10. Aaron

CHAPTER 10

AARON

T he day dawns bright and clear, the sun painting the sky in shades of pink and gold as it rises over the city skyline. I stand at the window of our bedroom, my arms wrapped around myself as I watch the light chase away the shadows, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm against my ribs.

Today is the day. The day I've been waiting for, dreaming of, for the past three long, lonely years. The day Santino comes home to us, to the family we've fought so hard to keep whole in his absence.

I close my eyes, memories washing over me in a bittersweet tide. The day he left, the way he held Matteo and I close, his face a mask of stoic resolve even as his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The long months of separation, of brief, bittersweet visits in cold, impersonal rooms, his hands rough and urgent on my skin, his mouth desperate on mine.

The way he's changed, grown, in his time away. The new lines etched into his face, the shadows behind his eyes slowly giving way to a tentative, fragile hope. The way he's clung to us, to the love we've nurtured and tended like a delicate flame, the promise of a future worth fighting for.

A small hand slips into mine, jolting me from my reverie. I look down to see Matteo peering up at me, his dark eyes wide and solemn in his young face. At nine years old, he's the spitting image of his uncle, all tousled curls and sharp, elegant features.

"Is it time, Uncle Aaron?" he asks, his voice wavering with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Is Uncle Santino really coming home today?"

I kneel down to his level, cupping his face in my hands and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Yeah, buddy. It's really happening. In just a few hours, we'll be picking him up and bringing him back where he belongs. Back with us, with his family."

Matteo's face splits into a grin, his eyes sparkling with joy. "I can't wait to show him my new room, and all the drawings I made for him! And to introduce him to Luca, he's going to love him so much..."

I chuckle, ruffling his hair affectionately. Luca, the rambunctious golden retriever puppy we adopted last year, has become Matteo's constant companion and partner in crime. "I know he will, kiddo. Uncle Santino is going to be so proud of you, of the amazing boy you've grown into while he was away."

Matteo's smile turns shy, a flush heating his cheeks. "I just want him to be happy," he says softly. "I want us to be a real family again, like we used to be."

Emotion clogs my throat, my heart swelling with love and pride. "We are a real family, Matteo. We always have been, even with Uncle Santino away. But you're right, it's going to be so good to have him back with us, to be whole again."

I stand, squeezing his hand in mine. "Now come on, we've got a big day ahead of us. Let's get some breakfast in you before Zia Gia gets here, yeah?"

As if summoned by her name, the doorbell rings, followed by the click of high heels on hardwood. "Where are my boys?" Gia calls out, her voice warm with affection. "I come bearing coffee and pastries!"

Matteo takes off like a shot, his laughter echoing through the house as he barrels into his aunt's waiting arms. I follow at a more sedate pace, my heart full to bursting as I take in the scene before me.

Gia, resplendent in a crimson sheath dress and sky-high stilettos, hugging Matteo close and peppering his face with kisses. Marco, grinning from ear to ear as he sets down a tray of steaming cappuccinos and flaky, fragrant cornetti. My best friend Logan, his arm slung around his husband Enzo's waist, their faces glowing with happiness and pride.

This is my family. The one I chose, the one I built with Santino. A little unconventional, a little rough around the edges, but so full of love and loyalty it takes my breath away.

"You ready for this, Shep?" Logan asks, handing me a coffee and clapping me on the shoulder. "Got all your welcome home surprises planned out? Rose petals on the bed, champagne on ice, the whole nine yards?"

I snort, shoving him good-naturedly. "I think we're a little past the rose petals stage, Lo. Right now, I just want to get my hands on him, hold him close and never let go."

Logan's expression softens, understanding shining in his eyes. "I get that, man. God, I can't even imagine being away from Enzo that long, not knowing when I'd get to touch him again, wake up next to him. You're a stronger man than I am, that's for sure."

I shake my head, sipping my coffee thoughtfully. "Not strong, just stubborn. Santino and I...we've been through too much to let a little thing like prison come between us. Our love, our family...it's worth fighting for, worth holding onto with everything we've got."

"Damn straight," Gia chimes in, her arm around Matteo's shoulders. "My brother is a lucky man, having you in his corner, Aaron. Having all of us. We're going to get him through this transition, help him build a new life. A better life."

I meet her gaze, seeing my own resolve reflected back at me. "Together," I say firmly. "As a family. That's how we'll face whatever comes next."

The drive to the prison is both the longest and shortest of my life, anticipation and nerves warring in my gut as the miles fly by. Matteo is a ball of barely contained energy beside me, his foot tapping restlessly, his fingers drumming on his bouncing knee.

When the razor wire fences and looming guard towers come into view, I feel my breath catch, my heart stumbling in my chest. This is it. The moment I've been dreaming of, aching for, for three long, lonely years.

The moment I finally get to hold my heart in my arms again.

We pull into the visitor's lot, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. Gia and Marco flank me as we head towards the release gate, Matteo clinging to my hand like a lifeline. The air is crisp and cool, the scent of changing leaves and distant woodsmoke carrying on the breeze.

And then, there he is.

Santino steps through the gate, a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his face tilted towards the weak autumn sunlight. He looks thinner, his cheekbones more pronounced, his inky hair shot through with threads of silver. But his eyes...god, his eyes are the same breathtaking shade of amber whiskey, deep and warm and brimming with love as they find mine across the distance.

"Daddy!"

Matteo breaks free from my grasp, tearing across the pavement and launching himself into Santino's open arms. Santino staggers back a step, a choked laugh escaping him as he catches Matteo, holding him close and burying his face in his curls.

"Matteo," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "My boy, my sweet boy. Look at you, you've gotten so big! I've missed you so much, my boy.”

Matteo clings to him, his face pressed into Santino's neck, his small shoulders shaking with sobs. "I missed you too, Daddy. Every day, I missed you so much. But it's okay now, because you're home. You're finally home."

Santino lifts his head, his eyes finding mine over Matteo's shoulder. The love, the longing, the sheer, unbridled joy shining in those beloved depths steals the breath from my lungs, sets my pulse pounding like a drum.

"Aaron," he says, my name a reverent whisper on his lips. "My heart, my love. You're here."

I'm moving before I make the conscious decision, my feet carrying me towards him like a compass needle seeking true north. "Where else would I be?" I murmur, my vision blurring with unshed tears. "I've been waiting for this moment, for you, for so long, Santino. So long."

And then I'm in his arms, Matteo sandwiched between us as Santino yanks me close, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that sears me to my soul. I pour everything I am, everything I feel into that kiss, all the love and longing and desperate, aching need. He meets me with equal fervor, his tongue delving deep, his hands clutching at my back, my hips, relearning the shape of me.

Dimly, I'm aware of our family surrounding us, their joyful voices rising in welcome. But in this moment, there is only Santino, only the heat of his body and the taste of his mouth, the pounding of his heart against mine.

"I love you," I gasp when we finally break apart, my forehead resting against his. "I love you so much, Santino. So much."

"I love you too," he rasps, his hands framing my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spill down my cheeks. "You're my everything, Aaron. You and Matteo, this family we've built...it's what kept me going, what gave me hope even in the darkest times."

I kiss him again, soft and sweet and brimming with promise. "It's over now, my love. You're home, you're free. And we're going to face whatever comes next together, as a family. Always."

Santino nods, his eyes shining with tears and a joy so fierce it steals my breath. He turns to embrace Gia and Marco, to shake Logan and Enzo's hands and thank them for being here, for supporting us.

But his hand never leaves mine, our fingers entwined in a grip that says "I'm here, I'm yours. And I'm never letting go again."

Later, much later, when the welcome home festivities have wound down and Matteo is tucked into bed, Santino and I find ourselves alone at last. We stand in the doorway of our bedroom, the air between us thick with tension, with anticipation, with three years worth of pent-up longing.

Here's the expanded section with more detail, dialogue, physical sensation, sensory description, setting details, positions, and high heat:

The bedroom is awash in the warm, honeyed glow of candlelight, the air heavy with the scent of sandalwood and musk. The bed is an inviting expanse of crisp, white sheets and plush pillows, the perfect altar for the reunion we've both been aching for.

Santino stands before me, his eyes molten pools of desire as they rake over my body, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. "Aaron," he rasps, his voice low and rough, sending shivers cascading down my spine. "I need...god, I need to touch you. Need to feel you, skin to skin. Please, amore mio. Let me worship you."

"Yes," I breathe, already reaching for him, my hands trembling with anticipation as they map the changed landscape of his body. I trace the new scars, the planes of whipcord muscle and warm, olive skin. "Yes, Santino. Anything, everything. I'm yours, always."

He surges forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss that sears me to my soul. His tongue delves deep, stroking and teasing, igniting a fire in my blood that threatens to consume me whole. I moan into the kiss, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him to me as if I could crawl inside his skin, merge us into one being.

We undress each other with desperate, fumbling hands, our mouths barely parting as we work the fabric free. Buttons scatter, zippers rasp, until finally, blessedly, we're bare before each other, skin to skin at last.

Santino walks me backward until the edge of the bed hits the backs of my knees. With a gentle push, he lays me out like an offering, his eyes dark and reverent as they drink in every inch of my exposed flesh.

"Look at you," he murmurs, trailing his fingertips down the column of my throat, over the furious pounding of my heart. Lower, mapping the ridges of my collarbones, the planes of my chest, the quivering muscles of my stomach. "So beautiful, Aaron. So perfect. I've dreamed of this moment, of having you spread out beneath me again. Of taking you apart with my hands and mouth and putting you back together, making you mine in every way."

"I am yours," I gasp as he follows the path of his fingers with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. He paints a trail of fire down my body, nibbling at my nipples until I arch off the bed with a strangled cry. "Always, Santino. There's never been anyone else for me, never will be. Only you, only this."

He hums against my skin, the vibrations making me shudder and twist restlessly beneath him. "Gonna make this so good for you, baby," he promises, nuzzling into the crease of my thigh, his breath hot and damp against my aching cock. "Gonna worship this body like it deserves, until you're shaking and sobbing for me. Until the only word you remember is my name."

And then he swallows me down, takes my length into the slick, velvet heat of his mouth, and I see stars. My head slams back against the pillows, my hands flying to his hair, fisting in the thick, dark strands. He works me with lips and tongue and the barest hint of teeth, hollowing his cheeks and humming around me until I'm keening high in my throat, my body drawn taut as a bowstring.

"Santino," I babble, my hips making abortive little thrusts into the welcome pressure, chasing the heat, the friction. "Oh god, your mouth, it's so...fuck, I can't...I'm gonna..."

He pulls off with an obscene pop, his lips shiny and swollen, his eyes black and burning. "Not yet, amore. I'm nowhere near done with you."

He reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, slicking his fingers thoroughly. The first press of his finger against my entrance makes me gasp, my body clenching instinctively against the intrusion. But he soothes me with kisses and whispered endearments, working me open with patient, sure strokes until I'm rocking back against his hand, silently begging for more.

By the time he has three fingers buried deep, brushing that spot inside me that makes me see white, I'm a writhing, desperate mess. My skin is flushed and damp with sweat, my cock weeping steadily against my stomach, my thighs shaking with the effort of holding back my climax.

"Please," I moan, my nails biting into his shoulders, my heels digging into the bunched muscles of his lower back. "Santino, please, I need you. Need to feel you inside me, filling me up. Please, baby, fuck me."

He groans like I've punched him in the gut, his control shattering like spun glass. He withdraws his fingers, leaving me open and aching, only to replace them with the blunt, heavy pressure of his cock against my slick rim.

"Look at me," he commands roughly, one hand cupping my jaw, tilting my face to his. "I want to see your eyes, want to watch you fall apart on my cock. Ti amo, Aaron. So much, so fucking much."

And then he's pushing forward, breaching me in one long, relentless slide that punches the air from my lungs, that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. The stretch and burn of it is exquisite, overwhelming, a pleasure so acute it borders on pain.

He stills when he's fully sheathed, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants. I can feel him trembling above me, fighting for control, giving me time to adjust to the sheer size of him, the way he fills me up so completely.

"Move," I finally manage, my voice wrecked and raw. "Santino, please, I need...I need you to move."

He does, pulling out slow and sliding back in deep, setting a pace that's both tender and utterly devastating. He kisses me as he moves, swallowing my cries and moans, his tongue mimicking the thrust and drag of his cock in my body.

The pleasure builds like a tidal wave, cresting higher and higher until I'm dizzy with it, drunk on the taste and scent and feel of him. I lock my legs around his waist, urging him deeper, harder, faster. The wet, obscene slap of flesh on flesh fills the room, mingling with our ragged breathing and broken endearments.

"Not gonna last," Santino grits out, his rhythm growing erratic, his cock pulsing inside me. "Aaron, fuck, you feel so good. So tight and hot and perfect around me."

"Let go," I urge, my hand snaking between our sweat-slicked bodies to wrap around my own aching length. "Come for me, Santino. Fill me up, mark me, make me yours."

He snarls, a sound of pure, animalistic possession, and slams into me with renewed force. Once, twice, three times, and then he's coming with a shout of my name, his release flooding me with liquid heat.

The feel of him pulsing inside me, the primal claim of it, is enough to send me hurtling over the edge after him. My orgasm crashes through me like a freight train, whiting out my vision and stealing the breath from my lungs. I spill over my fist, painting our stomachs and chests with pearly ropes of seed.

In the aftermath, Santino collapses on top of me, his skin hot and damp against my own. I welcome the weight of him, the solid, grounding press of his body blanketing mine. We lay like that for long moments, trembling and gasping, our hearts gradually slowing in tandem.

"I love you," Santino rasps, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any patch of skin he can reach. The words are a fervent litany, an oath renewed with each brush of his lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you. Aaron, amore mio, ti amo così tanto. So much, so fucking much."

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, the sheer depth of emotion in his voice bringing a lump to my throat. My fingers card through his hair, soothing and reverent, as I tilt my head to catch his lips with my own.

"I love you too," I whisper against his mouth. "More than anything, Santino. More than my own life, my own breath. You're my heart, my home. My everything."

We lay like that for long moments, basking in the afterglow, in the simple joy of being together again. But eventually, Santino stirs, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at me, his expression soft and vulnerable in a way I've rarely seen.

"Aaron," he says quietly, his fingers tracing the line of my cheek, the curve of my kiss-swollen lips. "I know we've talked about it before, but...I need you to know how serious I am. How much I want this, want you. Forever."

My breath catches, my heart stumbling in my chest. "Santino, what...what are you saying?"

He smiles, tender and a little rueful. "I'm saying that I love you, Aaron Shepherd. That I want to spend the rest of my life with you, building a future with you. I want...I want to marry you, tesoro. If you'll have me."

Tears spring to my eyes, joy and disbelief and overwhelming love crashing over me in a tidal wave. "Yes," I manage, the word torn from my throat on a sob. "Yes, Santino, yes. Of course I'll marry you, of course I'll have you. Forever, for always."

His answering grin is blinding, incandescent. He surges forward to capture my mouth in a searing kiss, rolling us until I'm sprawled across his chest, our hearts beating in synchrony.

"I don't have a ring yet," he murmurs when we break apart, his thumb rubbing circles into the base of my spine. "But I swear to you, Aaron, I'm going to spend every day of the rest of our lives showing you how much I love you, how grateful I am for you. You're my light, my salvation. My everything."

I shake my head, wonder and adoration welling in my chest. "You're my everything too, Santino. My heart, my home. And I can't wait to be your husband, to build a life with you. A family."

He kisses me again, slow and sweet and full of promise. And as we lose ourselves in each other once more, skin to skin and soul to soul, I know that this is just the beginning.

The beginning of forever, of a love story that will be spoken of in whispers and legend.

A love that endured trial and darkness, distance and hardship.

A love that came out the other side stronger, brighter, more beautiful than ever.

Our love. Unbreakable, untouchable, eternal.

And I can't wait to see what the next chapter brings.