Fic: It’s Just Another New Year’s Fic (Part 2) Various Fandoms/Pairings, FRAO, slash
Title: It’s Just Another New Year’s Fic
Author: CPWatcher
Fandom/Pairing/Characters: See list below
Rating/Category: FRAO or NC17, Incest (Numb3rs), a little bit of angst, partner betrayal (cheating)
Spoilers: None really, at least nothing that can be obviously pinpointed.
Word Count: 6906
Summary: The year in a life.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Every couple of years I write a New Years’ fic which I try to make as fandom non-specific as I can. Sort of an ‘insert your favorite pairing/character name here’ piece. I’ve tried it again this year only with a longer piece with the fandom and pairings below. Personally I think it works well in many of them, but might be a bit of a stretch in one or two, you'll have to be the judge. Hopefully, you’ll suspend your imagination enough to enjoy the tale. Also, I suck at titles. *g*
This story is told in First Person POV throughout. The players are as follows:
Fandoms and PairingsFandomI/MeHim/HeHer/SheNumb3rsDon CharlieAmitaCSI: New YorkDannyMacPeytonCSI:Las VegasWarrickGilSaraCSI: MiamiTimHoratioYlenaNCISTonyJethroHollisStargate: AtlantisJohnRodneyJennifer
~#~#~#~ Continued from Part 1 ~#~#~#~
It’s Just Another New Year’s Fic (Part 2)
Second week of September, 2008
I’m surprised at the ringing of my cell phone at midnight. But it’s his ringtone, so I answer.
“Can I come in?” he asks. I cradle the phone and let him in. “I’m sorry,” he says, and wow, that’s one for the record books. He pulls me in close and kisses me, and I can smell the clean scent of him. The sex is still hard and fast, urgent even, but he doesn’t leave right away. I chalk it up as some kind of win.
Fourth week of November, 2008 - Thanksgiving
Over the course of this entire affair he’s never spent a holiday with me, never even offered. And while our ‘affair’ has been pretty good lately, I really didn’t want to spend another holiday alone. So I went out to a bar, and met a guy. He was nice enough. And when he offered to take me home and show me a good time, I accepted. Home was actually a hotel room, he was from out of town on business, and I was just fine with that. He fucked me, twice, and in the morning I fucked him, which is something I haven’t done in almost a year. It was nice. He gave me his card, told me he’d be back in town over Christmas, if I wanted some more company.
The voice that greets me when I walk into my apartment is filled with anger. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Who the hell does he think he is, and why the fuck was he acting all crazy. I give my best flippant response. “I was out. I do have a life outside of work and being your whore.”
“Out all night being someone else’s whore instead.” he spits back.
“Look, as long as you are sticking your dick inside her, you have NO FUCKING EXCLUSIVE CLAIM to me or my ass. I can fuck whoever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want.”
He looks like he’s been slapped in the face. He says nothing as he pushes past me to leave. It’s only when he’s gone that I notice the cartons of food on the table.
But I tell myself it’s not my fault. He should have told me he wanted to spend the holiday with me. He should have told me. I only feel marginally better.
Holiday Christmas Party Fri Dec 19, 2008
I only attend the Holiday Christmas Party because I refuse to not go. Our affair may be over, since he hasn’t been to my apartment since Thanksgiving, but I’ll be damned if I let him see how much it’s hurt me.
I should have stayed home.
All the scuttlebutt, the so-called water cooler gossip, is that a certain woman is expecting a certain man to propose to her on Christmas Eve. Even before I left the Holiday party, I make my ‘sorry I won’t see you on Christmas, I’ve got other plans’ excuses to our mutual friends. No way in hell will I subject myself to that kind of ‘rub it in my face’ humiliation. No way in fucking hell.
Christmas Eve Wed Dec 24, 2008
Christmas Day Thu Dec 25, 2008
I pick up the business card four times to call up ‘Gus’ my Thanksgiving layover, but in the end, I tear the card into tiny pieces. Instead, I get shit-faced drunk in my apartment and fall asleep on the couch. I drag myself to bed at 3AM, determined to sleep straight through my hangover.
New Year’s Eve Wed Dec 31, 2008
New Year’s Day Thu Jan 1, 2009
I’ve resign myself to spend New Year’s Eve the same way I did Christmas Eve, alone, albeit without the excessive drinking, the huge fucking hangover, and a mouth that felt like mice had taken up residence on Christmas Day. So I settle in for a night of movie watching. I’d even brought the Marx Brothers movies on DVD, hoping it would take me back to happier days of New Years’ past.
It’s 11:40PM and I’ve just started ‘Duck Soup’ when my cell phone rings. It’s him. I answer and he says ‘Open the door’. I don’t know whether to be surprised, or shocked at the balls he has, wanting to get one last fuck in before the old year is over.
I’m pissed when I swing open the door. I’m about to unload on him with a verbal assault when he holds up a placating hand. “I just want to talk. Please,” he says.
He looks so earnest, so helpless, so I let him in. He doesn’t sit but he asks me to. He paces for a moment then turns to me. “I want us to get back together.”
My face must show the incredulous way that I feel, because he raises an eyebrow at me. Now I know I’ve done some pretty juvenile shit in my life, the past 11 months as proof. But there is no dick in the world so good that I’d break up a marriage or engagement to get it. No cock is worth that. Not even his.
“I’m not getting married,” he says and I just realize I had been speaking out loud.
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “Everybody knows you whisked her away Christmas Eve for a romantic weekend, and that you proposed.” I cross my arms over my chest, daring him to try and lie his way out of that.
“We did go away for the weekend. I did not propose. The fact is, I wanted to take her away so I could talk to her. I broke up with her.”
“You broke up with her?” I ask.
“Yes. I told her that I couldn’t do this anymore. I told her I have been having an affair. I told her I was in love with someone else.” His words are spoken matter-of-factly.
My voice, on the other hand, is a high pitched squeak. “You told her you were having an affair? You told her about us, about ME?” I rise from the couch quickly, hands flailing.
He steps in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. “Relax. Calm down. I didn’t tell her it was you I was having an affair with. I just told her there was someone else, someone who I fell in love with.”
“And what did she say?” I ask stupidly.
“She said she understood. Things haven't been right between us for awhile. She wanted to know if there was anyway I’d change my mind. I told her no. She wished me good luck, told me we could probably still be friends, but that she’d need some time to adjust.”
“She wished you well? She didn’t ask who you were sleeping around on her with?”
“Yes and no. She said she didn’t need to know. I admit I was surprised, but grateful. I didn’t push it.”
I look at him like one of us has lost our damn mind, and current money is riding on me. “So you and her?”
“Are over,” he says.
“And you want to get back together with me like we were before?”
“No,” he says. “I want a real relationship with you. I want … I want us to be together, a real couple. I love you.”
And it’s the third time he’s said those words - he loves me, he’s in love with me - and my head is spinning, because he loves me, he’s here and he wants a real relationship. No more being the other woman. No more nights of hot sex and watching him dress to leave minutes after taking his cock out of my ass. It sounds too good to be true.
“You love me?” I question.
“I love you," he repeats. "I have for a very long time.”
“How long?” I ask, because I have to know. “Since you’ve been fucking me? Or did you just realize it when access to my ass was taken away?” I know I’m being insolent, what with ‘gifted horse, mouth’ and all, but damn it, I need to know.
He puts his hand under my chin, lifting my face and looks me straight in the eyes. “I’ve loved you for years. Long before I ever touched you, I loved you.”
And that statement nearly knocks me off my feet. He helps me to sit down on the couch and he sits on the table in front of me, taking my hands into his. His grip is warm, strong but gentle. “There were so many reasons why a relationship between us was a very bad idea, you know each one as well as I do. I told myself this every time I saw you with another woman. Even though I knew how much you wanted me, and believe me, I wanted you just as much. But it was too great a risk. And then you kissed me, and I was helpless. I tried to resist, but fuck I had wanted you for so long. So I thought, just once, just once, and we’d both get what we wanted. But…” his voice trails off.
“But? But what?” I ask.
“I wanted more. I didn’t want to stop. But I still felt a real relationship would be too risky, end up with our lives in shambles. And you seemed okay with things as they were, at least at first.”
I nod my head, avoiding his eyes. “I was okay at first. But fuck, I was in love with you and I was the fucking other woman, and I wanted more too.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I tried to stay away, tried to go back to the way we were before, before we got involved. But I couldn’t.”
“So it was easier to stay with her and have me on the side.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Yet I’m still surprised at his response.
“No, it wasn’t easier. I tried breaking it off with her a few times, but something always came up, she always needed me, and I couldn’t…”
Like I said, he’s an honorable man. “What made you break it off this time?”
“You slept with another man,” he says quietly. He continues before I can open my mouth to reply that he slept with her all the damn time. “I could have dealt with you sleeping with a woman, fucking a woman. But the thought of some other man having his filthy hands on you, the thought of him taking what’s mine…”
And there it was - the same jealous, possessive tone he had back in November. It’s shocking how warm that tone makes me feel inside. I know he’s said the words, but this - his voice, his eyes, the way his hands tighten around my fingers like he doesn’t ever want to let me go - this makes it real.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”
“Okay. Let’s give this another try. Let’s do it right.” I watch as his eyes light up and a grin splits his face. The grin suddenly fades slightly. “You know, we still can’t tell anyone, for all the same reasons as before. This has still got to be secret.”
“I know. I don’t care. As long as you and I know, I’m good with secret.”
He leans in and kisses me softly. “I love you.”
I kiss him gently in return and whisper across his lips, “I love you, too. Make love to me. Please. I’ve missed you so much.”
He kisses me deeply then, pulling back to release my mouth only when there is no breath left to share between us. He rises from the table and holds out a hand for me. Standing, I take his hand and let him lead us to my bedroom. Once inside, I begin to undress, but his hands stop me. He says, “Please, I want to do that. I’ve wanted to do it since the first time.” I nod my assent and let my hands fall to my sides. He kisses me lightly on the mouth, and then trails kisses down my neck as he slides his hands under my t-shirt. “Happy New Year,” he whispers into my ear as he unbuckles my belt. A quick glance at my clock shows me that it’s 12:17 AM.
“Happy New Year,” I reply just before he pulls the t-shirt over my head. It takes long moments before we both are undressed, as every time skin is revealed, he licks and sucks, kisses and gently bites. It is a most exquisite torture. Of course I return the favor.
By the time we make it to the bed, we are both hard, and panting with need. But he takes a fortifying breath and calmly begins another full exploration of my body with his hands, his mouth and his tongue. I am a quivering, whimpering mess when he finally starts to stretch me open. His slide into me is slow and deep. I am poised on the edge, waiting for his first hard thrust, but it never comes. Instead he fucks me languidly, so achingly slowly, that I feel like I could die from the sheer intensity of it. And then it hits me, he’s not fucking me he’s making love to me. I find myself shaking beneath him with every heated stroke. And this feels so different than anything we’ve ever done before. I feel myself coming apart and I can’t hold on any longer. I gasp his name as my climax rolls over me like breaking waves. He buries his face in my neck, pressing in so deep, and then I feel him come, the warmth of his release heating everything deep inside me. That’s when I realize he never put on a condom. And I clench around him, because fuck, it’s him, inside me - filling me, marking me, owning me, loving me.
After a quick wipe down, we snuggle together and drift off to an exhaustive sleep entwined in each other’s arm, the first of many nights to come in this Happy New Year.
~#~#~#~ END ~#~#~#~
Author: CPWatcher
Fandom/Pairing/Characters: See list below
Rating/Category: FRAO or NC17, Incest (Numb3rs), a little bit of angst, partner betrayal (cheating)
Spoilers: None really, at least nothing that can be obviously pinpointed.
Word Count: 6906
Summary: The year in a life.
Author's Notes/Warnings: Every couple of years I write a New Years’ fic which I try to make as fandom non-specific as I can. Sort of an ‘insert your favorite pairing/character name here’ piece. I’ve tried it again this year only with a longer piece with the fandom and pairings below. Personally I think it works well in many of them, but might be a bit of a stretch in one or two, you'll have to be the judge. Hopefully, you’ll suspend your imagination enough to enjoy the tale. Also, I suck at titles. *g*
This story is told in First Person POV throughout. The players are as follows:
Fandoms and PairingsFandomI/MeHim/HeHer/SheNumb3rsDon CharlieAmitaCSI: New YorkDannyMacPeytonCSI:Las VegasWarrickGilSaraCSI: MiamiTimHoratioYlenaNCISTonyJethroHollisStargate: AtlantisJohnRodneyJennifer
~#~#~#~ Continued from Part 1 ~#~#~#~
It’s Just Another New Year’s Fic (Part 2)
Second week of September, 2008
I’m surprised at the ringing of my cell phone at midnight. But it’s his ringtone, so I answer.
“Can I come in?” he asks. I cradle the phone and let him in. “I’m sorry,” he says, and wow, that’s one for the record books. He pulls me in close and kisses me, and I can smell the clean scent of him. The sex is still hard and fast, urgent even, but he doesn’t leave right away. I chalk it up as some kind of win.
Fourth week of November, 2008 - Thanksgiving
Over the course of this entire affair he’s never spent a holiday with me, never even offered. And while our ‘affair’ has been pretty good lately, I really didn’t want to spend another holiday alone. So I went out to a bar, and met a guy. He was nice enough. And when he offered to take me home and show me a good time, I accepted. Home was actually a hotel room, he was from out of town on business, and I was just fine with that. He fucked me, twice, and in the morning I fucked him, which is something I haven’t done in almost a year. It was nice. He gave me his card, told me he’d be back in town over Christmas, if I wanted some more company.
The voice that greets me when I walk into my apartment is filled with anger. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Who the hell does he think he is, and why the fuck was he acting all crazy. I give my best flippant response. “I was out. I do have a life outside of work and being your whore.”
“Out all night being someone else’s whore instead.” he spits back.
“Look, as long as you are sticking your dick inside her, you have NO FUCKING EXCLUSIVE CLAIM to me or my ass. I can fuck whoever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want.”
He looks like he’s been slapped in the face. He says nothing as he pushes past me to leave. It’s only when he’s gone that I notice the cartons of food on the table.
But I tell myself it’s not my fault. He should have told me he wanted to spend the holiday with me. He should have told me. I only feel marginally better.
Holiday Christmas Party Fri Dec 19, 2008
I only attend the Holiday Christmas Party because I refuse to not go. Our affair may be over, since he hasn’t been to my apartment since Thanksgiving, but I’ll be damned if I let him see how much it’s hurt me.
I should have stayed home.
All the scuttlebutt, the so-called water cooler gossip, is that a certain woman is expecting a certain man to propose to her on Christmas Eve. Even before I left the Holiday party, I make my ‘sorry I won’t see you on Christmas, I’ve got other plans’ excuses to our mutual friends. No way in hell will I subject myself to that kind of ‘rub it in my face’ humiliation. No way in fucking hell.
Christmas Eve Wed Dec 24, 2008
Christmas Day Thu Dec 25, 2008
I pick up the business card four times to call up ‘Gus’ my Thanksgiving layover, but in the end, I tear the card into tiny pieces. Instead, I get shit-faced drunk in my apartment and fall asleep on the couch. I drag myself to bed at 3AM, determined to sleep straight through my hangover.
New Year’s Eve Wed Dec 31, 2008
New Year’s Day Thu Jan 1, 2009
I’ve resign myself to spend New Year’s Eve the same way I did Christmas Eve, alone, albeit without the excessive drinking, the huge fucking hangover, and a mouth that felt like mice had taken up residence on Christmas Day. So I settle in for a night of movie watching. I’d even brought the Marx Brothers movies on DVD, hoping it would take me back to happier days of New Years’ past.
It’s 11:40PM and I’ve just started ‘Duck Soup’ when my cell phone rings. It’s him. I answer and he says ‘Open the door’. I don’t know whether to be surprised, or shocked at the balls he has, wanting to get one last fuck in before the old year is over.
I’m pissed when I swing open the door. I’m about to unload on him with a verbal assault when he holds up a placating hand. “I just want to talk. Please,” he says.
He looks so earnest, so helpless, so I let him in. He doesn’t sit but he asks me to. He paces for a moment then turns to me. “I want us to get back together.”
My face must show the incredulous way that I feel, because he raises an eyebrow at me. Now I know I’ve done some pretty juvenile shit in my life, the past 11 months as proof. But there is no dick in the world so good that I’d break up a marriage or engagement to get it. No cock is worth that. Not even his.
“I’m not getting married,” he says and I just realize I had been speaking out loud.
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “Everybody knows you whisked her away Christmas Eve for a romantic weekend, and that you proposed.” I cross my arms over my chest, daring him to try and lie his way out of that.
“We did go away for the weekend. I did not propose. The fact is, I wanted to take her away so I could talk to her. I broke up with her.”
“You broke up with her?” I ask.
“Yes. I told her that I couldn’t do this anymore. I told her I have been having an affair. I told her I was in love with someone else.” His words are spoken matter-of-factly.
My voice, on the other hand, is a high pitched squeak. “You told her you were having an affair? You told her about us, about ME?” I rise from the couch quickly, hands flailing.
He steps in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. “Relax. Calm down. I didn’t tell her it was you I was having an affair with. I just told her there was someone else, someone who I fell in love with.”
“And what did she say?” I ask stupidly.
“She said she understood. Things haven't been right between us for awhile. She wanted to know if there was anyway I’d change my mind. I told her no. She wished me good luck, told me we could probably still be friends, but that she’d need some time to adjust.”
“She wished you well? She didn’t ask who you were sleeping around on her with?”
“Yes and no. She said she didn’t need to know. I admit I was surprised, but grateful. I didn’t push it.”
I look at him like one of us has lost our damn mind, and current money is riding on me. “So you and her?”
“Are over,” he says.
“And you want to get back together with me like we were before?”
“No,” he says. “I want a real relationship with you. I want … I want us to be together, a real couple. I love you.”
And it’s the third time he’s said those words - he loves me, he’s in love with me - and my head is spinning, because he loves me, he’s here and he wants a real relationship. No more being the other woman. No more nights of hot sex and watching him dress to leave minutes after taking his cock out of my ass. It sounds too good to be true.
“You love me?” I question.
“I love you," he repeats. "I have for a very long time.”
“How long?” I ask, because I have to know. “Since you’ve been fucking me? Or did you just realize it when access to my ass was taken away?” I know I’m being insolent, what with ‘gifted horse, mouth’ and all, but damn it, I need to know.
He puts his hand under my chin, lifting my face and looks me straight in the eyes. “I’ve loved you for years. Long before I ever touched you, I loved you.”
And that statement nearly knocks me off my feet. He helps me to sit down on the couch and he sits on the table in front of me, taking my hands into his. His grip is warm, strong but gentle. “There were so many reasons why a relationship between us was a very bad idea, you know each one as well as I do. I told myself this every time I saw you with another woman. Even though I knew how much you wanted me, and believe me, I wanted you just as much. But it was too great a risk. And then you kissed me, and I was helpless. I tried to resist, but fuck I had wanted you for so long. So I thought, just once, just once, and we’d both get what we wanted. But…” his voice trails off.
“But? But what?” I ask.
“I wanted more. I didn’t want to stop. But I still felt a real relationship would be too risky, end up with our lives in shambles. And you seemed okay with things as they were, at least at first.”
I nod my head, avoiding his eyes. “I was okay at first. But fuck, I was in love with you and I was the fucking other woman, and I wanted more too.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I tried to stay away, tried to go back to the way we were before, before we got involved. But I couldn’t.”
“So it was easier to stay with her and have me on the side.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Yet I’m still surprised at his response.
“No, it wasn’t easier. I tried breaking it off with her a few times, but something always came up, she always needed me, and I couldn’t…”
Like I said, he’s an honorable man. “What made you break it off this time?”
“You slept with another man,” he says quietly. He continues before I can open my mouth to reply that he slept with her all the damn time. “I could have dealt with you sleeping with a woman, fucking a woman. But the thought of some other man having his filthy hands on you, the thought of him taking what’s mine…”
And there it was - the same jealous, possessive tone he had back in November. It’s shocking how warm that tone makes me feel inside. I know he’s said the words, but this - his voice, his eyes, the way his hands tighten around my fingers like he doesn’t ever want to let me go - this makes it real.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”
“Okay. Let’s give this another try. Let’s do it right.” I watch as his eyes light up and a grin splits his face. The grin suddenly fades slightly. “You know, we still can’t tell anyone, for all the same reasons as before. This has still got to be secret.”
“I know. I don’t care. As long as you and I know, I’m good with secret.”
He leans in and kisses me softly. “I love you.”
I kiss him gently in return and whisper across his lips, “I love you, too. Make love to me. Please. I’ve missed you so much.”
He kisses me deeply then, pulling back to release my mouth only when there is no breath left to share between us. He rises from the table and holds out a hand for me. Standing, I take his hand and let him lead us to my bedroom. Once inside, I begin to undress, but his hands stop me. He says, “Please, I want to do that. I’ve wanted to do it since the first time.” I nod my assent and let my hands fall to my sides. He kisses me lightly on the mouth, and then trails kisses down my neck as he slides his hands under my t-shirt. “Happy New Year,” he whispers into my ear as he unbuckles my belt. A quick glance at my clock shows me that it’s 12:17 AM.
“Happy New Year,” I reply just before he pulls the t-shirt over my head. It takes long moments before we both are undressed, as every time skin is revealed, he licks and sucks, kisses and gently bites. It is a most exquisite torture. Of course I return the favor.
By the time we make it to the bed, we are both hard, and panting with need. But he takes a fortifying breath and calmly begins another full exploration of my body with his hands, his mouth and his tongue. I am a quivering, whimpering mess when he finally starts to stretch me open. His slide into me is slow and deep. I am poised on the edge, waiting for his first hard thrust, but it never comes. Instead he fucks me languidly, so achingly slowly, that I feel like I could die from the sheer intensity of it. And then it hits me, he’s not fucking me he’s making love to me. I find myself shaking beneath him with every heated stroke. And this feels so different than anything we’ve ever done before. I feel myself coming apart and I can’t hold on any longer. I gasp his name as my climax rolls over me like breaking waves. He buries his face in my neck, pressing in so deep, and then I feel him come, the warmth of his release heating everything deep inside me. That’s when I realize he never put on a condom. And I clench around him, because fuck, it’s him, inside me - filling me, marking me, owning me, loving me.
After a quick wipe down, we snuggle together and drift off to an exhaustive sleep entwined in each other’s arm, the first of many nights to come in this Happy New Year.
~#~#~#~ END ~#~#~#~