it's honestly just the first few paragraphs of the chapter! but does spoil a little bit in terms of how long things went on for and is vaguely explicit so will keep it under a cut.
It’s almost dawn by the time Rafe’s winding back to his room.
He drifts down the hallway like a bloated body in a river.
His stomach’s distended.
His spleen’s gorged.
His brain’s soft and gelatinous, swollen with her, with the necrotizing musk of the last few hours.
He didn’t even fully soften before they were going again. Dazed and compulsive, slicked in his still-warm cum.
He doesn’t know how many rounds they went.
How many times he swelled then slackened in her like a pair of lungs.
How many ruts of her clit against different juts of him had her shuddering for the fourth time.
Fifth time.
He doesn’t know.
Fuck, he doesn’t know.
Numbers were letters and letters were blunt smoke.
Time was folding in on itself like dough.
He was high in so many ways, so many fucking ways. He drags a hand over his face as he pushes the door open, mouth caught in something hazy and condemned, a death row smile.
He stiffens when he sees Sofia sitting on the edge of the bed.
She’s staring down at her hands.
“Hey.”
His engorged stomach hollows out.
Her voice is quiet.
She looks unbearably young for a second, her flimsy pajamas covered in cherries.
He swallows. “Hey.”
Officially the most niche piece of art I've ever posted.
A promotional image for this fic (no I'm not the author) and a tribute to Generally Pooky and Krimsonrogue who gifted me and a dear friend of mine with many a happy hour of bad book bashing.
