Both of Them

The house was empty until Friday. Their parents had gone to the coast for a long weekend and left the three of them with a list of things not to do and a fridge full of food they would not eat and a note that said “behave” in their mother’s handwriting. Jenna had planned to stay in her room with her headphones on. Tyler and Cole had planned to play video games and order pizza and not talk to her. None of those plans survived the first night. It felt like the danger of ordinary domestic moments.

It started with a movie. Jenna on the couch in an old T-shirt and underwear, Tyler on the floor with his back against the cushions, Cole in the armchair with a beer. Someone paused the film to get another round. When they came back Jenna’s legs were stretched across the cushions and the hem of the T-shirt had ridden up high enough that the edge of her underwear was visible. Tyler looked. Cole looked. Jenna did not pull it down. The pause screen glowed blue across all three of them.

“You two are staring,” she said.

“You’re not covering up,” Tyler answered. He was the older one by eleven months. Cole was quieter. Both of them had been careful around her for years.

She shrugged. The movement made the T-shirt ride higher. Cole set his beer down. Tyler stood. Neither of them asked. She did not tell them to stop. Tyler knelt between her legs and pulled the underwear aside. She was already wet. He could see it. He licked her once, slow, from the bottom of her cunt to her clit, then again. She made a sound and opened her thighs wider. Cole watched for a minute, hand resting on his own cock through his sweats, then stood, pushed the sweats down, and stroked himself while his brother ate their stepsister out on the couch their parents had bought last Christmas.

When Tyler pushed two fingers into her she came, hips lifting off the cushion, one hand in his hair, the other gripping the arm of the couch. He kept going until she pushed him away, oversensitive. Cole took his place. He fucked her with his fingers while Tyler stood and fed her his cock. She sucked him the way she had sucked her boyfriend in high school—messy, deep, one hand on his thigh, spit running down her chin—while Cole worked her open with three fingers and his thumb on her clit. When Cole replaced his fingers with his cock she moaned around Tyler and came again, the sound muffled, her whole body shaking.

They moved to the floor because the couch was too narrow for what they wanted. Jenna on her hands and knees on the rug. Cole behind her, fucking her in long strokes, hands on her hips. Tyler in front of her, cock in her mouth, one hand in her hair. They switched without talking about it. Tyler fucked her while Cole came down her throat in thick pulses she swallowed. Then Cole fucked her again while Tyler came on her back, stripes across her skin that he rubbed in with his palm. She came a third time with both of them inside her—one in her cunt, one in her mouth—and the sound she made was loud enough that the neighbor’s dog started barking and kept barking for five minutes.

They did not stop at one night. Saturday morning she woke up with Cole’s cock already inside her and Tyler’s hand between her legs, two fingers working her clit while his brother fucked her slow and deep. They fucked her in the shower until the hot water ran out and the mirror was completely fogged. They fucked her on the kitchen counter while the coffee maker gurgled and the list of things not to do stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a pineapple. On Sunday she rode Cole on the living-room floor while Tyler fucked her ass, slow at first, lots of lube, then harder when she told him she could take it and pushed back onto him. She came with both of them buried in her and their names in her mouth and her nails leaving marks on Cole’s chest. It felt like what happened in the laundry room.

When their parents came home on Monday the house was clean. The sheets were in the wash. Jenna’s door was closed. Tyler and Cole were on the couch playing the same game they had been playing on Friday, controllers in their hands, faces blank. No one mentioned the marks on Jenna’s hips or the way she walked a little carefully when she came downstairs for coffee or the fact that the three of them had not looked at each other once since the car pulled into the driveway. The list was still on the fridge. Someone had crossed out “no parties” and written, in Jenna’s handwriting, “too late.” Underneath it, in smaller letters, she had added “don’t ask.” On Tuesday night, after their parents had gone to bed, she texted both of them the same message: door’s open. They came one after the other. Tyler first. He fucked her slow and quiet on her side while Cole waited in the hallway. Then Cole took his place and fucked her harder, one hand over her mouth, until she came and he followed her. They left before dawn. In the morning she found a note under her door in Tyler’s handwriting that just said “again.” She kept it.