A Better Fūck than Any Boy You'll Ever Meet

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It's only been two days since the kiss, and Luke's starting to panic. Michael hasn't spoken much, barely more than usual, won't look him in the eye, hasn't mentioned the kiss at all in the few interactions they've had. Not that it's been out of the ordinary lately to be so avoidant, but Luke's stuck in the dark again. At least when they kissed, he felt some connection to Michael. Past the physical.

And of course, it's got Luke worrying again about Michael's intentions, and maybe whether Michael was really thinking straight at all. Straight, of course, being rather vaguely defined in the context.

Maybe if Michael wasn't Michael, and Luke was sure he wanted the same thing, and if he wasn't so afraid that it was all a joke on Luke's behalf, Luke might have told Ashton about the kiss. He would have been so excited to tell Ashton about his first kiss with a guy. His first kiss with Michael. His first kiss that meant anything at all. But he holds back.

He's dreading tonight, because Calum went back home to help his sister move for a couple of days ("It'll be boring, I promise you don't want to come, Luke.") and Ashton goes to spend a night with his siblings ("Of course you don't want to come, for heaven's sake, they're a pain in the ass." [said lovingly, of course]). And to be fair, Luke didn't really want to go with either, but he didn't want to be home alone with Michael, because he knows the silence will set in and it'll be a painful night.

As Ashton's car pulls out of the driveway, leaving Luke standing in the doorway, Luke wonders if Michael's going to avoid him all night. If he does, it won't be a surprise. He ignores Luke most of the time lately, anyway. Luke thinks sometimes if he wasn't so goddamn in love with the boy, neither of them would notice if the other simply disappeared.

---

Michael flips a pancake in the kitchen, teeth caught on his lower lip as he tries to flip it over neatly. Luke pauses in the hallway, watching him. Michael doesn't see him, keeps at the pancake flipping. Luke wishes his infatuation could blind him to all of Michael's faults, but he's pretty damn sure Michael's terrible at making pancakes. Mostly from the smell, and a little from the cursing.

As Luke enters the kitchen, a wave of heat rolls over him. He wrinkles his nose. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes," Michael says. "Can't you tell?"

"From the burning smell and blackened lumps?" Luke says, teasing slightly. "Uh, no."

"Oh, shut up. It's not that bad. If you scrape off the burnt parts it actually tastes pretty good."

"Smothered in nutella, maybe," Luke suggests. "It's so hot in here."

"That's because the stove's on, dumbass," Michael says, smirking at him. "But I could make it hotter."

Luke's not used to flirting and he's not used to being flirted at, but he's pretty sure this qualifies as the latter, and that he's meant to return the favor.

"You're so cliche," Luke mumbles, and wants to kick himself. How lame could he possibly be? He should have said something witty, or sarcastic, or anything Michael would be able to think of fast.

"But you know it's true," Michael says, turning away from the stove as he switches it off and moving towards Luke with a corner of his mouth turned up. "Don't you?"

"N-no," Luke stutters, flushing hot, wishing he didn't sound so uncertain. Anybody else would have been able to say it boldly, seductively, any of the things Luke's pretty sure he's not.

"I can prove it to you," Michael says, pinning Luke against the wall, closecloseclose and Luke might pass out. He can see Michael's eyes all dilated, expects his own are the same.

"Ashton and Calum," Luke starts.

"Aren't here for tonight," Michael says, smiling a little dizzily. "Come on, Luke."

Luke's feeling dizzy himself, light on his feet, and god, does he want this, but he wants to believe he isn't as easy as he seems. When Michael's fingers tease over the waistband of his jeans, he breathes out, "Wait. Michael, wait, I--"

Michael freezes, but doesn't take his hands off Luke. "Scared?" he baits Luke.

"No," Luke denies, almost embarrassed. "I just, are you sure we should--"

"It's now or never," Michael says. "I won't if you don't want me to. But I really want to." Michael's weight is pressed against Luke and Luke can feel everything.

"Yeah," Luke breathes and his head tilts back as he lets Michael's mouth move to his neck. "Yeah, I want to."

"Have you ever?" Michael asks.

"No," Luke gasps. "Not, not with a guy, I have once before, but never with--have you?"

"Couple times," Michael whispers. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom?"

"Unless you want it to happen here in the kitchen, because Ashton will throw a fit if he finds out--"

"Oh. Oh," Luke says, so shaky and breathless. "Yeah." He's nervous, hates that, knows Michael can tell, knows Michael practically feeds off it. He needs Michael to stop talking or he's going to lose it.

"'S what I thought," Michael says, and yanks Luke down the hall.

Michael pushes Luke onto the bed, hands all over. Luke's shirt gets pulled off somewhere in the frenzy of hands, and his jeans tugged over his hips too, although he definitely notices that one. Michael manages to lose his clothes too, and Luke's not sure exactly what's happening, only that Michael's in control of the whole situation. It's unfair, really, feeling like a 15-year-old virgin again, like his first time on repeat. It's hard to think with Michael's mouth everywhere.

Michael himself can barely hear the little sounds Luke's making over the blood rushing through his ears, and he moves with mechanical precision and calculation, while Luke melts under him at a single touch.

It's so goddamn unfair, Michael with his hot hands running all over Luke and sliding clothing off until Luke's cold in the air conditioned room, and burning hotter and more embarrassed every second.

"Please, hurry," Luke says, unable to disguise the neediness, unable to take it any more, pulling at Michael's hair when he goes in for another kiss. "Just hurry, please."

"I know," Michael says, poised over Luke, and it's the most gentle he's sounded all night. "Will you still love me after?"

"Always," Luke whispers.

Michael goes in for the kill, and Luke shuts his eyes tight and lets it happen.

---

(A/N) bet y'all didn't see this coming

anyway so I meant to make this longer but I'm splitting it into two parts because my bedtime's in six minutes and I don't have time yee

and also this is the hottest song I know and I suck at writing almost smut I'm sorry I know please don't hate me I didn't have time to make it better or more detailed just pretend it's brief and vague bc neither boy is thinking straight I hate myself oh god

I had to unpublish this bc people couldn't see it so imma try again and hope it works

anyway gotta go, no midweek update planned but I will definitely see you next week if all fails okay thanks frands bye xx

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