Author's Note: Looks like incest is back on the menu, boys. Thanks for your patience. I'll try not to get too distracted in the future.
--
"No shit?" Emma asked Mike, seated on the couch next to him.
"No shit. She's pregnant now," Mike admitted, with a hint of pride in his voice and on his face. He'd fully expected Emma to be jealous or upset over it, but she seemed, at least for the moment, incredulous. "I took a bunch of pictures of it." He took a moment to show her some of the ones he'd taken of Lucrezia using his cell phone, all in generally compromising positions, but most of them with a smile on her face or a look of pure lust. There were plenty of her in a number of different poses, mostly seductive, but a few were tasteful. If not for the lower quality of a cell phone camera, they could've been actual nude model pictures.
Emma leaned back as she watched him slide from picture to picture, sipping at her beer, mulling over the recent revelations of what had happened in her absence. "And at no point during that exchange at the pool did you think maybe you shouldn't fuck the baby-crazy rich model lady? That it might all come back on you in the distant or near future?"
"I, uh.." Mike paused his scrolling. His head tilted a little to one side, curious what she was going for. He couldn't deny that she had a point there, though. Once again, he'd let his small head do the thinking for him. So far it hadn't come back to haunt him, but now she was starting to make him second guess himself.
"And I mean, even if by some miracle her having your child doesn't come back on you, what if she had a disease?"
Luckily, he'd thought a step ahead, and gotten himself tested once everything was said and done, and he was clean. Case in point, he stood up and crossed the small living room to the little stand near his door, plucking an envelope off of it and tossing it at her. "Read 'em and weep."
She cocked an eyebrow as she caught the envelope, checked the contents quietly for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you got lucky there." She tossed away the envelope carelessly, as if doing so would help her seem like he hadn't at least gotten her there. "I admire that you're the sort of guy that goes for what he wants, little brother, but you really need to use the big head more than the little head."
"Did you use your head when you listened to Rachel telling you I had regular dreams about fucking you, came over here, and then actually let me fuck you?" Mike shot back at her, mild annoyance in his voice. "You didn't know if I had any diseases either, and shit, what if your IUD didn't work? I came inside you, what, six, seven times that weekend? You could've gotten pregnant a hundred times over."
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you throw this back on me, I can do whatever I want to do, and when I choose to do something, I know it's the right thing to do! I consider every decision I make carefully!"
"So can I!" Mike grumbled at her. "And that's bullshit, Emma, and you know it! Every man you've ever dated has dumped you, cheated on you, or used you." He ticked off a finger for each example he came up with. "Remember that Russian guy that you only knew for three months? The one that proposed to you and you accepted without hesitation? Where was the Emma that sits before me now, the one with a better head on her shoulders, master of her own fuckin' destiny, capable of making all the right decisions and never ever being wrong?"
"Fuck you." She mumbled, barely able to be heard over even the low drone of the TV behind him, looking away from him. Her brows were furrowed in something akin to anger, and she seemed equal parts infuriated and sad. "At least I've had people that care about me." She turned her gaze back to him. "All you do is fuck women and work in that dead end job! How many women actually give a shit about you, Mike? Huh? How many women genuinely love you? Shit, give me the name of even one person!"
That stung. He frowned, not just simply because she was right, but also because he had thought that she loved him, or at least cared about him. His own eyebrows furrowed now, and he struggled to find the words for a few moments. He was genuinely at a loss, not just on what to say, but also on how to feel.
"I thought you did, at the very least. That like, if no-one else in my life gave a shit, at least you did. Guess I was wrong." Mike didn't want to stay there anymore, at least, not while Emma was there. He didn't have anywhere he could immediately think to go, but that didn't stop him from grabbing his keys, throwing on his sandals, and turning to leave. "You can stay as long as you want." Worse than actually leaving Emma behind was the fact that she didn't even try to stop him. He climbed into his vehicle and drove. It was one of those kinds of drives where he felt like he was on auto-pilot while lost in thought, and he wasn't sure how long he'd driven before his thoughts caught up to him.
Mike had remembered that his parents still had their old childhood home that was left largely unused most of the time, a place he had the keys to. It wasn't a spectacularly large home, but it'd at least give him a place to stay for a while. Driving there took longer than he'd hoped it would, but soon, he pulled into the driveway and climbed out of his vehicle. It was exactly as he remembered it growing up: a one-story family home in a generally boring cul de sac, surrounded by similarly designed homes that were all almost indistinguishable from one another, besides the occasional negligible design difference on the outside.
His parent's summer home was painted a sunny kind of yellow, with the weird brown clay tiled rooftop, and the yard was neatly trimmed. No decorations could be found, and that was largely because of the HOA of the neighborhood demanding it, stifling any kind of creativity or originality that might set the homes apart. The only thing that stood out to him was an unfamiliar car he'd parked next to, and the lights on inside. As he approached the front door he dug through the keys on his keyring, mostly work keys. He figured maybe his parents had sold the home and simply not told him. The plan was to test the key in the lock and if it didn't work, he'd take off.
To his relief, the key slid right in and he unlocked the door, stepping inside. For the most part, the place was fully furnished, mostly old furniture his family had accumulated for the home as he was growing up, so anyone could live there if they wanted to. They certainly didn't, preferring more lavish homes with more luxurious amenities, of which they had several. One wasn't spectacularly far away, but was mostly used as a summer home. The other was in Florida not far from the hustle and bustle of Orlando and its theme parks.
"Oh, hey, didn't expect you here, Mike," came the familiar unenthusiastic voice of the woman that he knew as his little sister.
Michael was the middle of three children. Emma was, as you might have guessed, the eldest of the three. Michael came afterward, and Willow, whom he was staring down currently, was the youngest, at the age of 20 herself.
Willow was an interesting contrast to Emma. While Emma was a self-motivated, charismatic go-getter, Willow was apathetic and typically required a firm push to do anything that didn't interest her. Because she was the youngest, she often was the favored one despite this, being given advantages that the two of them hadn't gotten to enjoy. For example, Emma and Mike were both thrown out of the house at the age of 18 to fend for themselves. Willow was 20 and still living at home, with no end in sight.
The funniest part about it all was that Willow was the one that received the best genetics. Emma had a tomboyish attractiveness, and Mike was handsome enough by most conventional standards, but Willow had a fantastic body, with large, full breasts, a cute face, and thick thighs. While not a model by any standards, if she took better care of herself, she would have absolutely had been a model by now and doing well enough for herself, especially with their mother's connections.
Instead, Willow chose to stay put and pursue her hobbies, which was mostly playing and streaming video games. Because of her attractiveness and willingness to take advantage of her fans, she did well enough for herself, showered in cash whenever a need arose. And there was always a need. Certainly well enough to buy the new car in the driveway that he didn't recognize. Surprisingly, at the moment, she was just playing a video game on the enormous television in the living room, seated comfortably in one of those weird race car gaming seats. He didn't understand the appeal, but then again, he'd never sat in one either, so who was he to judge?
"Hey, Lo." Mike closed and locked the door behind him, kicking off his sandals near the door.
