This chapter has been a long time coming and an absolute nightmare to write and I honestly don't know if it works. Thank you for all those who encouraged by leaving comments. Hope it isn't a disappointment because I think I lost the will to live after the 3rd rewrite.

Chapter 6

Walking over to the open bedroom door, Craig leaned his head against the frame, watching in amused silence as John Paul fought his way into a pair of tight fitting black jeans. As he pulled them over his hips, Craig's amusement faded into a softly indrawn breath. Unconsciously seductive, John Paul wiggled as he tried to master the stiff, unforgiving material before the button was finally secured, displaying his arse to perfection. Not wanting to make his presence know yet, Craig forced himself to remain still, his eyes possessive as they moved further up to take in the beauty of John Paul's bare torso. The contrast between the pale white of his skin against the stark blackness of the denim was as sexy as hell, and Craig could feel a familiar heat coursing through his veins. Trying to fight the urge to go and rip the damn trousers back off again he could only stare mesmerised as a black shirt was shrugged into. Jesus, he was so fucking graceful at times, just the simple act of getting dressed was an art form in itself that left Craig hard and desperately craving more. Still captivated, his eyes followed slender fingers as they began moving up the front of the shirt, fastening it, until with a final tug it sat in place. Almost done, John Paul then smoothed his hands down over the soft cotton before finally checking his appearance in the mirror; twisting slightly to make sure he looked just as good from the back as from the front. Giving himself a satisfied smile, he turned, his eyes deliberately slamming straight into Craig's.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Shit, so much for not being noticed. Stepping more fully into the room, Craig blew him a mock kiss, loving the dark look he got in return. " "I can't help it if you're so pretty I can't take my eyes off of you, besides, the amount of time you just spent preening and posturing, I think it was you enjoying yourself...Mercedes and Carmel have nothing on you!"

The muttered, "Fuck off," had Craig fighting to hide his grin, especially when it was accompanied by John Paul blushing a telling shade of red. Following him over towards the bed, Craig sprawled next to him on the mattress, as he watched him pull on his shoes. "Hey, don't be embarrassed...if I had an ass like yours I'd be staring at it in the mirror too!"

Sensing the blatant perusal of his backside, John Paul turned, trying to keep his face serious. Deliberately, he reached out to flip Craig fully onto his back before straddling him, pinning his hips with the weight of his body. His eyes narrowed in pretend threat as he saw laughter mixed with desire in the brown depths looking back at him. Leaning closer he let his voice come out in a low, husky growl. "And if I had a mouth as 'pretty' as yours I damn well wouldn't be wasting it on smart arse comments." Letting his thumb follow the contour of Craig's bottom lip, he continued to stare down until Craig breathed in unsteadily. Giving him a satisfied smile, he made him wait before gifting him with a quick, hard kiss before withdrawing.

Standing back up, now it was his turn to let his eyes roam Craig's body, meaningfully raising his eyebrows in a taunting gesture as his gaze settled on the telling outline of his erection. Hearing a soft gasp, he reluctantly dragged his gaze back to Craig's face. Seeing the pleading look there had him desperately trying to ignore his own stab of desire. Suddenly he hated the fact he had to leave for work, hating even more that he would be leaving alone. Swallowing hard, he grabbed his jacket, slipping his arms slowly into the sleeves, trying to ignore his own body's urges. Still, the sight of Craig on the bed in front of him, totally there for the taking, mouth enticingly open as he tried to draw air into his lungs, had his cock aching desperately. For a moment he wavered before with a resigned sigh he held out a hand to pull Craig to his feet.

As they stood, slightly breathless, John Paul could no longer hold in the words that had been hovering between them all night. "Come with me?" There was an intensity to them that belied their simplicity.

Craig sighed. "John Paul...don't." His voice was quiet.

"Don't what, Craig? Spoil the illusion that everything between us is fine?" Seeing Craig's eyes narrow, clearly warning him not to push it, John Paul dipped his own head a little, hiding his face. Always it came back to this, same question, same answer. Feeling guilty for spoiling the mood, but unable to leave it, he tried a different approach. "It's just that you've not been to the club since I...well since...you got back." He shifted nervously, his eyes finally lifting, beseeching. "I just miss you being there."

Feeling his irritation slip away as quickly as it had arrived, Craig reached out his hands to hold on to John Paul's hips. "I know but not tonight, yeah?" Wishing John Paul could see that this was just as difficult for him, he pulled him in closer for a brief hug before reluctantly letting him go again. "We'll sort it. It's just we both need to do it our own way, in our own time." Seeing John Paul was about to speak again, he placed a gentle finger on his lips before he turned him round, pushing him firmly into the main living area. "Now go for God's sake, before you're late and they fire your stubborn ass?"

Feeling defeated, John Paul reached for his bag as he was propelled forwards. "I'm going...But if you change your mind...?"

"I won't..." Craig followed him to the door, holding it open. Their eyes met as if both were desperate to communicate something that words couldn't express."Come here you." Craig reached out a hand to grasp the other's neck, bringing him close so that they could leisurely explore the warmth of each other's mouths. The gentleness was compelling but hearing a soft telling moan made Craig stifle a smile. Needing to make things right between them before he could let him go, wanting to wipe away the tension that the simple request had caused, he let his other hand move lower to caress John Paul's cock. Thinking of how he'd been made to squirm on the bed, he fondled him shamelessly before giving him a teasing squeeze as he finally stepped away, plastering an innocent expression on his face. "...but I'll wait up I promise."

"Shit." The desperate, half groan made Craig laugh out loud.

"Just go will you, you dork." With an almost petulant look, John Paul backed away down the hallway towards the communal lift. "Oh and McQueen..." The words made him pause, his stance slightly wary, as he saw the calculated look on Craig's face. Watching helplessly, he held his breath, as brown eyes deliberately ran up and down his body before coming to rest on his groin, where the definite outline of his straining cock was shown off to perfection by the tightness of his jeans. Craig's smile was pure satisfaction "Don't be late!"

Feeling himself harden even more, John Paul tried to speak but could only flounder helplessly as no words came. Finally, he had to be content with adjusting himself, so that his state of arousal wasn't quite so noticeable. As he stepped into the lift his heartfelt ' You bastard' floated back to where Craig stood.

Laughing again, Craig waited until the lift doors closed before reluctantly walking back into the flat. Throwing himself down on the sofa his laughter faded, changing to frustration, as the realisation hit that he was once more stuck here by himself, on a Friday night, with a raging hard on and only his hand for company. This was getting ridiculous.

The hot, heavy beat of the music dominated, as it subconsciously crept into the bloodstream and pulsated along veins already pumping wildly with a mixture of adrenaline and alcohol. It set the mood, ensnaring the willing to fall into its intoxicating rhythm, as bodies were given over to its command. And John Paul loved it. He loved being in control of the crowds. He loved being able to seduce from a distance and dictate the atmosphere. He also loved the freedom and escape that music gave him. It was his release...and as he let himself soar he took those lucky enough to be in the club on any given night with him.

Tonight was different though. Working the decks, John Paul only kept half an eye on the gyrating masses in front of him, assessing automatically what they needed...but he was distracted, for once, the music was white noise in his head, leaving him firmly grounded in reality instead of allowing him to take flight.

It had been a nearly two months since Craig had returned and he'd confessed. That night had changed them both. It had stripped away everything, leaving them both utterly exposed and achingly vulnerable. But amidst the wreckage the one thing that remained intact was their love for each other and its strength brought them back together. But John Paul wasn't naive, he knew his actions had damaged them and that in life there was always a price to pay. Hell he should know he was a McQueen; his whole family were experts in having to clean up after their mistakes. But some mistakes were harder than others to put right.

Tiredly, he glanced down at his watch, 1.05 am...he still had about an hour of his live set to go before he could leave, his shift done for the night. Unable to help himself his eyes swung once more to the door, hoping despite everything to see a familiar brown head amongst the crowd but already knowing he wouldn't. Idly he allowed his gaze to drift towards the bar, telling himself he was stupid to feel disappointed. It was too soon...the hurt he had caused was still too raw. Shaking his head at his own frustration, he cursed his own stupidity. He'd always wanted to be the one person Craig could totally rely on to be true to him, especially knowing about his history with previous relationships, but he'd screwed that up big time and now he was here feeling sorry for himself. He was pathetic. Hating himself, hating what he'd done, he plastered an empty smile on his face and turned back to his music.

Feeling restless, Craig idly flicked through the endless channels, knowing that his heart wasn't really into watching anything. Finally giving up he threw the remote down on the sofa, his thoughts a swirling mess of confused indecision. He fucking hated being stuck here but somehow him going to the club with John Paul had become a big issue between them. They were both too stubborn that was the problem. He knew John Paul wanted him there to prove something to him, but he had something to prove too. Flipping over onto his stomach, Craig buried his face into the cushion beneath him and moaned softly. And what they both wanted to prove to the other sat like a barrier between them, a stupid five letter word, screwing with both their heads.

Trust!

God he hated that word. What made it worse was that John Paul knew of every insecurity and hang-up he had in relation to it. He knew in detail how he'd felt when people had let him down, knew of every screwed up emotion he'd experienced. He even got Craig's paranoia when it came to relationships. Craig had shared his feelings with him about his dad. He'd told him about Natalie. He even understood the scars Darlene had left behind, how the lessons he'd learned from her stayed with him even today. But John Paul knowing was now working against them, because the bloody idiot was using it to crucify himself with. He'd now added himself to the list of people who had hurt him, unable to see how wrong he was, how different his actions were. He was more to Craig than just one mistaken, drunken night...but could he get that through his thick skull...could he hell!

Turning his head to one side, he looked around the room. The dark shadows he was surrounded by took him back to the night he'd returned from Scotland, and walked into the mess their lives had become. With a wistful smile he let his gaze go to the window. Almost he could see John Paul stood there, that damn bottle grasped tightly in his hand as he tried to escape a reality he didn't want to face by drowning himself in alcohol. For a moment the smile reached his eyes. There was no way after all they'd been through that he was going to let that happen. Being possessive and bloody minded had its advantages at times.

But that night had tested them both. It had brought other truths with it that had shaken their faith in what they had, what they were. John Paul had crossed a line that in his pain had become blurred and in that moment something between them had shifted. Trust. Breathing in slowly he allowed the word to brush across his thoughts once more. The problem with it was, once it was damaged it was so hard to put the pieces of it back together. It was like a jigsaw puzzle that no longer fit to make the image you wanted...instead the picture was sort of distorted, slightly warped. He understood this because he'd been there...but this time it was John Paul who struggled with it, believing he no longer had any right to it.

Turning back over he glaring at the ceiling. But it didn't seem to matter whose problem it was, it still left him stuck here...alone! His mind drifted for a moment, picturing John Paul at the club, imagining the heavy, sultry heat that always had him opening his shirt in the way that he knew drove Craig mad. He could see in his mind those looks he would send his way, the mixture of soft intimate smiles that made him think he was the only one in the room... and the darker intense ones that made him wish he was. Fuck. His body started to respond again and his reasons for why he was putting himself though this suddenly seemed slightly less important. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way.

Needing inspiration, he stood up without any real purpose and walked over to lean his head against the cool glass of the window, letting his eyes search the dark, inky blackness of the Dublin skyline. The sky looked empty. He always thought it kind of sad how easily the stars got lost behind the false lights of the city. The cold stillness of the apartent tugged at his heart. It wasn't just the stars that got lost sometimes. That was something else John Paul didn't get. Craig knew exactly how seductive it was to try to make yourself disappear but whereas as John Paul had hidden behind a bottle of spirits Craig had chosen a different route. He'd become lost a few years ago beneath a cocky swagger. Jesus before he'd known John Paul he'd worn it like a suit of armour, with his biting sarcasm the weapon he used to shield himself. God no wonder he'd had no mates. Well until there was him!

This time when he thought of John Paul, he saw the boy he knew back then, the boy who'd seen beneath all of his crap, who had smiled gently at his bravado and bluster...who somehow had found, with no real effort, the real person he'd hidden so carefully away. And instead of stripping away his armour he'd subtly added himself to it, becoming as much of a protector of his wounded interior, as he himself was. He'd seemed to smile at the world as if he knew something it didn't, as if he was in on this big secret. And in some ways he was. He got Craig like nobody else because he was the only one that bothered to see him.

Craig suddenly laughed...and the idiot thought he was like all the others who'd screwed him over! He had no idea of how different he was.

Fuck he missed him sometimes, that young boy who had made knowing him his very own specialist subject. When it came to understanding how he worked, John Paul just seemed to have all the answers that mattered, displaying such a naive innocence and confidence in what they'd had that Craig couldn't help but believe too, even when things had become difficult... even when John Paul had fallen in love with him. Craig sighed, a gentle look in his eyes.

Talk about life changing moments. The bastard had knocked his world right off its axis and their messed up feelings, screwed them both up. Craig grinned at his faint reflection in the glass. Stupid bloody McQueens, always having to go after what they wanted. His grin grew wider...ah but fuck...being wanted by John Paul was the best damn feeling ever, even if he'd been too stubborn to admit it at the time! But he'd got there eventually...and then everything really had come crashing down around them. And he'd learned that he could be a bastard too, that he could lie and cheat and betray trust with the best of them.

Jesus, their love had been selfish and destructive, but there was also a purity at its centre that they somehow held on to. They just loved, no matter what, it was that simple...despite lies, engagements and heartbreaking goodbyes, they just seemed to survive and they still survived.

And even now, despite everything...that purity remained...but the sad thing was John Paul couldn't see it, couldn't accept it. That was his weakness, that he couldn't see himself through Craig's eyes. What he'd done a few weeks ago had hurt, Craig couldn't deny that. It had almost killed him... clawed at all his old insecurities, ripped away at his insides. And yet somehow what really mattered remained intact, secure. He was the only one in Craig's life who had stepped back from the brink of betrayal for the love of him. He'd been at his lowest point and he'd stood at a crossroads and took the road back to where he was.

But the fall out was still haunting them. John Paul had wanted to give up his job, his music, thinking Craig would always doubt his time spent at the club, knowing what he had allowed to happen there. When Craig had refused to let that happen he'd become obsessed with Craig going with him every night he worked, not wanting him to think he was flirting with other men, not wanting there to be any doubt between them. He couldn't see the pressure he was putting on them both. And when Craig refused again, he saw it as confirmation of the destruction he'd caused. He didn't get that his refusal was for the opposite reason. Craig just didn't know how to convince him, that by staying away he was telling him something he needed to know...but fuck at times he was more obtuse than Craig was. To go into that club every night, to sit watching him...would be damaging to them both.

So instead they both circled round the issue, both unhappy.

God what he wouldn't give for just one night when they could let go of the baggage they carried, just one night when they weren't forever weighed down with endless problems. His shoulders slumped slightly. There was a lot to be said sometimes for having no history. Bringing his hand up he massaged the back of his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles. No history...some bloody hope! Suddenly a slow smile settled on his lips, widening to a grin as possibilities swamped him. Maybe there was another way after all.

John Paul was brought out of his pensive mood as a body pressed into his side, forced close by the lack of space behind the decks. Looking over he couldn't help but respond to the grinning face of Matt, a young student who helped out behind the bar on the weekend. His smile was a bit addictive and despite his melancholy John Paul found himself grinning back as a beer was passed over to him.

"Hey, thanks..." Because of the noise he had to lean towards Matt's ear to make himself heard. "What did I do to deserve this, management don't usually look after me this well?" His head dipped even further to catch the reply.

"Damn right...compliments of the guy at the bar." Seeing John Paul's eyes widen, Matt jokingly patted his chest. "Might be your lucky night, mate."

Hardly aware of Matt anymore, his eyes swept the bar and when he saw who the drink was from his world stilled. Unable to look away he gave a sickly half smile of thanks to the boy who stood next to him, only now noticing how close they were to each other. Stepping back into his own space, wanting to put distance between them he waited for Matt to leave. Taking a deep breath, he nervously ran his fingers over his chest, where the memory of Matt's touch seemed to burn a brand on the bare skin. Fuck. His eyes were still locked with those of the man who leaned casually against the bar. The lack of any acknowledgement or any real recognition in his eyes made John Paul nervous, especially when he saw the deliberate way he was looking at his open shirt that displayed the taut muscles beneath. The eyes travelled over him as if he were slowly stripping the remaining material away from the rest of his body. This perusal had no warmth, there was a detachment to it and John Paul cursed the fact that somewhere deep inside he was responding to it.

Automatically, he lifted the bottle of beer, suddenly needing something to steady his shaking limbs. Swallowing down the ice cold liquid, he almost choked as he noticed the raised eyebrows that met his actions, before a matching bottle was slowly lifted in his direction in a mocking salute. Then knowing he had John Paul's full attention the bottle was lifted further, lips sliding slowly, suggestively over its rim. Shit. Almost John Paul missed the feed into the next track. Cursing he dragged his concentration back to the music but all the while he was aware of eyes burning into him. He could feel himself growing hard.

Finally, his shift came to an end. Slightly wary, he made his way through the swell of bodies, knowing he was still being watched. God he couldn't believe how nervous he felt. He could still see in his mind how close Matt had stood to him, how he had leaned into him, how his hand had seemed to caress his chest...how something totally innocent could look so fucking incriminating. Not able to put it off any longer he reached the bar, to stand next to the man who had him so unsettled. As he went to speak a finger was lifted and placed against his lips, effectively cutting off his words.

"Shhhhh." John Paul could only stare into eyes that coolly gave him nothing. He swallowed hard trying to make sense of what was happening. "Here, I thought you looked like you might need another."

A fresh beer was slid over to him. As he reached for it he couldn't help but notice the cool way his body was being looked over. Fighting the heat that was flooding his face, he desperately took a hard gulp of lager, only to almost spit it out as a hand reached out to cup his balls. Wildly his eyes swept around, praying no-one was looking.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hating the panic that he could hear in his voice he tried to push the invading hand away.

"What's the matter scared your boyfriend might get jealous?"

Shock coursed through John Paul's body. "My...my boyfriend?"

"You do have one right? I mean someone as cute as you sure as hell can't be single? The predatory way he was being appraised had John Paul blushing. "Must be pretty trusting to let you out alone looking like that?" For a split second there was a blaze of heat in the eyes that slammed into his own before lids half lowered to hide their emotion again. "By the way if no-one's ever told you before you look fucking hot up there doing your stuff." This time, the hand that gripped him went straight to his ass, making John Paul yelp. "But wherever he is, his loss is my gain."

These last words were whispered so close to John Paul's ear he could feel the softness of the breath that accompanied them brush against his skin. He was drowning and he had no idea where safety was. He desperately tried to gather his scattered thoughts, to make sense of what the fuck was going on. He took a determined breath and opened his mouth.

The sharp nip to his ear lobe and the husky "So, what do you say...your place or mine?" had him closing it again as the question floored him. Even worse was what the tongue dipping seductively in and out of his ear was doing to him. He felt his whole body shudder and he groaned in mortification at the soft chuckle that vibrated against his neck. "You coming?"

Almost groaning at the not so innocent question, John Paul looked down between himself and the bar, knowing damn well what he was going to see. His groin ached as his erection strained against the front of his jeans, totally obvious. The fact that his arse was still being possessively caressed wasn't helping. His brain was trying helplessly to catch up with what was happening here but his cock was talking louder leaving him feeling weak and confused. "I can't go...I..." He looked up and nearly died at the taunting amusement that sat on the face in front of him, a face he felt he hardly knew. He was fucking loving the state he had him in.

"You better stay close behind me then as we leave, unless you want that pretty cock of yours on display for everyone to see."

John Paul's gasp was more seen than heard as he was unceremoniously tugged away from the bar and through the milling crowd to the entrance of the club.

"You bastard."

"So you keep telling me...faggot."

And suddenly confused or not John Paul smiled. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Right now I have no bloody idea," the look that was thrown his way made John Paul's legs turn to jelly as he was reeled in, so that the next words were for him alone, "but we're sure as hell going to have fun finding out."