A small attempt at writing these two together - this story is for yestweedycole, italics is a flashback.

He had to stop it, the thing. That was what she called it, the thing, 'their thing' he didn't realise at first as he was blinded by lust, but he had now come to realisation that he was being used. It was the way she purred his name when he kissed her neck, the way she screamed his name when she came and the way she harshly spat his name after they'd finished and she went back to that pathetic excuse for husband. And him, well he ended up alone. How had it come to this? How had he decided to start sleeping with a married woman?

'It has to stop' he thought, but he'd said that the last time, and the time before that.

The first time involved alcohol and that's why it was a stupid mistake; because it's too easy to blame alcohol right? The second time was an adrenaline rush, the thrill of being caught. The rest felt like a routine. But a good routine, the feeling of being inside her; the smell of her vanilla hair and her strong legs wrapped around his waist felt good. It felt fantastic.

If it ended she would be hurt too and the thought of her being hurt meant she would brush him aside and he would never get to feel her, to see her again and that hurt him too. But ending an affair, feeling that hurt would be less painful than carrying on with the lie, right?

He ran a hand across his face, he had to end it, and end it now.

He wasn't prepared to go through the emotions any more, she'd proven that by leaving him every time she didn't really care - all she wanted was what her husband couldn't give her - a good time. But hadn't she said something before something that could change that.

"Can you just hold me?"
"Sure," he pressed her flush against his body her nakedness sprawled over his own naked form, the heavily tanned complexion contrasting against his own pale skin. Her hand was resting over his heart; it was pounding to her, for her.
"I feel so safe with you," she whispered "there's no one else I want to be with right now," he reached for her chin and placed a finger under it so he could look deep into those mossy eyes, 'was she telling him the truth?'

But standard protocol meant she left again, and every time she never looked back. She was confident – a little too confident, arrogant really, but she had a warm touch, a brain and she was beautiful and she knew what to do with that beauty. 'Their thing' was never enough, he always wanted more of her, the best he ever got was a weekend when the husband was injured and that weekend was perfect, to him anyway.

Didn't she realise how good she had it? Two men, who wanted her, needed her and dare he say it, loved her. But they were both being played for fools, she was having her cake and eating it and stomping all over his heart. This was it.

No more.

The next time he saw her, it would be finished. Losing her would be a blow but he wouldn't allow himself to feel so drained any more. Lying to his friends, laughing at her clueless husband and watching her leave him every time. His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door.

She was standing there in the rain, her eyes were red and she looked deflated, he couldn't turn her away, he shouldn't turn her away but he had to, for his own sanity.

"I did it Stephen," she spoke, the words barely audible against the rain.

He leaned against the door frame his strong arms folded against his chest, whilst her chest was heaving – had she run all the way here? She was going to burst into tears, right on his doorstep, he shouldn't allow her to, and he should turn her away, right now.

"I left him,"