A/N: This fic is so long omfg...

Um... Okay, hey! I didn't lie! The wait between last update and this wasn't as long as the wait between chapters 31 and 32 so there!

I'm outside by the pool watching the dogs chase each up and down the deck. It's way distracting. Not very conducive towards good proofreading though, so if there are typos, blame them.

Mentions of Tumblr and Twitter, please don't sue. Apologies for more smut (oh god I'm sorry, this wasn't in the original plot but it's these two whores and they can't be stopped!) Oh! Shout out to the guest who reviewed on the last chapter and pointed out how part of it was a lil dub-con. Once again, I honestly don't really fully pay attention to what happens, I just type what I'm told and these guys do what they want. But seriously, amazing point that you brought up and it really made me think a lot...

Anyhoo, enjoy this update. And I swear eventually the sex will stop! (Possibly, maybe, eventually... sorry...)

Basically, they needed to not be allowed to be alone together in showers, just like they couldn't be left alone in dressing rooms.

But, hey, on the bright side, Kendall could cross "shower sex" off his bucket list.

If he had a bucket list. Which was a shame that he didn't, 'cause he'd have a ton of shit ticked off that weekend.

Shower sex? Check.

Fly across the country to visit a friend? Double check.

Hook up with a celeb? Quadruple check.

Or was it more than four times? Did fooling around, oral sex, fingering, etc etc, count?

Did he care?

Definitely not.

Especially not at that moment, when James was currently trying to pound him into the tiled wall around the shower.

It was actually pretty damn impressive, the singer able to hold up the teen, skinny legs draped over muscular arms, lifting and dropping him at an impressive speed as his own hips moved back and forth, thrusting into the younger male hard. Kendall's arms were wrapped around the larger male's neck, back sliding up and down the wet tile, head rearing back as he moaned loudly. And with the brunet holding onto him, doing all the work, all the blond could do was hold on for the ride.

And fucking hell, what a ride.

The angle was perfect, the head of the other male's dick rubbing against his prostate with every thrust, hitting it in a way he didn't think was possible. James wasn't taking it easy, slamming into the smaller male, making him feel every pound, every thrust, every move. Kendall's hole was twitching, his entire body shaking, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, the air being shoved out of him every time he was brought down, his ass slamming against the other male's hips. He took all of it, every relentless pound, every inch of the elder's cock, the brunet bottoming out inside of him, going balls deep, filling him beyond his limits, just like before. The blond wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it, but he knew for a fact he didn't want it to stop.

"Shit!" he cried out at one particularly harsh pound, his eyes damn near rolling to the back of his head. His nails dug into the singer's neck, hole clenching around his cock even more, and he relished the growled out groan he got in response.

James moved a hand down, leaving Kendall's leg draped over his elbow, palming the smaller male's ass. Reaching down, he rubbed his index finger around the puckered skin, massaging it. A small "ah!" noise left the blond, the sting of it too much. He tried lifting himself up to get away from it, but couldn't, the position of his legs rendering him unable to do anything but just hang there.

"Too much," he hissed, wincing, green eyes locked onto darkened hazel ones.

The brunet nodded, moving his finger, but still gripping onto the other male's ass, squeezing. Harsh pants left both of them as the singer continued his actions, continued thrusting his hips up, continued slamming the teen down on his dick. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't "making love" by any stretch of the imagination—mostly because Kendall was pretty sure love wasn't involved in anything between them—this was fucking, pure and simple, a taking, an owning.

And fucking hell did he love it.

He wrapped his arms around the larger male tighter, pulling himself closer, water slicked chests rubbing. His fingers tangled in brunet locks, his head alongside the other male's, chin bouncing on a broad shoulder with each pound. The singer's arms went around his lean waist, holding him close, continuing to move his hips at the same relentless pace as the younger male wrapped his now released legs around his wide waist. The teen wasn't sure how much more he could take, his hole hurting, his arms tired, his lungs burning, his toes hurting from how badly they were curled. But despite the pain, the hurting, he also didn't want it to end. The way things between the two of them, it seemed like the only time they truly connected was through sex.

Then again, the only time James opened up was after, so there was that.

But there was something to be said about the way the two of them came together, the way they both somehow seemed to know how to get to each other, the right buttons to push and when, the perfect way to cause the other person more pleasure than they thought possible. It was incredible, mind-blowing, something Kendall and his cynical self believed was proof that maybe something was meant to be between the two of them, maybe they were supposed to be together. He'd never believed in any of that shit before, never believed in cheesy shit like "soul mates" or "made for each other", but now he did.

Especially when James hit against his prostate just so.

The blond let out a noise that definitely wasn't a scream, head rearing back and hitting the tiled wall, eyes closed. His hands slipped, fingers now in a white knuckle grip on the back of the brunet's neck, as he felt himself get closer. Using his arms as leverage, he tried pulling himself up and down as much as he could, adding to the friction, struggling to make his orgasm come sooner.

The singer's thrusts were erratic, out of rhythm, a sign he was nearly there himself. He rested his forehead in the crook of the teen's neck, harsh pants ghosting over damp skin. His arms were wrapped in a death grip around the smaller male, holding him still, pounding into him at his own pace as he took his own pleasure. A couple thrusts later, and the blond could feel the brunet coming, could feel it in the moan that was growled out against his collarbone, could feel it in the way the larger male was shaking, could feel it in the pulsing inside him as the condom was filled.

James paused for a moment, wrapping his left arm tighter around the smaller male, gripping onto the teen's side as his right arm moved. His fingers wrapped around the blond's cock, stroking him, causing Kendall to gasp then moan. The younger male started moving once again, trying to thrust up into the fist that held him, knowing it wouldn't take long. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, fingers of one hand gripping the singer's neck as the others tangled in wet, dark locks. Soon after, his orgasm hit, his come lazily spurting out onto the other male's hand, onto their stomachs.

He wasn't sure how much longer they remained like that, James still stroking him, he with his head against the tile as he came down. But soon he felt his legs being unwrapped, his body being placed on the floor, his come being washed off both of them. He leaned back against the wall, left arm still draped over the larger male's shoulder, using it to hold himself up. His knees were weak, legs barely able to hold himself up, and he felt like he finally understood the phrase "fucked out". Because, honestly, if he was asked to do anything except pass out where he stood, he'd... well, he'd fucking pass out, that's what he'd do.

"Hey." The pop star's voice was soft, a hand stroking his face, pushing wet hair back from his eyes before cupping his cheek.

Kendall slowly opened his eyes, the lids heavy and only going up halfway. The water had been shut off, the two of them in a cocoon of steam and sex as they remained in the shower. He let out a small "hmm?", all he was capable of at that moment, a small lazy smile on his face.

James looked at him with concern in his dark eyes, seeming to be fighting a smirk of his own. "You okay?"

The blond nodded his head, feeling it rubbing the tiled wall, feeling it getting heavier as fatigue starting weighing him down. "Yeah. Sleepy."

A small laugh left the brunet as he stepped closer, hand still cupping the younger male's face. "You wanna take a nap?"

More nodding, the teen feeling his eyelids drift down more, barely able to hold them up and not finding any desire to actually want to.

The pop star let out a quiet "okay", kissing the younger male's nose before turning and sliding open the shower door. Quickly getting rid of the used condom, he grabbed a towel, drying himself then the smaller male off. Although it was more like "made them less wet", but whatever. Technicality, schmechnicality.

He finally lost the battle between his eyelids and gravity, letting them fall completely closed as he slumped back against the wall. An arm wrapped around his lower back, another behind his knees, and he felt himself being lifted up, carried bridal style out the shower and into the bedroom part of the suite. His usual protests were kept silent, too tired to point out that he wasn't an invalid nor was he a li'l bitch who needed to be carried like a chick. Besides, this kept him from having to actually walk, something he wasn't entirely sure he was capable of at that moment.

Maybe he was an invalid. Fucked so hard he was paralyzed from the ass down.

At least temporarily anyway.

Kendall felt his body being slightly jangled with the other male's walking, his hip bumping against chiseled abs. The motions made his entrance hurt, but he figured he could just sleep it off. He hoped he could anyway.

He was laid down gently on the bed, instantly curling up on his side as he nestled his head on the pillow, settling into a comfy position. He heard the sounds of the mattress creaking, fabric shuffling, more creaking. The sheet settled over him, covering his cooling skin up to his waist, before large arms wrapped around him, pulling him against a broad torso. A small smile played on his lips as James held him close, the brunet nuzzling into the back of his neck, kissing where it met his spine.

Exhaustion hit him hard, grabbing hold of all four limbs and pulling him down, dragging him into the pits of a deep slumber. He didn't bother fighting it, felt no desire to try and stay awake due to any important conversation, no life-altering confessions he needed to be alert for.

"Hey. Kendall?"

Or he could be wrong.

He opened his mouth to let out a response of some form, only to be beaten to it.

"Never mind." Another kiss to the top of his spine and then James settled onto the pillow, still holding the blond close.

Kendall wanted to question, wanted to ask what he was about to say, wanted to tell him it was okay and to just go ahead and speak. Only he couldn't. He'd fallen asleep soon after.

There was nothing in the world that was more obnoxious than whatever tone James had chosen as his alarm.

The singer laughed when Kendall voiced his opinion, pushing himself up on an elbow, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his right hand. James' arm moved from around his waist, reaching for the iPhone that sat on the nightstand, shutting off the electronic noise, only to have the device beep again.

"Fuckin' Logan," he muttered, fully sitting up, hazel eyes locked onto the screen.

It was the blond's turn to chuckle, rolling onto his back and stretching, arms above his head. And, okay, that was a mistake.

The singer was distracted by replying to his assistant's text, not seeing the wince that had formed on the teen's face. He was aching. Bad. His hole felt stretched beyond possibility, a burning he'd never experienced before. Not to that degree anyway. Definitely fucked out. His ass clearly needed a break, clearly needed a lotta time to recuperate from the intense amount of stretching it had gone through, the pounding it had taken. Maybe there was such a thing as too much sex.

He turned his head to the right, seeing the other male standing up, getting a good look at smooth skin, well-formed muscles, and a very nice ass.

Okay, maybe there wasn't such a thing as too much sex. He'd been known to be wrong.

Sitting up and putting pressure on his ass proved his first thought was right. He needed a break from being fucked.

"What'd Logan want?" he questioned, shoving a hand through his hair, pushing the dirty blond locks back from his forehead, feeling his hair stand up.

"Double-checking that I actually set a warning alarm so we have enough time to get ready to go to dinner," James replied, putting the iPhone back on the nightstand before turning to the teen. "Nice hair."

Kendall pulled at the locks, making them stick up more. "Yeah?"

The brunet smirked, placing one knee on the bed and leaning towards the younger male. "Very sexy," he stated before kissing him. "And as much as I wanna prove how arousing I find it, we gotta go."

The blond wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed by the lack of time for yet another round, but made sure the latter was what showed on his face. The last thing he wanted was to appear weak before the other male, to actually seem like a li'l bitch. Being carried like one was one thing; actually being one was another thing entirely.

James let out a chuckle, smirk on his face as he bent forward and kissed the younger male's nose, something that seemed to be becoming a habit—one that Kendall wasn't entirely sure he was cool with, considering how cutesy and coupley it was—before straightening into a standing position. "We gotta go in about twenty," he started, scratching absently at his stomach. "So you might wanna get up and get dressed."

Kendall cocked an eyebrow, wondering why the fuck they had been woken up so damn early. Okay, five-thirty in the evening wasn't exactly "early" by anyone's standards, but there was no need to allow for that much time to get ready to go somewhere. He could be dressed and out the door in about five minutes, if that long.

The singer turned around and headed to the bathroom, humming a tune the teen didn't recognize as he went, not seeming to have a care in the world.

Bastard.

Making sure the elder male was focused elsewhere, the younger gingerly got up off the bed, wincing slightly. He had no idea how he was gonna hide the fact that he was hurting, but his pride pretty much demanded that he figure it the fuck out, refusing to be made to look like a pussy in front of the guy he was into. Bad enough he confessed to his whiny beliefs that everyone would leave, bad enough he acted like a chick and was clingy all the time. He didn't wanna show he was physically weak as well as mentally and emotionally.

But jesus fucking christ did walking suck.

He thought back to all those years of playing hockey, of playing hurt, of being bruised up and bleeding and bandaged all to hell, yet still being out on the ice and pretending like he wasn't sore. That moment was just like all those ones. He could fake it until he believed it, until his mind was able to actually be convinced that he wasn't hurting, wasn't sore, wasn't feeling like his ass was on fire and that he was still being ripped apart.

Okay, yeah, thinking about that wasn't helping. At all.

Ignoring the pain—yet still being careful—he headed over to his duffel. Squatting down seemed to hurt a lil less than bending over, so he did that, grabbing a pair of clean boxers and socks, before standing back up again. He put those on then made his way around the room, grabbing the jeans and tee he had on earlier, staring at the "Funeral for a Friend" logo on his shirt before slipping it over his head. He had worse shirts really. Carlos had flat out told him his Mushroomhead and Slipknot tees gave him legit nightmares. Laughing at the Latino probably didn't help reassure him, but seriously, it was too funny not to.

Fully dressed—including his beanie—he sat on the bed, slipping his boots on and tying up the laces. From where he was, he could see into the bathroom, could see James in front of the mirror over the counter, fixing his hair, smoothing his bangs out and laying the strands flat.

"I like your bed head better," Kendall commented, pulling on boot number two.

The brunet smirked as he ran his hand over the top of his head, still fussing over the locks. "I'm sure you do, but I can't exactly go out in public with sex hair, can I?"

Putting his foot on the ground, the blond felt his face fall, realization setting in once again. The two of them were in a cocoon of sorts in that hotel room, a bubble, their own lil world where they could touch, fuck, kiss, even cuddle. But once they left, once they set foot in the hallway, it all had to stop. They had to be on their best behavior, had to act like they were just friends and that there was nothing going on between the two of them. Just two straight dudes hanging out.

And yet, he wasn't entirely sure if it would be better when he went home. Sure, being around the singer and not being able to touch him the way he wanted to fucking sucked ass and was harder than he thought possible, but he had no clue how bad it was gonna be when he was in Minnesota, on Tumblr or Twitter or whatever social media site, seeing rumors of the pop star out with this actress or that scantily clad starlet. He was gonna hafta see pictures of the man he wanted hanging out with females of every description, from the innocent and virginal looking to ones you weren't entirely sure were prostitutes or not. And he was just gonna hafta deal with it, just suck it up and keep quiet. Because there was no way James could come out and say that he was...

Kendall's brow furrowed. What exactly would James say? That he was bi? That he wasn't seeing any of those females because he was in a relationship with a guy? Because they weren't. Not really.

Fuck, they really needed to have that chat.

"You okay?"

The blond lifted his head, seeing the brunet in the doorway of the bathroom, hand on the switch to flip off the light. Concern was on his features, his own brow furrowed in a way as he seemingly tried to figure out what was going on in the other male's head.

The teen forced a small smile to his face, nodding as he pretended there was nothing heavy happening, that he wasn't, once again, trying to figure out what was happening between them. "Yeah. Just tired."

That brought the smirk back to the singer's face. He flipped the switch, the bathroom immediately darkening, before walking over. "Yeah. I really wore ya out, huh?" he joked, ruffling the younger male's hair as he walked by on his way to his suitcase, located on the other side of the room.

The smaller male glared, hand up to fix his dirty blond locks, smoothing them down a lot like how the brunet had just done in the bathroom. He squirmed in his seat, the literal pain in his ass making itself known once more, and he struggled to get to a comfy enough point where he could ignore it. "Pretty much, yeah."

Laughter sounded out behind him, a small chuckle, the larger male seeming to be amused by this, maybe even proud.

'Easy for him to be so nonchalant about all this shit,' his mind pointed out. 'It's not his ass that's getting repeatedly pounded into.'

And there was the throbbing pain again. Awesome.

Clearing his throat, Kendall inspected his boots, staring at a scuff mark on the right one and trying to remember where it came from. He could hear the sounds of fabric shuffling, the obvious noises associated with someone getting dressed. Which was kind of a bummer when he thought about it, since it meant James was covering himself up. Beauty like that deserved to be displayed at all times.

A possessive wave hit him then, deciding there was no fucking way that was happening and James needed to be covered up so no one else could see him naked. It was for Kendall's eyes only. Fuck the rest of the world. Fangirls had their imaginations and countless shirtless pics. That was enough for them.

He thought of all those dirty imagines he saw on Tumblr, the drabbles, the commentary on how they think James would be in bed, what he'd act like, the things he'd do. Now that Kendall had first hand experience, he found humor in some of the more outlandish ones, in the ones that were nothing like the real thing. Those that were a little too close to reality didn't make him too happy, but he could easily ignore that shit, too.

Footsteps sounded out and he turned his head to see the singer walking over, his own boots in his hand. His legs were covered in their usual tight dark denim, his torso hidden by a burgundy tee that seemed to leave little to the imagination. Sitting on the teen's left, he set to work putting his boots on, softly singing under his breath.

"Do you always sing everywhere?"

"Hmm? Oh. Uh." He paused to focus on doing up the laces on one boot before placing it on the floor, grabbing the second and lifted his leg up so it was bent with his ankle on the opposite knee. "I guess. Usually when I'm in a good mood."

The corner of the younger male's lips curved up as he leaned over, nudging the elder. "I put you in a good mood?"

The singer smirked back, watching his own actions as he shoved his foot into a boot. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "You do."

Pride swelled inside of Kendall, a small feeling of joy, accompanied by the realization that no one else had ever really told him that. Sure, Carlos seemed to be cheery around the blond, especially when he finally agreed to be dragged to that fateful James Diamond concert, but it was never really spoken out loud that he put anyone in a good mood. The fact that it was James himself who'd said those words made them a million times more important, a million times better and stronger and all that shit. And fuck, he never wanted that to change.

Leaning over, he kissed the singer's cheek, causing the brunet to suddenly snap his head towards him, confusion on his face.

"What was that for?"

The blond shrugged, acting like it wasn't a big deal. "Felt like it."

A smile formed on the brunet's face, now-booted and laced up foot falling onto the ground before he leaned over, kissing Kendall's lips. And just like with every kiss they'd shared before, this one quickly got heated, lips moving together in that now familiar rhythm. James' right hand slid around the back of the teen's neck, fingers sliding up and into his hair, tangling in the dirty blond locks. The younger male gripped the elder's tee, pulling him closer, the two soon laying back on the bed. The singer laid on top of the metal head, their bodies lined up from chest to thigh, forearms bracing himself on the mattress as they continued kissing, as their tongues pushed against one another, as they kept up the make-out session.

Until a loud banging sounded out from the bedroom door.

"Get your pants back on! We gotta go."

James lifted his head, literally growling out a "fuckin' Logan" in response to his assistant's muffled voice. Not that Kendall could argue, since he was busy glaring in the direction of the door.

With a sigh, the singer got up, straightening his shirt as he walked over, opening the wooden portal and greeting his friend with all the sarcastically cheery attitude one would expect from a guy who'd just been cock-blocked. Taking advantage of being momentarily ignored, the blond gingerly got up, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent any sounds of pain from coming out at the motions. But when he got to his feet and looked up, he could see the other two males looking at him.

"What?"

"You okay?" James questioned, Logan looking confused.

He wasn't gonna admit to any pain in front of just the singer, so no fucking way was he saying it in front of both of them. Quickly thinking up a cover story, he rubbed his stomach through his shirt as he walked over. "Hungry."

The assistant rolled his eyes before turning around and heading to the main door of the suite, clearly ready to leave. The singer just chuckled, remaining in place as he waited on the younger male. "You're always hungry."

Dropping his hands, the smaller male shrugged. "I'm a teenage boy. The fuck do you expect?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, given the way the amusement drained from the elder's face, the way his features shifted and changed into a look of realization and slight dread. "Right," he started quietly, nodding slightly as he stared at the floor. "You're a teenager."

Shit. They were back to the whole age difference thing again, back to Kendall being too young, to the blond not being able to actually be with the singer in the way they wanted to be together. Just when they'd seemed to be making progress.

"I'm legal in Minnesota," he pointed out as he reached the other male, intertwining his fingers with those on the pop star's left hand.

"We're not in Minnesota."

Okay, he had a point, but whatever. "No one's gonna know though," the teen stated. "Wasn't that the deal? No one finds out about us and you stay closeted?"

James' brow furrowed as he continued his staring contest with the carpet, not really saying anything, not responding in any way. Not exactly reassuring.

But before either male could speak, Logan came back into the room, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Uh, guys? We gotta go. Now."

The singer nodded, lifting his head and looking at his best friend before releasing the teen's hand and leaving the room. Awesome. Just fucking awesome.

The shorter brunet continued to stand there, looking just as surprised by the move as the taller blond. His lips twisted to the side, appearing like he was trying to figure out exactly what to say and how to respond, before finally speaking. "He's moody. You get used to it."

The teen let out a small snort then walked around the other male. "I'll take your word for it," he muttered as he passed, heading on his way to the main door on the suite where James stood waiting. After all, it wasn't like Kendall actually knew the guy; the singer wouldn't give him the chance to.

Chili's was located about ten minutes from the hotel—by car anyway—and the trio, along with Freight Train, were seated immediately, despite the dinner rush. The booth was located in the back corner, away from prying eyes and curious fangirls, giving them a small amount of privacy so they could chat without having to worry about being eavesdropped upon.

Not that they were actually talking or anything.

A sigh left Kendall as he looked around the place, checking out the random paraphernalia that littered the walls, pretending to be interested in a vintage poster for a '86 marathon in downtown San Diego that sat on the wall to his left. But really, his mind was elsewhere. For a fucking change.

Nobody had spoken since greeting Freight Train outside the hotel suite, the foursome walking in silence to the elevator before riding it down. With James on the opposite side from Kendall. And it didn't get any better once they got in the limo, the singer on the bench along the wall with Logan. And more silence.

The blond shifted in his seat in the booth, arm accidentally brushing against the assistant on his right. The pop star was directly in front of him, staring down at the menu like it was the most fascinating thing in the entire world, ignoring everyone around him. And judging by the way his best friend was watching him with analytical eyes, it wasn't normal behavior.

"James," he started, voice cautious. "You all right, man?"

The pop star didn't bother looking up from his menu, just continued reading it, almost seeming like he had no idea what the chain restaurant could possibly serve. "Tired."

The teen furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to a random red wagon fixed above the window, acting like he was confused by its seemingly unnecessary presence, when really he was trying to figure out why the elder male was lying to his best friend. 'Cause if the guy was anything like Carlos, it meant the assistant could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. Downside of being friends with someone your entire life.

Logan snorted, a smirk on his face. "Not surprised really. Guess you didn't get much sleep then. Too preoccupied in certain carnal activities?"

"I'm not discussing my sex life with you, Logan." His tone was flat, flipping the page in his menu, letting his friend know that the topic was closed and there was no ifs, ands or buts about it.

"Usually you don't have to. Normally I can hear them." It was clearly meant as a joke, given the way he said it, coupled with the dimpled grin on his face, but the elder male's reaction spoke otherwise.

James' head snapped up, face hard as he glared at his best friend, obviously pissed at what he'd just said, disbelief in his darkened hazel eyes. The shorter male just shrugged, shaking his head, his own features in a mask of confusion as he seemingly had no clue what the hell was the problem, why the other male was pissed, why his statement had been wrong to make.

The teen remained silent, eyes going back and forth between the puzzled assistant and the pissed off pop star. But while his own face was expressionless, his mind was in yet another downward spiral. The singer had said that flying out a fan to spend the weekend with wasn't something he'd done before, but clearly hook-ups with them weren't anything new.

'Just another name in a long list of groupie conquests: Kendall Knight.'

Trust his brain to be cheery and totally help out in any and all negative situations.

Fucker.

Tilting his head down, he turned his attention to his menu, deciding to act like the singer had and pretend it was more fascinating that anything else that was happening around him. That, plus trying to figure out if he wanted steak or chicken fajitas seemed like a damn good distraction.

"Kendall."

His name was spoken softly, with a genuine care and concern that he couldn't help but raise his head. James was looking at him, brow furrowed, looking worried. Whatever he was about to say probably wasn't gonna be part of any conversation the blond wanted to be a part of.

"Look, I—"

"Forget it," he interrupted.

"But—"

"You really think this is the place for that conversation?" the teen questioned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table, motioning to the main part of the restaurant with his head. The singer looked out at the occupied tables, the bustling waitresses, the set of kids that ran by with a harried mom chasing them as they headed to the bathroom. He let out a sigh before turning back to the blond, obviously seeing his point. "Right now, we're just friends. What you do with your sex life isn't any of my concern." That being said, he sat back, menu still in hand, done with the topic and conversation.

The brunet looked like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to say something else and totally contradict that point, but he never got a chance. Their own waitress had showed up, in full flirtation mode, batting her overly mascara-ed eyes at the pop star, her shirt with a few less buttons done up than their dress code probably required. Kendall felt his green eyes narrow in anger, jealousy, and that same possessiveness he felt when it came to the singer, knowing exactly why the skank was acting that way. Bitch could dream on if she was hoping for a hook-up or a phone number from the pop star, unless she wanted a knife in one of her fake boobs.

And the blond had believed his violent thoughts had gone away and that he'd calmed down some.

Turning back to the menu, he grit his teeth, focusing his glare at the pictures of food and imagining himself carving into one of the displayed steaks rather than the blond bimbo who was licking her lips in his peripheral vision.

He felt a nudge at his foot, something hitting his toe, despite the fact that he hadn't moved the appendage. Without lifting his head, he glanced up at the brunet sitting across from him, seeing the small reassuring smile on his face, seeing the wink he gave the teen. Underneath the table, James rubbed his boot covered foot on the inside of Kendall's leg before putting his foot alongside the younger male's.

The blond bit the inside of his lip, trying to hide the smile the small action caused, trying not to make it too obvious that something was happening. Okay, so the singer might've hooked up with fans before, might've taken advantage of the readily available groupies that awaited him after every show, but all that was in the past, before he met the teen. And while in days gone by he might've flirted back with the waitress, he wasn't now. He was paying attention to the male in front of him, wordlessly reassuring him that he only had eyes for the blond.

Smug smirk on his face, Kendall turned to the waitress, placing his order, while his foot tilted up and rubbed against the singer's calve.