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It starts like most disasters do: with Janine acting righteous.
She’d parked crooked, halfway into Ava’s spot like it was a goddamn protest, and Ava’s not built to let that go. Not when the sun’s hot, her heels are sharper than her patience, and Janine is standing there with her hands on her hips like she’s just dared Ava to do something about it.
"You need a lesson in basic geometry," Ava says, sunglasses still on, engine idling. "You’re two feet into my spot, and that’s an act of war."
Janine spins. "I parked like a normal person! Maybe you’re just not used to people not kissing your ass."
Ava climbs out of her car. Doesn’t shut the door. Doesn’t even blink. Just stalks toward her like the wrath of God in Gucci heels.
Janine stands her ground, chest out. "Oh, what, you gonna scream at me again? Maybe do that thing where you say something nasty and hope it distracts me?"
"Doesn’t have to be nasty to work," Ava murmurs. "You usually start squirming halfway through the sentence."
Janine shoves her. "You’re not special."
"You’re not subtle."
They’re too close. Breathing each other’s fire. Janine’s hands are fists. Ava’s smile is murder.
Then Ava grabs her.
A wrist. A turn. A slam—Janine’s back hits the passenger side door with a dull thud. Her eyes go wide.
"Inside," Ava growls.
"I’m not—"
Ava yanks the door open and all but throws her in.
Janine lands hard on the seat, legs kicking. She's halfway up before Ava follows her in and slams the door shut, trapping them in a cocoon of tension and tinted windows.
"I said inside," Ava breathes, one hand catching Janine’s ankle mid-kick and dragging her down the leather like she’s pulling prey into a den.
Janine snarls. Actually snarls. "Don’t you dare manhandle me—"
Ava’s hand closes around her throat, not tight, not dangerous.
"You mouth off like you want to be punished," Ava says, leaning in. Her mouth brushes Janine’s ear, and Janine twitches. "But you moan like you want to be owned."
Janine spits, "Fuck you."
Ava pushes her down onto her back, one hand flat on her chest. "Since when do you curse?"
Their mouths collide. Teeth clash. Janine bites. Ava bites harder.
Clothes don’t come off so much as get ripped. Ava tears Janine’s tights at the thigh, slides her fingers over the wet fabric with a dark, satisfied hum.
"You’re soaked," Ava grins. "That why you picked a fight today? Needed a reason to get wrecked?"
Janine tries to slap her. Ava catches her wrist and pins it above her head.
"Oh no, sweetheart. You don’t get to touch unless I say so."
She slides her fingers under the ruined lace, pressing in without warning. Janine gasps, bucks—then grits her teeth like she’s pissed at her own pleasure.
Ava works her like a puzzle she’s already solved. Ruthless. Precise. Her thumb finds Janine’s clit and circles slow, relentless. Janine’s breath stutters.
"Say it," Ava growls. "Say you need it."
"I don’t—ah—I don’t need anything from you."
Ava adds another finger. Curling. Deep.
Janine screams into her palm.
"Lie to me again," Ava whispers, "and I’ll make you come without ever touching your pussy again."
Janine thrashes beneath her, furious, humiliated, drenched. Her voice breaks. "Ava—please—"
"Better," Ava murmurs. "Now behave."
She shoves Janine’s skirt higher, presses her down harder into the seat, and fucks her with fingers slick and punishing.
Janine’s thighs tremble. Her voice cracks. She begs without words—hips jerking, eyes wide.
She comes like a weapon misfiring—loud, ungraceful, devastating.
And when she’s done, Ava doesn’t let up.
"Not yet," she says. "You haven’t learned your lesson."
Janine sobs out a sound that might be Ava’s name.
Ava leans down, mouth brushing her ear.
"Now be a good girl and take it."
Janine tries to fight again—weakly. Hands pushing at Ava’s shoulders, thighs twitching in protest, but it’s all air. Her energy’s spent, her resistance is theater.
"Still got fight in you?" Ava purrs, smug and cruel.
Janine’s only answer is a whimper. And then—goddamn her—she grabs Ava’s wrist and clutches it like it’s her last lifeline.
Ava chuckles. "Oh, so now you wanna hold hands?"
"Shut up," Janine slurs, still glaring but eyes glassy, unfocused. Her nails dig in, clinging like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered.
"You’re so full of shit," Ava says, leaning down to kiss her jaw. "Look at you. Still trying to act mad while your legs are shaking."
Janine doesn’t answer. She pulls Ava down into her neck instead, arms locking around her shoulders, face turning into the touch she pretends to hate.
Ava lets her. Just for a second.
"You’re mine when you’re like this," she whispers.
Janine exhales, shuddering. "I hate you."
Ava grins against her skin. "Sure you do, baby."
But she’s not done.
Ava reaches down, grabs something from the side pocket—something unmistakably shaped, unmistakably wicked. Her eyes glitter as she straps it on with one hand, never looking away.
Janine’s eyes widen. "No. No—Ava, you can’t—"
Ava crawls up between her legs, guiding the slick, thick silicone against Janine’s entrance. "Oh, I can. You just haven’t begged properly yet."
Janine tries to scramble up the seat, but Ava pins her with a palm to the chest.
"Be still."
And she thrusts in—slow and unrelenting.
Janine cries out, back arching, eyes fluttering shut. "Ah! Ava, please—"
"You wanted a fight," Ava pants, snapping her hips harder, pace brutal. "You got it."
Janine clutches at the seat, at Ava’s back, at nothing—her moans are breathless, desperate. Ava leans down and bites her shoulder, her jaw, and finally her breast—teeth sinking in hard enough to bruise.
Janine sobs through it, legs trembling, trying to fight, to push—but her fingers only curl into Ava’s skin. Weak. Shaky.
"Look at you," Ava snarls. "Mouthy little brat all fucked out."
Janine’s second orgasm hits like a freight train—violent, wet, and wrenching a guttural moan from deep in her chest.
And Ava doesn’t stop.
Another thrust. Another.
Janine’s eyes glaze. Her hands flail before finally settling—clutching Ava’s hips, Ava’s shoulder, her goddamn hand. Clingy. Needy.
"You done?" Ava whispers against her ear, still moving. "You tamed yet?"
Janine’s breath is a mess—hiccuping, half-swallowed sobs pressed into Ava’s shoulder. Her hands are still shaking, clutching at Ava’s back like she’s afraid she’ll disappear if she lets go.
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even look up. Just burrows closer, nose tucked in Ava’s neck, sweat-damp curls clinging to both of them. Her legs are still spread, twitching from aftershocks, but her arms won’t stop pulling Ava closer. Like her entire body has betrayed her—rage turned into want, want into need.
Ava slows, finally stilling. Not because she’s finished. But because Janine is.
Because the fight’s been fucked out of her, and what’s left is soft and whimpering and pliant in Ava’s hands.
“Well, damn,” Ava mutters. “There she is. Little stormcloud gone quiet.”
Janine doesn’t answer. She just tightens her hold—fingertips digging in at Ava’s shoulder blades, her ribs. It’s not resistance. It’s desperation. Like she’s trying to crawl inside Ava’s skin and hide there.
Ava exhales, something like a laugh curling at the edge of it. “You that clingy every time someone rearranges your guts?”
Still nothing.
Until—
“Shut up,” Janine mumbles. Barely audible. Voice hoarse.
Ava tilts her head. “You gonna keep fighting me while you’re cuddled like a kitten on morphine?”
“I said shut up.”
But there’s no heat to it. Just muffled words slurred into Ava’s collarbone.
Ava adjusts, shifting so Janine’s trembling legs fall to either side of her hips, strap still buried inside. One hand runs up Janine’s back, slow, fingers dragging over sweat and marks.
“You’re still stuffed full, Teagues,” Ava says, voice low. “You sure you want me to fuck off? Or you want me to wrap you up and rock you like the brat you are?”
Janine growls—but her fingers fist Ava’s shirt tighter.
“Thought so.”
Ava leans back slightly, just enough to look down at her—Janine’s cheeks are flushed, her lips kiss-bruised, and her eyes are glassy, blinking up with an expression that’s all wrong on her firebrand face: uncertain. Soft. Raw.
“You’re so annoying,” Janine mutters.
“And you’re addicted to this,” Ava says, brushing damp curls off Janine’s temple. “To me.”
Janine opens her mouth. Closes it again. Instead, she leans forward and—gods help her—kisses Ava’s shoulder.
No teeth. No bite. Just soft lips and shaky breath.
Ava stills. That, more than the fucking, more than the fighting, knocks the wind out of her.
“…Jesus.”
Janine’s breath catches—just once at first. Sharp. Quick. A little hiccup of sound like she’s trying to swallow it before it escapes.
Then another.
Then her whole body trembles, and the sound she makes next isn’t a moan or a curse or a threat. It’s a sob.
Choked. Raw. Too real.
Ava stills completely.
“Janine?”
Another sob punches out of her, and Janine turns her face to the side like she’s hiding. But she doesn’t let go. If anything, she clings harder—arms locked tight around Ava’s neck, trembling like her nerves have all been stripped raw.
Ava feels the warmth of tears on her collarbone.
“…Shit,” Ava whispers. “Baby girl, what the hell—”
“I hate you,” Janine gasps, voice shaking like she’s trying to keep it together and failing miserably. “I hate you so much, I c-can’t—god—why do you do this to me—”
Her voice breaks, and another sob cuts through her chest like a blade.
Ava pulls her in, hard. The strap is still inside her, but that’s not what matters now. What matters is the way Janine’s whole body shakes against her—not from pleasure, not from aftershocks, but from something deeper.
“You don’t hate me,” Ava says, low and serious. “You’re just… overwhelmed.”
“I shouldn’t—damn it, I didn’t mean to—” Janine chokes on her own breath, shivering all over. “I can’t stop—it’s like—I keep coming back and—and then I’m like this—”
“This?”
Janine curls in tighter, face red and wet, breathing hard. “Pathetic.”
Ava’s heart stutters.
She cups Janine’s face, firm but careful, and forces her to look up.
“Don’t you dare say that again.”
Janine blinks through her tears, lips parted. Vulnerable in a way Ava’s never seen.
“You came at me swinging like a wildcat,” Ava murmurs. “You don’t get to be pathetic just because you need to cry after getting railed into the goddamn car upholstery.”
Janine tries to look away again, but Ava doesn’t let her.
“You feel too much. That’s not weakness. That’s what makes you you.”
Janine bites her lip—hard—but she’s still crying. Quiet now. Softer. But not hiding anymore. Just… breaking open, slowly.
“You gonna run away from this now?” Ava asks.
Janine shakes her head.
“You want me to pull out and leave you here like it didn’t happen?”
Another head shake. Silent.
“You want me to hold you?”
A breath. A broken sound. A tiny, miserable nod.
And Ava does. Gathers her in, gently now, letting her cry into her chest while her hands stroke up and down Janine’s back. No more taunts. No more gloating.
Just this.
A raw, clingy, wrecked little brat who needed to fight someone just to finally fall apart.
Ava kisses her hairline.
“You’re not weak, Janine. You just needed someone who could take the hit.”
Janine sobs again—quieter now. But she doesn’t let go.
Ava sits on the edge of the bed, watching Janine breathe.
Still crying, soft and silent now, tears slipping down her cheeks without much force. It’s not the storm anymore. It’s the ache that follows. The wreckage of it.
“Hey,” Ava whispers, brushing a thumb along Janine’s jaw. “You with me now?”
Janine nods, but doesn’t speak. Her eyes are red, her lips parted. She looks so small. Not in body—Ava’s never not noticed the curves and defiant posture—but in spirit. That fire she’s always burning with… it’s down to embers now.
Ava slips under the blanket beside her. Doesn’t crowd. Doesn’t push.
Just lets her presence wrap around Janine like heat.
“You wanna be touched?” she murmurs, voice warm and slow. “Only if you want it. I got all night.”
Janine nods again. More like a flinch. A yes that almost hurts.
So Ava moves carefully. Reverently.
She pulls Janine in and starts with kisses—soft ones. Featherlight. One to her temple. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth. The edge of her jaw.
“Still with me?” Ava asks, between every kiss. Janine shivers, but keeps nodding.
Ava reaches beneath the blanket, cups her breast through the thin tank top she’d changed into. Her thumb brushes over the nipple, slow and sweet.
Janine makes a sound—more sob than moan. Her hands catch Ava’s wrists like she needs to feel the weight of her.
“Hey,” Ava whispers, drawing back just enough to look her in the eye. “Breathe. You’re okay. You’re mine.”
Janine exhales, tears spilling again. Ava kisses her hard, eyes open—holding eye contact like it’s oxygen.
“You’re my favorite, Teagues,” she murmurs against her lips. “You know that, right?”
Janine’s voice breaks: “You’re lying.”
“No,” Ava breathes. “Not even a little.”
She starts to massage her breasts now—gentle, kneading, fingers slow. Janine arches into her touch, almost involuntarily.
“Only one I want like this,” Ava says, mouth dragging down her neck. “Only one who gets me like this.”
Janine chokes on another sob. She hides her face in Ava’s neck, sniffling like she’s embarrassed.
But Ava doesn’t tease her. Not now.
She holds her tighter.
Presses kiss after kiss into her skin.
“Cry all you want,” she whispers. “You’re safe. You’re mine. Got you.”
Janine finally clutches her like she means it—fingers digging into Ava’s back, pulling her closer.
“I hate you,” she mumbles again, voice weak.
Ava smiles against her skin.
“I know, baby. I love you too.”
Janine’s tucked into Ava’s body now, spine to chest, and not flinching away from how good it feels.
The sheets are warm. The room smells like lavender and her. Janine’s face is wet, but her breathing’s steadier now. Barely.
Ava’s hand slides up under her tank top again—slow and warm, just resting over her stomach like an anchor. Her other hand brushes sweat-matted curls back from Janine’s temple.
“You good?” Ava asks, voice lower than a whisper.
Janine nods against the pillow, then stops herself. Her voice is small, ashamed:
“I don’t know.”
Ava doesn’t push. Just kisses the back of her neck, mouth soft and warm.
“You’re not bad,” she says. “You’re just… feeling everything. That’s not a crime.”
Janine shudders. “Why do you even like me?”
Ava freezes.
Then—very deliberately—pulls Janine tighter.
“Why?” she says into her skin, like she’s about to list war crimes.
“Because no one fights me harder. No one makes me crazier. You talk with your whole chest even when you’re wrong, and you look at people like they can be better. You’re brilliant, and exhausting, and real.”
She kisses the curve of Janine’s shoulder. Soft.
“And you keep trying, even when you’re falling apart. You still care. I don’t know a single other bitch who would cry after getting wrecked and still apologize for parking like a menace.”
Janine makes a broken, laughing sound. “I didn’t apologize.”
“Exactly.” Ava smiles against her neck. “You’re ridiculous. And mine.”
Janine turns, slow and heavy, just enough to look back over her shoulder. Her lashes are wet. Her lips are parted.
“You’re serious?” she asks, like she’s afraid to believe it.
Ava meets her eyes. Dead on. No games.
“I have never wanted anyone the way I want you,” she says. “Not just the sex. All of it. Even this.”
She presses a hand gently to Janine’s chest. “Even the crying. Even when you hate me for being right.”
Janine’s mouth trembles.
Ava kisses her—slow and full, no heat, just presence.
Janine melts like it’s the only thing keeping her from vanishing.
“I’m tired,” she murmurs against Ava’s lips.
“I know.” Ava strokes her hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”
Janine tries to pull away, then turns back and tucks her face into Ava’s throat instead. Her fingers twitch, like she’s reaching for something even she doesn’t know how to ask for.
Ava takes her hand.
Worships it with a kiss.
And doesn’t let go.