Anonymous: Luke as your older brother’s badboy best friend and you’re an innocent virgin (Pt 3) (click for pt 1 // pt 2)
Title: Blow My High
Warning: sexual content, language, drug use, violence
a/n: this isnt good at all…..i wrote it really fast and i didnt edit it so theres probably a lot of spots where i put “you” instead of “your” which im famous for. ignore that, i cant edit it because im tired but i’ll get there
Luke stands with his hot sweaty feet smushed on the white kitchen tile. His toes pop as he flexes them against the ground and then picks up his foot to roll a stiff ankle to loosens the joint. It’s been awhile since he’s stood up, lounging in a beanie bag chair was always more enticing than walking about and actually participating in life.
He handles a single titanium butter knife against the insides of his fingers and his palm and works in into a cardboard container that’s packed with thick vanilla ice cream. Luke digs under and scoops up a small clump, he examines it for a moment and scrunches his face in frustration but plops it into the nearby bowl.
Luke would give himself a ribbon for even taking the time to put it in his own dish rather than eating out of the carton and hearing second hand bitching through your brother, coming from you. Sadly they don’t sell ribbons for that, and sadly he thinks to himself for a moment about he’s never won any type of ribbon in his twenty two years. Not even in typical science fairs. Luke was a geeky kid no doubt, but his brain was wired to the more inventive side, and that isn’t always popular with the masses, especially when adults saw no use in things he crafted. He built hundreds of things from tiny gadgets to enormous structures and compiled them in his small room that he shared with his brothers, and most of them would get crushed and snapped, sometimes by accident, most times not. That didn’t raise his spirits or ambitions to become an inventor or engineer, that alone pushed him farther from what he knew and what kept him busy, and what led him to ultimate happiness. Upon absorbing this incoming reality that he’d never be what he’d hoped for ever since he was around three years old, he went through a small blip of depression. Luke had decided not to talk to any members of his family for a solid week so that he could endure the sadness on his own account , he thought he’d remain tragically talent-less for the rest of his life, caught in some mid fog zone between those who kill everything they touch and those who should be outright detained. Around the age of thirteen, sulking and slumping his shoulders just wasn’t getting him off anymore, he did the whining and the crying and the lack of appetite thing, he did the whole “fail you classes and lose your friends” thing, he bathed in loneliness and all of that romanticized sappy shit until it became massively played out.
What was something he hadn’t tried? Something that would exhilarate him like constructing catapults at one a.m. used to. He wouldn’t find out until walking home after class one afternoon, and actually taking the time to observe what was around him rather than formulating architectural plans until his social functions buzzed. He clunked across the cracked sidewalk with his thumbs in the loops of the strap extenders and squinted up the run down plazas, tagged and leaking and corroding gas stations and convenience stores. His unkempt hair flied off his forehead from gusts of wind and allowed him to actually see without deciphering what was in front of him through clumps of blond strands. There was a large gym like building at the end of the lot that was in clear sight to him like it never had been before. The brick was worn like someone sanded the surface of every single one on the foundation. Splats of hosed up dirt formed at the bottom and up the front entrance. A tail gate garage with a painted logo and littered with guys loitering and holding cigarettes between their lips. At least Luke thought they were cigarettes. He continues walking with his eyes glued on this area, it looked intimidating and formidable. Like somewhere he should steer clear of because he’d never belong and never think about wanting to belong. He admitted to himself though, he couldn’t be more puzzled by the men, some boys around his age even, running black tape around their knuckles and punching their own palm to make sure it wouldn’t move or slide off. Luke remembers seeing them hop around and spit and yell obnoxious things at each other, he remembers the door sliding up with a loud tin rattle and the guys being greeted by a large dude with dark skin and friendly handshake, slapping people’s backs and calling them by their names as he sweeps them all inside and they practically dive onto mats and stand on their solid feet. From what Luke could see from the entrance, the guys were jumping all over the place and shanig their arms and legs out, rolling their neck for good measure. Nothing seemed professional at this establishment, nothing but worn out mats for guys to strip their shirts and stare angrily at their opponent who approach them with the same intentions as the other guy, to beat the living hell out of them.
Now Luke could only ponder so much before the building would be out of sight and he’d be on his way to the apartment, the process in his mind became quicker as soon as one tall guy held his fists up and the other tall guy sprung a solid punch out into his face.
Luke gripped his straps and stopped his feet almost instantly, nearly tripping over a crack but held captivated by the anger that they instilled in each other with every single punch, kick, grab, bending down and diving in to their torso knocking the guy straight off his stance and slamming his sweaty back onto the foam. The crowd cheers around them, yelling loudly and taped fists in the air, screaming for the blood, screaming for the pain, screaming for the fury that two young men can hold within themselves that they didn’t even know was inside.
Realizing Luke would never be an inventor is not the only reason he cried more than the average thirteen year old boy. It was just one card in the built up tower of fucked up things in his life, and that one happened to be pulled first, toppling everything else down with it. But the blame was on the initiator. The blame was on inventing or lack there of. Luke didn’t realize his mother’s abusive and dangerous job, his brothers abandoning him and only coming home when they felt like it, and non existent dad who enjoys slapping his kids around to help pay bills and yank them out of this ongoing slump where it was value menu McDonald’s every night and if you were thirsty, fuck…you get a small cup of water there. Because God knows you can’t drink the water at home and if you wanted something at home, there was beer in the fridge. Take a swig.
What does God even know. Ominous being doesn’t even know that what’s happening to his family and himself wasn’t hardship, it was hell.. And Luke was so fucking angry.
Anger is the foundation of Luke’s mind, sprouting in roots and surfacing up outwardly to the top of skull and he always wondered what that pounding was. Seeing these people…hit…scratch..try and break each other’s bones, might of struck something in him.
Almost immediately, he absorbed the site of grinning bruised faces and slicked with sweat bodies and chests heaving as if something were about to bust through. The way they stood, and walked, and carried themselves, a persona Luke wondered why he lacked.
Because he’s never gotten angry.
And that gets his heart racing thinking about getting angry.
Soon after his realization Luke learned more about this place, was it legal? Probably not. At least not what they did Wednesday afternoons for two hours. No protective gear, no proper techniques. Like fight club, people street fighting inside of a typical boxing gym with no shirts or shoes. Except the limit was tapping out. When someone taps out it’s over, which is somewhat of a safety net but it depends on how much you as an individual are willing to take, it’s not so safe when you let them pound your skull into the concrete. But this is what he wanted, a safer version or a franchised movie that was slightly more ordered but still allowed you to get your aggression out. He wanted to feel alive, he wanted to be beaten up and have fists flying at his spine and ribs and cheekbones to wake him up from this fog that’s been suffocating him since birth, to pull him up and out. He wants to feel narcissistic, he wants to feel like a dick, he wants to hurt people because he’s so damn exhausted of people hurting him.
And so he did. He approached the guy who owned the gym after trying to talk himself out of it, to no avail. Luke is the most stubborn person the guy had ever met, so he said to him after a month of knowing him. Luke quickly gained knowledge and skill, flying his scrawny body across the mats and once or twice knocking someone out with a solid side swipe to their cheek. It was a form of athleticism that he didn’t realized he possessed. He had never been apart of any sport, not only because there wasn’t money that could be divided out to fees and uniform prices…but Luke generally disliked the idea of running around to score some type of points in some type of way, when it wasn’t benefiting the world in anyway and at the end of it all, the only point to it was a faux metal trophy to put on your shelf and stare at.
Maybe that made Luke a little pretentious, and maybe he was. But pressing your feet on the gym floor, half naked, with trembling hands and thick spit getting caught in your throat, really makes you feel a lot more small.
That’s what drove him.
Bruises and gashes.
That’s what made him grin as he stared at himself in the mirror, his head shaved, his jaw prominent, his newly pierced brow and septum, his teeth baring and lip snarling and head nodding at the satisfaction. A punk with busted hands.
After crying for so long, he evolved, he hurt people physically and made them bleed…and he evolved..he sent people to the hospital after coming to the gym at age sixteen, tripping off shit he doesn’t even remember, taping up his fingers and striding past the owner without listening to his words.
“Luke…? Are you okay?”
He sure felt okay, better than okay. Phenomenal. Like trouble in the best of ways, and he wanted to pound someone’s skull in that night. More than he ever wanted to before.
He approached someone, to this day he doesn’t even remember his name. He hooked the kids shoulder and yanked him backwards, slamming him on the ground, fists shooting down, over and over. And he didn’t stop, even after the guy was out cold. And shit, was he invincible that night. So much anger, so much anger. He pictured his father underneath him in that gym, he pictured his father wincing and trying desperately to scream for Luke to stop, but when he did, knuckles came down on his teeth, launching them to the back of his throat.
The cops came and somehow Luke was being slipped out the back door by the guy that owned the place, or thrown out rather. It was a backhanded favor, considering he was screamed at to never ever come back again. Not like he could, the place was almost instantly closed down for the events that took place within it, reckless endangerment, no license for this type of activity, illegal bare knuckle boxing. It was understandable, and thus led to the charges resting on the owner, and thus made Luke drop hard drugs all together.
He became infatuated with pot after his wounds healed and his hair grew back slightly, and his best friend supplied him easily. Your brother.
There was nothing as simple and as least threatening in his life than marijuana, it gradually made him passive once again, but not too passive to the point where he’d forget how to fight. All those skills are still sitting in the back of his mind, and don’t wander to the front unless it’s necessary. Luke didn’t lose his touch with inventing either. Nowadays he angles it to support his dependency and builds elaborate bongs out of steel car parts. The kid will always be good with his hands, whether they’re hitting or constructing, he had immense talent under all that hotboxed smoke. Sometimes…he just forcibly forgets. A technique that’ll never lose it’s lust, something he does every second of every day, because it’s the only way he can hold onto sanity.
“It’s easier if you use a spoon.” You mumble while folding your arms across your chest and leaning against the white kitchen wall near the cabinets. A pulse of panic shoots through his core and causes his heart rate to increase at an unbelievable rate. He yips softly from his lips and fumbles with the knife until it decides to leave his fingers and hit the granite counter. He snaps his head to glance over his shoulder and winces from the loud noise. His fingers tighten around the carton more than they should and squeeze ice cream over the lip.
You stand there and widen your eyes slightly and apologetically. “Sorry…I. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You speak gently as thick cream oozes down his fingers and he slowly removes them and turns his head to look at the mess.
“S’fine.” He looks at the paper towels and rips a single sheet to work around his sticky knuckles. “Erm.” Luke swallows rising spit, about to say something else, trying to pull himself out of previous thoughts that he was floating in only a second ago.
“Too lazy to wash a spoon?” You smile softly and his ears prick with heat, his mind taking the comment the wrong way. He crumples the dirty napkin and pinches the skin between his eyebrows, continuing to turn his head to the side but not fully look at you.
“Why do you assume that?” Luke spits.
Your hands grow clammy against your skin and you instantly second guess coming into the kitchen to have a friendly conversation, maybe it’s too soon to be making jokes with him this way, you had only exchanged a few words earlier. You fumble with your thoughts and try to express them clearly without him hearing something different, since all he’s had towards you was animosity, it was hard to get used to talking. Parting your dry lips and staring at his tense jaw, you stutter. “N-no I m-mean, I do the same thing. I d-didn’t mean to make you feel lazy.” Your scrunch your face in embarrassment and shake your head, glancing at your flip flops. Luke inhales the Pine-sol smell that filmed every surface in the room and tries to relax a bit upon hearing how weak you sounded. He slowly turns to face you and relaxes his forehead, he knew he was a little intimidating and overwhelming, and it wasn’t always a good thing. He just couldn’t process the words you spoke to him, there was a huge gap between the two of you. Luke didn’t exactly want to close it. You’re getting more comfortable. More comfortable, and that made him uncomfortable because he didn’t want this to be a real friendship blooming. A fake one is fine, like a plastic dollar store flower is what he’s trying to aim for until his plans go into full effect and he can get you to be a little less anal. Or…maybe a little more, depending on what you’re willing to do.
He smiles to himself and bites back a chuckle, reaching back and gripping the gallon of ice cream in his full palm without looking and slides it away from the edge of the counter. He needed to direct this where it needed to go before your brother came out of his room at the notice of Luke’s prolonged absence. He pinches the baggy shirt between his thumb and index and airs himself out, nodding at your words. “Sorry.” Luke offers, gurgling it in his throat. “I was being a little lazy.” He steps closer to you, his feet suctioning on the tile and his tongue toying with his piecing absent mindedly. You sink into the wall shyly and keep your head down, staring at his feet. You scrunch your nose at the sight of boy toes.
“I can get defensive.” He tries to bury the hatchet, or at least bury it for now.
You shrug your shoulders and quirk your mouth to the side, feeling the essence of his tall frame sauntering closer and closer, you swallow and look up at the sticky butter knife lying there, making sure not to look straight ahead. You don’t really know how he is, what he’s capable of. All you know is that he ebbs his anger away with cannabis and has beat every video game your brother owns at least twice. You also knew bits and pieces of his home life, he lived pretty far from here, downtown. You’ve never been there, but your brother talks about hanging out with Luke down there and nearly getting mugged. So you made general assumptions that not only was his family messed up, but his environment was even worse. And you realize you shouldn’t judge him, you shouldn’t judge anyone, you’re constantly taught that by your parents and your church group and the bible itself, but something about Luke made you want to break rules and sometimes he can be so…
Too much of himself…you’ll just say that. You couldn’t help but feel dislike towards him, but he was so kind earlier, so forgiving. It took you from a different angle one that you never thought to be possible.
So here you are, curious to see if there was more beneath the surface, more than just smoke and anger and junk food.
You look away from the knife and drag your eyes across the kitchen scenery until you meet Luke’s face, he looked highly intrigued by you and held a soft smile that looked friendly and inviting, like he wanted you to speak to him more. It made you wonder why you never felt this vibe about him before. You blink your eyes a bit, calculating what to bring up or what sentences to form. What kind of stuff did you like to talk about? Weed? Your nostrils were still stinging from when he blew smoke against your lips only an inch away from you, you didn’t want to think back to that moment, it was confusing because it made you feel something so unfamiliar and you couldn’t understand why your knees were weak at the thought of him being so fearfully close that your hands twitched, begging you to touch him in some way. It was difficult to gather, moments where you hate him and moments where you want him only had a thin line separating them, why did he make you feel so good in those seconds, he was blowing it at your face to spite you but something made you want more, of the smoke, and of his body heat. That’s why you might have been hesitant to come into the kitchen and try to settle down your rush of senses, and fizzle them down into a dull stream, he’s getting closer and closer as you think about all this. Just like before. You had to stop this before something, you weren’t sure what, happens.
Again, it might have been useful to be more familiar with him. Know if he’s the type to waltz up to a girl and smash his lips on hers without warning. Your mind spins as the feet between your bodies are lessening, Luke drawing closer and closer with a soft facial expression, his tall body towering you and intimidating you beyond belief, to the point where you had to fish your tongue around your mouth to regain moisture. You shuffle through topics and small talk and polite greetings and other things that weren’t exactly useful to you. You look down at the center of his chest and focus on his white t-shirt that hung loosely against it. All of his clothes…he’s swimming in them.
“Luke.” You blurt and glance up feverishly. He halts his movements and stands with his foot bent against the tile behind him, watching you dart your eyes across his face. He stands there for a moment before he exhales on cue, pressing his tongue to his inner lip and settling into a comfortable position.
You continue before your brother’s best friend does anything irrational. “Um. Uh, I’m sorry for sounding rude earlier and saying you were lazy, b-because.” You bring up something that’s already old news, but you’re desperate, and by the look on his face and the way he rolls his sea salt blue eyes up to the ceiling and down to the ground, revealing a soft redness from his recent high, that he’s over it. “I don’t know you all that well and.” You sound like an idiot, every word the spills and will spill out will only dig you deeper. “I just wanted to come in here, I was alone in the den and s-saw you come into the k-kitchen. Mm, uh.” You try to maintain your stammering. You’ve had to deal with it since you were young. Sometimes your stuttering was inflamed, sometimes it wasn’t there at all, not a trace. There are moments where you try to contain it, but it builds to the point where it falters against your cheeks and comes out in the most humiliating ways, at inconvenient times. Like in front of your brother’s best friend who you refused to talk to for many years. It’s odd to think he can make you do this, every letter you tripped up on, he patiently blinked. You can’t stop yourself now…
“And you have such a hard time already.” Oh shit. Stop.
Luke blinks again and pushes his hands into his roomy pockets of his cargo shorts, wanting to hear more.
“What with your home life and all that.” Stop..stop. “L-like your abusive dad who left when you were young and your mom dealing out girls on the street like playing cards.” What are you trying to do? This is all to prevent him from potentially getting close to your face again? Be a disgrace?
You think of youth church group leader and the longs relaxed talks he had with you about remaining neutral to uncomfortable subjects, and accepting to those who had to deal with them. But you have diarrhea mouth and it won’t stop spouting and Luke looked so scary from all the way up there. He doesn’t try to interject, not once. You wish he would.
“And y-you and the drug th-thing and being at risk of getting jumped in your trashy apartment complex.” You keep spewing, causing your face to grow beat red and alter your hue at a rapid rate. Where you really speaking right now? Or was it someone talking through you?
You had a habit of saying hurtful things when you were scared something would happen. You lost an old friend that way, calling her an idiot who’s only talent was cheating on tests.
You were on a creaking ferris wheel, afraid the floor would cave in…and let the words escape without your consent. She had gotten massively upset, but Luke on the other hand, just stands with fists in his pockets and flares his nostrils, wiggling the plastic stopper that plugged his septum piercing up so that he didn’t have to wear a ring. “A-and you can’t even afford ketchup half the time. O-or at least that’s what my mom s-s-says, y-you..” Why isn’t he stopping you. Oh my.. This is the end of you. Right now. Look at him, standing there like he doesn’t care but the flicker in his eyes tell you different. He moves his hand around in his pocket, as if her were feeling for something, but keep his eyes deadlocked on yours.
“A-and y-you can’t even dress properly, you have stains everywhere and waste your days smoking from-f..oh. Luke.” You’re about to strangle out a sob. “I can’t s-stop. Myself.” Your breathing grows thick and hot against your ribs and you places your hands on your stomach, trying to find a way out. “I’m-”
“What do you have against me y/n.” Luke speaks calmly and hangs his eyelids low, interrupting you with this gentle mumble only gets you more red in the face, your breath hitches and the sound of how smooth he remained.
You didn’t know a lot about him, except for those things you just pointed out. You’ve never dug deeper, and by the way he carries himself, you were sure he was hiding something even darker than what he led on. What you had against him…it will always be hard to put it in theory. He wants the answer now. What are you supposed to say? You didn’t have a problem speaking earlier but now everything his strangling you at the base of your throat.
“Nothing.” You squeak.
Luke shakes his head, that’s not good enough. He takes a large step forward after extending his leg till his foot touched the spot between your flip flops, and presses his chest into yours. Luke glances down and you tilt your head up with a great amount of fear instilled into your joints and your ribcage. He was so close, so close. You shoot off again, as it triggers your running mouth. Luke knows what he’s doing.
“K-n-sometimes I think a-about stuff that relates to you and uh. F-.”
“What do you think about?” Luke presses you into the wall with his body, not removing a hand from the device in his pocket. His chance was coming up soon. Everything is going according to plan. It was all so perfect. And you’re puddy in his presence.
You tighten your lips and shake your head, looking away from him and praying to God he’d forgive you for all the trouble you caused tonight.
“Huh?” He pries, accent thickening around the simple mouth expression. “Why do you hate me? You haven’t talked to me in years.” Luke raises his voice slightly to ensure you’re vulnerability. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?” He presses, literally and figuratively, needles and quizzes and punctures the words into you. “What do you think about?” He builds. His breath smells of pot and tongue and for some reason you wanted more, the warmness leaks from his mouth and screens your face, Luke presses his forehead against yours, taking big risks, assuming your brother won’t approach using only his gut feeling and false apathy. You can’t do this anymore, you’re going to implode or explode or whichever comes first under the lean of his huge body.
He’s your brothers friend..he’s your brother’s friend. Some dumb idiot who failed remedial math class in high school. He can’t be that threatening…don’t let him have that power.
His nose dares to gradually nuzzle into yours, his voice lowers to a level that drives you insane. Luke shuts his eyes, fingers on the phone in his pocket, ready to blow. This is it, one more nudge and you’ll say just the right things to break everything into small pieces and unfold the bet.
He parts his plump pink lips as gradually as he can, and takes in a deep breath, one that you can feel flowing into him.
“I want you to tell me what you imagine me doing to you when you’re in bed at night.” He whispers in a hoarse and slurred tone, knowing that this hooked you by how softly you moan out, an innocent and delicate noise. What a fucking dirty girl, he knew you thought about him, somehow he knew you couldn’t obtain such a porcelain posture on a stone pedestal. Time to yank.
“You tempt me.” You let the words accidentally escape, laced with tremors and hesitance.
You thought about him a lot…so much…it made you nearly cry from the knowledge and guilt that you betraying your beliefs.
Luke smirks in victory and nuzzles up on your nose once more, using a soft and boyish tone this time around. “I what?”
You raise your hands up and Luke folds his mouth into a wide grin. Here we go.
You shove him away from you, causing him to skilfully step back, as he was prepared for this.
“You tempt me!” You yell at him with all your might and tighten your fists at your side.
Oh please stop.
“You and your ratty clothes and disgusting personality and zero motivation and trailer park family oriented life, tempts me! You’re gross and rude and you smell like ashes and awful deodorant and your brain functions at a negative intelligence quotient! And I hate you Luke Hemmings, with all my fucking heart!” You let a swear word fly out of your mouth and instantly shrink back as he stands there, gently dropping his smile and pulling out a phone. Your brother’s phone. He knew you were going to say all these things too, everything was falling in to place and he had a deep admiration for you and your stupidity.
He presses play on the video and holds the phone in your face with a dead expression. You flinch back and focus in as a video surfaces of your friend, sitting beside the pool. You’re in the background in a small string bikini and beer bottles surrounding the chair you’re in. A guy has his arm around you, mumbling something into your ear.
“Shit y/n look at the fucking camera! You’re such a dumb bitch.” Your friend giggles in the video, you blush away from the guy and softly smile at the lense. “You’re a dumb bitch.” You retaliate and raise the middle finger up. The guy next to you presses his mouth into your neck and you turn your head towards him.
You watch the video in horror. You had no idea it was posted anywhere, you analyze everything in the scene to see how many counts of death you’d have to endure if anyone ever saw this. The truth being, you went to this party with your friends while you were away at school. You needed a break from the intensity of keeping up a perfect facade, leading a perfect life, being nothing but A plus material to be put on display like a show dog. And Luke…Luke had been on your mind a lot around this week that the video took place in. Maybe you just wanted hickeys from some other guy to knock the insanity out of you.
“Oh my fucking god stop recording me!” You yell at her. Luke looks at you as you intensely examine the video and makes a “ooo” face, furrowing his brows and shaking his head.
“What a very broad thing to say for a girl like you.” He comments. You dart your eyes over to him and close them altogether.
“W-w-who t-old you -a-about-”
“Your brother. He educated me on all of this. All three parts of this invigorating trilogy as well. You know…” Luke clicks the phone off and pulls it from your face, letting his arm hang down as he leans in. “My favorite part is when you talked about me to your lovely friends, those who were on and off camera.” He nods and allows you to feel a flame burst into your esophagus. Oh…no.
“You start the conversation by saying that you’ve seen my dick on accident before. Is this correct?” Luke wiggles his eyebrows sarcastically like a sleazy car salesman. “Then you proceed to say that it’s big.”
“Shh shh shhhh.” He shakes his head in satisfaction and gently raises a long finger in front of your face. “Thus ensued a conversation about how terrible I am at using it.”
“And not only did you talk shit to me behind my back and your friend was stupid enough to post it, but you talked shit right to my face just seconds ago, and…” He exhales and folds his lips out. “I’d admire the confidence. But what makes you think I’m going to just let all of that slide, especially when I have these video’s to show your parents as payback.” Jackpot. He has you now.
A heavy weight pressures on your shoulders as terror rides through you. This can’t be happening. You knew this would come back on you. Luke, of all people, is in front of you, holding your fate in a rectangular device that can display you around alcohol, boys, barely there clothing, and profanity left and right. This alone would completely demolish your plans to go to California this summer. You parents cannot see this. They absolutely can’t. You feel your palms sweat and a jabbing pain of sickness slosh in your belly. You’re going to vomit. There has to be a way…a way for you to save yourself. What did he want from you? Why was he so unbelievably interested in you not going in your trip. Right, because you completely insulted him and his family without a second thought, shattered his feelings and screamed in his face and abused him. You might deserve this. You might have believed you deserved this if your passion for leaving to California wasn’t so strong and influential. You glare into his raging eyes, storming with flecks of green and telling you to run, but his mouth remains at a relaxed frown and his nostrils are no longer flaring. He was going to destroy you and he knows it, and he’s proud of it.
You part your lips out of desperation and speak. “I’m sure you would forgive me if you were a good person…”
“Oh no, don’t inject me with that good soul Jesus shit. I’ve had enough of that. And it’s all fucking fake anyway.” Luke lets the words fly past his pierced lip.
You’re quick to defend yourself. “It’s not fake I-”
“I’m going to interrupt you one more time here and explain that there’s no fucking way I’m forgiving you for saying all that shit to me. Just so you get it though your head.” He leans in to make the words hit hard, keeping his eyes on you and snarling his lip. You whine and pull away.
This is it, everything is ruined. He has you wrapped tightly around his knuckle and he knows he can punch bricks and you’d still remain there. You’re going into a deep panic. You knew this would happen, you knew it. You knew it. Your chest starts to heave as you lean on the wall once more and hold your hand out to back Luke away, giving you room to place a hand over your mouth and hiccup into your palm, bursts of air threaten to cause you to faint. This can’t be happening.
You softly whimper and slouch over slightly, contemplating how you’re going to explain yourself.
The tall blond has extends his fingers and grabs a hold of your chin, making you look up at him while you wheeze and move your eyes all over the surrounding environment. He speaks clearly and loudly so that you’ll hone in on his words. “Calm down y/n. Calm down. Listen.” Luke pushes. “Listen.”
Easier said than done, your face curls in upset and you shake your head back and forth against his touch. He smushes your cheeks with his digits and swivels you. “I won’t show your parents. But there’s a bet involved. Think you can win?”
You stop breathing for a moment and stare at his very serious expression. A bet…you never been involved in a bet. Not a real one that had high stakes. It instantly peaks your curiosity and your ears perk up. What did it involve, it had to be something you both could equally accomplish. He can’t measure how long you can hold a bong rip when you never smoked before and he did it religiously.
“Mm.” You hum, his fingers still compressing your cheeks, scrunching your mouth as a result. “W..what is it?” You dare. This is your last chance.
He responds fondly, simpering towards you and raising his big head up gently, strands of hair fall onto his forehead. His voice is steady and rehearsed and couldn’t be more thrilled to lay out the law. Just by how manipulating he looks, you know this is going to be a big mistake, you flinch at the upcoming statement and feel his hand release your face and gently fondle your arm in an over friendly manner. You can’t say you don’t like it.
His accent bleeds it strong, swaying and curving the words in all the right areas and pauses and catches of breath. He knows you’re going to agree to this. After all, you aren’t as much of a princess as everyone hypes you up to be. You wanna touch and taste and suck as much as the rest of us do.
Luke fiddles with the thin hoop that makes his speech thicken in hopes the the ring won’t fall out, even though it’s been securely in there for as long as anyone can remember. You fantasize about that ring a lot…the way he licks and nibbles at it and when he smiles…when he laughs…when he juts it out and continues to suck in his lip until it’s swollen and soft. When he blows smoke past it, when he sits there, serious. Like he was going to pound you into the mattress..
“Let’s see who can make each other moan first.” He conveys boldly, not regretting or rethinking a syllable. Your knees buckle and bend slightly when the words escape into the humid air, his hand removes itself your arm and cups your cheek, a rough thumb pads it’s way across your mouth…. and slowly slides down it, pulling the lower lip down in a sexy and heavy movement. He’s gentle and prepared to make you lose at this very interesting game with a specific set of rules. “In pain or in pleasure, either way.” Your brother’s best friend adds, and send an unusual shudder through you. The thought of pain made you just as weak as the thought of pleasure…something no boy has ever made you feel…you’ve never done anything with anyone besides kiss them. And Luke was right in front of you, declaring he’d be that guy. He feels you electrify under his prints and chuckles in response. a deep and rich chuckle that makes you swallow hard and painfully. He finishes off the proposal in an outstretched, almost breathy moan sort of way, it’s compressed with throaty sounds and gentle humming. Like you were making him cum already. “Pain or pleasure baby.” Luke whispers and lowers his hand to your crotch, he slides in between your legs and begins to rub your clit in a slow circular motion through the material, leaning you back and allowing you to push your hips toward him, wanting to ride his fingers and sweetly letting a hazy and girly squeal come out in response to the heat and acute pleasure that was forming.
“Besides.” Luke rubs faster and causes you to yip and raise one of your legs slightly with a knee bend, giving him more access, this was going to be easy. And after leading a shitty life and getting beaten up and learning to live off ketchup, this was such a beautiful highlight. Making his best friend’s little sister wet against him, grinding her hips. You didn’t even know the rules yet, but it’s obvious what the outcome will be.
He palms you and see your nipples hardening under your expensive sweater. A dirty kid making a royalty gain hard nipples..what a sight. Pain or pleasure… “Either way, you’ll be scratching down my back.”