Nightmare

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Dark Nights Series : Nightmare

Summary: Sometimes you can push too far.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17, contains semi-nonconsensual m/m slash
SERIES: Dark Nights Series
CHARACTER: Jimmie Johnson, Jeff Gordon alternating POV
CATEGORY: Angst
COMPLETED: January 5, 2005
WORD COUNT: 10,075
DISCLAIMER: 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. ;-)
DEDICATION: To Tiffany and Brian who helped me work this thing out. Couldn’t have done it with out yall.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This picks up immediately after Stormy Night when Jimmie went to Jeff’s house to confront him. Seventh fic in a series. SERIOUS WARNING HERE! This is not a very nice fic. I know I’ve been talking about dark stuff in this series before, but this is what it’s been building to. So if you don’t wanna read semi-nonconsensual sex, you might pass this one up. You can find the other fics in this series here.
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: ~~~ denotes POV shift.
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Charlotte Condo: June 19th, 2002

“Jimmie…”

I wake suddenly, by what I’m not sure, and the fragmented images of my dream still run through my head.

Brown eyes.

Brown eyes full of hurt meeting mine accusingly. Brown eyes full of pain…and it’s all my fault. I turn to get away, but still they follow me, haunt me day after day. Why can’t I get away? Why can’t I make it stop?

I sit up quickly, opening my eyes and my head spins slightly as I blink my eyes to clear my blurry vision. I was dreaming of him again, and as it has been with me lately, it wasn’t a good dream. I try to focus, try to remember what the dream was about this time, but all I see are his hurt-filled eyes staring at me. Just like the other day in the shop.

I shake my head and lean forward, grabbing a half-empty beer bottle from the coffee table and taking a long drink. I grimace as I swallow down the lukewarm alcohol and realize I must have been out of it for awhile. Then I stare at the beer in my hand and think about getting up to get another and remember this was the last of the case. Damn. I can’t believe I went through all of it so fast. Pity I don’t have a beer sponsor like Junior or Rusty. I bet they have the beer delivered directly to the house.

Must be nice, I think. No, I get to be sponsored by Dupont. I guess that’s a good thing if you wanna get your car painted or your house Tyveked. I can’t help but laugh to myself at my train of thought. “Miracles of Science,” what’s that gonna get me? Hell, even Jimmie has it better with…and there it is. I’m thinking about him again. What, did I go 45 seconds this time? Why can’t I get him out of my head? Why won’t he stop haunting me day and night with his emotion-filled deep brown eyes? Why can’t I…

I jump suddenly as I hear my doorbell ring several times. I look up towards the front door and wonder, who could be here now? I slowly push myself to my feet and briefly think about ignoring the door. I run my hand across my eyes and then through my messy hair. I really don’t want to see anyone. Who would come here anyway? Who even knows I’m here?

Robbie.

Robbie knows where I’m living now. Dammit, what the hell does he want that can’t be taken care of tomorrow, or with a phone call? Ok, maybe not a phone call, considering I hardly ever bother to answer my phone anymore, but why would he come all the way out here? As I start to make my way to the door, I feel a slight anger start to build inside as I try to think of why Robbie would be here. Surely he isn’t going to try and lecture me again, we’ve already been through all that, and I thought I made it clear that being my crew chief doesn’t entitle him to butt into my personal life.

I shake my head as I finally reach the door and prepare myself to deal with this again. I’ll just tell him to go home and leave me alone. He can’t tell me what to do. I am the “champion” after all. Who is he to tell me how to live my life? I reach for the door, yanking it open in irritation and look up to meet…

Brown eyes.

Soft brown eyes that shouldn’t be here. Deep, dark eyes that shouldn’t be looking at me that way. Beautiful eyes filled with too much emotion directed right at me.

“Jimmie…”

~~~

I immediately know he’s been drinking, as if the beer bottle dangling from his fingers isn’t indication enough. He reeks of stale cigarettes. He doesn’t look like he’s shaved since the weekend, and his hair is a mess. I take in his rumpled appearance and briefly wonder if I woke him up. But none of these things matter. The only thing that matters is the pain I see reflected at me from his bloodshot blue eyes.

“Jeff…”

His name is just a whisper on my lips. I look at him leaning on the open door and want nothing more than to take him in my arms and make all his pain go away. But judging by the look on his face I don’t think that’s going to happen. He’s just standing there, one hand on the doorframe making no move to invite me inside.

It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving. No matter what he says, I’m not leaving.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says looking down and not meeting my eyes, and I can’t help but think how “broken” he looks. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in a week, and for the hundredth time I wonder what’s wrong, what it is that always seems to haunt him. But I’m not going to let him run me off, not tonight.

“Why not,” I shoot back at him and I see his head snap up as surprise registers across his face at my words. I guess he didn’t expect me question him. It’s not like I ever have before. But this isn’t just about what he wants anymore. This is about us, and it’s about time he dealt with it.

I watch as his mouth opens like he’s going to answer me, but then he seems to be at a loss for words. I see no trace of the strong, confident Jeff I know so well. Right now he looks so lost and confused and it’s killing me. Why is he making this so difficult? Why won’t he just invite me in?

“Jimmie…” he says looking away from me again as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I just…I just wasn’t expecting company,” he continues finally looking up to meet my eyes. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Right. I guess it’s a little difficult to drink yourself into unconsciousness when you have to entertain guests, I think. But I bite back the words. I’m not here to make him mad. I just want him to talk to me, but that’s not going to happen while I’m still standing here on his porch barely out of the rain. “Jeff,” I start to say, and he glances my direction again. “I don’t know if you noticed,” I say as I motion to the downpour behind me. “It’s really pouring out here. Do you mind if I come in until it lets up a little?”

At my words he finally seems to look at me and really see me. I can tell, as I shiver again at the rain running down my neck, that he hadn’t even noticed the rain. I see the moment the realization finally hits him and he shakes his head saying, “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.” He takes a step back from the door and says softly, “Come in, Jimmie.”

I try again to shake off some of the rain running down my arms and step inside. He looks at me for just a moment before turning to walk down the small hall, which I assume leads to the living room, without a word. This is not the reception I was hoping for. I feel my heart sink in my chest as he begins to move away from me again, but I shake it off. Was I really expecting him to welcome me with open arms as hard as he tried to keep me from finding him? I shake my head as I close the door behind me and follow him down the short hall.

Just as I thought, the hallway opens into a good-sized living room. He turns to me as I step into the room and motions to the couch as he says, “Sit down, if you want. I’ll find something to dry you off.”

I watch him in silence as he slowly moves across the room and disappears down a hallway. This just doesn’t seem like him at all. He’s so…resigned, and I can’t even begin to understand why. Finally I force myself to tear my eyes away from where he walked out and look around the dimly lit room. The only light coming into the room seems to be from the street lights out front, made diffuse from the rain, and a small lamp in the corner. The room is full of long shadows formed from boxes stacked along the wall. I guess he hasn’t really gotten around to unpacking much yet.

I move over to a large, leather recliner at the end of the couch, sit on the edge and look around some more. I see several bottles, as I expected, littering the coffee table and floor by the couch, along with the requisite ashtray filled to overflowing again. I guess beer is the beverage of choice tonight--probably a good thing too, since had it been whiskey or tequila again I doubt I’d have been able to wake him.

I look around, taking in the sober surroundings and have to think, is this all he does? Just sit around in the dark, smoking, drinking, brooding…over what? What is so horrible that he does this to himself? He didn’t used to do this all the time. I know that. We used to go out and have fun. We used to go to games and clubs, anything to get away from the pressure of the track. Hell, he even got me to swim with sharks once! Although, now that I think about it, he really did freak me out with how close he seemed to want to get to them. Does he have a death wish? I mean, if anything, it looks like he’s just trying to kill himself slowly, and I still don’t know why.

What have I gotten myself into, I think, as I prop my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands. Am I even doing the right thing? Should I have even come here? I shake my head at the obvious despair all around me. What if I can’t help? What if I just make things worse?

~~~

Jimmie. Jimmie’s here. In my living room.

Why? Why is he here? Why would he come here uninvited? Hell, how did he even find me? I made sure not to tell him where I was staying. I didn’t want him to see me this way again. I didn’t want to have to face him. I didn’t want to have to talk to him. What on earth am I going to say to him? What does he want?

I shake my head as I finally make it back to my room. I know what he wants. He wants what I can’t give him. Why is he pushing this? Why wouldn’t he just leave things alone? Why did I even answer the door? And what was I thinking letting him inside? But what else could I do with him standing there shivering from the rain? I couldn’t turn him away. I’ve never been able to turn him away. The best I’ve been able to manage is to avoid him, and that alone is killing me.

I miss him.

I miss him terribly. I miss all the time we used to spend together. I miss the way he could always make me smile, no matter how lost and depressed I would get. I miss the way his eyes would sparkle when he laughed, and how they would always soften when he looked at me. But then he had to let things change. Then he had to look at me the way he did in New York, holding nothing back, revealing everything with a single look. Didn’t he understand the rules? Didn’t he know that was crossing a line I couldn’t cross? Why couldn’t he just let things stay the way they were?

I slowly make my way across my dark bedroom and into the bathroom, pausing only to flip on the harsh fluorescent lights. I squint against the glare and start to reach for the towel hanging from the wall, but freeze as my gaze passes over the evidence of my self-destruction.

“Shit…”

I immediately let go of the towel and cross over the sink, grabbing the bottle of peroxide and antibacterial cream, shoving them under the sink. He can’t find out…he can’t know. I look down at the counter and slowly pick up the thin blade I’ve become almost as addicted to as the alcohol, and quickly open the drawer by the sink, tossing it inside. Then I rest my hands on the edge of the counter and take a deep breath, trying to clear my head, but the spinning won’t stop.

What would he do if he knew what I’ve let myself become? What would he do if he knew how much I’ve fallen apart? I slowly run my right hand over my upper arm, knowing what lies beneath the soft fabric of my shirt. Why am I doing this? I told myself I would quit, that I would stop being such a freak. But somehow, some nights, all the promises I make myself seem to fly out the window. Something comes over me in those moments, and I can’t seem to fight it--I don’t even know why I would want to.

Then I finally “snap out of it,” and I start all over again, promising myself it won’t happen again. But it always does. And I don’t know how to stop. I feel like I’m drowning, and there’s no one there to help. I have a feeling Jimmie would…but I can’t let him know. I couldn’t bear it if he knew who I really was. He knows too much already.

I slide my hand down my arm and am suddenly thankful for the unseasonably cool weather. At least he won’t be wondering why I’m wearing long sleeves. I have to stop this. I let out a long sigh and finally look up, taking in the stranger that still looks back at me from the mirror. He looks like hell. Bloodshot blue eyes, hair a mess, dark circles under his…my eyes.

“Shit.” I look awful…and he saw me this way. I shake my head and turn on the water, wetting my hands before running them through my hair, trying to make myself look more presentable. It doesn’t help much. I manage to smooth my hair down a bit, but it’s still greasy and dirty. Why didn’t he tell me he was coming? Because I would have told him not to, I answer my own question in my mind. He knew I would have avoided him, so he just showed up.

“Dammit,” I swear under my breath as the first bit of anger begins to take hold of me. I try to push it away, as I shut off the water, and turn to grab the towel I started to take earlier. I dry off my hands and then take a deep breath. I have to go back in there…and there’s nothing I want to do less. But I have no choice. He took that choice away the minute he got here. I grit my teeth as I feel my whole world spinning out of control and again have to push back my anger. I don’t want to fight with him. But I don’t want to talk to him either. What am I going to do?

I force myself to shut off the light and make my way out of the bathroom. As I walk across my dark bedroom, I realize I’m all but dragging my feet and wringing the towel in my hands. I stop at the door to the hallway and force myself to stop it. What am I really afraid of? It’s only Jimmie. What’s he going to do? It’s not like he can force me to talk. All I have to do is stay in control--the way I always do. If he tries to talk about something I don’t want to, I’ll just change the subject--I’ve gotten really good at that lately. I just won’t admit it. I won’t admit anything, and maybe I can get him to leave.

I take a deep breath and stand up a little straighter. I can do this. I’m a master at this game after all. I mastered the art of being someone else a long time ago--of being what people expect. It’s become second nature to me now. I’ll just go in there, flash a winning smile, and take control. What’s he really going to do anyway? I’ll just make him believe everything is fine, the way I always have. It’s just Jimmie…nothing to be afraid of.

~~~

My head snaps up, the instant I feel him come back into the room, and I see the difference in him immediately. The broken, resigned look is gone, replaced by the eternal confidence I’ve always expected from him--and it’s all bullshit. It’s all a lie and I know it. And it really pisses me off.

Does he really think he can lie to me and I won’t even notice? Does he really think I can’t tell the difference? I know him. I really know him, and this act doesn’t fool me anymore. He may be able to fool the rest of the world, but not me, not anymore. I see the real him, the one who so desperately needs someone. The one who’s hurting, the one who’s falling apart, the one who wants me--and I’m not going to play this game anymore. This ends tonight.

I feel my anger rising and I do nothing to stop it. How dare he try and play me? Does he think that little of me? That I wouldn’t even notice? He crosses the room, smile on his face, and as he holds out a towel to me he says in his smooth way, “Sorry, Jimmie. I was a little bit out of it. I just woke up.”

I take the towel, barely able to even look at him. He’s treating me like a guest, someone who has to be impressed, and I’m not going to allow it. How dare he get all impersonal with me…me? I roughly run the towel over my arms and back of my neck, drying myself off, before tossing the towel aside. I hear him start to speak again and his words only serve to fuel my building anger.

“Can I get you anything? I’ve got…”

“Stop it, Jeff,” I say harshly, and I look up to meet his eyes. I see his eyes widen slightly at my sharp words, and he takes half a step back.

“Jimmie, what?” he starts to say, and I cut him off again.

“Stop pretending. Stop treating me like a stranger. Stop pretending like everything is fine. Drop the act, Jeff,” I say as I stand and look into his eyes.

His eyes narrow slightly at my words, and for a moment I think he’s finally going to get mad, finally going to stop hiding behind his perfect little act. But instead I see him push everything back, the way he always does, and give me a confused look, saying with slow words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmie.”

I grit my teeth as I feel my anger rise even more and it’s all I can do to keep from shouting at him. Instead I stand up straighter, trying for the first time to intimidate him as I step closer and look down on him. I’ve never done this before, never even thought of doing this before. But I try to use every bit of my height as an advantage right now, trying to do something, anything to break that perfect façade he tries so hard to hide behind. Maybe if I push him far enough, I can actually get him to react, actually get him to be real.

“I’m talking about the way you pretend everything is fine when it so obviously isn’t,” I say as I gesture to the dark room around me. “I’m talking about how you’ve been avoiding me, every chance you get. Damn it, Jeff, you didn’t even tell me where you were living!”

I watch, as for a moment he seems to think about my words, but then he looks back at me and shakes his head as he says, “Look, I just wanted some time alone. That’s all.” Then he looks away, moving backwards again and continues, “I wasn’t avoiding you. I see you all the time, Jimmie. And as for not telling you about this place…I thought I did. I guess I just forgot.”

“Bullshit,” I say sharply and his head snaps quickly back around to look at me. I can see the surprise clearly written on his face as he starts to answer me, but I don’t give him a chance. “You didn’t forget to tell me, Jeff. You were hiding from me, and I want to know why. You won’t even be in the same room alone with me since I went to New York.” I take a step towards him and say, “Why won’t you talk to me anymore? You say you want to be alone…” I glance around the room before I continue, “Why? So you can sit in the dark and drink yourself unconscious? What else are you doing, Jeff?”

I see him flinch at my last question, and instantly regret being so harsh. But it’s too late to take it back, so I try my best to stand my ground. I watch as his eyes finally change, growing cold with anger, as his jaw tightens and he clenches his fists at his sides. I feel fear squeeze my heart at his unspoken response and hope that I haven’t totally crossed the line. But what else can I do? I can’t let this continue. It’s killing us both.

Cold blue eyes turn to meet mine, and I can see he’s stopped trying to hide his feelings. He glares at me, before finally answering, “What I do in my free time is none of your business, Jimmie.” He takes a step towards me, and I reflexively take a step back. How is it he can suddenly be so intimidating? I feel myself bite my bottom lip as he continues, “I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to butt into my personal life, criticizing what I do or don’t do.”

I watch as he clenches his jaw again, obviously thinking about what he’s going to say next. I’ve never seen him this angry before, and I don’t understand it. Why is he fighting me? Why is he pushing me away? Have I misread everything? Finally he speaks again with soft, firm words, leaving no room for argument. “Maybe you should just go,” he says as he turns and starts walking towards the front door, and I actually start to follow him.

But then I realize what I’m doing. I’m letting him push me away again, with no explanation. I can’t let him do this. Not again.

“No,” I say firmly as I stop in my tracks. He turns around to look at me, and once again I see surprise clearly written across his face.

“What did you say?” he asks disbelieving.

“I said no, Jeff,” I repeat, moving closer to him. “I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving until you talk to me. Until you finally admit what’s going on between us.”

~~~

His words ring through my ears, and for a moment I think I must be hearing things. Surely he didn’t say what I think he did. Surely he isn’t really going to push this. But as he stands there in front of me, crossing his arms over his chest as he juts his chin slightly upwards, I know I heard him right. He’s not leaving, and in my condition, I doubt I could even force him to.

Fuck. Why is he doing this? What does he expect me to say? Why won’t he just go? I feel like I have my back pressed against the wall, and I don’t like it. I don’t like not being the one in control. I don’t like him standing there, with his eyes boring into me, waiting for an answer I can’t give him. What right does he have to do this to me?

I shake my head, then glare at him again, letting all my frustrations that have been plaguing in for so long, come out as anger. “Fine,” I tell him shortly. “Stay. Go. I don’t care. But I’ve had enough of this conversation,” I say as I step back into the living room and start to walk around him to get back to the kitchen. I really need a drink, and at this point I don’t even care that he’s here. But as I reach him, and begin to move around him, he steps to the side blocking my path.

“What?” I shout in frustration between gritted teeth, as I look up to him again. But he just stands there, unmoving, not taking his eyes off of me. “What do you want, Jimmie?”

“The truth,” he says simply, and I try to hide the fear that runs through me at his words. How can I possibly tell him the truth? And what truth do I tell him? The fact that I can’t get him out of my head, and want nothing more than to pin him up against the wall right now and kiss him senseless? Or the fact that there is something broken, and wrong inside me--that I could never give him everything he wants, everything he deserves. I don’t even know how to begin to feel anymore, much less--dare I even think it--love. No. There’s no way I can tell him the truth. How could anything good possibly come from the truth?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him again, as I pray he will finally just let this go. Doesn’t he see this is killing me? God, why can’t he just let things be?

“Dammit, Jeff, yes you do,” he says and I can hear what almost sounds like anguish in his voice. I watch as he uncrosses his arms, and begins wringing his hands the way he only does when he’s really agitated, and I want to kick myself for putting him through this…but I can deal with that later. Right now I just focus on him, hoping desperately he’ll just drop this.

“Are you telling me you didn’t see the way I looked at you in New York--the way I’ve looked at you ever since? I know you did. I know you do. I know I saw the recognition in your eyes.” He stares at me for a long moment and then turns, taking a few steps from me. He runs his fingers through his hair, takes a deep breath, then turns back to me and moves towards me, gesturing with his hands as he speaks again. “Are you really telling me that you don’t feel anything for me beyond friendship? That it’s all been in my head? Are you seriously going to stand there, looking at me like that, and tell me that you don’t want me…that you never did?” He closes his eyes briefly, then opens them slowly to meet mine again, and says softly, “Tell me the truth, Jeff. Do you want me?”

It’s everything I can do to keep from instantly replying, “God yes,” to his softly spoken question. But I don’t. Instead I stare at him for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out between us, and watch as he chews on his lower lip, waiting for my response. I swallow hard, hating myself for what I’m about to do. But what choice do I really have? I look up to him, meeting his deep, dark eyes, swirling with want, desire and need. And I lie.

“No, Jimmie. I don’t.”

That’s all I can say. That’s all I can manage, while looking into his eyes. I feel a part of me die, as I see pain and hurt flash across his face, and for a moment I’m certain he’s going to leave. That he’s going to walk away, out of my life…and I won’t do a thing to stop him. But I know, as soon as that door closes behind him, I will surely die. That thought alone is almost enough to make me tell him the truth. But he’s better off with out me. He’s better off never knowing the truth. It’s better for us both if it ends this way. I should have known this would happen eventually. I should have known he would have to have more than I’m able to give. But I couldn’t help hoping that somehow, maybe, I could keep him in my life. How will I survive with out him?

I watch as he looks down, and I hear his sudden intake of breath. Please, Jimmie, just go. Don’t make this harder on us both. Don’t force me to hurt you more than I already have. Please…

Suddenly he looks up, meeting my eyes again, and I’m shocked to see the hurt and sadness is gone from his eyes. All I see is strength and determination shining from those beautiful brown eyes and it causes me to catch my breath.

“You’re lying,” is all that he says, and I’m at a complete loss for words. I never expected him to fight me on this. I never expected him to oppose me. Suddenly he leans forward, putting his hands on either side of my face, and presses his lips to mine. He’s aggressive, and insistent, as he moves his lips over mine and slides one hand behind my neck to pull me to him. I feel his tongue, wet and warm, as he pushes it against my lips, forcing me to allow him to deepen the kiss, and for an instant I can’t fight him.

For an instant I let myself get lost in the only thing I ever really wanted. I give in, as his tongue moves against mine and I taste him for the first time, and it’s nothing I ever imagined. It’s more. So much more than I ever dreamed. Every dream, every fantasy is absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. I lean against him, taking everything I can get, memorizing every single detail, every touch, every taste, because this can’t happen again. I can’t let it. I’ve already gone too far.

I put my hands against him, briefly letting myself feel the hard planes of his chest through his damp T-shirt, and as he moans into my mouth, it’s all I can do to choke back a sob. This can’t happen. I can’t let it. But, God, I want to. Finally I know I’ve let things go on too long, and I push him forcefully back, causing his back to hit the wall behind him. He looks at me with wide eyes, full of shock and disbelief, and I know I have to really make him believe this. I take a breath, trying to prepare myself for what I have to do, and I hate myself all the more.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I shout at him, as I try and make my eyes hard and cold. But what if he sees through me again?

“Jeff…” he starts to say, shaking his head and I think for the moment I’ve got him convinced.

I do my best to ignore the wide, hurt-filled brown eyes staring at me in disbelief as I continue. “Damn it, Jimmie, what are you trying to do? What are you…”

“Stop it,” he says softly, looking down and not meeting my eyes.

I bite my lip for a moment at the lost, pain-filled sound of his voice, and wonder how I’m ever going to survive once this night from hell is over. “Stop what, Jimmie?” I say, trying my best to keep the emotion out of my voice. “You’re the one that kissed me. What is it…”

“And don’t for one second tell me you didn’t want it,” he says sharply as his head snaps up to look at me. Blazing brown eyes meet mine, and I have to inhale a sharp breath in surprise. He looks like he’s trembling with anger as he continues in a hard, cold voice, “I told you to stop pretending, to drop the fucking act. Is that really so hard for you? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I feel my own anger begin to build again at his words. I didn’t ask for this. I did everything I could to keep this from ever happening. He’s the one who pushed the issue. What right does he have to get mad at me? What did he expect? I clench my fists at my sides as I finally respond, glaring back at him, “What’s wrong with me? You’re the one who showed up here uninvited. You’re the one who kissed me. I told you to leave. Now why don’t you just…”

“Shut up, Jeff,” he shouts at me and I actually take an involuntary step back at the rage I see in his eyes. But then I feel my own rage burning inside. This is all his fault. He shouldn’t have come here. But before I can say a word, he continues as he moves toward me, “How stupid do you think I am, Jeff? How blind? Do you really think I haven’t seen the way you look at me, when you think I’m not looking? Do you really think I forgot the way you all but devoured me with your eyes in that night club, after talking to that guy who could have been my twin?” He moves even closer to me, getting right in my face. “Did you really think I didn’t notice how you would take any chance you could to find a reason to touch me? The way you pressed yourself up against me in victory lane? It’s not just me, and screw you for trying to make me think it is.” He glares at me again before he continues, “Why won’t you give in? Why won’t you give me what I want? What we both want?”

White-hot rage runs through my veins at his words. How dare he throw everything in my face? My head is spinning with the angry, lust-filled look he’s shooting me, and I can barely think from my own desire and the alcohol still clouding my mind. He’s pressed right up against me, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body, see the way he’s breathing hard in anger, and my mind shuts down. I look up into his hungry eyes and everything hits me at once.

Anger, frustration, rage, passion, need, want, hunger, loneliness, despair, desire, pain, hurt, longing, fury, craving, lust…and I can’t take it anymore.

I let my anger and the raw, carnal passion I’ve had for him and held back for so long take me over completely, as I put my hands against his chest and push him back against the wall again. But this time I move with him.

I look into his deep brown eyes and see them soften, as he meets my wild gaze. “Don’t you understand?” he asks me, as I barely contain the storm of emotions raging inside. “Don’t you realize that I’m in l…”

I crash my lips to his instantly, cutting off words I know I can’t even begin to deal with, as he hits the wall hard again. Lips, teeth, tongues duel fiercely as I press him against the wall, taking everything I can get. Need, want, desire are all that run through my mind, as I can’t think, only act.

I run my hands roughly over his body, needing to feel him everywhere at once. My hands find his waist, and I push his shirt up, raking my nails over his skin. Need, hunger, lust. I reach one hand down, stroking his rock hard member through his jeans. Passion, desire, want. Need him. Want him. Have to have him. Will have him. Is all that runs through my mind, as all conscious thought shuts down and all I do is feel.

~~~

What the hell?

He’s pushed me up against the wall and is kissing me and, oh God, I hope he never stops. He tastes of stale cigarettes and beer, but for me it’s complete heaven.

It’s Jeff.

He attacks my lips with a ferocity I’ve never known. It feels like he wants to devour me whole, and I’m more than willing to let him. This kiss is so different from the first, bruising in its intensity. It’s pure hunger and want. Never have I felt so much passion and raw heat. Never have I felt so completely wanted, and it would be so easy to just give in and melt into him. But I want it to be real. I want this to mean something. I want to know what he’s trying to do now. Why the sudden change? Why is he doing this?

I try to push him back, running my hands across his chest. But he just pushes me back against the wall harder, never stopping his assault on my lips. I want this so much. I want him so much. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, I want this. But I need to know…I need to understand what this all means. I try again to break the kiss, but his hands are moving all over my body and I can barely even form a thought. He’s touching me…everywhere, and there’s no way I can make him stop.

I feel his hands find the bottom of my shirt, and I moan deeply as I feel him rake his nails over my skin. His touch is pure fire, and I feel my entire body shaking with desire. Why, why did he make us wait so long? Why couldn’t he give in to me before? It feels like an electric current is burning under my skin, and I don’t know how much I can take. But I’ll take it all. Everything he offers and more.

Suddenly I feel him reach down, rubbing me hard through my jeans, and it’s almost too much. I buck against him instantly, and moan low in the back of my throat again as he continues his assault on my mouth. I reach out for him blindly, needing to touch him, to feel him. I’ll give him anything and everything…he doesn’t even have to ask.

I run my hands over him again, but instead of trying to push him away this time, I pull him closer. He can’t be close enough. Then I feel him reach down, grabbing my wrists and pinning them against the wall by my head. He finally breaks the kiss and presses against me harder as he moves to attack my neck with his hot mouth. I groan again, closing my eyes, as he grinds his hips against mine, and I realize this is all moving way too fast. But how on earth can I stop him?

Finally he releases my wrists and slides his hands down my arms and along my sides. I feel my body shiver with desire at his touch, as he grinds against me again, and I know this isn’t going to last. His warm tongue against my throat, as he kisses along my neck, and his nails raking across the skin of my bare stomach again are almost more than I can take. I’ve wanted him for so damn long.

I feel him grip the waistband of my jeans, trying to unfasten them, and I again want to slow things down. He seems so desperate, frantic, like I’m going to disappear. Doesn’t he realize I’m not going anywhere? That I’ll never go anywhere? I’ve been his for so long--longer than I think even I’ve realized. I’ll be here all night. Hell, as long as he wants. He doesn’t have to be so rushed and desperate.

I reach down, gripping his wrist in my hand, and I hear him make a small noise of frustration. But I’m not planning on making him wait long. I just want to slow his frenzied pace. I try again to push him back, just a little, but as before he doesn’t budge. Instead of trying again, I slide down his body, rubbing mine against him as I go to my knees in front of him. Then I reach up, slowly unfastening his jeans and slipping my hand inside.

I look up to him, the instant I take his hard, throbbing length in my hand, and watch as he throws his head back, moaning long and low. I can’t help the broad grin that crosses my face as I see him losing control…all because of me. Encouraged by his response to my touch, I pull him from the confines of his jeans and smile again at the strangled sounds of pleasure he makes. I feel anticipation and a little nervousness wash over me at the thought of what I’m about to do, as this is all so completely new to me--but I would do anything in the world for him. Anything to make him happy.

I do my best to push back my slight anxiety as I lean forward, running the tip of my tongue over the length of his smooth skin, and I’m instantly rewarded with another moan of pleasure. His actions spur me on, causing me to be a little bolder, and I take the tip of his hard length into my mouth, circling my tongue around the warm skin.

I jump slightly as I hear his hands slap against the wall above me, as he leans forward, putting his weight on them. Then I pull back slightly, letting him slip from my lips, as I run my tongue over his length, before taking the tip into my mouth once more. His desire-filled groans of pleasure send heat coursing through my body, and I take him in a little more, running my tongue across his silky skin as I continue to tease and build his pleasure.

~~~

Warm, hot, wet flesh. Need more. So damn hot. Want more. Teasing, tormenting, sweet torture. Can’t take much more.

The feel of his hot mouth on me is almost more than I can take, but the teasing is even worse. I need to hold back. I should hold back, but as he runs his tongue over me again I know I can’t. I need more, and I thrust forward, causing him to take me in a little more. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m panting, and my arms are shaking from exertion, and I can’t take it anymore. All I feel is his--Jimmie’s--warm, slick tongue against my skin, hot lips gently sucking and caressing me, and I have to have more. I push my hips forward again, thrusting further down his throat, and I can’t think, only feel. My mind has completely shut down, and the only thing in the world at this moment is his mouth doing such wonderful things to me.

I feel him pull back a little, and I reach down, threading my fingers through his hair as I push forward again. So hot. So damn good. My fingers involuntarily tighten, gripping his hair, as my blinding passion grows and grows and I thrust into his mouth again.

Can’t hold back. Need him. Want him. Need more. Want more.

“Oh God, Jimmie…”

~~~

I try and pull back as he suddenly thrusts forward, causing me to choke and gag, but then his fingers are in my hair, holding me still. I close my eyes, trying to give him everything he wants. I want to please him more than anything, but this is all so new, and so rough, and so not what I expected.

I feel tears prick my eyes as he pulls hard at my hair, and I reach my hands up, putting them on his hips, attempting again to slow his frantic pace. But he doesn’t slow, only thrusts harder, and I do all I can to keep from choking again. Then, suddenly, I hear his voice, rough with passion, calling my name, and nothing else matters.

I’m with Jeff, finally with Jeff, and even if this isn’t what I imagined in my dreams, it’s him. And there’s nowhere else I want to be. I try to push away thoughts of how I wish things were and concentrate on the moment. There will be plenty of time for long and slow later. Right now I can feel the need and want and desperation coming off of him in waves, and I’ll do anything to give him what he needs--because all I need his him.

~~~

More. Need more. Want more. Want everything. Want him. Completely.

But not like this.

I want all of him. I want to feel his hot body underneath mine. I want to feel him shudder and shake beneath me, lost to this raging inferno consuming us both.

I’m still leaning heavily on one hand against the wall as I finally pull away from him. The loss of his lips around me fills me with a sudden emptiness that I have to fill…now.

I reach down, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to his feet, and see a brief smile cross his face as I turn him and push him towards the back of the couch. I need everything. I need Jimmie.

I follow him instantly, sliding my arms around his waist as I press myself against his back. I hear a low moan escape from his lips as I slip my hand underneath his shirt, raking my nails across his skin. He throws his head back, eyes closed, as I run my hands over his body, reaching for the button of his jeans. I quickly unfasten them and shove them down to his knees. Then I press up against him again, moaning as my hard length comes into contact with bare skin, and I know I can’t hold out much more.

I reach around him again, finally taking the smooth skin of his throbbing erection in my hand, and pump him quickly, feeling him shudder with desire in my arms. But I can’t hold back anymore. My head is spinning, with lust, desire and alcohol, and I need to feel him completely. I need to be inside him.

I need Jimmie. Now.

~~~

When he first pulled me to my feet, I was hoping he was going to take me to his bedroom…just like in my dreams. That I could take him in my arms, and worship his body with my own. But that’s obviously not what he has planned, and I have to push back my disappointment, as he moves me over to the couch.

I feel sudden anticipation mixed with a little fear as my hands come into contact with the back of the black leather couch. This isn’t how this is supposed to happen. I’ve never done this before. Hell, I don’t even know what to expect, but
I didn’t want it like this, so rushed and desperate. But as he slides his arms around my waist, running his hands over bare skin, all thoughts flee from my mind, as all I feel is the burning fire of his touch.

I feel my entire body trembling as his nails rake across the taunt skin of my stomach, and I can’t control the moan that slips from my lips. I’ve never felt so alive, so turned on, so fucking on fire, but I knew it would be like this. I knew it would be absolutely amazing. How could it be anything else with him?

I feel him suddenly reach for the waist of my jeans, unfastening them, and quickly pushing them down. I feel the same anxiety in the pit of my stomach as I feel the flat of his palm against the small of my back, pushing me forward, bending me over the black leather that I grip tightly with my hands. But then I feel his hands roaming over my skin again, reaching around to take me in his hand, and blinding desire overwhelms me again as he begins to stroke me quickly.

My passion rises instantly at his touch, completely uncontrollable, and I find myself moaning his name in a voice I barely recognize as my own. I know I’ll never last if he keeps touching me that way, but there’s no way in the world I can even think of begging him to stop. I want him. I want everything.

Suddenly I feel his hand leave me, moving to my hips, as he slides both of his hands over my sides and then over my bare ass and I tremble in anticipation. I feel his hard shaft pressing against me, and the nervousness returns. But I want this. I want him badly.

~~~

Hot, blinding, intense, raging lust courses through me as I touch his skin, and I know in this moment he is mine totally and completely. I feel him trembling beneath me, and it fuels the burning inferno inside me. I need him. He’s mine. I need to feel him.

Burning, blinding, fire. Raging, building, desire. Want, lust, need.

Want.

Take.

Have.

~~~

I feel one hand push up the back of my shirt, running over my back, and I shiver as his hand is followed by his tongue, leaving a wet trail up my spine. I lose myself to the sensation, to the liquid fire running through my veins at his touch. He is my world. My everything. I shudder again as his hands find my hips. I feel him pressing against me and all I can do I is moan with desire as I thrust my hips against the black leather, seeking friction for my own raging lust.

I feel his length, rubbing against the back of my legs, and I hear his moan of desire, causing me to buck back against him. Yes, yes, yes. It runs through my head as a mantra as I pant and shake from desire. I wonder if he even knows how much I…

The scream is torn from my lips, sharp pain lancing through me as he forces himself into me suddenly. I grip the back of the couch with white knuckles as I bite my lip and blink back the wetness pricking my eyes. This isn’t right. This isn’t how this is supposed to be.

I feel him pull back and thrust into me again, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the throbbing pain radiating through me. Why? I don’t understand. This can’t be right. This has to be a mistake, I think as I drop my head forward, biting harder into my lip.

His hands are bruising my hips as he pounds into me, and I can hear his obvious sounds of pleasure, as I try to keep from falling apart. This is as so very, very wrong.

But suddenly he thrusts into me harder, and a sharp bolt of desire runs through me, mixed with the fading pain, shocking me enough to cause my eyes to snap open. Then I feel him pull back and thrust forward the same way, and the pleasure fills me once again.

Again, again, again. And I finally feel my desire begin to slowly build again, even through the dull pain. Finally I’m pushing back against him as he pounds into me, and I’m shaking from lust and confusion and hurt. Why does he have to be so rough?

~~~

Hot, tight, amazing. Perfection. Heat, desire, want, need.

Everything I’ve been missing for so long. For an instant the endless emptiness inside is filled.

Lust, passion, fire, building, out of control.

I can’t hold back. I’m lost. Drowning. Sinking. Losing myself completely.

The world is this moment, full of emotion, desire and need.

Pounding, building, rising, faster, harder, more, more.

More.

~~~

He increases his pace behind me and thrusts harder, pushing me forward into the back of the couch. My entire body is throbbing with much needed release and I don’t want this to end.

I grip the couch tighter, my body rigid with want and desire. I feel heat spreading through me, and I know I’m close. Please, please don’t stop.

But suddenly I hear him let out a ragged scream behind me, and feel him slump forward against me, draping himself over my back. As he finally goes still, I realize I’m still trembling with unfulfilled lust, and it’s all I can do to keep a sob from escaping my lips.

I’m filled with hurt, physical and emotional. Doesn’t he even notice? My body trembles with want and need, and I don’t understand. Why would he do this? The confusion overwhelms me, and as he finally pulls from me, all I can do is look over my shoulder to meet his glassy blue eyes.

~~~

Unbelievable, amazing, perfection…

Hurt, sadness, pain, confusion…staring right at me.

I see his pain-filled brown eyes meet mine, and the entire world comes crashing down on me in an instant--I see everything I was too blind to see before.

The way he pushed against me as I pinned him to the wall. How he tried to pull away as I roughly thrust my cock down his throat. The way I gripped and pulled his hair giving him no escape and then drug him to the couch, forcing him over the back. And his scream, oh God, his scream.

My eyes go wide as the realization of what I’ve done finally washes over me, hitting me like a freight train. He’s never done this before. And I was harsh, and violent, and cruel. My God, I forced myself on him. I hurt him. I see the pain in his eyes, the unshed tears he’s blinking back.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

I raped him.

I raped Jimmie.

I have to get out of here.

~~~

He’s shaking his head, and no longer looking at me as he backs away, a look of complete horror on his face. Fear and dread run through me instantly. What did I do? What did I do wrong? Does he think this was all a mistake? Why is he moving away from me? Please. Please, Jeff, don’t run away from me again. Don’t shut me out. Please don’t shut me out now.

I push myself to standing and pause to pull my jeans up around my hips, wincing as the unexpected pain lances through me, and I see that he sees it, as his face goes pale and his eyes go wide. That’s when I realize, he didn’t mean to hurt me. But he did. He did hurt me and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why he’s so out of control, why he let everything happen this way. It didn’t have to be like this.

“Jeff,” I say as I start to take a step towards him, and wince again. But at my movements, the horrified look on his face becomes worse, and he starts backing away again.

“Jimmie,” it’s nothing more than a whisper. “I’m so… Oh, God… I didn’t mean…” he stammers as he shakes his head and fastens his jeans.

“Jeff,” I try again and reach out to him, but he flinches, jumping away from my touch, and I feel more pain from his reaction than from anything else that has happened tonight.

“No, no, no…” he mutters as he looks down, closing his eyes and shaking his head. I start to move towards him again, but at the first sound of my approach his head snaps up, and he meets my gaze with what I can only describe as scared, wide eyes. “I’m sorry, oh God, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to…” He cuts off the instant I touch his arm with my hand, trying desperately to reach him, trying desperately to make him understand that I need him, that I don’t want him to go. He meets my gaze for only a second before jumping backwards, shaking his head even more violently.

“Jeff, don’t…” I start to say, but he just moves quickly away from me again.

“No, I can’t. Oh, God, Jimmie… I’m sorry… I can’t… I have to…” is all he says as he gives me one last look, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Pain. Pure, unadulterated pain is all I see in his eyes. More pain than I’ve ever known, or could ever even begin to imagine or hope to understand, and I’m stunned. In that instant, I want nothing more than to finally find a way to reach him, a way to make things better. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To help him, to be with him, but that’s when I realize he’s still not going to give me that chance. Cold dread runs through me as I see it before it happens, as I watch him turn and bolt for the door.

“Jeff, no!” I cry, and start to chase him. But my rapid movement forces me to wince in pain again, and I have to catch myself on the couch at the sudden, sharp pain. How did this all go so horribly, horribly wrong? I hear the front door slam and finally everything hits me at once.

This never should have happened.

Not like this. Why did I force the issue? Why did I come here? He tried to make me stop. He tried to push me away--why, I still don’t know. Maybe he was afraid of me getting too close--he’s been shutting everyone off--but too close to what? To what’s really going on? To the truth? To him? He didn’t used to be this way. I just don’t understand. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be…

I shake my head as my knees finally buckle underneath me and I fall bonelessly to the floor, feeling the world shatter around me. I lean back against the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Then I let my forehead rest against my knees as I bite my lip, and remember everything. The anger, the hurt, the desperation and finally the unbelievable pain in his blue eyes as he left, no, ran from me.

I have to hold it together. I can’t break down. I can’t. He still needs me…

But it’s all too much I realize as I feel hot tears sliding down my face. He should still be here. With me. It shouldn’t have happened like this. He should be in my arms right now, not…who knows where, doing God knows what. What is wrong with him? I only wanted to help. I only wanted to make him see…

“Just don’t make it worse.”

Robbie’s words ring through my head suddenly, unexpectedly, followed by the fresh memory of the devastating pain in his eyes.

I made it worse. Oh God, I made it worse. What have I done? What have I done to him…to us both?

It starts with silent shaking, as I wrap my arms tighter around my knees, and the very fabric of my existence begins to unravel around me. I thought things were bad before--but I’ve never seen him look like the way he did. Not even on his worst day. He looked destroyed…and I caused it. I made things worse.

Suddenly I can’t hold back the choked sobs anymore, and I give in. I give in to the despair, the overwhelming hurt and loss. Have I lost him completely? Oh God, where did he go?

What have I done?

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com