Puck Me Harder: A Stepbrother Romance [BL]

Micah’s POV

No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the vivid, raw memory of what Damon had done earlier today came rushing back with overwhelming clarity. I could still feel the shocking, feverish warmth of his hands gripping my thighs. I could still feel the filthy, possessive pressure of his mouth wrapped tightly around my dick, the wet slide of his lips, the sharp contrast between his aggressive dominance and the helpless, agonizing pleasure that had ripped through my spine.

A quiet, shamed gasp escaped my lips in the silence of my room. My face burned with a fiery blush. I gripped the edges of my desk, trying to shake the phantom sensation off my skin, but it lingered like a hot scar.

Damon was insane, volatile, and dangerous—yet the raw, humiliating memory of his mouth on me made my blood run hot, confusing my head even further.

"Focus, Micah... just fucking focus," I whispered to myself, digging my fingernails into my palms until the pain grounded me.

It took thirty agonizing minutes of relentless typing to finalize the article. Thanks to the dramatic, chaotic mess Damon had pulled earlier during school hours, I had more than enough scandalous material to craft a sharp, gripping piece for the campus paper. My fingers flew across the keys, polishing the paragraphs until the prose was tight and engaging.

With a final click, I attached the file and hit Send, firing the draft directly to Raven’s email inbox.

I slammed the laptop screen closed, the sharp snap echoing through the quiet room. I raised my arms high above my head, stretching my aching muscles until my back popped, letting out a long, weary groan.

I glanced at the glowing digital clock on my nightstand. It was already way past midnight.

A massive yawn stretched my mouth open, my jaw cracking from the exhaustion weighing down my bones. I dragged my heavy feet across the floor, crawling onto the soft mattress. I pulled my thick, oversized gray sweater down over my hands, gathered the heavy winter blankets, and threw them over my shivering legs.

I nestled my head deep into the pillow, staring out the dark window at the moonlit trees.

Just sleep, I pleaded with myself, my eyelids growing impossibly heavy. By the time I wake up tomorrow morning, maybe Father will have already packed his bags and headed back to his church. Maybe he’ll leave, and I won’t have to see his miserable, terrifying face again for another seven years.

It was a foolish, desperate wish born out of pure exhaustion, but I clung to it anyway as my mind finally gave out, drifting off into a deep, heavy slumber.

It hadn’t even been an hour since I closed my eyes.

A harsh, suffocating sensation suddenly slammed into my chest, dragging me out of sleep. My airways felt completely clamped shut. Something thick, toxic, and scalding hot was invading my nostrils, filling my mouth, and violently blocking my lungs every time I tried to draw a breath.

I groaned, my mind foggy as I lifted a weak hand from under the heavy sheets, trying to cover my nose and mouth. But the moment I stirred, the sensation grew worse. Air wouldn’t come. My throat seized, firing off a harsh, agonizing spasm.

I snapped my eyes wide open.

I expected to see the familiar, dark shadows of my bedroom, but I couldn’t see a single damn thing. Thick, pitch-black grey smoke was churning through the air like a living monster, blindingly dense and heavy.

Then, my gaze dropped to the floor, and my heart violently stopped.

Orange, roaring flames were licking up the wooden baseboards, crawling rapidly up the long velvet curtains near my window, and wrapping around the dry legs of my study desk. Fire was dancing at every single corner of my room.

I snapped into full panic, scrambling backward on my bed until my spine slammed hard against the wooden headboard.

"What the hell—! Cough! Cough!"

How the hell did this happen?!

A violent coughing fit tore through my chest, racking my body so hard my ribs ached. I waved my hands wildly in front of my face, desperately trying to fan the thick smoke away, but it did absolutely nothing. The toxic air burned my eyes like liquid acid, tears streaming down my flushed, soot-covered cheeks.

I scrambled off the mattress, my bare feet hitting the scorching floorboards. I stumbled forward, coughing until I choked, trying to reach the door.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A sudden, thunderous noise echoed from the hallway, rattling the frame of my bedroom door.

"Micah! Open the fucking door!" Noah’s voice screamed from the other side, his yells barely cutting through the loud, deafening roar of the blazing fire. "Micah! Get out of there! Open the door!"

I tried to reach the handle, but a massive wall of bright orange fire had completely engulfed the entryway. The wooden door was already blistering, the heat radiating off it so intensely that it felt like standing directly in front of an open furnace. The heat was making the skin on my face swell and blister, scorching the tiny hairs on my arms.

I couldn’t reach the handle. I couldn’t get close without walking straight into the inferno.

"Cough! Noah—! Cough!" I tried to scream his name, but no sound came out—just a pathetic, wheezing rasp.

My lungs were screaming for oxygen, but all I was inhaling was pure, poisonous carbon monoxide. The smoke blinded me completely, turning the entire room into a swirling, fiery blur of red, orange, and pitch black.

My knees gave out. The strength vanished from my muscles, and I crashed heavily onto the scorching rug, my chest heaving as I curled into a ball on the floor.

Fuck.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see.

A sickening, ironic thought flashed through my fading mind. I had just laid in this exact bed, making a silent prayer that I wouldn’t have to see my father tomorrow morning when I woke up... but I didn’t mean like this. I didn’t want to die. I was so young, so desperate to live, so close to finding a way out. I didn’t want to burn to death in this hellhole.

My vision began to narrow, dark black spots dancing across the blazing orange light of the room.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound of the door splintering echoed above the roar of the flames. Noah was throwing his full weight against it, desperately trying to kick the heavy wood down to get to me.

Noah... my mind whispered, a fragile, pathetic spark of hope flickering in my chest as the world began to spin out of control. He’s coming... He won’t let me die in here... right? He wouldn’t...

The heat slowly faded into a terrifying, icy numbness. My heavy eyelids slipped closed, and my mind plunged completely into the silent, suffocating blackness.