Incestmas

"You don't have to announce to the world that you have a phone," she said. "I'll be the only one that has your number."

"Oh, a secret phone," he teased.

Brittany rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Okay, you twisted my arm. Why don't we do that tomorrow?" he asked.

"I thought we were getting a shitstorm tonight?"

"We are, but nothing we haven't handled before. Roads should be clear by noon or so. Let's go out and find me a phone."

"Tell you what," Brittany said. "As a Christmas gift, I'll buy you the phone. Put you on my plan. Anything to guarantee that you keep the damn thing."

"No, you don't need to do that," Mark protested.

"Dude, I'm a single, professional woman in the city with no kids. I'm not rich, but an extra phone is not gonna break the bank, either, okay?"

Mark winced. "Are you sure? I really don't want to be a hassle."

Groaning in jest, she buried her head into his shoulder. "Oh, my God, this conversation is more of a hassle than buying you the phone would be."

Throwing hands up in surrender, Mark conceded, grinning. "Okay, okay, fair enough."

By the time Brittany had won the argument, the clear night sky clouded over, eliminating the twinkling stars. In its place, an inky dark covered the house. While they watched from the porch swing, a single crystalline snowflake fell and landed on the wooden railing.

"It begins," she said.

Taking a deep breath, Mark nodded, and slapped a hand to his knee. "Yep. Probably time to get inside and put that wood stove to work."

"But if I get up, I'm gonna be cold again," Brittany whined.

"You're gonna be cold again if I get up, too, so it sounds like you're shit outta luck," he said.

"These are only bad options," she said, pouting.

"Well, if we stay out here long enough, I'll grab some snow and throw it down the back of your shirt. That'll get you moving pretty quick."

"You wouldn't!" Brittany gasped.

"Of course I would! As your little brother, it's basically required by law."

"Fine, let's go inside," she grumbled. "But I'm holding onto you the whole way."

Mark laughed. "Okay, you can hold onto me the entire six feet to the door."

"You're damn right I will," she said.

As he stood, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging. "Okay, I'm ready."

"You know, as the older sister, I expected you to be tougher than this," he said.

"And as the little brother, I expected more heaty, less talky from you, but here we are anyway," she joked. "Now as my personal walking heater, I give you permission to escort me inside."

"Wouldn't want to jeopardize my job title," he said.

"I'm glad you're finally coming around," she said. "You need to listen to me more often."

"Oh, yes, ma'am, will do, ma'am," he said, deepening his voice, and laughing.

A tingle jolted through Brittany; unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Stop it! she thought.

But why? quickly followed another thought.

"Britt? You coming?"

She startled back to reality. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. You left me out here so long, I'm getting hypothermia." Then, playfully, she dropped a little. "I'm getting so sleepy, Mark," she said in a singsong voice.

"Oh, my God," he said, scoffing. "Here we go." Without warning, he leaned down to put his arm around her back and grabbed her legs with the other.

Lifted off the ground, Brittany shrieked in surprise. She threw her arms around Mark's neck and buried her head deep into his shoulder, her legs kicking the whole way.

"I can't hear you over the screaming, but I'll assume it's an appreciative screaming," he said, raising his voice over the din.

Inside the warm house, he carried her to the wood stove in the living room, next to which sat a decent stack of firewood.

"Do I have permission to set you down?" he asked playfully.

"I... don't... know..." she replied, chattering her teeth for effect. "I'm so tired, I might just fall asleep from hypothermia."

"We had a good run, then," he said, leaning her down to the floor.

"Hey!" she shouted. "You're not allowed to give up on me that fast."

"Hush up, you're dying," Mark said. "Dying people don't talk."

"Of course they do."

"Not for long. You'll be dead soon."

"I'm getting better."

"No, you're not. You'll be stone dead in a moment."

Brittany laughed. "You can't use Monty Python to diagnose me."

"Sure, I can. Handy farm trick I've picked up in the last few years."

"Will you start the fire so your sister doesn't freeze to death?"

Mark rubbed at his chin in thought.

"If I die, you'll be all alone without family," she said.

"I already am," he blurted out.

"Whoa! Below the belt, buddy," Brittany protested.

Mark winced. "Sorry, sorry, just sorta came out."

"You can make it up to me by starting the fire while I fill up our drinks," she said, getting to her feet.

"Sounds more than fair," he said, already in motion.

Walking to the kitchen, Brittany stole a glance out a window and gasped. What had been just a single, beautiful snowflake only a minute ago was now a blizzard. "Oh, my God! Look outside," she called to her brother.

"Huh?" He looked away from the stove. "Oh, yeah, that's how fast it'll happen."

"And we're gonna be okay?"

"You act like you didn't grow up here," he said, carefully placing the wood into the stove.

"I'm a city girl now, Mark," she said.

"Oh, yeah, that's very apparent. Anyway, I went through and inspected everything last summer, replacing what needed replacing," he said with a wave of his hand. "I didn't even bother trying to patchwork it. God only knows how old those connections and wires were."

Within minutes, Mark had the wood stove pumping out enough heat to warm an apartment building.

"Amazing how fast I went from hypothermia to blazing," Brittany said, removing her gloves, coat, and knitted cap.

"Every time someone tries to sell me an HVAC, I point to this black cauldron over here and ask if they've got anything that can keep up for a reasonable price. That usually shuts down all the sales talk right there."

With eggnog refills at the ready, brother and sister were back on the couch, each basking in the glow of an HGTV-esque Christmas tree, lights, and burning wood. Brittany's head was light and swimming, entertaining a nice buzz from the drinks.

Feeling good and warm, she sidled back up to her brother and leaned her head on his shoulder. She pointed at the blank TV screen. "You got anything good on that thing?"

Mark smiled and reached for the remote, thankfully nearby enough that he didn't jostle Brittany off the shoulder she was laying on.

"I don't know what you big city folk are watching, but I've been enjoying Space Lasers on Netflix," he said.

"Oh, get out," she said. "Everyone loves Space Lasers. Get it going, let's watch."

Space Lasers: Lasers in Space, a half-hour workplace comedy set onboard a spaceship six hundred years in the future, was a huge hit back at the office. Brittany and her assistant, Shannon, quoted it endlessly, often exchanging memes or gifs when they were bored or irritated at someone.

Needless to say, Brittany had seen every episode released so far several times and still hadn't tired of it. But between the long day of travel, the good buzz, the warmth from the wood stove, and Mark's comfortable shoulder, Brittany didn't even make it to the end of the episode he'd turned on.

After an indeterminate amount of in-and-out dozing, there was a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, only to quickly close them when the dizziness hit. Wincing, she leaned off her brother.

"Britt," Mark whispered.

"Yeah?" she responded groggily.

"Power's out," he said.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I don't get it, either," he said.

She rubbed at her eyes and tried to make the room stop its spinning. "Shouldn't the generator have kicked on?"

"Yeah."

"So what do we do?" she asked.

Mark sighed. "I gotta go out and see what the problem is. If it's just a loose wire or connection, it's an easy fix. If it's something else, it'll be a little tougher."

"But the fire is still going," she said. "We're plenty warm. Why not just wait until it's light out?"

"By then, we'll have an additional few feet of snow out there, and that just complicates everything," he said.

"Okay, but I'm coming with you," Brittany said.

"Not necessary. I've been fixing stuff around here—"

"Don't even think about saying 'by myself,'" she interrupted.

Mark hesitated, but scrunched his face in thought. "—in the dark?" he offered, but didn't seem very confident.

"Terrible recovery. Zero out of ten, would not recommend," she said.

"Well, it's gonna be dark. I'll give you the spotlight flashlight. You just point it to where I say."

Brittany offered a crisp salute in response.

Mark just stared at her.

"I don't know why I saluted," she said, sheepishly.

"How drunk are you?"

Brittany crossed her arms and pouted. "Not very."

"I'll take it," Mark said. "Time to bundle up."

Within minutes, they were dressed head to toe for an Arctic expedition. Mark reached for the door handle, but paused.

"What's up?" Brittany asked.

"When's the last time you were in a blizzard?" Mark asked.

"Couldn't say off the top of my head."

"Do you remember how loud they are?"

"I do now," she said.

"Stay close," Mark said. "Keep the flashlight on. You might lose me, but I'll be able to see you for miles."

The door opened and chaos exploded. Wind howled all around them as pure darkness swallowed them whole. Directionless vertigo seized her, exacerbating her dizziness. Meanwhile, snow and sleet pelted her face.

The flashlight, you idiot, she thought, chastising herself.

Pressing the button, the world exploded into light. The mix of night and snow looked like an old TV channel static. Biting cold pierced Brittany's snow gear, and all of a sudden, her chattering teeth were very real.

"This way!" Mark called to her through the snowstorm.

She lit the way for both of them. Every square inch of the property was muscle memory for her, but when it was her home a decade ago, there hadn't been a generator. So following her brother was a must.

Already, several inches of snow had accumulated, but they trekked through it with little problem. Fortunately, it was still fluffy and hadn't turned to slush or ice yet.

Mark guided her around the side of the house. A large white box, almost the size of an air conditioner, sat there in the darkness and accumulated snow.

Up against the house, was a smaller utility panel. Her brother turned to her. "Make sure there's plenty of light on the panel!"

"Will do!" she shouted her reply. Even as close as they were, their shouts were barely a whisper.

Brittany pointed the flashlight at the panel and her brother got to work. Whatever the issue was, his hands were in constant motion, never slowing. Watching him work now, so confidently, was bizarre.

Even after they'd inherited the house, Mark had known how to fix things, but it was definitely on his own time. But now, if there was a problem, he was on top of it.

I could be a problem.

Oh, goody, those thoughts were back again.

Before she could condemn herself, the generator roared to life, quickly followed by the house lights, which illuminated the siblings in the midst of the falling and fallen snow.

Mark shot her a quick thumbs up and closed the panel.

Turning around, Brittany pointed the spotlight back in the direction of the door. Already, their footprints were already mostly covered back up. What had been large disturbances in the snow were now gentle dips.

They huddled close as they walked, fierce crosswinds and cutting snow battering them the whole way. Thankfully, it wasn't too long until the side door to the house was visible. Once inside again, slamming the door shut, both collapsed onto the floor, neither one caring about their snow-covered clothes.

All Brittany cared about was that it was warm and dry. "Mark? You good?"

His response was a heavy sigh as he flashed a thumbs up.

"Good. I don't know about you, but that killed my buzz. I'm going back for more drinks. Want some?"

Another thumbs up.

"Atta boy," she said, already getting to her feet. The heavy coat, cap, and gloves were the first things off. Then the snow boots. Then the snow pants. Pretty soon, she was down to her orange and purple leisure wear and in the kitchen, refilling their drinks.

With a glass in each hand, she returned to her brother, still on the floor. "Okay, man of the house, you earned the drink, but you gotta get out of those snow clothes before you melt away."

"Just let me melt away," Mark groaned.

"Oh, my God," Brittany laughed, rolling her head back. "Come on, drama queen. Let's go."

Setting the drinks down on an end table by the couch, Brittany leaned down to her brother and grabbed a boot. Giving it a tug, it came free, and she tossed it over her shoulder without a glance.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, still not moving.

"With that fire and these clothes, if we don't get these off you're gonna be the only dumbass in town who dies from heatstroke in the middle of a blizzard," Brittany said, just as she removed the other boot. With similar care as the first, she tossed it aside.

"I can't die yet," Mark said. "A fortune cookie last week said I'd find love in an unexpected place."

"Like a landfill?"

"I don't know," he said, straining as he sat up, "but I think it means I'm basically immortal until then."

"I'm not sure I'd place all my faith into the scientific efficacy of a fortune cookie, man," she said.

"But it was a really good fortune cookie."

"I saw a story on CNN last week that said accurate fortune cookie predictions are down by, like, forty percent over the last five years." She reached over and pulled his cap off.

"Not gonna lie, Britt," he said, "that one hurts. If you can't trust fortune cookies anymore, what can you trust?"

"Older sisters," she said, unzipping his coat.

"The same older sister that said mom and dad adopted me from a wandering troll circus?"

Brittany grabbed at his gloves, yanking them away. "I stand by that story. My only regret is not telling you the truth about your heritage sooner."

By now, Mark was down to just his thermal undershirt and snowpants.

She patted the sides of his ankles twice. "C'mon, let's go. I know you have those sweatpants on under these."

"Okay, yes, thank you, sister. I think I can handle the rest," Mark said, shifting suddenly.

"Nonsense," Brittany said. "If you could've already, you would've already." Standing up, she grabbed the nylon pants from the bottom and pulled.

Realization happened before reaction. Her intentions were to slide the smooth snow pants off over Mark's sweatpants. Instead, she got both of them.

As soon as she didn't see gray pants, Brittany knew she fucked up. But it was too late. She was staring directly at her brother's very erect penis.

Before either of them could do anything, time slowed down for Brittany. Immediately, she wondered if it had been like that for Mark earlier when she accidentally pulled her towel off, revealing her nudity.

It's so big, she couldn't help but think. Seven inches probably, maybe seven and a half. Thick, and so hard.

Her shameful attraction to him flared up immediately, and all she wanted to do was collapse on top of him and get his beautiful cock in her mouth. If none of the local twits knew how to treat him, she'd treat him right.

And then just like that, time caught up.

"Whoa!" Mark yelled out, squirming, and pulled his sweats back up.

Brittany yelped, whirling around to give him his privacy. Her cheeks flushed red hot, adding already to the house's heat and her arousal. "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" she said. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Mark."

"No, no, you're fine, Britt," he said. "One good turn deserves another, I guess."

"I did not mean to do that," she said.

"I know, I know. You can turn around now," he said.

Slowly, she peeked over her shoulder just to verify. Fully covered. Damn. The thought popped into her brain without her even meaning it to.

If she thought her own face must be red, her brother's was damn near burgundy. Sitting up on the floor, he draped his arms over his raised knees, looking to the side.

"I'm sorry, man," Brittany said, raising her hands apologetically.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see me like..." he trailed off.

"Naked?"

"No, Britt. Like..." He waved his hands over his covered nether region. "...that."

"Hard?" The question popped out of her mouth before she even realized she'd said anything.

Mark covered his face in his hands. "Oh, my God," he groaned. "Yes."

"It's fine," she said. "I know you guys don't always have full control over that thing."

"Well, it's just... it's been a while since I had a girl stripping clothes off me, you know?"

"Okay, that's fair, I get it," Brittany said. "No judgment over here."

"I just don't want you to think I'm weird or something," Mark said.

She patted his arm. "Brother, for all the multitude of reasons I think you're weird," she said, and then motioned at herself, "being attracted to this piece of ass isn't one of them."

He laughed, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back. "Oh, my God. I said don't make it weird."

"Huh-uh, no, you didn't," she said, wagging a finger at him. "You said you didn't want me to think you're weird. No limits were placed on me."

"I'll take that drink now," he said.

"I'll grab it for you so you don't have to stand, you weirdo."

Mark scoffed. "No, I'm good now, no worries. Nice to know I don't have a humiliation kink, though."

"That's the spirit," she said. Grabbing the two drinks, she offered one to her brother. "To learning more about ourselves."

Raising his glass, Mark toasted her, and they drank.

All at once, time stopped once more for Brittany and a plan most lascivious laid itself bare before her. "Let me grab my phone," she said.

"Sure thing," her brother said, setting his glass down.

Searching by the couch, she found it and pulled up Spotify. Scrolling through her infinite library, she found her favorite Christmas playlist, turned up the volume, and pressed play.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked.

"Just go with it," Brittany said.

With the wood stove still kicking out an impressive amount of heat, and surrounded by twinkling Christmas lights and decor, she stepped up to her little brother, who towered over her.

"What are you doing, Britt?" he repeated.

She offered him her hand, palm up. "May I have this dance?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

She could see the hesitancy in his eyes, so much so that even when he took her hand (and the goosebumps ran up the length of her arm), his face remained skeptical.

But as Bing Crosby crooned of white Christmas dreams, Brittany brought her brother close. Chest to chest, she may have leaned into him more than was strictly necessary.

Grasping his hand, she laced her fingers through his and raised their arms to the side. With her free arm, she reached around and placed her other hand on the small of his back, bringing them waist to waist.

Mark swallowed hard. "What... what are you doing, Britt?"

"Dancing with my brother before Christmas," she said. "It's just you and me in this world. It's just you and me here. Tonight. In this house."

"Our house," he said.

Brittany stood up on her tiptoes and leaned in to her brother, their faces just inches apart. She felt his breath on her face. "Our house," she whispered.

Right then, she felt movement against her waist. His dick just twitched. She had him.