Forced Ch. 02

Victor looked up. "What? I don't hate you, Jen. Why would I? I love you." He pushed her hair back from her forehead, gently cupped her cheek.

"Because," Jennifer sobbed, "I made you...I made you..."

"Made me what, Jen? Please, talk to me."

She let out a helpless, anguished cry. "I made you have sex with me. You didn't want to and I was so afraid I made you do it anyway. I'm so sorry, Victor," she said, clenching her fists and squeezing her eyes shut.

Victor was taken aback. It took him a moment to process what she was saying. Is that really how she felt? How she looked back at that night? He moved next to her on the couch and put his arm around her. "Jen," he said, "no. That's not what it was. That's not how I felt. I've never thought of...thought of that night that way."

Jennifer looked at him. She was so confused. "But...but I've seen you, you've been so unhappy, drinking so much, avoiding me...I don't understand."

He put his hand on her cheek, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Jen, I was at fault that night. I should've done something to stop them, not let them abuse you like that. I just sat there and went along with what they wanted. If you think I've been unhappy, it's because I..." he swallowed and looked away. He was going to say it, and then she'd know. That would be it. But if it freed her from her guilt, it was worth it. "I raped you, and it's killing me." He dropped his head and looked down.

Jennifer gasped. "No! Victor, oh god, no. Oh, my god," she cried, turning to him, taking his face in her hands. "Don't say that. You didn't. I know you. You would never do that. To anyone. You did what I asked, to keep us safe. It was what we had to do."

He pulled away from her. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Wait, I'm not done. Jen," he paused, taking a deep breath. "Jen, it felt good. I hate myself. I hate that I...became aroused at all, and then again, after you did everything they wanted. I didn't want to do it, but I can't lie and say it didn't feel good. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Jennifer took his hands. "Victor, I don't blame you for that. I don't blame you at all. Sometimes our physical reactions don't coincide with how we feel," she said. She spoke softly. "It was the same for me. I mean...you had to feel it." She paused. "Didn't you?"

Victor looked into her eyes. A buoyant feeling was slowly flooding through him. "Really? You don't hate me?" She shook her head. He took her in his arms, pulling her onto his lap. "Jesus, Jen...this whole time. I've missed you so much. God, I've missed you."

Jennifer put her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his neck. "Me, too," she whispered. The sat together in silence, finally able to be with each other without worrying their relationship was hanging by a thread.

Victor slipped a hand between them, onto her soft stomach. He rubbed it gently. It was such an intimate, loving action. It felt natural to Jennifer. It felt like exactly what he should be doing. "Jen...what do you want to do?" he said softly.

"I don't know," Jennifer said. His hand was so warm. She lifted the bottom of her shirt. She wanted to fill his skin on hers, strong hand spread over her stomach. Victor slid his hand across her abdomen, squeezing gently. She did know, though. She couldn't have his baby. It wasn't safe. The idea was too strange. She wasn't prepared in any way for a child, least of all, her brother's. She was already thinking about an abortion.

"Okay. It's okay. We have time. We'll figure it out," Victor said. He kissed her forehead. "Whatever you want to do, I'll support you."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Victor, I'm so tired. Can you help me to bed?"

"Of course," he said, helping her to her feet. He put an arm around her waist and helped her to her room. She felt like she was underwater, her limbs heavy and slow, as she began to disrobe. All of a sudden she was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. As she started to push her jeans down, her feet caught in the legs and she stumbled a little.

Victor grabbed her and steadied her. "Put your hands on my shoulders. I'll help you."

Jennifer did as he said, and he knelt on one knee and slowly pulled her jeans down her legs, lifting one calf at a time and freeing her feet. On impulse, he wrapped his arms around her hips and pressed his cheek to her stomach. He knew it was a terrifying, uncertain time for her, but his child was inside of her. Their child. Their family. He felt her hand travel from his shoulder, up his neck, running through his hair.

He was holding her so tight, his arms so strong around her. But she was so tired. "Victor, will you lay with me? Until I fall asleep?"

He released her and slowly rose to his feet. "Of course. Sit down, let me take off your socks." As he pulled her socks off, Jennifer pulled the covers down and laid back against her pillow. Victor lifted her legs at the knees and tucked them under the comforter, then crawled over her to join her on the bed. She turned on her side, away from him, and pulled his arm over her waist.

"Thank you, Victor," she whispered, closing her eyes. Victor pressed his lips to the lightly freckled skin between her neck and shoulder, and stayed close as she drifted off.

* * *

Jennifer woke in the late afternoon. Victor was gone from her bed. She still felt exhausted and weakened. And hungry. She forced herself up and went looking for him. He was in the living room, working on his laptop. "Hi," she said groggily.

Victor looked up. Jennifer stood there in her t-shirt and underwear, hair tousled, eyes red and slightly puffy. She looked adorable. "Hey," he said, putting his laptop aside and going to her. "How you feeling?"

She shrugged. "Tired. Exhausted, actually. Starving."

"I made some soup earlier. Let me heat it up, make you a sandwich. That sound good?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It sounds great." She followed him into the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table. "What kind of soup?"

"Chicken and rice. Lots of black pepper. Celery, carrots. Lots of good stuff. It took me forever," he said wryly, pulling the soup and sandwich ingredients out of the refrigerator. He stuck the soup in the microwave and started assembling a roast beef sandwich.

"I bet it did," Jennifer laughed. "You cook the chicken yourself?

He turned to her, alarmed. "You have to cook the chicken first?"

"Victor! Yes! Raw chicken is full of bacteria and germs!"

He grinned. "I'm just fucking with you. I got one of those rotisserie chickens from the store."

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "You're such a douche. Can you hurry it up, peg leg? I haven't eaten in ages."

Victor laughed. "Fuck off! Maybe you should make it yourself." He took the soup from the microwave and set it and the sandwich in front of her. "You want something to drink? Milk? Juice?"

"I'd love some water," Jennifer said, digging into the soup. "This is really good, Victor."

"Thanks. I thought it would be good for when you woke up." He handed her the glass of water and sat down next to her at the table. It felt strange to be sitting here, bantering with him like everything was normal, when his child was growing inside of her. The thought was sobering.

"Victor...over the last few weeks, I've drank. A good amount. I've smoked some, too." Victor had an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. He thought he knew why she was saying this. "That worries me, along with all the other potential...difficulties...this pregnancy could suffer. And, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm afraid. I think," she took a deep breath. "I think I should end the pregnancy."

A hard knot formed in Victor's throat. He knew it was probably the best thing for all of them, but for some reason, it made him sad. "Okay. If that's what you want, okay."

"Are you mad? Are you okay with this?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Jen, I'm not mad. This is your decision. I want you to do what's right for you." He reached across the table and took her hand. "Really."

She smiled, but her eyes looked sad. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, Jen. You have nothing to apologize for." He squeezed her hand. "I need a shower. You need anything?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. Thanks for the food, it's really good."

Victor smiled and stood, kissing her forehead. "Anytime. I'll be back soon."

In the shower, he closed his eyes and lifted his face to the spray. The thought of Jennifer with his child sent a warm feeling through him. Now that it was a reality. In the abstract, before the attack, it would've been too outlandish, too strange, and it would've freaked him out. But he thought of the night they were together, the night he got her pregnant. Imagined what she would look like as her belly grew, along with their child. It was a surprisingly erotic image, and his cock started to grow. He pushed the thoughts away. It was one night, not a looking glass to the future. He hadn't been attracted to Jennifer prior to that night, and he didn't have feelings for her now. She was still his sister. It was just lingering confusion, brought on by the complexity of events and feelings of that night.

Victor's cock didn't care. He was rock hard. He kept replaying in his mind the moment he came in her. The moment he got her pregnant. He forced himself to stop the reel, to concentrate on washing himself and ignoring his dick.

He returned to Jennifer after he had dressed. His erection had subsided, but his thoughts remained. She was in the living room, curled in one corner of the couch, flipping through a photo album. He sat down next to her, pulling the album halfway onto his lap.

"I still miss her so much," Jennifer said. The book was open to a picture of their mom, before she was sick. She was pushing Jennifer on a swing at a playground, brown curls in disarray on a breezy day. Victor remembered that day well. He had taken the picture with his brand new camera. Jennifer was four, he was eleven. Jennifer's head was thrown back in laughter, mouth open wide and eyes squeezed shut as she swung high in the air.

"Me, too," said Victor, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I miss her. I know how much she loved us. But you know what I hate the most? How much it hurt her to know she was leaving us. And how she couldn't do anything."

Jennifer nodded and rested her head on his chest. She turned the page. Here was their mom on her 35th birthday, a big cake in front of her covered in blazing candles. Jennifer remembered carefully counting each one. Victor had tried to get her to just use big number candles of 3 and 5, but she wouldn't. It was more fun that way. Victor had to admit, their mom looked delighted. "It still seems so strange that it's just us. It doesn't feel like seven years has passed. Have we really been alone all that time?" she asked.

"I know what you mean. It's like we were so absorbed in surviving we didn't even notice the time passing." Victor turned the page. The flipped through the album, watching as they grew, and their mom aged, and then got sick. Jennifer closed the album when they got to the pictures of their mom in the hospital. She knew what pictures came next. "You okay?" Victor said, stroking her arm. She was soft and warm against him.

"Yeah. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad we're together," Jennifer said.

Victor kissed her forehead. "Me, too."

She looked up at him. Their faces were inches apart. She felt her pulse quicken and her breath get shallow as she looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and intense. They stared at each other for several long moments.

Victor wanted to kiss her. He didn't know why, but he had the urge. His feelings were confusing and murky, shifting constantly inside of him, and it made him uncomfortable. He reached up and stroked her hair instead. "How you feeling?"

Jennifer broke their eye contact and pulled away from him, sitting up. "Okay. Still tired."

"You want anything? Want to go back to bed?"

"No, I'm okay. I think I'm going to take a bath. Wash the Grad Blast stank off of me," she said, standing.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything." She touched his cheek and then left the room.

* * *

Jennifer woke in the middle of the night. It wasn't in a heart-pounding panic this time, just a mild worry gnawing at her. She was scared about her pregnancy, worried she was making the wrong choice. She went to Victor's room, opened the door quietly and went to his bed. She sat on the edge of it and gently shook his shoulder.

He opened one eye. "What's up? Everything okay?"

"Am I doing the right thing?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"The right thing? What thing?" He sat up, turning on the lamp on his nightstand. "Oh. Jen...this is your decision. Regardless of what I might want, this is about you."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you want? You don't want me to do it?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant. It doesn't matter how I feel, so if I tell you 'yes, you're doing the right thing,' or 'no, you shouldn't do it,' you should ignore me. You have to make this decision for yourself." Victor took her hand, rubbing his thumb across her skin.

She looked away, trying to stop her eyes filling with tears. It didn't work. "I just don't know what to do."

"There's no rush, Jen. You can take some time to think about it. Whatever you decide, I will be on board 100%." He brushed the tears from her cheeks and sat with her for a moment. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?"

She nodded, and he pulled his sheets up so she could slide in. He propped himself up on his elbow and cupped her cheek.

"We're going to be okay, Jen. This is a hard time, I know, but we're going to be fine." She nodded again, squeezing her eyes shut as a few more tears fell. Victor reached past her and turned off the light. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Victor felt Jennifer moving against him, and it roused him from his sleep. He waited to see if she was getting up, or just shifting. Her ass was pushing into his groin, and he had one arm hanging over her side, his hand on her stomach.

He realized her ass was actively pushing into him, subtly grinding against him. He heard her let out a soft noise of contentment, so quiet he could barely hear it. He wasn't sure what she was doing, but feeling her grinding against his cock was making him hard, especially not having masturbated in the shower. If she was awake, she had to feel it; he stayed motionless, afraid he'd be caught out if he moved. His dick lengthened, the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and the silky fabric of her underwear the only thing between them. He could feel the heat of her.

Victor felt her forearm brush his fingertips, and he suddenly realized she must be masturbating. Great. He really wasn't going to be able to control his response to her now. He was thinking about casually rolling onto his back, as if a natural repositioning during sleep. Then he felt her stop moving. But she hadn't come, he was sure of it.

Then her hand was on his dick. He almost jumped out of his skin. She rubbed him through his boxer briefs for a moment, trailed her fingers down over his balls. He felt like he should stop her. It seemed wrong to let her do this. On the other hand, she was doing it to him, of her own accord. And it felt really good. She reached into his underwear and grabbed his shaft, pulling it free of the elastic waistband. She ran her fist over the head a few times, hand caught between her back and his stomach, and then pushed his cock down. Between her thighs, pressed against her pussy.

Victor had to bite his lip to keep from groaning and struggled to control his breathing. Jennifer slid slowly back and forth against his cock, the crotch of her panties moist and hot. Then he felt her hand between her legs, her fingertips lightly stroking the head. She swirled a drop of pre-cum around the tip, over the slit there. She lifted one thigh a couple inches. He could feel her doing something, but couldn't tell what it was.

When she brought her leg back down, he knew. She had pushed the her underwear to one side, exposing her vulva. Her cunt was wet against him, and she moaned. Involuntarily, Victor pulled her closer and she froze. He kept his breathing even, slow and deep. After several moments, she started sliding against him in small movements, her pussy moistening his cock until he moved effortlessly between her thighs.

The head of his cock was hitting her clit, and her thrusts got longer. The lips of her cunt parted around his cock, her lubrication making her inner thighs a sticky mess. He tightened his grip on her stomach as his arousal grew, his cock now steadily leaking precum. Jennifer was picking up speed, her movements growing bolder, less controlled. She was breathing heavy, one hand rubbing her clit in time with her thrusts. The fragrance of her arousal was strong in the bedroom. It made Victor want to stick his between her legs and lick his sister's pussy until she came. But he refrained.

When he thought of her using him to masturbate, it pushed him toward the edge. He was going to come. Jennifer was pushing against him forcefully, almost whimpering, and when he felt her thighs tighten around him and her back arch, he came. Her hips jerked in short, fast movements, her cunt throbbing on him as he began to shoot his cum. Sticky, white ropes sprayed between her thighs, his cock smearing cum against her pussy, over her clit. He spurted again as her hips moved forward, directly onto her slick lips and moist opening.

Jennifer felt Victor's thick cum flooding between her thighs. It was intensely erotic, but she was overwhelmed with guilt at the same time. She stifled a moan as she felt another gush of his cum against her, coating her pussy. Her hips jerked a few more times, then her movements slowed.

Shame rushed in. What would he think of her if he knew what she had just done? She immediately regretted it. She didn't even know what had possessed her to touch him. His cum was cooling, getting stickier by the moment. If he woke up with dried cum on his dick, he'd certainly notice if it wasn't on his underwear. She had to do something, he was shrinking between her legs and the cum was going to get everywhere.

Jennifer pulled some Kleenexes from the box on the nightstand next to her and wiped as much as she could from between her legs, Victor's cock sliding out. Tissue fibers were already starting to stick to her skin. She couldn't use them on him. She did the only thing she could think of. She turned toward Victor and studied his face, listening to his breathing. He seemed to be asleep. She slid beneath the covers, running her hand down his side, over his hip, and taking hold of his sticky shaft.

Victor was surprised when he felt Jennifer's mouth on his cock. She circled it with her tongue, sucking gently. She flattened her tongue against his shaft and licked in long strokes, covering every inch. She dragged her tongue around the head, under the crown, briefly dipping into the slit. She then moved to his balls, holding his cock against his abs as she gave them a thorough tongue bath. He had begun to recover, and he was growing hard again. He wanted to put his hands on her head, or pull her up and fuck her, but he stayed still.

Jennifer, fairly confident Victor's half hard cock was sufficiently free of cum, tucked him back into his boxer briefs and adjusted her own underwear. She turned away from him, feeling queasy at having taken advantage of him while he slept. She may as well have slipped him a roofie. They had agreed; what they had been forced to do, and how it made them feel, was their bodies' reactions to the stress and stimulation. Not how they felt about one another. Not about the degree of attraction between them. So what the fuck had she just done? Why had she liked the taste of him? A sinking feeling in her stomach, she tried to sleep.