Friday Night:
"You like that, do you?" James whispered down huskily to Bebe below him, whose back arched against him, and her eyes rolled back into her skull.
"You bastard," She gasped. "You complete and utter bastard."
"Swearing at me helps does it?" He smiled slightly maliciously down at her.
With a deep breath, Bebe sat up suddenly, almost violently, and they both grunted as suddenly Bebe's weight was fully upon him, and his nails scraped inside her.
"Damn." She swore, and her world shook, but a moment later she realized it was just her brother laughing beneath her.
"Well you're the one that moved." He retorted, and they both stared at each other.
Bebe grimaced as a drop of blood trickled down her brother's wrist and onto his black t-shirt. He didn't notice it, but they both could nearly just hear what the other was thinking, as it was the same thing.
"We can't keep doing this." They both said at the same time.
"But it keeps happening doesn't it?" Bebe replied, and James turned his head to the side, looking out of the bedroom window through the trees and the stormy sky where rain was now falling heavily, and the reservoir in the distance was dark navy, and it was like liquid metal, the water choppy and rough.
Bebe tried to focus on the view outside, but her gaze kept flickering to the bite on the side of James's neck. Almost involountarily, her hand reached out and her thumb brushed the bite of his neck, and as she did so, James closed his eyes as it stung, or maybe a fleeing recollection of earlier in the night. He didn't look at her.
"Honey, look at me." Bebe pleaded quietly, but James ignored her. She breifly wondered if had gone to sleep, but he hadn't.
"Jamie, come on, look at me." She shook his shoulders, and that was then he looked at her. He took his hand out from inside her, and he sat up, Bebe now stradlling his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her chest.
He could feel her heartbeat, strong, heavy, even thumps, and for the most peculiar reason on earth that was the one thing that never failed to set him at peace. Without needing to look, he pulled the zip of her jeans up, and did up the button up, before wrapping his arms around her waist and just holding her.
Bebe rested her cheek against his head, breathing in the smell of his soap, and one of her hands played with the curls now growing down at the nape of his neck.
"Hello?! Not to worry you but I'm Mrs Smith from the property across the road! We - my daughter and I - hadn't seen your Mama around in the past week and I just came over to check if you were ok, if you had food to eat?!" A French-accented voice shouted loudly, and Bebe and James looked down at the bedroom floor.
"Hang on." She said, falling down onto her bedroom floor and racing downstairs.
"Hello, who was that?" she shouted, running through the ktichen to the front door and opening the letter box shutter in the front door, looking through it, and found herself slightly surprised to find a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her.
"Good evening darling, I don't think we've met - I'm Marta Smith, I live across the road with my daughter Cora. We haven't seen your mama around so I came over to see if you and your brother were ok? Do you have food? Clean clothes?"
Bebe flushed, realizing that they didn't have much food in the house, and a load of washing was due in the next day or so, but she lied.
"Yeah, um, we've got food in the house, and we've got plenty of clothes and that." She fibbed, but the eyes staring back at her seemed to know that the young girl staring back at her was telling tales.
"You sure I cannot give you some fruit, or bread?" The woman pressed, and Bebe looked around guility at the kitchen. This person - though stranger - was offering to give them food, do their washing, and Bebe couldn't turn it down when she and her brother had no money, and living nearly 20 kilometers from town, there was no option to walk, and their mother had taken her car keys with her into hospitable.
"If you could that would be lovely, Mrs Smith." Bebe accepted, and tried to avert her gaze but Marta wasn't going to let her gaze go.
"I go to the shops in morning, I buy bread and fruit and vegetables for you, and you don't need to pay me either. I have a daughter - Cora, and if I had to go to away somewhere I would not want her hungry. If you have any clothes that need washing - put them in a basket and come down to my house - the back door always open." Marta assured her.
"I - thank you. Just thank you very much, Mrs Smith."
"It's good honey. Now you go to sleep. I get shopping, I knock on door, I leave shopping there. Have a nice night - what does you mama call you? No matter if you don't want to tell me." She said, before twiddling her fingers at Bebe, and walking up the drive, across the road, and into the gateway and down the hill to her house, where her equally French daughter - probably a little girl- was probably waiting for her, awake.
Bebe closed her eyes and gave a soft smile to the floor, and let a tear leak out and run down her face.
She wiped it away, and walked back to the house and up the stairs slowly, warmth stealing through her body. It wasn't the type of warmth that James sent through her - all hot, scorching fire and a happiness that could make her burst.
This was different. This warm, soft glow that instead of making her burst with happiness, made her want to burst into tears.
"What do we do now?" She asked him, as she entered her room again, and he looked up at her. He had lit a cigarette, and was now smoking deeply.
"Why do you always ask that?"
"Because I don't know, Jamie, and for some reason I always trust you to know."
"What do we always do?" He gave a short, humorless laugh, and with it a cloud of thick white smoke came from his mouth and nose.
"We fall asleep on top of each other naked, and you usually leave your self inside of me, I don't why you do it, but you do and I don't care, and then you creep out of my room at four 'o' clock in the morning before Mum wakes up." Bebe said slowly, and Jamie gave that short, humorless laugh again. He went over to her bedroom window, hoisted it open, and threw his cigarette out of the window in the soggy, muddy grass, where it was estinguished instantly.
Suddenly, Bebe felt more incredibly tired than she had in an extremely long time.
"Take off all your clothes." She ordered quietly to him.
"What?"
She pushed at his chest roughly, and nearly violently pulled off her long-sleeved top and her bra, climbing off the bed, and yanking down her shorts and her knickers, kicking them off, and furiously throwing herself back onto her bed, spreading her legs in front of him.
"Well, come on," she demanded, but he didn't move, and he didn't look anywhere but her face.
"Bebe -" he began but the look she gave silenced him.
He shut the window, undressed, pulling off his shirt and everything else, and he put on a condom before he went over to his sister, and covered her body with his.
She gripped his hand as he slid inside her as far as he could go, before he collapsed down onto her, and closed his eyes in pure ectasy and pain as her body taughtened around him, trying to get her breathing back to normal again.
"Don't worry, it's me." He said to her, resting his head beside hers in the pillow, his arms tucked under her back, one of his hands cradling her head.
"I know. I know it's always you. You with me, you inside me, you beside me, the other half of my soul."
