Calum and Luke arrived home half an hour after they left. Calum held the door for Luke and they stepped in and Luke suddenly released a squeal.
"What?" Calum said.
"I'm just excited! I know I've said it fifty times on the way home but I can't believe we finally found them. Michael was really nice and Ashton seems cool too. It's crazy I've been here for so long and it took me this long to find any of you."
Calum just nodded. "They seemed all right, didn't they."
"Yeah. I think Michael and I are already friends maybe." He kicked off his shoes by the door.
Calum looked at him and didn't say anything.
Luke briefly thought of when Calum had said that putting the bottle in the coffee table drawer was a good idea. He thought about how Calum said they had to go home because he had something planned. Was it...? He cleared his throat a little. "Didn't you think when—"
"Let's talk more after we get dinner started."
"Dinner?" Oh. Okay. He really liked cooking with Calum so...okay.
"Mhm."
"It's only just after three."
"Yes, but our soup simmers for two hours."
"Ooh. What kind?"
"Beef and vegetable."
"Yay! Chopping."
Calum did his little smile. "And we're baking our own bread, too."
Luke grinned. "Really? Like from scratch?"
Calum nodded.
"I've never ever done that before."
"Well, we're not grinding our own wheat but."
Luke bounced on his toes. "No, that's fine. We get to knead the dough and stuff."
"Want to start now?"
Luke nodded. They went into the kitchen.
Another half hour later and all their carrots and celery and onions and peppers and potatoes and beef were minced and chopped and sliced thin and put into the pot with stock and seasoning and a little tomato juice and set to simmer. Luke was amazed that he hadn't cut himself, and he'd only spilled twice, flushing red both times and insisting he clean up, and then doing a terrible job of it and being followed by Calum with a towel and cleaner. They scraped their cutting boards and washed their knives, and cleaned everything to the point that the kitchen looked like they hadn't even touched it yet, save for the one pot on the stove.
"Very nice," Luke said, looking around, and put his hands on his hips.
Calum agreed with a nod. "Bread time."
"Yesss." Luke's mind and body had the sudden urge to step over and kiss Calum again. But with what happened before they talked to Michael and Ashton, the little sort-of-argument they had, he wasn't so sure that was a good idea. And when he'd nearly cried and said that he wished Calum liked him, Calum hadn't really made him feel any better. But why was he thinking about it? It only brought him down. No. He was having a good time right now and he wasn't going to let his own thoughts ruin it. "What can I do to start?"
"Sugar, yeast, flour—new bag—in the pantry."
"Gotcha." He went over and found the three ingredients and brought them back to the counter where Calum had somehow already set up all the bowls and measuring tools they would need. "Dang. You're so fast."
Calum pulled out a tub of thick, greasy looking stuff too white to be butter from way back in his fridge.
"What is that?" Luke asked, grimacing.
"Lard."
Luke made a face. "Oh...ew."
"Gives it the flaky golden crust."
"Oh...yum?"
Calum glanced at him and might have smiled again. "Get three tablespoons."
Luke nodded and cut three tablespoons of the lard and tapped it into the bowl where Calum was measuring the sugar, salt, and flour.
"Two and a half cups of water," Calum instructed.
Luke got it and poured it in.
"Okay. This is the most important part." Calum held up the bottle of yeast. "This has to be so exact or else we're gonna end up with flat bread."
Luke nodded. "I can do it."
"You can't overmeasure like you did with the brown sugar for the pancakes."
Luke smiled and blushed a little. "I promise."
"Okay. We need a quarter ounce. See that little measuring cup? Looks like a shot glass? That's for ounce measurements."
Luke searched around and found it. "Okay. I see. Don't worry. I can do it."
"I trust you."
Luke stared at him, thinking about that, as he took the yeast from his fingers. He poured slowly, praying he didn't do this wrong because he did not want to disappoint Calum. He stopped pouring, tapped the bottle once, and then held the glass up level to his eyes. "I...think this is good. Check?" He held it up for Calum.
Calum nodded. "Good."
Luke felt a rush of useless pride. It was yeast, for Christ's sake. He poured it into the bowl. "Can I mix it?"
"It's going to be really hard."
"Well I can—"
"Actually, I have another job for you. I usually do this myself but I think you'll like it."
Luke was interested. "What?"
"I need you to dust this whole section of countertop with flour."
Luke's eyes widened. "Like when they throw it sideways in the TV shows?"
"Mhm."
Luke grinned. "I'm gonna make such a mess."
"I know you are. It's all right. Have fun with it."
Luke tapped his fingers together. "Oh, I will."
Calum started folding the ingredients together in the bowl while Luke plunged his hand into the flour bag. He turned sideways a little and put his hand out, then flicked it forward. The flour puffed out and settled in a weird spray onto the countertop. He giggled, looking down at it. "That did not work as well as I thought." He looked over to see Calum staring deadpan at him. And he saw that he'd gotten flour all over Calum's left arm. "Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry."
Calum just shook his head and kept stirring. "It's fine. Try again. It gets easier."
Luke let out his breath. "Sorry," he said again, and couldn't help but laugh a little more. He did it a few more times and on the last try it arced perfectly across the counter and covered it evenly the whole way.
He put the bag of flour down and dusted his hands and then looked over at Calum. Calum's hands were in the bowl where the loose ingredients had finally turned into dough. Calum dug in and kneaded and squeezed and the muscles in his arms were tensing with every movement. Luke found that appealing every single time he saw it, and he was glad Calum hadn't let him do that. He was glad he was getting to watch instead. And he figured Calum knew he was staring and was letting him. That was fine. He didn't mind one bit.
After a few more seconds Calum said, "Okay, it's ready for the counter." He took the slightly sticky ball of dough out from the bowl and set it in Luke's flour dust. "You want to do some?"
"How do I?"
Calum shifted on his feet a little and Luke hoped so badly that Calum would do the thing where he'd stand behind him and wrap his arms around him and take Luke's hands under his own and guide him. And then maybe they'd forget about the bread altogether and Calum would press his lips to his neck and bring his hand down a little lower and squeeze something else, leaving a blurry whitish handprint in flour on Luke's black jeans.
But Calum just kicked one foot in front of the other and leaned against the counter facing him. "Just start off by rolling it so it gets coated and isn't so sticky."
"All right." Luke tentatively stuck his hands in the dough and pushed, rolling the dough forward. After a few pushes, it was covered with a fine layer of flour and his hands stopped sticking.
"Okay," Calum said. "Now just push down with the heels of your hands and aerate a little bit."
Luke pushed his hands in.
"Harder," Calum said.
Luke sighed out shakily and put his shoulders into it.
"There you go. Good."
Luke was trembling now. Just because of what Calum was saying. Because in his mind he was becoming a total pervert. He kept kneading the dough until Calum told him it was done. Luke took his hands away and tried to hide the shake. Calum put the dough in a bread pan and slid it in the oven, setting it for forty minutes. He turned back around and brushed his hands off and looked at Luke.
"Good. Now we wait."
"The kitchen is starting to smell so good," Luke said.
Calum nodded and pointed his finger. "Edge of the counter over there?"
Luke looked at it—the section of counter that was set lower than the rest, with the sink and the drainer set in the middle but with an open five-foot-long space that was now topped in part by a fine layer of flour dust. "Yeah?"
"Go sit."
Luke swallowed. "Why?"
"Go sit on the edge of the counter."
"But there's flour on it."
"You can get a shower."
"No but Calum it'll get on my..." He trailed off. He was about to say that the flour was going to get on his clothes but then he realized why that wouldn't be a problem. The clothes wouldn't be on for long.
Calum saw the understanding on his face and nodded.
Luke licked his lips and chewed his ring as he went over to the edge of the counter and hoisted himself up. His mind flashed back to the day he'd come here to move in, not all that long ago really. The time when he'd said he liked Calum's marble countertops and Calum had said how interesting that was. Maybe he'd known this was coming for a while, way back in his subconscious. He crossed his ankles and folded his hands in his lap, swinging his legs.
Calum walked over and stood in front of him. Luke noticed how Calum's height and the lower set of the counter made it so that Calum's hips aligned perfectly with his. How convenient.
Calum said, "Give me your shirt."
Luke wasn't going to protest, both because he knew it wouldn't do any good and because he didn't even want to. He wanted this. He pulled his shirt over his head and gave it to Calum. Calum folded it and laid it neatly on the counter behind him. Then his hands went to the button of Luke's jeans and undid them.
"Lift up your hips."
Luke did, and Calum pulled everything off him. Calum put his hands on Luke's knees and spread them apart and said, "Lay back."
Luke sighed quietly as he lowered himself back onto the counter. He knew the flour would get all over him and up in his hair but he didn't actually care.
And then Calum's hands were on him. His left hand was scratching down Luke's chest while his right hand wrapped around Luke's dick and squeezed downward once. Luke made a small moan and let his head fall to the side as he got hard. He wanted Calum to lean forward and plant kisses all over his body, but he was pretty sure Calum wasn't going to do that. But then he thought that maybe Calum was going to take him in his mouth and he started to get really hard. Calum moved his hand up and down him again and Luke started to breathe heavier. "Calum..."
Calum took his hand away and Luke sat up a little. He saw Calum pull out a tiny bottle of lube from his back pocket.
"Calum, where did you..." He thought for a moment that Calum took the one from the drawer in Michael and Ashton's house, but that wasn't possible. It didn't look the same anyway. No, of course Calum had just been planning this all day. He always had everything planned. And apparently he wasn't going to use his mouth. Apparently they were just going to get right to it.
Calum set the bottle on the counter with an audible click between Luke's legs and started to pull his own pants off. "Luke."
"Yeah?"
"Do you want me to fuck you?"
Luke went red down to his chest. "Yes."
Calum pulled everything down and kicked it away. Luke stared briefly, wondering again what genes Calum had that gave him that.
"Do you want me to prep you?"
Luke wanted to say no, just get inside me. But he knew that was probably a bad idea because once Calum—all of Calum—was in, he figured there was no going slow like last night and no stopping until it was over. So he said, "Yes."
Calum nodded. He reached for the bottle but before he took it Luke said, "Aren't you going to take off your shirt?"
"No."
Luke tried to put on a sad face, even though all he was feeling right now was the ache in his balls and the want for Calum to be in him again. "Please?"
Calum sighed. And he pulled his shirt over his head from the back of his neck and was fully naked.
"Thank you," Luke whispered, gazing up at Calum's amazing body again.
And then Calum had the bottle in his hands and was squeezing some into his palm. He covered two fingers of his right hand and brought them between Luke's legs. He pushed the tip of one finger in, and Luke held his breath.
"Relax," Calum said. And he slid his finger in the rest of the way as Luke sighed his breath out and closed his eyes. Calum moved his finger in and out a few times before adding the other, and Luke shifted a little on the counter, the flour making it so his skin didn't stick.
"Ohh..."
Calum pushed and pulled his fingers, opening them a little and bending them a little, until Luke looked comfortable. Until Luke started to shake. And then he drew them out and started to coat himself and he said, "Say it again."
Luke breathed heavily and looked into Calum's dark, half-lidded eyes. "I want you to fuck me." Calum tilted his head. Luke took a deep breath and said, "Please."
Calum reached forward and grabbed his hips and pulled, sliding him all the way to the edge of the counter. The flour under Luke's back made a soft hissing sound as he moved along the marble. Calum reached down and positioned himself at Luke's entrance and then pushed in a little faster than Luke could handle.
Luke let out a bit of a pained moan and his muscles tensed. He held the edge of the counter down by his hips and he knew what was about to happen.
And it did. Calum pulled back and started thrusting, all the way in every time. He gripped Luke's hips in his hands and pushed, sinking completely into Luke and pulling over halfway out before shoving in again.
Luke clenched his teeth for the first few hard thrusts as pain spread out from between his legs. But then it all melted away and Calum thick inside him was nothing but pure pleasure. He moaned again, and Calum slid his hands down to hold Luke's thighs like he had when Luke was riding him. Luke loved the way Calum's slick hands wrapped around his thighs and squeezed, pressing his fingertips into his skin. And then Calum's hands circled further down under Luke's thighs and pulled again, and Luke's ass hung slightly off the edge of the counter as Calum continued to thrust.
Luke was straining, leaking, releasing little uhs, couldn't close his mouth. "Calum. Fff... Calum, please. Touch me."
Calum thrust extra hard and Luke shouted up to the ceiling as Calum said, "No."
Luke whined and brought a hand up to himself but Calum pulled it away. He said evenly, like he was telling Luke the time of day, "No, Luke. You're going to come just from me inside you. Do it."
Luke whined again and tried to sit up but was too weak. Calum was thrusting deep into him and the shocks it sent up his spine were dazzling. He was aching low in his stomach and he wanted to come so badly but he needed something more.
But then Calum scratched down the sides of his thighs and raised up onto his toes just a little bit and it changed the angle and he hit Luke's prostate right on.
"Ah. C—" Luke's knuckles were white on the edge of the counter and he wrapped his legs around Calum's hips, locking his ankles together. "Calum, do—" He gasped as he tried to tell Calum to do it again but Calum already was. Calum hit him in just the spot over and over again and Luke did come. He moaned and spilled onto his chest and a bit onto the counter while Calum gripped his upper thighs and pushed all the way into him.
And pretty soon Calum was coming too and Luke lifted his head and could see Calum's come spreading all over his cock as he made his final pushes and pulls in and out of Luke, spilling into him.
Luke sighed and leaned his head back, thunking it against the counter. He finally let go of the edge and let his arms splay out beside him, one dangling off the side. Calum finished and pulled out of him. His messy dick hung down between his legs and Luke sat fully up and saw it and looked away. Calum put his hands on his own hips and sighed, catching his breath.
"Calum," Luke said. "You're amazing."
Calum licked his lips.
Luke leaned forward and tilted his head up and kissed Calum's chin. Calum stepped back from him.
Calum opened his mouth, paused, said, "I'm getting a shower."
Luke stared up at him. He said quietly, "Will you kiss me?"
Calum swallowed hard and Luke didn't know if it was because of the breathing during sex or because of what he'd just said.
"I'm showering." And he walked to the bathroom.
Luke watched him go and then lay slowly back onto the counter again. Why did he let Calum do this to him? Why did he let Calum ravish him until he could barely breathe and barely think but then let him just walk away? Well, because Calum had all the power, all the control. There was really nothing Luke could do about it because if he tried then Calum would only get mad. And if Calum got mad then maybe Calum wouldn't want to use him anymore. Luke wanted him to. Not to use him, but to be with him. But at this point using was all he was going to get.
Mentally, emotionally? It sucked. But at the same time it felt physically so good. So he had to just deal with it. Maybe later he could get Calum to kiss him again. Maybe if he was sweet and good and didn't do anything wrong or stupid then maybe Calum would reward him. He wondered if that was the kind of system Calum was running now, if Luke was just another of Pavlov's dogs listening for a bell to come get food. To come get affection.
He heard the water turn on in the bathroom. He wondered if maybe Calum would let him go in with him. He doubted it highly, but he wouldn't know unless he asked. He really wanted to have a shower with Calum.
He got up and attempted to look at his own back to see the flour there but of course he couldn't see it. He brought his hand to the back of his head and tussled it through his hair. He looked at his palm and it had white on it, a little clumped together from sweat.
He really did need a shower. A lot more than Calum did. Calum was clean save for between his legs and that bit on his arm but Luke was white all over his upper body, albeit from different things.
All right. He was just going to go in. He walked over to the bathroom.
The door was closed. He heard the water running and the click of a shampoo bottle cap. He turned the handle and stepped quietly into the light steam shrouding the pristine grey-tiled Armani bathroom. He could see the blurred outline of Calum's body behind the fogged frosted glass. He was facing away, had his arms up by his head scrubbing his hair. Luke thought that with that image and enough willpower he could come again right then.
"Calum?"
Calum jumped just a little and turned around halfway, not facing Luke straight on. There was a pause before he said, "Luke, what are you doing?"
"I've got flour and...I'm messy and I wanted to—"
"Luke, get out."
Luke put a hand on the sink behind him to steady himself. "What?"
"Leave."
"But, Calum, I—"
"Go."
Luke could see Calum's arms down by his sides, hands curling inward upon themselves, forming fists.
Luke's lip trembled. He started to back away and whispered, "Stop hurting me."
Calum didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't hear.
Luke left the bathroom.
He ran into the bedroom and was about to throw himself down onto the bed to wallow when he remembered he was a complete mess. He couldn't get on the white sheets with all this on him. Calum would kill him.
Calum was already killing him.
He stood in the middle of the floor and put his face in his hands. He knew he was probably going to cry. He'd been needing to ever since they were standing on the road in Luxure. But he didn't want to. Calum didn't deserve his tears right now. He bit down on his hand, the fleshy part at the base of his thumb, as hard as he could. It was a mute pain—dull and thick and surface. But it was enough. He pulled his hand away and looked at the teeth marks and then just let his arm fall to the side. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror that leaned against the wall. He looked away, down at the floor.
He stood there, naked, filthy, ashamed, alone, waiting.
Eventually the water turned off and he heard Calum moving around. He crossed his hands in front of himself and put his head down and moved off to the side of the room and waited for Calum to come in. Calum did, and Luke went quickly out, not looking up at Calum for fear of...something.
He got his shower. He didn't cry.
He dried off and went back to the bedroom. He saw Calum wasn't there. He didn't cry.
He dressed in clothes that covered every inch of his body—even socks—so that only his hands and his face were exposed. He even pulled his sweater down over his hands and held the sleeves there. He didn't cry.
He took a deep breath and went out to the living room and Calum was there on the couch, pulling out his lighter. Luke looked over and saw the counters were clean, then turned back to Calum.
Luke wasn't sure he wanted to go sit next to Calum anymore. All at once, he wanted it to be Michael and Ashton sitting there. He knew he'd just met them but they seemed really nice. He wanted to talk and laugh with them and he wanted Michael to push him on the shoulder like he did before. He wanted someone to act like they wanted him to be around them. The others, especially Michael, already made him feel that way. But Calum...
He went over and sat down across from Calum on the couch, facing him, cross-legged, slumping forward and putting his sweater paw up under his chin.
"I want to apologize," Calum said, mumbling a bit because of the cigarette between his lips. He lit it and closed his lighter with a metallic clink, put it back in his pocket.
Luke played with the suede on the couch again. He sniffed. "Do you."
"Yes."
"Okay."
Calum nodded and leaned back and crossed a leg over his knee, breathing out smoke.
"Well?" Luke said.
Calum looked over at him. "Well what?"
Luke's hand flopped to the couch. "Do it then. Apologize."
Calum shook his head at him and faced forward. "I just did."
Luke's face screwed up. "No you didn't. What's wrong with you?"
"Excuse me?" Calum raised an eyebrow at him.
"You're supposed to say you're sorry."
Calum gazed over at him for what felt like a really long time. Then he looked away again and took a drag. "For telling you to go, I apologize."
"But you're not sorry."
"I am."
"Then say it."
Calum didn't.
Luke sat up a little straighter and stared over at the side of Calum's head. "Maybe this was a mistake."
"What?"
"Coming here."
Calum held his cigarette down by his knee and turned fully to face Luke. "Was it?"
Luke felt himself heating up. Not in an angry way—in a way like he was about to vomit all his emotions out of his mouth and make a fool out of himself. He took a deep breath and held them back. "I don't know. I don't think this is working the way it's supposed to work."
"How's that?"
Luke looked down at his feet. "I don't know, Calum. You don't think that maybe you're being a little..." He shrugged and picked at his fingernails.
"Do you want me to hold you tonight?"
Luke tingled all over his body. Yes, of course he wanted that. He'd been wanting Calum to really hold him this whole time. But he didn't want to let this whole thing go so easily. He needed to be stern and assertive and he knew that wasn't him. That's not how he was with people. Especially Calum. Calum was still scary and unknown to him. But...also good? And sometimes nice? And how could he refuse what he'd just been offered? "I..." Want you to be kind to me. Want you to stay with me after we have sex. Want you to kiss me in the morning and hug me out of nowhere. You've never let me hug you. Michael has let me hug him. "Yes. I do."
"Then I will," Calum said. And Calum looked at him like that was the end of that little conversation Luke was trying to start. Maybe it was better that way.
They sat in silence for three full minutes.
"Can we put on music?" Luke heard himself say, and he wished he hadn't said it. It made it sound like he was okay with everything that just happened. Or didn't happen. He wasn't okay with it. But even though he was used to the smoke in his lungs, the quiet was suffocating.
Calum pointed across the room at the shelves. Above the shelf where Luke had put his books was another shelf filled with records—at least fifty. Luke couldn't believe he hadn't noticed them before. He practically jumped up to look at them. "Wow. You have so many."
"Have you ever been in the back of the music shop? Storage area?"
Luke turned around from where he knelt and looked at Calum. "No."
"They've got boxes full of them."
Luke's eyes widened a little. "Really?"
"Mhm."
"Why didn't you take them all?"
Calum shrugged. "I picked my favorites."
"You like rock music. Alternative," Luke said, flicking through his records.
"Mhm. I was looking for Stevie Wonder the other day. Wanted jazz or funk or whatever you call him. They didn't have any."
"I'll find you one someday. New mission." Luke didn't know why he'd said that, either. Apparently his brain was now programmed to want to please Calum. He came upon a record that caught his attention amongst the AC/DC and Nickelback and Green Day. "What's this?" He held it up.
Calum nodded. "Misty music."
Luke tilted his head. "What's that?"
"You've heard Nickelback, yeah?"
Luke nodded.
"That's granite music. Green Day?"
Luke nodded again.
"That's liquid platinum. Aerosmith is cobalt. Linkin Park is steel wool. Twenty One Pilots is a lightbulb flickering in the dark. Slipknot is arsenic, powder form, in your coffee." He pointed his cigarette at the album Luke was holding up. "That's mist." He put the cigarette back between his lips.
Luke was completely awed. That was the best way he'd ever heard anyone describe music. He sometimes thought of music as colors but naming them with physical material—elements and things like them—was somehow better. Calum was suddenly poetic or philosophical or however you wanted to describe that. Normally Calum barely said anything. But that was amazing. Luke didn't feel as bad anymore. Maybe Calum did have a heart. Maybe they needed to listen to music more often.
"Can I put it on?" Luke asked.
"Sure."
Luke slipped the record from its sleeve and put it on the record player in the corner of the room. "Scarborough Fair" started to play across the walls. Luke stood there, facing Calum, listening to the song for a while. "This is interesting. You're right—it is misty."
"Wait for "The Sound of Silence"."
Luke pointed. "I've heard that I think."
"Everyone has."
Luke nodded. He walked back over to the couch and sat down, this time in the middle, closer to Calum. "So...did you like them?" he asked, referring to the other two.
Calum didn't answer for a moment. "I suppose. I didn't like that they stole your lollipops."
Luke smiled, tried not to roll his eyes. "Really, it's fine. We made more than I could eat. And even if I could, we could make more again."
"Mm."
Luke sighed. He scooted even closer to Calum again without realizing it. "I like Michael. He's nice. He let me hug him." Luke thought he felt Calum tense. "Is that okay?" he asked.
He almost wanted Calum to say no so he could point it out to him that he never let Luke hug him. Never even let Luke touch him, save for last night when Luke had forced it. And then maybe if Luke said that, Calum would let him.
But Calum said again, "I suppose."
"What do you mean?"
"If it makes you happy."
Luke looked up at him. "Happy? Calum, I'd be happy if you just—"
The oven timer went off. Calum stood. "Bread's done. Come see."
Luke didn't even bother protesting or trying to finish his sentence. He was too tired of it now. He just wanted to go the rest of the evening without arguing or anything like it. He went to the oven with Calum.
"And the soup's almost done," Calum said, wrapping a towel thick over his hand and opening the oven.
A pleasant warmth flooded out and enveloped Luke. Calum reached in and pulled the pan out, and suddenly Luke could smell the bread and it smelled so good.
"Oh wow. That smells amazing," he said, trailing behind Calum as he took the pan over to a cooling rack.
"It does," Calum said. "Give it until the soup is done and we'll take it out and slice it."
"We can't now?"
Calum put down the towel. "The soup isn't done."
"Is it not cooked yet?"
"Well, the meat is done I'm sure, but the vegetables might not be as soft as they should be."
"That's fine." Luke was suddenly really hungry. Or maybe he was trying to make this go by faster. Maybe he wanted to get over their weird fight-ish things and start a new day. Or maybe he just wanted to get in bed.
"You want to eat now?" Calum asked.
"Well...let's slice the bread and then...yeah. I'm hungry."
Calum looked over at the timer on the stove. There were only twenty minutes left anyway. He supposed it would be fine. "Okay. Watch out. I have to get the bread out."
Luke stepped back as Calum got the bread knife from the block. He dug it around the edges of the pan, somehow not mangling the bread itself like Luke knew he would have done. Then Calum put two towels on his hands and gripped the sides of the pan, flipped it, and shook the bread out onto the cooling rack. He put down the pan and the towels and turned the bread over so it would be standing the right way up.
He turned to Luke and flapped his hands a little. "That's hot."
"But it's beautiful. We made that. That's crazy."
"It's bread."
Luke shrugged. "Yeah. But it's pretty bread."
Calum got two bowls and two plates. "Do you like the end or the middle?"
"Middle, please. Does anybody like the butt?"
Calum raised an eyebrow.
Luke raised one back. "What? The butt ends of the bread. You've never called them that?"
"No."
Luke smiled. "Well, you should."
Calum shook his head. He sliced through the bread and Luke could see how crispy the outside was and how soft and fluffy the inside was. He was still amazed every time Calum cooked something.
Calum had a middle slice and was going to put it on the second plate but Luke said, "Can I have that now?"
"We're not at the table yet."
"I know... Please? It smells so good."
Calum stared at him. Luke didn't know why Calum made such a big deal out of it. He figured it was a control thing. But Calum said it himself—it was bread.
"All right," Calum said eventually, and handed Luke the slice and made a new one to put on his plate.
Luke took the slice and bit right into it. It nearly burned his mouth, but it was incredible. Soft and buttery and they hadn't even put anything on it. "Oh my God."
Calum gave him a questioning look.
Luke nodded. "So good. I can't wait to dip it in the soup." He took another bite. "It's like—"
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
Luke paused, sighed through his nose, finished chewing, swallowed. "Sorry."
"How much soup do you want?" Calum asked as he turned off the burner and got a ladle.
Luke shrugged again. "Some?"
"Definitive," Calum said.
Luke only smiled and took another bite of his bread.
Calum got their soup. They ate at the table. Luke was relieved. He wasn't sure he could handle sitting at the bar counter when just over an hour ago he had been lying on his back, rocking to Calum's thrusts, right in front of there.
They ate, they sort of talked, the misty music played from the common. Luke brushed his teeth while Calum washed the dishes, and Calum got ready for bed and met Luke in the bedroom after turning off the record player.
Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs again, wearing just his underwear and a big t-shirt that draped off his thin body.
"Are you waiting for something?" Calum asked as he walked in, removing his shirt.
"You," Luke said. And he was. He was waiting and waiting for Calum to hold him like he said he would.
Calum looked at him for a moment, and nodded. He stripped down to his underwear while Luke watched. He went to the light switch and flicked it off. "It's early," he said into the dark.
"More time," Luke replied.
Calum didn't answer. He got into his side of the bed and Luke crawled over and joined him under the covers. Luke wasn't sure if he was supposed to face Calum or not. He didn't know exactly what Calum meant when he said he was going to hold him. So he just moved closer to Calum and waited.
"Turn over," Calum said.
Luke did.
Calum wrapped his arm over Luke and pulled him flush against his body. Luke could feel the warmth of Calum's skin on his back and wished for a moment he'd left his shirt off. But this was okay. And he could feel the movement of Calum's chest as he breathed, the tickle of his breaths on the back of his neck. Calum's hand rested on his stomach. Luke brought his hand up and put it over Calum's, just waiting for Calum to push it away. But Calum said he'd hold him; Luke hoped he'd keep his promise. So Luke didn't twine their fingers together or anything drastic, but he put his palm over Calum's, and he tucked up his knees a little, curving into Calum's body.
Calum stayed.
Calum kept his body's urge to tremble at bay. He told Luke he would hold him because he felt bad about the things that had happened between them during the day. He didn't know why he felt bad. He just didn't like seeing Luke sad and on the verge of crying like that. So he'd said he would hold him, and now that the time had come, he could feel that idiotic thing coming up into his chest again.
Luke's hand moved and covered his.
Calum tried not to twitch, made an effort not to pull his hand away. He let it rest there under Luke's palm and he could feel Luke's stomach moving slightly with each breath. He didn't admit to himself that he liked it.
They slept.
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Author's Note
So I woke up this morning to tons of votes and comments, two follows, and three reading list adds??? I know that doesn't sound like much but for me that's like my whole Wattpad career in one night so TYSSSSM to the new people here and over at Strike I mean wow I'm going to cry. So that's why I posted this chapter--as a thank you for all the love I got today. I know my fics aren't the easiest to read but I try really hard at this shit so I really appreciate when you guys appreciate that, so YEAH IDK ILY ALL. And of course thanks to my people who have been here from the start I mean really what more could I ask for. I have a new best friend because of this dumb site even though she lives in FCKIFN SWEDEN AGSJD and another in fckgik Hong Kong but oh well the internet is a great place for friends and social death.
I love all your comments--they're my favorite part of being a writer on here. Okay. Thanks. Ily.
xx
L
Any quotes, song titles/lyrics, and things of that type are not my work and I take no credit for them (though I do thank those who made them for their incredible artistry).