06/??: MY HEART - Dennis Wideman/Marc Savard
Title: My Heart
Author:
geekintehpink
Pairing/Characters: Marc Savard/Dennis Wideman.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Language, angst and SEX!
Summary: Something in Marc's head clicks.
Word Count: 2,660
Author's Notes: Thanks to
honeybee718 for being awesome and pre-reading it for me, as usual. XD
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, don't sue. Kthxbai.
“Wait!”
You hear his voice from behind you and you sigh. Just keep walking, Marc. Don't stop. You know what'll happen if you stop. It frustrates you that he's not listening. That he's seeking you out after you told him to just go away. You can't take being in close proximity with him, because he found out the hard way what happens when you are. You sigh and keep walking. You can't deal with this. You know what's best for him, and it's anyone but you. Staying the course, reminding yourself inwardly that this is what you have to do, you put your hand on the door, when you hear him again.
“Please...”
He sounds desolate. Lonely and sad. And your heart aches a little. Turning around slowly, you meet his eyes and can't help but notice that they're glistening slightly more than normal. And that kills you. You've brought him to the brink of tears, and you hate yourself for it. “Do you see what I mean?” you ask him, wishing you could tell him how venomous you actually are. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can love and care for him the way he should be cared for. “Do you?”
He takes a couple steps toward you, and it's almost like you can feel him moving the atmosphere around you. And not only are you uncomfortably horny for him, but you feel your heart start to beat in a way it's never beaten before. An erratic thump-pitter-thump-patter that only comes when Dennis is in close proximity. You should move away from him, but you can't. You don't want to. You look at him and wish that you could just make yourself stop loving him so much.
“Not here, Marc. Please come over. We can talk about this at my place...” he asks you. “I don't ask for much. But...please...” his eyes are pleading, and you feel like if you say no, he may cry. And if he cries in front of you, you won't be able to handle it.
You nod silently, glancing at his car and following him to it. You don't know what changed your mind. Don't know or really care. But the next thing you know, your duffel is in the back of Dennis' car, along with his, and you're sitting in the passenger's seat, looking out the window as the familiar route from Ristuccia to his place. Neither of you speak, you just listen to his horrible music as you pass by the exit you would have taken to get to your place. You wonder why you agreed to go in Dennis' car, because you're sure no good can come of this, but it's too late to turn back now. You can't let him down.
Still, you don't think you've ever been this scared before. You're going to be alone with him. For a long time. Not like you haven't before. But...now he knows. He knows everything. Your chest tightens a little, and suddenly you feel like you could have a panic attack. But you won't. Because it's Dennis and you know that he won't hurt you. You take a breath and look at him in the rear view mirror, catching a small glimpse of the side of his head. And you have to smile a little, because he's so damn beautiful. And you love him so damn much.
You see his place approaching, and when the car stops, you get out, momentarily ignoring the things in the trunk. Following him to the front door, you're trying as hard as you can not to look at him. Because you'd cave and kiss him. The door closes behind the two of you, and you wonder why you're not more freaked out than this. But you attribute it mostly to the fact that you haven't looked at his face yet. You don't say anything, because frankly, you're afraid of what you'd say. You're always strong. You always have good will power, but when it comes to him, it just disappears, and all you can think is that you want him in your arms forever. You decide to just let him speak, because you're not ready to yet.
“What makes you think you'll hurt me?” he asks you, and even though you're not looking, you can feel it. You can feel his eyes burning into you and while it's kind of discomforting, you kind of like it when he looks at you.
You shrug and bite your lip. “Dennis, it's what I do, okay? You think you know me so damn well. But you have no fucking clue...” you tell him. He doesn't. He doesn't know a damn thing about what happened with Ilya, or what happened even before that to make you wish that love wasn't even in the list of emotions that people felt. He has no idea about anything. And if he knew? He'd run. He'd be scared that you'd hurt him too and make you go. And you didn't know why you were so scared, because it was what you wanted anyway. You wanted him gone. But you wanted him with you. And really, it was too much to take.
“Well then tell me,” he says, taking his coat off and tossing it to the chair beside the door. “I want to know, Marc. I want to help. I want...” he pauses, trailing off and looking down at the floor.
You bite your lip and look at him. You don't know what he wants, but you want to give it to him. You want to give him what he deserves. Want to make him happy, and you fear for him if he's delusional enough to think that it's you. “You want to know?” you ask, looking up into his eyes and trying not to burst into tears at the sight of that caring, sensitive look he's shooting you. “I'm a bastard. A selfish bastard who had love once but cheated and fucked things up because I'm so fucking scared of letting myself love and be loved, that when it happens I push away. I hurt Ilya bad, but he wanted to give it another try and I wouldn't fucking let him. I don't want to be loved because I...”
He shakes his head and takes a step toward you, putting his hand on your face, and it's not until then that you notice that a tear has managed to leak out. He brushes his thumb along your face and you feel him brushing the tear away. Your eyes meet his, and you feel him gently put his forehead against yours. “Love is scary. I know...” he says simply. “But...what if...” he pauses again, and even as he's standing there, so close, you feel your resolve withering away. You can't resist him, and you know, deep down, that you don't want to. “...what if by thinking that you don't deserve to be loved, but not wanting to be loved, you're letting the one thing go that could stay for good?”
You want to laugh at how naive he is. But you look into his eyes, then feel his arms wrapping softly around your waist and you feel yourself melting, because those eyes...those damned eyes that tell everything that Dennis Wideman is feeling...they show you that he means every word he says. As frightening as that is...a little piece of you wants to find out where this could go. Small, insignificant as that piece of you may be, it's there and it's biting your brain, telling each and every nerve ending connected to just kiss him again. The way his lips feel against yours, since that first time a couple of nights ago, has become oddly necessary, to the point that you almost feel comfortable where you are right now. Almost.
You tilt your head slightly, catching his lips with yours again. But he pulls away for a second. “Promise me you're not going to leave again,” he says softly, almost sadly. And you hear the fear in his voice.
And you don't want it there anymore. “We took your car here, didn't we?” you ask him with a small smile, and you watch him smirk and nod, and cover his lips with yours again.
Only this time it's different. The other kisses you'd shared in the past had been nothing but lips against lips. But this time...this kiss...you want more. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, begging him wordlessly to let you in, and when he does, you let out a low moan. Even the feeling of his tongue against yours makes you want him. And even though your body is reeling, you wait for the alarm to go off, or a sharp noise to come into your ears and pull you out of this. But when nothing comes, instead, his tongue wraps around yours and his hands pull you back toward his bedroom door, you're left in shock. Right then, you don't even want to say no anymore.
Your hands roam to the bottom of his shirt and you find the hem, sneaking your fingers beneath it to find his stomach beneath, and his hand finds the doorknob to his bedroom, and the door is open, with you going in behind him. Reaching a foot out, you kick the door closed and break the kiss for a second, looking into his eyes and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, casting it to the floor. You've seen him totally naked before, so why is his shirt coming off so shocking to you? It's not in a bad way, so you assume it's because you haven't been this close to him, this intimately before.
You feel his hands roaming up your back, beneath your shirt, and his fingers are like little pens with ink made of fire, drawing intricate patterns along your skin. He tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you lift your arms, so he can cast it to the floor. And when he pulls you close now, you could just come undone. The feel of his skin against yours makes you feel like you've been thrown in a pit of fire, but you really, really don't want it to be doused. “Dennis you're so...”
“You too...” he says, not letting you go any farther, before he presses his lips to yours again and his hands find their way to your belt buckle. You press your hips into his, and even through his jeans, you feel that he is starting to take interest in the whole situation, too, and you pull back from the kiss to smirk at him. He reciprocates, and you wonder if, with Dennis, it's always this simple. You hope so, because if your heart is really feeling what you're pretty sure it is, this isn't the last time this will happen.
Your belt is discarded to the floor, and you feel his hands working the front of your jeans open, and you snake your hands between where his arms are tented to work at his, as well. And it's not long before you're both standing in his bedroom, in your boxers, and it becomes blatantly obvious how much both of you want each other. You smile at him and feel him tugging your forearms in the direction of the bed, and you can't help but smile as you both tumble down to it together, and he crawls over you like he's been waiting all his life to have you like this. Everything he's doing seems to be making you feel like this might be okay. This, whatever it is you're feeling for him, might be safe. Be all right to feel. You watch him take a place on his knees, in between your thighs, and he smiles at you.
You smirk, and you both shed your last layer of clothing. You watch him, hypnotized by his naked form, as he leans over you and reaches into a drawer in his bedside table, producing the necessary accessories for what you were about to do. You see that he's about to speak, and you're afraid that what he'll say will ruin the moment for you, so you speak up first.
“Fuck me, Dennis. Please...”
You see a glint in his eyes, and you smile a little more as you see him nod and lubricate his fingers. The pretense is unnecessary, as you're not exactly tight, but it's nice that he's taking the time to care, so you smile a little, but lose all brain function as you feel one of his fingers enter you. A couple seconds of that and then there's two, and then three, and after a few seconds of that, you feel ready. You smirk at him and watch as he continues to finger you, while using the other hand to wrap his cock in a condom and lube it up. You feel his fingers exit and prop your legs up on his shoulders when he guides you there. And you loosen yourself up when you feel him pressing against you, letting out a slow, throaty groan when he enters slowly.
Somehow, sex feels more intimate with Dennis, as your hips are crashing together at a slow, though amazing pace. Without being prompted, he reaches around to grasp your cock in his hand, beginning to stroke at it, matching the rhythm your hips are still keeping. You let out a moan of his name, which he matches with your own name, and you don't remember ever having it sound so sweet. Your body lets out a shudder as you feel yourself coming close, the mix of him being inside you and the feel of his hand around you driving you absolutely insane. A wave of blinding pleasure comes over you as he brushes your prostate and you find yourself unable to hold back anymore. You come with a cry of his name, and mere seconds later, you hear him give off a similar cry of your name, and you know he's there too.
After a few seconds of just laying there, you open your eyes and smile, glancing at him where he lay atop you, still trying to catch his breath, and you smooth his hair back. Slowly, he looks up at you, eyes fogged over with a post-coital haze, and you decide that seeing him like this is the sexiest you have ever seen him. And you decide, also, that you've never loved him more than this. “Dennis, I...”
He cuts you off and smiles, reaching over beside the bed for some tissues. “Me too. Very much, Marc...” he says quietly, and hands you the tissues, the smile still ever-present on his face. “Why don't you clean up, and I'll toss the condom into the trash in the bathroom...and then we can take a nap. Unless you want to go...”
You shake your head no, because you know now that you really don't want to go. You're not sure when, or even how it happened, when you decided that it was okay to love Dennis. To let yourself go, just be with him and be happy. But you were kind of glad that it had. You make quick work of wiping your stomach and thighs off, then toss the tissues into the small trash can beside you, and watch as Dennis makes his way back into the room.
Again, no words are spoken between you, and he crawls under the blankets, seemingly hesitant to get too close to you. But you don't let him push away. Scooting a bit closer, you snuggle up to him and smile, looking at his face to see that he's smiling too.
Again, you're not sure how or why you decided that this is okay. But now, you're glad you did.
I am finding out that maybe I was wrong
That I've fallen down and I can't do this alone
Stay with me, this is what I need, please?
I am nothing now and it's been so long
Since I've heard the sound, the sound of my only hope
Author:
geekintehpink
Pairing/Characters: Marc Savard/Dennis Wideman.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Language, angst and SEX!
Summary: Something in Marc's head clicks.
Word Count: 2,660
Author's Notes: Thanks to
honeybee718 for being awesome and pre-reading it for me, as usual. XD
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, don't sue. Kthxbai.
“Wait!”
You hear his voice from behind you and you sigh. Just keep walking, Marc. Don't stop. You know what'll happen if you stop. It frustrates you that he's not listening. That he's seeking you out after you told him to just go away. You can't take being in close proximity with him, because he found out the hard way what happens when you are. You sigh and keep walking. You can't deal with this. You know what's best for him, and it's anyone but you. Staying the course, reminding yourself inwardly that this is what you have to do, you put your hand on the door, when you hear him again.
“Please...”
He sounds desolate. Lonely and sad. And your heart aches a little. Turning around slowly, you meet his eyes and can't help but notice that they're glistening slightly more than normal. And that kills you. You've brought him to the brink of tears, and you hate yourself for it. “Do you see what I mean?” you ask him, wishing you could tell him how venomous you actually are. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can love and care for him the way he should be cared for. “Do you?”
He takes a couple steps toward you, and it's almost like you can feel him moving the atmosphere around you. And not only are you uncomfortably horny for him, but you feel your heart start to beat in a way it's never beaten before. An erratic thump-pitter-thump-patter that only comes when Dennis is in close proximity. You should move away from him, but you can't. You don't want to. You look at him and wish that you could just make yourself stop loving him so much.
“Not here, Marc. Please come over. We can talk about this at my place...” he asks you. “I don't ask for much. But...please...” his eyes are pleading, and you feel like if you say no, he may cry. And if he cries in front of you, you won't be able to handle it.
You nod silently, glancing at his car and following him to it. You don't know what changed your mind. Don't know or really care. But the next thing you know, your duffel is in the back of Dennis' car, along with his, and you're sitting in the passenger's seat, looking out the window as the familiar route from Ristuccia to his place. Neither of you speak, you just listen to his horrible music as you pass by the exit you would have taken to get to your place. You wonder why you agreed to go in Dennis' car, because you're sure no good can come of this, but it's too late to turn back now. You can't let him down.
Still, you don't think you've ever been this scared before. You're going to be alone with him. For a long time. Not like you haven't before. But...now he knows. He knows everything. Your chest tightens a little, and suddenly you feel like you could have a panic attack. But you won't. Because it's Dennis and you know that he won't hurt you. You take a breath and look at him in the rear view mirror, catching a small glimpse of the side of his head. And you have to smile a little, because he's so damn beautiful. And you love him so damn much.
You see his place approaching, and when the car stops, you get out, momentarily ignoring the things in the trunk. Following him to the front door, you're trying as hard as you can not to look at him. Because you'd cave and kiss him. The door closes behind the two of you, and you wonder why you're not more freaked out than this. But you attribute it mostly to the fact that you haven't looked at his face yet. You don't say anything, because frankly, you're afraid of what you'd say. You're always strong. You always have good will power, but when it comes to him, it just disappears, and all you can think is that you want him in your arms forever. You decide to just let him speak, because you're not ready to yet.
“What makes you think you'll hurt me?” he asks you, and even though you're not looking, you can feel it. You can feel his eyes burning into you and while it's kind of discomforting, you kind of like it when he looks at you.
You shrug and bite your lip. “Dennis, it's what I do, okay? You think you know me so damn well. But you have no fucking clue...” you tell him. He doesn't. He doesn't know a damn thing about what happened with Ilya, or what happened even before that to make you wish that love wasn't even in the list of emotions that people felt. He has no idea about anything. And if he knew? He'd run. He'd be scared that you'd hurt him too and make you go. And you didn't know why you were so scared, because it was what you wanted anyway. You wanted him gone. But you wanted him with you. And really, it was too much to take.
“Well then tell me,” he says, taking his coat off and tossing it to the chair beside the door. “I want to know, Marc. I want to help. I want...” he pauses, trailing off and looking down at the floor.
You bite your lip and look at him. You don't know what he wants, but you want to give it to him. You want to give him what he deserves. Want to make him happy, and you fear for him if he's delusional enough to think that it's you. “You want to know?” you ask, looking up into his eyes and trying not to burst into tears at the sight of that caring, sensitive look he's shooting you. “I'm a bastard. A selfish bastard who had love once but cheated and fucked things up because I'm so fucking scared of letting myself love and be loved, that when it happens I push away. I hurt Ilya bad, but he wanted to give it another try and I wouldn't fucking let him. I don't want to be loved because I...”
He shakes his head and takes a step toward you, putting his hand on your face, and it's not until then that you notice that a tear has managed to leak out. He brushes his thumb along your face and you feel him brushing the tear away. Your eyes meet his, and you feel him gently put his forehead against yours. “Love is scary. I know...” he says simply. “But...what if...” he pauses again, and even as he's standing there, so close, you feel your resolve withering away. You can't resist him, and you know, deep down, that you don't want to. “...what if by thinking that you don't deserve to be loved, but not wanting to be loved, you're letting the one thing go that could stay for good?”
You want to laugh at how naive he is. But you look into his eyes, then feel his arms wrapping softly around your waist and you feel yourself melting, because those eyes...those damned eyes that tell everything that Dennis Wideman is feeling...they show you that he means every word he says. As frightening as that is...a little piece of you wants to find out where this could go. Small, insignificant as that piece of you may be, it's there and it's biting your brain, telling each and every nerve ending connected to just kiss him again. The way his lips feel against yours, since that first time a couple of nights ago, has become oddly necessary, to the point that you almost feel comfortable where you are right now. Almost.
You tilt your head slightly, catching his lips with yours again. But he pulls away for a second. “Promise me you're not going to leave again,” he says softly, almost sadly. And you hear the fear in his voice.
And you don't want it there anymore. “We took your car here, didn't we?” you ask him with a small smile, and you watch him smirk and nod, and cover his lips with yours again.
Only this time it's different. The other kisses you'd shared in the past had been nothing but lips against lips. But this time...this kiss...you want more. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, begging him wordlessly to let you in, and when he does, you let out a low moan. Even the feeling of his tongue against yours makes you want him. And even though your body is reeling, you wait for the alarm to go off, or a sharp noise to come into your ears and pull you out of this. But when nothing comes, instead, his tongue wraps around yours and his hands pull you back toward his bedroom door, you're left in shock. Right then, you don't even want to say no anymore.
Your hands roam to the bottom of his shirt and you find the hem, sneaking your fingers beneath it to find his stomach beneath, and his hand finds the doorknob to his bedroom, and the door is open, with you going in behind him. Reaching a foot out, you kick the door closed and break the kiss for a second, looking into his eyes and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, casting it to the floor. You've seen him totally naked before, so why is his shirt coming off so shocking to you? It's not in a bad way, so you assume it's because you haven't been this close to him, this intimately before.
You feel his hands roaming up your back, beneath your shirt, and his fingers are like little pens with ink made of fire, drawing intricate patterns along your skin. He tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you lift your arms, so he can cast it to the floor. And when he pulls you close now, you could just come undone. The feel of his skin against yours makes you feel like you've been thrown in a pit of fire, but you really, really don't want it to be doused. “Dennis you're so...”
“You too...” he says, not letting you go any farther, before he presses his lips to yours again and his hands find their way to your belt buckle. You press your hips into his, and even through his jeans, you feel that he is starting to take interest in the whole situation, too, and you pull back from the kiss to smirk at him. He reciprocates, and you wonder if, with Dennis, it's always this simple. You hope so, because if your heart is really feeling what you're pretty sure it is, this isn't the last time this will happen.
Your belt is discarded to the floor, and you feel his hands working the front of your jeans open, and you snake your hands between where his arms are tented to work at his, as well. And it's not long before you're both standing in his bedroom, in your boxers, and it becomes blatantly obvious how much both of you want each other. You smile at him and feel him tugging your forearms in the direction of the bed, and you can't help but smile as you both tumble down to it together, and he crawls over you like he's been waiting all his life to have you like this. Everything he's doing seems to be making you feel like this might be okay. This, whatever it is you're feeling for him, might be safe. Be all right to feel. You watch him take a place on his knees, in between your thighs, and he smiles at you.
You smirk, and you both shed your last layer of clothing. You watch him, hypnotized by his naked form, as he leans over you and reaches into a drawer in his bedside table, producing the necessary accessories for what you were about to do. You see that he's about to speak, and you're afraid that what he'll say will ruin the moment for you, so you speak up first.
“Fuck me, Dennis. Please...”
You see a glint in his eyes, and you smile a little more as you see him nod and lubricate his fingers. The pretense is unnecessary, as you're not exactly tight, but it's nice that he's taking the time to care, so you smile a little, but lose all brain function as you feel one of his fingers enter you. A couple seconds of that and then there's two, and then three, and after a few seconds of that, you feel ready. You smirk at him and watch as he continues to finger you, while using the other hand to wrap his cock in a condom and lube it up. You feel his fingers exit and prop your legs up on his shoulders when he guides you there. And you loosen yourself up when you feel him pressing against you, letting out a slow, throaty groan when he enters slowly.
Somehow, sex feels more intimate with Dennis, as your hips are crashing together at a slow, though amazing pace. Without being prompted, he reaches around to grasp your cock in his hand, beginning to stroke at it, matching the rhythm your hips are still keeping. You let out a moan of his name, which he matches with your own name, and you don't remember ever having it sound so sweet. Your body lets out a shudder as you feel yourself coming close, the mix of him being inside you and the feel of his hand around you driving you absolutely insane. A wave of blinding pleasure comes over you as he brushes your prostate and you find yourself unable to hold back anymore. You come with a cry of his name, and mere seconds later, you hear him give off a similar cry of your name, and you know he's there too.
After a few seconds of just laying there, you open your eyes and smile, glancing at him where he lay atop you, still trying to catch his breath, and you smooth his hair back. Slowly, he looks up at you, eyes fogged over with a post-coital haze, and you decide that seeing him like this is the sexiest you have ever seen him. And you decide, also, that you've never loved him more than this. “Dennis, I...”
He cuts you off and smiles, reaching over beside the bed for some tissues. “Me too. Very much, Marc...” he says quietly, and hands you the tissues, the smile still ever-present on his face. “Why don't you clean up, and I'll toss the condom into the trash in the bathroom...and then we can take a nap. Unless you want to go...”
You shake your head no, because you know now that you really don't want to go. You're not sure when, or even how it happened, when you decided that it was okay to love Dennis. To let yourself go, just be with him and be happy. But you were kind of glad that it had. You make quick work of wiping your stomach and thighs off, then toss the tissues into the small trash can beside you, and watch as Dennis makes his way back into the room.
Again, no words are spoken between you, and he crawls under the blankets, seemingly hesitant to get too close to you. But you don't let him push away. Scooting a bit closer, you snuggle up to him and smile, looking at his face to see that he's smiling too.
Again, you're not sure how or why you decided that this is okay. But now, you're glad you did.
I am finding out that maybe I was wrong
That I've fallen down and I can't do this alone
Stay with me, this is what I need, please?
I am nothing now and it's been so long
Since I've heard the sound, the sound of my only hope