Protege and Lover

Home : Stories by MystikHeather : A Night of Reflection Series : Protege and Lover

Summary: A rainy night at the track leads to moments of quiet reflection by three people who's lives are connected by love.

AUTHOR: MystikHeather
EMAIL: mystikheather@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13/R
CHARACTER: Jimmie Johnson/Jeff Gordon, Jimmie POV
SERIES: A Night of Reflection Series
CATEGORY: General Romance
WORD COUNT: 1,030
DISCLAIMER: For entertainment purposes only, if you recognize it, I don’t own it. I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
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He is a completely different man in sleep than he is awake, this man that I love.  This man that holds the other half of my soul and all of my heart.  Stare down at him as the sun sets in the sky, casting a reddish glow across his skin, enhancing slightly parted lips as he takes slow deep breaths.  Sitting there on the couch, his head in my lap, I wish I had a way to close the blinds…the red glow he’s bathed in is too harsh for him.  Blink my eyes a few times, slightly blinded by the glare but keep myself still except for the soft running of my fingers through his hair.  Not daring to move, because for the first time in a while he’s actually sleeping peacefully.  The tension around his eyes, across his forehead completely erased in gentle, deep sleep. 

This is a side of him that no one sees…no one but me.  Not his family, not his team…just me.  This complete vulnerability that he keeps hidden behind that calm mask…NASCAR’s poster boy.  Blue eyes and a soft smile the image he gives the world, only rarely broken by raw emotion.  Never completely relaxed, but it’s only in the depths of his gaze that you can see the weariness that grips him.  The burden weighing on his shoulders of trying to carry a team, trying to resurrect past glory.  The doubt he keeps hidden so deep that he’s almost managed to deny its existence. 

He lets the mask drop for me and only me.  It takes only one look into his eyes to know what he needs.  He’ll draw a breath in to speak, but words aren’t necessary.  Not anymore.  No, just one look and I am at his side, my fingers laced through his as I draw him over to a couch, chair, bed, even the floor, drawing him down with me, his head in my lap.  Just like we were now, I’ll brush my fingers across his forehead, and as his eyes close would start to draw my fingers through his hair.  Soft gentle strokes until his breathing deepens and I know he is asleep.  Holding him there, not daring to move aside from my hands, wishing I could let him have this peace forever.

Some days the world will leave us alone for hours.  Other days what seems like mere moments.  Today…today was one of those days that it seemed like we were the only two in the world.  Hours had passed since he’d climbed into our coach, his shoulders slightly slumped from hours of appearances and interviews.  Endless questions from nosy reporters about why and how and when…questioning the team, questioning him.  And through it all that soft smile, soft voice as he gave every inquiry its due answer, never once letting that mask slip, never once letting them see how much the questions weighed on his very soul.

A distant rumble of thunder and soon the red is chased away by soft greys fading to black.  Flicker of lightning and I can’t help the soft smile that graces my lips.  The promise of a storm brings with it the promise of a night of peace.  A blanket of silence falls over the coach broken only by his soft breathing and the distant thunder that grows closer.  Keep my fingers light in his hair as the storm moves over us, and never once does he stir against me. Stare down and watch as the flashing light plays across his features, and still he doesn’t stir.  Content to just to hold him as he sleeps in my arms.  Content to be that shield that keeps the world away from him, lets him have the peace that he so surely deserves, however brief it may be.  That he should have at all times but is always quickly shattered by another reporter wanting just a small piece of him.
 
An hour or so and his eyes will open slowly, staring up at me where I look down at him.  And he’ll sit up, draw me into his arms and press his lips soft to mine.  Soft at first and then harder.  More demanding as his hands move over my body, slip under my clothes and across my skin.  Over and over until my flesh feels hot, every inch on fire with burning desire and need for him.  He’ll lay me down and claim me as his, like he always has.  Gentle and slow and complete, his eyes never leaving mine as I moan beneath him.  Our bodies slick with sweat and passion, love pouring from him to me and returned to him as I’ll find his lips again, pouring every ounce of myself into that kiss.  Moaning my love for him over and over again until we’re both drained, lying with limbs entwined in each other, unable to separate where I end and he begins. 

We’ll fall asleep and wake up like that, and his eyes will sparkle, a soft grin on his face as he traces his thumb across my lips.  And he’ll shift forward, replacing his thumbs with his lips and again I’ll be caught up in his taste, in his passion.  Half the morning gone before we’ll finally unwrap ourselves from each other and find our way out of tangled sheets.  Move through the day, our respective masks in place until we can once again escape into the solitude of our coach.

Brush my fingers softly against his skin, across his lips, his breath caressing my skin.  Listening close and noticing just when he starts to waken, his breathing growing more shallow.  Feel him shift against me as the rain turns softer, glance down and find myself staring into crystal blue.  Tilt my head to the side as his hand comes up, fingers brushing down my cheek and across my lips.   There are no words between us, but words were never necessary.  His fingers brush through my hair now, his hand at the back of my neck and he draws me down.  Close my own eyes this time as he draws me down to his lips, and feel myself fall…

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MystikHeather - mystikheather@cryptoffic.com