a/n: serious incest warning right here. please don't read if you are easily offended or suspect you might be offended by the pairing. if you read this and are horrified by it then please don't whine about it because i did warn you.
jameslilyteddy, brilliant red
requested by matt-smiths
This is the story of a boy who loved a girl. The girl's name was Lily. She had brilliant red hair that looked a bit scarlet in the right light and soft white hands that flowed through soft white wrists into soft white arms. Her brother James was always a bit fascinated with the colour of her skin, with the almost translucent quality of it and the veins that webbed beneath it, blue and green and purple and so dark to lurk under the layers of paleness. He would spend hours in the middle of the night mapping the roads they ran and the highways they took from her feet to her heart and lose himself in the play of them at the top of her thighs and in the hollow behind her ear. He'd breathe over them and imagine them writhing like the snakes of her house as he pressed kisses staccato along them, teasing them closer to the surface. He would touch his fingers to her hairline and trace constellations there; press down gently on her closed eyelids until she complained the lights were too bright; dance his tongue along the curve of her lower lip until she opened her mouth and welcomed him home to rest.
They only ever came together when the rest of the house was sleeping and the night was black as pitch and James could hear his father snoring as he crept along the corridor towards her bedroom. She would be waiting, like always, and she'd pull him into the room and claim his mouth with hers, and James always felt a little bit sick with the horror of it - but, Lily and James, they belonged together. They would always belong together, in this lifetime or a past one or any future ones to come. He reasoned with himself and talked himself away from the reality of his sister's waist between his palms, and he'd number the piano keys of her ribs, tap, tap, tap, turn cartographer to decipher the pathways of her arteries and heat the slope of her ankle with his breath.
When they moved together in the darkness, James liked to pin her slim wrists with his hands and feel the pulse beating there, one-two, one-two, to watch her eyelids flutter shut and press kisses to them, to drop his head to the point where her neck met her shoulder and groan his feelings into the hollow there. In return she'd lock her thighs around him, raise angry purple marks on his neck, pant "fuck" until she couldn't bear it any more. When she made that special noise that James knew she was millimetres from oblivion, he'd kiss her the hardest possible, take the name she cried into his mouth to trip along his tongue and dance down his throat, swallowed and unheard.
Because he knew the name was "Teddy", not "James".