Not So Tough Now, a big time rush fanfic

Title: Not So Tough Now

Author: rumbleroar846

Pairing: James Diamond/Kendall Knight AU

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, offensive language, sexual situations, asphyxiation, angst

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author's Note: This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, and then as I went back to write it at so many different points in the past two months it evolved into a very lengthy piece. I realize that the end is partially open-ended, depending upon further interest in the storyline, so I may add a second part. It shouldn't become a series, though. I realize that it does go a bit all over the place, so I'm hoping that it doesn't read too terribly. If I had finished it when I originally had the idea and didn't let things like work and college get in the way (who needs those?) then I feel like I would be happier with it. Honestly I'm just satisfied that I "finished it", if you don't count the possible~ second part lol. Anywho, I hope that you guys enjoy!

It was going to be perfect. The ultimate moment that James had dreamed about since pre-school. The hoping. The waiting. The crying. It was almost too good. Perhaps at long last it was karma, turning full circle to stand nobly by his side. Or maybe it was just a test from the Universe: to see how good of a man James encompassed. Either way, his cock was aching, and his lips were smiling.

A slow-growing boy with excessive body fat, James Diamond was still as fabulous as his mother would have hoped. He had dramatic lashes, God-straightened teeth, and a tan that Brooke paid $120 a week just to retain on herself. Her son didn't even need conditioning treatments for his hair or weekly waxing appointments for his eyebrows. This small, round person that she carried inside of her for nine months was born to be worshipped almost as much as she was, and she made sure that he knew it every day.

Yet upon entering his first day of pre-school, James found that not everyone understood how important it was to be this pretty. As it turned out, they didn't even seem to notice that he was gorgeous. His mother saw it, so why didn't his peers? It occurred to him that they might all have bad eyes, which in turn allowed him to feel sympathy toward the school.

That idea ended with the harsh words of a boy six inches taller than himself. At first glance, James couldn't make heads or tails of this creature, calling the kid an 'it' because why are his eyebrows so big? It stood there so proudly, too: hands on its hips and commanding the attention of not only the four-year olds but the weary-eyed teacher as well. Its hair was alright, but not styled to save the soul. Really the only aspect that James could find appealing on the boy were its eyes, green and full of opinions. Not that James Turwas due to this charitable mindset that James felt such slap from the question.

"Why are you so fat?"

It must be talking to someone else, though at least the question of gender was solved. His voice, while underdeveloped, still held a ruggedness found solely in the male species. James felt this knowledge would save him some embarrassment.

"Jamie Jewl'ry, why're you so fat?" The boy sneered.

Or at least he thought it would. Being so naïve, he believed his heart may have stopped at the direct gaze of those appealing eyes. "M-Me?"

"Yeah, Jamie Jewl'ry, how much d'ya eat?"

His cheeks darkened, highlighting Rosaea that his mother had always told him showcased his 'bone-structure', or something along those lines. "I.." Everyone was pointing at him: some to laugh and some to murmur over the rough-and-tumble's inquiries. It was obvious that this lanky creature had already established a sort of power over the playground. James, on the other hand, wasn't doing as well as he sensed he should. "I eat three healthy meals a day, and one after-lesson snack."

"Oh?" The questioner wasn't entirely certain as to what the term "healthy" entailed, but he did recognize "snack". "Well wha's the snack? A whole elum-phant?"

Hilarious to the others, it raised the chaotic blend of laughter that echoed from schoolyards and decreased the value of real-estate within earshot. Bouts of "Kendall yer the funniest!" and "Jamie eats elum-phants!" shot from their mouths like cannonballs, sinking James's ship on impact. This Kendall boy had just bootlegged his innocence, tangling his urge to formulate friendship and sending his confidence out to sea. James was dumb-founded, especially because look at his hair! The boy wasn't even styled, yet somehow Kendall had just managed to tear a diamond from its pedestal, only to stow it away, its majesty unnoticed in the darkness of the pirate's chest.

Excited by the chance to share their tales of fun-in-the-sun, the sixth-grade history classroom was buzzing with chatter. Friends bartered chairs until seats were perfectly coordinated to student satisfaction. Projectiles of freshly purchased loose-leaf permeated the air like comets. In the center of the glow was Kendall Knight, un-taken by the love-stricken stares poorly hidden via the girls or the eagerness for acceptance that could be detected in every urgent laugh delivered from the boys. He was used to such worship, and could only function if it wasn't finely examined. He knew he was the tallest in his class (probably the whole grade) and he knew that he was funny. In the world of pre-pubescent population, he was king. Sure he wasn't the smartest, but he got Cs and Bs and a scanting of As, so he was good to go as far as hockey went; Coach said he had the best grades on the team. People would be stupid not to like him. To even refuse Kendall a pudding cup should be felony.

James, meanwhile, remained silent. It had become his norm to degrade toward the background, once he'd learned his lesson. The more James had attempted campus stardom, Kendall had made sure that he received a blackout. So inverse was their relationship that the blonde actually gained more followers at James's dispense, and so the brunette dimmed his own spotlight, no longer believing a final product worth the snickers and blows. It was in thanks to this that he had maintained an A average, suffering only one B when Kendall had devastated him so much during the month of May three years prior that he couldn't bring himself to complete his final science lab. Luckily his mommy had forgiven him, seeing as she was led to blame influenza as her son's current tormentor.

Brooke could have been brought into the picture before the weed of Kendall's bullying had begun to sprout, but James knew his mother. Acting similarly to a lioness he had witnessed on Animal Planet, she would roar at the entire school, causing attention from all sides of the watering hole but not much damage. That and he had heard private schools issued uniforms, and if James couldn't shine he could at least retain control of his own personal style.

Semesters and summers nibbled away at the baby fat and James was considered an average middle-school boy. Still, he wasn't dumb enough to match his impeccable face, so he sat in the corner of that room like it was the best place on Earth.

Somehow, Kendall continued to be irked by him.

"Hey Shorty!" was the latest jeer.

Hazel eyes slowly lifted from the corner desk, morbidly spotting the grinning figure at the front of the room. WhereWhereWhere is our teacher? Hoping that ignoring the situation equated to dismembering it altogether, James looked down at his table.

"Hey Shorty! M'talkin' ta you!" Footsteps could be heard, surely created by that saunter that the mean guy had picked up in his years of glory.

Hands slapped hard onto James's desk. "Shortyyyy…" Kendall bent lower in attempt to catch James's eye. "Shorty, stand up."

"N-No."

Kendall stood erect. "Why not?! Jus' wanna play the measurin' game!"

James looked up. "I don't like the measuring game."

Kendall's jaw set. "Well I do. Stand up. Please."

The last word was hissed, which James now understood as the final warning preceding public humiliation. He rose from his seat and shuffled next to Kendall, stretching his spine as much as he could next to the popular kid.

"HA-HA! James is still short! Guess that means we'll still need ta call him Jamie-Lynn!" In full-force he turned to the defeated. "Don't worry Jamie-Lynn, you'll be a man someday, too."

James dropped to his chair.

"You lookin' at my junk, Diamond?!"

Oh fuck not this again.

Kendall strut through the water, high-fiving his hockey buddies on the way to the end of the row. There were ten guys at ten shower heads betwixt Kendall's spot (adjacent the doorway, as to maximize exposure for the 'benefit of human kind') and James's (in the corner, to minimize notice of his existence). For the former, this point was moot in James's explanation of how he wouldn't want to look even if he could see that far.

"Excuses excuses." Kendall shook his head and tapped his foot, water from the vacated shower head wetting him down in an overdone amplification. Sure, Kendall had grown into a nice body. He was six feet tall, etched with lean muscle and tanned from countless beach parties.

Even so, James hadn't been looking; he knew better. Reviewing his public school timeline, anything that he said, did or thought was to be analyzed until it produced an outcome awful to his mindset. When he became too inconspicuous of a character, Kendall was required to invent reasons for rampage.

James was pretty sure this was one of those times.

"Kendall-"

"Whoa, on a first name basis now, are we?" Folding his arms he glanced at his cronies. "Buy me dinner first, gay boy."

Yup. That was the newest stage in Kendall's play. Three months into their freshman year and it was apparent that the delayed growth spurt had been left at Sherwood Middle and James was jumping the hurdles. Slender, he had retired his appetite for elephants and grew to an impressive six-foot-two, once having to reach the glue for Kendall because it was on the top shelf and the art teacher wasn't one to be trifled with. That had pissed him off. Needless to say Kendall's been on the gay hunt ever since, relying on stereotypical jabs to get him through his days and to ruin James's. It wasn't in the brunette's favor that he was now slender enough to enact twink porn, if that were his cup of tea. And four years older, of course.

James would have been glad to skip showering after gym- it was a small sacrifice to make in return for enhanced safety. The snag in his plan happened two weeks in when his fourth period teacher complained to the coaches about her smelly student. Now here he was, naked.

"Don't worry, Mommy'll pay for it."

James's heart sunk , unable to defend his own mother in a room full of guys who actually had biceps. He watched Kendall step closer, ego protruding farther out than however long his dick could reach. Eyes trained to the haunt of the green eyes, James couldn't accurately compare.

When the blonde was close enough, he smirked. True to his flavorful character, a wink was added. "She can pay fer our dinner….jus' like she pays fer all yer gay makeup."

God made me pretty, get over it. "I-"

"Right, faggot?"

He rolled his eyes. "Look, I-"

"That's yer problem. Lookin'." Kendall eyed him, almost at war with himself as to whether or not he could pull off whatever it was James sensed in his pupils.

Two seconds later James was on the floor, feet flown from underneath upon the impact of Kendall's hands at his thin chest.

"Got a good view now, Gaymie?" And okay, the insult wasn't even clever, but it still hurt. Not as much as the cold tile breaking his ass, though.

"Fuck!"

Kendall laughed. "No…no-no, Gaymie, I've already tried ta tell you." He wagged his finger. "I don't like you the same way you like me. We're jus' friends, remember? No fuckin' allowed." His goons guffawed at that one.

He could already feel his stomach tightening, but he would rather hang himself than cry. "We're not friends."

A gasp and a hand to the heart. "Gaymie!" Don't be so fuckin' hurtful ya faggot!" He dropped his hand and headed for the wall. Passing by a shelved bar of soap, he used his years of little league baseball in order to spiral the bar at James's face, missing to only bruise his temple. Eleven bubbles of laughter joined the running water in the lockers. From his position on his high horse, Kendall called back "Wash yer mouth out with that, Gaymie! Ain't no boys wan' a fag who can't sweet talk!"

The bruise was covered up with the best Diamond cosmetics that afternoon, but Brooke still noticed it when James came down to binge-eat his sorrows away. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to re-apply after his nightly face wash routine.

Lying to her would have been easy, almost too much so. James had been explaining away scrapes and bumps for ten years running; it was second nature. The thing was, he was just tired of hiding, tired of all of it. Being a victim shouldn't be in anyone's vocabulary, and he didn't want it in his any longer.

So Brooke found out why he got a B on that third grade science experiment, and she enrolled James into home school.

The Honors College required at least a 3.5 GPA and a strong background of previously acquired college credits, all of which James exceeded in the safety of his own home. Notwithstanding the large difference of seclusion to forced participation, he knew he needed an education if he was to follow in the red-soled footsteps of his mother. So James was re-entering the classroom scene, double-majoring in Business and Marketing Management, anxious for a fresh start.

If he was forced to be honest, homeschooling really wasn't as terrible as the online reviews had attempted to convince. If anything it was better than a socially-hubbed academic scene. Set in the silence and familiar Chanel scent of his residence, James had much better focus and permission to expand. There, in his Louis Vuitton arm chair, he could devote one-hundred percent of his brain power to critical thinking and artistic invention as opposed to fear.

Caution giving way to performance, James found that this new efficiency allowed for greater free time. Thanks to a last name spelled with money, he found a passion in fitness, spending no less than an hour a day at their local health club and spa (one was never too pretty for a monthly chemical peel).

Lifting weights gave him a new sense of pride, realizing that he had hosted the athletic potential of his peers and then some. He molded much more than muscle and trained beyond physical discipline in the weight room. Reflection existed not only in the wall-wide mirrors but in himself as well, picking apart every little push and every monstrous shove he had received during the most sensitive decade of any person's lifetime. James was so angry at himself.

Not that the dozens of kids who could have helped him or the one fucking person who had the choice to just stop the affliction didn't earn blame. They all should have found it in their hearts to lift James from the sand after that seventh grade, quite fixed, dodge-ball tournament. Someone could have spoken against the Fat Frenzy of Fourth Grade, when James had come back from winter vacation carrying Hannukah cookie-induced water weight. The eighth grade dance would have been a much happier memory if someone had chosen to ask if James was okay instead of letting him cry, soda-soaked and hurt, on the bathroom floor. One kind gesture could have moved mountains.

Yet he couldn't help but feel responsible for just letting all of that happen. He didn't stand up for himself, not even when he wasn't bound by time in pre-school. He didn't have to just take all of that bullshit from those kids: from Kendall. As he raised the weights to end his fifth rep, he promised himself that he wouldn't let it happen again.

So he was glad that his dorm building came equipped with its own gym. Upon close examination- which he felt was necessary in remembrance of all of those fungal warnings published in Fitness Magazine- he judged the place hygienic enough for his liking. Satisfied, James spent his primary college hours on triceps, rhomboids, biceps, delts, pectorals and a hint of cardio. He wouldn't have it any other way.

The showers, however, were not as kosher and so James set a steady jog for his private apartment on the edge of South Campus. A distance away, it would at least add an extra pump to his routine. I still don't get why the Honors dorms have to be so far away from everyone else though. We're U-Minn students, too.

Having long since conquered the troubles of hard-breathing during exercise, James loped the sidewalks as an immaculate example of the college man. Pecks bouncing lightly, stride long and muscled arms naked for show, every head turned. It made him smile, enacting a catch-22 as the God-straightened teeth finally caught the admiration that his mother insisted. People were looking at him like they…well like they liked him. Like girls liked him and guys wanted to be him and he felt like Kendall and-

Wow. So that's what he had felt like. All of those periods daydreaming of alliances and self-worth and this was what it was like to be accepted. Because I look good, no wonder Mom's rich as fuck. Maybe he could try the dining hall tonight. They still served healthy options and odds allowed for it to be more interesting than another night alone.

He might even make some friends.

Welcome Week was fantastic.

The trainers loved him. The residents on his floor loved him. The dean of the Honors College loved him.

James had friends now.

Fantastic was the lone word James could muster to fit the aspects of this novel universe. Already he had retained friends from a few of the ice-breakers and knew some Honors guys that enjoyed the gym as much as he did, already set to compete together in an October marathon. It was surreal- maybe that was another term he could apply to university life- that James hadn't been dropped-kicked or spit upon in the past six days.

Possibly even more mind-blowing was that he had gotten through his Biology class with similar results. It was a regular college course, bearing in mind that James didn't understand the point of science and so steered away from it in high school. Neither he nor his mentor saw reason for enrolling him in an advanced Bio if he was planning on never touching the stuff post-semester uno. Still, the people were just as nervous as he was and the professor wasn't gun-to-the-head boring, so it still counted as a success. Walking from class to his dorm yielded a care-free state of mind; no further classes today and just two chapters to study. Breathing in, he felt it was a glute kind of day, forever a swell pairing with 45 minutes of core-buster abdominal sculpting.

Not that I need it. He chuckled to himself.

The best thing about college, and, granted it was only the first day, was that everyone seemed happy. That peppy brunette was giggling with some friends, those Asians all seemed pretty content with forming a clique, that blonde guy was strutti-

No.

Immediate instinct forced James into the bushes, security-blanketed by an immense oak in his sight range. Overwhelmed with his heart pounding against his eyeballs, he stumbled to the dirt, peering through leaves and twigs at a nightmare that shouldn't smell so nature-infested from his standpoint. Sitpoint.

Perhaps the initial alarm had scrambled his senses, for simply There's no fucking way. But the guy walked right past the bushes, giving James falcon-accuracy to assess the heavy brow and squared jaw. The eyes were what gave it away, however, and it was in those irises that James found his stomach curling, and his hands shaking. He watched him strut, evaluating the same body structure as the ninth grade and the hips swinging in such a way-

He looks…the same. Not any taller, not visibly stronger. Kendall Knight…hasn't changed at all. It was in that moment that a promise was repeated, a promise made to a person so close to his heart that it was his own, and he stood, brushing the dirt from his jeans as he resumed his gym-bound stroll.

Kendall had a bad case of the intestinal butterflies. He had been given four days to ponder over this decision, having received the folded pink stationary amongst his bills and care-packages Tuesday afternoon. Innocent enough, he chuckled, thinking that it might have been that Lindsey girl who had flirted with him in Pre-Calc. Walking away from it to change his clothes, muse led him to the face of that redhead…Angel…Erika…that girl with the big boobs in Comp. When he stared at it, mocking him from the coffee table, he contemplated the possibility of that one black girl…but she seemed ballsier than a note. Holy fuck this isn't middle school I can jus' open it.

Scrawled in the most eloquent text feasible, he double-checked to affirm it as handwriting instead of printed font. He chuckled, tickled by the perfume wafting off the page:

Hey Kendall ;)

Too bad we don't get to see much of each other. Luckily I live in the Honors building in 846 and I'm free for some one-on- top-of-one (that's the expression, right? ;p) time on Saturday at 10. Hope you don't have a bedtime ;) See ya then? ;)

It was the third smiley face that did it.

Aroused by the promise of sex (for whatever else would one include so many emoticons?) he all but trotted into the elevator. Easy stud, you'll get some. Running his fingers through his tresses, he smirked because, yeah, when don't I get some?

Kendall's most recent coital gathering was prior to his campus arrival, however, so if it was just the same to this chick he'd rather skip most of the foreplay- a quick blow would do- and get right to his favorite sport.

Sorry, hockey: you don't have a pussy.

Exigency surfacing, he wrapped on the door enough to rattle the hinges. He sighed, composing his handsome self as much as possible. She'll fuck me no matter what I look like anyway. As the door fell open, he patted himself on the back as he waltzed into the apartment.

"Hi Kendall."

The door bolted shut before the addressed could react; killed lights disorienting the little perception he gained of the room.

"Wha-"

"Time to playyy."

"Oh-FFF!" Thrashing ensued as he was dragged by the mouth and shoulders to God knows where. The taunting voice definitely didn't belong to a girl and neither did the callouses on these huge fucking hands. What the fuck? Soon following the sentiment he impacted what was most likely a bed. Where is he? "The fuck, m-"

"Weird fer you not ta fight back."

Uhh... "I-"

"Go ahead, scream fer help."

"Mayb-"

"Walls are soundproof."

He huffed. "Yeah right."

"Honors privilege." And Kendall could just hear the grin lacing through that sentence.

"Who the hell are you?"

"A friend."

"Oh…Doug?"

"What? No."

"Hmm…Mike?"

"Yanno…" He edged closer, and with the advantage of it being his own apartment, James could make out the room easier than his companion. Sliding a finger down the blonde's cheek, he chuckled when he shivered. "it pains me, Kendall…that you wouldn't remember me." The bed dipped as he sat.

"Don't put your arm around me."

"Sorry, you just seemed cold." Though expressed nonchalantly, James tightened his grip. "But anyway, like I was saying, you said we were friends, Kendall. Why aren't we friends now?"

This was getting a little agitating. "Look man, if ya jus' tell me who ya are-"

"Is that what'ch'ya want?"

"Huh?"

"I said, is that what'ch'ya want? Wanna know who I am?"

He shrugged. "Yeah man, I mean, when were we friends? And who's ta say we ain't still friends now?" Jus' act cool an' this guy'll let'ch'ya go home, Kendall. Don't let him know he's creepin' ya out.

"You're the guest." He chirped. James strode to the light switch, milking the moment. "Oh, jus' one more thing before I forget, Kendall."

"Hm? What's that?"

"I hope that high school was fun fer you."

The light singed Kendall's retinas, and that's why he thought himself to be mistaken. No-no-no. It looked like somebody he knew but the body was all wrong: too sculpted, too domineering and too full. "Who are you?"

"You-" Easy, James, it's almost a compliment. "Still don't know, huh?"

"N-"

"Look at me."

"I am-"

James leaped on top of the boy, sending his back cracking to the sheets and his neck buckling within claws. "LOOK AT ME, GODDAMMIT!" James shook the petrified little thing. "LOOK AT WHO I AM NOW, YOU SICK BASTARD!"

Just because his eyes were slowly melting in their sockets didn't mean that Kendall hadn't gotten the full picture. Everything was different about him, sure; muscles that existed beyond minimum requirement, height greater than his own and an assertion of personality. He had reflected on and off again about this guy. He just had never remembered him so angry. "Ohgh. Fuckgh."

The richer sneered, retracting his hand for only moments. "Oh. Fuck." A slap. "What'd'ya think, Kendall?! HUH?!" He struck him again. "Thought you could just- just-" James was having too much fun to stop. "SHIT on me all my fucking life, and then get away with it? Scott-free?! IS THAT WHAT YOU THOUGHT?!" Another blow to the face.

His skin stung and the tears were only partially from the pain. "N-No…James, I'm sor-"

"DON'T EVER TELL ME THAT YOU'RE SORRY." He heaved over him, saliva speckling the prey's nose, but he daren't wipe it away.

Instead he only stared: stared up into those melting pots of resin, and cowered at his prospects. This guy was heavy and pissed. He couldn't do much for himself as of yet.

"You made me feel like shit, Kendall."

"I-"

"YOU MADE ME HATE MY LIFE!" He roared. "You made me hate school, you made me hate other kids- kids who should've been my friends- you made me hate our city. YOU MADE ME HATE EVERYTHING I WAS SUPPOSED TO LIKE! You took it away! You took away a NORMAL. FUCKING. CHILDHOOD!" James gasped, easing himself into better refinement. All of those years, wanting to confront his enemy, and here he was, saying the words that had been scripted and edited, awaiting the publisher's final approval for thirteen years. Breathing through his nostrils, James moved his knee to pin the smaller's thigh, fitting his other adjacent to that one and its partner. A chuff echoed beneath the layers of muscle in his pectorals, loving how Kendall, the Kendall Knight, was finally shaking. Absolutely rickety at his presence, rattling like nickels in a soup can.

It was so much better in person.

The weightlifter stroked his fingers across Kendall's wet and reddened cheek, using the strength of butterflies. The blonde only shuddered, keeping his eyes trained on this beast of karma. The fingers trailed higher, lacing in that light hair and ripping as hard as it possibly could.

"AAH!"

One more bellow before a whisper. "SHUT UP!" He leaned down, letting his lips heat the shell of Kendall's ear. The guy whimpered at the closeness, hating the cologne on James that was so misleading. "You don't get ta feel pain, Kendall, you lost that privilege. You don't get ta feel sorry…or victimized…" His right hand slipped below, unbuckling the brown belt that he was threatened with in ninth grade. "Ya just get ta feelyourself, and what you did."

"N-No." Came the rasp. "No…J-James, please. Please-" He gaped when he heard his own pants unzipping, the light clink of the buckle calling out its defeat to the owner. "This is bad…this is so bad…"

"No one ever liked me because of you, Kendall." James licked. "I never got the chance to date pretty girls. I never got the chance to figure out my sexuality. Wanna help me?"

"J-James-"

"Let's play the measurin' game." He yanked Kendall's dick, exposing it to the cool air of the dorm. James snickered, remembering the last time he had seen it. Leaning back, he still had the kid's lower half pinned.

Of course, this didn't stop the blonde from attempting freedom. His fist made a pass at James's abs, earning himself yet an additional smack.

"Well, that sort of hurt. Losin' yer touch, huh?" James relished in the stupidity of the jock, casually undoing his own jeans, and unleashing what was already an erection. "Aww…we can't play the measurin' game if yer not hard, Kendall."

His eyes widened at the thought. "N-No, James, I'm not…not-"

"GAY?! Well guess what sweetheart, I wasn't either. But," he sang, "someone told everyone that I was…" He trailed off, grinning that sinister smile before rubbing his thumb over Kendall's tip, squeezing his hand down until he had Kendall's little red balls cupped in his hand, pulsing with the owner's hard breathing. He watched as Kendall heaved, possibly curling his toes at the intimacy. Underneath of him, he had a big, bad bully tilting his head back on the pillows and panting. Just for me, he thought. "Mm, feels good, right baby?"

"I'm not your baby, I'm- ooh…" The thick vein under his cock received a strong stroke. Kendall's body wracked at the motion, interrupting his breaths into shards that barely signaled his distress. There was no way he was going to like this; there was no way in hell he was turning into a fag. "Get off me, fluff."

James raised a perfect brow. "Fluff, huh? You wanna see fluff?" He brought his hand to the hem of Kendall's jeans, artistically working the briefs and denim low enough to expose the soft, blonde curls of Kendall's crotch. The brunette completely palmed the hair, petting him almost. "Someone's pretty fluffy for such a big," he licked his lips, "tough guy, aren't we?" At that he grabbed a fistful, tugging hard on the curls and relishing in the shriek that came from it. "Why weren't you this cute in school, huh, K-Dog?"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" He was getting pretty pissed by now. In no way should he- a star athlete and renowned ladykiller- be this vulnerable, nevertheless be vulnerable to a raging stalker-homo that had no one to talk to but his mommy. "How is she, anyway?"

James's smile faltered only from the confusion. "Who?"

His lips curled back, the right canine glimmering. "Mommy dearest."

Adrenaline shot through James's veins at the mentioning coming from the guy's mouth. He saw red in those dancing green eyes and fully understood that, if need be, he could murder Kendall on this very bed, only minutes separating he and a closed airway. But that would mean less fun for James, and that wasn't exactly his lifestyle any longer. "You better watch yourself, Kendall."

In through his nose, out through his mouth and a steady rise of his chest: so far the addressed remained calm. He thought he was gonna get back at me. "Or what? You better think about what she's gonna do when she finds out what a bad boy yer bein." He had expected more of a reaction than that, but he would take the eye-shift that he got. "Picture her face when you tell her."

The rich guy simmered, holding that steady gaze into Kendall's asshole-of-a-face. Brooke hadn't really been in his mind until Kendall had stirred the pot, it was true. It kind of put his actions into perspective; he was essentially assaulting another human being. It wasn't a game and it wasn't a joke; he was committing a crime. James's hand came away from the hockey captain's hairs, taking the other away from his cock. "Yeah…" he trailed off, looking Kendall straight in the eyes as he said it. "I mean, if she found out that I had you up here..." Kendall's wrists were immobilized to the mattress, James's face inches from the terrified, paler one at its mercy. "She'd say you fucking deserve every last bit a this."

James mauled him. Teeth ground against the captain's neck, and abused hips beat against their sluttier counterparts. Kendall was yowling at the incursion, thrashing as much as he could with a man on top of him that exceeded his own weight by forty pounds. Pleas tore from his throat like wasps, unwanted and positively stinging to the nerves. The attacker refused to have much more of it, and so allowed one of the whiner's wrists release as he covered his mouth.

Kendall immediately pried at the grip. The burn in his neck raced from just under his ear to his collarbone, singed by every tooth-mark and salivated signature that James had carved. His cock was throbbing, grotesquely begging for more attention from his enemy with oozes of precum. It was mortifying, to feel himself pulsing at the unwanted touch of another, especially of that whom he had wronged so badly. He knew James had a list of reasons for acting this way.

And that's what scared him.

The muffled cries erupted into James' palm, causing the guy to chuckle as he lifted himself back to his knees. "Aww, Kendall…look how big yer eyes are." He winked. "Welp, time fer the measurin' game." Kendall was screaming his throat dry again, punching James's right peck as mightily as he could attempt when James clutched their dicks together. He could actually feel James's beat. "Uh-oh, Kendall…" His eyes flashed with triumph, amusement and just a little bit more. "looks like I wonnn."

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU GET OFF OF ME FUCKFUCKFUCK!"

"Gosh…" He squeezed them, his eyes fluttering at the power and the pleasure. "so greedy for attention. You always were, though."

"I DON'T WANT IT I DON'T WANT IT I DON'T WANT IT I DON'T!"

"Liar-liar, pants off." James hummed to himself, pulling Kendall's belt from its loops. "Remember when—hey!" The blonde had launched his upper-body at James, only to be palm-struck dead-center in the chest. He hit the bed again, letting out an 'oomph' at the shock to his system. "Anyways, like I was saying." James's jaw set hard. "Remember when you hit me with this in freshmen year?"

Kendall looked positively devastated.

"Don't worry…I'm not gonna hit ya in the back a the head with it." He smiled. "Lemme see those pretty little hands, there, Kendall."

He tucked them under his back.

The brunette clucked his tongue. "Tut-tut."

The ex-bully had his arms locked underneath of himself, still panting and eyes frighteningly-wide. He tensed his biceps when James's hands curled around them, prolonging whatever was going to happen with the belt. Yet the brunette only smirked, for try as he might, Kendall's arms twisted like pipe-cleaners by James's management.

"Good boy." The croon was juxtaposition to his ministrations, briskly binding the other's pale wrists. When finished, he examined his work, prying at Kendall's forearms in the most painful manner, just to be certain that he wouldn't break free and ruin his moment. "Perfect." With a lick of his lips, he eyed his enemy. The tearstains sitting on his cheekbones made the image. He could still remember all of the mornings that he had sat in his room, crying under the covers because he had awoken forty-five minutes before his alarm, and he couldn't bear the reality of another day at school. Another day at Kendall's clemency. Another bruise, another name, another sting to the heart and another kick to the shins. "Wish you could still do it, huh?"

"Wh—"

"Ask me 'what', Kendall." They stared each other in the pupils, staking out for upshot. Kendall's chest was heaving: so was James's.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

Kendall was silent. He looked down, tracing the folds in the duvet with sight. There was gold and scarlet; something "mask" or "demack" or whatever he'd heard his sister mention. It didn't distract him enough, though. Before he mumbled it, his cheeks heated at the idea. "Are…are-you-gonna-rape-me?"

James huffed. "You don't get to do that." The smaller kid's eyebrows twitched together but he didn't say anything, which James took as confusion. "You don't get ta make me feel bad."

He glanced up. "I am?"

"Not enough."

"Oh." He looked back down.

"You fucked my life up, so I'm gonna fuck you back."

"Yanno—"

"What?!"

The blonde pursed his lips. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

A smack.

"OW!"

"YES YOU DID."

"N—"

"HOW COULD YOU NOT?!"

Kendall looked away, far off at nothing in the present. "I…I guess I didn't think about you not liking it."

What the fuck kind of way does he think this is gonna help him out? "What were you thinking about then?"

He shrugged. "How funny everyone thought it was."

James sat stunned. Absolutely stunned in place above this guy and flashing back to every moment of his educational career. Every dose of pain and sorrow that he had experienced was only felt by himself, for for all else involved, it was just the audience that mattered. As if he weren't even there. "I'm a person."

"I know you are."

"No you don't." He shook his head gravely, lifting the hem of Kendall's shirt, bunching it at his armpits. Before the hockey player could speak, he jacked it past his head to settle around his wrists, allowing himself to enjoy the anxiety that was creeping back onto Kendall's countenance. "And you never will, unless I do this."

"James I missed you when you left."

The taller man's shirt dropped from his hand, the only noise in the room being that of the light garment meeting the carpet. He was enraged. "One more lie, Kendall. I might have even gone easier, too." He punched the bed. "But you just don't fucking stop."

"It's not like I fucking said I love you! Jesus! Don't fucking accuse me of shit I didn't do—"

"LIKE YOU DIDN'T TO ME?!"Was the bellow that paired with a finger to his own bare chest.

"I just noticed that you left! GOD!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, KENDALL!" And he slapped him the hardest yet across the face.

"FUCK! FUCK YOU!"

"WANNA TELL ME MORE LIES BEFORE I DO THAT FOR YA?!"

"NOT FUCKING LYING!"

"SO WHAT, YOU'RE GAY FOR ME, NOW?!"

"I DON'T KN—" He clamped his lips tight. Why the fuck did I say that?! I'm not fucking gay! "You tricked me!"

"I…err…" I think I'm really mad right now.

"Holy shit now you probly think I want you to rape me!"

In all honesty, what was James supposed to say? What was he even supposed to think? This entire night had taken so many turns that he couldn't even follow who was actually in control and who had the most right to antagonism. Just once, once, he was going to have the upper hand. James was going to call the shots and was going to make Kendall feel his pain. Now he was lying there having a sexuality crisis? "Kendall what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't…James leave me alone." He turned his head, closing his eyes because he didn't like that hard-stare that was all over him. Nor did he need the James 2.0 abs in his peripherals; it wasn't exactly helping the gay thing.

"Do you think you are gay?"

He scrunched his face. "No fucking way, can we stop talking about this? Can I go home now? I think we've shared our feelings enough."

And it clicked for James. "I knew it."

A green eye peeped open. "Knew what?"

He edged back, resolved and admittedly a tad happy that the night wasn't for naught afterall. "Lyin' out yer ass."

"This again?"

"And I almost fucking felt bad for you." At that he jerked Kendall's jeans and boxers all the way down his legs, sneering at the scandalized expression he received.

"HEY!"

"But I don't." Slowly he allowed his pants to slide down, the boxers as well. His dick twitched when Kendall squirmed, feebly struggling to escape from the man that was crawling up his body.

He could have flipped over and ran on his knees but…well his ass wasn't the safest of his body parts today. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Because you left me twisted up in the swings in fourth grade."

"N—"

"Because you filled my locker with pudding in fifth grade."

"Okay, tha—"

"Kendall we've gone over this enough." He grabbed his hips and yanked him two feet closer, wrapping himself in the bully from his childhood. "You don't want this, just like I didn't want to go to school." He stuck his fingers in his mouth and pulled them out, dripping with saliva. "You lookin' at my junk, Knight?!"

"James—"

"What're we on a first name basis now?!" He jammed his fingers into him, watching him squirm.

"OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-JAMES."

"Boo-fucking-hoo, whore. Like you ever felt bad when you did this ta all the girls you fucked."

"What?"

"Like you ever felt bad when you—" It was so sick: the ugly, soaring feeling that James got when his fingers made Kendall shriek in pain. He loved how grotesque his face became. He loved how his ribcage was reaching for the ceiling when he writhed. He loved that this was numbing years of his own pain at Kendall's expense. "—tripped me down the stairs or humiliated me in the showers."

He was panting, little beads of sweat already on his brow and over his thudding chest. "James."

"Not so tough now, huh?"

"James I can't breathe."

The referred's flashbacks were really reeling now, and one in particular was proposing something new. I'm not that bad, am I? Images of his eighth-grade hallway clouded his current reality, replacing the mess underneath of him with a sharp fist in his gut and a slicing forearm pinning him to the lockers. He hadn't been able to breathe properly until that night, his excuse to his mother being a 'suspicion of bronchitis'. Never could he forget what it was like to have that irritated-looking boy bruising his windpipe. No one cared how hard James cried, none of those boys in the hallway saw need to relieve him of Kendall's oppressive hold. He was irrelevant. "Hurts so much." He had whispered, and the tidbit escaped his mouth now, for he was so caught up in himself that he hadn't realized that it was out loud.

The blonde broke him of the nostalgia. "Y-Yeah.."

James blinked down at him, twisting his fingers and adding a third. "Yeah?"

"Y-Yeah..James pl—" The inhalation turned to sandpaper when James's hand wrapped around his throat. His eyes bulged and both arms came crashing onto James's skull. He was panicking: he had to do something.

"FUCK."

"St- St-ah—ahp!"

"KENDALL, you little shit! That hurt!" His prey was jerking all over the place, desperate for oxygen and perhaps a little space. After all, James was controlling all of his orifices. "What's the matter? You don't like this?"

"Pl-plea—"

How magnetizing it was, that lithe body to the eyes. The way his triceps twitched and his chest pumped under pressure, every now and then a hint at abdominal muscles etched into such soft skin. He probably didn't even need any Diamond-Shine Sun Repair Lotion after he went to all those douche-bag beach parties. Or maybe he did use it, James wasn't an expert, though close to it. He could, however, tell that Kendall tanned often from the distinct line segmenting his hips. The guy was so naturally pale, it could have almost bequeathed him with an innocent glow, were it not for the red pulsing contrast poised above it. "Kendall…" James purred. "Oh you like this a lot, don't you, baby?"

"B—bee—" He wheezed.

"Yes…" Manual tendons relaxed and the blonde's vision swirled with the influx of new air he was finally granted. "Kendall you are so fucking hard, I'm pretty sure yer harder than I am right now. Look at you…" He stretched and teased his hole only to find that its effect was obsolete. "Ready, huh?"

The bully couldn't even speak. Truthfully he wasn't interested in the way James's dick was rubbing his ass so long as he could breathe again. Sure it had been…exciting, but a portion of that thrill had been the reality of death. He had been complete property during that one or two minutes of God-knows-what. Though, much more frightening than the prospects of death and enslavement was the hunch that he hadn't been opposed to the treatment, and that unexplored side of himself was much more terrifying than any mortal disturbance. What the fuck is with me?

"Feel sorry yet? You look like you're thinking, which is totally new."

His mind registered that that needed a snappy comeback. Something to make James think twice about belittling him so much. "Sh-Shut up." Oh fucking brilliant.

"Obviously that moment's gone." He tested the waters and breached Kendall less than an inch, just to see how he took it. "Wanna know why I'm going so slow?"

"Not really."

James chuckled at his own scheme, so high on success that it made him giddy. "Want you ta like it."

"Fat chance." Oh no.

"Seriously, how good is that? You hated me all those years and now I'm gonna fucking force you ta be obsessed with my cock."

"Yer face is creepin' me out."

James pushed in farther. "I mean really, you like sex, right?" His plan was so close to coming true, he couldn't stop himself from babbling.

"Not with you." Girls-Boobs-Girls-Boobs.

"But you will." He punctured balls-deep, unable to stop himself from comparing Kendall to a kicked puppy. "Fuck, yer gonna write my name on all yer lecture notes." Retraction. "And jack off ta my Facebook pictures. Not that I have many, since I don't have any friends'r anything."

He had to hide the alarm setting in. "That's kinda extreme."

"Sure, pretend you don't care." At that moment he made sure to shove Kendall back using only his hips, sending his legs flying up before they clutched James harder. "Make up yer mind, Knight."

"Shut the fuck up." He's not right. "Jus' don't want… a concussion from the headboard."

"Mmhm. Burn yet?"

God yes. "Don't flatter yerself."

"Good fer you I guess." James was serious about Kendall liking his treatment. He wanted him to positively shiver when they passed each other on the sidewalk. He wanted Kendall to snivel alone in his room over how much he missed the heavy drag of his dick. When this was over, this guy should picture this moment right here: lying on his back, drowning in sweet agony and the saltiness of James's muscles.

So he had to make it perfect. He had to embody the entire pornography industry, and that's why he was rolling his body into Kendall's as deliberately as he was. Every curvature of his spine was executed in order to reconstruct the kid's life around a new obsession.

The worst part for the subject was that it was working. Addiction fostered in the brush of the brunette's lips on his throat. Inexplicable desire electrocuted his nerves when his sloppy hair was being tugged from his scalp. Magma bubbled inside of him at the contact James's belly button made with his cock. He didn't want it so much, that he needed it. It felt so illicit that he wanted to keeping trying it just because he never willingly could. Maybe he did deserve this; maybe he did deserve being turned into a fag by his own personal punching bag. Maybe this happened to everyone.

Maybe it should.

"Don't close yer eyes, Kendall. Want you ta see me."

"So wrong."

He tugged. "Open."

"Sorry." He obeyed, having no other options at his disposal.

James continued to undulate, massaging his enemy from the inside. He observed his face as he observed him back, noting the shudder he received when he lowered onto his elbows. Their stomachs were glued now, the smaller's dick trapped in their fight.

The battle itself was the most sinister of its kind, waging utterly inconspicuous to the outside world. Only could the drafted members detect the unfriendliness of the war, trapped in the trenches of their minds as they fought for mental rule over the other. Completely internal, the outlet was so subliminal that careful scrutiny was required. James was licking him now, actually licking this man that he still said that he hated. He wanted him wrecked and torn from his original pedestal, his rankings burned as he became a prisoner of his army. The weaponry of his fingers at his nipples and his teeth at his jaw were falling the blonde's frontlines. The dig of his nails into Kendall's abused ass was giving him the momentary advantage.

It was a constant struggle, though, for the other's side wasn't budging so easily—however admittedly gradual. He still refused to stand down. The furrow of his eyebrows gave solid defense to any inkling of surrender. A few times he had futilely attempted to use his knees to push at James's torso. What he hadn't thought of was that performing such gymnastics only opened his asshole farther, gaining only a smirk and a touch harder to his prostate from the invader. Needless to say, it hadn't been his best strategy. He had moaned, full out moaned, which didn't help his case in proving that he wasn't enjoying the attention. So he glared and grit out a small "I hate you" through the flame-thrower of his emerald irises.

"I'll bet you do."

"I do. So. Much."

"Yer so convincing." He murmured. James could tell that he was getting to him. It was obvious that when he trailed his tongue up his jaw and to the corner of his gaping mouth, the boy didn't want to jerk his head the way he did. That when he grabbed his face and forced him to take the hard kiss, he was only doing him a favor. The guy wasn't broken enough to crumble, but it was coming. It had to. A sudden arch of the slender body told him so.

Fuck, I'm not gay. He drugged me. Fuck he drugged me, sick bastard. I took roofies, it's gotta be it. Fuck. He liked the way that James smelled, and the way that he didn't have to rush through this in order to prove his point. He liked that he was fighting him back. It was always so boring in the later years when he wouldn't cry or ask stupid questions regarding Kendall's behavior. Being on top was no fun if it was guaranteed.

Being on top had to be earned.

Even if his mind had been clear enough to inquire it, he wasn't sure if he could admit to some sort of subconscious crush. He honestly didn't think so; he had tried to picture himself with guys before; it grossed him out. He thought about sucking cock and holding hands in the park and even taking it from behind, but anything along the homosexual line repulsed him. This though. This he could handle. He could handle James showing him how much hurt he caused. Kendall liked knowing that this rage was curdled by their history. It made sense.

James hummed. "How long you think it's gonna take?"

Kendall mewled. He loved how his skin vibrated from that voice. It signaled that he was reduced to insanity, though, because this nerd's voice had never turned him on before. "Wh-What?" A gasp jumped from his mouth at a nip to his collarbone.

"Ta—" The old victim held their hips together while he quickened his pace, feeling elation and redemption building in his waist. "Ta clean out yer ass." He bit down on his shoulder and came, so close to crying yet refusing to let go. He had done it. He had taken his childhood villain and filled him with his own excrement. It was so dirty, it was so fucked up. Kendall deserved it, to carry his seed back home with him. James was free.

What he didn't initially realize was that Kendall had climaxed as well. It didn't matter, though, for a quick shower could fix that. The scratches on his back could be easily concealed; Kendall's neck needed a department store of scarves to hide beneath.

Plus, he had gotten a great orgasm out of it. His eyes were still rolled upward as he became deadweight on the boy. A slight mewing was breaking the rhythm of his heartbeat-soundtrack, but he let it go. If being honest, it was the one of the lovelier sounds of the evening. He licked at his bruises and bites, sated by the iron and salt. "Mmphh."

Kendall whined. He wasn't sure if he himself needed a good cry or a good kiss. Probably both. Perhaps two-hundred pounds less of suffocating weight would be splendid. "James. Big."

"You askin' fer favors?"

Oh, yeah. "N-No." He dropped his legs, unable to even feel his quad muscles, let alone work them.

"You should go." James traced his thumb down the boy's jaw. "I'm done with you."

That put more weight on his chest that the body did. "O-Oh. Okay."

"Yeah, go."

"Okay…James I'm trapped."

Why am I not getting up? I hate him, he made my life shit. I need to get up. He rolled onto his side, slipping his cock out of a wincing, fucked-up aggressor. "There."

"My hands." Don't let me go.

Hazel eyes assessed the other's compromise. "Right." Large hands gripped the smaller's, wrestling the shirt away from the belt and taking a few moments to remove all of the bondages. "There, now yer ready ta go."

Kendall tried to sit up and rub his wrists, only able to carry out the latter because he ached from the waist down. "I'm…no I'm not."

"I don't care if you can't walk."

Another slap in the face; he had a pretty significant collection at this point. "No…well…I mean I can't…?" He looked up, pleading with the addressed in attempt to avoid voicing it. This really sucked. He wasn't even going to question these stupid post-coital emotions he was having, refusing to remember that they were there before the climax. "Please?"

A cold-stare masked the confusion. "What?"

He dropped his eyes to utter his whisper. "I wanna stay."

"You—you, I'm sorry, what?"

A look back up. "I wanna…just for the night?"

Holy shit…it worked. But…no. No, it worked. That's good. "No."

He was silent. Of course he wasn't going to let him stay; what an idiotic request to make. His cheeks flushed with his ears, shame swallowing him as he worked through the most diversely potent mixture of pain that he had ever experienced, sliding off of the wet sheets and collecting his clothes. He was careful with his boxers and pants, unable to recollect normal sensation in any of his body parts. The cum sliding from his hole dampened his boxers, but luckily it was dark enough that he could probably make it to his dorm without anyone spotting the spots. His arms were even shot, and he definitely bared it in pulling on his shirt. His back felt like it had been broken and reconstructed with nothing but duct-tape and broken-glass infused glue. It was all awful, yet unable to measure up to the whipping of James's eyes on him as he left. Walking to the elevator was cringe-worthy, limping to his building was excruciating, undressing all over again was uncomfortable.

Nothing, though, could measure up to the anguish that he underwent when he realized that he didn't even want to shower James off of his battered body. The tears on his pillow attested to it, and if only the brunette could have witnessed the phenomenon, perhaps he could have granted himself a few hours of sleep.