Chapter 22: A Night With His Hero
The blood on Scott’s hands had dried to a flaky brown. He sat on the curb two blocks from the frat house, the sirens a distant wail approaching Dale’s body. Michelle had taken Liv somewhere, leaving him alone in the shuddering aftermath. His mind was a blank, white noise. Then his phone buzzed. A text from Luke. Heard what happened. Where are you? Need to see you. Need to know you’re safe.
A sob caught in Scott’s throat. That voice of anchor in the chaos. He typed his location with trembling fingers. Twenty minutes later, Luke’s unmarked car pulled silently to the curb. Luke was out in an instant, still in his street clothes, his face etched with a convincing mask of concern. He didn’t speak, just folded Scott into his arms, the strength of his embrace crushing the air from Scott’s lungs.
Scott broke. He wept into Luke’s jacket, the smells of leather and gun oil and man flooding his senses, drowning out the basement’s copper stench. “He killed her,” Scott choked. “He just… killed her.”
“I know,” Luke murmured into his hair, his hand cradling the back of Scott’s head. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Luke took him home. Not to Scott’s apartment, but to his own, a spartan place that felt more like a tactical operations center than a home. He sat Scott on the couch, brought him a glass of water, and kneeled before him, his hands on Scott’s knees. The care was paralyzing.
“Look at me, Scott.” Scott lifted his eyes, swimming with tears. Luke’s gaze was intense, unwavering. “You survived. Again. You’re stronger than you know.”
The words unlocked something desperate. The weight of the night, of six years of shadows, of Dale’s last wet breath, collapsed onto Scott’s chest. He stared at Luke, at this man who had pulled him from a closet of corpses, who had been his only constant in the wreckage. The confession tumbled out, raw and jagged.
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep almost dying without…” He swallowed, his heart a frantic bird against his ribs. “I love you, Luke. I’ve been in love with you. For years.”
Luke didn’t move, his expression unreadable.
Scott pushed on, the words a flood. “It’s your strength. It’s how safe I feel when you’re around. When we’re just hanging out, watching a movie, I can actually forget. The halfway house, the blood, all of it… it just goes quiet. You make it quiet. I know you’re straight. I know nothing can ever happen. But I couldn’t die tonight without you knowing.”
The silence stretched, terrifying. Then Luke’s lips curved, a slow, deep smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. A soft chuckle escaped him. “Who the fuck ever said I was straight?”
Before Scott could process the words, Luke’s hand was on his cheek, his thumb rough against Scott’s jawline. Then Luke’s mouth was on his, not asking, but taking. The kiss was a claim, hard and demanding, all tongue and teeth and suppressed hunger. Scott gasped into it, a surge of electric need short-circuiting his grief.
His body reacted on instinct. His arms wound around Luke’s neck, his slender legs lifting to hook around Luke’s waist, pulling him closer. Luke stood easily, hoisting Scott’s slight frame as if he weighed nothing, never breaking the bruising kiss. He carried him like that, Scott clinging to him, down the hallway to the bedroom.
Luke tossed him onto the mattress. They stripped in a frenzied silence, fabric tearing. Scott, revealed, was all smooth, latte-colored skin and delicate angles, a stark contrast to Luke’s massive, towering form. Luke was a landscape of dense muscle and coarse, dark hair that spread across his chest, trailed down his sternum, and thickened around his groin.
His cock was already fully erect, thick and veined and intimidating. He fisted it, stroking slowly as he looked down at Scott. “This what you wanted? This what you’ve been thinking about when you looked at me?”
“Yes,” Scott breathed, his own cock aching.
“Then get over here and taste it.”
Scott scrambled off the bed, sinking to his knees on the floor. He nuzzled first into the thatch of coarse hair, inhaling Luke’s musky scent, before taking his heavy balls into his mouth. They filled his mouth, a weighty sac of skin and power. He worshipped them, licking and sucking, as Luke groaned above him, tangling his hands in Scott’s hair.
“Good boy. Now the cock. Open up.”
Scott took the head, then more, his jaw straining. Luke fucked his mouth with slow, deep thrusts, his grip controlling Scott’s head. “You take it so pretty. Always knew you would.”
He pulled Scott up by the hair and threw him back on the bed, on his stomach. Luke’s hand came down hard on his ass, once, twice, the smack loud in the room. Scott cried out, pushing back into the sting. He heard the tear of a foil packet, the slick sound of lube.
Then Luke was on him, his heavy body pinning Scott down, his mouth at Scott’s ear. “Mine. You understand? This tight little ass is mine now.” The blunt pressure at his entrance was immense, a stretching burn that stole his breath. Luke didn’t wait, didn’t gentle him. He pushed in with one relentless, possessive thrust, sheathing himself completely.
Scott screamed, a sound of pain and overwhelming fulfillment, his fingers clawing the sheets. Luke held still, buried deep, letting him adjust for only a second. “You feel that? That’s me inside you. Remembering that. No one else fits you like this. No one else ever will.”
Then he began to move. Deep, punishing strokes that shoved Scott up the bed with their force. Each thrust was a conquest, a branding. Scott was sobbing, muttering “yes” and “please” and “daddy” between gasps, the pain melting into a profound, submissive pleasure. Luke was ruining him, and he loved it.
Luke leaned over, blanketing Scott’s body, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, aimed with precision. “You’re my good boy,” he growled, the dirty talk a rasp against Scott’s sweat-slicked neck. “My survivor. I pull you out of hell and this is how you thank me. Taking my cock like a fucking champion.”
The climb was relentless. Scott came first, untouched, his orgasm ripped from him with a shattered cry, his body clenching wildly around Luke’s driving cock. That tightness tipped Luke over the edge. He gave three final, brutal slams and emptied himself with a guttural groan, his teeth sinking into Scott’s shoulder.
They collapsed, a heap of sweat and spent need. Luke stayed inside him for a long minute, softening, before pulling out. He rolled Scott onto his back, his gaze possessive, tracing the bite mark on his shoulder. He pulled Scott close, his voice low and final against his temple.
“We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”