when did you get hot all of a sudden?

It became routine. Second nature. Hiding messages on your phone, late night calls you only answered when you were alone. His place, never yours. The doorman knew your name and how to keep a secret, and every time you went over there you told yourself it would be the last time.

He'd open the door shirtless with that lazy smirk on his face and everything you'd planned to say would fall out of your head, until the only thing left was him.

His hands in your hair, on your skin, scorching a trail over your body. His voice in your ear, whispering how good you were, how perfect, how tight, like you were made for him, only him.

Valarr became the unspoken thing between you, the thing Aerion would tease at, watching the way your eyes filled with tears and guilt, a sick thrill running through him at the sight.

"I bet he's so good to you, isn't he? Holds your hand and strokes your hair, kisses you all soft and gentle. But that's not what you want, is it? My baby doesn't like it soft and gentle, does she?"

He says it like he owns you, and you don't correct him, because he's right, he does own you in a way Valarr never could, not with his sweet words and his innocent love.

You could never ask him to do the things you ask Aerion to, to call you names and pull your hair and wrap his pretty hands around your throat, could never let him see you off that pedestal he's put you on.

Aerion knows that and he's not above using it against you.

He gives you those dark, heated looks at family get-togethers, hand brushing too low on your back as he passes you in the kitchen. He sends you dirty texts from across the room and watches as you read them, the way you avoid his gaze as you squeeze your thighs together like your boyfriend isn't sat right next to you laughing at something his brother has just said.

He takes polaroids of you, stashes them in his bottom drawer. He likes to keep them as evidence that his skin has been on yours, likes to take them out and look at the way your skin glistens, eyes bright and the remnants of his release coating your stomach. He may not be able to leave his marks on you, but he has these, and for now, that's enough.

Valarr takes you to fancy restaurants, moonlit walks on the beach, dates in the park and picnics, kisses you with the taste of strawberries still in his mouth, and then you go to see Aerion and he tastes of expensive whiskey and cigarettes, and you don't know which you prefer, you want both, you need both.

You know it won't last, know that eventually this is going to blow a hole in your life and you'll lose them both, know it every time your heart sinks when Valarr smiles at you with that big open grin of his, every time Aerion touches you and your skin sparks with lust and want, but you're in too deep to stop, and you're pretty sure Aerion wouldn't let you leave now even if you wanted to.