Work Text:
Seven years. Seven, long, agonizing years.
Bruno was naked, sitting in his hammock, rubbing both arms as though hugging himself. The hammock he was in was old and worn and some of the strings looked like they would snap at any moment. He’d have to fix that. No one had thrown out an old hammock in a while, so if he lost this one he’d be stuck sleeping in his old red chair. Again.
Save for the hundreds, maybe thousands, of rats in his room he was completely alone. He hadn’t spoken to another human being since he escaped into the walls of La Casa Madrigal. The only friends he’d known were his rats. Other than them, he was completely alone.
It was easy to keep track of the years. It was on Mirabel's fifth birthday, after her failed gift ceremony, that he left. Every birthday celebration his niece enjoyed was another reminder of how long he'd been here. She was worth it, of course, but the agony of separation was too much sometimes.
It had been months since Mirabel’s twelfth birthday celebration. It was the beginning of August, and preparations were being made for Isabela’s birthday.
He squeezed himself in his pseudo-hug, rubbing his arms almost frantically. He went on to crack the knuckles of his hand, every finger, one after another, the satisfying pop giving him just a tiny bit of comfort. He wasn't sure why these things made him feel better, and half the time he didn't even know he was doing it, but it helped and that's all that mattered.
It was the dry season and sweltering hot. Part of him was grateful no one in the family knew he was here. No fear of anyone barging into his room was the reason he didn't bother putting clothes on. Yet, he'd happily wear hot, stifling clothing if it meant his family knew he still existed.
The cooler, wet months were far more bearable. His rats like to snuggle against him when it gets chilly. Sometimes he'd wake up to so many rats covering his body they resembled a warm, furry blanket. But no rats wanted to cuddle with him today. It was too hot.
Reaching over to a shelf on the wall, he dipped a piece of cloth into the cool water he’d set there earlier. Wringing out the excess water, he used the washcloth to wipe the sweat from his body, starting with his face, then moving onto his neck, armpits, arms, torso, and groin. The cool water and the removal of his sweat made him feel a little fresher and more comfortable, though he knew it wouldn’t last. Dipping the cloth in the water again and wringing it out, he set it aside to await another wipe-down.
He fell back onto the hammock, his head resting on a throw pillow and one leg hanging over the edge. The hammock swung back and forth, which would be relaxing at any other time. But, as exhausted as he was, he simply couldn’t sleep. The permanent, dark circles under his eyes were a testament to his restlessness and insomnia.
There was one thing he could do to help him relax and sleep, though.
Reaching over to the same shelf he picked up a book. It was his favorite romance novel, one he “borrowed” and never returned from the darkest, hidden recesses of the village library when he was a teen. His mother would be furious with him if she knew he had such a book. It was explicit, depraved, and scandalous. It was exactly what he needed right now.
On the surface it seemed innocent enough, the story of two teenage lovers destined for each other, but forced to hide their forbidden love from their family. Their shared family, as they were twins; a brother and a sister who shared far more than just the womb. It was the forbidden that made this story all the more titillating and, based on the excessive amount of sex in the book, it was meant to be.
Bruno had often wondered what drew him to this book and its scenes in particular. He, too, came from a multiple birth, with two sisters making them triplets. He’d never had such feelings for his triplet siblings, though, and the very thought made his stomach churn. But fictional twins in a salacious book didn’t garner the same reaction.
The novel was filled with several bookmarks, indicating all of his favorite, re-readable scenes. He skipped to the third tab in the book, which was his favorite; their first time. They had explored each other's bodies before, and done other things, but this was the moment when they consummated their love. It was this book, and others like it, that taught him what sex and sexuality were. He couldn’t be certain how accurate the book was, even now in his adult years, but he knew how to pleasure himself.
Holding the book with one hand he reached the other down to take hold of his cock. Turning his body to the side to make it easier to turn the pages, he began reading and stroking. It took longer for him to grow hard compared to when he was a teenager, but a few thrusts of his hand and a single turn of the page and he was there.
“His sister’s delicate lips were soft as rose petals and supple like freshly baked bread. She rested her body against his, molding to his nakedness like two puzzle pieces sliding into place.”
He massaged himself slowly, letting out a low breathy groan as he continued reading. He imagined himself as the brother, making love to his twin, his cock sliding into her wet, hot folds. Licking his lips he imagined what it would be like to kiss her as he pulled out of her, only to push in, slowly building a rhythm as he made love to her.
“Her body molded itself around his shaft, fitting itself to his manhood like it was tailored only for him. She let out a high-pitched gasp, clutching at his back as he settled himself into her womanly folds.”
Bruno pumped faster and his breathing quickened. He pictured the sister in his head, her dark brown curls that just brushed her shoulders, her wide, curvy body, and skin like rose gold. Her lips were full and dark from kissing, and she looked at him with large brown eyes through green-framed glasses–
He let out a gasp of surprise as he reached his climax unexpectedly, followed by a growl-like moan that was too loud in his ears. His seed splattered across the hammock and the book fell from his hand, dropping to the floor with a deafening thud. Only after his orgasm subsided did his body return control to him, and he curled up in a fetal position.
“What the hell,” he let out a panicked whisper. He lifted his hand, the one he’d used to stroke himself, and stared at the milky-white jizz covering them, stringing across his outstretched fingers. He’d seen his cum many times before, but now, at this moment, it brought him nothing but disgust.
It wasn’t the fictional twin sister that he imagined as he pleasured himself, but the very real Mirabel! It was only a flash in his mind, a split-second image, but it was her; his niece! And the sight of her was enough to–
“No, no, no!” He climbed out of his hammock, grabbed a nearby washcloth, and wiped his hand clean in desperation. He removed the cum from his leg and dick as well, scraping so hard it burned.
Jerking off did not bring the relief and relaxation it was supposed to. What the fuck! Why did the image of his niece, his teenage niece, suddenly pop into mind at that moment? Why? He wasn’t a pervert! He wasn’t a dirty old man! He wasn’t!
Was he?
He collapsed to the floor, cloth still clutched in his hands, and he hung his head in shame. This was the reason he was hiding in Casita’s walls, separating himself from the family. To protect them from his visions. To protect his niece from him and his grotesque thoughts about her. Thoughts he didn’t even know he had until that moment.
He hated being alone, hated being away from his family, but he hated hurting them even more. As hard as he tried, that’s all he could ever do. Hurt them. His visions only brought suffering to the people he cared about. His last vision, the one that prompted him to hide here, would have destroyed his poor niece if he’d shown it to them.
Mirabel. She was just barely starting to develop into a woman. Her curves were filling out, and the smallest bud of breasts were noticeable through her blouse. He even overheard her telling her mother, Bruno’s sister, that she had started her first bleeding not that long ago. He hadn’t thought about it much before, but it was all he could think about now.
Holding up his hand, he turned it over to look at it, front and back. It looked clean, but he knew it wasn’t. Bringing it up to his nose revealed that it still smelled and he let it drop in disgust. He was a sick, sick man. He was more of a danger to his beloved niece than he ever realized. Maybe he was finally losing his mind after all these years, his thoughts of her turning dark, sick, twisted, and dirty. In an instant, he’d crossed that line and there was no going back.
For the sake of his family, for everyone, and especially for Mirabel he would have to remain alone. Forever.