Title: The Way It's Supposed To Be
Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi.
Summary: Kind of fills in the time between when we see Marco in the car with that old guy in OOALH and Marco coming in the door near the end. Written because I have to bring Darco into everything, even when Dylan's half way around the world.
A/N: I doubt Marco let things get as far with the man as he does in this story, but it worked better this way. Oh, and the italicized parts are flashbacks.
The man dropped his hand casually to my knee, and my entire body tensed up. My mind was racing, on overload, struggling to make sense of everything: Devon was a prostitute. This man wanted sex. For money. Three hundred dollars. He wanted me.
Could I do it?
It always started with a look. Then a touch. A simple, mostly innocent gesture. For instance, the wink and walk-by-hand-brush I had just received from Dylan. He threw a look back over his shoulder at me, smirking. So of course, I followed him as though I was attached by strings. He was headed upstairs, and I knew immediately to which room. Sure enough, as soon as I reached the top landing, I saw him disappear into our bedroom. Grinning, I slipped in after him, and he shut and locked the door behind me.
The old man's hand had started to slide up my thigh, slowly, as though he was waiting for me to jump away. I shuddered involuntarily as goose bumps crawled up my skin, hating every second of this. Everything in me was screaming at me to get away. And I wanted to. So badly. But I forced myself to stay still. If I did this, it would solve all my money problems. I could afford to go to all the clubs I wanted to. I could pay back Ellie. I wouldn't have to hit my friends up for cash every few days. All I had to do was give this man what he wanted, and then it would be over with and I would have the money.
Far easier said than done.
The man leaned in close to me. I could feel his putrid breath in my ear, and I wanted to grimace and twist away. "You sure are a sexy thing, aren't you?" he grunted approvingly.
I giggled as Dylan scooped me up in his arms, spun me around once, then fell with me on our bed, pinning me underneath him. He leaned in close and whispered in a strangely erotic voice, "You are so beautiful."
I pulled him further down on top of me and kissed him slowly. I'll admit I loved it when he said things like that. Hey, I was human. And like most humans, there were times when I doubted myself. Actually, there were a lot of times. And sometimes, I needed assurance. And Dylan muttering in my ear how gorgeous or special or amazing I was, was all the reassurance I needed.
The man― I didn't even know his name― had thankfully forgone kissing me, at least on the lips. But he had moved from my ear to my neck, and still I sat there rigidly, trying not to squirm in discomfort. He didn't seem to mind that I hadn't moved, had barely breathed. He just wanted someone to fuck. Wanted my body. Meanwhile, I just wanted to bolt. I wanted to throw open the car door and just run flat out until I was as far away from Devon and this man and this car as humanly possible.
Dylan and I were both completely naked by now. You'd think we'd be cold, but there was such a heat between our bodies that we could have been on a glacier and still been sweating. Actually, we probably would have melted the glacier, there was such intense warmth. These moments with him, lying here beneath him in his loving embrace, there was no where else I'd rather be.
There was a painful lump in my throat, and I was fiercely fighting back tears. There was a click, and my seat belt retracted. It was all I could do not to give a strangled cry as I was forced down on my back.
Devon's client was on top of me now, and I wanted to throw up. I really did. This was all so wrong. Everything about it. From the uncomfortable weight on top of me, to the way his hands were crushing my wrists as he forced them above my head, to the utter vulnerability I felt like this. I wasn't sure what had happened to Devon. I thought he'd be back here, too, but he seemed to have disappeared. I suddenly felt very alone, despite the repulsive presence on top of me. He was so rough, so forceful. I was pretty sure he'd bruised my shoulder, maybe my hip, and I was certain that I would have bracelets of blue and purple adorning my wrists by the time he was finished.
He let go of one of my arms to fumble clumsily with my belt. I was suddenly grateful that my pants had been a half a size too large. Anything to stall him.
As anyone who knew us at all could mostly likely guess― if for some reason they were curious― Dylan was the dominant one in bed. Always. It had never surprised me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I never minded. And maybe that was because, despite Dylan's size and strength, he was also astonishingly gentle. And loving. And never once was there a time when I didn't enjoy it. He never took it too far, never hurt me, never did anything that I didn't want him to do. All I had to do was say the word, and he'd stop. And that was why he was allowed. I trusted him enough that I could be in that position with him and know perfectly well that, although he had the strength, I had the power.
The man had succeeded in undoing my belt, and was now struggling with the button and zipper of my jeans. A tear slipped, unnoticed by the guy, out of the very corner of my eye.
Dylan had started to stroke me teasingly. I closed my eyes briefly, my toes curling as pleasure radiated through me.
I felt slight relief as the waistband of my jeans slackened a bit, and I knew he'd gotten the button loose. His hand slipped just inside the top of my pants, brushing the waistband of my underwear. Instinctively, I gave a little jerk.
"Don't worry, it'll be over soon. You'll have your money," the slimy voice promised.
I nearly moaned when the pleasure stopped a moment later. But then I felt Dylan brush my entrance, and I forced myself to be patient. After some preparation, he entered me, and I gasped. It still hurt. It helped that I had been expecting it, but it took a moment for my body to adjust. I squeezed his hand a little tighter, and he squeezed back.
"Don't worry, the pain'll be gone soon. And that's when the fun begins," he muttered. I knew this already, of course, but until the pain went away and pleasure took over, he always seemed to feel the need to encourage me.
The old man licked his lips in an almost predatory manner, and his hand slipped lower.
Dylan was inside me, sending pleasure coursing through me with each thrust. Though unbelievable, it wasn't just the physical enjoyment that made this so extraordinary. It was the fact that it was Dylan inside of me. Like we were one. One with the man I loved. The way it should be. The way it's supposed to be…
"No." Using the one arm I managed to wrench free, I suddenly knocked the man's hand aside, struggling to sit up. "No, I can't. I can't do this."
Despite the fact that I was still twisting beneath him, trying to free my other wrist from his grip and get out from under him, the man made no effort to move. I felt alarm surge through me. Surely he would let me up―?
"What?" he said dimly, obviously confused. "What's wrong?"
"I can't do it." I was trying to breathe, but my lungs didn't seem to want to cooperate.
"Yeah, Devon warned me you were new. Go find him, will you? And next time? Don't waste my time." At last, to my relief, the man released me. I could not scramble out of the car fast enough.
I didn't bother to find Devon. I just had to leave right then. I had no idea where we were, but that didn't stop me from running. Finally, I stopped, gasping for breath, and collapsed against a tree, burying my head in my arms. More than anything at that moment, I wished I could feel Dylan there with me, reassuring me. God knew I needed it right then. What was I doing? How could I even consider…that? What was wrong with me?
What would Dylan say?
All alone in the dark, huddled at the base of a tree, yearning for my ex-boyfriend who was currently half way around the world, I allowed myself to cry. I couldn't remember ever needing him so much. Why did everything I do always somehow come back to him?
When we'd both found release, Dylan rolled off me, and I snuggled into his side, still feeling the need to be close to him. I ended up falling asleep with my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around me, and when glaring sunlight woke us the next morning, we hadn't moved at all.
Maybe because it was the way everything was supposed to be.