“Fuck, princess.”
“I know they did a number on you, but you need to know they’re wrong. They’re wrong about you, Nicki.”
“Why are you so sure?” Nicki whispers, those blue eyes filled with so much pain, it physically hurts Andrew. He can’t undo what they did, but he sure as shit can love Nicki loudly for the rest of their lives. Maybe if he’s lucky, his voice will eventually drown out theirs.
“Because I love you. Because you and I, we’ve seen each other at our worst, and we still chose each other.”
“I’ll always choose you, princess.”
Andrew brings their foreheads together, brushing his lips against Nicki’s in a barely there kiss that has Nicki whimpering. “Do you promise?”
“I promise.” Nicki’s hand is at the back of Andrew’s head cradling it gently, possessively, as he brings their lips together for another kiss that’s searing in its desperation. Beneath him, Nicki trembles.
“Shh,” Andrew soothes, kissing Nicki again. “What do you need?”
“I need you.” Nicki’s hands are everywhere, roaming over his back then down to Andrew’s ass, as if he can physically pull Andrew inside his own body. “I need to touch you. To take care of you.Please.”
“Yes.”
“Mine,” Nicki utters like a prayer, rising from the bed and taking Andrew with him. Andrew’s legs wrap around Nicki’s waist as he’s carried to the bathroom.
“I want to forget. Help me forget, princess.”
Andrew skims his nails over the back of Nicki’s head. “You know I’m yours.”
Nicki nods, lowering Andrew’s ass onto the counter in the bathroom before dropping to his knees then reaching for Andrew’s shoes. Though Andrew can easily remove them himself, he suspects Nicki needs to be the one to do it. With intense concentration, Nicki carefully removes each shoe. He doesn’t stop there, cradling Andrew’s foot in his hand before slowly inching the sock off his left foot, going so far as to press a kiss to the inside of his ankle then the arch of his foot. He does the other side too, the tender attention rendering Andrew speechless.
He’s clearly in no hurry, resting his cheek against Andrew’s knee while he smooths his hands up and down Andrew’s calves beneath his dress pants. The touch seems to be as much for Andrew as it is Nicki, and Andrew slumps over, running his hands through Nicki’s hair, each of them soothing the other, and themselves with gentle touches.
The intimacy makes Andrew’s chest wobble. This right here is what he’s always craved. Not a fast burning fire, or a desperate passion in bed, just a steady quiet kind of love.
“I love you,” Andrew whispers.
“I love you,” Nicki echoes.
It takes Andrew by surprise at how calm the declaration makes him feel. He’s talked to his brothers about their relationships before, heard Alec’s explanations about the way he loves Theo—achingly and desperately—like he can’t bear to live without him. Or Jason who loves Emerson as big and open as he is. Or Charlie and Eden, whose love is in your face and loud like Charlie’s art.
This isn’t like that. His feelings for Nicki aren’t desperate or aching. It’s not consuming him, demanding he proclaim it to the world. It’s not messy or bold. It’s something different, something theirs and theirs alone. Something as steady and unmovable as the sea.
Loving Nicki is quiet, and for a man like Andrew whose brain never stops, it’s a welcome relief to find solace in another person. Nicki loves all of Andrew and that is steadying—his love there even when Andrew can’t touch it or see it. A place to return to. A safe haven.Home.
“Can I undress you?” Nicki questions, as if Andrew could deny him anything.
“Yes, Nicki.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, hands on Andrew’s hips to guide him off the sink and into a standing position. He makes quick work of Andrew’s pants then his suit jacket. He moves onto the shirt next, undoing every button like he’s unwrapping a present, kissing the skin he reveals. Pushing the shirt off his shoulders, he takes a step back, eying Andrew with obvious appreciation.
Were it anyone else, he’d balk under the attention, hyper aware of the places his sharp angles and extra softness around the middle aren’t considered conventionally attractive. Yet Nicki is looking at him like he’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. Under Nicki’s gaze, he feels perfect.
Not all the things the world told him or the things he told himself. Not broken. Not weird. Not difficult. Not hard to love. Just Andrew. Nicki’s Andrew. Nicki’s princess.
“I need to touch you.”
“You are touching me,” Andrew points out.
“It’s not enough,” Nicki grunts, hands roaming over Andrew’s chest to settle at his hips. His thumbs slip under the waistband of Andrew’s boxers, tugging those down, too.
Andrew’s not hard, not close, and tonight not in the mood. Not for that. There’s no insecurity when Nicki takes in his soft cock, no fear he’s going to disappoint, just a relief to be seen, to be known, to be wanted.
