Title: Sweet Dreams Author: Kelandris the Mad Fandom: View Askewniverse Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob Rating: I'd say NC-17, but this is old-style movie-theatre XXX, I'm thinking. Status: New; posted on 11 September 2002. No, it is *not* a patriotic piece. Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note... Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net Series/Sequels: One-shot. Disclaimer: Nobody makes money off this but the people who deserve to. Hopefully that's still mostly Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes and View Askew Productions. Notes: I read the "Dangerous Territory" series over again to the tune of a `celestial bells' version of Manson's "Sweet Dreams (are made of this)" midi. So I thought, what the hell, songfic the cover. Summary: Jay has bad dreams and needs some help to shake them off. Warnings: Usual stuph--bad childhood flashes, Jay's dad being a waste of oxygen, homosexuality, active active boys (whew!), sex, drugs, rock n' roll. Okay. No drugs. Well, drug *references*. I think all of one drug reference. Oh, and I'm either in prime Jay- mode or I've lost all ability to write with precise grammar and correct English. "Sweet Dreams" by Kelandris *Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?* *there were knives in his hands and he was coming for me, coming for me and I was too little to get away and I tried crawling out the window but I fell, I fell and I hit the ground hard and then I heard him say, "Shit, fucker can't do *anything* right, can `e? Fuckin' little retard...Cindy, you slut! Come out here an' pick up your fuckin' son!"* *Travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something.* *I tried to wake up then, that was the first time, I tried to wake up and I turned over and saw a flash of wall, but then my fuckin' dad walked out of it and this time he has his pants open and his cock in his hands and I can't turn over fast enough as he sniffs my hair, pulling me close, saying, "C'mere, Daddy wants to show you somethin'..."* *Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused.* *and I really tried to wake up then, I tried to wake up and I thought I heard these little whimpering noises and they might've even been from me, and I'm turning, and I'm turning, and my fuckin' dad is *every*where, how the fuck does he *do* that, and now the lightning's going again, the lightning flashing off the knives and his smile and the glitter in his blue, blue eyes--* *Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?* And I jackknife up, out of the bed, screaming, my feet tangling in the covers, and that's the first time I go down, hard, my chin clocking on the edge of the doorframe, the door into Bob's room. My teeth click together sharply and I whimper, waiting to feel the hot breath on the back of my neck. And suddenly everything spins around, dark and bright, and I remember, I am *not* fucking alone here. I gots an elsewhere to be. *Travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something.* I stumble up, still only half-awake, halfway out of dreaming, and open the door, lunging through it. And it all must have been happening in slow motion, everything, because Bob's just sitting up, Bob and his dark, dark eyes I'd never see my dad's in, and his belly, and his big arms, and his round face...Shit, my dad was all planes and angles, like me, ribcage for twenty miles and legs longer, but I know now, I see it, Bob's never gonna be like that, never remind me of my fuckin' dad. And right now, that is the best news in the fuckin' world. *Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused.* And he's opening his mouth, that rosebud mouth open in a little O, and I don't give him time to speak, not that he fuckin' would anyway, I just lunge for him. I race for the bed, shuddering, needing to feel something, needing to feel something other than the knives my mind invents and the memories of my dad my mind didn't have to. I race for him, for safety, for Bob, and burrow into him when I get there, my long feet kicking the covers into disarray, my arms wrapping around him, and I bury my face in the side of his neck. "Bad dreams," I whisper. "Bad dreams. Bad fuckin' dreams." "It's okay," he says softly, his arms rising to hold me lightly, like he's afraid to hold me tight. And it is. I know it is. I know I'm safe here. *I wanna use you and abuse you. I wanna know what's inside you.* And my mind snaps again, light and shadow, fragments of the past and future, and I'm suddenly wondering whether I'd hate it or love it if his arms were tight around me. I used to fuckin' hate it when my dad'd pull me close. I knew what he wanted, I knew what he'd make me do, and I hated every fucking inch of him I had to swallow. But Bob. This is Bob. This is the safety net and the temple, the high and the low, my `heterosexual life mate'. I nearly giggle over that. I am all about the pussy, man, ever since I ran away from my fuckin' dad, but, you know, it's all water under the life raft after a while. You live a life and make some sacrifices, some compromises, use a little flash here, a little skin there, it all works out...and you can only be so fuckin' picky, you know? And suddenly, I want to know. I need to know. I pull my head up, shaking my hair back, and I just look at him. He's so fuckin' smart, he can think circles around the circles he thinks around me, but he ain't gonna see this comin', I can guaran- damn-tee it. I lean up on the bed, moving away from him a little, and immediately, his arms loosen that much more. He's just barely holding on to me now, and I'm wondering. I'm wondering. And before I stop wondering, I lean forward, kissing him. *I'm gonna use you and abuse you. I'm gonna know what's inside.* First kiss is nothin', just a brush of skin on skin, but fuck, did those dark eyes get wide. Second kiss I let linger for a bit, and shit, I'm tense. I'm breathin' funny and everything, and my arms snake up around his neck, and I lean in more, still kissin' him. And the second kiss morphs into the third, and suddenly, I can barely breathe, because his arms are tight around me, tight like fuckin' steel bands, and he's making this weird little sound in the back of his throat...I'd say sobbin' or some shit, but fuck, this guy *never* cries, you know? Oh, I give him shit for tearin' up over some stupid chick flick, now and again, but that's all, you know, just a little mist, just a little silver on the horizon. Me, I get monsoon season now and again, which I try to reserve for the fuckin' room *alone*, `cause no one but Bob would understand, an' sometimes, I think even he's clueless about why. And fuck, but his lips are soft. Actually, now that he's all pressed against me and shit, I'm feeling lots of softness. His big belly, his thighs, his lips...but the hard places in between disorient the rest of me. Muscles stand out in his arms around me, and he's kissing me fiercely, with a tongue that feels like it could lift rebar, and I'm feeling something huge, something hard and long and fuckin' *huge*, between those soft thighs. Okay, we can all admit it now, this is a little scary. What the fuck's he got down there, a club? Man. Or maybe, hell, maybe that's where he keeps his baseball bat at night, so intruders won't steal it? Shit...if that thing's real...Bob, it's been nice knowin' ya, hope you have fun plannin' the funeral. And I can't breathe. Like that, he's kissed the air out of me. Well, that and stress and tension and my brain screaming at me for being a fuckwit and what the hell do I think I'm doin', anyway? This is my fuckin' *roommate*, here, lest we all fuckin' forget! This is *not* a fuck `em and kick `em one-night-stand, `kay? This is the guy I share everything with. Now I wanna share his dick too? He moves, hearing me gasp, releasing me a little, and pulling my shirt off before I even know it. His tongue and lips trail kisses over my neck, over my shoulders, down my chest and fuuuuuck�I might be too stupid not to go through with this. His tongue curls around one of my nipples and I feel it spring into a pebble-hard nub, harder than when girls kiss me. Shit. I am such a fag for you, Bob. Why'n't you ever tell me? *Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you.* "Hey, um..." I swallow, pushing his head away, when everything in me wants to pull it lower and just let that tongue go. Bob looks up, leans back, and man, I'm all impressed and shit all over again. Any other chick, hell, any other fuckin' *guy*, *fuck*, he'd be sneerin' and shit, sayin', what now, you gots cold feet or some shit? Not Bob. Not my Bob. He's just waitin', you know, seein' if I changed my mind or somethin'. Um. I don't think so. I just...I just...somethin'... "You, uh..." I start, and shake my head again. "You cool with this?" And shit, there he goes again, motherfucker actually thinks about the question. He looks down at his big flat hands for a sec, thinkin' it over. Then he looks up and nods. He raises his eyebrows, I see that through the streetlight comin' through the windows. *You?* that look says. "Yeah, um...I think." I smile, I think it's a goofy face and all that, because he grins in that lopsided way he only does when I'm being a complete freak. But right now, I don't fuckin' care. We just said somethin' to each other. I think. Aw, what the fuck. I lunge for him again, toppling him to the bed, pulling off his shirt as he falls. An' he's still smiling, still smiling when I shuck off my shorts quick, still smiling when I pull off his shorts, but then I see the Thing I've just released. Holy Mother of God, am I in fuckin' trouble. I look up. Shit, he's stopped smilin'. Now he looks all nervous and shit. I bite my lip, thinkin'. This could take a while. While we're waitin' it out, he decides to put some pressure on, and leans forward, layin' his head in my lap. I think, cool, catch some z's, man, it's chill, until he reaches out the tip of his tongue and licks the head of my cock. I buck forward, and he's suddenly curving into me, pulling me into his mouth, and shit, it's warm and it's wet there and his tongue is moving and his hand is wriggling between my knees and he's parting my legs and I can't move but to move my hips, move my hips forward while his hand cups my balls, the fingers moving over the skin and...shit, who the fuck is makin' all that noise? Oh, fuck. It's me. Heh. I make to apologize or somethin', but all that comes out is `hrrr...wwhh...fuh..." Shit, I can't even form fuckin' words now. Boy needs to give me a space to breathe here, or...shit! He's...oh...my God...nibbling...oh God...and...and...there's a...finger...moving...into me... I scream, arching forward, and I wanna warn him, but shit, my tongue won't, it won't, and, oh God, more fingers, and I can't, shit, I, words are just fuckin' *gone*, how wrong is *that*, and he's...he's...oh, God, his tongue, the tip of his tongue...it's in that little slit in my cock and he's�and his tongue's wrapping around and...FUCK! He pulled back a bit, inhaling, and the rush of cold air fuckin' did me in. I must be easy or some shit, man�and who the fuck taught him to do that? *Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused.* Oh, Christ. He's pushin' me down on the bed. He's pullin' my legs up. Shit, his eyes look like they're on fire. I ain't never seen him like this. And *fuck*, I ain't never seen his cock like *that*. Shit, I seen him in the shower and it didn't look that big. And long. And *purple*...oh, man, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die I'm gonna die... "Shhh," he says. He lays a hand on my chest and tension just drains outta me. How he do that...I blink, looking up at him, and he leans down, kissing me tenderly. Oh, man, I could fall for this fucker...an' then I feel him, pullin' out his fingers...Shit, it feels like he had half his hand inside me, I never fuckin' noticed. He leans up, his eyes still have that weird deep glow, and he's breathing like a bellows. I watch his big chest rise and fall, rise and fall, and it nearly distracts me from when he parts my ass cheeks and pushes the head of his cock inside. Doesn't entirely distract me, though. I yelp, and tense up, and he yelps, and his eyes bug out, and we both fall over each other apologizin' and shit. An' then he picks me up, drapin' my legs around his hips, and he's holding me and kissin' on me an' shit. Man. This is sweet. This is too sweet. I suddenly flash on panic, wondering if this is all a fuckin' dream, and I start to pull back, and Bob wraps a hand around the back of my neck. "Shh," he says again. He kisses me. Right. Fuck if it's a dream, least it's a motherfuckin' *good* one for a change. "Ready?" he says. I don't answer, I'm so lost in his eyes. Shit. I ain't *never* seen him look this intense at anyone he didn't beat the shit out of later. And not all the time then. He taps my cheek and I blink, shaking my head. "Jay," he says breathlessly. "Need...an answer, here." "Yeah, man," I say. I'm gasping too. His huge head is inside me, and I'm wonderin' when the rest of his huge cock will follow, and I'm wonderin' if I'm gonna make it through this shit... "Okay," he gasps, and puts his hands on my hips. Oh, now, wait, dude, I don't think this is such a fuckin' good idea-- And he pulls down, pushes up, and FUUUUUUUCK... ...he's...in...side...and...oh...God... --it's good, it's good and it's fine and it's good, and it hurts like fuck and it's burning and he's too fuckin' big and it *hurts*, man, it hurts *bad*, but it hurts in that fuckin' good way, and oh, fuck, am I even making sense? Shit... I realize I'm babbling, just fuckin' babbling, but I think he's too busy concentrating on not passing out right now to hear me. He's got this stunned-by-the-sledgehammer look on his face, and he's gasping, and trembling all over, and I can hear his voice for the first time babbling back. "So tight," he's saying, "so tight, so hot, oh, God, so *hot*...oh, Jay, oh, God, Jay, fuck, fuck, oh..." He's trembling so hard he's shaking *me*. Shit, it's like sitting on a giant vibrator, and my eyes roll up in my head for a while. It's too fuckin' good, too intense, too *much*...I'm clutching at him, and babbling still, and in horror the words I'm sayin' suddenly sink in and I wanna climb off the bed and flee into the motherfuckin' night. Only I'm all impaled and shit, and I can't fuckin' move. I can't believe what I'm sayin', either. Motherfuck. "Fuck me," I hear me say, "fuck me, fuck me, yeah, fuck, fuck, harder, yeah, gimme everything, fuck me *harder*, yeah, make me *feel* it, yeah, wanna feel every fuckin' *inch* of you in me, Bobby..." Shit, I am such a slut. Did I know this? Did Bob know this? Did-- FUUUUUUCK, he thought I was serious! He's pushing me down on the bed again, and he has an ankle in each hand, and he's *pounding* my ass, shit! And I'm arching off the bed and begging for more and never did I want a fuckin' gag more in my *life*, man, I cannot *believe* the shit I'm sayin' to him! But it's makin' him crazed, it's makin' him thrust so hard into me, so deep, so...fuck...hard... I'm whimperin', tossin' my head back and forth, my mouth hanging slack�I'm just makin' these sounds now, just these deep, primal moans and shit, and it's like feedin' the boy liquid testosterone or somethin'. I'm almost expectin' to see steam pourin' out his nostrils and shit. And fuck, I gotta, I gotta, my hands dive for my dick and I sigh as I wrap my fingers around it and start to stroke, get a good rhythm goin', and fuck, if Bob don't *growl* at me, knock my hands away. Fucker! I whine at him, whimper, arch towards his straining chest, and slide my fingers from his hips up to his nips and down. I watch him twitch, tossing his dark hair over his shoulder, and figure I can stealthy-sneak my hands back down to crotch level. Fucker catches me, snarls this time, and grabs my arms, pinning them over my head. He's leaning forward now, pullin' out of me a little to do it, and restin' his full weight on me. Fuck, he's a heavy shit, and oh, there's something in me that wants this, so bad, so fuckin' bad...I'd throw my arms around him if the fucker wasn't holding `em. But I pop my hips up, wanting more of him, right as he thrusts, and you know, that shit works just like the vids say it do. Shit, yeah, he slides in sweet like sugar, his hips rolling against mine, and man, he looks motherfuckin' crazy, like if he blinks or some shit I'm gonna evaporate or somethin'. I just kiss him, nearly crying, `cause I want him so bad but I want some for me, too, and this ain't enough, this ain't enough, this ain't nearly fuckin' enough-- Oh. Wait. Ahhh...I arch up, spread my legs wide, clamp `em around his hips and buck as hard as I can. Oh, *sweet*...there's enough padding on the boy that I can wedge my dick in between his hip and his thigh, and now I'm, I'm, well, shit, fuckin' the wedge, I guess, but fuck, it's good, it's sweet, it's better `n dope, and fucker is *all* fuckin' mine, *now*...I grunt, thrustin' at that weird fuckin' angle, and Bob's whimperin' now, bucking against me, sayin' my name like he's prayin' or some shit... An' my eyes cross, everything goes blurry, and I feel my balls draw up and that little electric spark of tension through my belly. An' then I'm comin', comin' my brains out, comin' so hard it almost hurts, oh, fuuuuck... An' he leans back, grabs my hips, thrusts in so deep I almost feel like if I swallow I'll feel this bulge in my fuckin' *throat*, and *roars*...there ain't no other fuckin' word for it. He was sayin' my name, and moaning and whimpering and then he was all big chest and wild eyes and fuckin' *screamin'* an' everything... An' then it's over. He pulls out, makin' us both twitch, and collapses, narrowly missing bashing in something I like unbroken on the way down. He's layin' with his face half pressed into the blankets and one eye is just rollin' towards me, staring at me. Warm chocolate with the fire of the sun at its heart. Makes me shiver. "Hey," I say. Damn, I'm clever after sex. What a fuckhead. "Hey," he gasps. Well, shit. Maybe I'm not the only one. "I love you," he follows, and shit, I am the only one. I blink. Damn, it didn't seem to work. I blink again. "Wha?" "Love...you," he gasps. He closes his eyes, or at least the one I can see, and just lays there for a minute, breathing hard. Shit. I *am* dreaming. I nearly cry, wonderin' when my fuckin' dad's gonna pop out with some new horror-movie contraption. Really wishin' I hadn't gone to see Feardotcom last weekend. I reach out, trying like hell to convince myself I'm okay, and pinch the one nip on Bob I can see. He gasps, arching off the bed, staring at me with dead murder in his eyes. Oh, and shock. *Gonna use you and abuse you. I'm gonna know what's inside you.* His eyebrows waggle and his mouth turns down, Bob-ese for "What the fuck was *that* for??" My mouth twitches. "S'posed to pinch someone when you think you're dreamin', dude," I say sullenly. Fucker. Why he always gotta spoil everything...Oh. That's me. *I'm the fucker. "You pinch *yourself*, nimrod," he says in a really irritated voice. Aloud, by fuck. I blink again. "Oh. Mebbe that's why it never worked." Oh. And that means I'm not dreaming. Hey. I'm not dreaming. This is reality. Fuck, yeah! I scramble over him again, kissin' on him, and push him down on the bed again. We go down in a sweaty, sticky tangle of limbs, and we're both laughing at the end of it. "Hey," I say brightly. "Shower? And then round two?" Bob shakes his head. "Beat. Too beat to--" I pout. "Shower? C'mon, we both need one. C'mon, shower wit me." He looks down, then sighs heavily, shaking his head and shrugging. "What the hell," he says, and struggles to his feet. I watch that round white ass jiggle away and nearly grin, hopping off the bed after him. Okay. No more sex in bed. You din't say *nothin'* `bout sex in the shower. An' next time, Bobby, you the one underneath. I'm gonna show you some *real* hip action, yeah. END ***** Kelandris the Mad oh, these illusions are drowning me