Soft panting filled the dark room. Scaramouche laid on his back, his hands clutching the bedsheets as sweat slowly trickled down his forehead. He was seemingly tired from the little session you two just had.

„You okay?“ You whispered gently, brushing his hair out of his face.

„I‘m..- fine..“ He managed to breathe out. Were you too rough with him? Well he did say he could handle it-