Categories > Celebrities > Good Charlotte > Wicked Tickles

01 Do I Make You Crazy, Baby?

by Strings 1 Reviews

Joel Combs is the football captain loved by everyone. Well, almost everyone. How will he react when he finds that Benji Madden cannot stand even his presence? AU/BDSM/Twincest

Category: Good Charlotte - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Erotica - Characters:  - Warnings: [R] [V] [X] - Published: 2006/01/31 - Updated: 2006/01/31 - 1188 words

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Author: Strings393
Fiction Title: Wicked Tickles
Chapter Title: 01 Do I Make You Crazy, Baby?
Pairing: Benji/Joel
Rating: PG-13/NC-17 in later chapters
Genre: AU, BDSM, Twincest
Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Reference
Summary: Joel Combs is the football captain loved by everyone. Well, almost everyone. How will he react when he finds that Benji Madden cannot stand even his presence? AU/BDSM/Twincest
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything except the plot. The title 'Wicked Tickles' came from the site Wicked Tickles.

The smell of a fresh victory was in the air as I walked the halls of La Plata that Monday morning. Friday night's game against Thomas Stone High was in our favor and full of beautiful plays. I myself scored three field goals and delivered seven touchdown passes. As soon as I stepped out of my car, an air of greeting and sheer praise engulfed me. I couldn't help but grin at all the people yelling their congratulations at me in the halls. I was giving a half high five - half handshake thing to a fellow player when I bumped into someone, sending their books to the floor. "Watch it, asshole!" the person exclaimed. The shock of colliding with someone faded and I realized who it was; some punk kid that passed me everyday in the hall. I never took the time to get to know him, but now was definitely a great time to start. I loved to make new friends and had just that status with nearly everyone in the school. He bent down and started to gather his stuff. "God...a fucking football game gets won and he parades around as if he owned the damn place. I hate people." he muttered. I bent down and started to help him.

"Sorry about that. I didn't see you..." I started, passing him a notebook with some sort of hand-drawn logo on it; probably a band or something.

"Well maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you would have seen me walking, jerk." he snapped, snatching the item out of my hand. I furrowed my eyebrows and frowned.

"I said I didn't see you. I was saying 'hey' to a friend. What the hell's your problem?" He shook his head and let out a sort of frustrated growl.

"Fuck off. You've got cheerleaders to impregnate." Then that was it; he was walking off down the hallway with all his stuff towards his class. I frowned after him. If there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was someone hating me before they knew me. I really was a nice guy; not at all the typical 'jock' image. I didn't beat people up, drink alcohol, screw airhead cheerleaders or anything else like that. I didn't find it worth my time. So instead of making their lives hell only for it to come back and haunt me later in life, I was nice to people and became their friend. In freshman year, I had befriended so many people that I had to start adding loose leaf papers to my yearbook for people to sign. I loved all my friends and I was pretty sure they all loved me, but this...this guy was going to be some work.
***
At lunch, I leaned against a pillar that had a great view of the whole courtyard; scanning it for that kid I had a run in with this morning. In case he wasn't outside, I had two of my closest friends check inside. I finally spotted his black and electric pink hair and saw that he was eating with a few other kids under a tree near the cafeteria. I headed off towards him, determined to have a conversation that wasn't rude. He was in the middle of describing some sort of concert I guess because he was talking about how he nearly broke a cheekbone in a mosh pit, labret piercing glinting in the sun as he smiled about reminiscing in the memory. When he saw me just a few feet away, he groaned and rolled his eyes, slouching over a bit. When I was close enough, I held out my hand and introduced myself. "We didn't really get off on the right foot this morning, so...I'm Joel Combs." He just looked at my hand and then back up at me in disgust as if I had just spit the biggest loogie ever on it, though I was sure he would have still shaken it had I been one of his friends.

"What do you want?" he asked in an impatient tone.

"I just wanted to start over. I mean, you don't know me and you act as if you hate me." I replied innocently, lowering my hand. He squinted against the sun.

"You're a fucking goody-good...Mr. Perfect...I'm not friends with shits like that." I bit my lip, searching my life for something that would appeal to him.

"I shoplifted a pack of gum once when I was ten." I said with a shrug. His friends bit back their laughter as the kid grinned.

"Were you caught?"

"Well, yeah...it fell out of my shirt while I was walking past the cashier lady."

"/Nice/." he said sarcastically, not impressed in the least. My eyes darted searching for something else.

"I...stole a car once too." His friends stopped laughing and started listening intently. The kid, however, looked skeptical.

"What kind of car?"

"Um...it was a Pontiac. I don't know the exact model." He bit his bottom lip and looked down briefly, only to return to squinting at me.

"It was your parents' car, wasn't it?" I slumped down and sighed.

"Yeah. My mom's."

"You were like, fifteen and wanted to drive without a parental, right?"

"Yes. I was thirteen though."

"You crashed on the nearest main road, didn't you?" I shuffled dirt with my shoe.

"Not on the nearest main road...just outside my driveway...into the mailbox." He pulled his lips into a thin line and nodded while his friends burst out with laughter.

"/Yeah/..." he replied quietly, knowing I wasn't the type to actually do that. I rolled my eyes and looked at him.

"Well...what's the worse you've done then?" I asked. He laughed and shrugged.

"We're not into that shit, man." He took another bite of the PB&J sandwich that was laying on a brown paper bag in front of him. "I'm Benji Madden by the way." I looked at him with a grin as he shoved the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth, crumpled up the bag and threw it getting a perfect goal into the garbage can. Once he swallowed, he added; "I still don't want to be your friend." With that, he got up, friends following him, and jumped over the wall that separated the grass from the courtyard to walk away, the hoodie that was tied around his waist hopping with him. I just stared after him dumbfounded. We just had a conversation that went quite well in my opinion, and he still didn't like me. What. The. Fuck?
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