Greg was scared. He knew that avoiding his entire family wasn't going to help him at all, and in fact had only served in making his parents worry and his brother angry. But he just couldn't seem to make his legs work; couldn't seem to get up and face any of his family.

Butterflies twisted his stomach aggressively as he lay on his bed in his ever darkening room. They eliminated any hunger he might have otherwise felt, thus Greg skipped dinner and instead curled into a ball and closed his eyes.

The worst part wasn't the fact that Rodrick was mad at him, nor was it the things Rodrick had done to him. To Greg, the worst part was the throbbing, un-faceable shame.

His face burned in the darkness as he cycled through his regrets. Why hadn't he fought harder? Why had he given in so easily? Even as he exhausted the events over and over, Greg could not find an answer. Nor could he understand a growing need deep in the pit of his stomach – a need he was sure had to do with Rodrick some way or the other.

Rodrick's night was just as tormenting. He had some of the most vivid, cruel and dark little fantasies he'd ever had, and that morning woke up practically swimming in his own God damn juices. His hand met with his wild dark hair, standing up in every direction surely, and swept through it trying to calm himself down. Tight fists pressed against his eyes and burned the images of his brother away.

Maybe it wasn't Greg. Or at least, this morning that was what Rodrick hoped. Maybe it was just the fact that he had been so concentrated on his brother that he was simply forgetting about himself. That sounded right; he just had to hook up – fast – and then it would all be at least bearable.

He whipped the sheets away from himself and pulled off his underwear on the way to his shower, teeth clenched against the words threatening to rip out of him. Words of Greg and worry; of shame and lust.

No one had a right to say he was fucked up more than he did. Catching Greg was so much fun, but he had to keep calm and stay on track. The last thing he wanted was to lose control.

"Greg, honey, are you all right? Would you like to stay home from school today?" Greg's mother asked through the bathroom door. Greg swallowed back some vomit as he looked away from his reflection. It was okay. It was all okay.

"I'm okay," Greg answered, but he'd said it mostly out of re-assurance to himself. He was fine – just fine. No bruises, no unwanted sexual advances. What was there to complain about really? So he stepped up to the bathroom door, took one long breathe in, and swung it open.

Narrowed eyes met him instantly. They swept his body up and down, criticizing silently and taking in the pale complexion, the bags under the eyes and the way that Greg literally held himself together –his arms wrapped around his ribcage looking ever still on the small side.

"We're going to see a Doctor," his mother decided, turning on her heel and heading towards the staircase for the phone in the living room.

Greg panicked, somehow under the impression that a Doctor would know he'd been touched. See it somehow like a priest could see holy water on a demon - and know that it was Rodrick that had been the abuser – and then everyone would –

"No!" Greg shouted, running on the only instinct he had which was to bury and hide the shame under mountains of denial and the willingness to forget. He clutched at his mother's arm, successful in stopping her for a few moments. "I-I'm fine. Really. I had a – er – bad day yesterday. I'm allowed one of those right?" Greg didn't care if he had to resort to uncontrollable begging. He'd do it if it meant that he was safe – that it was kept secret. Although he hated to lie, he had to pull it together.

But his mother surprised him by taking both sides of his face into her hands and kissing the top of his forehead. "Go with Rodrick today okay? He had a bad day yesterday too."

His body froze at the mention of Rodrick whose name didn't sound right without the "why" and the "what" in front of it the way Greg had been repeating all night. Greg opened his mouth to ask what exactly his mother meant but then as if on cue the door to the attic opened to the right of the hall and Rodrick strolled out, kicking his doorframe as he went.

The teen scowled having heard everything. "No. It stops," Rodrick snapped. "We had a deal, it's over now. He's old enough to walk himself to school for fuck's sake."

Their mother's mouth dropped right open as she stared at her unruly teenage son. "Rodrick! What's the problem?"

"He's my problem," Rodrick answered, in a voice just barely above a hiss as he pointed a finger right at Greg. "I'm done with him."

Done with? As Greg processed these words Rodrick slammed into his shoulder and hastily made his way down the stairs and out of the front door. The echoing "BANG" caused Greg to flinch. The sound tore at his insides – clawed at him in the nastiest, sharpest way as he stared helplessly after his brother.

Greg did not notice the way his mother seemed to regain herself and storm off angrily into her own bedroom off the hallway.

With or without her presence he would cry.

Rodrick was fuming. The blood under his skin literally boiled as he parked his van and walked briskly into the building. It wasn't anger. It was an embarrassment he simply wasn't used to. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed had been the first problem; thinking about Greg the entire time he jerked off in the shower was his second. And of course his third was hearing his mother's pity party and snapping like that.

Fuck bad morning. It was a fucking terrible morning.

But Greg's was probably worse. He spent the majority of the morning battling his unnaturally aching eyes and avoiding the strange looks people were giving him. Eyes seemed to follow him everywhere and for a minute Greg thought they might have known how he had cried like a baby over his sadistic older brother. That was until -

"Did you kiss Holly?" Rowley asked in a somewhat rushed whisper as they lined up during their Phys Ed class.

Doomed.

Greg choked, finding no voice to save him and answer Rowley's question as the realization hit him. People had been staring at him, not because they knew he'd kissed Rodrick, but because they knew he'd kissed Holly.

The wider boy nudged him. "Greg? Did you hear me? It's just, everyone is saying that you kissed Holly and now you two are boyfriend and girlfriend. Is it true?"

"N-not her boyfriend!" Greg managed to reply as Bryce Anderson left the line to take his turn climbing the rope swinging in the middle of the gymnasium. "I kissed her, yea. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" Rowley repeated. "Greg, you kissed the most beautiful girl in our grade and you're saying its nothing?"

That did sound weird. "I don't mean it like that it's just – "

"Heffey you're up!" Coach Malone shouted.

As Greg climbed the rope he finished the sentence he started; It was just that Holly was nothing compared to Rodrick.

It took a little bit of explaining on the walk home before Greg got Rowley to settle down about the fact that he kissed the once-upon-a-time girl of his dreams. His friend insisted on all of the details, and even covered his mouth with his hands as Greg described that he had rubbed his tongue against hers.

"First base!" Rowley whispered in complete awe.

"Ssh!" Greg hissed, ducking his head in case anyone had heard this statement. He was all too aware of what base he was at, and that was anxiety of a different nature. "Don't tell anyone okay? I didn't do it to have it spread around the school like this!"

Rowley looked thoughtful as he Greg opened his front door. A sickening turn of his stomach overcame him as he remembered he might run into Rodrick; and he must've looked as green as he felt because Rowley turned his attention back. "You okay? And, well you know, if you never said anything about it that means Holly must've."

Greg nodded. He had come to the same conclusion already. Not that it really mattered to him that she told her friends they'd kissed. Hell, there would've been a day where Greg could barely contain such a mammoth secret and would've spilled the beans too. But they hadn't spoken or looked at each other since, so how did the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing come about?

The two set up workstations in Greg's kitchen. With his homework spread out in front of him, Greg was able to push Rodrick out of his mind for at least the time being and hold a steady conversation. As soon as they were done, they were kicked out of the kitchen by Greg's mother so that she could make supper. As they were packing up she set four plates on the table and went to get the cutlery.

It was a sign that Rodrick was not going to be there.

Supper was not important to Rodrick at all. Not when he had this hot, teary virgin underneath him. Okay, so he was being a little rough with her. Usually virgins were his specialty. Something about taking the time to mould them to love sex intrigued Rodrick. But today his instinct was as animal as they came. Fuck. Fuck hard. Fuck fast. And then get the fuck out of there.

She whimpered as he thrust in, relishing an almost unbearable tightness.

Rodrick did not know her name. He didn't really give two shits about her except that she was small and easy, and if he closed his eyes and ignored the breast he was working under his fingers he could imagine the body as Greg's. Weak and frail and definitely not strong enough to fight him off.

"Rodrick..."

"What? "She was ruining the fantasy.

He could feel her scratching his back, pulling him in to ease the pace. The sex was just too rough for her. Rodrick continued to build that climax. He needed to release, properly, and if this girl had to take the place for Greg so be it.

Next thing Greg knew, he was waiting up for Rodrick. He tried pretending to himself that he would just watch a little bit of TV in the living room, but as the hours passed with no sign of his brother, Greg couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the feeling of being abandoned. He couldn't take the disappointment - oh so very depressing because why should he feel disappointed Rodrick was not coming home? He should've been embracing it!

Just as he switched off the TV and stood up, the front door opened and Greg's heart hammered in his throat. A million instincts passed through him. The instinct to run; the instinct to run right now damn it! Yet instead of those things he turned to make eye contact with his wild teen brother who was eyeing him lazily taking off his shoes. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Um," Greg panicked. "I was just watching a show..."

"Really?" Rodrick asked, slipping the shoe off his foot finally. "That's weird. Never stayed up for a show before." Silence. "Were you waiting for me?" Wind up punch to the guts. Greg immediately shook his head back and forth.

"No. I – really – leaving."

The words were barely choked out of Greg's mouth as he turned on the spot and immediately made his way up the staircase, nervously aware of the soft footsteps behind him. He tried not to look like he was panicking, but how could he admit he wasn't when as he turned to his bedroom, the footsteps continued to follow him.

"What are you doing?" Greg whispered, because their parent's room was close by and they were trying to sleep.

Rodrick continued to step towards him; Greg jumped, and took another step backwards. "Hey, leave me alone Rodri-"

The hand was clamped over his mouth so fast Greg didn't have time to act. It was always this way. He was just too weak – never strong enough – as wimpy as Rodrick always said. He physically could not struggle out of his older brother's grasp as he was shuffled into his room and his jaw shoved against the door. "Be quiet, you don't want Mom and Dad to hear. Do you?"

Greg cried out in pain as his hair was roughly jerked. His "no!" was muffled against Rodrick's hands and he whimpered pathetically as a hand grabbed his hip and pulled backwards, bending him.

"Why'd you stay up little brother? Was it because you want to be my slave again? Don't get my hopes up like that."

Greg nodded, unbearably warm and delirious to his surroundings. The hand raked his bare stomach, scratched over his navel, clawed his torso as Rodrick slid it up – higher and higher until it was pooled around Greg's neck. He breathed, panicked, through his nose; mouth still clamped shut by strong fingers. What was going on? What was happening? It was true that he wanted to suck it up and be Rodrick's slave but –

The hand removed from Greg's mouth, who burst out choking in his need for oxygen.

"I – I don't want you to hate me," he admitted. "I only wanted you to like me!"

His belt made a slight "chink" as the metal buckle swung open.

"God you're so annoying. You really make it hard for me, Greg." The voice was all warning and Greg hated that sickening doom; that fear that washed over him from Rodrick. From someone he shouldn't have been so afraid of. "Say you want to be my slave."

"No!"

His jeans fell to the floor as Rodrick tugged them down, collecting at his ankles. Greg swallowed the butterflies back down his throat and hoped they never wanted to come back up again.

"Say you were a pretty fucking miserable Master, and you want to make it up to me."

Greg bit his lip. He gnashed and ripped into his own flesh to silence the urge to call his parents for help. They would definitely help him because, that's right, they always saved him.

"Last chance to say it."

"Fine! Yes, I am your slave. F-for a week only! But none of this!" Greg hissed these words, still terrified his parents could hear them though their entire conversation was low and whispered.

"No. A lot of this."

Something hard. Against -

"Because you are my fucking slutty slave and you are going to endure five minutes of this every day."

Rodrick's breathe was way too hot against his ear. It sent shivers of warmth down his back despite the fact that his shirt was pulled all the way up his body. "But you gotta beg me and say "no please brother" because that is the only way I will be able to hold back and not make you bleed all over my dick, do you understand? Greg."

Greg's head was spinning, unable to think clearly about the situation he was in. Rodrick was definitely rubbing something against his white shorts, and Greg found his mouth was dry from the open breathes he was taking to calm himself down. Just calm down. Just move. He anxiously squirmed away from the solid length against his ass, but knuckles clenched in his hair. His brother was sliding along so slowly it was agonizing holding still.

"What a fucking face." The same ragged breathe in his ear as Rodrick's face was pressed against his cheek. "Do you want me to stop it?"

"Y-yes!" Greg shouted, having enough already. He was going to pass out any second if this kept going. Or at least, that was what his knees told him as they wobbled against the command to "Move!" and the fear of doing so again and getting worse than his hair pulled.

"What do you say?"

"Please brother!"

"Then stay like this and close your eyes."

Greg dug his face into the door, wondering when everything would just stop. Or at least slow down because Greg didn't know what was happening. Was his brother really getting off on him? And why did that excite him so much?

No way. Absolutely – not. No.

But then something hot pooled on his back and Greg's legs shook violently. His heart hammered in his ears as he dropped to the floor finally, knees bashing against the hardwood floor. "Get over it. It could've been much worse."

A/N: Woah, don't know where this came from. Honestly. Truly.

But no I seriously did want to darken the story up, which is why I took measures a few chapters ago to expose a little bit more of a twisted Rodrick. A lot of you are saying you like it this way, and I seriously like it this way, so yea. Gonna continue.

My birthday was on the 27th of this month (January) and someone reviewed mentioning it was their birthday coming up, so I had to sit down and write. Happy belated. Think of it as a present to the both of us from me!

Lots of love once again to you all. Every review you leave is a chance for you to make the next chapter come sooner. So clicky clicky, typey typey.

Calico

OH BY THE WAY THAT MEANS IF YOU LIKED THIS, REVIEW SO I CAN WRITE MORE! TRUST ME I WON'T THINK YOU'RE A PERV I'LL THINK YOU'RE AWESOME!