Author: MadEyeMax Title: Scared Series: The Phelpscest Chronicles: Story 2 Pairing: James Phelps/Oliver Phelps Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: I own nothing, I know nothing, this didn’t happen. Distribution: If you want to post this somewhere else, just let me know. Summary: Oliver has distanced himself from his twin, and now James wants an explanation. Warnings: twincest, telepathy Author's Notes: This is the sequel to “Sick”. I changed James’s nickname from Jim to Jamie because I like it better. This was obviously written before the convention took place the weekend of August 12th in Massachusetts, when we all learned that James apparently hates being called Jamie. Well, I’ve decided to continue referring to him as Jamie in my fics, so, yeah. Sorry, James. July 20, 2008 James opened the door to find his identical twin standing in the hall. “Are you joking?” James asked groggily. “Sorry,” said Oliver. “I know it’s late.” “Early’s more like it – Wait. Is something wrong? Are you okay?” “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just … wanted to see you.” “Oh.” James shuffled his feet and pulled his house coat tighter around himself. “Well, come in then,” he said, stepping aside. “I suppose I should offer you a drink or something.” Oliver slipped his shoes off and smiled to himself. “You don’t sound too pleased to see me.” “Of course I’m happy to see you, it’s been ages. I’m just tired. You woke me up.” “I know. I’m sorry. No, I don’t need anything, thanks. I do like what you’ve done with the place,” Oliver commented, following James into the living room. “Thanks. Well, actually thank my decorator. She’s brilliant.” James turned on a lamp and plopped down on his couch. Oliver sat next to him. “You look like you’ve been someplace nice.” Oliver glanced down at his blazer. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I was out with Jen.” “Oh yeah? How’d that go?” Oliver shrugged. “Good, I guess.” “Uh-oh. What’s wrong with this one?” “Don’t give me that look.” “You’re doing it again.” “Doing what?” “You know! Same thing you did with Ashleigh and Tara and Zoë …” “Jamie …” “… and Bethany and Gwen and Christa …” “Jamie …” “… and Emily and Keri-Ann and Danielle …” “Jamie! I had perfectly legitimate reasons for breaking it off with all of them.” “Really?” James asked, his tone clearly indicating he wasn’t buying it. “Well, let’s hear your latest lame excuse then.” “There is no ‘lame excuse’, I just didn’t like her!” “Uh-huh. You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to let me in on the secret of exactly what it is you’re looking for.” “What it is I’M looking for?” Oliver snorted. “At least I go out. A young, attractive, single guy staying at home with his dogs all the time isn’t normal, you know.” “I prefer their company,” James retorted simply. “And anyway, at least I’m not kidding myself.” “And what exactly does that mean?” James stared straight into his eyes. “You know what it means. You might’ve figured out how to keep me out of your mind, but, fact is, I can still read you like a book.” Oliver frowned at him, then looked away. “That’s right,” said James. “Look away quick before your eyes betray you.” At that, Oliver turned a fierce glare on James. “Why don’t you just say it, you’re so confident it’s the truth!” he hissed. “Do I really need to?” James asked quietly. “Do I really need to state the reason why you’ve chosen to come here and argue with me, rather than spend the night with a gorgeous girl who clearly wants you?” Oliver made a derisive noise. “She doesn’t know me.” “Well, you only just met her a week ago.” “No, what I mean is … she CAN’T know me, not like … not like …” “Not like I do?” James offered. Oliver remained silent, staring at a large painting, at a potted plant, at the chocolate brown Cocker Spaniel on the armchair across from him; anywhere but at his brother. “Why have you come here?” asked James. Oliver hazarded a glance at him; his arms were crossed, his jaw was set. “God, you look like mum,” said Oliver, shuddering and looking away again. “Why have you come?” James repeated. Oliver sighed. “I miss your voice,” he admitted. He looked down at his knees. “My mind is, uh … it’s too quiet. You know?” “I know,” James nodded, understanding what Oliver meant all too well. “So, why did you shut me out in the first place?” Oliver winced. He could hear the subtle hint of hurt of James’s voice. “That’s the thing, Jamie. I didn’t do it on purpose.” “I don’t understand.” “Neither do I.” They sat in silence for several minutes, Oliver glancing around at James’s various knick- knacks, James staring at his lap. He crossed his legs, bouncing his top leg impatiently, frustration building inside him. “I hate this,” James finally said. “What is this awkwardness between us now? We’ve never had this problem before.” “Serves us right,” said Oliver glumly. “’S what happens when you … well …” “Fuck?” James said bluntly. “Yeah. That.” “Well, I think this is stupid!” James crossed his arms even tighter across his chest. “This is the kind of petty, immature shite that happens to regular people, not us. We had a bond nothing could touch.” “Till now.” “Don’t say that!” James snapped, suddenly glaring at his brother. “You say that as though it’s too late or something! And what d’you mean ‘serves us right’? Like we did something wrong!” Oliver looked slowly around at James, shaking his head. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “Oh, I get it,” said James angrily. “You prefer being miserable.” “I do not.” “Oh, sure you don’t! We were happy together, and then all of a sudden …” James trailed off, and the silence was worse for Oliver than the yelling. He could feel James’s accusatory stare boring into him. “I’m through blaming myself,” James said quietly. “I know now that it’s your problem, not mine.” Oliver looked sadly over at James’s angrily bouncing leg. “You blamed yourself?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “Of course I did. What was I supposed to think? You wouldn’t talk to me.” “Dammit,” Oliver sighed, sitting back and running his fingers through his hair. “You have no idea what happened?” James asked. “None at all?” Oliver remained silent, but James could tell he had something on his mind. James uncrossed his arms, turned his body toward Oliver. “I’m listening,” he said, and there was no anger or malice or sarcasm in his voice now. Oliver exhaled heavily. “D’you remember,” he began, “the last time we … made love?” “Course. It was the most intense … It was incredible.” “Yeah. It was.” July 20, 2005 James opened the door to his twin and smiled a smile so broad, it hurt his face. He flung his arms around Oliver’s neck and held him tight. “The doorman thought I was you,” said Oliver. “You should’ve seen his face.” James giggled in Oliver’s ear, caressing Oliver’s skin with his hot breath. Oliver tightened his grip on James’s torso and kissed his neck. “Mmm,” James moaned. “That feels nice.” ‘Uh-oh!’ he thought suddenly. ‘Mrs. Howard!’ Oliver stopped kissing him. ‘What’d you call me?’ ‘No! Mrs. Howard, the nosey old bat across the way! I just saw her eye in the peep hole! Get in here!’ James pulled Oliver inside and promptly shut his door. “We have to be careful,” said James, putting the chain on his door. “This building’s full of snobby old rich people. If any one of them gets wind of the nature of our relationship, I’ll be outta here faster than you can say ‘twincest’.” “Why on earth would you want to live amongst snobby old rich people?” “Are you joking? This place is gorgeous,” James said, gesturing around at his spacious new flat. He’d only just moved in and had yet to unpack, so there were boxes everywhere. “It’s very nice,” said Oliver. “What do you need all this space for though?” “Dunno,” James said, pushing a box out of the way with his foot as he led Oliver into his living room. “I’ll accumulate more stuff. Don’t you just love the way your voice echoes in an unfurnished room? HELLO!” James called to his high ceiling. Oliver shook his head, grinning. “I’m starting to question whether you should be living on your own. You still act like a kid.” “Well, I’ll never really grow up. I hope. Have a seat over there,” James said, pointing at a large, plastic container filled with clothes. “I’d offer you something, but I haven’t had a chance to do the shopping yet.” “’S all right. We can order in.” Oliver patted the empty spot next to him. “Chinese take- away in bed, yeah?” “That sounds nice,” said James, as he sat next to Oliver, leaning into him and gazing into his eyes. “Does that mean you’re staying the night?” “Naturally.” James smiled and leaned in for a kiss, opened his mouth and accepted Oliver’s tongue. He passionately reciprocated, pushing his own tongue forward, while gently slipping Oliver’s denim jacket off his shoulder. Oliver shrugged the jacket off and dropped it to the floor. “Mmm,” James moaned into Oliver’s mouth. Feeling Oliver’s hands on him was making him squirm with anticipation, and his impatient fidgeting only fuelled Oliver’s desire. He let his hands venture up underneath James’s shirt, onto the warm, smooth skin of James’s back. ‘Bed. Now!’ James thought urgently, standing up and pulling Oliver to his feet. He took Oliver by the hand and led him from the living room, up a short spiral staircase to the second level and into his bedroom, where his mattress lay sheetless on the floor, more boxes surrounding it, an untidy pile of clothing sitting on a chair in a corner. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” said Oliver. “Oh, shut up,” said James, moving closer and pulling Oliver’s shirt up over his head. “Now, what d’you think about a mirrored ceiling, eh?” “I think nineteen-year-olds shouldn’t be allowed to decorate on their own.” James tossed Oliver’s shirt aside. “Oh, fine. But there’ll be a very large mirror somewhere in this room, mark my words.” James shed his own shirt and stepped closer to Oliver. Soon they were wrapped up in each other, devouring each other, their mouths hungry, their moans sounding almost plaintive. James began to fumble with the button of Oliver’s jeans, stumbled, and they both fell, landing in a giggling heap on the mattress. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Oliver said, undoing his own jeans and removing them, while James laughed hysterically next to him. “You’d think you’d never undone my jeans before.” “Yeah, well,” said James, removing his own pants. “The hole on those ones is too bloody small, isn’t it?” James sent his jeans flying across the room. They landed on the floor just next to the chair with the pile of clothing on it. “I’ll bet that pile will still be there a month from now,” said Oliver. James propped himself up on his elbow and smirked at him. “Okay, mother.” 2008 “I think I started tickling you at that point,” said Oliver, staring off at nothing, lost in the memory. “Yeah. That was a really nice night.” “Uh-huh. Yep.” “Right … So, what went wrong?” Oliver looked over at him, his expression troubled. “You must have some idea,” said James. Oliver frowned. “I should,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I know I should.” 2005 Oliver slowly pulled James’s underwear down his legs. James lounged casually on his mattress, propped up on his elbows, watching Oliver’s rather methodical undressing of him. “Are you enjoying yourself?” asked James. “Mm-hmm,” replied Oliver, not looking up. His eyes remained on James’s midsection as he tossed the boxer briefs over his shoulder. “You’re very odd, you know,” said James. “Oh?” asked Oliver, as he cupped James’s hipbones. “Am I ripe?” Oliver looked up then. “I beg your pardon?” “You’re squeezing my hips like you’re testing fruit in a grocery store. I was just wondering if I was ready to be eaten yet.” “Funny,” Oliver smirked, going back to what he was doing to James’s body. “And no, you’re not quite there yet.” “Ah,” James nodded. “Well, you just let me know then.” “Will do.” James continued to watch his brother, smiling to himself. Oliver slid his fingers down onto the sides of James’s thighs, then slowly back up onto his rising and falling belly. They rested there for a long while, then Oliver brought his face down to it and nuzzled it gently, savouring it’s firmness and softness and warmth. ‘You do this every time,’ thought James. ‘Does it bother you?’ ‘You know it doesn’t. I think it’s cute … odd, but cute.’ Oliver smiled up at him briefly, then went back to his ritual. His tongue flicked into the bellybutton once, twice and then a third time, each time eliciting a little moan from James. He planted tiny, feather-light kisses all around the navel, meanwhile beginning to moan a little himself. ‘You really are enjoying yourself,’ thought James. ‘You know I love to touch you. You know I love the way you smell.’ James lowered his head to the mattress and relaxed as Oliver continued to kiss and lick his belly. He reached down and raked his fingers into Oliver’s hair, combing through it and caressing Oliver’s neck and shoulders. Oliver began to suck gently on the hollow just next to James’s right hipbone, and James arched his back and spread his legs, moaning at the ceiling. Then Oliver moved downward, down between James’s legs and laved James’s balls with his tongue. ‘Are you marking your territory?’ thought James; the voice Oliver received in his head was a lustful whisper, almost a hiss. ‘You know I’m yours,’ James went on. ‘You know I belong to you.’ He raised his legs to allow Oliver better access. ‘No,’ Oliver thought back. ‘I belong to you.’ He took James’s balls entirely in his mouth. James responded by spreading his legs even further apart. He moaned more loudly as Oliver ventured further down, lapping at his perineum, just grazing his tight little opening. ‘Eat me, Ollie,’ James thought desperately. ‘Bury your face in me.’ Oliver came back up, ginning mischievously. James quickly repositioned himself, rolling onto his stomach, his legs spread as wide as possible on either side of Oliver. Oliver gazed at James’s backside for a moment, cupped both cheeks and spread them apart, massaging them lovingly as he stared at the tiny, pink muscle-ring awaiting his eager tongue. He lowered his head again, kissed James’s right cheek, kissed the left, kissed James’s tailbone, and kissed his way down the crack until he reached his destination. He began by gently rimming the outer edge, and was soon licking and suckling, groaning into James’s body. James didn’t stay still for long. His moans grew louder as his brother feasted on him, and slowly he raised himself up onto his knees and elbows, so his bottom was high in the air and fully exposed. Oliver followed it up and continued to eat rather sloppily; thin rivers of drool ran down each of James’s thighs. Oliver forced his tongue inside and fucked James with it until it became too tired to continue. By this time, James was expressing his pleasure quite loudly while stroking his cock beneath him. “Now!” he demanded. Oliver both heard it with his ears and inside his head, and soon after the demand had been made, James was wriggling back, impaling himself on Oliver’s hot, hard length. Oliver groaned at the welcoming, familiar warmth and tightness. He took James by his hips and began to thrust. He concentrated on James’s desires; James didn’t want him to start slow this time, so he didn’t. He rammed into James with as much force as he could muster, causing James to yelp and whimper. He sensed that James wanted more, so Oliver gave him more, hard and fast. He sensed that James wanted him to scratch his nails down his back hard. Oliver obliged, leaving eight red trails on the pale skin. He sensed James wanted more, so he repeated the action, irritating the same spots, making them redder. He sensed that James wanted him to pull his hair, so Oliver grabbed a chunk of the shiny, ginger locks and yanked James’s head back. ‘You want me to abuse you today,’ thought Oliver. ‘I told you I belong to you. I’m your bitch tonight.’ These words sent chills through Oliver’s body, and with a loud grunt he slammed into James even harder than before. James screamed and clawed the mattress, pressing back against Oliver’s violent thrusting. James then sat up on his knees, so he was in the same position as Oliver. He turned his head around as far as he could, trying to meet Oliver’s mouth with his own. They both extended their tongues and lapped at each other’s mouths, panting and thinking each other’s names over and over. Oliver’s hands began on the sides of James’s narrow waist, then moved forward onto his belly, up onto his chest, down onto his thighs. One of his hands came to rest on James’s leaking cock and began to stroke it. James arched again, positioning his knees even further apart on either side of Oliver. James’s hands went roaming as well, up and back into Oliver’s hair, then back down to his own erect nipples. ‘You feel dirty today, eh?’ Oliver thought. ‘You’re my little bitch-slut, aren’t you?’ James moaned loudly upon hearing this thought. “Yes, Ollie, yes!” he screamed, pulling and pinching his nipples more roughly. Oliver suddenly wished there was a mirror in the room. A few mirrors, in fact; one before them and one on either side of them. He wanted to watch James in the one in front, stare at his slender, healthy body standing tall on his spread knees, him playing with his own nipples, tilting his head back, exposing his long neck. And in the side mirrors he’d watch both James and himself, him pounding James’s arse, James squirming, his back arched beautifully, his pretty face contorted with pleasure, their identical bodies, all peaches and cream and caramel freckles, locked in a deviant embrace. 2008 “I don’t remember pushing you down,” said Oliver. “You did,” James assured him gently. “You didn’t hurt me. It was actually kind of … sexy.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Humph. You did seem to be enjoying yourself.” “Oh, I was,” James smiled. “You were an animal that night.” “Yeah. I was … out of control.” 2005 James landed on his stomach with a grunt. He promptly obeyed his twin’s unspoken command to roll onto his back, and groaned as Oliver forced his cock back inside. ‘Deep inside me, Ollie,’ he thought. ‘Deeper … Harder …’ But Oliver didn’t need to be told. He’d already resumed his assault on James’s body. Now it was James’s turn to claw at Oliver’s back. The pummeling Oliver gave him was steady and relentless and hard and rough and oddly tender. Oliver stared down at James, taking everything in; his delicate features, his passionate, incoherent cries, his scent, his heat and the movement of his body. And suddenly a need took hold of him, gripped his brain and scratched at his heart. He needed James. In every way possible, he needed James. His brother, his twin, his Jamie, his love, his life. If he were to lose James, what would he do? What would happen to him? At that moment, he had no doubt that, without James, he would die. He would simply cease to live. This was terrifying to him. He stopped fucking James. James was already staring at him, having sensed the change in his brother’s emotions. “Ollie?” he asked. Oliver met James’s eye. ‘I love you,’ he thought. James smiled uncertainly. ‘I love you too, baby.’ Oliver shook his head slowly, his lovely features subtly tainted by fear. ‘I love you too much,’ he thought. ‘I love you so hard, James.’ The smile faded from James’s face. A faint line appeared between his dyed eyebrows. ‘Is that possible?’ he asked. ‘To love someone too much, I mean?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘You’re scared.’ James cupped Oliver’s face. ‘There’s no need to be scared.’ James gently guided Oliver’s head down next to his own, lowering Oliver’s ear to his mouth, and he whispered, “Fuck me, Ollie. Finish fucking me and come deep inside me. Okay? You’ll feel better after you come, okay, baby?” For several seconds, neither twin moved. There was no sound, except for their synchronized breathing and the hum of their shared thoughts; no movement, except the steady rise and fall of their chests. ‘This frightens me,’ Oliver thought. ‘I know, baby. But this is love. You don’t get to be in control. You can’t schedule it, or put it into neat little piles, or file it, or put it in your bloody BlackBerry.’ At that, James laughed a little. Oliver raised up to look down at him again. James smiled up at him. ‘Come inside me,’ he begged again. ‘Please?’ The fear didn’t leave Oliver’s eyes as he rubbed the tip of his nose against James’s and pressed his mouth to James’s mouth. The fear didn’t leave his mind as he slid his tongue forward for James to suck and began to thrust again. He came shortly thereafter, and his pleasure shot through James’s body, triggering James’s orgasm. Each twin’s orgasm was always intensified by the other’s when they’d overlap, the added pleasure making it almost impossible for either one to stay quiet. Oliver lay flat against James, absorbing James’s involuntary convulsions, feeling James releasing his seed onto both their bellies, loving the desperate, raspy nature of James’s strangled-sounding screams, and knowing he must sound very much the same. Then Oliver collapsed on top of James, exhausted, and James wrapped his long limbs around him. ‘Don’t leave me,’ Oliver pleaded weakly, breathing hard against James’s neck. ‘Where would I go, silly?’ James thought back, stroking Oliver’s hair. ‘Where would I go without you?’ 2008 “You never did say you wouldn’t leave me though, did you?” said James, and there was no mistaking the hint of bitterness in his voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jamie,” Oliver replied sadly. “It freaked me out, needing you so badly. I guess my mind shut you out as a defence mechanism, or something.” “But we’d been together two years already. Why then? What was so different about that night?” “I don’t know. It just all dawned on me at once, how we were always together, how we couldn’t spend more than a few hours apart, how dependent upon each other we were. Our minds, it seemed, were intertwined and became even more so each time we made love. I could feel it. Each time I entered you. Each time I made you come.” “I know. I felt it too. But I found it erotic and … and touching.” “I know you did. I’m so sorry, Jamie.” James sighed, slid closer to Oliver and rubbed his back. “I guess I extricated my mind from yours to see if I could. To see if I could live without you.” “And you can. So, there it is.” James stood, crossing his arms again, and walked away, toward the kitchen. “You’ll be fine,” he called over his shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of.” “Course I do,” Oliver called back. “When I open my mind to you again, I still have to worry about losing you, don’t I?” “I told you three years ago, I’m not going anywhere, and I …” James poked his head out of the kitchen. Oliver smiled shyly at him. “What?” “Well, I am a worrier by nature, you know. I just wouldn’t be me if I didn’t …” “No, no, not that!” James snapped, walking back over to him and sitting down. “‘When’? You said ‘when’, not ‘if ’, right? I mean, I did hear that correctly, didn’t I?” Oliver’s answer came in the form of tiny tapping at James’s consciousness, a request for entry. James smiled and accepted. It began as a faint droning hum that gradually increased in volume, as though approaching James’s mind from a distance. Various trains of thought reached out and plunged into James’s consciousness, like shafts of sunlight breaking through thick tree cover, illuminating the ground underneath. ‘Hello, you,’ he thought, smiling warmly at Oliver. ‘Welcome back.’ Oliver inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, fighting back tears. ‘God, that feels amazing,’ he thought. ‘I missed you so much.’ His expression suddenly sad, he reached up to stroke James’s cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, Jamie,’ he repeated. James closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, kissing the palm of Oliver’s hand. Then Oliver stood and extended that hand to James. “Why don’t we go upstairs and I can make it up to you, yeah?” he said softly. James took the hand and stood as well. “You read my mind,” he said. They both snickered at that. Then Oliver pulled James close and kissed him deeply. ‘Your sense of humour hasn’t changed,’ thought Oliver. ‘Yep. It’s still horrible.’ The kiss broke, and Oliver took James’s hand again and led the way up the small spiral staircase, holding tight to James’s hand, holding tight to James’s mind.