Chapter 16 #2
My bedroom sat at the top of the stairs, just off to the right, door already cracked, low light spilling out across the hall. I pushed through it, toes sinking into the carpet as I crossed the room. The mattress dipped under us as I sat back, my spine finding the headboard.
Gravity did the rest.
He folded over me, limbs heavy, wiggling closer as though there was still distance to close even when there wasn’t.
His nose pressed just under my chin, a small, broken sound slipping out against my throat.
My grip tightened automatically, one arm locking him in place, the other coming up to palm his head.
His body answered before his voice could.
Fingers caught at the hem of my shirt, tugging once.
“Go ahead, baby.” I coaxed. “Take what you need.”
The hesitation lasted half a second more before it broke—hand forcing its way under, pushing past the barrier and pressing flat against my skin.
“Daddy,” he whispered.
Uneven pressure slid along my side, fingers dancing along my ribcage before spreading wide against my chest. His mouth followed, pressing into my collarbone, messy and unfocused.
“Good boy.”
Time slipped somewhere along the way.
Didn’t matter.
The weight of him, the way he fit here like he’d always known where to go—it was undeniable.
Too much.
Too sharp.
Too fucking consuming to be anything else.
Love.
It hadn’t been that long.
Ask me if I gave a shit.
This pull, this need, this certainty that settled in my chest like it had every right to be there had only ever risen for him.
He dragged himself upright, then shoved his other hand under my shirt like one wasn’t enough. Forehead pressed to mine, he exhaled.
“My mom hasn’t left her house since Abel went missing.”
I could’ve told him he didn’t owe me his scars or a map to all his pain.
I didn’t.
Because the truth was—I wanted it.
All of it.
Every piece he’d been carrying around, every part that made him shake like this when something as small as a door didn’t open fast enough.
If it belonged to him, I wanted it.
“She stopped letting me leave the house.”
The pads of his thumbs pressed harder where they were braced under my shirt, circling my nipple around and around.
“I was homeschooled until high school, and even then, it was… supervised,” he said. “Otto would pick me up. Drop me off. Bring me home.”
A small, humorless laugh slipped out.
“No clubs. No sports. No birthday parties or field trips.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure he heard me.
“She locks everything. Sometimes, if it was really hot out, she’d crack the window. Just barely.”
Christ.
He hadn’t just grown up sheltered. He’d spent his childhood watching the outside world through glass that never fully opened.
A fucking fishbowl.
And now something as small as a stuck handle was enough to drag him right back into it.
“I moved to campus freshman year and everything was just… open. People coming and going. Anywhere they wanted. It was like something out of a movie, which sounds corny as fuck, but—”
“No.”
It did actually, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. My baby could feel whatever the hell he wanted.
“I didn’t realize I had a problem until something closed and didn’t open right away.
I—” He cut himself off, looking away for a beat.
“The elevator in the dorms stopped running. I was only in there for fourteen minutes, but it was awful. I took a third job to afford therapy, which is its own brand of fuckery by the way, and avoided elevators for a year.”
A sad smile tugged at his lips. “First time I rode one again was with Rhys. I threw up on his shoes afterward.”
I should’ve told him it wasn’t his fault—that he didn’t have to explain or justify why his body reacted the way it did.
But I wasn’t interested in softening it.
I was interested in knowing it.
In understanding exactly what got under his skin and what made him break.
So I could make sure nothing ever got the chance again.
“It’s been years since it was bad,” he said, like he thought he had to apologize. “It’s mostly just… that house. It’s a trigger.”
“Why do you—”
“Keep going back?” He muttered. “Because she’s my mom, and I’m not going to take away the only son she has left. I’ll just… piss with the door open next time.”
A quiet sound left me before I could stop it. “You better not be showing your dick to anyone.”
A choppy laugh broke out of him. His forehead bumped mine again before his mouth found me, a little clumsy.
When he settled back, I didn’t give him space to drift.
“You’re not going back there alone.”
His brows pulled slightly. “Henry.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, Archibald. That house isn’t something you have to keep proving you can survive.”
“I know that, Professor,” he quipped. “But my mom is important to me, and I’m not going to stop going because I had a panic attack. That feels like letting the pain win.”
“Proud of you, baby.” I kissed the shell of his ear. “But I still don’t want you to go alone.”
“I don’t even want to go alone,” he grumped. “And you’re not the boss of me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” My hands closed over his thighs, heat sinking through the fabric as I squeezed. “I think we both know that's not true.”
His breath caught, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, his hips shifting forward just enough to press harder against me.
“You gonna prove it?” he whispered, mouth skimming close to my jaw.
“You want me to?” I let my hand slide up, fingers tracing the dip of his waist. “Want me to remind you who you belong to?”
“Please.”
“Take your shirt off for me, baby.”
He fumbled for the hem, but I caught his hands, stilling him long enough to press a kiss to his knuckles. Then I helped him, peeling the fabric up and over his head, tossing it on the floor.
My fingers lingered along the exposed skin of his arms and chest. “Beautiful.”
“Need you.” Impatient hands dove for my own shirt, tugging at the fabric until it was gone. His palms splayed across my bare chest.
I took his jaw in my hand, pulling him into a slow kiss, angling his face to deepen it, to steal every ounce of air he had left.
Fingers curling hard into his hips, I moved. Gravity pulled him down until his back hit the mattress. He landed beneath me with a gasp, eyes darting up.
“There you are,” I crooned, pressing my weight over him, pinning him with my hips. “Look at you. All soft for me. All mine.”
He fisted the sheets on either side of his head, knuckles white where the tension bled through. Every choked breath made his chest rise and fall, skin flushed and trembling through him in visible waves.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I said, leaning down to press my lips to his throat, feeling the frantic flutter of his pulse. “Let me see you.”
I worked the button on his jeans, grinning at the tremor I felt in his thighs as I dragged the zipper down, teasing—just my knuckles brushing the line where his stomach met denim.
“You’re shaking.” I pressed my mouth to his ear. “Is that nerves, or is my good boy just that desperate for me?”
Hips rocking, he gasped. “Just you.”
“Open up for me.” I slid my hands beneath his waistband and started to peel his jeans down. Slowly. I wanted him to feel every goddamn second of it.
His skin shivered under my touch, goosebumps racing everywhere my hands passed. I paused halfway, hands gripping the denim at his knees, and looked at him—completely open, thighs falling apart for me, cock already leaking against his stomach.
Fuck.
“My little angel.” My voice was a growl, heat pooling low in my gut. “You’re so pretty spread out like this. You know what you do to me?”
He shook his head, biting his lip, color blooming high on his cheeks.
“I could keep you like this all night.” Leaning down, I braced one hand by his head, the other sliding up between his legs. “My good boy, whimpering and desperate to come.”
A strangled moan broke from him, head thrown back, the cords in his neck straining and taut.
Legs started to fidget restlessly beneath me, heels digging into the mattress, hips twitching like he was wired too tight for his own skin. The sight made me chuckle, palming his thighs as I slid down and hooked my fingers in his waistband.
“Getting antsy, baby?” I teased. “You’re so needy it’s making you shake. Is this what you want? To get stripped bare and fucked open, right here where you can’t hide a damn thing from me?”
“Please.”
His legs kicked free, toes curling in the sheets, as I hauled the denim all the way off and tossed it over my shoulder. “Daddy.”
“God, you’re perfect.” I bent, biting softly at his collarbone, sucking a mark into his skin. My thumb teased the head of his cock, smearing the pre-come up and down the length of his shaft. “Want me to make you lose it? Want me to ruin you for anyone else?”
“Already ruined.”
“Good fucking answer.”
I gripped his wrists with one strong hand, pinning them above his head. “Keep your hands there. Don’t move unless I tell you.”
He nodded, wide-eyed. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy.” My other hand slid down, teasing the inside of his thigh, nails scraping gently, just enough to make his muscles flutter beneath the skin. “Tell me what you need.”
“Want your mouth. Want your hands. Want you to fuck me. Please. I need to feel you.”
“Oh, you will,” I growled, a smile curving my lips as I kissed him, hard and deep. “You’re mine. Every fucking inch.”
I moved down, pressing kisses over his chest, sucking another bruise beneath his nipple, licking a path down his trembling stomach.
A stunned, choked sound tore from his throat when I blew across the tip of his cock. Pinching the base, I guided him to my waiting mouth, taking him deep in a single pull.
My cheeks hollowed around him, sucking hard. His thighs jerked, knees knocking against my shoulders.
His sweet, vanilla scent was everywhere—clinging to the air and in my fucking bedsheets. I pressed my nose to his skin, breathing in deep like I could draw him into my lungs and keep him there.
God, I wanted to get drunk on it.
Archie’s cock twitched against my cheek, the head rubbing messily at the corner of my mouth as I pulled back and let my tongue circle him.
“Don’t stop. Daddy.” His voice broke, hips rolling helplessly up to meet every pass of my mouth.
“That’s it.” I pulled off, stroking him with my hand, mouth just above the flushed head of his cock.“Let me hear you, baby. You make those pretty sounds just for me, don’t you?”
Archie’s hand darted out—desperate, needy, fingers reaching for my hair like he couldn’t stand the distance for even a second. I caught him mid-reach and forced his wrist back up, pinning it to the headboard. “Keep those hands where I put them.”
The sheets bunched as I moved down, wrapping my hands around his thighs and forcing his knees to his chest.
Fuck. Me.
“Prettiest hole I’ve ever seen,” I rumbled, bending down to lick a long, slow stripe over his entrance.
He fucking whimpered.
I took my sweet time, savoring every inch, tongue circling and teasing.
It wasn’t until he was gasping for air that I finally pulled away to reach for the lube in the drawer beside my bed. Snapping the cap, I squeezed some into my palm and rubbed my fingers together, warming it. “Gonna get you ready for me, baby.”
I traced the tips of two slick fingers around his hole, watching it flutter in anticipation. I pressed one finger into the first knuckle. He clenched down, then relaxed, hips rolling up for more.
“So fucking tight.” Pumping my finger, I added a second, scissoring them, working him open.
Archie writhed against my sheets, pushing back onto my fingers, greedy little noises escaping with every thrust.
“Fuck, you’re hungry for it,” I growled, voice rough with pride. “My greedy boy.”
“More. Please,” he gasped, hips stuttering against my hand.
“Not yet,” I whispered back, and he let out a sob.
“I know, baby. But you can do it, can’t you? Wait a little longer?”
Tears crested the corners of his eyes as I eased a third finger inside of him. Air punched out of him, head tossing against the pillow.
When he was open and slick, I slid my fingers out and slapped the head of my cock against his hole. “You ready, Rabbit?”
He was trembling so hard I had to hold him still. “Yes, Daddy. Please. I’m yours. Always.”
With one long, relentless thrust, I pushed inside, burying myself to the hilt. I had to grit my teeth not to lose it right there. The heat of him, the way his hole spasmed around my cock, was goddamn ecstasy.
His eyes found mine just as a tear raced down his temple. I bent, tongue flicking out, licking the salt away before it could disappear into the pillow.
“Fuck, I’m obsessed with you,” I growled against his cheek, hips rolling slow.
He keened, slapping his hands against my back, nails clawing at the muscles covering my shoulders.
“You broke a rule, sweetheart,” I rasped, grinning into the shell of his ear. “I’ll have to punish you later.”
He arched up into me. “Promises, promises.”
“Brat.”
I set a ruthless rhythm, hips snapping sharp, dragging a string of broken sounds out of him with every drive.
Nothing—nothing—had ever felt this good. The slide, the way he trembled under me, greedy for it, taking everything I gave him and begging for more.
My hands gripped his thighs, holding him wide, watching every flicker of pleasure chase across his face.
It was mine.
All mine.
“Look at me,” I panted, thumb tilting his chin so he couldn’t look away. “Let me see you. Come for me, baby. Come now.”
Archie’s back bowed off the mattress as his hand worked frantically over his cock. With a shattered gasp, he came hard—hot, thick stripes splattering across his stomach and chest.
The pleasure built between us, and when I finally let go, it hit like lightning—white-hot and all-consuming, cracking through my every nerve.
My toes curled, spine bowing tight as my vision went white at the edges. For a long, suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed to the heat of him and the wild surge of release.
I dropped my forehead to his, both of us shuddering through the aftershocks. For a moment, we just stayed there, pressed together, sweat slick and shaking.
“You okay?” I rasped, voice rough against his cheek.
Archie blinked at me, eyes dreamy and half-lidded, a lazy, blissed-out grin spreading across his face. “So okay,” he slurred. “Let’s do it again.”
A laugh broke out of me, and I pressed another kiss to his temple. “Give me ten minutes.”