So Screwed

Steam filled the ensuite in thick rolling waves, fogging the mirrors and softening the edges of everything around him. Water hammered steadily against Evan's shoulders, hot enough to sting slightly, though not nearly enough to quiet his thoughts.

Or his body.

One hand braced against the tiled wall while the other finished the job he'd retreated in there to do. Shame sat heavy in his chest even as relief slowly spread through his muscles. The erection that had tormented him since waking finally began to ease, though not completely. With Stacy so close at mind, Evan's arousal refused to let go, a side effect of the potion's magic.

The final shudder rolled through him before post-orgasmic exhaustion followed close behind. Evan leaned forward beneath the spray, forehead resting briefly against cool tile as water streamed down his face and chest.

Holy shit.

Every second of it had been Stacy, from the moment he turned on the shower to the moment he finally came. Not just vague impressions either. Clear images. Her mouth. Her eyes. The feel of her hands on him. The sound she'd made when he'd stopped her. Every thought circled back to her no matter how hard he tried to **** his mind elsewhere.

It was becoming impossible to separate arousal from Stacy entirely.

Think about Stacy? Get hard.

Get hard? Think about Stacy.

Round and round and round.

A vicious little loop stitched directly into his brain by Madame Ruth's nightmare potion.

Another frustrated groan slipped from his throat as he dragged both hands down his face. He still couldn't fully process what had happened in the bedroom. Not just the blowjob. God, even thinking the word sent heat crawling back into his stomach. No, the truly disturbing part had been everything around it. The way she'd looked at him. The way she'd argued. The way she'd clung to him afterward like he was taking something away from her instead of protecting her.

"Baby..."

The memory hit so vividly that Evan physically winced.

Stacy had never spoken to him like that before. Never softened her voice around him. Never sounded needy or **** or affectionate. Before the potion, most conversations between them had felt like negotiations at best and open hostility at worst.

She'd been cold. Sharp. Critical. Every mistake he'd ever made somehow became proof that he was immature or irresponsible or not good enough for his father. Living with Stacy had often felt like existing beside someone perpetually disappointed by his presence.

And now she'd been kneeling between his legs looking at him like he hung the moon.

The contrast made his stomach twist.

Water streamed down his face as another memory surfaced uninvited. Her expression after he'd pulled away. The hurt in her eyes. The way her voice cracked when she'd asked if they could continue "just this once."

For one awful moment, Evan had almost given in. Not because of the sex. Okay, partially because of the sex. Stacy was gorgeous. Anyone with functioning eyesight knew that. Blonde hair, perfect body, lips that apparently felt...

"Nope," he muttered aloud immediately, trying to fight off arousal.

Because her body wasn't the dangerous part. The dangerous part had been hearing her cry.

That sound had followed him into the bathroom harder than any sexual fantasy. The heartbreak in her voice. The way she'd curled inward after he'd rejected her. God, he'd made Stacy cry. If somebody had told him a week ago that hurting Stacy emotionally would tear him apart inside, he would've laughed in their face.

Back then he probably would've considered it karma. Now? Now it felt like he'd kicked a wounded animal. And worse, part of him desperately wanted to go back out there and fix it.

"I'll make it worth your while."

Evan groaned again, louder this time, letting the front of his head thunk lightly against tile. What the hell did that even mean? His imagination, unfortunately, had several very enthusiastic answers ready immediately.

Images flashed through his head faster than he could stop them. Stacy pulling him back into bed. Stacy climbing into his lap. Stacy kissing him with that hungry look she'd had this morning. Soft lingerie barely covering...

"Damnit."

Movement below drew his attention immediately. Unbelievable. He looked down at himself in disbelief as arousal began building all over again, his penis getting harder and harder.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Apparently one orgasm wasn't enough to overpower magically-enhanced stepmother issues.

Fantastic.

With a deep sigh, Evan reached down again and took his cock into his hand, already knowing resistance was pointless. The moment Stacy entered his head like that, his body stopped listening to reason entirely. He hated how automatic it felt now. Like some switch inside him had been rewired overnight.

At least this time guilt settled in faster alongside the arousal. Because no matter how badly he wanted her, no matter how incredible this morning could've become if he'd just stopped resisting...

He'd made a promise.

And for all the chaos the potion had caused, for all the stupid impulsive mistakes that had shattered both their lives, Evan still had control over one thing: his choices.

Stacy had asked him to help her fight this. Asked him to stop her when things went too far. Maybe the potion was changing her feelings. Maybe it was changing his too. But somebody had to remember that this wasn't normal. Somebody had to keep track of the lines even while reality itself kept trying to erase them.

If that responsibility fell on him, then fine. He'd carry it. Even if it meant denying himself every fantasy his nineteen-year-old brain desperately wanted to indulge.

Another image surfaced immediately afterward anyway.

Stacy kneeling on the bed. Hair falling over one shoulder. Eyes locked onto his while she took him into her mouth...

"DAMNIT."

His grip tightened reflexively as his body surged harder again.

This was getting ridiculous.

At this rate he was going to spend half his day trapped in bathrooms trying not to think about his magically-altered wife. He couldn't exactly disappear from lectures every forty-five minutes because an intrusive thought about Stacy bending over the kitchen counter suddenly hijacked his nervous system.

And the really horrifying part? Part of him suspected the potion wouldn't stop escalating. Today's blowjob would become tomorrow's something else. More affection. More dependency. More pressure. Every day the magic pushed harder, rewrote deeper, blurred another boundary.

Meanwhile Evan's own resistance felt thinner every morning he woke up beside her. Because despite everything...

Despite the guilt.

Despite the panic.

Despite knowing this relationship had been stolen into existence...

Lying in bed with Stacy had felt good. Safe. Right. The thought alone sent another pulse of arousal through him.

For a long moment Evan simply stood there beneath the spray, eyes closed, breathing hard while hot water poured endlessly over him. Then finally, aroused beyond words, he muttered quietly to himself:

"I'm so screwed."