I woke up to the feeling of being watched. It took me a minute to remember where I was… on the couch with Peter. He was being the big spoon and I was his little spoon, and George, Ajit, Skylar, and Jordan all stood near the kitchen. Not watching me and Peter, but staring at the single seater.

Oh, shit. Tyler.

I sat up. “Hey, guys,” I whispered, craning my neck to see if Tyler was still there. He was, and still sound asleep. I stood up and walked over to my roommates, where I turned to look at our sleeping guest as well.

“I’m sorry I brought him back here without asking, but it was half past three in the morning. He had nowhere else to go.”

They were all still staring at him, at his banged-up face. I couldn’t tell if his eye was better or worse, but his cheek and jaw definitely had more color.

“It’s fine,” George said, clapping me on the shoulder. “He looks like he needed somewhere safe.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna call Mrs Landon this morning. She’ll find him somewhere more permanent.”

“I’ll start cooking breakfast,” Skylar said.

“I have some bacon left,” I said.

“I’ve got enough eggs,” Jordan said.

“I’ll make toast,” George added, and Ajit started the coffee.

Man, I loved these guys.

I went back to the sofa and sat down next to Peter. He was just starting to wake up. He double-blinked and took a second to get his bearings, then his eyes refocused on me and he smiled. I put my hand to his face and traced my thumb across his eyebrow. “You’re so handsome,” I whispered.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” He shuffled a bit so he was more on his back and groaned. “But my back will never forgive me.”

I gave him a sad, frowny face. “Here, let me help you up.”

He sat up first, then got to his feet, ironing out the kinks in his back, then looked toward the stairs. “Uh, bathroom?”

I’d shown him where it was before, so he knew where it was. “Sure. We’re making coffee. Want some?”

“Yes, please.”

Two minutes later, he was back with a coffee cup in hand. We all worked around the kitchen as quietly as possible so as not to wake Tyler. He was sound asleep. I doubted he’d even stirred once during the night. I knew what that kind of exhaustion felt like, and I wondered when he’d last had a proper night’s sleep.

The first thing I did was call Mrs Landon. I gave her a very brief rundown of what had happened, and within twenty minutes, they were on their way here.

I didn’t know if it was the noise of breakfast being dished up or if it was the smell of cooked food, but Tyler woke up. He woke with a start, jolting upright, and immediately recoiled in pain. I hadn’t seen him without a shirt on, but knowing Lance as well as I did, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Tyler had bruised ribs.

I knelt down in front of him. “Hey. It’s all good. Everyone here is cool. They’ve just cooked you up some breakfast. Hungry?”

He looked around the room and at the people in it, much the same way a frightened animal does. But then he looked at the plates of food. “Yeah, I could eat.”

The other four opted to eat theirs in front of the TV, but Peter and I sat with Tyler at the small table. He devoured everything on his plate and two cups of coffee. His eye was a little bit better, still swollen, but not swollen shut. His bruises definitely had more color. When he was done eating, I asked, “Wanna take a shower?”

He nodded timidly, as though he was embarrassed. “Sure.”

I took him upstairs and grabbed him a towel. Then I took in the state of his clothes. “Hang on. Wait here, I might have something that’ll fit you.” I rummaged through the clothes that Mr Landon had kindly given me. I was certain there was a pair of pants that were a bit short in the leg for me. I found them, grabbed an old T-shirt Mr Landon had also given me that I’d only ever worn once, and handed them to Tyler. “Try them on for size. I think they’ll be a mile too big, but they’re clean and they’re yours if you want them.”

He took the offered clothes with his head down. “Hey,” I said gently. “I get it. Everyone in this house gets it. You don’t need to be embarrassed here.” He nodded slowly and looked towards the bathroom door. So I added, “The green shampoo and conditioner is mine; use whatever soap you can find. No one here will care,” and left him to it.

I went back downstairs to find Peter still sitting at the table, his breakfast barely touched. He gave me a tired smile, and instead of sitting on the chair next to him, I sat on his knee instead. I put my arms around him and fingered the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You okay?”

He gave me a sad smile. “Yeah.”

I knew all the things he wasn’t quite ready to say, especially when the others would hear. It’s hard to look at someone when their face is black and blue. What are you supposed to say to someone who’s just been assaulted? How do you stomach food when they’re eating like they haven’t in days? “I know.” I kissed the side of his head. “I know.”

He leaned his face against my shoulder and tightened his arms around me.

“Aw, look at you two being all cute,” Skylar said from the sofa.

I poked my tongue out at her, making Jordan smile, just as there was a knock at the door. “That’ll be the Landons.” I raced over to let them in. Mrs Landon looked as glamorous as always. Even in simple tan slacks and a white cardigan, she looked like a million dollars. Mr Landon was his usual, stylish self, understated yet classy. Though today they both looked concerned. “Tyler’s just upstairs having a shower. He might be a while. You know that first shower is always the best.”

Mrs Landon squeezed my arm, then noticed everyone else in the living room. Like a mother hen and her clutch, she huddled them in for a chat while Mr Landon made a beeline for Peter. “Long night, huh?”

“You could say that,” Peter answered with a smile. I started to collect plates and clean up after breakfast. It was the least I could do after they’d all cooked it. I made more coffee, and by the time I sat back down with Peter, I caught the tail end of their conversation.

“I don’t know how they do it. These kids just pick themselves up and keep moving forward,” Peter said. “They have such resilience, and I’m always telling Yanni he’s much stronger than I would ever be.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. Mr Landon smiled right at me. “Yeah, they’re pretty remarkable.”

Peter sighed. “I guess I don’t know what drives someone or makes them want to hurt another human being. I’ll never understand it.”

“Because you’re a good person,” I said simply. “And good people don’t inflict harm on others. People like Lance are not good or even half-way decent.”

Mrs Landon sat gracefully at the table, picked up her coffee with her pinky finger extended, put the cup to her lips, and said, “Lance Nader is a monster’s asshole, and I hope he rots in jail.”

Everyone laughed, and Mr Landon looked at his wife fondly. “Such elegance.”

She smiled beautifully, just as Tyler came downstairs. He was dressed in the clothes I’d given him; they were miles too big, but at least they were clean. His hair was washed, still wet and slicked back, his dirty clothes rolled into a ball under his arm. I stood up and offered him my seat next to Mrs Landon. “Tyler, this is Mr and Mrs Landon. They run the Acacia Foundation I was telling you about. They helped me find this place to live and got me back into college.”

“And me,” Skylar said, putting her hand up.

Jordan did the same. “And me.”

George gave a salute. “And me.”

Ajit just waved. “I’m just the moral support.” Everyone chuckled.

Knowing the Landons and Tyler were about to have a difficult conversation, and knowing Tyler would probably prefer not to have an audience, they all cleared out and went upstairs, and I took that as mine and Peter’s cue to leave as well. I held out my hand, which he took and got to his feet. “I have to get ready for work, so we’ll just be upstairs. Call out when you’re done.”

Still holding Peter’s hand, I led the way into my bedroom and closed the door behind us. Sure, he’d been in my room before, but this was the first time we’d had the door closed. I felt a little nervous and strangely empowered. Maybe I was just exhausted after a ridiculously stressful night.

“Are you sure you’re all right to work today?” Peter asked. “You didn’t get much sleep.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to let them down. It’s only four hours, and I’ll be so busy I won’t have time to think. And then we can spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing on the sofa.” Then I amended, “Well, not absolutely nothing. I’m sure there’ll be a make-out session or two.”

Peter smiled at that. “I’m sure there will be.”

I started to throw some clothes into my backpack to take to his place. “You can go home and have a snooze, or you can lie down on my bed and sleep for four hours if you like.”

He looked at my bed like it was a serious contender. “Tempting, but I probably should go home. I’ll drop you at work first, though, save you the walk.”

I walked back to him and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Thank you. For last night, for this morning, being here for me. It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I need to have a shower and get dressed for work. I need to shave.” I scratched at my barely-there three whiskers of stubble, then I gently scratched at his full, rough growth. “I could get used to this.”

Peter laughed. “Go and have your shower.”

I grabbed a clean shirt, some briefs, and my last pair of clean work pants. “Make yourself at home,” I said, before heading to the bathroom. I had the quickest shower and shave ever before heading back to my room with my hairbrush in my hand.

Peter was sitting on the end of my newly made bed. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Thought I may as well be useful. But I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do with that.” He nodded toward my pillow, where my purple silk gown now laid neatly folded.

I almost dropped the brush. “Oh, I uh, I um… that’s not mine. Well, it is mine, but I… oh God.”

In two long strides, Peter stood in front of me. He pushed my door closed, took my hand, and sat me down on the bed. “Yanni, it’s fine. You don’t need to hide any part of you from me.”

I picked up the gown and held it in my lap. “I like the way it feels on my skin. I only wear it to bed. It’s smooth and sensual, that’s all. I don’t make a habit of wearing women’s clothes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried about anything,” he answered gently. “You can wear all the women’s clothes you want. I wouldn’t care one bit. If you want to wear this”—he touched the gown—“then you wear it.”

I looked up into his eyes, seeing only understanding there. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He looked at the purple silk, then back to my eyes. “I bet you’re as hot as hell in this. And you wear it to bed?”

I nodded. “When we talk on the phone… and have phone sex.”

Peter swallowed hard and his eyes were smoldering. “Will you wear it for me?”

“Would you like me to?”

His nostrils flared. “Oh yeah.”

Oh. He really liked the idea of it. I bit my lip to hide my smile. “Okay.” I stuffed it into my backpack, figuring I’d work on my courage to actually wear it for him later.

“Yanni?” Mrs Landon called from downstairs.

“Coming!”

I heard George laugh from his room. I rolled my eyes and Peter chuckled, but we went downstairs. The Landons stood with Tyler, who looked like he’d been crying. “We’re heading out now,” Mrs Landon said. “Tyler’s comfortable coming with us, and I have the perfect place in mind for him, so we’ll go and see what he thinks.”

“Awesome!” I said, dropping my backpack near the door.

“Are you going to work?” Mr Landon asked.

“Yeah.” I looked down at my uniform. “It’s just a short lunch shift.”

Mrs Landon put her hands on my shoulders. “You did a wonderful thing.”

I felt my face warm, as did my heart. “Thank you.”

She gave a serious nod. “I’ll be contacting the police and getting report numbers. I want to be kept informed about Lance, and I want to know what lawyer he hires, and if and when he makes bail.” She rubbed my arms. “We’re not letting this go, and I’ll happily make it my mission in life to ensure Mr Nader never lays another finger on another human being.”

“Me too,” I said. “I’m ready to stand up to him now. I wasn’t before, but I am now.”

Mrs Landon’s eyes watered and she hugged me again. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I’d never had a parent tell me they were proud of me for anything, so her words meant more than I could ever say. But she seemed to understand. They made their way to the door, and I said goodbye to Tyler. “Mrs Landon can give you my number. Let me know where you end up.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

We watched them leave, and Peter gave me a hug and kissed my temple. “You ready to go?”

It was almost ten. “Yeah.”

He dropped me off at work, saying he had every intention of going home for a nap before he’d be back to pick me up. I kissed him in the car and went to work. And everything was going great: people were chatty, tips were good, and I’d been so busy I hadn’t had any time to think about last night. I had brief moments, when frothing milk or wiping tables, and wondered how Tyler was getting on, or if Lance was still sitting in a holding cell, hopefully with a few homicidal ice addicts. And it was close to my finishing time, the lunch hour rush was over; I was putting plates away when I remembered something…

Peter told me he loved me.

The plates fell back onto the stack with a clatter, and thankfully nothing broke. Charise was quickly beside me. “Yanni, what is it?”

I couldn’t have wiped the grin off my face if I tried. “Oh, nothing. I just remembered something.”

“Something special, by the look on your face.”

I covered my mouth with my hand. “I can’t believe I forgot! I’ll have some making up to do tonight.”

She waggled her eyebrows and bumped her hip with mine. “Oooooh.”

“No, not like that!” I swatted her away to hide the fact I blushed right down to my toes.

She laughed, and just a few minutes later, she nodded toward the front of the shop where Peter’s car was pulling up. She winked and said, “Have fun, Yanni!”

I was still laughing when I got in the car. This man loved me. This gorgeous, gentle, and kind man was in love with me. “Well, look at you,” he said, leaning over for a kiss. “Work was good, I take it?”

“Work was fine.” I was still grinning, but I didn’t want to have this conversation in his car. I wanted to be able to throw my arms around him and feel him against me. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get home.”

“My place or yours?”

“Your place.”

“Okay, then.” He eyed me curiously, smiled, but said nothing.

But when we walked into his house, he took my hand. “Okay, it’s killing me. What did you want to tell me?”

“I remembered something. Actually, I can’t believe I forgot.” No, that wasn’t right. “I didn’t forget. We just got sidetracked this morning with Tyler.”

“Yanni, please.”

I put my arms around him. “I remembered what you said to me last night.”

“Oh.”

“You told me you loved me.”

“I did.” He wasn’t smiling.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes, very much. I won’t ever lie to you. I just worried it wasn’t the right time.”

“It was the perfect time.” I kissed him, then surprising the crap out of him, I put my arms around his neck and hoisted myself up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He quickly grabbed me, holding me right where I wanted to be.

Surprised, yes, but smiling too. “Yanni, what are you doing?”

“Climbing you like a tree. Now take me to bed. I have a theory I want to test out.”

He blinked, his eyes dark and wary. “Are you sure?”

“Never been surer.”

So he carried me, too easily, like I weighed next to nothing, and laid me down on his bed. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Well, my theory is technically Patrice’s theory, that maybe I won’t feel so vulnerable or exposed if we’re not completely naked. And there’s still plenty we can do with our clothes on. Or mostly on, if you get what I mean.”

“And you’d like to try?”

“I’d love to try.” With my hands cupping his face, I brought his mouth to mine and kissed him. I tilted my head and opened my lips, inviting him in. I spread my legs and he oh-so slowly settled his weight on my body. It made me groan, and he kissed me harder.

In no time at all, he was hard, and so was I. Our erections rubbed together, the fabric of our clothes between us as we kissed and touched, rocked and bucked. I’d been this far with him before, on the couch, but I was certain I was ready for more.

I took a second to evaluate my sensory overload. I searched every nerve for fear or anxiety, but there was none to be found. Only a whole lot of fire, lust, and want. The tightening in my belly was something new and wonderful, and it felt so good.

So I reached between us and fumbled with my belt. Peter lifted his body weight onto his elbows, giving me more room. I undid my belt, and his eyes, a crashing ocean of desire, searched mine. “Feels good?”

I nodded and popped the button and slowly pulled the zipper down. The sound made his breath catch, and I slid my hand beneath the elastic of my briefs and freed my cock. “Feels so good.”

Then I went for his jeans. I managed to get the button undone and I undid the zipper without fumbling too much. I palmed him through his briefs, and he shuddered, his breath hitched.

Could I do this?

Did I feel vulnerable? Not at all. Did I feel safe? Very.

Peter was letting me lead, letting me set the pace, letting me explore. I wasn’t pressured, I wasn’t cornered, I wasn’t doing anything against my will.

Oh no, I wanted this very much. I wanted to have this with him. I wanted to make him happy. That ache in my chest, that desire to make him―my safe harbor, my Daddy―happy, burned.

I slid my hand under his briefs and gripped his cock. He was hard and hot and really big. Something at the base of my spine uncurled at the thought of taking him inside my body. Not yet, but one day. One day soon, I would know what it felt like to have him.

“Oh God, Yanni.” Peter’s breaths were strangled, his face strained, though he never took his eyes off mine. “Oh, my sweet boy.”

Letting go of him, I pushed my briefs down under my balls and let our cocks touch. Lightning set fire to my blood. I gripped us both, gasping at the sensation. Peter looked down between us then, and his whole body jerked. “Fuck,” he whined.

I’d never heard him swear, and to know I made him curse with pleasure thrilled me. I looked down at our cocks too, and oh, my God… his big cock pressing against my smaller one, our shafts sliding, our cockheads alternating through my fist… it was so hot.

“Peter,” I panted. “I’m going to come.”

He groaned and bucked his hips. “Come for Daddy.”

And I did. White-hot pleasure ripped through me, and my cock pumped come onto my stomach. It was blinding and all-encompassing and it would have been a little frightening, but Peter wrapped me in his arms, keeping me safe, and rocked into me. I’d let go of his cock but he came anyway, his orgasm spilling between us. Even through my own orgasm haze, I could feel his cock pulse and jerk as he came.

I held onto him as tight as I could, and then the emotions dumped on me like a wave. I let out a shaky sob, and Peter immediately pulled back. “Yanni?”

I laughed at my own stupid reaction. “Happy tears,” I cried, covering my eyes with my hand.

Peter peeled back my fingers, concern and love in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Very happy. Too much emotion. Or something.” More tears came, and I felt so foolish. “I’ve never felt anything so powerful.”

“Oh, love,” he crooned and kissed me softly. He wiped a stray tear that rolled to my temple. “That was the most incredible thing. You were incredible.”

He kissed me soft and sweet for a few minutes before he took me into the shower. He washed me like I was the most precious thing, and strangely enough, being naked with him in the shower was fine. Maybe it was because it wasn’t sexual. It was tender and loving, but never sexual.

He offered me some of his old comfy track pants and an old college sweater and even a pair of socks. He got dressed too, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, and we cozied up on the couch. He was lying back on the chaise and I was between his legs, my face against his chest, and we spent the entire afternoon as I promised we would, doing not very much at all. We snoozed and he kissed the top of my head every so often and rubbed circles on my back.

I had this feeling, though, that my heart was too big and hot for my chest. Like Peter had taken up all the room there was. Now, I’d known a lot of hate in my life―I’d experienced it firsthand. But I also knew what love was. I wasn’t stupid. I’d had crushes in high school and had fooled around a bit in my first year at college, and even in the early days with Lance, I’d been infatuated, but that didn’t last very long, and it was certainly never love.

But this was. And Peter telling me he loved me was what made it more real. I leaned up on his chest and looked him in the eyes. This gentle, perfect man loved me. He never once treated me like I was broken beyond repair. Instead, he found beauty in my fault lines, like the cracks in my life were what made me strong.

I smiled at him, overwhelmed by emotion. “I love you too.”

His smile was eye-crinkling and a little teary too, but he hooked his hands under my arms and pulled me up to kiss him. He never pushed for more. He never did. He just kissed me until we were all kissed out, then I buried my face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around me, and we snoozed some more.

Later that night when we were getting ready for bed, I grabbed my backpack to pull out my pajamas and found the silk gown stuffed in on top. Butterflies exploded in my belly as I warred with myself.

Can I wear it for him?

Am I brave enough to share this part of myself with him?

I knew he’d never ridicule me. In fact, he’d seemed to like the idea… So with that in mind, I left my PJ bottoms on, but instead of wearing a T-shirt, I slid the gown on instead. It gave me goose bumps. Oh yes, I could definitely wear it for him.

But it looked ridiculous with the pajama pants on, so I pulled them off and just left my briefs on. I tied the sash off at my waist, and taking a deep breath, I went back to his room. He was pulling back the bed covers and asking me what time I’d told Jordan we were doing laundry tomorrow when he looked up at me and stopped.

And stared.

I stood there in the doorway, wearing nothing but underpants and a flimsy silk gown, feeling equal parts scared and brave.

“Oh wow,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

I held out one arm so he could see how it draped. “It was Mrs Landon’s. She was giving it away, but I was too scared to take it, even though I loved it. She gave it to me as a housewarming gift when I moved out.” I was rambling, nervous. Then I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Do you like it?”

“Love it,” he said, his voice gruff. “You look incredible.” He walked over to me, slowly. He put his fingers to my chin and lifted my face to his. “How does it make you feel?”

“Sexy,” I breathed.

He crushed his lips to mine, and I could feel his half-hard erection against my belly. Oh yes, he liked it. When he broke the kiss, I could see the war in his eyes. He wanted to take me to bed and make me his, I could see it. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

I didn’t feel bad or guilty for that. I felt empowered, encouraged by his self-control. There was intensity in his restraint that made me bolder than I ever thought possible. So I took his hand and led him to bed.

“Uh, Yanni,” he said weakly. He swallowed hard. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

So maybe his restraint wasn’t as herculean as I thought. I probably should have given him a few moments, or maybe I should have opted for the spare room. But I yearned to take care of him. I ached to make him happy.

“Lie down,” I whispered.

Warily, he did as I asked. I crawled on top of him and he rubbed the silk on my arm, making us both moan. God, it felt even better under his hand.

I straddled his hips, rubbing against his erection. He still wore pajama pants. I was still wearing briefs. I was in total control. Peter would never hurt me. I could do this.

I sat up on him so he rubbed the silk across my chest, and I let his cock press against my balls and near my ass, still with our clothes between us.

Then he let his hands slide the silk over my ribs and down to my hips, my thighs, and I ground against him, letting his pajama-clad cock rub against my balls. “Fuck, Yanni,” he groaned.

I leaned down so my mouth was almost touching his. “One day soon, I promise.” Then I lifted my hips and he whined at the loss of contact. “I want to take care of you,” I whispered, kissing him. “With my mouth.”

Peter moaned and a shiver ran through him.

“I don’t know if I can, but I want to try,” I said, shuffling down a bit. “I want to make my Daddy happy.”

Peter’s eyes rolled closed and his dick twitched in his pants. He put his hand to his forehead. “You’re going to kill me.”

Smiling, I pulled the elastic of his sleep pants and briefs down to his balls, freeing his cock completely. God, he was beautiful. He was big and cut; his mushroom head was flushed purple and leaking precome at the tip.

I’d only ever given head before when Lance made me. But sometimes Lance had done it to me when he was trying to apologize for hurting me, trying to counter the pain with pleasure. So I knew how good this could be.

I paused for a moment because I’d just thought of Lance and a memory that wasn’t a particularly good one. But there was still no panic; there was no anxiety, no fear.

This was Peter, and I was in control. I wanted to do this for him. For me.

Confidence, fortified with a deep desire to be a good boy for Daddy, I took his cock into my mouth.

And the pride and satisfaction I felt when he came onto his belly a few minutes later were like nothing I’d ever felt. Peter pulled his shirt off, wiped himself clean, then scooped me into his arms and held me tight. “Are you okay?”

I was so much better than okay. “Yes, Daddy,” I mumbled.

With that, he lifted my chin and kissed me until my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Yes, Daddy was very happy with his boy, indeed.

* * *

On Wednesday, I sat across from Patrice and grinned. “Well, you’ve clearly had a good week,” she observed.

“I have. I passed all my exams with high grades, I helped a stranger get some help through the Acacia Foundation. Lance Nader has been officially charged with five counts of aggravated sexual assault, plus a string of other related offenses, and the sex-while-still-clothed with Peter worked very well.”

Patrice chuckled proudly. “A great week then.”

“The best. I told Peter I loved him.”

Her eyes went wide. “And Peter?”

I laughed, that warm surge filled my chest every time I thought of him. “Oh boy. Just thinking about him makes me fly.”