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1
There’s always been something between Luke and Ashton.
Even when the band was just starting out and things were ever changing, there’s always been something between them. Whether it was laughing by Luke’s side when things were good, or holding him tightly when others ridiculed him for his quirks, there’s always been something there.
Ashton loves Luke’s quirks. Or at least he loves most of Luke’s quirks. Some bring a pang of unhappiness, while others have his heart leaping for the moon.
The way he covers his mouth when he laughs too loudly never fails to make Ashton scrunch up his nose in disappointment; Luke should laugh without feeling self conscious about it. He tends to dance back and forth from foot to foot when he’s slightly nervous, not to the point where he wants to get out of a situation, but just when he’s out of his comfort zone, almost like he has to pee but can’t find a bathroom. When he shrinks in on himself in situations where he actually is fully uncomfortable and stressed, rolling his shoulders forward in order to make himself appear as small as possible, it rips Ashton’s limbs apart, aching to pull Luke’s shoulders back and straighten him out.
Thankfully those quirks are few and far between, nestled in between habits that make Ashton smile instead of frown.
One habit that Ashton really loves from Luke is his tendency to seek Ashton out as a source of comfort. No matter what they’ve been through, Luke always has come to Ashton when he needs someone to lean on, physically or emotionally. In a crowded room, Luke gravitates towards Ashton naturally, something that’s been emphasized even more so now that they’re back on tour and have fallen back into their old habits of sleeping together.
Ashton is lounging in their dressing room post ice-bath, wrapped up in a warm cardigan and sweats as the air conditioner blows frigid air into the room. He’s alone, huddled in the corner with his knees nearly up to his chest, scrolling through fan photos on instagram while he tries to warm up just enough to get moving again.
“Hey,” Luke says as he pushes through the door from the bathroom, toweling off his shower damp hair with a small smile on his face. “How was the bath?”
“Cold,” Ashton says monotonously, though it only lasts a second before Luke’s amused snort paints a smile onto his face.
“No shit,” Luke replies, tossing his towel into the laundry basket as he circles around the couch, bare feet smacking against the tile floor with every step. “Need help warming up?”
Ashton barks out a laugh as he adjusts his position slightly, bringing his knees down to the side so Luke can slot himself next to him. “Are you trying to proposition me?”
Luke falls into his spot next to Ashton, but quickly turns and lays on his side with his head across Ashton’s thighs, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Not now, but I could try that line again later if it works on you.” His hair falls across Ashton’s legs, sticking up in a million directions. He’s going to complain about it later, Ashton knows that, so he carefully untangles the strands in the front so they lay flat.
“I’ll be sweaty after the show though, I won’t need help warming up.”
“Why are you making this difficult,” Luke whines with a teasing smile, rolling his eyes. “If you don’t want me, you could just say so.”
“That’s never the case,” Ashton replies, letting his voice fall into the dangerous territory marked “ maybe just a bit too genuine for the friend you’re sleeping with” . He tries to keep his fondness to a minimum, but it’s hard to control when Luke bats his eyes at him like that.
Luke hums and closes his eyes, falling into the comfort of Ashton’s hands carding through his hair, combing through the knots and tangles, spiraling curls around his fingertips every so often. His head is pillowed on Ashton’s thighs perfectly, each of them comfortable in their spots with no noise other than the humming air conditioner.
After a little bit, Luke brings his hand up to rest against the swell of Ashton’s right thigh, fingertips pressing lightly into the skin through the thin layer of cotton between them. There’s no heat or want in his touch, simply seeking out the ease of an interaction so casual, kneading his flesh like a pleased cat. It’s a familiar interaction, with Luke always wanting to be as close to another person as possible, but always seeming to find his spot against Ashton’s legs when he can.
Yet there’s just a little bit of something more there, something in the way that Luke’s fingers press down and his cheeks round out from his smile and his eyes flutter shut. Something.
Like it tends to be in their lives, their peace is short lived as Calum and Michael come whipping into the room, tripping over one another in their haste. Michael shoves Calum once in the arm before turning his attention to Luke and Ashton, immediately wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“Disgusting,” he sneers with no heat behind it.
“Fuck off,” Luke pokes back, raising his head just enough to glare at Michael over Ashton’s knees.
“I’m not the one that is obsessed with—” Michael gets cut off by Calum elbowing Michael in the ribs and Luke shouting “NO!” as loud as he can.
Michael grumbles in pain, muttering words that Ashton can’t decipher from the couch. Calum and Luke exchange a look across the room before Luke settles back once again. It feels like Ashton is somehow on the outskirts of the band, missing something completely. It’s a strange sensation, knowing there’s something unsaid between them, though everyone else is in on it but him.
“What am I missing?” Ashton asks, looking between Luke, Calum, and Michael with narrowed eyes.
“Nothing,” Luke says, before promptly falling forwards and hiding his face in Ashton’s stomach, face eclipsed by the side of the forest green cardigan. His breath seeps through the thin cotton t-shirt, warming Ashton’s stomach with each puff of air through chapped lips.
Unconsciously, Ashton holds the back of Luke’s head, threading his fingers into his hair again as he tilts his head at Calum and Michael, who both look far too amused by the situation in front of them. It doesn’t make any sense. This isn’t a new development, Luke and Ashton being tangled together on couches in a completely innocent way. And none of them are stupid enough to ever fool around in a space where someone could walk in at any second, so it’s not like there’s the lingering fear of being caught doing something inappropriate.
Calum simply shakes his head at Ashton with a tight smile before he turns to begin getting ready for stage with Michael following behind.
Ashton is left with Luke’s breathing butterflies into his stomach and a swarm of confused moths bouncing off the sides of his head.
2
When they were planning this tour, Ashton was adamant that they needed to have more off days with plenty of time for him to be outside.
Yoga and meditation have become two of Ashton’s favorite hobbies through quarantine, utilizing the free time he suddenly had as means of learning how to strengthen his body and mind in new ways. He wouldn’t consider himself a master by any means, but he’s definitely past the beginner stage, leaning towards the point of learning to do more advanced moves.
They’re somewhere in the midwest, in between states on their way to god knows where, but they’ve stopped by a lakeside where there’s no other cars or people in the general area. Michael and Calum took off with Ryan once they stopped, leaving Luke and Ashton to lounge in the sun. Luke set himself up in his favorite lawn chair facing towards the water with Ashton just off to the side, stretched out on his blanket while beginning his stretches.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Ashton asks, smirking at Luke as he does arm circles to loosen up.
“I’m perfectly content watching,” Luke replies, tilting his head back towards the sun. His pink tinted glasses shimmer in the sunshine, casting rose colored shadows across the high points of his cheeks.
Ashton takes off his shirt and works through the beginning stretches, loosening his back and muscles until he’s ready to go through his routine. He’s done this particular set of poses more times than he can count, throwing in a new move every so often to shake things up. If he’s learned one thing through ten years of touring, he desperately needs to keep himself loose in order to perform best on stage.
Luke hums to himself every so often, jotting words down in his notebook while bopping his head to a beat that only he can hear. There’s something so comforting about the two of them coexisting together like this, content to be close but doing their own things. Luke’s mumbled singing helps slow Ashton’s heartbeat even more. As much as Luke tends to actively search for Ashton when he wants peace, Ashton thinks his soul pulls Luke’s to him when he needs his certain brand of calmness more than anything else.
The lake’s waves lap at the sandbar a ways away as distant birds harmonize with Luke and the warm breeze, creating the perfect symphony of sounds for Ashton to move along with. It’s one of those moments that doesn’t feel real, doesn’t feel like it’s something he’s actually experiencing, and he tries to savor every second of the surrealness.
Once he’s sure he’s nice and open, Ashton tilts into a new pose that he’s only tried a handful of times, revolved triangle. He’s always struggled with getting his hand far enough over his leg to plant against the ground while also opening up his chest and back enough to fully extend his arm towards the sky.
He maneuvers himself as best as he can, elongating his spine and breathing through the tiny ache that the stretch brings. His outturned left foot slides a bit, leaving him unsteady on his feet as his leg starts to shake, thigh quivering under the weight of his body. Ashton tries to hold strong, centering himself in the moment until he’s sure he just won’t be able to stop shaking, so he relents and navigates out of the position, though his legs just don’t seem to want to stop shaking.
Frustrated by his inability to perform the way he wanted, Ashton opens his eyes and finds Luke staring directly at him, lips parted just the smallest amount as he gapes. He’s gripping the side of his folding chair tightly, fabric rippling under his fingertips as he studies Ashton’s figure like he’ll be quizzed on the results later and he just has to get an A.
There’s something else in his stare, something that Ashton can’t name.
“What?” Ashton asks after a few moments of silent staring.
Luke blinks once, twice, three times, before he shakes his head. “What?” he echoes, releasing his grip on the chair.
“You were staring.”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” Ashton says, plopping down to sit with his legs crossed on the blanket. “Why?”
“I wasn’t,” Luke tries again, though the apples of his cheeks are tinted a bit brighter than they were before.
“Luke,” Ashton huffs, but leaves it at that, instead choosing to lay back on his blanket with his legs stretched out in front of him.
Predictably, Ashton can hear the creek of Luke getting out of his chair and padding across the grass with bare feet until he too lays down on the edge of the blanket, shoulder to shoulder with Ashton. With the sun to their left, they both silently gaze up at the passing clouds, basking in the warmth from both the sun and their proximity.
“Moments like these are my favorites,” Luke says quietly, raising a hand to drop it onto Ashton’s thigh, simply resting on the bare skin where his shorts have ridden up a little bit.
“What, where you can grope me out in the open?” Ashton teases.
Luke laughs, one of those unrestrained laughs that catches in the back of his throat as he wheezes and curls in on himself, tucking his head into Ashton’s shoulder momentarily before he uncurls, now on his side with one hand propping up his head. The other drifts up Ashton’s leg, catching on the waistband on his pants in a way that’s not entirely innocent before it moves up his stomach, finding a spot against his heart within the patches of chest hair.
“No, though that’s always fun too. I meant the moments where we can just exist and not have to worry about being anyone other than ourselves.”
“Oh,” Ashton says quietly, nothing more than a breath of air between them. It’s rare that Luke is the one who wants to talk about things in a more serious way, always managing to catch Ashton off guard when he does. He’s quick to react, though. “Yeah, I’m always grateful for the time when we’re on stage and with the fans, but I’m equally grateful for the moments of solitude and reflection.”
Luke hums his affirmation, letting his hand fall away from Ashton’s chest as he lays down on his back again, though his hand instantly finds its home on Ashton’s leg, toying with the bottom hemline of his shorts. “Yeah, and I love the time that I get to spend alone with each one of you, you know? Calum is my favorite to bounce song ideas off of. Michael is my favorite to go shopping with or try a new place to eat.”
“And I’m your favorite for nothing?” Ashton interrupts, voice dripping with sarcasm.
There’s a heavy pause for a moment and Ashton contemplates breaking it until Luke speaks up, quietly, but oh so sincere. “You’re my favorite to do nothing with. You’re the only one where I feel comfortable just existing and don’t feel like I need to be doing something or be someone.”
The air is punched from Ashton’s lungs again, rendering him speechless in a way that no one else can manage. It’s teeth rottingly sweet and sugar coated, encased in a hard shell of truth that Ashton can only swallow whole and hope that the words will melt into his bloodstream. There’s nothing he can say that would equal the way he feels in the moment, warm from the sun, warm from Luke’s body, warm from his words.
Instead, all he can do is raise his own hand and place it down on top of Luke’s and hope that the energy of his adoration can be felt through skin contact alone.
When Luke turns his hand over to gently lace his fingers with Ashton’s, he knows his message has been received.
3
“I’m going for coffee in a bit, does anyone want to come?” Ashton asks, standing at the door to the bunk side of the tour bus as it’s parked in the back of tonight’s venue.
It’s early enough in the morning that Ashton is met with only a chorus of groans from everyone sitting in the front lounge in various states of dishevelment, Calum in nothing but his boxers, Michael with sweater paws and fuzzy socks on, Luke in a chair with his feet tucked up underneath him. Luke at least lifts his head and looks at Ashton in interest.
“How long until you leave?”
Ashton shrugs. “Fifteen or so?”
Luke nods, extending his legs out from under him. “Okay, I’ll come.”
Michael snorts into his tea, but doesn’t say a word as Luke kicks him in the leg while walking towards the back of the bus.
All of their suitcases lay open across open bunks, ready for them to pull out whatever clothing they want each day, with random articles strewn across the floor where they’ve spilled out from their confines. Ashton follows behind Luke as they start rummaging through the cases, Luke opting to pull out a tank top and pants before he makes a noise of interest.
“Wear these,” Luke says, holding out a pair of tan corduroy pants.
Ashton tilts his head with a laugh. “Why these?”
Luke simply shrugs and moves to the tiny bathroom without a word.
Though he probably should question Luke’s motives, Ashton isn’t one to shy away from fashion advice from Luke, so he pulls on the pants without fuss and waits for Luke by the door to the bus, ignoring Calum’s teasing “have fun on your coffee date!” as they walk down the stairs.
The small coffee shop on the corner is mostly deserted when they walk in, other than a few lingering people waiting for their coffees at the end of the bar. Luke orders first, offering to pay for Ashton’s and only pouting a little when Ashton refuses. He’s a grown man, he can buy his own oat milk latte, no matter how sweet the gesture is.
“Excuse me?” a voice says from Ashton’s right right after he’s taken a seat on a stool to wait for his drink while Luke opts to wait with the others.
“Hi!” Ashton says, easily falling into his Meeting Fans Voice, slightly more chipper than his normal tone but not even a shred of insincerity to be found.
“Hi, oh my god, I’m sorry to bother you,” the fan says, grinning as her hands shake slightly. Her drink sloshes around inside the cup but Ashton doesn’t call her on it.
“Never a bother, are you coming to the show tonight?” he asks, smiling at her enthusiastic nodding response.
Luke wanders over at that point, holding Ashton’s drink out to him with a smile towards the fan. He takes a sip of his own drink before saying anything, standing with one hand in his pocket. “Hi,” he says awkwardly, earning a nervous giggle from the fan.
“This is insane, I’m sorry, I come here every day and it’s so weird to see you guys here. Can we take a picture?”
They do so as quickly as they can, trying not to draw more attention to themselves than necessary. Ashton is thanking the fan and preparing to leave when she tacks on one last comment. “Oh Ashton, I love your pants.”
“Yeah, I do too,” Luke says, before his face quirks strangely, like he can’t figure out why he said that, but his eyes are trained down on Ashton’s thigh. Ashton adjusts slightly, feeling the way the fabric bites into his skin as he raises his knee. A slightly strangled noise rips from the back of Luke’s throat before he coughs to cover it, taking a small sip of his drink.
“Thank you,” Ashton says to the fan before shooting Luke a look of confusion, which is just met by a small shake of the head, not visible to anyone who doesn’t know Luke well enough to read all the microexpressions.
It’s not until they’re walking back to the bus that Ashton has a chance to tease Luke about his statement. “You like my pants?” he taunts, hip checking Luke slightly, causing him to trip over his feet slightly.
“Oh fuck off,” Luke sighs, barely supressing the faint blush that dusts his cheeks.
As much as he wants to, Ashton doesn’t call Luke out on it any further, instead opting to sip his coffee quietly, thinking over the experiences of the past few days with a new lens. Luke is drawn to Ashton more than ever before, and while it’s not unwelcome, it’s a surprise every time that he makes a random comment or touches Ashton a little longer than before.
These moments are usually reserved for heated times of longing, craving release and proximity to another person, never shared in the daylight where others can see or hear them. It’s a far cry from their activities behind closed doors, but there’s something about this moment in particular that feels charged, like there’s an undercurrent that Ashton isn’t aware of yet, just waiting to zap him when he least expects it.
4
Those same thoughts from earlier come back around tenfold later that afternoon when they’re doing their private soundcheck. They’ve played through a few songs, fucked around on stage and made sure that they’re all ready for the show tonight.
They’re midway through a play of Youngblood when Ashton notices Luke creeping up on his right, playing along to the music instead of singing up front where he should be. It’s not abnormal for Luke to drift around the stage during soundcheck, using the chance to see the stage from different angles than he’s able to during the show.
What is different though is that he lingers next to Ashton for a moment, but Ashton can’t take his eyes off his drums for long enough to check in with what Luke is interested in. When he finally does get the chance to avert his gaze, he tilts his head up towards Luke, only to find him downright gaping at Ashton, eyes trained on where he’s steadily tapping his foot to the pedal on the bass drum. Except he’s not looking at the drum, or even Ashton’s playing at all, but instead he’s focused on the way that Ashton’s leg is moving.
It makes sense, honestly, from Ashton’s totally objective point of view, because his legs do look really toned from this angle, with his shorts having ridden up a little bit and the muscles flexing with every tap of his heel. He’s never stopped to take a look at himself when he’s playing like this, but it seems that Luke is entranced by the movement, lost in thought while still plucking strings on his guitar on autopilot.
Ashton takes the opportunity to bang the cymbal closest to Luke's head, drawing him out of his daydream with a sharp strum of his strings. Luke blinks wildly as he hits an awful note, one that stops everyone in their tracks immediately.
“What the fuck was that!” Michael cries into his mic, swinging around towards Luke.
“Sorry!” Luke calls, shooting Ashton an angry look before heading back towards the mic. “I got distracted.”
“You’ve been playing Youngblood for four years now, don’t tell me you forgot the chords now along with the words,” Calum says, arching an eyebrow judgmentally.
“I didn’t,” Luke complains, playing the part perfectly before sticking his tongue out at Calum.
Ashton laughs to himself, amused by Luke’s sudden tendency to get distracted by the smallest things. He’s always been one to lose himself in thought, but it’s never happened so frequently and it’s never been so pointedly directed at Ashton. Maybe he should be a little more concerned about it, but at the same time, Ashton really can’t find it in himself to be anything but flattered that he’s managed to get Luke flustered more than one in one day just by existing.
But as they’re exiting the stage at the end of the private soundcheck, Ashton grabs Luke’s bicep, pulling him back as Michael and Calum walk ahead. “You good?” Ashton asks, letting the slight concern for Luke take over for a moment.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Luke asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
“Been a little distracted today,” Ashton replies, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Luke swats at Ashton’s shoulder while shaking his head. “I’m fine.” There’s a certain tenseness to his voice that hasn’t been there in a long time, especially not when related to Ashton. It’s slightly more concerning, but Ashton doesn’t have enough time to probe further before Luke is taking off towards the guitar rack, leaving Ashton alone on the big stage with nothing but his drumsticks for company.
Whatever the something is that’s up with Luke, he’s going to figure it out, whether Luke likes it or not.
5
Ashton doesn’t have to wait that long to find out what’s in Luke’s head. They’re lucky that it’s a hotel night with an off day tomorrow, meaning no alarms and no lingering responsibilities that will have them slinking out of bed at a far too early hour.
They don’t even pretend like they’re about to spend the night alone, with Ashton and Luke waving tired goodbyes to Calum and Michael as they head off down different corridors of the hotel, separated on the off chance that a fan gets into the area and manages to figure out where they’re staying.
Totally not from personal experience. Never.
Ashton sends a quick glance to the room in his name as they walk past, saluting it in his mind as it will stay untouched through the hours until they’ve long past checked out and the next guest is ready to move in. Instead, they tiptoe a few doors down, Ashton holding his striped duffle bag and Luke his backpack with his tiny toiletry bag dangling by his side.
Another non descript hotel room with just the right amount of pizzaz to bring it up a star, with a large gray headboard and a disgusting assortment of overpriced nuts on the countertop. Luke barely gets through the door before he’s kicking off his slides, launching them across the room where they thump against the exterior walls before hitting the carpet.
“You break it, you buy it,” Ashton says, arching an eyebrow as he toes off his own shoes in a much more civilized fashion.
“Yeah, better be careful, I’m sure I couldn’t afford the mass produced wall sconces or printed artwork,” Luke jabs back, dropping his bags in front of the dresser before flopping backwards on the bed.
“Might make you go bankrupt.”
“A price I’m willing to pay in order to not wear shoes.”
Ashton snorts out a laugh, shaking his head as he grabs his shorts from the bag. “Gonna shower,” he grunts, turning towards the bathroom as Luke whines behind him.
“Nooo, just come to bed,” he groans, and Ashton doesn’t even need to turn around to see the extended bottom lip and batting eyelashes being thrown his way.
“You say that now but ten seconds after I get in bed, you’ll complain that I smell,” Ashton sends over his shoulder, continuing across the carpet to the bathroom.
Luke grumbles incomprehensibly behind him, breaking a small smile onto Ashton’s face. Predictable.
The unpredictable part is when the bed squeaks with the effort of Luke getting up off of it and following Ashton into the bathroom. He’s already in his comfortable clothes, always opting to get into them right after stage, even before showering, just so he doesn’t have to wear his fancy clothes in the car on the way to the hotel, but Ashton can’t do that without running the risk of going through all his clean clothes in just a few days with the way he sweats on stage.
Still, Ashton only arches an eyebrow as Luke leans around him to turn on the shower, twisting the knob to a temperature that they’ll both be okay with; a little too cold for Luke and a little too hot for Ashton, but neither one will complain. A practiced compromise between the two of them worked out over years together in one way or another.
There’s something in the air as they both undress quietly, not sharing the tiny jabs and jokes that they normally do when they’re on the road to something like this. What exactly are they on the road towards, though? There’s normally some kind of conversation before they go into anything, or at least some kind of foreplay outside of Luke calling for him to get into bed.
Whatever it is between them hangs heavy, pushed around with the movement of the shower curtain and beaten into their skin with the pounding drops of water. That something falls from the shower head, carving patterns down Ashton’s back as he steps under the water fully, drenching his hair fully. From behind him, Luke’s hands swipe across his back, sending the water droplets down new paths. It’s always Luke that brings things down new routes.
Luke’s fingertips flutter down his shoulder blades, coming across the malleable planes of his sides before they push in front, coming to a hard stop across Ashton’s hip bones, thumbs caressing the swell right along his bellybutton.
“Keep going?” Luke asks, playing a piano melody into Ashton’s skin, from pinky to middle to thumb and back.
Ashton replies in the form of his head falling back against Luke’s shoulder and an open mouthed kiss to the underside of his jaw. The something is still surrounding them, like this moment means more than it normally does, kicking up bubbles in Ashton’s gut that pop and fizzle into excitement.
Luke’s right hand moves lower, ghosting over Ashton’s dick lightly before capitalizing on the shower water’s slickness and wrapping his thin fingers around completely. Ashton hisses at the sensation, reaching a hand back behind him to grab hold of whatever part of Luke he can touch. As much as Luke is the one who seeks out the physical contact, Ashton can long for it just as heavily in the right moments.
Between the steam in the shower, Luke’s own biting kisses against Ashton’s shoulders, and Luke’s hardened dick against the swell of Ashton’s ass, time slows to a near halt. Every second is an eternity, with the way Luke runs his thumb over the head at the same time that he presses himself to Ashton’s back, gasping out with each delicious moment of pleasure before repeating his cycle again at the same deliriously slow pace.
One hand goes to Luke’s hair over Ashton’s left shoulder, gripping onto slippery strands in a way that has Luke panting, while the other squeezes his hip, feeling the sharp lines of Luke’s hipbone as he digs his nails in. Luke retaliates with a faster jerk and the hand that had been pressed against Ashton’s stomach traveling lower until he can sink his pastel nails into the hair on Ashton’s thigh.
They move in tandem for a while, seconds ticking by only through the sound of the water hitting the ceramic tile beneath them as it cascades down their bodies. The steam sinks into their lungs, filling them with warmth from both the inside and out as they race to touch as much of each other as they can.
“Fuck, Luke,” Ashton huffs out, rocking with him under the shower water. He’s sure if he opened his eyes, he’d be compelled to turn around, if only to see the way Luke’s face has to be twitching the way it tends to do so on the brink of falling over. He keeps his eyes pressed closed, relying on his intricate knowledge of Luke’s body to tilt them both just slightly, just enough to turn his hand towards Luke’s dick, laughing at the sharp intake of breath right around the shell of his ear.
“Close,” Luke mumbles, stealing a quick nip from Ashton’s earlobe before he doubles down, pressing down against the thick underside vein in a way that only he knows to do.
Ashton chokes on an inhale of scalding shower water, coughing roughly just as Luke twists in the right way, losing the cough in a moan that has his hips twitching forward and then back to a metronome shared between them.
“Hot,” Luke teases, receiving a swipe in response that nearly has his knees buckling.
“Fucker,” Ashton returns, twisting his neck to get his lips on Luke’s, all with his eyes still glued shut, refusing to acknowledge whatever it is that’s somehow still circling their bodies through the shower water and steam. It’s more of an open mouthed touch than a kiss, breathing into each other’s air before Luke comes first, hips stilling against Ashton’s leg while his hand keeps moving on autopilot. Skills of a guitarist with practiced finger movements.
Ashton follows not long after, coming against the tile walls as he grunts into Luke’s collarbone, licking the hot water off his skin as he searches for salvation. It’s only then that he finally opens his eyes, coming face to face with Luke’s soaked smile and hooded eyes with wet curls plastered against his forehead.
Somehow he looks beautiful.
Ashton pockets that thought as he pats Luke on his bare ass, squeezing a little for good measure just to hear the startled squeak of a laugh that pops from Luke’s mouth. They shampoo and conditioner in silence, other than a few snorted laughs when they lather each other up with soap.
It’s too easy, too normal, too casual, but somehow it all feels right, after all these years, winding up in these situations again and again. Sometimes Ashton thinks they need to get a grip on whatever they’re doing and stop before something bad happens, but with Luke’s sapphire eyes and bitten red lips inches away, there’s not a shred of Ashton that thinks he could stop this, even if he wanted to.
The strange feeling lingers until long after Ashton has fully gotten ready and into bed, hidden under a cheap hotel duvet in his shorts as he scrolls through his phone waiting for Luke to be ready for bed too. As expected, it’s only a little longer before Luke launches himself at the bed, flopping down in the empty space between the edge and Ashton’s body.
“Tired,” Luke says, pressing his face down into the crisp sheets as Ashton pats the back of his head.
“Used up too much energy in the shower?” Ashton teases, twirling the half dried curls at the base of Luke’s neck.
“Fuck you,” Luke mumbles into the sheet before he wiggles his way up and under the blanket. He only lays there for a moment before he turns his head to Ashton, blinking with pleading eyes and a tiny smile.
“What,” Ashton says, dripping with faux annoyance as he puts his phone down. Not much more out there that’s more interesting than Luke.
“Cuddle?” Luke asks, grinning like a child as he tilts his head to the side.
Ashton rolls his eyes, ignoring the thumping in his chest that kicks up just a notch louder as he pulls the blanket up, waiting for Luke to settle in.
The position of choice is one that somehow surprises Ashton, even after all this time. Luke lifts himself just enough to slot one leg between both of Ashton’s, thigh surrounded on both sides as he lays at an angle, covering Ashton with his body. His head lands on the softest part of Ashton’s chest, pillowed on short chest hair that probably itches his face, but he doesn’t complain. Left arm wrapped up around Ashton’s shoulder and under his neck, left hand settled on the peak of Ashton’s thigh, Luke sighs in contentment.
Ashton’s hands unintentionally circle Luke’s hips, locking them together in place.
It’s not the kind of cuddle they share before bed without the intention of heading in a different direction, yet it’s somehow not the kind of embrace that leads to something more either, not with how sated Luke looks with a tiny smile across his wide lips.
Luke squeezes Ashton’s thigh lightly.
“That reminds me,” Ashton says out of nowhere, letting Luke’s actions finally bring them full circle, “What’s with you today?”
Luke’s eyes open, hazy with exhaustion and confusion. “Huh?”
“You’ve been distracted today.”
Luke hums. “I don’t think I have.”
“Coffee shop? Soundcheck? Oh and that stupid comment on stage about everyone in the audience only looking at me all show?”
There’s a quiet pause for a moment where Ashton gets to study the lines of Luke’s face. His sharp nose slopes off just the right amount above strawberry lips with the slightest dusting of angel kiss freckles across his cheeks. Even in the dim lighting, he shimmers, through traces of leftover mascara under his eyes and a few spotted blemishes on his forehead where sweat has caused him to break out. He’s beautiful.
“What, I’m not allowed to comment when you look good?” Luke asks, a slight edge to his voice that screams defensiveness.
“No, you know that’s not it. It’s just… new, I guess,” Ashton says carefully, breaking through some of that something that clouds the air between them.
Another pause, more weighted than before. “Do you…” Luke starts, pausing to lick his lips and bite at the lip ring hole at the edge of his mouth. “Do you want me to stop?”
Ashton doesn’t reply for a moment, letting the words sink through Luke’s chest into his. The gut reaction is to shout “No!” at the top of his lungs, but why? Shouldn’t it make him a bit uncomfortable? Shouldn’t he want whatever weirdness is between them to stay behind the safety of closed doors and a band secret?
But it hits him then, that maybe that’s not what he wants. Maybe he wants the idea of being publicly loved by Luke, in as many ways as he’s able to. Maybe he likes the thought of being claimed, even if it’s mostly in secret and sometimes in public, in ways that the fans may never come to know. Maybe that’s what’s been between them all along, something that transcends past their friends with benefits arrangement and into something a little more real, a little more permanent than their temporary tattoo touches.
“I will, if you want me to,” Luke adds on, deflated, but willing.
“No,” Ashton says, clutching at the bare skin at Luke’s sides. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Ashton feels the sigh more than he hears it, feels the way that Luke sags against him as the tension bleeds out of his shoulders and into the mattress below. “Okay,” he says quietly. “That’s good, because I don’t really want to stop.”
“Luke,” Ashton starts, but he doesn’t really know where it’s going. How is one supposed to even start a conversation like this?
“No,” Luke says softly, tilting to press a kiss against the soft fuzz on Ashton’s chest. “I know.”
“You know?” Ashton echoes, scratching dull nails down Luke’s spine.
Luke hums, nodding once with closed eyes. “Yeah, I think we’re on the same page. We don’t have to talk about it right now. I’m there too. We’ll figure it out later.”
Ashton laughs, something of disbelief as it cracks through the last pieces of that something between them. It feels more solid now, but not in a way that is threatening to drown them, but instead in a way that lifts them up, carries them above the clouds and holds them high, out of reach from anyone else.
“Yeah,” Ashton says, flattening large hands against Luke’s back. “We will.”
Luke’s fingernails bite into Ashton’s thigh in what feels like a promise. They’ll figure it out later.