Title: Granted.
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty,
Author: Rachel
Email:
Category: WWE
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves
Distribution: Ask please
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003
Notes: Fourth part in a diva series
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.
Summary: A diva thinks about her unrequited love.
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)
It's not his fault, I know it seems like it is. I can hear the girls in the locker room telling me that I shouldn't let myself be used like I am; I suppose that's why none of them know about this. But I'm not being taken advantage of, I agreed to this. Really, it's my fault for not being able to handle it.
It's my fault for falling in love with him.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but that doesn't change what is. It started as one night, one night in his arms. He was a friend, a good friend who'd had his heart broken, he wanted comfort and I saw no problem in giving it to him. Well, I saw no problem back then anyway.
He was always a sweetheart, the kind of guy who wanted nice girls but couldn't seem to get them. I'd like to say that's changed, that since this whole thing started he's morphed into an absolute asshole, but I can't. He's still as nice and sweet as the day I met him, maybe even more so. He's never told a soul about what goes on between us, completely respects me and my privacy. The real issue is he's a man, not much I can do about that.
Well, not really.
Things aren't complicated for us, or at least not for him, but I wouldn't call our relationship causal. He's so relaxed around me when we're in front of other people, no awkward moments, no uncomfortable touches, nothing. Something that strangely contradicts the lover I know he can be. When we're alone, everything falls away and he becomes the most passionate man I've ever met, every look, touch, kiss and caress done with a purpose to evoke an emotion or feeling. I could die from the smoky look he gets in his eyes, I've never had anyone look at me the way he does. When we finish, he stays or sometimes he goes, but either way by morning we're back to being friends again, companions, buddies.
We will always be friends, problem is, I want something more.
It was just supposed to be sex that was the agreement. It wasn't supposed to interfere with our lives, and it doesn't. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, but I did. That's my hangup it seems. I was doing so well for so long. Our meeting went from weekly to nightly, he studied my body; painting kisses like an artist to a canvas. No one knows me that way better than him, everything from the birthmark on the inside of my right thigh, to the scar on my elbow from falling down when I was twelve, to where they made the incision when I had ankle surgery a year ago. He could draw you a map.
It occurred to me one day that he doesn't just like sex; he likes women. He enjoys being with them, feeling their every curve to find where it goes. Tasting each inch of skin to find out how flavors vary on different parts of her body, my body. I've heard men like this, men who love women, make the best lovers. Whoever the hell said it wasn't lying.
It's because of all this that I love him, because he's explored me beyond what any other man has done. Because I feel like I could drown just by looking in his lust filled eyes. Because he has shown me what a lover truly is. Because of the way he smiles and the way he laughs. Because of the way he fidgets with his choker when he's thinking or the way his hair is mussed in the morning. Because of his obsession with hockey, and how his fingers always find their way into my hair whenever we're together. For every single one of these things, plus million more; he's my friend, my lover and I love him.
If only it were that simple.
I look up at the sound of the door; the object of my affection has walked into the room. He's wearing jeans that make his butt look way too good and tank top that shows off his muscled arms and the tattoo on his shoulder. He takes his sunglasses off when he enters the room, giving me a glimpse of the smiling blue eyes underneath.
"Hey Darlin'." he says. He's always called me that, but still, it makes me wanna melt into a puddle when he does that. Kill me.
"Hey," I sound normal, as I always do.
"We still on for tonight?" he asks, dropping his bag and bending over the get something out of it. His jeans tighten against his ass and I almost forget the question.
"Yeah," I manage, "unless you have something else to do."
He looks up at me with a chuckle, "Nope Darlin', just you and me." He smiles teasingly, and if I wasn't so used to it I'd likely be blushing right now. "I got asked out today."
I arch an eyebrow at him, "Not surprising, you're a very attractive man," I tell him, as if he needs reminding. And still he has the decency to blush. "So what did you say?" I should probably be freaked out by this but I already know the answer.
"Nah, I'm just not ready yet." he says it every time or some version of it. He's not ready for a relationship, with anyone. I can't say I blame him either; he got burned the last time, found his ex cheating on him. I just wonder when the time comes around will he pick me or someone else?
"Trish, are you okay?" I look back at him with a bright smile.
"I'm fine." I tell him, it's only a half truth, "I have to go get ready for my match, I'll see you later."
He waves as I walk out the door. I heave a sigh once I'm on the other side. I know I could walk up to him and ask for an out to this agreement and he'd give it to me, but I won't do that. I love him too much to give up what part of him I've got. So until Christian comes around I'll live the half life, I'll be the lover and the friend without being the girlfriend, I can do. If only to live for those few moment when I'm the only one he sees, and I can pretend he loves me too.
A/N: Well, that's was nice and angsty, wasn't it?
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty,
Author: Rachel
Email:
Category: WWE
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves
Distribution: Ask please
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003
Notes: Fourth part in a diva series
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.
Summary: A diva thinks about her unrequited love.
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)
It's not his fault, I know it seems like it is. I can hear the girls in the locker room telling me that I shouldn't let myself be used like I am; I suppose that's why none of them know about this. But I'm not being taken advantage of, I agreed to this. Really, it's my fault for not being able to handle it.
It's my fault for falling in love with him.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but that doesn't change what is. It started as one night, one night in his arms. He was a friend, a good friend who'd had his heart broken, he wanted comfort and I saw no problem in giving it to him. Well, I saw no problem back then anyway.
He was always a sweetheart, the kind of guy who wanted nice girls but couldn't seem to get them. I'd like to say that's changed, that since this whole thing started he's morphed into an absolute asshole, but I can't. He's still as nice and sweet as the day I met him, maybe even more so. He's never told a soul about what goes on between us, completely respects me and my privacy. The real issue is he's a man, not much I can do about that.
Well, not really.
Things aren't complicated for us, or at least not for him, but I wouldn't call our relationship causal. He's so relaxed around me when we're in front of other people, no awkward moments, no uncomfortable touches, nothing. Something that strangely contradicts the lover I know he can be. When we're alone, everything falls away and he becomes the most passionate man I've ever met, every look, touch, kiss and caress done with a purpose to evoke an emotion or feeling. I could die from the smoky look he gets in his eyes, I've never had anyone look at me the way he does. When we finish, he stays or sometimes he goes, but either way by morning we're back to being friends again, companions, buddies.
We will always be friends, problem is, I want something more.
It was just supposed to be sex that was the agreement. It wasn't supposed to interfere with our lives, and it doesn't. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, but I did. That's my hangup it seems. I was doing so well for so long. Our meeting went from weekly to nightly, he studied my body; painting kisses like an artist to a canvas. No one knows me that way better than him, everything from the birthmark on the inside of my right thigh, to the scar on my elbow from falling down when I was twelve, to where they made the incision when I had ankle surgery a year ago. He could draw you a map.
It occurred to me one day that he doesn't just like sex; he likes women. He enjoys being with them, feeling their every curve to find where it goes. Tasting each inch of skin to find out how flavors vary on different parts of her body, my body. I've heard men like this, men who love women, make the best lovers. Whoever the hell said it wasn't lying.
It's because of all this that I love him, because he's explored me beyond what any other man has done. Because I feel like I could drown just by looking in his lust filled eyes. Because he has shown me what a lover truly is. Because of the way he smiles and the way he laughs. Because of the way he fidgets with his choker when he's thinking or the way his hair is mussed in the morning. Because of his obsession with hockey, and how his fingers always find their way into my hair whenever we're together. For every single one of these things, plus million more; he's my friend, my lover and I love him.
If only it were that simple.
I look up at the sound of the door; the object of my affection has walked into the room. He's wearing jeans that make his butt look way too good and tank top that shows off his muscled arms and the tattoo on his shoulder. He takes his sunglasses off when he enters the room, giving me a glimpse of the smiling blue eyes underneath.
"Hey Darlin'." he says. He's always called me that, but still, it makes me wanna melt into a puddle when he does that. Kill me.
"Hey," I sound normal, as I always do.
"We still on for tonight?" he asks, dropping his bag and bending over the get something out of it. His jeans tighten against his ass and I almost forget the question.
"Yeah," I manage, "unless you have something else to do."
He looks up at me with a chuckle, "Nope Darlin', just you and me." He smiles teasingly, and if I wasn't so used to it I'd likely be blushing right now. "I got asked out today."
I arch an eyebrow at him, "Not surprising, you're a very attractive man," I tell him, as if he needs reminding. And still he has the decency to blush. "So what did you say?" I should probably be freaked out by this but I already know the answer.
"Nah, I'm just not ready yet." he says it every time or some version of it. He's not ready for a relationship, with anyone. I can't say I blame him either; he got burned the last time, found his ex cheating on him. I just wonder when the time comes around will he pick me or someone else?
"Trish, are you okay?" I look back at him with a bright smile.
"I'm fine." I tell him, it's only a half truth, "I have to go get ready for my match, I'll see you later."
He waves as I walk out the door. I heave a sigh once I'm on the other side. I know I could walk up to him and ask for an out to this agreement and he'd give it to me, but I won't do that. I love him too much to give up what part of him I've got. So until Christian comes around I'll live the half life, I'll be the lover and the friend without being the girlfriend, I can do. If only to live for those few moment when I'm the only one he sees, and I can pretend he loves me too.
A/N: Well, that's was nice and angsty, wasn't it?