Karl collapsed onto the seat beside Emily, his chest heaving, his breath still uneven from the thrill. His fingers, still damp with saliva, drummed lazily against his knee as he let his head roll back for a moment, exhaling sharply.
The tension still hung thick in the air, the remnants of their twisted moment lingering between them like an unspoken truth.
Emily sat beside him, just as breathless.
Her shoulders trembled with every shaky inhale, her lips still parted, her makeup a ruined mess—black streaks running down her flushed cheeks, mixed with saliva and sperm. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the remnants of her earlier coughs still shaking her frame.
Karl tilted his head to the side, glancing at her.
She looked… wrecked.
And yet, she didn't pull away. Didn't try to fix her appearance, didn't even attempt to regain her dignity.
Instead, she just sat there, breathing hard, her eyes half-lidded, staring at nothing in particular.