We all have them, me and the Havoc Boys.

“I can’t decide if I’d rather taste your cunt or look into your eyes,” he murmurs, putting his forehead to mine. It’s a racy statement, but it’s said with such affection that I’m not really sure what to do. “I could spend all day worshipping your body, Bern. I want to get to know you all over again, search you until I could map every inch, every tattoo, every scar.”

I suck in a sharp breath as he drops his hands to my jeans, popping the button and unzipping the fly.

“I’d like that,” I start, feeling that strange rawness in my soul again. Aaron is like an antidote for bullshit. He looks at me like I’m not wearing a leather jacket, like I’m not tattooed, like my tough-as-nails persona isn’t a shield against him the way it is for everyone else. He can see past it all, right into the soul of his first love, his first time, his … girl. “Just maybe not in a public restroom, okay?”

Aaron laughs, and the sound is easily the most genuine of all the boys. His girls have given him that gift, allowed him to keep true joy in his heart somewhere. It might be just a pinprick in the black cavern that makes up his chest, but it’s there nonetheless.

“Mm, fair point.” He curls his fingertips under the waistband of my jeans and kisses me at the same time, savoring the moment, dragging it out until I’m squirming and he’s chuckling against my lips. “Okay, okay, I get it. You want my dick.”

“Keep talking like that, and there is no reunion of bodies, Aaron Fadler.” I’m soaked in sweat already, my heart pounding so loud that I can’t hear the chattering of students in the dining room anymore. No, it’s just me and Aaron now, just the two of us, like it used to be.

He slides my jeans down my hips, knocking one of my boots off so he can slip my right leg out. He doesn’t bother to remove my pants entirely, not here, not with graffiti on the walls and flickering fluorescent lights above us.

Still, even with the less than perfect surroundings, I’m not sure that Aaron’s ever looked more beautiful to me. He shoves my jeans out of his way and then steps up close to me again, undoing his own pants. When he takes that beautiful inked cock of his into his hand, my lips part and my eyes flick from his dick to his face.

I almost tell him not to use the condom; I want us skin to skin. But at some point, I need to start taking responsibility for myself, for the possibility of a future beyond the immediacy of my own base needs.

Aaron puts the condom on, slicking it over his cock and then grabbing me by the ass. He holds me easily in his big hands, lifting me up off the counter and then slamming us into the wall next to the bathroom door.

My fingers dig into the back of his hair as he thrusts in, hard and deep, filling me up in one go. For a split-second, neither of us moves, readjusting to each other, letting muscle memory remind us that we were once lovers.

Then Aaron starts to fuck me.

I’m surprised by the wild rapidity of his thrusts, by how desperately he holds me, clings to me. I start to get lightheaded, my breathing shallow, like I can’t possibly take in too much air or there won’t be room for Aaron. He’s inside of me in more ways than one, taking over me, diving deep.

My eyes close and I groan, the sound echoing around the room. Outside the door, I can faintly hear the other Prescott students laughing. Maybe at us, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Not like they’re going to anything to my face.

Aaron is driving into me so hard that I ache in the best possible way. There isn’t an inch of me that he doesn’t rub against, brush against, touch. He’s rubbing against me at the same time he’s thrusting, nuzzling my neck, kissing me, making sure I’m really here, that he’s really inside of me, that we’re really together.

“Oh, Bernie, I missed you,” he murmurs, slowing down. Aaron leans back to look into my eyes, slowing the movement of his hips slightly. In and out, in and out. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, a desperate sort of affection that I want to see him fight for. But later. Later. Right now, I just want him to touch me, press his body to mine, crawl inside my soul.

We stay like that for a while, stuck in an unbroken rhythm that might as well be torture for my overheated body. I’m soaking wet now, probably drenching Aaron’s thighs. Doesn’t matter though. That’s the best part, I think, the mess of it. Sex isn’t supposed to be pretty. It’s too wild, too base, but it also keeps you grounded.

We are souls having a worldly experience, but we are also human.

My body clamps around Aaron, pulsing against him, making him groan as he takes my mouth with his, murdering my inhibitions. My first orgasm is easy and slow, like a lazy star streaking across a night sky. It makes my stomach muscles clench, the pressure in my spine unfurling like a flower.

Aaron, though, he doesn’t just let me enjoy it.

No.

Something changes when he sees my face like that, my shields down, my inhibitions stripped raw. His expression shifts, old anger surging into him. Aaron moves away from the wall and drops me to my feet while I’m still shaking and struggling to catch my breath.

He spins me around and then uses a palm on my lower back to shove me over the counter.

He enters me again with a violent thrust and I bite my lower lip, fingernails digging into the countertop as he rams into me, balls slapping, the sound of it taking over the room. I’m drowning in that sound, the noise of our lust.

He made love to me … now he’s hate-fucking me.

And I love it.

Arching my back, I press into Aaron, moving my own hips so that we make a pretty little push and pull, our moans mingling together. Mostly, I keep my eyes closed. Because I want to feel Aaron, not see him. I watched him for years, dated him, lost him, watched him again. I’ve done plenty of looking and I’m sick of it.

His fingers wrap my hair and pull my head back but still, I keep my eyes closed. I can feel the fingers of his other hand grabbing my hip, bruising, squeezing. Aaron powers into me, fast and hard and furious, until his muscles clench up and I feel his body tightening behind me.

With a desperate groan of relief, he spills himself while still trapped inside of me. After a few, final thrusts, he releases my hair and I lean my cheek down against the countertop for a moment. My body is still throbbing, but I don’t care. It was so worth it.

Before I can stand up though, I feel the air shift around me as he pulls out and then crouches down behind me. The heat of his breath brushes against my pussy just before he makes contact with his lips. His hands slide up my bare thighs and he holds me in place as he dips his tongue into my sweet honey.

Shit.

Aaron is just as good as Hael, but in a different way. Hael is slick, easygoing, confident to the point of arrogance. I could feel all of that in his tongue. Aaron, though, he’s more concerned with seeking out my specific pockets of pleasure, two fingers borrowing lube from my pussy to slide across my clit.

He takes his time, too, despite our current situation, working me with his mouth until I’m crying out, slamming one of my palms into the mirror and coming hard against his lips. Also, I probably soaked the shit out of his face.

We sit there for exactly six breaths before Aaron stands up, and I lift my head to stare in the mirror, my eyes locking with Aaron’s in the reflection. It’s spotty, the glass twisted and warped in spots, but I can still see what’s important: Aaron, me, and our feelings for each other.