The War Zone [Assficianado & YellowSmoke]

[YellowSmoke]

Lara Johnstone


Her father had been drinking again. Upon the aged wooden table - itself a door amongst many into Ray Johnstone's childhood - the whiskey bottle gleamed dully beneath the overhead light, and seemed to shoulder the guilt of the man who lay passed out upon the couch. Lara sighed and flicked the light switch upon the wall, and the tobacco smoke haze of the sitting room disappeared into darkness.

It was past midnight, and outside the house the English countryside slept wrapped in the gloom and chill of late Autumn. This time last year, the Johnstone's had been living in London and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The twins went to school like most other 15 year olds, Ray and Alice worked during the day and watched television in the evenings. In April, shortly after Tom and Lara's 16th birthdays, Devin had been born.

The newborn infant brought a fresh financial burden upon the family, and following the death of Ray's mother, the family upped and left the city for the countryside, moving into the freshly vacated home where the twins' grandmother had lived since before their father was born. They acquired new jobs, and still nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then Devin had died. A month later, Alice too fell ill and now she lay comatose in a hospital bed, and the doctors said they had no idea if or when she would awaken. Shortly thereafter, Ray had taken to drinking regularly, and a deathly quietude had crept into the house, broken only by drunken fits of rage brought on by the crushing grief of having lost a mother, a son, and for all intents and purposes a wife - all in the space of a season.

Lara had often heard that in times of strife, family was the one thing upon which you could depend, as though it were some immoveable pillar of strength amid a tempest of grief. In the Johnstone household there was no sign of such a pillar - only distance - and the silence between them spoke volumes. Walking quietly down the hall, her bare feet protruding from the ends of faded jeans, she knocked upon her brother's door and entered without being admitted. She often liked to sit with him - if only to distract herself from the solitary feeling which pervaded the house - for with Tom, even silence was comfortable.

 

[Assficianado]

Lara Johnstone


Her father had been drinking again. Upon the aged wooden table - itself a door amongst many into Ray Johnstone's childhood - the whiskey bottle gleamed dully beneath the overhead light, and seemed to shoulder the guilt of the man who lay passed out upon the couch. Lara sighed and flicked the light switch upon the wall, and the tobacco smoke haze of the sitting room disappeared into darkness.

It was past midnight, and outside the house the English countryside slept wrapped in the gloom and chill of late Autumn. This time last year, the Johnstone's had been living in London and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The twins went to school like most other 15 year olds, Ray and Alice worked during the day and watched television in the evenings. In April, shortly after Tom and Lara's 16th birthdays, Devin had been born.

The newborn infant brought a fresh financial burden upon the family, and following the death of Ray's mother, the family upped and left the city for the countryside, moving into the freshly vacated home where the twins' grandmother had lived since before their father was born. They acquired new jobs, and still nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then Devin had died. A month later, Alice too fell ill and now she lay comatose in a hospital bed, and the doctors said they had no idea if or when she would awaken. Shortly thereafter, Ray had taken to drinking regularly, and a deathly quietude had crept into the house, broken only by drunken fits of rage brought on by the crushing grief of having lost a mother, a son, and for all intents and purposes a wife - all in the space of a season.

Lara had often heard that in times of strife, family was the one thing upon which you could depend, as though it were some immoveable pillar of strength amid a tempest of grief. In the Johnstone household there was no sign of such a pillar - only distance - and the silence between them spoke volumes. Walking quietly down the hall, her bare feet protruding from the ends of faded jeans, she knocked upon her brother's door and entered without being admitted. She often liked to sit with him - if only to distract herself from the solitary feeling which pervaded the house - for with Tom, even silence was comfortable.

Her soft footsteps gave her away. It didn’t matter that there were only three of them in the house, and that of those three, one was passed out on the couch. The small house could have been teeming with people, and Tom would still have been able to pick out her soft tread amongst the many as she approached his door. He had lived with her for sixteen years, and that certainly had something to do with it, but Tom knew that it there was something else to it.

He had read something once about entanglement. It was all quantum mechanics and physics and it was all very confusing, but what he remembered was that if two subatomic particles ever merge and then split apart again, each of them will react whenever something affects the other one…even if they are on opposite sides of the Universe. When he read that, he immediately thought about his sister. In the beginning, in their mother’s womb, they had been one, but they had been split apart…but this says we’ll always have an effect on each other, no matter where we go or what we do. Lara and I will always be entangled.

They were entangled, and they had lived together for sixteen years, but that still didn’t completely explain how Tom knew it was Lara. The final piece was that he paid attention. He wasn’t obvious about it, but Tom had, from an early age, watched Lara. He watched her, and he listened to her, and he smelled her, and when he could, he touched her. All the time. So much so that he truly knew her better than he knew himself. Oh, he certainly couldn’t divine her thoughts, but he was more certain of how she would react to something than he was of his own reactions. He had never really thought about why he did it, for he had always done it, but it all came down to love. He wasn’t aware of it, but that was the reason… he had a deep, abiding love for her that only grew with the years…

…but as he lay on his bed reading a magazine, he wasn’t thinking about love. He was thinking that his father had passed out for the night, and that his sister was coming in to sit with him before she went off to her own room for the night. She’s coming for comfort, for solace…but what can I do to take away her pain?

Tom was tough, but he was still just a 16 year old. The blows had come down hard and fast on the family…his little brother, dead…his grandmother, dead…and now, it was almost a certainty that their mother would soon be dead as well. Brain scans had shown no signs of activity, so it was really just a matter of signing the papers and, by doing so, removing the sun from their lives. They had all revolved around Alice…father and children rotating around her eternal goodness and love like little planets…but the papers would soon be signed. When that happened, their sun would die and their worlds would grow cold.

But Tom was determined to prevent that from happening. Between the three of them, he imagined that they had enough love to get them through...but their father was taking it much harder than he or Lara…and Tom understood. His mother, his son, and his wife. He and Lara had lost, but not near as much as their father Ray... so Tom understood why their father took to the bottle, and he understood why his pretty little sister came to his room night after night. She was as bereft as he was, but Tom’s grief wasn’t as sharp as hers, for, as always, he was far more interested in her and how she was feeling instead of dwelling on his own emotions.

When she walked in and silently shut the door behind her, he wondered, as he always did, how she could be so cute while he was…well, the way he looked. Of course, he couldn’t see past the obvious. Their hair and eye color was the same, that he knew, but he couldn’t see that he was just as attractive as she was. As always, he was concentrating on her, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

Looking up at her as she approached, he wordlessly moved a few magazines to clear a space for her beside him. Reaching behind his back, Tom pulled out one of the pillows he had been resting against and propped it against his headboard. Scooting his body over a little to give her room, Tom waited for her to do what she had done every night for the last five nights. He didn’t know if it helped her any, but Tom was willing to do whatever he could. Like so many other areas of his life, he wasn’t aware that by helping Lara he was helping himself.

Wordlessly patting the blanket beside him, Tom looked up into his twin’s face. He wanted to cry at the grief he saw there, but he knew he had to be strong for his sister. Of course, the grief he saw in her face was reflected in his own, but he felt for her and not for himself. He knew the name for it…entanglement.

 

[YellowSmoke]

With the pat of his hand, Lara raised her eyes to her brother - though not her face, which remained inclined towards the floor - and as one corner of her mouth shrugged a wistful half-smile, she cocked her eyebrow too, as if to question what could be done about their father's newly-acquired habit. It was a topic which needed no words: they both understood its origins, the cause of its inception, and that there was little either could do about the matter. She loved her father - perhaps even more so since the passing of her mother - but when the drink was on him it was a different matter. As an escape, it was a precarious venture along the top of a slippery slope, and whatever release it was supposed to bring him had not stopped him from venting his tribulations on his children of late.

She recalled the days when he would get that mischievous twinkle in his eye and she would immediately run from him, grinning as he set after her in a playful chase, his robust hands all set to tickle her if he caught her, but these days it seemed that his hands tickled only the bottle, and then the only time those dull eyes gleamed was in pained anger. She didn't understand why - at a time when all three of them were much in need - he was not becoming a part of the solace which she and Tom found in each other.

Clambering onto the bed - her dainty feet protruding from the ends of bell-bottomed jeans which were snug around the thighs - she settled against the pillow which her twin had provided for her, and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her forearms were bared by the light, loose short-sleeve top she wore, and she wound them about her legs and let her head fall back, long blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. She glanced towards Tom's magazine but returned her gaze to the space in front of her when she found that it didn't interest her. He could have been reading anything at that moment and Lara wouldn't have found it interesting; her only thoughts were of her father, sleeping drunkenly on the couch, and far away from the bed that he had - until recently - shared with Alice Johnstone. Perhaps it was better this way... at least in his current state he couldn't shout at her or Tom; he couldn't break anything; most of all, he couldn't tarnish her memory of who he had been before the loss of mother, child, and wife. She'd retreat to her own room in a while, and rise in the morning to clear away the evidence of her father's habit. Until then, she'd pass the time in silent comfort with Tom.

 

[Assficianado]

After she had settled down on his bed, Tom returned to his magazine, but after reading the same passage four or five times, he gave it up and settled for looking at the pictures scattered throughout the magazine.

Glancing at her, he saw Lara look at him for a moment before turning her attention to his wall…to his blank, painted wall. Surreptitiously watching as she drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, Tom thought she resembled a cocoon. From the corner of his eye, all he could see was her light colored blouse…and her hair. As the lamp was on her side, the light illuminated her golden blonde hair and made it glow, each strand resembling the little hairs that one saw in a cocoon…and Tom thought his vision wholly appropriate.

Tom knew Lara was trying, just as he was trying, to reach out to their father, to help support him so he could remain the bedrock on which their family rested, but it wasn’t working…the bedrock was crumbling, undermined by an insidious flow of whiskey. Instead of reaching out for his children, he had resorted to reaching for the bottle, and try as they might, Tom and Lara couldn’t quite do it by themselves.

They weren’t exactly children, but they weren’t adults, either, even though Tom fancied himself a fully grown man…and physically, he almost was. At 6’3” and 215, he was solid muscle, but he was on the thin side. His body had been shaped by countless hours in the pool, so even though his muscles corded and flexed whenever he exerted himself, he usually looked like any other boy…if that boy had a broad, muscular chest, narrow hips, and a tight butt. He also had quite a large penis, although he never really compared it to any of the other guys’. It was very thick, and when it got hard it was almost seven inches long. To Tom’s chagrin, this happened quite often, and usually there was no warning, but it, like everything else, was something he was learning to deal with.

With his short, sandy blonde hair, bluish-green eyes, and pale skin flecked with faint freckles, people often told him that he looked just like his sister. “Lord, no. She’s beautiful, and I’m just a lunk!” he’d laughingly say when told this, but he sort of believed it. He knew he wasn’t unattractive, but he saw so much beauty in Lara that it found it laughable when people compared them…but in truth, they looked very much like one another, and they were both very attractive…

…but this isn’t fair. Tom loved his father. He had always loved his father, and he loved him now...but he was becoming angry with him, too. Tom fancied himself a man, but he knew his father was the man of the family, and rightly so…but Tom felt that he was ignoring his responsibilities. He felt sad for his father, just as he felt sad for Lara, but he also felt that his father needed to rise above his pain and take care of his remaining children. Not me…I can fend for myself, but Lara. It hurts her to see Dad drunk every night, and it scares her to see him raging and crying…and it shouldn’t be this way. Mom is almost gone…and grandma is gone…and my little brother is gone. But Lara is still here, and so am I. She needs her daddy, not some drunken sot who frightens her every night.

Yes,Tom loved his father, and even through his own grief he had the capacity to ache for his father’s loss…but his anger was growing day by day. He loved his father, but he loved Lara far more. Their father’s drunkenness was only adding to the grief that Lara already carried on her small shoulders, and it hurt Tom to see his sister taking care of their father…their drunken father who was slipping into abusive behavior. Tom could handle the rants and curses, but seeing the look in Lara's eyes when their father cursed at her was breaking his heart. He should be tucking her in at night and telling her that all will be well. Well, if he won’t, I will.

The thought of Lara putting a blanket over their father before coming in to see him for some quiet solace made his anger flare, and he tossed the magazine onto the floor. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, Tom pulled her over until her head rested on his bare chest. He wrapped his other arm around her and, with his face buried in her flowing hair, said “It’s not okay, Lara. I know it’s not…but it will be. Trust me…it will be. I promise you.” Tom kissed her head and leaned back against the pillows as held her tight. In his young mind he thought he was comforting his sister, but the truth was that merely holding her and smelling her scent reassured him that things really would be okay again…sometime.

 

[YellowSmoke]

Had Lara been able to read her brother's thoughts she would have scoffed at how intensely he focused on her weakness - or at least told him to come on - though given deep enough reflection she would have been grateful for his concern, however overblown she thought it to be. She was sixteen now, and while still a child in many ways, she was almost an adult and felt herself well able to take care of herself. Hell, she had been left to do much of the cleaning and cooking in her mother's absence, and she had dealt with that pretty well thus far. The truth, however, was that it did hurt to see her family's security waning, drifting dangerously far from shore on the bow of their father's increased intake of alcohol. They had been through so much in these last few months: first, the death of her grandmother, which - though she had seen her only occasionally - brought her sadness. Secondly, the death of young Devin, which had introduced a cold silence into the house which then and even now felt strangely alien to her. And of course, most recently, the shocking news of her mother's sudden collapse and lapse into coma. The twins deserved more than this from their father; they needed more.

She did her best not to let it all get to her, though in the end her essays only made her numb, as though the grief had not gone away but had been merely been pushed into her depths to poison the most passing of happy days or minutes. She smiled so much more infrequently nowadays - more so even than in the days since her mother had been admitted to hospital - and behind the scenes it all weighed heavily on her. She was only sixteen, and she had not learned how to deal with such trials. The blankness of the wall upon which she gazed was but a mirror for that which passed through her mind: nothingness.

Like a gently toppling statue, she let her head fall softly to her brother's chest, and barely moved a muscle as she lay there, a warm body in his embrace. It will be... An empty sentiment it seemed, well-meant but lacking the slightest shred of evidence which might have kindled hope in her breast. Tom was ever the loving brother, but it seemed that even his promises held nothing for her now, as did life, as did death. She was not depressed, and the thought of suicide hadn't even crossed her mind; in the dead of night, she was but an empty vessel, deaf to its own hopes for the future. It was the same at school - her new school, of course - in which she often sat side-by-side with her brother, yearning for the day to come to a close so that she could return home and do exactly the same: sit by Tom's side and wait for the day to end.

She sighed and curled up, resting her legs upon his thighs and allowing her eyes to close. Was this the only place she could find comfort? Did nothing beyond the darkness of closed eyes and the warmth of her brothers embrace hold anything more for her? She almost fell asleep upon his chest, but eventually she sat and looked back to the wall, one side of her mouth shrugging ambivalently. "This sucks... Can I sleep with you tonight?"

It wouldn't be the first time - or the last - that the twins shared a bed, though the fact that it happened less and less frequently with age spoke as to the volume of Lara's need for comfort, comfort which the world seemed loathe to provide her with. If anything should happen to Tom, or even to her father, for that matter, she didn't know what she would do. Presumably, she would waste away until the nothingness claimed her as its own.

 

[Assficianado]

Tom felt Lara’s breath on his chest as she said “This sucks... Can I sleep with you tonight?" He had been holding her… cradling her against his chest…for some time, and he had thought her asleep until she spoke the words that both excited and worried him. What worried him was her voice. It seemed…dead…as if there was no emotion behind her words. Tom knew his sister to be very passionate, and although she wasn’t always terribly demonstrative, he knew that her feelings and emotions ran deep, so it hurt him to hear the flatness in her voice. Losing their grandmother had been…well, it wasn’t terribly bad, as he and Lara hadn’t been particularly close to her…but Tom noticed the change in Lara when Devin died. He thought that she would have managed to cope with that soon enough, but when their mother collapsed, Tom was almost able to watch Lara shrink in on herself. Even then, Tom was sure that he and their father would be able to support her, to keep her spirits buoyed until their mother recovered, but it hadn’t happened that way.

Instead of helping him, their father had spiraled down a gyre made up of anger, self pity, grief, and scotch whiskey. Instead of helping him hold Lara up, their father was dragging her down with him. Tom felt for his father, but he felt more for Lara. If his father wanted to self-destruct, he would mourn for him. If his father wanted to abdicate his responsibility for his children, he would miss his guidance and love. But there was one thing that he would not do, and that was watch while his father dragged Lara down with him. Their father was becoming vocally abusive, but he hadn’t touched him or, more importantly Lara, yet, so Tom was biding his time. He hoped his father would come around, would realize that his actions were tearing apart what was left of their family, but even as Tom hoped, he was making plans to safeguard Lara.

“This sucks... Can I sleep with you tonight?" Her words, even though they were flat…dead…excited him just as much as they alarmed him. He and Lara had often slept together growing up, for they were two peas in a pod, as the saying went. They had shared the same crib, and it wasn’t until they were eight that they finally got separate beds. He vividly remembered those first few weeks of sleeping apart. It was like he was …missing something…when he lay down without her, and for months after that it wasn’t uncommon for their parents to enter their room in the morning to find them snuggled together in the same bed. Sometimes it was his bed, sometimes hers, but it had been a long, difficult transition.

Tom missed sleeping with Lara, for he never slept as soundly and as deeply as he had with her, but there was something else he missed. They still slept together from time to time, but they were around eleven when he noticed that holding Lara close and pressing himself against her made him feel really good, and there were times when he woke to find himself holding her tight, his hard penis pressed between his belly and her body. Tom was pretty quick, and he had an idea of what was happening, but a little researching proved to him what he suspected…he was having erections caused by sexual excitement. Tom wasn’t surprised. He had been having new and… different …feelings for Lara, and even though he knew that he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he was, what little guilt he felt over them soon disappeared. Even at 11, his thinking was crystal clear. I have sexual thoughts and feelings for her…but she’s my sister, and I love her. How can that be wrong? As he grew older, that belief solidified, but there was a part of him that whispered that what he felt was wrong…but wrong didn’t mean bad. Consequently, he never intimated to Lara that he was sexually attracted to her…and his attraction never waned. Instead, as they grew, so did his lust for his sister…but even though they shared almost everything,every thought, Tom never said a word.

Tom wanted to make love to Lara. He wanted to have really depraved sex with her, and that was okay with him. He had wanted that for years, and he had embraced the part of himself that looked at physical incest with his sister as being a natural progression of the deep, abiding love they shared as twins and as siblings. He felt no guilt for his incestuous urges. There were those times, like now, when he felt only desire for Lara. The thought of incest didn’t shame him, it excited him. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but it didn’t matter. What he should feel and what he did feel were vastly different things…and Tom was quite comfortable with what he felt for Lara. Except…

…he had begun to realize that he was in love with Lara. Not just loved her, but was in love with her…and that scared him. He felt no guilt as he imagined himself having sex with her, but just thinking about telling her that he loved her made him blush in shame. He was very young when he wove his sexual feelings for her into his overall view of who and what Lara was to him, and he felt it natural…but this? This was something new, and he was too old to pretend that romantic love for his sister was natural…too old to imagine that this was the way it could be for two siblings, two twins. He couldn’t see that he had already done the same thing for the sexual love…lust…he felt for her, and if someone had pointed it out to him he would have been shocked.

He had only recently come to the conclusion, but he knew that there was nothing to be done about it. His feelings were what they were, and even though the time would come when he would have to tell her about his love...and his desire… for her, that time was not now. For now, his sole responsibility was to support her as best he could and to be the brother who had always been there for her to lean on.

“Can you sleep with me tonight? No…get out. You snore, and you drool on my pillows.” Tilting his head forward, Tom buried his face in Lara’s blonde hair and inhaled her scent before he kissed her head. “Of course you can. Since when have you ever felt the need to ask, Lara?” Tom eased out from beneath her and pulled a pillow under her head as he slipped off the bed and stood looking down at her. His cock wasn’t hard at all, but just being near his sister always made him just a little excited, and his cock hung thick and heavy between his legs, the outline somewhat visible through the linen slacks he wore. Picking up a pair of terry cloth shorts, he said “I’m going to check on Dad. You can have the bathroom if you need it. I’ll change down the hall.” Tom looked down at Lara a few moments more before he leaned down and said “It will get better. For you and for me. Look me in the eyes, Lara. I promise you it will…and I’ve never broken a promise to you, have I?” Smiling softly, Tom kissed her on the cheek, turned, and walked out of the room.

 

[YellowSmoke]

Finally, a hint of emotion - or at least a hint of something other than the nothingness she felt - made itself known on her face and in her eyes. Tilting her head slightly, she stared at her brother with a playfully serious look and felt the now unfamiliar sensation of her lips curling into a faint smile. If anyone had the ability to drag her out of the mire, it was Tom. She shrugged when he spoke again - as though the very body she inhabited had grown unfamiliar, possessed of habits she no longer recognised - but he'd broken the spell for now.

"Whatever, I'll just sleep in my t-shirt," she replied, scooching higher up the bed and pushing down the duvet to slip beneath its warmth and security, though without her twin's presence, the sense of security to be found beneath his sheets lingered in the wings, to arrive only when he would return. "It had better," she added, a sign that there was some pluck and fight left in her still, but she sighed all the same, and there was a touch of glumness to the smile she offered him as his lips left her cheek. Maybe he was right, she mused as she watched him leave. This couldn't go on forever; it simply took people a while to deal with heartbreak. As much as she feared to admit it, they were all expecting Alice Johnstone to pass away any week now, and though it would steal another piece of her heart and liveliness, surely the expectation would soften the blow. So she hoped...

By the time Tom returned, Lara was already curled up beneath the covers, her jeans crumpled upon the floor with her bra perched atop them - the darned things were always too uncomfortable to sleep in - cotton panties and smooth, soft legs hidden under the covers. She rolled her head when she heard him enter, looking up at him with her head cocked to the side.

"How's dad? Still asleep?"

Of course he is. I wonder how long it actually takes for his body to register how uncomfortable it is to sleep on the couch. She wondered what Tom thought of it all - what he really thought - but she was too weary to question him now. As it was, their situation was already comparable to emotional quicksand, and too much thrashing about around the topic was liable to pull her back into an anaesthesia of depression. It was dark outside - and about the house too - and the day had indeed come to an end. Wasn't that all she wished for these days?

 

[Assficianado]

As Tom stood looking down at his father, he realized that the only thoughts he had for the man were negative. Pity, shame, anger…and it saddened him. He had thought his father made of sterner stuff, but when the losses began to pile up, he crumbled. Tom had never thought his father a superman, but he had never suspected that he was so weak, either. It wasn’t as if Tom didn’t understand what his father was going through, either, for he and Lara were going through the same heartbreak. His mother? Their grandmother. His wife? Their mother. His son? Their brother. His loss was their loss, so Tom understood.

But their father was older. Their father was their father, and he and Lara had been expecting him to act like a father, to give them the love and support they needed more than ever, and to tell them that everything would be alright again, if only someday. But he had quit. He had crawled into a bottle and relinquished his role as man of the family…and it broke Tom’s heart. As he leaned over his father and began to pull him upright, Tom knew that things would never be the same between him and his Dad. He knew that his place as a man of the family had risen while his father's had fallen. Of course, their family would soon consist of only Lara, his father, and himself. He realized that, but what he hadn’t considered, what hadn’t even crossed his mind, was that there was only enough room for one alpha male. Whether in a pack of wolves or in a domestic household, there could only be one top dog, and Tom was already establishing his territory by taking what once had been his fathers.

“Get up, Dad. Let’s get you to your bed.” Tom watched as Ray opened a bleary eye and gazed up at him balefully. “Yeah, I know you’re comfortable now, but you won’t be soon enough, so let’s go.” Getting a powerful arm around his father’s waist, Tom hoisted Ray to his feet and led him down the hall to his room. As he pulled down the sheets and blankets, Tom made his father undress before allowing him to collapse into the bed. As he covered him up and shut out the bedside lamp, Tom thought how pathetic it was to have to put his own father to bed…and it hadn’t been the first time that week, either. Closing the door to his room, Tom mused that it wouldn’t be the last, either.

In the hall bathroom, Tom brushed his teeth with a disposable toothbrush before he took off his linen slacks and folded them over the hamper. He was stepping into his terrycloth shorts when he noticed his cock…really noticed it. It hung, thick and heavy, between his legs, and he tried to remember the last time he had masturbated. One didn’t normally think of grief as a driver of lust, but high emotions can only be borne for so long before they need to be released, and sex of any kind was always a wonderful release. Tom looked in the mirror for a few moments before he looked down and took his cock in his hand. It seemed to swell to his touch almost instantly, and as he gently stroked it, it began to fill his hand and lengthen. His breathing deepened, and he was ready to take it to it natural conclusion when he thought of Lara lying alone in his bed. Oddly, his thoughts weren’t sexual. Instead, he felt that he should be there with her. She needed the touch and companionship of a loved one, and as their father had ceded that responsibility as well, Tom felt that he should try to love Lara even more. He wasn’t sure if that were possible, but what was possible was for him to spend even more time by her side…so Tom took his hands away from his cock and waited until it went down…enough.

Entering his room and closing the door behind him, Tom was struck by how natural and right it seemed to be in his room. The house was filled with grief and despair, but somehow, inside his room, all was almost right. His bedside lamp put out just enough light…a glow, really…to see by. His neat little room was as it always was, and in the center was his bed…and in his bed was Lara. He could see her blond tresses spilling out over his covers, and he had to stop for a moment. He stared at the back of her head, then around the room , then the back of her head again…and Tom wondered what it would be like if it were this way every night. Outside his door life was stormy and cruel, but here, in his room, was a little sea of tranquility , and Tom wondered if it couldn’t be that Lara, instead of waiting for him in his bed…for solace, for comfort…could be waiting, every night, for him…but in their bed. For comfort, yes, but also for his love...and for him to make love to her.

He knew it was but a dream, but the warmth of the room, the gentle glow of the lamp, her scent in the air, and his own emotions all made it seem so attainable, so realistic, as if all he had to do was slip in beside her and take her. He would take her, and she would know that she belonged to him.

His thoughts… about domesticity, about gentle lovemaking… were merely a veneer for his deeper drives. He was the ascendant alpha male. He was rising and his father was falling…and he needed a mate. For so long Tom had accepted his sexual desire for Lara as just a natural part of who he was that he naturally began to think of her as his when the male dynamics shifted. He wasn’t conscious of it, of course. He still thought of his desire for her as just a purely sexual thing, driven by his love for her and the thrill of having depraved sex with the one person in the world he was most intimate with, yet forbidden the ultimate intimacy. Making love to her…with her…was more outrageous than merely having sex with her, for Tom couldn’t imagine her feeling as he did…but there were times, as now, when it was almost believable.

But far beneath the surface, Tom’s feelings were far baser and instinctual. He looked at Lara as currently belonging to Ray…but Tom was young and hungry, driven by lust and love and an instinctual desire to protect her…and he intended to take Lara away from him. He wasn’t conscious of any of it, but as he moved towards the bed, he felt himself stir as he gazed at her hair. Hearing him approach, she turned her head to look at him as she said "How's dad? Still asleep?" Nodding his head, he took the last few steps and got into bed beside her after turning off the lamp. Slipping beneath the covers, he snuggled up beside her. As she was on her side facing away from him, Tom wrapped his arm around her upper body and felt for her hand. “I got him off the couch and into his bed.” Tom nestled his face in her neck and pulled her small body closer to his. He felt her smooth legs against his own, felt her small breasts on either side of his hand as he twined his fingers in hers, and it was only by biting his lip periodically that he kept his cock from stiffening as it pressed against her firm, yet giving, bottom.

“I’m getting tired of this, Lara. He’s the father and we’re the kids…or that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I can’t keep taking care of him. I’m worried for you, and I’ll always be here to take care of you, but I…I can’t keep this up much longer. When…I mean, if Mom dies, then what? He’s gone to pieces now. What happens then?” Tom’s voice was little more than a whisper, and as he spoke, he could smell Lara. It wasn’t perfume or soap, it was Lara. It was the scent of a woman. The smell of her breath, her sweat, even her pussy…all the pheromones and hormones that made up the distinctly female aroma… all combined to create one scent that Tom could recognize as belonging only to his sister. Lara’s scent by itself was enough to excite him, but being in bed with her, holding her close, both of them half naked…it was almost too much for Tom. He was biting his lip almost constantly, and he was hoping that she would fall asleep soon, for an erection was inevitable.

“Well, I don’t know…but I did promise you that it’ll get better, and it will…at least for you and me. It won’t be what it used to be, but we’ll make it good. You’ll be happy again, too. I promise you,Lara. Now, go to sleep.”

Tom pushed his mouth through her hair until he reached the soft skin of her neck. He kissed her a few times, tenderly, and then relaxed as best he could. Had the light been on, he might have seen the tiny drop of bright red blood fall from his lip onto the white of the sheet.

 

[YellowSmoke]

Lara's eyes fell shut again and in the darkness she found comfort - in the darkness, and in her brother's embrace. He was right about everything, and she was suddenly deeply grateful for his presence. Their father had gone off the rails, and as much as she hoped that he would find his way again - that it would only be a spell which would pass when he'd come to terms with the grief - she feared that it was anything but. It could too easily be the swaggering of a man broken, never to healed again, and his flirtation with alcohol (what an understatement it was to consider his affair with the substance to be mere flirting) could all to easily be imagined as a swaggering man on the precipice of deep chasm, yawning wide and calling him to its depths, like the patient antlion waiting for its prey to fall to its demise.

Her slender fingers meshed with Tom's larger ones, and she squeezed his hand, sighing as she relaxed from a build-up of tension she hadn't previously noticed betaking her. It was likely to have been present for days or even weeks, and she wondered if she weren't unhealthily stressed all of the time. She couldn't live like that, but what could she do about it? Her father wasn't helping, only Tom seemed to care for her as much as she wished - as much as she needed. His arm around her softened all of her resolve and denial of her state of mind; during the days she would put up a stern front but it was all a lie, and even she didn't realise it, it seemed that her brother did. He was growing up so fast... she too realised now the dynamic shift taking place in the house, and that Tom was set to be her most natural source of comfort. How long had he known her so well? How did he know how sorely she needed him, when even she herself denied that need? And what of his needs? Did he need her as much as she needed him and his unending comfort? She squeezed his hand again.

"I don't know either," she whispered, as though she were afraid to embrace the subject out loud. "But we'll be ok. We have each other, don't we?" The strength of the rhetoric was not enough to keep her from feeling a great sorrow at the thought of their mother's passing, which now seemed so probable - just one more thing she had been denying to herself. She did not shed a tear, but she did swallow to force her trembling emotions to be as still as her body was, warm and slight, curved as she lay with Tom like an entwined pair of quotation marks, their communion framing the lack of support they received from their father. In truth, he had grown more and more distant with each passing day, and with each empty bottle of liquor. At the dinner table conversation was scarce, and in the evenings they each retreated to their rooms more often than not, though the sitting room was Ray's place of habituation, the television on and a whiskey bottle open before him. This couldn't go on.

Tom's promise - one of those which until now had seemed hopeful but empty - carried a little more weight now that she acknowledged his ascent within the walls of the family home; the home which still seemed foreign to her. She wished they were back in London, but all she had of her childhood home now was memories... memories, and a brother grown into a young man: a protector. Of course, Tom had his own life to lead - and who knew where it would take him in years to come? - but for now at least, she was happy to think of him as her guardian in times of need. She whispered "goodnight" to him, punctuated with a soft rendition of his name, and curled herself a little more tightly into a near-foetal position, clutching his arm close to her breast and settling back against him, her legs drawn up to round the curve of her behind, and she felt the warmth and security of his chest against her back.

It'll get better... we'll make it good... you'll be happy again... I promise you, Lara... go to sleep...

 

[Assficianado]

As exhausted as he was, Tom couldn’t fall asleep. You’ve made a promise to her, Tom…how are you going to keep it? He had talked to the doctors, had got them to tell him the truth…their mother wasn’t coming home…ever. She was brain dead, and the only reason she was still alive was that they were waiting for Ray to sign the papers so that her organs might be donated to those in need. Tom knew, but he didn’t want to tell Lara until their father actually signed. I shouldn’t have to tell her. Dad should have told her already…but like everything else lately, he’s leaving it to others...Damn it! Why do I have to be the one? Tom considered making Ray tell her, but then he imagined his father, drunk as a skunk, trying to tell his sister that their mother was but a shell to be harvested before burial. Damn. I guess that it’s better if I do it, but…goddamnit!

Tom wasn’t sure when he would tell her, but he knew it had to be soon. It wasn’t fair for Lara to be kept in the dark, and even though he was sure she wouldn’t want to sit at their mother’s bedside, he wanted her to have that option if she chose to do it. He hadn’t been able to predict his own actions lately, much less those of others, so he knew he had to tell her soon…just in case.

His brain was a swirl of thoughts, but they soon blended into one homogeneous mass, such was his fatigue. He was literally too tired to think, but he was able to hear Lara’s slow, steady breathing and know that she was asleep. He couldn’t think clearly, but he knew that he could relax his guard. Instead of biting his lip, Tom began to suck gently on the area that he had bit through, and instead of thinking, he allowed himself to feel.

He could feel Lara’s heart beating, slowly and steadily, beneath his hand…the hand she held between her small breasts. He could feel those, too, and he slowly moved their hands until he was cupping her right breast. Tom could feel her silken hair in his face, and as he sucked on his sore lip, he could feel strands in his mouth. He could feel one of her feet, he guessed it was her right, lying on his right calf, but from their necks down to their lower legs, they were as one. Tom’s body curved around his sister’s like he had been shaped especially to fit her…and he had. She was his twin, and he felt that she was born to complete him. He had never felt that she needed him to be complete…in his eyes, she was almost perfect…and if she was his, she would be perfect. He wanted nothing more than what Lara was…but she would have to offer herself to him, and that was just another of his many fantasies of her.

He could feel his cock stirring, and within a minute of his being aware that she was asleep, Tom’s cock was sticking straight up…rock hard and pressed firmly against her panty clad ass. His hand on her breast, Tom pulled her body a little closer to his. Softly, almost imperceptibly, Tom rubbed his cock against his sister’s bottom, but as wonderful as it felt, Hypnos soon claimed him for another night.

It was a little after six when Ray opened his eyes. He laid motionless for a few minutes as he judged what the damages were…and as the minutes ticked by and he began to move about, a few things became apparent. His head wasn’t throbbing, so he must have passed out early. He didn’t hurt in any particular area, so he hadn’t fallen down. Finally, he was in his own bed, so he must have managed to get off the couch. But then he remembered Tom helping him up…leading him down the hall… pulling the covers over him after getting him into his bed. And with the memory came the hot tears of shame which he seemed to cry every morning. Raising his hands to his eyes, Ray rubbed them until they were dry… still bloodshot red…but dry.

Pulling himself up until he was leaning against the headboard, Ray wondered how he had come to this. He had always been a strong man, or he had always thought of himself as strong, but the last month had completely devastated him. Losing his mother had been terribly difficult. He had been very close to her, and her death, so unexpected, was terribe…but he had coped. He told himself that children buried their parents…but then Devin died…and parents weren’t supposed to bury their children. He had almost fallen to pieces, but he was able to stay… if not strong, then strong enough…for Alice. Even then, Lara and Tom were getting short shrift, but Ray knew his son, and he knew that Tom would take care of his sister while he and Alice grieved for their infant son.

And it almost worked. Almost. Just when it seemed as if he was starting to feel some firm ground beneath his feet, just when he thought that he might work his way through the pain, just as he felt that his life, the life he had known with Alice and Lara and Tom, would go on, just as he began to feel hope again…his Alice was struck down. He had thought he was strong, but what little strength he actually had was completely stripped from him in that moment… and in that moment, he broke.

He knew he was supposed to be strong for his children…he knew it…but he couldn’t do it. It was too easy to quit, especially as he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tom was stronger than he was. He also knew that Tom loved Lara far more than was normal or even natural, but that just made it easier for him to abrogate his role as the man of the house. Ray wasn’t sure what would become of him, but at the moment he didn’t care. That was his problem. He didn’t care. He didn’t even feel much anymore…even grief. He was just…numb…and he kept that way with whiskey.

Except for the mornings. In the morning everything came back. His grief, his shame, his sense of helplessness, even his libido…but it was all mixed up. Some of his feelings were heightened while others were greatly muted, but they were all there when he ran into Lara in the kitchen.

He had showered and dressed shortly after waking, and for the first time in days, mainly because of his son actually putting him into his own bed instead of letting him sleep on the couch, he felt almost human. Wandering down to the kitchen, he brewed a pot of coffee and had drunk half a cup when he remembered he had a bottle of Kahlua in the cabinet.

Ray looked up and smiled when Lara walked into the kitchen. She’s so pretty…so looks so much like…like Alice. “Good morning, honey.” She’s a little smaller than Alice…her breasts aren’t as big…but she looks just like her. Had Lara looked around, she would have seen the half full coffee pot… had she looked into his coffee cup, she would have seen nothing but black liquid… and had she had reason to dig through the trash, she would have found the brown bottle of Kahlua, now empty, mixed in amongst the rubbish.

Ray stood, still steady on his feet, and walked over to his daughter. “It’s a beautiful morning, Lara. Walk with me.” Taking her hand in his, Ray gently pulled her toward the back door…the door that led down to the lake and, about 200 yards down, their boathouse/guest bedroom.

 

[YellowSmoke]

The morning had come slowly and pleasantly to the young blonde, awaking in the arms of her brother as consciousness gradually shook off the shackles of sleep. She lay in the comfort of Tom's embrace for a while before carefully slipping free of his arm and leaving him to rest as she slid out of the bed and dressed herself. It had been a nice way to begin her morning, and beyond the curtains the sun had returned to the sky to fashion a warm autumnal day.

It was close to 10 when she shuffled barefoot into the kitchen, smiling at her father's greeting. Despite his passing out the previous night, he seemed to be in good spirits, and for that Lara was glad. When she wasn't looking upon his drinking with admonishment, she did pity the man; he had lost so much recently and still the weight of responsibility lay upon his shoulders, only now he had to bear it alone. Seeing him like this, it was hard for her not to be a little hopeful that things were beginning to look up; any day could be the day when he got his life back on track and deep down, she hoped that today was that day.

"Morning," she smiled, and as he approached and took her hand, she was reminded of the warm, caring father he'd been before fate had so cruelly taken from him not once or twice, but thrice. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, turning her bright eyes up to his.

Outside, the grass was cool beneath her feet, and the blades folded softly where she trod, their neighbours reaching up to tickle her ankles. The sky was calm blue, flecked with fluffy clouds and the sunlight gave life and vivacity to dying leaves. Fresh upon her cheeks, the air was refreshing, and for the time being at least, Lara felt fresher too, free of the weighty depression which hung over her daily. Tom was sleeping comfortably and had been such a comfort to her the night before, and today her father seemed more bright-eyed than usual. Perhaps things were looking up after all.

The walk to the lakeside was brief and coloured by the song of birds amidst the shoreside trees, carried on a gentle breeze which occasionally caught her long blonde tresses and trailed them out behind her. The breeze caught the light fabric of her halternecked white top, caressed her bare arms and threatened to stiffen her nipples beneath it; she had only pulled her jeans on over panties when she awoke, and her bra still lay upon the floor beside the bed in which her brother was so soundly asleep.

"It really is nice out today," she said simply, and idly she wondered how often her father had come down to the lakeside in his youth, and if the scene was always so picturesque. She supposed it must have been: the trees which stood either side of the boathouse had been there for decades, and the boathouse itself was now in need of a fresh coat of paint. It must have looked beautiful when it had first been built.

 

[Assficianado]

Ray walked alongside of his daughter in somewhat of a daze. Even though he hadn’t a hangover to speak of, and even though he more rested than he had been in weeks, the damage had been done. His losses had proved to be too much for him. He had stood a small chance of coming out the other side of his personal crucible intact, but that small chance had been shattered by his retreat into alcohol. He had thought himself strong…indeed, everyone he knew would have called him a strong, well balanced man… but the truth was far different. The truth was that Ray had walked a thin line for years…the line between sanity and madness, between hope and despair, between strength and weakness…and even as he teetered along the precipice, he had neither seen nor even suspected the yawning chasm that he skirted…and now that he had fallen into it, he was lost. He was aware of how he was supposed to act, but Ray had become a different person…and as he strolled along the overgrown path with his young daughter, he knew it.

"It really is nice out today." Lara’s voice shook him from his reverie, and as he looked over at her, he paused for a few moments before saying “It’s beautiful”. He knew that she was referring to the soft breeze, to the calm, flat lake, and to the gentle, early morning sunshine, but as Ray stared at his daughter, he wasn’t thinking about the day. He wasn’t thinking about the grass beneath his feet or the blue sky above his head. He wasn’t concerned with the warm sunlight on his face, and he couldn’t appreciate the soft breeze which caressed his face even as it carried the songs of the birds to his ears. All he could think about was Lara, and as the path diverged, one wending its way along the shore with the other leading to the door of the boathouse, Ray gentle pulled her towards the latter.

Ray wasn’t completely mad. No, not by any means…he knew what was right and what was wrong, and he knew how he was expected to act, but he felt as if he didn’t have to live up to those expectations anymore. Something inside him…some broken part of his psyche…told him that he was released from those obligations and expectations that others had of him. The voice in his head, the voice that spoke in his voice, told him, You expected that your mother would grow old, and that didn’t happen. You expected that your son would grow to enjoy a long life…and now he’s dead. You expected your wife to be at your side while you both grew old together, but now she’s a shell. Expectations? They’re obviously meaningless, Ray, so nobody can expect anything from you.

As he looked over at his daughter, Ray could see so much of his Alice in her…but he also saw the young, nubile girl that she was. The breeze that made her blonde tresses trail behind her also pressed her halter top against her breasts, and as the thin material clung to and outlined her small breasts and stiff nipples, Ray stared openly at her, unconcerned whether she saw him or not, for in that moment, he began to think of Lara not just as his daughter, but as his property.

Everything had been taken away from him, or almost everything, but Lara was his. He made her, and she belonged to him. Devin…well…they had taken Devin away. He hadn’t been ready, but he knew how they were now, and he wouldn’t let them take his Lara. Ray didn’t consciously think about who they were, for they were just a part of his madness. They were the ones who took Devin, and they were the ones who might try to take Lara and…maybe…Tom. But Tom is strong enough to fight them…Lara isn’t. She needs me…and I need her.

As they walked hand in hand towards the boathouse, Ray looked at Lara as Lara looked all about her. As his eyes ran over her face and body, Ray felt himself begin to stiffen…and even though he was well aware that his growing erection stemmed from his daughter, he felt no shame or guilt. She was his property, after all…and since she loved him, she would do as he asked of her. It’s what daughters did for their fathers, right?

As he led her up the three stairs and into the boathouse, a thought kept running through his mind. I need her now. I need her now. I need her now. As she passed by him, Ray stared at Lara’s back. Her tousled hair lay on her shoulders, the smooth, bare skin exposed by her halter top drawing his attention before his eyes fell to her ass. Her jeans clung tightly to her small bottom , and as Ray slowly turned the deadbolt to lock the door, he wondered if Lara’s ass felt like his Alice’s.

Ray’s parent’s old Chriscraft hung in davits above the still water below, the boat and the walkway around it heavy with dust. To the right was the guest bedroom, and that walkway was swept wood, for his mother paid a woman to keep the bedroom ready in case of unexpected guests. Ray looked up into the exposed rafters to see a canoe and a number of coolers hanging by their handles. Fishing rods, heavy with dust, lined one side of the little boathouse while water skis leaned against the other.

“We had some good times…” Ray spoke softly as he walked past Lara. Opening the door to the little bedroom, he looked back at her and said “I guess they’re all gone now?” His eyes welled with tears, and even though he truly felt that way, there was another part of Ray that was calm, even calculating. That part, that part that had so recently emerged, knew that Lara was a kind hearted, loving girl, and so planned to use her goodness to his advantage.

After waving her through the door into the tiny bedroom, Ray looked around for a moment. The same small dresser sat in the same corner…the same tiny bathroom, no shower… and, against the wall, the same full sized bed. The comforter was different, but it was the same bed. It was all clean, but it would have looked the same 20 years ago.

He looked at everything, but then his eyes returned to Lara. She was standing just a few feet from him…her feet bare, her jeans hugging her small hips and thighs, her loose halter top giving him glimpses of the curvature of her small breasts… and even as tears began to roll down his face, his cock began to stiffen even further beneath his linen slacks. He wasn’t aware of it, but he looked at Lara with a hunger that heretofore had been reserved for his wife… but as his wife wasn’t coming back, he still had his other property to do with as he would.

As tears ran down his cheeks, Ray closed the distance between them and wrapped Lara in a crushing embrace. One part of him took solace as he held his daughter…but the other side of Ray, the newly emergent Ray, felt a lust such as he had never felt before. Ray could feel Lara’s breasts against his chest, could feel his rapidly hardening cock pressing against her belly, and as he buried his head in her hair, he could smell her shampoo…the same shampoo he had washed her hair with when she was a little girl.

His voice choking a little, his lips buried in her hair, Ray said “Your daddy needs you, honey. Will you…will you help your daddy?” Ray knew what he was going to do. In that instant, he knew. The newly emergent Ray easily rationalized his actions, but the old Ray, the Ray that should have been horrified, sat mute and silent in another corner of his mind.

 

[YellowSmoke]

The interior of the boathouse brought Lara sepia-filtered memories which were not her own; they were her father's memories, fabricated in her own imagination of how he must have played here when he was young. She saw her grandmother too, her image drawn from pictures she had seen of the woman from before Lara was born, and she imagined times both happy and mischievous, her father and grandmother smiling and laughing, or the former running from the latter as she sought to punish him for some misgiving. That was a superimposition of her own real memories of times when she had misbehaved, and she wondered if there had been a playfulness in her grandmother's pursuit of Ray, a benevolence even beneath impending punishment.

All of the memories - real and imagined - were shattered when Lara turned and saw her father crying; she was wrenched back to reality with a confusion whose undercurrents she understood, but the suddenness of it all caught her unawares. He had seemed so happy this morning, as though finally - or at least temporarily - free of the crushing grief which weighed upon their family. Her eyes widened but then he was moving to her, clutching her desperately to his chest and she was frozen in his arms. He needed her comfort, she knew, but it had always been his job to comfort her, his task to ensure that she was safe from pain and suffering; she had no experience in dealing with the roles reversed. But he needed her now. Gingerly, she curled her arms around his waist and held him, feeling every bit like the horse with the reins in his hooves.

"Yes," she replied, feeling tears well in her own eyes. How could she be strong if he was not? He was the man of her house, the rock in her ocean of torment, but now she must hold him steadfast against the tides of grief. "Yes, of course."

His change of mood had come so unexpectedly that she too felt the same waves assaulting her person, the same sudden crash of sequential losses pressing upon innocent shoulders, but she felt too the tears of her father upon her shoulder and somehow that steeled her as much as it weakened her. They couldn't both collapse - one must hold up the other - and if she must be the strong one now, away from the eyes of others (even Tom... perhaps especially Tom), then she must be strong. Whatever her father needed, she was here for him. If not she, then who else could support him in this time of need?

She clutched him tighter to her body, her breasts pressing against the lower portion of his chest where his ribs met his stomach and she felt his warmth against her own, and the gentle shudder which choked his voice. Her tears welled again and she fought them back - be strong Lara. He needs you. She was emotional, bare to the grievous reality which had become their lives: his life and hers, and even Tom's, though he slept soundly in his room. She felt the pain which besieged the collective life of their family, and she was vulnerable.

"I love you, dad..." The words came spontaneously and without thought; she heard them pass her lips more than she willed them to, and she meant them. Nestling her head upon his firm shoulder, she said them again: "I love you."

 

[Assficianado]

His daughter’s embrace would have been enough, but hearing her say I love you sealed her fate. Ray had never been in the boathouse with the adult Lara. She had been 11 or 12 the last time he had taken her in here…but countless were the times he and Alice had slept in the little guest room. In fact, it was the second place he and Alice had made love, so the tiny room was filled with many memories…

...and most of them involved making love to his wife. As he held Lara’s small body against his, Ray suddenly found that he was having difficulty separating his physical feelings and his emotions, both current and those of the past. He could feel Lara’s heart beating against his belly, felt her breasts against his chest and her arms around his back…he could feel the soft cotton of her top and the warmth of her skin as he held her in his arms…he could smell the scent of her shampoo as he buried his nose in her hair…he remembered how often it had started this way, with their innocent hugs quickly evolving into hours spent making love…but that was Alice, and this is Lara.

Ray knew that the woman…girl…he held was not his wife…was, in fact, his daughter…but she felt so much like Alice, and she looked so much like Alice…and he needed her to be like Alice and give herself to him like Alice would, if only for a little while…for, while Ray had shed, or been stripped of, many of the things that made him a good father and husband, one of the things that had remained, had in fact grown, was his libido. It was as if he knew just how much he was failing his children and his wife as a father, husband, and man…and the easiest way to fill that hole, to feel like a man again…was sex.

But it wasn’t quite that simple. Ray…the father and husband…was still inside him, even though he was beaten down. That Ray needed love, simple love, and he knew his daughter would provide it. That Ray needed Lara to embrace him and tell him that all would be well…but that Ray was far weaker than the Ray that currently held Lara. That Ray knew what the other Ray was about to do, and although he was dismayed, he couldn’t help but look on with a perverse anticipation.

“I love you.” To Ray, to the Ray who had constituted himself from the ashes of the old Ray, those three words told him that she was giving him leave to do as he would with her. Ray, the Ray that was her daddy, knew that she meant no such thing, but he was powerless to stop what was about to happen even had he wanted to…but as he looked on as in a movie, he wondered if he would.

Ray, though smaller than Tom, was still far larger than Lara, and it was a simple matter for him to lift his daughter off of her feet and lower her onto the bed. Keeping her pinned beneath him, Tom looked into her blue eyes and whispered “Then love me, honey…I need you, and I need your love” as he slid his hands down between their bodies. It was a simple matter for Ray to unbutton the single button of her jeans and slide her zipper down, for Lara was powerless to stop him. Her arms had been clasped around his back when he lowered himself atop her, and even though he felt her arms moving about, he was able to pull her jeans and panties down to her knees with relative ease.

“Shhhh…shhhh…he whispered when he saw her open her mouth. “Please, baby…please…just do this for daddy…love daddy, and let daddy love you…just for a little while.” With her jeans and panties down, Ray ripped the button off his slacks in his eagerness before lowering his zipper and shoving his own pants down to his knees. His stiff cock, now free, pressed against Lara’s smooth belly. “Shhhh..shhhh…” Ray slid down her body a bit until he felt the head of his cock pressing against her labia. Pushing forwards a little, he was going to thrust himself inside her when Ray, the father, spoke to Ray, the Phoenix. Don’t. Don’t hurt her.

Lara’s was trapped beneath Ray’s far larger body, but even so, Ray used only as much weight and power as he needed to keep her beneath him. Taking her right hand in his, he slipped it between their bodies and placed it on his thick cock. “I don’t---I don’t want to hurt you, honey…guide me into you.”