Promises

"There's only one rule. Don't let me feel your teeth." Nervously, I put my hand around the base and licked around the head. I couldn't believe I was actually about to do this. I closed my eyes willing myself not to cry it wasn't really working. His grip around my neck tightened a bit as he began thrusting in and out, groaning slightly to himself. "Just enjoy it, stop crying about it. It's better for me if you get into it."

It was better for me if I thought of myself somewhere else, but it seemed like his temper was rising, and I wanted to keep it at bay. "Oh yeah, God you're a good little slut aren't you?" It was his favorite pet name for me. Slut. "You like that?" He started thrusting harder, causing pain to the back of my throat making me gag and my eyes water.

The answer was no. I didn't enjoy it one bit. "Yes," I managed, knowing it was the answer he wanted to hear.

"Yes what? What do you like?"

"I like it when you fuck my face like a slut." My mind flashed to Rory, our nights on the beach, his constant speeches about how much he hates Devon. He would have choked me if he heard those words come out of my mouth. Devon just pushed harder, grabbing my hair and rubbing my face.

I tried to enjoy it, moving my hand to touch myself, but nothing tricked me into thinking this was ok.

Finally, I couldn't take the pain and willed myself to think of something else, only remaining aware of him enough to respond as I thought he wanted.

As my imagination replayed everything I had ever thought it would be, Rory's face flashed in front of my eyes. Too quickly, I shook myself to rid of it. Before I knew it, Devon's hand slid further up my neck, just below my jaw. "Fuck, you're such a slut. So good." As if out of frustration, he thrust even harder, keeping me pinned down by my neck. His labored breath rang against the silent car with every movement. I completely sent my mind away.

Finally, "uh... uh... I'm wish I was filling your mouth or cumming all over your face. Mmm." I was suddenly very glad that he hadn't argued about the condom. When all was done, he collapsed back on the seat. "Next time," he growled, "show a bit more enthusiasm." Pushing me away from him, he opened the car door and stepped into the cool March air. He stood and pulled his pants back up, fastening them and lighting a cigarette from the stash he always kept in his pocket.

The one time I dared tell him that I hated it when he smoked; he smacked me, hard, and told me to mind my business. Before stepping out myself, I tried to straighten my clothes, getting everything back to the direction in which it was supposed to fall.

The cold air was bringing me back to reality, causing me to reach into the front seat to look at my cell. It was almost midnight, and I needed to get home. "Don't worry, little miss goodie-fucking-two-shoes, we're done so I'll take you home." Not even half done with it, he flicked his cigarette to the ground. "Fix your hair. You look like a cheap whore."

Releasing myself from the backseat, I moved to the front. Frustrated with myself, I thought about how he was not always like this. He could be demanding and was known to voice a very loud and firm opinion about what I did, when and with whom, but there were plenty of days when he brought me around his friends, clinging on to me as if he were scared one of them might steal me away.

"This is Victoria," he'd say, "You know, Rich Winters' kid sister. Real prize isn't she?" He'd tell them about me, how smart and good I was, like I really was a prize worth showing off. Those were the days I truly understood why I was with him. Those were the days he made me feel good.

Without another word to me, he clipped on his seat belt and started driving. It only took a couple minutes before we were parked in front of my house. There were a number of cars already parked in the driveway. It was spring break and all the guys had come for their much missed boys night. "I have to drop my girlfriend off here?" Devon questioned, obviously annoyed. "Drop you off at a house full of guys?"

"It's my house, Devon, and it's just rich's friends."

"I don't want you hanging out with them."

"What's the big deal?"

"What did I just say? Do you have a problem with the fact that I don't want to drop my girlfriend off in a place where every guy inside is waiting to fuck her."

"None of those guys in there..."

"Stop fucking talking back to me! I want to protect you and you're acting like a bitch." I glanced away from him, toward the house, and imagined the face of every guy that would be inside, unable to respond to Devon in the way he wanted me to. Every last one of them was harmless to the surest degree. The worst they could do, and likely would do, would be voice an opinion against Devon, which seemed to be a new favorite past time of their get togethers. I needed protection from none of them. In fact, most of them had played the role of my protector at some point in the past few years.

That was when I noticed a figure leaning against the railing of the front porch. It was a figure too familiar to me to even hesitate before placing it. "That guy pisses me off." Devon grumbled.

In my annoyance, I was about to tell him that Rory felt the exact same way about him, but I bit my tongue, saving the arguing for another day. "Goodnight, Devon." As I started to get out of the car, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. For a second, my throat swelled with fear. He was going to yell or hit me. The only calming thought was that it was unlikely he would hit me right in front of my house, knowing full well that Rory was standing outside watching.

Instead, he pulled me against him tightly and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, though completely lacking passion. His hand found the back of my neck and held me in place until he was done. "I'll see you later." That was it, he was dismissing me.

Not knowing whether to be annoyed or embarrassed, I opened the door and stood. At that moment, I was suddenly overtaken by how sore my jaw felt and my throat felt raw. Unless I perked myself up perfectly straight, my face would probably give everything away.

I moved away from the vehicle carefully, slamming the door shut as I did, running my hand through my hair in a last minute attempt to make it lie in a natural way, all the while trying to walk as normally as possible. Rory wasn't watching me walk. His eyes were glaring down at Devon with a look of pure hate I hadn't known could exist. Then his gaze turned to me and softened immediately. "What's wrong?"

The question only made me feel more panicked, and there was nothing I could do to calm my expression. "Nothing, what why?"

"You just look..."

"Hey, dickhead!" Devon was leaning over the passenger seat of his car, yelling out the window toward us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rory's hand tense into a fist. "You might want to be careful with that one. I worked her face real hard."

A glance at my now shocked face was all Rory needed to understand what Devon was saying. "You mother fucker" In his anger, he started to move off of the porch, but Devon immediately slammed his foot to the accelerator to drive off, and my body was in the way of the stairs.

Every ounce of will power I had went into keeping my breath steady and not letting me cry. "Vikki?" His voice was pained in a way I had never heard it before. I dropped my head, unable to bring myself to look at him. As he stepped toward me, I remembered the image of his face flashing before my eyes and didn't want him to touch me.

"Vikki." More firm this time, though still shaking. He put effort forth in keeping it calm. I raised my head to him. "Tell me you didn't." A hollow feeling rose in my chest, and I knew I had disappointed him more than I ever knew I could.

We stood there, looking at each other, and I wouldn't allow myself to turn away from his eye again. That was my punishment. I made myself look straight into his eyes and see the hurt and betrayal that lie behind them, knowing I put it there. "That son of a bitch." The anger still hadn't left him, not completely. His gaze moved to the road, looking after the vehicle which had long since left our sight. "Did he force you?" There was no mistaking the strain in his voice. The wrong answer would make him snap.

"No." I answered, and just like telling Devon I loved him, I wasn't sure if it was true. I told myself it was true, though. It was my idea, so it couldn't have been forced. That was my logic. The word also seemed to put Rory at ease, though only slightly. He started to speak, but I cut him off, feeling too close to tears to let him. "Please, Rory. Whatever you want to say, just don't." My voice was shaking with my inability to keep my breath steady. "Not right now."

They were there, tears, perch within my eyes, waiting to escape. "Why do you look so sad shouldn't you be ha...?" The end of his sentence, somewhat harsh and painful, was left unsaid, and I was grateful for it.

"It wasn't supposed to be like that." My voice broke, and the pain on Rory's face was even worse when he heard it, but I steadied myself. "I wasn't ready. So I thought that would be an ok substitution."

All at once, his anger was gone from his features and only concern remained. He opened his arms to me. "Come here."

"I can't." The tears were falling now, one by one, leaving a searing path down my cheek. Rory looked even more hurt; his arms and face both falling in pained surprise. He took a step back, as if I'd just slapped him. "I can't because you're angry and disappointed, even if you won't admit it, and I don't deserve your comfort. And as soon as you touch me I'm going to just start crying, and I don't know if I'll be able to stop." With a single movement, he grabbed me and pulled me to him, wrapping me completely in his arms.

My hands came up to cover my face, but fell quickly, hanging limp at my sides, while I buried myself in his shirt. He was warm and smelled faintly of Old Spice, my favorite smell in the world. The tears would no longer be held back. I cried, heavily, and he held me, running soothing fingers through my hair and never once moving in a way that signified he wanted to let go.

Slowly, my crying stopped, and I began to lift my head. "Sorry." I muttered, running a finger over the extremely wet patch I left on his shirt.

Looking down, he chuckled, and the shake of his body relaxed me even more. "No worries, Vik. I'll just make you do my laundry." I gave my own laugh at his retort, knowing he didn't mean it. "Come here. Let's sit down for a second, let your eyes clear up. Wouldn't want Rich or any of the other guys to see you like this." He led me over to the bench swing in the corner of the porch, sitting and pulling me down next to him. There was an Afghan folded up and draped over the back, which he pulled down to cover me.

The simple contrast between the caring way in which Rory handled me and the harsh demanding way Devon would was enough to make me relax myself against Rory's body. Again, he pulled his arms around me, holding the blanket in place. Resting his cheek against my hair, he sighed audibly, but it was a calm sigh. One that said things were finally under control, and he was relieved. "The boys are going to be really excited to see you."

There was music playing inside. The sound of people talking and laughing as well as the booms and bangs of gunfire from the TV. Again, I imagined every face that would be there, all gathered around an array of TV screens: drinking, eating greasy food, and yelling playful profanities at each other, X-Box controllers in hand. This brought a question to mind which I hadn't even considered. "Rory?"

"Hm?" I felt the vibration through my hair, and was momentarily struck dumb by how much I had missed his closeness.

Still, I asked the question I felt I had already formed an answer to. "How come you're not inside with everyone else?"

His body constricted, slightly, and he almost pulled away but managed to stay close. I could sense his hesitancy and decided to ask the question more specifically. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Was I?"

"Is that why you were out here, by yourself, because you were waiting for me?" I looked up to see his expression, hoping that I hadn't offended him in any way. He was looking off, though the glazed look in his eye told me he wasn't seeing anything in particular.

Then, the focus came back and he was looking at me. "Well, you do have a midnight curfew, and Rich's a bit too far past wasted to yell at you for coming home late, so I just thought... you know..." I realized the unfocused look was a bit more, as his voice moved in a small quiver.

"Why do you look so sad?" I echoed his words from just a few minutes earlier.

He drew in a deep breath before allowing his eyes to meet mine, a forced smile raising one corner of his lips. "I was worried about you, Vik. I've been worried about you. I was standing out here trying to keep my thoughts from going out of control of all these different ways that Devon could hurt you, and I got this image in my head of you coming home crying and it just wouldn't go away.

"That led to me thinking about all the ways that I could kick Devon's ass, which, admittedly, was a bit therapeutic." I let myself chuckle at his words. "I was finally talking myself down and then the way he grabbed you and kissed you, what he said, that look in your eyes when you came up the stairs. He hurt you tonight, Vikki, whether you acknowledge it or not. He hurt you, and I don't know if this is the first time that he has or not because I feel like I'm so close to having lost you.

"I've heard you guys fight about me; I've heard him tell you not to talk to me. And I know you've told him that you won't give me up, which is great. I'm so happy for that but you haven't told me that's he's said those things to you. I can't remember the last time before him that you didn't tell me something. So, I don't know. I don't know if he's hurting you, and I've never felt so helpless in my life." His voice was shaking, raising that hollow feeling to my chest once again as I saw how close he was to tears. "You mean too much to me and I always promised myself that I would take care of you. I can't do that if I lose you."

My entire body was tingling, and I didn't know whether to feel good or heartbroken at his words. How could I tell him that he would never lose me when I knew that I hadn't spent even half of the time with him lately as I normally would have, if it weren't for Devon's nagging? Something needed to be said, something I truly meant something reassuring. What could I say to Rory that really told him that I couldn't imagine being without him? More than that. I needed him.

"You know what some of my favorite memories have been over the years? Sitting with you on the beach or going out to the park and talking or seeing your number show up on my cell phone and thinking that I'm someone who is important enough for you to call." He rubbed my arm thoughtfully, obviously appreciating that I found something to say, but I needed to get more out. "I like Devon, and I know that if there's a single thing you hate about me, that's it, but I don't know what I would do without you, so don't think that he could ever pull me away from you completely."

He nodded, not entirely happy, but content with my words. With a sigh, he pulled me against him again. "Mm, another thing to add to my list of favorites, Old Spice."

Rory laughed. It seems in life it takes the most ridiculous statement to make everything seem okay again, and Old Spice was the statement of choice for this instance. His whole body shook until he was able to calm himself down and regain composure. "Funny, I'm a fan of Old Spice myself."

Riley rolled his eyes at me, but stood nonetheless and pulled the blanket from my shoulders. "You're right. Giving me his hand, he pulled me to my feet, "let's get you inside so the other boys can have their fill of you, too." Though he opened his hand as if to release mine, I kept my fingers curved around his. Once he felt this, he tightened his grip, too.

Just as he reached the door, I realized what else it was I needed to say. "Rory."

"I know. Don't tell Rich what happened."

"Rory." I gave his hang a small tug, wanting him to turn and fully look at me. The words were almost lost in my throat, but I couldn't let them. Focusing on the feeling of our hands together, and the perfect green looking down at me, I let the words come. "I love you." I wasn't sure how I meant it, but there was not a doubt in my mind that I did.

The corners of his lips twitched, as if his reflex was to smile, but he suppressed it. I didn't want to be the first to turn away, to suggest that we go in, still content just standing there with him. His eyes never left mine, a hint of confusion in them, until he gave a crooked smile. Without letting go of my hand, he stepped forward, looking straight down at me, and pressed his lips against my forehead, cupping his free hand behind my head. "I love you, too, Vik." Every inch of his face was smiling, gently and purely. *** I walked down to the living room from upstairs, spotting Rory sitting on the couch, a baseball game play on the TV. Six months had passed since that night on the porch. Summer vacation had ended and school was starting up again, which for me meant college. Quite a bit had changed since spring break; seeing Rory was an immediate reminder of that.

Though the boys had spent all summer at home, I could count the number of times I had seen them on one hand. To everyone's disliking, I was still with Devon, in a relationship that became more and more based on fighting as time went on. I still refused to sleep with him so he found other degrading things for me to do and I know he was cheating on me. It also grew to be based on solitude as well. No other guy was allowed to look at me, let alone talk to me. This especially included Rich's friends, but often included Devon's own friends as well.

Rory was a constant source of my arguments with Devon. While I didn't see or talk to him nearly as much as I would have liked, I outright refused to stop completely. Still, Devon did what he could: checked my phone, kept me out, and followed me when I wasn't with him. He yelled and belittled. He hit. I worked hard to make sure Rory never found out that he did.

Devon seemed to be content with all the arguing and fighting since it was a good excuse to other girls. He said I wasn't allowed to be upset unless I willing to give him what he needed. For me, I had found that no sex with him was the good kind. He always like to have as much control as possible, and was generally more concerned with his own pleasure than mine.

Most of the time that we fought; it was over something stupid I had done. I forgot to call him, it took me too long to get ready, I wasn't dressed sexy enough, I was dressed too sexy; I disagreed with him on something. If any of his friends even thought to flirt with me, even jokingly, he would get a fist in the face and I would get called a slut. Those were the nights he really seemed to get the most out of fucking with me, the nights when he was calling me a slut and saying he was going to treat me like one.

Even while it was happening, I knew it was wrong. I knew it was something I needed to get away from completely, but I didn't. The truth, as I began to understand it, was that I was afraid. Not of Devon, of course, because I had a band of guys waiting for the right chance to beat him up standing behind me. I was afraid of refilling the distance he ripped between me and Rory.

As I hovered on the final step, staring at the back of Rory's head, I thought about having told him I loved him, and hearing him say it back. As much as I didn't understand how I meant the words, I understood his intention even less. For almost a week, the place where his lips touched my forehead burned, a calm, light, glowing burn, not unlike the way a sip of hot chocolate feels in your chest. Things in no way became awkward between us after that, as if we had done nothing more than confirm what the other had already known. It would be impossible, though, to deny that his words left me feeling relieved.