Sweetly

Words like "slut," "whore," "bitch," and various combinations of them echoed in a part of his brain, but Kurt surprised himself by blinking them away. He stared down at his cousin, with rich oak-colored hair and inviting lips, sun-kissed skin and bountiful body, fiercely intelligent and relentlessly herself, and only one word came to his mind. The only word that could possibly describe her.

"Beautiful." His eyes remained dark, but his voice projected warmth. Heather just grinned.

"I don't think that's a word you're supposed to use with your cousin."

"I really don't care what people are supposed to do right now," Kurt laughed. "You're beautiful, Heather, you always have been to me."

She traced the line of his jaw, examining the **** passion across his face. He wasn't lying, and Heather was pretty sure it wasn't... whatever was affecting them right now. Kurt had felt this way for a long, long time, and it only took a little lowering of their inhibitions to reveal it.

"Oh Kurt dear," she sighed. "You could've told me before, it would've been alright."

"Yeah, and risk biblical retribution from our mothers." Mentally, he backed away from her, eliciting a disappointed squeal in her throat. "There's no way..."

"But here we are now." Though she loathed to even have a temporary interruption in their contact, she gently pushed him upward, just far enough away so she could wriggle free from her dress. In another motion, one Kurt couldn't quite comprehend to Heather's delight, her panties vanished, discarded in the pile with her dress. Two clunks on the carpet signaled the removal of her shoes, slipping those toned legs past his hardened form with that trademark grin of hers.

"God. Damn," Kurt breathed.

"Come now, your turn," she replied as her arms disappeared from his view. Another motion later, again to Kurt's bewilderment, his pants came lose and now lay about his knees. Not arguing, he cast his shirt into the growing pile while his pants marched the rest of the away off of his feet.

Then Heather tugged his boxers out of the away. Staring into his eyes, she gasped as if he entered her.

"Ah shit," Kurt almost whimpered as the vortex of Heather's hand encircled him. "Fuck, Heather, I'm sorry, I needed this so bad." He coughed, **** on his bottled frustration. "After Andrea, god, I spent so long trying to find someone to take that pain away, but there was no one--"

"-- but me," Heather finished. He held his want for her, that yearning pulse that felt so pained and helpless in her grasp. She had known cocks ready to burst with desire for flesh, but never for emotional relief. Kurt had been hurting all this time, and she cursed herself for not being more proactive much sooner. "Kurt dear, no, I'm sorry. I didn't know, and... I was hurting too, I thought I lost you forever and I just didn't know why."

He lay on top of her, kissing foreheads. "I missed you so much, squirt," he sniffed.

"And you, I missed you." She wrapped her legs around his waist and carefully flexed. Kurt hiccuped when he contacted her wetness. "Please, let me heal you, Kurt."

"Heather..." he rasped, his cousin slipping over him like a security blanket. Her warmth, her grip, her care, yes, this was everything that he needed. What he had been searching for but couldn't find. What he had wanted but couldn't admit to himself because of family backlash or societal taboos.

No, he had ruined himself for long enough now. He knew that only Heather could cure him, and she intended on nothing less than a full recovery.