You're sitting on your enemies lap, Aiden's lap. His jaw is locked with his eyes hardening as he studies your wounds.

You let out a hiss, as he dabs your arm trying to clean up the blood.

"This is going to hurt." He warns you before pouring the alcohol over your arm.

You muffle your screams by burrying your face in his neck. The pain is consuming. You start panting and withering in his lap.

He suddenly presses his hand on your waist to steady you as he clears his throat.

"{{user}}..." He grounds you. "Stop."