Giving In

Home : Stories by MystikHeather : Dangerous Liaisons : Giving In

Summary: At Richmond, Greg takes what he wants.

AUTHOR: MystikHeather
EMAIL: mystikheather@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
CHARACTER: Jimmie Johnson/Greg Biffle, Greg POV
SERIES: Dangerous Liaisons
CATEGORY: Smut
WORD COUNT: 3,150
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just borrowing. 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. ;-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the Chevy Rock & Roll 400 at Richmond: September 10th, 2005

I’m going to have him again.  Tonight.  As soon as all of this promotional shit is done.  It’s not something that was on my original agenda for the evening.  But watching him tonight, after the race, seeing him standing there with that pout on his face…well, it’s easy enough to change my original plans.  I am going to erase that pout and replace it was ecstasy.  Only tonight, I’m not going to just take him and dominate.  No, I’m going to make him beg for it.  I want to hear that smooth voice whimpering and pleading for release.  I want to see him thrash beneath me, aching for that one last touch that will send him over the edge. 

I try not to groan in frustration as the photographer moves us into what has got to be the 60th position of the night.  It’s all I can do to keep from grabbing him right here; some perverse act of fate that we’re right next to each other.  I just want to get this over with so I can have him.  I’m sure everyone thinks the grin on my face is because I’m in the Chase.  If they only knew what I was really thinking.  Only one person was going to know that.  The one standing right next to me.  He’s going to experience it firsthand.
 
Finally, after the 600th shot, we’re free to go.  Everyone’s still slapping hands, grinning, talking about what the next ten weeks are going to be like.  Everyone except for him.  He’s playing along with the crowd, of course, like a good boy.  Putting on that fake smile, pretending that everything’s ok.  It’s not.  Maybe they don’t know it, but I do.  I heard the conversation between him and Jeff right after the race.  The one that ended with Jimmie walking towards the track with hurt eyes.  That hurt was still there -- masked, but there.  And I was going to blast it away, transform that hurt into desire.

I nod my goodbyes to my teammates, and follow him off the stage, through the darkened garage area.  I stay far enough back that, while I’m sure he knows someone is following him, he can’t tell it’s me.    I keep to the shadows, watching as he continually glances back, trying to see.  He’s quickened his pace, that irrational fear that something bad was coming seeming to overwhelming him. 

I curse softly as I brush up against a tool cart, causing something to crash to the floor.  The sound causes him to whirl around, looking for the source of the disturbance, eyes narrowing in the dim light.  “Who’s there?” he calls out softly, slight irritation in his voice. 

I step out where he can see me, trying to bite back the grin I feel tugging at my lips.  “Well hello, Jimmie.  Fancy meeting you here.”

I love watching the transition of emotions on his face; he’s like an open book to me.  Curiosity to irritation in five seconds.  “What the fuck do you want, Greg?” he snaps.

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that…apparently he’s forgotten that I like fire and attitude.  “Now now, Jimmie,” I drawl, walking slowly towards him, “Is that any way to be?”  I step closer to him, relishing the fact that, while there’s slight hesitation growing in his eyes, he’s not backing away.  Not even flinching. 

“Look, I’m tired Greg.  I want to go to sleep.  Is there something I can help you with?” He sighs heavily.

I try, but I can’t help the grin that flashes across my face.  By his reaction, I have a feeling it’s quite…predatory.  He actually gasps softly, taking a quick step back, further into the shadows.  “What’s the matter Jimmie?” I ask, keeping my voice soft, as I take another step closer to him.  We’re almost touching at this point, one more step and we will be.  I wonder, if I take that step, will he stand his ground or back away?  Only one way to find out…I take that last step, shocked and pleased when his only reaction is a slight flinch.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, his voice soft.  He sighs, his eyes dropping to stare at the floor, holding himself still as I bring my fingers up to trace across his cheek.  I let them slide across his lips, then down his neck to rest at the base of his throat.  I lean forward, letting my tongue dart out, licking softly at his skin. 

He starts to pull away from me, and I tighten my fingers in warning, feeling the thrill race through me as he instantly freezes.  “Please,” he whispers, and I glance up to see his eyes wide and darting around the garage.  “Not here…”

I push him hard back against the nearest wall, keeping my fingers tight around his neck.  “What if I want to do it here, Jimmie?” I growl, watching his reactions.  “What if I like the thrill of possibly being caught?”

His eyes close, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

“Would you fight me?” I press my body against his, sliding a knee between his legs. 

His eyes flash open, glaring at me as a flush creeps across his cheeks.  But again he shows how he’s learned his place, as that’s the only reaction I get. 

“Answer my question, Jimmie,” I growl, pushing my knee up into him in warning.  “Would you fight me?”

“No.”  His voice is barely louder than a whisper, as his eyes fall to the floor again.

“What if I want you to?”

“Then you’ll need to pick another location,” he replies, not in anyway being argumentative, just stating a fact.  “If you want a struggle, this is too public of a place.”

I can’t help but lick my lips.  “Now that…is a good reason to change locations.”  Stepping away from him, I motion for him to walk in front of me.  “My place or yours?”  Again I grin as his shoulders tense in front of me. 

“Yours,” he grinds out, his voice tense. 

I place my hand against the small of his back as we walk, urging him forward, leaning close.  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He moves obediently in the direction I lead him, and within minutes I’m pushing him inside my coach, locking the door.  I nudge him into the center of the room, circling slowly around him.  Reaching out, I let my finger trace down his spine, grinning as he moves away from me.  Turning, he backs away from me, his eyes flashing.  “I’m really not in the mood for this now, Greg,” he growls, shifting towards the door.

“Maybe I don’t really care what you’re in the mood for, Jimmie.”  I sidestep, blocking his retreat to the door.  I step forward quickly, fisting my hands in his shirt, pushing him back towards the bedroom.  “Maybe I’m just gonna take what I want, how I want it.”

His hands reach up, clawing at mine, and the pain as his nails scrape across my skin is both irritating and arousing at the same time.  I shove him hard, grinning as he stumbles back into the bedroom, barely keeping his feet.  I close the door behind me, turning the lock as he glares at me.  I move forward, backing him up against the bed.  As I reach for him, he does just as I expect him to…he tries to bolt around me, his hand reaching for the door.

Ready for the move, I stick my foot out, sending him crashing hard to the floor.  Laughing softly, I reach down, fisting my hands in his clothes again, throwing him onto his stomach on the bed. 

Again he tries to escape me, turning onto his back, scrambling back on the bed his eyes wide.  Moving fast, I grab his ankles, pulling back towards me as I climb on the bed.  Straddling his waist, I draw my hand back, slapping him hard even as my other hand goes around his neck.  Squeezing hard, I stare into his eyes as his struggles weaken. “No matter how hard you fight me, I’ll always win Jimmie.  Do you understand me?”  My voice is soft, but cold enough that he shivers underneath me.  I wait for his nod before finally releasing him, watching as his hand goes lightly to his throat.

I slide off the bed, moving over to the dresser.  “Get your clothes off.”  I watch in the mirror as he scrambles to his feet, quickly pulling his fire suit and fireproof clothing off, letting them pool at his feet.  He had been able to shower, unlike myself, before the big media extravaganza.  Yet as I stare at his reflection, I see his body already covered with a light sheen of sweat.  Grinning, I pull a set of handcuffs out of my dresser, turning back to him, again delighting in the fact that he barely even flinches. 

“Can’t have you running away.”  My voice is again soft as I move towards him, backing him up against the edge of the bed. 

“I won’t,” he breathes, his eyes wide, focused on the flashing silver held in my hands.

“I know you won’t.”  I reach out, one small push sending him onto his back on the bed.  Crawling on top of him, I grab his wrist, even as he struggles to pull it away.  Digging my nails into his skin, I growl down at him in warning, snapping the metal tight around one wrist when he stills.  Pulling him close to the headboard, I feed the short chain through it before yanking his other wrist up, kissing him hard as I close the cuff around it as well.  I’ve left him almost no slack, and yet he still tries to pull on the cuffs, searching for some type of leverage that he won’t find. 

I take his lips hard in mine, swallowing his growl even as he dares to make it.  Pulling back, I slap him lightly across the cheek, sliding off the bed to pull my own clothes off.  “Be right back,” I say, throwing a grin over my shoulder at him.  “Don’t go anywhere.”  Chuckling, I step into the bathroom, turning on the water to the shower, knowing that even as I was in there, he was struggling to find a way out of the cuffs.  Struggling even as he knew that there wasn’t a way out, that he would be mine as soon as I came back out.  So I take my time, knowing that every minute will seem like eternity to him.

When I finally step back out of the bathroom, I am thrilled to see him freeze on the bed from where he was twisting his wrists in the cuffs.  “You’re just going to hurt yourself,” I say softly, crawling up to him from the bottom of the bed, hands wrapping around his ankles and pulling him flat. 

“Better than you hurting me,” he growls, glaring at me.

I’m glad to see that he hasn’t lost his fight, lost his fire since the last time we met like this.  I love the way his eyes turn almost black when he glares at me. 

“I can make the hurt feel good, Jimmie,” I whisper, wrapping my hand around him, stroking lightly. 

He groans, letting his head fall back on the bed as his hips come up to meet my strokes.  Curling my fingers, I let my nails drag up his shaft as I lean down, taking a nipple between my teeth.  I flick my tongue across it as his back arches off the bed, biting down hard as my thumb presses into his slit. 

“God,” he gasps, his eyes squeezed closed as his back arches off the bed. 

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes.  “Not quite,” I drawl, repeating my actions with the other nipple.  “But if it makes you feel better to call me that, I have no objections.” 

His hands clench in the cuffs, his breathing turning into panting as he fights to maintain a control that I’m not going to let him keep.  Letting a hand slide lower, I quickly press two fingers deep inside of him, not giving him any warning, grinning as his reaction to arch his back again only drives them in deeper.  He moans, his head thrashing on the bed as I scissor them slowly, twisting them in his body, rubbing against that one spot over and over again.

“What do you want right now Jimmie?” My voice is soft, my actions slow, drawing the pleasure out to a painful peak.  My only answer is a whimper as he tries to press down on my fingers, tries to take them even deeper.

“That’s not an answer Jimmie.”  My voice has become a throaty growl, my own body starting to ache as he writhes beneath me.

“You,” he groans softly.  “Please Greg…”

“Please what?”  I’m not normally one to draw things out for so long, but he’s so pretty beneath me.  I could almost keep him like this forever, just on the edge, not quite enough stimulation to push him over.  But I want to hear him say it, want to hear him beg me for it…and I know he knows it too…has known it since I told him I wanted him to fight me.

“Fuck me.”  The words are soft, barely more than a breath.  So soft that I almost did hear them.  I pull my fingers out, sliding between his legs, hooking my arms under his knees, pushing them back towards his head.  Spreading him wide open beneath me as I press against him, just enough pressure for him to feel me starting to stretch him. 

I lean forward, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard as I push forward into him, hard, fast, again without warning.  And again, he tries to arch on the bed, driving me deeper even as he tries to pull away.  I stroke him quickly, noting how fast the painful whimpers turn to cries of pleasure.  Within moments he’s pushing down into my thrusts.

I bite back my own grown as I feel him clench down hard around me.  Looking up, I find his eyes on mine, a smirk on his face.  Growling, I pull all the way out, pausing before slamming back in hard and rough.  “This is my game…don’t overstep yourself,” I warn, my hand going lightly to his throat again, squeezing in warning.

“Just…trying to-,” he gasps, swallowing his words as I cut his air supply off.  I stroke him fast and hard, waiting until his eyes are pleading with me for air before loosening my fingers.  Digging my thumb into his slit as he gasps for air is all it takes and he’s coming hard, his entire body arching off the bed as he screams his release, driving himself down on me. 

Groaning softly as his body tightens almost painfully around me, I slow my thrusts as he collapses back on the bed, his body trembling.  I pull almost all the way out, holding there as he struggles to catch his breath.  When his eyes open again, I thrust back in hard, aiming directly for that one spot.  I hit it over and over again, again wrapping my fingers around him.  His eyes are wide, his mouth open at the almost painful stimulation so quickly after his release.   

Within moments he’s rock hard and writhing again, little mewling sounds coming out of his throat.  I yank hard at a nipple, triggering his release again, moaning at the hoarse scream torn from his throat as the pleasure overloads his nerves.  This time, I’m unable to resist the clenching heat, and I’m coming hard deep in his body, filling him. 

I collapse forward, barely catching myself on my hands, pressing my lips hard to his as we both gasp for air.  “You…are such a good fuck Johnson,” I pant, rolling off of him to lie on my back.  I smirk at his growl, sliding my hand across his chest, letting my fingers drift down his belly, drawing small circles on his skin. 

I let my hand drift even lower, closer to touching him again, stopping at his whimper.  “Please…not again…” His voice is soft, barely even a whisper as his body tenses up.

“If I wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”  I stare down into his eyes, reading the defeat in his eyes. 

“I…I know…” he whispers, and his voice sounds so close to broken that I back away.  Broken…is not how I want him.  Broken…is no fun to play with. 

“Lucky for you I don’t want to, hmm?” 

The look in his eyes turns almost instantly from despair to gratitude.  “Does that mean…I can go?” 

I feel a stab of irritation at his words, but force it back.  My voice is calm and cold as I reach up to unlock the cuffs.  “Yes, Jimmie.  You can go now.”  I throw the cuffs hard at the far wall, grinning as he’s unable to keep from flinching. 

Sitting up against the headboard, I watch as he moves slowly out of the bed, my eyes catching every detail as he moves around the room.  A wince as he takes small steps, a slight whimper as he bends down to pick up his pants, the biting of his lip as he looks over the bright red marks circling his wrists. 

Within moments he’s dressed and heading for the door, and I know that I can’t let him go without one last parting shot.  “I’ll be…seeing you around Jimmie…and I’ll make sure I’m well rested so I can keep you up for the entire night.”  His shoulders stiffen immediately as I chuckle softly. 

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” His voice is a soft growl, barely above a whisper.

“Do you really think there won’t be?” 

I have to lean forward for his answer his voice is so soft.  “No…I don’t.”

“Good.”  Leaning back on the bed, I watch him fidget in my doorway.  “So…what are you so worried about?  Is it truly that bad?”  And I find that I’m really interested in his answer.

“No, it’s not that bad,” he whispers.  “What I’m worried about is Jeff.”

I find myself nodding in sudden understanding.  “Well…then I’ll be sure to ask Jeff’s permission first next time.”

“He may not give it.”  He turns, moving for the door.  His voice is soft, but it still carries back to me.  “Then again…he just might get a kick out of it.  Might ask to watch.”

I’m already out of bed as I hear the door close, heading for the shower again, my mind turning his last statement over and around.  I glance in the mirror, watching the smirk grow on my face.  “Maybe I’ll just have to see about that…”

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

MystikHeather - mystikheather@cryptoffic.com