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That we’ve become something else.

His weight above me is heavy, grounding, protective. Like shelter. Like a shield my body doesn’t want lifted. I breathe in the scent of him and hold still beneath the solid press of his chest. I don’t want him to move. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

His arms tighten around me.

One hand at the base of my spine, the other curled protectively at the back of my head.

Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll float away.

His mouth finds the curve of my neck, kisses it—slow and open and possessive.

He doesn’t speak yet.

Doesn’t need to.

Because every part of him is saying it already.

You’re mine.

You’re safe.

You’re staying.

I shift a little beneath him, hips twitching from the oversensitivity, and he groans softly—his cock still thick and snug inside me.

“Easy,” he murmurs against my skin. “Still so fuckin’ full of me.”

My breath hitches and I grip him tighter, too dazed to say anything back.

But the way he holds me?

It’s not just about lust.

It’s care.

Total and undiluted.

He lifts his head slowly, just enough to look down at me. His hair is damp against his forehead, eyes storm-grey and burning, tracing every inch of my face.

“You okay, sweet girl?” he asks, voice low, reverent. His eyes search mine with quiet intensity, storm-grey and soft around the edges. There’s still a flush high on his cheeks, a tenderness in the set of his jaw—like he’s trying to make sure I feel the weight of his care in every breath.

I nod, even though I know by now that’s not enough for him.

His thumb brushes beneath my eye. Over the apple of my cheek. Down to my mouth. He watches the way my lips part under his touch.

“Tell me.”

My mouth parts, and I find myself reaching, hoping to answer with my lips instead. But he won’t budge.

My voice is hoarse and soft when it finally comes.

“I feel… safe.”

Something in his expression shatters at that. Not visibly, or loudly.

Just a flicker in his eyes. A breath that falters.

Then—“Good girl.”

The words wrap around my chest like a balm. They settle something inside me I didn’t know was still shaking. My breath stutters, then evens out.

He kisses me then. Slow and deep.

Claiming.

Like he’s sealing it.

Making sure every part of me knows. And when he finally pulls back, his voice is gravel against my lips.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

His voice is low and thick with promise—part threat, part tenderness. His fingers flex against my hips, anchoring me in place, and his eyes burn with something equal parts hunger and care. Like he’s not done showing me how thoroughly I belong to him.

I blink up at him, eyes wide, mouth parted. And he smirks, just the faintest, devilish tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “Eventually.”

That smirk doesn’t fade right away. It lingers—low, dangerous, and intimate.

Like a promise wrapped in velvet.

Eventually.

My body hums at the word, even as I lie breathless and spent beneath him.

I feel him shift. His cock, still inside me, gives one final throb before he groans low and starts to ease out—slowly, carefully, like he knows I’m sore.

The stretch makes me gasp.

He hushes me instantly.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

One hand curves protectively over my hip, anchoring me as he withdraws completely.

The loss makes me whimper, even as I flinch at the sensitivity.

His hands are there in a second, stroking my thighs, brushing back damp hair, grounding me.

Then he moves. He doesn’t leave, just reaches to the bedside table where he’d set a warm cloth earlier—because of course he did.

Because he thinks of everything.

He cleans me gently.

Tenderly.

The warmth of the cloth, the sure rhythm of his hand—it makes something deep in me soften.

My body aches in the sweetest way, and yet the care he shows now undoes me more than anything that came before.

It’s quiet and slow and reverent, like he’s tending to something sacred. Like I’m something sacred.

The cloth glides between my thighs, slow and warm and unhurried.

I jolt once.

He hushes me again.

“You’re okay. Just cleaning you up, baby.”

I nod, tears suddenly pricking at the corners of my eyes for no reason I can name.

It’s not pain, not shame.

Just… Being cared for.

Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and pulls the covers up around us. And without another word, he gathers me in. Lifts me onto his chest, lies back against the pillows, and holds me there. My cheek over his heart, my legs tangled with his, sis arms wrapped tight around me.

He doesn’t speak for a long moment, just strokes my spine with one hand. His other finds my hand and brings it to his mouth, kisses each knuckle like a prayer.

“You okay, little one?”

This time, I don’t hesitate. “Better than okay.”

He kisses my temple.

Then murmurs—

“You’re mine now. You know that, don’t you?”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge beneath it—a hush of urgency, of something fragile and raw. His brow tics like he’s holding back more than he says, and for just a second, he looks almost unsure. Like this moment means more than he knows how to carry. Like needing the answer costs him.

I nod again, but I whisper it this time too. “I’m yours.”

His arms tighten. And for a long moment, that’s all we are.

Us.

His thumb strokes my back in slow, steady lines, each pass a tether, a grounding. My cheek is still pressed to his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart.

He hasn’t let go once, and I don’t want him to.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

His hand brushes my hair back behind my ear, fingertips lingering there for a moment before trailing along the line of my jaw.

“You were perfect,” he murmurs. “So damn brave. Letting me in like that.”

I shiver.

Not from cold.

But from how true it feels.

“I don’t feel brave,” I whisper, my voice trembling just enough to give me away. I press in closer, needing the heat of him. My fingers curl gently against his chest, as if anchoring myself to the truth of his presence.

He shifts just enough to kiss my forehead, then rests his cheek against my crown.

“That’s what makes it real,” he says quietly. “You did it anyway.”

My throat tightens.

My hand finds his chest. Spreads wide. I feel his breath beneath my palm.

Feel how calm it is now.

Steady.

Like being here with me brought him back.

His voice dips even lower, just for me.

“When your body’s ready…” A pause. A soft inhale. “I’ll take you slower. Let you feel everything. Take my time with you, like I’ve wanted to from the start.”

My whole body warms.

He shifts again, kissing the side of my head.

“But for now,” he adds, voice deep and full of something so tender it aches, “you rest, little one.”

My lashes lower, my fingers curl softly against him.

And I fall asleep wrapped in his arms.

Kept.

Claimed.

Home.

CAL

She’s asleep within minutes. Her breath soft against my chest, her body curved into mine like she was built to fit there.

God knows I’ve never held anything like her before.

Not this tender, not this real.

She’s all soft limbs and slow exhales, skin still flushed where I kissed her, claimed her, filled her so full of me I swear I still feel her wrapped around me.

But it’s not the sex that undoes me.

It’s the trust.

The way she gave me everything tonight.

Let me touch what no one else has ever seen, let me keep her—really keep her—in all the ways that matter.

I brush her hair back again. Let my fingers trail through it, slow and steady.

She murmurs something in her sleep. Nothing I catch, but it makes her tuck in tighter.

My arms tighten in response, instinctive.

Protective.

Possessive.

And so goddamn grateful.

She has no idea what she’s done to me. How long it’s been since I felt this… whole.

Years. Maybe decades.

I press a kiss to her temple. Whisper it there, quiet as breath. “You’re everything to me, little one.”

My chest tightens as I say it. The words feel too small for what she is—what she’s become.

My throat works around the ache, my eyes sting.

She’s still curled against me, breath warm, soft, and I swear I can feel her inside every part of me now.

Like loving her isn’t something I’m doing—it’s something I am.

My voice is barely audible.

But I mean every word.

“And nothing’s ever going to touch you. Not while I’m breathing.”

I hold her through the hush that follows.

Eyes open.

Mind still.

Heart full.