SEVENTEEN

Twirling his hair around my fingers, I confessed, "I've been seeing a therapist for a month now."

"What did he say?" Apollo asked, his eyes piercing mine with a serious expression.

"He said bad boys are a bad idea," I teased, flashing him a playful grin.

He arched an eyebrow. "I think I need to have a word with your therapist."

I laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Relax."

My finger traced his cheek and his lips. "I told him: It's hard to resist a bad boy who's a good man."

Apollo chuckled. "I am no good, Belle, we both know that."

"He doesn't have to know that," I laughed, rolling over onto my back.

He loomed over me, his voice a low murmur. 

"How much did you reveal about me, Bellissima?"

"Everything," I replied, capturing his eyes with mine. "He thinks I'm delusional," I added, a playful giggle escaping my lips, "believes you're just a figment of my imagination."

His eyes darkened as he growled, "He called you crazy?"

"Insane, to be precise," I chuckled.

"No one calls my wife insane," his eyes shifted from blue to black, intensity building. 

"I'll make him regret it so much, he'll question if you were a fragment of his own imagination," he said, running his fingers gently across my cheek. "And not the pleasant kind."

I bit my lip as he showered me with kisses on my neck, deep and passionate, leaving a trail of desire on my skin. Nails digging into his back, legs entwined around him, I surrendered to the moment.

My hand found its way to his hair, gripping it as he moaned against my lips.

Unbuttoning my shirt, he said, "If I believed in God, I'd think he sent you here just for me."

"I believe in God," I responded, "but we are not a match made in heaven."

"You are my heaven, Belle, and that makes me a believer," he said, sealing his words with a kiss, his tongue a dance of desire.

As he stood up, his fingers unbuttoning buttons on his white shirt, my eyes followed his every move, scanning his muscles covered with scars and tattoos. 

Perfectly imperfect in every way, he belonged to me and me alone.

Apollo

I tossed my shirt to the floor and moved towards her, kneeling on the bed as my hands slowly found their way to her body, pulling her closer. She was pure perfection as if she was made just for me, and I vowed to protect her fiercely from anyone who dared to touch her without my permission.

"Say my name," I urged, tracing my thumb over her lips.

"Apollo," she responded, biting her lip.

"Good girl," I murmured, lowering my pants. "My name will be the only thing you scream for the rest of your life."

She smiled, a playful chuckle escaping her lips as she leaned down with her back arched, and her legs spread for me. Clad only in her underwear, I couldn't wait to tear it apart, yearning to feel the warmth of her naked body against mine.

I moved in closer, lowering my boxers, and gently approached her inner thighs with my knee. She pulled herself up and shielded me with her round breasts, which were fuller than usual, igniting my desire for her even more.

Pushing her down onto the bed, I pinned her arms above her head and placed my lips against hers, my left hand keeping her wrists in place while the other traced a tantalizing path from her chest down to her lower body. Instead of removing her underwear entirely, I pulled them aside, relishing the warmth beneath my fingers.

The tip of my thumb pressed against her, while my middle finger explored the depths of her inner flesh. 

I slowly slid my fingers inside, one by one, until my hand formed almost a complete fist. Her scream filled the room as she recoiled, but I countered by thrusting my fingers in and out, maintaining a rhythm that matched her escalating pleasure.

Lowering my head to her neck, I sucked on her skin as she moaned against my ear. Sensing her tightening around my fingers, I seized the moment, withdrawing my fingers and licking them one by one as my eyes met hers. I pulled her closer until our hips met, and I thrust myself inside her, eliciting a gasp for more.

My hands firmly locked on her hips as I delved deeper inside her.

The intensity increased, faster and harder, accompanied by the sweet melody of her moans, calling out my name, "Apollo."

She was like a drug to me, the worst kind, making me addicted to her with each move I made.

Her legs wrapped around me, drawing me in deeper with each forceful thrust. Yet, in a sudden twist, she pushed me away, and I tumbled onto my back.

Smiling, she straddled me, her legs across my body as she sat down on me, arching her back and dancing with her hips as she drove me. Her perfectly shaped curves moved in perfect rhythm, each entrancing movement pushing me closer to the edge. 

I couldn't hold back any longer, and my moans mingled with her name, "Fuck, Belle."

She merely smiled, maintaining her rhythmic dance until she tightened around me, bringing me to the brink of ecstasy.

"Oh, Belle!" I growled in pleasure, succumbing to the intensity of the moment.

I gripped her hips firmly with my palms, increasing the pace until she rolled her eyes in pleasure. 

"Scream my name, Belle, scream," I urged.

"Apollo!!" she cried out, her voice a mix of pleasure and desire until she finally collapsed on my chest.

"I've missed you so much. I'll lock you in this room and make love to you every minute for the next 365 days," I declared.

"You're all I want," she whispered.

I leaned towards her, my body resting against hers as my fingers traced a path across her chest until they glided to a small, raised scar atop her stomach. Gently resting my finger on it, I asked, "When did this happen?"

She turned towards me, burying her head on my chest, just saying "Giovanni."

I sat up, cupping her face in my hands, as I demanded, "He did what?"

Springing to my feet, a low growl escaped me, "I'll tear him apart and spread him across New York."

"I thought they told you," she confessed, hiding her face in her hands.

"Bellissima, had I known, do you believe he'd still be breathing?" I moved closer, frustration simmering, "Damn it!"

My fist met the window as I started to punch, growling, "I. Will. Kill. Him."

The window shattered into fragments under the force, making my fist turn crimson red with blood.

Belle's eyes widened with concern as she rushed to the bathroom, grabbing a white towel, and soaking it with water from the cold tap. 

Gently pressing it to my injured hand, she implored, "Apollo, don't break yourself trying to shield me."

"I'd break the world for you if I must," I declared, drawing her close, my lips brushing her forehead. 

"I overreacted, baby, don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you, Apollo," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "I fear that I make you vulnerable, and I hate myself for it."

A soft chuckle escaped my lips, "Bellissima, you make me stronger."

I lifted her gently onto the bathroom sink, using my thumb to tilt her face towards mine. As our eyes met, I reassured her, "No one will ever take you from me. I won't allow it."

She leaned into my touch, her hands around my neck, seeking solace in the warmth of my embrace. Just as I leaned towards her, the bathroom lights flickered and then went out, plunging us into darkness. Belle gasped, her grip on me tightening, her nails digging into the back of my neck in fear. I pulled her closer, murmuring reassurances, "Hey, I'm here."

She trembled in my arms, her body shaking with fear. I held her close, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against my chest. 

"Belle, are you afraid of the dark?" I asked softly, my voice a soothing whisper in the darkness.

"Ever since," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence.

"It's okay, baby," I comforted, gently stroking her hair. "I'm here with you."

Her tears dampened my chest, and I held her tighter, offering her the safety and security of my embrace. 

"I'm scared, Apollo," she confessed, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"Don't be," I reassured her, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. 

"Just hold onto me, Belle," I said, guiding her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a comforting light upon us.

Moonlight from outside bathed the room, casting our bodies into silhouette. I opened the window, allowing a cold breeze to sweep in, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. I retrieved my shirt from the floor and draped it around her shoulders, fastening just two buttons as she crossed her arms, letting out a sigh of relief. 

Pulling on my pants, I then opened the window wider, extending my hand to her.

Outside, a set of stairs led up to the rooftop. Belle placed her hand in mine, and I leaned out of the window, planting my feet on the cold iron beneath. She sat on the window ledge, and I gently lifted her into my arms, carrying her to the ladder against the wall. I gestured for her to go first, admiring the sight of her against the night sky.

As she reached the top, she sat down at the edge, extending her hand for me. Instead of taking it to climb up, I kissed the top of her hand, then pulled her closer to the edge until she gasped and looked down.

"Darkness can be beautiful," I murmured, sitting next to her.

"You always find beauty in the darkest places," Belle replied softly.

"Perhaps," I chuckled, intertwining our fingers.

I gazed into the sky, closing my eyes, and recalling all the pain I endured from the age of five until now. I always tried to find reasons not to open to anyone. 

I believed that people offered love but concealed a knife behind their backs. However, with her, my heart felt safe, and I finally found peace within.

It's unimaginable how messed up someone can become. Instead of loving, I found myself loving fear. As the one who hid behind the face of the ruthless Beast, I was once the most vulnerable kid who never knew what love was. 

How could this be?

Perhaps I was always just angry, afraid of love but desperately wanting to be loved.

She delicately traced her fingers down my scars, her touch opening a window into my past.

"Belle," I whispered, feeling her warmth against my skin as she traced the lines of my scars. 

"Those scars," I added with a low growl, "each has a dark past."

I looked at her; her face became paler as if she wasn't ready to listen, but I was prepared to talk. A tear formed in her eye as she asked, "You don't have to..."

"I do, Belle. You deserve to know who the Beast was," I said, ready to share the haunting chapters of my story. 

Each word I was about to say would hit me like a ton of bricks, but I knew she was by my side, providing me with peace.

"I was five when Giovanni and Leo found me on the streets," I began, memories flooding back as bittersweet memoirs.

"Another boy, Nicholas, and I witnessed them murdering a mafia don. They gave us a choice: come with them or end up like that man, dead on the filthy streets of New York."

Belle's touch was gentle against my scars, her presence acting as a balm to my wounded soul.

"I was honestly happy, Belle," I chuckled, "happy that I wouldn't be homeless and hungry anymore," I said, taking her hand in mine. 

"But what we faced was worse," I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, controlling my voice, "Giovanni showed us no mercy."

"Apollo, please," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks, "stop."

But I didn't stop. 

"He took us everywhere he went. As a made guy, he brought us with him every time he was out to kill someone, thinking if cops saw him with kids, it wouldn't be suspicious. And Belle, what my child's eyes witnessed," my eyes welled up with tears, and my hands clenched into fists, my voice beginning to tremble, "he..." 

I sighed loudly, "He took us to the 'playroom' one day and punished us for just breathing. He took a knife and stabbed me right here," I said, guiding her palm to a scar on my chest. "I was six, Belle."

"Stop," she whispered, her voice a plea, "Stop."

My forehead pressed against hers, her hands cradling my face.

"Elena saved me," I continued, my words now a vulnerable whisper. 

"She begged him to take us to his strip club so she and other dancers could take care of us. I didn't speak for years. She taught me every letter of the word."

She wiped her tears, moved by the pain etched on my skin, and pressed her lips gently onto my scar, tracing the contours as if to heal the wounds of the past. 

"This scar doesn't define who you are," she murmured.

Her fingers moved to another scar and traced its path. "This one doesn't make you the Beast," she assured me, her fingers gently touching my lips.

"And no matter how scared you are, you'll always be the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Leaning in, I pressed my lips to hers, tangling my fingers in her hair.

"You are the strongest man I've ever met, with the biggest heart. Yet, no matter how many scars you have, they will always be a part of who you are," she said against my lips.

"I don't want to be some scared Beast that everyone pities, Belle," I confessed, closing my eyes. 

"That's the reason you are the only person I've talked about my wounds."

"Apollo, no one pities you," she responded, her lips leaving a tender trail from my forehead to the tip of my nose, then finally claiming my lips.

"They envy you because no matter how many times they tried to pull you down, you got back stronger. I know how it feels to be different, odd," she shared, locking her eyes with mine.

"I know how lonely that can be." Leaning in, she continued, "But we are not lonely anymore."

"You make me vulnerable, Bellissima," I said, standing up. "I have to take you to Aurelio. Now that my memories are back, you are not safe with me."

"Is this your way of pushing me away now that you've opened up to me?" she asked, her eyes tearing again, now her own pain facing mine. 

"Because if it is, I'm not leaving, Apollo."

I drew her closer, cupping her face, and sealed my words with a kiss. 

"Christ, no, Belle. This is my way of keeping you safe," I said, as her eyes melted into mine.