King lay naked and broken on the living room sofa, his body throbbing. He heard the insistent vibration of his phone on the dining table a sound of the outside world he could not engage with. He knew he should move, knew he should check the persistent caller, but the energy required to lift his body, to speak, or to interact was utterly gone.
He remained curled on the couch, the sobs eventually subsiding into heavy, shuddering breaths until, finally, he fell into an exhausted, tear-soaked sleep.
Upstairs, Win couldn't find rest. The rage had subsided, leaving behind a cold, self-loathing certainty. He knew, with the physical certainty of their intimacy, that King's body was just as tight as it had been before the encounter.
