Peepshow

It's too fucking cold to be outside. Ashton shouldn't even be outside, but fuck if he was gonna stay in tonight. He's too restless, buzzing like a trapped fly. He needs to be out. He doesn't know what he's looking for, walking the blustery streets with his hands stuffed in his pockets, hood pulled over his head no real shield for the wind. Not sure, what he needs, he just needs something.

Two weeks without a fuck and he’s all twisted up. Blocked like bad plumbing, like a pipe’s gonna burst. But picking up some neon haired chick at a gig is not gonna cut it, not tonight.

He passes a strip club, a painted up beauty eyes him off, beckons him with a sparkling finger under the buzzing neon sign. He glances over, considering. However, no, a strip club's not gonna do it for him tonight. All that grinding with no real payoff. He needs more. A hooker or a good phone sex line or something. He's still not sure.

He's about to pass an adult shop, blaring music and blinking lights draw his gaze and he pauses briefly, looking in. Maybe some porn. Something hardcore, lots of cocks and groaning and come shots. Maybe that’ll do the trick.

His Chucks are stepping across the threshold before he has a chance to second-guess himself, leading him to wander the aisles aimlessly, sizing up titles lined up on dingy shelves. It's mostly gay porn, which shouldn't surprise him given the neighborhood he's in, the street he's on. Maybe that’ll do it. Some hard bodied guys fucking each other’s mouths and asses. It's not what he'd usually go for but he needs something different tonight. Something novelty.

The music that was blaring into the street gets louder the deeper into the store he goes. He's surprised when he doesn't hit a back wall when the shelves end, instead there's a wide doorway leading into a dark open space, lit only with colored disco lights. He must've missed the signs.

It's a fucking peepshow.

Slipping across the threshold into the spinning light, he investigates. There’s a row of booths off to his left, some with doors open, vacant. Through the window in the front of an open booth he catches a glimpse of bodies moving, dancing, in an area he can't see from outside. The sight is tempting, but the booths are small, too much like lockers he used to get shut into at high school rendering that option too nightmarish to consider.

He dismisses the idea promptly and turns to leave, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He’ll just buy something hardcore to beat off to instead. Before he gets a step, he sees it.

The private booth.

Curiosity piqued, he wanders closer, peering inside the open door. It's much bigger than the booths, maybe the size of a disabled toilet. Inside there's a plush looking chair, a paper towel dispenser and a phone handset bolted to the wall.

It's seedy and fucking sleazy. It's goddamn perfect.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he steps inside, locking the door behind him. He wipes his hand off on his jeans and resolves not to touch anything unless he absolutely has to. It’s quieter here, the music is still present but it's not as penetrating as it was outside. Still not entirely sure what he's doing, he turns his attention to a small black box that looks like a vending machine without the treats.

Patting his pockets he finds a ten dollar bill and after a few misses he manages to feed it into the finicky machine. It comes to life with a buzz of lights, digital display showing him "10:00" and three large buttons labeled "1", "2" and "3" start to flash. What the fuck now? Is he supposed pick one? With a shrug he figures three is as good a number as any and punches it with probably more force than necessary.

There's a humming noise behind him and he turns to see the dark shiny wall is actually a window, with a black blind that is now slowly rolling upwards. As it retracts, he can see behind it, slowly being revealed, is the person he's paid for.

Bit by bit they're exposed, bare feet, tight jeans hugging ankles, calves, thighs. Studded belt. Tight black t-shirt stretched over the flat planes of a chest. Wait. Flat planes? He stares harder, not seeing any curves, any hips, any tits. It hits him fast. Where he is. The neighborhood he's in. The street he's on. Fuck. Fuck. He's just wasted ten bucks on a fucking guy?

The blind rolls up the rest of the way, slowly uncovering long dark hair, a round pale face, intense hazel eyes lined with a smoky eyeliner. And fuck if that isn't the prettiest guy Ashton's ever seen. He looks about Ashton's age, or younger, standing with one hip thrust out to the side, a hand resting lightly on his waist. Almost like a model. A really cocky model.

He's looking Ashton up and down and Ashton is a little surprised to be seen - but what was he expecting, one way glass? One hand flies to Ashton's hair before he can think to stop it and he reminds himself he's the customer, it doesn't matter what he looks like. He still wishes he was wearing better looking jeans, at least.

Ashton starts to stammer at the pretty man on the stage, something about being mistaken, that he's in the wrong place, hands flying up to gesture along. His voice bounces back at him off the glass and the guy on the other side of the window smiles at him, shaking his head in a vaguely mocking way and points at the phone handset on the wall beside Ashton.

Feeling like an ass, Ashton rolls his eyes and that makes the guy on the other side smile bigger, showing teeth and wrinkling his nose up in a cute way. Ashton tries to ignore how his mind is already associating words like ‘pretty’ and ‘cute’ with, you know, a guy as he takes the two steps to the handset, holding it to his ear gingerly.

"Hi." The voice on the other end is breathy and when Ashton looks up the guy's got his own handset cradled to his shoulder. Ashton's having a hard time focusing because he's transfixed by the pretty guy's hands, the way they're dancing over his chest, drawing patterns on black fabric.

"Hi." Ashton belatedly remembers to speak, voice too high and he coughs to try and loosen his vocal chords. The guy behind the glass is undulating now, hips rolling around in a way that is vaguely awkward but mostly very hot and Ashton's mouth is going dry.

"What's your name?" The breathy voice is in his ear asks, strangely intimate. Ashton's watching his mouth move behind the glass as he talks, fascinated by his lips, the way they pull to the side like he's talking out of one side of his mouth.

"Ashton." He answers without thinking.

"Ashton." The guy repeats, almost like a question, twisting it like a joke. "Really?" he adds, voice pitching up now and he's got one eyebrow raised, smirking.

"Yeah... um, yeah?" Ashton stammers, feeling a bit confused.

"Oh." The guy's mouth falls open, his huge eyes going wider. "Sorry. Sorry. Fuck I thought... that's your actual name isn't it? Shit." He's winding a pale hand through his hair and yanking on it as the words tumble out. "I thought you were joking. I'm not even supposed to ask for names. Fuck. Stupid!"

"Don't worry about it." Ashton interjects, trying to sound reassuring even though he's a bit slighted. His name is not funny damn it. "What's ah... what's your name?"

The guy meets his eyes slowly, disentangling his hand from his hair and giving himself a shake. "Oh. Ah. You can call me Lou." The breathy voice is back now, and Lou is fixing Ashton in a hot stare that's making Ashton forget about being slighted, starting a slow warmth building in Ashton's crotch. It's a voice that makes Ashton forget about leaving. He can stay. He's paid his money, no point letting it go to waste.

Lou is toying with the hem of his shirt now and his hips have started that rolling thing again. Ashton knows he's staring and he's pretty sure if he could see his own facial expression right now he'd be embarrassed by it. He already feels unreasonably warm. But he can't help looking. The guy - Lu - is fucking gorgeous.

"You want to see more?" Lou drawls in his ear, breath making the phone staticky. He's got one finger hooked in his shirt, pulling it up, giving Ashton a peek at the pale skin underneath.

"Yeah." The word tumbles out of Ashton's mouth eagerly. "Please." He adds, but Lou is already pulling off his shirt, yanking it over his head by the neck the same way Ashton would. It's not terribly artistic and it leaves his hair all fucked up, but it does the job.

He's no hard body, pale and on the skinny side, but with a fleshiness around his waist that Ashton inexplicably wants to press his face into. The sight shouldn't be as affecting as it is. Ashton's seen plenty of bare chested guys before, but somehow this is different, this is fucking sexy. He doesn't know if it's the place or the intention or just the way Lou keeps swaying and fixing him with those big eyes of his, but Ashton is burning up. He's fucking there.

Lou's smiling at him now, kind of secretly, as he runs a hand down his chest, fingers sliding lower and lower. He's reaching for his belt and Ashton's nodding decisively because, yeah, he wants to see more. He doesn't want to think about what the hot burn in his crotch means in regards to his sexuality, or the way his heart's beating faster, adrenaline flooding him. This is just like watching porn. Live porn. With a fucking hot live star. One who's pulling down his jeans and wiggling and tugging at them to get them off. They're stuck around Lou's thighs and he's getting pinker and pinker in the face as he pulls at them but they’re not budging.

It's kind of comical to watch and Ashton bites back a snicker. He's got some spray on pants himself so he's gone through the exact same thing, he just thought a professional might be able to undress with a bit more finesse.

"Oh fuck!" Lou curses, dropping onto his ass on the floor, laughing and blushing. "I just washed them, they're so fucking tight." His feet are still twisted up in the black denim and Lou's giggling behind his curtain of hair, his smile bright, his eyes dancing. "God." He sighs. "It's not very sexy is it? I'm sorry. I haven't been doing this very long." He ploughs a hand through his hair, which is in so much disarray now it doesn't even make a difference. He's got his ass planted on a sheepskin on the floor and he kicks violently at his jeans until they finally come free, leaving him clad only in bright red boy shorts. Very small, very tight, very red boy shorts that hug every inch of his perfectly rounded ass.

"It's fine, really. You're doing great." Ashton tries for reassuring.

"I'm not but thanks for lying." Lou shoots a self-deprecating grin at him and rolls to his knees, kneeling up directly in front of the glass so Ashton can get a clear view. And there's plenty to look at. All that pale skin is on display, as well as his dusky pink nipples. The way the red fabric of those shorts hugs every curve tightly... Ashton's thinking maybe he's not the only one getting excited. His breath catches in throat and when he speaks his voice is low and thick.

"Well, I haven't left yet." Ashton shoots him a grin, feeling his face grow flushed, "and I'm not planning to either, not yet."

"That's good." Lou says in a low voice, voice hitching as he trails a hand absently down his chest. "So, you gonna take off your shirt?" He asks brightly.

Ashton chokes a little into the phone. "I'm sorry?" He was momentarily distracted by Lou's wandering hand. Did he really just say that?

Lou frowns at him, pouting in a way that should look childish but somehow just looks sexy. "You gonna show me what you're hiding underneath that shirt?" He drawls, low and slow.

"Really?" Ashton asks, voice pitched up in surprise. He's not entirely sure how this is supposed to go, but he didn't think he'd need to get undressed.

Lou rolls his eyes at him. "You know, you're a bit slow. Most guys would've whipped it out by now." His does a vague demonstrative hand movement. Ashton suddenly thinks of the paper towel dispenser. And he's so, so happy he hasn't touched anything in the room.

"Right, yeah." Flustered, he can't think of a reason not to, so he drags his shirt over his head. By the time he gets the handset back to his ear Lou's cooing at him.

"Wicked ink. Fuck that looks awesome. Come here, show me." Lou's knee-walking himself closer until his palms are pressed to the glass, eyes roving Ashton's torso. "Closer. Turn around."

Ashton rolls his eyes, but he still takes a step towards the glass and turns slowly for Lou. He can't help the little thrill he gets at the attention, it feels like Lou's gaze is painting tingles across his skin, shortening his breath. He bathes in Lou's careful study a little while before raising his hands and asking, "Are we done?"

"Oh. Oh shit, sorry." Lou stutters, tugging at his hair in the way Ashton's noticed he adopts when he's nervous. "I get distracted easily." His mouth twitches into a self-deprecating smile. He glances over Ashton's shoulder to the black box, which has ticked down to 5:03. "It's cool. We're still golden." He scrambles to his feet, adding "Don't worry, I'm really good at this part." into the handset before dropping it to the floor with a clatter that makes Ashton’s ear hurt. Ashton lets the handset rest absently on his shoulder, watching way too closely for what ‘this part’ will be.

Lou stands, turns to face away from Ashton and slowly bends forwards from the waist so his arms and head dangle down between his legs, giving Ashton a first class view of his ass. Ashton leans closer, catching a glimpse of his reflection as he does. He looks hungry. It doesn't even matter anymore that it's not a chick's ass he's staring at. It's a fucking fine view.

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, Lou rolls them down slowly, exposing pale skin inch by inch. Ashton's not sure how Lou manages to stay balanced and not tip over, but he does. His hair halos around his pinkening face and he's biting his lip in concentration as he rolls them all the way down his pale legs, bracing his fingertips on the floor while he kicks his way out of them. It's obviously a move he's been taught, but that doesn't make it any less impressive.

Bent over as he is, ass high, cheeks white and smooth, he looks almost feminine and fucking mouthwatering. Absently, Ashton presses a palm to his crotch, a quick "down boy" motion as he takes it in. This is the first time in memory he can actually picture himself fucking another guy. He can imagine placing his hands on Lou's hips and pulling that perfect ass back to meet his cock. It's a heady image.

Much like what he's seeing in front of him now. Lou slides a hand up to grab his cock, and Ashton's gets an eyeful of the way his balls shift as his fist slides. As nice as the view is he really wants Lou to turn around. Because he honest-to-goodness wants to see this guy's cock properly and he doesn't even care what that says about him, his sexuality, anything - he just wants. This is fucking hot.

Lou's phone handset's still on the floor so Ashton reverts to gestures, winding his finger in a circle, well aware of how hot his face feels and how hard it’s getting to keep his hands to himself. Lou gets the message. He smiles crookedly, biting his lip as he pulls himself upright. His hair's all big from hanging upside-down, leaving him looking like an eighties glam metal star but with less makeup. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are dark as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. And he’s jerking off for Ashton, his hand stroking in slow movements, cock hard and shiny at the head. Ashton's staring again and he knows it. He looks fucking edible. Ashton feels like he's on fire.

Lou turns to face Ashton front on and Ashton's eyes are devouring him. All that naked skin, free of ink and clothes. His eyes trace the faint line of hair arrowing down Lou's pelvis, down, down... until he’s stuck staring at Lou's cock, the way the pink head keeps sliding into sight and then out again with each movement of Lou's busy hand. Fuck. He should not be so turned on by this, but he is.

Since Lou's standing on a raised stage and Ashton's not tall, he's about eye level with Lou's crotch so he's not missing a trick. He's thinking if there wasn't a pane of glass between them he'd be happy to try giving his first blow job. Because there's something that looks delicious about Lou's dick and Ashton's mouth is feeling way too empty.

Lou pauses his motions and Ashton almost protests, but Lou just smiles, leaning his palms to the glass to balance himself as he climbs down to his knees. This puts his face at eye level with Ashton and up close like this, he's definitely the prettiest guy Ashton's ever seen.

Ashton doesn't even realize he's reached out to touch until his hand hits the cold glass. Abashed he pulls his hand back, knowing Lou saw, that Lou's watching him, his eyes all hot and sparkling.

Lou picks up the forgotten handset and Ashton numbly presses his own to his ear. Lou's undulating again, rubbing a hand over his chest as he asks "You gonna join in, or what?" throwing a meaningful glance towards Ashton's crotch. His tight jeans are doing very little to hide his aroused state and the idea of getting his pants open, getting rid of that restriction sounds a lot like heaven.

"Um. Is that okay?" It takes a moment for Ashton to answer. He's never at his sharpest when he's horny.

"Um, yeah!" Lou rolls his eyes like Ashton is a bit slow. "That's kind of the whole point."

"Right, right." Ashton mutters, nearly dropping his phone in the rush to get his belt open. He's not even thinking about where he is or what he's about to do, he's just wishing his fucking belt wasn't so complicated. Latch up? Latch down? "Fuck!" He swears, tugging at the stubborn buckle, too aware of how long this is taking.

Lou's just watching him, leaning closer until his forehead is pressed against the glass. It should look funny, the smear of flesh pressed flat, but his eyes are too intense to be comical and the way he's licking and biting on his lip is sending Ashton's blood hot. He's never wanted to kiss someone so bad. He's gonna shatter this fucking window if he ever gets his belt open.

Finally the fucking thing gives and Ashton's never been more thankful to not be wearing button fly jeans. With the pop of a button and the rasp of a zip he's got his pants open and the relief is only overridden by the intense desire to touch. Now.

Lou shoots him a smug little smile and does a golf clap at his triumph. Ashton barely spares him a glare. He'd totally flip him off if both of his hands weren't so busy getting his cock out. When the cool air hits his hot skin Lou is watching, his gaze heavy like a second caress and Ashton is past the point of being embarrassed, there's no one to see but Lou and he's watching him right back. Ashton finds his grip immediately, his eyes dancing between Lou's face, lips, hands, cock. Lou's stroking himself off as well and Ashton tries and quickly gives up on trying to match rhythm with him. He's too fucking gone. He can't think. He can only feel.

He's starting to pant, to sweat, a moan growing in the back of his throat. The slide of his hand is familiar but perfect, one crooked finger rubbing over his head, spreading precome around. His eyes devour every inch of the beautiful man in front of him, feeling the throb, the tide of heat swelling inside him, when suddenly the black box starts beeping and flashing and the fucking blind starts coming down.

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" He drops his dick, sight of the blind encroaching on his view singing panic into his motions as he digs frantically through his collapsed pockets for money. He doesn't even care how much it's gonna cost now, if he finds a fifty dollar bill he's gonna stick it in that fucking machine. Anything to keep the blind at bay, keep that mouth, that face, that slightly sideways smile and the shy little laugh, just moments longer.

He's just managed to release a crumpled twenty from his pants when he looks up to see Lou on all fours, his attention focused on a small white box on the other side of the glass. He bangs the side in a measured way and the black box stops beeping, the blind starts retracting. Ashton cranes his head to see the black box is reading "10:00" again and counting and he's feeling more than a little ridiculous standing in the middle of the room with his pants around his knees and a raging hard-on, wielding a random twenty dollar bill. He waves it questioningly at Lou who's crawling back to the glass, catlike.

Lou just shakes his head, snatching the forgotten handset off the floor, echoing Ashton's earlier words, "Don't worry about it. I was slow to start, I owe you-" Ashton starts to interject but Lou talks over him. "Besides, you're better to look at than most of the guys we get in here. I wanna see more."

Ashton's heart trips at that. It’s a line, it’s a fucking line he tells himself. He’s gotta remember where he is, what this is, even if it feels like something more. He shakes off the thought. Not now.

"I wanna see more too." He admits, voice rough and breathy into the phone.

"Good." Lou grins and Ashton could just look at that smile all day. Except Lou turns away from him, scrabbling in a canvas bag. When he pulls out a tube of lube Ashton's breath catches in his throat. Lou fixes him with a look, one eyebrow cocked. There's a question on his face and Ashton's nodding, not sure what the question was, only that his answer is yesyesyes.

The eagerness of Ashton's nodding stretches Lou's mouth into a satisfied smile and he crawls back to the front of the stage, stray strands of hair falling across his face. He kneels up in front of Ashton, turning to face slightly away as he pops the cap on the tube and starts lubing up his fingers with intent. Before Lou's even touched himself Ashton has to reach down, take himself in hand and just squeeze. Because fuck. That's fucking hot.

Lou bends forwards, bracing himself against the floor with one hand as the other slides around behind him. He's looking over his shoulder at Ashton, fixing him with that smoky hazel stare as his fingers find their mark. First one, then two slip inside and Ashton has fucking front row seats. He's leaning so close to the glass now his breath's fogging it up in puffs. He bites down on his palm and starts moving his own hand again without even thinking. There's no other recourse, he's so turned on by what he's seeing he has to touch, to stroke, to feel.

Lou's mouth is slightly open, eyes smoldering at Ashton, watching him through the glass. There's a kind of pride in his look, like he's getting off on having this effect on Ashton, reveling in it. He licks his lips and Ashton echoes the action, wishing he had access to that mouth. So many things he could do.

His cock's throbbing in his hand and has to slow down his strokes a little. He's dancing so close to the edge and he wants this to last, to savor it as much as he can.

Lou's face creases up. Ashton can't hear but he can see the "oh" that falls from his mouth. When he focuses back on Lou's ass he's got three fingers inside now and Ashton has to swallow, to stop stroking for a minute and hold his cock tight at the base. Oh Jesus he's so hot, so ready to blow.

He's starting to sway on his feet, blood racing through him. He leans forward, bracing his forearm on the glass above his head, getting in as close as he can. He just wants to reach through the glass, pull Lou's fingers out and replace them with his cock. Sink into that perfect ass and just fuck him. Fuck, but he wants to.

A groan escapes his mouth and he taps the glass with his knuckles, making a "come here" motion to Lou. Lou nods, face slick with sweat and needy as he crawls up to the glass, kneeling so they're eye to eye, separated only by mere inches and a pane of glass. Ashton glances down to Lou's cock, flushed and hard with a line of precome swaying from the tip. His mouth waters at the sight.

Ashton balances the handset awkwardly on his shoulder as Lou puts his to his mouth.

"I wanna see you come." The breathy voice is back in his ear and he didn't realize how acutely he'd been missing it. Lou's sounding more ragged now, breathless.

"Same." Ashton grunts back, lips quirking up in a half smile that Lou returns, lips curling up on one side, eyes hazy and blown.

When Lou reaches down to palm himself again, his fingers shiny with lube, Ashton leans forward, resting his forehead on his arm and watches. Feels. Lou's hand moves in a swift rhythm and Ashton's own hand is a blur. He's letting his cock dictate the pace now and it's fast and hard and perfect. Lou's panting, he can hear it, crackly breaths in his ear. Ashton's mouth starts running off, words tumbling out unchecked, "Fuck, so hot. So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot Lou…”

“Luke.” The voice in his ear pants and Ashton’s eyes fix on that pink wet mouth through the glass. “Call me Luke. Please” The way Luke’s looking at him unties something deep in Ashton’s chest. And he knows it’s not a line. He knows this is something special, something more. And it’s hot. He’s hot. So fucking hot he can barely breathe, but he can still speak.

“Luke.” The name is alien on his lips at first, but he loves it, lips curling in a smile around the syllables. He’s got this now, this secret, this piece of the gorgeous man on the stage that’s not for just anyone. His fingers tighten around his cock as he strokes, letting loose again, letting the words fall as they will. “Luke, Luke. Fuck. You’re so hot. So hot, god Luke. I wanna fuck you. I wanna fuck you so fucking much."

"I want you to." Luke's voice is back in his ear, panting and ragged. Ashton's eyes fly up to meet his lusty gaze through the glass and fuck if he doesn't believe it. Paid time or not, peepshow or not - in this moment he completely believes it.

"Oh Jesus..." He groans, his hand pumping faster now. His other hand flexes on the glass, fingers spreading until they’re splayed flat against the cold hard surface, wishing so much to touch.

Luke's arching into his hand, mouth hanging open, swaying forwards and backwards as his fist pumps faster and faster. Ashton can't focus, there's too much to see. His eyes dance between Luke's cock, his face, his skin, his mouth. Luke’s free hand flies up, fingers pressing to the glass, mirroring Ashton's hand on the other side. It's not touching, not even close, but it's something. It's almost enough for now.

"Ashton..." Luke grunts, voice pitched up, leaning forwards on his arm as his hips start to buck into his hand. His eyes are fluttering like he's trying hard to keep them open and his gaze is hazy as he stares at Ashton. Ashton bites his lip, thrusting into his own hand because, fuck yeah, he can see it coming, feel it rushing up through him.

Luke's mouth is wide open, little gasping "ah"s leaking out as he bucks forwards. Ashton’s staring at his face, his pinched up eyes, his mouth, his tongue. God he’s beautiful like this. Ashton’s wanting so much more than what he’s getting and maybe that’s selfish but Christ he wants to touch so bad. He’s leaning so close he’s sweating on the glass, muttering, "Fuck. Fuck, yeah. Fuck yeah." as he pulls on his dick, lost in the ecstasy etched on Luke's face.

Luke comes first and Ashton sees every moment of it happening, from when his eyes crease shut to the long moan that pushes out of his wet open mouth. Luke’s trembling, bucking into his hand, his strokes slowing ever so slightly before he erupts, crashing forwards onto the glass and spattering it with white.

The sight is enough to push Ashton over and he forces his eyes to stay open as the orgasm hits him like a fucking tidal wave. Luke’s watching him, panting into the glass, eyes locked hard onto Ashton’s and it’s so fucking intimate he can barely handle it. He's lost in Luke's eyes, the hot stare that’s drilling right through him, burning him from the inside out. His balls draw up, orgasm screaming at him until he explodes like a fucking A-bomb, a loud strangled noise that resembles “Luke” choking from his lips as the rush of sticky wetness covers his hand.

Dizzy, he sways on his feet, leaning hard on the glass. When he drags his eyes open Luke's still watching him. His color’s high and he looks dazed and fucked-out, damp strands of dark hair stuck to his face. He's still the best thing Ashton's ever seen.

"Fuuuuck." He breathes, drawing it out. Luke giggles back, wiping his hand on his stomach like that'll do any good. "That was amazing." Ashton continues, barely able to keep the awe out of his voice. "Fuck I needed that. I so needed that."

"I think I did too." Luke says with another soft laugh, dropping down to sit on his heels. He rubs a hand through his hair, ducking his head shyly. Ashton's thinking that's he's probably just rubbed a bunch of lube and come through his hair, but it's strangely endearing.

He catches himself smiling and Luke's smiles back crookedly, hazel eyes glowing. And Ashton's thinking he's gonna have to figure out what neighborhood he's in, what street he's on, what store he's in and memorize it.

Because he's coming back here again. Definitely.