"Aaahnn!! HNNGHH.... IT HURTS... AAH... HAAAH.... W-wait~~!!!"
Her hands found his chest.
Pushing. The two-handed push of someone whose body had received information and had produced the automatic, self-preservation response — her palms flat against his bandaged ribs, not hitting, just pressing. The desperate press of someone saying 'no further' through the geometry of their arms.
He stopped.
Held.
Still, inside her. The patient stillness.
She was breathing in short, punched intervals. Her eyes at the ceiling. Her whole lower body doing the involuntary quivering of flesh that had been stretched past its prior reference points and was recalibrating.
"Get—" She swallowed. "Get out. Please. It's too — you're too—"
"Haven't you been fucked before?"
She stared at him.
The arrested stare.
