Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Alaric

I really wanted Bastien to be like we were before, but it felt highly impossible. Still, seeing how he had spoken to Dami made me realize that he just hated me, and that could change if I could help him with his therapy.

Dami settled back in his seat beside me. "How’s your brother doing?" he asked quietly.

I let out a tired breath and leaned my head back against the seat. "He still hates me."

Dami bumped my shoulder gently with his. "He doesn’t hate you. He’s hurting. There’s a difference. You know how the accident affected him, affected you. Don’t worry about that for now. I’m sure he’ll come around soon."

I managed a small, genuine smile despite the ache in my chest. "That’s the softest I’ve heard him speak in a long time. It was all thanks to you. If it’s not too much trouble, I have a favor to ask of you."

Dami raised his brows in confusion. "And what will that be?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, the words sticking in my throat for a second before I forced them out. "I... if it’s not too much," I paused, scratching awkwardly at the skin there, "can you please check up on him whenever you can? I truly want him to get through this therapy, and it seems like he only listens to you."

Dami stared at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching my face. The jet hummed steadily around us, the soft overhead lights casting gentle shadows across the cream leather seats. Finally, he gave a slow nod, his expression warm.

"I will try my best," he said quietly. "Anything for a friend. Besides, I have Bastien’s best interest at heart. I’ll do anything in my power to help him if that means he would walk again."

A heavy sigh of relief slipped from my lips. The knot in my chest loosened, just a little. "Thank you. Very much."

"Anytime, Alaric." Dami leaned back against the seat, offering me a small, reassuring smile. "I’ve got your back." He yawned then shut his eyes.

I nodded, grateful beyond words, and turned my gaze toward the window. The jet had leveled out now, cruising smoothly above a sea of white clouds that stretched endlessly beneath us. The sunlight pierced through in brilliant golden shafts, turning the cabin into something almost peaceful.

For a brief moment, I let myself breathe.

Then my phone vibrated in my hand.

I assumed it was my mother sending another worried message. I swiped the screen open without thinking — and froze.

It was from Nico’s Instagram account.

He DM’ed me?

My eyes widened. Heart suddenly hammering, I tapped the notification. The first message was a beautiful photo of the Bahrain International Circuit at golden hour, the desert sand glowing warm around the track.

The caption underneath was simple:

Welcome to Bahrain, princess.

Before I could even process it, the next image loaded.

Nico. Lying on his bed, completely butt naked.

The photo was taken from above, showing the long, lean lines of his tattooed body stretched out across dark sheets. His messy black hair was tousled, silver chains around his neck, one arm lazily behind his head. The lighting was low and intimate, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every swirl of black ink across his chest and arms.

He looked sinful. Dangerous. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"What..." I muttered, my face instantly burning hot. Heat rushed up my neck and flooded my cheeks.

And then came the final image.

A close-up of his cock.

Hard. Thick. Veins standing out prominently along the shaft, the flushed head glistening with a bead of precum at the tip. The photo was shameless, explicit, taken from an angle that left nothing to the imagination.

Below it, the message read:

I can’t wait to be inside you, princess.

"What the fuck!" I burst out, the words ripping from my throat louder than I intended. I jolted upright in my seat, nearly dropping the phone.

My heart slammed against my ribs like a piston. Heat exploded across my entire face and down my chest. My hands started shaking so badly I almost fumbled the device into my lap.

Dami’s eyes flew open immediately. He sat up straight, concern flashing across his features. "Is everything alright?"

I shook my head rapidly, unable to form words at first. My pulse thundered in my ears. I stared back down at the screen, unable to look away from the explicit photo even as embarrassment and fury warred inside me.

Those thick veins. The way his cock curved slightly. The sheer audacity of sending something like this while we were both heading to the same race weekend.

I told him it was never happening again. I told him I didn’t want to see him. And now this?

What the hell was wrong with him?

My thumbs hovered over the block button, trembling. Part of me desperately wanted to hit it — to cut off whatever twisted game he was playing. But another part, a darker, more traitorous part, didn’t.

My stomach flipped. My thighs pressed together involuntarily. Heat pooled low in my gut despite how furious I was.

"Alaric?" Dami asked again, leaning closer, clearly worried now.

I quickly locked the screen, my face burning hotter than the Bahrain desert waiting for us below. "It’s... nothing," I muttered, voice strained. "Just... spam."

Dami didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. He settled back into his seat, though I could feel him watching me from the corner of his eye.

I turned toward the window again, staring at the endless clouds without really seeing them.

My mind kept flashing back to those images — Nico’s naked body, that obscene close-up, the filthy message. My cock twitched traitorously in my pants, and I cursed myself silently.

He was going to ruin me.

And the worst part was... some sick, twisted piece of me was already looking forward to Bahrain.