Page 33 of Hero Worship

For once, my BPD brain was quiet. No spiraling thoughts, no fear of abandonment. Just the steady beat of Ash's heart against my back and the absolute certainty that I belonged to him.

"Yours," I whispered, and I actually believed it.

I pulled out slowly,every tremor in Xander's body registering like electricity against my skin. The intimacy of the moment hit me harder than the sex had. This wasn't just about physical release anymore. This was about trust. About letting someone see parts of me I'd kept locked away for forty-two years.

My hands shook slightly as I cleaned them up, overwhelmed by the need to take care of them properly. The way Xander melted into my touch, so trusting despite everything they'd been through, made something fierce and protective stir in me. Watching them come apart on my cock had been incredible, butthis? This vulnerability as I tended to them? It threatened to break me completely.

I tugged his ruined panties back into place, sealing my claim with gentle hands. The sight of him wearing my marks, his own release trapped against his skin by delicate lace, stirred something possessive and primal in my gut. Mine. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it felt right.

My hands traced patterns on his skin, memorizing every reaction, every shiver. He'd shown me such trust, letting me see past his defenses to the vulnerability beneath. The intimacy of that surrender awoke something fierce and protective in my chest. This beautiful, deadly creature had chosen to let me in, to trust me with not just his body but his truth. A truth that had nothing to do with gender and everything to do with the soul beneath.

Twenty years of behavioral analysis had taught me to read people's deepest fears, to understand what drove them. But nothing in my training had prepared me for how it would feel to hold someone who needed my control as much as I needed to give it.

"Look at me, baby," I murmured, turning him onto his back. His eyes were glazed, pupils still blown wide from pleasure and lingering ketamine. Beautiful and broken and so fucking perfect it made my chest ache. "You with me?"

He nodded, but I caught the way he bit his bottom lip. The way his hands clenched in the sheets like he was fighting the urge to reach for me.

"Come here." I gathered him into my arms, letting him burrow against my chest. His skin was silk against mine, and Christ, how had I never known it could feel like this with someone?

"You're shaking," Xander whispered, his voice small and uncertain. "Did I... was it not good?"

The vulnerability in his voice made my heart clench. This beautiful, deadly creature actually thought he hadn't been perfect? That he hadn't just broken down every wall I’d ever built?

My training kicked in automatically, tracking the expressions that flashed across his face. Fear of abandonment warred with desperate hope in those impossible eyes. His borderline personality disorder made him expect rejection, made him test boundaries to see if I'd walk away like everyone else had.

But I wasn't everyone else.

"Baby, no." I tilted his chin up, making him meet my eyes. "You were incredible. I'm just... processing. This is all new for me."

His eyes widened slightly. "You mean... I was your first? First time with someone like me?"

I nodded, throat tight. "Yeah. And I know that probably makes you nervous, makes you think I might freak out or change my mind. But I need you to understand something." I caught his face between my hands, making sure he couldn't look away. "Just because this is new doesn't mean it isn't real. Doesn't mean I don't want you with an intensity that fucking terrifies me."

Tears welled in those beautiful eyes, and fuck, I wasn't equipped for this. Wasn't prepared for how seeing him cry would make me want to burn the world down just to make him smile again.

"I've never..." He swallowed hard, voice cracking. "No one's ever taken care of me like this after. Usually I just... leave. Or they do."

The admission broke something open in my chest. I'd read their file, knew about the string of meaningless hookups and one-night stands. But hearing the raw pain in their voice, seeing how touch-starved they were for genuine affection? It mademe want to hunt down every person who'd ever used him and explain exactly why that had been a mistake.

"Well, that stops now." I pressed a kiss to his forehead, his temple, the corner of his mouth. "You're mine now, remember? That means I take care of what belongs to me."

A soft sound escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. I held him tighter as the tears finally came, letting him fall apart in my arms. Every shake of his shoulders, every choked breath against my skin, made that protective instinct flare hotter.

"I've got you," I murmured, running my hands over his trembling body. "Let it out, baby. I've got you."

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, my hands never stopping their gentle exploration of his skin. Learning every scar, every freckle, every place that made him shiver or press closer. But as his tears slowed, those shivers took on a different quality. Each touch drew softer sounds from his throat, needier sounds that made my cock stir despite how thoroughly I'd just claimed him.

"Please," he whispered against my chest, voice still rough from crying. "Need you again. Need to know this is real."

I shouldn't. He was still emotionally raw. But the way he pressed against me, seeking reassurance through touch... It felt wrong to deny him.

"Okay, baby," I murmured, rolling him beneath me. This time when I kissed him, it was gentle. Thorough. Nothing like the desperate clash of tongues from before. "Let me show you how real this is."

His legs fell open for me, still wearing those ruined panties, and Christ, seeing him like this—tear-stained and trembling and so fucking trusting—shattered every preconception I'd ever had about desire.

I took my time opening them up again, even though they were still loose and slick from before. Their body yielded beautifully to my exploring fingers, inner muscles clenching eagerly around each slow thrust. Every curl of my fingers drew desperate whimpers from their throat, their hips rolling unconsciously, seeking more. The sight of them spread out beneath me, still wearing those ruined lace panties pushed aside just enough, made my cock twitch with renewed need. But this wasn't just about physical pleasure anymore. This was about finally accepting who I was, who I could want. About letting myself have this without shame or hesitation.

The contrast of them had my head spinning. Xander was all hard edges and soft vulnerability, strength wrapped in grace. They were everything I never knew I needed until this moment, perfect in ways I couldn't have imagined.

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