FIC: Eclipse (Centon; Rated R; 7/?)
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers apply.
Title: Eclipse
Pairing: Centon (main)
Story Rating: R
Chapter Rating: R-13
Summary: When trust becomes an issue, things can go horribly wrong.
Author's Notes: I am running out of THANK YOU's to say, but I do love all of you so very, VERY hard. I'm so glad y'all are enjoying reading this as I am writing it. It's getting a little crazy, but hang in there, we're about halfway done. :D
X-posted to: marcianafics, cenaortonmylove and lady_tavington
Previous:
1. Just Tonight
2. The Morning After
3. Dinner At Last
4. The Proposal
5. The First Bite
6. Change Of Heart
======================================================================
ECLIPSE
a CENTON fic
by MARCIANA (lady_tavington)
Chapter 7
The Second Bite
The woman at the counter directs John to the back of the cafe, through a small door that leads to a bar that’s about to open in a few hours. There he finds Justin, leaning against a barstool and listening to the band practicing.
“There you are,” he greets, and Justin turns around, smiling when he sees John.
“Oh hey!” Justin replies, “Listen to them. Aren’t they amazing?”
John, politely, pretends to listen for a few seconds before addressing what he came here to tell Justin. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says over the music, “I think I was going through some weird early mid-life crisis or insecurity. Let’s just forget the whole thing happened, okay?”
“But I already did,” Justin replies, and John is slightly taken aback.
“Forget it?” he asks.
“No, I already saw Randy,” Justin answers, and John feels the blood drain from his face as he stares at Justin as if he’s never seen anything quite like him, “You told me to text you if something happened. Let’s go outside, where it’s more private.”
John, weak, nods, and lets Justin lead him back out to the cafe. They immediately find a table far removed from the majority of the patrons, and order themselves a couple of coffees.
“I approached him again when I saw him in the corridors,” Justin starts to narrate, “This was about two hours before the show started. He invited me back to his locker room for some pre-show snacks.”
“Wait,” John says, flabbergasted, “You were in his locker room?”
“Yeah, he brought me there,” Justin confirms, “We started talking. He asked me about South Africa. He talked about his family. He kept staring at me. And then...”
It’s as if Justin is suddenly unsure if he should keep going. John isn’t sure he should either, but against his better judgment, he asks, “Then what?”
Justin looks at him nervously. “He asked me if he could kiss me,” he says.
John feels a thousand lead weights drop into his stomach. It feels like he’s been punched square in the throat, or in the lungs. Either way, he’s finding it a little harder to breathe.
“...I didn’t ask you to do this,” John says, as if it’s Justin’s fault.
“No, but then he said he COULDN’T kiss me,” Justin continues, “Because he was taken. At first, he was hesitant.”
John is barely holding on. “At first?” he echoes, the sting of the words bouncing around in his brain maliciously.
“He said he knew somewhere where he could kiss me that nobody would see,” Justin says, “He led me out to his tour bus...Should I stop?”
For John is clutching his coffee cup so hard, it’s shaking. John notices, and lets go, but some of the contents have already spilled to the saucer under his cup.
“No,” he says, taking a deep, shaky breath, “Keep going.”
“So, we went into his bus,” Justin tells John, watching his every expression, “We were alone. He put his mouth to my lips and we just kind of...hovered there for a long time. I could tell he really wanted it, he was excited in his--”
“That’s enough,” John suddenly cuts him off, barely able to stand it anymore. It’s like a vice is slowly tightening around his chest, crushing his lungs and squeezing hard at his heart as if trying to make it explode. “You were just supposed to meet up with him, see what he did, then report to me.”
Justin gazes at him through apologetic eyes, then shakes his head. “I don’t really know what you want,” he tells him honestly.
“Not this,” John answers truthfully, “This was a fucking mistake. I never should have involved you. I’m sorry.”
He pulls some money out of his wallet as he stands, placing it on the table. “For the coffees,” he says, trying to regain his composure as he walks away.
John sits in his car, unmoving, for minutes on end. He feels numb, defeated. What had he been expecting though, knowing Randy? Was this not what he had expected to hear from Justin when he’d first made the proposal?
Just because you expect something doesn’t mean you’ll be fully prepared for it.
He plants his forehead on the steering wheel, breathing deeply, trying to think of a next move. But then there’s a loud bang, and when he looks up, he finds Justin on the ground. Two cars in front of him, a guy is coming out of the front seat, apologizing to Justin and helping him up.
It doesn’t take John two seconds to make a decision. He gets out of his car and goes over to help.
“I didn’t see you there,” the man is saying, apparently having opened his door just as Justin had been passing, sending him crashing to the ground, “I’m really sorry, man.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Justin says just as John closes the gap between them at last, “It’s just a scratch, I’ll be okay.” He opens and closes his palm, as if that will do anything for his grazed, bleeding wrist area.
“I’ve got a first aid kit in my car,” John offers, “I can patch you right back up.”
Justin can barely look at John, but he nods, and John leads him to his car. Justin gets into the passenger seat in the back as John goes for the first aid kit in the glove compartment before joining him back there.
John takes out a small bandage and folds it, pressing it over Justin’s wound. “Hold it down to stop the bleeding,” he tells him. As Justin’s hand moves to replace John’s, his fingers brush against John’s knuckles, and a shudder runs down John’s spine fleetingly.
As John sets about preparing to clean the wound and place a cleaner bandage on to it, Justin stares at him, his expression still one of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” Justin says, voice low and quiet.
John sighs. “It’s my fault,” he tells him as he dabs Betadine on the wound. Justin watches as John puts a clean bandage on the wound and tapes it down, apparently used to treating minor cuts if he carries a first aid kit around.
“Will it scar?” Justin asks, looking at his wrist as if it was a newly repaired gadget.
“It shouldn’t,” is John’s simple reply as he keeps the kit away.
“Thank you,” Justin says, “...I guess I’ll get going.”
He starts to open the door, but John stops him, grabbing his other wrist at the last minute. “Wait,” he says. For seconds on end, they just stare at each other, one perplexed, the other resigned. Justin looks down at the hand holding his wrist, and John follows his gaze, letting go almost instantly when he realizes it.
“Tell me,” he says to Justin, “Just...tell me everything.”
“Are you sure?” Justin asks him.
“No,” John replies honestly, “But I need to know.”
Justin closes the door again, and tries his damnedest best to look John in the eye as he continues his story, picking up from where he left off in the cafe.
“He put in a movie,” Justin says, elbow against the backrest, head in his hand, “But he wasn’t really interested in it. I guess it was just to keep the curious people at bay. We could hear them, but we were sure they wouldn’t see us. I pushed my hand down his trunks, and I felt him. I started moving my hand on him.”
John swallows, with difficulty. “Did he like that?” he asks, tracing circles lazily with his finger on the space between them, as if trying to distract himself from his own feelings.
“He seemed to really like it, yeah,” Justin answers honestly, “I just kept doing it, just kept moving my hand. I went a little faster, and he said, ‘I can’t come, I can’t come, we’ve got a show to do.’ But I wouldn’t stop. I bit at his tongue, and just like that, he came, in my hand.”
John blinks up at the ceiling of his car, hardly able to stand what he’s hearing. “Then...” he murmurs, trying to find his voice, “Then what?”
“Then he said we needed to get back inside,” Justin continues, “For the show. So he left. I followed a little bit later just so nobody would be suspicious.”
Outside, the sun is starting to set, casting a soft orange tinge on the Florida sky. Justin is gazing at John’s finger, and John finds himself intrigued at how Justin always seems to be doing that.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he says finally, “I just...I want you to be clean. I know you are, but...”
“I can get tests, when I find the time,” Justin agrees, nodding.
“Good,” John answers, not quite sure why he’s even asking this of him, “Then I want you to show me the results.”
“Okay,” Justin replies confidently, “No problem.”
“Then I want you to meet with him again,” John finishes, “One last time.”
The look on Justin’s face tells John he knew that was exactly what John was about to say.
~ TO BE CONTINUED. ~
========================================================================
Love Lots And God Bless!
~ MARCIANA ~
http://twitter.com/marciana86
Title: Eclipse
Pairing: Centon (main)
Story Rating: R
Chapter Rating: R-13
Summary: When trust becomes an issue, things can go horribly wrong.
Author's Notes: I am running out of THANK YOU's to say, but I do love all of you so very, VERY hard. I'm so glad y'all are enjoying reading this as I am writing it. It's getting a little crazy, but hang in there, we're about halfway done. :D
X-posted to: marcianafics, cenaortonmylove and lady_tavington
Previous:
1. Just Tonight
2. The Morning After
3. Dinner At Last
4. The Proposal
5. The First Bite
6. Change Of Heart
======================================================================
ECLIPSE
a CENTON fic
by MARCIANA (lady_tavington)
Chapter 7
The Second Bite
The woman at the counter directs John to the back of the cafe, through a small door that leads to a bar that’s about to open in a few hours. There he finds Justin, leaning against a barstool and listening to the band practicing.
“There you are,” he greets, and Justin turns around, smiling when he sees John.
“Oh hey!” Justin replies, “Listen to them. Aren’t they amazing?”
John, politely, pretends to listen for a few seconds before addressing what he came here to tell Justin. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says over the music, “I think I was going through some weird early mid-life crisis or insecurity. Let’s just forget the whole thing happened, okay?”
“But I already did,” Justin replies, and John is slightly taken aback.
“Forget it?” he asks.
“No, I already saw Randy,” Justin answers, and John feels the blood drain from his face as he stares at Justin as if he’s never seen anything quite like him, “You told me to text you if something happened. Let’s go outside, where it’s more private.”
John, weak, nods, and lets Justin lead him back out to the cafe. They immediately find a table far removed from the majority of the patrons, and order themselves a couple of coffees.
“I approached him again when I saw him in the corridors,” Justin starts to narrate, “This was about two hours before the show started. He invited me back to his locker room for some pre-show snacks.”
“Wait,” John says, flabbergasted, “You were in his locker room?”
“Yeah, he brought me there,” Justin confirms, “We started talking. He asked me about South Africa. He talked about his family. He kept staring at me. And then...”
It’s as if Justin is suddenly unsure if he should keep going. John isn’t sure he should either, but against his better judgment, he asks, “Then what?”
Justin looks at him nervously. “He asked me if he could kiss me,” he says.
John feels a thousand lead weights drop into his stomach. It feels like he’s been punched square in the throat, or in the lungs. Either way, he’s finding it a little harder to breathe.
“...I didn’t ask you to do this,” John says, as if it’s Justin’s fault.
“No, but then he said he COULDN’T kiss me,” Justin continues, “Because he was taken. At first, he was hesitant.”
John is barely holding on. “At first?” he echoes, the sting of the words bouncing around in his brain maliciously.
“He said he knew somewhere where he could kiss me that nobody would see,” Justin says, “He led me out to his tour bus...Should I stop?”
For John is clutching his coffee cup so hard, it’s shaking. John notices, and lets go, but some of the contents have already spilled to the saucer under his cup.
“No,” he says, taking a deep, shaky breath, “Keep going.”
“So, we went into his bus,” Justin tells John, watching his every expression, “We were alone. He put his mouth to my lips and we just kind of...hovered there for a long time. I could tell he really wanted it, he was excited in his--”
“That’s enough,” John suddenly cuts him off, barely able to stand it anymore. It’s like a vice is slowly tightening around his chest, crushing his lungs and squeezing hard at his heart as if trying to make it explode. “You were just supposed to meet up with him, see what he did, then report to me.”
Justin gazes at him through apologetic eyes, then shakes his head. “I don’t really know what you want,” he tells him honestly.
“Not this,” John answers truthfully, “This was a fucking mistake. I never should have involved you. I’m sorry.”
He pulls some money out of his wallet as he stands, placing it on the table. “For the coffees,” he says, trying to regain his composure as he walks away.
John sits in his car, unmoving, for minutes on end. He feels numb, defeated. What had he been expecting though, knowing Randy? Was this not what he had expected to hear from Justin when he’d first made the proposal?
Just because you expect something doesn’t mean you’ll be fully prepared for it.
He plants his forehead on the steering wheel, breathing deeply, trying to think of a next move. But then there’s a loud bang, and when he looks up, he finds Justin on the ground. Two cars in front of him, a guy is coming out of the front seat, apologizing to Justin and helping him up.
It doesn’t take John two seconds to make a decision. He gets out of his car and goes over to help.
“I didn’t see you there,” the man is saying, apparently having opened his door just as Justin had been passing, sending him crashing to the ground, “I’m really sorry, man.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Justin says just as John closes the gap between them at last, “It’s just a scratch, I’ll be okay.” He opens and closes his palm, as if that will do anything for his grazed, bleeding wrist area.
“I’ve got a first aid kit in my car,” John offers, “I can patch you right back up.”
Justin can barely look at John, but he nods, and John leads him to his car. Justin gets into the passenger seat in the back as John goes for the first aid kit in the glove compartment before joining him back there.
John takes out a small bandage and folds it, pressing it over Justin’s wound. “Hold it down to stop the bleeding,” he tells him. As Justin’s hand moves to replace John’s, his fingers brush against John’s knuckles, and a shudder runs down John’s spine fleetingly.
As John sets about preparing to clean the wound and place a cleaner bandage on to it, Justin stares at him, his expression still one of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” Justin says, voice low and quiet.
John sighs. “It’s my fault,” he tells him as he dabs Betadine on the wound. Justin watches as John puts a clean bandage on the wound and tapes it down, apparently used to treating minor cuts if he carries a first aid kit around.
“Will it scar?” Justin asks, looking at his wrist as if it was a newly repaired gadget.
“It shouldn’t,” is John’s simple reply as he keeps the kit away.
“Thank you,” Justin says, “...I guess I’ll get going.”
He starts to open the door, but John stops him, grabbing his other wrist at the last minute. “Wait,” he says. For seconds on end, they just stare at each other, one perplexed, the other resigned. Justin looks down at the hand holding his wrist, and John follows his gaze, letting go almost instantly when he realizes it.
“Tell me,” he says to Justin, “Just...tell me everything.”
“Are you sure?” Justin asks him.
“No,” John replies honestly, “But I need to know.”
Justin closes the door again, and tries his damnedest best to look John in the eye as he continues his story, picking up from where he left off in the cafe.
“He put in a movie,” Justin says, elbow against the backrest, head in his hand, “But he wasn’t really interested in it. I guess it was just to keep the curious people at bay. We could hear them, but we were sure they wouldn’t see us. I pushed my hand down his trunks, and I felt him. I started moving my hand on him.”
John swallows, with difficulty. “Did he like that?” he asks, tracing circles lazily with his finger on the space between them, as if trying to distract himself from his own feelings.
“He seemed to really like it, yeah,” Justin answers honestly, “I just kept doing it, just kept moving my hand. I went a little faster, and he said, ‘I can’t come, I can’t come, we’ve got a show to do.’ But I wouldn’t stop. I bit at his tongue, and just like that, he came, in my hand.”
John blinks up at the ceiling of his car, hardly able to stand what he’s hearing. “Then...” he murmurs, trying to find his voice, “Then what?”
“Then he said we needed to get back inside,” Justin continues, “For the show. So he left. I followed a little bit later just so nobody would be suspicious.”
Outside, the sun is starting to set, casting a soft orange tinge on the Florida sky. Justin is gazing at John’s finger, and John finds himself intrigued at how Justin always seems to be doing that.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he says finally, “I just...I want you to be clean. I know you are, but...”
“I can get tests, when I find the time,” Justin agrees, nodding.
“Good,” John answers, not quite sure why he’s even asking this of him, “Then I want you to show me the results.”
“Okay,” Justin replies confidently, “No problem.”
“Then I want you to meet with him again,” John finishes, “One last time.”
The look on Justin’s face tells John he knew that was exactly what John was about to say.
~ TO BE CONTINUED. ~
========================================================================
Love Lots And God Bless!
~ MARCIANA ~
http://twitter.com/marciana86