Talk To Me By The Dark Knight
	Title: Talk To Me, Part 1 Author: The Dark Knight Rating: R for language Pairing: M/M Slash (It’s a surprise) Warning: Bad language, Slash, Summary: Thoughts of another wrestler. A/N: Takes place on a tour bus on the way to there hotel Damn, Shit, Fuck, Hell, Oh God! I want him so badly! And he just sits there oblivious. I want to lick his collarbone and cup his ass. Hell, I'd be content to snuggle up to him and breath in his scent. I want to know what his kisses tastes like and what noises he makes when he comes. I want to know what my name would sound like from his lips, his voice thick with need. I don't want to ache for him so much but I do. It's not fucking fair! He can just sit there so calmly and I'm here digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands to keep myself from reaching out and touching him. I want to run my hands down his arms and feel the muscles bundled tightly beneath the surface of his skin. I need to know what his skin tastes like, is it salty or sweet. Would he hiss, or moan if I allowed my mouth to travel down his chest and lightly nibbled on his nipple? Why? Why do I want him? His fucking innocence makes him all the more desirable. Knowing that he's relatively untainted makes me want to be able to share with him all the pleasure that can be derived from exploring someone else's body. I want to be the first one to suck on his lower lip as my hands explore the ridges of his stomach. I want to be the one who causes him to mutter phrases and unintelligible gibberish he's never uttered. I crave him; I crave the time we spend together, the looks we exchange. Every conversation is burned on my brain. It would be so damn easy if this were only about sex, if I only wanted his hot body, to feel those pink lips on my skin. It's more than that, I want hold him tight, protect him from the world. I want to lay in bed and discus politics and the latest movies. I want to wake up every morning and know that he's lying there next to me. I want to spend holidays with his family and call his parents Mom and Dad. I want to waste days walking through the woods hand and hand and then hurry home to make love, over and over until we're both exhausted. I want to have him, and for him to have me. It hurts to want him this much, I don't think it's love - love can't be one-sided can it? Fuck this is painful; I can't look at him without smiling, without inching closer. I don't want this, I don't need this pain! I don't want to close my eyes at night and imagine him above me, the muscles in his arms straining as he bends his head to kiss me. I don't want to envision what our fingers would look like entwined, or how it would feel to have him inside me. Oh God! I don't want to cry, it shouldn't feel like this. Nothing should feel like this, this empty craving. I've felt like this for months and it should get better with time - shouldn't it? "Brock," his voice brings me out of the place inside my head I've escaped to. "Yeah, Shannon?" "Are you okay? You look kind of - sad." I force my lips into a smile hoping I can fool him "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." He pats my shoulder and I want to jerk away and move closer at the same time "Get some sleep, we still have like, 6 hours before we get there." Sleep, I wish I could sleep. I can't close my eyes without seeing him, without imagining how it would feel to have him curled against me in the bunk, or the spacious hotel bed. He haunts me even in my dreams. "I think I'm too tired to sleep." He plops down on the couch next to me curling a strong arm around his knees and looking at me intensely. "I know the feeling." I hear him sigh and I wonder if he really does know how I feel, I can't imagine that Shannon Moore has ever felt this way about anyone. Then I realize I'm being unfair. I look at him studying his long slightly messy hair and pouty lips. I wonder if he knows, does he have any fucking clue what he does to me? He taps me on the hand gently and calls my name "Brock, what are you thinking about?" "You," I blurt out before I can stop myself. Oh God! I didn't just say that did I? His blue eyes widen a bit in surprise and he continues to look at me. "What about me?" I shake my head "Nothing, really." He scoots a little closer on the couch "Come on, tell me." "No, Shannon!" I say angrily and stand up walking back to the bunks. Maybe I can sleep, maybe I can just fall asleep and then all of this will just go away. But I know it won't, I'll wake up and see him again and the pain will begin all over again. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I actually had him, if I knew he wanted me. Would I be disappointed, would holding him in my arms and feeling his lips upon mine not meet my expectations? Then I realize that it wouldn't matter if it didn't feel exactly the way I expected, exactly how I've anticipated it. Just knowing that I could touch him whenever I wanted, that I could hold his hand or pull him into a hug would be enough. It doesn't matter anyway because it's not going to happen. I'm going to keep smiling and pretending everything is fine as I watch him with some girl or another. I'm going to keep throwing my energy into the ring and anything else I can invent to keep my mind occupied. Then maybe someday someone will come along and distract me, or these feelings I have for Shannon will begin to fade and I can find someone else, someone who wants me in return. I turn to face the wall as I hear him pass by my bunk; I know it's him, I recognize the way he walks. He stops outside my curtain and I wonder what in the hell he's doing. "Brock" he calls out softly, "Come on Brock I know you're not asleep." I wish he wouldn't say my name, each time it's like a knife twisting in my heart. It sounds almost musical slipping from his lips. I wonder what he'd do if I told him, if I came right out and said 'I want you Shannon, you're all I can think about and it's driving me insane.' He'd probably hate me, or feel sorry for me and then we'd never be friends again. I don't want that, I'd rather remain just friends than risk losing him all together. I hear him pull back the curtain and lean his head down peering inside my bunk. "Brock come out and talk to me." "Shannon, just leave me alone please." I can't do this. I can't talk to him right now; I can't look into his soulful eyes and caring expression. I'll either break down in tears or confess and either one would be humiliating. "Fine" he says shortly and I can tell he's hurt. Damn it, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. "I'm sorry," I mumble. I hear him sigh again and his voice is different this time, he sounds exhausted and even younger than he is. "It's okay, I just wish you'd talk to me." When I don't respond he says "Goodnight, Brock" and I hear him make his way back into the common room.
		Title: Talk To Me. Part 2 Author: The Dark Knight Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Brock/Shannon Warning: Language and M/M slash Sequel to Talk To Me part 1 It’s the same thing night after night when I‘m on the bus. After I know they’ve all fallen asleep I throw back the covers letting my fingers trail over the cotton of my briefs. I slowly lift my hips and pull my underwear off. I’m already getting hard, my body knows this routine. I’ve perfected the act of keeping silent, I’m almost afraid that when I’m actually with someone else I’ll keep it all inside. I moan in my head, I cry out obscenities, I scream Shannon’s name and hear it echo in my brain. I let my fingertips arouse me more fully, an image of Shannon swims before my eyes. His likeness becomes clearer the tighter I squeeze my eyes shut. This is my escape; I can’t sleep without cumming at least once. Sometimes the fantasy varies; sometimes he’s fucking me, other times I can feel his hot mouth traveling down my erection. Occasionally I imagine I’m thrusting into his tight entrance, hearing him whimper in pleasure beneath me. It’s always Shannon, that never changes. It’s always his blue eyes and pink mouth I picture as I quietly thrash in the covers. I wrap my hand around my aching cock, as I slide my fingers up and down I imagine him pounding inside me. I can almost feel the head of his cock at my entrance. I bend my knees, scooting my feet further up the bed. A litany of phrases screams in my brain 'Oh God, Shannon fuck me, fuck me, yes, like that, harder. Oh yeah, oh, it feels so good, Shannon, Yes!' Picturing his lust slackened mouth I come. I come hard, spattering my stomach with semen. Reaching for a damp towel I’ve placed close at hand for this specific reason, I realize that it was simply a release. Once again it’s just me and my five-fingered friend. I still need him inside me, or at least touching me to make it real. Just considering it gets me hard again, I think I could cum a hundred times and still not be satisfied. ---------- "You know I hear you at night." It’s not a question it’s a statement, I wonder why he’s bringing this up. We haven’t talked in days. I think he knows I’m avoiding him. "Hear me what?" "Getting off." "Oh, I thought I was quiet." Great, he fucking hears me. That’s wonderful. I’m not ashamed of masturbating; it’s the idea that he hears me when I’m lying there jerking off thinking of him. "You are," he practically whispers. "But I listen, I don’t think the other guys can hear you or even care." "But you do?" Why is he doing this to me? I swear he knows he’s torturing me. Damn, Shannon, what’s your fucking point? "Brock, what do you think about when you jerk off?" Fuck this! I am not answering these questions; it’s none of his business. Well, maybe it is his business but I’m not hurting him and he’s never going to know because I’m never going to tell him. "I dunno, different stuff." "Well, do you have a favorite fantasy?" Shit Shannon, don’t do this to me. Why are you asking all these questions? "Not really," I lie. "Humm, well have you ever thought about another guy?" Does he know he’s killing me? That it's so hard not to tell him, to tell him he’s the one I think of, it’s his face I picture when I cum. Those pouty lips, pinked cheeks and deep blue eyes, those strong fingers I picture wrapped around my dick or buried deep inside me. Fuck you Shannon! Fuck you for being so beautiful! Fuck you for being sweet and funny! Fuck you for making me laugh and listening to me when I complain! Fuck you for being there when I need someone to keep me company in the middle of the night! Fuck you Shannon! Fuck you for being everything I ever wanted! I can’t do this anymore. I stand up from the table not looking at Shannon. When I get to the doorway I run. I run past the buses, past the hotel parking lot. I run and run until I can run any more, hearing only the sound of my heart beating and the pounding of my shoes on the pavement. I collapse, curling up into a ball. Rocking myself as the tears begin to fall and I start to sob. This isn’t me damn it! I’m a man not a fucking baby. I can’t stop the tears; I don’t even recognize the sounds escaping my lips. They sound foreign and animalistic, like none I’ve ever made before. That scares me and I cry harder, the tears fall until there’s nothing left.. Finally, I gather enough strength to stand. I begin to walk in the direction I think the hotel is in. I walk for what seems like hours, not having realized how far I ran in my distress. Finally I see the hotel and make my way up to my room, strip down and climb into bed. ---------- "What are you doing here?" I wake up to find Shannon lying next to me on the bed, one arm flung over my waist. He lifts his head to look at me. I feel the confusion behind his intelligent blue eyes as he searches for some sort of explanation in my face. "I came to check on you. Brock, I don’t understand what’s going on." He sighs and for a moment he looks ancient, I wonder if I’ve done this to him. "Anyway, when I walked in you were having a bad dream or something. You called out my name, so I laid down next to you hoping to calm you down. I guess I fell asleep." I don’t respond, I can’t. I’m stuck, trapped in this hotel room, in this bed, next to this man. I don’t have anywhere to go, or anyone to talk to - at least no one who’ll understand. "Brock, please" Shannon practically begs. "Talk to me." I can see the tears beginning to form in his eyes. "You’re scaring me. I don’t know what’s wrong and I want to help." I shake my head, knowing I can’t say anything. Knowing that if I open my mouth the words will start pouring out and never stop. He takes my hand in his own, entwining out fingers. "Brock, please talk to me." I glance down and see the perfect way our hands fit. I know that no matter what happens I’ll have the image of his strong fingers interlaced with mine, forever ingrained on my brain. "Tell me what’s wrong, please. Tell me why every time I talk to you, you run away. I can’t stand to see you like this. I miss you Brock." He’s hurting, I made Shannon hurt. I don’t know what to do; I can’t make up some bullshit. He’ll know I’m lying. I take a deep breath "I want you Shannon, I’m falling in love with you." Time stands still; did those words slip from my lips? Did my mouth move? I didn’t feel my lips or tongue budge, I didn’t feel anything. I close my eyes feeling the gigantic weight of my eyelids, wondering if he heard me. Maybe I didn’t say it; maybe the words never left my mouth. "That’s it? That’s what’s wrong?" Shannon frowned. Oh God, he doesn’t even care. I’m not sure what’s worse the thought of him hating me or not caring at all. "Brock, you’ve been miserable because you’re falling in love with me?" I don’t answer, I feel him shift on the bed and I know he’s leaving. I wonder if that’s the last time I’ll ever hear him say my name. I feel his hand on my cheek and I jerk in response. He leans closer and readjusts his hand. He’s going to hit me. I know he’s about to slap me so I prepare myself for the blow. The shock of his lips on mine is so great I gasp in surprise. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my parted lips. He presses me back against the covers, covering my body with his own. I tingle as the shock wears off taking a moment to savor his taste. This isn’t real, this is some sick joke my mind is playing. He slowly pulls away, rolling to his side, our eyes lock and I realize that if this is a dream it’s the most vivid one I’ve ever had. "Brock," he whispers. I sigh at the sound of my name on his lips "I want you too." Then he curls up against me and we drift into sleep. The first restful slumber I’ve had in months. -------- When I wake up he’s there smiling down at me. He kisses me quickly, he knows me well enough to realize I need reassurance. "We need to talk." At his words fear courses through my veins. He sits up on the bed, leaning close and picking up my hand. As he kisses my palm the fear starts to dissipate. "I still need to know why falling in love with me did this to you." I sigh, I don’t even know if I can explain it to myself, let alone Shannon. I think about it and try to formulate the words to explain it without making Shannon think I’m some psychotic freak. I guess after my behavior the last few days he’s entitled to believe that. I don’t know where to start, I don’t think there are words in the English language to express how I’ve been feeling. This helplessness, this frustration mixed with the joy of getting to see him every day and simply knowing him as a person. How can I ever explain that the majority of the time I was okay knowing that someone like him existed, even if I couldn’t have him. I glance up, Shannon’s watching me patiently. I gather my nerves, take a deep breath and begin, "I can’t remember a time since meeting you when I didn’t want to kiss you." I talk for what feels like hours, letting the words pour out. Telling him things I was never even conscious of, purging my soul and laying my emotions bare. I know he could crush me. I’ve admitted this vulnerability - my absolute weakness for him and him alone. As my words slow to a trickle he strokes my cheek looking me deep in the eyes and that’s all I need to know I’m safe. I sigh and move my hands underneath his shirt; I need to feel his skin, to be as close to him as possible. I want to learn his texture and the taste of each part of his body. I try to relax, to remind myself that I have time, time to relish each touch and caress. Time to enjoy simply lying in silence with this wonderful man. We can figure the complicated shit out as we go. I lean over and kiss him, simply because I can. The End