By the time we get back, the combination of rain and the late hour has driven the remaining cook-out attendants inside, allowing Luke and me to sneak into his apartment above the garage without anyone even noticing.

I'm glad for that, not only because I might not be able to hold myself back from verbally lashing out at anyone besides Luke right now. But also because my sundress has barely held up in the storm, the thin material clinging to every curve of my body, the raw, chilled air hardening my nipples even through my bathing suit underneath.

Not that I'm embarrassed. I just think Luke might be, if anyone could see the way he's looking at my chest now, as he helps me from his truck. If anyone besides me were to notice a certain body part of his own now straining against the fabric of his jeans as he leads me upstairs.

Once we're inside, the chill sets in and goosebumps raise across my skin.

Unable to help himself, dark eyes still lingering over my chest, Luke crashes down on me, his kisses delicious and hungry. My hands knot in his hair as I kiss him back, the rain on our skin puddling on the floor at our feet.

Despite the heat building between our bodies as he holds me to his chest, kisses tenderly lining my jaw, my neck... My body's natural instinct prevails and a shudder rolls through me, my teeth clanking together as I shiver.

"Shit." Luke sighs, hands stilling immediately on my arms, our skin cool against each other. "We'll get sick if we don't dry off and warm up soon."

His brow pressed down to mine, his weight leaning into me, my eyes trail down to his full mouth.

Let me get sick then, I think to myself as I stretch forward and grab his bottom lip between my teeth.

"Now, now, Dylan Grace," Luke murmurs, his voice a breath over my lips, "Don't let your stubbornness now make you suffer later." He smirks, jerking his head towards the bathroom. "I'll get the water running. A hot shower should do it."

My eyes flash as his trail my body, from my head to my toes and back again, his lips quipping upwards in approval. He turns and enters the bathroom, the sound of water pelting tile inviting me to join him.

Yes, I think to myself, my mind catching up as my legs are already propelling me forward after him, A hot shower with Luke will do just the trick.

"Pickle, why don't you pick out a movie? I'll be out in a second." Luke calls from the bathroom, the door slightly ajar, steam still rolling out to the bedroom in thick clouds.

In Luke's t-shirt and nothing else, I sit cross-legged on his bed, mind and body both beautifully, peacefully numb. Sore, too, but in the best way.

"Pickle?" My nose scrunches in disgust. "How can you call me that, after what we just did?"

What we just did... heat rises in my cheeks and my thighs clamp together involuntarily. A shower with Luke had done just the trick... Again and again, in fact.

He made a show of warming me up - warming every inch of me up, so painfully slowly, as he rubbed a wash cloth over my body, trailing citrus suds everywhere he went. He washed the sweat and salt and sun and rain from my skin, before abandoning the towel all together, his hand retracing it's path over my arms, my neck, my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples just so, before sliding his fingers over my ribs, my belly, lower, lower... until he was between my legs, slick fingers moving in and out of me until I was hot all over, whimpering for release.

And like every time before, Luke gave it to me. Worked me with his hand until I came undone around his fingers. Only then did he spin me around, pressing my backside to his front firmly enough that his length throbbed against my cheeks, and use his own hands to press mine firmly against the shower wall.

His knees nudged mine apart, spreading my legs for him as his hand rested on the back of my neck, bending me forward, exposing more of me to him. And once he had me like that, writhing and breathless, he gave me every inch of him in one, fluid thrust.

I almost gasp again, the memory enough to send a throbbing ache to my center. He had definitely warmed me up, that was certain.

Warmed me up, but also somehow cooled me down from the days events. From the anger that still boils just below the surface.

Somehow, like he always does despite me not understanding why or how, Luke gave me exactly what I, my mind and my body, needed most.

"After what we just did?" Luke's head pops out of the bathroom, wearing a smirk that tells me he knows I'm replaying it in my mind. That I'll probably replay it again and again in the nights to come. "You mean after we fucked until the hot water ran out?"

I gulp, eyes widening, thighs clamping at the way his lips curl around the word fucked.

He laughs at my silence, ducking back into the bathroom. "You'll always be my little Dyl Pickle, Dylan. Even when you're all sexy and bent over for me. Now stop focusing on that and start finding us something good to watch - the remote is in the bedside table."

Using some effort to force my mouth closed, I do as I'm told and lean across the bed for the drawer. I pull it open and find the remote immediately, right in the front like Luke said it'd be.

But something else rolls out from the motion of the drawer and grazes my finger tips. An orange pill bottle, the same as I'd seen under Luke's sink that time before. His name is on the script information, staring back at me in bold, black font.

Rolling the drawer closed again, the pills rattling within it, I glance at the bathroom another time, remote idly sitting in my lap. Through the small gap in the door, I see Luke in the mirror, arms extended as he tries to stretch. As he tries to twist his torso left and right.

Not knowing I'm watching, Luke tries to stretch further but stops abruptly, a painful grimace breaking across his face.

My chest clenches, the quick jerking motion of his slip at the pool clear as day in my mind. Will he take those pills tonight? Is the pain that bad?

Worry has me gnawing my bottom lip when Luke finally emerges from the bathroom, the grimace gone and replaced with an easy smile. I do my best to return it, not wanting him to know what I saw, the feeling like I was intruding too strong to ignore.

"So Pickle, find anything?" He kneels into the mattress, his weight shifting me towards him. Seeing that I haven't, he takes the remote from me and pulls up Netflix before turning off the lamp beside us.

Noting the careful way he's moving through the dark, I gently tuck myself into his body, curling up along his side as he finally lays back. I snuggle my head against his chest.

"How's your back?" I dare to ask now that I'm not face to face with him.

He stills beneath me, his hand halting over it's trail along my own spine. "It's fine. Why do you ask?"

Still not looking at him, I shrug. "You slipped at the pool today. Rescuing Finn."

"Yeah, I slipped, Dyl, that's all. Just a little slip." His fingers resume their tracing over my shirt, "I'm okay, it wasn't a big deal."

He's lying - I saw him in the bathroom. The frustration on his face, the pain a simple stretch caused. But it was for Finn, and I know he wouldn't have had it any other way. Because he'll always rescue that boy, the people he loves.

"Should you see your doctor?" I ask anyways.

His chuckle rumbles against my cheek. "You sound like my mom now."

"Gee, thanks." I roll my eyes, not really upset at all. "I just... I want you to be okay, is all."

"If I call him, will it stop you from worrying?"

"Maybe." Probably not.

"Then I'll call him Monday." Simple as that.

As content as I can be with the situation, I let my eyes close, relax to the steady rhythm of Luke's breathing. I slip into a comfortable, half-awake-half-asleep daydream state, body igniting at the memory of how Luke touched it, touched me... when my eyes flash open.

"I really don't want you to call me Pickle anymore."

"So stubborn." He laughs again, the movement shaking my head on top of him. "At least tell me why, then."

I sigh, delighting in the easy back-and-forth we fall into when there's no hostility. His fingers thread through my hair, still damp from our shower, and I do my best not to worry about his back, if he'll be okay, instead focusing on how good it feels to just be with him in this moment like this.

"I don't know, it just doesn't really fit now that we're... having sex. It's not a flattering nickname. Pickles are gross." It hardly seems like I need a reason. But it's bothered me from the first time he and Casey used it, that much has never changed.

"That's not true," His voice is as soft as his fingers against my scalp.

"It is - they're green, and bumpy, and slimy and wet-"

"You have that part in common then." Luke interrupts me, a dark undertone lacing his words, and I flush in the dark. He continues easily, "It doesn't matter anyways."

Still a little stunned, I ask, "Why not?"

"Because even if they are gross, Dylan," His voice rasps against my hair, his hand trailing over my waist, across my lower belly and then down between my legs, finding me very wet indeed, "You still taste so fucking good."

His fingers already deep inside me, I can only begin a sarcastic laugh at the line, before his mouth closes over mine, stomping out my every thought entirely.

Okay this chapter isn't very heavy - we had a couple of those and needed some Dyl and Luke time I think. I hope you liked it! Tell me what ya think ♥️