The second day dawned much like the first—soft sunlight seeping through the half-drawn blinds, the apartment quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside their college town. Jack woke slowly, his body attuned to Felix's every shift. His boyfriend was still glued to him, small frame draped over Jack's chest like a living bnket, long blond hair tickling Jack's arm. Felix's breathing was deep and even, his freckled face peaceful in sleep, but there was a subtle difference today: his hips were pressed a little closer, one leg hooked higher over Jack's thigh, grinding faintly even in his dreams, as if seeking something deeper.

  Jack didn't move, content to watch. It had been two days since the rescue, and Felix's refusal to leave the bed had become their new normal—a sanctuary of tangled limbs and whispered reassurances. The bruises on Felix's thighs were fading slightly under the cream Jack applied religiously, the stitches holding firm per Alex's check-ins from the doorway. Their friends had been saints, handling errands, meals, and police updates without pushing too hard. But Jack could feel the weight of it all pressing in; the outside world waited, and Felix's trauma lingered like a shadow. He'd noticed the subtle changes in Felix too—the way his body seemed wired for more, the hypersexuality creeping in as a twisted aftermath of the repeated assaults. It made Jack's protective instincts fre; he wanted to give Felix everything, but not at the cost of more pain.

  Around 9 AM, Felix stirred, big brown eyes blinking open. He stretched nguidly—or tried to, wincing at the pull on his sore muscles. But instead of settling, he shifted immediately, hips rolling against Jack's in a deliberate press. "Jack..." His voice was husky, ced with urgency, those big eyes darkening with need as he looked up. "Fuck, I need you. Inside me. Now."

  Jack's breath caught, his cock twitching involuntarily at the raw desperation in Felix's tone. But he froze, hand coming up to cup Felix's freckled cheek. "Baby... slow down. What's got you like this?"

  Felix whimpered, already tugging at Jack's boxers, his small hands insistent. "It's... them. They fucked me so much, so many times, and now my body's screaming for it. But not them—you. Your cock. In my ass. It's the only thing that feels good, Jack. You know that—I've never liked anyone touching my dick. It does nothing for me. Please? I need to feel full, stretched... make it yours again."

  Jack's heart twisted painfully. He knew Felix's preferences intimately; their sex life had always revolved around Felix's ass—rimming, fingers, Jack's cock filling him deep and slow, hitting that spot that made Felix's bratty confidence shatter into moans. Handjobs or blowjobs on Felix's cock had always been met with polite deflection; it just wasn't his thing. But now, post-trauma, that singur pleasure point had been hijacked, amplified into this desperate craving. "Felix, love... I want to. God, you have no idea. But Alex was crystal clear—no strain on your ass. Stitches could tear, infection risk... it could hurt you bad. We can't. Not yet."

  Felix's face crumpled, then fshed with that quick-to-anger fire, his big brown eyes narrowing in frustration. "But it aches, Jack! Empty, throbbing— I need it! Just a little? Or your fingers? Something!" He ground down harder, his own cock half-hard but ignored, the real heat coming from the desperate rock of his hips. Tears pricked his eyes, vulnerability cracking through the bratty demand. "Please... make me forget them. Fuck the bad out."

  Jack pulled him closer, kissing his forehead firmly, though his body betrayed him with a growing erection. "Shh, baby. I hear you. And yeah, I'd love nothing more than to pin you down and give you exactly what you need. But not like this—not when it could rip you open again. Let's do other things. My mouth on you, grinding... I'll make you come without touching your dick, I promise. Just trust me."

  Felix pouted, shoving at Jack's chest half-heartedly, his caring side peeking through in the way he clung even as he fumed. "You're such a bully. Teasing me like this." But he relented slightly, nodding with a huff. Jack shifted them carefully, ying Felix on his side to avoid pressure on his lower back, and trailed kisses down his neck, over freckled shoulders. He slipped a hand between Felix's thighs from behind, fingers circling the sensitive skin around his hole—teasing the rim without pressing in, slicking it lightly with lube from the nightstand.

  "Oh... fuck, yes," Felix moaned, arching back into the touch, his body trembling. Jack's other hand roamed his chest, pinching nipples, while he ground his hard cock against Felix's thigh for friction. But Felix's desperation built fast—whining, pushing back insistently. "More, Jack—inside! Just the tip?"

  "No, brat," Jack growled softly, nipping his ear. "Be good for me." He sped up the external circles, pressing just enough to stimute without penetrating, and Felix shattered quickly—coming with a frustrated cry, body clenching around nothing, tears of unmet need streaking his cheeks. Jack followed soon after, spilling against Felix's skin, but the afterglow was tense; Felix curled into him, still needy, hand reaching back to paw at Jack's hip. "Not enough... still want you in me."

  The morning stretched into awkward intimacy. When Mia knocked with breakfast—eggs, toast, juice—Felix didn't hide, but his voice was sharp. "Bring it in, but make it quick. And tell Alex his stupid rules suck." Mia raised an eyebrow but complied, setting the tray down with a knowing smile. "Heard that. Eat up—strength for healing."

  Alone again, Felix picked at his food, propped against Jack, but his free hand kept wandering, trying to guide Jack's fingers lower. "Later? Promise you'll think about it?" Jack fed him bites, distracting with kisses, but the desperation simmered. They handled the police call from bed, Felix's voice steadier on details but clipped, his thigh pressing against Jack's under the sheets the whole time.

  Lunch arrived—sandwiches, easy to eat in their cocoon. Felix was bolder now, straddling Jack's p carefully (pillows propping to spare his ass), grinding down with single-minded focus. "Feel how wet I am back there? For you." He reached back, spreading himself teasingly, the stitched hole still tender but begging. Jack groaned, hands on Felix's hips to control the pace, but refused entry. "Grind on my cock instead—outside, baby. Like this." He guided Felix to slide along his length, the friction hot but shallow. Felix rode it desperately, moaning, but frustration boiled over. "It's not the same! I need you deep—stretching me, owning me!" He came again, shuddering, but colpsed pouting, angry tears falling. "Why won't you? Afraid I'll break?"

  Jack held him tight, wiping his face. "No, love. Afraid I'll hurt you worse. Alex said no strain—meaning nothing inside for at least a week. But I want you so bad it hurts. We'll get there." Felix sniffled, bratty fire dimming to vulnerability. "Feels like I'm going crazy. Like my ass is the only part of me that's alive right now."

  Afternoon deepened the ache. They dozed fitfully, Felix waking every half-hour to whine and grind, his hands everywhere—stroking Jack to hardness, then trying to position him. "Just fuck me slow? I can take it." Jack distracted with oral—his mouth on Felix's thighs, kissing bruises away, tongue flicking close to but not at the forbidden spot. Felix writhed, hands fisting Jack's bck hair, demanding more. "Lick me there—please, Jack! Rim me!" Jack did, carefully, ft tongue soothing the outer edges, drawing desperate sobs from Felix. "Closer... oh God, yes—but I need more!" He came untouched this time, body convulsing, but the desperation only grew, leaving him clingy and tearful.

  By evening, as the sun set, Felix's pleas turned raw. During dinner—pasta delivered with minimal fuss— he barely ate, too focused on Jack's p, rocking subtly. "Jack... I'm begging. It hurts not having you. They took that from me, but you can give it back." His big brown eyes were pleading, freckled cheeks flushed, confidence shattered into pure need. Jack's resolve wavered—he was rock-hard, aching to bury himself in Felix's heat—but the memory of those stitches held him back. "Baby, I can't risk it. But tomorrow, we ask Alex again? If it's healing..."

  Felix nodded reluctantly, but his hand slipped under the sheets, fingering himself shallowly right there, eyes locked on Jack's. "Watch? See how bad I need it?" Jack's breath hitched, stroking himself in response, their mutual masturbation tense and heated—Felix's fingers circling his own rim, Jack's fist pumping. "Come for me, love," Jack urged, and they did, gazes intense, but Felix's orgasm left him unsatisfied, curling into Jack with a sob. "Hate this... want you so much."

  Night fell with Felix even more desperate, refusing to sleep without one st tease—Jack's fingers pressing just at the entrance, not entering, until Felix begged incoherently. "Please... fuck, Jack, do it!" But Jack pulled back, kissing him deeply instead. "Soon, brat. I promise." As sleep finally cimed Felix, his body twitching with unmet want, Jack held him, worry gnawing. This fire was consuming Felix—reciming his pleasure point, but at what cost? Therapy tomorrow might help, but tonight, the desperation hung heavy, a powder keg in their fragile haven. How long before Jack gave in, or Felix broke?