Chapter 12
Closer
Diego led them down a narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking under their feet, and stopped at a door at the far end. He pushed it open, revealing a small, cramped room that looked like it hadn’t been used in years.
The air was musty, and the single window was covered with a thin, dusty curtain that barely let in any light. A narrow bed with a faded quilt took up most of the space, and a rickety wooden chair sat in the corner, its paint chipped and peeling. The walls were bare except for a single, crooked picture frame holding a faded photograph of a landscape that Luca couldn’t quite place.
“It’s not much,” Diego said, his voice apologetic as he stepped aside to let them in. “But it’s the best I can offer. You’ll be safe here, at least for the night.”
Luca nodded, forcing a smile despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “It’s more than enough. Thank you, Diego.”
Diego gave a small nod, his expression softening. “Get some rest boys. We’ll figure out the rest in the morning.” With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Luca and Caleb alone in the dim, cramped room.
Luca turned to Caleb, who was standing just inside the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression distant. He looked like he was still processing everything; the ambush, the DEA agents, the revelation about Castillo’s human trafficking operation. Luca could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched tight, and he understood.
Caleb had spent half his life believing in the Agency, in the idea that he was doing something good, something noble. He’d left everything behind, his old life, his family, Luca, to work for them, only to find out now that they were no better than the criminals he’d been trying to bring down. And now he was branded a traitor, hunted by the very people he’d once called colleagues.
It was a lot to swallow. And as much as Luca still resented Caleb for walking away all those years ago, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. Caleb had always been so sure of himself, so confident in his choices. But now, for the first time, Luca saw the cracks in that confidence, the doubt and uncertainty creeping in.
Luca stared down at the bed, the only one in the room, and something uneasy coiled low in his stomach. The idea of sharing such a small space with Caleb, of being that close after everything that had passed between them, felt like stepping into a past he wasn’t ready to face. The walls he’d built between them had already taken enough hits tonight. He wasn’t sure they could take another.
He cleared his throat softly, forcing himself to move past the thought. “I’m going to take a shower,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he’d intended.
Caleb barely acknowledged him, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on some distant point on the floor. Whatever storm was raging in his mind had swallowed him whole. Luca hesitated, just for a second, then turned and slipped out of the room, grateful for the temporary reprieve.
The bathroom was small, worn with time and use. The cracked tiles bore the weight of years, and a steady drip from the faucet echoed in the silence like a ticking clock. Luca peeled off his clothes, wincing as fabric stuck to half-healed wounds, pulling at bruised skin. He stepped into the shower, and the water came down in a scalding torrent, shocking his tense muscles before they slowly began to loosen. He exhaled sharply and pressed his palms against the cool tiles, letting the water cascade over him, washing away the grime and blood of the last few days.
His mind refused to still. It looped through the chaos; gunfire in the night, the cold steel of cuffs biting into his wrists, the safe house, Diego’s revelations about the Agency. The memories weren’t distant echoes; they were razor-sharp, cutting through him like fresh wounds.
And Caleb…
The look on his face when Diego had told them the truth. That flicker of doubt, betrayal, something raw, before he had forced himself back into that hardened mask. Luca had seen it. Felt it.
He reached for the soap, scrubbing at his skin with more force than necessary, welcoming the sting as it traced over his cuts. The pain was a tether, something real, something grounding. He rinsed off quickly, pushing down the weight in his chest, and stepped out of the shower, steam curling around him as he grabbed a towel.
His clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, stained and ruined. He frowned at them, then shoved them into the washing machine. Diego had left a small pile of fresh clothes on the counter; simple, clean. Luca pulled on a pair of briefs and a soft t-shirt, the fabric whispering against his skin, a quiet comfort after the hell je had been through.
He padded back to the room, his bare feet soft against the wooden floor, and nudged the door open. The sight that met him sent a jolt through his chest, stopping him mid-step.
Caleb stood by the bed, his shirt discarded, the dim light casting shadows over the sculpted planes of his back. His hands worked at his belt, the slow slide of leather through metal deliberate and unhurried. Muscles shifted beneath the faint scatter of scars that marked his dark skin; each one a story, a wound, a battle survived.
Luca’s breath hitched; his mouth suddenly dry. He knew he should look away, force his gaze elsewhere, but he couldn’t. His eyes traced the hard lines of Caleb’s body, the sharp cut of his shoulder blades, the way his waist tapered just enough to make Luca’s thoughts turn dangerous.
Heat curled in his stomach, unwanted and undeniable. The urge to move closer, to touch, to rediscover what his hands had once known, clawed its way to the surface. He swallowed hard, despising the way his pulse quickened, the way old memories stirred like embers reigniting.
Then Caleb turned.
His hands stilled at his fly, fingers frozen over the zipper, and his eyes met Luca’s, steady, searching. Time stretched between them, thick and humming, before Luca tore his gaze away, his face burning.
Damn it. He was a grown man, not some fumbling, love-struck idiot.
“I’ll take the floor,” he said gruffly, his voice rougher than he intended.
Caleb didn’t move. His hands remained where they were, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to do that.”
Luca exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re in worse shape than me, Smith. You need the bed.”
A beat of hesitation, then Caleb said, “Then we both take it.”
Luca’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Caleb’s in startled disbelief.
Caleb shrugged, his voice measured, casual. “It’s big enough for both of us. And we’re adults. It’s only weird if we make it weird.”
Luca clenched his jaw, his mind racing for an excuse, an argument, anything, but his own exhaustion betrayed him. His body ached in ways he couldn’t ignore, and the thought of curling up on the hard floor, stiff and cold, was hardly appealing. Still, the idea of lying next to Caleb, of sharing space and warmth, made something in his chest coil too tight.
And yet, before he could stop himself, he nodded.
He moved to the bed, slipping beneath the sheets with a rigid unease, keeping himself as close to the edge as gravity would allow. He shut his eyes, willing his body to relax, willing his mind to silence itself.
Then he heard it; the quiet rasp of a zipper lowering, the rustle of fabric sliding down, the dull thud of clothing hitting the floor.
The sounds were deafening in the stillness, each one sending a shiver down his spine, each one a cruel reminder of proximity, of history, of things long buried but never quite dead.
Luca focused on his breathing, counting each inhale, grounding himself in the feel of the pillow beneath his head, the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.
This was fine. It was nothing.
Just two men, sharing a bed.
Nothing more.
His fist squeezed the sheets tightly.
Caleb left the room then, presumably to take a shower, and the moment the door clicked shut behind him, Luca exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him. He lay motionless, staring at the ceiling, his body thrumming with a restless energy he couldn’t shake. It was ridiculous, infuriating even, that Caleb still had this effect on him after all these years. That a single look, a single moment, could unravel him so completely.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take slow, measured breaths. This was exhaustion. That’s all it was. The weight of the past few days pressing down on him, making him weak, making him stupid. He buried his face into the pillow, inhaling fabric and detergent, willing himself to sleep before his thoughts could spiral any further.
Just as the heavy fog of sleep began to creep in, the door creaked open.
Luca’s body went rigid, his drowsiness evaporating in an instant. Silence stretched between them, thick and charged, before the mattress dipped under Caleb’s weight.
They weren’t touching. Not even close. But Luca could feel him.
The warmth of him. The quiet cadence of his breath. The faint, clean scent of soap and something unmistakably Caleb curling into the space between them.
It was maddening.
A slow, aching pull curled low in his stomach, an urge he knew better than to entertain. He wanted to move closer, to reach across the small, fragile space between them and let his fingers press against familiar skin, relearn the lines of a body he once knew as well as his own.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
They lay there in the quiet, suspended in the dark, both feigning sleep but betraying themselves with every restless shift, every careful breath. The tension between them was thick, pressing against their bodies like an invisible weight. It pooled in the inches of space that separated them, in the warmth Luca could feel radiating from Caleb’s skin.
Finally, Luca couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.
The small movements beside him stilled. For a moment, silence stretched between them like a held breath. Then, softly, Caleb exhaled, “No.”
Luca hesitated, his fingers curling into the sheets. “Wanna talk about it?”
Caleb let out a low, humorless snort. “What’s there to say? I spent half my life believing I was on the right side of this, and now I don’t even know if there was a right side to begin with.” His laugh was sharp, brittle, breaking apart at the edges. It cut through Luca more than it should have. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Luca’s chest ached, the impulse to reach for Caleb almost unbearable. He wanted to tell him that he wasn’t alone, that none of this changed who he was, not really. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he forced his voice to steady. “It’s not on you, Caleb. This? All of it? It’s on them.”
If Caleb believed him, he didn’t say it. Maybe he just didn’t have the energy to argue. The silence thickened again, heavier now, carrying words neither of them were willing to speak.
Luca shut his eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. And when it did, Caleb followed him there too.
???
Luca woke up slowly, his body warm and heavy, more rested than he’d been in what felt like years. There was a comforting warmth next to him, and without thinking, he reached for it, pulling it closer. He breathed in deeply, the scent familiar and intoxicating, and a small smile tugged at his lips as he nuzzled into the softness.
His body responded before his mind could catch up, pressing into the inviting heat, hips rolling in lazy pursuit of friction. A soft groan rumbled in his throat, pleasure threading through his veins like honey.
Then, pressure. Firm fingers tightened around his waist, an anchor.
Luca’s eyes snapped open, and his breath stilled in his chest.Wide, startled blue eyes stared back at him, just inches away.
It took him half a second to assess the situation: he was pressed flush against Caleb, his leg thrown over his body, his knee resting against Caleb’s cock, which was just as hard as his own. Caleb’s arm was locked around his back, holding him so close Luca could feel the frantic rise and fall of his breath, could see the faint flush spreading across his cheeks.
Luca’s heart was pounding, his body screaming at him to move, to pull away, but he couldn’t. He was frozen, suspended in time, his gaze flicking down to Caleb’s mouth. Those soft, plush lips were so close, so inviting, and Luca burned with the need to taste them, to bite them, to claim them. He shivered, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
“Luca…” Caleb breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper, soft and broken, like a prayer. And Luca was lost. He knew he was. He leaned in, just an inch, then two, his lips hovering so close to Caleb’s that he could almost feel them...
And then there was a knock on the door.
The sound shattered the moment like glass, and the two of them sprang apart as if they’d been burned. Luca scrambled to sit up, his face burning, just as the door opened and Diego’s head poked in.
“Sorry to wake you,” Diego said, his tone cheerful and oblivious as he stepped into the room. “Just wanted to bring you your clothes. They’re clean and dry.” He set the bundle of clothes on the small dresser in the corner and added, “Also, breakfast is ready.”
Luca managed to nod, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Thanks,” he croaked, his voice rough.Diego smiled back and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Luca’s hands were shaking as he glanced to the side, but Caleb was already up, yanking his clothes on with stiff, jerky movements. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at Luca; just grabbed his boots and walked out, leaving behind nothing but silence and the ghost of his touch.
For a long moment, Luca simply sat there, staring at the empty space Caleb had just occupied. Then, with a groan, he flopped back onto the mattress, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it over his face, letting out a muffled scream.
His body still ached with lingering heat, still throbbed with need, but he ignored it, burying himself in the only thing louder than his desire; his own mortification.
What the hell had just happened?
What had almost happened?
And why, despite everything, did he still feel like he was burning?