Collision Ch. 01

Brett groaned and ran a hand over his hard cock, hating himself but unable to stop looking. Just this last time, he promised himself, like the countless other guilty times. He greedily kept flipping, over and over, his arousal heating his blood up to the point that he shivered when a cool wind blew in from the ocean and caressed his heated body.

He raised his head and looked from his perch on a piece of driftwood at the edge of the water. A cloud cover had settled in while he had been indulging himself and there were little whitecaps in the sea now, driven by a breeze that was rapidly rising up. In only his thin t-shirt, Brett started to feel the cold. He felt another little shiver run down his body. So much for a summer's day.

Just as he was wondering whether to stay or go back to the house, a hand landed on his shoulder.

On instinct, he whirled around, lashing out, his hand connecting with something; and he shouted out in pain as something cut into him.

Jody stumbled and fell back, landing hard on the packed sand, her hands clutching his torn shirt to the front of her face.

"I think you broke my nose, you bastard," she said from between her hands, her voice muffled but calm, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. Tears were running down her face. "Should never have followed you here."

Brett's heart was still thundering in his chest but he was rapidly regaining his composure. The quiet use of the epithet from his normally mild-mannered sister didn't help.

"You're right. You shouldn't have. What part of 'leave me the fuck alone' don't you understand?" he asked, matching her calm tone, trying desperately to slow down the blood rushing through his veins.

"It was getting cooler. I wondered if you'd want the shirt anyway, even though it was torn and so..."

"Jody, fuck the shirt. Did I say I wanted it?"

Belligerence would save him, he decided, like always.

Her blue eyes flashed at him and she looked like she could kill him right there. "Why does anyone ever bother with you?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Probably because you're the stupid ones?" He gave her one anyway.

They glared at each other for a while before he realized he might have actually broken her nose.

"Let me see," he said awkwardly and gestured towards her face.

She moved her hands, fingers pressing gently, trying to assess the damage. More tears flowed down her cheeks as the pads of her fingers felt around her nose, up and down the bridge and on the sides.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked her.

"Not so much anymore. I think you kind of hit just below the nose actually, thank God. Do I have a split lip or anything?"

He peered at her closely.

"Open your mouth."

She did.

"No," he said finally, "but there's blood on your teeth I think."

Jody eyes were fixed on something.

"Oh my God!"

What? God, had she seen his...?

Brett followed her gaze to a cut on the back of his right hand, bleeding so much that a dark red line of blood ran from the cut almost down to the end of his middle finger.

"Shit, you think you nicked a vein or something?" Jody asked, panic in her eyes.

He angled the hand to look more closely and shook his head no.

"It would be flowing much more freely if it was a vein. This is just a surface cut." He wiped the blood off with his left hand. "Grandma, what sharp teeth you have!" he said absently, trying to cover his embarrassment and calm his jangled nerves at the whole scene.

Jody started laughing. "The better to eat you with, my dear," she replied automatically. "Here, clean it with this." She offered him the torn shirt.

He took it and awkwardly started dabbing it at his hand.

Jody moved closer to him and tried to take control of it.

"What? I'm doing it," he said irritably, smacking her hand away. He was too raw from his thoughts earlier and his normal defense was kind of shaky with the chain of events unfolding as it had. He didn't want her to play nice with him right now or he might just crumble.

She sat back then and watched him pat at it clumsily, cleaning the blood and having a good look at it. The skin had broken around what could hazily be identified as tooth-marks now that they knew where his hand had likely connected.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's not your fault," he replied, looking down at the wound. "It's nothing anyway, will be okay in a couple of days." He wound the cloth around his hand tightly and left it there.

"You should come home and let me dress it."

"Nah, that won't be necessary. As I said, just a small cut. It'll heal on its own."

"And you?" Jody asked.

He raised his eyes to her, surprised at the tenderness in her voice.

"Have I neglected you, Brett?" she asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"What you said earlier, about me being the perfect sister and you not measuring up... I hadn't even thought... I mean, I knew mom and dad have high expectations from the both of us and well, I just hadn't realized that you were that affected by the... the overzealous driving, and I didn't know you felt that way about me. I mean... I don't quite know what to say. I just want you to know... to say... sorry, I guess."

Jody stood there, wringing her hands, not meeting his eyes.

"Forget what I said earlier. I was just angry," he said, trying to make amends.

A small, sad smile touched her face. "You think I believe that?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Let's just say it doesn't quite ring true. Anyway, it's getting colder. Let's go home."

She smiled at him and bent to pick up something from the ground.

Brett looked down just as her hand touched it... and with a sense of horror, watched her pick it up. She stilled for a second while straightening, then brought the phone closer and looked.

They both stood there, frozen.

"What...?" she said, weakly, her voice faint with shock.

She raised her gaze and looked at him, eyes wide.

Her eyes went back to the phone and she started swiping her thumb over the screen, going through the pictures.

Brett came to life and snatched the phone away from her grasp. "Yeah, let's go." He said the first words that came to his mind, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

Jody's gaze followed his hands, then snapped to his crotch -- his erection. Her mouth opened wordlessly, her face a mask of utter disbelief.

"You... you even...?"

His face heated up as her incredulity got to him.

"Brett, what? How? How did you even get them?"

"Your laptop," he mumbled. "That time mine went for repairs? I used yours... and they were there. So I accidentally saw them." He hung his head, trying to disappear into the earth.

"And you accidentally copied them too?"

What could he say?

"Answer me," she said, her voice cold with fury.

Belligerence, his mind screamed.

"No, I copied them deliberately," he burst out. "Where are you coming from anyway, spreading your body like a slut? What did you do with them? Put them on some porn website? Sent them to your admirers? What's wrong when I see them and get off too, huh?"

She slapped him. Once, sharp across his face.

"It's none of your business what I did, you asshole. But to stop your filthy brain from making up more shit, I sent them to Jake."

Jake, her ex.

Brett felt like the lowest of the lowlifes he could think of, reminding her of that harrowing time in her life. She had barely gotten out of the funk from when he had left her, and now here he was, reminding her of it.

The anger left her. "Is that what you think of me, Brett? A slut?"

"Jody, no, I'm sorry," he said, genuine regret lacing his words. "I don't."

"Then how could you?"

Brett struggled to say something, anything, to explain his feelings for her, but everything that went through his brain felt unsuitable. How could he explain his love, his need, his passion for her? How could he even begin to put it in words?

"Jody, I love you," he said simply.

He could see she didn't believe him by the expression on her face. Before she could say anything though, he went on.

"Not just 'love you.' I'm in love with you. Like... not like a sister, Jody. Like a woman."

Her face was frozen, expressionless. Brett wanted her to react, even hit him again, or abuse him, call him filthy... anything, not this quietness.

"I know it's wrong. I swear I've tried to keep away from you. In every way... tried to stop you from getting too close to me, you have to believe that."

She was too still.

He couldn't see her like that. There was only one thing he could do to show her the depth of his feeling for her. He took the one step that separated them and touched his lips to her.

She flinched away from him like he had branded her.

He took her face in his hands and tried to look into her eyes. "Please, Jody," he begged, "Please, you have to believe me. I didn't... I don't think of you as anything other than an angel. That's what you are -- my angel. There's nothing dirty about what I feel for you, Jody. It's as pure as any love anybody ever felt for anyone. Please believe me."

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

His need to make her believe him overwhelmed him. She had to accept what he was saying. She meant too much to him to let her go on believing that his sordid accusation had any basis. Didn't she see he couldn't think of her as a slut? He had to make her believe him.

He bent his head down and took her lips again. "I love you," he said against her lips, between kisses. "I love you more than anything, Jody. Please believe that."

She pushed against his stomach.

He clutched her upper arms and pushed himself into her. "Please, Jody. I'm begging you. Please. I'm a fuck-up and I ruin everything, but I swear to God what I said back there... I don't really believe that. I don't."

He felt her body relax and let go against his. Like the effort to hold herself up was too much after his betrayal. Or maybe she finally did believe him.

"I love you, Jody," he said, and kissed her.

The kiss was not merely an effort to comfort her. It was his pent up love, his passion for her, his confusion about his feelings, his need to make her see himself through his eyes. It was not a kiss between siblings; it was a kiss between a man and a woman.

He pushed his body into hers in unmistakable need and felt her come to life. She squirmed, trying to get out of his embrace. But once the floodgates had opened, they wouldn't close. Now that she was in front of him, aware of his need for her, Brett wanted her with a hunger that threatened to consume everything in his mind. It was a raw, pure need and he was helplessly in its control, driven by it.

"Please don't turn away," he begged. "Please not now. Now that you know how I love you and how I want you... please, I need you...." He lost himself in the words as he pressed himself against her.

Jody tried pushing him away. "Brett, no. No. This is not right... no."

"There's nothing not right about honest love," he replied as he struggled to get closer to her.

"I'm your sister... don't...."

But her words were drowned by his pleading, by his insistence and finally by his mouth as he took hers, and both their words were silenced abruptly, drowned in voiceless communication that told her of his need better than any words ever could. He took her like he was drowning, pulled into the tranquil depths of a blue as deep as her eyes.

She twisted, trying to guide him away, but was no match for his wiry strength and strong need.

Brett couldn't think of anything else but her mouth under his, her body against his and his need throbbing in every part of his body. His hands settled on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and in some part of his mind he felt her working at his wrists, trying to dislodge his grip. But in time her efforts got weaker and weaker and his confidence grew, making his hands wander to the sweet mounds of her breasts.

He grabbed greedily, pressing, squeezing, marauding as the handfuls of flesh that he had seen numerous times in his pictures and his fantasies were finally molded by his palms. His hands roamed across her body, feeling all of her within his reach, one minute at her breasts, the other caressing her back and her bottom, pulling her against him. Brett twisted against her, drinking her in, intoxicated.

In some part of his brain, he became aware of the noises they were making. His groans and grunts coupled with soft mews from her. The faint scrape of their teeth against each other as he devoured her, the whisper of his hands slipping over her blouse. Incoherent words of love, longing and desire that spilled from him as he rained kisses all over her upturned face.

Time both stood still and flew, so one minute he was kissing her, and the next he was pulling her down to the sand, taking her in his arms and settling her down gently as he cradled her with his body draped over hers. Belatedly, he took a quick look around to make sure they were alone. Yes, the beach was deserted, the late morning coupled with the time of the year driving away most people other than wastrels like him.

He never stopped touching her, kissing her, wanting her and he laid her down. His hardness settled into the soft surface of her thigh, and Brett lost all thoughts of gentleness in the urgency that gripped him. He needed to be inside her, bury into her, deep, be one with her and never let go.

He groped at the front of his jeans and then hers, finding buttons and zippers, pulling them open through touch and instinct and blind need, then fumbling inside and pushing the material down, away from her center. His hand touched her heat once, as he struggled with her jeans and his desire spiraled, growing red hot behind his eyes, rising to a fever pitch until he felt nothing could hold him back from losing his control right there, but he held on, dear God, he held on, only to roughly push down her jeans with his legs and off her. He opened her thighs and shoved his hard member between them.

She opened herself to him, a part of his brain registered that. She spread her legs wider to accommodate him, pulling him to her with her hands on his buttocks, locking her heels around his calves as he dove into her.

It was frantic, his need for sinking into her overwhelming in its intensity as Brett thrust into her warm wetness, burying himself within her in quick deep drives. They came together in desperation, almost hurting each other as they bucked and pushed and plunged. It was raw, like animals rutting, but he had lost all sense of civility as soon as he had entered her. He wanted to lose himself, to drown, be swallowed, become one with her.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...."

He heard himself repeating the mantra in a last grip on sanity, and then that was lost too as he felt his passion rise and crest, and he came into her, spilling and crashing and moaning his need into her neck, disembodied, washed away by the force of his ecstasy like a grain of sand in the tempestuous waters behind them. On the heels of that thought came the warm feeling of her arms wrapped around him, anchoring him to her.

He lay there, floating, breathing into her neck, unable to think, unable to move, awed by the force of what had just happened.

"Brett?"

The cautious voice crashed him back into reality and the horror of what had just happened dawned on him.

He had just raped his sister.

Brett flung himself away from her, scrambling in the sand, trying to move away, get up, scrabbling at his jeans... falling once, then getting his feet under him... and he ran.

"Brett, wait!" the anxious cry followed him. "Where are you going? Brett!!"

He didn't stop. Just ran, blindly, away from her. God, he had to go. He had to get away from her.

* * * * *

Author's note: I'd like to thank LaRascasse for the editing, the prodding and the conversations during the writing of this story.

To the readers: I hope you liked the story. Votes, comments and feedback are always appreciated. I like hearing from you so please do write. Every email with a return address will receive a reply. :)