No Way Home Chapter 7: Collision Course

Of all the places Lemy Loud had ever been in his checkered life - holding cells, homeless shelters, park benches - none were as as uncomfortable as sitting down to dinner with his family. The atmosphere, dark and heavy, crackled with tension, and every time he gathered the witherell to look up from his plate, he caught one of his aunts hurriedly glancing away, as though they'd been watching him.

Like he was a freak.

He stared down at his food with a tight-lipped expression and took reluctant bites of his food; he wasn't hungry, but he had to keep up appearances. Just like he always did around these assholes.

Funny how quickly we slip into old roles, huh? In the span of a few hours, the past couple years melted away, and he was back to what he was before: An agitating and vaguely repellent inconvenience that his aunts simply endured. Like hepatitis.

Before Dad kicked him out of the house, they suffered him the way an impatient and put upon master suffers an annoying dog - they fed him, they watered him, and they occasionally changed the newspaper he made piddle on, but they never spoke to him, never offered affection or encouragement, no head scratches, nothing. After Dad kicked him out, however, he ceased to exist to them. Except for Leni, of course, but she's not a fucking cunt like her sisters, so Lemy barely counted her when he said The Aunts. They weren't individuals in his eyes, but rather a monolith, a single entity with a single mind but many bodies, like fingers to a hand. They were different people, but, if you asked him, they were only as different as shit was from vomit. Not the same substance maybe, but you still don't wanna step in it.

During his time wandering in the wilderness, like Adam cast from the Garden, none of them texted him, none called, none so much as fucking asked about him. He'd see one at the gas station or the grocery store, and he wouldn't even bother approaching; he was a fuck up, but he wasn't stupid - they didn't want anything to do with him. You'd expect them to offer money and help, or to at least say hi when they crossed paths at Meijer or Walmart, but you'd be wrong. They were Dad's little sycophants and if he said you weren't worthy, they clawed at his leg in a writhing mass of incest and turned their backs on you.

In the two years he spent bumming around Royal Woods and Elk Park, Lemy came to hate those bitches just as deeply as he hated Dad. Now, sitting at the dinner table surrounded by them, he was so ill-at-ease his left eyelid twitched like a tweaker outta juice. Dad's harem didn't include all of his sisters, only the ones present - Lemy saw so little of the others that he sometimes forgot that they even existed. Lynn thought Dad was a pervert and punched him in the face once (per Mom); Luan lived in California now, where she wrote jokes for second rate comedians; Lisa worked six months out of the year at the Kennedy Space Center, and Lily didn't speak to Dad or any of the harem, so no one knew what she was up to.

Lori sat directly across him, to the right of Dad, and looked like she had a stick up her ass; Lucy sat on Dad's left, her bottle black hair pulled back into a ponytail and her bangs brushing her eyebrows; Lola sat next to Lana in a posture almost identical to Lori's (stuck up bitch), and Lana glared at her plate like she was trying really hard not to say something.

I'm right here, dyke, Lemy thought, say it.

She kept her mouth closed...for now.

Taking a bite of his food, he darted his eyes surreptitiously from one aunt to the next. You know, he never got the whole harem thing. Sure, he was with Leia, Lizy, and Lupa at one point, but the trifecta didn't last very long - he was either with one, the other, or the third, only briefly all three at once. They also never lived together and tried to play happy family. First, he lived with Lupa in her trailer, then with Leia in hers, then here with Leia, then with Lupa again, here with Lizy, then...was that how it went? He tried to remember but the past was a dense, alcoholic blur, like a pixelated face on Cops. Maybe he had the order mixed up, maybe not, but either way, he was largely one on one with his women.

Not Dad. He lacked the balls to commit to one, so he stayed with them all, which made for a weird family dynamic growing up. Lori was always his best girl and, in a way, she was more of a mother to Lemy and his sisters than anyone else; hell, his own mom was more of an older sister than a parent: They drank, got high, and went places together. Concerts, bars, to jail once when they got picked up on a drunk in public. He called her Mom, but she never felt like a mom, and reflecting on that now, he couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

To be fair, Lori never felt very much like a mother either. She was more like a warden or a stepmother who doesn't outright hate her new charges, but doesn't particularly like them either. Each mother had control of her own child, but only in the way a manager has control of a McDonald's: Someone was higher up and could pull rank on you at any given time. If you didn't like it, well, there's the door.

One of the things that one has to deal with in commission of having a harem, Lemy observed, is jealousy. Each sister spent the night with Dad on a rotating shift: Mom on Monday, Leni on Tuesday, etc. Even so, that wasn't enough, and when Dad was sitting in his chair or doing taxes in his office, they would fight over him in subtle, passive-aggressive ways. Lola would sit next to him and stroke his leg, only for Lori to come over and interrupt; Lana would ask him for help with something, then suddenly Mom needed his opinion on what color jacket she should order from Amazon...then she'd show him a thousand pictures just to cuck Lana from having him. Why not purple? Lana might hiss through her teeth. You always wear purple. Lola was big about intentionally making her sisters jealous, and went out of her way to do it. Shade, snark, phony smiles, and backhanded compliments were official languages in the Loud house, and none of the sisters were particularly close with one another. By virtue of being twins, Lana and Lola were once like that *crosses fingers* but after the harem stuff started, they rarely so much as looked at each other.

Like any rebellious teenage boy, Lemy decided to be as unlike his father as possible, and one of the ways he chose to present his newfound independence was by rejecting the notion of having a harem himself. He never went so far as to rule out incest (as a horny kid, the idea of being with girls was all-consuming, and given his family structure, he accepted incest as normal) - in fact, he didn't think twice about thinking of his sisters...looking at his sisters...then eventually touching his sisters. The only one he hadn't had sex with was Lyra, who now lived in California, but they came really close once, and wound up giving each other head. Her choice. She wasn't ready.

Loan lived close by, but wasn't here either. Lizy was upstairs and awake, but refused to come down, Liena sat at the foot of the table, and Leia sat next to Lori, radiant in a tight pink dress and make-up, her blonde hair curled and pulled back in an elegant, teased ponytail that reminded him of a movie star. She wore silvery earrings with teardrop ends that swayed when she moved and a silver chain around her delicate, sun-kissed throat. The dress's neckline dipped down to reveal a tasteful hint of cleavage, and when she turned her sultry eyes on him, his throat went dry and everything - alcohol, his shame, his discomfort, and even his kids, flanking him on either side and prattling incessantly - fell away, the world reducing entirely to the angel before him.

Presently, she looked up from her plate and caught him staring; the corners of her mouth turned up in a sly, satisfied smirk that made his heart blast so hard you could see its outline against his shirt like in a cartoon. She batted her eyelashes and turned demurely away, a loose strand of hair caressing the gentle line of her jaw. Lemy swallowed thickly and glanced at his food - he was flushed and shaking and couldn't fucking wait to get her alone.

Someone tugged his shirtsleeve and he turned to Meagan, who smiled proudly up at him. "Didn't you, Dad?"

Didn't I? Didn't I what? "Sure," he said as though he knew what she was talking about.

"That's very nice," Lori said curty and carved her steak into tiny, bite sized pieces, her entire focus on the task at hand so, Lemy suspected, it didn't have to be on him. He glanced around the table, and all of his aunts, looked anywhere but at him, as though catching so much as a glimpse of Lemy the Awful would taint their purity or something.

A throbbing ball of anger formed in his chest and he took a deep breath through his nose. They thought they were so much better than him, but you know what? When you got right down to it, they weren't: Lola's beauty salon was failing when he left, and if the place wasn't bankrupt already, it would be soon; Lana's business was doing the same until Dad stepped in; Lucy didn't work, but wrote "poems" that no one bought or gave a shit about; and Lori was a lazy stay-at-home housewife who never worked a day in his life. They were all fucking losers, and if it weren't for Dad holding their hands, they'd trip flat on their stupid ugly faces.

Close to seething now, he stabbed a bit of steak and shoved it into his mouth, grinding the meat between his teeth like a giant chewing the head of a Lilliputian rival. Across the table, Leia crossed her legs at the knee and brought the fork lightly to her mouth. Lemy caressed her face with his gaze, and from the faint pink blush touching her cheeks, she knew and approved.

Dad took a drink of tea and sat the glass back down with a clunk. "Did you email Farris?" he pointedly asked Lana.

Lana shook her head. "Nah, I forgot. Stuff on my mind."

That stuff was probably him, Lemy reflected, but he was too lost in worshipping Leia to care. He crept his eyes slowly up and down her body, relishing the way the thin, cottony fabric of her dress clung to the swell of her pert breasts and feminine curves. Goosebumps raced up and down her slender arms and her nipples pressed against the dress; she wasn't wearing a bra...and she was turned on. Lemy's heart bounced and his dick twitched like a bloodhound picking up the dank scent of bitch.

Dad rolled his neck longsufferingly. Lemy thought he was going to tear into Lana, but instead he uttered a breathy, "Alright."

Lana started Loud Home Improvement on her own, but had to run to Dad for help after a couple years because while she was good at hammering nails, she was shit at running a business. Not as shit as Lola, but still shit nonetheless. She fucked up invoices, forgot to make important phone calls, ignored her phone if she didn't recognize the number (real smart, Miss Businesswoman), and constantly screwed up tax work, which lead to her being audited and almost shut down by the IRS. If it wasn't for Dad, she'd be a jobless loser just like Lucy.

The table lapsed into silence, the only sounds chewing and clinking. Meagan took a drink of milk and looked around in confusion. "Why is everyone so quiet?"

Leia met Lemy's gaze and bit her lower lip. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

"Because we're eating," Dad said, "if we talk with our mouths full, we'll choke." He clamped his hand around his throat and stuck his tongue out, elicitig a giggle from Meagan.

Lori sat her knife down and looked up with a flourish, her eyes going to Leia and her brows lifting disapprovingly. "You look nice tonight," she said, and it was clear from her tone that she knew exactly what Leia was doing...and didn't like it.

"It is a woman's responsibility to always look her best,:" Lola put in, an arrogant infection in her voice. She dipped her fork into her mashed potatoes and took a bite. Lori hummed and went back to her dinner with a dismissive shake of the head. Let her make her mistakes, it seemed to say. She's an adult. Lemy narrowed his eyes and, not for the first time, imagined slapping her across her holier-than-thou face. Lola looked at Meagan and smiled. "Isn't that right, honey?

Looking like a doe in the headlights, Meagan nodded quickly. "Yep. Always has to look her best." She doesn't give two shits about how she looks, Lemy thought defensively. She's not a stuck-up cunt like you.

Lana rolled her eyes at her sister but didn't say anything.

"I don't have to look my best," Lucas piped. "I'm a boy."

Leia looks her best, Lemy thought as he undressed her with his eyes, slipping the straps of her dress down her silken arms, his nose skimming hers and their breaths mingling; staring into her eyes; tasting her lips and fleeting his tongue across hers, her fingers threading through his hair and his hands running over her flexing shoulder blades, down her spine, her skin soft and warm under his touch. He saw himself weave his fingers through her golden tresses and deepen the kiss, her smell steeping his brain and setting his soul on fire.

He realized with a flush that he was hard, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Leia's grin sharpened and her eye twinkled with a knowing glint. She was blushing harder now, and Lemy took a deep, reflexive breath through his nose in the vain hope of catching her scent like a dog sniffing a bitch.

"...right, Dad?" Meagan asked.

Leia slouched down a little, and Lemy could imagine her hips rolling in that hypnotic ways of hers.

"Dad?"

He looked at the little girl like a man coming out of a trance, a rush of annoyance flowing through his chest. "What?" he asked patiently.

"I said girls can have fun and stuff too, they don't have to be prim and proper all the time."

He was aware of Lola watching them with mild distaste, and Lana nodding at her grand-niece. Apparently they were having a heated discussion or something, he didn't know, didn't really care; his mind was on Leia and Leia alone. "Yeah, sure," he said shortly. Realizing how brisk he sounded, he forced a smile and stroked his daughter's hair. "Girls can do anything they want. They can be princesses or they can be construction workers. It's up to them."

Meagan beamed proudly as though his word was law, and Lola hummed haughtily. He laid his hand on his daughter's shoulder and leaned in as if to impart a great secret. "The can even be pirates."

She smiled broadly up at him. "I know," she said. But I needed to hear it from you, he could almost hear her adding. He ran his fingers affectionately through her hair and pecked her on the forehead. When he turned to Leia, he caught her watching them with a hazy smile and shimmery eyes.

"That's right," Lana said, "not every woman wants to be a plastic Barbie doll."

Lola's face darkened, then she smiled coldly. "Some would rather be lesbians."

Lana's eyes flashed like ice and her fingers curled tightly around her fork. "Some don't want to have a facelift every six months or get collagen pumped into their saggy lips."

Dad laid down his fork and sat up straight, his brow lowering sternly. "And some of them would like to finish their dinner in peace," Lori said, cutting him off.

This was exactly the kind of thing he grew up with, someone always mad at someone else, someone always being a fucking nasty bitch. He didn't miss it.

Something brushed against his leg, and he started. Leia favored him with a teasing smirk, one arm resting on the edge of the table and the other in her lap. She slipped her bare toes under the cuff of his pants and ran them up his calf. His heart slammed and his dick strained against the seam of his jeans; the warm kiss of Leia's skin left electric tendrils in its wake and sent sharp volts of desire into his center. She bit the bottom of her lip and nodded slowly. Yes. I want you. Bad.

He lifted his leg against her toes and nodded back. I want you too.

Lola got up from the table, grabbed her plate, and went into the kitchen; when she emerged, she threw a bitter glance at her daughter, and disappeared into the living room. Liena and Lucy were next, then Lana. Dad finished off his drink and looked at Lori. "When you're done, can you get the extra bedding out of the closet?"

"Yes," Lori said and stole a sidelong glance at Leia. "I'll do that now." She got to her feet, picked up her plate, and carried it into the kitchen.

Leia curled her toes against Lemy's leg and slid them down, smiling prettily at the way his breath caught. Neither noticed their father's eyes darting apprehensively between them, or the slight frown playing at the corners of his mouth. Lemy and Leia were on a collision course and nothing could stop it - he expected this, but he wished, deep down, that it wouldn't come to pass. They were no good for each other and never had been, probably never would be. Things could still be different, he cautioned himself, but dark clouds were even now gathering in his chest, obscuring the face of his sun-like hope. "There's not much room," he said now, and Lemy jerked in his direction. "You don't mind sleeping on the couch….do you?"

Something told Lincoln that Lemy would be sleeping elsewhere.

"No, the couch is fine," he said and coughed nervously. "I've slept on worse."

Lincoln looked at Leia. Her eyes said he can sleep in my bed.

He sighed and got up. "Leia, it's your night to do dishes," he said and went into the kitchen, worry beginning to gnaw at his stomach. It wasn't so bad, he figured. They were both older now; maybe they'd take their relationship a little more seriously this time. People mellow with age, like wine; they start to think differently and to see the world differently. When you're twenty, it's a party and pussy is all you can think about. Later, at thirty, sometimes sooner, you begin to think long term. You realize what a cold, scary place life can be, and your priorities shift; you don't want fun and flings anymore, you want a partner, someone you can stand against the tide of time and aging with, someone to be there for you, someone you can have a lasting love and companionship with. He had Lori for that, and he was grateful. Their love was not a roaring inferno as it was when they were young; it was a low, radiant glow, like a flickering flame in a stone hearth on a winter's night. It was dim, comfortable, and warm, providing just enough firelight to see by, so that neither ever lost their way

Suddenly, he wanted that for his son and daughter so bad it was like a dagger in his chest, the blade twisting left and right at the dread and likely prospect of them not having it.

At the trash can, he scraped his plate, then carried it over to the sink, where he sat it on top of the others. He turned when Leia came in carrying an armload of glasses, followed by Lemy, two plates stacked in each hand. He stepped aside so that Leia could set her load in the sink, then watched as she filled it with water. "I wash, you dry?" she asked Lemy.

He nodded. "Sure." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Lincoln knew all too well. The tension between them was palpable, like a cloud of smoke in the air, and Lincoln could only step aside and let whatever may happen happen. He pushed away from the counter and went into the dining room, leaving them to their own devices. Meagan and Lucas stood by the table like a couple of bums on a street corner, and he smiled fondly. "You two wanna watch a movie?"

"Magic Island," Lucas said. That was one of his favorites

We can't right now," Meagan said, "we have to wait for Dad."

In the kitchen, Lemy said something and Leia laughed just a little too loud. Knowing human nature, and his children, he could confidently say that Lemy wouldn't be available to watch Magic Island with the kids. Two years he hadn't seen them...and his first night back he was too busy sniffing around Leia to spend time with them.

Lincoln's mood threatened to sour, and he forced that thought away. "Your dad's busy. How about we watch it instead? You can show it to him tomorrow."

Meagan and Lucas looked at each other, and Lucas shrugged. "I dunno about you, but I'm watching it." He turned around and went into the living room

"I guess I am too," Meagan relented, a note of disappointment in her voice. She really wanted to hang out with her father more; he was fun and nice and made her feel even better and safer than she remembered. She always kind of missed him, but it wasn't until today that she realized just how much she missed having him around.

Grandpa was cool too, though, and there was something like pleading in his eyes - he must really wanna watch Magic Island.

How could she say no to a face like that? It'd be like saying no to a puppy dog. She glanced longingly at the kitchen threshold, then to her grandfather. "Alright," she said, then held up a stern finger. "But no talking."

That was a bad habit of his - you'd be trying to concentrate and he'd start in with that blah blah blah stuff; it was enough to drive you crazy.

He raised his hand, palm out, in a solemn gesture. "I promise I won't talk."

He seemed genuine, but you can never tell. "Alright, mister," she said playfully, "but I'm watching you." She poked her glasses with her fore and middle fingers, then pointed them at him in a V.

"Watch away," he said.

Oh, she would.

And if he some much as breathed wrong, she'd keelhaul him.

Lemy wiped a plate with a dish cloth and sat it in the drying rack between a cooking sheet and a metal pan. Next to him, Leia squeezed her sponge over the water, splattering the sudsy surface with dirty droplets, then picked up a bowl and started to scrub. Lemy watched, his eyes lingering on her shapely arms, her skin like Bahamian sand and the smell of her perfume intoxicating his senses. He moved a little closer, and their hips gently bumped. She looked up at him with those limpid eyes, and the world seemed to stop...then she bumped her hip against his and laughed. "Get out of here," she said, "you're invading my personal space."

"Sorry," he said with a smirk, "I slipped."

She arched her brow, her pink lips curling slightly up in an elfin smile. "Oh, you did?"

"Yeah," he said, "I bought these shoes from a drug dealer. I don't know what he laced them with, but I've been tripping all day."

She laughed musically and looked down at the sink, her head shaking back and forth. "You're a doofus," she said.

Lemy shrugged. She was a sucker for his dumb jokes and always had been. He suspected it was less to do with them and more with him. He remembered a TV show or movie where a teenage girl explained to someone that she laughed around a cute boy not because he was funny but because he was cute. Or something. He didn't fucking know. He was that way with her, though; things that did nothing for him in any other woman turned him on to no end in her. Like the sound of her voice; it alone was enough to fill him with passion. And her feet...feet are gross and he never touched any woman's but hers. In fact he once delighted in sitting on the couch with her feet in his lap, his fingers kneading her heels and ankles, threading between her pink polished toes, brushing along the ridge of her sole.

He didn't know what it was about her, but he was addicted as surely as he was to alcohol. More so, in fact, because while he knew he could quit drinking if he really wanted to, he didn't think he could quit Leia. "What can I say?" he asked. "I spent too much time around Luan growing up."

Leia rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, don't even. I still hear her stupid puns in my sleep." She handed him the bowl and he took it, their pinkies brushing with an electric spark.

"They weren't that bad," he said and sat the bowl carelessly in the drying rack. Leia narrowed her eyes in faux suspicion, and Lemy laughed. She was really hot when she did that. "Okay, they were bad."

She hummed and turned back to the sink, picking up a fork and cleaning it slowly. "How's the city?" she asked.

It sucks, I hate it.

"Not bad," he said, "always something to do."

"Oh? Like what?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Get mugged."

She laughed again. "Yeah? Have you ever been mugged?"

"Me? Nah. The last guy who messed with me wound up in the morgue." For some reason, he thought instantly of Sean.

Leia snickered. "Okay, killer."

"Hey, it's true."

She handed him the fork, and he took it, his fingertips skimming her knuckles. She stared at him, her breathing coming quicker and her face blushing, then turned quickly away. Lemy swallowed thickly. He wanted her so bad it hurt and every passing moment it got harder and harder to stop himself from taking her.

Reaching into the water, she brought out a wooden spoon and wiped it down. For a while, neither spoke, her washing, him drying. When she finally spoke again, her tone was serious. "The kids are really happy you're here."

"I really missed them," he said honestly, "being away from them was hard."

Leia nodded. "Not having you was hard for Meagan."

He thought of how happy and carefree his daughter was, and wondered if she was always like that, or if it she was like that because he was here. "I know," he said heavily. He tried to think of something else to add, but couldn't, so instead he grabbed a stack of plates and took them to the cabinet across the kitchen. He put them away, then looked at Leia; her dress stopped well above her knees, and her back arched slightly as she bent forward to rummage through the water. He couldn't take it anymore. He went over and took her hips in his hands. She stiffened a little, then relaxed, leaning back into him, her butt rubbing against his crotch and her warm, fragrant hair caressing his nose. His dick throbbed and his heart pounded. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and turned so that their eyes met. In them, he saw the same primal need he knew she must have seen in his.

Placing a soft kiss on her cheek, he ran his hands over her stomach. She closed her eyes and undulated her body against his; reaching back, she grazed her fingers across his scalp, and he kissed her again, on the corner of the mouth this time. Their lips met, and her eyelids fluttered open. This time he saw more than need, he saw fire. She grinned, then flicked her tongue out; he met it with his and moved his hands down into the Y-shaped juncture of her thighs; warmth soaked through the fabric of her dress, dank and intense. She licked his tongue and he licked hers back, making her giggle.

"Dad?"

He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her hungrily, the taste of her mouth like sweet wine. She kissed him back, their tongues lapping and lashing as their passions rose.

"Mom?"

Lemy found the outline of her sex and cupped it in his palm, his middle finger stroking her slickening center through her dress. She gasped into his mouth and nipped his bottom lip, her hips beginning to rock. He slipped his hand under the hem and trembled at her wet heat, her bare flesh the softest silk, the juice of her arousal like boiling acid on his skin.

"Mom?"

The kiss broke and both of them whipped their heads toward the threshold, matching glowers on their faces. "Go away!" they cried in unison, and Meagan started, hurt and confusion crossing her face. She scurried off like a scolded dog, and Leia looked at Lemy. "We should go upstairs," she said and flashed a naughty smile. "So I can fuck you."

Before Lemy could reply, she weaved her fingers through his and lead him out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs. Neither one paid any attention to Lucas, Lincoln, or Meagan.

Because right now, none of them mattered.

***

Leia shoved Lemy roughly back onto the bed and jumped on him, her knees caging him and her hands pinning his shoulders. Her eyes blazed with animal lust and her teeth bared in a leering pervert smile. She leaned forward until their noses were mushed together and drew a deep breath through her nose. Lemy stared up into her eyes and stroked his hands up her flanks, his dick bursting against his jeans like a feral dog straining against a leash. She flicked her tongue out and licked his lips.

He kissed her roughly and pulled her body flush with his, his hands crawling across her ass and his nails digging into her soft flesh. She pulled away from his mouth and grinded herself against his bulge, the motion pushing the hem of her dress up until her bare sex scraped denim. Her eyes narrowed and her lips parted. Lemy lifted his hips and grinned evilly at the way she shuddered.

Gliding his hand up her back, he slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled, jerking her head back. She let out a trembling moan that turned into a husky giggle.

Lemy, bare chested and on his knees, fumbled at his belt buckle, his hands shaking and his body smoldering with desire. Leia lay back on the bed, the dress pushed up around her hips and her legs spread for him. Her scent filled his nose, wild and musky, and when he finally got the belt off, he pulled his pants down and mounted her, his hands planting on either side of her head and his head raking across her lips. She purred in the back of her throat and ran her hands over his broad back. He reached down, took his dick in his hand, and guided it to her entrance.

"Am I gonna have to fake it, or did you get better?" she asked, her nails biting into his skin.

He rested his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. She gave him a bratty smirk...then gasped when he thrusted, his dick sinking into her bubbling depths, filling her and slamming against the opening of her cervix. She dragged her nails down his back, breaking skin, and Lemy moaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He buried his face in the side of her neck, took her flesh between his teeth, and bit, making her muscles clamp around him. "Oh, fuck," she cried.

Leia wrapped her legs around Lemy's waist and threw her hips into each one of his frenzied thrusts, a sharp "Oh, fuck," tearing from her lips every time he pounded her cervix. She clawed his back and he tugged at her hair, ripping strands loose from her ponytail and bringing tears to her eyes. He pulled back slowly, then rammed forward, back, then forward, pausing to take in her red, sweaty face. Her chest rose and fell with the hammering tide of her heart and her walls squeezed down on his shaft as it pulsed out, making both of them pant

"You still fuck like a virgin," she teased as she stroked his cheek.

Flashing, Lemy grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the bed, then the other. Even after all these years, pushing his buttons was pathetically easy. "You're all bark," she taunted, "and no bite."

He pulled back, then shot forward; stars burst across her vision and she let out a wavering ahhhhahh.

"What was that?" he asked smugly.

She braced her heels against his butt, lifted her head off the bed, and kissed him. He had the upper hand and he knew it, but there was one thing that always got him really going, and she saved it for when she wanted to be extra sore the next day. Pulling away from his lips, she looked him dead in the eye as she said, "Meagan's not even yours."

Lemy's face darkened.

"And unlike you...her father could get me off."

Lemy twisted Leia's right arm and pressed it into the small of her back, slammed into her, and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling back like a rider on the reigns of a horse. She screamed and clutched the blanket in her hands, her knees shaking. He drew his hips back, her walls moulding to the ridges and contours of his dick, then surged forward again. She hissed and mewled like a cat in heat being rutted by a one-eyed tom, the sound of her moaning pushing Lemy close to the edge of orgasm.

Letting go of her hair, he shoved her face into the mattress, and she lifted her ass like a good bitch. He jerked her arm up between her shoulder blades as he thrusted; she let out a throat ripping howl and pushed back against him. She turned her head to the side and sucked great gulps of air. "I fucked all your friends," she said. "You're raising another man's daughter."

With a sneer, he pushed her arm higher and she moaned. "Your cum doesn't work. None of the kids belong to you."

He slammed forward, his teeth baring. She knew that pissed him off, and even though he was almost 100 percent certain she was full of shit, he couldn't help letting it get to him.

Establishing a steady pace, he rutted deep into her, his balls slapping a rhythmic tempo against her clit. "Oh, God, yes," she said and pushed back against him again. "Don't stop...don't stop...I'm gonna cum."

Lemy bowed his head and went faster, part of him wanting to knock her into bliss and another part wanting to hurt her.

He threw himself forward, she threw herself back, and when he felt his climax beginning to rush up, he balled his fist and smashed it into her side as hard as he could. She let out a breathless umph and tightened; he expanded and filled her, long ribbons of burning lead shooting deep into her thirsty womb. She cursed through her teeth and started to shake, her own end exploding in her like a hydrogen bomb. Lemy let go of her hand, gripped her hips, and thrusted one final time, ramming his seed as far as he could get it. His cum didn't work, pfft, we'll see about that.

When it was over, he rolled over and lay next to her; she remained on her knees, her face buried in the mattress and her arms in an upside down V. Lemy fought to catch his breath, and turned to look at her just as she turned to look at him; messy, tangled blonde hair in her eyes and sweat coated her forehead. Her cheeks were a roaring red, and her body shuddered as aftershocks ripped through her.

"I really fucking missed that," she grinned.

Lemy nodded. "Me too," he said.

She tossed her hair out of her face and Lemy rolled onto his side, his hand caressing her cheek. She was always beautiful, but never more so than after a rough fucking. "You can sleep in here tonight," she said, a suggestive hilt to her voice. "And tomorrow, we can have morning sex." A salacious smile spread across her lips.

"Okay," he said simply, "works for me."