DeadBeat [cashton + Muke] ✔️

[1]

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Ashton had never been a good type of man, he was arrogant and harsh toned; took what he wanted and carelessly blew cigarette smoke in the faces of those who argued back.
But he was so hot, so self assured and confident, and by god Luke was a slave to his touch.

Endlessly obsessed with the way hazel eyes would darken and Ashton's voice would lower to a growl of frustration whenever the criminal was annoyed.
Obsessed with the way long fingers felt when they tugged and pulled on Luke's hair or grabbed him by his limbs and manhandled him around like a pathetic rag doll.
He was obsessed, unhealthily and unforgivingly obsessed with the vile man, and he didn't give a damn what anyone had to say about it.

Luke knew he could do better than the mess he was in. He knew he could find someone whose home wasn't rundown or tainted by smoke and drugs, whose words weren't often drowned in brutality and who could love him like he had always longed to be loved, but he didn't want to find that someone. At least not yet.

He wanted Ashton. He wanted the man who threw him around and told him what to do, who didn't make him go out and interact with the world if he didn't want to, who didn't care that he didn't have a job and the government pay of purposeful unemployment was all he had to his name.
He wanted the man who didn't care about him, and he was happy to have it that way.

"God, this thing is fucking stupid!" Ashton grunted in annoyance, careless as he tossed the living room TV remote onto the coffee table with a thud. "Does nothing in this fucking house work?"

"I do." Luke instantly piped up, a loose smile on his pretty face as he peered into the living room from the kitchen doorway.

He was such a contrast to Ashton, pretty and gentle with soft blue eyes and baggy knitted sweaters dropped over his shoulders and dragged past his knees. Ashton was a grungy type of man, rough clothes and torn fabric, a stubble beard and a voice like a deranged criminal.
They should never have matched together, and yet here they were. Many years entwined, a black market criminal and a hopeless romantic.

"No you fucking don't." Ashton crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed into an unimpressed glare toward the slender blond.
"Since when did you have a job?"

"I mean... I kinda work for you, right?" Luke tried to clarify and Ashton snorted; gesturing for the blond to move closer. "I do whatever you need me to, kinda like my boss?"

"Yeah, goddamn right you do." Ashton bent his finger, coaxing Luke toward him with a snide smirk. "C'mere."

Luke didn't need to be asked twice, giddy as he rushed forward to be caught by Ashton's hands to his waist; pulled hot against his partner's front, with not a second to catch up before large hands were on his bare ass beneath fabric.

"Guessin' dinner's not cooked, huh?" Ashton commented, somewhat amused by the way Luke squirmed so easily under his gaze.
"Your stupid whore ass too busy or something?"