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Glory Box	By : Beaverhausen13 Category: 1 through F > Friday the 13th: The Series Views: 585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Friday the 13th: The Series. I do not get paid for this. For extra really, though.

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II:      “This love has taken its toll on me
She said goodbye too many times before
Her heart is breaking in front of me
          But I have no choice
          ‘Cause I won’t say goodbye anymore…” ~Maroon 5 “This Love”

          Micki was dead. Stone fucking dead. I can’t forget how cold she felt in my arms when we found her in front of the taxidermy storefront.
          I’ll admit, I fucking lost it. I was overcome by the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my entire life as I clung to her lifeless body. I wouldn’t wish that kind of agony on my worst enemy. I honestly thought that it would kill me.
          I never want to feel that way again.
          My biggest mistake was falling in love with her, of course. I’ve been trying my darndest to ignore the depth of those feelings, mainly since she shot me down in the beginning. I get it, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I’m smart enough to know that she’s way out of my league. Anyone who is as absolutely drop-dead gorgeous as she is knows they could do better than an average schmo like me. So I don’t fault her for that.
          Still, like an absolute dunce, I had to fall just ass-over-teakettle for her, so the devastation of her death pretty much obliterated me. I was so out of it that I almost creamed Jack. And I love Jack, but in the moment, I blamed him for not protecting her. She’s precious fucking cargo, and was iced in the blink of an eye, and all alone.
          Cold. Dead. It still just fucking haunts me.
          Thankfully, I was able to pull it together enough to execute the plan to bring her back, but my God. Micki in the morgue. Just stealing her body back was enough to give me nightmares for eternity.
          But she’s back. And contrary to what I told Jack before, I am going to stick around. I have a big responsibility in obtaining these cursed objects and I intend to see this thing through to the end. Especially if it means that I get to keep seeing her beautiful face every day. I can’t help it. I’m hopelessly addicted to her presence.
          I know she can’t reciprocate the same feelings, but I’m just content to bask in her beautiful glow, you know? Aside from the constant erectile discomfort, we cohabitate pretty well together, and have been running a good clip for this year and some months.
          Of course, I had to fuck everything up by making love to her last night. Yeah, she initiated it, said she needed to feel alive; and truth be told, I *also* needed to feel that she was living. The memory of her cold, dead body is still too recent. And she felt like more than life in my arms. Like fucking divinity, that’s what she is.
          But I should have just had sex with her, or at least fucked her within an inch of her life. Nope, I couldn’t, I was physically unable to do anything but make love to her. Once she gave me the go ahead on her gorgeous body, I had to go straight for the source. I feel sort of bad about the state of her panties, but she didn’t seem to mind. God damn, I am in so much trouble now. Because she’s the most amazing tasting woman I have *ever* gone down on. And it’s one of my favorite things to do, so I’ve honed my skills happily over the years, but she just blew me away with her decadent flavor. I find myself craving it right now, just thinking about it. A chef couldn’t come up with a better marrying of savory and sweet as what lies between her silken thighs.
          She’s got to be the softest woman I’ve ever had relations with, as well. Every part of her rivals a baby’s bottom. Her naked body is a privileged sight to behold, my God. I thought I had a pretty good imagination, but her reality exceeds everything that I had thought. And being inside that body? Heaven wishes it was that good. Euphoria was pushing into her tight, hot, glorious wetness as I kissed her insanely delicious mouth. I have a feeling that I could lose a good weekend kissing her before I even knew what happened. Fuck me, I’m fucking doomed. What absolutely killed me was watching her come. She was seriously the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I thought I couldn’t fall any more in love with her, but I unmistakably did. My heart almost stopped beating. And she came so many times. She definitely put the ‘multi’ in multi-orgasmic. It had me rather stunned.
          Then I made her cry. Her tears started during the most powerful orgasm I have ever experienced, leaving me ambivalent after my peak subsided and terrified that I had hurt her. Her soft urging to come with her had sent me into overload and I lost all control, so I was afraid that I had gotten too rough. She assured me she was fine, but those tears just kept coming.
          Making me feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.
          I feel like I took complete advantage of the situation, and that honestly, any man could have been in my place in that moment. I get it. She just needed to feel like she was with the living. And I happened to be the closest man nearby to help her out with that need.
          She of all people should know that I will do whatever she asks me to. Micki has had me wrapped around her finger from jump street. But her tears fucking did me in. All I could think was that she was probably wishing that she had done what we just finished with someone that she genuinely *wanted* to, not just trusty ol’ Ryan Dallion. My heart broke all over again. It wasn’t as bad as witnessing her dead, but the pain of it was still pretty agonizing. I kissed her tears away as she passed out under me, her legs still wrapped tightly around my waist and holding me inside her. I hated every second of it, but I wrenched her unconscious body from mine, gently shifting her back to her pillows, finding her camisole and tugging it back onto her body before covering her with her blankets, kissing her forehead, and getting the hell out of there. I was back on my cot in a sweaty heap before I knew it.
          Now continues the mission for self-preservation. Having made love to her has made this effort about a trillion times harder than it already was, but I can try to go back to normal.
          I have got to find a way to stop loving her as desperately as I do. The pain of it is simply too much to deal with. And our quest is far too great to let the ache of my unrequited love get in the way.
          First things first, deny everything even happened. Yup, this is just any old morning. I’m sure we’ve got plenty of research to do on one thing or another to keep us distracted, not to mention we have regular store hours today, so I’ve got that going for me. Distractions will prove to be my saving grace. They’ve worked pretty well so far. I will myself off my cot and officially wake up, moving to the coffee pot to get the coffee going. I’m sure Jack will probably be up soon. I trot down the stairs and through the storefront to snag the paper from our front step as the coffee’s brewing, then reverse my trip back up to the Goods Lair. I reach the top of the steps and my heart stops beating when I see her pouring coffee into a cup in her fluffy white robe. A well-rested and highly sexed Micki is a beauteous sight, indeed. She’s fucking glowing like a beacon. I have to look away, she makes my heart hurt so much.
          “Good morning, Ryan. Coffee?” Her voice is relatively cheerful and she has a glint in her eye.
          “Morning. Sure, I’ll take a cup. Got the paper.” I answer, averting my eyes again.
          “How very helpful you are.” She kids me in a jovial tone, passing me a steaming cup of joe. I set the paper down on the kitchen table and snag the cup from her, trying my damndest to look anywhere but at her.
          I figure the paper is a good start for a distraction. God damn, I can smell her. The aroma of the taste that I crave so much now. She sits down next to me at the table, quietly sipping her coffee and looking at me. “Did you want to claim a particular section?” I ask, sipping on my own cup and rifling through the different segments of the news.
          “No. Ryan, about last night…”
          I cut her off, “What about it? I fell asleep early with my headphones on. Business as usual.” I say flippantly.
          She looks at me with disbelief for a split second, then with a sort of realized hurt that makes me immediately regret my words. Her eyes blink back tears and I feel like the biggest asshole ever, “Yep. Business as usual. I’m taking my coffee to my room to get dressed.” Micki manages out and rushes into her room, slamming her door behind her.
          My guts hurt, but it’s for the greater good. She couldn’t possibly love me as much as I love her, and she deserves nothing but the best. And I am far from the best.
          The rest of the day passes in what could only be described as a cloying torture. I can’t even look at her face without recalling it in the gorgeous throes of orgasm. And her scent keeps driving me off the wall. I just want to throw her down and lap up that wondrous delicacy between her legs. Every time she gets too close, I’m practically white knuckling it. So I’m not exactly thrilled when she reminds me of her birthday present I had gotten her a couple of months ago: tickets to the Orchestra for this evening. I was sort of hoping to escape to the bar with a couple buddies tonight and stumble home after she’s been in bed a few hours; but it looks like I’m not gonna get that reprieve.
          We close up the shop for the day and start getting ready for the evening, which means she gets the shower first, because it takes her longer to dress and do her makeup. She exits the bathroom as I’m coming back up the stairs and I almost crash into her in her path back to her bedroom. She’s still a little damp under her satin robe and her nipples are standing at attention, making me automatically rock hard on sight. God, her fucking scent. I’m almost overpowered by it right now.
          “Bathroom’s free.” She tells me. The air crackles with electricity.
          “Thanks.”
          I shower and suit up, snagging my glasses to bring with me, and am rendered cardiac when she emerges through the French doors. Micki usually knocks ‘em dead in black, and the evening gown she has on is doing exactly that. Sweet Jesus, that neckline. I think she really does want to stop my goddamn heart. Now I’m really regretting not popping another one off before I got out of the shower.
          Focus, Dallion. You need a bigger distraction. You have to let this love for her go. She’s never gonna feel the same, so there’s no use in bothering. We get to the orchestra hall and find our seats. She’s sitting so close our shoulders are grazing. Holy cow, this is boring. And every time I glance at Micki, I keep getting glimpses of the swell of her breast in that neckline crafted by Heaven or Hell, depending on your perspective. She’s so fucking gorgeous tonight. And I keep smelling her. It makes me want to dive my head right into her lap, audience be damned. It would be so easy to just lean in and kiss her, she’s that painfully close. Stop fucking thinking about her! Find a distraction. Any distraction.
          Hey, wait a minute.
          She’ll do.
          I make a point of asking Micki about the lady in question, just to prove to her and myself that I have the ability to move on away from her.
          2^nd Violin. She seems promising. An enchanting enough distraction, anyway. I am suddenly very interested in classical music. Time to turn on the old Dallion charm and begin my pursuit. Another woman will be the perfect distraction. And who knows, maybe this one will like me as much as I like her. Then I can remove myself from Micki’s pedestal and get on with my life.
          I can’t afford this kind of pain anymore. I have to numb these feelings and take back control. It’s the only way I’m gonna survive this.
          The show ends and I find my chance for escape while the audience is in applause mode.
          Let’s get crackin’, Ms. 2^nd Violin.
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Glory Box