Taylor finds some kissing cousins

The door skidded on the white dress with a light rustle against the carpet, swinging barely enough to be called cracked. Not that Taylor noticed. She saw that they didn't notice either.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" Heather's voice exhaled in short pants underneath the tattered blanket of her hair. The blonde that lay on top of her was decidedly louder, but much less coherent, as his hips rolled in wider ellipses against hers. Sweat slathered their bodies, glistening in the dim light cast from the hall.

Taylor's eyes drifted to their connection. Kurt's impressiveness happily made Heather its home, paradoxically welcomed with more cursing until she too lost intelligibility. Kurt seemed almost anguished, though not in the imminent cognizance of fucking his cousin. He knew very well who she was, and that's why Kurt seemed to be pained. Taylor could read his story miles away.

Something else drifted downward, and she astonished to find a hand of hers unsnapped her jeans. She let it be, certainly it had important business to manage. When its fingers reached her sopping cave, she understood. Her rasp rattled from her throat in comprehension.

Her vision smeared around closing eyelids, and the reason she ventured out to the Ravers' cabin return to her mind. Zack. Her kind little brother, the one she so desperately worried about, the one she couldn't stand to see unhappy or tortured by anything. Or anyone.

That Victoria, man. Was she a piece of work. Taylor had no clue what Zack saw within her, and inner beauty definitely wasn't on his mind most of the time with her, she was sure. The last time she teased him about her, he all but confessed that she knew nothing about her interests or hobbies or anything about her really, except that she was nice and sweet and, how did he put it? Oh yeah. "She has... great assets!"

Taylor would have smiled if her lower jaw hadn't become unhinged from her skull. Her rasp had devolved into a grating cry, loud to her ears but overpowered by the fitness video Heather and Kurt were enacting. She bent against the door frame, with her jeans slipped down past her knees and two fingers slipped under her panties.

Another flash of a memory, and she was there with Zack after Ashley's sweet eighteen. He was sobbing, his shoulders moving in heavy shudders. Words flowed from his lips like his tears, blathering about how he was sorry about what happened, about how he just didn't know what he was doing, and about how he had hurt Lisa like that. Taylor could have scolded him, and on some level she did later by clearing the house of any liquor, but when her brother's heart was torn, hers did too. She remembered cradled him like she had done when they were younger, over scraped knees and bullies, and now over lost loves and drunken mistakes.

Zack so deserved a normal time with a girl, for once not caught in a downburst of drama. At least once, with someone that she could trust not to fracture his world, someone he could hold onto as they rode to climax, someone with experience to escort him back down and reassure him if something were to happen. Someone like... like...

No. No, no, no. Not that.

Her vision cleared. Kurt kissed Heather like old flames finding each other once again. She twisted around under him, and he entered her again, with endless vigor.

"Taylor?" Her brother's slow voice stunned her ears. Her head cracked at she caught sight of Zack, very naked and very stimulated, emerging from the other bedroom.

She swallowed nothing from her parched mouth. Calling her brother "little" was such a silly notion.