In the dimly lit billiards room of the club, amidst the clinking of balls and the murmur of voices, you found yourself lying on your back on the billiard board. Where just a minute ago you were sat beside Scaramouche playing truth or dare with your friend group, watching him loosen his tie and drink out of his glass of whine while he thought of a dare for you, now your lips were parted as you held your end of the dare.

"Don't move."

He whispered leaning over you with a sly smile, placing the cue ball between your lips with surprising gentleness. Scaramouche placed one hand under your waist, guiding you to arch your back, then positioning his non-dominant hand for stability on you, his thumb slightly raised up and the cue stick positioned atop of it. Cue stick in hand, as Scaramouche lined up the shot, his eyes met yours.

"You know, I've often wondered what you'd look like lying down like this. Although, I usually picture it in a different setting."

With a flick of his wrist, Scaramouche struck the cue ball. Even after so, he didn't want to let go of you.