New desires

Anger rises in you at the realisation. The quiet pieces lock into place: the months of cold distance, the careful rejections, the way Natasha started turning away long before the office tensions with Cheryl ever peaked. Ruby has been feeding it, shaping it, using every competitive moment and every late meeting to make herself the one who still wanted Natasha when you apparently did not.

Shame follows close behind the anger. Shame that your own frustration and the games with Cheryl made it so easy. Shame that you never looked harder at the silence in your own house. The shame twists, unwanted and sharp, and turns into something else entirely.

Desire.

Your cock hardens fast and heavy in your trousers while you watch Ruby’s mouth stay buried between Natasha’s thighs. The thick length presses insistently against the fabric. Without thinking you reach down and rearrange yourself, trying to ease the sudden pressure, the movement small but unmistakable in the dark hallway.

You stay where you are, hand still resting against the front of your trousers, eyes fixed on the soft, wet rhythm unfolding on the kitchen counter. The desire sits there alongside the anger and the shame, strong enough that the next choice feels dangerously close.