RED [BXB]

FOURTEEN

Luke chuckled nostalgically, his eyes glazed over as his mind danced with images of Mason's toned body against his. He gazed back over at her, his signature smile adorning his young features. Zoya, herself, couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of it.

"It's...different," he settled finally, his fingers drumming against his chin.

Zoya pondered for a second, turning the answer over in her brain. Now that she'd gotten a response from him, her hesitation had faded—albeit slightly. "Does he have you? Or is it the other way around?"

Luke's eyebrows shot up, lips spreading into a smirk. "It doesn't really matter, does it?."

She nodded, feeling dejected. "If you like being taken... I can... Y'know, I don't mind... If that's what you want."

Luke stared at her incredulously, then burst into a fit of laughter. Zoya laughed along with him, knowing full-well she was the punchline.

"Hey, stop worrying so much," he cooed, leaning closer towards her. She reached out and touched his face, just to make sure he was real, just to make sure he was actually with her and this wasn't another one of her lucid dreams. "It's perfect with you."

Then he kissed her, and she desperately clung to his lips, desperately clung to his words, his skin, his smell, his hair. It's perfect. She was perfect. Nobody else could compare. Because he loved her. He was never going to leave her. It's perfect.

Then he detached his body from hers and began to get dressed. She knew he'd already given her enough of his time for the day, but she couldn't help the pang of disappointment in her chest. She was greedy for his affection and attention.

"Are you going to see him?" she asked, sitting up and—deliberately—exposing her naked chest.

Luke looked back at her and smiled ominously. Then he left.

***

Mason was shirtless, stretched out on his bed with a textbook in hand. He had been trying, for the past half-hour, to complete his assignment, but it was to no avail. The room felt stuffy, and the letters and numbers seemed to leave the pages all together and whirl in a dizzying spin around his head.

He was about ready to call it a day and head to the showers, when the door opened, and in walked his—artificially—red-headed roommate (fuck buddy?) with a dazed smile. Luke halted in his step, his eyes hungrily taking in the toned body being flaunted right in front of him.

"Well, isn't that nice?" he began, inching slowly closer towards the bottom bunk. "You brought me dinner."

Mason rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. He pretended to still be busy with the textbook, refusing to pay any attention to the boy who'd lain down next to him—a little too close to be considered friendly.

"Weren't you just with what's-her-face?" Mason asked, somewhat bitterly. "Haven't you had enough for the day?"

Luke scoffed, his breath hot against Mason's neck as he stuck his tongue out and licked a stripe up Mason's collarbone all the way to the bottom of his jaw. The boy's breath caught in his throat. Luke leaned up on his knees, his lips brushing against Mason's neck as he whispered seductively,

"I've had nothing if I haven't had you."

Mason turned to look at him, and it didn't take longer than a second of intense eye contact for their lips to be connected in a heated kiss. His fingers tangled into Luke's hair, and he tugged hard enough for Luke to pull away from him, gasping.

His tongue was hot against Luke's neck, his jaw, his collarbone, his stomach, anywhere he could reach. Luke could hardly keep up as Mason devoured him, sucking and biting at any piece of exposed flesh he could see.

Luke laughed as Mason undid his own belt, Zoya's words echoing in his memory.

How could anything ever top this?

"Something funny?" Mason questioned, voice hoarse as he glanced up at him with hooded eyes.

Luke shook his head, a dreamy smile on his face as he swatted Mason's fingers away and pushed the pants down the boy's thighs.

Wasting no time, he took Mason in his mouth, loving the primal groan that sounded from the back of his throat.

The room filled with lewd noises, with groans and grunts and whispered names falling off of swollen lips.

When Mason turned Luke on his stomach and raised him on his knees, the smaller boy protested, stubbornly shifting to lie on his back. Mason raised a questioning eyebrow, ready to flip him over again, when Luke gripped his hands to stop him.

"I don't wanna do it on my knees," he whined, flashing wide, puppy-eyes at Mason.

He rolled his eyes. "Stop being a little bitch. We always do it like this."

Luke struggled against the hands that had—yet again—grabbed his waist. "Mason, please."

"Why not? It hurts less like this," he argued.

Luke averted his eyes, voice small as he mumbled, "I wanna look at you."

Mason halted, and there were no more protests after that. This time, instead of slamming Luke's head against the pillow to silence his moans, Mason swallowed every last one into his mouth. This time, instead of dumping the condom and leaving, Mason scooped Luke up into his arms and cradled him to sleep afterwards.