Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was something about the summertime.

It was like there was pollen in the air that turned everyone into a bunch of irate fucking nutcases.

At least, that’s what my coworker said.

“That’s the nice thing about winter, you know? Everyone’s so depressed, we’re all just grinding and trying to make it to spring. Then everyone’s Seasonal Affective Disorder starts improving just in time for them to decide it’s a good idea to go off their meds.

Then, fuckin’ beast mode. Or something. I don’t know how to describe what was happening in the city. I just saw some guy cut someone off, so that guy then drove into oncoming traffic so they could cut the guy off in retaliation. Then he parked his car, hopped out with a baseball bat, and started smashing the shit out of the dude’s car.

And no one did anything! It was like…what’s that shit called? Bystander effect. Cars were stopped the entire block down, the other side was fucked up from rubberneckers, the dude was screaming for help, and no one stepped in until the guy with the baseball bat started chasing him around the rest of the cars.

The only reason anyone even did anything was because they didn’t wanna get their own shit rocked.

Guess it’s a tossup these days if you’d rather get bodywork done on your car or have to pay medical bills. Car parts are pretty expensive these days, but if you dodge collections long enough, you can die and never have to pay up. At least you're alive.”

I took a long drag of my cigarette and nodded, gaze still out on the street, waiting for the next customer to roll up.

There was something about the summertime that turned everybody into fucking nutjobs. 

It was a couple hours past sunset and the air was starting to cool, so I took the long way home, the one with the cleaner streets and less foot traffic at that time of night. There was still some orange and purple in the sky, and I had to admit it was kinda beautiful.

My feet celebrated when I got to my street, but the rest of me—all the parts that had begun to relax on the walk home—started tensing up again. The TV was blasting, all the windows open because the AC never worked, and the piece of shit on the couch who my mom married for some reason I’ll never know was posted up on the couch, dirty shoes on the coffee table that had seen better days.

That’s how most of the place was, honestly. It’d seen better days. Like the times before my mom got a third child in the form of a white dude in his late twenties—seriously, he was like ten, fifteen years younger than my mom and viewed her as a meal ticket. It was embarrassing—and the days when we actually had a cool dad who gave a shit about us but ended up leaving my mom for some young thing. Hell, maybe that’s why mom dated down: she wanted to show up dad.

Yeah, I’m thinking maybe it didn’t work.

“Drew, don’t smoke in the house,” Mom said, sounding exasperated. “If you’re gonna do it, go outside.” 

I gave the douchebag smoking a spliff on the couch a pointed look. She sighed and added, “Jake, go outside to smoke.”

Jake didn’t move. Only sign of life was when he hit the spliff or blinked every few minutes like a lizard.

I went up to my room, kicking off my work boots and shucking my clothes. I headed to the bathroom naked, mostly out of laziness, not wanting to carry my clothes back to my room after I got clean.

I was toweling off when my little sister walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I covered my junk, and shoved my hair out of my face so I could give her a look, about to say something dumb like, ‘Boundaries?’ But she shook her head quickly and tapped her ear, so I listened. You know, a basic survival skill.

Yelling. Something slamming.

“Shit,” I muttered, slipping past Keira and out into the hallway. “Go to your room. Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

She nodded, turned and ran to her bedroom.

It only took me a few seconds to get my sleep shorts on and haul ass down the stairs. Now that I was paying attention, I could clearly hear yelling. Guess Jake got off the couch. 

“Don’t smoke in the house? How many times do I have to tell you?!”

“Your piece of shit kid smokes in the house all the time!” 

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Mom yelled. “He’s just a kid. You’re an adult. Grow the fuck up!” 

“The fuck you say, bitch?” Jake growled. He sounded like a dumbass frat bro—looked like one, too, but more the cautionary tale, like ‘this could be you in five years if you don’t stop partying now.’ “Don’t talk to me like I’m your kid, you dumb cunt!”

Anger swept through me. It was hard not to get pissed these days. Hormones, shitty job, shitty interloper at home, shitty weather. I knew I was on a short fuse, but I still tried to de-escalate, jumping between him and my mom, holding a hand up to ward him off. “Stop, man.”

“Fuck off,” Jake said, slapping my hand out of the way.

“Mom, go upstairs,” I said, keeping my eyes on the drunk asshole. I didn’t even think he knew what he was pissed about, just wanted a reason to yell at my mom—who was also at the end of her rope these days.

Something had to give. We couldn’t keep going like this. It was too fucking hot, Jesus fuck. I should have just come down naked.

“Don’t tell her what to do like you’re her husband or some shit,” Jake sneered. “Always tryna be the man of the house.”

I laughed. “Someone’s gotta be, right?” 

He swung on me. I kinda knew he was going to. He was moving slow, cross faded and sedentary, but I didn’t move out of the way. I was like those assholes driving around with baseball bats. 

I was looking for a reason.

Jake’s knuckles made contact with my cheek and my head snapped back. The guy had some weight on me, so I stumbled back into the wall. 

I heard my mom scream. Guess she didn’t go upstairs. Or maybe she came back down when she heard a scuffle. 

I launched forward and punched him. Honestly, I put my all into it, but when he went down completely, I think that had more to do with the substances he’d imbibed than the actual hit itself.

I shook out my hand, feeling pissed. Pissed that my hand hurt, pissed that I didn’t get to hit him more. Fuck.

“Baby, are you okay?” Mom asked. It didn’t even register that she was talking to me and not her man-child husband until I looked up and saw her staring at me.

“M’fine,” I said, brushing her off when she went to touch my face, wanting to see the spot that was likely already starting to bruise. 

I opened the front door. She asked where I was going, and I didn’t answer, too irritated with the situation, too pent up.

I grabbed Jake’s ankles and dragged his two hundred something pound body across the kitchen tile, then over the scuffed wood until I had him out on the front porch. I shut and locked the door, then I went upstairs, grabbing as much of his shit as I could find. 

Mom followed me. She was talking to me, but I was ignoring her.

“...are you doing? You can’t…” 

I pushed past her and jogged down the stairs, opening the door and throwing his shit out on top of him. I locked the door again and did a walkthrough, grabbing any other shit of his I found. He hadn’t had much. He’d bought the gaming system, but fucked if I was gonna give it back, especially since it was my mom’s money that paid for it.

“...this is my house, Drew!”

I whirled on my mom. “No, this is our house. You brought that sack of shit into our family. You watched him talk shit to me, you saw him watching Keira like he couldn’t wait to get her alone. You gave him our money that could have gone to repairs, and now our house is falling apart, we’re behind on bills, and you keep letting him act like a bum, so he’s gonna keep being a fucking bum!”

Mom looked taken aback. Not necessarily hurt, just surprised. “You can’t talk to me like that,” she finally said. Not really sounding like she believed it. “I’m your mother.”

I was already shaking my head before she finished speaking. “You’re no one’s mother except the bastard taking a nap on the porch. You wanna be treated like shit, that’s fine, but until you start stepping up and making better choices, I’m taking over. I’m already basically Keira's dad.” 

Mom flinched like that was too far. That out of every shitty, neglectful choice she’d made up to that point wasn’t enough of a wakeup call, and I had to be the one to tell her. Hell, maybe she really had been in denial.

I let out a breath, pinching the bridge of my nose, feeling a thousand years old all of a sudden. I dropped my hand and saw her still watching me. We were standing close, her hand hovering in the air like she wanted to touch my face, to feel my cheek.

I grabbed her wrist and brought it to my face in a gentle hold, but it only made her eyes well up with tears. God, she was so beautiful, even when she cried. She could have anyone, and she picked a bum. Married a bum in a long line of bums.

“Look, just…don’t let him back in tonight, okay? Let us have one night of peace.”

She nodded, the movement finally making the tears fall. I reached up and thumbed them away, and she swayed closer. I kissed her cheek, lips hovering there. I wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t sorry, and I wasn’t a liar.

“I love you,” I said instead. 

“Oh, baby,” she murmured. “I love you, too.”

Somehow, our arms were around each other. It had been a while since we’d hugged, and this…wasn’t really one. It was a lovers embrace, bodies pressed together and faces hovering close. I could tell that she wasn’t fully in control, and I sure as fuck wasn’t, still overheated and pent up and full of rage that I didn’t have an opportunity to get out.

So I kissed her.

I fucking kissed my mom on the fucking mouth. And it wasn’t chaste, either. Our lips touched and she let out this soft little gasp of surprise, then I was grabbing her face and angling her head back, slipping her my tongue and getting a taste of her mouth. She was sweet. Soft. Needy. Hungry.

We made out for a while. I backed her up against the wall and pressed my hips against hers, rubbing my erection against her sex. I was in nothing but a thin pair of shorts and she was only wearing an oversized T-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. 

I wasn’t thinking with my big brain anymore. I was thinking with my little brain. And my little brain wanted to fuck my mom, deposit my load into the cunt that made me.

My hands drifted down her back and over her ass, reaching her thighs and pulling her up until she was wrapping her legs around my waist and I was carrying her to the kitchen counter. Our kisses became frenzied and rushed, and we were both panting. 

I was grinding my cock into her heat, and the barrier suddenly became too much. Skipping foreplay, I tugged her panties aside and pulled down my pants, sliding my fingers through her folds to make sure she was ready. She was dripping wet. 

I pressed inside of her. Her heat enveloped me, and the house was goddamn hot, and we were both sweating, but I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to fuck. I wanted to fuck my mom, make her forget about that abusive fuckhead so she could only focus on me, on Keira, on her kids. And maybe this wasn’t the best way to go about it, but I didn’t care. I was done putting up with shit. I was the man of the house. 

Mom moaned and cried out, but I swallowed her ecstasy, using my grip in her hair to force her head this way and that, to control her exactly how I wanted to.

If I knew it would be this easy, I would have done this years ago. I don’t think she would have been ready for me then, though. I don’t think either of us were.

I felt her shake through an orgasm, gushing slick around my cock, before flipping her over so she was laid out over the counter, lifting her hips and tilting her just how I wanted her before slamming back into her. I brought a hand around her hip to her clit, forcing another orgasm out of her before I finally let myself go, pumping my potent teenage spunk into her womb.

I let myself collapse partially, putting some of my weight on her but mostly keeping myself up on my elbows—which was a feat given how sweaty my arms were, Jesus. Mom was still shaking through that last orgasm, and I buried my face in her neck, breathing her in. I’ve always loved the way she smells, and the ripeness that came with the heat didn’t do anything to diminish that. 

“Drew…” she murmured.

I just pressed my forehead to her shoulder. I know, I thought.

This was a temporary solution. Especially when I heard a gasp from the stairs. When I turned to look, I saw a small body racing to the top.

Shit.

Keira.

Chapter Text

My softening cock slipped out of Mom’s wet pussy, and I allowed myself a moment to watch my cum dribble from her stretched hole. I wasn’t massive, but I wasn’t small, and from the way she was losing her mind and squeezing the fuck out of me, it was a pretty safe bet that i was bigger than her husband.

Damage done, I used my index and middle fingers to scoop some of the jizz from her taint and push it back into her. “Drew,” she complained, giving me a reproachful look over her shoulder.

I smirked and shrugged. “It’s not going deeper than my cock.”

Her brow pinched, and my lips pressed into a line. I said, “I can grab you Plan B tomorrow. Kip sells it at the Flea Market.” It was called the Flea Market because the service van Kip sold boosted goods out of doubled as a mobile dog washing business when it wasn’t hijacking trucks.

“I can give you money,” she said, not making eye contact as she yanked up her panties—not bothering to wipe up the cum first, which, unfortunately, turned me on—and tugged down her oversized tee.

“It’s marked down,” I objected. “Besides, it’s my mess.”

Mom winced.

“I gotta check on Keira,” I added, situating myself in my shorts and backing towards the stairs. “Keep the doors and windows locked.” 

Mom looked like she wanted to argue, maybe check on Keira instead, but she deflated. “Fine.”

As I headed up the stairs, I wondered if I’d been too hard on her. Just because I hadn’t lied didn’t mean I had to tell her the truth—that she hadn’t been showing up for her kids. Hell, she’d just let her kid fuck her—not that I’d begrudge her that. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t sometimes get so frustrated with my mom that I wanted to throw her down and fuck her. And I figure that’s probably not a normal reaction a kid has to their parents.

Jake, on the other hand, I wanted to do worse things to, not a lot of them sexual. I wasn’t about to consider a guy less than ten years older who I’d only known a few months my dad, though. 

“Keir?” I called, tapping on Keira’s door lightly. No answer, so I tried the handle. Locked. “Keira,” I repeated, trying not to lose patience. Nutting in a pussy could only do so much on a shitty night, no matter whose it was. “C’mon, kid, let me in.”

I heard the door unlock, and I opened it before she could change her mind. She was already sitting back on her bed, legs crossed, dressed similarly to our mom—which was to say not much.

“Hey,” I greeted, crossing the room and taking a seat at my old desk chair from before I’d upgraded. Keira looked like she was bracing herself for something, but I wasn’t sure what. “He’s gone. I kicked him out.”

“She’s gonna let him back in,” Keira mumbled, ducking her head. Sandy hair covered her face, and I scooted closer, reaching out and tugging her hair behind her ear. I noticed halfway through the motion that both hands had sex secretions on them, but I figured aborting the movement would wouldn’t be worth the hurt it would cause…or the uncomfortable conversation that I feared was inevitable. Keira didn’t seem to notice. 

“If she does, I’ll get rid of him,” I promised. “Why’d you come downstairs?”

Keira shrugged, arms still wrapped around her knees. She was in the middle of a growth spurt, which left her with gangly limbs, tan from playing outside, sun streaks in her hair. She was pretty. “It got quiet. I got worried.”

“I appreciate that, but next time, I need you to listen to me. If things go bad, you could get hurt.”

Keira didn’t look happy with that answer. “What were you doing with mom? It looked…” Her cheeks tinged pink, and I grimaced. “It looked…dirty.” 

“Adult stuff,” I replied vaguely, sparing us both. “Stuff a kid shouldn’t worry about.”

“I’m twelve,” she replied, annoyed. At least she’d stopped hugging her legs defensively, though she looked grumpy as hell. “Mia said that she and her dad do sex stuff, so I know it happens.”

My brows shot up. “Mia Bellardy?” 

“Yeah,” Keira confirmed. “She said they’ve been doing stuff since she was like…still a baby.”

My lip curled in disgust. “Jesus, Keira. You know that’s fucked up, right?”

Keira flipped her hair in the way only a preteen can, communicating my immense inferiority. “She says she likes it.”

I found myself pinching the bridge of my nose again, catching a whiff of my mom’s cunt and fighting the urge to find her and fuck her again, just to get out more of the mounting frustration. “We’re gonna talk about this more later. Her dad shouldn’t be fucking his kid. That’s incest, and it’s molestation, and rape—” 

I was cut off when Keira went up to her knees, arms crossed over her small chest, expression stormy. “I only told you because you and mom were doing the same thing!”

“Keira,” I groaned, losing patience. “It’s not the same thing! Listen, I need you to keep this to yourself, okay? Don’t tell Mia Bellardy or her dad or any of your little friends or teachers. This is family stuff, okay?” 

She flopped back on her bed, starfishing, making her shirt ride up and reveal her small pink panties, letting out a big huff. “Ugh, I won’t.”

Great, now we were both annoyed.

I stood, planting a hand on the bed next to her, and leaning over her so our eyes could meet. “Hey,” I said, forcing my expression to remain stern even though she was being kind of adorable. The corners of her lips began to twitch. Sensing victory, I closed the distance a bit and scrunched up my face in a dramatic frown until she smiled and giggled. “Gotcha!” I crowed, going in for the kill, digging my fingers into her sides until she was kicking her feet and screeching for mercy.

I flopped down on the full bed next to her, me in just my shorts and her in the big T-shirt, as we caught our breath. 

“I’m sorry that things have been shitty, Keir,” I said quietly, still staring at the ceiling. There were little stars up there, glowing faintly, that I'd done my best to form accurately into constellations a few years ago. Somehow, they hadn’t fallen off yet. 

“It’s not your fault,” she murmured, rolling and curling up into my side.

I wrapped my arm around her, and we stayed like that for a while.

Chapter Text

Mom popped her head in the open doorway sometime later. Keira had been out for a while, but I hadn’t moved yet, just contemplating my shitty existence. It wasn’t all that bad, honestly, but despite being a pretty responsible seventeen-year-old, I still had a propensity for pointless self-rumination.

I had a job at the garage. School wasn’t bad; at least, not when I actually showed up. Truancy was an issue, but the bright side of going to an underfunded public school in a shitty neighborhood was that they were just happy I hadn’t dropped out yet. Keira was amazing. She really was a good girl, and we had a good relationship. And things with my mom had only gotten worse over the years, and I had either done something that was going to make things better or a hell of a lot worse moving forward. 

So yeah, maybe I was hiding out. Just a bit.

“Is she asleep?” Mom whispered.

“Yeah,” I rasped quietly, then slowly shifted out from under Keira. She murmured quietly in protest, but didn’t wake up. I tugged the sheet over her before I met mom in the hallway.

Without speaking, we both ended up walking to my room. I sat on the queen bed and mom hovered, holding her elbows in the middle of the room, looking small. She’d changed shirts, and her hair was damp from the shower. I wondered if she was wearing any panties, and if so, which ones. We weren’t shy about nudity—I’d just snuggled my half-naked baby sister in thin sleep shorts—and we tended to combine our laundry, so I’d seen more than a few pairs, some racy, some practical, all compelling.

I asked her to sit, but she just shook her head, blond hair falling over her shoulders in loose waves, a shade darker than when it was dry. 

“Is she okay?” she finally asked.

“She’s fine,” I said. I didn’t add that she was relieved to have Jake out of the house. I wasn’t sure how much more Mom could handle that night.

Mom nodded absently. “Good.”

She was making me nervous, so I stood and took a step towards her. She blinked up at me with big blue eyes, surprised by my sudden proximity.

Standing in front of Mom like this was strange. I hadn’t realized how much my perspective had shifted. Somewhere in the last few years, I’d grown a few inches taller than her, though I hadn’t been to the doctor in long enough that I had no idea how tall I was. 

I tried to remember the last time I’d really looked at her, with the loving gaze of a son who idolized a parent. I could only recall vague snatches of time when I was under ten. I figured out younger than usual that my mom was a fuckup just like everybody else. And while the thought of putting a baby in her was hot as hell, the fact I already had a kid in the form of a younger sister, plus not wanting to bring one into a world as shitty as this when I had no idea how to be a good parent was enough of a turnoff that I wanted to get a vasectomy the second I turned eighteen.

“Relax,” I said, tugging her hands from where they cupped her elbows, voice coming out deeper than I’d intended. 

Mom’s hands went to her sides, so her lower lip caught between her teeth instead. I reached and tugged it free with my thumb, cradling her face, and her cheeks turned pink. It made me want to see what else I could do to make her blush, and my cock stirred in interest. 

“This is wrong,” she said, but it came out sounding more like a question.

“When has that ever stopped either of us?” I asked.

Golden brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I grimaced, hand dropping from her cheek. That lack of self-awareness was the root of almost all of our problems, plus my admittedly poor communication skills. “I mean that you can’t pick and choose when to do the right thing.” 

Mom frowned, and I turned to sit in my computer chair. She said, “Are you talking about Jake? I can’t kick out my husband, Andrew.”

My eye twitched, and I paused halfway to the desk. I didn’t appreciate the tone she was taking. Last guy who copped an attitude got punched in the face. I’m not saying I wanted to punch my mom, just that I didn’t take that shit from anyone.

“That’s fine,” I replied, turning back to face her. “I did it for you.” She opened her mouth to argue some more, but I cut her off. “And this is the same husband you cheated on earlier tonight, right? With your son? Remember when you fucked your son?” I looked pointedly at her bare legs. “Unless you took a douche to your cunt, my swimmers are still up there.”

Oh, man. Her face. She did that thing women do, where they kind of rear their heads back and toss their hair a bit, and their mouths open while they make this stank face. I wasn’t even a little surprised when a hand shot out and slapped me across the face, same side as the faint bruising around my cheekbone and temple.

I let out a humorless laugh, hand going to my cheek out of reflex. “And since when is hitting your kids the right thing?” 

Some of the righteous indignation left her. “I’m sorry, Drew.” Those big blue eyes watered, and I must be sick, because I swear my dick twitched at the slap, and now it was chubbing up even more just from seeing her tears.

“Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are when you cry?” I asked, stepping into her space. I could tell I was looking at her too closely, too intensely, but I didn’t give much of a shit about propriety at that moment. That ship had sailed years ago, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean the second my cock had sunken into her.

Mom was at a loss for words, wet eyes flitting between mine, like she didn’t know where to look.

My hand went to the back of her neck, fingers threading in the long hair at her nape, tugging just a bit, enough to make her gasp. When her lips parted, I struck, pressing my mouth to hers. I swallowed the sounds she made, a little squeak of surprise where she tensed up, then a low moan as she sank into the kiss, opening up for me, letting my tongue slip into her mouth to brush against hers. Fuck, she tasted good.

Every time she tried to pull back, to protest, I would twist my fingers in her hair, distracting her, or I would press my tongue deeper into her mouth, plundering, violating. Her hands went up to my bare chest, roaming over my skin like they didn’t know where to land. 

I backed her up until the backs of her knees hit my bed, and she let out a little yelp as she fell backwards. I smirked and followed her down, lifting her up with an arm around her waist and scooting her so her head landed on a pillow. She was surprised, like she hadn’t noticed when I’d gotten so much bigger and stronger than her, and I couldn’t blame her, since I’d had the same thought earlier.

Without giving her time to protest, I tugged her shirt over her head, revealing her voluptuous body, bountiful tits remarkably perky given her age and that she’d had two kids.

I went to town on them, kneading them and sucking on the thick nipples. I knew my mom’s nipples were big—she didn’t wear bras around the house—but seeing them without the fabric barrier was something else. She had tits meant for porn. Hell, that would fix up all our money problems in no time at all.

Mom gasped, her hands going to my head, pushing and pulling me like she couldn’t make up her mind. “Drew!” she gasped, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the way she sounded all breathy and shit, like I was already rocking her world.

“I’m gonna fuck you again, Mom,” I informed her between sucks on her teats, as if she could possibly misunderstand my intentions. The way her mind worked, the mental gymnastics she performed to avoid facing reality, it wouldn’t be a shock if she hadn’t drawn the most likely conclusion. 

Mom, unsurprisingly, didn’t respond. Avoid problems, even when they’re staring you right in the tits.

I yanked off her panties, tossing them across the room, and my shorts followed. Then, I was lining up and pressing into her juicy cunt. 

We both groaned, and I fought to keep my eyes open and on her face, watching her reaction as she was speared open by my cock. She had this look like she didn’t have a thought in her head, like all her focus was on the dick forcing her open, and I liked it that way. I liked seeing her naked and laid out on my bed, her golden hair like a halo around her head.

Feeling generous—because all I wanted was to stab into her over and over until I came, then try to do better the next time—I pressed my thumb to her engorged clit, rubbing slow circles as I invaded her insides. I watched her breasts heave as her breaths became short until she stopped breathing altogether, her body going rigid before she fell over the edge. I gave myself a mental pat on the bat before thrusting my hips like I was trying to bruise her cervix, and her arms had to go to her tits to keep them from slapping her in the face, which was a damn shame because the view was as lewd as it was funny.

I grabbed her tits and squeezed tight enough to hurt, and her face screwed up in this mix of pain and pleasure before I saw her about to go over the edge a second time, her breaths following the same pattern as before. I pinched her nipples and twisted—not a full titty twister, but it definitely wasn’t gentle—and her eyes rolled back in her head. This time when she came, she let out a loud series of moans, loud enough that my hand went over her mouth, muffling them, and I brought my face close to hers. “Shut the fuck up,” I hissed. And I’ll be honest—being mean to my mom like that, while I was dominating her body, made my orgasm become way more imminent. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Mom grabbed my wrist, and I allowed her to tug it from her face, and I was glad I did because she said, through gritted teeth, “Cum in your mommy’s pussy, baby boy.” 

I blacked out for a minute as I had the best nut of my life.

Chapter Text

I woke up to yelling and banging. 

The fucker was trying to break down the door.

I reached for my mom, but she wasn’t in bed with me. For a moment, I was seized with panic, then relaxed when I realized one of the voices yelling was my mom. Though hers was more of a stage whisper than anything, trying to keep things quiet since it was—I checked the clock and rolled my eyes—three in the morning.

I got up and threw on a pair of boxers and shoved my feet into shoes before running down the stairs, jumping the last five in my haste.

“The fuck do you want?” I snapped, peeking my head out the window. I wasn’t worried since the windows were covered by metal bars, but I was plenty pissed at Jake, who was fuming on the miniscule front lawn. 

Mom was still at one of the upstairs front windows, though she’d quieted down now that I’d inserted myself into the situation.

“I want you to open the goddamn door and let me into my goddamn house!” he growled, waving his arms around like a nutcase. 

“Whose house?” I laughed, incredulous. I couldn’t help it even if I wanted to. “You sit on your ass all day. Since when is this your house?” 

“Since I married your mom, faggot.”

That got an eye roll out of me. See, I knew for sure that bit about the house wasn’t true—plus, I’d fucked his wife an accumulative three times that night, and four if that other time wasn’t a dream, so I felt pretty solid about my faggotry (or lackthereof)—and he was just talking out of his ass. 

Granted, he was an idiot, so maybe he didn’t know what a prenup was. So I said, “Then call a lawyer, faggot. Or the cops.” I grinned obnoxiously. Jake, like most of us, hated cops, but I’d be willing to deal with them if that meant his ass got hauled off for a night in the drunk tank. Since I was already giving advice, I said, “You’ll need a lawyer for the divorce, anyway.”

I heard my mom gasp upstairs, and I rolled my eyes again. If she thought I wasn’t going to make her divorce his ass, the bitch was crazy.

“You’ll never be the man of the house,” Jake yelled, storming closer to the bars I stood behind. “You’ll never be what she needs. You’ll always be a little boy trying to live up to the expectations of a daddy who abandoned you.” 

Damn. That motherfucker got mean when he was sober.

“What’s your daddy up to, Jakey?” I asked. I was still grinning, though it had morphed into something more closely resembling an animal baring its teeth. “Was he around much? Wish my daddy stuck around so he could teach me how to be a jobless piece of shit like yours.”

Jake was, it seemed, apoplectic. Since he couldn’t get to me, though, he turned his attention back to beating the door.

Jesus.

I backed away from the window and sat on the couch, rubbing my face with my hands. There was stubble that I knew would make me look like a basement dweller if I didn’t shave in the next few days, and my back was killing me from hunching over an engine all afternoon. No matter how many times I scrubbed my body, I always smelled like the garage—not that I could tell anymore—and my hands were calloused as shit, though I’d gotten some good reviews from women over the past couple years.

The door was still rattling. We needed a new one if the thing couldn’t handle one measly alcoholic, no matter how pissed he was. We needed a new couch, too. This one had a permanent imprint of Jake’s ass where he liked to park it. If I picked up some hours, maybe boosted—

The lock flew off of the door and landed on the scuffed wood flooring, rolling a few feet. There was a thud and the door crashed open.

I looked up, shocked as shit to see Jake stumbling in wearing a manic grin, red faced and sweaty as fuck, and holding an aluminum baseball bat.

Chapter Text

I jumped up and over the couch, putting it between us. “Who the fuck gave you a bat?” It definitely wasn’t one of the items I’d thrown out earlier.

“Kids across the street left them out,” Jake boasted.

Goddamn it all to shit-fuck. I was going to bash the Rogers’ windows in just to prove a goddamned point.

“Lock’s a piece of shit,” Jake added, downright giddy.

“You’re a piece of shit,” I growled. Not my best work, but in my defense, I didn’t think he’d get his shit together long enough to break down the door. Maybe it was better to keep him inebriated. Too bad no one (correctly) assumed he was homeless and gave him a pity joint and six-pack. When he was clear-eyed, he had this unhinged look to him that I didn’t like. 

“I never liked you,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. (He wasn’t that high functioning off the hooch.)

“I’m gonna cry myself to sleep tonight,” I replied blandly, side stepping as he advanced on me, keeping the couch between us.

“And there’s the fuckin’ attitude,” he complained. “You always think you’re such hot shit. You didn’t get beat enough as a kid, but better late than never.” He twirled the bat gayly. 

“So that’s why your daddy stuck around,” I said, feigning astonishment.

Jake was, unsurprisingly, confused, but he didn’t have to understand to know he was being insulted. He was probably used to it, the dipshit.

He took a few more steps, and we did another rotation around the couch. “Stop hiding behind the couch!”

I was annoyed, but I still laughed at the absurdity. Unfortunately, that resulted in Jake losing patience and kicking the couch aside. It went sailing across the poorly maintained hardwood, and suddenly I was standing in the middle of the room with no way to defend myself.

Shit.

Jake didn’t waste time. He lunged, and I dove out of the way, landing on a seen-better-days recliner hard enough that it tipped backward, sending me sprawling, my bony ass landing on the thin living room rug. Turns out the fall backwards was a blessing in disguise however because Jake pivoted quickly and the bat smashed into the base of the recliner.

“Fag can’t beat me sober!” taunted Jake.

I rolled to my feet and jumped to the other side of the coffee table, dodging another hit. “You brought a fucking weapon, asshole!” And, because I was a chronic shit talker, “Beating off fags sober makes it more gay, not less.”

I ducked when he swung again, smashing a pot holding a plant that had barely been clinging to life, sending shards flying. I covered my face to protect it from the debris.

“Ow, fuck!” Jake squealed like a bitch. He’d stepped on a shard and it must have pierced his shoe.

Taking the opening, I wrenched the bat from his grip and gloated. “I guess I can beat you sober.”

I wasn’t expecting Jake to be dumb enough to lunge for me again with a piece of ceramic sticking out of his shoe. And honestly, I was starting to wonder if I was just as dumb as Jake, because instead of hitting him with the bat, I threw it up the stairs, out of both of our reach. It was enough of a distraction that he followed the movement, and I hit him with an uppercut that knocked his lights out.

Since he wasn’t awake to witness me turn into a bitch, I grabbed my wrist with my uninjured hand and doubled over with a wheeze. “Fuuuuuuuuck,” I groaned. 

“Drew?” Mom called from upstairs.

“M’fine!” I croaked. “Stay upstairs. You call the cops?” 

“No?”

“Good.”

I limped to the fridge—couldn’t remember taking a hit to the knee, but it sure as hell felt like I had—grabbing one of Keira’s unicorn icepacks and a dish towel, tying it to my hand using my uninjured left and teeth.

I heard Mom’s tentative footsteps on the stairs. She peeked her head out and whispered, “Oh, shit.”

“Clean this up,” I said, gesturing to the absolutely demolished living room. Then I grabbed Jake by the ankle for the second time that night and hauled him to the door, grabbing the car keys on my way out.

“Where are you going?” Mom asked.

I ignored her question, instead saying, “Throw a pair of pants and shirt out for me then barricade the door.”

Jake started mumbling incoherently, so I said, “C’mon, man. You hit your head pretty bad. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Jake made an affirmative sound, and when I started pulling him to his feet, he went willingly, slinging an arm over my shoulders as I half-carried him to the car, depositing him in the passenger’s seat.

“Rest your eyes for a minute. I’ll wake you up when we’re almost there.”

Jake grunted.

I pulled into the parking garage and drove down to a sublevel marked STAFF ONLY. You needed a card to swipe through the gate, but I just opened my window and smiled at the camera. A few seconds later, the barrier went up and I drove through.

I drove through the staff parking area and followed the hidden exit, this one marked as the trash room. Unfortunately, it actually was the trash room, and it smelled foul, even with the windows rolled up. I took another exit and got to the spot I was actually tryna get to, an exit that threw us out a few blocks over. It was a deadzone, no security cameras, not a lot of lights, blocked by buildings on all sides and unless you knew where the hidden entrances were, the only way to get in or out was through the garage entrance.

My coworker from the garage, Fabian, was waiting for me under a loading dock. There were other people milling around, staff and buyers and sellers doing their own pickups and dropoffs.

“I don’t like this,” Fabian said. “It’s short notice. We didn’t have a chance to vet this guy.”

“Listen,” I said, voice flat. “This guy’s wife and stepkids hate him. He comes from a long line of drunks, whores, and abusers who’ve probably sold their firstborn to get drug money from this fine establishment. No one’s gonna miss him.”

We both looked at the old Honda Civic sedan. The car was bouncing a little and there was definitely displeased yelling coming from the trunk. We’d taken a pitstop in a part of the city where the lights and surveillance cameras were shot out, then we’d played musical chairs.

“You really fit a dude in there?” Fabian was skeptical.

“I mean, it took some creativity, but yeah.”

This caught Fabian’s interest. “He missing limbs?”

I shrugged. “I might’ve broken an arm, but all the pieces are still there.”

Fabian nodded slowly, brows raised. “Respect.”

I popped the trunk and Jake came tumbling out, face completely red and eyes crazed. He launched himself at me, so I sidestepped and stuck a foot out to trip him. He went down on the concrete and didn’t get back up.

“Honestly, man,” I said, turning back to Fabian and lowering my voice. “He’s still pretty young, somewhere in his twenties. You get him dried out, you could probably sell him for parts…maybe not the liver, though.”

Fabian nodded, seeming to warm up to the idea. “That’s good business instinct right there, Drewski. We gotta get you in sales.”

“So you’ll take him?” I asked, not bothering to disguise my growing hope.

Fabian deliberated for another few seconds, then shrugged. “What the hell, why not, Drewski? Yeah, I’ll take him.” 

”My man!” I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Drinks on me.”

Because I’d just come into some cash.

Chapter Text

I woke up naked in the bathtub. Light from the window was searing my eyelids and I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

“You’re awake.”

I rolled my head over, still resting on the unforgiving porcelain, and looked up to see Keira watching me, perched on the toilet with her panties around her knees, shirt lifted up so it didn’t drag on the toilet.

It appeared that I’d woken up before the show, because a second later, she let out a steady stream of urine. I tried to tune it out, because sometimes the sound of someone pissing got me going. Add it to the list of things wrong with me.

“Time’s it?” I croaked. I wondered how many cigarettes I must have smoked to make me sound like a ninety-year-old with emphysema.

“Noon,” Keira replied. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” I rasped, sitting up. The world spun for a moment, and I gripped onto the sides of the tub, waiting for it to pass. “Why aren’t you at school?”

“It’s Saturday,” she replied, unimpressed. She was still sitting on the toilet, panties around her knees, showing off her cute little cunt. Or was it a cunny? I didn’t know at what age a girl turned into a woman and started using vulgar terms for their sex organs.

“I don’t feel great,” I griped in response.

Keira had no sympathy for me. “That’s what you get for drinking. Isn’t that the reason you don’t like Jake? He’s always fucked up.”

“Christ, you kiss your brother with that mouth?”

Keira got up, used a modest few pieces of the ultra strong toilet paper, daintily wiping and flushing before she pulled up her panties, leaned over, and kissed me on the nose. “Yep.” She glanced down. “At least someone’s happy this morning.”

“Where’d you learn to say that?” I demanded, pushing myself to my feet while she washed her hands. I’d wanted to ignore the cock twitching at the nose kiss, not wanting to sexualize a sweet moment, but apparently Keira was on a new kick—sex—and between the morning wood, full bladder, and partially nude—albeit underdeveloped—girl…I don’t know. I wasn’t a child molester, my body just got confused.

I stumbled over to the toilet and put up the seat, taking aim and letting loose a strong stream of piss. 

“Mia says that when a guy’s dick is up like that, it means he’s happy.”

I looked down and, sure enough, my cock was at full mast. I was so hungover, and used to pissing through morning wood, I hadn’t even noticed. “I think Mia Bellardy sounds like a bad influence.”

“So your dick isn’t happy?” Keira asked, watching my cock bob as I washed my hands.

I would cover it with my hands but, not like I’m showing off, it wouldn’t do much to hide it.

“No, my dick’s not happy,” I retorted, leaning down and splashing my face with water, then reaching blind for the hand towel. Keira handed it to me, and I didn’t realize how close she was until I felt skin brush against my dick. I jumped, making a half-hearted attempt to angle my hips away. The hand followed. “Keira!”

“What?” she asked, blinking up at me innocently. I didn’t believe it for a second, and not just because she had her little hand wrapped around my defenseless cock.

“You can’t go around grabbing people’s dicks like that,” I chastised. I pulled my hips back, but all that did was make her tug at the foreskin. The sensation had me grabbing the edge of the sink with one hand and adorning her delicate wrist with bruised knuckles.

“Mom doesn’t touch your dick?” 

My instinct was to say no, which felt like a lie, but I couldn’t remember—had she touched my dick? There’d been incidental contact, sure, but we tended to rush towards the main event.

But it wasn’t like I would have told Keira yes even if she had.

It really felt like there was no right answer here. Keira had that look about her, like she had something to prove. 

Like she’d been talking to Mia Bellardy, and maybe now she knew a thing or two. 

Shit.

Keira’s hand traveled up and down my shaft, and my head lolled forward, messy hair falling over my forehead. A second ago, my thoughts were racing, but now they were slow like molasses.

I’m seventeen, a minor. Mom’s in her forties, a huge age gap, and she literally gave birth to me. Meanwhile, Keira is only five years younger than me, and sure, I act like her dad sometimes, but we were brother and sister. Peers, sort of.

And Mia Bellardy’s dad had been touching her since she was a baby.

“S’good,” I mumbled, swaying forward.

Keira tilted her head up, and our lips touched. And she must have wanted it real bad, because my mouth tasted like stale beer and cigarettes, and she still slipped me her tongue.

The room spun around us, and I realized then that not only was I sleep deprived, I was still drunk. 

Which meant any logic I just used was probably not stellar.

But also…

“M’gonna cum,” I muttered a millisecond before I was shooting off. 

I sprayed both of our hands with cum, and I stared at the white splatters over delicate pale skin and my own split knuckles.

Fuck.

“I got something for you,” Fabian said after I suited up and started my shift. He nodded me over, and when I was within reaching distance, he grabbed me by the coveralls, sliding an envelope in the inner pocket. “There’s about a hunnid k in there. Had to take some off for overhead and labor—them brokers ain’t cheap, I’ll tell you that, but our guy says the product looks good.” He gave me a serious look, still holding onto the opening of my coveralls. “You ever wanna do business, lemme know first, yeah?”

I couldn’t help the smile that broke my usual dour expression as Fabian grabbed my hand and dapped me up. “Yeah.”

“Sick,” Fabian said, walking backwards and waving a car through as it pulled into the lot. “Let’s get this fucker up on the rack.”