Encounter Chapter 2: Can you feel the beat?
Author's Note: Thanks a bunch to those of you who have read and reviewed, I adore you more than I can express…I hope you enjoy this!
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
The kiss seemed to go on forever. A chilling sensation spread through her body and then as he pressed deeper into her mouth, the sparks began to erupt up her arms, in the pit of her stomach, in her chest. Her heart was racing as he kissed her like he always had, like his life depended on it, like he needed her lips against his own. Whether out of lust, or love, or even anger, his kisses were always urgent, like he had no choice.
His right arm fell from the wall to find its way to her waist, snaking around her tiny frame to draw her in closer to him. She sighed a little, dizzy with the kissing, falling into the thick goodness of the feeling, and it made him moan to hear her voice so breathless. His hand found the hem of her shirt and pushed it away to touch the smooth skin of her back, she felt electricity burning her from each of his strong finger tips.
And then her mind woke up with a snap. And she realized who she was kissing, how she was kissing, why she was kissing. And the familiar anger that only Steven Hyde could ignite in her began to burn, burn, burn hotter than the kisses.
She pushed his hand back down. She shut the pleasuring sparks off. And as he noticed her tensing up, and pulled away in question, he caught that her eyes had a fire-blue glare set to them.
"This won't happen again." Her voice was thin and sharp and it made him shiver in contrast to the heat radiating off his skin everywhere they'd been touching. And it made him crazed-mad.
And it might have been the liquor mingling with his blood stream and it may have been the fact that he hated being told how things were going to be, but for someone reason the only thing Steven Hyde could say to that was an angry, "BullShit."
And she let out a high pitched squeal of surprise as his lips crashed upon hers again, and then he was picking her up and carrying her into his room.
Flashback, 3 weeks prior
Jackie is seated at the Forman's kitchen table as Fez stands at the counter beside Kitty, stealing tastes of the thick, chocolate brownie mix she's making. Jackie's eyes are hollow, staring at nothing in particular, looking as if she could fade away…
"So, Jackie honey, how long will you be gone for?"
Snapping to attention at the sound of her name, Jackie looks wearily at Mrs. Forman as she answers, "Just a few weeks. My mom can't offer me anything more permanent, but a few weeks away is better than nothing."
Fez's face turns into his classic pout, "I still do not see why you cannot just stay with me and let me help you get your mind off of things. Your mother is a boozing whore, Fez can love you better."
Jackie gave a sad smile to her friend, "I know you can Fezzy and I really am sorry, but I just need to breathe and I can't do that here, not with Steven around all the time. I thought I could, but I was just fooling myself. I'm not strong enough to stand the looks, the insults. I need this."
"We understand, dear. And we're very sorry. This isn't how things are supposed to be. And Steven will figure that out, sooner or later." Mrs. Forman smiled slightly, trying to comfort the broken looking girl in front of her.
"Knowing Steven, later. Way later. Probably too late later." Jackie sighed heavily. Things used to be much simpler. Or at least, things used to hurt a lot less. She pushed her hands against the table to stand and giving sad smiles, she hugged Fez and Mrs. Forman goodbye and headed out of the sliding door.
Barging into his room off of the basement he placed Jackie on the bed, roughly enough so she knew he was angry, gently enough so as not to hurt her. Oh the layers that existed in every touch they shared. He went back and shut the door, locking it loudly, and turned to face her not sure himself what he was planning to do next.
He was fuming. Jackie could tell. The signs were all there, the dramatic heaving of his shoulders due to his sharp intakes of breath, his fists clenching tightly at his sides, loosening a bit only to tighten again. His eyes were wildly darker than the usual crystal blue and if she wasn't so angry herself she would have been smart enough to be scared.
"What the hell do you think you are doing, Steven Hyde! You've been a lot of things before, a drunk, a burnout, a thief, a liar. Don't tell me now that you plan on adding assault to your list of sins. Or maybe you've been mingling with the low so long now you've lost all sight of how decent people handle things."
He laughed at her, out loud and spitefully. "Jackie, you may have been raised in a big house with plenty of nice things. But your father's in prison and your mother is a slut. You don't know any more about the dealings of decent people than a whore off the street."
She stumbled back for a moment, truly shocked at his cruelty. And as her own anger subsided, just for a moment, she wondered just what had driven him to this point. Where he not only chose, but enjoyed, hurting her deeply. But the wonder faded, the rage regained its strength, and she stood up off the bed and looked him in the eyes.
"If I'm no better than a whore, it is because you made me that way. You're dirt, Steven. You drag down. With your nurses and your strippers and your refusal to want anything good or real out of life. You pulled me down to your level. And I was stupid enough to let you. But not anymore. I would have been wasted on you. Enjoy Samantha, Steven. You deserve each other. "
And with one extended damning stare into the angry eyes of the man she loved, Jackie walked back into the basement. Leaving before she could see the start of his tears.