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It's 6 in the evening and everyone has reached their breaking point.
Even Ashton is curled up on a sofa with his earphones in, ignoring the world. Calum asks him about how he'd like it if someone suddenly shoved a phone in his face and asked him to film a keek while he's feeling like this, like he does to them. Ashton throws a pillow at him.
They've done 3 interviews with only an hour of downtime between each of them. The worst thing about that hour was that you couldn't really do anything except wait for the next interview to start because if you fell asleep, you'd wake up feeling even more limp than before. So they just sit around in their dressing rooms and try not complain too much.
"Should've just listened to my mum back in year 9 and become an accountant," Luke grumbles, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in their dressing room.
"You sucked at accounting. You couldn't even use a calculator properly." Michael reminds him, looking up from his phone to raise his eyebrows at the blond. Calum snorts a laugh from where the mirror, where he's been for the last half-hour, fixing his hair. It doesn't take kindly to sleep deprivation and it's practically dead, like the rest of his band.
"I could've gotten better at it. Gotten a tutor 'Sides, accountants don't have to do interviews." He whines.
Michael looks up at Luke, who is too lost in his misery to even notice. He keeps staring until Luke eventually looks up. Once he sees that Michael's paying attention to his misery, he lets his bottom lip jut outwards in a pout that screams, I'm sad, come comfort me. Michael, having never been able to resist Luke at the best of times, rolls his eyes and gets up, plopping down next to him.
"C'mere, you giant child," Michael sighs, putting an arm around him. Luke stiffens at first, grumbling something about how he's not a child but then relaxes into Michael's arms because Michael's cuddles are known for having healing properties.
There's a relative silence, the only noise that can be heard being Ashton's loud rock music blaring through his earphones and the occasional rush of air from the can of hairspray Calum is messing with.
"'M'not ungrateful, or anything, for all this," Luke says suddenly, quieter so only Michael can hear, gesturing around the dressing room. "Its just... It takes a lot out of you. I love what we do, I really do,"
Michael rubs Luke's back soothingly. "S'okay, Lukey, I know you do. You don't have to prove anything to me." He murmurs. He gets how Luke's feeling. With the life they live, they can't always speak their minds, and after living like that for so long, they all find themselves overthinking what they say after they've said it, worrying that it'll make people mad.
"Show starts in forty-five minutes, so you might wanna, like breast-feed you kid or whatever and get him ready," Calum says to Michael, flinging his hairbrush to the ground in a final act of frustration with his hair. Michael flips him off.
Luke lets out a long, loud groan that goes on for about ten seconds as he thinks about getting up and running around after sitting in one place for the better part of an hour.
Ashton looks up, taking one earphone out.
"Why's Luke making porn-star noises?"
"'Cause he's all pressed against my hot bod. Can't help himself," Michael says absently, scrolling on his phone. It's become so natural for him to tease Luke. Like a reflex.
Luke punches him hard in the stomach. Michael groans. He wasn't sure how Luke had convinced his fans that he's some kind of angelic pacifist when, in reality, he picks a fight with Michael at least once a day. In retaliation, Michael takes a fistful of his hair and pulls as hard as he can.
Calum rolls his eyes at the pair then puts his iPod in the dock, playing loud rock songs filled with drums and unintelligible roaring to at least wake them up a little.
Luke lets out an unintelligible noise, followed by a long stream of whiny "Owww!"'s which only get louder and more aggressive as Michael pulls even harder. Luke struggles to free himself from Michael's grip, and changes his technique, yelling for Ashton to stop listening to his emo music and come help him, dammit.
"Michael leave Luke's hair alone please, it's the only reason our fans like this band," Ashton says tiredly, getting up and stretching.
Calum splutters in objection, and Ashton throws him an, I'm just trying to calm Michael down, I don't mean it look, one which Calum gets a lot.
"S'okay, he likes it rough," Michael assures Ashton.
"You'd know all about that, I'm sure," Calum says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Michael. Michael lets Luke go almost immediately, glaring at Calum as he feels a blush suddenly start to take over his face. Luke massages his scalp with a disgruntled but smug expression on his face.
Michael honest to God hates Calum.
Ashton laughs, going over to help Luke fix up his hair.
"Giant fucking child," Michael grumbles, because this is just what Luke does. Pulls the 'baby of the band' card and has everyone falling at his feet trying to protect him.
*
Every time they play a show, it's easy to remember why they love what they do so much.
Michael's heart is pounding in his chest and the adrenaline rushing through him makes him want to, like, run laps of the arena. He doesn't do that though because he'd probably get dragged away by a group of fans halfway through his first lap so he settles for skipping excitedly back to the dressing room.
Luke is already there, shirtless and sweaty. He seems to have forgiven Michael, or maybe he's just too giddy to care anymore, because he gives Michael this huge, angelic smile as soon as he walks in, which. Michael's heart rate kind of speeds back up again.
"Sorry about your hair, Hemmo," he says all the same, ruffling his golden locks as he passes by him to get a bottle of water out of the fridge.
"No problem. I'll get you back." Luke promises, a glint of something that kind of scares Michael in his eyes. It's especially eerie because Luke still has a smile on his face, and is still bouncing around to the best of the pop song playing through the speakers of Calum's iPod dock, even while he's threatening him.
"I'd like to see you try," Michael says challengingly, lifting the water bottle to his lips and drinking.
Luke doesn't say anything else, because just then, Ashton comes rushing in, with Calum on his back, screaming the lyrics to Uptown Funk, the song playing through the speakers.
Ashton runs a lap of the dressing room while Calum squeals like a kid. Luke turns up the volume and gets up on the coffee table, spilling the bottle of water he's holding everywhere, dancing terribly but having fun nonetheless. Michael gets called a boring fuck because he doesn't join them.
Michael also wishes that Luke didn't know exactly how to get in his head and stay there like some kind of fucked-up invader.
"I literally never need to sleep again," Luke says over the music, fists pumping the air, hips moving to the beat. Michael isn't staring.
"Bro, same," Ashton says, trying to put Calum down while he clings to his back and wails mournfully.
*
Michael's band is fucking weak.
They all fall asleep maybe five minutes after they get into the car that's bringing them to the hotel. Michael takes a picture of them and tweets it, then settles down to maybe clock out himself, but he can't.
He finds his gaze straying over to look at Luke, who's jaw is slack. He looks like he's about to start drooling on Calum's shoulder, which should repulse Michael, but it doesn't, just like everything Luke does.
Staring at your friends like this while they're sleeping is weird, Michael decides eventually. He should really stop that.
Michael practically has to carry Luke out of the car. He has an arm wrapped tightly around him and supports most of his weight as he stumbles along into the hotel. Ashton lets Calum ride on his back again.
"Why can't you treat me like that?" Luke murmurs accusingly, gesturing to the other two boys.
Michael rolls his eyes. "I'm not a fucking horse, Hemmings,"
Luke grumbles something but doesn't reply, leaning more of his weight on Michael, his eyes slipping closed as he's guided to the elevators.
Michael heaves a long-suffering sigh. He can never get any appreciation in this band.
They're separated into their usual pairs. Luke tries to just collapse into his bed with his clothes and shoes still on him, eyes closing as soon as his body hits the bed, but Michael, after a lot of swearing and threatening, manages to get him to go have a shower and change into his sleep clothes.
"Hate you," Luke mumbles, kicking his jeans off and stomping into the bathroom.
"Love you too, honey," Michael smiles sweetly at him, pulling his shirt off.
Michael sits back on his bed, wondering when he decided to take on the role of Luke's caregiver. He pulls out his phone, scrolling aimlessly to pass the time. The shower shuts off eventually, and Michael notes that Luke still manages to take the longest showers ever, even when he's half asleep. Luke emerges from the bathroom in his boxers, looking soft, clean and a little damp.
"I was worried you'd drowned," Michael says as Luke literally crawls into bed, looking more like he's 5'4 as opposed to 6'4.
"Not worried enough to check?" Luke asks.
"You're a good swimmer. I have faith in you." Michael smiles at him. Luke snorts, then brings a finger to his lips, requesting silence. Michael tries not to smile fondly and fails.
*
"I kind of liked it,"
Luke breathes, "When he pulled my hair,"
Michael squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to get back to sleep, but then opens them as he remembers that it was a voice that woke him up, and that he and Luke are the only two in the room.
"Luke?" Michael mumbles groggily. When he doesn't get a reply, he reaches under his pillow for his phone, checking the time. It's half three in the morning.
"I didn't wanna say so. That'd be..." Michael turns slowly to face Luke's bed, squinting in the darkness. Luke sniffles a little then continues, "That'd be weird."
Michael's heart practically stops, because there is no fucking way-
He reaches up to turn on his bedside lamp, knocking his phone loudly to the ground in his haste. He curses quietly as Luke starts, shuffling a little before settling down.
"Felt good, even though it hurt," he murmurs sleepily, which- holy fuck.
Luke is talking in his sleep. About something Michael did.
About how he liked what Michael did.
He's quiet for a while, and then his breathing gets deeper, more even. Michael figures there won't be anymore talking.
He runs a hand through his hair, staring incredulously at the younger boy. He's roomed with him so many times before and he's never even heard him snore. Now all of a sudden he's speaking.
*
The next day, before Luke is even awake, Michael bursts into Ashton's room to find Ashton doing push ups.
"Ash," Michael gasps, out of breath from running all the way there.
"Hey," Ashton greets him, looking up briefly. He sees the expression on Michael's face, all wide-eyed and flushed. Ashton's eyebrows pull together. "Did you just get laid or something?"
"Even better," Michael says, sitting on his bed. "Luke spoke in his sleep last night."
Ashton blinks, standing up, suppressing the urge to ask why this is more exciting than sex, to Michael.
"In his sleep?" He says doubtfully, saving the part about how this is somehow better than getting laid to Michael for later. "You're sure he wasn't awake?"
Michael shakes his head. "No, he'd never say anything like that if he was awake."
"And what'd he say?" Ashton says, curious now.
Michael pauses for a minute, weighing how mad Luke would be if he told anyone about this against how fast Michael could outrun him if the worst came to the worst.
"Said he liked it when I pulled his hair in the dressing room, yesterday."
"He liked that?" Ashton asks, confused. Calum walks in from the bathroom, a towel round his waist, his hair wet.
"Who liked what?" He asks, sitting next to Michael on Ashton's bed.
"Luke was talking in his sleep last night." Ashton says, still looking a little confused.
Calum's eyebrows raise. "He hasn't done that since we were in school,"
Ashton and Michael stare at him. "You know about this?" Michael asks, feeling weird about Calum knowing something about Luke that he doesn't. Not jealous, though. Definitely not jealous.
Calum grimaces, biting his lip and starting to towel himself dry. "Well, yeah, he told me a few years back. I wasn't really supposed to tell anyone, though. H'es gonna flip shit if he finds out you guys know, you know how Luke gets,"
Michael nods. Luke was the reigning champion at giving the Silent Treatment in the band. Possibly in the world.
"Well we know now. Talk," Ashton prods him.
"It was when the band was just taking off," Calum sighs eventually, pulling on his boxers. "He was exhausted all the time became he was trying to keep up with his schoolwork and with the band at the same time, even though we'd all given up on school. Nerd." Calum snorts, struggling into a pair of skinny jeans. "And then it started." He shrugs.
Michael thinks about spent Luke has been feeling lately, and he makes the link to the time Calum was talking about, the only other time Luke's ever looked so tired all the time.
"So you think exhaustion triggers it or something?" Michael asks. Calum nods.
"Think so. What'd he say, anyway?"
"He told me he liked it when I was pulling his hair yesterday." Michael says smugly. "Told you he liked it rough." Calum starts laughing and Ashton rolls his eyes at both of them, then focuses on Michael.
"Don't mess with him, Mike," Ashton warns him, looking serious all of a sudden.
Michael waves him off. "I wouldn't dream of it."
No-one believes him for a second.
*
They're in the same hotel the next night, since it's a two-night show.
Michael's managed to not grab Luke's hair and pull as hard as he can so far, which is a huge accomplishment, especially since he knows it'll probably get Luke to chub up at least a little if he does it right, and it's hard for him to resist that opportunity.
"How're you feeling?" He asks Luke as he sits back in his bed.
Luke looks up at him and nods. "Alright." He says, giving him a small smile. "My back's killing me though," He sighs, reaching a hand to rub at the back of his neck, trying, and failing at soothing the ache himself.
Michael's heart hurts a little, but he passes it off as sadness that his bro's in pain.
"I could help you with that," Michael offers. "My hands are known to be magic."
Luke rolls his eyes. "I don't trust you with my back. My spine's in there. Shit's important," He says, laying on his back with a groan.
Michael scoffs. "Your loss."
*
"Michael,"
Michael nearly shits himself, before he remembers that it's just Luke and him. Again. He checks the time, and sees that it's three-thirty, just like the last time. He turns around and switches on his lamp to see Luke's eyes closed, his lips parted slightly, like he's about to say something, which Michael guesses he is.
His forehead creases suddenly, lips forming that signature pout that gets Michael every time as he repeats, a little whinier this time, "Michael,"
Michael is aware Ashton is probably going to kill him if he dares say a word, but Luke is literally dreaming about him and he can't just let it slide. Anyway, Ashton doesn't have to know.
"Yeah, Luke?" He whispers, voice low. The worry-lines in Luke forehead smooth out almost immediately, his rigid frame becoming relaxed. Michael is literally entranced.
"My back's fucking killing me,"
Michael snorts a laugh, covering his mouth to keep himself quiet.
"I offered to help," Michael reminds him, trying to get over the fact that he's on Luke's mind, even when he's not conscious. (He fails. He can't get over it.)
"But if you touch me, I might like it," He says softly. Michael stops laughing, staring closely at the blond. He watches Luke for a little while longer, but he just mumbles gibberish for a little while then stops talking. Michael watches Luke for another ten minutes after he's lapsed into silence.
Michael is well and truly fucked.
*
Luke doesn't seem to have any idea that he's ruining Michael's life during his sleep.
He says the weirdest fucking things and the worst thing is that they're mainly confessions. Not even, like, serious confessions, just extremely dumb ones that are obviously making Luke feel guilty because he's a fucking dweeb that can't tell a lie.
He tells Michael a bunch of things, like how he doesn't actually hate the pancakes Michael makes, and how they're actually one of his favorite foods. He tells him he was the one who stole the last slice of chocolate cake Calum's mom made for them, and that he's not even sorry because it was really good. He tells him all about how, one night after a show, he made out with a cute girl but wasn't even bothered to bring her back to the hotel because even though she was all hot and bothered, he felt nothing towards her.
Michael tries not to act on anything Luke has told him, but it doesn't really work out so well. He finds himself wondering how Luke would react if he roughed him up a little, smacked his ass, pinned him to the ground. Not the most normal thoughts to be having about your band-mate, but it's not like Michael's ever had much control over his own thoughts.
*
"How're you holding up?" Ashton asks, sitting next to him on the sofa, getting all up in Michael's personal space instead of sitting on the other end. Michael figures an interrogation is on the way.
"Great," Michael mutters in reply. He looks straight ahead of him, because he can feel Ashton's eyes staring at him intensely and he just. He really doesn't need this right now, doesn't need Ashton asking him going on when he's not so sure himself.
"Judging by the fact that you've been staring into space for the last ten minutes, I'm gonna have to call bullshit." Ashton huffs, folding his arms.
"I'm fine!" Michael repeats, getting up and storming off, partly because he's feeling a little guilty about the fact that he's encouraging Luke's sleep-talking and Ashton has this freaky way of getting Michael to talk about what's on his mind instead of internalizing it the way nature intended so it's just. It's not safe to talk to Ashton right now.
Later in the day, Michael's pulled out of an intense game of FIFA by a low groaning sound coming from another room. He sighs, getting up to see who's dying and walks in on a shirtless Luke, face-down on the sofa Michael was sitting on just hours ago, Calum straddling his hips, giving him a backrub like Michael had offered to do just yesterday.
Calum's eyebrows furrow in concentration, working on a particular spot in the center of Luke's wide back. "It's there, right? The pain?"
"Yeah," Luke breathes, voice thick and heavy.
"Uh," Michael says, feeling weird about just standing in the doorway with his emotions all over the place. He hopes he looks at least slightly composed.
Calum looks up. "Hey, bro," is all he says, before returning to what he's doing, working out the knots in Luke's muscles. "It's your posture that's fucking up your back, man. I keep telling you to quit slouching." He scolds.
"Stop yelling at me," Luke mutters, sounding like a kid. Calum rolls his eyes. Luke looks up at the boy still standing, watching them. "Hi, Michael," he sighs, and is that- Luke is smirking at him.
Michael is all over the place because Luke could have come to him but he didn't, even though he's had dreams about him two nights in a row.
"Bye," Michael manages, taking a deep breath and walking away, going back to his Xbox.
He gets a text from Luke about an hour later.
Told you I'd get you back.
*
They get ready for bed that night in silence. Luke is still ridiculously smug, and goes around looking the smartass he is. Michael doesn't bother saying anything to him, and eventually, Luke comes to sit on the edge of Michael's bed.
"Are you mad at me?"
Michael looks up. Luke has this crestfallen expression on his face. Michael wants to hurry to re-assure him but bites his tongue and scoffs at him instead.
"Why would I be?"
Luke blinks. "That whole thing... With Calum." He shrugs, smiling a little. "You looked jealous-"
"As if," Michael says, rolling his eyes. "Get massages from whoever you want, doesn't bother me." He's a liar. He's such a fucking liar.
Luke nods. "Right." He says, not looking like he believes him. Michael doesn't say anything else, so Luke sighs and climbs properly onto Michael's bed, laying down next to him.
"Go 'way," Michael mumbles, not sounding very convincing at all. The heat of Luke's body next to his is not helping his anger.
"No," Luke mumbles into the pillow.
"Go away," Michael says again, flicking Luke in the head. Luke doesn't reply, just kicks Michael's leg. Michael ignores him, settling down under the covers to go to sleep. He doesn't make any move to cuddle him or even touch him, which is a feat of self-control on it's own.
*
"Michael, please," Luke sighs softly into the dark room.
Michael mumbles out a grumpy "Shut up," trying to get back to sleep. Luke just whines, pulling Michael right out of his stupor. He checks the time: three-thirty. Of course.
"I need-" He starts, then cuts himself on, eyebrows furrowed. Michael turns his head to stare at him. His voice sounds different, from all the other times. Still slow and deep, like he usually is when he starts, but his words are drawn out somehow.
As Michael watches him, Luke shifts a little against the bed and whimpers softly, looking exactly like he's trying to get himself off. Michael swallows, shutting his eyes and letting his read rest in his hands, forcing himself to remain silent when he really wants to scream profanity at Luke and at the world. What, he wants to know, did he do to deserve this?
"Mikey," Luke's voice is more urgent now, pitched a little higher, hips moving a little faster as he desperately seeks release.
"Luke," Michael breathes without thinking. "Luke, are you having a dirty dream about me?" Luke whimpers at the sound of his voice. Michael's breath catches in his throat, blood catching fire beneath his skin.
He watches him rut forward heavily against the mattress, breathing shallowly, sucking in short breaths. Michael imagines him thickening up in his boxers as Luke continues to chase the friction and fuck, this isn't the first time Michael's thought about getting Luke on his back and sucking him off.
Michael, teeth in his bottom lip, moves his hand to stroke Luke's fringe back out of his face. Luke sighs at the contact.
"Mikey, w-want you," He moans out, hips moving almost desperately now.
Michael lets out a rush of air. "Fuck, Luke, we can't," He says, mouth seeming to form the words without his brains permission.
"Please," he begs, thrusts becoming less control as he gets close.
"Jesus," Michael finds himself moaning, "I want you really bad," he confesses, hand running over his crotch.
Luke whimpers, fists clenching. "Mmm, gonna come,"
"Come for me," Michael practically moans out, heart thudding in his chest.
This seems to do it for Luke. He makes a small choking sound, shuddering then coming, coating the sheets beneath him. His breathing calms and his body relaxes.
Michael stares at him for a little longer, because Luke's just come because of him, and he's not too sure what to do about it. Michael should have woken him up, lied and said he was snoring and at least get out of his bed or something. Michael is a terrible person and he feels guilty as fuck.
Michael's cock twitches traitorously in his boxers. Grumbling, he gets out of his bed and tugs himself off in the bathroom, images of how desperate Luke looked just minutes ago flooding his mind.
*
Luke blushes all day.
At least that's what it seems like.
Michael gets out of bed before Luke because he knows that Luke's going to want to fix the problem of his come-stained boxers in private and Michael is nothing if not considerate.
Luke's skin is flushed when Michael comes back, entering their room with Calum on his heels, with a cheery, "Morning, Lucas." Luke is wearing a fresh pair of boxers and no shirt, and nods at Michael in reply, not meeting his gaze.
"What's got you all flustered?" Calum wants to now, jumping onto Luke's bed. It's still as neatly made as it was when they got there, but Calum doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Not sharing a bed is what would be strange, in this band.
Luke's blush deepens, spreading down his exposed neck and chest. Michael's known that Luke is a full-body blusher since forever, and he finds himself wondering if it spreads even further, down to his cock, if the tip is all red when he's hard and dripping pre-come.
But Michael digresses.
Luke shrugs his shoulders, making out like he doesn't know what Calum's talking about. "'M fine," Michael wonders if he's already replaced his bed sheets with fresh ones.
Calum looks between Luke and Michael a few times.
"Why do you look like you've got some big secret?"
"You're some big secret," Luke mutters petulantly. Calum rolls his eyes.
"Really. What's up with you?"
"Michael, would you tell him?" Luke groans. Michael sighs.
"Everything's fine." Lie. "Luke's just being a weirdo, nothing new there," he assures him.
*
Luke is slowly but surely fucking Michael up and he's powerless to resist.
Every night for a week, Michael's awoken to Luke's breathless panting and pleading, his sinful mouth whining his name. Sometimes, he's rutting desperately against the bed-sheets until he gets off but other times, he lays still and comes completely untouched, just listening to the sound of Michael's voice telling him things he'd never say if he was awake.
Throughout the week, Luke avoids Michael's gaze, looking away whenever Michael looks at him, finding subtle ways to sit as far away from him as possible. Michael hasn't cuddled Luke is seven days and he's already suffering from withdrawal.
Michael feels bad. Worse than bad. He feels like the ultimate knob and he knows he should stop encouraging Luke to talk in his sleep, to talk about Michael in his sleep, to talk about getting fucked by Michael in his sleep. He knows this, and he knows that he definitely shouldn't respond when he talks, shouldn't push his hair out of his face so he can see his eyes squeeze closed a little tighter, his bottom lip quiver, his skin flush.
He absolutely should not tell Luke how much he does want him, how he loves how wrecked he looks when he's barely even touched him, and how much hotter he'll look if it was Michael getting him off as opposed to him doing it himself.
Michael is not helping Luke's predicament in the slightest and when Ashton figures out that there's something wrong, although he's not too sure what it is, he corners Michael and tells him they're switching rooms, which is how Michael ends up rooming with Calum.
He wakes up that night at exactly three-thirty in the morning, like his body has been conditioned. All he hears is Calum's mouth-breathing and the wind blowing noisily outside.
*
Luke walks into Michael's hotel room around noon the next day. They've got the day off, and Michael has just gotten out of bed. He's sitting at this table with a mirror just above it, fixing his hair. He doesn't turn around as Luke sidles in, just watches his reflection. His skin flushes a little as Michael catches his eye in the mirror.
"Hey," Luke says. His voice is quiet, subdued. Michael hates himself.
"Hi Hemmo," Michael greets him, smiling a little because the boy is literal sunshine. Luke sits heavily on Michael's bed.
"Met a fan on the way down here. I told her not to follow me but I'm pretty sure she saw me come in here, so like. Just thought you should know, in case she camps out outside your door or something."
Michael snorts. He knows Luke is stalling, trying to fill up the silence with chatter before he gets down to it and says what's really on his mind. It's just his thing, so Michael decides to humor him.
"She'll be there for a while, if she is. I don't plan on leaving this room today."
Luke smiles a little, then bites his lip, looking like he's deliberating. Michael drags the comb through his hair again, waiting.
"So, like," he begins, sitting Indian-style and looking down in his lap. "I've been having these- these dreams." Luke grits out eventually, voice thick with nervousness. He pauses again and sighs, "It's embarrassing, really."
"You can tell me anything, you know," Michael says. Luke looks up at the mirror, where Michael's staring at him earnestly, turning around and sitting on the other side of the bench so he's facing him.
"I know, I know, that's why I'm..." Luke pauses, runs a hand through his hair. "But it's still hard." He takes in a deep breath. "Not just normal dreams, like... Dirty ones." Luke's voice goes quiet and Michael notices that he's practically shaking, not daring to look Michael in the eye. Guilt sticks in Michael's throat and he has to swallow before saying anything.
"What are they about?" He asks, feeling like an ass for pretending like he doesn't know, like they're not his fault.
Luke shakes his head. "S'embarassing." He repeats. "You're gonna think I'm a freak."
"Already do,"Michael assures him. He watches as Luke's toes curl a little in his socked feet, like a nervous tic.
"They're about this guy." Luke says in a rush eventually, and Michael wants to grab him and scream why can't you tell me you're having wet dreams about me, I'm supposed to be your fucking best friend but he just nods, which isn't really the greatest reaction for Luke telling him he likes guys.
"What guy?" Michael asks.
"What is this, an interview?" Luke snaps. As soon as he's said the words, his expression softens and he shakes his head. "Sorry."
"S'fine, I just want to hel-"
"It's you. They're about you." Luke says, all in a rush before he can back out. "Every single fucking night and I can't- I can't make them stop and, it's fucking terrible because I like it and I'm- I'm fucking creaming myself in my sleep Michael, what- Just, what?"
"Luke," Michael says. Luke doesn't reply. His head is in his hands. Michael gets up and goes to sit on the bed in front of him, folding his legs, too. "Luke." He tries again, pulling Luke's hands away from his face.
"What?" He mutters dejectedly, looking up at him.
Michael doesn't say anything. Just finds himself leaning in and taking in Luke's wide-eyed expression as he gets closer, their lips brushing once they're close enough. Luke moans softly, lips parted, kissing Michael back hungrily. Michael sighs softly, kissing back because he's wanted this for such a long time it's like he's breathing after being underwater for too long.
Luke moves closer to Michael, and Michael sits back, letting Luke kneel between his legs. Luke's tongue slides wet against his, and there are these soft whimpers coming from his throat, like he's begging without words. Michael remembers Luke's dreams, knows that he likes to beg for it, that he gets off on it, and suddenly he's letting out a low groan.
Luke grinds against his thigh as Michael bites his lips, just where his lip-ring is, then licks the sting away. Michael's guilt is about to practically swallow him whole and no matter how much he tries to just not think about it, he can't.
"I knew." He sighs, pulling away from Luke reluctantly.
"You knew what?" Luke asks, confused.
Michael takes a deep breath, bracing himself. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"
Luke's eyebrows furrow, then his eyes widen, mouth falling open. "No. You-?" He pauses shaking his head, fists balled up by his sides, and all of a sudden, he's tackling Michael onto the bed, sitting on top of him, his expression murderous. "You fucking asshole, how could you?" Luke hisses.
"I didn't mean to! You were the one that was talking!" Michael realizes he's pathetic but his excuses are worth a shot.
Luke just lets out a sound close to a growl, letting his lips crash against Michael's. He works his hips against him, letting them rise and fall in time with Michael's grinding.
"And how long've you been listening?" He asks, kissing down Michael's jaw. Michael's chubbed up quite a bit and he's sure Luke can feel it, so he's a little breathless when he answers.
"L-like a week," he pants, keening as Luke presses the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants.
"Liar," He huffs, letting his teeth scrape against the skin below Michael's collarbone.
"O-or maybe more, I don't know," he says desperately, tipping his head back to allow Luke more access as he starts to suck a bruise into his neck.
"So there I was, freaking the fuck out about what you'd think of me if I told you about these dreams, and you knew the whole time?" Luke demands, hands still working at the hardening bulge of Michael's cock. Michael nods sheepishly.
"From what I heard, I'm great in the sack," He offers, lips lifting in a smirk. Luke shakes his head.
"You're awful." Luke says, cheeks blazing.
"In bed?"
"Just in general," He says, looking up at Michael as he starts to undo the button and zipper on his jeans.
"Luke..." Michael trails off. He was pretty sure they should talk or something. He wasn't sure; he was still reeling at the fact that Luke hadn't stormed away in disgust when Michael told him the truth, which must mean-
"You like that I was listening, don't you?"
"Not as much as you seem to," Luke shoots back, impatiently tugging Michael's jeans down to his knees. He straddles Michael's thighs, running his thumb over the bulge of Michael's dick. Michael groans loudly and Luke continues palming him through the thin cotton, eyes on Michael's face. "Did you like listening me get off on thinking about you?" he asks lowly.
Michael nods, breathing suddenly uneven. "Yeah, yes," he breathes. Luke bites his lip, tugging Michael's boxers down and freeing his cock. It slaps wetly against his stomach. Luke takes it in his hand, squeezing the base and pulling upwards as slow as he can.
"Mmm," Luke breathes as Michael's eyes slip closed, bucking helplessly into Luke's hand. Almost half a minute's gone by and Luke's just finished his first stroke and Michael is going to die. He should have known Luke wouldn't just let what Michael did go so easily. Apparently, he had alternative methods of revenge planned.
"Luke, more," Michael pleads as Luke shuffles down Michael's body, pulling his short off before leaning down so he's at the same level as Michael's cock. He just stares, thumb rubbing slowly up and down the shaft, pressing against the vein running along the underside. Michael hisses in pleasure, gripping the bed-sheets.
"Did you get off thinking about it, about me?" Luke wants to know, warm breath washing over Michael's length with every word. Michael jerks, back arching desperately towards Luke's mouth. Luke pulls away, waiting for an answer.
"Yes, fuck, yes," Michael groans. He's sweaty, needy and he just- "Th- thought about you on your back, on your- fuck," He pants as Luke licks a long stripe from his balls to his tip, pausing for him to continue. "On y-your knees, begging for my cock,"
Luke smiles, like a kid in a candy shop, wrapping his lips around Michael's angry red tip and sucking, tongue washing over the slit. Michael's head falls back against the sheets. He bucks his hips as Luke hums softly, hands suddenly in Luke's hair, pulling hard. Luke groans at the sensation and Michael wonders what he said, that first night, and renewed heat floods him.
"Tell me more," Luke says. "You got to hear all my dirty secrets, s'only fair I hear yours," and Michael can't really argue with that logic. Michael tends not to argue with people that are sucking his dick.
"Wanted you so fucking bad, came so many times thinking about your lips on my cock," He pants. Luke moans, taking more of Michael into his mouth. Michael fists his hair tighter. "Wanted to make you- ohhh, fuck," He breathes. "Wanted to make you come, make you moan,"
"Fuck," Luke pulls off of Michael, voice raspy, lips shining with spit and pre-come. "Did you say my name when you came?"
Michael's eyes squeeze shut and he takes a moment because this is Luke, the boy who sometimes finds it hard to string a full sentence together is saying these filthy things to him. "Christ," he groans.
"That's not my name." Luke says. Michael gives him a dry look, and Luke continues, "I like the sounds you make, though. Make more for me."
Luke's suddenly back at it, breathing steadily through his nose as he takes more and more of Michael into the warm, wet confines of his mouth. He takes in a long breath as Michael's hips thrust forwards a little, and his cock is suddenly hitting the back of his throat. Luke swallows around him and Michael's body jerks.
"Luke, Oh- hoooo, fuck," He pants. "Fuck, Luke, I- I really like you and I just- I just never knew how to tell you, I'm really shit with feelings, fuck please don't stop," Michael's nearly sobbing as Luke pulls off of him, gasping for air.
Luke jerks him off, fists moving quickly over his dick, to pacify him. He beams up at Michael. "I like you too."
"Great," Michael pants, "now can you please get back to whatever magic you were working on my dick just there?" He pleads. Luke shakes his head, hand slowing down in the same instant and Michael wants to cry.
"I wanna ride you," he says, voice quiet, "S'that okay?"
Michael wants to ask Luke what the hell made him think for a second that wouldn't be okay, but bites his tongue. "More than okay," Michael assures him. He tugs on Luke's hair again, pulling him up by it. Luke moans softly, coming up to kiss Michael's lips. "You can't ever say that you hate me again, Lukey. I know things. Like how fucking filthy you are, Jesus."
Luke giggles against Michael's lips. Michael unbuttons Luke's jeans, rubbing a hand against his crotch as he pulls them off. "M-Mikey," he whines.
"What's wrong, Luke?" Michael smirks, leaving open-mouthed kisses along Luke's neck.
"Wanna ride your cock, Michael, please, s'gonna feel so good," He pants, kicking his jeans off as Michael pulls his boxers down to join them.
"'Baby of the band' my ass," Michael mumbles, taking Luke's cock in his fist, spreading pre-come over his shaft. Luke goes weak on top of him, whimpering softly. Michael moves his hands to Luke's hips, trying to roll him onto his back, but Luke just clings to him, shaking his head.
"Stop teasing," Luke pants. Michael huffs because if anyone's a tease here, it's Luke.
"Gotta stretch you out, baby," Michael says, lips at his ear. Luke shivers, rolling off Michael and laying on his back. Michael leans out of the bed, pulling the drawer next to it open and grabbing his lube. He pops it open and coats his fingers before sitting between Luke's legs and spreading them. He presses a finger against Luke's pink hole. They both moan as it sinks in slowly. Michael curls it a little, feeling Luke's velvety walls.
"Michael," Luke moans his name reverently, like it's a prayer. "I want you so fucking badly, fuck,"
Michael lets another finger join the first. Luke arches his back, clawing desperately at the sheets.
"Yeah, Lukey? Just me?"
Luke nods, mouth agape. "J-just you, Mikey, "
"S'that why you let Calum put his hands all over you, hm?" He asks, adding a third finger, making Luke curse loudly. "You don't want him to fuck you, make you scream his name?"
"No, n-never," he groans, hips bucking, chest heaving. Michael watches Luke's face closely as he curls his fingers, stroking and searching. He knows when he's found it. Luke's back arches, breath leaving him. "F-fuck, Mikey, Michael, just there, right there," He moans, voice breaking.
Michael pulls his fingers out of the younger boy in the same instant, leaving Luke humping the air. He puts his fingers to Luke's chin, tilting it upwards so he can kiss him, rolling them over again so Luke's on top. The kiss is slow and heated, contrasting to the desperate movement of their hips against each other's.
Luke reaches behind himself, takes Michael's cock in his hand and strokes once, twice, before guiding it in. Luke sinks down slow, mewls escaping Luke's mouth as Michael's enveloped inch by inch, Luke's tight heat pulling him in. Michael's hips buck as Luke's hands settle on Michael's chest, moving his hips a little.
"Fuck," He breathes shakily. "I can feel you so fucking deep." he groans, raising a hand and brushing it over the slight swell of his tummy. Michael curses at that, throwing a hand over his face.
"Jesus, Luke," Michael breathes, voice strained as Luke raises himself up, just a little, using his hands on Michael's chest to balance himself, before sinking back down so a low whine.
Luke looks down at Michael. "Yeah?" Luke says thickly, "Want me to fuck myself on your cock? Make me bounce on your dick like you want?"
"Don't-" Michael groans as Luke rotates his hips, the smug smirk on his face telling him that he's doing this on purpose, so he won't get any backtalk. "Don't act like this isn't what you've been dreaming of. Literally."
Luke's eyes slide closed and he bites his lip, nodding. Michael knows it's hard for him too, making himself wait when he was so desperate just seconds ago. Luke caves eventually, raising his hips, almost all the way off, then lets them back down again, starting to ride him properly.
Michael's hooded eyes move from Luke's blissed-out face to where their bodies are connected, watching his cock dissapear inside Luke over and over.
"Better than my dreams," Luke pants, "so much better, then can't even compare, could never have imagined-" He breaks off, whimpering as Michael grabs hold of his hips, helping him move, rotating his hips, trying to find the right angle.
"Feel so good on my cock, baby, so fucking tight," Michael groans. Luke whines, breath catching in his throat as Michael brushes against his prostate.
"Fuck, there," he gasps as Michael stays with it, the constant pressure slowly driving him crazy.
"Yeah, baby? Did I hit it?"
"Yeah," Luke moans "yeah, yeah, yeah,"
Michael squeezes Luke's waist a little tighter, a tell-tale sign. Luke grabs Michael's hands, forcing them back and pinning them against the bed, leaning over Michael's body. Michael can't think of anything to say, his mind completely blank as he thrusts his hips desperately up into Luke.
Luke's cock isn't being touched, just rubbing up against Michael's tummy, but it's enough. He feels his own stomach tighten and lets out an obscene groan.
"'M gonna come so fucking hard, Mikey," He says quietly, like it's a secret. Michael lips find his, kissing him roughly as the rise and fall of Luke's hips become erratic until he's barely bottoming out, both of them chasing their orgasms desperately.
"Come, Luke, come for me," he pants. Luke shudders, hot stripes coating Michael's stomach. Michael's hips buck at the pulsing around his cock, coming with a moan of Luke's name.
Luke sighs, laying down on top of Michael. Michael kisses the top of his head.
"You need to move for a sec," he murmurs against Luke's hair.
"No," Luke whines. "Why?"
"For one, my dick's still inside you." Michael mutters.
"I don't care. S'kind of hot."
You're not gonna be saying that when Calum comes back in here eventually and starts screaming about the jizz stains on the bed. You know how he is about come on bedding."
"Prude," Luke mutters, raising his hips, wincing a little as he does so.
Michael pulls him in close and Luke settles with his head on Michael's chest.
"What you said earlier," Luke starts, "did you mean it? Or was it just, like, a heat of the moment thing?"
"I said a lot of things," Michael mutters. "Most of them really shouldn't be repeated outside of sex, though,"
Luke pauses. "When you said you liked me," He says softly.
Michael holds him even tighter. "Except that." He promises, feeling Luke relax against him. "That can be repeated as much as you want,"