justin/alex - time stacks up in piles (oneshot)
Title: Time Stacks Up in Piles
Pairing/Characters: Justin/Alex (incest)
Summary: Sometimes when she closes her eyes, wand at the ready, she sees the ocean crashing into the shore, a campfire crackling, and a damp cave.
Rating: R (sexual content)
Word Count: 1,500
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Title from Ingrid Michaelson's Once was Love.
Author's Note: Written for Porn Battle XIII using the prompts magic and discover.
She loved Dean, once.
She loved Mason, once.
She loved Justin, once.
One of these is not like the others, mixed up in a game of two truths and a lie.
Alex never had time for the past, never had much time to think the future through even when it flashed before her, ideas about what it could be falling from her lips. The present was here and now, ripe for the picking, and she wanted to dig her nails in, dig her heels in and suck it dry. The past was set in stone, the future was out of reach and forever changing, and the present she could shape herself, clay in her hands.
She didn’t realize that painting is not sculpting; she doesn’t know how to use a sculptor’s tools.
She hugs Mason, allows promises of forever to spread across her skin, press into her mouth. They’re nice, but they don’t last long, not in the timeline of forever. They’re a blimp, almost accidental, blink and you miss it.
He leaves; she blinks, forgets to miss it.
When she was young she sat in a pew at church, the wood hard and uncomfortable against her back, feet dangling over the edge. The priest was large and loud at the altar, and Alex didn’t understand most of what he said. But this she knew: you were only allowed to get married once, and it was forever. Like Mom and Dad, like Mary and Joseph.
She married Justin in their living room, five years old, wearing her puffy, uncomfortable, off-white church dress, riddled with stains. He sported a tie. Their mom took pictures, laughed and cooed about how cute it all was, Max drooling in the corner, wide eyes blinking at his siblings.
The irony is years later her I do rings in her ears, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.
This she knows: you are not allowed to marry your brother.
(Duh, she thinks.)
She visits Justin at Wiz Tech, once.
They talk about Mason. “Who?” Alex asks, looking past her brother’s head as he sits at his desk. He looks too important there, confident and arrogant and out of her league. The rob fits him well, his shoulders broader than she remembers.
They talk about Mom and Dad and Max. Alex makes sure to tell him how dumb his hair looks, and he makes sure to tell her that he saved the world a few weeks ago all by himself, thank you very much. She rolls her eyes, doesn’t miss the shift in his voice, the dulling of his eyes, the sagging of his shoulders.
They hug goodbye, too close, hips molding together, too long, time standing still.
It feels like cheating fate when both she and Justin get to keep their powers.
It isn’t.
There are consequences.
Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that this could have happened if only one person became the family wizard, doesn’t think maybe this has been building over the years, ever since Justin placed his hand on the small of her back and she leaned into it.
She doesn’t have the patience for what if.
She grows up, magic buzzing through her veins, power always tingling at the tips of her fingers, the world at her feet, everything sharper and concentrated, feelings brighter than before, hazy, hot and sticky like a summer’s day.
She has everything she’s ever wanted
except--
She doesn’t finish the thought.
Alex Russo: troublemaker, evil genius, artist, wizard.
There’s something else, some sin embedded in her bones, waiting to break free.
With great power comes great responsibility, more like with great power comes a heightened pull in the wrong direction, even if it’s the same one she’s been running in for years.
She visits Justin at Wiz Tech, twice.
They talk about Juliet. “Oh,” Justin says, eyes downcast, lips a thin line. Alex watches him, the bags under his eyes, the hallowing of his face, the uncertainty in his wrist as he waves it off. She wants to say she’s sorry for something that isn’t her fault, for something she wishes was her fault.
She could fix it, then.
She could convince Juliet to come back or she could ghost her lips over Justin’s, settle her hand on the nape of his neck.
Instead she brings up the sandwiches Max named after them.
Justin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Alex uses magic often. Poofs up meals to eat in bed while yelling at a show about paternity tests. Watches as rude venders get a little cosmic payback, birds flying at their heads, money vanishing from the registers. Goes on vacations around the world: Paris, Amsterdam, Vienna, Tokyo, Sydney, Moon, Pluto. She thinks about alternate universes, worlds where only one of them got to keep their powers, where it was Max, where she and Justin aren’t brother and sister.
Sometimes when she closes her eyes, wand at the ready, she sees the ocean crashing into the shore, a campfire crackling, and a damp cave.
It’s only a dull pain in her chest.
She exhales. Abracadabra.
She reads.
The words swim across the page and she doesn’t process any of them, but there’s something about the feel of the worn pages beneath her fingers and he spine cracking in her palm that makes her feel steady. Everything is simple for a few seconds as she turns the page.
Next chapter.
She visits Justin at Wiz Tech, three times.
She leans in and he presses his lips to hers, barely there, hesitant. She twists her fingers in his hair, scratches her nails across his scalp. He splays his hand over the small of her back, and if she was one for the past she’d be reminded of the first time he did that. She isn’t, so she doesn’t, but Justin brings her closer to him and she remembers something dark and pulsing, unspecific and strong. She pries his mouth open, slips her tongue inside, feels his entire body shutter.
She smirks. “That easy, huh?”
“Alex,” he whispers. The syllables crack, her smile falters, the world fissures.
Wrong.
The word hovers in the air around them.
Alex has never been one for doing the right thing anyway.
She gets used to the permanence of magic coursing through her blood, settling into the cracks of her bones. It’s thick inside of her, and she’s always vaguely aware of it, of what it’s given her and what it’s taken. She feels the pull of it like the moon pulls the tides, directing her body, leading her to places unknown. She learns things: how to sleep through a storm, how to bake chocolate chip cookies, how to erase people from her memory.
Alex is right more times than she is wrong, now.
Nothing makes up for the lie she fed herself: become the family wizard and everything will be easy.
Justin’s knees knock against hers, his hand traces its way up her thigh, presses against her core. She moans, arches her back and pulls at his shoulders. She wants him closer. He teases, and Alex likes to think that’s something he learned from her, even if he’d deny it like she’d deny remembering any of the boring facts he’s spewed over the years.
His mouth traces patterns on her skin, circles and lines and spells. They crash together, hot and heavy, and Alex leaves a hickey where his neck curves into his shoulder. Her entire body shudders, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.
This one will send her straight to hell.
She hisses, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, his mouth finds her pulse point, all her blood rushing to her head.
Wrong.
She tries to crush the word beneath her feet, turn it to ash with a flick of her wand.
Justin’s always been one to do the right thing, and Alex wonders if that’s changed, the ticking of the clock a metronome as she takes his dick into her mouth.
Her time’s almost up.
Dean broke her heart, once.
Mason broke her heart, once.
“This is wrong.” He doesn’t look at her when he says it, the syllables pained and distorted.
“I’ll never leave you,” he said, once, a long time ago, no memory of who she was as tears spilled from her eyes.
“I can’t leave you,” he says, his face in her hair, his hot breath on her neck. She feels his tears dampen her top.
Alex isn’t strong enough to do the right thing.
Magic has gotten her into trouble, magic has saved her life, magic as taught her many things, but it has not made her strong enough.
“I love you.”
She wraps her body around his, her breathing shallow, her fingers trembling as they trace his jawline.
Justin breaks her heart.
Once.
Pairing/Characters: Justin/Alex (incest)
Summary: Sometimes when she closes her eyes, wand at the ready, she sees the ocean crashing into the shore, a campfire crackling, and a damp cave.
Rating: R (sexual content)
Word Count: 1,500
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Title from Ingrid Michaelson's Once was Love.
Author's Note: Written for Porn Battle XIII using the prompts magic and discover.
She loved Dean, once.
She loved Mason, once.
She loved Justin, once.
One of these is not like the others, mixed up in a game of two truths and a lie.
Alex never had time for the past, never had much time to think the future through even when it flashed before her, ideas about what it could be falling from her lips. The present was here and now, ripe for the picking, and she wanted to dig her nails in, dig her heels in and suck it dry. The past was set in stone, the future was out of reach and forever changing, and the present she could shape herself, clay in her hands.
She didn’t realize that painting is not sculpting; she doesn’t know how to use a sculptor’s tools.
She hugs Mason, allows promises of forever to spread across her skin, press into her mouth. They’re nice, but they don’t last long, not in the timeline of forever. They’re a blimp, almost accidental, blink and you miss it.
He leaves; she blinks, forgets to miss it.
When she was young she sat in a pew at church, the wood hard and uncomfortable against her back, feet dangling over the edge. The priest was large and loud at the altar, and Alex didn’t understand most of what he said. But this she knew: you were only allowed to get married once, and it was forever. Like Mom and Dad, like Mary and Joseph.
She married Justin in their living room, five years old, wearing her puffy, uncomfortable, off-white church dress, riddled with stains. He sported a tie. Their mom took pictures, laughed and cooed about how cute it all was, Max drooling in the corner, wide eyes blinking at his siblings.
The irony is years later her I do rings in her ears, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.
This she knows: you are not allowed to marry your brother.
(Duh, she thinks.)
She visits Justin at Wiz Tech, once.
They talk about Mason. “Who?” Alex asks, looking past her brother’s head as he sits at his desk. He looks too important there, confident and arrogant and out of her league. The rob fits him well, his shoulders broader than she remembers.
They talk about Mom and Dad and Max. Alex makes sure to tell him how dumb his hair looks, and he makes sure to tell her that he saved the world a few weeks ago all by himself, thank you very much. She rolls her eyes, doesn’t miss the shift in his voice, the dulling of his eyes, the sagging of his shoulders.
They hug goodbye, too close, hips molding together, too long, time standing still.
It feels like cheating fate when both she and Justin get to keep their powers.
It isn’t.
There are consequences.
Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that this could have happened if only one person became the family wizard, doesn’t think maybe this has been building over the years, ever since Justin placed his hand on the small of her back and she leaned into it.
She doesn’t have the patience for what if.
She grows up, magic buzzing through her veins, power always tingling at the tips of her fingers, the world at her feet, everything sharper and concentrated, feelings brighter than before, hazy, hot and sticky like a summer’s day.
She has everything she’s ever wanted
except--
She doesn’t finish the thought.
Alex Russo: troublemaker, evil genius, artist, wizard.
There’s something else, some sin embedded in her bones, waiting to break free.
With great power comes great responsibility, more like with great power comes a heightened pull in the wrong direction, even if it’s the same one she’s been running in for years.
She visits Justin at Wiz Tech, twice.
They talk about Juliet. “Oh,” Justin says, eyes downcast, lips a thin line. Alex watches him, the bags under his eyes, the hallowing of his face, the uncertainty in his wrist as he waves it off. She wants to say she’s sorry for something that isn’t her fault, for something she wishes was her fault.
She could fix it, then.
She could convince Juliet to come back or she could ghost her lips over Justin’s, settle her hand on the nape of his neck.
Instead she brings up the sandwiches Max named after them.
Justin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Alex uses magic often. Poofs up meals to eat in bed while yelling at a show about paternity tests. Watches as rude venders get a little cosmic payback, birds flying at their heads, money vanishing from the registers. Goes on vacations around the world: Paris, Amsterdam, Vienna, Tokyo, Sydney, Moon, Pluto. She thinks about alternate universes, worlds where only one of them got to keep their powers, where it was Max, where she and Justin aren’t brother and sister.
Sometimes when she closes her eyes, wand at the ready, she sees the ocean crashing into the shore, a campfire crackling, and a damp cave.
It’s only a dull pain in her chest.
She exhales. Abracadabra.
She reads.
The words swim across the page and she doesn’t process any of them, but there’s something about the feel of the worn pages beneath her fingers and he spine cracking in her palm that makes her feel steady. Everything is simple for a few seconds as she turns the page.
Next chapter.
She visits Justin at Wiz Tech, three times.
She leans in and he presses his lips to hers, barely there, hesitant. She twists her fingers in his hair, scratches her nails across his scalp. He splays his hand over the small of her back, and if she was one for the past she’d be reminded of the first time he did that. She isn’t, so she doesn’t, but Justin brings her closer to him and she remembers something dark and pulsing, unspecific and strong. She pries his mouth open, slips her tongue inside, feels his entire body shutter.
She smirks. “That easy, huh?”
“Alex,” he whispers. The syllables crack, her smile falters, the world fissures.
Wrong.
The word hovers in the air around them.
Alex has never been one for doing the right thing anyway.
She gets used to the permanence of magic coursing through her blood, settling into the cracks of her bones. It’s thick inside of her, and she’s always vaguely aware of it, of what it’s given her and what it’s taken. She feels the pull of it like the moon pulls the tides, directing her body, leading her to places unknown. She learns things: how to sleep through a storm, how to bake chocolate chip cookies, how to erase people from her memory.
Alex is right more times than she is wrong, now.
Nothing makes up for the lie she fed herself: become the family wizard and everything will be easy.
Justin’s knees knock against hers, his hand traces its way up her thigh, presses against her core. She moans, arches her back and pulls at his shoulders. She wants him closer. He teases, and Alex likes to think that’s something he learned from her, even if he’d deny it like she’d deny remembering any of the boring facts he’s spewed over the years.
His mouth traces patterns on her skin, circles and lines and spells. They crash together, hot and heavy, and Alex leaves a hickey where his neck curves into his shoulder. Her entire body shudders, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.
This one will send her straight to hell.
She hisses, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, his mouth finds her pulse point, all her blood rushing to her head.
Wrong.
She tries to crush the word beneath her feet, turn it to ash with a flick of her wand.
Justin’s always been one to do the right thing, and Alex wonders if that’s changed, the ticking of the clock a metronome as she takes his dick into her mouth.
Her time’s almost up.
Dean broke her heart, once.
Mason broke her heart, once.
“This is wrong.” He doesn’t look at her when he says it, the syllables pained and distorted.
“I’ll never leave you,” he said, once, a long time ago, no memory of who she was as tears spilled from her eyes.
“I can’t leave you,” he says, his face in her hair, his hot breath on her neck. She feels his tears dampen her top.
Alex isn’t strong enough to do the right thing.
Magic has gotten her into trouble, magic has saved her life, magic as taught her many things, but it has not made her strong enough.
“I love you.”
She wraps her body around his, her breathing shallow, her fingers trembling as they trace his jawline.
Justin breaks her heart.
Once.