Title: Repression
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, no specific time mention
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: R for language. NC-17 for nonconsensual action, bondage, and of course, homosexuality.
Status: Posted November 2001 to the list; posted to this site 5 October 2004
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequels: None planned.
Disclaimers: Still making zip, zilch, nada writing about other peoples' creations. Jay and Silent Bob belong to Kevin Smith and View Askew Productions. And hell, at this point, though it's a side credit, to Miramax.
Notes: This was written on the same weekend as "Mine", "Twitch" and The Fic that Dare Not Speak its Name. I had put this on hold because a friend of mine wanted to review it for possible inclusion in a 'zine. She never got back to me and it's been at least six months. Her loss.
Summary: Bob has scary dreams.
Warnings: Bondage scenes, cutting, blood-drinking, Martha-Stewart-on-acid moments of set decoration. Bad dreams. Lethal weapons of at least two types. You've been warned.

by Kelandris the Mad

*At some point desires turn toxic. Repression of desire leads to obsession; obsession leads to darkness. It was a known psychological fact that up until that night, Silent Bob had never really considered. He and Jay were friends. That was all. Jay didn't know any more than that, and Jay didn't need to. Then came the night of the first dream. And the six that followed. And somehow, they just kept getting worse...*

(day 7)
*The room was suffocatingly hot. It was always suffocatingly hot. It was also dim. How it could be, with thick ivory and amber candles standing on nearly every flat surface, alight and glowing with flickers of gold fire, was something Silent Bob never questioned. Silent Bob never questioned it because he had more important things to consider.

*Namely, what he was going to do with Jay. Jay, who was naked and sheened with a layer of sweat that shone like glitter along the planes and angles of his body. Jay, who looked at him and trembled, curling his legs up, his lower lip trembling.

*Bob only laughed throatily, reaching for one leg and pulling it insistently down. He tied it to the bedpost with a silk scarf that gleamed in the dim amber light like blood. Jay whimpered. He pulled the other leg down, watching the slow rotation of Jay's hips moving forward to face him. As he'd suspected, his cock stood proudly at attention, even as Jay whimpered and squirmed, trying to get away.

*He tied the other leg to the bed, with a scarf that glittered with hints of gold, hints of copper, buried threads in a field of muted emerald green. Then he rose from the bed, moving to grab Jay's twisting arms, listening to the sound of his whimpering with relish. He leaned over the boy, pinning his arms at the wrists to the bed.

*His vision narrowed to Jay's face, this moment. He bathed in the unease that backlit those blue eyes, the fear that made Jay bite those narrow, mobile lips. No words pouring from him now; he just squirmed away, panting and whimpering, small piercing cries that did wonderful things to Bob's spine.

*He leaned down, one side of his mouth drawing up in a grin, moving in for a kiss. Every beat of his heart seemed to be pulsing through the head of his cock, and he brought it forward to graze across Jay's hot, pale skin.

*And Jay squirmed away, moaning "No..."*

With a cry, Bob sat up, head spinning. He was breathing as hard as if he'd been running to catch something, and as he lay back down, he realized with chagrin how hard he was. He bit his own lips as his hands moved underneath the sheet, grasping his cock firmly and beginning to pump it in long, smooth strokes, making his heart pound again.

Seven days. Seven days of...what, torturing Jay? And waking up wanting to go into the other bedroom, flip the blankets back, flip Jay's legs into the air and--

"Ahhh!" he hissed, his hand and cock spasming, and soon hot fluid was jetting over his fingers. He closed his eyes, listening to make sure he hadn't woken Jay in the process. What a fucked-up mess that would be, huh--Jay walking in on him wet (in so many ways) from dreaming of him. He doubted he'd be able to pass it off as just dreams, then.

But seven days of just dreams--that was kind of a record, even for him. Seven days of the hot, closed-in room, seven days of the guttering candles, and the smell of beeswax heavy on the air, and Jay's fear even heavier. And he was not fucking looking forward to tomorrow--another day of pretending he and Jay were just roommates, when all he could see behind his eyes was Jay, and silk scarves, and candlelight...

**Fuck. Just what I need. How the hell am I going to sleep now?**

(day 9)
*Candlelight again, this time less warm, a few windows scattered about to let out the heady odors of smoke and incense, to let in the wild air of the night. Candlelight, glowing through a glass vial with a long, narrow tube on the top. Candlelight, glowing through the amber fluid that swirled inside the vial.

*Bob lifted the tube to his nose, inhaling slowly. He smelled honey, and whiskey, blended together with an expert's touch. Smiling, he turned to the man on the bed, straddling him so that their flesh touched for the first time. It was overwhelming, and he closed his eyes, thrusting slightly against Jay's cock. His own was throbbing and growing longer.

Then he leaned forward, tipping the vial forward so that the spicy blend of sugar and alcohol could drip onto Jay's exposed chest. Sticky, warm, writhing--yes, just what he wanted. He leaned down further, pressing himself against Jay's body, and traced his tongue across honey-drenched skin. Jay gasped, arching forward, and Bob's smile widened. He poured more honey onto Jay's exposed neck, and licked from his collarbone up to his ears, listening to Jay cry out, twitching underneath him.

*"Bob," he gasped, "Bob, fuck Bob, fuck..."

*Bob bit the exposed lobe, running his teeth down the tendons on Jay's neck, then moved down, moving off Jay as he did. He lifted the vial, letting the honey drip at height onto Jay's twitching cock, each warm drop surprising a yelp out of the boy. Then he leaned forward, closer, closer, still closer--

*"Bob, no!" Jay cried, and Bob woke up again.*

This time his body hadn't waited for him to wake up; he felt the cold stickiness of come along his thighs and on the sheet covering him. Shit. Like he needed to be dreaming of the boy, it wasn't like he didn't get enough thoughts on his own just watching him move in front of him, or those eyebrows raise suggestively, or watching the moves on the boy when he danced...Shit, shit, he had to stop this. He had to. He couldn't take five more days of that dream, and five more days of watching Jay walk around, remembering the taste of honey and sweat.

**Nnnng. I can't do this.**
Wearily, he rose, grabbing clean clothes and walking out to the shower.

(day 17)
*Dark this time, dark, and the rustling of leaves overhead. The creak of rope, the creak of trees was the same as Bob wrestled Jay onto the altar, tying him down. He bent over the blond, fastening his lips to Jay's before a word could be uttered. It wasn't a kiss; it was a plundering of the space where Jay kept his moans.

*Every inch of skin Bob possessed was hypersensitive. The wind caressed his back, the stone grated in an oddly pleasant way along his belly. Every time Jay's skin met his, it jolted through him like touching a live wire. It was hard but satisfying work, pulling Jay taut by ankles and wrists, and stroking his fingers over Jay's upturned ribs brought half-gasped, half-shrieked sounds from the boy that were quite inspiring.

*A strip of white silk was the final, necessary detail, tied quickly around Jay's mouth to suppress any sound that might stop...anything. Bob's mouth grew wet at the thought, and he began to place careful kisses and small bites along Jay's neck, his shoulders, his belly, his legs. When he started to pull away from the twitching muscles on Jay's inner thighs, Jay's rampant erection tapped him on the jaw.

*Wouldn't do to neglect that, no...Inhaling, Bob leaned over, engulfing him between lips that had long desired just to kiss the blond, and Jay reacted as expected, crying out and arching off the stone. Soon, all too soon, Jay came, pumping heat and life and energy into Bob's waiting mouth, Bob swallowing it, salt and cream.

*Then he stood up, moving his hands into the pale starlight for the first time, and Jay began to scream, seeing the glitter along the blade he held in one tight fist. And Bob's hands moved, stroking Jay's long, strong legs, his narrow middle, his chest, his arms, all limbs tied fast to the stone. His hands moved, and where they moved, they left little nicks, and Bob tapped his fingers in the wounds, dotting Jay's pale skin with startlingly red dots. Then Bob's mouth moved, moving to each of the little wounds, filling his mouth with a different taste of salt...

"NOOO!" shrieked Bob, sitting bolt upright, his eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing. "No, Jay, noo!"

Jay burst in from the other room, shorts on askew, hair wild, eyes wilder.

"What the fuck, man, what is it?"

Bob shuddered once, all over, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Bad dream. Go back to bed."

"Fuck that, Lunchbox, you yell loud enough to wake the fucking block, you want me to just give it up and leave you here?"

His voice was angry but Bob could make out the concern in his face. Somehow, that made it worse. That, and the fact that he was still powerfully aroused. He shook his head again, trying to carefully lift a pillow around him to conceal the erection.

Instantly, Jay's eyes fastened on the spot, making out the distinctive raised form between his legs. He blinked, looking back up at Bob quizzically.

**I knew it. Of all the--**

Bob clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly.

"Damn it, Jay, go back to fucking bed!" he hissed.

"Not 'til you tell me what's up with what you're tryin' to hide, there." Jay's face set into a typical 'put-up-or-fuck-off' pose, then that suddenly melted away, and he tilted his head to one side, walking slowly towards the bed.

Bob's eyes widened. Don't sit down. Don't sit down, don't sit down don't sit--

He sat down.


Bob clenched the pillow tighter, feeling himself getting even harder, which he didn't think was possible, just looking at Jay's bare chest and glittering hair. He waited for the insult. He waited for the gay joke. He waited for the attack.

It didn't come. What did come, though, shocked him to his roots.

"Bob...you think dreams mean anything?"

Bob's mouth gaped open. Frantically, he reached for words to fill it.

"What?" he whispered.

Jay dropped his head, looking at his hands in his lap. A veil of golden hair fell over his face. It muffled nothing.

"Dreams," he said distantly. "You think dreams mean anything?"

"What..." Bob realized his mouth was dry, and swallowed. "What kind of dreams?"

"Like..." Now Jay was swallowing, and Bob leaned forward. It hurt, but he did it anyway, trying not to pinch himself too much.

"Like I had this one," Jay said quickly, "where you an' me are in the mall, and you're in that Batman outfit, only there's no hood, it's just you, lookin', lookin', I dunno, hurt and all scared and shit. An' I, it's like I don't fuckin' care, you know, and I just come at you, fists flying, and while you're duckin' away from me I'm tearin the clothes off you and pullin' you against the wall and..."

Now he looked up, and Bob could see sudden tears well in his eyes.

"And Bob, I don't wanna hurt you. An' I think, I think, maybe if I keep having dreams like these I will." Roughly, he knuckled the tears away, sniffing.

"Fuckin' nightmares, is more like it," he muttered.

"Like," Bob softly ventured, "me tying you to a bed in a room full of candles, only you don't want to be tied down, but I'm doing it anyway, and I'm kissing you, and you're saying no..."

He trailed off, his breath cutting off. **Holy shit. Now he's going to beat the shit out of me.**

But Jay only nodded, looking down again.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Like that." Then a trace of his former spirit reasserted itself, and he snarled, looking back up.

"Room full of candles? Shit, you are such a chick, dude."

He just shrugged, watching Jay. Jay looked away after a few moments, running his hands through his hair.

"So...uh...what do we do, Bob? How do we stop having these weird fucked-up dreams?"

"In your dream you're hurting me, right?"

Jay nodded, shoulders hunching forward.

"And you're stripping me and I'm saying no?"

Jay just gulped, biting his lips. Bob blinked for a moment, looking down at his lap. He swallowed, and inhaled for what felt like hours. Then he threw the pillow and the blanket aside.

"I'm not saying no now," he said softly.


And those were the only three words he heard for a while, because Jay pounced on him, licking his lips open, tangling their tongues together as he pushed Bob back on the bed. He swiveled his hips to one side, coming up hard against Bob's cock, nearly pushing its way free of his shorts at this point. He was so hard, it hurt, and feeling Jay that close, just about where he'd always wanted him to be, nearly made him come right then. Jay noticed the sudden sheen of sweat on his face and looked down, hooking a hand in Bob's shorts and pulling them down around his hips. His eyes widened as he curled his fingers around Bob's length, running his fingers gently from base to tip.

"Holy fuck," he breathed. "You're gonna kill me with this thing."

Then he looked up, a bright happy smile on his face.

"Be sure to die happy," he said, grinning for all he was worth. Bob let out the breath he was holding, grinning back. He growled low in his throat, reaching up for Jay, and Jay shrieked, tangling him in elbows and knees as they both tumbled to the floor.

"You know what they say," Bob murmured, breathing the words into Jay's ear, feeling him shiver. "If it doesn't kill you..."

"Keep doin' it until it does?" Jay said.

Bob laughed. "Shush," Bob whispered, and proceeded to rain kisses down on his lover's lips.

*At some point desires turn toxic. Repression of desire leads to obsession; obsession leads to darkness. It was a known psychological fact. Of course, once there's no more repression...it's just fun.*

Kelandris the Mad
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