The following chapter contains explicit material intended for an 18+ audience ONLY.

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I wipe the fog off the bathroom mirror and glance at my freshly showered reflection. Mickey and I are staying in a quirky hotel a few blocks from the hospital. It's a nice little suite with a kitchen and desk, but the heater in our room is broken. It's stuck on full blast, and leaves us sweaty messes every time we decide to go at it. I couldn't tell him no. There is no way I could deny him the one thing that pulls his mind away from everything going on.

I quickly pull on some panties and shrug on Mickey's button down shirt. I walk out into the room and find Mickey sitting in nothing but his boxer briefs and glasses, staring at his laptop.

"Hey, come look at this," he says. The bed creaks as I crawl onto it. I sit on my heels next to him, and rest my chin on his shoulder. He tilts the screen towards me. "It's just a rough cut, but you can see the way it will look."

It's the heated scene with the main character and her husband. The shot is dark, and crisp, the low lighting pleasing against her tear-stained face. Their lines are flawless, seamless, so emotional, all without editing. "That's just a rough cut? That looks good. Really good."

"It does." He looks at me over his shoulder and his mouth twists into a grin. He closes the laptop as he leans towards me. His lips take mine seductively, and my breathing shallows. When he teases my tongue slowly with his, I know he wants more.

His hands run smoothly up my sides as he lifts my shirt and removes it over my head. He lies me back, his lips trail slowly down my neck and over the peak of my breast. His tongue slowly circles my nipple. He sucks it into his warm mouth and my back arches towards him in response. His hand cups my breast as he continues to suck the hardened tip. He looks into my eyes as he lets it leave his lips. I shiver when the air feeling so cold compared to the recent warmth of his mouth.

He leans up and kisses me again as he reaches down into my panties. His fingers find me still wet from before, and they slide in easily. He hums happily against my lips. He leans away, rolls me quickly to my stomach, and then strips my panties from me quickly.

He presses a hand against the nape of my neck, pinning me face down on the ugly sheets. My body quivers as I wait, my pussy aching painfully to feel him inside me. My breath hitches when I feel him push into me. He slides in slowly, stretching me, filling me. I moan when his hips come to a rest against my ass.

He presses his other hand against my lower back, adding delicious pressure as he starts to move. He moves slow for a moment, then wastes no time picking up to a vigorous pace. My hands grip the sheets tightly as I hold on.

"Yes!" I love it like this, feeling so powerless underneath him.

The shitty bed squeaks loudly and the headboard bangs against the wall with every one of his thrusts, mixing with our moans and undoubtedly pissing off the neighbors.

Every downward pump of his hips slides him against my g-spot, sending wave after wave of intense pleasure through me. My body begins to tense quickly, and I know I'm close. "Don't stop! Please, don't stop!" I beg him.

"I won't," he pants, and I clench excitedly.

My legs move together and curl up, making me squeeze even tighter around him. I look back at him and watch his incredible body moving atop me as he thrusts, looking so intent on fucking me. When I catch his eyes and see his face twist with his own pleasure, I lose myself.

I nearly scream as I come, by body tensing hard as I'm forced to stay still under his grasp, only my pussy moves, clenching and releasing around him as the pleasure courses through me. Mickey continues his relentless pace, intensifying the feeling. He stops abruptly with a growl and I feel him twitch inside me, his fingers gripping the skin of my neck and back. Only then does my climax begin to fade.

Mickey eases in and out of me slowly as he comes down from his orgasm. His fingers trail slowly from my neck down my spine as he leans up. My skin prickles under his delicate touch. He withdraws and collapses to his back beside me. He runs his fingers through his hair as he pants, the sweat glistening over every inch of his smooth, perfect skin.

As he removes the condom, I roll towards him and press myself to his side. I kiss his neck slowly in thanks, caressing his salty skin with my tongue and lips until he hums happily.

I lean away and look at him, but all I see are the perfect features of his face marred by the lines of stress that won't seem to go away. It feels like nothing I do can help him. I go cold.

"Are you okay, baby?" I ask him. "I know that being here is stressful, especially with everything else going on."

"Yeah," he agrees. He takes his glasses off, sets them on the bed and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I don't think I've ever been this stressed out in my life. Just one more little thing and," his voice waivers, "I feel like I'm going to fucking break." He covers his eyes with a hand and his mouth tenses as if he is going to cry.

My body explodes with nerves. "Hey, hey," I roll over onto his chest and grip his arm. He lets his hand fall from his face and he looks at me with a broken expression. "Think of all the good things happening right now. Your mom is doing well, the pilot is looking amazing and is still on schedule," I remind him.

His brow relaxes slightly as he continues to look at me, as if he expects me to give him more reasons. I know I should listen to Maggie and tell him what happened, but with all the stress he's under right now, I know I'm better off waiting.

"Just two more days and your mom will be home," I continue, "and we'll get to go back to our sunshine and schedules."

"Yeah," he says with a weary smile. "Just two more days. I'll be fine." He brushes a hand over my hair. "How are you holding up?" he asks.

"Me?"

He nods and runs the back of his fingers across my cheek. "I know this must be hard for you too. You lost your dad like this, didn't you?"

My nerves calm to a painful numbness. "In a car accident, yeah," I admit. "But it was nothing like this."

"You've seemed stressed even before we came here," he says. "Is something else going on?"

I move to lie on my stomach beside him and try to hide the fear from my face. This isn't the best time to talk about it, but I know I can't continue to hide everything from him. "Vick and Jerry called my mom," I say bluntly.

He gives me a confused look. "Who are Vick and Jerry?"

"Emilio's parents." I gnaw my bottom lip as I fight back the emotions.

Mickey stares at me for a moment then nods his head. "Oh ... Is something going on with him?"

I feel my brow tense. A lump builds painfully in my throat. "He's turning ten."

Mickey looks even more confused. "Why does that matter?"

My mind goes back to that day. The longing I felt as I watched Vick press the tiny baby to his chest, the way he and Jerry cried happy tears together as they looked upon the baby I hadn't wanted. The guilt covers my skin in a painful ache. "Things were a little ... complicated when he was born. We decided to be semi-open and touch base again when he was ten." I want to roll my eyes at myself. "In my teenage mind, I thought giving myself ten years would be enough time to become some awesome adult with all my shit figured out. But ... I'm not really feeling that way."

His brow creases. "Is that my fault?"

"No. This is all me," I assure him. "Having a mom that shows up to imply I'm a shit mother for wanting to live my life and doing what I thought was best for him ..." I trail off, realizing the additional implications. I swallow past the lump in my throat. "... Really isn't helpful right now," I admit. Tears start to blur my vision, but I take in a shaky breath to fight them off.

"No, she's the shit mother. And she's a cunt," he says matter-of-factly.

A laugh bursts from my mouth before I can catch myself. I cover my new smile with a hand as I silence my chuckle. "I love you so much," I tell him as I wipe my eyes.

"I know," he grins at me. "But it's completely true. She's the only person I've met that makes my dad seem ... tolerable."

I look over at him. "What's so bad about your dad? He defended you when he showed up, but ... you had a very strong reaction when you saw him."

"All that shit's in the past now, it doesn't matter -- it never mattered." Mickey's mouth twists, and he averts my gaze. "I've moved on."

"It doesn't seem like you have," I tell him. I rub my hand against his tattoo, and remember his mom's text message. "What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything to me," he sighs heavily. "He just didn't want me." My chest aches for him, but I'm not sure what he means.

"Your brothers are quite a bit older than you aren't they? Were you a surprise?"

"No. Mom always wanted four kids -- one for each hand. I was completely on purpose. Beth was the surprise."

"And you two are very close in age, right?"

"Yeah. Eleven months."

I feel more confused. "So it's just because you do porn?"

"No, it's not. But that definitely made things worse."

"How did they find out?"

"The same way everyone does. They watched it."

I cringe. "Oh. Fuck. Ew!"

Mickey chuckles. "Yeah, that was a fun conversation to have with family," he says sarcastically.

I shudder. "So why is Joey the one that has such a problem with you?"

"He was the one that found out I did gay scenes – don't ask me how." Mickey runs a hand over his face in exasperation. "He told everyone I was gay, and when I insisted I wasn't, he started calling me slurs and implying I was somehow less of a man because of what I did. So, I proved him right by fucking his wife."

I stifle another laugh because that's supposed to be bad and I'm an upstanding citizen. "What?"

"Before she was his wife," he explains. "They had just started dating, but she told me she wanted to try me out. I might have to live with him hating me, but he has to live knowing I fucked her better than he did," he says.

"Mickey!" I scold him, but I can't stop from laughing.

"What can I say? I'm a dirty, vindictive whore."

"Jesus," I say, still laughing. "Is that why they gave you that awful nickname?"

Now he's the one that cringes. "Sadly, no. That was my mom."

"Where does it come from?"

"My dad's name is Richard. People always called him Dickey, so she called me Little Dickey." I try to hard not to laugh, but it escapes through my nose. He looks at me sideways. "What?"

I try so hard to contain myself, I feel like I can't breathe. "So you're ... Little Dickey and ... your dad is ... Big Dickey?" I manage to wheeze through my laughter.

He smiles sheepishly. "Yeah," he concedes.

I squeal, and then start cracking up. "Oh my fucking god!"

Mickey gives into his own laughter, covering his face with a hand as his body shakes. We both laugh until we're in tears. My abs and cheeks burn as I try to stop, but it feels so good.

I dry my eyes as we finally calm ourselves. I look over at him, barely able to contain my smile at the sight of his own carefree one.

He looks into my eyes. "Thank you for being here with me," he says quietly.

"Where else would I be?" I ask him. I run my hand down his arm and take his hand. He laces his fingers through mine and grips it tight.

"California. Santorini," he says. "Somewhere with someone who has less family drama."

"Mickey," I sigh as I roll to face him. "I know that families really suck sometimes. But I also know I would do anything to be able to tell my dad I love him one more time," I say. My brow creases, but I hold onto my smile. "When I tell you that it's not worth the fight ... I mean it. Either try to make peace or let them go. For yourself, if no one else. The in-between is what will kill you."

His eyes flicker away from mine briefly. He pulls me closer to him and kisses my lips gently. I let go of his hand pull him closer to me, wanting to forget about my stress, and more importantly, the reasons for it. As if he can read my thoughts, his kisses become more passionate.

He rolls me to my back, our mouths never separating. He lies atop me, nudging my leg up with his to wrap around his waist. His lips leave mine, and he leans up to look down at me. "Do you love me?" he asks. "No matter what?"

I brush the hair from his face, letting my hands rest against his cheeks. "Of course I do."

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A/N: Don't forget to vote, comment, and add to your library if you want more!