muke lover

"You alright?"

"No," he grumbles, letting his head drop onto his arms as he all but collapses over the table, his dark curls falling all over the place. His body heaves with a sigh. You can't help but smile at how dramatic he gets.

"What is it, then?"

You walk over to him, burying a hand in his hair to scratch lightly at his scalp, and he sighs again. It sounds more appreciative this time. He says something, but his head is still buried in the fabric of his shirt, and you can't make out a single word. Carefully pulling at his hair, you make him pick his head up, an unreadable expression on his face. He gulps, audibly, before repeating himself.

"Can't get my eyeshadow right. Won't blend."

"Aw," you coo at him, lifting his face up higher with your finger under his chin. You study the make up on his face, immediately seeing where he was struggling. "Want me to help?"

His doe eyes speak for themselves.

You grab the eyeshadow pallette he'd been handling and the brush that would probably be a little more helpful than the one he'd been attempting to use, before motioning for him for sit up straighter. You just watch him, blinking up at you, for a moment, taking in his absolute beauty, his charm, everything about him that makes it so hard to concentrate on the task at hand. Then you try to get to work.

It's awkward. The angle is weird and the light doesn't quite work. You've never done someone else's make up before. You try to bend down to get more eye-level with the issue but then it's just his baby blue eyes staring right back at you and somehow that just makes it worse. So you make him tip his head back a little more but then everything just seems weird. You huff out a breath of annoyance.

Luke puts a stop to it.

In one swift motion, he grabs onto your hips, pulling you down onto his lap, making you straddle him, his hands coming to rest on your waist then. It takes your breath away, just for a moment, how close you are. His thighs against your ass. His arms lazily resting on top of your legs. His face right in front of you. You want to move in, smash your chests together until there's no breathing space left, but you resist.

Instead, you go back to the task at hand. It's easier this way; you're at the right angle, you're close enough. You're still blocking the light from the mirror behind you, but you make do. Nothing could get you to get back up again now. You blend his eyeshadow until you know he'd be satisfied with it, then go over with glitter, more than he would usually use, but you love the way his eyes sparkle in tandem with it and you can't hold back.

You're so focused on the task at hand that it takes you finishing it to realise a number of things.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. His breathing has become unsteady. You have move closer and closer, bit by bit, his face almost against yours. His hands are digging into your skin so harshly it might leave a bruise.

"All done," you whisper. "Pretty boy."

Luke gasps, his hands dragging you even closer on his lap.

"I think…" His eyes trail down your face until they settle on your mouth. "I think I want to try some lipgloss."

The invitation is clear enough that you don't hesitate. But you take your time all the same. Your eyes drift over his features, beautiful under the partially obstructed light, baby blues following your every move, lips slightly parted as your hand comes to rest on the side of his neck. You lean in, slowly, cautiously, until he grows restless underneath you. Then you put your lips on his, firmly, but just once, before pulling back. His lips now coated in your gloss.

Luke looks up at you with such innocent eyes, with such need for more, that you simply can't resist, your body lighting up and coming alive. Dragging him closer by the hand on his neck, you kiss him, fully this time, and he returns the sentiment, kissing you like a man starving, hands moving to your lower back to hold you steady, the slightest gasp escaping his mouth and inviting you to explore more.

You feel him underneath you, a twitch first, then steadily growing. There's heat between your own legs, a tightening knot in your lower stomach, a rising need.

You only part when you need to catch a breath. His face has reddened and you're sure yours isn't far off either. He inhales, on the verge of saying something, when you hear the door open behind you, a high-pitched 'Oh okay' in what can only be Michael's voice, and the door closing again.

"Fuck," Luke mumbles, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. His arms envelop you, hugging your torso close to his, and the slight movement of your hips has you shifting against his growing need, eliciting a low groan. "The things I'd do to you if I could get you undressed right now."

"Why can't you?" you tease.

"Mikey literally just walked in on us," he chuckles, but all it does it press your body harder against his.

"What if we did something we didn't need to get undressed for?"

He lifts his head, looking up at you through his lashes and you're about to melt.

"Surely you can't go on stage like this."

This time, you grind down on him on purpose, roughly moving against his hardness and he moans so, so sweetly that you know there's no way you're going to leave here without making him come.

"Yeah?" he pleads. "What are going to do about it?"

You repeat your motion, sliding perfectly on his laps, rubbing against his cock again and again. You've never been so glad he decided against his jeans today. The fabric of his trousers are thinner, give more room, and when you look down between your bodies you can see an almost perfect outline through the layers. It makes you want to get on your knees and tear his clothes off, but the rational part of your brain stops you.

Not here, not now.

"How is this?" you ask instead, pushing down on him again, feeling him against you so thick and long, you're sure your panties are soaking already. "Think you can get off for me like this?"

Luke's moan is less contained this time and you grab onto his head to angle it your way, pressing a silencing kiss to his lips.

"Talk to me, Luke."

You're already making a mess out of him. You can see it in the glaze in his eyes, in the frantic way his hands are scrambling for purchase on your body, how his hips are starting to meet yours halfway, rubbing himself against you.

"Yes," he sighs under his breath. "Yes, please, I can, just—"

"Just what, hm?"

You continue to ride him, watching how you're hitting all the right spots as he starts losing his composure.

"Can I touch?"

"Do it, baby boy."

His hands are on your breasts immediately, another deep groan escaping his throat as he kneads the flesh, getting lost in the sensations of you on him. He's buckling up into you as you try to keep some resemblance of a rhythm but you can tell he's getting closer. Closer to losing control.

"Come on, Luke. Come for me. Let me see how your pretty face falls apart. Don't even need me to touch you. Don't even need my hands or my mouth. So pretty, so desperate for anything at all. So hard for me. Come for me, Lu."

He does, then. He wants to bury his face in your shoulder, but you pull him back by the strands of his dark hair, making his head fall back instead, mouth open, eyes screwed shut. Silent moans on his tongue as he ruts against you, twitching until he's spent.

Luke is beautiful. Tangled curls and flushed cheeks. His eyes open slowly and you can't deny him another open-mouthed kiss. When you move away a little, getting some distance between the two of you, you can see the stain he left in his trousers, the dark material even blacker where he came, visual proof of your ministrations.

"Think you might need to change before stage," you giggle.

His gaze follows yours, taking note of the state of his trousers, then letting his head fall backwards again with a laugh.

"The things you fucking do to me."

"Yeah?" You perk up, peppering several kisses along his exposed neck. "Tell me all about it in the hotel when you get off stage?"

He grabs you again, squeezing your sides, holding the back of your head to press his mouth against his.