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He positioned himself at my entrance, then stopped again. "Vince, I... I've never... "

"Never what?"

"Never had someone trust me like this," he admitted. "Never had someone give me everything and trust me not to take too much."

"Well, now you have," I said softly. "So show me what you do with that trust."

He pushed inside slowly, watching my face the entire time. The first piercing breached me, and we both groaned at the sensation. The metal created a distinct ridge of pressure that made my nerves light up.

"Fuck," I panted. "I can feel it. The metal."

"Too much?"

"No. More. Please."

He sank deeper, each piercing creating its own unique sensation as it pushed inside. By the time he was fully seated, I felt impossibly full, those metal bars adding a dimension I'd never experienced.

"Jesus Christ, you're gripping my dick like it owes you money," he said, holding perfectly still.

"If you don't move soon I'm going to write you up for therapeutic negligence," I threatened. "I didn't prep myself just to cockwarm you. Get moving, murder boy."

He started slow, pulling out until just the tip remained, then pushing back in steadily. The drag of those piercings against my entrance was incredible, each one creating its own point of stimulation.

"Still think Pilates prepared you for this?" he asked, picking up the pace slightly.

"Ungh fuck fuck fuck," was all I managed as he hit my prostate, speech completely abandoning me.

The piercings dragged against my entrance with every thrust, creating constant stimulation that made my thighs shake.

It was like being rimmed and fucked at the same time, sensation that never stopped even when he was buried deep .

"Not so chatty now, are you?" he said when I dissolved into incoherent moans.

I retaliated by clenching around him deliberately, using those Pilates muscles for evil.

"Fuck!" He groaned, rhythm completely faltering.

"You were saying?"

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're going to pay for that."

Then he proceeded to absolutely destroy my ass in the best way possible, angling his hips to hit my prostate with every thrust until I couldn’t even form thought.

Each withdrawal dragged those metal bars against oversensitive nerves, each push back in created points of pressure that had me writhing.

I wrapped a shaky hand around my cock, barely coordinating the movement with how good he was fucking me.

"Look at you," he panted. "My mouthy therapist finally speechless. Took my cock to shut you up."

"Fuck you," I managed, but it came out more like a moan.

"Currently fucking you," he pointed out reasonably, then did something with his hips that made me cry out. "And doing a damn good job of it."

The angle change made the piercings drag differently, the metal bars catching on my rim, sending sparks up my spine. I registered every ridge, every bar, creating sensations I'd never experienced before. My whole body hummed, nerve endings firing in ways that made coherent thought impossible.

I was getting close embarrassingly fast, the combination of his pierced cock destroying me and my hand on my dick almost too much.

"Luka, I'm—"

"Yeah," he groaned, thrusts becoming erratic. "Me too. Come on, Vincent. Let me see you lose it. "

That did it. I came with a cry, spilling over my fist and stomach as he fucked me through it.

"Fuck," he groaned, hips stuttering as he followed me over. "Vincent!"

He came hard, pulsing inside me as he bit down on my shoulder again. I could feel every throb, every pulse, claimed inside and out.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting. After a moment, he carefully pulled out, both of us hissing at the loss.

"Fuck," I said eloquently.

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing kisses to the marks he'd left. "Was that... okay?"

I laughed, slightly hysterical. "Okay? Luka, that was... I don't even have words."

"I didn't hurt you?" He seemed genuinely concerned now.

"You were perfect," I assured him. "The way you held back even when I gave you permission not to... Fuck, that was hotter than anything I've ever experienced."

"I think you broke my brain."

"In a good way?"

"In the best way," he said, kissing me softly. "No one's ever trusted me like that. Given me that kind of power and been turned on by it instead of afraid."

"Well, get used to it," I said. "Because I plan on doing it again. Frequently."

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're going to kill me."

"But what a way to go," I replied cheerfully. "Death by orgasm. They'll write epic poetry about your cock at my funeral."

He laughed and kissed me again before reluctantly moving. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up. You're going to be sore enough as it is. "

In the bathroom, he insisted on cleaning me himself, applying the warm washcloth gently against sensitive skin. The marks he'd left already darkened.

"I really marked you up," he said, sounding partly proud and partly worried.

"Good," I said simply. "I want to feel them tomorrow. Want to remember how you chose to care for me when you could have hurt me."

Back in bed, he pulled me against him, my back to his chest. But after a few minutes, I felt him tense slightly, pulling back just enough to create space between us.

"Hey," I said softly, not pursuing, just acknowledging. "It's okay."

"I don't—" he started, then stopped, frustrated. "I don't know how to be after... all that."

"You don't have to know," I told him. "We'll figure it out as we go."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What if I can't do this? What if tomorrow I'm back to being..."

"Then we'll work with whoever shows up tomorrow," I said. "That's what this is, Luka. Not a magical fix. Just... showing up for each other."

"The dream," he said after a little while. "It was about Ana. The night they took her while I hid in the crawl space like a fucking coward.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, that no child could have done anything against armed soldiers. But I knew the guilt had rooted too deep for rational arguments. Instead, I just listened.

"She was my other half," he continued, his eyes distant, seeing something far beyond our darkened room. "We created our own language. Words, signals, everything. Two taps meant danger. Three meant 'I love you.' We could communicate across a crowded room without anyone knowing."

I pictured two dark-haired children with identical ice-blue eyes, signaling secret messages while adults remained oblivious. Two halves of a whole, suddenly, violently separated.

"She was a caretaker, like you," he continued, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "She always had candy to share. These bright red cherry ones. When the other kids were scared during the bombings, she'd pass them around."

His voice held a tenderness I'd never heard before, a glimpse of the child he might have been, had the world not broken him.

"In the dream, she's in a mass grave." His voice fractured, each word scraping out painfully. "I always know which one is her. She's holding that red candy wrapper."

His body convulsed against mine, a tremor that started in his chest and radiated outward. A sound escaped him—not quite a sob, but something more primal, as if his grief had physical form and was clawing its way out through his throat.

"Every time, I try to reach her. Pull her out." His fingers dug into my skin hard enough to bruise, anchoring himself in the present while the past tried to drag him under. "But I can't move. Can't save her. Just like before."

His breathing came in ragged gasps, his entire body vibrating with repressed anguish. The wall he'd built around this memory was crumbling, decades of contained grief pouring through the cracks.

"She called for me," he whispered, voice so broken I barely recognized it. "When they took her. She called my name, over and over. I still hear it. Every night. Every fucking night for twenty-six years. "

I held him as his body shook with silent sobs, absorbing the tremors of grief decades in the making. His hands clutched at me like I was the only solid thing in a world dissolving around him.

"I should have saved her," he whispered.

"You were six years old," I reminded him. "A child."

"When Prometheus found me in the ruins, I knew. I knew he was a bad man. He smelled like money and blood. Like them. The people who took her. But I didn’t care.

I was so angry. So lost. All I wanted was a chance to hurt someone.

To make the world pay for what happened.

He told me he could make it happen. That I’d never be weak again.

But he was wrong, Vincent. Every time I close my eyes, I’m that weak little boy again, helpless to stop them.

I can’t save her. I could never save her. ”

I cradled him against me. "What happened to Ana wasn't your fault," I whispered, stroking his hair. "But your love for her is still saving people. It saved me."

He went still in my arms. "What do you mean?"

"The boy who couldn't save his sister grew into a man who chose to save a stranger instead of killing him." I pressed my lips to his forehead. "You're not helpless, Luka. You're the strongest person I've ever known."

His breathing steadied gradually, but doubt lingered in his voice. "I couldn't protect her."

"You protect me now," I said simply. "I feel safe with you. Always have, even when I shouldn't."

I felt the shift in his body, muscles relaxing under the weight of trust freely given.

"Rest now, Luka.”

“Can’t,” he murmured. “Need to…I ha ve to…”

“This is how relationships work. When one of us needs to rest, the other stands guard. Tonight is my turn. It doesn't make you weak to let me hold you tonight. You’ve been strong. Now, trust me to be strong too."

His grip on me loosened from desperate to something more deliberate. He nuzzled against my chest, breath warm against my skin. "I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered, so quietly I almost missed it. "Never thought I could."

My heart expanded in my chest, almost painful in its fullness. I tilted his face up to mine.

"That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me. I'm all in, Luka. Have been since that first therapy session. You don't scare me. Not your past, not your feelings."

His eyes, bright even in the darkness, searched mine. What he found there made him smile.

I kissed the top of his head. "Get some sleep. I’ll watch over you tonight so you can protect me tomorrow."

He nodded against my chest, and I felt him finally surrender, his face buried against my neck. The predator at rest, but no less powerful for it.