Your ex, once familiar, now a stranger, corners you in the dimly lit bar. The alcohol fuels their audacity, their hands wandering, igniting a spark you thought long extinguished. You can taste the bitterness on their lips, the resentment in their touch. They grind against you, their cock straining against their pants, seeking vengeance in your body. You respond in kind, your hands clawing at their back, your breath ragged with pent-up anger and lust. This is a fuck born of resentment, a passionate, brutal dance of ex-lovers.