Timeline: Post 513 Rated: nc-17ish Warning: A little bit of angst As always, thank you to _alicesprings for all her patients and advice. This would not have seen the light of day without her.
"Where are you?"
"It's 10 at night on a Friday, shouldn't you be at home?"
"Don't you mean, shouldn't I be at Babylon?"
"Well I'm not at Babylon... so no, I mean why aren't you at the loft."
"What the fuck are you doing at the loft?"
"I'm not feeling the excitement I was hoping for."
"Oh don't worry, you'll feel my excitement when I get home."
"Mmmm, that's more like it."
I should have known right then that something was up. But the truth of the matter was I was just thinking about seeing him and touching him and fucking him. I didn't think about how busy he's been. Too busy for a trip home.
The "don't freak out" greeting he gives me when I walk through the door is what finally clues me in on the fact that something is up. And then he stands up from the couch and holds up his arm. In a cast.
"Christ, what the fuck happened?"
He has the fucking nerve to roll his eyes at me.
"You're going to freak out."
He says it like he is talking to himself.
"You're going to have enough material for a whole new issue of Rage if you don't hurry up and tell me what the fuck happened."
"I met a guy at a club and went home with him. We had differing opinions on the night’s activities so I had to make him see it my way. Turns out I broke a few bones in my hand in the process."
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. My stomach is full of knots.
"I'm going to pour myself a drink and then you are going to tell me exactly what happened."
"Get me one too. It's a bitch trying to do anything with this thing."
I don't know how he can sound so casual about it all. I want to throttle him.
He's freaked out. And I guess it is shitty of me to make light of the whole thing. But there isn't much else to do at this point.
He settles on the couch and just stares at me.
"It isn't as bad as it sounds. I met this guy at a club. He was hot and we danced together for a while. We both wanted more so we went back to his place. It was hot at first but then he started getting rough. He wanted to tie me up and fuck me and I refused. But he wasn't really taking no for an answer. He grabbed me and tried to hold me down, but I got loose. And then I punched him in the face. He went down pretty hard, I guess my days in the Pink Posse came in handy for something."
I was trying to make light of the situation a bit, but he certainly wasn't laughing.
"Anyway I got the fuck out of there. It was an hour or so later when the adrenaline started to wear off and I realized I had fucked up my hand, so I went to the hospital."
"Justin... did he..."
He looks like he is in physical pain just thinking about the possibility.
"No. Brian, no. I promise."
Every bit of his relief is written on his face.
"Is your hand going to be OK?"
"The doctor said the breaks are clean. Once they heal I should be as good as new... well you know, as good as I was."
He just nods.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"It just happened the day before yesterday. I wanted to tell you in person."
I think for a second.
"I wanted to come home."
"I'm glad you did."
He finally moves towards me. Finally kisses me. But he's being gentle with me and I can't take it. Not right now.
"I need you to fuck me."
He's playing at something. And it's starting to piss me off. But I take him to bed and fuck him. Because as much as I want to shake him and get him to tell me how he's really feeling, I want to fuck him even more.
It’s been a month since the last time my cock was inside him. But I can't help tonguing his hole and sucking his balls first. I have to lick the wetness from the tip of his cock before I can go on.
It isn't until I'm buried deep inside him and his legs are wrapped around my waist that he really relaxes. I make it last. I make him beg me for it. And only when I know he's forgotten everything else do I give him what he wants. What I want.
I don't know if it’s been hours or minutes but I wake up to the sounds of him having a nightmare. It’s been a while, but it feels the same to wake up to his whimpers.
"Hey, wake up."
He looks confused for a minute.
"Fuck. Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."
"Why are you trying to pretend like this thing isn't bothering you when obviously it is."
"I never said it didn't freak me out. And believe me, I'm rethinking picking up strangers. But I am OK. I'm proud of how I handled myself. I think more than anything this just stirred up a bunch of other shit for me."
"I swear to fucking god, I'm going to lock you in a padded room and never let you out again."
"I don't know about a padded room, but you can lock me up here for the next six weeks if you want."
"That's how long I have to wear this cast. I can't paint with this fucking thing. There's only one other thing that I'm really good at and seeing as I'm not picking up strangers any more, I'm going to need you for that."
"I'm not sure six weeks is going to be enough for me."
"Six weeks of this fucking cast is going to be more than enough for me."
"I wasn't talking about the cast."
"I know. You always freak out when something bad happens."
"I always miss you when you're gone."
"I always miss you when I'm gone too."
"Well then, we have six weeks to figure out a solution."
He just smiles. So fucking big and bright.
I weave my fingers into his hair and pull him to me. He's still smiling when I kiss him.