Slow Speed Chase
by Ophelia

Rating: NC-17, don't read this if you're young and impressionable (eighteen and under, I think) because I really can't handle the guilt.

Thank yous: To my lovely beta, Neo. To the DC board at MBTV. Y'all make me giddy.

Additional thanks: To the wonderful KTLA folks. They crack me up. All the info on slow speed chases comes courtesy of a wonderful article in the Inland Valley Times by an infinitely more talented writer than me.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dawson's Creek characters, I swear. I don't own the CHP, but I think they do a fine job and many look really cute in their uniforms. If I mentioned any "news" stations or any local establishments it's only out of love and devotion. California is crazy, but it's my kind of crazy and I love it.

A little preamble/explanation: Okay, I'm rambling before I even start, but I feel a little explanation is needed. I watched a slow-speed chase on television two nights ago. I enjoy watching too. Especially when the newscaster starts talking about why we're watching a big rig meander down a street for two hours. And I quote, "Because it's news. N-E-W-S. This is news." I disagree with him, but whatever. It's visual crack, California style. The other reason I wrote this, also the reason this is more smut than story, is a little more personal.

Last week I thought about it and I haven't had a genuine crush on a real live boy since 1998. I've been busy in a major filled with lovely gay men. So I haven't had that giddy rush of liking someone in awhile. And it didn't even occur to me until last week....when I started to notice this guy at work. And he's not a teenager, so all you MBTVers who know where I work and who I work with can rest easy. He's my age and he has beautiful blue eyes, only says something when he can catch you by surprise [usually it's something worthy of the laughs at the DC board], and he has the softest hands. Which I touched at work several times. Don't get any ideas. We were handing each other seat belts to put on the bratty children before they went on the stupid ride we were operating. God, this explanation is long. Sorry. So I'm in the midst of a large crush. Hence this fanfic. Hope you enjoy, but if you don't I'm still going to see you-know-who at work in the morning so see if I care. J/K.

“Jo, come here,” Pacey J. Witter yelled to his girlfriend, who threw him a wary glare from her position in the small kitchen.

“Pacey ask nicely if you plan on living through the rest of the day,” she replied tartly.

“Josephine Potter, will you please be so good as to join me in front of the television for a moment?” Pacey asked sweetly, pausing quickly and then throwing her a pleading pout.

Joey rolled her eyes and headed into the tiny space that served as a living room for their one room efficiency apartment.

It was the most they could afford in Los Angeles. It wasn’t much, but it was clean. When Joey had been accepted to Cal Arts she hadn’t planned on going. But she had been offered a full ride and a chance to do what she loved. And Pacey had insisted that she go for it, especially when his acceptance to Cal State Northridge had come in a week later. The pair decided to live together and had chosen a place to live an equal distance between the two schools. The apartment really was only one main room, a half bath, and a kitchen with space to accommodate only one body at a time. A small dressing screen separated the couch and the television from their bed and they ate dinner on a large trunk that served as a coffee table.

But they were happy. School was good and Pacey had discovered a real talent for writing. He was planning on majoring in Journalism with a minor in English, and for the first time he was really excelling. And Joey Potter had turned out to be a dedicated and talented photographer. She’d picked up the art form when Dawson Leery had given it up for good. He’d given her his camera, when he lost a small Capeside Community College photography contest. Said he couldn’t stand to look at “the thing” anymore. Said it had “betrayed” him.

Dawson Leery was now going to school at Triple C, because he didn’t want to leave Joey. Pacey was still laughing about that one. He had told Dawson that Joey hadn’t the will to leave the creek and all the memories of Dawson behind, so she had decided to stay forever, sitting in her little row boat at his dock, waiting for the day that their souls might be joined for eternity. He said she had a tape of “ET” and the soundtrack from “Jaws.” She was just waiting for her prince to come. He thought Dawson would realize he was kidding, but he had simply turned down his acceptance to UC Riverside to be with Joey on her row boat. She and Pacey had left the next day for the west coast. Go figure.

“So I’m here Witter. What did you want?” Joey asked in her usual acidic manner. She sat down on the couch next to Pacey and snuggled into his arms, which were bare in his gray wifebeater. The two had settled into an underwear only policy in their apartment for the Santa Ana weather, they couldn’t afford to run the air conditioning 24/7. So Pacey spent much of the day in boxers and the occasional wifebeater and Joey lived in camisoles and boxers she’d stolen from Pacey. And then there was Naked Saturday. Which Pacey had invented one night and gotten Joey to agree to after refusing to kill spiders or take out the trash for two weeks. Those were his household duties. And Joey hated to do them. He also cooked most of the time, another thing he hadn’t done for two weeks. There was really only so much Top Ramen a girl could devour, and Joey had her fill. Besides Naked Saturday was pretty fun. Joey snuggled in a little closer, her head resting against Pacey’s strong chest. He smelled salty and was nice and warm. And he was paying her absolutely no attention. She followed his entranced gaze to the television where a KTLA newsman was saying something about obeying traffic laws. “What are you watching?”

“It’s a slow speed chase,” Pacey said, grinning enthusiastically. He pulled Joey in closer with a strong arm around her waist. Staring at her confused expression, he further explained, “They have these things in LA all the time. Like OJ Simpson. It’s a big event. The news is showing it all live.”

“And how do you know all this? We’ve only been in LA for a year and a half.” Joey’s lips curled at the corners, amused at Pacey’s childlike excitement.

“Well, because my friend Herman was telling me about it last month. Said how he’d just been to one on I-5. Said it was really a hoot. And here it is on our tv, a live slow speed chase!” Pacey’s fingers rubbed at Joey’s sides, seemingly of their own volition. Joey felt the familiar tingles race up her spine at his touch. “And it’s a big rig Jo.”

“Pacey, you do realize you sound deranged?” Joey spit out, trying for biting, but ending up rather choked and weak, as Pacey’s hands reached under her light purple camisole, his short nails dragging along her stomach slowly. “How long do you plan on watching this crap?”

Pacey smiled resolutely and replied “Until it’s over.” Turning back to the television, his eyes took on a glazed expression. And his hands moved lower trailing along the waistband of Joey’s flannel boxers. “Only two police cars. One damn big rig. In Bakersfield. This could take awhile.”

“Um, Pace,” Joey murmured, “Please.” His index fingers dipped under the fabric for a minute and then out again. Joey groaned in frustration. Pacey was playing with her, and showing no interest in anything other than this stupid chase. A chase that appeared to be nothing more than one truck tooling along the Grapevine at the speed limit with two equally boring squad cars following behind. “Why is the truck being chased?”

“He didn’t go through the scales.”

“Scales?” Joey hadn’t been in California long enough to take note of big rig protocol. She’d only been on the Grapevine once, when Pacey had driven her to San Luis Obispo for the weekend. But he’d distracted her as always, with car games and sex, so she didn’t pay much attention to the road.

“On the freeway. The trucks have to sometimes get weighed. It’s called a weigh station. They have to drive onto these scales. This guy skipped the scales,” Pacey explained, eyes glued to the tube, hands to Joey’s stomach.

“His music teacher must be disappointed,” she quipped.

“Potter, this is no laughing matter. Slow speed chases are volatile and dangerous and he could hurt tens of innocent people,” Pacey retorted, indignant that Joey wasn’t appreciating the glory of the slow speed chase.

“You got that from the news anchor, admit it.”

“Jo, a slow speed chase could be very enjoyable for both of us if you just gave it a chance,” he said, blue eyes darkening lustily. His fingers dipped lower, rolling the band of her boxers down a bit as well. He ran a finger slowly in a circle above the dark curls in between her thighs. Joey’s stomach tensed and her attention was held. “These chases can last all day. Especially the slow ones. That eighteen wheeler could have as much as ten to twelve hours worth of fuel left. And so long as that truck is heading South, I might as well follow suit.” His words were a husky promise, his warm breath heating the bare skin on her neck.

“So tell me about the chase,” Joey whispered. She groaned when Pacey moved his free hand up to her right breast, cupping it gently, before capturing the nipple between his thumb and index finger, rubbing slowly. “I thought you said you’d go South.”

“Well the truck is North now. You want me to stop?” He pinched her nipple and stopped dead.

“No,” Joey gasped, “Please?” His fingers moved again and Joey relaxed into them, trying desperately to focus on the television in hopes of persuading Pacey to continue. The news anchors were discussing the futility of using spike strips to blow out the tires. The truck was just too large. “ Why don’t they have more police to head off this guy?” Pacey’s fingers dragged through the dark curls, continuing their southward trek.

“I don’t know. The news anchors really aren’t saying much. They can’t really head off a big rig anyways, unless he wants to stop....do you want to stop Jo?” Pacey stared down into her wide eyes, glazed with desire, and flashed a sexy grin. His baby blues sparkled and he licked his lips, glancing down at Joey’s hardened nipples.

“I hope he drives to Mexico,” she mumbled, biting her lower lip.

“There’s the spirit,” Pacey laughed. Reaching lower still his fingers moved over her clit, flicking quickly and then he removed his hands completely, pulling her off of him, and standing. “Be right back,” he tossed out at her, heading to the kitchen.

“You, you, you little tease,” Joey sputtered in frustration. “Pacey J. Witter you get your ass back in this room and your fingers back in my shorts!” He chuckled from the kitchen, his form hidden behind the refrigerator door. “I’m not kidding. I’ll eviscerate you. I’ll stop kissing you.” The empty threats fell on deaf ears. “I’ll, I’ll, I won’t put out for a week.” More laughter rang through the tiny apartment. “Pacey! Please? I love you.” Pacey peeked out from behind the fridge his expression softening a little, then he stuck his tongue out at her and returned to his digging. “You suck.”

“Only if you’re good,” came the the sing songy reply from the kitchen. “How’s the chase going?” Joey pouted, refusing to respond. This little mind game was not for her. “Josephine?”

Then came an idea. “Oh God. Pace, I think it might be ending, he turned onto an offramp and he’s headed for a residential area.” And Pacey came running, even going so far as to jump over the back of the couch, landing with a thud beside Joey, an orange juice carton in hand. “Hey love.”

“Hey,” Pacey stared at the television, expecting the final confrontation. No such luck. His girlfriend was a liar. A remarkably convincing liar. And he was very gullible. But Joey took this opportunity to shed her camisole and boxers and pull his arms back around her now nude form, so who was he to complain. Pulling her closer he showered kisses along the nape of her neck. “You suck, “ he growled.

“’Only if you’re good’,” Joey mimicked, her voice lowering slightly, “Bite me?” Pacey nipped at her neck, trailing a mix of bites and wet kisses down her shoulder, all the while watch the flickering television screen. “How long are they going to show this truck?”

“What?”

“The news....” Joey trailed off as his hands snaked around her waist, his hands rubbing up and down her inner thighs. Taking a deep breath, her hips arching towards him, she struggled to continue, “when do they cut away?”

“They don’t.”

“They don’t? Pacey it’s been nearly an hour, what about the shows that come on after the news?”

“The news will preempt them. They stay with the chase, Potter. “ His hands snaked up her thighs. “Just like me.” Each word was punctuated by a flick of his fingers against her clit. “Now watch and be captivated.”

“Which chase Pace?” The words floated on the air between them.

“Every chase, Josephine,” he growled deeply. He entered her with one finger, slow and controlled in his movements. Joey squirmed beneath him, impatient and wanting.

“Do I have to beg?”

“It might help,” Pacey smiled, letting out a throaty chuckle. Joey ground her ass into his crotch as his finger entered her again, slower still. Her movements were affecting him as well, as he felt himself harden beneath her. But she wasn’t going to control him today. Attempting nonchalance he turned his eyes away from his nude, wet girlfriend and back to the truck chase. “Look he’s getting off the Grapevine. What the hell is he doing? He’s heading towards Pomona. Nothing’s in Pomona.”

“Maybe he needs a bathroom break and a Big Mac. He’s stopping at the red light. Why can’t they stop him at the intersection?”

“How many times do I have to explain?” Pacey said, letting out a sigh of exasperation. He removed his hands from Joey to grab his orange juice and the tv remote from the trunk in front of the couch. Holding both in front of her, he placed the orange juice jug down on her bare abdomen, the remote in the valley between her breasts. “Big rig,” Pacey said shaking the jug slightly, the cold on her flesh causing Joey to tremble. “Police sedan,” Pacey ran the remote lightly over her skin, his fingers brushing the sides of her breasts as he moved. “Big rig, sedan,” he whispered huskily, bringing the two objects closer, watching the the skin tense, the goosebumps rise on Joey’s naked flesh. “Boom.” The two objects were brought into collision, the remote knocked to the floor, the orange juice triumphantly perched on Joey’s belly. “Big rig wins,” Pacey murmured, his hands settling on her breasts. Joey drew in a sharp breath at his touch, both chilled and heated, and as she did so the juice tipped, spilling over her stomach. Pacey righted the container quickly and set it on the trunk.

Getting up from under Joey, he ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel. He returned to Joey and began to wipe the juice from her legs, lest it spill on the floor or the couch. Then a new expression danced over Pacey’s features, for such a short time that Joey couldn’t identify it, and he set the towel down on the trunk. Moving between her legs, he placed a kiss on her belly button, following with a soft brush of his tongue. Licking off the orange juice from her stomach, Pacey smiled against her smooth skin.

“Oh. Good.” Joey exhaled as the tension seemed to pool in her stomach and ache. Her body tingled and burned and she wanted to throw the television out the window and force Pacey out of his indifference to her. Instead, she waited as his tongue traveled lower, dipping just below her navel and then back up again. He showered soft kisses on her belly, his hands kneading the inside of her thighs gently. She opened her legs to him, urging him lower.

“Local police are getting involved, check out the intersections. A couple new squad cars joined the parade.” The news anchor announced excitedly. Pacey pulled away and gazed at the television as if the anchor might announce the Apocalypse and the Meaning of Life any second now. Joey groaned and smacked him hard in the belly. He gave her a wide grin and climbed on top of her, straddling her waist. Pressing his firm body into hers, she felt his interest finally. Lifting her chin, she placed a wet kiss on his lips, his tongue teasing the edge of her lower lip. She opened her mouth and caught his tongue between her teeth gently. They warred with each other for dominance, the kiss deepening as Pacey’s arms wrapped around Joey, his thumbs strumming her sides. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him to her tightly. His erection ground into her, nearly pushing her over the edge. She reached under his tank, her nails dragging down his back. “And it looks like the suspect is...yes, he’s getting back on the freeway,” the announcer continued.

Pacey released Joey and stood in front of her. She sighed deeply, extremely frustrated. She might as well give up and order a vibrator at this rate. Pacey smiled down at her and pulled off his tank, following suit with his boxers quickly. She stared up at his body and licked her lips. “Be good,” Joey whispered.

Her eyes lowered to his erection, and Pacey rested his hands on her shoulders. Her tongue darted out to the head of his cock, tracing a small circle on the tip. Resting one hand on the base, the other teasing his testicles, she licked a line up and down the shaft. Lightly at first and then harder. She looked up for a second to see Pacey staring down at her, biting his lip. Then she took him into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around him, she smiled inwardly as Pacey gripped her shoulders tighter. She squeezed the base of his shaft and felt his hips thrust towards her. Then she released him from between her lips and relaxed back against the couch. Pacey stared down at her, shell shocked. He wasn’t enjoying being on the other side of the teasing.

Joey stared at the television, watching Pacey’s reflection on the screen. He paced in front of her and she eyed his ass. She laughed when he flexed his butt cheeks for her, catching her blatant ogling. She reached an arm out, placing a hand on his hip possessively. Pacey grinned and moved a step closer to her. Joey nearly sent him hurtling to the floor when she pushed him to the side with a smirk. “You make a terrible window, Pace.”

Pacey pouted in response. Joey hid her smile and stared at the television intently as he had before. She watched the correspondent in the helicopter relay the latest chase news. “It appears the suspect is planning on using the Ontario offramp. Yes, he’s signaling as if that is his intention.” Pacey folded his arms across his chest and tapped an impatient foot. The truck made a turn onto a one way surface street. Six police cars followed at thirty miles an hour. One of the anchors appeared onscreen, fluffing her teased helmet head hairdo self consciously. “Back with the chase, as we can see the driver appears to be headed further into Ontario, perhaps on his way to the local truck yard. While we’re waiting, I’ve got some facts and figures from the CHP. According to their records, there have been 28,746 high-speed pursuits in California between 1994 and 1997. Only thirty-five of those pursued escaped capture.”

“High-speed?” Joey snorted derisively. “What high-speed?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her lips were fixed in a pout. Her eyes were watery and angry. She coughed tiredly. Pacey looked over at her. A small smile settled on his lips and he moved over to the couch decisively. Picking up the remote from the small trunk before her feet, he turned and stared down at Joey, his eyes shining with admiration. Holding one arm over his shoulder he pressed down the small red button and the television screen flickered off. The remote was dropped back to the trunk with a thud. Joey gazed up at him, surprised, her lips parted slightly. “Pacey? What are you-” All further words were cut off, when he leaned down and caught her lips with his own. His tongue delved into the warm recesses of her mouth, his hands held her close, fingers curled around her waist tenderly.

“Time to get caught, Jo.”

His knee moved in between her legs, pressing against the inside of her thigh. Kisses moved downward, his fingers splayed across her hips, strumming her skin like a guitar. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips fluttered against her breast. His tongue circled her nipple, heated and feather soft all at once. Joey writhed under his warm breath, her nails digging into his biceps. Their legs tangled together, arms entwined.

“Do I have to beg?”

She’d asked him that already this afternoon...but this time, her voice rang with a note of desperation. Pacey’s eyes were dark when he pulled away from her. One smile, a light kiss on her lower lip and he entered her in a deep, sure thrust. She rose to meet him, their hips bumping each other hard. He winced and she laughed. Pacey kissed her and pulled out slowly, and thrust in again. He stuck his tongue out at her; his eyes dancing with mischief. She rolled her eyes and scowled at him. Joey placed a wet kiss on his neck, just below his ear. She opened her mouth to say something and managed only a moan as she came. Her head lolled forward, her damp forehead resting against Pacey’s clavicle as he trembled against her, his own orgasm ending in a final bump of his hips towards hers.

When she finally lifted her head from his chest, Joey stared at the television screen. The image of two sweaty lovers was hazily reflected in the dusty glass. She felt Pacey’s fingers stroke her ass gently. He pulled her closer, rolling her over in his arms. He smiled lazily from his new position on the couch, Joey now on top, cradled against his chest. His grin widened and he winked at her. Joey ran a hand up and down his arm, her eyelids drooping a little. As she started to fall asleep, he felt her whisper against his chest. “One hell of a chase, Pace.”

His laugh rumbled and Joey shifted, her fingers dragging against his abdomen. Pacey stretched out both legs and with some admittedly clumsy maneuvering managed to push the discard remote control so it faced the television. He pressed “on” with his big toe and the screen came to life, loudly. His little toe quickly fumbled for the “mute” button when Joey mumbled crankily. Craning his neck over his sleeping girlfriend’s matted, messy hair, he watched the news report attentively.

The big rig was still moving, now pulling into a truck yard in a small town. His eyes darted to the corner of the screen where it read “Live from Ontario.” A small graphic of a truck with little dust clouds at the back accompanied the location. The truck slowed to a stop in the parking lot of the truck yard. Six police sedans surrounded it. A dozen policemen opened the doors of their cars and hid behind them, guns drawn. One officer held up a megaphone to communicate with the truck driver. Another appeared to be doing the same thing with a cell phone. Pacey watched, his pulse racing, more from the warmth Joey created relaxing into a deep sleep against him than from the exciting confrontation playing out in the little town of Ontario, California.

All of a sudden there was a flurry of movement. Four little policemen marched purposefully to the back of the big rig, opening the large doors and stepping inside the truck carefully. They exited the space just as quickly, one officer shrugging slightly. Then the cab door swung open. And the driver finally stepped out. After a two hour chase. Pacey leaned forward, careful to tighten his hold on Jo’s nude form.

The driver held a cigarette loosely between his fingers. He took a slow drag off it. Then another. He held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright light of the helicopters spotlighting him from above. One more drag off the cigarette and he tossed the butt to the asphalt. With the toe of a cowboy boot he extinguished the burning embers. His hands rose above his head and he turned away from the police, walking slowly backwards. Finally reaching the police officers he laid down on the ground and allowed himself to be handcuffed.

With his big toe Pacey shut off the television, shaking his head in disbelief. He reached an arm underneath Joey and hoisted her off the ground. He headed into the bedroom and after settling Joey into the bed and under the covers, he crawled in after her. “Love you, Jo,” he growled into her temple as he placed a warm kiss there. He looked over at her, lashes fluttering against her cheeks, hair falling over her bare shoulders.

“One hell of a chase.” His voice held a note of want that made her spine tingle even in sleep. They curled into each other, caught in each others’ arms.

***************

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