He paused, his hand still on the door handle, his gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before lifting to meet mine. "Fine," he replied curtly, the word clipped, devoid of his usual warmth. Without another glance, he brushed past me toward the bathroom, the door shutting with a quiet finality that echoed louder than a slam.
I froze, my outstretched hand falling to my side, worry blooming into full-blown concern. "Fine?" That was all? After everything? What had his father said? Or was it something worse? I paced the living room, the plush rug muffling my steps, my mind racing. Should I give him space? Or should I push him for answers? The bathroom door was solid, a barrier I didn't want to breach if he needed time, but the silence from behind it was deafening.
Then, a crash, glass shattering, sharp and sudden, like a bottle exploding against tile. My heart leaped into my throat, fear spiking through me. "Keith!" I rushed to the door, my hand on the knob, but it wouldn't turn. The lock was engaged. "Keith? Are you okay?" My voice cracked, pounding lightly. But no answer. Just the faint sound of running water, then nothing. Panic bubbled up, memories of my own breakdowns flashing, the world narrowing to a pinpoint of terror. "Keith, please... say something. What's going on?"
Still silence. My hand trembled on the knob, tears pricking my eyes. I wanted to break it down, to hold him, but I knew that kind of intrusion could shatter him further. "I'm here," I said softly, pressing my forehead to the door. "Whenever you're ready, I'm here. Take your time."
I stepped back, my legs shaky, retreating to the living room couch, curling my knees to my chest, the nightgown bunching around my thighs. Worry gnawed at me, a relentless beast. Had his father said something about me? About Boris? The minutes stretched, eachone an eternity, the city's distant sirens mocking my helplessness. I hugged my arms around myself, trying to breathe through the fear, the feeling that had bloomed so quickly now tangled with this sharp worry.
Finally, after what felt like forever the door opened. Keith emerged, his face pale, eyes hollow, hair even messier, but it was his hands that stopped me cold-bloodied, knuckles split and raw, drying on his skin. "Keith!" I jumped up, rushing to him, my hands hovering before gently taking his to inspect the damage. "What happened? Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
He looked at me then, really looked, his expression a mix of exhaustion and something raw, unguarded sorrow so deep it stole my breath. "I'm fine," he said, his voice rough, but he didn't pull away, letting me hold his hands as if my touch was the only thing keeping him anchored.
"You're not fine," I whispered, my thumb brushing a cut on his knuckle, the blood sticky under my finger. "This looks bad. Come on, sit." I led him to the couch, my heart aching at how he let me guide him, his usual strength absent. In the bathroom, I saw the wreckage, the mirror shattered into jagged pieces, blood smears on the frame where his fist had connected. My stomach twisted, worry flooding me anew. How much pain was he carrying that it spilled out like this? I grabbed a clean towel from the rack, running it under warm water, the steam rising as I hurried back to him.
He sat there, staring at his hands, lost in whatever demons had driven him to this. I knelt before him, gently retaking his hand, dabbing the towel to the cuts, the area turning pink as I cleaned. "This might sting," I murmured, my touch careful, wiping awaythe blood, the towel soaking it up. "Why didn't you call for me? I could've helped."
He watched me, his eyes softening slightly, but the sorrow lingered, deep and unyielding. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, the bloodied one, with surprising gentleness, pulling me up and into his arms. He hugged me tightly, his face buried in my hair, his body trembling slightly as he held on like I was his lifeline. The blood from his knuckles smeared across my gown, staining the silk in dark red splotches. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his heartbeat thunder against my chest, his breath ragged against my neck.
We stayed like that, the world narrowing to the press of our bodies, the quiet sobs he muffled into my shoulder. When we broke the hug, his hands cupped my face, his gaze locking onto mine, and I saw it then. The depth of his sorrow. Eyes that usually burned with confidence were stormy, haunted, lines of pain etching his face.
His thumbs brushed my cheeks, leaving faint red streaks from the blood, but it felt intimate, like he was claiming me as his in this vulnerable moment. He brought his hand to caress my face, tracing the line of my jaw, then his thumb ran over my lips, smearing a hint of blood there, the metallic tang mixing with the salt of my tears I wasn’t aware I shed. He touches me like he owns me. And I love how much I want him to.
I leaned in without thinking, kissing him softly, tasting him. The faint smoke of his cigar, and the coppery iron of his blood. The kiss was slow, tender, not the passionate fires we'd ignited before, but something deeper, more raw. His lips moved against mine with a gentleness that broke my heart, his hand cradling the back of myhead, the other still on my cheek, our breaths mingling in soft sighs.
It was a kiss born of pain, of understanding the fractures in each other's souls, the kind that healed as much as it hurt. His tongue brushed mine lightly, a tentative exploration, and I responded in kind, my fingers threading through his messy hair, pulling him closer, the world fading to just us two wounded hearts seeking solace in the quiet.
The kiss deepened gradually, not with urgency but with emotion, his lips trailing to my jaw, my neck, nipping softly as his hands slid down my back, pulling me onto his lap. The pants he wore were loose, but I felt him harden beneath me, the evidence of his desire pressing against my thigh through the nightgown. My own body responded, a slow burn building. But it wasn't about frenzy. It was about connection, about erasing the pain with touch. "Keith," I whispered against his mouth, my hands pushing his shirt up, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the scar beneath my fingers a reminder of battles past.
"My Maneskin," he murmured, his voice breaking with a raw edge, his hands trembling as they lifted the hem of my silk nightgown, the fabric whispering against my skin as he slid it up my thighs. His touch was reverent, fingertips grazing the soft flesh with a tenderness that sent a shiver through me, my nipples hardening beneath the thin material, tight and aching under his gaze.
He noticed, his eyes darkening with desire, a soft groan escaping his lips as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my collarbone. I could feel the heat of him, the hard length of his cock pressing against my thigh through his pants, growing firmer with every passing second, a silent promise of what was to come.
He kissed me again, slower this time, his tongue tracing the curve of mine, teasing and deliberate, while his fingers found my core, brushing against the damp heat there. I was already wet, slick with want, and his touch was gentle. He was circling my clit with a light pressure that drew sharp gasps from my throat. He watched my face, his eyes locked on mine, memorizing every flutter, every moan.
"I need you," he breathed, his voice thick with longing as he eased me back onto the plush velvet of the couch, his body covering mine, the weight of him grounding, comforting, yet igniting a restless hunger deep within me.
He paused, his hands deftly unfastening his pants, freeing himself. I felt his cock against my inner thigh, hard and heavy, the tip already slick as he guided himself to my entrance. He entered me slowly, inch by torturous inch, the stretch almost painful yet laced with an enticing hunger that burned through me, a heat that coiled tight in my core. My body yielded to him, every nerve alight as he filled me, the sensation so intimate it stole my breath. Our eyes remained locked, his gaze fierce yet tender, reflecting the same vulnerability I felt.
"You feel like home," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he began to move, each thrust languid and deliberate, the friction stoking a slow, smoldering fire deep within me.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, my hands roaming his back, nails grazing lightly over taut muscle, feeling the ripple of tension beneath his skin. Our rhythms synced, a shared heartbeat pulsing between us, every movement fluid, instinctive. His cock slid deeper with each thrust, the drag of him inside me both exquisite and overwhelming, my inner walls clenching around him as the pleasure built. My nipples, still hard,brushed against his chest through the bunched fabric of my nightgown, sending sparks of sensation straight to my core.
The kiss never fully broke, our lips brushing, breaths mingling in shallow, desperate pants as the tension coiled tighter, a tide rising steadily. The pleasure wasn’t explosive but relentless, cresting in waves that left my body trembling beneath him. I came first, a soft cry muffled against the warm curve of his neck, my core clenching tight around him, pulsing with release. The sensation tipped him over the edge, and he followed with a low, vulnerable groan, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside me, each shudder of his body a surrender that mirrored my own, binding us in the quiet intensity of the moment.
We lay there, entwined, breaths slowing, the room quiet except for our heartbeats. His arm draped over my waist, heavy and protective, his fingertips brushing my skin in absent, soothing patterns.
Time blurred. Minutes, maybe longer, passed in silence. That soft, intimate kind until he shifted beside me. Not abruptly, but with a tension that hadn’t been there before.
“Aurelia,” he murmured.
I hummed, my cheek resting against his shoulder.
He hesitated. Just for a breath. Then—quiet, controlled, but edged with something darker. "I saw Boris there today," he said quietly, his voice rough from emotion.
I tensed, the name a trigger, my body stiffening in his arms. "What?"
He smoothed my hair, his touch grounding. "Don't worry. I handled it. He won't come near you again. You're safe with me, Aurelia. Always. No matter what."
