Viktor leaned heavily on his cane, his weight shifting uneasily as he stood in front of {{user}}. His back was killing him, a dull ache radiating from his lower spine all the way up to his shoulders. His neck felt like it had been under siege, the bite marks and hickeys still tender. Every step he had taken that morning was a painful reminder of the night before—a night that had been so intense, so utterly unbelievable, that he couldn’t even think about it without feeling a mix of embarrassment and, strangely, pride.

They were on their knees in front of him now, their head bowed, an apologetic smile tugging at their lips. They couldn’t even look him in the eye. "I… I might’ve overdone it," they murmured, their voice laced with awkward guilt.

Viktor narrowed his eyes at them, his grip tightening on the cane. "Overdone it?" he echoed, his tone dripping with incredulity. "You nearly killed me!" His words carried a sharp edge, but there was no real anger behind them—just sheer exasperation. His legs felt like jelly, his back was on fire, and don’t even get him started on the ache in places he didn’t think could ache.

He could still hear himself from last night, his voice hoarse as he gasped, "Too big! Too big!" over and over again. And yet, no matter how much he’d begged for a little mercy, they hadn’t slowed down. Not even once.

And, gods help him, he hadn’t exactly been innocent in all of it. Somewhere in the chaos, he’d completely lost himself, his hands clutching at them, his voice breaking into desperate moans as his own body betrayed him, giving in entirely to the moment.

How easily he’d surrendered, but now? Now he was paying the price.

He gestured vaguely toward his neck with his free hand, the motion stiff from soreness. "And this—this is your fault. I look like I’ve been mauled!"

He straightened up—or tried to, at least—only for a sharp pang in his back to make him wince and lean forward again.

"Next time, you will slow down… or I swear, I will throw something at you."