Page 34 of Hero Worship

I reached for another condom from the nightstand, the crinkle of the wrapper loud in the quiet room. His eyes never left mine as I rolled it on, the trust in his gaze making my chest tight. When I finally pushed inside him again, the broken sound he made wasn't just pleasure. It was relief. Recognition. Home. And fuck, how had I denied myself this for so long? The heat of him surrounding me, the trust in his eyes as he took everything I gave him… It felt like waking up. Like finally understanding a part of myself I'd kept locked away for forty-two years.

"I've got you," I breathed, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had him gasping with each thrust. My hands mapped every inch of skin I could reach, memorizing the way he felt beneath me. No more denial. No more pretending I didn't want this. Want him. "Not going anywhere, baby. You're mine now."

"Yours," he echoed, voice cracking as I hit that spot inside him that made him gasp and moan. "Please, Daddy, don't stop..."

I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not when every thrust felt like coming home. Not when each pleasured groan confirmed what I'd beenfighting for so long. This was exactly where I belonged. Inside him. Over him. Possessing every beautiful, contradictory inch of him.

The sight of them coming untouched in those pretty panties again nearly broke me. Their whole body seized up, back arching off the bed as pleasure wracked through them. Each pulse of their release dampened the delicate lace further, their inner muscles clenching rhythmically around my cock as they cried out my name like a prayer. Their thighs trembled against my hips, fingers leaving crescent marks on my shoulders as they held on through the intensity of it. I followed him over the edge, filling the condom as I ground deep inside him, making sure he'd feel the phantom pressure of me with every step onto that plane.

We lay tangled together afterward, his breath evening out into soft, sated sighs. My mind was quiet for the first time in years. No more wrestling with my sexuality, no more denying what I wanted. Just peace. Certainty. The bone-deep knowledge that this beautiful creature belonged to me now, and I'd burn the world down to keep him.

I pressed a kiss to his damp cheek, tasting salt and sex and something sweeter. Something like belonging. "Think you can stand? We should get cleaned up properly before our flight."

He nodded against my chest but made no move to pull away. "What time is it?"

"We've got about three hours." I glanced at the clock, doing mental calculations. "Plenty of time for a shower and some food."

That got his attention. He lifted his head, eyes still red but clearer now. "Together?"

"Yeah, baby. Together." I brushed his hair back from his forehead, marveling at how soft it was. "Think you can be good and actually let me get you clean? Or are you going to try to start something we don't have time to finish?"

A ghost of his usual smirk crossed his face. "No promises, Daddy."

Christ. Even fucked out and emotional, he could still push my buttons like no one else. I swatted his ass lightly, drawing a surprised yelp. "Brat. Come on, up you get."

I helped him to his feet, steadying him when his legs wobbled. The sight of him in my ruined shirt, covered in marks I'd left, made possessive satisfaction curl in my gut. But there was something else too—a softness I hadn't expected to feel. A need to protect that went beyond simple dominance.

My father had only ever wanted to possess, to control. But watching Xander lean against me, trusting me to keep him safe? I realized I wanted more than that. I wanted to possess him, yes. But I also wanted to cherish him. To show him that he deserved gentle touches as much as rough ones.

"What are you thinking about?" Xander asked as I guided him toward the bathroom. "You've got that profiler face on."

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Just thinking about how perfect you are. And how much I'm going to enjoy showing you exactly what that means."

His breath hitched, but before he could respond, I was already turning on the shower. We haa killer to hunt. The rest—my sexual crisis, his emotional vulnerabilities, whatever this thing between us was becoming—would have to wait.

But as I stepped under the spray with them, watching water sluice down their perfect body, tracing paths over the marks I'd left, catching on their collarbones and highlighting every perfect curve and plane of muscle. Their skin was still flushed, marks of my possession standing out even more vividly under the warm water. Each droplet caressed them in ways that made my hands itch to follow.

The mission loomed ahead of us: a transatlantic flight, a killer to hunt, a cover to maintain. But as I carefully scrubbed his skin,I knew something fundamental had shifted. This wasn't just about the job anymore. This was about protecting them, about cherishing what was mine.

My father had taught me that love was weakness, that real power came from control. But holding Xander, feeling his complete trust in my strength, I understood something my father never had. True power wasn't about breaking someone to your will. It was about being trusted enough to protect their vulnerable pieces while cherishing their strength.

In a few hours, we'd be on a plane to Paris, headed straight into Roche's web of preserved dolls and deadly games. But for now, I had everything I needed right here—my beautiful, deadly baby, finally safe in my arms.

Let them come. Anyone who tried to hurt what was mine would learn exactly what forty-two years of restraint looked like when it finally broke.

The hum of theprivate jet's engines were like bees inside my skull. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Xander spread out beneath me, desperate and trusting as I claimed him.

I glanced over at Xander now, curled up in the leather seat beside me. Sleep had softened their features, the careful persona of the professional model falling away. Even without their signature dramatic makeup and carefully curated wardrobe, Xander's presence remained magnetic. Something about their unguarded expression made my protective instincts surge to the forefront.

The gold band on my finger caught the light. It was a prop for our cover story, but one that stirred something possessive in my chest. Just hours ago, I'd marked him as mine in more primal ways. The trust he'd shown me, letting me see his careful routines, telling me where he liked to be touched and where he didn't... it had awakened something I'd spent forty-two years denying.

His breathing changed subtly before his eyes fluttered open, immediately finding mine. For a moment, he looked lost, vulnerable in a way that made my protective instincts flare. Then his public mask slipped into place.

"See something you like, darling?" Xander pitched his voice just loud enough to establish our cover as newlyweds for anyone watching.

"Always," I murmured, keeping my voice low and intimate, playing the doting husband for any observers. I reached over and squeezed his hand, watching his pupils dilate at the possessive touch. "You should try to rest more. It's a long flight."

"I'm not tired." He stretched, putting on a show for our cover but also testing my control. "Tell me more about your latest book. The one about the detective who falls for a criminal?"

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