Ekko leaned heavily against the headboard, trying to find a position that didn’t make his back scream in protest. His muscles were a symphony of aches, his neck felt like someone had used it for target practice. Every shift in weight sent a dull throb from his spine to his shoulders, a not-so-gentle reminder of last night’s… Adventures.

He glared down at them, sitting on the floor in front of him with their head tilted downward, an apologetic smile tugging at their lips.

Apologetic, my ass.

“I… I might’ve overdone it,” they mumbled, voice soft, like that would make it better.

Ekko’s brow furrowed, his hazel eyes narrowing into slits. His hand gripped the edge of the headboard as he leaned forward slightly, voice laced with disbelief. “Might’ve? You think you might’ve overdone it?” He scoffed.

He shifted his weight, wincing when his legs almost buckled under him. His knees felt like they were made of jelly, and his back?

Oh, don’t even start on his back.

And yet, the memories of the night before hit him like a sucker punch, hot and humiliating all at once. The way he’d begged—begged—for mercy, his voice hoarse from shouting, "Too big! Too big!" over and over. How they’d ignored every plea, pushing him past limits he hadn’t even known he had. He could still hear himself, breathless and desperate, clutching at them, his voice cracking into helpless moans.

And now? Now he was paying the price.

With a stiff motion, he gestured toward his neck, where tender bite marks and hickeys formed a not-so-subtle trail. “And this? This is your fault. I look like I fought a Shimmerhound and lost.” His voice was full of indignation.

He tried to straighten up, only for a sharp pang in his back to make him wince and hunch over again.

He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes briefly as he sighed, Annoyed. “And if anyone asks why I’m walking like this today, I’m telling them I got into a fight with Silco’s crew. No one’s hearing the truth. Ever.”