FIC: For Heroes Fic Exchange and Taki:)

[ashedrake]

Title: Pebbles
Recipient: takhallus 
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Lyle
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 7116
Spoilers: To be on the safe side pretty much all of third season before the finale.
Warnings: Sex. Some swearing. Luke’s 17 and for the purpose of this fic so is Lyle.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al
Also archived at and x-posted to: Heroes Fic Exchange and lyle_style 
A/N: Dear Taki, you asked for fluff, but it may have turned into flangst. Hope you still like. Many thank yous to Gary who betaed this for me and blushed while doing so.
ETA: After the fact, I realized I should probably have included "rimming" in the warnings, since that isn't everyone's cuppa tea. So, yeah, now you're warned - but it's nice rimming.

Summary: Luke wants to make sure they get at least one perfect night together. Lyle just wants to say “I love you”.
For extra schmoopinesss read while listening to this.

***

The pitter-patter of pebbles hitting glass distracts Lyle from the paper he’s trying to finish. He shoves his books aside and jumps out of bed, but before he can get the window open another, larger rock hits it with a thump.

“Okay! I’m coming!” he hisses to the moonlit garden and is rewarded with a dry chuckle coming from behind one of the trees. He closes the window carefully and shuffles into a pair of relatively clean jeans that had been too long for him a year ago.

They’ve lived long enough in Costa Verde by now that he knows the new Bennet home well enough to step around any creaking boards or any of his mom’s oddly placed and fragile ornaments. He tip toes down the stairs, skipping the second to last step, and grabs his bag before slipping into the kitchen.

“Popcorn,” he mumbles, because, well, it’s obvious. He snatches some Skittles and powerbars, too, and fruit and a carton of milk - calsium’s important, his mom keeps saying that and she’s got nothing to complain about the way the milk’s been disappearing lately.

Mr. Muggles opens an eye, little bushy tail giving a half-hearted wag in the vaguely approving way he’s had ever since Lyle became the family member spending the most time in the house. Everyone else is too caught up in their own scary side of life with conspiracies and government agencies and hiding guys in their closets - which seemed fun up until a certain point and then it just became too real. It’s easy to forget that there is normal life out there, with normal problems, no serial killers, nuclear people or electric women. Lyle sometimes wishes he could shut it all away, somewhere he’d never have to think about it again, but the figure waiting for him in the garden means he would never really want to.

“Hey,” a hand rises in greeting, fingers spread and Lyle laughs before locking the door.

“You’ve been working on your bad boy-look,” he grins, hefting the bag over his shoulder and stepping into the shadow under the tree with Luke. He’s wearing the worn leather jacket they’d found at a flea market the week before, but he’s put a bandanna on to keep his curls out of the way, too, and his jeans are torn and stained. It should look like he’s trying too hard. It doesn’t. Luke looks at the world as if he wants to chomp through it and spit out the remains.

“Dude, you know you’re hot for me,” Luke smirks and twists to place a kiss to the corner of Lyle’s lips. Lyle pushes closer and rakes a hand through those curls, holding him in place so he can deepen the kiss. Luke’s flushed when they pull apart, brown eyes near eclipsed by his pupils.

“C’mon,” he whispers. He slips his left arm under Lyle’s jacket, making him jump when cold fingers snake their way inside his shirt and skates over his waist. They walk away from the street, Luke leading him past the factory district and farther away from people

Lyle clears his throat, tightening the arm he’s got thrown over the other boy’s shoulders, trying to steady himself when they get to a mudded path. “Are you gonna take up smoking too?”

“Nah,” Luke scoffs. “Can’t afford them and they’re too much trouble to shoplift.”

“Hmm…” Lyle presses his hand to Luke’s neck, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. “So… What happened to your jeans?”

Luke pushes the hand away, scowl on his pale face. “Nothing.”

“You look like you got into a fight with a bush and lost,” Lyle points out. It makes him uncomfortable whenever Luke’s obviously hiding something from him. He knows so little about what happens to the other boy, where he’s sleeping or what he does for food other than what Lyle gets for him. But this is the first time Luke actually looks as though someone tried to hurt him.

“I said it’s nothing!” he snarls. “I just… Look, can we not talk about this?”

“Okay, yeah, maybe later?” Lyle hooks a finger in one of his belt loops and pulls him back in. They’re pretty far away from any houses by now, just the two of them walking on a narrow path in the moonlight.

“Whatever,” is the mumbled response. There’s the low ruins of an old wall further up, evidence that the place used to be inhabited, and something small and white is lying on top of it - wildflowers tied together with a string. Lyle picks it up.

“That’s weird,” he says. “And a bit creepy in a scary movie kind of way. There aren’t any ghosts or murderers around here that you haven’t told me about? Because if some orchestra starts playing thriller music I’m running the fuck out of here.”

But Luke’s blushing again, cheeks turning red and fists shoved firmly into his pockets. “No,” he clears his throat. “I picked those… for you.”

Lyle stares at him. “You picked me wildflowers? Okay, seriously, are you okay?”

“Shut up, Lyle,” Luke says and tries to grab them from him. Lyle dances back and spins around to keep them out of reach.

“Nuh-uh, finders keepers,” he laughs when Luke latches on to him and tries to hold him down, hands pulling at his arms. He turns within the hold to wrap his arms around the other boy and kiss him breathless. “These are my flowers now, bitch,” he gasps.

Luke scoffs and kisses him back, arms tightening around him, squeezing his ribs together.

“Where did you even find these?” Lyle asks, squirming a bit, holding the bouquet (there’s no better word for it, even though Lyle feels girly even thinking it) up to the light so he can see it better. The flowers are pure white, petals soft and delicate around a light yellow center. They’re beautiful, he realizes, and they look as if they’ve been put together with care. The string of twine around them even has a little bow tied on it.

“It’s what I want to show you,” Luke whispers, eyes lowered. “It’s why we’re here, Mr. Watches-too-many-movies.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles and pulls Lyle with him.

***

They round a corner of the path and suddenly there’s a dark building in front of them. It’s huge as old, abandoned houses go; two stories high, but wide, stretching from one side of the clearing to the other. The windows are mostly intact and staring emptily out at them from white frames on faded red walls, and every part of the clearing is overgrown with white flowers opened to the night sky. There’s not even a trail, it’s as if no one’s been there for years.
“It’s nice, right?” Luke says and walks ahead, wading through the flowers and forcing the door open.

“Right,” Lyle swallows at the shrieking creak the old hinges make and quickly follows Luke inside, clutching his bag and the flowers.

The rooms are littered with broken pieces of furniture and the tattered remains of fabric. It’s all covered in a heavy layer of dust that makes Lyle fight the sneeze working its way up from his tickling throat. There’s no way he’s going to make any more noise than absolutely necessary while he’s here.

Luke walks as if he knows the place, and Lyle can see tracks in the dust that means he - or someone else - has been here before. He leads them into a hallway that’s so dark Lyle barely can see further than the tip of his own nose. He stretches a hand out, making contact with the cracked leather at the back of Luke’s jacket and twining his hand in it.

“Luke,” he hisses and bumps into the wall when he tries to stay as far away from a gaping doorway as possible.

“What?” Luke asks as he stops in front of another door, this one closed firmly to the outside world.

“What is this place? And don’t give me that crap about watching too many thrillers - this is downright scary.”

He can feel Luke’s eyes on him, even if he can’t see them properly, and Luke’s hand - cold again, freezing - isn’t as comforting as it should be.

“This is… just an abandoned place that nobody cares about anymore,” he whispers. “It’s too far away so there’s no one else here, and it’s not really likely that anyone’s going to come looking for me here, is it?”

Lyle knows, in an abstract way, that Luke’s on the run from the government like everyone else that’s special, and that’s why he’s living the way he does, staying under the radar. But it’s never occurred to him that it might not be enough; that staying somewhere no one knows he is won’t be enough to make them forget about him. Luke hiding out here, isolated from everyone with a one hour walk to even the outskirts of Costa Verde, in this rundown house that’s really scaring the shit out of Lyle - it makes it all seem more real.

“Are you ready?” Luke asks, pushing at the door handle.

“Ready for what?” Lyle starts to say before his breath catches when he gets a look at the room inside.

There are dark blue curtains in a heavy, threadbare velvet drawn back from the windows to let the moonlight in, which streams over a mix match of furniture - sometimes having a stack of books in place of a missing leg or a board of wood working as a shelf where there should be a drawer, but still stunning in all their brokenness. It smells of dust and old wood like the rest of the house, but every surface has been cleaned and is gleaming as much as it can and overlaying the dusty smell is the sweet perfume of hundreds of white flowers placed in jars all over the room.

And in the middle of the room there are pallets pushed together to raise a makeshift bed of blankets, pillows and Luke’s sleeping bag from the floor. There’s even mosquito netting hanging from the ceiling and down around the bed.

It’s like a scene from a drifter's dream of One Thousand and One Nights. In fact, Lyle thinks with a smile when he sees Luke’s eyes flicking away from him and back again, there’s no “like” about it, that’s exactly what it is.

“It’s perfect,” he says, pushing the door shut and feeling any lingering sense of creepiness fading away.

“So… you like?” Luke smiles.

“I love,” he states and pulls him in for another kiss, licking at his chapped lips until they open and he can slip his tongue inside. They make out slowly while Lyle lets his hand sneak under Luke’s shirt so he can touch the smooth skin of his back in long, gentle strokes and he sighs at the feeling of Luke’s fingers twisting in his hair, nails scratching his scalp lightly.

Luke places one last quick kiss on his lips before pulling away and using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “C’mon,” he says as he digs a box of matches out of his pocket. “Help me light the candles. It’s a fire hazard, but, y’know, for the occasion.”

“There’s an occasion?” Lyle smiles as he moves around the room, finding candles to light everywhere and pushing the curtains shut. He presses his bunch of flowers into a jar next to another bunch, and drops his bag by the bed.

“Mhm,” Luke hums and gets out takeout containers from one of the drawers. They pull the netting out of the way and sit down on the edge of the sleeping bag.

Lyle watches the warm candle light flickering over Luke’s face, sometimes lighting up his features (a cute nose and full lips, dark brows pulled together in a frown) and sometimes casting them in shadows. “Did something happen to you? Tell me,” he hooks his hand around the other boy’s neck and uses his thumb to give a light push to Luke’s jaw, encouraging him to look up and meet his eyes.

Luke sighs and relaxes his body against Lyle’s, letting his head rest on his shoulder. “There’s this old guy who used to sit in the park. He fed the pigeons and talked to them.”

“You knew him?” Lyle asks when Luke falls silent again. He can feel Luke’s jaw working, tightening against his collarbone.

“No, I… He reminded me of someone I knew once, so I didn’t really like him,” and that’s such a Luke thing to say, it’s as if everyone he’s ever known has caused him pain. “We talked this one time, though. He had some food and he got one of the birds to hop onto my shoulders. I called them flying rats. It was cool.”

Lyle thinks for a moment, trying to figure out where the bad part fits in. “Is - he’s not in the park anymore?”

“No, he was there this morning. Like real early and shit, when no one else was awake,” Luke takes a deep breath. “And suddenly there was this van and it was full of agents, and they grabbed him. The birds went mad and started to attack them, but they were pigeons, you know, what were they gonna do?”

Lyle clutches Luke tighter. Agents. In Costa Verde, and they really took someone just like that.

“I was sleeping on a bench and when they started screaming I woke up and actually got up to look. I mean, how stupid can you get, right? Anyway, they saw me and I don’t know if they recognized me or not, maybe they just didn’t want any witnesses, but they came after me.”

“So I’m running like hell - lucky I’d left all my stuff here or I’d have lost it - and clever as I am I manage to end up at a dead end,” Luke lifts a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “An agent came in right after me and I was going to… do something. Burn him, maybe. Boil him in his own skin - I’ve done it before, I’m sorry I haven’t told you, but I’ve killed someone and it wasn’t even in self defense, it was because he tried to…”

“Shh,” Lyle whispers to stop his babbling. He’s not sure he even wants to know what Luke did before they got together; he knows it’s bad and in some ways that’s more than enough. And if Luke starts to tell him all his secrets, then maybe Lyle has to tell him his own. He’s definitely not ready for that.

“Yeah… I was gonna try to do something, when this agent, this guy, he just lowers his gun and takes off his sun glasses, and looks at me. And I swear I’ve never seen him before, but there was something about his eyes, almost like a déjà vu. And here’s the really weird part, where things really start freaking me out, because all he does is say ‘Well now, isn’t that interesting’ in a voice that’s scary as all hell and then he just turns around and leaves. Leaves!” the other boy is trembling by now, but Lyle can’t tell if it’s in fear or anger or just adrenaline. “What the fuck does that even mean? He just let me go!”

“Maybe it because you’re only a teenager?” Only that hadn’t stopped them from trying to take Claire.

Luke pushes away, snarling. “No, that doesn’t matter. If you’re ‘special’ you’re special no matter what your age is. And now they know I’m here, so I need to be more careful. I can’t get into the city much.”

“Look,” Lyle says and grabs his hands. “He let you go, maybe that means they won’t come for you? I mean, what’d be the point?”

“The world’s not like that,” Luke says to their clasped hands. “You can’t just say ‘this is how it’s gonna be’ and lay back to watch it happen. Everyone leaves eventually.”

“Everyone leaves?” Lyle leans down to catch his eyes. “Baby, where did that come from?”

“It’s nothing. It’s…” Luke fixes him with a glare. “It’s just the way things go, okay? And, look at us, either I’m gonna be taken or be forced to run again or get into something stupid or just go insane. And you, your family will probably have to escape again, and how will I ever know what happened to you?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out,” Lyle says and clears his throat. The air seems heavy with emotion and unshed tears. “So I’m guessing those oyster pails aren’t just for decoration?”

“What?”

“Food, Luke,” Lyle smiles. “We’re gonna eat right? Because I’m hungry and if you’re not gonna feed me I have something in the bag that’ll do the trick.”

“No, it’s…” Luke picks up the cartons. “It’s Chinese”

“Sounds good,” Lyle looks at the food. It’s cold but it’ll probably still taste delicious. It won’t be the first time Lyle eats takeout cold. He tries to grab one of the pails, but Luke beats him to it and then raises his hand in a strange gesture, palm open, fingers spread. There’s a beat, the air shimmers and suddenly the food’s steaming.

“That’s so cool,” Lyle whispers and takes the container, feeling the heat seep through.

“It’s alright,” Luke says as he does the same to the rest of the food. “I’ve seen a lot better. What’s the point of being a walking microwave when you could rip apart a building or survive a shower of bullets?”

“No, walking microwave is the best,” Lyle insists even as he accepts a pair of chopsticks. “The only point in being able to heal is if you’re gonna be a serial suicidal cheerleader.”

Luke chortles. “Yeah right,” he says. He struggles a bit with the chopsticks, dropping piece after piece before giving them up in favor of staring forlornly at the food.

“That’s the only double positive in the English language that turns into a negative, you know,” Lyle says before lifting some chow mein to his mouth.

“Uhm, what?” Luke frowns at him.

“Double negatives, right, they always turn into a positive, no matter what - unless you’re watching a gangster movie or something,” Lyle tries to say through a mouthful of noodles. Luke looks no less confused. “But if you’re gonna be grammatically correct it will always end up being a positive. So if you say ‘I ain’t no fool’, what you’re really saying is that you are a fool. But a double positive, like ‘really good’, will always stay positive, too; except in the case of ‘yeah right’, which is a negative,” he finishes with a smirk.

Luke’s giggling. “What the hell, dude?”

“School, man, you should try it sometime, there’s lots of useful information to be had,” Lyle smiles and waves his chopsticks in front of Luke’s face.

“Can I just say ‘Yeah right’ again?” Luke asks and holds Lyle’s chopsticks still so he can steal a bite.

“Yeah, you can, but get your own food, this is mine,” Lyle snatches the chopsticks back.

“But I never figured out how to use these things, it’s much easier if you just give me the food,” Luke whines, something which Lyle is embarrassed to find he thinks is incredibly cute.

“Okay. Chicken?” he places sesame chicken to Luke’s lips, watching his tongue flick out for a quick taste before he opens his mouth to accept it. Lyle shivers when he pushes the food past the other boy’s lips. Honestly, he’s stopped caring about eating, wanting to concentrate on the strange and intimate act of feeding Luke - it’s halfway between being subservient and being dominant, and it’s a hell of a turn on. “You didn’t actually buy these, did you?”

Luke shrugs and looks at him expectantly for more.

“Luke, you’re basically homeless. I don’t want you spending any money on me - you know I can get money from my mom without her being suspicious,” Luke just chews a bit more, staying silent. “…And if you’d like to, I mean, I’d like it if you’d come stay with us. If things are getting dangerous, then you should hide at my house. Then we won’t lose each other; if one leaves, we’ll both leave.”

“Lyle, no,” Luke says, licking at his lips.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Lyle pushes on. “Claire had her boyfriend/whatever staying with us.”

“They’re watching you, Lyle,” Luke meets his eyes seriously and he’s beautiful in the candlelight, dark and warm with the white mosquito net behind him. “Maybe not you personally, because we can pretty much sneak around as we want, but your house and your family.”

Lyle slumps. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not,” Luke grins. “You’re here. Besides I’m not good with parents, your mom would be sick of me by the end of the first week. And don’t worry about the food, I got it from this Chinese lady at a restaurant - she felt sorry for me.”

“You do that lost puppy look pretty well,” Lyle agrees before finishing the chow mein.

“Yeah…” Luke says and then he’s up and digging through one of the drawers again. He hides whatever he finds behind his back and sits back down. “About that lost puppy thing…”

“Oh God, please tell me you haven’t adopted a stray pup or something,” Lyle begs trying to look over Luke’s shoulder.

“No,” Luke scoffs. “But when I was hitchhiking to get down here, I spent a night in this church - Catholic and everything. What? It was cold and do you really think a couple of priests are going to turn away a lost kid?”

“No, but what’s that gotta do with anything other than you using pouting shamelessly?”

“If you’re gonna be a bitch about it,” Luke shrugs and moves whatever’s in his hand away. “Then I don’t need to tell you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Lyle says and wraps his arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. “I know you want to.”

“Hmpf… I told this one guy my name and he gave me this,” Luke holds out his hand to Lyle. “I think you should have it.”

“What is it?” Luke asks and lifts his hand, palm up to recieve the silver chain that slithers down from between Luke’s fingers. A small medallion follows, landing with a soft clink.

“The medal of St. Luke,” Luke looks away. “So you won’t forget about me.”

Lyle holds the pendant up to the light. It’s etched with a long-haired and long-bearded man reading a book and there’s a cow behind him and a staff with a snake twisted around it. But what strikes Lyle is the inscription which says St. Luke and, most importantly, PRAY FOR US.

“Luke,” he sighs and turns to kiss him slowly, licking the sweet sauce from his lips. Luke breaks away for a moment to grab the chain and put it over Lyle’s head. It’s cold against his neck, but light, barely there at all. Lyle can feel the ‘I love you’ working its way out, and he seals their lips back together so he won’t say it, not yet.

“Dance with me,” he begs and pulls Luke up.

“Right, to what?” Luke tries to pull away, but Lyle grins and reels him back in, pushing the jacket from his shoulders and kicking it into a corner.

“It’s called an iPod,” he says and pulls it out from the back pocket of his jeans. He puts one earphone in his own ear and gives the other to Luke. “It’s this wonderful invention that makes music portable.”

“I don’t dance,” Luke protests.

“It’s easy,” Lyle explains as Snow Patrol starts playing. “I take your hand like this and put my hand on your waist like this, and then you put your other hand on my shoulder.”

“Why do I have to be the girl?” Luke grumbles.

“Because the guy has to lead. And see, you already know which part is which,” Lyle teases and steps closer, moving Luke backwards and then to the side in time with the music.

Truth to be told, Lyle’s not really good at dancing either. He took some lessons when he was a kid because it was easier to pick him and Claire up from the same place and Claire really wanted to dance, and that’s the end of his experience with it. It’s mostly all forgotten, but he needs nothing more than the heat of Luke’s body against his, his breath against his cheek and their heartbeats beating together, pendant pressing between them, to remind him what to do.

Anyway, he can’t do any worse than Luke who slouches when he’s uncomfortable, and is by now miraculously almost a head lower than Lyle. His hesitant, nervous energy doesn’t really translate well into dancing; he moves in twitches. Unable to trust Lyle to guide them, he tries to guess where they’re going instead, sometimes getting there ahead of time and sometimes lagging behind.

“Luke,” Lyle says exasperated.

“I told you I can’t dance!” he says and tries to get loose.

Lyle holds him, pressing their bodies together until Luke gives in again and leans back into him. He slips the bandanna off Luke’s head, letting his reddish brown curls spring free and cards his fingers through it to loosen it up. Then he lets his hand slide down to the back of Luke’s neck, holding him there and gently massaging him. He can feel Luke calming under the touch, resting more of his weight on Lyle. “You’re so tense. Can’t you relax just once?”

“No,” Luke mumbles around a smile, contradicting himself by becoming more and more pliant against Lyle. “You relax and you’re dead - or left behind.”

“Not with me,” Lyle says into his hair. “This is me promising; I won’t ever leave you, Luke, not if I can fight it.”

“Hmm,” Luke’s faint laugh hits his throat with a breath. “My savior. My saint.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a St. Lyle before,” Lyle points out. ”But it’s got a nice ring to it, right? I could be the patron saint of Xboxes - and little lost boys.”

“Fuck that, you start caring for any other little lost boys and I’ll give you something to be saintly about.”

“Mmm,” Lyle laughs and starts moving them again, letting their dance flow slowly over the floor. The song goes:

Forget what we’re told, before we get too old. Show me a garden that’s bursting into life. All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes - they’re all I can see. I don’t know where. Confused about how as well. Just know that these things will never change for us at all.

****

When it ends Luke lifts his head and pushes Lyle gently back towards the bed. They fall, but carefully, and lose some time in trying to untangle from the mosquito net, laughing as they pull each other out and push each other’s clothes off. Lyle tries to take off Luke’s pants before his shoes at the same time as Luke grabs at Lyle’s t-shirt and drags it over his head, silver pendant bouncing back to rest against pale skin. It’s a slow, ponderous process that’s more clumsy than it’s efficient, but it’s fun and sexy and by the end they’re breathless with both laughter and desire.

They shove the clothes off the bed and close the net around it, climbing under the sleeping bag. Lyle mischievously gets his hand where he wants it while Luke’s still adjusting the sleeping bag and he's rewarded by a yelp that quickly turns into a moan. He rolls Luke down under him, covering him from toe to chest with his own warm body weight. The hand that’s slowly jerking Luke off takes its time with exploring ridges and hardness and pushing the seeping wetness from the slit around the head of his cock. He can feel his own ears burning, he’s flushed as all hell, but Luke’s hot whimpering little breaths are only making it worse - or better.

He lays a kiss on the fragile skin under each of the other boy’s eyes, lashes fluttering against his lips, before moving down to kiss at his neck. Luke intercepts him, though, and steals kiss after kiss, pushing his tongue into his mouth and fucking it in and out. Lyle can feel his gut tightening at the promise and the memories, and when Luke runs his hands down his back, grabbing at his cheeks and pulling them apart, one finger teasing at his entrance and a thigh pushing up between his legs - Lyle is gone. He comes with a pained groan and a long string of cum that runs down the inside of Luke’s leg.

“Shit,” Lyle gasps and attempts to hold himself up on trembling arms before collapsing on top of Luke.

“Oh yeah, I am that good,” Luke smirks.

“Shut up, I’m seventeen. A breeze blows by and I get an erection,” Lyle moans dejectedly.

“You can deny it all you want. But that right there? That was me rocking your world, baby,” Luke laughs and smacks Lyle’s ass when he blows him a raspberry.

“Okay, first: Ow! And second: Like you’ve never come too early,” Lyle pokes his side before sneaking his hand down again to pull at Luke’s dick, which is even wetter now that it’s been spattered with Lyle’s cum. It makes his own dick throb and he starts moving in restless jerks against Luke’s leg again, pushing at his other knee so he can get better access.

“Oh,” Luke sighs with a shaky exhale of breath. “Mmm, yeah, I guess once. But that wasn’t my fault - the guy was a goddamn cock tease.”

Lyle bites at his lips to make him stop talking. He knows there was someone else before him, but Luke was his first and in a sappy, completely stupid, head-over-heels-in-love kind of way Lyle hopes he’ll be his last - and in-between, too.

“Turn over,” Lyle says and lifts up to give Luke room to move. Luke raises an eyebrow, but complies and rolls onto his stomach, the medallion that hangs down from Lyle’s neck dragging over his skin as he moves.

Pray for us, Lyle thinks. He moves his hands in long strokes up Luke’s back, sliding easily over sweaty skin, before resting them at the top of his shoulders, kneading the muscles where they meet the neck. He places a kiss to the joint where spine slides from back to neck and moves up to bite at Luke’s scruff, inciting a high moan from the other boy. He bites and kisses his way downwards, stopping at intermittent points to lave his tongue over a particular point, lapping up the salt that’s accumulating. At one point he rakes his fingernails down Luke’s sides, feeling the muscles jump involuntarily at his touch.

“Lyle,” Luke whimpers and reaches a hand out for him, relaxing again when their fingers are twined together; a steady, reassuring connection.

Lyle uses his other hand to squeeze one of Luke’s cheeks before pulling it to the side so he can reach his target. It’s still a bit of an impractical position, though.

“Could you spread your legs a bit?” Lyle whispers as he rests his head on Luke’s plump ass.

“Yeah,” is whimpered out and then the trembling thighs go apart as wide as they can. Lyle hums.

“Wait, here,” Luke says and passes down a pillow with his free hand. He raises his hips to let Lyle push it under him and then falls down again. Lyle has to close his eyes before the night becomes even more embarrassing, because the sight of Luke vulnerable on his stomach; head down with his legs spread wide and his ass raised up into the air, his balls and leaking cock pushed back by the pillow and his pink hole on display - it twist Lyle’s stomach in all the good ways.

“Lyle,” Luke whines.

“Yeah,” Lyle agrees and licks his lips, his mouth stupidly going dry. He squeezes Luke’s hand and lies back down between his legs, the hand that had been motionless on his ass pulling it apart again.

Luke chokes down on a yell when Lyle licks over his hole, too-dry tongue dragging at the skin. Lyle bites gently at the pucker while he works up some more saliva, and Luke’s yells turn into sobs. The other boy’s already pushing back at him in want, spreading himself further, and the pink flesh flutters under Lyle’s mouth. He starts laving little kitten licks around it, before Luke’s moans gains a complaining note, and then he pushes quickly inside and out again. He opens him with his tongue, slowly making him wetter and looser, until he can fuck it easily into him and his jaw starts to grow tired.

He pulls back, ignoring Luke’s pleading whimpers, and touches his own swollen mouth. They’d never done that before but if it got reactions like this all the time, Lyle would definitely try it again. Clearing his throat he looks around for the lube and condoms that should be there somewhere.

Luke turns his head from where he has smothered his own face into a pillow, and pops open an eye to look at him. When he gets what Lyle’s looking for he lifts a hand to gesture languidly at the corner of the bed.

Lyle digs out a small bottle and a condom. “Can you roll over again? I want to see your face.”

“I’m comfortable,” Luke mock-grumbles with a lazy grin. “I just have to lie here and let you do your stuff. It’s like having my own personal sex slave or something.”

“C’mon,” Lyle says with a hard poke of his finger to Luke’s hip. He helps Luke, who’s almost boneless with pleasure except the one place that counts, to lie on his back with the pillow still lifting his ass up, and then he pushes his legs back. Luke has other ideas, though, and he hooks them around Lyle’s shoulders, pulling him down as far as he can and then grabbing his head with his hands and kissing him until they’re both panting with need.

Lyle quickly slicks his fingers and grins when the first glides in with no resistance. He teases a bit, brushing barely-there touches over Luke’s prostate, waiting until Luke is pulling at him and snarling and close to sobbing with need - only then does he push in two more fingers, both at the same time, stretching and tiring the muscles that clamps down on them. It’s sweet inside Luke, warm and slick and so tight , and he loses himself in the sensation of fucking the other boy open on his fingers, only coming to when Luke cries out and is heels digs into Lyle’s back. Lyle’s free hand clinches around Luke cock, stopping the orgasm.

He smiles a bit evilly, and a bit lovingly, at Luke’s broken whimpers and hitching cries. Luke’s biting down on his own fist to keep from coming and to stay silent, but his sharp breaths are pushed out of his heaving body as if by force. When Lyle feels the throbbing of Luke’s cock lessen, he frees his hand to run it up a quivering, sweat-drenched stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the inside of the knee hooked over his shoulders. Luke doesn’t look like he heard the words, so he dares to whisper the next ones too. “I love you, Luke. For the rest of my life, I’ll love you.”

Then he bends down, pressing Luke’s legs against his chest. He waits until Luke opens his strange warm brown eyes and looks back at him with something more like full presence of mind. “I want to fuck you now,” Lyle says and licks a long line up his flushed throat. “Can I?”

“Fuck yes,” Luke gets out after a couple of deep breaths. “Let me - I want to…” is gasped out, before Luke gives up and gestures at the condom lying by his hip. Lyle gives it to him and raises himself up so his cock is pushed forward over Luke’s stomach. He marvels at how flexible Luke is; his legs are pointing straight up where they’ve been pushed that way by Lyle’s movements. Lyle curls his hands around the curved calves straining against his collar bones and closes his eyes when he feels Luke’s hands rolling the condom onto him. Then he lets himself be tugged down for a kiss, more feeling than hearing Luke’s exhale of relief as the pressure leaves his legs.

“Hold still,” Lyle smiles and pushes a wet curl out Luke’s face before reaching down between them to line himself up.

He can hear rain starting to pour down from the sky as he pushes inside Luke with one long glide. It falls against the ceiling like thundering drums, but Luke’s drawn out cry is far louder, at least to Lyle’s ears. His, his lover, writhes underneath him, meeting Lyle’s thrusts with his own, fucking himself on Lyle, and there’s now way, no way, Lyle’s going to last. There’s no possible universe where this much pleasure, this much pure joy, can exist for more than seconds.

But Luke’s a painful pressure on him, making him sob with longing and desperation. They’re fucking each other raw, pushing and pulling; Lyle’s cock feeling huge within Luke’s tight body, brushing over his prostate with every move which makes the other boy clamp down even more. Luke’s cock is twitching, moving up and down with their thrusting, leaving thick, wet stains of precum on both of their stomachs. If Lyle could think he’d have wondered what was more of a turn on: that or his own balls smacking against Luke’s ass when he gets all the way in, as far as he can go, and Luke’s mouth falls open in a silent cry as if all the air’s been punched out of him.

Then Luke’s hands are clutching at his head, pulling him down to leave a crushing kiss on his mouth and Luke growls straight into his face: “Come.”

And Lyle’s helpless to disobey, his thrusts falter for a moment before pushing punishingly hard into Luke, which seems to be the cue he’s been waiting for, because his back arches and his hips lifts and his legs pull Lyle even tighter to him, and then they’re both coming together and the medallion is a chain of glittering silver between them and its fucking perfection.

****

Lyle has no muscles left. Like, seriously, he can’t move. Luke whines a bit, which, okay, yeah, understandable since he’s still got his legs thrown over Lyle’s shoulders and is literally folded in half. With a shaky moan Lyle manages to lift himself up enough to let first the one leg then the other slide down from his shoulders. He slumps to the left and lets gravity do the rest in getting him off Luke. They both give heartfelt groans when his cock slips out of Luke’s ass.

He doesn’t know what to feel. It was so much, maybe too much, and it’s like his heart’s going to burst, like he wants to cry and laugh with how much he loves Luke, because he’s lying there, limbs twined with Lyle’s, and he’s fuck dazed and looking so out-of-this-world. Not flawless or even unbroken, but still just right, as if Lyle was made to love him just as he is.

Luke opens his eyes, looks at him for a short moment, and then reaches a hand down to pull off the condom, tie it off and push it out off the bed.

“There’s some paper towels behind you,” he says and they spend some time drying each other off, but Luke doesn’t seem to want to linger and he won’t look at Lyle anymore. Lyle feels his heart sinking.

“Luke?” he asks, hating himself for the tremor in his voice.

“Just go to sleep, Lyle,” Luke says and pushes him down onto the pillow, pulling the sleeping bag up to one frozen shoulder.

Lyle stares at him, wondering what had gone wrong, if he’d been too rough or not rough enough or - then he feels the medallion on his chest, remembers it linking in them together and he sits up again in a flash and grabs Luke to himself, pulling until the other boy gives in and falls against him, his back plastered against Lyle’s chest by their combined sweat.

“Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” he begs, mouth to Luke’s ear.

Luke shivers. “It’s just-“ he stops himself and turns around, pushing Lyle down again and pinning him there by his wrists. “You’re too good. This is too good. When things get this good for me is when everything goes to hell, do you understand?”

Lyle tries to fight the hold, he wants to touch Luke, but Luke won’t let him. “I understand,” he says. “That’s the way it’s always been for you. But it won’t happen with us, not to us. I won’t let it.”

Lyle’s teeth rattle when Luke shakes him violently. “Stop doing that! Stop trying to make everything okay! It’s not! I’m on the run from the fucking government and your family’s being watched and the whole world’s crumbling apart, don’t you get it?”

Luke’s close to crying and when his grip weakens, Lyle pulls him down, moving him until they’re lying face to face. He grips Luke’s hands, brings them up so he can kiss his knuckles. “I get it, I just don’t care as long as the part of the world you’re standing on is okay.”

The other boy stares at him and then they’re kissing ravenously, trying to disappear inside each other. When they break apart again, Luke’s panting heavily and one of his hands is knotted around the medallion.

“I want you to know,” he whispers intently. “That I love you too, I love you.” He leaves another deep kiss on Lyle’s mouth.

“And it’s okay if this ends badly, because at least we’ve had this, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Lyle says softly. “I know.”

They spend the rest of the night listening to the pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof and Lyle makes a silent promise to Luke to do the best that he can - all that he can, no matter what.

PRAY FOR US

-END-

Assignment:
Rating requested (G-NC-17): NC17

Pairings or Characters Requested: Mylar, Luke/Sylar, Luke/Lyle

Prompts requested (please list at least 5; you may request more if you wish):
1. Mylar - phone/IM sex
2. Any - reprehensibly dirty talk, I mean like, whoah
3. Luke/Lyle - Start of relationship
4. Sylar/Luke - First time, slow like whoah
5. Any - Established relationship - fluff to the extreme

What don’t you want your fic to include?: Women lol