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Now you were talking animatedly with another man, gesturing excitedly about whatever crap that guy was saying to you. You didn't even realize the predatory look of the person you were talking to and that made your boyfriend so irritated. Damn, you were so good that you couldn't even see the malice in the eyes of the disgusting men who surrounded you. Andrew knew he couldn't act impulsively, go up to you and grab your waist or simply punch that idiot's jaw and stop him from talking to his girl.

No, he changed for you. Andrew took a deep breath and counted to ten, a breathing exercise he was accustomed to in those moments or situations that made him tense. You were the lifeline that pulled him out of the darkness, the sun that illuminated his days of darkness, and Pope Cody would not let his only happiness slip through his hands like slippery sand.

Since you met, about a year and a half ago, you had always been sweet to the older man. Treating him well, respectfully and cautiously, respecting his time and space, letting the rigid and distrustful man blossom like a flower under the sunlight. You knew about his past, you knew the family he had and the darkness his surname carried, but you learned to love him, to respect him, to embrace him and realize that he could be understood and, above all, truly loved, without pressure or blackmail.

Andrew thought it was because of this exacerbated understanding of yours towards him that made him so obsessed with you, with your well-being and safety. Cody was always surveying you, you knew it even if you didn't see it, after all he was almost a protective little dog and despite everything you adored his peculiar way of providing security.

It was for this reason that out of the corner of your eyes you saw your boyfriend's movement towards you, the straight posture highlighting the muscles compressed by the tight black shirt he wore, the closed expression that made you drool in indecent places and damn, he didn't take his eyes off you, you felt the heat rising under your nape with his gaze on you.

When the older man was close enough, he wrapped his large, rough palm around your waist, squeezing lightly as he pulled you backwards, crashing your back against his broad, firm chest. You sighed when he bent down enough for his breath to make the little hairs behind your ear stand on end. He looked firmly at the man who was talking to you, while whispering just for you to hear.

"Everything okay over here, darling?" He asked hoarsely, his body pressing more against yours and making you want to tremble. You just nodded positively, afraid to open your mouth and moan softly at the possessive and territorial way he held you.

The man in front of you, whose name you had already forgotten, if you had even really heard it amidst your animated chatter about trips or cars, saw what was happening in front of him. His eyes, previously shining with an interest that you naively mistook for mere friendliness, now faltered. The predatory confidence he emanated moments before evaporated like smoke upon encountering the silent and implacable wall that was Pope Cody.

"Ah, yes, of course" the man stammered, taking an involuntary step back. The hand he had raised, about to touch your arm to emphasize some foolish point of the conversation, fell inert at his side. "We were just... I mean, she's your...?"

He let the question die in the air, without the courage to complete the sentence. He didn't dare use a term like "friend" or "acquaintance." The way Andrew held you, with the silent possession of someone holding something precious, left no doubt, you were not just an acquaintance or a friend.

You were an extension of him, a territory marked not by words, but by the unequivocal body language he displayed over you.

Andrew didn't answer, didn't blink, nor did he look away. He just sustained the eye contact with the stranger, his expression sculpted in granite, his jaw clenched and thin lips compressed into a straight line. His silence was more eloquent and terrifying than any verbal threat, after all, it was a silence that spoke of a past you had helped to bury, an echo of a man who didn't negotiate, only took. The stranger, finally, got the message and with a brusque nod and an unintelligible murmur of apology, turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd of the event, a rat fleeing the shadow of a bird of prey.

Only then, when the threat had dissipated, did Andrew's hand on your waist relax minimally and the pressure that had previously kept you anchored against his chest transformed into a slow and deliberate caress. His fingers traced a path of fire over the thin fabric of your dress, rising along the curve of your waist and then descending to your hip bone, where he let them rest, warm and heavy, like a mark. You couldn't avoid the slight arching of your back, an almost imperceptible movement that pressed you even more against him. A shiver of pure anticipation snaked down your spine, a mixture of relief and excitement.

"You attract moths to the flame, don't you, my love?" His voice vibrated against the shell of your ear, a rough whisper that was meant to be felt, not just heard. The words were a soft growl, laden with a dark adoration. He didn't blame you. The fault, in his distorted mind, lay with the insects that felt drawn to your brightness. He just saw himself in the eternal role of guardian, ready to ward off those who dared to get too close. "So good... so generous with that smile. And they, idiots, mistake your kindness for an invitation."

You turned your face slowly, the tip of your nose brushing the strong line of his jaw. The unique citrusy scent of his skin enveloped you, a perfume you had forever associated with safety and desire. Your lips almost touched the corner of his mouth as you murmured, your voice a trembling thread of contained pleasure. "You know it's with you I want to be, Andy. Only with you."

Andy. Never Pope or Andrew, to you he was your Andy.

The admission, simple and sincere, seemed to untie something inside him as a deep sigh, which sounded more like a grunt of satisfaction, escaped his lips.

"I know, darling" he replied, his voice still hoarse, but now tinged with a vulnerability that only you had the privilege of witnessing. "That's why I... I just need to be sure. Need to remind myself. And remind them."

The "remind them" was not an empty promise, but a fact consummated with every withering look, every possessive touch. It was the primitive and absolute way with which he loved, a love that terrified him and completed him in equal measures. He pulled away enough so you could turn around, standing face to face with him, but still confined within the protective circle of his arms. His eyes, of that deep and stormy blue, roamed your face as if reading the pages of a sacred book, memorizing every detail, the brightness in your eyes, the slight blush on your cheeks, the way your lips were parted.

"You have no idea what you do to me" he confessed, his voice so low it seemed more like a thought that had escaped from the cages of his self-control. He raised one hand and, with a delicacy that contrasted brutally with the hardness of his body and his reputation, touched your face. The backs of his fingers, calloused and rough, slid along the soft skin of your cheek in a breathtaking caress. "I lived so long in the dark... And then you appeared, my love. Like the dawn, so gradual, patient and inevitable. You didn't try to fix me, you simply... stayed. You saw me entirely and didn't run away."

His voice broke on the last word. The raw emotion in his confession made your heart clench and, at the same time, expand. You covered his hand with yours, keeping it pressed against your face, turning your face to kiss the rough palm. The gesture, so pure and full of affection, made Andrew's pupils dilate, the brownish-green mixture almost completely swallowed by a black of desire and devotion.

"You are my proof that there is something good in the world, and by some miracle, that goodness chose me" he continued, his forehead inclining to touch yours. Your noses touched and the air you shared became rarefied, charged with electricity. "So, yes, I'm going to stay here. I'm going to be the shadow that follows you, the guard dog that growls at anyone who dares to look at you. Because you gave me a second chance and I'm going to spend every second of it ensuring that you feel so safe, so loved, that the idea of belonging to any other world that isn't ours, together, never even crosses your mind."

He paused, his thumb caressing your cupid's bow with hypnotic slowness. A small, dangerous smile, the smile of the predator who found his prey, curved his lips.

"Let's get out of here." It wasn't a request, but a soft command, a command that promised a world of sensations. "I want to feel you close to me, just for me. Today, tomorrow, and always."

The secluded corner where you were was left behind, the people at that party becoming mere blurs the moment Andrew guided you out. All your senses were monopolized by him. Your Andy.

He spun you with an unexpected fluidity for a man of his size, and when he brought you back very close, it was to hold you against himself in a way that left no space for air, much less for any remnant of social decorum. One of his large hands spread on the lower part of your back, the pressure firm and possessive, his fingers insinuating themselves dangerously on the curve where your spine ended, both of you walking away from everyone.

"I don't like sharing your attention" he murmured against your side, his voice a low thunder that reverberated directly in your stomach. "It drives me crazy. Makes me want things I promised myself I wouldn't do anymore." The hand on your back slid and the daring thumb pressed your covered dermis with a firmness that was almost a reprimand. "Primitive things. Things civilized men don't do."

He guided you in a slow movement, his body moving against yours in a way that simulated an intimacy much deeper than the walk to the other end of the room allowed. His muscular thigh insinuated itself between yours, a tangled embrace but so certain that it was questionable the way you moved as if you were one and the friction of the dress fabric against your skin made you hold your breath.

Andrew noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed every tremor, every sigh, every drop of sweat that sprouted on your nape and the older man fed on your reactions.

"You like it when I talk like that, don't you, darling?" he asked, his voice tinged with a malice that made your face burn. His mouth descended to your temple, depositing a kiss there, warm and lingering. "You like it when I forget the rules and show you the man that still exists inside here. The dirty man."

Cody's lips brushed the curve of your ear and the following words were a profane whisper, a stark contrast to the refined environment around you. "I constantly think about how your skin gets marked under my fingers and everyone sees that you are mine. I think about the sounds you make when you forget to be polite. I think about these beautiful breasts that make me absolutely dumb with desire."

The hand that was on your back rose slowly up your side, his fingers spread, palpating each rib through the fabric until the edge of his thumb brushed, with devastating precision, the lower curve of your breast. It was not an accidental touch, perhaps it was a promise. His breathing became irregular, while an almost inaudible grunt vibrated in his throat and Cody felt the soft weight against his hand, even through the barrier of the dress.

"I would want to spend hours here" he confessed, his voice heavy with an obscene adoration. "Just looking. Just touching. The way they fit in my hand, as if they had been made for me. So soft. So perfect." His thumb moved in a slow and deliberate arc, brushing the exact point where the lace of the bra created a rise under the satin.

You bit your lower lip hard, a futile attempt to contain the moan that threatened to escape. The sensation was exacerbated by the certainty that you were in public, even if more secluded, surrounded by strangers who had no idea of the fire he was lighting in you.

Andrew smiled against your skin, a smile of pure predatory satisfaction. "That's it. Hold the sound for me. Because later, when we're alone, I want to hear all of them. I want you to scream, if necessary. But now, in this moment, your pleasure is mine. Only mine."

He spun you one more time, and when he brought you back to him, you were in a darker corner of the hall, partially hidden by a column and a cascade of floral arrangements. His hand moved from your hip to your nape, his fingers tangling in the hair there, pulling your head back with a firm gentleness that made you expose your throat to him. Andrew's eyes, stormy and hungry, devoured the line of your neck.

"I'm so afraid of losing you" he whispered, and the sudden vulnerability in his voice, mixed with the rawness of desire, was heartbreaking. He kissed you at the base of your throat, a light suction that he soon soothed with his tongue, as if apologizing for the mark he might leave. "This fear consumes me. I need you like I need air. It's desperate and... And it's the only truth I have."

He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his hand still on your nape, the other now resting on your racing heart, feeling the erratic beats. "Tell me you're mine. Say it now. I need to hear your voice saying the words."

The raw plea, uttered by that man so powerful and restrained, undid any defense you might still have had. You raised your hands to frame his face, your thumbs caressing the visage marked by life. "I am yours, Andrew. Body and soul. Every piece of me belongs to you."

What happened in his eyes was a controlled implosion. The stormy greenish-brown was flooded by a black wave of possession and relief. He took your mouth in a kiss that was everything but civilized. There was no hesitation, only a voracious and insatiable hunger where his tongue invaded your mouth with urgency. Pope kissed you as if he were trying to find salvation in the depths of your soul, a drowning man who finally found the surface, and in the silence of that corner, cradled by each other's presence, the world outside could wait.

The kiss was broken only by the pressing need for air, but Andrew didn't pull away from you. On the contrary. He remained with his forehead glued to yours, the panting and hot breath mixing with yours, his eyes half-closed as he tried to recover some remnant of control. Control that crumbled with every little tremor that ran through his body, with every accelerated beat of your heart that he still felt.

"I won't be able to wait until we get home" he admitted, his voice so hoarse and deep that it seemed to scrape your skin like fine sandpaper.

He took your hand with urgency, his long fingers intertwining with yours with an almost desperate firmness. Without saying anything else, Andrew led you outside, he didn't look to the sides, didn't care about the curious looks or the raised eyebrows. The world could be on fire and he wouldn't have noticed, because all his attention was focused solely on you.

Andrew took you to a wide staircase that led to the upper floors, your steps echoed on the polished marble, a sound muffled by the music that was getting more and more distant. With each step, the expectation grew, dense and electric, like the air before a summer storm.

You felt the heat of his hand on yours, the pressure of his fingers that was at the same time possessive and comforting, as if he feared you might evaporate if he let you go for even a second.

Despite the neediness, insecurities, and problems, Andrew Cody was a calculating man, a born strategist, and planning an escape route to have you all to himself was as natural to him as breathing. The hallway on the top floor was lined with a thick carpet that completely muffled the steps, the walls adorned with golden light fixtures that projected soft and intimate shadows. Everything was silence and penumbra, a stark contrast to the brightness and bustle of the floor below. Andrew stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway and took the keycard from the inside pocket of his suit jacket with an agility that betrayed his anxiety.

He unlocked the door and opened it, but instead of simply letting you pass, he pulled you inside with him, his arms enveloping you even before the door closed completely. The sound of the latch clicking into place was muffled by the sound of your panting breath when he pressed you against the solid wood surface.

"Finally" he whispered against your lips, his voice laden with a relief so profound it was almost painful. "No interruptions. Just you and me and everything I want to do to you."

Andrew didn't wait for an answer. His mouth captured yours in a kiss that was everything but delicate. It was a dirty kiss, messy, desperate. His tongue invaded your mouth without asking permission, tangling with yours in a primitive and wet dance. There was too much saliva, teeth, and a hunger so absolute that you felt your knees buckle.

Andrew noticed and used his own body to keep you standing, his hip fitting perfectly against yours, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against your belly in a way that tore a muffled moan from your throat.

His hands didn't stay still. While he kissed you with that devastating intensity, his agile fingers began to work on the buttons of your dress. But the patience, which he had been cultivating with so much effort throughout the entire night, finally ran out. With a grunt of frustration against your lips, he simply pulled the fabric hard, and the sound of the buttons coming loose and bouncing on the wooden floor was muffled by your exclamation of surprise.

"Sorry" he murmured, but there was no regret in his voice, only a raw and animalistic satisfaction. "I'll buy another one. I'll buy a hundred more. But now I need to see you. I need to touch you. Please, let me touch you."

The plea in his voice, mixed with the confession of his almost painful need, made something inside you melt. You let him push the dress off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your arms and pooling at your feet in a puddle of satin. Andrew took a step back, just enough so his eyes could roam your body now exposed only to the soft light entering through the window.

He remained still for a moment, his breath suspended as his pupils dilated in a way that almost swallowed the iris. Andrew looked at you like a starving man before a banquet, like a devotee before an altar, like a castaway who had finally sighted land.

"My God" he whispered, his voice choked with an almost religious reverence. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. And I don't deserve you. I know I don't deserve you. But I'm going to spend every second of this night trying to get close to being worthy."

He knelt before you. Andrew Cody, the man who made grown men tremble with a single look, who had spent years in prison, built on orders and fear, knelt at your feet like a subject before his queen. His large, calloused hands slid up your legs, from your ankles to your thighs, his fingers tangling in the thin straps of your panties.

"Everything about you is perfect" he murmured, his lips depositing open kisses on every inch of skin he revealed as he pushed the intimate piece aside. "Every curve. Every detail. Every little piece of this body."

He kissed the inside of your thighs, your hip bone, and raised his eyes to you. There was an intensity in that look that was almost unbearable, a mixture of adoration, desire, and something deeper, something that bordered on obsession. He didn't look away while he kissed the inside of your thigh again. He didn't look away while his tongue traced a wet and warm path over your skin, he didn't look away when his mouth finally found your center, his lips closing a little below the mons veneris, with a precision that tore a muffled moan from your throat.

"It's..." he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice reverberating on your most sensitive spot. "It's this sound that I want to hear. It's like this that I want you for me, my love."

What followed was a slow and meticulous torture. Andrew was in no hurry and savored you as if it were the first and the last meal of his life, his tongue tracing elaborate patterns that brought you to the edge of the abyss and then pulled you back, only to start all over again. His fingers joined the dance, first one, then two, filling you with a rhythmic pressure that matched perfectly with the movements of his mouth.

The hand that held the panties aside, pulled the delicate cloth down and removed it completely from your body. His hungry mouth returning to your dripping center as his rough palms moved up your body, finding your breast and pulling the fabric down with an impatience that contrasted with the meticulousness of what he was doing between your legs, groping the breast so his fingers could massage it, pinch it, venerate it.

"They are so beautiful" he murmured, pulling away only enough to speak, his chin shining with the evidence of the pleasure he was giving you.

With each caress, each touch, Andrew undid the barriers of your body with a patience that bordered on the sacred. Kneeling before you like a devotee he kept his eyes fixed on yours, observing every reaction, every tremor, every little muscle that contracted under the implacable attention of his mouth and his fingers. The sounds that escaped your lips were music to his ears. Every muffled moan, every choppy sigh, every time you held your breath and then released it in a trembling lament, Andrew absorbed it all as if they were the notes of a symphony composed just for him. He felt your taste on his tongue, a flavor he had been addicted to since the first time and that was now as essential as the air he breathed.

Your soft texture against his lips, the moist heat that received him, the way your body responded to his every movement was a sensory experience so overwhelming that it made him forget his own name. Feeling himself getting harder and harder knowing he was giving you pleasure.

"So beautiful," Cody murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating in waves of pleasure that ran through your entire body. His fingers descended once more and now pressed inside you, curved in a movement he already knew by heart, a precise gesture that made you arch your back and dig your nails into his shoulders. "So perfect. So mine."

His free hand went up your side, spreading over your ribcage, feeling each of your breaths as if it were the beating of a frightened bird's wings. His thumb caressed the lower curve of your breast, a light touch that contrasted with the intensity of what his mouth was doing further down. He wanted to feel everything. Every texture, every reaction, every drop of pleasure that came out of you.

With a few more thrusts of his fingers and licks on your slippery folds, you finally came apart against his mouth, a muffled scream escaping through the lips you were biting hard, but of course Andrew didn't stop.

He accompanied you through the waves of pleasure, prolonging each second, sucking your clit and drinking every drop of you like a man who had crossed the desert and finally found an oasis, thrusting his thick fingers, coated with your pleasure, with increasing intensity. Only when your knees gave way and he had to support you with his strong arms did he pull away, his lips shining and his eyes dark with a proud satisfaction.

"I'm here, darling" he whispered, getting up and taking you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.

Pope carried you to the bed and laid you down on the mattress with a reverence that contrasted with the urgency that still pulsed between his legs and vibrated throughout his body. For a moment, he remained there, hovering over you, his eyes roaming your naked body with an adoration so intense it was almost palpable. The soft light drew shadows on the curves of your body, highlighting every detail he loved almost sickly.

"I could spend hours just looking at you" he confessed, his voice hoarse and low, his fingers went to his own shirt with precise movements, but without haste. "I could spend the whole night worshiping every inch of you and it still wouldn't be enough."

The shirt fell to the floor, revealing the muscular torso marked by old scars and freckles that told stories of a past you had helped bury. The muscles contracted when he got rid of his pants and the last piece of clothing, completely revealing the extent of the desire he felt for you. So virile, with that hardness and heat, an impressive contrast with the vulnerability that shone in his eyes whenever they met yours.

Andrew climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he positioned himself over you, his forearms resting beside your head and his body covering yours like a protective shield. Always so protective. His warm skin against yours was a balm and a torment at the same time, each point of contact a small explosion of pleasure that made your body shudder.

"I love you" the older man said, the words coming out with a disarming simplicity. There was no calculation in them, there were no ulterior motives. It was just the truth, naked and raw, offered to you as an offering. "I love you in a way that sometimes scares me. In a way that makes me want to be a better man, even knowing I will never be good enough for you."

Andrew lowered himself and kissed your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. He kissed your lips with a tenderness that contrasted with the position you were in, with his body pressing yours against the mattress, with the unmistakable evidence of his desire rubbing against your damp thigh from the previous orgasm.

"You saved me" he continued, his lips moving to your neck, depositing open kisses along the warm column of your throat. "You saw me at my worst and decided to stay. You gave me a reason to believe that I could be more than my past, more than my surname, more than my mistakes."

As he spoke, his hand descended your body, his calloused fingers finding your center once more, but now with a different purpose. He wanted to feel if you were ready for him, wanted to make sure he wouldn't hurt you. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he still couldn't believe he had permission to touch you like this.

"Are you ready for me, my love?" he asked, his voice laden with a controlled expectation. His eyes found yours, seeking confirmation, seeking permission, seeking the certainty that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. "Can I...?"

When you nodded, unable to form coherent words in the face of the intensity of that moment, something transformed in his eyes. The careful restraint gave way to a devastating hunger, a need so profound it was almost painful to witness. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his throbbing member brushing your wetness, and then began to enter you slowly, inch by inch, as if he were memorizing every contraction, every texture, every little sound that escaped your lips.

The world around you dissolved. There was nothing else, there were no more people, there was nothing else but the two of you and the connection that united you in such a deep and visceral way. Andrew filled you completely, a hoarse moan escaping his throat when he finally settled fully inside your body. He remained still for a moment, his forehead resting on yours, his panting breath mixing with yours. His eyes closed, as if he were trying to engrave that sensation in his memory forever.

He began to move. The movements were slow and deep, each thrust a silent declaration of love, claim, and belonging. He was in no hurry and wanted to prolong that moment for as long as possible, wanted to feel every contraction of you around him, every tremor that ran through your body, every fingernail that dug into his back.

His hands roamed your body with an almost religious reverence. His fingers traced the curves of your breasts, descended along your waist, grabbed your hips with a controlled strength that left marks he would kiss later, apologizing for each one. His mouth found yours in kisses that alternated between the purest tenderness and the most absolute hunger, between love and obsession, between devotion and possession. Sometimes your breaths collided hindered by your needy moans, your head turning to the side while your body was propelled deliciously upwards, in a precise rite inside you that felt every vein and pulse of Andrew's cock.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice trembling with contained pleasure. "Do you feel how we fit together perfectly? As if you were made for me?"

The rhythm increased even more. The sound of skin meeting filled the room, mixing with the muffled moans and the words of love he whispered against your skin. Each thrust was deeper than the last, each movement more urgent, each breath more panting. Andrew loved you with all his body, with all his soul, with all the intensity of a man who had spent too long in the darkness and now refused to let go of the light he had found.

"I want to fill you" he confessed, his voice a rough whisper against the shell of your ear, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful need. The movements became more erratic, less controlled, as the tension accumulated at the base of his spine. "I want to feel you from the inside. I want to leave a part of me in you. I want you to know, to feel, to never forget that you are mine."

Your fingers found his, intertwining over the sheet and extending upwards, your thighs wrapped around Cody's waist and squeezing him closer to you, the hairs at the base of Andy's hard cock, wet with pre-cum, rasping against your sensitive clit. Your faces close and panting, you saw your boyfriend's neck and ears in a reddish tone of pleasure.

"Look at me" he pleaded, his voice breaking into a supplication. "Please, my love. I want to see your eyes when you cum for me. I want to see you come undone."

The tension inside you built, grew, expanded until it became unbearable. Every movement of him inside you, every word of love whispered against your skin, every touch of his calloused fingers on the most sensitive points of your body pushed you closer and closer to the abyss. Your body, acting on its own, pressed against his and the wet slaps of your skins meeting became louder and more obscene. When you finally came, when the pleasure exploded in waves that ran through every nerve of your body, Andrew was there to support you.

"That's it, my love," he whispered, his voice choked with an emotion that went far beyond physical pleasure. "Just like that. Let go. I'm here. I'll always be here."

He watched you with an adoration that bordered on fanaticism. You tightening around him while your fingers loosened from Andrew's hands to scratch the older man's muscular back, squeezing and pulling him to you, red welts forming on his tanned and freckled skin.

Every sound that escaped your lips were treasures he kept in his memory. His eyes roamed your face with an almost painful reverence, as if he were witnessing something sacred, something he didn't deserve, but that was given to him anyway.

"So beautiful" he murmured, his voice broken. "So perfect. So mine."

And then, when he could no longer contain himself, when the pleasure became unbearable and the need to surrender completely to you overcame any remnant of control, Andrew allowed himself to fall too. He sank into you with one last deep movement, a hoarse moan escaping his throat as he spilled everything he had inside you. The warmth of the liquid filled you completely, an intimate and primitive sensation that united you in a way that transcended the physical.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, the words choppy from the spasms of pleasure that still ran through his body. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

He repeated those words like a mantra, like a prayer, like a promise. Each declaration was accompanied by a kiss, a touch, a caress. He remained inside you for long minutes, reluctant to separate, to break that connection that united you in such a deep and complete way.

When he finally lay down beside you, he pulled you close, his arms enveloping your body as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His head found shelter in the curve of your neck, his warm breath caressing your skin as he slowly returned to reality. His fingers traced distracted patterns on your back, an automatic gesture that soothed him as much as it soothed you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice still hoarse, but now tinged with genuine concern. His eyes found yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. "Wasn't I... too rough?"

The question was so incongruent with the man he was to the rest of the world that it almost made you smile. Andrew Cody, the man who made grown men tremble with a single look, worried about being too rough in bed. But this was the version of him that only you knew and it was this version that you loved with every fiber of your being.

"You were perfect" you replied, your voice still a little shaky. "You always are perfect, Andy."

Something shone in his eyes. It wasn't just satisfaction or male pride. It was something deeper, more vulnerable. It was the gratitude of a man who had spent his entire life believing he didn't deserve to be loved and who now found himself faced with irrefutable proof that he was wrong.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you" he murmured, his fingers still tracing patterns on your back. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy. Trying to make you happy. Trying to be the man you deserve."

Ele beijou sua testa, suas pálpebras, a ponta do seu nariz. Beijou seus lábios com uma ternura que contrastava com a intensidade do que vocês acabavam de compartilhar. E quando finalmente se acomodou ao seu lado, seus braços ainda envolvendo seu corpo como um escudo protetor, ele sussurrou contra sua pele as mesmas palavras que repetiria até o fim de seus dias.

"I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.".

His body moved against yours with a precision that bordered on cruelty, each thrust calculated to extract exactly the reaction he wanted from you. Andrew's fingers dug deep into your thighs, keeping them open and vulnerable as he buried himself deeper, in a rhythm that oscillated between frenzy and torturous slowness.

"So tasty..." his voice came out rough against your ear, warm. "All mine... only mine..."

You arched your back, your nails scratching his broad back in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself to something as pleasure threatened to dismantle every bone in your body. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, like a curse, like everything and nothing at the same time. Andrew Cody was a man who occupied every space: the room, the bed, your breath, and your soul.

You could smell both of you in the air, hear the slapping sound of skin colliding, and the blunt tip of his heavy, swollen member pressing against your deepest, most needy spot. Your thighs trembled and you felt your orifice contract from the sheer pleasure the man was giving you. You rolled your eyes as the nails of your right hand scratched Andrew's muscular shoulders.

"Ah! Ah! FUCK!" your voice was hoarse, completely surrendered and delivered to the moment. Your lubrication dripped and stained the sheet that Cody would clean later in that obsessive ritual he had, but now nothing mattered. For Andrew, having you underneath him, a crying, delicious mess, was all that mattered, while your dripping vagina squeezed his turgid member.

Andrew's large hands slid from your thigh to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh that bounced with each thrust. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated with pleasure as his curls bobbed hanging over his forehead. God, you were so hot and he loved you, loved you more than anything in the world.

You moaned loudly and squeezed Andrew, pleasure building at the base of your belly. You didn't even care anymore if Andrew's brothers or mother heard your scandal, all that mattered was how well he was fucking you.

"Touch me... Touch me... Andy"

And, like the good little dog he was, Andrew obeyed. He moved his hands from your breasts down your waist, squeezing your soft, warm skin, moaning when you arched at the touch, your movements erratic as he touched you with such devotion.

His hand flattened on your abdomen, his thick cock entering and exiting you, exploring and claiming your being from the inside. Andrew bit his lips, moaning at your delicious, needy sounds.

Then his palm kept sliding down to your mons pubis, where it was warm and exploratory, his fingers caressing your swollen clit, drooling from your own obscenity. When Cody's finger touched that little spot and you squeezed him brutally, he almost came inside you.

"Fuck, darling... Like that I'm going to come" he complained weakly, trying to control his breathing as you writhed. The older man's molasses eyes watched you, gripping the sheets beside your head, tangled locks and sweat dripping down your forehead. He wanted to lick you all over, but not now. Now he wanted to feel your insides contracting, sucking his dripping member inside you, he wanted you to beg for his cum.

"So tasty, I'm so lucky... Fuck" Cody was in ecstasy, his fingers making skillful movements on your clit. You screamed and tried to close your legs again, receiving once more the sting of a reprimanding slap.

"Open for me, angel... Open wide..."

He thrust harder, holding your hips as he fucked you senseless. Both of your orgasms approaching.

Andrew's body granted you no truce. Every movement, every hot breath against the back of your neck, every muffled grunt against the curve of your shoulder was a declaration of war and surrender at the same time. He kept you there, caged between his arms and the mattress, as if the outside world had ceased to exist and only that bubble of sweat, skin, and desire mattered.

You felt his weight, the solidity of muscles that contracted under your palms as your nails scratched anywhere they could reach, trying to find some point of support. With each thrust, the air escaped your lungs in a hoarse moan, his name getting lost in your throat like a prayer or a curse, nothing more than an inevitable recognition that Andrew Cody had destroyed you and rebuilt you within that bed, within that room, within that moment that seemed eternal.

"Beautiful..." his voice came out rough against your ear, warm and wet, his lips brushing your sensitive skin as he spoke. "All mine... only mine..."

The words penetrated deeper than his own body, echoing in every fiber of your being as you arched your back, your breasts pressing against the broad, sweaty chest of the man who dominated you. Both of your breaths were an offbeat rhythm, a symphony of sighs and moans that filled the room, mingling with the wet, obscene sound of bodies meeting.

Andrew moved against you with a precision that bordered on cruelty, each thrust calculated to extract exactly the reaction he wanted from you. His thick fingers dug deep into your thighs, keeping them open and vulnerable as he buried himself deeper, in a rhythm that oscillated between frenzy and torturous slowness. He studied you, watched every contraction of your face, every tremor that ran through your body, and adjusted his movement to prolong the pleasure, to take you to the limit and keep you there, suspended between need and fulfillment.

– Fuck... Like that! D-don't stop... Andrew... – you rolled your eyes with your mouth open in a needy gasp, your head thrown back against the pillow, your hair spread out like a halo of dark, damp strands. Your body trembled, your thighs squeezing his flanks in an involuntary reflex, and you felt your inner walls contract around the member that filled you, an involuntary squeeze that pulled a deep, guttural grunt from him.

"Like that, love... Like that..." Andrew murmured against your neck, his warm lips tracing a wet path from your jaw to your shoulder, where he softly bit your skin, only to then lick the spot as an apology. "You squeeze so good... You drive me crazy, you know that? This needy little pussy swallowing me... God, it's paradise."

His thumb brushed the already hardened nipple of your bouncing breast, twisting it with a pressure that made you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, your nails now digging into Andrew's scalp. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated with pleasure as dark curls fell over his sweaty forehead. God, you were so hot, and he loved you, loved you more than anything in the world.

"Damn, dear... You, fuck..." he said breathlessly, panting and surrendered, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that grew faster, more desperate. His swollen, drooling member pulsed with every movement, and you could feel the blunt tip pressing constantly against your deepest spot, the place only he could reach, the place that made your vision blur and your legs tremble.

Andrew's free hand extended beside your head, giving him support as he moved, his muscular, sweaty body looming over you like a protective and possessive shadow. Every fiber of him was taut, every muscle defined beneath skin glistening with sweat, and you could feel his heart beating against yours, an accelerated rhythm that echoed your own.

"Feel that, love?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, his eyes fixed on the point where your bodies met. "Feel how well you fit? How deep I am inside you?"

His hand over your pubic mound, where the skin was warm and damp. His fingers found the protrusion of your swollen clit again and you held your breath as he began to caress the spot, circular and precise movements that made your legs tremble and your body arch like a bow.

You screamed and tried to close your legs, pleasure building like a wave about to break, but Andrew was faster. A reprimanding slap cracked against your thigh, the sharp pain mingling with pleasure and making you gasp.

His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into the flesh as he thrust senselessly, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that was pure need. Each thrust was a declaration, each grunt a poem, and you could feel the orgasm approaching like an out-of-control train, pleasure building at the base of your belly until it overflowed.

"Andy... Andy, please..." you begged, your voice broken, your eyes teary with pleasure. "Please, don't stop... I'm going to..."

"Go, love... Go..." he encouraged, his fingers pressing your clit harder, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming frantic. "I want to feel you come, I want to feel you squeeze me... I want to fill you, love... I want to fill you with cum..."

The words were the trigger. Your body arched into a perfect bow, a hoarse cry escaping your lips as the orgasm overtook you, waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. Your inner walls contracted around Andrew's member, squeezing him in a warm, wet embrace that pulled a deep, guttural moan from him.

"That's it, love... That's it..." he groaned, his body tense, muscles contracting as he buried himself one last time, as deep as he could go. You felt his member pulse inside you, felt the hot, thick jet spread inside you, filling you with a sensation of fullness that made you cry out. "Fuck... Fuck, love... So good... Ah..."

His body surrendered, collapsing onto yours in a warm, sweaty weight. Both of your ragged breaths filled the room, mingling with the silence that followed, a silence full of affection and satisfaction. Andrew buried his face in your neck, his lips brushing your sensitive skin as he murmured disconnected words, mixtures of praise and declarations of love that you could barely understand.

"You're so perfect..." he whispered, his voice muffled against your skin. "So beautiful, so delicious... My angel, my love..."

His hands found yours, interlacing fingers as he remained inside you, reluctant to separate. Both of your breaths were beginning to calm, your heart rates gradually slowing, but the contact between your bodies remained intimate, a silent promise that that moment wouldn't end there.

"Andy..." you murmured, your voice hoarse and tired, your fingers squeezing his. "You're so good... to me..."

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race again. A soft smile curved his lips, and he leaned in to kiss you, a slow, deep kiss that said more than any words could express.

"I love you" he said against your lips, his voice full of a sincerity that made you tremble. "Love you more than anything, you know that?"

You smiled, your fingers releasing his to caress his face, tracing the line of his jaw and the contour of his lips. Your body still vibrated with the residual waves of the orgasm, but there was something more in that moment, something that transcended the physical and touched the core of your being.

"Love you too" you replied, your voice low but firm. "More than anything."

He smiled, a wide, genuine smile that lit up his face and made your heart tighten with love. He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time the kiss was different, softer, slower, a caress rather than a declaration of desire.

When you finally parted, Andrew was still inside you, his body warm and heavy, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and loved. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breathing slowly calming.

"I don't want to leave you" Andrew murmured, his voice low and lazy. "I want to stay here forever."

You laughed softly, your fingers playing with his damp curls, brushing the strands from his forehead.

"Then stay."

He smiled, a sleepy, satisfied smile, and you felt his body relax against yours, his weight becoming a sensation of security rather than oppression. The room around you was a mess of wrinkled sheets, clothes thrown on the floor, and the air still carried the smell of sex and sweat, but neither of you cared.

Andrew's hand slid down your belly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your still sweat-damp skin. He seemed completely surrendered, sated, his body relaxed against yours as his breathing grew slower and deeper.

"You were so good to me" he whispered, his voice almost asleep.

You laughed, your hand sliding to caress his broad back, feeling his muscles relax under your fingers.

"The best boy" you confirmed, your voice full of affection.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours in a look that was pure adoration. He leaned in to kiss you, a kiss that was at once a promise and a declaration, and when you parted, he was smiling.

"I love you" Andrew said again.

"I love you too" you replied.

He nestled into your neck, his body snuggling against yours, and you felt your eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion of pleasure and emotion enveloping you like a warm blanket.

Before falling asleep, you heard him murmur something against your skin, words you could barely understand, but that touched your heart like music.

He liked it there despite everything, the calm, the sound of the waves crashing against the damp wood of the aged pier, the seagulls in the distance gurgling and the wind howling as if whispering secrets along the beach. For a brief moment Andrew closed his eyes, moving his always restless fingers on the wooden edge that protected whoever it might be, sighing audibly.

The sun burned intensely, but Andrew didn't mind, his golden skin absorbed the heat as if it could, for a brief moment, push away the cold that had settled in his bones since childhood. He could hear in the distance the laughter of Craig and Deran, given over to the euphoria of the waves and completely oblivious to the storm that always haunted the older brother. They had the lightness that Andrew had never known, the ability to shake off the weight that Smurf had placed on each of their shoulders, but in Andrew it had settled like an anchor, like a blind knot he had never known how to undo.

With his eyes still closed, he tilted his head back slightly, the smell of salt mixed with the pungent odor of diesel from the anchored boats composed the essence of his existence, of all his days. Andrew Cody, the firstborn, the protector, the executor, the son that Smurf had molded to be her extension, her tool and shield. And yet, in that moment of stillness, he was just a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the emptiness of a life that had never belonged to him.

It was then that he felt a presence, something that altered the density of the air around him, a subtle displacement that made every muscle in his body contract in alert. His jaw, already tense, hardened even more, and his eyes opened with the slowness of someone who had learned not to show surprise. He didn't turn around immediately, instead, he allowed his gaze to scan the horizon line, the infinite blue where the sea kissed the sky, as if he could find there the explanation for the sudden acceleration of his heart.

When he finally turned his head, you were there and the world suddenly seemed to slow down.

Andrew didn't know what was more overwhelming: the way the sunlight danced in your hair, creating a golden halo that reminded him of the images of saints he had seen during the period he attended church, or the way your eyes met his with a frankness he had never learned to endure. People always looked away from Pope Cody, whether out of fear, respect, or survival instinct. But you didn't. You stared at him as if he weren't a predator, as if he weren't the monster Smurf had created, as if he were just... Andrew.

His body went rigid and his heart beating wildly against his ribs, like a caged bird. The older man's mouth went dry, and he had to swallow hard before he could articulate any word, any sound that wouldn't betray the turmoil that had settled in his chest.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out harsher than he intended, a defense mechanism as automatic as breathing itself. His tone was a wall, a barricade erected by years of distrust and pain.

But you didn't back down. Instead, a shy and almost hesitant smile curved your lips, making Andrew feel as if he had taken a direct blow to the stomach.

"Deran said you'd be here" you replied, your voice softer than the wind that howled around. "And I thought... well, I thought someone should keep you company."

You were a ray of sunshine, a saintly divinity that settled on the refined street of the coastal city of Oceanside. You were kind to everyone in the neighborhood, never even complained about the party messes that Andrew's younger brothers made. Always compassionate and won the admiration of the Cody men, but of course you couldn't captivate the family matriarch. Annoyed by your natural way of altering the environment to something bittersweet and soft. You had become a constant shadow in the Codys' lives, gradually present for each one. Pope, in contrast, only observed from afar and dodged your approaches, but of course that didn't last long, you already had him in the palm of your hand.

Andrew frowned, confused. Company. The word echoed in his mind as something supernatural, a concept so distant from his reality that he almost laughed. Company was for ordinary people, for those who didn't carry the burden of being a Cody, for those whose hands weren't stained with blood and whose souls hadn't been sold to the devil in exchange for survival.

"I don't need company" he replied warily, but his voice faltered, betraying him.

You took a step to the side, getting closer, and Andrew smelled your perfume mingling with the sea salt, something sweet and floral, like the promise of a spring he had never experienced. His heart tightened as a dull, familiar pain grew inside him, now impossible to ignore.

"I know" you said, and there was an understanding in your eyes that completely disarmed him. "But I wanted to be here. With you."

The words fell like stones in a still pond, creating ripples that spread throughout Andrew's entire being. He didn't know how to process that, how to accept that someone, someone so pure and luminous, could desire his presence. For years, Smurf had taught him that he was unworthy of love, that his only use was to serve, protect, execute. That any true affection would be a weakness, a vulnerable point that enemies could exploit.

But you were there, defying everything he knew, everything he was.

"You shouldn't be near me" Andrew murmured, finally looking away to the sea, unable to sustain the weight of your sincerity. "It's not safe. I'm not... I'm not good for you."

The soft laugh that escaped your lips was like music to his ears, a melody he didn't know he longed to hear.

"Who decided that, Andrew?" you asked, and there was a challenge in your words, a courage he rarely found. "You? Your mother? Because, from what I see, you're just a man who never had the chance to be who he really is."

Andrew felt the air escape his lungs as if he had been struck. His hand, still resting on the pier's wood, had clenched into such a tight fist that his nails dug into his palm, surely marking it. Your words pierced the rigid man's defenses with surgical precision, finding the fissure in his armor that he had spent his entire life trying to hide.

"You don't know me" he whispered, and there was a desperation in his voice that he hated, a vulnerability he had sworn never to expose again.

"But I'm trying" you replied, your head tilting to the side without ever looking away from him as you took another step, now so close he could feel the heat radiating from your body, warmer than the coastal heat. "I'm trying to know you, Andrew. The real you. Not Smurf's son, the older brother, or the man everyone fears... I want to know you."

The final word hung in the air between them, charged with possibilities. Andrew felt his eyes burn, a sensation he hadn't experienced since childhood, since the last time he cried before learning that tears were a weakness Smurf would not tolerate. He blinked rapidly, forcing the moisture to recede, and when he opened his eyes again, you were there, so close he could count the lashes that framed your bright eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" the question escaped as a hoarse whisper. "Why waste your time with someone like me?"

You raised your hand then, a gesture so slow and deliberate, afraid he would recoil like a frightened animal, that Andrew could have pulled away, could have raised his defenses and put distance between you. But he didn't move, just stood paralyzed, watching as your fingers approached his face with a tenderness he had never known.

The touch of your digits against Andrew's rough, freckled skin was like an electric shock, a spark that ran through his entire body and ignited something he had long believed extinct. Your fingers slid along his tense jaw, tracing the line of his jawline with a lightness that contrasted with all the brutality his life had been.

"Because I see you, Andrew" you said, and your words were as soft as your touch. "I see beyond everything you've done, beyond everything they've done to you. And... I believe you deserve to be loved."

The world seemed to stop. The sound of the waves, the seagulls, the distant shouts of his brothers, everything faded into a muffled buzz. Andrew felt the tears he had sworn never to shed again begin to form in the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed his eyelids shut, fighting the tide that threatened to overflow.

"You don't know what you're saying," he managed to articulate, but his voice was broken like the shards of glass he had already picked up so many times after Smurf's and his own outbursts of anger.

"I know enough," you insisted, and in an act of courage, you pushed your body up and toward the taller one, then your lips touched his cheek, a kiss so light and pure that Andrew felt as if a piece of his soul, long asleep, had finally awakened.

It was the first time someone kissed him with love, even if it wasn't on the lips. After all, the kisses Andrew had known until then always carried intentions, manipulation, negotiation, desire, and transaction. But your kiss was different, like an offering, a gift, something that demanded nothing in return. And he, who had never known what it was like to receive something without a price to pay, felt himself crumbling inside.

His body moved, turning toward your smaller one, and his strong arms, driven by an instinct he didn't recognize, rose and wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him with a desperate urgency. Andrew buried his face in your hair, inhaling your perfume as if it were the air he needed to survive, and for the first time in his life, Andrew Cody allowed himself to cry.

The tears came in a silent stream, warm against your skin, and the big, strong man felt your arms tighten around him, offering the comfort he never knew he needed. His body trembled with contained sobs, with years of pain and loneliness finally finding a release valve.

"I don't want to hurt you" Andrew murmured against your hair, his voice choked. "I don't want you to become part of this life. This hell."

"You won't hurt me" you replied, and there was so much conviction in your words that Andrew almost believed it. "You protect me, huh? That's what you always do, isn't it? Protect the people you love. Even if it means sacrificing yourself."

Andrew pulled back enough to look into your bright irises, and what he saw there completely disarmed him. There was no fear, no judgment, no pity, there was only love, a love so vast and unconditional that he couldn't understand how he deserved it or when it arose from you to him.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, his hand rising to touch your face, tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that rivaled yours. "How can you believe in me when even I don't believe in myself?"

You tilted your head, pressing your face against his warm palm, and smiled, a smile that illuminated your entire face and made Andrew's heart race.

"Because I chose to believe" you said, simply. "And because, when I look at you, I don't see the monster you insist you are. I see a man who deserves to be saved, and I'm here to show you that, Andrew. If you'll let me."

The promise hung in the air, fragile and precious as a soap bubble. Andrew felt his heart open, the defenses he had spent a lifetime building crumbling before your determination. He didn't know if he deserved that, didn't know if he could truly accept the love you offered, but in that moment, in that instant of vulnerability and truth, he decided to try.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise that he would try, that he would fight against all the demons that haunted him to be worthy of the love you offered him. Andrew's hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer as if he feared you might disappear if he relaxed his embrace.

The kiss deepened, charged with all the years of loneliness and longing he had repressed. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his brown, curly hair, pulling him closer as if you too feared losing him, and in that moment, on that forgotten pier with the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink, Andrew felt for the first time complete.

"I... I love you" he whispered against your lips, the words escaping before he could contain them, a confession laid bare for you and the sea, while Andrew felt his own heart race upon realizing what he had just confessed, closing his eyes with his forehead pressed against yours while shaking his head vehemently, an internal battle. "I shouldn't... I can't... but I love you."

You pulled back just enough to face him, your noses brushing, and Andrew saw the tears shining in your eyes, tears of joy that mirrored the ones still wetting his own face.

"Hey... I love you too, Andrew" you replied, and the words were like a blessing, like the absolution he had spent his entire life seeking. "Since the moment I saw you, and I'll keep loving you, no matter what happens."

Andrew pulled you against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart against his, and in that instant he allowed himself to believe that he could be saved, that he could escape the hell Smurf had created, that he could build a different life, a life where love wasn't a weakness, but a strength.

The following months were the happiest of Andrew's life. Every moment by your side was a gift, a small death of the man he had been and the birth of someone new. He had learned to truly smile, to laugh at silly things, to sleep with the tranquility of someone who knew he wasn't alone. You had taught him to trust, to lower his guard, to believe that there could be more to life than pain and survival. The older man would abandon the life he led, renouncing his mother's plans and following his own heart with you.

Meanwhile Andrew remembered the afternoons on the beach, when you would lie on the sand and count the stars that began to appear in the twilight sky. Andrew traced imaginary constellations on your skin, his fingers drawing paths only he knew, and you would laugh softly and comfortably against him, a sound so pure and joyful that he felt his chest overflow.

He remembered the nights he cooked for you, learning simple recipes that Smurf had never taught him because cooking was "women's work" or "a waste of time." He tried his best, always asking if you preferred your sandwich cut diagonally or horizontally, and you loved that care.

Andrew also remembered the times you would wake him in the middle of the night, startled by a nightmare, and instead of asking what happened, you would simply hug him and whisper that everything was okay, that he was safe, and that you were there for him. Andrew learned to believe those words, to allow them to envelop him like a warm blanket against the cold of his soul.

Smurf, however, never approved. From the first moment she learned of the involvement between you both, Andrew saw the dangerous glint in his mother's eyes, the same expression she used when planning to destroy something that threatened her control. He tried to keep you a secret, to protect your relationship from Smurf's claws, but she always found out. She always knew.

"She's going to destroy you" Smurf told her son one night, her voice soft as poison. "You think she loves you, Pope? She loves the idea of saving you, but when she finds out who you really are, when she sees the blood on your hands, she'll run. Like with Cath, with Julia, with Amy, like all of them."

Andrew clenched his fists, feeling the rage bubble in his veins like the most dangerous acid in the world.

"She's not like the others" the brown haired man replied, spitting the words like an insult. "She never will be."

Smurf laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the hallways of the house.

"Poor Pope..." the matriarch crooned, shaking her head with false pity. "You really believe that, don't you? But don't worry, my son. I'll show you, I'll show you who she really is."

Andrew should have heeded the warning. Should have seen the threat hidden behind Smurf's words, but he was so blinded by love, so drunk on the happiness he had found, that he chose to ignore it. He chose to believe he could win, that he could protect you, that he could finally escape.

But then the night everything ended began like any other. You were in the small apartment Andrew had rented, a modest space he called home because it was where you were. The yellowish light danced on the walls, creating shadows that seemed to dance to the music playing softly on the speaker you turned on as soon as you entered the house.

Every now and then I get a little bit terrified, but then I see the look in your eyes...

"I'll never get tired of this song" you said, nestled against his chest, embraced in the living room just enjoying each other's warmth.

Every now and then I fall apart...

Andrew smiled, tilting his head to kiss your hair. "Neither will I" he murmured. "It reminds me of you."

And I need you now, tonight...

You laughed, lifting your face to look at him. "Hmm, are you flattering me, Andy?"

And I need you more than ever...

He was going to answer, was going to say something about how you deserved all the flattery in the world, but he couldn't when he heard the noise. A door opening, and he was sure he had locked the lock when you both entered. Then footsteps in the hallway. The unmistakable sound of Smurf's voice echoing through the apartment.

Andrew's blood ran cold.

"What is she doing here?" he whispered, pulling away from you with a sharp movement. His body went into alert mode, every instinct screaming danger.

You frowned in confusion, reaching out your arm and pausing the music, and before you could ask, Smurf appeared in the room. She was impeccable, as always, her smile sharp as a blade.

"What a pleasant surprise" she said, her eyes scanning the apartment with disdain. "Pope, darling, you didn't tell me you were in such a... picturesque place."

Andrew positioned himself between you and Smurf, his body a protective barrier. Ignoring the false sympathy in the voice of the woman who had conceived him.

"What do you want?" His voice was low, controlled, but he could feel the tremor of rage running through his limbs. Smurf tilted her head, pretending to consider the question.

"Just a visit" the older woman in the room replied, adjusting her blonde hair in a snobbish way, her predatory and dangerous eyes fixed on you behind him. "I wanted to see the little girl who stole my son from me."

"She didn't steal anything from you" Andrew retorted, his teeth grinding. "You never really had me, Smurf, you're nothing but a manipulator."

Smurf's smile widened upon hearing that, and Andrew felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Oh, Pope... Always so dramatic." Smurf took a step forward, making the couple instinctively step back, but Andrew always staying between her and you. "No need to be so aggressive, it hurts mommy," she finished cynically, placing her aged palm above her chest in false upset.

"Get out of here" Andrew ordered, his voice a low growl. "Now."

Smurf laughed, a sound that seemed to tear the air, putting her sunglasses on her face, the noise of her bracelets being an omen sound.

"So protective. So passionate. It's almost cute" the Cody mother shook her head, her expression shifting to something darker even covered by the dark glasses. "But you know this won't last, don't you? She's going to leave you. As soon as she finds out what you did. What you are."

"Enough!" Andrew shouted, the anger finally exploding. His fist rose, but before he could take a step forward, you placed your hand on his arm, restraining him.

"Andy, honey, stop" you said, your voice calm despite the chaos. "Don't let her do this to you."

He looked at you and saw the trust in your eyes, the certainty that he was better than the anger Smurf provoked. Slowly, he lowered his fist, forcing himself to breathe.

Smurf watched the interaction with a satisfied smile.

"How beautiful" the blonde said. "The two of you against the world. But the world is a cruel place, and you know that better than anyone." She turned, walking toward the door. "I just came to warn you."

And so, Smurf left, leaving a heavy silence behind her. Andrew felt his heart race, the adrenaline still running through his veins. He turned to you, his eyes searching for signs of fear, of hesitation.

"Are you okay?" he asked hoarsely, both trembling hands rising to hold the sides of your face. You nodded, but Andrew saw the shadow that passed through your eyes.

"She's trying to scare you" you said, controlling the tremor that wanted to escape you. Not wanting to leave your Andy anxious, but deep in your core something alarming ignited like gunpowder in dry brush. "Don't let her win."

Andrew pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. Breathing and feeling you. You extended your arms, wrapping around his robust back and pressing Andrew's large body against yours.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you" he whispered. "Never." And he believed it, clung to it with all his being.

But Smurf was cunning. Smurf always won.

And I need you now, tonight...

And I need you more than ever...

Two weeks later, Andrew arrived at the apartment and immediately felt something was wrong. The silence was too heavy, the absence of light in the windows a sentence. He ran, his footsteps echoing through the hallways, and when he opened the door, his heart stopped.

And if you only hold me tight...

We'll be holding on forever...

And we'll only be making it right...

You were on the floor, motionless. Your skin, once golden from the California sun, looked so opaque and cold. Andrew screamed, the sound that escaped his lips was primal, a cry of pain so deep it seemed to come from someone else.

'Cause we'll never be wrong

Together, we can take it to the end of the line...

He fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he touched your face, searching for a sign of life he knew he wouldn't find. You were so cold.

"No" Andrew whispered, his voice broken. "No, no, no. Please, baby, no..."

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time...

But you didn't respond. Your eyes were open, without that sparkle the older man loved, now fallen on that floor as cold as your skin, your inert irises were fixed on some distant point, and the lack of life in them was an accusation. Andrew took your body in his arms, pulling it close and hugging it tight against his own chest.

I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark...

We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks...

Andrew rocked himself and your dead body, both abandoned in the middle of the apartment. He knew, knew who had done it, but his mind and body found the situation unreal, so he cried. Cried as he hadn't cried since childhood, with uncontrolled sobs that shook his entire body.

I really need you tonight...

Forever's gonna start tonight...

"I love you..." he murmured against your hair, repeating the words like a prayer, as if God or any deity could have mercy on this poor suffering man. "I love you so much. Please, don't leave me. Don't leave me alone..."

But you were already gone, and nothing he said or did could bring you back.

The following days were a blur. Andrew buried you with his own hands, choosing a spot by the sea, where the waves sang a melody you loved. He spent hours sitting by your grave, talking to you as if you could still hear.

"You saved me" Andrew said, his voice hoarse from crying, drying his tear-wet cheeks. "You showed me I could be more. I couldn't protect you..."

The wind howled, and Andrew heard the echo of your voice in every gust, the sound of your laughter in every wave. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he almost managed to feel you beside him, almost managed to hear the music you used to listen to together. Andrew almost managed to believe that love could defeat hate.

But the truth was cruel. Smurf won. She tore from him the only thing he truly loved, the only light in his darkness, and Andrew knew he would never be the same again.

He stood up, his shadow stretching across the sand like a black stain, and walked toward the sea. The waves kissed his feet, he felt the cold of the water rise up his legs, an invitation to surrender, to finally find the peace that life had denied him. But Andrew didn't surrender. He couldn't. You would have wanted him to continue, would have wanted him to fight, to honor the memory of the love you shared. And for you, he would fight. Even if it meant living with a broken heart for the rest of his days.

Once upon a time, I was falling in love...

But now I'm only falling apart...

"I will love you forever" Andrew whispered to the radiant horizon. "And I will live. For you. For us."

There's nothing I can do...

A total eclipse of the heart...

He liked it there despite everything, the calm, the sound of the waves crashing against the damp wood of the aged pier, the seagulls in the distance gurgling and the wind howling as if whispering secrets along the beach. For a brief moment Andrew closed his eyes, moving his always restless fingers on the wooden edge that protected whoever it might be, sighing audibly.

The sun burned intensely, but Andrew didn't mind, his golden skin absorbed the heat as if it could, for a brief moment, push away the cold that had settled in his bones since childhood. He could hear in the distance the laughter of Craig and Deran, given over to the euphoria of the waves and completely oblivious to the storm that always haunted the older brother. They had the lightness that Andrew had never known, the ability to shake off the weight that Smurf had placed on each of their shoulders, but in Andrew it had settled like an anchor, like a blind knot he had never known how to undo.

With his eyes still closed, he tilted his head back slightly, the smell of salt mixed with the pungent odor of diesel from the anchored boats composed the essence of his existence, of all his days. Andrew Cody, the firstborn, the protector, the executor, the son that Smurf had molded to be her extension, her tool and shield. And yet, in that moment of stillness, he was just a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the emptiness of a life that had never belonged to him.

It was then that he felt a presence, something that altered the density of the air around him, a subtle displacement that made every muscle in his body contract in alert. His jaw, already tense, hardened even more, and his eyes opened with the slowness of someone who had learned not to show surprise. He didn't turn around immediately, instead, he allowed his gaze to scan the horizon line, the infinite blue where the sea kissed the sky, as if he could find there the explanation for the sudden acceleration of his heart.

When he finally turned his head, you were there and the world suddenly seemed to slow down.

Andrew didn't know what was more overwhelming: the way the sunlight danced in your hair, creating a golden halo that reminded him of the images of saints he had seen during the period he attended church, or the way your eyes met his with a frankness he had never learned to endure. People always looked away from Pope Cody, whether out of fear, respect, or survival instinct. But you didn't. You stared at him as if he weren't a predator, as if he weren't the monster Smurf had created, as if he were just... Andrew.

His body went rigid and his heart beating wildly against his ribs, like a caged bird. The older man's mouth went dry, and he had to swallow hard before he could articulate any word, any sound that wouldn't betray the turmoil that had settled in his chest.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out harsher than he intended, a defense mechanism as automatic as breathing itself. His tone was a wall, a barricade erected by years of distrust and pain.

But you didn't back down. Instead, a shy and almost hesitant smile curved your lips, making Andrew feel as if he had taken a direct blow to the stomach.

"Deran said you'd be here" you replied, your voice softer than the wind that howled around. "And I thought... well, I thought someone should keep you company."

You were a ray of sunshine, a saintly divinity that settled on the refined street of the coastal city of Oceanside. You were kind to everyone in the neighborhood, never even complained about the party messes that Andrew's younger brothers made. Always compassionate and won the admiration of the Cody men, but of course you couldn't captivate the family matriarch. Annoyed by your natural way of altering the environment to something bittersweet and soft. You had become a constant shadow in the Codys' lives, gradually present for each one. Pope, in contrast, only observed from afar and dodged your approaches, but of course that didn't last long, you already had him in the palm of your hand.

Andrew frowned, confused. Company. The word echoed in his mind as something supernatural, a concept so distant from his reality that he almost laughed. Company was for ordinary people, for those who didn't carry the burden of being a Cody, for those whose hands weren't stained with blood and whose souls hadn't been sold to the devil in exchange for survival.

"I don't need company" he replied warily, but his voice faltered, betraying him.

You took a step to the side, getting closer, and Andrew smelled your perfume mingling with the sea salt, something sweet and floral, like the promise of a spring he had never experienced. His heart tightened as a dull, familiar pain grew inside him, now impossible to ignore.

"I know" you said, and there was an understanding in your eyes that completely disarmed him. "But I wanted to be here. With you."

The words fell like stones in a still pond, creating ripples that spread throughout Andrew's entire being. He didn't know how to process that, how to accept that someone, someone so pure and luminous, could desire his presence. For years, Smurf had taught him that he was unworthy of love, that his only use was to serve, protect, execute. That any true affection would be a weakness, a vulnerable point that enemies could exploit.

But you were there, defying everything he knew, everything he was.

"You shouldn't be near me" Andrew murmured, finally looking away to the sea, unable to sustain the weight of your sincerity. "It's not safe. I'm not... I'm not good for you."

The soft laugh that escaped your lips was like music to his ears, a melody he didn't know he longed to hear.

"Who decided that, Andrew?" you asked, and there was a challenge in your words, a courage he rarely found. "You? Your mother? Because, from what I see, you're just a man who never had the chance to be who he really is."

Andrew felt the air escape his lungs as if he had been struck. His hand, still resting on the pier's wood, had clenched into such a tight fist that his nails dug into his palm, surely marking it. Your words pierced the rigid man's defenses with surgical precision, finding the fissure in his armor that he had spent his entire life trying to hide.

"You don't know me" he whispered, and there was a desperation in his voice that he hated, a vulnerability he had sworn never to expose again.

"But I'm trying" you replied, your head tilting to the side without ever looking away from him as you took another step, now so close he could feel the heat radiating from your body, warmer than the coastal heat. "I'm trying to know you, Andrew. The real you. Not Smurf's son, the older brother, or the man everyone fears... I want to know you."

The final word hung in the air between them, charged with possibilities. Andrew felt his eyes burn, a sensation he hadn't experienced since childhood, since the last time he cried before learning that tears were a weakness Smurf would not tolerate. He blinked rapidly, forcing the moisture to recede, and when he opened his eyes again, you were there, so close he could count the lashes that framed your bright eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" the question escaped as a hoarse whisper. "Why waste your time with someone like me?"

You raised your hand then, a gesture so slow and deliberate, afraid he would recoil like a frightened animal, that Andrew could have pulled away, could have raised his defenses and put distance between you. But he didn't move, just stood paralyzed, watching as your fingers approached his face with a tenderness he had never known.

The touch of your digits against Andrew's rough, freckled skin was like an electric shock, a spark that ran through his entire body and ignited something he had long believed extinct. Your fingers slid along his tense jaw, tracing the line of his jawline with a lightness that contrasted with all the brutality his life had been.

"Because I see you, Andrew" you said, and your words were as soft as your touch. "I see beyond everything you've done, beyond everything they've done to you. And... I believe you deserve to be loved."

The world seemed to stop. The sound of the waves, the seagulls, the distant shouts of his brothers, everything faded into a muffled buzz. Andrew felt the tears he had sworn never to shed again begin to form in the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed his eyelids shut, fighting the tide that threatened to overflow.

"You don't know what you're saying," he managed to articulate, but his voice was broken like the shards of glass he had already picked up so many times after Smurf's and his own outbursts of anger.

"I know enough," you insisted, and in an act of courage, you pushed your body up and toward the taller one, then your lips touched his cheek, a kiss so light and pure that Andrew felt as if a piece of his soul, long asleep, had finally awakened.

It was the first time someone kissed him with love, even if it wasn't on the lips. After all, the kisses Andrew had known until then always carried intentions, manipulation, negotiation, desire, and transaction. But your kiss was different, like an offering, a gift, something that demanded nothing in return. And he, who had never known what it was like to receive something without a price to pay, felt himself crumbling inside.

His body moved, turning toward your smaller one, and his strong arms, driven by an instinct he didn't recognize, rose and wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him with a desperate urgency. Andrew buried his face in your hair, inhaling your perfume as if it were the air he needed to survive, and for the first time in his life, Andrew Cody allowed himself to cry.

The tears came in a silent stream, warm against your skin, and the big, strong man felt your arms tighten around him, offering the comfort he never knew he needed. His body trembled with contained sobs, with years of pain and loneliness finally finding a release valve.

"I don't want to hurt you" Andrew murmured against your hair, his voice choked. "I don't want you to become part of this life. This hell."

"You won't hurt me" you replied, and there was so much conviction in your words that Andrew almost believed it. "You protect me, huh? That's what you always do, isn't it? Protect the people you love. Even if it means sacrificing yourself."

Andrew pulled back enough to look into your bright irises, and what he saw there completely disarmed him. There was no fear, no judgment, no pity, there was only love, a love so vast and unconditional that he couldn't understand how he deserved it or when it arose from you to him.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, his hand rising to touch your face, tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that rivaled yours. "How can you believe in me when even I don't believe in myself?"

You tilted your head, pressing your face against his warm palm, and smiled, a smile that illuminated your entire face and made Andrew's heart race.

"Because I chose to believe" you said, simply. "And because, when I look at you, I don't see the monster you insist you are. I see a man who deserves to be saved, and I'm here to show you that, Andrew. If you'll let me."

The promise hung in the air, fragile and precious as a soap bubble. Andrew felt his heart open, the defenses he had spent a lifetime building crumbling before your determination. He didn't know if he deserved that, didn't know if he could truly accept the love you offered, but in that moment, in that instant of vulnerability and truth, he decided to try.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise that he would try, that he would fight against all the demons that haunted him to be worthy of the love you offered him. Andrew's hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer as if he feared you might disappear if he relaxed his embrace.

The kiss deepened, charged with all the years of loneliness and longing he had repressed. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his brown, curly hair, pulling him closer as if you too feared losing him, and in that moment, on that forgotten pier with the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink, Andrew felt for the first time complete.

"I... I love you" he whispered against your lips, the words escaping before he could contain them, a confession laid bare for you and the sea, while Andrew felt his own heart race upon realizing what he had just confessed, closing his eyes with his forehead pressed against yours while shaking his head vehemently, an internal battle. "I shouldn't... I can't... but I love you."

You pulled back just enough to face him, your noses brushing, and Andrew saw the tears shining in your eyes, tears of joy that mirrored the ones still wetting his own face.

"Hey... I love you too, Andrew" you replied, and the words were like a blessing, like the absolution he had spent his entire life seeking. "Since the moment I saw you, and I'll keep loving you, no matter what happens."

Andrew pulled you against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart against his, and in that instant he allowed himself to believe that he could be saved, that he could escape the hell Smurf had created, that he could build a different life, a life where love wasn't a weakness, but a strength.

The following months were the happiest of Andrew's life. Every moment by your side was a gift, a small death of the man he had been and the birth of someone new. He had learned to truly smile, to laugh at silly things, to sleep with the tranquility of someone who knew he wasn't alone. You had taught him to trust, to lower his guard, to believe that there could be more to life than pain and survival. The older man would abandon the life he led, renouncing his mother's plans and following his own heart with you.

Meanwhile Andrew remembered the afternoons on the beach, when you would lie on the sand and count the stars that began to appear in the twilight sky. Andrew traced imaginary constellations on your skin, his fingers drawing paths only he knew, and you would laugh softly and comfortably against him, a sound so pure and joyful that he felt his chest overflow.

He remembered the nights he cooked for you, learning simple recipes that Smurf had never taught him because cooking was "women's work" or "a waste of time." He tried his best, always asking if you preferred your sandwich cut diagonally or horizontally, and you loved that care.

Andrew also remembered the times you would wake him in the middle of the night, startled by a nightmare, and instead of asking what happened, you would simply hug him and whisper that everything was okay, that he was safe, and that you were there for him. Andrew learned to believe those words, to allow them to envelop him like a warm blanket against the cold of his soul.

Smurf, however, never approved. From the first moment she learned of the involvement between you both, Andrew saw the dangerous glint in his mother's eyes, the same expression she used when planning to destroy something that threatened her control. He tried to keep you a secret, to protect your relationship from Smurf's claws, but she always found out. She always knew.

"She's going to destroy you" Smurf told her son one night, her voice soft as poison. "You think she loves you, Pope? She loves the idea of saving you, but when she finds out who you really are, when she sees the blood on your hands, she'll run. Like with Cath, with Julia, with Amy, like all of them."

Andrew clenched his fists, feeling the rage bubble in his veins like the most dangerous acid in the world.

"She's not like the others" the brown haired man replied, spitting the words like an insult. "She never will be."

Smurf laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the hallways of the house.

"Poor Pope..." the matriarch crooned, shaking her head with false pity. "You really believe that, don't you? But don't worry, my son. I'll show you, I'll show you who she really is."

Andrew should have heeded the warning. Should have seen the threat hidden behind Smurf's words, but he was so blinded by love, so drunk on the happiness he had found, that he chose to ignore it. He chose to believe he could win, that he could protect you, that he could finally escape.

But then the night everything ended began like any other. You were in the small apartment Andrew had rented, a modest space he called home because it was where you were. The yellowish light danced on the walls, creating shadows that seemed to dance to the music playing softly on the speaker you turned on as soon as you entered the house.

Every now and then I get a little bit terrified, but then I see the look in your eyes...

"I'll never get tired of this song" you said, nestled against his chest, embraced in the living room just enjoying each other's warmth.

Every now and then I fall apart...

Andrew smiled, tilting his head to kiss your hair. "Neither will I" he murmured. "It reminds me of you."

And I need you now, tonight...

You laughed, lifting your face to look at him. "Hmm, are you flattering me, Andy?"

And I need you more than ever...

He was going to answer, was going to say something about how you deserved all the flattery in the world, but he couldn't when he heard the noise. A door opening, and he was sure he had locked the lock when you both entered. Then footsteps in the hallway. The unmistakable sound of Smurf's voice echoing through the apartment.

Andrew's blood ran cold.

"What is she doing here?" he whispered, pulling away from you with a sharp movement. His body went into alert mode, every instinct screaming danger.

You frowned in confusion, reaching out your arm and pausing the music, and before you could ask, Smurf appeared in the room. She was impeccable, as always, her smile sharp as a blade.

"What a pleasant surprise" she said, her eyes scanning the apartment with disdain. "Pope, darling, you didn't tell me you were in such a... picturesque place."

Andrew positioned himself between you and Smurf, his body a protective barrier. Ignoring the false sympathy in the voice of the woman who had conceived him.

"What do you want?" His voice was low, controlled, but he could feel the tremor of rage running through his limbs. Smurf tilted her head, pretending to consider the question.

"Just a visit" the older woman in the room replied, adjusting her blonde hair in a snobbish way, her predatory and dangerous eyes fixed on you behind him. "I wanted to see the little girl who stole my son from me."

"She didn't steal anything from you" Andrew retorted, his teeth grinding. "You never really had me, Smurf, you're nothing but a manipulator."

Smurf's smile widened upon hearing that, and Andrew felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Oh, Pope... Always so dramatic." Smurf took a step forward, making the couple instinctively step back, but Andrew always staying between her and you. "No need to be so aggressive, it hurts mommy," she finished cynically, placing her aged palm above her chest in false upset.

"Get out of here" Andrew ordered, his voice a low growl. "Now."

Smurf laughed, a sound that seemed to tear the air, putting her sunglasses on her face, the noise of her bracelets being an omen sound.

"So protective. So passionate. It's almost cute" the Cody mother shook her head, her expression shifting to something darker even covered by the dark glasses. "But you know this won't last, don't you? She's going to leave you. As soon as she finds out what you did. What you are."

"Enough!" Andrew shouted, the anger finally exploding. His fist rose, but before he could take a step forward, you placed your hand on his arm, restraining him.

"Andy, honey, stop" you said, your voice calm despite the chaos. "Don't let her do this to you."

He looked at you and saw the trust in your eyes, the certainty that he was better than the anger Smurf provoked. Slowly, he lowered his fist, forcing himself to breathe.

Smurf watched the interaction with a satisfied smile.

"How beautiful" the blonde said. "The two of you against the world. But the world is a cruel place, and you know that better than anyone." She turned, walking toward the door. "I just came to warn you."

And so, Smurf left, leaving a heavy silence behind her. Andrew felt his heart race, the adrenaline still running through his veins. He turned to you, his eyes searching for signs of fear, of hesitation.

"Are you okay?" he asked hoarsely, both trembling hands rising to hold the sides of your face. You nodded, but Andrew saw the shadow that passed through your eyes.

"She's trying to scare you" you said, controlling the tremor that wanted to escape you. Not wanting to leave your Andy anxious, but deep in your core something alarming ignited like gunpowder in dry brush. "Don't let her win."

Andrew pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. Breathing and feeling you. You extended your arms, wrapping around his robust back and pressing Andrew's large body against yours.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you" he whispered. "Never." And he believed it, clung to it with all his being.

But Smurf was cunning. Smurf always won.

And I need you now, tonight...

And I need you more than ever...

Two weeks later, Andrew arrived at the apartment and immediately felt something was wrong. The silence was too heavy, the absence of light in the windows a sentence. He ran, his footsteps echoing through the hallways, and when he opened the door, his heart stopped.

And if you only hold me tight...

We'll be holding on forever...

And we'll only be making it right...

You were on the floor, motionless. Your skin, once golden from the California sun, looked so opaque and cold. Andrew screamed, the sound that escaped his lips was primal, a cry of pain so deep it seemed to come from someone else.

'Cause we'll never be wrong

Together, we can take it to the end of the line...

He fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he touched your face, searching for a sign of life he knew he wouldn't find. You were so cold.

"No" Andrew whispered, his voice broken. "No, no, no. Please, baby, no..."

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time...

But you didn't respond. Your eyes were open, without that sparkle the older man loved, now fallen on that floor as cold as your skin, your inert irises were fixed on some distant point, and the lack of life in them was an accusation. Andrew took your body in his arms, pulling it close and hugging it tight against his own chest.

I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark...

We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks...

Andrew rocked himself and your dead body, both abandoned in the middle of the apartment. He knew, knew who had done it, but his mind and body found the situation unreal, so he cried. Cried as he hadn't cried since childhood, with uncontrolled sobs that shook his entire body.

I really need you tonight...

Forever's gonna start tonight...

"I love you..." he murmured against your hair, repeating the words like a prayer, as if God or any deity could have mercy on this poor suffering man. "I love you so much. Please, don't leave me. Don't leave me alone..."

But you were already gone, and nothing he said or did could bring you back.

The following days were a blur. Andrew buried you with his own hands, choosing a spot by the sea, where the waves sang a melody you loved. He spent hours sitting by your grave, talking to you as if you could still hear.

"You saved me" Andrew said, his voice hoarse from crying, drying his tear-wet cheeks. "You showed me I could be more. I couldn't protect you..."

The wind howled, and Andrew heard the echo of your voice in every gust, the sound of your laughter in every wave. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he almost managed to feel you beside him, almost managed to hear the music you used to listen to together. Andrew almost managed to believe that love could defeat hate.

But the truth was cruel. Smurf won. She tore from him the only thing he truly loved, the only light in his darkness, and Andrew knew he would never be the same again.

He stood up, his shadow stretching across the sand like a black stain, and walked toward the sea. The waves kissed his feet, he felt the cold of the water rise up his legs, an invitation to surrender, to finally find the peace that life had denied him. But Andrew didn't surrender. He couldn't. You would have wanted him to continue, would have wanted him to fight, to honor the memory of the love you shared. And for you, he would fight. Even if it meant living with a broken heart for the rest of his days.

Once upon a time, I was falling in love...

But now I'm only falling apart...

"I will love you forever" Andrew whispered to the radiant horizon. "And I will live. For you. For us."

There's nothing I can do...

A total eclipse of the heart...

His body moved against yours with a precision that bordered on cruelty, each thrust calculated to extract exactly the reaction he wanted from you. Andrew's fingers dug deep into your thighs, keeping them open and vulnerable as he buried himself deeper, in a rhythm that oscillated between frenzy and torturous slowness.

"So tasty..." his voice came out rough against your ear, warm. "All mine... only mine..."

You arched your back, your nails scratching his broad back in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself to something as pleasure threatened to dismantle every bone in your body. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, like a curse, like everything and nothing at the same time. Andrew Cody was a man who occupied every space: the room, the bed, your breath, and your soul.

You could smell both of you in the air, hear the slapping sound of skin colliding, and the blunt tip of his heavy, swollen member pressing against your deepest, most needy spot. Your thighs trembled and you felt your orifice contract from the sheer pleasure the man was giving you. You rolled your eyes as the nails of your right hand scratched Andrew's muscular shoulders.

"Ah! Ah! FUCK!" your voice was hoarse, completely surrendered and delivered to the moment. Your lubrication dripped and stained the sheet that Cody would clean later in that obsessive ritual he had, but now nothing mattered. For Andrew, having you underneath him, a crying, delicious mess, was all that mattered, while your dripping vagina squeezed his turgid member.

Andrew's large hands slid from your thigh to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh that bounced with each thrust. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated with pleasure as his curls bobbed hanging over his forehead. God, you were so hot and he loved you, loved you more than anything in the world.

You moaned loudly and squeezed Andrew, pleasure building at the base of your belly. You didn't even care anymore if Andrew's brothers or mother heard your scandal, all that mattered was how well he was fucking you.

"Touch me... Touch me... Andy"

And, like the good little dog he was, Andrew obeyed. He moved his hands from your breasts down your waist, squeezing your soft, warm skin, moaning when you arched at the touch, your movements erratic as he touched you with such devotion.

His hand flattened on your abdomen, his thick cock entering and exiting you, exploring and claiming your being from the inside. Andrew bit his lips, moaning at your delicious, needy sounds.

Then his palm kept sliding down to your mons pubis, where it was warm and exploratory, his fingers caressing your swollen clit, drooling from your own obscenity. When Cody's finger touched that little spot and you squeezed him brutally, he almost came inside you.

"Fuck, darling... Like that I'm going to come" he complained weakly, trying to control his breathing as you writhed. The older man's molasses eyes watched you, gripping the sheets beside your head, tangled locks and sweat dripping down your forehead. He wanted to lick you all over, but not now. Now he wanted to feel your insides contracting, sucking his dripping member inside you, he wanted you to beg for his cum.

"So tasty, I'm so lucky... Fuck" Cody was in ecstasy, his fingers making skillful movements on your clit. You screamed and tried to close your legs again, receiving once more the sting of a reprimanding slap.

"Open for me, angel... Open wide..."

He thrust harder, holding your hips as he fucked you senseless. Both of your orgasms approaching.

Andrew's body granted you no truce. Every movement, every hot breath against the back of your neck, every muffled grunt against the curve of your shoulder was a declaration of war and surrender at the same time. He kept you there, caged between his arms and the mattress, as if the outside world had ceased to exist and only that bubble of sweat, skin, and desire mattered.

You felt his weight, the solidity of muscles that contracted under your palms as your nails scratched anywhere they could reach, trying to find some point of support. With each thrust, the air escaped your lungs in a hoarse moan, his name getting lost in your throat like a prayer or a curse, nothing more than an inevitable recognition that Andrew Cody had destroyed you and rebuilt you within that bed, within that room, within that moment that seemed eternal.

"Beautiful..." his voice came out rough against your ear, warm and wet, his lips brushing your sensitive skin as he spoke. "All mine... only mine..."

The words penetrated deeper than his own body, echoing in every fiber of your being as you arched your back, your breasts pressing against the broad, sweaty chest of the man who dominated you. Both of your breaths were an offbeat rhythm, a symphony of sighs and moans that filled the room, mingling with the wet, obscene sound of bodies meeting.

Andrew moved against you with a precision that bordered on cruelty, each thrust calculated to extract exactly the reaction he wanted from you. His thick fingers dug deep into your thighs, keeping them open and vulnerable as he buried himself deeper, in a rhythm that oscillated between frenzy and torturous slowness. He studied you, watched every contraction of your face, every tremor that ran through your body, and adjusted his movement to prolong the pleasure, to take you to the limit and keep you there, suspended between need and fulfillment.

– Fuck... Like that! D-don't stop... Andrew... – you rolled your eyes with your mouth open in a needy gasp, your head thrown back against the pillow, your hair spread out like a halo of dark, damp strands. Your body trembled, your thighs squeezing his flanks in an involuntary reflex, and you felt your inner walls contract around the member that filled you, an involuntary squeeze that pulled a deep, guttural grunt from him.

"Like that, love... Like that..." Andrew murmured against your neck, his warm lips tracing a wet path from your jaw to your shoulder, where he softly bit your skin, only to then lick the spot as an apology. "You squeeze so good... You drive me crazy, you know that? This needy little pussy swallowing me... God, it's paradise."

His thumb brushed the already hardened nipple of your bouncing breast, twisting it with a pressure that made you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, your nails now digging into Andrew's scalp. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated with pleasure as dark curls fell over his sweaty forehead. God, you were so hot, and he loved you, loved you more than anything in the world.

"Damn, dear... You, fuck..." he said breathlessly, panting and surrendered, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that grew faster, more desperate. His swollen, drooling member pulsed with every movement, and you could feel the blunt tip pressing constantly against your deepest spot, the place only he could reach, the place that made your vision blur and your legs tremble.

Andrew's free hand extended beside your head, giving him support as he moved, his muscular, sweaty body looming over you like a protective and possessive shadow. Every fiber of him was taut, every muscle defined beneath skin glistening with sweat, and you could feel his heart beating against yours, an accelerated rhythm that echoed your own.

"Feel that, love?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, his eyes fixed on the point where your bodies met. "Feel how well you fit? How deep I am inside you?"

His hand over your pubic mound, where the skin was warm and damp. His fingers found the protrusion of your swollen clit again and you held your breath as he began to caress the spot, circular and precise movements that made your legs tremble and your body arch like a bow.

You screamed and tried to close your legs, pleasure building like a wave about to break, but Andrew was faster. A reprimanding slap cracked against your thigh, the sharp pain mingling with pleasure and making you gasp.

His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into the flesh as he thrust senselessly, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that was pure need. Each thrust was a declaration, each grunt a poem, and you could feel the orgasm approaching like an out-of-control train, pleasure building at the base of your belly until it overflowed.

"Andy... Andy, please..." you begged, your voice broken, your eyes teary with pleasure. "Please, don't stop... I'm going to..."

"Go, love... Go..." he encouraged, his fingers pressing your clit harder, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming frantic. "I want to feel you come, I want to feel you squeeze me... I want to fill you, love... I want to fill you with cum..."

The words were the trigger. Your body arched into a perfect bow, a hoarse cry escaping your lips as the orgasm overtook you, waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. Your inner walls contracted around Andrew's member, squeezing him in a warm, wet embrace that pulled a deep, guttural moan from him.

"That's it, love... That's it..." he groaned, his body tense, muscles contracting as he buried himself one last time, as deep as he could go. You felt his member pulse inside you, felt the hot, thick jet spread inside you, filling you with a sensation of fullness that made you cry out. "Fuck... Fuck, love... So good... Ah..."

His body surrendered, collapsing onto yours in a warm, sweaty weight. Both of your ragged breaths filled the room, mingling with the silence that followed, a silence full of affection and satisfaction. Andrew buried his face in your neck, his lips brushing your sensitive skin as he murmured disconnected words, mixtures of praise and declarations of love that you could barely understand.

"You're so perfect..." he whispered, his voice muffled against your skin. "So beautiful, so delicious... My angel, my love..."

His hands found yours, interlacing fingers as he remained inside you, reluctant to separate. Both of your breaths were beginning to calm, your heart rates gradually slowing, but the contact between your bodies remained intimate, a silent promise that that moment wouldn't end there.

"Andy..." you murmured, your voice hoarse and tired, your fingers squeezing his. "You're so good... to me..."

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race again. A soft smile curved his lips, and he leaned in to kiss you, a slow, deep kiss that said more than any words could express.

"I love you" he said against your lips, his voice full of a sincerity that made you tremble. "Love you more than anything, you know that?"

You smiled, your fingers releasing his to caress his face, tracing the line of his jaw and the contour of his lips. Your body still vibrated with the residual waves of the orgasm, but there was something more in that moment, something that transcended the physical and touched the core of your being.

"Love you too" you replied, your voice low but firm. "More than anything."

He smiled, a wide, genuine smile that lit up his face and made your heart tighten with love. He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time the kiss was different, softer, slower, a caress rather than a declaration of desire.

When you finally parted, Andrew was still inside you, his body warm and heavy, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and loved. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breathing slowly calming.

"I don't want to leave you" Andrew murmured, his voice low and lazy. "I want to stay here forever."

You laughed softly, your fingers playing with his damp curls, brushing the strands from his forehead.

"Then stay."

He smiled, a sleepy, satisfied smile, and you felt his body relax against yours, his weight becoming a sensation of security rather than oppression. The room around you was a mess of wrinkled sheets, clothes thrown on the floor, and the air still carried the smell of sex and sweat, but neither of you cared.

Andrew's hand slid down your belly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your still sweat-damp skin. He seemed completely surrendered, sated, his body relaxed against yours as his breathing grew slower and deeper.

"You were so good to me" he whispered, his voice almost asleep.

You laughed, your hand sliding to caress his broad back, feeling his muscles relax under your fingers.

"The best boy" you confirmed, your voice full of affection.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours in a look that was pure adoration. He leaned in to kiss you, a kiss that was at once a promise and a declaration, and when you parted, he was smiling.

"I love you" Andrew said again.

"I love you too" you replied.

He nestled into your neck, his body snuggling against yours, and you felt your eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion of pleasure and emotion enveloping you like a warm blanket.

Before falling asleep, you heard him murmur something against your skin, words you could barely understand, but that touched your heart like music.

Jack entered the room and stopped, his gaze trained by coexistence swept the scene in an instant and in seconds solved the riddle, duvet cocoon, your pale and drawn face, the hot water bottle fallen on the floor and a cold cup of tea on the coffee table. The expression of tiredness he carried on his face dissolved and was soon replaced by an immediate and deep concern. He dropped his backpack on the floor and in two long strides he was by your side.

"Love" he said in a soft voice, but with a hint of urgency. His large, warm hand found your forehead, pushing back a strand of sweaty hair "Is it the second day?"

You could only nod, a minimal movement, and another wave of pain made you shudder. The tears you had held back all day began to flow silently, tracing warm paths down your cold face.

"Jack... it's so strong" you whispered, trembling and faltering. "I can't... I can't even stand up. It feels like something is tearing me apart inside. And... I'm dirty. I know I'm dirty. The pad can't handle it anymore."

He didn't hesitate. Jack had always been a man of action and presence, throughout the relationship you had both always been honest about your pains, discomfort and problems, so of course you wouldn't be embarrassed to say you were in pain and for Abbot, knowing that became an urgency he needed to remedy.

He sat on the edge of the sofa next to your hips and then his hands began to work, tracing affectionate but firm circles still over the duvet, on the region of your lower abdomen. The warmth of his palm penetrated the fabric in a promise of relief.

"I know, I know" he murmured, leaning in to deposit a lingering kiss on your forehead. His lips were slightly rough, a comforting contrast to your hot, feverish skin. "The primary dysmenorrhea you have is caused by excess prostaglandins...." he began to explain deliberately, as if telling how the sun is warm. "These substances inflame the endometrium and make the uterus contract excessively, compressing the blood vessels and reducing tissue oxygenation. That's why the pain is so intense and radiates to your back."

You frowned, confused, as he pulled away. He had a gleam in his eyes, a mix of determination and a certain enthusiasm that at that moment you didn't have the energy to decipher. Jack stood up and removed his lab coat with a quick movement, throwing it over the back of the armchair behind him.

"What... what are you doing?" you asked, your voice coming out low and your body vibrating. The pain throbbed, relentless, but a spark of curiosity broke through the fog of suffering.

Jack sat down again, but this time closer, his body turned towards you. He pulled the duvet down, exposing your trembling legs and the linen pajamas you were wearing. His dark eyes dropped to the red stain that was already beginning to appear on the pajama fabric, damn, you really should have dragged yourself to the bathroom and changed the pad. You felt the heat of shame rise to your face.

"Jack, no, it's... it's a mess down there" you protested, trying to close your legs, but the pain prevented any sudden movement. "It's not pretty."

The older man, however, was not shaken, his hands found the skin of your belly under your pajamas, tracing slow, firm circles on your abdomen just above your pubic bone. The sensation of his warm, firm palm directly against your sore skin made you let out an involuntary sigh.

"Orgasms" the doctor said, with seriousness, as if explaining something to a patient "During orgasm the uterus contracts rhythmically, in a pattern similar to menstrual contractions, but in a controlled and beneficial way." Abbot blinked slowly at you, the expression lines becoming more visible as he frowned in concentration on the explanation, his fingers never stopping sliding under your warm skin. "These contractions help expel excess prostaglandins and stimulate blood circulation in the pelvic region. Furthermore... The release of endorphins during climax is even greater than the body's natural production at rest. Endorphins have an analgesic potency almost comparable to morphine, but without the side effects." he concluded, smiling.

You, in turn, widened your eyes in sheer disbelief, even through the fog of pain. A short, weak laugh escaped you, cut short by a grimace when a new pang hit you. "Jack, that's... this is no time for your crazy lessons or instructions. Hello, I'm dying here and, seriously, the last thing you want to see is what's going on down there." your voice concluded skeptically despite the pain, your boyfriend was crazy!

Jack, however, was not shaken, his hands continued their movement, sliding with patience over your skin, slowly descending towards your hip.

"They're not crazy ideas." he rolled his eyes fondly "Stimulation of the clitoris activates the pudendal nerve, which sends signals directly to the spinal cord and brain. These signals compete with the pain signals from the pelvic region, in the phenomenon called the 'gate control theory of pain'." Jack made air quotes with his fingers briefly, but soon returned to your pelvis. "Basically, pleasure overrides pain and the oxytocin released afterwards, along with vasopressin, promotes generalized muscle relaxation, which relieves uterine contractions."

He spoke with so much conviction, with such a professional air, that even in your fragile condition, you felt a different tremor run down your spine. It wasn't just the pain, it was the way he looked at you, the way his hands moved with a precision that wasn't just clinical, but deeply intimate.

"You're making that up" you murmured, even knowing he was an experienced, intelligent and respected doctor, but your voice no longer had the same conviction. The gentle, yet constant, pressure of the older man's hands were already beginning to take effect, creating a point of heat that competed with the sharp pain.

Abbot laughed softly as he shook his head negatively.

"I would never make something like that up" he replied, leaning in to whisper against your ear and his warm breath made you shudder. "Scientific fact, dear, studies show that women who achieve orgasm during their menstrual period have a reduction of up to sixty percent in pain intensity... It's statistically significant, trust me. Let me help you."

His hands traced a slow and deliberate path, tracing the contours of your body through the thin fabric. They went up from your hips, groped the curve of your breasts, went down again, always with a pressure that was at once firm and gentle, a silent invitation for you to surrender. Each touch was a small point of light in the darkness of your pain.

"Jack... you're going to get dirty" you whispered, your voice trembling, as he slid his hand under the hem of your shorts. You were, however, a mix of fear of judgment and repulsion, this all was a sum almost as great as the pain you felt.

"The blood doesn't scare me, love" Jack replied hoarsely, his dark eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "It's part of you and there's nothing that could drive me away."

His right, thick palm slid up and reached the strap of your nightgown over your shoulder, pulling it down as he advanced his face and let his lips find the curve of your slender neck. He kissed the warm, salty skin, a trail of fire that opposed the dull pain in your belly. His free hand, meanwhile, traced increasingly slower and deeper circles over your lower abdomen, as if trying to massage the very source of your discomfort, stimulating the hypogastric plexus and the pelvic splanchnic nerves.

"Let me take care of you" the grey-haired man whispered against your skin. "Let me give you some relief."

The kiss passed over your collarbone, while the hand that was on your belly went down a little further, resting on the curve of your hip. His fingers, light as feathers, found the elastic of your panties, making a gentle pressure that was not a request, but an offer. He pulled the fabric down with the shorts and panties, slowly, revealing the damp and warm skin of your belly. Your pajama top went up, exposing your breasts and nipples that were already hardened not only by the cold, but by the growing excitement.

You were stained with a dark red, almost brown in some areas, soaked and sticky. Fresh, living blood dripped in thin strands down the inside of your thighs, and you felt the heat of humiliation rise to your face,

"Jack, darling, please, stop" you begged, your voice choked. "It's horrible. I don't want you to see this."

But he didn't stop. He removed your panties and shorts completely, with a gentle but firm movement and threw them on the floor. His eyes scanned the scene, salivating, the swollen and reddish labia, the blood that trickled slowly, the small dark clots that came loose. Abbot didn't look away, on the contrary, his expression was one of admiration, an almost religious devotion.

"Don't be shy... It's beautiful" murmured the older man and the word sounded so sincere that you felt a lump in your throat. "It's proof that your body is doing what it needs to do. There's nothing wrong, nothing dirty."

He leaned in and before you could protest, his lips found the skin of your inner thigh, kissing the trail of blood that trickled down. His warm, soft lips traced an upward path, licking the fresh blood, tasting the metallic flavor, as you gasped in shock, your body shuddering not with pain, but with an excitement that surprised you.

"J-jack... What are you doing?" you panted, your fingers threading into the grey strands of his hair.

Abbot looked up at you and the sight of his mouth stained red, the gleam in his dark eyes, was so erotic and so disturbing that you felt your heart race and your mouth fall open in a gasping sigh. "I'm showing you that none of this drives me away" he said, his voice rough. "Every part of you is desirable. Even this. Especially this."

He slid his hand between your thighs, his fingers finding their way through the moisture that was both blood and excitement. Jack didn't touch your clitoris immediately, instead, he traced slow circles around it, caressing the inner lips with a deliberate pressure, feeling the warmth of the blood still trickling. His fingers turned red and he lifted them to you, his light irises swallowed by the black of lust, then he brought the dirty digits to his mouth, licking them with deliberate slowness.

"The iron in blood is essential for hemoglobin production," the doctor explained, knowing how you got excited when he demonstrated knowledge. A mischievous smile curving his stained lips. "And testosterone, which is also present in small amounts, can increase libido. Do you feel that? Your body wants pleasure, even now."

Then he inserted a finger inside you and the sensation of the movement, combined with the moisture of the blood, was strangely delicious. The internal pressure relieved some of the congestion and you moaned, arching your hips towards his hand.

"See" he continued, his voice a murmur against your skin, as he inserted a second finger. "The blood acts as a natural lubricant, reducing friction. And the vasodilation caused by arousal increases blood flow, helping to expel clots more quickly. It's a self-cleaning mechanism, hm?"

He curved his fingers inward, finding the G-spot and massaged it with firm, steady movements, while his thumb finally found the needy clitoris, still covered by the hood. The pressure was precise, alternating between slow circles, quick and light touches. Pleasure built up in waves that crashed against the shores of your pain, subduing it. You grabbed his arm, your fingers digging into the freckled skin, arching your back against the sofa.

With each movement, the blood flowed more abundantly, running down his fingers and staining his hand, dripping onto the sofa. In another situation you would be angry about ruining the upholstery, but at that moment neither you nor he cared. Jack plunged his fingers in again, feeling the clots come loose and removed them, bringing them to his mouth once more, looking at your panting, messy face. The taste was intense and completely different, the sight of him savoring your essence with such devotion was what finally broke the last barrier of your shame.

"Darling... please.." you panted, no longer knowing if you were asking him to stop or continue.

Abbot leaned over you, his dirty mouth finding one of your breasts, his warm, red-stained lips closing around the nipple, sucking with an intensity that made your body shudder. His tongue traced wet circles around the areola, teasing, while his fingers continued their work down below, the blood running down your belly, creating a red trail that he kissed with each movement. You were a tearful, trembling mess.

"When you reach climax" he whispered against your skin "The orgasmic contractions will help expel the residual endometrium. It's a way for the body to get rid of what it no longer needs and the released endorphins will transform this pain into pleasure."

He quickened the rhythm of his fingers, his thumb pressing more firmly on the clitoris, while his mouth moved from your chest to your neck, leaving red marks that weren't just from kisses. His free hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him, as he slid in a third finger, stretching you deliciously. Then he went down and his lips left your neck, traveled down your sternum, down your belly, licking the blood that pooled. He reached your center and you felt his warm breath against your clitoris, the excitement so intense it almost hurt.

"Let me taste you" he murmured in a muffled voice, his nose pressed against your mons pubis. "Everything. The blood, the pleasure, the pain. Everything."

His tongue flattened and found your clitoris, the first touch was an explosion of sensation.

The softness of the tongue, the calculated pressure, the blood that flowed and he licked as if it were the most precious nectar. The wet muscle found the clitoris, sucking it, his fingers continued inside you, moving in a rhythm that matched the circles his tongue drew.

You lost track of time. The world was reduced to his touch, to the wet and obscene sound of his mouth and fingers, to the characteristic smell of blood in the air. The pain was still there, but it was a distant presence, a whisper muffled by the roar of pleasure that grew within you.

"Jack... Fuck, I'm close..." you panted, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him against you, making his nose press against your warm skin and you were sure he was a mess of menstrual blood, your hips moving on their own at that point. Using him as your pleasure valve and pain healer.

Jack responded with a low moan, vibrating against your skin and intensified the movement of his tongue, alternating between wide licks and pinpoint pressures, while his fingers curved inward, finding that point that made you see stars.

When the orgasm came, it was like a violent and at the same time gentle release. The contractions of your vagina around his fingers were strong and rhythmic, pulsing in a cadence that seemed to echo in every cell of your body. A hoarse cry escaped your lips, while your body arched, your toes curling under the sofa and your hands pulling his hair with desperate force, Jack moaned at the burning of your unconscious brutality.

And Jack didn't stop, he accompanied you through the climax, his tongue and fingers continuing the movement until the last tremors subsided. When he finally pulled away, his lips, his chin and his hands were stained red. He looked like he had stepped out of a primitive and abstract painting, his eyes shining with satisfaction.

You both looked at each other, panting, then Jack leaned in and kissed your gasping lips, you tasted your own blood on his lips. It was strange and intense, deeply intimate. When he pulled away, a soft smile curved his stained lips.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a murmur full of a genuine concern that overlaid the satisfaction of the moment.

You remained still for a long moment, processing. The pain had disappeared, you knew it would return and that after the peak of pleasure it would become a diffuse presence, a distant echo of the previous torment.

"Yes" you replied, still trembling and breathless. You were a sight, thighs and abdomen and breasts dirty with your own blood that Abbot had spread with his mouth, Jack felt his cock pulse inside his underwear wet with pre-ejaculation released by the simple pleasure of giving you pleasure. "It's... better. Much better."

You blinked at his face all stained with blood on the sides of his lips and on his thin beard, at his red hands, feeling a wave of gratitude and love wash over you.

"You are completely crazy, Jack Abbott." he laughed, a low, warm sound and kissed your forehead, leaving a red mark there.

"Crazy about you" he corrected. "And science, my love, never lies." said the older man as he got up and went to the bathroom, returning a little while later with a warm, damp towel. Soon he cleaned the blood from your thighs, your belly and breasts, each movement careful as if he were performing a sacred act. Jack murmured that he would take care of the stained sofa later, just disappeared into the master bedroom, bringing a clean pajama, along with new panties and a pad, dressing you comfortably before finally taking you to bed. Then, he wrapped you in the duvet and heated a new hot water bottle, leaving you satisfied and lighter in the bedroom. The older man then went to the kitchen, preparing a ginger tea with lemon. He sat on the mattress and held the cup for you, helping you drink.

You drank in satisfied sips, feeling cared for and loved, your smaller hand took his and squeezed, feeling the warmth of gratitude flood your chest. The pain was still there, but it was no longer an insurmountable wall, it was just an obstacle that, with his help, you could get around. You were emotional now.

"Love... you didn't mind the blood" you murmured, your voice choked. "The mess and..." you gestured "Everything..."

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers, still with the metallic taste in his mouth, his greenish eyes met yours and the sincerity in them was almost overwhelming.

"I never minded" he said simply "There is nothing in you that is dirty or wrong and I want all the parts of your life, the beautiful and the difficult, the clean and the bloody..." he joked at the end of the sentence before continuing "You are mine, in every cycle, in every pain, in every pleasure. There is no shame here, love. Just me and you."

You felt the hot tears flow again, but this time they weren't from pain. They were from relief and acceptance, from a love so deep it seemed to transcend anything you had ever known.

'I love you, Jack" you whispered and he smiled, leaning his forehead and nose against yours.

"I love you too, my love. Forever."

Your presence there was already commonplace; being a good old friend of Joshua's, you started frequenting the house ever since he felt comfortable enough to bring you there. Of course, you didn't know everything about the Codys and Josh thought it was better that way and you also didn't care about the mysteries that family held, because just being able to have a little bit of Andrew Cody made it all worth it.

You found it cute the way he totally lost focus when you showed up at the house and especially on hot days when his nephew invited you for a dip in the pool, your eyes noticed how the man some years older than you almost drooled with delight at the sight of you there.

It was in this setting of sun-drenched languor that Andrew completely lost any remaining shred of decency. He was reclining on one of the more distant wooden loungers, under the partial shade of a canvas umbrella with a beer bottle sweating in his hands. Until that moment, his honey-colored eyes, covered by dark sunglasses, wandered distractedly over your body in the landscape, the reflection of light on the water, the cigarette burning slowly between his long fingers.

Then, you leaned forward to reach the bottle of tanning lotion on the table again and Andrew felt as if he were in the worst heist in the world, his heart racing and throat dry in pure adrenaline. The sight of your bare back, the perfect curve of your spine that his lascivious eyes followed until they reached the two dimples at the end of your hip, the subtle movement of your shoulders... That was the first blow.

The second came when you turned around, still with the tanning lotion in hand, and he could contemplate the complete spectacle, an almost private little show where your breasts, firm and full, rested on the triangle of fabric like ripe fruits and the soft skin of your chest shining with the moisture of your sweat mixed with the pool water. The line of your neck, the prominent collarbone, the small space between your breasts where a drop of water stubbornly insisted on running down, tracing a slow path until disappearing into the fabric.

Pope's mouth was dry and he bet that even with the dark glasses it was noticeable that he was devouring you with his gaze, the beer bottle almost slipped when you daringly pulled the bikini straps to apply more of the product, but Andrew caught himself at the last instant.

He knew he should stop staring at you, stop observing and desiring you, but it was impossible; his eyes traveled over you like an explorer in unknown land, devouring every detail with a hunger that bordered on cannibalism. He followed the trail of water that still ran down from your body, the way the drops gathered on the inner curve of your thigh before running down your calf and getting lost on the ceramic floor. He observed how the light, almost non-existent breeze made the ends of your wet hair curl against your nape, how the small strands of hair stuck to your temple.

His jaw relaxed, his lips parted slightly, and for a moment, Andrew's expression completely fell apart. There was something animalistic in his gaze now; he looked like a man who had just discovered thirst after years in the desert and you were the only source of water in sight

You felt the weight of that gaze on your skin and there was something magnetic in that sensation, an electricity that ran down your spine every time you noticed Andrew Cody's eyes fixed on you, even if hidden behind the dark lenses of the sunglasses. It was a secret knowledge that you kept to yourself like a precious treasure, the certainty that you were capable of dismantling that man with a simple movement.

The warm breeze danced around your body and you let your fingers slide slowly over your thigh, spreading more of the tanning lotion than was necessary, with deliberate calm. You felt the damp fabric of the bikini against your skin, the way it adjusted, and you knew exactly the effect that sight provoked in Andrew.

Your eyes turned to him for an instant, just long enough to confirm what you already suspected. Andrew's body was rigid on the lounger, his jaw clenched, the muscles of his neck tense and you could swear you saw a light layer of sweat on his forehead that had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

With a mischievous smile on your lips, you decided it was time to intensify that little game you had dominated since the moment you arrived at the house. Leaning back, you placed your hands on the lounger and stretched your legs, elongating your body like a lazy cat. Your bust lifted with the movement, the bikini fabric stretching dangerously over the generous curve of your chest. You saw Andrew's fingers contract around the bottle, his knuckles turning white.

The noise of the pool water, the distant laughter of the other residents, all of it seemed to have dissolved into an irrelevant mist. The world had reduced itself to that small stage where you performed with Andrew as your one and most dedicated audience. You ran your fingers through your still-damp hair, throwing your head back in a movement that exposed the long line of your neck, a silent invitation you knew he couldn't refuse.

"It's hot today, don't you think?" your voice came out lower than necessary, a purr filled with ill-intentioned intimacy.

Andrew didn't answer immediately and you knew why. The words seemed to have gotten lost somewhere between the sight of your wet legs and the curve of your waist. When he finally had a reaction, it wasn't exactly a verbal answer, but something like an uncomfortable grumble due to the palpable tension forming around both of you.

"Hm..." he emitted, the echo sounding distant, as if he wasn't sure how to react.

You smiled broadly, your plump lips stretching over your pretty face, then your body rose from the lounger with calculated grace, every movement designed to maximize the impact it would have on the older man. The sun behind you created a silhouette that accentuated every curve of your body and you felt Andrew's gaze run over it almost like a physical caress. As you passed by him toward the leisure area table to grab a soda, you made a point of staying close, near enough that he could smell the tanning lotion mixed with your perfume and the chlorine from the pool.

The minibar was a few steps from Andrew's lounger, a distance that you covered with slowness and you knew that the small flower knots that held the sides of the bikini were on display, a detail you bet Andrew hadn't let go unnoticed. When you leaned over to grab a can, you felt the bikini fabric adjust to the curves of your bottom and knew he was watching.

It was then that you made the boldest decision of the day and with the can in hand, you turned to face him, your eyes meeting directly through the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn't look away and neither did he. That moment of eye contact was a silent confession, an admission that both were aware of the game unfolding between you.

"Are you watching me, Andy?" your question was a whisper, the use of the affectionate nickname that only you used carried the weight of a declaration. At first the older man didn't answer. His lips curved into a smile that was at once guilty and defiant.

"It would be impossible not to watch" he confessed at last.

"You are... a sight hard to ignore."

You felt your blood heat under your skin, an excitement that ran through your body like an electric current. Andrew had finally admitted it and that only encouraged you to continue. You approached him, your steps silent against the ceramic floor and carrying the cold can between your fingers. Each step was a question and Andrew remained motionless.

When you finally stood in front of him in fact, with the shadow of the umbrella covering you both, you felt powerful. He was sitting and you standing, a position that gave you a momentary advantage. You tilted your body slightly forward, your breasts getting closer to his face, you noticed Andrew's breathing becoming shorter, his lips parting while his ears turned reddish.

"And what exactly are you seeing?" you asked, your voice still low, almost a little secret between the two of you.

Andrew's eyes, even hidden, seemed to burn through the dark lenses. His hand contracted and for a moment you thought he was going to touch you, but he just adjusted the dark glasses on his face, as if he needed a physical barrier against the intensity of the moment.

"I'm seeing a girl who knows exactly what she's doing," he replied with that low, dangerous tone, there was a note of admiration in his voice. "A little girl who is testing the limits to see how far she can go."

You smiled, a slow and satisfied smile. He had understood the game and that made everything more exciting. With a graceful movement, you sat on the edge of the lounger so close as to touch him, but close enough for the energy between you to become almost palpable. Andrew could feel your warmth. You crossed your legs, the gesture making the skin of your thigh stretch softly under the sunlight.

"And are you liking what you're seeing?" you asked, the final question, the one that would decide the course of the rest of the afternoon.

Andrew took off his dark glasses slowly, revealing those honey-colored eyes you so appreciated. Without the barrier of the lenses, the intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming and you held back a sigh. He studied you as if memorizing every detail of your face, the path the light made on your skin, the way your lips curved into a provocative smile.

"Hm, yeah" he admitted with honesty. "And I think you know that very well."

The confirmation was all you needed. You placed the coke can on the floor, the game had reached a new level and you definitely had no intention of backing down. With a slow, deliberate movement, you leaned toward him, your faces now separated by only a few centimeters.

You glimpsed Andrew's intense eyes, the molasses color at the edges being gradually dominated by the black dilation of his pupils. His curly hair in that brownish tone that reminded you of a hot ember. His bare chest full of freckles that made your fingers itch to touch, but not yet. Not yet.

"Well" you whispered, leaning in even more and feeling your bust press against his forearm, your lips almost brushing the older man's ear. "What are you going to do about it, Andy?"

The question hung in the air like an incandescent ember, burning the reduced space between you. You felt Andrew's body contract under the pressure of your bust against his forearm, his breathing becoming irregular, where each exhale came followed by a small tremor that you could feel vibrating through your skin. The honey-colored eyes darkened even more, the dilated pupils consuming the iris like a fire spreading through a dry forest.

Andrew remained motionless for a long moment, where it gave you the sensation of almost hearing the gears of his self-control wearing down under the weight of your proximity. The hand that was resting on the lounger closed slowly, the knuckles turning white under the tension. You saw the movement of his throat when Andrew swallowed dry, the Adam's apple rising and falling in a gesture that was almost a prayer.

"What am I going to do about it?" he repeated, his voice so low it was almost a growl, a sound that came from the depths of his chest. "Are you sure you want to know the answer to that question?"

There was a warning in his words, a fine line between desire and caution, because despite everything you knew the 'danger' that Pope Cody could mean, however you hadn't come this far to back down. Your fingers found their way to his arm, sliding over the hot, salty skin, tracing random patterns that seemed to make Andrew's muscles contract under your touch.

"I never ask questions I don't want answers to" you whispered, your lips still close to his ear, your warm breath caressing the sensitive skin and making the curls at his temple move slightly. "So, Andy... what are you going to do?"

The last word had barely left your lips when Andrew moved. It was fast, a fluid and determined movement that surprised you with its intensity. He rose from the lounger in a single movement and you found yourself being pulled up with him, his hands finding your hips in a firm grip that made it clear there was no hesitation in his gestures.

"You want to know?" his voice was hoarse, his dark eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being undressed not only of the bikini you wore, but of all your defenses. "Come with me."

It wasn't an invitation. It was an order, delivered with an authority that made your heart race in a way no previous provocation had managed. Andrew didn't wait for a verbal answer, his hand slid from your hips to your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours with a familiarity that seemed to suggest he had done this a thousand times before, even though it was the first time.

Andrew pulled you away from the pool area, his steps long and determined as he guided you through the sunny garden toward the house. You felt the warmth of his hand against yours, the way his fingers tightened with a force that was at once possessive and careful. Everything became a distant buzz, irrelevant in the face of what was about to happen.

The sliding glass door that led to the older Cody's immaculate bedroom opened, yielding under the pressure of Andrew's free hand, you entered the cool dimness of the room. The contrast between the scorching heat of the sun and the freezing air conditioning made your skin shiver, the small hairs on your arms standing up in an involuntary response. Andrew noticed, his eyes traveling over your arms before settling again on your face.

"Cold now?" he asked, his voice still hoarse, but now with a tone of concern that contrasted with the intensity of seconds before. This duality of his was so natural, always oscillating between seriousness, protection, and neediness. So different from the violent Pope the rest of California knew.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "It's not cold that's making me tremble."

Andrew's eyes darkened again, the concern giving way to something deeper, more urgent. He pulled you closer, your body finding his in a perfect fit that made you hold your breath. The hand that still held yours released, and both hands found your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles over the tanned, bare skin exposed above the waistband of the bikini.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he murmured, his forehead leaning to touch yours, his eyes closed for a moment as if he were trying to collect himself. "Every day you show up here, wearing those tiny clothes, those bikinis... Fuck, you know how those damn bikinis drive me crazy. Do you think I don't notice? Do you think I don't see what you're doing?"

His hands slid from your waist to your back, his fingers finding the dimples at the end of your spine, tracing the path of the water that earlier ran down your skin. You felt his touch like a burning brand, each point of contact a small burn of desire that spread.

"And what am I doing?" you asked, your voice coming out weaker than you intended, the provocation giving way to a vulnerability you hadn't planned to reveal.

Andrew opened his eyes, and what you saw in them made you forget how to breathe. It wasn't just desire, although there was plenty of that. It was admiration, it was reverence, it was a kind of devotion that seemed out of place in a man like him. The man who always seemed so controlled, so distant, so impossible to reach.

"You're taking me apart piece by piece" he replied, his voice a hoarse whisper that seemed to come from somewhere very deep inside him. "And you don't even have to do anything other than exist. You drive me completely crazy and I hate how much I like it."

One of his hands found your face, squeezing his fingers and then sliding along the curve of your jaw, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a lightness that contrasted with the intensity of his gaze and touch. You felt your heart beat so hard you were sure he could hear it, each pulsation echoing in the silence of the room.

"Andrew..." you began, but the words died on your lips when he tilted his face, his lips hovering a minimal distance from yours.

"You want to know what I'm going to do about it?" he asked, his warm breath mixing with yours. "I'm going to spend the next few hours showing exactly what you do to me. And when I'm done, you won't remember what life was like before knowing what it is to be desired by me."

The promise in his words was like an electric shock, running through your body from head to toe. You opened your mouth in a totally mute moan, your eyebrows furrowed in pure ecstasy of desire as you felt your knees weaken, Andrew's hand that wasn't on your face squeezed your waist, holding you steady.

"Show me... If you're capable."

A slow and dangerous smile spread across Andrew's lips, a smile that was, definitively, a threat. "Then you'll have to bear the consequences of your words" he replied, and before you could process what that meant, he pulled you closer, his lips finally finding yours.

The kiss was everything you imagined and more. It wasn't gentle nor hesitant, it was hunger, it was too much time of repressed desire breaking free all at once. Andrew's lips moved against yours with a breathless urgency, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck to hold you in place, the other squeezing your waist with a force that made you feel anchored, surely the next day there would be marks of his digits on your skin.

You responded to the kiss with equal intensity, your hands finding their way to the dark curls of his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you pulled him closer, moaning against the other's mouth. He made a low sound against your lips, a muffled groan that vibrated through your body and spread like fire through your veins. There was so much tongue and saliva, it was messy and desperate, pure reflection of the burning desire that was unleashed by both.

The hand that was on your nape slid to your back, his fingers finding the tiny knots that held the sides of your bikini. You felt his fingers playing with the strings, a slow and deliberate movement that promised what was to come.

Andrew pulled you, each step was a dance, bodies touching, adjusting, anticipating what was to come. His large palm found yours again, his fingers intertwined as he led you to the bed and you could only notice his robust, masculine build, the veins constrasting against the freckles on his shoulders and along his big arms.

Andrew laid you on his neatly made bed, covering your outlined and delicious body over yours, a wall of heat against you, his lips finding yours again with an urgency that seemed to have increased in the few seconds you had been apart. His thick fingers found your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fragrant skin of the tanning lotion and the slight coolness of the pool, removing from there the last remnants of the water drops that still insisted on running down.

"You're so beautiful" Cody murmured, his lips leaving yours to trace a path along your jaw, descending to your neck and biting the skin. "So beautiful... Fuck."

You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your neck, a sigh escaping your lips when his teeth found the sensitive skin below your ear.

"Andrew..." your whisper was a prayer, a request, an invitation. You wanted to give everything to him, body and soul.

He responded with a movement of his hips against yours, a gesture that made clear exactly what he wanted, exactly what he was willing to give. His hands found the thin straps of your bikini again, his fingers sliding under the fabric, skin finding skin in a contact that was at once intimate and insufficient.

With his fingertips, he found the knots of your bikini, his fingers playing with the strings, to finally pull one of the knots, watching mesmerized the fabric coming loose with a quick movement. The breeze of the air conditioning touched the now exposed skin and you felt a shiver run through your body. Andrew's eyes followed the movement of the falling fabric, and there was something almost devotional in his gaze.

"Look at you" he murmured, his voice full of admiration, hoarse and drawn out. "Perfect. Simply perfect."

You felt the blood rise to your cheeks under the weight of that gaze, but there was no shame in you, only an excitement that grew with every second and in response your fingers slid over the hot, defined skin of his belly. Andrew held his breath when your fingers touched there, you felt the abdominal muscles contract under your touch.

"You're not the only one who can tease" you whispered, a mischievous smile touching your lips.

Andrew let out a low laugh and shook his head, his curls bouncing and the expression lines beside his eyes becoming more visible. "You're a little temptation," he said, leaning in to kiss you again. "And I'm about to taste every piece of you."

The kiss was slower this time, more exploratory, as if he had decided he had all the time in the world and maybe, at that moment, you both did. Time seemed to have stopped, the world reduced to that room, to that bed, to that man who looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered. His hands found your body with a familiarity that seemed ancient, as if he had already mapped every curve, every corner, every secret of your skin and you let yourself be carried away, surrendering to that moment with a trust that came from knowing you were exactly where you should be.

"I want to taste you" the older man said, pulling away, a thread of saliva still connecting your mouths and for you it was impossible not to move your hips forward in search of contact.

The confession was a shock of electricity, running through your body and concentrating on a hot spot at the center of your being. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips when he would finally give attention to your breasts.

Andrew stopped for a moment, his eyes traveling over the sight that presented itself before him as if he were contemplating a rare work of art. Your breasts were firm and full, your nipples already hardened by the cold air and excitement, the golden-toned shine that seemed more vibrant under the light that came through the windows.

"God in heaven" he whispered, his voice hoarse and full of admiration. "Look at you. I knew they were beautiful, but this... this is almost too much for a man to bear."

His hand found one of your breasts, his calloused palm sliding over the soft skin with a pressure that was at once firm and reverent. His thumb found your nipple, tracing circles around the sensitive tip until you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The older man's fingertips were rough, marks of a job he didn't need to do, but that he chose to do for the family and each point of contact was a shock of sensations. You tilted your head back, your eyes closing as you surrendered to the sensation of his hands exploring your body.

"Look at me" he ordered, his voice low, but firm. "I want to see your eyes when I touch you."

You obeyed, your eyes finding his while Andrew's hand squeezed your breast with more force, his fingers finding your nipple and grazing it with a precision that made your knees tremble. The smile that spread across Andrew's lips was at once satisfied and dangerous.

"Good girl" he murmured with approval sounding in his voice, making your body respond in a way you didn't expect. "You like that, don't you? Being watched. Being desired. Knowing that you're the only thing I can see when you're around."

The hand that was still on your hip slid back, finding the curve of your bottom, his fingers squeezing the flesh with a force over the only piece that still covered you, making you gasp. Andrew leaned forward, his lips finding your neck in a kiss that was more bite than caress.

"That ass... Fuck" Andrew murmured against your skin, his voice a muffled growl. "You have no idea what that hot ass does to me when you walk by the pool. When you lean over to pick something up. When you wear those tiny bikinis that barely cover..."

He squeezed again, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh and you felt a moan escape your lips, a sound that seemed to encourage him even more. The hand that was on your breast slid down, his fingers tracing the path of your belly, stopping at the curve of your hip before continuing downward.

"Do you know how many times I've imagined this, baby?" he asked, his voice even lower, hoarser, as if he were sharing a secret he had never said out loud. "How many nights I stayed awake thinking about how you would be beneath me. About how your legs would feel wrapped around my waist. About how you would moan when I fucked that tight little pussy..."

The words left you breathless and you realized you were as lost as he was. Your hands found their way to his well-defined trapezius and scratching, pulling him closer as he watched you with an amused smile.

Despite being a good few years older, Andrew Cody was a sight that took your breath away. His broad chest, the defined muscles that contracted under the soft skin, the brownish chest hair in a reddish tone, fine strands that started at the center of his chest and descended in a line that disappeared at the waistband of his pants. The freckles scattered under his skin like constellations you wanted to orbit. His skin was warm to the touch, and when your fingers finally found their way to his chest, you felt Andrew hold his breath.

"You're so handsome" you murmured, the words escaping before you could hold them back.

He laughed softly, in that restrained way but that vibrated through his chest under your fingers. "Handsome?" he repeated, the incredulity in his voice making you smile.

"You're calling me handsome while you're almost naked in front of me? I think you're confusing things, sweetheart."

But there was a sparkle in his eyes, a satisfaction he couldn't hide, and you knew he had liked what you said. Your hands found the waistband of his shorts, your fingers sliding under the waistband, the warm skin under your fingers making your heart race.

"I think you're wearing too many clothes" you said, your voice a whisper that was at once a request and a provocation.

Andrew tilted his head, his dark eyes fixed on yours while your fingers worked on the fastening of his pants. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Because when these clothes come off, there's no going back. You'll have to deal with the consequences."

"Those are the consequences I want" you replied, your voice firm despite the tremor that ran through your body.

The shorts yielded under your fingers and in a fluid movement fell, leaving him only in swim trunks. Andrew's eyes never left yours as he leaned in to kiss you again and the kiss was everything you remembered and more.

The sensation of his skin against yours was a revelation, every inch of contact a discovery. You felt his hands find your bottom again, squeezing with a force that pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours in a way that made clear exactly what he wanted.

"You're addictive" he murmured against your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper. "You're the most dangerous drug I've ever tried."

His hand slid between your bodies, finding the center of your desire. His fingers found their way through the wetness that already gathered, tracing patterns that made your body arch against his.

"You're already so wet" he said, the admiration and desire palpable in his voice. "Were you like this since the pool? Or was it only when I brought you here?"

"Andrew, please..." you gasped, the words escaping before you could control them.

"Please, what?" he asked, his fingers continuing their slow and deliberate movement. "You're going to have to be more specific, honey. What do you want? What do you need?"

His fingers found the most sensitive spot, pressing the nerves with the exact precision needed to make you arch. His thumb circling against your swollen clit, while you squeezed at nothing, wanting something to fill you. He held your thigh firmly, held tight, his eyes fixed on yours while he now penetrated you with two of his thick fingers.

"I want you" you said with need, your nails scratching the older man's bare torso, your eyes overflowing with desire just like your pussy. "I want you inside me."

Andrew smiled, revealing his slightly misaligned teeth, which you would find cute and boyish if that same man weren't with his fingers buried in your pussy.

"I know you want it" he replied, his voice low and full of promises. "But it's not going to be that easy. You spent the whole day teasing me, driving me crazy, and now you're going to have to take it."

His fingers withdrew, leaving you feeling a sudden emptiness, he arranged you on the mattress and your skin shivered with the soft comforter against your bare skin and in a second, Andrew was over you, his body covering yours, his weight an anchor that kept you in the present moment.

"You're so beautiful like this" he said, his eyes traveling over your body with an intensity that made your skin warm under his gaze. "You have no idea what you do to me. How I get when you're around. How I get hard just thinking about you."

His words were direct, raw and each one was a shock of excitement that ran through your core. His hand found your breast again, his fingers squeezing with a force that made your body arch against him.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "When I touch you like this?"

"Yes" you replied, your voice a sigh. "Yes, I like it."

He continued, his hand squeezing harder. "Do you like when I kiss them? When I suck them until you can't think of anything else?" The question was a provocation, an invitation to a game you were eager to play.

"Yes" you repeated, your voice hoarser now. "I want you to do all that to me."

Andrew didn't need to hear anything else. He tilted his head, his mouth finding your breast with a hunger that took your breath away. The sensation of his hot mouth around your nipple was almost unbearable, a wave of pleasure that ran through your body like an electric current. His tongue traced circles around the sensitive tip before sucking with a pressure that made your hips rise against his.

"You're so sweet" he murmured, his voice muffled against your wet breast. "I could spend hours devouring you, tasting you..."

His mouth moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin with a precision that made your body tremble under him. His hands found your hips, his fingers squeezing the flesh while he moved, his body pressing against yours, the evidence of his desire palpable against your thigh.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice a growl as he pressed his hips against yours. "Do you feel what you do to me?"

"Uhum" you moaned, the sound a mix of desire and surrender. "Oh, fuck, Andrew, yes..."

He moved over you, his lips tracing a path of kisses and bites from your chest to your belly, each touch a promise of what was to come. When he reached the curve of your hip, he stopped, his eyes finding yours while his fingers played with the elastic of the bikini bottom, which you still wore.

His hand found its way through the floral fabric, his fingers pressing against the spot where your body was already wet and eager from the previous caresses. You gasped, your hips rising against the pressure of his fingers, a moan escaping your lips.

"You think you can come here, wearing those tiny bikinis that drive everyone crazy" he whispered against your skin, his voice a muffled growl. "You think you can tease me all day and then ask politely for me to fuck you?"

His free hand delivered a slap to your bottom, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh with a force that made you feel completely dominated. You felt the weight of his body against yours, the way he kept you motionless under him.

"You're going to have to beg" he continued, his voice a hoarse whisper. "You're going to have to show me how much you want it. How much you need it. And when you finally beg nicely, maybe, just maybe, I'll give you everything you want."

His hand found the waistband of the bikini bottom, his fingers sliding under the fabric, finding the warm, wet skin again. You felt his fingers trace a slow path through your wetness, pressing against the most sensitive spot with a precision that made your body tremble.

"You're so wet" he murmured, his voice full of admiration. "So wet, so hot, so ready for me. And I haven't even started yet."

His fingers found your entrance, pressing with a lightness that was at once an invitation and a torture. You felt your body open for him, your muscles contracting around his fingers as he inserted them slowly, one at a time.

"This's so good" you gasped, your eyes closing as he moved his fingers inside you, the rhythm slow and deliberate, each movement a promise of what was to come. "Please... don't stop."

His fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing against your clit as he led you toward the edge, and you felt pleasure building like a wave about to break. His mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he whispered obscene words against your skin.

"Do you like this?" he asked, his voice a muffled growl. "Do you like feeling my fingers inside you?"

"Yes, yes, please..." you moaned, your hips moving against his hand, seeking more, always more.

"You're already so close" he murmured, his fingers moving faster. "I want to see you come. I want to feel your body tremble around my fingers. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you lose control."

The words were the final push you needed. Your body arched against him, your mouth opening. Pleasure flooding you in waves that seemed to have no end, your fingers clung to his shoulders, moans escaping your lips like a prayer.

"Andrew!" your scream echoed through the room and he kissed you, swallowing the sounds of your pleasure with a kiss that was at once possessive and passionate.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you lay breathless under him, your body still trembling with the aftermath of what had just happened. He pulled away to look at you, his dark eyes full of a satisfaction that was at once dangerous and seductive.

"That was just the beginning" he said, his voice a hoarse growl. "Now it's my turn."

You remembered perfectly the first time you saw him smile, not that tight, mechanical smile he used when trying to fit into social situations, but a genuine smile that was born at the corners of his lips and spread slowly, as if his own face was relearning the movement. It was a rainy night, in your small apartment, when he arrived with his hair and clothes wet, in his hands he clutched a bouquet of flowers totally crumpled and equally wet, you bit your lips upon seeing that the big man was embarrassed to show up there so suddenly and in the middle of a storm.

You ended up laughing, but it wasn't a malicious laugh and fortunately Andrew knew how to identify that, because in your laughter there was a sweetness so genuine that it made his hazel eyes shine with an intensity he would never forget.

"I think I never learned how to do this right" he murmured, handing over the flowers as one hands over a piece of oneself. "Giving things and... Receiving affection. Being... normal."

Your eyes widened, full of surprise and affection for that so special man who entered your life and took your heart without intention. You looked at the flowers, at him in front of you, so out of place and insecure. You ignored the flowers and pulled his free hand, bringing Cody inside your apartment, without letting go of the taller man's wrist, you caressed the dermis cold from the rainwater, feeling the roughness and the scars that told stories he wasn't yet ready to share.

"You don't need to be normal, Andrew. You just need to be you."

Four years and Andrew Cody could finally say he had a real family. The traumatized man had found in your arms a place to call home, a refuge where the voices of the past gradually diminished until they became just distant whispers. The therapy sessions, which in the beginning he viewed with skepticism and resistance, became anchors that kept him steady when anxiety threatened to drag him back to the abyss and little by little he learned that asking for help wasn't a weakness, but rather the greatest demonstration of strength a man could have.

Now in the quiet of the night, he watched through the baby monitor the room illuminated by the moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, where the light wooden crib he himself had built creaked softly with the sleepy movements of the baby. The oldest of the house sighed and turned his head in bed, looking at you sleeping, your hair spread across the pillow and your chest rising and falling in a tranquil rhythm that had long ago become his favorite sight.

The fact was, Andrew couldn't sleep. Not when the little one in the next room had had a fever during the afternoon and he had spent hours awake, alternating between cold water cloths and the thermometer, whispering lullabies he himself had composed on the days when anxiety tightened his chest. You had insisted he rest, promising you would take care of the night watch, but Andrew was stubborn and that clearly was a trait he had inherited from Smurf, although he hated to admit it.

The man turned again to the baby monitor, seeing through the dimness the baby move in the little crib. "Daddy's going to take care of you, princess" he whispered to his daughter, even though she couldn't hear him from the other room. "Daddy's always going to take care of you."

It was then that a soft movement beside him caught his attention. You had woken up, your eyes still bleary with sleep, but a smile already forming on your lips at seeing the scene.

"You should be sleeping" you murmured, your voice hoarse from interrupted rest. Andrew turned his face slowly, as if emerging from a dream.

"She seemed restless through the baby monitor. I couldn't..." He hesitated, and you saw the ghost of guilt cross his features for an instant. "I couldn't leave her alone, even from here."

You sat up in bed, the sheet sliding over your shoulders and giving your husband a glimpse of your satin pajamas, but soon his attention went to your fingers, when you extended your hand in his direction. Andrew took it instantly, like someone clinging to a lifeline in a stormy sea. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you felt the slight tremor that ran through his body, a tremor he could never completely hide, no matter how hard he tried.

"She's better now" you said, with the calm that only the certainty of a mother can provide. "The fever went down hours ago. You can rest, darling."

Andrew shook his head, a gentle stubbornness shining in his eyes. "I know. But what if..." He didn't finish the sentence, he didn't need to. You knew the demons that haunted him, the voices that whispered he wasn't good enough, that everything he loved would be torn from his hands as a punishment for his past sins.

You moved closer to your husband, the rustle of the blankets being a comforting sound, but Andrew resisted for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the electronic screen, but after another pull from you and a grumble, he finally gave in, letting himself fall beside you with a sigh that seemed to carry all the weariness in the world.

You wrapped him in your arms, feeling the rigidity of his muscles gradually dissolve against your body.

"Listen to me" you whispered, your mouth close to his ear, both intertwined in bed. "Our daughter is fine. I am fine. You are fine. We are safe, Andrew. No one is going to take us from you."

He closed his eyes and you felt the hot tears that ran silently down his face, wetting the curve of your neck. The old Andrew Cody didn't cry, at least not in front of the family and especially not Smurf, but with you, he had learned that vulnerability wasn't a weakness but rather a way of transcribing his emotions.

"I love you so much it sometimes hurts" he confessed with his voice muffled against your skin. "It hurts to think about everything that could have happened, about everything I did, about all the times I almost..." He swallowed hard, his breathing quickening and you felt the effort he was making to maintain control. Therefore you ran your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging to try to relax him. "If I had continued with all that shit... I would never have met you. I would never have had this."

You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, your hands descending from his nape and finding and caressing the sculpted and flushed face, with a tenderness that disarmed any defense he tried to raise. "But you are here, love. You survived and it wasn't by chance. It was because of you, because of the strength you always had in here." You slid your palm down to the taller man's chest, feeling the beats of your husband's calloused heart. "And that you never knew how to recognize."

He laughed, a low and hoarse sound that vibrated against your chest, bringing your foreheads together and rubbing noses. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"Four years of practice" you replied, kissing the tip of his nose. "And I still have a lot to learn."

The silence of the night enveloped them again, but now it was a different silence, lighter and more welcoming. You were embraced with Cody, his big hands sliding over your forearm, in a comforting caress that almost made you fall asleep.

"She has your smile" Andrew murmured, his fingers moving up and tracing abstract patterns on your shoulder. "And your eyes. God, she is so perfect."

"She has your nose" you retorted, laughing softly. "And your stubbornness even as a tiny baby. She's already giving trouble, just like daddy."

He feigned an offended look, but the smile that spread across his face was radiant, illuminating the whole room with a beauty that transcended the physical. "Are you saying I'm stubborn?"

"I'm saying you're the most stubborn man I've ever met" you confirmed, kissing his chin, wrinkling your own nose. "And also the most wonderful. Because your stubbornness is what made you fight for us, for this family, for this life we've built together."

Andrew turned completely to face you, everything moving and for the first time that night, you saw genuine peace in his eyes. The anxiety was still there, like an old scar that never completely disappears, but there was something new too, a silent certainty that he had found his place in the world.

"You saved me" he said and the simplicity of the statement carried a weight that no eloquence could match. "Not just from the bad things. You saved me from myself and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that.

You brought your forehead to his again, breathing the same air, sharing the same moment, feeling him even more on top of you. "You don't need to be worthy. You just need to be you and to be here. With me and with your daughter. That is more than enough."

With that, he kissed you. A sweet and deep kiss, that carried all the gratitude and the love that overflowed from his chest. It was a kiss that said thank you and I love you, a kiss that said everything he still couldn't put into words, because for Andrew Cody you were home in the late afternoon, affection like the summer breeze.

When they parted, Andrew had teary eyes again, from a joy so overwhelming he could barely contain it, smiling then.

"I want another one." He whispered suddenly, his hazel eyes cataloging your frown, confused. "A child. Another baby. I want to see you pregnant again, I want to feel our family growing, I want to..."

You placed a finger on his lips, silencing him with a smile. "Let's take it easy, daddy. Our little one next door is still only six months old and you barely sleep since she was born."

"I sleep enough" the brown-haired man protested, but the yawn that escaped next betrayed his statement. You laughed together, a soft sound that filled the room like music.

"Let's sleep now," you decided, pulling him closer to you. "And tomorrow, if you still want to talk about babies, we can talk. But first, you need to rest."

He gave in, letting you wrap him in your arms, his head resting on your chest, listening to the beats of your heart as if it were the most precious melody in the world. Andrew's eyes closed slowly and for the first time in days, he felt true sleep beginning to envelop him.

"Thanks" he murmured, his voice already slurred by tiredness. "For everything. For every day. For every moment."

You kissed the top of his head, feeling the familiar smell of the shampoo he used, the texture of the hair that was beginning to get more gray with time. "Sleep, love. I am here and I'm definitely not going anywhere."

Andrew Cody, o homem que passou a vida inteira sendo usado, manipulado e descartado, finalmente encontrou a paz. Nos braços da mulher que amava, com a filha dormindo a poucos metros de distância, ele se permitiu acreditar que a felicidade era possível e não apenas uma ilusão passageira, mas uma realidade construída dia após dia, com paciência, amor e a coragem de recomeçar.

Now you were talking animatedly with another man, gesturing excitedly about whatever crap that guy was saying to you. You didn't even realize the predatory look of the person you were talking to and that made your boyfriend so irritated. Damn, you were so good that you couldn't even see the malice in the eyes of the disgusting men who surrounded you. Andrew knew he couldn't act impulsively, go up to you and grab your waist or simply punch that idiot's jaw and stop him from talking to his girl.

No, he changed for you. Andrew took a deep breath and counted to ten, a breathing exercise he was accustomed to in those moments or situations that made him tense. You were the lifeline that pulled him out of the darkness, the sun that illuminated his days of darkness, and Pope Cody would not let his only happiness slip through his hands like slippery sand.

Since you met, about a year and a half ago, you had always been sweet to the older man. Treating him well, respectfully and cautiously, respecting his time and space, letting the rigid and distrustful man blossom like a flower under the sunlight. You knew about his past, you knew the family he had and the darkness his surname carried, but you learned to love him, to respect him, to embrace him and realize that he could be understood and, above all, truly loved, without pressure or blackmail.

Andrew thought it was because of this exacerbated understanding of yours towards him that made him so obsessed with you, with your well-being and safety. Cody was always surveying you, you knew it even if you didn't see it, after all he was almost a protective little dog and despite everything you adored his peculiar way of providing security.

It was for this reason that out of the corner of your eyes you saw your boyfriend's movement towards you, the straight posture highlighting the muscles compressed by the tight black shirt he wore, the closed expression that made you drool in indecent places and damn, he didn't take his eyes off you, you felt the heat rising under your nape with his gaze on you.

When the older man was close enough, he wrapped his large, rough palm around your waist, squeezing lightly as he pulled you backwards, crashing your back against his broad, firm chest. You sighed when he bent down enough for his breath to make the little hairs behind your ear stand on end. He looked firmly at the man who was talking to you, while whispering just for you to hear.

"Everything okay over here, darling?" He asked hoarsely, his body pressing more against yours and making you want to tremble. You just nodded positively, afraid to open your mouth and moan softly at the possessive and territorial way he held you.

The man in front of you, whose name you had already forgotten, if you had even really heard it amidst your animated chatter about trips or cars, saw what was happening in front of him. His eyes, previously shining with an interest that you naively mistook for mere friendliness, now faltered. The predatory confidence he emanated moments before evaporated like smoke upon encountering the silent and implacable wall that was Pope Cody.

"Ah, yes, of course" the man stammered, taking an involuntary step back. The hand he had raised, about to touch your arm to emphasize some foolish point of the conversation, fell inert at his side. "We were just... I mean, she's your...?"

He let the question die in the air, without the courage to complete the sentence. He didn't dare use a term like "friend" or "acquaintance." The way Andrew held you, with the silent possession of someone holding something precious, left no doubt, you were not just an acquaintance or a friend.

You were an extension of him, a territory marked not by words, but by the unequivocal body language he displayed over you.

Andrew didn't answer, didn't blink, nor did he look away. He just sustained the eye contact with the stranger, his expression sculpted in granite, his jaw clenched and thin lips compressed into a straight line. His silence was more eloquent and terrifying than any verbal threat, after all, it was a silence that spoke of a past you had helped to bury, an echo of a man who didn't negotiate, only took. The stranger, finally, got the message and with a brusque nod and an unintelligible murmur of apology, turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd of the event, a rat fleeing the shadow of a bird of prey.

Only then, when the threat had dissipated, did Andrew's hand on your waist relax minimally and the pressure that had previously kept you anchored against his chest transformed into a slow and deliberate caress. His fingers traced a path of fire over the thin fabric of your dress, rising along the curve of your waist and then descending to your hip bone, where he let them rest, warm and heavy, like a mark. You couldn't avoid the slight arching of your back, an almost imperceptible movement that pressed you even more against him. A shiver of pure anticipation snaked down your spine, a mixture of relief and excitement.

"You attract moths to the flame, don't you, my love?" His voice vibrated against the shell of your ear, a rough whisper that was meant to be felt, not just heard. The words were a soft growl, laden with a dark adoration. He didn't blame you. The fault, in his distorted mind, lay with the insects that felt drawn to your brightness. He just saw himself in the eternal role of guardian, ready to ward off those who dared to get too close. "So good... so generous with that smile. And they, idiots, mistake your kindness for an invitation."

You turned your face slowly, the tip of your nose brushing the strong line of his jaw. The unique citrusy scent of his skin enveloped you, a perfume you had forever associated with safety and desire. Your lips almost touched the corner of his mouth as you murmured, your voice a trembling thread of contained pleasure. "You know it's with you I want to be, Andy. Only with you."

Andy. Never Pope or Andrew, to you he was your Andy.

The admission, simple and sincere, seemed to untie something inside him as a deep sigh, which sounded more like a grunt of satisfaction, escaped his lips.

"I know, darling" he replied, his voice still hoarse, but now tinged with a vulnerability that only you had the privilege of witnessing. "That's why I... I just need to be sure. Need to remind myself. And remind them."

The "remind them" was not an empty promise, but a fact consummated with every withering look, every possessive touch. It was the primitive and absolute way with which he loved, a love that terrified him and completed him in equal measures. He pulled away enough so you could turn around, standing face to face with him, but still confined within the protective circle of his arms. His eyes, of that deep and stormy blue, roamed your face as if reading the pages of a sacred book, memorizing every detail, the brightness in your eyes, the slight blush on your cheeks, the way your lips were parted.

"You have no idea what you do to me" he confessed, his voice so low it seemed more like a thought that had escaped from the cages of his self-control. He raised one hand and, with a delicacy that contrasted brutally with the hardness of his body and his reputation, touched your face. The backs of his fingers, calloused and rough, slid along the soft skin of your cheek in a breathtaking caress. "I lived so long in the dark... And then you appeared, my love. Like the dawn, so gradual, patient and inevitable. You didn't try to fix me, you simply... stayed. You saw me entirely and didn't run away."

His voice broke on the last word. The raw emotion in his confession made your heart clench and, at the same time, expand. You covered his hand with yours, keeping it pressed against your face, turning your face to kiss the rough palm. The gesture, so pure and full of affection, made Andrew's pupils dilate, the brownish-green mixture almost completely swallowed by a black of desire and devotion.

"You are my proof that there is something good in the world, and by some miracle, that goodness chose me" he continued, his forehead inclining to touch yours. Your noses touched and the air you shared became rarefied, charged with electricity. "So, yes, I'm going to stay here. I'm going to be the shadow that follows you, the guard dog that growls at anyone who dares to look at you. Because you gave me a second chance and I'm going to spend every second of it ensuring that you feel so safe, so loved, that the idea of belonging to any other world that isn't ours, together, never even crosses your mind."

He paused, his thumb caressing your cupid's bow with hypnotic slowness. A small, dangerous smile, the smile of the predator who found his prey, curved his lips.

"Let's get out of here." It wasn't a request, but a soft command, a command that promised a world of sensations. "I want to feel you close to me, just for me. Today, tomorrow, and always."

The secluded corner where you were was left behind, the people at that party becoming mere blurs the moment Andrew guided you out. All your senses were monopolized by him. Your Andy.

He spun you with an unexpected fluidity for a man of his size, and when he brought you back very close, it was to hold you against himself in a way that left no space for air, much less for any remnant of social decorum. One of his large hands spread on the lower part of your back, the pressure firm and possessive, his fingers insinuating themselves dangerously on the curve where your spine ended, both of you walking away from everyone.

"I don't like sharing your attention" he murmured against your side, his voice a low thunder that reverberated directly in your stomach. "It drives me crazy. Makes me want things I promised myself I wouldn't do anymore." The hand on your back slid and the daring thumb pressed your covered dermis with a firmness that was almost a reprimand. "Primitive things. Things civilized men don't do."

He guided you in a slow movement, his body moving against yours in a way that simulated an intimacy much deeper than the walk to the other end of the room allowed. His muscular thigh insinuated itself between yours, a tangled embrace but so certain that it was questionable the way you moved as if you were one and the friction of the dress fabric against your skin made you hold your breath.

Andrew noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed every tremor, every sigh, every drop of sweat that sprouted on your nape and the older man fed on your reactions.

"You like it when I talk like that, don't you, darling?" he asked, his voice tinged with a malice that made your face burn. His mouth descended to your temple, depositing a kiss there, warm and lingering. "You like it when I forget the rules and show you the man that still exists inside here. The dirty man."

Cody's lips brushed the curve of your ear and the following words were a profane whisper, a stark contrast to the refined environment around you. "I constantly think about how your skin gets marked under my fingers and everyone sees that you are mine. I think about the sounds you make when you forget to be polite. I think about these beautiful breasts that make me absolutely dumb with desire."

The hand that was on your back rose slowly up your side, his fingers spread, palpating each rib through the fabric until the edge of his thumb brushed, with devastating precision, the lower curve of your breast. It was not an accidental touch, perhaps it was a promise. His breathing became irregular, while an almost inaudible grunt vibrated in his throat and Cody felt the soft weight against his hand, even through the barrier of the dress.

"I would want to spend hours here" he confessed, his voice heavy with an obscene adoration. "Just looking. Just touching. The way they fit in my hand, as if they had been made for me. So soft. So perfect." His thumb moved in a slow and deliberate arc, brushing the exact point where the lace of the bra created a rise under the satin.

You bit your lower lip hard, a futile attempt to contain the moan that threatened to escape. The sensation was exacerbated by the certainty that you were in public, even if more secluded, surrounded by strangers who had no idea of the fire he was lighting in you.

Andrew smiled against your skin, a smile of pure predatory satisfaction. "That's it. Hold the sound for me. Because later, when we're alone, I want to hear all of them. I want you to scream, if necessary. But now, in this moment, your pleasure is mine. Only mine."

He spun you one more time, and when he brought you back to him, you were in a darker corner of the hall, partially hidden by a column and a cascade of floral arrangements. His hand moved from your hip to your nape, his fingers tangling in the hair there, pulling your head back with a firm gentleness that made you expose your throat to him. Andrew's eyes, stormy and hungry, devoured the line of your neck.

"I'm so afraid of losing you" he whispered, and the sudden vulnerability in his voice, mixed with the rawness of desire, was heartbreaking. He kissed you at the base of your throat, a light suction that he soon soothed with his tongue, as if apologizing for the mark he might leave. "This fear consumes me. I need you like I need air. It's desperate and... And it's the only truth I have."

He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his hand still on your nape, the other now resting on your racing heart, feeling the erratic beats. "Tell me you're mine. Say it now. I need to hear your voice saying the words."

The raw plea, uttered by that man so powerful and restrained, undid any defense you might still have had. You raised your hands to frame his face, your thumbs caressing the visage marked by life. "I am yours, Andrew. Body and soul. Every piece of me belongs to you."

What happened in his eyes was a controlled implosion. The stormy greenish-brown was flooded by a black wave of possession and relief. He took your mouth in a kiss that was everything but civilized. There was no hesitation, only a voracious and insatiable hunger where his tongue invaded your mouth with urgency. Pope kissed you as if he were trying to find salvation in the depths of your soul, a drowning man who finally found the surface, and in the silence of that corner, cradled by each other's presence, the world outside could wait.

The kiss was broken only by the pressing need for air, but Andrew didn't pull away from you. On the contrary. He remained with his forehead glued to yours, the panting and hot breath mixing with yours, his eyes half-closed as he tried to recover some remnant of control. Control that crumbled with every little tremor that ran through his body, with every accelerated beat of your heart that he still felt.

"I won't be able to wait until we get home" he admitted, his voice so hoarse and deep that it seemed to scrape your skin like fine sandpaper.

He took your hand with urgency, his long fingers intertwining with yours with an almost desperate firmness. Without saying anything else, Andrew led you outside, he didn't look to the sides, didn't care about the curious looks or the raised eyebrows. The world could be on fire and he wouldn't have noticed, because all his attention was focused solely on you.

Andrew took you to a wide staircase that led to the upper floors, your steps echoed on the polished marble, a sound muffled by the music that was getting more and more distant. With each step, the expectation grew, dense and electric, like the air before a summer storm.

You felt the heat of his hand on yours, the pressure of his fingers that was at the same time possessive and comforting, as if he feared you might evaporate if he let you go for even a second.

Despite the neediness, insecurities, and problems, Andrew Cody was a calculating man, a born strategist, and planning an escape route to have you all to himself was as natural to him as breathing. The hallway on the top floor was lined with a thick carpet that completely muffled the steps, the walls adorned with golden light fixtures that projected soft and intimate shadows. Everything was silence and penumbra, a stark contrast to the brightness and bustle of the floor below. Andrew stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway and took the keycard from the inside pocket of his suit jacket with an agility that betrayed his anxiety.

He unlocked the door and opened it, but instead of simply letting you pass, he pulled you inside with him, his arms enveloping you even before the door closed completely. The sound of the latch clicking into place was muffled by the sound of your panting breath when he pressed you against the solid wood surface.

"Finally" he whispered against your lips, his voice laden with a relief so profound it was almost painful. "No interruptions. Just you and me and everything I want to do to you."

Andrew didn't wait for an answer. His mouth captured yours in a kiss that was everything but delicate. It was a dirty kiss, messy, desperate. His tongue invaded your mouth without asking permission, tangling with yours in a primitive and wet dance. There was too much saliva, teeth, and a hunger so absolute that you felt your knees buckle.

Andrew noticed and used his own body to keep you standing, his hip fitting perfectly against yours, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against your belly in a way that tore a muffled moan from your throat.

His hands didn't stay still. While he kissed you with that devastating intensity, his agile fingers began to work on the buttons of your dress. But the patience, which he had been cultivating with so much effort throughout the entire night, finally ran out. With a grunt of frustration against your lips, he simply pulled the fabric hard, and the sound of the buttons coming loose and bouncing on the wooden floor was muffled by your exclamation of surprise.

"Sorry" he murmured, but there was no regret in his voice, only a raw and animalistic satisfaction. "I'll buy another one. I'll buy a hundred more. But now I need to see you. I need to touch you. Please, let me touch you."

The plea in his voice, mixed with the confession of his almost painful need, made something inside you melt. You let him push the dress off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your arms and pooling at your feet in a puddle of satin. Andrew took a step back, just enough so his eyes could roam your body now exposed only to the soft light entering through the window.

He remained still for a moment, his breath suspended as his pupils dilated in a way that almost swallowed the iris. Andrew looked at you like a starving man before a banquet, like a devotee before an altar, like a castaway who had finally sighted land.

"My God" he whispered, his voice choked with an almost religious reverence. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. And I don't deserve you. I know I don't deserve you. But I'm going to spend every second of this night trying to get close to being worthy."

He knelt before you. Andrew Cody, the man who made grown men tremble with a single look, who had spent years in prison, built on orders and fear, knelt at your feet like a subject before his queen. His large, calloused hands slid up your legs, from your ankles to your thighs, his fingers tangling in the thin straps of your panties.

"Everything about you is perfect" he murmured, his lips depositing open kisses on every inch of skin he revealed as he pushed the intimate piece aside. "Every curve. Every detail. Every little piece of this body."

He kissed the inside of your thighs, your hip bone, and raised his eyes to you. There was an intensity in that look that was almost unbearable, a mixture of adoration, desire, and something deeper, something that bordered on obsession. He didn't look away while he kissed the inside of your thigh again. He didn't look away while his tongue traced a wet and warm path over your skin, he didn't look away when his mouth finally found your center, his lips closing a little below the mons veneris, with a precision that tore a muffled moan from your throat.

"It's..." he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice reverberating on your most sensitive spot. "It's this sound that I want to hear. It's like this that I want you for me, my love."

What followed was a slow and meticulous torture. Andrew was in no hurry and savored you as if it were the first and the last meal of his life, his tongue tracing elaborate patterns that brought you to the edge of the abyss and then pulled you back, only to start all over again. His fingers joined the dance, first one, then two, filling you with a rhythmic pressure that matched perfectly with the movements of his mouth.

The hand that held the panties aside, pulled the delicate cloth down and removed it completely from your body. His hungry mouth returning to your dripping center as his rough palms moved up your body, finding your breast and pulling the fabric down with an impatience that contrasted with the meticulousness of what he was doing between your legs, groping the breast so his fingers could massage it, pinch it, venerate it.

"They are so beautiful" he murmured, pulling away only enough to speak, his chin shining with the evidence of the pleasure he was giving you.

With each caress, each touch, Andrew undid the barriers of your body with a patience that bordered on the sacred. Kneeling before you like a devotee he kept his eyes fixed on yours, observing every reaction, every tremor, every little muscle that contracted under the implacable attention of his mouth and his fingers. The sounds that escaped your lips were music to his ears. Every muffled moan, every choppy sigh, every time you held your breath and then released it in a trembling lament, Andrew absorbed it all as if they were the notes of a symphony composed just for him. He felt your taste on his tongue, a flavor he had been addicted to since the first time and that was now as essential as the air he breathed.

Your soft texture against his lips, the moist heat that received him, the way your body responded to his every movement was a sensory experience so overwhelming that it made him forget his own name. Feeling himself getting harder and harder knowing he was giving you pleasure.

"So beautiful," Cody murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating in waves of pleasure that ran through your entire body. His fingers descended once more and now pressed inside you, curved in a movement he already knew by heart, a precise gesture that made you arch your back and dig your nails into his shoulders. "So perfect. So mine."

His free hand went up your side, spreading over your ribcage, feeling each of your breaths as if it were the beating of a frightened bird's wings. His thumb caressed the lower curve of your breast, a light touch that contrasted with the intensity of what his mouth was doing further down. He wanted to feel everything. Every texture, every reaction, every drop of pleasure that came out of you.

With a few more thrusts of his fingers and licks on your slippery folds, you finally came apart against his mouth, a muffled scream escaping through the lips you were biting hard, but of course Andrew didn't stop.

He accompanied you through the waves of pleasure, prolonging each second, sucking your clit and drinking every drop of you like a man who had crossed the desert and finally found an oasis, thrusting his thick fingers, coated with your pleasure, with increasing intensity. Only when your knees gave way and he had to support you with his strong arms did he pull away, his lips shining and his eyes dark with a proud satisfaction.

"I'm here, darling" he whispered, getting up and taking you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.

Pope carried you to the bed and laid you down on the mattress with a reverence that contrasted with the urgency that still pulsed between his legs and vibrated throughout his body. For a moment, he remained there, hovering over you, his eyes roaming your naked body with an adoration so intense it was almost palpable. The soft light drew shadows on the curves of your body, highlighting every detail he loved almost sickly.

"I could spend hours just looking at you" he confessed, his voice hoarse and low, his fingers went to his own shirt with precise movements, but without haste. "I could spend the whole night worshiping every inch of you and it still wouldn't be enough."

The shirt fell to the floor, revealing the muscular torso marked by old scars and freckles that told stories of a past you had helped bury. The muscles contracted when he got rid of his pants and the last piece of clothing, completely revealing the extent of the desire he felt for you. So virile, with that hardness and heat, an impressive contrast with the vulnerability that shone in his eyes whenever they met yours.

Andrew climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he positioned himself over you, his forearms resting beside your head and his body covering yours like a protective shield. Always so protective. His warm skin against yours was a balm and a torment at the same time, each point of contact a small explosion of pleasure that made your body shudder.

"I love you" the older man said, the words coming out with a disarming simplicity. There was no calculation in them, there were no ulterior motives. It was just the truth, naked and raw, offered to you as an offering. "I love you in a way that sometimes scares me. In a way that makes me want to be a better man, even knowing I will never be good enough for you."

Andrew lowered himself and kissed your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. He kissed your lips with a tenderness that contrasted with the position you were in, with his body pressing yours against the mattress, with the unmistakable evidence of his desire rubbing against your damp thigh from the previous orgasm.

"You saved me" he continued, his lips moving to your neck, depositing open kisses along the warm column of your throat. "You saw me at my worst and decided to stay. You gave me a reason to believe that I could be more than my past, more than my surname, more than my mistakes."

As he spoke, his hand descended your body, his calloused fingers finding your center once more, but now with a different purpose. He wanted to feel if you were ready for him, wanted to make sure he wouldn't hurt you. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he still couldn't believe he had permission to touch you like this.

"Are you ready for me, my love?" he asked, his voice laden with a controlled expectation. His eyes found yours, seeking confirmation, seeking permission, seeking the certainty that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. "Can I...?"

When you nodded, unable to form coherent words in the face of the intensity of that moment, something transformed in his eyes. The careful restraint gave way to a devastating hunger, a need so profound it was almost painful to witness. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his throbbing member brushing your wetness, and then began to enter you slowly, inch by inch, as if he were memorizing every contraction, every texture, every little sound that escaped your lips.

The world around you dissolved. There was nothing else, there were no more people, there was nothing else but the two of you and the connection that united you in such a deep and visceral way. Andrew filled you completely, a hoarse moan escaping his throat when he finally settled fully inside your body. He remained still for a moment, his forehead resting on yours, his panting breath mixing with yours. His eyes closed, as if he were trying to engrave that sensation in his memory forever.

He began to move. The movements were slow and deep, each thrust a silent declaration of love, claim, and belonging. He was in no hurry and wanted to prolong that moment for as long as possible, wanted to feel every contraction of you around him, every tremor that ran through your body, every fingernail that dug into his back.

His hands roamed your body with an almost religious reverence. His fingers traced the curves of your breasts, descended along your waist, grabbed your hips with a controlled strength that left marks he would kiss later, apologizing for each one. His mouth found yours in kisses that alternated between the purest tenderness and the most absolute hunger, between love and obsession, between devotion and possession. Sometimes your breaths collided hindered by your needy moans, your head turning to the side while your body was propelled deliciously upwards, in a precise rite inside you that felt every vein and pulse of Andrew's cock.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice trembling with contained pleasure. "Do you feel how we fit together perfectly? As if you were made for me?"

The rhythm increased even more. The sound of skin meeting filled the room, mixing with the muffled moans and the words of love he whispered against your skin. Each thrust was deeper than the last, each movement more urgent, each breath more panting. Andrew loved you with all his body, with all his soul, with all the intensity of a man who had spent too long in the darkness and now refused to let go of the light he had found.

"I want to fill you" he confessed, his voice a rough whisper against the shell of your ear, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful need. The movements became more erratic, less controlled, as the tension accumulated at the base of his spine. "I want to feel you from the inside. I want to leave a part of me in you. I want you to know, to feel, to never forget that you are mine."

Your fingers found his, intertwining over the sheet and extending upwards, your thighs wrapped around Cody's waist and squeezing him closer to you, the hairs at the base of Andy's hard cock, wet with pre-cum, rasping against your sensitive clit. Your faces close and panting, you saw your boyfriend's neck and ears in a reddish tone of pleasure.

"Look at me" he pleaded, his voice breaking into a supplication. "Please, my love. I want to see your eyes when you cum for me. I want to see you come undone."

The tension inside you built, grew, expanded until it became unbearable. Every movement of him inside you, every word of love whispered against your skin, every touch of his calloused fingers on the most sensitive points of your body pushed you closer and closer to the abyss. Your body, acting on its own, pressed against his and the wet slaps of your skins meeting became louder and more obscene. When you finally came, when the pleasure exploded in waves that ran through every nerve of your body, Andrew was there to support you.

"That's it, my love," he whispered, his voice choked with an emotion that went far beyond physical pleasure. "Just like that. Let go. I'm here. I'll always be here."

He watched you with an adoration that bordered on fanaticism. You tightening around him while your fingers loosened from Andrew's hands to scratch the older man's muscular back, squeezing and pulling him to you, red welts forming on his tanned and freckled skin.

Every sound that escaped your lips were treasures he kept in his memory. His eyes roamed your face with an almost painful reverence, as if he were witnessing something sacred, something he didn't deserve, but that was given to him anyway.

"So beautiful" he murmured, his voice broken. "So perfect. So mine."

And then, when he could no longer contain himself, when the pleasure became unbearable and the need to surrender completely to you overcame any remnant of control, Andrew allowed himself to fall too. He sank into you with one last deep movement, a hoarse moan escaping his throat as he spilled everything he had inside you. The warmth of the liquid filled you completely, an intimate and primitive sensation that united you in a way that transcended the physical.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, the words choppy from the spasms of pleasure that still ran through his body. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

He repeated those words like a mantra, like a prayer, like a promise. Each declaration was accompanied by a kiss, a touch, a caress. He remained inside you for long minutes, reluctant to separate, to break that connection that united you in such a deep and complete way.

When he finally lay down beside you, he pulled you close, his arms enveloping your body as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His head found shelter in the curve of your neck, his warm breath caressing your skin as he slowly returned to reality. His fingers traced distracted patterns on your back, an automatic gesture that soothed him as much as it soothed you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice still hoarse, but now tinged with genuine concern. His eyes found yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. "Wasn't I... too rough?"

The question was so incongruent with the man he was to the rest of the world that it almost made you smile. Andrew Cody, the man who made grown men tremble with a single look, worried about being too rough in bed. But this was the version of him that only you knew and it was this version that you loved with every fiber of your being.

"You were perfect" you replied, your voice still a little shaky. "You always are perfect, Andy."

Something shone in his eyes. It wasn't just satisfaction or male pride. It was something deeper, more vulnerable. It was the gratitude of a man who had spent his entire life believing he didn't deserve to be loved and who now found himself faced with irrefutable proof that he was wrong.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you" he murmured, his fingers still tracing patterns on your back. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy. Trying to make you happy. Trying to be the man you deserve."

Ele beijou sua testa, suas pálpebras, a ponta do seu nariz. Beijou seus lábios com uma ternura que contrastava com a intensidade do que vocês acabavam de compartilhar. E quando finalmente se acomodou ao seu lado, seus braços ainda envolvendo seu corpo como um escudo protetor, ele sussurrou contra sua pele as mesmas palavras que repetiria até o fim de seus dias.

"I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.".