Page 64 of The Puck Chase

Archer practically sprints to the shower, and once again we both rinse off. Then the only aftercare I provide is my tongue in his ass, massaging his taint and hole until he is spraying his cum against the shower wall, and I am spilling into my hand and down the drain.

Thirty-minutes later we are both dressed in my clothes and in the kitchen, Archer lingering by the island, as I rustle us up a late dinner. It’s almost midnight, and the rest of the house is so quiet that I’m not sure if the others are even here. Not that I’d care if they were, but I’m still not exactly sure where Archer stands on all of this. He looks comfortable enough, especially in my black hoodie and sweats, as he asks question after question about what I’m doing, until he knows he is pissing me off.

“For fuck sake, have you never seen anyone cook before?” I finally snap, and the insufferable prick only smirks wider than usual.

“Nope,” he pops the p, stealing one of the tomatoes I have chopped and tosses it into his mouth as I stir the pasta. “My mom used to throw me out, something about me being annoying apparently,” he replies sweetly, and I roll my eyes.

“You don’t say,” I drawl sarcastically, addicted to the grin across his mouth as he watches me.

“So grumpy when you cook,” he observes, and I wonder if he is remembering our talk from earlier, about why I enjoy being in the kitchen. A thought that’s only heightened when he pulls out his phone and taps away, untilTina Turner’s The Beststarts playing from the speaker, and he is stealing the wooden spoon from my hand.

Then I watch in shock, as he jumps on top of the counter, his bare feet touching the marble, before he brings the spoon to his mouth and starts belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gray?” I ask in complete horror, especially when he starts gyrating, staring at meknowingly, and when I continue to watch him in confusion, he pauses.

“Schitt’s Creek,” he tells me, as if I am supposed to know what those two words mean, and when I shake my head, his mouth drops open, jumping back down to the floor and pausing the music. “You don’t know David?”

“David?” I ask, completely and utterly lost. “Does he go to Fairfield? And what's aSchitt’s Creek?” I add, pulling a laugh from him, and I mean a deep and full belly laugh, that has him bending over and leaning on his knees, as if he can’t quite take it.

“Oh my god, are you even human?” he chokes out, rising back up and wiping tears from his cheeks. “Six copies ofThe Great Gatsby, and still you know nothing,” he shakes his head and I frown, snatching the spoon back from him.

“Only five copies now,” I tell him with a glare, adding the tomatoes to the pan and giving them a stir. “AndGatsbyis a classic.”

Archer rolls his eyes, stealing the spoon from me once again and slamming it back to the counter. “You know what else is a classic?Schitt’s Creek,” he teases, wiggling his brows, before pressing play on his phone again, and jumping back on that damned counter, belting out the lyrics once more.

“You look ridiculous,” I tell him truthfully, yet still I can’t stop the smile from crossing my face, and when he sees it, he looks as if he has won something.

“Maybe, but you still want to fuck me, so what does that say about you?” he beams, and I shrug.

“That we are both fucked in the head,” I reply, and he laughs, continuing to perform the whole song without shame.

It’s only when he’s done, and he jumps back to the floor, claiming me with a kiss while still laughing at himself, that I realize he made me laugh too. And that’s why he did it, not because he loves the song, or wanted to go crazy and dance,but just because he knew it would make me smile. Something I haven’t done in the kitchen since my mom was still alive, and when I look at him and he winks, an unfamiliar warmth spreads across my chest.

I finish making us dinner, and as we eat he fills the silence with story after story about his family, and by the time he helps me clean up and we collapse into bed, I am feeling lighter than I have in years. So much so, that as I drift off to sleep with my arms wrapped around him, I feel something akin to hope.

Maybe things can be better. Maybe I can find light in the dark, but only if that light is shining out of Archer Gray.

I’m in a deep and comfortable slumber, when I am awoken with a scream. One so pained and full of fear, that I feel it in every part of my body and soul, like a knife to my chest. It startles me so completely, that it takes me a moment to remember where I am. Daemon’s room is still dark, and for a second there is silence, so much so that I almost think I imagined the sound, but then it rings around the room again. It slices through me like a blade, and my gaze snaps to my side in confusion. Daemon still appears to be sleeping, yet his body shifts and rolls, screams and pleas being ripped from his subconscious, and before I can even understand what is going on, or do something, his bedroom door slams open, ricocheting off the wall.

Josh storms in, light now pouring in from the hallway, and for a fraction of a second he pauses as our stares collide. There is a mixture of shock and confusion in his eyes, as he looks between us, before Daemon lets out another pained sound, and it chills me to the bone. Josh is once again moving, storming to Daemon’s side of the bed, not looking the slightest bit concerned, and all I can do is watch him, completely frozen.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask desperately, but Peters ignores me, climbing onto the bed, and gripping Daemon’s arms tightly in his.

“Daemon,” he yells, shaking him roughly. “Come on, brother, I got you, you’re safe, I got you,” he adds, still shaking his body, and when Daemon finally startles awake, Josh tightens his hold on him even more, as if knowing he is going to lash out. He struggles against him, as Daemon fights him, keeping him pinned to the bed, as Daemon’s frightened eyes flare wide. “It’s okay, you’re safe, it was just a dream, I got you, it was just a dream,” Josh repeats over and over, like a mantra meant to soothe him, and to my surprise, it works.

Daemon nods up at him, sucking in heavy breaths, as his eyes remain locked on Josh’s, who waits until Daemon’s body relaxes beneath his hands, before he slowly lifts them away. He backs up to give him some space, yet still they remain focused on one another, their connection as clear as day, and it’s obvious this song and dance between them is a regular occurrence. A thought that pains me so deeply, as Daemon continues to pant, tracking Josh with his eyes until his breathing evens out a little, and Josh finally looks relieved.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, as if speaking to a small child, and again Daemon nods, closing his eyes a little and exhaling a deep breath.

When he opens them again, they shift around his room, finally landing on me in surprise, as if only now rememberingI am here, and then they flick from me to Josh, who is now watching us silently.

When neither of us speak, Josh says, “I’ll get you some water.” Then he leaves the room and I hear his footsteps on the stairs, but my focus remains solely on Daemon.

He pushes himself up into a seated position against his headboard, no longer meeting my eye, and if I’m not mistaken, I’d say he looks embarrassed. Neither of us speak, mostly because I’m not sure what to say, and when Josh returns with a bottle of water in hand, he is looking at me as if this is all my fault.

“Are you good?” he asks Daemon, still glaring at me, as he hands him the bottle of water, and Daemon nods, ripping off the cap and taking a deep swill.

“Yeah, sorry,” Daemon finally mumbles, his voice hoarse from the screaming, and that pain in my chest intensifies once more.

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