PART I of II

Justin POV

I had no clear memory of the assault.

The first thing that registered when I woke up the morning after was that I had no idea where I was. This thought was immediately followed by the equally distressing realization that even if I had known, I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there. 

I thought it would help if I pried my eyes open, but the vaguely familiar surroundings seemed to drift and blur into one another and I couldn’t place them properly. My mind and memory seemed to be divided incomprehensibly into a kaleidoscope of thoughts and images and feelings.

All I knew for certain was that something monstrous had happened to me. Something debasing and inhuman. The knowledge burned destructively inside me and I was terrified because I couldn’t remember what was fuelling it. 

Reality seemed to ooze its way into my consciousness through some kind of semi-permeable barrier and I grew frantic, trying desperately to piece together what I could remember of the evening before and the night that followed.

Brian had been frustrated with me because he’d tried again, and failed again, to offer me financial assistance for school. He’d called me an impossibly stubborn twink, and had told me not to go crying to him when I had to drop out for sheer fucking exhaustion. 

To mollify him, I’d suggestively modelled the new very tight, very short, very shiny hot pants that I’d just put on for work that night. After bestowing a particularly enthusiastic, wriggly lap dance on him, Brian had let the matter drop (along with his pants).

We must have gone to Babylon together, because I remember Brian swatting my ass and calling me ‘his dirty little boy’ just before I left to start my 9pm shift, wearing my shiny new shorts. 

I remember looking for him during my first break, but when a sweeping scan of the dance floor yielded no sign of Brian, I’d stood by the bar and counted the tips I’d made instead. I guess that was about 11:30.

It must have been then that I was slipped the rophie. 

I can’t remember what it was I’d been drinking at the bar, but I knew it had come in a wide-mouthed glass. It must have been slipped into that when my eyes were on the money, because everything from that point on seemed to disappear in a black hole of broken memories, confused thoughts and swirling black and grey images.

And that blinding terror.

~~~

The Night Previous

Brian’s POV

Had I not glanced in that particular direction at that precise second, I wouldn’t have seen it, and God knows what would have happened then. 

I had no dilutions about the fact that Justin would have been raped had I not intervened, but I couldn’t stand to think that anything could have been done to him, and he would have been powerless to stop it.

I’d just come out of the back room, having cut a mediocre blow job short in order to find another trick who could do a better job of it. Hell, I knew I could have my pick, so why should I stand for anything but excellence?

I don’t know what made me look over towards the shadows of an alleyway exit at the opposite end of the dance floor. It was a fire exit and was meant to be alarmed, so now one ever used it. The action was always in the back alley on the other side of the club which, in summer, served as a second Back Room. But still, I wondered afterwards why no one else had seen it happen.

The disused fire exit was under a sort of arch way, casting everything around it in shadow. But when a movement caught my eye, I could just make out two shadowy figures, their shapes amalgamating and then drawing apart again, pushing this door open and stumbling out of it. 

The blood froze in my veins when I registered what I was actually seeing.

Justin- I knew it was him from his ghostly pale skin and skinny figure- was being dragged through that door by a bulky figure dressed all in black leather. That image was branded with a white hot precision into my memory; those eager rough, rude hands on the delicate exposed skin of Justin’s chest and midriff, scratching, pinching, ravaging and pillaging. The thought of it still makes me shudder.

As if in slow motion, I watched Justin struggle feebly against the arms wrapped roughly across his chest, trying in vain to dig his heels into the ground, trying to cringe away from the groping hands.

I could just about make out his horrified face, his lips moving in a yell, a scream, but there was no sound over the thump of the music and drone of voices. The man in leather grabbed a fistful of Justin’s hair and wrenched his head back so hard it could have given him whiplash. And then, suddenly, the two of them disappeared through the door and into the night.

It was like one of those nightmares where you’re running as fast as you can but you just stay in the same spot, as if you were sprinting on ice. I was sure I was moving faster than I ever had in my life, but it seemed as if every one of my steps took an eternity. 

I bulldozed my way straight through the dance floor, shoving people out of my way with enough force to send them crashing to the floor. Indignant yells and curses must have followed me, but I didn’t hear them over the roaring in my ears. I hit the alleyway door at a run and it crashed open so hard it rebounded off the adjacent wall with a resounding metallic clang.

They were just outside the door in the shadows of the abandoned alley. Justin’s assailant was a sick, sad fucker; a weedy middle-aged man with greying hair, beady eyes, and with an ugly shrewd face like a rat. He had Justin pinned against the wall, a knee pressed up and rubbing against Justin’s crotch, his hands groping Justin’s ass, his mouth slobbering at Justin’s resistant lips. 

The fucker froze a fraction of a second after I erupted onto the scene, but Justin kept fighting. He started screaming and sobbing wildly, but his movements seemed weak and sluggish and I knew he’d been drugged. 

A coursing, powerful anger that I had never known before or since came roaring through me like a towering inferno. 

It scares me now to think of the crystal clear thought, the single conscious monolith that ran through my mind just then; kill him. I wanted to kill that sad, demented little fucker. I wanted to see him dead. At that second, I knew I had been fully capable of murder. 

The emotion was so strong it separated my mind from my body, and I seemed to watch myself from somewhere outside myself. I saw my hand seize the attacker by the throat and throw him bodily, with some kind of superhuman strength, against the opposite wall. He hit it was a resounding thud and scrambled to his feet, taking off in a limping sprint.

I made a move to go after him- I could have easily caught him and pounded the shit out of him- but I felt my arm seized firmly from behind. I wheeled around to tell whoever it was to get their fucking hands off me, but I recognized the face. 

It was Rocky, one of the bouncers, who had obviously deduced from my rampage across the dance floor that something was very wrong, and followed me out the door. He hadn’t been alone; the alleyway was suddenly filling with dozens of curious onlookers.

“I’ll get him,” Rocky assured me in his booming voice, as I fought to get a grip on myself. “Go see to your boy.”

Rocky took off in pursuit of the assailant and I stood motionless for about three seconds, fighting to get oxygen into my starving lungs, feeling the inferno ebb and recede slightly. The sound of Justin’s chocking sobs brought me back to reality, and I swung around to take Rocky’s advice to heart.

Justin was lying on ground, curled up in the fetal position. The onlookers were staring and bending over him, asking him if he was alright, if he was hurt. Someone had taken off their jacket and draped it over his shoulders; a good call as it was October and Justin was clad only in his very short shorts.

I shoved my way through to him and knelt by his side, facing him. I put a hand on Justin’s hip, and he let out a strangled scream and tried to twist away. He struggled weakly as I pulled him up onto his knees and I held his face firmly in both hands, my thumbs on his cheekbones, staring hard into his eyes.

“Justin, look at me,” I commanded, and he went still and silent abruptly, his unfocused eyes finding mine. “It’s Brian. I’m here, you’re safe now. It’s over.”

“Br-rian.” Justin reached out and clutched at me, and I drew him to me to hold him tightly against my chest, feeling him shaking violently as he began to babble incoherently. “Can’t move right…feel so weak…he was going to…going to…couldn’t stop him…”

“I know, Sunshine, I know.” I assured him, picking him up in my arms, wrapping the proffered jacket more tightly around him. “It’s over now, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I took him inside, followed by the dozens of on-lookers, and was stopped almost immediately by a white-faced Sap. The fucker looked acutely uneasy, knowing full well that an attempted rape of one of his employees on his watch didn’t bode well for his business, not to mention his sketchy relationship with the law. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with him?” the Sap asked, staring at Justin’s prone body. “He was fine half an hour ago.”

“He got rophied, you fucker, whadda you think?” I snarled back. “Aren’t you support to fucking protect your goddamn employees against this kind of thing?...Don’t fucking touch him!”

“OK, alright,” Sap said retreating, snatching his hand back from reaching out to touch Justin’s shoulder. “Look, Kinney…can we keep this, you know, under wraps? I mean, you love Babylon, right? And so does Justin. You’d hate to see it shut down for such a trivial thing…”

“Get out of my fucking way.” I breathed dangerously. He was fucking lucky my arms were full of Justin, or I swear I would have slugged him. “I don’t make those kinds of sacrifices for people I care about. This time you’re on your own, Sap. Better make it good.”

I slid Justin’s feet to the floor and held him upright with an arm around his waist, turning his face into my shoulder. I took out my cell phone and, so the Sap could see what I was doing, dialled 911. The Sap glared at me with a mixture of fear and hatred as I began to speak.

“The police…Yeah, I want to report an assault…”

This time, I was going to make damn sure Justin got the justice he deserved.

~~~

Three Hours Later

I pulled the duvet and sheets back off the bed and laid Justin’s limp body down on it, moving down to his feet to pull his shoes off. He was still fully dressed, but after what he’d been through, undressing him while he was asleep didn’t seem like a good idea. Instead, I pulled the bed clothes over him and, hesitating a moment, bent to kiss his forehead.

I didn’t know how much rohipnol he’d ingested, but it was enough to induce this heavy, comatose sleep. Not enough to cause permanent damage…at least physically. The police had told me that when they explained they wanted a blood sample to prove Justin had been drugged. They also wanted a statement from Justin, about whatever he could remember. I wondered what he’d say when he learned I’d signed him up for a session in remembering what I’m sure he’d rather forget.

Tomorrow was going to be fucking nightmare.

I sat down heavily on the bed beside him. I wanted to curl up with Justin on the bed and hold him but I was worried about him waking up and not knowing or realizing the arms around him were mine. So, knowing I wouldn’t sleep myself, I just stared down at him, touching his face with my fingertips and trying not to think what might have happened to him had I not been there.

He had learnt the lesson that had featured so much in my life…only he had leant it the hard way. Being desired and being wanted was not always such a good thing, because not everyone played by the rules.

There was an ugly side of being beautiful.

~~~

END PART I