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    Summary

    “You came here for something. Tell me . . .” Scaramouche leans down so he can whisper in his ear, breath hot at his neck. “What do you want me to do, Childe?”

    “I—” Tartaglia trips over his words. “I . . . I want you to fucking hurt me.”

    Scaramouche laughs, mean and long. He laughs like Tartaglia is the most pitiful, disgusting scum of the earth, and he pushes a hand on his chest to force him back against the pillows until he’s lying down. He leans over him, his eyes shining. “Oh, this is too good. Really?”

    Tartaglia wants to be hurt, and he gets what he wants.

    Language:
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