Do You…
(Tyler/Raven one-shot)
Takes place after 'Psychic Eye for the Sloppy Guy'… Tyler tries to come up with a new art project, and a gorgeous Raven and a sleepy song by Miguel isn't helping.
He watches her toss and turn in his bed, chuckling when her soft snoring echoed through the room. She never looked more beautiful: her once neat and pristine hair tousled and wild like a lion's mane, her make-up smudged all over her face and pillow, adding to the drool that begun spreading throughout his prized sleeping companion. To many the sight is nasty, unladylike. But to Tyler, it's painfully adorable.
Tyler needed Raven that night; his art project depended on her. He was to paint a picture that has more than one symbol juxtaposed in a perfect mix. His ex-girlfriend wouldn't do it, and he hardly knows anyone outside of Raven, Chelsea, or Eddie. But with Chelsea's fruit-looped ideas on saving the eco-system and Eddie's preoccupation with his love roller-coaster with his girlfriend Chantel, Raven was a reasonable choice. He was apprehensive about picking Raven; he still harbored feelings for her. It led to a messy break-up with Vicki months later, which hurt, but he figured it was for the best.
Raven wasn't difficult to convince for the art project; a thought of a portrait of her was more than enough to kick her conceit in over-drive and have her more than happy to say yes. While she's talking his ear off over the phone with excruciating details on how she wants to be painted, Tyler begins jotting down and crossing off ideas in his notebook with fervent irritation. His arsenal of paints and pencils stand at his attention, but he has no ideas on how to put them to good use. After tearing out the last piece of his notebook paper to join the overflowing pile of rejected ideas, Tyler was eager to rip his own hair out. Raven's loud voice on the phone was as soothing as nails scratching on a chalkboard and a jackhammer playing in his ears simultaneously. He bid Raven goodnight and gave out a frustrated yell, hating the stress the project was giving him.
'Do you like drugs…?'
Tyler snapped his head up at that crooning voice and realized it was his radio playing some song that had a cozy, lazy Saturday feel to it. He chortled darkly at how much the music industry could get away with as long as they had a catchy instrumental.
Tyler sucked his teeth and scowled at his radio. He'd grown tired of these whiny self-pitying songs that try to be relatable.
What was that song getting at?
Now the song caught Tyler's attention with the hug part. Drugs and hugs? The singer's pretty clever. The more he listened; he finds himself enjoying the song more than he should. The tune was great for those lazy summer afternoons with a lover. The words had a playful tune; like the singer was having fun and making the song question the whole point of love. Raven began to swim through Tyler's mind; images of her in her underwear wrapped up in his sheets, her hair a tousled wild mess, beckoning to come to her with her finger before whacking him with a pillow for being so foolish. He began to laugh at that giddy feeling in his stomach.
"Tyler, your mom said you'd be in here," His head whipped around and saw Raven. Beautiful, curvy Raven wearing a party dress that sparkled and clung to her frame with heels that could stab someone, looking sexy with her make-up and jewelry with her hair in subtle beach waves. When she entered, her sweet and spicy scent made Tyler high with bliss.
"I like that song," Raven spoke, making Tyler hyperventilate internally. Raven Baxter, in his room, on this night, with this damn song playing and taunting him. The Gods have spoken.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" Tyler asked. His lips had lost its moisture and confidence, making his words come out in a throaty whisper. Raven, oblivious to his discomfort, walked towards him with the staggering grace of a lioness, tossed him a Polaroid camera and said, "I want you to take pictures of me to use for your art piece. I don't have time to look this good and it go to waste on this night. So start shooting, Tyler."
Tyler steadied the camera, and Raven positioned herself.
Click! Pose here.
Click! Pose there. She knew how to work a camera; he could tell he could thank America's Next Top Model for that. He could honestly say he was surprised he could even take accurate photos when his mind was running wild when she posed like this and posed like that. He could feel heat rushing to his loins and he did his best to restrain himself, especially when her dress rose too high on the hemline or dipped too low on the bust line.
The impromptu photo shoot was for about thirty minutes with a staggering twenty-seven shots that Raven took upon herself to sift out and pick the best ones. Tyler wasn't complaining; he knew Raven had a good eye for finding tasteful pictures. She settled on five and was about to leave when Tyler, on impulse, grabbed her hand.
"Why did you come here?" He spoke with more conviction. Raven cocked her eyebrow and switched her hips to the side.
"Well, like I told you earlier, I wanted to look good so I—"
"Lies. Tell me the real reason you came here."
"I made a mistake," Raven admitted.
"What?" Tyler was confused.
"You remember that make-over when you changed your appearance? Where you began dating Vicki and it almost got ruined? Where you had feelings for me and I rejected you?"
"Yes, what about it?"
"I made a mistake; I shouldn't have judged a book by its cover. You're sweet, artistic, a good person. If I could, I would've gone out with you before the make-over if I knew what kind of guy you'd be right now."
"So…you like me?"
"Only one way to find out," Tyler's mind went blank when her lips touched his. Her lips were sticky, but smelled like some fruity milkshake his mother would buy. He closed his eyes and enjoyed what he'd been denying himself for so long, a dream or vision of what he thought could never be.
His arms wrapped themselves around Raven and he improvised the kiss. He left her lips and reached for her neck, her shoulder, daring himself to lick and nip. Her soft moans were only encouragement.
She was on the bed, bouncing with the rough force when he pushed her on and got on top of her, wrapping her legs around his back and resumed his kissing.
His brain and lower brain were fighting with themselves; his logical side was screaming at him to stop now, to not go any further. His lower half was telling him to lose control, that this would be the only chance that he'll ever have to show Raven how he felt about her, all the feelings he's pushed down for her…
"Tyler," She moaned out. Tyler wasn't listening; his hands began groping and trying to hike up her dress. His lips latched on to the spot where her neck met her shoulder and began sucking gently, trying to elicit more noises out of her. He's addicted; he can no longer control himself…
"Tyler, Tyler, stop. Please, stop. I can't do this. We can't do this,"
Fragile hands push him away, and he sobers up. He looks at Raven again, and is horrified at what he sees. Raven, beneath him, trying not to cry. Her dress was hiked up, showing Tyler her teal-colored panties, her lips red with kisses, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. What made him sick was her neck, a reddish bruise forming, with small indentions of teeth marks.
He almost lost complete control. He could've…
"I'm sorry," He croaked out. He couldn't believe he lost control, that he had almost hurt Raven in the worst way possible. He kept saying sorry, getting off of her and refused to look at her. He wanted nothing more than for her to leave before he loses it again.
"You…may leave…if you want. But it's…late and I can…sleep on the couch, if you choose to stay." Tyler looked out of his window. The fast-paced streets of San Francisco did little to hide his guilt. In the reflection of the glass he witnessed Raven fix her dress wordlessly.
"You stopped." Raven said quietly. "You stopped when many would have kept going." She looked at him, her smoldering brown eyes deepening Tyler's shame. She forgave him, a disgusting man that should've had more self-control!
The pregnant pause causes Tyler to bite his lip and stare at Raven with a silent question: What now?
"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have led you on like that," Raven began, fiddling with the hem of her dress. That made Tyler sick; it reminded him of a rape victim justifying the crime.
"It's my fault!" He barked. He then went to his dresser and threw a t-shirt and boxers at her.
"Sleep in here, I'll sleep downstairs." He then slammed the door and jogged downstairs to make the couch his bed for the night.
He wanted to forget tonight, start fresh tomorrow… oh, tomorrow! Tomorrow would be worse! He gave another scream of frustration before snatching pillow and blanket and slept.
The next morning Tyler went upstairs to find his computer when he noticed a lumpy figure in his bed. Memories of last night reflourished and so did the guilt. He should wake her, tell her to leave while she can, but stops himself. She looked beautiful the way she is, sleeping with her hair a mess and her make-up smeared on the pillowcase, revealing her actual face.
Natural, innocent; except, that repulsive hickey on her neck that he gave her.
He gently pushed a strand of hair out of her face before kissing her head and grabbing his art supplies. He had work to do.
"Wow, Mr. Padilla, your artwork is phenomenal," Mrs. Rose, Tyler's art teacher, spoke with praise. Tyler basked in the compliments, especially with the gold-plated Best in Show blue ribbon tacked onto the canvas.
The painting had a large needle injecting a reddish liquid into the vein of a muscular arm making a fist, the vein forming the word love. A smiling Raven, posed seductively, was in the needle of reddish fluid. A well-manicured finger was slowly pushing the needle.
It won an A+, but it left Tyler with a feeling of heartache with the thought of his friendship with Raven ruined after one night.