Daytona Rage

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Adventures of Havoc and Wonderboy : Daytona Rage

Summary: Jeff confronts Kevin about wrecking “his boy” in the Daytona 500 qualifier race.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: The Adventures of Havoc and Wonderboy
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Kevin Harvick, alternating POVs
COMPLETED: April 21, 2005
WORD COUNT: 7,322
DEDICATION: To Lisa, an amazing author and beta in her own right, who helped me tighten this thing up with her excellent comments. Thanks so much hon, and I’ll be happy to return the favor any time.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well ok, so the Dark Nights Series totally took a lot out of me lately and I decided to try a little experiment. Surely you didn’t think I could let Kevin wrecking JJ go unanswered, right? This is something I’ve wanted to give a shot for awhile, but never saw it working till now. Let me know what yall think…this may turn into a series.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ***** denotes POV shift.
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Daytona International Speedway: February 17, 2005 - Post Gatorade Duel 2

Stupid, fucking son of a bitch.

How dare he wreck my car? How could he be so damn stupid at Daytona? I know he’s aggressive. Aggressive is fine. Hell, I won my first 500 here practically running over Rusty. But bump drafting? In the corner? Idiot must have lost his mind. He better be damn thankful he didn’t bang up my car too bad.

Clench my jaw as well as my fists as I remember watching my car spin across the infield--taken out from the lead. All by one fool’s dumbass actions. Ever heard of patience? Ohhhh, no. Not him. Not that maniac. How dare he take out my boy….

But that’s just it.

Stop in my tracks, on my way to my coach, as I’m forced to realize again…he’s not my boy anymore. Am I ever going to get that through my head?

I’d love nothing more than to find him right now, still fuming with anger like he always is when things don’t go his way. Feel a smile tug at my lips as I remember other times when one of us was too pissed to see straight…how we’d work out all our frustrations on each other…in each other….

Shake my head suddenly, pushing back all the remembered times we had together and the growing desire I can’t ever seem to be rid of since she came along. He promised me nothing would change when they started dating--that she was just a “cover” to make things easier. But you aren’t supposed to marry your damn cover!

I feel my anger rising again, along with my frustration. How did everything spin so far out of control? I can’t go find him. Not now. Not when he’s still basking in marital bliss with her tending to his wounds. I wonder how long that will last before he comes running back to me, before he realizes we just aren’t made for a “normal” life? Not with what we do. Not when every lap could be your last. It can’t happen soon enough to suit me.

Clench my fists again, digging my fingernails into my palms. No, I won’t be getting any satisfaction today, that’s for sure. “Damn it, Jimmie,” I curse under my breath. “Why’d you have to make everything change?”

As start my trek back to my coach again, I force thoughts of him out of my mind and focus once again on the asshole who wrecked him…and what I’d love to do to him. I’d give anything to have him in a room alone. Just give me five minutes, five minutes to wipe that cocky little smile off his face, to make him pay for wrecking my boy.

I’m so lost in my daydreams of violence I don’t even realize my slip again. As I reach the drivers’ motorcoach lot and make my way to my own, I briefly wonder when I turned into such a bloodthirsty asshole because all I can think about is ramming my fist into that stupid prick’s face. Jimmie really needs to get over his latest fascination pretty soon, or I’m gonna end up killing someone. I just feel so out of control.

Look up, my coach finally coming into view, and suddenly stop short once again. I can’t believe it. He’s coming this way. Alone. I feel a dark smile curl at my lips as I realize maybe I’ll be able to take out some of my anger after all.

*****

She won’t even speak to me. I get in a wreck, end up getting T-boned in the side of my car, and she won’t even speak to me! Stupid bitch. Did she really think I tried to cause a fucking pile-up? I swear she didn’t even care if I was alright or not, just that I had half the drivers in the garage bitching about my driving style. I guess my image is apparently more important than me. But, hell, I’ve known she wasn’t really interested in me for a long time…just what I could give her.

I shake my head still fuming with anger. Why do I have to be NASCAR’s official whipping boy all the time? Wasn’t it obvious pretty boy Johnson was blocking me? Everyone saw him bragging on Trackside about letting up on the gas and blocking during the Shootout. Everyone knows you don’t let up at Daytona! But he was proud of it, and with him being Gordon’s little pretty boy and all, no one seemed to care. They just patted him on the head like the good little dog he is.

But do I get the same respect? Hell no! No one will even cut me the tiniest sliver of slack. Bump drafting in the corner…do they think I’m a complete moron? The bastard blocked me, cut me off, and let off the gas right in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Spin out so I didn’t hit his precious little car?

Shake my head in anger again. She would have been pissed either way. She’s pissed every time I don’t pull into victory lane. Honestly, I’ve forgotten a time when she wasn’t pissed. So I pushed it a little harder than maybe I should have so maybe I could have one night of peace. So much for that idea.

Now I have to end up having a “chat” with Jimmie “holier than thou” Johnson later tonight to make sure they don’t pull me from the track…again. I grit my teeth and sneer at the thought. I’d like nothing better that to pound the shit out of him for running his stupid whinny mouth off, saying I should be fired. Who does he think he is? The crown prince of NASCAR? That lanky little retard has his head shoved so far up Gordon’s ass it’s miracle Jeff can walk straight, and now I have to go play nice and kiss his ass so I don’t get penalized.

God my life sucks.

I couldn’t even get so much as a second of Junior’s time to take my mind off of things. No, the heir to all things NASCAR had to play Mr. Daytona. He didn’t even have five minutes for me after I wrecked…much less time for anything else. Now that I think about it, though…he hasn’t had much time for me in a while….

Shake my head at the thought. Junior’s been busy. That’s all. I’m sure after the season gets going, after we get away from Daytona, he’ll have time for me again. He has to. What else have I got? DeLana? Please. Not until I find my way back to victory lane.

I swear, my life really does suck.

No D. No Junior. NASCAR on my ass even before the first race of the season. A sit down with Jimmieboy. Can this day possibly get any worse?

“Harvick!”

I look up, hearing my name, and freeze when I see Gordon glaring at me. Oh shit, what the hell does he want? The last thing I need is Wonderboy bitching at me for running into his car. I can’t believe this.

*****

“What do you want, Gordon?” he says with a sneer. Cocky bastard. Someone really needs to teach him a lesson and I’d love to be the one…especially today. Especially after he wrecked my car.

“Honestly, I’d like to know what your problem is,” I shoot back at him. “What’s wrong, Kevin--forget how to drive?” I watch as he glares daggers at me, green eyes flashing with hints of gold in anger, and I can’t help but goad him again. “But I guess that would mean you’dve had to know how at some point, doesn’t it?”

He stands a little straighter at my words, and as he balls his fists at his sides I feel myself fill with anticipation, wishing, hoping he’ll stand up to me. I feel my anger burning out of control and it surprises me for a moment. But I push these thoughts aside, letting the recent, all-too-familiar rage take hold, as I dare him to make a move, any move that will allow me to release this pent-up anger and frustration. Come on, Harvick--where’s that famous temper of yours?

He stands there another moment, and for an instant I think he might actually lose control. But instead he just cocks his head at me and replies, “As much as I’d like to stand here and trade insults with you, Gordon, which I have to say are only marginally better than those of that moron you call a driver, I have better places to be.” And with that he moves to storm past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder with his as he moves by.

Does he really think I’m going to let him leave that easily? I don’t think so. I’m not done with him yet. As he brushes against me, I reach out, grabbing him tightly by the upper arm, causing him to stop. Feel him stiffen at my touch and I turn my head slowly to meet his blazing emerald eyes.

“I didn’t say we were finished, Kevin,” I say coldly and he jerks his arm from my grasp. He’s obviously fighting to contain his anger as he glares at me, and I reach up pulling off my sunglasses to let him see my own fiery gaze. His eyes widen, only slightly, as they meet mine and I know he wasn’t expecting to see so much wrath coming from me. But I’m tired of being nice. I’m tired of playing by the rules, when right now all I want to do is pound his face in.

Watch as his tenuous grip on his temper finally begins to slip and he takes half a step back from me, adopting an aggressive stance.  Smile coldly at him because this is finally getting interesting. “Fine,” he shoots back at me. “You wanna talk? You wanna do this? Let’s go,” he says as he motions with his hands in front of him. Yes. This is exactly what I was looking for. I part my lips to answer as I move towards him again when I suddenly hear voices from behind me.

“Oh my God! Is that Jeff Gordon?!?!”

Turn my head sharply, hearing my name, and see four girls at the far end of the motorcoach lot…coming this way. “Shit,” I curse under my breath. As if it wasn’t bad enough they rebuilt the garages here, turning them into a damn fishbowl with us as the main attraction, now they’re letting anyone wander through the only place we’re supposed to get a little bit of privacy? Don’t get me wrong. I love the fans--we all do--but this is ridiculous.

Sigh and turn to Kevin, ready to finish this “another time” so I can escape to the safety of my coach. It’s only a few steps away--a protective lair within easy reach. But as I turn to face Kevin more fully, I realize he’s not looking at me anymore. Instead he’s turned away, watching two reporters come this direction who seem to have spotted him. I hear him curse under his breath, mirroring my own actions, and I realize I still may get the confrontation I want after all…that is, unless he’d rather stay out here and face the wolves.

I reach for him again, placing my hand on his arm, and his head snaps around at my touch. Give him a wry grin as I tug on his arm and say, “C’mon, Happy,” and nod towards my coach. “That is, unless you’d rather stay out here and face the music.” Smile as I glance at the reporters coming ever closer with each passing moment. Then I turn, letting my hand fall away and head to the door.

*****

Look at Jeff in surprise at his sarcastic words as he turns away from me and heads into his motorcoach. Does he really think I want to follow him? I’d sooner lay down on a bed of nails and listen to the ice queen drone on about how long it’s been since we’ve won. But as I cast another glance over my shoulder, I realize even having a “chat” with Gordon is better than being raked over the coals again. Not to mention I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to hold my tongue this time, and if I thought she was mad before….

Don’t even give it another thought. Just turn after him, following him quickly into the relative safety of his coach. Push the door closed behind me, still surprised at my impulsive actions of following someone so obviously pissed at me, when I have to jerk my head up at the sound of something crashing across the room. That’s when I see he’s thrown his sunglasses across the room and onto a low lamp table, metal clinking against glass.

I take a small step back in surprise as I once again meet a gaze of cold blue fire directed right at me. What the hell? I’ve never seen Gordon so pissed before. I thought he never lost control. What exactly does he plan on doing? I don’t even give it another thought as the mocking words come to my lips. “So, you finished with your hissy fit, or you wanna break something first?” Feel the taunting smile come to my lips as his jaw clenches in anger and I can’t help but continue, “Now I see where Johnson gets it from.”

See something flash across his face at my words, but before I have a chance to figure out what I hit on to make a dent in his cool façade, the cold glare is back as he takes a step towards me. “I’d like to break your face after the stunt you pulled today, Havoc,” he growls, and I’m once again shocked by the venom in his voice. “When was the last time you won anyway, Happy?” he sneers and I feel my gut twist at his words. But I push it back, instead opting for the anger I feel rising inside. What’s he really going to do anyway? Beat the hell out of me? As if. He doesn’t have it in him.

Stand up straighter, jutting out my chin, and respond sharply, “Bring it on, Gordon. I ain’t afraid of you or your skinny little protégé.” He moves across the small room in an instant, and I swear his eyes spark with rage. Take a step backwards and feel the door pressing against my back. Has he completely lost his mind? What the--

“Don’t talk about my--” I watch as he briefly glances away--eyes leaving mine for only an instant--before he continues, close enough for me to feel his hot breath against my face. “Don’t talk about Jimmie that way. He’s twice the driver you’ll ever be,” he spits out and that’s when it hits me. Something I’ve suspected, but never really been sure of. The way those two are always inseparable. I’ve wondered before, but never had any real proof. Hell, I’ve even asked Junior on more than one occasion what he thought about them, but he would just tell me he didn’t want to talk about anyone else. To be perfectly honest, Jeff just didn’t really seem the type, but now…now I can’t hold back.

I laugh.

Watch confusion spread across his face as he takes a step back and his carefully perfected mask of deceit begins to crumble…and I see straight through him. I see everything I didn’t see before. This has nothing to do with me. This isn’t about me wrecking his car. This is all about me wrecking his boy. Something I’ve heard him call Jimmie more than once, but never thought too much about. I’ll give them this though…they’re really pretty damn good. Even though there were times I wondered, I didn’t really believe it. Not until now.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Harvick?” he says and I can’t help but laugh again at the look of confusion on his face. Me? I shake my head as the smile crosses my face. Two can play at this game.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Jeff,” I shoot back at him, watching him closely as I continue. “You’re the one who’s obviously got the problem, now don’t you?” His eyes narrow at my words and he starts to respond, but I don’t give him the chance. I take a step forward, invading his space this time, “This isn’t about me. This is about your boy, isn’t it?”

I know I’m right the instant the words leave my lips because he takes another step back from me. I see a flash of hurt in his eyes, but I don’t care. He started this and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t mess with me again. I’m going to finish this. Feel my grin even more grow as I step forward again and say with even more confidence, “But that’s just the thing isn’t it, Jeff? He’s not your boy anymore, is he?”

*****

His words cut me to the core as I’m sure he knew they would if his mocking eyes are any indication. How could I have been so careless? How could I have let him know the one secret I’ve done everything to hide? Only a very few, a very trusted few, really know about me and Jimmie. And now loud mouth Harvick knows.

I take another step back as his words echo in my head again, words I’ve told myself over and over again. But hearing them out loud…hearing them out loud just makes it all too real. Makes me face things I still don’t want to accept. Look up to meet his taunting eyes and infuriating smile again. He knows. He knows my secret, and the thought sends a chill through me. But as I look at him again I realize, I’m not the only one with a secret I’d do anything to keep quiet.

Feel a dark smile cross my lips and see his smile falter a fraction. Oh, yes. I know all about his dirty little secret too, and it’s about time I let him know. Besides, he has a hell of a lot more to lose than I do.

“Funny Kev, I would have thought you’d be licking your wounds with Junior right about now,” I say slowly, my eyes leaving no question to the real meaning of my words. Smile even more at the shocked look on his face as I once again take control of the situation. Boy doesn’t have any idea who he’s messing with. Does he really think I haven’t noticed him and Dale? There’s not much in the garage I don’t pick up on. I’ve been around a long time. I pay attention, and I’ve known Dale for years. Not to mention the fact Kevin so obviously wears his heart on his sleeve.

The sudden hurt look on his face though…is it possible he doesn’t know? My lips curl into what’s more of a sneer than a grin and I have to know, I have to find out. Look into his eyes again and ask him coldly, “But guess he hasn’t had much time for you since Truex won the championship has he?”

Bright green eyes go wide with surprise, wide with denial. He shakes his head muttering as he backs away.  “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about….”

“Oh, c’mon Kevin, surely you knew,” I mock and move towards him. He’s looking down and clenching his jaw again, but still I can’t stop. If he’s going to mess with me, mess with what’s mine--or what used to be mine --he better be ready to deal with the consequences. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know where he’s been spending his nights since last season?” He’s still not looking at me and I can tell he had no clue. I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

At least someone is as miserable as I am.

*****

It can’t be true. He has to be wrong. But the look in his eyes tells me he’s not making it up. Have I been completely blind? Am I a total fool? I mean, it’s not like we were exclusive. How could we be? I’m married for Christ’s sake…but wouldn’t he have told me?

“When is the last time Junior made time for you anyway, Havoc?”

His cold words penetrate my thoughts and I he’s right. When was the last time we were together? I keep telling myself he’s just busy…but busy doing what? Spending time with his Busch team, that’s what. My heart screams that Junior wouldn’t do this to me, but what if he did? What if he is? And why do I have to find out from this fucking asshole?

Look up abruptly, focusing all my anger at the arrogant piece of shit in front of me. He’s smiling at me and obviously enjoying being the one to tell me about Junior. And I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand the criticism, the betrayal, the constant nagging that makes up my life. The fucking loneliness and emptiness and someone needs to pay. Meet his taunting blue eyes and suddenly I feel myself snap.

“You bastard,” I shout.  Strike out blindly, even as he ducks away from me, but my fist still comes into contact with his jaw. Watch him stumble backwards and grin in satisfaction. He wants to play games? I’m more than ready to play.

He brings the back of his hand to his jaw and glares. I knew he was all talk. I knew he wouldn’t actually do anything. But then his eyes narrow even more--blue fire seeming to grow brighter--and suddenly I’m not sure what he’s going to do.

*****

He hit me.

That fucking son of a bitch hit me. Who the hell does he think he is? He’s standing there, watching me with guarded eyes and I taunt him again. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Kevin?” Hurt briefly flashes in his eyes again and I take that distraction to rush him, knocking him backwards onto the couch. Deliberately land with my knee to his gut and knock the breath out of him. Feel him exhale sharply underneath me, but I don’t care. All I want to do is cause pain. The same pain I’m in. Aim for his ribs, landing several punches before he quickly pulls his legs up and kicks me off, sending me flying backwards across the room.

“Go to hell, Gordon,” he screams as I hit the table I tossed my sunglasses onto hard with my lower back. Hear the lamp shatter as it hits the ground and that only serves to fuel my rage. I swear I’m going to kill this son of a bitch.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” I growl and I push myself to my feet as he does the same.

“That right?” he shoots back and I smile as he takes deep breaths brings a hand to his side. Guess I did manage to get a few good punches in after all.

Wince as I stand up straighter and pain shoots through my back, but I barely notice.  All I feel is sheer fury at this arrogant fool in front of me. “That’s right,” I call back and move rapidly towards him again. But this time, instead of trying to knock him backwards as before, I do something he obviously doesn’t expect. I grab his arms and sweep my leg forward, catching his and knocking them out from under him. But as he falls he grabs my arms and I fall forward, landing heavily on top of him.

Hear him grunt as we both hit the ground. Sit up quickly, pinning his legs beneath me and swinging my fist directly into his cocky mouth. “You fucking idiot. Who the hell do you think you are?” Pull my arm back to hit him again when he works his right leg free, lifting it and wrapping it around mine. Then, without warning, he flips us over and I hit the ground hard and find myself staring straight up into green eyes blazing with gold.

“The guy that’s gonna kick your ass, Wonderboy,” he replies and I’m instantly filled with blinding rage. There’s only one person on this Earth I could ever tolerate calling me by that name and it sure as hell isn’t him. He swings at me and I bring my left arm up to deflect his punch, but he still ends up knocking me on the side of the head. I shake my head, trying to fight off the disorientation, and reach for him. Push him off hard and roll to the side to scramble to my feet.

“In your dreams, Happy,” I spit at him as he pushes himself to his feet again. He’s still glaring at me, and we’re both breathing heavy, but I have to grin as I notice the small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

“What the hell are you smiling at, asshole?” he snarls at me, which only makes my smile grow.

“Nothing special, Havoc.  I just like watching you bleed.” And with that I lunge forward, intent on smashing my fist into his face again. But apparently he sees me coming and ducks my punch.  He grabs my arm and spinning me around until my back hits the wall hard.  Then he’s on me, pressing his forearm across my throat. Glare at him with cold eyes and wait for him to make his next move.

*****

Finally feel like I’ve got the upper hand when I pin him against the wall, my face only inches from his. I feel him breathing heavily as I press my forearm just below his throat and meet his eyes, still flashing with cold blue fire. I start to pull away to punch him in the jaw again and see how he likes to bleed, but then I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from his.

They’re a shade darker than what I’m used to too, full of anger, hatred and rage but no less vibrant and full of fire.  Part of me wishes it was another pair of blue eyes I was staring into so intently. But he doesn’t want me now, and if Jeff’s right, he may never want me again. Realize I’m somehow captured by these twin pools of churning cobalt--I can’t look away--and for the second time since I followed him into his coach I can’t seem to control my actions.

Lunge forward pressing my lips forcefully to the ones sneering at me and they’re hard and soft under mine all at the same time. Lean against him, attacking his mouth with my own and I can barely form a thought as all my pent-up anger and frustration turn to lust in an instant and I know I’ve lost my mind. Feel his hands, gripping my arms, and as I’m forced backwards I realize what I’ve done. Meet his blazing eyes again and I’m certain I’m finally going to get my ass seriously kicked--if he doesn’t end up laughing his ass off at my obvious weakness.

Force myself not to look away. I can’t back down. Even if he knocks the shit out of me, I’m not going to back down. See the rage clearly painted on his face mixed with shock at my insane actions and I know it’s all over. Feel one of his hands release me, sliding up to grip the back of my neck hard, and I’m certain he’s going to hurl me across the room. But then he does the last thing I ever expected. His hand squeezes my neck tight then suddenly pulls me forward and he crushes his lips to mine.

The kiss is violent and I have no choice but to open my mouth as he forces his tongue past my lips, pulling me even closer. As his tongue duels fiercely with mine I’m instantly lost in the most passionate, fiery kiss I’ve ever known. His lips are searing, insistent, commanding against mine and I can’t help but give in to his demands. That’s when I feel him pushing me backwards, one step, two  until it’s my back pressed hard against the wall. I hear a crash--it seems so distant--and realize we must have knocked something over, but I can’t seem to care.

Feel him press against me as his hands release my neck and arm and roam down to the bottom of my shirt. Tremble and moan when I feel his hands against my skin, and have to take a deep breath as he pulls back, breaks the kiss and tears my shirt over my head. Meet his eyes--only for an instant--but the intensity of them is searing, full of passion and raw lust. Don’t even have a chance to think as he crushes his mouth to mine again, claiming my lips in an unrelenting display of dominance and I can’t fight him. I don’t even want to.

His hands at my belt, working at the buckle and I reach up under his shirt.  Run my nails across the hard plains of his chest and smile when he growls in response. My jeans unfastened, I feel the zipper forced down before he reaches aggressively inside, taking my throbbing cock in his hand. Throw my head back and lean heavily against the wall, breaking the kiss as he grips me tight, stroking me quickly.

“Fuck,” I moan and my voice is rough and so unlike my own.

“Hell, yes,” he growls against my neck and attacks me with his scorching lips as I pull him closer and thrust into his hand. Then he’s pulls me forward and slide around me before pushing me across the small space again. Hit the wall hard, palms flat against it and he presses up against me from behind. I rest my forehead against the smooth wall and hear him rapidly working the buckle of his own jeans. Then I hear him curse and pause and I’m pretty sure I know the reason.

I reach back, taking his left hand in my own and pull it around my waist. Feel him move forward, crushing his body to mine as his lips and tongue blaze a trail across my neck again. I moan deeply at the contact, and he grinds his hips against my ass. Then I shiver when I hear his voice low and breathy in my ear, “Kevin, I need--”

“I know,” I moan back in response, and I grip his hand in mine, sliding it into the front pocket of my jeans. Feel his fingers curl around the small tube in my pocket and I remember why I have it. He was right. I was going to Junior. But the pang of hurt in my heart at the memory only lasts an instant when his right hand slides around my waist, taking me in his hand again.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he groans, breath hot on my skin as he grinds himself against me again. His left hand pull away and I tremble when he begins to stroke me quickly with his right. Then both of his hands are at my waist, pushing my jeans and boxers down roughly, and I shudder with lust at his rushed actions.  Anticipation builds, rises in the pit of my stomach. Hands on my bare hips and I feel him pressing against my bare ass. Grit my teeth, waiting, wanting, needing, my entire body rigid with tension and expectation.

Scream as he thrusts forward, impaling me, pinning me against the wall. “Yesssssss,” I cry out as he thrusts into me again and I slam my hands against the wall when his fingers dig into my hips. Throw my head back, moaning long and low as he pounds into me, hot mouth at my neck, moving across my collar bone. Unexpectedly I feel a sudden sting at my shoulder as he bites at my skin, and I can’t help but moan again, “Fuck, yes, Jeff!”

*****

So damn hot. So fucking tight. Smooth skin, hard muscles, under my hands. So different and so damn good.

I run my tongue over the slick skin between his neck and shoulder, tasting his sweat as I slide my right arm around his waist. Trace my hand along the hard muscles of his abs, feeling them contract and release underneath my fingertips as he presses back against me. “God, Kevin,” I breathe and bury my face in his neck.  Then I wrap my fingers around his hard length again and stroke him in time with my slow thrusts.

“Unnnngh, Jeff,” he moans and he throws his head back again. Lean forward and attack his throat with my lips, never breaking the sensual pounding rhythm between us. Slide my free hand up his slick chest, raking my nails across taut muscles, and grin against his skin when I feel him tremble in my arms. Hear him panting heavily and he turns his head towards me, eyes seeming to glow with an ethereal green fire, consuming me, drawing me in. I’m instantly lost in the swirling gold flecks of his shimmering eyes and have to suck in a breath as he speaks. “More,” he pleads with me, an unbelievably sexy frown marring his face. “Please, more.”

Let out a moan of my own at his words and grip him tighter. Speak low in his ear, my voice laced with passion. “Yes, Kevin.  More….” I moan and pull back just a fraction. Then I grip him tight and pound into him harder. Faster. He slaps his hands against the wall again and I slide mine down to grab his hip.  Stroke him faster with my other hand, eagerly sliding it over hard, velvet flesh.

He drops his head forward, and his arms tremble as he pushes back against me. It’s one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. Grit my teeth and I can’t hold back anymore. Slam him harder against the wall when I feel myself losing control, slipping, falling into him. “Come with me,” I growl in his ear and I feel tremors runs through him as I pound him harder, stroke him faster.

“God, Jeff. So good. Yes. Yes. YES!” he shouts and I feel him shake violently as his release spills over my fingers. Grit my teeth again, pushing him hard against the wall and I grip his hips with both hands. Feel sweat, sliding down the side of my face and I lose myself in the tight body in front of me, releasing my anger, my rage, my hurt. “Fuck, yes,” he cries as he pushes back to meet my thrusts and the hoarse sound of his voice, the sound of flesh against flesh, the feel of his skin as my fingers slide over his body…it’s all too much.

“Kevin, damn, holy shit,” I cry out when wave after wave of searing pleasure washes over me and I have to cling to him to stay on my feet. Molten fire in my veins and I shudder against him. When is the last time…it doesn’t matter. All that matters is right here, right now.

As my shaking finally begins to subside, I pull slowly from him, tug up my jeans and fasten them. Then I take a few steps backward until my back hits the wall and I slide down, my legs no longer able to support my weight. Close my eyes and rest my head against the wall behind me as my heart rate finally begins to slow.

What the hell did I just do?

*****

Exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. When was the last time I felt so thoroughly fucked?

Reach down slowly, wincing at the pleasant soreness, and pull up my jeans, bothering only to zip them up. Then I go to my knees, turn to rest against the wall and force myself to finally look at him.  He’s leaning against the wall across from me, mirroring my pose, but his eyes are closed. What did I just let happen? My God, did I really just let Jeff Gordon pin me against the wall and fuck me? How the hell did this happen? I was just minding my own business, wallowing in the mess that is my life and then….

This is completely insane.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is…that was…God, I swear that was the best fucking screw of my life. Look at him again and my eyes are instantly drawn to his parted lips as he still breathes heavily and I remember how soft, how firm they were under my own….

I’ve lost my mind. How am I ever going to be able to look at him the same way again? What the hell happens now, anyway? Watch as he slowly opens his eyes and I see a sultry smile cross his lips that I can’t help but return. But then his eyes change, as he finally seems to see me, and I can’t read his expression at all. Is he pissed, disgusted, ready to try and beat the crap out of me again? I have no clue. If anything he seems lost in thought. And for the first time that I can remember, I can’t think of a thing to say.

Watch as he reaches over and grabs my discarded shirt as he moves to his feet. He tosses it at me and says, “If you’re looking for someone to cuddle, sweetheart, you better go looking somewhere else.” Then he turns sharply, barely sparing me a glance, and walks through the living area into the kitchen.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Gordon,” I shoot back as I push myself to my feet and tug my shirt over my head. “I’ve already seen all you have to offer.” Sneer when he walks back towards me, opening a bottle of Pepsi. I swear, does the man ever drink anything else?

“Yeah?” he responds and takes a long drink. “Well, don’t get your hopes up, Happy, this was a one shot deal,” he says and narrows his eyes at me. “Just be glad I fucked your ass instead of kicking it.” Then he sneers at me and he takes another drink of his cola.

“Ooooo.” Put my hands up in mock fear. “I’m so scared.” Why does he have to be such as asshole? Does this really have to end like this? Even though…it’s probably for the best. I mean, it was just a damn good screw…right?

Drop my hands and glare at him again. “Don’t worry, Gordon. You won’t see me around here again.” Pause and briefly reconsider my next words. But if he wants to be a jackass, two can play at that game. “Besides, I’ve had more fun watching paint dry.”

Watch as he clenches his jaw, and I faintly hear the creak of the plastic bottle in his hand. I wonder…can he tell I’m lying through my teeth? Could be possibly know that that was the most….

No.

Not going to go there. He’s made it perfectly clear what he thinks of me. I’m just lucky he seems ready to pretend this all never happened. How that’s going to work I have no clue, considering I can feel my body betraying me all over again with the dark look he’s shooting me.

I have to get out of here.

“Why don’t you just get the fuck out of here, Kevin? See if you can have as much ‘fun’ with Dale or that pretty little wife of yours,” he says coldly.  Why does it seem like he sees straight through me? Feel my insides twist at his harsh words, but I push it back and head to the door.

Brush past him, barely sparing a glance, and growl, “Thanks for nothing, Wonderboy.” Reach for the door handle, intent on getting the hell out of this twisted reality when I hear him call after me.

“Hey, Havoc,” he says and I flinch at his apparent new nickname for me. Turn my head slowly, leveling my eyes with his and wait for whatever mocking comeback he has for me now. But as I meet his eyes, I can’t help but ask myself…do they seem a little softer?

“Don’t worry too much about Jimmie.” Frown in confusion at his words. What is he trying to say? I start to ask, but then he continues and he looks away. “He’s had plenty of time to cool off…with her.” Instantly feel a little sorry for him at the bitter tone in his voice I can tell he’s trying hard to hide. He looks back at me again, swirling blue eyes locking with my own. “I doubt he’ll give you too much of a hard time now. Just let him…” he trails off for a moment and I wonder if he’s going to continue. But then he gives me a small smile. “Just let him whine for about five minutes about the wreck. Then he’ll get over it.”

“Thanks,” I reply with a smile of my own and give him a small nod. “I’ll remember that.” He returns my nod and then turns away from me.  He walks over to the couch and sits down, not even sparing me another glance. Look at him another moment, wondering what he’s thinking, why he was suddenly nice to me, but I push the thought away. It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here and try to forget this ever happened.

Shake my head because I know that’s never going to happen and walk out the door…more confused than I’ve ever been in my life.

*****

My head turns sharply towards the door the instant I hear it close. Why did I have to be such a jerk to him? Because if I hadn’t started it, he would have. What was I thinking? That just because he kissed me, let me screw him against the wall that it might mean something? Laugh and the sound is bitter even to my own ears. Harvick can’t stand me. That’s blatantly obvious. That was all nothing more than….

Than what?

I don’t have a clue. Take a long drink from the bottle in my hand and something to the side of the couch catches my eye. Reach down, looking to see what it is and realize it’s his hat. It must have fallen off when we were, well, fighting or fucking. Look down at the black and silver design, tracing my thumb across the bill, and suddenly realize how calm I feel. It’s like all the rage that’s been building inside since last November--December if I really want to be honest--melted away.

Trace my thumb across the hat again and suddenly realize what I’m doing. Throw the hat away in disgust. What’s the point? Nothing special happened here. It was just a good fuck, no matter if he tries to deny it. Shake my head and pull myself off the couch. I’m supposed to meet with Chad, Jimmie and Robbie after Jimmie’s “meeting” and I need a shower.

Walk down the hall, pausing for a moment as I see where I pressed him up against the wall. Remember blazing eyes of green and gold boring into mine and I run my tongue over my lips. It’s an unconscious move, a kind of hot recognition from somewhere deep inside. Shake my head and force these thoughts into quiet submission as I move down the hall to the bathroom.

It was nothing.

Now if I can just make myself believe it.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com