First I want to apologise for the delay on posting chapters for Nasty. I haven't quit my favourite story. As many of you must know, when I first posted it, it was supposed to be a one shot that got too long, but it was complete. Then the boys kept telling me their story and I kept on writing it. What happens is that my mind is a mess. I have way too many stories in it and sometimes, some characters go silent, some start talking. Nasty has at least four more chapters and the epilogue. The good news is, only chapter 13—the last before the epilogue—isn't finished yet. Some of the chapters are already pre-read and with one of my beta readers. Yes, I need more than one *shakes head*. Once I start posting again, the updates will be regular because everything will be ready.

Now... about "Lovin".

"Lovin" was a story that popped in my head once while watching a video. As usual, the theme is something hard to be dealt with. A friend of mine joked about it, asking me where I took these stories from. I had to think to answer her question. Well, I believe while trying to understand in what circumstances someone would do something others consider taboo, my imagination runs wild and the stories pour out of me. I have some others I will only post when I'm finished with them.

I'm finished with "Lovin".

Now the warning:

This story deals with incest between siblings. There will be mentions of past rape and child abuse. If you don't wish to read about any of it, please, don't do it then. As I'm sure you will not want to waste your time reading something you don't care about. I also don't want to waste my time reading reviews that comment on how deranged the story is.

I need to thank my Irish Sister, who betaed this story and who made me so enthusiastic about posting it.

Chapter 1


I was thirteen years old and had no idea what I was doing.

A lie.

That was just a lie—a BIG, FAT lie.

I was a horny teenager, a scrawny one, but I could hardly refrain from sticking my cock in some pussy whenever offered the chance.

Don't get me wrong, I would never do it unless the girl was willing and as horny as I was. I needed them to be as enthusiastic as me during sex.

I had a fairly big cock for my age—a fairly big cock for an adult for that matter—and older girls were always all over me, trying to get their fill of me.

Jenna was no different.

At nineteen, she never said "no" to me.

She was so beautiful! Her auburn hair, her big hazel eyes, her lithe body—so sensual.
I really could not understand why she didn't have a steady boyfriend.

Her family was amazing, her dad was the school football coach and her mom always won the pie contest at the city annual festival.

Well, we lived in a fairly small town—tiny really—close to the border with Canada, in the State of Washington called Twisp—population 907.

Coming and going to Canada was not a problem. That was where we went when we wanted to have some fun.

But to be with Jenna, I didn't have to go further then crossing my own front lawn—we were neighbours.

Her parents never thought I posed as a threat. I was the neighbours' kid, too young to make any damage.

Jenna was my favourite fuck. Besides being beautiful, she was sweet and had an incredible sense of humour. And in bed… she was just smouldering. She was always my first option when it came to fucking.

Too bad she was as hot for me as I was for her.

I couldn't really point out the countless times we ended up fucking without a condom. Our town had a single drug store. Condoms were not sold at the local supermarket.

We needed to go out of town to buy them unnoticed and sometimes we just… ran out.

One day Jenna simply vanished. Her mom said she went to live with an aunt in Seattle. The reason? Better schools and a more exciting life.

I was hurt.

I thought what we had was special. It was just sex, but good sex nonetheless.


Walking the streets of Seattle, years after having my heart broken by my sex-buddy, having decided to attend the UW, I saw her across the street, a few yards ahead of me.

I ran. I ran not really thinking what I was doing or what I would tell her once I'd reached her. I almost got myself run over by cars on the street as I crossed it, not really paying attention to traffic.

Jenna looked good. She seemed to be more mature and her eyes looked wiser. After a few minutes of conversation, I found out Jenna was married, was expecting a child, and was very happy with her life.
We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, but I never expected her to really ever call me.


That morning things went from cheerful to tense between us once her voice changed on the phone,

"Carl… There's something I wanna tell you. Something important."

"Sure. Let's meet up for coffee and you can—"

"No," she interrupted me, "I wanna do it over the phone. I really don't have the courage to tell you this, looking you in the eye."


My mind reeled with a thousand catastrophic possibilities.

"Okay, go on."

I held my breath preparing for whatever she was about to say.

I could have never been prepared for what she had to tell me, though.

"I didn't leave town to come to a better school as my parents said. I came over so I could have the child I was expecting." Her voice was trembling and I thought that maybe I had heard wrong.

"I'm sorry, what? What did you say?" I could have only heard wrong.

"I got pregnant, Carlisle. I got pregnant of your … well. I came down here to have the babies and put them up for adoption." Her voice turned from weak to determined and cold.

"Jenna! Jesus! Why didn't you tell me anything? How come didn't you come to me before deciding everything on your own?" I screamed at the phone.

"You were thirteen Carlisle! What could you have done? My parents didn't want to have to raise any more children. I was nineteen years old! I had a whole life to live! There was no other way out of it!"

"I can't believe it Jenna… I just can't. You gave away my babies and you never even bothered telling me you were pregnant!" I was revolted, mad as Hell at her!

"Well… now you know. Don't go looking for them. They must be with a nice family, happy, oblivious to the fact that their dad was just out of his diaper when he had gotten their mom pregnant."

That stung.

I had no idea how she could be happy, married and pregnant, never regretting her decision to give away her first born children.
It didn't matter.

All that mattered was I wanted to find them.

All she told me was that they were boys.

I couldn't live with myself knowing I had two sons somewhere that I hadn't even met.
I would find them. I would meet them, even if I had to hide who I was. I just needed to touch their skin and know they had a good life, know they were provided for.

When Jenna told me about them they were probably five years old by my counts, which made them fifteen by the time I finally had the first news about their probable location.

Who would have known it would take so long for me to find them. I spent years and loads of money on lawyers and private eyes, having too little information to work with.

Jenna didn't want me to find them. She refused giving us any information about the boys and said that if I insisted on starting a law suit demanding her to give me such information, she would just say they were not my children since I couldn't prove otherwise.

When we finally located them, I could hardly contain my revulsion―they had never been adopted—it was hard to find parents who would take twins, according to the institution's director. The ones willing to do it ended up bringing them back because it was just too much work.

Anthony and Edward were raised in a home for orphans almost their whole lives. It broke my heart to watch them from afar.

I had been searching for them for over ten years and they had been there the whole time—or so I thought.

They both had the same auburn hair their mother did, but their greenish blue eyes were mine. They were beautiful. They didn't resemble me at all—they were all Jenna. They were as tall as Jenna's brothers and father, and had the same slender constitution their mother had.

At first, I thought it would be fairly easy, after finding where they were, to just bring them home to live with me. I was thirty years old, almost finishing my surgical residency, completely capable of keeping a house and providing for my teenage sons.

But the process of fighting the state to prove I was their father was harder than I expected. Until I could prove they were mine, I wasn't allowed to have any contact with my boys―the whole too-long-lasting process, and the lack of permission to take the DNA tests were driving me insane.

They also wouldn't grant me access to their medical history or the files the social workers had with their history.

All I was allowed to do was to watch them from a distance as if I were someone who decided to visit the kids at the home.

Being a doctor made it easy for me to come there as many times as I wanted, having offered to check on the institution children for free.

The boys were a unit―always together, quiet, talking mainly to each other. They never approached me or tried to engage in conversation like the other kids would do.

The first opportunity I had to have any interaction with Anthony and Edward was when Edward fell ill and I was called in the middle of the night to see him.

I've always known twins held a connection that could never be found between regular siblings. But the intensity of their interaction had me worried.

Anthony was frantic. I didn't know who I tended to first. Edward unconscious, had a high fever and was hallucinating, lay on his bed. Anthony would not leave his side, or even let go of his hand, caressing his hair the whole time; his eyes red and flooding with unstoppable tears welling down his cheeks.

Anthony's desperation was heart wrenching. He whispered words like "Don't leave me", or "You're all I got" into Edward's ear the whole time I was examining Edward.

"Anthony, can you tell me if Edward had any other symptoms before the fever?" I asked him since Edward couldn't answer.

That question made Anthony change his demeanour completely. Letting go of Edward's hand and pursing his lips, he sniffed. When he found his voice and finally replied, he sounded guilty, as if confessing a crime. "He said… he said that it hurt when he peed."

"For how long?" I continued.

"Three days… maybe four." Anthony was way too self conscious and I couldn't find a reason why.

Edward probably had UTI—Urinary Tract Infection.

I needed Edward awake; I had to get a urine sample so as to prescribe the correct antibiotics. We needed to get the fever down so he would recover consciousness and I could ask him for the sample.

After slipping some pills into his mouth, we stripped him down to his boxers so his body would cool off, and waited.

Anthony, too wrapped up in his own fear of losing his brother, seemed to have forgotten I was still in the room with them. Their caretaker, Olivia, was out taking a look around to see if we had awakened any of the other children.

Anthony's hands were all over Edward. He caressed his brother's body tenderly, quietly, murmuring words into his ear, sometimes even brushing his lips on Edward's skin.

What would they think when they found out they were not alone in the world anymore? How would they feel to have me and Esme, my fiancée, in their lives too?

After almost an hour, the medication kicked in and Edward finally woke up; soon he needed to pee. I took the vial to collect his urine sample and helped him to the bathroom.
Anthony was always by him. As I steadied Edward up, Anthony held his penis and the vial so he could pee in it.

I called the analysis laboratory to send me someone to come pick the sample up, and when I went back to their bedroom, Edward was unconscious again. I tried taking his temperature with the digital temple thermometer but it wouldn't show the same temperature twice—according to it, Edward didn't even have a fever.

I needed to make sure what was going on with my boy. If he had no fever, there was something worse than a UTI going on with him for him to lose consciousness.

"Anthony, would you excuse me? I need to take Edward's temperature." I asked; my voice soft, hoping he would just hear me out and leave me alone with Edward without an argument.

I had no such luck.

"Why do I have to leave? Why can't I just stay here?" His eyes were pleading and I had to act professionally—he didn't know I was his father.

"I'll have to take a rectal temperature. I need to know what is causing Edward to lose consciousness. If he isn't running a really high fever, we need to take him to a hospital. The only way to know if he has it right now, is taking his temperature that way since the other thermometer isn't showing us anything."

"I won't leave. I can help!" Anthony said. I gave in and let him stay.

He helped me turning Edward to his side, and what I witnessed seconds later floored me.
I took the tube of lubricant and the thermometer from my bag and Anthony offered to help, pulling the tube from my hands.

Anthony pulled Edward's pants and briefs down, parted Edward's glutes and spread lubricant around his brother's anus. He also thrust a finger inside his brother carefully, stretching him.

None of that was needed. The thermometer was really thin and Edward wouldn't feel any pain, since it would be lubricated.

The ease Anthony accessed his brother's body so intimately made me shiver to my bones. His ease to touch his brother's penis in the bathroom hadn't gone unnoticed either, and putting the two together, I wondered what they must have gone through to end up being so… close.

I tried not to think about it since I had more important things to tend to.

It turned out Edward's fever was back full force. I couldn't waste any time waiting for the antibiogram to be ready, and decided to admit him to the hospital for an intravenous round of antibiotics.

Anthony wasn't allowed to be with his brother at the hospital.

Before leaving with their caretaker, Anthony made me promise no one would touch his brother. I tried reasoning with him, saying nurses would have to touch him to give medication and take care of him.

"I understand, just don't… don't let anyone… take his temperature that way, please." He changed his voice trying to be clearer about what he was asking.

"What if we have to?" I asked him weakly, looking through my lashes, suddenly ashamed of myself, I didn't know why.

"Then… then you do it," he finished pensively.

"Okay…" I answered him.

I didn't have to mention I sat by Edward all day and night, worrying and taking all the time I could to be by his side.

Once Edward woke up, I explained to him we were at the hospital, told him about his fever, told him the way the medication would work faster was through an IV.

Edward only nodded and asked me a few questions.

When I tried taking his temperature with the regular thermometer, it didn't work again, it felt like Edward's body hid his fever somehow. I had to explain to Edward what I would have to do: that I would slide the lubed thermometer through his rectum and leave it there for a while, taking it out once it beeped. I explained it wouldn't really hurt, but that he could experience some discomfort.

Edward blushed, but other than that, his reaction was regular.

He turned to his side, and I slid the thermometer inside him—he didn't even flinch.

When pulling the thermometer out, I leaned and took a look at his anal cavity. What I saw made me concerned―he was my son after all. There was scarred tissue there, probably caused by anal fissure.

Edward moaned a little, feeling my glove-clad fingers on the sensitive skin around his anus.

"Edward, I'm sorry, but I noticed something here and I need to examine you, okay?" I tried making him feel less uncomfortable under my touch.

"Okay," he breathed out.

"I need you to stay the way you are, lay on your left,t I need you to push your knees to your chest. Can you do that?" I instructed. He nodded and did as I said.

Before starting the exam, I applied some lube around his anus, making Edward shiver at the contact of his skin with the cold gel.

"This may feel a little uncomfortable, but I'll try to be really careful, okay? I need you to relax and take a deep breath."

I saw Edward nodding his head.

I touched the flesh around his anus before penetrating it with my finger. Edward gasped, maybe not really expecting me to do that.

As I rotated my finger 360 degrees and went even deeper a few times, I could notice the scared tissue was narrowing his canal considerably. I wondered what had given him such scars. The variety of circumstances which could have given him such scars made me burn in worry.

"Edward, I'm going to withdraw my finger now, okay?" Edward nodded.

"How often do you defecate?" I tried to sound professional and unaffected by the facts, as I checked my finger for any sign of blood. I was a mess and I needed to hide it from him.

"Hmm… twice, maybe three times a week."

"Does it hurt?" I asked removing my gloves.

Edward let out a sigh before answering, "Hum, hum."

The lump in my throat muted me.

"A doctor examined me once. He taught me to use lubricant so it doesn't hurt too much." He paused, but I couldn't find my voice just yet. I was in so much pain for my son that if felt almost physical.

I suspected Edward had anal stenosis. That meant that his anal canal became abnormally narrowed by the scarred tissue from anal fissure.

I needed him to be examined by a proctologist who could also ask for a colonoscopy to check if that was all he had.

"How long ago was that?" I finally relaxed to speak.

Edward took too long to answer me. It made my heart beat faster afraid of his answer.

"I was eight."

I didn't want to jump to conclusions but the thought of rape rushed into my head and I burned in agony, fury and pain. I felt a flush creeping up my neck to my face.

Edward was not facing me and, for that, I was thankful.

I took a deep breath and tried calming my heart thinking about possible treatments.

"I'm going to call a friend of mine down here to examine you, okay Edward? To tell us what would be best to diminish your discomfort while emptying your bowls."

Edward nodded but shifted uncomfortably. "Will he touch me, too?"

"I'm sorry Edward, but she will." Maybe knowing it was a woman, Edward would feel more comfortable.

I called Doctor Alice Brandon down to the E.R. to take a look at Edward.

My head was swimming in a haze of thoughts, feelings and unpleasant ideas, I felt like I was drowning.

Alice was one of my supervisors. She was not just that, really. She was also a friend who knew I had finally found my kids and was fighting to have them under my care as soon as possible.

I waited for her by the elevators, since she promised me to be down at the E.R in a few minutes.

As we walked together to the curtain Edward was behind, I let her know he was one of my kids, making sure she knew Edward wasn't aware of that fact yet.

I told her about my worries but she made me promise I wouldn't only consider rape as a reason for the fissure and consequent stenosis.

It broke my heart to have to wake Edward up once we were at his side―Dr. Brandon was already getting out of her way to come see him.

Again he had to pull his knees up against his chest and endure the petite doctor examining him.

"Edward, I don't think you'll need surgery to correct this," Dr. Brandon commented removing her gloves, "I think a dilator will do the trick."

She looked Edward in the eyes and I caught her glancing back at me―maybe looking for some resemblance.

Dr. Brandon explained how Edward should start the treatment with the dilator and I could see how hard it was for him to cope with the awkwardness of discussing the matter.

The dilator was supposed to be used twice a day. It should be immersed in warm water for fifteen minutes, and then covered by a layer of medicinal cream prior insertion. Once inserted slowly up to its base, it should be kept in position for three minutes and then pulled slowly out.

Edward should start treatment right away, while still in the hospital.


Edward was a quiet boy.

I would sit with him for the week he was there. I refused to leave his side. I asked for a leave, and having it granted was not hard since Edward was in the hospital I used to work.

I ordered the dilator prescribed by Dr. Brandon, and sat at the chair next to Edward watching him sleep.

When he woke up, he moistened his lips before asking, "Do you know about my brother? He's not used to being alone."

"I don't know how he is, Edward. I was too worried about you. How are you feeling?"

"I'd be better if I knew how Anthony is."

Walking up to him, I brushed his hair back in a carefree move and decision. Edward closed his eyes and I felt him shiver as his skin broke out in goose bumps. Edward let out a little moan and I could notice it was of pleasure.

I kept stroking his hair, caution be damned. I wasn't keeping the truth from him because I wanted to. I was doing it because I was not allowed to come clean and tell him how much I already loved him and his brother.

Edward fell asleep under my touch and I finally felt like a real father.

As he slept, I went outside and called the home to check on Anthony.

Olivia wasn't allowed to give me such information, but I could notice she was on my side and she ended up telling me Anthony was a wreck. He insisted on seeing his brother and would walk about his room non-stop.

When Edward woke up again, he asked me to go see Anthony, because he had a feeling he wasn't doing well by himself.

I wish I could be split in two: I didn't want to leave Edward, but I also needed to see Anthony.

I promised Edward that once he fell asleep again, I'd go.

After a few hours of silent company, Edward looked knackered when he asked, "Can you… can you do what you did before?"

"Are you sleepy, kiddo?" I asked him standing up, already aware of what he meant.

Edward nodded and closed his eyes as he felt my fingers brushing his hair. Soon he relaxed and fell asleep.

Arriving at the home, Olivia walked me to the boys' bedroom once more.

The other night I could hardly look around their room. This time I noticed the boys' things, pictures, clothes, carefully arranged in their small room.

Anthony jumped at me once he saw me at the door, "How is he? Is he gonna be okay? When is he coming back?"

His eyes looked haunted and his breathing was erratic.

"Calm down, okay? Would I be here if Edward was not feeling better?" I asked him, trying to soothe him with the sound of my voice. I wanted to pull him into my arms and rub his back calming him down.

I didn't have to.

Anthony held me tight with his long arms around my back, his fist grasping his forearm to pull me as close as he could.

"Ssshhhhh… It's okay, Ant… It's okay." Anthony wasn't crying, he wasn't making a scene, but I could feel how wired he was, dark circles tinted the skin around his eyes.

So it dawned on me―I was holding my son in my arms. I returned his embrace with the same force and intensity. When I felt him releasing me a little, I pulled Anthony to his bed.
"Lie down, Anthony. You need to rest. We can't afford to let you get sick right now." I mentioned.

Anthony lay down with his head on his pillow and I sat beside it, tentatively caressing his hair as I did with Edward. Soon Anthony's head was on my lap.

"I was afraid Edward had meningitis. A boy went to the hospital with that and never came back once," Anthony informed me.

"He has Urinary Tract Infection, Anthony, not meningitis. He'll come back safe and sound, okay?"

"Okay…" he said.

Since Anthony started conversing with me, I decided to ask my own questions. I tried sounding nonchalantly.

"Anthony, can you tell me what happened with Edward when you guys were little? Has he been in an accident or something?"

"Not that I remember… why?"

"Edward has a condition. He has a hard time going to the bathroom, right?" I felt Anthony tensing a little.

"You mean his ass is hurt?" he asked.

"Not really. His anus was hurt somehow in the past, and the scar is what makes it hard for him to go."

Anthony pulled back and sat with his arms around his legs, leaning his head on his knees.

"Hmm… Papa said it was an accident, whenever it happened," Anthony answered.

"Papa?" I enquired.

"Edward and I were almost adopted once. Maman was from Canada, Papa was from Monaco. I love him so much…" Anthony commented, trailing off.

"And what happened that your Papa said it was an accident?" My heart was racing and I could hardly keep it in its cage.

"Sometimes it bled… he was so sorry… he apologized, took care of us and took us to have ice cream or something else we chose."

Anthony seemed infantile. A sixteen year old would have snapped out of the spell cast on him by anyone who would have abused him. His demeanour was not of a sixteen year old at all.

"Tell me," I murmured.

"They say Papa raped us. But he never did, you know," he started, "Papa loved us. We were the ones to ask him to love on us."

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep the turmoil of feelings inside me from bursting out in a feral growl.

"Anthony, can you explain it to me a little better?" I whispered afraid to let what I was feeling show.

"Papa was very tender and caring. He always slept with us because we were always so afraid of the dark. He caressed us until we slept. He always confessed his love to us, you know. Sometimes he held us tight and kissed us. He always said that if you love someone you say it, you show them."

"Hmm…" was all I could muster.

"When we said we loved him, he asked us to show him. He had showed us how to kiss him with our lips and tongues to show him how much we loved him." Another long pause and Anthony surprisingly moved to sit on my lap and bury his face in my neck. I circled his body with my arm and moved his legs to my left.

"One night, I woke up and Papa had his hand in my boxers. It felt so good…"


"I told him it felt good and he promised to always do that for me. He caressed my balls, and my dick… my legs… My dick grew hard…it felt like an explosion sometimes, like… when I make milk now."


"It feels good talking to you about this…" he breathed against my shirt. My heart was the size of pebbles. I wouldn't know if I could endure much longer. I cursed Jenna for giving up on them and never telling me what she was about to do.

"Why, baby?" I murmured.

"Because you don't say what Papa did was wrong. You let me tell you and… and you don't interrupt me saying he was a monster who took advantage of us…"

"I wanna listen to you. I won't say anything mean about Papa, I promise," I spoke rubbing circles on Anthony's back.

I could see Anthony had some sort of developmental issue.

"Papa and Maman showed their love different. Edward and I would watch them. Papa entered Maman's body with his penis. We liked watching. My penis got hard when I watched them. One day we asked him how come he never loved us like that and he said only when we were older he could do it."

"Really? Older?"

"Yeah… he said we squirmed too much and he was afraid to hurt us. So we promised we would stand really still for him to love on us like he loved on Maman."

I felt sick.

I understood Anthony's mental development delay would cause him to really believe his adopted father. But Edward?

"Did Edward want Papa to love on him like that too?"

"Yes, very much… Papa tried once but his penis didn't fit in Edward. So he knelt between his legs and put Edward's cock and balls in his mouth. So he loved on Edward with his fingers"

"Anthony… Aren't you tired?" I had to interrupt. I couldn't listen any more.

It was not that I didn't want to know what happened with my sons, but listening to Anthony describing everything so innocently as he did was way past daunting.

Anthony hummed his confirmation.

He lay next to me and I caressed his hair until he fell asleep. I watched him sleep for a while, thinking so much could have been avoided if I had found them sooner or if Jenna hadn't been so stupid and had told me about her pregnancy.

My parents would never have abandoned their grandchildren like that.

I was an only son and they had always wanted more children, but mom had her uterus removed due to varicose veins that enlarged her organ, causing her to bleed excessively during her period to the point of extreme anaemia.

I'm sure they would have been more than happy to help me raise my sons.

Leaving a note to Anthony―letting him know I'd be back the next day―I left him while he was still asleep.

It was amazing how much I already loved both of them. It felt like my whole body knew they were mine and craved proximity.

On my way out, I took advantage of the fondness Olivia had started having for me. As she walked me out, I dug for information about my sons' abusive adoptive father.

"I need to know, Olivia, please. You know they're mine and if they're not, I'm gonna adopt them anyway," I let her know. "Anthony held me today and all I wanted was to have him in

my arms forever, to protect him, to care for him. Olivia, I need to know!"

"Okay…" She gave in. Pulling a lot of air in, she started, "Jean Claude, was not really the adoptive father―his wife was their legal guardian. She was the one who was to adopt them. She lived with Jean Claude who eventually posed as the father, but his name was never on the papers.

"Jean Claude didn't look like a bad man, you know. I was here when they started coming for the visits and eventually took the boys home for the weekend. When they could finally take the boys home, Tania had been exhausted because of their little girl."

"They had a child?" I was surprised. Anthony had never mentioned another child.

"Yes, a little girl. The boys had accompanied her whole pregnancy. They went to visit her in the hospital; they were excited to be around the baby." She paused. Her olive green eyes were contemplative, taking in the beautiful view of the surroundings of the front yard.
"They really seemed to make an incredible family. One would never imagine what really happened in their house." Olivia seemed to need some time to recuperate from the unpleasant feelings that remembering their story had caused her.

"The whole process started when they were five, but they only went to their house two years later. Edward and Anthony had been rejected so many times we had to be careful. We don't know how long it took for Jean Claude to get… physical with them. They were young and couldn't point that out. We only found out about it, because Tania found out he was sort of touching the baby girl too. She freaked out, called the police and had him arrested.

"The boys were devastated. Tania had to be admitted to a clinic and her mother came over to be with the baby. The boys were brought back by the State of Washington. Only when the psychologists were called to help with the boys, we found out he also touched them."

"Anthony told me, you know… I mean... what happened." I sighed, completely forlorn.

"Why?" she asked intrigued.

"Edward has scars. I asked and he told me almost everything," I said stopping at my car door. I was exhausted of being angry, hurt. "Anthony is different. He doesn't seem to have developed beyond his eight or nine years of age."

"I know. He's very affectionate and protective of Edward. I'm not a specialist, but I've lived with the boys since they were two, when I started working here. Anthony was never like Edward. He was always more childish and everything happened later in terms of development; his speech, learning to read and write. He's really good at maths, though. He's incredible at that."

"So… it wasn't the trauma." I commented.

"Only if by trauma you mean Jean Claude vanishing from his life. He still thinks all he did was out of love. And you know what? Even in his twisted way, the man really loved them. He writes to them until today. We never give them the letters, never gave any of them to the boys. We burn them so they'll never know they ever existed. But I opened and read them first. He promises he'll send them tickets to bring them to Monaco, saying he'll never forget them and will always love them. He sends them gifts and many pictures of him and his daughter."

My stomach churned. I didn't want to know what might be happening between him and his daughter.

"He has been deported from the United States for some other reason I don't know. But he has been reported as a child molester so he'll never get to come back. The immigration officers told us."

"Holy hell," was all I could muster.

"Do you really love the boys as sons already?" she turned to me to ask. I nodded, feeling my chest swell with emotion. My eyes filled with water and I had trouble speaking for a while.

Olivia held me in her arms and patted my back in sympathy.

"You should have tried to adopt them instead of trying to prove they are yours, you know. They'd be with you by now."

Olivia was a genius! How come I never thought of that?

I called my lawyer as soon as I entered the car and asked him to just fucking solve the adoption for me. I wanted my kids with me as fast as I could have them.

"How come you never thought that it would be faster to just adopt them, Lewis?" I asked almost outraged.

"I thought you wanted to know if they are yours first, Carlisle." Remembering now, I really did want that.

"I don't care anymore. How fast can you work the adoption papers and all?" I asked hurriedly.

"They are teenagers. It'll probably be fast," Lewis mused.

"How fast?"

"I'll check and call you back."


I arrived at the hospital and before I could reach the nurse's station I went to the administration office and asked them to move Edward to a room where we could be alone and he could watch TV and not get bored to death.

Approaching him with the news of the change in location, I also showed him the dilator had arrived.

"Why are they moving me?" he enquired.

"Because I asked them to."

"Who's gonna pay for this?"

"I will."

Edward didn't ask me why, not just yet.

As we rolled him upstairs on the gurney, Edward's eyes searched for me all the way there. I helped moving him to his bed and as soon as the nurses left, he commented, "This place must cost a fortune."

I couldn't refrain from blurting out all that had been inside me. I needed them to want me otherwise there would be no adoption. I would have to wait God knows how long to have them with me, and even then, they could refuse living with me.

"Edward, I have something to tell you. Something important." I held his hand tight in mine and he held my hand too.

"I was forbidden to tell you this by law, but… I won't pretend anymore."

Edward kept his silence, only darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

"A girlfriend of mine once vanished from the small town we lived in. Six years later she said she had my kids and that she had given them up for adoption."

His eyes went wide and his lips parted a little, probably doing the math already.

"The babies are you and Anthony, and I've been fighting to prove you're mine for a while now, but the whole process has been a nightmare and it forbade me to tell you guys anything until we knew for sure."

"But… but you look too young to be our father," he mused.

"I was thirteen when I got her pregnant, Edward. She was nineteen and thought the same thing: I was too young to play the father role, so she didn't even bother telling me about it."


"I've been looking for the two of you since you were five. Only now I found you."

"You've been coming to the home a lot," he commented.

"Yes. Yes, I have. I wanted to be close to you, to get to know you and let you know me too. I offered to work for the home so I could come over more often and see you."

Edward's eyes filled with water, mirroring mine. I knelt by the bed, leaning closer to his face as I ran my hand through his hair and went on.

"This is the first time I can really spend time with you two, after all these months."
"We keep it to ourselves most of the time. Anthony is… slow. People tend to be mean to him, make fun of him. I hate it."

"You love him very much, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Won't you be in trouble for telling me all this?" Edward's eyes snapped opened to stare at my face.

"I've changed my strategy. I'm going to try to adopt you. It'll be faster. This has been taking too long."

Edward's hand squeezed mine as his eyes looked so hopeful my heart melted.
"Well… first you guys need to get to know me and decide if being adopted by me is something you want."

Silent settled in and all we could hear was the faint noise from the TV.
Edward still held my hand. Maybe that was a good sign.

"You won't want us after you know the things we have been through, Dr. Cullen." I heard

Edward mutter as he let go of my hand.

"I already know some… and it doesn't matter," I responded.

"Anthony told you?" he looked up to my face.

"He did. About your Papa." I held his hand back in mine.

"Were you mad?"

"Edward. I understand how you two, at the age of seven or eight thought what he was doing to you was connected to feelings of love. But by now, you should know it was highly inappropriate."

Edward freed his hand from mine and I tried gauging his reaction.

"It felt good and we never did anything we didn't want to. It was consensual."

"You were eight."

"It doesn't matter, we were loved. He'd do anything for us." Edward was enraged.

"Okay." I surrendered.

"If you insist on telling us what Papa did was wrong, then we won't want you to be our father, or adopt us. We'll stay at the home until we're eighteen and then go our own way. Papa loved us. And when you love someone you tell them, you show them."

"Papa's" words rolling down in a conversation for the second time that day.

"Has he ever hurt Anthony as he did you?" I asked sternly. I needed to know.

"No. Never," he spat back.

"How come?"

Edward let out a sigh, huffed, and annoyed he went on, "Anthony liked it nice and slow… I liked it fast and hard. Sometimes it hurt 'cause I wouldn't stay still." He paused for a few seconds and moved on, "I show my love for Anthony… he loves on me, too."

"I know…" I admitted.

"I won't stop loving on him, Dr. Cullen. He needs it. He needs to be touched, he needs to be reminded all the time that he's not alone and that I love him."

I only nodded.

"Once they found out we did that, they sent me away. I was in a foster home for a month. Anthony only drank water the whole time. He stopped eating, talking, and the psychologists who treated us decided I should move back in before Anthony did something stupid of fell sick."


"He was skin and bones the day I came back."

So it had been worked on. Their relationship was known and they had tried to prevent them from having intimate contact, but even the psychologists gave up trying.

I'd have to learn to live with that.