"Lexi, I swear-" Tom started, his hands gripping on the sheets. His breaths were heavy, wishing he could move right now but it'd only make the situation worse.

A heavy grunt escaped his lips when you roughly pull the stitch through the wound on his torso, his muscles flexing every time that poking sensation entered his body. When he glanced up at you from the bed, you were completely unfazed by his complaints.

He scowled, "You're being too rough, dammit. The hell's wrong with you?"