#dark!luke

"Back to your cabins, now" you commanded to a couple of campers who thought they were being sneaky enough for you not to notice their silhouettes in the dark trees. Having to act like a parent was something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It felt demanding and invasive, the idea scratched your brain in all the wrong places.

As you heard the footsteps drift away, the thin wind crashed against your cheeks. You closed your eyes, just for a moment. You took the deep breath from the cold air, burning your nosestrills and shaking your lungs. The starts were shining beautifully at this occasion, and you remembered those times in which you were the one sneaking out after hours, meeting up with friends by the lake to whisper all the gossip and dip in the water. Luke was almost always there, too.

But if we were to talk about what you and Luke used to do, it'd be never ending.

A few steps behind you startled you. You stopped and looked at your watch. It was late, normally if you catch someone sneaking out this late it would've been just a couple kids. You couldn't see anyone, not even a shadow, but you knew someone was there, you heard it clearly.  With a sigh and both hands on your hips, your voice raises through the clearing, "Alright, listen, if you don't want to get in trouble with Mr. D for sneaking out, you better head back to your cabins right this moment! Understood?!"

No one answered, as expected. It's not like you ever waited for a reply, but right now, you only heard the crickets. You must've been losing your mind, and it was only the third week. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed the bridge of your nose, turning your body to start walking again. You were tired, you've had a rough day, you deserved to rest.

And the second you took a step, you stopped again. You were confused. You'd recognize that figure anywhere, but it couldn't be. It was impossible. Hands on his pockets, perfectly erect back, not a twitch in his posture. You stared in disbelief, taking in the image of him, here, now. Like a tourist in a strange place, a painting that didn't belong anywhere.

Luke stood still, eyes looking right back at you. He wasn't smiling, but rather biting back the deep need of giving you his usual smirk. "Well, I'd recognize that voice anywhere," he said with a raspy voice, "I can't believe they put you in my old place" he shrugged his shoulders.

You swallowed, thick, tight and uncomfortable. And suddenly, everything came rushing back, like blood to the head. He took a single step closer, his eyes burning into yours with fierceness. "I had already forgotten about you," you masked the rapid beating of your heart with a confident tone, "Yet here you are". You saw the umbearable raise of his eyebrows, the one he did when something annoyed him. "What are you doing here?" you asked.

He shrugged again and shook his head, "Just passing by"

"No" your heels dugged to the ground, "You don’t get to come around and play your games. Not anymore."

Your stare was as sharp as a dagger, like the one hiding under your jeans, poking your upper thigh. You'd learned something from so many years at camp; don't walk out disarmed.

He remained standing, like a soldier, waiting for you to speak so he'd attack you ten times harder. "How did you trespass camp borders?" you ask, suddenly hitting yourself with the wave of realization that he was, in fact, not supposed to be here, despite being a demigod.

"Those campers you put as guards were a little weak," he responded, your brows flinched in anger. A few campers offered to do shifts of guarding at camp borders, especially around Thalia's tree, after Luke's majestic checkmate lowered the feeling of safety. "But don't worry, they'll eventually wake up".

"They better” you bit, “You've done enough"

He chuckled, and it hit a cord. It felt weird to hear him, specially like this, after months.

"Seriously, why are you here?" you ask again, impatiently.

"Like I said," he starts, his voice getting lower, "Just passing by. Wanted to see how everything was going, check on a few things, say hello-," he said, taking a step forward, which he immediately regrets when you pulled out your dagger. Sharp, heavy. Luke figured you recently polished it. He rose his hands up in the air, "Whoo," he chuckled, "Hello there" he smiled.

"You know damn well I'll stab you if I have to" you said.

You saw his eyes, barely getting any light from the moon splashing onto the lake, looking down at the weapon, then at your face. "I have no doubt," his voice sounded so sincere, and he knew. He knew if you had the chance, and the will, you'd have his neck pinned to the ground with a clean stab, just like he had shown you, "But I assure you, yn, you don't want to make a scene"

You processed his words. There's no way Luke came all the way here, from wherever he was standing, to here, all by himself. You knew how many campers he took, how many followed, and only the gods know how many followed him after he left. He must've applied one of those cold tactics he had and loved to use during capture the flag. His little soldiers waiting for you to make a mistake so they'll hurt you, or the rest of the campers in their surrounded cabins, oblivious to the scene happening just a few meters away, or perhaps, both.

You still held your dagger with a tight grip, looking directly at his face. You breathe through your lips. Your lungs tightening if you kept inhaling through your nose like a mad bull. It was so tempting to go ahead and slash him across the face, like the one time you got the upper hand during training.

He took your silence as an initiative to take a careful step forward again. "What did you do with them?" you ask, truly frightened of what he could've done. After all, you don't know him anymore.

"Nothing I haven't done before", he says. You look at him, puzzled, "I've been in and out of this place more times than you can believe"

That made your facade crumble a little. "What?" you inquire.

"Come on," he sang, "How'd you think I knew I would find you right here, right now?"

Your face was burning with embarrassment.

"I've been keeping an eye on you for a long time", he said, and now, you truly saw him. Under the moonlight, his features sharpened. He was angry, you saw him better. His jaw tightened with the grip of his teeth, and that ugly scar across his face was just as prominent and dominant as the rest of him. He'd gotten stronger, you noticed. It wasn't something you could see, but rather feel. His gaze had turned darker, sharper, and the purse of his lips wasn't real anymore, because he knew that in between you two, if one had to lose, it was you.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know everything" he takes another step, and your fingers clench tighter on the hilt of your dagger. You felt exposed, naked, like a child being found out of a prank, "Your routine, your training, your camp duties," he continues, and a wave of disgust washed over you. He dared to smirk "Your shower time".

"So,” you interrupt, “you came all the way here just to tell me you've been spying on me?" you dared with superb tone, "Not so smart, I see"

His smirk faded. "No," he said, "I've come to give you a choice" You were silent, but the fire inside of you was burning so bright, you felt the rage holding your weight down. "In fact, I've come hoping you choose the right choice. I already asked you to join me once"

You scoffed. "You need me that much?"

His energy grew as big as a lion's. "You've become something so much more powerful than what I remember," he continued, and his tone started to change, that familiar persuading tone that would've put you on your knees before, and you had to fight the feeling now, "I can't let you go to waste"

"What makes you think I would ever follow you?" you spoke with disgust coating your words, "You already asked once and I said no, so why come back to waste more time?"

He stepped even closer this time. You sensed he was holding back something. A feeling, a movement. Something he’s been wanting to tell you for a long time, yet for obvious reasons, you never tried to contact Luke again.

"Why did you leave me?" he inquired suddenly, and his concerned tone left you speechless, unable to fight back. "For this place? Was it better to stay here instead of looking up to the ones that truly have the power?"

"You said it." you bit back suddenly, "They have the power, Luke. Not you"

He sighed with gratitude, "And that's about to change. You don't know, not even the biggest of the gods knows, how many things are coming. How great the times are about to become" he looked for something in your eyes, something that, as small as it was, would join his own sparkle. "And all this time, I wanted you there. You are wasted potential, yn, don't you see?"

"Come on, Luke. Is that what you say to all the girls that refuse to join you?"

He laughed, and his breath hit your face coldly. "You were so always special, huh?" he said, and now he was inches away from your face. You moved back. "I wanted you to see me succeed. I want you to help me build a better world. But," his hand went up, and touched the dagger between you two. You didn't flinch. "Why did you have to be so blind?"

"I'm not blind, Luke. I'm just not stupid, unlike you"

"Don't act so innocent" he spat back, his face contorted in anger, "You know how many lives could've been saved if you didn't decide to play hero?"

"Like who? Like Thalia's?" you bit, and he was visibly shaken by you now. You never met Thalia, and for obvious reasons, never spoke to her, but you knew who she was, who she had been. You heard about the tree from Luke himself, a few months after you arrived to camp. As the bigger person, Luke had always been careful when it came to that girl that he seemed to love so much. But after what he did? After he teared apart the one thing that made everyone feel safe, how could you trust him? "Just how sinister do you have to be, Luke? To step into camp like you own it and then ask me to join you, again? Well, surprise, captain, as soon as you step out of this place, we'll come for you. I'll make sure of that"

Luke bit the inside of his cheek. You were really getting into his nerves now. He turned around, hands behind his back, and the moonlight reflected off his dark hair. The sight made you gasp for air. How could such a beautiful person have such ugly intentions? He stepped back where you first saw him, where his figure was almost pitch black. You wanted to jump on him and slice his throat. How could he ever behave like this? Someone you looked up to so much, someone you admired, how could he hurt you like this?

Suddenly, he gasped, and frowned his brows. "Now, yn. When did I ask you to join me again?"

You took your sweet time to answer, confused. Still, your heartbeat was pounding in your ears. "What do you mean? You just did"

He smiled, "No, silly, no" he replied, as if you should already know what he's going for, "It wasn't a question, it was an order"

You laughed. "Excuse me?"

"You're coming with me" he demanded with a nod.

"Over my dead body" you chuckled in disbelief. You had already taken a few steps back in defense. Your senses were heightened, you felt the danger of the situation. And you were alone.

  Luke stood there, all sharp and cruel. You knew that look better than you'd like to admit. You figured he must've wanted something from you the moment you saw him, you just didn't realize he wasn't going to leave until you left with him, too. The silence of the forest was suddenly too loud and heavy on your shoulders, too full. He wasn't just a trespasser; he was a lure.

"Luke," you warned, your own voice a low growl now. The dagger flipped in your grip, trying to wipe out the cold sweat from your hand. "Don't."

"It's not like you're giving me a choice here, yn. Or them, either". He tilted his head. You looked for the dim lights of the cabins around you. "So, you chose. Either you make a scene, or I'd be more than pleased to lead you with me"

You could've thrown the knife right then. Should've. But your arm was leaden. He wasn't talking to you anymore. He was talking to the memory of the boy who taught you how to throw it. The one who told you to always aim for the throat, not the chest. That's how he always made sure any enemy, creature or not, would disappear. The one who held your own wrist, steady with a sword, as you learned to find a target in the dark. And he was here, now, to collect the debt of that lesson.

"I'd rather drop off dead than try to take down Olympus with you" you stated, as much to convince yourself as to defy him.

"Yeah, that's exactly how I remembered you" he hissed, "With your stupid lack of courage" He kept a calm posture, but you knew better than to assume he was calm. Luke Castellan never was. He was now boiling rage.

There was no way he was disarmed. You knew, deep down, that if he wasn't hiding something right now, then he must've had you surrounded by his soldiers, right where you couldn't see them. Behind you, around you, hoping you'd crumble and shake your knees to the ground. He was a predator, and you'd walked right into his trap.

You needed to distract him.

You swallowed. "You lost everything when you decided to turn your back on everyone who loved you," you spat, the words tasting like acid. "When you had no shame in betraying everyone"

His lip twitched; a wince of pain crossed his face. He paid more attention to his anger than his sorroundings. And you got him.

You did exactly what he told you to do two summers ago, when your enemy was standing right in front of you and you needed to escape; aim it, throw it. It has to be as precise as an arrow, but it has to cut. Like a sword.

The dagger flew from your hand, a silver streak in the moonlight. You didn't aim for the throat, because after all, you didn't want to kill him. You aimed for the side of his chest. And as much as he was distracted by you, he was no dummy. He twisted in his place, with a speed that even surprised you, but the blade had cut down his arm.

He grabbed his bicep in pain, groaning faintly. You were unarmed. Empty. The knowledge crashed over you, cold and absolute. Your heart hammered against your ribs and busted in your eardrums, a frantic bird in a cage of weak bones. Every instinct screamed at you, and you obeyed; you run.

You tried your best not to look back as your legs burned. You felt your heart fall down your stomach with fear, what had you done? You didn't even know where to run. The cabins were not safe, not with the kids. If Luke had to attack in front of everyone, he would. Besides, if everyone, including Chiron, saw what was happening and Luke succeeded in taking you, the chaos would just be worse. You wouldn't let this place fall apart more than it was already doing.

You heard the footsteps behind you, but they weren't Luke's. It was too many. Slower, but loud. When you reached a tree big enough to hide you, you stumbled as you lowered your pace. Hiding on your lower back, attached to your jeans, was the other pair of the dagger. You pulled it out, a small, silent gasp of relief leaving your lips as you held the weapon, this one being smaller but just as sharp. You were alive, and you were armed. It wouldn't save you, but if you played the right cards, it could give you some time.

You peaked carefully, the footsteps getting closer. Four, maybe five, figures stepped out of the darkness. They had the same look in their eyes as Luke. They couldn't see how much of monsters they had become.

You felt a surge of anger. You recognized Chris and took in the sight of him before he saw you. He had brought the others, the ones who followed him when Luke wasn't around. "Where the hell did she go?" you heard him say. Just as he was close enough, you pulled the same move; aim, throw, precise, cut. The dagger hit Chris' shoulder deeply, and he yelped in pain. He stumbled back as he recognized the engraved initials on the blade, groaning with disgust.

The element of surprise was gone, three skilled ex-campers were still in the hunt for you. You ran even faster now, unsure of where to go. You scanned your surroundings; you were past the cabins now. You could either enter your cabin from the back and just wait for them to leave, but that would take you more time and more of a risk, or you could try and hide inside the arena.  If you could reach it fast enough, you might have a chance. You could take a sword and at least try to defend yourself against bulky egg-eating boys. You knew the place, the hidden doors, you could do this. You knew Luke's land, after all.

"Split up!" one of them shouted when you disappeared into a dark shadow. "Find her!"

Your legs were starting to give out. The adrenaline was the only thing pushing you forward, and the fear of what Luke might do if he caught you. You sprinted towards the familiar stone archway, your lungs screaming for air. The ground was uneven here, and you nearly stumbled twice. Behind you, you could hear the crashing of branches and angry shouts. They were closing in.

Panic began to set in, a cold snake coiling in your gut. If someone saw you from a specific spot, they'd see all of you. All your little pathetic and scared figure looking for something to escape. You picked up your pace again, this place was a bad idea. Something inside you didn't feel right. But you walked right into a blind spot.

Just past the stone, where you wouldn't have looked back, the adrenaline overcharged you with confidence, someone grabbed you. His forearms pressed against your throat, cutting your airflow. You gasped, your hands flying up to claw at the iron grip. A wall of muscle and rage.

"Shh. Relax," his voice made a cold shiver run down your spine. "You don't have to make things so difficult, sweetheart"

"Go to hell" you grunt. You kicked back, right where you knew it'd hurt him, demigod or not. He let go of you faster than expected, grunting in pain, and you fell to the ground. Dirt and stones scratching against your palms painfully. You brushed something off your lower lip that stung, before you tried to step up and run again.

But Luke was faster, he tackled you to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of you. For a second, the stars above you blurred into a smear of white and silver. You still managed to get up, barely. His hand held your waist with immaculate force. You kicked and yelped, but his big hand covered your chin and your mouth as he stumbled your back onto a nearby tree. He held your hands above your head, his own pressing on your forearms, his body a suffocating weight even though he wasn't crushing you.

"You're making a fool of yourself," he panted. In the dim light, you could see the gash on his arm, dark and wet on his white jacket. You felt something on you, the hilt of his sword pressing against your hipbone. He hadn't even drawn it yet; you didn't even notice it was there in the first place.

"Get off me," you snarled, struggling against him. It was useless. He was stronger, heavier, and fueled by a fury you couldn't match even if you hated his guts. Your legs felt weak.

"I tried to be nice," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I told you what would happen if you didn't come quietly" He leaned closer, his face inches from yours. The familiar scent of him made your feel nostalgic. "You have no idea how easy it would be to snap that pretty little neck of yours" he whispered. But you knew he wouldn't, you knew he needed you. He wanted you.

He was enjoying this. You hated him for it. You hated how he was getting away with it all.

He looked down at your lips, the one bleeding with a cut. He lowered a hand, pressing his thumb on your wet mouth, you hissed. The tint of crimson dyed on his skin as he brought it up to his own lips, licking it clean. "You're a mess" he said, a small, cruel announcement that wanted to do nothing but hurt you.

And he succeeded. Your eyes stung with tears. How could he do this to you? After all these years? You refused to let them fall, you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turned your head away from him, trying to hide your face.

"What's wrong?" he mocked, "Don't like it when I touch you anymore?" He asked, and your face burned with embarrassment.

You looked back into his eyes, searching for any hint of the boy you once knew. But all you saw was a stranger, someone wearing the face of him when you used to care for each other. He was gone, replaced by this cruel, power-hungry tyrant. "Why are you doing this to me?" you ask, voice breaking.

The footsteps were getting closer again. You knew now, you had nowhere to go, but you needed him to answer your question.

"I don't want to hurt you, yn. I don't want to kill you", he let your hands fall back to your sides. After all, you were done for. His hands cupped your face in an attempt of cleaning your tears, the dirt in your face. "I just want you to open your eyes to the truth, like I did", he continued, you remained silent, lips quivering with sadness, "You are meant for something so much greater than this. You are meant for the kind of power no one here can give you". His thumbs brushed your cheeks, wiping away the dampness. "I can't bear the thought of leaving again and you staying here. Not again, yn"

It was a lot to process. All of this, because he couldn't move on without you? The footsteps stopped. From the corner of your eye, you saw four figures standing around you. Chris winced as he removed the dagger from his shoulder, letting the blade fall at your feet; his blood staining your shoe.

"She sure is hard to catch," an unknown boy said, you think you saw him at the Ares cabin last summer. He then proceeded to look at Luke, while his stare was never leaving yours. "Rope?" he asked.

Luke shook his head, "Nah," he said with a click of his tongue, "That won't be necessary. She understood her lesson, didn't you?" he asked you, waiting for an answer.

You didn't give him one.

"I'll take that as a yes. She's had enough," he announced, stepping back from you. He picked up your dagger, but saved it to himself. "I'll give this back to you when you deserve it" he patted the side of your hip with it, like a broken toy. You swallowed hard. You saw his eyes, you understood him without words.

Leave now, with him, and everyone and everything else, would be fine.

He waited your approval. You nodded.

Luke’s brother won’t stop staring at you.

You habitually strum your fingertips against the plastic cup his brother passed to you twenty minutes ago. The drink is warm and untouched, and you regret not asking for a beer instead.

Luke’s been stretched thin all night between pleasing you and pleasing his friends. You told him you wouldn’t mind if he spent time with them instead but guilt flushed his cheeks and made promises he couldn’t keep spill from his mouth.

You close your eyes and loose out a deep breath. The porch is slightly damp from the humid summer air, and you ignore how it makes your shorts stick to your skin. You’re sure if you were to turn around, you’d find his brother’s attention has not left you.

You shouldn’t have come tonight. You should’ve offered meeting up for lunch, something more within the boundaries your friendship with Luke was constrained by.

Somehow, he had found out you were back in town visiting family and texted you. Subtlety has never been one of Luke’s strengths and five texts later, you picked up on the hurt underlining the playful tone he was trying for.

Your easy acceptance of his offer to come to a party at his place—his brothers’ place to be technical—seemed to settle whatever stifling emotions lingered in him at your unintentional deception. His smile had been one of relief when you showed up, softening the rigidness of his jaw that had accumulated the longer you strayed from your projected estimated arrival time. He had pulled you into a hug, bending down so he could bury his face in your neck before letting you go to introduce you to some of his friends.

That had been an hour ago.

He tried to stick by your side as long as possible but eventually he was pulled away by a too excited friend. The guilt that wrecked his expression felt too severe for the situation at hand and an odd sense of relief filled you when he was out of sight.

You don’t know why you accepted the invite considering Luke is the only one you know here. Perhaps you’re weak to his pouting or perhaps staying at home the past week has made you stir-crazy. You have another six days before you’re expected back at work, and you’re determined to make the most of it.

Glancing over your shoulder, you wonder if biding your time until it’s socially acceptable to leave this party would be considered making the most of your trip home.

The kitchen has a few stragglers but for the most part, it’s been cleared out. There’s no sign of his brother and your tense shoulders relax a fraction. Surprisingly, you are the only one in the backyard, though, you suppose the sticky air might have something to do with that.

“You didn’t like the drink?”

Said drink sloshes over your fingers as you flinch. Blood rushes to your head and it takes a moment for you to find where the voice has come from.

He’s standing by the patio door, seltzer in hand. He takes careful steps towards you as if not to spook you.

“You didn’t like it?” he repeats, nodding towards the drink.

You look down at it, the cup now half what it once was. The space between your fingers grows tacky, and you try to rub the feeling away.

“Not really my taste,” you say apologetically.

You wipe your hands against your thighs and stand up. The light from the kitchen is dim, casting shadows on the hollows of his cheeks. He’s got the same tired look Luke tends to default to and the likeness is jarring for a moment.

“I’m Quinn,” he introduces, holding out his hand.

You give him your name, shaking his hand once before dropping it. His scrutiny is more disarming up close, and you take a step back.

“Lukey’s friend,” he says, feigning surprise. Your smile strains at the act. As if he hasn’t known exactly who you are since the moment Luke called out to you. “College, right? I think we were in the same year.”

That’s news to you.

“Huh, I would’ve never guessed that,” you say. You rack your brain for what Luke studied when he was playing. “Sports Management?”

He nods, eyeing you with vague approval. “Good memory.”

The compliment sounds like a stand-in for something he’d rather say, something less flattering if you are go to by the entertained smirk beginning to pull at the corners of his bitten mouth.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, slightly uncomfortable. “I’m going to go find Luke and say bye.”

Before you can step around him, Quinn steps into your space.

“It’s still early,” he says, pushing back his hair. “Stay a little longer.”

When you don’t look convinced, he adds, “I mean, Luke was so excited about you being here. Talked all of our ears off about it.”

He keeps getting closer, leading you to the far side of the patio. The kitchen is no longer in your line of vision.

“Did he now?” you ask faintly.

Trepidation works its way through the sea of your burgeoning confusion, tainting the waters until your confusion morphs into an oily unease that has you swallowing thickly the longer Quinn looks at you. He’s set his drink down, the empty clang of it making you flinch.

“He didn’t mention how pretty you are,” Quinn says thoughtfully. And then he laughs, shaking his head. He works his jaw, exasperation making it stiff. “Maybe he wanted to keep it a secret.”

His tone is light, borderline tender as if sharing an inside joke.

It freezes the breath in your lungs.

“I think I should go,” you say, voice tight.

Fear trickles into your bloodstream at a steady pace when he nods, barely moving to the side to let you pass. Your shoulder brushes against him and a sigh of relief begins to escape you until his arm hooks around you and he turns you back to him.

He kisses you.

Your mouth opens and you don’t find out whether your instinct is to bite down or yell at him for Quinn’s tongue slips in. The hand on the small of your back presses you forward firmly as he cups your jaw harshly to slot your mouths against each other better.

He isn’t deterred by your lack of response, kissing you deeper and wetter with a throaty groan. He tastes sweet, the artificial taste of black cherry cloying on your tongue.

His hand starts to wander, greedily touching everything he can. When the searing heat of his palm lays over the soft skin of your chest, your teeth snap down. The worried skin of his bottom lips splits under the pressure and the salty tang of his blood replaces the sickly sweet taste of seltzer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you gasp, spitting out the blood.

There’s a raw edge to your distress. When you wipe your hand across your mouth and look down, there’s an already drying streak of red on your skin.

Quinn licks his bleeding lip, using his thumb to wipe away the pink mix of spit and blood dripping down the edge of his mouth.

“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he shrugs.

You can’t even begin to assign meaning to what he’s said when Luke appears. His cheeks are red from the alcohol and his eyes hazy with something else, but he’s put his attention solely on you with concentrated effort. And more specifically on your mouth.

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head at the evidence smeared on both you and his brother.

“I told you,” Quinn says, amused. “She’d go for anyone s’long as they were a player.”

Luke bites his cheek. “You’re such a piece of shit, man. I saw you.”

Quinn doesn’t have the decency to look guilty. He holds his hands up, laughing. Luke, on the other hand, has the shame to look away when your eyes round out in betrayal at the realization he stood there while his brother kissed you.

“You can’t blame me, Lukey,” he hums. “I just wanted a taste.”

“Are you serious?” Luke snaps, voice growing more nasally.

He’s whiny, you realize with horror. The anger eating away the buzz in his blood has nothing to do with what Quinn’s done to you: it’s about what Quinn’s taken from him.

You shift your weight, peering into the darkness of their backyard. At some point, you’d eventually loop back to the front right?

Quinn doesn’t let you get far as soon as he notices how your body twists. He reaches out an arm and wraps it around your waist, dragging you to him. Once he’s secured you against him, he brings that same arm up so he can hold your jaw.

His fingers dig into your cheeks until the pressure against your teeth forces you to open your mouth to alleviate the soreness beginning to accumulate under his touch.

Luke swallows thickly, eyes darting to the ‘o’ of your lips. He follows the line of your throat as you gulp.

Quinn kisses the back of your ear before dropping his chin on your shoulder.

“Come on, Lukey. Don’t you want a taste too?”

discomfort bleeds from your limbs like thick sap, and the bulge of luke's thick, muscled calf brushes against your shin in his rousing movement. his nose twitches with the tickle of a curl across the bridge of it, his arm draped heavily over your collarbones. the sheets, which have barely been worn in from your step brother's new arrival from the strange camp your father's new wife keeps mentioning, shift noisily when you twist to look at the clock.

it's early - too early, and that much is shown by the fatigued parting of luke's lips beside your cheekbone - but time isn't a factor with the empty bed in the master bedroom and the family car gone from the garage downstairs. "luke, i've gotta shower," you muse, and the brunet scoffs indignantly, even in his sleepy state.

"i like the smell," his voice cracks as lethargy squeezes at his vocal cords, suckling your jaw with warm lips until your head drops back and luke can stir you closer. "means i got you all worked up, doesn't it?"

your thigh drapes across his pelvis, bare, flaccid dick stirring underneath the goose-pebbled flesh, and luke captures your heavy head in his palm when it drops to the side. "you're gross," you press between your teeth when he worries the other hand between your legs, swiping taught fingertips between your spread legs to find your weepy cunt.

"i can feel that you like it," he gruffs, flicking impassively against your arousal-slicked clit until you're chasing after the stimulation with stuttered gyrations of your hips. "so quit lyin' about it."

you hide the warmth of your cheeks in his pectoral, and his cock prods angrily at the inside of your knee.

"they'll be back soon." you continue your unabashed grinding down onto his fingertips, which now swirl teasingly against your eager hole.

"they will." he confirms, pressing a middle and ring inside, cheeks dimpling with a cheeky smile.

"i should shower. they can smell you on me." he buries them inside your cunt until the palm of his hand is pressed flush against your ass.

"i can smell me on you." he seethes, nose shoving into your cheek when he captures your swollen bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it fervently. "you won't get up."

he scissors his fingers, spreading them inside your warm, vice-like pussy until the pads brush against a vulnerable spot. your belly tenses and seizes, toes curling against the noisy sheets, and you moan into luke's open, wet mouth. "i'll do it right now."

luke's fingers tighten around your skull, twisting unconsciously around your hair until he can draw you away from his saliva-soaked lips. "do it," he spits, and you want to chase back for the taste of his tongue. "be a good girl and go take a shower. see what happens."

your eyes narrow, but your irises still soften when he manages to wriggle in a third finger, aware that your tight cunt will manage considering its previous abuse from the cock that's spilling, begging, onto his happy trail, now.

"and if i don't?" you whisper.

he leans in, his breath his hot against your face when his fingers screw tighter in your hair, and pain spirals out of your scalp. "i'm sure my cock tastes different when it hasn't already been between your legs, hm?"

you swallow thickly. "can i see?"