(credit to hukelemmings on ao3)
{this shit is so sexy ohmygod.)
Three weeks later, Michael finally calls Luke and invites him out for dinner. Luke nonchalantly replies with a 'sure, yeah', but his stomach has been doing flips all day leading up to their night together.
Michael arrives to pick him up at seven, then says something about their dinner reservation being pushed back to eight thirty due to complications. Luke invites him inside, asks why he didn't just come at eight instead, and Michael shrugs, mumbling about how he didn't want to miss an opportunity to spend extra time with the blonde boy.
They sit on Luke's couch for awhile, chatting mindlessly, when suddenly Michael scoots closer and grips Luke's chin with his hand. For an excruciating second, Luke thinks (prays, really) that the red haired boy is about to kiss him.
But all Michael does is rest his thumb on Luke's lip, tugging down, and Luke gets it immediately. He drops his jaw, sticking his tongue out, and Michael gasps softly at the sight of Luke's healed tongue ring. The swelling has gone down greatly by now, though, so the giant size of the barbell is sort of inconvenient.
He tries to tell Michael as much, fails because his tongue is hanging out, but Michael seems to get it.
"Come on, we've got a lot of time 'til dinner starts, I can get you a new ring from the shop on the way," Michael tells him chirpily, and Luke nods, excited.
That's how they ended up back at To The Moon, parked in the employee lot around back. It's dark, like completely, because the parlor is closed tonight. They're sitting in Michael's '71 Torino, with black leather seats and matted black paint on its exterior. It's so Michael, right down to the chain necklace hanging from the rearview mirror.
The Rolling Stones are playing through a cassette in the car's installed tape deck, a little scratchy because of the car's age, but still good. Michael's humming along, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Luke's just watching, reclined in his seat with his feet up (clad only in socks, since Michael about lost his mind when Luke placed his shoes up on the dash).
His fingers are working the new, much shorter barbell Michael unlocked the parlor a few minutes ago to retrieve through his tongue, brows furrowed in concentration. Michael's eyes are watching him do so, occasionally nodding to let Luke know he's got it right, he's not missing the hole by a million miles or anything.
When the ring is in, Luke cheers, sticking his tongue out at Michael and making a muffled "ta-da" noise.
Michael chuckles, leaning over the console so they're inches apart, and Luke's breath hitches. "Think I could finally get that kiss? Y'know, to compare, and whatnot?" He winks, teasing, and Luke giggles.
"Thought you wanted to wait until after our date?" Luke raises an eyebrow.
Michael shrugs, removing his hands from the wheel and trailing one up Luke's arm. It makes the blonde boy shudder, goose bumps prickling at his skin.
"What, you don't want my mouth on you?" Michael asks huskily, and Luke can't help it, he moans. It makes Michael smirk, cocky and not even trying to hide it. "You do, don't you?"
Luke can't even tell Michael how much he wants that, how it's all he's been able to think about for weeks, because the red haired boy is suddenly lunging forward, lips latching on to the skin underneath Luke's jaw and sucking harshly.
"Okay," is all Luke is able to say, which is embarrassing, but Michael doesn't pick on him like he would have in any other situation. Luke drags his hand up Michael's back, feeling the leather jacket under his touch, and he tangles his fingers in the fluffy locks of the other boy.
