1

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is

sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and

violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial

sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered

offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be

accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the

product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference

may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is

entirely coincidental.

Cover Photo Credit: Itzhak Ben-Arieh

Used under a Creative Commons license.

Cover Design: Varian Krylov

Lost © 2008 Varian Krylov

eXcessica publishing

All rights reserved

2
 Lost

By Varian Krylov

3
 Such brutal destruction.

Everything in splinters. Bamboo and glass. The samples they'd meticulously

collected over the course of the last four months were lost, vials shattered, contents

contaminated or spilled and mingled hopelessly in the sand. Frantic, scrambling, shards

of shattered glass slicing their fingertips, the two men sifted through fragments of roof

and wall, salvaging what they could.

“Derrek, look,” Victor tried to sound hopeful. “The microscope. I think it's alright.”

“And here, Dad. The centrifuge. It doesn't look damaged. Or the generator,

either.”

What difference did it make? Their time was nearly up. In a couple weeks they'd

have to return. Get Cat back to her life. Back to school. Bad enough they'd stolen her

summer. It would be irresponsible, unforgivable to ask her to miss half a school year.

And that's what it would take to recover what had been lost.

Neither of them was ready to accept the truth, though. So they kept at it, carrying

off debris so they wouldn't miss any smaller treasures, like the slides they found intact,

and here and there, a bottle of solution that hadn't shattered.

At least they'd managed to save the notebooks when they'd fled to the shelter of

the cave as the cyclone hit. All the data was there, even if the material evidence was

lost. Maybe the notebooks would be enough to convince UNEP to insist on sending a

proper team out.

They were still rummaging when Cat came running.

4
 “Dammit, Cat!” Derrek growled with uncharacteristic heat. “Where's the case you

were supposed to be bringing? Don't you get it? This isn't the time for you to get

distracted, frolicking around. If we can't restore the samples, we'll lose everything!”

With her usual sang-froid, unsettling in a fifteen-year old, Cat arched an

admonishing eyebrow.

“What is it, Kitten?” Victor asked, going pale as he gazed at his daughter.

Panting, shaking she said, “The boat. It's gone.”

“Gone?” Derrek gasped.

“I thought maybe in the storm it just broke free of its moorings. I climbed the bluff.

Thought I'd see it adrift.”

Her shaking, her silence was weighing them both down, sinking them into the

sand.

“Kitten, what?” Victor finally asked.

“I saw it. Maybe a hundred yards off the bluffs. Daddy, it sank.”

****

THREE YEARS LATER

His thick cock was a meaty handful, even before it was hard. Derrek liked the

warm weight of it in his palm, liked the soft, dusky pink of the head and the smooth

texture and the even tan color of the shaft while it rested, limp and heavy, across his

fingers.

Without even stroking he could make himself hard, rock hard, just thinking things.

Watching his cock swell and stiffen, thicken and rise helped, too. Excited him. Now the

5
helmet flushed a deeper pink, like guava meat, and veins stood out along the length of

his thickening, hardening shaft.

At first he just ran the pads of his fingers along the underside, barely touching the

ridge running the length of his shaft, balls to head. Then his eyes tracked his thumb as it

circled the swollen crown, gently teasing the slit at the tip.

Damn, his balls were aching. Enough with the foreplay. Derrek dipped his fingers

into the palm oil and smeared the slick liquid over his turgid cock. A hot surge throbbed

under his fingers as he gripped himself, squeezed, and pulled his tight fist down, over

the plump bulb, down the rigid shaft, until the side of his hand bumped against his

thatch of pubes.

Slow, then fast, then slow again he worked his hand up and down the length of

his hard cock, images in his head shifting to the urgent rhythm of his fist. Fuck. Yeah.

When he got close, he backed off. Waited. Breathed. Then pumped into the tight

little hole he made with his fist, tugged his balls with his other hand, getting himself so

hot, so hard he was panting for it, needing to let go, holding back, even grunting, turned

on by the familiar scent of the palm oil he always used when he jacked off, the wet

sticky sound of his cock pistoning in his fist, the smell of his body, sex and sweat

mingling.

****

From where she stood at the entrance to the cave, Cat could only see one lean

leg, bent to prop him against the shelf of rock he perched on, his broad back, bare and

sheened with sweat, and one muscular arm flexing rhythmically. But she knew what her

brother was doing. Standing there, still and silent, a hot pulse throbbed in her sex.

6
 She wanted to see.

Quiet as she could she crept forward, her bare feet molding themselves over the

rough, uneven surface of the limestone. As she got closer she breathed in the heavy,

slightly sharp scent of Derrek's body mingled with palm oil, and she could hear his

breath huffing and a sticky chaffing noise and every few seconds a low growl.

The achy throb in her cunt thrummed more insistently. She wanted to touch,

needed to rub it. But she didn't.

She took another step. Her eyes fixed on Derrek's wrist blurring up and down,

she didn't notice the drop in the floor of the cave, misstepped and gasped out loud as

she caught her balance.

“Cat! Fuck!” Her brother hopped off the rock, keeping his back to her as he

adjusted his shorts.

Now that her prey knew she was there, she hurried forward, hoping to catch a

glimpse before it was all tucked away, but Derrek pivoted, keeping his back to her.

“What's wrong with you, Cat? How about a little privacy, huh?” he growled.

She stayed silent. Being called a whiny brat twice as a child had made her

strangely quiet by the time she was seven. And she enjoyed it, how her silence

unsettled her big bro. Still keeping his back to her, he glared over his shoulder.

“Come on, Cat. Get out of here,” he cajoled, now, “I'll be home in ten.”

“But I want to see,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“See? See what?” Exasperation crinkled his brow, beaded with sweat.

“It.”

She stepped a little closer.

7
 “What do you mean, 'it'?”

“You know. Is it still hard?”

Of course it was. Why else would he be hunching away from her, cupping his

hands over his crotch like that?

“Oh my god, Cat, what's wrong with you?”

“Nothing's wrong with me. I just...” She let a pause hang there for a few seconds

before she picked back up. “It's just that I've never seen one before. Not a real one. Not

when it was hard.”

Still keeping his hands over the goods, he finally turned and faced her, surprise

and amusement tugging up the corner of his smile.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she answered. “I'm curious. And...I want to. When else am I gonna

get a chance?”

The mirthful glint faded from his aqua eyes. He pulled in a deep breath and let it

go with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe never. Right?” she said softly, stepping closer. She touched his wrists

with her index fingers. “Please, Derrek? I just want to see.”

With just her fingertips she coaxed his hands apart, baring the crotch of his

shorts, revealing the long, thick bulge underneath, snaking up toward his hip bone,

stretching the faded red fabric tight. A ripple of warm want flooded through her.

“It looks big,” she breathed.

8
 A blush spread over his tanned cheeks. Looking back down, it seemed like her

stare was making it swell, making it reach higher and higher, trying to poke right through

his shorts.

“Please, Derrek. Let me see. Without these.”

****

She brushed a finger against his shorts, just over his hip, but close enough to his

hard dick to make him flinch. What was he doing, blushing and cringing like some

repressed virgin on her wedding night? He was a scientist, not a goddamned

missionary, for fuck's sake. Nothing weird, her being curious. Perfectly natural.

“Fine,” Derrek sighed. “Not like it's a big deal. It's just a body. Right?”

“Right.”

Derrek pulled in a deep breath, let it go, and slid the waistband of his shorts

down. His swollen cock bobbed free, full and heavy. Cat's eyes went wide and she

cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Hey!” Derrek complained. “I'm being nice, here. Chill with the teasing.”

She dropped her hand, but her eyes stayed wide.

“Teasing? God, Derrek, it's huge!”

“It's not that big.”

She shrugged. “Well, compared to what I saw playing show and tell with Mark

and Jason when I was a kid, it is.”

“Uh, yeah, well, let's hope so.”

Even with all the chit chat, under Cat's stare his cock was getting rock hard

again, straining up toward his navel, throbbing for release. As if she were hypnotized

9
her green eyes were locked on the flushed head, following its movements as his cock

flexed and swelled. A nervous twinge rippled through Derrek's gut for how much her

eager stare was turning him on.

“Touch him,” she breathed, turning her gaze up to his. “Do what you were doing,

before.”

The nervous twinge fluttered through his belly again, and the heavy ache in his

balls seemed to swell.

“Cat...”

“Please Derrek,” she whispered. “I want to know what happens. It's not like I can

go watch internet porn.”

“I can't. It's embarrassing. It's a sexual thing, doing that with someone watching.”

“You've done it before? Like, with Julie or Becca?”

“Well, no, but...”

“Come on. Don't be embarrassed. Seriously, I'm totally creaming right now.”

Oh God. That made it even worse. Or better. Fuck, what the hell was going on

here?

“If you want, I'll go at the same time,” she said, running a fingertip over her taut,

tan belly, along the low waist of her skirt, where just an inch of scar peeked over.

“No!” he blurted, blushing again, then reined himself in. “Don't. Just watch.”

Not smiling, now, her big green eyes glazed with arousal, Cat nodded, then

turned her gaze back down to his cock.

His hand was shaking, and when he dipped his fingers into the fragment of shell

with the palm oil he almost knocked it off the rock. When his oil-slick fingertips brushed

10
against the underside of his cock, he ground his teeth over a gasp. Fucking hell he was

turned on.

The sound of their hitched breathing and the slurp of sticky friction as his fist slid

up and down his erection mingled between them, along with the smell of the palm oil

and his musky odor and their warm breath. Every now and then Cat made a little noise,

not really a moan, but a tiny, voiced exhale that gave away her arousal, watching

Derrek fist his stiff cock.

Rapt, she watched everything—her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with

her rapid breathing—how he'd cease the frenzied fisting for a while and lovingly caress

the plump, rosy crown with his thumb, how he'd tease a spot at the top of the thick,

veined shaft, just behind the ridge of the head, how three fingers of his other hand

reached between his thighs to cradle his big, hairy balls, his index finger pressing,

forging a valley between them. How, when his breathing got fast, his thighs started to

twitch and his balls went tight and his fist blurred up and down, then slowed, then

blurred again. Then he stopped.

There was this quiet moment of anticipation. And then he brought his tight fist up

that thick, hard length in one long, slow stroke, and a string of white shot from the slit,

arcing up, splatting onto his chest and neck. Down and up his fist went again, and

another spurt of white launched onto his tan tummy. Squeezing his dick between his

thumb and two fingers he coaxed out three more gobs of thick white goo, dribbling onto

his fingers and cock, slinking down into his black curls.

His thighs still shuddering, his shoulders and hands trembling, Derrek glanced

furtively at Cat, then dodged her gaze, blushing again. She took a small step forward

11
between his quivering thighs, reached out, and with the tip of one finger, scooped up a

dollop of the warm, silky semen from his chest. Derrek flinched, startled at the touch,

then gasped, seeing a thick drop of his spunk on her fingertip. She brought it to her

nose and sniffed. Then her lips parted, the tip of her tongue peeked out, and she lapped

up the white cream.

“Jesus, Cat,” he breathed.

“I was just curious. What it tastes like,” she said quietly.

“Well?”

“Well, I wouldn't add it to the menu at Ginoli's, but it's got a certain...appeal.” She

grinned and raised one eyebrow in a tease. “Want me to lick you clean?”

He laughed and playfully shoved her back, but a hot little jolt surged through him.

Before things got any more out of hand he tugged his shorts up, then smeared his stuff

under his palm and rubbed it into his skin. He'd go for a swim in a few minutes.

“Well, did you find your lesson on the physiology and functionality of the male

sexual reproductive organ edifying, Miss Golding?”

“Terribly, Dr. Golding.”

“Glad to hear it. Next week, we'll be dissecting specimens of the male abalone

and examining gonads evolved to accomplish broadcast spawning.”

“Hey, we didn't dissect you. Let's have a change of curriculum and just watch the

mollusks masturbate.”

“That would be an impressive discovery, even worthy of an honorary title, Dr.

Golding. Tell your colleagues, please, how the mollusks accomplish sexual release

without the aid of limbs?”

12
 “A simple matter of leverage and friction. The muscle merely flexes to achieve

advantageous contact with the shell, and rubs until satisfaction is achieved. Having

used a similar technique myself, I can assure my skeptical colleague, Dr. Golding, that

hands and fingers are not strictly necessary to have a fabulous climax.”

Derrek blushed again at the image of his sister rubbing against—what? the

arching trunk of a slender young palm? Straddling and humping it, letting the rough

trunk drag the loose fabric of her sweats back and forth over her cunt?

“I could give you a demonstration,” she said, sounding oddly shy, vulnerable,

unlike her usual self.

“Cat.” What they'd done already was bad enough. It was bad enough that his dick

was getting full, heavy again, thinking of watching her do that. “We're lonely, here. All of

us are. But it's no excuse to start acting crazy. You're my sister. I love you. It would be

pretty fucked up if I...”

“Yeah. Okay.”

She sounded sad. It made him sad, too. But he didn't know what to say. So he

gave her a hug, then ran for the sea before she could say anything about the erection

swelling under his shorts again.

****

“One live birth in the whole population.” Looking over Cat's notes, Victor's voice

was laced with anger and disappointment. “The steady decline is irrefutable. Year one,

twenty six live births. Year two, seventeen. Year three, five. With a commensurate

increase in juvenile mortality. You sure you've accounted for all the adults?”

“Sorry, Dad.”

13
 She knew that look. He was blaming himself. Carrying the weight of the slow

demise of the whole sifaka population on his own shoulders. His fault they'd stayed an

extra week, risked the monsoons, lost the boat, his fault the scientific community hadn't

seen their data and brought unanimous consensus to bear on the governments of the

world. His fault the world was dying, not slowly, but rapidly. Like the lemurs. In a single

generation.

****

The bundle of damp moss sizzled and popped and a spray of orange sparks

burst over the smoldering signal fire when Cat dropped it on the still-glowing embers

from that morning. She nestled a few fresh-cut branches into each of the three slow-

burning pyres, then re-positioned the rain guards. The green wood snapped and

popped behind her as she stood at the edge of the bluff, gazing down at the wreck of

their boat, that pale sleeping beauty there under the waves two hundred feet below her.

It thrilled her, sent an electric flutter up her body sensing the vast drop just inches past

her toes, feeling the wind play with her balance. If it weren't for her dad and Derrek,

she'd have tried the jump.

Instead she walked the half mile home. Going downhill, without the burden of fuel

for the fires was effortless. She almost preferred the ascent, feeling her calf and thigh

muscles burn as she climbed, feeling her heart race and her lungs gulping air as she

heaved thirty or forty pounds of wood up the slope.

Back at home, Cat slit open the belly of the tilapia and scooped the guts into a

shell to take back to the pool, later. She'd take this stink and gore over the tedium of

harvesting and threshing rice, any day. Derrek and her dad had far more patience for

14
that task than she did. And less of a stomach for killing the things they ate. So she'd

become the hunter, they the gatherers.

Filleting the meat, she added the bones to the pile of guts, then rinsed her hands

and went out to put the fish on the fire. She liked these summer nights, when she could

be outside and still watch her dad and Derrek at work in the evening sunshine, bent

over the big table that served as both work station and site of the family meals. Even

with no other colleagues to whom they could discuss their theories, share their

discoveries, present their findings, their discussions were as intense, as passionate as

they'd been that first summer, when they'd been racing against each fading day to

complete their data set.

At least Derrek didn't work from dawn until dark, anymore. That single-minded

relentlessness was now the preserve of Doctor Frankenstein, as Cat sometimes

impishly referred to her father, though only in her head, and once or twice with her

brother. Victor Frankenstein. Derrek had laughed, too.

It had started to bother her, back in the real world, her dad's monomaniacal

focus. Not that she didn't get enough attention; he'd always doted. But it hurt her, a pain

deep and physical, watching her dad go through each meal, each day, each week

alone. Not one date since her mother had died. All the hours that had been filled with

affection and laughter, he'd filled with work. Here, it didn't seem strange. What else was

there for him to do?

“Nirina's baby's playing jockey, now,” Cat reported on the littlest sifaka's

development over dinner. Just the day before he'd been cradled protectively to his

mother's belly, his little black and white face, his round yellow eyes peeping out from her

15
reddish brown fur when Cat had sought them out in the morning, and again in the late

evening.

“And he's what?” Victor asked.

“Twenty-three days old.”

“Right on target, then. A promising sign.”

“Here,” Cat poured a stream of amber-colored water into their glasses. “I've

concocted something vaguely resembling iced tea.”

Derrek took a tentative sip of the stuff with his usual look of skepticism at

anything untried.

“Heh, not bad, Kit-Cat.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest. He hadn't called her that in weeks. Not since the

cave.

****

A Small Earth in the Sea

In the Indian Ocean, hundreds of miles from the nearest populated land mass,

there is a small island unique in all the world. Though a mere twenty-five square

kilometers in size, the island, which was once part of the supercontinent comprised of

what are now Antarctica, South America, Africa, Madagascar, Australia-New Guinea,

New Zealand, Arabia and the Indian subcontinent, is home to nine percent of the world's

plant species and seven percent of its animal species, representing a broad spectrum of

life indigenous to lands as far-flung as the deserts of Kenya and the jungles of

Columbia. A surprisingly varied topography supports this incredible biological diversity;

the eastern, windward side of the island is comprised of lush tropical rainforests, while

16
the western and southern sides of the island, which lie in the rain shadow of the central

highlands, are home to tropical dry forests, thorn forests, dry deciduous forests, deserts

and xeric shrublands. In these characteristics, this petite landmass is a small sister to

her neighbor Madagascar, often dubbed “The Eighth Continent.” However, the smaller,

more remote island is truly unique by virtue of the fact that it is an untouched realm. The

island has never been inhabited, fished, hunted or mined.

It therefor provides an ideal site for investigation of the consequences of global

climate change. Conflating variables such as deforestation, local pollution, and

disruption of ecosystems by human activity are eliminated, and the impact of global

warming upon the distinct and diverse ecosystems can be directly observed on this

small earth in the sea, which we call Gondwana.

Derrek grinned. “You re-writing my dissertation for me, Kit-Cat?”

“No. I will be editing it, though, before you take it to your committee. But we'll

have to wait until we're back to civilization and a plentiful supply of red pens. Even

scientists shouldn't be allowed to get away with that kind of abuse of language.”

“So what's this?”

“My round-up for the layfolk. Figured I'll send the high-tech version off to

Scientific American, and carpet bomb the online journals like Salon and Wired with

'Small Earth' lite.”

She would, too. All through his MA and the first two years of his PhD, he hadn't

managed to get one article published, until he'd co-authored with his father. It would be

just like Cat to land in London in her castaway rags, and at the age of eighteen have an

article in fucking Scientific American without having even finished high school. He was

17
glad she didn't have any real love of science, and would go back to her writing

whenever they finally managed to get home.

****

“Hey, do you ever think how screwed we'd be if we'd been stuck on an island

with no source of fresh water?” Cat asked, rinsing her bucket clean of sand and dust,

then dipping it into the pool.

“We get enough rain. We'd live. Indigenous peoples have come up with

fabulously intricate systems for collecting rainwater with leaves. We would have had to

do something like that.”

“Yeah, enough to drink and cook with, maybe. But not enough for this!”

Derrek figured she was running to save someone from drowning she'd stop and

stand under the waterfall, first. Never once had he known her to go to the lagoon

without taking the time to feel the cascade wash the sea's salt, the day's accumulation

of grit from her hair and skin and clothes. Sometimes he envied her spontaneity. Her

lust for all things experiential. Her sensuality.

“Come on, stinky! Rinse off before dinner. It's uncivilized to sit down to a meal

smelling like ten hour-old sweat.”

“My apologies, madame, if some of us shower fewer than three times per day!”

he called to her over the roar of the falls.

Hoisting his bucket up onto the ledge of rock, he waded through the waist-deep

pool and joined Cat under the cascade. He'd planned to have a proper bath after dinner,

but a quick rinse now felt good. A few minutes' respite from the day's sticky heat. He

18
bent and let the torrent of water pound his shoulders and back. No shower head, no

amount of water pressure back home had ever felt like this.

Sometimes he felt guilty that the three of them got to enjoy the pleasures of the

island, day after day—even if it wasn't their choice—and no one else did. But then he'd

think that if there were other people there, the island would be ruined. From pristine

paradise to an ugly, cheesy Club Med. And long before the first credit card had been

swiped, checking in the first tourist, half the species of plant, half the birds and insects

and bats would have died off.

The waning sun throwing half her face into shadow, Cat reached up and back,

wringing water from her thick, dark hair. For the first time since the day in the cave, a

hot blush flared up Derrek's throat and cheeks. Her thin tank had gone nearly

transparent, and her nipples showed through with startling clarity, dark and peaked.

He'd gotten used to seeing her nearly naked almost daily. Why not? They'd

bathed together as kids. Skinny dipped in friends' pools and during family vacations at

lakes. And here, it had seemed silly, or, more truthfully, a hassle to change into

swimsuits, to find privacy every time one wanted to change out of a wet shirt or shorts.

A month ago, seeing Cat's high beams through a wet shirt had been no biggie.

“That the sunset? Or are you blushing? Again?” Cat teased, locking her moss-

green eyes on him.

“Come on. Let's get back.”

Cat laughed. He loved her laugh, full and deep, but not loud. Honest, real. Like

her.

“You get them too, you know?”

19
 “Them? What?”

“These.”

She brushed the tip of her finger across his bunched nipple, and the spark shot

from nerve to nerve, down his chest, through his belly, into his already swelling cock. He

heard himself suck his breath through his teeth, and the blush in his cheeks flared

hotter. He resented that. How she'd turned him into the blushing wallflower.

“Yours are sensitive, too,” she said, soft, earnest. With the genuine curiosity,

eagerness she'd always had. “And you're hard again.”

He didn't even argue, this time. When she said, “Take your shorts off,” he just did

it. And when she asked him to, he curved his fingers around the girth of his cock, and

stroked it for her. But when she tried to touch, he pushed her hand away. Watching was

one thing, but he wasn't going to start taking hand jobs from his sister. When she pulled

up her wet tank, though, and bared her breasts, he didn't stop her. The sweetest ache

sank through him, sifting through his gut, and settled in his balls. The urge of need, sex,

mingled with something else. A more tender want.

Her breasts seemed to want him, to seek him, her dark nipples puffed and jutting.

He resisted the urge, the need to touch. To kiss.

She raised her skirt. No panties underneath. Her long, delicate fingers slipped

between her thighs.

“Cat...”

“Hey. It's only fair.”

20
 Over the thunder of the falls he imagined he heard her fingers sliding between

her wet folds. Her green eyes got that drowsy pleasure look, heavy-lidded and

sensuous. Her lips parted. Her brow furrowed, fretful.

She lifted her hand. Two pink fingertips glistened with her wetness. Startled, he

stepped back, away from her, but she stepped forward, closed the gap, put a hand at

the back of his waist to keep him there. Brought her glistening fingertips to him. The

smell of her, her musk drove a spike of need through him. Then she touched those

fingertips, slick with her warm, fragrant juice, to his lips. Held her fingers there where he

could feel her, smell her, almost taste her.

Breathing her in, taking her in, those heavy-lidded, expectant eyes, her soft, just-

parted lips, the little throb in the vein by her throat, how her fig-colored nipples jutted

from the faintly paler, crinkled flesh at the tips of her smooth breasts, the hem of her

skirt still raised, still showing him her sleek thighs, her dark bush, he was losing it. God,

fuck, yes, losing himself in her, pumping his rigid cock into his fist, and he touched the

tip of his tongue to her fingers, tasted her piquant musk, licked her fingertips, drew them

between his lips and sucked.

His mouth watered at the taste of her. His cheeks went hot as she groaned at the

feel of his tongue rubbing between her fingers to lick up every last bit of her musk, but

she just smiled and sank down. Kneeling on a flat stone in the water she coaxed him

closer, closer with her hand at the small of his back.

When he froze she looked up at him from under her lashes and said, “Please.”

It was the kind of thing he'd never done. Only seen in porn flicks. She squeezed

her breast taut and brushed the umber tip against the head of his cock. The sensation

21
was subtle. Soft and light. But the sight of it, fuck. Gripping his shaft in his fist, he

rubbed the tip of her breast with the crown of his cock, watched her nipple stiffen even

more. Felt his body go tight around that fierce pleasure, felt the pleasure explode and

overflow. Watched his cock lace her delicate breasts with his translucent, glistening

icing.

Panting, hectic, she stood and pushed him back, onto the flat stone where she'd

been kneeling. Climbed onto his lap. He held the crown of his cock tight in his fist,

scared she was trying to impale herself on it, but she went up on her knees, presenting

him with her come-laced tits.

“Have you tasted it before? Your semen?”

“Yes.”

“Like this? Off the breasts of a lover?”

“No.”

Her hand ducked under the lifted hem of her wet skirt, and a single finger parted

her lips and slid between. Now her hand was still, but her hips moved, flexing forward

and back, humping that lone finger.

“I liked how it looked, that day in the cave, your stuff on your chest in these

delicate patterns. I wanted you to see it on mine.”

Holding his gaze, she kept fucking her finger, the motion of her hips sliding her

cunt back and forth along its length. Her other hand came up, and with a fingertip she

smeared a pearl of his ejaculate over her stiff nipple, glazing it, glazing the dark,

puckered flesh at its base.

22
 “Please,” she sighed, her hand curving at the back of his neck, now, pulling him

to her. “Please.”

He touched his tongue to the swollen peak of her breast, and licked. Tasting his

own peppery musk, he licked again, rubbing the flat of his tongue across her firm,

crinkled flesh and the jutting nub of nipple, then sucked it between his lips. Cat

whimpered and pulled him harder against her. Looking down the length of her torso he

saw her still flexing, writhing against her hand. Still nursing at her nipple, he cupped her

other breast in his hand, aroused, moved to feel her silken skin, the eager response of

her nipple under his thumb. Again she whimpered, clutching him to her breast,

frantically humping her hand, then finally cried out, once, again, and again, each groan

escalating with the abandon of someone who'd never muffled her ecstasy for fear the

neighbors would hear.

She collapsed into his arms then, her heart pattering hard and fast against his

chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck, her arms wrapped tight around him.

When she let go he felt his stickiness between them like glue that hadn't had time to set.

Her face just an inch or two from his she smiled. Her green eyes looked misty.

Vulnerable.

“That was...” She laughed her soft, rich laugh. “Thanks.”

They rinsed off a second time under the falls, then hoisted the water pails and

headed for home.

****

Cat loved the buoy and roll of the sea, the caress of the tide tugging and lapping

at her as she floated on the surface, the undulating embrace of the depths when she

23
dove. Sometimes she imagined herself an eel, slither-winding below the ceiling of swells

and waves, or a porpoise arcing, breaking the surface, gasping a lungful of air and

plunging under again, her feet two flippers propelling her. The big fish, even the small

sharks she saw sometimes didn't scare her. The rip tides did, but only enough to

quicken her adrenaline, make her heart pound. Excite her.

After, she liked to lie naked in the sand, liked the way it shifted under her and

formed a perfect mold of her body, liked feeling the sun warm her skin, making it tight

and a little itchy while the salt crystals formed. The only thing she didn't like was how

crunchy and sticky the sea water made her hair. But it was a short walk to the lagoon.

****

Walking up the beach, Derrek spotted his sister, languorous and golden under

the low sun. Naked. The realization almost made him turn back. He could lie to his

father, pretend he hadn't been able to find her.

The soles of her feet were still pale, pink heels and balls, her insteps nearly

white, her high arches making an oval to frame the dark sands, the bottoms of her toes

like ten little pink clam shells. Her ass, though, had almost the same tawny luster as the

rest of her body. Round, firm cheeks and that deep cleft. And below.

Derrek stopped.

Below, between her parted thighs, not even hidden under a modest veil of

shadow, the glistening pink of her cunt taunting him from between the dark hair. His

cock swelled and started to rise, fighting the constraint of his shorts, wanting inside that

soft wet pink. But even before that, a pang, a twinge shot through his gut, through his

chest. A deeper, more poignant longing.

24
 Fuck it. She'd get home when she got home. She wouldn't care if her food was

cold. Them all eating together was just Dad's way of clinging to normal.

Derrek turned up the beach, delved into the dappled light and shade of the

jungle, wending through the dense growth of ferns catching at his feet, the tangle of

vines and grasping branches, his mind got tangled up in thoughts of her. Cat. That

relaxed parting of her warm thighs, that soft warm parting of her cunt's full lips, the wet

pink folds between glistening her body's want.

Birds screamed and lemurs sang. Animal sounds of danger and hunger. Grunts

and cries and howls caught and blurred into his panting, hunger and danger.

Naked. He pictured her, and couldn't conjure the image of her with clothes on.

She'd always worn them. She'd gone to museums and symponies and knew which

artists had started Die Brücke and could name all of Stravinsky's ballets. But now in his

mind she was naked, always naked and sheened and open.

He stopped. He had to. Had to crouch and get his cock in his hand, had to fall to

his knees and stroke, thinking of her. Always her, now. Her small smooth breasts with

their dark tips. Her white teeth, her pink tongue and full lips, wet and parted. Parted to

kiss. Parted to lick him, suck him. And her cunt. Her slick pink cunt. His fingers in there,

his cock in there. His cock in her cunt, fucking, thrusting, her panting, howling, crying.

Panting, trembling, he watched his semen drool down the pale bark of the young

palm. Guilt filled everything left empty by that spilled ejaculate, filled all the veins not

surging anymore with hot want and blood, filled his gut with something cold and heavy.

Every time, now. Always her he thought of when he jerked off, her face, her

body, her voice. Her, whole, and the others, bits and pieces of women he'd known,

25
bodies he'd seen in pictures on monitors, in magazines, on billboards, nipples and

asses and glossed lips and waxed cunts, his whole repertoire of masturbatory fodder,

gone. Now when he closed his eyes and gripped his hard dick, Cat always came and he

couldn't chase her off.

As he emerged from the jungle and caught sight of the work table at the center of

the clearing, a vague unease, a regret mingled with his guilt. On his way back he'd

meant to collect samples at the base of the bluffs. He'd completely forgotten.

****

The afternoon sun fought to get inside, rays cutting through the gaps between

the shafts of bamboo, slashing across the floor and over Derrek's prone body on his

sleeping mat. Cat grinned. Derrek had always slept like a corpse, not stirring for

explosions of thunder, for giggling girls at slumber parties when they were kids, even

when the monsoon winds tried to pull the house apart, he'd snore through it all. And at

this moment he looked like a corpse, as well. Flat on his back, limbs akimbo in a futile

effort to defy the heat, his sheet scrunched down to a thin band draped across his pelvis

adding to the effect of a modest cadaver.

Still, he looked lovely. Cat sat down on the floor beside him. Bands of sunlight

striping his face, his naked chest and abdomen, his muscular arms, his hairy

thighs. With his breath his belly rose and fell, dipping to accentuate the curve of his ribs,

making a little shadow appear in the gap between his body and the sheet.

She wanted to look at it again. The part of him under the sheet. She wanted to

touch. To smell.

26
 Sitting perfectly still, she listened. Silence promised her their dad was still off

collecting samples. Gingerly she plucked up the edge of the sheet and folded it back.

Everything was so, so lovely. The thin line of dark hair that ran from his belly button and

merged with the thick thatch of black curls below. His pelvic bones, rising to pale, gentle

peaks with the grace of the slope of a desert dune. His cock.

Science had an answer for it. Human beings, like all animals, are programmed to

reproduce. Glands pour chemicals into the blood so when you smell that potent musk,

when you see that delicate sculpture of warm flesh, you want to touch, to kiss, to take it

into you. People are flesh-and-chemical magnets, powerless to resist coming together.

His cock made her happy and broke her heart, at once. So soft, so delicate, all

pink, full and heavy, lying against his pelvis. As if it were asleep, like him, and even in

the stultifying afternoon heat, was clinging to him for warmth. For safety. Could you love

a part of another person?

When she crouched down on her hands and knees and breathed him in, his

scent, his heat flooded her body with want, with need, an ache as cruel as desperate

hunger. Fuck, she wanted to mount him, to spread her thighs and rub the sensitive nub

of flesh against his cock, feel it harden, nestled between her slick lips, then take him

inside. Feel that hardness open her, rise up, up inside her, fill her. But all that had to

wait.

Scared he'd wake before she could discover everything, she forgot to touch, to

trace the ridge of the crown with her fingertip, to lift the soft warm penis and feel its

weight in her hand. She just bent her elbows, dipped down, inhaled his scent, then

27
tasted. Licked his salt musk, drawing her tongue up the length of him, just half what it

was when she'd seen him hard.

Derrek whimpered and her spine and gut contracted. He hadn't woken, though.

His lips had parted, but his eyes were still closed.

Rushing to the feast before she was chased off, she put her lips to him, and drew

him into her mouth. Sucked at the plump crown, like a bulb of tender fruit against her

tongue. Already the warm soft flesh in her mouth was swelling, firmer and firmer each

second. Driven, needful, she drew him deeper into her mouth as he hardened, wanting

all of him, greedy, not wanting to leave anything to the indifferent air.

Twitching, flailing he woke, but she didn't release him. More hungrily, urgently

she sucked, explored his length, the veined texture of him, the ridges and contours with

the tip and the flat of her tongue, lapping and swallowing to savor his taste.

Her name never came. No reprimand. Just a broken, needful groan. Little

whimpers. His fingers raked into her hair, clenched and pulled, demanding more. More,

she wanted it too. Loved how hard, not like any flesh she'd ever felt. How it flexed and

twitched in the tight grip of her lips, against the firm press of her tongue.

He grunted, flexed his hips, fought to get deeper inside her mouth. Gasped and

groaned and thrust between her lips, pumping his hard length back and forth over her

seeking tongue. His whimpering sounded like crying and his need made her tender and

fierce, both, moved by his want, driven to sate her own.

A rustle. A scuff. Father approaching. But Derrek hadn't heard.

Like an animal with its jaws locked on its prey, she wouldn't let go. Nursing the

succulent head, licking along his rigid shaft, she drew her lips over the length of him,

28
forced another whimpering groan from him, and a warm, zesty spurt of his fluid. Burst

after burst, the thick stuff filled her mouth and she started swallowing, forcing her throat

to accept its unusual consistency. Greedy, she lapped up the coating of spit and semen

slicking his quivering cock, wiped her mouth with her arm, and threw the sheet back

over him, covering his stubborn erection.

The crunch of steps in the sand was just outside, now. Derrek's face went red,

his aqua eyes flared in anger and panic. But by the time their dad had kneed the door

open and come in with his tray of samples, Cat was in the adjacent room rubbing the

fuzz from a naranjilla fruit.

“Your siesta over already?” he teased Derrek as he passed by on his way to the

lab. From the doorway Cat laughed silently, watching Derrek rush and struggle to get

his shorts on while keeping the sheet over his reluctantly waning half-erection.

“Tomorrow, Derrek, there's something I'd like you to see at the pool at the north end.”

“Sure.”

Could her dad see that Derrek's cock was still swollen and sticking out from his

groin under those shorts? All he'd think was that Derrek had had a nice dream. Cat had

noticed he had those himself, now and then.

What did the little hut smell like to him? To her the air was thick with their scents.

All of them. The two men, their hot, sticky bodies giving off their distinct masculine

odors, and that musk of sex, the scent she'd just discovered when she'd gotten close

enough to Derrek's cock and balls to touch and taste. And her own scent, that was in

the air, too. Her body. Her sex.

She finished her piece of fruit and joined the men.

29
 “What do you think, sleeping beauty?” she teased Derrek, “Want to hike up the

bluff and tend the signal fires with me?”

She slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

Derrek shrugged off the familiar gesture and flinched away, then stood there, shaking,

his arms crossed defensively. Good thing he'd decided to be a marine biologist and not

a spy or a card sharp.

Giving her dad a casual 'what's up with him?' smile she said, “Fine. I'll go on my

own. And I'll check on Nirina and the baby on my way back.”

****

“You two have a fight?” Victor asked when Cat had gone.

Derrek's cheeks flushed. “No. She's just getting on my nerves today.”

“She do something to upset you?”

“She's just... She needs to be more careful. She's so goddamned reckless. Goes

off swimming by herself. She knows damn well there are sharks in these waters.”

“You swim, too. We all do.”

“It's just, I'm her big brother, right? I'm supposed to protect her. And she acts like

nothing's dangerous. She thinks she can cliff dive and swim with sharks, and nothing's

going to hurt her. And I can't look after her if she's going to be so fucking stupid.”

“Look, Derrek. Cat's not like us. She doesn't spend a week analyzing every move

before she makes it. And I don't think that's a bad thing. There are no guarantees, even

if you're careful. I was careful, planning our expedition here. And look.”

Victor drew a deep breath and let it go silently. “Cat lost a lot, coming here. More

than we did, in some ways. Apart from you and me, everything she's always loved sank,

30
for her, when the boat capsized. Her books. Her laptop and all her writing. Her violin.

Even her notebooks, she gave them to us. Gave up writing so we could record our

findings.

“We still have our work. But no matter how much she's learned, how much she

helps, it's not her work. Her life. What is there for her to do here but enjoy her youth, her

strength, and enjoy the pleasures of nature?”

Without answering, Derrek put on his shoes and left. He caught up with Cat and

they made their way toward the signal fire. Before they'd gone a third of the way, in the

dense, darkening jungle Derrek stopped.

“Cat.” She stopped and turned. “No more of that. Alright?”

“Why?”

“Come on, Cat. You know why.”

“No. I don't.”

“Fuck, Cat. You're my sister. What we're doing...”

“What? Scared of the word? Incest.”

“Yes. Incest. We haven't really... I won't. I won't even flirt with it. Not after today.”

“Why won't you?” she asked in her quiet, vulnerable way.

“Because, Cat. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Derrek. You're not hurting me. You won't hurt me. We're not hurting anyone.”

“Well, it hurts me. I feel like an asshole. Molesting my kid sister.”

“Please. Who's molesting who, here?”

“It doesn't matter, Cat. You're ten years younger than I am.”

“I'm not a child, Derrek. I'm old enough to decide this for myself.”

31
 “Yeah, well, so am I. And I say 'no'.”

Cat smiled. “Next time, try saying 'no' before you come all over my tits. Before

you fill my mouth with your—”

“Damn it, Cat!” Derrek cut her off. “I don't want to hurt Dad. And when we get off

this goddamned island, and we go back to our normal lives, I don't want to have to

stand before my colleagues, presenting the data we gathered here, our findings, with

the fear in the back of my mind that all the work we've done here would be discredited in

a second if proof, fuck, even a rumor leaked that something like this had happened

while we were stuck here. I don't want to have to explain to the women I date that I

fucked my sister while I was stranded on our tropical paradise. Alright?”

Cat stood there in the waning light, pale, shaking, tears pooling along her bottom

lids, spilling through her lashes, streaming down her cheeks.

“Aw, god, Cat.” Derrek stepped close and reached to put his arms around her,

but she backed out of his embrace. “Cat. Come on,” he pleaded.

“Look, Derrek. I've adjusted to a lot of disappointments in my life. Car wreck at

twelve, can't have kids. Fine. I'll adopt if I decide I want a family. Chance to go to Paris

for the summer my junior year with the writer's program, but get dragged off to some no-

man's land in the middle of the Pacific instead to watch you and Dad collect vials of

sediment and scrape fungus off of plants? Fine. Get stranded here. Miss prom and

probably being valedictorian of my high school. Miss finishing high school altogether.

Fine. Miss dating and starting college and doing all the things normal people with

normal families do, fine.

32
 “But I swear, Derrek. I am not going to rot away on this fucking island, and die a

virgin like some dried up old nun. We've been here for almost three fucking years,

Derrek. Do you get it? We may never get off this shitty island. For all we know, we are

all going to get old and fucking die here.”

The tears streaming down her face were dripping from her chin, spattering down

on her white tank top.

“Alright,” Derrek cooed, trying to soothe her. “Alright.”

This time she let him put his arms around her, let him pull her to him.

Shuddering in his arms, her voice hiccuping over her sobs she said, “I deserve a

full life. To experience everything. And so do you. You don't have to sneak off to your

cave and jack off every time you want to feel pleasure. You deserve to be touched.

Kissed and held. You deserve to be loved.”

****

Strange, seeing her so still, sitting in one place, just watching. Because Cat was

always, always moving. He stayed still, too, so the lemur wouldn't startle. So Cat

wouldn't know he was there. Watching.

Her gaze fixed on those queer little wide-eyed creatures, their bodies like tiny,

hairy people, Cat looked happier than Derrek remembered ever seeing her. At least

since the accident. Definitely since the boat had sunk. Rapturous. That was the word for

that kind of look.

It shamed him a little, that he and his father had devoted their lives to studying

and preserving the things of this realm—the animals and the trees and flowers—but that

they hardly saw it, felt it. They, both of them, were connected to Gondwana by a

33
membrane of data, statistical averages, variables and relationships. Cat's love was

direct. Pure.

As silently as he'd closed in he faded away and headed home. When he'd

poured a cup of Cat's tea and gathered his notes, he spread out at the big table outside.

He'd been letting his work slip lately. More and more. Somewhere, there was a part of

him who thought it, too. They'd never be rescued. He'd never get to defend the

dissertation based on his years of work on Gondwana. The proof was stranded there,

with them. They'd all die, and the proof would fade away, along with Gondwana itself.

But he wanted to believe. And his dad needed him to believe. Derrek suspected

that Doctor Victor Golding could more easily survive the death of his two children than

abandon his work.

****

Derrek finished off his glass of tea and scrawled a few hasty notes as the

evening light waned. Against the scratch of the pencil over paper he heard Cat

approach, but kept his eyes fixed on the page. Just the sight of her these days wrecked

his focus.

“Kitten? What is it?” he heard his father ask.

“Nirina's baby died.”

Cat looked small. Wounded. But Victor was staring at the sand at his feet. Cat

saw a mother with a dead infant. Victor, Derrek knew, saw a gradual erosion of an

ecosystem. A dark omen for the world.

“Did you bring the specimen back?”

34
 Cat set the tiny bundle she'd been holding against her chest, something wrapped

up in the t-shirt she'd been wearing when she set out that morning, on the table.

“Good. Make a note of the age and weight of the infant,” Victor said, still staring

at the ground. “And detail your observations with regard to the mother's post-partum diet

and foraging habits.”

Cat nodded and walked off.

“Dad!” Derrek scolded.

Victor looked up, startled from his dark musings. And his whole expression

altered. Derrek rose to go after her but Victor said, “No. Let me.”

Through the thin screen of bamboo that separated inside from outside their little

hut, Derrek heard his father saying, “Oh, Kitten, I'm sorry.” Derrek went to the door.

Watched them together. Cat's face veiled behind her dark hair hanging from her bowed

head, their father's broad hand caressing her back.

“Poor Nirina,” he heard Cat say, her voice rough and wet, “I think he was already

dead when I found them this morning. But she carried him around all day. And she was

crying. Her song was so pitiful. And she'd look down at him, and touch his little face.

And then she'd just hold him. All day, Daddy. And then she just dropped him. Dropped

him from the branch she was sitting on and let him fall. And he just landed in this little

heap on the ground. With this soft little thud.”

Victor pulled Cat against him, wrapped his arms around her. Rocked her slowly,

side to side. And Cat broke down, sobbing, clinging to him. Wracked sobs. Went limp

and sank, but Victor caught her, sank with her, cradled her on his lap, stroking her

35
glossy dark hair, holding her warm, lithe body against him, kissing her wet face, kissing

her hair, rocking her back and forth, back and forth.

A seed, a pit, hard and heavy and dark took root in Derrek's gut and sprouted

there, roots twisting and knotting, filling him up, sharp and searing.

****

God, fuck, what was he doing? But she was so... Beauty wasn't the word for it.

What attracted. Her vibrancy. The lithe power of her.

She stripped off her top and her skirt. Had she stopped wearing panties

altogether? After three years of sea water and salt air, maybe they'd all fallen apart.

Feral. That was how he thought of her, lately. A tame creature turned wild. Only

rarely did he catch himself thinking it was he who'd changed, not her.

In the deep freshwater lagoon she frolicked, rather than swam. Floating, diving,

turning forward and backward somersaults, evocative of the play of porpoises and

orcas. Except each revolution of her body through the frothing surface showed him her

gleaming, tawny body, her narrow, muscular back, the peaks of her shoulder blades,

the channel of her spine, the muscular spheres and deep cleft of her ass, her sleek

thighs. Or the swells of her breasts heralding the rise of naval, then hip bones, then the

black fur of her cunt.

His cock was full, full of hot want. Want for the swells of her breasts and the cleft

of her ass and the warm wet hidden between those long lean thighs. That want was

easy.

36
 The harder want was in him, clenching his chest, making his belly light and

hollow, blurring his thoughts. The want for her, his sister, bold and eager, hurt and stoic,

earnest, vulnerable.

When she emerged and perched on a rock where the sinking sun would dry and

keep her warm, her thighs parted and her hand slid down. Watching her from the lush

screen of the jungle's flora and their shadows, Derrek ran his hand over his shorts, over

the hard bulge swelling against his touch.

It felt sinister, hiding in the shadows, watching her so vulnerable there in the

open, in the light. But he was so hard with want, so drawn to her, he didn't have the

strength to leave.

So he went to her. Crept up on her like predator to prey. Watched the beads of

water on her arms, on her breasts, on her taut belly shrink and dwindle in number.

Watched the fine wisps framing her face dry and come loose from the dark ropes of wet

hair hanging and dripping onto the pale limestone. Watched her fingers slip between her

thighs, glide between her plump vulva, emerge glistening and slide between again.

Watched her moss green eyes open and fix him. As if she'd known he was there, all

along.

God, that smile. Her lashes fanned down and she watched her hand move

between her legs, then turned her gaze back up to him. How could she do that? Recline

naked on a rock, fingering her cunt like some girl in a porn flick, and look up at him with

such hopeful, vulnerable eyes?

She took her hand away, but left her legs open, offering her cunt, flushed and

wet and open, to his gaze. To his touch. To his mouth. To his body.

37
 Reaching forward, she slid her hand between his thighs, under his balls, and

gave them a gentle squeeze through his shorts. Then she curved her fingers at the

base of his rigid shaft and caressed up the length of him. When she reached the head

she feathered her touch over the fabric, pulled tight against his straining erection.

He stepped back. Broke their contact.

“I just,” he whispered. “I saw you. I was watching you. I didn't want to spy.”

“You can spy. Sometimes I imagine that. You watching me while I'm getting off.

But I'm glad you're here. Now you can do more than watch.”

His gut dropped. His eyes stung and his throat swelled.

“No. I can't.”

“Derrek, it's alright.”

“Please. Just lie there. Do what you were doing before. We can just watch each

other, like before.”

“Derrek. You want to have me.”

Want. Yes. Spread her thighs, lean and smooth. Spread her open. Open her

cunt. Part the furry lips, bare the wet pink of her slit. Smell her cunt's smell. Taste.

Burrow into her with his tongue. Eat. Fuck. Fuck, yes, spread her legs and push his

hard cock inside.

“Cat, don't.”

“You want to hold me against you. You want to kiss me. You want to be inside

me.”

“I won't, Cat. I can't.”

38
 “You will, Derrek. You can't help it. Just like you couldn't help letting me suck

you. Couldn't help pulling me down on you, couldn't help filling my mouth with your—“

“Stop it, Cat.”

He felt tears spill from his burning eyes and tickle down his cheeks.

“It's not your fault you can't help it. I made it so you can't.”

“You frolicking naked isn't an excuse.”

Watching him cry, she looked scared.

“Derrek.” He watched her pull herself in, make herself brave. “I drugged you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The tea.”

“The tea?”

“It's a...like an herbal ecstasy, sort of.”

“You drugged me?” He was too shocked to be angry or scared or to feel the guilt

that had dogged him for weeks, since that first time in the cave.

“You want this, Derrek. I mean, even before the drug. But you're trying so hard to

be good. Now you don't have to. You can't. The surge of testosterone, the lowered

inhibitions, you can't control it. Whatever happens, it's not your fault.”

There was still fear in her eyes, that soft vulnerability, but her smile was warm

and welcoming. She leaned forward and, still holding his gaze, she ran her hand over

his erection.

“Derrek. Please.”

She bowed her head and through his shorts, mouthed his hard cock. A fierce, hot

rage surged through him. He shoved her back and slapped her.

39
 Time stopped.

Then her face flushed red and tears rose, rose up over those moss green irises.

But she didn't cry.

Cat got to her feet and, arms crossed over her naked body, walked to her

clothes. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her top, getting it turned the right way

out, and pulled it on. As she stepped into her skirt and pulled it up, her whole body

seemed to be trembling. She laced up her shoes and ran into the jungle.

Something hot and bitter spilled through him. He didn't like it, not being able to

see her. Not having her close. He ran after her.

Into the shadows among the stalks and vines, the ferns and flowers. He chased

her. Caught her.

“Where are you going?” he growled.

“Home.”

She shrugged him off and kept walking.

“Home. Home to Daddy? He's been drinking your tea, too. Hasn't he?”

Derrek grabbed her arm and yanked her to a halt.

“Knock it off!” she barked, and shoved him back.

He staggered back. A root caught his foot. He slammed to the ground. A thorn or

branch cut his cheek.

Rage pounding his veins, Derrek scrambled to his feet and lunged. Pulled her

down. Felled his prey.

His. His.

40
 Hot and trembling under him, he could smell her, hear her fast breathing as he

pulled her skirt up, bared that deep cleft, and lower, her flushed, sticky sex. He reached

under the elastic of his shorts, grabbed his hard cock, and found her hot wet opening.

He tried to drive his cock into her, but her body resisted. With his knees he drove

her legs wider apart, he drove her shoulders down, forced her hips up high. Presenting

like a cat, like a bitch in heat.

He thrust again, driving his hardness into her wet heat, against that stubborn,

resistant barrier, and she made a little noise. Another thrust, and her flesh yielded and

gave way. He tore into her, drove his cock deep into that slick, flushed cunt. Fuck god

yes. Yes. He fucked her, fucked her hard and desperate. His dark hot need knotted,

blew apart. Clinging and thrusting, he emptied himself into her.

After, he clung to her while he caught his breath, until his trembling stopped.

Then he let go of her. Got off of her. She stayed still, prostrate.

Now that he wasn't inside her, he felt a lack. A gap. He needed something.

He flipped her onto her back. Fear kaleidescoped her irises, yellow-tinted greens

under water, like intricate tile work at the bottom of a shallow pool. She crossed her

arms over her middle and pulled her knees in close, like a fetus. But he still wanted, still

needed.

He pushed her knees open, splayed her thighs. Exposed her. Tense, quivering,

she shuddered when he touched her cunt, running his thumb along her slit, feeling the

slick fluids mingled among her folds. His body and hers, seeping together. That hot,

bitter need burned through him again. He needed more from her. More. The semen

41
seeping from her swollen, inflamed cunt like sap from a rose, it was something he'd lost.

Lost to her.

He put his mouth to her sex and she whimpered and convulsed under him.

Godfuck, her blood and her sex and his semen, and those delicate pink crenelations,

soft little petals, fragrant flesh, warm and alive to his tongue. He licked. Her petals

parted under his tongue, gave up her little pearl of pink flesh, left her open to this other

penetration, shallower, gentler. In tiny teasing tastes he devoured her, until her tense

resistance melted, until her legs stopped squeezing in on his shoulders and her knees

dropped open, yielding everything to him. Until her squirmy flexing, her meek efforts to

evade, to escape ceased, and she was rising to his mouth, writhing for his tongue. Until

she let out a soft cry, then sobbed and shuddered and flexed and her cunt spasmed

against him.

Tasting her, feeling her swollen, tender flesh respond to his mouth, he was hard

again. And now, looking at her, her pleasure twined up with fear, he felt that other want,

that other need that was about them.

He slipped over her, brought his hips between her thighs. Touched her face.

She'd bitten her lip—in pleasure or pain—and drawn blood.

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

Cat nodded, and he sank into her. She startled and whimpered, and he held

himself there, still, deep inside her. Her full lips were soft, so soft and yielding, parting

for his lips, taking his tongue. Her hot wet mouth drew him in, her tongue teased over

his.

42
 When he moved, when he pumped his hips and slipped from her heat, then

plunged into her again, she whimpered into his mouth and he pulled her tight to his

chest. So close, together and warm, their bodies twined up, legs and arms and fingers

and hair, inside her, all wrapped up in her. Like melting, like her wetness and his semen

mingled inside of her, merging until they were one. The same one.

She was watching him, her faceted eyes locked on his, and every movement of

his body echoed there. And she was flexing, rising to him, seeking every pulse of his

hips.

God he loved this. Loved her.

She keened and clawed at his back and it moved him, made his heart seem to

swell and his chest seem to tighten, her little whimper of need, her desperate little

seeking movements. The way her cunt gripped and milked his cock as she came,

groaning, almost growling. And when he came, she held him, held him in her gaze, and

after, cradled him against her, stroking his damp hair.

But when he raised himself to look at her, she seemed scared, vulnerable again.

“Are you sorry?” he asked.

“No.”

“You look sad.”

She asked, “Are you sorry?”

None of the cold, heavy regret he'd felt since the cave. Just the warm, needful

feeling was left. Not the physical need. The other.

“No.”

43
 When she smiled he kissed her forehead, hot and damp. Still buried inside her,

he kissed her lips, tasted her mouth again. Then gave her one tiny kiss at the edge of

her lip, where she'd bitten.

“You split your lip.”

“It hurt more than I thought. The virginity part.”

He put his mouth by her ear, breathed in the scent of her hair and whispered, “I

love you, Cat.”

Tears shimmered over her eyes. “I love you too, Derrek.”

“I love this. Feeling you against me. Holding me inside of you.”

“Me too.”

In the humid twilight, their skin slicked with sweat, they stroked and nuzzled

without talking. Then they rinsed off in the lagoon and walked home.

****

It was a quiet dinner. Usually their dad had something to say about what he'd

found or reasoned through during the course of the day, or chased various trains of

thought in search of an answer to some piece of the larger puzzle. But that night he was

silent and sullen. And Cat was too wrapped up in the thousand thoughts and wave after

wave of unnameable feelings, so she felt she'd gotten tangled in twining nets of kelp

and couldn't surface.

Every time she glanced at Derrek, she caught him gazing at her—not a direct

look, but from the corner of his eye, or from under his dark lashes as he pretended to

spear his food on his fork—and each time he blinked away from her gaze. Not one

44
smile. Tomorrow he'd push her away again. Maybe even slap her again. No matter what

she'd made up about the tea. Cat could hardly force a bite down.

When their dad went and got the pitcher of tea and offered to pour, Derrek

jumped up, tore the pitcher from his hands and dumped the contents in the sand.

“Would you mind explaining what that was about, Derrek?” their dad said in his

distinctly parental voice. A different voice than the one he used with them when they

were working together.

“Cat's not a goddamned chemist, you know. She shouldn't be concocting herbal

remedies on a whim. A lot of the plants here are poisonous.”

Hot tears stung Cat's eyes, but she kept them back. Now he'd tell her the effect

had worn off. That he was back in control. He'd tell her 'no'.

Now that he'd emerged from his haze of scatter plots and regression analyses,

their dad was scrutinizing them both with a wary eye. When his focus locked on Cat's

lap she followed his gaze down and saw the symmetric purple-red bruises mottling the

flesh of her inner thighs, she tugged the hem of her skirt lower.

“Aren't you hungry, Kitten?” he asked her, his voice cracked, hollow.

“Guess not.”

“How about we go for a walk, honey?”

She resisted the urge to glance at Derrek, and gave her dad a smile. “Love to.”

Cat didn't look back, but she could feel Derrek's stare prickling the back of her

neck as they tramped off. They walked on and on, her dad dragging the pace to a slow

stroll, contrary to his habit of going at a brisk stride. His need to speak settled on Cat,

weighing her down, but he was silent.

45
 “Daddy? Something's bothering you,” she finally said.

She could face an honest question, an accusation. Anything but this anguished

silence. During the twenty or thirty minutes they'd been walking she'd rehearsed their

dialog a dozen times. He'd ask her what was going on between her and Derrek, and

she'd say nothing special until he broke down and asked the real question. Then she'd

tell him the truth. It would be perverse to lie, then go on doing it. And they would, unless

Derrek stopped her.

Her father stayed silent until they cleared the jungle and emerged on the beach,

facing the ocean ablaze with the fucias and oranges of the setting sun. When they came

within sight of a low shelf of limestone at the base of a small cliff, her dad sat, and she

perched beside him.

When he turned from the sunset and looked at her, her chest cramped up. He

looked so hurt. So scared.

“Honey. I have to ask you something.” His voice was cracked and hollow. “It

hurts me, asking it. But I couldn't live with myself if I ignored the things I've been

noticing, and you...”

“Daddy. It's alright. Whatever you need to ask, I'll tell you.”

He combed her hair back with his fingers, and looked hard into her eyes.

“Honey.” He stopped. Caught his breath. “Cat. Derrek hasn't...” He pulled in a

deep breath and pushed it out. “Did Derrek rape you?”

Rape? Where had that come from? Images flickered by; her bruised thighs. The

split in her lip. The cut on Derrek's cheek. And Derrek's surly behavior at dinner. And

before that.

46
 “Daddy, no. God no. Daddy, Derrek's never hurt me. He'd never...”

“I'm sorry. God, I'm ashamed I asked. Just, he's been so odd lately. Toward you.

And tonight you come home with those bruises. I just had to be sure you were alright.”

“It's okay, Dad. I know you're just trying to take care of us. Derrek, too.”

She put her arms around him and hugged him tight. His hands holding her close,

stroking her hair felt good. Made her feel safe and loved.

“I won't tell him what you asked, Dad. Don't worry.”

“I don't think he's like that,” her dad said, his voice wavery. “I don't. I just had to

be sure, for your sake.”

“I know, Dad.”

****

The moment Cat woke, a nauseating panic swallowed her. The fires. She'd

completely forgotten them the night before. What had happened with Derrek had filled

up her head and pushed everything else out. Their dad was already gone, up and out

taking temperature readings like he did first thing every morning before the sun was

really up. Trying to keep quiet and not wake Derrek she dressed and left for the bluff.

Two of the fires were out. She ignited a bit of kindling in the third, and got

everything going again. The thought of the regret, the heartbreak if they'd heard a plane,

seen a boat while the fire was out made her chest go tight.

In the early, slanting light she scrambled down from the bluff, descended into the

jungle's cacophony of twittering birds and singing lemurs. Something big rustled the

foliage ahead and she stopped, heart pounding even though there were no large

47
predators on the island. Nothing bigger than the fossa, and they were nocturnal,

anyway.

The leaves and shoots hissed and shuddered just in front of her, and Derrek

emerged, striped in bands of light and shadow. Flushed and panting as if he'd run the

whole way, he stood there, not speaking, just staring with his big aqua eyes.

“Derrek? What's wrong?”

“Where's Dad?”

“I don't know. Somewhere, taking his readings.”

What are you doing?”

She confessed her sin. “I forgot the fires last night.”

Instead of chastising her, blaming her in advance for ruining their chance of

getting back to the mainland, destroying their lives, single-handedly undermining their

one hope of saving the world, Derrek's wild eyes calmed, and his mouth spread in an

amused smile. Then the smile faded.

Now he'd say it. Never again. She'd never feel him inside her again. Never have

his kiss, never feel the hot weight of him on her, never watch his face transformed by

the ecstasy of their union. He'd tell her he wouldn't drink the tea, that he was free of her

spell. That he hated himself. That he hated her.

“Cat?” his voice was soft. His aqua eyes darkened. “You look so sad.”

She just looked at him and waited. Waited for him to tell her to leave him alone.

Instead he brushed her hair back with his fingertips, gave her face a gentle caress,

leaned in and touched a soft kiss to her temple. Warmth rushed from the little spot his

lips had touched and flooded down her whole body.

48
 “That's better,” he said, smiling, when he looked at her again.

“I was scared you'd be...you threw out the tea, and—“

He brushed his lips against hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. Then locked her in his

gaze and smiled. “It was never the tea, Cat. It was always you. Us.”

Soft, gentle, he kissed her lips, too tender, too careful to satisfy the violent

hunger his mouth, his touch woke in her. She sought his tongue, nursed at his lips,

devoured his kiss. They stripped each other bare, tasted every inch of flesh, licked the

salt from each others' skin. His piquant scent was oxygen to her now, brought her to life.

She breathed him in, tasted his hot mouth, brought his thick, hard cock against her sex

and inch by inch, took him in. Swallowed the whole rigid length of him.

It was a pain-laced pleasure, the sense of him opening, stretching, filling her. His

hardness buried deep in her softness. She writhed over him, whimpered and shuddered

as he teased and tugged her nipples, sending a current of pleasure through her core,

into her sex.

So good, this link, this hot sticky pulsing connection with him, Derrek. A lifetime

of love, her first love, part of her nest, this man inside her, watching her milk her

pleasure from his cock. After, they clung together, a sweat-slick knot of limbs wound

around the center where his cock was still buried inside her.

“You're so beautiful,” she breathed, nurturing the little ache in her chest, loving

those eyes the color of their lagoon, his light irises ringed with an inky dark indigo, and

fringed with thick, black lashes. His pretty, full lips. Even the whorl of his ear was

endearing. Moving. So delicate, the sun turning it translucent.

49
 “I always kind of wished I looked more like Dad. Not such a pretty boy, you

know?”

“Dad's a hottie. For a science nerd, I mean.”

“Hey!”

“What do you think? I'd describe him as a cross between George Clooney and

Gregory Peck.”

“Hello. Not making it better!” Derrek teased, but there was a little genuine hurt

lacing his voice.

“Come on, Derrek. You know how...” her green eyes rolled up toward the sky and

she let out a long, sensuous sigh, “unbearably lovely you are. Every one of my

girlfriends—the straight ones, at least—had you at the top of their list of fantasy lovers.

The only reason you didn't get more, back home, is because you're so effing aloof. You

never had time for anything but your mollusks and groupers. Well, that, and you were

well on your way to being an incorrigible serial monogamist.”

He laughed, his slightly crooked eye teeth adding to the allure of his smile. “As

opposed to what? A poon hound?”

“Poon? Did Doctor Golding just say 'poon'?”

“You know what I mean. What do you think? I should have been nailing

everything that walked?”

“Everything in moderation.”

“You weren't doing so well on the moderation, Miss Ironpants.”

“Give me a break! I was fifteen when we Gilliganed. What were you? Twenty

when you popped your cherry?”

50
 “Nineteen,” he confessed sheepishly.

“I was more interested in sex a la D.H. Lawrence and the anatomical illustrations

in Gray's Anatomy than real live boys, back then. But I count myself lucky to have such

a fine specimen of manhood nearby, now that I'm ready for the real thing.”

“You're so good, Cat.” His eyes went pink and shimmery. “This, with you, its so

good. I didn't even realize, but I'd forgotten what it felt like.”

“Sex?”

He laughed, and a tear leaked from the corner of his eye and wandered down his

cheek.

“No. What it's like to be happy.”

****

Sex—at least in the abstract—and her body, being naked, had never

embarrassed her. But Derrek had a way of making her feel bare and vulnerable.

Lying on their sides facing each other, the way he looked at her, his gaze fixed

on her nipple, watching how it crinkled and swelled when he blew on it after he'd

glossed it with his tongue, she'd never felt so exposed. And it made her cunt throb and

seep.

“Open your legs,” he breathed.

She hinged her top leg, raised her knee to the sky. Holding her gaze, now,

Derrek brushed his fingers over her curls, then teased one fingertip between her lips,

along her slick slit. Letting him look into her eyes as he touched, she moaned when his

finger parted her folds and, slick with her arousal, rubbed over her clit. Fingering her

pussy, massaging her whole mons, then rubbing one or two fingers along the length of

51
her seeping slit, fretting her clit on every stroke he dipped down and brushed his warm

wet tongue over her stiff nipple and she whimpered, flexing for his hand. Two fingers

entered her, pumped into her, and her whole body seemed to seize and clamp down on

that touch, unlike anything she'd felt. With three pulsing sucks he let her nipple go,

bared it, wet and hard, to the air, so he could watch her face.

Working his fingers inside her, fucking her, he watched her as she flexed to grind

her clit against the heel of his hand. Desperate, seeking, scared to lose that big

pleasure building in her, an almost painful pressure, she whined and humped his flexing

hand, his fingers plunging into her, and almost scared, the feeling was so much, taking

her over, taking away control, she begged, “Derrek! Derrek!,” and he pumped his fingers

faster and the pleasure ruptured and rippled through her, all around his fingers and out,

through her belly and thighs, and slowly, slowly died down in quiet echoes that went on

and on. He watched her through it all.

“I want you to teach me everything,” she said, after. “Everything lovers do.”

He laughed. “I'm afraid you're giving me way too much credit. I was only with two

women, before you. And our repertoires were pretty vanilla.”

“Well, I think we're well out of vanilla territory, here.”

“Yeah.”

It was good to see him smile at that. Not blush and look away.

“Well,” she said, “I still want to try everything. Experience everything.”

He was still smiling at her, and his aqua eyes got teary, not sad teary, but the

way they looked when he was sentimental about something. “I love that about you. How

you're that way with everything. Curious. Wanting to try different things.”

52
 ****

A pair of nested S's, he moved inside her, his Cat, the power of her lithe body

coming through in every motion, her abs flexing under his hand, her back muscles going

taut then lax, taut then lax all along his torso, her legs twining against his, flexing for

leverage as she sought to pull him deeper into her slick heat. But they were going slow.

Languorous. He'd gone into her just minutes after they'd drained each other. Their

aching need sated, this was for want, for comfort, her head cradled in the bend of his

arm, his mouth roaming over the little curves of her ear, the angle of her jaw, her soft,

smooth cheek, the arch of her eyebrow, the impossibly delicate eyelid, her lashes

tickling his lips.

“I love you, Cat.” He loved telling her as they kissed, as they fucked. The sound

of her name and “love” in his mouth, voicing his heart.

Her “I love you,” echoed back to him, soft in her throat, over and over, a chant

from a trance.

With a fingertip he circled her nipples, first one, then the other, then traced a line

down her body until he found her delicate little knot of flesh nestled between her swollen

lips, and rubbed it gently until he felt her body clench around him, spasming. He

watched her full lips part, watched her eyes squint tight, two little vertical furrows darken

between her eyebrows as she came, and a euphoria swept through him. Perfect, warm

joy.

Then something pulled his gaze away and up and his eyes met his father's.

Father. Standing on the rise above them. He'd seen. Seen everything.

Their dad turned his back and walked away, up the rise, toward their hut.

53
 “What?” Her voice.

Her voice. She surrounded him. He pulled out. Too late. Too late. He'd fucked

her. He'd fucked Cat. He'd licked his seed from her flower. He'd fucked her and He'd

seen.

Her voice. “Dad. Oh god.”

Meat on a spit is what he thought when she rotated to face him staying in exactly

the same place. Brushing against him as she turned. “Derrek. It's okay. It was never

going to stay a secret forever. It couldn't.”

Dad had seen him fucking his sister.

“It'll be okay. Not today, but soon. It'll be okay, Derrek.” Her fingers were in his

hair and her green eyes and her brown nipples were so close. Too close.

“Please stop touching me.”

“All right.” Her hands were off him. He couldn't feel her hot thighs or her warm

breath, now. And if he closed his eyes, her smooth gleaming skin was gone, too. “What

do you think he's thinking?”

“I'm a monster.”

“No. Derrek, he's not thinking that.”

A long silence.

Then she said, “I wonder if he's glad.”

“Glad?” Derrek groaned.

“Really. He wants to believe we'll get out of here someday, just like we all do. But

however hard he keeps trying to work and live, like next week or next month we'll be in

54
Mozambique, and on to London, Dad's a pragmatist, not a moralist. We're rational

beings. And we're animals with drives. Dad will understand. We need each other.”

“I was supposed to take care of you.” Derrek's words half-dissolved in his throat.

“You do. Derrek, you do.”

He wanted her touch to burn, like a condemning brand, but it felt so good.

Soothing. He felt like a child, small and scared as she put her arms around him,

shielding him from judging eyes. Her fingers in his hair, her caress up and down the

length of his back, the soft heat of her body made him feel loved. Safe.

****

“Derrek. We can't hide from Dad forever.”

The sun had gone down.

“I can't, Cat.”

“Imagine what he's going through, Derrek. If he sees us, sees that we're okay,

that we're happy, it's going to make him feel better.”

“Cat, I can't. I can't look at him. Face him.”

“Alright. I'm going home.”

She stood up and put on her clothes, then knelt and put her arms around him,

pulled him to her, kissed his wet cheek, and held him as she whispered, her voice

hissing at his ear.

Never. He'd die. He'd kill. Kill all of them.

Tight, she held him to her warmth, absorbed his trembling. Whispered.

God, she was so full of love. Her love, tearing at him. Ripping him open, spilling

him in the sand.

55
 She tried to get inside him with her green eyes, tried to dam his tears with her

kisses. But when she walked away, he lied still in the sand while the rain came and the

sun sank, calming himself with the image of a thousand crabs scuttling up the beach to

devour him.

****

Cat half expected to find her dad immersed in his notes and scatter plots, hiding

from more visceral truths, but when she got to camp he was sitting stiffly upright at the

big work table, gazing into the jungle beyond the clearing. His eyes locked on her the

moment she emerged from the dense foliage.

“Hi Daddy.”

“Hi Kitten.”

No anger in his voice. Just sadness.

“Daddy, we...”

“You looked happy. Both of you.”

“Yes.”

“Then I'm glad.” His voice broke apart. “Is that awful of me?”

“No, Daddy.”

He sat as rigid and straight as before, but the whites of his eyes had gone red

and tears spilled down his face.

“Daddy, I'm happy. And Derrek will be happy, too, when he sees you don't hate

him, when he lets go of his guilt.”

“You're not ashamed.”

“No.”

56
 “That's right. That's good. You shouldn't be. You've always been good, Cat, at

reasoning to your own conclusions. But Derrek, he's like most of us. He needs approval.

Society's approval. His father's approval.”

Cat tried to comfort her dad with a smile. They both knew, she had more natural

aptitude than Derrek for science. That Derrek's choice of career had been inspired by

admiration for his father, and motivated, a least in part, by a need to prove himself to

him. To win a larger share of his father's love.

“God, what have I done? What have I done to you both? Every hope, every

dream either of you ever had went to the bottom of the sea with that boat. Because of

me.”

“Shhh. Daddy.” She sat down beside him on the bench and put her hand on his

shuddering back.

“What kind of man drags his children off to an unpopulated island? In secret, in

violation of international treaties, so they don't even know where to look for us? And

doesn't even leave before the monsoons? Because a fragment of data is a few days out

of reach? I've ruined your life, Cat. I'm so sorry.”

“Don't, Dad. Don't be sad. I'm not. My life isn't what I pictured, what I planned.

But it's not ruined. It's whole and beautiful.”

He smiled at her, but his dark eyes were so full of pain, it hurt her to look at him.

“Whole and beautiful. That's good, Kitten. Rome will burn. There's no water, so

let the fire eat the library and the temple. At least there's music.”

“Daddy?”

57
 Fat warm drops of rain pelted them. All around them the jungle hissed under the

coming torrent. Victor stood and drifted to the center of the clearing, his dark eyes blind

to her, to where his steps took him. If he was crying, the rain camouflaged his tears.

“What have I done? What have I done?” he mumbled, sinking to his knees in the

mud. When she sank down before him, she could barely discern his, “All those children,

crying for milk. And poor Nirina's dry.”

“Daddy, please.” Seeing her dad crumple and weep terrified. “Please don't give

up. We didn't mean that. Please.”

She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him. Since she was a

tiny child, he'd held and rocked her this way when she was hurt. She stroked his wet

hair, kissed his wet face. His arms wound around her, so tight he seemed to be clinging

for life.

“It's okay, Daddy.”

The wet earth mouthed their legs, trying to swallow them. Their wet skin, their hot

bodies, rain warm like blood dissolving the ground beneath them so they would sink.

“Just hold onto me, Daddy. Don't let go. Don't let go.”

Below them the earth was soft, between them he was hard, hard sorrow, hard

loss, hard need and the sky bled on them, they were slick with it, kneeling in it, the

earth's blood, shed by the sky. In her hand he was hot and hard, slick and swollen with

blood.

When he shuddered and sobbed she said, “Please Daddy. Don't let go. Hold on

to me.”

58
 She took him in, held him safe in her warmth, her body's tight embrace, and he

held her closer, clung more desperately. She wanted. His pain, his love. Wrapped

around him, their bodies locked, heads nestled in the crooks of necks, arms wound

around, her hungry body swallowing him, her tiny flexes milked him of his pain, drank up

his love.

Still sinking in the mud, her slick heat still nursing at his hardness, she touched

his lips with hers, drank his little sob, and kissed, deep and warm. Once, they yielded

and looked at each other through a few inches of air and rain. His dark eyes saw her,

now, not Rome and fires. He saw her, and took her kiss.

****

Derrek stood by the hut, letting the hot rain lash his bare skin, begging himself for

the strength to open the door. To endure the burden of his crimes. To face his father's

dark eyes.

Inside there was relentless black, but they were both there. He knew. He could

smell them. The air in the hut was thick with the scent of their warm bodies. Close,

musky, a den of copulating animals.

Hot rage burned up his shame. Seething, panting, he found them, clumped in a

warm bundle of flesh. Ready to fight, he took hold of her smooth calf and dragged her

away from the other male.

No kick, no scream. No lunge and pounce. Her breath sped up, but she was soft.

Naked and damp and redolent of the other, she let Derrek spread her open, let him fill

her sticky cunt with his hard cock. Hungry for blood he bit her lips and she bit back and

writhed under him as he fucked, thrusting madly between her splayed, sticky thighs. He

59
bit and sucked her breasts, licked and nipped her throat, fucking, frenzied, his cock so

sore and hard, tearing into her with his need, growling, screaming, fucking her. Needing

to spill, godfuck, dying to pour his heat into her.

He clutched her sweaty thigh, dug his fingers into her slippery flesh, pumped his

hips, drove his hard, aching length into her slick sheath over and over, inhaled her

breath, tasted her mouth. It made him hotter and harder, more needful when she

keened and clutched, bucked under his violent thrusts. God. Fuck. He sank into her and

spilled it all.

He was still shaking with exhaustion and fear when she whispered his name and

drew him with her, back to the nest. She settled in between them and put her arm

around him, pulling him close against her. The next moment he felt a second, heavier

arm, a larger hand settle on his middle.

They slept. They woke. Even Victor forgot the morning's work, and the three of

them went to the sea, gathering fruit along the way. They lounged in the morning sun,

ate and swam and played. When Cat stripped out of her skirt and tank top, and and

merged into the surf in a threadbare but matching set of sky blue bra and panties, Derek

guessed she'd decided, at some point, to preserve what undergarments still survived for

family outings to the beach. That's why she was always naked, lately, under her tanks

and shorts. Why, usually, he only had to slip his hand under the hem of her skirt to find

her sex, bare and hot and wet.

Derrek watched his father with new eyes. All his life, he'd looked up to him, the

wise, gentle patriarch, the esteemed professor, the renowned botanist; he'd emulated

60
him, done everything to win praise, to get that certain look of adoring approval from

those inky blue eyes. But he'd never seen him as a man. Not until that day in the cave.

Now, watching him tease and wrestle with Cat in the surf, Derrek saw why he'd

felt so threatened, so angry these last few weeks. Older, smarter, taller, broader, even

more virile and manly-looking, Victor was the alpha.

But he'd let Derrek have Cat, right in front of him. He'd lain there in the dark,

listening to their grunts, the sound of their hot bodies slapping together as they coupled.

Would he expect Derrek to do the same? Passively watch his father fuck his sister? The

seething jealousy he'd felt as he'd smelled the proof of their mating in the hut roiled in

his belly.

All morning he waited for Victor to leave them alone, to go on his daily circuit

around the island, collecting samples, recording temperatures. Never since they'd come

ashore had he neglected a morning's work. But hour after hour he was still there,

napping in the morning sun, cooling himself in the cerulean sea.

He emerged from the water, his wet shorts clinging to his thighs, hugging his

long, thick cock. The sight of it tortured Derrek with images of it swollen and stiffly

pointing upward, of Cat opening her mouth and drawing it between her lips, of their

dad's hard cock aimed like a spear at his sister's cunt, the swollen head nuzzling and

parting her lips and nudging its way inside.

As if she'd read his mind, as if she wanted to kill him with jealousy and hurt, the

moment their dad sat on his mat and laid back, still dripping from his swim,Cat crawled

over to him on her hands and knees, slinking up between his hairy thighs. Propping

himself on his elbows, their dad looked into her mischievous green eyes, and grinned.

61
 “May I?” she asked, then added, “Daddy?” Fuck, the twisted little bitch was into it.

The incest thing.

The fierce sun pounded Derek's head, hot, aching. Each pulse of blood throbbing

behind his eyes where her, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” echoed, mingling with the ripe, thick

smell of their coupling where Derek had found them clinging together in the dark the

night before.

Now, in the violent light, she brushed her delicate fingertips along the length of

that long, fat cock, in crude relief in its sheath of wet fabric. When she touched him, their

father's belly fluttered, and even though she took her hand away, his prick started to

swell and rise. Neither of them gave Derrek so much as a glance. It felt like someone

was strangling him.

Cat tore the velcro fly apart and slid Victor's shorts down, and his stiffening cock

flopped onto his hip. Not as long as Derrek's. But thicker.

Derrek wanted to scream as Cat licked her lips, lowered her face to her dad's

crotch and engulfed the engorged head. Their dad whimpered. Maybe Victor hadn't had

his cock sucked since their mom had died. Six years. Somehow, that took a little of the

sting out of it, what Cat was doing. Still, his gut wrenched as Derrek watched inch after

inch of his dad's erection sink between Cat's full, glossy lips, and his own cock rebelled

against his sour indignation, pulsing blood engorging and lifting it.

“Am I doing alright, Daddy?” Cat asked with a teasing grin, letting the spit-

gleaming cock stand up on its own for a moment.

Victor smiled, his expression a mixture of arousal and wry amusement. But his

husky voice was rough with tender feeling. “Yes, Kitten.”

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 Derrek's heart hammered his ribs. She was his. His, not Victor's. He tore his

gaze from her full mouth sliding up and down that fat wet cock, swallowing, expelling,

swallowing, and scanned the beach for something heavy. A rock. A chunk of wood.

Nothing.

When he looked again, Victor turned and his ink-blue eyes met Derrek's and his

wry smile went earnest and kind. Her face hovering over their dad's swollen cock, Cat

turned to Derrek, dipped her back and raised her ass. Presenting. Cold rage splashed

through Derrek's hollow gut. No more.

No more thoughts. Derrek just felt. His aching need throbbing through his stiff

cock, and want. Want to possess. A driving need to take what she offered.

Hands and knees digging into the shifting sand he crawled forward, low for the

strike. His. Her ankle, rigid angles in his hand. Her calf muscles, her thigh muscles

flexed when he pulled. Her foot slipped from his grip. He grabbed both ankles, dragged

her back. She grunted and kicked back. Her foot struck his chest and she crawled back

to Victor, back to her meal of raw cock. And Derrek crawled after her.

Knelt behind her. So close, now, he couldn't see her sucking, but he could hear

the wet friction of her mouth on their dad's cock. Cat's panties had ridden up, half-buried

between her ass cheeks. Her arousal had seeped through the crotch, and a wet spot

mapped the topography of her cunt. Derrek peeled her panties away from her sex and a

clear thread of her slick juice stretched as he pulled her them down.

Heart hammering, his whole body shaking, Derrek pulled out his hard cock and,

gripping the base in his fist like the hilt of a sword, brought the swollen head to her slick,

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inflamed cunt. Her wet heat clenched around him and she whimpered around the cock

in her mouth as he sank into her.

His eyes met the blue-black eyes of his father, and Derrek's chest tightened at

the same time a startling heat suffused his body. Victor's languorous arousal seemed to

sharpen. For a second he looked almost scared.

“All right, Kitten?” he asked, combing his fingers through Cat's hair.

“All right,” she growled, that feral, needful sound she made when she wanted.

She'd let go of Victor's cock and arched up, tilting her head back, and smiled at

Derrek over her shoulder. The sight of her lips, reddened and slightly swollen, and

Derrek had to taste, had to kiss. Still sunk deep in her, his hip pressed hard to her ass,

he strained forward for her mouth, licked and bit her lips, tasted her tongue, her familiar

flavor laced with the unfamiliar taste of the other.

Startled, shocked but too hot, too driven to care, he released her mouth and,

buried in her clinging heat, waited for it, wanting to watch it. Cat, her lips still parted and

wet from their kiss, sank down and drew Victor's flushed, engorged head into her

mouth. As if it were his cock being suckled and and licked, a vicarious twinge of

pleasure shot through Derrek. When he looked up, his father smiled at him through his

pleasure, and Derrek startled, suddenly aware how much his bitter rage had subsided.

And Cat. His exuberant Cat, so lithe and gleaming and earnest, her hips

undulating as she sucked, so even though he was still, kneeling behind her, her cunt's

slick grip massaged his stiff cock. He sank down on her, molded his body over hers.

God, how was it he could discern her scent, the fragrance of her hair and skin, apart

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from the salt scent of the sea she'd frolicked in all morning, apart from himself and his

father?

Behind her, inside her he started to move. He pulled slowly back, then with a

determined thrust, sank into her. As he fucked he watched her, sliding the tight O of her

lips up, up, baring the turgid, veined shaft of Victor's cock, sheened with her saliva, the

inflamed crown. Derrek pumped into her, watched the tip of her tongue peek out from

between her full lips to tease the delicate slit, to lap up the pearl of fluid there. Then the

fat head, the long thick shaft all disappeared between her lips.

Godfuck. He pumped, frenzied, wanting deeper into her heat, her wet, the flexing

grip of her cunt. Hard, deep, he fucked her while she sucked their dad, wet slurping

sounds mingling with the clap of their bodies joining and the wet noises of his cock

plunging into her pussy over and over.

Derrek pushed her bra up, bared her tits, found her nipples, already stiff and

peaked atop her bunched aureole. Fucking, grunting, needing, he teased and tugged

her nipples, and she keened, her whimpers muffled by her ardent sucking. He reached

under with his other hand, found his way through her sopping curls and with two fingers

started teasing and rubbing her clit. Now each time he thrust home she grunted, not the

high little keening note she made sometimes, but a low, fierce growl that provoked him,

drove him to fuck her more desperately.

“Oh, Kitten, I'm going to...”

Their dad, still propped up on his elbows, watching Cat lick and suck him,

watching Derrek's frenzied pumping, dug his fingers into the sand like a pair of grasping

claws. His lean belly flexed, his jaw dropped, and he let out a long, throaty groan.

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 Jesus fuck, their dad was pumping his seed into Cat's mouth.

“Please, Cat. Please,” Derrek begged, thrumming her swollen pink bud, her juice

dripping and coating his fingers, tweaking her stiff nipple, driving his cock deep into her

gripping cunt. “Please.”

He heard her swallow, once, twice, then her huffing panting, and more low

growling groans. Then she collapsed onto Victor's belly and cried out as her cunt

spasmed, clamping down on Derrek's cock over and over, more and more gently. When

he let go, let himself, it only took a few slow, deep strokes and Derrek felt the pending,

inevitable climax bear down on him, shake him, then wring him out as he emptied

himself inside her.

Cold fear washed over him the moment he'd spent his want, his need to take

what Victor had claimed from him. What had he done? What had all of them done? His

dad and his sister lay there, limp and sweaty, panting, sticky with each other's saliva

and ejaculate and slick musk. And he was kneeling there, his cock electric with nerves

as he slipped from her still quivering cunt, both their juices seeping from between her

swollen, flushed lips.

“It's alright, Derrek.”

His father's ink-blue eyes were on him. God, how could that paternal gaze be

such a comfort at a moment like this? So reassuring? Cat looked up at him, sated and

smiling, her eyes drowsy and heavy-lidded. With a caress she coaxed him down beside

her, and the three of them dozed until the heat drove them from the beach and they

retreated to the shade of the jungle.

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 Finally Victor made his rounds of the island, but contrary to habit he quit work

long before dark. They'd all forgotten the signal fires for more than a day, and Cat

dashed off to get them going again while the men made dinner. In her absence, they

were restless, agitated. When she got back, they all seemed to forget their hunger for

food until their other wants were sated.

It went on like that, that night, the next day, week after week. Victor, always

patient, always gentle, and Derrek, always hungry. Needful. Jealous. She could kiss her

father, taste his mouth, his body, she could take him in and milk his pleasure from him,

but only after her brother was sated. Sometimes, even one fuck, one climax was no

guarantee. She could leave him spent and panting and go to her father, and still Derrek

would drag her back to take her again before he'd let her go. Derrek always took her

first thing upon waking. Victor never took anything until it was offered. And even when

she offered herself to him, seeking him with her eyes and opening her thighs, showing

him her cunt, instead of climbing between her legs and taking his pleasure, sometimes

Victor would leave her there, cradled in her brothers arms, and settle his head lightly on

her inner thigh, like a pillow, and tongue the folds where Derrek had spilled his seed

moments earlier.

All this, and she wanted more. Even more than Derrek, she was hungry. She

needed. To draw Derrek, she only needed to go to Victor. To find him soft and warm

under the sheet, to caress him until he was hard, to straddle him and take him in. The

sound of their sex or the scent woke Derrek. Was it his want? Or his hurt? She didn't

know. She was only sure he'd have to have her, that if he couldn't drag her from Victor,

he'd take her another way.

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 When Victor startled and tried to let her go, to give her to Derrek, when she clung

fast, when Derrek mounted her right there where she was, on top of their father, rolling

her hips over him, sliding her cunt up and down the hard length of him, when Victor

gasped, “Derrek, God, don't,” she smiled and kissed him quiet, tilted her hips and went

still.

But it hurt too much and Derrek couldn't get in. Victor said “Use the oil.” Victor

held her in his arms and kissed her and told Derrek what to do, cradled her against his

chest as Derrek slid his oiled finger into her, as Derrek trembled against her and worked

his greased cock into her. With both of them inside her, fucking, panting, groaning,

sighing, Victor kissing her mouth, Derrek biting her neck and sucking at her ears and

tugging her nipples her hunger rose and crashed and ebbed.

The monsoon season was coming. They spent a day breaking down the hut,

securing the wall and roof panels, the table and benches and removing their equipment,

notebooks, clothing, pots and utensils to the cave at the southern tip of the island

where they wintered every year, sheltered from the relentless rains and the threat of

cyclones like the one that had stranded them.

They retreated into their cave, into the close dark. Hidden in their cave they lived

off the stores of fruit, nuts and roots they'd gathered. In their nest they were warm, so

they seldom left it. When summer returned with sunshine and warmer rains, they

emerged and returned, naked and innocent, to their Eden.

They swam in the sea, bathed in their lagoon and under the falls, they picked

cherimoya, maprang and sugar apples and mated with all the urgency of nature, like the

sifakas, though there would be no offspring. In twos and threes they joined, and the

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tilapia swallowed up the last of the algae. Twice impaled, she writhed, Victor tasting her

tongue, Derrek cupping her breasts as the signal fires burned out and went cold. The

chytrid devoured the Mantella aurantiaca, the tomato frog, and the boophis while Cat

and Derrek ate and drank between each other's thighs as Victor spilled his seed beyond

her dark star. They frolicked in the surf and writhed on the hard, wet sand and a vessel

passed and they kissed and touched, penetrated and enveloped, licked and sucked and

Nirina went hungry when her flowers didn't bloom.

The End

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 ABOUT VARIAN KRYLOV
Since her girlhood in a sunny coastal town in California, Varian Krylov has
nurtured a love of words and a curiosity about the deep, dark forces at work in
human nature, especially sexuality, and how they often paradoxically twine with
our tenderest impulses. Her stories tend to explore the sometimes fine line
between what arouses, and what frightens, what we’re driven to, and what we’re
ashamed of.

If you enjoyed LOST, you might also enjoy:

NAUGHTY BITS
By Selena Kitt

David has been brightening up his gray Surrey, England days with the porn
collection hidden in his parents’ shed, but when he finds that his older sister,
Dawn has discovered his magazine collection, things really begin to heat up.
Their parents insist that their just-graduated son look for a job, but their daughter
has the week off and is determined to work on her tan. Distracted David finds
himself increasingly tempted by his seductive older sister, who makes it very

70
clear what she wants. Her teasing ways slowly break down the taboo barrier
between brother and sister until they both give in to their lust… but what are they
going to do about the feelings that have developed between them in the
meantime…?

Warning: This title contains incest and anal sex.

Excerpt From NAUGHTY BITS:

If my mum and dad found out about my collection of porn in the shed, I knew

they’d both kick-off and I’d be sleeping under a bench in the Underground, buying

papers to keep me warm—instead of buying them like I was now, looking for a job. As it

was, they were on at me to find something, and fast. I didn’t get why I had to figure it all

out, what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. What was the rush?

My sister, Dawn, got to preen around the health club at her summer job. So why

was I supposed to find something “responsible?” Dawn had been living at home since

she finished school, aside from a couple of disastrous attempts at living with a

roommate that my parents had ended up paying more for in the long run, anyway.

My parents made all sorts of exceptions for her. I had hoped that her laziness, or

as my mother put it, her “lack of focus,” might pave the way for me to spend some time

loafing off after I finished school, too, but no—apparently, Dawn got the welcome mat,

but I got threatened with the boot. I didn’t get it.

I shut the back door and looked up at the sky. We didn’t get days like this in

Surrey very often—so bright and blue and clear. We spent most of our time walking

around in the usual London grey, looking at a hazy kind of film over the sun. Days like

today made me remember being a kid, endless summers with no responsibilities, no

cares, no worries. So much for that, I thought, flopping the paper down on the patio

table and glaring at it.

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 I sat in one of the folding chairs and took a highlighter out of my pocket. The first

thing I circled was a construction company. Maybe I could find something working

outside—get a tan, build some muscle. That might lead to getting a girlfriend, I thought

hopefully. That got me to thinking about Julie Entwistle, the girl rumoured to wear

nothing under her skirts in sixth form. She sat right next to me in English, but I never did

see anything—not that I didn’t try. For a girl who was supposed to be a slag, she sure

kept her legs together a lot.

Thinking about Julie’s skirt, and more importantly, what might be found under her

skirt, made my jeans uncomfortably tight. I shifted in the chair, shoving at my crotch and

turning the page of the newspaper, re-focusing my efforts. The ad that caught my eye

read: Exotic dancers wanted to perform at private, solo, and bachelor parties… I

snorted—so much for trying to focus. Now my cock was officially hard. I glanced over at

the shed, thinking of the boards my dad stored in there that “might come in handy”

some day. They came in handy for hiding my porn collection.

I folded the paper up and tucked it under my arm, heading toward the shed. My

dad’s toolbox doubled as a step stool and was perfect for sitting on. I dug under the

boards, pulling out my meagre collection. Two Playboys and a Penthouse, although the

latter was a “Letters” edition, and the stories were pretty hot. The last one was my

favourite, a magazine called Naughty Bits, which was way more hardcore than the

others. I’d never seen another one before or since, although believe me, I’d looked.

I opened it up to my favourite page, and there she was. Blonde, although clearly

dyed because her pubes were dark, a full-breasted and full-bodied girl—really unusual

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for most spreads nowadays where the models were like stick figures. This woman was,

well… a woman.

The next best part was the layout itself—a girl all alone on her bed looking at

porn. Did girls do that? I loved how she rolled over and spread her legs, revealing that

there was nothing under her skirt. She started masturbating, and would you look at that,

next page, here comes her brother. Probably it was her boyfriend, but I had this fantasy

in my head that it was her brother. And the next thing you know, she’s sucking him off.

God, how I wished it was that easy. Hi there, whoops, didn’t mean to interrupt, but since

I’m here, zzziiiip, flop, here’s this hard cock you can suck…

I unzipped my jeans and tugged them down a little, slipping my hand into my

boxers. Nowhere near as big as the guy positioning his cock at her pink little hole (I

loved that picture, her fingers spreading herself open for him like that. Gah! Did girls do

that?) but respectable enough—nice and thick, and most definitely stiff. She did it for

me, every time. I started masturbating, my eyes skipping from the wet pink of her cunt

to her thick, dark pink nipples. I spent some time there, wanking away and staring at the

slit between her legs. She spread it open with both hands, and there was a little hole

there, right where I wanted to slide my cock, a small dark hollow leading to heaven.

I got myself good and worked up before starting to turn the next page, because it

was my favourite, and it was the image I always came to—her ass up in the air, his cum

sliding down her asshole and cunt. I was looking forward to that image, still staring

between her legs. I only stopped for a moment, breathless, to turn the page, and I saw

something that made my cock jump and my heart race. There was writing in the margin,

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near the page number. An arrow toward the girl (god, look how that thick cum slid down

that pink slit!) and the words, “She looks like me.”

That was Dawn’s handwriting—the fat, curly letters, the heart over the “i.” My

sister had been looking at my porn? Why, I wondered? If she wanted to get me in

trouble, she could have taken it to my mum. Instead, she just wrote in the margins. And

what she’d written! I flushed. I knew the girl looked remarkably like my sister—the dyed

blonde hair, the full body, the mischievous eyes, the slanted smile—that was Dawn.

Was she just making an observation? Was she implying that I lusted after her?

I didn’t have any more time to think about it. Someone was knocking on the shed

door! I stood, tucking my cock back in and zipping up, shoving the magazines back

under the pile of boards.

“David!” It was Dawn. Of course, who else? My parents wouldn’t be home for

hours—it was only ten in the morning.

“What?” I called, trying to sound impatient. I tucked my paper back under my

arm, grabbed a can of insect spray off the shelf and opened the door.

She was standing there in a white bikini, the flesh of her breasts spilling over the

top. My cock, with barely enough chance to wane as it was, jumped to life again at the

sight.

“Jesus, Dawn!” I made a face. “Put some clothes on.”

“It’s gonna be sunny and warm all day.” She put her hands on her hips and drew

my eyes there. “I’m spending my time catching rays!”

“Whatever.” I stepped out of the shed into the fresh air.

“What were you doing in there?” She smirked, peering into the dim shed.

74
 I waved the insect repellant at her. “Big-arse spider out on the patio table.”

“Sure there was.” She moved toward the lounge chair where she had spread a

towel. How long had she been out here, I wondered?

I put the can on the table. “There was. It’s obviously crawled off somewhere.

Maybe it’s on your lounge chair.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Quit being such a pain in the arse. I’m in a good

mood and you’re not going to spoil it.”

Dawn positioned her chair, looking up toward the sun as she did, and then

crawled on. Her bikini bottoms rode up between her cheeks and I flashed on the picture

in Naughty Bits that I’d found the writing on—her arse up in the air, cum sliding down

her slit. I sat down at the table, putting the paper in my lap to cover my erection.

“What’s got you so perky?” I scowled.

She was lying on her back, now, and she lifted her sunglasses to look at me. “It’s

my first day on holiday, you git! Two whole weeks off work!”

I turned my chair away from her, opening my paper back up. My cock was still

throbbing and watching her oil herself up out of the corner of my eye wasn’t helping.

She was slathering lotion all over, rubbing it into the creases, even between her toes. I

could smell the stuff, like coconuts, as if a tropical smell was supposed to make you turn

darker.

“You find anything in there yet?” She dropped the lotion next to her chair and

leaned back. Her breasts jiggled in the white bikini top when she did, and I couldn’t help

watching. Seeing real flesh move was different from looking at a picture in a magazine. I

75
found myself wondering what it would feel like to touch her there, just the top of her

breast, all shiny from the oil. I flushed.

“No.” I turned my eyes back to the paper. “There’s nothing out there.”

“Well, mum and dad won’t let you scrounge off them forever, you know.” She

threw an arm up over her head.

“Sod off!” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not the one who’s still living with my parents at

twenty-five.”

I stood up, deciding to go into the house. Maybe take another shower. I felt hot

and sweaty, although it wasn’t really that warm out here, yet.

“Hey.” Dawn lifted her sunglasses again. Her eyes were soft, and so was her

smile. “You wanna do something for me?”

“If it involves lotion and your back, forget it.” I reached for the back door. “I’m your

brother, remember?”

She stuck her tongue out. “If you’re going in the house… maybe you could bring

out one of dad’s bottles of wine?”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “The good stuff?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “Why not? Let’s celebrate my holiday…”

76
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And look for these other titles from Varian Krylov:

77
ABDUCTION
By Varian Krylov

For years, college student Devan Astor has penned erotic stories based on her
dark fantasies, but when she’s abducted, she is faced with the real terror of being
at the mercy of a cruel stranger. She flees, but in the remote cabin where she
takes refuge, will she encounter a danger even more frightening than the
kidnapper who is still hunting her? At the end of her ordeal, will she be left
scarred by the experiences that so closely match her own fantasies, or will she
discover fulfillment she never imagined?

Warnings: This title contains elements of non-consensual sex, anal sex and m/m sex.

78
AFTER
By Varian Krylov

THE APOCALYPSE: A chimera devastates the human population. Technology fails

AFTER: A generation apart, two women and the men who love them make incredible
sacrifices to survive, and to destroy a brutal system of sexual slavery in a world
where men outnumber women ten-to-one.

After two years roaming the devastated South alone, eighteen-year-old Eva is
captured and held prisoner by the few surviving soldiers at a military base, who
haven’t seen a woman since The Dying. In Eva, Major Smith sees only the future of
the human race, and he’ll exceed all moral boundaries to ensure she gives birth to
the next generation. But Eva and John—the man she is paired with—are determined
to fight for freedom and a better future.

Two decades later, on the other side of the country, a Resistance woman is captured
and brutally punished for subverting the Sex Laws. When she flees to the Resistance,
Nix must decide if the man who helped her escape can be trusted, or if he’s a spy
using her to infiltrate the counter-slavery movement. As Nix makes her way east, her
story twines with Eva’s in a way neither woman could have imagined.

Warning: This title contains elements of nonconsensual sex, anal sex, m/m sex and a m/m/f
threesome.

79
LORD MELCHIOR
By Varian Krylov

Long ago and far away, Lord Melchior ruled over his lands and his serfs with an
iron hand. Taken from their homes at the cusp of adolescence and brought up in
strict segregation, the boys and girls of his realm learned total obedience and
rigid chastity. But when naïve Zaccheus and Rasha were chosen to serve their
master in his castle, they soon discovered that one of Lord Melchior’s greatest
pleasures was forcing his innocent young servants to violate the very laws he
himself has imposed on them all their lives.

Warnings: This title contains elements of nonconsensual sex, anal and group sex.

80