start a fight [muke af]

xxiv

xxiv

"Punch harder, Idiot!" Calum yelled, stepping forward.

Luke was sweating, actual drops of sweat falling from every open pore. "It hurts," he cried out, still punching towards the mats on Calum's hands.

"Good! Hurt more! Calum pushed towards Luke, putting his own weight into the glove to add resistance.

Luke's muscles screamed out in ache as he put every drop of energy into each punch. He got Calum back a step and continued to add force, almost pushing Calum off of the training area.

"Do it again!" Calum yelled, resetting up his stance.

"Calum," Luke whined.

Cal flinched towards Luke, letting him know he wasn't joking around.

Luke put his hands back up in front of his face, he could feel the gloves on his hands digging into his skin. He was sure he was bleeding and bruising under the cushioned material. He didn't know something so soft could become so violent.

"Do I have to make fun of your dick again to get you to punch harder?" Calum asked. His breath was still heavy, beads of sweat dripping underneath his headband.

Luke huffed out as his sore knees took another step forward.

The blonde boy went to work four hours later. His knuckles were callused to a purple shade, his arms sore at his side.

Holding a clipboard in his arms seemed to hurt. He was late to check in and it was past lights out. He peaked in the doors, making sure each inmate was in their bed—if one can even call it a bed.

He was getting used to night shift. Shit happened but shit always happened. Luke would rather be working during the day and asleep at night. He felt more human when he was living a normal human schedule.

He liked seeing his parents, but he felt simply so lazy spending all day by the television or in the grocery store.

Michael had a thing where he'd wait at the door for Luke. Part of it was because the older man liked to see Luke jump, but he also liked having a few minutes where it was just him and Luke. And Mike's cellmate.

There were certain dudes that would just sleep forever. Nothing would wake up them up. Even if they had drills at five in the morning with a siren blowing through their cell, they would stay sound asleep. Michael's cellmate was one of those dudes.

"You need to stop doing that," Luke said as he placed his clipboard down at his side. He relaxed, leaning against the door frame.

Michael internally smiled, he liked the fact that he made Luke comfortable. He didn't realize how nice that felt. "Sorry, I like pissing you off."

Luke rolled his eyes. He brought up a hand to his sore shoulder and rubbed into the tense muscles. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed? Like, asleep?"

"Aren't you supposed to yell at me or something?" Mike watched Luke's hands move around: They were so soft and fragile, even with bruises around the skin.

The young blonde laughed. "Probably."

"You look so sore. Good fuck?"

The smile on Luke's face dropped into one of annoyance. "That's inappropriate, Michael."

"It's a question!"

"Don't be annoying. It's way too late to deal with your complete shit."

"Okay, Twink."

Luke looked up to see Michael smirking down at him. He had his bottom lip between his teeth and a cocky grin engraved to his skin. Even through the dim light, Luke knew Michael looked really, really hot.

Luke was so attracted to the stupid boy and it was practically killing him.

"You've never been fucked, have you?"

"Shut up, Michael," Luke sighed.

"I knew it! I could see it in your eyes. Come on, Princess, we could change that right now." Michael knew exactly how to get Luke weak at the knees. Mike has done it all with plenty of boys like the blonde in front of him.

"Don't call me that."
"You know you love it."

"I don't!" He defended, his voice squeaking to a higher octave.

Mike laughed. "Okay, Twink."

Luke knows that he should yell at Michael. He should scream and punish him, get him in isolation or send him to Ashton first thing tomorrow morning.

But, he doesn't. Somewhere deep inside, Luke kind of likes it. He likes having a teasing relationship with Michael. To put it simple, he likes the older man. Luke really, really likes Michael.

"Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." Luke took a step back, holding his clipboard back out in front of him. He didn't technically see Mike's roommate and for all Luke could know that roommate could not even be in the cell.

Luke checked both of them off anyways.

"Okay," Mike said with a yawn, "Have fun being a loser."

"You, too, Mikey." Luke wandered off. He completely finished his round before realizing he referred to Michael as Mikey. Luke could feel his cheeks red up with embarrassment as he took a seat on a metal bench. He leant against the rail behind him, bringing his sore hands to his face and rubbing at his eyes.

Luke didn't know why he was so attracted to Michael. It's something about their tense relationship that completely and utterly turns Luke on. He knows it shouldn't, he knows it's a new degree of unprofessional.

Michael was so strong, he was obviously dominant as hell. Of course Luke debated who'd be the dominant figure in their relationship, he does that with people he doesn't even know.

Luke couldn't get the image of Michael in bed out of his head. He knew Michael would completely end him in bed. He knew he'd be rough in a loving, gentle kind of way. Was that a thing? Could a partner be gentle and rough at the same? Luke wanted to find out.

He wanted to feel Mike's constantly soft lips on his own chapped ones. He wanted to have his hands tangled in his hair, pulling at his scalp. He wanted to feel Mike's own rough hands around Luke's waist, climbing up his back and scratching across the skin.

Luke wanted Michael.

He came out of his zone and realized that he was still sitting in the middle of a prison staring at a cement water. He was getting himself worked up, knowing he looked flustered as hell.

He stood up, ready to walk around a bit to rid himself of the feeling. He took his time passing Mike's cell every single time.