10 Things I'll Tattoo on You

by surrealsunday

Summary:

10 Things I Hate About You AU

It’s a terrible idea from the start. Eliott knows that. But when presented with the possibility of a date with a cute boy for a generous sum of much-needed cash, could anyone blame him for taking resident-asshole-Charles-Munier up on the offer? Well, yes. Lucas Lallemant could. But there’s no need for him to find out about the arrangement. A date and it’s done. Easy enough. Or it would be... if Lucas wasn’t... Lucas. Head-strong, stubborn, cheeky, and everything Eliott didn’t know he needed. In conclusion: He’s fucked.

Chapter 1

Notes:

So… any of you still with me in Elu land 🙈? I know there were at least two of you waiting to read this 😂! I apologize it took me so damn long to finish but life has burnt me out lately and I didn’t want to bring that to my writing. I hope you will love because I really had fun transforming this story.

With that said…

This is not your teeny-bopper version of this story. I’ve aged the characters up and nothing about this will be PG. I also don’t follow the movie to the letter. Liberties are for sure taken as some things that work on screen, won’t have the same impact on paper. Also, I don’t love fic adaptations of films that are exact copies. Not my jam. And so… I have major anxiety about disappointing anyone if I’ve changed or left out your fave scene, but hopefully in the end you’ll be satisfied!

LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU! ENJOY! ❤️❤️❤️

Eliott leans back, almost toppling off his stool as he attempts to gain better perspective on the painting he’s been labouring over. He’d call it a labour of love, except he’s fairly certain he hates it. He sighs, frustrated not only by his inability to move past the creative block that’s been stymieing him for weeks, but by the eyes he feels on the side of his head. He should be used to it – he almost is – but it grates on him particularly today.

Since he’d transferred to the University's visual arts program in the winter there have been non-stop rumours surrounding his need to do so. The fact that the visual arts students shared space with a number of other faculties hadn't helped, facilitating a propogation of gossip Eliott thought he'd left behind in highschool. From the rumours he’d heard for himself, he’s either recently been released from jail, found himself out of a job as a porn actor, or… something about him eating a live duck? The fact that he’s had no interest in making friends or setting the record straight has only encouraged the spread of rumours at an even more frenzied pace. Initially, he’d been amused. The truth was a hell of a lot bleaker than being an out-of-work porn actor, after all. But the constant attention brought on by the rumours had resulted in far more attention than he’d ever wanted. The point had been not to make waves.

Eliott sighs again, the prickling sensation of someone staring starting to feel a lot more like pricks of a needle. “What?” He doesn’t look away from his painting, but he hears the two boys standing at the door to the studio gasp.

“Well, go!” One of them urges the other.

“Me? What do I say?”

“Why would I know?”

“This is your plan!”

“It’s barely a plan – and I didn’t say to ask him.”

“He’s the only one who won’t be scared of him!”

Having had enough of listening to the two boys squabble, Eliott turns to look at them. They both snap their mouths shut, which is at least a start.

“Tell me what you want or leave.” It’s rude, but it’s been his best approach to dealing with the students of this school. If they fear him, they leave him alone. Up until this point, that is. And these two boys, looking like they’re scared of their own shadows, aren’t who Eliott would have expected to break the trend.

“Oh – ok. Ok.” One of the boys – the one with darker, curly hair – is shoved forward by his bespeckled friend. “You’re – you’re Eliott,” he stutters, like this will be news to Eliott. “I’m Basile. This is Arthur.” Eliott says nothing, tapping the wooden end of his paintbrush impatiently against his thigh. “Uh…” The boy – Basile - throws a wild look back to his friend, who doesn’t appear to be interested in helping at all, remaining by the door. “Anyways, see, we have this plan, and we thought – you know, that you might be interested, because you’re…” His eyes flick about Eliott’s seated figure like this alone will provide an illuminating descriptor, and Eliott has had about enough of this conversation.

He stands. Slowly. All he intends to do is retrieve supplies from across the room, but Basile apparently takes this as a bodily threat and falls back a number of steps, words spilling from his mouth in a panicked rush.

“Uh – never mind! Never mind. It’s fine. I forgot what I was going to say.” He laughs, high-pitched and mildly hysterical, walking backwards until he runs directly into his friend. “Have a nice day!” He spins around, grabbing his friend, Arthur, who appears just as confused as Eliott, and drags him away, back into the hall of the school.

Eliott stares at the empty doorway for a moment, perplexed but happy to be alone again. He looks back to his canvas, reaching for it in a burst of impulse and tossing it to the floor of the studio. It thankfully lands face-up, preventing him from the very unpleasant task of cleaning paint off the studio’s cement floors. The dramatic, if unnecessary, compulsion was worth the risk of such potential consequences, however, and Eliott exhales with satisfaction. Time to start anew.

* * * *

Eliott wishes he could say that was the last he sees of the two strange boys, but not even a day later, as he’s sunning himself in the courtyard of the shared faculty buildings, thinking how nice it is to not have anywhere to be or anyone who needs him, he sees the two boys approaching once more… only, they’re not alone. A student in Eliott’s year accompanies them. Eliott scrutinizes all three as they approach, safe in the knowledge he can do so behind the darkness of his sunglasses without giving away his curiosity.

Charles.

Eliott is familiar with him, in that he’d very quickly learned as a new student to give him a wide berth. Eliott doesn’t have any problem with him per se, but he knows Charles’ type, and seeing him in action – the popular, arrogant sought-after player who figures he can do no wrong and uses that to all the wrong advantage – had only confirmed his first impression. Eliott has managed not to exchange a word with Charles or interact with him in any form, and with a fair bit of annoyance, he realizes that is about to change.

Eliott flicks his attention away just as the group stops in front of him, tipping his head back further to capture rays of sunshine against his face.

“Hey, how you doing?”

Eliott doesn’t acknowledge the question, breathing deeply and doing his absolute best to tune out the world around him. It’s less effective in the present moment than it used to be.

“You know,” Charles drawls, “I’ve got a friend – his brother is in Fleury-Mérogis.” There’s a moment of suspended silence before he adds, “The prison.”

Eliott tips his head back down, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he meets Charles gaze. “Do I know you?” Of course he does, and they both know it, but Eliott also knows that even the thought of someone being unaware of Charles, will be enough to irritate the prick beyond measure. And while Eliott is not looking to seek out conflict, he’s not about to back from it when challenged either.

Instead of taking the bait, Charles looks away from Eliott, jerking his chin in the direction of the other side of the courtyard where a group of students have taken to kicking around a ball.

“See that guy over there?”

Curiosity piqued despite himself, Eliott inspects the boys in the distance. There only look to be about five – two mismatched teams, and only one boy smaller than the others. For the way he plays though, you wouldn’t know it. He weaves through the larger boys with ease, laughing as he bumps elbows with his teammate on a good play.

“Yeah?” Eliott’s playing into Charles’ hand by engaging in this conversation, but he has to admit, he wants to know where this is going. At the moment, he can’t imagine.

“That’s Lucas Lallemant,” Charles continues. “I want you to go out with him.”

Eliott expels a loud breath, a partial laugh “Yeah, ok, Charming. I’ll get right on that.” Is this guy for real? Eliott looks away, finding his eyes drawn back to the boy playing on the other side of the courtyard.

“Listen –”

“Rather not,” Eliott interrupts, keeping his eyes on the boy they’re speaking about. There’s something about him that makes it hard to look away.

“Lucas’s sister, Daphne,” Charles continues as though Eliott hasn’t spoken. “I want to take her out. I can’t do that unless Lucas is dating.”

The strange explanation draws Eliott’s attention back to Charles. He raises an eyebrow, resting his arms against the back of the bench as he sizes up the man standing over him. “What’s that got to do with me?” He cuts his eyes to the original instigators of this series of events – Basile and Arthur – standing some distance behind Charles, safely out of the sphere of conversation but close enough to hear every word being spoken.

“If Lucas is dating, I can date Daphne. All part of their dad’s rules. If Lucas isn’t dating, Daphne isn’t either.”

“Right,” Eliott cuts him off. “Touching story, really. Not my problem.” Not only is it not Eliott’s problem, from where he’s sitting, he doesn’t understand why this would involve him in any way. He has no connection or relationship to any of the parties involved. How he’s suddenly become the subject of not only Basile and Arthur’s interest, but Charles’ too, is beyond him.

“Would you make it your problem if I promised generous compensation?”

Eliott has a number of reactions to the question, all lived out quietly in the privacy of his head in the span of what’s likely only a few seconds. Formidable among them is the very real desire to punch Charles directly in the face. Eliott rarely feels violent but something about Charles brings it out in him – a Charles speaking patronizingly as he offers Eliott money particularly. Sharing space with this reaction are a few others, confusion of course, he still has no idea what instigated this conversation in the first place or why on earth he’s been sought out, but also – and Eliott hesitates to even name it – interest.

He needs the money.

Eliott resents even thinking it but it’s a simple fact. He exists in relative comfort in Paris thanks to the support of his parents, but that support comes with the total lack of knowledge of the debt he carries. He couldn’t bring himself to be honest at the time he became aware – or more accurately, once he’d been well enough to understand the consequences of his former actions – and it’s been a struggle trying to simultaneously pay that off while keeping the burden from his parents. More than anything, he resents that this unpleasant reality has him answering Charles with a lot more interest than he’d ever have liked to display.

“What sort of compensation are we talking?”

There’s a spark of satisfaction in Charles’ eyes and Eliott quietly cringes at the sight. Charles knows he has him now. The power dynamic has significantly shifted in his favour, but Eliott reminds himself that it was Charles who approached him. Clearly, Eliott holds some of the cards in this strange potential arrangement.

“Two hundred.”

Eliott scoffs, instantly and loudly, pushing away from the bench to stand in front of Charles. He holds eye contact for an extended beat before he turns away, taking a few steps as he stares out across the courtyard in the direction of the boys playing football.

“Two hundred to date some guy I’ve never met – all to make your life easier?” He crosses his arms against his chest. “Think you’ve got yourself the wrong hired whore.” Saying the words is like watching a bruise form, like being entirely aware of his own internal bleeding but with little desire or ability to slow the process.

“Three hundred,” Charles says from behind him.

As Eliott watches, the boy at the other end of the courtyard, drives his shoulder into the chest of one of the much larger opposing players. The player falls back, stunned, tripping over his own feet until he topples down to the pavement. The boy – Lucas – carries on past him, movements decisive and exhibiting a ferocious sort of determination. Eliott exhales a breath of amusement as he watches and listens to Charles sigh loudly behind him.

“Three fifty,” Charles amends. “Final offer.”

And, well, Eliott has to admit watching Lucas has him officially intrigued. Three fifty to take a pretty boy out? Eliott’s never had to be paid to do such a thing before. But the thought of agreeing to Charles’ terms suggests a power imbalance Eliott is in great opposition to. He turns back to Charles.

“Four hundred,” Eliott counters. Charles opens his mouth to object and Eliott speaks over the would-be protest, “and you’re paying for any date-related expenses – any unforeseen costs that might arise.” He smiles, false and filled with mocking.

Charles’ jaw drops. “I’m not paying you four hundred to take out that loser! This isn’t a negotiation.”

Eliott shrugs, unconcerned. “Alright.” He turns to leave, barely covering his smile when Charles grabs his arm before he can do so.

“Fine. Jesus. Fine.” His mouth is twisted with irritation when Eliott turns back to him, and he points a finger in warning. “But you make it happen. Alexia’s party this Friday.” With transparent desire to have the last word, Charles spins around with a flourish and stalks off. Eliott watches him go with a smirk before cutting his eyes back to the two boys who have watched the entire scene play out and are now whispering amongst themselves.

“Well?” Eliott prompts, loud enough to capture their attention. They both jerk their heads up and to him, eyes wide with surprise at having been addressed. Eliott raises an eyebrow. “You want to explain what you have to do with this?”

“What?” Basile asks stupidly, staring open mouthed.

The other boy – Arthur - sighs and shoves him forward until they’re both approaching Eliott. He begins to explain first, “This thing with Charles. We’re behind it.”

“We’re the masterminds!” Basile enthuses from beside Arthur, smiling widely.

“Is that right?” Eliott drawls, regarding them skeptically. “You’re pulling Charles’ strings then, are you?”

Basile looks momentarily confused and Arthur takes over. “The thing is, Bas here,” he throws a hand sideways, thumping Basile in the stomach, “has had a thing for Daphne for… well, forever.”

Eliott exhales a dry laugh, shaking his head as he glances back to Lucas and the boys on the other side of the courtyard. “What is it with this girl? She have sugar nipples?” Eliott just barely manages to keep a straight face as the lewd comment is met with shock and outrage from Basile.

“Don’t talk about her like th-” He’s cut off by Arthur patting a hand against his chest and directing his next comments at Eliott.

“We can help you.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to top his offer?” Already confident that wasn’t what they had meant in any capacity, he enjoys the panic that washes over Basile’s face.

“I don’t have any money!” Bas cries, looking wildly to Arthur.

“He knows that, dingus,” Arthur says with an aggrieved sigh. Eliott can relate. “Charles is a tool,” Arthur continues, looking back to Eliott. “Bas actually cares about Daphne. Charles just wants her for –”

“Sex!” Bas hisses like this is the most shocking thing about this situation yet. Not reacting to their general aura of ridiculousness is becoming a bit of an issue.

“As opposed to what you want from her?” Eliott questions, the implication clear. It’s not that he’s particularly objecting to the notion that someone might look at someone else and desire sex – not like he hasn’t been there himself – but acting as though one is above that feels a lot like false pretenses. And Eliott does object to that.

“I don’t-” Bas begins, choking on his own words in all his outrage. It’s probably a good thing he can’t get the words out. Eliott doubts he has a leg to stand on.

“Listen,” Arthur continues, looking uncertain but more confident than his friend, “Lucas is our friend and –”

“Your friend?” Eliott cuts him off, eyebrows flying up in surprise. “He’s your friend and you’re trying to pay someone to date him?” They’re not. Charles is. But Eliott doesn’t see the point in highlighting the distinction.

“Not to fuck him over,” Arthur clarifies – at least, that’s what Eliott thinks he’s trying to do. “Not like Charles is thinking. We just…” He exhales looking to his friend for help, though he finds none, “think it would do him some good. To date, or whatever. And that way, Basile can take Daphne out. Everyone wins.”

Everyone wins? Jesus. With friends like this, Eliott wonders what Lucas would ever need with enemies.

“Fine,” Eliott dismisses, tired of this conversation. “You’re not offering more money. How is it you think you’re going to help?”

“We can tell you what he likes!” Bas suddenly jumps in, his voice hushed but somehow still loud.

“Lucas is tricky,” Arthur adds. “He doesn’t date.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “He likes guys, yeah?” The two boys nod in confirmation and Eliott lets his mouth pull up in a smirk. “Then I think I’ll do just fine.” He leans forward to slap both boys on the sides of their shoulders, adding in a cocky wink for good measure.

“But…”

Eliott doesn’t give either of them the opportunity to speak further, turning and striding with purpose away from them and to where Lucas stands apart from the boys he’d been with. He’s collecting things into his school bag and doesn’t look up as Eliott approaches.

“Hey. Lucas, right?” Eliott plasters on his most charming smile as Lucas looks up.

Lucas only glances at Eliott for a split second before he looks back to his bag, closing the zipper as he swings it up onto his shoulder. “He knows my name. Suppose I’ll swoon.”

Eliott quirks an eyebrow, a little thrown by the reaction but determined not to let it show. He doesn’t let his smile droop. “No need for that. I can do better.”

Lucas looks back to him as he begins walking away. “Doubt that.”

Determined not to trail after the way-prettier-than-Eliott-had-initially-realized boy, Eliott calls out after him. “I’ll pick you up Friday then!” It’s more forward than he’d normally prefer, but then, this isn’t a normal situation. And his agreement with Charles is contingent on securing the date. Just the same, Eliott isn’t surprised when Lucas’s reply comes steeped in sarcasm and without a glance backwards.

“I’ll wear my best dress.”

Eliott watches as the boy grows smaller in the distance, making his way across the courtyard. That was… unexpected. Granted Eliott hasn’t interacted with too many people since transferring and that’s been an intentional choice, but what few forays into socialization he’s had have come with people tripping over themselves to get on his good side. Whether that’s because they want more information on his background – to confirm or help round out existing rumours – or because Eliott’s face tends to do the work for him in most situations, people have gone out of their way to interact with him when he’s given them opportunity. This boy’s reaction was surprising. And Eliott will admit he’s not noting that as a bad thing.

Lucas is… interesting. Beautiful and interesting.

With a generous sum of money promised for dating the boy, Eliott’s starting to think this won’t nearly be the chore he’d anticipated. More of a challenge perhaps, but maybe a lot more fun than he expected too. The thought is a relief. It makes the moral quagmire of dating a boy for money – without the boy’s knowledge that is – less morally cloudy if Eliott actually likes him.

It’s one date with a pretty boy who Eliott might just find sort of interesting too. And Eliott gets a comfortable sum of money for doing so.

Things are looking up.

* * * *

Eliott watches curiously from a distance as Lucas enters the tattoo shop.

While Lucas’s destination has thrown Eliott for a loop, he can’t waste any more time watching from the street’s opposite corner, at risk of someone noticing he’s gone a little beyond casually observing Lucas and veered right into stalking.

Eliott jogs across the street, glancing through the shop’s window to see Lucas chatting with a tattoo artist Eliott knows well, before making his way to the front door of the shop. Lucas doesn’t notice when Eliott enters, continuing to talk to Bastien with a sweet smile and laugh. Eliott watches with interest, exchanging a quick smile with Emma, one of the shops interns who looks to be handling the reception desk today, before turning to peruse the drawings on the wall just as Lucas turns in his direction.

Eliott focuses on an illustration of a rose surrounded by thorns. He always thought that kind of imagery was a bit too obvious a metaphor, himself. Eliott’s always found flowers so expected when it comes to art and symbols of beauty. Plus it’s always been so satisfying to watch the look on someone’s face when he suggests raccoons are beautiful.

“Did you follow me here?”

Eliott’s smile is instant at the sound of Lucas’s voice, irritated and accusatory, just behind his shoulder. Eliott turns, raising an eyebrow as he meets Lucas’s eyes, narrowed in suspicion.

“Why would I follow you here?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas snips, the deep frown he sports not making him the least bit less attractive. “Why would you?”

Eliott cocks his head to the side, letting his smile grow in time with Lucas’s annoyance. There’s something extremely adorable about the way Lucas presents his anger, like a kitten with claws extended, like Eliott might end up with some scratches but it will one hundred percent be worth it. There’s movement just behind Lucas, and Eliott lets his attention drift past Lucas’s shoulder to see Bastien approaching.

“Eliott,” Bastien smiles, “we weren’t expecting you, were we?”

Eliott shakes his head, reaching for Bastien’s offered hand and allowing himself to be pulled into a half hug by the larger man. “Thought I’d drop in, show you I can follow direction,” he teases, turning his arm and pushing up his sleeve until his freshest tattoo is on display. It’s a simple line tattoo consisting of one musical bar. Rather than notes, however, it’s a heartbeat – Eliott’s own. The choice had felt mildly narcissistic, and Eliott had briefly worried that it would come across as such should anyone ask after the meaning, but he’d set his doubts aside and gotten it anyways. The reminder to himself that he was here, heart beating, a real, living person with people who loved him, had been too important to let the potential reaction of others dictate his decision.

“Yeah?” Bastien latches hold of his forearm, inspecting the tattoo before he looks back up at Eliott. “You putting SPF on that?”

Eliott meets Bastien’s eyes guiltily. “Um…”

“Bro,” Bastien laughs, dropping his arm, “you need to wear SPF. I told you that.”

“I’m wearing long sleeves…” Eliott defends.

“You think the sun cares about cotton when our own ozone can’t hold it back?” Bastien chuckles, looking sideways to Lucas who is watching them curiously. “Hope you’re not getting tattoo advice from this guy.”

“I’m not,” Lucas answers just as Eliott asks, “You’re getting a tattoo?”

Bastien’s attention swings between them. “How do you two know one another?”

“We don’t,” Lucas answers and Eliott is hard-pressed not to laugh. He’s so surly without cause. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. Bastien seems to think so as well, smiling as he looks to Eliott in question.

“School,” Eliott answers, before, after a moment’s thought to whether physical retaliation from Lucas is at all possible, adding, “and we’re going on a date.”  Eliott expects a bit more of a reaction than he gets, if he’s totally honest.

Lucas only rolls his eyes with an aggrieved sigh, turning to offer Bastien a small smile as he ignores Eliott entirely. “Thanks again. I’ll see you soon.” He’s marching out the door before another word is said.

Eliott watches him go with an incredulous laugh, looking back to Bastien who raises an eyebrow with obvious suggestion.

“You going after him?” He doesn’t expect an answer and Eliott doesn’t offer one, laughing again as he turns. He hears Bastien yell, “And wear SPF!” as he jogs to catch up to Lucas who is taking a helmet off a nearby scooter.

“Nice ride,” Eliott comments, raising his hands when Lucas swings around on him with narrowed eyes. “I was being sincere.”

The skeptical look on Lucas’s face remains but, if Eliott isn’t imagining things, it softens. “Thanks.” He turns back to his scooter but makes no moves to put his helmet on.

“You should be careful with him,” Eliott says, intentionally baiting Lucas with the comment. As expected, Lucas looks back to him.

“Who?”

“Bastien. He’ll have you getting a full back cover before you know it. A tiger or something.” Bastien himself is covered in head-to-toe tattoos. It’s a look few could pull off. Bastien, however, more than makes it work. It’s a fact Eliott has enjoyed intimately.

Lucas turns to face Eliott fully, crossing his arms against his chest. “Yeah? That what he did to you?”

Eliott smirks. “Picturing me naked?” The eyeroll he receives in response is all too satisfying.

“How’d you know?” Lucas scoffs, letting sarcasm speak for him. Naturally, Eliott answers as though it had been a genuine question.

“Speaking from experience, I suppose.” Eliott tilts his head, letting his eyes drop down Lucas’s body. It’s a step too far and Eliott is forced to hurry to the other side of the scooter as Lucas turns away from him, slipping his helmet over his head. “I’m joking,” he says with a laugh, waiting for Lucas to look up at him. “Naked thoughts are a post-date activity.”

Lucas swings his leg over his scooter, looking to Eliott with challenge in his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you you’re not as hot as you think you are?”

Eliott laughs, genuinely delighted. “Only you, actually.”

“Wonders never cease.”

Eliott laughs again. “You’re really not scared of me, are you?”

The question seems to have surprised Lucas. “Why would I be scared of you?”

Eliott shrugs. “Haven’t you heard the rumours? Apparently, I’m an ex-con.”

Lucas’s lips twitch. Eliott might even call it the beginning of a smile. “I thought it was ex-porn star.”

Eliott grins. “So, you have heard of me.”

There’s a car pulling up behind Lucas’s scooter before he has a chance to respond, and they both watch as Charles steps out of the driver’s seat after blocking Lucas’s scooter in.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lucas groans, speaking solely to himself. “Parade of the assholes?” Eliott might take offence to being included in that descriptor if it weren’t for the fact that Lucas’s ire is so obviously directed at Charles alone. “Hey!” Lucas grabs for Charles as he passes, latching onto his forearm. “Move your car. You’re blocking me in.” There’s venom in Lucas’s voice that hadn’t been there when speaking to Eliott.

Charles smiles as he turns to look at Lucas and there’s something incalculably cruel in it. “Am I?” He pulls his arm from Lucas’s hold and continues on his way, walking down the sidewalk and away from them at a relaxed pace.

Eliott watches the scene perplexed. He looks back to Lucas intending on asking what it is between Lucas and Charles that has led to such open hostility, but Lucas is starting the ignition of his scooter, a determined look on his face. Eliott takes a step back, assuming Lucas intends on driving up onto the sidewalk in order to escape his parking predicament. That’s not what Lucas does, however.

Eliott watches with jaw dropped as Lucas hits the gas and reverses his scooter with some speed and force, directly into Charles passenger side door. A satisfying crunch follows the action and as Lucas pulls forward, Eliott can see he’s left a sizeable dent in the car.

“What the fuck?!” Charles yells, running back in their direction. “Are you fucking insane?!!”

Lucas’s face lights up with a smile, so boyish and pleased with himself, Eliott gets a little stuck on the curve of his lips.

“Oops.”

Eliott laughs loudly. He can’t help himself. Who even is this boy?! Lucas’s attention darts back to him, as though he’s just remembered Eliott is still there.

“‘Oops’?!” Charles yells, rushing to inspect the damage to his car. “Look what you fucking did!”

Lucas looks away from Eliott, glancing in Charles’ direction with an unconcerned hum. “Should probably get that fixed.” He doesn’t wait for a response from Charles, revving his engine and driving his scooter up onto the sidewalk until he’s able to maneuver out of his parking spot and onto the road. He doesn’t look back.

Eliott shakes his head with an awed smile as he watches.

“I’m not paying you to stand there and watch as he wrecks my car!”

Eliott raises an eyebrow as he turns his attention to Charles. “Haven’t paid me at all.”

Charles sneers. “I will when you bring him to Alexia’s. You secured that yet?” Eliott suddenly keenly misses the days when he had no idea what Charles’ voice sounded like.

“I will.”

“Yeah?” Charles moves into Eliott’s space and it’s the second time within a very short timeframe that Eliott is seriously considering punching Charles in the nose. “You better make sure you do. You’re not getting anything from me until I get Daphne.”

An awful feeling accompanies the words. Eliott recognizes its roots: guilt. He rejects the thought. He doesn’t know Lucas. It’s one date. One date with a very necessary financial reward. Lucas will never know. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. Dating Lucas isn’t even a guarantee Daphne will date Charles. She’s a woman with free will. Guilt has no place here.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Charles looks momentarily thrown. “What?”

“Yeah,” Eliott nods with an easy smile, false and mildly threatening. “Cash in advance.”

“I’m not paying you when you haven’t accomplished a fucking thing.”

Eliott flicks one eyebrow up. “Then forget his sister.”

Charles sighs, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He begins retrieving bills. Eliott does his best not to show his surprise. Who carries that much cash?

“Half,” Charles says, slapping the money into Eliott’s waiting hand. “You’ll get the rest when I see him at that party.”

“Relax,” Eliott dismisses, counting the bills in hand with some satisfaction. “We’ll both get what we want.”

Notes:

You’ll have noticed this chapter is hella short (for me that is). This fic is laid out a little differently than my usual format. Chapters will be shorter and posted more frequently. Can’t guarantee the day but you’ll probably get a couple chapters a week.

This chapter was for my biggest (‘bigfest’ 😉) fan Mina 💞

Chapter 2

Notes:

Ok first, thank you so much to those of you still with me, messaging me, leaving comments and tags, etc. I can't express what it means. Truly one thing that hasn't changed since I wrote Tempo is that even if only one person had liked and commented, it would have made my whole damn life. So seeing more of you is just the best thing ever. So excited to have you all along for the journey!

And now, let's get to it...

Eliott watches, waiting until Lucas leaves before he approaches.

He thumps down on the bench next to Basile, who squeaks with surprise, and looks to Arthur as he speaks, “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Lucas?”

“I’m all ears.” The two stare at him dumbly.

“You wanna know about him?” Basile asks, looking one half confused, one half terrified.

Eliott nods. “What’s he into? What does he like?”

“Uh…” Basile looks dumbfounded. Eliott really hopes they’re better friends to Lucas than they’ve come across so far.

“He’s super smart,” Arthur begins, reaching to smack Basile on the knee as though to get him into the swing of sharing. “He doesn’t show off or anything but he’s a really good student.”

“He’s funny!” Basile adds, looking pleased at being able to contribute, though this is nothing Eliott didn’t already know.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “Like sarcastic and shit. He likes guys that can give it back.” That’s actually helpful. Eliott makes a sound of agreement, encouraging them to continue.

“He likes pretty guys,” Basile chips in. “You’ve got that going for you.” He grins at Eliott.

Eliott returns his smile with a light chuckle. “Think I’m pretty, do you?”

“You’re definitely his type,” Arthur says with a laugh.

“Yeah?” Eliott exhales, bouncing his eyebrows. “Kinda got the impression he couldn’t stand me.”

“That’s just Lucas,” Basile dismisses with an unconcerned wave of his hand, looking a lot more comfortable than he had when Eliott first sat down.

“It’s how he is with guys,” Arthur agrees. “He’s just like that.”

Eliott purses his mouth, thoughtful. “He doesn’t date at all?”

Arthur and Basile exchange a look Eliott can’t decipher. “No.” Arthur suddenly inhales with excitement. “He’s going to this thing tonight!” He reaches for his phone, searching for something to show Eliott. “You should go too. It’s the perfect chance to see him in his element.”

“In his element?”

Arthur nods eagerly. “He’s good times, I swear. He’s different here – at school.” Having found what he’s looking for, he hands his phone to Eliott.

Eliott looks down at the screen to see an invite for a show at a local bar. It’s a band he knows all too well. Bastien’s band.

“Shit.”

“What?” Basile leans closer to look down at the phone as well. “What’s wrong?”

“That might not be the best idea,” Eliott says, handing the phone back to Arthur. In truth, it’s both a brilliant idea and a terrible one. Eliott will have no problem getting into the show, even absent a ticket. He’s been to Bastien’s shows before and he’s more than a familiar figure with the crew. Each of those times, however, had ended with he and Bastien locked in the back room together enjoying a lot more than the music. It’s never been anything more than an occasional good time shared between two guys who appreciate one another’s physical attributes, but there’s no doubt that if Eliott shows at the bar tonight, Bastien will expect the night to end the same way. Eliott can reject him without consequence, of course. Bastien always has an immeasurable number of options. His good looks and ridiculously muscular body decorated with tattoos, always assures that. But with Lucas in common, Eliott isn’t positive he’ll be able to do so without Lucas catching on. And while Eliott has nothing to be ashamed of, he doubts Lucas learning Eliott and Bastien enjoy the occasional fuck will help his chances in convincing the prickly boy to date him.

“You gotta do it, man,” Arthur insists. “Lucas never goes out.”

“He’s only going because Daphne is going with him,” Basile adds with a wistful sigh.

Eliott pushes a hand back through his hair, expelling a loud breath. “He’s going for sure?”

Arthur nods eagerly. “We just talked about it, and he loves live music. He’ll be there.”

Eliott considers this, twisting his mouth as a thought occurs to him. “He’s not into Bastien, is he?”

Basile and Arthur laugh, which is at least, a somewhat comforting reaction.

“Nah,” Arthur denies. “He thinks he’s hot,” Eliott frowns, “but Bastien’s a little much for him. Going just makes him feel cool.”

“Alright,” Eliott allows, decision made. “I’ll be there.”

* * * *

“Tell me why I’m here again.”

Eliott grins, looking over his shoulder at Idriss as they enter the packed bar. “I told you, Idri. You’re here to play interference.” Also, so that Eliott doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable alone in the bar scene. He always does better with a security blanket. In this case, a security blanket in the form of his best friend. But that part doesn’t need to be said. Idriss is Eliott’s oldest friend. He knows.

“Right,” Idriss huffs. “Make sure the kid doesn’t find out you’ve appreciated more than Bastien’s talent with a needle.” A number of dirty jokes occur to Eliott – It’s bigger than a needle, trust me, foremost among them – none of them helpful in present context.

“Just help me make a good impression.” Eliott raises his voice to be heard over the noise as they make their way to the edge of the dance floor where the crowd has collected in front of the band on stage. “And help me find him.” Eliott strategically planned for them arrive late in the hopes he could find Lucas, flirt a little, maybe even secure a date, and do so all without running into Bastien.

Idriss too scans the space, but with a head of height over Eliott, his view is much less obstructed and it’s only about a minute before he’s bumping Eliott’s shoulder with his own and pointing to the crowd collected closest to the stage.

“That’s him, yeah?” They’d stalked Lucas on social media prior to coming to the bar to allow Idriss a look at the boy who had captured Eliott’s interest. Eliott had let him in on all the details of the arrangement, and while Idriss had loudly objected, something had quieted his staunch criticism when Eliott had shown him Lucas’s Instagram, opening the most recent picture posted as he’d described the boy to his friend.

Eliott looks in the direction Idriss is pointing, finding Lucas right in front of the stage. He’s dancing with who Eliott assumes is his sister, Daphne. There’s another girl with them as well, her much darker hair contrasting with the blonder complexions of the siblings. The three dance with total joy and abandon, spinning in circles as they jump and move to the music, wide smiles on each of their faces.

Eliott feels his mouth curl in a smile as he watches. If this is Lucas in his element, Eliott doesn’t want to see him any other way. He looks… stunning. There’s no other word for it. His face is lit up with happiness and it has the causal effect of making him look even more beautiful than he does normally. And Eliott isn’t the only one who notices. He catches appreciative glances from both men and women on the dance floor surrounding Lucas and the girls.

“He’s cute,” Idriss comments, leaning closer as they both watch the group. “Can see why you’re smitten.”

“I’m not smitten,” Eliott protests, but doesn’t take his eyes off Lucas, watching as he spins and laughs. “I’m doing it for the money. I told you.”

Idriss laughs, sounding unconvinced he responds, “Sure. Who’s he with?”

“His sister. Daphne.”

“And the other girl?”

Eliott shrugs, watching as the three lean together to speak, the song dwindling to a close. “Don’t know.” The girl and Lucas leave Daphne on the dance floor and begin making their way through the crowd, moving in Eliott and Idriss’s direction. Eliott knocks an elbow into Idriss’s side. “C’mon.”

Their timing couldn’t be more perfect, and they make it to the steps exiting the dance floor just as Lucas and the girl he’s with do. Lucas looks up when Eliott steps into his path.

“Are you kidding me?”

Eliott ignores the comment, smiling winningly. “I’m starting to think it might be you following me.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I promise, I’m not. I was invited.”

“By Bastien?”

Lucas shrugs. “What’s your excuse?”

“I know him too. Remember?” Eliott raises his arm, tracing a finger over the tattoos littered across the skin. There are a variety and none of them connect, resembling doodles filling a sheet of paper. Eliott loves each and every one of them. Not all were done by Bastien, but that detail is irrelevant at the moment.

Lucas’s eyes trace over Eliott’s exposed skin, lingering on his bicep before they dart away, cheeks newly pink. Eliott watches with interest. He’d worn a sleeveless tank more of out necessity than strategy. He runs hot and the bar is always uncomfortably sweaty. In the back of his mind however, maybe he’d given a moment’s thought to that time Idriss had told him this shirt makes him look ‘jacked’. Apparently, his choice had been more clever than he’d realized.

“Lucas?” The girl at Lucas’s side prompts, looking curiously between them.

“Let’s just –”

“Idriss,” Idriss interrupts Lucas’s attempt at a getaway. At least Eliott is 99% sure that’s what it was about to be. Idriss steps forward, offering a hand to the girl and leaning in to kiss her on the cheeks in greeting. It’s smooth and more forward than feels appropriate but then… that’s Idriss. “Forgive his manners.” He points a thumb in Eliott’s direction. “He sees your boy and forgets anyone else exists.” Eliott sighs loudly as the girl laughs. A quick glance to Lucas tells Eliott that the other boy is listening intently but doing his best to look like he’s not, face turned the other direction as he shifts impatiently on his feet.

“I’m Manon.” She smiles, looking appreciatively at Idriss before she glances to Eliott. “And you must be Eliott.”

“Manon!” Lucas hisses, his attention returning to his friend, his voice filled with reproach.

Eliott laughs, face breaking into a wide smile. “Heard of me?” He keeps his attention on Lucas who refuses to meet his eyes.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Lucas announces, quickly moving around Eliott and leaving the rest of them behind. Eliott watches him go before looking to Idriss in question.

Idriss nods before shaking his head with a smile. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Idriss exchanges a smile with Manon and that’s good enough for Eliott. He turns and hurries through the crowd, slowing as he approaches where Lucas is leaning against the top of the bar, pressed up on his toes to gain height in an effort to get the bartender’s attention. It makes Eliott smile.

He rests his forearms on top of the bar, leaning forward next to Lucas and sees the other boy’s attention focus on him out of the corner of his eye.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

“You mind?” Eliott looks to him only briefly before redirecting his attention to the bartender at the other end of the bar. “I’m just looking for a drink.”

“Right,” Lucas scoffs, looking down to the surface of the bar where he taps his fingers – with impatience or nerves, Eliott isn’t sure. “Good luck. He’s only serving people he wants to fuck.” Eliott wants to laugh at the comment, but as if on cue, the bartender moves in Eliott’s direction. Eliott couldn’t have scripted it better himself.

“Demaury,” Nico greets, his smile wide and filled with the sort of authentic sweetness only Niccolò Fares could pull off. He holds out a hand which Eliott happily clasps. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Eliott shrugs. “You know me. King of spontaneity.”

Nico laughs. “Pretty sure that’s my title. What can I get you?”

“Just a water,” Eliott requests before looking to Lucas whose attention is focused on the two, though it’s clearly with some reluctance, like his curiosity has won over his pride and he’s not quite sure how to feel about that. “For you?”

Lucas looks startled to have been addressed and he stumbles a little over his words. “Oh, uh – a water too. Please.”

Nico nods, quickly retrieving two bottles and doling them out. He shakes his head when Eliott offers him cash. “On the house.” And with a quick wink he’s off to service the rest of the waiting patrons.

“For the record,” Eliott drawls as he looks back to Lucas. “He has a boyfriend.” Eliott points to the end of the bar where Marti is in clear view, sitting with a friend, but looking at Nico adoringly every two seconds.

Lucas scoffs, fiddling with the bottle in his hands. “Whatever.” He meets Eliott’s eyes for a moment. “Why do you know everyone here?”

Eliott chuckles lightly. “I don’t. But I’ve been to a few shows.”

“Bastien’s?”

Eliott nods. “And others. I like live music.” It’s trying a little too hard, but Lucas doesn’t know Arthur and Basile have provided Eliott with information about him, and Eliott doubts the comment will arouse any suspicion. Besides, it’s partially true. Eliott would pick a quieter gallery opening over a bar with a live band, but he’s not averse to either.

“Do you just know him from the tattoo shop?”

Eliott nods and wants to say more but forces himself to turn away from the bar, walking back to side of the dance floor. It’s harder than it should be but then, he’s never had to work to get someone to chase him before. He holds himself tense until he feels Lucas at his side, and he relaxes with a smile, continuing the conversation as though there hadn’t been a pause.

“I know most of the artists at the shop, but Bastien best,” Eliott comments. Lucas nods but doesn’t say anything else and that just won’t do. “Is it going to be your first? The tattoo?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says around an exhale, looking to where a DJ has taken over the stage following the band’s set. “Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe.” It’s not, but he’s charmed by the petulance in Lucas’s tone, like he’s insulted someone has noticed he’s not covered head to toe in tattoos. “I was watching you earlier,” Eliott suddenly feels compelled to tell him. “When you were dancing. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.” His comment, shouted to be heard over the pounding music, corresponds perfectly to a gap in the song, transforming the compliment to a shouted declaration. Several people around them laugh. Eliott might be embarrassed if he cared in the least. As it is, all he can focus on is the way his would-be embarrassment has made Lucas laugh.

He looks at Eliott and his smile doesn’t dim, bright and amused. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat. “You’re kind of ridiculous.”

Eliott smiles, unapologetic. “I like to think romantic.” Lucas rolls his eyes but there’s something affectionate about it now, or Eliott would like to believe there is. “Lucas-”

“Yann!”

“What?” Eliott stares at Lucas in confusion, but Lucas’s attention has redirected, looking past Eliott’s shoulder. Eliott turns to see Yann approaching, and his attention swings back to Lucas. “You know Yann?”

Lucas nods, leaning to hug Yann as he reaches them. “Thought maybe I’d lost you to some groupies or something.”

Yann laughs with a shake of his head before he notices Eliott. “Hey. Eliott.” His eyes bounce between the two of them curiously. “You here for Bastien?” Eliott just barely flinches. He’d been worried Bastien would show up and unintentionally put a hitch in his plans. He hadn’t expected Yann. Yann, who happens to be the bassist in Bastien’s band and knows all the ways Bastien and Eliott like to enjoy one another on occasion, having walked in on one of those scenes himself.

“No,” Eliott answers quickly, looking significantly to Lucas before pasting on a smile, just a little false, and adding, “Just here to convince Lucas to go to that party on Friday with me.”

“Oh yeah?” Yann says with a slight laugh, eyebrows rising with surprise. He doesn’t seem to know what to make of the information. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“A work in progress,” Eliott admits, pleased when the comment makes Yann laugh.

“Yeah, well, our Lulu never did come easy.”

“Shut up,” Lucas huffs, shoving Yann in the shoulder. It’s done with the easy sort of comradery that speaks to an established friendship.

“I’m sure it would help if you put in a good word for me,” Eliott suggests. It’s asking a little much considering he will never forget the look of horror on Yann’s face when he’d walked in on Eliott with Bastien’s dick down his throat, but Eliott also doesn’t think Yann will hold it against him when casual flings are the mark of every would-be rockstar.

“We’re leaving,” Lucas declares before Yann has a chance to weigh in. He grabs Yann’s arm, dragging him along as his friend laughs.

“Alexia’s party?” Eliott calls after him. Lucas looks back over his shoulder with a shake of his head. “Was that a yes?”

“No,” Lucas calls back, turning away but not before Eliott catches the way he’s smiling.

“Was that a no?” Eliott yells before he disappears in the crowd.

“No!” Lucas yells without turning.

Eliott smiles. “Pick you up Friday then!”

* * * *

* * * * 

There’s a figure standing partially hidden by a tree as Eliott approaches Lucas’s home and it takes a second for Eliott to realize he recognizes him.

“Basile?”

The boy jumps, spinning around to face Eliott in alarm. “Oh! Hi! Eliott! Um… yeah. Hi.”

Eliott eyeballs him. “What are you doing lurking in the bushes?”

“I wasn’t!” Basile’s voice is high-pitched and panicked. Eliott takes pity on him.

“You’re here for Daphne?” He has to wonder how that’s working. Charles’ plan had been to pay for Eliott to take Lucas out so he could date Daphne. Where Basile fits into the whole thing, Eliott isn’t totally sure.

Basile nods. He’s definitely sweating. “Yeah, I… I was just going to go get her.”

Eliott smiles. “Nervous?”

“Yes,” Basile admits easily. “Aren’t you?”

Eliott shrugs. “Not really.” If there was a feeling Eliott had to settle on, he’d maybe call it one of anticipation. He’s looking forward to seeing Lucas again. Maybe more than he should be. He moves towards the front door, looking back when Bas doesn’t follow. “Coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll just… wait here.” He moves to the path leading from the front door. Eliott supposes it’s an improvement on hiding behind the tree. He chuckles as he continues.

It’s Daphne who greets him when the door swings open. She looks as surprised to see Eliott as he is to see her, but she recovers more quickly. He hasn’t said a word when she’s shouting back into the flat, “You see! His date is here!” She rounds with hands on her hips to face an older man who appears behind her. “I told you!”

The man – Lucas and Daphne’s father Eliott supposes – aims narrowed eyes at Eliott. “And who are you?”

Eliott steps through the front entrance with a hand extended. “Eliott Demaury, sir.” Their father doesn’t move to take Eliott’s hand, looking towards a small set of steps leading to a separated hallway.

“Is this true?”

Eliott follows the direction of his words, inhaling sharply as Lucas comes into view. He looks…

“Please, Lucas!” Daphne begs. “I never ask you for anything!”

Lucas holds his sister’s gaze before sighing loudly. He stomps down the steps, reaching for his jacket by the door. “Fine.” He barely makes eye contact with Eliott as he passes. “Let’s go.” Somewhat thrown by the scene, Eliott hurries to follow. Lucas notices Basile immediately. “Bas?”

“Hey Lu,” Basile greets, still looking like he’ll puke on his shoes at any moment.

Lucas chuckles, the tension in his shoulders easing. “She agreed to go with you? Seriously?” Basile doesn’t look offended by the incredulity in Lucas’s tone.

“Yeah… or kind of. I think so.”

Lucas slaps a hand to his friend’s shoulders. “Good. Better you than him.” He turns to yell back to the house where Daphne and their father still stand in the open doorway arguing. “Daphy, your date is here!” She looks to where they stand, her expression unreadable as she spots Basile.

She grabs for her jacket, dashing out towards them before her father can prevent her from leaving. “Later, Dad!”

“You’re both to be home no later than midnight!” Their father yells after them. “No drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, no ritual animal slaughters of any kind!”

Eliott chuckles, assuming he’s joking, but the serious look on their father’s face remains. He quickly looks away. Lucas meets his eyes with an eyebrow raised. “You have a ride?”

Eliott nods, gesturing to the car he’d borrowed from Idriss – Idriss’s parents more accurately. “As long as you know where we’re going.”

Lucas nods, shoving Bas who seems to be stuck in an awkward, silent staring match with Daphne. “Let’s roll then. Party awaits.”

Bas and Daphne settle into the back seat while Lucas takes his place as passenger, giving Eliott general directions as they set off. Eliott hears Basile ask Daphne a tentative question about the dress she wears and smiles as the two begin a stilted, but surprisingly endearing conversation.

“Your dad seems protective,” Eliott comments quietly, glancing sideways to Lucas.

Lucas makes a noise, not quite a laugh and definitely not expressed with genuine humour. “He’s not. He just wants to be in control.”

Eliott’s eyebrows bounce in surprise at the harsh quality of the comment. “Control you?”

“No,” Lucas disagrees. “Daphy.” He glances in the rear-view mirror to the couple speaking softly in the backseat. “He doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“Jesus,” Eliott breathes with a slight laugh. He doesn’t mean to but it’s hard to know how to react to the information Lucas has just thrown between them. “No love lost between you then.”

“Just because he’s my dad doesn’t mean I have to have some Christmas movie relationship with him or some shit.”

“I know,” Eliott agrees, feeling very much like he’s just put his foot in it. “I wasn’t judging, I was just –”

“Well, don’t,” Lucas interrupts, his voice cutting and cold. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about it.”

“Sorry,” Eliott apologizes, looking over to Lucas with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to do that.” He’s fucked up and they haven’t even made it to the party.

Lucas’s tense posture droops and he bites his lip. “No, it’s – it’s ok. Sorry.” He exhales heavily. “Didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

Eliott glances between him and the road with genuine surprise. “It’s ok.”

“He just pisses me off,” Lucas continues with a noise of aggravation. “And I get mad and sound like a dick.”

“Oh, is that why?” Eliott teases, tentatively looking to lighten the tone. And while Lucas does roll his eyes – of course – he smiles a little too. Eliott will call it a win.

“I’ve only ever been a dick to you, and you still asked me out,” Lucas says with a sniff. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Eliott laughs. “I think I like you better when you’re sweet.”

Lucas cuts his eyes sideways to him. “You’ve never seen me sweet.”

Eliott grins. “The night is young.” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he likes to think he can feel the way Lucas rolls his eyes.

* * * *

Daphne rushes into the party ahead of all of them, immediately latching onto a friend (Ingrid if Eliott catches her name correctly), leaving Basile in her dust. He looks bewildered but follows, looking tentatively back at Lucas who encourages him with a laugh and shooing motion.

“It’s not weird for you?” Eliott asks, finishing the thought when Lucas looks to him. “Your friend dating your sister?”

Lucas shrugs. “Bas is harmless. And he’s crushed on her forever. He’d be good for her.” Eliott can’t help but smile at that and Lucas notices. “What?”

Eliott shakes his head. “You’re sweet.” Lucas frowns instantly and it makes Eliott laugh.

“I’m not.”

“Sure, you are,” Eliott disagrees, cheeks aching with the breadth of his smile. “Sweet little marshmallow on the inside, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Lucas protests but it’s with a laugh and cheeks pink. He looks away. “I’m getting a drink. You want?”

Eliott nods, just barely covering his surprise. It would seem this night is to be full of surprises, paramount among them being Lucas. “Sure. Water?”

Lucas steps backwards, his eyes lingering for a moment before he turns, but not before Eliott notices his mouth curling in a smile. It fills Eliott with warmth to see.

The feeling is all too briefly enjoyed, however. A hand lands on Eliott’s shoulder and his good mood evaporates as he turns to see Charles’ smug, smiling face.

“Nicely done, Demaury. Was beginning to think you didn’t have it in you.”                                          

Eliott cringes, turning his body away from Charles and leaning against the wall as he looks in the direction Lucas disappeared. “Sure.”

“Don’t think I’ve seen him at a party since high school.”

Eliott hates that the comment captures his attention, but it does, and he looks back to Charles with interest. “You’ve known Lucas since high school?”

“Yeah,” Charles says with a laugh. It makes Eliott’s skin crawl. “He wasn’t always like this.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Eliott feels a bit sick. “He was actually pretty wild back then.” Eliott looks away. “Anyways,” Charles continues, “keep it up and you might just make enough to pay for your own dates.” Eliott doesn’t acknowledge the comment and Charles is distracted by someone he knows, turning with a loud laugh and moving to join his friends.

Eliott sighs, thumping his head back against the wall. Charles has known Lucas for years. There’s history and clear animosity there. Things are beginning to feel a lot more complicated. Eliott pushes away from the wall, intending on seeking out Lucas when Basile steps into his path.

“She didn’t even come here to be with me.”

Eliott stares at him in confusion. “What?”

“Daphne,” Basile answers, his tone defeated. He speaks as though he and Eliott had already been in the middle of a conversation. “I was just her excuse to go to the party.” He gestures towards the other room where Eliott can see Daphne has joined Charles, smiling adoringly as Charles speaks to his group of collected admirers. Lucas has appeared on the periphery, watching the scene with narrowed eyes. “She’s into him. Charles,” Basile continues, morose and more than a little whiny. Lucas has grabbed Daphne’s arm and pulled her away from Charles. The two are speaking angrily at the edge of the crowd. “I don’t think she ever liked me. Maybe if I’d been more –”

Eliott sighs, irritated, as he looks back to Basile. “Listen, do you like the girl, Basile?”

Basile nods, reluctant. “Yes, but –”

“Is she worth all this trouble?”

“I mean… I thought she was…”

Eliott grasps his shoulder. “Charles is forgettable. He’s the mistake. Let her realize that if she needs to, but you can’t let someone else decide how you feel about yourself.  You want her? Show her you’re the better man. If she doesn’t want you then, that’s on her.” Point made, he pats Basile encouragingly on the shoulder and turns. He locates Lucas and begins making his way across the room.

Daphne has returned to Charles’s side and Lucas… Eliott slows as he watches Lucas reach for a tray of shots being handed out, downing three in quick succession, before taking a mixed drink out of the hand of a passing partygoer.

“Hey.” Eliott presses a hand to Lucas’s lower back as he reaches him, waiting for Lucas to look at him. “What’s going on?”

Lucas chugs the drink in his hand, slamming it down to a table at their side. “What does it look like? I’m getting hammered. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”

Eliott shakes his head, wondering how the tone of the night has so disastrously changed in such a short span of time. “I don’t know. I say do whatever you want to do.”

“Funny,” Lucas scoffs. “You’re the only one.” He spins, stumbling in the direction of the kitchen as Eliott follows, until he reaches the selection of alcohol spread across the counter. He immediately pours himself a cup, and Eliott can’t help but notice he makes it at least 90% vodka.

“Are you sure you want to go this hard?” Eliott questions, concern seeping into his voice.

When Lucas rounds on him, it’s with a glare and stubborn tilt to his mouth. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Lucas…” Eliott sighs, knowing he’s already lost, “I know. I’m not trying to. Did something happen with your sister?”

Lucas’s attention cuts away and he breathes deeply. When he looks back it’s with a false smile that sends an instant chill down Eliott’s spine. “Loosen up, Eliott.” It’s the first time he’s said Eliott’s name. Eliott hates that it’s like this. “It’s a party – can’t always be the uptight one.” Eliott doubts those are words that originated with Lucas.

“Lucas –” But Lucas is already gone, pushing past Eliott and into the crowd, staggering as he goes with his drink tipped back to his mouth.

Eliott groans, running a hand down his face and wondering how his night has become this. He leans against a nearby wall, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling as he considers his next move. He’s not entirely sure how much time has passed when a soft, feminine voice interrupts his unhelpful musing.

“Eliott, have you seen Bas?”

Eliott looks sideways to see Daphne beside him, biting her lip as she searches the room around them.

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “Thought you were busy with Charles.”

Daphne has the decency to look a bit guilty. “Yes, well… he wasn’t what I expected.”

“Painfully narcissistic wasn’t what you expected?” Eliott glances back to where Charles still stands, the only one speaking, as a group of wide-eyed girls surround him, Daphne’s friend, Ingrid, included.

Daphne sighs, looking uncomfortable. “No? I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Maybe. But Bas – have you seen him?”

Eliott nods. “He was pretty upset.”

Daphne doesn’t look surprised. “Do you know where he went?”

Eliott points in the direction he’d last seen Basile. “I’m not sure if he stuck around.”

Daphne nods, looking determined. “Ok, thanks.” She turns to leave just as Charles’ voice suddenly booms from the center of the room.

“Oh shit! No fucking way!”

Both Eliott and Daphne’s attention swings to him in alarm, looking to what’s captured his attention and… Lucas.

Eliott pushes away from the wall, hurrying across the room to where Lucas has climbed to the top of the table in the dining room, dancing for the surrounding crowd. He’s fallen to his knees on the wooden surface, grinding to the beat of the music thumping through the space as the collected partygoers cheer him on.

“Now this,” Charles shouts, grabbing Eliott’s shoulders and shaking him, “is the Lucas I meant!” He steps forward to join the crowd circling the table, whistling as Lucas throws his head back, grinding his hips up as he runs a hand over his abs and chest, dragging his shirt up as he does so, in a move so suggestive Eliott feels his mouth go dry.

Eliott steps forward and has to clear his throat before he’s able to speak, calling Lucas’s name. He can barely hear his own voice over the noise of the surrounding crowd but Lucas’s eyes open, his head turning in his direction as his mouth curls into a smile. The drive of his hips doesn’t stop, and he moves to the beat as though he’s grinding on another body. He twists to center himself in Eliott’s direction but forgets that he’s positioned on an elevated table. Eliott leaps forward just as Lucas falls sideways, half catching him before he crashes to the floor.

“Shit,” Eliott breathes, setting Lucas’s on his feet and steadying him. “Are you ok?”

“Ugh.” Lucas presses a hand to his head looking mildly nauseous, the vertigo caused by his fall and the alcohol he consumed not a good match apparently.

“Come on,” Eliott suggests, ignoring the comments of those surrounding them encouraging Lucas to continue his ‘show’. “Let’s get you some air.” Lucas stumbles as he attempts to follow and Eliott wraps an arm around his back as he walks them in the direction of the back door. He grabs a bottle of water as they pass through the kitchen.

“This is so patronizing.”

Eliott exhales a quick huff of laughter, holding Lucas close as he leads them out into a back patio space. “Of course you’d use big words when you’re smashed.”

There are still too many people cluttered about, and he bypasses all of them, leading Lucas through a back gate and to a small grassy hill just to the side of the residences. Lucas slips from his arms the moment they reach the soft grass.

“Yes,” he mumbles, collapsing to his knees as he presses hands into the grass. “Good. Good. Ground. Grass.” He rolls onto his back with a happy sigh, letting his eyes slip shut.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Eliott warns. “I’m not carrying you.”

Lucas’s eyes blink open, if only to direct a narrowed glare up at Eliott who takes a seat next to him, his voice a little slurred.  

“So much for chilav - chivalry.”

Eliott snorts. “You want me to carry you?” It’s strange to know Lucas so little and yet, to still know Lucas would rather eat glass than be in a position of feeling so needy.

“No,” Lucas answers, just as Eliott expected, before adding, “Like you’d care if I didn’t ever wake up.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow at the comment. “I would. Might need to start taking out boys who actually like me.”

Lucas scoffs. “Like you could find one.”

“Ah, there he is,” Eliott says with a grin. “Missed those fangs.”

“No fangs,” Lucas disagrees, voice slow. “Spikes.”

Eliott blows out a breath, amused. Spikes. “That works. You’ve got those.” Eliott’s eyes skim across where Lucas is spread on the grass. His hair is in disarray, the strands slightly spread above his head somewhat resembling the very spikes he claims to have. Eliott’s hand twitches at his side with a desire to touch that he just barely represses.

Lucas hums, but doesn’t otherwise respond, blinks growing heavier.

“Sit up,” Eliott suggest, holding out the bottle of water. “Have some.”

Surprisingly, Lucas does as told, pushing up from his hands until he’s somewhat vertical and reaching for the bottle of water. “Thank you.”

Eliott presses his lips together to hide his smile. “You’re welcome.” He looks away, staring back towards the party where the sound of the music still thumps.

“So that was… something.” He speaks cautiously, hesitant as to whether mentioning Lucas’s unexpected performance will provoke rage or shame in the other boy – neither an emotion Eliott particularly wants to inspire. “I think you made Charles’ night.”

“I hate that guy.”

Eliott looks back to Lucas, surprised to hear him acknowledge as much. “Because of your sister?” Lucas shakes his head in denial but doesn’t clarify what it is he does mean. “He said he’s known you since high school,” Eliott admits.

Lucas’s eyes snap back to him, looking cautious and unsure. “Yeah.”

Eliott lets his mouth turn up in a slanted smile. “He as much of a dick back then too?”

Lucas exhales a laugh and Eliott doesn’t think he’s imagining the relief in it. “Yes. Worse.”

Eliott’s eyebrows rise. “Hard to believe.” Lucas hums in agreement but doesn’t say anything more. “Why do you let him get to you?”

Lucas exhales, setting the water aside and slumping back onto the grass. Eliott follows suit until they lay side by side, staring up at the night sky. “I hate that she likes him.”

“Daphne?” Eliott clarifies, turning his head to stare at Lucas’s profile. Lucas nods. “Not sure she does anymore,” Eliott comforts. “Seemed pretty disillusioned with him tonight.” He intends the comment to make Lucas feel a bit better about the situation, but Lucas doesn’t look buoyed by the thought at all.

“I do everything for her,” Lucas slurs, sounding more sleepy than drunk.

“What do you mean?”

Lucas rolls his head until he’s looking at Eliott, a blurry quality to his eyes even as they focus on Eliott. “Would’a moved out if it hadn’t been for her. She wanted to stay with him.”

“Your dad?”

Lucas nods. “Could’ve moved in with Yann.”

“Why do you have to stay for her?” There’s clearly a history Eliott can’t hope to understand after only an evening spent with Lucas, but he finds that he wants to. He turns to look back to the night sky as he considers the unfamiliar desire.

“She wanted to. I didn’t want her to be alone. He’s such an ass.”

It’s all a bit nonsensical, but Eliott supposes Lucas is still quite drunk and it’s asking a lot to expect a more coherent explanation.

“You love her a lot, hunh?”

Lucas makes a sound in reply. It’s neither agreement, nor disagreement. “She’s my sister.”

“Does she look out for you the same way?”

Silence is the only reply and initially Eliott thinks it’s because Lucas doesn’t want to answer – doesn’t have an answer. Until he glances over and sees Lucas’s eyes have slipped closed, his breathing slow and steady.

Eliott sits up quickly. “Lucas, wake up.” He leans over the prone boy, shaking his shoulders before pressing one hand to Lucas’s face. “Wake up.” Eliott intends to slap Lucas’s cheek but finds himself brushing a thumb gently against the skin instead.

Lucas’s eyes flutter open, focusing on Eliott’s face with slow awareness. “Hey,” He sits up and Eliott mirrors the motion, backing up slightly as his hand drops from Lucas’s face, “your eyes look green in this light.”

Eliott exhales a breath of laughter, his smile wide as he stares at this strange, drunken, and far too beautiful boy. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

* * * *

“Stop here.”

Eliott slows the car to a stop, parking at the side of the road, half a block from Lucas’s home.

“Hiding me from your dad?”

Lucas huffs. “If Daphy’s not back, I don’t want him to notice me getting home.” Lucas had confirmed in a text with Basile that Daphne was with him prior to them leaving the party but hadn’t gotten any information beyond that.

“You want to drive around for a bit longer?” Eliott asks. “Waste some time?”

“Time with me is never a waste.”

The comment is so unexpected and spoken in such a deadpan tone, it takes Eliott totally by surprise. He laughs, smiling widely when Lucas turns to him with a laugh of his own, looking sweet and delighted at having made Eliott react in such a way.

“You’re really funny, you know that?”

Lucas purses his lips, his eyes dropping to his lap but it’s obvious he’s pleased by the compliment. “I’m going next week to get my tattoo.”

It takes Eliott a second to catch up to the comment, but he quickly responds when Lucas looks back up, expression hesitant and uncertain.

“Yeah? Need some company?” It’s said mostly in jest. He’d be happy to go with Lucas, but he doesn’t in any way expect the response he gets.

“If you want.”

Eliott mouth drops open. “Really?”

Lucas bites his lip with a shrug. He’s projecting a false confidence that Eliott would guess is more reflective of his nerves than anything else. Or maybe he’s just coming to know Lucas better.

“You know everyone at the shop anyways...”

“When?”

Lucas’s lips twitch as he stifles a smile. “Thursday after classes.”

“Ok,” Eliott agrees, smiling softly. “I’ll be there.” He turns in his seat, reaching to poke Lucas in his side. “As long as you still like me by then.”

“Who says I like you now?” Lucas asks with a sniff, but he’s turning his body to face Eliott too.

Eliott bounces one shoulder in a half shrug, not wanting to push his luck any further. “Just a feeling.”

Lucas holds eye contact, a question in his gaze that Eliott can’t interpret enough to answer, when suddenly he’s moving, pressing forward into Eliott’s space and connecting their lips.

Eliott falls back into his seat, mostly out of surprise, but partially due to the force with which Lucas has invaded his space, kissing with a ferocity Eliott didn’t expect – wouldn’t have expected even if he had anticipated a kiss.  

Eliott makes a muffled sound, mouth parting, and Lucas takes it as invitation, licking at Eliott’s lips as he begs entrance. It’s a lot all at once but there’s a beautiful boy begging for reciprocation, and Eliott has never been one to question good things when they fall in his lap – or crawl into his lap in this case.

He helps Lucas settle either leg straddling his lap and moves one hand to cup Lucas’s face, the other wrapping around his back to secure him tightly to Eliott. Lucas is soft and pliant in his hold, twisting one hand in Eliott’s hair as he kisses, sweetly eager. He kisses like he hasn’t quite decided what he likes but he’s keen to find out. Eliott is more than happy to play a part in that discovery.

Eliott strengthens his hold on Lucas’s face, taking control of the kiss and gentling the connection of their lips. He slants their mouths together as their tongues brush, until Lucas’s hands drop to his chest, gripping the shirt tightly as he sinks into Eliott’s body with a satisfied noise. Eliott hasn’t kissed like this in years, like the point is only to kiss, like two horny teenagers without a better place to makeout. Eliott supposes apart from their ages, that last assessment is almost exactly accurate.

Lucas’s tongue darts into his mouth, and Eliott meets him halfway, pleasure singing from the point of contact until they’re both shifting against one another. The desire for more is there between them, the knowledge that they aren’t teenagers making out for the first time, insistent at the back of Eliott’s mind until he can’t ignore the way his body has responded, and he presses up, hot and hard beneath Lucas’s thigh.

Lucas pulls back from the kiss, his face split in a smile so breathtakingly beautiful, Eliott finds himself momentarily stunned. He doesn’t pick up on Lucas’s intentions until his zipper is down, Lucas’s hand slipping beneath the waistband of his briefs.

“Lucas,” Eliott gasps, reaching wildly for Lucas’s hand, “wait.” He has to satisfy himself with Lucas’s wrist, inhaling sharply at the feel of Lucas touching the base of his dick.

“What?” Lucas questions with a teasing smile. He shoves his hand further despite the resistance of Eliott’s hold, until fingers properly pet heated skin, flushed and hardening with a rush of blood and need. “Don’t you want it? Feels like you do.”

“You’re drunk.”

Lucas’s movements freeze, his voice instantly leeched of its former warmth. “I’m fine.” But the reality of the situation is slamming into Eliott with as much force as Lucas’s kiss had. Eliott was paid to take Lucas out tonight. There’s a huge lie caught between them that Eliott never expected would have any bearing. Because he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected Lucas. He hadn’t expected to feel like this.

“Lucas,” Eliott tries, tone soft, “we shouldn’t – like this.” There’s a plea buried beneath the words, a request that Lucas not take this for the rejection it is, but it falls on deaf ears. Lucas scrambles out of his lap, falling back into his seat.

“Fine.” He’s reaching for his coat in the back seat and straightens his rumpled clothing, a stilted, uncomfortable strain to each movement.

“Lucas…” Eliott tries, reaching for him, but Lucas is already throwing the car door open and clambering out. He doesn’t say another word to Eliott, and he doesn’t look back, hurrying away from the car.

Eliott sighs loudly, thumping his head back against the car seat.

“Fuck.”

* * * *

Notes:

I forgot to say on the last chapter but if you want to chat, aside from the comments, best place is my tumblr: surrealsunday

And a little shout-out to Julie who helped me out with my endless photoshop questions and demands that she find me a very specific picture that she was to know despite my total lack of description, and her inability to be inside my brain. Couldn't do it without you, brat <3.

I expect the next chapter to be ready by Friday/ Saturday.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Heyo!

Sorry I was late on replies for comments in the last chapter. We've hit the most insane time for me at work so I'm barely keeping my head above water until holidays. I'll do my best to be more punctual this chapter!

Just a warning (not sure if it needs to be one but just in case): Tattooing is mentioned in this chapter including the mention of needles and blood.

 

* * * *

Eliott waits outside the lecture hall, tapping fingers against his leg anxiously. He pulls his phone out to check the time once again. Two minutes. Two minutes until Lucas’s lecture lets out and Eliott can fix this. Fix this how, he isn’t quite sure. His DM to Lucas on Instagram following the party had received no response. And without his actual phone number, Eliott doesn't have a wide variety of options for communication. Taking classes at the same school, however, helps. Well… helps so long as Lucas allows Eliott to speak to him.

Eliott inspects his hands, picking at the remnants of paint he hadn’t managed to scrub off. He’d had a burst of creativity over the weekend which meant the majority of his time was spent in the studio. It had at least served as a distraction from his unanswered messages to Lucas.

He straightens, pushing off the wall as the lecture hall begins to empty, and searches the students for Lucas’s face. It’s just as he appears, Yann beside him with Basile and Arthur trailing behind, that another familiar face emerges among the students waiting for the lecture hall to clear. The last one Eliott wants to see.

Charles smiles as he steps in front of Eliott, smarmy and cocksure. “Here for the second half, Demaury? Guess you’re due.”

“Shut up!” Eliott hisses, grabbing Charles arm and dragging him to the side of the hall. He risks a look beyond Charles’ shoulder but no longer sees Lucas among the departing swarm of students. “Keep your voice down.”

“What?” Charles laughs. “Worried he’ll overhear?” He scoffs. “It’s a done deal anyways. Though…” He raises an eyebrow in consideration, and Eliott is positive he doesn’t want to hear whatever is to come next. “Didn’t get my money’s worth with Daphne. If you’re interested in upping the stakes, I might be willing to sweeten the pot.” Charles has pulled his wallet from his pocket and begins shuffling through the cash therein.

“I’m not,” Eliott answers immediately, dropping a hand over Charles’ and shoving the wallet down with another agitated look around them. “It’s done. I don’t want your money.” Eliott’s stomach drops as his eyes meet the familiar blue of Lucas’s beyond Charles' shoulder. Lucas stands with Yann, looking between Eliott and Charles with narrowed eyes. He holds Eliott’s gaze for a beat before he turns away, letting Yann lead him down the hall with a hand to his back and whispered words. He hadn’t been close enough to overhear Charles and Eliott’s conversation… Eliott doesn’t think.

“Not even what’s promised?”

Eliott looks away from Lucas’s departing form to see Charles holding cash out to him. “I don’t…” He shakes his head. He can’t take the money. It wouldn’t be right. Not after what happened.

“A deal’s a deal,” Charles says, looking unconcerned.

And Eliott does need the money. Spending it on himself though – even the debt that cripples him – feels wrong in a way Eliott can’t allow himself to consider. Finding a way to spend the money on Lucas, however… surely, that would tip the scales of morality in Eliott’s favour? He reaches to take the money with a nod, ignoring the way it makes Charles chuckle. Eliott shoves the cash into his back pocket, an even more burdensome weight settling itself on his shoulders.

“I’m taking Daphne to the pre-exam mixer next week.” Charles speaks as though Eliott gives a damn. Eliott isn’t sure what’s more ridiculous, a pre-exam party courtesy of the richest faculty, or the assumption Daphne is interested in going with Charles. Eliott goes with the latter.

“She know that?”

Charles ignores the question. “It would help if Lucas was there.” Eliott spine stiffens.

“I told you we’re done. I’m sick of playing your little game. I don’t want any part of this anymore.”

“What?” Charles scoffs. “You actually like him or something?” Eliott’s silence speaks for itself and Charles laughs, the sound grating on Eliott’s last nerve. “Seriously?!”

“Just leave it alone,” Eliott warns.

Charles only shakes his head as he walks backwards away from Eliott, relaxed, and amused in a way that sets Eliott’s teeth on edge. “Take it from me, he’s not worth it.” He spins, continuing into the lecture hall with a cocky sway to his gait.

Eliott scrutinizes the back of his head, mulling over the words. There’s a history between Charles and Lucas that Eliott hasn’t quite sorted out. He’s not sure he wants or even needs to, but it seems pivotal to the situation he’s stepped into.

Eliott files the thought away for later, turning in the direction Lucas left. He can’t worry about Charles right now. Not when there’s a mouthy, taciturn, beautiful boy Eliott needs to find himself on the good side of… and he has no idea where to begin.

One problem at a time.

* * * *

It’s a few hours and another session of working out his tension in the studio later that Eliott finds Lucas in the courtyard outside the faculty buildings. He’s kicking around a football with Basile and Arthur, along with a few others Eliott doesn’t know. Yann sits on a bench to the side of their makeshift pitch. Eliott hedges his bets, walking in Yann’s direction while the others play.

Yann looks up from his phone when Eliott settles himself straddling the bench facing him.

“Hey.”

Yann raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look like he’s about to bite Eliott’s head off. “Hey.”

Eliott pinches his lower lip between fingers as he considers how to approach this conversation. “Uh… so…”

“Yeah, he’s pissed.”

Eliott drops his hand.

Yann chuckles, looking relaxed and amused. “Figured I’d just skip the awkward small talk. That’s what you wanted to know, right?”

Eliott exhales something resembling a laugh. “Uh… yeah. I guess so.” He risks a quick glance to where the boys shout and push, laughing as they chase one another across the stone courtyard. “He is, hunh?”

“It might be my fault.”

Eliott looks back to Yann in surprise. That was the last thing he expected to hear. “How’s that?”

Yann sighs, looking towards the other boys before he meets Eliott’s eyes. “I didn’t realize you actually liked him.” When Eliott doesn’t respond, Yann’s eyes narrow. “You do, right?”

“Yeah,” Eliott nearly chokes on the word in his rush to answer. “I – yeah, I didn’t really expect it but… I do.”

Yann nods like this has confirmed something he already knew. “I didn’t get it until after – when he told me about the party.”

Eliott quails a little. “Told you what?” Told you how much? Is what he really wants to ask.

Yann’s mouth twists but he doesn’t directly answer the question. “I might have given him the impression you’re into more casual…” He raises a hand, spinning a finger between them in suggestion. “You know.”

Eliott doesn’t need more information to read between the lines. “You told him about Bastien?”

Yann cringes, looking mildly guilty. “Yeah. Sorry, bro.”

Eliott sighs. He should have expected as much. As a matter of fact, he had. He’d just lost sight of the worry in the middle of… well… everything else. Lucas’s infuriatingly perfect face for one.

“It’s fine. Better he knows.”

“I just didn’t want him to get hurt,” Yann explains.

Eliott nods. “So, he’s pissed? About me and Bastien?”

Yann’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “No. He doesn’t care that you two hooked up.”

Eliott’s confusion matches Yann’s surprise. “But… you said he’s pissed…”

Yann chuckles, wiping a hand down his face as he shakes his head. “Yeah, because I told him you’re down for casual but when he tried…” He trails off, letting Eliott fill in the blanks.

“But – he – he was drunk,” Eliott stutters. “I didn’t want to take advantage! And I – I –” Eliott exhales heavily, pulling a hand back through his hair. “I don’t think I want that with him. Casual, I mean.”

Yann smiles in a way Eliott will interpret as approval. “Good.”

“He thinks I rejected him.” There’s no need to point out the obvious but Eliott does so anyways, if only to clarify his thoughts. “He thinks I hook up with whoever – with Bastien – but I won’t with him.”

Yann nods. “That about sums it up.”

Eliott exhales a loud breath, letting himself smile properly for the first time. “He’s so dumb.”

Yann laughs. “He can be, yeah.”

“So, what do I do now? Do I apologize?” As though his words served as a signal, the football whizzes directly by Eliott’s head, so close his hair is ruffled by it. Eliott flinches and he and Yann turn to see Lucas standing some distance away, his mouth pressed in a hard line. He turns away with a comment directed at Basile to retrieve the ball.

Eliott continues to stare, hearing Yann laugh beside him. “Might take something grander than that.”

“Shit,” Eliott breathes.

Something grander. Eliott can do that.

* * * *

“This is a stupid idea,” Idriss drawls from where he sits on the couch with Manon under his arm.

Eliott reaches for his coat, looking back to the maybe-dating pair with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s the best idea I have.”

“I think it could work,” Manon encourages with a smile. “Just pray Lucas doesn’t take you up on it.”

Eliott gestures to the tattoos decorating his arms. “Don’t really care if he does. I can live with it.” He begins pulling on his coat.

“You really think he’ll fall for this?” Idriss questions, his expression softening as he looks to the girl tucked beside him.

“He’s a romantic,” Manon says, “though he’d never admit it. I don’t think he’s ever had someone make such a grand gesture on his behalf before.” Grand gesture. That’s just what Eliott wants to hear. He smiles.

“Dumb gesture is more like it,” Idriss disagrees with a laugh, looking to Eliott. “Better hope he’s as dumb as you.”

Eliott almost rolls his eyes, reminding himself too much of Lucas to follow-through. “He’s gotta be dumb to like me.”

“Hey,” Idriss’s tone instantly changes to a more serious, reprimanding tone. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Eliott chuckles, slipping on his shoes. “You’re allowed to say it but I’m not?”

“That’s right.” Idriss raises an eyebrow in challenge. “You watch your mouth when you talk about my friend.” Eliott laughs as he moves to leave, but doesn't miss the way Manon turns to look at Idriss, the affection on her face unmistakable. They're quite cute, Eliott supposes.

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck!” Manon chirps. “Don’t be put off by him being… well… Lucas.”

Eliott grins. “I definitely won’t.” He’s feels confident Lucas being Lucas is to become one of his absolute favourite things. He pauses just as he swings the door to the hall open, pointing to the two in warning. “Don’t have sex on the couch.”

He manages to shut the door just in time to hear the shoe Idriss throws thump against it.

* * * *

The smile on Lucas’s face drops the moment he sees Eliott sitting in Bastien’s chair.

“Hear me out,” Eliott raises his hands, praying Lucas won’t bolt. “I know you’re pissed but… I can make it up to you.”

Lucas’s mouth twists. He glances at Bastien who sits to Eliott’s side, an easy smile on his face, before he looks back to Eliott, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Fine. What?”

Adrenaline pumps through Eliott’s veins at the semi-opening. “You’re getting your tattoo tonight, yeah?”

Lucas’s eyebrows rise, his tense posture relaxing slightly. “You remember that?”

Eliott is momentarily struck dumb by Lucas’s surprise. “Yeah, of course. I promised I’d be here.”

They stare at one another, caught in a suspended moment until Bastien clears his throat, making Lucas blink and Eliott reorder his thoughts.

“I’ll get one too,” Eliott states.

Lucas’s expression remains unchanged, skeptical, and impatient. “How does that make it up to me?”

“You can choose it.”

Lucas’s mouth parts, his arms dropping to his sides. “What?”

Eliott does his best to hold back a smile. “Whatever you want. I’ll get it.”

“A tattoo?”

Eliott nods, though he knows Lucas is following. “Wherever and whatever you want.”

One of Lucas’s eyebrows rises. “Yeah? So, if I tell you to tattoo Trump’s face on your ass, you’d do it?”

Eliott shrugs. “I’d say an ass is a perfect place for Trump’s face.” He doesn’t miss the way Lucas’s lips twitch up in the corners.  

“So?” Bastien prompts from beside them as they continue to stare at one another. “You two have a deal or what? Got other appointments tonight.”

Lucas holds Eliott’s gaze. “What do you get out of it?”

“You give me another chance,” Eliott answers immediately.

“Another chance as in…”

“A date.” Eliott mouth curls into a small smile. It’s impossible to miss the way Lucas’s face has gained a flush of colour. “Not a one-time thing,” Eliott adds, hoping the implication is clear. Lucas blinks.

“Ok.”

“Yeah?” Eliott lets his face split into a wide smile. “A deal?”

Lucas cocks an eyebrow. “As long as you get the tattoo.”

Eliott nods. “A deal’s a deal.” It’s an unfortunate choice of words and even worse reminder of how he got here. Eliott shakes away the feeling. He nods his head towards the wall decorated with various designs from the shop’s artists. “Better get choosing.”

Lucas grins, his first proper smile since arriving at the tattoo shop, and Eliott isn’t sure he likes the look of it at all. “No need. Already know exactly what you’re getting.”

Eliott might be sitting, but he suddenly very much would like to take a step backwards.

* * * *

Lucas erupts into giggles from where he sits in an adjoining tattoo chair and if it weren’t so goddamn adorable, Eliott might be able to pull off a more irritated expression.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Lucas asks, snorting through his laughter. He might be the cutest thing Eliott has ever seen. It’s incredibly inconvenient. “The font is beautiful. Very artistic.”

“I have a small wiener,” Eliott recites, looking down at the script Bastien has just laid down on Eliott’s forearm as a stencil. Lucas had at least kept the script small but it’s little comfort. “You couldn’t have come up with something more creative? Symbolic?”

“You’d rather I draw a dick on your arm?” Lucas questions with a devilish smile. “I could freehand it. Make sure it’s big.”

Eliott would really like to kiss that smile right off his face. Being around Lucas is an interminable exercise in restraint. “I’ll make do.”

Bastien chuckles, readying his supplies. “It’ll make a good story.”

“It’s not even true,” Eliott pouts, though he says it only for Lucas’s benefit. Bastien is already well aware.

Lucas snorts. “Not like I’d know.” The comment is pointed and meant to get a rise. Eliott would probably take the bait – Lucas damn well got enough of a feel to have a pretty good idea – if he weren’t currently sweating at the sight of Bastien readying the tattoo gun with ink.

Bastien grips Eliott’s forearm, steading it against the wide arm of the tattoo chair. “Ready?”

Eliott swallows heavily, staring down at the script on his arm. He remembers what he’d asked Basile at the party: Is she worth all this trouble? Basile had answered yes, though he’d understandably hesitated. There’s no hesitation in the voice that answers Eliott. Yes, Lucas is worth it.

“Ready.”

Bastien shakes his head, but he brings the needle to Eliott’s arm, dropping his head as he readies himself to begin, when Lucas suddenly breaks the silence that’s fallen with a high-pitched yelp of reproval.

“Stop!”

Eliott and Bastien both freeze, looking to Lucas in surprise. Lucas’s mouth has fallen open, and he stares at Eliott as though frozen with shock.

“What?” Eliott asks when it becomes apparent Lucas doesn’t intend on saying anything else.

“You –” Lucas’s eyes flick between Eliott’s face and where Bastien still holds the tattoo gun hovering over Eliott’s skin. “You were really gonna do it?”

Eliott’s eyebrows pinch together. “Yes?”

“You’re…” Lucas trails off, when suddenly his face transforms. All former pretences dropped, he smiles, bright, happy, and so very genuine, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the sight quite literally robs Eliott of breath. “I can’t believe you were going to do that.”

Eyes momentarily caught on the curve of Lucas’s lips, there’s a delay before Eliott’s brain catches up. “You’re not going to make me get it?”

Lucas snorts like the idea is crazy. “No.” Bastien sighs, releasing Eliott’s arm as he pushes back his chair, dropping his equipment to his table.

“But…” Eliott’s eyes trace the features of Lucas’s face. “The date?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. It’s the most welcome sight Eliott could ever imagine. “I’ll go out with you. Not if you get that tattoo though.”

Eliott smiles, so ecstatically happy he’s not sure how he’s supposed to go any longer without kissing Lucas. And if he’s not mistaken, the feeling is mutual. Lucas’s eyes drop to Eliott’s mouth, lingering there as his cheeks deepen to a most alluring pink.

“This is cute and all,” Bastien drawls, interrupting the moment. “But I do have other clients…” While Eliott’s focus stays on Lucas, Lucas turns his attention quickly to Bastien, immediately apologetic.

“Sorry. I’ll still get mine.”

Eliott perks up with interest. “What are you getting?”

Lucas looks back to him while Bastien begins prepping his equipment anew. He looks hesitant but he answers. “Something for my mom. Bastien designed it.”

Eliott glances in the direction of the tattoo artist before looking back to Lucas with a smile. “He is the best. Does your mom know?”

Lucas shakes his head, looking down to his hands which he twists anxiously in his lap. When he looks back up there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “She passed away. When I was in high school.”

Eliott inhales sharply, not having expected that at all. “I’m – I’m sorry.”

Lucas shrugs with a small smile. “She’d probably yell at me if she knew, to be honest.”

“Nah,” Bastien disagrees, sliding his chair up next to Lucas. “You’re honouring her. She’d love it.” He waits for Lucas to roll up the sleeve of his t-shirt before he positions Lucas’s arm so that he has access to the inner part of his bicep. He begins prepping the skin.

“It’s her favourite flower,” Lucas explains, looking to Eliott. “But with thorns to, like, protect it, or whatever.” He shrugs, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Plus, she always was a little prickly.”

Eliott chuckles. “Must get it from her.” Lucas looks pleased by the compliment – which is exactly what it was. Eliott leans over to see the stencil Bastien has just revealed on Lucas’s arm. It looks to be a lily. It’s not a flower with thorns typically, but the way Bastien has designed the flower is beautifully creative. The tip of each petal narrows to a razer-sharp extended point, both beautiful and threatening. Eliott couldn’t imagine a more perfect tattoo or a more perfect recipient.

“Beautiful.” He’s looking at Lucas as he says it.

* * * *

“Almost done,” Bastien comforts, wiping away blood as he brings the needle back to Lucas’s skin.

Lucas inhales, gripping Eliott’s hand tightly as Bastien continues. Eliott can’t remember exactly when he’d offered his hand, but Lucas hadn’t hesitated in accepting it. And maybe Eliott feels a little like a teenager with his first real crush all over again, swooning over holding hands with someone he really likes, but he won’t apologize for it. It’s the most fun he’s had – the most he’s felt – in a really long time.

“Jesus,” Lucas breathes, blinking slowly as he stares up at the ceiling.

Eliott looks to where Bastien is finishing the shading nearer Lucas’s inner elbow. Lucas hadn’t chosen any colour for the tattoo, but Bastien has done a painstaking job with shading, and it looks quite spectacular.

“That spot’s always extra sensitive,” Eliott comments.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Lucas says through gritted teeth.

Eliott laughs softly, bringing Lucas’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Lucas turns his head, watching him intently. “Better?”

Lucas shakes his head. “No.” His eyes drop to Eliott’s lips.

Eliott smiles, bringing Lucas’s hand back to his mouth, he presses a kiss to a knuckle, letting his lips linger there before dragging them over the skin to the next knuckle. He gives it the same treatment, continuing until he’s adequately worshiped the back of Lucas’s hand. He looks back up to see Lucas’s attention hasn’t left him, his pupils dilated and eyes just a touch unfocused, clouded with a feeling Eliott is sure he’s reflecting back: Want.

“There.”

Eliott startles, letting Lucas pull back his hand as both of their attention turns to where Bastien is cleaning the finished tattoo.

“Done?” Lucas asks, twisting his arm in an attempt to get a better look.

Bastien nods, pointing to the nearby mirror. “Go have a look.”

Lucas quickly leaps up from the chair, hurrying to the mirror as Bastien and Eliott watch. He twists and poses as he admires Bastien’s work with a wide smile.

“Can’t say I blame you.”

Eliott glances sideways at Bastien, raising an eyebrow in question. Bastien gestures to where Lucas is showing off his tattoo to the other artists in the shop. Emma oooh’s and aww’s in appreciation.

“The way you’re looking at him,” Bastien clarifies. “He’s really something.”

Eliott smiles, meeting Lucas’s eyes when he seeks Eliott out across the shop. He holds the contact.

“Yeah,” he agrees, so drawn to Lucas, he finds himself taking a step forward, driven by an impulse to be closer. “He is.”

* * * *

Lucas looks to Eliott before his attention darts away as they exit the tattoo shop.

“So, I guess I should…”

“Come somewhere with me.” The impulse to take Lucas to the one spot Eliott never brings anyone is sudden and too strong to ignore. He grins when Lucas looks to him in surprise. “You promised me a date.”

“Not tonight,” Lucas answers with a huff, but he’s smiling and already turning in the direction Eliott leads.

“Didn’t stipulate that, now did you?” Eliott reaches for his hand, weaving their fingers back together. “I want to show you something.” He waits for Lucas to nod – which he does after another hanging moment of suspense – before he takes off, breaking into a jog as Lucas laughs and runs with him.

They’re close to the gate Eliott uses anytime he visits the park, and it’s for that reason the idea had occurred to him in the first place. He’s forced to drop Lucas’s hand as they run, but he can’t stop looking over to him. The streetlamps make Lucas’s face glow in the early evening light, and Eliott surrenders to the temptation to admire him. It nearly has him running directly into a light pole, but Eliott can’t complain about that when it makes Lucas laugh so hard, he has to stop in the middle of the street to catch his breath.

Lucas does, however, hesitate when Eliott hunches over to pick the lock at the gate.

“Breaking and entering?”

Eliott looks back up with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Scared?”

“Of being fined or arrested?” Lucas questions, obviously determined not to take the bait. “It’s not on my list of things to do.”

“Come on,” Eliott drawls, pushing the gate open and walking through it backwards as he looks at Lucas. “Live a little.”

“You just want me locked in a tiny cell with you.”

The comment takes Eliott so by surprise, he chokes on his laughter. “You’re convinced I like you that much, hunh?”

Lucas follows him through the gate, tucking his hands into his pockets as he shrugs, taking in their surroundings. “Don’t you?” Eliott’s certain Lucas means to sound confident, but there’s an underlying insecurity he can’t help but notice. Maybe because it’s familiar.

Eliott supposes a little honesty couldn’t hurt. The irony isn’t lost on him but… better now than not at all.

“I do,” Eliott admits with an easy smile, enjoying the way Lucas’s eyes dart back to him, wider than before. “Can imagine all kinds of things we could do in a cell.”

The shadows of the trees are swallowing them in darkness, but Eliott is still positive Lucas is blushing. “Pervert.”

Eliott laughs. “I was going to suggest macramé. Why? What’d you have in mind?”

Lucas ignores the question. “Turn around. You’re going to trip.” Eliott does as told but keeps his eyes on the boy at his side, bumping their shoulders as they walk. Lucas squints as he tries to make out their surroundings. “It’s getting dark as fuck.” It has grown a lot darker in the trees and without the aid of streetlights. Eliott pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight.

“I’ll guide us.”

Lucas eyes him skeptically but there’s a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so…”  

“Charming?” Eliott fills in with a grin. When Lucas does nothing more than give him a look, he adds, “Irresistible?” Lucas is losing a battle to suppress his smile and the sight has Eliott feeling strangely giddy. “Hot,” he concludes with a smirk.

Lucas sighs, looking unmoved. “Presumptuous.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow with a cocky smile. “Not a presumption if it’s true.” He spins his phone in his hand, the light from it pirouetting in the trees around them.

“You know,” Lucas drawls, “you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“And you’re not as mean as you think you are,” Eliott retorts with a huffed laugh.

Lucas hums and looks away, but it does nothing to conceal his smile, small but soft and more importantly, present.

“I should probably be scared,” he says after a moment of silence between them.  

Eliott looks back to him in surprise. “What – why?”

Lucas shrugs, staring forward as they continue through down the path. “Being led into the woods by an ex-con sounds like the start of a horror movie.”

Eliott snickers. “Thought you believed the ex-porn star rumour…”

Lucas looks over to him with an eyebrow raised. “You tripped and nearly faceplanted, like, three times on the way here. Don’t think you’re coordinated enough for porn.”

There are so many parts of that statement Eliott would like to dissect. That his coordination is the only thing Lucas apparently thinks he’d be lacking as a porn star, paramount among them, but Eliott focuses on the part of Lucas’s statement that doesn’t have Eliott’s dick taking too enthusiastic an interest.

“I don’t think you have to be coordinated for porn…”

Lucas snorts. “Speaking from experience?”

Eliott hums. “ASSablanca. My title feature.” Lucas laughs.

“Sounds like some quality porn.”

“Discerning viewer, are you?” Eliott looks to him with a smirk.

“I dabble,” Lucas says with a haughty sniff, and Eliott will not picture it. Lucas laid back on his bed, opening a browser, his hand – Will not!  “Enough to know you’d probably slip on lube and break your dick. Get the whole production shut down.”

“A real tragedy,” Eliott comments, not at all hiding his delight at Lucas mentioning his dick in any respect. “Can you break your dick though?”

Lucas hums in the affirmative. “Arthur’s cousin did.”

“Seriously?” Eliott isn’t sure how the conversation veered so quickly down this strange path, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so immediately comfortable with someone. It feels like coming home. If home were a person.

“Yeah,” Lucas chuckles. “This girl was riding him, and I guess she went a little hard or… like, at the wrong angle or something. Said he’s never felt pain like that before. Had to go to the emergency room and everything.”

Eliott is torn between wincing in real sympathy and laughing until he can’t breathe. He ends up doing a combination of the two. “Jesus.” He wipes his eyes as he looks back to Lucas. “New fear unlocked.”

Lucas’s smile is wide. “I remember being scared the first time I rode a guy that my legs would get tired too fast. Never knew I had to worry about permanently maiming him with the power of my ass.” Lucas laughs again, unaware of the way his words have slammed a series of images into Eliott’s brain so explicit, and so mind-bendingly hot, they nearly bring Eliott to his knees. It wouldn’t be that out of place a reaction, he supposes. Getting on his knees for Lucas feels like a very welcome inevitability at this point.

“The power of your ass?” Eliott repeats with a chuckle, doing his best not to picture said ass spread for his mouth… for his di– “Should be the title or your porn tape.”

Lucas scoffs. “No porn rumours about me.”

Eliott considers. “Don’t think I’ve heard any rumours about you.”

“Really?” Lucas looks genuinely surprised before his expression clears with understanding. “Right. You’re new.”

“You’re serious?” Eliott traces the shape of Lucas’s features in the dim light, not entirely sure how to respond to the comment. “There are rumours about you?”

“People are assholes.” It’s as good as confirmation, though Lucas doesn’t look particularly bothered.

“What kind?” Eliot asks, genuinely curious. He doubts they could be nearly as colourful as what the student body had come up with for Eliott. “What do they say?”

“Nothing as cool as the one’s about you.”

Eliott laughs dryly. “It is hard to beat ex-convict or porn star. That one about the duck kinda sucks though.”

“The duck?” Lucas looks confused for only a split second, not long enough for Eliott to answer before his face registers understanding. “Oh shit! I forgot about that.” He laughs, a mix of amusement and incredulity. “They said you bit off its head? Who the fuck even comes up with that?”

“I don’t know why they said it.” Eliott’s voice has slipped into something woeful and filled with genuine upset. “I would never hurt an animal like that.”

Lucas’s steps slow and he stares at Eliott for a moment before speaking. “That’s what you focus on?” He exhales a loud breath through his nostrils. “That someone thinks you’re capable of animal abuse?”

Eliott feels pretty confident that it’s a fair thing to have a problem with. “Well… yeah…”

Lucas is doing that staring thing again, his expression unreadable. It doesn’t feel like a bad thing. It feels a little like he’s found something fascinating in Eliott and wants to take his time sorting it out. Eliott will give him all the time he needs. Lucas turns back to look down the dark path, tipping his chin in the direction they move. “So, are we going somewhere, or did you really bring me here to murder me?”

Eliott chuckles. “You jump to murder first?”

“I don’t trust easily,” Lucas says it with a blasé sort of air, as though it’s not a particularly significant statement. The words reverberate through Eliott’s body though, an echo too haunting to ignore.

He clears his throat, speaking despite the unease settling in his stomach. “We’re going somewhere.” The dark form of the bridge has come into view, steeped in shadow. It’s an intimidating sight at night, but paradoxically, the most comforting – for Eliott anyways. “There, actually.” Lucas’s steps slow until he’s stopped entirely, looking hesitant as he stares into the shadows. “Trust me?” Eliott takes a few steps forward on the path, spinning to look back at Lucas.

Lucas’s attention swings between Eliott and the underside of the bridge he’s been led towards. He doesn’t move and he doesn’t answer.  

Eliott steps towards him, reaching for Lucas’s arm and tugging him into motion.

“Murder isn’t part of the plan. I promise.”

“Sounds exactly like what a murderer would say.”

Eliott laughs and turns, bringing Lucas along as he runs and pulls them both into the shadows beneath the bridge. He slows, dropping Lucas’s arm and spins, smiling wildly as he sweeps the light of his phone across the cement supports.

“Isn’t it cool?”

Lucas turns with him, taking in the graffiti with his mouth parted. “Whoa.” He looks back to Eliott. “Not just your hangout spot then.”

Eliott shakes his head. “Kinda a popular spot for people to make out or –”

“Oh,” Lucas interrupts with a laugh. “So that’s your plan.” It honestly hadn’t been, but Eliott enjoys the teasing, and he wouldn’t say no to making out with Lucas again.

“Or cause some mayhem,” Eliott finishes. “If you insist though…” He advances on Lucas, and if allowed, he would have backed him right into the cement support behind him… maybe pressed him there and kissed him until his lips were puffy and raw, but alas, Lucas has no intentions of being so accommodating.

He presses a hand to Eliott’s chest, shoving him back with an exhaled laugh. “I don’t make out with boys on the first date.” That is very obviously a lie and Eliott might call him out on it if it weren’t for how their first make out session had ended. Instead, he focuses on an entirely different inaccuracy.

“This is our second date.”

“No,” Lucas disagrees, fingers brushing along the lines shaping the graffiti as he explores the space. “Alexia’s doesn’t count.” Eliott is about to be offended when Lucas’s next words strip him of any rebuttal. “I was a mess. I was pissed and… I acted like an asshole.”

“You didn’t,” Eliott quickly protests, wanting the regretful look on Lucas’s face to disappear. He doesn’t want Lucas to feel guilty for any part of their first date when the whole reason they’d gone to the party had been because Eliott – “You were fine and I –”

“Eliott,” Lucas cuts him off. A slight shake of his head says everything he needs to: Just let me apologize. Let me acknowledge I have regrets.

Eliott exhales, nodding just once in acceptance. “Are things ok? With Daphne, I mean?”

Lucas shrugs. “I think so.” He smiles just a little as he catches Eliott’s eyes. “Think she’s actually dating Bas.”

Eliott’s eyebrows jump in surprise. “Really?”

Lucas nods. “Yeah. She might even like him.”

“I thought she was into Charles.” A twinge of discomfort comes with saying the name. Discomfort and… something else. A niggling of fear. Charles wanted Daphne. Charles paid Eliott to take Lucas out because he’d been banking on Daphne wanting him. Eliott doesn’t know how invested – money puns aside – Charles had been in that assumption. Invested enough to be enraged that Daphne is dating Basile? Invested enough to blow Eliott’s burgeoning relationship with Lucas all to hell? Eliott isn’t even sure he could claim he doesn’t deserve it.

“Don’t think she ever really was,” Lucas comments, wandering a little further into the shadows. “She just gets wrapped up in what people think – cares too much about what people think.”

“You don’t?” Eliott asks with sincere curiosity, but Lucas seems to take it as an affront, swinging back to Eliott with a fierce look.

“No. I don’t.”

Eliott raises his hands in surrender, offering a placating smile. “It wasn’t an accusation.”

Lucas eyes him for another second before he blows out a loud breath and his shoulders drop from their tense position. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“Sore spot?”

Lucas shrugs, turning to press his back to one of the cement supports. “I used to be more like Daphne.”

Eliott has a hard time even imagining such a thing. Lucas comes across like he has such a strong sense of self, like it truly wouldn’t matter what anyone said about him because he knows better – because he knows who he is.

“Really?” His disbelief rings clear in his voice and Lucas nods like he understands where the skepticism is coming from.

“I was younger.”

“Ah yes,” Eliott teases. “As opposed to now.”

Lucas gives him a shrewd look. “Younger in every way. And I just wanted to fit in…”

Eliott hums. He’d never quite had a chance at doing that himself, but he understands the desire. “Yeah, I get it. So… what are we talking here? Drank a little too much? Sucked up to Charles?”

Lucas gives him a long, indiscernible look. “Something like that.” He looks away. “You come here a lot?” It’s an obvious deflection but Eliott won’t point it out.

“Yeah.” He moves to lean against the support parallel to where Lucas stands, turned to face him. “For years. It’s sort of my spot.”

“Your spot?”

Eliott nods. “Like a place I can go to be alone – that no one knows about. And it’s so quiet here. Peaceful.”

Lucas smiles a little. “I know about it now.”

Eliott acknowledges this with a small smile. “Feels different with you.” It’s only the truth.

Lucas looks momentarily stunned. He shakes himself out of it quickly, eyes flicking away as he gathers himself again. Eliott likes being able to affect him like that.

“Not worried I’ll crash your alone time?”

“Alone time,” Eliott repeats with a slanted smile. “Sounds fun.” Lucas rolls his eyes. The exact reaction Eliott was going for, of course. “I wouldn’t mind,” Eliott adds, “if it was you.” He’s never brought anyone to this spot. That, he doesn’t add. He supposes it could be assumed, even unspoken. If someone asked him to explain why Lucas is the exception to the rule, Eliott’s not sure he could. They barely know one another. But he’s never felt so certain about a person before – certain that they’re meant to be his person. His person in every way. It’s not even a particularly scary thought. It feels welcome. It feels like relief – like finding something Eliott’s life has been plagued searching for.

There’s a hesitancy in Lucas’s eyes that reflects clearly in the glow of the light Eliott’s phone provides, but there’s an openness too, like maybe he doesn’t trust Eliott fully but… he wants to. Eliott can accept that. There are reasons not to trust Eliott, after all. He’ll make it up to Lucas for those. He will.

“Don’t think I’d come here without you,” Lucas says finally. “Kinda spooky.”

Eliott laughs softly. “Knew you were scared.”

“I didn’t say scared,” Lucas disagrees with narrowed eyes. “It’s a dark, abandoned bridge in the middle of the woods. It’s spooky.” Spooky. Eliott wants to kiss him all over his adorable face. He pushes off the cement pillar and might have even given it a shot if it weren’t for the fact that Lucas has mirrored his movements, catching Eliott off guard.

Eliott hesitates. “Is spooky good or bad?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” Lucas smiles, advancing a few steps and Eliott finds himself taking a corresponding amount backwards. “It can be both I think.”

Eliott couldn’t say why he moves as though intimidated. Lucas doesn’t scare him. Being closer to Lucas definitely doesn’t scare him, but there’s something formidable about the look on Lucas’s face – something that has Eliott’s heart racing and his feet moving backwards. It’s because Lucas wants him too, Eliott realizes as he comes to a stop on the precipice between the cover of the bridge and the open space of the park behind. He doubts there is anything Lucas could ask for in that moment that Eliott wouldn’t give. He wonders if Lucas has any idea of his power – that all it would take is a flick of his eyebrow for Eliott to fall to his knees in front of him.

“Something scary can be good and bad?” Spooky, Eliott means to say, but Lucas doesn’t correct him.

“It usually is. In my experience.” He stops in front of Eliott, tipping his chin up just a little. Everything about his face says he wants to be kissed. The way he slowly blinks as he looks up, eyes begging challenge. The way his lips part just the tiniest bit. And the way he waits – waits for Eliott to catch up and give him what he wants – needs. That’s what it is. A need. Plain and simple to see. Eliott would happily spend a lifetime providing.

Eliott’s eyes drop to Lucas’s lips, and he just barely stops from groaning out loud when Lucas’s tongue darts out to wet them. Eliott’s leaning down without making a conscious decision to do so, drawn to Lucas’s lips in a way he’s never felt before, like a physical tug from somewhere deep inside him. But just as their lips brush, an entirely different force throws Eliott backwards – Lucas.

Eliott stumbles back, arms flailing until he regains his balance. There are several things he realizes, all in quick succession. One, Lucas pushed him. Two, Lucas is laughing – laughing joyfully, and it’s the single most beautiful thing Eliott has ever seen in his life. And three, it’s raining. Eliott isn’t sure how he didn’t notice when they’d been under the cover of the bridge but it’s impossible not to notice now. He’s soaked within only a few seconds, standing under the open skies with his mouth gaping as he watches Lucas laugh and thinks…

Better once than never.

To find this. To find him. To find something – someone Eliott never thought he would.

It’s a strange thought. Stranger yet because it doesn’t surprise Eliott at all. It feels… obvious. Like one look at Lucas and anyone would know Eliott would find himself only then – only in moment’s shared with this mesmerizing, frustrating boy. Awareness comes with a feeling of belonging Eliott has never experienced before.

Lucas is leaping forward before Eliott has even absorbed the shock of being soaked from head to toe. But it doesn’t stop Eliott from catching him, the compulsion to pull Lucas closer, stronger than the rain beating down around them. And they’re kissing. It’s deep and open-mouthed from the moment their lips touch, a reflection of the desire they’ve been keeping in check for hours now. The rain falls in a deluge from above as they laugh into one another’s mouths, hands grappling for purchase on one another’s bodies. Eliott can’t decide where to touch and his hands move restlessly over Lucas, from his jaw to his hair, to his back, to his ass. It’s not enough. Their clothes are restrictive, even more so wet, and Eliott needs to feel him, needs to feel his skin.

It's not Eliott who expresses his frustration though, it’s Lucas. Lucas who groans against Eliott’s mouth and pulls back, breaking their kiss, with sopping wet hair and rain drops clinging to his eye lashes.

“God, I hate wet jeans.”

Eliott laughs and pulls Lucas close, pressing a kiss to the side of his head when Lucas falls into him, dropping his forehead to Eliott’s chest as he giggles.

“Do you want…” Eliott trails off before finishing his sentence, wondering if the suggestion would be too forward, implying things he doesn’t mean to… pressuring Lucas in a way he’d never, not ever.

“Could we go to yours?”

Eliott’s jaw drops, and he wonders if the question really came from Lucas or if his own desires somehow manifested the words into existence.

“Yeah?”

Lucas laughs softly. Raindrops drip down to his lips. Eliott wants to lick each of them off but settles for catching them with his thumb, brushing it delicately against the swell.

“Was that an answer or a question?”

Eliott chuckles, running his hand back into the strands of Lucas’s hair where it snags in the wet tangles. “We can go to my place,” he answers. “I’m fucking freezing.” It’s not for effect but he shivers violently.

Lucas stretches his arms up and around Eliott’s neck to pull him closer. “Gotta get out of these wet clothes.” That sounded… suggestive. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah, I…”

“I’m not going to have sex with you.”

Is Eliott speaking his thoughts out loud? It feels like Lucas is plucking them from his brain. He laughs, and it’s not the first time he’s had the thought: Who even is this boy?

Eliott brushes thumbs along Lucas’s cheekbones as they squint at one another in the continued downpour. “Ok.”

Lucas tugs at the front of Eliott’s shirt, looking sweet and a little bashful. “I just… I want to be clear… and –”

“Lucas,” Eliott interrupts with another huff of laughter, “we don’t have to do anything – nothing you don’t want.” He smiles, soft and with such adoration for the boy standing in front of him, he’s sure it’s painted across his face in trails of raindrops. “I just want to be with you. We’ll go back to my place, and you can tell me off for the next two hours. Don’t even have to kiss me.”

Lucas snorts, his face split in a breathtaking smile. “I can do that and kiss you.”

“You’re very talented,” Eliott pets Lucas’s skin gently. “I’d be ok with that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re easy for me.”

Eliott tilts his head back as he laughs, letting the rain beat down on his face, and pulling Lucas closer when he feels the other boy dropping his face into Eliott’s neck, pressing a kiss there.

“Let’s go,” Eliott says as he looks back down, tipping Lucas’s head up until their eyes meet. “Get out of these wet clothes.”

* * * *

Notes:

A couple notes:

- Eliott is quoting Shakespeare in that final post. The quote is: "O love, be moderate. Allay thy ecstasy. In measure rein thy joy. Scant this excess. I feel too much thy blessing. Make it less, For fear I surfeit." He changes 'rein' to 'rain' because he's gross and poetic 😌. It's from Merchant of Venice. Here is your spark notes summary because I'm lazy:

Portia describes her true feelings of love for Bassanio to the audience. She reveals the excitement of new love and appears to be almost bubbling over with joy and happiness. She describes how her feelings of love overpower negative feelings like jealousy or fear. She even recognizes how overwhelming these feelings of love can seem. Despite not knowing each other very well, Portia’s expressions prove that love can come quickly and unexpectedly.

- The one moment from 10 Things I Hate About You I was most nervous about leaving out is Patrick singing (terribly) to get back on Kat's good side. I just really didn't see it for Eliott (not that he can't act a fool but it didn't feel right) and it is the sort of moment you need to experience visually/ auditorily to appreciate imo. Hope no one was too disappointed about that one!

Alright... see you next week at some point with the next update!

P.S. Was that post of Bastien a straight up thirst post on my part? Yes, it was. But it was a straight up thirst post on Lucas's part too so I regret nothing.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Just a one chapter update this week. Next week will be the same. I don't know who thought it would be a good idea for me to start uploading this fic when I'm in the middle of the most insane time at the Museum but... she's a dumbass (she is me). After next week though I'll be headed into vacay time and life will be a lot more enjoyable.

Ok - hope you enjoy!!!

Eliott’s heart seizes as Lucas steps back into his room. He coughs into a fist, pounding it against his chest to reassure himself that he isn’t, in fact, having a heart attack. It’s just… Lucas is in his clothes. Eliott’s clothes. It’s not anything that’s been a fantasy for Eliott before now. But Lucas is standing in the doorway to his bedroom wearing Eliott’s shirt over a pair of borrowed boxers looking sweet and rumpled and so fucking beautiful, and Eliott realizes, maybe it’s not the ‘wearing my clothes’ that’s the appeal, maybe it’s the Lucas part of it all.

Lucas pulls an arm across his chest, eyes flicking around Eliott’s room as he scratches at the edges of the plastic wrap covering his fresh tattoo.

“Is it –” Eliott clears his throat. “Is it bothering you?”

Lucas looks down to his tattoo as though he hadn’t noticed his own actions. “Not really. Kinda itchy.”

“We should clean and rewrap it,” Eliott says, standing up from the bed. He stops in front of Lucas, reaching for his arm and turning it until he can see the tattoo for himself. He traces a finger up the skin to the edge of the plastic wrap, noticing the way it makes the other boy shiver. “Rain probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“I don’t think it got wet,” Lucas whispers, watching Eliott’s finger brush against his skin.

“Still.” Eliott looks up to meet his eyes with a small smile. “Just to be safe. Gotta be careful with a fresh tattoo.” Lucas nods and Eliott takes his hand, leading him back into the hall and into the small kitchen. He drops his hand only so he can locate their plastic wrap. Idriss has a habit of leaving things out on the counters rather than putting them away where they belong. When Eliott had complained, Idriss had argued if that was all Eliott had to complain about when it came to him as a roommate, he should consider himself lucky. Eliott hadn’t been able to disagree.

“How many do you have?” Lucas asks.

Eliott finds the plastic wrap squished into the cutlery drawer and retrieves it as he turns back to Lucas. “Nine.”

Lucas’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?” He holds his arm up, watching as Eliott carefully peels off the wrap currently protecting his tattoo. “That’s a lot.”

Eliott doesn’t think it particularly is – especially compared to someone like Bastien – but he hums in agreement, gently cleaning Lucas’s tattoo and patting it dry before applying some of the tattoo cream he keeps well stocked. Satisfied with his treatment, he goes about rewrapping it. “It’s pretty addictive. Just wait.”

“Mmm.” Lucas brings fingers to Eliott’s arm and runs them across the lines of the various tattoos. It makes it hard to concentrate on Eliott’s task, but he does his best, carefully securing the fresh wrap around Lucas’s arm. “I like yours.”

Eliott smiles, glancing down at the tattoos under Lucas’s fingers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lucas looks up with a quirked smile and playful eyes. “They’re hot.” Eliott kisses him. It’s a wonder he’d lasted so long.

They stumble back to Eliott’s room, mouths parting only long enough for him to direct them without running into walls, and fall back into the bed together. Their lips immediately seek one another out and reconnect, searching hands finding one another’s bodies and pushing and pulling with reckless, impatient need. Eliott rolls on top of Lucas when prompted, the sound the boy beneath him makes as Eliott’s weight settles on top of him forever burning itself into Eliott’s memory. But there’s no pressure for more.  They both want it. Eliott can feel Lucas is hard, pressing up beneath him, and knows Lucas can feel the same, Eliott’s briefs doing little to mask his own desire, but neither make any moves to rush things beyond kissing.

Eliott loses track of how long they kiss, drunk on one another’s lips as they are. When their faces separate and he settles back to his pillow on his side, hands cupping Lucas’s face, Eliott imagines his lips are just as puffy and swollen as those of the boy laying in his arms. He traces the line of Lucas’s lips with the tip of one finger, watching as they curl into a smile.

“Too romantic for porn.”

Eliott’s attention flicks back up to Lucas’s eyes, a question in his own. “What?”

Lucas’s smile widens, his voice soft. “Not sure I believe the ex-porn star rumour anymore.” He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Eliott’s nose. “Too sweet for it.”

Eliott huffs a laugh. “Not an ex-con, not an ex-porn star… what will you believe then?”

Lucas offers a partial shrug, his voice lilting up as he teases, “There are others.”

Eliott frowns. “I didn’t hurt any ducks.”

Lucas laughs, pulling Eliott back into a kiss, soft and open mouthed, pushing away just as quickly. “Think someone said you shot a man in Reno.”

Eliott hums the melody of the song Lucas is referencing. “Just to watch him die.” Lucas smiles, pleased. “I think that might count as plagiarism.”

Lucas exhales an amused sound. “Getting kicked out of school for a mental breakdown was pretty lame though,” He comments, not noticing the way Eliott’s breath has caught in his throat as his stomach bottoms out. “I mean… who hasn’t done that?” He laughs softly but his smile drops as he takes stock of Eliott’s face.

“I didn’t get kicked out,” Eliott says, voice thready and insecure when he brings himself to speak. “I left.”

Lucas shakes his head, looking apologetic and unsure. “I… I didn’t know…”

Eliott shrugs, doing his best to breathe through the fear pumping adrenaline into his bloodstream. He hadn’t meant to tell Lucas like this. He hadn’t considered how he’d tell the other boy at all – if he would. But as unplanned as the moment might be, it doesn’t feel ill timed. There’s a gentle, quiet quality to the space they’ve made themselves, wrapped up in one another in Eliott’s bed, that makes the raw vulnerability seem less terrifying than it might otherwise – that makes it feel safe. “Not as catchy as the others. Guess the truth isn’t outrageous enough for people. Bit too depressing.”

Lucas’s hand runs up and down Eliott’s arm, squeezing his bicep in comfort. “Shit. I’m really sorry. I just thought it was…” Like the rest, Eliott supposes he wants to say. Another ridiculous rumour that couldn’t possibly be true.

“It wasn’t a breakdown,” Eliott clarifies, compelled to make sure Lucas understands – that he sees Eliott for everything he truly is. Good and bad. “I just… struggle with my mental health,” It’s more vague than he wants to be, but it’s all he can manage to admit in a moment that feels so fragile, with a boy Eliott so badly wants to hold onto. “I was in a bad spot and…” He shrugs, at a loss for words.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lucas whispers, his hand moving to brush against the side of Eliott’s neck. “It’s ok. People are assholes to gossip about that.”

Eliott exhales, more relieved than he could ever possibly express that Lucas has taken the news with such ease and understanding. “Yeah. Kinda welcomed the other rumours,” he admits. “Didn’t want people talking about me at all, but if they were going to…”

Lucas nods, his eyes dropping to where his fingers pet gently at Eliott’s skin. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Transferring was a new start,” Eliott explains. “I just wanted to disappear.”

Lucas looks back up with a soft laugh. “Oh yeah, that was gonna happen.”

Eliott quirks an eyebrow in question, surprised by the humour suddenly informing Lucas’s face. “What?”

Lucas raises his eyebrows as if to say, ‘You should know’, only Eliott really doesn’t. “You don’t exactly have a face that disappears.”

Clued into his meaning, Eliott’s mouth pulls up in a slanted smile. “Is that right?”

The fingers on Eliott’s neck pinch the skin as Lucas huffs. “Shut up. I’m just saying… people are gonna talk about you.”

Eliott wraps an arm around Lucas’s lower back, pulling him closer. “Think they’ll talk about you too then? Us?” He ignores the niggle of worry that comes with the thought.

Lucas scrunches his nose, displeased. “Probably.”

Eliott laughs. “Don’t look so excited.”

Lucas shrugs, nonplussed. “I don’t like people making up rumours about me.”

Eliott can’t argue with that. “Hmm,” he considers. “We should come up with our own.”

“Our own rumour?”

Eliott nods. “Maybe a few. Spread ‘em before anyone else gets a chance.”

“Yeah?” Lucas smiles, looking like he’s more than willing to play along. “Like what?”

“Standard stuff. I have an enormous dick, you know…”

Lucas laughs. “Not outrageous enough,” he says after another moment, moving his thigh against Eliott with a smug little smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Sex does sell though.”

Eliott swallows heavily and does his best not to let the throb of his dick distract him from the topic at hand, which, in his defense, involves talk of dicks. “Mmm,” Eliott thinks. “Deformities?”

“Boring,” Lucas dismisses.

“Stories about our wild sex life?” Eliott wiggles an eyebrow.

“Might want to establish that first.”

He has a point.

“I say we work with the originals. The OG rumours.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow in what Eliott will take to be quiet approval. “Such as…?”

“We met years earlier,” Eliott says, trying not to give himself away by smiling too widely. “On set.”

Lucas snorts, immediately following Eliott’s train of thought. “I get to be an ex-porn star too?”

“It’s why we left the business,” Eliott says as answer.  

“Do tell…”

Eliott clears his throat as though he’s about to tell an epic tale. “Was just supposed to be one shoot with you – Twinks in Twilight.” He’s quite proud of himself for coming up with that on the spot.

Lucas seems to be caught between hilarity and horror. “Please tell me this isn’t vampire-themed.”

“What?” Eliott asks, confused before he understands. “No,” he laughs. “Not the movie. Twilight under the stars. Romantic like.”

“Sure. It’s porn.” Lucas’s tone drips with sarcasm but Eliott will generously ignore that.

“But we got a bit carried away…”

Lucas snorts. “Surrounded by cameras, outdoors, with the risk of getting caught bare-assed by anyone walking by… makes sense.”

“Hush,” Eliott chastises. “Let me tell the story.” He pulls Lucas closer, dropping his voice as he speaks quietly, their faces barely separated now. “It’s quiet and intimate and we get too into it.”

“Sounds likely.” He’s not being sarcastic now.

“Any time they yell cut – want us to change angles or positions or whatever – we ignore them.”

“Always thought it was stupid how they change positions five times for one fuck.” Lucas’s breath is coming a little heavier. Despite the disinterested quality of the words he speaks, he’s affected.

“And we can’t stop…” Eliott too finds himself short of breath, unable to stop from imagining it with their bodies pressed tightly together as they are. “Once I’m inside you, neither one of us can stop. It doesn’t matter that it’s a shoot anymore. I just want to make you feel good. And you…”

“What?” Lucas is wide-eyed and his breath stutters around the word, lips parted as he waits for Eliott to continue.

“You’re so into it… so beautiful… they decide just to let us be because, I mean… it’s hot.”

“Yeah.” Lucas’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“It’s easy to forget the cameras are there,” Eliott continues, his own imagination providing all-too-graphic images to illustrate the story. “I don’t though.”

“No?”

Eliott shakes his head just slightly, licking his lips before continuing. “I like it. Like claiming you.”

One of Lucas’s eyebrows rises as though unimpressed but when he speaks, he sounds anything but offended. “Claiming me?”

“Mmm,” Eliott hums. “Like that everyone watching knows you’re mine. I’m making you feel good. Making you hard. Making you come.” His breath catches in his throat and there is a moment of silence where they both stare at one another, tension so thick Eliott is sure it’s visible between them, a dense fog of heat and need. “After that… there’s no going back.”

“No?” Lucas’s voice wobbles just a little.

Eliott shakes his head, gaze caught between Lucas’s eyes and mouth. “I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and I don’t want to be with anyone else – even when it’s just like that – not real.”

“Not letting you get your dick up inside someone else after you’ve had me.”

The explicit quality of Lucas’s words startles a laugh out of Eliott. But it’s easy to agree. “I couldn’t.”

“So, we quit. Together.” Not quite a question. He’s joined in the storytelling.

“Yeah. We quit.”

Lucas tips his head forward, brushing the tips of their noses together as he asks, “Why do we lose touch then? Why years?”

“Not years. Months, maybe.” Eliott can’t imagine meeting Lucas – having Lucas like this – and letting him go.

Lucas smiles a little. “Ok, months. Why?”

Eliott considers this for a moment, going for the easiest trope. “You had an ex. Caused drama.”

Lucas’s eyebrows pull together. “Why me?”

“I’m friends with my exes.”

Lucas’s frown deepens. “You think I’m not?”

“Are you?” Eliott quirks an eyebrow in question, exhaling a laugh when Lucas can’t offer up an argument to the contrary.

“Ok, I had an ex,” Lucas gives in with huff. “A dickhead. So, he broke us up?”

Eliott purses his mouth as he thinks. “We weren’t quite a couple yet. Maybe he just threw a wrench into things… took us a bit to figure it out.”

“But you couldn’t stay away.” Lucas smiles, smug and sure of his assessment of the imaginary situation.

“No. I couldn’t.”

His smile grows. “Because you fell for me.” It’s nothing Eliott wants to dispute.

“Just took that one night.”

“Power of my ass.”

Eliott laughs softly, slipping a hand down to tap fingers against said ass as he grins. “Never doubted it.”

“It’s a pretty good story.” Lucas smiles, and Eliott doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Lucas shifts to press back into his hand.  

“Glad you approve.”

“Has a lot of sex.”

“We’re ex-porn stars,” Eliott says, feeling it speaks for itself.

“Should probably act pretty hot and heavy in public then… to make it believable.” There’s a twinkle in Lucas’s eye – a spark of trouble – just the kind of mischief Eliott can’t resist.

“You think?”

Lucas’s chin dips in a slight nod, his eyes staying fixed on Eliott. He blinks slowly. “Make sure someone catches you giving me a blowjob in the storage closet. That kind of thing.”

Eliott chokes on air, doing his best to ignore the visual enthusiastically supplied by his brain. “That’s very specific.”

“Seems worthy of ex-porn stars.” Well, that’s true enough. And Eliott started this conversation. Really, he brought this on himself. He has no regrets.

“It does.” Eliott brushes a hand back into Lucas’s hair. “Just in public then?”

Lucas nods. “Private is just for us.”

“No blowjobs in storage closets for us then?” Eliott asks with a quirked smile and just a hint of challenge.

Lucas’s eyes trace over his face for a moment before he answers, “Maybe… not yet.”

“What about kissing?” Talking with Lucas is great, but it’s been far too long since Eliott kissed him.

“What about kissing?” Lucas repeats.

“Just for us?” Eliott dips his head until their lips brush. The accompanying frisson of electricity that runs up his spine is all too welcome.

“Definitely just for us,” Lucas answers before tipping his chin up and meeting Eliott’s kiss.  

* * * *

Eliott wakes to a dark room and Lucas snug in his arms, blinking back at him with sleep hazy eyes.

“I think your roommate just got home.”

Eliott listens as, sure enough, the sound of Idriss clumsily making his way through their flat filters into his room. Eliott’s not sure of the time but it must be the early hours of the morning.

“He’s always so loud.”

Lucas exhales a soft laugh. He looks sleepy and sweet. Eliott would really like to kiss him again but also… sleep. Sleep is calling him back. He settles for rubbing a hand up and down Lucas’s side.

“I think he’s dating Manon,” Lucas whispers.

Eliott blinks slowly, in his current sleep-deprived state, his brain taking a little longer to interpret the words. “You think?” He whispers back with a quirk of his eyebrow and slight smile.

Lucas’s lower lips juts out. “You’re supposed to confirm or deny.”

Eliott chuckles softly. “Idri hasn’t said anything official,” he admits. “When he really likes a girl, he doesn’t talk about it. But…” He considers the picture Idriss and Manon had made sitting nestled together on the couch, “maybe…”  

Lucas exhales, fingertips tapping lightly at Eliott’s chest where his hands rest. “Can’t blame him for being quiet about it, I guess. Manon’s the same.”

“And you?”

Lucas’s eyes dart from Eliott’s chest to his face, his eyebrows rising. “Me?”

“When you like someone,” Eliott clarifies, speaking softly. He means to sound teasing, but it comes out achingly sincere. “Do you talk about it?”

Lucas’s shoulder shifts under the blanket. A shrug, maybe. “With Yann, I guess. I don’t –”

“Trust easily,” Eliott finishes for him. “I remember.”

Lucas’s lips twitch into a smile. Acknowledgement. “I also haven’t…” He trails off, eyes dropping back down to his hands on Eliott’s chest.

“What?” Eliott prompts softly, moving a hand to cup Lucas’s face. He rubs the pad of his thumb against Lucas’s temple.

Lucas takes a couple measured breaths before he answers, eyes still fixed on his own hands. “I haven’t liked anyone for –” His voice wobbles, and he swallows heavily before continuing. “A while. Not seriously.”

“Really?” Eliott asks, mildly surprised. He’s probably projecting, but he can’t imagine going long without at least a crush. Idriss says Eliott could fall in love with a brick wall cast in the right light. It’s true Eliott thinks of himself as a lover of all things, but Idriss hasn’t ever understood the intricacies of how Eliott loves. Eliott’s devotion is all-consuming… and in that way, limited. When he gives himself, it’s with total abandon, fully and completely. It’s nothing he can do as often as Idriss would claim, not without burning out in a flame of passion until there is nothing left but charred remains. It's not that Eliott hasn’t wanted to do so – hasn’t thought about doing so. The idea of going out in such a way has always seemed just romantic enough to be appealing. But a dormant sense of self-preservation has kept the impulse in check. That and perhaps fear – fear of loving someone so much, of them not loving him enough in return, of their love not being able to withstand the inferno, to prevent the flames from consuming them both.  

Lucas breathes deeply, blinking slowly as he nods. “I don’t like a lot of people.”

Eliott exhales, smiling softly as he presses his thumb into the corner of Lucas’s mouth as it curls upward.

“But you like me?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out quite like the question it does, tentative and maybe a little uncertain, more insecure than he can ever remember being.

Lucas’s hand moves up to Eliott’s face, immediately covering his eyes. Eliott laughs as Lucas tries to force his eyelids closed. He grabs Lucas’s hand until he’s able to drag it down to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm and holding it there.

“A little,” Lucas says, eyes fixed where his fingers press to Eliott’s lips.

“A little what?” Eliott asks – mumbles - the words muffled beneath Lucas’s fingertips, but understandable.

Lucas exhales, and he meets Eliott’s eyes. “I like you a little.” It sounds like a declaration of love coming from Lucas, sullen and pouty as he is. Eliott can’t help but break into a wide smile. Lucas pulls his hand away with a huff. “Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t think I want to now.” He means it. Not only because he’s enjoying getting under Lucas’s skin, but also because being awake means looking at that face – that sweet, grumpy, way-too-beautiful face looking right back.

“Fine.” Lucas settles into his pillow, a stubborn tilt to his mouth. “I’m going to.” He shuts his eyes, not looking the least bit like he’s about to do as he claims and sleep.

Eliott smiles as he watches him. “Staying then?” He pulls his hand back to his own pillow, squeezing the corner to satisfy the urge to do the same to Lucas’s face.

Lucas’s eyes open and narrow. “No. Was just about to order an uber. Figured getting kidnapped by some sketch-ass driver in the middle of the night was a better idea than sleeping.”

“Alright,” Eliott laughs softly. “No need for sarcasm.”

“Every need for sarcasm,” Lucas disagrees. He blinks slowly, eyes soft. Eliott would stare at his face all night if it weren’t for the way sleep darkens the corners of his vision.

“Will you go to school with me tomorrow?” Eliott asks, voice slow and weighed down by drowsiness.

Lucas stares at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I guess.”

Eliott exhales a sound of amusement. “You don’t sound sure.”

Lucas shifts under the blankets. Like a spasm of feeling he can’t contain. “We’ll be together anyway.”

“Ah,” Eliott breathes, far too charmed by the way Lucas is trying so ardently to project disinterest. “So, it’s convenient.”

“Yes,” Lucas answers immediately, a spark of humour in his eyes, as though aware he’s the butt of the joke, but he’s been in on it from the start.

“And that’s all…?” Eliott’s voice lilts at the end of his sentence. A question.

“Go to sleep,” Lucas says again.

“People will talk.” Of that, Eliott is sure.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Lucas asks, voice raspy and sleep infused.

Eliott’s brain lags, a number of frantic, anxiety-driven thoughts presenting themselves before he realizes Lucas’s meaning, and he lets his muscles relax, smiling a little.

“Right. Ex-porn stars.” After a moment he adds, “Not sure they’d be the type to walk into school together holding hands though.”

Lucas’s mouth twitches. “Planning on holding my hand?”

Eliott reaches for that very hand, pulling it back to his chest and keeping it cupped in his own there.

“Yes.”

Lucas’s eyes are fixed on their joined hands. “Maybe we’re romantic.”

Eliott’s heart stutters before resuming a quiet beat. “Romantic porn stars?”

“Ex,” Lucas reminds him, eyes rising to meet Eliott’s. “That’s why, remember?” Eliott isn’t sure exactly what Lucas is referring to – Eliott’s imagining of their history in the service of the rumour, or something else. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

“Yes.”

If either of them says anything after that, Eliott has no memory of it. He slips into sleep warm and contented, with Lucas’s hand in his own.

* * * *

 

* * * *

Eliott looks to Lucas for what must be the tenth time in the last five minutes.

Lucas sighs. “What?”

Eliott breaks into a grin, swinging their clasped hands between them as they approach their faculty buildings. “We’re holding hands.”

Even with his face firmly facing forward, Eliott can still see Lucas roll his eyes. “That surprises you?”

“Yes.” Eliott squeezes Lucas’s hand within his own. “You’re a surprising person.”

Lucas’s eyes flick to him briefly. “So are you.” It’s unexpectedly sincere. So sincere, in fact, that Eliott is left bereft of what to say in reply. Yann approaches as they walk into the building before Eliott has come up with a thing to say in response.

“Lucas,” Yann greets, his smile infused with humour.

Lucas immediately makes a move to unclasp their hands, but Eliott holds firm, receiving a withering, but reluctantly amused look from Lucas in return.

“Early?” Lucas asks Yann.

Yann nods briefly at Eliott in greeting, before he looks back to his friend. “Yeah. Office hours. You too?” Eliott’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Lucas had claimed he had an early class that lined up perfectly with Eliott’s schedule. Eliott’s body heats with pleasure as he realizes… Lucas lied so they could come to school together. Holding hands. Romantic, indeed.

“Shut up,” Lucas huffs, like he’s heard Eliott’s unspoken thoughts. “I’ve gotta work on that report,” Lucas says, his justification directed at Yann but being spoken for Eliott’s benefit. Eliott would revel in the opportunity to tease, but there’s a strong hand latching to his bicep, fingers digging into muscle and dragging him away before Eliott is even aware of what’s happening.

He releases Lucas’s hand, more out of shock and a need for both of his own than a desire to be separated from the other boy, and only has a chance at a split-second glance back to take in Lucas’s wide eyes filled with surprise before he’s turning to Charles who has maintained his grip on Eliott’s arm. Eliott wrenches himself free.

“What the fuck?!” He stops their forward progress immediately, and Charles swings back around on him, his face filled with fury.

“What?” He slices a hand through the air in Lucas’s direction. “You wanna do this in front of him?” Eliott’s stomach drops, and he risks another look back towards Lucas. He and Yann still have their eyes on Eliott and Charles, speaking quietly as they take in what has to be the most unexpected and suspicious of scenes. Fuck.

This time it’s Eliott grabbing Charles’ arm and dragging him to a far side of the hall and an alcove by the window where they won’t be as immediately in view, safely out of eavesdropping range.

“Are you kidding me?” Eliott hisses, releasing Charles and forcefully shoving him back a step. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What am I doing?” Charles questions with a cruel laugh. “You walk in here holding hands with him? Is this a joke?” Eliott has no idea why this would have caused a confrontation, but he’s entirely certain he doesn’t need any better an understanding when it comes to Charles’ actions.

“I’m leaving.”

Before Eliott can turn, Charles is moving to block his path, stepping into his space in what is likely supposed to be a threatening manner but only makes Eliott want to smirk and say something to thoroughly undermine the pithy show of intimidation. “The deal was I get Daphne,” Charles spits. “I paid you to –”

“Would you keep it down?!” Eliott hisses, daring a look over his shoulder, relieved to see Lucas and Yann have apparently moved on, no longer in sight. A twinge of regret at having their morning overshadowed by Charles’ arrival is present, but Eliott would rather deal with that disappointment than have Lucas overhear this… mess. This entire fucking mess.

“Oh,” Charles laughs, venom dripping from the sound. “Can’t have your boyfriend find out you’re only with him because you’re being paid, hunh?” It’s truly incredible that the very short time Eliott has known Charles has made him seriously reconsider his belief that he’s not a violent person.

“You’re not paying me,” Eliott spits back, furious and… scared. He has to admit he’s a little scared – scared when he thinks about the power Charles holds over him – the ever-present threat. “I told you we’re done.”

Charles sighs, looking a bit like he too is exhausted by this conversation. “Look, Daphne says she can’t go to the mixer because Lucas isn’t going.” That’s news to Eliott. Not that he’d know – not that they’ve had time to discuss any such future events. But Daphne’s immediate refusal of Charles makes Eliott wonder if perhaps Lucas has simply become a convenient excuse. “Get him to go.”

Eliott exhales a laugh, rife with disbelief. “Yeah, I’m not doing that for you.”

“He’s your boyfriend now, yeah?” Charles’ entire demeanor exudes disdain. It’s eclipsed by the loathing radiating from Eliott.  

“He’s not my boyfriend.” It’s a simple fact. Eliott would be more than happy to change that – might even feel like he’s well on his way to changing that, but none of those are details Eliott would like Charles to be privy to.  

“Whatever,” Charles dismisses. “Get him to go and there’s cash in it for you. You can’t play like you don’t need it.”

Eliott doesn’t listen to anything else, turning and marching away from Charles, body tense and formerly good mood nowhere to be seen.

“Think about it!” Charles calls after him.

Eliott exhales heavily, staring forward. He’s fucked. He’s fucked if Charles won’t let this go and it truly doesn’t seem like the prick has any intention of doing so. But Lucas can’t know. He can’t. He’d never speak to Eliott again and honestly, Eliott wouldn’t blame him. But Eliott didn’t predict this. He didn’t predict Lucas. He doesn’t want to let him go. It’s selfish maybe – maybe most definitely. But he’s sure anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of knowing Lucas like Eliott is coming to, would understand. He needs to fix this – or at least, prevent this. The inevitable. It can’t be. Eliott can’t let it be. Charles might be volatile, but his motives are transparent. If Eliott can just… do as he wants, without the strings. If he and Lucas are at the party, surely Charles will see it as some sort of capitulation on Eliott’s part. It’s the last thing Eliott wants to provide him, but if it means preventing the fallout… the loss… losing Lucas when Eliott barely even has him…

It's worth it. Isn’t it?

He won’t accept the money – of course not. That’s done. But the rest… he can do that…

“Hey.”

Eliott jumps, so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed Lucas waiting for him, tucked next to the fountain. He’s too surprised to conceal the anxiety leftover from his conversation with Charles, or to adequately recoup his former good mood and Lucas notices.

“He-”

“What’s wrong?” Lucas steps forward. He directs a quick look down the hall towards where Charles is thankfully walking the other direction. “What did he want?”

“Nothing,” Eliott answers quickly. Too quickly. Lucas’s eyes move back to him, reservation in their depths Eliott hasn’t seen since he first began approaching Lucas. He doesn’t welcome the recurrence. “He just…” Eliott scrambles for an excuse, feeling a lot like shit as he runs through various lies in his head. “He thinks I’m his best route… to your sister or whatever.” It’s a good lie. It’s not untrue. It’s not the whole truth but… it comes with enough truth that Eliott can say it with sufficient conviction to be convincing.

Lucas’s eyebrows pull together, but suspicion has cleared from his eyes. “Why would he think that?” It’s a good question, thankfully asked with a tone that makes it clear Lucas truly has no idea of the answer.

Eliott shrugs, eager to move on from the topic. “Saw us together, I guess.” Lucas’s eyes stray back to the empty hallway. “I told him to fuck off. It’s… whatever.” He reaches to brush a hand down Lucas’s arm, recapturing his attention. “Don’t worry about it.” Lucas moves his arm away before Eliott can relink their fingers. It might appear as rejection but strangely, it doesn’t feel like it. Lucas looks… distracted, like his mind is somewhere else entirely.

“I should…” He offers a small smile, eyes a little more present. “I should get to class.” He doesn’t have class and seems to have forgotten Eliott knows that. He takes a step away, and it’s only the gentle, warm look in his eyes that keeps Eliott from assuming the worst. “I’ll see you later?”

“Ok,” Eliott nods, hesitant to let Lucas go. “Lunch?” He asks just as Lucas turns to leave.

Lucas looks back over his shoulder with a close-mouthed smile and a nod. “Sure. I’ll text you.” With that, he turns and strides away down the hall. Eliott wonders where he’s going. It’s not class and he doubts it’s the office hours Yann mentioned that Lucas has on his mind. But he walks with purpose.

It suddenly occurs to Eliott he should have kissed Lucas before he left. Apart from their entrance holding hands, Eliott can’t be sure how eager Lucas is when it comes to public displays of affection but just the same, every moment spent not kissing Lucas feels like a mistake. Eliott hates the way an expiration dates sits at the back of his mind. He’ll do whatever it takes to prevent it – erase it – but it exists. For now, it exists.

He should’ve kissed him.

* * * *

 

Notes:

Last week a thirst pic of Bastien. This week a thirst pic of Manon. I felt the need to provide. And is it kinda inappropriate of Idriss to post what is a very private pic publicly like that? Mayhaps. But we're going with him having Manon's permission (boy is not about to screw this up), and her liking the idea of him making it clear to others who he's busy with 😌. Eliott isn't the only one in this story eager to stake a claim.

I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next week! ❤️️

Chapter 5

Notes:

Heyyyyy friends... I'm still alive. I think. Just gotta actually make it to holidays.

Bit of a longer chapter coming at you this time (just under 9k) but that is how it had to be! I hope you approve 😌😘

Eliott sighs, reaching to smear his hand directly down the front of his canvas. Someone gasps from behind him.

“Why’d you do that?!”

Eliott swings around, tense posture drooping the moment he sees Basile standing in the studio door. Eliott looks back to his painting.

“Because it’s shit.”

“It was cool!” Bas disagrees, walking to stand next to Eliott as they look at the ruined canvas together. “If I could paint like that, I’d have Daphne for sure.”

Eliott breathes a laugh. “Girls don’t fall at your feet just because you can paint.” Or not paint, in Eliott’s case.

“They do when you look like you and paint,” Bas points out, and, well, Eliott can’t disagree. The ‘artist mystique’ has definitely gotten him laid in the past. He hasn’t leaned on it since transferring schools though. He doubts Lucas would have been impressed if Eliott had tried. Would probably call him a pretentious artistic snob. The thought makes him smile.

“What are you doing here?” He asks when his attention refocuses on the boy at his side.

Bas looks back to him, and it’s only the appearance of nerves written plainly across his face that Eliott realizes he hadn’t been nervous before. That’s new. It’s not unwelcome either. For the most part Eliott appreciates the way the student body at large has been intimidated enough to leave him alone. But Basile is Lucas’s friend. And it’s nice to think Lucas’s friends see Eliott differently now – are beginning to, anyways. As someone familiar… someone who might be sticking around. A friend, maybe.

“Oh… uh…” Bas hesitates, looking a little more like he had the very first time he’d approached Eliott. “So… you know that pre-exam party…?”

Eliott sighs. He could laugh but it doesn’t feel particularly funny. In the span of only a few hours this damned party has come up twice, both in the same context, both a keen reminder of an agreement Eliott would really like to forget.

“What is this about, Bas?” Eliott already knows.

“Well…” Bas shuffles on his feet and Eliott would swear he sees a trickle of sweat run down Bas’s face. “I was hoping to take Daphne and –”

“You want me to ask Lucas,” Eliott cuts him off, tired of the way Bas is dancing around the subject – tired of this day entirely… even when it hard started out so promising.

“He never goes to parties!” Bas’s voice is an immediate whine. “But he’d have fun with you and –”

“Listen,” Eliott interrupts once more, turning to face Bas properly with arms crossed against his chest. He’s getting paint on his shirt sleeve but it’s necessary for the imposing posturing. “If Lucas and I go, I’m not doing it because of some deal I made with you or – or anyone else.” If he says it out loud, can it be true? Eliott wishes that was the case. “We’ll go because we want to. If Daphne wants to go with you, she will too.”

“But –”

“And for the record,” Eliott continues, “it’s a shit thing you’re doing. Going behind Lucas’s back like this.” Maybe Eliott is projecting. Just maybe. But he’s also right. He might not have the moral high ground, but he’s right. “You’re supposed to be his friend.”

Bas’s mouth has dropped open. “I – I am. We’re doing it because –”

“You want to date his sister,” Eliott finishes for him. “Not exactly altruistic.”

“No!” Bas squawks, before quickly correcting himself. “Or yes, but… we love Lucas! He’s been unhappy for so long – and lonely! We – we just want him to be happy!”

“And paying someone to date him? That’s the way?” Eliott doesn’t think it matters in current context that Basile hadn’t been the one to pay him. Bas had said himself he would have but Charles was the one with the money.

“No, but – but we knew he’d be into you!” Bas defends. “And, like, he needed someone who wasn’t scared of him and – and –” He speaks frantically and with the air of someone who really hadn’t thought through what sort of friend this made him.

“Does his friend know about it?” Eliott questions. “Yann?” He’d thought not, but he’s never confirmed his initial assumption. And the idea that Yann might know – even the most general of details – makes Eliott’s stomach roil with immediate anxiety.

Bas’s eyes widen, an answer before he’s even spoken. “You can’t tell him!” It’s Eliott’s turn to speak with mild panic – panic he does his best to stifle, confident at least that Bas is blind to it.

“No – no, it’s fine.” Eliott inhales, willing his voice to steady. “Just leave it. It’s done. It can be like it never happened.” Please. Please, let it be like it never happened. Please, let it be like Eliott met Lucas under different circumstances. Better circumstances. He wonders if he would have been as determined to get through Lucas’s walls if they had. Somehow, he thinks so. One look into Lucas’s eyes and he’s certain he would have been a goner no matter the circumstances. “You should ask Daphne,” he suggests, a tactic of distraction. “If she wants to go with you, you’ll find a way.” Eliott doesn’t allow himself to think about what Charles’ reaction might be if that ends up being the case.

“But –”

“I’ll ask Lucas,” Eliott continues, knowing what Bas was about to say. “Because I want to,” he adds pointedly. “We forget about the rest. Deal?”

Bas nods, looking relieved and eager to leave now that he’s gotten his way. “Yeah, that – that would be great.” He takes a step backwards, knocking into the stool Eliott had set his paints on and sending them scattering to the floor. Eliott’s reflexes only just stop the entire stool from toppling. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Eliott allows, sounding harried but just as keen for Bas to leave as the other boy seems to be. “You can go.” It’s an abrupt dismissal, but the whole conversation – the whole morning for that matter – has left him on edge.

“Ok!” Basile chirps, breaking out into a happy smile, looking far more relieved than Eliott feels. “I’m going to go ask Daphne!”

Eliott nods, watching Bas dash out the door of the studio, before turning back to his canvas with an aggrieved sigh.

The effect of the colour smeared by his hand has unintentionally added an abstract element to the composition he’d been labouring over and Eliott cocks his head as he considers the result. It looks like a mess but there’s something intentional about it too – something he likes.

Maybe he can work with this.

* * * *  

* * * *

Eliott breaks into a jog the moment he spots Lucas sprawled on the grass, his hands propped behind him, chatting with Yann who sits beside him. A longer lunch break than normal meant they’d agreed to meet at a nearby park. All in all, an excellent plan and opportunity to escape the educational confines they find themselves in day after day… that was until Eliott had gotten caught up in his painting and lost track of time, meaning he was now late – late to a lunch kinda-date with the boy he hasn’t even nailed down in any sort of committed relationship.

Excellent impression to make, Eliott. Excellent.

“Sorry!” Eliott says, out of breath as he comes to a stop, sinking down to the grass next to Lucas. He nods quickly at Yann before turning his attention to Lucas. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Was thinking I was getting stood up,” Lucas responds, thankfully with a smile, looking unbothered. He tips his head back a little as he looks over at Eliott, the sun lighting up the contours of his face. His sunglasses are pushed back into his hair, and his eyes look bright blue in the natural light, creasing at the corners with happiness. He looks far more relaxed than when Eliott had seem him last and so very –

“What?” Lucas asks, giving Eliott a funny look. “Have something on my face?”

Eliott shakes his head, smiling a little as his eyes glide across Lucas’s features. “No.”

Lucas huffs, looking exasperated but fond. “You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful.” It’s only the truth, plainly stated, but it clearly surprises Lucas. Eliott’s smile widens as he watches Lucas’s cheeks flush a pretty pink.

“Those lines work for you?” Lucas blusters, but he’s pleased – pleased and flattered. Eliott may not know Lucas all that well yet – or for long – but something about the way he speaks through expression and gesture feels incredibly familiar, like they’ve already lived lifetimes together and are only refamiliarizing themselves with a language they both know well. It’s a romantic thought and Eliott finds he quite likes the idea.

“Not a line.” Eliott’s been partial to the occasional line in the past he must admit, but there’s no need now. Certainly, no need when Lucas is sitting in the sun looking like that – like a fallen angel. Fallen perhaps because no one who looks that sinfully good could ever remain untouched in heaven. “And yes.”

Lucas holds eye contact with Eliott, a bold, demanding quality to the way he stares back. He wants to be kissed. Eliott is sure of it. But it’s not like he’s begging, it’s like he’s daring Eliott to do it. That too is familiar. Eliott’s eyes drop to Lucas’s lips when suddenly Yann is clearing his throat loudly next to them. Lucas’s attention turns to him immediately. Eliott takes another moment to memorize the contours of Lucas’s lips before he too turns to Lucas’s friend.

Yann is smirking as his eyes flick between them, one eyebrow raised. Eliott smiles, unapologetic, but Lucas goes on immediate offense.

“Why are you staring at us? Didn’t you say you wanted to finish notes for the discussion question?”

Yann laughs, undaunted by the fire Lucas spits in his direction. “Yeah. So did you.” He directs a quick to Eliott. “At least you did before –” He cuts off when Lucas lifts a book set between them, throwing it directly at Yann’s face. Yann laughs as he knocks it to the grass before it makes contact. “Hey, no need for violence.”

“Are you both in all the same program?” Eliott asks, intentionally allowing Lucas a reprieve from his friend’s teasing. He rests with one arm propped on the grass, leaning subtly towards the boy at his side.

“For now,” Yann answers with a chuckle. “This kid convinced me,” he juts his chin towards Lucas. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

Lucas snorts as Eliott laughs. “Please. You love it.”

“I hate it,” Yann corrects. “But you’ll be the reason I pass so…” He shrugs, “you’re forgiven.”

“So generous.”

Eliott smiles as he watches the friends banter. “It’ll be over soon anyways, yeah?” He comforts. “Nearly there. At least for this year.”

“Thank fuck,” Yann agrees with a laugh. “Once exams are done, it’s on. Gonna party like never before.” Lucas makes a sound of amusement, which reminds Eliott…

“You going to pre-exam mixer?” He directs the question at Yann, who nods in turn.

“Yeah,” Yann answers. “Stupid idea but I think everyone’s going. No one turns down a chance to party at Alexia’s.”

Eliott turns to Lucas in surprise. “You are?”

“What?” Lucas looks strangely surprised to have been addressed, like he’d been so busy observing he’d forgotten he had a role in the conversation.

“The party,” Eliott repeats with a chuckle. “Distracted staring?”

Lucas rolls his eyes, as adorable and prickly as ever. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I believe you’re doing the flattering,” Eliott points out. While he’s always been partial to teasing as one of a plethora of flirting tactics, he doesn’t think he’s ever found it as enjoyable as he does with Lucas. Maybe that’s because Lucas gives as good as he gets.

“Maybe I was staring because I’ve never seen one before.”

He’s left Eliott in his dust with this comment and he knows it. Eliott takes the bait.

“Never seen what before?”

“A troll in daylight.” Lucas grins when Eliott laughs. “And no,” he adds. “To answer your question.” It takes Eliott another moment to remember what that question had been.

“You’re not going?” A pang of worry – anxiety, maybe – finds its way into Eliott’s chest. “Everyone’s going.” Yann had said as much. And if Lucas’s best friend going isn’t enough to convince him to attend… Eliott doesn’t imagine he stands much of a chance.  

Lucas shrugs, unconcerned. “I’m not everyone.”

“But…” Eliott isn’t sure how to explain his investment in Lucas going to the party when not even he can be sure whether it’s rooted in a genuine desire to be with Lucas, or… something else. Something menacing and Charles-shaped. Something – someone who could annihilate the delicate, growing connection between Eliott and Lucas with just a few words – words Eliott couldn’t even deny. Because they would be the truth.

He quirks his mouth up in a partial smile. A cover. “But I’m going…”

Lucas raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So?”

“So… I’m me.” Eliott does his best to channel his usual charm but everything about the moment feels off.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Anybody ever told you, you’re a cocky fucker?”

Eliott grins, glad for the relief that comes with the teasing. “I tell myself that everyday.” 

He leans forward to press a quick kiss to Lucas’s lips, exhaling a breath of happiness at the way Lucas tilts his chin up and into it. “So, come with me…” It’s not quite a question. It’s most definitely not a demand either. Eliott couldn’t quite say what sort of tone he’s landed on, but it lives somewhere in the land of desperation. Desperation born from a lie. It’s an unfamiliar and uncomfortable place to be.  

Lucas’s face pulls, nose scrunching, confused or annoyed – Eliott isn’t quite sure. “No.” It’s an irritatingly simple answer. A confident refusal. He doesn’t sound like it will be possible to change his mind, but Eliott can’t quell the impulse.

“C’mon,” he cajoles, mouth curling up at one corner in a smile that doesn’t impress Lucas at all. “It’s just a party. Come with me. What’s the worst that could happen? You have fun?” It’s acerbic in a way Eliott had no intention of being – almost patronizing. Most unfortunately, that isn’t lost on Lucas.

“Why are you pushing this?” He demands, more confrontational than Eliott expected – though perhaps he should have. “Why do you care?” His eyes suddenly narrow with suspicion. “What’s in it for you?”

The questions, biting and in quick succession, are only appropriate. Eliott is pushing this too hard. But it’s because they’re warranted that Eliott responds as though he’s been backed into a corner, too terrified over everything Lucas doesn’t know – can’t know – to reconsider his ill-conceived position.

He scoffs. Riddled with anxiety, he doesn’t think better of his tone. “So now I need a motive to want to be with you?” He stutters through the words, a dead giveaway.

The suspicion on Lucas’s face transforms into something else – something unfamiliar, an emotion Eliott can’t quite pinpoint. He’s looking at Eliott as though this is only what he expected, as though Eliott has met some sort of invisible expectation – nothing he should be proud of.

“You tell me.” There’s a cold challenge to the way Lucas speaks. His tone makes it clear he doesn’t expect nor want a response.

Despite initiating the entire conversation, Eliott feels inexplicably unprepared and agitated. It has the unfortunate causal effect of making him even more defensive.

“Christ, Lucas. Paranoia like that, it’s a wonder you keep the boys away.” It’s a shitty thing to say. You don’t need to tell him, ok? Eliott knows.

Lucas’s reaction is swift, if more measured than Eliott would have expected. His jaw clenches, his chest rising with a deep breath, and then he stands and leaves without another word. He doesn’t look back. And Eliott is left with Yann. Yann, who after a loud exhale, looks from Lucas’s departing form to Eliott with an eyebrow raised.

“That was interesting.”

“Fuck,” Eliott says with a loud exhale of his own, pressing a hand to his face with fingers mashed to his eyelids. “Was I really that much of an asshole?” He drops his hand, looking to Yann despondent. The question doesn’t require an answer, which Yann clearly realizes.

“It was a choice,” he says in lieu.

Eliott looks in the direction Lucas had disappeared. “Are you going to go after him?”

Yann shakes his head. “When he’s like this? Nah. He’ll want to be alone.”

“He’s like this a lot?” Eliott asks, curiosity fighting for space alongside regret.

Yann shrugs, understandably reluctant to give Eliott any information on his best friend which Lucas hasn’t offered up himself. Even in the midst of his own inner turmoil, Eliott is thankful Lucas has a friend like Yann on his side.

“Gave him a reason to be,” Yann points out.

Eliott drops his eyes, shamed as he nods. “I… I don’t know why I did that.” It’s a lie, and he’s fairly certain Yann will guess as much. But he doubts Yann will suss out the actual motive behind Eliott’s behaviour. There’s silence and Eliott ventures a look up after a moment to see Yann’s attention focused on him, eyebrows pulled together with consideration.

“He likes you,” Yann finally says, and while it’s nothing Eliott doesn’t know, it feels like brand new information. It feels important. And flattering. Ridiculously, he might even be blushing.

“I like him too.” That is the truth.

Yann nods. This isn’t news to him. “Just give him time.” His attention drops to his books which he goes about collecting. He looks back to Eliott as he stands. “And maybe figure out whatever that was, yeah?” He waits for Eliott to acknowledge him with a nod before he leaves. And then Eliott is alone.

The problem isn’t that Eliott doesn’t know what that was, the problem is that he has no idea what the fuck to do about it.

* * * *

* * * *

Idriss sighs. It’s the sigh of a man worn down by the weight of the world, or in this case, the weight of Eliott’s world.

“Bro, you can’t tell me you didn’t expect this…”

Eliott frowns as he paces the living room looking to Idriss who stands leaning against the wall. “You say that like I do this all the time. I haven’t even dated anyone since –”

“Lucille,” Idriss finishes for him. “I know.” Eliott’s on-and-off relationship with his ex had ended with a whimper rather than a bang, the ever-present problems between them becoming impossible to ignore when Eliott’s mental health had plummeted to new depths of despair. Eliott hadn’t spent a moment regretting the breakup, but he hadn’t been all that eager to put himself out there again either. “Not really dating him though, are you?” Idriss continues, yanking Eliott’s thoughts back to the present.

“What?” Eliott’s eyebrows furrow, responding more to Idriss’s tone than the question itself.

Idriss raises an eyebrow. “Lucas,” he clarifies, though it’s unnecessary. Eliott doesn’t think there’s a second he’s stopped thinking about him since the moment Lucas stormed away. “Charles paid you to take the kid out –”

“That’s not-” Eliott quickly interrupts, speaking with a rush of illogical outrage before just as quickly deflating. “I mean…” His wipes a hand over his face, exhaling with frustration. “I know, but…” He hangs his head, looking back up only when he feels Idriss’s hand land on his shoulder, comforting and warm.

“So, you like him,” Idriss says, a statement of fact. It’s his way of acknowledging the painful situation Eliott’s created for himself. Eliott doesn’t think the comment requires agreement, but he nods. Idriss sighs again. It’s filled with pity. Eliott isn’t offended. He can’t be. Not when it’s all too deserved. “Tell him then.”

“That I like him?”

“The truth,” Idriss corrects. “The whole thing. Tell him.”

Eliott makes a frustrated sound. “I can’t. He’ll never talk to me again.”

Idriss shrugs. “Don’t tell him then.” He looks way too relaxed for the way Eliott feels.

Eliott mouth pulls down exaggeratedly at the corners. “Tell him or don’t tell him. Thanks. That’s really helpful.” He turns and sinks heavily to the couch, crossing his arms against his chest.

Idriss snorts. “Not here to solve shit for you.”

Eliott rolls his eyes, irritated by how true that is. “What are you here for then?”

“Dunno.” Idriss flops onto the couch next to Eliott with a sigh. “Not good at this relationship stuff. Here to listen, I guess. Tell you you’re dumb.”

Eliott breathes a slight laugh. “Yeah? Seem to be doing ok with Manon.”

At the mention of Lucas’s friend, Idriss’s face stretches into an instantaneous smile. It’s sweet enough to be disarming and Eliott mirrors the expression despite himself.

“Think that’s more because of her than me.” He shrugs. “Maybe it’ll be the same with Lucas.”

Eliott’s drops his hands to his lap, wringing them anxiously together. “I don’t think so. It sounded like –” He exhales. “I sort of got the impression that, like –” Idriss makes a sound like he’s filled in the missing parts of Eliott’s sentence, and in fact, he has.

“He doesn’t date. Right. Manon said. I forgot.”

Eliott looks to his friend in surprise. “She did?”

Idriss nods. “Wanted to know your deal, I think. Make sure you weren’t gonna hurt him.”

Eliott swallows, guilt collecting in his throat like bile. “What’d you say?”

“Said you don’t date either,” Idriss responds, just as relaxed as he’s been the entire conversation.

Eliott supposes that’s a fair answer. He hasn’t gone without sex since breaking up with Lucille, but that hadn’t required proper dating. He knows Lucas hasn’t gone without either – the visceral memory of Lucas talking about riding a guy for the first time always at the back of Eliott’s mind – but that wouldn’t have demanded serious dating either.

“Yeah.”

“You want to though, yeah?” Idriss prompts, though the answer is information he’s already been privy to. “Real deal? Long term?” That on the other hand, is not information Eliott’s shared with Idriss. He supposes it might be obvious enough, but it’s nothing Eliott confirmed out loud. Not yet. That he wants the real thing – the long term – with Lucas.

He nods, clearing his throat before he speaks. “I think –” That’s not right. There’s no uncertainty where Lucas is concerned. Eliott blows out a breath before continuing, staring at nothing as his eyes blur. “I haven’t ever…” He hesitates, wondering if it’s too much to admit so soon. But if there’s anyone who will understand Eliott, it’s Idriss. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” He looks hesitantly back to his friend.

Both of Idriss’s eyebrows rise slowly. “You’ve been out with him… what? Once? Twice?” It’s true, and yet it doesn’t feel nearly accurate. One date with Lucas. Two if Eliott counts the first party but he’s not sure he can do that. And yet, the summary doesn’t at all capture how it has felt – as much as it’s felt. But he knows how ridiculous it must sound.

“It’s stupid. I know.”

“I didn’t say that.” Idriss’s voice softens. “Intense, maybe.”

Eliott exhales. That assessment would be wholly accurate. “Yeah.”

“He feel that way too?”

Eliott considers the question. “I’m not sure.” He hesitates before admitting, “I think he might.”

“Damn.” Idriss blows out a loud breath. “Don’t think you have a choice then.”

Eliott looks to him in question. “In what?”

“Telling the truth,” Idriss finishes with a look that very clearly communicates, ‘You made your bed. Sleep in it.’ Eliott gives him a dubious look in return. “I’m just saying, bro. You really feel that way… you want him, like… for real. You can’t start that on a lie.”

“It did start on a lie.”

“Nah,” Idriss dismisses with a wave of his hand. It’s strangely reassuring. “Doesn’t count. You didn’t have it figured out then. You do now.”

“Why do you sound so confident?”

“What can I say?” Idriss smirks, settling into the couch with his arms spread against the back. “I believe in love.”

Eliott snorts. “That have anything to do with a pretty doe-eyed friend of Lucas’s?”

“Maybe,” Idriss admits with a grin and shrug. “So, what are you gonna do? Can’t keep acting like a dick to the kid for no reason without him figuring something’s up.”

“Yeah,” Eliott sighs. “I need to tell him?” The question doesn’t require an answer and Idriss doesn’t offer one. “I don’t want to lose him. I don’t even have him but… I really don’t want to lose him.” The possibility sends a wave of such panic rushing through Eliott’s body, he can barely breathe through it. He doesn’t want to consider it, but he also can’t imagine a scenario where an admission of truth would lead to acceptance from Lucas.

“Not sure that’s up to you at this point.” Idriss is right. It pains Eliott to be so certain of that fact.

“How do I tell him?”

Idriss makes a face. “Dunno. All tapped out of advice.”

Eliott sighs, aggrieved but unable to blame Idriss for his predicament.

“What if…” He expels a loud breath, speaking the thought plaguing him. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“What’s there to understand?” Idriss asks but Eliott hears the unspoken part of the question. What’s there to understand – that you did it for money? How do you understand that? How is he supposed to?

“That I like him,” Eliott says instead. “Really like him.”

Idriss’s mouth twists. Eliott knows he doesn’t have the answers to these questions anymore than Eliott does. They make quite the pair. Quite the useless pair.  

A knock at their door saves Idriss from having to form an answer. He cocks an eyebrow at Eliott.

“You got someone coming over?”

Eliott gives him a dry look. “Who?” It’s a succinct way of saying, ‘I’ve spent the last four months going out of my way NOT to know anyone, who would possibly be seeking me out?’ without going to the trouble of speaking the words. Eliott knows Idriss will understand.

Idriss sighs, pushing up from the couch. “If it’s that guy from below again, I’m telling him to fuck off this time.”

Eliott scoffs. Idriss likes to think he’s a hard-ass, but when push comes to shove – or irate neighbours come knocking – he always does his mother proud, turning into the most respectful of young gentlemen.

Eliott stretches into the space vacated by Idriss, sighing as he pulls out his phone and considers what to do with it. There’s only one thing he’s certain of: He won’t find any sleep unless he comes up with a way to repair the mess he made of his last interaction with Lucas. It’s excruciating to think he’d spent the last night wrapped around Lucas, only to now be sitting on his couch alone, contemplating how to get back in the other boy’s good graces if only to allow himself a night of sleeping alone. All of this because he let his own anxieties get the better of him – no, that’s not entirely correct – all this because he let Charles speak, rather than going with his initial impulse and punching him upon first sight.

Idriss appears, an odd look on his face.

“What?” Eliott questions, anything else he might have asked lost in a surprised exhalation of breath as Lucas appears from behind Idriss, a shy, almost… sheepish? look on his face.

“So…” Idriss clears his throat, looking between them as he rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “I was thinking I’d go chill with Manon tonight…” It’s a perfect opening for any number of jokes or opportunities to tease him. Neither Lucas nor Eliott say a thing, continuing to stare at one another silently. “Right.” He makes a noise, something like a snort or a laugh before turning and moving back into the hall. Sounds follow, Idriss collecting what he needs before leaving.

Eliott is jolted into action as the door clicks shut behind his friend. He rises in one abrupt movement from the couch, hand hovering in front of him as though to reach for Lucas before thinking better of it and dropping it back to his side. He swallows heavily, scrambling for something to say.

In the end, they speak at the same time.

“Did you want –”

“I’m sorry.”

The strangest part is that the apology hasn’t come from Eliott’s lips. He stares at Lucas in confusion.

“What?” He questions. He feels quite confident Lucas has nothing to apologize for. Eliott on the other hand… “Why would you be sor-”

For the second time that evening he’s surprised by Lucas. His words are interrupted by Lucas striding forward and then just as swiftly and surely, he’s in Eliott’s arms, connecting their lips. He doesn’t allow an opportunity for shock to impede the press of their bodies, one hand tight in Eliott’s hair, the other wrapped strongly around his back. Despite the insistence of his kiss, there is nothing preventing Eliott from pulling back, which he does, if only to inhale a gasping breath, too taken by surprise to have supplied his lungs with the oxygen needed to meet Lucas’s demand. He doesn’t move far, tipping his face back only enough to meet the other boy’s eyes, all too aware of the way Lucas’s hand tightens in his hair, a gentle reproach.

Eliott moves fingers to brush against the side of Lucas’s face. “Lucas, what’s going on?” There are a lot of things to clarify, a lot of things to be said, but this question alone is all Eliott manages, eyes already drifting back down to Lucas’s lips, plump and spit slick.

“I don’t –” Lucas breathes, words catching in his throat as he blinks slowly and looks up at Eliott. “I don’t want to talk.”

Despite this and the clear promise of more kisses, Eliott finds himself speaking once more. “I thought you wanted to go slow.” Lucas hadn’t ever said as much, but drunken car makeout aside, it had seemed clearly implied. Just as clearly implied as the fact that Lucas is looking for more than just kisses at present – nails biting into Eliott’s back, fingers of his other hand woven tightly in Eliott’s hair.

Lucas is shaking his head. “No.” He swallows, eyes shutting for a moment before they refix somewhere on Eliott’s throat. “No,” he repeats, quiet but sure. “I never did. I just… don’t do this.”

Eliott scrapes a hand back into Lucas’s hair, watching the way it makes Lucas’s eyelids droop with pleasure just for a moment. “Have sex?” Someone needs to say it. If that is where this is heading – and Eliott feels pretty damn confident that’s Lucas’s plan – someone needs to say it.

Lucas makes a sound, breathed through his nose, like a laugh, one eyebrow climbing his forehead as he gives Eliott a wry look. Eliott supposes it’s earned and releases a soft laugh in acknowledgement as Lucas speaks.

“I don’t do it like this,” Lucas explains, though the statement requires further clarification. “When it’s serious,” he continues, utterly unaware of the way Eliott’s heart has just leapt into his throat at that one word: Serious.

Eliott wants it. While not a revelation, the thought is astounding all the same. He’s spent the last four months doing his damnedest to not make ties, not to meet anyone new, not to be noticed at all, and all it took was this – this one boy – for Eliott’s world to reorder itself, for his self-imposed rules to become irrelevant.

Eliott wants Lucas. He wants him to keep.

“And now?” Eliott asks, voice quiet but desire transparent.  

“And now…” Lucas’s eyes fix on Eliott’s lips for an extended beat before they drag slowly back up to his eyes. “Now I don’t want to talk.” He makes good on his words, reconnecting their lips before Eliott can delay his purpose any longer. Not that Eliott intended to. Going without Lucas’s lips for any length of time, not something Eliott sees himself ever excelling at. But while the kiss isn’t unexpected, the demanding pull and push of Lucas’s hands, as confident and sure as they are unpracticed, takes Eliott a little more by surprise.

He stumbles backwards as Lucas turns him, blindly shoving Eliott in the direction of the bedrooms, only allowing their lips to part when it’s in service of pressing Eliott up against the wall with an echoing thud. The demand of it robs Eliott of breath. He pants against Lucas’s lips, grappling for purchase on the other boy’s body, one hand gripping tightly in the soft threads of Lucas’s hair, the other wound around his shoulders. It has the beneficial effect of keeping Lucas close while also serving to help Eliott steady himself. Eliott can’t say he’s ever been pushed around quite like this – not by excruciatingly pretty boys anyways – and there’s something delightfully new about it, something that has Eliott wanting to please in a way that begs direction. And Eliott never begs.

Eliott dips his head, intent on recapturing Lucas’s lips, swollen and red and far too tempting to leave unabused for long, when Lucas is moving out of reach, spinning them once more, until – much to Eliott’s delight – it’s Lucas pressed against the wall, clutching Eliott to him, lips parted and eyes wide. He looks as though he’s just as surprised by the turn of events, like his actions are a shock to him too. The flicker of insecurity, lasting only as long as it takes Lucas to blink, is enough to have Eliott rushing to reassure him, with lips curling into something resembling a smirk, cheeky comment at the ready, but with an intent of reassurance all the same.

He's barely begun to speak, leaning forward to lightly brush their lips together, when the touch of Lucas’s hand silences him.

“You are –” Voice ragged with the onslaught of desire, he cuts off with a sharp inhale as Lucas’s thumb finds the corner of his lips, eyes focused there too. He dips it into Eliott’s mouth only slightly, only enough to tug gently before his hand is moving down to Eliott’s shoulder and his eyes rising. And then… pressure, exerted with no hesitancy and with deliberate, confident direction, pushing Eliott… down.

Eliott doesn’t resist per se, but he doesn’t immediately oblige either, too hypnotized by the hazy look in Lucas’s eyes. He’s unresponsive enough that uncertainty reappears in Lucas’s eyes. It’s that more than anything that makes Lucas’s intent – his intent for Eliott – clear. The understanding comes with an immediate physical response from Eliott, a full body shudder. He tips his forehead to Lucas’s with an unsteady breath and wastes no more time, dropping to his knees.

It's rare Eliott allows any sort of direction – any sort of demand when it comes to sex. In his experience it requires intimacy and a level of trust he hasn’t experienced since Lucille. And his relationship with her had extended far past that point, to a place where they’d gone too long with neither of them being particularly interested in their physical relationship. Eliott’s point being… this is new and not something he would have ever seen himself so willingly – so enthusiastically – doing just one month ago. But fuck he wants it. He wants it because Lucas wants it.

If Lucas is surprised by Eliott’s submission to his demand, he doesn’t show it. There’s an urgency to both of their movements now, as though the understanding that has passed between them – the permission – leaves no more room for waiting.

Lucas’s hands are fumbling at the clasp of his pants, his breathing heavy and laboured. He manages to get his zipper down before Eliott knocks his hands away, replacing them with his own. Hooking fingers into the band of Lucas’s briefs, he uses his other hand to smooth up over the soft, subtle ridges of Lucas’s abs, bunching the material of his shirt as he does so. He looks up.

“Take it off.” His voice has dropped a number of octaves, thick with his own desire, and the command in it resonates, even as he remains on his knees. He sees Lucas swallow heavily, staring down with pupils so dilated his eyes appear nearly black, before he does as told, tugging his shirt up and over his head in one violent movement, careless enough that Eliott is surprised the material doesn’t rip. And then there’s skin… so much skin. Lucas’s body is… well cared for… to say the least. He’s compact and muscular, but there’s a softness about him too… a softness that makes Eliott feel just the opposite. He feels… feral. Wild with need. It makes him want to grip, to grab, to tug…

Eliott leans forward, pressing his lips to the sparse trail of hair leading from Lucas’s belly button down and hears the other boy make a soft sound, quiet enough to have been unintentional. Eliott smiles, baring his teeth to Lucas’s belly and uses the opportunity to nip lightly at the skin.

Lucas’s hand is immediately back in Eliott’s hair, grip harsh, stripped of its former gentleness.

“C’mon.” His impatience is as obvious as it is electrifying.

Eliott leans back just enough to look up through his eyelashes, wincing only slightly when Lucas’s grip tightens. The sight Lucas makes is… enough to fuel Eliott’s fantasies for years to come, he’s sure of that. Lucas is biting his lip as he watches Eliott, chest heaving and eyes darkened with lust.

Eliott smirks, long enough for Lucas’s eyes to catch on the curl of his mouth, before he redirects his focus to more productive tasks and yanks Lucas’s briefs and pants down in one swift, forceful movement. Lucas inhales sharply as his erection springs free, bobbing obscenely in front of Eliott’s face. His hold on Eliott’s hair doesn’t lesson, but he offers no immediate direction, frozen in the moment he’s initiated, as though he’s surprised it’s gone exactly as he insisted. Eliott is sure that will change, but for now he’s happy to lead. Reveling in the opportunity before him, in the soft, pliable way Lucas has slumped against the wall, Eliott reaches to fist his erection with one hand, his other immediately smoothing from Lucas’s hip back. He digs his fingertips into the plump globe of Lucas’s ass as he leans forward, lips brushing against the heated, stretched skin at the head of Lucas’s erection. A bead of precum blurts from the tip and he darts out his tongue to catch it, flicking his eyes back up to Lucas as he does so.

Lucas’s attention is locked on him, a moment of stasis broken as he blinks, his hand tightening in Eliott’s hair. His other moves to cover Eliott’s hand around the shaft of his erection, guiding it to Eliott’s waiting mouth. Eliott shudders as together, they feed him Lucas’s cock.

Eliott’s been with men – men beyond Bastien that is, but he can’t say he’s been with any who have been so unapologetic about what it is they want from him. Granted, that’s likely at least in part because Eliott wouldn’t have allowed it, preferring not to hand over any control when the engagement was to be so brief. Everything feels different now.

Saliva has already collected in Eliott’s mouth by the time he’s stretching his lips around the girth of Lucas’s cock, his jaw protesting as he wastes no time and sinks down until his nose presses to the sparse hair at the base and his gag reflex signals a warning. 

Lucas groans loudly, the hand that had been tightly gripping Eliott’s hair, now petting through the strands, an instinctive effort to praise perhaps. Eliott supresses his gag reflex, a talent he’s never been more thankful for, and hums, listening with satisfaction as the sensation makes Lucas curse above him.

Eliott pulls back, replacing his mouth with his hand. He focuses on sucking the head, pressing his tongue into the tip as his hand mimics the movements of his mouth, pumping spit-slick skin stretched hot and hard, in a quick, unabating rhythm.

Lucas’s breathing is laboured, his hand coiled in the strands of Eliott’s hair but long since having given up any attempts at guidance. But he’s being far too quiet for Eliott’s liking.

Eliott smooths the hand he’s splayed on Lucas’s ass down until he’s able to fondle his balls with nimble fingers. Lucas makes a sound, a needy sort of whine at the back of his throat. It’s a start. Eliott presses one finger back, behind his balls, massaging it against the perineum.

“Oh god,” Lucas groans, loudly. Eliott pulls off just to smile, speeding the pace of his hand as he looks up to Lucas.

“Good?”

Lucas nods jerkily, looking down with wide eyes, too caught in the feeling to temper the way he responds. It’s a brutally honest reflection of pleasure. It hits Eliott a little like an orgasm might, Lucas’s pleasure so intrinsically bonded with his own. He has to inhale a steadying breath before he returns his attention to Lucas’s cock, bringing it back into the wet heat of his mouth. He presses his tongue to the sensitive underside of the head, forming a tight suction with his mouth as he pumps his hand around the length in an ever-quickening pace. He runs the two fingers massaging the perinium further back, dragging along the delicate, soft skin until he finds the tight ring of muscle he’s searching for. Eliott brushes fingers against Lucas’s hole, barely pressing the tip of his index finger against the heat of the opening, when suddenly Lucas is making a sharp noise above him, a choked off cry of pleasure, and his salty release is hitting the surface of Eliott’s tongue. Eliott almost pulls off in surprise, the firm press of Lucas’s hand at the back of his head the only thing preventing the involuntary, unwanted reaction.

He regroups quickly, pumping Lucas through it as he swallows the offering. He pulls off only when Lucas makes a broken little sound, depleted and over sensitive.

Eliott pants, heart thundering in his chest. He presses a kiss to Lucas’s hip before he rises from his knees. Lucas has sagged against the wall, hands dropped to his sides as he breathes through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Eliott moves one hand to brush through his hair, bringing his other to cup Lucas’s face. And Lucas smiles. It’s unreserved. Shy and sweet, but with unconcealed happiness. His teeth shine in the dim light of the hall, his face reflecting total, and utter contentment, and Eliott is staggered by it.

“God,” he breathes, falling forward to connect their mouths. It’s all he can do to express everything he can’t find words for. He licks into Lucas’s mouth, desperate to share a taste of the pleasure Eliott had given him and feels Lucas’s fingers at his waistband. Lucas doesn’t unclasp his pants as Eliott expects, instead he’s tugging as he turns their bodies, leading them backwards down the hall even as he shuffles awkwardly, his clothing an obstruction at his ankles. It takes only a few steps before he’s breaking their kiss to look at Eliott imploringly. With all blood in his body currently occupying a place far further south than his brain, Eliott doesn’t catch the question in Lucas’s eyes until it’s verbally spoken.

“Can we go to your room?” Lucas’s voice carries just the slightest hint of teasing. He bends, pulling his briefs back up, but kicks his pants away to sit in a pile in the hallway along with his discarded t-shirt.

“Oh.” It takes another second for Eliott’s brain to catch up. He grins the moment it does, reaching for Lucas’s hand as he turns them in the direction of his room. He shuts the door behind them as they enter and walks to flick on the lamp next to his bed, ridding himself of his sweat damp t-shirt as he does. He winces as he moves, cock so swollen with blood that the confines of his jeans have become nearly unbearable, and he reaches to unclasp them, sliding down the zipper while he’s at it. The need for relief overrides all rational thought that might have otherwise made him a bit more aware of the implication behind his actions. It’s only when he turns to see Lucas’s focus stuck on where Eliott’s pants are spread that he realizes his potential misstep. The look on Lucas’s face is no longer one of lust – not anticipation either. Eliott couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but it has him immediately rushing to placate the boy frozen at the other end of his bed.

“I didn’t mean – I’m fine – we don’t have to –” He cuts off when Lucas shakes his head, eyes still fixed where Eliott strains obviously beneath the cotton of his briefs, plain to see even through the narrow split of his jeans.

Lucas moves towards him, stopping with hands pressed to Eliott’s chest, his eyes still cast down. Eliott can’t bear it any longer, reaching to press a finger beneath Lucas’s chin and tipping his head up. His eyes are wide. He looks… scared, maybe.

“Lucas…”

“Just –” Lucas cuts him off once more. He turns, pushing until the back of Eliott’s legs hit the bed and he’s forced to sit. “Just let me.” He follows him onto the bed, pushing and prodding until Eliott understands the request and moves to sit with his back to the headboard, allowing Lucas to crawl onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

Eliott inhales deeply, hands hovering at Lucas’s sides before he allows himself to place them on his hips, staring up at the boy in his lap in wonder.

“I’m ok,” Eliott feels compelled to say. “You don’t have to-” But Lucas smiles. Eliott’s mouth snaps shut at the sight.

“Would you relax?” There’s a playful glint in his eyes now. “You act like you don’t want me to touch your dick.”

Eliott huffs an amused sound. “No, I –” He sucks in a breath as Lucas’s fingers press to his lower stomach, skimming down until they slip beneath the waistband of his briefs.

“You what?” Lucas asks, his smile a little slanted. He’s enjoying teasing Eliott, enjoying the power he’s now recognized he has over him. “Lift up.”

Eliott does as told, though it’s a challenge with Lucas’s weight on his legs. He lifts enough that Lucas can drag his pants and briefs down to the top of his thighs, freeing his erection which juts up lewdly between them, so painfully red and stiff with unmet need, even Eliott is a little surprised by his own restraint.

“Still don’t want me to touch?” Lucas asks, biting his lower lip as he looks back up through his lashes. He has to know the effect he’ll have – looking as he does – such a beautiful medley of contradictions.

“I want –” Eliott has to clear his throat to get the words out as Lucas’s fingers dance at the top of his thighs, skimming across the skin until they drag lightly through coarse hair. “I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

“Whatever I want, hunh?” He smiles, smug with it. Eliott is torn between wanting to kiss the look right off his face and wanting to press even further back into the headboard to afford himself a better view. Fingers trail up the side of Eliott’s cock, and then Lucas is wrapping a fist around the base, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes drop back down, and Eliott can’t help the groan he releases, hands tightening at Lucas’s hips. “I think I wanna get you off.”

“Fuck,” Eliott moans, fighting to keep his eyes open as Lucas moves his hand in a slow, dry drag up.

“Spit,” Lucas says, releasing Eliott’s erection to hold his hand in front of his mouth instead.

The momentary reprieve does nothing to abate Eliott’s desperation and he reaches to take Lucas’s hand in his own, pressing the palm to his mouth. He keeps his eyes fixed on Lucas as he licks, thoroughly coating the skin with saliva before he sucks each finger into his mouth. By the time he’s done, Lucas’s cheeks have flushed with colour and he’s panting. Eliott smirks, cupping Lucas’s hand in front of his mouth and finishing by spitting in his palm.

“Good enough?”

There’s a blur of motion and Lucas’s mouth is pressed to his once again, his hand back on Eliott’s cock. He doesn’t build any sort of a rhythm. His grip is tight, his motions immediately quick and relentless. There’s an unpracticed, crude quality to the way he jerks Eliott off, but it’s good – it’s so fucking good. Eliott gasps against his mouth, so overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of sensation, he can barely respond to the demand of Lucas’s kiss.  

“Lucas… Lucas,” Eliott warns as he feels his balls contract tightly towards his body. He’s too far gone to come back from the precipice, and he welcomes the surrender without resistance. It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time that his muscles seize and he’s shuddering in Lucas’s hold, his cock spurting ropes of pleasure onto Lucas’s fist. He lets the waves of his orgasm wash over him, tipping his head back with a satisfied groan and eyes closed as he relishes Lucas pulling the last of it out of him.

He looks back to the boy straddling his thighs when Lucas releases him, only for his spent cock to jerk in one more valiant effort at orgasm when he sees that Lucas is pulling down his own briefs. He’s hard again, and he shoves the offending material down and out of the way only enough for him to get a fist around himself. Eliott moans at the sight, watching as the hand Lucas had used to get him off – the hand still covered in the evidence of Eliott’s orgasm – wraps around his erection.

Lucas is impatient with rediscovered need, wisps of hair stuck to the sweat collected on his forehead, and heat radiating from his body, seeping into Eliott’s skin. His mouth drops open, eyes locked on Eliott’s face but gaze hazy and unfocused. Eliott sweeps his hands from Lucas’s hips back, slipping beneath the material of his briefs until he can grip the soft rounds of Lucas’s ass. He kneads his fingers against the flesh, marveling at the fact that he gets to do so. He’d do more, the desire to see Lucas thrusting up through his fist, using Eliott just as he needs, an image so explicit and perfect Eliott tucks it away for later, but Lucas doesn’t need any help now, and Eliott can’t be sure he wouldn’t shatter completely if more than the pleasure of his own hand was offered.

Instead, Eliott raises himself just enough to press a gentle kiss to Lucas’s open, panting mouth, before dropping his eyes down to where the head of Lucas’s cock disappears and reappears through the tight grip of his fist, fat, swollen red, and dripping precum.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eliott groans, his own dick throbbing painfully with renewed but impossible desire, aching with regret at having already expended his pleasure.

Lucas makes a sound, a choked whine before he’s falling forward, pressing their foreheads together as his body jerks and shudders, his cock painting his still pumping fist. He’s breathing harshly as he comes down, body shivering with aftershocks.

Eliott sweeps his hands up Lucas’s back, holding him gently as he seeks out Lucas’s lips. They indulge themselves in a slow kiss, tongues tangling together in a union that speaks less of a growing need than it does satiated comfort.

Eventually Eliott pulls back, turning to retrieve a couple of Kleenex’s from his bedside table. He does his best to clean Lucas’s hand but it’s a relatively useless endeavour. The state of them both is far too debauched for Kleenex to be sufficient. He looks back to Lucas with a small smile, squeezing his hips in suggestion.

“I should get us something to clean up.”

Rather than roll off him as Eliott is expecting, Lucas shakes his head, the angle with which he tips his face down preventing Eliott from seeing his expression clearly, and then he’s shuffling forward and pulling Eliott into a tight hug.

“Not yet,” he whispers, lips soft at Eliott’s neck.

Eliott wraps arms tightly around Lucas’s back, returning the unexpected tenderness. Their bodies press together, sticky and warm, trembling and spent. He pushes his face into Lucas’s hair, inhaling the sweet scent of the boy in his arms.

“Ok. It can wait.”

It can wait. 

Notes:

See you next week bbs ❤️️❤️️❤️️

Chapter 6

Notes:

Some of you may have noticed the amount of chapters for this fic has increased. That isn't because I wrote more but because I realized I needed to split some chapters, including this one. This chapter and next will be a little odd in terms of length (this one longer, chapter 7 quite short). I have reasoning for that but I'll explain later. For now - hope you like ❤️️!

When Eliott wakes there’s light streaming in from his window that suggests it’s much later in the morning than he intended to sleep and there is one very gorgeous boy propped up on an arm staring down at him.

Eliott quirks an eyebrow. “Watching me sleep? Romantic of you.”

Lucas snorts which only makes Eliott grin. “You wish I was that romantic.” Eliott has a very strong suspicion that he doesn’t have to wish. Lucas might think he has Eliott fooled, but there’s little doubt the stubborn little shit has a romantic streak a mile wide. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Eliott asks, curious. He pushes himself up on his own arm, rolling to face the boy at his side. He can’t help but touch, soft and inviting as Lucas looks, and runs a hand up his arm, over his shoulder, cupping the side of his neck where he brushes a thumb along delicate skin.

“I’ll go to the pre-exam thing with you. The party.”

Eliott’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “What?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You heard me.”

“But…” Uncertainty begins to eat away at the inner lining of Eliott’s stomach. “Are you sure?” Charles will be there. That is a certainty. And suddenly the idea of Lucas being in the same space as that prick – the risk of him being in the same space, feels all too present and all too real. It no longer feels like a solution at all.

Lucas exhales a soft laugh. “I thought you wanted me to go?”

“Yeah,” Eliott rushes to assure, moving the hand on Lucas’s neck up into his hair. He scritches gently at his scalp. “I do. Of course, I do. I just…” He can’t articulate his thoughts any more than he can speak his fears. “I don’t want you going just for me.” That’s true enough, he supposes.

Lucas is abruptly reaching forward to shove Eliott by the chest, forcing him to roll to his back as Lucas moves to straddle his stomach. Which is… a welcome development. Lucas grins as he looks down at him, hands pressed to Eliott’s bare chest. He wears briefs but nothing else. At some point he’d removed the wrap around his tattoo and the design stands out, prominent along his inner bicep. There’s a slight crease on his right cheek left from the pillowcase. His hair has fallen soft and unstyled about his head. He looks sleep rumpled and so incredibly sexy it sets Eliott’s teeth on edge.

“You really think you’re that important, hunh?”

Eliott raises an eyebrow, skimming hands along Lucas’s thighs and up until the material of the briefs bunches and stops him from going any further. “I think you like me.”

Lucas matches his expression. “That’s the same thing?”

Eliott grins. “Admitting it then?”

Lucas’s eyes drop to his hands splayed on Eliott’s chest. He raises one, using a finger to trace something. It takes Eliott half a minute to realize he’s written a word.

Yes.

“I like you too,” Eliott says, compelled to match Lucas’s honesty.

Lucas huffs, looking amused. “Yeah, I know. You’re kinda obvious.”

Eliott grins, shameless with it. “What was it that gave me away? Stalking you or the sex thing?”

“Hah!” Lucas crows. “Knew you were stalking me.” He reaches to twist Eliott’s nipple, and if he’s going for discomfort or pain in doing so, he really needs to work on his delivery.

Eliott grabs his hand, bringing it to his mouth to nip at Lucas’s knuckles. “I was pretty obvious about it.”

Lucas watches him for a moment, eyes fixed on Eliott’s mouth. And just when Eliott thinks they’re going to spend the rest of the morning indulging in a couple more rounds of thorough appreciation of one another, Lucas is rolling off him and hopping from the bed.

“Hey,” Eliott complains, reaching for him, though he’s not fast enough. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Lucas looks over his shoulder from where he’s rooting around one of Eliott’s dresser drawers, producing a t-shirt. Eliott watches with interest as he pulls it over his head, torn between what’s more appealing: half naked Lucas or Lucas in Eliott’s clothing.

“I’m hungry,” Lucas says, letting the material of the shirt drop until its draped over his body, soft, too big for him, and much too attractive on him. “You guys have food?”

“Cereal, I think,” Eliott sighs, realizing the battle is lost. He forces himself out of bed.

It would seem Lucas had forgotten Eliott remained naked following the previous night’s exhaustive session of wiping them both down. Lucas’s eyes widen, his cheeks heating, before he bites his lip, eyes darting away. Eliott chuckles as he watches him. “You’re allowed to look, you know.” He makes his way to his dresser to retrieve a fresh pair of briefs and a t-shirt. Lucas doesn’t answer and when Eliott looks back over his shoulder, Lucas’s eyes dart away from where they’d very clearly been stuck on Eliott’s ass. It makes Eliott wonder, not for the first time, how much experience Lucas has with relationships of any kind. Eliott recalls his comment the night before about not doing “this” – something serious, he’d said. But the shy, almost demure way Lucas is approaching the morning after doesn’t exactly imply he’s terribly experienced with casual fucks either.

Eliott moves towards him, compelled suddenly to reaffirm touch between them, to make Lucas understand he can touch. Lucas’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, bumping into the bedroom door. Eliott follows him, hands moving to cup Lucas’s face as he presses their lips together. He doesn’t make it a long kiss, just ardent enough to have Lucas begin to respond, mouth opening and hands moving to grip Eliott’s waist, before he’s pulling back with a wide smile.

“Now c’mon.” He chuckles at the bewildered look on Lucas’s face, unable to stop from pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “Let’s go get you some food.” A quick pat to Lucas’s bum and he leads them out of his room and into the hall. “I think we have Coco Pops,” he calls back over his shoulder as he enters the kitchen. “And maybe cornflakes.” He begins searching the cupboard, pulling out what cereal he can find. When nothing is said in return, Eliott pauses, glancing back to see Lucas standing at the kitchen table, a speculative look on his face as he traces a finger over the back of one of the chairs. He doesn’t look like he’s been listening at all. “Lucas?” Lucas glances up. “You ok?” He nods, but it’s clear there’s something he wants to say. Eliott stays silent and waits.

“It’s just…” Lucas bites his lip, fingers dancing an anxious beat against the back of the chair. “I want to tell you something.” Eliott raises his eyebrows with a nod, understanding Lucas needs to get this out at his own pace. “It’s not a big deal.” It very obviously is, but Eliott won’t call him out on the lie. “But, like, with Alexia’s and everything –”

“We don’t have to go,” Eliott quickly cuts in, moving in his direction. He stops facing him, brushing fingers down Lucas’s forearm until he can link their hands. “I shouldn’t have pushed. It really doesn’t matter and –”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Lucas laughs, squeezing Eliott’s hand. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. It’s just that,” he shrugs, “with the rumours and stuff… you’re gonna find out and I’d rather you hear it from me.”

Eliott’s curiosity piques despite himself. “What rumours?”

Lucas meets his eyes only for a second before he’s pulling away, passing Eliott and reaching for the cereal laid out on the counter as he speaks.

“That stuff with me and Charles – you know.”

Eliott’s heart skips a beat. Fuck. “What about him?” But Lucas had said ‘me and Charles’, meaning the two of them, together, paired in one rumour. And Eliott had wondered. He can admit it to himself now. Since Charles had mentioned knowing Lucas in high school – the way he’d mentioned it, Eliott had wondered, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it, not for many reasons. Paramount among them being the level of betrayal he was – is – guilty for.

“We knew one another, uh, in high school.” Lucas’s breath stutters. He faces away, fiddling with his cereal bowl. “Daphy and I – we’d just lost our mom and things were kinda fucked up. And… I was different then.” Charles had said as much, but Eliott doesn’t dare voice that thought. Lucas too had mentioned this briefly when they’ve been safely ensconced in the shadows of the bridge. Eliott’s spot.

“How do you mean?”

“Daphne.” He turns, leaning back against the counter and offering a dry smile as he likens his former self to his sister’s current self. He’d alluded to this too but at the time hadn’t gone into any detail. “Wanted to fit in – all that shit. I think I just wanted to feel good when everything else felt so shit.” He sighs, eyes dropping for a moment. “Charles was like… the guy, you know?” He looks up, waiting for Eliott to acknowledge this with a nod. “I guess I was sort of… into him.” He winces. “Everyone was,” he rushes to add.

Eliott offers a kind smile. “It’s normal to crush on the popular guy in high school, right?”

“Normal for a straight girl. Sure. Bit different when you’re not out.”

Eliott nods in understanding. “Yeah. Guess so.” On this, Eliott is reluctant to admit, he doesn’t have personal experience that aligns with Lucas’s own understanding of high school. Eliott had known he wasn’t straight at the time, but he’d been dating a girl, and for all intents and purposes, and as far as the student body at large had been concerned, he’s been straight, or… ‘straight enough’ to avoid both scrutiny and judgment.

“Anyways, uh, there was this party.” Lucas takes a deep breath, looking away from Eliott. “And, like, afterwards there were these rumours.”

Dread grows in Eliott’s gut, an icy surge that spreads to encompass the rest of his organs. “What kind of rumours?”

“That I got drunk and –” His voice hitches. He’s still not looking at Eliott. “I mean, I did get drunk but –” Every word is clearly taking an effort to speak. “They said I got drunk, and I was, like, offering to blow a bunch of guys and shit.”

“Jesus.”

Lucas’s eyes dart to him, his discomfort clear. “I didn’t – I wasn’t.”

For all the anxiety Lucas is giving off, Eliott tries his best to temper it with his own reaction, calm and understanding. Tension locks the muscles of his body, but Lucas is not the cause of that, and Eliott does his best not to let it show, offering a reassuring smile. “Yah. Ok.”

Lucas assesses him for a moment, speaking again only when he seems to deem it safe to do so. “But I did –” He swallows. “I did want him. Charles.” He makes a face, disgusted with his past self.

“Did he… know?” Eliott asks haltingly, imagining the Charles he’s known – manipulative, arrogant, and cruel – aware that someone like Lucas, younger and far more vulnerable, wanted him. It sends a chill down Eliott’s spine.

“Yeah, I think I maybe… told him.” His shoulders slump, resigned to the memory. “I was drunk and just… stupid.”

A fierce wave of protectiveness hits Eliott as he imagines Lucas as a young teen, having barely accepted he was gay, with a crush on a boy who in no way deserved his affection. “It’s not stupid to like someone.”

“It was stupid to like him.” Eliott wants to disagree, but he understands what Lucas means too. And he relates, in a truly awful, despicably ironic way. It’s stupid to give Charles the time of day in any way. Eliott is that stupid.

“Was he the one who started the rumours?”

Lucas looks surprised that Eliott has parceled this out. He nods. “Yes.”

“Fucker,” Eliott spits. Lucas doesn’t look nearly as angry as he recounts Charles’ terrible behaviour, fear being the only dominant emotion he displays.  

“They weren’t, um…” Lucas’s eyes don’t move from Eliott now, locked on his face as he awaits every twitch of reaction. “They weren’t completely untrue.”

Eliott’s blood runs cold. This too, he had suspected. He’d hoped he was wrong. “What part?”

“I guess, I kind of…” Lucas blows out a breath, as though frustrated with himself for how difficult it is to voice the retelling. “I was flirting or whatever.” He takes a measure of Eliott’s face, whatever he sees, allowing him to continue. “And then we were alone and he said if I liked him I would…” He trials off, eyes dropping tellingly to the front of Eliott’s briefs.

Eliott inhales a sharp breath. “Fuck.” He means it in so many more ways than one.

Lucas looks back up with a smile that holds no humour. “Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I was into it. I’d never – I never blew a guy before. But I was drunk, and it didn’t seem so scary. And he was… the guy.”

“Yeah, I… I get it.” Eliott’s voice catches. He does get it. There is no reality in which he would ever find Lucas at fault for this. But he can’t fully grasp what this means – what it could mean.

“I thought he liked me back… letting me do that.” Lucas’s pain is all too present, telling the story evoking past wounds as though the memory were fresh. Eliott imagines in many ways it still is. “But afterwards…”

“He was an asshole.” It’s not a question.

Lucas nods. “He wasn’t even embarrassed, you know? I guess it wasn’t gay as long as it was his dick in someone else’s mouth. As long as I was the one doing the sucking.”

“He’s a prick.” Eliott doesn’t think he’s ever felt rage directed at someone else quite like he does in this moment.

Lucas shrugs. It’s nothing he doesn’t know but that knowledge changes nothing in the past. Eliott feels that reality just as acutely. “He told everyone.” Lucas’s voice cracks, and Eliott’s heart with it. “Said it was sloppy and he thought gay guys were supposed to be better than that.” Eliott will kill Charles. Kill him. “And then… everyone knew.”

“I’m so sorry, Lucas.” For so much more than Lucas could possibly know – for so much more than he can ever find out. He steps closer.

“It fucking sucked,” Lucas admits. “Like suddenly everyone knew me as the gay guy but also… the slut.” He brings a hand to rake back through his hair, tugging with frustration. “Guys were yelling at me in the halls – asking if I’d blow them too. Everywhere I went it was just… that’s all I was.”

Eliott reaches out to brush fingers down Lucas’s arm until he can link their hands. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“No.” Lucas’s gaze rests on their entwined fingers. “And Yann –”

“Yann was there?” Eliott asks, surprised.

“He got into a lot of fights defending me.” He looks back up with a shrug and sad sort of smile. “Eventually I just learned not to care.”

Lucas’s former words come back to Eliott now. “Not to trust.”

“Yeah. That too.” He exhales heavily. “And now, it’s like a cruel joke – like I can’t escape him.” He shakes his head. “He wasn’t supposed to go to school here. He went to London. I guess he fucked it up or whatever and he came back.” Came back and continued making Lucas’s life a living hell whenever possible. “I think he was always mad I didn’t keep chasing him – didn’t beg.” He rolls his eyes just a little and it’s a welcome sight, a welcome return of attitude. “Think he expected it.”   

Eliott twists his lower lip with the fingers of his free hand as his mind races. “Do your friends – your other friends – do they know?” They couldn’t – could they? The level of cruelty it would take to involve Charles in any kind of plan involving Lucas isn’t something Eliott can imagine of Arthur and Basile. Ridiculous as the two may be, they don’t strike Eliott as malicious.

Lucas looks momentarily puzzled by the question. “Bas and Arthur?” He shakes his head. “Met them in Uni. Not exactly a memory I like sharing.” He shrugs. “Nice thing about them being, uh… not as popular is they’ve never really been part of that scene. I don’t think they’ve even heard the rumours.”

Eliott breathes a sigh of relief. It’s bad enough his friends had helped orchestrate the fake-dating scheme, Lucas doesn’t deserve that level of betrayal too. “Why are you sharing with me?” Realizing how the question might sound, he rushes to add, “I’m glad – I’m glad you did. I just mean –”

“I’ve seen you talking to him,” Lucas interrupts and Eliott’s pulse skyrockets. “I figured he was doing it to fuck with me – to get to you.” It’s a cruel sort of irony to hear Lucas say that. That despite Lucas’s promise to himself not to trust anyone, he has trusted Eliott. He’d only considered how Charles had been manipulating the situation. “I wanted to tell you before he did.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to him. He’s a fucking asshole.” Eliott’s a hypocrite. He is aware. But he means what he says all the same.

Lucas’s hand squeezes his a little tighter, his eyes dropping once again. “I didn’t want you to think I was, like –”

“I don’t,” Eliott rushes to assure, cradling Lucas’s face between his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the asshole.” He exhales a shaky breath, imploring Lucas to believe him. “I can see why you don’t want him around Daphne.”

Lucas’s face darkens. “He’ll use her like he used me.” His jaw stands out with tension. “I think that’s why he went after her. Think he thought it was funny. Another notch on his bedpost and another way to fuck with me.”

“Did you ever consider… telling her?” Eliott asks with hesitancy.

“She heard the rumours – couldn’t exactly avoid them. She was in the year below me and people talked,” Lucas admits. “But I don’t think she ever believed them. And I just wanted… one person in my life who didn’t see me like that.”

Eliott strokes a hand back through Lucas’s hair. “I understand.” He tries for a slight smile. “Seems like maybe she’s beginning to appreciate Bas, anyways.”

Lucas exhales a sound of amusement. “Yeah.” He brings a hand to the front of Eliott’s shirt, tugging gently. “You’re ok with all of this?”

“Of course,” Eliott assures without hesitancy. “Not like I don’t have a past of my own.”

“Any assholes like Charles?”

“Not quite.” He shrugs. “I’ve got an ex. Lucille. We didn’t end on the best of terms, but we stayed kinda-friends and… she’s no Charles.” That is saying the very least.

“Yeah,” Lucas says with a loud exhale. “Don’t think a lot of people are.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere he’s going to be.” Eliott tries not to make his desperation too apparent. If they can avoid Charles – avoid everywhere he’s going to be, avoid ever speaking to him again – maybe Eliott can forget how this all began. Maybe Lucas never needs to know. “We can just avoid him and –”

“No,” Lucas interrupts. There’s no aggression in how he does so, but he does sound determined. “I’ve done that for years.” He holds eye contact, fierce in the words he speaks. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. He doesn’t have any power over me,” But he has power over me, Eliott thinks. “I just want to live my life. Go to a party with my boyfriend and not worry some asshole’s gonna ruin it.”

Eliott stares as Lucas’s words replay in his mind, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Boyfriend?”

Lucas’s face flushes an immediate red, startling in its intensity. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

“Oh right.” Eliott adopts a mock serious expression. “Hypothetical boyfriend.”

Lucas is not entirely successful in subduing his smile. “That’s right.”

“Not me.”

“Not you.”

They smile at one another.

“We’ll go then,” Eliott agrees, ignoring the way the very thought grips him like a hand to the throat. “Fuck Charles.”

Lucas smile widens. “Yeah. Fuck him.”

Eliott wishes it could be so easy.

* * * *

* * * *

“Will I see you for lunch?” Eliott asks, swinging their linked hands between them as he looks to Lucas.

Lucas hums non-committedly, eyes swinging around the hallway as they walk in the direction of his morning class.

“Hey,” Eliott teases, squeezing his hand, “what could be more interesting than looking at me?” That gets Lucas’s attention, as Eliott knew it would.

“Lots of things,” Lucas answers, giving him an amused look.

“Like what?” Eliott prompts, bumping into someone and stumbling slightly, acceptable payment for the reward of not taking his eyes off Lucas.  

“Watching paint dry.”

God. He’s such an asshole. Eliott likes him so much.

“So, I should make other plans then?” Eliott challenges, smile so wide he knows Lucas won’t take him seriously even for a moment. “For lunch?”

Lucas’s eyebrow arches. “With what friends?”

Eliott laughs, as appalled as he is amused by the mouth on this boy. His boy. “Haven’t you heard? I’m very popular.” He adds in a cocky wink, just because he can. “Everyone wants me.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, looking ahead of them. “You’re insufferable.”

“You still like me,” Eliott points out, entirely smug about it. “Think I’m boyfriend material.” His heart thumps a little quicker with the words. It’s thrilling and terrifying to say them. He’s sure Lucas feels the same hearing them. If he weren’t so fucking distracted that is. Eliott sighs, watching Lucas’s profile as the other boy appears to be searching the hallway for something. “What are you looking for?” Eliott finally asks.

Lucas looks back to him and Eliott’s breath catches in his throat at undisguised mischief written plain across his face.

“This,” Lucas answers, but before Eliott can ask what he means, he’s been pulled bodily sideways towards a tucked away alcove. Eliott stumbles as he’s dragged into the… supply closet?

Lucas slams the door shut behind them, locking it just as swiftly, and turns to Eliott with a grin. A motion activated light casts a dim glow around them. He doesn’t give Eliott time to acclimatize to their surroundings before he’s pushing him back into the shelves and kissing him.

Though startled by the unexpected change of plans, Eliott gets with the program quickly, weaving one hand into the hair at the back of Lucas’s head, the other gripping tightly at his waist as their lips slant together. There’s a fiercely determined purpose to the way Lucas is kissing him, not unwelcome, but unexpected considering only ten seconds ago Eliott thought he was merely walking Lucas to class.

He breaks their kiss only when Lucas’s hands move to his pants, fumbling with the clasp. “Lucas?” He asks with a breath of confused laughter as the other boy presses into him, seeking out his lips once more and causing Eliott to unintentionally knock several items off the shelves behind him. “Lucas,” he repeats, exhaling a shaky breath as Lucas gives up on reclaiming his mouth and moves his attention to Eliott’s neck instead, biting and licking as his hands fumble further south. “What are we doing?”

“You’re not doing anything.” The words are muffled against Eliott’s skin, but clear. “I am.” He’s got the clasp and zipper undone now, and he doesn’t waste any time slipping his hand into Eliott’s briefs, fingers tentative but moving with intent.

Eliott sucks in a sharp breath, tipping his head back until it knocks into the shelf as Lucas grips his cock. His movements are restricted by Eliott’s pants and underwear, but even so, he has Eliott straining in his hand, stiff and throbbing, with little more than a few slow, dry drags up and down the length.

“God,” Eliott groans, looking back down to Lucas. “You’re really doing this to –” His words catch as Lucas’s thumb rubs over the tip of his erection. “To me h– here?” He manages to say.

Lucas hums, mouth pulling up in one corner. “Mmhmm.” His tongue wets his lower lip. “Want to go to class knowing what you taste like.”

Eliott opens his mouth to question that, but Lucas is already dropping to his knees. Eliott inhales sharply, his hand tightening in Lucas’s hair more out of alarm than surprise.

“Lucas, you don’t have to –”

“Would you relax?” Lucas huffs exasperated, looking way too relaxed for the picture he makes as he drags Eliott’s pants and briefs down. Eliott’s erection springs free, so close to Lucas’s mouth it wouldn’t take anything more than –

“Oh fuck,” Eliott breathes as Lucas’s tongue catches a bead of precum as it blurts from the tip.

Lucas looks back up, catching Eliott’s eyes with a sly grin. “I’m not a blushing virgin.” He’s definitely not. But Eliott still can’t help but think – “I just don’t do this a lot,” Lucas admits, confirming the thoughts forming in Eliott’s head. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” He doesn’t wait for any further comments, moving one hand to wrap around the base of Eliott’s cock as he sinks down, mouth stretching wide to accommodate Eliott’s girth.

His mouth is bliss. Eliott moans, doing his best to keep his hold in Lucas’s hair loose and absent any kind of demand as he’s brought further into wet heat. It’s challenging though. Lucas is… eager. There’s no finesse to his technique. It’s like he’s guided by instinct alone, enthusiastic, and unpracticed in the best way. Spit dribbles down his chin as his eyebrows pull together with concentration, taking Eliott deeper into his mouth. He pumps what he can’t reach absentmindedly in a tight fist, the pace of his mouth and hand moving in a contrasting tempo that shouldn’t be working on Eliott the way that it is, hurtling him towards orgasm in a way that reminds him far too vividly of his early sexual years, when stamina hadn’t even been a word in his vocabulary.

Lucas’s other hand moves to Eliott’s balls, cupping and fondling him as his mouth takes Eliott apart. Eliott’s hand unwittingly tightens in Lucas’s hair. And god, the things he wants to do to him. He wants to hold Lucas there, his cock deep in his throat, grip tight in his hair. He wants to fuck his mouth. He wants to paint Lucas’s face in his pleasure. Eliott groans loudly and doesn’t dare say the words out loud, panting as he stares down at Lucas bobbing on his cock, letting him set the pace, too afraid that if Lucas knew the filthy thoughts occupying Eliott’s head, he’d never touch him again. And Eliott can’t have that. He can’t. He hasn’t even come yet and he’s already imagining the next time, and the time after that. He can’t ever again go through life without Lucas’s mouth, not when he knows the euphoria of it.

“Lucas,” he warns in a deep groan, “I’m gonna – oh fuck – I’m gonna come.”

Lucas pulls off, pumping him without pause through his slick, perfect fist. He looks up, meeting Eliott’s eyes, “Come in my mouth,” and takes Eliott’s cock back into its wet, warm depths, and Eliott is done for.

Maybe he should protest – be the gentleman Lucas seems to think he is – but he’s clean, and he’s not a good enough person to turn down the offer. He moves the hand he’d been using to steady himself against the shelves to join his other in Lucas’s hair, holding him there, perfect mouth sucking the head of Eliott’s cock, tongue lapping at the underside, as he feels his orgasm crest.

“Oh god – I’m - Lucas – I’m coming…”

The lights flick off as Eliott’s orgasm rolls through him. He squeezes his eyes shut, resisting the urge to shove Lucas’s head down further, and shudders as his cock pulses against Lucas’s tongue. Lucas pumps him through it, the suction of his mouth so perfect Eliott could weep. He pulls back only after Eliott’s body gives one last spasm of pleasure and Eliott exhales loudly, body sagging back against the shelves in utter satisfaction.

It’s a surprise to open his eyes and be met with darkness. He hadn’t been sure the loss of light was real and not merely his own brain blacking out with pleasure. He moves an arm to wave through the air, triggering the light as he feels Lucas rise in front of him. His breath catches as the small room illuminates and he’s met with the sight of his boy.

Lucas is grinning, clearly happy with himself. His hair is a tousled mess and his lips puffy, pink, and swollen from the blowjob. Eliott could swear his eyes are sparkling. He is…

“Fucking beautiful,” Eliott breathes, reeling Lucas in for a kiss. He can taste himself on Lucas’s tongue. They’re both smiling when their mouth’s part. Eliott cups Lucas’s face, brushing his thumbs along his cheekbones. He presses a quick kiss to the tip of Lucas’s nose before he releases him and stoops to pull his pants and briefs back up. He refastens them before looking back up with a smirk, hooking a finger into a loop at the waistband of Lucas’s jeans and pulling him closer. He raises an eyebrow, dropping his attention to the front of Lucas’s pants. His jeans do a relatively good job of disguising it, but Eliott knows he must be desperate by this point.

To his surprise, Lucas unlinks Eliott’s finger from his waist, joining their hands together instead as he shakes his head.

“I’m fine.”

Eliott raises a disbelieving eyebrow, no words needed, and Lucas laughs softly.

“Really.”

Eliott hums, unconvinced but willing to respect Lucas’s wishes. “So, what did I do to deserve a blowjob before class?”

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “It wasn’t about you.” Well, if that wasn’t about him, Lucas did one hell of a job making it seem like it was. His thoughts must be reflected on his face because Lucas adds, “Ok, maybe it was a little bit about you.” He shrugs, looking down to their linked hands, his voice quiet. “But I wanted to.”

“Yeah, you were really… into it,” Eliott says, mind gone a bit hazy as he recalls. It’s only when Lucas’s eyes snap back to him that he realizes the comment might not be understood as the compliment he intends it to be. “And good,” he adds quickly with a slow smile. “You were really good.”

“Yeah?” There’s a cockiness to the way Lucas responds. To someone who didn’t know him better it would sound like he was very aware of exactly how good he’d made it. But there’s a vulnerability that can read in his posture, free hand clinging to the front of Eliott’s shirt, his eyes taking stock of Eliott’s face as though he’ll be able to find a lie tucked between the compliments. And Eliott realizes… he’s coming to know Lucas. Really know Lucas.

“God, yes,” he confirms with a satisfied exhale. He tips his chin in the direction of Lucas’s lower half. “Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” He would be more than happy to return the favour.

Lucas shakes his head, tongue darting out at the corner of his mouth as though there are remnants of Eliott he can still capture there. “Wanna go to class like this. Thinking about it. Thinking about you.” His hand lands on top of Eliott’s on his hip, dragging both down until Eliott is cupping him through his jeans. Eliott inhales a jagged breath at the feel of him there, hard and straining against the denim. “Thinking about what you’ll do to me later.” Lucas’s voice has dropped to a husky whisper, his eyelids fluttering as Eliott moves his hand against him in a lazy sort of rub.

Eliott swallows heavily, a pulse of renewed desire making his dick ache. “Yeah?”

“Mmm,” Lucas hums, tilting his head up to speak the words into Eliott’s lips. “Thinking about you inside me. Fucking me.”

Eliott’s entire body shudders, the images the words invoke too explicit and way too fucking hot for his body not to respond. “Fuck. Lucas.” Impossibly, he can feel his dick plumping in the confines of his pants.

Lucas licks his lips and Eliott mimics the action, hanging onto every word coming from that mouth. “Thinking about your cock. I could ride you. I know you’ve thought about it.”

“Yeah,” Eliott croaks, “I – I’d like that.”

Lucas breathes a short laugh. “So polite.” He tilts his head. “Would you be that polite when you’re inside me?”

“If you wanted.” He means it. Lucas could tell him to do anything in that moment and Eliott would trip over himself to obey.

“I don’t think you would.” He smiles, mischievous and still the cutest thing Eliott has ever seen in his life. “I think you’d tell me how good it was. Being inside me. Watching me fuck myself on your cock.” The words are obscene. In total contrast to the pretty mouth they fall from.  And Eliott’s dick is suddenly so hard he could hammer nails with it. He doesn’t think he’s ever recovered so quickly from an orgasm. But then, one Lucas Lallemant hadn't been whispering filthy things in his ear all those other times. “I think you’d have all kinds of dirty things to say.” Eliott’s hand tightens at Lucas’s hip, his other still cupping Lucas through his jeans, suddenly so frustrated by the barrier of clothing, using his bare hands to tear through it seems a feasible option.

“Lucas.” His voice is weak now, reedy and desperate.

Lucas’s attention flicks between Eliott’s eyes and his lips. “And you’d let me use you just how I wanted.”

“I – I would,” he breathes. “Anything you wanted.”

“I’d get tired though.”

“Yeah?” Eliott’s heart is thumping so hard he can feel the pulse in his dick.

“Mmm,” Lucas hums. He’s short of breath and it’s some comfort to know his words are getting to him just as much. “Would need you to finish me off. Not like that though. I’d want you to fuck me hard. Fuck me into the mattress. Fuck me so I could feel you all day.”

“God.” It feels like being high. Listening to Lucas’s words. Picturing them. It feels like the best kind of high.

“Think you could do that?” Lucas blinks up at him, his beautiful blue eyes too wide and far too innocent for the words he speaks.

“Fuck yes,” Eliott answers, no longer holding back, no longer having to. “I’ll fuck you ‘til you cry. I’ll fill you up – cover you in me.” His voice has dropped to a lower tenor with his desire. He speaks every word clearly. “I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll think you can’t take it, but you’ll still beg me for it, you’ll still want more.” He’s never wanted to see through a promise quite like this before. “God. You’ll never want another cock after me. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Eliott.” Lucas’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated. If they weren’t in a fucking custodian’s closet, absent lube or any sort of comforts, Eliott would offer to fuck him right then and there. Lucas licks his lips, eyes dropping to Eliott’s mouth. “I should get to class.”

“What?” Eliott blinks, playing Lucas’s words back inside his head before he exhales a disbelieving laugh.

Lucas pushes away from him, moving backwards to the door, a now familiar, impish smile retaking his face. “I’m already late.”

Eliott’s eyes drop to Lucas’s pants. “You’re going to go out there? Like that?” In truth, Lucas’s jeans disguise his current state quite well, but Eliott had felt his erection for himself.

Lucas raises an eyebrow, flicking his own eyes down to the front of Eliott’s pants. “I think you’re the one who needs to worry about that.”

Eliott follows his gaze. “Fuck.” He’d worn his threadbare black jeans that morning, only because they were the cleanest pair he had available to him in that moment. He regrets the decision terribly now. They are doing very little to hide his aroused state despite the darker colour of the wash which would otherwise serve as adequate camouflage.

Lucas bites his lip, for a moment looking mildly regretful to have to leave Eliott in such a state. “I’ll see you at lunch then.”

Eliott blows out an amused breath, remembering the conversation that led them here. “You expect me to sit across from you at lunch and not want to ruin you?”

Lucas shivers, plain to see even in the dim light of the closet. “You can want it…”

Eliott gives him a dry look. “You’re enjoying teasing me way too much.”

Lucas grins, very obviously relishing every moment of Eliott’s torment. “I think just enough.”

“Hey Lucas,” Eliott says, just as the other boy turns to open the door to the closet. Lucas looks back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in question. Eliott grins. “So, what do I taste like?”

Lucas smiles. “Sweet.” And then he’s gone, disappearing back into the hall, leaving Eliott like –

Eliott looks down at where his pants tent.

Fuck.

It was worth it though. One hundred percent worth it. He has a feeling that thought might become a trend when it comes to Lucas.

* * * *

* * * *

Eliott turns the corner only to immediately throw himself back around it, receiving a number of looks from the students passing. He peers cautiously back around the bricks of the building, eyes landing on where Daphne stands with Charles just a slight distance away. Too far to hear what they’re saying, though Eliott strains to do so.

Daphne stands with her arms crossed, holding a book to her chest as Charles speaks. She doesn’t look particularly uncomfortable, but she doesn’t look at ease either. She laughs as Charles says something, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear, but while it might otherwise look like a girl enjoying the attentions of an attractive guy, Eliott doesn’t miss the way she takes a step back, shifting just slightly out of reach, even as she smiles.

Eliott tenses, wondering if he’ll have to intervene, when Charles turns and begins to leave. He throws a wink back over his shoulder at Daphne, and Eliott cringes at the display. The absolute loser really does think he’s God’s gift to women – likely thinks he’s God’s gift to men too – when in reality, he’s a walking advertisement for the dangers of STI’s.

Daphne’s deflates the moment Charles turns away from her, her body slumping in a way that’s a little more than relaxed. She looks like the conversation with Charles has physically exhausted her.

Eliott double-checks that Charles is out of sight before he begins making his way towards Daphne. She looks over to him as he approaches, her face brightening into a pretty smile.

“Eliott! Hi!”

He returns her smile, not finding it hard to do so despite the anxiety seeing Charles had invoked. But it would be hard to look at Daphne’s sunshine face and not smile.

“Hey, you alright?” He gestures to where Charles had disappeared. “I saw you with – uh, with Charles.” He wonders if that’s explanation enough, realizing only then that Daphne couldn’t possibly understand his aversion to the other man.

Thankfully, she doesn’t look confused by the question. “Oh, Charles? It’s fine.” She waves a hand through the air in a dismissive gesture before running it back through her hair. It reminds Eliott of Lucas.

“What did he want?” Eliott asks after a moment, well aware the question might seem intrusive, and the answer definitely none of his business, but willing to take the risk when it feels as though he has so much on the line – when he does.

Daphne continues to look unbothered. “Oh, he just wanted to ask me to the pre-exam mixer.” She says it with an easy fluttering of her hand, totally unaware of the way her words have made Eliott’s heart lodge somewhere in his throat.

“What did you say?”

She shrugs. “I said I’d go with him.”

“You…” He can barely get out the words. He doesn’t know if it’s panic or relief he’s feeling. “You’re going with him?”

“Oh no,” she laughs. “Agreeing is just easier.”

“But…” Eliott’s mind spirals through several scenarios.

“He can deal with my dad when he shows up.” She smirks, and Eliott must admit, he admires her in that moment, as decisive as she is – as confident. He wishes he could feel as sure of his own choices.

“You’re not worried he’ll be angry?”

“I don’t care.” Her gaze drifts for a moment as though she’s caught in a memory. When she looks back to Eliott, there’s something apologetic – or maybe regretful – in her eyes. “There were some rumours – back when we were in high school.” Eliott’s heart stutters in his chest. “I thought they were all bullshit but – I don’t know.” She shakes her head with a sad smile. “I think maybe he might be as bad as my brother always said.”

“Yeah, um…” Eliott clears his throat, dropping his eyes to the pavement. “I think so too.” Worse than that, Eliott thinks. So much worse and… he’s a part of that. He allowed himself to become part of that.

“He really likes you.” She’s smiling softly when Eliott looks back up to her. “Lucas.”

“I like him too.” He wishes desperately the sentiment didn’t have to come with so much guilt attached. That he could enjoy it. But Eliott is the cause of that too.

“I don’t even know how you got him to go out with you in the first place.” She laughs a little, staring at him with something akin to wonder. It makes Eliott feel a bit sick. “Lucas never dates.”

“Just… lucky, I guess,” he manages to croak.

Her eyes take on a cheeky glint, as though she knows something he doesn’t. There is no doubting she and Lucas are related. “And you’re totally his type.”

Something about the way she says it sparks Eliott’s curiosity and he welcomes the distraction. “I thought you said he didn’t date.”

She glances around them furtively, though no one stands nearby, and leans closer. “I borrowed his computer once.” She giggles, embarrassed by the memory and Eliott suddenly has an idea of where this is going. “He had left some browsers open…” She gives him a significant look. He laughs, cringing on Lucas’s behalf. He hopes Lucas never experienced the horror of learning his sister knew his porn preferences. “So yeah… you’re totally his type. Like… his fantasy type.” She raises an eyebrow, so obviously and diabolically thrilled to have shared this information with Eliott.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I guess I’m… flattered?” His bizarre-turned-romantic conversations with Lucas regarding the porn star rumours take on an entirely new light.

Daphne giggles and considers him for a moment. “Are you taking him to the party?”

“Yeah.” Eliott nods, the anxiety that had been diluted by thoughts of Lucas and porn, once again making itself known. “He decided he wants to go.”

“Good.” She looks pleased, genuinely happy for her brother. “I like seeing him happy.”

Eliott swallows heavily and hopes his inner turmoil doesn’t show on his face. “Me too.” It’s a paltry reply, but there’s no way to easily summarize how much he likes Lucas, and how desperate he is to protect the other boy’s happiness.

Daphne turns slightly, gesturing to the pathway beside them. “I’m meeting Basile. Do you want to come?”

Eliott musters up a smile as he shakes his head. “Meeting Lucas.”

“Ok,” she chirps, offering a wave as she turns to leave. “Bye Eliott.”

“Bye Daphne.”

There are a million thoughts running through Eliott’s head, a million worries, but there is one that dominates the rest: Charles is going to be angry. And as selfish as it is – as fucking despicable – Eliott can’t help but worry what that wrath will mean for him. For them.

* * * *

* * * *

His good spirits are renewed the moment he catches sight of Lucas, sitting at a table with Yann outside the small café frequented almost entirely by students.

Eliott’s face splits into an instantaneous smile and he forces all of his worries to the background, nothing but a dim hum at the back of his mind. Present, but easy to ignore.

“Hi,” he greets, flopping down onto the seat next to Lucas with a wide smile.

Lucas jumps, not having seen Eliott approach, and the moment their eyes meet, Lucas barely holds contact for a split second before he’s looking away. He redirects his eyes back to his food, blushing fiercely. Eliott watches him… intrigued.

“Hi.” Yann’s voice on the other hand is nothing but amused.

Eliott turns to look at him with an apologetic smile. “Hey, you good?” He can’t be blamed for forgetting other people exist when Lucas is next to him looking gorgeous and shy. That’s what it is, isn’t it? He’s shy. The boy who dragged Eliott into a closet to suck him off before class and whispered the most explicit and filthy things in his ear, is now shy about it in the light of day.

It’s fucking adorable and Eliott twitches with a need to look at him again.

“Yeah,” Yann answers, eyes flicking to Lucas as he grins. “I’m alright. You?”

Eliott shrugs. “I’m ok.” That’s enough conversation to be considered polite, right? He looks back to Lucas, biting his lip around a smile as he takes in the way the other boy still isn’t looking at him. “You have a good morning?” If possible, Lucas’s blush deepens. He hears Yann exhale something like a laugh from across the table.

Lucas gives his friend a grumpy look before he turns it on Eliott. If he thinks that’s going to dissuade Eliott, he’s got another thing coming. He’s about as cute as a newborn kitten, fur fluffed up in a vain effort to appear larger and more threatening than he is, and about as intimidating as that too.

“I had class. Exam review. It was fine.”

Eliott’s smile widens. “Yeah?” He turns sideways on his chair facing Lucas and leans a little closer, dropping his voice to something he might be embarrassed to admit is transparently meant to seduce, if it weren’t for the way Lucas’s eyes drop to his lips. “Just fine?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving,” comes Yann’s voice. Thankfully he sounds more amused than annoyed.

“Sorry,” Eliott instantly apologizes as both he and Lucas turn to him. “You don’t have to go.”

Yann shakes his head, smiling as his eyes flick between them. “It’s all good.” His attention lingers on Lucas for a second, something Eliott can’t decipher being silently communicated between the two friends. “Have a good lunch.”

Lucas thumps Eliott on the shoulder the moment Yann is out of earshot. “Idiot. You scared him off.”

Eliott returns his smile to Lucas, unapologetic as he’s ever been. “I did warn you.” He reaches for the edge of Lucas’s chair, dragging him closer until he’s situated between Eliott’s spread legs. Lucas’s cheeks still hold a very enticing rosy glow. “You can’t look like this and expect me to be normal.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, but Eliott can tell he’s basking in the flattery. “I look the exact same as I did this morning.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Lucas jerks an elbow into his ribs and Eliott flinches only a very little. “Are you always this…?”

“Insatiable?” Eliott fills in with a grin.

Lucas huffs. “I was going to say ‘stupid’.”

Eliott laughs. “Isn’t love supposed to make people stupid?” His brain lags behind his words and it’s only as that word is in the air between them that he realizes the gravity of what he’s said. Love. He hadn’t meant to say it – not like that. They’ve barely begun to get to know one another. It can’t be love. Can it? Rational thought – experience – tells him no. But then there’s that feeling in his gut, backed up by the warmth in his chest, and the total lack of panic in his brain. He’s going to love Lucas. He’s going to love him… if he’s not already there.

He half expects Lucas to freeze, to turn away from him, to make an excuse and leave, or crack a joke to relieve any building tension. What he doesn’t expect is for Lucas to melt before his eyes, pivoting on his chair until he faces Eliott. He keeps his face tilted down, partially hiding his expression, but for the soft upward curve of his lips which Eliott finds himself hypnotized by. Lucas reaches for the front of Eliott's shirt, tugging gently as he looks back up through his eyelashes. Eliott wonders not for the first time, if Lucas is aware of his power when he looks like that, if he knows how many men who would drop to their knees in a heartbeat for him. The many men who won’t have a chance because somehow – inexplicably – Lucas likes Eliott. Somehow Eliott got that lucky.

“Are you doing anything after class?”

Eliott moves a hand to Lucas’s face, brushing the pad of his thumb over one of Lucas’s eyebrows before dragging his fingers back into his hair. He shakes his head, tipping his head down just enough that should Lucas want to kiss him, he’s well within reach.

“You want to hang out?”

“Yeah.” Lucas’s lips brush over his chin, his voice quiet and suggestive. “Could we go to yours again?”

God, yes. Eliott moves until their lips hover just a breath from one another as he nods. They’ll go to his place, and he won’t let Lucas leave bed. He wants to put his mouth all over his body. He wants to eat him out until Lucas cries. He wants to make him come so many times he forgets everything else – everything but those moments together when that’s all they need – one another. No friends, no –

“Fuck!” Eliott expels with an aggravated breath.

“What?” Lucas asks, startled.

Eliott cringes, irritated with himself for forgetting.  “I promised Idriss he could have the place with Manon tonight.” He looks at Lucas hopefully. “What about your place?”

Lucas scrunches his nose with a shake of his head. “My dad will be home.”

“We could just hang out together,” Eliott suggests. “We don’t need to do anything.” Lucas exhales a sound of disbelief. It makes Eliott grin. “What? We could.” He dips down to press a kiss to the side of Lucas’s neck, enjoying the way the other boy shivers. “Just sleep next to one another…”

Lucas huffs, pushing Eliott’s chest until he’s forced to raise his head. “That was you convincing me?”

Eliott bounces an eyebrow. “I thought I was very convincing. Why?” He tugs a little at Lucas’s hair. “Can’t you control yourself around me?”

Lucas smirks, so suddenly and devastatingly sexy, Eliott knows immediately he stands no chance against this boy and that smile. He never did. “Can you control yourself around me?” Lucas asks, knowing the answer.

Eliott sighs, recognizing an argument lost. “I’m supposed to get some studio time in tonight anyways,” he admits.

“Eliott,” Lucas laughs, shoving him in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Eliott grins. “Thought I was gonna get lucky.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, but his smile is just as wide. “You already got lucky.”

“Yeah,” Eliott breathes, scratching his fingers lightly against Lucas’s scalp. “I did.”

Lucas’s blush is back. Eliott doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look quite as pretty with pink cheeks.

“We’ll see one another tomorrow?”

Eliott nods, wondering how he’s gone the entirety of his life without Lucas, and yet one night apart sounds torturous. “Yeah.” The party. Charles. Eliott violently shoves the thoughts away, dipping down to press a soft kiss to Lucas’s mouth. He can’t give this up. He can’t lose Lucas. “Tomorrow.”

* * * *

Notes:

So it's Christmas this week and I am off on a trip with family. I hope anyone who celebrates has a lovely holiday. As I mentioned, the next chapter is super short but I didn't want to post it on or right around xmas. It'll go up likely a couple days after.

Just a couple of notes about this chapter:
- Please ignore the fact that Yann is clearly in a different season in that skateboarding pic. It bugs me too but I wanted to use that pic 😤!
- There's an artsy easter egg in this chapter (or spanning across this chapter) that does connect to the story. Did anyone catch it or am I just the biggest art history nerd there is?

Chapter 7

Notes:

I hope everyone is having a lovely holiday and getting some time off to relax! There is a trigger warning for this chapter and that more than anything should make it clear why I broke this up from the last chapter and didn't want to post it on Christmas 😬. Anyways, here we go...

Trigger Warning: The f-word (as in a gay slur) is used in this chapter. If you have any questions or concerns, drop me a comment or message me on tumblr (surrealsunday).

* * * *

Eliott hurries into Idriss’s room for the third time that evening, spreading his arms as he lets the couple on the bed judge his outfit. He’s wearing a worn, threadbare white t-shirt this time, his last outfit being deemed too formal. This choice might be crossing the line into too casual, but the worn quality also means it hangs loose and almost transparent over his chest, and there’s something about that he thinks Lucas might like.

Idriss shrugs, as unhelpful as ever. “I dunno, man. Looks fine.” He’s so unbearably straight sometimes it pains Eliott.

He sighs, looking to Manon instead who sits half curled against Idriss’s chest and smiles. “I like that one.” She tilts her head a little, assessing the outfit. “What jacket are you going to wear? Or that collared shirt?”

Idriss groans next to her. “You know he’s going to make us do this all over again for jackets now, don’t you?” Manon laughs softly while Eliott glares at his friend.

“I want to look good.” It’s rare. Not the desire to look good, but the fussing over details. He usually throws on whatever is convenient and hedges his bets on his looks when it comes to getting laid. And yes, he’s aware how arrogant admitting such a thing would sound but… it always worked. Things are different now. He doesn’t just want to look good; he wants to look good for Lucas.

“You do,” Manon assures him with a soft smile. “And Lucas won’t care what you wear.”

Idriss scoffs loudly beside her. “I’ll say. That kid’s down for you no matter what.”

Eliott swallows around the lump in his throat, looking down as he smooths his shirt. “Yeah, I – I hope so.”

“Hey,” Idriss waits for Eliott to look back up, his voice softer now, “you look good, bro. Don’t sweat it.” He knows why Eliott is and he’s been supportive in Eliott’s decision to leave everything in the past and move forward without telling Lucas about the deal with Charles. Eliott knows Idriss doesn’t agree with his choice, but his best friend also knows what’s at stake, and Idriss doesn’t have a perfect solution any more than Eliott does.

Eliott exhales heavily and nods. “Thanks.”

“Are you picking him up from his place?” Manon asks.

Eliott shakes his head. “Meeting him there. Couldn’t get the car.”

Manon nods in understanding. “Probably for the best. His dad is something else.”

He makes a face. “Yeah. Kinda got that impression.”

“Why does he still live there then?” Idriss asks.

Eliott opens his mouth, but Manon speaks before he can. “He might not be for that much longer.” She looks back to Eliott with a smile. “That’ll make things easier for you two.”

Eliott stares at her surprised. “He’s moving out? He didn’t say anything…”

“I think it just happened,” Manon explains. “Nothing official. But he and Daphne have been talking. She wants more independence.”

Eliott blows out a breath. “Wow.” It would make things a lot easier. He wonders if Lucas has thought about where he might live – who he might live with. Whether he’s considered roommates or whether –

Eliott shakes his head, laughing silently to himself. You’ve known him for all of two seconds, Eliott. Calm down.

It’s only that… he can picture it. Their future together. Waking up together. Falling asleep together. Doing mundane things like cleaning the flat and ordering in when they’re too lazy to cook. It’s nothing he’s ever pictured with anyone before but somehow the images come easily when it involves Lucas.

More importantly, he wants it. He wants that future as long as it comes with Lucas.

He looks to Manon. “Leather jacket? Or you want to see that shirt again?”

Idriss throws a pillow at his face.

* * * *

* * * *

Eliott spots him from behind as Lucas walks towards the outdoor patio space where several partygoers are collected. He moves stealthily behind him until he can press hands over Lucas’s eyes, putting his lips to his ear.

“Guess who.”

Lucas is tense in his arms only until he hears Eliott’s voice, his body immediately relaxing as he leans back into Eliott’s chest. “Dunno. Some dumbass who wants to get punched in the dick.”

Eliott pouts, dropping his hands, allowing his forearms to rest on Lucas’s shoulders as the other boy turns in his arms to face him. “I thought you liked my dick. It doesn’t deserve to be punched.”

“Yeah?” Lucas shakes his head, but his smile is wide. “Well hasn’t anyone ever told you sneaking up on people comes with dick-punching risks?”

Eliott smirks, making it just the right amount of suggestive. “I can think of better things to do that involve a lot less violence.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, tilting his head in the direction of the patio. “Are we gonna go into this party or are we going to stand here all night and talk about how horny you are?”

Eliott’s eyes drop to Lucas’s lips. “Say that again.”

Lucas laughs, shoving Eliott’s arms off his shoulders. “C’mon. I want to be here for once.”

“Really?”

Lucas nods, reaching for Eliott’s hand to weave their fingers together as he leads them towards the people gathered. It might be the first time he’s ever initiated holding hands. Eliott might be the one blushing this time.

“It feels different this time.”

“Because we’re together?” Eliott asks, following Lucas as they squeeze through the crowd and into Alexia’s home.

Lucas looks over his shoulder with a smile, candid and sweet. “I feel safe with you.” He turns back to continue leading them through the space, but Eliott can’t wait any longer.

He pulls Lucas firmly by the arm, swinging him around and immediately pressing their mouths together. Eliott can feel Lucas smile against his lips as he winds arms around Eliott’s back and pulls him closer, sinking into the contact. Lucas only pushes him away when Eliott threads a hand through the back of his hair, deepening the kiss as he licks into Lucas’s mouth. But at least he does it with a laugh.

“Just gonna maul me like that?” He grins, one of his hands brushing down Eliott’s arm to relink their hands. “In front of everybody?”

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “Was thinking about it…” There are eyes on them, in fact. Eliott can feel them, can see them in the corner of his vision, but for the first time since transferring schools, he’s not bothered to find himself the center of attention. He’s proud to be with Lucas.

Lucas’s eyes drift back to Eliott’s lips and for a moment he looks tempted. “You’re kinda easy for me, hunh?”

It startles a laugh out of Eliott. “Yeah.” Lucas is grinning at him. “Thought you were clear on that already.”

One of Lucas’s eyebrows bounces as though to say, ‘Just confirming what I already knew,’ before he turns to continue pulling Eliott through the increasingly crowded living room. They run into Daphne and Basile just as they make it to the kitchen where the make-shift bar has been set-up.

“Eliott!” Basile cries, throwing himself at Eliott in service of a hug.

Eliott and Lucas exchange a silent laugh as Eliott pats Basile on the back. “Hey, Basile. You having a good night?”

Basile separates them, keeping hands locked on Eliott’s shoulders as he speaks at a volume close to a whisper but too informed by alcohol to quite get there. “I’m here with Daphne! She came with me.”

Eliott chuckles, looking to where Lucas has begun making himself a drink next to his sister as they chat. “Yeah, I guessed that.”

“And you’re here with Lucas! Isn’t this perfect?”

Eliott pries Basile’s hands off him, patting him on the shoulder as he does so. “It’s pretty great, yeah.”

“He never goes to parties. And now you’ve gotten him to go twice!”

Eliott shifts on his feet, uncomfortable about where this is going and exactly how loose Basile’s tongue might become when he’s drinking. “Yeah, um, let’s leave it.” He takes hold of Basile’s bicep, directing them both to where Lucas and Daphne stand. “You two are having a good time?”

“The best,” Basile enthuses, moving back to Daphne’s side.

Lucas looks up from the drinks he’s mixing, holding one out for Eliott.

“Oh, I’m not –”

“No alcohol,” Lucas interrupts. “Just some juice and, like… fizzy drinks.”

Eliott wants to kiss him again. He satisfies himself with smiling as he takes the drink.

“And you?” He tilts his chin to Lucas’s drink. “I don’t mind if you –”

“No.” Lucas holds his drink, stepping closer to Eliott as he retakes his hand. “Being here is enough. I don’t need the alcohol.”

“And I don’t need you embarrassing me again,” Daphne says from beside him, waiting for Lucas to look back to her before she adds, “No table dancing tonight, ok?”

Eliott tenses, wondering if Lucas will be upset by the reminder, but Lucas only rolls his eyes. He looks to Eliott with a wiggle of his eyebrow, charming and ridiculous in the most enamouring way. “Normal dancing is ok though, right?”

“You want to dance?” Eliott asks, a little surprised.

Lucas nods. “Yeah. I used to dance all the time with my friends.” Eliott has a vivid flashback to the way Lucas had moved when he’d danced on the table. As bad as the situation had been, Lucas’s dancing had not. He’d been… very, very sexy. Eliott swallows.

“Ok but… I don’t really dance.”

Lucas laughs a little, squeezing Eliott’s hand within his own. “Why? Afraid it’ll ruin your mysterious reputation?”

Eliott gives him a dry look. “I can dance and still be mysterious.” He scrunches his nose. “I mean… if I could dance.”

Lucas hums. “I think porn stars are allowed to be bad dancers.”

Eliott exhales a surprised laugh. “What?”

Lucas grins, impish and adorable as he leans into Eliott’s space. “Your reputation.” One of his eyebrows rises with suggestion. “You make up for it with talent in other places, right?” The lascivious suggestion is clear.

Eliott’s eyes drop to his lips. God. He really, really wants to kiss him again.  

“Ok.” Eliott isn’t even sure what he’s agreeing to anymore. All he knows is he’s putty in Lucas’s hands. He’d give Lucas anything. Everything.  

* * * *

* * * *

Lucas throws his head back as he laughs, and Eliott doesn’t think he’ll ever stop thinking it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life. He’ll dance like a moron for as long as Lucas demands if it will keep him laughing like that.

Eliott hops from side to side and does a little wiggle into Lucas’s space as they move to the beat – or not to the beat in Eliott’s case.

“You’re such a dork,” Lucas laughs. “You really can’t dance.”

Eliott smiles widely, not bothered at all by what is, in fact, a fair assessment of his skills, and wraps an arm around Lucas’s back to pull him closer. “I did warn you.” He’s never personally had a problem with his inability to carry a rhythm. It’s always been others who have complained. Lucas doesn’t seem to share their reservations.

“I guess you did.” Lucas returns his smile.

Basile suddenly appears at their sides. “You guys!” He squeaks, his pitch making it easy to hear him over the music and general party revelry. He throws arms around both of their shoulders, pulling them closer, and Lucas and Eliott exchange a quick, amused look.

“What’s up, Bas?” Lucas asks, reaching to loosen the grip Basile has on him.

“Ok, ok, ok.” He glances around them furtively and Eliott can’t help but do the same, searching out Basile’s date who doesn’t appear in line of sight.

“Where’s Daphne?” He asks.

“Bathroom!” Basile’s so high strung Eliott might find it funny if he wasn’t getting proximity anxiety from the other boy. Bas looks between them with wide eyes. “Do you think I should kiss her?”

Lucas snorts. “You’re asking me if you should kiss my sister?”

Basile doesn’t seem to understand why this might be uncomfortable for Daphne’s brother, and he continues to look between them seriously as he nods. “Yes! I’ve been thinking about it but… do you think I should? Do you think she wants to kiss me?”

“I don’t know, Bas,” Lucas answers, shrugging his friends’ arm off with a grimace. “I don’t want to think about her kissing anyone.”

Eliott chuckles, replacing Bas’s arm with his own around Lucas’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “Have you asked her, Basile?” Eliott asks.

Bas looks shocked by the question. “You can do that?!”

“Yes,” Eliott laughs, entirely entertained now. “You do want to know the person you’re kissing wants to be kissed. It’s kind of important.” He scritches fingers at the back of Lucas’s hair and enjoys the way the boy under his arm leans into him.

“Yeah, but… ask?” Basile questions, looking skeptical but intrigued.

Eliott shrugs. “Sure. Why not?” Lucas makes an amused sound at his side and Eliott glances down at him. “What?”

Lucas gives him a look that seems to be saying a lot of things, though Eliott isn’t sure of what. “You’d do that, and it would be hot,” he says, and heat sparks to flame in Eliott’s chest. “But Bas…”

“I can be hot!” Basile objects, looking quite offended.

“I’m sure you can, Basile,” Eliott comforts. He catches sight of Daphne coming from the other side of the room and quickly adds, “Just be yourself and don’t be afraid to talk to her. Girls like that.”

“Yeah?” Basile looks hopeful and even a little determined now.

“Sure,” Eliott agrees, tilting his chin in Daphne’s direction. “There she is. Go get her.” Basile looks mildly terrified, but he nods and leaves without another word.

“Girls like that, hunh?” Lucas questions, turning in Eliott’s arms as he stares up at him with an eyebrow raised.

Eliott grins. “That’s right.”

Lucas scoffs. “You know saying, ‘Be yourself,’ is different for you.”

Eliott rests his arms on Lucas’s shoulders as they face one another. “What do you mean?” They’re moving slowly to the music, totally at odds with the fast-paced beat, but it feels right to sway to their own silent tune.

Lucas shrugs under the weight of Eliott’s arms. “Basile’s a mess, and you’re all, like…” He breaks eye contact, “You know.”

Eliott pulls him a little closer, smiling helplessly at the endearing boy in his arms. “I’m what?” The fact that Lucas thinks Eliott isn’t a mess has to be the sweetest, most inaccurate appraisal Eliott’s ever been given.

Lucas sighs, reluctantly meeting his eyes. He’s doing his best to look unimpressed but there’s a glow sitting high in his cheeks. “You’re charming.” He says it like hours of interrogation have exhausted him into giving up the answer. He must see how much the statement pleases Eliott and he scrunches his nose and adds, “Even when you’re being a creepy stalker.” It’s not the insult he thinks it is.

“Knew you thought I was charming.” He leans a little closer, dead set on getting the kiss he’s been yearning for since the moment their lips parted, when he’s being violently pulled out of Lucas’s arms.

Charles face, pinched with fury, is the last thing Eliott wants to see. It’s the only thing he should have expected. He knows this. He had just… hoped. Hoped the situation would disappear if he ignored it entirely. Hoped he could somehow escape without this confrontation. Hoped he’d have more time with Lucas before it all came crashing down.

“What the fuck is Daphne doing here with that loser?!” Charles spits. Lucas stands just behind Charles’ shoulder now, looking too stunned by the interruption to have registered any kind of emotion beyond shock.

Panic strikes adrenaline in Eliott’s veins. “Let’s just –” He tries to usher Charles to talk elsewhere, but the other man is having none of it.

“I didn’t fucking pay you to take out the school’s frigid fag so that loser could snake me with Daphne.”

The world drops out from beneath Eliott’s feet. His eyes stay locked on Lucas, and he sees the shock, the disbelief, the fury, and the pain as each emotion flickers over Lucas’s face. His features harden and he turns, pushing his way through the surrounding crowd.

Eliott lurches to follow when Charles wrenches him back again, grip strong around Eliott’s forearm.

“No, no, no,” Charles snarls. “You owe me money.”

Eliott inhales sharply, properly turning his rage on Charles, and he might have done real physical harm, if someone else didn’t get there first.

A fist appears beside Eliott’s shoulder and suddenly Charles is holding his nose as he bellows in pain. “What the fuck, Daphne?!” Eliott looks to his side, stunned to see Lucas’s sister standing across from Charles, her face pure fury.

“That’s for insulting my boyfriend!” She yells, and before Eliott has even processed the scene, she’s kicking Charles directly in the crotch. Charles doesn’t even make a sound, wheezing as his eyes roll back in his head and his body curls over itself, his hands moving from his bloody nose down to cover his dick. “That’s for my brother!” Daphne isn’t done and she shoves Charles forcefully by the shoulders, sending his incapacitated form toppling to the floor, where he curls on his side as he groans. “And that’s for me!” Daphne finishes.

Basile appears beside her, looking as shocked as Eliott feels.

“Holy shit, Daphne.” He stares at Charles crumpled on the floor before looking back to his date, an ecstatic smile stretching over his face. “That was amazing!”

“Yeah?” Daphne looks flustered by her own actions but equally proud.

Eliott can’t waste anymore time on the scene, or the sack of shit now curled in a fetal position on the floor. Shock has frozen his muscles, but he forces his body into motion, rushing through the room in the direction Lucas had disappeared.

There’s no sign of the other boy when Eliott makes it outside and for a moment he nearly allows his panic to swallow him, but then – there – in the distance, with one hand pressed to a tree and his body hunched over.

Lucas.

Eliott runs towards him with no plan in mind. All he knows is that he has to fix this. He can’t lose Lucas.

Lucas must hear him coming, he turns for a split second before whipping back around with the clear intention of leaving without acknowledging Eliott at all.

“Lucas! Wait! Please wait.” Eliott reaches him and manages to just barely brush a hand against his arm when Lucas is turning on him, his expression colder than Eliott has ever seen it.

“How much did he pay you?”

Eliott gapes at him. He can barely process the words. “What? Lucas –”

Lucas smiles. There’s no humour or happiness in it. He looks nothing like himself. “I want to know what I’m worth.” The words slice into Eliott, jagged and sharp. This is what he has done – what he has made Lucas feel.

“Please Lucas, if I can –”

Lucas cuts him off. “This whole time…” He looks away, exhaling a shaky breath and there’s something raw and real in how he speaks now. Eliott clings to the hope that he can get through to Lucas. He can explain. They can talk about this. “I thought it was weird… that you liked me.” Lucas looks back to him, meeting his eyes, his own glistening with unshed tears but steely with resolve. “But you didn’t. You never did.”

“No, that’s not true,” Eliott gasps the words, so terrified by the prospect of not being able to fix this, he can barely find breath. “I did. I do.” He doesn’t know how to begin to sum up the way he feels for Lucas, how to make someone he’s betrayed so terribly understand that despite his actions, his feelings had been true – the truest thing he’s ever felt. And how can he convince Lucas that is enough, when Eliott knows that isn’t for him to decide. “Lucas, I like you so much.” The words aren’t nearly enough to encompass the depth of his feelings, but they are all he has. He pleads with his eyes but nothing in Lucas’s softens.

“Did he pay you to fuck me?”

Eliott inhales sharply. “Lucas, no.” He drops all pleading from his voice, speaking as seriously as he can in the hopes his honesty will ring true. “No. I swear it. Please, I – please let me explain.”  

It’s as though Lucas hasn’t heard him at all. “What was it?” He sneers. “A fifty if I sucked you off? Cool hundred if I let you put it in me?” Eliott flinches as though physically slapped. He had never considered this is what Lucas would believe – what he would assume. He’s not sure if it’s because Lucas thinks the worst of Charles, the worst of Eliott, or if they are now one and the same in Lucas’s eyes.

“No. It – it wasn’t like that. I didn’t care about the money.” His voice breaks, fear bringing tears to his eyes, but he fights them back. There’s nothing he can say that will make this right. He tries anyways, broken and distraught as he is. “I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you.”

Lucas scoffs, “Right.” He cuts his eyes away, his jaw locked in tension.

Eliott stares at his profile, despair leaving his voice thready and weak. “I’ll do anything – anything to fix this, Lucas.” He means it. Every word. “Please just… tell me what to do.”

Lucas blinks rapidly and Eliott can see him swallow, but when he looks back to meet Eliott’s eyes, his face is a blank slate. There is no hope to be found in it. “You know I thought I hated him more than I could ever hate anyone,” Lucas says and Eliott’s heart drops, “but I think I hate you more.”

He turns, walking away without a glance back.

Eliott doesn’t follow.

* * * *

 

Notes:

We all know it had to happen tho! Not just because this is a 10 things au but because the story demanded it at this point. I'll work through it though! Will get the next chapter up as soon as I can!

Chapter 8

Notes:

Sorry this took a little while but I slipped into vacay mode and could not locate my productivity anywhere 🙈

But I hope it will satisfy! Enjoy!

Eliott rubs his eyes, wincing at the way they ache. Between the lack of sleep and the tears he’s shed over the weekend, his eyes have taken a beating. He squints into the early morning light and waits.

Lucas is early to school on Mondays. It had previously come up when Eliott had mentioned he liked being in the studio first thing on Mondays to start the week off on the right creative foot. At the time, Lucas had made fun of Eliott’s phrasing before tentatively mentioning that if their timing lined up, they could start the week together.

Eliott swallows around the pain the memory brings. He had it – him – Lucas, but it was wrong from the start. It’s the conclusion he’d come to during another sleepless night running the situation over and over in his head, the deal with Charles, the betrayal in Lucas’s eyes, the anger in his words… the resolve when he’d said he hated Eliott. They have to start over. They have to do it right this time – Eliott has to. And he will. He’ll spend a lifetime making it up to Lucas, a lifetime showing him how devoted Eliott is to him, that it had only take one look from Lucas, one word spoken with anything but affection, and Eliott had been his.

He just needs Lucas to give him a chance.

Whether he deserves it or not, and Eliott is pretty sure he might not, he needs a chance. He needs a chance because somehow, in the short time they’ve known one another, Eliott doesn’t want to imagine a future without Lucas.

And he’s sure – he’s so sure – he can make Lucas happy. They can make one another happy. They have.

So, he’s laying in wait, like the kind of creep Eliott would never have imagined himself to be. But then, he’d never have thought he’d take money to date pretty boys either. He’s disappointed himself in many ways over the last month. And a way out, a way to fix things, seems further and further out of reach. But he has to try, and this is the only option he sees available to him.

Understandably Lucas was not answering his phone calls or any of his messages. Eliott didn’t blame him. The other boy’s silence had not been unexpected, nor underserved. And anyways, there was no way to get across what Eliott needed to say in a text message. He can only hope Lucas’s surprise at seeing him will buy enough time to get out what he needs to say.

Eliott’s heart leaps into his throat as he spots Lucas walking with Yann at his side. Eliott thirstily takes in every detail, desperate to map out and memorize every bit of Lucas, every mole, every smile, every gesture… everything Eliott had held in his arms for too short a time – not nearly long enough. He’ll never get enough. Not of Lucas.

Lucas wears a hoodie that’s too big for him. It dwarfs him, making him seem smaller and more vulnerable than normal. He looks tired, but then maybe Eliott is projecting his own sleepless nights, imagining the other boy is as miserable and lonely as Eliott has been without him.

Lucas is nodding along to something Yann is saying and neither of them have noticed Eliott. He holds his breath as they pass, frozen with anxiety, with the paralyzing fear that he may have irreparably damaged things. Maybe there is no coming back from this.

“Lucas.” He steps away from the building that had been shrouding him in shadow and behind the two.

Lucas’s steps have frozen but he doesn’t turn to face Eliott. Yann, however, does and Eliott quails at the look on Lucas’s friend's face.

Yann knows Eliott. He knows him outside of this thing with Lucas. But it’s clear any positive feelings he might have held for Eliott are now irrelevant. There’s warning in the way he’s looking at Eliott and it seems clear the only reason he hasn’t stepped in to do worse is because Lucas had not given him a signal to do so.

Eliott doesn’t have much time. He knows this. He has to make it count.

He inhales deeply and speaks, the words he’d practiced over and over as he’d lain awake in the darkness of his bedroom, suddenly forgotten. But it doesn’t matter. He only has to say what he feels. No more lies and no more hiding.

“I’ll leave,” he begins, throwing a cautious look Yann’s direction before he looks back to Lucas’s frozen figure and continues, “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll leave right after. I just…” He blows out a breath, collecting his thoughts, “I want you to know something, even if it doesn’t change anything.” Eliott pauses, allowing time for objection. He wants to speak but not against Lucas’s will. Lucas turns his head just a little, enough for Eliott to see a sliver of his profile but it’s enough. It’s permission to continue. “Charles paid me to go out with you.” He begins with the bare facts. “I didn’t care what it meant, and I didn’t think about who it would hurt. I needed the money.” He breathes around the shame. “I told myself I needed the money.” And he had, but not at the expense of someone else, not when it meant using someone as though they were nothing more than currency being exchanged. “And you were hot… and interesting. I thought it would be easy. No harm done.” He winces a little at his phrasing. It is what he thought, but it feels horrible to speak the words when he’s aware of exactly how much harm he’s done. When the evidence of that is standing right in front of him. “I didn’t expect you to be… you.” The words are laughably inadequate. He continues, driven by a need for Lucas to understand how Eliott sees him – that he does see him. “You’re so much more than I expected, Lucas. You’re beautiful and you’re kind but you’re funny too, and you’re challenging and –” He blows out a breath. He could wax poetic about Lucas forever, but there’s really only one thing that matters. “I like you so much.” His hands are shaking. He twists them into the material at the bottom of his jacket. “And I’m so sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I want you to know – I need you to know that it was real. All of it. All of it was real for me.” He drops his eyes to the pavement, shame eating away the lining of his stomach, hot and acidic. “Even if it started like it did – even if it started with a lie.” He could continue, he could beg for hours if Lucas would let him, but he knows there’s a limit to what Lucas will hear – and what Yann will tolerate.

Eliott glances hesitantly up at Lucas’s friend to see that Yann’s eyes are still on him, but his gaze is considering now, and less filled with loathing. Though maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Yann reaches to press a hand to Lucas’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Lu.”

Lucas’s face is still turned slightly towards Eliott, but no expression or emotion can be made out from what little Eliott can see of him. And then he’s turning away entirely and nodding, allowing Yann to lead him away.

No relief comes with having spoken his piece. That wasn’t the point. Eliott had only wanted Lucas to know. Selfishly and desperately. He needed to believe he had a chance, to believe he wasn’t going to lose Lucas – that he hadn’t already lost Lucas.

Despair blankets Eliott, a heavy, oppressive gloom he can barely see through. He recognizes the warning, a depressive episode pressing at the edges of his vision. A part of him wants to give in, to curl under blankets and let the negative thoughts consume him. A part of him thinks he deserves it. But even then, the thought feels indulgent; To give into the pain when he is the cause, to let himself feel it when Lucas is hurting just as much – more.

Eliott reaches for his phone, texting Idriss instead. He doesn’t have to say much.

I tried. I don’t think it matters.

Idriss replies immediately.

Where are you? I’ll come to u

They meet in the courtyard where it all began. Eliott hadn’t made that decision intentionally. He’d simply found himself there, sitting and staring at the space he’d first seen Lucas kicking around the ball with his friends.

Idriss’s hand lands on his shoulder with a soft squeeze as he takes a seat on the bench next to Eliott.

“Hey, you alright?”

Eliott doesn’t look away from the empty courtyard, but he nods. He’s not alright – not nearly – but the response is involuntary.

“I saw him for the first time here.”

“Lucas?” Idriss asks unnecessarily.

Eliott hums in confirmation. “I should have asked him out. I shouldn’t have…” He trails off with a weary exhale, dropping his eyes to where his fingers twist in his lap. “I should have told Charles to fuck off the second he opened his mouth.”

“Why didn’t you?” The question is asked with curiosity and without judgment, and Eliott does his best not to flinch in shame, answering with the sort of honesty Lucas deserved from the beginning.

“I thought…” He sighs, looking up to Idriss with a shrug. “I thought it was about the money – that I needed the money.”

Idriss nods. This isn’t anything he hasn’t been told before, but he hears what Eliott hasn’t said. “It wasn’t?”

“It was,” Eliott admits, “but…” He pauses, eyes drifting back to the empty courtyard as he pieces through his own tangle of thoughts. “I think I just wanted an excuse to hang onto that feeling.”

“What feeling?”

Eliott shakes his head, the words difficult to find, the emotions even more challenging to express. “Like I was alive.” He glances back to Idriss to assess whether his friend understands the sentiment. “I was in such a fog for so long…” Idriss nods, encouraging Eliott to continue. “And then I saw Lucas and I didn’t even know him, but he was so…” On this, Eliott truly can’t find the words.

Idriss chuckles. “Yeah. I get it.”

Eliott offers him a small grateful smile. “He made me feel like I was present again – like I wanted to be… for him.” He thinks of what it felt like to look at Lucas for the first time, the way his interest had immediately piqued, the way delight had infused through his blood when Lucas had barely given him the time of day, the way Eliott had felt himself for the first time in a long time. “And somehow knowing him – getting to really know him – made it even better.”

“Have you told him that?”

Eliott offers a partial shrug. “I said what I could. I don’t think he wanted to hear it.”

“Can’t blame him there.”

“I don’t,” Eliott rushes to say, though nothing about the way Idriss had spoken or continues to watch him suggests he intended the words to serve as challenge. “I don’t,” he repeats, tiredly. “I just wanted – hoped – he’d –”

“Forgive you,” Idriss finishes for him and Eliott looks back to him with a nod.

“It’s selfish, I know.”

Idriss shrugs. “You’re falling in love with the kid. You don’t want to lose him. It makes sense to me.” In love. The words aren’t a shock. He wonders how long they’ve been present, waiting for Eliott to give them voice. He’d imagined a future with Lucas – wanted that future more than anything – and they had been there, thrumming at the very core of his being, pressing at the back of his ribcage until keeping them trapped any longer had come with a physical manifestation of pain. He's falling in love with Lucas. Eliott understands love, he’s felt it before – for family, friends, Lucille – but it’s never felt like this. He’s not sure what to do with that. He’s not sure how to even begin accepting how irrevocably he’s fallen for Lucas when there’s a very real chance – a possibility he can barely bring himself to acknowledge – that he’s lost him.

“Is she still mad at you?” The question makes no sense in the context of their conversation, and yet it does. He knows Idriss will understand who he means. Manon.

Idriss hadn’t burdened Eliott with the fall-out in his own relationship as a result of Eliott’s actions, but it hadn’t been something his friend could hide either, not with the fraught phone calls, Manon’s sudden absence from their flat, and the morning Idriss had come back, eyes bloodshot, looking like he had spent the night begging for forgiveness rather than sleeping – which Eliott imagines, he probably had.

“Yeah,” Idriss admits, not bothering to question how Eliott had come to be aware of Manon’s anger. “But it’s better.”

Eliott nods, relieved for his friend. “And me?” He swallows, imagining how Lucas’s friend must hate him now. “Does she…?” He can’t bring himself to finish the question.

“Think she’s better with you than me, actually.”

“What?” Eliott looks to Idriss in surprise. That hadn’t been the answer he expected at all. “Why?”

“She gets how much you like him, I guess.” He shrugs, projecting indifference but it’s obvious the toll his fight with Manon has taken on him. “Saw it herself. Knows you’re both suffering.” He exhales heavily. “I’m the one who was sleeping with her – and keeping it from her. What I knew.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Eliott insists, guilt clawing at his throat. “I can talk to her – I can tell her –”

Idriss cuts him off with a shake of his head. “It’s alright. She was right to be mad. And it’s better now.” He offers a slanted smile, weary but confident. “She knows how I feel about her. Knows I’ll make it up to her.”

Eliott’s heart thumps painfully in his chest. “She forgave you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Idriss exhales a loud breath, rubbing one hand at the back of his neck. “Or she will. With enough groveling.”

“What if –” Eliott’s voice breaks. “What if he can’t?” He swallows around the painful lump in his throat. “What if he won’t?”

“Lucas?”

Eliott doesn’t answer.

Idriss sighs, moving his hand to rest between Eliott’s shoulder blades, comforting in its warmth and weight.

“I think it’s out of your hands now,” he says, his hand rubbing gentle circles against Eliott’s back. “You gotta give him time to make up his own mind and then…”

“Accept it?” Eliott finishes. Idriss purses his lips. They both know the answer. If Lucas chooses to move on – to never speak to Eliott again – there’s nothing to do but accept it, to respect Lucas’s decision, and to live with the fact that Eliott ruined what was possibly the best thing in his life.

Movement out of the corner of Eliott’s eye distracts him from his dark ruminating and he turns to see Bas and Arthur approaching. Eliott barely has time to register surprise before the two are stuttering in front of them, eyes swinging between Idriss and himself.

“We know what happened,” Arthur says first, his words rushed and shaped by anxiety.

“Not like –” Basile interjects, looking even more nervous than Arthur. “Lucas didn’t tell us. I mean, I was there. At the party.” He suddenly breaks into a wide smile. “Did you see Daphne punch him? God, that was amazing.”

“Bas, the point,” Arthur cuts off what was likely to be a soliloquy on Daphne’s various virtues.

“Oh right.” Basile’s expression drops, and he stares at Eliott imploringly. “I’m really sorry – like, that all this happened.”

“We know you really like him,” Arthur adds.

“He really likes you too.” Bas nods hurriedly, looking at Eliott like this will be news. But it’s not. Eliott knows how much Lucas liked him – that’s what made the betrayal that much worse. Lucas liking Eliott so much is why he now hates him.

“He does,” Arthur agrees. “He’s pissed but he’s never been into anyone the way he’s into you.” Each word cuts a little deeper, though the two boys seem oblivious of that.

“He’ll get over it though,” Basile says and Eliott wants to laugh at the juvenile way they’re both approaching the situation, like Eliott had done no more than choose not to sit with Lucas at the lunch table. He might have said as much if it weren’t for Arthur’s next words.

“We’re going to tell him.”

Eliott’s mouth parts with surprise, words caught in his throat.

“Tell him what?” Idriss asks in Eliott’s silence.

Arthur and Basile look to him nervously for a moment.

“We kind of…” Basile begins.

“We wanted Lucas to date someone,” Arthur continues.

“And Charles is a dick.” Basile frowns with exaggerated disdain.

“Total dick.”

“And he wanted Daphne!”

“And Daphne couldn’t date unless Lucas was –”

“Wait,” Idriss cuts them off, and despite the incomprehensible way Basile and Arthur have gone about explaining themselves, he seems to have grasped the gist of what they are trying to say. “You two were behind the whole thing? Eliott? Charles? All of it?” Eliott had never shared that part of the story with Idriss. It had seemed irrelevant at the time, what with Charles being the one providing payment.

Basile and Arthur’s faces scrunch in nearly identical expressions of shame.

“Kind of.”

“I guess.”

“Shit,” Idriss breathes and Eliott knows everything he’s thinking, all the ways he’s recognizing Lucas has been betrayed by the people closest to him.

“If you tell him,” Eliott interjects, finding his voice though its sounds like it’s been scraped raw by sandpaper. He looks up as the two boys’ eyes swing back to him. “If you tell him,” He repeats, “it’ll –” He exhales a heavy breath. “He shouldn’t have to hate you too.” Bad enough Lucas was betrayed by Eliott, the boy he liked, the boy he was sleeping with… Eliott doesn’t want to imagine how magnified Lucas’s pain if he found out two of his best friends were not only aware of the situation but had taken part in orchestrating it. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

There’s silence for a moment. His words sit between them. When Arthur speaks it’s with more gravity, and a maturity Eliott doesn’t expect.

“It was fucked up. Everything we did. We don’t want to hurt him more, but he deserves to know. We have to tell him.”

“He’s our best friend,” Basile continues, pain and guilt sharing equal space on his features. “We can’t lie to him about it.”

“But…” Eliott’s voice is frail, but he forces the words out, “what if he doesn’t forgive you?”

Arthur makes a face, like the question is absurd. “He’ll be pissed but it’ll be fine.” Eliott isn’t sure how Arthur can sound so blasé… so confident. He supposes the two have the benefit of years of friendship with Lucas to contextualize their error – to give it well-meant if misguided reasoning, when Eliott had none.

“And he’ll forgive you!” Basile chips in, eyes wide with an eager sort of insistence.

Eliott’s heart skips a beat. He refuses to label the accompanying feeling hope. “No, he –” Eliott swallows heavily. “He hates me.”

Arthur scoffs. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just…” He trails off, mouth twisting. Eliott hates that he’s hanging on every word, hates that even after everything, he wants to believe what Arthur says, wants to believe the words of two people who betrayed Lucas right alongside him.

“Lucas,” Basile finishes for Arthur with a shrug. The two boys nod in agreement.

“And he doesn’t understand,” Arthur adds. “We’ll explain and… it’ll be better. You’ll see.”

Eliott sighs, the kindling hope he’d been trying desperately to ignore, fizzling out as he stares at the keen faces before him – keen and naïve. They don’t know what was between Lucas and Eliott. They don’t understand the intensity, the feeling that made Eliott’s betrayal that much worse – that made it unforgivable.

“Yeah, well… good luck.”

“Don’t sweat it, bro. Really.” Arthur takes a step forward to pat Eliott consolingly on the shoulder, with Basile mirroring the move clumsily.

Idriss speaks as the two boys retreat into the distance.

“That’s hopeful, yeah?”

There’s that word again. Hope. Eliott wants to cling to it desperately, but he knows – has known and lived it – hope makes accepting reality that much more painful.

“Yeah…” He doesn’t share the thought with Idriss. He knows what his best friend would say. Idriss might put up a good front but he’s a gentle soul at heart and he wants to believe – does believe in the best in people. “Maybe.”

* * * *

* * * *

The week drags by in a painfully normal way. Everything remains just as it was. It grates on Eliott more than it should. It’s not fair to want the world to reflect his own misery, but he finds himself resentful of the happiness of those around him, oblivious and carefree as they go about their daily lives while Eliott’s own is irreparably changed… damaged.

He glares at the canvas before him. He only has a few minutes before everyone else arrives and the work-in-progress critique will begin and he’s no closer to explaining the mess his piece has become. He has to admit, there’s something spontaneous and maybe even interesting about his most recent application of colour, but he’s not sure he could justify the frenzied, abstract quality of the at one time, representational piece without admitting, ‘I was devastated, the paint was there.’ Eliott’s pretty sure that won’t result in a passing grade.

He tosses his paintbrush carelessly to the palette set on a stool beside his easel with an aggravated sigh, when a soft sound has him instinctually turning to a sight he hadn’t allowed himself to even hope to see.

Lucas stands, swathed in a large sweater, too warm for the weather outside, the sleeves falling down over his hands which he folds across his chest in a protective posture, his eyes on Eliott’s canvas.

“Lucas –” Eliott chokes out, taking a step towards him before thinking better of it and freezing in place. He doesn’t know what to say. Too many words clog his throat, too few of them the right words.

“What is it?” Lucas asks softly, eyes still fixed on Eliott’s painting.

Eliott stares at him in surprise, head swinging between his painting and Lucas. “I –” He has to clear his throat for his voice to find proper sound. “I’m not sure. A feeling maybe.”

“What feeling?” Lucas’s eyes drop to the floor as he waits for an answer. Eliott can understand his avoidance of eye contact but it’s torturous. He silently swears to himself that if the day comes that Lucas focuses those eyes back on him – only him – he’ll never look away.

Eliott exhales, looking back to the paint smeared across his canvas. “If I knew, maybe I’d pass this class.” He swallows heavily. “I think it’s a mess because I’m a mess.” He looks back to Lucas, focusing on the way Lucas’s unstyled hair has partially fallen over his face with his drooped posture. His hand twitches with the desire to brush fingers through the soft strands, to cup Lucas’s face between his hands, to promise him anything – everything. “Lucas,” he begins, voice shaky, “I know – I know you hate me but –” His words cut off as Lucas looks up, wide blue eyes glistening with unspoken emotion.

“I do hate you,” he says, and it’s only the lack of venom in his voice that stops Eliott’s heart from plummeting to the concrete floor beneath them. Lucas inhales, not looking away now. Eliott won’t look away either, no matter what Lucas says next. He promised. “I hate you for talking to me that day. I hate that I thought you were hot. I hate that you were so confident and cocky and – and I hate that I wanted you.” The words rush out of Lucas, spilling from his lips in a jumble of sound and frustration before he’s forced to take a steadying inhale. Something settles in his eyes as he looks at Eliott, the former frenzy of his words replaced with a calm frankness. “I hate your stupid eyes.” His voice is softer now. It sounds nothing like an insult. “I hate the way you look at me.” Another unsteady breath. “I hate your stupid hands and – and the way you touch me.” Eliott feels the words through his entire body. He aches with the need to reach out, to touch in the way they both long for. But he won’t. He won’t because Lucas couldn’t bear it, doesn’t want it. Eliott knows that too. “I hate the way you know me – the way you read my mind,” Lucas continues. “I hate the way you make me laugh. And I really hate how happy you make me.” A tear tumbles down to Lucas’s cheek, his eyes shining with those unshed. His voice shakes with emotion he can’t contain any longer. “I hate that you lied.” Eliott breathes through the pain. Being faced with Lucas’s tears is so much worse than being the focus of his anger. Eliott will accept both. It’s the very least he deserves. “I hate that you listened to me and – and you stopped trying.” Eliott’s breath catches in his throat. More tears spill down to Lucas’s cheeks. Eliott only wants to hold him, to brush them away with the pads of his thumbs, to press kisses to Lucas’s face and taste their salty tracks. “Mostly I hate that I don’t hate you. I hate that I only want you to touch me again and tell me it’ll be ok.” It takes everything in Eliott not to do just that the second the words spill from Lucas’s lips. It’s not wanted. Lucas’s entire posture screams that it’s not wanted, even as his words contradict him. “I hate that I can’t hate you. I couldn’t ever. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.” Lucas can barely get the words out now, his breathing affected by the way he cries, voice choked with emotion. “I hate that I think I’m falling in love with you.” Eliott’s heart seizes in his chest. Words rush to the surface of his tongue, but Lucas isn’t done. “I hate that I don’t care about the rest as long as… as long as you want me too.”

I do. Eliott wants to shout. I’ve never stopped wanting you. And he would. He would if it weren’t for the sudden influx of noise around them. Students entering the studio and bursting the bubble they’ve made themselves, too fragile to last long.

Lucas moves the long sleeves of his sweater up to his face, wiping roughly at his eyes and the wetness spread over his cheeks. His eyes drop too, and it spurs Eliott into action. He moves closer to Lucas, all too aware of the students now bustling around them, throwing curious glances their direction.

He opens his mouth to speak, taking another step closer, but no words find voice. Lucas looks back up and the sight is like a hand closing around Eliott’s throat.

Don’t.

Lucas is silently screaming it, his eyes pained and fixed on Eliott, his body held in frozen tension, one second from flight. He’s broken himself open and spilled his insides, his most private thoughts and feelings. The risk in doing so, the vulnerability and bravery, has left him terrified – of his own words… of what Eliott might say in response… of so many possibilities – so much unknown. It’s a fear Lucas refuses to face. Not now. With a shuddering inhale and one last lingering look, Lucas turns, fighting his way through the influx of students as he escapes the studio. And Eliott… doesn’t know what to do.

Everything in him tells him to follow Lucas. To match Lucas’s vulnerability and honesty with his own. But a much stronger pull holds him back. Lucas doesn’t want it. Eliott’s offered the words already. Lucas knows. Words aren’t enough when it’s Eliott’s actions that betrayed Lucas; When it was his actions that made his words meaningless. He needs more.

Action. That word. He needs to show Lucas how he feels. Demonstrate it.

It had worked once. When Eliott had offered to get a tattoo of Lucas’s choosing.

A steady calmness seeps into Eliott’s bones as he makes a decision.

It can work again.

It has to.

* * * *

* * * *

Manon eyes Eliott skeptically from where she sits with Idriss on their couch, legs draped possessively over his lap. She’s been more reserved – more hesitant – around Eliott than she had before – before everything. Eliott’s grateful she’s willing to talk to him at all and he’s sure he has Idriss to thank for that. More than anything, Eliott’s relieved to see the couple are very obviously on much better terms.  

“This seems like… a lot.”

Idriss makes a sound, one part amused, the other part totally baffled.

“That’s one way to say it.”

“I need to do something,” Eliott justifies.

“Not this!” Idriss objects with a scoff. “This is permanent, Eli. There’s no changing it.”

“That’s the point.”

Manon’s hand settles on Idriss’s chest and it’s a little startling to see how quickly it pulls Idriss back from what was likely going to be a physical telling off, when the verbal clearly wasn’t working. Eliott would have bet on a smack upside the head. She looks back to Eliott.

“You don’t need to do this. Lucas will come around. He likes you. A lot.”

It’s comforting to hear but not exactly necessary. Eliott knows he does. He had known, even before Lucas had declared as much in the studio while simultaneously claiming to hate him… and not hate him.

God. Eliott likes him so fucking much.

“I know I don’t,” Eliott admits. “I want to do this.” It’s an important distinction. He looks at the couple on the couch, doing his best to express just how confident he is in the decision he’s making. He doesn’t blame Idriss for questioning what no doubt appears to be a reckless, impulsive decision. It would hardly be the first time Eliott’s impulses have led him to less than positive choices. But this is different. Eliott isn’t being impulsive. “He’s… it.” A little lacking, and not at all an adequate representation of the depth of Eliott’s feelings for Lucas, but true all the same. “I want him to know.”

Idriss makes a strangled sound and Eliott can’t tell if it’s representative of him giving in or giving up, but it makes Manon laugh. She looks back to Eliott with sparkling eyes after pressing a kiss to Idriss’s cheek, somewhat placating Eliott’s friend.

“I’m glad he chose you,” she says, her smile gentling. There is a familiar kindness on her face, though not one he’s seen since before his deal with Charles had been revealed. “He deserves someone who loves him this much.”

Eliott inhales a shuddering breath, the words reverberating through his body with an echoing strength he’s become accustomed to. It’s no longer a surprise, the way their friends speak of his and Lucas’s relationship as though the love is a given… as obvious as it was inevitable. But there’s something incredible in hearing the words spoken out loud, like a promise – one he gets to make to Lucas. And he intends to.

“I’m gonna do it right this time,” Eliott promises, embarrassingly earnest.

Idriss rolls his eyes, but it’s done with affection he can’t hide. Eliott knows him too well.

“Alright,” he says with an aggrieved sigh. “Go get him back or whatever. I approve.”

Eliott can’t help but retort, “Thanks. Was waiting on that.” Idriss looks like he’d throw something at Eliott’s face if it weren’t for the way his arms are preoccupied wrapped around Manon.

“It’ll be ok,” Manon offers, apparently attuned to the way nerves are keeping Eliott rooted to the spot. She nods at him encouragingly. “Just trust it.”

Eliott swallows, scrutinizing her curiously. “Trust what?”

She glances at Idriss for a brief second and the two share an affectionate look before she answers. “This thing between you. Trust it and he will too.”

It sounds achievable. It’s what he needs to get his feet moving. Trust it. Trust Lucas. Trust how they feel. Eliott can do that.

* * * *

* * * *

Eliott stands anxiously outside the building from which Lucas will exit class with a fierce feeling of déjà vu. He had waffled on whether to wait directly outside the lecture hall but decided that might too closely resemble cornering Lucas. And while Eliott is feeling optimistic about receiving a more receptive welcome than the last time he’d surprise ambushed Lucas, he wants to give himself the best possible opportunity for success. He wants to do it right.

He wipes sweaty palms against his pant legs as students begin exiting the building, his eyes scanning the crowd for Lucas. Eliott spots him just as he’s beginning to wonder if Lucas had attended at all. Eliott’s breath catches as he watches him. Lucas is looking down at his phone, walking alone, feet dragging as he exits the building. He brings a hand up to his hair, ruffling through the unruly strands making them stand up in even more chaotic directions – styled but unstyled. He’s wearing a t-shirt beneath his jacket that’s a little too small, riding up and revealing a slice of his stomach as he rakes his hand through his hair. And the sight of him, beautiful and so fucking sexy without even trying, is doing nothing to calm the rate of Eliott’s heart.

He waits until Lucas is within a few meters, still distracted by his phone, before he steps out and into the other boy’s path. Lucas looks up and immediately freezes, his mouth parting with surprise. He doesn’t look angry to see Eliott, and that is at least a start.

“Hi, um, could we talk?” Eliott holds his breath as Lucas studies him for a moment, until he finally nods, remaining silent. He crosses his arms against his chest protectively. He looks small and uncertain, and all Eliott wants in the world is to pull him into his chest, to press his face into Lucas’s hair, to breathe him in and never let go… to never hurt him again. He knows no matter the outcome of this conversation, it’s an unlikely version of their future. A future together means inevitable screw ups. Eliott knows himself well enough to know that. But he can try, and he can promise Lucas that. He wants to promise Lucas that. If Lucas will allow it. “So…” He inhales, dropping his eyes as he tries to organize his thoughts, “what you said… I wanted to –” His words cut off as Lucas steps into his space, reaching for his arm, where Eliott hadn’t realized he’d been nervously tugging at the plastic taped to his forearm. Eliott watches Lucas’s fingers against his skin before he returns his attention to Lucas’s face, focusing on where the other boy’s eyebrows have drawn together, a wrinkle appearing between them. Bastien had used an opaque black plastic, and nothing can be seen through it. Even so, Lucas stares for another extended beat before he meets Eliott’s eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t tattoo my name on your arm.”

Eliott is startled into a laugh, a surprised exhalation of amusement. Even more staggering than the comment, is the dry humour infusing Lucas’s voice. Eliott takes stock of the other boy’s face, just to be sure he’s not hallucinating the slight upwards curve of Lucas’s lips, but there’s a smile present in his eyes as well. The sight has warmth immediately spreading through Eliott’s chest, tense muscles relaxing, and hope – unbearable, optimistic hope – lacing his words as he speaks.

“I was going to get to that,” he admits, offering a crooked smile.

Lucas’s subtle amusement grows more serious. “You didn’t, did you?”

Eliott huffs, letting his smile grow just slightly. “No.” He waits for Lucas’s expression to relax before he adds, “Thought about it.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, looking away, but Eliott doesn’t think he’s imagining the newly pink tint to the apples of his cheeks. “Why?”

Caught up in the way the flush of Lucas’s cheeks extents just a little down his neck, it takes Eliott a moment to register the question. “What?” His brain slowly catches up and he answers before Lucas has the chance to clarify. “Never been into name tattoos myself. Little too cringe for me.” He stares at Lucas, his next words a little too sincere to be entirely teasing. “Might have made an exception for you though…”

Lucas rolls his eyes, exhaling a sigh that is more exasperated than fond. “Why’d you get a tattoo?” He asks instead, the look on his face saying that he just might already know.

“I…” Eliott blows out a breath. The unexpectedly light-hearted quality of their conversation had briefly lulled him into a calmer state, as though the hardest part of what he’d come to do had already been achieved, but his nerves return with a vengeance now. “I wanted to do something. For you.”

“You thought a tattoo would win me over?” He’s projecting a forced casualness to his tone, a transparent need to avoid the vast depth of emotion threatening to overwhelm them both. “And it’s not even my name…” Eliott can’t find humour in the words any longer. This beautiful boy in front of him, doing his absolute best to put on a brave face, bracing himself with humour as though he expects to get hurt again and it’s his last defence, deserves nothing but sincerity – deserves everything Eliott can give.  

“What you said, Lucas…”

Lucas’s face drops and he hurries to say, “You don’t have to –” Eliott doesn’t allow him to finish the thought. He won’t allow Lucas to feel shame about this, not when those words had meant so much to Eliott. Everything to him.

“Please, just…” He blows out a breath, taking a step closer and risks reaching out to gently brush their fingers together, “let me say this.”

Lucas swallows, but he doesn’t move away. “Ok.” His hand turns until he’s linking their pinkies together in a gentle hold. It’s more than Eliott could have hoped for. He focuses on the gentle touch as he exhales shakily and continues.  

“You have every reason to hate me.” Lucas’s hold tightens. “All those things you said, all those ways you do…” Eliott holds Lucas’s gaze, trying to impart everything his ineloquence can’t. “Lucas, for all the ways you hate me, I like you just as much.” His throat is clogged with emotion, and it takes effort to press out the words, desperate as he is for Lucas to understand. “I could list a million things.” He could and he will. The time for holding back is long past. He owes Lucas so much more than unspoken words. “I love the way you look when you wear sweaters that are too big for you.” Lucas’s tips his face down. Shy. “The way you blush when you’re pleased by something I’ve said – when you’re flattered.” Eliott smiles just a little as he spots that very blush. But Lucas still refuses to look up. “The way you’re so fucking stubborn I know I’m going to lose every argument to you no matter how stupid.” The corners of Lucas’s lips lift just slightly and Eliott is almost bowled over by the rush of endorphins the sight brings. “The way you laugh – and the way you look when you do. The way nothing makes you happier than giving me shit – the way that makes you laugh harder than anything.” Lucas’s eyes return to him, the affection in them mixed with a familiar glint of mischief, his way of silently acknowledging the truth of the words. Eliott swallows, drinking in every detail of Lucas’s face. “The way you touch me – like you’re unsure and sure at the same time.” It’s one of Eliott’s favourite things, Lucas’s endless contradictions. “The way you let me touch you – that you trust me to.” A series of images and sounds instantly bombard him and he wonders if the hitch in Lucas’s breath means he’s experiencing the same. “The sounds you make when I do.” He sees Lucas swallow, eyes fixed on Eliott, hypnotized by every word. Eliott doesn’t know how he ever got lucky enough to have a boy like this look at him like that. “The way you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He stops, staring at the beautiful boy in front of him. Words will never be enough. “But none of it matters if you don’t believe it.” And that’s the clincher. They have to be in it together. From here on out.   

Lucas blinks slowly. He hasn’t unlinked their pinkies and that fact alone gives Eliott more hope than he can bear for long without giving in to the building urge to kiss Lucas and never stop. “And the tattoo?” Lucas asks, his free hand moving to where tape holds down one edge of the impenetrable plastic wrap. He darts eyes back up and when Eliott makes no move to stop him, he begins carefully peeling the tape from the plastic.

Eliott watches him, raising his arm enough to make the process easier. “Um… well, I had some extra money lying around…” He holds his breath, wondering if the mention will be too much, will set them back once more. But it’s not a truth Eliott wants to avoid any longer. He only breathes when Lucas’s eyes flick back up to him for a split second, and there’s a spark of dry humour in them, maybe even warmth.

“Yeah?” He finishes peeling the plastic off Eliott’s arm, his eyes focused on the tattoo it reveals.

“Yes. Some asshole paid me to take out this really amazing guy.”

Lucas looks back up. “Sounds like a dick move.” He’s still cradling Eliott’s forearm in one hand.

“It was,” Eliott says with a shuddering exhale. They’re standing incredibly close now and Lucas has made no move to back away or release his hold, one pinky still linked to Eliott’s. “I screwed up though.”

Lucas bites his lip, looking nervous but hopeful too. “You did?”

“I fell for him,” Eliott says simply. It’s the truth. The easiest thing in the world to admit. “It’s not every day you find a guy who convinces you to tattoo, ‘I have a small wiener’ on your arm for a first date,” he adds with a small grin that’s returned by Lucas. They stare at one another for a moment with gentle smiles. Eliott turns his hand in Lucas’s until he can properly link all their fingers together, heartened by the way Lucas allows it. “You can hate me as long as you need, but I’m falling in love with you.” No fear accompanies the declaration. Instead, all Eliott feels is relief. It feels like sharing a secret you’ve been holding onto for far too long with the only person in the world you want to know it. “Will you let me?”

Lucas drops his eyes back to Eliott’s arm. His cheeks are practically glowing with the heat that’s settled in them. “Sit by my side, and let the world slip.” He recites the words written on Eliott’s skin before looking back up. “What does it mean?”

Eliott allows for the redirection. His tattoo is not a topic far removed from his affection for Lucas, after all. Just the opposite, in fact. And he has a sneaking suspicion that is why Lucas has asked. “Shakespeare,” he explains, turning his arm slightly as they both inspect the details of the tattoo. “Taming of the Shrew.” Silence rests between them as Eliott considers how to explain. “Life is short.” It’s an approximate summary, if over-simplified. He looks back to Lucas’s face. “To not take things for granted. Especially the little things – the details.”  

“Shrew?” Lucas’s eyebrow arches as he looks up. He doesn’t look impressed.

Eliott exhales a slight laugh and nods. “It’s a pretty messed up play, to be honest.”

Lucas’s eyebrows pull together. “Why’d you quote it?”

Eliott stares down at his freshly tattooed skin. “I like the words. I like the reminder. And…” He licks his lips, squeezing Lucas’s hand tightly in his own as he works out how best to explain the rest. He needs Lucas to understand. It feels more vital than anything else. “It’s a messed up story, but there are all these adaptations that came from it. Like in the original story she’s broken down and tamed. She’s changed. Because he never wanted her as she was – willful and disobedient.” Lucas makes a face. “Yeah,” Eliott acknowledges with a chuckle. “But in the adaptations, writers took the story and created something different from it - something beautiful. I always liked that.” He takes stock of the look on Lucas’s face, open, curious, and maybe even beginning to truly understand Eliott’s intent. “That even if you didn’t get it right the first time, there’s a chance to create something new, something better. Without destroying the story that came before it. Even if it was a screw up.”

Lucas’s lips quirk into a slight smile, the quality of it teasing. “You saying Shakespeare screwed up?” One of his eyebrows jumps. “Takes some balls.”  

Eliott accepts that with a breath of soft laughter. “He lived in a different time.” A shrug. “And it was a comedy. He was trying to create an entertaining story.”

“The other stories though… the one’s that came after…” Lucas’s eyes are gentle and glossy with undisguised hope. “They were different?”

“Not totally but…” He unlinks their fingers and brings a shaky hand up to Lucas’s face, cupping his cheek and brushing a thumb along the heated skin. “They became stories where she couldn’t be tamed. He never wanted her to be. I always liked that more.”

Lucas smiles, small but with obvious, unfiltered joy. Eliott’s breath catches at the sight of it. “Yeah?”

Eliott nods, his own smile growing as hope and happiness mix, infusing his blood. “He loved her as she was – telling him off every time he was an idiot. And maybe sometimes beyond then.”

Lucas’s smile grows to a proper grin, and he moves his now free hand to tug at Eliott’s shirt. “He probably deserved it.”

Eliott exhales a quick laugh. He can’t argue with that. “Probably.”

Lucas tips his chin down towards the tattoo. “And the flowers?” Eliott had Bastien design two flowers that border the words, appearing as though they’re growing from them and meeting in the middle, leaves, thorns, and stems wrapping around one another until they appear to be as one. Neither is immediately identifiable as a singular type of flower, both an odd blend of many that somehow works. They root the words, giving them purpose and belonging.

Eliott examines the tattoo, watching as Lucas moves a finger against his skin, tracing around the forms delicately “I never liked them before – before you,” he admits.  

“Flowers?” Lucas asks curiously, attention flicking back to Eliott’s face.

“Tattoos of them,” Eliott clarifies.

Lucas’s nose scrunches. Eliott wants to kiss him there. “So why’d you get it?”

“I guess… I see things differently now.” He moves the hand on Lucas’s face back into his hair, raking fingers through the silky strands. “That day you got your own… it was so beautiful. I’d never thought that before. Not until you.”

Lucas’s smile presses deeply into his cheeks. “That’s because you’re easy for me.” It's a statement he's said countless times before in the short time they've known one another, always with a confidence that masked an undercurrent of insecurity, as though if he believed if he said the words over and over again, one day they would be true. 

But they'd been true from the beginning and Eliott won’t deny it. He never could. “Yes.” He tugs a little at Lucas’s hair, watching the way it causes the other boy’s eyes to flutter. “Always was.”

Lucas’s gaze flicks between the tattoo and Eliott’s face, one eyebrow arching. “So, you just stole my tattoo idea and figured I’d forgive you?” He’s teasing, and it’s with no small measure of awe that Eliott realizes… Lucas already has.

“Maybe.” He exhales heavily, tipping forward until their foreheads press together. He feels Lucas’s breath against his lips, both of his hands moving to cling to the front of Eliott’s shirt. “Something like that.”

“It’s pretty permanent,” Lucas whispers, eyes closing as the tips of their noses brush together in a soft nuzzle.  

“I wanted it to be,” Eliott says, moving both hands to cup the sides of Lucas’s neck, thumbs pressing to the underside of his jaw. And then, with entirely different gravity, he repeats, “I want it to be.” He hopes Lucas understands just how much he means the words, just how much imagining a future has, for him, meant being with Lucas. “Better than your name?”

“Maybe.” Lucas smiles and Eliott is just thinking about taking the chance and finally dipping in to press their mouths together in a gentle kiss when Lucas is pushing him back, not separating them by much but enough to make the prospect of a kiss more challenging. “You can’t just tattoo your arm every time you screw up, you know.” He’s trying to look stern and it’s as adorable as it is unconvincing.

“I know.” Eliott bites his lower lip around a grin. “But then there’s my chest, my ass… was thinking about a neck tattoo.”

Lucas huffs with a smile, shoving Eliott in the stomach before pulling him close once more. “Idiot.” He’s looking up at Eliott with slow blinks, lips parted and begging to be kissed. And while there’s nothing Eliott wants more than to give into the unspoken request, there’s one more thing he needs to say first.

“Hey,” Eliott whispers, bringing one hand back to Lucas’s face, “I want you too.”

The question is clear in Lucas’s eyes, but he speaks it out loud just the same, “What?”

Eliott smiles, brushing his thumb along Lucas’s eyebrow and down across his cheekbone. “You said – in the studio – you said as long as I want you too.” Eliott’s shoulders bounce in a partial shrug. “I want you too.”

“God,” Lucas hiccups a giggle, dropping his head forward until he can butt his forehead into Eliott’s chest. “I kinda figured that out.”

Eliott chuckles, dropping both hands to pet Lucas’s hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lucas tips his head back. He’s grinning, bright and happy. “You’re kind of obvious.”

“You’re kind of worth it.” Eliott says the words a little like he might an affirmation of love. And maybe it is, of its own kind. Lucas seems to understand this, his expression sobering into something cautious, but earnest.

“Are we doing this?” His voice wavers a little with nerves, and it boggles Eliott’s mind that Lucas could still have doubts. Though… maybe it shouldn’t. It will take more than one conversation to repair the damage done. “For real this time?”

“I want to,” Eliott quickly assures. “So much Lucas.” It's all he's ever needed. The time to make it right. The time to make Lucas happy. 

Lucas’s smile is small but he’s wiggling just slightly with barely contained happiness. “Me too.”

“Yeah?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Eliott grins, dropping his arms to the top of Lucas’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “It was that tattoo that did it, wasn’t it?”

Lucas scoffs, his own arms coming to wrap around Eliott’s back. “Can’t believe Bastien let you do that. Did you tell him why?”

“That it was for you?” Eliott questions. “Yeah. He’s rooting for us.”

Lucas’s eyes drop to rest somewhere on Eliott’s chest, and he shifts a little on his feet. “Even though it means he doesn’t get to hook up with you ever again?” Eliott can read between the lines, a happy heat taking residence in his chest as he recognizes the assurance Lucas is seeking.

“Ever again, hunh?” He teases gently. “You saying you’re locking me down for life?” It’s hard to repress his own blatant happiness at the thought and Lucas recognizes as much.

“You saying that doesn’t do it for you?” He looks back up, a playful curve to his lips.

Eliott’s smile gentles, his words sincere, “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

“Good.” Lucas means to sound stern – sure of himself even – but there’s a thread of relief that comes through. He moves one hand to poke Eliott in the stomach. “And no tattooing my name on your ass. No matter how much you screw up.”

Eliott makes a put-on noise of complaint. “So sure I’ll screw up?” Lucas doesn’t need to answer, a simple look being enough. Eliott chuckles. “Ok.” He grins. “No tattoos then.”

“Don’t say that.”

He’d been awfully quick with that response. One of Eliott’s eyebrows rises. “Like ‘em, do you?”

Lucas shrugs, sweet and bashful. “They’re ok. You still owe me one.”

“Hmm?” Eliott brings a thumb to Lucas’s lower lip, brushing over the swell.

“‘I have a small wiener’ would look really good on your other forearm. Help balance everything out.”

Eliott exhales a laugh, gaze rising from Lucas’s lips to meet his eyes. “Well, that would just be false advertising,” he challenges. “Irresponsible of you, really.”

“Eliott?”

“Mmm?”

Lucas’s gaze flicks between Eliott’s eyes and mouth. “Are you gonna kiss me now or do I hav-”

Eliott kisses him. It feels as though he’s been waiting years, and yet there’s nothing unfamiliar about the press of their mouths. It’s like slotting back into place, like pieces of himself he’d thought were hopelessly lost have instead found a home, imperfect but safe. He wraps his arms tightly around Lucas’s neck, pulling him as close as he’s able without separating their mouths. Lucas is soft and pliable in his arms, clinging as he allows Eliott control of the kiss. Nothing feels better than kissing Lucas. He’ll never stop appreciating how lucky he is to get to do so, Eliott silently pledges to himself, squeezing Lucas closer. Never.

“Eliott,” Lucas gasps, breaking their kiss only for a moment before Eliott’s lips are back on him. “Eliott!” He tries again with a giggle of delighted laughter that captures Eliott’s attention, forcing him to pause if only to trace the curve of Lucas’s lips with his thumb. “You trying to eat me?”

Eliott grins, unapologetic. “Maybe.” He pecks Lucas lightly on the lips. “A little.”

One of Lucas’s hands moves to caress Eliott’s face, and the tender quality of the gesture surprises him into stillness. “One step at a time, ok?” Lucas says gently. Eliott should have expected Lucas would recognize the fear behind Eliott’s frenzy, the need to clutch and hold Lucas as closely as possible, to never let go, for fear that he wouldn’t survive the loss a second time. “We take it slow.” Eliott breathes a little easier, turning his face to gently nuzzle into Lucas’s hand. “We have time.” And what a gift it is to recognize as much.

“Yeah.” Eliott let’s the truth of the words fill him with warmth. “We have time.”

* * * *

Notes:

Apologies in advance for this being a longer end note but for some reason I have all sort of things to say!

First, I just want to thank all of you for such amazingly thoughtful messages and comments. It makes the entire process of me writing and posting so enjoyable, you have no idea. I truly have the best readers in the world. And with that said, I hope the way this chapter went was satisfying. I wanted to find a balance between actually fixing things, and doing so in a way that was true to the characters and didn't come across like a writer ticking boxes off a list - i.e. a perfect resolution topped with a bow. There are still things to be said and discussed between Eliott and Lucas, but this was to serve as essentially the beginning - i.e. them getting a chance to do so.

Ok now to some fun stuff. There are a lot of different references throughout this chapter that round up references I've been making throughout the story so far. I'm not sure if anyone cares about these details, because I definitely don't expect readers to pick up on all of them but in case you're interested or want more context as to my weird-ass thought process, here:

- There are plenty of Salvador Dali references throughout chapters. This chapter is no exception but the references shift slightly. Whereas in previous chapters there was a foreboding warning that came with them - that time was running out, that Eliott couldn't stop the inevitable, etc - in this chapter time takes on new meaning. Eliott's last IG story is of course 'Persistence of Memory' by Dali and here time is reshaped and given new meaning. No longer fixed, the clocks bend and melt, making us reconsider their meaning - and the concept of time in general. I could go on for quite a while about these ideas but I think that description is enough to understand my intent in having Eliott post it.

- Additionally, Eliott quotes Dali (as he's done before) a couple of times. The first quote is the 'It is mostly with your blood that I paint my pictures'. The exact quote was from Dali to his wife (who he loved dearly) and is: "It is mostly with your blood, Gala that I paint my pictures.” In Dali's case, this was a romantic statement (context: Dali was a delightful weirdo 😆). In Eliott's case, it is a romantic statement but the reference to blood is meant to allude to blood shed (i.e. Lucas's emotional blood shed).

- The second time Eliott quotes Dali is at the end - the satisfaction quote. That speaks for itself.

- The other thing I've been referencing throughout the story is Shakespeare and specifically Taming of the Shrew. The t-shirt Lucas tells Eliott to buy him is a quote from the play (just suits Lucas). And on the picture of the written play that Eliott posts he's written 'we shall ne'er be younger'. This is how the quote he tattoos finishes: "Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger." I don't think I need to add to what that means as Eliott explains in a basic way, but I will say that him posting that before getting the tattoo is his way of saying 'life is short' and it's now or never.

Ok wheewwwww I think that is all the references I wanted to mention but feel free to ask if anything is unclear or I did something else weird I haven't explained.

I am back at work so hopefully that means my productivity will be forced to return as well and I'll have the motivation to get editing the next chapter! Will post as soon as I can.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Just a shorty here for you. I managed to get it done over the last couple of days so maybe my productivity has returned. Enjoy!

* * * *

Eliott bursts into an immediate smile as soon as he spots Lucas and might have broken into a jog if it weren’t for Idriss gripping his arm at his side.

Eliott turns to give him a look. “What?”

Idriss rolls his eyes. “What happened to you wanting to play it cool? You look like you’re thinking about getting on one knee the second you reach him.” He tilts his head, raising one eyebrow in suggestion. “Maybe two.”

Eliott grins. “No point in playing it cool now. He likes me like this.”

Idriss makes a pained sound but he’s smiling, and Eliott knows how happy his best friend is for him. “Tell me again how shooting one another with paintballs is a good idea when you just got back together?”

Eliott shrugs, watching as Lucas greets his friends in the distance. “Wasn’t my idea. I just want to be with him.”

“Be with him surrounded by other people while being shot with paintballs?” Idriss questions and Eliott can’t blame him for his skepticism. “Wouldn’t have figured that was a top choice.”

Eliott acknowledges that with a chuckle. “We’re taking it slow and –” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his thought before Idriss’s laughter is interrupting him. “What?”

Idriss tips his chin in Lucas’s direction, speaking as they approach the group of boys. “You mean to tell me, you think you’re gonna be able to keep it in your pants? With him?”

Eliott follows Idriss’s line of sight back to where Lucas throws his head back with a laugh as Yann speaks next to him. He swallows heavily. “You say that like I have no self control.”

Lucas turns, noticing their arrival and his face splits into a wide smile. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. He hears Idriss chuckle at his side, his hand landing on Eliott’s shoulder with a squeeze.

“I don’t think you ever stood a chance.”

Lucas’s cheeks flush as they get closer and Eliott doesn’t bother with any preamble, moving directly into the other boy’s space, hands immediately gripping tightly to his hips.

“Hi.” He wants to kiss Lucas. He badly wants to kiss Lucas, but it feels like a choice he should let Lucas make.

Lucas bites his lower lip around a smile, and it does nothing for Eliott’s self control. “Hi.” His hands move to Eliott’s chest, clinging to the soft cotton of the t-shirt, and a shiver rushes through Eliott’s body at the simple touch. They do more than stare at one another, taking in every detail of one another’s faces as though it was the first time they’d been given opportunity to do so. In some ways, it feels like it is – like beginning anew. It’s been almost two weeks since they made up, but Eliott imagines the novelty of being with Lucas – properly being with Lucas, isn’t going to wear off any time soon.

Lucas’s eyes flick to Eliott’s lips, and Eliott’s grip tightens on his hips. God. Lucas shouldn’t be allowed to look at him like that – flushed pink cheeks, bottom lip shiny with saliva, the glint in his big blue eyes saying he knows exactly what Eliott is thinking.

“Uh, yeah, hi,” says a voice from beside them. Arthur, Eliott thinks. “So nice to see you too. How am I? Oh, I’m grand. A little tired, but happy to be here. And you Bas?”

“Well, I’m grand too,” Bas answers, his voice dripping with mockery. “So kind of you to ask.”

Lucas huffs, breaking eye contact to look towards his friends and it’s only then that Eliott finds the will to do the same. Arthur and Basile wear matching grins, smugly pleased with themselves. Yann and Idriss seem less interested, chatting amongst themselves just to the side of everyone else.

“You guys are such losers,” Lucas says releasing his hold on Eliott as he turns to face them. It forces Eliott to do the same, though he keeps a possessive hand gripping Lucas’s waist. His body, as though of its own volition, refuses to turn fully towards the others, remaining angled towards the boy at his side.

“Oh, we’re losers?” Arthur challenges, his smile widening. “Funny, I’d say –”

“Yeah, you are,” Lucas cuts him off swiftly, his tone carrying a very real threat, though it’s infused with good humour. “And you’ll watch your mouth if you know what’s good for you, Broussard.” There’s a weight to the words the two friends clearly understand, though the significance goes unspoken. Arthur, for once, looks properly chastised.

Eliott knows things between Lucas, Arthur, and Basile have been in unfamiliar territory since the latter two boys confessed their involvement in the Charles-fiasco. Lucas’s response to his friends’ actions had been rooted in anger rather than the heartbreak Eliott’s own role had elicited. But in this way, it had been easier for Lucas to move forward with his friends. From what Eliott understands, and from what he’s observed for himself, the boys’ friendship is not on precarious ground, so much as it’s on uneven cement, solid but lopsided. Both Arthur and Basile clearly know they will need to work to get back on an even level with Lucas, hence… paintball. Or more accurately, a chance for Lucas to pelt his friends with paintballs. Lucas had called it ‘cathartic violence’ when he’d invited Eliott to the outing. And while Eliott had reservations about how much violence this would entail – and how much would be directed his way – he would never turn down an opportunity to spend time with Lucas.

“How are we deciding teams?” Idriss interrupts Lucas and Arthur’s stare-off.

Lucas’s eyes flick briefly to Eliott before they return to Arthur. This time identical smiles grow on each of the friends’ faces. Eliott isn’t sure he likes the looks of them. Which is to say, he would do morally questionable things for Lucas’s smile, but he recognizes the threat in the curve of his beautiful boy’s lips. Eliott swallows as he looks to his best friend. Idriss meets his gaze, his eyebrows rising as though to say, ‘I told you so.’ And he had. His exact words had been, ‘You, Eliott Demaury, signed up to get shot at with paint-filled projectiles and think you won’t make an ass out of yourself in front of that kid you’re gagging over?’ Eliott had scoffed and assured his friend that he’d be fine…

Eliott suddenly has the distinct impression he’s signed up for more than he bargained.

* * * *

* * * *

“Get down!” Idriss hisses, slamming Eliott into the wooden siding of the building they’ve taken cover behind. A pellet whizzes directly by Eliott’s head a split second later. Adrenaline surges through Eliott’s veins though it does little more than increase his heartrate and desire to desert the game entirely.

“Watch the headshots!” Idriss yells in the direction the pellet had come from as he raises his own paint gun, aiming but not yet firing. Eliott holds his own gun tightly to his chest, doing his best to control his frantic breathing. He tugs at the jumpsuit they’d all been required to wear over their own clothing, suddenly uncomfortably warm.

It’s not that Eliott’s entirely useless when it comes to competitive games or sport, but he finds that the very real threat of pain attached to this particular game, both receiving and inflicting, has left him more wary than he would have expected. And then of course, there’s the fact that it turns out he apparently possesses no skills when it comes to aiming a gun. In the future, he plans to stick to paint on canvas only. He makes a mental note to tell Lucas as much.

“All’s fair in love and war!” Arthur yells back. Idriss immediately shoots off a round of paint pellets in the direction of Arthur’s voice and there’s a yelp and a rustling of bushes as Arthur apparently flees.

Idriss exhales, leaning back against the building and looking to Eliott.

“You good?”

Eliott shrugs. “I guess.” It sounds more like a question than an answer. He frowns unhappily as he looks at his friend. “Turns out I’m not very good at paintball.”

Idriss snorts. “I could’ve told you that. Think I did, actually.” At least he’s amused.

Eliott acknowledges this with a sigh. So far, the day hasn’t turned out at all as he expected – or hoped. He’d thought the outing would involve being with Lucas. He’d planned to flirt shamelessly, maybe weasel himself a few kisses, and touch as much as humanly possible without all-out mauling Lucas in front of his friends. Instead, they’d been split into opposite teams – at Lucas’s insistence no less – and Eliott had found himself floundering to keep up with his teammates, Idriss and Basile, while seeing nothing of the boy he’d had every intention of staying glued to for the duration of the day. It’s made worse by the fact that everything between them still feels so precarious.

They’re together. Eliott knows they are – feels confident even, at least in the depth of their feelings for one another, but there’s a neediness that arises with having come so close to losing Lucas, that makes Eliott want to cling bodily to him and never let go. Eliott’s never been clingy. In the past, the very thought would have made him laugh. Clingy with friends? Sure. Glued to Idriss’s side when Eliott was feeling particularly needy until his friend reluctantly returned forced cuddles? Absolutely. But clingy with romantic and/or sexual partners? Never. He’d never had cause to be. But for Lucille who had never inspired that kind of need in Eliott, his dalliances had always been fleeting. A pleasurable but temporary experience. With Lucas everything is different. It had been from the moment Eliott’s eyes had landed on him in the courtyard that day, vibrant and beautiful, guarded but filled to the brim with too much insolence and attitude for Eliott to be anything but captivated.

The fact that they’re taking things slow has made things excruciatingly worse. While Eliott has no intention of pressuring Lucas into sex – he’d wait forever if that is what Lucas asked of him – knowing what it’s like to be with Lucas, to be touched by Lucas, to hear him moan and shudder as pleasure wracks his body and his nails sink into Eliott’s skin, means taking things ‘slow’ is an exercise in abject torture.

He can’t help but wonder if Lucas is just as bad. If every time they’re in the same room he’s picturing the way their bellies look pressed up against one another, slick with sweat, clenching and rolling as they move together until Lucas spills between them. Or… if these visual assaults are for Eliott alone to endure. If he’s the only one who’s been reduced to a hormonal, horny mess, as desperate to wax poetry into Lucas’s ear as he is to throw him down and fuck him on the nearest available surface.

Or… if maybe – just maybe – Lucas is as desperate to consummate their commitment physically as Eliott is. He’s afraid to hope for as much.

“We’ve gotta get around the perimeter,” Idriss says, jerking his chin in the direction of a band of trees a good distance away near the fence line. Eliott reluctantly pulls himself from thoughts of Lucas to focus on his friend.

“I thought you said they’d expect that,” Eliott questions, eyeing the distance they’d be exposed to fire before reaching the safer thick of the trees. He’s been hit by paint pellets twice so far, only twice thanks to Idriss who’d been more than prepared for Eliott’s ineptitude. His friend has been hauling Eliott around behind him like a lost fawn, all gangly limbs, zero coordination, and of no help at all. In doing so, Idriss had taken more hits than he would have had he been free to hunt the others without the burden of his friend. And considering the way Eliott’s body throbs where he’d been hit, deep bruises no doubt already colouring his skin, he can’t imagine the way Idriss must be feeling. Eliott has already made plans to thank him by giving up the flat for a weekend, leaving it for Idriss and Manon to debauch as much as they like. Maybe Eliott could stay with Lucas…

“Don’t think we have a choice, the way they’ve got us boxed in.”

Eliott nods, hoping that it comes across as though he’s given their strategy the same careful thought as Idriss. “We make a run for it?” He doesn’t like his chances of doing so without catching a foot in the tangle of weeds spread before them and faceplanting in a way he’s not sure his ego is prepared to handle, but he’s not about to question Idriss.

Before Idriss can answer, Basile is materializing in front of them. Eliott sucks in a startled breath, comforted by the fact that Idriss too jumps in surprise at the sudden appearance of their teammate. Eliott never would have predicted Basile would be the stealthiest of the three of them, but Lucas’s oft-goofy friend had surprised them.

“You’re too easy to find,” is the first thing Basile says.

“I’m aware,” Idriss acknowledges dryly. “Thought you were guarding the flag?”

“It’s hidden,” Basile answers, eyes darting around them. “They were closing in. If I stayed, I would’ve led them right to it.”

Capture the Flag is not the game Eliott imagined being paired with paintball, but he must admit it’s given everyone purpose besides hunting one another down.

“Shit,” Idriss breathes, paint gun at the ready. “We’ve gotta get to theirs before they find ours.”

Basile nods in agreement. “Time’s running out.”

They’re both so serious about it. Eliott might laugh if their anxiety weren’t so damn contagious.

“Should we –” Eliott’s words are cut off as the sound of a paint pellet streaking through the air is met with a yelp from Basile as he takes a hit to the arm.

“Down!” Idriss yells, hauling Eliott down with him as they duck. But there are paint pellets hitting the wood of the building that had been shielding them, the sound only adding to the cacophony of sudden chaos.

“It’s an ambush!” Basile yells from where he’s taken cover on Idriss’s other side, gun raised as he returns fire.

“We’ve gotta move.” Idriss doesn’t wait for agreement, pushing Basile ahead of him as they make a break for the treeline.

Eliott rushes to follow but before he’s made it a meter from their former shelter, he’s hit by a pellet to the chest. The force knocks the air from his lungs, his momentum halting as he folds over, a hand pressing to the splatter of paint, pain immediately radiating from the point of contact. Idriss and Basile are disappearing across the field in what feels like a split second. Paint pellets still cut through the air.

Eliott stumbles sideways, lurching around the side of the wooden building. He leans against the wooden planks for a moment, gasping in desperate lungful’s of air as he considers his options. There’s little to no hope he’ll make it to Idriss and Basile, but he remembers a series of shelters in the opposite direction. If everyone is giving chase to his other two teammates, he stands a chance of at least finding refuge in that direction. He’s of no help in their quest for the other team’s flag if he does so, but he hardly thinks Idriss and Basile were banking on him being their saviour in the game anyhow.

Decision made, Eliott braces himself and takes off at a run, keeping his focus only on the trees and bushes ahead of him that he must maneuver. The sound of shouts and paint pellets hitting wood still echo around him, but he takes no more hits as he pushes into the thick of trees. He allows his steps to slow as the noise fades behind him. He’s not entirely sure he’s moving in the right direction, all of the scenery looking somewhat the same, when there is suddenly a break in the trees, and he sees the row of shelters just ahead of him.

Eliott breathes a sigh of relief, taking furtive scope of the surrounding area before he hurries towards the ramshackle buildings. The wooden shelters are meant to serve as semi-bunkers in battle and they’re decorated by paint splatters of games past. A couple of them are properly enclosed, with only windows cut into the wood and an open doorway offering access to the space. It’s the perfect spot for Eliott to tuck his tail between his legs and lick his wounds – metaphorical and literal.

Or it would have been the perfect spot if not for the voices Eliott suddenly hears just as he reaches the exterior side of the closest shelter.

Eliott recognizes them immediately: Yann and Arthur.

“No, we loop around behind them,” Arthur is saying. “So long as they haven’t found the flag, we can cut off their escape.”

Eliott’s heart ricochets in his chest, listening as Yann responds, their voices getting closer. If he makes a break for the trees he’ll be seen, but he can’t tell from which side they approach. If he attempts to take shelter in the building he’s pressed against, he risks being seen and being trapped.

Not for the first time Eliott wonders why this game is so popular. It’s stressful and painful.

Their voices become clearer as they get closer. He needs to make a decision.

Eliott reaches for one of the paintball ‘grenades’ he’d stashed in a utility pocket hanging from the waist of his jumpsuit. It’s nothing more than a water balloon filled with paint, but they’re effective in close proximity, and Yann and Arthur don’t know he’s there. He has the element of surprise on his side and maybe that will allow him a chance at escape – escape without receiving a whole new selection of pellet shaped bruises that is.

Eliott inhales deeply, holding the air in his lungs as he clutches the paintball grenade and readies himself. Their voices sound as though they’re right next to them. They’ll appear any second.

It’s as he raises his hand, grenade at the ready, that an arm wraps around his waist from behind. He has no time to be surprised before he’s being pulled backwards. Having not expected the ambush, Eliott provides no resistance, stumbling in a flurry of limbs until he finds himself inside the shelter he’d been pressed against, back hitting the wall as he’s shoved against it by –

Lucas.

The air Eliott had been holding in his lungs is forcefully expelled as he stares at the boy before him. Lucas raises a finger to his lips, indicating that Eliott is to remain silent. His hand is still spread on Eliott’s chest, the weight he presses against it holding Eliott to the wall. His lips quirk into a slight smirk, likely in response to the awed look no doubt on Eliott’s face. Eliott isn’t the least bit embarrassed by it. He’s never seen anything – anyone – as spectacular as Lucas.

Lucas’s attention flicks to the window at their side, eyebrows pulling together as he listens to Arthur and Yann passing. There’s a streak of pink paint across one of his cheekbones, fluorescent and somehow fitting on his face, as though it were there specifically to highlight his ethereal beauty. His hair is unkempt and wild, a product of sweat and dirt-covered hands running through it again and again. Eliott wants to comb his fingers back into it – to grab and hold.

When Lucas’s eyes fix back on him, they’re illuminated by the stream of light cutting through the window into the space, big and crystal blue. His long eyelashes, too unbearably pretty to belong to a face already so beautiful, sweep down with a slow blink. Eliott isn’t sure what might be written across his own face – how naked his want, but Lucas’s eyes darken at the sight, pupils expanding until they nearly swallow the blue.

Eliott’s breath is coming harder, oxygen suddenly at a premium. He’s never known want like he has since meeting Lucas.

He moves a hand to Lucas’s body, his only thought being to touch – to bring Lucas closer. But with his thoughts in a fog since Lucas’s face appeared in front of him, Eliott had forgotten entirely that the hand he moves is not empty.

There’s a popping sound and blue paint splatters across Lucas’s stomach as the paint grenade Eliott had been holding bursts where he’d unintentionally pressed it against the other boy. The sound is chorused by Yann calling from somewhere nearby.

“Lu?”

Lucas’s eyes drop to where the paint drips down the front of his jumpsuit, his mouth parted with incredulous surprise, before they return to Eliott.

“Oops,” Eliott whispers and doesn’t even bother to try to supress the quiet chuckle building at the back of his throat.

Lucas tears his eyes away, looking towards the open window as he calls back to his friend. “I’m taking a piss. I’ll catch up.”

“Don’t piss where people are walking.”

“I’ll piss on your shoes! Fuck off.”

Yann laughs, the sound of it fading as he and Arthur continue on their way. Eliott echoes the humour, exhaling a dry sound of amusement as Lucas’s attention returns to him.

The pressure on Eliott’s chest is released as Lucas smooths his hand down until he’s pressing knuckles lightly to Eliott’s stomach.

“I save your ass and you grenade bomb me.” Even as he admonishes Eliott, his eyes haven’t lost their desire, dark with a need they’ve yet to satisfy.

A smile pulls at Eliott’s lips, the curve informed by smug satisfaction spurred by Lucas’s words. “You saved me,” he repeats, the realization burning through him in a flash of pulsing heat.  

“Took pity on you.”

“Saved me,” Eliott insists, welcoming the brash confidence that comes with the knowledge. “My hero.” While there is teasing in his tone, there’s genuine wonder sharing space alongside it. Lucas had intentionally seen that they were placed on opposing teams. The only thing that had stopped Eliott from openly objecting at the time was the mischievous glint in Lucas’s eye as he’d walked away from Eliott to join his teammates at the start of the game. What Eliott hadn’t expected was for Lucas to save him from his own teammates, and he wonders if this was something Lucas hadn’t expected either, an impulsive decision made in the heat of the moment. The thought has Eliott moving a hand back to Lucas’s body, unconcerned by the paint splattered there as he hooks a finger through a loop of the utility belt woven into the jumpsuit, tugging Lucas closer.

Lucas doesn’t resist, stepping easily into Eliott’s space, the fresh paint spread across his front now pressed between their bodies.  

Eliott wonders how well it will transfer, whether they’ll both sport smears of blue paint across their lower bodies, visual evidence of their desire for one another. He might like the thought a little too much.

Lucas licks his lips, voice dropping to a husky whisper that has Eliott’s dick twitching in his pants.

“Where’s your flag?”

It takes Eliott’s brain a delayed moment to understand the question. “What?” He exhales an amused puff of air, caught between humour and disbelief. “Are you serious?” Lucas has some gall, Eliott will give him that.

Lucas’s eyes drop, focusing on where his fingers crawl up Eliott’s body until they rest lightly on his chest. He looks back up through his eyelashes. “Do you want me?” He knows exactly what’s he’s doing and Eliott won’t even pretend to be immune.

Eliott raises an eyebrow as he smiles in return, impressed despite himself. “Are you blackmailing me?” He’s reluctant to admit how brilliant the strategy if so. His hands slip back to Lucas’s ass, pulling him a little closer, moving slightly so Lucas is positioned straddling his thigh.

Lucas matches his expression, one eyebrow rising as he smiles, the challenge clear. “That’s not an answer.” He shifts against Eliott’s leg, a subtle rocking of his body. There’s a charge between them now. It heats the air around them, making it feel humid and thick, making it harder to think beyond immediate want.  

“I would fuck you right here – against the wall – if you’d let me.”

He means every word. The image they evoke feeling all too real, stiffening his cock where he’s pressed against Lucas’s hip.

It takes Lucas a second to form words, a satisfying sight, his mouth opening and closing twice before he manages to speak. “Even covered in paint?” His voice has dropped an octave and he hasn’t stopped moving against Eliott’s leg, slowly grinding into Eliott’s body in search of the pleasure they both know can be found in one another’s bodies.

“Yes,” Eliott answers, raw with honesty. And then a direct answer to Lucas’s question: “I always want you.”

“Then tell me where your flag is.” There’s no demand in Lucas’s tone, the teasing quality gone now too. Instead, it sounds like a plea.

“So you can win?”

“So we can leave.”

The answer takes Eliott by surprise. “What?”

Lucas swallows, hands sweeping up from Eliott’s chest and over the sides of his neck until they grip the back of his hair. Lucas leans forward until their lips hover a breath apart, his voice barely above a whisper. The force of the words, however, might as well be a scream. “I want you to fuck me.” Eliott’s breath catches in his throat, hands frozen where they grip Lucas’s ass, holding their bodies together, close but not close enough. “Not here. Not against the wall. Not covered in paint.” Lucas swallows, eyes fluttering for a moment as he rocks against Eliott’s thigh. They’re both panting now, breathing into one another’s mouths like Eliott were already inside him. “I want you to fuck me in your bed. Want you deep inside me.” His hands tug at Eliott’s hair as though his words were already reality, as though Eliott was already fucking him into the mattress and it’s all Lucas can do to hang on. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can feel you tomorrow. I want to ache from your cock.” Each word slams into Eliott, accompanying visuals so vivid they feel like memories. He’s so hard he can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his dick, a pulse he can imagine himself matching as he fucks into Lucas’s body. Lucas is in no better state. Eliott can feel him, pressed to his thigh, twitching in minute grinds that seem involuntary, a demand of his body that won’t be ignored. “I want to fuck until we can’t feel our legs – can’t remember our names.” His eyes close, head dropping forward until their foreheads press together. His breath is hot against Eliott’s lips. “Want it to be just us. You and me.”

“Fuck,” Eliott breathes, a shudder rolling through him. He doesn’t hesitate. “It’s hanging from a crack inside the top of the tractor tire. The one painted red.” He tips his head back, scanning Lucas’s face when their eyes meet. “We’ll leave?”

Lucas dives forward, slamming their mouths together in a kiss that serves as answer. Eliott meets his ferocity in kind, forcing Lucas’s lips open with his own and pillaging his mouth with his tongue. He groans deeply, moving a hand to the back of Lucas’s head to hold him where he wants him as he controls the kiss, hot and slick and too good already. He tightens a hand in the strands of Lucas’s hair, nothing gentle about the implicit demand, and a broken whimper falls from Lucas’s lips as he tears his mouth away, panting as he pulls back, eyes wild and pupils blown. Eliott chases his lips, not nearly satiated, but he’s held back by Lucas’s hand, firm against his chest. Lucas has unknowingly placed it over the throbbing bruise left from the paintball Eliott had taken to the chest, and it’s only the spark of consequent pain that stops Eliott from forgetting all plans and spinning them to take Lucas against the wall as he’d imagined.

Lucas’s lips pull up into a smile, the familiar, playful tilt to them matched by the gleam in his eye, and then –

A popping sound and the sensation of cold, wet liquid seeping over the top of Eliott’s head, dripping down until blurs of pink fall from the ends of Eliott’s hair in front of his eyes. The surprise keeps Eliott frozen in place.

Lucas takes a step back, his still raised hand showing evidence of the paint grenade he’s just broken over Eliott’s head.

He giggles, the sound so adorably sweet it’s hard to reconcile it with the absolute brat he’s reaffirmed himself to be. “Meet me by the exit.” He bites his lower lip, taking in Eliott for just a second more before he’s dashing out of the door of the shelter.

Eliott listens to the sounds of Lucas’s footsteps departing as the other runs to catch up with his friends, feeling a little – a lot – as though he’s been outdone and outmatched. Lucas had sprinted away, without a care in the world, full of energy, while Eliott’s legs are barely working, his dick still pressed uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants. His brain isn’t functioning any better, but Lucas’s final words spur him into action. Meet me by the exit.

He exhales shakily, tilting himself away from the wall and doing his best to adjust himself more comfortably in his pants. He pushes a hand up his forehead, smearing the majority of the paint deposited there back into his hair so at the very least it won’t drip directly into his eyes. He wipes the paint now on his hand down the front of his jumpsuit, a stain of fluorescent pink that only makes him picture Lucas’s face, a matching streak of pink across his cheekbone, cheeky smile curling his lips.

Fuck taking it slow.

Lucas demanded to be fucked as hard as Eliott can give him.

Eliott plans to deliver.

Notes:

A mean place to end it... I know 😈

Really tho I need time to edit the next chapter as it's a beast and I need it to be as close to perfect as possible to satisfy my brain.

Just one random note about this chapter:

In paintball games they would normally be wearing goggles and helmets of some kind, to protect their faces and heads but for the sake of this story just accept they aren’t. Safety standards? We don’t know her.

Chapter 10

Notes:

Ok yes I added a chapter but no I didn't split this chapter. I simply have no self-control and could not stop thinking about something I wanted to write for an epilogue despite telling myself an epilogue wasn't necessary for this story. Result: Another chapter and a 4.5k epilogue knocked out in a day. I am who I am 😌.

Editing this chapter truly nearly killed me. So I hope you love it (and if you don't... don't tell me 😂).

* * * * 

Mail scatters to the floor as Eliott deposits Lucas on the kitchen counter, swiping everything in his way from the surface blindly and refusing to allow their mouths to part, sucking on Lucas’s tongue as he steps between his legs to press their bodies together.

He breaks their kiss only to tear at Lucas’s shirt, ripping it up over the other’s boy’s head in a violent motion that makes Lucas gasp. His hands grapple for Eliott’s ass, grinding their clothed dicks together, an action that has Eliott dropping his face into Lucas’s neck with a groan, immediately latching onto the tendon standing out in stark relief. One of Lucas’s hands clutches the back of Eliott’s head, threading through hair to hold him in place, a breathy moan escaping from his throat as Eliott teethes and sucks at the skin.

Heat radiates from Lucas’s body, consuming Eliott too until he can’t bear it any longer and he has to release Lucas to strip himself of his own shirt. Lucas reaches to assist though he’s of little help in his current state. His hands do no more than skim across newly exposed skin as Eliott tosses his shirt aside, focus turning to Lucas’s pants.

Beads of water drip from the ends of Eliott’s hair to his chest, a product of the cursory wash he’d given his head in the sink of the bathrooms at the paintball facility. It had been a necessary if frustrating attempt to rectify the mess Lucas had gifted him in the form of the paint grenade. Eliott barely registers the shock of cold meeting his heated skin until Lucas is tracing the fall with his fingers, trailing a droplet of pink water as it marks a course down Eliott’s chest until it meets his nipple. Lucas presses his thumb there, marking a new path for the bead of moisture as he spreads it in a circular motion around the puckered skin. Goosebumps rise on Eliott’s skin as air meets the now damp, sensitive bud.

Lucas licks his lips, looking back up to meet Eliott’s gaze with want so blatant Eliott says a small prayer for his own stamina. There’s a smear of pink left on Lucas’s cheek though, unlike Eliott, he had taken the time to shower properly before leaving the paintball facility. Initially, it had been maddening to wait on him when Eliott was dead set on dragging them both out of there and to a bed as quickly as possible. But then Lucas had come out of the showers, smelling of soap, skin clean and flushed from the heat of the shower with nothing but a smudge of pink on his cheekbone left as evidence of the game, and all complaints Eliott had been prepared to voice had disappeared alongside the escaping steam. “Should we…” Lucas swallows heavily, attention dropping back to Eliott’s chest where both hands now press, fingers kneading muscle absent-mindedly. “Bedroom?”

Eliott’s progress on Lucas’s pants had paused under Lucas’s attentions and he returns his focus there now. “In a minute.” He wants nothing more than to spread Lucas over his bed – to be inside him – but this – “This first.” He spreads the front of Lucas’s jeans, slipping his hands beneath the material until he finds purchase on the plump rounds of Lucas’s ass, the thin barrier of his briefs the only thing preventing Eliott from sinking his fingers into bare skin. “Bum up.”

There’s no easy way to rid Lucas of his pants, they discover, at least not with him still seated on the counter. But Eliott won’t entertain the thought of allowing him to move, not when he looks this good, panting and spread on the same surface Eliott will see every morning as he goes to make himself coffee.

Lucas makes a frustrated sound as he wiggles in an effort to slip his pants down his butt while Eliott’s hands and insistence on Lucas remaining on the counter impede him from doing so.

“Eliott, I can’t –” His words cut off with a surprised inhale as Eliott wraps an arm around his lower back, one hand firm on Lucas’s ass as he lifts. He takes a step back, holding Lucas tightly against him. It’s barely a strain. Lucas isn’t heavy and Eliott is determined.

Lucas is too surprised to offer resistance, arms immediately moving to wrap tightly around Eliott’s neck. It puts their faces too closely together for Eliott not to take advantage. He presses a kiss to the line of Lucas’s jaw, nipping lightly at the skin as he pulls Lucas’s briefs and pants down with a single-mindedness that quickly has the material bunched at Lucas’s thighs. Good enough. Lucas’s erection bobs free, pink and perfect, a dribble of precum blurting from the tip. Saliva fills Eliott’s mouth at the sight, awe fighting for space alongside his desire. This beautiful boy panting in his arms, hard and desperate, wants Eliott. It’s a truth so extraordinary, it barely feels real. But they’re both here, flesh and bones, heat and want.

Eliott sits him back onto the counter, meeting Lucas’s gaze with a smug smile. 

“God,” Lucas pants, eyes wide, nails biting into the muscle of Eliott’s shoulders. “You’re so hot.” He squeezes his eyes shut, spreading his legs as far as the material bound around his thighs will allow. The suggestion is clear.

“Yeah?” Eliott runs his hands up and over the bunched jeans until they smooth over heated skin, only stopping when they meet the crease where Lucas’s thighs join his groin. Eliott grips him there, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, watching every flicker of desire on Lucas’s face with satisfaction.

“Like you don’t know.” Lucas’s voice is strained and there are beads of sweat forming like pearls at his hairline.

Eliott massages his thumbs in circles against Lucas’s skin, moving them higher, until they find course hair. “Different coming from you.”

Lucas’s hips twitch beneath Eliott’s hands and his eyebrows pull together. He looks pained, desperation overcoming him even as he refuses to voice it.

It would be cruel to make him wait any longer.

Eliott drops his head down, taking the tip of Lucas’s erection into his mouth without hesitation, one hand moving to fist the base of his cock, the other slipping back to his ass.

Lucas makes a strangled noise, catching himself with hands pressed to the surface of the counter as he falls back against it. His hips jolt closer to the edge, a subconscious attempt to fuck himself into Eliott’s mouth.

Eliott keeps a firm hold, enjoying a brief taste of Lucas as he dips his tongue into the tip of his erection, before sinking deeper, jaw straining to accommodate the intrusion as he lowers his head until his lips meet his fist. He presses his tongue to the vein running up the underside of the shaft and hums with satisfaction.

“Oh,” Lucas moans, high-pitched and breathless. “Oh – oh god.” He slumps back even further against the counter, only his elbows keeping him from collapsing entirely, and when Eliott chances a peek as he drags his lips up the length of Lucas’s erection, Lucas has his head thrown back, his chest and neck painted in splashes of pink and red.

Eliott is tempted to desert his original plans, the sight of the boy spread before him leaving him desperate know what it would take for Lucas’s control to abandon him completely, pleasure consuming him until he came down Eliott’s throat. But there is something Eliott wants more.

He pulls off and Lucas makes an unhappy sound, his head tipping down to catch Eliott’s eyes, the need reflected in his own making Eliott’s cock throb in the confines of his pants.

Eliott smirks, waiting until Lucas’s eyes drop to the slanted curve of his mouth.

“Wha-”

Eliott interrupts the would-be question by pressing a hand to Lucas’s chest and forcefully flattening him on the counter. He doesn’t allow time for the change to register before he’s folding Lucas’s legs back towards his chest, both hands at the back of his thighs. The jeans still bunched around Lucas’s legs limit his range of motion, but something about the sight of him still partially clothed and at Eliott’s mercy, is more gratifying than the obstruction is inconvenient.

Eliott inhales a shuddering breath as he takes in the view the new position affords him, Lucas’s ass presented to him, skin flush with colour and covered in goosebumps, his perfect, pretty, little hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Eliott…” Whether it’s a question or a demand, Eliott doesn’t know. Lucas sounds utterly undone, voice broken, an echo of a plea in the sound.

Eliott doesn’t have any intention of making either of them wait any longer. He’d like to hear that voice beg, but there will be time for that.

He presses a kiss to a clothed calf as he folds himself over, dropping his face to Lucas’s ass and immediately pressing his tongue flat to the furrowed hole.

Lucas makes a sound of surprise, throaty and animalistic. One of his hands slaps to Eliott’s head, fingers yanking viscously at the tangled, damp strands. He pushes and pulls with equal demand, wanting Eliott to continue even as he doubts that he can handle the sensations.

Eliott raises his face just a little, gripping the cheeks of Lucas’s ass to spread him as far as his bound legs allow. It’s enough. His puckered hole, shiny with spit now, waits for the return of Eliott’s mouth. There’s a quiver running through Lucas’s body, making him tremble in Eliott’s hold. His hand tightens in Eliott’s hair.

“I –” Lucas pants, barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing. “I need –”

Eliott knows. He drops his face and dips his tongue in, pressing as deeply as Lucas’s seized, pleasure-stricken body allows.

Lucas releases a wanton cry, loud enough that Eliott’s neighbours or anyone in the building’s hallway will be able to hear it clearly. A possessive sort of satisfaction fills Eliott at the thought.

He flicks his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, spreading saliva until Lucas drips with it. Eliott’s lube is in a drawer in his room. But the thought of leaving Lucas like this, or moving him when he looks so mouth-wateringly perfect, is unfathomable. For now, spit will have to do.

Eliott shoves his tongue back into Lucas’s body, deeper now as Lucas relaxes to accommodate the intrusion. He fucks it in and out, listening to the way Lucas whines each time, the vibrations coursing through his body intensifying until he’s outright shaking in Eliott’s hold.

Eliott pulls back, sucking a finger into his mouth and coating it with saliva before pressing it to Lucas’s body, which locks rigid in anticipation of penetration. Eliott brings his mouth to join his finger at Lucas’s hole, and he licks and sucks at the rim until Lucas makes room for him, and he can sink his finger into the soft channel.

Lucas cries out as he does so, his body jerking in Eliott’s hold. He’s so vocal, louder than he’s ever been before, and Eliott knows the sound of him, lost in the throws of pleasure, will imprint in memory. Eliott’s glad for it.

Even with only spit to lubricate the passage, Eliott’s finger sinks easily in to the third knuckle. He licks around it, moving the digit in a subtle rocking motion in and out of Lucas’s body.

Lucas hiccups a needy, pleading sound, and Eliott catches sight of his free hand moving to encircle his erection. He grips his own cock roughly, immediately pumping through a closed, dry fist.

Eliott raises his head, reaching to pull Lucas’s hand away from himself, and waiting for the other boy to meet his eyes before he shakes his head.

“No.”

Lucas makes the sound again, though it better approximates a hiccup of pain now. His eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“I can’t.” The words sound like a sob. “I need to – I need to come.”

Eliott’s finger is still deep inside him, and he fucks it a little more roughly in and out of Lucas’s body, not enough to adequately stretch him open, and the drag too dry to properly satisfy, but enough to serve as a promise of what is to come.

“I know, baby,” Eliott rumbles, keeping his voice deep and steady. “I know. And you will.” He bends to press a kiss to the trembling muscle of Lucas’s inner thigh. “But not yet.”

It’s a definite sob now. Tears leak from the corners of Lucas’s eyes as feelings overwhelm him. Strands of hair stick to the sweat on his forehead, and the paint he had forgotten to wash from his face when he’d showered, glows pink in a smeared streak across his flushed cheek. He’s never been more beautiful.

Eliott draws his finger from Lucas’s body, immediately replacing it with his mouth. He’s able to penetrate deeper now, sinking his tongue in until it’s properly enclosed in heat and Lucas sounds a little like he’s choking, sobs of pleasure fighting to be released from the strangled confines of his throat. His hand whips back to his erection in a brazen loss of control and he tugs desperately, fist moving in a blur.

Eliott rises completely, leaving Lucas’s gaping hole empty, absent the relief of touch. He reaches to encircle Lucas’s wrist, pulling his hand once more away from his cock.

“Told you not to touch, baby,” he says with a breathless grin, battling to fill his lungs with oxygen as his own body pulses with unanswered need. “Not listening.”

Tear tracks mark the sides of Lucas’s face, and he looks at Eliott feverishly, eyes wild. “Please – let me come.”  

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He pauses, letting Lucas take in the words. “Thought you wanted my cock splitting you open when you came.”

Lucas’s eyes widen, impossibly large and glassy blue. “Yes.” A shudder wracks his body, and he pushes up from the counter, reaching for Eliott with eager hands. “Yes, yes, yes. Please. Eliott.” Eliott wraps an arm around his back, helping him to an upright position. Now able to touch, Lucas does so, hands skimming down Eliott’s chest until they find the clasp of his pants. “Now. Need you now.”

Eliott captures Lucas’s hands, dipping forward to peck a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, too innocent a gesture for the explicit picture Lucas makes, half-clothed, hard and panting, sweat creating a fine sheen on his skin that leaves him glowing. “Bed first.” Eliott pulls Lucas’s pants the rest of the way down, freeing his legs and leaving the jeans discarded on the kitchen floor. “C’mon.” Lucas wraps arms and legs around Eliott’s body, insistent that they not being separated. He’s no burden to carry and it’s with no small amount of wonder that Eliott makes his way towards his bedroom, a squirming, naked Lucas pressed to his front, legs and arms wrapped securely around him, face buried in his neck. Eliott isn’t sure what he’s ever done in his life to deserve the perfection of such a moment, but he doesn’t plan to let it go to waste.

It’s not a long journey from the kitchen to Eliott’s bedroom, but the motion of walking causes their bodies to grind together in a way that too closely resembles what Eliott plans to do to Lucas, to remain unaffected. Lucas makes a quiet noise into Eliott’s neck – a whimper – as his erection rubs between them. He shifts in Eliott’s hold, rocking his hips as he chases pleasure so close within reach. His breathing is coming in fast, hot puffs of exhalation as they reach the threshold of the bedroom, movements adopting more determined intent.

Eliott tuts with teasing reprimand. “Gonna come like that?” He smooths a hand over Lucas’s ass as he approaches the bed, dipping into the split of his cheeks until searching fingers caress Lucas’s hole. A reminder of his promise. “Patience, bratty boy.”

Lucas’s spasms at the touch, and keeps arms locked around Eliott’s neck, forcing Eliott down to hover above him as he’s laid back on the bed, his attention turning to Eliott’s pants. Eliott props himself on raised arms, watching the way Lucas sucks his lower lip into his mouth as he concentrates on his task. Despite the feverish need thickening the air around them making everything seem to move in slow-motion, Lucas’s fingers work efficiently, unclasping Eliott’s jeans and shoving the stiff material down along with his briefs until their position makes it impossible for him to guide their course further and he uses his feet, managing to lower the clothing to Eliott’s ankles.

Eliott breathes a sigh of relief, kicking his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off. Released from the restriction of his clothing, his erection strains impossibly hard in the space between their bodies. Lucas’s hands immediately reach for their prize, one smoothing down to massage Eliott’s balls, the other fisting his erection without preamble, thumb collecting the slick offering weeping from the tip.

Eliott groans, involuntarily jerking his hips forward in Lucas’s grip, the gratification of touch so devastating, he forgets for a moment that they intend to do more than just this, hands worshipping one another until they find their release.

Lucas’s mouth curls into a satisfied smile, pleased to have the upper hand for a moment, while his own body is given reprieve.

“Sure you’re up for it?”

Eliott does his best to focus, but the way Lucas continues to stroke him, significantly impacts his ability to comprehend the words and it takes a moment. His mouth pulls into a slanted smile when he understands the suggestion – the implied insult – and he drives his hips down, thrusting through Lucas’s fist. It feels better than a hand has any right to.

“What do you think?” He’s never been harder in his life, his dick heavy in Lucas’s grip, throbbing with the promise of what is to come. Fucking Lucas the way he’d demanded shouldn’t be a problem.

Lucas quirks an eyebrow. “I think it feels like it wouldn’t take you much to get there.” He rubs his thumb against the sensitive underside of the head of Eliott’s dick, and it takes all of Eliott’s self-control to keep his eyes open and fixed on the boy beneath him while pleasure pulses through his body. “I demand more than a two second, two thrust experience.”

Eliott exhales a breathless laugh, “Cheeky,” and lowers his body, forcing Lucas to release his grip as they press together. “Think I’ll put up with that disrespect?” He will. They both know just how much he gets off on Lucas giving him shit.

Lucas’s hands move up to cup Eliott’s face, pulling him down until their foreheads meet.

“Eliott…” He speaks with a shuddering breath, no longer teasing.

“Mmm?” Eliott hums, rubbing their noses together in a soft nuzzle.   

“Lube – where’s your lube?”

Rather than answer, Eliott moves slightly up and off Lucas, reaching to his bedside drawer to retrieve the requested item along with a condom. Lucas snatches the tube from him, snapping the cap open and liberally spreading slick on two of his own fingers.

Eliott rises to a kneel between Lucas’s legs, sitting back on his heels as he watches, bemused but intrigued.

“I can do that, you know,” he says, smoothing hands up the back of Lucas’s thighs causing him to bend his legs further, spread wide for Eliott.

“No, you’ll –” Lucas groans as he sinks two fingers into his body without hesitation. Eliott has to swallow around his suddenly dry throat as he watches. “You’ll take too long.” Lucas’s chest is rising and falling with quickening breaths, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on opening himself up. “Get distracted,” Lucas continues with a guttural moan, fingers moving slickly within him. “Try to eat me out again.”

Eliott breathes an amused sound, gliding his hands up and down Lucas’s inner thighs, silky smooth and quivering. “You weren’t complaining.”

Lucas’s eyes open, their gazes catching and Eliott’s breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t want that,” he says, pulling his fingers from his body. “Want you – you inside.” Eliott’s cock jerks, swollen and untouched, just as impatient for the promise of what is to come as the boy beneath him. Lucas doesn’t say anything else, reaching for the condom Eliott had dropped at their sides and attempting to tear it open. His fingers are too slippery with lube, and he makes a frustrated sound, shoving it at Eliott instead.

Eliott wants to tease him, but he too is past the point of patience. He hurries to open the condom, rolling it down his erection, thankful for the barrier, thin as it is, in offering him at least the illusion of lasting long enough to make it good for Lucas. He spreads a generous amount of lube down the length, and shuffles closer on his knees, situating Lucas’s thighs over his own, legs wrapped around his back. Eliott’s upright position causes Lucas’s lower body to be slightly elevated from the bed, and Eliott takes advantage of the access it gives him, hands moving to grip the generous rounds of Lucas’s ass, spreading him open.

Lucas’s hands are pressed to the mattress beside him, and he stares at Eliott with wide, dark eyes. He licks his lips before he speaks.

“Don’t hold back.”

Eliott doesn’t plan to – not sure he could at this point without losing a vital piece of his sanity. He’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly, never wanted to ruin them quite like this before.

He keeps one hand gripped possessively to Lucas’s ass, the other guiding his cock to Lucas’s slick, waiting hole. He exhales as he begins to press in, listening carefully to the way Lucas’s breathing stutters as the head of Eliott’s cock sinks past initial resistance, Lucas’s body opening for him and then clamping down vice tight around him.

Eliott pauses, muscles vibrating with the control the restraint demands, and drags his eyes up and away from the sight of Lucas’s hole stretched around his cock. Lucas has his eyes shut, a crease between his eyebrows.

“Alright?” Eliott asks, voice strangled. Lucas hadn’t prepped himself long, too impatient to do a thorough job, and he’s tight. It feels incredible, but Eliott isn’t the one being split open. And while he can be as rough as Lucas demands, there’s a difference between that and hurting Lucas.

Lucas nods, hazy eyes appearing beneath heavy lids. “Yeah, yeah,” he slurs, drunk off the feeling already, “S’good. C’mon.”

Eliott is moving before Lucas finishes his sentence, dicking in deeper with a satisfied groan. He pulls back slightly, giving Lucas only a second to adjust to the stretch, before he sinks deeper still. He moves both hands to the joint of Lucas’s hips and thighs, and yanks Lucas back onto his cock as he thrusts forward with a grunt, pelvis slapping the meat of Lucas’s ass as he bottoms out, a high-pitched whine escaping the boy taking him.

Eliott keeps a strong hold as he pulls back, hypnotized by the sight of his cock withdrawing, wet with slick, Lucas’s hole stretched around his girth, tight ring of muscle clenching and seizing as though to prevent his retreat. It’s too perfect a sight to be Eliott’s alone, but he’ll share it with no one. Lucas is his. The possessive thought has him driving back in with a growl, too addicted to the feeling to continue with a leisurely pace any longer. He fucks Lucas like he’s claiming ownership, building a relentless pace that has them both gasping for breath, sounds blurring together until Eliott can’t be sure to who they belong. His unwavering grip on Lucas’s body has him meeting every slam of their bodies together, allowing Eliott to bury himself so deep in Lucas’s ass his vision whites out, the pleasure of so overwhelming he’s sure he’ll be left with a mark, a brand seared to his skin, evidence that he belongs to Lucas.

Lucas thrashes beneath him, hands scrabbling on the mattress for purchase as he matches the animalistic noises coming from Eliott with moans and whines of his own, delicious, little ungh’s pushed from his throat with every thrust of Eliott’s cock inside him. He raises one hand to press against the headboard, stopping Eliott from driving him up the bed with the vigour of their fucking. The sight is as good as an invitation.

Eliott leans back slightly on his heels, hands tight on Lucas’s sides, drawing his hips back until the fat head of his cock tugs at the rim of Lucas’s hole. He pauses only long enough to pull oxygen into his lungs before he unleashes the savagery he’d promised, driving into Lucas with such force and ruthless intensity, Lucas’s back arches off the bed and he throws his head back with a desperate cry of pleasure. The sound bringing Eliott more closely to the edge than even the ecstasy of his body does.

But for the arm Lucas keeps flexed to the headboard, his body goes lax. He surrenders himself to Eliott, letting himself be used, letting Eliott take him apart. Eliott recognizes the staggering amount of trust needed for Lucas to do so, and his balls pull tight to his body at the thought, the crest of his orgasm approaching with an urgency he won’t be able to deny much longer.

He pulls Lucas a little higher against him, leaning back further and changing the angle as he watches Lucas’s face until – there.

Lucas gasps, a choked inhale, his eyes flying open as Eliott finds his mark, hitting Lucas’s prostate again and again, not letting his pace falter.

“That’s good, isn’t it, baby?” Eliott manages to grunt, keeping the angle the same as he fucks into Lucas with abandon. Sweat collecting on their bodies slicks his grip, and he shifts his hands down, digging fingers into Lucas’s ass as he holds him in place, making him take Eliott’s cock again and again.

Lucas’s hand flutters at his side, his eyes fixed on Eliott but unfocused, lost in a haze of own pleasure. The sounds coming from him become more panicked, as though he fears the sensations are becoming too much for him to bear, as though he knows this will shatter him into pieces.

“Gonna co- come for me?” Eliott’s own words are fragmented and strained, only the determination to see Lucas find his release first, holding Eliott back from tipping over the edge. “You can touch.”

It’s what Lucas was waiting for. His hand flies to his cock, stroking once – twice – and he’s coming, back arching off the bed as his eyes squeeze shut, a deep moan escaping his throat as he shoots ropes of cum up his chest, body convulsing as his orgasm takes control, and Eliott can’t hold off any longer.

He releases his hold on Lucas’s hips, letting the boy moaning beneath him drop back to the mattress and immediately following him down, driving his cock deep as his orgasm peaks. He wraps his arms around Lucas’s back, pulling them together in a tight hug as he shudders and groans, rolling them to their sides as waves of pleasure wash over him and he releases into the condom … cock pulsing again and again until he’s sure he has nothing left, until he’s given Lucas everything.

He’s never come so hard in his life.

Aftershocks leave his body shivering, and he pulls Lucas closer when he realizes the boy in his arms is in no better state, trembling where he’s pressed against Eliott, breathing shakily into his chest.

Only once his heartrate has settled to levels that less resemble a heart attack does Eliott attempt speaking.

“Are you ok?”

A giggle bursts from Lucas, not at all what Eliott expected but not unwelcome. He smiles at the sound, pressing his face into Lucas’s hair.

“Oh my god.”

Maybe there’s a smug quality to Eliott’s smile now. Eliott doesn’t think Lucas would object. “Yeah?” He rubs a hand against Lucas’s back, marveling at the smooth expanse of skin he gets to touch, softening cock still encased in heat of Lucas’s body.

Lucas tips his head back, allowing Eliott a good look at him… and nothing could have prepared Eliott for the sight. What hair isn’t a tangle on his head, is matted to the sweat on Lucas’s forehead. His face is still flush with colour, rosy and glowing, his eyes a deep blue and reflecting a level satisfaction Eliott recognizes only because the same thrum of fulfillment is running through his own body. And he’s smiling, bright and wide… so unrestrained and beautiful, Eliott is helpless to do anything but offer the same back.

“I thought it would be good,” Lucas says, voice husky with remembered pleasure, “But that…”

“Met expectations?” Eliott’s asks with an eyebrow arched, smoothing a hand down to pet gently over the swell of Lucas’s ass.

“Better,” Lucas answers honestly. He hiccups a giggle, looking giddy and so fucking sweet, Eliott is hard-pressed not to immediately shower his entire face with kisses – the only thing stopping him being a desire to hear all Lucas has to say. “That was insane.”

Eliott chuckles, satisfying himself with a kiss to the spot between Lucas’s eyebrows. “Careful. Gotta leave room for improvement, or where do we go from here?”

“Uh. We do that,” Lucas answers with a scoff. “Exactly that. Forever and ever.”

 Eliott grins and has to tip his face down to help himself to a lingering kiss before he replies.

“Just that, hm?” He bumps their noses together. “Not the other way?” It’s nothing they’d discussed, having slipped into a mutual agreement of desire without any debate along the way, but it’s nothing Eliott is averse to either, having always considered himself sexually versatile.

Lucas looks momentarily surprised. “You’d want to?”

Eliott shrugs, leaning in to nip at Lucas’s swollen lower lip as he wonders if Lucas ever has before. He supposes that can be a conversation for another day. “If you do.”

Lucas’s eyebrows pull together as he considers this before he nods just slightly. “Maybe. Later.” He exhales, one hand moving to the side of Eliott’s neck where he strokes it against the skin, licking his lips and holding eye contact. “But this again. Lots of times. Just like that.”

Eliott smiles, so filled to the brim with happiness he’s sure it must be pouring from his eyes. “It was good for me too.”

Lucas snorts, a sound too ridiculous for how cute he makes it. “Duh. Kinda realized that.”

Eliott laughs, reluctantly shifting until his spent cock slips from Lucas’s body. He keeps his arms locked around Lucas’s back, only slightly loosening his hold.

Lucas grimaces. “Fuck. Not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.” If he’s intending to stroke Eliott’s ego, he’s doing a fantastic job. Eliott does his best not to preen too obviously.

“I believe that was the request.”

“Mmm,” Lucas hums, not disagreeing. He shuffles back just a little, glancing down their bodies with a scrunch of his nose. “We’re disgusting. We should shower.” Images of Lucas naked under the spray of the showerhead bombard Eliott immediately and he’s only a little surprised (but a lot impressed) when his dick gives a valiant twitch of interest.

“Together?”

Lucas looks back up, eyes narrowing with suspicion, as though Eliott was broadcasting the indecent images running rampant through his head. “We’re not gonna have sex. We’re gonna get clean.”

Eliott arches an eyebrow, making his skepticism clear. “You expect me to get into a shower with you all slippery and wet, and expect me not to want a repeat?”

Lucas gaze skips down Eliott’s body until he locates his hand resting on the mattress between them. He cups it, bringing it up to his lips, and presses a kiss to the knuckles. Eliott’s heart stutters in his chest at the gesture, feelings overwhelming him so suddenly it’s a wonder he doesn’t declare his undying love right then and there. He doubts Lucas would be surprised if he did.

Lucas’s eyes catch his, mischief rather than sentiment looking back. “You don’t have to be up in me for that.” And then he sucks one of Eliott’s fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digit. For a moment, Eliott really does consider pinning him back to the mattress and taking him apart all over again. His dick is making a heroic effort to stand at the ready once more, but there are still images of wet and naked Lucas running wild through his head, and they’re now accompanied by the promise of a blowjob.

He pulls from Lucas’s touch and rolls over, immediately sitting up as he swings his legs off the bed and disposes of the condom. “Yeah. Ok. Good.” He stands, turning back to Lucas who sits propped on the bed, naked, debauched, and grinning. “Shower.” Eliott grabs one of Lucas’s wrists and begins tugging him off the bed as the other boy giggles, clearly delighted by the desperation he’s reawakened in Eliott. Eliott doesn’t mind being so transparent. “You. Wet. In shower. Now.”

The sound of Lucas’s giggles as Eliott drags him to the bathroom is rivalled in perfection only by the way he collapses into hysterical laughter when Eliott trips on the bathmat and nearly knocks himself out tumbling into the tub. Eliott wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * * *

Another satisfying orgasm each and they collapse back into Eliott’s bed, curling into one another immediately. Eliott pulls the covers over them, tucking Lucas into his chest, though he ensures their faces remain tipped back to look at one another. Exhaustion makes his eyelids heavy, and the bruises and exertions of the day are beginning to make themselves known, leaving Eliott feeling achy and utterly drained, but he’s unable to stop looking at Lucas, bathed in the shadows of the now dark bedroom.

Lucas blinks, eyes illuminated by the little bit of streetlight streaming through the crack in the curtains. He’s watching Eliott just as intently.

Eliott brings a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently and stroking the pad of his thumb against Lucas’s cheekbone. He says nothing, too many thoughts filling his head to choose just one; too many feelings occupying his chest to find words to adequately capture them. It’s Lucas who speaks into the darkness, voice soft and transparently vulnerable, no defenses to be found.

“Eliott? Can I tell you something?”

Eliott smooths his hand back until he’s tracing the shape of Lucas’s ear with gentle fingers. “You can tell me anything.”

Lucas hesitates, insecurity obvious even with shadows hiding the details of his face. The sight has Eliott’s fingers pausing on the shell of his ear. He waits, giving Lucas the time he needs.

When Lucas speaks, it’s with a halting breath. “I –” He curls down and into Eliott’s chest, hiding his face in the skin of Eliott’s throat, but his words ring clear. “I’ve never liked anyone as much as you.”

The ache blooming from the bruise on Eliott’s chest spreads to encase his ribs, making it feel as though his lungs and heart are being compressed. He speaks around the emotion clogging his throat.

“Me too. I’ve never –” He swallows, exhaling a shaky breath, warm hand spread on Lucas’s back. “I’ve never felt this way before. Not for anyone.”

Lucas breathes against his neck, hands slipping around to Eliott’s back where he clings tightly. “Please don’t hurt me.” The words are barely audible with how quietly he speaks now. It’s obvious what it’s taken him to say them – the courage required, and vulnerability demanded.

There’s an unspoken word at the end of Lucas’s sentence. Again. Please don’t hurt me again.

Eliott hugs Lucas closer to his chest, arms wrapping tightly around his back. There’s nothing productive in the guilt Eliott still carries. It’s deserved, but it doesn’t make Eliott the man Lucas deserves.

And it’s in that moment he realizes a very simple truth: He loves Lucas.

It’s no surprise and it doesn’t feel new. He’s perhaps known he was well past falling in love for a while now. But it’s the first time the words have been so clear in his own head.

It might always matter what he did, and he might never be without the shame that comes with the memory of those choices, but he recognizes now, it matters more what he does.

Action. That’s what Lucas deserves. A present and future where Eliott shows Lucas exactly how much he loves him, how devoted he is to making Lucas happy, and exactly how good of a man Eliott can be. The man Lucas deserves. The man Eliott knows he is.

“I promise.”

And maybe it’s a promise he shouldn’t make – can’t make. A future together means the potential for pain and mistakes, but Eliott can promise to be with Lucas through it all, to love him without reservation, no matter the obstacles, without hesitation or fear. Fully and completely.

And so, he does.

* * * *

Eliott awakes to the sound of Idriss’s voice. It’s not at all how he would have chosen to be awoken, but then again… he might have brought this on himself.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Idriss is saying, sounding more than a little annoyed. His voice gets louder as he approaches and Eliott slowly blinks his eyes open, sunlit room coming into focus. “I swear, if you fucked in the kitchen, Eliott –” His words cut off as he appears in Eliott’s open bedroom doorway, taking in the scene before him. He’s holding Lucas’s pants in one hand. His voice drops to a quieter level, conscious now of the still-sleeping boy shifting just a little in Eliott’s arms, roused by the raised voice of Eliott’s best friend and roommate. “You didn’t even shut the door? What if I came home last night, hunh?” He gives Eliott a look that speaks volumes. “You think I wanna see that?”

Eliott presses a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head, smiling at the way Lucas’s lips smack together as his body fights the call to wake, before looking back up to his friend with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint,” his voice is well-trodden gravel, “but I don’t have an exhibitionist kink. Just forgot.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Idriss scoffs, looking pointedly down to the boy who – oh – who’s awake now, blinking up at Eliott with drowsy eyes, a crease between his eyebrows.

“Why is it loud?”

Eliott smiles, transfixed by the picture Lucas makes, sleepy and soft, tangled hair and swollen lips, and beautiful – always so very beautiful. He brushes Lucas’s hair back from his face, moving a thumb to his mouth where Eliott presses down gently on his plush lower lip.

“Can blame having roommates for that,” he answers.  

This doesn’t seem to clarify anything for Lucas as he looks just as confused, still brushing off the cobwebs of sleep.

Manon’s voice joining Idriss’s gets his attention, however.

“Oh my god,” she coos, appearing at Idriss’s side. “They are precious.”

“Don’t encourage them,” Idriss complains, moving an arm to wrap around her shoulders. “They don’t need to know how cute they are.”

“Knew you thought we were cute,” Eliott teases, adding just enough smug glee to his tone to have Idriss rolling his eyes.

Lucas squirms, forcing Eliott’s arms to slacken their hold until he’s able to flip to face the couple at the door. He collapses back into the pillow at the sight of them, burrowing into the covers. It allows Eliott to reposition spooning him from behind, immediately burying his nose in the back of Lucas’s neck, inhaling deeply.  

“Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here?”

Eliott chuckles, raising his head in time to see Idriss’s mouth drop open as he gapes at them, looking for a moment like he’s at a loss for words. “Us?!”

“Mmm,” Lucas hums, reaching to pull the arm Eliott has wrapped around his waist up until it hugs his chest, and he laces their fingers together. “S’early.”

“It’s really not,” Manon disagrees with a soft laugh. It occurs to Eliott that he actually has no idea what time it is, but judging by Manon’s response and the quality of light filtering into his room, they’ve more than slept in. Eliott can’t bring himself to care, having no intention of allowing Lucas to leave bed any time soon.

“You two really have no shame, hunh?” Despite his words, Idriss’s tone is saturated with affection.

Eliott presses a kiss to the back of Lucas’s head, squeezing him closer. “Why should we have shame?”

“Your door is open.”

Eliott rolls his eyes. “We’re not doing anything. We’re just snuggling. We were sleeping.” And he’s starting to resent having his morning-after cuddles interrupted – whether that’s his fault for leaving his door open or not.

“Yeah?” Idriss raises an eyebrow, gesturing to where they lay entwined. “You gonna tell me you’ve got something on under those covers?”

Eliott frowns, suddenly all too aware that the only thing preventing Idriss from seeing Lucas naked is the barrier of his much too inadequate covers. “Stop thinking about my boyfriend naked.” Lucas snickers quietly in his arms while Idriss makes an irritated sound to cover for the way he was absolutely about to laugh.

“Idriss needed to pick up a couple things, then we’re going for lunch. We wanted to see if you’d like to join us,” Manon says, interrupting what was likely to be an extended sparring match between roommates.

Eliott pauses, looking down to where the boy in his arms lays snuggled into the pillow. Lucas turns his head slightly to meet Eliott’s eyes. And while they both could probably do with some food, there’s no doubt they agree on Eliott’s not-leaving-bed-any-time-soon plan. Lucas blinks slowly, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip and a rush of heat spreads through Eliott’s body, collecting in his balls.

He looks back up to the couple in his doorway. “Bring us back something?”

Idriss doesn’t look surprised that they have no intention of joining. He doesn’t look impressed by the request either. “And – what? Serve you in bed?”

Eliott smirks. “You suggested it.”

“Yeah, I’m not risking walking in here and getting an eyeful of your bare ass,” Idriss scoffs.  

“You’ve seen it before.” It’s only the truth what with them being roommates and Eliott’s inclination for walking between his bedroom and the bathroom naked, but it doesn’t occur to him that there is someone in the room who might object to said fact.

“Hey,” Lucas protests, shoving an elbow into Eliott’s stomach as he rolls onto his back with a pout.

Eliott grins down at him, threading a hand into his unruly hair, beyond charmed by the thought that Lucas could be jealous. Jealous of Idriss, of all people. “I promise he didn’t enjoy it at all.”

“Really didn’t,” comes Idriss’s agreement.

“We’ll bring you back something,” Manon says, sounding amused. Eliott can’t be bothered to drag his eyes away from Lucas to confirm as much. She and Idriss say something more, likely speaking to one another, but their voices fade into a background din as Eliott stares down at Lucas.

They’re both done listening.

Eliott is somewhat aware of Manon and Idriss leaving. He holds himself propped on one elbow and drags his fingers through Lucas’s hair.

Lucas’s hands move to Eliott’s chest, fingertips drawing shapes on the skin as his eyes track their motions.

“Will you get more tattoos?”

The question takes Eliott by surprise. He looks down to where Lucas is tracing one of the tattoos on Eliott’s shoulder.

“Probably.” He looks back to Lucas with a quirked smile. “Gotta have something in my back pocket for when you’re mad at me.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, pinching the skin beneath his fingers. “Gonna run out of space.”

Eliott breathes a soft laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his insolent boy’s nose. “So sure I’m gonna annoy you, hm?”

Lucas scrunches his nose as he nods, tapping a finger against Eliott’s jaw. “You’re very annoying.” It’s a claim he’s been making from the moment Eliott first approached him. It’s never felt like criticism. It’s always been something more.

A peaceful silence settles between them as Lucas’s finger drags up and down Eliott’s chest. He’s tracing a word, fingertip brushing across Eliott’s skin with something like reverence. Eliott recognizes its shape immediately.

Love.

Eliott lets the knowledge settle into his chest, swelling with each heartbeat until he feels he might burst with it. “Fell for me anyways.” He tugs playfully at Lucas’s hair.

“I’m very dumb.”

Eliott exhales a surprised laugh, delighted by this impudent boy he gets to claim as his.

“What about you?” He asks after a moment, brushing his thumb along the arch of one of Lucas’s eyebrows. “Gonna get tattoos for me when I’m mad?”

Lucas shakes his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Gonna get more tattoos. Not for you though.”

Eliott drags his thumb down and over Lucas’s lips. “No?”

“Don’t need to.”

Eliott forces his attention away from the all-too-tempting sight of Lucas’s mouth to look back to his eyes, curiosity getting the better of him. “Why?”

Lucas blinks slowly, long eyelashes sweeping against his cheeks, “You’re easy for me.”

Eliott freezes for a moment with surprise before he chuckles. He never been able to disagree, though he fears for his future self’s ability to ever say no to Lucas when said boy is so keenly aware of his own power.

There’s no need to acknowledge the truth of Lucas’s statement. “Where will you get them?” He asks instead, rolling until he’s directly on top of Lucas. He shuffles until Lucas spreads his legs enough for Eliott to sink between them. Eliott knows he doesn’t imagine the way Lucas’s breath hitches in his throat as their lower bodies press together, warm with sleep, dicks still soft though Eliott doubts that will be for long with the way Lucas is looking at him.

“Dunno,” Lucas says after a moment. “Maybe here.” His hand smooths over the tattoos on Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott smiles, pleased. “Like them, do you, baby?” Lucas’s reaction to the pet-name is immediate, a shiver rushing through his body, hips twitching up and into Eliott, a flush of pink instantly glowing high in his cheeks. The sight is captivating.

“It’s –” He swallows, words hoarse and affected. “It’s ok.”

Eliott hums, leaning down to press a kiss to Lucas’s shoulder. There’s a slight bruise forming under the skin, likely a result of the previous days paintball antics. Eliott hovers over it for a moment, lips barely brushing the skin, before he trails them towards Lucas’s neck, listening with satisfaction at the way the other boy’s breathing becomes more laboured.

“Where else?” He stops when his lips meet Lucas’s pulse point. “Here?” He breathes hot against the skin as he awaits an answer.

“No.” Lucas has both hands on Eliott’s shoulders, and his nails bite into the skin when Eliott sucks lightly on the spot.

“No?” Eliott presses a kiss to the marked skin, delighting in the way he can feel Lucas’s rapid pulse beneath his lips.

“Not – not gonna get a neck tattoo,” Lucas responds, voice too affected to properly capture the mocking he’s trying to convey.

Eliott hums, dragging his lips lower until they press to Lucas’s chest just above his nipple. “Here?”

Lucas’s hands tangle in Eliott’s hair, and his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“May- maybe,” he stutters, hands twitching as Eliott moves lower still.

Eliott doesn’t bother to shove off the covers, moving beneath them instead. Lucas is straining to keep his eyes fixed on Eliott and his abs contract with the effort. Eliott traces the shape of them with his tongue, pausing to nip and suck at the slight swell of belly beneath Lucas’s bellybutton. “And here?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas breathes, one hand tight in the strands of Eliott’s hair, the other at his side, twisting in the blanket.

“Yeah?” Eliott isn’t sure if Lucas is aware of the question he’s answering anymore. His dick has fattened between them, plumping in time with the growing need reflected in his gaze. Eliott holds himself aloft with one hand pressed to the mattress next to Lucas’s hip, moving the other to smooth up Lucas’s inner thigh, until he can press his thumb to Lucas’s groin, just next to the sparse hair collected at the base of his dick. “And here?”

Lucas is panting now, applying slight downward pressure to the hand in Eliott’s hair in a suggestion Eliott isn’t even sure he’s aware he’s making. “Don’t – don’t know.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against the heated skin. “No?”

Lucas shakes his head, looking a little wild now. “You should check.”

Eliott tips his face back down, brushing lips back and forth against Lucas’s lower belly, speaking heated words into the skin. “Check?”

Lucas swallows with an audible click. “That it’s good.” His dick is half-hard under Eliott now. “A good spot.”

“Yeah.” Eliott smirks, continuing his journey down Lucas’s body. “Guess I better.”

Eliott is aware of very little after that. There’s warm, pulsing skin beneath his lips, his beautiful boy making delicious noises, and… oh… the sound of his bedroom door being slammed shut… Lucas’s laughter.

And there’s one thing Eliott knows with absolute certainty in that moment: He’d tattoo Lucas’s name on his ass and forehead in a heartbeat if requested.

No need to fear a forever tattoo when the boy wiggling in his hands is just as permanent. He’s the most precious thing in Eliott’s life. Eliott plans to spend a lifetime making sure he knows it.

* * * * 

Notes:

I know I wrote it but, like...

They're in love...

I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it! I won't say bye just yet because... epilogue. I'll get it up as quick as I can! ❤️️

Chapter 11: Epilogue

Notes:

Welp... here it is. The epilogue. I told myself from the beginning of writing this story that it didn't need one. But my brain had other plans. And I'm so glad I let her do her thing because I ended up really loving this. I hope you will too!

Eliott sighs as he and Idriss approach the building, watching as Lucas struggles under the weight of a box in the distance.

“I thought you said they were waiting for us?” Idriss asks.

Eliott shakes his head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watches Lucas drop the box back to the cement, kicking it for good measure, his pout clear to see even from a distance.

“He’s stubborn,” Eliott explains and doesn’t bother trying to keep the affection from his voice, “and he’s used to doing things on his own. Doesn’t like relying on other people.” When Lucas had asked if Eliott and Idriss would come to help him move into the flat soon-to-be-roommates Yann and Lucas had secured, he’d done so under the guise of teasing. He’d claimed Eliott would do anything for him (true) and wanted to spend all his time glued to Lucas’s side anyways (also true), so if that was the case, he might as well tag along while Lucas moved. Eliott had assumed Lucas sincerely needed help with what was sure to be a big and emotionally-daunting move – his first out of his family’s home– and had easily agreed. Even so, he’d had a suspicion that asking for help had been hard for Lucas to do and there was a very good chance he was more than likely to attempt doing everything himself before help ever arrived. It’s why Eliott had arrived early with Idriss and yet here his boy was… struggling with boxes too big and too heavy for him in a vain attempt to prove he could do it all. Whether this was something he needed to prove to himself or to others, Eliott was less sure.

Idriss hums, glancing sideways at Eliott as they get closer. “Calm him down, yeah? I’ll grab the bigger stuff.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow, letting his mouth pull up into a smirk. “Just what are you suggesting I do, Idriss?”

Idriss huffs a laugh, reaching to punch Eliott lightly in the shoulder. “Nothing, you whore.” Eliott snickers. “He seems stressed. You’re the boyfriend. Calm him down.”

Eliott’s chest fills with happy heat at the title: boyfriend. He’s not sure when he’ll get used to other people referring to him as such. The first time Lucas had introduced Eliott as his boyfriend, it had been to one of Lucas’s professors, and Eliott had immediately lost all ability to speak. He’s fairly certain that professor still thinks he’s an idiot and Lucas is far out of his league. On the latter, Eliott won’t disagree.

“I can do that,” he assures Idriss, grinning as Lucas notices them.

“I didn’t say fuck him in the back stairwell.”

Eliott exhales a surprised laugh. “What makes you sure I’m thinking about doing that?”

Idriss rolls his eyes. “When are you not thinking about fucking the kid?” He has a point.

“Well, you should have clarified that when you made the original request,” Eliott says, mostly just to annoy his friend, though now that Idriss has got him thinking about it…

Idriss scoffs, but he’s not given the chance to come up with a retort before Lucas is walking towards them. “Hey, Idri.” He looks to Eliott with narrowed eyes and a put-upon frown. “You.” It’s all faux-bluster and annoyance. He’s adopted his go-to expression when trying not to show exactly how happy he is to see Eliott.

Eliott’s smile widens. “Hi, baby. You look good.” He does. It’s only been two days since they’ve seen one another – a forced absence due to Lucas’s insistence that he had to finish packing for the move and Eliott would be a distraction – but it was two days too long as far as Eliott was concerned. Lucas is wearing a basic white t-shirt that clings to the sweat already accumulated on his upper body, the cotton transparent in patches. His hair is already a mess, the strands wild atop his head likely a result of Lucas’s hands running through them over and over again, a habit that usually accompanies him being nervous or stressed. Eliott imagines in this case it’s a combination of both. Having packed most of his clothes he'd been forced to wear an older pair of jeans, something he’d complained to Eliott about over the phone the night prior. Eliott had comforted him by suggesting it was a good idea to wear jeans he wouldn’t mind getting a little messy in a move. What he hadn’t taken into account was the possibility that those jeans would be too small on Lucas, hugging his thighs in a way that only makes Eliott think of the last time they were straddling his waist… Eliott’s hands gripping the meat of them, fingers digging into the muscle as Lucas rode him, fucking himself on Eliott’s cock like he’d been born to do it, Eliott trying desperately not to come as he’s stared up at his boy in wonder. And the sounds Lucas had made –

“You’re early.”

Eliott welcomes the interruption to his runaway thoughts. Lucas is looking at him with an eyebrow raised, like he knows exactly what Eliott is thinking. He probably does. Eliott swallows, willing himself to speak as though he wasn’t just picturing Lucas naked. “Had a feeling you might get started before we got here.”

Lucas’s eyes him speculatively. He’s trying to decide if Eliott has him figured out. Eliott does, but this is something Lucas is still getting used to. Eliott widens his eyes just slightly, projecting innocence. Satisfied with what he sees on Eliott’s face, or simply too overwhelmed to give it any more thought, Lucas turns to the boxes collected behind him.

“Everything’s labeled,” he explains, and indeed Eliott can see that each box has been neatly labeled with what room it belongs to and what items it contains. It’s a level of organization Eliott will never understand, but a quality he does appreciate in his boyfriend. “Uh,” Lucas runs a hand back through his hair, the nerves he’d been doing a good job masking when greeting them, suddenly plain to see. “Some stuff is kinda heavy, and um, I’m not really sure what should go first. Yann is already up there. Bas, Arthur, and the others won’t get here for a couple hours. And, like, my dad just dropped everything off and left...” Lucas isn’t looking at either of them as he speaks, eyes flitting about the boxes collected on the pavement. “We’ve been leaving stuff here while we bring everything up. I don’t know if we should but –”

“It’s all good,” Idriss interrupts Lucas’s anxious ramble, moving to lift the box Lucas had been struggling with when they’d first approached. He does so with ease, looking back to Lucas with a kind smile. “Don’t stress it, Lulu.” Eliott frowns at the nickname, something Idriss had picked up from Yann and decided he liked. It is a cute nickname, and Lucas obviously doesn’t mind it, but Eliott isn’t quite sure how to feel about his best friend’s newfound appreciation for how adorable Lucas is or how fitting the nickname. Idriss might be straighter than a ruler and in love with Manon, but if anyone was going to have a straight boy questioning their sexuality… it was Lucas. “We’ll get it done,” Idriss continues. “Then we’ll order some pizza and chill, yeah?” He waits for Lucas to nod and return his smile. “Manon’s up there too?” Lucas nods again and Idriss gestures with his chin to a smaller collection of containers piled on top of the boxes. “Pop a few of those on top.”

Lucas scoffs but does as told, taking two of the smaller containers and placing them side-by-side on top of the box Idriss already holds. “You know you don’t have to impress her. She’s already sleeping with you.”

Idriss wiggles an eyebrow with a grin. “Doesn’t hurt to try.” He winks and turns, walking towards the building as though the items he carried weighed about as much as a stack of feathers.

“He’s like… stupidly strong,” Lucas says, focus still on Idriss.

Eliott narrows his eyes as he studies Lucas’s profile. Lucas’s tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip.

“Alright!” Eliott claps his hands together and turns, making his way around Lucas to examine the boxes. He settles his hands on his hips. “Which is the heaviest?”

“What?” Lucas asks, sounding genuinely perplexed as he comes to stand next to Eliott.

“The heaviest,” Eliott repeats with eyebrows raised as he looks to Lucas at his side. He jerks his chin towards the boxes. “Books or something. I’ll take it.”

Lucas stares at him incredulously before abruptly laughing. He reaches to shove Eliott’s shoulder. “Are you seriously trying to one-up, Idriss?”

“What?” Eliott questions. He might be pouting. “I can. He’s not that strong.” That is most definitely a lie and they both know it, but Eliott is strong too. Lucas just needs a little reminder.

Lucas laughs again but this time he turns and steps into Eliott’s space, hands moving to tug at the front of Eliott’s shirt. “You’re going to kill yourself trying to show-off because you’re jealous? Of Idriss?” Lucas seems delighted by this fact.

“I’m –” Eliott was going to finish with ‘not jealous’, but something about the way Lucas is staring up at him stops the words from coming. He looks sweet and hopeful, like Eliott being possessive over him isn’t something he ever expected. It takes Eliott totally by surprise sometimes how the grip of Lucas’s past still makes him doubt himself – doubt his importance in Eliott’s life. How he still searches for reassurance in the little things Eliott does, in the little things he says. “Jealous,” Eliott finishes instead, mouth quirking into a slight smile. He brings a hand up to Lucas’s face, brushing a thumb over the heated skin of his cheek. “Can you blame me?” Lucas most certainly understands, having fallen victim to a recent bout of jealousy when Eliott had offered to ask Bastien if the other man would be free to help with the move. Eliott’s reasoning had been that Bastien was a friend, and it would help to have another strong person present to haul boxes when Lucas and Yann’s building had no elevator and their flat was on the fourth floor. Lucas, however, had responded with a ‘NO!’ so loud, Eliott was certain his neighbours had heard it. At the time, Lucas had refused to admit he was jealous of the tattoo artist, though it had been as obvious as Eliott’s glee in response, reasoning that they had plenty of help and there was no need to reach out to Bastien. Eliott had promised Lucas he wouldn’t.

“It’s Idriss,” Lucas says with a snort, and Eliott is at least comforted by Lucas finding the idea of he and Idriss linked in anything but platonic bro-ship ludicrous.

Eliott hums, not particularly interested in discussing his best friend further when he has Lucas in his arms. He moves his hands to Lucas’s hips, pulling him closer. “Why didn’t you wait for us?”

Lucas shrugs, eyes falling to where his hands rest on Eliott’s chest. “I needed to do something. My dad just left and…” He trails off with another shrug.

Eliott exhales a heavy breath through his nostrils, bringing one hand up to comb a few strands of sweaty hair back from Lucas’s forehead. “It was bad? With him?”

Lucas swallows before dropping his forehead to rest against Eliott’s chest. He speaks quietly, words weighed down by a kind of grief Eliott will never fully be able to understand, having never been burdened with a parent like Lucas’s dipshit of a father. “It’s always bad with him.”

Eliott presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I thought you said he was ok with you moving?” What Lucas had actually said was that his father ‘didn’t give a shit’ and probably wouldn’t notice when he was gone, but Eliott isn’t about to repeat the words, knowing that despite Lucas’s indifference when speaking them, the reality of his strained relationship with his father was something that hurt him more than he’d ever let on.

“He thinks I’m the reason Daphne’s moving.”

“Ah,” Eliott breathes, understanding now. “Blames you for her leaving.” Lucas nods, head moving against Eliott’s chest. “Daphne though… she’s happy?”

Lucas hums. “Yeah. Think that pisses him off even more… that we’re both so happy to leave him. Have our own lives.”

Eliott exhales heavily, not sure how to best comfort Lucas in a situation so fraught with complex emotion… and history. “I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t care,” Lucas says with a sigh, tilting his head back to look at Eliott. “He’s an asshole.” There’s a stubborn tilt to his mouth, as though he’s trying to convince himself.

Eliott smiles a little sadly, cupping Lucas’s face in one hand. “You’re still allowed to be sad.”

Lucas’s eyebrows pull together. “But I’m happy I’m moving. I can’t wait to live with Yann.”

Eliott nods, aware of this fact, having been there when the two friends had giddily decided on the arrangement. Lucas’s happiness had helped appease Eliott’s own regret at not having asked him first. But he’d reminded himself there was no need to move so quickly. They had time. Eliott could wait. “You can be happy and sad. Change is always hard.”

Lucas reflects on this, nodding his head just once after a moment. “Today though… I want it to be happy.”

Eliott smiles. “Then we’ll make it happy.” He squeezes Lucas’s waist with the hand not caressing his face. “From right now, right this second, it’s a happy day. A good day.”

Lucas smiles, close-lipped but genuine. He turns his face to press a kiss to the palm of Eliott’s hand. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat, gestures like this from Lucas just rare enough for Eliott’s heart to skip a beat every time he’s gifted with such unguarded affection.

“Does that mean you’ll do all the heavy lifting?”

Eliott frowns. Does Lucas doubt he can? “I told you I would.” He considers this for a moment before raising an eyebrow and adding, “Pretty sure one of those rumours about me involved doing some heavy lifting. Already proven myself.”

Lucas’s eyebrows pull together as he files through the various rumours he’s heard about Eliott before he asks, “Which rumour?” as Eliott knew he would.

Eliott smirks. “Porn star.”

Lucas snorts. “A heavy lifting porn star? Is it porn or construction?” He’s playing delightfully into Eliott’s hand.

“You’d be surprised what you weigh with that ass of yours, baby.”

Lucas blinks, momentarily stunned. “You –” He breaks into a wide smile, shoving knuckles into Eliott’s stomach. “You idiot.” There’s a definite laugh he’s holding back. Eliott hums, smugly pleased, and leans forward to softly bump their noses together. Lucas’s hands move to Eliott’s biceps, squeezing, his smile smoothing into something more serious as he exhales a shaky breath. “Tell me something true.”

Eliott tilts his head back, surprised. “About me?”

Lucas nods. “Not a rumour. Something real.”

Eliott’s eyes sweep over Lucas’s face as he considers what to share – something his boyfriend doesn’t already know, something important. Something that might seem insignificant to anyone else, but something that matters to Eliott. Something he wants Lucas to know. “When I was ten, I thought if I scrubbed hard enough I could erase all my moles.”

Lucas’s mouth parts with surprise. “You…” He doesn’t seem to know how to formulate a follow-up question and Eliott takes pity on him by continuing.

“This boy at school kept pointing at them. Said they were ugly, and I should scrub them off.” He shrugs. “So, I tried. Hadn’t hated them before then.”

Lucas’s eyes drop to where Eliott’s arms are draped around his waist. He moves one hand down to skim fingers along the skin of Eliott’s bare forearm, tracing a path between a few barely-there moles. “I thought you didn’t care what people think.” His eyes flick back up to meet Eliott’s. “Really didn’t care.” Unlike himself, he means.

Eliott shrugs. “I was a kid. If he’d told me he didn’t like my hair, I probably would have shaved it off.” Lucas snickers quietly, eyes dropping back down to Eliott’s arm. “When my mom found me, I’d scrubbed my skin raw, but the moles were still there.”

Lucas caresses his skin, smoothing a hand up and down Eliott’s forearm. “What did she say?”

Eliott smiles as he thinks back on the moment. “She said they were like stars. They were special. And if I looked hard enough, I’d find pictures – stories – just like we could with constellations in the night sky.” Lucas’s eyes flick back to him, filling with the same wonder Eliott recalls at ten years old as he’d stared wide-eyed at his mom. He’d remembers feeling warm… safe.

“Did you try to find them?” Lucas asks, sweetly earnest. “The pictures?”

Eliott nods, dropping his eyes to his tattooed arm. He turns it a little, displaying the tattoos scattered across his skin. “I used a marker. My mom helped me.” He looks back up, meeting Lucas’s eyes which have stayed fixed on him. “It’s where I got my love of tattoos.” Lucas’s mouth parts but he doesn’t say anything. He looks shocked, maybe a little awed. Eliott grins. “Something true,” he repeats, satisfied.

Lucas kisses him. He moves so quickly, all Eliott can do is let himself be kissed. Lucas’s hands are on his face, his grip insistent, as he mashes their mouths together. He puts everything he’s unable to say into his kiss. Eliott can feel the words against his lips, gentle words, loving words, the emotion behind them spurring the force of Lucas’s kiss.

Eliott would have let it continue forever. He would have let Lucas kiss him for as long as his beautiful boy needed – until there was nothing left to say. Until their bodies had said it all. But despite feeling like they’re the only two people in the universe, Yann’s voice calling out to them as he approaches with Idriss at his side, is an unfortunate reminder of the presence and demands of others.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Yann says with a laugh. Lucas jerks back at the sound of his voice. Eliott is hard pressed not to chase his lips, the presence of others never something he’s considered an obstacle as far as kissing Lucas is concerned. “You’ve got us doing all the work while you two makeout.” Yann and Idriss sport identical grins as they reach them.

Lucas rolls his eyes, stepping out of Eliott’s hold as he turns to face their friends, looking only a little flustered. Eliott reluctantly lets his hands drop back to his sides. “You carried pillows, Cazas. Don’t even start.”

Yann shrugs, smiling without shame. “Needed to be brought up there, yeah?”

Idriss chuckles as he squats next to the boxes, lifting one. “You can do better than that, bro.” He hands the box to Yann, who to his credit, takes it without complaint and with only a little strain evident on his face. Idriss turns back to collect his own box, glancing to Eliott as he does so. “You really gonna miss a chance to flex for your boy?” Sometimes he knows Eliott too well.

Lucas snickers, watching as Idriss and Yann make their way back towards the building, before he looks to Eliott with an eyebrow raised, cheeky smile in place. “Yeah. Gonna miss a chance to flex for me?”

Eliott sighs, knowing he’s powerless in the face of such a smile. Besides, the goal had been to flex for his boy. Maybe it’ll win him more kisses. Eliott likes his chances. “You promise to say I’m hotter than Idriss?”

A bark of laughter bursts from Lucas and he shakes his head, the affection in his eyes plain to see. “You are hotter than Idriss.”

A flame flickers to life in Eliott’s chest and it takes all of his self-control not to throw Lucas down on a box and kiss him until both of their lips are puffy and raw.

“In front of Idriss,” he says instead.  

Lucas scrunches his nose, looking adorably skeptical. “It’ll just sound weird if I do that – like I mean the opposite.” Eliott doesn’t like the sound of that at all. Idriss would definitely take advantage of an opportunity presented to him like that.

He frowns. “Don’t say it then.”

Lucas’s expression softens and he steps back into Eliott’s space, tipping his face up until their lips meet once more in a kiss, this one absent the demand of the last, gentle and slow. Eliott doesn’t hesitate to match the affection, arms moving to wrap around Lucas’s shoulders as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the soft press of their lips together. Lucas pulls back before too long, a hand pressed to Eliott’s chest preventing him from diving in for more. Eliott exhales a sound of unhappiness, not nearly satisfied. Lucas smiles, pecking a quick kiss to the tip of Eliott’s nose in a placating gesture.

“We need to help,” Lucas reasons. “They’ll never let us live it down if they do all the work.” Eliott supposes Lucas has a point and with a sigh, he reluctantly releases his hold on his boyfriend, turning back to the boxes.

“Fine. Sooner we get this done, sooner we can christen the place.” He glances back to Lucas with a smirk.

Lucas snorts. “Yann made me promise not to have sex anywhere but my room.” Eliott shrugs. Sex with Lucas is sex with Lucas, no matter when and where. He doesn’t see a problem with that, though he does doubt they’ll keep their word. Eliott can’t be blamed for that when Lucas insists on being stupidly sexy at the most unassuming of times. Like when they’re cuddled on the couch together and Lucas does that happy little hum of contentment… or when they’re in the kitchen and Lucas hops up to sit on the counter, evoking full-sensory flashbacks to the sight of him spread on it naked… or when they’re in the bathroom before bed and Lucas insists on talking as he brushes his teeth and spit and toothpaste dribble down his chin… or when they’re walking in the door of the flat and Lucas bends over to take off his shoes…

“We’ll get your bed set up first.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Like that would stop you. You’d just fuck me against the wall… bend me over a box and fuck me from behind… or take me right on the floor.” He says all of this without looking at Eliott, perusing the boxes as though he were talking about a topic as dry as their contents. He’s absolutely done it on purpose and Eliott has never loved anyone more.

Eliott moves behind him, draping himself over Lucas’s shoulders, being sure to press his very interested dick against the shapely curve of Lucas’s ass in his too-tight jeans. “I’ll do anything you want.” He presses his lips to the shell of Lucas’s ear, enjoying the way it makes the boy in his arms shiver. “Anywhere you want.”

“Anything?” Lucas repeats, turning his face to look at Eliott with slow blinks. Eliott is helpless against him. They both know it. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Anything.”

Lucas twists out of his hold, moving next to a box which he pats firmly.

“Carry this box.” BOOKS is clearly written on the side, alongside the word HEAVY which is underlined three times. His boy is a menace.

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “Thought you said I didn’t need to prove myself by carrying the heaviest box?”

Lucas shrugs. “You don’t.” He looks so much happier and more relaxed than he had when Eliott and Idriss had first arrived, Eliott finds it hard to hide his own matching happiness.

“But?”

Lucas smiles, looking equal parts cocky and confident. Eliott wants to nibble on his lips. “But you will.”

He’s right but… “You’re so sure?”

“Mmhmm,” Lucas hums, stepping away from the box as Eliott steps towards it.

“Why?” Eliott feels compelled to ask, though it’s something he’s asked a million times before, always with the same outcome, always with the same assurance. Yes, he’s easy for Lucas. He bends to lift the box, huffing with the weight, though he’s relieved to realize it’s not as heavy as he expected, likely only half-filled with books.

“Because…” Lucas begins as he watches him, waiting for Eliott to meet his eyes before he finishes, “You love me.”

Eliott stares, stunned by the answer, though not because it’s untrue. It’s only been a week since Eliott uttered those words: I love you. But he’d done so in the heat of the moment, Lucas’s mouth wrapped around his cock, orgasm licking up his spine. I love you. Oh fuck, Lucas, I love you, he’d moaned before he’d tipped over the edge, spilling down Lucas’s throat. They hadn’t spoken about it after, but it hadn’t been awkward either. Lucas had curled into his arms, and they’d snuggled for the rest of the evening and watched movies. Eliott hadn’t regretted the confession, only the way it had happened, knowing Lucas was unlikely to trust the sincerity of the words when they’d been spoken in the euphoria of orgasm. And while Eliott had already told Lucas he was falling in love with him, and Lucas knows their feelings are unlike anything Eliott’s experienced before, saying those words – believing them – is a step still important to them both.

Eliott looks at the boy before him, so certain of his feelings, it’s no wonder he’d offer them in supplication, chanting them like a prayer as Lucas brought him to the height of pleasure.

“I do.”

A bright smile bursts to life on Lucas’s face, and he turns quickly, reaching to lift his own box, likely trying to hide how happy the words have made him, how much he needed the reassurance. “I know,” he leads the way towards the front doors of the building. Eliott follows. “Kinda obvious.”

“Always was,” Eliott agrees.

Lucas holds the door with his foot, moving back to allow Eliott to enter the building first. Eliott shifts the box in his arms, sweat already collecting at the small of his back as he makes his way into the building and towards the door leading into the stairwell.

“Eliott?”

Surprised by the waver he hears in Lucas’s voice, Eliott turns back to look at him. He doesn’t say anything, only nods and waits for Lucas to find the words.

Lucas still stands near the entrance to the building, a few meters separating him from Eliott. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he swallows before he finally speaks, a surety in his tone, despite the nerves embodied by his posture. “I’m easy for you too.” The words pulse like a heartbeat between them. Eliott can feel them as they penetrate his chest – his heart. Unspoken words are there too. Eliott doesn’t need them. He knows. He knows just as he knows how difficult it is for Lucas to lay himself bare in this way, to trust Eliott to hold those words close, to keep them safe – to keep Lucas’s heart safe.

“I know,” he returns with a soft smile, so unbearably happy he can hardly feel the weight of the box he holds. He lets his smile stretch across his face, waiting until Lucas begins walking towards him, the other boy’s smile slower to grow but radiating a shy happiness Eliott has become accustomed to when it comes to his boyfriend. Lucas stops in front of him and Eliott finishes, “You’re kind of obvious.”

He expects Lucas to laugh. Maybe roll his eyes with a scoff. Instead, Lucas’s eyes stay fixed on him, his gaze gentle but focused, his love more present in the way he looks at Eliott than words could ever capture. His lips curve into a soft smile, the worries and sadness of the day stripped from his shoulders, in their place a peaceful serenity that makes Eliott’s claims of Lucas’s beauty seem woefully insufficient.

He’s happy. Eliott makes him happy.

“You’re kind of worth it.”

Notes:

The end 😭

Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, and just being along with me for the ride. It was truly so lovely to interact with you all and I hope I did your kindness justice with this story. I appreciate each and every one of you so much 💖

And a special thank you to Julie whose ability to be such an effective and constant pain in my ass was really the only thing that got me to finish this story 😌. You are a brat to rival Lucas, and I think you're pretty ok ❤️