Broken Pieces

"I'm sorry, that isn't what I wanted to talk about," I said. I took a deep breath, "I need to talk to you about what happened last night...over there." I said, pointing to the couch bed. Andy looked at where I was pointing then looked back, nodding.

"Okay," he said, his cheeks turning red. He wasn't going to make this easy. But then, why should he?

"Do you hate me for what I did last night?" I asked, my question coming out in a single breath. It was a selfish question to ask, but I needed to know before I went forward. Andy's brow furrowed and he shook his head.

"Hate you? No I...why would I hate you...You've been so weird last night and today...I just...Aren't you mad at..." Andy said, he was clearly confused about what had happened (so was I) and my question had thrown him off. I reached forward and placed my hand on his knee. I wasn't even thinking when I did it, I was just trying to calm him. But Andy jumped slightly.

"I'm sorry!" I said, instantly bringing my hand back, "I was just... I wasn't doing anything."

"No...it is okay," Andy said, "I was just surprised." But his red face told another story. I owed Andy an explanation. I needed to be strong for him now, because I was so weak the night before. I took a deep breath.

"Okay Andy, listen. I need to explain what happened last night, as best I can," I started. I didn't really know what that meant, so I decided to just talk and hope that I could get out what I needed to say, "I have been really terrible since you got here. Since before that..."

"No..." Andy started, shaking his head. I lifted my hand, indicating that I needed him to hear me out.

"I have been annoyed and short tempered. Especially yesterday. And you have been...very sweet. So I was so angry at myself that I decided to go out last night and do something stupid. I wanted to do something stupid make myself hurt. And it was really stupid," I said. Andy was looking at me intently and I found that I couldn't meet his eyes. I suddenly found that I couldn't speak about the actions I had taken. It felt like someone else had acted. Once again, Roxie the Slut seemed to have done something that now, no longer drunk or horny, I couldn't fathom. I tried to explain to Andy what I'd realized instead.

"I am...not a happy person Andy," I said finally. I always knew that was the case, but I rarely said it aloud or admitted it to myself, or anyone else. Andy nodded, and I realized he probably could tell that I was not happy, "I know it sounds dumb and cliché, but...I don't think Mom and Dad ever really cared if I was happy. I think they liked it better when I was not. Like I was supposed to be."

"Mom and Dad were harder on you," Andy said, nodding with understanding. I wondered if he was confused, this didn't really have anything to do with what had happened between us.

"You rescued me last night," I said, trying to burrow down to the cause of the problem here, "And people don't do things like that for me. And people don't try to make me happy. I don't know how...I don't know the way to deal with someone like you."

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, "Like me?" The word I'd said the morning before (stupid) floated in the air. But that wasn't what I meant.

"Someone good to me Andy," I said, the words spilling out of me now. I felt my blood pumping quickly, this was the crux of the matter. "First, I can't trust that you are for real...I don't believe it. I don't deserve it Andy...I am bad and don't deserve someone like you in my life."

"Roxie don't be silly, I am your brother. Of course I will be in your life. And of course I will love you," Andy said. Now it was his turn to reach forward and pat my knee. There it was again though. That affection. Those particular words. I knew now what I wanted to say. What I needed to say. What I needed to be able to express. Even now, sober and facing the consequences of my actions...I couldn't do it. I felt so helpless and stupid and disgusting. And what would it mean if I said something affectionate to him now...We'd had sex. It had changed things. It was dirty now.

"I never learned how to do things like most people do..." I started, "No...it isn't about learning. I only know how to do stupid, dirty things. There are things I wish I could do, but I can't. I am not equipped to do them. They are missing." The more I spoke, the more frustrated I was becoming. This was the same helpless feeling that had led me to do something so reckless and disgusting the night before. I wanted to show affection like a normal person. Hell I wanted to grieve my parents like a normal person. But all I had inside of me was sex. I never trusted any other part of me. I was a stupid loser. And when sex didn't fit the situation, I tried to make it fit. But without alcohol to allow me to do something stupid here, I was just spinning my wheels, "I can't...I lack something other people have...you wouldn't understand..."

"I know..." Andy said. I looked up at him now and saw him looking at me. I realized that if anyone knew what I was talking about, it was Andy. He was different, but he bore the same cross. We both were cursed at birth. It came from our parents. I snorted.

"I used to joke, I guess it was a joke, I don't know, but anyway I would joke that Mom and Dad were so terrible at being parents that they couldn't even make complete children. First they had you and the doctors said you were never going to be good at school. And then they had me and found out I wouldn't be good at anything else," I said, giving the same bitter laugh I always gave when I made that 'joke.' Andy looked at me intently for a minute.

"That is wrong," he said. I could see pain in his eyes and I felt terrible. Why had I said that to him? Again. Christ what was my problem.

"No, I know. I didn't mean to hurt your..."

"I am not less of a person because I am slow," he said and my heart felt like it was breaking. I was making things worse.

"I know, it was terrible. I didn't really mean it, I just...":

"And you are not less of a person because you are sad," Andy said. His words hit me full and hard. I felt so terrible about saying mean things about Andy, but I did not rush now to defend myself. My head dropped.

"You're wrong," I said. I felt tears now. Andy had found my weakest spot. The part inside of me that knew, despite what anyone could ever say or do, that I was less than a person. It wasn't about my actions or what I'd done the night before, or even a lifetime of actions. I was born as less. And I knew it. The rest of the problems in my life just flowed from that.

"Do you ever think I am less of a person?" Andy asked now. I looked up, my vision blurred. Even as I looked up, I was shaking my head.

"No...I," I started.

"Do you think because I am slow that I am like a little kid?" he asked intently. I looked at him now and felt my cheeks get slightly red. I don't know if I thought of Andy in childish terms because he was slow or because I had spent so little time with him as an adult. But I did feel that way. I felt ashamed about it though.

"I know it is dumb..." I said, unable to actually say what I felt. But Andy clearly knew what I meant. I wondered what he was getting at. But I found that I was thinking about him, rather than myself for a change.

"Lots of people think like that," Andy said, "Ever since I moved in you have thought of me like that I think. Like I am not a grown-up. I can't go outside when I want. I can't do the things that I want. I know I am slow. But I am a man..."

"I know..." I started, wanting to reassure him. To apologize. But Andy lifted his hand, silencing me now.

"The thing that is different between you and me is that there are things you can do that you think you can't. But for me...there are things I can do that people think I can't. Last night..." he said very slowly, trying to keep his thoughts in order, and I found myself feeling extremely nervous. We were going to discuss what had happened, "Last night when we I came outside... you said I saved you. And you looked at me like a grown-up. Like I was good and tough and manly. And that guy, your friend, in the hallway. He was afraid of me because he thought I was just like any other man. A big man who could chase him. Then, later, on the bed when you...When it happened...It was like you knew that I was a grown-up. Like no one else ever knew. I knew you were drunk. Mom got drunk enough for me to know what it looks like. I didn't stop it, so I thought you'd be mad today. But last night...I couldn't stop you. I liked that for once you were treating me like a man. That someone was treating me like a man. I am not as stupid as people think. I am smart enough to know what I want. I am smart enough to do the things that men do. My problems don't make me any less of a person; it just makes some things harder. But if there is something I want...I can..." For a moment, I thought that Andy had lost his train of thought. I was trying to understand what he wanted to tell me. My mind was whirring with confusion. I wondered what problems lurked within Andy's mind. What demons he felt. He really was my brother. I had not expected anything like this.

"Andy," I started, trying to apologize for the confusion and to explain that what I did was wrong and that he had not been at fault...

"I will show you," Andy said. In an instant, Andy's hand reached for knot cinched his bath towel shut. He pulled it apart quickly and flipped the towel up off of his waist. Now Andy was sitting on the towel on top of the stool, his body completely exposed! My eyes instantly moved between his legs and I saw his cock (not blurred from alcohol like before) sitting half-mast between his legs. My eyes got wide, but before I had a chance to say anything, Andy reached forward and grabbed my hand. My body was limp from shock and Andy easily moved my hand over between his legs. In a moment, I felt the soft, hot skin of Andy's cock against my palm. Instinctively, my fingers wrapped around Andy's shaft. It all happened so fast. I looked up at Andy.

"Oh Andy," I said, feeling incredibly confused. What had he done? "I can't..." And grabbed my wrist and started to move my hand up and down so that my hand was stroking his cock. I felt his cock stiffening in my hand. Soon he released my wrist, but I kept stroking Andy's cock, too shocked to stop.

"No one ever thinks of me like a man who wants this. I have a hard time saying what I want sometimes," Andy said, "But you are my sister and I love you. So I can tell you. Please do this Roxie." My hand was stilling stroking Andy's cock and I looked down at it. I saw the tip pop up through my fingers and then slip back down. It was a mechanical thing. Something I'd done a thousand times. But I couldn't, could I? I knew it was supposed to be wrong (thought it felt right). Something about what Andy had said made me think...I stopped moving my hand, but let it sit on the base of Andy's cock, afraid to move it away but afraid to stroke any longer. I didn't want to stop, but everything I'd ever known told me I had to.

"Andy, I was wrong to do anything last night. I can't do this," I said. My heart was in my throat at this point. I felt like I was lying, even though I was doing what was supposed to be right. I could feel the heat coming from Andy's body and I could feel my own excitement rising. I was upset that I found my nipples hardening, my pulse rising, and my pussy growing wet. This was the only thing that made me feel good in the world. But I had to stop. It was wrong. How did I end up here again? Andy did not look mad, he stared at me intently.

"I know you love me Roxie," Andy said, "You don't have to feel embarrassed or scared about saying it." I felt like there was no air in my lungs.

"How did you know..." I said. I remained completely frozen, still with my hand wrapped around Andy's cock.

"You always stop talking at the time when other people would say it," Andy explained. Well, I guess it was pretty obvious. I felt my cheeks turn red. I was so disgusting and stupid. Of course, he could figure it out.

"Well..." I said, too upset to say anything else.

"And if you stop now you will still love me and I will still love you," Andy said simply. For a second the words just sort of passed over me. That was the sort of thing people said all the time, one of those meaningless little things.

"What was that?" I asked, though I can't say I understood why.

"I just mean...I told you what I wanted and showed you. That is what I wanted to do. To tell you. I like when you look at me like a man. But you are my sister. I always love you. You don't have to do anything. That is all I meant."

Now, for the first time in reality, I did look at Andy as a man. Not as my brother. Not as someone who was slow. Certainly not as a child. And, unlike the previous night, I wasn't ignoring things about him, pretending to get what I wanted. Here he was, a grown man before me. He was handsome (in fact, he was sexy, my body was reacting to him). He was kind. He was honest. That was the main thing. When Andy told me he would love me no matter what, for the first time in my life, I believed him. We couldn't possibly be more vulnerable. He could have said I needed to do it (and I probably would have) to earn the love I was afraid I'd lost last night. He could have said I had to do it to prove I thought he was a man (and I would do it). But Andy didn't make conditions on his feelings. It was the first time I'd ever believed anyone when they said that I could stop and that they would still love me (and men will often say they will love you forever when their dick is in your mouth, I'd heard it a lot).

Through the depths of my despair from the entire day, up to just a few minutes earlier and after all of the terrible things in my life, Andy still loved me. He didn't need me to hate myself to overcome my failures. Hating myself just made me fail more. And if someone as good as Andy loved me, there had to be something more than the hateful ugliness I usually saw within myself.

I suddenly felt so...light. I know that seems strange. But all I can say is that Andy's easy explanation of our situation clarified something for me in that moment. An epiphany, of sorts. To this day I can't explain what occurred. I guess it was the combination of the various shocks I'd been through the last few days, the situation I was in, and the fact that my brother and I had now been living together for some time, driving the point home. But now the facts were evident. I loved my brother. My brother loved me. Just like he'd always said, it wasn't contingent on anything. I didn't have to sleep with my brother to show him that I loved him. Love wasn't a declaration. It wasn't something you said to someone to give them validation (or yourself). And it certainly wasn't something you earned over time. No matter how many times I fucked Dale, he wasn't going to love me. I'd always known that, but I also hadn't really. I couldn't earn someone's love with sex.

For what it was worth, I'd never earned my parents' love either, because that wasn't ever going to happen. They should have loved me. They didn't. And when I told them that I loved them (or they said they loved me) it was a lie. Because the words didn't matter. It was about what existed between us. And I guess that is what Andy told me: our love existed and we both knew it. I had run away from Andy and the love we shared for so many years. And then when he moved in with me, our love made me frustrated and confused. But nothing we could do would extinguish that real affection. I didn't deserve it. But love wasn't the kind of thing you deserve. It just was.

I felt Andy's hard cock in my hand still. I thought about it, its weight. I thought about Andy's desires, deferred through most of his life. I thought about the way my body was reacting to his touch. And I wanted him. I wanted him badly. But I felt different now. I didn't want him because I was trying to show him I loved him or, more importantly, to earn the love he gave me. Sex wasn't a reward. I wasn't thinking of it in transactional terms. I wanted it because he was a man and I was a woman. I wanted to have sex with Andy because I loved him and because he loved me. Sex would be the real manifestation of that love. It wouldn't fill the gaps in anything else or represent anything more. Sex wouldn't fix our problems or make us more complete people. I just wanted to make the love that I already felt real in the world.

Holding Andy's swelling manhood in my hand and feeling this upsurge of emotions made me think. I realized that I could give Andy something that no one else would give him: validation as the man that he was. And he could give me something that no one else could give me: unconditional love. Together we could have what was impossible when we were apart.

"I love you Andy," I said, and the words flittered off my lips so easily I could hardly believe I said it. It didn't feel profound, because I already knew it to be true. It felt like I'd said it a thousand time.

"I know Roxie. I love you too," Andy said blushing. I kept my hand between Andy's legs. I leaned forward slightly and closed my eyes. My body was just acting. Andy did not move, but kept still. In a moment, I felt my lips press against my brother's. His lips were warm and I pressed deeply into them. I felt his lips kiss back. It was a closed-mouth kiss, but far too passionate for a brother and sister. I didn't care. I leaned into him, feeling his strength and pouring my love into him. Finally it broke, and I leaned back on my stool, keeping my hand on my brother's now-throbbing cock.

"Andy, you are the only man I have ever loved. You are the only man I can ever love. I never understood what it meant to feel good around you. I was afraid of that for a long time," I said, my voice sounding throaty and sensuous. But this was no act. This was not me doing what I knew men liked. This was an honest feeling. I wasn't looking for approval. We knew exactly how we felt. I let my hand start to stroke up once again on Andy's hard cock.

"You don't have to," Andy said, taking in a deep breath and watching my hand.

"For the first time in my life, I really want to," I said. Once again, I leaned in towards my brother. This time, he leaned towards me as well. Our eyes closed and, once again, my lips met my brothers. A burst of excitement shot through my body, a feeling like a first kiss for some reason. Like I was a different person than I had been just a few minutes before. I opened my mouth and licked at Andy's lips. I could feel his body trembling, but he slowly opened his mouth, letting my tongue inside. Andy's kisses were awkward and a little messy (it was likely his first open-mouthed kiss) but he made up for it with his passion. My legs felt weak and my hands felt shaky. I leaned my free hand forward, bracing myself against my brother's knee.

While my tongue explored the inside of Andy's mouth, my other hand continued to stroke up and down on his hard shaft. He was completely erect now, his hard cock throbbing in my hand. I squeezed his cock slightly (making him groan loudly into my mouth) and enjoyed the feeling on hard, knotted muscles just below the thin layer of smooth skin. I could feel Andy's pre-cum near the tip and wanted to taste it, but I was too excited by my kiss to pull away.

Instead, I began to wonder if I would make Andy cum, just by stroking him. I didn't want that to happen yet. I stopped stroking with my hand at the base of Andy's cock. He whimpered slightly and I smiled around my kiss. But I moved my hands down lower, finding my brother's balls. I slipped my hand against the stool between Andy's legs, cupping his testicles gently. I squeezed and played with them as I continued to kiss Andy. His balls felt incredibly hot and very heavy in my hand. It made my mouth water just thinking about them (that thought also made me realize that, for the first time in my life, I was engaged in a sexual act while sober and completely without shame or regret. But I didn't have time to dwell on it). Andy seemed to like the attention I paid to them, I felt his hips moving slightly.