|
|
|
" something's gotta be wrong cuz I'm feelin' way too damned good..." Nickleback
Part 2 of my story, "Returner". Hope you're enjoying it so far!
"I suppose it's good that she's angry, it'll make it easier if she finds out...well..." He looked down at the coffee mug, steam still curling off the top. It was time to go, he'd said his good byes, he didn't bother with a coat or anything, he figured the next semi or trash truck would work just fine, just look the other way, walk on out. He pushed open the door and went out into the brisk air, the air bit his skin through the thin clothes but right now, it felt good, everything felt good, it was almost over. Traffic seemed pretty like, but Simon's Gorge was right over there, and by the looks of it, it looked low. He crossed the street slowly and stood looking down, crippled hands on the railing. He thought of all the people he had failed, disappointed and hurt. He thought of all the mistakes he'd made and time wasted. He could never get those things back, never make amends. He was such a waste, all the high expectations, and he'd amounted to nothing, he was pathetic, useless, and unwanted. All of it made him want to shoot up again, and that was something he didn't want anymore. Though it wanted him oh so very much. She'd pitied him, and he was right, he didn't know what she wanted, she'd end up with a truly wonderful man one day, he knew it, it was what she deserved. He started to climb up the railing, it was cold and rusty. Jezza scrambled back around the corner of the diner, past the closed shops and the silent offices. Where would he go, she wondered, and then remembered the bridge over the river. Sprinting down towards it, she almost didn’t see him standing there, like an already gone shade of the past. A light fog had risen, making it hard to see, and he had been dressed in dark clothing to begin with. She slowed down, thinking it best not to startle him. He seemed to be contemplating something as he stood upon the railing, looking down into the darkness below. Her heart hammered anxiously upon her ribcage. “Joth…? Joth, what are you…doing?” she called out softly to him. At first, he seemed not to notice, but suddenly he seemed to shake himself, and he turned to face her, his face sad, and his eyes farseeing. “I’m doing what’s right, Jez,” he replied, and backed up against the edge. Jezza stopped breathing. “You don’t want to do this…please…it isn’t right. I don’t want you to!” "You'll find someone wonderful, deserve someone wonderful. I'm, well, I'm not worth much to anyone." A tear slid silently down his dirty, care worn cheek. "I love you Jez, I really didn't want you to see me do this." He got off the rail and stood with his hands awkwardly at his side. "Please, go, I can't do this with you here, but I need to do it, before I hurt anyone else like I hurt you." “How can you even say that you love me! If you loved me, you’d never want to leave me…and you’ve already done that once.” Her eyes burned with anger and tears. “I’m not going anywhere! I’ve always been…here…here for you, Joth. I never gave up on us. I knew you had to do what was best for you, just as I had to do what was best for me, but I was always true to you. And I’ll be true to you now! So you do what you think is best. But don’t you dare justify it by saying it was best for me, do you understand?” She glared up at him, her dark hair gently blowing in the mild breeze that was always near the bridge. The air sharpened, and the next thing they both knew, snow was beginning to fall, thick and fast. Jezza shivered and clutched her coat tighter, but didn’t take her gaze from the man standing upon the iron rail of the bridge. She prayed silently that he’d come to his senses. She didn’t care about what had happened in the past. Seeing him again had awakened a longing for things she’d almost written off…family…children…him. Why couldn’t he see that he was all she’d ever wanted? Why didn’t he want her? She pushed the negative questions to the side. “Please…please Joth! Please come down! I’ll take you to my house…or…anywhere you want to go…but don’t do this. You aren’t thinking straight. Come home with me, and let me--” What? Take care of him? He didn’t want her to do that, obviously. What could she say to make him listen to her? She needed more time with him. It wasn’t fair… "Wh....wh...why are you so willing to take me back Jezza? Why would you possibly want me to be with you now? What good am I to you?" He waited, shivering in his thin clothing, his hands ached and he was tired, very, very tired. Yet there she was, still shining like a lighthouse in this storm. He slumped down to the ground, to tired to stand any longer. "I'm tired...maybe...maybe you should take me to bed Jezza… I'm so cold, and...just...sleep for a long, long while..." With that he passed out, feverish and pale. Jezza shrieked as he collapsed, and lunged for him, catching his head before it hit the railing. He was burning up! “Oh, Joth…dammit, what have you done to yourself?” she chided softly, worried. She managed to half drag, half carry him down from the ledge, and then used her cell phone to call a cab, and then enfolded him inside her over coat while she waited. Thirty minutes later, she…along with the cab driver…had him inside the house she lived in off Willing Circle and she was looking down at him wondering what to do next. She started a bath for him, and somehow got him into the bathroom, where he semi revived and lost the small amount of food he’d eaten, and then she ran a bath for him, stripped him of his clothes, the sight of so much wasted flesh on him frightened her, and put him into the warm water. She bathed him gently, and quickly and with his help, she got him dressed in a pair of p.j.’s and insisted that he get into the full sized bed in her room. He was asleep again, before his head touched the pillow, the dark hair contrasting against the pale blue pillowcase…the dark hollows beneath his eyes making her heart ache. He’d asked why she would want him back…wasn’t the answer obvious? She sat in an armchair beside the bed, and laying her head beside him, she went to sleep, with one hand gripping one of his tightly. Sometime in the night, he had cried out, in the grip of some dream and woke her, and she eased onto the bed beside him, and pulled him close. His arm encircled her waist, and he nestled against her chest and settled down once more, and they were like that until the morning. He awoke with a start, his body aching...but warm and...he looked down to see a once familiar head nearby and hand holding his own stiff, unreliable hand and he started to cry gently. This had to be heaven and he had to of fallen off the bridge last night. Shortly he was sobbing and shaking until she as well came to a start. "Oh Jezza, I'm so sorry, so…so sorry, please forgive me! I thought I was doing right by you. Tell me this isn't a dream or heaven, because if I am dead or dreaming, I don't deserve to be with you." He pulled her as close as he could and kissed her gently once, then again. "It hurts so much, I don't know if the pain will ever go away, Jezza, my sweet Jezza." He cried until he couldn't anymore, and he held her as close as he could, still not sure if he could trust this or if it would all fade like it had some many times before. “I’m very real, Joth…” she whispered, hugging him back, feeling his starved frame shaking from the storm of weeping. A few tears leaked from her eyes too. “I’m no dream…trust me!” She leaned her head up to look into his eyes. “How’d you sleep? Are you hungry? I know the pajamas are a little…feminine…but they fit pretty good don’t they?” She smiled at him, and wiped at her eyes, and then gave a big yawn and stretch, sitting up, The sunlight slanted through the slatted blinds and cast and intriguing pattern on her medium brown skin. Her braid had come undone, and now her hair was a soft mass of waves flowing over one shoulder. “Oh, come on now, don’t look at me like that,” she chided teasingly, when she caught him staring at her with an unreadable gaze. “You know I can make a mean toaster strudel!” She stood up, and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, her heart light and a feeling of….what, contentment?… settled over her. Having him here felt so right, she thought. She didn’t know what she’d do if he left again. She hummed as she put on a pot of coffee, and opened the fridge, bending over to peer inside. She didn’t know what he’d like for breakfast, but if she had to go shopping, she knew she’d drop everything and get it done! He came into the kitchen a few minutes later, still dressed in the pajamas, a pale shadow of his former self, with a tousled, still sleepy look about him. “I’m not really hungry for food, Jez,” he murmured. He took her hand gently and lead her into the bathroom, he was quiet and a bit unsure of himself, but he needed this. As badly as he needed this, especially with her, he had to be careful, he tried to slow his racing heart. He turned and picked up both of her hands in his. His were scarred, quivering, clumsy things, hers were dark skinned, lovely, mobile. He just stared at them for a while, then his gazed proceeded up to her forearms, the crook of her elbows, the slight swell of her upper arms, his eyes ate up the details like he'd never seen her before. Reaching up he hesitantly touched her night shirt and began to pull it up over her head. His hands trembled but he persisted and dropped it to the floor when it was over her head. He admired her dark skin and how it contrasted with his, the smoothness of it, yes, he wasn't hungry for food, but he could certainly devour her. He carefully ran a crooked finger behind her ear and down her jaw line, then along her collar bone, he loved the texture of her skin, like velvet. He ached in a way he hadn't in a very long time, it took a Herculean effort to control himself. He slowly got on his knees while he looked up at her, worshipping his savior, and hooked his fingers oh so gently in her waist band, it hurt to do it, but for her, he would and with all the speed of a mountain rising from the sea he removed them as well. The panties followed suit and he was in awe, he had forgotten and the short years he had been away seemed to have only improved her. He stayed on his knees and cried, tears of happiness now and caressed her legs with his tortured hands, the back of her knees, the roundness of her buttocks, her ankles and the heaven of her thighs. "Thank you." She stood there patiently, letting him take his time, loving his touch, the way he removed each article as if unwrapping a delicate treasure, she was his treasure. Would always be his. She hoped he would come to remember the time before he’d left. They had been so full of dreams, and she had been hurt that he’d left so easily to pursue his…but she had never stopped loving him. Even though it was warm in the bathroom, she felt a thrill of desire raise goose bumps along her skin, which he smoothed away with his hands…so warm, and slightly rough; familiar, but different because of the injuries he’d suffered. She brought her hands down upon his shoulders while he knelt there, gently kneading them, and then slid them up to caress his face, wiping at the dampness she felt there, running back into his hairline, brushing back a stray lock that had fallen over his forehead. She leaned over, and gently kissed the top of his head, and then without saying a word, she helped him stand up, and undressed him just as carefully, her palms grazed his skin occasionally. Then she turned on the shower, and taking him by the hand, pulled him beneath the warm spray. Again she let her hands drift over him, his shoulders, his chest, the oh so thin waist, the flat stomach, the lean hips…and then she stepped forward, pressing herself into him as she hugged him tight, tears of her own mingling with the shower water. His arms went around her, and suddenly, she was kissing him. Short, questing kisses, that begged for a response, received, and became longer…hungrier…. He loved the warm and soothing water as it rained down upon them, her skin shone and he wanted to melt into her and rub himself up and down the length of her silken body. He buried her mouth under his and explored the center of her sweet voice. He pressed the length of himself against her stomach, he ached to the point that it hurt but he forced himself to go slowly, to savor this, for he still couldn't quite believe it was real and if it wasn't, the longer he was with her, the better. He ran his fingers over every curve, every muscle, and every hollow of her back. The graceful swell of her hips drove him wild with passion, the smooth, tender plane of her stomach and even the shallow depth of her belly button. Her hair, glistening thick and wet inflamed him, made him want to grab it and take her like some rutting beast but again he dropped to his knees and continued his heated explorations. The tight swell of her butt intrigued him and he cupped it as he brought his lips knocking on the gates of heaven. His breath knocking beads of water off the trimmed hairs of her pubic area. His fingers dove into the cleft of her buttock, spreading it gently, touching, rubbing and slowly, hesitantly moving down to her quivering thighs, the back of her knees and her shapely calves. His mouth stayed, hovered, his breath hot, and getting heavy, his manhood twitched and bobbed as he tried to relearn her every inch. Slowly he stood, bracing himself against the wall as he ran his hands gently under her breasts, lifting them like delicate glass. The water pouring down the canyon of her cleavage as he brushed his lips against one n****e, then the other, a thumb grazing one, then the other, teasing them until they stood erect to his ministrations. He wanted to, so badly, take them in his mouth and roll them around his tongue. He pressed against her, hot even in the water. In his mind he took her in every way imaginable, in his mind as it had been for far to long. He whispered in her ear, his voice harsh with want, need, and lust, "Tell. Me. What. You. Want."
((Oh, SCHNAPZ!!! I forgot to tell ya'll that there was some brief scenes that were rated R! I just won't post them here. Dun wanna get in trouble with the bureaucrats! Sorry ya'll, but we'll have to fade out on the naughty stuff...))
Several hours later, after a much more sedate shower and pleasant aching and tired bodies he spooned her gently and propped up on his elbow, looked down into her eyes. He mouthed thank you and irrationally, felt himself stirring again just thinking of the bliss he had endured, but he pushed it aside for now, for one, now he was hungry, ravenous, starved. "Let's go to the store, pick up some things, and I'll make my crab meat Alfredo. What do you think Jez?" He traced the roundness of her breasts as he waited for an answer, and his member stirred again, images of their passion flittering though his mind. "Though....I don't think I can wear your pj's..." He smiled faintly, but contentedly, everything seemed to be in a haze, misty and dreamy, this was better than any drug he'd been on, and for once, it didn't leave him empty. “Sounds great! I’ve missed your cooking,” she teased gently, ruffling his dark hair with a contented gleam in her eye. “But I’ve missed you more.” She sat up and put a finger against her lip, ignoring the pooling of the bed sheets around her waist, her soft dark hair tumbling wildly about her shoulders, giving her a wanton look. “You’re right about the clothes though. Mine definitely won’t fit you… I know! I’ll call Donovan. He should have something you can wear, maybe your parents didn’t get rid of them all…” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized what she said, darting a concerned look at him. His parents had been confused, and sad, Ted had packed up all of his gear and moved it out of his room, but she couldn’t remember if Suzette had allowed him to sell any of it. It would probably be down in the basement, in some neat plastic storage crate, labeled with his name and date of storing, if his mother had anything to say about it! “I know it might be too soon, but you’ll have to let them know you’re back sometime,” she said. “I’ll be with you, you know. You don’t have to do it alone.” He looked out the window for a long time before replying, "Not yet Jezza hun, not yet, let's just pick up some cheap sweat pants and a t-shirt for now. Okay?" He wasn't in a hurry, the things he'd said to them, especially his father, he could still remember his mother standing between them, his fists clenched, screaming at his father, and then he'd pushed his mother and stormed out, his father had been right behind, and he'd hit him, he could still see the stunned look on his face, the tears that welled up but wouldn't fall, and his father had turned and let him go. He'd slipped back in that night to grab a few things, and he noticed all of his pictures had been pulled down, anything that had been his was gone. It was enough to make him sick thinking about how foolish he'd been, so stupid. He looked up at Jezza and pulled her down into an embrace and his rough lips brushed against hers, like silk, and he just clung to her and remembered all the pain, and her just being there was his life line, his guiding light. An hour later, dressed in an old pair of painters jeans that she had found in a box in her closet and a plain white t-shirt he almost looked like himself. Thirty pounds lighter and five years older. A few wrinkles around his eyes, his skin a bit weathered from living on the streets, knowledge no man should ever have to know, how to stay warm with newspaper, what to eat out of a trash dumpster, what kinda person may be willing to toss you a buck for a burger, what free clinics would help you with out turning you in, and the desperate homeless, willing to shank you for your shoes, or the warm spot to sleep. His eyes were probably the most changed, in them now swam more pain, more sorrow than he should have to know. His eyes looked old. He turned as Jezza came out and though he didn't know it, some of that pain leeched out, his step was a bit lighter, and he wasn't quite as aware of the pain in his hands. It was cold, but she didn't have a coat to fit him. "You look....you look radiant Jezza." He held up a hand for her to hold as she walked down the last few steps and he tried to open her door, but he just couldn't work it, his hands had no strength, no flexibility. She opened the door and kissed his cheek, then she opened his door for him and as he slipped in he said, "I feel like the tin man, don't suppose you have an oil can handy?" His poor attempt at humor stabbed at her heart. Why was he so down on himself? “You’re no tin man, my love,” she murmured, squeezing his shoulder slightly. She pulled the car out of the driveway and drove to the local supermarket, casting sidelong glances at him from the corner of her eye. She could be content to stare at him forever, she thought with a soft smile.
((Okay...this is the second part...was it good for you too? LOL The third and final part will be up right after some messages...or something! 3nodding ))
Jezzika · Sat Sep 02, 2006 @ 11:16pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|