Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.
CHAPTER SEVEN
REALLY DIRTY AND REALLY WRONG
Jackie giggled into Steven's bare shoulder. He was kissing her neck, pressing heat into her skin, and the short hairs of his beard tickled her. Getting lost in the moment would've been easy, but she opened one eye. Light from the basement filtered into his room. The crack beneath his door was bright; no shadows lurked. They were alone down here.
Her fingers slid into his curly hair. It was unbelievably soft, just as his kisses were tender. He'd probably take his time today if he could, but their predicament called for speed. His arms tightened on her back, and he picked her up.
A thrill shuddered through her body. Being naked with him was like being crowned Snow Prom Queen or winning Miss Dairy Princess, only it wasn't a dream. It was actually happening.
He met her eyes as her legs locked around his waist.. He was smiling, and her heart cartwheeled. No one had ever affected her as much with a smile, but she did her best to hide it. He was cocky enough.
"You're cool with this, right?" he said, supporting her back with one arm. He snatched a condom from his dresser, and she blindly helped him put it on. "You're so light it could actually work."
She was more than ready to try this new position with him. "Steven, shut up and go."
He entered her deftly, without any of Michael's clumsiness. Her breath caught at his deeper presence inside her, but bliss cascaded across every nerve. He seemed to anticipate her every move, blurring the divide between their bodies. She grasped the back of his hair, shut her eyes against his cheek as she hurtled toward delirium. His physical awareness of her was still unnerving, still somewhat unfamiliar, but after today she might not get another chance to get used to it.
Eric, Donna, and Michael were on their way home.
Eric had called Steven fifteen minutes ago from Northbrook, less than an hour from Point Place, and Jackie's pulse had tightened at the information. The basement would become a madhouse if they found out her and Steven's secret … their really dirty and really wrong secret.
They'd spent the last six weeks sneaking around, touching each other whenever—and wherever—they could. She hadn't planned on having sex with him, to go that far. But after nearly a month of fooling around, her body ached for more. Her heart suffered from the same calamity, but he hadn't claimed any emotional connection, and neither did she.
A film of sweat formed on their skin. They'd both become slippery, and her fingers laced over the nape of his neck. The August humidity tended to gather in his room, but it didn't interfere with their intimacy. His eyes were open and focused on her face. They seemed full of appreciation, but of what kind?
"Fuck," he said, "I hate rushin' like this." His movements had grown faster. His fingers dug into her hips as pressure built up between her thighs and, unwelcomely, inside her chest.
Their friends were almost home, but he probably didn't care. He rarely had trouble finding girls to sleep with, and she was just another notch on his belt. She was supposed to be okay with that. He'd warned her he didn't do attachments, and she'd given him a warning back: "After Michael, the last thing I want is to be attached."
The truth, however, scraped her brain, and she grew out of sync with his rhythm. Color had to be draining from her face, giving her a Pinciotti-like paleness.
"Jackie—crap." He adjusted his stance. His muscles visibly strained as he attempted to bring her back into his groove. "You come already?"
Droplets of sweat sparkled in his eyelashes and in his beard. She forced her gaze to the dusty suitcases against the wall. "No, I..."
"What?"
"Is this it, Steven?"
"Is what it?"
"Us, what we're doing."
He stopped moving but remained inside her. "Why?"
"Our friends. Michael—"
"It's none of their damn business."
"Meaning what?"
He chuckled hoarsely, drawing her attention back to his face. "Meaning," he said, "when they're back, we'll just have to be sneakier." A grin spread over his lips, the mischievous kind that made her believe anything was possible. "We managed with Forman moping around the basement. He had no idea we'd screwed on the deep-freeze, even with the Tide we spilled everywhere."
"Steven!" She laughed and slapped his damp shoulder. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to go back to your skank-of-the-week?"
"Easier, yeah, but not as fun." He patted her butt and renewed his efforts to make her feel good. His hips pulled back, and she let out a surprised gasp when they thrust forward. This was the kind of mind-shattering sex she'd read about in Cosmo, but the magazine never explained how to cope with the emotional consequences. She needed all her willpower not to close her eyes and cling to him.
"So..." she said with some effort, "you're having fun with me?"
"Less," he said with a grunt, "when you talk." But he kissed her lips as if he hadn't meant what he'd said, and he hugged her like she mattered to him.
Her willpower was gone. She clutched his body and hid her face in his hair. Tears mingled with the sweat on her face. She was shaking with her release. Crying. She held her breath so he wouldn't notice, another secret to keep. Because he'd become much more than a summer fling to her.
She'd fallen in love with him.
Jackie cleaned up like no other chick Hyde knew. Ten minutes after they were naked, sweaty, and screwing, she was dressed in a shirt-and-skirt combo, looking like he'd never touched her. But, man, did he want to touch her again. It was a growing problem, how much he ached to touch her. But he wasn't Fez or Kelso. He could control his dirty urges, especially when the consequence was scaring her off.
"Okay, Steven," she said, hand flat against his closed door, "we have to set up new ground rules if we're gonna keep this going."
He sat down on his cot and put on his socks. "Or you're not gonna let me outta my room?"
She withdrew her hand and leaned her back against the door. "Is this better?"
"Anyone ever tell ya you're smart ass?" He shoved his right foot into his boot. Heat still clung to his skin. It threatened to break out into beads of sweat, damning evidence of his ... whatever with Jackie. "What're your freakin' rules?"
"We have to act like we repel each other."
"We do repel each other."
"No, I mean like magnets. We have to keep a certain physical distance from each other when our friends are around. Otherwise, they'll get suspicious."
"Got it." He stood up and went to the door and—just to mess with her—palmed her hips. "Like this?"
"Nothing like that." Her fingers hooked over his hands, like she was going to pry them off, but she moved in closer. Her effect on him was immediate. He breathed in her scent, a combination of soap and a spicy, floral perfume. "God, Steven—" her body pressed into his erection, "is this what you want happening in front of everyone?"
"You're blushing." His lips grazed her hot cheek, and he whispered in her ear. "Kinda like it."
"Oh, shut up." She released his hands and pushed him back. "I know how sexy I am. I don't need you for that. Anyway..." She gestured for him to step back further. He obliged and bumped into the Formans' old armchair. "This is the minimum amount of space we should have between us," she said. "Don't broadcast to the whole world how much I turn you on."
"Believe me, no one's gonna have a clue. My blood doesn't hike to my cheeks."
She waved at his belt buckle. "Yeah, it just 'hikes' down there."
"Whatever." He glanced at his watch. Their friends would be here in minutes, but he had to disarm his hard-on. He lowered his face to the armchair and inhaled deeply. The fusty smell shot up his nostrils, softening him up as intended, but it also clogged his throat. He coughed and hit his chest.
"Steven?" Jackie rushed to his side and patted his back. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he said but choked on the word. She continued to pat his back. "I'm fine," he repeated and waved her off, but he wasn't fine. He felt tiny and vulnerable, like plankton floating in the ocean. The current was taking him wherever it willed, and he was powerless against it. "You got anymore rules, or can we get outta here?"
"Just one." She grasped his hand and squeezed it. "We have to start burning each other, like we used to. Our idiot friends haven't noticed we stopped, and they're dumb enough to think we never did."
They'd stopped burning each other? He didn't remember going easy on her, but he must have. Otherwise, she never would've kissed him again.
"Steven, this is really important. You have to be a jerk to me."
"I hear ya. Burn in public; dirty in private." He slung his arm around her shoulders. "It'll be the perfect crime, man."
He grinned at her, and when she grinned back, the ocean current grew stronger. It swept him mercilessly toward his life-long enemy, whose sole purpose was to consume. His body was already being swallowed, but what it really wanted was his heart.
Fortunately, his heart had been cut out the day he was born.
Hyde scored his fifth basket before a familiar honk blasted the Formans' driveway. Kelso must have hit traffic because he was late. Fez scooped up the basketball, but Hyde dragged him back toward the hoop. Kelso's van pulled into the driveway, seemingly none the worse for wear. It had no dents or visible scratches, despite the miles put into it this summer.
"I don't smell the stinky," Fez whispered. "Should I hit the hubcap with the basketball?"
Hyde snatched the basketball and hurled it into the backyard. It was both the last release of pent-up energy he could risk and the signal for Jackie to come outside. She'd been waiting in the Formans' kitchen, watching him and Fez play a round of one-on-one. The game had made him sweat, a good cover for any Jackie-related sweating he might do.
Donna left the van first, duffel bag dangling from her shoulder. "Hyde, Fez!" she said, but high heels clacked on the pavement as Jackie rushed toward her.
"You feathered your hair!" Jackie shrieked, and Hyde winced at her voice. She shoved Donna's duffel bag aside and pulled her into a hug.
Discomfort twisted Donna's mouth, but otherwise she looked good. Good as in happy. Her pale skin had tanned, and her cheeks were rosy. The California sun was responsible for the first, but the second had to be from her reconciliation with Forman.
"I expected you to be completely sunburned," Jackie said while giving Donna a once-over. Hyde tried to filter out the conversation, but his filter was busted. So when Forman stepped out of the van, Hyde did the first thing that came to mind: he yanked Forman into a hug, the one allotted to him a year.
"Welcome back, man," Hyde said, but his gaze landed on Jackie. She was standing a few feet back with Donna, and a smile brightened her face. That smile was for him, and despite his attempts at emotional distance, his lips twitched up.
"Thanks," Forman said. "Oh, and thanks again for the ticket."
"No problem." Hyde let him go with a pat to the back and trained his cheerful expression on him. No one would suspect its actual origin, and the thought widened Hyde's grin. Digging Jackie's company was like hiding in plain sight. Their friends' lack of expectation made them blind.
"So my folks have no idea I was gone?" Forman said.
"No idea," Hyde said, but it was a lie. Forman was in deep shit with his parents, thanks to Jackie's big mouth, but why ruin a potentially badass burn? "You're golden."
The van's side door slammed closed. Kelso had finally emerged, with a backpack falling off one shoulder. He dragged the backpack's strap back into place and squeezed himself between Donna and Jackie. Donna stepped aside, but Jackie acted like he wasn't even there. She was playing cool, and Hyde had to do the same.
Hey!" Hyde said to Kelso, with just enough enthusiasm, and did something he hadn't done in years: embraced him. He was actually happy to see the guy, but kernels of guilt popped in his stomach.
"Hyde, you sure you wanna be hugging him?" Forman said. "You don't know where he's been this summer."
"Eric," Donna said. The edge in her voice mirrored Forman's. The drive back from California had taken a few days. Maybe being cooped up in Kelso's van that long had caused trouble.
Hyde released Kelso and said, "What's that about?"
Kelso shrugged, mumbling the equivalent of, "I don't know." Spending two months in California had tanned his skin and lightened his hair, but Hyde doubted if anything deeper had changed.
He glanced over Kelso's shoulder at Jackie. Her face was impassive, but her thoughts weren't hard to discern. Kelso's van had gained over four-thousand miles this summer. In a different city filled with different girls, how much mileage had his dick gotten? Hyde intended to ask, but Kelso scratched Hyde's facial hair affectionately and said, "You got a beard! You look so old!"
"Of course I look old, man. I partied more than you, worked more, drank more, and slept with way more chicks." Hyde made himself yawn. "I'm exhausted, man."
Bravado. He was lying out his ass. He'd slept with one chick, Jackie. He'd begun drinking less because of her. He worked as much as he always did, meaning a two-hour nap at the Fotohut. As for partying, he had no one to party with. Jackie wasn't an option, due to the nature of their … whatever. Forman had been too depressed over Donna. And Fez's host parents kept Fez chained to the house at night, thanks to an incident with dead fish.
"Strange things can happen over a summer," Forman said. "Guys and gals putting ketchup on their ice cream, building sandcastles with their noses, sleeping with people they never thought they'd sleep with." He fanned himself theatrically. "I think it must be the heat."
Hyde's spine stiffened, and his gaze shot to Jackie again. Her eyes were wide with terror. Had Forman caught them before he left? Was he putting the screws to them now, as a welcome-home present to himself?
"Don't listen to him," Donna said. "He was out in the sun too long. He's suffering from heat stroke." She tugged on Forman's arm. "Let's go to your mom. She's a nurse. She'll—"
"Enough talk," Fez said. "Where are my reunion hugs, you sons of bitches?"
Kelso opened his arms wide, shouting, "Fez! My little man!" but Hyde turned toward the garage. Ivy had crept over the siding during the summer, just like Jackie had crept over him. Messing around with her had messed him up, but he wasn't about to stop. He hadn't been this turned on in his life.
He pressed a hand to his stomach. Of all chicks, Jackie freakin' Burkhart was the one he couldn't quit thinking about. It made him queasy, and he turned back to the driveway. Jackie had pulled Donna to the porch, maybe to distract her from Forman's insinuation, but Hyde wouldn't let himself be blackmailed.
"Forman," he said, "you got somethin' you wanna say, say it."
Jackie glared at Hyde. "Steven, no one wants to hear what Eric has to say."
"Yeah," Donna said. "He—"
The kitchen's glass door slid open. Mrs. Forman, Red, and Bob marched onto the porch, clearly ready to rumble. Donna approached her dad with open arms and shouted, "Hi, Daddy!"
"Don't you 'Hi, Daddy!' me," Bob said, but his voice softened. "Although it does feel good to hear those words again."
Red frowned. "Bob."
"Right." Bob jabbed a finger at Donna: "You're in big trouble, young lady! Now get home. Now! Move!"
She put her head down, and Bob half-followed, half-ushered her to their yard.
Hyde leaned against the back Kelso's van and waited. Red and Mrs. Forman were glowering at Forman, and Forman spouted some weird crap at them. It was a pathetic and entertaining attempt to convince them he hadn't been in California. Hyde would've let it go on, but the trigger had to be pulled sometime.
"Oh, hey," he said, and Forman glanced back at him, "they know."
Red pointed to the kitchen, and when Forman didn't budge, a mixture of fury and sadness overtook Mrs. Forman's face. "Eric, what do you have to say for yourself?" she said.
Forman placed his hands over his heart. "I brought you a seashell."
Red shut his eyes. "Just get in the house!"
Forman lowered his head like Donna had, but he was smirking. He shuffled past his parents, and Mrs. Forman said, "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"
"Oh, yeah..." he lifted his head, "and it was worth it."
Forman disappeared into the house, and Red shouted, "For the love of God!" before he and Mrs. Forman went inside. Forman wasn't off the hook, not by a long shot. But maybe his punishment would provide the the out Hyde and Jackie needed.
"Kelso," Fez said and clapped his hands twice, "you must tell me of all your conquests this summer. Are the girls in California like the songs say?"
"Better." Kelso said. "Hop in the van. I'll tell you all about 'em."
Hyde busied himself in the garage until Kelso and Fez drove away. Then he joined Jackie at the Formans' backyard fence. They were alone, but for how long?
"Steven..." she tugged on the hem of his shirt, "we're in trouble."
"No, we're not." He counted off on his fingers. "First, we're not doin' anything wrong. Second, Forman knows shit. He was just flappin' his gums. He probably does have heat stroke. Third, we can quit foolin' around if ya want. Find someone more your style, or go back to Kelso—"
"No!" Her hands slipped under his shirt and glided up his stomach. Outwardly, he didn't react, but her touch traveled through his nerves, electrifying every part of him. "What I mean is..." she sighed and removed her hands from his skin. "Michael probably slept with half of California—before he even got my breakup letter. He's disgusting, and I'm..."
Her eyes flicked left then right. Hyde did the same. No one was in the driveway or the backyard. They were still alone, and she cupped his cheeks. "I'm having fun with you," she whispered, "but if you want our fling to end with the summer, then—"
He answered by kissing her. The current in his body sparked and stank of ozone. The smell was imaginary, but the sickness it caused was very real. Dropping her would be the right thing to do, for his sanity, for her reputation. For their friends. But he deepened the kiss, causing her to tap his shoulders. He'd gone too far; they were in public, but the second he pulled away, she pulled him back in.
He definitely had to drop her, but once their lips parted, he grabbed her hand. "I got no time limit on this thing," he said and led her into the backyard. "Long as it's fun for the both of us, who cares?"
"So we're gonna keep this up while we're in school?"
"Why not?" They reached the stairs to the basement, and he quit holding her hand as they climbed down. It was a precaution. If Forman tried to sneak out, if he spotted them touching, they were made. "I know plenty of places to fuck in school and not get caught."
She laughed quietly. "So do I..." Her eyes half-closed, and her voice grew husky. "This is gonna be so wrong. And so hot."
"Hot as hell." He hooked his arm around her waist. His restraint eroded whenever she spoke like that. They were more than halfway down the stairs, but his mouth descended onto her neck. He teased the flesh below her ear, and his pulse hammered his skull, as if his whole body were throbbing.
She tapped his shoulders, harder than before. "Stop."
He straightened up, and his arm fell from her waist. She never had to tell him twice, but maybe he'd crossed a line this time. "Sorry."
"You should be sorry. You're turning me on, and if you keep going, we'll end up doing it right here."
"Yeah, see, I don't operate that way." He got in front of her and climbed the rest of the stairs. "I can keep it in my pants."
Her heels clacked after him. "What are you talking about?" Then, with a surprising amount of force, she shoved him against the retaining wall. "Are you implying I have no self-control?" Her hips pressed into him. "Because, I promise you, I have plenty of control."
She ground into him subtly, and his blood rushed south. "I thought you didn't want us to get caught," he said.
"Why, Steven?" Her movements grew more obvious, and his body responded accordingly. "Can't keep it in your pants?"
He sure as hell didn't want to, but he clenched his fists and said, "We both know who's the instigator here. If I'm going down, I'm takin' you with me. Any Li'l Miss Innocent act you pull won't work."
"Mm-hmm, and you look really innocent." She backed off and undid his fly, quicker than he could react. "Exhibit A."
"Proves nothin'." But his erection was fully evident, and he zipped up his jeans. "How about Exhibit B?" He nodded at her chest. Her nipples were poking through the material of her shirt.
She covered her breasts and gaped at him. "I'm cold!"
"It's over seventy-degrees out."
"And I'm used to ninety."
He smirked. "Nice try."
"Exhibit C—" she said, but he moved past her to the basement door. He clutched the door knob, but she jumped onto his back. Her arms looped around his shoulders, and her knees pressed just above his butt. "Exhibit C," she repeated, "you're too cocky for your own good."
"That makes two of us." He reached behind himself and glided his fingers into her hair. They'd been playing a game, seeing how far they could push each other. "But round two'll have to wait."
"You mean round three." She slipped off him, and her heels hit the pavement. "Because I totally won round two."
"Whatever," he said and opened the door. He peeked inside, but the basement was empty. "Let's go watch the tube. Think The Price Is Right is on."
"Oh, God," she said with a giggle, rousing his life-long enemy: love. It laughed with her as he entered the basement and showed him his heart, whole and beating.
