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Blood drips from Bass’s skin in a slow river. I stare at the pinkish, brackish water washing down into the drain before raising my eyes along his body.

There are scars on his thighs. I’ve never noticed them before. I step into the shower stall and he watches, his cock half-stiff as he looks at my naked body. I touch the puckered flesh. “How did these happen?”

“Burns,” he says. “My father had a lieutenant who thought it made the boys stronger.”

“Oh, God, that’s awful.”

“I volunteered.” His smile is bitter. “I wanted them to think I was tough.”

“Did it work?”

“You tell me.” He takes my hand and guides it along his body. “Do I seem tough to you?” My fingers graze along his stiffness, touching his dick gently, but he keeps going. I touch his belly button, his ripped abs.

There are more scars. Each has a story and I wonder if he knows them all by heart or if they’re only a part of a constellation of pain and suffering. The web of memory that is his life, most of it forgotten and gone now. We rebuild what we are every time we remember, and sometimes we change, we shift what those memories are, until the past is only ever a warped mirror.

My fingers trace muscle, tattoos, until they stop at his lips. He kisses them softly, tugging me forward, wrapping my hand around until I’m cradling the back of his neck.

It’s my turn. I pull him down and meet his mouth with mine.

The kiss is long. I don’t care if he’s still got blood on him. Water sprays over our skin, warm, steam rising. I press my breasts to his chest, feeling his cock get harder between us. I whimper at how stiff he gets and how wet I feel.

“Isn’t it wrong?” I whisper, pausing as I reach down with one hand to grasp the base of his cock. “We shouldn’t be doing this, right? Not when Cruz is suffering?”

“There’s no better time.” His forehead presses to mine as I stroke his length slowly. “Can you say tomorrow’s guaranteed? Right now, with things the way they are, can you promise we’ll have enough time together?”

“No.” My other hand moves to his chest. His heart is steady and it gives me hope. “But I want more time.”

“I want all the time in the world. I want forever. I could stay right here until the sun swallows the earth, and that still wouldn’t be enough.”

“I never knew you were so poetic.”

“I didn’t either.”

I reach down with my other hand. I grasp him with both. “Do I bring the best out of you?”

“God, yes.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m stroking your dick.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true—” He groans when I drop to my knees. “And because you’re stroking my dick.”

I lick him slowly, swirling my tongue, before taking him into my mouth.

His groans are music. His fingers slip through my hair tightly. I suck him slow, tasting him and loving the way he moans and whispers how good it feels, how beautiful I am. I spread my legs, spit rolling down his shaft, rinsing into the bloody water. His body’s perfection and gore, it’s heaven and death, and I’ve never loved anything so much in my life.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispers, voice husky with lust. “Sucking my cock like you love it.”

I slurp and lick, pull back, and gasp, stroking as I look him in the eye. “I do love it.”

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Good.” I suck him fast, teasing and mean. One hand squeezes my tits to make him more excited.

“Baby.” He pulls me back with a gasp. “I’m going to come on your pretty tongue.”

“Why my tongue? Why not all over my tits?”

“Fuck, Mari. You dirty girl.”