Viktor moved through the dimly lit corridor of the manor, the stone walls cool and rough to the touch.
His fingers ruffled through his dark hair as he walked, still feeling the phantom warmth of Mira's body against his skin.
He was buttoning his shirt with one hand, the fabric slightly damp with sweat, while his other hand subtly adjusted his cock inside his pants. It was still half-sensitive, tingling from the recent release. The fabric of his pants stretched tight across his groin, outlining the thick shape beneath.
He glanced down at himself, running a hand over his stomach.
His belly was there, sure, but it had definitely shrunk—maybe an inch from his chest if he had to estimate.
The herbs and calorie depletion from all the fucking sessions with Mira and Helena were clearly working.
He could see the faint outline of abdominal definition starting to emerge beneath the remaining softness. His chest was broader now too, more defined.
