151;

[flair]

Title: frenzy
Characters: Asch the Bloody, Luke
Rating: Pg-14

Breaths mingle in the tight space, fingers scrabbling for buttons and hearts beating in time like a broken metronome (one-two, one-two, one-one-one-one-two-one-skip-one) and the pressure closing in; Luke hates how their arguments end up in kissing, how the session begins with him clumsily placing his hands on Asch's shoulders and trying to bring them closer, how it ends with him breaking from the haze of apathy and need to keep his guilty fingers away from the fringes of Asch's tabard, itching to lift it and slip his greedy hands against the toned stomach he knew was there, to feel it peel off with every measured inch and let it roll between his fingertips in the cold air.

He hates the guilty pleasure he gets from it (what else could he describe the feeling that makes his stomach do flips and makes shame sink like a hot rock to the bottom of his stomach?) and the way it makes him feel, desperate and needy, wanting to give back everything Asch has lost, and Asch seems to realize it, too, because he's the one who breaks the kiss, snaps it in half like an icicle falling from a tree and doesn't look back to see what it might've evolved into, only looks forward to leaving a mussy Luke leaning against the wall with his fingers to his swollen lips and not another sound, the memory being shoved to the back of his mind as soon as it can and to never be spoken of again.

Luke hates being left alone because then he knows he's done something wrong, and he feels it wrap its icy hand around his heart and squeeze a beat too late, and he pushes it to the back of his mind only to wake up from dreams (nightmares) with the scenes in them, pressed against an alley wall with bricks scraping his bare back and fingernails digging, bleeding, into the concrete that held them up, eyes clenched and teeth bared, sweat making trails down his body and –

he always wakes up before he looks down.