John Wang's POV
March 18, 20xx — 04:35 AM
Archery Club Room — Inner Storage → Main Room
She was finally still.
Mu Qinglan's body slumped against my chest, her skin damp with sweat, her breath soft but steady. Her thighs were still shaking, even in sleep, legs curled around mine like she hadn't yet realised the fight was over.
But I didn't move her.
I rested my hands on her soft hips for a moment, enjoying the lingering heat and marks from our last climax. The sticky, moist heat was slowly cooling, and the ache in my body fading into something that almost resembled post-workout soreness.
"Nn..."
Her head rested below my collarbone, her lips parted slightly. A dark hickey bloomed just beneath her jaw. Her hair was a mess, splayed over her shoulders and mine, strands still stuck to my neck and chest.
I ran a hand slowly down her back.
The marks she left on me still stung.
Claw tracks — not deep enough to bleed, but deep enough to linger for days.
