Page 21 of Hero Worship

My hand moved faster on my cock as I lost myself in the fantasy, imagining Ash finding me like this, spread out and desperate for him. The thought of him catching me, of those storm-gray eyes darkening with hunger as he watched me touch myself... A desperate sound escaped my throat as pleasure built, everything else falling away except the need to chase this feeling, to find some relief from the constant ache of wanting. My hips bucked up into my grip, seeking more friction, more sensation, anything to quiet the chaos in my head.

Papa would say I was using sex the same way some men used alcohol: to numb the pain, to feel something, to feel nothing. My therapist had prettier words for it: "maladaptive coping mechanisms" and "seeking validation through sexual behavior." But in moments like this, with my skin too tight and my thoughts racing too fast, it was either this or the pills hidden in my dresser drawer. At least this way I was only hurting myself.

I arched off the bed, chasing the high that would make everything quiet, just for a moment. My free hand crept lower, pushing aside the lace as I—

"Really, Dee? Again?"

Xavier's voice cut through my fantasy like a bucket of ice water. I yelped, scrambling to cover myself, but it was too late. My brother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing that expression that meant he was about to lecture me again.

"Jesus fuck, X!" I snapped, yanking my blanket over my lap. "Learn to fucking knock!"

"It's my room too, you disaster," he shot back. "And this is like the third time today I've caught you with your hand down your pants thinking about Valentine."

Heat flooded my face, but I forced a smirk. "What can I say? Daddy's got me feeling some type of way."

"Stop." Xavier's voice went sharp, that dangerous edge he usually kept hidden surfacing. "This isn't funny anymore, Dee. You're struggling and we both know it."

The words hit like a physical blow, my chest going tight. "I'm not—"

"You are." He crossed the room in three quick strides, perching on the edge of my bed. His eyes tracked over my face, reading things I tried so hard to hide. "The obsessive fantasies, the risky behavior, pushing everyone away... When's the last time you went a day without getting off to thoughts of him? When's the last time you did anything besides train and pine and self-destruct?"

"Fuck you," I snarled, but there wasn't any real heat in it. We both knew he was right. "I don't need another lecture about my 'concerning behavior patterns.' I get enough of that from my therapist."

"When's the last time you actually went to therapy?"

I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I've been busy."

"Yeah, I noticed." Xavier's voice went sharp. "Busy disappearing to Spade Tower every day, busy avoiding family dinners, busy lying about where you're going and what you're doing."

Ice slid down my spine. The accusation hit too close to home. "I'm not—"

"Don't." He cut me off. "Don't lie to me again. You're hiding something, Dee. Something big. And whatever it is has youfalling apart faster than I've seen since..." He didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to. We both remembered those dark days after Xion's break.

My chest tightened with guilt. I wanted to tell him everything—about the mission, about Paris, about Ash. But I couldn't. Not without putting him at risk. Not without ruining everything I'd worked for. So I did what I always did when things got too real: I deflected.

"What, a guy can't have some privacy?" I forced a smirk. "Maybe I just got tired of you monitoring my every move like some kind of emotional security system."

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I'd gone too far. Xavier went completely still, the kind of stillness that meant I'd actually hurt him. When he spoke again, his voice was deadly quiet.

"You know what? You're right. Maybe I should stop caring so much about what you do. Stop worrying when you disappear for days without answering texts. Stop noticing how you come home with bruises you won't explain. Stop wondering if this time you're going to get yourself killed trying to prove something."

My heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive. He was too close to the truth. Too close to figuring out exactly what kind of training left those bruises, what kind of missions I was preparing for. "X, I can explain—"

"Can you?" His voice was gentle now, which somehow made it worse. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're throwing yourself into something dangerous. Again. Chasing after a man twice your age who probably sees you as nothing but a problem to solve. Again."

"Ash is different."

"Why? Because he's the first daddy type who's actually resisted your charms? Because he makes you work for his attention instead of just taking what you're offering?"

The words struck too close to home, hitting every insecurity I tried to bury under bravado and sex appeal. "You don't understand," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. "The way he looks at me sometimes... like he sees straight through all my bullshit to something worth saving."

"Oh, bratishka." Xavier's expression softened into something painful to look at. "You don't need someone else to save you. You need to stop trying to destroy yourself just to see if anyone cares enough to stop you."

Tears pricked at my eyes and I blinked them back furiously. "I'm not—" My voice cracked. "I'm not trying to destroy myself. I just... I need..."

"What?" Xavier pressed. "What do you need so badly that you're willing to risk everything for it?"

The truth clawed its way up my throat before I could stop it. "To matter," I whispered. "To be worth something to someone who isn't obligated to love me by blood or adoption papers."

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