The Bone Collector - The Watch #1 - Ch. 7 (Patreon)

Another long and unedited, unbeta'd chapter. Everything will return to normal this week with WIP chapters and mini-fics. Thank you for letting me take a brain break. 

Gift

“You girl-bossed too close to the sun.”

Gift glowered at Morgan, then made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “What does that even mean?”

“You unleashed the crazy too soon,” she clarified.

Had he? Maybe. But he was so tired of Park acting like some self-sacrificing martyr. He’d killed people. A lot of people. According to Payton, Park had a body count that made him infamous in the world of assassins. But being with Gift was somehow a step too far over the line?

Or maybe he just didn’t want him. Had Gift read it all wrong? He’d thought—hoped—that Park had just been ignoring his feelings for Gift but maybe there were no feelings at all and he was just…blackmailing him into kissing him. Ew. 

Was Gift some kind of…manipulator? Or worse. Was he like...harassing Park sexually? He shuddered at the notion.

“Morgan’s right,” Drake said from his bed, temporarily pulling Gift from his downward spiral.

He clenched his fingers around the toy in his hand—a lightsaber. A childish, but painfully expensive, toy given to him by his mother during their last very brief visit. His mother who knew so little about him, she still thought he was obsessed with a movie franchise he’d loved when he was twelve.

It somehow seemed right to hold it in his hand while lamenting about Park. Someone else who clearly knew nothing about him. Apparently by choice. Gift spun the toy in his hand, twirling it behind his back, letting it go before catching it in his other palm, then repeating the motion. It was a good toy for fidgeting. And right now, Gift was having a hard time standing still.

“It’s a rookie mistake,” Dove said, around a sigh.

“But he kissed you, so there’s that,” Morgan added with a shrug.

Dove nodded, sitting cross-legged on Gift’s bed, weaving sections of Morgan’s hair into a complicated braid that made the already intimidating girl look like some kind of female warrior.

The kiss. Gift’s fingers clenched around the handle of the toy at the thought. Park had been so soft with him. Kissing him had felt like all his atoms had rearranged themselves to fit with Park’s, his warm lips sliding over Gift’s. His tongue was so soft, but so demanding. 

But then it changed.

Then Park was gripping him hard enough to bruise, teeth biting down on his plump lower lip, their breaths so loud in the quiet of the room. That kiss--that moment--had been something else altogether. Something…evolutionary. Animalistic almost. Like Park had wanted to claim him somehow.

Gift’s free hand rose to his lips, then falling with Drake snickered at him. “Damn, what did that man do to you in the common room?”

Gift spared him a glance, rolling his eyes when he noted he was shirtless. He really was an attention whore.

Finally, his attention fell to Payton, who lay reclined on his bed, phone in hand, playing a game. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Gift asked, voice one decibel from a whine.

Payton flicked his gaze towards him, then sighed, setting his phone on the side table. ”What is there to say? You’ve already got him on the ropes and its only day two. Seems like he’s just been looking for an excuse to get you naked. At this rate you could have him punching your v-card by the weekend.”

Gift’s hand stuttered at the thought, almost dropping the heavy toy in his hand. The idea of Park inside him was almost too delicious to bear in mixed company. He’d spent so many nights fantasizing about what that would be like that having it within reach made him dizzy.

“If you’re gonna do that, doll face, can you at least turn the light off? I’m starting to feel like I’m at a rave,” Dove asked, pointing to the lightsaber in his hand.

Gift looked at it like he’d never seen it before, then sighed, switching it off and returning it to the closet, before crawling into bed with Payton, assuming the little spoon position. He needed to be squeezed, just a little bit. Knowing him in bed with Payton would likely give Park an aneurysm was just a bonus.

“You don’t think I ruined everything?” Gift asked.

“Are you kidding?” Payton asked, the humor in his voice obvious. “He said he’d give you a single kiss and then mauled you. Have you seen the hickeys on your neck? You still have the upper hand here.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said. “Some guys like crazy.”

Drake snorted, reaching for his phone when it vibrated. “You’d know.”

She gave him a hard once over, then turned up her nose. “You wish,” she said dismissively.

Drake fixed her with a flat stare. “No, I don’t. I like my conquests less crazy and more…” he trailed off, as if searching for the word.

“Docile?” Gift supplied.

Dove nodded. “Gullible?”

“Willing to take scraps?” Payton asked.

“You guys are all just haters,” Drake said, stretching his big body until his feet hung off the edge, eyes returning to his phone screen.

Dove frowned. “Speaking of gullible whipping boys, where’s Remi tonight? Doing your homework? Baking you brownies? Flogging himself in adulation?”

Morgan frowned. “Yeah, usually, he’s your shadow. Did he finally come to his senses and realize he’s way too good for the likes of you?” 

Drake snorted. “Nobody is too good for me.” When they all just continued to stare, he rolled his eyes, exasperated. “I gave him the night off. He went out with the other handlers.”

“Oh, interesting,” Payton said, tone implying he had dirt.

Gift let his eyes close, his body absorbing Payton’s warmth like he was lying in the sun. “Why’s that?” he asked, never wanting to miss an opportunity to mess with Drake.

Payton chuckled just behind Gift’s ear, sending little shivers along his skin. Park’s lips had been there just a few minutes ago. Gift’s lower body stirred and he was grateful he was the little spoon so Payton couldn’t see how embarrassingly hard he got with even the slightest thought of Park.

“Because Navy has been salivating over Remi for months. She’s just been looking for an opportunity. Seems like tonight's the night. Your servant might find a new mistress. One that actually treats him well.”

Gift tried to picture Navy, but failed. There were so many people at the school and Gift rarely socialized outside his pod. Park wouldn’t allow it.

Still Gift saw an opportunity to annoy Drake. “Do you think she’s trying to punch Remi’s v-card?”

Drake scoffed. “Remi’s card has been thoroughly punched,” he assured them, tone droll.

“You’re gross,” Dove said.

“Also you’re lying,” Morgan added, tone knowing. “He might not be a virgin, but you definitely haven’t fucked him.”

Drake raised a brow. “Why do you say that?” 

Morgan shrugged, tone smug. “Because he’s still following you around like an adoring fan. Once he sees who you really are, he’ll run screaming in the opposite direction.”

“Who I really am?” Drake muttered, irritation creeping into his tone.

“Mm,” Dove said.

“And who am I, really?” Drake asked, trying and failing to sound uninterested.

“A narcissistic fuckboy who uses people…to his own detriment,” she told him, not even looking up from Morgan’s hair. “You’ll bail once you’ve gotten your dick wet. Your type always does.”

“But at least when it happens, they’ll take Remi away from you,” Morgan said.

Gift didn’t miss the almost startled look Drake gave the girl, before that mask of indifference returned. “Nobody’s taking anything away from me. They can have him when I’m done with him.”

Morgan snickered. “Sure.”

Drake returned his gaze back to his phone, muttering, “What kind of dumbass name is Navy, anyway?”

Gift turned onto his back, playing with Payton’s fingers now splayed across his stomach. “Do you think I’m misreading things?”

“What do you mean, baby?” Payton asked in that tone he saved just for Gift.

“Am I…taking away his bodily autonomy? That’s how you say it right? Am I…harassing him?”

Payton studied him for a long moment. “Are you being serious right now?”

Gift nodded. “Maybe he’s not really into me. Maybe he’s just doing this because I told him if he didn’t, I’d do it with you.”

“If he wasn’t into you, why would he care if you did it with Payton?” Dove asked, securing Morgan’s hair with a huge pink scrunchie.

“Because he’s my mother’s best friend and thinks he’s under some kind of obligation to protect me?” Gift said, heart sinking.

More and more that seemed like a real possibility. Maybe Gift really had misread the whole situation. Or maybe he hadn’t even tried. Maybe he was the selfish one, only thinking about what he wanted and not Park.

Dove sat her plump ass on the bed beside Gift, forcing him to scoot over so she could lie on the tiny bed, squishing him between the two of them. “Sweetie, he’s a school admin. He could send you home. Expel you. Expel Payton.”

“Meaning?” Gift asked.

“Meaning…” Dove drew the word out. “I don’t think your mom would be grateful that Park’s solution to keeping you from fucking Payton was to fuck you instead. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would think you losing your virginity to her best friend was far worse than you losing your virginity to pretty much anyone else on the planet. Hell, even Drake.”

Drake gave her the finger, not even looking up from his phone.

Morgan rose and crossed the short distance to the bed, then fell on top of the three of them, causing them all to groan. “This is nice,” she said, voice dreamy. “Like a heating pad.”

“You are heavier than you look,” Payton lamented.

“Deal with it,” Morgan said, wiggling as if to get comfortable.

“What do I do now?” Gift asked, sorrow tightening his chest.

“Stay the course,” Payton said.

Gift frowned, dodging Morgan’s elbow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning do the things you always do. You have dinner every night together. Just…go have dinner.”

“I told him to stay away from me,” Gift managed, voice raw.

“It’s your right to change your mind. If you really want to fuck with his head, show up for dinner tonight like nothing happened, all those hickeys on full display. It will drive him crazy.”

Gift flushed. Park had marked him. That shouldn’t have been hot. It should have felt barbaric and weirdly territorial but it stirred this deep throbbing ache in Gift’s core.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that,” he said. Before repeating stronger. “I can do this.”

Maybe if he said it enough even he might believe it.

"I have an idea that might help...." Payton said, tone smug.

###

Gift stood outside Park’s door for far too long, trying to build up the courage to just do it. He ate dinner with him every night. He would be expecting him. No? With one final deep breath, he raised his hand. His knock sounded hesitant to his own ears, and when Park yanked the door open, he appeared surprised to see Gift standing there.

Gift was surprised too. Not to be there, but at Park’s appearance. He stood barefoot, in soft gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt that clung to well-defined biceps in a way that made Gift remember how Park's arms had caged him in on that desk just hours earlier while his tongue had explored Gift’s mouth. Gift shivered at the memory.

Park’s hair was damp and messy and starting to curl into the natural waves he wrestled into submission each morning with gel. He wore his glasses, the gold framed ones that should have made him look nerdy, but really just made him look soft and cozy. It made him look like a boyfriend. Like he could be Gift’s boyfriend. His mouth went dry at the thought.

Gift never saw him like this anymore now that they no longer shared Park’s home. Something about that stabbed at his insides, knife sharp and indecipherable. Not loss. They’d never really been close. Longing maybe? A longing for a life they could have had if not for this school, if not for Gift’s age, and Park’s friendship with his mother.

There was an intimacy to sharing a space with a person day in and day out, navigating around each other each morning and every night. Sharing a bathroom, brushing up against each other in the hallway, catching glimpses of each other in nothing but a towel, still damp from a shower.

It had created this false narrative in Gift’s head, one where he and Park had meant more to each other than they did, where Gift meant more to Park than he did. Gift knew what toothpaste park used, the shampoo he liked, the deoderant he preferred. He even knew he lined his colognes up from most to least favorite, but still rotated them out based on some arbitrary system known just to him.

Gift blinked at him, then took a step back. “Are we not having dinner?” he asked in Thai, his nerves stealing his ability to converse in his second language.

Gift had finally gotten a taste of that intimacy he’d craved for so long, but Park felt further away than ever. He was inches from him in proximity, but miles from him feelings wise. Still, as awkward as it was between them, he couldn’t ignore the effect Park had on him, this low simmer deep in his core, this throbbing want that seemed to catch and grow whenever he was in Park’s presence, especially now that Gift knew the softness of Park’s tongue against his.

Park frowned. “You said…” he trailed off, examining Gift’s face for a moment before seemingly shaking himself out of it. “Of course, Kla. Come in. I haven’t cooked anything, but I’m sure I can whip something up.”

Gift swallowed hard. Maybe this had been a bad idea. The tension between them felt electric—like static—causing the hairs on his arms to raise, the almost magnetic pull making him want to close the distance between them.

This had been a bad idea.

“I can-I can just go,” Gift said, heat flooding his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous, ouen,” Park murmured, large hand wrapping around Gift’s bare bicep, pulling him inside before letting go like he’d been burned. Gift fought the urge to rub the spot where Park had touched him. He really was such a virgin.

Park shut the door, but didn’t step away. Instead, he planted his hand on the door frame overhead, taking in Gift from head to toe, so close Gift could smell the spicy bergamot of his soap. It took every ounce of strength he had not to take a step forward and bury his face in Park’s neck, inhaling him like a drug.

“You look…comfortable.”

Gift blushed to the tips of his ears. At Payton’s request, Gift had also forsaken his usual school uniform for more casual clothes. But not just any casual clothes. He wore Payton’s black joggers that hugged his narrow waist and rounded ass and a sleeveless white graphic tee emblazoned with the Givenchy logo. Park’s t-shirt. One he’d let Gift sleep in the night he’d first arrived at his apartment with his mother, before she’d forwarded his stuff. A t-shirt Gift slept in embarrassingly often.

Gift lifted his head to meet Park’s gaze, resting his head against the door. For a moment they just stood there, breathing in each other's air. Gift’s heart was pounding so loudly, he was sure Park had to hear it. He swallowed as Park raised his hand, his finger hooking into the arm hole of his shirt and tugging it away from his skin, voice raw when he said, “That’s where this shirt went. Little thief.”

“You gave it to me,” Gift said, breathless.

Park’s lips twitched in an aborted smile, his gaze flicking from where he held Gift’s shirt to pin him against the wall with his sharpened gaze. “Did I? Or did I let you borrow it and you just never returned it?”

“I…” Gift couldn’t finish his sentence. The finger tucked beneath the fabric was now lazily stroking the skin just beneath, stealing Gift’s ability to think.

“You…” Park murmured, taking a step closer.

What was happening here.

“I…like it. It smells like you.”

Park’s eyes widened, his pupils so dilated they were just dark pools. His hand fisted in the fabric. “Surely, it still can't smell like me. Not after all this time?”

Gift sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. How did he tell Park he never washed the shirt? That it sat in his drawer and he mostly just pulled it out to press against his nose when he was horny and desperate? That it only really made an appearance on the rare occasions he had any privacy to jerk off.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

It didn’t matter anyway. Park had clearly made the decision for him, dragging him closer by the fabric fisted in his hand and dipping his head to press his nose to the center of Gift’s chest, inhaling deeply while Gift just stood there, trembling, his dick already starting to take notice of the proceedings.

Gift let himself bury his nose against Park’s damp hair, inhaling the fragrance. It was only fair, right? If Park could sniff him, he could sniff back. Could Park see how turned on he was? Could he feel him shaking? Hear the rapid breaths as he fought to pull air into his lungs?

“It does smell like me,” Park said, his voice low and rumbly in a way Gift had never heard before. “You smell like me.”

Before Gift could ask if that was a good thing, Park’s nose was nuzzling along his throat to just behind his ear, taking a step forward and crowding him up against the door until their hips aligned, the heat of Park’s body warming Gift to his core and making him feel small and safe and so very turned on.

Gift stood frozen as Park continued his exploration, his hands dropping to tighten around his waist, his nose trailing against his skin in a way that set fire to his insides. What was happening? All this from a t-shirt? Gift was going to send Payton a cookie basket. When soft lips pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin just behind Gift’s left year, he couldn’t stop the low whine that left his lips.

Park stumbled back like Gift had shot him, shaking his head as if to clear it, then turning and walking away like none of that had just happened. Gift stood there, trying to pull himself together. Finally, he slipped his shoes off and slid on the slippers beside them, hurrying to where Park stood in the living room.

“This might take a minute," he mumbled. "You can hang out and watch tv for a bit,” Park said, gesturing towards the sofa as he made his way towards the kitchen.

Gift’s stomach clenched. He didn’t want to be that far from him. “Can’t I help?”

Gift didn’t want to be dismissed, relegated to the sofa to play on his phone. Not after what just happened. He was too unsettled. Just seconds ago, Park was this warm presence pressing him to the wall and scenting him like a fucking werewolf and now he was acting as if the whole thing never happened. It was dizzying.

“Do you know how to cook, Kla?” Park asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Gift shrugged. “I can make ramen…” He flushed. “Well, I can make instant ramen.”

Park chuckled, sounding almost…fond. “I don’t think it’s come down to instant ramen just yet. I’m sure I can whip up something.”

When they entered the kitchen, Gift realized just how tight the space was. “What can I do?”

Park turned, almost bumping directly into him. His eyes widened in surprise at his proximity, his hands going to Gift’s hips to keep himself from stumbling. “You…” he said, looking around, before settling on something. “Can sit right here. Out of the way.”

Before Gift could even guess what Park had in mind, he lifted Gift up, hands tight around his hips, squeezing in a way that made him lightheaded, then deposited him on the counter before turning to open the fridge.

Gift sat frozen, hips tingling where Park’s fingers had dug in. What would it feel like with Park gripping him like that while he was inside him, pounding away at him, making him take whatever he gave? The thought had his cock twitching in pants that hid nothing. His hands curled into fists and he couldn’t stop the raw sound that escaped.

Park turned to him, frowning. “You okay, Kla?”

Gift needed to get it together. He’d been reading too much spicy fanfiction lately.

Gift cleared his throat. “My mouth’s a little dry, hia.”

Park narrowed his gaze at him, searching his face for so long Gift started to wonder if he could read minds, then reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, cracking the top before handing it to him. “Here. Drink this.”

Gift took the bottle, downing it in four gulps. Park’s eyes widened, and Gift’s pulse tripped when he realized his gaze was on Gift’s throat. When he finished, he wiped at the drops of water rolling down his chin. Park gaped at him, before seeming to catch himself, spinning on his heel and looking into the depths of the fridge once more.

“Are you okay with pasta?” Park finally asked.

He nodded. “Anything’s fine, really.”

Gift watched Park as he moved so confidently around the kitchen, first pulling the ingredients, then the pots and pans he’d need. They didn’t really speak, but sometimes Park would step right up to him, brushing against him so he could reach for something behind him or in the cabinet above his head and each time it happened, Park would make eye contact, giving him the barest of smiles, hand trailing over his thigh or resting on his knee for the briefest of moments. It was like some new form of erotic torture, being edged via domesticity.

When Gift couldn’t stand the cozy silence any longer, he asked, “Where did you learn to cook?”

Park looked up from where he stirred spinach into a creamy base sauce. “Here and there,” he said with a shrug. “I find it relaxing.”

His answers were always so vague. “Your mom didn’t teach you?”

Park spared him a glance and a sad, fleeting smile as he settled the pasta into boiling water. “My mom died when I was really young.”

Gift’s heart clenched. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you?” Park said, reaching out and squeezing his knee.

Oh, yeah. Right. They weren’t friends. Park was just doing his mom a favor. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he’d misread this whole thing. “I don’t know. Just seems like something I should know about you,” Gift managed lamely.

He and his mother didn’t get along but the thought of her not being a phone call away left him feeling adrift. She didn’t understand him. She had never really even tried, but if she no longer existed, Gift wasn’t sure what he’d do.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Park snorted. “No.”

Gift’s eyes widened at the hostility in his voice. “Oh.”

Park glanced over at him. “Sorry, ouen. That wasn’t aimed at you.”

Gift nodded, but remained silent for the rest of the meal prep. Once they were seated at the table, awkwardly eating in silence once again, Gift truly started to wonder if this was all there ever would be between them. Would Park ever open up to him? Gift didn’t know how to get him to let him in.

How had Payton gotten Gift to open up to him so quickly? He racked his brain trying to remember, then snickered as it came rushing back to him. Your dad is smoking hot. That was the first thing Payton had ever said to him. Sitting on a gym mat while Archer had introduced Park to the rest of the pod. He hadn't even been offended that Payton had mistaken Park for his dad.

At Gift’s snort of laughter, Park looked up, brow raised. Gift shook his head. “Nothing.”

Park gave a single nod then reached for his wine glass.

Gift just needed to shock him into talking, just like Payton had. What could Gift ask that would shock an assassin?

A slow smile spread across his lips as the perfect question popped into his head. He leaned in, elbow resting on the table, chin resting on his palm, waiting until Park’s gaze met his to ask, “Have you ever fucked a virgin, hia?”

Park inhaled, then choked hard enough to send a fine mist of red wine into the air like some kind of bioweapon. Gift handed him his napkin, waiting patiently for him to regain his ability to breathe.

“Jesus, Kla,” Park said, voice raw from inhaling alcohol.

Gift shrugged, giving Park his widest most innocent eyes. "What?"

“We’re not talking about that,” Park managed, picking up his fork and attacking his pasta like it was the enemy.

“We’re not talking about anything,” Gift pointed out. “When you won’t talk to me, my mind wanders to more…inappropriate topics. You never tell me anything about yourself.”

Park narrowed his eyes at him, studying him closely. “What would you like to know, Gift?”

So many things. “How did you end up an assassin? Why does most of the world think you write speeches for the ambassador of Thailand?”

Park ate the pasta on his fork, chewing for so long Gift started to wonder if he was ignoring the question. Finally, he said, “People think I write speeches for the Thai ambassador because I do. That’s the whole point of a deep cover operative. Nobody suspects that the mild mannered number cruncher or nerdy speech writer is actually killing heads of state or neutralizing foreign threats.”

Gift nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Did you kill people before you became an assassin…like officially?”

Park raised a brow. “I was in the military. It’s part of my job.”

Gift took a sip of his own wine, savoring the flavor before nodding. “Did my mom kill people? Does she…still kill people?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that,” Park said.

Gift gave a stilted nod. “Do you like killing people?”Park’s expression became brooding. :We could go back to talking about sex," Gift threatened. 

Park sighed. “I don’t think about it one way or another. It’s a job. It has to be done. I’m good at it.”

“Do you ever feel bad? Like even monsters have families.”

Park's gaze met his, voice terse. “There are no innocents in this game we’re playing, ouen. We know going in that there’s a good chance we’ll die. Being an operative sounds cool on paper, but the retirement plan is a coffin and a fabricated eulogy.”

Gift nodded. “So why do you do it?”

Park seemed to think about it as he took another sip of wine. “I’m the perfect person to do it.”

Gift frowned. “Why’s that?”

Park shrugged, his honey brown eyes meeting Gift’s. “Because when I die, nobody will miss me.”

Gift’s breath punched from his lungs at Park’s words, tears instantly pricking at his eyes. “I’d miss you, hia." He breathed. "I would miss you so much.”

“Kla…” Park said, seemingly flustered, pushing his chair back from the table like he meant to run.

Before Gift could second guess himself, he stood, moving around to where Park sat, throwing a leg over Park, before crashing down into his lap.

“What are you doing?” Park rasped, even as his hands found Gift’s waist.

“I don’t know,” Gift said honestly. “Will you kiss me again?”

“GIft,” Park said, his voice a warning.

Gift slid his hands up Park’s chest, reveling in the feel of hard muscle beneath the thin fabric. He didn't want Park to refuse him. Couldn't bear to hear it one more time. He heard himself beg, “Na, P’”

It was just one word. Please…

Gift didn’t even know what he was asking for but Park groaned, his hands rising to cup Gift’s face, dragging him closer so he could slot their mouths together, licking his way inside without hesitation.

After a moment, he broke away to say, “You are making me fucking crazy, ouen.”

“Then stop fighting this,” Gift begged against his lips. “Stop fighting me.”