26. Archer

G rowing up in my family I have always felt lucky, even when my parents got divorced, because I never once felt unloved or unwanted. There were no huge arguments, no separate holidays, and no wondering if things were ever my fault. In fact, all of my parents go out of their way to constantly remind not just me, but Rora and Ever too, that we are appreciated and loved. Yet still, when Aurora loudly asked about the marks on my neck over Christmas dinner, and boldly questioned if they were from Daemon, I did feel a little panic. Not because I thought my parents would judge me in any way for getting with a guy, but because I know things between said guy and I are still undecided, unlabeled, and I knew they would have questions.

Which I was right about, of course. The remainder of the night was spent being bombarded with questions from my mom and Katrina, about who Daemon is, how I met him, when we got together, and each one was more painful than the last. It’s why I had to escape to Everest’s room to drink. The fucker is the only one with a lock on his door, but of course he also teased me endlessly, about apparently having fucked all the women in Fairfield that I had no choice but to move onto the men. I pushed the little prick off his bed for that, but all he did was wink, before calling both his best friends and telling them I had a boyfriend.

Now, as I try to leave the house and start my drive back to Fairfield, I am being assaulted by all four of my parents and their unconditional love.

“I wish you were staying longer, Sweetheart,” my mom coos, following me hand in hand with David, as I make my way outside to my car.

“We could send a car to pick up your boyfriend,” my dad cuts in from behind them, with Katrina at his side, being just as accepting as always.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I groan for probably the hundredth time in the last two days, tossing my bags in the trunk of my car, before turning and finding them all in a line, staring at me with smiles. I groan again. “Can we please not do this, you guys, you’ve never taken an interest in my love life before, so why start now?”

They all share a look, and laugh, before my dad clears his throat. “I don’t think casually fucking an endless string of girls counts as a love life, son,” he tells me, and fuck me, there are certain things that you should never hear from your parents’ mouths, and that was definitely one of them.

“Please stop,” I plead, slamming my trunk closed, and moving to give them all a hug.

“We’re just excited, Arch,” Katrina tells me. “You’ve never been serious about anyone before.”

A flush creeps up the back of my neck. “I never said I was serious about Daemon. In fact, I never said anything about him at all,” I toss back, silently cursing out my sister for putting me in this position, as I reach my mom.

“You didn’t have to say it, Sweetheart, I can see it, we all can,” she beams, before pulling me in for a hug. “I can’t wait to meet the boy who has mine smiling so widely,” she adds in a whisper, just as my siblings approach.

“Rushing home to your boyfriend?” Everest smirks, and Aurora doesn’t even try to look sorry as she laughs, his head snapping towards her and his smile getting ever wider.

“Nope, heading out to find new siblings, as my current ones suck,” I grin back, rubbing both their heads with my knuckles, before I head around to the driver’s side of my car. “Why are you all out here seeing me off like I am leaving for war? I’ll be back next week for Mom’s charity thing,” I say, waving them off, but still I am smiling as I climb in my car and begin the drive back home.

You’re fucking mine now, Archer. I own you, and I own your fucking pleasure.

Those fucking words have done nothing but plague my mind since he walked out of my room the other day. I mean, fuck, the whole encounter of him jerking us off, while holding me down against my desk, will probably be something I never forget. It felt like I had died and finally found fucking Heaven, but what did he mean by those words? In what way am I his? Are we in this now, are we finally exploring whatever this fucking thing is between us? Or is he going to go back to being a giant fucking prick and acting like I don’t exist?

We can talk when you get back.

That’s what he said, so I guess there is only one way to find out.

I floor it all the way back to Fairfield, grateful for the quiet roads, thanks to the holidays, and when I pull up in front of my house, it’s almost 10 p.m. I have barely shut off the engine when I pull out my phone and fire off a text to him.

Archer - Are you awake?

He only makes me wait a couple of seconds for his response, my eyes on his already darkened house.

Daemon - Yes

One word, that’s it, and I can’t help but smile, as I shove open my car door, grab my bag, and make my way across the street.

Archer - Good, then let me in

My message shows as read right away, and the typing bubbles come and go, but a reply is never sent, and it isn’t until a minute later, when he rips open the front door and his confused stare meets mine, that I smile.

“Finally, I thought you were going to let me freeze my balls off out here,” I muse, pushing past him to get inside, not pausing for even a second as I head straight up to his room. By the time he joins me, it’s clear his confusion has only grown, especially when I drop my bag on the floor and shrug off my coat. “You don’t mind if I shower before we go to bed, right? Driving always makes me feel gross.” I nod towards his en suite, as he flicks his stare between me and my bag.

“Archer, what are you doing here?” he asks, completely bewildered, which I’m not sure why when he’s the one who said I was his. Why wouldn’t I be here?

“You said we could talk when I got home.” I gesture towards my very clear presence in his room. “You also said I was yours now. So, here I am, clearly ready to talk, and definitely ready to be yours,” I tell him, not sure which part of this is tripping him up, but still he continues to stare. I close the distance between us, suddenly feeling nervous that he doesn’t want me here, or worse, has changed his mind about me. “Should I leave?” I ask carefully, not sure if I want the answer, but his eyes instantly soften.

“No, stay,” he replies instantly, looking like he surprises even himself with that response, before he sighs. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never really done whatever this is. I guess I thought it would be slower.”

His words make me smile, as I slowly slide my hand into his. “I’m pretty sure whatever the fuck this is has been going on since freshman year, how much slower can we get?”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as his hand slides around the back of my neck, pulling me against him. “That’s because it took you three years to grow some fucking balls and admit you want me,” he mocks, the lightness in his smile so fucking blinding that I never want it to stop.

“What, and you telling me to go fuck myself was flirting, was it?” I toss back, ignoring the swirling nerves in my stomach, and savoring the way his smile fucking widens.

Fuck, he’s so damn pretty.

“Maybe I like playing with my toys,” he grunts, his fingers sliding down from around the back of my neck, until they can close around my throat.

“Is that what I am to you? A toy you can use and fuck?” I boldly ask, desperate for him to disagree with me, but also desperate for him to do just that, yet his eyes only darken.

“What you are to me is a fucking affliction,” he purrs, leaning down to drag his mouth along my jaw and down my neck. “A fucking torment and torture, that I can’t escape from no matter how hard I try.” His teeth sink into the juncture of my throat, sucking hard and making me gasp, as he marks me once more, and all I do is tip my head back to grant him better access.

“Then maybe you should stop trying,” I breathe, his mouth both burning and branding, as I feel him smile against my skin.

Dragging his lips back up to mine, he kisses me roughly, before pulling back and fixing me with a glare. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he goads, squeezing my throat again, as he pushes me back towards his bathroom, slamming me against the door and kissing me once more. “Your lips are bruised from my kiss, your skin is marked by my teeth, your cock is hard against mine,” he emphasizes his points by pulling my bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard, as he rocks his own erection against mine. “I’m pretty sure I have stopped trying,” he teases, lapping at my swollen lip with his tongue, and fuck, do I want him to devour me.

Pushing him back, I hold his stare, as I reach over my head and pull off my sweater, tossing it to the floor and savoring the way his stare dances across my bare chest. My hands are steady as I undo my pants, shoving them down my legs with my boxers, until I am standing naked before him, and never have I felt more free. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, fully aware of the effect that working out and hockey has on it, and I’ve never shied away from the attention it brought me, but I’ve also never craved it. I’ve never stood before someone desperate for their touch, I’ve never yearned for their skin against mine, to feel them, to taste them, to be fucked by them. Yet as his eyes trail over every inch of bare skin on display, I feel like I might die if he doesn’t do something.

“So, I’m yours?” I ask quietly, erasing the distance between us again, and when his stare meets mine it’s filled with nothing but need, as he nods slowly. “Are you mine?” The question hangs in the air between us, and I see the moment he wants to run, the flash of panic across his stare that tells him to deny this, deny us, but he can’t, not anymore. Not when I am standing here naked, offering more to him than I ever have anyone else.

Instead, he stays silent as he guides me towards the shower, his stare still holding mine, and he leads me inside and turns on the water, until it rains down over us both. He’s still fully clothed in his shirt and shorts, and it’s only when the fabric begins to stick to his skin, that I realize he doesn’t want me to see his scars. A thought that has me reaching for him, pulling his soaked body against my own.

I want to tell him that whatever this is between us, that I’ve never felt this way before, but instead I say, “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” It’s still the truth, but one I know he can handle at this moment. “My cock is fucking aching for you, and has been since the moment I first saw you.”

My words have that sinful fucking smile tugging on the corners of his mouth again, as his fingers trace the designs of the tattoos of my chest. “Oh, I don’t know about that. From what I recall you were a bit occupied when I first saw you,” he smirks, his eyes meeting mine, and I swear I can almost see what he saw that night.

“I’m always occupied,” I reply quietly, bringing my hands to his hips and pulling him against me. “I’m always searching for something to make me feel a little less alone,” I admit for the first time to him. “My mom has David, my dad has Katrina, Rora and Ever have each other, and I know they all love me and I am lucky to have them, but there has always been a part of me that needs more.”

His face is serious now, as he brings his hand back to my throat, pressing his head against mine. “Hence all the women,” he muses, bringing his other hand to my cock, giving it a slow, yet lethal stroke.

“Yes,” I gasp, the word barely gritted through my teeth, as he watches me with rapt attention. “They were a distraction in the moments that I craved attention, and it worked, for a little while,” I add in a groan, flicking my stare down to watch the way his fist fucks up and down my length, wondering how I ever thought I didn’t want him this way.

“And what about now?” he asks, forcing my stare back to his as I blink away the water in my eyes. “Do you need a distraction from something, Archer? Is there something you crave?” He pushes, jerking me faster and tighter, until I feel like my knees might buckle beneath the weight of need I have for him.

“I’ve got you dripping wet in a shower, stroking my cock like it was made for you,” I pant, already desperate to come from just his hand on my dick, but still needing more. “Why the fuck would I need a distraction, when the person I have been craving for three fucking years is looking at me like he wants to rip me apart?”

His eyes only darken with my every word, as his hand begins to slow, and my own stare eats up the way the black fabric of his shirt is clinging to every ab. “And would you let me?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his tone now, that has goosebumps lining my skin, despite the heat of the shower raining down on top of me. “Would you let me rip you apart?” He adds, pressing his dripping wet lips to mine and sucking on them gently, as his hands move to my hips and he pulls me roughly against him. “Would you let me ruin you for anyone else?”

My heart is slamming against my ribcage so hard that I’m surprised he can’t feel it. However, my voice is steady, as I cup his face gently and reply, “You already have, Daemon.”

His kiss this time is chaotic, as if he is barely holding on to any shred of control, as his tongue stokes a fire against mine. My hands slide up his back, tugging at the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to get him closer to me, and when my nails dig into the broad expanse of his shoulders, he grunts into my mouth, kissing me even harder. Our hips thrust together frantically, and when his hands grab and knead my ass, I am fucking putty in his hands.

“Has anyone ever been here?” he asks, pulling away from my lips and attacking my jaw with his teeth and tongue, as one of his hands slides between my ass cheeks and starts probing gently.

“No,” I gasp, squirming beneath the unusual feeling, and I feel that fucking damned smirk against my skin again, before he drops to his knees and meets my stare.

“Oh, I really am about to ruin you for anyone else,” he purrs, before grabbing my hips and spinning me around. “Now, lean forward and put your hands on the tiles.”

Fuck. Me.