The room went silent for a long moment. Lior didn't respond immediately, and Elowen's eyes lingered on him. To her, he looked utterly pitiful like a drenched cat cornered in the rain. Her lips pressed together in strain, worry clouding her face as she finally asked softly, "Are you okay?"
She leaned forward, her voice firmer now. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
Lior stared back at her, utterly baffled. Why would she think he was hurt? From kissing? From the kneading of his backside? Or—did she think he had been assaulted?
So he said bluntly, "Of course I'm not hurt anywhere, and I wasn't forced into any of this. That's exactly the problem."
Relief washed over Elowen's features. She sighed heavily, expelling the tension she'd been holding. Then, resting a gentle hand on his arm, she murmured, "You had me worried for a moment. But if that's the case, then why are you so downcast? You gave your consent, didn't you? Why is it still troubling you?"
