The Morning After

Author's Note: sorry guys for the lack of update after all these days, I've been busy with a lot of things and there has also been a lack of inspiration and motivation so I just found my feet back and we can now finally continue the story, forgive me for the lack of update and I hope you people enjoy this chapter.

Vivian woke up the next morning, every inch of her body screaming in protest. The soreness was unbearable. Muscles she didn't even know she had been aching, leaving her so drained she could barely lift a finger. The events of last night crashed back into her memory like a tidal wave. It had been chaotic, overwhelming, an experience that pushed her beyond exhaustion until her body simply gave out and consciousness slipped away.

No one had ever prepared her for something like this. Despite how much care the original host of this body had taken with her health over the years, the advantages of good nutrition and careful maintenance didn't compare to the relentless force of Leonard's body. He was a man forged from years of training, every movement powered by hard-earned strength. Vivian, on the other hand, had never endured anything more physically demanding than the occasional social event. She was just a normal woman, one who had lived a relatively sheltered life.

And yet, all of that seemed irrelevant under Leonard.

What stunned her more was how last night unfolded despite both of them being virgins. Leonard's lack of experience only showed in small moments, a clumsy touch here, an unsure shift there, but it didn't matter. The more time passed, the more Leonard seemed to thrive. While she struggled to keep up, trembling and breathless, he only became stronger, more unrelenting.

He had been patient at first, taking his time to prepare her body, drawing out every moment. His touches had been deliberate, and careful, even as the hunger behind them was barely restrained. Vivian could tell he had been holding himself back, trying to make the experience bearable for her, despite the hardness pressing against her and the tension she felt beneath his skin. And when it finally happened, when he finally claimed her, she was surprised by the lack of sharp pain.

Was it because he had been so gentle, or because years of her enduring pain in the hospital bed for years had dulled her threshold for the physical? Or perhaps, it was the careful way he entered her, slow and precise, as if measuring every inch. But that gentleness didn't last. Once the first waves of pleasure took over and they were both swept up in it, Leonard lost that careful restraint.

At some point, he stopped holding back entirely.

He filled her completely, his every thrust deep and punishing, sending her spiraling into a haze where pain and pleasure became indistinguishable. She remembered clutching at him, gasping for breath, begging him to slow down. But instead, it felt as if her cries only fueled him, as if each moan, each tremble, was gasoline to the fire burning inside him.

By the end, she had nothing left. Her body was limp, broken down to its most vulnerable state. Her throat was raw from crying and moaning, her lips and eyes swollen from tears and kisses, and her skin, god, her milk-like white skin, was covered in dark marks. They were everywhere. On her neck, her chest, her back, her stomach, even her thighs and calves. It was as if he had mapped every inch of her, branding her as his.

But what unsettled her most was the recklessness of it all. Leonard hadn't bothered to pull out, finishing inside her repeatedly, ignoring every consequence. Vivian gritted her teeth as the memory stung fresh in her mind. Were they not divorced? What the hell was he thinking? Was he trying to trap her with a child? The thought boiled her blood. She had just found freedom, and tasted what it meant to step beyond control, and now it felt like Leonard was already plotting to tether her back to him in the most permanent way possible.

The worst part? There was nothing she could do about it. She was stuck here, completely reliant on him. There was no escape route. Even if she wanted to find a doctor, get a pill, or disappear, Leonard was her only means out. And deep down, Vivian knew he would never give her something as simple as a contraceptive. He was too calculating for that.

Yet, through all her anger, there was an unwelcome warmth pooling in her chest. A twisted satisfaction. A quiet longing. She clenched her fists. This wasn't her. This was the original Vivian, the one who used to care for Leonard, who still lingered in the corners of her mind like a stubborn ghost.

With a frustrated sigh, Vivian forced herself upright. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through her body, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through. As her eyes scanned the empty room, disappointment crept in. Leonard was gone. After everything they had shared last night, the least he could have done was stay until morning.

The bed was pristine, the sheets replaced, and her skin cleaned. His handiwork, no doubt, since they were the only ones here. But that only left her feeling more exposed. She was naked beneath the sheets, her clothes nowhere in sight. Alone in this unfamiliar place, body bruised and claimed, she was left to stew in discomfort, uncertainty, and the simmering confusion of her own conflicting emotions.

And as she sat there, staring at the door, the same question echoed in her mind, where the hell had Leonard gone?

Meanwhile, Leonard was in another part of the house, specifically, the kitchen. He wore only his trousers, leaving his upper body bare. His sculpted, sinfully perfect physique was exposed, muscles shifting effortlessly as he moved, but there was no one around to admire it. No one, except for a single raven, who knelt on one knee before him as he cooked with casual ease.

"My lord," the raven spoke quietly, head bowed, "the old duke will enter the capital tomorrow."