Category Linkin Park

The Distance Between Us by starscream

i want to climb inside of you and see your heart beat, your heart. beat.

un-beta’d; for ella

The Distance Between Us

Mike wakes up and Chester’s face is right in his.

He doesn’t start, isn’t frightened; just smiles because Chester’s smiling at him.

“What are you doing?” Mike murmurs under the weight of his friend. Chester is slumped over him, their chests crushed together, Chester’s arms crossed over Mike’s and his chin resting on his hands.

“Just looking,” Chester replies, his smile unwavering.

Mike laughs and Chester shakes with him as he does so.

“At anything in particular?” He asks and wraps his arms around his friend.

“You’ve got a freckle in your ear,” Chester replies and his eyes finally break away from Mike’s, looking toward the side of his face.

“Have I?” Mike asks and reaches a hand up to brush over Chester’s short, barely-there Mohawk.

“Yeah,” he breathes and stretches his hand up to Mike’s ear.

Mike squirms a bit as Chester’s warm fingertip brushes inside the shell of his ear, his hands running down Chester’s back, rubbing a bit over the dip of his lower back before settling on his hips.

“I never noticed it before today,” Chester continues and lets his hand smooth down to cup the back of Mike’s neck, stuck between the warm flesh and the red couch.

Mike doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“I like it though,” he goes on and diverts his eyes to Mike’s face again. “Like the freckles on your chin that you can’t really see because of your facial hair.”

Mike blushes at that because he finds it strange.

Of course he too notices things like that about Chester but he would never mention it aloud. Like his unhealed lip piercing, the scar above his lips where he hit himself with a tennis racket, the handsome swell of his skull below his hairline, the tired nature of his eyes, how his smile is uniquely his own, and how despite being frail and teased all his life he’d grown to have perfectly tone biceps and how every time his muscles flexed beneath that flesh it sent a delicious shiver down Mike’s spine.

Mike bites his lip because Chester is brushing his fingers along his chin with that same smile on his face.

Mike wants to tell Chester to stop staring at him like that. So he does.

“Stop,” he murmurs a bit uncertainly, breath hitching with worry.

Chester’s eyes immediately snap up from their focus on his chin and meet Mike’s.

“Stop what?” He asks and Mike wants to die a little because Chester definitely sounds offended.

“Staring,” Mike nearly whispers and shifts beneath his friend’s body which is still pressed tightly to his. Chester squirms a bit in Mike’s arms and brushes his hand down his chest before wrapping his arms around his waist, fitting nicely between the dip in Mike’s back and the curve of the couch.

“Why?” He asks and carries on with his hard gaze.

“Because you shouldn’t be,” Mike says and finds that no matter how uncomfortable he may be in this moment it doesn’t make it any easier to tear his eyes from Chester’s. He can’t fucking look away.

“Why?” Chester repeats innocently.

And Mike feels a little upset about this because it’s not really fair. It’s one thing to be ugly but to admit it isn’t brave; just pathetic. He does so anyway.

“Because I’m ugly,” he says.

Chester is appalled at how broken and serious Mike sounds in this moment and knows that if at thirty-one years old Mike is still living under the delusion that he is unattractive then saying he isn’t really won’t do a damn thing, or at least that’s what he tells himself, and that’s what makes it the easiest thing in the world to strain his neck up and let his lips meet the plump flesh of Mike’s cheek.

And that first kiss, and the way Mike inhales sharply and his fingers dig into Chester’s lower back, only make the rest all the more simple.

So Chester pushes himself up, presses his hands against the slightly reclined back of the couch, and hovers over his friend as he presses his lips against Mike’s; presses them softly, carefully, and sincerely.

And when Mike’s lips part with a gasp and his eyes bug in surprise it’s the perfect moment for Chester to brush his tongue over those lips, wet them briefly, before forging on and exploring the inside of his friend’s mouth.

Mike moans because Chester’s tongue is supple and warm and flicking about his mouth, rubbing along the roof, sliding around his own tongue that reacts naturally to the situation and flutters playfully with the intruder.

Chester smiles into the kiss and pulls his tongue out of his friend’s mouth, lets his teeth nibble on Mike’s lower lip, tugs at it a bit before suckling it into his mouth.

Mike doesn’t realize Chester’s pulling on his shirt until they have to break their kiss to get it over his head and suddenly he isn’t so sure that they should be doing this.

“No,” he whines and tugs at his shirt, trying pathetically to draw it back down over his stomach but Chester’s hand is already running over the hard muscles, exploring the rise and dip of his abdomen and petting the soft hair around and beneath his navel.

“Why not?” Chester murmurs into the kiss and Mike hisses when Chester’s hand disappears beneath the loose waist of his jeans and boxers, grabs at the edge of the couch when that hand grazes the base of his fast-developing erection.

But Chester easily lifts his friend’s arms up and pulls the shirt over his head, dropping it on the couch and he moans in delight as Mike’s bare chest is revealed, sighs gratefully and slides his arms around his back, presses his face against the warm, trembling flesh.

“Chester,” Mike gasps nervously and feels tears stinging his eyes. “Chester please,” he cries and shakily places his hands on Chester’s shoulders, pushing.

“Please what, Mike?” Chester asks and crawls up, straddles Mike and takes his hands, presses them against the red couch. He let’s his eyes travel the heaving expanse of Mike’s chest briefly before noting the tears in his friend’s eyes, how he blinks furiously and they slip down his cheeks.

“Please don’t look at me,” Mike whispers and turns his head away, stares at the closed door to his right. He moans when he feels Chester’s tongue lapping at his chest, at his hard nipples, gasps as Chester’s teeth graze the sensitive flesh and can’t help bucking his hips against his touch.

“Has no one ever told you the truth, Mike?” Chester asks as he trails his tongue over the hard pectoral muscles, along Mike’s collar bone, along the dips and curves and presses soft kisses to the pulsing beat beneath his jaw.

“About what?” Mike gasps and let’s his hands grab hold of Chester’s biceps, feeling the muscles flex beneath his touch, his senses electrified as Chester’s nose nuzzles affectionately through his facial hair before his tongue laps at his ear lobe.

“About how beautiful you are?” Chester’s voice is thick and deep as he presses his cheek against Mike’s and sighs quietly as his whole weight falls on his friend, arms slipping around his trembling shoulders, hips pressing tightly against his stomach.

Mike wants to turn away, but certainly not crawl away because there’s no denying that he appreciates Chester in his arms; he appreciates his touches and his honesty and he can overlook how hideous he feels for brief moments if it means Chester is affectionate with him. While Chester fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck Mike revels in the weight pressing him against the couch, the warmth Chester provides, and even the reality of what has just transpired between the two of them. He is still ugly, though.

“Mike?” Chester murmurs and lifts his face up off his friend’s, stares him straight in the eyes and arches a brow slightly.

Mike just shakes his head, turns away, and stares again at the closed door. He thinks about someone coming through and seeing this scene. He bets he could handle someone seeing the intimacy, but certainly not his bare flesh. Certainly not his awkward skin tone, not the little imperfections like a scar here or a bruise there, not his broad frame and the dark hair below his navel. He is everything that someone like Chester is not. And Chester is everything that he is not.

Chester is flawless. Chester is milky skinned, hairless, fit and tone and the way his hipbones jut out and the pelvic V rises above his waistline is perfect. Chester has soft, small pink nipples, colorful drawings scattered over the swell of his muscles, and sensual fluidity every time he lifts a finger.

Mike pinches his eyes shut and lets his lips fall open as Chester’s hips press hard down on his lap, tries not to think about what it would be like to feel Chester’s entire body naked against his own, wonders what it would be like to be Chester.

“Don’t arouse me on purpose,” Mike mutters under his breath and squeezes Chester against him. He tries to block out the delicious laugh that hits his neck in a warm breath.

“I’ve got to get your attention somehow,” he says and Mike whines and arches his back as Chester nibbles on his ear lobe briefly. “You’re somewhere else entirely and I’m sitting here, you’re shirtless, I want to tell you how fucking beautiful you are but I don’t think you’ll even hear me. Or believe me,” he finishes with a hint of sadness in his voice and tips Mike’s face toward his, forces him to look his way.

“You’re right,” Mike says and strains his neck forward because he wants a kiss regardless and Chester lets him have it. “I won’t believe you.”

“Well I don’t just come onto people I’m not attracted to,” Chester says and rolls his hips a bit, then smiles when he sees Mike’s eyes flutter at the contact.

“You had-” Mike falters as Chester sits up a bit and yanks his own t-shirt over his head, “uh… fuck, fucking eye surgery. It’s like you haven’t even got your own eyes anymore; what would you know about attraction?”

Chester rolls his eyes as he leans back over Mike, the pair of them moaning softly under their breath as their skin comes into contact, dark nipples brushing with pink, hard stomachs pressing tightly together. Chester sighs and his arms are back around Mike’s shoulders, head resting comfortably against his bicep as his body rises and falls steadily with Mike’s breath.

“You’re silly Mike,” he says calmly and lets his eyes fall shut for the moment. “Don’t think just because you don’t agree with me, that I’m wrong, or that my opinion isn’t my own. I see what I see and it’s my interpretation that matters.”

“Your interpretation is bullshit,” Mike says but would say anything at this point to keep Chester’s warm skin against his own, to keep his hands running softly up and down his friend’s exposed back, over the tattoos he knows are there but can’t see when his eyes fall shut as well.

“My interpretation is flawless,” Chester murmurs and presses his slim lips against the nearest flesh of Mike’s collar bone.

“Bullshit,” Mike whispers as he’s lulled to rest by the weight on his chest.

“Flawless,” Chester says with a tired smile before falling asleep.

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