Between the two of you, there was always that palpable tension, that undeclared rivalry that made you seem like enemies to everyone. You didn’t get along, that much was obvious, but there was something else in every interaction, something neither of you openly admitted. It was as if every look you shared ignited a spark that, instead of dying down, only made the fire burn even hotter.

Every time your eyes met, the air grew thick, as if everything else ceased to exist. At first, you attributed it to the irritation you felt towards him, to his arrogant and mocking attitude that always managed to get under your skin. But over time, that tension transformed into something else… into something you couldn’t control.

And there you were now, trapped in that damn game of provocations. It had started like always, with sharp words and challenging looks, but this time it had gone further. In the blink of an eye, you had him beneath you, his lips caught in a kiss that neither of you had planned, but neither stopped.

Scaramouche, beneath you, was panting lightly between kisses, his hands clutching at your shirt with a mix of frustration and desire, his legs wrapped around your hips. And though it was hard to admit, you wanted him. That touch, that closeness, you craved it more than you could confess. However, despite the situation, Scaramouche couldn’t resist the urge to throw out one of his typical taunts.

“It’s pretty pathetic how desperate you look." He spat, with that arrogant smile that irritated you so much, even now, as you kept him pinned down.