The Thrill is Gone

Summary: Old addictions die hard. So do memories of old heartbreaks.

Author’s Note: I know the last update was all over the place, so I’m sorry. But hello? It’s too much fun to write a lemon scene, and for me, an argument as well. Arguments, embarrassing moments and smut, that’s what you’ll get from my fics. All of them.

Thank you for the beautiful feedback and attention you’ve given this story, one of my earliest LoMy pieces. Artwork might eventually follow, I’m up in the air, and it’s hard to find nice reference photos that fit what I’m looking for without getting the bottom of the barrel from an unfiltered Google search…*shudders* Check out my DeviantArt account for the LoMy folder of my gallery. I also back those files up on Livejournal under padnats_forever.

Damn. Too sweet…

Bella grimaced and automatically dumped her too-pale cup of coffee down the drain after one sip. Rene chattered away by her elbow as she continued making breakfast, but he wasn’t her principal distraction.

“We havin’ bacon, Maman?”

“Y’know it, petit,” she promised absently as she laid the tepid pink strips of meat in the skillet. “Wash y’hands.”

Rene proceeded to make a mess of the dish soap, humming tunelessly while Bella assembled the other ingredients and turned up the heat on the skillet. Her nerves were on edge, and she had a tension headache from grinding her teeth the night before.

It was happening all over again.

Julien’s mail was coming to the house, even after he promised her that he’d get himself a post office box. Bella fumed to herself, so afraid that she’d come unglued.

It’s jus’ til I get m’own place. Won’ even hafta stick around dis county pretty soon, chere. Need a physical address.

She didn’t want to be accountable for him. She wasn’t her brother’s keeper. Not anymore.

She fought back the bitter, tight little smile as she remembered that he was her older brother. He’d feigned protectiveness of her.

He was jealous. Julien was a fraud. A fraud.

*

“Bella, c’mere.”

“What? M’busy.”

“Aw, c’mon, chere,” Remy whined. He crossed the room and dragged her to her feet from where she reclined. She was all too reluctant to leave their queen-sized bed and its fluffy duvet when she was so exhausted.

Pregnancy sucked. Belladonna didn’t glow, in her humble opinion. Not unless you counted the flush of color that was left behind every time she bolted into the bathroom to hug the porcelain.

He tugged her along after him until she wrested her hand away from him. “Don’ rush me. Still feel like shit, Remy.”

“Awww,” Remy crooned, gently wrapping his arms around her waist. He could still accomplish that easily, since she was only four and a half months along. He kissed her cheek, and she sighed. “Still crummy, huh?”

“Don’ be gettin’ any ideas, chere.”

“Like what?” he asked innocently, pulling her further into his embrace. She braced her hands against his shoulders, halfheartedly shoving him back, but her fingers curled in his shirt collar.

“Y’know what. Ain’ in de mood t’play.” Her breasts were tender and swollen, unfortunately making them even more tempting to Remy. He loved caressing and soaping them in the shower, lately the only location where she welcomed his advances due to the soothing warm water.

“Ya in de mood fo’ somet’in’ fun, den?”

“Like what?”

“C’mon.” He nudged her in the direction of the kitchen.

Bella gasped, hands flying up to her mouth.

“Oh, my…” Her words failed her, and she turned to him with tears in her blue eyes. But when she let her hands drop, Remy was relieved to see her smiling, even laughing. “Look what ya went an did!”

Remy walked over to the large box and patted it. “Can’ wait t’put it together, eh petit?” The battery-operated swing was light blue and brand new, sporting kids’ show characters on the seat.

“It cost money,” she pointed out, but she was stil admiring it. “Where’d y’get it?”

Remy’s smile faltered a bit. “Julien.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “Where’d he get de money?”

“Said he had a lil’ somet’in’ set aside an’ he wanted t’get somet’in fo’ de baby. Said he couldn’ wait, chere. C’mon, tell Remy ya don’ like it!” he urged, gently spooning against her back and snuggling her. His hands palmed her belly protectively and he kissed her shoulder.

Guilt niggled at him, but he pushed it back down. This was a special moment for them to share, and them alone.

Belladonna’s pregnancy flourished and bloomed over the coming weeks. She carried high and round and was lit from the inside out with a radiant light. Remy never found her more beautiful, even while he dealt with her mood swings and complaints. He treated her as though she was made of glass in bed, frequently only holding her when she was too uncomfortable to make love.

It was killing him. So much of his desire and physical need was squelched and stifled, so many nights in a row. His thoughts drifted back to that clandestine, lazy afternoon. Julien’s stain still lingered on his flesh, marking him.

Julien stalked him throughout the house. He always found him alone and took advantage of any moment where he could steal a touch or a grope. Remy was loading the washer one afternoon in the hall while Bella dozed on the couch.

“How long ya gon’ take t’finish up? I need it next,” Julien grumbled from behind him. Remy flinched; he hadn’t even heard him approach. He was so close, Remy could almost feel Julien’s shins graze his own calves. Bent over the dryer while he changed loads, he felt vulnerable and at a disadvantage.

“Done in a sec.” He tried to straighten up.

Julien’s hand clapped his shoulder, gripping him to hold him still.

“What de fuck…? Leggo, now!”

“Ain’ in any hurry, now,” Julien slurred, grasping Remy’s hip and pulling him back against him. He ground against Remy’s ass so hard that the large, stiff knob beneath Julien’s jeans chafed his crease. Remy braced himself against the washer’s cool metal and pushed back, still struggling to rise. “Stay down,” Julien gritted through his teeth.

“Get de fuck off me!” Remy hissed, but he kept his voice low. His pulse raced and he felt his heart jittering in his chest. A cold sweat broke out over his skin. Bella was down the hall. He heard her deep breathing change to low snores from the couch.

Remy smelled alcohol on Julien’s breath. He was more aggressive with liquor in his system than when he was stoned. The fumes bathed Remy’s nape as he leaned over him, holding him down against the washer. The scent mingled with his panic, making him slightly sick.

He felt Julien’s smugness keenly, almost reading his mind. If Remy cried out, Bella would wake up. She would know.

Remy told himself that she might already know, that he had to give her more credit for having more insight…but she couldn’t. She couldn’t know, surely.

Julien jerked Remy’s jeans down his hips, scraping his skin roughly; he didn’t even reach around to unzip them. Remy winced at the discomfort and twisted around, swatting at his hands. Julien wasn’t having any of it.

His fist thumped Remy’s upper spine, the impact cramming his gut against the washer so hard it bruised his ribs. Remy felt nauseous, and it intensified when Julien reached into the back of his briefs, molesting him.

“Don’t,” Remy whimpered. Through the fist of terror squeezing his chest, Remy felt his body betraying him, dick rising while Julien roughly groped him.

“Miss me, chere?” he drawled, steaming his nape. Remy steeled himself and whipped his face away from him when he tried to brush his lips over the crest of his cheek. “T’ink ya did.”

“Fuck off,” Remy hissed. “I’ll make some noise. Wake Bella up. Don’ t’ink I’m shittin’ you when I say dat, mec.”

“Den g’wan an’ do it. What’re ya waitin’ for, mon frere?” The endearment made what was happening to Remy more obscene, an even bigger sacrilege. Remy struggled, physically and with the implications of what he was saying.

Shame colored his decision.

Julien’s fingers slid into his tender crease, caressing his taint. Remy shivered when he bit his shoulder, mixing pleasure with pain.

“What’re ya waitin’ for, huh?” he repeated, taunting him. Remy closed his eyes and bit back a moan as he probed his pucker, barely dilating the ring of muscle with his fingertip. “Pretty tight, homme. T’ink ya’ve been waitin’ fo’ me. Wantin’ it pretty bad, since de last time.”

“Shut up,” he insisted, voice unsteady. He gasped as Julien roughly worked his finger inside.

“Damn, baby, must’ve missed me pretty bad.” Remy hated himself when pleasure seeped through his rage a drop a a time, making his body arch and jerk in time to Julien’s thrusting hand.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t, what?” Julien murmured thoughtfully. “Can’t hear ya…”

“Don’t…please…”

“Still can’t understand, Remy.” He gave his fingers a savage twist, two of them filling him, scissoring and thrusting, barely grazing his prostrate. Remy’s hips butted back against him, leaning back into his strokes, pulling him deeper.

“Don’t…stop…”

“Dat’s what I t’ought ya said, chere,” Julien grated out. He yanked Remy’s briefs down until they were hammocked around his thighs. Remy heard the stiff rip of his zipper and felt the separated denim flaps chafe his ass as Julien readied himself. He pumped the head of his dick a few times to gather up the precum; he’d begun dripping as soon as he touched Remy. It was always like that, and Remy denying the hold he had on him enhanced it, made it sweeter when he took him.

Remy bit his lip, exhaling hot gusts through his nose as he fought against crying out. Julien breached him, pressing home in one vicious thrust. His fingers dug into Remy’s supple hips as he began to rut. Julien’s breath shook.

“Ahhh…Gawd,” he grunted in Remy’s ear before biting the shell, adding insult to injury, but Remy’s nipples were hard, smarting with arousal with every slam of Julien’s cock. Remy gripped the washer and leaned his forehead against the cool metal and enamel, closing his eyes against the shame flooding him. They snapped open again when Julien’s hand snaked between his legs and found his weeping cock, ringing it in his fist.

He rode Remy’s ass, feeling it pulse and squeeze around him, burning him, pushing him to fuck him faster, harder, to mark him, stain him with the memory of his body at his back. Remy’s teeth rattled as he shunted into him even harder, pounding him and unerringly hitting his prostate every time. His body exploded in a rush of savage fulfillment and tingles. He felt Julien’s seed coat his insides in a hot flood.

Moments later, they collected themselves. Julien retreated into his cluttered room. Remy finished changing the laundry load and headed for the kitchen, on the hunt for some aspirin.

The sight he found froze him in the living room entry. He swallowed roughly.

“Belle,” he said hoarsely.

“Bastard,” she hissed. She laid back on the sofa with a cushion hugged to her chest, doing nothing to obscure her burgeoning stomach. Tears streamed down her cheeks, turning her mascara into muddy rivers.

“How. Could. You.”

*

“MAMAN! Is it ready?”

“Shit!” she hissed before she could stop herself.

“You said a bad word,” Rene reminded her solemnly.

“Sorry, baby,” she offered as she turned off the burner and probed the dark strips with a spatula. Three pieces of it were salvageable. She threw the rest of the burnt meat into the trash and poured the bacon grease into a jar.

She served Rene the bacon and a piece of toast with strawberry jam, since he was indifferent to eggs unless Remy made them for him, over easy.

The memories were always worse when Julien was around.

Their father’s voice was the one that swayed her to keep Julien in their home when his case was finally heard in court. Their parents lived fifty miles away in the next county. Julien had to reside in the county of his arrest to be eligible to serve the rest of his sentence at home.

By that time, Remy was long gone…

*

The baby was the glue that held Remy and Belladonna together for several more months after his birth. They set aside their differences long enough to fall in love with the tiny, precious little soul who had them wrapped around his little finger.

When they fought, it was over his well-being, over who was the better parent. They skirted around the issue of Remy’s indiscretions, bound by financial necessity and the need for privacy around Bella’s family when they came to visit. Those days were excruciating for Remy, knowing so much had to be left unsaid and undisturbed.

Things took a turn for the better when Jean-Luc offered Remy the chance to come to work for him, hearing all the things Remy left unsaid whenever they spoke, reading between the lines of bullshit about how “me an’ Bella are doin’ fine.” Remy kept his full-time job at the auto parts and quick lube store downtown and spent every other waking hour at Jean-Luc and Sons Racing and Auto under his father’s watchful eye, learning every trick of the trade. It was exhausting but fulfilling work, and it distracted him from the drama at home. He developed a steadfast hatred of Julien, working for the day that they could remove Julien from the lease or that they could move out themselves. It sickened Remy to owe him so much, even while letting Julien leech from them in so many other ways.

Remy became a doting father, but his marriage to Belladonna was so strained and frail. They seldom made love, and when they did, it was mechanical, with the two of them going through the motions, a parody of what they once had. He still found her beautiful, and it broke his heart a little more when she ignored him or brushed past him whenever he entered a room. It was his own fault. The only time she allowed him close was when she held the baby, when he would approach to kiss his plump cheek or tickle him to hear him coo. She smiled at Remy for Rene’s benefit to reassure him that he was surrounded by love.

Thing changed when they nearly lost him.

*

It was always a struggle getting out the door. Belladonna cursed under her breath as she searched high and low for Rene’s left sneaker.

“C’mon, now, Rene, we don’ have all day! Where’d ya leave de ot’er one?”

“Dunno, Maman,” he shrugged, distracting himself with his red Power Ranger that he found between the couch cushions. She made a ragged sound in her throat and continued to tear apart Rene’s room looking for it. She kicked aside a heap of Julien’s discarded clothes, caring little about whether she might be stepping on anything valuable.

She found the errant sneaker and unknotted the laces as she made her way back to the living room.

“Petit, I want ya t’start puttin’ yer shoes in de kitchen, on de mat by the back door.”

“Okay, Maman,” he shrugged as she fought his feet into his shoes. She knelt before him while he sat on the coffee table and propped his small foot on her knee while she tied the laces in snug double bows. She sighed.

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh,” he said brightly.

“Go ta de bathroom one more time, petit.”

“Awww!”

“Go,” she ordered simply. He threw up his hands and left the room in a huff.

Bella locked the door behind them and bundled him into the car. The weather was gray and she smelled impending rain, but they wouldn’t be out long. Rene chattered away, filling her ears as they drove to Toys R Us.

“Can I have a Dragon Ball Zee cake, Maman?”

“Jus’ lemme know, petit. Gotta order it de day before,” she reminded him.

“Or maybe the Hulk.”

“De Hulk’s fine, if ya want.”

“Luke got Hulk plates an’ Hulk cake an’ Hulk balloons for his birthday,” Rene informed her.

“Dat’s nice, petit.”

“But I want Dragon Ball Zee cake,” he insisted. Bella sighed as she turned into the lot and parked up front.

She thanked heaven that he agreed to have his birthday at Chuck E Cheese, saving Bella the indignity of trying to hold it with Julien lurking around, or at the risk of their guests walking past his room and seeing any of this paraphernalia laying around. It felt too much like they way it was before, as though his shadow lingered throughout the house, and they all had to keep too many secrets.

They hopped out and grabbed a shopping cart on their way inside. Belladonna hoped it wouldn’t give Rene ideas of wanting to buy something big enough that they would need it.

He made a beeline for the action figures aisle, reaching for the WWE packs that held two for one with all of their homely accessories that invariably ended up between Bella’s couch cushions. At least they were cheap.

“Look, it’s Chris Jericho,” he pointed out.

“Ya have t’ree of ‘em, don’t ya?”

“Not dis one,” he insisted. “Dis one has his championship belt.”

A belt. That was the only difference…she let out a gusty sigh. Same grimace, same bizarre camo pants and gloves that looked like ripped up shirt sleeves, same homely grimace and wild, flowing mullet hair, but to Rene, the little plastic belt with its gold foil seal in the center made it a completely different wrestling superstar. She tossed it into the cart.

She let him pick out two more toys. He was her only child and therefore enjoyed the privilege of being spoiled rotten on his birthdays every year. It wasn’t much compensation for his parents living in separate homes and seeing too little of his father, but it took the edge off of Bella’s guilt. There was something comforting about shopping with Rene, hearing him chatter on and temporarily stepping into his world.

They ended up selecting a Sonic the Hedgehog video game that Bella decided wasn’t too violent, denying his request for “Road Rash” and its mature rating.

“Whaddya want for lunch, petit?”

“Pizza!”

“’Course ya do,” she muttered as she loaded the gifts onto the conveyor belt. She pretended the total didn’t give her a heart attack and hastily dashed off a check. The cashier tucked her receipt in the bag and flirted with Rene.

“Someone having a birthday?”

“Me!” he piped up.

“Save me some cake!”

“We’re having it at Chuck E Cheese,” Rene shrugged. “Ya can’t have any ‘til then.” Belladonna smothered a laugh and waved goodbye to the cashier over his head as they left.

“Hold my hand, Rene.” Bella steered the cart into the rack before they went to cross the lot.

“Maman…look!” She turned and looked in the direction of his stubby finger.

“Ain’t polite t’point, Rene.”

“It’s m’sieu Logan!” he cried. “LOGAN!” he called out, waving furiously. Bella squinted at the stocky man who looked up at the sound of his name. He paused, smiled, and changed his direction.

“Hey,” he rumbled easily as he approached. Bella was surprised when Rene released her hand and hurried to him. “OOPH!” the man grunted as Rene glomped him.

“RENE!” she snapped. “Ya can’t-“

“It’s okay,” the man reassured her, holding up his hands. “He knows me. I’m a friend of his pop’s.” Bella’s eyes raked over him like she didn’t believe him.

“C’mere, Rene,” she ordered curtly. He obeyed reluctantly, rejoining his mother.

“Dis is Logan,” he repeated. “He bought me pizza at Daddy’s show.”

“He has this thing about pizza,” Logan offered.

His eyes were kind. He was somewhat older than Belladonna, that much she could tell right off the bat. He wore a slightly battered Stetson and denim jacket. He tipped up the hat so she had a better view of his face.

“How ya know Remy?”

“Met downtown a coupla times. We both love cars,” Logan said.

“Cars, huh?”

“Maman, m’sieu Logan drives a big truck,” Rene announced proudly.

“He does, huh?”

“Logan, you hafta come t’my birthday at Chuck E Cheese,” Rene insisted. “We’re having Dragon Ball cake. You hafta tell Papa ya wanna come.” Logan reached up and rubbed his nape. Bella noticed he looked slightly uncomfortable.

“We’ll leave that up ta yer pop, okay, buddy?”

“But ya have to!”

“Um…”

“M’sieu might be busy, petit,” Bella interjected. Her back was up, which was bad enough, having her son talk to strange men. But why did Logan seem to close up at the mention of Remy?

Or at the possibility of seeing him again?

Before Belladonna could run through any scenarios in her head, Logan nodded to her. “I’m gonna go. Rene, happy birthday, okay?”

Rene shook off his mother’s grip and hurried forward. “G’bye, Logan! Don’t forget my party!” His hug was tight and sudden and made Logan’s eyes prick. He cleared his throat.

“Behave yerself. And if ya can’t behave yerself, don’t get caught.” He patted him awkwardly and left.

Belladonna ran the meeting through her brain several times on the ride home. None of the possibilities made her happy. Their encounter opened the floodgates for Rene to sing Logan’s praises.

“He liked Straight Flush, Maman. But Coyote Ugly is his favorite one of Papa’s cars.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He likes pepperoni.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He said I couldn’t eat my boogers if I wanted ta have a girlfriend, but I told him I didn’t wanna girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh.” Then she absently mentioned “Probably oughta leave dose boogers alone anyway, sweet pea.”

They returned home and fixed a frozen crisp crust pizza for lunch. Belladonna sat down and made out party invitations and phoned the bakery, ordering a quarter-sheet chocolate cake. It was a relief to be home until she noticed the mess Julien made of the bathroom. She hauled several dirty dishes and cups out of Rene’s bedroom, cursing under her breath. It sucked living with a man…Remy at least had a little house training before they moved in.

She felt like she was drowning. Every time she swam free, Julien just dragged her back under until she couldn’t breathe.

She watched her son inhale his pizza and laugh at his Spongebob show, one he’d watched at least a dozen times.

She wouldn’t let him drown, too.