Tainted Touch by Glacis. Rated NC-17. No copyright infringement
intended.
Joe was elated when the test results came through. An entire year of
living his life on the edge of his nerves, not knowing if he was HIV positive,
not daring to risk his love's life by allowing any intimacy, unable to make any
plans for the future beyond the next test.
The final test.
The final, negative test.
Everything fell into place. The plan to start his life
over, Gabby at his side, in a little town in the
Gabby'd been so nervous
about singing at the nurses' ball. Then she'd come on like Gypsy Rose Lee and
literally strip-teased him in front of the entire audience. He hadn't allowed
himself to touch her, beyond the most innocent of kisses. He hadn't expected
the first time he would see her breasts would be in front of three hundred
charity-minded Port Charles residents.
Including his parents.
It was almost as if she was drunk. She didn't seem to understand what
she'd done wrong, or even that she had done anything wrong. He tried
bringing it up tactfully. Then the train wreck happened, and the casualties
began pouring in, and he was too busy with triage in the emergency room to
think about Gabby's weirdness.
Sexy, he had to admit, but incredibly unlike her.
Dawn was breaking before he was able to take her home. They'd barely
made it in the door before she attacked him. He couldn't think of another way
to put it. The gentle foreplay and tenderness that had marked their closeness
up to that point were washed away in rampant lust.
He'd had the fear, since he'd been celibate so long, that he might not
be able to restrain himself with the requisite gentleness he wanted to show
her, to cherish her as she deserved, when they finally made love. He'd wanted
champagne, roses, and candlelight, long hours of love-play, a beautiful
beginning to their future together.
He got her practically pinning him against the wall and raping him.
He finally wrestled her into the bedroom, and she nearly threw him onto
the bed. Then she climbed up him and ravished him. He felt like he was caught
in a whirlwind. He was hard and aching, drowning in Gabby, her hands and lips
and, God, teeth! Everywhere. She climbed on top him
and took him inside her without even giving him time to ask about a
condom, then started to move before he could catch his breath, making him lose
it all over again.
Sweat stung his eyes, and he felt powerless as she caught his wrists and
pinned them with unexpected strength to the pillow next to his head. He stared
up into her beautiful dark eyes, now dancing with a fire he'd never seen. For
an instant, her exotic features blurred, and he thought he saw different dark
eyes, straight black hair instead of her mop of chestnut curls, coarser
features painted over hers. The smile was the same, hungry and somehow manic. He
blinked, and the image disappeared.
He'd never been so turned on, or so confused, in his life. He forced her
away from him long enough to roll them over in the bed, and her hand raked
across his shoulder at the same time that her teeth clamped into his neck. He
barely kept from howling.
The only thing he could do was ride out the storm and try to find out
what was going on in the afterglow. If there was an
afterglow. If he didn't spontaneously combust from her
heat.
Caleb stared at Olivia. She was his. She simply didn't realize it yet.
Soon, she would. She would realize that Jack was not her destiny, and she would
be his.
Until she did, he would relish every sensation he could gather. Michael
had to escape the cellar sometime, and when he did, fun-time would be severely
curtailed. If it wasn't for the fact that he dearly loved to see his twin
grovel, since it went so well with his collar and his pathetic piety, he would
have killed Michael years ago.
Maybe someday. Maybe soon. Until then, he had those he had touched, and
what he would take from them. Through them.
Jack told the stupid bitch and her little gang of thugs that they
shouldn't do it. They shouldn't attack him. He tried to warn them.
He felt like hell. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His skin itched.
Energy was flowing through him, almost like his body was using him, not the
other way around. He thought he had a fever. It was like he was floating off
somewhere while all this strange stuff happened, but he felt the bruises
afterward, so he knew it had to be him doing it.
Didn't it?
He needed Livvie. The only time he felt real
was when she was holding him.
The gang moved in on them. He raised his hands to shield his face. One
of them hit him.
Another one kicked him.
He tasted blood from his nose, running over his lip. His eyes blurred.
The world spun sideways and he came up swinging. Kicking.
Throwing people against walls.
It felt so good.
It hurt so much.
Gabby had waited so long for this. She loved Joe, sure, but she wanted
him more. Wanted his skin under her lips, his body under her
hands. She wanted to shred his skin from his bones and make him bleed
and lick the blood and sweat from his body while he came.
A shudder worked its way down her spine. She stripped her dress off,
caught him by the hair with one hand, around the waist with the other, and
devoured him. He tried to get away, but she wouldn't let him, and soon he was
kissing her almost as hungrily as she was kissing him.
Almost.
He was bigger than she was, but for once she was stronger. He made it to
the bed and she knocked him over on top it, stripping him as she had stripped
herself, with speed, efficiency, and barely controlled need. His eyes were
huge, blue nearly disappearing around the blackness of his pupils, wide in his
flushed face. His mouth was open and she dove in, nipping and biting at his
tongue, his perfect lips, his velvet skin.
God, she wanted to eat him whole.
He kept moving, slowing her down, and she pinned his hands to the pillow
to get them out of her way. His head arched back and she bit his neck, sucking
until she could feel the blood of the bruise under her tongue. He made a
comment about her lifting weights, his voice breaking in his throat, breathless
from her assault.
She had to have more.
Giving in to the need to feel him over her, she allowed him to turn them
in bed, until he was covering her, thrusting into her, big and hot and hard but
not enough. Still holding back. She thrust against him
as hard, if not harder, than he thrust into her, and used her nails to rake the
skin on his shoulder. His blood was warm and slick beneath the pads of her
fingers.
Finally, he reacted to the pain, or the pleasure, or the inevitability of
her need, and took her almost as hard as she needed to be taken. His climax
triggered her third, but she needed more.
He looked at her with wide, wounded eyes as he stretched his shoulder
and winced. She told him he hadn't seen anything, and tried to get him down
again so she could climb back on top of him, but he resisted. Said he needed to
rest. Then he told her they would be leaving town in a week. She told him no.
He looked surprised.
She couldn't leave. She'd met Caleb.
She could never leave.
Joe stared at the floor. Glanced over at Gabby.
Looked away again.
Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she'd ingested some sort of drug or
something that was making her ... not herself. The sex,
and it had been sex, not making love, hadn't been at all what he'd imagined. It
was nothing like the woman he thought he knew. Knew he loved. Then she told him
that all the plans they'd made, the plans she'd been so excited about, were for
naught. She'd found someone else, and she was staying in Port Charles with him.
Then why had she made love to him? No, that wasn't it.
Why had she used him for sex, if she didn't love him any more?
He turned back to her to ask the question burning on the tip of his
tongue and she put hers in his mouth before he could. Then she literally lifted
him back onto the bed, and while he was still trying to figure out how on Earth
she'd managed that move, she'd rolled him over onto his stomach. He scrabbled
at the pillow, trying not to suffocate, and she straddled his ass, putting her
hands against his shoulders and rubbing the muscles bunched up around his neck.
So much for discussion.
"Gabby?" The single word was all he could get out, and it was
mangled by a moan as the massage went bone deep. He was exhausted, from the
sexual acrobatics of the last few hours, the full night of emergency medicine
before that, and a fourteen hour shift before the nurses' ball.
That was the only excuse he had for what could only have been the
hallucinations he experienced next.
Because the only people in that room, in that bed,
were himself and Gabby. But there were two sets of
hands on him. Two mouths biting, licking and sucking his skin. And while Gabby
rubbed herself against his spine, groaning softly, someone else settled between
his thighs.
Pinned, clutching the pillow with both hands and unable to move, Joe
felt a second set of hips move against his. A second set of hands gripped and
spread his ass. A second voice was moaning, and somebody else was shoving into
him. He screamed into the pillow as he felt a thick, wet, almost unbearably hot
bulk stretching his anus, pumping into him. The rhythm of the thrusts rocked in
time with the sliding of Gabby along his back, as if the two were in concert.
Using him to pleasure themselves.
But there were only two people in that room.
In that bed.
Gabby bent down and bit the tender skin at the corner of his jaw, below
his ear, and somehow that pushed him over an edge he hadn't realized he'd been
approaching. He screamed again, a strangled sound, as the ... phantom? ... hips pushed against him, then jerked a few times, and Gabby
moaned long and low in his ear. He was still trying to sort it out in his mind,
and she was still moving against him, when he fell into an exhausted sleep.
It had been a pleasant evening, even without his Olivia. The man had
been delicious. He was a good Catholic boy, and he'd been good a long, long
time. Caleb had enjoyed breaking him in again. He enjoyed the aftermath, too. The nightmares, just below the surface, tapping into the deepest
shadows of the good doctor's soul. When Joe woke in the morning, he
wouldn't remember his dreams. And Gabby would be gone. Caleb would see to that.
Jack was alone, his last friend deserting him in fear of his
unrestrained violence. The sickness would eat at him, until Caleb had no
further use for him, then it would kill him. Caleb would see to that.
He had gathered his forces, created his alibi, inhabited his spy. Now it
was time to claim what was his. Olivia would come to him. Caleb would see to
that, too.
end