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Summary
"Fucking hell, Scaramouche... you're gonna drive me absolutely insane one day."
"Get off me!" Scaramouche scowled, eyes wild and enraged, still struggling, his nails digging into the skin of Dottore's arm still locked onto him."Why? Isn't this what you wanted?" Dottore spoke in a low tone as he roughly forced Scaramouche over onto his stomach and began ripping off his shorts.
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Scaramouche is at his worst behavior and Dottore treats him accordingly. But there's an underlying darkness tormenting the balladeer that you can't just fuck out of existence.
