Seventeen - 8. Chapter 8

"H- H- hi," I choked out, the blood rushing from my head elsewhere.

As he loomed over me, the raw sexual energy emanating from him was making me dizzy. He's here, he's forgiven me. We just held our stare for minutes, before he crouched down next to the bed, his perfect jaw line dusted with light stubble. I raised my hand to brush his cheek, to make sure he was real, to prove I was finally getting the man I'd wished for, for so long.

Before I could move any closer to him, Brandon took my hand in his own, bringing it to those beautiful lips, and then placed a kiss across my knuckles. As he stared intently into my eyes without breaking the connection, he stood up and began to unbuckle his belt.

Slowly and methodically he removed his ripped jeans, exposing his strong thighs. I had seen them in action on the football field for so many years and knew they were going to be "exercising" for me. His tight polo boxers clung just nicely, cupping his package lightly. Taking all this in, we managed to keep eye contact, saying so many things, all these things that we needed to talk about, to understand, instantly crossing between us.

I knelt up, drawing closer to him, unbuttoning my shirt, without thinking or looking, as if I were under his spell. As I slipped it off I tilted my chin, searching his eyes for a sign. Leaning in, his nose brushed against my own three times from side to side, as though he was teasing me, then with one last nudge he pulled back and unbuttoned his own shirt.

Sweet Jesus, I'd forgotten how gorgeous he was. The way his undershirt concealed yet accentuated his torso, clinging to his slim waist and stretching across his toned chest, with just the slight glimpse of his collarbone above. How I wanted to press my lips to the hollow and work my way up to his mouth slowly, gently kissing along the way. His eyes refused to be ignored, though.

Appeasing my need for contact, I stroked the backs of my fingers up his torso, turning my palm to his chest. I ran it to his collar bone, which I then brushed with my thumb. He moaned, dropping his head back, his eyes closing, he turned his head just slightly, as if inviting me to drag my hand across his neck and back down his chest. As I brought my hand to the hem of his tank top, I slipped it underneath and felt the hot flesh beneath. Brand again locked eyes with me, his stare filled with lust.

Finally blocking those hypnotising emeralds from my view, he lifted his undershirt above his head. I got the full view of those abs I had admired for so long. I ripped my own pants off and pulled him on top of me. My mouth attacked his, his lips pressed hard to mine as my hands clutched the back of his head, running through his hair, pulling him further into me. His tongue fought for dominance as it entered my mouth, his nose crushed next to mine as he tried to devour as much of me as quickly as possible. It was so hot, he was like an animal, as though he had wanted this as long as I had. I had to show him that I had indeed wanted this as well.

I flipped him over and straddled him; he just smirked up at me. God I love him, but I'll wipe that smile of his face and make him moan like a bitch! I thought as I began trailing kisses across his neck and down his collarbone.

"Ooh," he breathed out in a moan.

His skin was warm and had a shimmer, thanks to the humidity of the room, so I ran my tongue down between his pecs. Looking back up, I noticed his smirk had disappeared and instead his mouth and whole face were showing the sexual pleasure that contorted his features. His eyes closed and his mouth shaped into an 'O' as he breathed out his moans. He was certainly sensitive and he reacted nicely when I squeezed his nipple, dragging my tongue over it to torture him more.

"I love you B," I exclaimed sincerely, raising my eyes.

Except those weren't his eyes looking back, they were Chris' and instead of showing signs of sexual pleasure, they were miserable and proclaimed defeat.

"You said you didn't want to hurt me..." He croaked.

My mouth dropped open, my chin touching the softer and less defined stomach that now lay beneath me, and I placed my hands on Chris' waist What the? I was kissing B, wasn't I? How did Chris get here? As these thoughts spun through my head I became increasingly confused, one minute I'm with Brand, the next he's turned into Chris? Chris rose from beneath me, wriggling out of my grasp.

"You, you said..." He looked down unable to keep eye contact, trembling.

Regardless of how confused I was at that moment, I felt awful, guilty. My heart broke for him and for the hurt in his eyes. I moved closer to him, not knowing what to say or do, but I knew I needed to comfort him, make this better.

"I'm sorry. I - I..." I exhaled, not knowing what say.

Taking his chin between my finger and thumb, I lifted his face so he'd look me in the eyes.

"I wanna fuck you, Brett."

WOAH! That was definitely Chris, how the hell? I thought as I again stared into the eyes of Brandon, the eyes that weren't his own. They were filled with, with something completely feral, sexual, and he pushed me down on my front across the bed. Looming over me, he growled "I'm gonna fuck you till you can't bear it."

"B! Please..."

"Shut up. " I felt his breath on the back of my neck, then a hand began to wrap around my throat. He pressed his other arm down on my back and then he started to move his hips forward.

This isn't my Brand, this can't be happening.

His grip tightened around my throat.

Oh god he isn't even going to use a condom!

I felt a searing pain as he began to enter me.

I have to get out of here, I have to... to...

"Brett!" someone called my name. "Brett"

Knock Knock Knock

Someone was knocking on my door.

"Brett. Get up!" It was my Mom.

So I did. I snapped out of my sleep and out of that dream.

Dream, a dream, it was all just a dream.