Part Eight
By Alisha

This one is rated NC-17.

Disclaimer: Pacey a bitter, bitter man? Now would the real owners of him do that? Nah. He's not mine, and neither is Joey. I can lay a proud claim to Carlos, though.

Author's Note: As always, feedback is very appreciated. Also please do not post without my explicit permission. Part nine . . . whenever.

Recap: Joey gets a warning from Carlos. After a semi-tender moment with Pacey, Joey decides to seduce him. In the bathtub, she relegated control back to him.

"A woman never forgets the men she could have had; a man, the women he couldn't."
-- Murphy's Law

She wasn't surprised. Pacey could go from sweet and comforting to a cold, distant bastard in a matter of minutes. In fact, Joey shouldn't have been surprised. It was the same Pacey she had always knew. Maybe his cold distance had intensified, but it was what she always knew.

Of course, the problem was that she wasn't sure what to do about anything anymore. In a way, she missed her stable life with Dawson; exciting it wasn't, but there were never any surprises anyway. Except for when Dawson finally grew a backbone and ran out of their wedding. Now everything was different.

Her vacation had been anything but. She was walking down a long, beautiful beach in Puerto Rico. It was overcast and grey. She could smell the hint of rain mixing with the salt water. She had wasted the more beautiful days on Puerto Rico concerned with anything but the weather. The thing with Pacey didn't seem to be working itself out, either.

It shouldn't bother me like this, she told herself. I should just use him to get laid while I'm here, and not think about anything else. It wasn't that easy, though. The whole problem was that it had never been that easy.

She stopped, and looked out on the breakwater. He was sitting near the end, examining the calm water. The calm before the storm, she thought. Reluctantly, she walked out there to him. She sat by his side without a word, dramatically wiping her hands to get the sand off them. He glanced at her, but quickly turned his attention back to the water.

"I missed you this morning," she said, pulling her legs to her chest.

"I don't think that we should be doing this," he said.

She laughed. "What? Fucking me just isn't enough?"

"It never was," he said calmly. "Besides, you were always the one fucking me."

"You are such an asshole, Pacey," she hissed. "You screw me all those times, and you never let me in! I never knew what you were thinking or feeling! Never!"

"The hell you didn't," he responded. "That last night you knew everything, and you made your choice."

"You made the choice," she said. "The next morning I woke up, and you were gone. Until a week ago, I never thought I'd see you again."

"Do you remember what you said?" he asked. She didn't respond, but just kept looking at the ocean. "You said that you didn't think I had any right to tell you that I cared for you. You said you didn't need someone like me to complicate your life. You said that sex was all that mattered to me, and that I'd lose interest in you if anything changed. You said that I was a good fuck, but there was no way in hell you would even think about seeing yourself with me in the future."

"We all say things we regret," she mumbled.

"I bet you're happy too, right?" he laughed. "I'm just what you said I'd be."

"No, I know that I did it to you," she said.

He laughed, and rolled his eyes. "Don't take all the credit, Joey. I did this myself."

"What do you want from me, Pacey?" she asked, loosing more energy with every word.

"Just let it go, Joey. That's all. Let it go."

"You haven't let it go," she said. "Don't pretend for one second that the reason you'd rather fuck me than talk to me has nothing to do with what happened between us before."

"Could you clarify?" he snapped. "It seems you've fucked me in so many different ways."

"Don't you talk to me like that!" she yelled. "It's time to face up to this, Pacey. Look at what you've become."

"It's got to make you feel good, though, right?" he asked calmly. "After all, you were right. Pacey fucked up his life. He's just a bartender. He drinks too damn much, and smokes too damn much, and has screwed too damn many women." He laughed wryly at her. "There's no way you'd ever want me over the Golden Boy--he was just too perfect. So, I took it into my own hands. I fulfilled your prophecy and then some."

"It wasn't a prophecy," she whispered. "It was a lie, it was a tool to push you away, it was me being scared. God, Pacey, don't you understand? What I said that night had nothing to do with you: I just needed an out, and that was the quickest one." She stopped speaking for a minute, deeply inhaling the ocean air. "It worked. You were gone by the next morning. And that's when being with Dawson began to make me so miserable."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" he asked. "Damn, Joey, you made your choice. Live with it!"

"I've had to live with it for every damn day of my life!" she yelled. "This hurt me as much as it hurt you. I wanted you! Can't you see that?"

He laughed and shook his head, throwing back another swig of bourbon. "I guess I can't."

She grabbed the bottle from his hands, and sent it crashing into a nearby rock. When she looked back at him, she saw his questioning look turn to one of amusement. "You bastard," she mumbled, before storming back toward the sand.

"Joey, wait," he said, chasing after her.

She refused to stop, or even look back. He'd gone too far this time. He firmly grasped both of her arms, not allowing her to move. "Let me go, Pacey!" she screamed, squirming.

Joey was strong when she was angry, as he fought to keep her there. Both fell to their knees, seeing who would outlast the other. Pacey finally pinned her on her back. His knees positioned on each side of her hips, his hands holding her wrists firmly to the sand.

"You wanted to make me go away," she said, looking him in the eye. "I'm going."

She glared into his eyes. They were unreadable as always. "Don't," he said, his tone barely audible, as he placed his fingers under her chin.

She could feel his breath on her face, and didn't know what to say. He brought his lips to hers, smothering any opposition she might have had. Internally she laughed. Maybe her being angry was some sort of turn-on for him.

She could hear screams in the background, as a steady rain began to fall. But they didn't move. She lifted her face to the sky, greeting the rain as Pacey moved along her neck. It felt like his hand was everywhere; grazing her thigh, tracing her navel, tangled in her wet hair, while the other pinned her arms over top of her head.

Her mind began to go crazy, and she began to wonder why this always happened. In a matter of seconds they could go from mortal combat to the carnal urge just needing to unite their bodies. And it had just been seconds too, because now she knew that she needed him--too much to walk away.

"Please, Pacey," she gasped breathlessly. He sat up slowly, and arched his eyebrow. "Now, Pacey, please."

He pushed at her shoulder. She complied to the silent request, rolling her onto her stomach, never leaving his watch.

His hands moved over her legs, his fingers plunging inside her. She gasped. He had the most incredible hands, and these wonderfully long fingers. Her only regret was that she couldn't see him.

When he was in control, he always went slowly. That was something she lacked completely. She couldn't control herself. His slowness felt like her test. It tormented her. It never took her long to want him.

He grabbed the hair near the nape of her neck, pulling her head backward. She moaned softly.

Everything felt right when he finally entered her. She screamed out as his thrusts became harder, rougher, until he followed her climax. When he pulled out, she felt less-whole. He stood, buttoned his pants, and headed back to the hotel. He left her there in the sand, only looking back once.

She began to cry softly, letting the rain wash her tears away. She had everything she wanted and needed from him physically, but mentally they lacked any stability. She didn't know how long this mental foreplay would keep him entertained.

She realized she was running out of time.

And right now, she realized that she didn't care.

* * * * *

Pacey sipped from a bottle of vodka, as he looked out his balcony door at the pouring rain. His life was getting too crazy, his thoughts more chaotic, and his emotions refused to stay in check. The inertia of it all was driving him crazy.

He didn't know what was happening to him anymore. It was like he was outside his body, just watching what it did. Leaving her there in the sand was callous. He kept hoping that maybe this would be enough to keep her away. He hoped that by now she knew the kind of man he really was.

This time, he took a larger drink, just needing to make the noise in his head stop. Sometimes the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her, others he wanted to make her bleed, to make her feel the same pain she had put him through.

What conscience he had left fought to make him feel guilty, and as far gone as it was, it was winning. He felt horrible. The cumulation of everything that was happening was just too much. She would get over this, he told himself. But he wasn't about to let her get into his life again, into his head again. That was what had done all the damage in the first place. He took another drink to quiet the thought that it was already too late.

* * * * *

Joey sighed as she sipped the last of her Long Island Iced Tea. Three and she wasn't drunk enough. She looked at the bartender. "Give me a tequila--make it a double." The bartender sat her shot in front of her, and she quickly drank it.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Josephine?" she heard from behind her. She would recognize that thick Puerto Rican accent anywhere.

"Carlos," she stated. "Can't find another woman to kick your game to?"

"They're not as much fun as you are, beautiful," he said slyly, resting his elbow on the bar and leaning back.

The bartender sat another shot in front of her. "I'm afraid that I'll be no fun tonight," she slurred.

"And exactly what are you trying to forget?"

"The larger portion of my adolescent and adult lives," she said, haughtily.

"I have a way to make you forget for a few hours," he said, suggestively raising his eyebrow.

"Go screw yourself, Carlos," she said, throwing back another shot.

"I'd rather be screwing you," he said, smiling widely.

She examined him, seriously considering the proposition. He was a fine looking man, and she had to admit that when he smiled those dimples turned her on. He had a nice body, and looked like he would be a satisfying lover. Most importantly, he looked slow and gentle. That's what she needed after the mind fuck she had gotten in the sand this afternoon.

"What makes you think you can handle me?" she teased.

"What makes you think I'm not up for a good challenge?" he shot back.

"What makes you think that I'm even considering this?"

"Because you haven't said no yet," he said.

She smiled flirtatiously. "At least you're paying attention," she giggled.

He smiled, moving his head to the side and looking up at her. "It gets better," he said, softly running a finger along her jawline.

She liked the way he was looking at her. He looked at her like she'd hoped Pacey would.

He smiled a crooked smile, as he grabbed her hand. "Come with me," he said.

"Okay," she said, standing and following him to the elevator.

* * * * *

To Be Continued . . .

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