Chapter Text
His sister has always provoked him. Goading him with mean words and ridiculous lies into doing something stupid. Of course, the stupid things he does have very much changed over the years. When they were still mere children, Beth told their parents he stole her toys, or laughed at his face about how he wouldn't ever be capable of riding a horse, let alone managing the estate, or the one time she told his friends he wets his bed at night. Back then, he pulled her hair, shoved her, called her a bitch, and beheaded her favorite doll, but it was never enough, neither for him nor for her. Jamie can't pinpoint the day when it truly escalated, since looking back, it almost feels like what they've become now is the natural conclusion. Action and reaction, the fundamental principles of all life, and because they were raised to never back down, every insult, every act of violence warrants retribution.
They haven't seen each other regularly for the past few years, with Beth living in Salt Lake City and him being home, fulfilling his duty, and it was a blessing, but now she's back, haunting the place with her unpredictable moods, terrorizing mostly Jamie with the constantly drunk and volatile state of hers. This morning unfortunately isn't any different, or actually it is, since Beth apparently decided that parading around almost naked with not one but two bottles of champagne on her is an acceptable way to start the day. It's a recipe for disaster, so he follows her outside, stupidly not realizing he's doing exactly what she wanted him to, when her bathrobe oh so slightly and accidentally slips to reveal one firm ass cheek. It's only when she places herself in the certainly freezing cold trough, naked and spitting venom, that he thinks about turning away. Too late, of course.
The anniversary of their mother's death. He hasn't forgotten, not truly at least. Yesterday he thought about it, he just has more important things on his mind than constantly pondering an accident that happened more than twenty years ago. Of course, he misses her, who wouldn't miss a dead parent, but he doesn't let this define his whole personality, his whole life, and Beth hates him for it. One more reason on her very long list, and that is even more pathetic than sitting naked in a trough in front of all those leering men.
“Get out of there,” Jamie says, and she only laughs. Her breasts, barely covered with water as it is, fulling coming above the surface with the movement of her body. The nipples are hard due to the cold, hard and so small, he wants to bite them, wants to make her ugly laughter stop.
“Why? If I want to take a bath in my own home, I have every right to.”
“They're all watching. You want to be their boss? They now just realized what kind of whore you are.”
“Oh, they knew before,” and with a smirk on her lips she leans just so much towards him, “They all know I'm a whore. Everyone does, Jamie. Does it bother you? That they get to see me? Touch me? When no one wants you.”
The urge to grab her hair and push her under gets almost unbearable, and it'd be so easy, she'd probably even thank him. “You make me sick,” he says instead, and turns around, walking back towards the house. It isn't even a lie; everything about her makes him sick, sick with the need to hurt her, own her, possess her, destroy her, fuck her. The list doesn't end, it never does. He wants everything from his sister, and it makes him hate her even more.
The whole thing doesn't stop there, of course - action and reaction - so when she comes onto the patio where he has sat for the past hour or so, he tells her to follow him into the barn. He doesn't have to turn around, she's only a few feet behind him, never one to step down from a challenge. And a challenge it is, who is hurting whom the most, and when you strip the rest away it has always boiled down to this question. Tonight, he's determined to win. “You're so toxic. I can't barely remember what you've been like before you killed her.”
Beth was almost out of the door, but his words make her predictably stop in her tracks. It was almost too easy. But then she struts towards him and hits him, her fist connecting with his jaw, letting his ears ring. He hasn't quite expected this - insults yes, maybe a slap, but not this sudden violent rage.
Through the ringing in his ears, he barely hears the words she spits in his way, her fists connecting with various parts of his body over and over. It makes his blood boil, not just the pain, but the audacity. Despite her being seemingly blind with anger, this is a calculated move, since he can hardly punch back. Can't beat down this tiny, pathetic, weak woman who's small hands slap his arms and chest and face just like she did when she was a little girl.
“Be a man!” she screams into his face, “Be a man, you pussy!” And he knows what she wants, it's the same thing she wanted from him this morning when she tried to lure him in to with her naked body. In the end, he could never tell her no, just like he can't now.
One more punch to his face that has him seeing starts, combined with her words and the hatred he feels towards her for having the upper hand again, and he snaps. He punches her face, harder than intended, and she falls to the ground. For a few seconds, they both stop in their tracks. He doesn't hurt her, not where anyone can see at least, but her cheek is red and already swelling dangerously.
Now it's him who's about to walk from this, however, Beth seems to realize his intentions since she hisses, “A real man would've walked away.” So he doesn't.
Within a split of a second he's on the ground with her, taking hold of her arm, twisting it onto her back, and with that, her whole body face first onto the floor. She yelps in pain, and it's fucking music to his ears.
“You're such a bitch,” he spits through gritted teeth, one hand still holding her in place while the other pushes her dress up, revealing black stockings and a dark, flimsy excuse for panties. They make her milky skin look even paler. He takes hold of one of her cheeks, pinches it like he wanted to since she swayed her hips this morning, dangling the prize in front of his face without any way for him to claim it right then and there.
“Stop the foreplay,” she says, and her last word turns into a groan when he slaps her ass for it. He wants to continue, spank her ass until it's flaming red and hot, and she'll have trouble sitting down the next day. Winching and reminded of him and what he did to her. He wants her over his knees, wants to take his time, make her suffer through it until he finally gives her what she's begging for. However, he doesn't have the time for that now, his trousers painfully straining over his rock-hard dick. He wasn't aware he had an erection until now that he has his sister helpless and groaning underneath him, but perhaps he has been hard ever since the first punch landed on his face, or maybe since she followed him willingly into the barn like she did many times before. It doesn't really matter.
“You're fucking wet, you slut,” Jamie huffs when he pushes the panties aside and finds her cunt glistening. He wants to taste her, wants to sink his tongue into her folds, bite into her lips and clit, and make her scream. She won't let him, though - never does - but he will, one day, soon.
“Sight must be a miracle for you, since you don't get any pussy.” The blow he strikes on her ass makes her only laugh now. Maybe he shouldn't spank her ass, but her cunt, maybe that'd make her shut up for once.
“What now, Jamie, don't know where to stick it? Is your little dick limp? Don't worry, they got pills for sob-stories like you who aren't even able to fuck their sister.”
He hears the impatience in her voice, sees the way her legs are trembling with the effort to keep herself up in the awkward position, face pressed to the floor, legs in an uncomfortable angle underneath her. He wonders when she got fucked the last time, if it was Rip. Sometimes Jamie wants to kill the guy for laying hands on his sister.
Mine, he thinks, when he lets go of her arm and uses both hands to push her legs apart, and he is almost ashamed for the thought. He unzips his trousers, then frees his cock and hisses when his hand makes contact with the feverish, hot skin. He's already leaking, even the feeling of his own hand makes his toes curl.
Beth uses those few short seconds of him being distracted to try to get up, he pushes her back down with one firm hand between her shoulder blades, though. There's no walking away from this now.
When he sinks into her with one fast thrust, she hisses in pain despite being so wet. She's heavenly hot, her muscles contracting around him like she doesn't want to let him go again now that she has him finally inside of her. He takes a few seconds to breathe, the sight of his sister helpless, and hurt and panting underneath him was almost enough to make him go crazy with lust, but this, the feeling of his dick being where it hasn't been for entirely too long now, has him dizzy, almost ready to spill.
“You fucking asshole,” she spits at the floor like she didn't ask for this, like she didn't try to make him do exactly this since she got up this morning, since they were far too young to fuck at all, for that matter.
“Shut up.” And wondrously, she does when he pulls almost completely out of her cunt, just to hammer right back into her.
It doesn't take long, can't when his face, chest, and arms are still hurting from her punches, when her growls turn into moans after a few seconds, when he finally feels at ease, at home, after the weeks of hell that lie past them.
He fucks into her fast and hard, like he'd fuck a mindless toy if he were the kind of man who engages in such frivolities. Her body is shaking with every thrust, her legs trembling even more, her cunt contracting around his dick like she wants to milk him. “Fucking come already!” And with one last snap of his hips, he does.
For a few seconds he blacks out, consumed by the feeling, his dick spilling hot spurts of cum into his sister's pussy, and the thought alone takes him even higher. When he comes back to himself, Beth's chuckling, ugly and hateful.
“That's a new record even for you. You're not getting any action? That's why you have to rape your sister?”
Such an ugly word. The feeling of bliss is leaving his body as fast as it came. Beth has always had a habit of ruining nice things.
He pulls her upward, and when she tries to get away, he slings one arm around her upper-body, holding her in place. His other hand finds her cunt, soaking wet with her own juices and his cum. His dick's still inside her, stuck in her tight hole, even though it's rapidly getting softer. Sitting down on his feet, he pulls her with him, so that she's trapped against his chest, seated on his dick.
“You fucking whore,” he mumbles, pressing his nose into the soft skin of her throat, smelling cigarette smoke, alcohol and sweat, smelling her.
Then he begins to move his fingers in fast, hard circles over her clit. “Stop,” she protests. She always does, never when he fucks her, but when he makes her come, like she can't bear the proof of how much she gets off on her brother taking her, spilling inside her.
“Stop,” she says again, sobs almost, “Stop, stop, stop.” Those little words turn into moans, her body shaking on top of him, her hands grabbing the arm across her chest, sinking her nails into his skin.
In retribution, he sneaks his hand past her dress and into her bra, getting hold of her tit, and squeezes it as hard as he can. She almost screams at this - almost - instead she moans, so loud that anyone could hear them. Thank God, there's nothing and no one around this fucking barn.
He moves his fingers in even faster circles on her clit, moves his hand on her tit in a painful mockery of a massage, and feels how her nails scratch off the skin on his arms. It's fucking worth it when she comes only a few seconds later, howling and crying for what seems to be an eternity, all the while he leads her through it, his fingers working her slower and slower until they stop completely when her moans die down as well. Then all strength leaves her body, and she sinks against him, boneless.
He looses the grip on her tit, soothes the abused flesh with careful strokes, his other hand comfortably settled on her wet, hot pussy. She feels so amazing like this, at ease finally, calm, satisfied. He's still inside of her, settled comfortably, his nose and mouth above her pulse point, listening to her calming breaths, tasting her heartbeat. This, this right here, might be heaven, he wonders.
It's short-lived, of course. Beth never bore well with nice things, so he feels her getting restless after a few seconds, twitching on his lap, the fight coming back to her.
“Fucking perv.” It lacks any venom, yet she gets up, her legs shaking underneath her. Before her dress sinks down to cover her, he sees the cum leaking out of her cunt, and it makes his dick twitch weakly.
She looks absolutely ruined, her makeup smeared, her cheek puffy and swollen. He wants to apologize for her face, shouldn't have punched her, but she's walking off already, fast despite her shaking legs.
Later, Jamie sits inside the living room, a glass of bourbon in his hand, nursing his throbbing face and burning arms, when his father comes for him. The conversation is more painful than anything that Beth did to him tonight; admitting defeat is hurting is pride worse than her hands could ever hurt his body.
“Hit your sister again,” his father tells Jamie before leaving him on his own once more, ”I'll put your head through the fucking wall.”
Not for the first time, Jamie wonders whether their father knows. They left each other in ruin more often than not, yet no one ever commented on it, least their father, until tonight that is.
He might know, Jamie decides eventually, but it's not like it'd matter to their father as long as they don't leave any proof.