Hmm.. So basically, throughout the course of thinking about Let Me Help You and writing it, I realized at some point how many actual choices I actually had to make in writing that story and making it what it is right now. Afterall, it was (and still is, being ongoing..) my first story, and I sort of couldn't grasp all the possibilities of what may happen to put into a tangible.. er.. thing. Anywho. So.. There were like a bazillion ways that the whole concept (e.g. Max + Fang not knowing what puberty is) could've gone.

This is one. Remember though, it never happened.

This redirect in particular, is what I would've written in the particular case that: Max continued on 'helping' Fang, not knowing what it is that she was doing, and they eventually just have sex, just by instinct. Later on they'd find out what it is sex is. However, they don't fully understand the implications of it, and continue doing it.

This is a little scene I had had in mind in that possible route. So if the story had gone that way.. this would've been a scene in it.

Mind you, this never happened, cause I tried to have some semblance of rationality in the story.. Anywho.. read, and enjoy? ;]


"Ugh, Fang," Max breathed quietly. She felt sweat on the inside of her neck, as Fang pushed in from her from behind.

"Be quiet, Max," he slowly uttered out, between heavy breaths and dark groans.

In, out.



Fang's penis slid in and out of her smoothly, from behind. She couldn't see anything behind her, and couldn't feel anything but the feeling of Fang's penis going in, and out of her. When would he stop? When would they finally reach.. there..

"Max, Can I come in?" a delicate voice asked through the door. There was slight knocking on the door. It was Angel.

"Shit," Fang breathed slowly, his breathing heavy. He slipped out of me quickly, and then fell over onto my other side, falling off the side of my bed and quickly rolling beneath it. He couldn't let her see him like that, sweaty, hard, on top of me in my room. I thought about myself, my breasts hanging freely, completely unclothed. I was clad in my birthday suit. I was also kneeling on all fours, my butt still poised up, as if Fang was about to insert into me any second.

"One second, honey," I called out, "I'm changing," I said, removing myself from the position. Crap, this was Angel. She would know.. unless she was delightfully listening to me for once, and keeping her mind closed.

"Okay, Max," she called out, well, angelically. It made me feel all the worse for lying, and all the more guilty for what we were doing.

Suddenly, rapidly, incredibly, sex seemed like such a dirty thing. Afterall.. all it was for.. was for pleasure.

Sheer, utter, complete.. pleasure. It wasn't even necessary, it was a want, a need. It was to satiate our lust and our hormones.. Fang's thick, throbbing penis, probing into my wet, and ready vagina.

That was all it was: dirty, lust-driven, sex.

Angel came and left. I laid back on the bed after a while, watching her leave and shut the door behind her, relieved. I heard Fang roll out from underneath the bed and sigh deeply before getting up on the bed behind me again.

I was lying down now, turned to the side. Fang was beside me, behind me, lying down too. He was completely naked. His hand gently cupped my waist, and then slid them down to my hips. His lithe fingers slowly dragged the t-shirt up as he ran his hand over and up my curves again, and I limply lifted my arms up as he lifted the shirt off.

It was quiet.

He slowly and gently unhooked my bra, then slid the straps down, uncupping them from my breasts. He accommodated everything around me, gently sliding his hands beneath the bed to cup my other hip as he undid the button on my jeans. It was when he had began to slide them off me and only gotten a few inches down, that he suddenly stopped.

He had realized how still I had been the entire time.

The whole time, I had been silent and complacent, while he had been busy returning me to the state of undress that I had been in before Angel came in. He hadn't gotten satisfied then. I had been letting him play with me, do whatever he wanted, undress me, but thats all.. I had been letting him do it, rather disinterested myself. I had been turned away, faced in the other direction, my back to him, as he had been slowly, gently, and lightly stripping my clothes off me. He stopped once he had noticed this, while slipping my jeans off. He stopped once he got two inches down my thighs. He took his hands off his skin and brought them back to himself, his scathingly unclothed figure lying on the bed beside me. He was waiting for me to explain.

I was still turned on my side, facing the opposite direction. He took his hands off me.

"Why do we have sex..?" I asked into the darkness, to him.

"What?" he asked monotonously into the dark after a while, his voice cutting the silence, like a knife.

Somehow, his voice scared me. It was unnerving. I wondered what I had wanted to say. He wondered what I wanted to say.

"This." I said, going off on a whim, and stressing what we were doing now. I kicked my jeans off now, in agitation, having had them half way down my legs, before Fang had left them to the side, noticing my stillness. Now, all I had on was a pair of underwear, light green.

I turned over from the side to face up, lying directly on the bed on my back. I faced up into the ceiling.. just waiting.

Why did we do it? Why did we have sex? Afterall, we did. We had sex. That was a statement, an infinate one. Not that we had had it once, but we had it—in general. We had sex. Every nook and cranny under which we live, we've had under it before. We weren't sex-crazed animals or anything.. its just that we had it, in general. We did it frequently. We have sex. It.. it was fact. Fang and I.. have sex.. This was.. no new development. It was something old. We have sex. We just have it.

I felt Fang turn on his side too, facing me now. His left arm swung over himself to reach my left breast. He massaged it softly and thoroughly, flicking the nipple on top thoughtfully. I remembered the first time he had ever done so. 'You like it, don't you?' he had said to me. I had blushed thoroughly.

Now, I just continued staring straight ahead, to the end of the bed, feeling Fang's fingers on me. I stared past the bedpost, to the door through which Angel had come in, the same one she had left out of.

Fang tweaked and played with my nipple carefully. I didn't even blush. It felt good, and I knew it.

He knew I knew.

"Why do we do this?" I asked him again thoroughly. Quieter, this time, though. I reached down to place a finger on the tip end of his hardening penis, curiously. He continued playing with my nipple. He was deep in thought.

At the question, he had slid his hand down to rest ontop of my flat belly, just as my hand had started pressing into the tip of his penis. He had instinctively jerked slightly at the rigid contact, but then calmed down again, as I started massaging the head.

"Why do we do it..?" he repeated silently after me, as if asking himself the same question, he felt me massage him. He groaned slightly, feeling me rub him harder. I let go of him suddenly and turned on my side again, giving him my back, suddenly. I wanted him to focus, cause I wanted the answer.

Why did we do it? It was so heated, it was so intense, it was so ferocious. It was sticky, and sick, and stomach-hurdling, mind-blowing. It was so freaking heated. We did it so often, and every chance we got, away from the flock, secluded in our little worlds, just breathing deep into eachother. Our eyes closed in ecstasy, our hearts pounding deep as we would slide against eachother thoroughly, my nipples quivering as he would reach down and rub a spot on me, below me, that would make me see lights. He knew it all. Thrusting in and out, we would groan. Rubbing against eachother.. thats.. what we liked. The feeling. We did it like animals. Like instinct.

Thats what it was on--instinct. But I wanted an answer.

"Why do we do it?" I asked again.

"We do it because it feels good," Fang whispered out to me, in my ear. I suddenly felt his hand snake over my side onto my waist. He pushed himself forward against me, so that my back lay against his chest now. I could feel his hard, impatient penis, nudge my buttcheek, as he leaned closer into me.

"We do it because we like to. We do it because we need to," he suddenly said to me.


I felt his loving grip on my tummy loosen, as he just gripped it loosely now. His eyes had closed, and his breathing grew deeper. He was moving behind me, on the bed behind me. He was passionately, loosely gripping me, rubbing himself against me. His penis lay behind me, rubbing up and down, as his eyes closed, on my skin.

His breathing deepened and his grip suddenly tightened on me. His neck suddenly jerked down to dig his face into the crook of my neck now. For some reason now, my breathing quickened too, as I felt him move against me. His penis was rubbing up against me, he held the swell of my lower back, gently carressing my butt cheek, even daring to run up and down the line of seperation between the two. He was breathing deeply, very deeply, and his eyes were closed tightly, as all he focused on was getting rid of the ache, the itch. He rubbed against me passionately, now holding me tightly against him, right under my breasts, pushing them up on my chest. I was held tight against him.

Like a dog humping on a pole, thats what he was doing to me—wrought by ecstasy, and wrought by need. He suddenly lifted his hand a few inches from the tighthold to grab my breast and squeeze hard. He was close, I could tell, at his pace. I screamed at the sudden impact of his hand squeezing me, but it feeling good right now.

"You make me hard," he growled into my ear tightly and anguishedly, "thats why we do it."

"You make me hard, and I want to touch you so bad," he continued, now moving up to twist my nipple in between his fingers. He was still pushing against me, rythmically, rubbing up and down. Like a desperate toad on the back of some other frog, he was holding me, and humping up and down on my behind.

"--that its like a need. Cause.. cause every time I used to think about you, my penis got all hard, and I—I couldn't help it, I just needed you near me, bad. And it felt good."

He came. All over my back, and breathing hoarsely. He finally let go of my chest and laid back on the bed, his chest heaving up and down, and semen spread over some of his thighs. He looked up at the ceiling, still breathing deeply.

I was breathing deeply too, but I wasn't quite sure why. I could still feel his handprint, squeezing roughly on my left boob with his right hand twisted under and around me. I leaned back to face forward too, feeling all the semen spread over my butt and my back squishing and melting below me, behind me. I rubbed it on the sheets up and down below me.

"Why do we have sex, Max?" he repeated himself quietly, seeming calm down now.

"Why do we have sex, Max?" he seemed to actually ask now. I opened my mouth but nothing came out, before he cut me off.

"Because I get hard thinking of you, and have to. Because I like feeling your chest, and your butt, and your waist, and your hips," he said breathlessly.

"Because I love touching you, and I can't help it. Because I love seeing your chest jiggle in front of me," he said strangely, "because I like the sounds you make when you're underneath me, and I love it when I know you want me."

"Because all those things, make me hard as heck, and make it feel good." He finally finished. Then he turned to me, turning on his side, and trying to look me in the eye.

"Now. Why do you have sex?"

It was quiet for a moment. I soaked in the info.

His answer.. it was not what I was looking for. Obviously, he had just considered this question to be one of those things he had just needed to get done--like reassure me, or give me a boost of self-esteem or confidence or something. A little reminder, or something. But thats not what I was looking for. The big monologue was a pleasant surprise, and his confessions had surprised me, but it still wasn't what I was looking for.

My question was entirely different. I took a deep breath and mulled it over, wondering how to explain to him what I was asking. His eyebrows furrowed from beside me, as he looked down on me, observing my delicately concentrating face.

I took a moment before I spoke.

"I dunno. It feels.. sort of dirty," I said after a while, sending him a shifty glance, "It.. it feels so good.. but somehow, it sort of feels dirty." Fang looked at me worriedly for a second.

"How?" he suddenly asked gently, his hands lifting up to caress my waist gently. His voice was very soft and quiet now. He looked quite concerned, worried. I took a deep breath, and sighed.

"Like.. like when you pump in and out of me.. It.. it feels good, but it almost feels.. dirty, and gross.. like we shouldn't be doing something like that." Fang looked alarmed and suddenly doubtful all of a sudden.

"No--no.. Its not because of you. It was all my idea in the first place," I reminded him urgently, yet carefully, "Remember?"

Afterall. I had been the one to suggest sticking his penis in my vagina, to make him feel better. It was only later we'd figured out what "feeling better" really meant, was orgasm.

"Its just that.. Angel came in.. and then, I just got reminded.. by all this," I explained myself softly, looking away from him, "She doesn't know what any of this feels like.. yet we do it. We do it a lot, because we want it."

I twiddled my fingers around a little edge of bedsheet on the corner, still faced and looking away from him, as I spoke, "Its almost intoxicating, and its just.. pure desire, pure want, and we keep doing it, because we keep liking it or not. And Angel and the kids... don't know a thing about this stuff, or the feelings you and I go through in the nights.."

"We want to reach that feeling, like you just did," I embellished at the end. Fang stilled for a moment, thinking about it. He seemed less altogether regretful now, but more concerned, about me. Almost as if he had just suddenly figured out what it was that I was despairing over this whole time.

"But its different Max.. its more than just want," he suddenly said softly.

"Its about sharing too.. and, and giving." he finished abruptly, as if it had just simply occured to him, and was now simply finite.

"What?" I asked him confusedly.

"Its about giving, and sharing something, Max," he repeated again patiently. He brought his closer hand up around me, and stroked his fingers through the hair, getting some tangles out as he waited for me to think.

I lay there, thinking about it for a moment, Fang's other hand still lying gently ontop of my stomach, rubbing back and forth gently and he watched me think about it.

We were still naked, ready for sex on the bed, but not having it.

"I get what we're giving.. thats why it feels good together, but what're we sharing?" I asked him.

The atmosphere was still for a silent second right then. Fang's expression suddenly changed then.

"Ask yourself that," he said, sounding rather agitated, and getting up from the bed.

Standing up in front of it, the crinkled white sheets on top, he suddenly turned around to face me. Grabbing my neck, he pulled me up against him harshly, kissing me, hard. It was as if he was trying to ground something hard, deep within my skull.

"Ask yourself that," he repeatedly softly again, his eyes now flaming in anger and disbelief.

He threw on his jeans and picking up his shirt from the floor, put it on. He then quietly walked away from the bed and me, closing the door behind him.

My question had made him angry, but I didn't know why. What are we sharing?


Ooh, I'm gettin' corny on ya' aren't i? ;]

I've got like 4 or 5 of these little spin-offs, but I'm not sure if I'll post them up. Like this one, they're all half-patched, mediocre, corny, and/or nonsensical e.g. mushy-gushy/OOC.

Hm. Woah. Okay. Anywho.