100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids-Chapter 362 - 361 - It is not Loose... Test Yourself
"It absolutely does not—" She stopped herself. Her voice had gone sharp and high, which was undignified. She put the dish down on the clean side with more care than was necessary, buying herself a breath, and tried again. "Nothing about it is loose."
Viktor tilted his head the other direction. He was still looking at the same place with the thoughtful expression of a man trying to make an honest assessment.
Her face was entirely on fire.
"I apologize." He said it with complete sincerity, which was somehow worse than if he’d smirked. "I’m still—" He uncrossed his arms, running one hand through his hair, and for just a moment he looked genuinely uncertain, like a man genuinely fumbling. "I’m going to be a father. Soon. So I find myself thinking about these things more than I used to, and I don’t actually know—what does a woman’s body look like after birth? How does it change? I haven’t been one."
Vivian looked at him.
He looked back. Dark eyes, patient, entirely open.
The thing was—she’d raised Gwen. She knew what genuine ignorance looked like versus performed ignorance. And there was something in his expression that was frustratingly, convincingly real—the faint confusion of someone who had never thought to ask before and was now encountering a territory of knowledge that hadn’t been required of him until now.
She breathed out through her nose.
"It’s—" She stopped. Started again. "Yes. Fine. It changes."
"How?"
"Things... fill out. The hips. The thighs. The—" She gestured vaguely. "Everything becomes fuller. The body retains things differently after you’ve carried a child. It’s not heavy. It’s—"
She was explaining to him. She was actually explaining this to him. Standing in a kitchen at night explaining the physiology of post-pregnancy bodies to a man who was still looking somewhere that was not her face.
"—fuller," she finished, with emphasis, as if the word might redirect his attention.
His eyes moved up. Finally. Found hers.
He nodded slowly. "That’s..." He paused. "That makes sense." Another pause. "What about—"
"Don’t," Vivian said.
"—the other—"
"I said don’t."
But he was already speaking, and there was something in his tone—still earnest, still that slightly fumbling quality, a man asking a question that embarrassed him slightly but that he needed the answer to—
"After birth," Viktor said. "Does the vagina become... loose as well?"
The kitchen was absolutely silent.
The water had stopped running. Vivian had turned it off without knowing she’d done it.
She stared at him. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶
"What," she said, "are you talking about."
"I know it’s—I know." He held both hands up, a quick gesture of acknowledged awkwardness. "I know how that sounds. But my wife—" He stopped, turned, and his gaze moved toward the doorway. Through it, visible past the corridor, the warm glow of the sitting room. The sound of Bella’s voice, and Gwen’s reluctant laugh. And there—seated, one hand on her belly, dark hair loose around her shoulders and those sharp green eyes catching the light—Mira.
Vivian followed his gaze.
She looked at Mira. At the obvious intelligence in her face, the proprietary ease with which she occupied a space, the way she held herself even pregnant. At the considerable generosity of her build even now, curves straining against a dress that had been fitted well once.
Something in Vivian’s mouth went dry, unaccountably.
She looked back at Viktor.
"Mira," he said, his voice lower now, quieter. "She is—she has needs. Strong ones." He looked slightly uncomfortable, which was doing something very convincing to her assessment of him. "I worry that after birth, I won’t be able to—satisfy her in the ways she needs. I’ve been thinking about it more than I should. Whether things change. Whether it would be different." He looked at her directly. "You’ve given birth. You would know."
Vivian’s throat moved.
She told herself to think clearly. She told herself to consider who she was talking to and what this conversation had been doing in increments for the past ten minutes.
Her brain said these things.
Her mouth, apparently, had a different agenda.
"It doesn’t," she heard herself say. Her voice came out slightly strained. "Become loose. That’s not how it works. The body is— the muscles recover. If anything—the sensitivity—" She stopped. Her ears felt hot. "It doesn’t loosen," she said firmly. "The perception of that comes from men who don’t know what they’re looking at."
Viktor nodded. The serious nod of someone absorbing important information.
"But it does change," he said. "Even a little."
"In ways that—" She stopped again. "Why are you asking me this?"
"Because you’ve been through it," Viktor said simply. "And you’re here."
His eyes were on her face now. Completely. Those dark eyes that held too much and gave nothing back, patient as standing water. Looking at her with a directness that should have been rude but somehow wasn’t—or was, but in a way that pinned her in place rather than drove her away.
"You’d know," he said. "From the inside."
Vivian opened her mouth.
"Can I check?" Viktor said.
The words landed in the kitchen air with the cleanness of something dropped from a height.
Vivian’s eyes went wide.
"I’m sorry?" she said.
"Whether it changed." He held her gaze. "How tight it still is."
She felt something happen to her vision—a brief, almost dizzying sharpness. "What are you saying—"
"I know how it sounds." His voice was quick, gentle, threading through her shock before it could harden. Both hands came up again—that gesture of open palms, non-threatening, almost apologetic. "I know. I’m sorry. I just—I’m scared."
"Scared."
"Of not being enough for her after the birth." He said it quietly. Seriously. The playfulness of the last twenty minutes had gone—something more stripped-down in its place, something that looked very much like a man admitting something that cost him something. "She’s—she gives everything to me. To this family. And if I can’t give her what she needs after—"
He stopped.
He looked at her.
And his expression was—
Wrong, something in Vivian said. This is wrong. This has been wrong for twenty minutes and you have known it every step of the way.
And yet.
"I’m not asking you to—" Viktor’s voice was careful now, each word measured. "I’m asking you to help me understand. So I’m not going into this blind. So I can be what she needs."
He took one step toward her.
Not close. Just—closer.
"Vivian." His voice was very low. Her name in his mouth, for the first time, and it landed wrong and right simultaneously in her chest. "Please. Just help me a little. No one would have to know. Just us, here."
Her throat had closed.
She looked at him.
And then she looked past him, through the doorway.
The corridor. The warm light at the end of it. The sounds of conversation—Bella’s excited voice describing something, a story, gesturing probably with those quick hands—and Gwen’s voice again, short and surprised and genuine, the sound of her daughter forgetting for a moment that she was guarded. The sound of Gwen actually being young and alive and safe, sitting in a warm house with food in her belly, laughing at a story about an archer.
Helena’s serenity. Mira’s sharpness. The ease with which they had all sat together and talked and eaten as if this was simply a normal evening, as if safety was ordinary, as if there was nothing unusual about warmth.
Vivian’s eyes came back to Viktor.
He was waiting. Those dark eyes held hers, steady, not rushing her, not pressing—just waiting, with the particular patience of someone who had already decided how this ended and was simply allowing her the time to arrive there herself.
Her lips trembled.
"You won’t tell anyone?" she heard herself say.
Her own voice sounded far away. Like someone else’s.
Viktor’s expression didn’t shift. Didn’t triumph, didn’t soften, didn’t change in any way that would have given her something to push against.
He simply shook his head.
"No one would ever know," he said quietly. "Except us."
// Right Husband...//
//Fufu~ Making excuse to test tightness? You are a pervert husband //
// Young lord but what if we truly became loose after birth? //
The silence lasted exactly as long as Viktor let it.
Which was long enough for Vivian to hear herself breathing. Long enough for the sound of Gwen’s laughter to carry one more time through the kitchen doorway, bright and unguarded. Long enough for the quiet of the room to press in on her from all sides and make her aware, with a clarity that arrived too late to be useful, exactly how thoroughly she had been walked to this edge.
Then Viktor chuckled.
Low. Unhurried. The sound of a man who had won a game three moves ago and was only now turning to look at the board.
Something about the sound of it—the warmth in it, the absence of cruelty—made it worse than triumph would have. It reached under her composure and found the part of her that had been trembling since he’d stepped behind her at the sink, and the tremble broke outward through her chest and down through her hands. She felt her fingers curl against the counter.
Her teeth found her lower lip. Bit down.
"You can—" She stopped. Her voice came out wrong—too thin, too careful, like glass being tested. She tried again. "You can check."
The words existed in the world now. She couldn’t take them back.
She turned toward the counter—away from him—and her hands found the edge of it and she leaned forward slightly, her palms flat against the worn wood. Her hips shifted—a small, half-conscious adjustment, her weight redistributing, her legs moving apart by a fraction that amounted to the body doing something the mind hadn’t quite authorized yet.
She looked back over her shoulder.
Her face was entirely, catastrophically hot.
"J-just be Gentle..."
