Best Intentions > cake

⋉ twelve ⋊

a/n: typing with a bandaid on your thumb should be an Olympic sport tbh

also, there's implied smut in this, and answers to your questions :-) (well, most of them!)

It was around 6am when I left Luke's bedroom after another night with him. If I felt the need to leave, I liked to leave in the early hours of the morning instead of when Luke woke up. There wasn't really a reason other than the fact that the campus looked beautiful in the rising sun.

This morning, I decided to go by the front of the library, in the open, grassy area. Although it was a longer walk and it had been my turn to bottom, so it hurt my back a little, it was a prettier walk. The sun was rising from that side of the campus, and I wanted to see it.

I stood on the steps leading to the library, looking out onto the campus. The fountain hadn't been turned on yet, so everything was pretty quiet, save for the few birds and early rising students talking in low voices.

I looked over at the sun, the pink and yellow tints in the sky, before scanning the area. There were a few students sitting on the grass, two walking towards the art building, and one person was painting on an easel, just behind the fountain.

I frowned, going down the stairs and trying to discreetly approach the person. I couldn't see their body or face as they were hidden behind the fountain, but I could see their arm, covered in tattoos, flicking the paintbrush skilfully. Upon closer inspection, I realised that I knew those tattoos.

I stepped up next to him, coughing to make myself known before saying, "Good morning, Jake."

"Morning," he mumbled, not taking his eyes off his canvas.

I watched in silence as he painted, long eyelashes flickering as his eyes went from the sunrise, to his paints, to his canvas, and back. I watched the way his arm swished across the canvas delicately, precisely. I watched the way the colours of the rising sun painted his face just the same way he was painting them on the canvas. They got caught in his eyes, tangled in his blond hair pushed back into a knitted beanie, defined his slightly upturned nose, and emphasised his pink lips.

"Why are you out here so early?" I asked quietly, and he looked at me, rolling his eyes.

"I'm painting the sunrise," he explained, gulping when he realised my gaze was fixed on his lips.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, gaze moving to the painting briefly before returning to his eyes.

Maybe it was our peaceful surroundings that motivated me, since it definitely couldn't be my common sense. I raised a hand, placing it on his cheek. I expected him to pull away immediately, but instead, he leaned into my touch, visibly surprising us both.

I leaned forward, my nose bumping against his as his eyes slipped shut. I tasted the sunrise on his lips, letting the warmth of the new day engulf me.

Pulling away, I rested my forehead against his. Our breathing was heavy, despite the brevity of our kiss, and I opened my eyes to find his staring at me already, the colours of dawn reflecting in his irises.

"Please," I murmured, not really sure what I was asking for. I pressed my lips against his once more, feeling his fingertips trailing along my cheek, probably leaving pink and yellow stains on my skin, but I didn't mind.

His fingers dipped down, running along my jawline and exposed collarbone, and I shivered. Not due to the cold, but more due to the fact that his fingers were wandering along my skin, marking me, claiming me with the colours of a new beginning.

Within moments, his easel was folded, covered, and propped upon his back, and he was letting me guide him, pulling him to his own dorm room. He instructed me where to go with soft words and gentle tugs on my wrist.