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“Is there something going on between you and Eric?” Luke asks, glancing over at Assad, who is currently glued to his phone on the other end of the sofa, gnawing on his thumbnail to keep himself from smirking.
“Why do you ask?” Assad replies, not looking up.
“Well, for a start, the fact that he likes every single post anyone ever makes of you, every single time, within like, thirty seconds of them posting it.”
Assad huffs a little like he’s trying to brush it off, but it’s impossible to miss the way his eyelashes flutter as he sways nervously. “He does not.”
“He does!” Luke replies. “He’s got to have notifications on or something at this point. Either that or his entire fucking algorithm is just… Assad Zaman thirst traps.”
“Fiiiiiine, okay, yeah,” Assad says, wiggling even more as he tucks his socked feet up under him.
Then he grins at Luke with that cheeky little grin he does when he’s feeling particularly proud of himself for being a little shit. The same face Luke had seen him pull at NYCC when he’d made Eric blush with the “daddy” comment. The same one Luke had seen him pull on the After Dark special when he’d popped up from the behind the sofa.
“Surprised it took you this long to catch on, actually,” Assad says. “We haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”
“Yeah, but I guess I thought you were doing a bit,” Luke says, the tips of his ears all hot. “Sort of like how we were doing a bit.”
Then it hits him. Luke had been part of this alleged bit. Tagging Eric in all their selfies together, letting Assad post a picture of him for Eric’s birthday. He’s been nothing but a fucking pawn in their little sex game!
“Fuck, I even played into it!” Luke says, running a hand through his curls and fighting the urge to die of embarrassment. “That’s so humiliating!”
“Wait, you think we’re doing a bit?” Assad says, suddenly sounding as serious as a heart attack.
“Well, now I don’t!” Luke cries out, just short of actually crying. “You just told me—”
“No, I mean, you think we’re doing a bit?” Assad says, turning to face him better. “You and me? You don’t think I enjoy flirting with you too?”
Luke’s heartbeat flutters just a bit, but he can’t let himself hope. So he goes for full on self-deprecation.
“I mean, why would you want the no-frills brand when you’ve got the real thing?” Luke says. “Eric’s cool as hell, man. And hot. And he’s the one you get to do everything with on screen—might as well be the same off screen.”
There’s a tightening in Luke’s stomach. The stupid jealousy that has been gnawing away at him ever since he’d first gotten the news about his very minimal role in The Vampire Lestat.
“No one gives a shit about me,” he says, his lip quivering just a little. “I’m in one episode for five minutes and I can’t even do any promo because my existence is a fucking spoiler. Rolin straight-up told everyone I’m not even in it!”
“Yes, and it sent the internet into a total meltdown,” Assad says, pulling his phone back up. “People were gutted. Look at this, Tumblr user danielmolloysprostate says, ‘if I don’t see Assad Zaman put Luke Brandon Field on his knees again in season 3 except this time sexual style I’m gonna kill myself’.”
Luke huffs. “Rest in peace, Tumblr user danielmolloysprostate.”
“Hey, your time’s going to come, Luke,” Assad says, his voice soft and kind. “People are just going to have to wait a little longer to see it. And by the time they get it, they’ll be gagging for it.”
Luke swallows hard. He’s not sure how wise it is to be thinking about coming or gagging for it right now, with his stupidly hot friend and co-star, who he’s had a crush on for years, mere inches away from him.
“I’m sure Armand and young Daniel will have plenty of opportunity to do things sexual style in season four,” Assad says, with a chuckle. “In the meantime,” he adds, one hand sliding across the distance between them and landing on Luke’s thigh. “I mean … we don’t have to wait.”
Luke’s brain does the fucking Windows blue screen of death. His face is on fire, and his eyes are fixated on the stupidly attractive fingers running mindlessly up and down the inseam of his jeans.
“What… what are you doing?” he stammers.
Assad pulls his hand away. “Oh. No. Sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“Wait,” Luke says, “I didn’t mean… stop… it’s just…” his tongue darts out to wet his lips; suddenly his mouth is bone dry. “What about Eric?”
“He’s married, Luke,” Assad says with a smile that’s somehow half-kind-half-condescending, like the answer should be obvious. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. We’ve got an arrangement. Besides, if there’s anyone he’d more-than-approve of me fooling around with, it’d be you.”
There it is. The realisation punches Luke square in the gut.
“Because I look exactly like him.”
“No! Shut up!” Assad cries, his smile falling and his eyes going wide and sad as he scrambles to his knees on the sofa. “You’re hot, okay?”
Next thing Luke knows, Assad’s in his lap. He’s straddling him, knees splayed on either side of his hips, those hands cradling his face, just like they’d done when they’d been filming 2.5.
It’s eerie, actually, staring up into those eyes again. But this time they aren’t the freakish orange orbs that had given Luke the horniest of nightmares for at least a week after wrapping. This time, they’re warm, and dark, and so, so gorgeous, and… holy fuck…
Assad dips down and kisses him, softly and gently, like he’s afraid Luke might run away if he makes any sudden movements. At first, Luke’s just sitting there, unsure of what to do with his hands. But when Assad’s tongue starts nudging at his lips, Luke’s hands just sort of find their way instinctively to settle on Assad’s hips as he opens his mouth for him.
They haven’t done a screen kiss yet—they’re not up to the part in the narrative—and before this moment, Luke had been stroppy about it. But now? Well, he’s thrilled.
He can’t imagine having the first time they did this be in front of an entire cast and crew. It’s so much better like this. Just the two of them. In the privacy of Assad’s hotel room. No one to call cut or send either of them to HR because… oh fuck… yeah, Luke’s hard as a rock.
Assad presses in a little closer, rolling his hips, and Luke groans into his mouth. Yeah, Assad’s hard too.
He runs his hands down Luke’s front, his palms leaving a scorching trail down his chest as his kisses venture across Luke’s cheek, along his jaw, down to the column of his neck. He sucks a bruise into Luke’s skin and Luke’s eyes roll back in his head. He’s definitely going to need to cover that when they go out tomorrow and undoubtably post another fandom breaking selfie. Or maybe he won’t. Let people talk. Let Eric see. Hell, maybe Luke will need the proof himself that this wasn’t all some crazy dream.
Assad rucks up Luke’s shirt and Luke lets out a hitched gasp at the first touch of his soft hands on his skin.
“Christ, what the hell is happening, right now?” Luke hears himself murmur as Assad continues his assault on his neck.
“What do you want to happen?” Assad replies hotly against his throat.
What does he want? Well, he wants to be buried to the hilt inside his mate, that’s what. But he can’t very well say that now, can he? Maybe he can.
“I… uh… I sort of want to fuck you.”
Assad snorts a laugh into the crook of Luke’s neck.
“Sort of? Some enthusiasm. This,” —Assad rolls his hips again, grinding their erections together through their jeans— “doesn’t feel like a sort of.”
Luke groans, his fingers digging tighter into Assad’s hips. “No, I do… yeah… I really do… it’s just…”
Assad lifts his head from where it had been buried against Luke’s throat, and blinks down at him “What?”
Now Luke knows his face must be flaring. “Well… it’s just… I’ve never…”
Assad tilts his head and bites his lip like he’s trying not to smirk. “Luke…”
“I have with girls, you knob!” Luke says, playfully smacking Assad’s thigh. “I’ve just never… you know… with a bloke before.”
A laugh bubbles up out of Assad. “A bloke? I’m just a bloke?”
“Oi, shut up,” Luke says, tangling one hand in that hot mess of curls and pulling Assad back into a kiss, this one a little rougher and a lot more urgent than the last.
Luke pushes himself to his feet, only groaning a little with the exertion, as Assad wraps his legs around his hips and his arms around his neck with a squeal of surprise. Luke walks him over to the bed and deposits him onto the mattress with a grunt.
“Take off your shirt,” Assad orders, his eyes wide and his pupils blown as he sits up in the middle of the bed.
Luke does as he’s told—still totally in Daniel mode apparently—pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it to the floor.
Assad scoots down to sit on the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers in the beltloops of Luke’s jeans and tugs him closer, his hands falling on the fastenings and making quick work of them. He roughly shoves Luke’s bottom layers down around his thighs before Luke even has a second to feel any kind of anxiety about it.
And just like that, all Luke’s insecurities dissolve on the wind as Assad takes in the sight of his cock, thick, and long, and so hard it hurts.
“Jesus Christ,” Assad mutters, his eyes like saucers. “Where the hell do you keep this thing?”
The blush that had previously been contained to Luke’s face starts to bloom down his chest. He isn’t sure that’s a question that requires answering, but regardless, all coherent thought is wiped from his brain anyway when Assad wraps his long, elegant fingers around him.
“Ah… fuck…” Luke sucks in a breath.
Assad’s touch is already electric, and he’s barely done anything yet. And then he leans in and licks a long, slow stripe along the pulsing vein on the underside.
Luke shudders, clenching his fists at his side. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.”
Assad chuckles before suckling the head of Luke’s cock between his lips. Luke swears he’s going to crying by the end of this.
“You can pull my hair if you want,” Assad says, his lips still brushing over Luke’s cherry red, swollen tip. “I’ll like it.”
Luke grits his teeth and threads his fingers through Assads curls, tugging lightly as Assad resumes teasing the head of his cock between his lips, working his tongue into the slit. Somehow, Luke’s never noticed how small Assad’s mouth is, but now, as he opens wider and begins to slide Luke’s particularly girthy erection between his lips, it’s all Luke can think about. It’s so fucking hot, looking down into those enormous doe-eyes as Assad struggles to wrap his mouth around him. He’s taking it like a champ though, and Luke tries not to think about the fact that he’s probably had plenty of practice.
Eric and something about Pepsi cans springs to mind.
But Eric and Pepsi cans are swiftly pushed out of Luke’s brain when Assad gags around him, tears making his ridiculous eyes go a bit misty, before he pulls off with a heaving breath.
“Fuck, you’re going to break my jaw,” he says, gasping.
Luke reaches one hand down and gently massages Assad’s jaw with his fingers. He runs his thumb across Assad’s puffy lower lip and Assad sucks it into his mouth. Luke’s a bit relieved he’s sucking that instead of his dick now, because there was no way he was going to last with Assad doing all of that. And he absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, needs to fuck him right here, right now, before the moment passes and he never gets another chance to.
For a minute, it’s almost like Assad can read his mind, because he pulls off Luke’s thumb and starts shoving Luke’s bottom layers down the rest of the way. When Luke takes over from him, Assad pulls his own shirt up over his head and tosses it aside. Then he leans back on his elbows so Luke can rid him of the rest of his clothes.
Luke’s limbs flood with heat when he looks down at Assad. Miles of soft, smooth skin, peppered with dark hair. He wants to lick every square inch of his body, but apparently Assad has other plans.
“Come on,” Assad says. “Get up here. I want to ride you. Want to show you just how hot you are… just how much I want you.”
Luke must have died or something. There’s no way this is real. He’s waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and tell him he’s been Punk’d. But Assad is sitting there on the hotel bed, naked as the day he was born, making grabby hands at him.
When Luke’s brain finally starts firing enough to provide his body with movement again, he clamours ungracefully onto the bed, crawling up to rest against the headboard. Assad moves back over to him, straddling his hips like he was doing on the sofa. He settles against him and their cocks bump together.
Luke groans, his brow furrowing. “Holy fuck…”
Assad pulls his lower lip between his teeth.
“Look at you,” he says, sounding like he’s mesmerised, like he isn’t the one possessing ethereal, divine levels of beauty in this arrangement. He cradles Luke’s face in one hand and combs the fingers of the other through Luke’s curls, pushing his hair off his forehead. “You’re gorgeous.”
Luke’s heartbeat splutters, and his face burns as he struggles to keep looking Assad in the eye.
Assad leans in and presses a hot kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth. “You have the loveliest smile. I wish you’d let yourself do it more, instead of that… blue steel thing you so love to do.” Assad presses another kiss to the other corner of his mouth. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”
Luke feels a little dizzy all of a sudden. The words wash over him and he’s warm and spacey and… oh, this is nice.
Assad pulls back a little and stares into his eyes, so intently, Luke thinks he might just catch on fire.
“And your eyes,” he says, leaning back in and dropping a featherlight kiss over each of Luke’s closed eyes. “The prettiest colour I’ve ever seen.”
Luke’s cheeks burn even hotter somehow, and his throat bobs as he swallows hard.
Assad presses his lips to each apple of each cheek. “And the way your cheeks go so pink. Makes me want to bite them both clean off.”
Luke huffs, amused. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Rather me bite the other ones?” Assad replies, grinning wickedly.
Luke rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but giggle. Yeah. He would, as it happens.
Assad takes his face between his hands again, eyes burning, lips parted as he surges in for another hot, messy kiss. Luke’s hands wrap around his hips, his skin searing hot under Luke’s palms.
Assad slides one hand from Luke’s face, down his chest, his stomach, between their bodies, and he wraps it around both of them, pressing their cocks together in the tight clutch of his fist. Luke nearly chokes with pleasure.
“Oh, my god,” he whines, breaking the kiss to drop his head back against the headboard.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as Assad leans back in to mouth at his exposed throat. It’s torturous, the way Assad’s laving kisses, and licks, and bites all over his throat, his hand slowly moving over both their cocks, slicked only by spit and the copious amounts of precome Luke is leaking all over them both.
“Do you have lube? Please tell me you have lube,” Assad says, panting against his neck.
“If I say I do, do you promise you won’t make fun of me for bringing it on this trip?” Luke mumbles into his curls.
“Trust me, making fun of you is the last thing I’ll do,” Assad replies. “I need you inside me right fucking now.”
“Fuck…” Luke pants. “Okay, yeah it’s in the bedside drawer.”
Assad smirks as he stretches over to retrieve the bottle. “Of course it is.”
“Come on, man…” Luke whines.
“Shhhh…” Assad coos when he returns properly to his lap; he cradles his face again. “I’m sorry,” he says, punctuating the apology with a kiss. “I’m just teasing. You’re so pretty when you’re all pink and flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.” Luke pouts, petulant.
Assad smirks again. “Whatever you say.” Then he rises up on his knees, resting his hands on Luke’s shoulders. “Do you want to open me up, or shall I?”
Luke licks his lips, his hands settling on Assad’s thighs. He’s mesmerised by the sight in front of him, Assad’s cock now inches from his face. He’s going to pass out from lust any second now, surely. Obviously, he wants to be the one to do it. Wants to feel him around his fingers, one by one, before he feels him around his cock. But he wasn’t lying when he’d said he’d never done this before with a bloke. He’s never done this before. Not even to himself.
“I’ll do it,” he hears himself say, despite the blaring siren of nerves that’s going off in his head. “But you’ll have to…” He lowers his eyes, a bit embarrassed.
But then he realises that just brings him eye to eye with Assad’s cock, so it doesn’t really help the situation.
“I’ll have to what?” Assad presses, breathless and a little impatient.
“You’ll have to help me out,” Luke says, flushing again. “Let me know if I’m… you know… doing it right… I want to… make you feel good so… you know...”
“Okay.” Assad nods slowly in understanding, a smile melting across his lips, then he holds out his palm. “Give me your hand.”
Luke cocks his head and peels his right hand off Assad’s thigh, placing it in Assad’s hand. Assad takes him by the wrist, opens the bottle of lube, and coats Luke’s first finger with it. He looks Luke dead in the eye and slowly guides his hand between his spread thighs. Obviously, Luke doesn’t need that much guidance—he knows where the fucking hole is—but it’s just too hot, letting himself be puppeteered like this. He swallows hard as he feels the first touch of Assad’s fluttering hole under the pad of his finger.
Assad hums with pleasure and lets go of his wrist, returning his hands to Luke’s shoulders. Luke lets out a shuddering breath and begins gently rubbing tight circles over Assad’s rim, overwhelmed by all of it; the muscle relaxing under his fingers, Assad’s thick eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, his lips parted on shallow little breaths already.
The breaths get shallower, and the sounds he’s making get whinier, until eventually he moans.
“Oh my god, Luke! Just put it in me!”
Luke’s cock kicks between them and he does as he’s told, pressing in slowly, feeling the hot, tight channel give way to his thick first finger.
Assad whines. “Oh, fuck. Yes…” His hands scrabble up into Luke’s hair and he clings on, pulling him into another wet, messy kiss as Luke continues to fuck his finger in and out of him.
“Does that feel good?” Luke asks, between breathless kisses.
“Yes…” Assad pants. “But I need more. Please.”
“You ready?”
“Yes! Do it.”
Luke kisses him quiet again as he pushes in a second finger. Assad groans into his mouth.
“God, your fingers…” he mumbles against Luke’s lips.
“S’that good?”
“Yeah… just a little… deeper… and a little… oh fu—uck!”
Assad’s body goes taut like a bowstring, his back arching and his head falling back. His fingers dig so hard into Luke’s shoulders he’s surely going to leave imprints. Clearly, Luke’s struck gold with that, so he does it again, rubbing over that spot that’s got Assad a trembling, writhing, gorgeous blissed out mess in his lap.
Luke’s riveted to Assad’s face. He’s fucking ethereal in his ecstasy. His cock is leaking all over them both. And the idea that he could make him come like this is sending Luke crazy. The hitched breaths and desperate whines falling from Assad’s lips are going straight from Luke’s ears to his cock. He’s so hard it’s painful. Assad claws one hand off his shoulder and wraps it instead around Luke’s length.
“Holy fuck…” Luke gasps, the touch of Assad’s soft, warm hand almost too much to bear, causing his fingers to stutter inside him and his vision to blur around the edges.
Assad strokes him long and slow, chuckling against his lips like a little demon.
Luke whines. “I—shit—I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Well, then—ah—prepare me properly.”
Luke is fighting for his life to keep himself from coming as Assad strokes him lazily. He slowly works in a third finger, stretching Assad out until he lets go of Luke’s cock and starts mindlessly pawing at his chest.
“Okay, I’m ready—fuck—please, Luke… need it…”
“Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” Luke pants, slowly withdrawing his fingers to the sounds of Assad whimpering so prettily.
Assad reaches back between them and takes Luke’s cock in hand again, shifting a little closer to line himself up and get the angle right. Then he’s locking those massive, dark eyes onto Luke’s—almost startlingly Armand-like—and slowly working the head inside himself. He’s moaning and panting, and there’s sweat causing his curls to stick to his forehead. Luke is shaking with the effort to hold back as he feels the head of his cock slowly breach Assad, finally settling into place with a pop.
“Oh my god…” Assad gasps, pausing for a second, his fingers digging into Luke’s shoulder.
“You all right?” Luke strains, stroking Assad’s thigh, his own cock aching and pulsing.
“Yeah,” Assad says with an airy, blissed out laugh. “You’re just… oh my god.”
“A bit much?”
Assad snorts. “Yeah. But in the best way imaginable.”
Assad lets out a shuddering breath and slowly, slowly, inch by torturous inch, lets himself sink down onto Luke’s more-than-generous cock. Luke feels like his soul is leaving his body as he sinks deeper and deeper into the hot, tight clutch of Assad’s hole. The three fingers probably weren’t totally sufficient, and it’s clear from the half-pained, half-horny look on Assad’s face that he’s feeling every single inch of it as it cleaves him open.
Assad’s head drops forward against Luke’s shoulder as he takes in the last few inches, and by the time he’s fully seated in Luke’s lap, with Luke buried to the hilt, both of them are sweating, and panting, and trembling.
Assad lifts his head, eyelids heavy, looking a little drunk. He paws at Luke’s cheek and gazes down at him with hazy eyes.
“You okay?” Luke asks, his hands stroking up and down Assad’s thighs.
“Yeah… fuck… yeah, I’m… I’m great,” Assad says. “Are you okay?”
Luke grits his teeth and nods. “Yeah. I just… fuck… can’t believe it… it’s you.”
Assad laughs again, sounding a little hysterical. “I know. I can’t believe I’m taking your boy-virginity.”
Luke’s face flares again. He’s got so much blood in his cheeks it’s a wonder he’s got any left to fuel his erection.
“Is that funny?” he asks, but he’s struggling to not catch the giggles from Assad.
“No,” Assad replies breathily. “Not funny… not funny at all… just… it feels… it feels so good… feels… right.”
Luke loses his battle with the giggles, and one bubbles up out of him, flooding his body with warmth, and fondness, and light.
“Yeah,” he says. “It does, doesn’t it.”
“Mhm…” Assad says with a little circle of his hips, and immediately the laughter is knocked clean out of both of them, dissolving instead into a deep, harmonious, guttural groan.
Assad lifts himself up and drops himself down, punching some kind of animal sound out of the very pit of Luke’s gut.
“Holy fuck…” he whines, gripping Assad’s hips harder on instinct.
Assad does it again. “Fuck… you like it?”
Luke snorts through his pleasure. “Uh, yeah.”
“Yeah?” Assad repeats, punctuating the word with another bounce.
Hot pleasure shoots up Luke’s spine. “Yeah…” he chokes out.
Assad grips Luke’s shoulder with one hand and wraps his other hand around the back of his neck, tangling his fingers in the curls at his nape and tugging softly as he starts to set a pace.
Luke’s almost—almost—embarrassed by the sounds he makes, the choked out little whines, the desperate panting, the slapping together of skin against skin. Nothing has ever felt this good. The entire room is spinning as Assad bounces on his cock, gripping at his hair for leverage, head thrown back, mouth hanging open around a chorus of the most delicious little ah ah ahs Luke’s ever heard.
Assad’s riding is getting more and more frantic by the second, and he’s getting louder and louder, and it’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Luke in his life, and he’s so close to coming he wants to fucking cry, but he needs Assad to get there first. He needs to feel him clenching and pulsing and shaking on it. The thought alone is almost enough to send him over the edge.
He slips his hand between them to take Assad’s cock and Assad swats it away.
“No…” he pants. “Just want your cock… I can do it… I’m so close… fuck…”
Luke is about to pass out.
Assad takes Luke’s hands instead and redirects them upwards to land on his chest. He really does have the best chest. Luke palms at his… well, they’re tits almost. He thumbs over his nipples until they’re peaked and then he pinches at them gently.
“Harder,” Assad orders.
Luke does exactly as he’s told, and Assad is just shy of screaming.
“Fuck! Luke… oh my god… yes… yes… fuck…”
Luke takes a punt and leans in, sucking hard at Assad’s exposed throat. Assad’s arms fly around Luke’s body again, clinging to him as he wails, shakes, and comes like a fucking atom bomb, all over the both of them.
The way his hole clenches down around Luke’s cock, the way his fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his back, the way he’s panting, and whining, and moaning Luke’s name as he keeps bouncing himself through it…
Luke comes so fucking hard he nearly blacks out, flooding his friend’s guts with spurt after spurt of hot cum.
Assad collapses heavily against his chest, his head dropping to his shoulder. Luke folds him up in his arms, stoking over the smooth planes of his back with one hand, carding his fingers through his curls with the other.
“Holy shit,” he mutters into Assad’s neck, once his brain has finally come back online enough to formulate coherent sentences. “That was… that was… holy shit.”
Okay, maybe coherent sentences are still evading him a little.
“Don’t wanna move,” Assad mumbles against his shoulder. “I live here now.”
“Hey, man, that’s cool with me,” Luke replies with a fucked out chuckle.
Assad lifts his head, arms still clinging to Luke’s neck as he looks down at him.
“You really going to call me ‘man’ after all that?” he asks with an amused raise of an eyebrow.
Luke’s heart is hammering in his chest, so he deflects to humour to mask the fact that suddenly, in the aftermath, this all feels very real. And he’s still not sure if the feeling is mutual.
“What would you prefer?” Luke replies, smirking. “Babe? Baby? Dollface? Sugar tits?”
Assad pulls a face.
“Eric already calls me babe,” he says, dropping his forehead back down against Luke’s shoulder. “You can call me baby, if you like.”
Oh.
Luke’s heart squeezes in a way he never expected it to. It’s beautiful, and overwhelming, and he’s still halfway terrified that he’s somehow gotten the wrong end of the stick.
“Oh… okay… I mean… if you want me to… I can… sorry, I just…” Luke clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure what this… was.”
Assad lifts his head again. He tilts it to one side and gives Luke a look.
“Well, I told you, me and Eric aren’t exclusive,” he says. “He’s literally got a wife.”
Luke runs a shaky hand over his hair. “Assad, you’re gonna have to spell it out to me, because I’ve been wrong about these things before, and I don’t want to be on different pages and—mfph”
Assad cuts him off with a kiss, his arms wrapped around his neck, the two of them pressed chest to chest.
“I like you, you idiot,” he says, bumping their noses together. “If that wasn’t already obvious.”
Luke’s blushing again. “Well, now it is.”
“I could prove it to you again if you like. Just give me,” he checks the watch he isn’t wearing. “I don’t know… an hour?”
Luke huffs a laugh, relief washing over his body as he tightens his arms around Assad’s waist.
“So, this can be… a thing?” Luke asks, cocking his head.
Assad nods, giggling. “If Eric is allowed to have a wife, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to have a boyfriend.”
“You and Eric, and you and me?” Luke clarifies.
“Yes, Luke,” Assad says, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “And if we ask Eric really nicely…” another kiss… “then maybe some night…” and another… “it could even be you” –kiss— “and Eric” –kiss— “and me.”
Luke nearly swallows his own tongue. He feels his spent cock stir where it’s still sheathed inside Assad. He draws his head back a little so he can look at him.
“Are you serious?”
Assad lifts one shoulder and pulls that little pouty, frowny face he does. “I mean I’m game if you are. And if Eric is.” A knowing smile slides across his lips. “But there isn’t much Eric isn’t game for.”
“Jesus Christ…” Luke says, his palms sweating. “You might just get your Devil’s Minion fantasy threesome after all.”
“Well, if Rolin won’t let us do it, we’ll just have to take matters into our own hands.”
“Yeah… I think we just did.”