Reckoning

Morning light sliced through the half-closed blinds of Lucas’s apartment, striping the tangled sheets. Damien woke first, chest tight, arm still slung possessively over Lucas’s waist. For one quiet moment it felt almost normal until his phone started vibrating nonstop on the nightstand.

He silenced it, but the damage was already done.

The screen lit up with alerts.

Anastasia Brooke’s Devastating Statement Rocks Voss Empire

“Fifteen Years of Lies” – Brooke Heiress Releases New Evidence

Voss Stocks Plunge 11% on Scandal

Damien closed his eyes. The half-finished portrait stared at him from across the room, his own painted eyes watching judgmentally.

Lucas stirred beside him. “You should go,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep and everything they’d done the night before. “Before someone sees your car outside.”

“I’m not leaving.” Damien rolled over him, pinning Lucas’s wrists gently to the mattress. The position was familiar now, comforting in its intimacy. “Not yet.”

Lucas’s breath hitched as Damien’s mouth found his throat, sucking a fresh mark below the collarbone. “Damien…”

“I need this,” Damien whispered against his skin. “Need you, Remind me why I’m burning it all down.”

What started slow quickly turned hungry. Lucas arched up, legs wrapping around Damien’s hips as they ground together, already hard again.

But this time Lucas reached for the Lube on the bedside table… smearing it around Damien’s asshole.

“Do you really want this?”

“Yes, fuck me” Damien groaned.

And ever so gently Lucas teased him, slapping his cock on his ass checks, and in one swift moment slipped into him… “uhhh” Damien groaned to the stinging pain.

Lucas could feel his tight asshole wrapped around his cock, his virgin ass and he was claiming it…

“Fuck you feel so good”.

The slap sounds continue as they move in sync as the world fades around them..

Long strokes that dragged moans from both of them, as Lucas Stroked Damien thumb teasing the head of his massive cock.

“I’m bout to cum” yes yes

Lucas shattered first spilling his cream into Damien,

Seconds later Damien released as they both slammed into the bed, breathing into each other.

Reality returned too quickly.

Damien’s driver texted him a warning: his father had called an emergency board meeting. No option to skip. Damien showered quickly, borrowed a clean shirt that was too tight across his shoulders, and kissed Lucas hard before leaving.

“I’ll fix this,” he promised.

Lucas only nodded, doubt clear in his eyes.

The boardroom was a war zone.

Damien’s father sat at the head of the table like a king dethroned, face flushed with rage. Three senior board members flanked him. Victor Brooke’s empty chair glared accusingly from the other side.

“You’re late,” his father snapped. “While you were off playing house, we lost another twelve percent. Partners are pulling out. The Japanese consortium just emailed they’re reconsidering the entire merger.”

One of the directors slid a tablet across the table. The screen showed Anastasia’s statement and the new photo of the unfinished portrait. “This is the image the markets are trading on now. Not business. Not strategy. Your indiscretion.”

Damien stood tall, jaw tight. “It wasn’t an indiscretion. It’s my life.”

“Your life?” His father laughed bitterly. “Your life belongs to this family. To this company. Or it did, until you chose a goddamn Man over everything we built.”

The homophobic edge from yesterday was still there, sharper now. “Clean this up, Damien. Public apology. Reconciliation with Anastasia hell, beg if you have to. Or we’ll remove you. Severance package. Nothing more.”

Damien looked around the table. Some faces showed discomfort. Others, calculation. No allies.

“I won’t apologize for loving him,” he said quietly. “And I won’t beg Anastasia for something I never felt.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

His father’s voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Then get out. Effective immediately, you’re suspended. Security will escort you from the building. And if that boy costs us one more deal, I’ll make sure his career is ash.”

Lucas was at his gallery when the call came his biggest solo exhibition, postponed indefinitely. “Reputational risk,” the director had said, not meeting his eyes. Three other commissions canceled by the time he reached his studio.

He was staring at blank canvases when Damien appeared in the doorway, tie loosened, eyes stormy.

“They suspended me,” Damien said without preamble. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled Lucas into a fierce kiss, backing him against the worktable. Paint tubes and brushes clattered to the floor.

“Here?” Lucas gasped, even as he tugged Damien’s belt open.

“No cameras. No staff this late.” Damien dropped to his knees, freeing Lucas’s cock and swallowing him down in one smooth motion. The blowjob was filthy and devoted wet sounds echoing in the empty gallery space. Lucas gripped the edge of the table, hips canting forward, moaning openly.

When he couldn’t wait any longer, Lucas hauled Damien up, spun him around, and bent him over the table. He slicked himself hastily and pushed inside, fucking Damien with deep, punishing strokes while stroking his cock.

“You’re mine,” Lucas growled against his ear. “Even if this destroys us both.”

Damien came hard across the table, painting and sweat mixing on the surface. Lucas followed, filling him with a low groan.

They stayed like that, Damien’s cheek pressed to the cool wood, Lucas draped over his back.

“I don’t regret you,” Damien whispered. “Not for a second.”

Lucas kissed the nape of his neck. “Then we fight. Together.”

But outside the gallery, Victor Brooke’s car idled at the curb. A thick envelope waited in the passenger seat another offer for Lucas, this one with a much higher number and a very clear warning.

The war was far from over.