The moonlight spilled gently through the half-open curtains, bathing the room in a soft, silvery glow. The wind had stilled outside, and the world seemed to hold its breath—as if cradling them in a quiet moment meant only for two.
Rina stirred first, her cheek still pressed to Yokun's bare chest. The first sensation that hit her wasn't the comfort of his arms or the warmth they shared—but a strange, lingering fullness, a deep ache that made her flinch slightly.
She squirmed.
"…Ow," she whispered, voice muffled and low.
But he heard.
Yoru cracked one eye open, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Still sore, Rinchan?"
Her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head to look at him. "You don't get to sound proud."
"I'm not proud," he replied, smugness thick in every syllable. "Just making sure my sweet little Rinchan's okay after letting me have her so completely."
Rina flushed, a deep red rushing to her cheeks as she swatted weakly at his chest. "You're such an idiot…"
