80svhstapes - Tumblr blog

80svhstapes · 7 days ago

Note

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

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80svhstapes · 7 days ago

Text

MDNI. virgin!luke castellan x fem!reader

in which the mighty luke castellan is in fact, a virgin, and he finally gets to lose it, to you

warnings: virgin!luke, experienced fem!reader, protected p in v, oral (both f and m), very slight chocking, teasing (lots), cursing, hair pulling, pet names, finger sucking, let me know if i missed any <3

₊˚⊹♡

"You drive me insane" he breathes out.

"I know"

Charming, skilled, handsome, intelligent, carries himself in a mysterious and magnetic nature. Camp's best swordsman and head counselor of cabin eleven. Luke was a hot deal. It's hard for you to think of him as other than fully experienced. The hours he spent training, getting better, and making a name for himself has paid off. All of his hard work had to awake in him at least a little bit of that carnal pleasure that most demigods around camp knew oh so well. You just wanted a taste of the forbidden fruit.

But you didn't know how forbidden it actually was. He was what every boy wanted to become, —wether it was because of jealousy or pure admiration—, and what every girl wanted. You've lost count of how many times you saw girls throwing themselves at him, walking past conversation about him, how they wanted to get some extra help at sword training. The thing was; you never actually heard anything from his side.

Judging by the way he carried himself with such confidence and coolness, you naturally thought his experience would be much larger and better than yours.

So when you find yourself straddling him, surprise washes over you when you realize how tender he was. How his body rolled smoothly, gentle, yet there was something pulling him back, almost as if he didn't want to touch you, like he was scared to do it. His hands didn't dare to creep under your clothes. Maybe that's the way he likes to treat girls, you thought, or he wasn't the type of guy that would go all rough and desperate and quick, like others did.

But you feel it, there's something in him that whispers in your ear how there's a reason for his unsureness, for his fear and his nervous heart. He doesn't do anything but kiss your lips, and even though you love it, you've spent a hot minute doing just that. So you ask him, does he want to take things further? Does he not like it? Is he uncomfortable? Did you make him feel that way?

He let out a poor strained laugh, scratching the side of his head before returning to the soft grip on your thighs. "It's not that" he says lowly, visibly nervous, "I just-, I never had sex before"

He was the living image of confidence and mystery; seeing that image crumble in front of you was worthy of a photo, if it weren't for the fact that this was a delicate moment, and he was opening up to you. He left you speechless for a moment, yet you couldn't bring yourself up to crack a joke, not now.

"That's okay. We can just kiss if you want" you reassure him, your hands travelling up to his cheeks to carress softly, guiding him into a safe and caring space where he doesn't have to be embarrassed, or scared.

"No. No, I don't want you to hold back" he was quick to say, hands instinctively going up to hold your waist now. He straightened his back, his nose almost bumping with yours. "I want to and I'm ready, I really am, it's just, I never got the chance to do it, you know? It always seemed like a hassle and a distraction"

You nod in understandment. He has a point, and you get it. "Then what about right now?"

"Well, right now, you're worth it"

You remain speechless again. He looked up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes that glistened with excitement and anticipation, it made you want to carress his cheeks and take him into the most intimate place of your soul. His words scratched a part of your brain you didn't even know existed, a place where the need to feel him all over your body, in the most intimate places, was stronger than ever. He didn't seem to be bothered by your silence. If anything, he used it as an opportunity to lean in and catch your lips in his once again.

The kisses slowly grew more needy, more intense and demanding, yet his hands still seemed glued to your sides, unable to move. It would've been fine if that's what he wanted to do, but he kept on squeezing and twitching his fingers; you knew he wanted more. You pushed away, "Luke, it won't kill you to touch me" you laugh.

"Oh" is all he says, his gaze falling down to his own hands, and then back up to you. "I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize" you press, "I just want you to do what you feel"

His head tilts in a confused expression, he looks down nervously. He's silent for a second, his thumbs moving in slow, circular motions on the fabric of your shirt. "I just don't know where to touch" he revealed. His voice was slightly coated with a thin layer of embarrassment, a rare occurrence.

The idea of guiding him through it turned you on, let's be honest. However, a guy like him being this clueless had you feeling the blush creeping onto your face. You weren't sure if he was playing or not, but it didn't matter now. "Well, you can start..." you coo, taking both of his hands, lowering them until his palms are pressed on your naked thighs. His hands feel warm on you, small calluses bumping roughly against your soft skin, "here" you complete.

His hands squeeze softly, the most familiar touch out of the ones he already tried still took his breath away. He swallowed hard when your hands remained on top of his, his eyes following your every movement as you guided him upwards. "Or..." you press, the anticipation doing nothing but make Luke more impacient. His fingers reach the edges of your shorts, but you pull at his big hands, taking them higher.

You take his palms to rest on your ass, over the denim fabric. "Here" you press again. And Luke slowly starts to work on his own. His hands move on their own accord, massaging the plush of your bottom and pushing you closer, grinding your clothed cores together.

He presses his forehead against yours when a particular roll of your hips has him seeing starts, eyes closing shut.

You press a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the headboard of the bed, a sharp tud that makes him slightly flustered. You take his hands again, leading them up, underneath your shirt. His breath catches on his throat. The fabric tangles in his fingers as he reveals your torso, only more skin for him to explore, to play with. When he reaches your ribs, he drags his nails down your back softly, your sides. The feeling makes you shudder visibly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "That's good" you encourage him.

His soft eyes adopted a sight full of lust, but he remained looking up at you with that same unsure and sweet stare, along with a pair of parted lips.

You push him further, "Keep going" you whisper.

He does as he's told, his hands travel back up. Your neck glistens with a thin layer of sweat, the hot day at camp doing nothing but the both of you sticky. And he thinks about it, he really does. He never saw it, but he heard it; from other people. How girls tend to like it, a firm grip, a small act of dominance. He wanted to try it too. A single hand doesn't stop its path, still going up, passing your sternum, your cleaveage... your head falls back just a little when he reaching the bottom of your neck. His hand doesn't squeeze, he doesn't know how hard it has to be, but it rests there with soft pressure, just enough for you to feel his fingertips digging into the soft skin. He drags his hand down again, it only happened for a second, but it was enough to send sparks to your lower belly.

"Gods, Luke" you breathe out, "that was-, you're a fast learner" you blurt out.

"Was it good?" he asks, still unsure if what he just did was okay.

"Amazing" you reply. The soft movements of your hips over him stop. He was still missing a spot you were sure he wanted to explore. You take one hand while you let the other rest on his thigh. You take his palm, and press it against one of your breast, over your shirt. You knew he could feel it perfectly. "You missed here" you instruct.

Luke's eyes slightly widened. His face went a hundred expressions per minute; swallowing hard, lips parting, breathing in, breathing out. He was a blown out man in his most animalistic form. He looks up at you again with puppy eyes, his brows frowning in a desperate expression that makes you want to do nothing but play with him a lot more, maybe ruin him in the process.

He presses his hand over your clothed chest. You bite down on your bottom lip when he does, a soft noise coming out of him when he feels the hardening peak under the shirt. He was so slow and careful with it, it only made it feel better than previous times. "Are you not-" he intends to ask when he feels it.

"Wearing a bra?" you inquire, resuming the movements of your hips, "No" you shake your head.

"Fuck" he whines out, his voice coated in pure want. It's the first time you see him like this, completely undone, with a slight coat of sweat on his forehead. A sight that nobody has seen before, and that fact alone has a certain pride swelling inside you. You had him like this.

And when he finally grows some confidence, he doesn't wait for any guidance from you, both of his hands slip up, underneath your camp's t-shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing experimentally. It's enough to make a small gasp escape from you, a sound that makes his cock throb and twitch under the confinement of his cargo pants. He was quick to catch a nipple between his thumb and his index finger, pinching, playing.

"Slow, slow" you said, "they're very sensitive" you explain. He nods eagerly again, a 'sorry' almost falling from his lips, but you noticed his expression, how worried he looked, "It's okay, you're learning" you encourage. It was enough to get him to ease up a little, and just play and pinch with the pad of his fingers, a few soft tugs here and there.

"They're perfect" he whispered. You were sure it was a comment more to himself than to you, yet you couldn't help but crack a tiny smile. He looked at you in awe. It was hard not to feel self conscious under his stare, and that's saying something considering you were practically grinding on him.

You leaned down, catching his lips in a heated kiss. Your tongue was quick to poke at his lips, seeking entrance, and when his mouth parted, you took no time in tasting the deepest part of him. He responded the best he could, his hands leaving your breasts to find purchase on your waist, his hips thrusting up desperately, wanting more.

His hands were eager, exploring everywhere, but they didn't dare to go any lower. He was still hesitant. "Can we-," he pulls away, not fully separating his lips from yours before he began to speak, "Can we switch?" he mumbles out.

You loved that he was so gentle, so unsure. This was Luke's first time, yet it was your first time taking someone's v-card too. You wanted to please him all over, to make him see and feel how drunk in passion sex could get him, so obsessed and overwhelmed that he wouldn't even dare to try with another girl that isn't you. You wanted him to crave you.

"Sure, baby" you agree.

The pet name makes him get a little lightheaded, a soft pink tinting his cheeks. You take his lips again before rolling off of him, your back falling against the bed, letting him hover over you. His eyes scan every inch of your body, his gaze was filled with so much admiration that it could be described as innocent. But when you notice the outline of his hard cock on his pants, you're quick to realize that wasn't the case at all.

He was eager, and nervous, and he couldn't even hide it.

His hand timidly reaches for the edge of your shirt. "I want this off. Please?" he begs.

"So polite" you tease, sitting up to give him space to help you out of it. When he throws the piece of fabric somewhere else in the cabin, he stops again, just staring. His gaze was filled with nothing but adoration and fascination. "Don't get all shy now" you snap him out of his trance. With a playful raise of your eyebrows, you say; "You asked for it"

"Oh, trust me" he's quick to say, the same fucked up expression printed on his face, his hands traveling up, tracing the curves of your sides, the swell of your breasts, "I'm glad I did" he finishes.

You let out a little laugh, his boldness coming to surface once again, and it felt nice. The way his hands didn't know where to start was cute. It made you want to guide him and teach him, but also see how much he could figure out by himself. You remained worldless when he started to lower down on your body, eyes fixated on your chest. He didn't look into your eyes, but he stopped midway. The only encouragment sign you have him was your hand placement on his curls, carressing softly and tangling the dark hair in between your fingers. Slowly, you apply the tiniest pressure, forcing him to resume his previous path.

The soft kisses he placed over the swell of your chest were enough to make a sigh escape from your lips. His stubble tickled your skin, but it didn't take away from the sensation that spread all over your body. Your hands travelled from his hair, down his nape, and rested on his shoulder blades. He lets out a shaky breath before changing places, his lips leaving wet, sloppy kisses along your sternum, the middle of your cleavage. He didn't know where to start, yet his tongue was eager and ready.

It was so, so endearing to see him so invested in learning.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt his wet lips close around a nipple. He looked up at you, a pair of big, innocent eyes that could make the devil himself crumble. You knew his gaze was asking for your approval, and that was enough to make your cunt throb.

"You can suck a little" you instructed, and he obeyed. The first time he did it, it was hesitant, shy. But it felt so, so good. You couldn't help the soft moan that left your mouth, and Luke couldn't help the throbbing ache that pooled at his lower belly, the way his cock twitched inside his pants. So, he kept going, a little bit harder, a little bit more confident.

He switched from one nipple to the other, his tongue making soft circles and swirls before doing just what you asked him to do. You wanted to praise him, to make him feel good about his quickly earned skills, but he hadn't earned it quite yet.

When his hands reach for the buttons of your shorts, his lips kissing down the valley of your breasts, you can't help but ask.

"What are you doing?" you question, unsure if he was really aware of his movements.

"I want to eat you out. Can I?" he asks.

You weren't sure if it was the bluntness of his question, the desperation in his voice, or the way his eyes pleaded, that made your clit throb. Yet you wouldn't give in completely to his request, not before asking something for yourself too. You take a fistful of his camp t-shirt, pulling him closer until his nose bumped with yours. "Only if you take this off" you command. Oh and doesn't he love to obey you.

He sits up on his heels, and without hesitation, he takes his shirt off.

There's a pause. You look up at him, eyes travelling all over his torso, his arms. You weren't expecting to be so impressed by the view, but gods, didn't you hear anything else but praises about Luke's physique; tanned and toned. A layer of sweat glistened all over his pectorals, his abdomen, and the thought of being the reason for his sweating didn't go unnoticed. It was a hot day, and the cabin had nothing but closed windows, but his panting, his red, sweaty face, and his body covered in perspiration, that's all him. It's all you. It's all for you.

It's your turn to admire him. Your eyes are focused on him and him only. That's why, when his hands start working on pulling down your shorts, you can't do anything but let him. He doesn't break eye contact until he's sure he can fully see what surprise you've got for him under those tight shorts, his jaw hanging open since it's the only thing that he can't get rid of; being so ridiculously mesmerized.

He looked so, so fuckable. The sight of your red panties, slightly stained of your arousal, is enough to make a pathetic sigh escape from him and his pupils dilate in pleasure.

You play a little with your own body, swaying your legs on porpuse and popping your hips out only to make him hypnotized, and be mean enough to ask him to close his mouth or flies would ly on his tongue. "Now tell me, big guy" you begin, "do you want them on, or off?" you ask. Your fingers trace the elastic of your panties. It's enough to have Luke swallowing hard and licking his lips in anticipation.

"Off, please" he pleads. It's funny, because it seems like the more you teased him, the more eager and needy he got, but you couldn't complain. You could never.

You nod and comply. "Off?" you repeat in a mean tone, even though you heard him very clearly. Your thumbs hook on the elastic band and lower them down barely, and you were quick to notice the way his breath hitched on his throat. "Do it yourself then" you charge. You don't have to be so cruel.

But you're enjoying it a bit too much.

Without hesitating, he dives in between your legs, his hands pulling the garment down. Once he throws it on the floor, his eyes go directly back to your glistening core, his lips parting in an amazed expression. You separate your ankles just a little more, and the movement makes him snap out of his trance, his hands instinctively grabbing onto your thighs, spreading you even further. And his breath alone, the hot puff of air over your cunt, is enough to make you clench around nothing.

"Luke" you call out, snapping him out of his trance in the most sinful, cute way. "Do you know what to do?"

He hesitates. His eyes dart up and down from your center and up to your face, his fingers twitching against the skin of your thighs. "I-..." he starts, looking away in embarrassment. You knew the answer. You already knew. "I read about it once, and-, I've heard conversations" he admits, ashamed. His ears burn bright red. He couldn't even look you in the eyes anymore. It was too cute.

"It's okay" you reassure him, carressing the top of his head with soft motions. You weren't sure where did he read and heard, and your mind couldn't really wrap around the thought of Luke sitting down with a book or a porno reading about giving oral to women but-, you were curious to see where that knowledge could lead him, and how good his first time would be. "Start with a lick, and go from there" you suggest.

And that's exactly what he did.

You expected him to go for it slowly, to take his time, to maybe even back out and ask for help. But when he dived right in and his tongue made contact with your sensitive, heated, swollen folds, the noise that was about to come out of you was nothing but embarrassing before you pressed your lips together to prevent it. Your fingers tugged on his curls, and it only seemed to encourage him, his tongue exploring all the different places and tastes your cunt had to offer.

"Shit-, fuck. Wait, Luke" you curse. He did as he was told. His head shot up, his gaze locked on you, his chin glistening with spit and your arousal. And the sight alone could make your head fall back against the bed and your legs wrap around his neck.

But you had to talk him through it. He was eager and hungry, and it was obvious, yet he didn't know how to use it to his advantage. "Go slower. Try giving it licks, or circles" you said.

And he did. His tongue went from the bottom, passing over your hole, and ended on the apex of your clit. A soft flick, followed by the smallest circles, and your head did fall back against the pillow, your mouth agape and your hand still tangled in his hair. He repeated the motion, a bit slower, a bit more experimental. And when you looked down at him, he was doing it again; giving you those fucking puppy eyes, wanting for you to praise him, to tell him he was doing great.

And he was doing it again; getting better, and better, and better.

"There. Right there, fuck" you moaned. His tongue went up and down and back and forth, his jaw starting to ache a little, yet he couldn't help but keep going. The taste was foreign, not sweet or bitter, but addictive. "You can suck, too" you voiced, "Wrap your lips softly, and suck"

Your cunt throbbed at the feeling, a satisfied sigh leaving your mouth when it felt too warm and wet and perfect in your core. "Good boy" you praised.

The words send shivers down his spine. He hummed, and the vibrations traveled all the way to your clit. "What is it, baby?" you sighed out. "You like being called a good boy?"

His lips didn't stop their sucking and licking, his hands didn't stop the firm grip they had on your thighs. And yet, the whine he let out was the loudest. You knew what that meant. And oh, didn't his face look so beautiful between your legs, his hair messy and his eyes looking up at you with pure want and desperation. His mouth and his nose glistened with spit and your juices, and his hands remained gripping and massaging the flesh of your inner thighs. He was a sight to behold.

Him softly humping the mattress was a sight to behold.

"Don't hump the mattress, baby" you said. Your voice was coated in the sweetest tone, like a mother telling her son not to do something bad. It only seemed to make him more desperate. "I'll give you something better"

He pulled back. A string of saliva connected his bottom lip to your center. His eyes were dark and blown out, his mouth red and puffy and swollen. His chest raised and lowered with every pant, just like yours. The lower half of his face glistened with a mix of everything, something you'd never seen in a man before, yet the sight did nothing but please you. Your thumb presses against the mess on his face, a purposely poor attempt to clean it. "Sit" you command again.

His body was moving faster than his brain, and that was enough to make the most wicked ideas appear inside your mind. He sits at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning all the curves and shapes of your body, the sweat making the hair stick on the sides of your face. His cock twitched, begging for attention and release when you kneeled in front of him.

He swallowed hard when you started to tug at the waistband of his pants.

"Wait-" he said, grabbing your hands. "I'm-, I'm scared I'll cum too soon"

Oh, and wasn't that adorable. He was nervous and embarrassed, and a little ashamed, because that's how virgins tend to be. He looked away. His cheeks burned bright red, and his ears were hot, and you didn't miss the way he shifted on the bed, his hips raising off of the mattress, trying not to be obvious. It was endearing. How eager and desperate he was for a release, a pleasure he hadn't experienced yet.

"You'll do fine" you soothed, "But if you do, it's okay. We can stop there or we can wait" you begin to slowly tug down the fabric, forcing him to lift his hips. "I know how to be patient. Not like others" you purred.

The sound of the zipper was loud in the small cabin. You could see the tent in his boxers, the way his hard cock strained against the thin fabric. "Can I take it off?" you ask cautiously.

He nods, "Mhm" he strangles out. His hands rest on the sides of his body, on the mattress, and he's almost tempted to touch you, but his brain can't think of anything other than how good it's gonna feel to finally get his dick wet.

And he was oh so beautiful. The sight was sinful. The way his cock stood up, leaking a small amount precum, the head swollen, leaky, and a darker shade of pink. A few veins were visible along the length, the shaft throbbing and twitching. He was not insanely big, nor was he small; the size was just perfect. Perfect for your mouth, and perfect for later. Tick, heavy, pretty. He hissed when you wrapped your hand around the base. "Relax, Luke" you tell, "You're too tense"

"Sorry, I-," he stops, a gasp interrupting him. He throws his head back, his hands clenching around the bedsheets when you start to slowly move your hand up and down. His chest rose and fell quickly, his breath hitching on his throat. And gods, didn't he feel good, and wasn't his reaction the prettiest thing you'd ever seen? You wanted to watch him fall apart.

"I'm going slow" you reassured, and fuck, he knew you were, but hearing your voice being so soft and caring, trying to get him to calm his hotness down, it made some of his muscles relax. "Feel it. Enjoy it, Luke"

"Oh, gods" he cursed, "Don't stop, please"

You leaned forward, your tongue licking a strip along his head, gathering the small droplets of precum as they dissapeared in your tongue. He lets a loud groan out. "Luke" you call out again. He looks down at you, chest heaving up and down with sweat, some curls sticking to his forehead. Your hand resumes its previous movements as you grab his hand, guiding it to the back of your head. A sinful grin shows on your face, along with a squint of your eyes when you ask mockingly; "Why are you shaved?"

It's his turn to squint. The blush that adorns his cheeks, his nose, his ears, is the cutest thing you've ever seen, and you can't help but let a laugh escape from your throat. He's quick to reply. "Sometimes I do it"

"Oh" is all you say, nodding, a teasing smile printed on your face. "Why?" you inquire.

"Because-," he stops, swallowing hard. You're still jerking him off, and the movement is distracting. "It looks nice, and... I had a date recently" he explains, not quite proud of the reasoning behind it.

"Well" you begin, placing a chaste kiss on the tip, a kiss so innocent that it makes Luke's toes curl and his head fall back again, "it does look nice" you admit, a tiny blush creeping on your cheeks, "was she pretty?"

He looks back at you, his jaw hung open. The question is surprising. Your hand continues moving, your thumb occasionally pressing over his slit, rubbing, circling. "No. She wasn't you" he confesses.

You're sure it's just his mind clouded in lust and desire, yet you can't help but let them sink in. Another small smile paints your face before you resume your task, lowering your head to his cock again. This time, wrapping your lips around the tip, his head resting on your tongue. He was carressing your head before, but when you sucked softly, the pads of his fingers digged into your scalp, along with a deep inhale of sharp air.

Your head lowered, inch by inch, the warm and wet cavern of your mouth engulfing him. He was sure this was the closest he's ever been to a paradise. Your lips looked so fucking beautiful around him, the way you bobbed your head, and how far down you were able to take him.

"Oh, fuck" he groaned. His other hand helped the one placed on your head, wrapping your hair around his fingers as he lifted it up in a soft ponytail. He was gentle. Too gentle. And you wanted him to feel good. So, so fucking good. You tried to go down further, his cock hitting the back of your throat. The sound that left his mouth was sinful. "Sh-shit" he stuttered. You could feel the vibrations of his moans, how they echoed inside of his chest.

It was a little too fucking disgusting. A wash of boldness takes over Luke when he pushes your head down further, forcing you to take just a little more, the very tip of your nose brushing against his soft skin. You were a little sloppy, and he was a little too sensitive, but when you pulled off completely, a string of spit connecting the two of you, he didn't feel the urge to cum right there and then.

You took a moment to catch your breath, Luke's hands still holding onto your head, yet his thumbs carressed your temples soothingly. He was being careful. "Can we-, I-" he stuttered, "can I have sex now?" he asked. He was so desperate, his body begging to finally, finally have some relief. The fact that it was his first time did nothing but fuel his desire to feel you around him, and to feel himself inside you.

Though the question was a little funny. "Impacient, are we?" you teased. The sight of him, panting and blushing and sweating was enough to make you forget about teasing and just let him take what he deserved. "We can do that" you nod. You push yourself up to your knees, getting just a little closer. "How do you want me?" you inquired.

Luke's mouth opened and closed multiple times. You could see the wheels turning on his head, yet his body remained still, the only movement was the one from his chest as he breathed in and out, the way his hands clenched and unclenched around the sheets. "I don't know" was his final answer.

You openly laugh at him, "Come on, Luke" you press, "I'm sure that little head of yours has thought of something"

He's hesitant. His eyes avoid yours, scratching the side of his neck. "Um," he swallows, "missionary?" he says, a hint of insecurity in his tone.

"Oh" is all you say. He didn't expect such a reaction from you, and you could see the nervousness and the worry taking over his brain. "So you know the names?" you questioned. You could swear he was holding his breath. He didn't respond. You leaned in, your lips pressing a small peck against his cheek. He chased your lips, but you pulled back quick as you crawled onto the bed again.

The sheets were tangled against one another, and they felt warm against your hands and knees. Luke stared in awe, like he usually did. "Do you have protection?" you asked, laying back on the bed, waiting for him.

"Yes" he quickly answered. He opened the drawer of his nightstand and grabbed a small silver pack. His hands were shaking slightly when he ripped it open, taking the condom out. He turned his back to you while putting it on. You waited patiently; something about him not making a sound or not asking for help told you that maybe this wasn't his first time putting on a condom.

A question for later.

He turned back around. His face was slightly more serious, the only hint that something was wrong being the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed hard. It was cute. "Are you nervous?" you ask. He places himself over you, a hand pressed against the mattress to not crush you with his weight.

"A bit" he admits, his lips pressing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth. You reach for his lips, your tongue poking at his lower lip again. He opens his mouth, the two of you tangling into a heated, messy kiss, like you did for the entire afternoon.

"It's okay" you assure when you pull away, carressing his jaw with your fingers. "We can stop whenever you want"

But you knew he didn't want to stop. He was not going to.

You wrap a leg around his waist. Your hand travelled down between the two of you, holding his cock. It twitched in your grasp, his hips bucking involuntarily as his breath hit your chest, his own head looking down to where your bodies almost met. The head nudged against your clit, and the both of you moaned at the feeling. Slowly, you led him down, until the tip was pressed against your entrance.

"You can move if you want" you clarify.

He pushed forward, a choked moan leaving his throat. His cock disappeared in between your folds, stretching and filling and making his entire world turn into a white light. The sensation was unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the pleasure that pooled in his lower stomach was indescribable. His hips pushed further until his pelvis met yours. The stretch was delicious to you, his cock throbbed inside you. The tension was overwhelming for him.

"Shit" he whined, "Fuck"

"You're okay?" you asked, carressing the back of his head. He nodded against your chest, his breath warm and uneven. "You're doing great, baby" you praised, "Move when you're ready"

"It feels-," he starts, stopping midway to let a shaky exhale out. He was so hard. And you were so warm and wet. "It feels fucking amazing" he said.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. A sweet, small kiss was planted on his lips. He started to move his hips, rolling them smoothly against you, and his breath was warm and ticklish against your face. "That's it" you encouraged, "That's a good boy"

His hips thrust harder and deeper when the praise reached his ears. You could feel the tip of his cock reaching deep, touching a place that had your mind spinning. You held to his curls and one of his shoulders, some ridiculous moans here and there, but who cares? Luke was making you feel too good to try and hide your sounds.

"Fuck, right there" you moaned. He was going agonizingly slow, but deliciously deep. He pulled away until only his head remained inside, only to rock his hips again, pushing deeply. A whine escaped your lips. His forehead pressed against yours. Luke's jaw fell open, his brows frowned in the most sinful, cute way, his lips swollen and parted, letting out the most obscene sounds.

He pressed his lips against yours. Everything was too much for him, except for your kisses. Feeling his lips against yours was the only thing he could do to prevent himself from thinking that this was all a dream. Because he couldn't think, let alone talk. It was too much. You felt so, so amazing and good and tight. And the fact that he was making you feel this way, the fact that it was his cock and his mouth and his hands and him, it made him feel proud. Proud, and a little too arrogant, if he had to admit.

He was surprisingly skilled with his hips, every roll of them hitting that delicious spot inside you, his cock stretching you open in the best way. You couldn't think about anything else than his length hitting so deeply. But when his lips left yours and began kissing your neck, a particular snap of his hips hit a place inside you that made your legs twitch and shake, and the moan that left your lips was loud enough to make you feel embarrassed.

"I-, I love it when you moan" he pants against your ear.

"Luke-" you warned. Your nails dug into the flesh of his back. "Oh, fuck" you cursed.

"Can I-," he stops, his hips grinding deeply against you, "can I fuck you harder?" he asks. He didn't sound hesitant, or nervous. And that was enough to make the knot on your stomach pull even tighter.

"Yes, baby. Yes." you reply, pulling him down for a messy kiss. He did as he was told. His pace quickened. He fucked you deeply, every snap of his hips was powerful, and every roll of his pelvis was deep.Your cunt fluttered and squeezed around his cock. The room filled with obscene, wet noises. It was a little too sinful, and a little too disgusting again, to anyone that might hear except for the two of you, and that thought was enough to make a blush creep up your face. He was doing it good. He was doing too fucking good.

"Luke" you sighed again, his name falling from your lips in a way he never heard.

He kept his rhythm, his pace quickening as his body grew warmer and warmer. A thin layer of sweat coated both of your bodies, the sound of skin against skin and heavy breaths filled the cabin, the sun rays filtering through the window and giving him a pretty glow. The sight was gorgeous.

"Am I-, shit" he swore, like he's been doing ever since he started "Am I doing good now?" he asked, a little more uncertain now. He was panting, his hips not stopping.

"Amazing" you breathed out, "You're always good" you complimented. "Give me your hand"

And he did as he was told. Again. His right hand traveled to your own. You held his palm as you guided his fingers to your lips. You took two digits into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them, coating them in a thick layer of spit. He kept on moving, but his hips became sloppy, his movements more shaky. He couldn't stop staring.

"You got me a little on the edge here" he strangles out.

The thickness of his fingers pushed at your tongue, scratching the back of your throat before you gagged barely, but the sensation was enough to have your cunt clenching around his cock. "Do that again" he begged, his fingers pushing a little deeper, forcing another gag from you. He didn't have any idea of where did he get the confidence to make you do these things, and he was ashamed to admit that it was so, so fucking hot.

He removed his fingers from your mouth when you held it again, guiding it down your body. You sigh when his wet fingers brush your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves aching for any type of touch. When his fingers started rubbing the same circle pattern he did earlier with his tongue, you could feel your entire body tingling and shaking, and a knot pulling so tight inside your belly that you couldn't do anything but whimper and whine and moan and call out his name.

You hold onto a pillow behind you, the other hand still tangled in his curls. He looked desperate and eager and hungry and needy and so fucking perfect, and that's exactly how you felt. Your orgasm was close, and Luke could sense it. The way your walls clamped and squeezed around him, the way you were trembling under him, your thighs and calves shaking and twitching. He creeps a hand to the back of your knee, pulling it up to his waist. You gasped, head fell back against the pillow, the angle was making you feel him much deeper.

"Luke, make me come" you moaned. He couldn't hold it anymore either. He wanted to wait for you, but the way your walls spasmed around him made him unable to think straight, the only thought in his mind being the fact that he was finally getting the chance to get rid of the virginity.

"Fuck, I'm close" he panted, his hips moving quickly and erratically. He was hitting all the right spots, and touching.

"Keep doing that" you commanded, a hand on top of his, the other one squeezing the pillow behind you.

Everything he did was making you feel dizzy. Your body tensed and twitched, your toes curled. Your legs trembled and your hips thrusted upwards, chasing the orgasm. You felt your walls spasming and fluttering and squeezing, and Luke felt the change in the way you were clamping down on his cock.

Luke followed right behind, his orgasm approaching with a tense flexion of his abs and shaky breaths. He curses as he does, too, his head hanging low as his hips continue moving. He couldn't think of anything other than the way his cock twitched and throbbed inside your warm and slick cunt, his cum filling the condom. He wished he hadn't used one.

You came down from your high, Luke's body laying limp on top of yours. He was panting and sweating, and his hips were still grinding, his cock not even softening just yet. He kissed your jaw. You carressed his curls, feeling the pressure of his chest over yours as you both heavy breathed in unison.

"Did I do well?" he asks softly, his head lifting up just a little, his eyes locking with yours. His expression was so isinnocent and cute, giving you those tempting puppy eyes. You almost forgot his dick is still buried deep inside you.

"You did much better than I expected" you replied. He barely smiled, his arms wrapping around your torso, hugging you tightly. He didn't want to move. It was a nice sensation; your warm, naked body against his.

"Thank you" he said after a moment of silence. You didn't respond. His face was buried in the crook of your neck. You would've stayed in that moment for much longer, only to take him again. You would've stayed in that cabin rotting his brain for much longer, if it wasn't for the loud banging on the door that startled you both.

"Are you done fucking in there!? I need to get in!"

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80svhstapes · 7 days ago

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They could never make me hate you, Luke Castellan.

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80svhstapes · 7 days ago

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had the urge to draw the castellan house which was a shockingly difficult process so im actually never drawing a house again after this

the vines were inspired by a house i saw on tiktok bc i feel like overgrown vines may forgot abt is fitting for her character tbh

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80svhstapes · 7 days ago

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Oh how I’ve missed you, Mr. Afton

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80svhstapes · 10 days ago

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we all know the photo

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80svhstapes · 10 days ago

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Naive observation about PJO character flaws

I have noticed something very interesting in Percabeth and Luke discussions when it comes to flaws.

The common rhetic employed by Annabeth defenders against anti Percabeth arguments is that Annabeth had a traumatic childhood so she doesn't know any better and we can't blame her for the way she is.

But then I bet those same people will say Luke has no excuse for his actions and was evil trash who deserved to die...although his childhood was arguably worse than Annabeth's. Thalia seems to be the only one who came close to being his equal. Despite all the injustices the demigods face, Luke's anger and bitterness are waved away by PJO fandom it seems.

Pretty sure I saw someone say Percy's life was terrible but he didn't fall down Luke's path. Percy had trauma but he turned out ok, not like nasty Luke. Just another way to emphasize how much "stronger" Percy is compared to Luke. The same way Snaters will use Neville and Harry to downplay Snape's trauma.

So I guess based on that logic Annabeth is weak for letting her trauma influence her poor treatment of others?? Why does Annabeth's trauma give her freedom to treat Percy the way she does but Luke's trauma is irrelevant and downplayed?

I have a soft heart for characters with innate goodness who have been screwed over by life. Characters who could have been so much more but never got the chance to truly be happy and LIVE. I guess that's something Luke and Snape have in common. I guess another thing Luke and Snape have in common is that the hero protagonist gets all the glory for their pain and sacrifices.

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80svhstapes · 10 days ago

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Calicheer Moodboard - Forever Yours

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80svhstapes · 16 days ago

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luke castellan x fem!reader

luke finds you after you went missing in quest. on the way back home, luke’s determined to take care of you.

warnings: mention of weight loss, wounds, bl00d, just overall crying, reader and luke shower together 🫣, intimacy, kinda angst ???? idk it’s one of my first times writing this

₊˚⊹♡

There was a tense silence in the car. The cold night air hitting your face was refreshing yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of that nauseous feeling in your stomach and throat. Luke occasionally darted his gaze to you, but quickly looked back to the road, almost as if checking if you were still there or not.

"We´re almost there" he blurted out suddenly, glancing at you again. He´s been like this since he found you, trying to get you to talk, but you wouldn´t say a thing. It was ironic, how you used to spend so much time with Luke when you were younger and how he went through hell and back just to find you and yet, you were unable to form a word. Luke didn´t blame you though. He understood you more than anyone else. He didn´t want to talk to anyone when he came back from that quest that condemned him with more than one scar for the rest of his life.

And seeing you like this now, it was only like looking at his own reflection. He saw in you what everybody saw in him at seventeen.

The dirt on your clothes, or what was left of it, you were covered in a soft white blanket that Luke found in the back of the car. The dirt on your skin, your hair, under your nails. You didn´t have any old wounds visible, but fresh ones that were made just a few minutes ago when you and Luke had to fight your way out the cave of that cyclops. It stained the blanket.

You´ve lost weight, too much. Only you know how many hours or even days did that cyclops leave you to starve, weakening you more and more. Your skin seemed fragile, like a thin layer of glass, and that was your only protection.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

It took him time to find you, like a week or more. Chiron was convinced you´d find your way out of that mission, but when two weeks became three, and three became three more, that´s when camp started to get worried. No one dared to follow the same path you did, except Luke. What could he loose? Nothing but his own life. Chiron trusted him, and thank the Gods he did.

Luke couldn´t forget the sight of you when he found you, laying on the hard rocks, unconscious. If he hadn´t gotten there on time, you would have probably been eaten alive. When he lifted you up, he didn't want to admit the fact that you felt light, lighter than before. How weak he felt you.

He caught a glimpse of a tear when he got you into the car and put on your seatbelt, but again, he knew you wouldn´t make a sound. You both left the place silently, only trusting that Luke was driving you somewhere safe, that everything was over, that the cyclops stayed right in Tartarus where he belonged, and that Luke wasn´t going to be your second kidnapper.

At least the car, which was stolen, worked like wonders. The entire road trip was silent, sometimes broken by the sniffing of your nose or your uncomfortable movements. Luke couldn´t take you to camp, not yet at least, and as much as he wanted to, he also couldn´t. It was too far away now, and besides, you needed a proper rest.

"We´re here" he said as he parked the car. A solely motel stood there, on the side of the road, no sign of any other human or not human life around, just the dry and cold road, endless in the night. Luke knew this place was safe from any danger, he stayed there last night.

The receptionist didn´t even bother to look up and see that Luke was walking in with another person, wrapped in a white blanket and dirty. She just handed him the keys, her eyes glued to some fashion magazine.

The room was nothing special, just a small bed, a small table with two chairs, an old and uncomfortable looking sofa, a bathroom, and a closet. A tv was hanging on the wall, and a small fridge was standing in the corner. At least, you had a small balcony. You looked around, eyes trained and ready to decipher any type of danger, yet your head wouldn´t stop throbbing with pain, your eyes barely getting used to the artificial yellow light. Luke had placed his belongings on the bed, but as soon as your eyes caught them, he removed them and placed them over the table. "Sit" he demanded.

You obeyed, sitting on the bed and keeping a close eye on the older boy, watching as he opened the small fridge and brought out a bottle of water along with something wrapped in aluminum foil. "It´s what I have now" Luke stated, placing the wrapped food in your hands, if he was starved, he couldn´t imagine how your stomach was feeling. "I´ll get some more tomorrow, okay?"

You didn´t answer. Instead, you stared at the food. Luke was slightly startled when your fingers started to work rapidly around the foil, unwrapping the cold grilled cheese sandwich. You devoured it like a wild animal, taking big bites and barely even able to swallow before biting again. Luke chuckled slightly, placing a hand on your back, soothing slowly. "Easy there" he said, "It's all yours"

Your hands started to shake, your stomach protesting against the amount of food you were giving it after long weeks of starving. Tears started to prick your eyes, and Luke noticed. "Thank you, Luke" you sobbed out as soon as that sandwich disappeared. Your head crashed onto his shoulder, crying as Luke quickly wrapped an arm around you, "thank you" you kept repeating. Luke and you were close when you were younger, around fifteen or fourteen, but now a lot has changed. Yet, Luke never stopped looking after you.

It felt weird to cry on him. Your weeks of torture, pain, hunger and dirt and fear pressing onto Luke´s shoulders like a dark cloak, yet you couldn´t bring yourself to stop. You smelled the fresh air, clean one, how your back didn´t have goosebumps because you didn´t feel as if someone was behind you, waiting to attack. You felt safe and relaxed, but it was too overwhelming to feel thar way.

"Shh" Luke soothed, running a hand through your hair, "it's alright, I've got you"

And you stayed like that for a moment. You cried, and he held you. He knew how hard it was, and he didn't want to say anything that would hurt your feelings, so he remained quiet.

When your breathing evened out, your tears dried up and the shakiness of your hands died down, you brought yourself to stand up slowly. "I'm sorry" you whispered. You hated how your face got all red and puffy from crying, how the tears blurred your vision and how your voice sounded hoarse and shaky.

"No need," Luke smiled, "how about you take a shower?" he suggested, eyebrows rising softly.

You didn´t answer, Gods, you totally forgot what even a shower felt like. You suddenly felt embarrassed, what did you look like now? Your hair was probably way too dirty, all hard and tangled, not to mention the rest of your body. You were so disgusting, you didn't even know where to begin. That cyclops spat on you way too many times for you to not smell like his saliva, some of it even stuck to your clothes. Your breath must´ve been horrific, and you were sure you´d have to ask Luke for some extra underwear.

He stands up quick and jumps to the bathroom. You stand there, smelling your hair and immediately feeling as disgusted as ever. You hear the water running, Luke had turned on the shower for you. He must´ve noticed the way your eyes darted around nervously, a hundred thoughts and questions invading your mind in just a second. You wondered how much time you were there, standing like an idiot, for him to offer to turn on the water.

He came back quick, smiling softly and patting your shoulder. "It's all yours, don't worry, I won't watch"

You nod, a little embarrassed that you couldn´t even do the simplest tasks and he had to help you with it. "Thanks" you said again, removing the blanket over your shoulders and placing it over the bed. Luke watched as you walked away, the dried blood on your arms and fresh wounds decorating your pale skin like a canvas, he was sure he had some bandages or ambrosia to help you with that.

He sighed and threw himself on the bed, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv, trying his best not to think about you. He couldn't let his mind go back to the moment he found you, and the state you were in. It reminded him so much of him just a few years back. He promised himself to change, to not care, to foil his own heart with a thick layer of ice, but as soon as he realized how ugly things were turning after you didn´t come back, who was once his friend, that ice started to melt.

He wondered why were you even the one to leave in the first place, what were you thinking? Why did you accept the mission? Why didn't you say no? Luke couldn't bring himself to hate Chiron for sending you out there. It wasn't his fault, nor yours. You were young, and Luke knew it wasn't your first time either, but the danger was worse than any other mission you accomplished. He couldn´t stop thinking about you for some reason, maybe even way before you left, you were a part of his mind.

He was like an eagle, keeping an eye on you, watching, but never attacking. Never making his presence known. But then, the news of your missing broke his silence, his invisibility. It was just the same as if you were dead, and he was forced to watch as his friends cried over your absence.

"Luke?"

He jumped out of his position, startled by the sudden sound of your voice. The water was still running, he heard it, but you walked out of the bathroom with a towel around your fragile body. You were dripping little droplets, but you weren´t done, you weren´t clean. Still dirty, still bloody.

"What´s wrong?" he asked, maintaining his position on the bed.

"I-" you stuttered, embarrassed, "I can't do it"

Luke tilted his head in confusion "Do what?"

"Wash my hair, or- myself"

Your hair was wet, but not completely soaked, meaning you must´ve tried to wash it yourself but couldn't do it. "You can't reach it?" he asked, almost in disbelief rather than worry.

You shake your head, your cheeks red in embarrassment. You looked at Luke, and then at the ground, hoping that it would just open up and swallow you whole. "My arms hurt too much" you explain.

Luke stands up then, walking slowly towards you. As he does, you extend your arms to him, for him to see. Luke never noticed the purple rings that decorated your wrists, a clear sign of handcuffs or some type of chain. In the darkness of the night and the cave, he must´ve mistaken it with dirt on your skin, just as the rest of your body, covered in soot and dirt. He follows the path up to your forearms, which were a little better, but filled with cuts, fresh and old ones. He looks at your left bicep then, where a nasty purple bruise stood, three fat lines, just as fat as the cyclops’ hand.

Luke´s about to say something, that he understands, the he´ll help, but you turn around then. Luke sees the old wound on your other arm, your triceps, a clean deep cut probably executed with a knife or a pointy rock, the yellow, green and blue nebula-like image staining your skin.

His fingers tent to grab you softly, but he looks somewhere else. Slowly, he moves your hair out of the way, placing it over your shoulder softly. He stares then, looking at what the towel wasn´t able to cover. More bruises, although small, looked painful over your muscles. There were more cuts too. Scratches. Near your spine, a long pale pink stripe, stood proudly on your skin. It looked fine, but it must've hurt like hell, even more with such a slow healing. It would scar. If only Luke had come sooner.

"Get back in the shower" he demanded softly, placing his hands on your naked shoulders. "I´ll help you get clean"

You nod, not bothering to turn and look at him, but rather, just obeying. "Will you-, get in with me?"

Luke feels his heart race. He didn't mean to sound suggestive, no. His face was red. Your body was hot, he was sweaty, and the bathroom was filled with steam. His clothes started to stick to his skin, making him feel hotter and hotter, and the thought of being in the shower with you only made him want to slap himself and stay awake.

"Um-," he breathed out, trying to hide the way his voice cracked slightly, the way his throat went dry. "If you want to, I mean" he clears his throat, "I don´t want to make you uncomfortable"

"You won´t" you assure him. "But if it´s uncomfortable for you-"

"No" he interrupts you, way too quickly. "I mean, I´ll help you if that's what you want"

You don't bother to turn around, instead, you walk in the bathroom. Luke watches, his eyes trained on the back of your body, how some of your bones poked out slightly, the bruises, the cuts, the scratches. You close the door then, and Luke stands there, waiting. His heart starts to race and beat harder and harder, his hands sweat, his knees feel weak. He didn't even realize how bad his palms were sweating, and he rubs them over his shorts. Why was he so nervous? It wasn´t as if you were asking him to do anything weird, you just needed help and it was pitiful. You couldn´t even move properly, for God´s sake.

"You can come in" he hears you say.

He gulps, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting the air fill his lungs. He opens the door then, and walks in. He sees the towel hanging on the doorknob when he begins to remove his clothes. He grabs the edge of his boxers, wondering if it was really necessary to take it off. He takes a look at the shower, the curtain closed, the water running, he barely saw a glimpse of your shadow. Just the thought of walking in there made cold sweat drip down his spine.

He takes a deep breath, and removes his underwear. He figures that if nothing was meant to happen, and that you were fine with him seeing you, then he didn´t have to worry about you seeing him.

When he enters, the hot steam hits his body like a soft cloud, enveloping him in a warm embrace, and the water feels hot. He sees you, under the shower, the water running down your body, though it looked unpleasant. He doesn´t dare to look down or somewhere else that isn´t your face, yet he doesn´t feel like it´s a forced action. You make him comfortable, even when you´re in the most vulnerable state you´ll ever be in your life, he doesn´t feel anything else other than comfort.

You smile softly at him then, and he steps behind you. You hear him breathe heavily once or twice, but neither of you say anything. "Can I?" he asks then, pointing at the cheap motel shampoo. You nod, and let him do whatever he has to. It felt weird, having someone else take care of you this way. You didn´t know why you felt the need of him protecting you this way, but it wasn´t bad.

He pours some in his hands and places it over your hair, slowly working his way through the knots. You relax, the feeling was strange yet welcome. You forgot how pleasant and orgasmic showers were. He massages softly, avoiding to pull at any strand, and it feels nice. Soothing, almost. Your head throbs less, and the headache that had been bothering you since Luke took you out of that cave started to disappear slowly. His hands were gentle, caring, and his breathing was soft behind your neck.

It was hard for him, though. To pretend as if nothing was happening. His heart was beating harder and faster with each second, the blood rushing through his veins, his palms sweaty and his eyes wanting to look elsewhere. But he was afraid, he couldn´t risk losing his cool and making you feel uncomfortable, so he didn´t dare. He was thankful you were facing away, that way, you couldn't see the way his cheeks blushed.

"Thank you" you whispered, the water running down your face and hair. Luke had managed to get rid of all the knots in your hair, and you felt so much better already.

"Don't thank me" he replied, letting the shampoo fall of your hair to cleanse. He took the little bottle again then, and repeated the process. He figured that just one round of shampoo wouldn´t be enough for you.

He followed the same path with the hair conditioner. He looked down briefly when he was done, careful not to go too low, but he noticed the dirt still lingering on your skin, the one that the splash of hot water couldn´t clean. He grabbed the soap then, and lathered it softly in his hands. His eyes lingered on the scars that decorated your body, he wondered what did they come from, where were you hit and how, why did you get them and how did they look like before.

He got close to your ear, "Let me know if anything hurts, okay?" he asked softly. You barely look at him over your shoulder, and you nod. It was more than obvious that everything would hurt, even the water splashing on your skin, yet you wouldn´t complain about it all.

He pressed the soap against your skin, but he didn’t dare to touch you any more than that. His free hand remained in his side, away from you. You didn´t know if he was doing it because he didn't want to touch you, or because he wanted you to tell him it was okay to do so, and that he was allowed to touch. His hands rubbed the soap, creating a thin layer over the dirt and grime. You closed your eyes. it was better to think of anything else other than the feeling of his hands on you, but you found your mind wandering to his body, only separated by air.

His hand rubbed circles on your shoulder almost as a kind gesture for you to warm up, but you couldn’t help but interpret it more than that. It was such a small kind gesture, but your body reacted in such ways to it ― goose bumps spreading like wildfire across your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

You hissed when he started rubbing your back, the soapy water stung your wounds, the smaller they where, the worse it hurt.

Luke stopped. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but it wasn´t convincing. "It just burns a little" you explain, little tears stung your eyes.

He understood, and continued. He was careful not to press too hard or anything, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. He watched as the soap did its magic, how it got rid of the dirt and grime that stuck on your skin.

He dared to step a little closer when he reached your neck. He felt warm, his hands were soft, his grip gentle. You felt like you could fall asleep in the comfort of his embrace, warm and soft, not daring to harm. You closed your eyes, the water running down your face. Your breathing was soft, and you didn't have a clue of what you were doing to him.

His fingers on your neck tickle a little, yet it feels as if the most precious touch someone could ever give you. It felt sweet, tender, and you couldn't help but lean into the touch. Just slightly, just a little bit, you let your hair fall. It reaches Luke´s shoulder barely, yet Luke feels a wake of warm comfort over him.

He feels the need to grab you, to hold you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, he wants to tell you it's going to be alright, and that he's got you, but he can't. Not yet.

The soap´s smell impregnates in your body. Though cheap, it´s sweet. It smells like peaches, a deep artificial version of it at least. It was relaxing, almost like a lullaby. He stops then, his fingers lingering over the bruise on your triceps. The cut looks a little better without all the dirt and irritation, yet the bruise around it remains the same. He brushes it softly with his thumb, like a comforting caress. It doesn´t hurt, so you say nothing.

That same hand travels up then, careful not to brush any other wound, not allowing himself to hear a single cry come out from your lips. The water´s still hot when he reaches your shoulder, and your breathing has slowed down, yet his heart beats faster than ever.

He lets himself get lower, his torso leaning into you, his head lowering. His nose grazes your shoulder softly, just a slight movement, almost an innocent gesture. Your skin was soft, delicate. And he lets himself go lower, his lips placing a kiss on your shoulder.

It´s small and tender, lasted less than a few seconds. But he stays there, his hair getting wet, the water dripping down the side of your body, like you and him got frozen in time. The waters keeps on running but the room is filled with silence, as if it had to be broken by one of you. You say nothing, nor him.

Luke doesn´t have the heart to pull away. He doesn´t know why did he kiss you, he doesn´t know why did he allow himself to be this close, but he wanted to do it again, and he couldn´t bring himself to regret it. It felt like the most natural thing, and he wonders if he had gone mad, if he was still sane or not. But you did not reject him, nor did you pull away.

Your hand is tentative when you reach for his, the one placed on your shoulder. You feel his chest pressed onto your back, and you can feel the heat coming from him, how the water droplets run down his hair, his neck and his face, and how his breath is soft against your skin, warm, and it tickles a little.

He kisses again, the same spot, and then once more. Your hand is warm in his, and your fingers brush softly against his knuckles, like an encouraging gesture. He kisses once more, and then his lips travel further up, reaching your neck, and the next thing you feel is his lips on your pulse point. They press there, and stay still. It tingles your whole skin, goosebumps travelling from your ribs to your toes, the feeling exciting you.

He´s the one holding your hand then, flipping it and taking a soft hold of your wrist, careful not to squeeze your bruises around it. He lifts your hand close to his face, but his lips travel directly to your wrist, maybe a little lower, kissing your forearm. Over the tiny cuts, the scratches. He doesn´t press, and he doesn´t hurt. The warmth of his lips is inviting, and his tongue is soft, the way his mouth opens and closes over your skin like a delicate flower. When you dare to look a little closer, to look at him, his lips go to your knuckles, pressing softly over the dry blood that stained your hands. His lips were soft, like a cloud, and tender. He kisses them all, so gentle and soft that it makes you forget about the pain, how sore you are, and it makes you want to touch him too.

Just from one of his kisses on your hand.

He stops then, his sweet lips separating from your skin, but his hand still held yours. He wrapped his hand around yours, your fingers curling inside the grip of his own, trapping it in his warm embrace. Your body still faces the front, the water splashing both of your bodies as you lock eyes with him. He presses his forehead to yours, and his nose gently brushes against yours, the tip of it going up and down your own.

Your hear and feel his breath, even though it feels steady. Your heart beats a thousand miles, and you can´t help yourself but to close your eyes and feel. He leans closer then, his lips inches away from yours, and you can feel his breath and taste the water that runs down his lips and his chin, and suddenly, the space between your bodies doesn't feel big.

But it was. Because when the distance was about to be broken and Luke´s lips would finally press against yours, you had to pull away.

He doesn't look upset, he doesn't look hurt, his expression doesn't change. He knows. And that's the best part, how he doesn't feel bad for the mistake. You pull away almost as if you were pulling yourself away from him fully, yet you didn´t. You stayed close enough to feel his presence pressing behind you, yet far enough for him to not be able to reach your lips. He lets go of your hand, and you can´t help but think of yourself as someone stupid. Such a warm feeling, such a comfortable and protected embraced, destroyed by you, and your fears.

"I, uh..." you darted, facing the wall, your wet hands pressed to your face. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, it's fine" he said, his voice was still soft, yet the way his tone changed was noticeable. You could hear the embarrassment in his words. ¨You don't have to apologize, really. I'm sorry"

"No, don't-" you breathed out, trying to find the right words. You didn't want him to apologize for something he didn't do. It was all your fault. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment, it's just... I-"

"Really, don't worry about it" Luke insisted, trying to keep the situation calm. The water was starting to feel cold, and the room was getting less steamy, but neither of you bothered. He placed a hand on your shoulder again, careful not to startle you. "Can I still help you?" he asks.

You look down at yourself, how weird your body looked like this now. Almost clean. "It's fine, I can clean my... front"

You slapped yourself in your mind for that. Luke chuckled silently behind you. "Okay" he sighed. He opened the curtain and slowly stepped outside the shower, partly because he didn´t want to leave, and partly because he didn´t want to slip in the wet floor. "Let me know if you need me for when you're done"

You nodded, and then he was gone. As soon as he walked out the door, you leaned back, letting your head rest on the wall behind you. Your breathing was shaky, and your legs felt weak. The room was filled with the sound of the running water and the beating of your heart. It felt like a dream, yet you couldn't believe how stupid were you. The both of you naked? In the shower? You let him see you like this? What the hell were you thinking?

You felt a little desperate for human touch, that was a fact but, did you have to go this far? What if he thought you were easy? He probably felt pity, and that was why he was helping you. What if you made things weird between you two now?

You finished quickly, cleaning yourself up the best you could, but the process was long. Your body hurt, and no matter how hard you tried, there were still wounds that refused to be cleaned, and it only frustrated you more. You got out of the shower nicely though, wrapped in two surprisingly cozy towels. You noticed the unfamiliar clothes resting on a wooden chair that wasn´t there when you got in the shower. You recognized those sweatpants; Luke brought you clothes.

Luke was lying on the bed watching tv, some old crappy show that distracted him barely from the previous shower experience. You walked slowly, the pain on your legs was almost unbearable. "Um, I'm done"

Luke turned his head to look at you. He was dressed too, wearing a plain shirt and some old sweats. A toothy grin appeared on his lips, "Too big?" he asked, eyes darting down to your covered legs. You blushed a little, startled by the sudden confidence and embarrassed by the fact that you had to hold tight onto those sweats as you walked or else, they'd fall. You sat on the bed next to him, looking for some miracle hairbrush in the empty motel cabinets. You weren´t lucky enough. "I wanted to get you something to eat from the vending machine, but I didn't want to leave you alone" he explained.

You shook your head, "You said we were safe here but it only works when you're in the same room as me?" you suggest, jokingly.

Luke shrugged, "I was sent to find and protect you, so that's what I'll do" he simply replied.

You looked at him, and smiled. How could he be so nice after all the stupid things you've done?

"Don't worry, I'm not even hungry" you stated, completely ignoring his bravery. "I'm just tired, I wanna sleep"

"Sure" Luke smiled. "I'll just turn off the lights and-" he said as he stood up from the bed, walking towards the light switch. "I'll let you sleep"

You frowned your brows though. "Wait, you won't sleep here?" you asked, confused.

Luke reached the switch, yet he didn't touch it. Instead, he glared towards the other side of the room, where the old sofa laid. Now, it was covered in sheets and a pillow, a homemade bed. You noticed the way he tried to avoid your eyes. "I thought you wouldn't want to, you know..." he pointed the bed, followed by a quick scratch on the back of his neck.

You couldn't blame him, honestly. After what happened in the shower, he had all the rights to assume that. But that didn't mean you were okay with it. You didn't want him to sleep uncomfortably on the couch, nor did you want to kick him out of the bed. It was big enough for the two of you. Luke has been having quite rough days, you couldn't help but notice on his tired face. It was his first time resting properly since the mission and he was going to sleep in an old and creaky sofa?

You hissed with pain when you positioned yourself differently on the bed, Luke attempted to grab you as if you were falling, but you got yourself comfortable fast enough. "Don't be silly. Sleep on the bed" you said.

Luke frowned his brows, followed by a shook of his head in denial "I don't mind sleeping there" he reassured, pointing the couch. "It's not even uncomfortable" he lied, remembering the way he struggled to make it into a bed. ¨At least the sheets are clean, I made sure of that" he added.

"Luke, stop it" you said, behaving tough for a second, "I know you want to sleep here. It´s a bed"

Luke stared at you for a moment, thinking of the way his body was already screaming at him to lay down and sleep. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep there, it was that he wanted to. He knew the bed was big enough, but the shower incident had him doubting himself. Was it alright? Did you even want him there? Or was he invading your privacy? The questions invaded his mind like a disease, and the way you looked at him with pleading eyes was almost enough to convince him, but the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured.

"You saved me. It's the least I could do for you now"

Luke felt his heart melt, and he had the biggest urge to hold you and protect you. But instead, he nodded and smiled briefly. He pressed his sweaty hands against his sweatpants as he started walking, but quickly walked back again to do the previous task he didn't finish; turning off the light. You took the sheets of the bed and slipped in slowly, Luke helped you by holding your arms softly. He slipped after quietly, trying not to disturb the peace.

The silence hugged the room, the only sound erupting from a bunch of crickets outside and the low volume coming from the TV. It was a weird sensation, sharing a bed with someone else after being rescued from a cyclops’ cave, and not knowing what was okay or not. It felt wrong, yet you didn't want him to leave. It felt right, though.

"Good night" you whispered then, closing your eyes, the fatigue in your body screaming for a proper sleep.

"Good night" Luke replied, turning to his side, giving you his back. The bed wasn't small, but it wasn't that big either, yet he didn't dare to move a single inch.

You weren't asleep yet. You heard him for a couple minutes, his breathing, the way he moved slightly, how the sheets brushed against his skin. It was a little distracting, but you felt the tiredness take over you, the darkness surrounding you easily. Luke closed his eyes, but the only thing he could think about was your warmth. It was like an oven, and even if he was sweaty, his whole body was hot. He knew exactly what he had to do, what to say, and he stood there, in that abyss in which someone doesn't know what to do, if step forward or step back.

He needed to get it out of his chest, or else, he would regret it forever.

"I've always liked you"

His voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it was loud. The air hitched on your throat. You turned your head to see him, but you only perceived he was turning his back to you.

"What?" you asked. Fearing that maybe, he was talking in his sleep.

Your heart began beating fast. It felt like the shower, a hot embrace.

"I've always liked you, yn" he repeated.

There was a moment of silence. Your eyes were trained on his figure, yet he didn't dare to look back at you. You felt a knot in your stomach, butterflies. Your breathing was calm, yet your heart was beating a thousand miles. Why was he telling you this now?

"I know you have a million things running through your mind right now and I know I'm being selfish, but" he said, words coming out like vomit, "I was so glad that I found you. I'm relieved that you're alive. I guess I'm letting all my emotions get in the way and that's why I'm telling you this now"

It was hard to formulate the right words. He didn't know what was going on, or what he was doing, he didn't know why. Maybe the heat had gotten into his head. It was stupid, the feeling, but he couldn't deny it. He knew that, sooner or later, he'd have to tell you.

Fuck, and if he was telling you this he was going to have to do it the right way.

He turned his body around once again, the bed creaking with his weight. You couldn't see much because of the dark, yet the tv light did just enough for you to see his glistening eyes.

"I know we haven't spoken in a while" he admitted, embarrassed. "But I've always cared for you and you know it. I realized why I cared so much after I lost you"

You stared at him, his brown eyes shining under the yellow light. He was right, the two of you didn't speak since a few years ago, but he was the one to blame. After his own mission, he blew everyone away, every person that tried to help him, including you. He though you did it for pity; he hates pity.

"So seeing you now, after nobody knew anything about you, it's just..." he continued, unable to find the right words. "I'm just glad I'm the one who found you. And I'm sorry about the shower, I-" he rushed himself to correct that mistake before you thought of him as a pervert. "I don't want you to think that I'm trying to do something with you. I wouldn't take advantage of you, and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know that-"

You cut him off, "I know" you said, reassuring him. You let your hand fall back, placing it over the mattress. "Gods, relax, Luke" you breath out.

You let your hand hover his for a second, until he took the initiative to brush his fingers against yours, carefully and slow. The warmth spread from his hand to yours, and soon, the contact was enough. His eyes darted down, and his thumb brushed softly over the bruises and cuts on your skin.

He had so many things he wanted to say, but none of them left his mouth. He'd have time to do it later.

"Thank you" you said once again. One more time before the day ended didn't hurt anybody.

The corner of his lip twitched in a small smile. "Let's get to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah" you whispered, "But, can you still hold my hand?" you asked.

Luke chuckled softly, squeezing your hand softly, almost pressing it against his chest. "Anytime"

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