No One Touches What's Mine
It started with a knock.
Not the polite kind.
Not even the angry kind.
The kind that dares you to open the door.
Three hard pounds.
Then silence.
Jesse was already moving before I could speak.
He opened the door wide—
And Reid stepped in like he owned the place.
---
"Missed me already,I was only gone for a few days?" Reid asked, voice low, eyes sweeping the apartment like he was measuring how far Jesse had fallen.
He looked at me.
Paused.
Smiled and me and said "oh you still here" and then turned to Jesse
"I see you kept your taste in boys. Though this one seems more like a project than a partner."
I didn't move.
But Jesse did.
Fast.
One fist slammed into Reid's chest, shoving him back into the door with a crack.
"Say one more word about him," Jesse growled, "and I'll make what happened last time look like alove tap."
---
Reid coughed, straightened, smoothed his shirt.
"You still think you're the monster, don't you?" hesaid.
"I was," Jesse snapped. "But I stopped letting you write that story forme."
Reid's voice dropped. "I came to tell you I'm pressing charges. For the incident back then."
Jesse didn't flinch.
"Do it."
That caught Reid off guard.
"You'll lose everything."
Jesse's hand found mine without even looking.
"No. I already found everything. And it isn't in your fucked-up idea of love. It's in him."
He pulled me forward.
Tugged the collar out from beneath my shirt and held it up—right there, right in front of Reid.
"You wanna know the difference between what we had and what this is?" Jesse said, voice steel.
"You were a scene. A sickness. A bruise I had to heal from."
He looked at me.
"This is mine. My person. My fucking future."
---
Reid sneered. "So you admit it then? You're still playing Dom."
"No," Jesse said. "I'm not playing. I'm living."
---
Reid left with a warning in his smile.
But Jesse didn't follow.
Didn't cave.
Didn't fall apart.
He turned to me, breathing hard.
And I stepped into his arms.
"You okay?" I asked.
"No," he admitted. "But I'm not afraid anymore."
---
That night, he didn't ask.
He took.
Fingers tangled in my hair.
Mouth rough.
Body demanding.
But every bite, every command, was a prayer:
And when I came undone, whimpering his name, he whispered,
"No one touches what's mine and walks away whole."