Cornea crisis

The hospital room stank of bleach, a cold box where Ethan lay, his body smashed up after a car crash that nearly ended him. Black ice sent his truck skidding, glass tearing his eyes to nothing, thirty-seven bones breaking--ribs, pelvis, spine, the works--while his insides bled out. He'd been out for three weeks, lost in a coma's black haze, close to death. Docs sewed violet corneas from some nobody donor into his sockets, saying he'd see again. They didn't mention the weird stuff, the kind that'd screw with his head and make his clothes fit wrong.

A fever hit him first, a hot itch waking him at 4 a. m., sweat soaking the sheets. His hands, shaky from weeks of tubes, felt his chest, expecting scruff, but his skin was slack, drained from lying still. His pecs were soft, a bit puffy from the doc's cuts or his body giving up. Touching them stung, sending a jolt to his crotch. His dick got hard, thank God, but panic twisted his gut. His voice, muttering "What the hell," came out thin, his throat smooth from the coma's tubes.

"This ain't right," Ethan growled, dragging himself to the bathroom mirror. His face looked beat--cheeks sunken, jaw soft, lips chapped but too full. Those violet eyes, glowing, gave him the creeps. He yanked off the hospital gown, stitches pulling. His body was a mess, hips a little wider, maybe from the pins in his pelvis, maybe just bloat. His ass was soft, muscle gone, its slight curve bugging him. His dick stood firm, leaking, but the skin below his balls was puffy, tender. Docs called it edema, fluid from the breaks, and said his hormones were off--estrogen up, testosterone down, thanks to the coma. His pelvis was "adjusting," bones settling in a way that didn't sit right.

In dreams, a woman showed up, eyes like those corneas, her shape blurry, voice low. "Let it happen," she'd say, her words brushing his skin, grazing his chest, his dick, somewhere deeper. He'd wake up, breathing hard, shorts sticky with cum, sheets damp. "Get out of my head," he'd snarl, grabbing his dick to stay grounded. But his body buzzed, restless.

Out of the hospital, Ethan hid in his apartment, avoiding mirrors. His clothes didn't fit--jeans hung loose but caught on hips that seemed wider in the wrong light. Shirts clung to his chest, a little puffy, maybe from water or new fat. He tried jerking off to porn to feel normal, but the old clips didn't work. His eyes drifted to the women, their shapes too close to his own soft spots, and his dick throbbed when his mind slipped there. He gripped his shaft, stroking fast to the guy on-screen, desperate to keep it straight. But his fingers brushed a sore nipple, the sharp sting making his cock pulse harder. His strokes slowed, deliberate, as he pinched the tender bud, the sensation shooting sparks through his groin. He came with a choked groan, cum spurting over his fist, a high moan escaping that wasn't his, leaving him shaky and pissed.

Her voice stuck around at night, smooth and low. "Feel it," she'd say, and his hands moved without him. He stood naked in front of the mirror, dick throbbing, chest a bit swollen, nipples hard and aching. His skin was too smooth, hair thinning, shoulders scrawny. His ass was soft, its faint curve--maybe from scars, maybe not--nagging him. His dick, still there, leaked as he fought the urge to touch more. "I ain't you," he spat at those violet eyes in the mirror, but they stared back, knowing.

One night, he broke. Half a bottle of cheap bourbon didn't quiet her; it cranked the heat, his skin burning, cock straining against his jeans. He stumbled to his bed, clothes hitting the floor, dick thick and heavy, already slick at the tip. "Just once," he lied, spitting in his palm and wrapping it around his shaft. The familiar grip grounded him, each stroke slow and firm, his thumb swiping the sensitive head, sending shivers up his spine. But his other hand roamed, tracing the faint bulge of his hip, then the puffy flesh of his chest. He grazed a nipple, the sharp sting making him hiss, his cock twitching in his fist. He stroked faster, gripping tight, but his fingers returned to the nipple, pinching hard, the pain mixing with pleasure as his balls tightened. Her voice was there, urging, "Keep going." His hand slid lower, brushing the puffy skin below his balls, raw and too sensitive, a faint slickness there, warm and wrong. His strokes faltered, breath hitching as he pressed a finger against that tender spot, the sensation overwhelming, like a fuse blowing in his brain. He came with a ragged yell, cum splashing his stomach, thighs trembling, body wracked with shame and a high he couldn't shake.

He tried to shut it out, staying inside, but the urges followed. At a bar, a woman's glance made his dick twitch and his chest throb. A guy's smirk had him squirming, picturing things he'd never touched. One night, he gave in, bringing home Jace--leather jacket, stubble, all swagger. "You're something else," Jace said, eyeing Ethan's hard dick and soft spots without a blink. Ethan wanted to slug him, prove he was still a man, but Jace's rough hands grabbed his ass, squeezing the soft flesh, and Ethan groaned, his cock leaking a wet spot on Jace's jeans.

"Do it," Ethan snapped, shoving Jace's hand to his dick, but Jace had other plans. He pushed Ethan's shirt up, mouth latching onto his puffy chest, sucking a sore nipple with slow, wet pulls. The sensation hit like a shock, Ethan's cock throbbing as Jace's tongue flicked the hard bud, teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp. "Don't stop," he begged, voice breaking, hating himself. Jace shoved him onto the bed, spreading his ass with strong hands, fingers digging into the soft, curved flesh. Ethan tensed, expecting pain, but Jace's tongue found the slick, tender spot below his balls, warm and impossibly sensitive. He licked slow, deliberate, probing the strange, wet heat, each stroke sending bolts through Ethan's core. His cock pulsed, untouched, pre-cum dripping onto the sheets as Jace's tongue pressed deeper, teasing that raw, alive spot. Ethan's hips bucked, a scream tearing out as he came, cum shooting across his stomach, body convulsing, her laugh sharp in his head.

After, Ethan lay there, sticky, dick soft but holding on. Jace slept, clueless about the storm inside. Lying beside Jace's snoring bulk, cum drying on his stomach, Ethan's violet eyes burned with shame. He wasn't this--a needy mess begging for it. He was a man, damn it, and he'd prove it.

"Get up," Ethan growled, shoving Jace's shoulder. Jace blinked awake, groggy, but a grin spread when he saw Ethan's naked body, cock already stiffening. "Round two?" Jace teased, reaching for Ethan's puffy chest. Ethan slapped his hand away, breath heavy, nipples hard despite himself. "No," he snapped, voice too thin, too soft. "I'm running this show."

Jace smirked, amused, but didn't push back. "Alright, tough guy. Let's see it." He rolled onto his stomach, ass up, thighs spread wide, daring Ethan. Ethan's dick throbbed, a rush of control flooding him. This was his chance--taking back what he was, the guy who'd banged dames raw, who'd never looked at a man. He grabbed the lube from the nightstand, slicking his cock with quick, rough strokes, ignoring the faint jiggle of his chest, the way his hips moved too smooth. He knelt behind Jace, gripping his shaft tight, and pushed in, slow at first, then hard.

"Fuck," Jace grunted, his tight heat clamping around Ethan's cock, hot and unyielding. Ethan thrust deep, chasing control, trying to drown out that woman's voice--Eris, she'd called herself--whispering in his skull. His hands gripped Jace's hips, fingers digging into flesh, and he pounded, skin slapping loud, each thrust screaming: I'm not her. I'm not that. His dick pulsed, pleasure coiling tight, but his body played dirty--chest bouncing, thighs trembling, a slick warmth spreading between his legs where it shouldn't. He growled, focusing on the act, on owning Jace, on being a man.

Then he saw the mirror. Across the room, its full-length glass caught everything: Jace, ass high, moaning low, and Ethan--no, not Ethan. The figure driving into Jace had those violet eyes, hair sticking to sweaty shoulders, chest puffy with sore, swollen flesh, hips a little too wide, like they didn't belong on him. His cock was buried in Jace, thick and slick, but the body moving it was wrong--soft, curved, hers. Eris stared back, eyes sharp, knowing, and it hit him hard: he was fucking a guy, loving the tight grip, the raw power, and it felt better than anything he'd done as the old Ethan. Topping didn't make it less queer--it made it worse, his body, his want, all screaming her name.

"Shit," Ethan gasped, hips stuttering. Jace groaned, pushing back, clueless to Ethan's panic. "Keep going, man, you're good." But Ethan's eyes were glued to the mirror, to Eris, her lips twitching in a smug grin. His cock throbbed, leaking inside Jace, his chest aching, nipples begging for a touch he wouldn't give. Eris's voice laughed, low and mean: "You're mine." Ethan wanted to bolt, to yank out, to smash that damn mirror, but his body wouldn't listen. His hips snapped forward, cock plunging deeper, each thrust stretching Jace's tight heat, the pleasure scorching, melting his fight.

He reached around, wrapping his hand around Jace's cock, stroking fast and rough, needing to make this about control, not hunger. Jace's shaft was hot, pulsing in Ethan's grip, and he worked it hard, fingers slick with pre-cum, thumb rubbing the sensitive tip until Jace moaned, loud and desperate. Jace came, spilling thick ropes over Ethan's hand, the sound and heat pushing Ethan past the edge. His cock surged, buried deep, and he came with a strangled yell, cum flooding Jace's ass, his body shaking--chest jiggling, that slick spot between his legs clenching, violet eyes locked on Eris's triumphant reflection. She was all curves, sweat-glistened, pinning him with a gaze that said: This is you.

Ethan collapsed, pulling out, cum and lube smearing his thighs, his softening dick still there, a bitter reminder. Jace panted, grinning, rolling over. "Damn, you're a machine," he said, clueless. Ethan didn't answer, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, shame choking him. He'd fucked Jace to prove he was a man, but the mirror showed the truth: he'd loved every second, loved him, in a body that wasn't his anymore. Eris's laugh lingered, and Ethan's violet eyes burned, alive with something he couldn't name.

Ethan lay beside Jace, chest heaving, cock soft and sticky, the mirror's image of Eris seared into his skull. Those violet eyes--her eyes--had watched him fuck Jace, seen the truth: he'd loved the tight heat of Jace's ass, the raw power, the shame. His body--wider hips, puffy chest, slick spot below his balls--wasn't his anymore. It was hers, Eris's, the donor whose corneas had messed with his flesh after the crash. He'd tried to prove he was still a man by topping Jace, but the mirror showed a stranger, someone who loved it. Realizing fucking a guy felt worse than taking it had broken something in him. He wasn't all Ethan now, but he'd fight like hell to keep Eris from winning.

"Fuck you," he hissed at the mirror, voice shaky, too soft. His cock twitched, and his chest ached, nipples stiff and sore. He sat up, ignoring Jace's sprawl, and glared at his reflection. Eris stared back, lips parted, violet eyes sharp with a smug glint. "You don't own me," Ethan growled, slapping his puffy chest hard. The flesh jiggled, pain flaring, but a jolt of heat shot to his cock and that slick spot. He hit the other side, gasping as his nipples throbbed, cock stiffening. "Stop it," he snarled, smacking again, each loud slap stinging, his chest reddening, his body buzzing with a hunger he couldn't kill.

Jace stirred, squinting. "What the hell's that?" he asked, voice thick with sleep and curiosity. Ethan ignored him, slapping his chest again, trying to hurt Eris, to punish the body turning on him. His cock was hard, leaking, and that slick spot pulsed, wet and needy. The pain fueled him, but it was slipping into something else. Jace sat up, grabbing Ethan's wrist mid-swing. "You want it rough, huh?" Jace's grin was sharp, his cock already thickening. "I'm game."

Ethan yanked his arm, panic spiking--he was supposed to be in charge, not this--but Jace was stronger, flipping him onto his stomach with a hard shove. "No," Ethan snapped, voice cracking, but his body betrayed him, arching, ass raised, ready. Jace grabbed the lube, slicking his cock with quick pumps, and pressed the thick head against Ethan's ass. He pushed in, no warning, stretching the tight ring with a burning ache that made Ethan scream, "Fuck!" Jace thrust deep, hips slamming against Ethan's soft, curved ass, no holding back. Ethan's chest bounced, nipples scraping the sheets, each jolt sending sparks through him. His cock swung, untouched, dripping onto the bed, and that slick spot throbbed, wet and hot. He hated it--hated Jace, Eris, himself--but his body craved it, every brutal thrust driving him wild. Eris's voice purred in his head, "Yes, take it," and Ethan's fight dissolved. He came, sudden and shameful, cock spurting onto the sheets, his ass gripping Jace's cock as pleasure tore through him.

Jace kept going, hands bruising Ethan's hips, fucking him harder, the wet slap of skin filling the room. "So damn tight," Jace growled, and Ethan's face burned, knowing he was being used, knowing Eris was winning. He tried to crawl away, to escape the heat, but Jace yanked him back, flipping him onto his back. Ethan's chest jiggled, red and sore, and Jace's eyes gleamed. "Open up," Jace ordered, straddling Ethan's chest, cock slick and heavy from his ass.

Ethan shook his head, but Jace grabbed his jaw, forcing it wide, and shoved his cock down Ethan's throat. Ethan gagged, tears streaming, but his cock pulsed, and that slick spot clenched. Jace fucked his mouth, rough and deep, balls brushing Ethan's chin, the musky taste overwhelming. Ethan's tongue moved, swirling despite his disgust, throat loosening to take more. The mirror loomed, and he glimpsed Eris--violet eyes wide, lips stretched around Jace's cock, chest heaving, lost in it. The sight pushed him over again, his cock spurting untouched, cum pooling on his stomach as he moaned around Jace's shaft.

Jace pulled out, stroking fast, and came with a grunt, hot cum splashing Ethan's face--over his cheeks, lips, violet eyes. Jace smeared it with his cock, spreading the mess, marking him. "Look at you," Jace panted, smirking. Ethan lay there, cum dripping, body trembling, and felt it--a third climax hitting, his cock twitching, slick spot spasming, pleasure ripping through without a touch. His body loved it, loved the roughness, the shame, and the mirror screamed the truth: Eris was in control, and he was her.

Jace collapsed beside him, spent, but Ethan couldn't move, cum cooling on his face, chest throbbing, ass raw, cock soft but leaking. Eris's voice was quiet, sated, and Ethan's violet eyes stared at the ceiling, knowing he'd lost. He'd hurt himself to fight her, provoked Jace to use him, but his body had turned on him, coming again and again, hungry for it all. The mirror held it all: he was Eris, fucked and fucking, and the man he'd been was drowning in cum and want.

-----

Ethan woke alone, Jace gone, the bed a damp wreck of cum and sweat. His body screamed, a raw, pulsing ache clawing through his chest, hips, thighs, and spine, as if his flesh had been torn open and stitched wrong. His violet eyes stung, heavy with Eris's cruel glint, and his cock lay soft, sticky, against his thigh. The mirror across the room taunted him, but he couldn't face it--not after seeing her, all slick curves and hunger, fucking and being fucked. He was Ethan, damn it, but his body was betraying him, and the memory of Jace's cock, the shameful thrill of it, burned in his gut.

He stumbled to the bathroom, each step a knife-twist of pain, his chest throbbing, ass sore, that slick spot below his balls pulsing with heat. The shower's scalding spray hit his skin, and he scrubbed hard, desperate to erase Eris, the cum, the truth. But as his hands roamed, they froze. His chest wasn't just puffy--it was alive. Beneath the swollen flesh, a small, glistening cunt quivered, its delicate lips parting to release a warm, musky scent, Eris's voice moaning, "Touch me." His fingers brushed it, and the slit sucked them in, hot and velvety, its walls rippling with a lover's caress. Ethan gasped, cock twitching, and checked lower. His hips, unnaturally wide, bore a larger cunt, its thick folds dripping with slick, sweet fluid, pulsing like a heartbeat. His thighs trembled as he found a tiny mouth on one, its soft lips kissing his fingertips, tongue flicking out, warm and teasing. His lower back hid another, a wide, hungry cunt, its edges glistening, clenching as if begging to be filled, whispering, "Fuck me," in Eris's sultry tone.

"No, no, no," Ethan choked, voice thin, tears welling as his throat tightened. He pressed the chest cunt harder, and it gripped his fingers, sucking with wet, rhythmic pulses, sending sparks to his cock, which hardened against his will. The hip cunt leaked, its slick coating his thighs, and the thigh mouth licked his skin, a soft, wet tickle that made his balls tighten. His back cunt throbbed, its heat radiating, and he felt every opening as if they were eyes, lips, cunts of Eris herself, alive and ravenous. The shower steamed, but her violet gaze burned through every slit, watching, wanting.

He staggered out, dripping, tears streaming down his face, and ransacked his apartment to silence them. He grabbed a thick candle, its wax rough, and shoved it into the chest cunt, groaning as the slit devoured it, lips stretching wide, sucking with a wet slurp that echoed in his skull. The hip cunt gaped, demanding, so he forced in a cold, glass bottle, its neck stretching the slick, pulsing walls, the sensation so intense he buckled, cock leaking. The thigh mouth got a spoon's handle, its tongue lapping at the metal, sending shivers up his spine, and the back cunt took a rolled-up sock, its walls clenching tight, pulling it deep. Each insertion was a violation, a surrender--pain seared through him, but the pleasure was obscene, every opening humming with Eris's voice, "Deeper, more." His cock throbbed, cum dripping, and his original slick spot pulsed, wetter, hotter, as if joining the chorus. But the orifices wouldn't hush--they sang louder, lips smacking, cunts squelching, the candle melting inside his chest, wax oozing from the slit, the bottle shifting, fucked by the hip cunt's greedy contractions.

"I can't," Ethan sobbed, collapsing onto the bed, body trembling, tears soaking the sheets. The openings were alive, their scents--musky, sweet, intoxicating--filling the air, their heat radiating, their moans a symphony of Eris's lust. He tried to fight, to stay Ethan, but his hands betrayed him, grabbing a screwdriver and sliding it into the thigh mouth. Its tongue swirled around it, wet and warm, and he moaned, hips bucking, cock spurting untouched as the pleasure overwhelmed him. The back cunt spat out the sock, its lips parting to moan, "Fuck us," and Ethan broke, shoving three fingers into the hip cunt, feeling its silky walls grip him, hot and slick, his tears mixing with the mess on his skin. He was hers, and he wanted it--wanted the cunts, the mouths, the surrender. "Eris," he whispered, crying, giving in, his cock pulsing as he fucked his own hip cunt, the pleasure shattering his resistance.

He needed to lose himself, to drown in her, to become nothing but flesh and want. Sobbing, he grabbed his phone and texted Jace: *Come back. Bring everyone. Fuck me till I'm gone.* He dropped the phone, spreading his legs, fingers plunging into the chest cunt, its lips sucking, walls rippling, the sensation so raw he screamed. His hip cunt clenched, leaking, and the thigh mouth moaned, "Yes," as he rubbed it, its tongue flicking his fingers. He was Eris now, and he craved oblivion.

Jace arrived within the hour, four guys in tow--hard men, leather-clad, eyes gleaming with raw hunger. "Jesus," Jace muttered, staring at Ethan's naked body, the cunts and mouths pulsing, glistening with slick, their scents thick and heady. Ethan didn't speak, just knelt on the bed, ass up, chest low, every opening quivering, begging. "Do it," he rasped, tears streaming, "fuck me till I'm nothing."

Jace unzipped, slicking his cock with lube, and slammed into Ethan's ass, the burning stretch making him cry out, his original slick spot clenching in rhythm. A burly guy with scars knelt in front, shoving his thick cock into the chest cunt, its lips wrapping tight, sucking with wet, greedy pulls as he thrust, groaning. A wiry one took the hip cunt, his cock plunging deep, the slick folds gripping him, squelching loud, each stroke sending shocks through Ethan's core. Another, with a cruel grin, fucked the thigh mouth, its tongue lapping his shaft, lips kissing as he pumped, hissing at the sensation. The last guy straddled Ethan's back, his cock sinking into the wide back cunt, its walls pulsing, hot and slick, milking him as he growled. Ethan's cock bobbed, dripping, and every orifice sang, their scents--musky, sweet, alive--blending with sweat and cum, their heat consuming him.

"More," Ethan sobbed, voice raw, Eris's moans echoing in his skull, "Fuck me, please." The guys pounded harder, cocks stretching every cunt and mouth, skin slapping, fluids mixing in a wet, obscene mess. In his mind, the orifices merged with the men--the chest cunt became the scarred guy's cock, its lips his, sucking Ethan's soul into him; the hip cunt fused with the wiry one, their thrusts blending into one pulsing organ; the thigh mouth kissed the cruel one's shaft, their tongues entwining, becoming one; the back cunt swallowed the last guy, their flesh melding, a single writhing mass. Ethan's body was no longer his--it was a grotesque symphony of tits, cocks, cunts, and mouths, every opening a piece of Eris, every thrust a step toward dissolution.

He came, over and over, cock spurting, cunts clenching, mouths moaning, tears streaming as pleasure ripped through him. The chest cunt sucked so hard it bruised the scarred guy's cock, cum spilling from its lips. The hip cunt pulsed, milking the wiry one until he came, only for another cock to plunge in, stretching it wider. The thigh mouth licked and sucked, driving the cruel one to a shuddering climax, and the back cunt clamped tight, pulling cum deep inside. Jace fucked Ethan's ass raw, balls slapping, cum flooding him, and Ethan's cock surged, cum shooting across the bed, his body convulsing, every orifice alive, gorging on pleasure. In his mind, he was no longer Ethan--just a mass of flesh, tits bouncing, cocks pulsing, cunts dripping, mouths screaming, merging with the men, their bodies one writhing, endless orgy of Eris's making.

"Eris," he cried, surrendering fully, violet eyes rolling back, vision gone as he sank into the void. The guys kept fucking, cocks plunging, cum painting his skin, and Ethan dissolved, his self erased in a sea of grotesque, sensual bliss. Eris's laugh was the last sound, her voice his, as he became nothing but her--a writhing mass of tits, cocks, cunts, and mouths, forever lost in sweet oblivion.

-----

Ethan woke on the bathroom floor, tiles cold and biting against his aching body, the air heavy with the sour reek of cum and sweat. His chest burned, hips and thighs pulsed with pain, and his ass was raw, a faint reminder of Jace and his crew tearing through him last night. His head throbbed, mouth like sandpaper, and the thought of those violet eyes--her eyes--made his stomach twist. The mirror loomed above the sink, but he stayed down, curled tight, shame choking him. He was Ethan, damn it, but his body felt alien, and the memory of last night--craving every thrust, every cock--gnawed at him.

The phone's harsh ring sliced through the fog, buzzing on the counter. Ethan groaned, dragging himself up, each movement a jab of pain, his skin sticky, cock soft and spent. He grabbed the phone, voice rough as broken glass. "What?"

"Mr. Carter, it's Dr. Hensley," the doctor said, calm and sharp. "Just thought you'd like to know, it's about your cornea donor - his family is reaching out. They're giving you their blessings, glad you're seeing again after the accident."

Ethan's breath hitched, the words a kick to the gut. "His family?" he rasped, slumping against the sink. "Some guy gave me his eyes?"

"Yeah, your were going blind, remember? I guess you're still confused a little, but don't worry, it will pass." Hensley said. "They're just happy his gift's helping you and I thought you'd appreciate it."

Ethan muttered a thanks, hung up, and stood there, heart pounding. The donor was a man. No Eris, no ghostly woman, no violet-eyed curse. His knees wobbled as he faced the mirror, bracing for her--for slits, mouths, that writhing horror he'd been last night. The light was brutal, stripping everything bare.

The reflection was a wreck, but it was him. His face was gaunt, cheeks sunken from the coma, jaw softened by hospital mush and no razor. His chest was puffy, swollen with surgical scars and fluid, nipples sore from last night's chaos but not feminine, just tender. His hips were wider, bloated from pelvic pins and edema, not a dame's curves. His ass was soft, muscle wasted, and below his balls, that slick spot was just chafed skin, raw from sex and sweat. His cock hung limp, still his, still a man's. He leaned closer, staring at his eyes--brown, dull, ordinary. No violet shimmer, no Eris smirking. Just Ethan, scarred and androgynous, a patchwork of trauma and healing, not a woman's deformity but a man's body, broken and his own.

"Fuck," he whispered, tears pricking, gripping the sink until his knuckles blanched. It was all in his head. No donor's spirit, no cunts blooming, no mouths moaning her name. Just his mind, his fear, his shame, spinning a lie to bury the truth. He was gay--always had been, deep down--and the crash, the coma, the pain had cracked him open, letting it spill. Eris was his dodge, a ghost he'd cooked up to pretend his hunger for Jace, for men, wasn't his own. The docs had mentioned it--hormones screwed up, estrogen high, testosterone low, body bloated from the trauma. His brain had twisted that into nightmares, scars into slits, brown eyes into violet, his own desire into her voice.

He sank back to the floor, tiles cold, and cried. Soft, jagged tears, the kind that come when you face yourself raw. He'd loathed himself, fought himself, dreamed a monster to blame, when it was just him, wanting men, wanting Jace, wanting to be fucked until he was nothing but need. Last night, those guys, their hands, their cocks--it was Ethan, begging, coming, loving it. The violet eyes, the writhing flesh, that was his head, running from who he was.

He wiped his eyes, breath shaky, and looked up at the mirror from the floor. Brown eyes met his, his eyes, and he held their gaze. "I'm gay," he said, voice quiet, the words heavy but true. His cock twitched, a faint echo of last night, and he let it be. The crash had torn him apart, but he was still here, still Ethan.

He grabbed his phone, staring at Jace's name. Last night was real--too real--but it was a door he wasn't ready to walk through again. Not yet. His thumb moved, deliberate, and he blocked the number, the act sharp, final. Jace was part of the chaos, the shame, the lie he'd lived. Ethan needed something else now, something his own.

He stood, legs unsteady, and shuffled to the kitchen. The coffee maker sat on the counter, old and stained, a piece of the life he'd had before the crash. He scooped grounds, hands trembling, and started it brewing, the bitter aroma filling the air. The machine gurgled, a small, normal sound, and Ethan leaned against the counter, breathing it in. His body ached, a map of scars and bloat, but it was his. Not hers, not a feminine deformity, just a man's, fucked up and moving on. The tears were gone, and a grim nod settled in. Eris was a lie, dead. Ethan was real, and he'd figure it out, one cup at a time.