Bigger Than You Ever Done It
A/N: Originally posted September 9, 2011. Alright, so eviljellybean88 wanted fic involving the security cameras in Griffin's Malibu beach house. This happened. Um. It's kind of short, which makes me sad, but I hope you like it anyway, dude.
Arthur Griffin is a business man. He works hard and he plays hard, from the boardroom to the wide open forests of the Amazon to conference calls to the ever-famous Art Gallery in Bratislava. But every world class CEO has to relax sometime. Corporate takeovers, taxidermy, and human hunting just aren't the same as mindless fun, especially not when some peon is whimpering all pathetic-like about how you're going to take a blowtorch to his eye. Mindless fun is a simpler joy, like- like reality television.
Griffin loves reality TV.
So when Gustavo and Kelly come to him, all pitiful, and request with appropriate amounts of fear and respect that the boys are allowed a beach day, Griffin agrees to it. He appreciates their cowering, because it is due to him. He does sign their paychecks. Plus he can hit a running man with an arrow at an impressive distance of nearly half a mile, in those countries that allow it. Like Bratislava. Of course he enjoys that portion of the otherwise dull conversation, but. But.
He's a business man. He sees the request as the opportunity it is. He just got a whole new security system installed in his Malibu home. Mostly so he can keep an eye on his daughter and that straggly haired, cannabis smoking boyfriend of hers. But he thinks that this? Would be a prime opportunity to sit back, relax, and enjoy some reality TV.
There is nothing more entertaining than teenagers. They're just so stupid sometimes.
Right after the brood leaves, he heads straight to his security feed. Settling back, Arthur Griffin presses play, the rubber button smooth beneath his fingers.
Time for some good old fashioned entertainment.
Kendall is hiding. He will never acknowledge that hiding might be the accurate word for what he's doing, but, well. It kind of is.
He cringes away from a noise in the hallway, slumping down into frothy water until only his eyes are visible. The Jacuzzi sits inside a glassed-in atrium at the edge of the beach house, surrounded by exotic looking plants. Kendall has never seen so many differently shaped leaves in his life, and he's pretty sure the flowered thing over in the corner keeps looking at him. And licking its lips. He's not even surprised; it would be just like Griffin to own man eating begonias. The only tribute to modern taste in the entire room is the space age RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid flat screen mounted on one clear wall. The screen is a shiny reflective surface, catching the too-blue and bright of the sun hitting water and throwing it right in Kendall's face. The rest of the place? Foliage and sky.
The house is stocked full of dancing teenagers, but if Sandy catches him in here, there is no one to hear him scream.
"Kendall? What are you doing?"
It's not Sandy. Kendall rises up out of the bubbles, gulping down fresh air. He gasps, "I'm avoiding that crazy girl."
James whistles, appreciative, "Playing the field, hunh buddy?"
"No! She's psychotic." Kendall's voice actually breaks in apprehension. "And her boyfriend is gigantic."
Not that he's scared of Tad. What kind of name is Tad even supposed to be? Is he going to grow up into a frog, or is that some kind of overt reference to the size of his penis?
James is not fooled by Kendall's bravado.
James is really shockingly hard to fool sometimes. It's annoying.
"Right. So why are you hiding in the Jacuzzi?"
"I'm not hiding, James. Just. I might as well enjoy my beach day." Kendall glances mournfully past the man-eating plants towards the outside world. He catches a glimpse of the waves rolling onto the shore and pouts. Kendall was really looking forward to today. It's not fair that he's like, a magnet for Little Miss Stalkerette. Although it is a little bit flattering. Kendall's not usually the guy their fans flock to like doe-eyed sheep. He's the band member who gets his eyebrows mocked on internet forums instead. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were off being in love with some girl or something."
He suppresses an eye roll. James is always in love with some girl.
"I am, but. Mind if I join you? I need to run some ideas past you."
"Isn't that what Logan's for?"
"Logan called me a mean name."
"Why would he do that?"
"I told him that I'm going to become a merman."
"Oh." Kendall stifles a laugh. Only James.
James crosses his arms. "You don't believe me. Camille believes me."
"That doesn't surprise me." He snickers. Camille has cockblocked Kendall with Jo more times than he can count, but he still thinks she's awesome. She's cut the amount of time Kendall has to spend dealing with James's melodrama down by half.
"Fine. I'll go run my ideas by her-"
That said, Kendall likes dealing with James's melodrama. There's no better high in the world than proving to James- the same way he has since they were toddlers- that Kendall owns everything ever.
"No, James, wait. Come on. I believe you. I do," Kendall pauses, watching James slide off his t-shirt and begin to slowly clamber into the hot tub.
The guy has the most enviable abs in the universe. Kendall has spent more than one lazy sleepover pressing his fingers against skin and muscle, marveling at the feel of all that perfection under his palm, moving with every rise and fall of James's breath.
Something foul hits his nose. It kind of distracts from James's godlike body and the equal measures of jealousy and desire it inspires low in Kendall's stomach. He wrinkles his nose. "Hey, uh. Why do you smell like fish?"
James sighs, sinking into the water. His thigh brushes up against Kendall's. "Camille was trying to teach me what life under the sea is like."
This time, Kendall can't help the laughter that escapes his throat. "James, you've seen the Little Mermaid too many times."
"What?" James chuckles awkwardly. "I've never- seen…the- Little Mermaid…"
"Right. So it wasn't your favorite movie when we were six?" Kendall thinks it's a totally pertinent and non-offensive question, but apparently he's wrong. James glares at him. If he had hackles, they would be raised.
"You promised you'd never speak of it!" Kendall does not recall ever making that promise. He tries not to box himself in like that when it comes to memories that have the potential for future blackmail. He smirks. It doesn't appease James. At all. "You know, maybe you should just let psycho-girl's boyfriend bash your face in."
Kendall's mouth drops open. Rude. "Geez, dude. I was just teasing."
"And I'm just saying it can't damage your face more than it already is."
"Hey!"
"Hey yourself." James pouts. He's got his arms wrapped around himself like Kendall's aura might jump out and attack him. "You don't handle constructive criticism very well."
"It's my face! You can't constructively criticize my face!"
"I just did." James points out. He's such a little bitch sometimes. He knows Kendall is sensitive about the way he looks. It's the one area where James always has him beat.
"How do you expect me to fix it?" Kendall huffs. James doesn't answer. He's still in the midst of a conniption fit. Whatever. Kendall sinks down until the water's over his shoulders, glaring daggers at James. There is nothing wrong with his face, and it's not his fault that James had a penchant for Disney musicals as a kid. It is especially not his fault that all his favorites starred pretty pretty princesses.
Besides, it's not like Kendall announced it where anyone could actually hear.
The silence gets so bad that Kendall is almost thinking Sandy-the-Psychotic might not be so terrible after all when James shudders and says, "There are a lot of pictures of Mercedes in that hallway."
"I noticed. The pictures don't quite capture the maniacal gleam in her eye. I feel sorry for Guitar Dude."
"I don't. Dude, she may be crazy, but she's hot. You know I like dimples," James says, reaching out and thumbing one of Kendall's cheeks. It's as much of an apology as James is ever going to give him.
Kendall takes it. There are times when bickering with James is worth it and times when it really isn't, and it's hard to be mad when James's fingers are resting soft against the corner of Kendall's mouth. The air between them is thick with steam and something more, something that sits in Kendall's lungs and makes him feel dizzy for the lack of oxygen.
James's fingers drop away, falling back into the water with a splash.
"Do you think Annie can introduce me to the king of the sea?"
"She's a princess now?"
"She has to be. She's so pretty."
Kendall nods his agreement, biting down on a grin. James thinks the only prerequisite for a monarchy is beauty. God forbid anyone ever puts him in charge of a country.
"Maybe I can marry her and become royalty. I'd make a great king." Kendall gives him a dubious look, and James says, "Just you wait 'til prom. You'll be begging to kiss my kingly feet."
When Kendall still looks way too skeptical, James scoots in closer, so that Kendall can feel every inch of him, foot to shoulder. He says, low and husky, "You'll be begging for something."
The words send heat up Kendall's spine, shattering any of the ire he was able to keep a grip on from before. Fuck it. All is forgiven. "Oh yeah? And what, exactly, will I ever have to beg you for?"
Kendall wraps an arm around James's waist, tugging him closer still, until James is actually half sitting on his lap. Luridly, he murmurs, "Are you asking for a demonstration?"
"Maybe I am." Kendall runs his fingers over the back of James's trunks, tracing the curve of his ass.
James shivers into it and says, "Don't have time. Gotta be a merman."
"James." Kendall groans. He sees the death-glare beginning to rear its ugly head again, and that won't do at all. "Look, I fully support your ambition to be a fish. I'm just saying that if you grow a tail, how do you get some tail? Are there zippers on those flippers or what?"
"Did you just rhyme on purpose? Uncalled for, dude. I don't make fun of you when you tell me your dreams."
Kendall's dreams are way more realistic than James's, but that's not really the point right now. Kendall has the best idea. He is in the midst of salvaging his beach day.
"I'm serious! How do mermaids even have sex? Do they lay eggs?" Kendall asks, lips quirking. "James." Kendall slides his free hand up his friend's thigh; slipping beneath his swim trunks and lingering on the flesh inside, inches below his cock. "I'm not making fun of you. I'm your friend. I'm concerned. I'm a concerned friend."
James's lips part. His tongue darts out, wetting the corner of his mouth, and Kendall grins. Then, because he's a bit of a tease, he withdraws both of his hands and stretches them across the wall of the Jacuzzi. "Although I know concern is a foreign concept to you, judging by your reaction when I told you that I was being stalked by a psychopath."
James sulks. "I was concerned. I was just- distracted. I was wondering if the fish smell was giving me a premature transformation."
Kendall lets James make sad faces at him for a full minute before he pulls James completely into his lap, checking behind his ears. James is warm all over, and he smells like sand and the sea. Kendall likes that. He breathes hot against his skin as he murmurs, "Nope, I don't see any gills."
"Nothing?"
"Not even one. Are you sure about this merman thing?"
"Why- uh." James swallows when Kendall's hands resume the previous position, fingers running down the curve of his ass, pressing into the flesh beneath the fabric of his trunks. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Kendall kneads the skin on the small of his back with his other hand, fingertips digging into base of his spine. He smirks at James. "You're not going to regret it if you never get laid. Ever again?"
He places his mouth against James's chest, grabbing at the skin surrounding his nipple light with his teeth before working his tongue over the whole area. It never turns into a kiss. Not quite.
"Um. Uh." The English language is really hard sometimes, obviously. Kendall waits, patient, until it becomes evident that James is going to have trouble getting more than that out.
"It might be your last time, James," Kendall mumbles into his collarbone. He smirks, working his way upward, finally pressing a kiss to his throat. "Don't you want your last time to be memorable?"
"I really have to- go. Annie's waiting and-"
"What about me, James?" Kendall exhales into his ear. James can feel it all the way down his neck, creeping across his skin like a flush, if the way he moans is any indication. "What if I get killed by Sandy's steroidosaurus boyfriend? What if this is the very last time I ever get laid?"
"Is Jo going to be okay with this?" James asks, his voice husky, cracking.
"She told me not to let any beach babes take her spot on my blanket. Are we on a blanket right now?" Kendall's fingers dip inside the back of James's trunks. He works his way down until the tip of his index finger is pressed up against James's asshole. And then he doesn't move.
"You're a tease." James groans. "That's why you're going to end up bound and gagged in some psycho-girl's basement and I'm going to be a merman."
Kendall pushes a finger into James, a little rough with it. James hisses, but he's completely focused on Kendall, and Kendall likes that even more than the warmth of his body. He works best with an audience. Eyes glued to James's, Kendall burrows another finger inside of his best friend. The sun streaming through the glass ceiling is blanching out half of James's tan, but he still looks shimmery and golden and beautiful. His lips gape open and he rocks back against Kendall's hand.
"What would I do if you disappeared into the ocean forever?" Kendall demands, nipping at James's ear. He runs his tongue slick and wet against the cartilage. "Did you even think about it?"
He emphasizes every word with a rough thrust of his fingers, and James makes this startled yelp, something like exhilaration and need wrapped up into a single sound.
"I don't know. Pretty girls," he says by way of explanation. They both know it doesn't take much more than a whiff of perfume for James to lose his head. Kendall scissors his fingers apart a little harder than is strictly necessary, and James makes a wounded noise, low in his chest.
"You'd make me walk into the ocean and carry you out, wouldn't you?" Kendall asks, smirking. He slaps his free hand lightly against James's ass, the move softened even more by the viscosity of the water in the hot tub. It still has the desired effect. James flinches forward, his hips stuttering into Kendall's, rubbing their cocks together for this single delicious moment.
Right. So they need to be naked. Immediately.
Kendall fumbles with the laces on the front of his trunks, trying to free his dick. He can feel James squeezing hot and tight around his fingers and fuck, it's going to be so much better when he's squeezing hot and tight around Kendall instead. Except James is staring at him, a little bit vulnerable, and Kendall has to stop and focus. James is careful with his words, like he's scared he might be messing up a good thing. He asks, "Are we really going to fuck in Griffin's hot tub?"
"Shouldn't we?" Kendall asks, running a thumb along the cheek of his ass while his fingers curve inside of James.
"Just- you haven't wanted to in a while, and…What if it's not good enough? I want your last time to be really, really good."
James is confident about everything, so Kendall thrown by the sudden show of vulnerability. But he also gets where it's coming from. In Minnesota, they used to do this all the time. California has brought them closer together, but it's also pushed them apart in some ways. He has Jo and James has his escapades, and they both have the constant thrum of music in their veins.
"We're on a magical beach, James. Anything could happen," Kendall presses his cheek against James's; the warmth and the prickle of stubble are strange against his chin. "Anything except that."
And it's true. James doesn't know how to be anything less than stellar. He's better than the best wet dream fantasy, and it kills Kendall that he ever doubts that, even for minute.
James's smile is slow and sweet, happiness taking over his face. He pushes his ass down against Kendall's hand, pleasure flickering across his features. "So fuck me already."
Kendall has to extricate his fingers from James to help him out of his bathing suit. The thing's kind of hard to slip off; it sticks to James's thigh like a second skin, like the scales he wants to grow. But when it's finally off, it's worth it. Kendall can just barely glimpse the red of his cock beneath the surface of the water. He pulls James forwards with hands on the back of his thighs, pressing them together until the space between them disappears, leaving nothing but friction. It takes a bit of maneuvering, and Kendall has to slump down so low in the water that half of it is getting in his mouth, but he can't even worry about that. He's got James angled over him, his dick pressed up against the fever hot entrance of his ass, and it's pretty much his favorite place for James to be.
Kendall smoothes his hands along James's shoulders, using the leverage to press him down, to fuck up inside of James in one easy motion. James groans. Water isn't anything like lube, and it's to James's credit that the first few times that he lowers himself down onto Kendall's cock he gives no indication that it feels anything less than good. But there's nothing like a rhythm to it, and James moves like Kendall is rubbing his insides raw. Kendall has to take over, to grip the jut of James's hips and angle him back, just a little, until James gasps.
"Better?" Kendall mumbles, flicking his tongue over the front of James's lower lip. His mouth tastes like sea salt, like hazy summer days.
James surges forward, kissing him, his tongue curling around Kendall's, licking along the line of his teeth. He mumbles something incomprehensible into Kendall's mouth, and Kendall nips at him, having trouble multitasking. He bucks his hips up, smirking into the kiss. "I'm going to miss you when you're a fish."
"You talk too much." James grunts, trying to follow Kendall's lips, but Kendall leans back, resting his head against the slick plastic wall of the Jacuzzi. He uses his hands to force James down, to make him move in these long, lazy rolls of his hips.
There's a flush riding high on James's cheeks, his jaw line working. He clenches his teeth together every time Kendall hits the angle just right. And James is noisy; he grunts and moans and whimpers. The sound echoes out into the atrium like birdsong. He is sun dappled, he is shining with sweat, and he is the sexiest thing that Kendall has ever seen.
Kendall digs his fingernails into the skin at James's hips, trying to keep control of the situation. It's so easy to lose it when James is riding him, when James is watching him with hooded eyes and parted lips and something like adoration.
Kendall's hands slide back, pressing into the small of James's back, where he can feel his muscles work beneath the place his skin dimples. His thighs squeeze at Kendall, his chest heaving, his hips kicking up water every time they undulate forward. The head of Kendall's cock is surrounded by James, who is molded around him like Kendall actually belongs there, buried in James's ass. Every time he hitches up, the pressure increases, slick along the shaft and fever hot. James is tight and he's wet and he's perfect, he was made for this; made for Kendall.
James is fucking everywhere, up in Kendall's space, gulping down Kendall's air. His fingers are pressing bruises into Kendall's knee and his arm, where he's holding on like the world might fall away otherwise.
"Fuck being a merman," James mumbles. Kendall silently agrees. He watches the stain on the tendons in James's arm, the soft skin of James's inner elbow and the bulge of muscle leading up to his shoulder. He studies the sweat beading in the hollows of his throat, the curve of his lips. He knows exactly the minute, the second when he has to take full control, when James begins to lose the tempo and the cadence of what's happening between them. Kendall loops his arm around James, turning the tables halfway. He swivels them both, forcing James's side into the wall of the hot tub, jets pounding into his back while he pounds into James. Kendall's dick is surrounded by this insane heat that pulls at him and James is loud, too loud. Kendall's name is bouncing back at him from all the glass surfaces. He can feel himself breaking apart, can see dots at the edge of his vision, his spine turning molten.
Between them, James's hand is stroking over his own dick, and Kendall can't see it, can't actually make out the shape of his knuckles moving beneath the river-rapid water, but he can feel droplets hitting his shoulders, his pectorals, his throat. He doesn't need to see when he's got the blueprint of James bringing himself off imprinted on his brain, the evidence of it dampening his skin. And then the pressure around his dick turns to a spasm, tight clenches that wring everything Kendall has left out of him. He keeps fucking hard into his best friend, this rush of warmth brushing wetter than wet against his stomach in spurts. The last things he sees before his mind blanks out completely is sunlight hitting glass, the too-green of all the potted plants, and James; the curve of his ear and the long stretch of his throat.
Best beach day ever.
Griffin looks down at the water bubbling around his body. He swirls his fingers through the Jacuzzi, thinking hard.
His ex wife always told him that hot tubs were a boiling mass of bacteria and filth. Griffin thought she meant not to pee in them, or bacteria would swim up his urethra like that one Amazonian fish.
Hmm.
He frowns at the Jacuzzi and, because he is a World Class CEO and thus very wise and intelligent, makes the executive decision to get out.
He can finish watching the security feed in his bedroom, where no action has been seen in at least three years.
Definitely safer.