Fic: Wet
Title: Wet
Author random_nic
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 985
Summary: Visiting Noah in L.A. for the first time, Luke’s plans for a serious, mature talk about their relationship are derailed... by a tiny piece of red fabric. And the man poured into it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Luke or Noah. Or sadly, that Speedo.
Notes: Written for thehayloft’s October challenge: Dress Me Up.
In the cab ride from LAX, Luke replayed all the things he wanted to say in his head. How they'd both made mistakes, but bemoaning the past wasn't as important as doing better in the future. How six months had been about two months too long. How Luke was ready, and hoped to hell Noah was still waiting.
Minutes after arriving, he finally mustered the courage to knock on the apartment door. Following a few moments of no response, a nearby door opened instead, and the neighbor informed him Noah was probably still down at the pool. Luke thanked the woman, and once again mentally practiced his painstakingly prepared talking points.
That he never meant it when he said they weren't right for each other. That it had been his fear talking then, not his truth. That no matter what had happened, they were always better together than they were apart.
He opened the door to the pool area just as Noah finished his swim. Their gazes met as Noah surfaced; the moment seemed to move in slow motion. As Noah pushed himself up from the water, Luke's wandering eyes couldn't help themselves.
They took in an even harder, more toned body than Luke remembered. They noted the tiny rivulets dripping moist paths over Noah's erect nipples. They appreciated the way the tight red Speedo lovingly hugged Noah there.
As that body neared him, Luke took a deep breath, preparing to recite his heartfelt speech. When Noah closed the distance and stood before him, skin dripping, expression questioning, Luke opened his mouth to speak. What emerged was almost what he'd meant to say.
Except it sounded a lot more like, "Fuck me."
*******************************************************************************************************************************
Noah knew this was a bad idea. It had been six months since he'd left Oakdale. Their communication had been minimal, at best.
It wasn't that they hadn't wanted to talk to each other. It was that neither seemed to know what was okay to say. Noah couldn't say "I love you," could he? Wouldn't that just make Luke, who was mourning another man, feel uncomfortable?
Yes, this was definitely a bad idea. Noah reminded himself of that again as he pushed Luke back into the changing room, touching and palming and pulling away now-dampened clothing as they went. He assured himself that they'd regain their senses any time now, before doing anything they couldn't undo.
It had been over a year since they'd last made love. Naturally, they couldn't just pick up from that point, blatantly disregarding everything that came afterwards. Of course they needed to talk first, about everything that had gone wrong, and how they'd make sure it never did again.
Noah was confident his wisdom on this point was sound. It was just difficult to care with Luke's hand diving into his Speedo. As Luke grasped his growing length and began pumping, Noah struggled to remember why he was supposed to stop him.
When Luke dropped to his knees, pushing aside the negligible fabric to take Noah into his hot, needy mouth, the last vestiges of common sense blissfully evaporated. Noah ran his wet fingers through Luke's now-longish locks, their eyes trained on one another. Luke's lips moved wantonly over Noah, again and again, the intensity of both the pleasure and Luke's gaze nearly causing Noah's knees to buckle.
Suddenly, almost of their own volition, Noah's fingers clenched in Luke's hair, pulling the other man off, and upwards. He saw the flash of fear in Luke's eyes; the silent question asking you don't want me anymore? In response, his hand still clutching Luke's scalp, Noah pulled him close, growling "need you... now."
He didn't wait for a response before crouching down to pull off Luke's sneakers and socks, then push down his jeans and boxers. He got one anyway when Luke returned the favor, pushing Noah's Speedo down his legs. When each man stepped out of his respective attire, they paused for just a moment, each taking in the too-long awaited sight of the other, standing nude and erect and wanting before them.
Then they crashed to the floor together, full speed ahead, with no thought of turning back. They touched, they tasted, they devoured, only slowing briefly when it was time to finally become one again. To finally become them again.
Luke gripped one knee to his chest, and writhed on the ground as the tip of Noah's cock kissed his entrance lovingly; teasingly. Noah pushed forward, perhaps less carefully than he should have given how long it had been, but as cautiously as he was humanly able. Both men gasped as what should have been an entirely familiar sensation still somehow felt amazingly new; somehow, deeper.
They collided and thrust and bucked liked their lives depended on it. Maybe they did. The lives they wanted, anyway.
Each time Noah withdrew, then plunged back home with greater force, both men knew he staking his claim - not just for now, but for good. Luke arched his back with each thrust, attempting to drive Noah in even further. Yet, it wasn't enough. It could never be enough.
No matter how close he was to Luke, Noah wanted more. No matter how far Noah was buried inside him, Luke wanted him deeper still. They both realized they were physically trying to join themselves together permanently, so that nothing could ever tear them apart again.
They raced towards the summit, even while wanting this to last forever. Their frenzied coital dialogue consisted of "I'm sorry"s, and "I missed you"s, and Noah's climactic "I fucking love you!". They floated down from nirvana, sated and sweaty and still clutching, with no plans to let go.
Luke smiled as he lay againt Noah's chest, and considered the carefully composed speech he’d meant to give. Tabling it again for the moment, he answered instead in the truest way he could. “I fucking love you, too.”
Author random_nic
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 985
Summary: Visiting Noah in L.A. for the first time, Luke’s plans for a serious, mature talk about their relationship are derailed... by a tiny piece of red fabric. And the man poured into it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Luke or Noah. Or sadly, that Speedo.
Notes: Written for thehayloft’s October challenge: Dress Me Up.
In the cab ride from LAX, Luke replayed all the things he wanted to say in his head. How they'd both made mistakes, but bemoaning the past wasn't as important as doing better in the future. How six months had been about two months too long. How Luke was ready, and hoped to hell Noah was still waiting.
Minutes after arriving, he finally mustered the courage to knock on the apartment door. Following a few moments of no response, a nearby door opened instead, and the neighbor informed him Noah was probably still down at the pool. Luke thanked the woman, and once again mentally practiced his painstakingly prepared talking points.
That he never meant it when he said they weren't right for each other. That it had been his fear talking then, not his truth. That no matter what had happened, they were always better together than they were apart.
He opened the door to the pool area just as Noah finished his swim. Their gazes met as Noah surfaced; the moment seemed to move in slow motion. As Noah pushed himself up from the water, Luke's wandering eyes couldn't help themselves.
They took in an even harder, more toned body than Luke remembered. They noted the tiny rivulets dripping moist paths over Noah's erect nipples. They appreciated the way the tight red Speedo lovingly hugged Noah there.
As that body neared him, Luke took a deep breath, preparing to recite his heartfelt speech. When Noah closed the distance and stood before him, skin dripping, expression questioning, Luke opened his mouth to speak. What emerged was almost what he'd meant to say.
Except it sounded a lot more like, "Fuck me."
*******************************************************************************************************************************
Noah knew this was a bad idea. It had been six months since he'd left Oakdale. Their communication had been minimal, at best.
It wasn't that they hadn't wanted to talk to each other. It was that neither seemed to know what was okay to say. Noah couldn't say "I love you," could he? Wouldn't that just make Luke, who was mourning another man, feel uncomfortable?
Yes, this was definitely a bad idea. Noah reminded himself of that again as he pushed Luke back into the changing room, touching and palming and pulling away now-dampened clothing as they went. He assured himself that they'd regain their senses any time now, before doing anything they couldn't undo.
It had been over a year since they'd last made love. Naturally, they couldn't just pick up from that point, blatantly disregarding everything that came afterwards. Of course they needed to talk first, about everything that had gone wrong, and how they'd make sure it never did again.
Noah was confident his wisdom on this point was sound. It was just difficult to care with Luke's hand diving into his Speedo. As Luke grasped his growing length and began pumping, Noah struggled to remember why he was supposed to stop him.
When Luke dropped to his knees, pushing aside the negligible fabric to take Noah into his hot, needy mouth, the last vestiges of common sense blissfully evaporated. Noah ran his wet fingers through Luke's now-longish locks, their eyes trained on one another. Luke's lips moved wantonly over Noah, again and again, the intensity of both the pleasure and Luke's gaze nearly causing Noah's knees to buckle.
Suddenly, almost of their own volition, Noah's fingers clenched in Luke's hair, pulling the other man off, and upwards. He saw the flash of fear in Luke's eyes; the silent question asking you don't want me anymore? In response, his hand still clutching Luke's scalp, Noah pulled him close, growling "need you... now."
He didn't wait for a response before crouching down to pull off Luke's sneakers and socks, then push down his jeans and boxers. He got one anyway when Luke returned the favor, pushing Noah's Speedo down his legs. When each man stepped out of his respective attire, they paused for just a moment, each taking in the too-long awaited sight of the other, standing nude and erect and wanting before them.
Then they crashed to the floor together, full speed ahead, with no thought of turning back. They touched, they tasted, they devoured, only slowing briefly when it was time to finally become one again. To finally become them again.
Luke gripped one knee to his chest, and writhed on the ground as the tip of Noah's cock kissed his entrance lovingly; teasingly. Noah pushed forward, perhaps less carefully than he should have given how long it had been, but as cautiously as he was humanly able. Both men gasped as what should have been an entirely familiar sensation still somehow felt amazingly new; somehow, deeper.
They collided and thrust and bucked liked their lives depended on it. Maybe they did. The lives they wanted, anyway.
Each time Noah withdrew, then plunged back home with greater force, both men knew he staking his claim - not just for now, but for good. Luke arched his back with each thrust, attempting to drive Noah in even further. Yet, it wasn't enough. It could never be enough.
No matter how close he was to Luke, Noah wanted more. No matter how far Noah was buried inside him, Luke wanted him deeper still. They both realized they were physically trying to join themselves together permanently, so that nothing could ever tear them apart again.
They raced towards the summit, even while wanting this to last forever. Their frenzied coital dialogue consisted of "I'm sorry"s, and "I missed you"s, and Noah's climactic "I fucking love you!". They floated down from nirvana, sated and sweaty and still clutching, with no plans to let go.
Luke smiled as he lay againt Noah's chest, and considered the carefully composed speech he’d meant to give. Tabling it again for the moment, he answered instead in the truest way he could. “I fucking love you, too.”