Dann

Homelander was experiencing torture. Pure sensational torture. With all the years of handling his powers he’d become accustomed to blocking out certain sounds, making sure not to x-ray through things he truly did not want to see. But when it came to you? It seemed his powers had a mind of their own.

At first it was as simple as him hearing you through the walls of the tower; the slick, squishy sound of fingers meeting wet tissue repeatedly. Your moans muffled by both and object like a pillow, or your hand and the layers of drywall separating your room from the rest. Of course he couldn’t help but listen, the way you sounded was the best part of his evening.

You sounded constantly fiendish, every midnight on the hour it seemed your hand found your cunt, and Homelander had become an unknowing slave to your late night rendezvous.

For the first bit, he stayed up in the sevens meeting room, not too close, not too far, just enough to hear the sounds of you from behind the various walls. Others would believe he was standing around to brood, but he was ripe with tension, cock straining against the tight fabric of his suit as he refused to touch himself while he listened.

This game, where only he was playing, continued for weeks, listening close enough before retreating to his room to stroke himself with the sound of you still ringing in his ears.

One random day, without meaning to, he passed by your room mid day trying to find you. He was x-raying through the walls to find you faster, and when he did so to your bedroom, he was blessed with a heavenly sight. Splayed out on your bed, which conveniently faced the wall that led to the hallway, you laid everything out for Homelander to see.

The lower half of your suit was tugged off and he watched through the wall as you rutted against your palm, your fingers sliding in and out of you. The noise was loud in his ears, and he couldn’t hear anything but you, the way your heart beat, the soft moans you tried to withhold, and the smell of you through the wall made him feel like a goddamn animal.

His nostrils flared like he was furious, and to some degree he was, how dare you slack off to please yourself when he needed you up with the seven? How dare you give him this aching boner only for him to be unable to relieve himself? It infuriated him, and he decided swiftly to infuriate you too. Banging his fist on the door, he called out to you. “Hope you’re not sleeping in there!” He called in a sing-song tone, watching your form through the door as you jumped up, reflexively covering yourself with the blanket.

“We’ve got a meeting in thirty, I need you there. Let’s go.” Homelanders tone with clipped, with a customer service cadence to it in hopes to appear a lot less tense than he was. “Shit my, my bad, I’m coming.” He watched you scramble up, satisfied you’d not reached your peak. “Good, come up quickly.”

Later that night, long after the meeting, Homelander touched down on the balcony connected to your bedroom, his body tense with anticipation. Twelve on the dot, and you were going at it like a bunny rabbit, your head pressed into a pillow concealing your delighted cries.

You were riding a dildo, the silicon between your thighs stabled by a pillow, your hips rocking roughly focusing only on reaching your climax.

He couldn’t help himself, he nearly ruined his suit by ripping his cock out. Spitting on his now glove free hand he watched you, stroking his cock in tandem with your bouncing, groaning and moaning without care if you caught him, he almost wanted you to catch him.

With a broken cry he came in long spurts; quicker than he wanted but he wasn’t able to help how arousing the sight of you was. His cum dribbled down the glass of the window making him cringe and a scoff. He stood there a bit longer biting his lip as your hips spasmed as you came yourself, watching until the very last second.

He could smell the release of hormones, see the way your heart thumped twice as fast as you came. After the show, he tugged his suit back up, and without cleaning up his cum on the glass, took off to his condo just above, more than pleased with the action from the night.

You’d heard the woosh and rattle of the little trinkets in your bedroom. The unmistakable signature take off of Homelander, it was recognizable to anyone around the world who’d seen him fly, whether on television or in person. You stumbled from your bed, blanket half covering your lower body as you peered out the window for the man in question. Unfortunately the only thing that you could see was your frazzled reflection in the glass window.

Trying to write it off, you cleaned up the scene of your own pleasure making up your bed again, before getting ready for bed. It wasn’t until you turned your light off that the stain on the balcony window became visible. He had been.

“Homelander,” You squeaked, flustered as you scampered to catch up with him in the hall. Homelander, who was walking leisurely with his hands folded behind his back, cape swishing with his gait. He sent you a blasé look over his shoulder before speaking. “Yes?” His lips going flat almost as if you were bothering him, but in truth, you were his little obsession.

“Hey, so weird, question. Were you on my balcony last night?” Your body was taut as he stopped, turning to you with a nonchalant expression, making you feel stupid for asking to begin with. “Yeah, yeah I was. I hope you cleaned up my leftovers, ah, I couldn’t care to.” He grinned, his pearly canines on display as he took slow steps toward you. “Oh- oh.. my god.” You whispered, making Homelander chuckle lowly.

“Yeahhh. Quite the show you put on, let me tell you, I’ve milked myself to just the sound of you, but the sight? I mean, wow.” You stumbled over your words as you looked at him gobsmacked. “Oh my god you watched me?” You whispered in exclamation, stepping closer in disbelief. His hand came down to grip your shoulder, thumb rubbing deep circles. “Of course I did silly thing, you were like a pornstar in there.” He smiled, wolfishly though it lacked any friendliness.

“Homelander what?!” You grit in mortification, watching him chuckle like it was nothing. “Oh cmon! Lighten up. Afterall,” He paused his sentence, leaning in, tone hushed. “Would you really have been so scandalous if you truly didn’t want me seeing?” You scoffed at that backing up watching him straighten his back with a smile. “You’re insinuating I wanted you to see me? No!” You exclaimed, your shoulders bunching with tension when those passing by gave you both odd looks.

“Of course you did,” Homelander waved his tone light, like he was just having the time of his life. “I have super fucking hearing and can see through walls.” Your skin prickled as his voice dropped to a threatening octave, making you freeze up. While yes, in the back of your mind, you always worried what if? when it came to Homelander possibly being able to hear you; you made sure to be as quiet as you could, and you didn’t even consider him being able to see you.

Before you could think of anything to say, Ashley scuttled from around the corner looking stressed and flustered. “There you are! Homelander, come we have an emergency; news outlets are asking for you!” Ashely’s voice was rushed as she looked at Homelander pleadingly, ignoring your presence entirely.

Homelander didn’t even look at her, his eyes solely focused on you. “I’ll be seeing you tonight.” He said lowly giving you a darkened look, before turning to Ashley, walking off with her with his American Hero persona back in full swing. You watched him go mouth agape in shock-horror. ‘I’ll be seeing you tonight’ spoken like a threat and feeling like a promise.

Of course you weren’t opposed to being a notch in homelanders forty yard length belt but you also weren’t one to make first moves or even try with people that were so above you like Homelander was. It left you so anxious you could puke, that paired with the record scratching reality that he’d been watching and listening to you all this time, it was all around enough to make you want to be swallowed up by a black hole.

The day passed slow, with your mind conjuring up the filthiest of things, wondering what in gods name Homelander was going to do to you. Part of you wondered if you were going to be punished, in a non-sexual unfun way, though you tried your hardest to block those worries out.

Finally night came, and you were entirely unprepared for what was going to come. Was he going to hurt you? You knew who Homelander was without his public persona, was he going to kick you from the seven? Publicly humiliate you? You sat on the side of your bed, leg jumping up and down as you waited patiently for him to show.

You expected him to come to the door, silly you. The sound of tapping on glass caught your attention, startling your already restless self. Homelander stood on the balcony, wagging his finger at you before pointing to the sliding glass doors handle, where it was locked. Quickly, like a good pet, you jumped to it, unlocking it and pulling it open for him. “Homelander I,”

Before you could even continue he raised his hand, interrupting you. “Please, call me John.” He smiled, his voice smooth yet predatory, and he loved that wide eyed dumb look you gave him. “What? You thought my birth name was Homelander?” He laughed snarkily, walking up to your dresser, touching your things.

“Uh, well, no… I just didn’t expect you to… tell me.” You awkwardly said cringing inwardly at how meek you sounded, in any other instance you would’ve held up your cocky supe persona, but considering the circumstances and the fact it was Homelander, you were completely off balance.

“So uhm.. John, why’re you.. what did you want to discuss?” You swallowed standing straighter, still lingering away from him as he rudely opened drawers and scuffled through things. “Where do you keep it?” He huffed turning to look at you. “I’m sorry?” You blinked confused, making him seemingly pissed. “Where’s your toys?” Homelander groaned, as if making him ask was a chore.

You felt hot under the collar, your eyes drifted toward the bed. “Underneath,” You mumbled, nodding at the far edge of the bed, right next to the nightstand and beneath where your head would rest on the pillow. Wordlessly, he sauntered over, cape swaying as he bent down tugging out a black plastic storage bin. “Classless,” Was all he grunted as he sat the bin on your bed, you standing just a few steps aside clenched up with tension.

“I mean cmon, you’re not fifteen right? No need to hide,” Homelander grinned over at you, pulling out the toy you’d been using when he watched you. “Small..” He softly hummed, spinning it in his hands, making you cringe once more. “Uhm, so.. why?” You managed to choke out, unsure of how to deal with this situation. “Why? Well, I was gonna make you fuck yourself in front of me, butttt,” He sang out dropping the plastic dick back into the bin before tossing it lazily on the ground. “That actually wouldn’t satisfy me any,” Homelander then turned, walking toward you in a few strides, making you trip up before properly standing your ground.

“Instead,” He continued, now in front of you his voice quiet, but harsh. “I’m going to give you the once in a life time opportunity to fuck yourself on me. What a present eh?” You nearly choked on your tongue watching him saunter around to your bed, unphased. He fluffed the pillows and smiled over his shoulder at you, before making a dramatic noise of relaxation as he sunk into your mattress. “Well c’mere, cock ain’t gonna fuck itself.” Homelander chortled exuberantly, hand sliding down to palm the large bulge in his super suit.

You followed his hand watching his movements with rapt attention. “You look pretty big,” You swallowed, chewing your lip as you approached. “Damn right,” Homelander grunted, squeezing his bulge with your compliment, seemingly already bursting with desire. It was shocking to you how desperate he seemed, you didn’t expect that look of need to be so on display for you, but here he was. With shallow breaths you neared, your hand dragging up his suited leg, before meeting his dick print. He moved his hand for you, blue eyes focused on your facial features, lips taut with restraint.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease.” He grit out through clenched teeth making you flinch. “Sorry, Homelander,” You squeaked, hands fiddling with the belt and overall confusing suit. “John,” he corrected gruffly, ripping his gloves off impatiently to help you with his suit. “My bad,” You muttered eyes wide as he tugged down the suit just enough to expose his hardened cock, thick, veiny and dripping slightly with precum and a dark patch of hair groomed cleanly around it all.

“Why’re you acting all fucking stupid? Strip.” He growled lowly, tugging you up into him carelessly, making you squeak in surprise, your hands landing on either side of him. “Christ John, hold on!” You whined clumsily adjusting yourself on him. “I.. it’s been awhile,” You gulped, tugging your top off, and his gloveless hands quickly found your chest gripping and squeezing what he could. “Fuck,” He groaned smelling the arousal wafting off of you, he was down bad, rocking his hips up against your clothed groin, his cock sliding across the fabric needily.

“Don’t.. fuckin’- god.. I’ve waited long enough for you.” John hissed, too frustrated to wait, he gripped your neck, tugging you roughly against his lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You made a noise of surprise into his mouth, eyes shutting a minute after, struggling to keep with his animalistic pace. His free hand pushed you over, his body swiftly caging you down, his pants kicked off but he kept the top half of his suit on.

He groped your breasts roughly, leaving imprints of his fingers behind, both hands eventually finding the hem of your pants tugging them down roughly. John pulled back, a connection of saliva stuck to both your lips. His eyes were blown out looking down at you as he panted, his blonde hair unkept and his face reddened with heat. “I’m gonna fuck you raw,”

You moaned in shock, watching him lurch forward licking and moving his lips messily down your naked body, his face seeking out your cunt. “Gonna fuck you full of cum until your stuffed, ready to pop out a little me.” You weren’t able to disagree as his tongue slid between the folds of your cunt, his nose bumping your clit making you squeal. “John!” You cried gasping in pleasure as you spread your thighs as wide as you could.

Even though John was in heaven between your legs, his cock was aching, as he said before he’s been waiting for this since you first arrived and he heard you moaning for the first time. Sitting up on his heels, pulling away from your arousal with a slurp, he stroked his cock. You mewled twitching at the sensation, and subsequently, the lack of it, peering up at him through bleary eyes, your body hot and mind mush. “John please,”

Homelander groaned in shaking his head like he was in awe at the sight of you below him. “You want his hm?” John gleamed sliding his hard cock through your slick arousal, moaning pathetically at the way he slid through. “Please John, please,” You whined hips lifting, making him chuckle. “Good, good,” John sighed, sinking the tip of his cock into your warmth, making his head fall back, his free hand tugging your body closer by the hip. “You are never… getting away from me.”

Johns voice was breathless as he spoke, making you blink your eyes open from being clenched close tight. “You want me bad? Want me to make you feel good John?” You crooned as he sank into you inch by inch, looking wrecked compared to you. “Yeah,” He replied breathless as he pushed forward more. “Cmon baby,” You grin your voice soft but seductive, confidence back in full swing at the sight of him looking utterly ruined.

Blue eyes peered down into yours at the sound of your voice, a whimper, a fucking whimper, falling from his lips as his body fell forward, chest to chest with you. Homelander kept his weight enough off of you not to crush you, but he felt pathetic, rutting shallowly into you while sucking and nipping at your neck. Your hands threaded through his hair tugging it roughly so his face was adjacent to yours, your lips meeting his. John moaned a soft fuck against your lips as his pace got rougher, the feeling of your legs wrapping around his waist making him feral.

“Oh fuck John,” You cried out breaking from the kiss to through your head back as his pace quickened, your headboard slamming against the wall, the slap of skin loud in the otherwise quiet room. Both of you were undoubtedly heard from beyond the walls, no super hearing required. Johns eyes were blown out as he fucked you his own face inches from yours. He inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of your arousal, sweat and other scents like perfumes and hair products.

“Don’t leave me,” He growled his nose, bumping yours with every rough thrust he did. He was so close to cumming, and he refused to be the only one, his hand sliding down to press against your puffy clit. You hissed tugging his hair again, toes curling in pleasure. “Fuck I.. I won’t leave you, m’gonna cum.” You brokenly cried, causing Homelander to grunt and moan. His pace got rougher and quicker than you could ever achieve alone. Heat crawled across your body, stars exploded in your eyes and without any warning heat bloomed inside you, making you twitch.

Homelander couldn’t contain himself, taking you by the hips, pulling you down on his cock as he forced himself roughly into you, moaning in your ear as he came. The sensation of him cumming brought along your own vicious orgasm, your body twitching and spamming as you clamped down on his cock, milking him for what he was worth as you painted his thighs and balls with your arousal.

Your body felt tingly as you panted, finally coming down from your high. Johns body collapsed onto yours, the sounds he was making were soft whimpers and whines as his hands kneaded whatever flesh he came across, his face buried into your neck.

When everything was finally decent, you took a deep breath and went out to the living room, where everyone was.

Your father was sitting on the sofa checking something on his phone. Laura, with a cup of tea in her hand, was chatting animatedly from the armchair. And him… he was standing by the window, arms crossed over his chest, listening. He wore a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans. The moment you entered, his green eyes locked onto you.

You felt a strong flip in your stomach, a mix of nerves, desire, and something sweeter. You swallowed hard and tried to act normal.

“Good morning… or afternoon,” you murmured, heading to the kitchen.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” your father greeted you with a smile.

You poured yourself a strong coffee and sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling. From there you could see the living room perfectly. Every now and then, your eyes met his. Short, loaded, secret glances. At one point he ran his tongue over his lower lip and you felt heat rise up your neck.

Minutes later, he approached the kitchen as if nothing, opened the fridge, took out a bottle of water and, instead of returning to the living room, sat on the counter right next to you, so close that his thigh pressed against yours.

Without anyone being able to see from the living room, he placed his large, warm hand on your bare leg, just below the edge of your shorts, and his thumb began to slowly caress your skin.

You smiled at him discreetly and continued drinking your coffee as if nothing was happening, but your heart was racing.

Laura raised her voice from the living room.

“Guys, it would be nice to do something this afternoon like we did yesterday at the beach. I want to make the most of these days before going back home.”

Your father nodded.

“We could go fishing at the lake. It’s a bit far, but it’s beautiful. We’d have to camp one night, set up tents and everything.”

You frowned immediately.

“I hate camping,” you said without thinking twice. “The mosquitoes, sleeping on the ground, the dirt… no thanks.”

He gently squeezed your leg under the counter. When you spoke, he looked directly at you.

“It would be good,” he said in a calm but firm voice. “A change of air. It would do us all good.”

Your father agreed.

“Come on, daughter. We haven’t gone in years, it’s going to be fun, you’ll see.”

You sighed, knowing you were in the minority. His hand remained on your leg, now moving a little higher up the inside of your thigh, caressing with his thumb almost imperceptibly.

“It’s going to be good,” he told you in a low voice, just for you, even though Laura and your father kept talking. “We’re going to have fun. Trust me.”

The double meaning of his words made you bite the inside of your cheek. You nodded reluctantly.

“Fine…” you finally accepted.

Your father got up from the sofa, excited.

“Perfect. Then let’s start preparing everything. We need to check the tents, the sleeping bags, the portable cooler… we’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Laura smiled, clearly happy with the idea. You finished your coffee in silence, very aware of the large hand that still rested possessively on your leg, caressing you slowly under everyone’s gaze… without anyone else knowing.

After your father and Laura went out to the garage to check the camping gear, you two were left alone in the kitchen for a few minutes.

He didn’t remove his hand from your leg. On the contrary, he squeezed it more firmly, sliding his fingers a little higher up the inside of your thigh.

“It’s going to be good,” he repeated in a low voice, looking at you with that intensity that disarmed you. “Trust me.”

You shook your head, still frowning.

“I don’t agree. I hate camping. It’s always cold, even in summer. I end up freezing all night and covered in mosquito bites. I don’t understand why I have to go.”

He smiled sideways, that dangerous smile that sharpened his jaw more. He leaned a little closer to you, speaking almost against your ear.

“Because I’m going to find a way to keep you warm.”

The double meaning of his words, combined with the heat of his hand still on your skin, sent a shiver straight down between your legs. You looked at him with narrowed eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling.

At that precise moment, Laura’s voice came from the garage.

“Honey! Can you come here for a second?”

He sighed, clearly annoyed by the interruption. Before getting up, he quickly took your chin with one hand, pulled you close and gave you a fleeting but intense kiss, gently biting your lower lip.

“Be good,” he murmured against your mouth.

He got up and walked toward the garage as if nothing had happened, leaving you with your heart racing and a silly smile on your lips.

You stayed sitting on the counter a moment longer, processing everything. Then you jumped down and went to your room to prepare your things. You had never really camped before, so you had no idea what to bring. You opted for the most comfortable and practical: black thermal leggings and an oversized gray sweatshirt, a couple of short shorts and basic t-shirts for the day, your toiletry bag with the basics, toothbrush, sunscreen, mosquito repellent and your moisturizer.

You didn’t want to bring too much. You packed everything in a medium backpack and left it ready by the door of your room.

While closing the backpack, you couldn’t stop thinking about his words. The idea of spending the night in a tent, close to him but without being able to touch him freely… and at the same time the possibility that he would find a way to do it anyway, gave you a mix of nerves and excitement.

You smiled to yourself as you looked in the mirror because you knew it was going to be interesting.

The rest of the day was complete chaos. Your father and he spent the afternoon going in and out of the house, checking the car, loading the truck with tents, portable coolers, sleeping bags, flashlights, food and everything necessary for camping. Laura also helped actively: she organized the food, folded clothes and talked non-stop about how excited she was to “do something as a family.”

You, on the other hand, didn’t lift a finger. You spent most of the time in the living room or in your room, pretending to be busy with your phone or reading.

Every time you passed near the truck, you saw him loading heavy things, with the muscles in his arms and back marked by the effort. On more than one occasion your eyes met, but they never managed to talk alone.

Night came and with it your hope of seeing him alone for a while. You stayed awake longer than usual, sitting on the bed with the dim light, attentive to any noise in the hallway. But nothing happened. You heard Laura laughing softly in their room, his deep voice answering something, and then everything fell silent. You went to bed frustrated, with a feeling of emptiness and jealousy churning in your stomach.

The next morning they left early for the lake.

The trip was long and hot. You sat in the back with Laura, answering in monosyllables. He drove and your father rode shotgun. Every now and then you felt his gaze searching for you in the rearview mirror, but it barely lasted a second.

They arrived at the lake around noon. The place was beautiful: a large lake surrounded by trees, with camping areas. While the others set up the tents, three in total: one for your father, one for you, and a larger one for him and Laura, you sat in a folding chair in the shade, with sunglasses and a book you barely read.

When everything was ready and the sun was already setting, they sat around the bonfire your father had lit to prepare dinner: grilled meat, potatoes and some beers.

You were quiet, poking at your food with your fork. He was sitting across from you, next to Laura. You tried not to look at him too much, but it was difficult. At one point, Laura moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder naturally and said with a complicit smile, without lowering her voice much:

“Babe, tonight you’re going to have to warm me up… you know how I get when it’s cold. Last night I barely slept because of you,” she laughed softly, clearly referring to the night before at home when they had sex.

It was a completely normal comment between a married couple… but to you it felt like a bucket of cold water. You felt a strong knot in your stomach and a pang of rage mixed with sadness. The image of him fucking her the other night came back to your mind with force. That she said it in front of you, as if nothing, seemed in very bad taste. You felt invisible, out of place, and above all… replaced.

Your expression changed completely, your brow furrowed, your jaw tense, and the silence you kept for the rest of dinner was heavy. You barely answered when they spoke to you and ate mechanically, without appetite.

He noticed. He looked at you several times with a slightly furrowed brow, as if trying to read you. Your father also noticed.

“Are you okay, daughter?” he asked at one point.

“Perfect,” you answered dryly, without looking up from your plate.

Laura seemed not to notice the tension or simply ignored it, and continued talking animatedly about how beautiful the place was. You, on the other hand, didn’t hide your bad mood at all. You got up before dinner was over, muttering that you were cold and that you were going to get into your father’s tent to read for a while.

Later inside the tent you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned inside the sleeping bag. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt a pang of jealousy burning in your chest.

Around two in the morning, you left your tent and went to your father’s, whispering so as not to scare him.

“Dad… I can’t sleep. I’m going to go for a walk for a while to clear my head.”

He opened his eyes halfway, sleepy.

“Now? You can’t go alone, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m not going alone,” you lied naturally. “I’m going with him, don’t worry.”

Your father looked at you for a second, still half asleep, and nodded.

“Okay… but don’t go too far. And take a flashlight.”

“Sure.”

You put on a thick sweatshirt over your t-shirt, leggings and your sneakers. You left your cell phone in your tent and took only a small flashlight. You left without making noise.

The campsite was silent. Some dim lights from lanterns and almost extinguished bonfires illuminated the main paths. You walked aimlessly, gradually moving away from the tent area. The air was cool and smelled of pine and damp earth. Despite there being some light, you started to doubt if it was a good idea to go so far, but you kept going anyway.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, you found a nice and quiet place: a small elevation next to the lake, with a large flat rock where you could sit. The water reflected the moon and everything was calm. You sat down, hugged your knees to your chest and sighed deeply, trying to sort out your emotions.

You hadn’t been there ten minutes when you heard a crack of branches behind you. You turned around scared, quickly turning on the flashlight.

“Who’s there?” you asked in a tense voice.

He came out of the darkness, with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The light from your flashlight illuminated his face. He looked serious, but there was a slight gleam of relief in his eyes.

“It’s me,” he said in a low voice.

You jumped and stood up immediately, your heart beating hard from the fright.

“You scared me!” you exclaimed, clearly angry. “What the fuck are you doing? You almost killed me from fright.”

He took a couple more steps closer, with that calm of his that sometimes drove you crazy.

“I saw you leave the tent. I wasn’t going to let you walk alone out here at night,” he replied in a deep, low voice. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him with a furrowed brow, still upset by the fright and by everything you had felt during dinner.

“No, I’m not okay,” you answered curtly. “And you didn’t have to follow me. I can be alone if I want.”

He didn’t flinch. He stood in front of you, watching you with that intensity that disarmed you even when you were angry, and took his time before speaking again.

You, on the other hand, crossed your arms over your chest, more to protect yourself from the cold than anything else.

“Why did you follow me?” you asked, still angry. “I said I wanted to be alone.”

“Because I don’t like you walking alone at night around here. And because I saw your face during dinner,” he replied bluntly, taking another step closer. “You were upset, very upset.”

You shrugged, trying to look indifferent.

“It’s nothing. I was just cold and sleepy.”

He let out a low laugh, almost a snort, as if he didn’t believe a word.

“Don’t lie to me. Talk to me, love. I love listening to you. It was because of what Laura said, right?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to contain yourself, reminding yourself that what you two had was very recent, that you had no right to demand anything from him.

You took a deep breath before answering.

“It’s not my problem what you say to each other,” you murmured, looking toward the lake instead of at him. “You’re a couple, it’s normal that… you do those things and talk about it.”

There was a silence. He moved closer until he was right in front of you. His presence was imposing and warm.

“But it bothered you,” he stated, not as a question.

“I’m not jealous,” you said quickly, too quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just… it seemed in bad taste that she said it in front of me. As if I wasn’t there, as if it didn’t matter.”

He looked at you in silence for a few seconds. Then he raised a hand and caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, slowly lowering it to your chin. He gently made you look at him.

“Say it,” he asked in a low voice. “Say what you really feel.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting with yourself. You didn’t want to sound jealous, you didn’t want to seem immature. But the words escaped you anyway.

“It upset me,” you finally admitted, in a lower voice. “A lot. Hearing her say that last night she barely slept because of you… knowing what you did… turned my stomach. I felt… out of place. Invisible.”

When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you with an expression you didn’t expect. There was no guilt. There was something darker, more satisfied. A slow, dangerous smile formed on his lips.

“So you are jealous…” he murmured, almost with delight.

“It’s not funny,” you protested, trying to pull away, but he held you by the waist with his other hand, pulling you against his body.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, lowering his voice even more. “I like it. I like that you get jealous. I like knowing you don’t want to share me.”

He pulled you tighter against him. You could feel the heat of his chest through the sweatshirt.

“This is very recent,” you continued, with a trembling voice. “I shouldn’t feel this way. I have no right to…”

“You have every right,” he interrupted, firm but gentle. “Because since I fucked you, you’re no longer just my best friend’s daughter. You’re mine. And I’m yours. Even if I can’t shout it yet.”

His words hit you hard. You felt your knees weaken. He took advantage of your silence to kiss you: first on the forehead, then on the cheek, and finally on the lips. It was a slow, deep, almost comforting kiss. You melted against his mouth, letting him hug you tighter.

When you separated, you rested your forehead against his chest.

“I hate feeling this way,” you whispered.

“I know,” he replied, caressing your back under the sweatshirt. “But you don’t have to hide it from me. I prefer you tell me when something bothers you. Understood?”

You nodded against his chest. He hugged you tighter, completely surrounding you with his large, warm arms.

“Are you calmer now?” he asked, kissing the top of your head.

“A little,” you admitted. “But I still hate camping.”

He let out a low laugh.

“I promised I’d keep you warm, didn’t I?” he whispered against your ear, with that husky tone that gave you goosebumps. “And I intend to keep it.”

You stayed hugged to him for a while longer, listening to the beats of his heart, while the lake continued to shine silently in front of you.

You stayed hugged for a while longer by the lake. Then he spread his jacket over the flat rock and you lay down together to look at the stars. The sky was incredibly clear, full of bright dots. You curled up against his chest, with one leg over his, while he caressed your back under the sweatshirt.

For a few minutes only the soft sound of the water and your breathing could be heard, but the closeness, the heat of his body and the memory of the night before began to take effect. You lifted your head, looked at him for a second and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised but clearly pleased.

“So now you’re the one taking the initiative?” he murmured in a husky voice.

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him hungrily, slowly moving your hips over him. You could feel him hardening under the fabric of his jeans. His large hands ran up your thighs to squeeze your waist, helping you move against him.

The kiss became deeper, more desperate. You took off your sweatshirt yourself and he helped you remove the t-shirt you were wearing underneath, leaving you only in your bra. His warm hands roamed your bare back while you continued moving over his erection, rubbing against him with more insistence.

“Fuck, you’re more addictive than anything,” he growled against your mouth, squeezing your ass with both hands.

You lowered your trembling hands to his belt and began to unbuckle it. He chuckled softly against your lips, a deep, sexy laugh that vibrated in your chest.

“Eager, huh?” he whispered.

You managed to open his pants and slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his thick, hot cock. It was completely hard. You stroked him slowly, feeling it throb in your palm while you continued kissing him.

He let out a grunt and helped you remove the rest of your clothes. He skillfully took off your bra and then lifted you enough to pull down your leggings and panties in one go. You were completely naked on top of him, the cool night air raising goosebumps on your skin.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you close again.

He positioned you better on top of him, aligning his thick cock with your already wet entrance.

You lowered yourself slowly, feeling him open you inch by inch. He was big, and the position made him feel even deeper.

“I know it’s a big stretch. Breathe for me,” he whispered against your ear, holding your hips firmly as he entered you completely.

You moaned softly when you had him all inside. You felt full, stretched, perfect. You began to move, rising and falling on him with a slow rhythm at first.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me, baby,” he growled, digging his fingers into your hips.

You increased the rhythm, riding him with more enthusiasm. He looked at you from below, his eyes dark with desire, enjoying every movement of your breasts and the way you bit your lip to not make too much noise.

“No… mhm, ride slower, baby,” he ordered in a husky voice, stopping your hips for a moment. “I want to feel you properly. Like that… yes.”

You obeyed, moving slower but deeper, circling your hips. He raised one hand and pinched a nipple, then lowered it to your clit and began rubbing it with his thumb.

The pleasure was intense. You moaned louder, unable to contain yourself completely.

“Come on, make noise for me… Let me hear you…” he asked, speeding up the movement of his thumb.

You leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest, and began to move faster again. He held you tightly, thrusting up from below, meeting each of your movements.

“Fuck…” you gasped, feeling the orgasm approaching quickly. “I’m going to cum…”

“Do it,” he growled. “Cum on my cock, princess.”

The orgasm hit you hard. You contracted around him, trembling as you moaned his name against his neck. He followed shortly after, thrusting deep and cumming inside you with a low, husky grunt, filling you completely.

You collapsed on his chest, both breathing heavily, sweaty despite the cold of the night. He hugged you tightly, caressing your back and kissing your hair.

“You’re dangerous…” he whispered with a smile in his voice. “You’ve got me completely crazy.”

You stayed on top of him for a while longer, enjoying his heat, his scent, and the feeling of still having him inside you.

Then, with a fluid and possessive movement, he turned you over on the flat rock, positioning himself on top of you.

His large, heavy body completely covered you, pinning you against the cold surface of the rock. He kissed you with intensity, devouring your mouth while his cock, still semi-hard inside you, began to harden again.

“Just one more round,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and full of desire. “You can take it, right, princess?”

You could only nod, biting your lip. The words had escaped you and you were sensitive, full of his previous cum, but the idea of him fucking you again turned you on in a dangerous way.

He smiled against your mouth, satisfied with your silent response.

“Good girl.”

He positioned himself better between your legs, spreading them wider with his hips. He pulled out almost completely only to enter you again with one deep, slow thrust. You moaned loudly, digging your nails into his back.

“Like that… take it all,” he growled, beginning to move with a steady, deep rhythm. “I want you to feel every inch.”

His thrusts were strong but controlled, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. He kissed your neck, your breasts, gently biting your nipples while he fucked you.

At one point, he looked you directly in the eyes, his gaze dark and filled with something primal.

“I want to fill you again…” he whispered, accelerating the rhythm. “I want you to carry my cum deep inside. Imagine I get you pregnant right here, in the middle of the forest… with my child growing inside you.”

A louder moan escaped your throat. The idea hit you hard: his cum filling you, the possibility of getting pregnant by him. Something inside you ignited brutally. You lifted your hips to meet his thrusts, desperate.

“Yes…” you gasped, unable to contain yourself. “I want you to fill me… I want your baby.”

He grunted, excited by your words. His thrusts became more brutal, deeper.

“Fuck, that’s it…” he muttered, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while he fucked you harder. “You’re such a slut for me… so desperate to carry my cum.”

He kissed you violently while penetrating you mercilessly. The wet sound of his cock entering and leaving your soaked pussy filled the silence of the forest. You were sensitive from the previous orgasm, but that only made everything feel more intense.

“You’re going to take everything I give you,” he growled against your ear. “And you’re going to stay with my baby inside, do you understand?”

You nodded frantically, moaning uncontrollably. The combination of his words, his weight on you and how deep he reached with each thrust was pushing you to the limit again.

“Say it,” he demanded, fucking you faster. “Tell me you want my baby.”

“I want your baby…” you moaned, almost sobbing with pleasure. “Please… fill me…”

That seemed to break something inside him. He fucked you with brute force, holding you tight while he penetrated you to the bottom again and again. When he reached orgasm, he pushed deep and came with a husky grunt, filling you with hot, abundant streams of cum.

You came almost at the same time, contracting violently around his cock, milking him while you trembled beneath him.

He stayed inside you for a long time, making sure not a drop escaped. He kissed you softly on the lips, on the forehead, on the cheeks, while you both came down from the high.

“Good girl…” he whispered, still buried deep inside you. “Now you’re nicely full of me.”

He hugged you tightly, protecting you from the cold of the night with his hot body, while his cum stayed inside you, exactly where he wanted it.

You stayed a while longer on the rock, with him still inside you, hugging you protectively against his body to give you warmth. He kissed your forehead, your temples and your lips with a tenderness that contrasted with how wildly he had just fucked you.

When he finally pulled out of you, you felt his hot cum dripping between your thighs. He took his t-shirt and cleaned you carefully, then helped you get dressed with patience: first the panties, then the leggings, the t-shirt and finally the sweatshirt. He hugged you again when you were dressed, rubbing your back.

“Better?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” you replied, smiling against his chest. “Much better.”

“We can go back whenever you want.”

You nodded happily, still with slightly shaky legs.

“Let’s go.”

The way back was shorter than you expected. You walked in silence, but he took your hand every time the terrain got complicated. When you arrived at the campsite, you separated near the tents. He gave you one last quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing toward his.

The next morning, everyone went down to the lake to swim.

Laura was especially affectionate with him: she hugged him around the waist, kissed his shoulder, whispered in his ear and laughed at everything he said. You tried not to look, concentrating on the cold lake water and your own body.

In the afternoon, your father suggested a hike along the forest trails. You accepted reluctantly. You had been walking for a little over half an hour when you started complaining.

“This is so boring… How much longer until we go back?”

Your father and Laura were ahead, chatting animatedly. At one point, the path narrowed and you were left behind with him.

As soon as you were far enough from the others, he grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side of the trail, behind a large, thick tree.

“Come here,” he growled, pushing you against the trunk.

He didn’t give you time to protest. He yanked down your shorts and panties, opened his pants and penetrated you with one deep thrust from behind.

You moaned loudly, holding onto the tree.

“Are you still bored?” he asked in a husky voice as he started fucking you hard, holding your hips.

You couldn’t answer. Only broken moans came out of your mouth as he thrust into you mercilessly, deep and fast. The wet sound of his cock entering you again and again filled the air.

“Tell me,” he insisted, giving you a hard spank. “Are you still bored, princess?”

“No… fuck… no…” you managed to babble, almost without voice.

He chuckled softly and fucked you harder, one hand going down to rub your clit while the other held your hair.

You came quickly, trembling against the tree. He followed shortly after, cumming inside you with a low grunt, filling you once more.

He helped you get dressed again, kissing your neck.

“Now you’re properly entertained, aren’t you?” he murmured with a satisfied smile.

When you returned to the campsite, you announced casually:

“I’m going to bathe in the lake. I want to be alone for a while.”

Your father nodded without problem. Laura too. He, on the other hand, looked at you with intensity, but didn’t say anything at that moment.

You went down to the lake with a towel and your bikini on. You got into the water and started swimming a little. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard footsteps among the trees.

He appeared through the vegetation, already shirtless, with that dark look you knew so well.

“You said you wanted to be alone…” he commented, approaching the edge of the water.

You smiled, floating in the water.

“And you decided not to listen to me.”

He took off his shorts and got into the water, swimming directly toward you with powerful movements.

“I’m never going to leave you alone…” he murmured when he reached you, pulling you against his naked body in the water. “Not when I can have you like this.”

He trapped you against a large, smooth rock that protruded into the lake, where the water reached your waist. The sunset sun tinted everything in golden and orange tones.

He gently pressed you against the stone, his large body covering yours, and kissed you with deliberate, almost reverent slowness.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered against your lips, while his large hands roamed your body under the water. “I need you all the time. Every damn second.”

His words filled you with a deep, warm happiness. You smiled against his mouth and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer.

He removed your bikini with smooth but sure movements. First the top, leaving your breasts in the air, then the bottom. He lifted you a little, positioning you against the rock so the water helped you float slightly. His cock, already completely hard, brushed against your entrance.

He entered you slowly, inch by inch, looking into your eyes the whole time.

“I want to feel all of you,” he murmured, his voice husky but tender. “Every part of you…”

You moaned softly when he was completely inside. This time it wasn’t hard or wild. It was slow, deep and sensual. He moved with long, controlled thrusts, pulling out almost completely only to sink back to the bottom, circling his hips to brush every sensitive spot inside you.

His hands explored your body with devotion: he caressed your breasts, gently pinched your nipples, ran down your waist, squeezed your hips and came back up to hold your face while he kissed you.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispered against your neck, gently biting the skin. “So tight, so hot… so mine.”

You felt like you were floating, both from the water and the pleasure. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Each slow, deep thrust drew soft moans from you that were lost in the sound of the lake.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“I never want to stop,” he confessed, accelerating just a little. “I want to fuck you every day, fill you every night… I want you to always carry something of mine inside you.”

His words excited you as much as his movements. You kissed with more urgency, while he continued penetrating you with that delicious slowness that allowed you to feel every vein, every pulse of his thick cock inside you.

He lowered one hand between you and began rubbing your clit with soft but firm circular movements, synchronized with his thrusts.

“Cum for me, princess,” he whispered against your mouth. “I want to feel you squeeze me.”

The orgasm came like a slow but powerful wave. You contracted around him, trembling in his arms as you moaned his name. He followed shortly after, thrusting deep and cumming inside you with a low, long grunt, filling you once more with his hot cum.

He stayed inside you, hugging you tightly against the rock, kissing your neck, shoulders and lips with tenderness.

“I need you always,” he repeated in a low voice, like a vow. “You have no idea how much.”

You stayed hugged to him for a long time, with the cool water caressing your joined bodies, feeling full, desired and happy in a way you had never experienced.

You left the water holding hands. As soon as you reached the shore, on a soft grass area somewhat protected by some bushes, he carefully laid you down on the ground. The towel you had brought was underneath you, protecting you a little from the dirt.

He positioned himself between your legs, still naked and with his cock hard again. He looked at you with that intensity that melted you and lifted one of your legs, resting it on his shoulder. The new position opened you completely for him and he began rubbing the thick head of his cock against your soaked entrance.

He entered you with one deep thrust. The position made him reach much deeper, brushing points that made you moan loudly from the first moment.

“Fuck…” you gasped, holding onto his arms.

He began to move with a firm, steady rhythm, holding your leg against his shoulder. Each thrust was deep, strong and precise. The angle was perfect and made you feel him in an overwhelming way.

Tears began to escape from your eyes from pure pleasure. It wasn’t pain, it was too good. You sobbed between moans while he fucked you mercilessly.

“I want to be your woman…” you managed to say between gasps, your voice broken. “The only one… I don’t want you to be with anyone else. Only with me.”

He grunted, accelerating the rhythm, fucking you harder upon hearing your words.

“You’re mine,” he replied in a husky voice, looking you straight in the eyes. “Only mine. I don’t want anyone else. Not Laura, not anyone. Only you, princess.”

His words filled you with such great emotion that the tears continued to fall. He leaned a little more, almost folding you in half, and kissed you while he continued penetrating you deeply.

“I’m going to leave her, princess…” he growled against your mouth. “I’m going to separate and I’m going to stay with you. I want you to be the mother of my children. Only you.”

You came hard, almost screaming, contracting violently around his cock. He followed seconds later, pushing to the bottom and cumming inside you with a guttural grunt, filling you once more.

He collapsed carefully on top of you, still inside, and hugged you tightly. He kissed the tears from your cheeks with tenderness.

“I want you,” he repeated in a low voice, like a vow. “Only you.”

You stayed hugged to him, trembling with pleasure and emotion, with his cum dripping between your legs and your heart full.

That afternoon at the lake was the last time you two were together. When they returned to the campsite, they pretended normality. He returned to his role as attentive husband with Laura and you returned to being his best friend’s daughter.

That night they barely exchanged glances and the next day they packed everything and returned home in an uncomfortable silence, and then everything changed.

As soon as they arrived, he made his decision. That same night he told your father that he needed to sort things out with Laura and the next day, he left with her back to Texas. He didn’t tell you directly, he just looked at you one last time before getting in the car, with an expression full of guilt, unspoken promises and something like pain.

But there were no words. There was no “I’ll call you,” or “this isn’t over.” Just a brief hug in front of your father and Laura, and then… nothing.

Your heart broke into a thousand pieces. The first days were the worst. You spent them locked in your room, looking at your phone every five minutes, waiting for a message, a call, anything, but the phone never rang.

You knew, deep down, that he was right to leave with her first. He had to resolve his marriage, talk, separate formally if he really wanted to be with you. It was the responsible, logical thing, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Every night you cried silently against the pillow, remembering his words at the lake and wondering if they had been just words of the moment? Heat of passion? The doubt ate away at you inside.

Your father noticed you were acting strange, but he attributed it to university stress or problems with Tony. You didn’t tell him anything. How were you going to explain that you had fallen in love with his best friend? That he had fucked you in the forest promising you a future and now had disappeared?

The following weeks were a silent hell.

At first you tried to convince yourself that it was just stress, that the delay in your period was due to anxiety, constant crying and sleepless nights, but then the symptoms started.

Morning nausea that forced you to run to the bathroom as soon as you woke up. Sensitive and swollen breasts. A deep fatigue that made you want to sleep all day and the smell of coffee that you used to love now made you retch.

You were terrified. A small, secret part of you felt strangely happy at the possibility. It was a part of him, a living little piece of everything you had shared in secret. A baby that would carry his blood. But the other part, the bigger and more rational one, was scared to death.

How were you going to be a mother now? You were too young, you were alone, you had no stable job, you lived with your father and the man who had gotten you pregnant had disappeared without saying a word.

You felt useless. Stupid. Naive.

How could you have believed him? How did you fall so easily for the words of a man who was twice your age? Your father’s best friend. A married man who had just gotten out of prison. You repeated over and over how stupid you had been.

Some nights you stayed looking at the ceiling with silent tears rolling down your cheeks, thinking that it would be easier to simply not exist. Wanting to die was a thought that appeared more and more frequently, although you never said it out loud.

One afternoon, after vomiting for the third time that day, you went to the pharmacy alone and bought three pregnancy tests.

You got home, locked yourself in the bathroom and waited. All three tests came back positive. You sat on the bathroom floor for almost twenty minutes, staring at the two pink lines as if they were a death sentence. When you finally reacted, you stumbled to your room, locked the door and threw yourself on the bed.

You buried your face in the pillow and cried like never before in your life. The sobs were so strong they choked you. You bit the pillow so your father wouldn’t hear you from the living room. Your whole body trembled. You felt small, broken, completely alone.

“Idiot… idiot…” you repeated between sobs, hitting the bed with your fist. “How could you be so stupid?”

The images invaded you uncontrollably: his large hands holding you against the tree, his husky voice promising that he only wanted you, that he wanted you to have his babies, his deep thrusts while he told you he was going to fill you…

And now you were alone. Pregnant. With a baby growing inside you that he didn’t even know existed.

You cried until your throat hurt and you had no more tears left. You stayed curled up in the fetal position, hugging your belly with both hands, trembling.

You didn’t know what you were going to do. You didn’t know how to tell your father. And, above all, you didn’t know if you would ever see the man who had destroyed you and, at the same time, given you the most important thing in your life again.

You stayed locked in your room for days, as if the outside world no longer existed. The curtains always closed, the dim light of the night lamp barely illuminating the mess that was your bed: used tissues everywhere, the silent phone on the nightstand, and you curled up in the fetal position, hugging your knees to your chest.

Every morning the nausea woke you before dawn, forcing you to run to the bathroom with your hand over your mouth. Vomiting left you exhausted, trembling, with a bitter taste in your throat and fresh tears running down your cheeks.

You thought about him constantly. About his promises, about his husky voice saying he only wanted you, that he was going to leave Laura, that he wanted you to be the mother of his children.

Lies. It had all been lies born of the heat of the moment. Now you were alone with a baby growing inside you, and he had left as if nothing, as if the days in the forest had meant absolutely nothing.

Some nights the pain was so great that you sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the bottle of sleeping pills you had stolen from your father’s medicine cabinet.

You counted them over and over in the palm of your hand. It would be so easy, you thought. Swallow them all, close your eyes and stop feeling this emptiness. You imagined how your father would find you cold in the morning, and that made you cry harder, but the thought returned. No one really loves me. No one is going to love me with this inside. You felt broken, dirty, stupid. A silly girl who spread her legs for her father’s best friend, an ex-convict who had used her and discarded her.

Your father noticed the change almost immediately.

At first he respected your space, thinking it was sadness over the guests’ departure or university stress. But the days passed and you barely left your room. You ate little, almost nothing. You had deep dark circles, a pale face and swollen eyes from crying so much in silence.

One afternoon, after you tried to eat something in the kitchen and ended up vomiting in the bathroom again, he gently knocked on your door.

“Daughter… can I come in?”

You didn’t answer at first. You stayed curled up in bed, your face buried in the wet pillow.

He opened the door slowly. The light from the hallway made you squint. He sat on the edge of the bed carefully, as if afraid of breaking you.

“You’ve been like this for days. You barely eat, you don’t go out, you don’t talk… You’re worrying me a lot, my life. What’s wrong? You can tell me anything.”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. The tears were already starting to come again.

“No… I can’t, Dad. Please, leave me.”

He sighed, but didn’t move. He caressed your hair tenderly, like when you were a child.

“I’m your father. I’ve known you since you were born. I know when something is destroying you inside. I’m not going to pressure you if you don’t want to, but… look at you. You’re suffering alone and I can’t stand it. Let me help you. Whatever it is, I’m going to protect you. I’ve always done that. Nothing is going to change that.”

His voice was so soft, so full of unconditional love, that something inside you broke. You started sobbing hard, your body shaking. He immediately hugged you, surrounding you with his strong arms, and you clung to his shirt as if you were going to drown.

“Dad… I’m pregnant,” you finally whispered, with a broken, almost inaudible voice.

The silence that followed was heavy, eternal. You felt his body tense against yours. His hand stopped caressing your back for a second.

“What…?” he murmured, stunned.

You pulled away a little to look at him. His face was pale, his eyes wide open, as if he couldn’t process the words. He remained frozen, searching your face for some sign that it was a cruel joke. But he only saw tears, shame and pure terror.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, crying harder. “I don’t know what to do… I’m scared, Dad. So scared.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He ran a hand over his face, breathing heavily. The shock was visible: the wrinkles on his forehead became more pronounced, his eyes watered.

“My God…” he finally whispered.

You shrank, waiting for rejection, anger, disgust.

“Please… don’t stop loving me,” you begged between sobs, your voice broken. “I know I’m an idiot, that I ruined everything, but don’t leave me alone. Don’t hate me… please.”

He reacted then. He hugged you tightly, almost desperately, burying your face against his chest. You felt his tears fall on your hair.

“Never, my girl. I’m never going to stop loving you. I love you more than anything in this world. You’re my daughter, my everything. None of this is going to change that,” his voice broke. “But… fuck, I’m disappointed. Very disappointed. Not because of the baby… but because you didn’t come to me sooner. Because you’ve been suffering all this alone.”

“I know,” you cried against his shirt. “I know, Dad. I was terrified. I felt alone, stupid… I thought… I wanted to die. Some nights… I thought about ending it all.”

He hugged you tighter, as if he wanted to merge with you to protect you from the world.

“Don’t say that. Never. We’re going to get through this together. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

You stayed hugged to him for a long time, crying until your lungs hurt.

He rocked you gently, kissing your head, his own silent tears. The weight of disappointment was there, heavy between the two of you, but love was greater.

When your sobs calmed a little, he pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, with his hands on your shoulders.

“Who is the father?” he asked in a hoarse voice, trying to stay calm. “Is it Tony? Did that idiot do this to you?”

You shook your head, lowering it.

“No… it’s not Tony.”

He frowned, confused and increasingly tense.

“Then who? Tell me his name.”

You didn’t answer. The words got stuck in your throat. You looked toward the window, with your eyes full of tears again.

“Daughter… who is it?” he insisted, softer but firm.

Silence.

His expression changed. Something seemed to click in his mind. His eyes darkened with pain and contained rage.

“Is it his?” he asked in a low voice, almost fearing the answer.

You just nodded, biting your lip hard until it bled a little. The tears fell silently again.

He let out a choked sound, between surprise and deep fury. He got up from the bed and walked a few steps around the room, running his hands through his hair.

“Son of a bitch…” he murmured. “How…? How could you…?”

“Dad…” you whispered. “How did you know?”

He stopped and looked at you, with red eyes.

“I’m not an idiot. I saw how you looked at him in the house, at the lake… the glances, how you got nervous when he was around. I thought it was just a silly girl’s thing, an innocent attraction. I never imagined…” his voice broke again. “I’m very disappointed. In both of you. He was like a brother to me. I trusted him. And you… my girl. He took advantage of you. He got you pregnant and left like a coward.”

He approached again and sat down, but this time with slumped shoulders.

“If I see him… I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll make him pay for every tear you’ve shed.”

“No!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm desperately. “Dad, please… no. I love him. I know it sounds stupid, but I love him. It was real for me. Don’t hurt him. Please.”

He looked at you for a long time, with his broken heart visible on his face. Rage, disappointment, protective love… all mixed together.

Finally he hugged you again, tightly, as if he wanted to absorb all your pain.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” he whispered against your hair. “But you’re going to be okay, I promise.”

You stayed there, in his arms, crying silently while he held you.

You kept the baby. There was no other real option in your heart, even though fear accompanied you every day. With your father’s silent but firm support, you started going to the doctor. The first appointments were terrible: your hands trembled while you had the tests done, you felt shame when the doctor asked about the father and you could only look down. You heard your baby’s heartbeat for the first time and cried on the examination table, a mix of terror and overwhelming tenderness you didn’t expect.

Little by little you faced reality.

You bought vitamins, looser clothes, and began to notice how your belly was gently rounding. Some nights you still cried silently, but you no longer thought about the pills. You had a reason to keep going. Your father was there: he accompanied you to appointments, prepared meals that didn’t make you nauseous, and although disappointment still floated between you like a shadow, he never let go of your hand.

One night, while you were having dinner at the kitchen table, there was a knock at the door. It was late, almost nine o’clock. You got up carefully, placing a hand on your already visible belly under the loose t-shirt.

“I’ll get it,” you said softly.

You opened the door… and the world stopped.

There he was, and when he saw you, a tentative smile formed on his lips.

“Princess…” he murmured.

Your knees weakened. You felt everything spinning. You grabbed the door frame to keep from falling, your heart beating so hard you thought you were going to faint. The air left your lungs. You couldn’t speak, you just looked at him, with your eyes full of tears that began to fall uncontrollably.

His smile lasted barely two seconds.

Your father appeared behind you like lightning. He didn’t say a word, he just closed his fist and threw a punch straight to his face. The dry sound of the impact echoed in the hallway. He staggered back, but your father didn’t stop. He gave him another punch to the jaw, and another to the stomach that doubled him over.

“Dad! Stop!” you screamed, horrified.

You ran toward them. He was on the porch floor, bleeding from the mouth. You tried to intervene, pushing your father with all your strength.

“Enough, please! You’re going to kill him!”

Your father was breathing like a wounded animal, with bloody knuckles and eyes full of fury. You managed to separate them enough. He spat blood on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at your father with confusion and pain.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growled, trying to get up.

Your father approached again and, before you could stop him, spat in his face.

“You trampled on our friendship. I trusted you like a brother and you… you fucked my daughter. You’re a disgusting person. You broke her heart and the worst of all… you got her pregnant, you son of a bitch. You disappeared and left her alone with this.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

He slowly raised his gaze toward you. His green eyes widened in horror when he saw the tears running down your cheeks, your protective hand on your rounded belly, the way you were trembling. The color left his face.

“What…?” he whispered, almost without voice.

He got up with difficulty, staggering, and tried to approach you.

“Princess… please…”

Your father pushed him hard against the wall.

“Don’t get close to her.”

“Please…” he begged, his voice broken, looking only at you. “I need to talk to her. I left Laura. I did everything… for her.”

Your father let out a bitter, rage-filled laugh.

“Shameless. You show up now, after months, and you expect…”

“Dad,” you intervened, with a trembling but firm voice. “Let us talk. Please. Just… a moment.”

Your father looked at you, torn between fierce protection and love for you.

Finally, with his jaw clenched, he nodded.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He left, but left the door ajar. The atmosphere remained charged, heavy.

He took a step toward you, but you instinctively moved away, crossing your arms over your chest. The tears wouldn’t stop.

“No… don’t come near me,” you said in a broken voice. “You have no right.”

“Love, let me explain…”

“No!” you exclaimed, and all the accumulated sadness came out like a torrent. “Explain what? That you used me? I spent weeks thinking you only wanted my body. That all those promises at the lake, in the forest, were just words to fuck me. You left me alone. You disappeared. I thought you were going to come back. I waited for your call like an idiot… and nothing. I found out about the pregnancy vomiting every morning, crying until I had no tears left. I thought about dying, you know? About swallowing pills because I felt dirty, used, broken. Because the man who said he loved me, who wanted me to be the mother of his children, abandoned me like I was garbage.”

Your voice broke into sobs. You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to contain yourself, but you couldn’t.

“Every medical appointment I went to alone at first. Every night I felt this baby move and thought you would never know him. That I had ruined everything by believing you. I hated you. I hated you so much… and at the same time I still loved you and that destroyed me even more.”

He was devastated. Tears ran down his face. He ran his hands through his hair, desperate.

“Forgive me… Please, forgive me. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

You stayed silent, trembling. Finally, in a thread of voice, you told him:

“Talk. Explain. But I don’t know if I want to hear it.”

He approached slowly, until he was a meter away from you. His voice was hoarse, broken by emotion.

“I was a coward. When we returned from the lake, guilt ate me alive. Laura suspected something, your father was there… I thought I had to fix my marriage first, do things right, separate like a man before coming for you. But every day without you was hell. I called you mentally, wrote messages that I deleted. I wanted to give you stability, not drag you into my mess. When I finally left Laura a few weeks ago, I came as fast as I could. I didn’t know… I didn’t know about the baby.”

His voice broke. He knelt in front of you, right there in the entrance, with his knees on the cold floor.

“I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. It wasn’t just your body. It was your laugh, the way you looked at me, your strength. I want to be with you. I want to be the father of that baby. I want to wake up every day by your side and make up for every tear. Please… don’t shut me out. Don’t push me away. I need you. I need both of you.”

He was crying openly, kneeling like a broken man, with his face swollen from the blows and dried blood at the corner of his lips. He extended a trembling hand toward you, without touching you, waiting.

“Forgive me, princess. Give me a chance to prove to you that this time I’m not going to leave. Please…”

The air was charged with pain, wounded love, broken promises and new pleas. You stayed there, with one hand on your belly and your heart in pieces, not knowing if you could forgive or if the damage was already irreparable. The tears continued to fall, silently, while you looked at him kneeling in front of you.

“Why…?” you whispered between sobs, with a broken and trembling voice. “Why do I have to love you so much? Tell me… why can’t I hate you like I should? You left. You left me alone with all this… and still, every night I dreamed of you. Every time I felt the baby move, I thought of you. Why do I have to love you in this stupid and painful way?”

He raised his gaze toward you, with his reddened green eyes full of tears. His beaten face was swollen, but the real pain was in his expression. He extended a trembling hand, not daring to touch you yet.

“Cause’ I love you the same way,” he answered in a hoarse, broken voice. “Because what we have is bigger than fear, than my mistakes, than everything. I made the worst mistake of my life by walking away. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I only destroyed you. Forgive me… please, princess. Give me another chance. Let me prove to you that this time I’m going to stay. I’m going to be there for you and for our baby. I’m not going to fail you again.”

The tears prevented you from seeing clearly.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand, breathing unevenly. The weight of everything you had lived through was still there, oppressing your chest.

“Get up…” you finally whispered, with a weak voice. “Please, get up. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

He stood up slowly, with difficulty, grimacing in pain from your father’s blows. As soon as he was in front of you, you took a step and kissed him. It was a desperate kiss, salty with tears, full of rage and love at the same time. Your hands clung tightly to his shirt, as if you feared he would disappear again. He reciprocated with the same intensity, surrounding you with his large, warm arms, careful not to press too hard on your belly.

When you separated, you rested your forehead against his, still crying.

“I hate you…” you murmured against his lips. “I hate you for what you put me through. For every night I thought I didn’t matter to you. But I love you more. I love you so much it hurts to breathe. I don’t know how I’m going to forgive you completely… but I can’t let you go.”

He closed his eyes, pressing you gently against his chest. One of his hands lowered to your belly and caressed it with reverence, feeling for the first time the curve where his son was growing.

“I love you,” he said in a deep, trembling voice. “I love you like I never thought I could love someone. These months away were hell. I realized I missed your laugh, the way you laugh when something really amuses you. I missed your whims, how you got angry about everything and furrowed your brow in that adorable way. I missed the way you looked at me when you thought no one was watching… that mix of desire and shyness that drove me crazy. I missed your scent, your voice, the way you gave yourself to me without reservations. Everything about you. Every damn thing. There’s no one else for me. Only you.”

He hugged you tighter, kissing your hair, your forehead, your wet cheeks. You continued crying against his chest, but now it was a different cry: softer, more liberating.

The pain was still there, deep and slowly healing, but for the first time in months you felt a glimmer of hope.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again…” you whispered. “But I want to try. For me. For the baby. For us.”

He nodded, without letting you go.

“I’m going to earn that trust every day. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Forever, princess.”

You stayed hugged in the entrance, under the dim light of the porch, while your father waited in the kitchen, probably listening to everything. The world outside kept turning, but at that moment only the two of you existed, trying to rebuild what you had almost destroyed forever.

The following months were not easy. For your father, accepting the relationship was a slow and painful process. At first he barely tolerated his presence in the house. Dinners were tense, conversations short and full of awkward silences. Your father looked at him with a mix of contained rage and deep disappointment every time he saw him touch your belly or kiss you on the forehead. More than once you heard arguments between them in the living room: harsh words, reproaches about the betrayed friendship and about the responsibility he now had.

But time, as always, did its work. Your father saw how he was there every day. He saw him accompany you to all the medical appointments, hold your hand during the ultrasounds, paint the baby’s room with patience and carry the boxes of diapers without complaining. He saw how he took care of you. And, above all, he saw how you started smiling again little by little. One day, after a dinner in which he helped wash the dishes without anyone asking, your father just sighed deeply and told him:

“I don’t forgive you for what you did. But if you’re going to be with my daughter and my grandson… you’d better do it right. If you hurt her again, I won’t settle for a few punches.”

It was the closest thing to a blessing you were going to get.

He kept his word. He quickly sold the house in Texas, closed that chapter of his life with Laura and used the money to buy a large and beautiful house just two streets from your father’s. He wanted you to be close to your family, to have support. Together you started organizing the baby’s room: you painted the walls a soft gray and yellow, assembled the crib, placed furniture and hung small glowing stars on the ceiling. He spent hours there with you, placing everything carefully, kissing your belly every time he bent down.

He accompanied you everywhere. To childbirth preparation classes, for afternoon walks so you could move, even to buy maternity clothes. Things weren’t perfect: there were moments of insecurity, arguments due to fatigue and fear of the future, nights when you woke up crying remembering the abandonment. But you tried. A little more every day.

You only heard about Laura once. One afternoon, while he was talking on the phone in the garden, you heard his raised voice through the half-open window.

“…yes, the house is already sold. No, I’m not going to give you more than what we agreed. And stop insulting her, Laura. She has nothing to do with this. This was my decision.”

You heard her call you “young whore” and other hurtful things before he hung up. You didn’t care. You already had enough with your own world.

He made sure to make you feel loved every day. Small details: flowers for no reason, massages for your swollen feet, slow kisses in the mornings, his hands always seeking to touch you as if he needed to remind himself that you were real. He constantly repeated that you were beautiful, even when you felt huge and tired.

One night, when you were already nine months pregnant, you went out to dinner at a quiet restaurant. You felt especially pretty in a black maternity dress that gently hugged your figure. The dinner was pleasant, full of laughter and plans for the future. At one point you went to the bathroom and, when you returned, you saw the scene: an attractive woman, more or less his age, was leaning over the table openly flirting with him.

“…and tell me, what is a man like you doing here alone?” she was saying.

He looked up, and with a firm and cold voice he replied:

“Go away. I have a wife.”

The woman laughed, unaware of your presence.

“I don’t see her anywhere…”

You appeared right behind her, placing a possessive hand on his shoulder.

“Here I am,” you said in a clear and calm voice. “I’m his wife.”

The woman looked you up and down, noticing your prominent belly, and left muttering something between her teeth. You sat down again, with a small smile on your lips. It had been a long time since you had felt jealous. That night, that small pang of possessiveness reminded you how much you loved him.

You arrived home charged with that energy. As soon as you closed the door to the bedroom, he kissed you with contained hunger. It had been weeks since you had had sex; the advanced pregnancy and fatigue had put it on pause. But that night was different.

He undressed you with reverent slowness, kissing every inch of skin he discovered. He knelt in front of you and kissed your swollen belly, whispering words of love against your skin. He helped you lie on your side, the most comfortable position at that moment, and positioned himself behind you. His large hands caressed your more sensitive breasts, gently pinching the nipples while he kissed your neck.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured against your ear, his voice husky with desire. “So mine.”

When he entered you, he did it slowly, inch by inch, careful with every movement. You moaned loudly, because after so long without feeling him, the sensation was exquisite. You were more sensitive, tighter, and each slow, deep thrust made you tremble. He held you with one arm around your waist, the other hand caressing your clit with perfect circles.

“Fuck…” he growled against your neck. “You’re so hot, so wet for me…”

You moved against him as best you could, seeking more depth. The pleasure was different now: more intense, more emotional. Every time he entered to the bottom you moaned his name, and he responded with kisses and words of love.

“Cum for me, princess… let me feel you,” he whispered, accelerating just a little, always careful.

The orgasm hit you like a slow and powerful wave. You contracted around him, trembling in his arms as you moaned. He followed shortly after, cumming inside you with a long, husky grunt, hugging you tightly against his chest.

You stayed joined for a long time, breathing heavily. He didn’t pull out of you immediately. He kissed your nape, your cheek, and caressed your belly with tenderness.

“I love you,” he repeated over and over. “This is just the beginning. We’re going to be okay.”

That night you slept glued to him, with his protective hand on your belly and your heart calmer than it had been in a long time. The wounds were still there, but little by little they were turning into scars. And for the first time in months, you felt that the future could be good. Together.

A few days later, in the early morning, while you were sleeping glued to his chest, you felt the first strong contraction. It was like a bolt of pain that ran through your back and belly. You complained and he woke up immediately.

“Is it time?” he asked, alert in seconds.

You nodded, biting your lip. Labor had begun.

The following hours were intense. You arrived at the hospital quickly. Your father followed in his car, nervous but present. The birth was natural, as you wanted, but it wasn’t easy. You were a first-time mother and the baby was big. The contractions became stronger and closer together.

You sweated, moaned in pain, squeezing his hand so hard you thought you were going to break his fingers.

“Breathe, princess… I’m here,” he repeated non-stop, wiping your forehead with a cold cloth, kissing your sweat-soaked hair. “You’re doing incredible. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

You screamed with every push. The pain was tearing, as if your body was opening in two. At one point, between contraction and contraction, you cried exhausted.

“I can’t… it hurts so much…”

“Yes you can,” he told you in a firm but loving voice, looking you in the eyes. “It’s almost over. Our son is about to arrive. Hold on a little longer.”

Your father waited outside, pacing back and forth. The nurses came in and out. After almost twelve hours of labor, the doctor told you it was time.

“Push! Hard!”

You screamed with all your strength. You felt your body opening, the intense burning, the overwhelming pressure. And then… the cry. A strong, healthy, vigorous cry filled the room.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced with a smile. “He’s perfect!”

They placed the baby on your chest almost immediately, still connected by the cord. He was wet, wrinkled, with a red face and clenched little fists, but to you he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life.

He was chubby, with full cheeks and a bit of dark hair on his head. You hugged him against your skin, crying uncontrollably.

“My baby…” you whispered, kissing his little head. “Hello, my love… you’re here.”

You never imagined you could love someone so much so quickly. That love was instant, fierce, overwhelming. It was as if all the pain, fear and tears of the previous months were worth it just to have him there, breathing against your chest.

He was by your side, with his eyes full of tears he didn’t bother to hide. He let them run freely while he caressed the baby’s back with a trembling hand and kissed your forehead over and over.

“Thank you…” he murmured with a broken voice. “Thank you for our son. You’re incredible. I love you so much…”

He cried without shame, with silent sobs, looking at his son as if he couldn’t believe he was real. That big, strong man, who had been in prison, was completely undone with emotion in front of his little one.

After they sutured you and cleaned you up, they moved you to a private room.

You were exhausted but happy, with the baby already clean and wrapped in a blanket, sleeping peacefully in your arms. Your father came in for a while, excited, and held his grandson with trembling hands. There were tears from him too. Then he left you alone.

When things calmed down, you looked at him, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, unable to stop touching the baby.

“It didn’t seem like you’d been in prison for so long,” you said with a tired but teasing smile. “You cried like a child when you saw him.”

He let out a low, husky laugh, wiping his still wet eyes. He leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips.

“How could I not cry?” he replied, looking at you with so much love that you felt your heart swell. “I was watching my woman, the person I love most in the world, give birth to our son. It was the most beautiful and strongest thing I’ve seen in my life. I cried with pride, with gratitude… with love. All together.”

He caressed the chubby cheek of the baby, who slept deeply, with his thumb.

“He looks like you,” he murmured. “He has your nose.”

“And your eyes, I hope,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a long time: you resting in bed, him by your side, with one hand on your shoulder and the other near the baby. The room was silent, only interrupted by the soft breathing of the newborn. For the first time in a long time, everything seemed to be in its place.

You and him had gone through hell, but there both were: a family.