greatamazingfeelingsboy

Entry tags:

au,
michael guerin

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He's not new, not exactly. Caleb's been here maybe a month or two longer than him, but he's the latest new kid to come to the city, so he's still The New Kid. His emotions are always a swirl of hope/boredom/excitement, tinged slightly with a bitter edge, like he's constantly got a bad taste in his mouth, or something. There's more to it, but Caleb can't pinpoint it. He's furtive, distrustful, but it's not an active thing. It's always under the surface, this dark plum purple that's not fear but not suspicion, either.

Wariness, he thinks.

His name is Michael Guerin, and Caleb hates the days he's not in class. His feelings are always so easy to latch onto, because he never has to try. He doesn't stress out. Class is easy for him, but he's going to fail out if he doesn't start participating, which is why Dufresne had suggested him when she'd told Caleb he should look into tutoring.

It's not like Caleb is dumb. He's usually a pretty good student. But he's under eighteen, so he still lives at the Children's Home. He's surrounded by pubescent kids, some of whom don't know how to control their urges, some of whom never fucking sleep, which means Caleb gets, maybe, two hours a night. He goes to school exhausted, has no focus, and has stopped being able to balance the most basic emotions. So his grades are slipping. If they keep slipping, he's going to be kicked off the team, which he really, really doesn't want, so he finds himself outside the auto shop some of the music kids said Michael works at part time, staring at the door like it might swallow him.

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Caleb nods, eyes trained on Michael's. He's drawn into that sharp, beautiful hope, and it pushes away the rest of the emotions for a moment. Caleb manages to get to his feet, grabbing his flask on the way, and he steps over the circle until he's beside Michael, helping him stand.

"I'm, I'm really thirsty," he agrees, sort of belatedly by this point.

Good, because he's already on his feet, practically leaping up to head towards the drink table, even if all he does is grab at cup so that he can get his water. From there, he's leaning back a little into Caleb's touch, looking at him.

His lips are shiny and pink, and Caleb's don't look much different.

"So, that was..."

Well, it definitely was.

"Yeah," Caleb agrees. He reaches to cup Michael's jaw, and watches his eyes for only a moment before leaning in for another kiss. He keeps it light, at first, in case Michael doesn't want it, but... he's pretty sure he does.

He wants it, but he's also not expecting it, which is why he lets out a surprised little sound when Caleb cups his jaw and leans in, making Michael lean up onto his toes as eagerly as he can, desperate to indulge in the kiss and take as much as possible.

Because damn, it's good.

He eases back, and though he doesn't taste the liquor on him, he's got to ask. "You're not wasted, right?"

Caleb shakes his head. "No." And even if he was, it's not his. Once he's out of range, it'll fade, just like any other emotion does. He lightly nips Michael's lower lip. "You?"

His eyes are closed as he shakes his head, still a little dazed. "Nope." Acetone doesn't count, and he hasn't had that much of it. He's giddy and eager, and loving this. He slides an arm around Caleb's waist, holding tight, and pulling him in.

"I really am thirsty though," he admits, leaning back to fill the cup with water, his eyes flickering down to Caleb's lips. "You want to stick around this party?"

He lets Michael get the water, lets him sip it if he wants, before ducking into another kiss. Then he leans back so he can see him. "Not really," he admits. "D'you wanna... go somewhere?"

Michael laughs at that, staring up at him like he's seeing him anew. "Yeah, this place is dead, right?" he jokes, as if it really is, instead of the loud, happening party they're in the middle of, but he's more than happy to get out of there.

And maybe he gets more of those kisses in the meantime, that would be a nice little perk.

"So dead," he agrees, grinning now. He pulls back, but just enough to gesture to the door. "Where should we go?" he asks. The Home seems promising, but only insofar as most of the kids are here, for this party. They might actually be alone there.

Michael isn't sure, honestly. It's not like he's got anywhere to go, so maybe back to Caleb's? His heart is pounding, racing, because he's thought about doing this, but he hasn't done it with another guy, no matter how much he'd thought about it with Alex.

"Back to yours?" he suggests hopefully, cheeks flushed and bright.

"I'm still at the Home for a little longer," he says. "But the dorm should be empty? Or we can sneak into that room again." He doesn't know — he doesn't care, he just wants to be alone with Michael, kissing him, feeling the beautiful, bright sun that he is.

"I liked that room," Michael admits, because he and Caleb had curled up in that room so nicely, and his heart beats a little faster to think about the two of them on that bed. "Wanna go there?" he suggests, eagerly, his eyes bright with hope.

"Yeah," Caleb says with a nod. "D'you have your truck?" Of course he has his truck. Caleb doesn't even need to ask, but he feels like he should anyway. And when Michael just confirms, they make their way back out through the house and to the truck in question.

There, Caleb stops, and pulls Michael in for another kiss. This one is heated, full of a promise Caleb isn't even sure he knows how to keep, but he damn well means to try. Michael is so warm, inside and out, and Caleb feels like he could melt and sink into him, and they'd just be this warm pool of honey, forever.

Right at that moment, it doesn't seem so bad.

Michael should feel guilty that he doesn't intend to be fully honest, but, "Yeah, always got my truck," he agrees quickly, seeing as he lives in it, so he wouldn't go without it, even if he'd had to lock everything inside it to make sure no one stole anything.

He's outside when Caleb catches him off guard, making his stomach swoop with the suddenness of that kiss, grabbing at him (hips, shoulders, settling in his hair), and whimpering as he practically melts into his body, like he's urging Caleb to take control.

"Outside," he says roughly, which is where his truck is. And also where they are. Look how helpful he's being.

Caleb huffs a laugh against his mouth. It's so easy to want to keep kissing him, because they both just want to keep kissing. Caleb feels like he's starting to loop, feeling Michael, feeling himself through Michael, but that's not possible. He's just still feeling empathy drunk, he's sure.

"Okay," he gasps. "Okay, okay. Let's go." He finally releases him and gently pushes him towards the truck.

Michael lets out a whining little sound when Caleb backs away, not because he's mad, but...okay, he's a little mad there's no more making out. He lets his fingers drag down Caleb's shirt, not used to wanting to kiss someone so much taller, but he tugs now, to pull him towards the truck.

Once he unlocks it, he reaches in to shove everything to the floor, so Caleb can sit. "Sorry about the mess, didn't want anyone to steal my stuff."

"No, no, it's okay," Caleb says. He climbs in and sort of tucks his legs in and around the clutter, then shuts the door. He's hard, but he does his best to ignore it. As they drive towards the Home, Caleb can feel the last threads of the drunk party-goers fading. All that's left is Michael, warm and sunny and amber. He groans softly as he feels him, and reaches over to rest his hand on his shoulder, like he just needs that physical contact.

He's really hard, and he's really pent up, so driving isn't exactly easy. It's difficult, and he feels like he can feel something from Caleb, groaning when he touches him. He's never been psychic, not really, but maybe he's hit a point of being so turned on that he's surprising even himself.

"Fuck," he whines. "Caleb," he says, and his tone is so damn needy, because he wants this, so badly.

Caleb swallows hard, and he drops his hand from Michael's shoulder to his crotch, cupping his dick through his jeans. He wants to open those jeans up, reach inside, jerk him off — just, just to take the edge off. But Michael's driving, and the longer they take to get to the Home, the longer they have to wait, so he moves his hand to Michael's thigh, instead, thumb rubbing through the denim.

Michael yelps when he does that, and suddenly, he has to think about Caleb's hand on his thigh, the rubbing, and he has to drive, but also not let his powers get out of control. He's usually so good about them, but right now he feels frayed.

"Shit," he gets out raggedly. "Can you, would you," he breathes. "Just ease off, just so I don't wreck my truck." Seeing as it's his home, he would like to avoid that.

"Right," Caleb says, and it feels impossible, but he pulls his hand away and rests it on the console between them. "Sorry, sorry, I just. You feel good. I just— I wanna make you feel good."

He bites his lip, falling quiet and trying to balance Michael's arousal and his arousal and the need passing between them like arc lightning.

"Oh, you're gonna," he guarantees, with a laugh, because that's not off the table. "You're just gonna when I'm not going to kill the both of us," he adds, and keeps driving, feeling like there's this bolt of arousal that's somehow more and he can't even explain how it's just so much, just knows that it is.

Caleb laughs, a breathless sound, and tilts his head against the seat so he can try to focus. It feels like for-fucking-ever, but they get back to the Home, and he climbs out of the truck — makes sure nothing falls out with him — and tries damn hard not to slam the door too loudly. He adjusts his jacket to hide his hardon — just in case — and waits for Michael to round the truck and join him.

Then, they head inside.

Caleb manages not to pull him into a sloppy kiss until they're in that room with the door closed, and he moans softly when he finally gets to taste him again.

Michael's needing to drag up every last ounce of his strength to be able to do this without losing his mind, but he's doing it. They're going to make it work. Once they're inside, he's tripping and stumbling, laughing like the idiot who can't believe what's happening.

He grabs at Caleb's hair to dig his fingers in, grabbing at him to messily haul him closer, driven on by that moan which only turns him on even more, fighting onto his toes to get closer for the kiss.

Caleb groans, leaning into the kiss, curling down so Michael doesn't have to stretch so much. He cups his face, buries his fingers into his hair, pulls him close, like he can drink him in.

Pulling away to speak is the hardest thing Caleb's ever done, but it's important. His brow is furrowed in concentration, but he nods.

"I've, I've never done this before," he admits, and blushes a little. "I've, I'm. I'm a virgin."