Fic: 'Maybe I Should Hate You For This' (Veronica Mars, Duncan/Lilly, R, 1/1) Title: Maybe I Should Hate You For This Fandom: Veronica Mars Characters: Duncan/Lilly Word Count: 503 Rating: R Spoilers: N/A Challenge: Porn Battle VII: Veronica Mars, Duncan/Lilly, secrets Warnings: Sexual content; mentions of incest. Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: Lilly paraded through the kitchen in the most obscene pair of short-shorts Duncan had ever witnessed.
Maybe I Should Hate You For This
Lilly paraded through the kitchen in the most obscene pair of short-shorts Duncan had ever witnessed (and living with his sister, that said a lot), a bikini top, and a popsicle in her mouth. Duncan swallowed and pretended his cereal was absolutely fascinating.
"What's up, Donut?" Lilly said cheerfully, hoisting herself onto the stool next to him, crossing her legs and bouncing one energetically. She lapped at some dripping sugary juice, and Duncan relished on the rough sound echoing his brain as he found one Cheerio left dry enough for him to chew.
"Nothing," he said, as calmly as he could muster. "Are you going somewhere or something? A bordello, maybe? A brothel?"
"God, even your 'you're such a slut, Lil' insults are all super-brainy," said Lilly, rolling her eyes skyward, as if begging with God to give her a far more entertaining brother. "You need to get laid, Donut. That's a good way to give all those neurons of yours a rest."
"Oh, so is that why you're failing English?"
"Please. I can bring my grade up easy. All I have to do is bring something else up easily..." On the off chance that Duncan didn't get what she was talking about, she gave the popsicle a suggestive lick.
"Please tell me you haven't hit on any of your teachers," said Duncan, bristling with jealousy. Lilly could do that sort of thing without reservation and without consequence. To her, it was just another dick in a series of dicks she'd entertained her body with. It wasn't that easy for Duncan.
Of course, he was jealous for other reasons, too. That she'd drop to her knees for an English grade, but not for him. That she had standards, dignity, morality.
His own slutty sister was less screwed-up than he was.
"Don't be silly, Duncan. I won't have to go that far. A miniskirt and a nice pout should do the trick. Remember how I passed history last year even though I never went?"
He remembered. He remembered every last one of Lilly's transgressions, every glimpse of thigh that was meant to tantalize someone else.
Too many nights Duncan had pressed his ear to the wall, drinking in the breathy moans in the room next door, jerking off to the sounds of Lilly going to town on a guy. Usually Logan. Sometimes someone else. Never him. She was the ultimate tease, dancing around the kitchen in scraps of cloth that could barely be defined as clothing, taunting the one person who could never have her, the one that wanted her the most.
The shame was almost too much to bear: knowing how long and how often and how badly he'd wished to be whatever guy Lilly was riding to oblivion, how he wanted even that second to be that stupid popsicle, on the receiving end of licks that would drive him insane.
He wondered how much longer he and Lilly would be able to live under the same roof before he lost his mind.