Vegas Payback

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Adventures of Havoc and Wonderboy : Vegas Payback

Summary: It's time for a little post-California payback.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: The Adventures of Havoc and Wonderboy
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Kevin Harvick, alternating POVs
COMPLETED: May 17, 2005
WORD COUNT: 10,304
CATEGORY: Angst, smut
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ahhh yes, totally in love with these two now. Now if I can only write faster and catch up with the season!!!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ***** denotes POV shift.
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Las Vegas Motor Speedway: March 13, 2005 - Post race

God, what a race.

As I follow the cars in front of me for the cool-down lap before entering the pits, I can’t help but wonder when I’ve passed so many cars in one day--all for fifth place. I shouldn’t complain, I know that. But I can’t help but wonder, what if? What if Todd hadn’t been caught? What if we didn’t have to start at the back of the field? Maybe I wouldn’t have pushed it too hard in the pits and got caught speeding?

The car was fast. I swear I could’ve put it anywhere on the track. I just needed a few more laps. But that didn’t happen and I wind up losing to “pretty boy” Johnson, the Busch twins, and Wonderboy. I try to push back my smile as I follow his obnoxiously bright 24 car on to pit road, parking behind him to wait for the obligatory post race interviews. Just a few more laps and I know I would have had him, and I would’ve loved to throw that in his face. Maybe it would piss him off enough to….

I shake my head and take off my helmet, trying to force back thoughts I don’t need to be thinking about right before I get a dozen microphones shoved in my face. I unhook my belts, tossing the steering wheel on the dash and put on my hat and sunglasses, forcing myself to focus on the race and not the car sitting in front of me. NASCAR’s gonna penalize us for sure for “cheating.” I just hope it’s not too bad.

I pull myself through the window and slip out of the car, just as see him doing the same. Then I lean back against the sheet metal behind me and wait for the press…my favorite part of the race. As if. I glance over at him, doing the same thing as me, and watch as he looks toward Victory Lane. That’s when I really see it for the first time.

I know that look.

I’ve worn it so many times myself and I can’t believe I never saw it before. That’s not a look of longing to be the one in Victory Lane being showered in champagne. That’s a look of misery and a deeper loneliness of wanting and needing something so desperately that you know you can’t have. I had the same look on my face each time Junior took the checkers last year because I knew there would be no time for us. Not when he had to play host to party central. He’s hurting…and for some reason…I can’t stand to watch it.

But I don’t turn my gaze away, as his remains locked to the celebration just out of reach. Finally I see the cameras and reporters coming closer and I watch as he drops his head forward, bringing his hand to the top of his hat as if he’s trying to adjust it. But I know he’s not. He’s preparing himself to put on the mask of confidence and perfection we’ve all come to know from him…I just never knew before that it wasn’t real--that his life wasn’t actually perfect after all.

I see them reach him first, pressing around him, trying to get any piece of him they can get. Then I watch as he raises his head to face them. And there he is, the media boy we all love to despise. Instantly the commanding air is back, along with his smile, as he describes his car, the race, kisses all the right asses, and I have to admit…he really is good.

But I only have a moment longer to watch as some of the press actually decides I’m worth talking to after all. I push my thoughts of why I’m so worried about Gordon in the first place out of my head and concentrate on the morons around me as they ask the same questions they do week after week. So I oblige with the same stock answers.

“We had a strong car today…a winning car,” the same answer they’ll get from probably ten other drivers, but still, they eat it up, begging for more ready-made sound bites…and so I continue. “But there were just some mistakes that hurt us.” Like illegal fuel cells and speeding like an idiot. And now for the team and sponsors…damn I feel like such a trained monkey sometimes. “I’m real proud of the GM Goodwrench team. We have had great cars and motors this year and we fought our way back from the back twice today,” which should have never had to happen I tell myself. “We will be good in Atlanta as well so I’ll try and get a win there,” I finish with my trademark grin. What else do they expect me to say anyway? We were good, we lost, we’ll get them next time. Why do they even bother asking?

“So, Kevin, what kind of penalty do you think NASCAR will give you for the illegal fuel cell in qualifying?”

How the hell should I know, I desperately want to shoot back. They’ll probably do whatever it takes to knock me out of the top ten. But I push back all the things I want to shout at them and reply barely maintaining my smile, “You’ll have to ask NASCAR about that. I just drive the car. We’ll deal with whatever the consequences are as soon as they decide,” worthless pieces of shits that they are.

Finally, after dodging a few more questions I honestly don’t even have the answers to, the media apparently decides there are more interesting drivers to go annoy. I glance over to see that Jeff is still being mobbed by reporters as he tries to make his way to Victory Lane--where else?--and for what isn’t the first time, I’m glad not to be him. There’s no way I could put up with all of that. But I guess that’s just what the bastard gets for winning so much, I think with a wry smile.

I turn from the media circus and head quickly to my coach. If I’m lucky, I might be able to beat D and get showered and changed before she gets back. I shoot one more glance at the parade heading to Victory Lane and shake my head as he’s obviously off to congratulate “his boy.” As I look away, intent on getting in and out of my coach as fast as possible, I suddenly remember the lost look on his face as he stared towards the winner’s circle, and I feel that same uncomfortable feeling at seeing his misery.

What is wrong with me? Why do I give a shit about Gordon’s obviously twisted personal life? Why do I want to make that look go away?

Maybe because he did the same for me last week?

I remember how miserable I was sitting in the garage. He must have seen it…and he followed me. Why? Hell, he was the one in the most compromising position to be honest, not that I really ever want to be caught with my dick down his throat. But…he made me feel better, if only for a little bit.

“Pay me back later.”

That’s exactly what I need to do, I think, as I hear his low spoken words in my ear again. He all but gave me an invite.

And I want to take him up on it.

A smile crosses my face as I realize instead of spending the rest of the afternoon dodging D, I may actually get to have some fun. I quicken my step even more at the thought.

Wonderboy isn’t going to know what hit him.

*****

As I make my way towards Victory Lane through the sea of reporters, crew members, and fans lucky enough to be roaming around on pit road, part of me wonders why I’m going there at all. I know she’s going to be standing there, wrapped around him, and that he won’t even be able to spare me hardly more than a glance. So why do I do it? Because I have to, I tell myself. I’m his car owner. I should make an appearance when he wins, right?

I push these thoughts back, trying to see through the crush of people still asking me questions and begging for autographs but I can’t pay attention to them anymore. I need to see him. I need to see him win. I’ve always loved to see him win since that first race in California so very long ago. I just wish today would end the same way that hot summer night did almost three years ago.

But it won’t.

And thinking about it isn’t going to make this any easier. So I push on, finally catching sight of Victory Lane…of him. He’s standing there in the sunlight, bathed in the happiness of everyone around him, and it’s just like I remember from so many times last year. His blinding smile. The sound of his laugh as he teases his crew. And I know why I’m here.

I have to be part of it.

I have to be part of his happiness, even when I’m anything but. I have to see him this way, surrounded by crew members and strangers, because I hardly get to see this side of him anymore. I barely ever get to see him happy. Not like I used to. Not like when we would meet back at my coach, or his, after practically every race and spend the rest of the afternoon losing ourselves in each other. Then we would just relax, spend time together, and it was all so comfortable. So easy. So unlike any time we’ve had together since December.

No, since the wedding the only time I get to spend with him is in the presence of others…and he’s anything but happy. At least, that’s the way it seems to me. Instead he just shoots me looks full of longing that I just can’t understand--not when he’s the one who made everything change.

But reminiscing and thinking about what could have been isn’t going to help me now. No, now I need to play the part of the happy car owner and congratulate him. At least I’ll get to see him happy for a moment.

I slowly push my way through the crowd around Victory Lane and look up to see him smiling again as he raises the gaudy Vegas trophy belt over his head and poses for pictures, and I can’t help but smile myself. He still hasn’t seen me, which gives me the perfect chance to just watch him like I have so many times before. I’ve never been able to take my eyes off of him--not since that first day he came to me for advice.

Honestly, I was attracted to him instantly, even though I wouldn’t admit that to myself for the longest time. There was just something about him, something so much like me and so…not. I knew from that first moment I wanted to be around him, and I convinced Rick that he was the guy we needed in our car. I tried to tell myself that’s all it was, that I was just interested in his driving skills. But as I watch him spray Chad and the crew with champagne, I know it was more, even back then. But that’s all in the past now. It’s time to move on and get on with my--our lives. Our separate, individual lives.

I shake my head slightly and finally make my way over to him, forcing my practiced smile with an ease I don’t really feel. His back is to me as I reach him and I put my hand on his arm to get his attention--to get this over with. Then he finally turns to me and his smile causes my breath to catch. That look. That’s the look he shot me so many times before, and I know if he wasn’t wearing those hideous black sunglasses what I would see in his eyes.

Longing. Happiness. Desire.

And we would both revel in it.

He reaches for me, at the same time I slide one hand around his neck and pull him into my embrace. I crush him to me, unable to help myself, and the teasing words come so easily. “You know you just got lucky, right?” I tell him with a grin as I pull back just a fraction to meet his eyes.

“Riiiiiiight. Now where was it you finished?” We both laugh at the playful mocking, and I find I’m lost again in his smile.

I give him another quick squeeze and pat on the back before pulling back and saying more seriously, “You did real good today, Jimmie.” I can tell by the look he’s giving me that his amber eyes are sparkling with pride and satisfaction at my comment and again, I wish I could see them.

“Thanks, Jeff,” he replies simply. He reaches out, and briefly touches my arm, and I swear I feel the same electric charge between us. “I’m just lucky you didn’t catch me,” he says with a grin, and it’s all I can do to keep from saying the words--the words we both want to hear. The words I whispered to him so many times before.

I’ll catch you later.

Words that sound so innocent when said, but that held so much more meaning for us both. I watch as he suddenly realizes it too and his smile falters, only a fraction. It’s not enough for anyone else to notice. Not his crew. Not the cameras and the rest of the world around us. But I see it. Even as he replaces his smile with one as fake as my own.

I see it.

And I know I need to get out of here.

“Have fun, Jimmie,” I tell him, and I hope he realizes I mean it as I see her tugging on his arm, trying to get him to rejoin the celebration. He watches me for another moment before finally nodding and turning away. Back to her. Back to the rest of them. And I can’t watch anymore.

I turn away, suddenly needing to be anywhere but here. I make my way quickly from the crush of people, pausing only to congratulate Chad as I slip through the crowd. This isn’t my party. I’m not going to intrude anymore than I already have. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did, taking away from his happiness. But I know it won’t take long for him to lose himself to the celebration. Pity I can’t do the same.

As I reach the rapidly emptying infield I realize I don’t really have anywhere to go. There’s no one waiting for me here. Not anymore. So I just wander aimlessly through the garage, distractedly, seeing a few of my crew members readying the hauler for my car once it gets through post-race inspection.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone.

The thought hits me as suddenly as the realization does. I really am alone now. When has that ever been the case? As far back as I can remember there’s always been someone or something to consume my mind. Racing, Brooke, Jimmie, and now…. Now I’m really and truly alone.

I just need to get out of here, get back home and make myself busy. It’s times like these I’m actually thankful my schedule is always so jammed. At least I can distract myself, think about something other than him. If only….

No. I don’t need to think about him either. I still can’t believe what I did last week--not that I regret a second of it--but that had to be the single most insane thing I’ve ever done. And with Kevin of all people! Have I completely lost my mind? He doesn’t give a shit about me. A few more laps, and I’m sure I would have felt his bumper slamming me out of the way today.

So why can’t I stop thinking about how much I’d love to feel his skin under my fingers again?

I shake my head as I finally enter the motorcoach lot and concentrate on nothing but the large maroon coach coming into view. I’m alone. Completely alone. I just need to get used to that and stop all these useless fantasies. Jimmie’s not coming to see me. Kevin is…well, who the hell knows what he’s doing right now…not that it matters. I just need to hurry up and get out of here.

I finally reach the door of my coach and unlock it. But before I can do more than push open the door I feel hands on me, grabbing me roughly and shoving me inside.

What the hell?

*****

I feel anticipation fill me as soon as I see him come into view and I push myself away from the coach I was leaning on. They park these things so close together it’s actually easy to hide almost in plain site. I watch as doesn’t even see me, obviously lost in thought, and I can’t help but smile. That’s just going to make this even more fun.

He finally makes it to his coach and that’s when I make my move, waiting only for him to open the door. I grab him instantly, pushing him through the open door and following him inside. I kick the door shut behind me and quickly spin him around, slamming his back against the door as I hear him growl, “What the fu--”

But his words cut off the instant he sees me only inches away. I see surprise spread across his face, followed by a slow, seductive smile I’m starting to get used to. “Havoc,” he says with a grin, and I realize his nickname for me doesn’t even seem to bother me. If anything, it seems to fit my mood.

I press in close against him, as close as I can get without actually touching him and reply, “Damn straight,” with a grin of my own. I reach up, pull off his mirrored sunglasses and toss them on the couch to my right, and have to instantly suck in a breath as I meet his eyes that I swear look like molten blue fire. “Who else would it be,” I tell him flippantly, and I’m surprised to see a brief flash of hurt reflected in his eyes. That’s when I recognize the lost and lonely look on his face as he made his way back to his coach for what it was. Something happened when he went to Victory Lane. Something that seems to have made things worse…and I can’t stand it.

I want to make that hurt look go away--just like he did for me, I remind myself. I don’t even question my actions or my motivations. Instead I just smirk at him, trying to push away his hurt with a seductive smile of my own as I tell him in a low voice, “It’s time for payback, Wonderboy.”

I don’t even wait for a response. I just press him against the door and crush my mouth to his, easily slipping my tongue between his parted lips. I hear him moan at the contact, and I feel his hand reach around to grip my neck tightly, pulling me closer, even as I begin to work at the zipper to his firesuit. In no time I’m running my hands up under his shirt and over his chest. I grind my hips against his, pressing him against the door harder, and kiss along his jaw line running my tongue across the salty skin of his neck.

“Kevin,” I hear him moan and a wash of lust runs through me at the breathy sound of my name on his lips. He tilts his head back as I attack his neck even more, nipping at his skin with my teeth as I pull at the collar of his shirt with one hand and suck at the tender flesh between his neck and shoulder. I feel his free hand slip under the back of my shirt--strong fingers running possessively over the muscles of my back--and I shiver with desire at the contact. Damn, how is it that his touch drives me out of my mind in only seconds?

I pull my hands from under his shirt and move to grab his firesuit, tugging it down his arms. Instantly he releases me, shaking his arms out of the heavy material and letting it drop to hang at his waist. He moves to grab me again, but I duck out of his reach, instead sliding down his body and moving to my knees in front of him. I glance up at him, just as he opens his eyes, fiery with desire and lust, and I remember the aggressive way he attacked me in my hauler last week. I meet his eyes for only a moment as I free him completely from his firesuit and take his already hard length to the back of my throat the same way he did me.

“Oh God, Kevin,” he cries out as he closes his eyes and bangs his head back against the hard surface behind him. I pull back slowly, sucking in my cheeks as I run the flat of my tongue along straining flesh before suddenly taking him in again. I jump slightly as his hands slam hard against the door and glance up to see him slowly tossing his head from side to side. That’s when it hits me that he is pressed right up against the door. Anyone who comes close would surely hear us. Anyone could easily come by to chat after the race--and just as it did in my hauler, the very thought of doing something so close to being caught, so on the edge, gets me rock hard and shaking with desire in seconds.

I can’t help but moan deeply at the thought, and I jump again as his fist, this time, slams into the door. I see his nails scratch against the smooth surface and wonder, is that why I can’t seem to stop thinking about him--that I like the danger and forbiddeness of it all? That I just like being with someone I know I shouldn’t…who obviously has no problems with living on the edge? I do my best to force these thoughts from my head and focus only on building his desire, even as my own is burning out of control when I suddenly feel him tugging at my still shower-wet hair.

*****

Good God, holy shit, he’s so damn good. I’ve barely even been able to form a thought the instant his lips crashed to mine. Just one look full of lust from those jade eyes swirling with gold and I lose complete control. How the hell did this happen? And how am I possibly going to hold on much longer when he’s moaning around me sending shock waves rippling through my body?

I reach down, not wanting this to end so damn fast, and feel his damp hair between my fingers even as he deep throats me again sending me to the very edge of control. I grip his hair tightly--so soft in my hand--and pull…hard. I look down at him and realize I’m panting hard as he lets my throbbing hard cock slip from his lips. The image of him--Kevin--down on his knees in front of me causes me to tremble with unfulfilled lust again and I can’t wait any longer.

I reach down for him, grabbing him roughly by the arms and pulling him to his feet. “I want you,” I growl at him, pushing him back from the door and advancing on him at the same time. “Wanna fuck you, Kevin. Now!” I say, and I can hear the roughness of my voice, something I haven’t heard from myself in a long time. When is the last time I’ve been so completely out of control?

I see his arrogant grin at my words, and I know he has a comeback ready…but I don’t wanna hear it. Not now. So I grab him suddenly, spinning him around and pushing him forward causing him to end up spread across my small kitchen table. I advance on him before he even has a chance to turn around and press myself up against him, sliding my arms around his waist. I thrust my hips against him and hear him groan as he drops his heads forward and supports his weight on his hands. God, he really does want this as much as I do.

I waist no time unfastening his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Then I reach into his front pocket hoping…. “Yesssssss,” I hiss in his ear as I find exactly what I was looking for. I can’t help but groan in his ear as I tell him in a low voice, “Always prepared aren’t you Kev?” and I pull the small tube from his pocket.

“Unnnghh,” is his only response as I slide one hand across his hard abs and take his twitching length in my hand. I feel him trembling as I stroke him slowly and realize suddenly that he’s as close as I am.

I feel a pure masculine grin cross my face at seeing him as out of control as me and can’t help but tease him, “Damn Havoc, you’re nothing but a horny little slut aren’t you?” He doesn’t respond right away and I suddenly wonder if I went too far. Shit, I really didn’t mean to--

“Aren’t you just the fucking Einstein,” he says and I look down to see him sneering at me over his shoulder. I grin back at him as he says, “So are you gonna fuck me or what, Wonderboy?”

*****

I feel him roughly jerk my jeans and boxers down and my entire body hums with anticipation. I drop my head forward and see my arms tremble. I have to admit his crude words shocked me at first, especially since I’m never this…easy. But he’s right. For whatever reason, when it comes to him, I just can’t control myself. He just makes me so--

“Ahhhhh, shit yes, Jeff,” I moan as he suddenly thrusts hard into me, causing me to lean further across the table. I hear him make a noise that sounds like a growl, just like the first time we did this, and I realize it turns me on even more than I thought possible.

I reach across the small table, gripping the other side with my hands as I push back to meet his thrusts. God, I can’t believe how close-- “Harder, Jeff. More. Pleeease,” and I realize I can’t stop the desperate sound of my own voice. I feel his hand run up under my shirt and then his nails biting at my skin as he rakes his hand down my spine.

“God, Kevin,” I hear him moan, and I feel one of his arms wrap around my waist as he begins to stroke me again with his other hand. Then he pulls me back, off the table, and he thrusts deeper as he pulls me against him. I feel his hot breath against my ear as he runs his tongue over my neck, kissing the sensitive skin. “So damn good, Kev,” he murmurs in my ear, and I tremble at the passion I hear in his voice.

He holds me tight against him, continuing to pump into me as he strokes me faster, harder, and I can’t hold back. He’s all around me, pulling me close, teeth grazing my neck, holding me, touching me, and I can feel him…so deep. “Yes, Jeff. Yes,” I scream as finally it’s all too much and I come shuddering in his arms…and he doesn’t let me go. Instead he pulls me tighter against him as I find my release, and I feel him breathe deeply as he buries his face in my neck.

“More,” I whisper to him, my head thrown back as I pant heavily, and I can feel him smile against my skin.

“Hell, yes,” he growls as he suddenly pushes me forward causing my hands to slam onto the table again. “So much more,” he says and I feel his hands slide down my body gripping my hips tightly as he begins slamming into me, rapidly building his pace. I can hear him breathing hard, feel him trembling even as he holds onto me for support. I push back against him, losing myself to his powerful thrusts, when suddenly he cries out my name, and I swear it’s music to my ears.

He leans heavily against me as I rest my forearms on the table, and I can’t believe how good I feel. I have to admit it. I have no choice. Wonderboy is really an amazing lay.

*****

I lean against him still trying to catch my breath and can’t help the satisfied smile from crossing my face. I never would have dreamed today would have ended up this way, never would have thought Kevin would actually show up here again. I mean, I had hoped that maybe he might take me up on some “payback” someday, but I really wasn’t holding my breath.

I close my eyes and run the side of my face against the soft cotton shirt covering his back. I breathe deeply and take in his still shower-fresh smell mixed with his sweat and for a moment I lose myself to his scent. I’d like nothing more than to pull him off the table, drag him down the short hall to my room, and spend the rest of the afternoon getting lost in--

What the hell am I thinking?

I stand up, slowly pulling myself from him and take a step back, leaning on the counter behind me as I pull my firesuit up to my waist. Why am I thinking this way? He’s not here to “spend time” with me. But he did show up when I needed someone badly, I remind myself. I shake my head at the thought. It was just a coincidence and now…now he needs to get out of here before someone else decides to stop by.

Someone like Jimmie.

Good God, what the hell am I doing? I don’t even know what to say to him. I glance to the side and pick up a kitchen towel on the counter behind me and suddenly get an idea. Maybe I can put an end to this. I see him still draped across the table making no move to leave and twist the towel in my hands before smacking him across the ass with it and saying, “Don’t get too comfortable, Happy, this isn’t a hotel you know.”

I watch as he finally stands, pulls up his jeans and turns to me, catching the towel I toss him and replying with a sneer, “Actually, Gordon, it seems more like a whore house to me.”

His words catch me by surprise. Surely he isn’t implying I do this kind of thing all the time. He’s the one who came to me. Surely he isn’t talking about Jimmie like that. I grit my teeth as I feel the familiar irritation I’ve come accustomed to where he’s concerned fill me. I should have known better. I should have known he’s nothing but a little shit. What the hell have I been doing?

The words come suddenly to my lips, harsher than I intend, but still I can’t stop myself. “Why don’t you just get the hell out of here, Havoc? See if you can find someone who might actually be interested in your worthless cheating ass.”

I watch as he throws the towel onto the table and narrows his eyes at me as he takes a step closer. “You didn’t seem to think I was so worthless when you were begging to fuck me earlier, did you Wonderboy?”

He leans closer to me, eyes seeming to spark with flecks of gold in rage, and I feel my own anger grow at his taunting. “I never asked you to come here and--”

But he cuts me off with a dark grin as he says, “And as for cheating, maybe you should talk to ‘your boy’ about that.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and I realize what he’s implying, and my anger builds even more. I reach up, putting my hands on his chest, and push him backwards moving towards him at the same time and getting right in his face. “Jimmie is not a cheater!” I growl at him. “He’s more--” but I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence because he’s….

Laughing?

He’s fucking laughing at me!

“What the hell is wrong with you, Harvick?”

He looks up at me, only meeting my eyes for an instant before laughing again, and I find I’m more than ready to slam my fist in his face again. I clench my fist at my side when he finally seems to be able to form words. “You didn’t hear, did you?” he asks with a mocking smile.

Hear about what? What’s he talking about? Apparently he sees the confused look on my face and continues, “Jimmie ‘perfect’ Johnson’s car was too low in post race inspection. Pity. I hope they don’t start trying to take away wins from the cheating bastard.”

I glare at him and instantly shoot back, “You’re one to talk about cheating, Havoc.” I watch as his grin falters and his laughter stops and I can’t hold back…even though part of me tells me I should. “Nice little ‘trick’ you pulled in qualifying. You’ll be lucky if they don’t park your ass again or take away your crew chief for that shit.” I feel a smile spread across my face as all humor leaves his face and he grits his teeth glaring back at me.

“You’d just love that wouldn’t you? Just like the rest of them.” He briefly glances away, and I barely have a chance to wonder who “the rest of them” are before he continues. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They probably will penalize the hell outta me and give Jimmieboy a slap on the wrist.”

He suddenly pushes his way past me, storming his way to the door, and I follow him instantly. I meet him at the door, slamming it closed hard with the palm of my hand as he tries to run out. I’m not finished with him yet. He’s not getting away that easy. He turns to glare at me, and I can see the anger coming off of him in waves, but it’s nothing compared to how I feel.

“Maybe Jimmie will ‘get off easy,’” I snarl at him. “But did you ever think maybe he earned that respect? That since he doesn’t drive like a maniac, he might get cut a little bit of slack?”

I watch as he only seems to smirk at my words, leveling his eyes with mine. “You’ve always got your head up his ass don’t you, Gordon? Funny, that didn’t seem to keep him from leaving, now did it?”

“You son of a bitch,” I growl at him and grab him by the arms, slamming him hard against the door. I want to hit him, make him bleed. I want to make him hurt. But as he glares unflinchingly at me I realize there’s a much better way to make him hurt than to beat his face in.

I can feel the cruel smile cross my lips even as I mock him, “At least I knew Jimmie was getting married,” even if I didn’t know why I finish to myself. I force that thought away, however, and continue, “You were so dense that you didn’t even know that Junior’s been running around with Truex since last season. I guess you just weren’t worth telling.”

*****

I hate him.

I fucking hate him.

I fucking hate them all. I hate Junior for betraying me and making me look like a fool. I hate Jimmie for always getting his way and NASCAR for letting it happen. But most of all I hate this bastard in front of me for being right, for mocking me, for screwing me one minute and treating me like shit the next.

I put my hands against his chest and shove him backwards as hard as I can. “Get your hands off me, Gordon,” I spit out at him. I can’t believe I ever let this bastard touch me. What the fuck was I thinking?

I’m suddenly torn from my thoughts, however, as I hear his mocking laughter. “Oh, now you don’t want me to touch you. Funny, you didn’t seem to mind too much when you attacked me.” I grit my teeth as I can’t deny his words. I did want him. Hell, if I’m honest, I’ve wanted him since Daytona. When did I get so fucking twisted? Why do I want to be with someone who treats me like I’m nothing? I get enough of that from D…hell, even from Junior. I feel him move closer to me, invading my space once again and I’d love nothing more than to tackle him to the floor and kick his ass…or….

“I bet you want me even now. Don’t you, Havoc?”

My eyes snap up to meet his at his taunting words and I see the blue fire of his eyes blazing with anger that I know is a match for my own. He’s breathing heavier in anger, just like I am, and my gaze is drawn to his sneering lips.

“I hate you,” I tell him softly and swear I mean it. I really, really do.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he replies even as he leans into me, and I want to push him away. I want to knock him across the room. I even bring my hands to his chest, ready to shove him back again.

But I don’t.

Instead I grab fistfuls of his shirt and jerk him to me at the same time he lunges forward crushing his lips to mine. I shouldn’t be doing this. I know that. But as his tongue finds mine in a fierce kiss, full of anger and frustration, I surrender to it, and the kiss becomes a battle of wills no different than the harsh words of only moments ago.

His hands are grabbing at me, pushing me against the door, but I only let him pin me there for a moment before I’m moving forward, backing him against a counter in the kitchen. I feel his hand at the back of my neck, holding me to him possessively as he attacks my lips, and I figure two can play at this game. I run my hand up the back of his neck and pull off his hat. Then I thread my fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck, gripping it tightly and pulling his head back to break the kiss.

“What the fuck,” he growls as he winces in obvious discomfort, but then I pull his head to the side and lunge for his neck, sucking hard at his pulse point. I hear him moan softly as his nails dig into the back of my neck, and I bite none to gently at his neck in return.

Suddenly I feel him pushing me backwards, and I grab on to him to keep from tripping. I flinch as my lower back slams into the kitchen table and have to catch myself with my hands even as he leans me backwards. “Shit, Jeff,” I snap at him as he continues trying to push me back, but then I feel his hands underneath my shirt pushing it up roughly. I let him tear my shirt over my head and then run his hands over my bare chest, and I can’t help but tremble. Why the hell can he do this to me?

Why can’t I make him stop?

*****

I can’t stand him. I really can’t. His cocky attitude. His biting sarcasm. But as I pull his shirt over his head and see lust-filled emerald eyes boring into mine, I can’t hold back. I want to touch him. I need to feel him. And I can’t help but run my hands over the hard plains of his chest, feeling his warm, rich skin. I want him again. God, I want him already. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I craving him even more than….

I don’t even let myself finish the thought. Instead I lean forward, pushing him back, and I feel him grunt at my rough actions…but I don’t care. I press myself against him, running my tongue across his neck and then kissing a wet trail down his chest. “Oh, fuck,” I hear him groan and I glance up to see him throw his head back, that same sexy frown marring his face. I see him grit his teeth and I lean over him, first sucking at one flat nipple and then nipping it with my teeth.

“Shit,” he cries out and I start to pull back, but then he speaks again. “God, don’t stop!” I grin seductively at him and lower my head ready to make him scream again when I freeze as I hear a sound that makes my blood instantly run cold.

A knock at the door. Someone trying to open it. Thank God it’s locked.

Only one person would do that.

Jimmie.

Oh God.

I pull back from Kevin suddenly, eyes wide with panic and he frowns at me, obviously not understanding. I see him start to say something, but then the knock comes at the door again, and I see his eyes widen in surprise. “Shit, shit, shit,” I curse and grab his shirt off the floor and toss it to him…not that it matters. There’s no way I can explain Kevin being here. What the hell am I going to do?

“Jeff, are you there?” I hear the muffled question through the door and instantly know I’m right. It is Jimmie.

“Oh my God, the prodigal son returns,” I hear Harvick say mockingly behind me, and I turn to glare at him.

“Shut the fuck up, Harvick,” I hiss at him. “And get out of sight. Now!” Then I turn to make my way towards the door, calling out, “Hold on, I’m coming.”

“Jeff, wait,” I hear the voice right behind me and my hand freezes on the door handle.

“Kevin, I told you to--”

“Shhhh,” he shushes me, and I look at him in confusion and irritation. “Your neck,” he says reaching for my firesuit and trying to help me into it. Finally I realize what he’s saying and slap his hands away, sliding my arms back into the heavy fabric even as he zips up the front. I look at him in surprise, that he actually seems to care about me, but then just shake it off as I reason he probably wants to be found with me about as much as I do him. Finally I turn back to the door, take a deep breath, and pull it open.

“Jimmie…” I say softly.

He looks up at me, a frown on his face, and I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off. I know he sees right through me. He always does. What am I going to--

“Jeff, are you ok? You look--”

“I was asleep,” I say instantly, rubbing my eyes and trying to play the part. I look up to see him frown even more, and I know I can’t let him question me on this. He’ll know I’m lying. “What’s up?” I say quickly hoping he’ll just answer me and not wonder why I’m not inviting him inside.

“Oooooo, Jeffy you look flushed…,” I flinch as I hear the soft teasing words in my ear, and I swear I’m going to kill the little shit for this. Why can’t he just disappear?

“Jeff, are you…,” Jimmie gives me another hard look, and I know I’m busted. He knows this look on me, I swear he does. He’s not going to buy this. “So can I come in, or what?” he asks, a suspicious look on his face.

“No,” I say too quickly and accusing brown eyes bore into mine. “I mean, look, I was…I was about to get in the shower, ok?” I give him a pleading look, hoping he’ll buy my lame ass excuse when I hear a teasing whisper in my ear again.

“Yeah, Jimmiebaby, I’m all alone. I’m just all hot and heavy cuz I was heading to the shower to jerk off and think of you.” I barely spare a glance to the other side of the door my hand is resting on and see Kevin smirking at me, green eyes sparkling with mischief. If he only knew….

I instantly push thoughts of my latest fantasies out of my head and focus on Jimmie again, who’s still looking at me suspiciously. “C’mon Jimmie, don’t give me a hard time, alright?” I shoot him a hard--pitiful--look trying to get him to not press me. Maybe he’ll just…God, maybe he’ll just think he caught me doing exactly what smart-ass Harvick just said. So I’ll look pathetic, that’s better than him knowing Kevin is here right? “So what’s going on?”

“I just wanted to come by and see if I could get you all worked up and sexually frustrated before prancing off like a magnificent poof.” I grit my teeth at Kevin’s irritating words and try to determine if I can get away with kicking the crap out of him without Jimmie noticing.

Jimmie gives me one more strange look and then I see his eyes widen just a fraction. Wonderful. Now he thinks I’m a lame-ass, pitiful loser. Just great. “Umm, well, Chad said the car was low after the race, something about a loose jack bolt. I think they found something on Kyle’s car too. We need to go talk to them, you being the car owner and all….”

He gives me a long look, and I can’t even begin to read his expression. What does he want from me? What does he expect me to do? Fix everything for him…like I always have? I swear part of me wants to pull Kevin from behind the door and throw it in Jimmie’s face. But I won’t. No, I’ll just stand here like a fool and let him think I’m just pathetically pining over him…which I would be if Kevin hadn’t come by. How did my life get so out of control?

“Sure, Jimmie,” I tell him, resigning myself to spending the rest of the evening arguing with officials. But what else can I do? “You go on and meet Chad, I’ll jump in the shower and be there in a few minutes, ok?”

“Shower, jerk off, fuck people you can’t stand…same diff, right?”

I grip the frame of the door harder and try desperately to keep from wringing Harvick’s neck. I watch as Jimmie shoots me another sympathetic look and nods to me. “Alright. Take your time. I’ll let Chad know you’re coming.”

Instantly I hear smothered laugher to my left at Jimmie’s words, and I know I can’t keep up this sad little charade much longer. “Fine, I’ll see you in a few minutes, Jimmie,” I say quickly and shut the door in his face. Then I turn to Kevin, keeping my voice down just in case Jimmie is still around, and growl, “You fucking son of a bitch!”

He’s still laughing at me even as I grab him by his arms and press him back into the corner by the door. “Take your time, Jeffy. Jimmie and Chad will still be waiting,” he says and snickers at me again.

“You’re such an asshole, Kevin,” I tell him, gritting my teeth at the complete stupidity of the situation.

“Yeah and you like assholes, dontcha Jeff?” he asks me with that same infuriating grin, and I want to strangle him and crush him against the wall beneath me all at the same time. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a way I can get him back?

“Maybe I do, Kevin,” I tell him with a grin. “And you’re just the right amount of convenient to make it almost worthwhile.” I see him frown at my words but I don’t give him a chance to respond. Instead I press my lips to his, reaching one hand down to stroke him through the rough denim of his jeans, and it’s just as I thought. He’s still turned on. Perfect. Just perfect.

I continue rubbing the palm of my hand against the growing bulge in his jeans and slide my other hand up his arm. Then I break the kiss and start nipping at his neck, smiling when I hear his soft moan. “Yes, Jeff,” he whispers, and I know it’s time.

I step back, just a bit, and pull him with me. Then I reach my hand behind him for the door handle, silently pulling it open. I feel him reach up, running his fingers through my hair and for a moment I reconsider my actions. But then I remember everything he said and the way he mocked me right in front of Jimmie. No, he’s a jerk, and it’s time I made him suffer a little.

I pull him against me even more and yank the door open behind him. Then I push him back causing him to stumble out of my coach. He barely keeps his feet underneath him, and I have to laugh at the completely shocked look on his face.

Bastard thinks he can screw with me and get away with it? I don’t think so.

*****

I feel him pull me closer and I’m actually surprised he took my teasing so well. I know I shouldn’t have been such as ass, but honestly, I couldn’t help it. It was just too easy. Damn, I swear he makes me want him so much. I let him drag me forward as he strokes me through my jeans and again I can’t believe how easily he turns me on. Is he really gonna blow Jimmie off to be with me?

The thought actually makes me feel wanted for the first time in a long while. I melt into him as he kisses my neck, losing myself to the feeling when suddenly he pushes me backwards and I stumble…outside?

I look up at him, standing in his coach with a smirk on his face. What the hell? Why did he--

“Just get the hell out of here, Harvick. I have better things to do.”

His cold words actually take me by surprise. What the hell was I thinking? That he actually wanted me here? As if. He’s already made it perfectly clear that he thinks I’m worthless. Why did I even think….

It doesn’t matter. I don’t need him or anybody. I look up at him and glare at his ice blue eyes and smug face. Fucking bastard. “Yeah, sorry, I forgot. You still need to go crawl up Jimmie’s ass. Have fun with that, Wonderboy.” And with that I turn sharply and start heading anywhere but here.

Stupid prick. I half expect another sarcastic comeback from him and glance over my shoulder only to see him slamming the door. Asshole. What? Does he actually think I give a damn? Let him go kiss Jimmie’s ass. See if I care. It’s about time this insanity came to an end anyway because that’s all it is, right? Nothing but two people who can’t stand the sight of each other having a good time. Nothing more.

So why is it that his words cut so deep?

I’m not worthless. He’s just an asshole. But if I’m not…then why did Junior blow me off like I’m nothing? Why does D treat me like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience unless I’m winning? Why can’t I find anyone who actually cares about me? I shake my head and try to push these thoughts out of my head like I do practically 24 hours a day, but for some reason it doesn’t seem to work.

“See if you can find someone who might actually be interested in your worthless cheating ass.”

The words echo through my head again, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s right…again. Why else does everyone always treat me like shit? No one gives me any respect, no matter what I do. Why should he be any different? And why the fuck do I care what fucking Wonderboy thinks so much? He’s just an arrogant asshole who just takes what he wants when he wants. Didn’t he all but prove that in California?

I shake my head again as I finally reach my coach and quietly slip inside. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize that it seems to be empty. Thank God I don’t have to deal with the bitch queen on top of everything else. I walk slowly through the silent, lonely space and head straight to the bathroom for my second shower of the day. Might as well wipe away all traces of that stupid bastard once and for all.

I lean into the shower, turning on the hot spray and then strip out of my T-shirt and jeans, chiding myself again for expecting more from him. I know the score. I’m nothing more than a convenient fuck. He all but said it himself. So why the hell can I not stop thinking about him?

I slip into the shower, closing my eyes and letting the warm spray wash over my body and suddenly remember the teasing words I mocked him with about Jimmie. God, if he only knew where that all came from. If he only knew that since Daytona I’ve found myself thinking of him--more than once--and after today….

I can’t deny it. I know that even though his words cut me like a knife, the rest…the rest of what happened has given me enough to fantasize about for months. Shit. How sad am I? I need to put this all out of my head because it’s obviously over. He obviously can’t stand the sight of me, throwing me out on my ass like that. But even as I try to push away all thoughts of him, I realize my body is still aching for his brutal, fiery touch. Why can’t I just make this all go away?

I close my eyes again, remembering the way he shoved me backwards over the table and tore my shirt off, blatantly in anger. An anger that actually matched my own. But it seems the more angry he makes me, the more turned on I get. When did I get so fucked up? Why do I want someone who obviously hates me?

Right now I just don’t care. Right now I just want to stop this unbelievable longing so I let myself continue to replay today’s events in my mind. His hands roaming roughly and possessively over my body as if I belonged to him. How does he make me feel that way? I imagine that we didn’t get interrupted this time as I finally reach down and do the same thing I was mocking him for earlier, taking my hard length in my hand and stroking the sensitive flesh.

I see him looking down on me, eyes full of fire, as he tugs down my jeans again and leans over taking me into his hot, wet mouth just like he did in California, and I feel myself tremble. I imagine him sucking me hard, taking me in all the way, even as his molten blue eyes look up to meet mine. And then he pulls back, pushing slowly inside of me as he strokes me faster, harder with his hand, and I can’t stop staring into his blazing eyes. Finally it’s too much, even in my mind, and I feel my body shudder as I groan, “Fuck yes, Jeff,” and I wonder…will he ever look at me that way again?

*****

I grit my teeth and slam the door, cutting off his cruel, sarcastic words and storm down the small hallway to my bedroom. I walk quickly over to my closet, angrily digging through my clothes for something to wear and end up throwing a polo and a pair of jeans on my bed. Stupid, fucking Harvick. What right does he have to taunt me like that? Saying all those things about Jimmie….

That are so true.

No. No, they’re not. Why am I even thinking that Kevin could possibly know anything about me…anything about me and Jimmie. He doesn’t even have a clue….

“You’ve always got your head up his ass don’t you, Gordon?”

I clench my fists at the remembered words. That’s not true, even if I am hurrying to get cleaned up so I can go argue with officials for him…. No, I’m his car owner, that’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what Rick would do, right? So why do I feel like I’m trailing after him, just like I always have. Didn’t it used to be the other way around?

“Funny, that didn’t seem to keep him from leaving, now did it?”

Stupid, fucking, Harvick. What does he know? He doesn’t know anything about, us I think as I strip out of my firesuit and head into the bathroom. He doesn’t know why Jimmie….

I actually stop as I realize that I don’t even know why Jimmie left me. I glance over at the shower and remember the way Kevin mocked me about being “frustrated” where Jimmie’s concerned. Surely he doesn’t really know. Surely I haven’t become that transparent. God, when did I become so pathetic? And why does Harvick of all people have to be the one to point it out to me?

I start to make my way to the shower when I suddenly catch my reflection in the mirror. I stop again then slowly move closer, tilting my head and bringing my hand up to touch the dark mark on my neck. It’s right at the base of my throat where my neck meets my shoulder, and I swear I can all but see teeth marks as I remember the way he attacked me in the kitchen. Pulling my hair, sucking at my throat….

I feel a small smile tug at my lips at the memory, so fresh and so different. I swear Kevin is just so…wild. No matter how crazy I get he just throws it right back at me with the same unbelievable intensity. I look in the mirror again and finally grimace as I realize I’m going to have to manage to hide this mark for days at least. Lovely. I’m so going to have to get him back….

Next time.

That’s when it hits me. What if there isn’t a next time? Suddenly I remember all the cruel things I said to him in anger. Calling him worthless, convenient, mocking him about Junior again. The way I threw him out on his ass. Why would he ever want to come near me again? Sure he said plenty of cold things to me, but didn’t everything he said have at least a grain of truth?

I shake my head and remember the hurt look in his eyes he tried so desperately to hide. The anger that came off of him in waves when I called him a maniac and a cheater.

“You’d just love that wouldn’t you? Just like the rest of them.”

The rest of them. I was so pissed at the time I barely gave his words a thought, but now I finally realize. When does he ever get even the smallest amount of respect from anyone? Oh sure, he can be a reckless freak sometimes, but still…. Even I have to admit he seems to get the short end of the deal more times than not. And after the way I threw him out I know he’s not going to be coming around here any time soon.

But what can I do? It’s not like I can actually go and talk to him. I wouldn’t even know how. So how can I possibly let him know that I was just pissed, pissed at him for calling me on things I don’t even want to admit to myself. And why the hell do I fucking care? It’s just Harvick. But then I see the mixture of hurt and rage in his eyes as he left, and I know that I crossed the line. I never should have….

Enough.

I don’t have time to worry about Kevin now. I have to…I have to go deal with Jimmie and Chad. I have to take care of my own business. Even if it means chasing after something I can no longer have. Even if it means I’m still being a pathetic loser. I don’t have a choice.

Finally I turn back to the shower, stepping in and turning on the water so I can hurry up and get cleaned up and can’t help but think….

What happens now?

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com