When I wake up, a delicious soreness overcomes my body in the most pleasurable pain imaginable. All the places I didn't know could hurt so good, ache with a still need to devour.

The thick comforter covering my body isn't enough to keep me warm from the cold, but the muscular arms that wrap me in a tight cocoon are.

Don't ask me how I got here. All I remember are walls against my back, desperate hands gripping my waist, rose petals lips clutching hungrily on to mine.

Xavier buries his face in my neck, and I can feel his soft breaths mingle with the surface of my skin. "How do you feel?" he whispers.

I barely have the words to answer.

He chuckles, something low that comes from the pit of his stomach, and begins to drag a slow finger down the dip of my neck.

"For your first time, damn..." he begins, leaning into my ear. "...that was sex."

I laugh, unable to help the red blush from staining my cheeks.

Still lying awake, I think of that one moment my whole world broke loose. We were entwined with each other; a collection of tangled limbs beneath the sheets before he whispered my name with need, he guided my body with the silkiest touch. He drank me soft like milk and kissed me sweet like honey, and all I did was let him in.

"You're going to leave me after this," I mutter, and in all seriousness the feeling of desire somehow evaporates.

Xavier will still be Xavier, won't he? The lustful boy with zero promises. He might've been my first time, but I can't erase the feeling that he really isn't changeable.

"No. I'll never leave you." Xavier pulls me tighter in a bear hug and tugs me to his broad chest, intertwining his legs with mine.

I manage to inch away from his bare skin. "How can you be so sure?"

Turning my body, I face him and tuck both my hands underneath my head, cushioning myself for comfort. It's still nighttime, and the room is a wondrous pitch black. However, I can still see the admirable glint in Xavier's dark eyes, and I drink them in.

"I'll prove it," he starts, resting his head on his palm. "Anything you wanna ask me, you can ask. I'll answer."

I laugh. Carte Blanche with Xavier-Lawrence Parker? Yes please.

"Fine," I say, unafraid to inch closer to the obnoxious boy. "First question—"

"Go right ahead."

"Was sleeping with me all you had planned?" I ask, a teasing hint to my voice.

He chuckles. "No, I baked a chocolate cake for tonight, and I originally wanted to watch some horror movie with you right after, convince you to cuddle with me."

I snort, an ugly noise that comes from the base of my throat. "Looks like things didn't go as planned."

"Well I still hadn't iced the cake yet, and I knew chocolate cake wouldn't taste as good as you do."

I playfully slap his arm, rolling my eyes and shifting closer to his body. Xavier's arm protectively wraps around my back, cupping my behind tightly.

"Next question," I begin. "Why did you bring me home? From the party?"

"It was kind of ironic, actually," he replies, taking my fiddling hands in his and entwining our tired fingers.

"Why did you do it?"

He giggles, heavenly music to my ears. "Because." he begins. "Because."

"Because?"

"Because I care about you. I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't want to see Logan's hands on you ever again." He shakes his head, like confessing he cares about me is a silly thing to do. "You thought I hated you, but Angel... I was far from it."

The fact that I loathed Xavier for quite some time suddenly feels like a jagged knife to the heart, or a blade of piercing guilt impaling my stomach.

"I'm sorry," I say, fully aware that his boyish charms are making me do some pretty stupid things, like apologizing. "I really am sorry. I'm stupid for hating you."

"Don't be," he says, shrugging off all the times I had lashed out on him. "Don't apologize. And you're not stupid."

"Hm," I mumble. I climb on to his chest so that I'm on the top and he's on the bottom. "How can you be so 'cool' about it?"

He stares at the ceiling focusing all his attention on the darkness up above, and I take the time to memorize the distinctive way his jawline is carved upwards.

"You really want to know?" he asks me, and I can see hints of a nervous smile on his face.

"Obviously."

"Have you fallen hopelessly in love with me yet?"

"Huh?" The question grasps my attention.

"You heard me," he whispers, gently grabbing hold of my hands and entwining his fingers with mine. "Are you so hopelessly, devastatingly in love with me?"

He's trying to make a joke of the phrase, but I know what he's thinking: he hopes I am. He hopes I've fallen in love with him, and he's hoping that he had broken my secluded outer shell, finally getting under my skin.

"What If I told you I was?" I tease.

"Then I would tell you the same thing," he states.

My words are almost caught in my throat.

"Are you in love with me?"

My teeth clench my lower lip in anticipation, and I can feel Xavier's thumb graze my kiss-bitten mouth before finally settling on my chin.

"Flores, I am so hopelessly, devastatingly in love with you."

About a month ago, I never would've believed those words coming from his mouth. He made me angry in the most heinous part of the phrase, and yet it's like that rage and frustration suddenly disappeared into thin air.

Now here I am, sitting on top of him and whispering all the lovely things he wants to hear.

"I'll think about it," I tease, waving a hand his way.

"You're going to think about falling in love with me?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yes."

Xavier laughs, but at the very least of my expectations, his chuckle is warm and welcoming.

"Okay Angel, you think about falling in love with me." He sits up, tipping me backwards and steadying my body with the bulk of his arms. "While I make it up to you."

Instinctively, I push him away, only to grab hold of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. It burns with hunger, desire, and a need to devour, yet it's gentle and delicate and kindling with a blazing fire that only him and I share.

I lodge my fingers in his hair, tasselling it. He grips my waist in a stern hold, and his hands find their way down... down... down...

Before he can go any further, I stop our little make out session and climb over the edge of the bed, combing my fingers through my hair to calm the crazy that has become my evening bed-head.

He's already seen me undressed, yet I try my best and cover myself with my arms while I look around for something to wear.

"Come back to bed," he groans.

I feel his eyes burn holes in my bare back, and I turn around to see his silhouette in the darkness propped up on both elbows. His dark hairdo is in jutted waves; clear proof that I was the one who messed it up.

"I'm getting a shirt," I mumble. "I need to head home, it's getting late."

I hear him giggle, which begs me to come back to bed and climb in next to him.

"Hitting and quitting, Delta Flores?" he teases.

I roll my eyes, but fail to give an answer. I manage to find Xavier's black dress shirt in the darkness while I rummage on the carpet floor, and I lazily put it on and button it the best I can. I'm aware that some parts of the sleeves are ripped; more proof that I had totally messed up his style.

I hear him get up from the bed, and I turn around to see his glorious self, glowing blue and grey in the moonlight seeping from the windows.

I'm not one for sweat, but it currently looks heavenly on him. His skin manages to glisten even in the darkness, which kind of makes me the slightest bit jealous.

"Like what you see?" he asks, and he flashes me those pearly white teeth of his. He then traces a finger from my chest to my chin, tilting my head upwards. "Mmmm, tempting."

I watch as he maneuvers himself around his bed, grabbing the open foil packet on his night stand and bringing it into his ensuite washroom.

It's dark, but where the deep ripples of muscle flex with his every movement shadows cast over his skin, making him look like a terribly gorgeous Da Vinci painting.

I watch Xavier when he tosses the condom wrapper in the trash can, turning to leave when he suddenly spots me hot on his tail.

"Are you following me?" he teases.

"Maybe," I say.

He laughs. "Who would've thought?"

Who would've thought I would be here, wearing Xavier's black dress shirt that I had practically ripped to pieces?

"I have another question for you," I say, daring to walk closer to his dazzling body. "What's this?" I lightly drag my index over the Roman Numeral tattoo on his chest, and it's almost as if I can feel the beating of his heart grow rapid beneath my fingertip.

"You wouldn't understand," he whispers back, shaking his head.

"I would if you told me," I say, and I just have to bite my lip.

To my surprise, his teeth grasp the seems of his mouth so hard that I spot the glisten of red line his lips.

"It's a date," he says, his voice monotone.

"Which means?"

He sighs, one that makes my blood sing and my heart throb with saddening pain.

"This is the day my older brother died," he says, pointing to his chest. "December eighteenth, four years ago."

What do you say to something like that? Nothing? Something?

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't know... I just—I'm sorry I asked."

"It's okay," he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

"How did he...?" I don't even know where I'm trying to get at. I mean, there's no need for me to barge into his business.

"He was in the car with my mum," he says, staring at the the tiled floors of the washroom. "They were coming back from something. Some event."

I step closer to him, but by instinct he backs away.

"They got into an accident, and..." I hear sniffles, sniffles that hold something so lost and so sad inside of them. "...my brother, he didn't make it."

I don't say anything, caressing his body as though he were an abandoned puppy. He doesn't move away, he doesn't protest, and I feel him rest his chin on my head.

"What about your mother?" I ask.

"Apparently, she died too," he says, voice solemn to bitter. "But I don't believe that for a second."

Something inside of me suddenly boils with an anger that I force myself to choke down. This rage, I don't know where it's coming from, but I know it's there.

"She killed him," Xavier growls. "She killed my fucking brother." He starts to cry, a sound that's beautiful yet heartbreaking, which makes the anger in my stomach suddenly race through my veins. "She was the one who drove the car, and she killed him."

This boy is a broken piece of art. A faltering work of fine literature. A wilting rose with more thorns than petals.

Xavier collapses at my feet, and I fall along with him. He's now burying his face in the dress shirt draped over my chest and sobbing into the soft fabric near my stomach. Despite the cold floor tiles sending shivers crawling up my spine, I wrap Xavier tighter in my arms and try to warm him the best I can.

"She hated it when he fought," he grumbles. "He fought all the t-time."

Fought? "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice soft and gentle.

"My brother, h-he used to b-brawl..."

A story is suddenly forming inside that curious mind of mine, and before I know it, the words are spilling from my mouth before I have any chance to stop them.

"What was your brother's name?" I ask, grabbing hold of Xavier's muscled arms as he continues to cry into the fabric of his dress shirt.

"Foster."

N  O  T  E

*cough cough* I, uh... *cough*

I unpublished a pretty explicit chapter I wrote that was supposed to go before this one.
I just cringed so hard when I was trying to edit it, which is why I saved myself the social embarrassment and, y'know...

YEETUS THE FETUS.

If you want to read it, then just *smash* that follow button.

Lmao get it