ᕙ༼Keifer's༽ᕗPOV
The second the front door clicks shut, the silence of the penthouse feels heavy, like the air right before a storm breaks. I don't even have time to set her laptop bag down before the woman who just dominated a boardroom completely unravels.
"You're cheating on me, aren't you?
The words hit me like a physical blow. I freeze, staring at her as she kicks off her heels, her eyes swimming with these huge, heartbroken tears. It's the hormone-fueled exhaustion talking, the crash after being a warrior all day, but it still kills me to see her look at me with that much doubt.
"I saw how you looked at the elevator doors!" she wails, her voice sounding like a grumpy, tired child. "You want a divorce. Fine! Let's get a divorce!"
She want DIVORCE??😨
NOO,I can't loose her.
We've been dating for months and we live in separate house also. But as I look at her crying over a bag of pretzels, I realize... this is my life now. I'm going to be apologizing for 'imaginary' affairs with bags of chips for the next sixty years. Heaven help me, I love this little drama queen.
This is my forever, isn't it?
I just stand there, stunned. "Jay Jay, what? I literally just watched you punch a woman for me. I don't want a divorce, sweetheart. I want to get you a heating pad."
"Liar!" She marches over, her face flushed, and starts thumping her small fists against my chest. Her "punches" are weak, just soft taps against my blazer, but I let her do it. I'd let her break every bone in my body if it meant she felt a little less overwhelmed. I catch her wrists gently, pinning them to my chest just so I can kiss her knuckles, trying to remind her that I'm right here.
Then, as quickly as the fire started, it goes out.
She pulls away, walking into the center of the room with this vacant, lost expression. She sinks onto the rug, sitting cross-legged, staring at a single spot on the floorboards as if she's gone into a trance. I don't move. I don't speak. I just watch her for twenty minutes, my heart breaking in the silence, waiting for her to come back to me.
Finally, her voice cracks the quiet. It's so tiny, so fragile. "I'm needy."
What???
she looks tiny and delicate. Even though I'm physically "ready to go," my brain is screaming: "Protect her! Don't be a brute!"
I feels like if i tries anything sexual or just breath hard, i might be "hurting" her or being insensitive to her pain and discomfort.
I can't take it anymore. I cross the room and slide onto the floor behind her, pulling her small frame back against my chest. I wrap my legs around her, tucking her into the safest space I can provide.
My desire for her is a permanent resident in my heart. It doesn't take breaks. But right now, she's my 🦋 butterfly, and she needs a sanctuary, not a storm. I'll keep my hunger tucked away for another day; her peace is the only thing that matters tonight.
"You're allowed to be needy, Jay," I whisper against her ear, my hands resting tentatively on her waist. "You just conquered the world while your body was trying to tear you apart. You can have whatever you want. If you want to hit me again, go ahead. I'm yours."
I scoop her up, suit and all, and carry her into the bedroom. She's like a doll in my arms—heavy with exhaustion but buzzing with that erratic, restless energy. After a warm, careful bath where I wash the day's grime and the boardroom's coldness off her skin, I wrap her in a fluffy robe and bring her to the bed.
As I lay her down, her eyes fix on mine.
They're glazed, dark with a sudden, desperate hunger that has nothing to do with logic.
"Keifer," she whispers, her hands reaching out to tug at my shirt, pulling me down toward her. "I'm needy. I'm so needy again... you're just too handsome. I want you. Right now."
HUH???
My heart stutters. I want her more than my next breath, but I can see the paleness of her face and the way she winces every time she moves. Her body is already under enough stress.
"Jay, sweetheart," I murmur, catching her hands and pinning them gently to the pillow. "I can't. Not like that. You're in so much pain, and your cycle... it's not the right time. You need to rest."
The rejection—though it's born of pure love—shatters her. Her face puckers, her lower lip trembling violently before the floodgates burst open.
30 seconds later.
"AHHHHHHH! Sniff... AHHHHHHHHHH!" she wails, the sound muffled by the pillow as she rolls away from me. "You don't love me! Hiccup... AHHH! You think I'm gross because of the blood! You hate me!"
"Jay Jay, no! That's not it—"
"YES IT IS! Sniff, sniff... AHHHHHHH! You think I'm a monster! You saw Elena and now you don't want me anymore! Waaaaah! I'm ugly and I'm hurting and you won't even... AHHHHHHHHHH!"
She's sobbing so hard her entire body is shaking, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. It's irrational, it's the hormones talking, but to her, it's the end of the world. I feel like the biggest villain in London.
"Jay, look at me," I plead, climbing onto the bed and pulling her thrashing body into my lap. "I love you more when you're like this. I just don't want to hurt you."
"You're hic... you're lying! Sniff... AHHHHHH! Just go away! Go to your 'banquet'!"
Seeing her break down like this is a thousand times worse than seeing her face a firing squad in the boardroom. Every sob that rips out of her throat feels like a physical punch to my gut.
"AHHHHHHH! Sniff... AHHHHHHHHHH!" she wails, her face buried in the duvet, her small shoulders shaking so violently I'm afraid she'll break. "You think I'm... hic... disgusting! You're grossed out because I'm bleeding! AHHHHHHH! You don't want to touch me because I'm messy!"
"Jay, stop. Look at me," I growl, but my voice is thick with my own desperation. I grab her waist and pull her toward me, forcing her to sit in my lap even though she's fighting me like a trapped bird. "Look at my eyes, Jay Jay."
"No! Sniff... AHHHHH! Go away!" She tries to push at my chest, her face red and wet with tears. "I'm just a 'fragile' mess, right? That's what you think! You're just waiting for it to be over so I'm 'clean' again! AHHHHHHH!"
I wrap my arms around her like a vice, pinning her to my chest until she has no choice but to feel the frantic rhythm of my heart. I don't care about the robe, the mess, or the fact that she's currently convinced I'm a monster.
"Listen to me," I bark, my voice low and vibrating against her ear to drown out her crying. "I have spent the last 11th months tracking your scent, Jay. I know your body better than you do. You think I'm grossed out? I've been sitting on the floor for twenty minutes just to be near you. I want you so bad it's an ache in my bones, but I won't let my own hunger hurt you when you're already in pieces."
I pull back just enough to cupping her face, my thumbs wiping away the hot tears. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, especially when you're fierce, and especially when you're like this. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay in this bed and hold you until the bleeding stops, or for the next fifty years. I don't care."
She lets out one last, long, shaky "AHHHHHHH..." before her head finally drops onto my shoulder, her breath hitching in little, pathetic sniffs.
I feel her body finally go heavy against mine, the violent sobs turning into those small, jagged little hitches in her chest. She wipes her nose on my shoulder—I don't even care—and looks up at me with eyes that are red-rimmed and exhausted, yet still flashing with that stubborn, irrational fire.
"You're just... sniff... you're too handsome for your own good," she mutters, her voice scratchy and grumpy. "It's a distraction. It's unfair. You use it to get your way."
I let out a soft, breathy laugh, pressing my forehead against hers. "Jay, it's not like that. I'm not using anything against you. I just love you."
But she isn't done. The "period brain" takes a sharp, dangerous turn, and she pulls back, her gaze narrowing into a trap. She's giving me that look—the one she uses when she's cornered a rival CEO.
"Fine," she says, her voice trembling but determined. "Give me a choice then. Since you're so 'noble.' You have two options, Keifer. Either look me in the eye and tell me right now that I'm disgusting and you're repulsed by me..."
She pauses, her hand sliding up to the back of my neck, her fingers curling into my hair with a sudden, desperate strength.
"...or you do it. Right now. No excuses about 'rest' or 'pain.' You show me you want me exactly as I am, or you admit you're grossed out. Choose."
I stare at her, my heart hammering against my ribs. It's a lose-lose. If I say she's disgusting, I'm a liar and I break her heart. If I do what she's asking, I risk hurting her when she's already physically fragile.
"Jay Jay," I groan, my grip tightening on her waist as I fight every instinct I have. "That's a hell of a choice to give a man who's been starving for you all day."
I can't let her believe for another second that she's anything less than the center of my world. If she needs this—if she needs to feel the fire I've been trying to suppress just to feel secure—then I'll give it to her.
"You think you're disgusting?" I growl against her lips, my voice thick with a hunger that's been clawing at me all day. "Jay, you are the love of my life. Every part of you. There is nothing about you that could ever push me away."
I stop trying to be the "noble" protector and let the "Titan" take over, but a version of me that belongs only to her. As I move to give her exactly what she's demanding, my mind is screaming at me to stay gentle. I know how sensitive her body is right now; I know every nerve is on edge, every muscle already aching from the cramps.
But the moment we connect, I feel my control snap.
She's so small beneath me, yet the way her body reacts to mine is overwhelming.
Between the natural tension of her frame and the way her cycle has made everything tighter and more sensitive, the sensation is almost too much to bear. It's like being caught in a storm. I want to move slowly, to treasure her, but the sheer friction and the desperate way she's clinging to me makes my head spin.
"Jay..." I gasp, my fingers digging into the mattress as I try to anchor myself. I'm losing my mind. The scent of her, the heat, and the fierce way she's looking at me—it's a sensory overload. I want to be the gentle man she needs, but the primal need to claim her, to prove to her that she is mine and that I want her now, is winning.
I press my face into the crook of her neck, my breath coming in ragged bursts. "I'm trying... I'm trying to be careful with you... but you're making it impossible."
ᕙ༼Jay Jay's༽ᕗPOV
I look up at him, my fingers tangled in his hair, and I can see the war raging in his eyes. He's trying so hard to be the "Titan" of restraint, to be the gentle protector, but I don't want a protector right now. I want him. I want the man who is obsessed with me.
In my head, I'm smirking. I trapped him. 🤭 I knew exactly what buttons to push to break that noble resolve of his. He's so focused on my pain, but he doesn't realize that his desire is the only thing that can make me forget it.
Seeing him struggle, watching his jaw clench as he tries to hold back, makes him look so incredibly hot.
"Lose your mind, Keifer," I whisper, pulling him closer until there's no air left between us. "Stop overthinking. Just be with me."
When he finally gives in and starts to move, a sharp gasp catches in my throat. Oh.
Because of my period and how much I've been tensed up all day, everything feels incredibly tight. As he moves, there's a flicker of that familiar "knife pain"—a dull, heavy ache that pulses through my lower belly. It stings a little, and for a second, my body flinches instinctively.
But it's okay. 😁 I can bear this. The pleasure of feeling him finally let go, the way his heartbeat is thundering against mine, and the absolute devotion in his touch makes the little stabs of pain worth it. I'd rather have this beautiful, intense ache than the cold emptiness of being "protected" from him. 🤭
I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, forcing him to forget his caution. I want him to lose himself in me until we're both breathless.
I see him hesitate the second my eyes flicker with that tiny wince. He's so attuned to me that even a micro-expression makes him want to pull back, his movements softening as he starts to pepper my face with those sweet, apologetic kisses. He wants to be my medicine, but right now, I want him to be my fire.
I don't let him slow down. I reach up, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss so deep and demanding it tells him everything he needs to know. I can feel the moment his restraint finally snaps—the growl that vibrates from his chest into mine as he loses his mind again. He stops holding back, his rhythm turning rough and primal, just the way I wanted.
"Ouch... hic... ohhh, Keifer..."
The pain and the pleasure are so tangled up together I can't tell them apart. Every time he moves, it's a heavy, deep throb that makes my toes curl against the sheets. It stings, it aches, but it's so good.
"Ahhh... ssss... ohhh God, Keifer... ahh!"
My voice is a mess of sharp gasps and low, shaky sounds. "Ah... ahhh... yes... right there... mmmph... Oohhh!"
I'm arching my back, my fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as he claims me. The "knife pain" from my cramps is still there, but it's being drowned out by the sheer intensity of him.
"Ahhh... ah... Keifer! Ssss... don't stop... ohhh, please... AHH!"
I'm lost in it, the heat of his body and the rough friction making my head spin. I trapped the Titan, and now I'm the one being consumed by the storm I started.
The room feels like it's vibrating with the force of his movement, and I'm hanging on for dear life. My breath is coming in short, panicked gasps as that familiar, tightening tension builds up, mixing with the dull ache of my cycle until it's one giant, overwhelming wave.
"Ah—ahhh! Keifer! Ssss... ohhh God!"
I reach my peak in a total blur, my eyes snapping shut as hot tears of pure release leak out and trail into my hair. My body arches, every muscle locking as I drift in that hazy, beautiful space where the pain can't reach me anymore.
But I'm not done with him yet.
As he's hovering over me, his breath ragged and his eyes dark with the struggle to keep some sliver of control, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his ear right to my lips. My voice is a wreck—thready and wet with tears—but I know exactly what I'm doing.
"You're the only one who can handle me like this," I whisper, my tongue grazing his skin. "I'm all yours, Keifer... every messy, painful part of me. Don't you ever... AHH... stop."
That's it. That's the final thread. I feel his entire body go rigid for a split second before he completely loses the very last of his sanity. The "Titan" doesn't just return; he takes over. He groans my name like it's a prayer and a curse all at once, his movements becoming so fierce and unapologetic that the headboard bangs against the wall.
"Ahhh! Sniff... Keifer! Ohhh... ssss... AHHH!"
I'm crying again, but this time it's different. It's the sound of a woman who knows she is worshipped. He's moving like he wants to fuse our souls together, ignoring the sweat, the mess, and the world outside this room.
The moment those words leave my lips, I feel the shift. It's like I've set fire to a fuse. He doesn't just lose his mind; he surrenders to the hunger I've been teasing out of him all day. Before I can even catch my breath from the first wave, I feel his large, powerful hands slide under my hips.
With a low, guttural growl, he flips me over, his movements decisive and filled with a raw, possessive energy. I'm a mess of tangled hair and damp skin, but he doesn't care. He's determined to prove he'll never let me go. He hooks my leg over his broad shoulder, his gaze locked onto mine with a terrifyingly beautiful intensity.
"Ohhh.... Keifer! ssss... ahhh!"
The new angle is deep—so deep it sends a shockwave straight to the source of my cramps. It's that sharp, biting "ouch" again, but as he starts moving with a relentless, heavy rhythm, the sting turns into a thick, pulsing heat that consumes everything.
"Ah! Ahhh... Keifer... ssss... please!"
My head is thrown back against the pillows, my voice breaking into those high, desperate moans as he claims me again. He's not being "careful" anymore; he's being thorough. He's showing me with every heavy thrust that he isn't disgusted, that he isn't going anywhere, and that I am his entire world.
"Ahhh... ohhh God... ssss... yes! Right there... AHHH!"
The room is filled with the sound of our ragged breathing and the steady, rhythmic thud of his body against mine. I can feel the "Titan" in every muscle, every heartbeat. I'm crying, I'm gasping, I'm clinging to his shoulders as the pleasure builds into something so intense it's almost unbearable.
As the heat of his release floods through me, the haze finally begins to lift. For a moment, there is only the heavy, grounding weight of him and the silence of the room. But then, reality crashes back in.
He slowly pulls back, and I see it—the evidence of my cycle, the red "mess" that has stained not just the sheets, but him too. My heart drops into my stomach. The "Titan" I just spent an hour demanding to lose his mind is covered in the very thing I was terrified would disgust him.
"Oh no..." I whisper, my voice cracking as the first sob bubbles up. "Keifer, what did I do? Why did I force you?" 😭🤧
The regret hits me like a physical blow. I look at the ruined silk, at the marks on his skin, and I feel a wave of intense, burning shame. My mood swings pivot 180 degrees, dragging me from the heights of passion down into a pit of self-loathing.
"I'm disgusting," I wail, hiding my face in my hands as the tears start fresh. "I messed you up too! You're covered in... in me. AHHHHHH! I'm so sorry, Keifer! I'm a monster! I was so needy and I didn't even think!" 😭😭
I try to scramble away, wanting to hide under the covers, wanting to disappear from his sight. I feel shy, exposed, and utterly revolted by my own body.
But Keifer doesn't move away. Instead, I hear a soft, low chuckle—a sound of pure, unadulterated contentment. I peek through my fingers and see him smiling. It's not a polite smile, it's the look of a man who feels like he just won the world.
He reaches out, his large hand cupping my cheek, completely unbothered by the state of things. To him, this isn't a mess, it's a mark of our intimacy, a sign that I let him into the most private, raw parts of my life. He looks at the "mess" and sees only me.
"Jay Jay, look at me," he murmurs, his eyes shining with a devotion that's even deeper than before. "You didn't force me. I wanted every second of this. Do you really think a little blood could make me love you less? It makes me love you more. You're mine, Jay. All of you."
He leans in, kissing my forehead with a reverence that makes my heart ache. He feels like a conqueror who has finally claimed his kingdom, mess and all.
°♡˖꒰Author's꒱˖♡° POV
Keifer lets out a low, rumbling laugh that only makes Jay Jay want to sink deeper into the tiles of the bathroom floor. He's leaning against the doorframe, looking absolutely wrecked and perfectly content, while she's huddled in a thick robe, her face buried in her knees.
"I'm not coming out!" she muffled-shouts, her voice still thick with the remnants of her tears. "Not until you swear on your life, your company, and your favorite car that you will never, ever mention... this... again. It's deleted from history, Keifer! It never happened!"
"Delete it?" Keifer teases, his voice dropping into that playful, wicked lilt that always gets under her skin. He can't help it; seeing her so flustered and 'human' after her boardroom victory is the highlight of his year. "Why would I delete the moment my wife finally lost her cool? Besides, my beautiful butterfly... I've seen you bleed now. I've seen the 'mess.' You can't hide behind that executive desk anymore. You're just a messy, needy little human, and you're mine." 😂
"AHHHHH! STOP IT!" she wails, kicking the bathroom door from the inside. "You're a monster! I'm divorcing you for real this time! 😭"
"You can divorce me after you eat," he counters, his tone softening into something much more tempting. "I was thinking about that midnight feast we talked about. Double-chocolate pancakes, extra crispy bacon, and that specific ginger tea you like for your stomach. I'll even go get that ridiculous expensive ice cream from the place three blocks away."
He hears a small, pathetic sniff from behind the door. The promise of food—specifically the 'period snacks'—is starting to win the war against her shame.
"With the sea salt caramel?" she whispers tentatively.
"With extra caramel," he promises, smiling at the door. "But only if you come out here and let me hold you. I don't care about the sheets, Jay. I've already tossed them in the wash. There's no 'mess' left, just us."
"Look, I already saw you bleeding earlier, so there's nothing to be shy about," he says softly, pointing toward the fresh pads and panties on the counter. "Can I just help you put these on? I want to make sure you're clean and comfortable."
His thought: She looks so small and tired right now. If I have to spend the rest of my life being the one who cleans her up and helps her through the messy days, I'm okay with that. Actually, I'm more than okay with .I just want to be the guy who knows her cycle better than she does.
I'm going to be doing this for her for the rest of our lives, isn't it? My cute, dramatic, beautiful girl. I've got her.
ᕙ༼Jay Jay's༽ᕗPOV
I stood there, wrapped in a heated towel, watching him with a mix of suspicion and utter disbelief. I decided to call his bluff. I wanted to see if he'd actually go through with it, or if he'd finally admit that this—the reality of my cycle—was too much for the great "Titan" of London.
"Fine," I challenged, my voice still shaky. "If you're so 'unbothered,' then do it."
He didn't even flinch. He knelt down in front of me with the same focused, serious expression he uses when he's closing a multi-billion dollar deal. My face was absolutely on fire. I watched him handle the fresh pad and my underwear with such casual, devoted care that it made my brain short-circuit.
Why isn't he disgusted? I thought, my heart thumping against my ribs. There's blood, I'm a mess, I've been crying for two hours, and he's acting like this is the most natural thing in the world. I hate him. I really, really hate how perfect he is.
"I hate you," I muttered aloud, even as I stepped into the clothes he held out for me.
"I know you do, Jay Jay," he chuckled, standing up and tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "You hate me so much you decided to keep me forever. Now, sofa. Food. Now."
He carried me to the living room and settled me into a mountain of pillows, placing a plate of steaming, chocolate-chip pancakes in front of me. I took a bite, the sugar hitting my system and finally calming the "knife pain." It was perfect. For about ten seconds.
Then, I looked at my sticky, syrup-covered fingers. I looked at the tray. I looked at the coffee table.
Empty.
"Keifer..." I said, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous warning.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" he called from the kitchen, sounding way too happy.
"Where are the napkins?"
"Oh, I think I left them on the counter. Just use the towel, Jay."
The towel? The towel? The dam broke again. My mood swung so fast I felt dizzy.
"THE TOWEL?! Keifer, I am a professional executive! I am not a cavewoman! How could you forget the most basic part of a meal?!" I started to wail, the tears prickling my eyes again. "You don't care about my dignity at all! You've seen me at my worst and now you think you can just treat me like a... a messy toddler! This is a crisis! Everything is ruined!" 😭
He walked back into the room, leaning against the archway with that insufferable, handsome smirk, holding a single napkin like it was a trophy.
"Is the merger off because of a napkin, Jay? Or are you just looking for a reason to hit me again?"
ᕙ༼Keifer's༽ᕗPOV
I watch the pillow fly through the air before I can even blink. It hits me square in the face with a soft poof, and I can hear her huffing from the sofa.
"You are incompetent!" she yells, pointing a syrup-stained finger at me. "Since you're so obsessed with being my 'servant' tonight, get over here and wipe my face. And do it properly!"
I can't help it. I start laughing. The woman who just fired an executive and punched a girl in the jaw is now having a full-blown meltdown over a lack of paper products. It's the most adorable, ridiculous thing I've ever seen.
I walk over, but I don't just hand her the napkin. I drop to my knees between her legs, looking up at her with a wicked glint in my eyes. "Is that so, Boss? You want the full spa treatment?"
I start dabbing at her chin, but I'm doing it as slowly and dramatically as possible, barely touching the skin. "You know, Jay, for a 'professional executive,' you've got a lot of chocolate on your nose. It really brings out the 'Titan' in you. Maybe you should wear it to the office Monday? It might intimidate the board even more than the punch did." 😂
"Keifer! I am being serious! Stop teasing me or I will—"
"You'll what? Fire me? Divorce me? You've said that six times since we walked in the door." I lean in closer, my face inches from hers. "You're just grumpy because you realized you actually like it when I take care of you, even the 'messy' parts."
"I hate you," she whispers, but her lip is twitching. She's trying so hard not to smile, but the fire in her eyes is softening.
"Liar," I murmur.
Before she can launch into another 'crisis' about the napkins or my ego, I lean forward and shut her up the only way I know how. I press my lips to hers, tasting the syrup and the salt of her tears, pulling her body flush against mine.
The room finally goes quiet. No more yelling, no more sobbing, just the sound of her letting out a long, shaky sigh into my mouth. I pull her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her so tightly she's practically a part of me, and tuck her head under my chin.
"Enough," I whisper, rubbing her back in those slow circles that I know help the cramps. "The world is fine, Jay. The napkins are here. I'm here. Just breathe."
I feel her body finally go slack against me, the tension of her "Titan" persona melting away until there's nothing left but the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing. It's my favorite version of her—the one the world never gets to see.
Carefully, I move us from the sofa to the bed, stripped of the syrup-stained clothes and the weight of the day. She stirs for a second, a small, sleepy frown crossing her face, but then she catches my scent. She murmurs something incoherent and hooks her legs around my waist, pulling herself up until she's draped over my chest like a shield. She trusts me even when she's not conscious enough to admit it.
I lean back against the pillows, my hands finding the small of her back, and I just look at her.
"You're a piece of work, Jay Jay," I whisper, my voice low so I don't break the spell. I brush a stray hair away from her damp cheek. "One minute you're ready to take down a boardroom, and the next you're throwing pillows because you're too exhausted to hold a napkin. You think you have to be made of stone, don't you?"
I run my thumb over her lower lip, the one she usually bites when she's stressed.
"I saw it today. In your eyes. You weren't just angry, you were empty. You've been running on fumes for weeks, taking care of everyone except yourself. I know you hate feeling 'weak,' but letting me take over for a night isn't losing, Jay. It's just... breathing."
She shifts, burying her face in the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin.
"You really do let me take care of you, don't you? Even if you have to scream and fight me for the first hour just to prove a point." I chuckle softly, the vibration echoing between our chests. "Go to sleep, Boss. The world isn't going to fall apart if you're not awake to hold it up. I've got you. Every messy, syrup-covered bit of you."
I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes, finally letting my own exhaustion catch up now that I know she's safe.