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: Kelandris
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 the Mad

*Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?*

*there are knives in his hands and he's comin' for me, comin' for me and I'm too little to get away and I try crawlin' out the window but I fall, I fall and I hit the ground hard and then I hear 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 try to wake up then, that was the first time, I try to wake up and I turn over and see this flash o' wall, but then my fuckin' dad walks 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, pullin' me close, sayin', "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 try an' wake up then, I try to wake up and I think I maybe hear these little whimperin' noises an', hells, they might even be from me, and I'm turnin', I'm turnin', and my fuckin' dad is *every*where, how the fuck does he *do* that, and now the lightning's goin' again, the lightning flashin' off the knives an' his crazy smile and the glitter in his blue blue eyes--*

*Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree?*

An' I jackknife up, out of the bed, screamin', my feet tanglin' 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* fuckin' 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 musta been happenin' in slow motion, everything, 'cos Bob's just sittin' 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 openin' 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, needin' to feel something, needin' to feel something other than the knives my mind invents and the memories of my dad my mind doesn't have to. I race for him, for safety, for Bob, and burrow into him when I get there, my long feet kickin' the covers into disarray, my arms wrappin' 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 wonderin 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, shakin' 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, movin' 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 wonderin'. I'm wonderin'. And before I stop wonderin', I lean forward, kissin' him.

*I'm gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside you*

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 makin' 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 feelin' 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 kissin' me, fiercely, with a tongue that feels like it could lift rebar, and I'm feelin' somethin' huge, somethin' 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 screamin' 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...*everythin'* with. Now I wanna share his dick too?

He moves, hearin' me gasp, releasing me just a little, pullin' 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, pushin' 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, pullin' off his shirt as he falls. An' he's still smilin', still smilin' when I shuck off my shorts quick, still smilin' 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 curvin' into me, pullin' me into his mouth, and shit, it's warm and it's wet there and his tongue is *moving* and his hand is wrigglin' between my knees and he's partin' 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 wrappin' around and...FUCK!

He pulls 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, kissin' 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 breathin' 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 holdin' me and kissin' on me an' shit. Man. This is sweet. This is too sweet. I suddenly flash on panic, wonderin' 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. "Words."

"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...


--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 gaspin', and tremblin' 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 shakin' *me*. Shit, it's like sittin' 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 clutchin' 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 pushin' me down on the bed again, and he has an ankle in each hand, and he's *poundin'* my ass, shit! And I'm archin' off the bed and beggin' 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 hangin' 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 strainin' chest, slide my fingers from his hips up to his nips and down. I watch him twitch, tossin' 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 leanin' 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 somethin' in me that wants this, so bad, so fuckin' bad...I'd throw my arms around him if the fucker wasn't holdin' 'em.

But I pop my hips up, wantin' 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 cryin', '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, buckin' against me, sayin' my name like he's prayin' or some shit...

An' my eyes cross, everythin' 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, an' moanin' an' whimperin' an' shit, an' 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.


"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 laughin' at the end of it.

"Hey," I say brightly. "Shower? An' 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, shakin' his head.

"What the hell," he says, and struggles to his feet. I watch that round white ass jiggle away and nearly grin, hoppin' 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.

Kelandris the Mad
oh, these illusions are drowning me

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