The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden light across their bedroom. On the TV, some Netflix show played—Nana had long since forgotten what they were watching. Her attention was entirely on Xavier, who lay with his head in her lap, his ash-blonde hair soft under her fingers as she stroked through it absently.
This was her favorite version of him. Not the dangerous mafia boss who commanded fear and respect. Not the cold-eyed killer who'd built an empire on blood and power. Just Xavier. Her Xavier. Relaxed and peaceful, his blue eyes half-closed in contentment.
He shifted slightly, turning to press a kiss to her stomach through her thin tank top. Then another. And another.
"Xavier?" she asked softly, her fingers pausing in his hair.
"Mm?" He kept kissing, moving lower, his hands sliding to her hips.
"What are you doing?"
He was quiet for a moment, his lips stilling against her belly. When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than usual. "They shot me with something. During the fight last night."
Nana's heart clenched. She'd known there was a fight—Xavier had come home with blood on his clothes (not his own, he'd assured her) and bruises darkening his ribs. But he hadn't mentioned an injection.
"What?" Her hands cupped his face, making him look up at her. "What did they inject you with? Are you okay? Should we call a doctor—"
"I'm fine, starlight. It's not lethal." But his jaw was tight with frustration. "It's... worse in some ways."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't feel anything." His hands flexed on her hips. "Or taste. Everything's... numb. Muted. Like there's a barrier between me and the rest of the world."
Horror washed over her. "Xavier—"
"I can feel pressure," he continued. "I know when someone touches me. But the sensation itself? Gone. Food tastes like ash. Water has no temperature." His eyes met hers, and she saw genuine distress there beneath his usual composure. "I can't feel you properly, starlight. And it's driving me insane."
"How long will it last?"
"My doctor says it should wear off in 24 to 48 hours. But right now..." He pressed another kiss to her stomach, and she could see the frustration in the tension of his shoulders. "I know I'm kissing you. I can feel the pressure of your skin against my lips. But I can't *feel* you. Can't taste you."
Her heart ached for him. Xavier wasn't openly affectionate with most people, but with her, he was touch-starved—constantly seeking contact, anchoring himself with her warmth. To have that taken away...
"Can you feel this?" She slid her hand down from his face to his chest, pressing her palm flat over his heart.
"Pressure," he confirmed. "I know you're touching me. But the warmth of your hand, the softness of your skin—it's all muted."
She moved her hand lower, across his abdomen, testing. "And this?"
"Same." His voice had gone quieter, and she noticed his eyes had darkened slightly.
Her hand drifted lower still, entirely innocent in her concern, wanting to map where the numbness extended. "Here?"
"Nana—" Her name came out strained.
"I just want to know if you can feel—" Her hand slipped even lower, brushing over the front of his sweatpants, and she froze.
He was hard.
"I can feel that," Xavier said, his voice dropping to something rougher, more dangerous. "Or rather, I know I should be able to feel it. I can feel the pressure, the tightness. But not the pleasure. Not the way I usually do when you touch me."
She pulled her hand back quickly, flushing. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to—"
"Don't apologize." In one fluid motion, he sat up, turning to face her fully. His blue eyes had gone dark with heat, pupils dilated. "Keep testing. Please."
"Xavier—"
"I need to know what I can feel. What gets through the numbness." He caught her hand, bringing it back to his chest. "Touch me, starlight. Everywhere. I need—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching.
She understood. He needed to feel *something*. Needed to find where the sensation broke through. Needed her.
Slowly, deliberately, she moved closer. Her hand slid from his chest to his neck, fingers tracing his jawline. His eyes fluttered closed.
"Can you feel that?" she whispered.
"Pressure. Shape. Not texture."
She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "And that?"
"Same."
Her lips traveled to his ear, and she felt him shiver. Encouraged, she whispered his name directly into his ear. "Xavier..."
That did it.
His eyes snapped open, blazing with intensity, and before she could draw breath, he'd moved. One hand caught her shoulder, the other her hip, and he pushed her down into the mattress, his body covering hers.
"Starlight," he growled, his mouth finding her jaw, kissing and biting with barely restrained hunger. "Say it again."
"Xavier—"
His teeth found her earlobe, nibbling gently before his tongue traced the shell of her ear. "I felt that," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "Your voice in my ear. It got through somehow."
"Maybe because it's not just physical," she breathed. "Maybe—ah!—maybe it's because you know it's me?"
"Maybe." His hands were already working at her clothes, pulling her tank top over her head. "Let's test that theory properly."
"What—"
"A taste test." His lips curved into something predatory as he stripped her efficiently. "I want you to explore. Use your mouth. See what I can actually taste. What gets through this goddamn numbness."
Her breath caught. "You want me to—"
"Touch me. Taste me. Use me however you want." He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. "I need to feel *something*, starlight. And if anyone can break through this, it's you."
She straddled his waist, her hands tentative on his chest. "Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
Slowly, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chest. His muscles tensed beneath her lips, and she felt his sharp intake of breath.
"Anything?" she asked.
"More than before. Again."
She kissed lower, trailing her lips across his ribs, his abdomen. With each kiss, she felt his breathing grow more ragged, his hands flexing on her hips.
"It's working," he ground out. "I can feel more. Faint, but there. Keep going."
Emboldened, she moved lower, pressing kisses along the defined V of his hips. His cock strained against his sweatpants, and when she ghosted her lips over it through the fabric, he actually groaned.
"Fuck—yes—I felt that."
She looked up at him through her lashes. "Should I—"
"Please."
She helped him remove his pants and boxers, and then he was bare before her, his cock hard and flushed and straining toward her.
"I need to know," he said, his voice tight. "Need to know if I can feel your mouth on me. If I can taste you when you—" He cut off as she wrapped her hand around him.
"Like this?"
"Yes—god—I can feel the pressure but not—not enough—use your mouth, starlight. Please."
She leaned down and licked a stripe up his length, and his whole body went rigid.
"*There*," he hissed. "Wet and warm and—do it again."
She did, taking her time, exploring him with her tongue while he trembled beneath her. When she finally took him into her mouth, his hand flew to her hair.
"Fuck—Nana—I can feel that. Not as much as I should, but I can feel it."
She worked him slowly, taking him deeper, using everything she knew he loved. His hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more, and the sounds he made were desperate, almost pained.
"Not enough," he ground out after several minutes. "I can feel it but it's not—I need—"
He pulled her off him and flipped their positions in one smooth motion, caging her beneath him. His eyes were wild, desperate.
"I need to be inside you," he said bluntly. "Need to know if I can feel that. Need to chase whatever sensation I can get."
"Then take me," she whispered.
He didn't need to be told twice. His fingers found her center, testing, and he groaned when he found her wet and ready.
"At least I'm not the only one affected," he muttered, positioning himself at her entrance. "Ready?"
"Always."
He pushed inside in one long thrust, and they both moaned. He stilled once fully seated, his forehead dropping to hers.
"I can feel it," he breathed. "It's muted but I can feel you around me. Hot and tight and perfect."
"Then move," she urged. "Take what you need."
He did. He set a deep, grinding pace, each thrust deliberate, like he was trying to feel every inch of her. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring himself.
"More," he muttered. "Need more. Need to feel more."
His hand slid between them to find her clit, and even though he couldn't feel the wetness properly, he knew her body well enough to know exactly where to touch.
"Come for me," he commanded. "I need to feel you squeeze me. Need to know if that gets through."
His fingers worked expertly, and combined with the relentless thrust of his hips, she was helpless. Her orgasm crashed over her with a cry of his name, her body clenching rhythmically around him.
"*Fuck*—yes—I feel that," Xavier groaned, his pace becoming erratic. "Finally—finally something strong enough—"
He came with a shuddering groan, spilling inside her. But even as aftershocks wracked his body, she could see the frustration in his eyes.
"Still not enough," he said, already moving again despite having just finished. "I came but I barely felt it. The release was there but the pleasure—" He cursed in frustration.
"Xavier—"
"Again," he said, his hips already finding rhythm. "I need to do it again. And again. Until I can finally *feel* it properly."
And he did. He took her twice more in quick succession, his stamina enhanced by the lack of sensation that would normally exhaust him. Each time, he chased the muted pleasure desperately, trying to break through the numbness.
After the third round, when she was trembling and oversensitive and he was still hard inside her, she caught his face in her hands.
"Xavier, stop. You need to rest—"
"I can't." His voice was raw. "I can feel you better than anything else, but it's still not enough. I need—"
"I know what you need." She kissed him softly. "But you're going to hurt yourself trying to force it. The doctor said it would wear off in a day or two. We can wait."
"I don't want to wait. I want to feel you now."
"You are feeling me. Maybe not the way you're used to, but I'm here. I'm real. And I'm not going anywhere."
He buried his face in her neck, his breathing ragged. "It's torture. Being this close to you but not being able to feel you properly."
"Then let me hold you." She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair the way he loved. "Let me be here with you until it passes."
Slowly, reluctantly, he relaxed against her. His body was still tense with frustration, but he stopped trying to chase sensation through desperation.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to be so—"
"You have nothing to apologize for." She pressed a kiss to his temple. "You were scared and frustrated and trying to find your way back to me. I understand."
"I love you," he said quietly. "Even if I can't feel it properly right now, I love you."
"I love you too." She tightened her arms around him. "And tomorrow, or the day after, when this wears off, I'm going to let you feel everything. Every touch, every kiss, every sensation you've been missing."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
He finally pulled out and collapsed beside her, immediately pulling her against his chest. His hand found hers, lacing their fingers together.
"Stay with me," he said. "Until I can feel again."
"Always," she promised.
And she did. She stayed wrapped in his arms as the sun set and the room grew dark. She stayed as his breathing eventually evened out, exhaustion finally winning over frustration. She stayed because he was her Xavier—mafia boss, killer, Shen devil's—but also just a man who needed to feel his wife's touch.
And when he woke the next morning with sensation slowly returning, the first thing he felt was her hand in his.
And it was perfect.
⭐⭐⭐