dreamlikenewyork | "Just give me a reason."

Who: Lincoln Cole and Clint Chevalier
What: Complications
Where: Clint's apartment
When: After THIS

With the hangover Lincoln had, he had been steering clear of Clint's bedroom. Clint was still asleep and he didn't want to disturb him. He was feeling rotten, and the headache he was suffering with wasn't all isolated to the hangover. Then Clint was awake, and there was the Facebook thing. There was just no way to avoid telling Clint what happened at the after party thing that went down at a nightclub. He got a black eye out of it and the side of his face was a bit messed up. He fought back before anything happened and a couple of his other model friends intercepted before anything bad happened. But still, he was feeling the after-effects of the near-miss.

He had been sitting on the floor of the bathroom with his back against the bath tub when he was talking to Clint on Facebook, replying with one hand while he held an ice pack to his eye with the other. He was in his underwear and nothing else, and it took a bit of navigation to get up off the floor. He was a little woozy and a bit of a dizzy spell had him grabbing the edge of the bath so he could wait it out before heading through to the bedroom.

He went to over to the bed and sat on the edge of it beside where Clint was lying. His back was to Clint and he reached over to put the half-melted ice pack onto the nightstand. Clint's apartment had always been nice. Quite modern and trendy. It was a decent size too, but they were on the hunt for a place together now. They had some appointments to go see some places early next week. He didn't say anything. He didn't really know what to say, if he was honest with himself.

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Clint's mouth dropped open a little when Lincoln walked in with the black eye, looking hungover and shaky. He didn't say anything, which was basically near impossible for him. All he did was push the covers back and shift in the bed to sit up behind Lincoln, long legs on either side of his hips. He wrapped his arms around Lincoln, chin resting on his shoulder and just held him. Anger would've been the easy bit, and you could be sure as shit that if he found out who it was that did this to Lincoln, they would be dead. But now, Lincoln didn't need him mounting his aggressive high horse and going off on a tangent making threats and completely overshadowing the fact that Lincoln had just been through something that shook him. Shook him into talking in ways Clint had never really heard him before. But then, recently, Lincoln had been transitioning to something different. He wanted more than a fuck buddy, and he had been honest about that.

Clint pressed his lips to Lincoln's temple in a soft kiss and then reached over to pick up the ice pack. One arm still circled around Lincoln's waist in the embrace, he carefully compressed the ice to the bruising at the worst part of Lincoln's face. "Are you in pain, babe? Do you feel sick?" he asked. He had been punched enough times in his life by people he had riled up to know what a concussion felt like. A concussion with a hangover? Nasty business.

Lincoln gave the slightest of nods and replied with a nondescript, "Mm." His hands had come to rest on Clint's arm wrapped around him, though. It felt nice to be held when he was feeling... well, he didn't really know what he was feeling. He was pretty sure he would figure that out better when he wasn't so hungover. Things usually seemed a whole lot worse when you were hungover, though it had all been a pretty shit experience. Either he had never been directly treated like he had been last night, or he hadn't had an issue with it before he decided to bite the bullet and want something official with Clint. It was a bit hazy, and giving him a bigger headache trying to figure it out.

He sighed. Clint was really trying here, but Lincoln knew him. He knew this would be hard work. It would be hard work to not storm out and beat the living shit out of the guy who did this. "I don't know who it was. I hadn't seen him before. He was just a faceless fuck who attached himself to the VIP party. A lot of people were trashed, there was a lot of hard booze. As soon as it started happening and it got rough, a couple of friends intercepted and helped me. I'll be fucking fine. I'm always fucking fine. After everything lately, my head's just all over the fucking place."

When they had spoken on Facebook, Lincoln had told Clint he wasn't going to tell him who it was. But Lincoln also knew that Clint could find someone just on description alone, and quickly. He knew Lincoln wasn't lying to hold him off here. The wild VIP parties weren't at all new. Lincoln had attended a lot of them since he became a hot-property model in the fiery fashion world. They had both always partied hard, and they both loved sex. They had both been promiscuous. But that didn't, at fucking all, justify why someone had accosted Lincoln and tried to rough him up and force sex on him. Sex wasn't a fucking free-for-all. It still needed reciprocal consent, and there wasn't any of that here. It pissed Clint off royally, but he knew now Lincoln needed him to be a lover, not a fucking guard dog.

"If you want us to be exclusive, we fucking will. Take a leaf outta Renz and Lew's book. We can fuck other people, but only if we're in a three-way or more together. I don't need a pile of faceless fucks. You're the best fuck I've ever had anyway, and you're the only one I care about. If this helps you deal with this, then we'll do it. No questions asked," he promised, carefully taking the ice pack away from Lincoln's face so he could study some of the damage. "Did he fucking hit you to incapacitate you, or did this happen because you fought him off?"

Lincoln looked at Clint with a small frown, if only because he never expected these sorts of words to come out of his mouth. If he wasn't feeling so low right now, he probably would have laughed it off and threw some sarcastic and mocking remark back at Clint. "Do you seriously mean that?" he asked quietly instead, maybe proving right here and now that he and Clint really could have a serious heart-to-heart without mocking or sex references involved. That had really been what their relationship before now had been based on, because neither of them really viewed it as anything ultra-serious. They were just having fun. Then Lincoln went and fell in love with Clint, and that when everything started to get complicated in his head and heart. It was when he didn't have his twin sister to lean on when he had most needed her too. If everything had been normal, he would have gone to Emily to talk it all out with her, but this time, he hadn't felt like he could talk to her at all.

He turned his head away again and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Both. He tried to force me, telling me I was a whore who wanted it bad. So, I fought him off and decked him, he got back up and got a right hook in. That's when my friends intercepted. Nothing happened beyond rough groping and he tried to get his fingers in my ass. That's as far as it got before I got him off me. It's just left me feeling like shit, because in a slut-shaming mindset, I deserved this."

"Yeah. I do," Clint replied without hesitation. He knew he had a reputation for being the dirty whore that he really was. Shamelessly so. He loved sex and he wasn't afraid to enjoy as much of it as he fucking pleased. He and Lincoln connected over sex, but there was no point denying anymore that there was more to this than sex. The sex was awesome, but having Lincoln with him in a relationship was the more important thing in this equation. "I'm not going to say some bullshit like people can change. I don't want to change, and I know you don't fucking need me to. This isn't changing, this is just inevitable. It was always going to fucking be inevitable with you, babe. I need you to fucking know that, okay? If you want or need us to be exclusive, we will be."

He carefully coaxed Lincoln to look at him again. "Don't be ashamed. This is not you, it's that fucking cunt. You're amazing, and I'm not going to let anyone fucking shame you for being you. You didn't fucking deserve this and you didn't fucking ask for it. Your ass it not a permanently open welcome mat for any fucker to slide their cock in and go for gold. Fuck that shit. I want you to tell me who he is and I'll shove him exactly what sort of small spaces his dick is more than welcome to be shoved painfully into."

"Just give me a reason."

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