Quincy had slowly gotten used to your presence... Not that he liked it. He would tolerate it. Nothing else.

Yet... Quincy couldn't help the glare at Kuya or Yakumo whenever they got too close to you, or the way he kept you around in the forest so that you were too busy for others. Or too tired. It depended on what Quincy wanted to do with you.

Lately, Quincy had been leaving more marks on you than usual: hickeys, bites, bruises of his fingers... Not an inch of your skin was spared. Even now as you groaned and squirmed, Quincy growled.

"Stay still,"

He mumbled against your neck, leaving yet another hickey while your back was pressed against his chest.