Aftermath

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Unforgotten Series : Aftermath

Summary: Jeff must face the consequences of Unresolved.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
SEQUEL TO: Unresolved
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: The Unforgotten Series
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Jimmie Johnson, Jeff Gordon/Tony Stewart implied, Alternating POV
CATEGORY: ANGST
COMPLETED: October 25, 2004
WORD COUNT: 14,184
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. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a sequel to Unresolved which can be found here. It would probably be a good idea to read it first because this picks up right where Unresolved leaves off. I would also like to ask that you all keep the Hendrick family in your prayers after the tragedy today. I hate to post something so angsty today, but rest assured there is a happy ending.
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As I step outside the coach the cold rain hits me in the face full force, but I don’t even notice. I think I’m still stunned, maybe even in a bit of shock. How did things get so far out of hand? I can still feel the sweat and stickiness covering my body and I shudder. What have I done?

I walk away from Tony’s coach into the downpour not looking back, never looking back. I want to pretend this never happened. I want to believe I never followed him inside and this is nothing more than a sick nightmare. I want it to be that he never showed up at my door and I never let him inside. Why did I let him inside? I want to be laying on my couch with Jimmie still in my arms.

Jimmie...

I suck in a choked breath as I remember. His eyes full of betrayal as he stood there in the kitchen, accusing me without saying a word. His face as the rain slid down his cheeks, so lost and hurt and alone. His pain radiating from those beautiful soft brown eyes as he told me he understood and walked away. Those pain-filled eyes full of heartrending agony that will haunt me for the rest of my existence. What the hell was I thinking?

I feel sick and nauseous and cold all at the same time. Cold. So very, very cold. Will I ever be warm again? Do I deserve to be?

Look up to see that I have made my way to his door, but how can I possibly knock and beg for entrance after what I’ve done? How can I come here and be with him after betraying everything we have? I don’t deserve his strong arms and lean body pressed to mine. I don’t deserve his soft kisses and tender caresses. Will I ever feel him that way again or have I destroyed everything that was ever sacred to me all in one deluded night? Can he ever look at me that way again after I let Tony fuck me?

I turn away sharply, spinning on my heel to walk back into the rain. I wander aimlessly through the motorcoach lot with no set destination. What was it he said? “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go but you.” I realize I’m no different, as there is no place I can go, no place I can feel whole but him. But what if he doesn’t want me that way anymore? What if I have lost my entire world in one idiotic act of fucking stupidity?

I feel the cold rain washing over me, chilling me straight down to my soul. I just wish it could wash away this filth inside of me. I just wish it could bathe away all my sins and drown this night completely out of existence. I’m dirty. I’m covered in regret and remorse and overwhelming shame. I let what we have be violated and torn apart for no reason. I just want this cold to seep into my bones and my heart and make this agony end, but I have no right to even wish for that.

I cheated on Jimmie.

No matter how I’d like to pretty it up, I cheated on Jimmie. I betrayed him. It doesn’t matter that he told me to go with his words. His eyes were pleading with me to stay, to come back with him and let him bury himself in my arms. His entire being was screaming out to me please don’t do this, and I ignored him. I pretended I didn’t hear his unspoken cries, but I did. I heard every word. And I went anyway. And I let Tony Fuck me.

I’d like to say I didn’t know that’s what would happen. I’d like to convince myself that I was just going to hold him and give him comfort. But I knew. I knew the minute he walked through my door and his dark eyes met mine what he wanted, and I gave it to him, and I still don’t know why.

Maybe I thought I owed him. Maybe I thought if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be where I am now. What if that’s true? It still doesn’t excuse what I did. It still doesn’t change the fact that I went with him to his coach to fuck. And that’s just what it was, fucking.

Oh, I’m sure it meant more to him. I could feel that. But, what was I thinking all night long? I just need to do this for him. I just need to help him. It’s not really cheating if I don’t enjoy it. It’s not really betrayal if Jimmie tells me to go. But, I did enjoy it, no matter how I tried not to. I betrayed Jimmie with every sigh, every moan, every shudder of pleasure. I thought I could go with him and just let him use me, that it wouldn’t mean anything, that it was just a one-more-time for old time’s sake. But it wasn’t. He wouldn’t let it be, and I feel all the more dirty because of it.

It wasn’t just sex. It was comfort and passion. If it was just sex, I wouldn’t have held him until he went to sleep, all the while wishing it was a different body curled around mine. But would it have been any better if I had just let him take me in a dark corner along the way to his coach? Would that have made a difference? It would still be betrayal no matter how it happened because I let it happen.

I remember giving in to him, letting him kiss me, thinking maybe that would be enough. Maybe I could just hold him and it would be enough. But then he begged me for the night, and I give that to him as well. Why? Why did I drag him down the hall to our room, almost into our bed?

A fleeting image runs through my mind, harsh and vivid in its intensity, of laying there in our bed fucking him, holding him, comforting him as Jimmie walks in. I imagine the pain and hurt and complete violation in his eyes as he sees Tony and I destroying and mocking everything sacred that’s taken place in that room before now, savagely tearing apart years of love and tenderness all in one gross act of lust. I hear cold-hearted laughter as Jimmie runs from the room and I don’t know if it’s coming from me or Tony.

I shake my head violently, trying to rid my mind of this image. That didn’t happen. I didn’t let it. Instead I rented myself out like a whore and followed him to his place, slinking out from my coach like a cheap prostitute. But does it really matter that I took him from our room? Does it really matter that it was another bed that I committed my ultimate sin? The bottom line still remains the same.

I cheated on Jimmie.

I look up as I somehow find myself back where I started, staring at his door. I feel my body trembling as I finally do let the cold in to overtake me, freezing my emotions and leaving me nothing more than a hollow shell. I don’t deserve the burning, blinding warmth of his love. I don’t ever deserve to feel the sun in his eyes and in his touch, burning away everything but the two of us. I’ve debased that love in the worst way, and I should run from his door, freeing him from my corrupted touch and diseased heart. He deserves so much more than what I am obviously able to give.

But I can’t. I have nowhere but him. And as much as I hate myself for it, I knock softly on his door. I know in this moment I am lower and worse than a cheap whore. A whore would go home to her own cold bed and her own misery instead of taking her pain to share with someone she claims to love. I’m vile and dirty, and as I knock again I know I shouldn’t corrupt him. I should let him be free of me. But I’m too low for that. I need him. I’m selfish and horrible and won’t let him go without a fight.

My blood runs cold with terror as I see the door start to open, and all my determination drains away. What will I see behind that door? What will he do? Oh God, please don’t let him turn me away.

*****

I wake suddenly, jolted back to consciousness by what--I’m not sure. I didn’t even know I had fallen asleep. I didn’t even think I would ever be able to sleep again. I hear the rain still pounding its staccato beat on the window and realize this night hasn’t just been a dream. It’s real, and I’m alone here, curled up on my couch in clothes still wet from the rain.

I didn’t even bother changing after making the lonely walk home. I just stumbled in the door and fell on the couch not able to make it another step. My whole world came crashing down around me and dry clothes were the furthest thing from my mind. I just sat here in this place, watching out the window like a sad voyeur as they walked past, reeking from lust I could all but smell. He didn’t even cast a glance my direction as he walked by. It was like I didn’t even exist. I wonder if he even thought of me.

I curl in on myself trying to push away the memory and the certainty of what would happen next as they went to his coach. Thoughts I don’t even want to imagine of him and that son of a bitch assault my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to block them out. I don’t want to know. I want to pretend this isn’t happening. I don’t want to picture him lying there with him, and I don’t want to admit I all but sent him there.

Why didn’t I stop him? Why didn’t I at least try, instead of running home, tail between my legs? I all but gave him away to that fucking bastard and I don’t even know why. Why did he leave me? Why did he go? Has this been going on all this time and I didn’t even know?

I jump as a soft knock on the door jars me from my thoughts. My heart is instantly in my throat and I wonder if maybe nothing happened. Maybe he changed his mind, I think, as I look to the faint green numbers on the clock above the TV. But my heart immediately sinks in my chest as it reads 1:37, over three hours after our conversation in the rain, over two since I watched him slink by with that goddamned asshole.

I slowly push myself off the couch and shuffle to the door. As I reach it I stop, cold fear filling me at what I might find on the other side. What if he’s here to tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if he’s decided he wants to go back to the scruffy, fucking prick?

I close my eyes against these thoughts and slowly reach for the handle. Whatever it is, I have to know. The uncertainly is eating me alive. Anything has to be better than this, I think, as I slowly open the door, my heart in my throat again.

Shattered.

Shattered is the only way I can describe him, standing there shivering in the rain. I stand frozen in time for a moment and all I can think is, what did that fucking son of a bitch do to him, before he stumbles forward and launches himself into my arms.

He’s soaked to the bone, I realize immediately, as he clings to me trembling. He buries his head in my shoulder and makes a noise that sounds like a strangled sob. I can do nothing but hold him tightly as I feel the tremors wracking his body become my own. I softly stroke his wet hair that’s plastered to his head, the same way he always does me, and I can’t help but wish I was the one being held and comforted.

I need to be comforted. I need to be held in his arms and be told everything is going to be alright. Instead, he’s holding on to me desperately, and it’s all I can do to offer him what little strength I have left.

Part of me wants to know what happened, why he’s so broken in my arms. But at the same time, there’s nothing I want to know less. As it is, I don’t know how I’m going to face that asshole without trying to kill him.

He squeezes me tighter and I feel his icy cold cheek pressed against my neck, and I realize just how cold he really is. How long has he been in the storm? Why has he been out there so long, I think, as I try to will him to take warmth from me. But he just keeps shivering and I’m pretty sure it’s not all from the cold.

I need to make him warm. I need to get him out of these rain-soaked clothes, and I try to pull back a little. But he clings to me all the more and whimpers as I try to break away. I stroke his hair again, soothingly running my fingers through the short dark locks and I feel him sigh softly against my skin. I hold him for a few more minutes before finally trying to pull back again.

This time he reluctantly loosens his hold on me enough for me to reach down and thread my fingers through his. I give his hand a gentle tug, stepping back, but at first he doesn’t even move. Then I see his shoulders drop even more as he looks at the floor and follows me down the hall.

I lead him into the small bathroom and turn to him, pulling his soaked T-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor in a sodden heap. I can actually see him shaking now in the harsh light, and I realize I have never seen him look so small. He’s always been bigger than life, full of confidence and self-assurance. Nothing about him ever seemed small, and I always got the feeling he was looking down at me regardless of the fact that I’m taller than him. But right now he looks nothing like the strong vibrant man I fell in love with. Right now he looks like nothing more than a broken, scared little boy.

I turn from him, wanting to push these thoughts from my head, and turn on the hot spray of the shower. He’s still yet to meet my eyes, I realize, but right now that’s probably for the best. I don’t know what I will find in those stormy blue eyes and I don’t even think I could hold the intensity of his gaze.

I turn back, pulling off my still damp shirt, and reach for him again. I slide the soaked sweats down his legs and he obediently lifts his feet as I tug them off and toss them aside. Then I discard my own jeans and pull him with me into the steaming shower.

As we step into the small space, I turn him towards the hot water cascading down on us and wrap my arms around him again. He leans back against me, and I just hold him until I finally feel his skin start to warm and his trembling begin to subside. I can’t help but bury my head in his neck, inhaling his scent, wanting to lose myself in him. I don’t know how much longer I can be the strong one, I realize, as his essence assaults my senses--his essence still mixed with that of another.

I squeeze my eyes closed tighter as I pull him against me, and wish for the hundredth time that I hadn’t walked away. Something horrible has happened and I don’t have a clue how to make it right. So I just press desperately against him as he does the same to me, trying to reach through the pain and despair to find each other again.

Finally, I raise my head and open my eyes. I still feel the slightest of tremors washing over him, but his skin has lost that awful chill. I slide one of my hands comfortingly down his arm, and reach for the slippery white bar of soap on the wall. Then I reach around him, sliding it across his chest, but his hand instantly comes up to grab my wrist in a hard grip.

“No, Jimmie. Don’t,” I hear him whisper softly, but forcefully, as he tries to pry the bar from my fingers. He’s no longer leaning back in my embrace and his body has gone stiff. Tension is radiating from him as I release my grip on the soap and let him take it from me. He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t have to pull away from me. I know there’s no way I’ll be able to handle it if he does.

“Jeff...” I whisper his name, trying to convey my thoughts to him.

But he just replies in a low firm voice, “Jimmie, please don’t.” I feel dread run through me at his words, and all the warmth from the shower and his body against mine pours out of me, sliding down the drain. He takes a small step forward, pulling from my embrace as he starts running the soap over his body, scrubbing his skin. And I realize he no longer wants me here.

My stomach feels like it’s full of lead as I move back from him, stepping out of the shower without a look back. I reach for a towel quickly, drying myself off before I slip from the steamy room into my bedroom. I focus on nothing but finding some dry jeans to slide on, then walk bare-chested down the hall to the kitchen. I stop as I see the puddle on the floor from where we were standing earlier and bite my lip trying to force down all the emotions swelling within me. Any bit of strength I found when he fell into my arms is gone, replaced by uncertainty and gut-gnawing fear.

Why did he all but push me away? Why wouldn’t he let me take care of him, I wonder, as I step into the kitchen trying to find something to occupy myself and stop the freight train in my mind. I realize again how cold I now feel, and move across the room to start making coffee. The automation of this task temporarily quells my spinning thoughts, but once the water begins to heat and the coffee starts to brew, I’m left with nothing to do, and I again feel that same cold dread that’s been my constant companion tonight overtake me.

I walk over to the cabinet and pull down two mugs. Then I turn to open another door and rummage through boxes of macaroni, tuna fish, and other assorted prepackaged foods until my fingers brush over a box. And I freeze.

Hot chocolate.

Just like the hot chocolate I keep at Jeff’s place. Just like the hot chocolate whose aroma woke me up earlier tonight making me think he was fixing it for me. But he wasn’t. He was making it for him. He gave it to him. He gave everything to him. And I just stood by and let it all happen.

I drop my head, leaving one hand on the open cabinet door as I again remember walking away from him. Leaving him. Telling him I would share. What was I thinking? How could I walk away from him? Why did he let me? Why did he push me away?

I reach into the cabinet again, this time all the way to the back until my hand finally lands on the neck of a bottle. I carefully pull out the bottle of amber liquid that’s only half full and I can’t help but remember how it got that way. Another time, another place when we laughed and joked and drowned our sorrows over a bad race with steaming drinks, chasing away the cold. Will we ever have that comfortable peace between us again?

I grab the bottle, unscrewing the top, and pour a healthy amount of the aged whiskey into each of the mugs. I set down the bottle, staring at the twin cups, and can’t help reaching for one and downing the entire mug. The alcohol burns a fiery trail down my throat and into my stomach, warming me on the inside, but doing nothing for the chill in my heart. I cough a little and make a face at the harsh drink, and remember how he likes to tease me about my “whiskey face.” I close my eyes at the memory, hoping with my entire being we’ll have times like that again.

I look up and grab the bottle, refilling the empty mug, and have to force myself not to reach for it again. Then I deliberately set down the bottle and again rummage through the cabinets, trying to remember what else he put in this drink. I can see him in my mind, grinning at me, telling me he had tried something new and I just had to let him make it for me. I watch his beautiful hands in my mind as they pour the whiskey, then the coffee, and finally adding sugar to the steaming cocktail.

I turn and reach for the canister on the counter, placing it by the mugs as my mind drifts off again to a happier time. I remember how he just smiled at me as he added some type of whipped cream to the drinks and I teased him about how it looked like a girly dessert and asked if he wanted chocolate syrup with it. He just laughed and dipped his fingers in the cream, flicking it at my face before leaning forward to clean it off my neck with his tongue. We never did get to the syrup that night, and I’ve never quite looked at those foamy coffee drinks the same way again.

I realize in that moment that I’m lacking the final ingredient for these drinks and just sigh. It doesn’t really matter though. I’m not making them for the sweet tasting cream. I don’t even know if I could handle it right now, as my stomach churns at the thought. I just wanted something to try to chase away the chill I’ve felt ever since I saw them sitting there in the kitchen with so much unsaid.

I turn from the counter and fall down in a kitchen chair, putting my head in my hands at the memory. What if I never get him back the way we were? What if this is just the beginning of the end? What if he never looks at me with those vibrant blue eyes overflowing with love again?

*****

I hear him quietly slip from the shower, then leave the bathroom all together and I curse at myself. I shouldn’t have been such an ass. But there was no way I could let him try to wash away what I’ve done. This isn’t his sin to wash away. It’s mine. I’m the one who betrayed him. I’m the one who went to Tony’s coach, and I’m the one who’s covered in filth.

I scrub at my skin with the soap, trying to remove all traces of him. His hands. His smell. Why on earth did I think I could go and let him use me and have it not matter? Just because we had something once, why did I think it wouldn’t affect me? And why am I such a complete asshole, coming here and falling apart in Jimmie’s arms that way?

I saw the look in his eyes when he saw me. I saw the pain on his face as I fell into his arms, shaking like a fool. I never should have come here. I never should have dumped all this on him tonight. But I never expected him to be so comforting and forgiving. He didn’t even say a word, just held me, stroking my hair and holding me in the shower until I warmed up.

It was so easy to let myself get lost in his warmth. As much as I didn’t want to come here I couldn’t help but cling to him when he opened his arms to me, and once I did I just couldn’t tear myself away. It’s always been that way with him--I can never get enough. But I don’t deserve that anymore. I don’t deserve his love and soft caresses, and I sure as hell don’t deserve him trying to wash away the traces of what I’ve done.

That’s what did it. That’s what broke the comforting hold he had on me, I think, as I continue to scrub harshly at my skin. Him trying to bathe away everything I did wrong as if it would be that easy. But, I realize, he would let it be. He would just let it all go down the drain as if none of this had ever happened, and I can’t let him do that. I love him too much to brush this all way as if it was nothing because it’s not nothing!

He deserves better than this. I can’t let him be second in any way and I sure as hell can’t let him think he has to “share” me. I’m still stunned that he said he would do that. That he would walk away and let me be with someone else. That he did walk away to let me be with someone else.

What the hell is wrong with him, I think, as I reach forward, turning off the cold water and twisting the hot to full force. The water burns my skin, but I take no notice as I continue scrubbing my body, trying to get clean.

How I the hell could he walk away from me? I feel a small flame of irrational anger take seed inside me, and I cling to it forcing away the cold overwhelming me. He thinks it’s ok to share me? How could he do that? There is no way in the world I would ever let anyone else touch him! He’s mine. If he came to me the way I did him tonight, I would never have walked away. I would have fought for him. I would have fought for us! How could he not even fight?

I keep roughly scrubbing at my skin, not even paying attention to the fact that I’m rubbing myself raw in places as the insane flame of anger inside me grows. He just turned away, walking away from everything we have, everything we’ve shared. He just gave me up without a fight as if I wasn’t even worth it. How could he do that?!?

I toss the soap aside as I rinse myself again in the scalding spray before finally turning it off. Then I violently jerk open the shower door, slamming it behind me as I grab a dry towel and roughly dry myself off. Part of me knows I’m being completely irrational, that I have no reason to be feeding off this raging anger I’m allowing to consume me. But I can’t think clearly anymore. He abandoned me! And I have to know why.

As I finish drying myself off, I wrap the towel around my waist and reach for the door. I have to know why he would give up on us, why he would just turn away like the thought of me in the arms of another meant nothing to him. Do I mean nothing to him?

I grab the door handle, tearing it open, and step out into the hall. The cool air hits me, but doesn’t affect me as I’m burning with internal rage. I look first in his bedroom and, not seeing him, storm down the hall. I smell coffee brewing in the kitchen so I head straight there, noticing nothing along the way in my blinding, irrational anger. As I enter the kitchen I see him sitting there, head in his hands, and for some reason it pisses me off even more.

Is this all he’s going to do, just sit here passively letting everything just happen to him, not even trying to do anything about it? I can’t stand seeing him this way. I can’t stand him being so weak. Why won’t he stand up to me? Why won’t he even get mad?

“What the hell were you thinking?” I growl harshly at him, and watch as his head snaps up in shock. He’s looking at me with wide sad eyes, and almost seems scared at my sharply spoken words. What is wrong with him? Part of me wants to cross the room and console him, push away his misery with kisses and softly spoken words. But that won’t fix anything. That would just be pretending nothing happened, and we can’t move forward without dealing with this, whatever this is.

“Dammit, Jimmie. How could you do that?” I accuse him, trying to provoke a response. He left me and I have to know why, why he would just give up on us. I watch as he slowly pushes himself to his feet, using the table, and just stares at me in shock. He’s yet to say a word and his silence is just fueling my anger even more. “Why did you...” I start again, but stop as he finally cuts me off.

“What are you talking about Jeff,” he replies softly, and I can’t take it.

I step forward, pushing him in the chest with both of my hands, forcing him to take a step back as I shout, “How could you walk away from me?!? How could you turn your back to me? Why didn’t you fight for me? For us?!?!”

I finally see a flicker of anger in his eyes as he looks back at me, stepping forward so we are face to face. “Me? You’re blaming me for this? You’re the one that let that bastard in. You’re the one that brought him inside and all but sent me away.”

“I never sent you away Jimmie. You ran away,” I accuse him, and he pushes his way around me to pace in the small kitchen. He stops a few feet from me and finally glares at me, running his fingers through his wet hair.

“What was I supposed to do,” he asks coldly. “You had him in there confessing his undying devotion to you while you did nothing about it.”

“You never even gave me a chance to do something, Jimmie,” I counter. “You just ran away and forced me to go after you instead of standing up for us. Then you just walk away like none of this means anything, giving up on me without a fight,” I shout angrily at him. I know this is crazy. I know I shouldn’t be screaming at him this way, that he doesn’t deserve it. This is all my fault, and I know it. But I need him to be strong. I need him to be strong in us, and I don’t know how to make him see that.

“You think I wanted to walk away?” he cries back at me. “You think I wanted to let you go to him? Do you think I liked sitting here, wondering what was happening and watching you walk over with him to his place to do God knows what...”

“Fuck, Jimmie. I went over there and let him fuck me,” I say harshly. I have to get this all out. We have to deal with this now or we never will. I watch more pain cross his face than I have ever seen, and it’s everything I can do to keep from falling on the ground in front of him to beg his forgiveness. But he needs to get this out. He needs to face this, instead of keeping it all inside. I take a deep breath as I try once more to provoke him.

“Do you even care?” I ask, stepping forward, closing the distance between us. “Do you even care that he pushed me over his bed and fucked me? Do you even care that I...”

My words are cut off as I feel pain shoot through my jaw and I fall backwards onto the floor. I feel blood trickle down my chin as I look up to see his balled fist and blazing eyes staring down on me.

*****

Jeff.

Jeff and Tony.

Jeff spread out on Tony’s bed while that son of a bitch pounds into him.

Jeff crying out in pleasure.

The blazing anger burns through me suddenly and completely, consuming me in an instant inferno. I can’t think. I can’t feel. I need to make his words stop. I need to make this night go away. I need to do something.

I don’t even realize I clench my fist. I don’t even notice I pull my arm back. I don’t even feel the bruising pain in my knuckles as I strike out as hard as I can against all these images in my head. Against his rage. Against mine. Against Tony. Against all these emotions swarming through me, searing me with their intensity.

I stand here unmoving, breathing heavily as I finally look down to where he’s fallen a few feet away on the floor. There’s blood on the corner of his mouth, and I watch it running down his chin and onto his bare chest. I squeeze my fists tighter, closing my eyes, trying to hold on to the flame of anger inside, burning back my pain.

How dare he try and blame this on me? I was just trying to do the right thing. I was just trying to make him happy. Isn’t that what he wanted when he came to me in the rain? Didn’t he want me to give in to his unspoken request? He confesses to a past with that ass, telling me he can’t turn him away. Didn’t he want me to leave?

I remember the look on his face when he talked about him, the look on his face when he called after me, telling me he loved me...

He’s right.

The realization of that fact hits me full force and I instantly see he’s right. I did walk away. I did let him go, and I never should have done that. I should have fought. I should have kicked Tony’s ass when he said those things to Jeff and thrown him out myself.

But what I did or didn’t do is nothing compared to what he did. He followed Tony to his bed. He let someone else screw him. And judging from the time he got back here, it was more than a quick fling. He stayed with him. I bet he held him... the way he does me.

The rage is back, burning me inside, and I open my eyes to see he’s still sitting there looking up at me. His stormy blue eyes have lost their anger and I can see that he’s hurting. I can see that he’s sorry, but right now that’s just not enough. He brought this down on us. He’s the one who cheated on me and then came to me for comfort.

I reach down, grabbing him by the arm, roughly pulling him to his feet. Then I push him hard with both hands, causing him to stumble out of the kitchen and into the living room. I watch as he struggles to hold the towel around his waist as he turns toward me.

“You fucking bastard,” I accuse him shoving him back again. I step forward as he backs away and I can’t hold it all in anymore. All my hurt and pain comes flowing out of me in a rush of anger and harsh words.

“How dare you come here to me, reeking of someone else?” I shout at him, and watch his eyes widen and fill with pain. But I still don’t care. He needs to feel my pain. He needs to know what he’s done. He needs to feel pain.

“How dare you come to me for comfort after what you did?” I ask in a low voice, glaring at him. “You let someone else touch you. You went willingly. You...”

“Jimmie,” he pleads with me in an anguished voice, “it was meaningless...” But I don’t want to hear it. I’m tired of backing down. I’m tired of having him call the shots tonight. It’s time he heard me.

“Shut up, Jeff!”I shout loudly at him, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. “You’ve said enough tonight. More than enough.” I turn, pacing towards the kitchen, then spin back around and stalk back over to him. I pin him with my blazing eyes as images of him and that bastard run though my head again.

“You let him touch you,” I accuse him, stepping closer to him. “You weren’t thinking of me when you willingly let him put his hands on you,” I say, and watch as he shakes his head at my words, and I feel my anger increase even more. “No,” I shout at him again. “You don’t get to do that,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You don’t get to pretend to be the martyr thinking of me the whole time. You don’t get to be the one who’s wronged when you gave away something that wasn’t yours to give. When you gave away what was mine.”

His eyes widen in surprise at my bold words, but it’s in this instant that I know he is mine. Even after what’s happened, he is mine and I will never let him go again. I will never let him leave me this way again. I will never let him give himself to someone else for any reason. How insane was I tonight? How could I walk away? How could I sit idly by, watching them walk past, and do nothing?

I narrow my eyes at him as I remember the gut-wrenching agony I went through, praying he wouldn’t go through with what I knew he had planned, when I was sitting on my couch, curled up in despair as my other half was ripped from me. I look at him to see he’s looking down again, not meeting my eyes. I shake him, causing him to look up, because I have to know the answer to one question. I have to know what really happened.

“When you whored yourself out to him, did you enjoy it?” I step back and watch him as he looks away, and I feel that same blinding rage overtake me again. I don’t even think as I swing at him again, hitting him just under his left eye with my fist. Then I reach forward and grab his arm to prevent him from falling before pushing him forcefully over to the couch. I’m shaking with rage as I growl at him, “You enjoyed being his bitch?”

He’s shaking his head as he tries to turn to me, but I push him again, forcing him over the arm of the couch. “You want meaningless sex?” I shout at him, ripping away the towel around his waist and holding him down with one hand at I reach for the button of my jeans. “You want to be a whore, Jeff?”

My anger is blinding me as I assert myself in a way I never have before. All I can think is, he jeopardized everything for nothing and I want him to hurt the way I do. I want him to feel ripped apart inside, and if this is what he wants I’m going to give it to him.

“Yes, Jimmie,” I hear his softly spoken words. “Take it all out on me.”

It’s like cold water thrown on me the instant I hear his words, extinguishing my burning anger and completely killing my desire. He wants me to hurt him. I stumble backwards in horror at what I almost did. His rage, his provoking me, he wanted to get me angry. He wanted to force me out of the mind-numbing pain that was consuming me by getting me mad, and I let him do it.

In flashes, I again see the events of tonight through different eyes. The sadness on his face at Tony’s words, knowing he could never give him what he wanted. The pleading in his eyes begging me to stop him when he called out to me as I walked away, telling me he loved me. The stiff way he walked over to Tony’s coach unable to look my way from shame. Showing up here, soaked to the bone and shaking after trying to drown away everything that happened in the rain.

We both screwed this up. It wasn’t just him. It wasn’t just me. We were both complete fools, too afraid to say what we really wanted to say. Too afraid to admit the depth of what we have. And now I’ve made it even worse. I hit Jeff. Twice. I tried to...

I suck in a sharp breath, unable to even finish the thought. What is wrong with me?

“Jimmie.”

I hear his voice call out to me and I just turn away. How can I face him after trying to hurt him? Can we ever make this right between us again?

“Jimmie.”

I feel his hand on my shoulder and I let him turn me around. I avoid his eyes, but he pulls my head down to his shoulder as he takes me into his comforting embrace. “I’m sorry, Jimmie, I just thought...” he trails off and I know what he’s trying to say. He didn’t know how to fix this any more than I did.

I lean into him, wrapping my arms around him, finally getting the comfort I’ve been craving since I walked away from him in the rain. I bury my face in his neck, trying to lose myself in the feel of him before I finally whisper, “I’m sorry,” against his skin.

“Shhh...Jimmie, it’s ok,” I hear him say softly as he runs his hand down my back.

But it’s not ok. I tried to hurt him. I did hurt him. He has to know I didn’t mean it. He has to know I’m sorry. “Jeff...” I try again.

But he just pulls me closer and murmurs in my ear, “I know, Jimmieboy, I know.”

We stay that way, clinging to each other, drawing strength from each other until he finally pulls back just a fraction and puts his hand on my arm. I raise my head to meet his endless blue eyes and he takes a step back towards the couch, pulling me with him. He sits down and lies back on the couch, and then pulls me down with him. I stretch out beside him, resting my head on his chest as I curl around him, wrapping my arm around his waist. He holds me close and I sigh in utter contentment as I finally feel his fingers running through my hair and stroking my face.

“I’m an idiot, Jimmie, a complete and total idiot,” I hear him say softly, as he continues to caress me. I start to reply to him, but before I can he continues, “I’m not even half of what you deserve, and there is no way I’ll ever be able to make you understand how sorry I am for... tonight. But, if you can find a way to forgive me, find away to let me love you again, I swear I will never hurt you again.”

I have to inhale a sharp breath at his emotion-laced voice. His words tear at my heart and for the moment I am unable to speak. Instead, I put my hand on this chest and look up at him, meeting his beautiful blue eyes that are overflowing with love just like I remembered. I see the stormy fear and concern swirling in his eyes as he waits for my response, but the love shining from those blue orbs is what washes over me and chokes me with emotion.

“Jeff,” I start, and have to take a deep breath before I can continue. “We both screwed up tonight, more than once.” I look directly into his eyes, willing him to believe my words completely. “But I love you. You are more than I ever thought I would find, and more than I ever dreamed of. I love you. I forgive you. Just please don’t ever leave me again.”

I’m unable to control the tremor in my voice as I speak these words to him, and as I finish his eyes grow softer as he whispers my name and leans forward, pressing his lips to mine in the tenderest of kisses. Then he pulls me close again and I hear him softly say, “I love you too, Jimmieboy, and I will never, never leave you.”

I sigh at his words and his soft caresses, melting into his arms. I know this night isn’t completely behind us. I know there are still things we will have to deal with. But I also know it’s going to be ok. We are going to be ok, I think, as I lightly run my hand along his side, pulling him closer. Everything is going to be ok.

*****

Gentle warm hands caress me as soft lips meet mine in a kiss full of love and tenderness. I melt into the feeling of completeness as he touches me, pressing his long frame against mine. I snuggle into his arms feeling a sense of home like nowhere else in his embrace as he breaks the sweet kiss and trails soft wet kisses down my face and over my neck. This is my sweet boy. This is where I want to be forever, losing myself in him until I don’t know where I end and he begins. This is what heaven is, his strong arms holding me close as he tenderly makes love to me.

I throw my head back, reveling in his touch, his caress. I feel his smooth skin against my neck and sigh in blissful contentment. It’s like everything else just melts away at his touch and there is nothing but the two of us in this moment. I stretch out against him on the couch, pressing my body to his. I just want to lose myself in his smell, his skin, his strong muscles underneath my hands. I savor all the sensations as his prickly face touches my skin and his large rough hands run over my body...

This isn’t him, I realize suddenly, as cold dread runs through me like ice water. This isn’t the hard lithe body I know so well pressing heavily against me. I feel his hands grabbing at me, taking instead of giving, and my throat closes up preventing my scream. I try to push him away, I try to make this not be happening again. I’m not his. I don’t want to be his. I don’t want this.

I feel myself roughly turned over and pinned down. I open my eyes and see blue. Blue silk sheets and I instantly know where I am. I don’t want to be here again. “No,” I cry out as I feel him behind me. I try to crawl away, to get out of here, but I’m forced down by a hand on the back of my neck pushing my face into the soft pillow. “No, please,” I beg. “Not again, please. I don’t want this. Please.”

I hear a harsh voice behind me, “I know you like it rough, Gordon,” and my blood runs cold. “I know you want this,” the voice mocks me again, and I try to shake my head. I don’t want this, I don’t. I try to block it all out. It’s not real. It’s not real. This can’t be happening again.

But it is. I realize, as I’m forcefully entered and pain washes through me physical and emotional as I’m violated. “Please, no,” I scream, as I buck against him, but he just pushes me down again with a rough hand on my back. I feel his weight against me and it’s all wrong. It’s all wrong as he pumps into me harder. I hear his low grunts behind me as I tremble, giving myself over in numb terror as I realize there is no escape.

But then his hard pounding slows and I feel a softer caress down my side. “No,” I whisper again, not like this. His large hand encircles me and I try to ignore it, try to focus on the pain I no longer feel. But my body betrays me again as I feel warmth spreading through me, and tears prick my eyes as I just wish he would get back to the rape. I don’t want this. I don’t want pleasure at his touch. Just please violate me and be done, I scream in my mind. But he doesn’t hear my pleas.

I feel pleasure building in me and it’s so much worse than the pain. “Please, please, not like this, please,” I sob, but he’s not listening as he gently strokes and pumps in and out of me. I don’t want this. Just let me be a whore, I think desperately, as the fire grows and consumes me. I hear a moan escape my lips and I want to die here and now. I can’t do this again. I can’t betray him again.

My body continues its assault against me as I start to tremble from pleasure instead of fear. I feel the physical, carnal heat taking control of me, no matter how I try and fight it. I’m shaking, and I realize I’m going to come and I don’t want to. I want this to end. I don’t want to be here.

“No, No, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...” I scream, trying to make it all go away.

*****

I wake suddenly to his screams, and turn to see what’s wrong. He’s shaking against me, trying to push me away and I realize he’s lost in a nightmare. “Jeff,” I call out to him trying to break the hold his dream has on him, but he fights me, pushing and shaking his head. What on earth is wrong?

“No, no please Tony, no,” I hear him all but sob, and I instantly know where he is.

I put my hands on his arms, trying to shake him from his dream, but he fights me again. “Jeff, it’s me. Wake up. It’s Jimmie. Wake up,” I tell him forcefully, surprised he’s so lost in his nightmare. What is he seeing?

Finally he stops fighting me and his eyes slowly open to meet mine. “Jimmie?” he asks, as if he doesn’t believe his eyes. He reaches up to touch my face and then sits up, falling into my arms. I still feel a few tremors run though his body and I remember how he was when he got here. Something bad happened to him, and it’s worse than he’s let on and I’m not sure what to do. So I just hold him until he calms down and completely wakes up.

He tries to pull away from me, but I keep holding him close, not ready to let him go yet. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against me, “bad dream.” He’s trying to downplay it, I realize, and I wonder if he knows what he was screaming. Something horrible happened tonight and he doesn’t want to admit it, and I don’t know how to make him...or if I even should.

Finally I lean back and I look at him and say, “Hey babe, you want a drink?”

He smiles at me gratefully, glad I’m not bringing up his dream, I’m sure, and says, “Yeah, that might be good.”

I slowly pull away from him and move to stand up. He watches me the entire time and I look down on him and say, “Your clothes are still here, same place.” He just nods to me before finally standing. I pull him in my arms for another moment before stepping back and moving towards the kitchen. I watch him stand and sigh heavily before he turns and makes his way down the hall.

I watch him until he finally walks out of sight, then move back into the kitchen. I spot the two half-full mugs still on the counter and the coffee still hot in the pot, and make my way over to the counter. I grab the coffeepot and top off the whiskey-filled mugs. Then I reach into the drawer to my right for a spoon and add a large spoonful of sugar to each. I watch as the sugar completely dissolves into the steaming liquid as I slowly mix each drink.

I look over as I feel him enter the kitchen and stop at the door. He’s got his hand on the doorframe, leaning against it and is staring off into space, obviously lost in thought. That’s when I finally take in his appearance.

For some reason, he’s wearing an old pair of my sweats that are way too big for him and has them cinched around his waist with the drawstring barely keeping them on his hips. A dark purplish bruise is already forming under his left eye and I wince knowing how it got there. His jaw and lip are swollen and I see there is still a little dried blood on his chin and shoulder. There are red splotches in places on his chest and arms I didn’t notice before that I can only imagine must have come from scrubbing himself in the shower earlier. His hair is a mess of spikes from drying uncombed. To put it bluntly, he looks like hell.

“Damn, Jeff. You look like shit,” I can’t help myself from saying.

He turns to look at me and rolls his eyes, giving me a “well duh” look before replying, “You think?” and walking over to drop down in the kitchen chair I was sitting in earlier.

I grab the steaming drinks off the counter and take them over to the table. Then I turn back to the counter to grab a kitchen towel that I fill with ice from the freezer. I walk back to him, handing him the crudely made ice pack that he takes gratefully and puts gently to his face. He winces at the cold and I instantly feel awful.

“Jeff,” I start searching for words as he glances up to me. “I shouldn’t have...”

“Yes, you should Jimmie. You should have done worse. I deserved it, and I know I would have done worse,” he finishes with a small smile.

I shake my head and smile back at him as I reply, “Thanks, I’ll be sure to remember that.” Then I walk over to the sink, finding a soft towel in the drawer on the side and wetting it under the water from the faucet. I walk back to him, kneeling in front of him and move his hand holding the ice away for a moment so I can clean the dried blood off his face.

“You really shouldn’t be babying me either you know,” he says conversationally, making no move to stop me.

I glance up to meet his eyes and reply, “Are you going to stop me?”

“Not on your life,” he replies, giving me another small smile that again makes him wince.

I gently wash away all the blood and get up to toss the towel in the sink. Then I walk back, sitting across the table from him and take a sip of the drink in front of me. It warms me going down and for the first time since I woke in Jeff’s coach I feel just a little bit better. But I can see he’s not sharing my feelings. He still looks miserable and I’m not sure what to do.

He needs to get past this. We both do. But he’s holding on to his pain, not wanting to let me in. I realize completely what he was doing earlier by making me mad. He was forcing me to deal with my feelings, even if it was through anger, and although I hate the fact that it ended with me wrecking his face, I have to say I’m not paralyzed by mind-numbing despair anymore. He let me get it all out and now he needs to do the same.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask, watching him closely for his reaction.

But he just keeps staring off into space, and replies, “About what?” completely avoiding my question.

I sigh, realizing he’s not going to make this easy. If I let him, he’s just going to let himself be consumed with his guilt, and no matter how deserved it may be I want him to get past this. I need him to, so we both can. I sigh at my thoughts and answer him, saying, “About your dream.”

“Nightmare,” he says immediately, correcting me.

I just shrug my shoulders at his words and reply, “Fine, nightmare. Tell me about it...”

He instantly starts shaking his head. “No, no I can’t,” he replies bluntly, still distancing himself from me in every way but proximity. “It’s not important,” he tries to convince me. But I can tell this is eating him inside, and even though I’m sure I don’t want to know what had him screaming in the other room, he needs to let it go. I reach across the table, covering his hand holding his mug with my own. He turns his head to look down at our hands and flinches.

It takes me a minute to figure out what’s wrong, until I take in where we are and how we’re sitting. The same way he and Tony were earlier in his kitchen, plus the towel full of ice. The memory should hurt I think, but now it just makes me feel sad and a little angry. How long is he going to let him come between us? The longer he holds on to this, the longer his presence will be here haunting us. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

“Jeff,” I say squeezing his hand in mine. “You have to stop this. You have to let it go, put it behind you,” I try and convince him. There’s no way we can move forward looking back. The thought runs through my head that maybe if I pissed him off he’d get over this, but I immediately know how stupid that is. He doesn’t need to be mad. That would just make it worse later. He needs to deal, so we can deal. I know he’s hiding something important from me, and it’s probably because he thinks whatever it is will hurt me. But he doesn’t need to protect me. I need to know. I have to get him to tell me whatever it is for the both of us.

He slowly raises his gaze from the table to meet mine, and I see confusion and denial swimming in his blue eyes. “How can I do that Jimmie? What right do I have to ‘put this behind me?’ If you only knew... You shouldn’t be taking care of me. You should be beating the shit out of me,” he says desperately. Then he whispers all but under his breath, “You shouldn’t have stopped.”

His whispered words hit me like a slap in the face. How could he possibly say that? What the hell is he thinking? I feel anger rise in me at his self-deprecating words. I’m not going to let him do this. How could he think I could do that? Why would he even want me to?

“Stop it, Jeff,” I say harshly at him and he jumps at my words. “How the hell could you even say that? I thought you knew me better than that,” I say anger lacing my words. “How could you possibly ask me to hurt you? How could you possibly think I could? Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?!?”

“I’m sorry, Jimmie. I’m so sorry...” he says in a voice still barely louder than a whisper as he looks down at the table again.

He just doesn’t understand. I don’t want him to be sorry right now. I know he’s sorry. I just want him to talk to me. I squeeze his hand, trying to get him to look at me again, but he just keeps his eyes directed at the steaming liquid in front of him. He shifts the towel full of ice against his bruises and I say, “Jeff, talk to me. Tell me about it.”

“I can’t, Jimmie, I just...” he trails off as he tries to get up, to run from me and I don’t let him. I hold tighter to his hand, preventing him from getting up all the way and he looks down sharply at me. Finally he reads in my eyes I’m not going to let him go anytime soon, and he drops back down into the chair across from me.

I watch him closely and release his hand when he moves to take a sip of the drink in front of him. He seems lost in thought, maybe searching for words, and I just wait. I’ll wait all night if that’s what it takes, but we’re going to fix this. I’m not going to just pretend everything is fine and done with when it obviously isn’t. His screams still ringing in my head are proof of that. I look down, taking a long drink, letting the sweet alcohol-laced coffee warm me some more.

I watch as he slowly reaches forward, lacing his fingers through mine. Then he lightly runs his thumb over the back of my hand in a gentle caress and I feel a familiar warmth spread through me at his touch. Does he even know what he does to me? I look up to meet his eyes and take in a deep breath at the smoldering look he’s giving me. I slowly lick my lips at that look and start to get lost in his burning blue eyes. I’m always drowning in him. Then I watch a slow sultry smile cross his face as he says, “Come on Jimmie, do we have to do this now?”

That’s when I realize exactly what he’s trying to do, and I jerk my hand away. “That’s not going to work either, Jeff,” I say harshly, giving him a hard look. He instantly wilts under my gaze and I watch as his shoulders slump and he looks back down to the table.

He runs his fingers through his hair before he finally says, “Fine, you want me to tell you, I’ll tell you. But you aren’t going to like it.”

I just nod at his words and wait for him to continue. He runs his fingers through his hair again and I can’t remember a time I’ve seen him so agitated. What happened to him? Once he finally speaks, his first words take me by surprise.

“At first it was you,” he says quietly, not raising his eyes from the table between us. “I didn’t even realize it was a dream. I thought we were still out there,” he says, as he tilts his head in the direction of the living room. “And it was wonderful,” he continues with a small smile on his face, seemingly lost in the memory. But then the smile fades from his face and he takes a deep breath.

“Then it wasn’t you anymore. It was... him.” He closes his eyes tightly at these words and I want to kill the bastard all over again. Instead I take a slow breath, trying to stay quiet so he can tell me what he needs to. “I was back there. I didn’t want to be there again... ever. Then he...”

“He hurt you,” I say, unable to keep from interrupting any longer. I can’t stand the look of pain on his face. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just drop it. How is it going to help anything for me to hear how that son of a bitch hurt him, and how much of this is dream and how much of it is memory? Jeff looks up at me and opens his eyes at my words, then slowly shakes his head as he puts the wet towel full of half melted ice on the table.

“That wasn’t the bad part, Jimmie...” he says slowly. “I could have dealt with that... I did... but...”

He pushes from the table and tries to run from me again, but I grab his wrist just as he’s about to get away. He looks back at me, wide-eyed, and in that moment I’m reminded of a terrified cornered animal just wanting to get away.

What more is there? What else does he have to say? I give his wrist a tug and say, “Sit down, Jeff.” I leave no room for argument in my tone and with a defeated look he sits down again.

He puts his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. I just watch him, waiting for him to continue. “Jimmie, you just don’t know,” he says quietly, and I reach for his hand, but he just shakes his head, folding his hands on the table. He stares down at his hands as he continues, “I betrayed you worse than you know...”

My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in my chest at his words and I’m afraid of what he’s going to say next. He’s obviously not talking about the dream anymore. What is going through his head? “What happened, Jeff?” I ask softly.

He jumps at my words, closes his eyes again and clenches his fists. Then he bites his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. “I wish he had just let it be...but he wouldn’t,” he says, and pauses for a moment. Then he looks up at me and I see the agony swimming in his blue eyes, nothing but raw pain.

“I didn’t just betray you by letting him in. I didn’t just betray you by going with him. I betrayed you with every sigh and every moan.” His eyes are filled with pain and apprehension as he says this, and he continues in a rush, “He made me enjoy it, Jimmie! I didn’t want to but I did. He made me...” His words trail off as he pushes from the table again, this time too quickly for me to stop him. He hurries off into the living room and I just sit for a moment, letting his words sink in, and finally understanding why he showed up here so shattered, why he wanted to be hurt, why he woke up screaming when he thought he was reliving it.

“Jeff,” I whisper to myself, as I push myself up from the table and walk quickly into the other room. He’s standing at the door with his head resting against it, one hand on the handle. He obviously wanted to leave and couldn’t. At least I don’t have to chase him in the rain, I think to myself.

I walk up behind him and slide my arms around his waist. He tries to pull away and whispers, “Jimmie, don’t,” but this time I don’t listen to him. Finally he relaxes in my arms and I speak softly in his ear.

“I’m glad he made you enjoy it...” I start, but he immediately stiffens in my arms, trying to turn around. “Wait, let me finish,” I tell him and he goes still again. “It would be so much worse imagining him hurting you. I’m already ready to kill him as it is. If he had hurt you, there’s nowhere on this earth he would be safe,” I say forcefully. “Come here,” I tell him as I take him by the hand pulling him back over to sit on the couch.

He’s trying not to look at me, and finally I gently take his face in my hands, turning him my direction. He still averts his eyes from mine, and I tell him softly, “Look at me.” He slowly brings his eyes to meet mine and I see so much grief and guilt still swirling in those blue depths.

I stare him directly in the eyes and say in a serious level voice, “I’m not mad at you for that.” He tries to shake his head and pull away, but I don’t let him. “Jeff, I’m not mad at you for that,” I tell him again, but he still won’t believe me. I slowly pull away my hands and lean back just a bit, studying him.

“Do you still love him?” I ask bluntly, and watch as his head jerks up, eyes wide.

“No Jimmie, I told you... Maybe I did once, I don’t know. But... No, I don’t have feelings for him anymore. If anything I have less then I did before. If anything, I hate him for what I did...” he says in a rush, desperate for me to believe him. And I do. I knew the answer to my question before I even asked it.

“You said he made you enjoy it,” I see him flinch at my words, but I continue anyway, “Did he make you feel the way I do?”

“NO!” he shouts at me, and I try to hide a small smile. “No way in hell,” he says and starts to continue, but I cut him off.

“Then how did you betray me?” I ask simply, knowing he knows what I’m referring to.

“Jimmie, I... He...” he stammers, trying to find words. I still don’t think he understands.

“Jeff, I know you. You tell me you don’t have feelings for him. You tell me it wasn’t like it is with us. But you still won’t let it go.” I reach forward, taking both his hands in mine and rub my thumbs across the backs of his hands. “I know you. I know it wouldn’t have been that hard for him. You’re a very... sensual person,” I say for lack of a better word. He looks away and I can’t help but smile. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you. And you have to get it through your head I’m not mad at you for what you think I am. I’m mad because you left, but I’m just as mad at myself for letting you. Let it go,” I say shaking his hands in mine for emphasis.

He looks back at me, and I squeeze his hands and say, “Will you ever do anything like this again?”

“Hell, no Jimmie,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well, good,” I reply with a smile, “because otherwise you’d be having to visit me in prison after I killed whoever touched you.” He smiles a little at this and I continue, “I love you. I forgive you. Now, please don’t bring him between us again.”

“No one will ever come between us again, Jimmie. I swear it,” he says forcefully, looking into my eyes. I lean forward, unable to keep from giving him a small soft kiss. He looks at me with pleased surprise and I just smile at him. No one can take him away from me. I know that now.

I rub my thumbs across the backs of his hands again, taking as much comfort touching him as he probably is from my caress. Then I glance over to the clock above the TV just to check the time. The faint green numbers read 6:29, and I realize that daylight will soon be upon us.

“Come on,” I tell him with a small smile. “Let’s get some rest.” Then I stand, pulling him up with me and lacing my fingers through his before turning to walk down the hall.

*****

As pulls me down the hall to his bedroom, I think for the hundredth time how much I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve his love, and I don’t deserve the forgiveness that he gives so freely. But he gives it anyway. And I know I am the luckiest person in the entire world.

I will never hurt him again. I will never give him a reason to have to forgive me. He is my entire world, and as much as part of me knows I shouldn’t let him take me back to his room, there is no way in the world I can stop him. I need him like I need to breathe, like I need food. He is my other half, and I know I could never survive without him.

We finally make it down the hall and step into his room. He pulls me slowly to the bed and turns to me. Anxiety fills me as I glance over to his bed. What if it’s not the same? What if he can’t get past what I’ve done, even though he says he can? What if I can’t?

I slowly shake my head as he turns to me, running his hands lightly down my arms. “Jimmie,” I tell him softly. “I don’t know if I can...”

“It’s ok,” he tells me in a sweet reassuring voice. I look up to meet his beautiful deep brown eyes and see nothing but love and tenderness reflected in those dark depths. “I just want to hold you, feel you against me,” he tells me softly, and there is no way I can deny him.

He moves closer to me and I feel his hands at my waist, pulling at the drawstring of the oversized sweats. I don’t know why I put on his clothes instead of mine. It just felt more comforting to wear something of his, to have something that belonged to him against my skin.

He slowly pushes the pants down my legs and then turns me, laying me across the bed. I watch as he slips out of his own jeans and slides into bed beside me. He immediately pulls me close, pressing his long form against me, and I have to sigh in contentment as his arm goes around my waist holding me tight. I feel his face against my neck and all I can do is melt into him, into his warmth that fills me completely.

We stay that way for awhile just taking comfort from each other, losing ourselves in the feel of each other’s skin. I close my eyes, losing myself to the feel of him, knowing there is nowhere else on this earth I’m supposed to be.

After a while I feel him shift on the bed, gently moving me to my back. I slowly open my eyes and see him leaning over me, his face only inches from mine, and I’m immediately lost in his bottomless brown eyes. I can’t even find words as he smiles at me before leaning down closer, his cheek barely touching mine as he whispers softly in my ear, “I love you.”

I can only sigh at his emotion-filled words, reveling in his closeness. Then he pulls back just enough to run his face across mine before leaning down, lightly brushing his cheek against the unbruised side of my face and quietly murmuring, “I love you so much,” in my other ear. He slides his face down, rubbing against mine and then down to my neck before dragging his face across it to the other side, peppering my skin with soft kisses, and I’ve never known anything so intimate.

“Oh, Jimmie,” I breathe as I feel his soft smooth skin against mine. He continues nuzzling my neck and slides down a little lower, still running his face over my body as if he’s trying to mark me, claim me in some way. I know in this moment that I have never been so complete. I have never known such love and intimacy as I do when I’m with him and it is beyond all words.

I feel his hands lightly tracing my sides as he continues rubbing is face across my chest slowly moving lower and lower. He’s taking his time, not missing a spot, claiming every inch of my body and I feel myself tremble. I hear as well as feel him let out a small moan at my body’s reaction to him, and the sound drives me even more out of my mind.

His hands slide down to my thighs as he runs his face across my abdomen, placing feather-light kisses across my abs. “Oh God, Jimmie,” I can’t help but whisper, and he slides down even lower, nuzzling my inner thigh with his cheek. I can feel my heart begin to race, as my breathing becomes more rapid and warmth spreads through me, comsuming me completely.

Suddenly he runs his soft cheek against my hard length and I can’t keep the moan from escaping my lips. He’s already driven me to the very edge with his gentle touches and caresses and this is almost too much. But he’s only getting started, I realize, as I feel him lightly run his wet tongue from the base of my throbbing erection to the tip, circling it and moving back down. I suck in a gasp as he finally takes me into his hot mouth, all the way to the base.

I claw the sheets on the bed with clenched fists and shake my head in intense pleasure. His hands are on my thighs, his thumbs lightly rubbing the sensitive flesh as he slowly, agonizingly moves his head up and down my length licking and sucking and driving me right to the edge. Never, ever in my life have I felt anything so intense.

“Jimmie, Jimmie, Jimmie...” His name is a mantra I chant over and over, never wanting this to end. He takes his time, letting my pleasure build again and again, but not giving me the release I’m dying for. I feel one of his hands trace down my inner thigh, his finger finding my tight entrance and probing me gently and my eyes roll back in my head at the sensation.

I know I’m babbling incoherently, but I don’t care. All that I care about is the two of us. Nothing and no one in the world will ever come between us again.

Finally he works the tip of his finger inside me and increases his pace, bobbing his head faster and sucking harder, and I know the end is near. I open my eyes and look down at him. I see deep brown eyes staring up at me and that’s when it is all too much. I come, shuddering underneath him, my mind shattering in a million pieces as he continues licking and caressing me as I come down from the blinding high he has sent me on.

I feel him pull away and I blindly reach for him. He moves into my arms, pressing his hard body against me, touching his lips to mine. I pull him down further and open my mouth to his eager kiss. I can taste myself on him and another low moan is torn from my throat. I run my fingers though his hair with both hands, holding him to me as I get completely lost in his kiss.

We continue to plunder each other’s mouths for what seems like an eternity before he finally pulls back, breaking the kiss. I immediately feel the loss and open my eyes to meet his. He stares deeply in my eyes before finally speaking and says softly to me, “I have to make love to you.”

I close my eyes as his words start to build my desire anew, the warmth in my stomach spreading through my body. I open my eyes to meet his again and just whisper, “Please...”

The smile on his face grows and he leans down to kiss my lips again before pulling away. I feel him move down my body again, sliding down so that his entire body rubs against mine and it is like every nerve in my body has become hypersensitive to his touch. He lies between my legs again and I feel him part them a little more. Then I feel him slip one slick finger into my tight passage and another long moan is ripped from my throat as I cry out, “Oh yesssssssss, Jimmie.”

He slides in another finger and then another, slowly teasing and stretching me and I feel my passion building even more. Then he leans over, running his tongue up my length again and I feel myself grow harder at his attentions. “Please, Jimmie, please,” I whimper to him as his teasing drives me out of my mind.

Finally I feel him remove his fingers from me and he slides back up my body, meeting my eyes as he does. Then he slowly enters me in one long thrust and we both cry out at the intense sensation. He stays motionless for a moment, just staring deeply into my eyes and I look up at him seeing nothing but love for me in his eyes.

“I love you, Jimmie,” I tell him softly, and he closes his eyes and moans in response, beginning a slow thrusting rhythm that I match eagerly. He’s still taking his time, savoring every moment and I don’t know how much longer I can take his gentle stokes. I reach up, putting my hands on his shoulders, pulling him a little closer and squeezing them hard. That seems to have the desired effect as he begins thrusting harder and faster.

I watch him as he closes his eyes. He’s panting from lust and exertion, and I have never seen anything more beautiful. I see him suck in his bottom lip and I reach up to touch his face, telling him softly, “Look at me.” His eyes, almost black with passion, open and I gasp at their intensity. I can feel myself start to tremble again underneath him and a slow smile crosses his face.

I feel him reach down with one hand, circling my hard length with his hand and pumping me in time with his thrusts. I want to throw my head back and close my eyes or writhe in passion, but instead I hold his gaze. I realize at that moment that I am panting along with him and my vision actually starts to blur as I’m so close to reaching the edge again. But still I hold his gaze.

“Jeff,” he whispers my name, and I see him bite his lip again.

“Yes, Jimmieboy, yes,” I tell him, and I see his face contort in exquisite pleasure as he cries out. The sight of him this way, so very beautiful, pushes me over the edge as well and I scream out his name again. Finally he pulls from me and drops down, half on me in exhaustion.

I pull his head to my chest and stroke his sweat soaked hair, and we both continue to breathe heavily as the passion beings to cool. He slides his arm around my waist and curls around me, and I revel in just how right this feels. How perfect this moment is.

I look over to see the sunlight streaming through the window and I realize how completely exhausted I am. I feel Jimmie snuggle against me and, judging from his slowed breathing, he’s either asleep or very close to it. I glance down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, lean up to place a soft kiss on his temple and hear him mumble against me.

I stroke his hair again as my eyes drift closed, unable to keep them open any longer. “I love you Jimmie,” I whisper, as sleep finally claims me, and I barely hear his mumbled response as he tells me he loves me too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As I mentioned at the end of Unresolved there is another sequel which takes place at the same time as this fic which is from Tony’s POV call Indiana. The link can be found below.

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

Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com