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★
Good ideas tended to hit Michael when he least expected them. Tonight was no different. Sitting in the band van, scrolling aimlessly through fan comments, he snickered at a particular one. Luke's shoulder was pressed to his on the neighboring seat, his eyes closed and lips pursed into a slight pout. He inquired about Michael’s reaction with a hum.
“They're saying we should kiss.” He explained, and looked up from the screen for only a moment.
A sliver of blue appeared from under Luke's eyelids as he seemed to assess Michael’s answer.
“Like, onstage,” he added, just to make sure. And huffed out another disbelieving laugh, this one a bit more tinged by the awkwardness.
Luke had already shut his eyes and laid his head back for some solo meditative time. Still, he replied. “Maybe we should.”
Michael laughed with his whole chest this time. “You're serious?”
Luke shrugged and turned to face him.
“Yeah, I mean, for the show. We could pretend, or something, if you wanted. It's pretty meta.”
Michael just shook his head. The situation was amusing to no end. To entertain such a proposal, not by a nitpicking fan on the internet, but by his bandmate. Not to mention best friend and a few other feelings too complicated to fit into an honorific, which weighed heavy nonetheless.
“Sure.” Michael answered in a grin. He knew he wasn't imagining it when the corners of Luke's mouth perked up in mirrored mischief.
Michael should have known that, as did his good ideas, the bad ones had just as much of a way of burrowing themselves in his brain when unwanted.
Their agreed moment for the feat was the celebration for winning Boyband of the Year. Narratively, it made the most sense. They hadn’t discussed mechanics, that would be pushing it.
Michael had been a-okay up until the very last second. The over the top sort of drag act thing they had going on was just another part of routine now, one that he’d learned to enjoy. Hell, he wasn’t even new to the concept of some lighthearted stage queerbaiting. But when they stood under the shadows cast beside the stage, facing a wall of shrieking fans, and Luke leaned into him with all the ease of muscle memory, Michael started to consider whether mixing things was a shot in the foot.
He realised time had had close to no effect on his body’s reaction to Luke’s. He could almost have called the tilt of his head to the side and the touch to his lower back involuntary. Luke was babbling, of course. Answering Michael’s “Hey, c’mere” with gibberish neither of them could hear while shamelessly downing his gaze to his bandmate’s mouth.
The sight was so entirely familiar, is the thing. Michael could not even try to keep his mind from juxtaposing it to past instances of being this close and open to his best friend. Innumerable stolen kisses flashed behind his eyes, some shared just like this, in darkened hiding spots from a crowd. All of them an eternity away.
In perfect timing, the lucky fan onstage announced their win, eliciting another round of exaggerated celebration. If the hand Michael laid on Luke’s chest to push him away was charged with a little too much force, that was no one’s business. The show must go on.
On their way out for the night, Luke gave him a fist bump. He was grinning wide, glowing with the euphoria of a good performance. The thrill of seeing him like this never wore off.
“Do you think we gave them what they wanted?”
“Yeah, think so,” Michael replied. And then, because his stupid fucking mouth could not be contained, “Maybe we should do it for real next time, though, just to be sure.”
At least it drew a giggle out of Luke, the adorable teethy kind that clashed with his current dark rockstar persona. He was mesmerizing when it happened.
“Alright. Tell me when you want it then.”
“Will do.” He lied. The feelings rumbling in Michael’s chest since they'd been that close were far too volatile to be revisited. Let alone to be put on display for thousands of fans and cameras.
Michael was happy to laugh it off and change topics by picking on Ashton, which conveniently kept their drummer from making any comments.
★★
Michael was convinced he had been able to wipe out all kiss-related memories from his brain. Luke's touch and attention now only left him with the usual tingle, the kind he knew how to deal with. Michael decided he would not be weird over frivolous nostalgia and a little touch-starvation.
Thus, snuggling with Luke was proving a point. He was going to be spending his night off in bed anyway. They had both gone as far as entertaining Calum and Ashton's pregaming in Luke's room.
“You're fucking frauds with the ‘cool dad’ act.” Ash had declared in his speech about how they should all be hitting the Portuguese bars, before wives and kids all flew in tomorrow.
Calum had already been tugging at his sleeve towards the door with impatience. He barely had to utter a word to boss Ashton around. He was quick to oblige and soon they were leaving with waves towards the bed and a call of “Don't have too much fun!” from Michael.
Luke wasted no time in reaching for the TV remote. He switched on their locally supplied streaming service and queued a cheap looking movie. Michael felt the slightest bit offended at not getting a say on the matter, but it died pretty soon. He realized Luke's choice for the night's entertainment was almost exactly what Michael would have picked himself, had any of his energy been deployed into thinking about it. Even now, Luke was an expert at anticipating what he craved.
They had laid against the mountain of pillows with a good three feet of distance between them. However, not five minutes in, Michael was leaning closer to hear the sarcastic comments Luke made under his breath, and squirming in his direction with every chuckle at the screen.
During a particularly tense sequence, Luke curled in on himself and pressed back against Michael’s reassuring shoulder. When the exaggerated jumpscare finally came, he couldn't help but flinch a little. Michael felt it against his chest and tried to keep his smugness to himself.
From then on, they let their bodies fit together like pieces of a long since finished puzzle. It was natural for Michael to slip his arms behind his friend, for Luke to lay his head back and share his pillow. The sizzling in Michael’s gut, that he never dared call buttleflies, carried on like it would at any time.
“They're so stupid,” Michael heard Luke remark, though it was barely above a murmur.
“It's a horror movie, it doesn't work if they're not.”
“Not every horror movie needs dumb characters.”
Michael’s eyebrows scrunched up in contravention.
“Name one horror movie that doesn't.”
Luke turned to face Michael with a petty look, despite being fully in his arms. He opened his mouth, certainly preparing some smart-ass retort. Michael could tell his brain hadn't caught up to him when Luke's face fell and he looked back at the screen with a displeased grunt and a pout.
He was adorable, always had been when he lost an argument. Michael used to feel lucky for getting on his nerves and bringing out that reaction so often. Now it was a snapshot, more than anything, Luke's soft jaw and the moue of his lips making him look younger.
He ended up dozing off against Michael, no longer disturbed by any of the movie's attempts at terror. Michael was entirely used to having bandmates overstay their welcome to cuddles and use him as a pillow. Though he couldn't help but note how much time had passed since they'd last been like this. On the same bed, limbs tangled together, all the flimsy excuses of homesickness and sleep deprivation forgotten.
One last screech from the screen and the rolling of the credits pulled Michael out of his creeping misery.
He extracted his arms from their knot around Luke as carefully as possible. He tiptoed around the room for his stuff and was headed to the door when he heard a rustle of the sheets. Luke scrubbed his eyes and rolled lazily on the bed, looking too similar to a lanky black kitten. The blue TV light glazed his cheekbones and caught on his dangly earring.
A tight-lipped smile in his direction was all Michael could manage. He didn't dare step closer, lest the tingle on his skin for Luke's warmth make it impossible for him to leave.
“Good ni-”
“Could you stay?” Luke sat up on the bed, eyes gleaming in the dark. And then, after a beat, “Would that be weird?”
Michael shook his head. He was hopeless.
“‘Course not.” Nothing has felt this right in ages, he didn't say. “I'll stay.”
Luke switched off the TV and rolled onto his side without another word. Michael scrambled out of his shoes and flopped next to him. Not even his own restless mind could make this weird now, because Luke's head fit on the crook of his shoulder as well as it had since they were fifteen.
★★★
Band dinners were one of their most notably long-standing traditions. They had ranged everywhere from hot dogs and beers out of trucks to the fanciest places they could find halfway across the world from home. Currently, they looked like corner places at walking distance from hotels, pulled right from Ashton's Instagram bookmarks.
Michael was more than familiar with the warm mix of post concert adrenaline, a few drinks and being sandwiched between his best friends in a booth. He struggled a bit to maintain his grip on reality between the bright yellow lights and the feeling of Luke beside him, solid and inebriating.
On his right, Calum was deep in some ridiculous anecdote about home. Michael watched him with an easy slung smile and tapped his greasy fingers under the table.
Cal's eyes were smudged with leftover stage makeup and he had his glasses hanging from the collar of his shirt. His mouth had been stretched in a smile the entire time. Slanting his gaze the slightest bit, Michael had the complete view of Ashton's dopey grin as he hung on Calum's every word. He even had a hand behind Calum on the booth seat, rubbing circles on his back.
“You're so disgusting.” Michael declared, to Ashton's face.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ashton blinked at him, only mildly annoyed.
“Oh, you know.” Michael took a smug sip of his drink in place of an answer.
Beside him, Luke snorted out a laugh. The sound was tinted with drunk glee, bright and wonderful.
“Anyway,” Calum continued, glancing between them and expressing zero interest.
At some point, Ashton shifted his hand to rest suspiciously under the table, which brought another snicker out of Michael. Now entirely invested in behaving like an annoying child, he nudged Luke's shoulder to point out their antics.
Luke had to be way more out of it than him, because he fully belly laughed and had to bury his face on Michael’s shoulder to contain his trickling giggles.
Ashton ordered him water but solemnly ignored the two apart from that.
Michael was flushed from the familiar buzz of contact where Luke just had to keep resting his head. He thought giving into some cuddling urges would appease the childish longing for his best friend, and was unpleasantly surprised when that made it worse. So much for learning from past mistakes.
He must have been bouncing his leg because Luke took a hand to it and held down his thigh, as if Michael didn't have enough to deal with already.
This should not be weird, they were best mates and pretty tactile people. But Michael’s hazy mind was already rushing with memories of Luke's hands on him, gripping at him with more weight than was strictly necessary. Just as he was doing now.
Ashton was talking and they all giggled at him but Michael’s head was swimming. His muscles tensed despite himself and he was glad when Luke didn't seem to notice, only snuggling into him further.
“Apparently she works at a strip club and we were there at some p-”
“I think we should get going.” When Michael registered the sound of his own voice it had already interrupted Ashton.
The three of them shot him glances of mild startlement, but didn't complain.
“Some of us should definitely be wrapping up.” Calum commented with a pointed grin at Luke, who begrudgingly climbed out of the booth.
Back at the hotel, they bid each other goodbye on the way to their rooms, until only Michael and Luke were left on the elevator ride.
Michael fidgeted with his rings and tried not to wallow. He raised his eyes to find Luke already staring, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“Are we good?” Luke's voice was small when he asked.
“Yeah, of course.” He tried to sound as reassuring as possible, for both of their sakes, and received a nod in return. Then, because he had to say something, “Guess you won't be needing any cuddles from me tonight.”
Michael hated himself in those seconds it took for the doors to slide open.
Luke shrugged. How was he supposed to respond, anyway? Instead of stepping out immediately, though, he got closer in a sway and planted a kiss on Michael’s cheek.
“Good night, Mike.”
His boots clacked on the linoleum and a second later he was gone.
Michael’s body fell back to the elevator wall with a thud.
★★★★
“Aaaand… ‘The Only Reason’”. Ashton brandished the result screen for the wheel of names app from his place on the beanbag chair.
“Fuck,” Calum murmured.
Michael’s gaze snapped up from his phone, his face contorted in exaggerated offense. “I’m sorry?!”
At this point, the shrug Calum responded Michael’s shit with should be trademarked.
“Just don’t love my singing bit in it.”
“‘M afraid you’re a professional singer, Cal.” Came the chime in from Ashton.
“Professional bassist, thank you very much. Singing’s my favour to you.”
Ashton cackled, as he would at any of Calum's deadpans. Michael was then obliged to stretch all the way across his place on the couch to fix their bassist with a smack to the head.
Luke hummed in discontentment to have his snuggling position disturbed. His kilometric legs rested on Michael’s lap as he lay against the arm of the couch, seeming oblivious to the commotion around him.
He had been acting… reserved, in the last few days. Michael was reluctant to call it weird, though the distinction had been growing thin. They barely talked. Michael would try to mess with him and earn nothing but short, noncommittal answers. He sat there all wistful during breaks and band dinners, only cracking a laugh when Michael extracted himself from the conversation entirely. From anyone else, it would be insulting.
But then, Michael could not remember the last time he’d witnessed Luke be this clingy. He was always draping himself over the boys, sitting thigh to thigh, leaving pecks on their faces. And of course Michael had to be the main focus of those attentions. There wasn’t even anything to complain about. Except Luke was behaving like some undead, introspective version of his teenage self and Michael could not shake the concern that he’d caused it.
Soundcheck that day only worked to aggravate the confusion. Luke had no problem putting on his stage persona, quippy and smug behind his shades. Though this version of him didn’t spare Michael’s jokes and comments any more grace. Luke would steal nervous glances from the corner of his eye, as if anxious to even sit close to him. Michael was glad for sunglasses and a huge sweater to hide in.
He was ready for more of the same when they got up to the mics for surprise songs. He fixed the crowd with a vacant stare, focusing on his old lyrics, trying to envision anything but the meaning of the words.
When the first chorus rolled around, Michael allowed himself to check on Luke, for continuity’s sake. He didn’t expect to find Luke’s gaze already pinned on him, evident despite his sunglasses, because of how his whole body was angled to face him. Even under the stage lights, Michael could recognize Luke’s pained expression in the way his eyebrows knit together and his voice strained.
Michael was familiar with serenades, with how tempting they were when words wouldn’t come out otherwise. As an adult, he used to think they were ridiculous.
But then, there were Luke’s eyes, so completely disconcerting. Words he was sure didn’t make sense at this point in their lives, sang back to him in perfect harmony. Now Michael knew something was wrong.
Time was always short for them to wave goodbye and head backstage, so Michael’s hurry to leave didn’t call for any unwanted attention. That was until he made a point to nudge Luke’s hand off the small of his back and huff out “Picture would have lasted longer”, before marching away from him.
★★★★★
The van ride back to their hotel that night was quiet. Michael was reluctant to recognize it as awkward, but the restless tapping of his fingers and the evasive blank aspect of each of his bandmates were unmistakable.
He’d sworn off any and all eye contact with Luke since soundcheck, kept off him for the entirety of the show for the sake of his sanity. Their little fit of disfunctionality was bad enough without people outside the four of them noticing. Because of course Cal and Ash were already on their trail. Calum shifted his gaze between the two of them irritably and Ashton gave all telltale signs that he was about to call for a band meeting, as he did when someone would as much as breathe weird.
“Would you fucking stop it?” Michael punctuated the demand with a shove to Calum’s shoulder beside him. He was about to break his neck if he kept cranking it to stare at Luke any longer.
“The hell’s up with you?!” Calum sounded utterly fed up. Michael shut his eyes and dropped his head against the seat rest to escape his friend’s exasperation.
“Luke’s being annoying,” he answered in a shameless whine.
Luke didn’t legitimize Michael’s complain with a proper reaction, not even shifting from where he was sulking against the window. The only clue that he’d noticed the interaction at all was a “Fucking asshole” muttered under his breath.
“Okay, enough with you.” Ashton’s mama bear instinct bled through in his irritation, like it always had. “Act like adults.”
The remark earned him matching grunts from both offending parties.
The room fell back into a prickling silence, breached only by the sliding of the doors at their destination.
Michael’s urge to rush out and hole up in his room was hindered by Calum’s firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back onto the seat. He mustered enough energy to swat it away, but let him leave without further protest. From the corner of his eye, Ashton’s approach to Luke was similar, if a tad more sensible.
“Figure it out,” he called before stepping off the van and the gloomy atmosphere inside.
Michael had every intention of ignoring his friends’ peacemaking schemes and heading out. “Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled and made for the door, only to stop in his tracks at the sound of Luke’s scoff.
He turned around to find Luke still planted on the window seat, wearing a disgustingly self-righteous look. Michael knew that one quite well, from when he would get under his skin in every way possible and still be refused a reaction beyond chilling calm. He’d always hated it.
“Got a problem?”
Luke shrugged lightly. He couldn’t even be bothered to face Michael. “Nothing. It’s not like I expected them to make you talk.”
The redhead’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
“You’re so full of shit!” Luke’s eyes widened at his tone. Michael shook his head and an emotionless chuckle rolled out his mouth. “You ignore me for weeks and decide you wanna talk now, because, what? You couldn’t come up with more subliminal fucking messages? Leave me alone.”
Michael stormed out into the parking lot before he could ramble into something he’d regret. The blood rush in his ears was deafening and his heart thumped. Cool night air against his cheeks fixed nothing.
Even now, the buzz from Luke's attention ran through him like lightning.
Michael registered the thump from Luke's presumable clash with the car ceiling and the sound of his heeled boots. Hotel parking was deserted, save from a few staff members rolling bags away. Everyone else must have scurried off to avoid catching their strays. Shame buried itself at the base of Michael’s throat.
“Why are you so mad at me?” His spine tingled at Luke's voice, the hoarseness from strain, how small it sounded.
“I’m not, fuck, I’m-” Michael paused in a grounding breath. He still wasn’t ready for how wrecking the sight of Luke was when he raised his eyes. “You don’t get to do that. You can’t ignore my existence and come back to cuddle like nothing happened whenever you like, and act like we’re still, like…”
“I’m not! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ignore you.” The blue of his eyes pierced the dark, as if Luke’s anguish was glowing in them. He brushed a hand over the jet black strands falling onto them, Michael’s chest tugged at him to do the same. “I, just, we never talked about it.”
Michael suspected he wasn’t referring to the cuddles, or even the fakeout fiasco. The awareness of every conversation they didn’t have about being together, as clueless kids and then foolish adults, came crashing over him in a wave of remorse.
“Now's a bit late for that.” Michael’s voice was low as he shoved his frosting hands in his pockets. Luke stepped up tentatively, like he wanted to do something about it. Though when he spoke, he sounded rough and pained.
“Yeah, I know that! You know I’m okay with that. You’re the one who said we should kiss as joke, like it was cool, and then fucking shut me off.”
Precisely for this reason, Michael should have told him. Because he could barely hear Luke talk about it without screaming. Feel his warmth and his smell and be satisfied with the distance. Be alone with him in the dark and not have to fight the wounded beast in his chest that was desperate for more.
“We shouldn’t have done that.” Any of that, Michael wanted to add, but didn't have it in himself to lie.
Luke flailed his arms. “Guess not! Just don’t avoid me over it, will you?”
Michael kicked the concrete under his feet. Every last bit of energy he had was going into not venting out each of his embarrassing thoughts about them from the past few weeks. But Luke was charging him with his hurt puppy stare, the bastard. Not once had Michael been able to deny that one.
“I have to! I don’t really have a time machine so that’s, like, the next best thing if we’re not gonna mess this up.” His voice grew loud and desperate at its own accord as he failed to stop the confession spilling out. “I… I miss you, so much. It’s so stupid. Because we’re, like, completely fine. But I keep having these thoughts and- And being nervous around you like a fucking school kid. I can’t help it.”
The shameful weight lifted off him in a sigh. The cold air enveloping them seemed to crackle with the sudden quiet. Luke’s stunned little frown and wringing of his fingers were too much for Michael to face. He ran a helpless hand over his eyes and felt them sting.
“I don’t even wanna bring songs up to you because they’re all about, fucking…” He gestures largely towards the subject, avoiding his gaze. “I know it’s just another thing I’ll fuck up.”
“Mike,” Luke sounded low with caution. It lured him in either way.
At some point, he had gotten close enough to reach for Michael’s arm without causing him to startle. Too close for it to be safe. Luke’s furrowed brow and gleaming eyes were an offense of their own.
“You don’t fuck things up.”
He sounded so certain and lovely that Michael had to close the distance between them just to prove him wrong.
He felt Luke freeze under his hands for a moment as their lips met. Michael himself had shaky hands and was ready to pull away after a second, until a soft whine escaped Luke's throat and he was a goner.
He grasped at warm skin and dark curls. Luke kept them flush together with arms around his neck, lips as pliant as he remembered and even softer, his tongue sliding tentatively between them…
Michael’s head rang with alarm bells. This could not happen.
He extracted himself from Luke in a daze. Leaving him in this state would be cruel, swaying on his feet with his face kissed red. Almost as bad as fucking things up further by staying.
Michael had no choice. He bolted.
☆
Pale morning sunlight had been streaming into his hotel room for a good half hour. Michael had made peace with a sleepless night long before that.
He’d stormed in from the parking lot in a panic, longing for the dark haven of his bed, where he hoped to hide out forever. He paced around with the well known adrenaline of a monumental fuckup, until the crash down led him to miserable, self-soothing scrolling under the covers.
He winded up in fan comments, for a change. The silly ones managed a few chuckles out of him, yet every picture of Luke and observation about them from past shows only worked to deepen the hollow ache in his chest. A gif of their godforsaken almost-kiss caused Michael to interrupt his screen time entirely.
From then on, he twisted and turned aimlessly, until coming to the decision that he was unworthy of sleep anyway. He reached for the hotel-issued pen and notepad and granted himself some scribbles about his feelings. He would probably never want to see those again.
Michael had been watching the mites on the ceiling and trying to forget his corporeal existence when three faint knocks sounded on the door. He considered, for a second, whether they could be hallucinations, and got up anyway.
The sight of Luke in his ragged sleep shirt and sweats wasn’t surprising at all. The speed he charged into the room with and the wild flash in his eyes, though. It reminded Michael of doing party drugs and drove him back a few steps.
Apparently, the last few hours had treated Luke the same. His hair was matted, the black tousle of curls in stark contrast with his bare face, grey shadows prominent under his eyes. The blue still blazed through the dark room like flares in a storm.
“Are you okay?”
Michael cringed at how idle the question sounded, but he needed to know. Good thing Luke pushed right past it.
“You’re right. We shouldn’t have done that.”
Michael’s expression at him was likely that of a sluggish question mark. He buried his hands in his hoodie pocket lest Luke noticed their faint trembling. Though, to be fair, he was the one standing in Michael’s room like a distressed sleep paralysis demon.
“It shouldn’t have been fake,” he offered as further explanation.
“What-”
Any confusion Michael intended to express was cut off by Luke’s lips on his.
Michael was the one in a surprise stupor this time around. Luke lunged at him so fiercely that it disturbed his balance.
When his brain finally caught up to reality and the body against his, Michael dove into it head first. Luke was cold to the touch where he cradled his cheek and pawed at his waist. The kiss was all anguish and desperation and Luke biting at his lips with brunt enough to hurt. Michael’s mouth went pliant and he moaned into Luke each time, happy to take it.
The room around them was so completely shut out that Michael barely noticed the steps Luke took back towards the bed, guiding him with arms around his neck. His senses picked up nothing but LukeLukeLuke. The lingering of his cologne under the smell of soap, the tinge of bitterness on his tongue like he’d been smoking, how rapidly his skin heated up under his hands.
That was until his chest dipped lower and lower onto Luke and his hands grazed the smooth cool of the sheets.
He pulled away from Luke's mouth with a wet noise.
“Wait.” The arms encircling Michael’s neck dropped immediately. “We can't do this.”
Luke stared up at him wide-eyed, lips parted and kiss-bruised, his brow furrowed in such a completely different manner than earlier. As if he saw something beautiful and struggled to comprehend it. Michael didn't have the will to move even an inch further from him.
“Tell me to leave. If that's what you want, really.” The challenge was evident in Luke's voice.
The cool blue of his darkened eyes blazed through Michael’s. With that and the black hair splayed over the sheets, he really did look villainous. He had full conscience of his effect on Michael, now more than ever.
Michael urged himself to escape it. His mind conjured the thousands of reasons why he should get away from his friend, his best friend, before they could fuck each other up further. All so familiar, but somehow not one that could make him overcome the lump in his throat. His guilt wasn’t even enough to get him out of Luke's arms. He shook his head in defeat.
“What do you want?”
Luke's touch to his cheek was cautious but firm, locking their eyes back together. He was pure déjà vu, words as soft as they were on his first time ever luring Michael in.
One more glance at the man underneath him had Michael concluding he was no better than he'd been at sixteen, as he crossed the distance to his lips.
There was no fight to Luke's kissing this time. He melted under Michael's touch and licked into his mouth like they had all the time in the world. Hands reaching under his hoodie sent goosebumps spreading all over Michael’s skin. He pulled it over his head in one swift motion, which Luke followed with cold fingertips, as if he couldn't reach enough of him.
Michael grunted into Luke’s mouth as he felt the strength of his thighs around him, ankles crossed, locking them as close as they could be without melding together.
His hips buckled down at their own accord and the friction of Luke's hardening cock against his own was dizzying.
“Fuck, Mike, please,” he gasped, barely discernible.
He reached between them, unsure what for but suddenly obsessed to satisfy Luke's pleading. Close as they were, he could manage little else beyond a few messy strokes at Luke through his sweats, free hand working on his nipple. Time apart had certainly affected Michael’s coordination for this, but each pained little sound falling off Luke’s lips was a reminder of which buttons to push.
Soon, Luke was yanking his t-shirt off and lifting his hips so Michael could get his hands around him properly. Michael stroked him slow and rough, enjoying the moans stained with frustration and the dull scrape of fingernails on his side. Salt spread on his tongue from the expanse of Luke’s neck, where he’d buried his face. He scraped his teeth against the skin deliberately, careful not to bruise.
Michael could have dragged the moment for ages, forgoing the need to touch himself or even to breathe, really, if Luke’s pained voicing of his name hadn’t morphed into coherence.
“Please fuck me.” It was low, but indisputable. Not a syllable was different from when Michael had last heard it.
He levelled himself with hazy blue eyes, almost entirely swollen with black.
“You sure?” His voice failed, destroying any chance he had at composure. He was a kid again. On top of his best friend, not too sure of how he got here and mortified of fucking it up.
“Please,” Luke repeated, any further vocabulary seeming to have evaporated. They had no use for words anyway, with how tightly he was holding onto Michael and how the weight of the request quivered in his voice.
Michael smirked. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
The laugh in return was entirely breathless and disbelieving.
“Come here, baby.”
Michael collected long limbs in his arms as best as he could to adjust Luke against the pillows. He felt a peck pressed to his shoulder when he provided an extra one for under Luke’s hips and discarded his pants.
Michael took his time pushing his knees up, recalling the tenderness of Luke’s inner thighs with his fingertips and sucking on his lip. He felt a featherlike touch to his cheek from Luke’s caresses, before he treaded up to card through red strands. He’d looked so peaceful when Michael disconnected their lips, eyes closed and lashes fluttering. It was all the more obscene, then, when Michael pressed two fingers to his mouth and Luke took them in with no hesitation. He couldn’t help but groan at the sight of Luke’s stretched lips and the memories of how he was always delighted to have his mouth full.
“You’re so good, baby,” Michael murmured without even thinking as he retracted his fingers.
Luke’s cock visibly twitched at the praise. Michael couldn’t help but giggle when the man slung his arm up to cover his face and his call to “hurry” was drawn out in shame.
Fingers as wet as he could get them, Michael circled his entrance and felt the protests of his own neglected dick. He tugged at it mindlessly over his pants as all his focus went into carefully scissoring Luke open.
Michael registered the trembling of thighs and the tightening grip on his hair as he grazed Luke’s prostate. He caught Luke’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, tongues pressing eagerly together and spit drippling, before hammering into the spot with a third finger. Luke let out a broken scream Michael was ready to swallow and tugged at his hair in earnest.
Michael slowly pulled out his fingers and hoped the mess of saliva and superficial bites he was making of Luke’s neck was enough of a distraction.
“You okay?” he asked, an inch of Luke’s ear, and felt him nod.
Michael ditched his pants at record speed. His hand found black curls like a mooring as he positioned himself over Luke again. The absence of lube or anything of the sort swirled in his mind along the torrent of Luke-related thoughts. He rubbed at his aching cock for a moment before extending his hand.
“Spit.”
Luke’s promptness at doing so was almost too much for Michael to handle. The high of exerting control on him was unmatched and the effects of it coursed through Michael’s veins.
He pushed his hips down and slid into Luke with as much patience as he could muster. The slick tightness of him drew a filthy moan out of Michael, who had to hide against his neck to keep it from echoing around the room. Michael kissed the skin there and nipped at his earlobe as Luke’s breath evened out and he relaxed.
“Can you still take it like a good boy?” Michael only had the nerve to whisper it.
He saw a shiver wash over Luke’s body before he tried to spurt out an answer and resorted to nodding.
Moving into Luke had Michael’s head in the clouds. He abandoned any concept of restraint at the feeling of Luke around him, gasping his name, his feverish limbs hanging onto him, the snapping sounds of their bodies filling the room.
Luke dug his nails into Michael’s back and started to arch up to meet his thrusts, already impatient. Michael held his hips down hard enough to leave handprints behind, selfishly wishing to do so.
“Come on,” Luke panted, and soon had Michael's glossed over eyes fixed to his. “Don't hold back. Give it to me.”
“Fuck, Luke” he stammered, thrown off the loop, and immediately obliged him.
His knees dug into the mattress with the force of his thrusts, each one earning a punched out gasp out of Luke. Michael changed his angle the slightest bit and heard him cry out. He forced his eyes to remain open in the effort, watching the curve of Luke’s lips around his name, the crimson blooming from his neck to his cheeks, the little crinkles beside his eyes and the scrunch of his nose. Trying to commit every detail to memory before they were gone again.
“No one else’s treating you this good, right, Lukey?” His voice sounded far off and foreign. The nature of his thoughts only became clear to Michael after he’d exposed them. He couldn’t say he was surprised when Luke responded, though.
“No one,” he echoed. “Need you.”
Air suddenly felt scarce in Michael’s lungs. His stomach flipped and his hips stammered, coming down heavy.
“Mike,” Luke’s voice cut through the fog in his brain. “I missed you.”
As much as he wished he’d forgotten, Michael knew it by heart.The slow part of his lips and the tensing of his shoulders, how close he could tell Luke was from it.
“You have me.”
Another cry burst out of Luke as he came, all over their stomachs. Michael could have sworn he saw a beady glow threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes, if it wasn’t for the sheer disorienting force of the orgasm that washed over him as Luke clenched down.
Vision blurred, Michael brought his lips to Luke’s and held him in what could barely be called a proper kiss. They lingered in the atmosphere of their shared breathing until Luke grunted out his discomfort.
The room around him felt painfully cold when Michael sat up. He knocked down the pristine pile of hotel towels and took one to Luke's belly, gently wiping his release away.
He got a dumb, unbearably sweet grin from under Luke's splayed hands. Michael made a point not to stare.
He made quick work of his own wiping and settled back between Luke’s legs. Wobbly as they were, Michael was sure to support him by the thighs as he licked a stripe from his taint up until where Luke was dripping with his cum. A surprised, spent gasp sounded above him. He started with kitten licks, running his hands over trembling warm skin. The sensation of his own release leaking out of Luke into his mouth was one out of Michael’s filthiest teenage dreams. He used his tongue on Luke until he was clean and squirming from overstimulation.
Something wild and possessive stirred in Michael’s chest at the sight. Luke, at a loss for words, eyes alight from lust and the few beams of sunlight pouring onto his bed, taken apart in a way only Michael could have him. The near prospect of losing this again brought him awfully close to regret.
By the time he laid down next to Luke, his head was in turmoil.
“Nice trick.” Luke sounded unimpressed, but the breathless edge to his statement betrayed him.
“You love it.”
Luke tried to turn away but his dimpled smile was undeniable. He sighed and let Michael share his pillow. Anywhere else would have felt wrong.
Their bodies fit together on the bed, inevitably, as if by magnetic propulsion. Trepidation hammered in Michael’s ribcage as he burrowed himself at Luke’s side and threw an arm around him, anticipating rejection. Yet the comfortable silence wore on.
“Need to be up by eight,” Luke murmured at some point. Halfway to unconsciousness, Michael felt the words vibrate out of him more than he heard them.
“Okay,” he hummed back, and off he was.
Michael woke to violent knocks on his door, probably in admonition for the long forgotten deadline of eight AM.
He sat up, pining for the best three hours of rest he’d had in years. He basked in the sight of Luke for a moment, curled up in Michael’s sheets like he belonged there, kindly rejuvenated by sleep.
The momentary cluelessness when Michael stirred him awake made him all the more adorable, as did his frustration to learn of their tardiness. Luke’s clumsy rush to get out of bed and back into his clothes actually had Michael giggling. He’d only bothered with his pants when Luke slowed down to sit back next to him.
“Are we okay?”
The quiet anxiety settling over Luke’s features had Michael aching to give him an answer. He had none.
“I’m sorry, I… I really don’t know.”
Luke was evading his eyes when he spoke again.
“Do you regret it?”
“Wait, no.” It was the only thing Michael could have absolute certainty about. “No, I would never.”
“Me neither.”
When the blue flashed at him again, it was all the reassurance Michael needed. He still had him, the boy he’d fallen in love with. The one who saw through all his bullshit and loved him back anyway, the way they knew how to. Despite any metamorphosis of the circumstances.
The very tips of Luke’s fingers grazed his on the bed, a peace offering.
“Can I-”
Michael wrapped him in an all-consuming hug before Luke had the audacity to ask.
They did manage to not miss the departure of their own tour bus. Michael was grateful to note Cal and Ash were not up in their shit much as they would have when they were kids and discovering the wonders of intra-band hookups.
“Did you figure it out?” Was the only question Calum had for him after good morning.
“Sure!” Michael flashed his teeth in a wicked grin that had Calum sputtering.
“Spare me of the details.”
Michael barked out a laugh at him.
He let himself be anchored by the rolling view out the window and the reassuring weight of Luke’s head resting on his shoulder. By the levity of his breathing, Michael could tell he’d already drifted off into a nap, still and perfectly in place.