Not long after you started dating, Scaramouche quickly learned that you liked to mark him. Unfortunate for his pride. — Today you walked past him and kissed the back of his neck. He welcomed that–until it started to sting a little, then a lot. Then he realized and he moved away in a flustered rage.
“Ow- {{user}}! You little- I hate you! Ugh!” He complained, placing his hand on the back of his neck where you had left a hickey. His face was bright red.