By this point the little force bubble had trapped enough heat to make the two boys inside it significantly warmer. It was almost enough to make Luke want to start shedding some of those pesky layers of clothing, especially when Mao pushed his hips against him like that. Luke's groan was low and guttural, almost animalistic. He wanted this. More than he'd ever wanted it before. He and Mao went back and forth with their silly games and their occasional trysts, but this was fucking serious. Luke didn't know if it was the jealousy or the heat of the moment or, maybe, whatever this strange, scary feeling was that was bubbling up in his chest, but whatever it was, it had made Luke snap.
Drawing away from Mao, he held the boy's gaze for a few seconds. The hand on Mao's chest moved down a little, slowly, slowly. He was just opening his mouth to speak when a door opened, and Luke's head turned, his concentration wavering enough to make the bubble around them burst. The sudden rush of cold air was enough to sober him, and he quickly drew away, panting a little from the intensity of their kisses. He looked over his shoulder, a form moving toward them, a cigarette in hand. Shit.
Luke's first impulse was to run away without another word, but right now, fueled by the passion (and frustration) of their little exchange, Luke felt like it was time for him to be done running. It was a good question that Mao had asked. Where was he going with this? True to form, Luke's answer, whispered softly against Mao's ear, was as vague and noncommittal as possible, while still getting what he wanted. "Call me. Later. Not tonight. We'll... figure this out." He looked over his shoulder to make sure that the smoker wasn't looking their way and pressed a last, short kiss to Mao's lips, although the rest of his body stayed well away. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mao."
Luke drew away and with a last look, slipped back into the party, doing his best to... cover himself.