mantoniolealt: Thank you, I appreciate that. I haven't made any changes.
Guest: Nothing different, just a straight reupload.
Jeff: Thank you, man, that means a lot. I based a lot of Gwen's life and feelings on my own, as I did with Lemy. I chose to do that because I thought it would make them more relatable.
Lyrics to Get It Hot by AC/DC ( Volts version, 1997)
Night is the best time for thinking: It's quiet, lonely, and there's nothing to do unless you get your ass out of bed - or reach out and grab your phone from the nightstand. Lemy spent most of Friday night and early Saturday morning lying awake in bed, his fingers laced behind his head and his eyes pointed the the ceiling, where orange light cast by a street lamp outside his window made surreal and expressionist shapes
Chiefly on his mind was Lyra; thoughts of her danced through his head like sepia-toned precious memories, and the pain in his chest became keener and keener as the harvest moon rode across the star splattered sky. I just want to be with her. That's all. I want to hold her and have her. I can't, though, and it's eating me up inside.
Gwen also occupied space in his head. The more he thought about her, the more confused he became. Leia said she really liked him, and he kind of felt like she did too...but she didn't even know him. How can you like someone you don't know? Before today, he spent a grand total of like two minutes in the same place as her. Maybe she thought he was hot, but wanting to bone someone is a lot different than liking them, right? Or am I overthinking things again? I have a bad habit of doing that; I get so fucking tangled up sometimes I can't even move. She acted like she was into him...but she also acted like a fucking nympho who only wanted to smash. If that's how it is, great, fine, I'm down with that, but I'm not about to be her little boyfriend.
And now that I'm really meditating, that shit I did downstairs was a bad fucking idea, you know, hugging and kissing up on her to make Lyra jealous. It, uh, it sends the wrong message. It says sweet little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend (that's The Ramones by the way) not okay, we did it...now go home. Not that I wanted her to go home, I kind of needed her, I just...I dunno. I'm giving myself a headache.
He shifted and tried to get comfortable but couldn't, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lyra on the backs of his lids - her loving smile and her eyes filled with tender affection. Her arms were out, beckoning him to her breast.
I'd make you so happy, Lyra, I'd do anything for you.
He sighed and rolled to the wall. He stared at it was sad eyes, his breathing short and ragged.
A lot of people carry pain with them, and unrequited love was his cross to bear.
Toward dawn, he fell into a thin, fitful sleep haunted by wispy phantoms that dissipated like smoke if you looked at them too long. Many of them looked like Lyra.
At some point, he tumbled deeper into unconsciousness, and didn't come awake again until much later; warm, golden sunlight fell through the window and bathed the bed in liquid fire. His mind rose slowly from the depths like an ancient PC booting on - reluctantly and with much protest. His first thought was of Lyra; his morning wood ached for her body's embrace and his arms ached to be around her. He second thought was of burying his face in the pillow and fleeing back into the folds of sleep; it was easier than getting up and carrying that goddamn cross around.
He tried, he really did, but when he was up, brother he was up. Sighing, he rolled out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, and grabbed his cross for the long trek up to Calvary.
When you think about it, the most unbelievable thing about the Bible was that one dude carried a whole fucking cross by himself. He could buy the jawbone story, the flood story, everything else - but Jesus hefting that goddamn thing all by himself? That's too much.
I'm joking, I know it's possible. I - God, I'm so fucking sick of explaining myself to people. I know it's fucking emo and cliche and whiney to say I'm so misunderstood, but it's true, man, I am. It's like...there's a gulf between me and everyone else, and my voice doesn't carry right. You only hear snippits and not the full thing.
You know who does hear the full thing?
Lyra.
Lyra hears it all.
And am I really a bitch for wanting someone who understands me? For wanting love and acceptance? I am? Fine, I'm a bitch. There. I'm a big fat pink quivering bitch and I'm never going to be anything else, so fuck off and go somewhere else if you can't accept me.
When he slipped into the hall, he found it empty, the way lit by daylight spilling through open doorways. He heard the TV and sibling chatter; hard to pick out voices when they're all talking at once. Shit, how late is it?
Scratching his ass, he went to the bathroom, took a fat piss (ahhh, better than sex), and, on a whim, hopped in the shower. As he stood under the spray, the water beating down on his hair and sluicing along his back, he did his level best to think of something other than Lyra - of her voice, the way her hair blazed in the light of the sun, the breathy noises she made when he made love to her. It was Saturday, he should do something fun. Like…
Like…
Take a walk? There's not really much to do in a town like Royal Woods. The arcade, but all the games there blew; it's like the owner went to every diner and dive bar along the turnpike, bought the machines no one played, and brought the all together in a place of perpetual suckitude. Mappy and some dumb ass Street Fighter knock off where the characters are literally fat and slow. It was called Fat Fighter 3000 and had the LJN rainbow seal of shit on the loading screen. You know all about LJN, right? You've seen the old Angry Video Game Nerd episodes on YouTube, haven't you? That dude was boss. How'd his theme go? He's gonna take you back to the past...to play the shitty games that suck ass...something, something dump in his ear. Hahahaha.
Speaking of angry, you know who else was cool? The Angry Grandpa: This fat old guy who looked like Santa Claus and threw raging bitch fits whenever shit didn't go his way. In one video he tore down his kitchen because his candy went missing (he later found it on the counter...right in front of his face), and in another he threw hot coffee on his son for posting a video of him online. The son was, like, twenty, and when that coffee hit him he sank to the ground and wailed like a little girl. Check it: He sits there sullenly for a minute after his old man stormed off, then gets us and goes after him. I'm leaving, I'm going to Alabama, you fat of a bitch. Hahahahahaha. A lot those videos were staged. Had to be. Some of the earlier ones, though...like where he's barbecuing chicken and it's all burned and shit, and everyone's making fun of him. He flashes, flips the grill, and goes there's your goddamn cookout. Lemy laughed so hard at that shit he almost pissed himself.
Another thing that made him almost piss himself were the old Impractical Jokers reruns they occasionally played on TruTV: Four dumbasses running around New York City daring each other to do stupid shit. Hey, stick your dick in that industrial fan or you lose the challenge. LOL.
Now where was I with my ADD ass? Angry stuff, right? Hm, I'm not angry so - oh, yeah. The arcade sucks and aside from that, there's nothing to do in this town, not that there's anything to do anywhere. Where am I gonna go, Sears? Taco Bell? Uh...there's really nowhere I wanna go and nothing I wanna do. Tacos do sound good, though.
Then it hit him.
That fucking omelette I wanted! Remember waaaaay back he was trying to get his grub on at IHOP and that asshole Mama Juicy made him order a steak instead? Yeah, well, she got hers; they gave her an IQ test and she flunked so they moved her ass to special ed. LOL! I'm not laughing because she's retarded, I don't think she is - which makes it hysterical. She's sitting in thee probably hating it with a passion. Hahaha.
Anyway, it's fuckin' omelette time, bitch!
Grinning ear-to-ear, Lemy cut the spray, grabbed a towel from the drying rack, and wrapped it around his body. Ome-lette time, bitch! Ome-lette time, bitch! He hummed to the tune of that 'Bright and Shiny' song from Bubble Boy. You know, the one with a mad young Jake Gyllenhaal. There were these cultists and -
Fuck it, find it yourself or don't: To paraphrase Eric Cartman, screw you guys, I'm going to IHOP.
In just his jeans, he danced like a fag down the hall, shaking his hips and throwing up painfully lame jazz hands. People all across the land, come and join our happy hand, always happy never gay, eating omelettes is AOK. Ome-lette time, bitch; ome-lette time, bitch. In his room, he threw on a thin black sweater, shrugged into his army coat, and grabbed a black knit cap from the dresser. How do I look? Omelettey enough for the omelette club? He went to the bathroom and checked himself in the mirror. I look kinda like Country Joe at Woodstock.
Gimme an O
Gimme an M
Gimme an E
500,000 stoned teenagers: OMELETTE!
That or the skinny dude from Jay and Silent Bob.
In his room, he rummaged in his sock drawer for his money, found it, and decided to roll a quick joint before he left. Crossing to the desk, he sat, took out his weed and a packet of papers, and rolled a fat doob...you know, to enjoy on the walk over. Omelettes are best when you got the munchies, mang.
Done, he shoved it into his breast pocket, got up, and went downstairs. Loan, Lupa, and Lyra were sitting on the couch, Loan playing one of those handheld fag games, Lupa drawing and puffing on a generic cigarette, and Lyra being beautiful. She reminded him of that Byron poem he read in English class:
She walks in beauty, like the night
On cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
He sighed dreamily and hurried past before she could favor him with those dark, bright eyes, every cast of which was like a knife in his heart...and the salve that healed it.
In the dining room, Lizy was sitting at the table and coloring a picture of a dinosaur. Across from her was Leia and…
...someone else…
Someone who looked mighty Gwenish.
Lemy's step faltered when they both looked up at him; they wore matching smiles and both had sin in their eyes. "Hey, Freak," Gwen said, "I was about to come get you."
"Me too," Leia hummed.
Lemy felt a little something something happening downstairs, but shoved it away. I don't wanna be a mindless fuck dragged around by his dick, and the first step to achieving that was to be firm with Gwen. I'm not your boyfriend, honey...but we can be friends. "Good thing you didn't, I woulda been pissed." He went into the kitchen before either could reply; he didn't see them grinning conspiratorially at each other.
Alright, he thought and put his hands on his hips, why did I even come this way? IHOP is in the other direction, genius.
I was on autopilot again. Dad does the same shit: He'll be deep in thought and BOOM, down goes Frazier. Turning on his heels, he went back into the dining room and stared for the door, but Gwen's voice stopped him. "Where're you going, Freak?"
"I, uh, I have errands to run," he said.
"Oh," Leia said, "that's too bad, we were going to go to the mall -"
"Nice."
"- with Lyra."
He tensed slightly at the mention of her name. "That sounds like a blast, but I have shit I have to do, so...have fun." His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, but he didn't really care.
Without waiting for a response, he went into the living room and out the front door; the day was blustery and cold, and a wind driven leaf slapped him in the face like a bad omen. I don't need this little girl following me around thinking I'm her boyfriend. It's my fault for doing what I did yesterday, and it's my fault because I'm too much of a bitch to come outright and say I'm not your boyfriend, now fuck off. Okay, I realize that. I just -
He was on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head bowed against the breeze, when Gwen called out. He stopped and looked over his shoulder; she hurried after him, the wind fluttering her skirt. Alright, dude, tell her. Be nice about it, don't break her heart (if she's even really into you)...just let her down gently. I don't feel the same way, sorry.
She came up and flashed a strained smile. "Room for one more?"
Lemy turned to face her. "No, there isn't, I'm...I'm very busy. Plus…"
Gwen's face fell a little, and she glanced hurriedly down at her feet. When she looked up again, Lemy was taken aback by the deep hurt in her eyes. "Look, I just want to spend time with you," she said, and there was a clear edge of pleading in her voice that pierced him like a thousand tiny icicles. "We don't have to go to the mall. W-We can do whatever you want. I don't care. I just want to be with you. Okay?" She reached up and touched his cheek; her hand was clammy, cold. The wind blew strands of her hair across her face, obscuring her begging eyes. "Please?" Her brows lifted and her pupils dilated slightly. He'd seen that same expression from his sisters a million times over the years: It meant she was being open...honest.
She wanted to spend time with him.
Desperately.
A thousand different things made him nod and say, "Okay." The sadness in her face, the longing in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, the fleeting realization that maybe (just maybe) she felt kind of the way he did with Lyra or Lacy, you know, back when he was into her. He wasn't sure, but he knew how that shit felt...and he couldn't do it...he couldn't tell her no and possibly see her cumple from the inside out. Going along with something that you don't want to go along with...man, it's easy to stand back and say Well, ya shouldn't have done that, dumbass, and maybe the people saying that are right, but...he didn't have the heart.
Her smile was like the sun breaking through dark clouds, and she clutched his hand in hers, her fingers weaving through his and squeezing tightly.
Inside, Leia was still sitting at the table. When they entered, she grinned cockily. "Are you finished with those errands?"
"Yes," Lemy said, and looked at Gwen, "let's go to the mall."
Liby lay flat on her stomach, a pair of noise cancelling headphones over her ears and a pair of thick shooting glasses covering her eyes. She was dressed in tight jeans and a red, white, and blue plaid shirt, her hair pulled away from her face in a tight ponytail. Next to her, Lacy wore similar headphones and glasses; she was dressed in jeans and a tight red sweater that hugged her budding form and made it really hard to concentrate.
The butt of the HK was pressed into the crook of her right shoulder, her left hand wrapped around the vertical grip; her holding a rifle made her ten times sexier than usual, and Liby was feeling pangs of desire in her nether regions; if this wasn't so important, she'd mount her sister right here and make love to her until her cries rang through the woods like nymph song.
"Line it up the way I showed you," Liby said.
They were in a clearing serviced by a narrow dirt road three miles northwest of Route 29, just over the Elk Park town line. Densely packed forest pressed in on three sides: Ahead, the Royal River twinkled in the light of the sun, flashes of it visible through a thin layer of trees. You could hear it from here splashing and gurgling like the voice of a woodland elder - all seeing, all knowing, and all disapproving.
Three paper targets - black silhouettes - were lined up side-by-side, a space of fifteen feet between each. On either side was a hay bale stacked with soda cans, each filled with rocks so that the wind didn't knock them over. Lacy pressed one eye to the HK's scope, squinted the other, and regulated her breathing. In...out...in...out...in -
BLAM!
A hole appeared to the left of the closet target's head. "Shit," Lacy hissed and threw her head back in a show of frustration. The wind rustled her pale brown hair and caressed her reddened cheeks.
Liby reached out and rubbed a comforting circle in the small of her sister's back. "It's okay, try again."
Lacy shoved the stock into her shoulder, lined up another shot, and inhaled.
BLAM!
Another hole; this round barely grazed the target's shoulder. "Goddamn it!" Lacy spat and threw the rifle down. She pushed up to her knees and rocked back. "I'm no good in that position."
Honestly, Lacy was no good in any position. Except close. The HKs were military grade and featured a fully automatic setting - meaning that you could hold the trigger down and spray. In semi-auto mode, you got one round per trigger pull. Lacy was good with full auto, but had yet to master the fine art of semi-auto. For the upcoming operation against Montoya, full-auto would work, but Liby wanted her sister to be able to work her way around the rifle on any setting, at any range, and under any condition. Some might say she was being picky, but she saw it as being thorough.
"That's why we're practicing," Liby said now.
Lacy shot her a dirty look, then glared at the target. She wouldn't admit it, but she was nervous, and when she was nervous, she had a tendency to tremble, which made lining up a shot just a tad difficult. She wanted to impress Liby, she wanted to make Liby proud, and the pressure to succeed now was far greater than it had ever been on the field. Plus, when you have a sexy ass girl all stretched out next to you, watching you with big, pretty eyes, you get distracted. Know what I'm saying?
With a sigh, Lacy grabbed the HK and flattened herself into the grass again, legs far apart, right elbow braced against the ground. "Breathe in...hold it...and fire. Don't let yourself get frustrated, if you do you'll spoil your aim. Line the bead up and - "
BLAM!
This one hit the target dead center - not the heart, but close enough that if it was a real guy, he'd be out of the fight. "Good job!"
Lacy's lips curled up in a proud smile. "I got his ass," she said with a happy infection, "finally." She turned to Liby and stuck out her bottom lip. "Now?"
Liby giggled. "No, not yet. I want a headshot and a heartshot, then you can do it."
The younger girl's pout deepened, but she turned back to the target and lined up another shot, her back gently rising and falling. Liby watched and fought the urge to reach out and touch her...the curve of her back, the swell of her butt in those tight, tight jeans...ummm, she was getting wet. Hopefully she would be able to focus during the coming operation; if she didn't, things might get hairy.
BLAM!
This one tore out silhouette guy's throat. "Damn it," Lacy drew and hung her head. "My hands shake too much." She turned to Liby. "How do you do it?"
For a long time, Liby considered her reply. To be honest, she didn't really know how she did it, she just did - the way the artist draws, the writer writes, and the sun also rises. When she picked up a gun, she entered The Zone, and when she was in The Zone, she did a lot of things that she couldn't explain...she could explain the whys (because I had to) but not the hows. Like hand-to-hand. She was proficient in taekwondo, judo, karate, aikido, MACP, and a dozen other martial art styles - she went through a lot of training and while she could remember every lesson, she struggled to pass that knowledge on because she took so naturally to it. To her, it was second nature.
"I just do," she said. "I clear my mind, control my breathing, and - "
She cut off when the sound of an engine filled the day. She and Lacy turned just as a green and white Bronco appeared on the road. Liby's gaze went to the red and blue roof lights, and she rolled her eyes. It emerged from the forest and crossed the clearing, its big tires crunching grass and dirt. Lacy's face paled and sat the gun down. It wasn't me.
I wonder who this could be, Liby thought as if she didn't already know. She slung her own HK over her shoulder and jumped up as Harold Gleason, sheriff of Elk Park, climbed out: He was a short, fat man with glasses and a gut/hips combo that spilled over the waistband of his khaki pants like he was melting. He wore a brown shirt with a gold star over his flabby left breast, a white Stetson, and a pair of polarized Aviators that reflected the world like two dirty mirrors. His corpulent body jiggled with every step and his breathing was labored even though he'd barely gone three feet. He paused by the Bronco's front end and put his hands on his hips. Lacy was getting nervously to her feet now, suddenly very self-conscious about the FN Five-Seven on her hip.
"I should have known the pain in my ass was you," he said to Liby. His voice was an effeminate high-pitched whine that never failed to grate on Liby's nerves.
The trick with people who make you want to strangle them is to be as happy and sweet as possible. 1: It pisses them off; 2: it shows them that they don't bother you even though they do; and 3: By focusing on being nice, you don't have to focus on keeping from karate chopping their head off. "Good morning," she chirped, "sorry about the noise, I was just teaching my sister how to shoot. I hope that's not a problem." She and Lacy were standing feet away from him now, side-by-side, Lacy staring at the ground and Liby at Gleason, her head held high and her chin out.
Gleason turned from one girl to the other, a sour expression on his face. "Well, you see, it is a problem. That thing on your back -" he nodded at Liby's rifle - "it isn't legal, now is it?"
"I can show you my government carry card again if you want," Liby said and reached into her back pocket. She preened as she slipped it from her wallet. "It's signed by the president, the director of the FBI, and the director of the AFT. Pretty cool, huh?"
She held it out.
Gleason looked at it, then at her. "I don't care what you got in that little wallet of yours, I don't appreciate you carrying a goddamn grenade launcher in my town."
Liby gamely returned the issue card to her wallet and slipped out two one hundred dollar bills; they flapped crisply in the wind as she held them out. Gleason glared...then took them and shoved them into his hip pocket. "If I hear one explosion," he said and jabbed a finger at Liby, "I'm coming back and you're going to jail."
It took a lot of effort not to laugh; if he ran her in, he'd be the one who lost out in the end. She had papers, after all, and when someone had the kinds of papers she did, you left them alone or faced the consequences. She smiled prettily. "We won't use the grenade launchers. I promise."
Lacy fidgeted and blushed when Gleason looked at her. "Next time you girls wanna play Rambo, do it somewhere else." He turned, got back into the Bronco, and pulled a wide U-turn, the vehicle shaking and jostling as it disappeared down the road. Lacy let out a pent-up sigh.
"Don't worry about him," Liby said, "he's all bark and no bite."
"Maybe we should go," Lacy said uncertainly.
Instead, Liby unslung the rifle from her shoulder and marched defiantly back to their spot. "We'll leave when I have that headshot. And that heartshot."
Lacy stared at her for a moment, then smiled, shook her head, and came over. Liby was unflappable; nothing, absolutely nothing unseated her. She was calm, cool, and collected in even the worst of situations. It was a trait that Lacy admired...and loved.
Stretching out next to her sister, she wedged the butt of the HK into her her shoulder and aimed at the target, lining the sights with its head and reulatinging her breathing the way Liby showed her. She wanted to make this shot, not for her but for Liby.
BLAM!
The round tore through the top of the target's skull...just low enough to do serious damage if it were a person.
"Not bad," Liby said.
"Does it count?" Lacy asked.
"Yep!"
Next she aimed at the heart and did the same.
BLAM!
A hole appeared in the target's midsection and Lacy hung her head. Jittery with nerves. Goddamn it.
"Try again," Liby said and patted her butt, which made her smile. If Liby believed in her, she cold do anything.
She aimed, lined up the sight with the target's heart, and squeezed the trigger.
BLAM!
The round struck dead center, ripping the heart to shreds. Excitement rose in Lacy's chest and she whipped her head to Liby, light shining in her eyes. "Good job!" Liby said.
Lacy leaned in and they kissed. "Now?" Lacy asked.
"Yes," Liby laughed, "now you can do it."
Lacy's face lit up. She got to her knees, switched the rifle to full auto, and fired from the hip, raking back and forth. Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. The targets ripped to shreds, the soda cans flew back, and bits of hay were blasted from the bales; a few bullets struck the ground, kicking up clouds of dirt. A savage smile touched Lacy's lips and and her face glowed. Liby watched with hazy eyes, spent casings flying from the chamber and littering the ground.
Click-click-click.
Lacy frowned at the rifle. "Sis, I'm outta juice."
Liby got to her knees, took the rifle away, and dropped it to the ground. She took Lacy's face in her hands and kissed her deeply. Lacy kissed her too, and shortly they were on the ground, Lacy flat on her back and Liby straddling her. Lacy's hands were on her hips, and her hands were up Lacy's shirt, kneading her small breasts as she slid her hips; they hot sexes rubbed slickly together, and their moans of passion mingled, turning from pants of pleasure to loud, quivering moans of ecstasy.
And when they came, the whole world heard.
Int. The mall - day.
Sunlight cascades through a skylight window, dappling the tile floor. A stone fountain surrounded by green, leafy plants occupies a wide space. People sit on benches, ride escalators, and browse high end storefronts. A man stands by a kiosk hawking cell phone accessories, and a stone-faced security guard with a bulging gut walks an endless beat.
Lemy walked slowly, his fingers stitched through Gwen's and a strained smile on his face. Her palm was damp with sweat, and for some reason that was the grossest shit ever; he tried a couple times to pull away, but she held fast, like glue, and he eventually gave up.
Ahead, Lyra, Liena, and Leia moved three abreast, their wonderfilled gazes whipping back and forth; kids in a candy store, Lemy thought to himself. His eyes went to Lyra's butt: She wore tight hip-hugger jeans and a purple jacket that, unfortunately, covered the skin exposed by her little belly shirt. Hmmm.
"Where do you wanna go, Freak?" Gwen asked and squeezed his hand.
"IHOP," Lemy said honestly.
"IHOP?" Gwen laughed. "What's at IHOP?"
Leia and Liena went up to the window of a clothing boutique and stared at the well-dressed mannequins with wide-eyed excitement. "That dress is so cute," Liena said.
"Omelettes." Lyra kept walking, and Lemy followed, losing himself in the sway of her hips until Gwen brought him crashing back to earth.
"You're going too fast again, slow down."
Lemy's stride was quick and even - he didn't dawdle like other kids oh, look at me, I'm Lightning Larry Luciano, gimme two hours and I'll be a quarter of the way there. Walking too slow was kind of...uncomfortable. With Gwen playing tag-along-hold-my-hand, he had no choice but to ease up...or else drag her along like a favorite blanket.
Man, I fucked up big. I know trying to make Lyra jealous yesterday was dumb. I was desperate, okay? And when you're desperate, you do dumb things. I straight up said this is my girl, Gwen. And before that, when she said oh, do you want a girlfriend, Freak, I didn't say no...I stuck my tongue in her mouth and had sex with her. I should have said no, I don't, but we can still fuck. Yeah, shoulda, woulda, coulda, now I'm kind of stuck.
I'm not a bad guy, I'm really not, I didn't mean to string her along, I just had a momentary lapse of reason (isn't that a Floyd song?).
What do I do now, though? I'm conflicted. I...look, I know I have self-esteem issues (yeah, yeah, I'm a bitch), so when she says she likes me, I'm suspicious. You like me? You're full of shit, girl, what's your angle? There's gotta be more to it than her being into me. That's how I feel at least, and even though in my head I question it, in my heart I'm certain.
Where was I going with this? Oh, right; I'm not entirely sure she really likes me, but I kind of think maybe she does, and that's a real fucking problem. If she didn't, if she had ulterior motives, I'd tell her to get lost...even as a friend with benefits; I can't do that if she is into me because I know how fucking much shit like that hurts and I don't wanna hurt her like that, man, I don't. I should probably suck it up, though, huh? I'm just not interested in her that way.
Then again...maybe I should try it out, you know? Why not? Lyra and I are never going to happen, so I gotta move on...I can't pine broken-hearted forever. Gwen seems okay. I doubt we have much in common (though that shit she said about Dad had me rolling), but...hey, we're not talking marriage here, just...hey, let's see where it goes.
He stole a sidelong glance at Gwen, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye, her lips creeping up in a smile. "What?" she asked playfully.
She was attractive...and a fucking demon in the sack (like Homer's mom...sigh, another ref she wouldn't get). It felt kind of wrong, though. His heart didn't belong to her...and it probably never would; it would always be Lyra's and no one else's. Isn't that unfair to Gwen...and to me?
"What?" she pressed. She was looking at him full on now, a twinkle in her eyes.
I'm overthinking shit again. I'm thirteen and she's, like, eleven. I need to loosen up. "You're just...you look really pretty."
A blush burst across her face and she giggled, her head ducking and her hair falling across her profile like a veil. "Thank you," she said, "you're pretty hot too."
"Thanks," he said. He was blushing now too.
I can make this work, he thought.
Lemy stood awkwardly in the middle of a fancy women's clothing store across from Hot Topic - Blink 182 drifted to his ears and made him wince; those guys sucked almost as much as Linkin Park.
The girls rummaged through a rack of dresses, each one oohing, ahhhing, and chattering excitedly. Lemy sighed and let his gaze drift to the lacy negligee lining the far wall; man, Lyra would look so good in those.
Gwen took a dress from the rack and turned to him with a smile. "How's this?" she asked. It was light pink with a brown X pattern. Lemy's eyes flicked from the negligees to her and back again. "It's nice," he grunted absently. Her brow furrowed and she turned to follow his line of sight, then smiled. "You like that stuff, Freak?"
"It's alright," Lemy said.
She smirked. "You want me to wear something like that?"
Ten minutes later, he sat on a bench outside the dressing rooms, his back stiff and his hands clasped to his knees. Gwen, Liena, and Leia all took a shit ton of clothes with them and something told him he'd be here awhile.
Presently, the middle door opened and Leia stepped out in a dress with a floral design. She cocked one leg and put her hands on her hips. "How do I look?"
"Good," he said honestly. Leia looked good in anything, though. And in nothing.
Smiling, she turned and went back into the changing room, lifting the hem of her dress and giving him a brief flash of her butt; she smiled over her shoulder bit the tip of her finger between her teeth.
Lemy's dick started to wake. Don't start without me, brah!
For a while he was alone with his thoughts, then the farthest door opened and Gwen stuck her head out. "Hey, Freak, can you come here?"
Lemy got to his feet and went over, her smile widening as he approached. She stepped aside and he entered - like a fly into a spider's trap: She closed the door and thumbed the lock. "How's this?" she asked.
She wore a see through pink thing with a frilly hem that brushed the tops of her thighs. The straps were a little too big, and one fell down her shoulder in a coy but sexy way. He wasn't an expert on women's clothes, but he was pretty sure that something like that came with underwear, but she sure as shit wasn't wearing any.
Lemy swallowed thickly and blushed. "Uh, you look really nice," he said.
"Do I?" she asked huskily.
"Yeah," he nodded.
She strutted forward...and dropped to her knees. Lemy's eyes widened. "Hey, what…?"
She undid the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. His member popped out like Jack Nicholson in The Shining (hereeeeeee's Lemy!). He gaped down at her; she rolled her eyes up and wrapped her fingers around his length. On the one hand….damn...on the other, we're in public, dude; he could hear people talking on the other side of the door, and if someone saw them somehow, they'd be in deep shit. "Gwen…" he said.
She curled her tongue against his tip, and he shuddered. The fires of hell were igniting in his loins and if he wasn't careful they would consume him. "G-Gwen," he said, "w-we shouldn't…"
Putting her lips to his head, she pushed down, her mouth sheathing him. Lemy threw his head back and nnghed.
Alright, fuck getting caught. He theaded his fingers through her hair as she pulled back and stared up at him with bright eyes. "I have an idea," she said.
"W-What?"
She laid her hands on her knees. "Fuck my mouth."
Int. FYE. Thirty minutes later - Day.
Lemy scratched his nuts with one hand and flipped through a stack of CDs with the other; he was itching like crazy because things went a little too far in the dressing room: What started as a blowjob ended with him shoving Gwen against the wall and doing her from behind. She propped one leg up on the bench and bent over, her forehead pressing against the mirror; something about seeing her reflection as he did her was really fucking exciting.
Anyway, he plucked a CD out, flipped it over, and absently scanned the tracklisting. Gay. He put it back and looked up at Lyra, who was methodically going through the F section. "Here you go, man." She grinned, pulled out a CD, and handed it to him. He took it and glanced at the cover.
"Frankie Goes to Hollywood?" he asked with a sniff. "You trying to tell me something?"
Lyra shrugged. "I'm not saying anything."
A few minutes later, he was at the A section when she came over. "I found a couple more things for you, dude." She held four CDs in her hand. He snatched them away and looked at them: Elton John, George Michael, The Village People, and The Culture Club. They all had something in common. Can you guess what it is? "Take this shit outta my face," he laughed. She took the CDs back and stuck her tongue out.
When she was gone, he sighed deeply.
See, man? She was perfect.
Shaking his head, he found the AC/DC row and idly flipped through. Were Leia and Liena almost done at the clothing store? Damn, they'd been there for nearly an hour.
"Hey," Gwen said from his elbow. She was holding a CD with some gay ass boy band on the front.
Lemy almost rolled his eyes. "Hey," he replied.
"Find anything you like?" she asked.
He started to reply that he didn't, but then he saw it: A long box case with AC/DC on the cover in flames. Above that was a picture of Bon Scott carrying Angus Young on his shoulders, Angus shredding his guitar and looking like a man possessed...by rock. BONFIRE the title said. Oh, I heard of this; it has a bunch of rare shit on it. LOL, that's what YouTube is for.
Curious, he picked it up and turned it over. Five CDs, booklet...typical 'hey, look, special release' deal. Gwen leaned over his shoulder, her hand going to his hip and her body smooshing against his. What are they whacking people for this these days? He found the price tag and gaped. "Holy fuck, man, eighty bucks?" He laughed. "Only a real idiot would bu -"
Gwen snatched it from his hand. "I'll get it for you," she chirped.
Lemy blinked. "No, I don't want it, I was -"
"That's okay," she said easily and flashed an encouraging smile, "it's only eighty dollars." She patted his butt and kissed his shoulder. "You're worth it."
Int. The mall. Much, much, much later - Day
Three hours in and counting, Lemy dropped onto a metal bench facing a Forever 21 - always reminded him of the Forever 27 Club. You know, the - nevermind. Gwen sat next to him and sat a bag between her legs: In it was her sexy little pink thing, his CDs, a pair of shoes for her, and a big silver chain with a pot leaf on it that she insisted on getting him. He made the mistake of looking at it too long in Spencer's (I like to smoke but that shit's tacky) and...well...now he owned it.
Leia sat on his other side, and Lyra and Liena sat on the bench behind them. "I got something for you, Lemy," Leia said with a frisky hilt. She reached into her bag and pulled out a package. Inside was a little purple egg looking thing and a remote control.
Lemy lifted his brow. "What is it?"
"It's a game," Leia said. She snuggled up to him and tapped the egg-thing. "I put this in my pussy, and when you push the button" - she tapped the remote, her big blue eyes turning up to him - "it vibrates."
Uhhhh…
She giggled cutely. "It has three different settings - slow, medium, and hard...depending on how much you want me to squirm."
The Log was stirring. Again.
"You can make me cum anywhere, anytime, and all I'll be able to do it sit there and take it." Her lips were against his ear now, her breath hot, her voice slurry with lust. "Maybe we can try it out when we get home."
Making her cum whenever he wanted without even touching her - now that was hot. "S-Sure," he said and grinned, "that sounds hot."
Gwen leaned into his other ear and cupped his growing bulge. "I prefer to cum the old fashion way." She kissed his neck and squeezed him. Leia sipped her hand up her shirt and kissed the other side of his throat.
So much later that the old narrator got tired of waiting and they had to hire a new one
Lemy sat in a narrow picture booth with Leia on one side and Gwen on the other. A screen flashed with text, then the camera whirred into life.
"Okay, Freak," Gwen said.
The screen: 3...2...1…
Both girls turned and kissed one of his cheeks; a little blush crept across the bridge of his nose and his mouth did that cartoonish I'm embarrassed, dude squiggle thing. Next, Gwen climbed into his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and preened for the camera like the cat who got the canary. Lemy couldn't help but smile a little.
After that, it was Leia's turn. She took his face in her hands and shoved her tongue into his mouth. He responded in the only way he he could: By grabbing her butt and kissing her back.
Gwen upped the ante by whipping his dick out and brushing her thumb across the tip. You couldn't see it n the resulting picture: You saw one boy, face red and eyes wide, and two girls staring down at his lap, his sister grinning devilishly and his girlfriend biting her lip.
"Alight," Leia said suggestively when it was over, "I'm ready to go."
"Hmmm, me too," Gwen said and slipped her hand up Lemy's shirt.
And by 'go' they meant go, Lemy suspected.
Young women, I love them
Don't matter if they're black or white
And I'm thinkin' 'bout you, baby
And what we're gonna do tonight
Leia pounced, knocking him back against the bed and caging his legs between her knees; her hands pinned his shoulders and her nails bit into his flesh. She leered down at him with a pervert grin and aberrant eyes. He could feel her heat through his jeans, and his dick jerked against the inside of his jeans like a dog on a leash. She ran her hands down his chest and bent, her blonde hair sweeping across his forehead and sending a shiver down his spine. He threw a suspicious glance at Gwen, who knelt next to them, watching with her hands on her knees and a tiny smile playing at the corners of her lips. Uh...you're supposed to be my girl, right? You're okay with this?
Perhaps seeing the question in his eyes, and loomed forward and planted her hands on the bed. "Do it," she said huskily, "I wanna see you fuck your sister."
Lemy swallowed.
Leia tossed her hair and kissed the spot where his neck and shoulder met. "Hmmm, so do I." She nipped his ear and giggled when he jumped.
Get it hot
I've got the junction, you've got the spot
Get it hot
You don't want a little, gonna give you a lot
Get it hot
Leia's cheek rubbed against his, her heart pounded against his heart. Their hips rocked in time, his up, hers down; he dug his nails into the soft flesh of her butt and she held onto the mattress for dear life. "Y-Y-You're n-not doing it r-r-right," she hitched, "you're t-turning m-me of-off." The way her juices coat his dick and thighs and matted his pubic hair told him that was a lie.
Gwen watched from the sidelines, her cheeks a beautiful shade of red and her eyes hazy with desire.
She wanted it too.
Badly.
He held his hand out, and she leaned in, their lips meeting and their tongues lashing one with thirsty zeal. Leia pumped her hips faster, the collision of their bodies prouding a meaty slap-slap-slap. Gwen threaded one hand through Lemy's hair, and one through Leia's.
Good livin', good lovin'
It's all I ever wanna do
Sun City, moon risin'
I wanna make a mess of you
Gwen was on her hands and knees, her skirt lifted over her back and her bare ass spread for him. He grabbed her hips and jammed his dick against her entrance; she jumped forward and giggled. Leia knelt next to Gwen, running her fingers through her hair and smiling. Gwen looked up...Leia leaned in...and they kissed as Lemy drove himself into her: Her walls caressed him and her heat flowed into him, filling his brain with smoke. He increased his speed and the kiss deepened, Leia rocking and bouncing on her knees and Gwen fisting handfuls of the blanket. She stretched forward, and Lemy's eyes fell on her pretty pink ass hole. He had the sudden urge to touch it, and he did, his thumb rubbing a frenetic circle. Gwen moaned into Leia's mouth. She pulled away and looked at him over her shoulder. "Put your dick in."
She didn't have to tell him twice; he yanked out and held his tip to her butt. She pushed back at the same time he slammed forward: His dick launched into her, and she cried out and bowed her head. Leia, cheeks crimson and eyes sparkling blue, watched with a sneer of disgust. "You are never doing that to me," she said.
Get it hot
I've got the junction, you've got the spot
Get it hot
You don't want a little, gonna give you a lot
Get it hot
Gwen pinned Leia's hands to the bed and plundered her mouth with her tongue. Both were naked now except for their socks; their seeping core ground together, and Lemy gaped like a fool, his chin touching his chest.
Jesus on his fucking cracker, my dude, this is the hottest shit ever. He reached out and laid his hand on Leia's hip, then moved it up her sleek side, his fingers trailing her warm flesh. She pulled away from Gwen and looked at him, her eyes wild and her hair messy. "Get your ass in here."
In two seconds he was flat on his back between them, Leia tongue-raping the inside of his mouth and Gwen stroking his leaking rod. He ran his hand down Leia's tight stomach and followed the heat to her well source; he stroked her with his fingers and she gasped into his mouth. When he pushed two of them in, she arched her back and broke the kiss. "Ooooh, fuck," she moaned, her teeth grazing her lower lip. Gwen stroked faster, her hand making a wet slick sound as it spread his precum along his length. She let go, scooted down, and took his in her mouth, her fingers massaging soft circles in his balls. His face was in the crook of Leia's neck and she was panting heavily into his ear. "Fuck me" she hitched.
Your mommy, your daddy
Told ya 'bout the birds and the bees
Mouth drippin' wild honey
Goin' down around your knees
Leia spread her legs and Lemy sank himself into her with a grunt. She threw her hips up and took him all the way to the opening of her womb; her eyes crossed and her body clamped around him. He drew back and shot forward again; her breathing was erratic, her face burning, her body shaking. Lemy paused and frowned. "You okay?"
"I-I'm cumming," she trembled.
"Already?"
Kneeling next to him, Gwen giggled.
"S-S-S-S-Shut u-u-uhhhhp," Leia winced.
Lemy leaned in and kissed his sister's forehead as her orgasm flowed through her. "That was disappointing," he said.
"F-F-Fuck y-you, Lemy L-Loud."
You got it and I want it
We can make a fair exchange
One body, one dollar
And maybe you can keep the change
Gwen shifted onto his lap and her soft core skipped wetly across the head of his dick. Leia knelt behind her and snaked her hands through her armpits, cupping her breasts. She kissed Gwen's neck. "I have a game we can play, Freak," Gwen panted and swiveled her hips; her lips brushed across his tip, wet silk on burning iron. Lemy squirmed like a broken bug. "W-What g-game?"
Leia was kissing Gwen's cheeks now and rubbing her swollen nipples with the pads of her thumbs. Gwen panted, her eyes filled with lustful abandon. She turned her head to the side, and she and Leia kissed, Lemy's breath catching when he caught a flash of their tongues licking and whorling around one another. They ran their hands through each other's hair, their heads tilting left and right; a long ribbon of their mingled spit dripped down Leia's chin and Lemy bit his bottom lip.
Get it hot
I've got the junction, you've got the spot
Get it hot
Gonna give you a little, gonna give you a lot
Get it hot
Gwen bent over and kissed Lemy's lips, his chin, his jaw, her fingers kneading his scalp and her slick opening playing peekaboo with his head. Leia was behind, her hands gripping Gwen's hips and her core rubbing against her butt. Gwen's eyes met his, and in them he saw a swirling tempest of need. "Pretend I'm your little sister," she breathed, "and I'll pretend you're my big, strong brother...who loves me...and would do anything for me." She brushed the back of her hand across his forehead. "Can we do that, Freak?"
Lemy nodded eagerly.
"Hmmm...good."
With that, she settled onto him, taking his entire length greedily. The joining of their bodies was electric, and both moaned in pleasure so intense it might as well have been pain. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he put his arms around her hips; their bodies moved in urgent unison, her lips on his collarbone, his to the side of her head, the clean smell of her hair pushing him close to the edge. "You're the b-best big brother ever," she mewled.
"...best little...sister ever."
"I love you."
Her words penetrated the fog in his brain, and for the briefest of seconds, he didn't know if he should respond.
But the moment came upon him like a tidal wave and he did because he kind of had to.
"I love you too."
Suddenly, her motions ceased and her walls squeezed him in a joyous grip. A quake ran through her fevered frame and a series of lung ripping exhalations tore from her throat. Lemy's own climax welled up within him, spurred by her shaking/panting/weeping ecstasy. When it hit, he hugged her and thrusted up, sending a geyser of his seed directly into her deepest places. She gave a breathy, protracted "Ooooohhh," and ground her hips against his, her walls coaxing every drop from his balls like a dehydrated woman squeezing the last few beads of water from a bag. Lemy bucked once, twice, three times, his body subconsciously giving hers what it so desperately yearned for.
Afterwards, he lay on hi back, one arm around Gwen's shoulders and the other around Leia's; both girls rested their heads on his chest, both clung to him, their legs hooked over his.
Every man will tell you (or at least every Lemy Loud will you) that the clearest their mind ever is ...is following a hellacious nut. As he lay there cuddling them and staring at the ceiling, he had a revelation, and he turned his head to Leia. "You planned this, didn't you?"
Leia grinned smugly. "Of course I did."
He turned his eyes to Gwen, and her smile was sleepy, her lids heavy. "We planned it." She placed a wet kiss on his nipple and and snuggled closer.
Realizing that Leia planned their little ménage à trois wasn't the revelation, though. If he made it sound like it was, he apologizes. The real revelation was this: There were ulterior motives at play. Yes, he was very well aware that he was the Joe McCarthy of UM's - 57 names, one under every bed and hiding in every closest, but for some reason that he couldn't name, he felt it deep in his marrow.
After Gwen was gone, he would have to talk to Leia.
The brown-haired girl walked home with a happy spring in her step, a shopping bag clutched loosely in one hand and a hazy smile on her lips. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair was messy, and she stank like sex, but she felt more beautiful than she ever had before. As she walked, her thighs occasionally rubbed together, still wet and tacky from earlier, and each time they did, her smile widened just a little: It was a tangible reminder of him, proof positive that this was real and not a dream.
That it was real.
At times, she swung her bag back and forth and hummed a meaningless though merry tune, and at others she laughed to herself at something he said, or a cute expression he made, her boyfriend, her freak, hers...really and actually hers.
Sigh.
When she first saw him over the summer, she was instantly smitten. He was really cute, from his brown eyes and freckles to that sexy V pointing down to his...ummm thing. His appearance wasn't all of it, though; she could sense something in him, something...something that attracted her, let's just leave it at that. She recognized in him a kindred spirit, a missing half to complete her whole.
And that's a nice feeling, isn't it?
For a month she kept her mouth closed even though she really wanted to ask Leia about him. Sometimes she'd walk home with her just in the hopes that she'd catch a glimpse of him through the front window, or maybe even cross paths with him. Finally, she started to drop hints that she was interested in him - subtle ones. So...your brother...what's up with him? Hm, what's it like having so many siblings? Are you close? With your brother? What's his name again? I certainly don't remember from the first time you told me, and I never speak it aloud when I'm alone and shiver because it feels good on my lips.
As September turned into October and the leaves began to change, she went from smitten to plain old lovesick - that hollow rocking and reeling burning up with fever affliction that everyone feels at least once when they're young.
She didn't like it.
At all.
She felt bad enough without adding that to the top of the heap.
At the beginning of the month, lying awake and staring into the darkness, the sound of biting words drifting from downstairs, she decided to go after him. Oh, she was afraid of rejection like everyone else, but when you're in a burning building and you see a big, strong fireman, do you stop to think Hm, if I run up to him for help he might tell me no...I better stay here? No, of course you don't, and that's not what she was going to do. She wanted Lemy Loud...she needed him.
And she was going to pursue him.
The very next day, she brushed the subject with Leia. You're brother's kind of cute...is he single?
Yes, Leia said, but he's hung up on someone else so...you'd be wasting your time.
Oh.
Well...that didn't mean anything. She was hung up on someone else too...kind of...they could just be hung up together. She pestered Leia for two weeks about him and his hang up. Finally she snapped. It's our sister Lyra, okay? We all have sex with each other. Gross, huh? Now leave me alone.
Oh.
Well...that wasn't gross at fact, it was kind of...sweet. Sex is a pretty big deal, you know? You don't just have it with anyone. That's not to say she was a prude (oooh, she wasn't), but there's a difference between having sex and having sex with any Tom, Dick, or Harry off the street. Plus...she actually kind of had an incest thing going on too. Kind of.
After finding that out, she pumped Leia for information, and Leia gladly (and boastfully) gave it: She and Lemy did it a lot and...well...it sounded hot (so, so hot~), but it also sounded really, like, nice...having a big brother to hold you in his arms and love you, to make you cum and feel pretty...wanted.
For a while her lovesickness was accompanied by heart throbbing jealousy. Sigh...if only I had what Leia has. Finally, she wore her friend down. I'm telling you, honey, he's into Lyra. He'll fuck you but that's it.
That gave her momentary pause. She didn't want just fucking, she wanted more.
So…
...she'd just have to work at it. She'd show him she was better than Lyra. She could never be his sister, but she could be everything else - his friend, his confidant, his whore, whatever he wanted her to.
And it was working. Actually and honestly working. For real.
For real.
By now she was on her street, a wide, open avenue flanked by stately homes, some with towers and others with spires. Expensive cars sat in horseshoe driveways, a gray Aston Martin here, a black Bentley there, sitting next to a stone fountain and reflecting the light of the afternoon sun like polished glass. The warm, fuzzy feeling swaddling her began to dissipate, and her stride slowed. By the time she reached her house, her face had fallen into a flat state of neutrality, and her head, held high and proud just one block ago, dipped slightly as if against a frigid wind.
She did not look up at the stone facade or French windows as she dragged herself up the walk, did not stop to admire the vine covered lattice or the Mansard roof. She kept her gaze on her feet and held her breath in dread expectation; one never knows what they'll find behind a closed door, after all.
Today, she found nothing save for the same claustrophobic atmosphere she found every day. She scurried up to her room and shut the door. Good. She could deal with that. It was...other things she struggled with.
That was okay though, because now she had Lemy to focus on, and nothing else mattered. Only him. Her boyfriend.
Her real, honest-to-God boyfriend.