Indiana

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Unforgotten Series : Indiana

Summary: Tony remembers the way things were.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
SEQUEL TO: Unresolved, takes place at the same time as Aftermath
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: The Unforgotten Series
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Tony Stewart, Tony POV
CATEGORY: Angst
COMPLETED: May 27, 2005
WORD COUNT: 10,350
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
DEDICATION: This goes out to Pam who woke up my Tony muse with a vengeance. You are an amazing muse hunny and I'm so glad you chose me…sorta. *winks* And to Lissa for giving this a once over for me. Six eyes are better than two…lol. :-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, so when I wrote Unresolved and Aftermath I always wondered exactly what Jeff and Tony's relationship was. So after some prodding from Pam I finally asked Tony, and boy did he get talkative. I hope you all enjoy because this was just fun to write!
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: This fic takes place at the same time as Aftermath and is a sequel to Unresolved. It would probably be a good idea to read it first because this picks up right where Unresolved leaves off.
AUTHOR'S NOTE3: ~*~*~*~ denotes flashbacks.
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I lay unmoving as I hear the door close quietly and he slips back into the night…away from me. I let him believe I was asleep. I knew it would be the easiest thing for us both considering he didn’t even want to be here. I roll over on my back and stare at the dark ceiling as I force myself to come to grips with that fact. The fact that he was completely miserable in my arms. Oh, I know he “enjoyed” himself. He always did. But tonight….

He wasn’t even here.

And I didn’t even notice at first. I didn’t even care that I went to him asking for something I never should have, something he couldn’t deny me…and that it would all be obligation for him. I see that now. He comforted me because he thought he had to, and if the total despair coming off him in waves as he left is any indication, I may have completely fucked up his life.

I close my eyes as I remember the way he stiffened beneath me as I mentioned Johnson’s name. The way he fought me as we stepped into his bedroom that I just now understand. I know why he brought me here. This place is nothing to him. Here he could pretend it was nothing, or maybe let himself get lost in the past. But his coach…that was always off limits. It’s just for a different reason this time. Before he was too worried about that bitch finding out. But now…. Now, that place belongs to him and Jimmie, the fucking bastard.

I sigh and put my hands beneath my head, skin brushing against soft silk, as I stare up at the dark ceiling once again. I never should have let him go…either time. Hell, I had two chances and threw them both away, once in ignorance and the other due to nothing more than my own fucking pride. But shouldn’t I get a third chance? It’s that the way it works? Three strikes you’re out, right? Not two. But as I remember the emotionless way he was with me I have to shudder as I realize what I did tonight.

My god.

I used him.

I used everything we were to each other against him and I used him. Oh, it’s not like the first time we were together when I seduced him. No, he wanted that. It’s not like the second time when I took control again and gave him no choice. He wanted that too, to be freed from his miserable sham of a marriage. But this time…this time he didn’t want me. And I took him anyway. This wasn’t the third chance I’ve dreamed of. This was sad and pathetic and I just hope I didn’t destroy his life in my own selfishness.

I should have left when he ran after him. I saw the utter panic on his face as I held onto his hand when Jimmie bolted from the kitchen, eyes wide with hurt and surprise. I should have let them be and snuck out into the rain while he told him…whatever he told him. But I didn’t. I was selfish, like I always am, and waited for him to come back like he promised. But I had no right to force him to make that promise!

I’m such a fucking asshole.

And if that prick Johnson doesn’t get over what happened tonight I’ll beat his face in ‘til he does. Even though…if Jimmie does turn him away….

No.

I can’t even think about that, much less wish for it. If I’m the reason Jeff loses him he’ll never forgive me. Hell, he’d probably never even speak to me again. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way he looks at Jimmie--so unlike the way he’s ever looked at me. Jeff’ll hate me if Johnson turns him away. So I guess I just have to hope that stupid idiot is smarter than me and doesn’t let him go. But if he does….

God damn it!

Why can’t I just get over him? Why can’t I just put this all behind me and stop thinking about hot, steamy Indiana hotel rooms, sweat and sex? Sticky bodies still covered in dirt from the track. Crooked smiles and whispered words in the dark. Sparkling blues eyes full of adoration all for me….

“Fuck,” I mutter sharply as I realize I’m not going to be able to push these thoughts away. Not after tonight. Not after finally getting to feel him once again no matter the circumstances. So I close my eyes and let my mind drift back to that night in Indiana when everything finally changed. Over ten years ago when I stalked him relentlessly with knowing eyes and teasing touches. It was 1990, when we both ran the dirt circuits just waiting for the chance to run head to head and finally prove who was better. Back when he was so young and naïve with that sad little mustache trying in vain to look older. Back when the only thing that mattered was trying to break into Indy cars so we could show the world what we could do.

He was in such denial at first, protesting our stolen kisses even as he melted into me. Finally I had had enough. Finally I was tired of pursuing him for so long. I wanted him. I wanted to seduce him once and for all and show him what we could have. So I convinced him we needed to talk and asked him to come to my hotel room after a night of racing. A night that he won. A night that I know neither of us will ever forget.

I bet he never even really knew how much I watched him, careful as I was. I bet he never even knew how much I loved to see him win because I was sure to never let him know. Not really. I only teased him that he didn’t have any competition. But that night everything changed.

God I wish I could go back.

~*~*~*~

I pace the small, dark hotel room again cursing my own nervousness. Why am I so on edge? It not like this hasn’t been building for the past year and a half. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of wanting him and his teasing, timid touches. It’s time to move beyond looks of longing and stolen kisses. It’s time for him to finally give in. So why am I so fucking nervous?

I glance around the dingy room again at my hurried preparations. I’ve already changed the cheap, scratchy hotel sheets leaving them in a heap on the floor and replacing them with smooth blue silk ones I know I couldn’t afford. But I want this to be special, as cheesy as that sounds. I can’t remember ever wanting someone so much and everything has to go right. I curse myself again for being such a fucking pansy and move to check the two bottles of cheap-ass champagne, in the small cooler by the bed, I barely managed to scrape up enough money for. I grin as I hope it’s enough to get him lightheaded enough to finally relax and give into to what I know we both want.

I reach up and flip on the small lamp by the bed and sit down, the faint yellow glow the only light illuminating the room. Pity I couldn’t splurge for candles…but that would be just too fucking much I chide myself. We’re men. Fucking racecar drivers. What do we need with soft candlelight? But still…it would have been nice.

I shake my head and push myself off the bed and start pacing again. Where the hell is he? Surely he isn’t going to bail on me. He promised he’d come by. It’s not like we haven’t hung out before. Maybe he’s worried about the last time…the last time when he almost gave in and we were both a panting sweaty mess from making out like fucking kids.

I feel my body instantly begin to react at the memory of his inexperienced hands running across my chest and sliding down to my waist. I was trembling with desire and want and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I grabbed him, kissing him hard and reaching down to stroke the undeniable evidence of his want for me through his jeans when he pulled back, panic on his face. God damn, why is he so wrapped up I what’s “right” and “wrong.” Doesn’t he feel how right this is? It’s not like he’s that inexperienced. Hell, we all partake of the pit lizards from time to time, that’s no secret.

But he’s never been with another man.

I feel a smile curl my lips as I realize that as far as that’s concerned…his virginity is mine. I can’t help but lick my lips at the thought. I know he’d never even kissed another man. He admitted that to me. And no matter what he might like to say, I know he’s no where near as experienced as I am. Not that I’m a slut or anything, he just hardly ever gets his head out of his racecar to see the world around him.

Honestly, I’ve never known anyone as focused as him and for me that says a lot. He eats, sleeps, and breathes racing even more than I do--something I didn’t think was possible. So why does he think a relationship with another driver is so bad? Does he really think anyone else will ever understand him the way I do? It’s not possible and something I came to realize a long time ago. We are a breed of our own and only another driver will ever understand that. Not that I don’t like the occasional warm, soft body underneath mine, but they don’t understand. They don’t know me.

Not like he does.

So where the fuck is he?

I pop my knuckles as I cross the small space again and try to push back the same nagging fears again. What if I pushed him too far? What if he’s still not ready? What if he found someone else to celebrate with after he left Victory Lane? What if--

I freeze suddenly as I finally hear a soft knock at the door. “Thank God,” I whisper to myself even as I berate myself for being such an idiot. I turn quickly and move to the door, fumbling with the lock and finally pulling the door open.

As the door opens he slowly raises his head to meet my eyes and I see that same shy, sheepish grin I’ve come to adore cross his face. “Hey, Tony,” he says softly and I can only smile as I hear my name on his lips and warmth begins to flood through me at his nearness. Then I see that crooked smirk of his cross his face as he says, “So, you gonna let me in, or what?”

“C’mon, Gordon,” I tell him as I move back pulling the door open wider. “I was beginning to think you blew me off, you little shit. Was about to go out and find my own fun.”

I catch slight hurt in his eyes until they meet mine and he sees my teasing grin. I watch as he visibly relaxes and steps inside grinning at me once again. “Well, you know, when you learn to win a little more often, Stewart, you might find out it takes a little of your time.”

I just laugh at his teasing and watch as he pulls off his hat, tossing it to the small table by the door, and runs his fingers through his hair. He’s trying to be bold and confident. I can see it. But it doesn’t hide the underlying shyness I adore about him. He can pretend to be as bad as he wants. I see straight through him. He’s nothing but a kid.

And he’s all mine.

Suddenly my eyes are drawn to his crooked smile and lips that I know are as soft as the new sheets on the bed. I watch as he nervously wets his lips, tongue darting out to touch them, making them glisten, and I force myself to stifle a moan. Does he even know what he does to me? Finally I can’t hold back from a night full on waiting and wanting and move quickly to him, pushing him backwards to the wall by the door as my hand slides around to the back of his neck and my lips crash to his.

I can tell he’s stunned at first. I’m never usually this aggressive and I feel his hands against my chest for a moment, pressing against me. But then I feel his fingers curl around the soft fabric of my T-shirt as his lips part under mine. I deliberately grind against him as I slip my tongue between his lips to tangle with his. I feel him groan against my mouth as he slowly grows bolder and deepens the kiss, drawing me in further.

That’s it, I think to him as his hips press back against mine and I wonder if all my plans for seduction won’t even be necessary. But then, finally, I feel him pressing against my chest again and the thought runs through my head of just not stopping. I am bigger than him….

No, I think sharply to myself as I pull back suddenly, forcing myself to take a step back. God I can’t believe I was thinking…. I shake my head briefly and look to his face. His cheeks are flushed and he’s panting heavily. His lips are swollen from my kisses and I watch as he licks them nervously again.

“T-Tony, I, I…” he stutters and I immediately move to reassure him.

“Hey, Jeff, take it easy,” I tell him with a grin. I see the doubt in his eyes and I know I’m really going to have to play this right. “C’mon, Gordon, I’as just havin’ some fun. You coming in here all ‘Victory Lane Boy’ and all.” He watches me closely with guarded eyes and I swear he looks like he’s about to bolt. Shit, why did I have to pounce him the instant he walked through the door. “Don’t you wanna celebrate?” I ask him and immediately wonder if I said the wrong thing as his eyes widen slightly. “I even bought some cheap alcohol,” I tease him and then turn away and make my way to the cooler hoping he’ll follow me. Naïve, little, fucking tease!

“Whatcha got?” I hear him ask behind me and I can’t help but grin. We are both underage and alcohol of any type is pretty hard to turn down. Granted it’s not usually too hard to find someone to buy something for you at the track, but still, it’s not like it’s an everyday occurrence.

“Cheap champagne,” I tell him as I pull a bottle from the ice and begin to unscrew it. I watch as he raises an eyebrow as I toss the twist off lid aside and shrug to him. “Hey, I’m broke. Beggars can’t be choosers right?” I tell him with a shrug and watch as he grins at me.

He moves closer to me, picking up the plastic cups I snatched from the track off the floor, and laughs. “As long as it’s not that strawberry crap you got that one time. God, that was awful,” he drawls out and I smack him in the arm with my free hand making sure not to spill the priceless alcohol.

“Shut up, Jeff,” I say with a mock glare. “You’re the one who came up with the bright idea of chugging it to get a better buzz.”

He laughs at my teasing and puts up his hands in mock defense, “Dude, how way I supposed to know that stuff was bottled hangover from hell?”

I can’t help but laugh at him as I snatch the cup from one of his hands and fill it with the bubbly alcohol. I pass it back to him and fill my own before raising my glass to his and saying, “Cheers to another ‘hangover from hell.’” He grins back at me and touches his glass to mine before taking a long drink.

I do the same and cough slightly at the sweet biting taste and glance up as he seems to be mirroring my actions. “Once again, good shit, Smoke,” he says with a grin and jumps back before I can hit him again.

“Hey, you didn’t buy it, did you kid?” I reply and he glares at me a minute before kicking off his shoes and jumping up to sit on the bed. He scoots across the bed and leans against the head board taking another drink of the champagne.

“Please, you’re not even three months older than me. Drop the kid shit, Stewart” he says with a pout and I can’t help but grin. He hates that he looks so young and I love to tease him about it. I sit down on the bed and scoot closer to him, leaning back against the headboard in a similar position to his.

“Awww, poor little baby face,” I say as he turns to shoot daggers at me with his eyes as slowly takes another drink. “The girls just luv it you know,” I mock him and watch as he rolls his eyes. Then I reach up to trace his thin mustache and smother a laugh as I say, “This really isn’t helping, you know.”

“Shut up, Tony,” he snaps as he downs the rest of his cup and tosses it aside. Then he pushes me back against the headboard with one hand and deliberately leans across me to grab the bottle from the cooler. I take that opportunity to slide my hand across his lower back and then grab his ass before he pulls back glaring at me again. He takes a drink directly from the bottle and smirks at me saying, “At least I know how to step next to the razor,” and neither of us can hold back our laughter.

It’s true. He’s always teasing me about my appearance, telling me that sponsors like the “clean cut” look. The thing that he’s never seemed to understand is…I don’t care. Hell, neither one of us have the “preppy” look. Not with my occasional aversion to shaving and his long hair and cheesy mustache. But I’m not a fool. I know where his preaching comes from. His dad. His dad who rides him harder than mine ever did. Honestly, I know that’s why he got here so late. I know his dad probably had him kissing every ass in the vicinity the way he always does. I’m just surprised he hasn’t forced him to cut his long hair…which I secretly hope he never does. I just can’t wait to run my fingers through it….

I force those thoughts--temporarily--from my mind and down the rest of my drink. Then I reach to take the bottle from him, but he pulls it back out of my reach. “Hey,” I tell him and he just motions to the other bottle sitting on ice.

“Get your own,” he says with a smirk and I just roll my eyes. I should have known better than to think he’d share. That’s part of the reason he was downing the strawberry shit I got a month ago. He wanted to get drunk…probably for reasons I don’t even know about. It’s not often he lets loose. I’m just glad he does with me.

“Fiiiiiiiiiine, you damn alcoholic,” I tell him and have to smile as he flips me off and makes himself comfortable against the head board again. I unscrew the other bottle of wine and take a long drink before settling myself beside him again, silently thankful that I didn’t get too much alcohol. This should be just enough to get us both relaxed without being too hammered because I want to remember this! I smile at my thoughts as I feel his arm pressing against mine as he shifts a little closer to me.

Fucking tease.

I slip the bottle between my legs and then let one hand fall casually to his leg and smile even more as he doesn’t even flinch. I watch as he reaches to the table at his side and flips on the small TV at the foot of the bed and immediately starts channel surfing and I know what he’s looking for. After only about a minute he tosses the remote between my knees in disgust and says, “Damn it, no fucking ESPN,” as he takes another drink and I can’t help but grin as he always cusses more when he drinks.

“Jesus, Jeff. It’s not the fuckin’ Hilton,” I say as I smirk at him and have to hold in a laugh as he turns to glare at me again. I swear, I don’t think it’s possible for him to go five minutes without thinking about racing and I know that’s what he was looking for. Not that it would have been on anyway. No, then he would just bitch that we don’t get any coverage at all. God, I love every obsessive little thing about him. Sometimes it’s just like looking into a mirror.

I sip on my champagne again as he finally responds to my remark with a roll of his eyes. “Well, what else are we gonna watch, Tony? Bad B movies?” He throws his head back against the headboard and sighs, “I swear, as much racing as there is there should be a 24 hour channel for it.”

I can’t help but laugh at his familiar ranting. Doesn’t he know that not everyone is obsessed as he is? He doesn’t, I realize for not the first time. He’s always had one and only thing in his head, just like me. He just wants to race and win the rest of the world be damned. That’s why I know we’re perfect for each other. Now if we can just end up on the same damn track one night….

I watch as he finally drains the bottle in his hand and tosses it to the side of the bed before looking at me with a lopsided grin. I smile back at the slightly glazed look in his eyes, but have to sit back in surprise at his words. “You were watching me tonight, weren’t you, Tony?” I’m suddenly at a complete loss for words as I realize that’s not a glazed look in his eyes as I first thought. Instead he’s looking at me with intense blue eyes boring straight into me. “You always like to watch me. Don’t you?”

I’m not that transparent. I’m not, I think as I try to find words to dispute his claim, but I can’t. I know I’ve always been careful, only letting him know I was watching when I wanted him to know. So when did I slip up? But as his unwavering eyes seem to look directly inside me I have to wonder, what if he’s just that observant? I’ve watched him on the track see things so many times that surprised even me. What if he’s the same way with the rest of his life? Surely that isn’t possible.

I try to play it off. Try to pretend I can’t feel him turning me inside-out with his gaze. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeff. Of course I’ve seen you race. Just like you have me,” I say as convincingly as possible.

I see the grin on his face spread as he slowly responds to me. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Smoke,” he says emphasizing my nickname with a seductive drawl. God, does he know what he’s doing to me? “Just like I know you didn’t bring me here tonight to swill cheap champagne and watch crappy movies. Although…it’s much appreciated,” he says with a slow wink and that’s when I know. He is that observant. And he never even let me know. He’s known all along.

He slowly leans closer to me, eyes never leaving mine and slides his hand slowly down the neck of the bottle in my lap, bringing it up then back down, before pulling the almost empty bottle from my lap. His actions have the desired effect, I’m sure, as I feel the semi hard-on I’ve had since he first walked through the door press painfully against the zipper of my jeans. He leans back slowly, bringing the bottle to his lips and circling his tongue around the mouth of it before taking another long drink. That’s when I remember his words and realize he did need a little liquid courage tonight.

I smile to myself at his brash display and can’t help but press him on it. “So,” I tell him with a suggestive grin of my own. “Does that mean you’re through being a fucking tease, Jeff?” I ask as I reach down and slide my hand up his thigh, squeezing it tightly.

I watch the surprise cross his face as he sits up a little straighter and he’s no longer able to hold his penetrating gaze. His eyes flick briefly to look at my hand before meeting mine again and I can read the nervousness he’s tried to hide with his bold words. His tongue darts out and runs across his lips again and it’s all I can do to keep from jumping him again. I just hope he always keeps that one nervous habit.

He swallows slowly and then knocks back the rest of my bottle of wine and turns to slowly set it to the side. Then he finally looks back to me, slowly bringing his eyes up to meet mine and he doesn’t even flinch as he tells me quietly with no trace of his stutter that I can’t help but adore, “That’s why I’m here.”

I moan softly at his words and bite my lip waiting for his next move. But his momentary confidence seems to have faded as he finally continues in a rush, “Tony…. I-I didn’t mean to tease…” and I cut his words of by placing my finger to his lips.

“It’s ok, Jeff,” I tell him softly, leaning over to murmur in his ear. “It just makes tonight even hotter,” I tell him squeezing his thigh again. Then I pull back in order to read his eyes, to be sure it’s not just the alcohol talking because as much as I want to pound him into the mattress beneath us, I won’t force him. I want him screaming my name in pleasure underneath me, not lying there plagued with doubts.

His eyes meet mine again and I see the hesitation, the slight fear in those beautiful blue depths and I start to back off. But then his hand grabs my arm, preventing me from moving away. I watch as that sweet sheepish smile I know so well crosses his face and he drops his eyes for only a moment before meeting mine again. “Be gentle,” he says teasingly. “It’s my first time,” he tells me with a wry grin and I know tonight is the night. Tonight I get a piece of him forever.

“Jeff,” I murmur softly as I feel his hand slowly move up my arm, cautiously sliding across my shoulder to the back of my neck, the same way I’ve pulled him to me so many times before. I feel the pull as he tugs me forward, bringing my lips to him, and he trembles as I sweep my tongue across his lips.

“Yes, Tony,” he whispers against my lips as I deepen the kiss, pulling him full into my arms. This time he doesn’t even resist, just melts into my embrace as I run my hands over his back and under his shirt. I feel him gasp at the sudden contact of skin against skin and he trembles again. I swear, I never knew he’d be this responsive to my touch. The realization turns me on even more than I thought possible and I pull him down the bed with me, laying him backwards as I push down the cheap comforter to reveal the smooth, silken sheets.

He’s still slightly propped up against the headboard as I break the kiss and trail my lips down his neck, sucking lightly at his pulse point and I hear him moan again. I smile as I slide my hands down his body, across his bare stomach, and finally stroke him through his jeans with one hand.

“Oh, God. Tony,” he cries in a breathless, shaky voice and I have to look up at him. He’s biting his lip and a frown mars his face as he breaths heavily. Surely he’s not that sensitive? I press the palm of my hand against the rock hard bulge in his jeans and watch as he gasps again and grips the sheets, twisting them with both hands.

Shit. I never knew he was his wild. It’s a wonder he’s not the world’s biggest garage slut, I think with a smile as I know that right now he’s all mine. That’s when I realize I’m going to have to modify my original plan of “get inside him as fast as possible” as he wouldn’t even last a second if his panting is any indication. I grin as I realize tonight is going to be even more fun than I imagined.

I slowly pull my hand away from him and smile again as I hear him grunt in frustration. God, I can’t believe how hot he is. I quickly unfasten his jeans, unzip them and gasp myself as I see him completely revealed to me. Who would have thought Jeff would forego underwear? I smile as it makes things even easier and lean over taking his long, hard length completely down my throat.

“Oh God. Oh God,” he cries out as his eyes pop open to look down and meet my watchful gaze. He was right, after all. I do love to watch him. His eyes have become impossibly blue, I realize, as I slowly suck him, reaching up to touch him with a free hand. His entire body is shuddering beneath me as I run my tongue up his hard, velvet flesh and, before I know it, he’s shaking even more violently as he closes his eyes and screams words that don’t even make sense.

I run my tongue over him again, causing him to shudder even more, and then crawl up his body until I’m looking down at him, hands on either side of his head. “Tony,” he says in a harsh whisper as he finally opens his eyes to meet mine and I can’t help but grin at the look of wonder on his face.

“We’re just getting started, Jeffy,” I tell him in a low seductive voice as I lean over to claim his lips again and he moans at the contact. I deepen the kiss instantly and moan into his mouth as I feel his hands slip under my shirt, pushing it up as he lightly scratches at my chest. I push his legs apart as I slip between them and grind my hips lightly to his and I can feel him responding to me already. God, he’s insatiable.

His hands finally start to get more insistent, tugging at my shirt and I break the kiss letting him pull my shirt over my head. “Tony,” he says in a ragged voice and I want him more than I thought possible. I look down at him and reach for his shirt, tearing it over his head and revealing the hard expanse of his chest that I can’t help but attack with my lips as he scoots down resting his head on one of the pillows. “Tony, please…” he breaths in my ear and I feel myself shiver. He does want me. And I’m not going to make him wait much longer.

I pull back from him again and slide down the bed, dragging his jeans down his legs and tossing them on the floor. Then I slip off the foot of the bed and finish undressing myself as his eyes never leave my body. I feel myself growing even harder at his gaze and I rake my own eyes over his body. I watch as a slow smile crosses his face, instead of the insecurity I expect, and give him a slightly curious look. His smile just grows as he finally meets my eyes and says, “I like to be watched.”

“Oh, fuck,” I say as I lean over to the bag at my feet and retrieve everything I’ll need to make this good for him. Then I crawl back onto the bed and smile as he reaches for me again. I press my hungry lips to his as I lay on my side next to him and run my hand down his chest. I feel him trembling again as he moans against my mouth and I pull my hand back to coat it in cool, slippery lube. Then I move my hand to his parted legs and slowly run one finger down his hardening length, down, further down, until I’m pressing lightly at his still virgin entrance.

“Unnnngh, Tony…I…”

“Shhhh, Jeff,” I tell him softly as I look up to meet his wide blue eyes. “I won’t hurt you,” I tell him softly and can’t help but add, “unless you ask me too.”

“Shit,” he cries out at my words and throws his head back as I slowly press the tip of my finger past his tight opening. “Oh, God. Yes, Tony,” he mumbles almost incoherently and I take my time easing my finger inside. Then I begin to slowly pump him and watch as he trembles from the probing touch alone. “Please…please more…” he cries and I can’t deny him.

I slowly work in another finger, pumping him steadily as I try to hold back my own raging lust. I want this to be perf--

“Tony, please. I need you,” he screams and I look up to see him staring down at me with pleading eyes.

And that’s all it takes.

He wants me.

I pull my fingers quickly from him and turn him over as I reach for the lube again. Then I run my slick hand over my straining erection and have to gasp at the sudden contact. God, I don’t even know how long I’m going to last. I watch him move to his knees and I slide to the end of the bed, pulling him with me. “Tony, I need…” he says as he buries his face in the pillow beneath him and I know it’s time.

I move to my feet and slide my hands up his legs to hips as I finally position myself at his tight entrance. Then I slowly push forward, thrusting, sliding, until finally I’m fully inside him. “God, Jeff,” I gasp as I hear him moan my name beneath me and I bite my lip fighting for control as now I’m the one shaking uncontrollably. I try desperately to slow my ragged breathing as I pull back and thrust into him slowly once more and it’s almost more than I can take. He’s just so fucking perfect.

I pull back again, but this time I have to gasp as he uses his arms for leverage and pushes hard back against me, meeting my thrusts. It’s almost too much and I quickly build my pace, thrusting faster, wanting to savor every single second.

“More, Tony. Harder…please,” he cries out taking me by surprise and I can’t hold back anymore. I close my eyes as I grip his hips and pound into him with no mercy even as he gasps in surprise and begs for more. I’m so close I barely have time to reach around him to take him in my slick hand, which is all it takes for him to come screaming my name again. The sound of his voice fills my ears as lights seem to explode behind my closed eye and I’m shaking as my entire body erupts in a haze of sheer ecstasy.

~*~*~*~

“Jeff.”

His name slips from my lips as I moan and I finally open my eyes to see the dark, low ceiling of my coach, and I remember where I am.

Alone.

Not in Indiana. Not with him screaming my name and all but calling me God. No, I’m here alone. In my coach. With his scent still all around me.

I sigh as I wipe my sticky hand on the sheets beside me and lean over the side of the bed for a dirty shirt on the floor. Sometimes I guess it’s a good thing I’m a pig, I think, as I wipe the evidence of my latest fantasy from my stomach and toss the filthy fabric aside.

Why did I ever let him go?

I’ve asked myself that so many times and as always, all I can come up with is that I’m a complete idiot. He never would have left me. Not after that night. No, for probably the first time in his life there was something else besides racing that mattered to him.

Me.

And I threw it all away. Ok, so I didn’t mean to. I didn’t really know what would happen. Honestly, if anything, I just underestimated him. But how could I know that he could really drive anything with wheels?

I shake my head as I remember the night he finally came to me in another hotel room after another race. It had become a complete routine with us. He would follow me anywhere, and the way he looked at me…. I swear it was like I was his God. He worshiped me with his eyes, no matter where we were. And I loved it. I fucking reveled in it.

That’s why when he came to me and told me that he’d tried driving a stock car and liked it, that he wanted to try running in the Busch series, I didn’t care. I remember telling him he was crazy. We were open wheel drivers. Had he lost his mind wanting to try a huge stock car? That wasn’t going to get us to the Indy 500!

But he just looked down and muttered that Indy didn’t want him. That his name wasn’t Mears or Andretti and that NASCAR was willing to give him a chance.

I told him he was being stupid. I told him it was pointless. But even after that, I saw in his eyes what he wanted. He wanted me to say it was ok. He wanted me to come with him. I swear, I should have done both. But instead I just shrugged it off and told him to go ahead and play on the concrete with the no-driving rednecks. And at the time, I don’t even think I caught the hurt look in his eyes when I told him it wasn’t for me, that I was going for the Indy 500 or nothing.

So he went.

Honestly we tried to stay in touch at first. But it was so much harder when he would be so far away. And I resented him for it. I resented that he was letting his new, stupid hobby take him away from me and I took it out on him even when we did get to be together. And then came the day Hendrick called and took him away for good.

I still didn’t think much of his stock cars as I was continuing to work on my “Triple Crown” in USAC, biding my time until a Champ Car ride opened up. I still believed that’s where I…no, we needed to be. Honestly I still thought he’d come running back to open wheel cars after his first season in Cup was all but a disaster. And I was cruel to him, I know that now. I never supported him once he left and I have no doubt that’s why he finally turned to her.

That fucking bitch.

I wouldn’t even speak to him after he told me they were engaged. I just turned away and completely distanced myself from everything about him. Once again I let my pride get in the way and cut off everything between us because I still believe he’d come running back to me. I still thought he’d fail.

God, I’m such an idiot.

It was right at the end of his first season in Cup that he tried to talk to me once more, tried to convince me to give stock cars a chance…and I know he wasn’t only taking racing. Had I come with him then, I doubt he would have married her. But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t admit he was right and I let him go. I can’t help but wonder where I would be now if I had only listened to him.

So we went our own ways. Doing our own things, and I grew to hate NASCAR and everything about it…mainly for taking him away from me. So instead, I threw myself completely into USAC winning the Silver Crown, Sprint, and Midget championships all in one year. And I should have been proud. It was what I was working so hard for. But it was also the same year he won his first Winston Cup. And I was beyond jealous.

Surprisingly, I actually got a message from him, congratulating me on my wins, and ass that I am I never even replied. I never even told him how proud I was of him or that, even though I’d never admit it to anyone, I watched every single race of his I could. I still followed him. I still loved to watch him…even from afar. I just couldn’t let him know.

Then I finally got my break and joined the IRL, and I should’ve been happy. It was all I ever wanted--to run in the Indy 500! But for some reason, even as excited as I was, it felt empty, and I didn’t know why. But I do now. I know it never completely felt “right” because he was supposed to be there with me. But instead he was winning at the Brickyard in his bright-ass stock car and part of me hated him for that. Part of me still does. Especially since he’s won there four fucking times.

I sigh and roll over on my side, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to me. Then I whimper as I can smell the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the soft silk. I breathe in the intoxicating fragrance deeply and once again curse my own stupidity. He never should have even spoken to me after all that I did to him, the way I treated him. Or maybe he should have mocked me when I finally joined him in stock cars. But he didn’t do either. Instead the “Champion” actually tried to help me. Why the hell did I have to let my pride get in the way again?

It was after my first Cup race in Martinsville. I was pissed finishing 20th after starting on the pole and he found me in my coach. Honestly I couldn’t even believe he still cared and I didn’t even know what to say to him. Especially since I could tell he was so miserable. I could tell the minute I was around him again. He wasn’t happy. He was a three time champion and should have been walking on air. But he wasn’t. And I knew why.

It was her.

I swear she seemed to suck the life right out of him. It was like he wasn’t even the same person. I mean, I’d watched him from afar. I’d seen the “media face” he’d put on and it wasn’t him. I didn’t even know that Jeff. That wasn’t the same person I’d spent so much time with…so many nights with. From what I could gather around the garage he never went out, never had fun, never even socialized with anyone else. What the hell happened to him? How could he change so much?

I wanted to help. I wanted to talk to him, but I had no idea how to approach him after all that time. But then there he was, standing at my door, wanting to see if I was ok.

~*~*~*~

“Hey, Tony,” he says softly and I swear he barely even meets my eyes, something he’s never done before. Even when he was young and naïve he still exuded confidence. Who is this shell of a person standing in front of me. “You mind if I come in?”

I stand there for a moment, still in shock at being so close to him again and being flooded by so many memories of other times he’d come to my door. I watch as he seems to actually fidget before me and looks down saying, “Sorry, maybe this was a--”

“No,” I say sharply as I can tell he’s about to leave. “I mean, it’s ok, Jeff. Please come in,” I tell him in a rush and I hope my desperation isn’t too obvious. He looks up suddenly, nods slowly, and steps up into my coach. I can do nothing but watch in silence as he passes closely by me, eyes toward the ground and finally turns around obviously not sure what to do now.

I shake myself out of my stunned stupor and finally manage to say, “Go ahead and sit down, if you want,” and motion to the couch. He nods to me again and finally takes a seat where I was sitting only moments ago. I force myself to take a deep breath and then move to sit next to him, leaving plenty of space between us. What the hell is he doing here again?

I watch as he folds his hands in his lap and looks down at them. Then he slowly runs his tongue across his lips in the same nervous gesture I’ve never been able to erase from my memory and I swear I feel the same twinges of desire I always felt when he did that. God, what is he trying to do to me?

“Tony, I-I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he says finally looking up to meet my eyes. “I didn’t get a chance to-to congratulate you on your first pole.”

I look at him in surprise because I know that’s not why he’s here, but I’m willing to play along because I’ll be damned if I actually know why he is here. “Thanks, Jeff,” I tell him and can’t stop myself from adding flippantly, “It’s not three championships, but hey.” I shrug my shoulders at the comment and immediately regret it as I see--hurt?--flash briefly in his eyes. “Jeff, I didn’t….”

“It’s ok, Tony,” he says softly. Then he sighs and looks up to me again. “I didn’t know how to do this either.”

I stare into his dark blue eyes that seem so much sadder than I remember and ask him, “Do what, exactly, Jeff? Why are you here?”

I watch as he suddenly pushes himself off the couch and I’m afraid I’ve run him off again. I start to say something when I realize he’s not leaving, just pacing the floor--something I’ve never seen him do before. When did he pick up this habit, I wonder? I look up as I see him running his fingers through his hair and then stop and turn to look at me again.

“Tony, I just…. I don’t know. Maybe I should--maybe I should just go,” he says and starts to head for the door.

I stand immediately and call out to him, stopping him right at the door, “Jeff, wait.” He turns to look at me and I again see the deep sadness in his eyes. If anything he just looks tired. I shouldn’t press him. I shouldn’t butt into his personal life when I let him go and turned my back on him so long ago. But I’ve never been one to do what I should.

“What are you doing?” I ask him bluntly.

He creases his brow in confusion, another look I’m not completely familiar with and gives me a hard look. “What are you talking about? I told you I just came here to--”

“Not here. Not now,” I say cutting him off as I take one step closer to him. We’re still about eight feet apart, and awkwardness doesn’t even begin to describe the situation, but I’m not backing down. I just can’t. “What are you doing with your life?”

His look of confusion changes to one of surprise as he seems to be at a complete loss for words. I swear, it’s almost like he isn’t even the same person. Jeff was never so…I don’t even know how to describe it. I shake my head at his lack of response and take another step closer. “What has that bitch done to you, Jeff?”

I watch as his eyes narrow at me and he clenches his jaw. He turns to face me fully, balling his fists at his sides, and I can’t ever remember seeing him get this enraged so fast. “My personal life is none of your business, Stewart. It hasn’t been in a long time,” he growls at me and it’s all I can do to keep from backing away. But he’s the one who came here, to my coach and I want to know why.

I take another step forward, closing the distance between us, almost getting in his face. “You’re the one who came here, Jeff,” I accuse him. “You’re the one who walked in here to congratulate me…and I know it was more than that.”

“Shut up, Tony,” he says still unable to meet my eyes and I can’t help but push.

“You think it’s all my fault? You left me, Jeff, not the other way around,” I snap and I know I’m being an asshole. I know I pushed him away. But how can he come in here and then try to shut me out? I won’t let him.

Suddenly all the time we’ve been apart hits me at once and I can’t help the anger I feel. He was never there…granted neither was I, but still. He should have cared. He shouldn’t have let himself become…this. He should have fucking called me. God damn him. He’s finally looking at me, glaring at me and I can’t even stop the words. “I almost fucking died, Jeff. In ‘96 I almost fucking died and--”

“I know you son of a bitch I was there!” he shouts at me and pushes me back a step. I look at him in total surprise as he stares me down with blazing blue eyes. “I was fucking there. I saw you in the hospital even though everyone tried to keep me from you.” I watch as he looks down shaking his head and I just can’t believe it. He was there. Why didn’t I ever know?

“Why didn’t you stay?” I tell him softly, all of my anger draining from me at his admission.

“You’d barely spoken to me in five years, Tony. What was I supposed to do, go in and hold your hand?” He looks away again and I don’t know what to say. I never even knew. “I called you. You never returned my calls,” he says softly and bites his lip. Then he looks up to me with blue eyes full of pain and says, “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“God, Jeff,” I tell him and move towards him not even caring if he tries to push me away. I pull him into my arms and he only resists for a second before he throws his arms around me. He rests his head against my shoulder and I feel him sigh against me. Why in God’s name did I ever push him away?

“It’s ok, Jeff,” I tell him softly as he pulls me tighter. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this broken. I never should have stayed away from him so long. “I wouldn’t have turned you away.”

He pulls back at those words, looking to meet my eyes, and finally replies, “Yeah, you would.”

I drop my head at his words because he’s probably right. I’d probably have let my pride get in the way…just like I always do. “I wouldn’t have meant it,” I tell him in a bare whisper and he slowly nods at my words.

“I know. I should have known,” he replies and pulls me close again. “I’ve missed you, Smoke,” he whispers against my neck and all I can do is pull him closer. Why am I such a fool?

We stand there for awhile, time not even being an issue as we cling to each other. Then finally I pull back and reach down, taking his hand and pulling him back to the couch. He looks down to his hands, refusing to meet my eyes and I put my hand on his knee to get his attention. He slowly looks up to me again and I still can’t get over this broken version of him and I have to ask again, “What happened to you, Jeff?”

He bites his lip and shakes his head and for a moment I don’t think he’s going to respond. But then he takes a deep breath and looks up to me again and says, “I don’t know,” with a shaky voice. “I just got lost somewhere along the way.”

I squeeze his knee as comfortingly as I can and watch as he sighs again. “I’m here now, Jeff,” I tell him softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You just don’t know,” he tells me looking down at his hands again. “I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to, being what I was supposed to be, and the racing…it’s been great,” he pauses as he looks back up to meet my eyes. “But I don’t know who I am anymore.” He chews his lip and I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying something I know wouldn’t be right. Instead I try to stay silent and let him continue.

“She wasn’t always so bad,” he says as he look off to the side. But then he turns back to me with a small miserable grin and says, “Ok, maybe she was, but…I didn’t know what else to do.” His grin fades and I see him look at me in all seriousness as he continues, “I still don’t.”

I pull him closer and he doesn’t even protest. He just falls into my arm and I hold him, running my hand over his back. I want to say something. I really do. But I know whatever I say will probably be the wrong thing so I stay silent and try to comfort him as much as I can with my touch.

~*~*~*~

Nothing much more happened that afternoon. I just comforted him the best I could and let him know I was there for him. But it wasn’t long before we ended up picking up where we left off, we just had to be more secretive than ever. He was hurting and somewhere along the way of winning three championships and becoming NASCAR’s premier pretty boy he’d lost himself completely.

I snuggle my face against the soft pillow again and pull it even tighter. I breathe deeply and let the memories of my rookie year flood my mind. The way we were there for each other again and how he finally seemed to remember how to be himself. That’s when the problems started.

I expected him to be the same kid I knew almost ten years before. I wanted him to look at me with the same worshipful blue eyes I remembered. But once he got himself back together I realized he wasn’t the same at all. He was a strong and confident champion, and I wasn’t even close. Oh sure I beat him in points that year and took Rookie of the Year honors, but he still whipped me with seven wins and seven poles. Not to mention he all but owned the series alongside Earnhardt. No matter what I did it was always compared to Gordon. “He’ll never be as good as Gordon” they’d say…and I couldn’t take it.

So I did what I always do.

I took it out on him.

I roll over onto my back again, still hugging the pillow to my chest, as I remember what happened next. I couldn’t stand him being better than me. I couldn’t stand his confident air, especially after he finally decided he was going to get out of his joke of a marriage. Once he got it all back together and even started talking about starting his own Cup team with Hendrick I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t handle him not…well I couldn’t handle him not “worshiping” me.

I wanted to be the center of his world again…and I wasn’t. So I picked fights with him. I berated him for blowing me off, even though I know he tried to be with me as much as possible. I gave him hell all the time until I finally just told him it was over.

God damn it, what was I thinking?

I let my stupid, fucking pride get in the way of the best thing I’ve ever had for no fucking reason. I mean, I even fought with him on the track, took it all out into the open, not that he was playing nice either. Finally we got to race side by side and I couldn’t stand for him to win. I couldn’t even stand for him to be close to me…so I slammed him into the fence at Watkins Glen.

Yeah, 2000 is a year I’d really like to forget for many reasons. I just wish it had stopped there. But we just couldn’t seem to keep from getting in each other’s way, and I know that’s what pushed me so far over the edge. Well, that and beginning to think I’d never get a championship. Him beating me out of it the next year really didn’t help much either. But after the off season, I really tired to put it all behind me. I was being an immature idiot and it was time to get over it. It was time to let him know I was wrong.

I just wish I hadn’t been too late.

I knew it the instant I got to Daytona and he walked in with his new little toy in tow. I almost lost it right there, and it wasn’t because I could tell he was with someone else. That I could have lived with. It was all how he looked at him. Not with worshipful eyes, not as someone he needed to lean on, not anyway he had ever looked at me before. He looked at him like he loved him.

And it made me sick.

This new, stupid prick had everything I always wanted and I couldn’t even hate him for it because I knew I’d had my chances…and I threw them all away. And if I wasn’t completely sure before now, it was made perfectly clear to me tonight.

He doesn’t love me.

Maybe he never even did. Oh, I know he cares. That’s why he let me stay. Why he followed me here. But he wasn’t really here. He was somewhere else, waiting to get away from me. God, why did I push him tonight? Why didn’t I see what he was doing when he got so aggressive demanding the bedroom? He’s never been that way with me. Why didn’t I see it for what it was?

I know why. I wanted him so much I didn’t care. I didn’t care that he didn’t even touch me as he tried to suck me off. I didn’t even care that he barely did more than lay there as I pounded into him. All I cared about was for the moment he was mine again and we were back in Indiana….

But we weren’t.

When did I become such a fucking monster? I could tell the moment he took me in his arms and comforted me that nothing was the same. He didn’t want to be here. And by forcing him to be I may have destroyed his life. I may have destroyed whatever it is that he does have with Jimmie, and I’m certain he’d never forgive me for it.

I finally roll over on my stomach, still crushing “his” pillow to me and try desperately to shut off my mind and get some sleep as I see the sun beginning to rise. If I have to I’ll make things right I tell myself. I’ll talk to Jimmie myself and try to make him understand. Or I’ll beat the shit out of him if he even thinks about hurting him…like I did.

I sigh once again as exhaustion finally begins to over take me and I close my eyes trying to give over to it. My life is a complete piece of shit. That’s nothing new. I just wish I hadn’t fucked up his…again. I just wish I could have one more chance to make things right. I just hope he speaks to me again. And Jimmie better make sure and take care of him because if he doesn’t….

I’ll never need another chance again.

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 Jeff & Jimmie's POVs call Aftermath. 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