Chapter 25
DENVER
When we arrive back home, it is sometime in the wee hours of the morning, my head swimming, my eyes heavy from exhaustion. I overdid it, but I needed it.
As soon as we got in, Archie handed his dad the folder Thorne had given him. I know what’s in there, but I pretend not to notice. I don’t want to think about that first run-in with my stalker. I just want to snuggle in bed with Archie and let him hold me while I fall asleep.
‘Why are you up so late?’ I ask, my filter completely gone with the wine I consumed.
Jasper eyes me and then shrugs. ‘Work.’
‘Dad doesn’t sleep,’ Archie explains, leading me to the basement stairs.
‘Like vampire?’ I ask, and I see Jasper’s mouth twitch as Archie turns me around and guides me down to his room.
I let him undress me as I lean up against the coffin, his hands dragging over me far more than they need to.
But I don’t mind. I like the way he touches me.
He peels the clothes off my body, careful not to be too rough with all my scrapes and bruises.
My skin erupts with goose bumps as Archie’s lips trail across my shoulder, and his hand fists my bare cock.
I hadn’t been thinking about sex before, but now, I want to feel him get me off. I arch into him, loving the rough way he manhandles me because there’s so much tenderness behind it.
Leaning back, he sucks on my Adam’s apple as my fingers fumble with his clothes. They’re not as easy to get off because he won’t step away from me, not that I ask him to. I don’t want to be apart if we don’t have to be.
A moan works its way up my throat as I slowly work his clothes off until we’re both naked, and it’s then that he pulls both our cocks together and strokes them in tandem. His grip is firm and sure, a little dry, but it doesn’t really matter because it feels so fucking good.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as our lips meet, his tongue pushing into my mouth before he pulls himself away and meets my gaze for a long second. ‘Get in the coffin,’ he orders, reaching past me to push open the lid.
There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to disobey.
I crawl in with trembling limbs, not sure if he wants me face up or face down.
My fingers trace over the silk, and I feel him watching me as I get my bearings.
The thing is strong and sturdy beneath my weight, and I find I don’t actually hate the way the sides press in on me.
It’s probably got more bedding on the bottom than a normal coffin, and I shift from side to side as I get comfortable.
‘Wait here,’ Archie demands, then disappears into the bathroom, returning a moment later with the bottle of lube.
I groan, holding on to the base of my cock as I watch him approach. When he stops in front of the coffin, his cock bobbing in front of me, I can’t help but sit up and lean forward, licking at the tip. He gently fists my hair, pulling me onto his dick, though he’s careful not to choke me.
And god, the taste of him, the scent, it’s enough to drag me near the edge of my control.
He must sense how close I am because he gently tugs me off him and twirls his finger. ‘Turn over. Ass up.’
Once again, I don’t hesitate. My hands press into the soft silk lining the bottom, and my knees manage to spread just enough to give him access to my hole. I tip my head down as Archie adjusts me, until I’m exactly where he wants me.
Then his hands land on my ass, massaging it, spreading my cheeks, kneading them until I feel the press of his finger against my hole. He adds lube, swirling it around the rim, and my body opens for him when he pushes a finger inside.
He takes his time getting me ready, making me beg in whispers, my heaving breath hitting the fabric inside the coffin. It ruffles against my nose as my fingers curl into it, anchoring myself for when he pushes inside.
And then he does.
I groan at the stretch, at the way his cock slots perfectly inside of me.
And when he starts to move, I arch back, accepting each forward thrust. The coffin rocks beneath us, and I can only imagine the sound in the room.
I feel the creak of the wood as he slams into me, one hand on my hip to keep me steady and the other around my cock, and he strokes me in time with his thrusts.
It doesn’t take me long to come, my body already primed and eager. The feeling shoots up my spine, and my orgasm hits me in a rush, my dick spilling onto the silk beneath me. The squeeze of my ass around him pulls him close to the edge, and a few moments later, he shoots hot ropes deep inside me.
Sagging against me, his lips trail kisses across my shoulders, and I flop to my side as he pulls out, not wanting to leave this place. Even if I am lying in my own mess. He stares down at me, lying there in the coffin, his eyes dark, his cock still half-hard.
‘Beautiful,’ he signs, and I feel myself blush.
‘Same,’ I reply.
He disappears, then returns a second later with a wet washcloth, and he gently cleans me up before tossing the cloth into his basket.
‘Up,’ he signs with impatient fingers.
My body feels loose and floppy as I obey him, and he situates himself behind me, then turns us both on our side as we fit carefully behind the walls of the coffin. It takes a moment for us to get positioned, but eventually, I lay my body in the curve of his, and he wraps his arms around me tightly.
This should not be so comforting, but somehow, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. And it’s with that feeling that I find myself drifting slowly and easily into sleep.
When I wake up in the coffin, I feel deliciously sated, sore all over, but my head isn’t as heavy as it has been over the last few days. I know I still need to take care, having a concussion and all, but I can tell I’m healing.
It’s strange that being with someone like Archie—someone who has killed, someone who fucks me in graveyards and in caskets—could be my safe space. But I’ve also never been the most normal guy. Boring, sure. But normalcy—or what people told me was normal—always made my skin itch.
When I sit up, I’m unsurprised to find Archie gone from the room. His sleep patterns are a little unique, and there have been a few times when I’ve woken in the dead of night to find him pacing and stimming. He never notices me, and I don’t draw attention to myself.
I want him to feel safe to do whatever makes him feel happy and comfortable. But watching him is like watching an interpretive dance. His movements are fluid and soft, and his limbs are like liquid.
Crawling out of the coffin, I take a peek at myself in the mirror above Archie’s dresser, and hell, I look a little fucked out with my wild hair and the soft bite Archie left on my throat.
My bruises are starting to fade to a sickly green now, which isn’t great, but it means they’re on their way to disappearing completely, so that’s one small comfort.
I throw on one of Archie’s sweaters and make my way upstairs, following the smell of coffee to the kitchen, where Percy’s just getting up from the table.
He offers me a smile and points to a seat. ‘Coffee,’ he signs.
I tip my fingers from my chin in thanks before sitting, but before I can get comfortable, Jasper walks in. He eyes me for a long time—long enough to make me squirm—and then he sits down, his eyes glued to his phone.
The silence is awkward, which is probably rich coming from a Deaf man, but it’s not just the lack of noise. Jasper is very still, apart from his finger scrolling on his screen, but I can also tell he’s watching me from his periphery.
He would fit into the Deaf community seamlessly. He can probably read lips in a mirror.
Before I can get into my head too much, a latte with what looks like a high heel drizzled into the foam appears before me.
I grin up at Percy. ‘Cool.’
‘I’m working on my latte art for the café,’ he signs, then smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He looks tired and a little stressed, but I know better than to ask. My second nature is to search for all the information, for all the gossip, and that’s probably something I need to train myself not to do around here.
I can scratch my nosy itch with my Deaf friends and make sure I’m not too in the know when it comes to Archie’s life. I still don’t know why they’re here, and—it occurs to me in this moment—I don’t know if they’re staying.
Maybe they’ll be leaving the moment they’re done with the thing Percy’s supposed to be taking care of.
And I have no idea what that will mean for me and Archie. I can’t just pack up and move. I wouldn’t want to, even if he asked. My job and my drag shows are here. The family I carefully created is here.
I don’t know if I’m willing to give all that up for a man who I’m not sure won’t get bored with me after six months and walk away.
I don’t think he will, but the thought terrifies the shit out of me, and I’m not sure what to do with this feeling.
I know I need to talk to Archie, but I don’t even know where he is right now.
I let out a shaking sigh and sip my latte, though I can’t even enjoy how it tastes with this heaviness sitting in the pit of my stomach.
I feel a tap on my arm and turn my head to find Jasper looking at me. ‘Are you okay?’
Licking a bit of foam from the corner of my lips, I let out a tiny sigh and nod.
‘Are you lying?’
My cheeks heat. I hate how much he sees. ‘Sorry. Bad thoughts.’ I sip my drink in order to keep my hands busy, but it’s clear Jasper isn’t done with me.
‘May we speak about your stalker?’
I feel a groan rising in my throat, and I can only hope I’ve managed to swallow it down. I don’t want to think about him. I wanted to be fucking done with all of this, but it seems like he’s going to haunt every facet of my life from now until the day I die.
Or he does. Which I’m kind of hoping he goes first.
‘Sure,’ I finally say because it’s not like I’m going to turn down this very scary man’s request.
Jasper’s face softens. ‘If it’s too much—’
‘No, no. It’s fine. Should I get my CI’s?’