You Don't Own Me (Larry/Larcel)

2 I hate you

WARNINGS: mentions of sex.

It all started when I saw Marcel naked in the changing room. Yeah, funny way to start a story, I know.

Anyways, for some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. It was only supposed to be a prank. But, it made a bigger impact on me.

He has a big impact of his own. And when I say big, I mean it. What? I couldn't help but look at the competition. Not bragging or anything. But I have been told by many that I'm a pretty good, well, size. But his body was so, so, feminine like.

His slightly toned chest with oddly no visible chest hair, his curvy hips that are just begging for finger print bruises to be put on them, and this glorious thing we call a 'V' line or 'Happy Trail' that had curly hair, the only visible hair on his front, that led down to his, well, you know.

He usually changes in the shower behind the curtain, and he used to wear boxers when he showered. Obviously he doesn't anymore.

And I think it's because we made fun of him.

But now I kind of regret it.

But at the same time, in my mind I'm giving myself a Nobel Prize for indirectly telling him to shower fully naked.

But just seeing him like that, all naked and vulnerable, just made me, I mean, it made me get a bit excited.

While the lads just laughed at him from beside me, I was standing there noticing how fragile he looked, instead of laughing.

He just looked so, breakable. So ruinable and I couldn't help but comment on how impressive his package was. Oh the look on his face.

A blush mixed with confusion.

But I couldn't help but see the small yellow and purple marks along his sides and arms.

And the worst thing to see, the faded red lines across parts of his body.

Then I instantly felt guilty.

I knew it was because of me.

But he then yanked the curtain closed and I heard him sobbing quietly.

Then the dreams flood my mind. Why does this have to happen?

Most importantly, why Marcel?

I mean, its Marcel Styles the annoying nerd who couldn't get much more stereotypical with his big rimmed glasses and sweater vests. Even the inhaler, I mean, come on.

That's what got me all hot for Marcel. The dreams.

Why couldn't it have been like, Eleanor Calder or summat? Yeah, she's hot. I'd hook up with her any day. My mind keeps telling me that I'm cheating myself, I don't like her. I can't say I don't. But I find myself cringing at her name.

But most of all, he's a guy. A guy. Do you know how weird that is? I mean I'm not homophobic. Or I don't think I am. Marcel accuses me of being one.

But I can see myself even kissing the bloke. Bloody kissing!

I just want to hit myself, just thinking about it. But why hit myself when I have my ragdoll? He's such an easy target. And I have anger issues.

So I keep hurting him but at the same time I want to ravish him.

And now I have class and I have to walk past him. How can I resist? I plant the usual smirk on my face, or as Marcel calls it, my "Evil smirk" or that's wht I'm told by Liam. 

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Louis huffed like a bull. He was mad. And Marcel knew when Louis was mad, his own body would show it the next day, with all the bruises Louis makes on him.

And once again he finds himself under the hooves of the bull.

"Styles" Louis said bluntly, in a monotone voice. Marcel didn't dare to move much less breathe. It took a minute, to Marcel is felt like more than that, just for him to speak.

He let out a small, "yes?" And that seemed to make things worse somehow.

Louis bent Marcel's arm behind his back and held it there. Marcel let out a pained whine and the look of hurt was evident on his face.

"Where are you going?" Louis asked, same tone voice. He didn't really give a fuck where Marcel was going. He just wanted an excuse to bother him.

He saw the wince and slight pain on Marcel's face.

"T-theatre" Marcel spoke quietly. He knew he'd get made fun of for it.

Louis chuckled. "You're such a nerd" he said and clamped his hand down, squeezing Marcel's bum once more.

Marcel accidentally let out a gasp of small surprise, it escaped his mouth like a cat would do if a vacuum were coming towards it.

"L-Loui-" Marcel cut himself off by shouting from pain. Louis bent his arm more, at an acute angle.

"Don't talk" Louis said sternly placing a smack on Marcel's hip. "Did I give you permission?"

Louis leaned in, his lips a centimetre away from the shell of Marcel's ear.

"Styles" He whispered. His warm breath cascading down Marcel's neck, causing a ripple of a shiver to go down his spine.

"N-No m'sorry" he whimpered. Louis only grinned. "Good. I taught you well" Louis laughed. He loved how obeying Marcel was and he could only think that it would tribute to how submissive he would be in bed. He also loved how Marcel saw him as scary, he had him trained. His method of training was intimidation and it was like Marcel learned by fear.

Marcel only looked at him, fear evident in his emerald eyes.

Louis huffed. "You should get to class. You'll be late" He said and gave Marcel one final push against the locker and bounded away down the hall.

Louis stopped by his locker to get his Maths book, also keeping it over his crotch, trying to make it look like he was just naturally holding it. Seeing as how he had to hide something sinful.

He smirked. "Styles" he grinned to himself.

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WOOO yeah so I'm re-editing this all, so sorry for all of the confusion, hang in there loveies! -E