#lulix

🌈 DECO KINGS 🌈

ig update: 페인트볼 준비하는 누나... 우리 모두를 이길거야 ㅠㅠㅠㅠ #straykids

translation: noona’s getting ready for paintball… she’s gonna destroy us all

I am slowly.... slowly getting through these, I’ve got one more to go.

15. A soft kiss, followed by an “I love you”, followed by an even stronger kiss.

Pairing: Felix/m!Detective (Lu Jansen)

Word Count: 760

---

Lucedio chances a peek across the counter to Felix, watching his hands press and pull away from the ball dough he’d given him a few minutes ago. His brow is creased in concentration, his tongue jutting out like a pale petal against his rich skin. The dough itself still looks like a rough, sticky mess by the way it clings to the flour and to Felix’s hands.

With a final frustrated huff, Felix slaps his hands against the dough and turns to him. “So does bread just look like slime before you bake it because, well, ” Felix points an accusing, dough covered finger to the formless lump. “It looks like a load of slime.”

A laugh tickles the back of his throat which he quickly shoves away. Lu steps in closer, a smile spreading across his lips at the nervousness that edges creeps into the draw of Felix’s brow.

He runs his hand up Felix’s arm, his smile widening at the way Felix absolutely melts at the touch.

“Felix, you’re doing fine, kneading dough takes time is all,” he glances at the counter. “And more flour. Sprinkle some on the counter and on your hands, it’ll prevent some of the sticking.”

They both look down at the same time at Felix’s hands. Bits of dough mottle his palm like a strange pale boils. Felix catches his eye again, a bright grin in place that has Lu transfixed. “Think it’s a bit late for that, yeah?”

“Well, maybe,” Lu laughs, his broad shoulders shaking. “It’ll stop it from sticking any worse, okay?”

“Right, got it!” Determination flares across Felix’s face as he shoves his entire hand into the open container of flour.

What happens next feels like it runs in slow motion. Flour flies everywhere like an exploding bomb, flour particles hanging in the area as they seek out every crevice and nook in the blast radius. When it finally settles, Lu stares wide eyed and slack jawed at flour that coats the wall mounted knife rack to the book he has spread out nearby to the front of Felix’s colorful shirt. Felix blinks, staring wordlessly at the fall out before looking down to himself, then at Lu.

He shoots him a sheepish smile. “Too much?”

And it is, gosh, it really is-- but it’s not just the flour. It’s the flour that speckles Felix’s cheek and the short coils of his hair that prompts his cheek burning grin and the way Lu can’t help but cup Felix’s face in his hands. Confusion makes the smile drop away and in between blinks it’s back, as sweet and as inviting as the first spring sun on winter chilled skin. Felix steps closer and there-- they’re pressed together, toe to toe, heart to heart.

Felix’s lips part, and that is a temptation that is too much. Lu slants his mouth over his in a feather light kiss. He kisses him with slow appreciation, with awe, wanting to savour this moment with all of his senses. The earthy smell of flour. The tickle of his hair on his forehead. The rush of heat that seems to spread from the center out across both their cheeks. A stuttering sigh follows him as they part, and the whispered--

“I love you.”

--comes as natural to him as running his hand over his hair when he’s nervous or bouncing on his left foot when he’s happy. An ingrained reaction, etched into the chemistry of his nerves and the fabric of his soul because to look into Felix’s face and drink in the wonder there is to see a reflection of the love he’s always wanted to have. Complete, generous. Overflowing. 

He doesn’t understand how Felix doesn’t seem to have a ceiling for the brightness that shines through. Felix takes his face in his, holds him like he is a man not made of muscle and sinew but of glass and ceramic, and kisses him again. Just as sweet as before, but so much more. His back hits the edge of the counter and Felix is there, in front of him, around him, kissing him in a way he’s never been kissed before. 

There have been kisses, and there have been people like Felix in his life, but there has never been someone like Felix who kisses him like he means to pull at the strings of his heart and tease out the sound of joy from his body.

✨ pairing: felix hauville x luce jansen

✨ rating: explicit

✨ word count: 1.3k

✨ warnings: light bondage, semi-public sex 18+ minors DNI.

my submission for @hotwayhavensummer's day 3 prompt: toys & bondage.

“Babe,” Felix whispers, sounding giddy, after an unintentionally loud moan. “You’ve got to be a little quieter than that.”

As if being quiet could be something so deceptively simple.

aussieracha — chris, lucy and felix.

bonus:

hi roo!! ☺️ thank you for the lovely prompt!

21. holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall

21. holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall

“—and then in the middle of the pack of wolves, Mason’s pants just RIP!”

Felix mimics the sound of fabric ripping (which is frighteningly accurate) as he carefully steps over a dilapidated dip in the wall. They’re out at the edge of town where only crumbling buildings from Old Wayhaven remain. Teenagers usually come here to use the broken walls for skateboarding or graffiti practice, but in the last hour of golden evening sun, it’s quiet and empty.

Luce has to tilt his head up to follow Felix with his eyes, the vampire having lept on the remnants of the old wall in the middle of his story. He smiles, keeping his grip on Felix’s hand secure as they stroll the length.

Just in case. Ready to tug Felix to his arms if he falls.

“Doesn’t Mason go commando sometimes?” Luce laughs. “I remember him alluding to that once.”

“Yep! He sure does,” Felix crinkles his nose. “Sure got a lovely view of his ass.”

“I guess you could say he really…”

Felix looks at him, eyes wide and curious and so terribly unprepared for his awful joke.

“...mooned the werewolves then, right?”

The laugh that rips from Felix is more of a choking honk sound. Kind of how he imagines a sick elephant might sound like. Felix pitches forward with the force of it and — shit, shit, Luce tugs him down harsher than he means to and the momentum of Felix falling into his arms sends them both tumbling to the cracked pavement.

They groan at the same time, same tone, same volume, same everything; Luce wonders about the article he’d read once about couples mirroring each other.

“Damn Luce that was bad, even for you. You’re lucky you’re cute enough to get away with it.” Felix laughs as he sits up.

“And I’m lucky I have a cute boyfriend that doesn’t hold my bad jokes against me,” Luce says with a bright smile, still on his back.

hey buddy! sorry this is.... very late! but i have finally finished these two boys having a good time together. :D

35. things you said at the top of your lungs

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Motorcycles let Luce taste freedom. 

Wind nipping at every inch of exposed skin. The red flare of tail lights of cars on the highway. Colors blurring together until all he could see is a smear of green against the wide arc of blue sky.

It’s rare he gets to bring out his bike now. Usually it’s kept in storage under a dust blanket and only gets taken out once to keep the battery alive. Makes those few and far between times he could sneak away from his busy schedule and take to the roads even more precious.

Now that he’s got Felix nestled behind him though? They’re highlights in his life.

Felix’s warm weight at his back contrasts against the icy air slicing through his jacket and sweater. Winter is only beginning to bow to the oncoming warmth of spring. Nights remain cold and in winter’s icy grip, yet.

Luce tilts his head up to the blanket of stars. Farther out from Wayhaven they’re clear, less obscured by the light pollution. Tonight is especially clear, not a cloud in sight to mar the twinkling stars overhead. Without the day’s traffic to slow them down, the bike takes the winding curves up the hills with ease until they slide to stop beside a site seeing spot partially hidden by dense pine.

By the time the bike is propped up safely against a tree, Felix is already at the stone wall protecting visitors from the cliff’s edge, eyes wide and reflecting more light than any number of the stars they can see. Moments like these, where Luce gets to watch Felix take in every little detail of what Luce shows him of his small corner of the world, are nearly sacred. Words aren’t needed and don’t belong, extraneous, annoying clutter to Felix’s awe.

Still, he’s more than happy when Felix turns those lovely amber eyes on him.

“Wow, I can see the whole forest from here! It’s gorgeous!” Felix glances to one of mounted scopes and gives it a playful flick. “No quarters needed.”

“Not all of us have impeccable vampire vision, Fel,” Luce crosses his arms along the edge of the wall as he leans forward. Miles of forest stretch before him. To his eyes, just a formless, dark shape, broken up only by the sky. “Still pretty, though.”

Taking his place, Felix bumps their arms together. “Yeah, damn pretty,” he whispers. “Say, you know we’re kind of close to the Warehouse…”

“Close?” Luce arches an eyebrow. The Warehouse is in this general area but well away from the main road.

“Close for us, babe,” a grin flashes between them. “Maybe even close enough for the others to hear if we yell super loud.”

Ah. A laugh bursts out, sudden and barking. How many ridiculous notions did Felix suggest that Luce would never have followed before? Taking a day trip out to the next town over with no plans, no itinerary, nothing but gas in the car and Felix’s camera to capture it all. Digging through the bargain DVD bin and picking one blindly and watching it together, cuddled under blankets, laughing at bad acting and poor shots.

Another whimsy, and who is he to say no?

Deep breath. Hands cupped around his mouth. Lean back.

From the depths of his chest.

“AVA IS A BUTTHEAD!” 

The shout bounces further, echoing out into the faceless night. Alongside its fading whisper, another joins it in Felix’s bright tones.

“AVA IS A BUTT!”

They’re laughing, the both of them. Laughing and yelling as loud as they can, their chants rippling with laughter until they’re bent over. Hoarse and misty eyed and bursting with nearly (only nearly so) painful joy. Heads touching, hands reaching out to each other for support. The forest sings with their echoing laughter instead.