Disclaimer: I don't own them, I’ve never met them, and this is clearly only real in my delusional mind.
Summary: One night stands are almost always a mistake.
Author's Notes: This is the first Jeff Hardy fic, and I’m not sure how it turned out. Any feedback would be really appreciated.
It’s hard. Hard to imagine that it could be you, and hard to imagine that it could be someone you knew. What’s harder to imagine is the headache pounding through my temples, preventing me from even sitting up.
Instead, I merely turned my head, and opened one of my bloodshot blue eyes to squint through the bright light cascading through my cheap value village curtains. Once my eyes finally adjusted to the blinding rays of the sun, and I could see, I shivered. I shivered because I know I still have a lot to learn.
The thin, lithe figure was laid out beside me, under the black satin sheets of my double bed. He began to stir, and I too ka deep breath. An arm began to move, reaching blindly for foreign flesh, and all I could see were tattooed roots reaching from fingers to shoulder.
One night stands are a mistake. Kissing them is a mistake, holding their bodies close to mine is a mistake, and fucking them so hard that they scream out whatever it is they think you name is, is a mistake. This was a mistake. But I was still there, and he was still waking up.
There was definitely no going back now. My mind flashed back to watching his hands move down my stomach, watching his perfect lips circle around my cock, and I know, I still had a lot to learn.
I sat up slowly, and every muscle that I had worked so hard to perfect was straining and throbbing. My eyelashes batted like butterfly wings, and I looked at him. I let my eyes burn into his skin; his tanned skin that he worked so hard to maintain. He was probably missing a session right now.
Jeff really was quite attractive, with a tight ring looped around his supple lip. It was his lips that got me into this problem in the first place. He had been talking, and his deep North Carolina drawl got me exactly where he wanted me. The more drunk I got, the more I watched his lips move, and the less I actually listened to what he was actually saying. And at that point I realized, I still had a lot to learn.
But there we were. He rolled onto his back and I smiled at him, in hopes of making I less awkward. I had originally hoped that that my white teeth would blind him into sleep, or at least make him remember why he started talking to me in the first place, but I doubt it worked.
“Morning,” he spit out, and rubbed his eyes roughly.
I grunted loudly, looking hard for my clothes on a floor full of clothes that looked exactly the same. I didn’t want him to see me naked and it bothered me, a lot. I had fucked him hard the night before for several hours, until I heard him scream.
He leaned over and nuzzled my neck, and I was caught off guard by the personal touch. He had a light scent of vanilla, and it invaded my nose like a poison, seeping into my brain like nerve gas. I exhaled and I placed my hands on his chest to push him away, but stopped.
Right then, I should have made him leave, I should have gone out and done something. Instead, we both stayed.
He was sharing, and as his eyes bore into me, I felt guilty for ignoring what he had said the night before; for taking advantage of him, and now, for kicking him out.
I leaned over, and closed my eyes. Mainly to block out my conscience, but also to get ready for something else to regret. His lips touched mine, and as they did, I know I still had lots to learn.