Waking up next to Paul was weird, but not horrible by any means.

I woke up before him, oddly enough. My reputation for sleeping in failed me. The room was still dark, hints of morning light barely seeping in through the cracks of the balcony shades. It was silent—almost blissfully so.

With consciousness came the usual flood of mixed emotions I'd known all too well for years. The jar of vile feelings that sat sealed in my gut cracked open, as always, at the worst possible time. They were emotions that made me human, and the same ones that always managed to screw me up.

Lying on my side, I watched Paul's face while he slept.

He wasn't a man of many words. Standoffish, blunt, not particularly approachable. Even in his sleep, he looked... abrasive.

His whole body looked like it was waiting for a cigarette. The expression he wore was so blatantly disgruntled, like waking up pissed off was just part of his biological rhythm. And yet, there was a silver lining.

Paul was honest.

His sexuality aside, Paul never hid anything. If he didn't like something, he said so. If he was angry or didn't care, he made that clear. Personally, I found that trait more valuable than charisma or charm. Paul was rough around the edges... but he was real.

"Hm..." My solitude didn't last long. Paul stirred beside me.

He stretched with a grunt, arms above his head. Then, catching me off guard, he rolled over to face me. I swallowed and looked away briefly—then back at him.

"Hi..." My voice came out unsure, far too aware of how weird it felt to wake up in his bed.

"Morning," he answered.

We lay inches apart, naked beneath the sheets. His usual hard expression lingered, but this time... I wasn't scared. Nervous? Yes. Scared? No. For once—not at all.

I didn't know what else to say. Paul didn't seem to mind. He watched me, squinting those dark eyes—pools of black, like a starless sky. I stared back, fascinated.

"You've got dark circles forming," he said, touching my cheekbone lightly with the pad of his finger.

I laughed nervously, his finger still resting on my face. "Well, that's just great. Maybe I'll start growing gray hairs too."

"You'd still be you."

I blinked at him, not quite getting what he meant. He just shrugged.

"You're stressed. It's messing with your sleep."

He wasn't wrong. I had a habit of oversleeping, yet still never felt rested. I cleared my throat, not sure what to do with myself. I felt horribly awkward—and that bothered me.

Paul leaned in and kissed the rise of my cheekbone before sitting up to grab his smokes. I stared, stunned.

"I'll be back in a minute." He slid on his pajama bottoms and headed out to the balcony, giving me an accidental view of his pert, beige ass. The door slid open and he stepped outside.

"...Time to get up, I guess."

I still had time to shower and get ready. I'd promised Gary I'd help him... I didn't want to. Not at all. I shoved that thought to the back of my mind, forcing down the emotion building up again. I didn't want to puke my heart out in Paul's lap first thing in the morning.

In the bathroom, I let cold water pour over me before adjusting the temperature. Soap in hand, I scrubbed myself down. After sex with Gary, I always rushed to clean up as fast as possible. The chemical high never lasted long enough to erase the disgust.

But... Paul's touch didn't leave me feeling dirty.

For once, I actually felt clean. That thought alone felt dangerous.

Wrapped in a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom, not caring that Paul might see me naked. He'd already seen it all. He was back in bed, sitting up against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other. I went straight to the dresser for clothes.

"Your dex rang while you were in the shower," he said calmly.

I froze, clothes in hand.

Of course he checked the ID. I didn't even need to ask who called. I nodded silently and turned my back to him as I dried off.

"Should I tell him to lose your number?" Paul offered. "And to fuck off?"

"That's not necessary..."

Paul scoffed. The silence returned, thick and heavy. I dried my hair as best I could, but all I could think about was the chaos that would explode if Paul and Gary ever crossed paths.

"You're getting ready to go see him, aren't you?" Paul asked, dry and accusing.

"I..."

I stared at the floor.

"I don't want to... but I promised."

His footsteps padded across the floor. Then he was right behind me.

"Did Gary ever make you any promises, Ash?"

(Flashback)

"You know you're being stupid, right?"

Gary sat on the windowsill, fingers clenched, looking out at his grandfather's land. My own hands trembled as I stood behind him. His back was rigid, from his neck all the way down.

The room around us was neat. Bookshelves perfectly aligned, his desk spotless. A single book lay open, a chair pulled out but unused. Gary sat there, not even looking at me.

"I'm not stupid, Gary..."

"Yes, you are."

His head snapped toward me. His green eyes were ablaze, though his sculpted face remained collected.

"You're fucking stupid," he snapped. "Don't stand there and tell me otherwise."

I bit my inner lip to stop the tears. Looked away. Looked back—at his clenched fist. It only pissed him off more.

"I have the right to say no," I told him. "I'm not obligated to say yes. That's not how this works."

"Only a dumbass would say no to me," he scoffed. "Clearly, you must be stupid."

I had no words. Not then.

"Just get out," he spat. "But this doesn't end here. I promise you that much, Ash."

(End Flashback)

"Gary made promises," I said softly.

"That a fact?"

Paul's voice was unimpressed, but not mocking. Still, I felt goosebumps ripple across my skin.

"Yeah. He made me promises." My voice shook.

I could feel Paul's presence behind me. It wasn't threatening. It was warm. Comforting.

"You don't owe him anything."

"I made a promise..." I whispered. "A promise is a promise, right? Gary—"

My voice cracked. Paul placed his hands gently on my arms. I gripped the towel tighter against my chest and felt myself crumbling.

"Stay here. With me. You don't need to put yourself through this shit."

I shook my head, but Paul turned me to face him anyway. I flushed with embarrassment at being naked again. I was vulnerable—too much so.

"You did a horrible job drying off." He plucked the towel from my hands and started drying my shoulders. A dry chuckle escaped me as I blinked back tears.

"I'm stupid," I whispered.

"No, you're not."

I shook my head harder. "Yes, I am. Both you and Gary said so. I'm not that smart—"

Paul exhaled roughly, clearly remembering all the things he'd said to me in anger.

"Don't take what I say when I'm pissed to heart," he muttered. "I'm not the best with words. I'm not real charismatic... Charisma's for psychopaths."

"Huh?"

"Charisma is for psychopaths," he repeated. "Don't expect that shit from me."

He helped me dress, pulling a T-shirt over my head. I added boxers. Then Paul gave Gary the boot from my day—mentally and physically.

I didn't show up at the reserve like I promised. Paul approved. Gary, predictably, did not.

When Paul left to grab breakfast, Gary called my dex repeatedly. By the time Paul came back with food, I was sitting on his bed, my dex sitting—ignored—on mine.

Paul saw the tension. "He can't jump out of the dex, Ash," he said flatly. "Just turn it off."

I shook my head. "Nope. That's one way to really piss off Gary."

"This douche really has you whipped, huh?"

"He may or may not know I'm staying here..."

Paul picked up my dex, glared at it, and shut it off. "He shows up here, his ass is done for. Now come eat."

"Yeah... charisma really isn't your thing."

"Never has been. C'mon. While it's still hot."

The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of desire and anticipation. As we lay there in the afterglow of our passionate encounter, the silence was a gentle caress upon our ears. Paul's chest rose and fell steadily beneath my cheek, his warmth enveloping me like a cozy blanket on a chilly evening. I could feel his heart beating in sync with mine, a silent testament to the connection that had just been forged between us. I couldn't help but trace my fingers along the contours of his body, exploring the planes of muscles and the dips of his torso. His skin was like velvet, smooth and inviting. Each stroke sent a shiver down his spine, and he tightened his grip around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. His scent was intoxicating, a blend of fresh laundry and something uniquely his, something that I could now identify as the smell of home.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment, the unspoken conversation between us more profound than any words could convey. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that I hadn't seen before, a softness that contrasted sharply with his usual steely demeanor. It was as if, in that moment, he had let down his guard and allowed me a glimpse into the depths of his soul. I felt my own body respond to his touch, my cock stirring with renewed interest. It was clear that our encounter wasn't over just yet. Without a word, Paul rolled over onto his side, facing me. His hand reached out to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my bottom lip. The gesture was tender, almost loving, and it made my stomach flutter with butterflies. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and captured my mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as it was gentle. His tongue danced with mine, exploring the cavern of my mouth with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying. I moaned into the kiss, my hand sliding down to grasp his erection, which was already standing tall and proud.

Paul's hand mirrored my own, finding my own needy member and beginning to stroke it in time with the rhythm of our kiss. Our movements grew more urgent, our breathing ragged and erratic. The sound of our kisses filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to echo off the walls. As our kisses grew deeper, my hand strayed from his cock to the small of his back, urging him closer. He took the hint, his body pressing against mine as we rolled over, my back now to the bed. He hovered above me, his muscular frame a stark contrast to my leaner form.

"You're so beautiful, Ash." He murmured against my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin. "So, so beautiful." The words sent a bolt of electricity through me, and I arched my back, pushing my body against his. He chuckled, the vibration tickling my skin, before capturing my mouth in another searing kiss. Suddenly, the phone on the nightstand rang out, breaking the spell. We both froze, the sound jolting us out of our passionate haze. The ringtone was unmistakable—it was that persistent, obnoxious melody that had become all too familiar.

Paul's expression darkened, and he pulled away from me. "Don't answer it." He warned, his voice low and gruff. "It's just him."

I nodded, my hand still wrapped around his cock, not ready to let go just yet. "I won't," I promised, my voice barely a whisper. The ringing stopped, but the silence that followed was deafening. It was a stark reminder of the world outside our little bubble, the one where reality waited to intrude with its harsh truths and unwelcome demands. Paul's eyes searched mine, as if looking for reassurance that I was still with him, that I hadn't disappeared in the wake of the disturbance. And in that moment, I knew that I would do anything to protect this newfound intimacy between us.

"Let's ignore it," I suggested, my hand moving to the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down over his hips. "It can wait."

Paul's eyes searched my face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. He must have found what he was looking for because his own hand joined mine, helping me free him from the confines of his clothing. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and I couldn't resist leaning in to kiss the tip.

"Ash..." He groaned, his hand moving to the back of my head to guide me. "Suck it."

The demand was rough, but the need in his voice was undeniable. I complied eagerly, taking him into my mouth and suckling gently. His hands tightened in my hair as I took him deeper, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I worked him. His hips rocked in response, and the sound of his breathing grew louder. As I worked him over, I felt his hand move down to my own cock, stroking me in time with the bobbing of my head. It wasn't long before we were both lost in the sensations, our bodies moving together in a dance of lust and want.

"I want you to fuck me." I mumbled around his cock, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

Paul's pupils dilated at my words, his strokes on my cock becoming more urgent. He pulled away from me, standing up to grab the lube from the nightstand. He didn't bother with the cap, just squirted a generous amount onto his palm before turning to me. He coated his cock with the slick substance, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had me panting for more. Then he climbed back onto the bed, pushing my legs apart and positioning himself at my entrance. Without a word, he pushed in, and I gasped at the feeling of being filled by him once again. He was so much bigger than me, so much more powerful, and yet he took me with such care. Each inch was a sweet torture, a promise of the pleasure to come.

As he began to move, I couldn't help but moan his name. "Paul...oh, Paul..."

He leaned down to kiss me, his thrusts deep and measured. Our bodies were slick with sweat, our limbs tangled together as we moved as one. The friction between us was exquisite, sending sparks of pleasure through my body with every stroke. Our kisses grew more heated, our breaths mingling as we raced towards climax. I felt my cock swell in his hand, the tension building in my balls. His own need was clear, his movements growing more erratic, his breath hitching in his throat.

"I'm gonna cum..." I gasped, my hips bucking up to meet him.

"Do it, Ash. Cum for me." He growled, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.

The world exploded into a shower of stars as I did just that, my release spurting over his hand and chest. The sight of him, watching me with such intensity, sent him over the edge, and he followed me into oblivion with a shout, his cock pulsing inside me. We lay there for a moment, panting and spent, before he pulled out and collapsed beside me. He reached out, wiping the cum off my chest with a gentle hand. "I've got you." He murmured, pulling me close. "It's just us now." The words sent a warmth through me that had nothing to do with the afterglow of sex. It was a promise, a declaration, and it was everything I needed to hear. We drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the world and its troubles temporarily forgotten. For now, there was just us—our bodies entwined, our hearts beating together in a rhythm that was all our own. And as the night deepened, the ringing of the phone grew distant, a mere echo of a life that no longer had a hold on me.

When I awoke the next morning, the light from the window painted a soft glow across Paul's face. He was still asleep, his features relaxed and peaceful. I couldn't resist leaning in to kiss him gently on the cheek. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by a soft smile.

"Morning, Daddy," I murmured, testing the waters with the new term of endearment that had been swirling in my thoughts.

Paul's smile grew, and he leaned in to capture my mouth in a lazy kiss. "Good morning, baby," he said, his voice a gruff whisper. It was the first time I'd called him that, and the words sent a thrill down my spine. It was a declaration of submission, of trust, and it felt surprisingly right.

As we began to stir, the desire between us grew, our bodies reacting instinctively to the closeness. Paul's hand drifted down my body, cupping my ass and giving it a firm squeeze. "You're insatiable, aren't you?" He said, his voice filled with a teasing lilt.

I grinned, feeling a boldness that was new to me. "Only for you, Daddy." The kinky turn our relationship had taken was like a door opening to a new world of pleasure. Paul took charge, his commands and the way he used the word "daddy" turning me on in ways I hadn't anticipated. He had me on all fours again, my ass in the air as he teased my entrance with the tip of his cock.

"Beg for it, baby. Tell Daddy how much you want it." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"Oh, Daddy, please... I need it... I need you to fuck me hard... fill me up." I begged, the words spilling from my lips without thought.

He didn't make me wait long. With a swift thrust, he was inside me, filling me completely. The sensation was intense, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had me moaning loudly. Paul's hand found my cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. He knew exactly how to touch me, how to make me crave more. His grip tightened as I grew closer to the edge, pushing me further into the abyss of desire.

"You're going to cum for Daddy, aren't you, baby?" He said, his voice thick with lust.

I nodded, unable to form words.

"Say it. Say you're going to cum for Daddy."

"I'm going to cum for you, Daddy," I moaned, the words falling from my lips like a sweet confession. It didn't take much longer. With a final, powerful thrust, I felt him fill me up with his hot seed, and I followed suit, my own release spilling over his hand. We collapsed together, our bodies sticky and spent.

In the days that followed, our relationship grew more intimate, more raw. We explored new depths of passion, pushing each other's boundaries in the most exhilarating ways. The power dynamics shifted, and we found ourselves in a place of pure, unbridled desire. Paul was no longer just my roommate, but my protector, my lover, my Daddy. And as for me, I reveled in the role of his baby boy, eager to please him in every way imaginable. We'd discovered a connection that went beyond the physical, something that made my heart race and my soul sing. Our days were filled with stolen moments of lust—quickies in the shower, playful spankings in the kitchen, and late-night sessions of raw, animalistic passion. And with each encounter, I grew more and more addicted to the way he made me feel.

Gary's calls grew less frequent, and eventually, they stopped altogether. The fear of his return faded, replaced by the warmth of Paul's embrace. And in those moments, as we lay tangled together in the aftermath of our love-making, I knew that I'd found something special, something that could never be replicated.

Paul had become my everything, and I knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together. Paul followed my example before getting back under the sheets with me. When resituating, I didn't resume my spot on Paul's arm. I wanted to, I really did. I was obsessed with how warm he felt.

Paul only looked cold. Gary wasn't a cuddler, but I doubted Paul was either. He didn't look like a cuddly type of guy.

"You can come back over here."

"Hm?" I responded, startled like he'd read my thoughts.

"There's like a foot of space between us, you can come back over here."

I blinked, truly shocked. I averted my eyes away, bringing them back to Paul.

"You sure?" I asked him, hesitantly. "Gary didn't really like when I cuddled him. If you don't want to—"

"Wow. Ash, so help me if I ever meet him, I'll kick his ass. Come here."

I didn't hesitate this time. I scooted across the bed and into the space Paul had silently left open just for me. Nestled against his side, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My head found the familiar warmth of his bicep again, and this time, I didn't let myself pull away. Paul's arm came around me naturally, resting with just enough weight to feel protective. It didn't feel awkward or unsure—it felt like he'd done this before. Or maybe he hadn't, but he was still trying. For me.

For the first time in a long time, I let myself believe this—whatever this was—might not be fleeting. That maybe warmth and softness and safety weren't just things I gave away. Maybe, with Paul, I could keep a little for myself.

I closed my eyes and let the thought linger.

Maybe I wasn't so wrong for wanting him.

Maybe... just maybe... he wanted me too.

Meanwhile, Paul thought, 'I'm not going to be like him. You deserve to be held, even if I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You want warm? Fine. Be warm here. Just stop flinching like I'm going to disappear.'

He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. It surprised even him. And when I finally curled against him, tracing aimless shapes across his chest like the contact wasn't a desperate search for safety, Paul let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

'What the hell are we doing?'

But he didn't pull away.

He wasn't planning to.