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“I’ll show you ‘fuck you’.” He starts fucking me harder, the sound of our bodies meeting again and again ringing out in the bathroom.

Pleasure surges through me, and I have to bite down hard on my lip to keep quiet. I barely have any warning when the first crest of my orgasm bears down on me, but before I know it I’m coming apart, clenching around his cock and flying over the edge.

But Ares doesn’t stop. He’s worked up enough that he doesn’t have that much control. He keeps fucking me, keeps slamming his cock into me. “I’m not done with you yet,” he says. “You’re going to come for me again.”

“A-Ares,” I manage to say. “Fuck, it’s too⁠—”

“Again.”

He works his hips, hitting that spot inside me that makes me whine. I’m already sensitive from coming once, but Ares doesn’t seem to care. He stays on that spot, grinding the head of his cock into it like he can make me come on command.

Maybe he can. I can already feel the heat rising again, taking my breath away and leaving me trembling right there in his arms.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Just incoherent sounds of pleasure as I slam into another orgasm for him, unable to hold it back.

This one seems to wring pleasure out of me, and Ares hisses as I go tight as a vise around his cock. It’s a good thing he’s holding me up, or I would be on the floor right now.

My chest heaves as I suck in air. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. It’s so⁠—”

“I want another one,” Ares declares.

I stare at him, but his hips are still going. I can tell from the way the rhythm is stuttering that he’s close himself, but he doesn’t let up.

My body is one raw nerve now, one live wire that sparks at the slightest touch. Ares reaches down between us and thumbs my clit, and my whole body jolts against him.

“Ares,” I groan. “Ares, Ares, Ares.”

“One more. I know you’ve got it in you, and I fucking want it.” He’s breathless himself now, his eyes blazing as he fucks into me.

I wish I could tell him that he’s wrong, that I don’t have anything left for him, but I can already feel it. The sparks of pleasure, the building heat.

Impossibly, I’m about to come again for him, and when I do, it’s with a low, ragged whimper as my body gives into his demand.

He follows me over the edge this time, grunting as he chases his own pleasure. He buries himself in me all the way to the hilt, and I can feel the heat as he finishes. I end up slumped against him, just trying to remember how to function.

We cling to each other, breathing hard and trying to come down from the waves of pleasure. His arms feel good around me, and his body is so familiar. Solid and safe. Or at least it used to be safe. Now I don’t know what it is anymore.

I push at his chest again, trying to move him. “Let me go,” I pant. The last thing I want is to feel him going closed off and tense again. I can’t take that.

Ares obeys, but I can tell he doesn’t want to.

I busy myself with putting my clothes back on and trying to fix my hair, so it’s less immediately obvious what we were doing in here. Ares gets dressed too, but he keeps looking at me like he wants something.

“What?” I ask.

“About what you said. You have OCD? Are you struggling?”

I swallow hard, looking away. “It’s fine, Ares. We don’t have to talk about this.”

“Yes, we do. I want to know what’s going on.” It sounds like he means it, and I really have no idea what to do with that. It’s not something that I tell people about. It’s embarrassing, having to deal with something like this, when I’m supposed to be put together and in control of myself and my life.

But the look on his face is open and honest, so I sigh.

“Yes, okay? I have it and it always pops up at the worst times. This trip has been shit because everything keeps going wrong, and I can’t control or predict any of it. So it’s been a little worse than usual. There, now you know how broken I am.”

Ares shakes his head. “Brynn, you are not broken,” he says. His voice is soft, and the look on his face is tender. There’s a warmth there that I haven’t seen from him in a long time.

It makes my heart ache. I wish this could be what we always had, this warmth and care. I wish he hadn’t rejected me all those years ago and removed himself from life. I want to lean into him, into all this softness and support that he’s offering at the moment. But I don’t know if it’s real. I don’t know how long it’s going to last before he shuts me out again.