Chain Reaction 3.1.32: Aftermath

NSFW (mildly?)

Michael

      I moan. Where is that damn jackhammer coming from? Plum, will it ever stop?
      My eyes open; I cry out in pain; and I close them again. Plum! What the plum! My head is killing me! I wonder if sitting up will help, so I slowly lift myself, facing the wall since it's not as bright.

     My eyes keep wanting to cross, and I have to painfully hit my head with the heel of my hand a few times. What the plum is wrong with me? I have a killer headache. I have a fuzzy memory of Dad saying that to me... last night?

     Last night... There's something I'm supposed to remember... Something important. My pounding head refuses to cooperate. Then I wonder where Ivy is, and a ton of bricks gets dumped on me.
     Oh. Plum.
     I don't think I dreamed that. I remember drinking that cursed tea.
     I'm engaged. I put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. F--k! No use saying 'plum' anymore. How the f--k did that happen?! Then I remember Dad saying something like the tea brings out what's inside. Well, turns out what's 'inside' is a very silly--albeit good tempered--romantic nutcase. I know I'm also a smart-ass, but I don't think the tea would bring that out when the other stuff would be more prevalent around Ivy.
     Ivy. Yeah, Ivy. My fiancée. F--k!
     Is she around here somewhere? I stand up to go look for her.

     No. Wait. If I go to her in this state, freaking out, it'll hurt her feelings. After all, she did say yes. I take deep breaths, trying to calm my awful headache. Okay... so I'm engaged to Ivy. That was more than a little fast. Deep breaths. This can still be okay. We're just... engaged. To be married. Panic.
     No! Be calm. You're engaged. That's all. You're not married. Just go see how Ivy is taking all this and then decide what to do, but don't be an as*hole.
     I find her at the table. She'd made breakfast, one of my favorite ones. She took the trouble to learn my recipe.

     "Hi." I'm nervous. Why does this feel like another first date?
     "Hi," she repeats. Then she focuses on her food, so I do the same. And we eat in complete silence. Seriously. Neither of us say another word. Without her giving me any direction, I have no clue which way I should go. Do I tell her it was a mistake? Do I tell her I meant it? But she gives me nothing, and we finish eating.

     I do the dishes, and she puts away the leftovers. When she closes the fridge door, she stands and stares at it.
     I decide to just go for it. "Would you like to move in with me?"
     She bursts into tears. I have no idea whether they're good tears or bad tears, but either way, I'm concerned. "Oh, plum, Michael. What the hell happened? It was my idea to drink the tea. I didn't know that was going to happen. You warned me, but you yourself didn't think it would happen either, did you?"
    "Not really. I thought my dad was just nuts." Yeah, and I was nuts for thinking I could 'hold my liquor.' I've never been able to do that.
    She's still crying. "It's okay if you want to call it off." That's not what her face is saying. Her face says that if we do call it off, she's going to be crushed.
    "Hey..." I walk over to her.

    I kiss her tears. "Don't worry. Dad said all that tea really does is bring out what's already inside anyway."
    She sniffs. "Well, apparently, what's inside me is a silly, little girl."
    "I love that silly, little girl."
    She pauses. Then she throws her arms around my neck with an, "Oh, Mike!"
    Oh. That's the first time I actually said it. I think. Did I say it last night? Well, this was the first time I said it in my right mind.
    "I love you too! I have for a while now, but I was too scared to say it!" She kisses me, pressing her curvy body against mine, and I have to tell my baser urges to cool it.
    "Then move in with me. We can just... be engaged."
    She agrees. And there it is. I'm engaged. No date set, but engaged.
    Ivy moves in.

     Deep breaths. In. Out.
     Ivy is here all the time now, of course. What that means is an incredibly hot woman is always around me. I spend a lot of time outside, at the gym, working out in my basement, and working for Uncle Alex. It's a lot warmer here in the valley than up at Uncle Alex's. I keep my tan, but Ivy looses hers. She's taken up painting indoors.
     And that drive to want to f--k her constantly never goes away. I'm not saying we never do it, but when I say constantly, I very nearly mean it. It ranks above food and sleep, which I know isn't healthy. So I do yoga. A lot.
     Then Ivy comes out of the house wearing... wearing...

     I get hard so fast that I almost fall over. "Ivy," I gasp. There is only one reason a woman wears an outfit like that, if it can be called an outfit.
     "Oh, so you do notice I exist."
     "What?" I'm still only gasping out my words.
     "You're spending so much time away from me that I wonder if you even like me anymore."
     You've gotta be kidding me.
      I pounce, pressing her against the house.

     "Ivy..." My hands travel hungrily over her, everywhere they can immediately reach. I'm panting, hard to the point of pain. "Do you have any idea... how much... I constantly want... this p--sy..." I touch her everywhere I name as I name it. "These breasts... This ass... These lips..." I ravenously kiss her. The only reason a woman wears something like this... This is a 'f--k me' outfit if there ever was one.  And boy, is she going to get it.

     My hand stays between her legs. I want my mouth there, but the damn straps, excuse me, the sexy-as-f--k straps, are in the way. I'm going to rip these panties from her hips in a moment.
     She tries to talk through the pleasure of what I'm doing to her. "But I'm worried you're avoiding me. If you want me so badly, why does it feel like you're almost never around?"
     I let out a painful, frustrated noise. "Because I fear I'm slightly insane. To see you is to want to f--k you, but I don't want you to think that's all you are to me. Because you're so much more than that." Her panties are so frustrating!

     "Then f--k me, Michael."
     "Oh, I'm going to." The lace has to be the weak point, and I start ripping. She'd better not complain I'm destroying them.
     She gasps when I get one side ripped off. "No, I mean any time you want. I'd rather have that than what feels like you avoiding me."
     I grunt a few times. This damn lace is surprisingly durable. There! They're off. "Ivy. Now."
     "Here? Outside?"
     "Yes." I lift both her legs up, pressing her back against the wall, and I desperately pull my pants down just enough.

     I shock her with how forcefully I push into her. But I'm working with gravity here. Each time I move, she bounces, and oh f--k, that's hot. Every more I get makes me want still more for that more.

     I make a noise I can't describe as I go at her like a maniac. It's like a scream but not a scream but feels like a scream except it's not as loud. And she bounces. I watch, looking down as I lean my head into her shoulder. So nice. Then, I'm squeezing her ass as I come hard. I hope I didn't just bruise her back.

     Then I'm panting and shaking, crushing her between me and the house. She's lightly giving little kisses to my shoulder.
     "Mike, don't let it get this bad. I'm a big girl; I can take it, especially if I know you need it."
     I pet her arm clumsily. She's an angel. Still... "Ivy... I have to be able to trust you... to say no... when you don't want to... Okay?"
     "Of course."
     Plum, I love her. And I shove my tongue down her throat, kissing her deeply.

     So a new phase of our relationship begins, one where we might f--k four or five times a day. We both work from home; it's easy.

     "You like that? You like daddy being rough?" She doesn't wear panties at home, and I often surprise her like I am now. I've also noticed she likes me talking dirty to her. I mean she really gets off on it. It felt silly at first, but I grew into it.
     "Harder," she gasps out. F--k, I love this woman!
     As requested, I go harder, and she has a tough time standing. So I stand taller, grab her hips, and go at her like a madman. She cries out, and we both find satisfaction.
     It's not often, but she's kept her promise in that she says no when she doesn't want to. That typically means I disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes.
     Today, however, she stops me. "Sit down." We're in the basement.
     I do as she requests.

     She has soft hands, but I beg her to go faster.
     "No," she says gently. "We have plenty of time."
     "We're going to be late." We're having dinner at Charlotte's tonight.
     "They won't mind."
     "Ivy, please!"
     "Shhhhhh."
     Then I lose my mind. I'm screaming. It's torture! I try pushing my hips up, but she scolds me, stopping. So I do my best to be still and take it, screaming my damn head off.
     I have to change clothes before we leave, thirty minutes late.

     I love this woman! I can't say or think that enough. She lets me do anything I want. Anything...

     ...in any way I want...

    ...anywhere I want...

    ...at any time I want, even 2am. I had a good dream, woke up, and wanted to continue it.

     "I need to buy a full length mirror so I can watch you bounce." I'd swear her breasts are getting bigger, which means I want them more, but she complains they're tender.
     "If... you... want." She's bouncing on my lap.
     "More, Ivy." I want it harder.
     "I'm... trying."
     "No. More!" I start using my hips to practically throw her up before yanking her back down on top of me. "Yes! That's it!"
     "Michael... ow...!"
     "No, I need it!" I don't stop, slamming my sexy as f--k fiancée down on my dick. We both cry out for different reasons as I come. While I pant and recover, she leans down, grabs her panties, and stomps into the bedroom.
     Huh?

     I come into the bedroom to find her hunched over and crying. She's been extra moody lately, and I'm getting worried. I wanna know why. "Ivy?"
     She shakes her head no. "Leave me alone."
     I'm stubborn. "No." She cries harder as I cross the room and wrap my arms around her.

     "Mike, please, just let me cry."
     This is killing me! "No. I don't want you to cry. You're scaring me, and it just makes me want to hold you closer."
     "You don't need to be scared. I just need to get it out."
     "Ivy, please talk to me. What has you so upset? Was it just now? I'm sorry. I got out of control. I'm so sorry." I'm crazy.
     "It's not just that, Michael. It's that... I'm trying."
     Oh no. I knew it. I'm a freak, and it's ruining our relationship. I can't stop my little whine, and I hold her tighter.
     She pets the back of my head. "Mike, honey, don't worry. It's just that it suddenly got harder to keep up. I'm so tired."
      "Why didn't you say something?"
      "Because it's not like I didn't want it! But I'm more... sensitive for some reason."
      "And I overdid it and I hurt you." I want to cry now. Maybe I need to see a doctor. Unless she asks for it, hurting Ivy is unacceptable. I'm a total and complete ass for not heeding her 'ow.' "I'm so sorry."
      "I don't know why I suddenly can't take it."
      I sigh. "Because you're exhausted. I'm sorry."
      "Mike, please stop apologizing." She asks to go sit on the bed because she's tired, so we move to the bed. "Mike-"

     I kiss her. I've done nothing but fall more and more in love with her, even if I act like a monster sometimes when we f--k.
     Her hand reaches up and strokes my cheek. "Stop worrying," she whispers.

     I give her a look like she may as well ask me to stop breathing.
     "I'm going to go see a doctor tomorrow," she tells me.
     "Okay." I decide I'm going to make an appointment... with a shrink.
     "So let's hold off on the worrying until we hear what she has to say, all right?"
     "Okay." I'm not going to touch her until the doctor has her say. "Then, um, Ivy? I have a request."
     "What is it?"
     "Put some clothes on, the frumpiest clothing you own." I grin.
     She giggles, blushing. "I love you."
     I hug her, but the worrying... that's impossible to stop.

Drake

     They dropped the charges on that faggot as-hole. I'm in here, and he's not. And he's every bit the murderer I am. Yet he walks free on a technicality, one I have no doubt Emily orchestrated.

     I put my head in my hands as I think about her. I had her! She was going to have my baby!

     My heart aches when I think of the lost child, our lost child. She was happy to be rid of it. My baby.

     A roach crawls across the floor of my cell, and I watch it absently. As long as they're not crawling on me, I don't care. This hellhole can't get rid of them. Just for sh-ts and giggles, I sometimes bring back a small piece of food in my pocket so I can feed them. Sometimes the mice act grateful.

    Yes, mice. And rats. The rats scare me, but I watch them. They know this place better than anybody. I pay attention to where they scurry to, especially if it's an outside wall.

     However, the cracks in the walls aren't big enough for me, of course. So I also watch the guards, the other resident rats. They try to make it look like they don't have a set work schedule, but I've figured it out. It rotates in an ABCDADCBABCDADCB + ∞ pattern. This shouldn't be too hard. If that idiot Landgraab can handle it, so can I.
     First, I give myself a new haircut and shave.

     With a guard's hat pulled low enough, no one will see the scar above my eyebrow.

     I will have my revenge.