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“Well then. Goodbye, Dr. Bright!” Owen said. “I’ll see you—”

Joan slammed her door shut in his face.

“—next quarter,” Owen finished.

Well, that was that. Owen sighed and pushed the button for the elevator. It arrived a moment later, and a scruffy young man in a hoodie and jeans shoved past Owen as the doors opened.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Owen apologized, even though he wasn’t the one who had bumped into the other man. “Are you a patient of Dr. Bright’s?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” the man said. “I’m a… special case of hers. And you’re that government agent who keeps coming here, right? How do you know Dr. B., exactly?”

“I conduct quarterly interviews with Dr. Bright on behalf of the AM,” Owen said, immediately surprised at his own admission. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It was completely inappropriate—”

“Damien.” Joan was standing in her open door, arms folded. “What are you doing here?”

“Sarah might have mentioned you had an important meeting this Friday.” Damien smirked. “I was curious. Sue me.”

“Oh, I’d very much like to,” Joan said. “What are you making him tell you?”

“Not much.” Damien licked his lips. “He sure is an easy one, though. I bet I could play him like a violin.”

“Don’t.”

“And what are you gonna do to distract me?”

Joan scowled. Owen was impressed; she normally saved that level of vitriol for him.

“Stop it, Damien.”

“Stop what?” Damien feigned innocence.

“Just come into my office,” Joan said. “And as much as I hate to ask, could you make him…” She gestured to Owen.

“Forget me? Oh yeah.” Damien snorted. “That’s my specialty.”

“Don’t brag, Damien. It’s unbecoming.”

Damien followed Joan into her office. “So who is that guy? You know you want to tell me.”

“He’s… he was…” Joan sighed. “He’s my ex.”

“Oh ho ho!” Damien laughed as the door swung closed. “So how does he compare to me? I bet I’m better at—”

The door shut, cutting off the rest of Damien’s sentence.

Owen found himself insatiably curious. This was Joan’s new flame? This unshowered punk with messy hair and a stained sweatshirt? Owen couldn’t shake the desire to eavesdrop. Surely he was misunderstanding the nature of their relationship. He pressed his ear to the door.

“Well. You gonna distract me, Doc? Or should I catch up with lover boy out there?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were resorting to blackmail to rape me now. Bored doing it with your ability?”

Owen’s brow furrowed. Blackmail? Rape? He should help Joan,  knock on the door and—no, no, he didn’t want to interrupt them.

“We both know I don’t have to do either. Are you gonna lose the underwear or what?”

“Entitlement isn’t a good look on you, Damien.”

“And bitchy isn’t a good look on you. Not that I don’t enjoy your… feistiness. Because I do, obviously. But whatever your ex said to put you in such a bad mood, you don’t have to take it out on me.”

Joan made an aggravated noise. “I’m… sorry, Damien.”

“That’s more like it. Now, I think you wanna hop on your desk and let me put you in a better mood.”

No . I want you to leave me alone and let me do my job.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t want it.”

“But I don’t want it! Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Because you wanted it last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. Should I go on?”

“Only because you forced me to!”

“Nah, I never force anyone. I just gave you a tiny little push to do what you already wanted. And you totally loved it. Remember how hard you came? And you were so fucking wet… thanks again for doing my laundry afterward, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Joan said acidly. “Seriously. I’d take it as a kindness if you never mentioned it ever again.”

“Come on, Dr. B. We play this game every time. You pretend you don’t want it—”

“‘Game’?! Jesus, Damien.”

“—and I oh-so-patiently wait until you change your mind. You have weird taste in foreplay. I’m not complaining, mind you. But you gotta admit, it’s getting a little old. So how about today you just hop right onto your desk without arguing?”

There was silence for a moment. Owen bit his lip, dying to know what was happening on the other side of the door. Finally, Joan sighed.

“Touch me, Damien." She sounded half defeated, half turned-on despite herself. "Kiss me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Even through the door, Owen could hear Joan’s breath catch in response to each noisy kiss Damien was planting on her.

“I’m gonna give you a hickey, Doc.”

“Please don’t.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave one right where that guy can see it, haha.”

“Damien—”

There was a high pitched sucking noise, which Joan’s whimper quickly drowned out.

"There." He sounded satisfied with his work. "Now he'll know you're mine."

"Charming."

“Yeah, I sure am. Hey, I bet you want to take off your shirt. Right, Dr. Bright?”

“I… maybe.”

“Yeah, you do. Go on.”

“I—no! No, I don’t! Stop using your ability on me!”

“Oh, fuck,” Damien groaned. “It’s so hot when you resist me. God. And I can tell you like it as much as I do.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Then why are you soaking wet?”

“I… I don’t…”

"Let me have those."

There was silence. Owen burned with curiosity and something that certainly was not jealousy.

“Get up on your desk, Dr. B.”

There was a creak.

“Atta girl. Now lie back and let me have a taste.”

Joan inhaled sharply. “Damien! Oh, Damien, please!”

Joan had never sounded quite so aroused in all the time Owen had known her. He had to see what was making her sound like that. He gently pushed the door open and peered inside.

Joan was reclining on her desk, resting her head on a copy of the DSM-5. She was hugging her knees close to her chest, eyes closed as a kneeling Damien licked her. Her sensible low heels had been kicked off near the desk, and her sensible white briefs were half-tucked into Damien’s hoodie pocket.

“This is so wrong,” Joan muttered. “You shouldn’t be using your ability like this.”

“Come on. We both know that if I was really ‘imposing my want’ on you, you’d already be naked. I, for one, definitely want to be able to stare at your tits while I fuck you so hard you—”

“Damien?”

“Yes?”

“Shut the hell up and lick me.”

Damien grinned. “Yes, ma’am, Dr. Bright.”

She wrapped her legs around his shoulders, but Damien didn’t seem to need the encouragement. He dove in, moaning and unzipping his jeans as he licked her. Joan gasped and grabbed a handful of his unruly hair.

“Oh, that’s good,” she breathed. “That’s very, very good, Damien.”

“Mmhmm,” came the muffled reply. Damien slipped two fingers inside her and wiggled them until Joan’s stockinged toes curled.

He ate her eagerly until Joan arched her back off the desk. She was rubbing and squeezing her breasts and crying his name when he abruptly pulled away.

“What—Damien, no, please, keep going!”

Damien added a third finger but didn’t resume licking her. “Who’s the best fuck you’ve ever had? Tell the truth.”

“Seriously? Don’t, Damien. You’re killing the mood.”

“Then hurry and tell me so I can get back to it.”

They glared at each other for a long moment, as if arguing silently. Joan chewed on her lip.

“You,” she admitted finally.

“Me what?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the best I’ve ever had. In bed.”

“Yeah?” Damien grinned and (was Owen imagining it?) glanced slyly at the cracked door. “Why’s that?”

“Because it’s so wrong. You’re my patient.”

“That can’t be all. What else?”

“Because you’re always so goddamn smug! You don’t do anything for me, even go down on me, except to prove some kind of point. You use your ability to coerce me into all sorts of extreme scenarios I would never agree to under normal circumstances. And the more I resist, the better it feels when I finally acquiesce. You’ve forced me to completely abandon any shred of dignity or morals I had left, and even worse, you’ve forced me to enjoy it.”

“But you like that, don’t you?”

Joan gave a long, weary sigh. “Apparently, I like it more than I’ve ever liked anything else in bed.”

“And that Green guy, was he good in bed?”

“The best I’d ever had.”

“Before me, right?”

“Yes, Damien, before you. You’re now the best sex I’ve ever had, and I utterly hate that fact. Are you happy now?”

“Yeah, I am.” Damien rewarded her honesty with his tongue. “Good girl.”

“Fuck you.” Joan dug her fingers into his hair again, pulling hard. “Fuck you for making me say that.”

Damien just laughed and buried his nose into her curls. "Mmm.”

With that, Owen suddenly wanted to leave. He simply had this intense urge to quietly shut the door, get on the elevator, and go about his day. In fact, as the elevator doors closed, he couldn’t even remember what had just happened. All he remembered was that Joan had said someone else was better in bed than him. Someone else was the best.

Well. That was that, then. Owen pushed the button for the ground floor.