panic ♡ muke

1 | the beginning of everything.

You’ve got a pretty kind of dirty face,

 

I can feel the darkness all around us.

The hotel bed is soft beneath me. It’s sometime in the middle of the night, but I still hear the cars roaring out on the New York City streets below us. I would probably be homesick right now, if not for the person grinding his dick down on top of my own. Michael Clifford. My fucking band mate and best friend, is on top of me. His blue hair isn’t visible in the darkness but I can imagine how it looks, sticking out each way, static and the heat of the moment taking its toll. I imagine his big green eyes, sparkling and darkened in lust. I imagine his hands, rough and strong, gripping my hips tightly as he pushes our crotches together.

The room is spinning and my skinny jeans are too fucking tight. I’m sweating and shaking, the breath hardly escaping my lungs at all. I feel Michael running his hands down my chest and slowly tugging at the hem of my flannel. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. But fuck, it feels so good. How can this feel so good?

And when she’s leaving your home, she’s begging you,
Stay, stay, stay, stay,

Stay

Michael’s hands are in my hair now, pulling it gently as his lips graze my jaw. I gasp at the sudden tingling in my scalp, and decide I can’t sit still any longer. I slowly start running my hands up Michael’s back and into his hair. He likes it, moaning into my neck and sucking the sensitive skin. I can tell it will leave a mark and feel my dick twitch at the thought. No one can know. No one can ever know.

“Fuck, baby,” Michael moans into my neck. “You’re so hot right now,”

I moan back in response, earning a giggle from his lips.

“You can’t even see me,” I half-mumble, half-laugh into the darkness. Michael only giggles again and I feel his lips gently touch my own, not fully kissing me, just sort of hovering above me, gently caressing his lips with mine. I’m shivering.

Every part of my body tingles. I feel electricity from my eyelashes to my toes. Michael’s breath is hot on my lips and feel him finally kiss me softly. His lips are so warm and soft, and when they touch mine everything else just melts away. The world literally vanishes. No bands, no crowds, no friends, no family, no fans, no drama. Just us. Just me and Michael and Matty Healy’s voice in the darkness.

 --

“LUKE. WAKE THE FUCK UP,”

Holy. Fuck.

I groan, slowly cracking an eye open. My eyes are quickly met with an open window and my band mate Calum’s face over my own. He looks annoyed. The sun is excruciatingly bright and I automatically pull the covers over my head, turning back into the mattress.

“Dude,” I hear Calum’s muffled voice through my thick duvet. I really just wish he’d go away so the redness in my cheeks could fade. He didn’t know what I dreamt, right? He couldn’t…unless I moaned out Michael’s name or something. Fuck, did I?

“Luke, I know you’re tired but I’ve just showered and you have to too. You stink, bro.” He says fondly, pulling the comforter off me and onto the ground before smacking me with a pillow. If Calum had heard me dreaming about fucking my best friend, he sure did a good job of hiding it.