[fic] Sharpening Their Cleavers And Their Knives - 2/2
Title: Sharpening Their Cleavers And Their Knives
Author:
garnetice
Chapter: Two of Two (Part One)
Pairing: Kendall Knight/James Diamond (offscreen: Logan/Guitar Dude/Mercedes, Logan/Carlos, Camille/Muffy)
Rating: M
Word Count: 5,827 (Both Parts: 11,675)
Warnings: Zombies. Sex. Con that is slightly dub. Naughty language.
Summary: Logan gets horny and starts the zombie apocalypse.
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine.
Author Notes: Technically speaking, this is a sequel. And by technically, I mean that this story draws directly from the meta I used in With Blood In Their Mouths. BUT tonally, this is totally different, and for the most part it can stand alone. However, both stories are directly based on the monster!verse shown in Big Time Halloween, so you might be confused if you haven't seen that episode. Title comes from the song Shankill Butchers (the Sarah Jarosz version), which has absolutely nothing to do with anything in this story and is probably actually a little
inappropriate. Um. Ignore that. OH, AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN, GUYS!
Edit: I am a failure at life and forgot to thank the two people who made posting this possible, and they are my fab betas,
goten0040 and
jblostfan16. Also,
jblostfan16gets extra props for not minding when I text her things like: KENDALL AND JAMES DON'T WANT TO FUCK. SEND ME SEXY THOUGHTS.
---
James has a sudden change of heart when Kendall locks them in the supply closet on the third floor. “A closet. You want us to hide from the vampire slayer in a closet.”
“Where do you suggest? The lobby’s a little bit occupied.”
“They’re not going to eat us. Logan said so.”
“Do you really want to test that theory? What if they run around and eat everyone in the hotel, and suddenly wet dog and dead things start to smell appetizing? They’re already into Carlos. Do you really want Jennifer teeth in your leg?”
“Good point.”
Thing is, James also had a good point about their hiding place. The closet is this tight, enclosed space. There’s nowhere to hide from the overpowering scent of James’s man spray, and it’s annoying that James doesn’t smell like much of anything to Kendall, except for an excess of Cuda. In the old days, he was sweat and something sweet, something piney. He was James. Now it’s like someone took his essence and wrapped it in a zip lock freezer bag, and Kendall can’t scent anything beneath that plastic. And in the closet, there’s nothing to shield Kendall from the flash of his teeth when he smiles nervously, or the predatory look in his eyes, or the faint touch of blood on James’s breath.
“What if Muffy finds us anyway?”
“Chill. Muffy doesn’t know her way around the Palmwoodsylvania.”
“Camille does.”
“Camille doesn’t actually want to kill you, James.”
“I know that,” James says hastily.
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that Camille gets really into her method acting, and when she’s acting all exuberant she might accidently stab me with a stake anyway.” He looks really panicked. Kendall laughs. He can’t help it.
They sit in semi-comfortable silence until James crosses his arms over his knees. He shivers and says, “It’s kind of cold in here.”
“Do you even get cold?”
“Of course I get cold.” James retorts, his lips turning down.
“It’s your fault we’re in here,” Kendall replies reasonably, because he can’t think of anything better to say.
“You don’t think they’re actually going to eat Carlos, right?”
“Not sure,” Kendall mutters. “He should be safe in the apartment for now. Where we’d be, if your psycho girlfriend wasn’t trying to kill you.”
“She’s not psycho. She’s a workaholic. There’s a difference. Besides, no one asked you to save me.”
Kendall levels James with the most sardonic expression in his arsenal. James slumps down against some metal shelving and says, “I appreciate that you’re not leaving me to be slain.”
He only sounds a little resentful about it. Kendall sighs. “Like I would. I can’t lose you, dude. Not after-“ He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Even with Logan and Carlos running around in front of them, starting apocalypses and eating corndogs, the day they lost them is still fresh in both of their memories. “What do you even see in Muffy, anyway? You know what your celebrity mashup name would be? Mames. It’s obviously an omen. A fitting omen, since she wants to maim you.”
“She’s, uh. Intense. I like focus in a girl,” James hums. “She’s great in-“
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” The Wolf and the Boy both rear their heads, one thought flashing hot and angry through their mind; mine. “One of these days, you’re going to fall for a girl who doesn’t have a kink for violence.”
“Hey! I have dated perfectly nice girls. Like Annie.”
“Annie dumped you after a day.”
“She did not dump me!” James yells, voice echoing across aluminum shelving, bouncing off plastic and thin sheetrock. Kendall’s lips press together in warning. More quietly, James continues, “We came to the mutual decision that Malibu’s really far when you don’t have a driver’s license.”
Kendall rolls his eyes. Annie smelled like fish anyway. The Wolf kept wanting to lick her face and see if she tasted like sushi.
“What about Solana?” James suggests.
“You’re joking, right? Gustavo had to call the police for domestic violence like, three times. In three days.”
“Svetlana?”
“Kidnapped you.”
“Aubrey Stewart?”
“Her bodyguards tried to beat the shit out of you, James!”
“You?”
Kendall doesn’t have any response for that.
“You’re right.” James flashes him some fang. “Violence is hot. Besides, Muffy’s nice. She doesn’t treat the whole mortal enemies thing like it’s a death sentence.”
Kendall cocks an eyebrow and pantomimes stabbing.
“For our relationship,” James corrects himself.
“If you die, I’m pretty sure- wait.” His voice catches. “It’s a relationship now?”
“Kendall.”
“James,” Kendall replies, even though there’s a knot the size of Montana forming in his throat. James looks away. And this. This is the thing he hates the most.
Vampirism took James away from him; the old James, the one who smiled as easily as he breathed. Kendall-the-Boy still wants James; he wants him so much and so hard that it’s ridiculous, but he can’t have him. The Wolf hates James exactly because he doesn’t breathe anymore; because he’s a leech with a silent heart and blood on his fangs. And it’s not just about being mortal enemies. It’s a territorial thing. The Wolf staked its own claim on James long before Kendall even knew what it was that he was feeling.
The Wolf doesn’t like losing any more than the Boy does.
Kendall’s maybe starting to freak out and he doesn’t know if it’s from the concept of James actually using the R word or his proximity or the scent of Clorox that permeates the closet. All he knows is he wants out.
The Wolf doesn’t like being caged. It wants to rip the leech apart.
The Boy doesn’t like being caged. He wants to rip James’s clothes off.
“At least Muffy doesn’t hate me,” James announces to a mop, his eyes focused on the shaft of the wooden handle instead of Kendall.
Kendall can’t find the words to reply. James is always leaving him speechless these days.
Minutes pass, endless, stretching long and thin and awkward between them. There are footsteps, and the sound of wood echoing against doors as Muffy and Camille and, from the sound of it, Jett, bang their way down the hallway, calling James’s name.
As their footsteps fade, James hums under his breath. It sounds like the theme to Varsity Basketball.
“Can you stop?” Kendall growls.
“It’s catchy.” James frowns. And then he launches into one of the many tunes from Dracula.
“Did you have a vampire movie marathon last night or something?”
“You’re really grumpy. I know it’s that time of the month, but you don’t have to be so mean.”
James doesn’t know the half of it. Kendall can feel the change vibrating through his body. It would be so easy to go through with it, to become a full Wolf instead of the half man, half beast hybrid he usually prefers. The Wolf is small and fast and smart and it knows how to get away from bloodsucking leeches. But.
It would hurt James.
Kendall squeezes his eyes shut. Control. Control. Control.
“Can we go? I don’t hear Camille and Muffy anymore,” James says.
“They’ve probably moved to the next floor. We should wait a while. Let them check out the apartment before we head back. I mean, that’s where they’re going to expect you to hide.”
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“I have to keep you all safe.” Kendall tells the door, because it’s so much easier than meeting James’s eyes.
“Kendall. I’m not going to die.”
“You’re already-“ Kendall bites off the word, because he can’t call James dead out loud. “You’re just so cold. You always feel so cold, and it’s like-“
Kendall shivers. It’s hard to be accusatory when James is looking at him that way, kind and weary. “Let’s not do this right now.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you allude to how much you hate me being a vampire, and I get mad because I don’t hate it, and you get mad at yourself for not being there when I changed, and then we break out the snarky comments and pretend it doesn’t matter. Let’s skip that.” James says, and he sounds so sad and tired that even the Wolf feels a little bit guilty. If Kendall had a tail at the moment, it would be tucked between his legs.
“Okay,” Kendall says quietly. Then: “I don’t hate you, dude. Just…” Kendall wiggles his index fingers in front of his mouth, hoping it’s a clear sign for fangs.
“I know, but those are a part of me.” James shrugs. “It’s the same difference.”
“But-“
“No buts. I like the blood, Kendall. It’s not some demon living inside of me who enjoys it. It’s me. And I like being fast and strong and sparkly.” James grins faintly. “The only thing about being a vampire that I can’t stand is- you.”
Kendall gets that, kind of. He’s had his problems with the Wolf in the back of his mind, but for all its hairy little faults, the thing has been living inside of him since he was little. When he was sad, the Wolf curled around him, protecting his thoughts and his heart. When he was mad, the Wolf taught him to hunt; to scheme. When he was happy, the Wolf taught him to run. Kendall doesn’t actually know what it’s like to exist without a hungry animal inside of him. The one time he’s felt its absence, after the Hot Boy Band machine, he felt a little bit lost.
He doesn’t know how everyone else does it. It’s a little weird to think that James- and Logan- might be the only people who understand that.
And maybe Carlos, but Carlos has never been really clear about what it is he hungers for. Other than corndogs.
“I think.” Kendall takes a deep breath. He’s good at honesty, but not so much at openness. The two are different things, and the latter involves showing off the parts of himself that are vulnerable. Kendall doesn’t like to be exposed the same way he doesn’t like to feel closed in. He’s all about the happy medium. “I think it’s easier for you than it is for me.”
“You think? Maybe I just have better self control,” James retorts. Kendall wants to argue, but that might actually be true. It’s funny, because it’s James; silly, impulsive, ridiculous James, who can’t walk into a salon without cleaning out every product on the shelves. He has all kinds of addictions when it comes to like, man spray and v-neck shirts, but he’s got more restraint when it comes to other things. Emotional things. Like anger. Or love.
James just…distances himself better, where Kendall always feels too close, too strong, too raw. And tonight?
It’s not a full moon, but it’s only a day away. Kendall can feel the call. It’s an electric current in his body. James definitely has more self control than Kendall on full moon nights.
The Wolf owns Kendall completely. There is already a glow in his eyes, the reflection of the moon telling him to turn.
“I wish I was better at it,” Kendall says wistfully. “I wish being near you wasn’t so hard.”
Something flashes in James’s eyes, and Kendall only has a second to think that he’s said the wrong thing. James crosses the closet so fast that Kendall can barely track it.
“Maybe if we-“ James says, voice strangled. Kendall presses back against the door.
“If we what?” Kendall asks, voice breaking. He grits his teeth, digging his nails into the wooden door.
He wants to strip off of his clothes and let James fuck him against the supply closet floor.
He wants to sink his teeth into James’s chest until he reaches his silent, unmoving heart.
James reaches out, hands resting feather light against Kendall’s hips, and it’s like there is this thread between them, drawing their lips close. And they follow it, swaying back and forth drunkenly, resisting and giving in.
“You have dog breath.” James mumbles.
“You have clammy hands,” Kendall retorts.
He doesn’t though, not even close. James brushes his lips soft against Kendall’s cheek. Kendall crosses his arms between them and tries not to feel so naked.
James takes a shaky, unnecessary breath. And then he kisses Kendall.
What they share is dangerous; blood and claws and possessive jealousy. The only thing that keeps Kendall from ripping James’s throat out right there is his tenuous grasp on the memory of a boy, of the way James has always made his head pound and his jeans tight and his heart love too much. Kendall holds on, just barely; but that doesn’t mean he’s not on the edge of losing control. Maybe James senses that, because the kiss doesn’t last. His hands move up until he’s got Kendall by the shoulders and then James spins him around so that
Kendall’s face is pressed into the wood of the door. He lifts Kendall’s shirt up and over his head, and Kendall is suddenly certain. Their first time together was tender; shared breath and swelling desire. This will be different; James is going to fuck him until he can’t see straight.
James’s fingers press bruises into Kendall’s biceps, his chest a long, hard line against Kendall’s back. Kendall tries to grab the door knob, but James’s hands pull back at his arms, smoothing down until he’s got Kendall’s wrists crossed behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going? You don’t get to run away this time,” James growls into the nape of Kendall’s neck.
“I thought,” Kendall groans, testing the strength of James’s grip. James is holding him with one arm, now, and he’s still ridiculously strong.
“You were a nice vampire now?”
“Not for you,” James murmurs. Kendall tries to make a break for it, the Wolf telling him to fight. James doesn’t let go. He’s got a steely grip, and a sick sense of humor.
“Maybe Mercedes is right about that leash.” James hisses into Kendall’s hair, “Get on your knees.”
Kendall does, sinking down until his jeans touch bare concrete. There’s this moment when Kendall’s on his knees and James hasn’t deigned to sink down yet, where the angle of Kendall’s arms twisted up behind his back is almost painful. That moment stretches to the point where Kendall knows that James is hurting him on purpose, where the sockets of his arms are screaming out in pain, and then-
James sinks to the floor.
James unbuttons Kendall’s pants from behind with his free hand, and it’s like all that Kendall can see of him is a flash of pale skin. He watches as the denim of his jeans falls away, pushed down to his thighs. James’s pale fingers wrap around the shaft of his cock and oh. His limbs feel all shaky, like his blood has turned molten in his veins, like everything inside of him is going to bubble over. There is heat low in his stomach. There is thunder clouding his mind and moonlight glowing under his skin.
It’s been a year to the day since the last time they managed to go all the way, back when the Hot Boy Band Machine actually worked, and
Logan wasn’t holding out on them. They’ve been this far before. Usually, they get to the good part, and Kendall lets the Wolf take over.
He bites and he claws his way out.
He runs.
But right now, there’s nowhere to run to. He is trapped, trapped, trapped. James has his hands behind his back, and no matter how much Kendall struggles he can’t get away. The human part of him doesn’t want to. The Wolf growls. The Boy does too. The noise spills from Kendall’s throat, low and throaty and laced with lust.
James pauses, just for a beat. “If you don’t want this, tell me no. Say no, Kendall.”
Kendall presses his lips together. Inside of his head, he hears howling, the rush of blood in his head and the monster living inside of him trying to protest. But at the core of him, Kendall does not want to say no. He wants to say yesyesyes.
He is too proud to do it, so he keeps his lips closed, keeps the simultaneous rush of yesnoyesno inside of him, and watches the wall.
James takes it as the affirmative he needs. “Do me a favor.” He murmurs against Kendall’s spine. “Don’t turn into a dog during this.”
James presses a saliva-slick finger inside of him. Even with the spit it hurts, a kind of raw, sharp pain. Kendall squirms. James just pushes in another finger. Fucking sadist.
This is the part they never get past, the part where Kendall feels his claws start to come out. The part where he runs. The Wolf is desperate.
It wants out. And Kendall just wants this; James with his hands all over him. It doesn’t matter how rough he is. There is moonlight behind his eyes, but he tamps it down, his control tenuous. Every time James curves his fingers inside of him, it nearly slips away.
The pain is dulling, replaced by pleasure that his body responds to almost involuntarily, like an itch that he needs scratched, helplessly.
The Wolf is pissed. Kendall isn’t supposed to just bend over and take it like a bitch in heat. He’s the alpha male here. He’s the one in charge.
Except, apparently, he isn’t. Fight or flee or stay, his mind screams, and Kendall chooses stay. The choice isn’t Darwinian of him, nor is the way he’s pushing back on James’s fingers like they’re the only thing he’s ever wanted from his life.
James’s hands really aren’t clammy. They are wet with the viscosity of his own saliva and the messy sheen of Kendall’s precum. They are hot and tight and pulling at the core of him; bruising his wrists, bruising his insides.
When Kendall strains his head back, he can just barely glimpse James. Weirdly he looks sweaty and nervous, wan with yearning. Kendall decides it must be his imagination, because James barely ever sweats, and he does not yearn. Not for Kendall on his knees in the middle of a supply closet.
At first James doesn’t make a noise, which is unnerving because Kendall’s grunting and panting and basically providing a soundtrack for every little thing that James does to him. Meanwhile James doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to breathe. Kendall supposes it’s hard to get a vampire to forget they’re a vampire, even in the midst of all this debauchery. James’s fingers stop working Kendall open from the inside out. He withdraws, and it’s a hollow feeling, unnerving with the addition of the silence. Kendall is so hot and high, like a burning star, but behind him there is only the soft rustle of clothes as James undoes the front of his pants.
All of that changes the second James pushes inside of him, a guttural groan filling the air. Kendall can barely concentrate on it, too busy ripping one of his arms from James’s grip, breaking free against his thumb just in time to smother a startled yelp that comes out sounding more like a bark. Kendall bites the sound into the flesh of his own arm, his vision wavering between dull, human sight and sharper Wolf vision, making every grain in the door clear.
He always kind of figured that sex with James would be like sex with a marble statue. Even though all the make out sessions they’d had as monsters had been satisfactorily hot, Kendall had been paying more attention the Wolf’s desperate instincts to flee than what James felt like under his fingertips. Now he knows different. Now Kendall is burning up from the inside out, between James and the feeling of being owned completely; the press of James’s palm flat against Kendall’s spine and the call of the moon in his veins, in his blood, stretching him until he feels too thin, too hot, too everything all at once.
James licks a stripe across the nape of his neck, his teeth scraping and bumping over bone. He keeps the rhythm steady, paces out each thrust no matter how desperately Kendall tries to get him to speed up, and he never, ever lets up, not even to pause for breath. It’s nothing at all like the first time, when they fumbled all over each other, trying to figure out the mechanics of what and where and how, desperate to consummate years of yearning. This is so different; moonlight and blood, claws and fangs. James is turning his insides to deadly quicksilver, and Kendall is dying, slowly, blissfully. That has to be it. James is a fuckmachine of a man, relentless, but Kendall is apparently into that; every time he withdraws he feels slick and hollow and empty and grinds back to meet the impending course of his dick, desperate for the pressure of him sliding against Kendall and the heat of the friction they build between them.
And James is so noisy now; he moans appreciatively whenever Kendall does something he likes, and he talks, babbles incoherently. He mumbles words into Kendall’s skin. They’re low, low enough that a human wouldn’t be able to make them out, but Kendall’s Wolf ears pick them up; things like infuriating and irresistible. Kendall doesn’t know who is saying what; the Boy or the leech. He knows James- the human part of James- is attracted to him; and Kendall cherishes that knowledge. But he never even thought that the bloodsucker in him might feel that way too.
James fists his free hand in Kendall’s hair, exposing his neck. He bites down, but he doesn’t break flesh, standing on the edge of control as he fucks inside of him. Kendall’s so close, he’s teetering on the edge of it like a star, a supernova building inside of his stomach. And he realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, that James’s grip on his left wrist has slipped; it has transformed into the loose lace of their fingers. Kendall groans and thrusts back, trying to meet James halfway, trying to get him closer, deeper. There is this tight heat in his stomach, building up the shaft of his dick and he wants to be touched, he begs to be touched, but James’s hand is still tangled in Kendall’s hair, his mouth still a wet press against Kendall’s neck. Kendall has to wrap his own hand around himself, leaning most of his weight into James. James takes it, hand moving to wrap around the front of Kendall’s neck, light but strong. His body is a long line of heat against Kendall’s back.
James thrusts up, their thighs slapping together, and bites down, teeth breaking skin. Kendall comes like that, shuddering with the head of James’s cock hot against his prostate. It doesn’t take James long after, or maybe it does; Kendall’s riding out the longest fucking orgasm he’s had in a while, and it’s only when his body stops trembling that he realizes James is slumped against him, completely sated.
The two of them slump forward against the door, James’s softening dick still half inside of Kendall. Kendall, for his part, is shocked at how comfortable he feels right in that moment. There’s no animosity left in his chest or in his head. When James withdraws, he does it gingerly, and then he extricates their interlaced fingers. Kendall misses the feel of it, just for a moment before James slings an arm around Kendall’s neck, pulling him in close. The Wolf doesn’t bother trying to struggle; it wants to snuggle up next to James. It whispers words in Kendall’s head, things that Kendall isn’t one hundred percent ready to do or feel. He reddens.
“What?” James asks, like the color of Kendall’s cheek is lighting up the room.
“Nothing,” he says quickly. But then, curiously, he asks, “What was it like?”
“What?”
“The, um. The bite?” Kendall reaches up and strokes a finger soft along James’s neck, the palest of scars visible; twin puncture holes that make him cringe every time he sees them. Now he's got a bite of his own, a dull throb against his skin. The hurt doesn't bother him; it feels more like a badge of honor than something painful.
“It wasn’t bad,” James says softly, his eyes going all distant. It’s how Kendall can tell he’s lying.
“I should have been there.”
James warns, “Kendall-“
“No, I should have. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection.” James’s grip on his shoulder turns steely. “Not anymore.”
The thought troubles Kendall, and maybe James sees that. Softly, he tells him, “We can protect each other now.”
---
Kendall hasn’t felt as comfortable as he does during the walk back to 2J in a long time. It’s like something has clicked right in his head; he can hold James’s hand in the middle of the hallway and the Wolf just makes this contented sound. It’s like all the monster was waiting for was Kendall, giving in. He twirls the hockey stick in his free hand and walks into the apartment with a smile tugging on his lips. Its short lived. No one’s in the living room, so James makes a beeline for his door, throwing Kendall a devilish smirk.
Except the door opens on its own.
Or not. Camille’s standing there. Camille looks kind of…rumpled.
“Is your shirt on backwards?” Is Kendall’s first question, for reasons he can’t really explain. He knows there’s more important things begging to be asked, but. Well.
Camille looks down. “It’s supposed to look like that.”
“Is that a hickey on your neck?” James’s eyes bug out.
“Bug bite,” she explains.
“That is a huge fucking bug.”
Right then, Muffy stumbles up behind Camille, and she looks a little worse than rumbled. Her shirt is torn, and her eyes are a little wild.
Kendall’s first thought is that a zombie escaped into James’s bedroom. Then he realizes how red her lips are, and how her pants are not done up right at all.
Kendall stares. And stares. And stares.
Hot, he decides.
“Did you guys just- in my bed?” James asks, outraged. Kendall snorts. He can almost hear the unsaid without me.
Normally, this would be the time when the Wolf would rear up in a kind of jealous rage. Instead, it gives a contented snuffle. It wants Kendall to nuzzle his head into James. Apparently leech isn’t so bad when the Wolf can smell the scent of Kendall’s sweat still drying on James’s skin.
Camille frowns. “Kendall’s door was locked.”
“Oh, for the love of- where’s Logan and Carlos?”
“Probably in Kendall’s room.” And then Camille closes the door in their face. They hear the click of the lock.
“Okay then.” Kendall says. James starts up a tirade, but Kendall mostly ignores it as they make their way down the hall. He knows James doesn’t mean it; his hand is still interlocked with Kendall’s.
Fortunately, no one is banging in Kendall’s room. What’s going on there is much more bizarre.
“What are you doing?” Kendall asks, confused by what he’s seeing.
Jett and Carlos are involved in a very intense game of Monopoly. And Logan? Logan looks up from the papers arranged in front of him. “Homework.”
“What?”
“Education is important.”
“Miss Collins is already zombified. I doubt she’s going to force you to hand in your report on Hamlet.”
“Well, I didn’t have anything better to do.” Logan crosses his arms and gives Kendall and James a look like he knows exactly what they’ve been up to. “So. Um. How do we reverse this?”
Kendall frowns. He’s got ideas, certainly. He’s like, the king of ideas. Just. He needs to think of them, and what with all the drooly faced man eating monsters running around, and the fantastic sex, his brain’s not exactly in prime thinking mode. So he goes with his best bet.
“Mom! Where’s mom?”
“She just got home. She’s in her room, I think.”
“Mom!” Kendall yells.
Mrs. Knight comes running. “What, what? What’s wrong?”
She’s in the midst of taking off her coat, and Kendall realizes something. “Mom! How did you get into the hotel?”
Mrs. Knight’s forehead furrows. “Buddha bob opened the door for me.”
“But Buddha bob’s a zombie.”
“Oh. He did look green.” His mom makes a face. “Why is Buddha Bob a zombie?”
“Logan’s been going around biting people,” James explains.
“Hey!”
“Logan. Honey. What did your mother tell you about biting people?”
“That it’s not polite.” Logan sulks. Kendall remembers that lecture. They were four, and Logan insisted on nibbling on Carlos’s fingers every time he did something stupid. Which was always. Of course, they hadn’t been monsters back then. Kendall’s the only one who was born with it. Logan whines, “I only bit Guitar Dude, though.”
“Guitar Dude? Really? Logan, he hasn’t bathed in a week.”
“I like that.”
Mrs. Knight’s eyes bug out. She says, “Moving along. There’s got to be a spell in the book somewhere…”
The group of them move into the living room. Mrs. Knight finds the book beneath a can of soda. “Katie! I thought I told you to stop using the book as a coaster.”
Katie yells something from down the hall. Mrs. Knight clicks her tongue and picks up the book and her reading glasses. She starts poring over the pages, but Kendall realizes they haven’t explained quite everything yet. “Hey, uh, mom?”
“Yes, honey?” His mother looks at him over her reading glasses, eyes bright. She loves this witchy stuff.
“Uh. Do you think you could fix Jennifer’s head? And um, Tyler’s mom?”
“What happened to Jennifer’s head and Mrs. Duncan?”
“Um. I might have, um. Hit Jennifer with this.” Kendall twirls the hockey stick in his hands.
“Kendall! You don’t hit people with hockey sticks!”
“She was trying to eat Camille.”
Mrs. Knight rubs her temples. “And what about Tyler’s mom?”
“Um. Muffy might have decapitated her.” Mrs. Knight’s eyes widen.
“I might need another spell for that. It happened, uh…post-zombification?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh good,” she breathes. “I wouldn’t be able to bring her back if she wasn’t infected when it happened.”
And Kendall knows that; his mom has witchy rules. He spent a good year of his life and longer resenting her for them. He still kind of does. Maybe if his mom had agreed to bring Logan and Carlos back after the crash, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have the imprint of fangs in his shoulder and a constant ache in his heart for the better part of the past two years.
“I need a zombie.” She looks at Kendall. “Go on. Fetch.” Slowly, Logan raises a hand. “You won’t work, sweetie. I need one who wasn’t already dead.”
“Right. Logan, James, you can come with me to the lobby. We’ll need supplies,” Kendall decides.
“Sure. Jett, look after Carlos,” James orders.
“Okay. Hey, what’s-“
“Do not touch the miniature Hot Boy Band Machine,” Logan instructs, eyes narrowing. Jett does not seem even a little bit impressed by the
growl that’s edged into his voice. Carlos laughs.
James makes a face. “Maybe I should, um. Stay here and watch Jett.”
“Good idea.”
In the elevator, Kendall tells Logan, “I can’t believe you didn’t let us use the machine.”
“Wouldn’t it have made things worse? An hour at a time…Kendall, it’s not nearly enough,” Logan says wistfully. “I saw you guys holding hands. At least this way you’ve worked it out on your own. You don’t need the machine.”
Kendall suddenly feels bad about all the safe-zombie-sex jokes. Logan doesn’t exactly have a lot of options when it comes to love these days.
“I, uh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, um.” He’s bad at apologies. But Logan smiles, like he knows what Kendall’s talking about. “Do you ever wish you were a witch? Then you’d be able to fix all of this on your own.”
Kendall thinks about it. He’s never been completely onboard with Wolfing out. But, objectively speaking, his hairy little problem causes a regular disturbance in his life maybe three days a month, tops.
Katie accidentally blows something up every few minutes or so.
“Nah. Don’t worry, though. Mom’s going to take care of everything. She’s good at that.”
“Kendall?”
“Yeah?” The elevator dings.
“I’m sorry for starting the apocalypse.”
“Don’t be. You keep life interesting,” Kendall grins, knocking their shoulders together as the doors slide open. “Now go get me a zombie.”
It’s actually pretty easy. Logan walks up to the first undead person he finds, taps the zombie on the shoulder and asks, “Hey, does this smell like chloroform to you?”
He holds up a drenched rag over the thing’s nose. The zombie slumps into his arms.
Logan looks towards Kendall. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
From there, they drag the zombie, who just so happens to be a douchey new actor from apartment 4G up to Kendall’s mom. All it takes is two hours of bringing her coffee and a simple spell to reverse the curse. Color floods back into the zombie’s skin, a spark of life lights up his eyes, and then they have to kick the guy out of the apartment because he’s such a douchebag. As far as spells go, it’s easy-peasy.
Kicking Muffy and Camille out of James’s room takes longer.
Convincing Muffy that Kendall will legitimately tear out her throat if she lays a finger on James takes most of the night.
But right before bed, the lobby is full of humans and laughter, and James still has a stake-free heart. All in all, the day has been wildly successful. They guys stretch out on the couch, watching Zombieland, which seems apropos at the time. Carlos and Logan have already exhausted their energy, and they’ve sagged against each other, snoring lightly. They have the right idea.
“Happy Halloween,” Kendall tells James sleepily, curling into his arms.
“Happy Halloween,” James replies, kissing the top of Kendall’s head. The two of them fall asleep to the sound of Jesse Eisenberg instructing them on how to survive the zombie apocalypse, secure in the knowledge that the only zombie within ten miles is Logan.
Everyone thinks that’s the end of it until the following morning, when an undead boy bites one of the hosts of Good Day LA on live television while they’re all eating breakfast.
Kendall watches, only mildly concerned. “Mom, when Buddha bob let you in yesterday, did anyone else, um. Get out?”
“I’ll get the book,” Mrs. Knight says heavily.
“I’m gonna go invest in machetes,” Katie decides.
“I’m gonna-“ Logan pauses when everyone glares at him “-cease to have a sex life.”
FrankenCarlos makes a sad noise.
“Gross,” Katie says.
James just squeezes Kendall’s ass on his way to grab some OJ. Kendall, Wolf-Boy, Boy-and-Wolf, sighs contentedly. “Let’s break out the machetes after breakfast. Who wants pancakes?”
---
Author:
garnetice
Chapter: Two of Two (Part One)
Pairing: Kendall Knight/James Diamond (offscreen: Logan/Guitar Dude/Mercedes, Logan/Carlos, Camille/Muffy)
Rating: M
Word Count: 5,827 (Both Parts: 11,675)
Warnings: Zombies. Sex. Con that is slightly dub. Naughty language.
Summary: Logan gets horny and starts the zombie apocalypse.
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine.
Author Notes: Technically speaking, this is a sequel. And by technically, I mean that this story draws directly from the meta I used in With Blood In Their Mouths. BUT tonally, this is totally different, and for the most part it can stand alone. However, both stories are directly based on the monster!verse shown in Big Time Halloween, so you might be confused if you haven't seen that episode. Title comes from the song Shankill Butchers (the Sarah Jarosz version), which has absolutely nothing to do with anything in this story and is probably actually a little
inappropriate. Um. Ignore that. OH, AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN, GUYS!
Edit: I am a failure at life and forgot to thank the two people who made posting this possible, and they are my fab betas,
goten0040 and
jblostfan16. Also,
jblostfan16gets extra props for not minding when I text her things like: KENDALL AND JAMES DON'T WANT TO FUCK. SEND ME SEXY THOUGHTS.
---
James has a sudden change of heart when Kendall locks them in the supply closet on the third floor. “A closet. You want us to hide from the vampire slayer in a closet.”
“Where do you suggest? The lobby’s a little bit occupied.”
“They’re not going to eat us. Logan said so.”
“Do you really want to test that theory? What if they run around and eat everyone in the hotel, and suddenly wet dog and dead things start to smell appetizing? They’re already into Carlos. Do you really want Jennifer teeth in your leg?”
“Good point.”
Thing is, James also had a good point about their hiding place. The closet is this tight, enclosed space. There’s nowhere to hide from the overpowering scent of James’s man spray, and it’s annoying that James doesn’t smell like much of anything to Kendall, except for an excess of Cuda. In the old days, he was sweat and something sweet, something piney. He was James. Now it’s like someone took his essence and wrapped it in a zip lock freezer bag, and Kendall can’t scent anything beneath that plastic. And in the closet, there’s nothing to shield Kendall from the flash of his teeth when he smiles nervously, or the predatory look in his eyes, or the faint touch of blood on James’s breath.
“What if Muffy finds us anyway?”
“Chill. Muffy doesn’t know her way around the Palmwoodsylvania.”
“Camille does.”
“Camille doesn’t actually want to kill you, James.”
“I know that,” James says hastily.
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that Camille gets really into her method acting, and when she’s acting all exuberant she might accidently stab me with a stake anyway.” He looks really panicked. Kendall laughs. He can’t help it.
They sit in semi-comfortable silence until James crosses his arms over his knees. He shivers and says, “It’s kind of cold in here.”
“Do you even get cold?”
“Of course I get cold.” James retorts, his lips turning down.
“It’s your fault we’re in here,” Kendall replies reasonably, because he can’t think of anything better to say.
“You don’t think they’re actually going to eat Carlos, right?”
“Not sure,” Kendall mutters. “He should be safe in the apartment for now. Where we’d be, if your psycho girlfriend wasn’t trying to kill you.”
“She’s not psycho. She’s a workaholic. There’s a difference. Besides, no one asked you to save me.”
Kendall levels James with the most sardonic expression in his arsenal. James slumps down against some metal shelving and says, “I appreciate that you’re not leaving me to be slain.”
He only sounds a little resentful about it. Kendall sighs. “Like I would. I can’t lose you, dude. Not after-“ He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Even with Logan and Carlos running around in front of them, starting apocalypses and eating corndogs, the day they lost them is still fresh in both of their memories. “What do you even see in Muffy, anyway? You know what your celebrity mashup name would be? Mames. It’s obviously an omen. A fitting omen, since she wants to maim you.”
“She’s, uh. Intense. I like focus in a girl,” James hums. “She’s great in-“
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” The Wolf and the Boy both rear their heads, one thought flashing hot and angry through their mind; mine. “One of these days, you’re going to fall for a girl who doesn’t have a kink for violence.”
“Hey! I have dated perfectly nice girls. Like Annie.”
“Annie dumped you after a day.”
“She did not dump me!” James yells, voice echoing across aluminum shelving, bouncing off plastic and thin sheetrock. Kendall’s lips press together in warning. More quietly, James continues, “We came to the mutual decision that Malibu’s really far when you don’t have a driver’s license.”
Kendall rolls his eyes. Annie smelled like fish anyway. The Wolf kept wanting to lick her face and see if she tasted like sushi.
“What about Solana?” James suggests.
“You’re joking, right? Gustavo had to call the police for domestic violence like, three times. In three days.”
“Svetlana?”
“Kidnapped you.”
“Aubrey Stewart?”
“Her bodyguards tried to beat the shit out of you, James!”
“You?”
Kendall doesn’t have any response for that.
“You’re right.” James flashes him some fang. “Violence is hot. Besides, Muffy’s nice. She doesn’t treat the whole mortal enemies thing like it’s a death sentence.”
Kendall cocks an eyebrow and pantomimes stabbing.
“For our relationship,” James corrects himself.
“If you die, I’m pretty sure- wait.” His voice catches. “It’s a relationship now?”
“Kendall.”
“James,” Kendall replies, even though there’s a knot the size of Montana forming in his throat. James looks away. And this. This is the thing he hates the most.
Vampirism took James away from him; the old James, the one who smiled as easily as he breathed. Kendall-the-Boy still wants James; he wants him so much and so hard that it’s ridiculous, but he can’t have him. The Wolf hates James exactly because he doesn’t breathe anymore; because he’s a leech with a silent heart and blood on his fangs. And it’s not just about being mortal enemies. It’s a territorial thing. The Wolf staked its own claim on James long before Kendall even knew what it was that he was feeling.
The Wolf doesn’t like losing any more than the Boy does.
Kendall’s maybe starting to freak out and he doesn’t know if it’s from the concept of James actually using the R word or his proximity or the scent of Clorox that permeates the closet. All he knows is he wants out.
The Wolf doesn’t like being caged. It wants to rip the leech apart.
The Boy doesn’t like being caged. He wants to rip James’s clothes off.
“At least Muffy doesn’t hate me,” James announces to a mop, his eyes focused on the shaft of the wooden handle instead of Kendall.
Kendall can’t find the words to reply. James is always leaving him speechless these days.
Minutes pass, endless, stretching long and thin and awkward between them. There are footsteps, and the sound of wood echoing against doors as Muffy and Camille and, from the sound of it, Jett, bang their way down the hallway, calling James’s name.
As their footsteps fade, James hums under his breath. It sounds like the theme to Varsity Basketball.
“Can you stop?” Kendall growls.
“It’s catchy.” James frowns. And then he launches into one of the many tunes from Dracula.
“Did you have a vampire movie marathon last night or something?”
“You’re really grumpy. I know it’s that time of the month, but you don’t have to be so mean.”
James doesn’t know the half of it. Kendall can feel the change vibrating through his body. It would be so easy to go through with it, to become a full Wolf instead of the half man, half beast hybrid he usually prefers. The Wolf is small and fast and smart and it knows how to get away from bloodsucking leeches. But.
It would hurt James.
Kendall squeezes his eyes shut. Control. Control. Control.
“Can we go? I don’t hear Camille and Muffy anymore,” James says.
“They’ve probably moved to the next floor. We should wait a while. Let them check out the apartment before we head back. I mean, that’s where they’re going to expect you to hide.”
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“I have to keep you all safe.” Kendall tells the door, because it’s so much easier than meeting James’s eyes.
“Kendall. I’m not going to die.”
“You’re already-“ Kendall bites off the word, because he can’t call James dead out loud. “You’re just so cold. You always feel so cold, and it’s like-“
Kendall shivers. It’s hard to be accusatory when James is looking at him that way, kind and weary. “Let’s not do this right now.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you allude to how much you hate me being a vampire, and I get mad because I don’t hate it, and you get mad at yourself for not being there when I changed, and then we break out the snarky comments and pretend it doesn’t matter. Let’s skip that.” James says, and he sounds so sad and tired that even the Wolf feels a little bit guilty. If Kendall had a tail at the moment, it would be tucked between his legs.
“Okay,” Kendall says quietly. Then: “I don’t hate you, dude. Just…” Kendall wiggles his index fingers in front of his mouth, hoping it’s a clear sign for fangs.
“I know, but those are a part of me.” James shrugs. “It’s the same difference.”
“But-“
“No buts. I like the blood, Kendall. It’s not some demon living inside of me who enjoys it. It’s me. And I like being fast and strong and sparkly.” James grins faintly. “The only thing about being a vampire that I can’t stand is- you.”
Kendall gets that, kind of. He’s had his problems with the Wolf in the back of his mind, but for all its hairy little faults, the thing has been living inside of him since he was little. When he was sad, the Wolf curled around him, protecting his thoughts and his heart. When he was mad, the Wolf taught him to hunt; to scheme. When he was happy, the Wolf taught him to run. Kendall doesn’t actually know what it’s like to exist without a hungry animal inside of him. The one time he’s felt its absence, after the Hot Boy Band machine, he felt a little bit lost.
He doesn’t know how everyone else does it. It’s a little weird to think that James- and Logan- might be the only people who understand that.
And maybe Carlos, but Carlos has never been really clear about what it is he hungers for. Other than corndogs.
“I think.” Kendall takes a deep breath. He’s good at honesty, but not so much at openness. The two are different things, and the latter involves showing off the parts of himself that are vulnerable. Kendall doesn’t like to be exposed the same way he doesn’t like to feel closed in. He’s all about the happy medium. “I think it’s easier for you than it is for me.”
“You think? Maybe I just have better self control,” James retorts. Kendall wants to argue, but that might actually be true. It’s funny, because it’s James; silly, impulsive, ridiculous James, who can’t walk into a salon without cleaning out every product on the shelves. He has all kinds of addictions when it comes to like, man spray and v-neck shirts, but he’s got more restraint when it comes to other things. Emotional things. Like anger. Or love.
James just…distances himself better, where Kendall always feels too close, too strong, too raw. And tonight?
It’s not a full moon, but it’s only a day away. Kendall can feel the call. It’s an electric current in his body. James definitely has more self control than Kendall on full moon nights.
The Wolf owns Kendall completely. There is already a glow in his eyes, the reflection of the moon telling him to turn.
“I wish I was better at it,” Kendall says wistfully. “I wish being near you wasn’t so hard.”
Something flashes in James’s eyes, and Kendall only has a second to think that he’s said the wrong thing. James crosses the closet so fast that Kendall can barely track it.
“Maybe if we-“ James says, voice strangled. Kendall presses back against the door.
“If we what?” Kendall asks, voice breaking. He grits his teeth, digging his nails into the wooden door.
He wants to strip off of his clothes and let James fuck him against the supply closet floor.
He wants to sink his teeth into James’s chest until he reaches his silent, unmoving heart.
James reaches out, hands resting feather light against Kendall’s hips, and it’s like there is this thread between them, drawing their lips close. And they follow it, swaying back and forth drunkenly, resisting and giving in.
“You have dog breath.” James mumbles.
“You have clammy hands,” Kendall retorts.
He doesn’t though, not even close. James brushes his lips soft against Kendall’s cheek. Kendall crosses his arms between them and tries not to feel so naked.
James takes a shaky, unnecessary breath. And then he kisses Kendall.
What they share is dangerous; blood and claws and possessive jealousy. The only thing that keeps Kendall from ripping James’s throat out right there is his tenuous grasp on the memory of a boy, of the way James has always made his head pound and his jeans tight and his heart love too much. Kendall holds on, just barely; but that doesn’t mean he’s not on the edge of losing control. Maybe James senses that, because the kiss doesn’t last. His hands move up until he’s got Kendall by the shoulders and then James spins him around so that
Kendall’s face is pressed into the wood of the door. He lifts Kendall’s shirt up and over his head, and Kendall is suddenly certain. Their first time together was tender; shared breath and swelling desire. This will be different; James is going to fuck him until he can’t see straight.
James’s fingers press bruises into Kendall’s biceps, his chest a long, hard line against Kendall’s back. Kendall tries to grab the door knob, but James’s hands pull back at his arms, smoothing down until he’s got Kendall’s wrists crossed behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going? You don’t get to run away this time,” James growls into the nape of Kendall’s neck.
“I thought,” Kendall groans, testing the strength of James’s grip. James is holding him with one arm, now, and he’s still ridiculously strong.
“You were a nice vampire now?”
“Not for you,” James murmurs. Kendall tries to make a break for it, the Wolf telling him to fight. James doesn’t let go. He’s got a steely grip, and a sick sense of humor.
“Maybe Mercedes is right about that leash.” James hisses into Kendall’s hair, “Get on your knees.”
Kendall does, sinking down until his jeans touch bare concrete. There’s this moment when Kendall’s on his knees and James hasn’t deigned to sink down yet, where the angle of Kendall’s arms twisted up behind his back is almost painful. That moment stretches to the point where Kendall knows that James is hurting him on purpose, where the sockets of his arms are screaming out in pain, and then-
James sinks to the floor.
James unbuttons Kendall’s pants from behind with his free hand, and it’s like all that Kendall can see of him is a flash of pale skin. He watches as the denim of his jeans falls away, pushed down to his thighs. James’s pale fingers wrap around the shaft of his cock and oh. His limbs feel all shaky, like his blood has turned molten in his veins, like everything inside of him is going to bubble over. There is heat low in his stomach. There is thunder clouding his mind and moonlight glowing under his skin.
It’s been a year to the day since the last time they managed to go all the way, back when the Hot Boy Band Machine actually worked, and
Logan wasn’t holding out on them. They’ve been this far before. Usually, they get to the good part, and Kendall lets the Wolf take over.
He bites and he claws his way out.
He runs.
But right now, there’s nowhere to run to. He is trapped, trapped, trapped. James has his hands behind his back, and no matter how much Kendall struggles he can’t get away. The human part of him doesn’t want to. The Wolf growls. The Boy does too. The noise spills from Kendall’s throat, low and throaty and laced with lust.
James pauses, just for a beat. “If you don’t want this, tell me no. Say no, Kendall.”
Kendall presses his lips together. Inside of his head, he hears howling, the rush of blood in his head and the monster living inside of him trying to protest. But at the core of him, Kendall does not want to say no. He wants to say yesyesyes.
He is too proud to do it, so he keeps his lips closed, keeps the simultaneous rush of yesnoyesno inside of him, and watches the wall.
James takes it as the affirmative he needs. “Do me a favor.” He murmurs against Kendall’s spine. “Don’t turn into a dog during this.”
James presses a saliva-slick finger inside of him. Even with the spit it hurts, a kind of raw, sharp pain. Kendall squirms. James just pushes in another finger. Fucking sadist.
This is the part they never get past, the part where Kendall feels his claws start to come out. The part where he runs. The Wolf is desperate.
It wants out. And Kendall just wants this; James with his hands all over him. It doesn’t matter how rough he is. There is moonlight behind his eyes, but he tamps it down, his control tenuous. Every time James curves his fingers inside of him, it nearly slips away.
The pain is dulling, replaced by pleasure that his body responds to almost involuntarily, like an itch that he needs scratched, helplessly.
The Wolf is pissed. Kendall isn’t supposed to just bend over and take it like a bitch in heat. He’s the alpha male here. He’s the one in charge.
Except, apparently, he isn’t. Fight or flee or stay, his mind screams, and Kendall chooses stay. The choice isn’t Darwinian of him, nor is the way he’s pushing back on James’s fingers like they’re the only thing he’s ever wanted from his life.
James’s hands really aren’t clammy. They are wet with the viscosity of his own saliva and the messy sheen of Kendall’s precum. They are hot and tight and pulling at the core of him; bruising his wrists, bruising his insides.
When Kendall strains his head back, he can just barely glimpse James. Weirdly he looks sweaty and nervous, wan with yearning. Kendall decides it must be his imagination, because James barely ever sweats, and he does not yearn. Not for Kendall on his knees in the middle of a supply closet.
At first James doesn’t make a noise, which is unnerving because Kendall’s grunting and panting and basically providing a soundtrack for every little thing that James does to him. Meanwhile James doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to breathe. Kendall supposes it’s hard to get a vampire to forget they’re a vampire, even in the midst of all this debauchery. James’s fingers stop working Kendall open from the inside out. He withdraws, and it’s a hollow feeling, unnerving with the addition of the silence. Kendall is so hot and high, like a burning star, but behind him there is only the soft rustle of clothes as James undoes the front of his pants.
All of that changes the second James pushes inside of him, a guttural groan filling the air. Kendall can barely concentrate on it, too busy ripping one of his arms from James’s grip, breaking free against his thumb just in time to smother a startled yelp that comes out sounding more like a bark. Kendall bites the sound into the flesh of his own arm, his vision wavering between dull, human sight and sharper Wolf vision, making every grain in the door clear.
He always kind of figured that sex with James would be like sex with a marble statue. Even though all the make out sessions they’d had as monsters had been satisfactorily hot, Kendall had been paying more attention the Wolf’s desperate instincts to flee than what James felt like under his fingertips. Now he knows different. Now Kendall is burning up from the inside out, between James and the feeling of being owned completely; the press of James’s palm flat against Kendall’s spine and the call of the moon in his veins, in his blood, stretching him until he feels too thin, too hot, too everything all at once.
James licks a stripe across the nape of his neck, his teeth scraping and bumping over bone. He keeps the rhythm steady, paces out each thrust no matter how desperately Kendall tries to get him to speed up, and he never, ever lets up, not even to pause for breath. It’s nothing at all like the first time, when they fumbled all over each other, trying to figure out the mechanics of what and where and how, desperate to consummate years of yearning. This is so different; moonlight and blood, claws and fangs. James is turning his insides to deadly quicksilver, and Kendall is dying, slowly, blissfully. That has to be it. James is a fuckmachine of a man, relentless, but Kendall is apparently into that; every time he withdraws he feels slick and hollow and empty and grinds back to meet the impending course of his dick, desperate for the pressure of him sliding against Kendall and the heat of the friction they build between them.
And James is so noisy now; he moans appreciatively whenever Kendall does something he likes, and he talks, babbles incoherently. He mumbles words into Kendall’s skin. They’re low, low enough that a human wouldn’t be able to make them out, but Kendall’s Wolf ears pick them up; things like infuriating and irresistible. Kendall doesn’t know who is saying what; the Boy or the leech. He knows James- the human part of James- is attracted to him; and Kendall cherishes that knowledge. But he never even thought that the bloodsucker in him might feel that way too.
James fists his free hand in Kendall’s hair, exposing his neck. He bites down, but he doesn’t break flesh, standing on the edge of control as he fucks inside of him. Kendall’s so close, he’s teetering on the edge of it like a star, a supernova building inside of his stomach. And he realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, that James’s grip on his left wrist has slipped; it has transformed into the loose lace of their fingers. Kendall groans and thrusts back, trying to meet James halfway, trying to get him closer, deeper. There is this tight heat in his stomach, building up the shaft of his dick and he wants to be touched, he begs to be touched, but James’s hand is still tangled in Kendall’s hair, his mouth still a wet press against Kendall’s neck. Kendall has to wrap his own hand around himself, leaning most of his weight into James. James takes it, hand moving to wrap around the front of Kendall’s neck, light but strong. His body is a long line of heat against Kendall’s back.
James thrusts up, their thighs slapping together, and bites down, teeth breaking skin. Kendall comes like that, shuddering with the head of James’s cock hot against his prostate. It doesn’t take James long after, or maybe it does; Kendall’s riding out the longest fucking orgasm he’s had in a while, and it’s only when his body stops trembling that he realizes James is slumped against him, completely sated.
The two of them slump forward against the door, James’s softening dick still half inside of Kendall. Kendall, for his part, is shocked at how comfortable he feels right in that moment. There’s no animosity left in his chest or in his head. When James withdraws, he does it gingerly, and then he extricates their interlaced fingers. Kendall misses the feel of it, just for a moment before James slings an arm around Kendall’s neck, pulling him in close. The Wolf doesn’t bother trying to struggle; it wants to snuggle up next to James. It whispers words in Kendall’s head, things that Kendall isn’t one hundred percent ready to do or feel. He reddens.
“What?” James asks, like the color of Kendall’s cheek is lighting up the room.
“Nothing,” he says quickly. But then, curiously, he asks, “What was it like?”
“What?”
“The, um. The bite?” Kendall reaches up and strokes a finger soft along James’s neck, the palest of scars visible; twin puncture holes that make him cringe every time he sees them. Now he's got a bite of his own, a dull throb against his skin. The hurt doesn't bother him; it feels more like a badge of honor than something painful.
“It wasn’t bad,” James says softly, his eyes going all distant. It’s how Kendall can tell he’s lying.
“I should have been there.”
James warns, “Kendall-“
“No, I should have. I’m supposed to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection.” James’s grip on his shoulder turns steely. “Not anymore.”
The thought troubles Kendall, and maybe James sees that. Softly, he tells him, “We can protect each other now.”
---
Kendall hasn’t felt as comfortable as he does during the walk back to 2J in a long time. It’s like something has clicked right in his head; he can hold James’s hand in the middle of the hallway and the Wolf just makes this contented sound. It’s like all the monster was waiting for was Kendall, giving in. He twirls the hockey stick in his free hand and walks into the apartment with a smile tugging on his lips. Its short lived. No one’s in the living room, so James makes a beeline for his door, throwing Kendall a devilish smirk.
Except the door opens on its own.
Or not. Camille’s standing there. Camille looks kind of…rumpled.
“Is your shirt on backwards?” Is Kendall’s first question, for reasons he can’t really explain. He knows there’s more important things begging to be asked, but. Well.
Camille looks down. “It’s supposed to look like that.”
“Is that a hickey on your neck?” James’s eyes bug out.
“Bug bite,” she explains.
“That is a huge fucking bug.”
Right then, Muffy stumbles up behind Camille, and she looks a little worse than rumbled. Her shirt is torn, and her eyes are a little wild.
Kendall’s first thought is that a zombie escaped into James’s bedroom. Then he realizes how red her lips are, and how her pants are not done up right at all.
Kendall stares. And stares. And stares.
Hot, he decides.
“Did you guys just- in my bed?” James asks, outraged. Kendall snorts. He can almost hear the unsaid without me.
Normally, this would be the time when the Wolf would rear up in a kind of jealous rage. Instead, it gives a contented snuffle. It wants Kendall to nuzzle his head into James. Apparently leech isn’t so bad when the Wolf can smell the scent of Kendall’s sweat still drying on James’s skin.
Camille frowns. “Kendall’s door was locked.”
“Oh, for the love of- where’s Logan and Carlos?”
“Probably in Kendall’s room.” And then Camille closes the door in their face. They hear the click of the lock.
“Okay then.” Kendall says. James starts up a tirade, but Kendall mostly ignores it as they make their way down the hall. He knows James doesn’t mean it; his hand is still interlocked with Kendall’s.
Fortunately, no one is banging in Kendall’s room. What’s going on there is much more bizarre.
“What are you doing?” Kendall asks, confused by what he’s seeing.
Jett and Carlos are involved in a very intense game of Monopoly. And Logan? Logan looks up from the papers arranged in front of him. “Homework.”
“What?”
“Education is important.”
“Miss Collins is already zombified. I doubt she’s going to force you to hand in your report on Hamlet.”
“Well, I didn’t have anything better to do.” Logan crosses his arms and gives Kendall and James a look like he knows exactly what they’ve been up to. “So. Um. How do we reverse this?”
Kendall frowns. He’s got ideas, certainly. He’s like, the king of ideas. Just. He needs to think of them, and what with all the drooly faced man eating monsters running around, and the fantastic sex, his brain’s not exactly in prime thinking mode. So he goes with his best bet.
“Mom! Where’s mom?”
“She just got home. She’s in her room, I think.”
“Mom!” Kendall yells.
Mrs. Knight comes running. “What, what? What’s wrong?”
She’s in the midst of taking off her coat, and Kendall realizes something. “Mom! How did you get into the hotel?”
Mrs. Knight’s forehead furrows. “Buddha bob opened the door for me.”
“But Buddha bob’s a zombie.”
“Oh. He did look green.” His mom makes a face. “Why is Buddha Bob a zombie?”
“Logan’s been going around biting people,” James explains.
“Hey!”
“Logan. Honey. What did your mother tell you about biting people?”
“That it’s not polite.” Logan sulks. Kendall remembers that lecture. They were four, and Logan insisted on nibbling on Carlos’s fingers every time he did something stupid. Which was always. Of course, they hadn’t been monsters back then. Kendall’s the only one who was born with it. Logan whines, “I only bit Guitar Dude, though.”
“Guitar Dude? Really? Logan, he hasn’t bathed in a week.”
“I like that.”
Mrs. Knight’s eyes bug out. She says, “Moving along. There’s got to be a spell in the book somewhere…”
The group of them move into the living room. Mrs. Knight finds the book beneath a can of soda. “Katie! I thought I told you to stop using the book as a coaster.”
Katie yells something from down the hall. Mrs. Knight clicks her tongue and picks up the book and her reading glasses. She starts poring over the pages, but Kendall realizes they haven’t explained quite everything yet. “Hey, uh, mom?”
“Yes, honey?” His mother looks at him over her reading glasses, eyes bright. She loves this witchy stuff.
“Uh. Do you think you could fix Jennifer’s head? And um, Tyler’s mom?”
“What happened to Jennifer’s head and Mrs. Duncan?”
“Um. I might have, um. Hit Jennifer with this.” Kendall twirls the hockey stick in his hands.
“Kendall! You don’t hit people with hockey sticks!”
“She was trying to eat Camille.”
Mrs. Knight rubs her temples. “And what about Tyler’s mom?”
“Um. Muffy might have decapitated her.” Mrs. Knight’s eyes widen.
“I might need another spell for that. It happened, uh…post-zombification?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh good,” she breathes. “I wouldn’t be able to bring her back if she wasn’t infected when it happened.”
And Kendall knows that; his mom has witchy rules. He spent a good year of his life and longer resenting her for them. He still kind of does. Maybe if his mom had agreed to bring Logan and Carlos back after the crash, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have the imprint of fangs in his shoulder and a constant ache in his heart for the better part of the past two years.
“I need a zombie.” She looks at Kendall. “Go on. Fetch.” Slowly, Logan raises a hand. “You won’t work, sweetie. I need one who wasn’t already dead.”
“Right. Logan, James, you can come with me to the lobby. We’ll need supplies,” Kendall decides.
“Sure. Jett, look after Carlos,” James orders.
“Okay. Hey, what’s-“
“Do not touch the miniature Hot Boy Band Machine,” Logan instructs, eyes narrowing. Jett does not seem even a little bit impressed by the
growl that’s edged into his voice. Carlos laughs.
James makes a face. “Maybe I should, um. Stay here and watch Jett.”
“Good idea.”
In the elevator, Kendall tells Logan, “I can’t believe you didn’t let us use the machine.”
“Wouldn’t it have made things worse? An hour at a time…Kendall, it’s not nearly enough,” Logan says wistfully. “I saw you guys holding hands. At least this way you’ve worked it out on your own. You don’t need the machine.”
Kendall suddenly feels bad about all the safe-zombie-sex jokes. Logan doesn’t exactly have a lot of options when it comes to love these days.
“I, uh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, um.” He’s bad at apologies. But Logan smiles, like he knows what Kendall’s talking about. “Do you ever wish you were a witch? Then you’d be able to fix all of this on your own.”
Kendall thinks about it. He’s never been completely onboard with Wolfing out. But, objectively speaking, his hairy little problem causes a regular disturbance in his life maybe three days a month, tops.
Katie accidentally blows something up every few minutes or so.
“Nah. Don’t worry, though. Mom’s going to take care of everything. She’s good at that.”
“Kendall?”
“Yeah?” The elevator dings.
“I’m sorry for starting the apocalypse.”
“Don’t be. You keep life interesting,” Kendall grins, knocking their shoulders together as the doors slide open. “Now go get me a zombie.”
It’s actually pretty easy. Logan walks up to the first undead person he finds, taps the zombie on the shoulder and asks, “Hey, does this smell like chloroform to you?”
He holds up a drenched rag over the thing’s nose. The zombie slumps into his arms.
Logan looks towards Kendall. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
From there, they drag the zombie, who just so happens to be a douchey new actor from apartment 4G up to Kendall’s mom. All it takes is two hours of bringing her coffee and a simple spell to reverse the curse. Color floods back into the zombie’s skin, a spark of life lights up his eyes, and then they have to kick the guy out of the apartment because he’s such a douchebag. As far as spells go, it’s easy-peasy.
Kicking Muffy and Camille out of James’s room takes longer.
Convincing Muffy that Kendall will legitimately tear out her throat if she lays a finger on James takes most of the night.
But right before bed, the lobby is full of humans and laughter, and James still has a stake-free heart. All in all, the day has been wildly successful. They guys stretch out on the couch, watching Zombieland, which seems apropos at the time. Carlos and Logan have already exhausted their energy, and they’ve sagged against each other, snoring lightly. They have the right idea.
“Happy Halloween,” Kendall tells James sleepily, curling into his arms.
“Happy Halloween,” James replies, kissing the top of Kendall’s head. The two of them fall asleep to the sound of Jesse Eisenberg instructing them on how to survive the zombie apocalypse, secure in the knowledge that the only zombie within ten miles is Logan.
Everyone thinks that’s the end of it until the following morning, when an undead boy bites one of the hosts of Good Day LA on live television while they’re all eating breakfast.
Kendall watches, only mildly concerned. “Mom, when Buddha bob let you in yesterday, did anyone else, um. Get out?”
“I’ll get the book,” Mrs. Knight says heavily.
“I’m gonna go invest in machetes,” Katie decides.
“I’m gonna-“ Logan pauses when everyone glares at him “-cease to have a sex life.”
FrankenCarlos makes a sad noise.
“Gross,” Katie says.
James just squeezes Kendall’s ass on his way to grab some OJ. Kendall, Wolf-Boy, Boy-and-Wolf, sighs contentedly. “Let’s break out the machetes after breakfast. Who wants pancakes?”
---