Rating: NC-17
Original Date of Completion: May 2003
Disclaimer: I don't own Brock Lesnar. This is all fiction, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. That means it's fiction and you can't sue me.
******************
Summer days, drifting away, to oh, those summer nights. That about sums up my summer. It doesn't feel like I've seen a single summer day. All of them have just drifted into summer nights, while I sit cooped up inside wearing hideous blue pajamas. My own fault though. It was my idea to take the internship at the hospital. And I knew full well going in that it meant giving up a lot of my free time. At the time though, I didn't really realize how much. I was too excited about the opportunity to really stop and think about it in depth. And at the time, I guess it didn't matter. It wasn't like I had better things to do with my summer. Most everyone was going home for the summer, so I was all but alone hanging around school. I could've hung out with Chloe, I suppose; frankly though I'd rather get bled and thrown up on, and get a million paper cuts. Oh wait, that's what I did all summer long anyway.
I guess I could've made things more exciting for me. It wasn't like there was NO ONE around but Chloe. Some of the guys on the Lacrosse team lived here during the summer, and I was friends with most of them. The girls volleyball team lived in a place just across the street from my new apartment, and they loved me. And then of course, there was the wrestling team, that lived in the same building as I now did. I was only "friends" with one of them now, the captain, Brock Lesnar. He was hardly a guy I'd call up and hang out with at random though. Let alone do anything else at random....
I'd barely even spoken to the guy the entire time I'd been at this University. It's not like I didn't know who he was, everyone here knows Brock Lesnar. We even had a couple of classes together, and worked on a couple of projects together. We just weren't what you would call friends. Me and the people I associated with were just not the type of people a guy like Brock was friends with. The wrestlers were the perfect model students, while the hockey players were....well, not. I wasn't like the rest of them, and this entire school knew that, but I was still associated with them. Hell, I was engaged (I think, anyway) to their starting goaltender. Yeah, he wasn't like them either, but still. Guilt by association. That's not to say Brock and I couldn't have been friends had we wanted to, we got along great. It's just saying that with our different backgrounds, we didn't even try.
That changed yesterday. I guess. I'd like to assume I'm friends with the guy, since I did just spend the night with him. But really, I don't know. It all seems strange now, looking back at it all. It started in complete innocence, in all honesty. I had just been sitting there in my new apartment, amongst unpacked boxes, enjoying my first day off in two weeks. Part of the reason I'd stayed around school for the summer was to get the apartment ready before Curtis and Kirk came home from summer. The hospital worked my fingers to the bone, days off were like a shooting star they occurred so infrequently. Yesterday was the first day in what felt like a decade I got to sleep in, stay in my boxers all day, eat Apple Jacks out of a glass, and watch cartoons. That was all I wanted to do yesterday. Well that, and unpacking the kitchen things so I could at least make macaroni and cheese. I never got that far though before Brock interrupted, inadvertently or not.
Like I said, he lived downstairs from me here, in an apartment with some of his teammates. The main reason I'd chose this apartment complex was because the wrestlers lived here, and they weren't the least bit rowdy. I'd spent a year in the dorms with the hockey AND football players, I wanted peace and quiet. The wrestlers provided me with that. Though not yesterday. They decided to have a little party yesterday. Party for the wrestlers meaning barbeque, with no alcohol to be seen. It was a refreshing site to see, actually. Not just because it was a kegless party, and I forgot those existed, but because most of the wrestling team was roaming around the courtyard with no shirts on. And when I haven't seen my boyfriend in close to three months, the simple sight of flesh was enough to get me going. I think that might be when the trouble started. Or maybe it started when Curtis left to begin with. Or maybe I'm just making excuses to feel like less of a whore. I really don't know anymore.
The only thing I know for sure is how it happened. A couple of the wrestlers, Charlie and Shelton, came up and invited me down. At first I said no, I had a lot of unpacking to do and, really just wanted to relax on my one day off for the year. But then they said they needed another player for their horseshoe tournament. See, back home in Flin Flon, I was a bit of a 'shoe shark. We played horseshoes every year at my family reunion, so I'd gotten to be pretty good. I was proud of that too, so I never turned down a game. So I went downstairs to join them, and wound up paired with Charlie. He sucked, but I was able to carry him for a couple of games. Then all hell broke loose. Throwing the shoe for my 8th consecutive ringer, it slipped from my hand and thwack, hit Brock right in the forehead. It wasn’t my fault, I'm NOT that reckless with horseshoes. One of the guys had gotten grease on it, when I went to throw it, I caught the grease spot, and thwack. He fell straight to the ground as it hit him, as can be expected. But the scary part is, he never lost consciousness. He was injured though, a nice bloody gash right above his left eye. Luckily for me (and him), I had actually learned some things at the hospital, and knew how to take care of it.
Only one problem with that, my first aid kit was lost in a box somewhere up in my apartment. Knowing that, I explained the situation to them, and offered to drive Brock to the hospital. I hurt him, it should be my car that has the possibility to get bloody. But in typical tough guy fashion, he refused the hospital, and told me of his first aid kit upstairs. Charlie offered to run up and get it, but I said no; I would need water and better light anyway. So, using Charlie's shirt to stop the blood, we went upstairs to Brock's apartment. Maybe THAT is when the trouble started. Actually, no maybe about it. That IS when the trouble started. Looking back now I can see that plain is day. Where the fuck was that sight yesterday when I could've used it?
~ ~ ~
"Ow!" He shouted, slapping my hand away from the gash above his left eye. "That stuff burns,"
I bit my lip and sighed, dabbing away the peroxide from his forehead with a dry towel. He was worse than the kids I worked with at the hospital. From the first second I'd went to work on cleaning the cut up, he did nothing but complain that it hurt. It wasn't like I didn't already feel bad for hitting him with a horseshoe and busting him open; I felt like dirt, not to mention like a complete freak. But then he had to go and complain that the fixing hurt. It had to hurt, there was no fixing a cut like that without pain. But he shouldn't have to be going through any of it. I should've just stayed up in my apartment, far far away from any horseshoes. When I was done here, I was going to go crawl into a dark hole somewhere until the embarrassment and guilt I felt for all of this went away. That meant I could probably come out around September.
"Sorry," I mumbled, dabbing a q-tip in peroxide then brushing it against the cut. "They never taught me the painless ways. Those are reserved for rich people who pay in cash,"
He laughed slightly, looking up at me with a warm smile. I flashed a smile in return, then went back to the task at hand. It was a pretty big cut, but it wasn't bad enough for stitches. Just some gauze and tape, and all would be good again. Well, as good as good could get saying as I just hit the guy with a horseshoe. I was going to strongly advise he see a real doctor after all of this; it's not that I didn't trust my repair job, just that I couldn't be sure if I'd done any other damage, like a concussion or something. He seemed to be fine, but you never know. My medical training doesn't go beyond much more than this.
"So tell me, doc. Am I going to make it?" He asked, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Well..." I laughed, pressing the gauze to his forehead. "It looks good so far. But the next 48 hours will be very important,"
"Guess I shouldn't be alone for that time then, huh?"
"Nah," I replied, fixing the last piece of tape to the gauze. "You should be okay by yourself,"
"What if I don't want to be by myself?" He asked, getting to his feet, and leaning back against the counter.
"Well, I'm sure..."
That was the last word I spoke before his lips silenced me. I gasped into the kiss, half from shock, half from the feeling. It seemed like months since I'd been kissed, and it had been, since Curtis had gone home from the summer. I hadn't really thought about it all summer, but now that Brock's lips were on mine, I was remembering how much I missed being kissed. As his lips brushed softly against mine, feelings long dormant awoke, sending shockwaves down my spine. I was lost quickly in the sensations, melting into the kiss and slipping my arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around my back, pulling me toward him with a slight growl. Instantly his hands snuck beneath my shirt, pushing the fabric hurriedly up my skin, bringing goosebumps to my flesh. His touch felt so different from any I could remember. His hands were rough, large and strong, awakening my skin with their velvety touch. By the time his fingers caressed against my neck, following my shirt over my head, my entire body felt like it was on fire, burning with need, yearning with desire for him. Objections I expected from my mind were nowhere to be found. Instead, all that was present was a tiny voice, urging me to go on. And as I stepped back, taking all of Brock in; rippling muscles, sweat slicked chest heaving, prominent bulge framed behind his swim trunks, I knew there was no disobeying the voice in this situation.
Wasting no time, I dropped to my knees in front of him, quickly disposing of his swim trunks. I grinned as I saw he wore no underwear, his hard cock jutting out confidently beneath a small patch of blonde hair. He smiled sheepishly down at me as I wrapped my hand around him, slowly stroking down the length. I kept my eyes locked on him as I continued to stroke him, looking for any signs of objection. No signs presented themselves, so I kept stroking slowly, coating his dick with his precum. His eyes fluttered shut, soft growls escaping his lips as I lightly squeezed his cock. The soft noises sprang memories to mind that I'd long since forgotten; of the ways it was before Curtis, so raw, so primal, so untamed. I left my eyes on him as I continued stroking, squeezing harder, increasing the volume of his growls. As I tightened my grip hard around him, his eyes shot open and locked onto mine. I could see lust plainly in them, but a primal hunger burning deep in the blue. I grinned at the recognition of that look, the same look I'd seen so many times in Kirk's eyes, and tightened my grip around him. He growled again, bringing his hands to my shoulders and digging his nails lightly into the flesh. I hissed at the feeling, but refused to loosen my grip, garnering a soft snicker from him.
"I had a feeling," He whispered, tracing his finger up and down my neck.
"Feeling of what?" I asked, touching my tongue to the tip of his cock.
He whimpered, and lightly thrust his hips forward. "That you would like it rough," His voice cracked as I wrapped my lips around him.
I giggled softly at that sound, slowly pulling my lips from him and staring up with a smile. "You've figured me out," I whispered, stroking loosely down his shaft. "Whatever must you think of me now..."
"Well," He stared down at me with a grin, wrapping his hand around mine, putting a halt to my stroking. "I'm thinking you're just the kind of guy I want,"
I smirked up at him. "What else are you thinking?"
He grinned, and growled softly as I again squeezed his cock. "Thinking how I want to push you up against that wall over there and fuck you 'til you scream,"
In that very place in time, with every memory that had coursed through my mind since he'd kissed me, that was all I needed to hear. I hopped quickly to my feet, tossing my arms around his neck and pulling him to me for a rough, claiming kiss. His hands traveled quickly to my shorts, yanking at them, popping the button from the fabric. He snickered into the kiss as the button collided against the metal chair behind us with a soft 'ping' sound. I had no chance to react as his hands slipped into my underwear, roughly gripping my cock. I whimpered, burying my face in his neck as he began to jerk me, his rough, calloused hands tugging harshly on my cock. As he began to squeeze around me like I'd done to him, I bit down on his shoulder, earning me a boisterous growl for my troubles.
I snickered against his skin, soothing the bitten flesh with my tongue as he pushed my boxers from my hips. I had no sooner stepped out of them when I felt his arms wrap around my waist, and felt his cock grinding against my stomach. I moaned from the feeling, grinding my own cock against his hip, while my hand nestled in his hair, pushing his lips back onto mine. This kiss was rougher than the first, teeth clashing with lips, biting, scraping against the soft flesh. He bit down harshly on my bottom lip, squeezing a soft moan from me as I pulled away. Running my tongue along the inside of my lip, I tasted a faint bit of copper, a bitter, yet satisfying taste playing at my tastebuds. This was the way things were before, rough, untamed, wild. And that was the way I wanted them right now. I wanted to be reckless, uncontrolled, animalistic; all of things I hadn't seen in quite some time. Brock was the one to give me those things, and that was all that registered in my mind.
"There's the wall," I whispered into his ear, biting below it at the finish of my statement. "Put it to use,"
He nodded with a grin, slipping his hands lower onto my ass. "Wrap your arms around me,"
I did as I was told, slipping my arms around his neck and leaning against him. With no visible effort, he lifted me into the air, slamming my back against the wall, pressing his chest tightly against mine. I gasped as I wrapped my legs around him, feeling myself slide slowly down the wall. I was completely at his mercy, in his control; he could do whatever he wanted to me right now, and I loved it. This was exactly the way I wanted things. I wanted to be controlled, instead of the one always in control, the one making sure things went slow and gentle. And as I felt Brock thrust into me, grunting as he buried himself to the hilt, I knew that he was in control, and that I was just along for the ride.
And what a glorious ride it was. He started slowly, holding his hips still each time I whimpered. I soon tired of that, clenching tightly around him and biting down on his earlobe. He growled in response, pulling out until just the head of his cock remained in me, then thrusting hard back in. I moaned loudly, his cock tapping against my prostate, and dug my nails into his neck, pushing his lips onto mine. He kissed back roughly, continuing a hard thrusting motion into me, accompanying each with a loud grunt. I could feel my body tingle with each thrust, and with each thrust I deepened our kiss. It wasn't long before his thrusting gained in speed, his motions becoming jerkier and more reckless with each passing second. He was out of control in control, throwing me into ecstacy, giving me everything I wanted, more than I could handle.
My body was overrun quickly with pleasure, and I lost it, exploding against his chest with a quiet moan. As I came, I clenched tightly around him, yanking him too over the edge. He cried out as he fell into orgasm, thrusting thrice more before stopping his motions, holding me still against the wall. He gasped for breath, burying his face in my neck as he let himself slip from me. I kept my arms wrapped around him, softly kissing his temple, sighing as I came down from my high.
That was perfect, exactly the way I wanted everything to go. But now, as he slowly dropped me down onto my feet, what had just happened was finally sinking in. I'd cheated on Curtis. Not just that, but I hadn't hesitated for even a second. I wanted it, all of it. I wanted to be taken, controlled, animalistic; Brock gave presented all of those things, all things Curtis couldn't give me. I was suddenly confused, my head spinning, trying to make sense of the thoughts running through it. Was I happy with Curtis? That's a stupid question, of course I was. He was perfect, everything I'd ever asked for in a guy. But...he wasn't like this, he didn't fill this part of me. This was the first time since Kirk that I'd even remembered that part was there. I don't know if that's bad or good. Bad obviously, in the sense that when I finally remembered about it, I sought to satiate it with a man not my boyfriend. But good, in the sense that I must obviously be happy with Curtis to just ignore that part of me...
...Ignore. Not forget, ignore. Was I really...No, I won't think that. I love Curtis, I know that. This...this was just a mistake. A huge, life altering mistake I should be beaten severely for. Why the fuck did I have to hit him with that horseshoe? I'm never going near them again...
"James, did you hear me?" Brock's voice snaps me from my daze.
I turned to him, forcing a weak smile. "Sorry, I was daydreaming, what’d you say?"
"I asked if you wanted to go back down now? The guys are probably wondering what's taking so long,"
He smiled softly, his eyes emitting a slight twinkle as he pushed himself away from me with help from the wall. I stared at him for a moment, noting to myself the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the edges when he smiled, and that he only had one dimple, on his left cheek. Those thoughts quickly permeated my psyche, and brought a smile to my face. Before I could've even stopped myself, I felt my mouth open and words pour forth.
"Yeah," I smiled and nodded. "I'm kind of hungry now anyway,"
I winked, grinning at him as I slipped my shorts back on. He tossed my shirt at me, biting his lip as I caught it and made no effort to put it back on. I just continued to smile, ignoring my objecting mind and all of things it was screaming at me. I knew everything it was telling me was true, but I didn't want to hear any of it. I simply blocked out the voices clamoring, and waited for him to step out into the hall. I then proceeded to follow, allowing my eyes to travel along the powerful muscles dancing along his back as he walked. As we stepped back outside, one tiny voice broke through the barrier, and asked me a question I had no answer to. What the fuck was I doing?
* * *
What the fuck did I do? Why the fuck did I do it? How the fuck am I going to tell Curtis this? And who the fuck is the voice in my head, screaming the one fucking word I hate most in life over and over, like a demented broken record? Manwhore! Manwhore! Manwhore! I don't know who that fucking voice is, but it might be right. Maybe I never will be more than a manwhore. Maybe that voice is everyone, screaming at me, taunting me like I deserve right now. Manwhore, nothing more. Fuck me, but I can't deny that right now. Fuck...just fuck. I finally proved everyone right. Manwhore, nothing more.
END
© 2003 Triple X