04/??: DREAMING OF YOU - Dennis Wideman/Marc Savard

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

Title: Dreaming of You
Author: geekintehpink 
Pairing/Characters: Marc Savard/Dennis Wideman.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Porn. LOL. Just porn.
Summary: Marc's mind is more willing to let go and love Dennis than his body.
Word Count: 1,320
Author's Notes: Thanks ovielove  and honeybee718  for being awesome and pre-reading it for me, as usual. XD
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, don't sue. Kthxbai.

You really don't understand the sinking feeling you've had since you left Dennis' house. Yeah, you took a second to listen to his message. And yeah, he did say that it's okay because he feels it too. But that scares you even more. You don't know if you can take having mutual feelings for someone. Not again.

When he was just a fantasy? When he was that one unobtainable man that yeah, you wanted, but no, you couldn't have? God damn was it amazing. But now that you know that he wants you, too, you're unbelievably petrified. You want to run, you want him out of your life. But you really don't. You want him with you. All the time. In your life, in your arms and in your bed. He has everything you could have ever imagined wanting and more, and god, two years ago, there would have been nothing stopping you. But now? You know what there is to lose, here. And it makes you feel sick.

You feel like someone is continuously punching you in the stomach, but it doesn't really hurt, so much as make you want to throw up. You're sitting on your couch, staring at the blank TV screen, wondering why it's not on something funny. Something that can take your mind off what went wrong. How did it go wrong? Your heart hurts and you wonder whatever piece of your brain had compelled you to even go over to his place, because you had known from the start that you should have just gone home. Leaning your head back, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment. Just for a moment, because you know that you have to do something, anything with yourself to get your mind off what just happened.

But as soon as you're planning to get up and go to the kitchen, do your dishes or something, ANYTHING at all to make yourself feel less insane, you hear a knock at the door. At eleven at night? Really? You never got company this late at night...though you can mostly attribute that to the fact that you're usually over at Dennis' place. You chuckle at that thought, but frown at the realization that after the show you put on tonight, he's never going to want you to come over again. Your expression goes somber and put your hand on the doorknob, opening the door...and your face goes white.

There he is. Does he not get the hint? You've already told him off twice today, and you'll do it a third if you have to. You sigh, and you're about to tell him this when he pushes past you and kicks the door closed, pinning you against it. And your lips are crushed with his again, that familiar feeling of his hand in your hair the way it had been mere moments ago, making your body feel as though it could sweat bullets. God, you're on fire. How is it that he can do this to you with just a kiss? His body is like a plug and you're a socket and you fit together perfectly.

His hands are running along your entire body, and you sigh contentedly when you feel them playing at your belt. All thought of asking him to leave is officially gone and you're sinking into him, burying your face in his neck as he finally loosens your belt and tosses it to the floor. Tilting your head up, you look into his eyes and see that soft smile, and for a second, you're blinded with the love you know you're feeling for him. And you see, in the way he's looking at you, that he would never hurt you. Ever. And that makes it okay to let yourself sink into this. You let your body melt into his and bite your lip when you feel the zipper to your jeans being lowered slowly.

“Oh God, Dennis...” you let out a low groan.

You let your eyes fall to his lips, and that little, sly smirk that's playing at them, and you have all you can do not to come in your jeans like a teenager. Instead, you crash your lips into his and try to show him how much you love him without speaking. And your whole world is sent spinning when you feel his hand wrap around your cock.

Up you sit with a start, and your whole body is soaking wet. And you're on fire. And Jesus Christ, you're hard. Your breath is bated as you look around your living room and sigh deeply at the fact that it was all a fucking dream. A wet dream. Jesus you haven't had a wet dream since juniors and even then, you woke up and got a blow job from your roommate, and it was over as soon as it began. But now, there was nothing you could do. No one you could call. Well, no one you should call. The dream version of you may be able to let go of the nagging feeling that it was okay to love Dennis, but your real brain knows better. Because even if he wouldn't hurt you, which you know he wouldn't? You know yourself. And when you hurt him, you'd hate yourself.

But god damn it, your body is screaming for release. You vault off the couch like you're on springs and lose your jeans like they're on fire, on your way to the bedroom. And when you're on the way there, you let out a laugh at the fact that you haven't had to jerk off since you started in the NHL. It's only been because you wanted to, but for the love of Christ, right then, you need it. You need the feeling of release, need to let your body have what it needs. You lower your boxers and throw yourself to the bed, grabbing your lubricant from the bedside table and haphazardly covering your hand and quickly closing your fist around your throbbing dick, and you could cry at how good it feels. Better than good. Your eyes close, practically roll back in your head, and your imagination takes over.

This isn't you. This isn't your hand. In your brain, it's Dennis.

It's Dennis' fist around your cock, and he's still showing you those looks...the ones that tell you exactly how he feels, and make you feel safe. Your brain is continuing where your dream left off. And it doesn't take long at all before your entire body shakes in an intense release, unlike anything you've ever had before. You cry out (Dennis' name, but you won't ever admit that), and let the waves wash over you as you try to come to grips with what had just happened.

It isn't like you gave in, right? It's just jacking off. You've done it before, and you're sure it won't be the last time. But...god, it doesn't feel like enough. Because even after that, even after the amazing release you're still coming down from, your heart feels empty, and all you want is Dennis Wideman, in your life, in your arms and in your bed.

You let out a frustrated groan as you reach over beside you for a couple tissues to clean up the mess you made, and decide on a cold shower to cool your body off...then bed. Because, really, after that, you just need to sleep, and forget this whole fucked up day.

It can't happen, you remind yourself, I can't hurt him if I don't let him in. This is for him.

You sigh a little and toss the tissues into the waste basket, pulling your boxers back up and sit on the edge of the bed. How in the hell did this happen?

And how in the hell are you going to make it stop?

It's up in my heart when it skips a beat
Can't feel no pavement right under my feet
Up in my lonely room, when I'm dreaming of you
Oh what can I do, I still need you, but
I don't want you now

Comments

[holdeverysong.livejournal.com]

My aunt used to work for a US Government funded place (which, in itself says that the place was a mess), and yeah, I totally know what you're talking about there with the spontaneous 'ohai we don't need you anymore so we're cutting ur fundingz kthxbai.' She actually had to search forever for a new job because there were so many layoffs at her old job and by the time they got back to her to possibly come back, she was already manager at her new place of work. Government funded places = teh hellz.

It's good that it's settling. Things should quiet down for you for awhile then. Here's hoping at least.