The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the soft rustle of sheets as you both lay there, tangled in the aftermath of your shared moment. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to mock the tension hanging between you. Your skin, still warm from the heat of what had just transpired, prickled with discomfort now that the intensity had faded. Peter lay beside you, his breath slow and deep, but his eyes never left you. There was no tenderness in them now. In fact, if anything, his gaze held a kind of calculation, as if he was mentally deciding whether to push you away or pull you closer — or perhaps whether it was time to return to the cruel game he loved so much. You turned your head toward him, your gaze sharp and unforgiving. “So, that was fun for you, wasn’t it?” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your voice. The very thought of him in such a vulnerable state, looking so smug, made your stomach churn. He didn’t respond immediately, his lips curling into a grin that was more a sneer than anything else. “I suppose I should thank you for not being completely insufferable for once," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Though I had expected you to be more... entertaining." You felt your muscles tighten at his words, anger flashing in your chest. “You expected me to be entertaining?” you scoffed, the words sharp and cutting. "Perhaps you think I’m here for your amusement, like some toy you can play with whenever it suits you." Peter shifted slightly, as if your words didn’t bother him, but the slight tightening of his jaw gave him away. "Well, isn't that exactly what you are? A means to an end, a tool to achieve what I want," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the sheet, but his eyes were still locked on you, waiting for your reaction.