A Burden Worth Carrying Ch 01

Content warnings: biological sibling incest, frank alcoholism, discussion of self-harm, discussion of suicidal thoughts. The heart of this story is not dark, but it does tread though some dark psychological waters. My aim was not to revel in or fetishize that darkness, but to hold true to the concepts I had for these two characters, and not shy away from the rough edges that might drive two people into a situation like this. Still, if any of that is likely to give you distress, please read something else.

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If you'd have asked our parents, Anna was always a bit of a fuckup. If you asked me, I'd tell you she was just meant for a different sort of world than the one she was born into.

Differing perspectives aside, the fact was that our parents had officially given up on her. She wasn't even welcome at the house anymore, though all of them were real cagey about why exactly that was. When she asked me if she could crash on my couch for a while, I knew that if I said no, she would graduate from quasi-homelessness to the whole 9 yards. She knew I wouldn't say no. So did I.

But it was uncomfortable for both of us at first. It had been quite a few years since we spent much time together outside of Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she had developed a few new habits in the interim. I couldn't tell you where she was getting the money, but I couldn't help but notice the trash can in the kitchen slowly filling up with empty bottles of cheap tequila. She wasn't exactly trying to hide that she had become an alcoholic, not from me anyway. But we hadn't really talked about it, and to be honest, I didn't even know what to say.

It was a few weeks into her sleeping on my couch when I came home from having lunch with a friend to find her sitting on the couch, watching one of the many interchangeable TLC reality shows. This time, however, she turned off the TV when she saw me and stood up.

She offered a pro forma smile and said, "Hey, John. Can we talk?"

If she were my girlfriend, my anxiety would have exploded into panic at such a bluntly serious overture. As it was, I could feel my heart pounding nervously in my ears as I nodded and walked over to sit down in the chair across from her.

"Is your liver failing?" I asked, reaching for a joke and instantly regretting it.

She looked at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. After a moment of collecting herself she smirked and said, "Not nearly fast enough. That goddamned thing is determined to keep me alive, despite my best efforts."

I looked at her sadly for a moment and said, "At least there's two of us working on that."

She sighed deeply at me, almost frustrated. "Jesus, John, can you just be an asshole for like 10 seconds? You know, you are at least two thirds of the reason I just can't seem to settle for a pretty dickhead that treats me like shit. So really, it's two thirds your own fault you're stuck with me on your couch."

I chuckle mirthlessly at her and shake my head. "Thanks, I think?"

She smiled at me warmly for the first time in a long time. "Fuck you, fuckface." It was an idiom we had shared since we were kids. It meant something like, 'I love you, bro.'

"Fuck you, too," I smiled back, the ritual complete. "So, what's the occasion for this ominous conversation?"

"The occasion is, I can tell from the increase in frequency and volume of your sighs and that tilt of your eyebrows that I'm wearing out my welcome. And I know you're way to fucking nice to actually tell me that. Luckily for you, I'm enough of an asshole for both of us, so I can just say it for you."

I shook my head at her for a long moment, a dark chuckle shooting out my nostrils. "I wouldn't exactly frame it like that. But I guess I am wondering if you have a plan? I'm not going to kick you out, but I don't think this is how either of us wants to live forever."

I hear myself let out a long, exasperated sigh as I finish speaking, and grind my teeth at the knowing smile on her face.

"Well, let's be real. Plans are not my strong suit," she sighs herself, "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and half the time I'm so depressed it's an achievement for me to get myself more booze before I start detoxing."

She stares at the floor for a few beats, the bleakness of her admission sinking in for both of us.

"But anyway, I have some thoughts on things that might improve our situation at least. A gesture in the direction of a plan, if you will," she smiles weakly.

I looked at her for a while, expecting her to go on. When she just continued to stare at my coffee table I said, "...and you're being cagey with these thoughts because?"

"Because I'm afraid to tell you," she shot back the instant I finished speaking, "one of the things you're going to be weird about, and the other I'm going to be weird about. So I'm trying to decide what kind of weird to tackle first."

"We both know which one you're going to pick, so just get it over with," I smirked at her.

"Fine," her eyes warmed mischievously, "I've noticed you don't have a girlfriend."

"Holy shit, are you going to start a detective agency?" I shot back, trying to cover my insecurity with sarcasm.

"And you're not very good at hiding your insecurity about it," she smiled even more wickedly.

"So you plan to make the situation better is to make me feel like shit for having a pathetic love life?" I look at her, genuinely confused.

"No, idiot, I'm offering to suck your dick. As much as you want." She stared at me, dead seriousness in her eyes.

My heart stopped and I blinked dumbly at her for what felt like a long time. "You... what?"

"You heard me, John," she crossed her arms under her breasts and sat up a little straighter, "I know you're lonely, and I know you're horny. There's no reason why I can't suck your cock. It's not like I have something better to do, and trust me, men are a lot easier to live with when their balls are being drained regularly."

I stared at her in shocked silence for another few breaths. "No reason other than you're my sister, you mean."

"That's the only reason I'm not your girlfriend already, idiot," she sighed, "look, I'm offering. You didn't even bring it up. You can't knock me up by cumming in my mouth. There's nobody around here to judge us for a little incestuous fellatio. You'll be happier. I'll feel at least a little useful for something. It's a win-win."

"Jesus..." I sighed heavily, completely shocked and confused.

"Look, John, I know you're way to fucking nice and terrified of fucking your life up to ever say it out loud. But I am very familiar with the way a man looks at me when he wants to fuck me. And the hornier you get, the worse you get at hiding that look from me. You aren't superhuman, even if you are annoyingly straight-laced and strong-willed."

"Anna, what the fuck..." I looked at her, a complex mix of emotions I couldn't even begin to untangle vying for control of my face, "...we can't..."

She drops onto her knees on the floor and begins to crawl over between my legs, "Yes, we can, John," she said, her voice quiet and reassuring. My heart was pounding in my eardrums even as my cock began to rapidly harden, the warmth of her body against my legs adding intense arousal to the overwhelming cocktail of emotions spinning through me.

She looked down at the bulge in my pants and smiled, as if she had scored a victory. I felt my face flush even deeper than it already had.

"Right now your body is screaming, 'let her suck your dick' and your brain is screaming, 'no, it's so wrong, she's your sister!'"

She traced her index finger very gently from my balls to the tip of my cock, the room so silent the faint sound of her finger moving across the fabric seemed to echo off the walls.

"Did that feel wrong, John?" She looked into my eyes, searching. She knew the answer, and she was pushing me far past my comfort zone.

"Why?" The word escaped my lips unbidden.

She shrugged, a small smile on her face, "I like sucking cock. I love you. Seems like you need your cock sucked. I certainly owe you for saving me from homelessness. Seems like a no-brainer to me."

I sighed deeply, and she waited between my legs patiently, not pushing any further.

"It sounds so simple when you put it like that," I shook my head, closed my eyes, and tried to get control of my heart rate.

"You mean when I just say what's true out loud?" She raised an eyebrow at me, half a smile on her face.

"All that might be true, but you're also still my sister. You're like, top two people on earth I should not ever have sex with under any circumstances." I shake my head, but my resistance sounds weak even to my own ears.

"I'm not offering to fuck you, John. I'm offering to suck your cock," she corrects me, her face serious.

"Still, Anna, it's crossing a line we shouldn't cross, don't you think?" I asked, searching her eyes.

She looked at me for a long time, thinking. "Maybe in a better world, I don't ever suck your cock," she admits, not sad exactly, but perhaps wistful, "In a better world, you have a sexy girlfriend, I'm a functioning member of society, our parents are decent human beings." Her face turns more serious than I've seen it in a long time, "But you're single, I'm basically useless to this world, and our parents are fucking assholes. I owe you, and the only thing useful I can actually offer you is sexual gratification with my mouth or hands. So I'm offering to be useful instead of just getting drunk on your couch all day."

"Anna, you're so much more than that," I say, tears welling up in my eyes.

"John," she looked down, her tone suddenly measured, "you are literally the only person on this earth that thinks that. And that is why I love you. But you need to understand that the rest of this world disagrees with you. And I need you to understand that sitting here, feeling even more useless than a dumb, cocksucking slut is not conducive to my continued existence, either. I literally cannot get a job right now. I'd rather just kill myself than go to rehab again. I'm not going to last long on the street if we can't make this work. I know it's pathetic. But sucking your dick is something. It makes you feel good. Makes you happy. Makes me feel like I can do something right. Maybe it's the first step out of my rock bottom, or maybe it's the last thing I trip on before tumbling into the next circle of hell. But do you have a better idea?"

She looks at me with soul-deep vulnerability that breaks my heart again.

"No," I say quietly.

She gave me a slight nod, and moved her fingers to unbutton my pants. It was awkward in the way that unbuttoning someone else's pants is always awkward. But she didn't get flustered, and I was too much in shock for helping her to have crossed my mind. I lifted my hips almost autonomically when she finally had them undone and the zipper down. She pulled off my pants and underwear in one decisive but gentle motion.

She didn't look up into my eyes, but the seriousness on her face began to fade. She nuzzled her cheek against my shaft affectionately and was smiling when she finally looked up at me.

"You have a very nice cock, John," she said as she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the base of my cock. She pushed her lips into the tip as she looked into my eyes, sticky precum making her lips glisten, "I never realized you were circumcised."

Before I could muster a response to that strange statement, she took the head into her mouth and began to slowly move her tongue across my most sensitive skin. My head drifted back to rest on the couch, my eyes drifted closed, and a series of satisfied but needy moans escaped from my lips.

She groaned at my response, and the vibration from the sound made me shiver all over. She lifted her head for a moment and I opened my eyes to find out why she stopped. I found her gathering her hair into a ponytail and smiling at me.

"You're really responsive, brother. This is going to be a lot of fun."

The easiness of her body language and the smile on her face eased the last of my nerves.

"You're really good at that, sister," I said, my eyes flicking between her lips and my cock.

She nodded, her lips shifting into a smirk as she leaned in to slowly lick the top of my shaft. "This might be my only marketable skill."

I was too overwhelmed by pleasure and an increasing desire for release to think of any kind of response to that, though it felt like I should have. I was back to moaning for her before her tongue even reached my tip.

"Do you like your balls played with?" She asked, her voice genuinely seductive for the first time.

"Yes!" My answer came out much louder and sounded much more desperate than I intend, and I felt her laugh silently against my legs.

She moved her other hand to cradle my balls and began to gently massage them, taking my cock into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down as her tongue ran across my length.

"Oh fuck, oh Jesus..." I moaned.

"I can feel you getting close, please cum in my mouth, John," she encouraged, her lips brushing against the head of my cock before diving back onto me.

I bucked my hips against her and she let me deeper into her mouth, squeezing my balls harder as she extracted my orgasm, her own moaning into my cock sending me over the edge. She held her head steady as I came into her mouth, my body shaking and my throat making a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan.

She was staring up into my eyes with great interest when I finally opened them, my cock still deep in her mouth. She maintained eye contact as she slowly lifted her head and released me with a soft pop of her lips. I saw her swallow conspicuously as she smiled at me.

"That was really hot. You are very fun to blow," she smiled broadly, and I noticed a flush in her cheeks that wasn't there before she started.

"You're... really aroused from that, aren't you?" I ask, tentatively. Half fascinated by her response, half afraid of what it might mean.

"Maybe you should start that detective agency," she shot back at me, a sarcastic smile on her lips as she finally stood up and sat down on the couch next to me. I couldn't help but be hyper-aware of her thigh touching me slightly.

I took her cue and pulled my pants and underwear back on, mostly to have something to keep my hands busy.

"Don't worry about my needs," I looked over to find her looking back at me seriously, "I don't want you to return the favor, even if you were going to offer."

I nod, relieved and more disappointed than I would like to have admitted.

"It's adorable that you're disappointed," she smiled warmly at me, "but seriously. For one thing, sexual denial is literally the healthiest kind of self-harm I can practice right now. And for another, about the only problem I don't have at the moment is a lack of willing sex partners. I will manage my own needs, brother, you just enjoy getting your nice cock sucked."

She smiled at me reassuringly and placed her hand much higher on my thigh than she ever would have before.

"I was also serious about whenever you want. Say the word and I will suck you off."

I could see she was dead serious about that, and I had to admit it was the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me. I nodded and we sat in comfortable silence for a while.

Eventually, she lifted her hand from my thigh and reached for her cup. I watched her take a drink of tequila from the unassuming green hydroflask, her face contorting a little when it entered her mouth. She set it back down on the table and replaced her hand on my leg.

"Thank you for not giving me shit about the booze," she looked at me with genuine gratitude.

I nodded, unsure what to say.

"I can see it makes you uncomfortable. I get it. I know it's fucked. I just can't really cope with sober existence right now, so it's this or non-existence."

"It makes me uncomfortable because I care about you, and it hurts to watch you hurting yourself," I surprised myself with my own words, finally articulating the itch in the back of my mind.

She smiled darkly at me, shaking her head. "Sometimes hurt is all there is," she looked thoughtfully down at the floor as she continued, "and sometimes one hurt is the only thing that stops the others. I really hope you never have to learn that for yourself. And I'm really grateful that you just give me space to survive even when it makes you uncomfortable and you don't understand. That means more to me than I can really say."

"I love you, Anna," I said softly. It didn't seem like there was anything else to say.

"I know. I love you too," she looked up at me again, a bit of affection breaking through the sadness on her face.

After a moment, I decided to change the subject. "You said you had two ideas, and the other one you were going to be weird about."

Her smile became rueful and she shook her head, "Yeah, I'm going to ask for your help, which you know I suck at. Don't worry though, the ask will make you uncomfortable, too."

"More uncomfortable than my sister giving me a blowjob?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Almost certainly," she smiled, drawing out my discomfort a few more seconds to avoid having to confront her own.

"But anyways, I need your help. Will you help me?" She looked into my eyes, the discomfort evident on her face.

"You know I'll help you if I can, Anna. Do you really have to draw out telling me what this is about?" My own discomfort getting the better of me.

"I know you will, John. That's why I'm so uncomfortable asking. You aren't going to like this, but you're probably going to do it anyway. Believe it or not, I don't enjoy doing that to you. It's just, I don't feel like I have any other choice, and I see myself wasting away here. If I was going to off myself, I would have done it by now. So I've got to figure out a way to exist, whether I like it or not."

"Jesus Christ, Anna, just say it. What do you want help with?" I said, the mystery becoming unbearable.

"It's not that simple. I have to confess some things first, so you understand. I know. Just bear with me because you love me. Please?"

She gave me her best princess smile and I sighed in exasperation and nodded.

"Alright, well, you're not an idiot, so I'm sure you've been wondering how I've been getting money for booze."

I had the sense that a revelation was on the cusp of occurring. "The thought has crossed my mind," I admit.

"Well, I started an OnlyFans a while back. Just lingerie pictures at first, but then nudes, and then I started recording myself masturbating. It makes me booze money and sometimes a bit more, but that's about it."

I stared at her for a long moment. I guess I wasn't completely shocked, given her caviller attitude toward sex and her body, and her seeming lack of other options. But still, she was my sister.

"Okay..." I looked at her, my surprise giving way to even more confusion about where she was going with this.

"I'm telling you that so you understand I'm already a sex worker. Just not a very successful one, surprise, surprise. And I've learned a lot from the experience. I learned I'm pretty much okay with the sexual part. It's the picture taking and texting and marketing that makes me want to jump off a cliff about it. But it occurred to me a while ago that there's other options, so I started thinking about what kind of sex worker might fit me better."

"You're right. I'm not loving where this is going," I said, leaning forward and scratching my neck nervously.

"I know. Be a dear and let me finish before you say anything, okay?" She looked at me tentatively.

"Okay, sorry," I leaned back and tossed my arms, pressing my lips together. She chuckled at me and went on.

"So I thought about being a stripper. But... I don't know. I think I could probably do that, but the idea feels too much like a job job, you know? I think that would wear on me. So, as fucked up as it sounds, I think it makes sense for me to just become a whore."