Chapter 23 The Boiler Level
The Boiler Level
Just keep running, he told himself. Don’t think about what’s chasing us.
But as they approached a sharp corner, his foot caught on something—a loose section of metal grating. He went down hard, sliding across the ground and ending up sprawled on his side just as they rounded the bend.
His line of sight cut directly around the corner.
Oh God.
The thing that had once been human was a nightmare of medical experimentation gone wrong.
Its limbs had been grotesquely elongated, joints replaced with crude mechanical hinges that clicked and ground with each movement.
The hospital gown clung in tatters, revealing skin that had been flayed and restitched, a patchwork of flesh held together with surgical staples that rusted and partially torn free.
Where its face should have been was a gaping cavity filled with twisted metal—some sort of breathing apparatus and voice boxes that had been surgically implanted and left to rot.
Every breath was a symphony of horror: a wet, grinding wheeze as air forced its way through decomposing tissue, the metallic click of broken mechanisms, and underneath it all, a sound like someone drowning in their own blood.
Wheeze-click-gurgle. Wheeze-click-gurgle.
It couldn’t walk—its legs had been removed, left only with raw stumps that leaked dark fluid.
Instead, it hauled itself forward with arms that ended in exposed bone where fingernails used to be.
Each desperate grab at the ground left chunks of rotting flesh and yellowed bone fragments, painting dark trails of decay behind it.
When it saw Levi, the thing’s head snapped up with mechanical precision. The wheezing, gasping sounds intensified, and it began moving faster, hauling itself forward with horrifying determination.
No. No no no.
“J-Jesus Christ,” Levi whispered, scrambling to his feet and sprinting in the opposite direction, panic overriding all rational thought. He didn’t care about navigation or strategy—he just needed to get away from that thing and its awful, broken breathing.
Like something out of one of Ethan’s worst horror games. The kind where the monster design was too fucked up, even for him.
Behind him, he heard Asher shout his name, but he couldn’t stop. His legs carried him through the corridors at a dead run, following whatever path opened in front of him.
The dragging sound was getting closer—not just scraping now, but the wet slap-tear-slap of raw flesh being dragged across concrete. And underneath it, that horrible breathing pattern repeating endlessly.
More sounds joined the chorus. Multiple creatures, their broken voices creating a symphony of mechanical death rattles. The wet slapping of exposed bone against stone. The ping of surgical instruments dragging behind them like grotesque wind chimes.
I could just stop, he thought desperately. Sit down and wait for it to kill me. Start over, avoid this whole nightmare.
The idea was so tempting that he began to slow down, his exhausted legs ready to give up. Death would be a relief compared to more running around in the dark.
But just as he was about to collapse, arms wrapped around him from behind, lifting him clean off his feet. Asher’s voice was in his ear, “This way.”
Asher carried him like he weighed nothing as he kicked open a door marked “Boiler Room - High Temperature” and ducked inside, slamming it shut behind them.
The space was small and cramped, filled with massive pipes and industrial equipment that radiated heat. Emergency lighting cast everything in hellish red, and the air was thick with the smell of hot metal and steam.
Asher set Levi down, but didn’t let go. Instead, he pressed him back against the wall, keeping his body between Levi and the door.
“Quiet,” Asher whispered, his hand coming up to cover Levi’s mouth when he started to speak. “Those things might hear you.”
Outside, the scraping and wet sounds got closer. The ting of metal dragging across concrete. A sound like someone trying to scream through a throat full of blood. The creatures had followed their trail, hunting through the corridors.
Levi’s breathing was harsh and panicked against Asher’s palm, his heart hammering so hard he was sure it would give them away. But gradually, he became aware of other things—Asher’s body heat, the solid weight of him, the way his thumb stroked across Levi’s cheek.
“Shh.” The protective urgency was still there, but underneath it was something hungrier. “Just breathe.”
Levi felt it then—the unmistakable pressure of Asher’s arousal against his hip. The chase, the danger, the intimate proximity—it had all worked together to strip away Asher’s careful control.
He’s turned on by this.
Asher’s free hand moved to Levi’s waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s so hard for me to hold back,” he whispered. “Do you know that? How difficult it is to follow your rules?”
The hand at Levi’s waist slipped lower, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his jeans. Levi jerked against the wall, but there was nowhere to go.
“Your rules are unfair,” Asher continued, his mouth so close to Levi’s ear that his breath sent shivers down his spine. “You said I can’t touch you. But you touched me earlier. You put your hands on me.”
Oh God. Levi tried to protest around the hand covering his mouth, but the sound came out as a whimper that only seemed to encourage Asher.
“I saw tears in your eyes when you found Elliot,” Asher whispered, his hand sliding lower to cup Levi through his jeans. “You were so sad, so broken. I want to make you feel better.”
The touch was firm, finding the growing hardness there and stroking with devastating skill. Levi’s legs shook, his body arching involuntarily into the contact.
“Th-that’s...” Levi tried to speak around Asher’s palm, but the words came out broken.
“I can feel how much you want this.”
Stop. Please stop.
The rhythm he set was torturous—slow, deliberate strokes designed to build sensation without giving release. His thumb found the sensitive head through the denim, circling with just enough pressure to make Levi see stars.
Asher pressed closer, grinding his own obvious arousal against Levi’s hip with barely restrained need. The friction, the heat, the way Asher’s breath came in harsh pants against his ear—it was overwhelming.
“You feel so good,” Asher breathed, nipping at his ear. “Even through your clothes, you feel perfect. I can’t wait to touch you properly.”
Levi clenched his fists at his sides, unable to think of anything beyond the rising, stifling heat and the pressure building inside him. It shouldn’t feel good…I don’t want this to feel good. He tried to speak again, to tell Asher to back off, but his words remained muffled by Asher’s palm.
“Quiet, beautiful. Can’t let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”
The combination of fear and arousal was too much. Levi’s hips began moving of their own accord, grinding into Asher’s touch with desperate need. Heat was pooling low in his abdomen, building toward something inevitable.
“I know you want this,” Asher whispered, his voice rough with his own need. “Your body knows, even if your mind won’t admit it. You need me, Levi.”
His thumb pressed against the tip of Levi’s erection through the denim, and Levi nearly came undone right there. His breathing became ragged, desperate little sounds escaping around Asher’s palm.
“That’s it,” Asher encouraged, his movements becoming more focused, more insistent. “It feels good, right? You want me.”
Levi’s vision blurred at the edges, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.
But Asher’s touch was relentless, faster, firmer, and Levi felt like he was going to lose his mind.
He ground harder at Asher’s hand, tears in his eyes as he shook his head back and forth. He didn’t want to let go.
But it feels so good…
“Cum for me,” Asher commanded softly, his lips brushing against Levi’s ear. “I want to see you cum for me.”
The words, combined with a particularly devastating stroke, shattered Levi’s resistance.
His orgasm ripped through him, his body rigid as he spilled into his jeans with a stifled cry against Asher’s palm.
Wave after wave of sensation crashed over him, leaving him gasping and shaking in the aftermath.
Asher held him through it, his hands gentle and soothing rather than demanding. When it was over, he removed his palm from Levi’s mouth.
Levi couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. The reality of what had just happened was too huge, too overwhelming to process.
This is exactly what he wanted. What he’s been building toward. And I just... let him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The question echoed in Levi’s mind as the boiler room’s red lighting painted everything the color of sin.