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-Nine: What He Really Wanted To Do
Fang stood by the side silently in the corner of the kitchen. It was his spot to watch over everything like he usually did. He had taken that role on for his own.
The kids around him were cheering and whooping maniacally like how, well, kids should.
It was a good site to see.. his kids. Thats how he saw them—his flock. All he tried and cared to do was make them happy.
Though recently, these days, his thoughts had wavered off to other tangents as an equally great and thought-consuming priority overcame him. Namely, Max. Namely, Max and her at night.
That awful, painfully conflicting routine they'd gotten themselves into. Though he couldn't complain, as it was mostly on his part that the blame should be thrust onto, it didn't change the fact that on some level, he regretted it.
Max, didn't let him touch her.
Well, yes she did, in the literal sense. But not in the figurative sense.
Their whole and entire relationship that concerned their habits at night, were simply and utterly based on need—her need.
She didn't understand something—intimacy.
Well no. She understood intimacy very well; she understood orgasm very well, but not.. affection. She was not privy to his affections, because she would not let him give them to her.
And he wanted to—he sorely, direly, wanted to. What else did you want to do with the girl you loved? You didn't just want to fuck her senseless with your fingers every night and just leave her on the sheets.
He'd jerk himself off; that, he could do. But what he couldn't stand was how.. how.. detached she was from him.
It pained him on some level. It hurt him greatly, deeply, on the inside.
The love he had for her surpassed mindless fucking. (They didn't even fuck though.. he just.. was a companion at night).
He hated their messed up, sick, relationship.
He hated it so much because it imposed so many restrictions on him.
Though he would always be her right hand man, her dark knight, he hated how much she asserted control over this situation.
He watched her carefully, silently, as she laughed at a joke Iggy had just made. Her face was filled with mirth and the round tops of her cheeks were tinted a light hue of pink in her enjoyment and laughter.
Iggy was standing across from her, two silly cone-shaped hats adorned on each side of his head, looking sheerly but very characteristic of his unanimously dumbass behavior as per his casual seat in the flock. Gazzy was standing between the two of them, wearing a cone-shaped hat of his own, and leaning over the small little round table Fang had set up. The 6-year-old was looking eagerly over the blue and white iced cake standing ontop of it, his eyes alight with joy and mischievousness.
Nudge was all smiles, leaning over the back of the sofa in the living room two feet away from the small table. Angel was sitting beside her, smiling serenely and waiting patiently for Max to cut it.
It was her 14th birthday.
Fang watched over the whole scene speculatively. They all didn't know (except perhaps, maybe Max and Iggy), but he was keeping watch over them.
He did not do it as a simple consequence of responsibility, thrust unto him for being the second-oldest, but because he truly and genuinelly did enjoy watching over everybody.
And he allowed them that freedom—to enjoy, have fun, and be merriful for once without a care—when they needed it. The only reason Max could let go and just be carefree for once with the rest of the flock was because she knew that whether Fang would take her permission or not, he'd be standing in the back, in the corner, his senses tuned to everything around them to make sure they were safe for the passing moment.
It was natural of him; almost instinct, to immediately back away when the flock began to congeal and make one of their unanimous celebrations. Because, of course, one person had to keep watch over the whole entire thing while they had fun.
As for him, he could have fun on his other time—times in which the entire flock was not so heavily unguarded. He would find enjoyment in the quiet moments in which he would spend with Angel sitting on his lap, reading themselves a quiet book in the still of the night on days where she didn't want to fall asleep.
He would allow himself to feel close when Gazzy would come to him for help with something he was too embarrassed to ask anybody else about, like wetting his pants and needing to do the laundry without the others finding out.
He would allow himself his goodnatured fun when he'd be sitting on couch beside Nudge and teasing her on some of her incessant little typical-normal-girl infatuations.
He would allow himself to let go when he'd be helping Iggy with dinner or breakfast, or talking to him about last night's baseball game.
Thats how he had fun. He didn't need to parties to participate in, or group-wide celeberations.
He was more of a one-on-one person, so he didn't really find the joy in hanging up streamers for festive occasions. He didn't realy need to be a part of this celebration, and the flock was accustomed to his absence at these times by now. Besides, he was better off and better needed watching over their entire shinding and making sure they weren't attacked. It was a paranoid little habit, but they knew of the existance of erasers, employed by The Lab.
They were well aware that they technically existed as illegal property that had escaped their cages (literal ones), so it couldn't help to be a little over-prepared at times. Max, on the other hand, thought he was a a little bit too paranoid to think that the scientists and School Lab would come after them to capture them again, but he just shrugged it off when she brought it up and looked past it. He'd rather prefer to watch over the flock anyway. Just to make safe.
And thats exactly where he received his mass multitude of insight nightly. Afterall, keeping watch was a tedious and sensitive thing but he found it a useful skill to be able to multi-task within it. It kept his sense sharp and aware and alert while everything around him moved.
And he could think. Really think.
It was like feeling a zen-state, utter, sheer self-awareness. Pretty cool. Kinda like meditating except.. a lot more paranoid, but whatever. Same difference.
And in the background, while Gazzy blew a loud little party horn in front of her face, Nudge screamed as it furled out right in front of her.
"Eww! Gazzy!"
Angel giggled silently as Iggy quickly grabbed it by fist away from his mouth.
"Hey, c'mon, its Max's birthday today, don't cause any trouble for her!"
Fang almost grinned at that. The chemistry between all of the flock members was undeniable and interesting. And he could always trust Iggy with handling everything.
He frowned at that though. No, Iggy couldn't completely take his place if he were gone.
He looked up to Max, now laughing as Gazzy tried to push a spoon filled with cake into her mouth from his shorter height. It got all over her chin and lips, but she took it in stride and laughed before she licked it all off her upper lip with her top of her tongue.
Fang watched her and somehow felt his throat lose the moisture that so direly defined itself.
His mind now on Max again, he found himself continuing his previous train of thought again.
The distinction between affection and intimacy. That was what she so direly lacked the desire to know. She couldn't distinguish the two. No, Fang amended, she didn't know the meaning of the prior and only wanted the latter.
And she also didn't get that what they were doing was wrong either, he thought darkly.
Max licked the cream off her upper lip, wiping it away cleanly in delight. She loved birthdays—cake, cream, soda, and an excuse to let go for once.
And above all, she was 14 now! That sounded a lot more intimidating than 13 at least. Just another small way to assert power over her five little flockmates for a little while longer.
At least until Fang turned 14.
Then it would lose all the novelty. And she'd completely lose it all when Iggy turned 14 too. But oh well. She still had 4 months of a tiny power advantage.
She took a moment before walking back over to fridge to grab something out of it. She was going for the chocolate syrup. No birthday was perfect without chocolate syrup, right?
She reached the fridge and grabbed the bottle, turning around after shutting it close, but she was faced with a warm front instead of thin air.
Severely startled and completely unexpected, she almost yelped, only to realize the wall she had been faced with was just Fang standing there in front of her.
He seemed to be doing that a lot more lately and it pissed her off. Jeez, couldn't he make noise when he moved? It was goddamned heart-stopping. She was sure he'd eventually grow the power to turn invisible or something one of these days. It was really, incredibly, annoying, and he didn't used to do it before.
She looked up to him agitatedly after being startled.
"What?" she asked, sounding peeved, especially so for it being her birthday.
Fang stared down at her, from his looming height above her (so much for being 14—he was still taller), and observed her calculately for a second. That annoyed her even more for some reason.
For some reason everything he did these days annoyed her, but she couldn't quite place why.
Maybe it was because of all they did at night—he would pleasure her with his fingers, roughly, gently, however which way she liked it (which was usually roughly), and then stare at her in the daytime.
It really disturbed her this way.
Not that she didn't enjoy his company at night, however. That was absolutely not the case.
It was a lot better when he did it than when she tried to do it by herself of course. She knew he did it by himself all the time (afterall, she wasn't willing to help.. at least not after she found out why he had to relieve himself). But there was a certain.. spark when he helped and did it for her.
It felt different. Better. She liked it when he was rough with her. It felt different than when she was rough with herself.
She didn't like it when he got close to her though. Not in the way where he'd rub his cheek against hers. Or touch her a certain way where she was not supposed be caressed—like rubbing her abs softly; that wasn't right. Just get to the point, right? Just get to the orgasm. The whole belly-rubbing, elbow softening, close stuff.. it made her squirmish and squealish.
She didn't like it. Just get to the point. Right?
Besides.. all that.. other stuff, was just meant to turn him on, right? And that was not right. Their relationship was not about that.
She did not want to breed him into a freakin sexist pig. She did not want to indulge him in his desires.
She thought they had a good understanding of their nights. What they did.
It was not about being a sexist pig, it was about, well, orgasm.
He would do it so good, too. It would make her simply unravel.
She even felt quite bad on the weeks where she'd be having her period and he couldn't do it. Though, that wasn't to say that they don't do it while on her period.
But they simply couldn't do it on the nights where she'd have heavy flows, aka the first few nights. Though they had tried before, it just got too messy and wet, and honestly, it wasn't as enjoyable those nights either. They could do it on the later days of the week though, where the blood was less.
She knew she liked it. She craved it. She didn't know much about him, except that he wanted to get closer and that she wouldn't let him. But she knew that he came back every night to be with her, and she enjoyed it, so she continued to revel in the glory of their relationship at night. And enjoyed the orgasms of course.
Though she hated this whole puberty and sex thing, and certainly surely did not understand any of it first, she was now completely, utterly thrilled and happy she had found out about it.
Afterall, otherwise, she would not be able to feel that at night, could she?
He would do it so roughly sometimes. Almost like he was angry and forceful and taking it out on shoving his fingers into her womb as hard and as fast as he could. But she didn't mind. Even if he was getting his frustrations out on his ministrations, at least she felt good while he did it. She even sort of encouraged all his bad feelings to come out at night, if just so that it will motivate him to act that fierce on her again.
Her knees would be up close and tight enough to be touching her collarbones lightly, and the balls of her feet would be below the rims of her buttocks on either side. She'd be sitting close together within herself, her breasts squeezed to be pushing tightly against her pulled up thighs and her body leaning gently on the base of her butt, her feet and legs spread wide apart. Like a ball, but her opening open and clear wide to Fang, who would be thrusting his fingers into her deeply, and looking at her down into face soundly as she'd heave.
His gazes disturbed her, but she could look past them in the thrill of the moment. As long as he was giving her that thrill.
He would pull in and out of her harshly and fiercely until she'd be crying with the efforts, and pleasure, and the pain. The pain and pleasure would wrack through her body fiercely and the sheer multitude of all those feelings and conflicting emotions would just make her entire body quiver in desperation and unadultered confusion.
She didn't usually cry, but.. the sheer passion of those feelings and the desperate need of release would cause her to. She would be so overwhelmed by all those things sometimes, that she just wouldn't be able to help it. Those nights were the best, however. When it got intense enough to cry. To want it so much that she'd come to tears. Those nights were the best.
One time, he was particularly intense, and her passion and pleasure and pain had led her to lose control completely; she had spilled all over her sheets. She had been so overcome by the emotions that she had released her thick nitrogenous urine all over the thin, sweat-coated bedsheets as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of her. It was that intense.
She had been crying, sobbing, as his fingers wreaked havoc inside her.. and she just couldn't reach.. it. She just couldn't control the intensity.. it was just too much.. so she had peed all over him as she felt herself flush so close to orgasm and it was just too much and he just didn't care—he kept on pulling his fingers in and out, even as wide, gargantuan spurts of yellow and stink-filled fluid fell from the small and tiny nub that he saw as her bladder. He had even reached down with his other hand and captured her bladder between his two fingers to slowly and gently milk it out of all its urine. It had turned her on, and the feeling of the two extra fingers on her vagina, one hand pushing into her and gently bringing her to orgasm, while the other slowly and gently coaxing more urine out of her urethra. His ministrations on her nether regions had pushed her over the edge.
She had cried, sighed in desperation, as she had finally released, and his fingers slowly slowed down after making sure she had successfully ridden her orgasm out his fingers. He stopped and slowed down after he was completely sure she had been spent and done.
She had found herself on the bedsheets, wet and sticky, her urine and a bunch of her cum fluid surrounding her. A white, transparent string of thinning cum led from her insides to Fang's two fingers, which were now at least two feet away from her vagina. They stared at the long string incredulously, how they were connected.
Staring at that, she had felt disgusting, cold, and knowing that she was lying in all that as well as piss had made her feel disgusting, but she felt so satisfied, that it was okay.
She wasn't even unokay that she had peed all over herself in release, because he accepted it, and didn't turn away from her as she squirted all over him; his shirt, his pants, and his hands, which were all stained with pee now, of course.
But it had been worth it.
It had felt so good.
So thats what she and Fang had been through.
They had seen eachother at her ultimate worst—overcome, and wrought with complete, utter, fierce desire, even enough to piss. And he.. he was the one who had got her that way. He was the one who had led her there. And held her there.
And slowly milked her vagina out of all it's urine.
That was how close their relationship was. But it was not a close one.
So when he had hovered over her in the front of the fridge and leaned down into her, trying to get near to her, she had automatically and immediately shirked away. That was not their relationship.
But he had reached down anyway, even with all her tenseness and all the risks of potential rejection.
He had tried to kiss her. On the lips.
Like the way he'd seen the people in the movies do it, on tv. Like those starcrossed lovers on tv, and on those channels which and everybody used to just flip past, before he had reached puberty and just tried to stare at it and figure out for once why they did it.
Like one of those kisses, thats how he tried to do it.
He had only kissed once before afterall, and that was with Brigid. A girl he'd met down in town ages ago. Sort of a slut, a whore, but how he'd lost his virginity and how he'd learned about everything he needed to know prior to checking out the library.
So he tried to kiss her. Why? Because he need to let her know.. to show.. how much he cared about her. Because it was her birthday and he loved her and hated their relationship at night as much as he loved it.
Because he wanted to kiss her.
For ages, he'd wanted to.
At first he hadn't really gotten it. He had kissed her on the forehead before going to sleep. Had kissed her on the side of her cheek when she had been crying and overwhelmed and tired and scared after she'd gotten her period.
He'd always had those incredible urges to do things like that. But he'd never really understood why, nor did he ever feel fully sure of himself after indulging in those weird, random, sudden desires.
But now he finally understood. Kissing her on the forehead was not what he had truly wanted to do. He had been half-indulging in his desires. It was a simple action of a minconstrued conception of what he really wanted. What he really wanted, was to kiss her on the lips.
And that was forgetting all that they did at night. If it was his choice, he'd just stop at this point, only because he was sick of it.
But he didn't stop going to her room at night, because she knew she'd hate him for it if he did. It was one of those things he just couldn't stop, only because they didn't speak at night while it occurred.
He was sick of that, really. That messed up, useful relationship, where he could see his desires, and she could feel through her own conflicted, messed up teenaged ones, but it really didn't do anything for him except make him angry. How he couldn't touch her. All it did was did was make him frustrated.
Not sexually of course. He didn't need, desire, or crave sex. If he did, he could just handle that himself.
He didn't crave sex, not now, at least. Not in his entire general situation with Max.
He just craved a kiss.
A simple, kiss.
He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted more. To show her more.
He lowered his lips down to her own and placed them against his and pressed his against hers thoroughly. To see if she'd get what he meant.
Muffled against his chapped, and so characteristically Fang-like lips, she shoved him away by the tight corners of his shoulders. She had resisted from the first nanosecond that he had touched them. Rudely.
"What are you doing?" she said after she had finally got him off. He looked down at her. She sounded enraged. Furious. Angry. Mad. She had pushed him away roughly.
She definitely had not liked it.
The thought made his heart sink, but he could bear through with it, and his facial expression didn't change. He stared through the silent moment with her apathetically. Like it was normal. Casual. Okay. Pretending.
He didn't know for sure if he regretted what he'd done just right then, but he knew one thing: he had wanted to do it.
Maybe just to see her reaction.
But he didn't quite know whether or not to hate himself for it.
A/N:
What do you guys think? D: Have I lost my touch? Should I go back to abandoning this story? D: