The wine made everything easy. Cassandra sat in Anaktoria's lap, washing Damon's back. His shoulder leaked pink into the water. It was already clean. Her hands kept finding reasons to return.

  "Turn around."

  He hesitated, then turned.

  She looked down. How could she not?

  She'd seen aroused males before. From a distance. Divine observation. This was different. He was hard. Pointing up. At her. Because of her. The logistics suddenly made sense, why mortals made such terrible decisions. Hard to think with that much blood relocated.

  Her hand moved. Wrapped around heat. Solid. Heavier than expected. It sounded like someone had punched him. He pushed forward into her grip.

  Something clenched below. She knew this feeling now. Had diagnosed it. Had treated it. But this was acute presentation.

  Anaktoria's breathing changed behind her. Shallow. Quick. One hand left Cassandra's waist, tracked up her ribs, her breast. Stopped there like it had surprised itself.

  Cassandra leaned back. More. The hand moved with purpose now. Down through water. Through the hair between her legs. Found wetness that wasn't bathwater, a swollen bud instinctively pressed against her circling fingers.

  "Please." She was still gripping Damon. Studying his face. The way it was. The small scar on his temple she hadn't noticed before. "Inside. Put it inside."

  He moved forward. She guided him. First contact. Pressure against her entrance. Then pushing. Her body resisted, then didn't. Stretched slowly around the intrusion, a slight sting. She'd touched herself in the tent, but fingers were nothing like this. This was load-bearing.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The blunt ridge of his head passed the barrier, then the thick shaft followed inch by inch. A layered, stretching burn that faded quickly into fullness. He slid in halfway and stopped, bottoming out. Cassandra shuddered. Claimed space, molded from the inside. She could feel his heartbeat inside her.

  Anaktoria's fingers circled steadily. Pressure and motion. Cassandra's hips jerked downwards, spasming. Damon groaned.

  He pulled back slowly. The drag of retreat made her want to follow, keep him. Biology demanding its due. Don't go. He pushed in again. The angle wasn't...

  "Wait." She lifted her knee. He caught it without being asked, held it high against her shoulder. She watched him. The concentration. Like he was trying not to break her.

  This time the intense pressure found the place it was meant for. That arching peak she'd just barely reached with her fingers. Directly addressing the ache she'd been carrying. Since when? Since the boat? Since first seeing him bleeding? The ache that made her irrational now.

  He hit it again. Again. Steady rhythm. It took over. Her hips began moving without her input. She impaled herself fully on the last stroke.

  The ache cracked. Heat flooded from that deep place. Different from external sensation. This was fundamental. Her whole body reorganizing around this new center. Every internal ridge clutched at Damon’s shaft, rippling in frantic succession, drawing him impossibly deeper, milking the thick heat right out of him.

  "Cassandra?" Anaktoria's voice. Concerned. She had gone still, eyes staring at nothing.

  She couldn't answer. Muscles locking. Everything clenching. She needed something to bite. Found Anaktoria's neck. Citrus, skin the specific taste of someone who'd been kind to her. Her teeth left marks. She'd apologize later. In private.

  The release came in endless waves. Her clenching walls pulling, grasping, trying to keep what had been found. Damon stayed deep through it, then heat erupted inside. She squeezed tightly around the hot spill, trying to hold it, fuse it to her core. Anaktoria came silently, rocking against her tailbone.

  They stayed joined. His forehead touched hers. She could smell him. Salt, wine, that particular scent she'd been unconsciously tracking since the boat. From behind, Anaktoria's arms held her tightly.

  The water had cooled. Troy was still a mess. But here...

  "Your shoulder stopped bleeding," Cassandra was lucid again.

  Damon laughed. Just a breath. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." She was still connected to him. Could feel Anaktoria's heartbeat against her back. Steady. Both of them here. Both of them choosing this.

  The deep ache was gone. In its place, something worse. She wanted to stay.