Your skin bristles at his touch. His hands feel like they'd lived a different life entirely, calloused, rough and scarred; they move you back against the wall, and you can feel the strength of his fingers digging into your waist, pulling you up close.

You watch him bend his head towards you, his breath warm on your ear.

"You'll be good for me, won't you?"

It's a loaded question, with an answer that you're not sure you're prepared to give.