*As Ethan's lips crush against Sasha's, his hands continue their exploration of her body. He tugs at her clothes impatiently, his movements rough and demanding. Sasha tries to resist at first, pushing weakly against his chest, but soon she finds herself responding to his kisses, her own hands clutching at his shirt.*
*Ethan breaks the kiss suddenly, pulling back to look at Sasha with a smirk. "Still want me to stop?" he asks mockingly, knowing full well that she doesn't.*
*Sasha bites her lip, a flush creeping up her neck as she shakes her head silently. Ethan chuckles darkly, his hands gripping the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head in one swift motion.*
*The abandoned house falls silent except for the sounds of their labored breathing and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. In the dim light filtering through the cracked windows, their bodies move together in a dance as old as time itself.
*The night wears on, and Ethan and Sasha's encounter grows increasingly intense and heated. Ethan's touch becomes more possessive, his kisses more demanding as he seeks to reclaim what he believes is his. Sasha submits to him, her body arching into his touch even as she claws at his back, marking him as hers.*
*As they reach the peak of their passion, the abandoned house shakes with the force of their releases. They collapse against each other, sweat-soaked and panting, their hearts racing in sync.*
*But even in the aftermath of their intense lovemaking, a tension lingers between them. Sasha knows that Ethan's anger and jealousy have driven this encounter, not love. And Ethan... Ethan realizes that despite his attempts to possess Sasha completely, a part of him is still distracted by thoughts of you.
*As the reality of their actions settles in, Ethan pulls away from Sasha, his expression unreadable. He begins to gather his scattered clothes, avoiding her gaze.*
*"You should go," he says gruffly, not bothering to hide the coldness in his voice.*
*Sasha stares at him, disbelief and hurt flashing across her face. She pulls her own clothes on with shaking hands, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.*
*"Is that it?" she asks, her voice trembling. "You're just going to use me and throw me away?"
*Ethan's jaw clenches, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "I used you?" he scoffs. "You're the one who cheated on me."
*Sasha's face contorts with anger and frustration. "I messed up, okay? I'm sorry!" she cries. "But you... you're acting like this is nothing."
*Ethan finally meets her gaze, his eyes hard and unyielding. "It is nothing," he says coldly. "It never was."
*Sasha's face crumples at Ethan's cold words, tears spilling down her cheeks. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. Instead, she turns and runs out of the abandoned house, the sound of her sobs echoing through the night.*
*Ethan watches her go, his expression unreadable. Once she's gone, he sinks down onto the floor, burying his face in his hands.*
*"What the fuck am I doing?" he mutters to himself, his voice muffled. "This isn't what I wanted."*
*But even as he says it, he knows it's a lie. This is exactly what he wanted - to hurt Sasha like she hurt him.
*The truth is, Ethan is confused and hurting. He thought that by confronting Sasha and taking his revenge, he would feel better. He thought it would ease the pain of her betrayal. But all it's done is leave him feeling emptier than before.*
*As he sits there on the cold floor of the abandoned house, Ethan's thoughts drift to you. He remembers the way you kissed him, the way you challenged him and stood up to him. For the first time in a long time, he feels something other than anger and resentment.*
*"Fuck," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I need to get out of here."*
*He stands up abruptly, grabbing his clothes and dressing quickly.
*With a final glance around the abandoned house, Ethan steps out into the cool night air. The stars above seem to mock him with their steadfast constancy, a stark contrast to the chaos of his own life.*
*He begins to walk, not really caring where he's going. His mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of Sasha, of you, of the mess he's made of everything.*
*"I need a drink," he mutters to himself, spotting a nearby bar. Without hesitation, he pushes open the door and steps inside, grateful for the dim lighting and the buzz of conversations that promise to drown out his thoughts.*
*The bar is relatively empty at this hour, just a few regulars nursing their drinks in quiet corners. Ethan takes a seat at the counter and orders a whiskey, neat. He downs it in one gulp and signals for another.*
*The bartender raises an eyebrow but complies silently, sliding another glass towards him. Ethan wraps his fingers around it, staring into its amber depths as if searching for answers.*
*"You look like you've had a rough night," a voice says beside him. Ethan glances over to see an older man sitting next to him, his eyes weary but kind.*
*Ethan shrugs, taking another sip of his whiskey. "You could say that," he says bitterly. "My girlfriend cheated on me. Or ex-girlfriend, I guess." He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head.*
*The old man nods sagely. "Ah, the perils of love," he murmurs. "It's a cruel mistress indeed." He takes a sip of his own drink, a beer with a thick head of foam.*
*"But you know what they say," he continues after a moment. "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." He gives Ethan a pointed look, his eyes sharp despite their age.*
*"Easy for you to say," Ethan retorts, defensive. "You're not the one who just had their heart ripped out and stomped on."
*The old man chuckles softly. "No, I'm not. But I've been there before. More than once." He leans back in his chair, staring at Ethan thoughtfully.*
*"The thing about heartbreak is that it changes us," he says slowly. "It can make us bitter and resentful if we let it. Or it can make us stronger, more compassionate."
*The old man leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But here's a secret," he says, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sometimes, the real healing comes not from forgetting the pain, but from finding someone new to share it with."
*He winks at Ethan, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Someone who sees through the anger and the resentment, who understands the hurt underneath. Someone who challenges you, who makes you feel alive again."
*Ethan stares at the old man, taken aback by his words. He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, he takes another gulp of his whiskey, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction.*
*"You're talking about her," he says finally, his voice low and rough. "The girl who stood up to me today. The one who kissed me and then walked away like it was nothing."*
*The old man nods sagely. "Sounds like she's got a fire in her," he says approvingly. "The kind that can either consume you or warm you from within."*
*Ethan shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "She's nothing like Sasha," he insists. "She's... different." His brows furrow as he tries to put his feelings into words.*
*"She doesn't worship the ground I walk on," he continues after a moment.
"She sees me for who I really am," Ethan admits reluctantly. "And instead of running away or throwing herself at me like everyone else does, she pushes back. She challenges me." His eyes take on a faraway look as he remembers your kiss, the way you tasted, the way you felt in his arms.*
*The old man smiles gently. "Sounds like she might just be the one to heal that broken heart of yours," he says softly. "But it's up to you whether you let her in."
*Ethan stares into his whiskey, contemplating the old man's words. A part of him wants to deny it, to push away the idea that he needs anyone, least of all someone as frustrating and infuriating as you.*
*But another part of him, a part he's been trying to ignore, knows that the old man is right. That maybe, just maybe, you're exactly what he needs.*
*"Fuck,"
*Ethan's mind is racing, the old man's words echoing in his head as he finishes his whiskey and throws some cash on the counter. He stands up abruptly, nearly knocking over his stool in the process.*
*"I need to go," he mutters, more to himself than to the old man. "I need to see her."*
*The old man nods understandingly, a knowing smile on his face. "Go get her," he says encouragingly. "But don't mess it up this time."*
*Ethan gives him a curt nod before turning and rushing out of the bar, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he's acting impulsively, that he should probably sleep on it or at least wait until morning.*
*But he can't shake the feeling that if he doesn't go to you now, he might lose his nerve. That you might slip through his fingers like sand, leaving him alone with nothing but regrets.*