STATION TO STATION | ROMANCE
Wrong Station
It was St. Patrick’s Day. In New York City. And there was no way that she’d be sitting at home for it.
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**Content Warning — this story contains a dubcon sexual encounter and assault. It may be triggering for some readers. Please be advised.***
But first, read Agent Ranch Hand’s companion story Station Break.
March 17, 1989
Everything boiled inside her, making Sloane grit her teeth tightly while she applied mascara. She brushed over her thickly covered lashes again, trying to separate them, her eyes staring wide open into the mirror.
“But you’re still going to this party with him?” Her little sister watched her while sitting on the edge of the tub.
“No!” The word popped angrily out of her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere with that dufus! Keep up, Sylvie.” She sighed, rolling her eyes, then pulled out the eyeliner to touch up the already heavy lines on her lids.
Adam had scoffed at her once, months ago, about the eyeliner, asking her if she was trying to imitate Joan Jet. Of course, that was before anything happened between them. Before that Valentine’s Day party, before they had these couple of weeks of hot and heavy, new infatuation bliss.
Sylvie stuffed her hands underneath her thighs on the edge of the tub. “So did you and Adam break up?”
“I don’t know,” Sloane barked back at her, switching to lipstick. “No. Maybe.”
She didn’t feel like figuring out what exactly the logistics and labels of their relationship were at the moment. It was St. Patrick’s Day. In New York City. And there was no way that she’d be sitting at home for it. Adam made it clear that he didn’t trust her, that he thought she still had something going on with Jack, and she wasn’t going to waste her time and energy trying to prove him otherwise. Not tonight.
Tonight she was gonna go get drunk.
Sylvie had made her usual appeal to be taken along to the party, but there was no way that Sloane was bringing a 15-year-old to Axel’s. If Sylvie blabbed about any of it to their dad, Sloane wouldn’t ever be allowed out of the house again.
Axel was closer to thirty and had a loft up over the gas station that his dad owned. He fixed it up to be somewhat livable, though his standard of livable was rather low. It was a great place to have parties though. There was lots of space, as well as intimate nooks and corners where couples tended to hook up. Sloane had utilized those corners in the past, with Jack. But that wasn’t why she was going to the party tonight, she told herself. It had nothing to do with Jack and it had nothing to do with Adam. It was a Friday night, it was St. Patrick’s Day, and that was more than enough reason to go to a party and get shitfaced.
The place was already hopping when she pushed through the heavy, steel door. Smoke sat thick in the air, the scent of cigarettes and pot mingling together. Guns ‘N Roses’ Paradise City blared from speakers too large for the space. Sloane headed straight for the keg, feeling a desperate need to feel numb.
“Where’s that supposed boyfriend of yours?” Axel’s voice sounded mocking over her.
“I don’t know,” Sloane shrugged, rolling her eyes. She brought the cup to her lips taking a long drink during which Axel continued watching her. “Possibly at church. With his mother. She seems kinda heavy into all the saints.”
“Right, right,” her host smirked. “So you came by yourself?”
“Yup.”
“Well, Jack’s around here somewhere,” Axel winked at her.
“Whatever,” she replied dismissively, proceeding to down more of her beer.
She didn’t come there for Jack and she knew other people. She’s been avoiding him, since that message he left her on Valentine’s Day, about being back in town. She came to get drunk, to blow off some steam, to not be sitting at home being angry about what may or may not be a breakup with Adam. Downing the remainder of the beer in her cup, Sloane got a refill before moving away from the keg and towards a couple of girls standing together by the window.
She made small talk, caught up with some people she hadn’t seen in a while, and made sure never to be caught with an empty cup. That girl from the comic book shop, Shelley, was there too, Sloane noticed, but she avoided her. A joint got passed to her as she stood with a group of people and she took a long pull before passing it along. U2’s One Tree Hill came on and she bounced on the toes of her Doc Martens nodding her head along to the music. This was just what she needed.
“Hey, baby girl,” someone’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in against him. Sloane went with the pull, muscle memory taking over.
“Hey,” she replied, leaning her head back against Jack’s shoulder.
“Your tits look super in this top,” he announced, his hand sliding up from her waist to cup one of her breasts. Sloane sighed.
“Thanks.”
He spun her around, pulling her in close. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Shelley watching them, but then his lips pressed into hers hard and for some reason, Sloane wasn’t pulling away. There was comfort in the familiar. She knew these lips, she’s kissed them so many times before. And didn’t Adam think she was doing this anyway? Wasn’t he under the impression that she was seeing Jack behind his back already? Would it really make anything worse if they made out?
“I missed you, baby girl,” he said before kissing down to her neck and sucking on her collarbone.
“Mhmm.” Her eyes had closed and she was sucked into the sensations that Jack was delivering. God this was good. He knew what he was doing. Not that Adam didn’t. He did. Adam was good too, but Jack… he took control, took charge, he knew just how to handle her.
And he handled her right up against the exposed brick wall, his hand reaching up underneath her skirt. Jack wasn’t interested in conversations or in catching up. He went right for her crotch, pressing his fingers against the fabric of her panties. It had been a balmy 70 degrees that day and Sloane didn’t hesitate to shed the winter layers and leave her legs bare. Now, her ex had easy access, pushing aside her panties and sliding his fingers into her folds.
Yeah, he’d done this before at parties, not caring about the fact that there were people around. Sloane pushed his hand away.
“Jack.”
“Oh, babe, are you really gonna make me wait?”
“Not here,” she tried pushing him away, but he barely budged.
“No one can see your pussy when my hand’s up there,” he made a grab for her.
They weren’t even in any of the nooks or corners, but right among the people standing around with their drinks. Two feet away from them a girl sat on the floor, slumped against the wall, nursing her drink. She didn’t feel like putting on a show for anyone tonight.
“Jack!” She pushed at him again.
His hand flew up, as if on instinct, to grasp her throat and he pierced her with his stare.
“Fuck! Yeah, fine, come on.” Jack pulled away, grasping her hand and pulling her behind him as he headed for the bathroom.
The door hadn’t been locked and when Jack pushed through, they stopped short, faced with two guys hovering over the toilet tank. One sat backward on the toilet lid, cutting lines, and the other waited next to him on the edge of the tub. They barely looked up.
“Shut the door,” the guy on the toilet barked at them.
“There’s not enough to share with the entire party,” the other guy added, chuckling merrily.
Jack reached past Sloane to push the door shut and turned the lock.
“Well, since I’m already here…” Jack pushed closer, letting go of Sloane’s hand. He reached over the guy on the toilet seat and dipped his finger into one of the lines, bringing it back to his nose and inhaling. “Ah, shit, this is good stuff.” Jack reached over again, before the guy was able to slap his hand away, and stuffed a fingertip’s worth up his other nostril.
“Jackie, that’s not fuckin’ cool,” the guy on the edge of the tub furrowed his brow.
“Tell you what,” Jack suddenly turned to Sloane and in one swift move lifted her up onto the edge of the sink. “You can watch me fuck my girl as payment.”
“Jack, no!” She hissed at him. He was already shimmying her skirt up her hips and spreading her legs open to stand between them.
“Relax, babe, it’s just two guys. They’re not even gonna remember what they fucking saw after they do those lines.”
“I can’t!” She pleaded with him, trying to push him away, her eyes flicking to the two other men in the small bathroom. “This is humiliating!”
“Oh don’t mind us,” the guy on the toilet waved a hand at her, leaning over the toilet tank. “We’re not even looking.”
“See, baby girl, they are gentlemen. They’re not even looking.”
Her mouth hung open and her head buzzed and although she wanted to protest again, somehow Jack was already shoving himself inside her. He grasped her ass, pulling her closer to the edge and further onto his cock and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, unsteady and afraid to fall.
She looked over to her left — the other two guys were bent over the lines, not paying attention. Jack drove deep into her, hard and fast, growing feral, and she felt like a part of her had missed this. Had missed him. He reached down between them and pressed his thumb against her clit quickly tripping her over the edge.
“Oh God, Jack!” She cried out, her thighs shaking against the cool porcelain of the sink.
“That’s what I like to hear, baby girl,” he grinned, looking wicked, his pupils dilated.
He brought one hand up to her shirt, pulling it up and over her breast along with her bra, releasing her breasts, then leaned towards them, while still inside her, to suck on her nipples.
It felt good and she was lost in the aftershocks of orgasm, her mind free from other thoughts for the moment. He resumed fucking her hard again and Sloane brought up her legs to wrap around Jack, pulling him in. He drilled her hard and the way that he twisted her nipple at the same time… Wait…
She tried to bring her eyes back into focus, out of the drunken haze and the endorphin-induced euphoria. It wasn’t Jack’s hand on her breast, it was one of the other guys!
“Jack!” She tried to get his attention, but he seemed too much in the zone to react to her appeal. She let go of his neck, trying to push away the hand that touched her breast, but it was Jack’s strong grip that caught her by the wrist and pulled her hand up over her head, against the mirror over the sink.
“Oh, let the guy have a little fun, Sloane, don’t be such a prude,” Jack told her, not slowing down the speed with which he fucked her.
“I don’t want him to…” she whimpered. The other guy pulled his hand away, stepping back, but Jack’s hand came down with a heavy smack against Sloane’s face.
“Oh come on, you let all kinds of guys touch you, baby girl. You’re my little slut,” his tone remained calm while the entire side of Sloane’s face stung like it was on fire. “Maybe after I blow my load inside you, you could take these guys too. I’m sure they’d love sloppy seconds.”
Sloane shook her head, tears forming in her eyes just as Jack slammed in deep, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her. He groaned.
“Don’t tell me no, slut!” He roared at her. “If I want to watch you suck another guy’s cock, you’ll do what I say!”
She tried to pull her hands away, out of his grip, but he slammed them back against the mirror with force. She heard a sharp crack over her head before the searing pain in her wrist began to register.
She felt herself sway on the edge of the sink as suddenly she was entirely free from Jack’s hold. One of the other guys had pushed him back against the opposite wall and Jack slid down it to the floor. Sloane hopped down off the sink, pulling her shirt and skirt back down before fighting with the handle and its lock to let her out.
She held her head down, heading right for the door, and didn’t slow down until she was several blocks away. She was shaking, all over, and when she finally slowed down her speedwalking she realized she was sobbing too. Her eyes stung from the mascara and eyeliner running and her wrist hurt like a bitch. Stepping into the glow of the street lamp, she tried to examine it though her vision was clouded. There was a gash over her wrist bone and thin rivers of blood streaked up her arm. She tried to wipe at her eyes with the hem of her shirt, but she really needed to get home and take the contacts out.
Her pace slowed as she got closer to home, her body feeling drained of all energy. She fished out the keys from her pocket and stood at the door for a long time trying, unsuccessfully, to fit the key into the lock. She could barely see in the dim light and the burning in her eyes and her left hand seemed far less agile than her right, which still hurt like a bitch. She sighed, leaning in the doorframe, feeling defeated. A gust of wind blew, reminding Sloane that it was still only March, and she was suddenly aware of the sticky cum running down her inner thighs. A new flood of tears came over her and she sank down to the stoop. Her vision was too blurred to even see the lock anymore.
“Partied too hard?” The voice came from above her.
She didn’t need to look up to know that it was Adam. Embarrassment, shame, regret all swirled into a dark cloud inside her, while the sobs shook through her body like thunder. She felt his eyes scanning her.
“What did you do?” There was genuine concern and worry in his voice. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, sending hot spikes of shooting pain through it.
“Fuck!” she screamed, trying to pull her hand out of his. “I think it’s broken,” the words came out along with sobs. The pain seared through her entire arm and she was certain that Adam’s own hand came away covered in blood.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do it.” She replied between sobs. Adam let go of her hand, turning away. “Wh-where are you going?” She didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be alone. She needed him.
“I’m getting Ma’s car keys and I’m taking you to the emergency room,” he declared confidently walking away.
Sloane pulled in a deep breath and blew it out through her mouth. Adam could take control too, he could take charge and he knew how to handle her as well. She’d been an idiot to think otherwise.
There will be more adventures for Sloane and Adam, but if you haven’t yet read how it all started, check out the Station to Station Duology here:
