A/N: Sorry to keep you guys waiting; procrastination and writers block is a hell of a detrimental mix! Thanks to my lovely friend for giving me this dramatic twist-I hope you guys enjoy! Things are about to take a hell of a turn on the Heartthrob tour...(your feedback is appreciated, as usual!)
Chapter 9: A Matter of When (Not if)
Tegan's POV
Have you ever betrayed somebody? Like, truly allowed the fact to sink into your mind and heart alike that you're doing something to hurt somebody that you care for deeply? Have you ever woken up wrapped in the embrace of someone that you aren't supposed to love to the extent that you do, only to realize that the person that should be in their position isn't there? Have you ever spent countless hours in a state of sleep deprived thought, raking your brain for an answer to the ever so selfish question, "why"? Why me? Why her? Why not anybody else on this earth? Why us? Why this? Why now? Why…ever?
She hates it when I act childish—return to my angst ridden ways of a broken teenage soul desperate for escape or at least an artificial answer to blame so the burden eases off of my weakened shoulders. She hates it when my eyes glisten with a sheet of tears that I won't allow to escape the confines of eyelids that act as dams and as a barrier to emotion. She hates it when I drown myself in my own misery that I've unknowingly become addicted to. She hates my rock bottom that I've tasted time and time again, all at my own hand. "You did it to yourself," she's said to me more times than I'm capable of counting. "If you stopped with your woe-is-me shit, you'd figure it all out and be back on track."
I am a nameless ghost in your footsteps. You are the light that guides me in the night, the shield that assists in the protection of my foolish heart. But can you shield a foolish heart from its enemy when the enemy is you? Can you protect my heart from yourself?
It's addictive. Feeling down and out, I mean. I hollow out in hopes of replacing what I've lost with whatever I can gather—sympathy, empathy, pity. Why I feel so complete while lying beside you leaves me clueless and slightly misguided. I'm so terribly accustomed to feeling void, and at your side I almost have a compulsion to empty out some of this sudden feeling of completion. I love you, I do. And that scares me more than you know.
Sara turns, shifting graciously against the sheets wrinkled from sleep beneath her, until honeycomb eyes meet my own, and while still glazed over with exhaustion, they seem more vibrant and content than they have since Austin. I wonder if she can read into my thoughts, that stupid twin telepathy thing people have been going on about since before we were capable of forming sensible sentences. It's only then that I realize we've been souls connected by a red string of fate since before we were even physically tangible beings. One person split into two separate bodies, separate identities, separate laws and moral codes to live and act by. But in this bed, the barriers of division serve no purpose and I am left to allow my soul to revel in the connection it's been seeking out once again. Don't leave me I want to tell her, over and over again until my throat is raw from repetition. Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me…
Sara's POV
Waking up beside Tegan leaves a slightly eerie feeling hanging in the air that forces me to live through flashbacks of our childhood. I recall nights where loud crashes of thunder would leave her crawling into my bed and beneath my covers, clinging to me for support and emotional sturdiness as if her life depended on it. And now I find myself wrapped in her protective hold as if the tables have somehow managed to turn at some point or another, her fingertips brushing back and forth against the sensitive skin of my lower back beneath the sweatshirt I had stolen from her the night before. She looks as if she spent the night straining her eyes to count paint speckles on the ceiling above, and I can't help but be slightly concerned. "You okay?" I ask, my voice quieter and gentler than it has been in months, still ridden with the rasp of sleep. Tegan simply nods in response, the heel of her free hand taking to her eyes to rub away exhaustion. Morning quiet hoovers sleepily over the bedroom, slivers of light shining through the window just over our heads. Tegan's always had a thing about pushing her beds up against the nearest window, loving the cool breezes that tumble through screens on summer nights. It was also an excuse to close the distance between herself and a bed partner in the colder months, something I can see that she's attempting to do ever so slyly right now, easing closer though making it seem as if she's doing nothing more than shifting to find a more comfortable position to lie in. The flannel pants that are slightly oversized against my calves have worked their way up to bunch at my knobby knees, allowing the warm and silken skin of Tegan's leg to brush against mine like silk as she lazily drapes it across me before wiggling closer with a groan of comfort. The sound of fabric on fabric friction between her clothes and the sheets beneath us pierce our silence before she smiles lazily, snaking her tongue over lips that seem desperate to connect with mine in an unhurried display of affection that wishes me good morning without the need for words. I stay silent, eyes quickly switching from her lips to her nose to anywhere they can settle, hoping that somewhere will be enough to take my mind from wishing to allow her kiss. But before I can even deter the impression that I'm interested, Tegan's leaning in, capturing my lips with her own so lovingly that I it takes every bit of self-restraint to keep myself from dissolving into a puddle. I hate the fact that Tegan is capable of using her allure on me. I should be anything but vulnerable to it. I should be beyond immune to her pull, to the magnetism that has me lifting my arms as her gentle fingertips catch the hem of my sweatshirt in their hold, one swift and smooth tug upwards ridding my body of its warmth that is only replaced by Tegan's warmth instead. I want so wholly to push her away as she moves ever closer, deepening our kiss that is anything but proper, her bubblegum tongue exploring the caverns of my mouth without being met by a single bit of resistance. Somehow, she's managed to convince my tongue to move along with her own, and for the first time I'm capable of picking up the taste of need against my tastebuds. I can spend the rest of my life denying it, but God…I've never needed somebody so desperately in all of my years.
The stripping of fabric barriers between us comes fluidly, our clothing tainted with the dust of sleep finding its way into a not so neat pile upon the floor beside the bed as my skin learns the kiss of Tegan's against it. This isn't the first time, no—but in another regard, it is. This is the first time that I'm willingly giving in, allowing my icy and adamant denial to dissipate into the warm air around us. This is the first time I'm allowing my senses to pick up every detail in hopes of committing this moment to memory. This is the first time I don't see this action as "giving up" on my morals; it's simply a matter of giving in to the bond we've been lacking. An expression of love beyond what you can deal out with each and every person that you care for. This intimacy is physical, solid; channeling emotion that is capable of transferring between two bodies momentarily. These are the love letters thought up and stowed away for years in my head or stuffed into a lockbox beneath my bed for safe keeping, finally becoming a love that is tangible and well communicated sans words on both ends.
Tegan's POV
The sight of Sara bare and exposed for my eyes to take in is one I'll never quite forget. Overwhelming desire that I thought was a feeling dreamed up by fiction authors overcomes each and every inch of my body as I find my way on top of her, straddling a waist with just the slightest addition of curvature that look to me like waves of my own ocean. I allow myself to be rocked and swayed by them, learning her motions and tempo alike as curious fingers move across unexplored skin. Her breasts that blush against my touch, a chest that heaves and falls in hopes of catching the breath that I've expelled leave me feeling dizzy and incapable of processing much more than carnal hunger. The vulnerability that lingers between us leaves me struggling to breathe properly, and for a split second in time I wonder if this moment means far more to me than it ever will to my sister. The slow rocking back and forth of my hips against hers leaves prominent hip bones to kiss my own with each fluid motion, the craving burning like an unquenchable fire in the pit of my stomach growing with each passing second. I can't help but be greedy, hand resting flat against the taut abdomen beneath me for support as I grind harder against Sara. The hands that have found my sides are sinking nails deliciously into my skin, as if the connection we've managed isn't close enough, Sara's eyes boring holes into my being. Her breathing has become scattered, picking up in pace though catching in her throat when shocks of pleasure surge through her. It amazes me how my thighs are already trembling with the anticipation of a mind blowing orgasm, how the slightest bit of pressure against my clit has goosebumps scattered across every inch of my body that's begging for Sara's touch. And although the simultaneous grinding is forcing ever increasing wetness and heat to become more announced between my legs, something is still missing. I need the actual connection; I need her inside of me.
Sara's POV
Tegan's reaching for one of my hands, removing it from her side to lift herself off of my waist just enough to slip it between her thighs that seem to be quivering. I never thought of Tegan to be the type who practically keels over with anticipation, and perhaps she isn't—perhaps only I hold the ability to drive her this wild. She's back to rolling herself in slow, teasing circles that practically lull me into permanent hypnotization. I don't refrain from pressing my thumb against her clit, applying the pressure that she now seems desperate for. And while the change is enough to draw a whimper from her, Tegan's grip tightens around my wrist as she stares into my eyes as if they were the windows to my very soul. "Put your fingers inside me," she husks, the dire necessity and pleading in her voice forcing my own wetness to become pronounced. I'm so sick of claiming that this physicality is accidental, circumstantial. I've fled with shame each time, but I won't retreat with my tail between my legs this time. I want this. I need this. Tegan is mine.
Tongue gliding over lips that still taste of her sleepy kisses, I don't hesitate to allow two fingers to slip inside of Tegan's walls that immediately clench against them. The feeling alone leaves my mind reeling, pushing all thought aside as I work my way in deeper. The curling and uncurling of my fingertips leave her writhing on top of me, head thrown back as ungodly noises and words alike blend together in a symphony of ecstasy that it seems she's never reached before. The hand that isn't gripping my wrist in attempts of forcing me deeper is buried in her mess of auburn curls disheveled from sleep, and the clenching of her jaw and stomach muscles alike have me eager to drag Tegan to the edge just to watch her fall into oblivion at my hand. Sure, I've had my fair share of intimate experiences, but none could ever hold a candle to the craving that hangs heavily between us. She's taken to riding my middle and ring fingers now, each completed motion only squeezing me tighter. I'm blindsided by the wetness that's practically dripping down my forearm now, the flush in Tegan's face telling me that each carefully executed touch is driving her closer to the release she's craving. But as if the stars preparing to align suddenly chose to wander a different path, the sound of my phone vibrating against the window sill above my head pierces the warm air like a surge of ice in my veins, catching the both of us off guard and throwing me from my zone. Tegan, whilst still hungrily rocking herself against my fingers in hopes of steadily nearing climax, peers over to the screen that's lit up to call for attention. "S-Stacy," she stumbles, the worry in her eyes reflecting that in my own. I should have expected she'd be ringing me around this time, as it had become a habit of hers to dial up a good morning call when I was away. The knot in my stomach that had originally formed over the sexual tension between Tegan and I was now tightening with anxiety and panic as I attempt to withdraw my fingers, though my greedy twin's grip tightens to keep me where I am. "How do I ignore it?" she breathes, reaching for the phone with the hand that had been buried in her forest of hair. In a flustered daze, my scattered brain struggles to recall which way to swipe at the screen of the phone to decline a call—horizontal is to decline, vertical to accept? No, it's vertical to decline, horizontal to accept. Try as I might to focus on Tegan's question, the whimpers and moans increasing in volume and desperation are making my heart pound louder than the sound of my train of thought that ends up derailed when I blurt out, "Swipe vertically, I'll c-call her back."
Stacy's POV
Sara left for Vancouver the other day with the intention of bringing Tegan back to Austin. She seemed a bit distant and vague over the reasoning behind their tiff that had sent the older twin running for the cover of familiarity at home, and the fact that Sara had chased after her sister was odd enough in itself. She wasn't the clingy type and truly never had been—if either of the girls were clingy, it was Tegan by a long shot. We haven't spoken much since we exchanged goodbyes in the airport terminal, though even then Sara seemed dazed and preoccupied, her mind searching somewhere else. I never paid it much mind, though the fact that our communication has been dwindling close to nothing, I can't refrain from dialing her up to check in after texts went unanswered. I listen to one ring, followed by another and one more before my call is answered, though it seems that she's fumbling to get a proper hold on the phone. I don't hear her usual "Hello?" on the other end—instead, I get an earful of muffled jumbling, and I wonder for a moment if perhaps her pocket has accidentally answered for her as it so often does with the inconvenience of a sensitive touch screen.
"Babe?" I try, though am met with nothing more than a continuation of noises I can't entirely identify. There's music playing, and while it's faint it's still loud enough to block out whatever else is going on in the background. "Sara?" I try again, waiting for that familiar voice to greet me sleepily and force my anxiety to melt away immediately. The longer I wait for a response, the more irritated I become. I feel as if I've been left completely in the dark to whatever has occurred between my girlfriend and her sister, something terribly unlike the woman I fell head over heels for. Just as I'm figuring it's better to just end the call, I catch the sound of speaking behind the unclear music. Brow furrowed in confusion, I listen in closer, covering my opposite ear with two fingers in hopes of drowning out distraction on my end of the line. I repeat Sara's name only to hear it practically echoed, though it isn't my voice that I hear.
"Right there," comes through huskily, following the sound of what seems to me like heavy breathing—panting even—before an unbelievably loud moan moves through one ear to the other, my eyes widening in utter shock and disbelief. What the hell did I just hear? Before I even have a chance to gather my thoughts, another stream of words leaves sickness in the pit of my stomach. "Sara please, I need you deeper…"
"What the fuck?" I say aloud, lifting my phone away from my ear and looking to the screen of my phone as if it would disregard the fear and disgust in my heart, somehow telling me that this wasn't my Sara on the other end of the line. It wasn't my Sara's name tumbling from someone else's lips in the grasp of lust; it wasn't my Sara giving herself up to someone other than me. "Sara! Pick up your fucking phone!"
The ill feeling leaving knots in my nerves is bring my blood to a boil as I try and try again to get my girlfriend's attention, though am simply subjected to nothing more than continuous loops of ecstasy stacking itself in increasing crescendos. That disgust and disbelief only staggers to an unsurpassable level when the voice I've come to know better than my own utters the name I'm dreading to hear in a tone riddled with fervor. "Fuck, Tegan…"
Tegan's POV
My nails are practically removing each layer of paint from my window sill as I claw relentlessly for something to keep me from being recklessly thrown over the edge of an orgasm so powerful that Sara has to be behind it, my entire body trembling like a crumbling leaf. "I'm gonna c-cum," I stutter between breaths I struggle to grasp, the feeling of Sara's fingers filling and stretching me leaving me to believe my room is spinning. She has an unbelievable talent for making me dizzy and scatterbrained, blind with delusional lust and carnal desire. I near the cliff with each passing second that her fingers work against my most sensitive spot, eyes rolling into the back of my head as her free hand takes to etching possessive marks to become scars into my back. I want Sara to tear me apart in the most primal and loving of manners. I want her to take me by the throat and steal my air away, forcing me to depend on the breaths she supplies through rough kisses to my bruised lips. I want her relentless love to manifest in physical pain that she'll kiss better in a blinding after glow. Ruin me, Sara. I am yours to break.
Her words of encouragement come in a deep growl that shakes me to my core, hot breath teasing against my ear as she forces her fingers deeper than I knew they were capable of going. "Cum all over me…I want to feel you dripping down my arm."
Jesus. Every muscle in my body tenses to the point that it's almost painful as my hips jerk forward and I practically collapse on top of my sister as the throes of passion swallow me whole, drowning me beneath waves of delirious euphoria that I'm not entirely sure that I ever want to surface from. My breaths refuse to steady and return to normal as my body crumbles against her, my screams muffled by the crook of her neck. From my ruins, my soul searches out its partner within her, and in the aftershock of drowning I feel myself become whole for the first time of my life, my head heavy and spinning with overwhelming emotion.
I never believed the people who claimed drowning was peaceful until this very moment.
Sara, take me under.
Sara's POV
The way Tegan's collapsed against me leaves the strings of my heart looking to tie into hers, and I wonder for a moment if perhaps that's why it's beating so heavily against the wall of my chest. I can feel my toes curling in response to the way Tegan's lifted her head to look into my eyes as I take my fingers into my mouth, savoring the taste of her cum that's drenched them. I've never tasted something so addicting upon first contact, and the idea alone only leaves the heat between my legs to become more pronounced. I have a feeling that perhaps the radiating warmth somehow managed to play against Tegan's skin, because within a moment's notice her lips that were lazily pressing kisses against my neck have been replaced by bites and suction looking to mark me, fingertips circling against my clit that's been throbbing for her touch since she mounted me. I can tell by the way that I'm quick to arch into her that I'm likely going straight over the edge without much effort this time around, my grip working its way into Tegan's hair that's an aphrodisiac in itself. I'm not careful to avoid tugging at her curls or dragging nails over skin that I'm intent on marking, disregarding the possibility of future repercussions. Somehow she manages to find the perfect balance between loving and fucking, kisses against my collarbones tender and caring while her fingers slam into me harder than I've ever experienced before. I'm in a fucking haze of lust that's enough to leave obscenities to trickle from my lips without prior thought, leaving me to beg Tegan to fuck the daylights out of me without shame. And while I'm fixated on pulling her closer, no amount of contact between our bodies is close enough. It's only then that I understand the idea of kindred spirits, smacked directly in the face with the realization that my desires to have her become one with myself is due to the mere fact that we truly were one spirit divided into two at the time of our birth. This leaves me flustered, my hands taking to her face and pulling her in to crash our lips together in reckless and clingy need, my tongue that still faintly tastes of her finding its way inside of her mouth that welcomes me without hesitation. It's only in that moment where she manages to hit the exact spot my body's been hoping for, forcing me into the deepest abyss of rapture that I've ever met. The near violent peak I hit has me whimpering Tegan's name over and over again, head falling back into the hold of her pillows. I've surpassed cloud 9 without the knowledge that such an experience was even possible, the light headed spinning leaving me to cling to my twin for dear life.
Tegan's POV
Sheer and thin sheets of sweat coat mine and Sara's bodies alike as we bask in mutual understanding, allowing our souls to reunite if only for this moment. The red string of fate laces us back up in the places we've come undone as my ear rests against my sister's chest, listening to the slowing beats of her heart that call out to me as her ribs expand and contract, deep breaths forcing them to expand enough to invite me in. I could lose myself here, and slowly I begin to until the vibration of Sara's phone against the sill brings me back to reality once more. Lifting my head, Sara pushes me away reluctantly, if only enough to push herself into an upright position. She seems disgruntled over the fact that Stacy's taken to bothering her like a worried mother, and while I hate to admit it, I allow myself to snicker internally. As selfish as it may seem, I pride myself in the fact that I've managed to get my twin to put me before anybody else in her life, though as her brows furrow with her gaze upon an illuminated screen, I wonder if my selfishness has come at an improper time. When her chest begins to rise and fall heavily once again, worry sets in and my hand falls against her shoulder in hopes of offering solace or reassurance. "What's wrong?" I ask. I'm met with a stare of absolute terror as Sara lifts her eyes, forcing my heart into overdrive. The silence cuts into me like a knife as I speak up once again. "What?" The anxiety ripping my nerves to shreds is obvious in my voice as Sara simply turns the phone enough for me to read the message she's received from Stacy, and it takes me more than five times reading it over to fully comprehend the situation we've just gotten ourselves into.
Next time you decide to fuck your sister, make sure you decline my call first, you disgusting bitch.
