Mouse Bk. 06 Ch. 02

"So try something new. Ask the waiter what the least popular dish on the menu is, and get that."

Mouse turned to glare at him. He expected something nasty to come out of her mouth, and the tone was certainly there, but the words didn't match.

"What are you getting?"

Michael held her gaze.

"It doesn't matter. I've already got what I want."

Mouse softened abruptly, the ice in her face melting before his eyes. She stretched one hand across the table to grab his own, squeezing it and pulling it closer to hers, so she could continue to hold it, and stroke it tenderly with one thumb. Michael looked down at the wedding bands they'd both agreed to wear tonight.

She did this in spite of the fact that across the courtyard, just visible beside the fountain, were two couples, friends of their parents, who had known them both since they were kids. Michael fought the urge to glance at them, to see if they were watching.

"I don't care if they see us," Mouse said.

"Neither do I," Michael lied.

Except that if they did get caught, if everyone knew, they'd inevitably throw a fit. Their worlds would come crashing down. There would be embarrassment and shame, and fights and expressions of disappointment, and probably counseling and years of sidelong looks and whispered conversations by friends and neighbors and relatives. The word "incest" would be spoken in hushed tones by everyone whenever they were seen even near each other.

And so Mouse would want him all the more, forever.

<8 Dalliance

"Come on, Mouse. Let's go."

Mouse didn't even reply.

Melanie had forgotten how annoying Mouse's tardiness could be. She acted as if time and schedules didn't apply to her. Rules didn't apply. Her approach to her sex life didn't stop there. It permeated everything.

Hell, if she was going to be hopelessly in love with her own brother, what did being on time for dinner matter?

She didn't seem to understand that Melanie really meant it when she said that Tieri's was crowded, and that they took reserved seating very seriously. If you missed your window, it was like you'd never had a reservation. You went to the bottom of the list, and that meant you might as well go elsewhere, unless you wanted to be seated after midnight.

It was a shame that Michael couldn't come, both because she loved his company, and because he might have been able to actually get Mouse out the door, since doing otherwise meant he would be late, too. As it was, he had a lot of work to do that night to prepare for an important meeting in the morning, something about inventory overages and cost cutting. He was stressed out about it, too, so even if he did come, he wouldn't be any fun.

Too, he probably wouldn't keep his hands off of Mouse. The two of them had gotten way out of control lately. Melanie didn't know if it was their parent's absence, or some sense of acceptance due to her own sinfully stupid involvement months back, or if the relationship had just lasted now for so long, through so many twisted episodes, that they didn't care anymore.

It was almost as if they'd forgotten that they were committing incest, and that the rest of the population of the country would not look too kindly on their behavior.

Doug and Rick were watching a baseball game on her parent's big plasma TV. They would stay pretty solidly rooted there until Melanie told them to move it, so they really didn't mind Mouse's intransigence. Jenn stood behind them, not interested in the game, but unable to find anything else to do. Dan was waiting impatiently in the car.

Melanie walked to the kitchen to get a quick drink of water before they left. She was going to need it, because she was going to scold Mouse the entire drive there, especially if they got a speeding ticket.

* * *

Michael's lips moved over Mouse's in the artful way that only he had. It was as if he had a thousand little hands in his lips, each of them independently pressing and caressing and pleasing her own, all at once. His tongue could be ever so gentle and tender, too, carefully, calmly, but forcefully exploring her mouth, sending shivers through her body.

And then there were his actual hands. He had one flat against her back, holding her powerfully, immovably against him. She loved that feeling, the feeling of being possessed and restrained, almost forced into the incestuous kiss by him, as if that would ever be necessary.

The excitement of the feeling actually related to one fantasy that he refused to act out with her, one where he forced himself on her in the basement of the house. He said he just could never hurt her that way. She'd said that she wouldn't mind, it wouldn't be hurting her, it would just be forcing her to do what she really wanted, and thrilling her by doing it.

He still said no, but she knew he'd give in eventually.

As if he could sense her mind wandering, Michael redoubled the passion behind the kiss, pulling her more firmly to him while pressing his mouth harder against hers, forcing her head back and her body into an arc. His other hand gripped her ass. His hand was so large, his splayed fingers could almost cover one entire cheek, with his curling fingers indenting and pulling on the flesh in an irresistibly arousing way.

Mouse lost herself in the frightening and electrifying sensations of being taken and possessed by her brother.

* * *

Melanie froze in the entryway to the kitchen.

So that was what was taking so long. They had to say good bye, and then they had to get carried away.

Melanie started to clear her throat, then constricted her muscles, braking herself before she could start. Instead, she simply stayed there, leaning against the archway, watching her baby brother kiss their baby sister.

They did it with such passion. Melanie really doubted that there were many couples that got it right the way Michael and Mouse did, even though it was so wrong. Michael showed just the right amount of power and control, and tenderness and care. He held Mouse at once like an over eager boy holds a new puppy, gawky and clumsy, all rambunctious energy and fumbling strength. At the same time, though, he almost smothered her with his bulk, protecting her, trying to keep her safe, to keep the world away. He succeeded, too, his massive frame was the perfect shield for her, whenever she needed it.

Mouse was like a waif in his big arms, but moving with the same feral and independent rebellion that her personality displayed. Yet, at the same time, with him, in his embrace, some she was also as pliant and gentle as a kitten. She surrendered herself to him, instantly and totally, letting him mold and maneuver her in ways no one else on earth was allowed. In his arms, she let herself become his, totally and completely and without reservation.

She knew how they each kissed, too. She'd kissed them both, sensually and sexually, with both disastrous, and wondrous, effects. Michael was at first shy and probing, ever so careful not to offend or to overstep his bounds. As the kiss grew in passion, he became a powerhouse, a huge force that thrust itself upon you and marauded where ever and however it would.

Mouse, with her petite little mouth, was an eager, mischievous vixen, never hesitating, with lips and a tongue that danced and fluttered all about, never being still for a moment, always tickling and tasting and wandering, always finding more and more pleasurable things to do. Kissing Mouse was never dull.

Melanie shifted in place, recognizing an unwanted excitement inappropriately growing within her.

* * *

Mouse realized that they'd been at it for far too long. She was surprised that Melanie hadn't called her in frustration. She'd said something about Tieri's being strict on their reservations. She supposed she had better get moving.

Mouse moved two hands up Michael's broad chest. It wasn't as firm as it had been some months ago. For a while he had worked out, hard, to get himself into shape just for her. Now, the flab was returning. He just couldn't keep it up forever. Still, his chest felt big, and wide, and powerful, made all the more exciting because beneath his shirt was a bed of half graying hair that she was always dying to run her fingers through.

She slipped her hands up to his chin, to hold his marauding mouth more steadily against her own, then abruptly she pushed him away, relaxing her own legs to drop from tip toes back to the floor. His hands held her even more tightly then, his signal that he hadn't had enough. Pleased by his insistence, she turned her head to bury it in his chest, then slipped her own arms around his waist to hold him as best as her tiny frame could.

She opened her eyes.

Melanie was standing in the archway looking. She should have looked annoyed, but instead her face held a calm, teasing smile, a smile that bordered on predatory. She looked at Mouse for a moment, holding her gaze, keeping her smile, then turned and left without a word.

* * *

Mouse peered at herself in the bathroom mirror, touching up her makeup after having ordered her dinner, but before the meal arrived. Melanie was checking her hair at the adjacent sink. For one moment there was no one else there with them.

"How long were you watching us kiss?"

"Not long."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was enjoying the show."

"It wasn't a show."

"Bullshit. I think you knew I'd come in. You put on a lot of shows, and you love being watched, and you know it."

Melanie walked away to dry her hands.

"I thought you didn't approve of the public displays of affection," Mouse said.

"It wasn't too public. It was just in the kitchen, and just for me."

"Your kids could have walked in instead of you. That would have been pretty public."

"But they didn't, and then I stood guard, to make sure it stayed that way."

"So you don't care anymore that your family might have seen your little sister kissing your brother?"

"Yes, I do, but I don't care if I see you. I rather enjoy it, actually."

Mouse looked at her askance. Melanie was smiling straight at her. It was that same, predacious smile.

Without another word, Mouse went back to the dinner table, feeling confused.

<8 The New Ball Game

The air changed abruptly. Gusts of wind whipped about with surprising power. All of the trees writhed in place, with one set of branches twisting one way, while another set of leaves of the same tree collapsed in on the trunk, as if an invisible giant had fallen into it. Swirling, gusting, raging winds stormed in to molest all of the trees at once, like an unseen army of giants flailing about, playing a strange game, bouncing off of the trees.

The scent in the air changed, too. It felt charged with electricity, at once dry and damp, and spiced with a metallic tang. The sky to the west was very dark. It blackened as the storm cruised in.

"Okay, looks like next basket wins," Mouse said.

"Next basket wins? You're down by a thousand."

"I'm sure it's no more than a few hundred, you shit. And anyway, it's not a fair game."

"Because you're so tiny? Hey, that's the breaks, in hoops."

"No, because you're so slimy, and I don't want to even touch you. Defending you is like defending a swamp creature. A giant, slimy, frog."

Michael bumped her purposely, then spun around her and just as purposely missed the layup. Mouse grabbed the ball, dribbling frantically and awkwardly out to the three point line. Michael admired her ass as she went, again very purposefully being slow to follow her, giving her room to shoot.

The one thing she was good at was outside shots. She'd hit a surprising number of them, when he let her take them.

She missed this one, but it ricocheted across the driveway to his parked car, where she scurried first to collect it and shoot again. He made a show of running across her path, waving his hand across her face but not coming near the path of the ball. She buried it.

Instead of cheers and childish, inane, over the top celebration, she glared at him.

"You let me win."

"I did not. You took the shot. It went in. You win."

"Don't let me win, Michael. You always do that. You give in and let me have my way. You let me win, you let me choose the restaurant, you act like you don't matter at all."

"That's not true. I'm selfish in lots of ways."

"Yes, you are."

"What does that mean?"

"Forget it. Let's go in."

As she said it, huge, widely scattered drops of rain thumped the ground and pinged off the hood of the car.

"No. Tell me what you mean."

"I don't mean anything. You're just selfish. Come on, I don't want to get wet."

Mouse tried to go, but Michael took her thin upper arm in one vice like hand. He didn't say anything.

"Let go, you're too slimy to touch me. God, you sweat like a horse."

Michael still didn't answer. Mouse stopped talking, too, choosing instead to glare up at him. Her sudden anger shocked him. He glared back, though, unwilling to back down, especially since that was apparently part of the problem.

After an uncomfortable moment, as the frequency of the drops rapidly increased, threatening to unleash a torrent at any moment, Michael spoke.

"Come on, I'm not letting you in until you talk to me."

Light flashed brightly at the start of his sentence, like a photographer's flash bulb taking a picture. His last words were completely drowned out by a tremendous crack of thunder, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, and almost feels as if it makes the earth shake with it's frightening power.

Mouse jerked, startled, in his grasp, at the sound.

She pulled away fiercely now, but with no real hope of breaking his grip, despite his slippery sweat.

"Let go!"

It was a bellow, now, full throated, and very angry.

Michael gave up trying to talk to her. He grabbed her shoulder with his other hand, gripping her hard, and spinning her about. She fought him the entire time, as occasional drops slapped his face with a mild sting. Her dark eyes, pupils wide and black, glared up at him, but with as much sorrow as anger.

Michael felt himself draining into those eyes, like water poured from a pitcher into a vase.

He didn't even realize he was kissing her until her tongue came out to meet his. Her tiny hands pressed on his chest, ineffectually pushing him back. His own hands held her firmly against him, pulling her all the more tightly as she pushed away. In some small recess of his mind he remembered that they were on the driveway, in front of the house, where anyone could see.

He didn't care as the kiss continued while the rain finally let loose, shooting a machine gun spray of water bullets down on both of them. Mouse didn't seem to mind, either. Her mouth opened wider, her hands found his cheeks, and her feverish lips wandered over his, licking rain water from his lips.

"You fucking prick," she said into his mouth, before kissing him again.

She stood on tip toes to reach him. He let his hand drift down her back, squeezing the tight, firm globes of her taut ass, while pulling her into him, making her feel the sudden bulge she'd inspired in his shorts.

She broke the kiss again, to pant into his ear. Rain drops poured down the flanks and back of his bald scalp, with no hair to absorb and restrain it. He could feel her licking the droplets from him, catching rivulets of rain as they scurried down his head.

"Get your fucking hands off of me, dork."

She said it with her fingers firmly interlocked behind his neck, using her grip to pull her diminutive frame up to his level, aided by his hands digging into her ass, lifting her to him.

* * *

In a sudden rush, like a stray leaf blown free of it's branch and caught in the whipping wind of the storm, Michael lifted her up and carried her, not to the house, but to his car, where he dropped her forcefully onto the hood. The sound of her ass thumping down was a mini thunderclap, followed immediately by another, true, loud and vibrating crack, as if the storm were daring her to compare herself to it.

Before she could complain about his rough handling, he grabbed her legs and pulled them apart, while burying his head in her neck, then just a quickly taking one damp breast in his mouth. Her t-shirt was already matted down, first from sweat, and now more thoroughly from the torrential sheets of rain.

She tipped her head back, catching the drops, as Michael's precious mouth sent her own bolts of lightning shooting through her nipple, through the flesh of her tit, and out into her ribs and body.

Michael tugged frantically at her shorts. She didn't realize that her anger could make him so bold. She herself wasn't sure that this wasn't much to daring for her, the idea of fucking on the hood of his car, in daylight, in the driveway in front of their parent's house.

* * *

Michael pulled her shorts down, then up, raising her legs, and off in one swift, unstoppable motion. Mouse cooperated fully, gymnastically twisting in place to make it easy. It took bare moments for Michael to slip his thumbs into his waistband to pull down his own loose basketball trunks and jockstrap in another smooth motion.

The rain, driven at an extreme angle, hammered into his back, and the now naked cheeks of his ass and thighs.

Mouse's eyes burned with all of the black fury of the storm around him as she glared first at him, then at his erect, angry cock. Both of her tiny hands lashed out, grabbing him, stripping the rain from his sliding with smooth, sliding tugs.

"I fucking hate you, you selfish prick."

Michael grabbed her damp hair, pulling her painfully into another kiss. In contrast to her words, her hands clamped on his skull, just as fiercely pulling his lips against hers.

His cock was cold and wet, drenched in drain water, then instantly, fantastically burning along its entire length in the fire of her juicy cunt after one fast, long thrust, ardently guided in by her own tiny hands. The wetness of the flesh inside her betrayed her passion. She moaned loudly into his kiss as he filled her, before tearing her mouth away.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you bastard, you fucking bastard."

Her hands grabbed his soaked t-shirt in bunches, threatening to tear holes in it has she pulled him down onto her, falling herself onto her back. Rain slammed around them onto the hood of the car with a rapid staccato of metallic pings echoing nature's fury. Michael matched the rain, showing no tenderness, thrusting quickly in and out of his bratty little sister with the hard, fast, deep stabs of his cock.

* * *

Mouse looked down, between them, to where her brother joined with her. Her passion redoubled as she watched his cock, long and thick, glistening wet with nature's rain as well as her own, disappearing inside her. He would take it out, reminding her of it's size, and it's erect, excited, incredibly hard state. Then he would bury it in her, thrusting in, as inch after inch of its length vanished from her sight, while she felt it, she felt inch after inch of her brother's cock stretching her cunt, spreading her, and filling her.

"I hate you, Michael. I fucking hate you. But I love your cock. I love your fucking cock."

She pulled her legs up over his shoulders, opening herself to him fully, helping his to cock bury itself inside her as far as it could go. She whimpered into the sky, her mouth open, catching rain drops, and warring with the storm with her own noises. Another crack of thunder shook the world around her.

She was soaked to the bone, now, they both were, outside and inside. Michael's broad torso lowered itself onto her, sheltering her, keeping her from the storm, keeping her to himself. She nibbled on his ear. With as much anger as she could, she barked into it.

"You fucking selfish pig. Fucking your little sister in front of the whole neighborhood you selfish, fucking, evil pig. Get the fuck off of me."