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Afterwards, Randy leads them, quiet as dead men, into the living room. Noel, uncharacteristically cowed but still an open book, looks nervously to Randy for further direction, nervous to provoke him further. Randy’s inexplicable calm in the face of the challenge Noel had issued was making her nervous as well.
“Well?” Randy asks after a loaded moment. "Aren’t you going to take a seat?”
He gestures towards the old, reliable couch in front of the TV. Noel reluctantly obeys the implied order and takes a seat on the far edge, shamefaced, right hand fidgeting with the small blanket slung over the armrest, transparently hoping that Cathy will take the seat next to him, function as a human shield between him and her Dad. Before she can make her way over to do that, though, Randy sticks an arm out in front of her.
“No, Cathy. I’d really like it if you would take a seat in the armchair, instead, if you’d please.”
Cathy starts turning to give him a glare, but one look at Noel makes her think better of it. Instead, she gives a curt nod, walking the short distance and settling in with a sick, sinking feeling.
From her place on the armchair, she's perpendicular to Noel on the couch. Her view of the TV was a little worse than his was, but not by much. It occurs to her that normally that was something she would have been a little mad about, him having anything even just a little bit better, but in a situation like this it was hard to care.
When Randy is satisfied that she's seated and not going anywhere any time soon, he turns and walks over to the couch and takes a seat so close to Noel that their legs press together. She sees Noel pull a face before trying to pull back on his usual haughty expression. It doesn't work, and he comes across as vaguely sick instead. Randy doesn't give any indication that he thinks his presence so close is anything but welcome, and as soon as he's settled he leans forward and grabs the remote off the coffee table. He clicks the red power button at the top to turn the TV on.
“Well. Well!” he says suddenly. Cathy and Noel both jump in their seats, Noel a little moreso than Cathy. “I suppose it's time for us to decide on a movie.” He begins clicking his way around the television, looking for something to put on. He asks them if they have any preferences. Both of them say no, and he looks a little annoyed at that. He goes back to searching around.
Noel begins to subtly squirm next to Randy, trying to put a little distance between them, settling down when this only manages to wedge him further into the armrest's cushion. Cathy feels a nauseated pity for him, like she would a rat caught in a trap. There's nowhere to go.
Randy finally settles on a movie. It’s one Cathy has never heard of before, and its strangeness and bloodiness captivates her. Cathy for a little while is almost distracted from the microdrama playing out on the couch by the macrodrama playing out on the screen. Noel, however, becomes progressively paler as the movie meanders on, and she suspects only partially due to the content of the film. But despite her worry, she can’t help but glance back to Noel less and less as the movie goes on.
And then something changes. The next time she looks back, it’s because she hears Noel make a noise of pure, concentrated fear and outrage. Randy’s huge hand had, when she wasn’t paying attention, moved itself right onto Noel’s upper thigh, pinky finger inches from his crotch. The hand clenches down, drawing another noise from Noel similar to the first.
“Dad-“ Cathy starts, before Randy cuts her off. “Cathy. Be quiet.” He still had his hand on Noel’s thigh.
She opens her mouth to fire back anyway but at that moment the stress and tension Noel had been holding back finally becomes too much for him to bear. He erupts.
“Let go of me! You’re fucking crazy!” He shoves Randy as hard as he can, center of his chest. It doesn't do much.
Cathy can tell that Randy didn't like that at all.
Things start moving very quickly after that.
Randy manhandles Noel onto his back on the couch, mid back pushed harshly against the armrest, sliding a little on the cheery blanket, head hanging over the edge, Randy’s hand covering his mouth. Cathy stifles a tiny scream. Randy’s knees on either side of Noel’s legs keep him still as Randy uses his other hand to unzip his pants and then put the hand inside.
Cathy can’t help the arousal that shoots through her body like a bolt of lightning to see it, equally painful and shocking. She feels her mouth watering with equal parts nausea and lust. For a moment she’s sure that she’ll just vomit everywhere and Randy will have to stop to help her clean it up. But her lunch stays stubbornly, unbelievably where it is.
Randy starts jacking Noel off, starting slow but steadily speeding . What she can see of Noel’s face under Randy’s big hand starts to look crumbled up, agony or pleasure, she can't tell. Randy is almost humping Noel, the motion rocking him slightly back and forth. Cathy finds herself mimicking the humping motion by instinct alone, disgusted with her reaction when she notices. She tries to stop but starts rubbing her thighs together instead, squirmy. She presses a hand hard between her legs, trying to stop the feeling.
Noel starts crying. Little tears at first and then, muffled from beneath Randy’s hand, sobbing, louder as the minutes go on. Every noise is like acid splashing against her, painful stinging sensations on her skin and in her pussy. He squirms more and more against Randy’s implacable bulk before abruptly going completely stiff, like a fainting goat. Randy’s hand slows its aggressive pace, until finally he's stopped moving it altogether. He takes his hand out of Noel's underwear. It’s covered in spunk. Cathy doesn't know what she's feeling.
She stares speechlessly at them. Noel is completely limp, draped haphazardly over the edge of the couch. Randy wipes his hand on the edge of Noel’s shirt and then turns to Cathy and gives her a grin. It’s a completely out of place, boyish expression, like he’s inviting her to share in a joke.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” He winks. Seeing his usual charm in this situation feels like seeing him through a funhouse mirror, grotesquely exaggerating the things that seemed normal before. He’s still sitting on Noel. She can’t think of what to do other than to smile weakly. He seems discontented by her silence. “What’s with the long face?”
And in that moment, she just can’t help it. Without warning or intention, she bursts into tears.