*ahem*  I know it took quite a while for me to get this to you guys, and I hope you think its worth the wait.  This chapter's actually a bit of a dark departure—since I'm not giving anything away, all I can say is expect violence, blood, pain, and um…yeah.

Trembling—Chapter 6

"Ain't you got better things to do?"  Laine growled at an overly made up Greaser blonde who happened to be blocking the entry door to the Dingo.  Frowning, the buxom woman carelessly tossed yellowish hair from her neck and lowered her head to get a better look at Laine.  The latter scoffed irately at the black roots visibly growing from the woman's scalp. 

"Sweetie, ain't ya…" 

Tuning out to whatever it was the woman had to say, Laine morosely made her way up the bleachers—the best place at the Drive-In in which to be ignored.  She scanned the crowd apprehensively, yearning—though at the same time dreading—the sight of a white-blond head.

Laine sighed as she struggled to find a comfortable position on the hard metallic bleacher.  She hadn't even brought jacket along to use as a pillow.  The way things had been going, Laine had actually been planning on spending the night at the Drive-In, but if she was going to have to sleep against such a hard surface…oh hell—what was wrong with her?! 

The movie wasn't even all that enjoyable.  Usually, when Dally was around, they would spend half the time fooling around and the other half harassing those around them.  Going alone just wasn't as enthralling.  Laine shrugged.  All those good times at the Dingo had made her think the place was what she enjoyed…and all this while…all this while it had been his presence.  Her shoulders sagged a bit uncharacteristically as she closed her eyes and remembered the last time she had been with Dallas romantically. 

She nearly growled when she recalled it had been right before he'd gone into a furious rage.  Dallas sure was a character.  He thought everything and anything worked for him and only to please him.  Laine scowled.  How'd she ever end up involved with him anyway….?  And then…there was his other side.  The one she'd neglected to take note of earlier in their relationship. 

Laine shook her head.  Relationship?  There was no relationship…and as far as she was concerned, it was for the better.  Dallas was just too possessive—too ready to instigate…always too sensual.  Yes, sensual.  He had the most insatiable libido at times—it was mind-boggling—and always seemed to be hit with desire at the most inappropriate of places.  Not that Laine had minded…all the practice he'd apparently had in earlier years had most certainly made him a formidable opponent in the sack.  Of course, on that same note, he had always been a bit selfish when it came to who was being pleasured…He always came first—his necessities before hers.  Laine hadn't minded.  After all, she'd grown up in that atmosphere; and it was most certainly worth it—pleasuring him, that is—because it ensured a positively mind-blowing reciprocation on his part in reward. 

Laine sighed.

Had she always been so fascinated with sex?  Laine shook her head.  Granted she had been curious—and despite her age had already had her share of lovers—but until meeting Dally, Laine had never really put much thought into it.  But, Glory!  He made her burn sometimes; his eyes were enough for her to know how much he needed release.  He would stare at her, icy blue eyes half-shut, mouth open in an unconscious pout in an attempt to draw in air, and that stare sent shivers down her spine, because she knew what it implied—because she'd been with him enough times before to know how good it would feel when they finally managed to go at each other—when they would finally escape from wherever they where and touch, and grope, and…

"Laine?" 

Startled out of her daydream, Laine lifted her gaze to meet emerald colored eyes.  She shook her head and blinked briskly, her chest rising and falling quickly at the sudden desire brewing within her.  Swallowing thickly, she finally let her eyes rest on the person who had called her out of her reverie.  And thankfully so…otherwise I'd be up to my neck wantin' Dallas…

( *  *  * )

At first she had rejected the idea, but the moment she stepped through the doors of Two-Bit's house and into a raging party, Laine wondered how she would have wasted the evening had she not been coaxed by the funny-man himself to attend.  It had been a spur of the moment idea, she guessed, eyeing the gathering crowd suspiciously.  They didn't look familiar at all. 

"How'd you…"

Two-bit smiled and waved his hands before Laine even had a chance to finish, "Ain't important, babe, thing is, this here—" Two-Bit waved his arm lazily about him, "—is gonna keep me busy for tonight…"

Laine felt the corners of her lips unwillingly twitch.  He certainly was right there…  A distraction was exactly what she needed—much more if it involved a roomful of drunk, sexy Greasers. 

She had been so troubled lately that losing her sobriety was quite a blessing.  It happened a lot for her, getting drunk.  Laine'd stopped caring about what would happen to her or where she would wake up in the morning a long time ago.  She frowned.  Out of nowhere the memory of Dallas maneuvering a bottle of beer from her hands came into mind.  He had always made sure she didn't drink all that much…always taken her to Buck's room if she got out of hand…

But that wasn't important now…Laine waved the mental image away carelessly.  It wasn't important…it didn't matter…the only thing that mattered…The only thing that mattered was the pair of tight arms encircled about her waist, tugging her closer and closer…Laine took another swig out of the bottle in her hand and let herself be pulled. 

She couldn't see anymore.  But she could feel…She could feel Dally's hands toying with the zipper of her skirt—running his fingers over her breasts—his manhood hardening against her thigh…she could feel him…except, it wasn't really Dally…

Laine blinked her eyes open once again, and swayed slightly on the spot.  It was hard to dance when she felt dizzy at every slight movement…The man before her took a lengthy drag on whatever it was he was smoking and tossed it casually behind him, using his newly freed hand to fondle her chest.  Laine frowned at the thought that the man could ever be Dallas.  For one, he had jet-black hair that was cut short and quite greased.  Laine's frown deepened.  She didn't like the feeling of grease against her fingertips—it was so…sticky.  Dally had never used grease.  She liked that about him…she could always touch his hair without recoiling at the tacky mess her hand would be afterwards…

For another, Dally never smoked if he was going to kiss her…which she could tell the man was getting ready to do.  Dallas knew she hated the taste of cigarettes…so he never smoked if he was planning on being with her later on.  Growling, Laine tried to shrug off all thoughts of Dallas, but the alcohol in her system wasn't as conceding.  In fact, it seemed quite content with conjuring up an image of him in place of the man crushing her to his torso.  Dallas…?

Closing her eyes, Laine fell willingly into the arms of the man, taking in a shallow breath as his fingertips snaked down past her bellybutton.  Laine winced at the sudden nibble at her earlobe, not particular to being kissed in that area, and growled in disapproval.  Unfortunately, the man took the slight rumble as a sign of encouragement and gave a sharp bite to her ear.  Laine gave an abrupt start.  Dallas…what are you doin'?  You know I ain't like it when you kiss me there…

Though internally her thoughts were hazily muddled, her body was more than willing to accept the ministrations being presented to it.  Unconsciously, she arched her back against him, hips grinding mercilessly against the boy's groin.  Quite quickly, they had gone from dancing, to near foreplay. 

Another swig and the bottle was empty…

Laine whimpered vulnerably against the boy's chest at feeling his fingertips finally make their way underneath her shirt.  Drawing in a rather ragged breath, she closed her eyes and pressed a sweaty forehead against his neck.  Her eyebrows prickled at the sudden scent that struck her.  Smoke and beer…Dally never smelled liked that…he was always herbs and spices—his smell was always muskier—manlier…

"Hurry up," she suddenly found herself urging, her tone small and desperate.  She needed release before her senses returned…before she was fully aware that the person touching her wasn't Dallas; she wanted one last time with him—one more touch from him…and, if she could—if she could just imagine it was him touching her, then…

Just a little bit more…

Laine let out a muffled cry when the man's fingertips roughly nipped the surface of her breasts, his touch suddenly becoming hard and violent.  She tried to ignore it at first, thinking it had been a slip on his part, when it happened again.  As he kissed her, his teeth dug deeply into her lower lip, and she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood.  Trying to pull away, Laine felt the bile rise in her throat as his tongue thrust in and out of her mouth, the taste of smoke clear on his lips. 

It didn't stop there, during their earlier touching, the two had drifted apart slightly, so that he could hold and caress her body more freely, but now…now she was pressed firmly and forcefully against his masculine chest, the extent of his desire evident in the hardening bulge of manhood she could feel crushed against her thigh.  Laine wanted desperately to push him away—tell him she couldn't breathe with him holding onto her so tightly, but her voice was a low croak, easily lost within the loud, blasting music. 

She wouldn't normally take things so seriously—an unnecessary squeeze, kiss or touch—she was used to that…but this, this was different.  She wasn't just uncomfortable anymore, she felt as if she were truly suffocating.  A sense of terror filled her every pore.

When she finally succeeded in pulling away, the man wrenched her back ferociously, suckling hurtfully against her neck.  All previous desire had fled from her body, and she was more than aware of the situation she was in.  In a move very much unlike her, Laine blinked back terrorized tears, lower lip quivering in thought of what was going to happen.  She'd heard awful stories from a lot of people—from Evie…even Sylvia the one time she had talked to her—but, it had never happened to her.  She had always managed to turn the situation around…always managed to get pleasure out of the situation…Laine had always turned a nonconsensual sexual advance into a mutual pleasuring—but now…now the tears prickled against her eyelashes and she had no where to go…

Amidst her panic, Laine was aware that the man was leading her away from the dance floor and into a hallway.  Her heart stopped.  God…no one's gonna see me in there—and, if he's taking me to a bedroom…

Her suspicions correct, Laine was roughly thrust into a room, her lack of coordination causing her to land flat on her butt.  In front of her, she saw the door being closed and a pair of jeans being discarded.  Drawing in a deep breath, Laine closed her eyes as the man, now crawling on all fours towards her, pushed her gruffly against the rotting wood of the floor in one of the Matthew's rooms. 

It would be easy, Laine tried to convince herself.  She'd done it many times…make him think she wanted him—and that way, he'd let up on the assertiveness, letting her take part in the situation as well…

"On the bed," she managed to breathe out, struggling to get her voice from the painful croak it was and into a breathy moan.  That would be all the more convincing. 

"It's faster here," came the response, "you wanted me to hurry it up, ain't ya?"

Laine cursed her earlier, drunk persona.

"But," she had finally managed to find that airy tone she'd been looking for, "it hurts here…and," as he rubbed himself against her once again, Laine input a groan for good measure.  As soon as he'd ease up, everything would change and—

"I like it when it hurts.  Dig, baby?"  Laine's eyes widened at the remark.  Not only had his words scared her, but his eyes had blazed malevolently at her as he spoke.  

I like it when it hurts.

"But—"  Laine was silenced by a warning glare.

"Shut ya're trap or I ain't—"

"Ain't what?" she countered bravely—perhaps stupidly, and then, "I ain't gonna shut up 'til—"

All words were robbed from her lips when a hard hand contacted heavily against the side of her left cheek, stinging her face and numbing all sensation to that side of her face.  "Shut ya're trap, hear?"

Laine had to blink a few times to get her eyes into focus again, and when she did, the tears gathering in them proved her earlier effort in vain.  Her cheek hurt…

Lifting an unconscious hand to her face in reflex, Laine cringed when another smack struck her heartily, this time against the flesh of her other cheek.  Her face burned and stung, and all she wanted to do was rub at it, but she was afraid…afraid that he would slap her if she tried to…

"And if ya're gonna talk—it better be cause ya're screamin' in pain."

Suddenly, her hands were above her head, wrists painfully gathered together at the whim of the boy's strength.  The fact that her hands were rendered useless made it all the more despairing.  She couldn't fight him off—not with her small frame.  Fifteen years was too little in experience of self-defense…too little of a body to fight off anything...  Laine had always relied on her wits—her attitude to get her out of a situation, but…

Swinging her legs wildly, Laine tried to kick at her aggressor, knowing full well that a hit in the groin would render him useless for at least a couple of seconds.  But he saw her attempt before her foot was even close to him, and easily thwarted any further endeavors by straddling her hips with his knees.  Laine gasped at the pain the motion produced and tried, albeit a bit ridiculously, to buck him off with her hips.  The man laughed off her attempts. 

"Fiery, ain't ya, doll?"  the comment came coupled with an unappreciated lick of her face.   Laine felt as if she would hurl at any given moment.  The fact that she could feel him more easily, his pants having been discarded moments earlier only made her feel worse, as his arousal was now snugly pressed against her abdomen.

God…

When a sharp tug was given to her skirt, Laine felt a coldness sweep over her.  Down by her knees, the constricting leather only helped to further restrain her against escape.  The man was quick to work off her top as well, lips eagerly ravaging every inch that was set free. 

Please…

Laine drew in a slow, broken breath and let the tears she'd been holding back fall uncontrollably down her bruised cheeks.  She wouldn't get out of this…She could already feel his hands undoing the fastenings on her bra—could feel his greedy hands cupping the naked flesh, cradling it…hurting it.

Don't let it happen…

His hands dipped lower with every passing second, and Laine found she had no more energy to fight with.  Why bother?  He was bigger, stronger…in control…

Please…

His mouth, his disgusting, vile mouth found its way to the inside of her thighs…

I don't…want…