Anguish

I’m dreamin’ about her because she ripped into my heart earlier and tugged at it.

Fuck.

I shove the door open and walk down the hall, angry with myself, and her. Especially her. If she would just do her job as a nanny, and stay out of my shit, we wouldn’t continue to have these problems. I pass Diesel’s room and like always, I stop. Fuck, that’s another thing I can’t deal with. He smiled at me the other day, just looked at me and smiled. Like he knew. It fuckin’ burned somewhere deep down in my soul.

Now, looking at him, my fingers ache to touch the skin I know is smooth. But I can’t. I’m no good for him. He doesn’t need me in his life; he needs Santana and Jaylah and Ash, who love him. I can’t love him, because I can never ever be what he needs.

I’m just like my father.

~*~*~*~

JAYLAH

I stumble out of my room, busting to pee. It’s dark, I’m half-asleep, and not paying attention. That’s why I crash into the hard, partially-naked wall of muscle in the hall. I make a loud oofing sound and step back, confused. I realize after a few moments it’s Mack. He’s standing in the hall, not far from Diesel’s room. He’s still, barely making a sound, and even when I run into him, he doesn’t speak or move.

Something is wrong.

I feel it the moment I realize my hands are on his chest and he’s solid as a rock. He’s hurting, it’s radiating off him, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s standing outside of Diesel’s room while he’s doing it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should just walk away, or if I should help him. My heart wins the battle, and I run my hands down his chest. There’s nothing I can say to him right now to make him feel better, but I can let him know I’m here, even if he doesn’t want it.

I slide my fingers over his bare chest and when I reach his arm, I slide them down further until I find his hand. My fingers curl in his, and surprisingly, he lets me do this without pulling away. I twist my body so I’m standing in front of him, and I take a step closer. He’s breathing quite heavily. Whatever is going down in his head is eating at him, and I hate that he’s feeling like that.

We stand like that for a solid five or more minutes. I decide he probably wants his own space now, and go to step back. He stops me by curling his fingers around mine. I’m confused. In the dead of the night, it almost feels as if we’re . . . connecting. I don’t want to pull away, but I don’t want to push, either. If he wants me here, I’ll stay. If he wants more, I’ll give it.

But he has to make the first move.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice utterly broken, “go.”

Oh God, I’m going to cry. The pain in his voice splits me in two. I squeeze his fingers, letting him know I’m here. His face comes down, and I can feel his breath against my cheek. My body is still, stiff, and a little scared. I don’t know what he wants, but whatever it is, I’m going to give it all. His lips graze my jaw and I shiver. My body eases and I step a little closer to him.

He’s still got my hand locked tightly in his, like it’s his lifeline.

His mouth moves slowly over my skin, scattering soft kisses up my jaw, over my cheeks, and then finally, he finds my mouth.

The kiss he gives me is so very different to the one I experienced from him the other night. This one is pure, raw emotion. It’s soft, it’s deep and it’s fucking beautiful. My knees wobble, and his hand finally leaves mine and goes around my hip, pulling me close so our bodies are molded together.

Wordlessly, his fingers explode my body at the same time as his mouth devours mine. My lips burn by the time we part, swollen and full. His fingers are on my hips, and slowly he takes the hem of my silky nightie and he lifts it up. I let him. It slips over my head and drops to the floor in a pile beside us. His fingers continue with their torture, running up my skin with silky softness. When he reaches my bare breasts, he draws in a gasp of air and cups them.

I moan. The first sound for long, long minutes.

He rolls my nipples in his fingers so skillfully, sending burning lust through my limbs. I whimper, pressing myself to him, no longer caring about how that might look. I clench my thighs together when he dips his head and captures my nipple between his teeth. I arch into him, crying out. God, that feels so good, so fucking good.

He snakes a hand around to my hip and pulls me into him, pressing my pussy against his boxers, and there I can feel how hard he is. Oh, man. Oh, yes. Using his fingers, he rotates my hips against his while he sucks my nipples. I cry out, sure I could orgasm just like this. My fingers go up, finding his hair. I run my fingers through the silky strands. He’s got it down, and it’s so fucking amazing.

He lets my hips go, moving around to my panties. He slides them down and I kick them off. Then his fingers are there, stroking me, making my body come alive with want. Then, before I know what’s happening, he lifts me and my legs go around his hips. He presses me to the wall, one hand on my ass, one hand still stroking my clit.

“Mack,” I breathe.

His fingers slowly stop their torture and he puts both hands on my ass, rubbing my pussy up and down his firm, muscled belly. Shit, that’s hot. I can feel how wet I am, and when he makes a growling sound, I know he can feel it too. He rubs me against him until I’m close to the edge, ready for him, ready for everything he wants to give me. His hand goes down between us and he shoves his boxers down.

Then, he’s inside me.