Wavering Faith (John x Garcia)

Chapter 6: Old Flame, Fresh Wounds

(((This chapter features a trans man (Father Garcia) being intimate with his partner. His bottom growth is referred to as his erection. No feminizing terms are used for his body.

MASSIVE CW FOR:
    --attempted S/A
    --bottom dysphoria)))

   If there was anywhere in the world that you could find John on a Friday afternoon, it would most certainly not be a bar. He hated everything about them. The smell of alcohol, the loud music, bright lights--it could send him into a panic attack in record time. He could hear everything from the parking lot, it was so loud. He approached the front of the building, slightly dilapidated, with posters crudely nailed on its exterior. On one side of the entrance stood a doorman, tall and sturdy. His posture radiated confidence, with a hint of distrust, as John approached him. "ID?" John rummaged through his pocket and pulled out his driver's license. He took it from his shaky, outstretched hand, analysing it carefully. "Here. Go in," the man handed the card back, speaking in harsh, short sentences, clearly trying to intimidate him. John couldn't blame him, though. His whole job revolved around wrangling drunks. It sounded more than miserable to him, personally.
   Speaking of drunks, he soon spotted Molly, sitting at the bar. She noticed him quickly, waving him over loudly, no regard for the attention she was drawing to both of them. Heart in his throat, he obliged, choosing a stool one seat to the right from hers. He flinched as she moved down, clearly not getting the memo. She pressed her thigh against his, bouncy, curly hair framing her flushed face. He vaguely recalled a time when this would arouse him, but in this moment, all he felt was empty. "Hey...hun," she slurred, her thick Bostonian accent warped by intoxication. She had already been here a while, he could tell. "Hey..." He returned timidly. "I already...got you somethin'...already..." She pushed a small shot glass towards him. He debated it. He was always a lightweight, plus he hadn't drank in a while, but maybe a little buzz would take the edge off this tense situation? It was only one shot, he told himself, throwing back the clear liquid.
   It was mostly tasteless going down, almost like water, but less refreshing, of course. He hoped this meant it had lower alcohol content. Two shots later, he was laughing and talking with the same reckless abandon Molly had exhibited earlier. He didn't know how much time had passed, between the noise and his own growing sense of confusion, but eventually she got up to leave, instructing him to do so as well. His legs threatened to buckle underneath him as he got up, but he righted himself and followed her out the door back into the parking lot. "Where's your car?" He pointed to Garcia's, and she began to walk towards it, stepping inside. "What are you--are you doing?" He stammered, but got inside as well. "That place was giving me a headache...glad we got out of there," she ignored his question completely, slowly sliding her fluffy jacket off her shoulders as they closed the doors.
   "Yeah, me too," he murmured, gazing out the window. He felt fine surrounded by other people, but alone... "Again...why did you want to come out here?" Her eyes met his, pupils dilated. "I was thinking you could give me a ride home," "Oh, that's no pro--" "...would that require...'payment'?" John opened his mouth to say something, but all the words jumbled together, getting stuck in his throat. Of course it wouldn't. He'd already explained to her that he didn't want to do anything like that. He just thought they were gonna go out and talk, just talk. How stupid. She took his silence as a yes, pressing her lips to John's. Though he was no stranger to this forced intimacy, tears still welled up in his eyes. She groaned into the sloppy, drunken kiss, but he didn't move, frozen in distaste and fear. His inebriated mind raced, but he was still stuck like a deer in headlights as she took what she wanted. They had been married, after all. Perhaps this was love.
   His mind wandered to earlier that evening, to Rogelio's gentle touch, the warmth he felt near to him. She'd never made him feel like that--safe, loved, respected. He put his arms on her bare shoulders, shoving her back to slump into the seat. "I-I don't want that..." He mumbled, unsure if he made the right choice. "C'monnnn, you knew this would happen. Why are you backing out now? You know you enjoyed it..." He hesitated, unsure on whether or not to be truthful.

    "I'm in love with...someone else. A man."

   The fumbled words were more surprising to John than to Molly, but it still gave him a sense of closure. He didn't admit it for her sake, but for his own. Her horrified expression said all that needed to be said. "Get out. Just--get the fuck out. Now." She spat on him as she grabbed her coat, mumbling something about "queers" as she walked away, but that didn't bother John. He had a confession to make.

                                     ~~~

   Rogelio was restless. His one true love was out with his ex-wife, leaving him all alone in the apartment. John had taken his car, so he couldn't go anywhere, do anything. It was just him, alone and sulking. A hopeful, selfish part of him wished that it would go badly, that he would come home to him, embrace him and profess his undying love. Yet another, more selfless, part was willing to lose him, as long as he was happy. But the thought of him with someone else was truly unbearable. They belonged together. Just in the span of a few days, he began to not just feel attraction, but a true, honest connection. Did John feel the same?
   He sat back in his chair with a huff of frustration. Of course not. If he did, he would be here right now. With you, not with her. Eager to escape his thoughts, he leaned forward to cut on his turntable, content with whatever he had left in there last time he'd played it. As he closed his eyes, a smooth, sultry voice filled his ears. Elvis. How ironic.

"Shall I stay?
   Would it be a sin?
       If I can't help
          falling in love
             with you?"

   As much as each word felt like salt in an emotional wound, at least it was soothing. Just as he felt himself drift off, he heard a knock at the door. A jolt of excitement shot through him, and he almost broke the locks trying to get them open. He was greeted with the sight of John standing in the doorway. Slightly disheveled, he mumbled a "...hey," as he made his way toward their bedroom. Rogelio didn't hesitate to follow after cutting off the music.
   They both sat on the bed, John's feet touching the floor, but Rogelio's?...not quite. "I have something to tell you," John sighed, voice heavy with guilt. He was so sure of himself the whole ride home, but now, in front of his..."friend", all his confidence melted into a pathetic, blushing puddle. The other man's heart skipped a beat. Maybe...? "I'm..." Rogelio's chest tightened in anticipation. "You know what? I can s-show you better than I can tell you." He leaned forward, messily smashing his face into Rogelio's, who jumped at the suddenness. In mere seconds, he was straddling him, arms around his shoulders. Rogelio's larger hands found his way to John's hips, squeezing gently at the soft flesh. It was heavenly, the combined warmth of their bodies intensifying as he began to grind his hips against Garcia's erection. They pulled away, gasping for air. "F-fuck...I love you so much," he couldn't hold back the sinful confession as his partner on top of him quickened the pace. Looking up to John's face, he had a realization that made his heart drop.
   His eyes were unfocused, hazy, his breaths shallow and quick, even for what they were doing. He was clearly drunk out of his mind, and Rogelio was taking advantage of the younger man in his vulnerable, impotent state. "What's wronggg...?" He whined. "I think we should stop, John." He scrambled to find an excuse. "...I'm not ready." That one wasn't entirely a lie, he wasn't too eager to explain his...anatomy. John got up from his lap to lie down on their bed. "Okay, how about  this...?" He opened his arms, beckoning Rogelio to lie between them. "Sure..." He crawled to him, resting his head on John's warm chest. "...mine..." John mumbled sleepily, tangling his fingers in Rogelio's hair. "Yes, mi vida, I'm all yours."