Aiming to Score

Home : Stories by Catw00man : RCR 2008 AU : Path of Thorns - Aiming to Score

Summary: Earnhardt’s lookin’ for some action.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
SERIES/SETTING: Path of Thorns
CHARACTERS: Dale Earnhardt Jr/Clint Bowyer, Kevin Harvick, Dale Jr POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #86 & 93 (#61 & 68 for me) Juggling & Chimera
COMPLETED: May 29, 2008
WORDS: 5,003
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: I figured with a day off in Vegas, why wouldn’t the boys stay at a casino? My world, my rules. ;) This picks up shortly after Desire’s Casualty.
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Las Vegas Preseason Testing - Monte Carlo Hotel: January 29, 2008

I can’t believe we’re still in the casino.  Crowds and the obnoxious noise of too close slot machines are not what I had in mind for us tonight.  To be honest I almost bailed on him before he even got here because I don’t wait for people.  It’s not what I do and it’s not because I think I’m too “good” to be waiting around.  Normally I just ain’t got the time.  Before I came to RCR, Teresa had me juggling a schedule twice as busy as anyone in the sport and a part of me got a little used to it.  I ain’t running myself as ragged for others anymore, but I still don’t like to be kept waiting…especially not for what is supposed to be some quick and easy action.

Toss a few more chips on number four as they push the dice down to the babbly blonde at the end of the table and I have to wonder exactly what I’m doing.  I don’t even like craps.  I’d much prefer a quiet game of poker and strategy, far away from the chaotic hum of the casino floor.  But here I am, playing the odds as Clint orders another Jack and coke from the waitress.  This really is starting to feel way too much like a date.  It’s one thing to socialize with your teammate, but somehow this is starting to feel like there’s something else going on.

Catch the scent of cologne as he reaches down to gather some of his chips from the rich, red felt and I wonder who he’s trying to impress.   I’m not exactly sure what it is about him tonight but from the moment he met me in the bar something’s seemed…different.  Glint of silver catches my eye as he pulls his hand back and it takes me a moment to realize it’s not from the watch he habitually wears.  He stacks his chips on the rail and then spins the silver and onyx ring around his finger with his left hand.  When the hell did Bowyer start wearing a ring?  And is that a silver chain under the collar of his button down?  What the hell is going on with him tonight?

Look down the table when the blonde starts bouncing and screaming when she hits the point again and I motion to the dealer to take down my numbers.  No one’s luck can run as long as hers has and I’m about tired of this game anyway.  Watch the dice fly by and sure enough there it is.  Craps seven and a chorus of groans mingle with her whine as the table is cleared with the roll, all except for my bet sitting on the “Don’t Pass Bar.”  Take my winnings, ignoring the glares of the unlucky, and glance over as Clint ponders his own dwindling pile of chips.  How much longer does he want to do this?  I always try to leave on a winning streak and I can think of a lot of other things I’d rather be doing right now…like banging my teammate over the nearest flat surface. 

Elbow Clint when his drink arrives and lean closer to him as I place the ante for the next roll.  “You ‘bout done here?  Cuz I can think of a lot better things we could be doing that ain’t gonna leave you broke.”  Take a long swallow of my beer and deliberately trace my fingertips over the inside of his wrist, slowly gliding over the smooth skin.  Feel his slight shiver and grin to myself.  That’s right, I know you want me.  So let’s stop screwing around and start screwing each other.

“Yeah, yeah I bet we could,” he replies softly and adds his own chips to the table.  A moment later the point is set, then made and he scoops up his winnings as I let mine ride.  Watch as he stacks and restacks the chips in his hand and can’t help but grin as the tension rises between us…along with other things.  Purposefully shift a little bit closer so our arms are touching and grin when he asks me conversationally, “So, tell me, when did you start worrying about me losing my shirt?”

He raises his head from studying his chips and I’m met by bright blue eyes that are laced with a trace of uncertainty?  He should be used to this dance by now.  What game is he playing?  Why don’t we just cash in, head upstairs, and I’ll show him all about how worried I am about his shirt and the rest of his clothes.  Lean a bit closer, my hand on his shoulder as if I’m telling him some hush-hush secret.  Lips almost graze his earlobe as I lower my voice, “It’s not so much your shirt I’m concerned with as I am those too tight jeans you’ve got on.  Tell me Bowyer, you getting a little uncomfortable yet?”

Lick my lips slowly when I see my words visibly have an effect on him and I know he can’t keep this going much longer.  He wants this as much as I do.  Slowly trail my gaze over him and don’t miss how he shifts on his feet.  Oh yeah, lean up against the table.  You ain’t hiding a damn thing from me.  Watch his tongue slip out to wet firm lips that I can’t wait to feel wrapped around my cock.  Yeah, that’s what I want tonight.  I didn’t get to enjoy it enough in Tennessee.  Reach for my beer and grin as I remember his surprising boldness in my rental car.  I could definitely use some more of that.  Tilt my head back to down the rest of my beer but then practically choke at his next words.  “So, you wanna grab something to eat or something?  Maybe a show?  I heard this place has a good--”

Somehow manage to swallow down my beer and shoot him a look that cuts him off and starts him visibly fidgeting.  Daddy’s not the only one who’s mastered the “intimidating” stare and I hold it until he has to look away.  That’s right.  Daddy taught the redneck more than just drafting.  Continue to glare until the dealer asks if we’re in or out and I wave him off with one hand.  Fuck the chips.  Fuck it all.  Lean closer to him and growl under my breath, “You wanna eat, I’ll give you something to eat, but I’m done with this game.”

Turn sharply away from the table and don’t look back as I stride across the casino floor.  I don’t give a shit about my winnings or anything else.  If he doesn’t want to do this tonight then I know I can find someone else who’d be more than willing.  I am practically “NASCAR royalty” right?  Who wouldn’t want a piece of me?  Besides, the night’s still young.  I shouldn’t have any trouble finding a nice warm body to cool me down.  Hell, maybe even Harvick.  He’s a damn bastard but I’d lay good money he’s good in the sack…especially with how he walks like he’s god’s gift to sex.  This is bullshit.  I shouldn’t have to be on the fucking hunt when I should’ve had a sure thing.  But Clint needs to know I’m not gonna play games.  This is what it is whether he likes it or not.

Make it halfway to the lobby when I feel a tentative hand tugging at my elbow and for a moment I consider shaking him off and heading back to my room and saying screw it all.  But I don’t want to go back upstairs and I really don’t feel like hunting down the strip for some cheap form of entertainment.  Harvick is here somewhere but I know that could go one of two ways and I’m really not in the mood to be verbally castrated by that acidic tongue of his.  Clint is my best bet…but I’m not making this easy.

Stop between a couple empty blackjack tables when he tugs at my arm again but I don’t turn to face him.  Not yet.  No, I’m going to drag this out.  Look across the less populated part of the room and study “the cage” where they exchange chips for money and vice versa.  Take my time and count each and every bar twice, letting the awkwardness draw out between us and I know he has to be fidgeting like crazy trying to figure out what I’m going to do.  And that’s exactly how I want him.  Off balance.

Finally turn around to face him and I expect to see the uneasy rookie I met a few years ago when he was racing Martin in Busch.  He was so unsure then.  Hell, he was so unsure starting the Chase last year without a win.  He couldn’t even do an interview without getting all nervous and uncomfortable.  Smirk slowly at the thought and then look to meet…steel blue eyes and an unwavering stare that’s actually a rival for my own.  Fuck, when did he get so damn bold?  Hold his gaze by sheer will alone and it’s an instant battle of wills I’m not going to lose.

Somehow I forgot about the change in him and I know I’m not the only one.  Even with his third place finish last year he still goes mostly unnoticed and I’m starting to wonder if maybe he likes that.  You can take a lot of people off guard when you aren’t what they expect.  I know.  I’ve played the stupid country boy more times than I can count to gain an advantage and just maybe Clint’s done the same.  I’ll give him this, he’s definitely been worth my time.  Continue to hold his gaze another long moment until he finally breaks and tells me in a lowered voice as he starts to turn away, “C’mon.”  He pauses two steps away when I don’t immediately follow and a slow smile curls his lips.  “What’s wrong Earnhardt?  Suddenly get shy?”

That little shit.

“Hell no.  Lead the way Bowyer,” I snap back and shake my head.  Damn country boy really is full of surprises.  Now I have to wonder if this whole night has been nothing but a game from the beginning.  I’d have expected something like that from Harvick with all his pranks and ridiculous stunts, but not Bowyer.  He’s never really seemed the manipulative type to me.  But who knows, maybe I read him all wrong.  It wouldn’t be the first time I misread one of my conquests.

Watch him closely as he leads me through the less active part of the casino and take notice of how he fidgets with the ring on his right hand, thumb spinning it around and around his finger.  He’s also run his left hand along the shell of his ear twice since he’s taken the lead and I know that move on him.  I’ve seen it plenty of times.  He’s not as “in control” as he wants me to believe.  He’s still playing catch up as fast as he can and I have to give him credit.  He’s kept up with me better than I ever expected from that first kiss at the Christmas party.  Trail my gaze over the tight jeans hugging his tight ass and I know this is gonna be one hell of a season.

Slide my hand along the rail of an empty roulette table and then continue to follow him as he turns down a hallway I didn’t even notice.  Walk past a tall metal cart that’s probably used for moving racks of chips or something and glance to the end of the hall to see a fire exit marked on the only door.  It’s a dead end, unless he plans on setting off the alarms to go outside, so that can only mean one thing.  Clint’s a little exhibitionist slut…or at least he wants me to think he is.  Grin even more when he finally stops short and I just wait, ready to see what he plans to do.

Watch as his shoulders rise and fall and I know he’s taking a deep breath, but for what?  What exactly does he have in mind?  Is he really bold enough to try something with me out in the open?  Sure we’d have the semi-shelter of the cart but honestly that’s not much.  Anyone who comes by and cared to look could easily--

“This the kind of ‘game’ you had in mind, Junior?”  Watch as he finally spins around and there’s that look again, unwavering, blue steel that’s already getting me more than a little hard.  Lock eyes with him and shoot him a crooked grin as he easily closes the distance between us, his hands moving to my waist and hooking in my belt loops as he slowly moves backwards towards the wall.  “I think you said something about offering me something to…eat, didn’t ya?  That offer still valid?”

Eyes widen slightly at his sudden boldness and I move him backwards until his back hits the wall, just to the right of the metal cart.  Lick my lips slowly and study his face closely, looking for any traces of backing down because I’ll be damned if he gets me all riled up only to leave me wanting.  “You better not be writing a check your mouth can’t cash, Bowyer,” I growl low against his ear and lean forward to pin him to the wall.  Grind my hips against him and make my intentions perfectly clear as I run my hands greedily down his sides.  He’s never straight up made this offer since I goaded him into it in Tennessee and I’ll not be fucked with.

“I think I cashed out purty damn well in Nashville, didn’t I?  Or do you always scream like that when you’re unsatisfied?”  Slam my entire body against him at his words, knocking him back against the wall hard as I claim his mouth in a demanding kiss.  Unsatisfied my ass.  It was far from the best blow job I’ve ever had but to have my teammate so willingly giving me head at just a request.  Yeah, it was fucking hot.  Just like this would be if he’s not talkin’ shit.

“So what’re you waitin’ for,” I mock him in a voice already hoarse from barely restrained lust.  I don’t usually play around like this, and my patience is already wearing thin so he better put out before I just decide to take what I want…again.

“Not a damn thing,” he quips back and then I feel his hands at my waist, unfastening my jeans and I let out a soft hiss as the restricting material is finally released.  Fuck yes.  Now if his hands just wouldn’t be  so damn tentative.  Shit Clint, you want it, take it.  Feel his hands fumbling with the denim at my hips and I’ve had enough.  Push him against the wall again and then take his hand and shove it down the front of my pants, underneath my boxers until he’s got my throbbing, hard cock in his hand.

“You want this, Bowyer?  Do something about it.”  Watch as his eyes seem to darken even more and that jaw turns hard as iron as he clenches his teeth.  For a moment I think he might be ready to push me off but then he slowly starts to slide down the wall to his knees.  Gasp when he squeezes me tighter than I expect and I have to support myself with one hand on the wall as I stifle a moan.  That’s right Clint.  Get on your knees and be my bitch.

“This doing something for you, Earnhardt?” He hisses at me as he pulls me completely from my jeans and drags his nails none too gently over my sensitive flesh.  Practically jump out of my skin at the intense sensation but then all too soon he’s handling me with kid gloves again.  Dammit I wish he’d just let go and be wild, fucking take control.  Part my lips to tell him to stop taking it easy when he takes that moment to suck me past his lips and for a moment nothing else seems to matter.

“Fuck yesssss,” I groan under my breath and spare a quick glance to the end of the hall to see that we’re still alone.  That’s all we’d need is to have to explain to NASCAR why two of their top drivers were found fornicating in public.  But the coast is clear and shit, who really gives a damn.  It’s not like I couldn’t explain my way out of it.  Suck in a breath as he takes me deeper and I take that moment to look down at him so perfectly on his knees.

His hands are resting on my hips and I reach down to thread my fingers through his spiked, blonde hair, watching as his eyes instantly snap up to look at me.  Curl my fingers against the gel and god knows what else he uses to make his hair stand up and meet his gaze to let him know that he’s not the one running this show.  But he knows that.  He’s known that from the first time I took him.  It’s just nice to make sure he knows it.  Rock my hips forward slightly and hold him exactly how I want him as he continues to suck me off and I swear, he’s so much better than last time. 

My breaths come quicker as a slow burn starts to coil through my groin and my eyes finally flutter closed as I rest my head on my forearm against the wall.  Fuck, so close already.  Rock my hips forward, pushing a little deeper and, yes, fuck, I’m almost there.  Feel his lips tight around me as he bobs his head over my cock, savor the feel of his throat as he swallows around me again and again.  Sucking harder, just like that, and then slowly pulling back….

“What the fuck?”  Eyes snap open and I’m ready to rip him apart for teasing me until I actually see what he’s doing.  Feel the cool, slick substance slide over my cock as he runs his hand over me and just when did Clint start carrying lube?  The way he’s acted before I’d have loved to see the look on his face when he went and bought it.  He was planning this, or some variation of it.  He had to be.  Why else would he be so prepared?

“I want you,” he tells me in a rough, husky voice as he slides up the wall to meet me face to face.  He’s still stroking me slow with one hand and those unwavering blue eyes leave no doubt in my mind he’s serious.  Shit, I was just expecting a quick bj but if this is what he wants….

Kiss him hard on the mouth and push his already unfastened jeans open just enough to get my hand inside.  Fuck, he’s not even wearing anything underneath and he’s already slick with precome.  He really is as much of a slut as I am, or if not he puts on one hell of a show.  Kiss him deep, commandingly, and he yields completely under my assault, just like I expect him to.  He’s not a total push over, he’s already proven that, but he’s more than willing to give me exactly what I want.

Tighten my fist around him and pump a few times until he’s shaking and groaning into my mouth.  That’s right Bowyer, don’t worry.  You’re going to get exactly what you want.  Crush my body against his, rubbing against him slowly, and relish the hard, willing plains of his body just begging for mine.  And he’ll get it, right after I have a little fun of my own.  “You want me, huh?  Is that why you’re all prettied up?  Is that all for me, Clint?”

Feel him stiffen against me and I tighten my hand around his cock, stroking him with practiced ease until he can’t help but relax into my coaxing.  I guess I must have struck a nerve.  Truth is I don’t care why he’s fancied himself up.  If he wants to look good for a booty call, that’s his business.  I just want this.

Spin him around quickly and hear the muffled sound of his hands clawing against the faded, yellowish wall paper.  Press my body flush against his as soon as he’s back against the wall and slide his jeans down just enough.  “I hope you lubed me up good, Bowyer.  We ain’t really got time to take it slow.”  A grunt under his breath is his only response and I take that as an invitation to keep going.  Move my hands to hips to get him in position and then thrust my hips forward, slow and even, and oh, holy fuck is he tight like this.  “Shiiiiiit Clint, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Just…don’t stop,” he manages to say through gritted teeth and I’m sure this has got to be killing him too.  I’d give anything to just tear his jeans off completely and fuck him hard and wild just like I have before.  But for this to work it’s going to take discretion and, God damn, more technique than I thought.  Thrust my hips forward harder until I’m finally buried completely inside him and I swear he seems twice as tight as usual.  But hell, he can barely spread his legs like this and, oh fuck….

“Do that again,” I growl against his ear and bite at the tender spot underneath it as he clenches tight around me again.  Rock my hips back, just barely pulling out and then slam into him harder, nailing us both against the wall.  This is so much different than the way I normally do things, but then I hear the mingled sounds of the casino just steps away and suddenly I’m the one trembling with lust.  There’s just something about knowing you could get caught that’s always made me hot.  I’ve just never really had anyone wild enough, or willing enough, to explore it with.  Who knew Clint would be the one?

Thrust forward deeply, again and again, trying to get as deep as I can and there’s no way I’m going to last much longer.  Hear his heavy breathing as I wrap one arm tight around his waist and I know he’s got to be as close as I am.  See a trickle of sweat run down his cheek as he pants and taste it on my tongue when I hungrily kiss his neck, and I’ll be tasting a lot more, in just…another…minute….

Cold, wet, water in my face.  What the fuck?  Alarms going off, the sound of people coming closer, what the hell is going on?  Instinctively tighten my arm around Clint when he stiffens and then struggles in my arms.  “Junior, shit, leggo, that’s the fire alarms.”  Loosen my arm from around him and pull back, wincing as I try to cram my hard-on back into my jeans.  God dammit, this isn’t how things are supposed to go!  Hiss as I finally get my jeans zipped up and see Clint smooth his wet hair back as the mist falls all around us.  People move past, heading for the exit down the hall and I duck my head and turn towards the wall, trying to look as in conspicuous as possible when I feel it.

Eyes. 

On me.

I can feel it, a gaze crawling over my skin, and I spin around, bumping into a tall very well dressed, very pissed off man who gives me a shove that sends me back a step.  I start to push him back as he passes by but something in his eyes and the way his hand hovers at his waist makes me think better of it.  Shit!  Why does something about all this feel so…off?  It’s like it’s right there at the edge of my brain but I can’t grab onto it.

“June, we should get out of here.”  Feel the tug at my arm and I jerk away as I wipe at the water streaming down my face.  Hell no, I’m not leaving until I figure this out.  Barely even notice my clothes sticking to me like a second skin or the fact that there’s a throb in my groin that isn’t going away anytime soon.  Feel Clint touch my arm again but one look from me has him pulling his hand away as if he were burned and I swear the look on his face is like I just kicked his puppy.  Jesus, get over yourself already.

“Hold on, aight?” I snap at him and spin around again, ignoring the pathetic sight that is him with his pleading blue eyes and once perfectly styled hair plastered to his forehead.  “Head upstairs if you want.”  Reach into my pocket for my room key and throw it at him blindly, not even looking to see if he catches it or not.  I’ll deal with him as soon as I figure out what--

Him.

Oh holy shit.  It’s him.

I know it the instant I lay eyes on him at the opening to the hallway.  He’s leaning against the wall, looking right at me with his arm stretched out over his head like some kind of half man half feline predator.  Or maybe he’s the devil.  I don’t know.  But I do know that look in his eyes is making me feel like an animal in a cage.  He’s as completely soaked to the bone as I am and he doesn’t seem to care one bit as people move around him, giving him a wide berth and I don’t blame them.  The tightly coiled danger and rage wafts off him in waves and I can’t help but wet my lips as I look at him.  Flashing green eyes that I swear would stop my heart if they could remain locked on me and now it’s me that’s doing the fidgeting…until he smiles.

See the change in his eyes as the slow smirk crosses his face and all I want to do is run down the hall and pound him senseless.  He’s mocking me.  The bastard is fucking mocking me, again, and I want to pound his face in, want to wipe that smirk off his face and feed it to him in a rage but somehow I’m rooted to the spot.  Watch as he slowly slides his hand down the wall and crosses his arms as he moves to lean against it again.  Heat spreads over my body at the look he shoots me and it’s only then that it really hits me.  This isn’t a coincidence.  He wasn’t just watching us.  He wasn’t just spying on our little tryst.  He caused all of this.

Eyes widen as everything falls into place and I’m as certain of it as I am my own name.  I don’t know how he did it, not with casinos so full of cameras and people watching your every move.  Maybe he paid some idiot to do it, someone who didn’t care if they were caught just to make a buck.  But I know he did it, and as his eyes flick to Clint and back to me I know he did it all to ruin our night.  That son of a bitch.  How dare he fuck with me like this.

 Feel Clint go still next to me and that’s when I realize he’s seen him too.  Glance over at him as the sprinklers finally cut off and he really does look like a drowned rat.  But it doesn’t matter.  If Harvick thinks he can control my extracurricular activities he’s got another thing comin’.  Take a quick look around to see that we finally seem to be alone again except for Kevin and then turn towards Clint and kiss him hard on the mouth. 

He’s obviously stunned at first but as I slide my hand behind his neck to tug him closer he turns to putty in my hands.  Deepen the kiss even more not stopping until I’ve wrung a low groan from him and only then do I pull slightly back.  Slowly turn my head to look at Harvick and now it’s my turn to smile because I can already tell that he’s livid.  His jaw is clenched tight, hands are balled into fists and all traces of amusement have left his smug little face.  That’s right jackass, two can play at this game.  Slowly slide my hand down Clint’s back and deliberately squeeze his ass, all in plain view for Kevin to see.  He already looks like he’s ready to explode as he shoots daggers with his eyes.  Let’s see if I can twist the knife a little more.

Hand at Clint’s lower back I urge him back down the hall so we’ll pass right by him and I wonder if he’ll be able to hold himself in check.  Wait until we get right on him and then speak to Clint loud enough for him to hear.  “C’mon Shifty,” I say, deliberately using Kevin’s nickname for him.  “Let’s head upstairs and get cleaned up.  Didn’t you say your room had one hell of a whirlpool?”

I feel Kevin flinch as we pass by and if I remember right I think Clint mentioned his room was adjoining Harvick’s.  I’ll know soon enough, and if it is I’m going to make sure the bastard doesn’t sleep a wink tonight.  I’m not some dumb rookie or fresh faced idiot to be toyed around with.  Two can play this game.  He may be good, we’ve all heard about his exploits, but he’s never taken on an Earnhardt before.  He’s about time he finds out exactly how much of an asshole I can be. 

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com