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murdrdocs · 6 months ago

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death do us part

description. there's murders happening at camp half blood, and you and LUKE CASTELLAN care about them. really, you do. but you can't help but sneak off and break a few of the rules of survival laid out by luke's brother. besides, what's really the worst thing that can happen?

includes. SMUT 18+, mutual masturbation (kinda), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, mentions of vibrators (m and f receiving), shower sex, some mentions of death, subby luke vibes, dom reader vibes, whipped luke, situationships, slightly bitchy reader

wc. 3.4k+

a/n: art is record separator by phil hale. barely edited

Both of you are being selfish.

Distantly, in the back of your mind beneath the raging hormones perhaps, you’re aware that this is not only disrespectful but also irresponsible.

Luke’s brother’s words ring in your head, reminding you over and over again.

You had been sitting around an unsanctioned campfire at the time, a dozen or so of you all passing around bottles of alcohol that had been snuck in by one of Luke’s younger siblings who was desperate to impress and please all of you. With the buzz taking over your body and providing a general feeling of elation, you must admit that they impressed you. Maybe Luke too, who was surely delighted to have you all over him. Your little game of cat and mouse was finally coming to an end, likely spurred on by the havoc that had taken over Camp Half-Blood. Everyone was on edge, wondering who was next. Because according to Chris and a few other kids who were slasher fanatics, there would be a next. And soon.

Which is likely why all of you were down by the shore and letting off steam. Simply existing before something happened by the time the sun rose.

Usually, come morning you would blame your touchiness towards Luke on alcohol. But now, if either of you made it to the morning, you swore you would stop playing hard to get, throw caution to the wind, and kiss him during first daylight, a signifier that your relationship, whatever was going on between you two, withstood the test of the night and could now be official.

You two could do it. If that was tipsy delusion or rationale talking, you didn’t know.

All you knew was that Chris Rodriquez was definitely drunk, but there had to be some truth to his words.

“Listen, listen.” He stood, raising his beer bottle as if he were about to toast. You hoped the bottle wasn’t empty yet, for Chris had a habit of pulling you all into a game of spin the bottle whenever he got like this. Sometimes, you didn’t mind it. Not when you got to kiss Luke. But watching Luke kiss someone else always left a sour taste on the back of your tongue.

When Chris took a swig, you sighed a bit and slunk further into Luke’s side.

“If we’re going to survive this–” each of you knew what he was talking about. The grieving families and empty beds made sure you each knew what was happening. “We’ll have to live by a set of rules.”

“Rules?” Luke spoke from beside you for the first time in a while. You turned to look at him and immediately got distracted. His scar shined in the warm lighting, the orange making the slight flush along his cheeks a little more distinct. His eyes were heavy. They were relaxed. He was relaxed, and the irony didn’t fly over your head.

Weirdly enough, you found yourself relaxed, too. Tucked into his side with his arm slung over your shoulder like the two of you were together. It was normal for you both to get like that late at night, but the difference in the air made it seem more sentimental.

Luke, likely sensing your staring, turned to look at you. He smiled just a bit, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The two of you separated soon enough to hear Chris’ rant.

“Yeah. Rules.” When no one around the bonfire seemed to understand what rules he was referring to, he took a swig of his beer, sat it on the log behind him, and stood on his soap box.

“There are a set of rules to surviving something like this. Rule number 1: never say you’ll be right back. Trust me, you won’t.”

One of the girls raised her hand, her face scrunched into a pout. Chris stopped to look at her, pointing a finger as an indicator for her to speak. “What do we say instead?”

Chris took a second. He hesitated, his dark and glassy eyes searching around him for an answer, then, “Just leave and come back. Don’t announce it.”

The answer seemed good enough for her and Chris continued.

“Rule number 2: don’t shower alone. This is just an invitation for the killer to sneak up on you, and slash you up. Next thing you know, we’re finding you stark naked.” This rule seemed to make sense for everyone else and no one spoke up. “Rule number 3: do not have sex. And if you’re a virgin, now is not the time to lose your virginity.”

This incited a low level of outrage from a few people around the camp. Your hand settled on Luke’s thigh, and you could feel him staring at you. Still, you continued to stare ahead at Chris.

“It’s not safe!” He exclaimed. “You’re left vulnerable, just like in rule 2, and for some reason, killers love to prey on the promiscuous. Just keep it in your pants until whoever is doing this is caught. That’s all. And rule 4, the most important one: never ever, ever go off alone. This will single you out and make you an easy target. You follow these rules, and maybe you’ll survive.”

Chris finished his rant, took a final swig of his beer, and sat back down.

Luke’s hand fell to your thigh. He ran his touch up and down once, and then squeezed your flesh twice. From the corner of your eye, you saw the grin grow on Luke’s face and turned to him. Neither of you had to say anything. Luke raised his eyebrows, smiled at you, and you nodded.

Luke opened his mouth to likely spew out some bullshit excuse, but everyone’s attention turned towards one of the kids sitting next to Chris who suddenly broke out of a stupor to protest Chris’ rules. Which left you and Luke an opening.

He took his arm from around your shoulder, placed his hand out for you to take, and then stood with you on his heels.

“Where’re you two going?” Silena asked from beside you.

You grinned down at her and communicated all you needed to in that one look. “To sleep. Chris said not to leave alone, right?”

She was clearly unconvinced, but she still nodded and kept her mouth shut.

And the two of you walked away to the sound of Chris pitching yet another spin-the-bottle game.

Which brought you here, in the bathrooms instead of your cabin. Your poorly formed excuse spoken to Luke was something along the lines of needing to scrub off the grime from the day, and especially the thick layer of bug spray that you’ve recently had to use. Some of the more superstitious kids in camp attributed the increase in bugs to the increase in deaths. You attributed it to a malfunction of the Mist.

You knew that Luke, being the gentleman that he is, wouldn’t dare let you shower alone. Not since his brother laid out the rules. You also knew that Luke, being as infatuated with you as he is, would take any chance he could to get with you, even if it was selfish and irresponsible.

But you don’t think he’s considering either factor right now as he’s kissing you as if he has a one-track mind.

One of the showers is running behind you. The two of you had originally been waiting for the water to turn hot, but that happened a while ago, and now Luke was keeping you busy in the center of the bathroom, his hands gratefully roaming over your body, feeling you up.

He has one hand settled along the back of your thigh, just right under the end of your jean shorts. His other hand grips your cheek, holding your face steady for him to messily kiss you. You don’t mind the mess of it, you’re not bothered by the way his tongue clumsily slips outside of your mouth a few times, because it’s a sign of how he’ll fuck you. Unabashed, uninhibited, maybe he’ll even whimper in your ear when he cums.

Just the thought alone is enough to encourage you.

You hook your fingers under Luke’s shirt, a faded graphic tee you thrifted and brought back to camp for him, and lift it just over his navel. He gets the message and pulls away from your lips, but there’s a force pulling him back once, twice, and one final time before he pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He looks like something out of a movie as he lifts the black shirt off by the neckline and tosses it to the floor. You don’t know if he means to, but he flexes while he does it, his abdomen taunt and the veins in his arms popping out more than usual.

You’ve seen Luke’s body many times and in many different scenarios, but each time you have to take a moment. And he knows you well enough to anticipate it.

He stands within arms reach, watching you watch him. You can’t tell since your eyes are focused on the way his abs frame his navel, the way his skin has deepened a shade, and the scars and moles that are dotted across his body, but he’s smiling. A small, barely there quirk of his lips.

Eventually, you take a step closer to Luke, pressing your fingers into his skin and sliding your hands back until your fingers interlock around his back. You pull Luke closer to you, lifting your head and nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

“You done?” he asks, referencing your prolonged staring.

You hum, nodding as you reach for Luke’s lips with your own. “‘m done.” And then Luke kisses you again.

There’s some repetition when Luke lifts your shirt over your head, but he appreciates your frame with his lips. He kisses your shoulders and neck as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. He litters kisses into your stomach as he sinks to his knees, pulling your now unbuttoned shorts with him. He helps you step out of them, taking your shoes off as he does so, and when you’re only left in your panties, he looks up at you.

“Mind if I do the honors?”

You answer him through a grin. “Only if you let me return the favor.”

And he does.

It has been clear that your shower with Luke was likely going to be more than a shower, even though it was previously unspoken between you both. It doesn’t need to be spoken, not whenever there’s an obvious wet patch in your panties when Luke pulls them down, or when you’re face to face with his semi when you pull his boxers off of his hips.

You look up at Luke, your eyes slightly narrowed and a tiny smile on your lips. You don’t say anything, but Luke still rolls his eyes. He scoffs, jerks his head in a motion that tells you to stand. As soon as you do, he has your face in his hands and his lips on yours. Your hands grip his sides, keeping him pressed close to you.

Luke blindly walks you both back to the shower. He turns when your back faces the shower head, and lets the water flow down onto him first, pulling away only when his hair starts to get wet.

He has his eyes shut, water cascading down his body in a way that makes him look like one of the Greek sculptures that now sit locked in museums.

He pushes his hair off of his forehead, tipping his head back.

“Hair,” he tells you. And it takes you a second to tell that he’s asking you if you’re gonna put yours back. You quickly throw your hair up and out of your face, putting it back enough to avoid the stream of the shower, and then you pull Luke closer to you.

“Not even gonna pretend to shower? Maybe do a quick rinse?” He’s teasing, but you roll your eyes, move Luke out of the way, and then stand beneath the stream, lifting your arms and turning around to let the water roll over your body.

You look up at Luke and catch him staring. His eyes trail along your tits, deep gaze following individual droplets of water as they collide with your shoulder and roll all the way down to the peak of your tits, where they drop off to fall to the shower floor.

You scoff but don’t say anything. You’re not a hypocrite.

“Happy?” You ask him as you step out from the water.

His answer comes in the form of grateful hands pressing into your lower back. His fingertips pinch your hips as he directs you to the side wall. You don’t have to be told to tilt your head up. You’re already waiting for him, unable to resist smiling into the kiss when Luke brings his lips down onto yours.

He trails a hand down between your thighs, knocking them further apart with a tap of his knee against yours.

When his fingers, the middle and index, pull your lips apart, you sigh into his mouth. When they press against you, spreading the wetness already gathered there, you mewl against his tongue.

Luke’s good with his fingers, you both know it. At this point in your relationship—or whatever both of you decide to call it in the moment—with Luke, he knows you well. He knows that you like it when he hooks his fingers and slightly grazes the top of your walls. He doesn’t have to ask if you’re feeling good, but he does it anyway.

“Good?” Spoken against your lips, the ghost of his own lips brushing against yours as his words enter your mouth.

You nod, knocking your head back against the wall without much care of the water there.

Luke’s other hand clasps behind your knee where he lifts your leg, pressing the inside of it to his hip. He has you opened up for him, giving him free range to practically piston his fingers inside of you. It’s a fervorous pace, more hungry than you’ve known Luke to be. But you don’t mind it.

It’s late, the two of you are as tired as you are horny, it’s nice to rub one out quickly and then knock out. It’s a routine both of you are used to.

Like usual, you reach forward and wrap your hand around Luke’s cock.

It’s no surprise when you swipe your thumb over his tip and are greeted with precum. Truthfully, you’re shocked there’s not more. But tonight, unlike other nights, you hadn’t given Luke the workaround. You wanted him. He knew you wanted him. And you were tired of pretending, tired of acting like you didn’t want to really and truly be with Luke.

You would tell him. You were gonna tell him tonight.

… After you came.

It doesn’t take much more of Luke’s work for you to feel the beginnings of an orgasm creeping in. The urge to reach it is what has you locking your fingers in Luke’s wet curls and nudging him down.

He doesn’t protest. He just smiles and sinks to his knees, settling his head between your thighs. Without much hesitance at all, he latches his lips onto your clit.

Soon thereafter you’re arching into his mouth, your standing leg locked while your bent one hooks over Luke’s shoulder, pulling him closer even though your hand in his hair has already assured that he’s as close as he can get. His fingers curl within you, massaging your fluttering walls as you cum around them. Your moans are loud, echoing off of the walls and barely shrouded by the thunder of water meeting the tiled floors. Distantly, you hope that no one else has decided to come for a shower tonight, but the thought in the forefront of your mind is that you hope your orgasm never ends.

It feels so good when Luke makes you cum. It always does. Rather he does it like this, with his fingers and mouth, or even his cock, or if he does it with one of the toys you brought back from home with you, a recent fascination of his.

The image of when you had used the toy on Luke, pressing the vibrating shape onto his tip, pushes an aftershock out of your body, one that is pulled to completion by Luke’s eager work between your legs.

When he pulls himself from between your legs, he swipes his palm, spread out as flat as it can get, along your cunt. You don’t realize that he did it to gather your wetness until he has that same hand wrapped around his cock. He tugs, spreading your arousal with the movement.

It does the trick, Luke’s eyes fluttering shut as he twists his wrist.

You tut and pull his hand away from his wrist. He doesn’t question it, only watching you through heavy eyes as you spit a large glob into your hand and replace Luke’s work with your own.

His arms wrap around your waist. They wrap around your shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours and then lets his head fall to your shoulder whenever you pick your pace up a bit.

He’s noisy, you can feel his chest vibrating from where you have your hand pressed into his sternum. But he’s too quiet for you to hear. His volume, paired with the noise of the shower, frustrates you. You dip your head to the side, attempting to get your ear closer to Luke.

It works a bit, you’re able to hear his low groans, but it’s not enough.

Eventually, you call his name. It comes out as a mix between a request and a demand, existing somewhere in the middle where you hold a considerable amount of control of Luke Castellan, practically the leader of leaders at Camp Half-Blood.

Yet, you’re his pied piper.

He hums, his eyebrows pushed together. You can’t tell if his look is one of confusion or pleasure. You figure it’s both.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” This is a plea.

Luke nods once, and then he looks at you.

It’s something you wanted, but it makes you flush a little. Having Luke’s undivided attention always made you squirm a bit, even when it usually made your ego flare. But that was when you weren’t here. When you were fully clothed and surrounded by the protection of your friends. When they giggled and nudged your side to tell you that the Luke Castellan was staring at you. This look isn’t much different from the one he gave you then, but there’s weight to it. He’s staring at you, with something so sincere in his eyes. Beyond just horniness, beyond a desire for you to make him cum.

It’s so much, too much, but you were the one to request it, so you don’t back down.

You square your shoulders and jerk Luke off with more determination.

His eyes start to flutter shut as he gets closer, getting heavier and heavier as if he’s fighting off sleep. But each time they close, they open back up in a couple of seconds. He’s so determined to obey you, it’s flattering. It’s impossible for the way Luke Castellan treats you to not go to your head. Especially when he starts speaking to you.

“Feels so good. ‘m so close. A little bit more.”

He knocks his forehead against yours, holding you still by cupping the back of your neck when your head lolls from the force of the collision.

He kisses you as he cums. His cock twitched in your hand as warm cum spurts onto your stomach and thighs. His lips move slowly, languidly, not kissing you as much as they just linger.

But it’s fine that way. You don’t mind it that way.

By the time both of you have come down, really came down, you’ve washed yourselves clean of the bug spray, cum, and general grime of camp. Luke shuts the shower off, he pads over to the linen closet at the end of the bathroom and you’re momentarily grateful that the kids have actually done their chores and restocked the closet with fresh towels whenever you realize neither you or Luke have clothes.

Not only did you not have clean and fresh clothes, but the clothes you were wearing before were gone now.

When you alert Luke of the problem, he groans. He tosses you a towel, wrapping his own around his waist, and stands in the center of the bathroom with his hands tossed onto his hips. He thinks for a second, clicking his tongue a few times.

“Okay,” he turns to face you. “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes. You stay here.” He kisses your forehead, readjusts his towel on his hips, and tells you, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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