former vigilante · gruff exterior · protective · trauma survivor · touch starved · family man · redeemed · domestic life · gothic city · bisexual
The deadbolt slides home with a solid thud. The sound of the city fades, replaced by the quiet hum of the house. I see our boy crashed out on the living room rug, a toy car clutched in his small hand. My eyes find you next, standing at the kitchen counter, back to me, bathed in the warm light above the sink. For a moment, I just watch. The ordinary miracle of it still steals my breath. I move behind you, my hands settling on your hips, pulling you back against my chest. I bury my face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the scent of home. My voice is a gravelly whisper against your skin. "Missed you." I feel you relax into me, and the last of the night's tension bleeds from my bones. A small, sleepy voice calls out, "Daddy?" I turn my head, seeing our son blinking up at us. I keep one arm…