Chapter Text
The next time they meet is in the junk food aisle of the local supermarket. God thinks himself a comedian, Jules thinks bitterly. He’d revert to referring to the higher power, as his grandmother would, whenever something like this happened that he felt was meant to be a movie scene. And the moment he saw those harsh blue eyes against the bright colours of the potato chip packets, he felt like he was on the set of Moonlight.
“Oi, don’t even think of running,” Preston says quietly the moment he catches his eye, sending an icy chill down Jules’s spine. Preston turns to him. He’s bigger. Oh God, he’s bulked up. Jules pictures the sort of workouts Preston would have gotten up to. He pictures Preston’s face screwed up, over exerted over hate for him.
“Now, this ain’t a threat, this is me informing you. You move and I put my hands on you,” Preston says. “The video.”
“Um…” Jules’s head is throbbing. “Sorry, I need a moment.”
“Delete it.”
It might be a reasonable demand but Jules feels forbiddingly sick at the thought.
“Can we talk about it?”
Preston’s eyes turn ghoulish. “What is there to talk about?” he says, voice light and half-whispering. His neck cranes, making his head float. It makes Jules’s blood turn cold.
Jules slowly, awkwardly squats to put his basket on the ground in the most queer way possible and looks at it. Then he walks towards the exit.
Outside, they loiter around the back next to the loading bay where pallets are stacked up and a truck is parked. Jules pulls up the video but stares at it. He still remembers the feeling. His body remembers.
“Can I send it to you?” Jules asks.
“Now, what the fuck do you mean by that?” Preston says with an empty chuckle.
“Just—Can I?”
When Preston doesn’t answer, Jules sends it. Preston’s jaw clenches at the notification and he turns to leave.
“Wait,” Jules says breathlessly. Preston looks back at him.
“Is this… it?”
Preston stares at him. “Maybe.”
“I don’t want it to be.”
Preston pauses. He turns to face Jules. Jules notices his fingers by his jeans fidgeting. He takes a ginger step forwards.
“And I thought… you might not either?”
Preston looks down. Jules puts out a hand headed for Preston’s own. Preston grabs it at the wrist and squeezes. Jules swallows. They stare at each other, Preston’s eyes a bit too wide for Jules’s comfort. The hand is possessive and not at all gentle. Preston pulls Jules towards him slightly and Jules gives in easily.
“Fine,” Preston says. He walks them to his uncle’s BMW.
On the ride to, Jules can’t help put watch Preston. When they pull up, Preston points a finger. “Leave your phone in the car.”
Jules glances at him and sets the phone down.
Preston leaves the apartment quiet, void of rap this time. He glances back at Jules from the shadows. In the bedroom, Jules is backed up to the bed and falls back. Preston is over him, straddling him.
“You’re sick in the head, I think,” Preston says, leaning forward, putting his hands on Jules’s shoulders. He puts a suffocating amount of weight on, to the point where Jules starts to hyperventilate. Preston’s hands move to his neck.
“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” he says and Preston puts a hand over his mouth, making him squeal in shock.
“What did you think I wanted to do?”
Jules can only breathe heavily. He’s trying to keep himself from freaking out underneath Preston’s hands. This is going to feel like their first time, as in, feel a bit like rape. “Okay, okay.” He straightens his back. “Give it to me.” His breath catches in his throat as Preston’s hands wrap around his neck and start to squeeze.