James could control his actions, but he could not control his thoughts. And at this moment in time, his thoughts were not thoughts that he was entirely comfortable with. He was entirely too fixated with the subtle curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, his slight frame. There was something about Fisher that fascinated James, and he didn't like it. Or he didn't like the fact that he did, rather.
A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as the man attempted to protest what he was imply and then stopped himself, perching on the edge of his bed. "Liar." He would call him out on it too, see how far he could push him, see what he could get him to admit, just because he could, just because he liked the fact that he had power in this relationship, in this situation. James held all the cards. Fisher had none.
"Straight men don't offer to fuck other men for a little bit of blow." Lips curled into that smirk once more. "Unless they're just really desperate and pathetic so... Which one are you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes slightly as he reached a hand forward to take hold of the bag, unrolling it and dipping a finger in, white powder coating the tip as he pulled it out and rubbed it along over his gums. "Are you pathetic, or are you queer?"