Kim1982: Thank you so much, that means a lot! And it's gonna get eventful.
shannie83: Good, because this chapter's even longer. I liked writing Jocelyn's past, I have to say! It was interesting. That could possibly be seen as a spoiler... Well, continue reading and you'll find out. I'm sure many people feel the same. Thank you, hope you like it!
lindsayhonaker: I'm glad! He's a very bad man indeed. Well, the wait is over.
Madisontheresa: You're welcome! I'm glad you are still reading, I just worry that others aren't, you know? But I'm not going to be one of those people who refuse to update if they don't get a certain amount of reviews.
There are references to gay slang in this chapter (ie. "bear", "cub", "twink") so I thought I'd explain them for everyone. Also, none of them are meant as slurs. A twink is a gay male who's young (about 18-23), hairless and skinny. Basically just think of the gay stereotype that the majority of hetero people have. A bear is a bi/gay male who is rugged, seen as masculine, large and often hairy. A cub is like a bear only a smaller version.
Also, whilst we're on the subject of sexuality, someone said I was heterophobic the other day, how hilarious is that?!
Him? They couldn't possibly mean... No. No, Jocelyn told herself resolutely, of course they don't mean Luke. Part of Jocelyn's brain told her that there was no chance on earth that they meant Luke. That her Luke was in the cell next to hers, with only a crumbling brick wall between them. There was no way, because she knew that Valentine would have killed him. She may not have seen it happen nor had she any proof that it did happen. However, another part of her brain - and heart - disagreed. Who else could they be talking about? They said that he's been there five or six years, and Valentine had taken Luke six years ago. Jocelyn felt sick at a sudden thought: if it was Luke, then Valentine had been torturing him every day for the past six years. The worst part is being that Jocelyn had no doubt in her mind that the sick bastard wouldn't even hesitate to put Luke through hell.
The groans from the adjacent cell had ceased by now. Jocelyn felt an irrational sliver of fear creep into her; she was scared that they had finally killed the man who was potentially Luke, even though - logically - Valentine wouldn't keep him alive for six years only to kill him when he had the perfect opportunity to harm Luke and his traitorous wife, just by reuniting them. A simple move in a game of human chess. They were just pawns in Valentine's game. Maybe that's all anyone was in Valentine's world. Puppets he could man-handle into whichever positions he desired, making them do whatever he wanted. He showed no mercy. He did it with his children and with his wife. He turned them into toys that he controlled by command. It made her sick.
By now, Jocelyn had come to terms with loving Valentine. She loved him, but a different him. She fell in love with a man that was kind, and funny, and caring. She fell in love with a man that, in reality, didn't exist. The man she fell in love with was a character Valentine had made up to lure her in and ambush her with his true nature, like a Venus flytrap.
Once upon a time she'd wonder whether he'd gradually turned into this monster over time and that's why she didn't see what he truly was like. She dismissed that theory after some thinking; someone that controlling, manipulative, cunning must have been like that their entire life. Jocelyn imagined the kind Valentine that she dated and pictured him returning to his home after their dates; only to plan their future together and how he'd control every aspect. It made her feel even more guilty than ever before, knowing that if he had done that back then then she had a slight chance of finding out and stopping him. Although, if they were never together then they would never have had the children, and they mean more to her than they realised.
Something tapped on the bars of Jocelyn's cell - metal on metal - causing her to jolt which triggered a pain radiating throughout her body. The person, she realised belatedly, had managed to walk up to her cell without her realising. She was either very deep in thought , or close to losing consciousness again. The tapping happened again, accompanied by a sigh this time. Jocelyn realised the wisest thing would be to look, so she did.
Stood at the bars was a man in an immaculate suit - another one of Valentine's men - looking expectant and holding a bag, knocking his keys against the steel bars. He reminded Jocelyn of a weasel: tall, skinny and undoubtedly sly. He held his nose high in the air as though Jocelyn should be grateful for his presence. As much as it annoyed her, she had to admit that he carried a controlled air with him. He'd be able to command attention just by being there. And she knew that within a few seconds of seeing him.
"Oh good. You're alive." He unlocked the cell and stepped inside, shutting and locking it behind him. "Valentine will be pleased. Although," He paused in front of her face. "You are looking a bit worse for wear."
He crouched down in front of her face, pulling up his trousers slightly as he did so, and looked her over, appraisingly. Reaching out, he stepped over her body - one foot on either side of her - and lifted her under her arms, not caring about the pain it caused. He sat her against the wall and her head bobbed forward slightly with exhaustion. He made a tutting sound as he stepped back, and Jocelyn imagined he was shaking his head.
A styrofoam bowl filled with a pungent brown liquid appeared under her nose making her drowsily turn her head to the side. Another tutting sound was made by The Weasel, making Jocelyn feel like a child. Like a toddler who refused to eat even when their parent did the aeroplane. It made Jocelyn feel uncomfortable.
"You need to eat and rest. Valentine doesn't want you to die. Not yet anyway. And definitely not from the first beating, he knows you can withstand more than that." His tone was almost caring. However, Jocelyn knew that the only possible thing he could care about at that moment was losing his job and probably his life alongside it.
She managed to lift her head to look at him, and he smiled at her. It looked like he was trying not to make it look cruel but had trouble making it look kind so he settled for in between. His teeth showed slightly and they looked sharp like tiny daggers, though Jocelyn surmised she may have been hallucinating from the pain. She faintly recalled hearing once that if you're close to death you see things. She felt like death so it made sense to be close to it.
She made herself seem as tall as possible and leaning right into his face, she steeled herself to speak. "No." She spat. Then she slumped back onto the wall, which was as lifeless as she felt after that surge of energy.
The Weasel's face dropped. "No?" He asked, primly. "Valentine will be unimpressed. He said you could be a handful but he didn't tell me how tedious you'd be."
He huffed and stood, looking at her contemplatively. After a few seconds he shrugged. "Ah well. I did warn you. Gave you a chance."
At first Jocelyn thought he'd just leave and report back to Valentine, so that he'd hit her twice as hard next time. What killed that thought was when he pulled a leather glove onto his slimy hand. He buttoned it at the wrist, a looked on nonchalance on his face throughout the entire action - one which Jocelyn did not know whether it was feigned or not. Either way, she didn't like the ugly feeling it stirred up inside her. He stepped closer to her. Then, he silently lifted her chin with his un-gloved hand. He stared at her with a solemn, reprimanding look on his face for a second then back-handed her, his tough glove combined with the force and her weakness sending her to the floor.
He loomed over her. Jocelyn could see her reflection in his polished shoes, he was that close. "This is what happens when you disobey, dear. Now, are you going to eat?"
Jocelyn couldn't bring herself to give him the satisfaction and spat blood and saliva onto his no-longer-shiny shoes. She looked up to see a darkness cloud his eyes, but couldn't really care since she knew it wouldn't take long before she was unconcious again.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The pounding thrum of the loud dance music reverberated throughout the nightclub. Men dancing and sweating to the beat, hips swinging and grinding, mouths exhaling and inhaling eachothers breaths, eyes sending unspoken messages across the room to others. Colourful strobe lights struck out across the dimly lit club, flickering quickly in syncronization with the fast song. Some had hands grabbing body parts: hips as the bodies writhed, hair as mouths clashed, shoulders blades as they pulled closer.
Somewhere on the dancefloor a young man was dancing alone. There were several actually but this one had white-blonde hair - messy due to his own hands running through it, strands hanging in his eyes - and wore clothing that contrasted the white. His strong legs were clad in black leather and he wore a barely-there net tank top of the same colour, the diamond shape gaps being so large that it was easy to see the silver piercing in his left nipple. Other jewellery included two solid silver earrings in each earlobe (one being a small hoop, the other being a stud), a silver hoop at the top of his ear, and a black hoop in his nose. His face was upturned towards the ceiling, his eyes were closed, and his hips were swinging without a care in the world.
The only hands that touched him were his own; one sneaking up his abs whilst the other slid down his muscular thigh. Men were dancing near him with the occasional brush against him but no one danced with him. Even though no one knew him, he had an aura about him. No one dared touch the untouchable. The small gaggle of spectators around him did nothing to hide that they were watching - they were watching and he knew it - as they kept one eye on him and one to themselves. Meanwhile, he was all himself. He knew he was getting attention and he was lapping it up. It gave him a buzz. Even more energy than he already had, pumping it into him so he had fuel to carry on dancing.
For the first time that night, hands wrapped around each hip and a body stepped up with them. The man - Jonathan - was finally being approached, as he had wanted. A warm body pressed against his own from behind, a face tucking into the crook of his neck making the blonde boy bite back a whimper as stubble brushed against him. The stranger took advantage of their closeness by slipping his right hand under the flimsy vest top Jonathan wore. Jonathan wasn't able to bite back a moan as nimble fingers found his nipple piercing, and he felt the stranger smirk against his neck. Not one to be outdone, Jonathan circled his hips backwards into the mans pelvis. Hearing the man's breath hitch, he smirked. He smirked until hips began to meet his. His tight trousers allowing the stranger's arousal to be felt well.
"Xavier." The man breathed into Jonathan's ear but did not stop grinding. "My name. I don't usually give it out in clubs but, fuck, I need to hear it from your pretty mouth."
Jonathan reached an arm around to the back of Xavier's head and hummed when he found that it was long, just below his jaw. He grabbed a handful of it and turned his head towards Xavier's face. His lips pressed to a rough, unshaven jawline in a barely-there kiss so that the taller man felt his lips move when Jonathan spoke his own name in a gravelly voice.
Xavier exhaled, visibly as affected as Jonathan, and turned his head slowly so that the white-haired man's lips dragged across his cheek and finally met his own but only slightly. So slightly, in fact, that their lips were just resting atop of the other man's. There was a pause before Xavier spun Jonathan around so they were chest-to-chest, lips still just resting against the other's. This gave Jonathan his first proper look at the long-haired man.
His hair was dark, not black but a dark brown instead, and his eyes were a sharp, fresh green. In looks he was rather different to Jonathan's white hair and near-black eyes (which, just like Xavier's hair, were actually a very, very dark brown). Similar to Jonathan's was his sharp jawline - although Xavier's was dusted in a two day old stubble, which pleased Jonathan immensely - and his sharp cheekbones, though the dark-haired man's weren't as prominent as his. Through the tight, white t-shirt Xavier was wearing, Jonathan could tell he worked out but not so much that he was overly muscular. Absently, Jonathan licked his lips at the thought of what was under that shirt, which Xavier saw causing his pupils to dilate.
An arm wound around Jonathan's waist, a hand reached up to cup his cheek and then they were kissing. Hungrily. Desperately. Jonathan's hands were tugging on long hair, and he moaned unrestrained into Xavier's mouth when he slotted a leg in between Jonathan's thighs. He didn't hold back and rotated his hips harder than he had done earlier whilst they were dancing.
To even things out, Jonathan dominated the kiss. He took Xavier's bottom lip between his and sucked, occasionally flicking out a tongue to soothe when he began nibbling. Predictably, it sent the other man crazy; his arm tightened around Jonathan's waist and he was moaning obscenely.
If either man had bothered to look around they would have seen that the men around them were still watching the duo, only now some were gaping at the scene in front of them. It wasn't as if they had never seen two guys making out on a dancefloor before - it happened more often than not - but to see two guys that attractive practically having sex there on the floor was not a regular occurance.
Eventually, Xavier noticed the few people that had stopped to shamelessly gawp and pulled his lips from Jonathan's.
"I'm thinking that we should escape the attention of the vultures before we're invited by a bear to join some orgy in a bathroom stall." Xavier smirked before kissing Jonathan again. "Maybe you'd like that. You're a bit like a twink."
"Well," Jonathan pulled away to say before kissing him again. "You're kind of like a cub." He chuckled.
Xavier moved so that his leg came into contact with Jonathan's throbbing hardness, ceasing all chuckling. "But cubs and bears don't shave their bodies," He brushed his lips against Jonathan's ear. "And I do. Everywhere."
The grip on Xavier's hair tightened causing him to buck his hips into Jonathan's. "I need to see that."
Xavier's reply came in the form of letting Jonathan go, save for his hand to drag him outside. Once outside, Xavier threw his arm up to hail a taxi only to have it knocked down by the hand of the handsome young man he'd approached in the club. With the plain streetlights now highlighting Jonathan's face instead of the multicoloured strobe lights of the club, Xavier could see just how good looking he was. He could see why the white-haired man had drawn so much attention. Especially when combined with his clothes, seductive dance moves, and - lest he forget - that body. His gaze darted back up to Jonathan's eyes when he realised he was talking.
"... of my cars." Jonathan now had his phone out, typing on it.
"Uh, sorry, what did you say?" This made Jonathan smirk; he knew Xavier had been checking him out.
"I said, 'there's no need for a taxi, I'll just send for one of my cars.'" Jonathan stood at the edge of the curb, phone now in is pocket, looking into the road. Probably for this car he sent for.
Xavier raised an eyebrow. He thought Jonathan had been completely sober, but now he's talking about sending for a car? "What do you mean, 'send for a car'?" A grin slowly grew on Xavier's face as he stepped closer to Jonathan once more. "Do you mean I'm hooking up with a rich guy?"
"Wow, that's shallow." Jonathan stepped closer to Xavier, and yet again, they were sharing breaths.
The other man chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because you're taking me back to your place because of my personality, right?"
Jonathan placed a rough, chaste kiss on Xavier's lips in reply. "No time for small talk." He stepped away. "Tell me. Have you ever been in a car like this?"
He pointed a thumb behind him at a car that was just pulling up. He was looking at Xavier, making him wonder how he got the timing so perfect. Looking past Jonathan, he saw a sleek, black car with tinted windows. He didn't know much about cars, but he could see that it was a Mercedes Benz. Expensive. He looked back at Jonathan, remembered the question, then shook his head.
Jonathan smirked lasciviously. "So it goes without saying that you never had your dick sucked in the back of one either. I'll have to remedy that." He approached the car and opened one of the back doors, gesturing with a sweep of the hand for Xavier to get in. And Xavier did not hesitate.
Just as how Jonathan did not hesitate to start tugging on Xavier's belt once he was the plush seats were under him and the car was moving, presumably towards Jonathan's place.
"Wait! What about your driver?" He asked, more curious than frantic.
"The divider is pulled across; he can't hear or see a thing. Don't worry." Jonathan had his belt undone by now and was kneeling in front of him. The back seats were spacious, meaning Jonathan could kneel with room to spare.
No time was wasted in pulling Xavier's semi-hardness out of his dark jeans and Jonathan raised an eyebrow when he found that the other man had forgone underwear. Xavier shrugged in reply, as if to say 'they're pointless', like he knew this would be happening. Which would be a fair guess considering he gone out purposefully looking for one-night sex.
Ducking his head, Jonathan kissed the tip of Xavier's cock. He pause before placing more kisses down the shaft, then inwardly smirking when a hand grabbed his hair and tightened when he pressed more kisses when going back up towards the head. He had yet to hear any noises from the man above him, so he set about changing that. He was at full hardness now and whimpered when Jonathan swiped a broad lick across the slit of his cock, which was not good enough for Jonathan. Even if he did do it several more times just to hear that whimper again. The first loud noise that came from Xavier was because of Jonathan taking the head in his mouth and licking at it once was fully engulfed.
"Jesus Christ." Xavier's voice was breathy; he didn't even try to hide how affected he was.
Jonathan did that for another minute before taking some of the shaft into his mouth and pulling back up, bobbing his head and sucking. By now, Xavier was incoherent. All that could be heard was moaning and grunting. Guessing that they weren't far from his apartment, Jonathan hurried it along. He took in every inch of the man's cock until he felt him deep in his throat. The feeling of Xavier's fingers tugging his hair hard made Jonathan moan, which Xavier felt throughout his cock. It made him let out his loudest moan yet as he thrusted into Jonathan's mouth once and released down his throat.
Jonathan took him out of his mouth and tucked him into his jeans just as the car stopped. He glanced at the man next to him - who, with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, looked completely blissful - and smirked before opening the car door and climbed out. A silent invitation was left when Jonathan didn't close it behind him.
Happily taking up the invitation, Xavier climbed out behind him and hurriedly followed until the man in front stopped before a door. Jonathan let them into the apartment, not checking if Xavier had followed him in and turned the light on like it was any other night. The first time he acknowledged his presence was when he turned around to face the long-haired man, and held his arms aloft. It was an arrogant gesture that bragged, 'yes, this is my humble abode,' and 'yes, it is very expensive'.
Xavier felt it necessary to comment, although he was a bit stunned; he hardly came from a luxurious, regal background and he hadn't he experienced such wealth first-hand. Currently, he wasn't poor but he wasn't rich either. Definitely not to Jonathan's standard. "Yeah, it's uh... it's nice."
Jonathan shrugged, modestly playing it off as he advanced on the awed man. "The best part is the master bedroom."
Xavier, composure now regained, smirked. "I don't doubt it. So, are you going to give mea guided tour of the master bedroom?"
Without another word he was lead to said master bedroom. It was exactly how 'master bedroom' sounded to Xavier. It had a colour scheme: blacks, whites, and all of the shades of grey in between. A king size bed was in the middle, with only the head touching the wall. It was clearly supposed to be the centre of attention. The bedding was white but the leather frame was black, stark against the wall which matched the colour of the bedding.
"I see you admiring the bed." Jonathan once again approached Xavier calmly. It made Xavier feel like he was the smaller man's prey, which rarely happened. It especially didn't happen when Xavier was the one to make the first move like he did with Jonathan did in the club. It was different. A challenge. And Xavier loved a challenge.
PLEASE READ THE A/N BELOW BECAUSE I NEED OPINIONS
Okay, so I was going to write more BUTTTTT I start my first year of college on Monday and tomorrow I have my "Welcome Day" thing and because I didn't (read: LITERALLY COULD NOT) go to some visit day in July, I will have tons of work to complete for Monday which is fucking bullshit. Anyway, I need opinions on two things. ~ I NEED TO KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE THE ACTUAL SEX SCENE BETWEEN XAVIER AND JONATHAN SO PLEASE REVIEW WITH YOUR OPINION. AND PLEASE COMMENT WHETHER YOU WANT XAVIER AND JONATHAN TO BE A ONE NIGHT THING OR ACTUALLY BECOME A COUPLE. ~ Also, just so you know, Jonathan is bi.