Chapter 14
Stiches
The motel was a rundown, seedy place on the edge of town, the kind of spot where no one asked questions and no one stayed long. The neon sign flickered weakly, casting a sickly green glow over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Caleb pulled the car into a spot near the end of the row, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble. Satisfied that they weren’t being followed, he killed the engine and turned to Luca.
Luca was slumped in the passenger seat, his face pale and drawn, his injured arm cradled awkwardly against his chest. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage Caleb had tied around it earlier, and the sight made Caleb’s stomach twist. He didn’t wait for Luca to protest; he was out of the car and opening the passenger door before Luca could even try to move.
“Come on,” Caleb said, his voice firm but gentle as he slid an arm around Luca’s back to help him out of the car. Luca didn’t argue this time, which worried Caleb more than anything. He leaned heavily on Caleb as they made their way to the motel office, his breathing shallow and uneven.
The clerk behind the desk barely looked up as Caleb paid for the room, handing over a crumpled wad of cash in exchange for a key attached to a plastic tag with the number 12 scrawled on it. Caleb didn’t bother with small talk, he just took the key and helped Luca back outside, guiding him toward their room at the far end of the building.
The room was exactly what Caleb had expected; small, dimly lit, and reeking of stale cigarette smoke. The walls were a dingy beige, stained with years of neglect, and the carpet was threadbare in places, its pattern long since faded. A single, sagging bed took up most of the space, its floral-print comforter looking like it hadn’t been washed in years. A rickety table and two mismatched chairs sat in the corner, and a flickering lamp cast a weak yellow light over the room.
Caleb guided Luca to the bed, easing him down onto the edge of the mattress. Luca winced as he moved, his jaw tightening against the pain, but he didn’t say a word. Caleb hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering on Luca’s shoulder, before he turned and hurried back out to the car to grab the first aid kit he’d packed before they left Diego’s house.
When he returned, Luca was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his injured arm lying uselessly at his side as he struggled to unbutton his shirt with his good hand. His movements were clumsy, his fingers fumbling with the buttons, and Caleb felt a pang of guilt as he crossed the room and knelt in front of him.
“Let me,” Caleb said, his voice soft as he reached for the buttons. Luca didn’t protest, his hand falling away as Caleb took over. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of fabric as Caleb worked his way down the front of Luca’s shirt. His fingers brushed against Luca’s inky chest as he undid the last button, and he felt a shiver run through him at the contact.
He made the mistake of looking up then, his eyes meeting Luca’s. There was something in his gaze; something dark and intense, something that made Caleb’s breath catch in his throat. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words and tension. Caleb was suddenly very aware of how close they were, of the heat of Luca’s skin beneath his fingers, of the way Luca’s eyes seemed to see straight through him.
He cleared his throat, breaking the moment, and looked away, his hands trembling slightly as he pushed the shirt off Luca’s shoulders. Luca didn’t say anything, but Caleb could feel his eyes on him, watching him with that same unnerving intensity as Caleb reached for the first aid kit.
The wound was worse than Caleb had hoped, the bullet having torn through the flesh of Luca’s upper arm. But as Caleb cleaned the blood away, he felt a surge of relief; the bullet had gone straight through, leaving a clean exit wound. It would heal, as long as they kept it clean and stitched it up properly.
Caleb worked quickly, his movements efficient but gentle as he disinfected the wound and began stitching it up. Luca didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound, but Caleb could feel his eyes on him, watching him with a quiet intensity that made his skin prickle. He kept his own gaze focused on the task at hand, refusing to look up, refusing to let himself get lost in those eyes again.
When he was done, he wrapped the wound in clean gauze and began packing up the first aid kit, his hands moving automatically as he tried to ignore the weight of Luca’s gaze. He stood, intending to take the kit to the bathroom to wash his hands, but Luca’s hand on his wrist stopped him.
The touch was gentle, barely there, but it froze Caleb in place. He looked down, his eyes landing on Luca’s hand, his thumb pressed against the pulse point on Caleb’s wrist. For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.
“Thank you,” Luca said softly, his voice low and rough. His thumb moved slightly, brushing against Caleb’s skin, and Caleb wondered if Luca could feel how erratic his pulse was, how much that simple touch affected him.
“No need,” Caleb said, his voice tight. He pulled his wrist away, Luca’s hand falling back to the bed. “I wouldn’t even need to patch you up if you hadn’t…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, and turned away, grabbing the first aid kit and heading for the bathroom. "Get some rest."
He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. His heart was pounding, his skin still tingling where Luca had touched him, and he clenched his fists, trying to push down the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let himself feel this way, not again. Not when it would only end in heartbreak.
But as he stood there, his hands braced against the sink, he couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping into his mind; the thoughts of Luca’s eyes, his touch, the way he’d looked at Caleb like he was the only thing that mattered.
And for a moment, just a moment, Caleb let himself imagine what it would be like to give in. To kiss Luca like he’d wanted to for so long. To let himself feel everything he’d been trying so hard to bury.
But he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.
He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, and took a deep breath. When he stepped back out into the room, Luca was lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even.
Caleb stood there for a moment, watching him, before he turned off the light and settled into the chair by the window, his gun resting on his lap. He wouldn’t sleep tonight.
???
Luca woke with a start, his body stiff and aching, the dull throb in his arm a constant reminder of the bullet he’d taken for Caleb. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the neon sign outside the window. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dimness, and turned his head to see Caleb slumped in the chair by the window, his head tilted to the side, his breathing slow and even.
He was asleep, his face relaxed, the lines of tension and worry smoothed away. Luca watched him for a moment, struck by how young he looked, how peaceful. It was a rare sight, Caleb without his guard up, without the weight of the world pressing down on him.
Luca’s chest tightened, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him; affection, frustration, longing. He pushed them aside, forcing himself to sit up. His body felt heavy, his skin sticky with dried sweat and blood, and the thought of staying in this state any longer was unbearable. He needed to wash it all away, to feel clean again.
He stood slowly, careful not to jostle his injured arm, and made his way to the bathroom. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him. The bathroom was small and dingy, the tiles cracked and the mirror fogged with age, but at least there was hot water. Luca turned the faucet, the pipes groaning as the water heated up, and stripped off the rest of his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap, and then unwrapped his wound.
He stepped into the shower, the water hitting him in a scalding cascade that made him hiss at first before the heat began to seep into his muscles, easing the tension. He leaned against the tiled wall, his head bowed as the water poured over him, washing away the grime and blood. His body ached, every bruise and cut a reminder of the chaos they’d barely survived, but it was his mind that felt the heaviest.
He thought about the previous night, about the moment he’d seen the gun aimed at Caleb, about the way he’d moved without thinking, without hesitation. He’d jumped in front of that bullet, not because it was the smart thing to do, not because he’d weighed the risks and decided it was worth it, but because the thought of Caleb being hurt, of Caleb dying, was unbearable.
It had been instinctive, impulsive, and stupid. And yet, even now, even as he stood there with the wound in his arm throbbing, he knew he’d do it again. He didn’t want to think about what that meant, about what it said about how he felt, but the truth was there, lurking in the back of his mind, refusing to be ignored.
His thoughts drifted to what had happened after; to Caleb dragging him out of there, to the way Caleb had grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. Luca had been furious at the time, embarrassed and irritated, but now, as he stood under the hot water, the memory sent a shiver down his spine. There had been something about the way Caleb had handled him, something possessive and protective, that stirred something deep inside him.
He felt it now, that heat pooling in his lower abdomen, his cock stirring as the memory played over in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tightening as he tried to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. His body was already responding, his cock filling as the images of Caleb, his hands, his strength, his determination, flooded his mind.
“Fuck,” Luca muttered under his breath, his hand moving almost of its own accord, sliding down his stomach and wrapping around his cock. He hissed at the contact, his body tensing as he gave himself a slow stroke, his thumb brushing over the sensitive head. He leaned back against the wall, his breath coming faster as he began to move his hand, his strokes firm and deliberate.
The water poured over him, the sound of it muffling the soft, ragged breaths that escaped his lips as he lost himself in the sensation. His mind was a whirlwind of images; Caleb’s hands on him, Caleb’s voice, low and commanding, Caleb’s body pressed against his, his hard cock nestled between Luca's asscheeks. He bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the groan that threatened to escape, but it was no use. The pleasure was building, hot and insistent, and he couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to stop it.
His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher, and he felt his body tightening, the tension coiling in his gut. He thought about Caleb on his knees, about the way he’d looked at him earlier, about the way his touch had sent shivers through him, and it was enough to push him over the edge. His orgasm hit him hard, his body shuddering as he came, his release mixing with the water and swirling down the drain.
For a moment, he just stood there, his breathing ragged, his body trembling with the aftershocks. Then he opened his eyes, the reality of what he’d just done crashing down on him. He felt a pang of guilt, of shame, but he pushed it aside, refusing to let himself dwell on it. He couldn’t afford to, not now.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying himself off quickly. His arm throbbed as he moved, a sharp reminder of the danger they were still in, and he forced himself to focus on that instead of the thoughts still swirling in his mind as he rewrapped it.
When he stepped back into the room, Caleb was still asleep in the chair, his head tilted to the side, his face peaceful. Luca watched him for a moment, his chest tight with emotions he didn’t want to name, before he climbed back into bed and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.