The sound was raw, desperate, the scream of a woman who had been pushed past every boundary and was now drowning in the aftermath. Her hands came up to push him away, but they found only the warm, hard muscle of his back and the strange, alien protrusion at the base of his spine.
Viktor pulled back.
He looked at her face.
At the cum dripping from her chin, her nose, her cheeks. At her eyes—wild, wet, furious, and something else. Something hot.
His lip trembled.
A tear formed in the corner of his violet eye—a single, glistening bead that rolled down his pale cheek with the heartbreaking precision of a boy's shame.
"Ah," he said. His voice cracked. "Yes. I shouldn't have done that."
He turned.
He moved to pull away, to stand, to leave—to become the innocent who had made a mistake and was now retreating in mortification.
Naro moved.
She grabbed his arm.
"Wait," she said.
The word was torn from her.
