Stranger In My Bed

He didn't know why he did this. Let it happen hell, seek it out.

He allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed, a nameless weight settling on top of him, his mind just foggy enough that everything was covered in a haze. Hands ran up and down his chest, attempting to be romantic when neither really wanted it.

"Get on with it." He demanded, breath hitching a bit when those hands complied and dove under his shirt to twist his nipples. That was more like it. He didn't want sweet or caring, just that rush of physical need and heat. His own hands pulled at the other's shirt, a silent order. He really should have remembered his name, but then it didn't really matter, a different one each time, and most of them didn't care what he was screaming in the end as long as they got to come. The shirts fell to the floor, one following the other swiftly and he groaned at the feel of skin on skin. Long black hair fell onto his chest as a mouth descended, licking its way down to his waist, stopping to torture his nipples and pull on them with cruel teeth. Blue eyes were shadowed as he moved back up to claim his mouth while agile hands slipped a button through its hole and dragged the zipper down. His mouth was harsh and demanding, like all their kisses that night had been. His own mouth was plundered again and again; He had no interest in resisting. His hips lifted to allow the black denim to be removed, chased by red boxers. The cold air of the shabby motel room hit him then, a shiver running through him before the other man laid back down on him, rocking his hips into his arousal, sending sparks through his vision.

His own hands gripped still clothed hips, pulling them together and pleading for more while his mouth was occupied. Their kiss broke and his brown curls hit the pillow as his back arched and green eyes closed at the feel of teeth clamping down on his neck and a hand around his erection. His moans set the pace, speeding up with the hand that pumped his length, fingers lingering on the slit and nails scarping the veins along the sides.

"I want you. Now!" He ground out, hips still thrusting upwards and hands tugging at belt loops, encouraging the other to disrobe as well. The coldness returned for a few seconds as he watched the other slide down his jeans and boxers. Then the cold was chased away as he returned to the bed, settling between spread legs and tensed thighs. The fervent kiss resumed, tongue thrusting in his mouth, teasing him with what was to come. A hand groped for the bottle and plastic that had been laid there earlier. A twist of the lid and he watched the other man coat his hand with the gel, then he saw nothing but felt the fingers inside him, stretching and questing and reaching. He gave his first scream to the hooked fingers that had found their prize, white filling his vision when the fingers continued their assault. He was almost disappointed when they retreated, only to be placated with the hard length at his entrance, pressing in slowly. His arms wrapped around his neck, eyes staring into the other's as he slid in, inch by inch. The tension built while he held still to allow the man beneath him to adjust, breath coming in pants and gasps, sweat gathering between them. Green eyes covered themselves and he pulled out, thrusting back in halfway through. Again and again his body was pushed into the sheets, legs hooked around a stranger's waist as he moved inside him, hips tilting upwards to match the thrusts. What breath he had left was stolen with another kiss, more passionate than before and somehow questioning. He didn't know what answer to give, just allowed his tongue to slide against the other's as their bodies moved together. As the final seconds neared, they broke apart, blue meeting green yet again, both hooded and cast into black, neither sure what they were looking for in that gaze.

He screamed as he allowed the man without a name to come inside him, heat flowing into him as he tightened around the length, his body spasming and his vision going white as the tension released.

Smoke curled through the air, a silence laid heavy over them, one curled within the sheets and the other on the bed's edge. He was ready to gather his clothes and leave the other, ready for this encounter to be over when a voice, deep and slow, stopped him.5/4/09

"You never told me your name."

He sighed, hand running through his curls before he answered.

"Doesn't matter now."

"To you or to me?" A head tilted towards him, barely, enough to watch out of the corner of an eye still blackened.

"Either of us."

"You just want to walk away?"

"That was the plan." He slid into his boxers and jeans, hands just zipping them back up when he was stopped again by that voice.

"Vincent."

He returned the offer with silence, tugging the shirt over his head and moving to the door for his shoes.

"Supposed to be your turn now."

"I said it doesn't matter." He heard the sharp rustle of jeans thrown back on and before he could straighten back up, he was shoved against the door and a hand on his chin forced him to look into his - Vincent‘s eyes.

"You're not some whore from the street, so you could at least give me your name." He tried to turn away, but the hand only gripped harder, obviously not caring what bruises it caused.

"Why do you want to know so bad?" The only question worth answering.

"Because I don't fuck strangers."

"You already did."

"Doesn't have to stay that way if you give me your name." He tried to avoid those smoldering blues, caught unawares of how badly he wanted to break all the rules he'd made. A muscled arm came to rest against the door, leaving him trapped between a body that still shone with sweat and a door chilled by the late fall air. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. Had to, or all those precious rules would crumble around him.

“Please.” A whisper in the dark, hardly broken by the streetlight’s sickly yellow.

He couldn’t. It didn’t matter if he felt like he owed it to him when he saw the pain flooding those blues.

“I can’t.” A shudder and sigh, failed attempts at relieving the tension in his shoulders, creeping down his spine.

“Why?” That voice, so naive and earnest. Vincent’s body pressed closer, warming his chest save for the iced panic in his lungs and breath. So easy to use the other’s name now, far too easy.

“This isn’t supposed to be personal.” He could feel his voice on the edge of breaking. The need to run was becoming overwhelming, and though the other was surely stronger, he was nearly ready to take his chances at forcing his way out the door, shoes and jacket be damned.

“Then what? What is this supposed to be?” That deep voice rose with every word, until it seemed to shake his bones. A sun darkened hand crashed into the door at the side of his face, freeing him to turn away. He lifted his eyes instead.

“Retribution.” He almost laughed at the shock on the other’s face. Arms went slack, though they did not abandon their posts. A wry smile edged across his face. Abruptly, the shock collapsed into anger, arms once again slamming into the door behind him.

“That’s the sickest thing I’ve ever heard of! How many have you used like this?” Now it was his turn to widen eyes in surprise. Used?

“You think you’re the only one suffering here? Did you ever wonder how it felt for the others to be strung along to fulfill this masochistic need of yours?”

“None of the others had a problem with it!” He flung the accusations back, not daring to think of the truth they might hold.

“I’m not going to let you use me! We both deserve better than that.” Vincent’s last words were muffled into another bruising kiss as his head was shoved harshly against the door with its force. He didn’t stop to wonder at the logic of the other’s actions, just poured all the frustration and rage he felt into their kiss, drawing Vincent’s lip into his mouth only to draw blood, receiving an equal wound when his mouth was abandoned and teeth sunk into his neck. He threw his head back, hitting the same spot and surely worsening the bruise there, mouth gasping for air as a strong thigh forced it’s way between his legs, solidly pinning him to the door. As quickly as appeared, Vincent’s aggressions faded as he slumped against the other man, though still holding him captive within his arms. Against his will, he wrapped his arms around his former attacker’s waist when he felt a rough tongue lap at the few drops of blood spilt. He turned his head to bury his mouth in silken black hair, whispering a word into the other man’s ear.

“Paul.”