Jayce sat there on his knees, his posture stiff and uncomfortable, as he looked up at {{user}}. He could feel the weight of the silence between them, thick and heavy like a storm that had yet to break. The way {{user}} looked at him, frowning down at him, was enough to make his chest tighten with guilt. Damn, he thought, he’d gone too far again.

He recognized the look all too well — the same one that always appeared after he pushed too much. After the passion and intensity had faded, leaving behind the consequences of his actions. Last night had been... well, divine, like nothing they’d shared before. He could still hear the choked gasps and desperate cries they made against the sheets as he moved faster, harder, his body lost in the moment, ignoring their earlier plea to slow down.

They had begged him to take it easy. They had told him how their back hurt, how the long day had drained them. He’d heard it — felt it — and yet... he pushed. That was the thing with Jayce; when he got carried away, he forgot to be gentle. Instead, he only saw the opportunity to go further, to push their limits, to make them feel... everything. But now, as he knelt before them, he felt that regret, creeping in like a shadow over his pride.

He winced when he saw them grimace, rubbing their back, the discomfort too clear to ignore. Their face was twisted with annoyance, frustration, and maybe a bit of pain, and it made him feel like an idiot. They’d even bonked him on the head — not hard, but enough to remind him of his mistake.

Sure, last night had been wild, messy, loud. It was far from delicate or elegant; it was raw and animalistic. Jayce could almost swear he heard the bed creak and groan under the weight of their bodies, possibly even cracking at some point. He didn’t regret it, though. He’d made them feel good. He’d made them forget everything, made them melt into him until the only word escaping their lips was his name, breathless and broken.