Chapter Tweleve: Safe Place

Steam curled softly in the bathroom, wrapping us in warmth.

Phu stood under the pounding water, his back to me, shoulders tense, a stark contrast to the usual relaxed curve I knew so well. The shower stall, usually filled with his boisterous singing and playful splashes, was silent, heavy with unspoken emotion.

I stepped in behind him, the warm water instantly soaking my clothes. Slowly, tentatively, I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his damp back. His muscles were coiled, tight as a spring.

He didn't move, but he didn't pull away either. That was enough.

For a while, we just stood there, letting the water wash over us, a cleansing rain against our skin. No words. Just presence. The rhythmic drumming of the water on the tile was the only sound, a steady heartbeat in the sudden quiet of our world.

I could feel the weight he carried—whatever had happened had shaken him, more than he was willing to admit. Phu was usually a beacon of strength, a vibrant soul who faced the world with a grin and unwavering optimism. To see him like this, his light dimmed, was a silent ache in my chest.

"You don't have to say anything," I whispered, my voice muffled against his back. "Just know I'm here."

He turned slowly to face me, his eyes shadowed by the dim light and the veil of water. He wasn't crying, though the possibility hung heavy in the air.

There was just… pain. Quiet, buried deep, the kind that settled in the bones and left you hollow. I wanted to reach inside, to pull it out and hold it for him, but I knew all I could offer was my unwavering support, a safe harbor in his storm.

Then he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against mine. His skin was cool against my heated face, the water slick between us.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, his voice rough with emotion. "For not asking too much. For being here."

I reached up and gently brushed his wet hair back from his forehead, smoothing the strands with my fingers.

"Always."

Phu looked at me, his eyes searching, questioning. The pain hadn't vanished, but something else was flickering beneath the surface – a spark of trust, of vulnerability. He reached a hand up, cupping my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. He'd always been a man of touch, a man who expressed his feelings through physical affection. Today, it felt different, more profound.

He decided to kiss me on the lips. He hadn't kissed me like this, with such raw intensity, in quite some time. It was desperate, needy, a plea for connection. I let him lead, responding to his urgency, mirroring his need. This wasn't a gentle, loving kiss; it was a claiming, a desperate attempt to find solace in each other.

Phu pushed me back against the cool, tiled wall, deepening the kiss, his body pressed against mine. Five minutes blurred into a lifetime, the water cascading around us, washing away some of the tension, some of the pain. When he finally broke away, breathless, his eyes were dark with desire, tinged with a lingering sadness.

"I don't think I can be gentle today," he murmured, his voice thick with pent-up emotion.

I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability, the underlying ache, and the desperate need for release. My heart ached for him, but I knew he needed this, whatever this was going to be.

"Okay, baby," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "Whatever you want. I'm ready for you."

Tonight, something felt different. Phu's touches were more deliberate, his lips more insistent.

As Phu's fingers trailed down my body, I felt a mixture of excitement and fear. I knew what was coming, and while a part of me was prepared for it, another part of me was startled. I had never been with anybody like Phu, and I wasn't at all sure what to anticipate.

But despite my fears, I couldn't bring myself to stop him. I felt the weight of his emotions—heavy, aching. The intensity of his need wrapped around me like a storm, and in that moment, I knew: I was the only one he trusted enough to hold that darkness with him.

So I let him continue. I surrendered—not out of weakness, but out of love. A quiet offering of myself, not just to his touch, but to everything he carried inside.

As Phu's fingers explored my body, I was becoming lost within the minute. I closed my eyes and let myself be devoured by the sensations that Phu was making. I seem to be developing wetter, more prepared for him with each passing minute.

At long last, Phu's fingers found their way to the entrance. I tensed up, bracing myself for the interruption. But Phu was gentle, facilitating himself into me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his touch.

I felt a momentary streak of pain, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of pleasure. Phu's fingers felt astonishing inside of me, and I found myself moving my hips in time with his thrusts.

As they moved together, I became more and more lost in Phu's haziness. But instead of feeling frightened or overwhelmed, I felt safe and secure. I knew that Phu needed me, and I was excited to be there for him.

As we kept touching each other, I knew that this was the beginning of something special between us. I was ready to face anything haziness Phu carried inside him, as long as it meant that I could be there to back him and help him heal.

Phu suddenly thrust himself inside of me, and I could feel myself losing control. My body trembled with pleasure, and I could barely think straight. "Phue, please be gentle," I managed to moan out, my voice hoarse with desire.

But Phu seemed to have lost all sense of restraint. He was moving with a wild abandon that I had never seen from him before. I could tell that he was close to the edge, and I knew that I was too.

"I'm sorry, baby," Phue gasped, his breath hot against my neck. "I'm trying, but you feel so good."

His words only served to heighten my pleasure. I wrapped my hands around his neck, pulling him deeper inside of me. I could feel myself starting to lose control, my orgasm building up inside of me like a tidal wave.

And then, with one final thrust, Phu sent me over the edge. I cried out in pleasure, my body shaking and trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me. Phue followed soon after, collapsing on top of me as he let out a low groan of satisfaction.

As we lay there, panting and spent, I knew that I had never felt closer to Phu. This was more than just physical pleasure - it was a deep, soulful connection that I had never experienced before. And as I looked into Phue's eyes, I knew that he felt it too.

From that moment on, our relationship was never the same. We had crossed a boundary that could never be uncrossed, and our love for each other had grown stronger as a result. We knew that we would face challenges and obstacles along the way, but we also knew that we had something special that would see us through. And as we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I knew that I had found my soulmate in Phu.

Phu cleaned me and then himself, moving tenderly—as if afraid to break the silence between us. We didn't speak much after that. There was nothing more that needed saying. Just a quiet understanding that lingered in the air like warmth from a fading fire.

Neither of us had the energy to dress. So we didn't.

We slipped beneath the covers, skin to skin, hearts steadying in rhythm with each other. The weight of the world faded—no expectations, no eyes watching, no roles to play.

Just us.

That night, sleep came easily. Deeply.

For a few hours, we forgot about the noise of the outside world. There were no fathers, no careers, no rumors, no fears. Just two people holding on.

And for once, that was enough.

The next morning, I woke up to find Phu already awake, quietly watching me. His gaze was soft, full of something unspoken.

I smiled. "Morning."

He smiled back. "Morning, baby."

"You're up already?" I asked, still half-sleepy.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Surprisingly, I slept well,"

I smirked. "Oh? Why's that?"

He didn't answer immediately—instead, he pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around me. "Because you're here," he said softly. "And because… I saw an angel first thing when I opened my eyes."

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a skeptical look. "Liar."

He laughed. "It's true, babe. You really do look like an angel when you're sleeping."

"Really? Then what about when I'm awake?"

He grinned mischievously. "A demon." And burst into laughter.

I grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him. "Take that back!"

He dodged, laughing harder, grabbing his own pillow. Within seconds, we were in a full-on pillow fight, feathers flying and laughter echoing through the room.

For a moment, life felt weightless—just us, sunshine, and silly joy wrapped in morning light.