The Flock of Luka

Their parents returns with smiles, hugs, kisses and promises to never leave again. Darren’s father even cuddles a bit with Bob, who honestly doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it that much.

“Darren, how have you been, honey? Have your brothers been nice to you?” his mother asks, embracing her youngest son in a breathtaking hug.

“I’ve been good, mom, I’ve been, I’ve been good,” he presses out from his mother’s tight grip, patting her back slightly. “Air, mom, air,” he pleads and she lets go, kissing his forehead.

“When are you telling them?” Chris asks silently that night, edging closer to the younger boy. Bob and Greta actually obeyed Darren’s mother’s orders and sleeps in the barn, but Darren, being used to sleeping with Chris next to him, convinced her to let him stay. (“You didn't have them in the barn, did you?" she asks, amused and Darren bends his head down to avoid her eyes.)

“I don’t know,” Darren replies, snuggling into the bare skin of Chris’ chest, inhaling the scent that calms him down so easily.

He thinks about the night when they sat on the hay loft, watching the stars. The night they almost kissed on. They haven’t kissed after that either, but Darren often wishes that they will.

“What was it you could do?” he asks instead, smiling softly as Chris tucks his head under his chin, securing his arms around his neck.

“I can show you…?” he suggests and Darren nods eagerly. “Alright… just relax” he orders softly, telling the younger boy to close his eyes.

Suddenly, images flood Darren’s head. Soft images and it takes him a while to understand what they are, set in such a daze.

One particular image sets itself in front of him. It’s two bodies, pressed together. The full moon hangs heavy above their heads, glistering off their damp skin. They’re on the rock, Darren realises. The rock by the pond in the forest.

Then he’s in it. He’s the one under the other, they’re kissing feverishly, no clothes on either of them. The cold stone presses against his skin as his hands run up and down the sides of the other body.

“So beautiful,” Chris whispers against the sensitive skin below his ear at the same time as he realises his own arousal.

He moans against Chris’ collarbone, bucking his hips up for more contact and the body on top of him groans in response.

One of Chris’ hands slip between their bodies and Darren quickly becomes a mess of moans and pleasure. He comes soon – maybe too soon – and then he’s back in his bedroom, panting harshly as Chris’ arms are still around him.

He laughs breathily. “Wow… did I just…?”

Chris joins his laughter and nods. “Yeah, sort of. Not in reality, but in your mind, yes.”

“That’s-that’s what you do?” Darren asks in awe, circling Chris’ waist.

“Not really, I mean, yeah, that too. But it’s more like me putting images in peoples… in peoples’ minds, either I continue them or I let their minds work on their own, let them use their own imagination,” he explains. “And you, Darren Wilson, have a very, very dirty mind,” he teases.

Darren snorts nonchalantly. “You started it, Lassie,” he retorts, but smiles to show that he’s not mad.

“Oh, shut up, you!” Chris laughs and kisses him. Soft and slow, not that long-lasting either, but all Darren can think is finally.