Black Coffee, Red Lipstick, and Cigarette Smoke

Chapter Fourteen

A/N So, I've been reading this story to my grandma but just changing all the names so she doesn't realize it's gay Hamilton fanfiction. Anyway, she really likes it and wants me to print off a copy for my aunt. I am literally dying. This is just so humorous to me. Anyway, hope you enjoy. 😂

Light crept in from a nearby window, streams of brightness highlighting everything in its wake. A backpack was stuffed into a corner, books strewn on the floor.

James Reynolds's fist was clenched around Samuel's taffeta sweater, pulling roughly on the fabric. Samuel only whimpered in response, trying to remain silent. If he remained silent, all would go quickly Reynolds would only rough him up a little bit.

Eaker stood to the side examining the whole situation as though it were some grand comedy.

"Make the little fairy kiss your shoe or some shit." Eaker called out, suddenly growing bored with the set-up.

Reynolds smiled, the cringing smile sending chill's down Samuel's spine. "That's a grand idea." He hissed. "Why don't you kiss my shoes?"

He shoved Samuel down harshly, still grinning as the smaller man knelt in front of him. There was no threat, just a demand. No one needed to add the repercussions of not listening. The implications were clear enough as it was.

Samuel felt his face begin to heat and warm tears trickled down, landing freely on the shoe before him. He wanted to beg or scream but it was no use. It wouldn't help anything.

"What's going on here?" A voice called out and they all immediately recognized it as Charles.

Eaker chuckled, clearing the way so Charles could see. Upon scanning the sight before him, a strange and undecipherable expression grew on his face.

Samuel moved his eyes to look into Charles's. Still, he did not speak, but the look on his face was an obvious plea. It was a plea to remember mercy or some heartfelt human sympathy.

Charles couldn't just ignore Samuel, but he wasn't sure why not. Perhaps it was the absolute horror written on Samuel's face, or the way he shuddered each time someone moved an inch. Perhaps it was the tears staining his cheeks, or the broken glazed over look in his eyes.

"You want a turn?" Reynolds asked nonchalantly, his gaze still fixed on Samuel. He eyed the trembling man like he was a toy. In reality, he functioned more as a punching bag.

Charles remained in his place, still mentally debating and analyzing the situation.

Reynolds knelt to face Samuel. He lifted a hand and pressed it against his face, holding Samuel's face in his harsh hands. "We were just having some fun with little Sammy." He whispered, so close that Samuel could feel his warm breath on his face.

Reynolds moved, allowing Charles to take his place. Charles grabbed Samuel's wrist, watching him shudder. Sam used his free arm to try and cover his face.

He began to sob, shaking with fear. "Relax." Charles commanded, speaking more forcefully than intended.

Samuel did in fact relax a little after that, but he was still concerned as to what would happen next.

"Leave him be, Reynolds." Charles lectured, his grip still tight against Samuel's wrist. "He didn't do anything to you."

Reynolds laughed in response, Eaker echoing along. "When did you become Mr goodie-two-shoes?"

In one swift action, he pinned Charles against the wall, a fist raised high. Displeasure played on his features, darkening his demeanor. "Are you a little fag now too?" He growled.