tagNonConsent/ReluctanceJaime and Chris Ch. 01

Jaime and Chris Ch. 01

byafternightpersonality©

He was angry; he turned away from me and strode into the living room. I followed and watched him sink down onto the couch and cradle his head in his hands. He was breathing deeply, and I knew he was trying to calm down.

"I didn't come here to fight," I said from the doorway. "Don't be angry with me."

He rose up from his crouched position with his elbows still on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. "You should go," he said, his words clipped and his jaw ticking in time with his anger.

But I wasn't leaving this time. This is what always happened when I approached him about his accident, and I was sick of him not dealing with it. I watched as he leaned back on the plush headrest and closed his eyes, his hands resting on either side of him, palms up. I knew he could hear me crossing the room; my skirt was swishing around my legs, and my heels made slight clunking noises, but I also knew that his senses weren't acute enough yet to know exactly where I was going. I saw his body stiffen as he heard me stop beside him.

"Chris," he said tiredly, "just go. I can't conjure up the energy to argue with you anymore today. It's exhausting."

I knew he was tired. So was I. It had been a long week for both of us. He had been having sight therapy lessons all week, and I had been working during the day and coming over every night to visit him. We were both exhausted.

But what I need most is not rest, I thought to myself. I need a man. Geez, even in my mind, that sounded lame. Hey, the truth hurts, babe, I thought. I had plans to take care of that need later, but first, I needed to get Jaime to stop feeling sorry for himself. I wasn't a patient person, and dealing with his self-pity was wearing on me. Anger was the only other reaction I could get from him, so if that's what it took "here goes, I thought.

"You know what," I said, "that's fine. You just sit here, and I'll call the doctor and tell him to send over a nurse for poor Jaime, the invalid."

That did it. He had closed his eyes when he laid back, but now they shot open, as if he could still see me and wanted to be sure I saw how angry he was. "I'm not an invalid, damnit!" He reached his hand up and grabbed my arm in a hard grip. "Now get out!" he said as he shoved me toward the door.

He stood up and started toward the front door himself; I'm sure to shove me out of it. The room had been rearranged after his accident so that he would be able to get around easy, so he went straight to the door without any mishaps. It's a good thing, too, because he would just have been more pissed off if that had happened.

I started toward the door. I wouldn't feel so bad about leaving now that he wasn't a useless lump of self-pity anymore. We had been friends for a long time, and I didn't like to think of him that way. He had been such a strong presence - a take-charge kind of guy - before the accident. It was what women loved about him. He hadn't been with anyone since the accident, though. He wouldn't talk to me about it, but I knew it was because he wouldn't have anyone feel sorry for him. I don't know what he was thinking, considering that he was just as gorgeous now as he had been before. Nothing had changed in that aspect. Tall, dark, and handsome - that was Jaime. He'd always been able to get any girl he wanted. He still could as far as I was concerned. But he didn't want them, it seemed. Oh well. It was his loss. I wasn't going to miss out on my possible chance to get laid just because he was in another of his moods. I was out of there.

"Look," I said, "just try to have a good night, ok. I'll see you tomorrow."

I leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as I reached for the door. That's when he surprised me. His hand came up and grabbed my arm again, but this time his grip was really painful.

"Where are you going?" he asked. I could tell where this was leading. We went through this every once in a while.

"It's Friday night, Jaime," I said with an agitated sigh. "I'm going out, just like I always do on Friday nights. And you're not one of my brothers, so don't lecture me on it. I'm a grown woman."

I felt his grip tighten slightly, and I gasped, because he was really beginning to hurt me. He seemed to be thinking out loud when he said, "You know what? You're right. I am sick of arguing with you about it. But I've had second thoughts about you leaving." He had maneuvered me so that my back was to the door and he was standing in front of me. His grip on my arm hadn't loosened, so I started to pull away from him as I said, "You're hurting me, Jaime."

"Well, well, Chris, are you starting to think you might have pissed me off one too many times with your pushing?" He leaned against me, pressed me up against the door and growled into my ear, "Scared?"

"Jaime, you're being ridiculous. Let me go. I have a date," I said. I was half-laughing, but he was scaring me. I mean, he'd never been so aggressively angry before.

He was also pissing me off quite a bit. I wasn't some little girl that he could push around, and he knew me well enough to know that. "Get off, Jaime, now!" I said as I forced my hands between us and shoved. He didn't move an inch. He was big guy, but I don't guess I had ever really thought about how much taller and stronger he was than me. It wasn't as if I was a lightweight or anything. I mean, I was only 5' tall, but at a size 18, I certainly wasn't a stick person who couldn't defend herself. I had certainly never felt threatened by him before. Now I was starting to get scared. All I had managed with my shove was to end up with both of my arms trapped inside of his. With his hands against the door on either side of me and his body pressed up against mine, I had nowhere to go. I tried a different tactic. After all, I did have three big brothers, and I knew how to get my way with them.

"Jaime," I said sweetly, "I'm sorry, really. I just didn't want you to be all depressed when I left. You know me. The only solution I could think of was to make you mad. But you're right. It's not my place. I'm gonna go, but I'll come by tomorrow and we'll do lunch, ok? I really do have to go, though. I'm late."

I thought surely he would let me go then, but he still didn't move. "Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly, leaning in even closer. His voice was raspy and deeper than normal, and I wondered what he was talking about. "Why do go out every weekend as if you were just going to meet someone for dinner, when we both know good and well what you're going for?" His mouth was against my ear by then as he said, "You don't have to go out to get fucked, you know. I'm just as agreeable as any other guy when it comes to fucking you. "'Cause isn't that what you want? It's not like you ever date any of them more than a couple of months. So you obviously don't care who fucks you, right, as long as he's male and has a dick?"

Oh my god, I thought, he's completely lost it! I'd never heard him use language like that, and I'd known him for years. Hell, we'd been best friends for half of our lives. Who was this person? He was still talking, and there was nowhere for me to go. I was so stunned that I just stood there while he maneuvered so that his knee pressed up between my thighs and pushed them open farther. His hands had moved down to circle my wrists, and he pulled my arms out to the sides so that I was completely immobile and his knee rested right up against my crotch.

"J-Jaime, I can't believe you just said that to me," I said, tears coming to my eyes. "What is wrong with you? Please ... let me go. You're scaring me."

"Well, it's about time you were scared of me, I think," he said. "It's about fucking time. You're goddamn right that I'm not one of your brothers. My feelings for you are so far from that it's laughable." But he wasn't laughing as he said it. His mouth was still pressed close to my ear, and I could feel how fast he was breathing since his chest was pressed right up against mine, smashing my breasts painfully.

My brain was working in slow motion at this point. I was stunned, but I was surprised to find that my own breathing had increased. I was panting softly, whether from fear or something else, I didn't know. This was all so strange. He shocked me even more when he said, "And don't think I don't know that you want me too. You've hated every girl I've ever dated, and there's no other reason except that you want me for yourself. Do you think about me ... when you're fucking those other guys ... or when you're alone? Do you think about me touching you ... about me fucking you?" Through my haze of thoughts, I began to realize that, every time he said the word fuck, he ground his knee into me. It wasn't until he said it the last time that I felt myself anticipating it. That's when I realized he was right - about everything. I did want him. I did have dreams about him, even though, at the time, I hadn't realized it was him. There was always just this faceless guy in my dreams who knew everything that I needed and how to cherish me like a friend and a lover. But I never knew it was him, not until just that second. That was when I started to cry for real. Tears rolled down my face in waves, and I began to gasp for breath. That was also when I started to fight back. He was right; I would give him that much, but if he thought he was going to fuck me like I was one of his little part-time girlfriends, he had another thing coming. I wasn't taking that from him.

I tried to pull my arms loose from his grip, but stretched out as they were, I couldn't. I picked both my legs up off the floor, but his knee held me suspended and I couldn't move my lower body either. "Get off of me, you son a bitch!" I said. "I can't believe you would talk to me that way! I'm not one of your little whores. Now, let me go!" I was screaming by this point, bucking against him, trying my best to loosen his hold somehow, but to no avail.

I was still pushing against him when he started moving my arms in an upward arc so that they were both directly above my head. He took them both in one hand, and I was immediately more trapped than I had been before, basically being suspended off the floor by his knee and his grip on my wrists. It hurt, and my struggling wasn't making it feel any better. I stopped moving because my arms felt like they were on fire. His free hand was now grasping the upper part of my tank and pulling it down. "God, how I wish I had done this before," he said raggedly. "Do you know how long I've been wanting to see these tits of yours, Chris? They're fucking famous, you know. Your brothers have been beating up guys for years for talking about their little sister's big DD tits in the locker room and every other place guys gather to talk about sex. And now ... I can't see them. But that's ok, Chris, "'cause I'm going to touch them, and I'm going to taste them. So it'll be almost as good."

He had my tank and bra pulled down now, pushed under my big tits so that they were elevated and the hard nipples were pointing straight into his chest. I could feel the rough fabric of his shirt against me, and I saw his head lean down, his mouth searching for my right nipple like a blind babe first learning to suckle. But I knew, if I let him get that far, I would let him take me, however he wanted. And I also knew that I would be humiliated and heartbroken the next day if I did. So I did the only thing that I knew for sure would make him stop. I told him exactly what he didn't want to hear. I was still crying at that point, but I gathered my breath and said shakily, "Fine. Do what you want. You know, for that matter, you can even let me go. And I won't run. I won't leave. I'll stay here, and I'll fuck you ... because after all, I do feel sorry for you."

As soon as it was out of my mouth, he dropped me. It was so sudden that I fell down on my ass in front of the door. He started backing toward the couch directly behind him and pointed toward the door. "Get the fuck out, and I don't ever want to see you again, you little bitch," he said roughly as he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands; it was the same way he had been sitting when I came in the room earlier.

I sat there on the floor gathering my wits. I don't think he cared one way or another about whether or not I actually left; I knew he heard me not opening and closing the door, but he didn't say anything else. I just sat there, looking at him. He was seated almost directly across from me, and now that he was no longer threatening me, my mind began to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes. It had seemed like eternity, but we'd probably only been standing there for about 10 minutes. I thought back over what he had said and how my body had reacted to him. And I knew he was right. I wanted him. I just hadn't wanted him to force me. He would have felt so terrible about it later that he wouldn't have been able to look at me, much less make love to me, which is what I intended to happen now that I realized how much I wanted him and that he wanted me.

I gathered myself up, took a deep breath, and began to edge toward the couch on all fours. I knew that, if I got up, I might make too much noise and he might notice that I was still in the room. I didn't want him getting angry again. So I crawled across the floor, making as little noise as possible, until I was directly in front of him, sitting back on my knees. I just sat there for the longest time, and I really don't think he noticed that I was there. He was so caught up in his despair that he simply wasn't paying any attention to me.

After a couple of minutes, he took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch just the way he had earlier, with his head against the headrest and his eyes closed. Both hands came to rest, palms up, on the couch on either side of his legs. I got up slowly and carefully moved as close as I could to the couch; then I slowly lifted one leg and placed my knee directly between his upward-facing left palm and his thigh. I put my weight on it and slowly lifted the other knee so that I was straddling his thighs, facing him. I sat for a minute, holding my breath, waiting to see what he would do. When he didn't so much as move, I took a deep breath and sat down, putting all of my weight against him, my thighs riding the outside of his, my crotch pressing against his, my chest to his, and my arms on either side of his head on the back of the couch. He still didn't move. I had a thought to check and see if he was still breathing, and sure enough, his chest was rising and falling against mine. It was as if he couldn't care less that I was not only still there but was now sitting on him. I didn't know what else to do at that point. I had assumed that he would either respond by shoving me off on the floor or putting his arms around me. He did neither. So, after a minute, I simply laid my head on his shoulder and put both hands on his waist, and waited. As I lay there, I realized it was the most comfortable I had ever been in my life. Even though he wasn't responding, I felt more safe and protected than I ever had before. It was so relaxing that my breathing soon matched his and we fell asleep that way, pressed against one another, breathing in tandem.

----End of Part 1----

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