[fic] When They Come For Me - 1/1
Title: When They Come For Me
Author: garnetice
Pairing: Kendall/James
Rating: M
Word Count: 4,390
Warnings: Shia LaBeouf, blowjobs, total crack!fic, (very) minor spoilers for Dark Of The Moon (nothing you wouldn't get from the previews)
Summary: “Can you ever outgrow giant robots and supermodels?” Carlos asks, horrified by the very idea of it.
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine. Transformers is not mine. Nothing is mine.
Author's Notes: I have a lot of problems with the new Transformers movie, the foremost of which include the lack of consistency with the characters (I’m not just talking about Meagan Fox), the ridiculous nonstop product placement, and everything about how Carly’s character was handled. That said, the second time I was forced to watch it, I enjoyed it way more than the first. Mostly because I was plotting this out in my head. Take that shit, Michael Bay. But yeah. Please don't take this seriously. It doesn't make very much sense. At all. Title from When They Come For Me by Linkin Park. Because it's the song that should have accompanied the movie. I REITERATE, CONSISTENCY. NOT JUST FOR PUDDING, MICHAEL BAY.
---
“That is so unrealistic. Look at her jacket. It’s spotless,” James harrumphs at the TV, waving his hands towards the screen. “You do not run around wearing white in the middle of the apocalypse without getting stains.”
“That’s what you’re looking at? She’s a Victoria’s Secret model, man.”
The look James gives Kendall is one of pure, unmitigated disgust. “You wouldn’t understand. Seventeen years and you still haven’t been able to get it through your head that plaid is a crime against fashion.”
“And the fact that you know that is a crime against testosterone.”
James gives him a dark look, but he’s James. He’s incapable of holding a grudge. “Can we go see the new movie? Please?”
“Gustavo’s never going to let us off work.”
“What if we all get- really sick?” James fakes a cough. “I really think I’m coming down with something. Only the matrix of leadership can heal me.”
Kendall bites back a laugh. James is giving him his best impression of Katie’s puppy dog pout, and Kendall is making a stand here. He refuses to be moved. He refuses-
The commercial flashes to a really cool explosion.
Fuck work.
“Okay, Optimus Prime. We’ll go see Transformers.”
“Starscream!” Carlos yells from down the hall. “We’re going to see Starscream?”
Kendall snorts, shaking his head. His friends have, like, supersonic hearing.
There’s a couple of thuds and then Carlos, in all his half-naked pre-shower glory, is bounding towards them.
If Carlos had been born with a tail, it would be wagging.
“We’re going to see Starscream,” Kendall agrees, letting Carlos bowl him over. They wrestle around on the ground for a few minutes, never mind that the water is running in the bathroom and Carlos is only wearing his boxers.
From the couch, Logan is eyeing them with his sourpuss I’m-Studying expression. It’s the one that Kendall’s mom says is going to give him premature wrinkles. He interrupts all the fun, announcing, “I don’t want to come.”
James, who has been watching Kendall and Carlos wrestle, looks confused. “But- you love giant robots. And supermodels.”
“I’m growing as a person.”
“Can you ever outgrow giant robots and supermodels?” Carlos asks, horrified by the very idea of it.
“No.” Kendall says firmly. “Logan, you have to come.”
“Don’t want to.”
Kendall tries on his leader voice, all imposing tonally, with the threat of severe tickling hanging on each word. “You have to.”
Logan caves. “Fine, but Carlos and I are not sitting by you two.”
“What? Why?” James demands, sniffing an armpit, just to check.
“We’re just not.”
Kendall rolls his eyes. “You’re being overly dramatic.”
“At Revenge of the Fallen? You insulted my future wife.”
“Oh.” Carlos’s face clears, realization dawning. “Yeah. You guys were pretty down on Megan.”
Kendall ignores him, snapping, “You’re not going to marry Megan Fox, dude.”
“It could happen,” Logan retorts, offended.
“No, it can’t. James and I will not allow it.”
James nods. “She has toe-thumbs. You can’t marry a girl with toe-thumbs. It’s unnatural.”
“What?” Logan asks.
“Toe-thumbs,” James repeats slowly, like Carlos and Logan maybe didn’t hear him the first time.
“I- don’t know what that is.”
“I’ll Google it for you,” James says brightly, pulling out his phone.
“Please don’t,” Logan replies. “I said I’d go. You can stop your smear campaign on Megan. She’s not even in this movie.”
“We can never stop,” James says gravely. “Friends don’t let friends marry girls with toe-thumbs.”
---
The theater on a Wednesday afternoon is mostly empty, with the exception of an older couple sitting down by the front row and a family of five loudly giggling to each other in the middle. Logan and Carlos choose the upper middle tier to sit, but when James and Kendall try to follow them in, Logan holds up a hand. “Red light.”
“Come on.” Kendall groans, staring at the large popcorn Logan is cradling in his arms. “She’s not even in this movie.”
“Are you going to objectify the blonde girl?”
“She’s a Victoria’s Secret model,” Kendall says, incredulous. “She wants to be objectified.”
“Women don’t want to be objectified.”
“Uh, when they walk around in their underwear for a living, I’m pretty sure they do.”
“Women objectify us,” James adds, confident in his knowledge of how hot they are. He doesn’t get why Logan’s all in a tizzy, anyway. James likes it when girls stare and drool at him. It makes him feel important.
“That’s different. They don’t do it while I’m trying to concentrate on explosions.”
James frowns. Explosions are cool and all, but- “They’re explosions! What is there to concentrate on?”
“We don’t need them anyway,” Kendall tells James imperiously. He grabs Logan’s soda out of his hands and takes a sip. “We’ll be in the back. In the fun section.”
“I want to go to the fun section,” Carlos whines.
Logan elbows him in the gut. “Sit down.”
“He’s so bossy today,” James tells Kendall.
“I think Camille’s out on a date with that one dude. With the-“ Kendall smoothes a hand over his hair and face, obviously trying to convey something about the guy Camille’s dating. James has no idea what, but he nods his agreement anyway. He knows who Kendall’s talking about; James is tight with Camille.
They settle back into chairs in the top tier for some lame previews. James keeps up a running commentary on everything that’s going on, which Kendall contributes to whenever he has something pertinent to say. Mostly he sips on Logan’s cherry coke and stews. He’s pissed about his banishment. How does Logan even think he has the right to exile anyone? He’s a- noisy eater at movies.
Right before the actual movie starts, Kendall shoves up off the chair and goes to steal the popcorn from Logan and Carlos.
“Don’t want chewing to distract you from the explosions,” he snarks at them. Then he shoves a fist full of popcorn in his mouth.
Logan looks like he’s seriously considering tackling Kendall to the wall, but he’s already walking away. Kendall plops his prize into James’s lap. And then the movie starts.
“She’s hot. I’d stick my matrix of leadership in her,” Kendall mutters, staring at the Victoria’s Secret model walking up the big staircase in nothing but a man’s starched shirt and her underwear. “Her legs don’t even stop.”
“Pssh.” James crosses his feet over the back of the seat in front of him. “Mine are better.”
Kendall silently agrees.
James continues, “Aw, look, Sam has no friends.”
“He has an Angel for a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but, where’s his crazy college homeboy? Where’s that dude he knew in high school?”
“People grow apart, James.”
“We’re never going to.”
“We’re not people. We’re us,” Kendall says simply, and then he steals a handful of Logan and Carlos’s popcorn from between James’s legs.
“Still, though. Character consistency is important. Where are the little hoppy autobots? The ones with the googly eyes? Where’s Ratchet? Oh, wait there he is. For five seconds. Nice screen time.”
“And this is why Logan won’t sit with us. Do you have to be so critical?”
“I’m not critical. Dude, supermodel’s boss is McDreamy. See, that’s not saying anything critical.”
“Mcwhat?”
“McDreamy. From Grey’s Anatomy. Stop looking at me like that. He’s got great hair.”
“You worry me sometimes.”
James makes a disparaging noise, “So wait. This Carly chick is super hot, smart enough to work for the British Embassy in a relatively high ranking position even though she’s like, twenty two, and rich enough to afford the Haunted Mansion?”
“You forgot that she knows a lot about cars.”
“Don’t trust her Sam. She’s using you for your autobots!” James cries dramatically. “I don’t get why we’re supposed to buy this relationship. Am I supposed to be emotionally connected to her character because Sam’s apparently been dating her for a super long time, and they’re at that not-love but kind-of-love he was at with Mikayla in the last movie?”
“You’re supposed to be emotionally connected to her because she just walked up that staircase in her underwear. And because she likes stuffed bunnies. All the traits of a real humanitarian.”
James sniffs. “I don’t trust British people. They talk weird.”
“James.”
“What? Hot, but weird.”
“Starscream,” Carlos yells from the middle row. Kendall blinks.
“Why does he keep doing that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Starscream!”
“Is he going to do that for the entire movie?”
“He did for the last one.” James snags a sip of Kendall’s coke. “Now are you happy you’re sitting with me and not them?”
Kendall rolls his eyes and tries to concentrate on the movie. It doesn’t really work.
“Do you think she’s prettier than me?”
Kendall chokes on his cherry coke. He turns to look at James, considering. James is gorgeous, from the gold flecks in his eyes and the red of his lips, the angles of his cheekbones and the lines of his throat, the planes of his broad shoulders. He’s not sure there’s anyone prettier than the boy in front of him, foxy supermodel or not. He says, “No, but I think she looks prettier in lingerie than you.”
Indignant, James retorts, “You’ve never seen me in lingerie.”
Kendall spares a thought for that interesting visual.
“I wish they’d show her in her lingerie more often,” is what he says.
"You’re missing the point,” James says.
“How? What point? Girls, explosions. Ferraris? I think I’m getting the point.”
“At its root, Transformers is the story of a boy and his car.”
“His car ditched him. Like Megan Fox.”
“Don’t compare Meagan with Bumblebee. She has toe-thumbs.”
“Okay, Logan’s right. You need to shut up about the toe-thumbs.”
“After you stop overlooking the complex relationship between Sam and Bumblebee. Fuck the model.”
“I’d like to fuck the model.”
“Is this movie making you horny or something?”
“Let’s see. I’m a guy. There are hot cars, explosions, and oh yeah. A Victoria’s Secret model. I might have to think about this.”
James tilts his head, studying the flickering lights playing over Kendall’s face. Then he shrugs and says, “It turns me on too.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying, I like the way Shia LaBouef screams, ‘Bee’,” James does his imitation a little more loudly than is called for. The couple in front turns to shush him. “He obviously shares a deep connection with his car. I get that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I feel that way about hair gel,” James explains, grinning. “So. On a scale of one to ten. How horny are you right now?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Okay.” James shakes his head at the screen. “People would like the deceptacons so much more if they got better paint jobs.”
Kendall stares at him. He says, “You’re right. Bright shiny colors would really distract the human race from the fact that they’re in the midst of being enslaved.”
“Nothing sells a dictatorship like ice blue racing stripes. And sparkles. Dude, where is Megan Fox right now?”
“What? She’s not in this movie.”
“Yeah, I get that she dumped him and everything, it’s a little weird that Mikaela’s not like, phoning in to see if she can help with the apocalypse.”
“No, no. That’s what girls do. They break your heart, leave, and never come back into your life ever again, even when they also helped save the world.”
James nods, thoughtful. “Do you think she got a medal from the president too?”
“Probably not. Who needs a medal when you have boobs?” Less than five minutes later, Kendall practically whimpers. “Look at that car. Can you imagine fucking in a Ferrari?”
“Don’t have to imagine. I’ve done it.”
“What? When?” Kendall demands.
“One of our beach parties. This girl and me and Griffin’s 458 Italia. Well,” James confesses, “We actually did it on top of the car. Ferraris aren’t exactly known for the roomy interiors.”
Kendall groans, thinking of it. “I’m so jealous.”
“It was a good time,” James agrees. “Oh look, we can’t have Ratchet, but we can have very obvious advertisements for Target and Gillette. Sweet. Let’s go shopping.”
“Stop it,” Kendall admonishes. “Look, something’s exploding.”
James does look, but his mind’s still on the Ferrari and Kendall’s libido. He says, “I’m surprised no one walked in on us, actually. She was loud. I had her screaming my name.”
Kendall shifts in the theater chair, tugging at a hole in his jeans self-consciously. James blinks. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“No, you’re-“ James glances at Kendall’s face. He looks all flustered. Teasing, he says, “Is this seriously all it takes to turn you on? Autobots and sex stories?”
“Pretty much.” Kendall says, and wow. He sounds mortified. He can’t really be-
Can he?
Decisively, James drops out of his seat onto the theater floor. He winces when he feels something wet seep into the denim near his calf, and he really, really hopes that no one’s thrown their gum down there. But it’s still kind of worth wrecking his designer jeans for the way that Kendall is looking at him, all lost and worried and adorable. That expression transforms to disbelief when James’s hands creep up his thighs, and then to fierce intensity when James’s fingers brush over the outline of his dick through his jeans. And wow. No. Kendall was not lying. He’s fucking hard.
“W-what are you doing?”
James leans in, trying to hide a smile. He’s thinking about joking around, about teasing Kendall until all that mortification vanishes. But Kendall’s not smiling at all, and James realizes that his hand is still resting over the front of Kendall’s jeans, and if anything, he feels harder. Oh.
James tilts his head, kissing Kendall’s jaw experimentally. Kendall arches into it.
“Give me the all-spark,” James murmurs against Kendall’s throat, biting for emphasis. He’s still caught up in the idea that this is all a joke, but Kendall groans. James isn’t sure whether it’s from the pain or the words or the sinful way James’s tongue is lathering over the mark he just made.
Kendall isn’t really acting like this is very funny.
James makes a decision. He sinks back down until his face is level with Kendall’s jeans.
“James,” Kendall yelps, voice quiet, embarrassed.
“You have to tell me before you cum,” James murmurs, nudging Kendall’s jean-clad thigh with his nose. “Semen and popcorn; not exactly complementary tastes.”
“Oh yeah?” Kendall tries to sound casual, but fuck, James is on his knees on the sticky theater floor, staring at Kendall’s crotch like he’s about to unwrap the best present in the world. Casual is not really attainable right now. His voice comes out a shaky whisper, “What am I supposed to say?”
Into his inseam, James suggests, “I am Megatron?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll pay you fifty bucks.”
“You don’t have fifty bucks,” Kendall squirms. James’s breath is hot through the denim. “I’m not going to say that.”
“Oh. You’ll say it,” James says confidently, still breathing damp on the front of his jeans. Kendall shivers.
“You think you’re that good?”
“I know I’m that good,” James says, and he can feel Kendall’s eyes on all him, all dark and fierce and more than a little turned on. He’s tracking every single thing James does, so James decides to make sure that he really puts on a show. It’s a long movie. They’ve got time.
Carefully, James undoes the buckle of Kendall’s belt, the button and the zipper of Kendall’s jeans. He can’t see a lot in the dark theater, but he can tell that Kendall’s wearing plaid boxers. Ugh. He shifts the material out of the way, looping his fingers inside the opening and wrapping them around Kendall’s cock. He pulls it free, smoothing his thumb over skin that’s all half-familiar angles. The weight and the heat and the color of Kendall is different than James’s dick, but he thinks he almost likes the feel of it more.
Kendall’s voice trembles as he says, “Shit. You’re- you’re serious.”
James doesn’t dignify that with a response. He makes a tight circle from his thumb and his other fingers, but he doesn’t move, not yet, not wanting to chafe against Kendall’s over sensitized flesh. James kisses against the underside of Kendall’s dick, soft brushes of his lips that make Kendall hiss.
Appreciatively, James lets his tongue dart out to trace the contours of Kendall, at first testing, teasing. Kendall’s fingers wrap hard into James’s shoulder, his collarbone, digging in. On the movie screen, James hears the sound of crashing, the screech of metal and the rumble of an explosion. He doesn’t turn around, using the flat of his tongue to start tasting Kendall’s dick in earnest, licking it like a popsicle.
Kendall kind of looks like he wants to murder James, or at the very least force his head down into his lap, because none of this teasing is actually enough.
James doesn’t mind being a cocktease. He wants Kendall to want this like he’s never wanted anything in his life. When the hand on his shoulder moves up to pull insistently at James’s hair, he knows he’s winning.
He grins against Kendall’s skin and then proceeds to wrap his mouth around the head of Kendall’s cock, swallowing the whole thing down in one graceful move that makes Kendall yelp, “Fuck.”
James starts up a slow, steady rhythm that he accentuates with his fingers, finally moving them in fine little strokes across the base of Kendall’s dick. There’s no conversation then, just Kendall’s muffled whimpers and the smack of James’s lips wet on his flesh, the scrape of denim across the material of the theater seat and Shia LaBouef giving a moving speech behind his head.
“James,” Kendall groans, arching into his mouth, voice pitching to a whine. “The apocalypse is coming. You should-“
James pulls his lips off of Kendall with an audible pop. He knows he looks rumpled and sexy, but a little disgruntled. Because, man, his blowjobs are awesome. He has practiced on bananas. And several other phallic foods. He really prides himself at his ability to make other boys cream themselves. The fact that Kendall is interrupting so that James can watch the end of the world by car people? A little insulting.
He kneads at Kendall’s thighs, appreciating the way that Kendall’s hips are jerking into the air a little to find the lost heat of James’s mouth.
“Unless the apocalypse is in your pants, dude? Not interested.” James gives Kendall a very disparaging look, running his thumb over the head of his dick. Kendall makes this noise that sounds kind of like a cat’s yowl.
“But- Shia LaBeouf is screaming Bumblebee’s name.”
James feels his dick twitch, and yeah, okay. Shia is calling his car’s name. It makes James think of the Ferrari; the slick candy apple red paint job and the nameless girl pulling moves like his own personal porn star.
James tightens his fingers around Kendall, palm sliding slick down the shaft of his cock. He pulls once, twice, twisting his wrist a little. Kendall’s eyes flutter close and his head thunks back against the theater seat. When he’s sure he’s gotten Kendall’s full attention, he says, “There’s only one thing coming that I want to watch.”
Kendall licks his lips, eyelids half opening again to stare down at James.
“Is that okay with you? I could stop.”
Kendall’s eyes are dark, the movie reflecting back in his pupils, flickering explosions like little burning embers.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he says, and it’s a command, a growl all choked in his throat. He threads his fingers through the hair at the back of James’s head and uses it to yank him in close for a kiss, all teeth and saliva like a wild animal. It wipes the memory of Ferrari girl clean from James’s mind, and fuck. James wonders what Kendall would be like in bed, if all that determination and single-minded focus of his would translate into the kind of attention and passion that make sex spectacular.
When Kendall releases his hold on James, panting, James decides that he’s going to have to plan a Transformers marathon one of these days. In his room.
Carlos and Logan will not be invited.
James moves his mouth back over Kendall’s dick, lipping soft over the head, tongue darting across the slit. He makes sure he has Kendall’s absolute focus before he painstakingly takes Kendall back in, inch by inch.
“Ngh-James.” Kendall moans long and low, a harsh exhale that makes his name sound filthier than he’s ever heard it before. James likes that. He flicks his tongue over the ridge of the head of Kendall’s cock, savoring the transition from silky smooth skin to fleshier bits, all salty and slick and Kendall. He sucks his cheeks in, keeping suction while he runs his tongue back down along the shaft, twisting his fingers at the base and taking Kendall in all the way, until his dick bumps against the back of James’s mouth. He has to swallow back his gag reflex, pushing deeper still until he’s got Kendall half down his throat.
“James, I- fuck. James,” Kendall hisses, nearly shouting the last part. James digs his free hand into Kendall’s knee, trying to warn him to stay quiet before they get kicked out of the theater in a really public fashion. As it is, he hears Logan yell shut the hell up, followed by a particularly loud, violent crash and Carlos’s exclamation of Starscream!
Kendall doesn’t even seem fazed, fucking up into James’s mouth like it’s the only thing he has the capacity to do. His fingers are digging deep and tight into James’s scalp, pulling, bruising, and James is kind of awed to discover that he likes that. His hair’s going to be a mess, but fuck, it feels good in a masochistic way.
“James, James,” Kendall is panting, and at least he’s doing exactly what James wants, saying his name like it’s a filthy word. He’s squirming in his chair, forcing James’s head down, hips stuttering up, and James has to use all his strength to get his head up high enough that he can keep up any kind of rhythm, much less fast enough to make Kendall tip over the edge.
He peers up through his eyelashes to catch a glimpse of Kendall in the low lighting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, chest heaving with his ragged breath, expression half gape mouthed, half pleasured grimace that makes his dimples stand out in stark relief. His hair catches the orange light of an explosion and James kind of wants to press his free hand to the front of his jeans, to keep down how attracted he is to Kendall like this, losing control.
Instead he creeps his hand further up Kendall’s leg, moving from his knee to stroke sweetly up Kendall’s inseam, and that’s all it takes. Kendall yelps.
“James, I’m-“ and then like it’s almost painful he says, “I’m not- fucking Megatron,” and cums hot and fast into James’s mouth. It’s a flood of salty hot, the consistency strange, but James swallows it burning down his throat before he gets a chance to think about, tossing it back like a shot of tequila stolen from his dad’s liquor cabinet. Kendall is watching him wide eyed and awed, and just for theatrics, James makes a big show of swirling his tongue around his mouth, tasting Kendall on his lips.
Kendall uncurls his fingers from James’s hair, tugging light at one of the tendrils, stroking soft along the cords straining in James’s neck before cupping his cheek and slumping back against the chair. After a beat, his fingertips slide across James’s face, falling by the wayside, and James scrambles to find his footing, a little shaky.
The toes of his sneakers stick to the floor, but he sort of doesn’t care, flopping into his chair and hoping his hard on isn’t too obvious. Kendall peers out at him from half lidded eyes and for a second or so he just stares, all open and vulnerable. James stares back, thinking about how weird it is that he’s never noticed how gorgeous Kendall’s eyes are. He can taste Kendall in his mouth.
Kendall tries to straighten, but mostly just ends up slumping back again, the metal of his belt buckle still hanging open and clanging loud against the arm rest.
“C’mere,” he mutters, and then his fingers are twisting up against around the back of James’s neck, and he’s pulling him in for a soft, sweet, lazy kiss.
The movie is over. James can hear the credits rolling, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He kisses Kendall back until the lights return, and then, reluctantly, he pulls away. He helps Kendall surreptitiously tuck himself back into his jeans before they head down to the aisle where Logan and Carlos are waiting.
“Why is Kendall smiling? Starscream,” Carlos sniffs, obviously in a delicate state of mind for reasons that James doesn’t really understand.
“Kendall’s smiling for the same reason he always smiles whenever we leave a theater,” Logan hisses, “He was looking up that Carly girl’s skirt. This is why we don’t sit with them anymore.”
Kendall frowns at him, “Why are you mad?”
“That movie made no sense,” Logan fumes. “Why was there a tray of Hennessey and Bushmills in the middle of an office building? Who lets you bring a tray of liquor to work in a cubicle?”
“Starscream?” Carlos suggests.
“If you say that one more time I’m going to choke you. And you two? Could you be any noisier? This is why I didn’t want to come. You, like, objectify the women and critique the clothes.”
“Yeah.” Kendall agrees. “We should stop doing that.”
Carlos asks, “Did you guys like the movie?”
“Oh yeah. Thumbs up. Best film of the year.”
“It was not,” Logan scoffs, and then he launches into a rant about product placement.
James hears, “-and why did they keep calling Soundwave Shockwave?” when he feels Kendall’s fingers in his back pocket. Logan and Carlos don’t seem to have noticed, but James can feel Kendall’s fingers squeeze against his ass, and fuck. Yeah. He’s still more than a little turned on.
He’s planning that Transformers marathon tonight.
---
Author: garnetice
Pairing: Kendall/James
Rating: M
Word Count: 4,390
Warnings: Shia LaBeouf, blowjobs, total crack!fic, (very) minor spoilers for Dark Of The Moon (nothing you wouldn't get from the previews)
Summary: “Can you ever outgrow giant robots and supermodels?” Carlos asks, horrified by the very idea of it.
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine. Transformers is not mine. Nothing is mine.
Author's Notes: I have a lot of problems with the new Transformers movie, the foremost of which include the lack of consistency with the characters (I’m not just talking about Meagan Fox), the ridiculous nonstop product placement, and everything about how Carly’s character was handled. That said, the second time I was forced to watch it, I enjoyed it way more than the first. Mostly because I was plotting this out in my head. Take that shit, Michael Bay. But yeah. Please don't take this seriously. It doesn't make very much sense. At all. Title from When They Come For Me by Linkin Park. Because it's the song that should have accompanied the movie. I REITERATE, CONSISTENCY. NOT JUST FOR PUDDING, MICHAEL BAY.
---
“That is so unrealistic. Look at her jacket. It’s spotless,” James harrumphs at the TV, waving his hands towards the screen. “You do not run around wearing white in the middle of the apocalypse without getting stains.”
“That’s what you’re looking at? She’s a Victoria’s Secret model, man.”
The look James gives Kendall is one of pure, unmitigated disgust. “You wouldn’t understand. Seventeen years and you still haven’t been able to get it through your head that plaid is a crime against fashion.”
“And the fact that you know that is a crime against testosterone.”
James gives him a dark look, but he’s James. He’s incapable of holding a grudge. “Can we go see the new movie? Please?”
“Gustavo’s never going to let us off work.”
“What if we all get- really sick?” James fakes a cough. “I really think I’m coming down with something. Only the matrix of leadership can heal me.”
Kendall bites back a laugh. James is giving him his best impression of Katie’s puppy dog pout, and Kendall is making a stand here. He refuses to be moved. He refuses-
The commercial flashes to a really cool explosion.
Fuck work.
“Okay, Optimus Prime. We’ll go see Transformers.”
“Starscream!” Carlos yells from down the hall. “We’re going to see Starscream?”
Kendall snorts, shaking his head. His friends have, like, supersonic hearing.
There’s a couple of thuds and then Carlos, in all his half-naked pre-shower glory, is bounding towards them.
If Carlos had been born with a tail, it would be wagging.
“We’re going to see Starscream,” Kendall agrees, letting Carlos bowl him over. They wrestle around on the ground for a few minutes, never mind that the water is running in the bathroom and Carlos is only wearing his boxers.
From the couch, Logan is eyeing them with his sourpuss I’m-Studying expression. It’s the one that Kendall’s mom says is going to give him premature wrinkles. He interrupts all the fun, announcing, “I don’t want to come.”
James, who has been watching Kendall and Carlos wrestle, looks confused. “But- you love giant robots. And supermodels.”
“I’m growing as a person.”
“Can you ever outgrow giant robots and supermodels?” Carlos asks, horrified by the very idea of it.
“No.” Kendall says firmly. “Logan, you have to come.”
“Don’t want to.”
Kendall tries on his leader voice, all imposing tonally, with the threat of severe tickling hanging on each word. “You have to.”
Logan caves. “Fine, but Carlos and I are not sitting by you two.”
“What? Why?” James demands, sniffing an armpit, just to check.
“We’re just not.”
Kendall rolls his eyes. “You’re being overly dramatic.”
“At Revenge of the Fallen? You insulted my future wife.”
“Oh.” Carlos’s face clears, realization dawning. “Yeah. You guys were pretty down on Megan.”
Kendall ignores him, snapping, “You’re not going to marry Megan Fox, dude.”
“It could happen,” Logan retorts, offended.
“No, it can’t. James and I will not allow it.”
James nods. “She has toe-thumbs. You can’t marry a girl with toe-thumbs. It’s unnatural.”
“What?” Logan asks.
“Toe-thumbs,” James repeats slowly, like Carlos and Logan maybe didn’t hear him the first time.
“I- don’t know what that is.”
“I’ll Google it for you,” James says brightly, pulling out his phone.
“Please don’t,” Logan replies. “I said I’d go. You can stop your smear campaign on Megan. She’s not even in this movie.”
“We can never stop,” James says gravely. “Friends don’t let friends marry girls with toe-thumbs.”
---
The theater on a Wednesday afternoon is mostly empty, with the exception of an older couple sitting down by the front row and a family of five loudly giggling to each other in the middle. Logan and Carlos choose the upper middle tier to sit, but when James and Kendall try to follow them in, Logan holds up a hand. “Red light.”
“Come on.” Kendall groans, staring at the large popcorn Logan is cradling in his arms. “She’s not even in this movie.”
“Are you going to objectify the blonde girl?”
“She’s a Victoria’s Secret model,” Kendall says, incredulous. “She wants to be objectified.”
“Women don’t want to be objectified.”
“Uh, when they walk around in their underwear for a living, I’m pretty sure they do.”
“Women objectify us,” James adds, confident in his knowledge of how hot they are. He doesn’t get why Logan’s all in a tizzy, anyway. James likes it when girls stare and drool at him. It makes him feel important.
“That’s different. They don’t do it while I’m trying to concentrate on explosions.”
James frowns. Explosions are cool and all, but- “They’re explosions! What is there to concentrate on?”
“We don’t need them anyway,” Kendall tells James imperiously. He grabs Logan’s soda out of his hands and takes a sip. “We’ll be in the back. In the fun section.”
“I want to go to the fun section,” Carlos whines.
Logan elbows him in the gut. “Sit down.”
“He’s so bossy today,” James tells Kendall.
“I think Camille’s out on a date with that one dude. With the-“ Kendall smoothes a hand over his hair and face, obviously trying to convey something about the guy Camille’s dating. James has no idea what, but he nods his agreement anyway. He knows who Kendall’s talking about; James is tight with Camille.
They settle back into chairs in the top tier for some lame previews. James keeps up a running commentary on everything that’s going on, which Kendall contributes to whenever he has something pertinent to say. Mostly he sips on Logan’s cherry coke and stews. He’s pissed about his banishment. How does Logan even think he has the right to exile anyone? He’s a- noisy eater at movies.
Right before the actual movie starts, Kendall shoves up off the chair and goes to steal the popcorn from Logan and Carlos.
“Don’t want chewing to distract you from the explosions,” he snarks at them. Then he shoves a fist full of popcorn in his mouth.
Logan looks like he’s seriously considering tackling Kendall to the wall, but he’s already walking away. Kendall plops his prize into James’s lap. And then the movie starts.
“She’s hot. I’d stick my matrix of leadership in her,” Kendall mutters, staring at the Victoria’s Secret model walking up the big staircase in nothing but a man’s starched shirt and her underwear. “Her legs don’t even stop.”
“Pssh.” James crosses his feet over the back of the seat in front of him. “Mine are better.”
Kendall silently agrees.
James continues, “Aw, look, Sam has no friends.”
“He has an Angel for a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but, where’s his crazy college homeboy? Where’s that dude he knew in high school?”
“People grow apart, James.”
“We’re never going to.”
“We’re not people. We’re us,” Kendall says simply, and then he steals a handful of Logan and Carlos’s popcorn from between James’s legs.
“Still, though. Character consistency is important. Where are the little hoppy autobots? The ones with the googly eyes? Where’s Ratchet? Oh, wait there he is. For five seconds. Nice screen time.”
“And this is why Logan won’t sit with us. Do you have to be so critical?”
“I’m not critical. Dude, supermodel’s boss is McDreamy. See, that’s not saying anything critical.”
“Mcwhat?”
“McDreamy. From Grey’s Anatomy. Stop looking at me like that. He’s got great hair.”
“You worry me sometimes.”
James makes a disparaging noise, “So wait. This Carly chick is super hot, smart enough to work for the British Embassy in a relatively high ranking position even though she’s like, twenty two, and rich enough to afford the Haunted Mansion?”
“You forgot that she knows a lot about cars.”
“Don’t trust her Sam. She’s using you for your autobots!” James cries dramatically. “I don’t get why we’re supposed to buy this relationship. Am I supposed to be emotionally connected to her character because Sam’s apparently been dating her for a super long time, and they’re at that not-love but kind-of-love he was at with Mikayla in the last movie?”
“You’re supposed to be emotionally connected to her because she just walked up that staircase in her underwear. And because she likes stuffed bunnies. All the traits of a real humanitarian.”
James sniffs. “I don’t trust British people. They talk weird.”
“James.”
“What? Hot, but weird.”
“Starscream,” Carlos yells from the middle row. Kendall blinks.
“Why does he keep doing that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Starscream!”
“Is he going to do that for the entire movie?”
“He did for the last one.” James snags a sip of Kendall’s coke. “Now are you happy you’re sitting with me and not them?”
Kendall rolls his eyes and tries to concentrate on the movie. It doesn’t really work.
“Do you think she’s prettier than me?”
Kendall chokes on his cherry coke. He turns to look at James, considering. James is gorgeous, from the gold flecks in his eyes and the red of his lips, the angles of his cheekbones and the lines of his throat, the planes of his broad shoulders. He’s not sure there’s anyone prettier than the boy in front of him, foxy supermodel or not. He says, “No, but I think she looks prettier in lingerie than you.”
Indignant, James retorts, “You’ve never seen me in lingerie.”
Kendall spares a thought for that interesting visual.
“I wish they’d show her in her lingerie more often,” is what he says.
"You’re missing the point,” James says.
“How? What point? Girls, explosions. Ferraris? I think I’m getting the point.”
“At its root, Transformers is the story of a boy and his car.”
“His car ditched him. Like Megan Fox.”
“Don’t compare Meagan with Bumblebee. She has toe-thumbs.”
“Okay, Logan’s right. You need to shut up about the toe-thumbs.”
“After you stop overlooking the complex relationship between Sam and Bumblebee. Fuck the model.”
“I’d like to fuck the model.”
“Is this movie making you horny or something?”
“Let’s see. I’m a guy. There are hot cars, explosions, and oh yeah. A Victoria’s Secret model. I might have to think about this.”
James tilts his head, studying the flickering lights playing over Kendall’s face. Then he shrugs and says, “It turns me on too.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying, I like the way Shia LaBouef screams, ‘Bee’,” James does his imitation a little more loudly than is called for. The couple in front turns to shush him. “He obviously shares a deep connection with his car. I get that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I feel that way about hair gel,” James explains, grinning. “So. On a scale of one to ten. How horny are you right now?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Okay.” James shakes his head at the screen. “People would like the deceptacons so much more if they got better paint jobs.”
Kendall stares at him. He says, “You’re right. Bright shiny colors would really distract the human race from the fact that they’re in the midst of being enslaved.”
“Nothing sells a dictatorship like ice blue racing stripes. And sparkles. Dude, where is Megan Fox right now?”
“What? She’s not in this movie.”
“Yeah, I get that she dumped him and everything, it’s a little weird that Mikaela’s not like, phoning in to see if she can help with the apocalypse.”
“No, no. That’s what girls do. They break your heart, leave, and never come back into your life ever again, even when they also helped save the world.”
James nods, thoughtful. “Do you think she got a medal from the president too?”
“Probably not. Who needs a medal when you have boobs?” Less than five minutes later, Kendall practically whimpers. “Look at that car. Can you imagine fucking in a Ferrari?”
“Don’t have to imagine. I’ve done it.”
“What? When?” Kendall demands.
“One of our beach parties. This girl and me and Griffin’s 458 Italia. Well,” James confesses, “We actually did it on top of the car. Ferraris aren’t exactly known for the roomy interiors.”
Kendall groans, thinking of it. “I’m so jealous.”
“It was a good time,” James agrees. “Oh look, we can’t have Ratchet, but we can have very obvious advertisements for Target and Gillette. Sweet. Let’s go shopping.”
“Stop it,” Kendall admonishes. “Look, something’s exploding.”
James does look, but his mind’s still on the Ferrari and Kendall’s libido. He says, “I’m surprised no one walked in on us, actually. She was loud. I had her screaming my name.”
Kendall shifts in the theater chair, tugging at a hole in his jeans self-consciously. James blinks. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“No, you’re-“ James glances at Kendall’s face. He looks all flustered. Teasing, he says, “Is this seriously all it takes to turn you on? Autobots and sex stories?”
“Pretty much.” Kendall says, and wow. He sounds mortified. He can’t really be-
Can he?
Decisively, James drops out of his seat onto the theater floor. He winces when he feels something wet seep into the denim near his calf, and he really, really hopes that no one’s thrown their gum down there. But it’s still kind of worth wrecking his designer jeans for the way that Kendall is looking at him, all lost and worried and adorable. That expression transforms to disbelief when James’s hands creep up his thighs, and then to fierce intensity when James’s fingers brush over the outline of his dick through his jeans. And wow. No. Kendall was not lying. He’s fucking hard.
“W-what are you doing?”
James leans in, trying to hide a smile. He’s thinking about joking around, about teasing Kendall until all that mortification vanishes. But Kendall’s not smiling at all, and James realizes that his hand is still resting over the front of Kendall’s jeans, and if anything, he feels harder. Oh.
James tilts his head, kissing Kendall’s jaw experimentally. Kendall arches into it.
“Give me the all-spark,” James murmurs against Kendall’s throat, biting for emphasis. He’s still caught up in the idea that this is all a joke, but Kendall groans. James isn’t sure whether it’s from the pain or the words or the sinful way James’s tongue is lathering over the mark he just made.
Kendall isn’t really acting like this is very funny.
James makes a decision. He sinks back down until his face is level with Kendall’s jeans.
“James,” Kendall yelps, voice quiet, embarrassed.
“You have to tell me before you cum,” James murmurs, nudging Kendall’s jean-clad thigh with his nose. “Semen and popcorn; not exactly complementary tastes.”
“Oh yeah?” Kendall tries to sound casual, but fuck, James is on his knees on the sticky theater floor, staring at Kendall’s crotch like he’s about to unwrap the best present in the world. Casual is not really attainable right now. His voice comes out a shaky whisper, “What am I supposed to say?”
Into his inseam, James suggests, “I am Megatron?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll pay you fifty bucks.”
“You don’t have fifty bucks,” Kendall squirms. James’s breath is hot through the denim. “I’m not going to say that.”
“Oh. You’ll say it,” James says confidently, still breathing damp on the front of his jeans. Kendall shivers.
“You think you’re that good?”
“I know I’m that good,” James says, and he can feel Kendall’s eyes on all him, all dark and fierce and more than a little turned on. He’s tracking every single thing James does, so James decides to make sure that he really puts on a show. It’s a long movie. They’ve got time.
Carefully, James undoes the buckle of Kendall’s belt, the button and the zipper of Kendall’s jeans. He can’t see a lot in the dark theater, but he can tell that Kendall’s wearing plaid boxers. Ugh. He shifts the material out of the way, looping his fingers inside the opening and wrapping them around Kendall’s cock. He pulls it free, smoothing his thumb over skin that’s all half-familiar angles. The weight and the heat and the color of Kendall is different than James’s dick, but he thinks he almost likes the feel of it more.
Kendall’s voice trembles as he says, “Shit. You’re- you’re serious.”
James doesn’t dignify that with a response. He makes a tight circle from his thumb and his other fingers, but he doesn’t move, not yet, not wanting to chafe against Kendall’s over sensitized flesh. James kisses against the underside of Kendall’s dick, soft brushes of his lips that make Kendall hiss.
Appreciatively, James lets his tongue dart out to trace the contours of Kendall, at first testing, teasing. Kendall’s fingers wrap hard into James’s shoulder, his collarbone, digging in. On the movie screen, James hears the sound of crashing, the screech of metal and the rumble of an explosion. He doesn’t turn around, using the flat of his tongue to start tasting Kendall’s dick in earnest, licking it like a popsicle.
Kendall kind of looks like he wants to murder James, or at the very least force his head down into his lap, because none of this teasing is actually enough.
James doesn’t mind being a cocktease. He wants Kendall to want this like he’s never wanted anything in his life. When the hand on his shoulder moves up to pull insistently at James’s hair, he knows he’s winning.
He grins against Kendall’s skin and then proceeds to wrap his mouth around the head of Kendall’s cock, swallowing the whole thing down in one graceful move that makes Kendall yelp, “Fuck.”
James starts up a slow, steady rhythm that he accentuates with his fingers, finally moving them in fine little strokes across the base of Kendall’s dick. There’s no conversation then, just Kendall’s muffled whimpers and the smack of James’s lips wet on his flesh, the scrape of denim across the material of the theater seat and Shia LaBouef giving a moving speech behind his head.
“James,” Kendall groans, arching into his mouth, voice pitching to a whine. “The apocalypse is coming. You should-“
James pulls his lips off of Kendall with an audible pop. He knows he looks rumpled and sexy, but a little disgruntled. Because, man, his blowjobs are awesome. He has practiced on bananas. And several other phallic foods. He really prides himself at his ability to make other boys cream themselves. The fact that Kendall is interrupting so that James can watch the end of the world by car people? A little insulting.
He kneads at Kendall’s thighs, appreciating the way that Kendall’s hips are jerking into the air a little to find the lost heat of James’s mouth.
“Unless the apocalypse is in your pants, dude? Not interested.” James gives Kendall a very disparaging look, running his thumb over the head of his dick. Kendall makes this noise that sounds kind of like a cat’s yowl.
“But- Shia LaBeouf is screaming Bumblebee’s name.”
James feels his dick twitch, and yeah, okay. Shia is calling his car’s name. It makes James think of the Ferrari; the slick candy apple red paint job and the nameless girl pulling moves like his own personal porn star.
James tightens his fingers around Kendall, palm sliding slick down the shaft of his cock. He pulls once, twice, twisting his wrist a little. Kendall’s eyes flutter close and his head thunks back against the theater seat. When he’s sure he’s gotten Kendall’s full attention, he says, “There’s only one thing coming that I want to watch.”
Kendall licks his lips, eyelids half opening again to stare down at James.
“Is that okay with you? I could stop.”
Kendall’s eyes are dark, the movie reflecting back in his pupils, flickering explosions like little burning embers.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he says, and it’s a command, a growl all choked in his throat. He threads his fingers through the hair at the back of James’s head and uses it to yank him in close for a kiss, all teeth and saliva like a wild animal. It wipes the memory of Ferrari girl clean from James’s mind, and fuck. James wonders what Kendall would be like in bed, if all that determination and single-minded focus of his would translate into the kind of attention and passion that make sex spectacular.
When Kendall releases his hold on James, panting, James decides that he’s going to have to plan a Transformers marathon one of these days. In his room.
Carlos and Logan will not be invited.
James moves his mouth back over Kendall’s dick, lipping soft over the head, tongue darting across the slit. He makes sure he has Kendall’s absolute focus before he painstakingly takes Kendall back in, inch by inch.
“Ngh-James.” Kendall moans long and low, a harsh exhale that makes his name sound filthier than he’s ever heard it before. James likes that. He flicks his tongue over the ridge of the head of Kendall’s cock, savoring the transition from silky smooth skin to fleshier bits, all salty and slick and Kendall. He sucks his cheeks in, keeping suction while he runs his tongue back down along the shaft, twisting his fingers at the base and taking Kendall in all the way, until his dick bumps against the back of James’s mouth. He has to swallow back his gag reflex, pushing deeper still until he’s got Kendall half down his throat.
“James, I- fuck. James,” Kendall hisses, nearly shouting the last part. James digs his free hand into Kendall’s knee, trying to warn him to stay quiet before they get kicked out of the theater in a really public fashion. As it is, he hears Logan yell shut the hell up, followed by a particularly loud, violent crash and Carlos’s exclamation of Starscream!
Kendall doesn’t even seem fazed, fucking up into James’s mouth like it’s the only thing he has the capacity to do. His fingers are digging deep and tight into James’s scalp, pulling, bruising, and James is kind of awed to discover that he likes that. His hair’s going to be a mess, but fuck, it feels good in a masochistic way.
“James, James,” Kendall is panting, and at least he’s doing exactly what James wants, saying his name like it’s a filthy word. He’s squirming in his chair, forcing James’s head down, hips stuttering up, and James has to use all his strength to get his head up high enough that he can keep up any kind of rhythm, much less fast enough to make Kendall tip over the edge.
He peers up through his eyelashes to catch a glimpse of Kendall in the low lighting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, chest heaving with his ragged breath, expression half gape mouthed, half pleasured grimace that makes his dimples stand out in stark relief. His hair catches the orange light of an explosion and James kind of wants to press his free hand to the front of his jeans, to keep down how attracted he is to Kendall like this, losing control.
Instead he creeps his hand further up Kendall’s leg, moving from his knee to stroke sweetly up Kendall’s inseam, and that’s all it takes. Kendall yelps.
“James, I’m-“ and then like it’s almost painful he says, “I’m not- fucking Megatron,” and cums hot and fast into James’s mouth. It’s a flood of salty hot, the consistency strange, but James swallows it burning down his throat before he gets a chance to think about, tossing it back like a shot of tequila stolen from his dad’s liquor cabinet. Kendall is watching him wide eyed and awed, and just for theatrics, James makes a big show of swirling his tongue around his mouth, tasting Kendall on his lips.
Kendall uncurls his fingers from James’s hair, tugging light at one of the tendrils, stroking soft along the cords straining in James’s neck before cupping his cheek and slumping back against the chair. After a beat, his fingertips slide across James’s face, falling by the wayside, and James scrambles to find his footing, a little shaky.
The toes of his sneakers stick to the floor, but he sort of doesn’t care, flopping into his chair and hoping his hard on isn’t too obvious. Kendall peers out at him from half lidded eyes and for a second or so he just stares, all open and vulnerable. James stares back, thinking about how weird it is that he’s never noticed how gorgeous Kendall’s eyes are. He can taste Kendall in his mouth.
Kendall tries to straighten, but mostly just ends up slumping back again, the metal of his belt buckle still hanging open and clanging loud against the arm rest.
“C’mere,” he mutters, and then his fingers are twisting up against around the back of James’s neck, and he’s pulling him in for a soft, sweet, lazy kiss.
The movie is over. James can hear the credits rolling, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He kisses Kendall back until the lights return, and then, reluctantly, he pulls away. He helps Kendall surreptitiously tuck himself back into his jeans before they head down to the aisle where Logan and Carlos are waiting.
“Why is Kendall smiling? Starscream,” Carlos sniffs, obviously in a delicate state of mind for reasons that James doesn’t really understand.
“Kendall’s smiling for the same reason he always smiles whenever we leave a theater,” Logan hisses, “He was looking up that Carly girl’s skirt. This is why we don’t sit with them anymore.”
Kendall frowns at him, “Why are you mad?”
“That movie made no sense,” Logan fumes. “Why was there a tray of Hennessey and Bushmills in the middle of an office building? Who lets you bring a tray of liquor to work in a cubicle?”
“Starscream?” Carlos suggests.
“If you say that one more time I’m going to choke you. And you two? Could you be any noisier? This is why I didn’t want to come. You, like, objectify the women and critique the clothes.”
“Yeah.” Kendall agrees. “We should stop doing that.”
Carlos asks, “Did you guys like the movie?”
“Oh yeah. Thumbs up. Best film of the year.”
“It was not,” Logan scoffs, and then he launches into a rant about product placement.
James hears, “-and why did they keep calling Soundwave Shockwave?” when he feels Kendall’s fingers in his back pocket. Logan and Carlos don’t seem to have noticed, but James can feel Kendall’s fingers squeeze against his ass, and fuck. Yeah. He’s still more than a little turned on.
He’s planning that Transformers marathon tonight.
---