Page 2 of Bend Him, Break Him

Did Isaac glare at Colton and the baseball team for the remainder of the lecture? Yes. Did he realize it was spiteful and unproductive? Absolutely. Did he give a fuck? Nope.

Isaac tried his hardest to endure Colton’s presence.

But it was difficult to tolerate the guy who made life worth living while simultaneously ruining it.

When Isaac escaped their small, conservative town of Straight Arrow, he hoped to move past the ironic homophobia.

But then Colton had to choose to attend the same college.

Of all the schools in the world, Colton’s decision felt blatantly intentional, even if no one knew where Isaac had fled.

Every time he saw the budding baseball pro, Isaac struggled with the feelings that still lingered deep in his core.

When class came to an end, Isaac handed in some late papers to Professor Howard, turning on his heel to leave before she could complain.

There was a lot about Professor Howard he enjoyed, but her incessant requirement for punctuality on assignments wasn’t one of them.

He intended to skirt her questions and dodge her accusations about the papers until she broke down and put the scores into her gradebook.

If she pressed too hard, Isaac would lie and say he fell behind on his grading goals instead of admitting the students failed to meet the absurd mandated deadlines.

It was easier for Isaac to take the blame on the assignments, which never hurt his standing as a TA.

The problem was that Howard didn’t fuck around when it came to grading, clawing her way from an adjunct professor to head of the department.

Part of that came with a need to be ruthless, which Isaac normally respected; hence, the appeal to major in English and embrace his love for literature.

Well, double major since he knew there was literally zero profit when it came to reading and writing, so he needed a real degree if he wanted cash flow after his grant money dried up.

The moment Isaac stepped outside the classroom, he nearly bumped into Colton, who lingered near the doorway at a table that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Isaac glared at the green-eyed, black-haired, chiseled jock who stood there looking annoyingly gorgeous with his perfectly tan skin, sharp features, muscular body, and perfectly fitting hoodie and tight jeans despite also appearing frumpy.

How could someone be this hot in a wrinkled outfit that looked like they’d just tossed on?

“Excuse you!” Isaac glared.

“You’re excused, sweetie.” Mina snapped her fingers from behind the unsanctioned table and waved Isaac off before handing Colton a flyer to the GSA club meetings.

Mina’s dark brown skin popped, complimented by her baggy sky-blue blouse that hung off her shoulders and exposed her stomach.

Her unrelenting bright, white smile matched the walls where she’d posted up to promote the queer club.

When a few guys paused, Mina leaned forward, encouraging them to linger as she passed out flyers.

Her makeup was perfectly composed, matching her shirt and complementing the starry night polish of her nails she’d gone with this month.

Beside Mina, Jazz did her best to ensure every single student who exited the auditorium had a flyer for the next GSA club meeting.

It wasn’t uncommon for the president and vice president of the queer campus club to post up and hand out flyers to draw in a bigger crowd, but they usually set up in more populated areas, not a random English course that happened to have Isaac in attendance.

Jazz wore her very daring ‘I eat CLIT’ hoodie, which had tiny text to make it appropriate if anyone dared question her school spirit for Clinton Lloyd Institute of Technology.

‘I eat at CLIT Café ’ was the full text, not that anyone could see the at or café portion, but it worked for her, and the university fed into the clit jokes to up their merchandise sales.

Jazz’s smile filled her entire face, making her chubby cheeks rise high.

The only chubby thing on her, in fact, since she was almost as tiny as Mina, despite the fact Jazz dressed in baggy shirts and jeans she needed a belt pulled to the hilt in order to keep them up.

Jazz had a bleach blonde buzzcut and a light brown tawny complexion.

While she carried herself aggressively, she was butch in aesthetic only, walking around like a goddamn golden retriever in Isaac’s opinion.

Jazz struck up three conversations at once in the time Isaac spent gawking at his GSA friends.

Jazz encouraged Isaac to join her at her makeshift booth, where she passed out flyers for the next club meeting.

Unfortunately, Jazz had this annoyingly convincing attitude that Isaac hadn’t been able to escape since he met her.

Isaac rolled his eyes and locked them on Mina, who brushed her fingers through her long, waist-length box braids, doing her best to appear dainty despite being known for her zero tolerance on bullshit attitude.

The two of them hadn’t come because of Isaac’s presence in the class, which should’ve been a win for him, but knowing they came here to reel Colton back into attendance only managed to piss Isaac off more.

“We’d love to see you again,” Mina said with an obnoxious amount of enthusiasm.

Isaac huffed at the phony cheer oozing off her.

“Yeah, bro,” Cunt-A-Saurous Leon Coleman shouted with a flippant attitude. “ They wanna see you there again.”

Leon put a heavy emphasis on the pronouns, mockingly, of course, because he was a cunt that Isaac wanted to throat punch on a regular basis.

Every time the douchebag spoke, Isaac cracked his knuckles and reminded himself that unless he had the pleasure of finding Leon without witnesses, he shouldn’t swing first.

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” Colton cast his eyes down and crumpled the flyer up before leading his baseball team members away.

Leon turned back and cheered for Pride sarcastically until his team cut the corner.

“He’s a piece of work,” Mina said without missing a beat and flipping off Leon.

“What the fuck are y’all doing here?” Isaac asked, unconcerned by the interested new members of GSA hovering nearby.

As the secretary of the club, Isaac often took notes on future agendas, and nothing said his fellow board representatives would be lurking outside his class.

“We’re recruiting new members,” Jazz said as the bulk of the crowd cleared out after a meager five minutes.

“Yeah, and your reason for posting up here?” Isaac stared, unblinking.

“Thought we’d persuade the campus hottie with a bi body to speak again,” Mina said, still eyeing the direction Colton had walked off in.

It annoyed Isaac how the one club, the one place, refuge, sanctuary, he’d found had opened its doors for Colton motherfucking Lennox like he was some damn hero.

“You realize he’s not that special,” Isaac snapped. “Just some annoying jock who likes dick occasionally.”

“He’d make a huge difference in attendance,” Jazz said, her brown eyes turning into some annoying pleading expression.

“Everyone loves a hero.” Mina led the way toward the student courtyard.

“Hero?” Isaac snapped. “He got fucking outed. That’s not heroic. It’s sloppy—just ask your local senator.”

Okay, normally, Isaac would hold more sympathy. In fact, he had held more sympathy by keeping Colton’s DL queer status to himself all through high school despite how it might’ve benefited Isaac to snitch on everyone’s favorite jock for being a big ole homo.

“Do you know how brave it is to own your queer identity when being outed?” Mina leapt to Colton’s defense. “As a bi, masculine athlete, he could’ve easily denied the allegations.”

“Not that easy, given the cumming out factor,” Isaac said, alluding to the rumors Colton was caught mid-blowjob, which supposedly forced his hand to come out before those photos came out.

There was something super infuriating about Colton being praised as a queer idol, a hero for his bravery in coming out.

Isaac knew Colton long before this bullshit.

He wasn’t heroic, and chances were he tried to throw someone else under the bus to salvage his reputation before being forced to embrace his homo status.

Every time someone praised Colton, congratulated him for his bravery, Isaac was reminded of every year he’d weathered the hatred of his peers by coming out in high school.

No one offered him a medal, no one demanded Isaac speak at club events, no one made reels by the tens of thousands about him.

Though, honestly, Isaac was grateful for that factor.

Part of him empathized—as best he could—for Colton when the online baseball gay pitcher posts started up with everyone giving their opinion on the bi batter with a bad attitude.

“I just think his popularity is overrated and fizzling out,” Isaac said, hoping his fellow GSA representatives would realize they were wasting their time on recruiting Colton as a member or a speaker. “He’s not that special.”

“Oh, but he’s so hot,” Mina whined.

“He really isn’t,” Isaac said too quickly, then went quiet to throw off suspicion.

“You know, normally, I don’t go for that whole macho brute thing,” Mina continued on her campaign to defend Colton’s honor. “But last year, he fought two guys to protect the honor of a girl he was dating.”

“Yeah…” Jazz cringed. “But he did put one in the hospital.”

“So hot, I know,” Mina swooned. “Total bi daddy gentleman vibes all the way. And I would let him go all the way and further.”

“You know, they weren’t actually dating,” Isaac clarified because, of course, he had to drop the fact that he secretly knew everything about Colton.

Everything he could learn without going stalker mode, at least. Okay, without going full-blown stalker mode.

“Your Prince Uncharming was flirting with the girl when the other guys started hitting on her, too. It wasn’t chivalry; it was caveman mentality. ”

“Not caveman—so dated.”

“And sexist,” Jazz added with a smirk, only intending to pile on to the Isaac-being-wrong stack, not actually out to make a point. She allowed Mina to take charge of the lecture during their walk.

“Colton’s more of an alphahole,” Mina said with a shudder of intoxication like the word itself boozed her up.

Isaac let out a scoff snort combo.

“And what the fuck is an alphahole?” he asked with a bitter edge in his voice as his mind swirled to a particular type of hole he might enjoy from a so-called alpha.

“OhMyGod,” Mina blurted with unmatched enthusiasm, drawing the attention of others walking through the courtyard.

“They are the epitome of baddie bossy boys. I mean, controlling, strong, aggressive, cunning, calculating, irritating, all wrapped up in the hottest fucking bods a girl could ask for. Well, anyone could ask for, really. We all wanna ride that alpha dick at one point or another.”

“Not all of us,” Jazz clarified, but Mina was too lost in her swooning to notice.

“So, they’re just good-looking assholes?” Isaac tilted his head side-to-side because he could a appreciate a good-looking asshole—literally and personality-wise.

“No, hun. You’re an asshole.” Mina pointed a finger at him, nearly jabbing him with the sharp stiletto tip. “An alphahole is a completely different beast, emphasis on the beast. Especially in the sheets.”

“I get no complaints.”

“Of course not.” Mina shrugged. “Who doesn’t love an angry angsty power bottom twink who dresses edgy because it matches the color of his soul?”

Isaac rolled his eyes at Mina’s dramatic flair when acting out her most emo boy impersonation before correcting herself from sad sack to grumpy goth. “Because you’re not like other middle-class white boys with a darkness inside them.”

“Upper middle-class,” Isaac playfully corrected.

Mina nodded at that, continuing her best, intentionally worst, Isaac impersonation. “You’re angry and filled with purpose. Rawr.”

“He’s filled with something all right,” Jazz chuckled.

“Exactly!” Mina clapped her hands, dropping the impersonation and returning to her explanation. “An alphahole is a dom, an assertive daddy who knows how to make his baby purr.”

“So, how are assholes and alphaholes different again?” Jazz asked, then winked at Isaac to remind him this was all playful banter.

Jazz had a tendency to emotionally check in on her friends, even discreetly, to make sure no conversation or topic steered too far.

She hated hurt feelings and hated being the cause of upsetting someone, even unintentionally.

When Isaac grinned, he knew it reassured her that he enjoyed the nonsense teasing.

“An asshole is a beta bitch boy posturing to be in charge to prove his anger is more than bluster.” Mina gestured to Isaac as a grand example. “Sorry, Izzy. I don’t make the rules, but you have masochistic hedonist sub written all over that pretty face.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have cum on my face, I guess it’s an improvement.”

Jazz and Mina burst into laughter, keeling over as they walked and dragging Isaac into the giggle fit himself.

This was why he tolerated GSA. This was why he made time for his friends.

They pulled him out of the darkness, the constant anger that consumed him, and helped him make fun of his own audacious rage.

Isaac didn’t contest the bottom boy assumptions, preferring not to disclose his bedroom intimacy more than what anyone already knew based on the occasional two-in-the-morning hookup they’d see slink out of his dorm room.

Since Isaac’s tastes steered exclusively toward jocky frat boys, most folks assumed his hookups used him for easy ass, which was the furthest thing from the truth.

Isaac didn’t sub for anyone ever, not since spending five months with his mouth practically glued to Colton’s cock junior year.

The idea of submitting, of serving someone else entirely, made Isaac queasy.

He did his best to be a generous partner but always on his terms. His discretion, his control.

He would never hand the reins over to another person. Not ever again.

Isaac was the furthest thing from a submissive beta boy. Hell, he usually broke those so-called alphahole guys in himself, finding eager and curious fellas on campus ready to serve. Though, given Mina’s explanation, maybe he’d been fucking assholes in the asshole this entire time.

During the rest of the walk through the student courtyard, Isaac tried to subtly convince his friends that the GSA Club didn’t need some random varsity baseball pitcher to improve their membership engagement.