((TW for Ody having a panic attack abt Calypso :( my pookie deserved so much more comfort him rn))

This shouldn't have been a problem. Of all of the things Odysseus was scared of when he got home, this shouldn't have even been on the list.

It hadn't even crossed his mind on the first night. He was in your arms, you were in his, and all was good in the world. The only problem was that the night didn't seem long enough at all. Didn't bother him on the second night, either. He hadn't had any qualms when you gasped under him, or when your nails dug into his back. So why did he have a problem now?

Maybe it was the way you pushed him onto the bed. Maybe it was the way you smiled. The way you smiled, like she used to. Odysseus wasn't even sure you had smiled, really. Maybe his brain was playing tricks on him, transposing her face onto yours. Because in a few seconds, it wasn't your hands on him anymore. It was hers. Her hands, pulling at his clothes. Her angry kisses, forcing their way onto his lips, forcing their way to the top of his memory again. Her body on top of his, taking and taking and taking without asking.

Odysseus shoved you off his body almost harshly, a now familiar panic creeping up his spine, like the vines she had used to hold him down. The panic wrapped itself around his throat, making it suddenly hard to breathe, paralysing his body as he curled up on the bed. He couldn't bring himself to look at you, to look at your face, distorted by her features. And when you tried to take a step closer, he almost let out a scream. Pathetic, that's what he was. That's what she would murmur once she was done. And maybe she had been right.

"No--no no no, don't--" Odysseus gasped out as you tried to reach a hand out, his body only curling up tighter as he attempted to protect himself. "Please, not--not again--"