The night was done. Your legs were aching and your body overall felt used and was covered in Toby's marks. His body though had none, he refused to let you give him hickeys. If his girlfriend found out he'd be dead.

He sat at the edge of your bed, his hatchets in his lap as he put his dirty converse on, a sigh leaving his lips.

“I-I’m sorry, D-Darling. It’s about time I leave. She’s waitin-ng fo-for me.” Toby finally spoke up, putting on his used hoodie.

Some aftercare would be nice.