He turned.
He walked two steps.
He stopped.
Bella's tail had lifted. She'd made a small sound behind him, the specific sound of someone hoping that the stopping means a reversal of the preceding directive.
Viktor looked at himself.
At the cock that was still — 'still,' after everything, after Vivian and Elara and this — standing in the way of something that had decided it was not finished. Wet with Bella. Flushed at the tip. Entirely uninterested in putting itself away.
He looked at the unconscious Gwen.
At the silver-blonde hair spread across the floor. At the thick-bodied elven archer who had aimed an arrow at him today with more genuine intent than anyone had aimed anything at him in months.
He looked at his cock.
He walked back.
Bella watched him.
Her eyes tracked from his face to his hand to the motion of the hand and arrived at what was happening approximately one second before it began happening.
He stood over Gwen.
