Restless Heat

Home : Stories by Catw00man/Stories by Zippit : MBN Universe : Restless Heat

Summary: It’s more than just video games keeping him up at night.

AUTHOR: Zippit
EMAIL: mbn@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
SERIES/SETTING: MBN Universe
CHARACTERS: Dale Earnhardt Jr/Martin Truex Jr, Dale Earnhardt Jr/Kevin Harvick, Dale Jr POV
COMPLETED: August 24, 2009
WORDS: 2,976
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize anyone in this piece, I am in no way affiliated with or know them personally. I am neither making a profit nor plan to do so. This is nothing more than an exercise in fiction. This is a result of an overactive imagination and I claim no truth to these words.
BETA: Thanks to Catw00man for the beta. All other errors are mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: These boys are near and dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy learning about them as much as I did. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dirty Mo’ Acres – Mooresville, North Carolina – October 6th, 2005

Tangled sheets wrapped around my legs, too much warmth on my skin, and I wake panting in the dark.  It’s early. It has to be.  Run a hand down my damp face and glance at the clock. Shit, yeah, it’s six in the morning. Too damn early to be up for no good reason.

Sit up and drag my hand through my hair, shaking my head to clear it. It’s a dream I shouldn’t be having. One coated in lust and desire. It never starts the same but there’s only one way for it to end, my body on fire, so close to the edge, as pleasure screams through me. One more moment would have me coming but instead I’m jerked awake. Dreams shouldn’t have such an effect on me. I’m not in this just for the sex. I’m not. The proof’s lying right next to me.

Climb out of bed and pad to the adjoining bathroom. I need to cool off. Squint at the harsh glare as I flip on the bathroom lights and glance at the clawfoot tub. No, that’s not what I need. I want the pounding feel of a shower against my skin because it’ll be like the pounding…shit, I can’t go there. But why not? It’s only me here.  Only me and my haunting dreams….

Turn the shower on and listen to the spray pattering on the tile. I hope it doesn’t wake Martin. God knows he’s been up as late as I have the past few nights playing video games. It’s been good to just hang out with him, away from all the shit we have to do at the track but…there’s something missing. Something I don’t want to think about. Strip off the T-shirt clinging to my skin and toss it in the hamper. Follow it with my boxers, and reach a hand down to wrap around myself. Fuck, I shouldn’t be this hard, this wanting. Bite my lip to stifle a groan. I don’t need it like that. I really don’t.

Step into the shower and the fierce spray against my skin shatters any control I thought I had. Stagger to the side and whimper, pressing a hand against the cool tile. It feels like I’m going to combust. Tilt my head back as I move completely under the spray and moan low. It feels too fucking good. Blowjobs—handjobs when it really comes down to it—don’t make for anything more than a weak release. It’s why I don’t usually go for people like Martin. I know what I like and I expect to get what I want…but what if I had a chance at something more?

Push Martin from my thoughts and I should feel guilty it’s as easy as it is. He doesn’t deserve this treatment from me and I don’t want to pressure him. But, damnit, these dreams of a certain “fallen angel” give me everything I’ve been missing. Wince at the slight pinch when the spray splashes against my cock and it only serves to emphasize the need burning within me. Reach for the soap and sigh as I wrap my hand around myself again. Slow, easy strokes, and I’ve done this too many times this week. Hell, I’ve done this too many times during the past few months to get any real pleasure from it. No, I need to stop thinking and dive back into those dreams that’ve driven me awake every night for the past week.

Sometimes they start with his mouth wrapped around my cock, his hand creeping dangerously close to my ass, and it’s too much, too soon. I don’t want it to end. Somehow we’re in the middle of the garage, oblivious to everyone. I just know he’d do it if given the chance. He’d put me on display, show them all that he’s finally gotten what he wanted. But he never lets me come. It’s all just a prelude to the showcase that’s been different every night.

The first night after he had his taste of me I was splayed out on the hood of his car. Close my eyes as I remember how his firesuit was down around his feet, mine nowhere in sight, and then I didn’t care because he was inside me, all around me, everywhere.  Tighten my hand around my cock as I slip further into the fantasy, letting it wash over me as if it’s all real….

Scream because I’ve never been the silent type and my voice echoes in the garage as I buck up against him. Claw at his shoulders and drag him down for more, harder, anything. He needs to move and he doesn’t disappoint. The sheet metal bends under us like my body bends for his and I don’t care who hears, his crew chief, mine, the media. Nothing matters except for the sweet fucking burn as he fucks me inside out. Hard, pounding, bruising and I clutch at him with my legs and arms. So close, so very close and his nails aren’t gentle as they rake over me.

But it’s not real. It never was and I remember waking up with a cry that hopefully wasn’t his name on my lips. An hour in the shower did nothing to satisfy the throb within. It only took care of the outside symptoms and the next night he was back in all his glory. Lean against the cool tile but that’s not enough to calm the desire. No, I need the fantasy. There’s no garage this time. No one but us and the soft sheets of my bed against me while he murmurs in my ear, teasing me with everything on that film reel in his head. Lick my lips and shift against the cool tile to try and ease the heat. Groan low as I tighten my hand around my cock, heat coursing through me as I get lost again, wanting it all to be real.

Lips trail down my spine mixed with nips and not so gentle bites.  I’m not patient, not now.  I can’t be when I’m already squirming beneath him. My hands curl into the sheets as I arch back into his touch. Demand, cajole, promise him anything as long as he’ll get on with it. He greets me with a laugh and I give him a cry in return. His sweet fucking tongue has no qualms in burrowing inside me, driving me mindless in so many forbidden ways, but with him there is no taboo. His fingers trace the curve of my ass before they bare me further to him, and I don’t fucking care. At this point, I’m ready to fuck the damn mattress. He’s reading my mind as he hauls me to my hands and knees, and tells me he won’t let this go to waste like that. No way. He guides my hands to the headboard with his silky voice against my ear.

You’re my bitch tonight. I’m no one’s bitch. Oh but you are. That’s the last words either of us say before he forces my body open for his and there’s nothing more I could want. Howl in pleasure, my hands tight on the headboard, as he fucks me completely. Ride him with fucking joy because, oh yeah, I want this. He fucks me through the bed and then some and I’m still begging for more…just like I was when I finally woke with sticky sheets and an insistent throb between my legs.

Last night was my turn. No way was I gonna let him have all the fucking fun and my dreams willingly obliged. We were away from everyone this time, just us, against the media center. His firesuit at his feet again but this time he wasn’t looming over me. Oh no, this time I was balls deep inside his ass, making him scream for me with every thrust. Every squeeze of his body around me, every moment was pure perfection. Tight, tight heat and it was still just as savage, still as wild, and reckless as it’s been every time. I wanted to fuck him through the wall and I nearly did. I was so close to coming yet again when too much heat dragged me awake…like right now.

Warm water cascades over me, as I jerk my hand over my cock torn between wanting to imagine him fucking me or me fucking him. Finally lose myself to the image of him fucking me over the hood of his car and I should feel guiltier than I do. I just can’t seem to care. Not when I’m turned on beyond belief and needing a damn release. Everything fades away again and I hear the creak of the sheet metal, the slap of our bodies and it doesn’t take long for me to find release with the imagined feel of him deep inside. Shudder through the echoes of pleasure and take a few moments to compose myself before I shut off the water, climb out, and get dressed in sweats and a T-shirt.

I could go back to bed but now I’m wide awake. Step out of the bathroom and the sight of Martin sprawled across the bed has me making my way downstairs. Stop outside my computer room to contemplate an hour or two of SIM racing but pass. Breakfast sounds more appealing. Walk down the hall into the kitchen and look to the fridge. There’s really not much in there. Bud, pudding pops, and some ribs. None of it’s what I want. Open a cupboard and snag a cereal box. Better than nothing. There’s probably not a single thing in this house I want to eat right now. Take my bowl to the living room and sprawl out on the couch. There anything good on ESPN this early? Guess I’ll be finding out.

It’s mainly football commentary and I zone out to the highlights for a while until Martin stumbles in towards the last 15 minutes of the show. He doesn’t really say anything, just sleepwalks to the couch and passes out. Why is he even up if he’s gonna go back to sleep? Toss my bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink once the hour’s up then return to stare at the TV a while longer. Turn my head to look at Martin when I feel him looking at me. “You finally up again?”

“Yeah.” He keeps looking at me and I don’t know what he’s thinking. It’s too early to be reading his mind.

“You were up early. Could’ve just stayed upstairs to sleep.”

A shrug is all I get this time. Okay then. He woke up on the wrong side of the couch today. I know neither of us are morning people but this is a little odd even for him. Turn my attention back to the TV but still feel his eyes on me. I shouldn’t be getting the silent treatment from my own friends. Grit my teeth and after a few more minutes say, “Out with it, Martin.”

“I heard you this morning.”

“Look, I’m sorry I woke you up. Wasn’t exactly a time I wanted to be up either. You could still go back upstairs and sleep.” I’m still getting that look from him and I don’t get why. It shouldn’t be such an issue. So what if I’ve been having dreams that are a bit too damn involving. It’s not like I meant to wake him. Watch him sit back against the couch and look at me.

“Wasn’t just this morning, Junior. I’ve heard you the past couple nights.”

He can’t. No fucking way. He’s a deeper sleeper than I am on most nights. “I’m sorry. Don’t know what the hell’s been going on. It’s probably just a passing thing. After we get to the track, do some racing, I’ll get over it.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know what name you were calling out. I watched you writhe under the sheets like a damn bitch in heat.”

“When the fuck did you become such a light sleeper? They’re just dreams, Martin. It don’t mean shit. I’m with you.” Glare at him because what right does he have to treat me like I’m fucking cheating? I’m not doing anything wrong!

He pushes off the couch with a growl and glares at me. “And obviously I’m not enough if you’re dreaming about fucking Harvick!”

He’s not pulling that on me. No way. Surge to my feet and say, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Like you haven’t been in a relationship before and looked but never touched!”

“It’s Harvick, damnit!”

“He’s just a friend. Am I not supposed to have friends now? You get along damn fine with the DMP. What’ve you got against Harvick?”

“They aren’t friends that want to fuck your brains out. None of the DMP want to make you scream.” The glare he shoots me from murky green eyes is, well…more emotion than I’ve ever seen from him about us. He’s jealous of Kev, but I really don’t get why. It’s not like shit’s happened between us.

“It’s harmless flirting, Martin. Nothing more. You’re seeing shit where there isn’t any.”

“Right.  I see the way he looks at you. The way you respond back. It’s all in my head, huh? What? Tired of not having a slut to sleep around with? If so, then Harvick seems right up your alley.” He jabs a finger at me like it’s my fault, like I have something to do with the way Kevin acts. I have no fucking control over him! I just go along with it ‘cause it’s fun to trade barbs.

“What the FUCK is your problem? You’re just jealous of him ‘cause he knows what he wants and doesn’t hesitate in going after it.”

That sets him off and he takes a step toward me. “And what he wants includes you, Junior! How do I know you’re not gonna end up sleeping with him?”

“I’m not! I haven’t given into him all the time we’ve known each other and I’m not gonna start now. Not when I’m with you.”

“You’re fucking dreaming about him!”

“It doesn’t mean anything!  You’re the one in my house, in my bed.” Point upstairs at the room that’s exclusively his for as long as he wants it. It’s supposed to be my guest bedroom but it’s been turned into Martin’s when he’s not spending the night in mine. “You’re the one I want. How hard is that to get? You have any idea how much of an exception you are for me, Martin?”

“What if I don’t want to be an exception? What if I just want to race and not deal with all this extra shit?!”

“So we’re shit now? You went into this thing as willingly as I did, Truex. Don’t you fucking put the blame on me! You had just as much opportunity to say no back then as you fucking do now. You want to walk away. Go the fuck ahead. We don’t have to do this.”

“I want this as much as you do, Junior! I’m not Harvick though! I can’t compete with him.” Arms thrown wide as if he’s torn between being fed up and saying “bring it on.”

“You’re not fucking competing!” I say right in his face. Fist a hand in his shirt and shake him.

He wrenches free as he spits out. “Yes, we are! Back at the bar, don’t you remember? You took his side over mine!”

We’re back to the damn bar? What the hell? I fucking blew him afterwards! What the fuck! Why can’t he be this damn passionate about us? Why does it take shit about Harvick to rile him up? I can see it in his eyes. He’s fucking angry and so am I. “I just wanted to have some damn fun and you know you can’t hold--”

“You know I fucking can! You just liked making that bet ‘cause it made me look the fool.” He’s right up in my face and goddamnit, how’d we get to this?

Shove him back a little and growl, “I just wanted to have some damn fun.”

“At my expense. I don’t get it, I don’t. Everyone in the garage thinks he’s an annoying asshole. Everyone but you. I really don’t fucking get it.” He drags a hand through his hair and turns away to take a breath before facing me again.

“It’s really nothing. I don’t even know him that well. He just…amuses me.” Shrug my shoulders because Martin is right. No one else in the garage sees it like I do.

“I know.”

“I’m with you, Martin. No one else.” Reach out to squeeze his shoulder and give him a small smile. I do want this to work and I hope he can see it in my face. I want him. Not anyone else.
 
“I know, Junior. I do. I guess I just woke up grumpy.”

“We good now?”

He takes a minute before he says, “Yeah, we are. You owe me though.”

Arch an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What do I owe you exactly?”

“Anything I want.”

“Fuck you, Truex.” Grin at him and I’m glad that’s over with. The dreams just need to go away and I’m set. I don’t need him having more grumpy mornings. We have enough of that to deal with at the track. “Go get dressed, lazy ass, then we can get started on your every demand.”

That wins a grin from him. “You have no idea what you’re in for. I hope you ain’t got plans for today.”

“When do I ever?” Watch him head upstairs and hope whatever he has planned won’t be too hard on my wallet.

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Catw00man & Zippit - mbn@cryptoffic.com