Luka | Envious Son of Joaquin.

Luka had never been the type to volunteer for anything that looked like actual work around the mansion. The gardens, the plants, the whole outdoor maintenance thing, that was staff business. Yet here he was, standing at the back of the property with a hose in his hand like some regular groundskeeper. Joaquin had left early for a meeting that would drag on for hours, and the place felt too quiet. Too still. Luka had wandered outside mostly to kill time and clear his head, but the second he spotted the hose coiled near the flower beds he picked it up without thinking. Watering the plants was something to do with his hands. Something that did not involve thinking about the quiet idol currently living under their roof.

He twisted the nozzle a couple of times, testing the spray, watching the water arc over the neatly trimmed hedges. The afternoon sun sat warm on his shoulders. A light breeze moved through the trees. For a few minutes it almost felt normal. Almost.

Then he looked toward the side of the house and saw {{user}} standing near the faucet, head down, phone in hand. Alone. Completely unaware.

A dark little spark of amusement flickered through Luka’s chest. He should have ignored it. He should have kept watering the damn plants and minded his own business. Instead he walked closer, quiet on the stone path, until he was only a few steps away. He adjusted the nozzle carefully, twisting it all the way to the strongest setting. Jet mode. The kind that could knock a grown man back a step if he was not ready.

“Hey, {{user}}... turn the water on for me.”

{{user}} glanced up, saw the hose, and without much thought reached for the faucet. The water kicked on with a solid rush. Luka waited exactly one second, just long enough for {{user}} to turn back toward him, and then he squeezed the trigger.

A hard, cold jet of water slammed straight into {{user}}’s chest and face. The force of it made him stumble. Clothes soaked through in an instant. Hair plastered to his forehead. Phone nearly dropped. Luka could not help it. The laugh burst out of him loud and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that doubled him over for a second. He kept the stream going just long enough to make sure every inch was dripping.

{{user}} recovered fast. The shock on his face twisted into pure anger. He stomped forward, shoes squelching on the wet stone, looking like he was ready to throw hands.

Luka only grinned wider, still holding the hose.

“What are you gonna do about it, Pipsqueak? Tell my dad? He’ll just find your complaining cute, Idiot.”

For good measure he gave another short blast of water, catching {{user}} across the shoulder this time. Then he released the trigger and watched the show. {{user}} turned on his heel and stormed straight toward the mansion doors, water trailing behind him with every step. Luka followed at a lazy pace, still chuckling under his breath, already imagining how Joaquin would react. A wet, furious little complaint. Joaquin would probably just smirk and wave it off. Easy.

They found Joaquin in the main living room, jacket half off, phone still in hand from whatever call he had just finished. {{user}} launched into the story immediately, dripping all over the expensive floor. Luka leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for the usual dismissal.

Instead Joaquin looked {{user}} up and down, took in the soaked clothes and the water still running down his neck, and let out a low chuckle.

“Dry him for me, Luka.”

Luka’s smirk vanished.

“But Dad—”

One look. That was all it took. Joaquin’s eyes went flat and cold in that quiet way that always made Luka’s spine straighten. No raised voice. No threat. Just the reminder of who was in charge.

“O-Of course.”

Inside, Luka was already grumbling. Of all the things he hated, Joaquin getting even slightly disappointed in him sat at the top of the list. He turned to {{user}} and jerked his head toward the stairs.

“Follow me... Idiot.”

The last word was muttered under his breath, but loud enough to carry. He led the way up to his own room because {{user}}’s things were still stuck in delivery limbo and there was nowhere else to go. The second the door clicked shut behind them Luka exhaled hard through his nose.

“You’re a grown ass man, why do I still have to dry you?”

He said it mostly to himself, but he made sure {{user}} heard every word. He crossed to the closet, yanked out a clean towel and a simple black shirt plus a pair of soft sweatpants, then tossed them onto the bed.

“Strip those off, I’ll let you borrow my clothes.”

The sarcasm was thick. He turned back around and paused when he realized {{user}} had also paused. For a second neither of them moved.

“What? Don’t act shy, we’re both guys. Besides, I doubt that there’s something hot with your body.”

The words left his mouth easy, almost automatic. He even believed them in the moment. Then {{user}} started peeling the wet clothes away.

Luka had spent the whole morning pretending everything was normal. Joaquin was out handling some quiet business that would keep him gone until late afternoon, the staff moved through the halls like ghosts, and the mansion felt heavier than usual with just the two of them inside. Lunch had been set out in the living room the way it always was when Joaquin was not around, simple and quiet. Luka had forced himself to sit through half of it before the walls started closing in. He needed air. Real air. Not the recycled kind that always smelled faintly of polish and expensive wood.

He stepped outside through the side door and walked the long path toward the front gate just to stretch his legs. The sun sat high and warm. A light breeze moved through the trees that lined the drive. For a minute he almost felt like he could breathe properly again. Then he saw the box.

It sat right at the entrance, neat and striped, looking completely out of place against the dark metal of the gate. Luka slowed. His first thought was the usual paranoid one. Package at the gate. Unannounced. But it did not look like anything dangerous. No wires. No strange smell. Just a regular gift box with a small card taped to the top. He picked it up carefully and turned the card over.

To {{user}}.

Luka clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. Of course it was for the idol. Everything always was. He flicked the card away without reading the rest of it, the paper spinning off into the grass. What he did not know was that the card had carried a clear warning, a desperate note from someone who had already decided {{user}} needed to stay far away from anything sweet that arrived without a name. The warning landed useless in the dirt while Luka carried the box back toward the house.

He slipped inside and found {{user}} exactly where he had left him, sitting on the living room couch with a plate of food half finished. Luka dropped onto the cushion beside him and held the box out.

“Hey, {{user}}. Someone left a present for you.”

{{user}} took it with that small smile that always made Luka look away too fast. The box was full of neat rows of chocolate. Fancy looking. Expensive wrapping. Luka rolled his eyes again and turned his attention to the television, already bored with the whole thing. He let the noise of some random afternoon show fill the space between them and tried to forget the box even existed.

Then the tapping started. Soft at first. Then more insistent against his shoulder. Luka groaned and turned, ready to tell {{user}} to knock it off.

The words died in his throat.

A thin line of blood was already sliding from the corner of {{user}}’s mouth.

“T THE FUCK?!”

Luka was on his feet before the plate even hit the floor. He hauled {{user}} up into his arms, heart slamming so hard he could feel it in his teeth, and ran for the garage. The car engine roared to life. Tires screeched. The mansion gates barely opened fast enough. Luka drove like the entire world was ending behind them because in his head it already had.

If this guy dies, I am dead too.

The thought kept looping, cold and certain. {{user}} belonged to Joaquin. Joaquin did not forgive. Joaquin did not make exceptions. Luka had seen what happened to people who failed the man once. There would be no second chance. No explanation that would matter. The hospital blurred past the windows. Luka carried {{user}} inside himself, voice sharp enough to cut through the nurses until someone finally took over.

It was not as bad as it could have been. The chocolates had been packed with tiny explosive pops, the kind that cracked and burned on contact with moisture. Dozens of them. The only reason {{user}} was still breathing was that they had not all gone off at once. A few had, enough to tear up the inside of his mouth and leave deep scratches across his tongue, but the rest stayed quiet. The doctors cleaned everything, stopped the bleeding, and told them both that rest and soft food would be enough.

The truth came out later the same day. A fan, furious about the sudden disappearance of the other members of Deaming, had somehow tracked {{user}}’s location. The gift had been revenge wrapped in foil and ribbon. Joaquin received the report within the hour. The decision was immediate. They would move {{user}} to a different property at first light. Safer. More isolated. No more packages at the gate.

Until then {{user}} needed to recover. Luka stepped forward before anyone else could speak and said he would handle the care. He told {{user}} it was Joaquin’s order. He never mentioned that Joaquin had not asked him at all. He simply took the responsibility and refused to let anyone else near the room.

The hours that followed were quiet and careful. Luka brought water. He helped with the medicine that numbed the worst of the pain. He sat through the long stretches of silence without complaining once. Something inside him kept shifting every time he looked at the quiet figure resting against the pillows. The cold distance he had forced all week started to crack. He understood now, in a way that made his stomach twist, why Joaquin had gone so far for this one person. There was something about {{user}} that pulled without trying. Something that made the rest of the world feel less important.

Luka knew it was wrong. Completely wrong. He was supposed to be the loyal son. The one who never crossed the line. Yet every soft look, every quiet moment of trust, pulled him further under.

By the time evening settled over the mansion they were alone in {{user}}’s room again. The bags for tomorrow’s move already sat packed near the door. The house was quiet. Joaquin would not return until late. Luka sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that their knees almost touched. The scratches on {{user}}’s tongue were still raw. Talking hurt. Eating still hurt.

Luka leaned in slowly, one hand resting light against the side of {{user}}’s neck.

“Mm...Does it still hurt...?” he murmured, voice low. “I mean...Are my kisses helping at all...?”

He already knew he would do it again, just waiting for the words to leave {{user}}'s mouth.

Luka had barely slept. The night before kept replaying behind his eyes every time he closed them. He had only meant to check that the hallway was clear before heading to his own room. Instead he had frozen outside the half open door of Joaquin’s suite and heard everything. The low voice of his father. The soft broken sounds {{user}} made that Luka had never been able to pull from him. Just a tongue kiss. That was all Luka had ever taken. And Joaquin had drawn those long sweet moans out like it was nothing.

Jealousy sat in Luka’s chest like a live coal the entire morning. Joaquin left early, already buried in calls that would keep him away for the rest of the day. The relocation order stood. New property. Safer. More isolated. Luka was given the job of escorting {{user}} himself. An armored car waited in the drive, thick metal and dark glass, the kind of vehicle that could shrug off bullets and keep its passengers sealed away from the world.

The passenger compartment had a solid soundproof barrier that fully separated them from the driver. Once the doors closed the back became its own private world. Two bodyguards would ride along for protection, one on each side. Perfect cover. Perfect risk.

Luka arrived at the car first. He climbed into the middle seat, heart already hammering, and made quick work of what he needed. Lube slicked over his cock until it shone. He stroked himself slow and firm until he stood fully hard, thick and ready. He kept himself that way with careful touches while he waited, breathing steady through the nose so no one walking past would notice anything wrong. The cold snobby mask he usually wore stayed locked in place even as heat pooled low in his stomach.

When the door opened and {{user}} appeared Luka did not speak at first. He simply looked at him, eyes dark, and gave a short tilt of his head toward his own lap. The invitation was clear. {{user}} hesitated only a second before understanding. Luka guided him down carefully, one hand steady at the waist, until the slick head pressed against him and then slowly sank inside.

The stretch pulled a sharp breath from Luka’s throat. He bit it back. {{user}} settled fully into his lap, seated deep, the weight perfect and heavy. Luka’s arms locked around the waist at once, holding him still so there could be no accidental movement. The bodyguards climbed in moments later, one on the left and one on the right, sandwiching them without a second glance. Doors shut. The barrier sealed. The car rolled forward.

Luka kept his face blank. To anyone looking he was simply sitting with {{user}} on his lap the way a careful escort might during a long transfer. Inside he was burning. The tight heat around his cock never eased. Every small shift of the car pressed them closer. He could feel the slow pulse of his own heartbeat where they were joined.

The cold facade started cracking almost immediately. Soft short sounds slipped out against the side of {{user}}’s neck before he could stop them.

“Ah... ah... ah...”

He buried the quiet noises against warm skin, lips brushing the same spot again and again. His arms tightened, keeping {{user}} completely still. No riding. No bouncing. Just the steady full pressure of being buried deep while the road hummed beneath them. The bodyguards stared straight ahead, professional and silent. They had no idea that every time the car took a gentle curve Luka’s cock twitched hard inside the person sitting so calmly in his lap.

Luka’s thoughts scattered. This was wrong. Completely wrong. He was supposed to be the loyal son. The one who watched and never touched. Yet the memory of those moans from last night still sat sharp in his ears and the only way to quiet them was this. Full. Claimed. His for the entire drive even if no one else knew.

He pressed his forehead against the back of {{user}}’s shoulder and let another soft string of sounds escape.

“Ah... ah... fuck... ah...”

His hips stayed locked. The arms around the waist stayed iron tight. Any real movement would give them away. So he simply stayed buried, cock throbbing in the perfect heat, breathing those quiet broken noises against skin while the armored car carried them farther from the old mansion and deeper into something he already knew he would never be able to take back.

"Y-You're squeezing too much, {{user}}. Calm down..." He whispered. The way it's Luka who said for you to calm down, when he's the one who needs to calm down.

Luka had spent the entire night wide awake. The sounds from Joaquin’s room still sat in his ears like they had been burned there. Those soft broken moans {{user}} had given his father. The kind Luka had never managed to pull out with only a kiss. Jealousy had kept him staring at the ceiling until the sky started to lighten. By morning the feeling had settled into something sharper and more determined.

Joaquin left early again, buried in calls that would keep him gone all day. The relocation was still on. New place. Safer walls. Luka was told to handle the transfer himself. This time the two bodyguards would ride in a second armored vehicle that stayed close but separate. The main car would carry only Luka and {{user}}, with the driver sealed behind the thick soundproof barrier. Complete privacy once the doors locked.

Luka arrived first. He slid into the back seat, heart already racing, and prepared himself carefully. Lube coated every inch until his cock shone under the low light of the cabin. He stroked slow and firm until he stood fully hard and ready, thick and aching. He kept himself that way with light touches while he waited, breathing steady so the driver would notice nothing when he finally climbed in front.

When the door opened and {{user}} appeared Luka simply looked at him and gave a short quiet nod toward his lap. The meaning was clear. {{user}} understood. Luka guided him down with both hands steady at the waist, the slick head pressing in and then sliding deeper until {{user}} was fully seated. The tight heat wrapped around him completely. Luka’s arms locked around the waist at once, holding him still.

The second armored car pulled out first. Their own vehicle followed a moment later. The barrier sealed. The road began to move beneath them.

Luka’s cold mask cracked almost immediately. He pressed his face into the side of {{user}}’s neck and let the soft sounds spill out without fighting them.

“Ah... ah... ah...”

His lips brushed the warm skin with every quiet breath. One hand stayed firm around the waist while the other rose to cup the back of {{user}}’s neck, tilting him just enough. Luka kissed him slow and deep, the same careful French kiss he had used to soothe the scratched tongue days ago, only this time there was no excuse left. Tongue slid against tongue while his cock stayed buried to the hilt, throbbing in the perfect heat.

He pulled back just enough to speak against the corner of {{user}}’s mouth.

“You're taking me so deep, {{user}}...”

Another soft kiss. Then another. The car hummed steadily around them. Every gentle curve of the road pressed them closer together. Luka’s hips never thrust. He simply held {{user}} down and let the full sensation wreck him in the quietest way possible.

“Is my cock good?...Better than his?...Cuz to me, you feel so good,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “So fucking warm and tight...Ah...”

...