Exciting
Wendell could remember clearly the first time that he had looked at Darlene and understood that sooner rather than later, she would be his lover.
The idea didn't cause any sort of shock or distress from either of them, nor was it anything they needed to discuss once it occurred, either among themselves or with their family. They already knew that within their family, at least, the idea of being in a relationship with relatives, even brothers and sisters, was not only somewhat common, but was even somewhat expected and necessary. Their parents had made it clear from an early age how few were like them in the world, how they would only be able, most likely, to find a permanent mate among people of their kind, as a "normal" person would not only find it difficult to accept them and fit in with their lifestyle, but would also likely be someone they would eventually find it very difficult to resist attacking, if ever too hungry or overcome with passion.
For people of our kind, they had carefully explained, from the time their children first emerged from their boxes, it's different than for others. It's smart sometimes to find a mate like you, someone who can help satisfy you and take the edge off the strong sexual desires you will eventually harbor…someone who can keep you from making foolish mistakes, in the name of lust. Even if that person is a close relative…for us, it's acceptable. For us, it's okay…and if any of you choose to do so, as long as you're discreet about it, we'll look the other way as you're growing up, and accept it in full when you are adults.
Of course, most of this speech had been aimed at the twins, because they were the only two of their five children that any of them would really expect to have such a relationship. Although the twins had suspected from the time David started to go through puberty that he was gay, Francis and Lenny were too young for this to be a possible pairing, and they all knew that from infancy, the twins had been exceptionally close.
As infants and toddlers they had shared the same crib, falling asleep together sucking on each other's fingers or twining chubby hands in each other's hair. As they grew older they had continued to share a bedroom. Briefly Darlene, as the only daughter, had been given her own room, but as this had meant that Francis and Wendell shared a room, a situation which caused considerable conflict, and Wendell had generally snuck into her room to sleep in her bed with her each night anyway, it had eventually been changed that she and Wendell shared. Even as preteens they had rarely fought with each other, as they did with their brothers, and if they thought about it, they would have been able to remember only a handful of occasions where they were even irritated with each other, let alone angry. Their arguments tended towards verbal banter that they both enjoyed rather than any serious insults or words meant to wound, and any physical altercations they got into, as with their verbal ones, were playful rather than actually meant to harm. They were physically affectionate with each other in a manner they were not even with their parents, and it was often commented on by the rest of the family that they were somewhat removed from them, sometimes not quite connected or part of the larger family circle, as though they had created one where only the two of them had space to exist.
And perhaps they had, in a way. They had known each other better and longer than anyone else, in a way that none of the other children had been able to experience. Having been together at all times, in their years growing in their box, never apart from each other's company, exposed to their older brother and their parents only in the time it took for them to be fed, talked to through a closed door, and provided with items for amusement, they had fostered a trust and dependency on each other that could not have been rivaled by anyone else. For years, they had indeed lived in a world of their own, apart from others, and even once submerged into a larger one, it seemed at times even to themselves that they had never entirely left the first.
They would not, even as children, have been shocked by the idea of being each other's mate or even marrying; within their family, it was almost acknowledged as a certainty. But still, Wendell remembered well the first occasion where he himself was sure.
He had always thought that his sister was pretty, even when she was a scruffy little girl with crooked bangs and freckles on her cheeks and nose. But the first time he really remembered being attracted to her was when they were about 12 or 13, both of them just beginning to develop. It was a couple of years before their first kill together, only a year or two since they had been let out of the box, later than any of their brothers had been. They had suspected by the time they were finally allowed out that if they could, their parents might have kept them contained until they were grown, still not trusting their level of control when in each other's company.
But that day, when Wendell looked at her, he had seen something more than his sister, his partner in crime, even more than his twin, which surpassed both in their view. In some way, rather than personalizing her, as most might when becoming attracted to a woman, he depersonalized her, seeing her instead as a sexy girl- one he was attracted to. One he wanted to do things with, and fast.
They had kissed each other before, of course, out of affection, then out of curiosity, to try out what they saw occur with others. They had enjoyed it well enough, but it had never carried the same edge or urgency that he felt, that he assumed she felt too, when he looked at her on that particular day. They had seen each other naked countless times, had examined and touched each other's bodies, but still, none of it had anything like it had felt to them on that day.
They were in their room, Darlene leaning back against the headboard of her bed with a glass of blood in her hand, and as she took a swallow, then lowered her glass, Wendell had noticed the remnants of red glistening on her lips. Something about the brightness of the fluid on her skin, the faint stain of red against her teeth when she smiled, made a shiver that was somehow warming roll down his spine and settle deep within his gut and groin, and he had smiled.
"What?" Darlene had asked, raising her eyebrow, as Wendell gestured towards her mouth.
"You have blood on your lips."
"Soooo…wipe it off," she had smirked, and leaned towards him, her newly budding breasts shifting forward just enough so he could see through the loose neck of her shirt.
Wendell had started to reach out his hand, but as he shifted closer, eyes zeroing in on Darlene's stained lips, he found himself leaning in much closer and instead licking her lips, a faint flick at first, then more thoroughly. Meeting Darlene's eyes, seeing the open invitation standing in their surface, he had not had to think twice to accept.
From that point, there had been no going back, and as for being discreet, that went out the window once their parents were dead. What was the point anymore?
Every time Wendell watched her hips sway with her walk, her eyes light up with devious glee with her smile, every time Darlene's fingertips brushed against his skin, he felt a fire spread through his body that did not extinguish even when she had pulled away or left his view. When he saw her in the midst of a kill, blood splattered over her face and chest and arms, soaking her clothing to her skin, and smelled it all about her, he wanted to throw her down and have her right then and there, and often could not contain himself from doing so. Killing alone was enjoyable…but killing with Darlene was the most excitement he could possibly dream up.