Page 38 of The Bratty Heir

"Maybe I want to get burned," Rocco shot back, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Before Victor could respond, Rocco slipped his hand beneath the thin fabric of the gown. He wrapped his fingers around Victor's rapidly hardening cock, relishing the older man's sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck," Victor hissed, his hips bucking into Rocco's touch. "We shouldn't... someone could walk in..."

But his protests died on his lips as Rocco began to stroke him in earnest. The younger man's touch was sure and confident, twisting on the upstroke in a way that made Victor see stars.

"Let them," Rocco breathed, leaning in to nip at Victor's earlobe. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

Victor's control snapped. With a snarl, he yanked Rocco onto the bed, mindful of his injuries but unwilling to be gentle. Rocco went willingly, straddling Victor's thighs as their mouths crashed together in a bruising kiss.

"Greedy little brat," Victor growled, his hands gripping Rocco's ass possessively. "Always pushing, always testing me."

Rocco ground down, creating delicious friction between them. "You love it," he gasped, head falling back as Victor attacked his throat with teeth and tongue.

"God help me, I do," Victor admitted, leaving a trail of biting kisses along Rocco's collarbone. "Love everything about you, baby. Even when you drive me fucking crazy."

The confession, raw and unguarded, made Rocco's heart soar. He captured Victor's face between his hands, pouring every ounce of emotion into a searing kiss.

When they broke apart, both panting, Rocco's eyes shone with unshed tears. "I love you too," he whispered, the words feeling monumental and fragile all at once. "So much it scares me sometimes."

Victor's expression softened, a tenderness in his gaze that made Rocco's breath catch. "Oh, baby," he murmured, thumb brushing over Rocco's cheekbone. "You don't ever have to be scared with me. I've got you. Always."

The moment hung between them, charged with promise and possibility. But before either could speak again, a sharp knock at the door shattered the intimate bubble.

They sprang apart, Rocco nearly tumbling off the bed in his haste to look presentable. Victor cursed under his breath, struggling to adjust the hospital gown to hide his obvious arousal.

The door swung open to reveal a nurse, her eyebrows rising as she took in the scene before her. "Everything alright in here?" she asked, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

Rocco felt his face flame, but Victor just chuckled. "Never better," he said smoothly. "Just discussing some... family business."

The nurse's smile widened. "I'm sure," she said dryly. "Well, I hate to interrupt, but it's time for your pain medication, Mr. Kovac."

As she bustled about, checking Victor's vitals and administering the drugs, Rocco couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. The heat of moments ago had faded, replaced by the stark reality of their situation.

Victor was still injured, still vulnerable. And the looming confrontation with Giovanni hung over them like a storm cloud, ready to break at any moment.

When the nurse finally left, Rocco sank back into the chair beside Victor's bed. The older man reached out, taking Rocco's hand in his.

"We'll figure this out," Victor said, voice rough with emotion and the effects of the medication. "Whatever your father throws at us, whatever comes next... we'll face it together."

Rocco nodded, squeezing Victor's hand. "Together," he echoed, a small smile playing at his lips. "I like the sound of that."

As Victor's eyes began to droop, the pain meds kicking in, Rocco settled in for another long night of vigil. His mind raced with possibilities and fears, but beneath it all was a current of hope.

Whatever came next, they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

CHAPTER 15

THE CALM AND THE STORM

The New York skyline glittered like a jewel box against the inky night as Rocco gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. After weeks of hospital visits and tense negotiations with his father, they were finally home. The city thrummed with its usual frenetic energy, but up here, high above the chaos, a rare sense of peace settled over him.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and Rocco leaned back into Victor's solid warmth. He breathed in the familiar scent of sandalwood and gunpowder, letting it soothe the lingering tension from the past few weeks.

"Penny for your thoughts, baby boy?" Victor's voice was a low rumble against Rocco's ear.

Rocco shivered at the pet name, heat pooling low in his belly. "Just thinking about how much has changed," he murmured. "A few months ago, I was a fucking mess. And now..."

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