by Kendall Duke
I almost made it home. I was so close.
I can still remember what his face looked like. Every color, every tint and shade, every shadow. He was shouting at Benny, over and over, turning around in his seat and climbing back with his hands reaching out, fingers like claws, coming for him: “what did you do? What did you do?” Frozen in time for all eternity, forever in my mind, that moment.
We hit the curb really hard. The car flipped.
It was hard for me to see; I wasn’t breathing right, by then, and darkness was creeping into the edges of my vision, like my brain was filling up with blood. That wasn’t what was happening though; the docs told me I was actually bleeding out. Nothing was staying in. It wasn’t that I was filling up—I was emptying.
And then my brother was gone.
I don’t remember much about getting from the car into the house. I remember standing on the threshold to my room, and grabbing the things I needed most—my paints, the case he bought me for my birthday—our birthday—before it all went black.
I woke up six days later, still alive. But everyone else was dead.
The judge said I was guilty, and he was right, but I don’t think we were coming at it from the same angle. When he sent me to jail, I didn’t really care. I knew everything was gone; the Feds took the house, our cars, my dad’s boat. Whatever might be left was looted by the hangers-on, the vultures lurking on the edges of my father’s underworld circle. And what did it matter?
What did any of it matter?
I was not the world’s most emotional guy before-hand; we were taught to control ourselves and any situation we came into contact with, including the people in it. Marco was the extrovert, always talking, more sound and movement than a hummingbird strapped to a rocket. I’m quick and sarcastic, good with my hands. We made a perfect team.
Twins. Not if you didn’t know; we were as fraternal as fraternal could be. But twins. Best friends, brothers, twins.
I missed having a twin.
I missed caring about what went on inside of someone else’s head. Prison is a good place to learn how to ignore what other people think, even if, like me, you have a hard time not reading the faces of everyone around you. I hadn’t given a shit about another person’s emotional well-being in more than 736 days. That’s a long time.
I missed having a family. I missed knowing there were people that noticed when you weren’t around, the same people you looked for in a crowd.
I missed a lot of things.
I hadn’t, until this moment--I hadn’t allowed myself to think about what happened, what it meant in the larger scheme of things except for the fact that it was just the life I’d led, the life I’d always had. The life I took for granted. I didn’t think about my brother, or my father, or even my uncle. I didn’t think about myself, either. I accepted the loneliness that sank into me so deeply that it stained me, I basked in it, because it was the last and final connection I had to them. Guilt, in the end, is just a way to hang on to something you’re not ready to let go of, for better or worse.
Sometimes both.
For all the good it did us in the end, loyalty mattered to my people. It was part of the code. But I didn’t understand that loyalty to the dead just translates into guilt.
And guilt keeps you apart. That’s the price you pay, what you sign up for. That’s the price I paid, and kept paying, and paid again, every morning when I woke up and they weren’t there; I paid with loneliness.
That’s the shackle I wore around my neck.
Until she touched me back.
I’d touched Trinity a couple times, now—just as surprising to me as it was to her, really, but after I got over the shock I enjoyed it, because comforting her… It made me feel something, something I’d buried in my chest.
And I could endure the pang that echoed through me after I let her go when I thought it was just the old pain, the echo of my guilt. The hospital was the first time I felt it—something moved, deep inside of me. I could put it away afterward though, because it was just her job; I made it clinical, as much as I could. But then she was so sad, and I wanted to help… So I touched her, for the first time. Still healing. But not the same as what she did for me. I felt bad that touching her made me feel good, but I did it anyway. I knew it was just a one time thing. Maybe a three time thing at most. And it made her so happy.
But then… Trinity touched me back. Touched me like I touched her.
Her hands were so soft, just like I remembered from the night before. I could smell her now, so near, all of those exquisite colors flashing in front of me, and those eyes—up close they were unbelievable, now that the full force of her gaze was on me. I was so angry with her I could barely hear anything above the blood pounding in my ears—how dare she? How dare she tell me to get over this, like it was actually fucking possible? How dare she?
Her hands were so soft.
I warned her. I felt the thing that was buried in my chest start to chew its way out—felt all of its teeth, making me raw inside, making me bleed again.
It wasn’t guilt.
It was love.
Her hands were so soft—I didn’t want it to be like this, when she told me she was a virgin I felt something unlock in my gut, a different buried thing, and I knew I wanted to fuck her, fuck her so deep and so rough and so hard that we would be breathing the same breath, feeling the same thing at the same time, that she would feel me inside of her for the rest of her life—I didn’t want to want her like this, on the ground, like an animal.
But I did.
Trinity gasped as I ripped apart her t-shirt. The neckline stuck, but the rest of her was naked beneath me, and I licked her from her belly to her sternum, then bit her neck while my hands slid down and tore her jeans open. I was ravenous—I wanted to taste her, all of her, and I was fucking starving for her skin. Sienna. Mocha. Crimson, cadmium—I felt my cock pushing through my sweatpants, dragging along her bare thigh, and had to breathe through my nose to keep from shoving it inside of her—not yet. Not yet, goddamn it, not yet. I squared my arms on the floor, pulling our chests together, and tasted her kiss again. Perfection. Her mouth made me slow down, reminded me that Trinity was bare and real and here with me. I sucked on her tongue while she panted and skimmed my fingers over her cheek, then let them slide into her hair. Copper, burnt umber, deep navy, violet-blue… How could something this beautiful exist?
“What are you thinking?” I snapped back to reality for a second, her voice bringing me around to the moment. I shook my head in answer, because I didn’t know what to say—I haven’t wanted anything or anyone in years, and I’ve never wanted anyone like this before… I think I might die, I think my heart is either breaking or re-building itself right now, inside of my chest, I honestly can’t tell but I think you did this for me…
Do you think we could be family, Trinity? Do you want to love me like that?
Because I could love her like that. I knew it. I felt the grind in my chest cavity as my heart knitted itself back together--my buried, starving, lonely heart, trying desperately to come back to life. We gazed into each other’s eyes for so long I wondered if she could hear my thoughts, and for the first time, I think she might have.
Trinity ran her fingers through my hair and pulled me into another embrace. Her kisses were like rainwater, like ice for a burning man, like a deep dive in the dark ocean. I felt her body moving under mine, felt her legs wrap around my hips, and I was lost to the world, to anything but her.
I dove in.
~~~
Trinity
I worked what was left of my jeans down further on my thighs, and Eric reared back on his knees to yank them off the rest of the way. I wasn’t wearing underwear, and my immediate reaction was to close my legs, to hide—just like I’d always done in the past… But he didn’t have time for that. He wasn’t in a hurry, but he knew what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to take it. Once my jeans were gone, Eric slid his hands down my calves, teasing the backs of my knees, an
d used my legs to lift my hips into the air. He slid his thighs under my ass as my ankles rested on his shoulders. It felt like his skin was burning—or maybe it was the air. Everything was changing in my life, as if I could see my future, was reaching out and grabbing it with my hands: it looked like Eric, fierce and free and fully in the present, here, gazing down at me with so much desire my skin heated. He licked the arch of my foot as his hands slid lower on my legs, slipping underneath and kneading my ass as I bucked into his touch, and then they found my opening.
Oh my god. So this was it, this was the thing I’d been waiting for--
I heard myself cry out as one finger glided between my slick folds and another found my clit, mercilessly teasing it while I wailed—I was already so gone, so lost in the sensations growing inside of me, that I didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing his own pants any more. The head of his cock, a velvet covered piston, hot as the engine it belonged to, stroked my damp pussy; I felt it and gasped, the realness of it intruding on the heady smoke that filled my mind. He was huge—when he—Oh my god—
It was only an inch. Eric moved his hips just a fraction, and he was inside. His finger picked up speed on my clit, strumming it as I moaned, and I could barely focus on his face as he slipped further in. “Eric—” I was begging him, but I didn’t know what I was asking for; luckily he seemed to understand and sank inside of me, wide and throbbing, the electric charge his touch loosed under my skin erupting through my nerves in time with his attention to my clit. I felt my whole spine arch off of the floor as the orgasm rode me, my mouth open and the sound of his name reverberating off of the ceiling as I begged him again and again, for more, please, don’t stop—
Eric moved his hips again as I started to come down from the high my orgasm gave me, ruthlessly pushing me back over the edge. He jerked me closer, so that my entire ass was off of the ground and resting on his thighs, my weight now on my shoulders and his forearms supporting my back as I floated, suspended in air, filled with him. He moved faster; I rocked into him, unable to escape--he was so thick, his cock as demanding as he was… But also sweetly needy. It felt like… Like... “Eric?” Those amber eyes were locked on me, memorizing me, guiding me as he thrust into me again. I moaned as the momentum slammed our bodies together in mid-air; Eric held on to me tight, my feet leaving the ground as he settled on his knees and began to fuck me, slow and hard. I heard the soft sound of his grunts as he worked his way further in, harder and harder; I keened and wailed, my cheeks wet. He held my hips aloft in an iron grip. I couldn’t handle it; the mixture of pleasure and pain was incredible, but more than that, I felt… I felt helpless. Helpless but safe, with no choice but to surrender to the exquisite suffering of being taken by him, of being savaged. I wanted it, so badly—I wanted the orgasm that was tearing through me again, the fire he gave me burning through my body, finally consuming me, after the warning in his eyes… I felt tears streaming down my cheeks as I cried out for him again, and he picked up speed. His hands were rough, their grip inescapable—not that I wanted to… The jolt of lightning scorched me again, and I was lost in the sensation once more, calling for him, feeling him pound into me, deeper and deeper as I came for him, begged for him, until finally the rod stiffened inside of me and I gasped as he came too, joining me at last.
I think I passed out for a minute. When it was over, sweat covered my skin. I blinked and looked around; the room seemed different from this angle—this very, very strange angle. I was flopped on my shoulders, my ass still on his knees. The very private part of my body he’d just plundered was on full display for him as my legs drifted wanly to the side, too spent to stay upright. There would be bruises on my hips and ass, both handprints and broader, harder to define ones, where his hard thighs battered into me when we came together. It took a long moment for me to focus, and when I did I realized Eric was watching me.
“Can I… Are you alright?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.
“I think so,” I told him, and struggled to find the strength and the will to move. No dice, not yet. “Just… Tired.”
“No,” he said softly, and some of the mischief I was beginning to expect from him sparked in his eyes. “You’re not tired.”
“Um, yes I am,” I said, giving him a huffy look. “I think I would know if—”
“You’re not tired,” he told me, and suddenly those strong arms were under me again, lifting me up. Eric pulled me onto his legs, shifting so I was sitting in his lap, nestled center to center, my breasts pressed to his chest. “You’re resting. You’re recharging, and then you’re going to want to do it all over again.”
“Well, I feel kind of bruised—”
“Sure,” he said, completely unapologetic; Eric’s eyes were moving rapidly, taking in every inch of me as he ran his fingers lightly over my skin, tangled them in my hair, traced my lips. “And swollen, I bet,” he whispered, a finger sliding down my belly and finding my pussy lips as if a magnet drew them there, down to the damp and heat. “Right here.”
“Yes,” I breathed. My body responded instantly as he stroked me; he hadn’t been wrong.
“Does it hurt, baby?” Eric’s lips skimmed my collarbone and he nipped my earlobe, his other hand squeezing my nipple; this time was different from before. He teased me, delighted in me… He was… Happy.
He wasn’t hurt inside, not like before.
“Not really,” I told him, my body yearning to be filled by him again, to be stretched and pleasured; as always, Eric seemed to hear my thoughts, and I felt him growing hard below me, his cock searching for a way in.
“Do you want it?” Now those eyes were locked on mine, performing another kind of search, finding another way in. Eric gazed at me, honey and fire burning bright, sweet smoke and heat in every touch. His fingers lingered on my skin, running over me everywhere, every crease and freckle found and caressed, and then I felt him push—just once—“oh” was all I could get out as he filled me again, my head rocking back on my neck as the heat pulled me under.
We sat still like that, his hands continuing to explore every inch of me, his eyes watching me, his tongue tasting me; I was pinned from below, gravity pulling me down so that I stretched more and more, taking him further in. When he finally moved, just one thrust and I was brimming over, stretched to the limit. I succumbed to the pleasure of it immediately this time, the heat and pain mingling with the orgasm that forced waves of contractions through every muscle in my body, Eric sucking my nipples until they were raw as I rocked on him, full and aching. I lost the time. We could have been like that for a day, a month, maybe more, but then he wrapped his hands in my hair and pumped up—once, twice, three times—grunting as he filled me with his seed once more. I gasped for breath when he slipped out, suddenly bereft, and only recovered when his arms wrapped around me again.
Eric picked me up from the floor and carried me to my bedroom. For a split second—just one—terror seized me, my anxiety roaring to life. I clutched him in the dark, wordlessly begging him to stay.
He laid down next to me and pulled the blankets up, covering us both, then nestled me against his chest, kissing my hair, my cheeks, my shoulder. “Goodnight, Trinity,” he whispered, and I pressed my face against the booming of his heart and slept dreamlessly, as soon as I closed my eyes.
~~~
Eric
So I was in love.
Huh.
I rolled over on my back and stared up at Trinity’s ceiling, wondering if my brother would hear me if I prayed. Would he forgive me? Did the dead care if you finally let go enough to live a life they couldn’t?
Would he hate me, if he knew I was happy without him?
I turned to look at her again, to see if this was real; I had a hard time believing it, but sure enough, there she was. Trinity’s shoulders and breasts were uncovered, the blanket slipping down to reveal perfect slopes of apricot and cadmium yellow with undertones of burnt sienna, royal blue shadows pooling under her curves. Her nipples were red. There w
as crimson, ochre, even a touch of magenta—but I could do this all night, just naming the colors I found on her body, tantalizing myself into a stupor while I drank her in. At least her eyes were closed; I might get some sleep tonight, if I could stop thinking about the rainbow of her iris.
I didn’t want to shower. I’d thought about it; I almost carried her in there and I would, maybe, in the morning. I didn’t want to forget what had happened, for now, though, and the smell of sex with her made me feel a little drunk. I wasn’t ready for it to end, the dream of being with her, the memory of the instant I entered her for the first time still fresh and the scent of it all around me.
I guess I wasn’t ready to think about whether or not she felt the same way.
I wanted to enjoy this.
It was… A lot, as she would say. I rolled towards her and watched her for a while, indulging myself; I counted the colors of her skin, her freckles, her lips and nipples, the rise of her collarbone, the dip of her sternum, I counted each shade, tint and shadow.
I don’t think Marco would mind. I think… I think he would be happy for me.
I fell asleep at some point, my eyes drifting closed as I floated back into the dreamless, deep rest she’d given me before. When I woke this time, though, I knew where I was immediately; the scent of us was imprinted on my brain, and I woke up happy.
And there she was, watching me the same way I’d fallen asleep watching her.
When I saw her face, I felt this rush of joy—this explosion, like fireworks where my heart would be. I felt… Peace.
Damn. I’d completely forgotten what that was like.
“Hey,” I said.
Trinity smiled at me, but there was an edge to it. “Hey.” I reached out and touched her cheek, running my finger along her jaw; I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, for the first time, and just like always when she looked even a little bit upset, I reached for her. “You never… I asked you to stay.”