Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Realization
Fang was waiting.
He was sitting in a dark corner of a large room, right against the small closet pushed against the side of Max's room.
He was sitting like he usually was—or had been—for the past five days or so.
Max had told him to never ever go into her room again. So that was precisely what he had been doing. He'd been camping out in her room, in the shadows of the corners, every night—just to secretly piss her off—to show her that she wasn't in charge of him.
In retrospect, it was probably a stupid way of action considering he wanted to fix things again, but he didn't really seem to care or think twice about it.
Honestly, he didn't even really know what he did wrong.
Well, he knew he touched her stuff, but anyone could touch Max's stuff. She wasn't a private person, and no one in the flock was a private person. Being a private person generally defeated the purpose of a flock. Duh.
Anyway, maybe it was this whole puberty thing that was going on. God knows it was wreaking havoc on the flock—obviously. No one could possibly say there were ever this many problems in the flock beforehand, not even when Jeb had left.
At least when Jeb had left, things had gone smoothly and efficiently; there had been some progress.
This situation right here, right now, was just icky and messy. There were a lot of communication issues.
Fang tended to blame all of them on Max. Though in retrospect, he wasn't willing to share a lot of facts himself, though he felt no need to.
So there he was, crouching down with his knees up in front of him, sitting in a corner of Max's room. He'd been doing it every night, since she'd exploded on him.
He'd just stay there, watching her, silently defying her, before he'd nod his head down and fall asleep sitting up too. He'd get up and get out of her room every morning before she got up and go back to his room to sleep well into the afternoon on an actual bed. He did it every night, just to piss her off.
To say, 'hah, i'm in your room anyway,' that was the reason. Or so he thought; or so the first reason had been.
Now.. he was just here out of curiosity.
Because, sometimes Max would tremor. Sometimes he'd observe her.. doing things.
Well, no, it was just recently, he affirmed in his head.
The third night he'd been in her room, she'd.. she'd decided to do.. something.
She stuck her fingers in her pants and rubbed up and down.
But a while later, she immediately got up from her bed, threw her covers off quickly and ran to the bathroom to vigorously scrub her hands with soap. As if she had been disgusted by it and what she was doing.
When she had come back into her room, she had tightly tucked herself underneath the blankets and resolutely closed her eyes shut, determined to fall dead asleep any second.
Fang had found it interesting. He hadn't been sure that day if that was what she had been doing, since all he could see from underneath the dark shadows were the rustling and moving underneath the dark covers, but by the fourth day, he was sure.
On the next day, Max had tried it again. But instead though, she had thrown her covers off and laid up on the bed ontop of her blankets.
For a while, she had just stared up at the ceiling from ontop of the blankets, her hands overlapping ontop of her abdomen, wide awake. Fang watched her curiously.
And then, slowly, silently, her knees came up and her thumbs pushed the waistband of her pajamas up her thighs so that they bunched up on her knees, bent up above the bed.
Her butt and her torso still lay flat on the bed while her knees had been up, the waistband up too.
Closing her eyes tightly, almost timidly, Fang had noted, she began to creep her fingers down to her frisky vulva. The hairs had grown a few milimeters since Fang had shaved her several days over.
Her eyes were closed, and somehow, just watching her, Fang felt himself grew hard in his pants—which was a difficult thing, considering he was crouched over in a corner of the room, Max completely oblivious to his quiet presence there.
Eyes wide, Fang continued to stare, completely mesmerized by the hesitant, timid expression in her crinkled and shut-tight eyelids, her wavering hands.
But finally, they found her vulva, and they probed around, wonderously curiously.
It was very disorganized, unfashioned, messy, pointless—Fang noted, comparing it to that one time he'd seen Brigid touch her genital regions.
She had jacked off herself, Fang knew now, with her fingers. It had felt good to her.
Fang wondered.. if maybe that was what Max was curious about. Probably.
Somehow, it began to annoy him to watch her like that, for so long. Probing, wondering, but doing nothing pointedly..
Especially.. since she seemed so.. needy. She just didn't know how to do it.
And she was mad cause he had made her feel good the few times he'd ever touched her there—feel her, just marginally, but still okay.
And seriously, Fang asked himself, he was being ostracized for this? Because she was moody and angsty and PMS-y because she was angry that she liked what he was doing?
No.. it was because she was confused. Because above it all, Fang realized, Max will still a child in many a sense. And so was he.. he was just more knowledgeable, self-admittedly mature.
Max still needed help. She still needed someone to cry on the night where it got too tough. She still needed a shoulder to lean on, someone to help her cook. All she was good at was exuberating confidance.. the rest.. was up to Fang and Iggy.
He suddenly then, had changed his mind. He was no longer mad at Max, he decided, as he watched her timidly and unassuredly probe and explore her own vulva. Max was just confused, and although she would never learn anything from him letting her get her own way all the time, Fang conceded that it was something he'd just have to do.
He.. he loved her, he realized, because he always let her have her way. He'd always be there for her, at beck and call, and because he tolerated her and her moving feelings.. he loved her.
He was a child, but so was she, and he felt like he needed to protect her.
It was then that he realized the meaning behind all that had been bothering him for weeks prior; wondering about Angel and Nudge and Gazzy, and how he wanted to hold her in the way that he could hold and protect them, but why he just couldn't.
That was the answer: he loved Max. Not as a child, but as women.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to make her feel good. It hurt him to see her cry. It made him ache so deeply, so miserably, inside, when she frowned. He loved her.
That was the answer.
And all this time, he'd been confused about what and why he was feeling this way about her. Why she seemed to be beautiful in everything that she did. Why was it like that? Because he loved her.
He watched her gasp as her finger rubbed over one spot on her vagina, and she ran over it again, seeming to love the feeling. She did it over and over again, until the entire room was filled with gasps. Fang stared on, his face withdrawn, his mouth sullen. His pants were tight, and the gasps weren't helping him, but the realization had just hit him—he loved her.
That was why he wanted to feel her, to touch her, to make her his own.
But that was the problem—he couldn't, and he knew it all too well.
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The entire day afterwards that fourth night, he had been mulling in his head about what to do about her. He wasn't quite sure.
On one hand, there was this deep, burning, intense desire to touch her, to feel her, to make her feel good even also especially because she wanted to feel good (evidenced by what he had witnessed the previous night). It sort of made him feel good to know that he knew how to make her feel good, when she was aching with the need—or so it had seemed last night.
She hadn't gotten there, or so he thought. At some point, her fingers had seemed to have become tired out, but she hadn't gotten anywhere past stark breaths of surprise, discovery, and a mixture of pleasure/pain. She hadn't reached orgasm, he was pretty sure. And no wonder, considering it wasn't an easy thing to do, from what he knew. It took practice, evidenced by Brigid.
But he had done it to Brigid once or twice—sort of—cause she had been very compliable and done half of it herself anyway.
The entire day, he had been mulling it over. He loved her, but didn't want to touch her.
No—who was he kidding?--he so wanted to touch her, but knew he couldn't. His mind was torn.
Cause the fact of the matter was, that Fang knew he had made a mistake. 13-year-olds weren't supposed to have sex. 13-year-old girls were not supposed to have sex. They were not supposed to see or touch hard penises, jack someone off, or play with guys. It just was not right. There was no level of maturity involved in it, and no level of real understanding.
He couldn't coax Max into doing something like that stuff, because it was bad, and he shouldn't be doing it anyway. And also, what if she got pregnant?
So that was the point. Not only were they not mature enough, they weren't old enough, and they shouldn't be doing anything. He shouldn't be touching her in her private places—he shouldn't even be probing her vagina and offering to shave her.
But he already had. And done it.
What was wrong with him? He rubbed his scalp wondering. Oh yeah. He was a pre-teenage guy. That was the answer. A pre-teenage guy whos perverse already sexually active.
One whose living in the same house as the girl he's in love with and wondering how to not push her buttons.
It was hard, it was so hard, especially considering the fact that if he wanted to, he could. Because the fact of the matter, was that Max hardly even really even knew better. If he wanted to, they could be with eachother. Max could do it; he could do it; the situation was totally right; it was totally easy--he could do it.
He loved her out the will of her heart, and that had nothing to do with his sexual curiosity. But the problem was that if he were to act on how much he liked her.. those things might come out. He had no desire to start a relationship that was taboo.
He was trying to establish some semblence of modernity in their household. So what if they were completely isolated from the real world? He, unlike Max and Iggy, was the one who would totally be up for moving into town, surrounded by other people.
In that respect, doing something so awfully unsocietal, like having two hormonal sexual teenagers having sex in the same house and engaging in sexual behavior, would be so awfully unsocietal.
It would defeat the whole purpose and point of everything. Then, they really would be like cavemen.
That was the rational side of things.
The other side of his split mind was screaming at him and telling him quietly, softly, but coaxing him gently into being convinced that it didn't matter.. that they didn't live with the outside world anyway.. that Max would feel so happy, and so good.. that he could make Max feel good.
That the whole point of puberty was to become able to see and feel good.
The other half was telling him that if Jeb were here, nothing like this could have ever happened.
Only for the other side to respond that Jeb is a useless prick, unreliable and completely emotionally detrimental to society, and that they should do whatever they wanted to. Whatever they could.
So that what was going through his head as Fang sat there, on the fifth night in her room.
He had no surprise that she would explore again tonight, probably even more curious after yesterday night had shown her some pleasures and left her completely unsatiated and curious.
Quiet in the darkness, he stared at her and sighed quietly. It was then that she started to slip her underwear down again. She turned her torso to the side to angle her body more, so that her fingers could reach further in, so that her back was facing him now.
He stared at her back dejectedly, his pants tight, but he ignored it as he stared at her.
It was then that he made up his mind.
Quietly, discreetly, without a sound, just like how he had been hiding in her room for the past night without her knowing, he had gotten up and walked over to the side of her bed. Her back was facing him.
And then, alerting her of his presence, he placed his hand over hers, covering her vagina. She gasped loudly and nearly screamed in anger once she noticed Fang, but then Fang began to automatically rub his finger against her clitoris. It quieted her down as her breaths grew deeper and larger—feeling another, more bigger, more concise hand on her vagina.. was different to her.. it was more stimulating.
Fang breathed a deep sigh of relief in his mind as he watched her soothe down a bit, and continued rubbing the spot on her, slowly getting on the bed beside her to get a better angle.
She had never felt his raw hand on her skin there before, not through underwear, not so pointed and threatening.
Watching her face carefully, her eyes closed and XL shirt clad chest heaving below him, he was entranced, but his unemotional face didn't betray him.
He moved his hand up on her vagina to rock her pelvis back and forth and just get into the feeling of things before he slipped his right index finger back down into her vagina so that it kept tight, pressing deep into her clitoris and providing it the friction she so desperately seemed to need.
And then.. then he gently traveled his middle finger down the slit, slowly watching her reaction as he did it. Her eyes had jolted open as she felt it travel down, and her heartrate grew faster and she looked up and wondered where it was going on her.
She strained to look up at him in the eye, he was hovering over her on his side beside her on the bed, but the shadows covered his face.
In the back of her mind, she could distinctly hear his breathing growing deeper and deeper, and although it was no match for hers, it was a large accomplishment for Fang, who was usually as silent as a countertop.
Fang stared down at her, and felt his own heartrate go up as he watched the facial expressions on her face. Almost as if he could feel the pleasure through his own bones. They were have uncomfortable and half straining. And although he never expected it, it was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen—even better than the porn he'd looked at before.
Max's face, Max's face—the same Max he'd known since birth—was contorted in uncomfortable need.. and it was him that was causing it, and it was from him that she needed more and because of him, feeling uncomfortably uncomfortable.
He hooked and curved his two fingers around the side of her vagina wall and she suddenly gasped—audibly, loud, her eyes open wide and she finally looked straight at him to catch his eyes in the dark.
She started whimpering and closed her eyes shut again as she began moving her head slowly from side to side and Fang continued wreaking havoc on the inside of her vagina, curling his fingers up inside her, he watched her keenly. He saw her thrash about on the bed, her waist coming up and down, thrashing about, moving from side to side, as he struggled to keep his fingers inside her, because he knew she wanted them there.
"Stop, Fang, stop—stop, I need to—STOP, FANG," she suddenly started screaming, but Fang knew what she was feeling.
She felt like she needed to pee, but Fang knew and didn't stop. Instead, he rocked her pelvis in deeper, harder, because that was what she needed, despite all her thrashing around and feeling like she wanted him to stop, she didn't. He kept his fingers in and started doing it even harder, nearly even groaning as he stared down at her put all his effort into pushing into her deeper, caught in the thrall of the moment and her passionate ecstasy wreaking out of her and her convulsing body beside his own still one.
And suddenly, suddenly she stopped thrashing, and thats when he knew she had reached it. He continued pumping slowly, watching her chest heaving keenly, riding out her orgasm in his hands, to hopefully extend it longer, until she was finally still, and just breathing deeply.
Her chest was heaving, and Fang stopped moving his fingers in her vagina, still keeping them in there as he watched her.
With his fingers in her vagina, he stared down at her. Catching her breath a little more, after a while, she turned to look up at him too.
After a while, she began to feel hypersensitive of the feeling of his fingers. She felt them in there, still, but remaining there.
The light and the shadows loosened up a bit, and Max could finally look up to his eyes and see the dark shadow of his face. He stared down at her mercilessly, his hands still in her vagina.
"Did that feel good?" he asked her quietly.
Still staring up at him, from her head on her pillow, she nodded, her eyes still a bit glazed.
For some reason, Fang looked away. He slipped his fingers out of her moist vagina, and she felt the presence leave her. And then he looked away, and sighed, deeply.
He knew what he had done, but it had simply had been impulse. He didn't regret it, since he'd wanted to. But.. still. He couldn't help but ask what he was doing.
What was he doing?
In the midst of his thoughts, a quiet voice broke out from the distance.
"Yeah, I liked it," Max said quietly. She was looking right at him, even though his head was turned away.
Perhaps it was just her voice that had resolved his mind, but he had compromised.
It was okay to do this to her. As long as it didn't get too far, and as long as it didn't get too bad.
She liked it.. he liked it.. and it wasn't.. anything bad, was it?
As long as.. they didn't have sex, that was alright.. They were two hormonal kids living in the same house. Not only that, but he loved her. She probably didn't love him back, he was pretty sure, in the same way that he did her, but regardless, he loved her, and they were two and hormonal.
It was okay.. just as long as they didn't have sex.
That would definitely fuck things up.
Surprisingly enough, admist all the thoughts and feeling running through his head that day and this morning, he was too busy worrying about his decisions on the girl he loved, to be even happy that she didn't feel like killing him right now.
He'd come to a decision, that it'd be alright, as long as he kept to the decisions he'd made and followed the rules he'd set.
Author's Note:
Hey. So sorry if this chapter sucked. I havent written this story for months, so like, I'm still trying to get a feel back for it, if ya know what I mean.
Hopefully the chapters will progress in quality as I am reminded of the plot points and major driving substances. I dunno.
I'm actually looking more in developing my other story, Something Gone Wrong, so like, yeah, sorry if this is lacking something right now.
Anyway, I'm trying to go back and remember the plots I had in store for this story, but its hard, cause its changed so many times, cause scenes have run out of my control so many, many, many times. -.-
Anyway.. so sorry for this crappy chapter. I actually just sort of forced myself to write it, I didn't really want to, so I don't think I really did it any justice. Next to that, its completely unrevised, so yeah, no surprise. I don't really know if I want to keep writing this story, and this is for like the 4th time.
Therefore, reviews mean chapters, so I hope you review, and maybe I'll get inspiration enough to continue this story (and actually hopefully continue it well).
hm.. so review.