Puck Me Harder: A Stepbrother Romance [BL]

Micah’s POV

Damon wasn’t into men? He was just... into me?

The words echoed in my mind, sending a violent shockwave straight to my core. Was he completely out of his mind? How could he casually drop a bomb like that right in front of Noah? My chest was hammering so hard it felt like a trapped bird trying to break through my ribs... or maybe it was Damon’s chest vibrating against my cheek. I couldn’t even tell anymore.

Deep beneath the sheer terror of being caught, a sudden, terrifying surge of happiness bloomed in my stomach. Did Damon actually mean it? Did he really like me? Or was this just another one of his sick games to keep me hidden and completely mess with my brother’s head?

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing closer to his warmth. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered right now was that Noah must not discover I was here.

"Well, congratulations to you and your... mysterious little boyfriend," the blonde girl sniffed, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. She tightly wrapped her fingers around Noah’s arm, pulling him toward the mansion’s grand staircase. "Come on, Noah darling. Let’s just go up to room four."

"Room four?" Damon tilted his head, a wicked grin cutting across his face as he stared Noah dead in the eyes. "Are you absolutely sure a strict pastor’s son like you should be fornicating in a place like this, captain? I distinctly recall your holy book having a few choice words about that."

Her jaw clenched. "We’re not fornicating. We’re just having fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Fun," Damon mocked, lazily gesturing toward the stairs with a tilt of his chin. "Go on then. Go have your fun."

The girl scowled, instantly spinning on her heel and marching away. But when she realized Noah wasn’t immediately following her, she paused on the first step, looking back over her shoulder with an impatient pout. "Noah, come on!"

Noah didn’t move. A heavy, suffocating weight settled over the patio as I heard footsteps approaching right behind us. I held my breath, paralyzing fear locking my limbs as his shadow fell over us. Damon kept his large hand firmly over the back of my head, shielding my face perfectly, but Noah leaned in incredibly close to Damon’s shoulder anyway.

"If that person in your arms is indeed Micah," Noah whispered, his voice dangerously low, a dark promise vibrating in his throat, "you better make absolutely sure he doesn’t drink a drop of anything tonight. Or else... he will completely crash this party."

With that final threat, his presence vanished, and his heavy footsteps finally retreated up the stairs.

My mind raced in pure confusion. What the hell did he mean by that? Crash what party?

"Is... is he finally gone?" I whispered against Damon’s chest, my voice trembling.

"Hmm," Damon hummed softly, his grip remaining tight around my waist. "Not yet, darling."

I frowned, a sudden wave of suspicion hitting me. "Are you lying to me?"

Damon pulled back just enough to look down at me, a shameless, completely unbothered smile stretching across his lips. "Yes."

"You shameless bastard!" I gasped, violently shoving my hands against his chest to pull my fiercely flushed body away from him.

I staggered back a step, quickly looking around the crowded patio to ensure Noah had truly vanished up the stairs before I let out a shaky breath.

Damon’s smile faded into a stare. "What the hell did that prick mean by telling me not to let you drink?"

"I don’t know..." I replied, defensively crossing my arms as a sudden, uneasy chill washed over me. Shaking my head, I muttered, "Just like I told you... the first time I tried sneaking a drink from my father’s bottle, I completely blacked out. I woke up the next morning and didn’t remember a single thing."

"You didn’t remember... anything?" Damon asked, his dark eyes narrowing into a calculating gaze.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked down to the red plastic cup still clutched in my trembling hand. Realization seemed to dawn on him all at once. He snatched the cup from my grip, lifting it up to look inside.

"God, Micah," Damon hissed, his voice suddenly laced with genuine panic. "Tell me you didn’t just drink half of this."

I pressed my lips into a thin, guilty line, stubbornly looking away from his intense gaze.

"Fuck," Damon swore under his breath, tossing the cup into a nearby trash can. "Maybe we should get you a room upstairs, too."

"I’m fine," I lied, waving a hand dismissively as I tried to take a step forward. "It was literally just one big sip."

"And the day you completely blacked out," Damon countered, stepping into my space and grabbing my shoulders, "didn’t you also take just ’one’ sip?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. The sudden, terrifying realization began to dawn on me. What if my body couldn’t process alcohol at all? What if my "blackouts" weren’t just sleep?

Before I could form a thought, a violent wave of dizziness crashed over me. The entire patio tilted sharply. The flashing neon lights smeared into sickening streaks of color, and the heavy bass of the music began to distort, sounding miles away. My knees buckled completely.

I staggered forward, but before I could hit the hard stone floor, Damon caught me. He fluidly swept me up into his arms, lifting me securely against his chest with his hand supporting the back of my knees.

"Let’s get you upstairs before you drop," he muttered.

I didn’t even argue. I was too exhausted, too completely overwhelmed by the sudden, heavy fog rolling through my brain. I weakly wrapped my arms around his neck, letting my forehead rest against his shoulder, comforting myself with the thought that if I could just sleep for a little while, I would be completely fine. I wasn’t violently drunk... just a little tipsy. Nothing bad was going to happen.

I shut my eyes as Damon carried me up the back staircase, the ambient noise of the party slowly fading into a muffled hum. I felt the sudden shift in temperature as he walked into a cool, air-conditioned guest bedroom and gently placed me down on the mattress.

The darkness of sleep pulled at me, and I let myself sink into it.

Sleep? Darkness?

My eyes abruptly snapped open. A gasp caught in my throat as my senses violently rushed back all at once.

I was sitting completely upright. My legs were straddled widely over a pair of muscular thighs, my weight firmly planted directly on top of Damon’s lap as he lay flat on his back on the bed. My hands were gripping his bare chest, and his dark eyes were staring up at me with a mixture of dark amusement and absolute shock.

Panic seized my chest. I thought I had just closed my eyes to sleep. What the hell had happened? How much time had passed, and why on earth was I in this position?