Reach for the Sky

The exhaustion from training as hard as I had been hadn’t been enough to counter my insomnia, Achilles and I still sat up at night and watched the History and Animal channels, and were normally joined by Travis before he could have a night terror. After our first official fight - how could anything be official with us when we weren’t ever official to begin with - I had tried to avoid him for a while, but failed miserably as I lived in his house and used his equipment on a daily basis.

“Scottie, please don’t be mad at me any more,” He said, wrapping his arms gingerly around my shoulders as he joined me on the couch to watch a program about the history of Motocross.

“Sorry. I need to act like a ten year old for a little longer.” I tried to scoot away from him, to the other side of the couch, but he restrained me.

“Please,” I frowned at him, but let him pull me closer to his chest and rain kisses down on my cheeks and neck. “So are you ready to leave tomorrow?” He asked, and I took the moment of silence that followed as an opportunity to finally press my lips firmly to his - I had been avoiding him for so long that I had nearly forgotten how he made me tingle in that strange, happy way. Not really, but I did miss the sensation.

“Of course I’m ready. I haven’t been able to practice like I wanted to, and I’ve gained twenty pounds in a week. I’m so prepared.”

“Oh shush, you haven’t gained any weight at all.” Travis set me on his knee easily as if I were a little kid. “You’re lighter than a feather. Hell, you’re lighter than the knee braces I have to wear.” He laughed, as I set my face in the space between his collarbone and chin and traced the pattern on his boxers dangerously close to the bulge between his legs. “Stop that, brat. Unless you plan to follow through this time, knock it off.”

“Do blue balls affect your performance on the track?” I teased, as I straddled his legs to kiss him thoroughly. In his defense, I had been teasing him a little more ruthlessly than normal before he and I had fought, and I had noticed the guys were teasing him as well. They usually taunted him while I wasn’t around, but sometimes I walked in on Bell or Special Gregg giving him a hard time about how he hadn’t gotten laid yet, to use their terms.

“The guys won’t leave me alone about you, and that does.” He laughed as I kissed his neck.

“I’m sorry. Is it frustrating?” Travis pulled my face to his a little more forcefully than I had anticipated, and entwined his fingers in my hair.

“You’re frustrating.” His hands danced across my back gently - I wore a sports bra and all of the cuts on my back were exposed, Travis’s fingers traced the puckering lines.

“It’s what I do best.” His lips enveloped mine, his hands moved slowly down my back toward the basketball shorts I wore - his, actually - as if he were going to remove them. “Hey hey hey, stop that.” Travis groaned in protest, his face buried between my breasts.

“Why?”

“Because we’re currently in your living room.”

“But everyone’s asleep,” He murmured into my neck, reaching feebly after me as I stood up and turned off the television. “I don’t want to go to bed,” Silently, I drew him by the hand down the hallway; Achilles whined as I shut him out of the bedroom behind Travis and made me feel horrible.

At that point, when I closed the door without letting the dog in, Travis had gotten the point. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply as we stood in the middle of the room, my hands fumbled with the waistband of his boxer shorts, not really knowing what to do next - probably because my brain was in sensory overload. Suddenly, Travis held me out at arms length by my upper arms (thank God he didn’t grab my shoulders), I couldn’t see his eyes in the pitch-blackness of his room, but I could tell he was surveying me as if his night vision was far superior to my own.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to remove an injured woman’s clothes. Man that sounded perverted.”

“Want some advice?” I could hear his nod more than I saw it. “You’re dealing with a tough injured woman. Don’t worry about it.” I knew his devilish grin mirrored my own as his fingers wrapped around the hem of my bra, and lifted it gently over the cuts on my back before he tore it off over my head; I pulled him back to my chest and allowed his tongue to fight against mine as I again fought with his boxers.

“God you have big hips, Travis.”

“Actually, that’s a blood sac from falling yesterday.” I giggled at him, finally managing to remove the boxers, which left him standing naked in front of me. Desperate to “get back in the lead,” Travis slid a finger under the basketball shorts I wore and let them fall to the ground, and then wondered why my ass was still covered by a layer of fabric when he grabbed it.

“Damn it.” Instead of getting frustrated as I would have, Travis started at the top again, cupping a breast in one palm as the other slowly tracked down my flat stomach until it found the seam where flesh and fabric met so he could tear it off.

From there, it was no holds barred. Viciously, he pushed me to the bed on my back; I fought back, flipping him over with surprising ease so I could straddle his stomach to kiss him gently - a stark contrast to the way my fingernails gripped his sinewy shoulders. Slowly, we wrestled our way up the bed until my head thumped on the headboard and one of his hands shot out to cover the point of impact while the other reached for his nightstand. I gasped as he spun me around, his hips gently resting against mine as he frantically pulled open the first drawer and fumbled about for a condom.

“Travis,” I tried to make the soft moan as desperate as possible, very aware of the hard organ which lay across my stomach; he swore under his breath and finally I heard the sound of foil ripping open. I pressed my lips to his while he tried to slip the condom on, I felt him freeze so I pulled back. “Someone can’t multi-task,” He stuck his tongue out at me - I could see that much in the dim light - and focused enough to roll the condom on.

I could almost hear his pre-game mantra float through his head as his hands steadied my hips, lining them up with his - “Do a good job, do a good job. Pin it to win it. Lord help me,” - and I wrapped my arms around his neck in an attempt to soothe him.

“Are you sure, Scottie?” He was too sweet, sometimes. Too courteous.

“Never have been more sure.” I strained upward to find his lips, but his head fell to my chest. “Tease!” I gasped, as he nibbled gently on one of my nipples, manipulating the other breast with a calloused hand. I could feel his grin into my breast, and I resigned myself into subordinance, twisting my fingers through his fragrant, soft brown curls and gripping his shoulder.

“Come here, sweetheart,” His lips searched for mine, tracking up my face as his body moved up mine. His body against mine was the culmination of feelings I knew we had both harbored for months - maybe even since I had arrived.

“Scottie,” He moaned my name and stiffened before he finally let himself fall into my arms, and I ignored the pain from my shoulder, my back, and my knee as I wrapped my arms around his chest, pressing my face to his neck. Travis nuzzled my face with his before he pulled away, to dispose of the condom. Once his weight lifted off of me, I realized my back was bleeding on his sheets.

“Shit,” I sat up as the light flicked on, illuminating his worried face as he stood beside his bed, naked as the day he was born. “I think I’ve ruined your sheets,” He didn’t seem to care about the white sheets as he inspected my back with shaking hands.

“I’m such an idiot, I completely forgot about your back,”

“Then I’m an idiot too, because I definitely didn’t notice.” Travis sighed, and reached out to me; I crawled across the bed to settle my face against his chest, sitting while he stood.

“Are you alright?”

“What a dumb question.” I looked up at him, grinning broadly. “Of course I’m alright. It’s not your fault I was stupid and landed on my head. Come here.” I wrapped my arms around his slight waist and pulled him down onto the bed beside me, he gently placed his hands flat against my back.

“I’m so-”

“Travis Alan Pastrana, don’t you dare apologize for what you just did. Don’t you dare.” From outside the door, Achilles whined quietly, as if telling us our time was up and he wanted to go to bed. The dog wouldn’t sleep if he wasn’t less than a foot away from me. “Can I let him in?” I asked apologetically, getting up before he nodded.

“Let me see your back,” Travis followed me to the door, which I opened enough for Achilles to slip through before I closed it again. Delicately, he traced each and every one of the long lines down my back - some had healed, some were age-old scars, and the vast minority were actually bleeding. Travis had noticed this, and as he dabbed at the bleeders with an old t-shirt, he asked about the scars.

“I’ve had other bad wrecks before. If you look at them, they’re actually tire tracks. Someone ran me over after I fell off my bike. Landed on me, actually.” He winced, and pulled me into his arms.

“Let’s go to sleep, then. There’s nothing we can do to save the sheets anyway.” I smiled as he turned the light off and rested my head on his chest, drifting off almost instantly.