Author: Cherry Vanilla
Fandom: As the World Turns
Pairing: Luke/Reid, Luke/Noah implied
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexual content and language
Disclaimer: not mine.
Summary: “now that I’m older/my heart’s colder.”
Spoilers for everything, including upcoming episodes.
I. I’ll fake it through the day
He has you backed against a wall, his face inches away. You’ve just provoked him for the umpteenth time, this time about his bad daddy/good daddy situation. A tingle runs up your spine and you’re starting to get hard as his body closes the distance between you. The blood rushes in your ears and you can’t even hear his words. His mouth curls up in a sneer and then he’s stalking off. He doesn’t realize why you taunt him. You’ll never admit it’s because he drives you insane and you’d like to push him against every wall you can find. No, you’ll never tell him that.
II. Read the lines in my head
You watch them kiss behind closed doors and you want to slap yourself for feeling jealous. You tell him you’ll help him out with his ‘good daddy’ because while you can be cruel for self-preservation of your own sanity, you can’t allow this kid’s dad to go to jail. Then he finds out you’re gay and it’s all ‘why didn’t you tell me?! Let’s bond over how we both have sex with guys!’ and you kind of can’t handle that. So you insult him some more, trying not to stare at those pink lips and where you want to feel them. He’s getting all gaga over his boyfriend again and you have to bite your tongue before telling him he’s wasting his time. You understand the guy is blind and has more things to worry about right now but he doesn’t seem to give a crap about this so-called love of his life. That’s not your place and for now you’ll keep acting like you despise this kid while jerking off to him any chance you get.
III. To put bad thoughts in my head
They break-up and you’re pretty sure he missed the interest in your voice and heat in your eyes when he tells you; too distraught for that, anyway. He’s lost his one true love and all you want is fist your hand through his hair and bite at his lips until they’re bruised. You know you could be avoiding him more if you truly wanted to. Instead, you seek him out at every chance you can get. And for someone who seems to hate you, he sure as hell finds you everywhere you go as well. You try not to read into his repressed sexual desires masking as hate: you always hated psychology in med school. So of course to get yourself back in check you push his buttons some more, salt in his open wounds as you tell him he suffocated Noah. It’s a good thing you never were one for psychology because, man, are you one fucked up soul. He man-handles you again and now you’ve had just about enough and tell him so. Your bodies freeze; his hand is on your stomach and something shifts imperceptibly in the air. You bolt before you do something stupid.
IV. I know you’d rather see me gone
The last thing you wanted was to ask him for money. God knows you’ve thrown the Richie-Rich thing in his face about a dozen times. You do resent him for having money. You came from nothing; your dad split when you were four and you’ve been working for as long as you can remember. You took out loans, went to college, med school, and you only just paid them off a few years ago. But he has a foundation and pull and this neurological wing is too important to half-ass. You swallow your pride and butter him up. When he mentions the other day, your heart leaps into your throat and you stutter out that nothing happened between you. You’re relieved to discover he’s just as flustered but slightly disappointed to learn he wasn’t talking about your little moment but instead the grieving father who beat you up. Well, at least you know you’re both playing the denial game.
V. Than to see me the way I am
Asking Luke Snyder for help was possible the worst thing you’ve ever done. You’re sitting in the meeting room at The Lakeview and the scent of his hipster cologne fills your nostrils. You’ve noticed this kid seems to love being all up in your personal space. Or maybe he really does hate you as much as he says, but knows what it does to you and therefore tries to get as close as possible (you’ve never psychoanalyzed anything as much as you have these past few weeks).
“I just don’t think you’re maximizing the space in waiting room. And, it looks so cold, sterile.”
“It’s a blueprint, Mr. Snyder, what do you expect? And this isn’t Extreme Home Makeover – I don’t need a decorator, I need a funder.”
He turns to you with that bottled up frustrated energy you’ve come to love. “Okay, there’s so many places I could go with that sentence,” (and the hands, god, you love the hands flailing anxiously), “but I’m gonna go with the one you’d probably least expect: Can you please stop with the Mr. Snyder crap? I keep expecting to see my father behind my back…”
You open your mouth to respond and he doesn’t disappoint when he continues, “and don’t, don’t do the whole ‘which daddy’ thing. It’s getting a little old.”
You laugh sardonically. “I’m becoming soooo predictable. We’re done for today.”
He glares at you while you pack up the prints, all the way to the elevators. It’s unnerving. Naturally, he waits until the doors close to continue. “Well?”
You stare stoically ahead. “Well, what, Mr. Snyder?” You love infuriating him.
He turns. “There! Can you just, stop? I have a first name, you know.”
You face him. God, those eyes. Fiery. “Luke, okay?” It pains you to admit how much you love saying his name. He seems to like it too. So you decide to use this to your advantage. “Luke,” you repeat and closing the distance between you as he backs up to the nearest wall. “Luke, Luke, Luke. Happy now?” He unconsciously licks his lips and you just about die.
He breaks the stare. “Only if I can return the favor.”
Before you can answer the lights flicker and the elevator jolts, leaving you in near-darkness as your bodies collide. Your eyes meet at the same time but you can’t focus on him right now. “Shit. We’re.. we’re stuck.”
“Yeah,” he sounds a little breathless. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you’re beginning to sweat and unfortunately it has nothing to do with this GQ model pressed up against you. You stumble back and unbutton your collar.
“Are you.. okay?” It’s that half-incredulous, half-amused tone you’ve come to adore. Why you’re using words like love and adore in your subconscious when describing him you simply cannot process at the moment.
“Fine, I’m fine.”
“Nooo. You’re not..” He starts to move closer but you put a hand out to stop him.
“Just. I just get panic attacks – in. Closed spaces, s’fine.” You can hardly speak anymore and you’re feeling light-headed. Suddenly he’s in your personal space again, tilting your face upwards as his hands frame your cheeks. This isn’t helping the light-headed thing. “Hey, look at me. Just take deep breaths, okay? We’ll be out of here in no time.” You’ve squeezed your eyes shut and can barely hear him.
That gets your attention and when you open your eyes he’s right there. You shift your gaze to his lips; they form your name perfectly. “Didn’t say you could call me that,” you gasp.
His laugh is genuine. “Just returning the favor. Now keep breathing.” You do as he says, his hands never leaving your face, thumbs brushing ever so lightly across your temples.
Your eyes meet again and this time the heat in his is undeniable. You’ve forgotten all about the current circumstances and your pants begin to tighten. “Luke…”
He looks alarmed but moves imperceptibly closer until the whirling of power jolts you both out of the haze.
You hate The Lakeview, you hate elevators and you hate this fucking town.
As the doors open, you simply throw a “thanks for that, gotta go save some lives’ in his direction and, as is becoming a trend, bolt.
VI. It’s a comedy of errors, you see
“Hey,” you hear his voice before you see him and turn to face him in the hallway. Honestly, what does he do all day? It appears as though he’s been put in this town to show up wherever you might be, drive you a tad crazy, disappear and do it all again tomorrow. He really needs to find a better hobby.
“Mr..” you start until he glares at you. You sigh. “What can I do for you, Luke?”
“Nothing, I just.. ran into Noah. Said his pre-surgical testing went well.”
“Yep, I should be getting my pretty hands in there by next week.”
He makes a face of disgust and you grin internally.
“Annnyway.. I just wanted to say you don’t have to worry about keeping the funding a secret. I told him.”
Your mouth quirks up even though your heart sinks. “Did you now? What happened to not using it to get him back?”
He looks down and flushed. He follows you as you walk into an empty hospital room and pretend to look for something in one of the cabinets. Luckily, he doesn’t call you out on it.
“I’m not. I – I’m not.”
Uh-huh. You turn, face hardened now. This is why you never should have let any sort of guard down with this kid. How can you possibly compete with Prince Noah?
“Sure you’re not. Let me guess—he praised you for your good deed, giving the honorable Noah Mayer seal of approval.”
His eyes narrow. “What exactly is your problem with Noah? I thought your problem was with me.”
You sigh heavily. “You know what, Mr. Snyder, I don’t have a problem with either of you – I just want to be left alone.”
You brush past him but don’t get far. “Oh really? Because it sounds like you’re jealous.”
God damn this kid for not letting things go. You decide to try a different tactic. You stalk toward him until he takes a step backward. “Is that what you want me to say, Luke?” You draw out his name slow, like a lover.
“I –“ He licks his lips again.
“What game are you playing, Mr. Snyder? You think just because I’m gay I have to want you?” You step even closer until he’s caught you and a hospital cart.
“Luke,” he breathes.
That’s not what you expected to hear. You re-group and dive-in again. “Is it important for me to call you that? Because Noah did? Is that what you want? Someone to desire you again? Because how could anyone not want a hot rich number like Luke Snyder.”
He flinches. “You have me all wrong..”
You smirk. “Do I, now?”
He ducks his head. “Noah.. he was my first. My.. only.”
Now that throws you for a loop and suddenly this isn’t going where you hoped it would. He sounds and looks like a kicked puppy.
When he meets your eyes again, the intensity returns. “So no, I don’t expect every gay man to want me. But regardless, it seems to me like you do.”
Jesus Christ, you’re hard now. You can’t keep up this façade anymore. You had a good run, Reid Oliver. Time to raise the white flag.
You lean in a little closer and murmur, “Is that what you want to hear?”
His eyes are a mixture of need, want, and confusion. You run your fingers through his hair and his eyes fall shut.
“Do you want me to say it, Luke?”
You need him to answer. You can’t admit this without the go ahead. You can’t put yourself out there.
His eyes open and now there’s only heat there. “Say it..”
“Dr Oliver, you’re needed in Trauma One. Dr. Oliver, Trauma One.” The page over the loudspeaker is like a bucket of cold water and once again, you curse this town to high hell.
“Fuck,” you breathe and he looks at you, startled.
“I should go,” he’s panicked and no, not anymore.
You grab his arm. “Come to The Lakeview tonight. Room 401.”
He still looks scared.
You soften your voice. “Just.. we’ll go over some more plans, okay? Doesn’t have to be anything..”
“Okay.” Thank god he cut you off because you were starting to sound really pathetic.
He looks completely dazed. “Okay.”
He hurries out the door and you try to remember how to breathe before heading into surgery.
VII. I come back when you want me to
You take another drink of scotch and glance at the clock. 8:45. You down the glass and put your face in your palms. You don’t understand why you’re letting some kid that’s barely out of his teens to get under your skin like this. And since when did you become a cougar, anyway?
You start to pour another drink when there’s a knock at the door. This stomach flipping, heart jumping thing needs to stop. You’re a world renowned surgeon, not a 15-year-old girl with a crush on Edward from Twilight.
Another knock and yeah, you’d better get that.
His hair is perfectly in place, his shirt is black and tight, and his jeans... let’s not go there.
“Hey..” he runs his hand through that perfect hair, effectively mussing it up.
You stand there for long seconds. He starts to fidget and you suddenly miss his sarcastic, infuriating nature.
“You got those blueprints?”
Okay, let’s go with that. “Yeah, come on in.”
You riffle through your briefcase on the table and nod towards the scotch. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll pass,” he laughs shakily.
You can’t do this anymore and drop the briefcase along with the pretense.
“Pretend it’s this afternoon. I never get paged. Tell me what happens.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and lowers his eyes. “I can’t do this like this.”
He stares at you, frustrated. “Like this,” he waves at the air between you. “We don’t like each other… we.”
You edge around the table and into his personal space. “You need all sunshine and roses, is that it?”
You don’t stop and push him back against the door. “Sorry, but that isn’t me. And for some reason, you can’t deal with what you want from me until you’re pushed--”
“Stop,” he breathes and his lips part.
“You’re no different,” he shoots back.
You curl your fingers in his hair. “You’re wrong. I can admit I want you without being backed against a wall. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”
“Bullshit.” You feel him shiver and press your hips against his. He’s hard and heat almost makes you gasp. You let him feel what he’s doing to you.
“Nah, for once I’m being sincere. You’ve driven me crazy.. I’ve tried to keep you away from me but you just. Won’t. Listen. Why is that, Mr. Snyder?”
His head falls back as you move slowly against him. “Reid..”
You grip his hair harder and force him to look at you. “I admit I want you. I admit.. I like you, despite my inherent nature to dislike everyone. Now why don’t you do the same, Luke? I feel it, but I want you to say it.”
He attacks your mouth and you moan loudly. His tongue slips past your lips and it’s dirty, and hot and my god is he a firecracker. “I want you,” he pants through kisses. “I fucking want you, you bastard.”
You slam him against the door and lift his leg, coaxing him to wrap it around your waist. You grab his hands, pin them above his head and start kissing your way down his neck. “So hot, god you are so hot.”
He struggles against your hold. “Let me touch you.”
You almost want to deny him. Instead you strip him of his shirt and savor his hands that immediately grab your ass.
You kiss him hard, fucking his mouth with your tongue. He matches your intensity, pulling you closer as your erections rub together “I want to suck you,” you breathe against his lips. “Wanna blow your mind.”
“Oh jesus,” he groans. His hands start fumbling with the buttons of your shirt, and then they’re everywhere, untucking, unbuckling, and before you know it you’re both in your boxers and you’re leading him toward the bed.
You cover your body with his, touch him everywhere but his cock. He writhes beneath you. Finally, you cup his erection through his boxers and he cries out.
“How long has it been for you?”
He sucks in a breath as your hand deftly slips inside his boxers and strokes him from base to tip. “Too long.. oh my god, Reid.”
You nip at his lips again, kissing him slowly, passionately. He melts against you, arching up, his hand snaking in front you palm your cock as you moan.
You kiss your way down his chest, and take him in your mouth. His hands fist your hair and he pants your name. You want to hear him scream for you. You want to make him forget his only other lover.
“Oh god, I’m gonna.”
You suck him harder, faster, his hips thrust and his hands curl in your hair. You take him all the way down and if you were watching you’d know by the sound he just made that his eyes have rolled back in his head. Take that, Noah Mayer.
He comes hard, panting your name. You flop down beside him and wait for him to return the favor. It doesn’t take long before he’s on top of you. Except he’s staring at you. Suddenly, he’s kissing you slow and deep, tasting himself. Then he’s kissing down your body, slow, so slow. You don’t want it this way. You think this is all he knows.
He looks up at you, eyes bright, mouthing your chest. “What?”
You sigh as he goes lower. “Nothing..”
He sucks you in tentatively, you push upward and he chokes a little. You stroke his hair and gently thrust against him; he takes more and moans around you. “You like that, baby? God, that fucking mouth. Wanna fuck you so bad.”
He moans louder and you claw at his back. “You want that, don’t you?”
He moans again. You’ve never had anyone this sweet. When he pulls your orgasm from you, you let loose all the tension and frustration since you arrived in this town. He coughs a little and runs to the bathroom. It shouldn’t be cute, but it is.
When he gets back, you’re still panting and naked and he’s suddenly awkward.
“What’s wrong, Richie-Rich?”
That gets a laugh and an eye-roll, but only for a moment. The uncertainty returns. “So, guess I should get going then?”
You prop yourself up on your elbow. “Stay a while. Unless you have a curfew.”
Another look of disgust and then a sly smile as he stalks toward the bed. “You saying you want me to say?”
It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Just get your ass over here.”
He plops down and turns toward you. Now you feel awkward and you both do the whole head tilt left, head tilt right until you capture his lips in a searing kiss and cover his upper body with your own. His hands comb through your hair.
“I’m sorry.” His words startle you and you frown down at him.
His hand continues stroking your hair. You love the feel of it.
“For not admitting what I want.”
“It’s just… look, I don’t want you to think this is a rebound thing.”
You flinch a little. “Let’s save the Oprah moment for another time, huh? I want you, you want me. Let’s just go for this, okay?” Now isn’t the time it explore how deeply you feel for him – how you haven’t been in any sort of meaningful physical relationship in 5 years yet your first instinct isn’t to run.
He smiles brightly. “Yeah. Let’s go for it.”
As you cover his body with your own you hope it’ll be that simple. Nothing ever seems to be in this damn town.