silhouette of memory. chapter 15.
Bam/Ville. NC-17. Warnings: smut, language. Bam consults a psychiatrist. Beta'd by poisonxangel. Banner by myrskya. prologue. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 6. chapter 7. chapter 8. chapter 9. chapter 10. chapter 11. chapter 12/Pt. 1. chapter 12/Pt. 2. chapter 13. chapter 14.
Ville had few memories of waking up to a warm body wrapped around his. Bam never slept with him until morning when they were teenagers; he and Jonna barely shared a bed. He groaned in appreciation of the fingers tangled in his shirt and legs that were wound with his own.
Just as he was about to close his eyes and try to sleep some more, though, he felt something else he was no accustomed to: waking up to a hot, hard dick pressed firmly against his thigh, as moans, soft and quite needy, puffed into his ear. At first, his reaction was purely shock, but as Bam shifted, his covered erection rubbing across bare skin, he realized he was getting semi-hard, his boxers tightening and his eyes closing against a jolt of pleasure that shot down into his stomach. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been in such a sexual position, though it was terribly one-sided and unknowing.
Careful not to wake Bam up, he turned in the other man's firm grasp, letting out a sharp gasp when Bam's cock brushed his stomach. He didn't know what possessed him to consider anything but getting out of the situation. Maybe it was pent-up sexual frustration, or the adorable way Bam's lips were parted, but he needed to kiss them. Covering them with his own, he relished the flavor, a flavor that was so familiar. Maybe too familiar.
It should have reminded him of heated arguments, hurt, and disgust, but his sexually starved mind was taking an altogether strange path, reminding him of how hot Bam made him, how hard he came when Bam was inside of him, and how much he always wanted him, even when he was treated badly. The result was his rigid cock resting eagerly along Bam's bare hip, and his tongue pressing forth into Bam's mouth, taking what it had never dared to take before, dominance and control, thoroughly startling a still half-asleep Bam, who woke with a deep, flustered moan and a look of bewilderment at their predicament.
"Vil--" he began, but Ville cut him off before he could speak with his mouth, his tongue, and his teeth, biting gently at Bam's lower lip as his tongue slid back inside, quieting whatever protests he might have had, and evoking a deep groan of ardor and Bam's fingers wrapping around his slim waist. The stroking digits along his bare flesh added an altogether different dimension to the slide of their lips, and Ville couldn't help the pathetic whimper of arousal that spilled from his lips into Bam's mouth, hot breath mingling in the air between them for a second, only a second, their lips crashing together with all the fervor of teenagers, hurried and wanton.
Bam's fingers braved the distance up Ville's shirt, exploring the curves of his back and his hips, before sliding between them, to glide across his chest and his abs, making Ville gasp his breaths out, short, staccato, and difficult, heightened when Bam's cock accidentally brushed against his own.
"Bam, stop...I can't, this is...too much," he groaned, stopping Bam's hands with his own, his digits quaking just the tiniest bit. "Don't you have to..." he swallowed, "go to work?"
Ville could tell that it took all of Bam's self control to pull himself away, turning to lie on his back, their bodies no longer touching. "Fuck," he whispered, his voice sounding a few octaves deeper than it usually did, sexed-up and frustrated as he sat up, scooting to the far edge of the bed. "Yeah, actually..." he looked around, and Ville answered his question before he asked it.
"Shit, I'm late," Bam buried his face in his hands, rubbing vigorously before he stood.
"Can't you call off or something?" Ville sighed when he thought of another week without seeing much of Bam. The distance between their houses was inconvenient at best.
"No, I used up all my sick days earlier this year. My dad'll be pissed and I need the money," Bam stretched, rummaging around the floor to find his jeans and his shirt, tugging them on. "I'm sorry baby." When he was fully clothed, he walked to Ville's side of the bed, leaning down to kiss him, and it was a glorious kiss, Bam's mouth tender and sweet, until the very last second when his tongue darted out, teasingly running over his lips before he pulled back, leaving another, chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'll call you," he promised.
Bam threw a hand up in a wave as he exited the room, and Ville listened intently for the sound of the front door closing. As soon as it did, he let out a sob at how hard he still was, his dick trapped between his stomach and the mattress. He moved his hips, just slightly, sighing at the thrum of pleasure that snaked through his belly. He knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself, his hand sliding under the elastic waistband of his boxers, and wrapping experimentally around his cock. The mere feeling of contact was enough to draw a long moan from him, and he rolled over so he was on his back, making it easier to slide his long fingers down his shaft, and to press his hips up into the delicious friction as his fist started moving up and down, slowly.
He couldn't stop the images of Bam that started flooding his thoughts. It wasn't as if their physical intimacy was new. They had countless sexual memories together. Ville remembered the salty flavor of Bam's come on his tongue, and the way his lips parted when Ville went down on him. He remembered the fast, unforgiving thrust of Bam's hips into his, and how tight his stomach would twine before he found release that was too intense to describe. But most memorable, most erotic was their recent encounter, the way Bam's fingers had appreciated his skin and his muscles and his curves. He had never willingly done that before, not so freely, and not with such delicacy.
The very thought that Bam wanted him like that, wanted to touch him, to make him feel good, sent shivers down his spine as his hand sped up, bringing him to the edge of something he hadn't experienced in years. He let out another gasping sob, his back arching off the bed into his hand, his eyes closing. "Bam," he whispered, imagining that the fingers stroking him were the other man's. He didn't have to imagine much more to bring a passionate cry from his lips, deep and provocative as he writhed against the mattress, relishing each blissful second of his orgasm.
It took a long time to be able to move his limbs again, his feet finding the floor, toes digging into the cold carpet as he pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe the come from his stomach. Tossing it in the dirty clothes, he made his way out of the bedroom, and through the house, grudgingly, knowing that paperwork was waiting for him. He had to work on several client files before he even thought about anything else. He knew it wasn't very healthy to be so wrapped up in someone that you forgot about reality, but he was beyond caring. As he went to the kitchen to start his coffee, he realized just how hard he was falling, and how fast. He expected the realization to bother him, but it didn't. Teenage Bam would have never stuck up for him in such a difficult situation. Teenage Bam wouldn't have offered to do difficult things for him. It was all too much to be an act, he could feel Bam's emotions in his fingertips when they were lying in bed together; the way his digits had brushed over his flesh was nothing short of worship. Ten years ago, those same fingers were full of possession, subjugation, and greed. Ville had been the one working for his chances, the one with the worshipping fingers and the hopeful glance. Now it was Bam. He felt like that knowledge enabled him to let go of his inhibitions and move on.
Trying to shake the excess thoughts out of his head so he could concentrate, he flipped on the switch to the coffee maker, sighing in contentment when the strong scent of caffeine filled the kitchen. The smell wafted into the living room, and on into the office, where he found himself, digging through piles of folders to get to the ones he needed to go through. Preparation was key in his line of work; he always studied each of his patients' medical histories and backgrounds before they stepped into the office. When the coffee was done, he sat down with a cup of it, along with his papers, hoping that the day would go by fast.
The day wasn't the only thing that went by fast. The week came and went, bringing with it his signed divorce papers, courtesy of Bam, who went out of his way to bring them to the courthouse. Ville felt like the weight of a thousand burdens was lifted from his shoulders, knowing that he didn't have to see, hear, or speak to Jonna again.
They were having dinner at Bam's house when the other man slid an envelope across the table. The small pouch contained the final divorce notice and Jonna's house key. He didn't have to worry about changing the locks after all.
Ville fingered the envelope, unable to believe his nightmare was finally over. "I don't know how to thank you, this means so much to me," he looked up, smiling at Bam as he slid the contents out of the envelope. "I'm just surprised the judge was okay with you bringing it."
"Well, he accepted it with the condition that you would sign the notice and mail it in."
Ville looked over the paper with a small sound of agreement before his hand came to the key. And as he gathered it in his fingers, an idea came to him. He didn't really know why he hadn't thought of it before. Putting it back down on the table, he slid it across the wood surface so it was laying in front of Bam. There was silence as Bam looked down at it, then back up to Ville.
"You're giving it to me?"
A knowing smile creased Ville's lips as he nodded. "Hell, you're over there almost every day. I'm getting tired of answering the damn door," he teased. Truthfully, he just wanted Bam to know that he trusted him, a fact that was as surprising to him as it was to Bam.
"I don't know what to say. Thank you..." Bam's blue eyes remained locked with his for a moment before he slid his key ring out of his pocket and attached the key. "I just...I don't have a spare key to my house," he said, sheepishly.
Ville shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Give it to me when you're ready."
"But I am ready, I've actually...wanted to give it to you a while ago, I just...didn't want give you the wrong idea," Bam seemed to stumble over his words, lost for a way to explain his inhibitions, until he finally formed a humble and shy, "I'm always so afraid of coming on too strong."
Bam's vulnerability took Ville by surprise. He didn't know what to say, almost as tongue-tied as Bam was. "I think it's safe to say that you don't have to worry about that anymore. I trust you, Bam. I mean, it really hasn't taken as much as I thought it would. I just...see you as a different person now. It's pretty clear, it has been since I saw you again the first time. So stop hiding what you really feel, okay?"
Bam gave an agreeable nod, standing up from his chair and gathering their dishes. "Alright. I'll try."
"Bam, you're hurting me!" It was Ville's voice, disjointed, coming from somewhere in the darkness.
"Shut up and take it," came his own voice, heartless and unnatural, echoing through the darkness with frightening ferocity, followed by the agony of Ville's sobs for mercy. He couldn't see anything. He could only hear the aftermath of his anger, the sounds of slapping skin and painfully loud cries.
"Shut the fuck up!"
He woke up abruptly, gasping through the oppressive hold of darkness until he found Ville's face above his, looking down with a veneer of worry. It was a dream. A nightmare.
"Are you okay? You were yelling..." Ville whispered, brushing hair from his face and wiping beads of sweat from his brow.
His windpipe clenched in fear of what he might have yelled out into the room. "I was?"
"Yeah, just yelling...I couldn't understand you, but you scared the shit out of me." Ville lifted his weight, moving to rest next to him.
Relief only visited him for a moment, and he realized the dream had begun just as all the other ones had: a vague silhouette of memory. He didn't want to revisit hurting Ville every night, and as he lay back down, wrapping an arm tightly around Ville's torso, he hoped that was the last time he would hear Ville's voice in such pain.
He barely slept the rest of the night, in fear of what other grievous reminders might lurk beneath his eyelids.
to be continued.