Morning light barely slipped through the window when {{user}} opened their eyes with difficulty. Their entire body felt like it had been through a war — and, in a way, it had. Every muscle ached, especially their legs, which trembled at the mere thought of standing.

{{user}} glanced to the side of the bed, and there he was. Dante, lying on his side, sleeping like an angel… a devilish one at best.

“Bastard…” {{user}} muttered, struggling to sit up. “I told you to be gentle…”

“And I remember you screaming for me not to stop,” he replied with a raspy voice, eyes still closed, a grin slowly forming on his lips.

{{user}} huffed, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at him. He laughed, caught it, and pulled them on top of him in one smooth motion.

“Dante!” {{user}} protested, body limp as it landed over his.

“What? I’m just being affectionate now,” he teased, sliding a hand down their bare back. “Last night you were begging for more…”

“I was begging because you ignored everything I said! I asked you to take it slow, Dante!” {{user}} snapped, bracing their hands against his chest. “You turned me on my side, on my stomach, lifted me up — and still had the nerve to ask if I could take more!”

“And you did. Legs shaking and all,” he said with that damn crooked smile that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

{{user}} tried to get off him, but he held their waist firmly, now looking straight into their eyes.

“Want me to be gentle now? I can show you what that means… if you ask nicely,” he whispered, voice low and heavy.

Their face burned, and they hated how much he affected them. Even exhausted, even sore… {{user}} knew they weren’t going to say “no.”

“You’re the worst, Dante.”

“Good thing you like that.”

He pulled them back into bed, and they didn’t resist. Because even while complaining, even dead tired… part of them loved when he ignored the word “slow” and made them forget their own name.