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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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V:      “So Fuck You, and your untouchable face
          Fuck you, for existing in the first place
          And who am I?
          That I should be vying for your touch
          I said who am I?
          I bet you can’t even tell me that much…” ~Ani DiFranco “Untouchable
Face”

          These past few days, I haven’t been able to shake this air of utter heartache. Ryan didn’t come home last night. And yes, he’s been like a spectre since the bathroom door incident, but he’s at least still waking up on his cot every morning.
          Until last night.
          I’m almost positive that he slept with her. That shady bitch Leslie.
          Of course, I looked her up in the Manifest.
          Then I got Jack on the case, and sure enough, a cursed Guevarius Violin was tracked right back to her, bought as a gift for her former lover Yanos Korda.
          And Ryan spent the night with her.
          The thought of it brings simultaneous flames around my face and a lurch in my gut for fear of his safety.
          Because no matter how mad I may be at him, I still love him with every inch of me and want him to be okay. I can’t help but be the fool that I am when it comes to him.
          I’ve also been perpetually horny with no outlet, and have been dying for him to touch me again. I’ve even been dressing slightly more provocatively, but not like he’d know since he hasn’t been around. Leslie. That slutty-slut-slut bitch Leslie. Probably enjoying the wonder of his magician mouth as we speak. I hate her. I want to kill him. Well, fuck him first, then kill him.
          For a split second there, Jack almost caught on that something is amiss between Ryan and I. I regained control quickly, but my feelings were a little naked when I was talking about Ryan and Leslie, and the hypnotic effect that she has on him. He’s been pretty obsessed.
          I’ll admit, I’m pretty envious of that obsession.
          If he was that amazing for just a pity-fuck, what does that mean when he unleashes the *full* force of his passion? Lucky girl. I hate her so fucking much.
          My ache would not exist if he hadn’t flipped some sexual switch inside of me that night. I find myself craving him, and I can’t get what happened against the bathroom door out of my mind. Why did he do that? We had already non-verbally agreed to ignore what had happened, so I am befuddled by his motives there. Yet another reminder of what a master he is at eating out. And in that moment, it felt like he genuinely wanted me. In fact, it seemed like he had no ability to stop himself from what he was doing and was like a man possessed.
          It was so hot.
          Then he had to apologize and break my heart all over again. Twice in one day. That must be some sort of record, Mr. Dallion. Get yourself a goddamn medal.
          This would be so much easier if he wanted me like I want him. But no, he wants her. The evil whore Leslie. When I have seen him, she’s all he’s talked about. Frustrating is putting it lightly. I want to spit nails.
          But the last thing that I will ever do is throw myself at him. I need to keep *some* dignity in all of this. Yet, sometimes, in the middle of the night, I want to walk the eight feet to his bed and just climb onto his dick.
          He wouldn’t be able to ignore *that*.
          It’s already established that he doesn’t want me that way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have rejected me so absolutely. Besides running into the arms of Leslie the Thundercunt. That’s been a particular sword in the center of my heart.
          Fuck all, I really wish that I didn’t want, no *need* him as much as I do. Because the fact of the matter is, I miss him. His absence feels like a hole in my chest. And I miss how easy we were around each other before the coin fucked up our entire former relationship. We’d already proven that we can live together and get along. He’s been my steady, object hunting partner-in-crime for most of the time we’ve known each other, and we work well together, in our quest and in running our store. And yeah, so I fell in love with him. I wasn’t going to burden him with it. Our quest takes precedent over all emotions.
          But holy fucking shit, this hurts. If only that fucking coin had finished me off for good. If only I didn’t know how outstanding he feels inside of me. If the fuck only…
          Now, to get back this violin from the Wicked Bitch of Orchestra Hall before the only man I could ever love gets hurt, or killed. God forbid. Because there wouldn’t be a way to bring him back like with the coin.
          And that would be worse than death, witnessing him dead.
          I wouldn’t be able to handle it. So I found that bitch’s address and am now breaking into her apartment to try to find the Guevarius and get it into the vault to prevent any more murders.
          Someone grabs me from behind, and I panic, feeling an oddly familiar hand grabbing my breast in their hold. The light pops on.
          Ryan. So he’s still here. Was he planning on moving in? I tell him why I’m here and of course; he doesn’t want to believe me. Even pushes me up against the wall, and for a millisecond I was praying that he would repeat his bathroom door performance. Too painful. I move away from him and continue to plead my case. That she’s not the person that he thinks she is. That her and Korda were lovers.
          Something comes over him after he picks up a pocket watch on her desk and he bolts out of there, shrugging away from my attempt to comfort him and driving another knife into my very soul.
          I leave shortly after he does, it doesn’t seem like the violin is at Leslie’s, but from the way Ryan booked it out of there, he might know where it is. I wish he wouldn’t have ditched me, we’re supposed to be a team, for fuck’s sake. I wish he would let me help him. I get home and out of my burglar attire, slip back into my white dress, and wait for Ryan to return.
          He’s back in a couple of hours with the violin and a reel-to-reel recording device. Leslie is dead. Korda was being kept alive by the violin, and that’s how the new releases kept occurring. Now they’re both dead, and Ryan is devastated.
          Yeah, I hated her, but my heart still aches for him. He doesn’t deserve this shit. Even if he did sleep with her and crush my entire self. I try to comfort him but he snaps at me. It’s torture to touch him, but I do it anyway. I’m drawn to him like a goddamn magnet.
          Eventually, his iciness drives me away and I leave him downstairs to wallow. I take a shower and slip into my lavender nightshirt and satin robe, and am making myself a cup of tea when he finally lopes his way upstairs.
          “Want a cup of tea? I just put the kettle on.” I’m trying to be gentle and considerate, even though my chest aches just looking at him, not to mention the dull, continual throb in my center.
          “That’d be great. Thanks, Micki.” Ryan says, plopping onto his cot and staring at the ceiling.
          I pull out another cup and place a teabag in it next to the one I had prepared for myself, pouring the hot water from the steaming kettle into both, “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly.
          He just continues to stare blankly at his focal point on the ceiling, so I bring his cup over to him, standing in front of where he is lying on his cot. He accepts his tea as he sits up, “Do you ever get the feeling that we’re doomed?” he asks me finally.
          In so many ways, yes, we are absolutely doomed. “I can’t help but feel that sometimes. I mean, I *died*, Ryan.” I answer him honestly.
          “Please don’t remind me.” He says quietly, setting his cup on his nightstand.
          “I’m sorry.” I reach out to hug him and he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my belly as I remain standing in front of him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my hands reaching to stroke his back tenderly.
          “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He mumbles against me, “I shouldn’t have bit your head off earlier. You were just trying to be a good friend, and I shat all over you. You deserve so much better than my bullshit.”
          “I get it. You’re hurting. I only took a slight offense, but I got over it.” I answer, one of my hands moving to his hair and ruffling it as he hugs me tighter.
          God this feels good. I’ve been missing being close to him like this. Still, I am also highly aroused at the same time, which is a more recent state of being, since the sexual cat was let out of the bag, so to speak.
          It occurs to me that he’s tasted me plenty, but I have yet to have really tasted him, besides his fabulous mouth, that is. And now, that curiosity is eating at me. I find myself sliding down in his hold between his legs until I am kneeling in front of him, and he pulls back slightly, looking at me with confusion all over his face. He really is just adorable when he’s bewildered.
          My hands slide around from his back to his lap and begin to start undoing his slacks. One of his hands reaches to stop me, “You don’t have to…”
          I slap his hand away, “You’re right. I don’t have to.” I tell him as my fingers drag the zipper of his fly open and I yank down the waistbands of his pants and boxers. Oh, there it is. And it’s just as beautiful as I remember it being, too. He’s breathing triple time as my mouth descends and engulfs him. Mmm, delicious. He’s just fucking impeccable. Yummy.
          “Hmm, Micki,” Ryan pants above me, “Please. If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it together.”
          The arousal fairy blesses me with a gush in my underwear at his words. Sweet fucking mercy. My hands reach up and rip his button-down shirt open, practically tearing it off of him as I reluctantly raise my mouth from his cock and rise back to standing. Meanwhile, he’s shrugging me out of my robe and reaching under my night shirt.
          Yep. There goes another pair of panties, ripped to shreds in his hands. I must say, it’s a very stimulating habit that he has with the consistent underwear destruction. I’m going to have to buy some more panties soon, at this rate. But do I care? In the moment: Fuck no.
          He lays back down on his cot and I climb on him facing his incredibly gorgeous erection, straddling his chest and scooting slightly back until I feel his hot breath on me. I’ve only really done this one other time, and that was ages ago, so I hope I’m remembering this correctly. Our mouths descend on each other at the same time, and oh my holy what. This is incredible. He tastes so good, and what his mouth is doing to me is even better than that. Now *this* is teamwork. He’s found the spot again, wow that was fast, and it forces me to moan on him and increase my own suction as I try valiantly to concentrate on what I am doing to him.
          Thank God Jack’s spending the night at Rashid’s again. This is not a sight he should be a witness to, certainly.
          But oh my shit, does it feel amazing. And I’m coming already. The sensation of wonderful spreads through me, and I find myself sucking on him even harder and moaning to the beat of the band. He has the most magical mouth and tongue in existence. And the way that he’s groaning into me at what I am doing to him just heightens it all to the next level.
          It’s not long before the next orgasm sweeps over me, and I lose a handle on what I’m doing momentarily, pulling my mouth off of him and letting out a loud moan before descending back onto him, swirling my tongue around him, and sucking hard. He lets out another groan into me and licks faster on my clitoris in retaliation, prolonging this cataclysmic orgasm and making it impossible to see a goddamned thing. That’s okay, I don’t need my vision to feel or taste, and those are my priorities at the present. He tastes as good as he smells, salty and manly with just a hint of sage. And the way his mouth feels…no comparison on Earth would do it justice, so I won’t even bother.
          I’m trying to pick up my pace, but the pleasure coming from his end is rather overwhelming; that brilliant mouth lapping, nipping, and suckling me over the edge once more. I tug on his testicles lightly as I moan onto him and suck as hard as I can in response, and I feel him release into my mouth at the height of my very powerful third orgasm, drinking in his sage-y essence as I just shudder over him. Wow.
          My fucking God. That was…
          Incredibly fucking stupid of me. Good going, Micki, you’re the sloppy seconds to a dead girl. How proud you must be.
          He’s still lapping at me gently when reality comes crashing down entirely. I told myself I wouldn’t throw myself at him, and like the biggest dumbass imaginable, I did exactly that. Fuck.
          And the whole time, he was probably wishing that I was her. How fucking stupid and hopeless am I? Smart. Super fucking smart.
          It’s really hard to move after the three earth shattering orgasms that I just had, but I do my best to climb off of his body as he keeps up his attempts to lick my nether region, his mouth breaking contact completely when I am finally able to crawl off of his cot.
          “Where are you going?” Ryan’s voice is slightly ragged and a tinge confused.
          “Bed. I’m sorry, Ryan.” I’m trying really fucking hard not to cry right now.
          Genius level moves there, Miss Foster.
          “Micki?”
          I look at him, or try to anyway through eyes filled with tears, and pick my robe up off his floor, “What, Ryan? What do you want me to say?”
          Is that a face full of pity coming off of him? Jesus, why doesn’t he just finish me off completely? “Nothing.” He breathes out, looking very naked and vulnerable at the moment. The pain in my chest is unbearable.
          “Goodnight.” I whisper, making my exit through my bedroom doors.
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Glory Box