— watch it all fall down.

[babylonradio]

welcome to babylonradio!

this blog contains adult content.

neo ★ she/they. adult. michael lane.

inbox is open! requests: CLOSED.

i. masterlist.

ii. asks.

iii. twitter / ao3

adult content warning. minors dni. 18+ only.

mind all tags.

may contain dark content. all characters depicted are 18+. do not repost.

i will not write: noncon/dubcon. pedophilia. incest. racism. homophobia. transphobia. infidelity. death.

[babylonradio]

hey, if fan fiction requests are still open, can it be based around 2 things: calum kneeling in front of Luke and Michael and calum leaning into each other including luke? I want Micheal to be the jealous one, and go to town on calum, but also have Luke included somewhere in there as well. (I want Luke to have eyeliner on)

hi anon!! i can't promise i'll be able to deliver on this but i'll def work on it 🫡 in the meantime, my super awesome best friend @vsslinawntrcoat has a luke x calum x michael fic with a VERY similar premise to what you're requesting !! you can find it here

enjoy !!

[babylonradio]

just read the new fic and all I can say is the banter 🤌🏼🤌🏼 you write your characters, ooc or not, so well and I was giggling they're so funny <3

thank you so much !! im really working on trying to be less ooc but sometimes the context of the fic screws me up </3 i'm glad you found it entertaining 🫶🫶

[babylonradio]

hi! i first want to say that i really enjoy reading your fics, and i dont want you to think this is a critique of them or your writing or anything! but! is it possible for you to add a keep reading break line to your fics? scrolling past a 10k fic ive already read every time im in 5sos tags is not my fave and like i said i really like your fics i was just wondering if you'd consider it?

hi!! thank you for pointing this out!! my bad actually, i'm not a regular tumblr user so i didnt know that the break line wasn't an automatic feature 😭 i've updated all my works with it and i'll keep it in mind for the future!! thank you 🫶🫶

[babylonradio]

🚨 new fic alert!!🚨

i can't wait to read it when i come back from the gym later, perfect way to end a Monday

god, you won't even believe me how much seeing you having posted improved my mood 🤭

ENJOY 🫶🫶🫶 i hope it's a mood-booster!!

[babylonradio]

Question, do you have a beta reader? How does one acquire one when theyre are friendless? .... asking for a friend ofc.......

hii anon!! i actually do not have a beta reader 😭 my best friend has access to a doc i sometimes update with my wips (and vice versa) but thats lowkey just for us to have early access to eachother's works lol

i would suggest maybe publicly asking if anyone wants to beta read + pitching the premise of ur fic !! and if u want to, my pms are open aswell !! i love beta reading 🫶

[babylonradio]

bite me (please?) — michael x luke

college AU: luke is convinced that the guy he's doing his course project with is a vampire, and he's going to prove it. michael just wants to get through the semester.

warnings: NO SMUT. college AU. fluff. comedy/humour. bad jokes. mentions of supernatural (vampire) elements, but nothing graphic. profanity. getting together. everybody is a little ooc. not proofread.

wc: 8.5k

author's note: this was meant to be a silly 2k fic but then it turned into this. sorry about all my bad jokes and how EXTREMELY ooc everyone is. also suspend ur disbelief at luke's private-dorm-that's-kindof-an-apartment

come find me on twitter!

“So, this guy Michael…” 

Luke’s got the tip of his pen between his teeth while he looks across the campus courtyard at the man in question. Michael strums an acoustic under the shade of a tree, all aesthetic and cool and untouchable with the way the breeze catches his dyed hair. Luke’s been paired up with him for his anthropology project, which would be fine, except.

Ashton, sitting on the wooden picnic table across from Luke, looks up from his notes. Calum stops sipping obnoxiously at his disgustingly sweet iced coffee. They follow the line of Luke’s vision to Michael. 

“Oh, Michael,” Ashton says. “He’s a good lad.”

“Hm,” Calum says. “Gay.” 

Ashton thwacks him in the back of the head with a rolled-up assignment. Calum snickers into his drink.

“Yeah, anyway, so. Michael,” Luke squints at the man on the lawn suspiciously. “He’s definitely a vampire, right?” 

Calum and Ashton share a look. 

“A vampire,” Ashton repeats.  “Yeah.” 

“Right,” Ashton nods, like he completely gets it. Then, “And I’m the Queen of England.” 

“Listen,” Luke hisses. “He’s so fucking pale, mate. Have you ever met an Australian that’s whiter than white?” 

“You’re whiter than white,” Calum says. He’s gone back to sucking at his straw. The cup is empty. Luke’s going to throw something at him if that irritating slurping doesn’t stop soon. 

“Thats not the point.” 

“What is?” Calum continues. “Do you sleep with a night light too? Need a cup of milk before bed?” 

“I’m kicking you out of the friendgroup.” 

Calum shrugs. “Ashton agrees with me. Don’t you, Ash?”

“Luke,” Ashton starts, and he’s making a face like he’s constipated. “Vampires aren’t real.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah, well. Burden of proof.” 

“I’m gonna drop your textbook on your face while you sleep,” Luke tells him. He only half means it. Kind of. 

Thing is, Ashton’s right. And that sucks, because Ashton’s always right. He does need to prove it, because otherwise Calum and Ashton will be on his ass about that one time you thought a random classmate was an undead bloodsucking ghoul. 

He spares a glance at Michael again and watches him shrink away from the sunlight, plastering himself further against the tree trunk. 

“Look at him,” Luke insists. “He’s transparent. He’s literally white as a ghost—” “Oh, you believe in those too?” Calum snarks. Luke ignores him. “He’s a vampire. I’m telling you.” 

“And I’m a fairy! I’ve got a wand in my pants too. Wanna see?” 

Luke makes a face. “Keep your disgusting penis away from me.” 

“Not what your mom said last night,” Calum leans back on his hands. 

“Quickly, how much do you like your front teeth?” 

“Why, wanna lick ‘em?” 

“Calum,” Ashton pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be a dick.” 

“I’m just saying!” Calum throws his hands up. The plastic cup goes flying from his grip and lands in the lap of some poor freshman, who looks up at the sky like this was her last straw. “If you want to make crazy claims, you gotta commit to it!” Calum continues. 

Luke folds his arms. “Fine. I’ll just—I’ll prove it.” 

“Prove…that Michael is a vampire?” Ashton tilts his head. He somewhat resembles a confused puppy. Luke would kick that puppy, in all honesty. 

“Yes,” Luke slams his laptop shut and stands up, staring into the distance with what he hopes is heroic determination in his eyes. “And then you’ll have to eat your words.” Ashton drops his head into his hands. Calum grins. “Alright,” he says, and there’s something malicious in his eyes. “Be my guest.” 

Luke flips him off, stepping over the bench of the table. He shoves his laptop into his bag and walks off without a word. He tries not to look back at Michael, because he knows his asshole friends are watching him go. 

“Ten bucks says he just wants to date the guy,” Calum stage-whispers, turning to Ashton. 

Ashton groans, exasperated. Then puts his hand in Calum’s outstretched one. “You’re on.” 

—

Admittedly, Luke doesn’t actually know a whole lot about Michael. Like, sure, they’re in the same class, but that's frankly the only course they share, and Luke didn’t even see him more than a few sightings around campus before this semester. And now they’ve got this project together. 

Luke’s in his 9 a.m. Anthropology class, zoned out despite being only fifteen minutes into the lecture. Who keeps a class this early on a Monday? The ugly white lights are too bright, and the sunlight streaks in awkwardly through the tangled blinds.  Most of the lecture hall is empty, and those who did show up are either hunched over recovering from hangovers, or dead asleep. 

Luke himself is somewhere in the middle ground. Laptop open before him, he scrolls up and down idly on a google search result for ‘Vampire Characteristics,’ not really registering anything he’s reading. And what the fuck does preternatural pallor even fucking mean, anyway? Just say ‘pale skin’. Jeez. 

The door slams open—loud enough for the entire class to jump, started. 

A low hum of discontented murmuring spreads over the room. Luke looks over at the door for the source of the sound, and spots a hunched-over Michael Clifford, hands resting on his knees as he heaves for air. Like he’s just run across the campus.  

“S-sorry I’m late,” he gasps.

The professor crosses her arms and frowns disapprovingly, saying something to him that Luke couldn't be bothered paying attention to, because the sunlight catches Michael’s hair as he stands up, and the red makes it look like it’s on fire. 

Michael stands in the doorway, looking bashful, rubbing the back of his neck until the professor is done chastising him. Then, he speaks. 

“So…can I come in?”

He’s shooed into the room, and he finds his seat somewhere closer to the front, and his head is kind of blocking Luke’s view of the board, but that’s not what gets to him. 

No, what gets to him are Michael’s words. Can I come in?

Vampires can’t enter a room themselves, right? They need to be invited in. Right?

Luke’s so ecstatic at finding his first bit of evidence, so determined to rub it in Calum and Ashton’s faces, that when he reaches for his phone to shoot a text on their groupchat, his grip stutters and the thing lands on the floor by his feet with a loud clatter. 

The class turns to look. Including Michael. Luke’s face flares at the attention, even as he murmurs a subdued “sorry…” 

But Luke’s gaze flits to Michael, who’s smiling to himself. Oh. 

—

Luke’s got a plan. As the class draws to a close, his knee bounces anxiously, because he needs to do this just right. No room for fucking up. 

Faintly, somewhere in the hallway outside, a tinny bell rings, and there’s a massive scuffle as everyone stuffs their shit into their carry bags and rushes to get out of the worst lecture on the planet. Luke waits until Michael stands, dusting off his jeans and slinging his leather haversack over his shoulder. Luke shoots up from his seat and rushes to follow, phone in his hand. 

See, Vampires don’t have reflections. So if Luke can just…see for himself that Michael doesn’t reflect on mirror surfaces, that’d be proof enough. But he can’t really shove a mirror in the guy’s face. That’s weird. 

So instead his phone front camera will have to do. 

“Michael!” Luke calls out. The man in question stops and turns, eyes falling on Luke. 

“Hey, man,” he replies. 

Luke waves his phone. “We’ve got that project together, right?” he says. “Wanna give me your number?” 

Michael’s lashes flutter. Not that Luke’s looking! Just that he’s got surprisingly pretty eyes and—anyway. 

“Um,” Michael says. “Yeah, sure.” 

Luke hands his phone over to Michael, front camera open. He rises on his tip-toes to look as Michael takes the thing, but Michael immediately turns the phone to the side when he notices the screen.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, shutting the app. His cheeks are dusted pink. Is that natural? Do vampires blush? “Your camera was on.” 

“Oh,” Luke says. Tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He didn’t even get to see. 

Michael brushes him off and types in his number. He hands the phone back to Luke. 

“I texted myself, so I’ve got your number now,” Michael tells him. 

“Cool,” Luke says, and it’s a little awkward. He fiddles with his phone. “I’ll…um—I’ll text you? We can meet up and work on it together?” 

Michael shoots him a friendly smile. “Sounds good,” he says. “See you around, Luke.” 

He turns and descends the stairway, never really looking back—which is good because Luke’s stuck in place, playing the way Michael had said his name on loop in his head. 

—

Luke texts Michael the address for his dorm. He figures he should test the theory a bit more. What’s the harm? 

Michael knocks at his door a bit hesitantly, just past six in the evening. He’s on time, which makes sense because the sun has started to dip, so he probably didn’t have to scramble for shade on the way over. Unlike with class that morning, when the sunlight had been bright and fresh. 

Luke opens the door, leaning all six-foot-three-inches of himself against the doorframe. He tries for casual, but his mother had always called him an elongated spindly deer, so. Do with that what you will. 

“Hi,” Luke says, smiling a little awkwardly. 

“You come here often?” Michael jokes, taking in the way Luke’s standing. 

“All the time,” Luke replies. “I practically live here.” 

Michael chuckles, shaking his head like he can’t believe Luke’s antics. It sends something warm swelling in Luke’s chest. A silence settles between them. Luke doesn’t move out of the way, because he can’t invite Michael in—Michael needs to ask. 

Michael shifts on his feet. “So, um…can I come in, or?” 

“Can you?” 

Michael blinks. “Can I?” 

“You can, but can you?” 

“What?” “What?” “Luke,” Michael stresses, and Luke’s breath hitches. “Can I please come in?” 

Luke blinks. God, it’s just—it’s the way he says Luke’s name. Something twists in Luke’s stomach, and he stands upright, making way for Michael to step in. As he does, he shoots Luke an odd look. 

Whatever, Luke thinks. I’ll get him next time. 

Michael heads to drop his bag on Luke’s desk, and all of a sudden Luke’s aware that he’s very alone, without having informed anyone else, in a room with a vampire.

Michael gets to work setting up his study material. Luke reaches for his phone and types a quick text in his groupchat with Calum and Ashton. 

Luke

i invited Michael over to study  

if i disappear you have permission to press charges 

Calum 

gay 

Ashton 

In your dorm? 

Luke 

yeah 

Calum 

why in your dorm 

Ashton 

Are you alone in your dorm with Michael right now

Calum

luke are u alone with michael 

luke

LUKE

—

The study session goes fine. Just fine. They end up going through the entire outline of their project and divide the work among themselves. Luke also learns that he has a lot in common with Michael. They both play guitar, and plan to get into music later on. They end up losing track of time talking about all their favourite bands. Conversation is comfortable, like they’ve been friends for years. 

And Michael doesn’t try to bite Luke once. A fact that Luke is completely okay with. And not disappointed at all. Not that he has any reason to be. Disappointed, that is. 

Calum and Ashton are extremely smug about all this information when Luke tells them about his study date with Michael—

“Study date, huh?” Calum smirks. Ashton snorts into his hand. 

“Yes,” Luke frowns. “Like—two people. Studying. On a date on the calendar. A study date.” 

“I’m gonna start a rumour,” Ashton says decisively. Luke kicks him in the shin. He hunches over in pain immediately. 

“Fuck you guys,” Luke says, walking backwards and away because he’s going to be late for class. “You’re both useless. I’m selling Calum’s bass.” 

He doesn’t stay long enough to hear Calum’s squeaked ‘hey, what the hell!’ before he’s turning and jogging towards the Sociology Department block. 

When he gets to class, Michael’s already there, settled into one of the rows further behind. He catches Luke’s eye and immediately lights up in a smile, so Luke takes that as an invitation to go over and sit beside him. 

Michael’s got one leg folded over the other, his laptop propped open in his lap and a travel mug of coffee set on the writing tablet desk. Condensation drips from it. 

Luke basically ran to class in the middle of summer, so he can’t really be blamed for what he says next. 

“Hey,” Luke pants, because he hates cardio so he’s still catching his breath from his sprint. “Mind if I have a sip of your drink?” 

Michael looks between Luke and his cup. He makes a face like he’s in pain. 

“Uh,” Michael says. “I don’t…think you’d like it much.” 

Luke gulps. The cup sits ominously on the desk between them. 

Oh. 

Oh.

He’s got blood in there, hasn’t he? 

Luke tries not to make a face. His hands itch to snatch the thing up and screw open the lid to confirm his conclusion. It sends a shiver down his spine—sitting next to a vampire that casually brings cupfulls of blood to class as a little snack. No matter how cute the vampire may be. 

Wait, what? 

“Sorry, mate,” Michael says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic, and Luke’s train of thought is derailed. 

“‘S alright,” Luke tells him on autopilot. And really, isn’t this a small kindness? Michael saved Luke from drinking blood. Or something like that. He even apologized. So doesn’t that make Michael a pretty cool vampire? 

Luke’s prepared to mull over his reasoning, but then the professor walks in, and he’s distracted when Michael’s knee nudges his own as he leans over to grab a notebook from his bag, and that’s that. 

—

Friday finds Luke, Calum, and Ashton occupying one of the many tables in the library hall. There’s a pretty pile of books stacked up beside Luke’s laptop, but he’s too busy squinting over the edge of his screen, through the space between Calum and Ashton’s heads, towards Michael. 

Michael’s seated two tables away, and Luke’s got a pretty clear view of the guy as he rolls up his sleeves—those tattoos, good lord—and throws his head back in silent laughter at something his friend says to him. Luke’s eyes zero in on his teeth.

More aptly, his fangs. His incisors are sharp. Sharper still than anything Luke’s ever seen before. That’s clear proof, right? And maybe they’re even longer, maybe they’re retracted into his gums, so when he feeds they drop down and—

“Hello? Earth to Luke Hemmings?” Ashton waves a hand in front of Luke’s face and he snaps out of his daydream  rumination of Michael’s vampire activities. 

Calum follows the direction of Luke’s gaze before he can snap his eyes away from Michael. When Calum spots the guy, his face spreads into the biggest shit-eating grin. 

“Like what you see?” he waggles his eyebrows at Luke. Luke goes to kick him under the table, but misses terribly. His toe slams against the leg of the table. He grunts in pain. The kids from the table adjacent to them shoot him a dirty look. 

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” Luke tells Calum. “I’m…observing.” 

“Yeah? Draw any bloodsucker conclusions yet?” Ashton arches a brow. 

“Or sucking of any other kind,” Calum pipes in. 

“Calum,” Luke shoots him a pointed look, because the table over seems suddenly super invested in their conversation. “I’m gathering evidence. Like, look at his teeth.” 

Both Calum and Ashton go to turn around, being extremely conspicuous about it, so Luke has to rush to hiss, “Not now!” 

Luke leans in, and as do the others, so now they’re gathered like they’re sharing some kind of secret. Which is technically true. The students on the table over have given up pretending they’re studying and are now straining to listen in. 

“His teeth,” Luke whispers. “Sharp. They’ve got points. They’re pointy, guys.” 

“Yeah,” Ashton nods. “Teeth tend to be that way.” “Not his teeth,” Luke shakes his head. “They’re fangs. They’re for drinking blood.” “Think about his teeth a lot, do you, Hemmings?” Calum smirks. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Calum only rolls his eyes. He nudges Ashton, who sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Luke, do you want to maybe think about why you’re—” 

“Mate, he was drinking blood.” 

Calum blinks. “What?” 

“I saw it,” Luke says. “I mean, I didn’t see it, but he had this tumbler full of something and when I asked for a sip he said I wouldn’t like what he was drinking. So, obviously, it was blood, right?” 

Ashton looks at Luke like Luke’s hit his head on something. “Why was your first thought blood and not, like, vodka or something?” 

“Who drinks vodka at a 10 a.m. class?” 

At that, Calum slides his water bottle off the table and into his bag. The liquid sloshes, and Luke now notices how it moves like it’s thicker than water. Oh, okay. 

Calum clears his throat. “Um, I wouldn’t know.” 

“Hey, can I have a sip?” Ashton nudges his shoulder. 

Luke shakes his head, trying to draw back to the very pressing issue at hand. “It doesn’t worry you guys that we’re classmates with a vampire?” 

“Why would it?” Calum says, passing his vodka-water-bottle to Ashton, who uncaps it and sniffs. “Considering vampires aren’t real.” 

“Calum, you’re my worst friend,” Luke tells him. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Okay, well,” Luke says, and he’s kind of jealous now that Ashton gets a sip and he doesn’t. “He also asked for permission before coming—” 

“Oh, he did?” 

“—coming into my room.” Luke glares at Calum, who looks far too smug for a guy that’s about to permanently lose a mate. “And he’s so pale. He’s so—” “Who’s pale?” The question comes directly into Luke’s ear, and Luke does not shriek like a teenager. His brain goes offline for a moment as he jumps, whipping around so fast that his neck cracks. 

Michael stands over him. He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder again. He looks past Luke and waves at Calum and Ashton. “Hey, guys. What are we talking about?” 

“Luke’s new set of kinks,” Calum offers, and this time when Luke kicks him under the table, he nails him right in the knee. He yelps in pain. 

Michael blinks. “Okay.” 

“He’s kidding,” Luke says, even as his cheeks flare a hot red. 

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Michael says. “You’re into feet.” 

Luke splutters. “I’m…no, wh—” 

Ashton’s laughing, open mouthed and loud, and they’re drawing the attention of the entire library now. Michael’s eyes light up. 

“Chill, Blondie,” he grins, and the hot embarrassment in his stomach melts into something fluttery and urgent as Luke watches Michael’s lips part in a smile. “I wanted to let you know I’m nearly done with my part of the project. I’ll send it over later tonight?” 

Luke can’t do much more than nod, biting his lip to keep from saying something stupid, like ‘hey, if you need any spare blood sometime—’ but then Michael’s tipping an imaginary hat in their direction, and slipping out of the library.

Ashton and Calum look overjoyed when Luke turns back to face them. Calum’s heaving giggles into his hand, and Luke hopes he chokes on his own laughter and dies. 

“So, feet, huh?” Ashton’s voice is high-pitched with mirth. 

“I’m gonna switch out your shampoo for hair-dye,” Luke says. See if he finds it funny then. 

“He’s gonna—he’s gonna text you tonight,” Calum sniggers.

“Shut up,” Luke says, and he slips further down in his seat and shoves his earphones into his ears. 

How the fuck did Michael sneak up on him like that? And did he hear any of their conversation? Oh, god. Vampires have superhuman hearing, don’t they? And…they’re really fast, and light on their feet. 

That must’ve been what happened. He must’ve used his powers to take Luke by surprise. Lower his defenses. Like hunting prey. Does he use these tactics when he’s out looking for someone to feed on? He’s got long limbs—like, just look at those legs. It must be so easy. 

And if—if the warmth of his voice, the whisper of his breath as he spoke dangerously close to Luke’s ear—if any of that lingers for longer than it should then…that’s just what vampires do, right? They have an allure. A dangerous pull. 

Luke can’t be blamed for being drawn in. 

—

It’s 3:08 a.m. when Luke gets Michael’s text. He’s distinctly aware that it’s the Witching Hour.

Michael 

hey i finished my work 

Luke 

why are you awake??

Michael 

why are you awake 

Luke 

i asked first 

Michael 

i’m jerking off 

Luke flushes violently at that one. He knows Michael’s joking but still. A vague image flashes through his head and he has to blink hard to get it out. Michael’s just so—vulgar. Luke tugs his blanket up to his chin, cheeks burning. 

Luke 

oh okay

Michael 

kidding 

u get riled up so easily 

its cute

Luke 

i’m adorable 

Michael 

hm 

will email u my work tmr morn 

gonna head out to blood bank rn 

Blood bank? 

What the fuck.

‘Blood bank’ as in the place where bags of blood are stored? Does this count as Michael coming out to Luke? Wait, is it still called ‘coming out’ if you’re revealing yourself to be a vampire? 

Luke 

you aren’t going to sleep?? 

also, blood bank? what are you, a vampire? 

Michael 

tryna ask if i bite? 

wouldn’t u like to know ;) 

Luke 

Michael. 

Michael 

ok jeez 

it’s an overnight cafe 

Oh. Okay, that makes sense. 

And then Luke has a strong urge to facepalm, because why would a vampire go to a bloodbank? It's not like you can walk into a dispensary and say, ‘hey, can I get a bag of blood?’

Luke’s eyes are falling shut already. He’s dozing off over his phone screen. Enough studying for today, he thinks. He shuts his laptop and slips further into his sheets. His vision kind of goes blurry around the edges, and his eyes are burning so bad that even though he fights to stay awake, his phone ultimately slips out of his grip. 

He doesn’t stay awake long enough to see Michael’s next text come through. 

Michael 

come with me sometime? 

By the time Luke wakes up the next morning and checks his phone, the message is gone. 

Michael 

[This message was deleted by the sender.]

—

Luke has had a revelation. An epiphany, even. A pioneering idea.

He digs through his closet for his lowest cut shirt. He’s talking like white V-neck, dipping down to the middle of his chest, falling over his shoulders like he’s trying to bring attention to his neck—which he is. Luke has pretty wide shoulders, so the shirt only serves to highlight his width. As he stands in the mirror, he takes note of how the fabric stretches over his chest, draws the eye up from his chest, up along his collarbones, up, up, up the line of his neck. 

It’s perfect. 

“Woah,” Calum says, as Luke meets them in the main block foyer that morning. “No bra today?” 

Luke frowns. Ashton tilts his head. 

“Why are you dressed like a slut?” he asks. 

Luke looks down at his shirt. Frankly, he didn’t really think of how he would look to anyone else. He wore it for Michael. 

Wait, like. Not for Michael, but more like…bait. To get Michael to look at Luke’s neck. If he can catch the man leering over Luke basically inviting him to bite, that’s as good as evidence could possibly ever get. Luke’s a genius.  

When he explains all this to Ashton and Calum, they share a pointed look. 

“You’re a whore,” Calum tells him seriously. 

“I’m a strategic mastermind,” Luke corrects. 

“I can basically see your nipples through the shirt, mate,” Ashton says. 

Luke strikes a shitty pose. “Do they look good?” 

Ashton makes a gagging sound, and Luke will decidedly take that as a compliment, thank you very much. 

Then he catches a flash of dyed hair somewhere behind Ashton, and looks to see Michael crossing the foyer, in conversation with a friend. Without thinking, Luke calls out to him. Ashton and Calum turn to look just as Michael locks eyes with Luke. 

“Michael!” Luke smiles at him, straightening his back. 

Michael raises his hand to wave, eyes flitting between him, Ashton and Calum. 

Luke watches with nothing short of glee as he then freezes in place, gaze travelling down the length of Luke’s frame, then up, snagging at the dip of his shirt. Even from a few metres away, Luke can see his eyes widen as they go straight to Luke’s chest, across his shoulders, then painfully slow up the line of his neck. 

He gulps audibly, cheeks flaring an almost concerning shade of red. Luke’s grin grows. Gotcha. 

“Um, I—” Michael squeaks, face beet red. He meets Luke’s delighted expression, then immediately struggles to make eye-contact whatsoever, eyes flitting everywhere but towards Luke. “I—uh! I have to…be somewhere! Nice t-to see you guys. Bye!” 

He curls into himself, looking straight down at his shoes as he briskly walks out of the foyer, leaving his friend behind to splutter confusedly as he looks between Luke’s friendgroup and Michael’s retreating back. 

Luke looks pointedly at Ashton and Calum as they snicker into their hands. “See?” 

Ashton sighs, bemused. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.” 

Luke blinks. “I think you mean intellectually gifted.” 

“No,” Calum shakes his head, still chuckling. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.” 

“Weren’t you guys looking?” Luke pouts. “He basically just went full vampire in the middle of the hall.” 

“And you’re sure there’s no other reason why he’d turn red at the sight of you today?” Ashton prompts, raising an eyebrow in indication of Luke’s attire. 

Luke adjusts the hem of his shirt. “Well, yeah,” he says. “Why else would he?”

Calum rubs the hells of his palms in his eyes, groaning. “Luke.” 

“What?” 

Ashton slaps his palm to Calum’s shoulder, pressing his thumbs into the muscle there to massage the tension out. He begins guiding Calum away towards the stairwell to their morning class, leaving Luke standing there, confused and mildly annoyed. 

“Just,” Ashton starts, tone sympathetic. Or condescending. Luke can’t really tell. “Just think about why he reacted that way for a bit, okay?” 

That’s stupid, Luke thinks. I know why he reacted that way. It’s because he’s a vampire. 

No other reason. Obviously. 

Right?

—

Luke thinks that the problem really just lies in how he hasn’t properly presented his evidence to Calum and Ashton. Also that they just don’t seem to believe him, so he needs tangible proof. Something that he can point out to Calum and Ashton, something so undoubtable, so obviously evidence of vampiric ghoulishness that it has absolutely no plausible deniability. 

Like sunburns. 

Sure, Luke feels bad for plotting something that will see Michael in pain. But then he thinks about all those poor souls that Michael’s probably fed on, and tries not to think about how nice Michael is and how much Luke actually likes him—and then it’s a whole flurry of emotions that Luke can’t quite contextualize.

In retrospect, tangible proof could also just be something like Luke offering himself up for Michael to bite. To sink his teeth into his flesh. To drink from him, fully and sweetly. To mark Luke’s skin, leave a scar. 

But that makes Luke's belly flutter in a strange way, so he’s going to file that thought for later and maybe never think about it again! 

His plan is simple. 

Michael always dresses in long sleeved flannels and sweaters, which is obviously to protect his skin from the sun. In fact, Michael barely shows any skin, ever. So Luke would just have to force it out of him. 

They’re walking across the campus lawn, partly under the shade of the trees lining the path. The sunlight slips through the spaces between the tree branches, pools of gold dancing on the grass as the leaves shift with the breeze. Michael’s talking about the structure of the conclusion for their project, but Luke’s barely listening, because he’s looking at Michael’s exposed hands and wondering if the sunlight makes his skin itch. 

“Michael,” Luke says suddenly, curling into himself and rubbing at his arms like he’s trying to warm himself up. “It’s cold.” 

It’s not cold at all. It’s actually blazing hot, and Luke’s sweat is nearly soaking the back of his shirt. Michael knows this too. He looks around, eyes flitting across the grounds, where multiple groups of students fan themselves as they walk. 

“What?” 

“It’s cold,” Luke repeats, feigning a shiver for effect. 

“Um,” Michael looks confused. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“No,” Luke pouts. He rubs at his skin further. His fingers slip over the sweat at the crease of his elbow. “I’m just—I’m cold.” 

Michael’s stature grows awkward as he walks beside Luke, who exhales harshly like he’s absolutely freezing, visualizing a cloud of his breath before him as though it's winter. 

Luke sighs, and he hopes he doesn’t sound too dramatic. “I wish I had a sweater or something.” 

Michael stiffens.

Luke watches from his peripheral vision, smiling to himself as Michael looks down at his own cream sweater, biting his lip. All according to plan. 

Michael’s hand comes up to rub bashfully at his neck. “I would—” he offers. “Um, I would give you mine but I’m not really…wearing anything under it.” 

Luke has a brief image of Michael taking his sweater off, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his chest. 

His brain flashes an error message. Information processing interrupted. All systems offline. 

“Hng,” Luke’s mouth says. “Uh.” 

Michael catches his disorientation and leans closer, concerned. Luke picks up on a whiff of his cologne and it’s like being slapped in the face. With a bus. 

“Are you good?” Michael asks. 

Not trusting his voice, Luke nods. He can’t get the fucking image of a shirtless Michael out of his head. His face flushes impossibly red. 

“I’ll—uh,” Luke manages, voice cracking embarrassingly. “That’s okay! I wasn’t—wasn’t that cold, anyway.” 

Michael shoots him a puzzled look, brows furrowed. He looks like he’s about to say something, so Luke cuts in and asks something vague about their joint project to get Michael’s attention off of him. Michael starts rambling about urban gentrification and digitization, and Luke mentally logs out of the conversation completely. 

It’s fine. This is just…Michael’s vampire effects. Mind control. Voodoo shit. Obviously. 

—

Alright, so. Luke might’ve embarrassed himself immensely and failed catastrophically at making his point back there, but a wise person once said, ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’

Ashton looks up from his notes. “I didn’t know you read Nietzsche." 

“What?” Luke says. “No, that’s Kelly Clarkson.” 

Ashton shakes his head. “Should’ve seen that coming.” 

Luke drapes himself over the table. They’re sitting in a deserted study hall, only a few students scattered around the room, hunched over their work and murmuring softly to each other.  

Calum’s got his laptop open, but he’s playing that silly dinosaur game on the browser with his internet turned off. His keyboard clicks loudly as he slams his fingers over it. 

“So now what?” Calum asks, eyes still glued to his screen. “Ready to admit your big gay crush?” 

“My what?” Luke tilts his head. 

Calum sighs. “Mate, you’ve been talking about him for the past month.” 

“Well, yeah. It’s an ongoing investigation, Cal. I’m gathering evidence.” 

“You’re gathering a sexuality crisis.”

“What does that even mean?” 

Calum shrugs. Then jerks. “Wait, shut up. I’m gonna beat my high score.” 

He leans impossibly closer to his laptop screen, tongue sticking out in concentration. Luke rolls his eyes. 

“So anyway,” Luke says. “I’ve decided to shift my focus.” Ashton looks up, brows raised in surprise. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Luke continues. “So, vampires are supposed to be undead, right—” 

Ashton groans exaggeratedly and thunks his head onto the massive book on the table before him. 

“—so he’ll probably be really cold to the touch. You know?”

Ashton whips up to look at him. Calum’s finger audibly slips on his keyboard. He looks at Luke, eyes wide. They share a panicked look, then lean in furtively towards Luke. 

“Luke,” Ashton says, voice barely above an urgent whisper. “Are you going to fuck the guy?” 

Luke reels. “What? No.” 

Wait, that’s actually—

Wait. No. 

Calum watches the thought process pass through Luke’s head, apparently visible on his face. He grins, eyes sharp. 

“Damn,” he says. “I’m not even mad you interrupted my game. This is gold.” 

Luke folds his arms, frowning. “I’m just going to…like, touch his arm or something.” Ashton huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say, man.” 

“You know what?” Luke says, standing up suddenly. He points at Calum, and at Ashton. “Fuck you, and fuck you too.”

He slings his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the way they’re shooting him looks that say they’re just barely holding back laughter. He storms out of the library in what he hopes looked more like a dramatic exit than a prepubescent tantrum. 

He’ll show them. 

—

Luke does not know how to show them. 

He’s been racking his brain over it. How can he get a solid assessment of the temperature of Michael’s skin without doing something extremely creepy? He can’t just grab his forearm out of the blue, or anything along those lines. He’d freak the guy out. And Michael barely has any other skin exposed anyway. 

It’s late evening as he mulls over this conundrum, the sun just barely above the horizon, casting a soft pink light. The shadows on the pathway stretch far, dancing as the evening breeze shifts. The last of the morning birds chirp mournfully as the day closes. He’s headed back to his dorm, prepared to drop into bed, stick his earphones in, and wrap up the last bits of his semester projects. 

He walks into the dormitory hall, and stops in his tracks. The hall is empty, all the couches and armchairs and tables vacant, save for Luke’s favourite loveseat, tucked comfortably against the back wall. The window overhead lets a touch of orange-gold fall upon the inhabitant of the sofa, who looks up when Luke enters.

“Michael,” Luke smiles, and his breath is suddenly heavy in his lungs because the fading sunlight casts a warm glow over Michael’s shoulders as he reclines back into the seat, laptop resting on his thighs. 

“Hi,” Michael’s lips part upon a smile. He bites his lip, an unfamiliar tension fading from his frame as Luke approaches him. 

Luke takes in the man. He’s clearly busy, working on something that has his brows fixed into  frown, skin underneath his eyes dark with exhaustion. He looks like he’s spent the past two nights awake. 

“Can I…join you?” Luke asks. Then pauses. He’s not sure why he asked that, really. 

But then Michael nods, looks at him like he’s grateful for the company, and then Luke’s slipping his bag off and settling into the space beside Michael. 

The thing is—the couch is small. It’s meant for two people of regular height, and Luke will graciously admit that both him and Michael are much beyond ‘regular height.’ 

And so their knees touch. So their elbows brush with every shift. 

Luke grabs a random book from his bag and opens it, barely processing the words because—well, because his theory backfired again. 

Michael is warm. Luke feels the heat of Michael’s body seep into his bones. His skin is on fire where it meets Michael’s. His cheeks burn, but he’s not sure why. Is this…this can’t be the vampire bit of Michael, can it? 

No, this is. This is just the Michael bit. 

Luke zones out over the pages of his book, losing himself to the comfortable silence. The click of Michael’s laptop keys, the way Michael’s shoulder grazes his own, the way they seem to angle towards each other like gravity. 

The light from the window fades. The warm yellow lights of the hall flicker on, and Michael sighs through his nose at something, and then Luke’s counting Michael’s breaths without stopping to wonder why. 

Luke flips mindlessly through the pages. Michael’s cologne wraps around him, and his eyes flutter at the scent as he tries to burn this moment into memory. Him, Michael—not the vampire, just the person—alone together, alone in silence, like a strange shared understanding, an exchange of consolation and comfort. 

All of a sudden there’s a warm weight against his shoulder. Luke stiffens. He turns in time to see Michael, pressed up against him, leaning his head on Luke’s shoulder as he dozes. 

Oh. 

Michael is so warm. He’s so—

Luke tries to hold still, to breathe as little as possible because he’s afraid to wake Michael. He shuts his book and puts it aside, cheeks flaring a vibrant red as he looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers to keep from startling Michael awake as he breathes—slow and deep and relaxed—against him. 

It’s strangely intimate. The room holds still, everything suspended in time, in space, as the world narrows down to just the two of them. Outside, a songbird calls for its mate. Somewhere, a bicycle bell rings. The couch seems to sink under Luke’s and Michael’s weight, trying to swallow them whole. 

Michael’s hands rest on his thighs, his laptop screen dark. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, and Luke’s eyes droop. He tilts his head to rest against Michael’s. His breathing slows, posture relaxing, the world fading into a dream, until—

“Yo, Luke!” 

Luke startles at the voice. Michael jerks awake. He looks around, sitting straighter. Luke suddenly feels cold as Michael draws away from him. Michael meets Luke’s eyes, face growing red immediately as he realizes he’d fallen asleep against him.

Luke looks for the source of the disturbance, finds Calum standing at the hall entryway, looking smug. He looks at Calum’s stupid self-satisfied smirk and tries to explode him with his mind. 

Michael’s already gathering his things. Luke tries to offer him a smile, but Michael’s in a rush and he won’t look at him. 

“Michael, I—” Luke tries, not even knowing what he’d say. 

“I have to…um,” Michael gestures vaguely at the stairwell up to the dorms, gripping his bag and laptop to his chest. “Yeah. See you around.”

“See you around,” Luke replies automatically, but Michael doesn’t stay long enough to hear it. He’s already halfway up the stairs by the time Luke registers he’s gone. 

He looks back at Calum, and if looks could kill.

 Calum holds his hands up. “I didn’t know he was asleep.” 

“Delete my number,” Luke tells him. 

—

It’s astounding how Calum’s still alive and breathing, considering just how many times Luke’s tried to kill him over the past week. 

Calum looks at Luke with the most shit-eating grin every time they pass Michael on campus. Ashton’s been let into The Couch Incident, as Luke’s been calling it, and now he’s also taken to grinning at Luke whenever Michael is around. Luke is seriously considering buying rat poison for his traitorous friends. 

As for how things are with Michael…Luke can’t really put it into perspective for himself. It’s a bit odd—both good and bad. 

Good because Luke and Michael will occasionally catch each others’ eye from across a room, and both of them will blush bright red. Luke seems to almost gravitate towards that spot on the loveseat in their dormitory hall. His heart races each time his phone dings a notification alert, because he keeps expecting to see a message from Michael. 

On the downside, it’s weird because despite all this, Luke’s barely spoken two words to Michael for the past week, because each time he tries, he thinks of The Couch Incident, and how his breath had fluttered in his lungs from Michael’s weight, his warmth. He knows, looking in Michael’s eyes, that he’s thinking of it too, and so their conversations consist of awkward stuttering and clumsy small talk. They’re too flustered to talk about The Incident altogether. Or about what it means. 

Luke’s conflicted. He can’t…be feeling this way around a vampire. He’s falling for Michael’s mind-control tricks, even though he knows it. Some part of him maybe even wants to fall deeper still, and despite all his hesitation, that part is beginning to win out over everything else. 

Calum and Ashton notice, obviously. And that’s how they’re here: on the same picnic table on the campus lawn where it all began. Luke’s eyes flit to that spot under the tree, where he’d seen Michael strumming his guitar. It’s unoccupied this time around, and the emptiness tugs strangely at Luke’s heartstrings. 

“Luke,” Ashton guides Luke’s attention towards him. “Mate, what’s the plan now?” Luke knows he’s referring to Michael. Calum leans on his elbows against the table, and Luke childishly frowns at him. 

“I don’t know,” Luke says. “I haven’t finished my investigation yet.” 

Ashton sighs, but Calum clears his throat, a little awkwardly. 

“So, um,” he says conversationally, tracing the cracks on the wooden table with his fingertip. “Why don’t you just finish it?” 

Ashton opens his mouth to say something, but Calum nudges him, and some kind of understanding seems to dawn in his eyes. 

“You…uh…you got any more vampire tests left to run through?” Ashton prompts. 

Luke looks between them. He thinks of Michael.

Pale, pretty, tall Michael, with the lovely green eyes and the fresh pink lips and the calloused fingertips and the sharp fangs…and maybe Luke does have another test to run through. Something better. Something bigger. 

He steels his resolve and looks between his friends. 

“I’ve got…I’ve got one last card left to play.” 

—

He catches up to Michael after one of the classes they have in common. Michael’s shoulders are tense, even as he turns to meet Luke with a smile. Luke’s brain kind of melts out of his ears. 

“What’s up?” Michael asks.

Just spit it out, Luke tells himself. 

“You should come over to my dorm tonight!” Luke says, and it comes out high-pitched and loud. A small group of girls walking past them pause and look over, giggling. 

Michael’s cheeks take on a soft pink tint. “Uh.” 

“I mean,” Luke flails. God, he should've really thought this through. Rehearsed in front of the mirror or something. “I mean. I was thinking, like, pasta?” 

“Wait, I don’t—” “I can cook! I want to…I want to cook for you.” 

Michael smiles, cheeks flushing further. “Right, but, are you—” 

“If you’re busy, we could just—” “No, Luke, I’m not busy, but—” “Great!” Luke says. “So, like, seven tonight? My dorm?” 

Luke begins walking backwards, away from Michael before he says something stupid, or before Michael can change his mind or something. And he’s looking at Michael’s flushed cheeks, the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, how he bites his lip, and all of a sudden Luke realizes he forgot to actually ask the pivotal question. 

He stops in his tracks. 

“Oh my god,” he manages, thankfully still in earshot of Michael. “I was asking you out. I forgot to ask you out.” His cheeks flare hot as Michael laughs, and Luke’s eyes snag on his canines. 

“I did this all wrong,” Luke says, blinking fast. “Oh, this is horrifying.” 

Michael draws closer. “I’ll go out with you, blondie,” he says, grinning. “But you gotta ask me the right way.”

Luke knows he’s just teasing, but butterflies erupt in his stomach nonetheless. 

“Michael,” Luke says, drawing in a breath. “Can I take you out on a date?” 

“To your dorm?” 

“To my dorm.” 

Michael’s eyes are alight with amusement. With something like fondness. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.” 

—

When Luke lets Michael into his place that evening, he’s buzzing with anxiety and apprehension. He’s got a little kitchen island, where he serves Michael his best wine, and flits around the kitchen preparing what he hopes is his best pasta recipe to date. 

It’s good. It’s really good, in fact. Luke and Michael fit together like puzzle pieces, like stars orbiting each other. Luke’s heart is in his throat the whole time, because there’s a glowing warmth in his chest and he can’t stop looking at Michael, taking in the way his hands move as he speaks, the way he licks his lips, the way he throws his head back and laughs fully. 

Ultimately, Luke puts a plate of pasta before Michael, and sits opposite him with his own serving. It turned out wonderful, creamy and perfectly supple. Luke’s really proud of himself. 

“It smells amazing,” Michael says. “What’s in it?” 

Luke rests his chin on his knuckles, smiling. “Try it.” 

Michael arches an eyebrow. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you not to poison me,” he jokes. 

“Oh, I would never,” Luke plays along. 

Michael chuckles to himself, picking up a fork. He goes to take a bite, when Luke suddenly sits up straighter. He gathers his resolve, then decides: no better time than now. 

“Wait!” Luke exclaims, and Michael’s fork stops in the space between his plate and his mouth. “Before you eat, I have a few things I want to…um.” 

Michael shifts in his seat, setting the fork down and giving Luke all his attention. Luke wonders if he can tell how Luke’s heart is racing, how his pulse flutters when he meets Michael’s eyes. 

“If…” Luke starts. “If you ever need a helping hand with your…um. Y’know. I won’t tell anyone.” Michael flushes. “Luke, I…” he seems to struggle with his words. Then:  

“Thank you, really, but I’m openly gay.” 

Oh. 

“Oh,” Luke says. “I knew that.” 

He did not know that. 

“I was just saying,” Luke continues. “Like…ifyouwanttobitemeyoucandothat.” 

There’s a stretch of quiet as Michael processes the words. And Luke’s sure now that Michael can hear his heart beating. They stare at each other, and the silence is almost suffocating in its awkwardness, especially because Michael’s gone a little red. 

“What,” he says. 

Fuck.

Luke says,“You can bite me if you want.” 

Michael says, “What.” 

Luke’s tongue suddenly feels really heavy. 

“I just—I was just saying that I can keep your secret!” he goes on, even as his brain is telling his mouth to shut up shut up shut up. “I know you’re a vampire and—like! I respect it! It’s totally cool!” 

Michael is quiet for a moment, his eyes flitting between Luke’s own. 

“Why…” he starts carefully. “Why do you think that?” 

Luke blinks. “Well, the…you’re really pale. And…your teeth—” “My teeth?” 

“ —they’re really sharp! And how…when you came to my dorm the last time, you asked for permission. And…your tumbler, how you said I wouldn’t like what you were drinking…like—blood.” 

Michael makes a face like he’s in pain. Even as Luke speaks, he can hear just how silly he sounds, but his brain isn’t sending the right signals to his mouth because he can’t stop speaking. “And when I wore those…low cut shirts. You…my neck…” Michael’s cheeks flare a vibrant red. 

“Luke,” he says, and his voice is strangely high-pitched. “That day, I was—I was drinking vodka mixed with redbull.” 

Luke gulps. Oh, fuck you, Ashton Irwin. 

“And your shirt…” Michael clears his throat, fingers coming up to fiddle uncomfortably with his earlobe. “Um…you just—you looked really good in it. That’s…that’s why.”

Right. Okay. 

Luke looks down at his plate, blushing so hard his cheeks kind of burn from it. He kind of dies right there on the spot and then revives himself in under two seconds, which is a new record for him. 

Michael sits back a little and looks at Luke through knitted brows. 

“So,” he says. “When you did all that, you weren’t…flirting?” 

“Um, no, I was,” Luke bites his lip. “I was collecting evidence.” 

Michael exhales, and his eyes flash a mixture of confusion and amusement and…something else. Luke can’t breathe. Reality hits him like a truck. Michael isn’t a vampire. Luke just wanted him to be because he couldn’t explain his sudden intrigue in the man. 

“Luke,” Michael says, voice strained as he leans forward and squints into his plate of pasta. “There’s garlic in this, isn’t there?” 

Luke shrinks under the weight of Michael’s gaze, under his words, under the veil of his own stupidity. “Yes,” he manages, voice small. 

Michael huffs a laugh. “Wouldn’t that technically be poisoning me?” 

“Well, are you a vampire?”

He can’t keep the bite out of his voice, but Michael takes it in stride. He stands up and crosses over to sit near Luke, so close that his knees brush Luke’s, and there’s that radiating warmth again. 

Michael leans in close. 

“No,” he says, sly grin parting his pretty lips. “But I can bite if you ask real nice.” 

Luke stills. 

Oh, this is it. I’ve died. I’ve died and gone to hell. 

He flushes all the way down to his toes. “Don’t—don’t make fun of me.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because.”

Luke inhales sharply, turning fully to face Michael. “Because I really, really liked you for months and I looked for you in every room and I waited up for your texts—and I thought it was because you were an evil supernatural bloodsucking soul-eating ghoul.” 

Michael lets the words hang between them. His hand comes to rest on Luke’s knee, warm and grounding. “Well, you’re not wrong about the ghoul part.” 

“Michael.” 

Michael laughs, throwing his head back, bursting at the seams, and it’s such a gorgeous sight that Luke can’t help meeting him where he’s at, mirth spilling from his lips like honey. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Luke says. “Can you kiss me now?” 

“Mind the fangs, will you?” Michael mocks. 

Luke rolls his eyes and drags Michael in by the neck, pressing their lips together. Michael smiles against him, leaning in, pulling Luke closer with a hand on his waist. Luke runs his tongue along the line of Michael’s teeth, swallows his melodic gasp, and thinks: 

Thank fucking god for vampires. 

—

Luke 

so Michael is not a vampire 

i just really wanted to kiss him 

Calum 

@ Ashton thats 10 bucks 

Ashton 

Oh

Fuck vampires, mate 

—

[babylonradio]

just thought I would ask cause I’m crazy. would you ever consider writing mawsten

hell yes. i just need to think of a storyline

[babylonradio]

let it all out — luke x ashton

MDNI—18+

ashton's unfounded frustration is throwing off the rhythm of the band. luckily, luke has a way to help. if only ashton would give in.

warnings: top!luke hemmings. bottom!ashton irwin. smut. banter. angry sex (kinda). first time bottoming. blowjobs. anal fingering. anal sex. hair pulling. hints of past ashton x luke. just a touch of ash's daddy kink. teasing. role reversal. crying during sex. restraints. orgasm delay/denial. begging. kinda ooc. basically both of them wanna dom and they fight it out. not proofread!

wc: 6.1k

request: lashton with both of them usually preferring to dom, but then they clash and try to get the other to sub to them and end of the story we get pathetic whiny crying sub ash?

author's note: this is all thanks to this video of ashton. just needed to see him crying icl. thank u anon for the request!! sooo sorry but im not happy with this at all :( it's not very good but!! atleast its out !! let me know what u think :3

also this is loosely based on a fic i read a while ago, but i absolutely can't remember what it was :( pls reach out if u know which one i'm referring to!

inbox n requests are open!

come find me on twitter!

It’s been a terrible day—a terrible week, even—and they’ve just wrapped on a photoshoot for some magazine, but Ashton’s got makeup all over his face now, and all he wants to do is get up to his hotel room, wash it off, and go the fuck to sleep. 

It’s been this way for the past week and a half. He can’t play right. It’s led to an odd frustration buzzing underneath his skin, inching outwards, until there’s a visible touch of tension, of underlying aggression in everything he does. He’s spent most of the past few days moping and sulking, and his bandmates have obviously noticed. Usually, they’d leave him to it, to vent out all his annoyance on his drum kit, but they’re all on the move now, and he won’t have access to his drums until rehearsal the next week. Instead he spent an hour at the gym this morning, but if anything, that only made him sore and irritable. 

He’s jittery throughout the elevator ride up to his room, and it earns him a dirty look from the old lady standing beside him, decked out in pearls or whatever. He ignores her. The doors are barely open before he’s shooting out of the lift, power-walking to his door, and swiping his card so hard it nearly snaps. 

Immediately, he’s slipping off his jewellery. He tosses the bracelets and rings onto the dresser. If they roll off and drop onto the carpet, that’s a problem for tomorrow. His skin is tingling, irritation crawling up and out from the base of his spine. His fingers feel raw, constrained, full of an anxious energy he can’t put a name to. 

He’s just about to tug his shirt over his head and throw it across the room when there’s a demanding knock at his door. He groans audibly, almost ignores it until it comes again, louder this time. He stomps across the room to tug the door open, childishly. 

“What?” he snaps, without looking at who it is. 

It’s Luke. He’s wearing a bored expression, no longer in his costume from the shoot. Instead, for some fuckin’ reason, he’s dressed in a button up and a loose tie. His dark hair catches the hallway light as he tilts his head, infuriating amusement glinting in his eyes. 

“Cal and Michael are going out for drinks,” he replies. “I told ‘em I’d go if you’re going.” 

“I’m not going," Ashton replies simply, and goes to shut his door in Luke’s face. 

But there’s something obstructing it. He looks down to see Luke’s stuck his foot between the doorframe and the edge of his door. He lightly shoves at the door, and steps in past Ashton with his hands in his pockets. Like he owns the place. It pisses Ashton off to no end.

“Luke—” Ashton starts, but Luke’s already in his room now, and if there’s one thing he knows about Luke, it’s that he can’t kick Luke out unless he goes willingly. 

“You’ve been a little tense lately,” Luke says. It’s an observation. He doesn’t imply anything, doesn’t offer anything. He strolls lazily to the minibar in the room, looking over the assortment of liquors. 

Ashton shuts the door and sighs. “Mate, I’m really not in the mood f—” “Whiskey?” Luke interrupts. It irks Ashton. His jaw clenches. 

“No.” 

“Suit yourself,” Luke shrugs. He tugs the bottle from the lineup and gets to work unscrewing the lid.

“What do you want, Luke?” Ashton grits, trying to keep the annoyance, the exhaustion out of his voice.

There's silence. Luke lets the question linger so long that Ashton questions whether he even heard. Then, 

“At our last rehearsal,” Luke starts, distracted with his fucking bottle of whiskey, like Ashton’s not worth his time. “You ripped the snare.” 

It’s not an accusation, but Ashton inhales sharply at the words. Yeah, he remembers that all too well. He’d been struggling to stay on beat, which was fucking embarassing because he’s half the rhythm section. The drumstick slipped from his hand, and his fist went straight through the skin of the drum. 

“What about it?” Ashton says, fighting the agitated blush as it creeps onto his face. 

“I don’t really know what's up with you,” Luke goes on, finally uncapping the bottle and measuring out a single. “But you’re throwing off the rest of the band.” Ashton knows Luke doesn’t intend to get on his nerves. He’s only looking out for their functioning as a team. They talk to each other in such plain terms often, especially when it’s important to their music, their performance. That knowledge doesn’t prevent Ashton’s fists from tightening in a foreign irritation, one he hasn’t really felt towards Luke before. The suave lilt of his voice, the relaxed curve of his shoulders all seem to suddenly be getting to Ashton. 

“I’m—” Ashton pauses to inhale deeply, to hold back from exploding. “I’m working on it.” 

“Try to speed up the process,” Luke says. His stubborn refusal to meet Ashton’s eyes is extremely aggravating. 

Ashton draws closer to Luke, if only to see over his shoulder, to see what’s taking him so fucking long to pour out a glass. He knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t trust himself to be thinking straight right now. All he feels is this sharp, stinging frustration. 

“What are you trying to say?” he manages, irritation evident in his voice. 

He hears the clink of ice falling into a glass. 

“Rehearsals are going to shit,” Luke says. “The tour starts soon. You need to be able to keep up.” 

Ashton steps closer. He’s nearly breathing down Luke’s collar now. 

“You think I can’t keep up?” His voice is lower, gravelly. Almost threatening. 

Luke seems unfazed. 

“Not what I said,” he says. God, he’s really getting on Ashton’s last fucking nerve. “But if you’re okay with playing mediocre music, then—” 

Ashton threads his fingers into Luke’s hair and tugs, hard enough to sting. His head falls back against Ashton’s shoulder, and he laughs upon a moan. 

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re mouthing off to—” 

“Thought I was being pretty clear, actually.” 

“Watch it,” Ashton warns. “Getting a bit too brave, aren’t you?” 

Luke only chuckles. His hand travels along the seam of Ashton’s jeans to cup him through his jeans. Palms him through the rough denim. Ashton hisses through his teeth at the feeling. 

Luke turns in Ashton’s grip to face him, eyes hooded, wearing a smirk. “Y’always this sensitive?” 

Ashton tightens his hold on Luke’s hair. Luke’s mouth drops open, a silent expression of pain. Still, he grins like he’s winning. 

“What’s this?” Ashton taunts, surprised. “Where’s the little Luke I used to bend over my lap back then?” 

Something like anger flares in Luke’s eyes. He pitches forward, fighting Ashton’s hold, to take his bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down. Ashton laughs, the pain satiating something in his belly. He leans into Luke, into his touch, and his fingers slip from his hair to tug at the tie around his neck as he licks into the younger man’s mouth. It’s an angry kiss, something primal and raw. Their teeth clash, breath mixing into groans as they push back against each other. It’s like fighting. Like being in love. Like fucking. 

Luke’s index finger goes around Ashton’s belt loop, and he pulls at it harshly. It briefly throws Ashton off balance. He pulls back. 

“Get on y’fucking knees,” Luke spits, eyes dark. 

Ashton bites back a laugh. “Aw,” he mocks. “Gonna put me in my place?” Luke’s jaw tightens, even as his palm comes to cup Ashton’s jaw. 

“Baby,” he breathes. “You’re gonna be begging for my cock by the time we’re done.” 

“That a challenge?” “It’s a promise,” Luke’s lips curl into a smirk. “Now get on your knees like a good boy, daddy.” 

It strikes a nerve. Ashton wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Luke has never—Luke doesn’t do dominance. He takes Ashton’s cock and cries around him and writhes and moans, he doesn’t…this is new. 

Ashton kind of wants to see where it goes. It’s funny, almost, how Luke thinks he can take charge. Ashton eases down to his knees, grinning up at Luke the whole time. He’ll let Luke have this. It’ll only make it twice as fun to put him back in his place later tonight. 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, baby,” Ashton smirks smugly—condescendingly—up at Luke, who cards his fingers through Ashton’s hair. “But it isn’t going to work.” 

“Yeah?” Luke tilts his head. Ashton gasps harshly when Luke presses the sole of his shoe into his crotch. “Then why are you hard?” 

Ashton’s heart races, cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he grasps at Luke’s ankle, trying to get him to take the pressure off. When Luke doesn’t budge, Ashton slides his hand further up and cups Luke’s dick, squeezing hard enough for it to hurt. Luke winces, inhaling sharply. 

“What about you?” Ashton mocks. “Y’like having me on my knees like this? Fuckin’ freak.” 

Luke moves his foot from Ashton’s lap and leans in close. He grabs Ashton by the jaw, hard enough to force his lips open. Immediately, he shoves his thumb into Ashton’s mouth, tracing the line of his gums. 

“Open wide, princess,” Luke says. He pushes his thumb further, pressing down on Ashton’s tongue, forcing his mouth open. Unhurriedly, he unzips his trousers and pulls himself out. Hard and leaking, the tip flushed a pretty pink, Ashton’s mouth waters at the sight. 

He presses a faux-gentle kiss to Ashton’s cheek, then nips at his ear. 

“Mind the fuckin’ teeth,” he says, before feeding himself fully into Ashton’s mouth. 

Immediately, it’s a struggle. Luke doesn’t give him time to adjust, to catch his breath. His cock hits the back of Ashton’s throat, and he gags, tears springing to his eyes. Ashton brings his hands up to grip the back of Luke’s thighs, to try to control the pace—but Luke only chuckles under his breath. 

“Too much for you already?” he says, mock-pity dripping from his tongue. “Aw. What happened to all that bravado?” 

Luke uses his grip on Ashton’s hair to tug him up and down over his cock. Spit gathers in Ashton’s mouth, dribbles down his chin as he glares up at Luke. His throat tightens every time Luke pushes a bit too far, and he’s struggling to breathe from his nose. He tries to say something, to push Luke away, but his hold is incessant. 

“What’s that?” Luke laughs. “Can’t hear you. Too busy gagging on my cock, aren’t you, princess?” 

Ashton swirls his tongue, trying to open up his airway, but Luke just drops his head back and groans deeply. 

Fuck, it pisses Ashton off—to be used like this, to be looked down at, to be talked to the way Luke’s talking to him. It’s humiliating. His face is flushed—from anger, shame. Lack of oxygen. 

“God, you take it so good,” Luke bites his lip. “Who knew it was this easy to get you to shut the fuck up?” 

Ashton groans something low and threatening around Luke, and it only eggs him on. His pace increases, fucking into Ashton’s throat with a desperation that steals the air from his lungs. Ashton chokes, chin soaked with spittle. He tries to focus on catching his breath, on inhaling through his nose. 

But there’s a fuzzy glaze to his thoughts. The stretch of his jaw feels strangely relieving, and he presses the heel of his hand against his own erection, blinking through the tears. 

“Shit,” Luke says, and the tears gathered on Ashton’s lashline slip down his cheeks involuntarily as he tries to meet Luke’s eyes, tries to convey how fucking scared he should be for how Ashton’s going to return the favour. But Luke’s blind to the heat in Ashton’s gaze. “Look so good with my cock down your throat.” 

His thrusts grow desperate, and Ash can tell he’s close from the way his balls tighten, the way his gasps turn into something more frantic. 

He curses under his breath, and Ashton scrabbles for grip along his trousers as Luke leans into him, Ashton’s nose pressed to his belly as Luke comes down his throat without warning. 

He pulls out almost immediately, and Ashton gasps for breath. Luke’s cum splatters from his mouth, and he turns to the side to spit it out—but Luke takes hold of Ashton’s jaw again, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Swallow.” 

Ashton’s eyes shine with tears, with a sullen disdain for Luke that he hasn’t felt in years, along with a burning arousal that circles low in his stomach. He pants, lips shut thanks to Luke’s hold on him as he glares dagger at the smirking man. 

Two can play this game. 

Ashton moves quickly, swiping a leg under Luke so that the man loses his balance. He lands harshly on the carpet, in a way that undoubtedly hurts. Before Luke can get his bearings, Ashton crawls over him, pressing him down to the ground with a hand on his sternum. Luke chuckles up at him, but Ashton can feel his heart racing underneath his palm. 

He claims Luke’s lips, pinning him to the carpet as he parts his lips, lets Luke taste himself as he passes his climax into the other’s mouth. He pulls back, wiping the residue from his chin as Luke stares, wide-eyed, up at him. “How’s it taste, sweetheart?” 

Luke goes to protest, to rise on his elbows, but Ashton covers his mouth with a hand. 

“Thought I was supposed to be ‘begging for your cock’?” Ashton pouts. “Bit full of yourself, no?” 

Luke frowns at him, clearly trying to speak, but Ashton adjusts his grip. “I’m tired of hearing your fuckin’ voice, actually,” he says. 

Instead, he shoves his leg between Luke’s thigh, putting his other hand on Luke’s hip to press him down. Luke drops his head back, and Ash moves his hand down to unbutton Luke’s shirt, hiking his knee higher. 

“Yeah?” Ashton prompts. “All fucking smug until I get my hands on you, huh?” 

“Fuck you,” Luke spits. 

“That’s the plan.” 

Luke bites his lip, and Ashton wants to lick up the line of his throat. His hips jump, rolling down against Ashton’s leg. His cock is chubbing up again between them. 

“Look at you,” Ashton tuts. “Grinding on my thigh like a fucking slut. Gonna give in so easily? Let me win? Pathetic.” 

Luke bucks up again, hard, and his leg finds Ashton’s neglected cock. The sudden stimulation has him moaning, his defenses momentarily dropping. Luke takes advantage of the moment to flip them over, manoeuvring them so that Luke’s straddling Ashton’s thighs. 

Ashton’s hands immediately go to Luke’s hips. “Not opposed to this view,” he grins. “Have you bouncing in my lap by the end of the night.” 

Luke laughs, not with, but at Ashton. His hands grip Ashton’s wrists, pin them above his head with surprising strength. 

“Shoved my dick down your throat and you’re still talking,” Luke says, hands sliding under Ashton’s shirt, up, up, up. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

“Shut the fuck up for once, and maybe you will.” 

Luke tugs Ashton’s shirt over his head, and leans in to make out lazily with him as he brings it up and off—except when Ashton tries to put his hands on Luke again, he realizes he can’t. 

“What the fuck,” he says, tugging at the restraints around his wrists. “Did you just—” 

“Nice and tight, isn’t it?” Luke grins. He’d somehow used Ashton’s shirt to tie down his hands. Ashton tests the give, but the knot holds tight. 

But then Luke is kissing down Ashton’s chest, undoing the buttons on his trousers. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Luke tells him, tugging Ashton’s trousers down along with his boxers. Ashton’s hard, leaking already as he’s exposed to the cold air of the room. 

“If you wanted to suck my cock, you could’a just asked, baby,” Ashton grins. 

Luke meets his eyes, smiles like he’s got a terrible secret, and suddenly Ashton’s stomach is swooping in anticipation. In something like anxiety, fear. 

“Who said anything about sucking your cock?” 

His head disappears between Ashton’s thighs. 

“What are you—” 

He’s cut off by his own gasp as a wet tongue licks over his rim. Immediately, his thighs try to close over Luke’s head, but the brunet puts his hands under Ashton’s knees and spreads him open further. A violent red tinge rises to his cheeks. 

“Luke,” Ashton breathes. “Luke.” 

Because he can’t find anything else to say—because he’s ashamed, enraged, so fucking turned on he can’t see straight. 

“Yeah, say that again,” Luke says, sitting up. He grins at Ashton, but there’s no humour, no kindness in his eyes. “With feeling this time.” 

Ashton seethes. He wants to spit at Luke, get out of these fucking restraints around his wrists, remind Luke who’s really in charge. But Luke is looking at him like he’s prey, and suddenly Ashton feels very cornered.

Luke’s finger is rubbing loose circles around Ashton’s rim, spreading the wetness there as it seeps into his skin. It’s like a threat, the almost-pressure. Ashton nearly flinches away. 

“God, you’re—” Ashton says, fighting the heaviness of his tongue. “You’re going to fucking regret this.” 

Luke presses into Ashton—barely past the first knuckle, just a taste of what’s to come. But it's dry, and the pad of his finger is rough. It stings faintly. Ashton bites back a surprised gasp. 

“I am?” Luke questions, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Gonna make me pay? With your hands tied down? Your hole swallowing my fingers like it’s begging for it?” 

Ashton blushes furiously. He can’t bring himself to answer. 

“Or,” Luke continues. “You could always tap out.” 

He shrugs conversationally, like he isn’t easing his finger inside Ashton. Tap out. 

Yeah, fuck no. Ashton’s many things, but he’s not a fucking quitter. Especially with the brunet gloating like he’s winning a race. He stays silent, because he won't give Luke the satisfaction of a reply. 

Luke laughs under his breath nonetheless. Ashton keeps his eyes firmly fixed to the ceiling. 

Luke inches his finger further inside, and it nearly punches the air out of him. It's a foreign feeling, and even with just one finger Ashton feels full. He bites his tongue, overwhelmed. 

“So fucking tight,” Luke says, awestruck. Ashton steels his resolve, tries not to move at all, tries not to show Luke how much his touch affects Ashton. “Nobody ever touch you down here?” 

Ashton’s face burns. He looks to the side, resolutely avoiding eye-contact. 

“Ah,” Luke says, the arrogance in his voice evident as he speaks. “Poor Ashton’s never had a good hard fuck?” 

He leans in to pinch Ashton’s nipple, and the shock is so sudden that Ashton involuntarily whimpers. Luke laughs at the sound, even as Ashton internally curses. 

“I’ll be nice, princess,” Luke mocks. The nickname is pissing him off, but more than that, it’s going straight to his head. He’s turned on beyond belief, all his senses on fire as the blood rushes to his cock, as his mind zeroes in on Luke’s finger, unmoving inside him. 

Luke twists his finger, and Ashton shuts his eyes, exhaling shakily. He grits his teeth, his neglected cock throbbing between his legs. 

“Could fuck you dry,” Luke proposes, simply as though it doesn’t immediately scare the living daylights out of Ashton. “Make it hurt.” 

Ashton’s eyes fly open, and he meets Luke’s gaze, trying not to give away how fucking terrified he is of the idea. Arousal pools hot and urgent in his lower belly, and it’s confusing because all he wants is to pin Luke to the wall and fuck him like punishment, but his body responds to his touch with electricity. 

“I won’t though,” Luke says, drawing his fingers out. “Because I’m real fuckin’ nice, aren’t I, Ash?” 

“You—f-fuck—” 

“Nah, you wet my cock so well with your pretty lips,” Luke goes on. “I think you deserve a reward.” 

Luke coats his fingers in lube from a little packet he conjures from his pocket. Ashton’s entire body is burning up, his muscles tight with restraint. Luke’s finger nudges at his hole again, and Ashton drops his head back when Luke sinks in till the knuckle. He tries to remind himself that he doesn’t want this—that he’s on top, he keeps control, he holds it all together. 

But Luke’s fingers are pumping in and out of him, and he knows he’s clenching down hard, but something inside him is pulsing and he needs Luke to reach it, to coax it out. Already, his cock is weeping against his belly, and Luke’s finger is stubbornly refusing to brush up against his prostate, exploring everywhere but where Ashton needs him. 

“Something wrong?” Luke grins. “You’re looking a little under the weather.” 

“Sh—shut the fuck up,” Ashton spits. 

“Out of steam already?” 

Ashton opens his mouth to bite back, but Luke curls his finger up sharply, simultaneously wrapping his lips around the head of Ashton’s cock and sucking. His hips buck up, further into that wet heat, but Luke pulls away almost immediately. His finger brushes against Ashton’s prostate, teasing, and his head spins.

“Luke, I’m gonna…” Luke massages Ashton’s walls, his hand coming to wrap around Ashton’s dick. He strokes in quick pulls, and it’s too much, it’s too much. Ashton’s head spins, his back arching as he thrusts into the grip, so near to it, almost there—

“Ah, I’m so close, keep going—” 

And then Luke’s grip tightens around the base of Ashton’s cock, and he takes his finger out altogether. The burn is hot, bright, as Ashton’s pulled back from the edge of his climax. He breathes heavily, blinking at the ceiling. His mind clears. 

“Fuck,” he says, catching his breath, and because he can’t help himself: “Shit, I taught you well, huh?” 

Luke’s hand pumps his length twice, and the smirk is evident in his voice. “Gonna fucking ruin you.” 

Ashton laughs breathlessly. “I’d like to see you try,” he snarks. “Been waiting for a challenge all night.” 

He’s lying. Of course he is, but Luke can’t know just how deeply he’s been getting under Ashton’s skin.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, princess,” Luke says sweetly, but his voice is heavy with arousal. Ashton turns his head, chuckling into his shoulder. 

Luke’s finger returns with a renewed fervour. Ashton gasps, inhaling upon every moan that threatens to spill from his lips, but Luke’s relentless. 

When he adds a second finger, the stretch is gorgeous. Ashton’s back arches lightly. Luke immediately scissors his fingers inside Ashton. He feels exposed, looked at, far too splayed out. 

“Fuck, I want—”

“I think you’re forgetting you’ve got no power here,” Luke murmurs. The filthy squelch of his fingers fucking into Ashton fill the room. He avoids his prostate altogether, straddling Ashton’s legs to splay his other hand over Ashton’s chest, playing with his nipples. 

Already, Ashton is close again. Maybe it’s because he was dragged so suddenly away from it earlier, maybe because Luke’s hands are just that good, but Ashton’s vision is growing fuzzy around the edges. He blinks through it, laughs awkwardly at Luke’s words. 

“Yeah?” Ashton gasps. “So why are you—ah…rutting against my thigh like a bitch in heat?” 

Luke freezes, his subconscious thrusts against Ashton’s leg stopping altogether. Ashton laughs, unabashed, mocking. He tugs slightly at the ties around his wrists. 

“Jus’ say the word,” Ashton promises, “And I’ll give it to you so good you’ll feel me for da—” 

Luke twists his fingers cruelly. Ashton moans, high pitched and embarrassing. The pressure builds and builds, quicker, more desperate. Luke spreads his fingers, driving them into Ashton, alternating between aiming for his prostate and massaging his walls. Ashton plants his feet against the carpet, thighs shaking as he grunts and gasps, drawing closer to the edge, building, rising, growing—

Luke’s fingers disappear.

His approaching orgasm ebbs away like a sad little wave, and he whines—a pathetic sound, as he thrusts up, chasing the edge as it leaves him, too far out of reach. The coil in his stomach aches now, the sting of being denied for a second time sharper. 

He collapses back, brows knitted in frustration, and he registers the tears that have gathered along his lashes. His skin is tingling.

“Gonna give in to me?” Luke coaxes, stroking Ashton’s thigh placatingly. “Gonna let me take care of you?” 

Ashton gathers his wits, exhales through the haze of agitation. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Thats the plan,” Luke grins, mimicking Ashton’s earlier words. 

Immediately, Luke thrusts three fingers in. The pain is sharp, shocking, but it fades into something divine. 

“Shit,” Ashton moans. “Oh—fuck.” 

It’s impossible to think straight. Luke aims his fingers directly at Ashton’s prostate—quick, sharp stabs of stimulation, and Ashton rolls his hips, grinding down onto Luke’s fingers, tears gathering in his eyes again. 

“Ah—harder,” he gasps, and he hears Luke’s amused exhale. 

He can’t hear himself anymore, all his focus fixated on finishing, on chasing the high, tipping over the edge. His skin is on fire, his wrists burning as he struggles against the knot. Luke’s fingers are so good, so hot and fast inside him. The way he twists his twist, curls his fingers and presses into Ashton until he’s seeing stars. 

And every time Ashton feels it building inside of him, Luke’s fingers slow down, pull away, aim just past his prostate. It has Ashton’s breath hitching, his hands curling into fists, nails pressing crescents into his palms. 

Luke’s other hand comes to play with Ashton’s cock, and the stimulation is so jarring, like sparks along his skin—Ashton whines, frantic, and he’s so close. He turns his head into his shoulder to hide the tears—he’s so close. He’s on the verge of begging, all he wants is to finish, the pleasure blinding, hot and ice-cold at the same time. 

“L-Luke—” 

He’s trying to hide it, trying not to let Luke know how close he is to coming, but the brunet is rubbing incessantly at Ashton’s prostate, the grip of his other hand around Ashton’s shaft is so right, and he feels it then, the approaching wave, the blissful heat, the coil unfurling in his belly, and just when he’s on the cusp of it—

Luke pulls away. 

Ashton mewls. 

His shoulders shake as he chokes on his gasps, his mind fuzzy, thoughts scrambled. He feels entirely unraveled, shaking desperately, the muscles in his entire body aching with tension, with frustration at being dragged away from something so close, but just out of reach. 

“C’mon, princess,” Luke shushes him, palm traveling soothingly up and down the sensitive skin of his thigh. Ashton almost shrinks away from the touch, but Luke speaks again. “Feels good, doesn’t it? To get out of your head f’once? Focus on just how you feel?” 

“Sh-hut—d-don’t…” 

“Give in to me, baby,” Luke continues. Ashton tries to blink past the tears, but they’ve already slipped down his cheeks, and he burns with shame that Luke can see him like this, that Luke knows how it feels. 

Ashton can’t reply. Won’t. 

So Luke’s fingers thrust inside of him again, and Ashton’s back immediately arches. Again, there’s a foreign aggression to his pace, and Ashton’s barely recovered from his previous go, so his orgasm is already creeping up to him, his cock twitching, the muscles in his belly tight with anticipation. He can’t breathe, he can’t feel anything but the heat of his orgasm, the anxiety of being denied again because— 

He won’t last. He can’t…he can't let it be taken away from him again—he wants it so bad, and…he’s been so good, he’s listened to Luke, he’s cried nice and pretty for Luke’s fingers, he’s taken them so well, he—

Luke's touch disappears. 

Ashton sobs.

Luke’s touch is featherlight as he traces a finger up and down along Ashton’s cock, and the tears are falling freely now, his wrists aching from how badly he wants to reach out, to touch, and he’s heaving wet sobs, whimpering from the stimulation, little noises of protest, of plea. 

“Luke,” he gasps. “More.” 

Luke smiles. “There it is.” 

His touch withdraws altogether. Ashton whines because he’s worried Luke’s just going to leave him here for the rest of the night, wet and wanting and aching. But there’s a sound like a plastic wrapper opening, and then Luke’s hands are on Ashton’s thighs, spreading them open farther. The ache in his joints is delicious. 

There’s a weight, pressing against Ashton. Luke lines himself up, but just before he sheathes himself in, he stops. He looks at Ashton, reaching for him to tenderly wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

“Luke,” Ashton murmurs, and his voice is wrecked, broken. His lashes are clumped with tears as he blinks at Luke sitting between his thighs, just fucking teasing Ashton’s hole without doing anything.

“Beg,” Luke says, voice hard. 

Ashton exhales, cheeks burning. His mind is detached, but his skin is wet-hot, his muscles shuddering, and Luke’s almost inside him, he’s so close. 

Ashton tries to take Luke in himself by pressing his hips down, but Luke stops him with an iron grip. 

“Beg for it, Ashton,” Luke says. And, fuck—fine. 

“Please,” Ashton mutters, voice small, ashamed. He can’t meet Luke’s eyes. 

Luke grinds his hips forward, and his tip catches the rim of Ashton's hole. Ashton shudders, whimpering at the feeling. 

“Didn’t catch that,” Luke smiles, almost mercilessly. “Get fuckin’ loud. ‘Please’ what?” 

“Please fuck me,” Ashton gasps, but it isn’t enough. Luke slaps the outside of his thigh, chiding. 

“Shit—please fuck me, Luke,” Ashton says, closing his eyes to the humiliation. His voice shakes. 

“Yeah?” Luke prompts. He rolls his hips in intervals, and Ashton mewls at the feeling each time. Ashton’s gone fully, he just wants to come, and he’s not above begging. Not anymore.

“Fuck me,” Ashton gasps. “Please? Please…please, I just want to come, I just want—I want to come on your cock, Luke, I—” 

Luke pushes into Ashton in one persistent push, not stopping until his hips are flush against Ashton’s ass. The stretch is incredible, and Ashton feels so full, like a missing puzzle piece is falling into place inside him. 

“So fucking tight,” Luke grits, grip iron-strong on Ashton’s hips. 

Ashton can just hold on, pleas and incoherent words spilling from his lips as Luke draws out all the way, painfully slow. The emptiness returns, and Ashton shivers at how suddenly cold he feels without Luke inside him. 

Luke pushes in, a slow glide, slotting himself inside Ashton fully. Ashton’s mouth drops open in a high-pitched whine as Luke’s cock brushes against his prostate. He’s been near the edge for so long, he won’t last with the way uke’s moving, teasing and steady and slow. 

“Luke,” Ashton gasps. “Please, more, more.” 

Luke laughs. “Fucking greedy,” he says. “You’ll take what I give you.” 

Ashton’s head falls back against the carpet and his voice cracks upon a yelp when Luke pulls out, only to grind his hips inside again. He fucks Ashton deep, making sure he feels every inch, every bit of Luke’s cock that has him babbling with pleasure. 

There’s tears of frustration in his eyes. He knows he’s cried off all the makeup from their shoot earlier that day, and they only serve to make the tracks stand stark underneath his eyes. Luke rolls his hips into Ashton, and Ashton moves, trying to meet every thrust, trying to coax Luke to move faster. 

“Please,” he moans. He blinks at the ceiling, voice ragged, gone to the pleasure. 

Every time Luke aims at that spot inside Ashton, he shivers, letting out a garbled, shaky whimper. He can’t do much else but take it, let Luke have his way, take his own sweet time. 

“Touch me,” Ashton begs. “Luke…I—please, touch me.” 

Luke’s hips snap harshly into Ashton, tearing a wet gasp out of him. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it, baby,” Luke pouts. “You’ve been so bad today.” 

It stings. Not just Luke’s words, but the rejection, the teasing—the knowledge that he’s so close but he won’t get what he wants until Luke wants it too. He cries out, arms straining against the shirt holding him down. He’s saying something, but he can’t tell what it is, too lost to chasing what he wants. 

“No, I—I was—” But he doesn't have the words. It’s too much and not enough, his skin sensitive, sticky with sweat. Luke’s movements are corrupting his thoughts, all he can focus on is the steady push and pull, the angle of his cock.

Luke suddenly thrusts in hand. His hold on Ashton tightens, and his pace goes from a glacial slowness to a hurried, frantic one. His hips piston harshly into Ashton, abusing his prostate, and Ashton cries, sobs, mewls. 

“Thats it,” Luke coaxes. “Take it, baby.” 

Ashton writhes under him. Luke reaches down and plays with the head of his cock, and Ashton’s gone, he’s gone—

“All that pride,” Luke says, his voice winded. “All that bravado, but you’re just a slut for cock, aren’t you?” 

Ashton can barely hear him. But Luke takes his jaw, turns him so that he meets Luke’s gaze through a teary haze. “Answer me.”

“I am,” Ashton responds immediately. “I am, I am—all f’you…for your cock, Luke, I—” “That’s right,” Luke nods, and the sweat from his hair drips onto Ashton’s skin. “All you needed was a good fuck for y’to get that stick out of your ass, huh?” 

He fucks into Ashton without pause, never letting him catch his breath, chasing his own orgasm. 

Ashton is hiccuping through his tears, digging his nails into his hands as the pressure builds again, loud like a screaming in his ears, Luke relentless in his movements. 

Luke, terribly, horribly, slows his pace again, and Ashton’s eyes fly open. His hands scrabble for something to hold on to.”Please!” he cries, uncaring to how fucking embarassed he feels, because all he wants is to finish, to feel good. “Please let me, please I was—” “What do you say?” 

“I don’t know,” he says. He can’t think straight. Luke’s still got a hand around his dick, and its all too much, he can’t feel anything but the blinding pleasure, the desire to come. 

“Then you won’t come,” Luke says simply, hammering his hips into Ashton again. “No,” Ashton gasps. “Please, Luke. Please, I’m…oh, god.” 

He can’t think. He can’t…his mind is overheated, distracted, overheated by all the sensations creeping over his body. He searches blindly for an answer, and the fog clears, and—

“Thank you.” 

Luke smiles, like Ashton’s got it right. His grip tightens on Ashton’s cock, and he strokes him quick, matching his thrusts to the flick of his wrist on Ashton’s shaft. Ashton’s still speaking, the words lost to him as he spews some rendition of thanks, of apology, of plea. It’s sweaty, hot, and Luke’s hips stutter, and Ashton clenches down because he knows he’s right there, he’s right there—

He sees stars. He can’t get any air into his lungs, and he throws his legs out, arching his back as he comes, spilling all over his belly and chest. He feels it down to his toes and he shakes from the force of it, whimpering as Luke fucks into him a few more times, until he’s bending over Ashton and emptying himself into the condom too. They stay like that, breathing in each-other’s gasps, counting breaths. 

It takes him a while to come back, to open his eyes, and when he does, Luke’s still there. The brunet cards his fingers through Ashton’s hair as he wipes with a wet cloth between his legs. Ashton winces at the feeling, still sensitive. 

“How do you feel, baby?” Luke asks, meeting Ashton’s eyes. The snark, the arrogance from earlier is all gone, replaced instead with a tender earnestness. 

Ashton can’t help a smile. “Feel so fucking good…like, floaty.” 

A pause. 

“Can’t feel my legs.” 

It draws a laugh from Luke. Ashton’s never felt this way in his life. Like he’s lying on a cloud. Like he’s melting into the floor. He’s so relaxed. All his stress, frustration, worries are gone, leaving behind a sore, satisfied ache in his muscles. 

“You did that on purpose?” he asks Luke, as the brunet discards the cloth and crawls up to lie beside Ashton until he’s ready to stand.

“Worked, didn’t it?” 

“Asshole.” 

“I know,” Luke grins mischievously.  

They sit in silence for a while, Ashton counting Luke’s breaths, matching them to his own. 

“So,” Luke says, conversationally. There’s an undertone of something to his voice. “What you said back there…about me ‘regretting all this’...same time tomorrow?” 

Ashton wants to shove at Luke’s shoulder, but his limbs are jelly. He rolls his eyes, exhausted, exasperated. “Oh, fuck me.” 

Luke licks his lips, amusement glinting in his pretty blue eyes. “If you insist.” 

—

[babylonradio]

unbelievably totally obsessed with the way you write sub michael oh my god its amazing genuinely just binge read all ur fics on ao3 ur so good pls never stop writing

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭i'm so so glad you like my michael characterization 😭😭😭 he's my favourite member to write ... but u didnt hear this from me

[babylonradio]

not an ask, i just want to say that you fully deserve all of the love you’re getting right now, you so deserve it!! 🫶🫶🫶

you are the SWEETEST. thank you so much 🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶🫶

[babylonradio]

We always talk about vampire!micheal but when are going to talk about vampire!calum? Cuz i feel like out of the 4 calum has the most vampiresque vibe, like idk he just feel like the type to never really mention the fact hes, yknow, a vampire until smt happens and then theyre just like 'holy fuck youre a vampire' and hes just like *shrugs* 'yeah i forgot to mention that, sorry'

YES !!!! I AM WITH U ON THIS !!!!

- vamp!calum that woke up one day with incisors sharper than usual and an unquenchable thirst and decided "yeah ok i can roll w this"

- vamp!calum who dresses conservatively during the day and slathers himself in sunscreen, but nobody notices because he's got an exquisite tan anyway

- vamp!calum with a suspicious aversion to forks

- vamp!calum that shows up to the studio at the crack of dawn, ready with entire lyric sheets and melodies, and everyone assumes he's just a night owl

- vamp!calum that's loved by all the elders because he asks "can i come in?" at every doorstep, and they just assume he's got wonderful manners

- vamp!calum that isnt opposed to period sex. vamp!calum with a biting kink, but he stays latched to his partner's skin for juuust a bit longer than necessary

- vamp!calum that gets outed as a vampire to his band, but only because he slips up and says "thats not how it works" at a vampire movie, and the rest of the band are like "🤨🤨 how would u know"

this has the potential to be soooo silly. i love the way u think anon. we need more conversation about vampire calum

[babylonradio]

Her me out.. like just hear me out: mashton... w/ dom!michael...... AND, NOW U REALLY NEED TO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE, ashtoncest...

AM I ALLOW TO COOK? CUZ IF I AM I MIGHT DO A FIC BASED ON THIS

mashton with ashcest and dom!michael #YUM u COOKED and ATE that shit actually . please send it my way im sooo hungry

[babylonradio]

I've been lurking around twitter and I find it really funny how ever since the photoshoot dropped I've seen multiple people be like "yeah he needs to cry and whimper" and I'm not judging, I had the same thoughts but it's really fucking funny LMAO

I KNOW !!!! the entire tl for a solid few days was "ok i need to see him cry" . ashton irwin if u wanna make a few quick bucks i have a STELLAR idea for u my man

[babylonradio]

i just DEVOURED your entire malum fic in one sitting and your previous anon hit the nail on the head! i'm agreeing with all of their points (especially about how insanely gorgeous your smut writing is-holy hell) and would like to add that i'm now even more obsessed with Michael, which i never thought humanly possible. thank you so much for sharing your glorious talent and creativity with the world, we're all so lucky to be alive at the same time as you!!! 🫶🏻

i'm ALWAYS (!!) up for spreading the michael agenda. thank youuu soooooo much for reading !! i'm realizing i was pretty proud of that fic, and seeing people like it this much has me 🥹🥹🥹 you're amazing!!! thank you for this submission ilove u 🫶

[babylonradio]

This is more of a confession than a prompt/request but like... ever since the ashton photoshoot video was realeased all i thibk about is THAT STUPID THIBG. Like its getting seriously put of hand, i eat 'hmm how would he beg?' I go to the shower 'he defeninely whimpers alot' ive reached a point that i dont have peace in MY DREAMS!! Like, ive dreamt about writing him sobbing with pleasure, i dont even remeber what ship it was all that i know was that he as crying.. I CANR CONTROL MYSELF I NEED HELP!!!!😭😭😭 I NEED MORE OF HIM JUST BEING PATHETIC BUT I CANT WRITE RIGHT NOW CUZ IM SO FUCKING BUSY ITS DRIVING ME INSANE

...anyways, as u can see ive stopped behaving normaly about him, send some doctors to my house

anon i want u to know i kept this ask in mind while writing that sub!ash fic ... i haven't been able to stop thinking about crying sobbing begging ashton ever since THAT video came out 🤤🤤 u are absolutely so right by being abnormal about him . ashton irwin just has that effect on people

[babylonradio]

First time doing this ahh!! kinda nervous!! ohmygod I love love loveee all ur writing but lowkey hon mentions are three’s a crowd im such a sucker for brunet luke ughh and the fem michael one and michaelcest and the malum fic ugh i cant even choose (actually i can its three's a crowd)

And the mashton one omg same when michael goes “arms” that’s sooo real

But the real standout of your fics is the banter oh my goddd ive never seen someone who does it like you do ugh like this bit especially:

“What’s our next album called? What’s the lead single?” 

“It’s called ‘Eat Shit’ and the lead single is ‘Stop Asking Questions.’” I was CACKLINGGGGG

Ugh and I just finished reading the malum twoshot ohmygodddddd the characterisation, the cake banter I was cackling I love how u wrote lukes character and the bit at the end in the bar omg it was hilarious

in short I love ur writing smmm (and if you ever ever wanted to write anything more about brunet luke I would be soooo down)

im so so so beyond overjoyed and grateful that you enjoyed three's a crowd so much :,) it was really my first try at writing smut so i'm so shocked and glad at the positive responses towards that fic 🥹

and i'm so flattered you liked how i write banter!! i looove writing dialogue (and sometimes it's a struggle to write it) but it's such a relief that you think its so unique!!! ily anon 🫶

stay tuned for more brunet luke !! i'm not NEARLY done writing that guy just yet :P