Souvenir [Complete]

Thirty-two. Definitely Not Vanilla

Luke loved sex. It was his favorite pastime. He found himself craving the days that Ashton and he were home at the same time. And when they were alone. Sweet, sweet alone time.

But with Luke working during the day, and Ashton working at night, he found that their small window of opportunity was right after Ashton sent the kids off to school, right as Luke woke up. In that two hour period after Luke had to wake up and before Ashton had to sleep, lied some of the best sex of his life.

They fucked in the shower. In the kitchen. On the couch. Over the washing machine. Luke was on his way to heaven and he couldn't stop cumming, and cumming, and cumming...

A month of quickies as a replacement for Luke's morning cup of coffee and he was suddenly no longer addicted to caffeine, but addicted to cock.

And it was funny, because he'd never really considered sex as a big thing before moving here, but with Luke's nineteenth birthday, something switched in his brain. He craved it at all parts during the day. Even inappropriate times.

In the middle of singing for some dead person's grieving family, Luke would find his mind would drift to how Ashton's fingers had yanked his hair back that morning.

He was always spaced out.

Michael came over in the middle of August. Summer in the city was hotter since the concrete bounced its sunlight around on the people on the streets. Luke was miserable even in short sleeves.

"This has to be the hottest place I've ever been," Michael whined as they finally got into the apartment.

"It's so dense." Luke sighed. "And the subway grates make it even hotter...but thankfully we have air conditioning in the windows." Luke cut on the window unit and raked his fingers through his lose blonde curls. "Not everyone is this lucky."

Michael sprawled out on the couch panting. "It's only ten in the morning," he panted.

"I know," Luke giggled. "Here, I've got some sodas in the fridge."

"You sound like an adult," Michael hummed.

"I feel like one," Luke cooed.

"Your own place, your own soda," Luke heard Michael, but he was already in the kitchen. "I don't cook every night, like my mom."

"I'm sure Ashton is thankful," Michael teased.

"Oh yeah. He's actually more of the cook," Luke hummed handing Michael the almost ice cold bottle of Diet Coke. "What he makes is really good as far as breakfast. And he makes enough for me to eat. He says he 'remembers what it's like,' like he's an old man or something."

"So you guys are serious then?" Michael cooed, placing the coke on his cheeks before ever attempting to open it.

"I am," Luke cooed. "But I'm not trying to push things. We need to spend more time together. I think we've spent a collective 72 hours together since we came here."

"Holy shit," Michael furrowed his brows. "And you're not worried?"

"Why would I be worried? We have different schedules." Luke hummed lightly, trying not to let Michael's noticeable anxiety influence his own—but he already felt a twist in his stomach. "But when we are together? The sex is amazing, Mikey. Like I didn't know normal people had sex like this."

Michael laughed out loud. "Holy shit! You finally figured it out? You know I thought it was a little pretentious when you would never talk about your sex life with me."

"I just don't think I was having good sex," Luke admitted. "I mean, I loved Brian, but I think he was a little too soft for my taste."

That seemed to have piqued Michael's interest. "He was huh? And Ashton is a hard hitter?"