The words shattered what was left of my control.
I fucked him harder. Faster. One hand wrapped around him, stroking in time with my thrusts. The other gripped his hip, holding him exactly where I wanted him.
"Mine," I growled. "Say it."
"Yours." His voice broke. "All yours. Only yours."
"That's right. Mine to protect. Mine to keep. Mine to fuck until you forget your own name."
He was trembling. Getting close. I could feel it in the way his body tensed. Hear it in his desperate sounds.
"Matteo—I'm going to—please—"
"Come for me." I thrust harder. Deeper. "Let go. Show me you're mine."
Stefan shattered with a cry that was my name and a prayer all at once. His body clenched around me, milking my cock. I felt him pulse in my hand as he came.
The sight and sound and feel of him falling apart destroyed what was left of my control. I drove deep and came hard, filling him. Claiming him in the most primal way possible.
We collapsed together. Both breathing hard. Both overwhelmed.
I pulled out carefully and turned Stefan over. Needed to see his face. Needed to make sure he was okay. That I hadn't been too rough or too possessive or too much.
His green eyes were glazed. Satisfied. Happy in a way I'd never seen before.
"That was..." He trailed off. Laughed breathlessly. "Intense."
"Too much?"
"No." He pulled me down for a kiss. "Perfect. Exactly what I needed."
But I saw something flicker across his face. Something complicated.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I loved it," he admitted. "When you were saying I was yours. When you were claiming me like that. I loved every second of it." He paused. "Should that worry me? That I love being claimed? Being possessed? Being told I belong to someone?"
It was a good question. One I'd asked myself about my own possessiveness.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe it should. Maybe we're both fucked up in ways that make this work." I brushed his hair back from his face. "But I don't care. I want you. Want to claim you. Want everyone to know you're mine. And if thatmakes me possessive and obsessive and probably unhealthy, so be it."
"And I want to be claimed," Stefan said quietly. "Want to belong to you. Want to feel like I matter enough for someone to fight for me. To protect me. To tell the world I'm theirs." He met my eyes. "Even though I know that's probably not healthy either."
"We're a mess," I observed.
"A complete disaster," he agreed.
"But we're figuring it out."
"Yeah." He kissed me softly. "We are."
I cleaned us both up with a warm washcloth. Stefan protested weakly but let me take care of him. Afterwards, I pulled him close. His head resting on my chest. My arms wrapped around him protectively.
"Matteo?" His voice was quiet.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For tonight. For claiming me publicly. For making me feel like I belong somewhere." He paused. "I know it's complicated. I know I'm probably developing unhealthy attachment patterns or Stockholm syndrome or whatever psychologists would call this. But I'm choosing it anyway. Choosing you."
