AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is a continuation of the story begun in 'All I Ever Wanted', and takes place immediately after the events described there. For completeness, I would suggest you read the first part before reading this, it will then continue the narrative logically; it's up to you, though, whatever you choose is fine by me; you're all grown-up's, aren't you?
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Sai Fong Speaks:
So now I had Harry, nailing him after years of chasing, teasing, tormenting, and finally trapping him. So what if he's my half-brother, he's worth it; the poor lamb's such an innocent, he might have gone off with some local girl, someone I knew, that would have been too dreadful for words, seeing him tied-up with some local trull, or worse, some tramp he met at uni, that would have been unspeakable. I couldn't allow that, he's mine, I saw him first; really speaking, that first time, I forced him, but then he didn't exactly fight me off tooth and nail, defending his virtue with might and vigour; in fact, I seem to remember that he had no hesitation about moving in for the kill, so perhaps I got to him just as his resolve finally wavered, his barriers on the way down –precision timing, even if I do say so myself.
Now that Harry and I had slept together, had made love during the night and again in the morning, and were planning how to stay together, my life seemed to be finally coming into focus. I had wanted Harry for so long, tried to break him down by any means at my disposal, and it took an argument with Dad over university to finally catalyse our relationship.
I knew what Harry had been going through with me; I'd planned it, after all, just in case the opportunity arose, but it still took an act of fate to put us in the same bed, at the same time, and like all good schemer's, I took my opportunity to finally make him mine. He'd laughed to hear how I'd prepared for this night, how I'd prepared to seduce him by learning (theoretically, of course; internet porn can be useful, and not just for the obvious) every sexual trick and technique I could find that didn't actually look impossible, disgusting, or required me to be freakishly double-jointed.
So now, what next? We've resolved our living arrangements for the next three years, Dad will eventually come round to see things my way, because I have decided that is the way things should be, and I'll be able to keep Harry pinned close to me, because he's far too delicious to be unleashed on unsuspecting womanhood at large. Harry tells me I'm an amoral little wretch, a distinction I wear with pride, and Dad's going to give in, because he doesn't have the strength to fight me forever; all he has to do is sign the papers, and I'm out of his hair (what's left of it, poor dear; I kept him busy) and officially Harry's problem for the next three years. I know this sounds so calculating, but the truth is, Harry's such a wide-eyed innocent, such a babe in the woods, I couldn't just leave him out there, poor darling, a sitting target, any scheming bitch, someone just like me, in fact, might have snagged him, a thought that makes me go weak at the knees; I might still have to kill to keep him, keep watching the papers. Like I said, he's mine.
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When I ran off to London, I had no plan to seduce Harry (well, not immediately, anyway, certainly not that day), all I wanted was a rational, reasonably well-adjusted person to talk to, Dad was being completely obtuse and unreasonable, and Harry is so sweet, never judgemental, I was hoping that he would talk to Dad, get him to understand I was never going to study nursing, that I was the last person on the planet to entrust with a human life, that I wanted to be a graphic artist and illustrator, and that I'd already been accepted at a prestigious art school. What came after was wholly unplanned (but not un-hoped for, and certainly not unwelcome), opportunistic, and the product of circumstance.
(Poor Harry, he may be a brilliant engineering student, one of the only 12 students world-wide to participate in the Special Engineering Projects programme at his university, one of the foremost engineering universities on the planet, but when it came to girls, me especially, he just didn't have his antennae peeking over the parapet. In our little dynamic, Harry may be the intellect, but I am the brains of the outfit; he needs someone as devious and skewed as me, someone to put a few bends and twists in him so he can meet the real world with a fair chance of surviving it. Let me describe him. He's tall, just over six feet, with soft, dark chestnut hair, always flopping down over one eye, big grey-hazel eyes and long, almost girly, eyelashes, killer cheekbones, and a chin you could bounce rocks off, physique honed by rugby training into something best described as "Phwoaarr!" A proper wet-knicker eyeful in any predatory females' book, as well as the most solid, muscular bum I've ever seen on a man. Ever since I first noticed it, I've wanted to sink my teeth into that bum, just to feel the texture of all that densely-packed muscle! He's so gorgeous it's ridiculous, something he's completely unaware of, thank God; other boys with half his looks and delicious bod are cocky little dicks, but he's so sweet it's worrying; I truly believe that if you sliced him open, cuddly puppies would leap out. His great talent, if you could call it that, is to be diffident, so shy, that he fades into the background, something he does almost instinctively, shutting down his 'me' field so thoroughly that he literally fades from view; the trouble is, any girl who sees him being so unassuming, so lacking that 'cute-guy' cockiness, immediately ticks the box on her 'keeper' list, and moves in for the kill, then stands back in confusion at his complete lack of response, not realising that he's completely failed to pick up any of her 'come and get me, big boy' signals. I was broadcasting those same signals for years, and nothing; it took desperate measures to reel him in, believe me. Harry truly believes that all the big-tit scrubbers hanging around him at uni do it because they're all as fascinated by hard engineering as he is. Any girl who claims older brothers are easy to manage hasn't met Harry.)
When I woke in the darkness that first night, all I was aware of was the nearness of him, his body warmth, the sense of his presence, and then I knew I wanted him, there and then, not just to possess, but physically, to make love to me, to hold me and kiss me, the way I had fantasised for years. I knew he was the man for me, now I had to find a way of making him see that.
My arm was still through his, and with a little judicious tugging, (taking my time, I didn't want to wake him just yet), he gradually slid lower down the bed, from his upright position to a more prone position. At last, he was lying next to me, one arm under himself, the other resting loosely on my tummy. I slowly turned to face him, and his hand slid down and came to rest on my bottom, then grasping my bum cheek in his sleep. I smiled; this might be easier than I thought, this boy had good instincts! My own hand slid around his solid waist, across the small of his back, rubbing at the waistband of his shorts. At last, I went for it, sliding my hand inside the back of his boxers and further down, feeling the solid muscle mass of his buttock, thinking 'Dear God, what an arse, it's like a rock!'
