Part 11


The Incident

They left the club in high spirits, and holding hands. The music had been good, the booze better, and both JC and Justin had a fine buzz.

They were young and in love.

They were happy.

“Admit it, you liked the music,” JC said, tugging on Justin’s hand. JC had talked Justin into abandoning their usual punk club for a more mellow jazz one tonight.

“Hmm,” was Justin’s non-committal reply. “I liked that it was dark, and I could grope you under the table.”

JC’s blush could be seen in the dim moonlight. “That was a plus,” he agreed, pulling Justin close for a deep kiss. Tongues dueled and sighs escaped for a long moment before JC finally pulled away. “And no one looked twice at us,” JC noted as they resumed walking.

That much was true. While the two boys weren’t as punked out as they normally would be for a club night, they still looked the part, eyeliner, spiked hair, studded cuffs and all. But beyond a first glance when they had walked in, the jazz club patrons had left them alone, not caring that two punk kids had joined their midst as long as they behaved and enjoyed the music.

“That was pretty cool,” Justin agreed, always surprised when he’s accepted places. “But then again, as I said, it was dark in there.”

JC laughed. “Not that dark, lover.”

Justin leaned in for another kiss. “Let’s go home,” he urged.

JC could only nod.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled behind them. “Would you look at the two faggots.”

Both boys froze at the words. Slowly, Justin turned around, taking a step to place himself between JC and the three men facing them. JC tugged on Justin’s hand. “Just, let’s go,” he said, only to have Justin shake him off. JC finally turned as well.

The three men were dressed as cowboys, or, at least, as Seattle cowboys. JC noticed their boots were fancy and new; their hats pristine. If any of them had ever been on a horse in their lives, JC would be surprised. But they were big. And mean looking. And three of them. Once again, JC tugged on Justin’s hand, silently urging him to leave, but again, the younger man shrugged JC off, taking a step towards the trio.

“Was there something you wanted, boys?” Justin asked.

“Boys?” the one in the middle said. He appeared to be the leader. “Did you hear that? The faggot called us ‘boys,’” he said as the other two laughed.

“That’s pretty dumb, Rick,” one of the others said. “Looks to me like he’s a boy, or maybe a girl, with all that makeup?”

Rick and the other man laughed. “You may be right,” Rick said, coming towards Justin. “But I’m a man, faggot. Unlike you and your girlfriend here.”

“Justin…” JC said.

“Ooo…Justin!” Rick said in a mockingly high voice. He moved closer to JC, the other two keeping between him and Justin. “What’s the matter, girly, don’t want to see your pretty boy here get all beat up?”

JC’s eyes were locked on Justin, watching as an expression came over the younger man’s face that JC had seen only once before. On the night they met, when JC thought Justin was going to kill him. JC’s eyes pleaded with Justin not to do anything. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a fine mist started down from the clouds.

“What’cha gonna do, boy?” Rick kept needling Justin, finally coming to stand next to JC. One of his meaty hands reached up and fisted itself in JC’s hair. “Gonna protect your bitch, or run like the pussy I think you are?” He held tight as JC struggled to get free.

Justin took a step towards JC, only to stop as the other two cowboys blocked his way. “Get. Your hands. Off of him.”

Rick tugged harder at JC’s hair while withdrawing a jackknife from his back pocket. Flipping the blade open, he held it against JC’s exposed throat. JC stilled at the feel of the blade.

Justin’s eyes turned black. “You’re going to die for that,” he vowed, his voice calm.

So calm, the cowboy hesitated a moment, then nodded to his friends. They responded immediately, and the fight was on.

JC resumed struggling as the two men attacked Justin, the knife slicing a bit into his skin. “Now, now,” Rick said, pulling JC’s head back farther. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he drawled, rubbing the knife up and down JC’s throat. “Well, not yet, anyway. Until my friends take care of your faggot friend. Then we’ll do you.”

JC’s eyes slid from the fight to his captor. “I wouldn't be too sure of that,” he said, indicating the three involved in front of them.

For Justin was indeed making a fight of it. He’d managed to down one of the cowboy’s, giving him a sharp kick in the groin before ramming his Doc Marten shod foot into the cowboy’s gut. The thug went reeling, landing on his ass into a pile of boxes, dead to the world. The other cowboy pulled a knife and flipped it open. Justin just stood still, waiting for the man to attack. When he did, Justin used the man’s own momentum against him, pulling the arm of the hand holding the knife toward him, and anchoring it between his own arms and leg. One good twist, and the third cowboy screeched with pain as his arm broke in three places.

That left Rick, still holding a knife to JC’s throat.

JC and Justin’s eyes locked for a moment, a silent communication passing between them. JC lifted a knee, ramming his heel back down with force upon Rick’s foot. Rick screamed, loosing his grasp on JC’s hair enough for him to twist away. He fell to his knees on the slick ground, scrambling to get clear of Rick and the knife.

And then…Justin was on him.

Sweat and the rain obscured JC’s vision, and he struggled to see Justin and Rick fighting. He rose to his feet, intent on helping Justin, his hand pressed to his neck to check the flow of blood from the cut. He blinked, trying to find Justin in the dim light coming from the streetlamps. He heard grunts and groans and turned, finding Justin on the ground, straddling Rick as he lay on the sidewalk.

Justin’s hands were around Rick’s throat. The cowboys’ eyes were bulging as Justin leaned down to whisper to him. “You’re not worth it,” he said, letting go of the man’s throat and rising from the ground.

Justin and JC looked at each other across the sidewalk. The rain continued to come down, plastering their clothes to their skin. Both of them were breathing heavy. A siren sounded in the distance, shocking them both out of their trance, and grabbing hands, they ran.

They ran for blocks, keeping to the alleys, dodging the streets where there were crowds or cars or people. Finally, Justin pulled them into a dark corner, peeking around to make sure there was no police, no people. “Jesus, Jayce,” he said, coming back to where JC was standing in the alley. “I thought we’d had it…when I saw the knife…Jesus,” Justin said again. He pulled a bandana from his pocket to press onto the cut on JC’s neck. “I can’t believe he cut you,” Justin said. “Bastard, I should have…”

Justin couldn’t finish his sentence as JC slammed his mouth onto the younger man. He pried open Justin’s mouth and took they boy’s mouth fiercely, roughly. His hands moved up to grasp Justin by the ears, pulling him closer to JC, as JC lifted a leg to smash his erection into Justin’s.

The heat coming off of JC startled Justin, and he pulled back, searching JC’s face. The older man’s eyes were hot with desire, his chest heaving with labored breaths. “JC?” Justin asked, his voice thick.

“Fuck me now,” JC said, pulling at the fastenings on Justin’s pants, grabbing at his cock with a hard hand. “Fuck me now!

Justin needed no second urging, the fire in his blood pounding. He shoved his pants down, then reached for JC’s. The baggy pants slipped down easy, and Justin pulled JC’s legs free. Lifting the older man under the ass, Justin wrapped JC’s legs around his waist, anchoring his back against the rough brick of the alley building. Their rain slicked bodies met, and Justin surged inside.

JC howled as Justin entered him, tightening his legs and twisting closer to Justin. Justin’s powerful arms lifted JC almost all the way off of him, then pulled JC back down, impaling him again on his cock. Over and over and over this happened until finally, JC’s back arched and he exploded between them. Justin thrust one more time, then he spilled himself inside his lover with a shout.

***

How they got back to their apartment was a blur, but soon, they were both toweling off, and avoiding each other’s eyes. Justin watched JC as he brushed his teeth, his hand shaking. He watched as the older man looked in the mirror, his shaking fingers touching the cut on his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Justin said softly.

JC turned to him. “Sorry?” he asked, but couldn’t meet Justin’s eyes.

Justin joined him at the sink, his own hand reaching towards JC’s neck, his own fingers shaking. “I almost got you killed tonight,” Justin said, his voice a whisper. “I should have left…should have listened to you and not let them, let him, hurt you.”

JC’s hand covered Justin’s, and he brought the other man’s hand to his mouth. “Justin, you saved my life tonight,” JC said simply. Justin shook his head. “Yes, you did!” JC repeated. “That guy…Rick…he was going to kill me, Justin. If you hadn’t…” He kissed Justin’s fingers again. “Thank you.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Justin asked. JC shook his head, his face turned down. “Then…I don’t understand. Why. Why won’t you look at me?” He dipped his knees, trying to catch JC’s gaze. “I thought you might be ashamed of me.”

JC closed his eyes. “I’m ashamed of myself,” JC confessed.

“What?” Justin had had enough, and finally took JC’s chin in his hand and forced the other man to look at him. “Why?”

JC’s reply was so soft, Justin almost didn’t hear it. “Because I liked it.”

“You…liked…”

“I liked it. I liked watching you fight. I liked watching you beat up those guys. That’s why.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s why…in the alley…” JC blushed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” JC moved past Justin and went into their room. “So, I’m kind of having trouble with the idea that I got off by watching you fight, Justin.” JC sat down heavily on the bed.

“I did, too, you know,” Justin said, coming to join him on the bed. “You weren’t alone in that alley, remember.”

JC swallowed. “But did you…were you…did you get excited by the fight?”

“Yes.”

Silence spread between them. Justin knew JC would now tie himself in knots over this if he didn’t do something fast. “Listen, maybe it wasn’t the fight…maybe it was just. I don’t know. You were happy not to be dead?”

JC looked at him, smiling slightly. “Thanks,” he said, kissing Justin on the cheek. “But no, that wasn’t a celebration of life fuck we had in the alley, Justin. It was an ‘oh my god my lover is beating up a guy and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen’ fuck.”

“And you had so many of those, right?” Justin mocked.

“Don’t.” JC said, rising from the bed with not a small bit of anger. “Just. Don’t.”

“I won’t have to, JC,” Justin said, his own voice raising. “You’ll whip yourself enough over this, proving to yourself one more time that you’re evil and wicked and everything bad your parents think of you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Bullshit,” Justin said. “That’s exactly what you’re thinking. But guess what? You’re not perfect. You’re human. Violence, JC, excited you. Big fucking deal.”

“It is a big deal!” JC screamed.

“No, it’s not. And tonight wasn’t the first time, either.”

JC blinked. “What do you mean?”

“When we met, JC…you wanted me. What did you think I did with those johns, square dance?”

“That was different…”

“No, it wasn’t. And every time I left and came back bruised, you took me back. And when my mother died.” JC flinched at the memory, making Justin relent. “I’m sorry…Jayce…oh, Jesus, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“No, it’s okay,” JC said, sitting back down, his shoulders slumping. “I’m just…can we just go to bed? I’m really tired.”

Justin watched as JC climbed into bed and turned off his light. The older man was cast in shadow, his eyes closed.

Justin bent down and kissed JC on the forehead before leaving the bedroom. He sat down on the couch and buried his head in his hands.



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