Decades

Denial

Lindsey and Stevie were either fucking or fighting or both. They were both dramatic and prone to feeling things very deeply. The things they'd felt for each other were much more complicated than they could easily put into words. There had just been so much between them and they'd never quite let it run its course, they'd always hung on just enough to pull each other back in. No clean breaks for Lindsey and Stevie.

Their connection had always been real, even when it was dark. Stevie thought back to a time when Lindsey was with Carol Ann. They'd been doing some studio work together and it had been going particularly well, they'd been getting along pretty great, in fact. Until Lindsey criticized something Stevie added, what that was, who knows? But, things escalated quickly, as they do with passionate people.

Years later, she understands that he began to criticize her as a protective measure. He felt himself letting her back in and wanted to stop his feelings from getting out of hand before they even started. If he let her in, she'd leave again, and he'd have to feel the emptiness of her absence even more acutely.

The quickest way to stop that from happening was to strip the warmth away.

She had been taken aback and angry at his change in attitude and stormed out of the studio. Lindsey followed her, on the fence about how he'd handle this. He was between calling her unprofessional and demeaning her for not being able to take constructive criticism, or apologizing for being an asshole to her. Not knowing which it would be, he followed her. God knows he was tired of following her, but couldn't stop himself. His feelings for her infuriated him and he hated her and hated himself for having them.

When he got to her, she was leaning against the wall with her hands covering her face, he could tell by the way that her shoulders were moving that she was crying. When she sensed him standing there, she lowered her hands, wiping her tears first, and glared at him with all the hate and hurt she could muster. "What do you want, Lindsey?" she asked, her eyes seeming to challenge him.

He still wasn't sure which way he wanted to go. Seeing her vulnerable and sad made him want to fix it, so he considered apologizing. But, seeing her this way made him want her, so he knew to preserve his distance, making her angry was the better option. As he stood there, he truly could not answer her question. What did he want, other than not to want her?

She stood there, eyes sparkling with unshed tears and he could not help bridging the distance between them, and he pushed himself toward her and kissed her deeply. She did not respond the way he had hoped, she pushed him away, and he felt her palm connect with his cheek, hard.

"Fuck you, Lindsey. I hate you. You hate me. We hate each other." she said, while drawing herself up to her full height and looking fiercely into Lindsey's eyes.

"That's the problem," Lindsey muttered. "I hate you so much, the sight of you makes me want to break things."

He tried to look down, but something about her intensity dared him to look away. She stared at him with so much rage, looking from one eye to the other. He tried hard to hold her gaze, but in spite of himself, he was the first to look away. He refused to look into those big brown eyes again, he was afraid if he did that he'd reestablish the connection he had to her. Being a jerk had been the best way to sever it before he was consumed by her again.

Unexpectedly, she moved the half step forward and kissed him. It wasn't a tender, romantic kiss. There was rage on her lips. He tried not to return the kiss, to stand stock still. He willed himself to walk away. But, his feet were grounded as if poured in concrete.

Against his will, he began to kiss her back, angrily. He pushed her tiny body against the wall and pressed his hands against the wall above her head, nothing touching her but his angry mouth. He felt like he'd be burned if any other part of him dared touch her. It was as if she sensed this and wanted him to burn.

He felt her hands on him. She'd reached into his now short curls and grabbed a handful, pulling him closer to her. Her other hand forced itself into the space he was trying to keep between them and ran down his chest to his abs and lower before reaching around to his lower back where she brought him fully into her body.

As he leaned in, she wrapped her thin leg around his upper thigh, forcing her pelvis to grind into his, while they continued their violent, passionate kiss. Her moan was all it took, and his resolve evaporated. His hands went to her thigh as he moved her into the position he wanted her in.

She pushed him back just enough to unfasten his pants and free his throbbing member before returning to their feverish kiss. He lifted her dress and reached underneath roughly. Through her silky panties, he could tell how wet she was. He knew in that moment that he'd never be able to resist her, could never turn down the chance to be inside her.

He pulled her panties to the side and guided himself to her entrance, without looking at Stevie, he thrust into her as hard as he could. She groaned deliciously, and he continued, pounding her roughly, passionately. She responded by moving angrily against him, echoing his furious movements.

He felt her perfect, crimson fingernails painfully tearing at his back and ass. She was forcing him deeper into herself, breathing roughly in his ear. His hand on her breast, pinching and kneading, made her gasp and beg for more. He could tell she was close and while he wanted to deny her pleasure, he hated her so much, he was, as always conflicted.

There was such a fine line between love and hate. He wanted her to remember this encounter because of the earth-shaking orgasm he was about to give her. So, he chose to fuck on, harder and faster, listening to her cries and heavy panting as they reached a fevered pitch in his ear. He drew back for only a second, sensing that she was searching for his eyes. He looked at her, only briefly, as she came hard.

He didn't stop thrusting, he needed to come too. He usually could time his climax with hers, but that was because of the shared connection and eye contact they'd forever had when they were in bed together. He wanted his power back and falling into that power of hers wasn't the way to do it. He knew this, so he thrust harder, avoiding her eyes.

"Come for me, baby," Stevie whispered. But, he couldn't. He wanted to cry in frustration. She knew what he needed, and wanted him to have it, but he didn't want it. Wanted anything but that. He couldn't look at her, he could not allow himself to reestablish that connection with his heart, even if their bodies were currently intimately connected.

"Look at me, I'm here," she choked out between his relentless pounding. "Baby.... Lindsey..." she whispered, reaching for his face. She knew that he was avoiding making this about anything other than anger. If he looked at her in this moment, he was back at square one. They both knew this. He didn't want to be powerless again.

With everything he had, he pulled away from this exquisite woman whom he loved so much, but couldn't have, whom he hated in equal measure. Denying himself the homecoming he was afraid he'd see in her eyes. He forced his still-hard dick back into his pants and walked away.

Leaving Stevie heartsick and alone.

As he walked away, trying to catch his breath, he felt like he'd won a tragic victory, one he didn't even want to win. He'd denied himself pleasure  and connection in order to protect himself from pain.

Of course, he'd go looking for her later that night, but for now, it felt like he'd won. Or maybe not won, but he'd survived, and that was something.