Chapter Text
also u can listen to this while reading if you want to idk
oh and luke's hair is black in this don't be surprised
A soft and fresh wind blows softly into the bedroom and when it meets his skin on fire, Calum wakes up. Not violently, not gently. He just opens his eyes. For a minute, he remains unmoving, lying on his bed, gazing at the ceiling and still hearing the wind whispering to the half-open window and the curtains. He doesn’t remember having left that window open, besides, but other than the amazing heat trapped inside his body, he doesn’t feel much.
It’s the end of August, and the heavy atmosphere of late summer is pressing upon all of Los Angeles, especially in this particular afternoon. The white bed sheets, clashin with Calum’s skin, he’s thrown them away in his sleep, and they’re crumpled at the end of the bed. On his body, perspiration shines with a cold sunbeam slipping through the fragile shutters. Calum’s eyes travel from the wallpaper to the bedside table and he checks the time. It’s almost four p.m.
Calum closes his eyes for a second, but when he wants to open them again, he finds out it’s much more difficult than expected. The mattress is burning under him with the high temperature his body’s shared with it. Calum finds himself inhaling and arching his back to escape for a brief moment. He can smell the alcohol he reeks of.
When he’s rolling on his bed again, again, again, Calum knows he can’t stand any more of his burning mattress and he decides to get up. Thus, he tears himself off the white draw sheet and throws his legs to the side, sitting up simultaneously. His bare chest is glowing. When Calum’s feet touch the floor, the tiled floor, he lets out a moan. It’s pure ice. Wonderfully cold. Calum would like to lie down on it. But instead, he rises to his feet and stands up.
At first, he feels dizzy, but the disturbing sensation quickly fades away. Calum ruffles his hair tiredly. One foot after the other, he walks to the door of the bedroom. Said bedroom is a medium-sized room, with a double bed, matching bedside tables, a wooden closet and a window overlooking a busy street. Calum shares it with Luke. It’s where he makes love to him, quite often. Calum struggles to reach the door. But he can feel himself waking up. The doorknob is cold, too, under his fingers, when he turns it. He already knows what – or rather who – is waiting for him on the other side. He exhales.
The door opens into the living-room/dining-room/kitchen. Luke and he have shared this flat in Los Angeles for about three years now. It hasn’t always been easy. Three rooms: one bedroom, one bathroom, and the multifunction one. Bills are sometimes hard to pay, and it’s a struggle with the money they have, although they aren’t poor. In this building, there are about ten flats, all occupied. Calum and Luke’s is on the fourth floor.
As he steps into the living-room, Calum swallows. The living-room isn’t separated at all from the kitchen. No wall. There’s a huge window divided in three parts on one side of the room, facing the door of the bedroom. Just next to said door, a bookshelf, where paper and ink letters meet plants and coffee jars, as well as a globe. Between it and the window – from which you can see half of Los Angeles –, a sofa sits against the wall, and it’s the very end of the room. There is also a cupboard in the living-room, in which you can find plates, glasses and cutlery. Actually, the front door opens into the kitchen. On its left side, a fridge, working surface, cooking supplies and the door of the bathroom. On its right side, a desk, on which Calum can draw. A table fills the space in the middle of the room, four chairs match it but only two of them are regularly used. And on one of the chairs, Luke is sitting.
Last night, Calum went to some friends’ party. These friends, Luke hates them. He didn’t mind staying home alone, but only with Calum’s word that he would be back at 2 a.m. at the latest. Calum promised. When he opened the door of the flat after the party, it was half past six. Luke was sleeping. At that moment, Calum didn’t feel guilty. Much less than now. Calum lets go of the doorknob. Luke is holding a half-empty glass of water although he’s not drinking it and the carafe’s on the table. He’s gazing at something Calum cannot see.
Calum stands where he is for a minute, looking at him. Luke’s a boy. He isn’t short, he isn’t skinny, but something in him makes him look fragile. His skin is pale as snow, his hair is dyed black as night, his lips are red as blood. And at least half of his body is covered with tattoos. They can’t all be seen at the moment, because he’s wearing clothes, but Calum knows them by heart. He also has a ring on his left nostril, two small spheres of metal below his bottom lip, two on each side of the end of his left eyebrow, and several jewels and silver rings on both his ears. To Calum’s eyes, Luke’s beautiful. His beauty is strange, but great.
Calum walks deeper into the living-room. He looks at Luke, but Luke doesn’t look at him. “Hey,” he attempts saying, but only a low and hoarse croak leaves his lips.
“You’re getting up late,” Luke says in a blank voice.
“I got back home late,” Calum replies.
“You’d promised you wouldn’t.”
Calum shrugs. “Yeah.” He goes to the fridge. His mouth is as dry as the Sahara desert. He pulls the door open. A fresh wave caresses him. Calum bends down, grabs the milk bottle and closes the door. When he turns around, he’s somehow disappointed because usually, Luke would’ve been staring at his ass. This time, he isn’t. Calum opens the milk bottle and drinks straight from it.
“Don’t do that. It’s disgusting,” Luke says. His eyes are still glued to some detail of the table. It doesn’t stop Calum from drinking. That’s when he notices the sheets of paper in front of Luke. “You didn’t pay your share of the rent this month,” Luke announces. Calum keeps silent. “It’s the third time, Calum.”
“Look, I have the money to pay – ” Calum begins lazily.
“I know,” Luke cuts. “That’s the problem. You’re not paying just because you don’t care. And who argues with the landlady every month? I do,” he says.
“If you’re going to give me another lecture…”
“Don’t!” Luke says much louder. He starts whispering again. “You’re never, never doing what you must do. You break your promises. You don’t pay. You do everything wrong. I’m sick of your shit, Calum.”
Calum has no idea why he’s losing it so fast. “Wait, you are sick of my shit? You are sick of my shit? I am sick of your shit, Luke!” Calum replies. “I’m not your child, nor your soldier. I can do whatever I wanna do! Why are you telling me all of that now? I just, just – woke up and…”
“Because too much is too much!” Luke says in a weird voice that slashes Calum’s skin. He shuts up. The black–haired boy is still keeping his eyes low and he’s clenching the glass of water so hard that it seems to be about to break. Calum decides he looks sad, too. He blinks, and slowly opens the fridge to put the milk back into it.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says.
“You sure will,” Luke replies bitterly through clenched teeth.
“Come on, it’s not like you always pay for everything! I’ll do it, fine! No need to get so fucking angry!” Calum exclaims. Luke’s knuckles are white as a lightning on the glass. For the first time, he looks up, abruptly. And Calum sees pure hatred in his bright blue pupils.
“No need to get so fucking angry?” he says. “Are you shitting me, Calum? You asshole! I – ”
“Shut the fuck up! You’re being such a bitch right now,” Calum cuts. “I’m going back to bed,” he mutters. Not waiting for Luke’s answer, he turns around and starts heading towards the door.
He should have been more careful, and paid more attention to the burning fire in the boy’s eyes. He should have listened to the loud noise Luke’s chair makes against the floor, and to the three rapid steps that follow. He should have looked back over his shoulder.
Because the next second, the glass carafe smashes against the wall, missing his head by mere inches.
The noise is painful, it’s an explosion, and everything shatters. On the white wallpaper, a wide stain is appearing, and water trickles down like tears. Calum’s blood runs so cold he feels a shiver travel along his spine. He swears he can feel again the slight air movement created by the carafe seconds ago, in his hair. All seems to be in slow motion, for a minute. He turns towards Luke, and looks at him silently. Luke is panting, too. He’s standing next to the table, and the fingers of his right hand are still open, like holding another invisible glass carafe. His eyes are wide as blue holes, but not in surprise – the same hatred as before is painted all over his face, and he looks insanely aware of what he just did.
Calum blinks.
Luke blinks too.
“You could’ve killed me,” Calum breathes. Luke remains silent, but he holds his gaze with no shame. “You wanted to kill me…” Calum says louder. “You wanted to kill me. That’s fucking hilarious.”
“I – ” Luke begins. It’s the first time that he looks taken aback.
“You wanted to kill me,” Calum repeats. The situation is slipping out of control. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s in front of Luke, Luke’s ass is pressed against the table. And Calum’s fingers wrap around his neck. And he clenches. Hard. Luke’s eyes widen in pure fear and he gasps. Calum strangles him tightly, and the boy’s Adam apple is moving up and down desperately under his thumbs. But he’s not even trying to set himself free. Calum’s shaking him violently, but he’s not trying to set himself free. His hands are on the table behind him. “You bitch. You fucking bitch,” Calum says, again, again, again.
Luke’s choking. Tears are gathering in his eyes, twinkling diamonds ready to roll out. Calum still clenches. He’s not in his normal state, and his heart is sweltering with the heat of all the anger and hate burning inside, that he’s held there for so long. Luke’s at his mercy, completely powerless. He could kill him right now if he wanted to. But what stops him from doing so is surprise.
When he presses himself against Luke, he feels something weird. The boy’s eyes are clouded with a milky dizziness. But what’s strange is that Calum can feel him hardening, down there. Puzzled, he ends up releasing, slightly, his grip. Luke throws his head backwards. Calum is sure now. Luke has an erection and it’s wrong because Calum is strangling him right now but slowly, he understands. He’s blocking his arteries, making him go without oxygen. Luke probably feels really dizzy. Once, Calum experienced that too. He was under the sheets, trapped in heat in his bed. Lack of air. He’d felt weird and aroused. But now, he doesn’t think it’s a good thing Luke is.
When he lets go of him, the boy takes in a deep gulp of air abruptly. He blinks once, twice, three, four, five times. Luke looks like he’s about to faint. He’s shaking. But Calum can still feel a hardness through his underwear and Luke’s jeans. “How is that even possible?” he spits.
A desperate, hoarse, breathless groan leaves Luke’s lips. He’s panting now, looking at Calum’s imploringly. “Haaah…” He’s really crying, red eyes, red cheeks.
“You slut,” Calum says. Harshly, he pushes Luke backwards onto the table. The glass of water totters, and finally shatters on the floor. Calum’s hands are pressed on Luke’s shoulders. Luke’s wet gaze is glowing with fright. Red marks have appeared on his neck, clashing with the colour of his skin. “You’re pissing me off, Luke,” Calum says. Indelicately, he unbuckles Luke’s jeans, unzips them and undresses him. Luke’s feet are hanging in the air, centimetres from the floor. He’s hard indeed, and Calum shakes his head repeatedly.
“I’m sorry,” Luke groans. His voice is only a painful whisper. Calum doesn’t care. He bends down, and kisses him deeply. The boy’s lips are hot as the sun. He’s been biting his tongue, and there’s a taste of blood in his mouth. Calum feels himself hardening. A thin layer of sweat is pearling on Luke’s chest. He’s scratching Calum’s back. Calum knows he doesn’t need to prepare him because they’re so used to it, and he doesn’t want to. Which is why, with no gentleness, he pushes the boy’s knees wide apart, and enters him without warning.
Luke lets out a loud “oh, yes!” and his back arches sharply.
“Shit, Luke,” Calum says, almost not believing what he sees. Luke laughs dizzily, bitterness caressing the edge of his voice. It’s tight, around Calum, but he starts moving soon, and Luke whimpers. Calum’s thrusting repeatedly in and out of him. The black-haired boy’s a real mess. His legs are hanging loose on each side of Calum. And Calum fucks him hard and deep. It’s funny how he can feel so aroused when anger is burning inside him. He wants to hurt Luke, but this, this feels so good he never wants to stop. The wooden table is moving slightly under Luke, at each one of Calum’s thrusts.
Quickly, the pace gets faster. Calum’s waiting for a rapid, violent orgasm. Which doesn’t come. Pleasure builds inside him, but he can’t feel his release coming. But it’s okay. Luke will last long, too, because he can’t touch himself. Both his wrists are pinned to the table. “Oh – Calum…” he pants. Calum fists his hair and silences him with his mouth. He almost could feel his anger fading away. Luke’s always so good at this. But right now he’s crying again, and he’s wrapped his legs around Calum’s waist to bring him closer. Calum decides to free him and he releases the boy’s wrists, to place his hands on his petite hips. This allows him to slam harder into him, earning repeated cries from him.
One of Luke’s hands soon finds its way to his own member, while he digs the fingers of the other one into Calum’s back. “You’re going to regret what you did,” Calum growls.
“I don’t – care…” Luke breathes. “I hate you.” Calum moves faster and deeper. He just doesn’t like the table. Without telling him beforehand, he slips his hands under Luke’s back and lifts him up. Luke moans in surprise and he kisses Calum. Calum bites the boy’s lips hard. “Ah!” Luke screams. Calum stumbles away from the table. The first thing he meets is the bookshelf, and he slams Luke against it, then starts rolling his hips again, fucking him harder than before. Luke’s stroking himself to the same rhythm, panting. “Oh, more…more,” he asks for.
Calum’s seldom felt so much pleasure. Luke is tight and hot and he clenches again and again and so much that it sometimes becomes difficult to move. He’s let go of himself, and now he’s gripping the edge of the wooden bookshelf to hold himself in place while Calum moves. “Oh God,” he begs again.
“Do you want it? Do you want it?” Calum asks.
“Yes,” Luke replies breathlessly.
“I told you you were pissing me off, Luke. Say you want me,” Calum whispers.
“I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, to make me forget about everything that isn’t you inside me,” Luke pants. Calum chuckles and he wraps his fingers around Luke’s hard member, smirking more when he hears the loud moan leaving the boy’s lips. “Oh yes, touch me like that!” Luke cries out. “Ah!” He throws his head back into the bookshelf. Calum doesn’t say anything and he just keeps thrusting inside Luke. It’s just that his legs hurt. “Put me down on the sofa…” the boy says with difficulty. Calum grunts but he decides to do as he’s told. Grabbing Luke again, he walks to the sofa.
Meanwhile, Luke kisses him hot and deep. His tongue dances in Calum’s mouth. With his right hand, he’s touching himself, and Calum wonders how come he hasn’t had an orgasm yet, because it seems to feel great. When he reaches the sofa, he bends down and they slump down on it. Calum holds himself up with his arms, his hands on each side of Luke. Luke’s moaning under him, aroused and shameless. Calum stops, and he really gazes at him.
The tattoos Luke has are cherry blossom. The flowers almost seem fluffy. They are black and white, but very realistic. Just as if he had actual petals on his skin. On his lower stomach, a perfect black circle is traced. Scars are engraved all over his upper arms. And there are the strangulation marks and bruises still flowering on his neck. Luke looks like some insane artist’s canvas. But his hips are rocking against Calum’s, and Calum has to set his pace again, attracted by the boy’s movement. He’s surprised by how well Luke endures pain today. His nails are still digging into Calum’s shoulders, but he doesn’t scream anymore. It’s surprising. Once, Calum and he got drunk and Luke ended up wearing handcuffs. He cried for one hour after that. Real tears. Which made everything awkward. But today, it’s different. He’s burning with anger, just like Calum.
Five o’clock strikes. Calum is still making love to Luke and it’s the hard, bitter way. A delicate, clear light is drifting into the living-room through the wide window. It hits Luke’s skin and explodes like sparkles. The sofa’s starting to creak painfully under them. Luke’s mouth is wide open but no sounds come out. Calum feels like it’s been hours since Luke started screaming at him and threw the glass carafe against the wall, since he almost strangled him and the night-coloured bruises bloomed on his neck, so similar to the ink flowers all over his body.
As he keeps slamming into him endlessly, Calum watches his black hair sway. He knows exactly where Luke’s sweet spot is, but he doesn’t touch it. Even over the sofa’s noise, he can hear their neighbour’s heels on the floor above. And he hopes she hears them having sex. Oh yeah, he hopes she hears the base cracking and their skin slapping and both of them panting and he hopes she knows he’s punishing Luke and he hopes she’ll remember. Remember that Calum has a boyfriend whom he can fuck whenever he wants.
Honestly, everything is great and Calum knows all his madness is melting into pleasure, but he just can’t feel any way of fire stronger than the others, any knot forming in his stomach, any heartbeat exploding. Luke has opened his eyes now. His grip on Calum’s shoulder isn’t as tight as before. He’s looking at one of the cushions sadly. Calum stops for a second. “Hey,” he whispers. With two fingers, he pushes Luke’s chin up gently and kisses him.
“Why did you stop?” Luke asks low.
“You looked sad,” Calum says.
“I’m not,” Luke replies.
“You looked sad.”
“Carry on,” Luke brushes him off. Calum nods silently and he kisses him deep, slowly resuming his previous thrusting. A small smile forms on Luke’s lips. “Yes, like that,” he says quietly. Calum cannot believe how he manages to look so beautiful and calm now while an hour ago, he was almost killing him. Smoothly, he changes the angle of his thrusts to please him more. But deep inside himself, no release is coming, just like before. However, just when he thinks he really won’t have an orgasm today, Luke parts his legs just a little more and suddenly everything gets a thousand times better. Calum’s body is like set on fire and Luke’s screaming again. All of a sudden he isn’t an atheist at all anymore. “Oh Jesus, Calum!” His words hit the cushions and the walls and the furniture and they’re the only thing Calum can hear now.
He knows the boy’s close to coming because he’s doing what he always does in these moments, which is trying to steal quick kisses from Calum, clumsily. Calum loves him again and again. He slows down eventually, to slip his hand under one of Luke’s legs and put it on his shoulder. He’s holding Luke’s hips firmly. His next moves aren’t as fast as before, but they’re deeper, and it’s wonderful.
On his lower stomach, Luke has four piercings; two next to both of his hipbones. If lines were traced to connect them, they’d meet right between his thighs. Calum touches the boy’s bellybutton then lets his fingers slip to the tiny metal spheres. “Oh please…” Luke implores. Calum still touches them and a cry escapes from Luke’s mouth. His hand covers his face but Calum pulls it away.
“Look at me! I want you to look at me! Luke!” he shouts. Luke bursts out laughing and dissolves into tears the next second. “Luke,” Calum says low, cupping his face. When he speaks, his voice waves as he moves. “You won’t try to hurt me again?” he asks. Luke’s eyes are shining. He shakes his head. Calum smiles. As their lips join and they share a long kiss, he suddenly feels really warm. Luke is amazing. The heels are still hitting the floor, above. Calum smiles and when he meets Luke’s eyes, he knows they’re thinking about the same thing. Let’s let her hear.
Luke’s insides and kisses, his skin and the flowers that seem to be blooming over and over and the taste of his mouth and his low moans and chuckles are what bring Calum to the edge. Just when their neighbour decides to play indie rock because it’s too much now, he dissolves into pleasure and comes inside Luke as he shuts his eyes tight. Luke waits for him to come back to him, but when Calum manages to meet his eyes, all he sees is him pleading to be pleasured.
He pulls out of the boy and kisses him for several minutes, savouring the heat of his lips. His hand strokes all Luke’s chest slowly. The sofa is getting dirty but he doesn’t care. Luke is now waiting for him to allow him to feel good, and for once he’s going to do as he’s told. When his hand reaches Luke’s crotch, Luke whispers in his ear. “You don’t have to rush it. Please take your time.” It’s a good thing Calum physically cannot feel aroused at the moment, because Luke’s words are a wonderful caress and sound amazing. He wraps his fingers around Luke, and touches him.
Whenever he’s lying and this happens, Luke tenses up in a cute way. This time, his legs, wrapped around Calum’s waist, hold him tight, and he rolls to the side, so that both of them are resting on the sofa now. Calum smiles. He doesn’t even understand how he can have tried harming such a beautiful person. Luke is fidgeting like a kitten. Within minutes, he has a quiet, gentle orgasm against Calum, and he closes his eyes; his boyfriend’s name leaves his lips several times in hushed tones. Quickly, he wraps his arms around Calum and pulls him close.
“You were so, so annoying,” Calum says softly.
“I know,” Luke replies low.
“I’m sorry about earlier. And for breaking my promise, too,” Calum adds.
“It’s okay. Just don’t strangle me again. It hurts,” Luke says.
“I won’t.”
“Great.”
By the time Luke’s breath has evened, the clock strikes six p.m. “I’m going to have a shower,” Calum announces.
“I’ll go before you, if you don’t mind,” Luke says. “Chinese or Indian for dinner?”
“Chinese.”
“I’ll order after showering.”
While Calum fetches clean clothes in the bedroom, the boy walks to the bathroom. Calum hears the water splashing on the tiling. He waits until Luke’s finished, then showers in turn. For the first time since he woke up, he manages to feel refreshed. When he opens the door and steps out into the dining-room, Luke’s leaning on the working surface with his elbow, telephone against his ear.
“Yes. Thirty-eight dollars, thank you. Yes. Goodbye. Thank you. Yes. Have a good evening too.” Calum walks to him silently and when he’s just behind him, he wraps his arms around the boy’s waist, nuzzling his black hair. “I got caramelised pork and rice.”
“Noodles?” Calum asks.
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” A minute or two pass by. Calum is shifting from one foot to the other, cradling Luke left and right. “Want to watch a movie?
“Yeah,” Luke nods. They turn on the TV and move the sofa a little so that the two items are facing each other. While Calum takes out plates and cutlery, Luke browses through their DVD collection. “Rush? Upside-Down?”
“Choose the one you want.”
“There’s Titanic.”
“No, not that one.”
“Sherlock, then.”
“Okay,” Calum says. Soon, the sound of the doorbell is heard. Calum opens the door and pays the delivery boy. Luke is already sitting on the sofa. Calum quickly joins him. As soon as they open the bag of food, the deliciously fatty, sweet, fragrant smell of what they ordered caresses his nostrils. They share the food, turn the lights off, then Luke presses play.
oh and btw here are examples of luke's stuff
aaaand stay in tune bc there are two other chapters coming lol
please tell me if this sucks so that i can stop posting now lmfao