Always Home

2. Shared feelings. Finding something. A moonlit night.

I woke up late. The curtains were closed, but enough light filtered around the edges to let me know that it was already late morning, at least. Yawning, I slipped off the rumpled bed and stumbled to the doorway.

Elsa was in the living room, standing at the bookcase in blouse and slacks, straightening up the books and adding new ones from the open box next to her. She turned to look at me, a smile tugging up one corner of her mouth. "Hi," she said.

"Hey," I echoed. "What time is it? Marn's gone off to school?"

"Eleven seventeen," Elsa said, nodding at the clock which she'd obviously put up earlier in the morning. "And yes, I got Marn off to school this morning. Then I came back and felt the need to start putting more things in order. And I've been doing it until just this very moment." There was something about her smile that seemed more Elsa than Elsa, if that makes any sense. I stood there, vaguely trying to puzzle it out, as she placed one last book on the shelf and came closer.

"Good morning," she said, and kissed my cheek. "Marnie finished off all the pizza for breakfast, but I can make you some toast if you like."

"Sounds good." I nodded, and started to step past her, only to find her in my way. Puzzled, I looked up at her, but she was just standing there, that smile still on her face.

"Good morning," she repeated.

Oh. "Good morning," I said, dutifully. "How did you, um... sleep?" It was only then that the strangeness of last night hit me.

"Wonderfully," she said.

"I, um..." I floundered for words. She brought a finger to her lips.

"Shhhh. Thank you."

"You're, um, welcome." It was all I could think to say.

She moved closer, and held me tightly. A hint of fragrance washed over me: perfume, shampoo, soap -- who knew? "Thank you," she said, quietly, in my ear. And clung to me. Making me realise that last night... wasn't over. Hadn't even begun. The surge of emotion that coursed through my chest almost buckled my knees.

"I love you, Elsie," I whispered. "Always."

"You shouldn't." Her voice was a soft breeze, almost as if meant to be heard by my heart, not my ears. But it was too late, far too late for that.

She gasped in surprise when she felt my arms close around her. She looked up, almost shyly, her brown eyes filled with light. I pressed my brow against hers, then lightly kissed the tip of her nose. "You can't tell me what to do, Elsie."

"I... I know. But—"

"Hush up." For a moment we just stood there looking at each other. She seemed so young, so alive. The deep brown of her eyes, the small dimple in her cheek, the tiny indentation where she was biting her lower lip. Her lips were a deep pink, not full but not too thin either, and curved in a nervous smile.

"Elsa." I kept staring at her lower lip, fixated. Moving closer, moving downwards, even as she moved up to meet me.

The phone rang.

I blinked, startled, then pulled back. The moment shattered. Elsa laughed lightly, pushing her hair back behind one ear.

"That'll be the phone company; I've been trying to get our service working properly all morning."

I looked down at my arms, still interlocked with hers. "Then you'd better answer it, hey?"

"Yes." Slowly, she drew back, separating from me. "You go get washed up. I can have breakfast ready for you whenever you like."

I nodded. She turned and dashed for the phone. I headed for the bathroom. For some reason, the notion of a cold shower was suddenly incredibly appealing.

* * *

She was off the phone when I got out of the bathroom. With a scarf tied over her sleek brown hair, she was vigorously dusting the window sills. A plate of toast and scrambled eggs was on the counter; after pouring myself a glass of Coke to go with it, I sat down at the dining table and started consuming.

All the while, though, my mind was racing along different paths, far removed from any place it had ever expected to go. The cold shower had helped clear my mind, just as the jangling tones of the phone had broken the strength of that... that weird

moment

(I refused to dignify it by analysing it any further, or attempting to define it).

In cold, purely academic terms, I could tell myself that no, this was just a temporary emotional lapse, and I had the strength of will to resist any further sorties into the realm of... of wherever that particular sortie had been leading. I was an adult, wasn't I? I knew what was right and... and what was wrong, didn't I?

Then why did the thought of... of stopping

whatever

it was that was happening... why did it make me feel so desolate? Why did I feel so alive now, when I thought of being in her arms? When I remembered holding her, kissing her hair. The smell of her.

I watched her, absently, as my mind came to roost on these inexplicable positives. Her slim figure, the way her body moved as she stretched out with the duster, the curve of her buttocks beneath the fabric of her slacks...

Oh God. Oh God, stop it!

I blinked, then lifted my elbow spasmodically and threw the glass of Coke in my face. It didn't help much, and when I'd cleared most of it out of my eyes, it was only to find Elsa there, looking at me in confusion.

"Gerald?" she asked.

"Sorry... um, just a bit of a drinking problem," I said, awkwardly.

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Well, no, but... you know." I shrugged, unable to talk about it. Not until I'd worked it out for myself.

"Oh, Ger, does

everything

have to be sexual with you guys?" She sighed, exasperated.

"No!" I protested. "That's, that's not it at all."

"Really," she said, looking... looking somehow disappointed in me. And that stung. "Well, what is it, exactly?"

"You don't know?" I challenged, and she faltered a bit. Oh God,

did

she know?

"That's... that's not what I'm asking," she managed. "I'm asking what

you're

feeling."

"You're my sister," I said, words springing to my mouth almost without passing through my head, it seemed. "You're my sister. Is it so wrong to... to want to hold you? To want what we had last night, to have you

need

me? To be there for you when you're sad?"

She paused, the look in her eyes profoundly troubled. "No, Ger, that's not wrong. We're family. It's natural that we... that you'd want to—"

"But

you

want it too, don't you?" I seethed. "More than to be held, more than to be comforted -- to be

loved

, Elsa! Loved in a way that... in a way we can't. Loved in a way we can't," I repeated.

"I've been," she said, dully. "I've been 'loved', Ger. Or that's what they told me it was. And there was a thrill. There was... there was the sense of, I don't know, fulfilment. Being possessed. But never possessing. Never holding on, just being held... And last night, you held

me

, but, but oh God, Gerald, I

held

you

as well!"

No. She was making too much sense. She was supposed to be the older one, big sis, the

sensible

one, for God's sake. And here she was, telling me her feelings, and they were mine!

"I... I held you," I said, unsteadily. "You held me. Possession. I... I can't do this. I have to go."

She didn't stand in my way. I tore the front door open and ran out into the sunlight, sprinting down the road as if I could outrun the image of Elsa in my heart. But she would always be there. She would always be home.

* * *

It was a couple of hours later when I re-entered the house to the sound of one of Elsa's jazz CDs playing on the mini hi-fi. It wasn't as loud as I would've had it if I'd been trying to blot out the world, but then I probably wouldn't have chosen anything as mellow as jazz either.

They're writing songs of love, but not for me... A lucky star's above, but not for me...

Elsa was standing at the back window, silhouetted by the cloudy afternoon sunlight. It took me a moment to figure out what she was wearing: one of Mum's old dresses, a floaty gauzy thing of pale greys and blues. It had been more vibrant years ago, of course, but now it was soft pastels; still elegant but somehow wistful, a memory of the past.

It made her all the more beautiful to me.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. She didn't look up, but just remained there: a silent portrait, a moment frozen in time. Silently, I approached her.

With love to lead the way, I've found more clouds of grey than any Russian play could guarantee...

"Hi," I said, after a moment.

She looked up at me then, her eyes red and swollen. "I wasn't sure when you were coming home," she said.

"Neither was I, to tell you the truth. I just... had to walk."

She smiled, faintly. "And me... I went tripping back into the past. Tried to imagine what Mum would've thought. What she would've said. I even got dressed for the part." She raised her arms, as if modelling the gown for me.

"You look beautiful," I said, with only the slightest catch in my voice.

"I look like crap," she said, bitterly. "Like death warmed over, an old lady trying to steal dregs of femininity from her mother's closet."

"You don't need Mum's things to be feminine, Elsie," I said. "You'd be beautiful no matter what you wore."

"But you're my

brother

," she said, her voice sliding into a higher, nasal register. "You're

supposed

to compliment the female members of your family. Just like

I'm

supposed to deny it. What's the use? Do I have any 'charms' to deny?"

"More than I have words for," I said, quietly. But she didn't seem to hear me.

"I guess I... I guess I spent so much time learning how to be a lady that... that I never figured out how to be a woman," she said, softly. "It was always, 'Come on, Elsie, you're such a cold fish'. 'Aw, Elsie, when are we ever going to—?' And so on. And then, when I let someone... And I, I wasn't very good..." She choked, bringing her hand up to her eyes. "I'm a fraud, Ger. You look at me, and you love me too... but it's a lie. I couldn't, couldn't do anything for you even if I wanted to. I can't even do anything for

you

, my own brother..."

There was no logic in it, in anything she was saying. Just as there was no logic in what I did next.

"Elsa." I moved closer to her, then reached out and lifted her chin with my right hand. She blinked at me, the tears flowing again. Then, still cupping her chin with my finger, I softly kissed her lips.

"Geral—" she started, but I kissed her again, gently, cutting her off. Moving forward, I slid my hand around her waist and drew her closer to me. She brought her hand up to my shoulder, as if we were about to dance. But instead, I just tilted my head and tenderly kissed her again, parting her lips with my tongue. She almost pulled back; I felt her body jerk, but then, oh so cautiously, I felt her tongue experimentally push against mine. Then again, slickly but transiently, and then more forcefully. A soft moan escaped her.

She clutched me, her arms wrapping around me and pulling me tightly against her. Her body was warm and firm and velveteen. My hands slid up her hips, possessively, then came to rest cupping her breasts. Her eyes widened and she cried out through the kiss, before managing to recompose herself a little. I caressed her hair, bringing my hand down to the base of her neck and kissing her even more hungrily than before.

"Gerald," she whispered frantically, pulling her lips reluctantly from mine. "Are you... do you really think we

should

...?"

"Who gives a fuck if we 'should'?" I muttered harshly. "People've been telling you your whole life what you 'should' do, Elsie. You tell me. For once, tell me what you

want

."

Again, I could literally see the awareness dawning on her. This was

us

, with no-one to tell us what to do. This was Elsa, and this was me. Her lips curved in a wicked, almost salacious grin, filled with liberation. She kissed me savagely, pressing herself up against me, driving my erection hard against her hip.

"Then

fuck

me, Gerald," she hissed in my ear. "Fuck me the way I need to be fucked."

Hearing Elsie abandon herself to the moment, to the delight in her sexuality, sent a thrill down my back and up my painfully hard cock. I wanted it as much as she did.

We staggered towards the open floor space of the living room, as I fumbled with the sash of her gown and untied the elaborate knot. Finally unravelling it, I drew it off and tossed it aside, then watched as Elsa reached down and pulled the gown up over her head. Her body was slender, with cute little breasts tucked into a blue satin bra. My eyes slid down her midriff, barely lingering on her blue panties before travelling on down her smooth thighs and calves. I pulled my eyes back up to hers, to find a hint of the lingering doubt back there.

"Do you... like me?" she asked, trying not to sound anxious.

Some questions just didn't deserve a response. Well, not a spoken one anyway. Instead I just stripped, pulling my shirt up over my head and pushing down my pants and briefs. My cock bobbed into view, throbbing. She looked down at it, and blushed, biting her lip again. Adorably. My adorable fucking sister.

I grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall, kissing her relentlessly. She squealed and struggled, but I grabbed her wrists and pinned them, allowing me to kiss her at my leisure. Not that I took my time.

"Do you like it?" I demanded, holding her squirming body up against the wall with mine. "Do you

want

it, huh?"

"Fuck me, Gerald," she gasped, then caught her breath as I rammed up against her again. "Please fuck me now!"

I pulled her away from the wall; she gasped and let loose a short scream before I spun her to the floor, catching her just short of knocking herself silly on the carpet. Then I lay down next to her, slipping my hand down inside her panties, the soft warmth of her pubic hair silky against my skin. I dipped my finger into her pussy, finding her wet and more than ready. I looked at her face, wanting to see her reaction. She was biting her lip again, a thin film of sweat coating her brow, but her body was already moving in response to my probing.

I smiled and bent to my work, sliding one finger inside her, then two. She gasped then, her breathing ragged, her hips moving, inviting me.

"So good..." she groaned. "So

fucking

good..."

She made a small animal whimper of protest when I stopped. I slipped my fingers out of her, sucked them briefly -- God, she tasted good -- then moved up to straddle her legs. Grasping the waistband of her panties on both sides, I slid them down her hips. Her legs were trembling; I put my hands on her knees to steady them.

Her entire body shook when I brought my head down and briefly licked her inner thigh. She squirmed and twisted and protested as I moved my tongue higher, up past the juncture of leg and hip, and gently spread her pussy lips with my fingers. "Oh God, noooooo..." she gasped. "Please, noo..."

Ignoring her, I started licking her pussy lips, keeping the pace slow enough not to be over-stimulating. But still, it was distracting enough that she didn't even notice my index finger creeping closer to her pussy as well; at least, not until it brushed with delicious friction against the hard little bump of her clitoris.

"Oh Goooood!" she moaned, her body starting to tremble with the beginnings of an orgasm. I increased the pace of my licking, taking long approaches up from the base of her pussy right up to a final teasing flick at her clitoris. Within a half-dozen strokes, I could tell she was ready to come.

"Please," she whispered, her breathing laboured. "Oh God please, let me come..." But I was already on top of that, so to speak. Fixing my mouth over her swollen clitoris, I flicked my tongue back and forth against it as fast as I could, while lower down I thrust two fingers into her pussy, driving them in and out of that warm, wet hole.

Elsa screamed then, screamed piercingly as the orgasm wracked her body, as she came and came. Mercilessly, I kept up the tongue lashing for as long as possible, shivering the tip up and down and right and left against her clit, prolonging the pleasure.

Finally, though, her shuddering gave out, replaced by only momentary twitches. She let her head fall back and sighed wrenchingly. And then, after a moment or two, her body began to shake again, this time with sobs.

Concerned, I pulled myself up to lie beside her, kissing her wet, flushed cheeks. She smiled at me wanly through the blur of tears, reaching up to caress my cheek with a limp hand. She pulled me down and kissed me, her tongue languidly exploring my mouth, playfully twisting against mine.

"So

that's

what it's supposed to be like," she murmured, as I lay down beside her, head resting on her bare shoulder.

"The other time... he never made you come?"

She snorted. "He probably didn't know

how

. Lucky for me... lucky for me I have you." She smiled at me again, and I felt

my

eyes filling with tears.

"I love you, Elsie," I said, thickly.

"I love you too," she said. Then she lifted her head to look down at her half-naked body. "Oh God, I don't think I can move."

I chuckled. "Then don't. Not for a while, anyway."

"But..." She smiled. "I think I can raise enough energy for

this

..."

Then I felt her gentle touch on my cock. Her smooth fingers playing with the shaft, caressing up and down its length. I groaned, letting the rest of my body go limp. "Oh God, Elsie, that's too good..."

"I'm sure there's something better," she suggested.

My cock twitched in her grasp. "You mean—?"

"Yes." There was a look of pleading in her eyes. "I want you to be mine completely. I want you inside me."

"Oh, Elsie..." I reached out and touched her face, which was still damp with tears and sweat.

"Do it," she whispered. "Show me the way love is supposed to be."

"Oh, but Elsie..." Her face, so beautiful against my hand. My beautiful sister. But still, we hadn't done

that

. It still wasn't as if I'd actually—

"Fuck me, Gerald," she begged. "Please, please fuck me. I love you."

Elsie. I moved closer to her; she shifted onto her back to accommodate me. I lifted myself up over her, lowering myself between her legs.

Elsie. I bent down and kissed her lips, and she eagerly returned the favour. Loving me with everything that she had, every last drop.

Elsie. She closed her eyes, and I reached down, guiding the tip of my cock between her pussy lips. She murmured something under her breath, the expression on her face expectant, exultant.

Elsie. My sister, my love. I closed my eyes, blinking away the tears, and slowly slid inside her.

* * *

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be," Marnie said through another mouthful of half-chewed food. "I mean, sure, classes have been back for a few weeks already, and there's the inevitable 'high school sweethearts'—" She pointed a finger down her open mouth and made gagging noises. "—but most of the cute guys are still surprisingly available. I even found a bunch of other girls who aren't complete nonentities." She frowned. "Not sure how it'll pan out with some of them, sure, but there's potential there. Any more coleslaw?"

I passed the container of coleslaw over to her; she dug the spoon in and heaped another serve onto her plate. Elsa and I had hardly touched our own food; it was all we could do not to keep staring at each other, at the strange, incredible experience we'd found right within our arms' reach.

Fortunately, Marnie was oblivious to anything strange about our behaviour; either that or she was used to us acting weird.