HoneySyn Fanfiction - Again.
Title: Never Again.
Rating: Heavy R to NC-17 [one day, I will learn how to rate stories correctly]
Pairing: Metis/Charles
Warnings: Sexual Situations / Language / Revenge on a beloved character.
Disclaimer: I don't own any HoneySyn characters, I'm just borrowing stealing them.
Author's Notes: Well, everyone seemed pretty upset at Josh me about that last crack!fic I wrote, so, I did this in repentance for my sin against HoneySyn. Takes place after the first, although you don't necessarily have to read the first understand enjoy this one. Second person - Metis.
X -- X -- X
You're watching Josh stutter across the table, he's turning red, making crazy gestures, going off in wild tangents about how 'Charles knows nothing' and 'that's not what happened'. You know different though.
You know different because you witnessed it happen.
It had taken everything in you to not call Charles at 4:35 in the fucking morning in tears - yes tears; you may not be 'emo' but you can be emotional, dammit! - about Josh moaning into your mother's caresses. It had taken everything in you to pretend it didn't happen. To not make a scene. To wrap your arms around a body your mother's arms had been wrapped around not more then ten fucking minutes ago...
...To say those three words and not hear them said back.
Your glaring hard at him and suddenly he stops moving, stops talking, and just looks.
"Metis...I..." He takes a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay. It was a mistake."
You don't know whether to laugh, punch him, or cry like a baby.
"Well sorry isn't good enough." You can't remember what you said afterward, but people are staring, gaping at you as you leave the silent lunch room - and your ex-jock-of-a-boyfriend - behind.
You hardly realize you're running until you clash with a familiar body. Charles. He takes one look at you and leads you into the bathroom. It's here that you break down for the first time since the incident - for the first time since middle school, actually. You tell him everything, what happened, how he tried to lie, what you said at the lunch table. He laughs at your remark about him knowing everything, but stops when he sees that look in your eye.
"May..." He doesn't say anything else as you wrap your arms around him, crying hard. He doesn't offer words of comfort or tell you that everything is going to be okay. He doesn't tell you to stop crying because you're a man, and men don't cry - that just isn't Charles, and thankfully, that's not what you were expecting - instead he lets you cry on him, wrapping one arm securely around you. It's a few minutes before you calm down enough to realize Charles is running a hand through your hair. He knows you love it when people play with your hair. It's a calming thing, something you've liked since grade school. Finally you relax against him, breathing steadily into the crook of his neck.
You two stay like this for a while, both of his arms now around you, one hand still trailing through your hair.
"Josh will come looking for you." Subconsciously you clench your fists upon hearing his name. "And, lunch isn't over for another forty minutes."
"Your point?"
"My point, May..." Charles begins, grinning like a mad-man, "is that payback really is a bitch." Suddenly he's pushing you into a nearby stall, pressing you up against the nearest surface he can find. With a smirk, he leans in, capturing your lips. His tongue immediately demands entrance, exploring parts of your mouth he has yet to discover. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair. Charles is flush against you, hands gripping at your hips, pulling them closer. Subconsciously, you're surprised at how Charles is handling this matter. You're even more surprised, however, at how you're handling it. What would Josh...?
Josh.
Fucking jerk.
Charles breaks the kiss, moving those hot lips down your neck, biting and sucking, and oh god, Charles.
This is just for show, right? Just to get back at Josh? Soon you'll be back together with him like nothing ever happened. What about Jay? Oh, dear lord. Didn't Charles mention something about him and Jay hooking up after that party? All's fair in love and war, right? Right?! You don't realize you're borderline freaking out until a stern voice yanks you from your thoughts.
"Quit thinking." Charles orders from his place on your neck, brushing hair away from your eyes before moving up to claim your lips once again.
"But... what... about... Jay." You manage to get in between kisses. You're surprised you got that much out because seriously, thinking has become quite the chore.
"Don't worry about it." It's now you notice his hips grinding against yours. "Just...don't worry about it, okay?" You bite your lip, leaning your head back in a daze. His fingers are clutching your hips almost desperately as he grinds hard against you, and for the slightest of moments, you can't tell which of you needs this more.
You've never seen Charles like this - living in the moment, making irrational, unprocessed decisions - completely and utterly unguarded. His facial features are soft, unlike that of his normal sarcastic, 'I-have-the-emotional-capacity-of-a-brick' front he puts up. Finally, you're moving your hips in rhythm against his, gripping at surprisingly strong shoulders. His mouth is attached to your neck again, sucking hard, forcing blood to the surface of your pretty neck.
"Charles..." You all but moan into his hair, rocking yourself harder against him.
"What do you want May?" He's breaths into your ear, licking gently. You shudder. He knows that's your weakness.
"Don't be a dick."
"I'm not." He's undoing your belt slowly, taking his sweet-ass time. "Just tell me what you want." A hand slips below your pants, gripping suddenly at your hard length.
"Ahh...f..fuck."
"Is that your request then, hmm?" It's truly amazing that you've never noticed how incredibly seductive he can be. He's sliding your pants down, his body following them. On his knees, Charles gives you a once over, a flush covering your face as he does so. You're pretty sure you've died when he takes you almost full into his mouth, those deep eyes staring into yours while he does it and oh-my fucking-god! Your fingers are clutching his hair, pulling his head forward then back in needy thrusts. If he's discomforted, he doesn't make it apparent. He lets you fuck his mouth, enjoying the groans and dirty words falling from your swollen lips.
Because Charles knows all, he stops you before you come - you consider whining about it - grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you toward him as he backs himself up against the opposite wall a few steps away. His arms drape around your neck and a leg wraps itself around one of yours, pulling your body flush against his. In all honesty, you're surprised at what a passionate person Charles can be. You would have never expected a situation such as this to be so ... hot ... and with Charles of all people. Actually, you're a little frightened because he has you wanting him. And that ... that is seriously, seriously scary.
"Fuck me." Well, there went the passion.
"Charles are you... ya know... sure. Because I could always..." And if your cock could, it would hate you for asking such an idiotic question. You would probably have to agree with it too.
"Ask me again and I'll change my mind." You stare at him for a moment longer before taking his lips with yours, sucking gently on the bottom one. Your thigh moves roughly against his groin, a pleasant heated friction building. Grabbing his hands, you pin them above his head with one of yours. He raises a curious eyebrow, narrowing his eyes seductively. God damn, since when was Charles so sexy. You make a mental note to blame it on hormones and your emotionally distraught composure later. Right now, however, you slide down his body, leaving a wet, heated trail of kisses and nips as you go. As much as you hate the corny-cliche-ness of it, his body is really a work of art. You can't get over the way his porcelain-like skin looks against those hip bones because, damn, the boy has nice hip structure.
"I know I'm hot, but do you seriously need to do that?" Leave it to Charles to ruin your cheesy-cliche moment.
"You're an ass, you know that?" You tug off his pants, gaping a little. And again, leave it to Charles to up-show you on everything.
Including size.
Fuck.
"I know. And you love me for it."
"Shut up." Your don't waste time jacking him off, instead you wrap hot lips around his length, swirling your tongue around the head, sliding your tongue experimentally along it's slit. You're honestly surprised at how awful giving head is, but you don't much mind, because watching Charles lose his cool makes it all worth while. He's moaning your name loudly, tugging - ripping - on your hair, thrusting himself in and out of your mouth. You push away abruptly, applying a light pressure on his hips, motioning for him to turn around. He does so, without objection, and you're staring.
Your staring because he's pressed so prettily up against that wall, fingers curled beside his flushed cheeks, eyes half-lidded, bangs sticking to his face. You're staring because he's offering himself to you. You're gaping because he's now sliding fingers in and out of his mouth, shoving them roughly into his entrance, preparing himself for you. Your cock gives an involuntary twitch upon seeing this. He finishes - three fingers - breathing heavily.
"I uhm, don't have anything you know." You swallow thickly, gripping his hips a bit too tight.
Smoooth Metis, real freakin' smooth.
"And here I thought you to be the type that carries lube and condoms in his back pocket, silly me." He stares at you seriously for a moment as you position yourself behind him "I don't care." It takes a while and an ample amout of saliva, but soon he rocks his hips back, slowly filling himself with your length like a greedy whore, and fucking-a does it ever feel good. Charles is tight and warm and oh fuck. oh fuck. Charles.
"Move." Charles groans rocking his hips back roughly against yours.
Retaining half a brain, you move.
You're hoping Charles isn't a virgin - he doesn't act like one, but with his confidence level so high you can't really be sure - because a few thrusts into it and your pounding him like there's no tomorrow. The sounds coming from Charles are beautiful, needy, and so damn un-Charles it all feels a little too surreal. Your bangs are sticking to your face now, sweat slowly beginning to roll down your half-clothed body. Charles is gripping the top of the stall wall, knuckles desperately white. You reach around, grab his length, and begin pumping for all you are worth.
"Oh fuck May, harder." Your hips are slamming against his, the sick sound of smacking skin filling the restroom. A few hour-long-seconds later, the sweet reverberation of your name bouncing off the walls fills the room as he slows, giving into his orgasm. Three more thrusts and you too give into that same euphoric bliss, thrusting with each pulse as you ride out your orgasm. Not caring to pull out, you lean against Charles, burying your nose in that honeydew scented hair you've come to adore. He's breathing hard - still pressed beautifully up against that wall - eyes closed.
You're not too sure how long you stay like that, but all too soon you find yourself fastening your belt, straightening your disheveled wardrobe. He hasn't spoken to you yet and this worries you. Internally you sigh; being good at English, you tend to over analyze ev-er-y-thing. Especially dialog, which, apparently, when there is none, you tend to freak out. Just a little.
Offhandedly, you wonder if psychology would be a good field for you to major in when you finally make it to college. Getting paid a billion-and-a-half dollars an hour for analyzing people would be your kind of profession. That or getting paid to be the world's greatest Guitar Hero player, either or. Hey, you can dream, right?
The door of your stall slams open, barely missing you as you instinctively throw yourself into Charles avoiding a potentially severe case of blunt trauma to the head. An angry and all-too-familiar jock glares at you - giving you both a once over - his fist still set firmly in the door.
"So..." He pauses, continuing to regard the situation. You're pressed flush up against Charles. Your shirt isn't sitting quite right. You have marks beginning to form on your neck the size of fucking quarters. Your belt is on backwards - wtf?! - and your hair is obviously less than dry. Charles is in the same state - if not worse - and, if this were any other time, you'd be giving him shit for it right about now. "This is how it is, huh?" It takes you a moment to realize he's not talking to you, but to Charles.
"How what is?" Charles brushes it off casually. Unfortunately, you can't tell whether you're upset or glad about this. Because, dude, you had him moaning your name not too long ago. If you were an ego-tripping-maniac, you'd be crushed.
"Don't fuck with me, Charles." His fists are clenched. Momentarily, you wonder if there is a God and if somehow, somewhere, he's smiling upon you today. With your luck, however, he's probably eating popcorn, enjoying the hell out of your present predicament on a flatscreen plasma TV. Figures.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Josh." Charles is smiling, grinning like the Cheshire cat he is. You feel one of his arms snake behind you, wrapping possessively around your midsection as he nuzzles your face lovingly. "Payback is a bitch."
And if looks could kill, Charles would be six feet under.
Josh's attention then turns to you. You begin to pray.
Pleasegodletmelive.
Pleasegodletmelive.
The expression he's wearing makes you want to die inside. He's hurt. He's upset. He's completely vulnerable. You feel like an ass. Your mind is spinning. You do have a reason to make him feel this way, right? It had better be a good reason, because you're seriously hating life right now. Without another word Josh leaves, slamming open the door on his way out. You can't tell if you disappointed he let it go so fast, relieved, or shocked that he didn't punch your lights out. Relaxing, you push yourself away from your best friend, unsure of how to handle things from here.
Well, this sure is awkward.
"I .. uhm ..." Yeah. So you're good at English. It doesn't necessarily mean you're good a speaking. He takes one look at you and laughs. For a reason beyond your understanding, you join in - and it feels good. The two of you laugh until tears begin to sting at the corners of your eyes, your bodies leaning against opposite sides of that same stall.
"Never again."
"Agreed." You hate to admit it, but it really was good. It's almost unfortunate this is a one time deal. Almost.
"You owe me a century's worth of lunches for this one."
"On the contrary, it is you who owes me." He arches a brow curiously and you shrug. "So what's going on between you and Jay." His smile falters, but only for a moment. If you were anyone else - anyone besides Charles' best friend - you probably wouldn't have even noticed it.
"That, my friend, is a conversation to be held over lunch." You sigh defeated.
"Where to?"
"I thought you'd never ask." He grins at you, slinging an arm around your neck as you stroll out of the restroom together.
"Shut up."
[[Fin.]]
Ahem. Yes. So, there was my attempt at smut in the form of needy-bathroom-charles-x-metis-smex. And Josh getting served. Poor Josh. You probably noticed, but I have such a hard time with Charles' character. He's so deep and complex on so many levels. It's hard, for me, to characterize him correctly. So, I apologize if he's not everything he should be.
Regardless, the smut has been offered in repentance for thy sin.
[dies inside] Be gentle with your words, I'm still new at this. Especially the whole male x male smuttie-ness. T_T
As always, thank you for reading. ♥