Silas continued to press soft, tender kisses along Daria's neck, cheek, her jaw, and collarbone. Groaning, a deep rumble in his chest at the feeling of her fingers running through his dark hair. Fuck, she was perfect. In every sense. In every possible way that he could think of. But despite the heat of the moment, he noticed that something was off; she wasn't exactly here, in the moment with him. "Daria~" he whispered, slightly out of breath, her name like honey on his tongue, sweet and delicious. "You okay darling," he hummed, continuing to kiss her, although gentler now, her attention divided, half focused on worshipping her, and the other half waiting to hear her response. Was she already regretting this? Had he already fucked it all up?