Wow, you guys! Thanks for the feedback. :]] Love you all!
So I'm definitely going to try to continue this, because I love Curtiscest pairings. Hope you guys aren't too creeped out; because it'll only get more graphic from here. :P Here's chapter 2! Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.
By the way... review. Seriously.
I had the toughest time sleeping that night. Darry may not seem like much of a hugger, but when he's asleep, his guard goes completely down. Within five minutes of laying there in the dark, my big brother was out cold and tucking close to me. There was that adrenaline rush again.
This all felt so bizarre. Darry'd never really expressed his feelings through physical contact, even when we were younger. I have a vague memory of when I was five years old, probably the first time I'd ever really been hurt.
I had been playing in the driveway with Soda and Darry. Mom was in the kitchen scouring the counters of the messes we'd commonly made. Somehow, Soda and I had started running full-speed down the sidewalk; probably racing. We clawed, scratched, and screamed at each other, until Soda ended up elbowing me. I was knocked off balance and fell forward, falling on solid concrete face-first. I was hurt mostly in my chin, so I don't really have any scars, but I'll always remember the absolutely splitting pain when I hit the ground.
I'd bawled and bawled, wanting nothing more than to be comforted. Soda was so unnerved that he just stood there for a moment, mouth hanging ajar. He was only seven. But then he suddenly starting crying and flailing himself, and started at full speed back up our drive way to go get my mom. Darry scrambled over to me to see if I was okay. I stared up at him, sniffling and wailing, wanting nothing more than a simple hug. Darry's icy eyes held nothing but confusion and a hint of impatience, and soon he was hauling me to my feet and dragging me toward the house. I'd never forget that day; the day I learned just how insensitive my big brother was.
So it definitely felt abnormal to be enveloped in Darry's ripped, muscled arms, my face resting in the crook of his neck. Sometimes I felt like he didn't have any feelings. But I couldn't help but to be in awe of his sheer brawn. Darry was so strong; physically and emotionally. He held up through everything; from mom and dad dying last year, to our basement flooding and all of our old photo albums being ruined, to Soda dropping out of school, to being forced into two jobs. Darry was tuff. And there was something just so racy about the way his muscles moved; the glistening beads of sweat on his chest when he worked on roofs. Forget Soda; Darry was the real looker. Soda was... well, pretty. Darry was, to me, the picture of masculinity.
And sometimes I found myself unconsciously following Darry with my eyes as he plodded into the bathroom to take a shower after a long day of roofing houses. I wondered what he looked like underneath those old Levis that he'd had for as long as I could remember, or what those incredible muscles looked like, tensing and untensing, in the midst of the steam from a sweltering shower.
I tried to forget the times that I'd wandered into the bathroom in the middle of the night when nobody else was awake, making sure to lock the door, so I could finally just set myself free with endless fantasies of my older brother.
Nobody knew me. Sure, people talked to me and spent time with me, and I did socialize, but nobody knew the real me; the one who was in love with a guy, with Darry. Nobody knew me. And the ironic part was that they all thought that I couldn't keep a secret; that they knew me so well.
So I just snuggled up to Darry, knowing that I probably wouldn't be able to do this again. He was worried about me. At least that meant that he cared.
I liked the way my face tucked neatly up against Darry's neck. It made me feel like I was meant to be there; like it kind of fit. I nearly melted when I heard him utter a deep sigh, feeling his neck vibrate slightly. I laid a pedal soft kiss to his slightly clammy skin, relishing the electric sensation I felt on my lips. It happened whenever I was near Darry. This was way past bizarre.
I usually found it way easier to just pretend I didn't feel this way. It was less complicated to be jealous of Soda; much more practical.
I woke up to Darry kneeling in front of me and saying, "Pony, it's time to get up."
I was dilirious, I had just woken up, and the devilishly sensual picture of my brother's sculpted chest in a thin undershirt was directly in front of me; a recipe for disaster. Without thinking, I whimpered and fisted the front of his shirt, bringing him toward me. I buried my face in his chest.
"Mmm..." I breathed, perfectly content.
"Aww, come on, Pony," Darry said hastily, grabbing my wrist in an attempt to escape from my grip.
"You look great in that shirt..." I whispered, then came to my senses and pulled away, rolling over in the bed to avoid looking at Darry. He chuckled, sounding flustered and awkward.
"Thanks, little brother. Now get your ass out of bed," he muttered, pulling the blankets off of me and leaving the room.
When I got to school, I realized that I'd forgotten my English assignment on the desk in my room; the assignment I'd spent hours doing while Soda got to spent time with Darry. I was immediately fuming. But during English when I told Mrs. Firestone that I didn't have the homework, she informed me with a bit of a smirk in her voice that this was my third missing assignment, which meant a detention. Which meant that Darry would go balistic.
