AN: Yo, everyone! Chapter Five, appreciate it, cause it kicked my ass all over the place. Seriously, this chapter just didn't want to come out of my head. Elitz's first time, epically broken into two parts for your viewing pleasure.

Warnings: Flashback, violence, non-con/dub-con (what's the difference, seriously?)

Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or my name is Sally Marie Johnson. And it's not.

Chapter Five

Strike Me Down

Part I

"I'm in his head. Right where I want to be."

~Elijah Goldsworthy, Try Honesty Part 2

Turns out, Fitz's head is a lot more fucked than Eli had given the cretin credit for. Which is why they're out in the alley behind the Dot trying to beat each other to death. Well, maybe not to death... They've managed to avoid nut shots at the very least.

Eli's trying to keep up, and he's not doing so bad, getting in a few blows of his own to match Fitz's. He doesn't have as much raw power, but he's definately got the larger boy topped with speed. Fitz's sledgehammer fist slams into his gut and Eli can't breathe. He stumbles back, tries to force air into suddenly uncooperative lungs. Fitz lunges forward, hands fist in the material of his shirt, a sharp tug, a heavy thud. Eli's lying facedown in the dirt.

Oxygen rushes in just in time to get forced out in the form of a choked off scream by Fitz's kick to the spine. Oh, mother of Jesus, Eli's afraid that Fitz might have actually done some damage. Hands on him again, because apparently Fitz isn't content to just kick him while he's down. A sickening swirl of motion that sends his head reeling, and Eli's staring up at Fitz's burning eyes as the older boy moves to straddle him.

"I fucking hate you." Fitz spits out, all anger and hate and...confusion? Then he does the last thing Eli ever expected.

Fitz crashes his lips to his.

Eli lies there, half under the older boy, paralyzed with shock. He couldn't have responded to Fitz's kiss even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to. Fitz pulls away, licks his lips, searches Eli's eyes. He must not find what he's looking for, because he bashes Eli's face, before kissing him again.

Realizing that this could very well in a situation he wants absolutely no part in, Eli begins to struggle. Fitz refuses to give him even an inch, rather he presses even closer. Their chests are touching now, as well as something that Eli would really rather pretend isn't...because Fitz is hard. For him. And that is something Eli can't begin to make sense of.

One hand stays knotted firmly in his shirt and Eli wishes the other would too as he feels it slip up and under his shirt to graze his bruising abs. He gasps out in pain and Fitz takes advantage, forcing his tongue into his mouth. The hand continues to wander while Fitz's tongue explores, darting over every crevice of Eli's mouth.

Eli flails, deperate to extricate himself from Fitz's grasp, to escape from everything Fitz is taking from him. Everything he can never take back.

His hands find purchase on Fitz's chest and he heaves the bully from him. "Get the fuck off me!"

He rolls away, springs to his feet, eyes searching for a way out. Any way out. Fitz looks up at him, dazed, confused. Lost. it throws Eli for a loop. And in that moment of uncomfortable insight, two things happened. First, Fitz surged to his feet, grabbed Eli by the collar, slammed him into the wall, and stated coldly that that hadn't happened.

"You hear me?" Fitz punches him in the face, harsh and angry. "It didn't happen." Then Fitz is gone, running down the alley to God knows where.

And the second thing? Icy realization coils in Eli's stomach. He can feel it creeping through him. It claws at his heart with the poisonous talons of this horrifying and sickening knowledge. Knowledge he'd give anything not to know.

Fitz is in love with him.

And not the nice, when I think of him I smile way. In the terrifying, I want to own him, hold him down until he loves me too desperate sort of way. Mixed liberally with an excess of self-hatred redirected straight at Eli.

Eli turns to the side and throws up. It doesn't help. He feels sick. He cannot deal with this. He just can't.

Eli bolts upright in bed, skin soaked with cold sweat and heart pounding. He pulls in deep, frantic breaths. But he can't seem to calm himself, to remind himself that it was only a dream, a memory. Fitz isn't here, now, and he can't hurt him.

Unconsciously, a hand moves to his bludgeoning black eye, then falls down to his busted lip which has split open again in his sleep and begun to bleed.

He can't hurt me now, he thinks, but what's stopping him tomorrow?