It Wants What It Wants Pt. 2

I want to thank readers for comments, both public and private, kind and unkind, regarding my writing. I also want to thank the authors here for their stories and feedback to teach me new ideas and forms on how to get things out of my head. Finally, I want to thank James Blackshaw, whose music was an inspiration while I wrote this. Some of his album titles became the section headings here; many are actually titles of classic fantasy stories in their own right, so there's a matryoshka of borrowing here. His muse permeates this part of the story, the referenced albums in particular. Think of them as a possible soundtrack.

This story is an immediate follow up to part one. I'll be honest, I had no idea where I wanted to go with these characters when I sat down with them again, and unfortunately, that shows in some places. Mmmm, not entirely true. I knew one part of the end, but that's it. Part 1 flowed in an organic and natural way, written from start to finish, in almost one sitting. This one was a struggle. Maybe I'll redraft this if the demand is there. But I think it's OK, and goes to where I think these characters deserve. Otherwise, you probably don't care. And that's more than OK.

Again, this is slow and building. There's more sex than the first part but also some darker parts.

Everyone in this is of legal age in this story, and other than my errors, there's no specific warnings here. Fairly vanilla stuff. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. OK here we go!

Section 0: Love Is The Plan, The Plan Is Death (A little more than four years before Part 1)

JR

Stevie slumped on my chest, sweating and gasping. As bad a shape as she was in, I was worse. That bitch would ride me like she wanted to break me. My chest was evidence of that, scratches and welts from her nails crisscrossed my upper abdomen, shoulders and back. All of her lipstick she was wearing before was now smeared on my face and cock. It felt like one of her earrings was embedded in my back.

My revenge was her swollen and tender nipples that I used as chew toys and the vivid red hand prints on her ass.

"I, uh..." she croaked, hoarse from her screaming. "I may need a moment." She rolled off of me, my spent cock sliding out of her, a trail of my slime oozing from her onto my leg and the bed. Her roll continued right off the bed. No, really. She rolled and fell right off the bed, pulling the sweat stained sheet with her, landing with a thud. Like some comedy movie, her hand shot up, grabbed some sheets and she pulled herself up off the floor, eyes wide. We were both gasping and laughing.

Finally righted, she stumbled into the toilet and sat. I reached tableside, grabbed a joint I had and lit up. Exactly what the out-of-breath need, more smoke.

"What do you want?" she asked, sitting on the bowl, draining.

Exhale. Smoke curled up in the humid summer air. This room reeked of cock and cunt. It was time to add shitty ditch weed to that funk.

"For dinner? Let get some Thai? I could get some Tom Yum. Need my fluids --"

"No. Us. This." She stood and gestured with a sweep of her hand and me and the room, a tooth brush was in her fist.

"Oh. Well, that's serious."

"I'm a serious girl."

"Hi A Serous Girl, I'm JR." She made the universal 'you're-so-funny-but-not-really' face.

OK, it's that talk. We hadn't had it in a few months. This was like a tune up to make sure that we were in relationship-synch and still a functioning unit. It was necessary but it was healthy. I had to admit though, I was feeling strongly attached lately. We were a fucking machine, parse that any way you care to.

"Well, I am hopelessly in love with you and can't see any signs of stopping," I recited.

She responded in garbled speak as she brushed her teeth, a lather around her mouth.

I interpreted her response positively. "Why thank you my dear, it's good to be appreciated." I took another puff. She spit and splashed some water into her mouth and wiped off. She padded out, hips rolling and beautiful tits swaying in time and fell forward, splashing onto the bed. Face in her palms, she looked at me. Where else would I go?

"I wanna grow old with you," I offered her the joint. She shook her head. "Be your house husband. I want to follow you where your life goes and make you happy. Give you lots of babies."

"Lots? Why lots?"

"What do we have to do to make babies?"

"Oh yeah," she grinned. "Fuck like rabbits. But we already do that."

"Believe it or not, there is a purpose behind that." Puff. "To pro-creeee-ate."

"Babe, we're graduating soon."

"You're graduating soon. I'm taking another year for G-school." I corrected. "Long term plan."

She sighed and put her head down. "You planning. I love the sound of that," she tailed off.

"Some one's got to plan. And you sound like there's a 'But...' coming with that. No 'buts'. I'll have none of that stinkin' thinkin', missy."

"Well... yeah," she reached out and tickled my feet. Those nails were a killer. "Look, I need to do something. I've been working my ass off to get myself positioned for this. This town sucks for film and TV."

"There's shit filmed here all the time," I countered, weakly.

"Yeah, if you're established. I'm not. I have to go where they are."

"They?"

"Yes. Them. Those people. The ones with jobs." She crawled up next to me.

"OK, that's fine. Go."

"What?" she looked at me.

"Mmmmhmmm," I nodded. "Pack me into your bags, we go out together, and we have babies there. Where they are."

"But your school?"

"Don't they have schools there?"

"Yeah, but... Honey it's not the same. You have a life here. You're local"

"Stop fucking reminding me. I do my best to hide it."

"Dumbass, it's practically tattooed on your forehead."

"Tattooed? Yeah, right next to the one that says 'Poor Impulse Control'? And that one's only there 'cuz I'z loses controls cuz I can smell your cunt." I rasped, in my best psychopath-ese.

"Eeew gross," she giggled, swatting my balls.

"Look, you're the best goddamn thing that's happened to me, and I would follow you until one of us is cold and in the ground. And if it's you, I'll be camping on your grave until I can join you."

"Nice. Macabre, and more than a bit demented," She tapped my forehead. "It would make a good Hallmark card sentiment. Let me write that down," she stole the joint from me and took a deep puff.

"Whoa. Careful! You want to pass out or forget this? Me?" I grinned and kissed her forehead.

"Never. And I only get that way if I've been drinking. Sober as a judge," she screwed up her face in her 'drunk' impersonation.

"That's horrible. You're an actress?" I got a deserved swat for that. "Gimme that," I took it back, and she exhaled, her smoke rose up forever to meet mine in the blanket hanging from the ceiling.

"Unless you have someone else, I have no intention of letting you go, ever. I would be the happiest man on earth to be with you forever and through all that comes with that. You are my density," I swooned at her, like a lovesick teen.

"Thanks, McFly," she smiled. "It sounds like you're proposing or something." I didn't answer. I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but we were good together, and there was no need to talk about something that worked well. Her smile faded a little and she looked a little sad. "Order me some Pad Thai." Stevie leaned into me and started to get sleepy in my lap.

About six weeks later, she just started acting all serious, out of the blue, like these crying jags. Very unlike her. I did my best to comfort her and get her to tell me what was going on. She refused to say anything.

One night, I came back from my shift and she was gone. Her stuff and everything. Although I had an idea, she never told me where she was going.

Section 1: The Garden of Forking Paths (Present day)

Dan

I woke Sunday from old dreams with a start and an aching hole inside of me.

Sunday morning after (BBQ-Day +1), I had calmed down a hair so that I wasn't ready to rip Cindy's face off for sins such as squeezing the toothpaste from the middle of the tube. But I was still absolutely gutted.

We went to brunch. I left my phone at home. Cindy had hers. Every time it chimed, I thought it was Stephanie calling her. Each time she just looked at it and put it away.

"You wanna talk about last night?"

"Nope. Just got spooked. Happens sometimes." I speared a cube of cantaloupe.

She looked at me. I knew she wouldn't accept that, but the sweetheart she is, she would wait a bit to badger me about it. "I don't know if I want you smoking any more of that weed." I grunted non-committedly and took another bite.

One foot in front of the other. One day at a time. I will get through this.

We spent the day outside in the sun and looking at life go by around us. I was hollow to the life going on around me.

Cindy

Tuesday Stephanie came to my cube and dropped off the platter I had used for the cheese tray. She looked like shit. Well, Stephanie looking like shit is a relative term. She looked lean. Her hair was pulled back and it looked like her cheeks and eyes were a bit sunken. And, to be honest, that look was not one to be messed with. I didn't want to even approach her about whatever happened to her. Maybe Simon gave it to her after the barbecue. She still wore the ring, so it couldn't be that bad.

"You OK hon?"

"Never better." Lying.

"Thanks again for the great barbecue. Sorry Danny was such a weirdo."

"Nah. Is he OK? Did he say anything about what happened?"

I rolled my eyes. "You don't know him like I do," I said. She flashed a moment of ... pain? "You OK?"

She was distracted but came back. "Cramp," and gestured at her tummy.

"But I know Danny and this passes. He's so my rock. He's just fine. We're fine. If it's an issue with him, I'll fix it." Stephanie paused for a moment then nodded.

"Good. I'm glad." And she was gone.

Simon

I went down to the cave and open my works tray. I was missing a few big pinches of my weed.

"Honey?"

Stephanie called down. "Yeah hon?"

"Have you been dipping into my weed?"

"A little?"

Great. I was engaged to Cheech.

Steph was a doll but not a real smoking buddy. I was purely recreational with it, and because I had some responsibilities, I made sure to plan out my times to smoke so that it did not interfere with work or seeing patients. Steph was more impulsive and reactionary. Her usage was in response to stresses in her life so she was more a binge user, which worried me.

Steph was driven and definitely more dominant in our relationship, especially in bed. She ran rings around me and would wear me out. I knew I couldn't satisfy her, but she never made me feel bad about it. I mean, I was never a two-pump-chump, but she had asked often for seconds. At first, I tried. She'd revive me with her mouth or hand and climb on, but I couldn't muster the energy she'd expect. She tried for a third time once, but it was a bit emasculating. She never tried that again.

I'd try my best to keep her happy, through foreplay and surprises, but I always got the feeling that I was fighting, or fucking, an uphill battle. Still, she was never intentionally demeaning about it. She had some toys but I never saw her use them.

She was a dream girl but I could feel a pull away lately. Early on she warned me of her own independent streak and I wanted to honor that, even allowing her to keep her apartment, despite staying with me for about three weeks per month. With the time I spent in the clinic, there was more than enough alone-time for her to get her own life.

And I hardly made demands of her. But this was something different. At the same time, when I would try to ask about it, and communicate... I got stonewalled. Politely. Sweetly. Steph can be very sweet when she'd give the "I'm fine," but it's just not very convincing. There's an energy in her when she's really involved. Lately that energy was hard to find.

What can a guy do? I can only be as good as I can. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.

Dan

Cindy came home Friday night tipsy. I was on the couch and she slid in right next to me. I gave her a quick kiss. She reeked of booze.

She reached into my shorts and fished my cock out. "God I love this penis," she announced. "I wanna suck it."

I just sat and waited. She began smooching it and kissing it. I wasn't going to tell her 'no', but she wasn't really doing shit for me. Cindy is a sweet girl, but she's neither an expert cock sucker, nor a hot talker. That's fine, those aren't the reasons I'm with her.

After about five minutes, she took the head out of her mouth. "Why won't you get hard?"

"Huh?" I asked.

"Stephanie told me that she used to suck her old boyfriend and that he was devoted to her, and that blowing him helped her and her old boyfriend to be closer ..."

"Stephanie told you that?

"Yeaaahhhh," she whined, stretching out the syllables.

"Look Stephanie has her own life and she's happy with it. I'm with you and you don't need to compare us with her."

"Buuuuut, I wanna fuck. You love her and I -- "

"What?"

" -- just wanna make you stay with me?

"What? Why would you say that?"

"'Cuz everyone loves her. She's beautiful, and smart and funny 'n' sexy and..."

"It's OK, baby. You're fine. Here," I suggested. "Please go to sleep and we'll talk more in the morning."

"Wanna ... you." I picked her up. She was bird-light. Such a fragile thing, she would be tested again. She did not deserve what was coming. I put her to bed and tried to get some sleep myself.

Cindy tossed beside me and woke me a few times leading to my own fitful sleep.

The dreams I'd been having all week came that night with rapid-fire intensity. As they swept through like a prairie thunderstorm, the role I played was one of many things but all shared one thing: I was alone. I was a family man separated, I was lost and looking. I was a mourner, alone and broken.

There was no signs or evidence of these things in these dreams, like that I had children or a wife. In dream logic, it was just the innate sense that I *was* these things. It was my dream, so of course I *was* that which I dreamed of. But in each one of those dreams, it was the same - I looked to find someone, and I felt her there, her presence. It was as sure as anything in that tenuous space. But just surely, she was always just around a corner, out of reach. On purpose? By plan? Chance? The absolute anguish of being so close and yet not having the resolution ...

I awoke, gasping, to a hollow, pounding heart, to the loss of what was and what could have been; wanting what I had in some other life that I was living somewhere in another reality.

I just didn't want to feel like this anymore. I had suffered under this once before, but this time, I couldn't rescue myself. There could be no funeral.

There was nothing to bury, except me.

Cindy

I woke with a headache, but I was next to Danny. I had the best dream that he was inside me, putting baby after baby inside my body and I was just so happy being filled by him, again and again. The dream children he gave me were sunshine and light, each one was a blessing.

Then when I opened my eyes, he was next to me, awake and looking at me. He had water and aspirin and just gave them to me as soon as I could focus. The room was washed with early morning light. It hurt.

"How you doing, soldier?" he asked.

My mouth made dry croaking sounds. I was a frog.

"Here," he said, putting pills into my mouth and then the water.

"It's like a dream," I said.

"Then sleep, princess," I heard. He kissed me and I was asleep.

When I came to again, the light in the room was different. I was alone, so I yelled for Danny. He came, bringing me eggs and some toast to eat.

I have the best boyfriend.

I had a few bites, but I was really worked up. I couldn't put it into words.

"Babe, come here," I asked to Danny. He was at my side in a few seconds.

"What's the matter dear?"

I put the plate on my end table and pulled back the covers, to show him I was ready for him.

"Now?"

I grabbed him and kissed him as hard as I could.

JR

Women give a certain sign when they're looking for a pounding. She kissed me and grabbed my cock through my shorts. She asked for it. I'd say that earns her a pounding.

I asked her, "Are you sure about this? I mean really sure?" She was.

She got it. Balls deep. She said 'no', but there was not a not an ounce of 'no' in her. She wanted a fuck, and that's what she got.

It was about fucking time.

Dan

I held Cindy while she slept. I had cum in her twice before flipping her over for a third time and she just ... melted. She had cum again and again, including two deep, wracking orgasms, the kind of cums which I don't remember her having before. It was like she had a seizure, every muscle locked and a noise from her that was partially human.

She squirted all over herself, but I kept fucking her. Not a moment's hesitation.

And then I did it again.

What is wrong with me? I have to be better.

Cindy

I know I came on strong to Danny. Stephanie had told me that men respond to more sex. And she was right.

But it hurt. And I was not in control for a lot of it.

Don't get me wrong. I orgasmed so, so hard while he was inside me. Like it was crazy. Shaking. I wet the bed! I've never known sex could be that. I mean, I've heard of it. From Stephanie's stories, she seemed to have it like that all the time.

But this was something different. He was different. But outside the few moments of craziness. I didn't feel so different. It was a little scary. If it wasn't that for me, then what did I need to do?

I know Stephanie means well, and I want to be the girl that Danny wants to be with in all ways, but I don't know if I can keep doing that.

I was going to lose him if I didn't.

Dan

After a few weeks, I noticed that my pants were getting a little loose on me. Checking the scale, I was down a good ten pounds. I thought I was eating. I thought I was staying consistent. I was definitely drinking less booze. The only thing was that I had been having some rough nights sleeping.

The dreams wouldn't stop. I was so goddamn tired and drained from waking up each morning with a fresh ache inside.

Simon

Stephanie had really picked things up in bed. She was always more aggressive about sex than I was. Now, she was insistent. Four or five times during the week, multiple times during the weekend. She would initiate after we ate, rubbing me outside my clothes while we were watching TV or even driving. She wouldn't look at me, just zoning out while her hands moved.

We were at a restaurant, sitting in the booth when she took my hand and stuck it under her skirt. She wasn't wearing panties! I was shocked! People could see her! Well, they would've had to have looked. I jumped and moved away from her. Which, apparently was the wrong thing.

She looked heartbroken and small. Her face was a mask, but a single tear rolled down her cheek. It was gone as fast as it appeared, but I knew my reaction was not what she expected. I'm sorry, but I just can't be that way. I need some warning and some planning.

Afterwards at home, she took me in bed. She gave me some quick oral, climbed on and rode me. She rolled her hips and I came. She slid off me and went into shower. The whole thing took three minutes and she never made a noise the entire time.

This scene, repeated, happened again and again. I asked about her, but she insisted on it being this way. She initiated it. Multiple times a week. Like a script.

I asked her if she was enjoying this. I mean, I was. She just shushed me and told me to relax. But while she made me feel like a prince, there was something worrying about the disconnect she showed.