his hands had somehow come to rest on her hips. Her nightgown was thin enough that she could nearly feel his fingers on her, like long, thin bands of ice.

"So warm," he slurred drunkenly, nuzzling his face against her hand.

She started back, jumping shakily to her feet. He gave a sound of surprise then tumbled sideways, having been easily unbalanced in his inebriated state. She was on her knees again, pulling him back up, keeping her hands on his shoulders to steady him. How the hell had he managed to climb in through her window? It didn't seem as if he could even walk in a straight line let alone climb up the porch roof.

Which undoubtedly meant he wasn't going to be strolling off to his own bedroom anytime soon. And there was no way she could carry him.

Fine, she raged silently in her head, Fine! She was on her feet again, roughly catching hold of his hands and pulling with all her might. Get up, you idiot! "Come on, Aki," she cajoled angrily,

Through sheer force of will she managed to drag him up onto the bed. He tried to help, but he was actually more of a hindrance than anything else. But once he was sprawled haphazardly across her tangled pink sheets, she sighed and rubbed at her eyes. All she wanted was to throw herself down and pass out, but her work was not quite done.

With a mixed glare of aggravation and affection, she shook her head and just let herself be grateful that he had managed to get home in one piece. Of course, that didn't mean she forgave him for ruining her sleep.

She turned, prepared to get an extra cover and make her bed on the floor, but he caught her wrist as it swung past, pulling her abruptly off balance to tumble back on the soft mattress. His arms came around her clumsily, holding her in place. She made a half-hearted attempt to get free, then sighed, too tired to bother with him, or just about anything anymore. She fell back against the bed and his arm, just laying there and staring up at the shadowed ceiling.

As soon as she stopped struggling his hold on her loosened, his arm slipping out from under her to lay those scant few inches between them. For a few seconds the only sound was their soft breathing.

"Why were you drinking anyway," she asked quietly, feeling a sort of strange, yet comforting, lethargy steal over her.

"To escape," he whispered just as quietly.

"To escape what," she asked, already knowing his answer. She was living that answer every day as their parents' marriage seemed to be imploding from the inside out. But he surprised her

"You."

"Me?" she parroted in surprise and not a small amount of hurt.

"Why are you going out with him? He doesn't deserve you, Aya." The petulance was back. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I thought you liked Touya."

"I did."

"Did?"

"He shouldn't be allowed to touch you," he whispered harshly, his jean-clad leg shifting slightly, just enough to brush the rough hem against her ankle.

She took a deep breath. "Aki, you're my brother. That's not your decision to make."

He was quiet for a long moment after that, and then a soft, almost boyish whisper, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you have to be my sister? Why do I feel this way? Why can't I escape you? Why---"

Her breaths were coming faster and faster, his words trying to fill her head and make sense. She wouldn't let them. She spun around, her hands instantly snapping out and slapping hard over his mouth to stem the flow of words. Scary, incriminating words.

NO!

"Aki, no," she bit off harder than she meant to. He couldn't keep saying such things to her. If he did, then she wouldn't be able to keep ignoring them. Of course, he struggled against her, catching hold of both of her wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. He jerked her hands down, refusing to let go when she tried to pull free.

"Why, Aya? Why can't we---"

"NO!"

"He'll never know you like I do! We've been together since we were born! How can you let him take you away from me!?"

"Stop it, Aki! You're my brother! It's not right!"

The words were out before she could stop them. They were the right words, but they implied far more than she had wanted to look at for the moment. Or probably ever.

He froze, and she could distinctly hear his breath catching in his throat as his head fell back on her pillow.

He let go of one of her wrists, pressing his palm over his face as if there was something he didn't want to see. Or something in his eyes he didn't want her to see. He made a sound deep in his throat, and it took her a long stunned moment to realize that he was laughing. But it wasn't a healthy sound---very broken, very bitter and hopeless.

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I repeat those same words to myself every day," his hand slid slowly down his face until he was staring up at her with burning, hurt eyes. "Every night?" Not even a whisper. Two words formed of breath and lip, and the need behind them a thing of frightening force.

Her heart was suddenly like an animal in her chest, scratching and clawing and throwing itself at the walls to get free.

His right hand tightened on her wrist, drawing it forward. "It never changes, you know, no matter how many times I tell myself it's wrong..." His other hand was in her hair, fingers curving around the nape of her neck and his thumb stoking gently across her leaping pulse. He pulled her down until there was just one breath left between them. "...I still want you."

She couldn't help but gasp, be it at the persistent sensuality of his touches, or the almost destructive taste of his honesty---didn't matter. It was a reaction from her, and enough of an opening---He jerked her mouth down to his, kissing her deeply with a sort of desperate passion.

He tasted like alcohol. Something bitter and intoxicating, and not captive of the senses. But underneath...underneath there was the taste of something sweet...of one small hand in another, of summer afternoons, and sun on puddles, and blackberries smeared across laughing mouths. For one moment she was back there, surrounded by love and those better days. For one moment the recriminations in her head were silent, the screaming voices of all those patriarchal values and morals---she could see them for what they were. Opinions mistaken as fact, words clung to as truth, even as they contradicted themselves.

She went limp against him with the sudden clarity of her own thoughts. Not kissing him back, but letting him kiss her, letting him coax her mouth open under his. He sensed the lessening of her resistance on an almost instinctive level, wrapping his free arm around her back and threading his fingers tighter through her hair. He tilted his lips hungrily across hers, deeper and harder, teeth and jaw working, his tongue twining with hers though her own lay passive under his caresses. It was enough that she wasn't pushing him away anymore. It was some barrier broken and they both knew it.

He made a sound, a sort of half-sob of mingled relief and frantic need, and it tore through her shock and clarity, going straight through her body like a bolt of lightning. And it was that completely inappropriate stab of desire that finally woke her from her paralysis, gave her the strength she needed to rip her mouth free of his, to throw herself back and out of his arms. In the next second she was across the room, leaning hard against her closed door and trying not to hyperventilate. Her lips were tingling, her body shaking, and everything suddenly seemed so hot and stifling. Her stomach was clenching so hard that she thought she might throw up, while at the same time she...ached. She...she...

Her eyes widened.

She flung open her door and ran.