Jock Next Bed (BL)-Chapter 254: Vale’s desire (2)

Chapter 254: Vale’s desire (2)
Sky’s breath caught. Because he did understand that feeling. That certainty. That sense of rightness when he looked at Chris.
But this was different. This had to be different.
"Chris is my age," Sky said carefully. "And he wants to be with me. We chose each other. That’s the difference."
Vale’s laugh was soft. Bitter. "You think that matters? Choice? Want? Those are just words people use to pretend they have control." His eyes found Sky’s again, blazing with conviction. "Cory will choose me. Because it’s inevitable. And I’m patient. I’m the only real option."
"That’s... not love," Sky said, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. What would he do if Chris had a crush on a girl and he was uncertain he wouldn’t have him?
He shook his head. He could not even bring himself to think about that. He was in a better place now.
Breathe in. Out.
Sky’s hands clenched. "It’s not the same. Chris and I are equals. We both have agency. We both chose this."
"For now," Vale said softly. "But if he tried to leave? If someone else tried to take him? What would you do?"
Sky didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
Vale’s smile was knowing. Sharp. "We’re the same. The only difference is I’m honest about it. I don’t pretend it’s anything other than what it is. Obsession. Possession. Inevitability. I’ve known since I was twelve that Cory was mine. That we were meant to be together. And nothing, not his current confusion, not that girl, nothing will change that."
"You’re going to hurt him," Sky said quietly. "That’s not healthy."
"I don’t care about healthy. I care about him." Vale’s eyes blazed with conviction.
Sky stared at him. Trying to find something, anything to say that would penetrate that certainty.
But Vale’s conviction was impenetrable. A fortress built on years of obsession and fantasy and absolute belief.
Vale reached for his glass again, but Sky grabbed it before he could.
Face-off. Eyes locked.
Sky was taller, but Vale’s presence felt immense. Overwhelming. Like staring into an abyss.
"Give it back," Vale said softly.
"Stop drinking the alcohol," Sky said firmly, keeping his voice low so as not to cause a scene but making sure every word landed with weight. "You’re still underage. Seventeen years old at a party full of government officials and business leaders. And this is the Owens’ party, their celebration. You’re going to get your relatives in trouble."
"Why don’t you me to a guardian then?" Vale challenged, his voice soft but cutting, daring Sky to make a move. "Go ahead. Call someone over."
"Maybe I will."
They stood there, locked in silent battle over a glass of champagne, neither willing to back down. Sky could feel the tension crackling between them, could see the calculation in Vale’s eyes as he assessed angles and outcomes—
And then Vale’s expression changed. Shifted. A small, satisfied smile curved his lips, and Sky realized this had been deliberate. The drinking, the confrontation, the scene. All of it carefully orchestrated to achieve exactly this outcome.
"Vale?"
Both of them turned simultaneously to find Cory, his expression concerned and confused and so painfully innocent that Sky wanted to grab him and shake him and warn him about what was happening right under his nose. Cory’s eyes landed on the glass they were both holding, then flicked between their faces, trying to understand what was going on.
"Are you drinking... alcohol?" Cory asked, and there was genuine worry in his voice, the kind of concern an older brother has for a younger sibling who might be making bad choices. "You’re not old enough. You know you’re not supposed to. Are you feeling okay? Is something wrong?"
Vale let go of the glass immediately, letting Sky have it. "I was bored," he said quietly, "And I wanted to go home. This party is exhausting. All these people..."
"Why didn’t you tell me?" Cory stepped closer immediately. Hand on Vale’s forehead. "You don’t feel warm. Feeling sick?"
"I’m fine. Just tired. Can we go?" Vale leaned into Cory’s touch. Perfect amount of seeking comfort. Perfect amount of vulnerability.
"Of course." Soothing. Gentle. Cory wrapped an arm around Vale’s shoulders. "Come on. Let’s get you home. Sorry, should’ve checked on you earlier."
"It’s okay." Vale looked up at Cory with perfect affection. Perfect trust. "You were busy. I understand."
As Cory turned to lead him away, still fussing, still concerned, Vale glanced back at Sky over his shoulder.
Sky could see it.
The message was crystal clear: See? This is inevitable.
Sky stood frozen, watching them leave. Cory adjusting Vale’s jacket with careful hands, checking if he felt dizzy, being the perfect caring older brother.
Completely unaware that he was the sole focus of an obsession so deep, so absolute, so carefully cultivated that it had its own gravitational pull.
Completely unaware of the predator he was protecting and sheltering and trusting.
Sky needed something stronger to drink.
Much, much stronger.
He snagged another glass and downed it, but the alcohol did nothing to wash away the sick feeling.
Because he’d seen it. The depth of Vale’s obsession. The years of planning. The absolute certainty. The willingness to manipulate and scheme and wait with inhuman patience.
And worst of all, he’d seen the intelligence behind it. Vale wasn’t some impulsive teenager with a crush. He was calculating. Patient. Strategic.
He’d been engineering this for years. Studying Cory. Learning exactly how to be what Cory needed. Exactly how to make himself indispensable. Exactly how to make sure that when the time came, when Cory was old enough, when Vale made his move, there would be no other real option.
Sky couldn’t shake Vale’s words: We’re the same.
Because some part of him recognized the feeling. That certainty. That possessiveness. That sense of knowing.
But it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be the same.
Chris chose him. They chose each other.
Cory didn’t even know he was being hunted.
Sky had no idea what to do with this information. Who could he tell? Chris? What would he say?