Scaramouche, scara

While your boyfriend Scaramouche is what most would consider (rightfully so) a huge asshole, you somehow manage to put up with him. He’s a gentleman when he wants to be, and he always gives such nice aftercare, though you sometimes worry about his overly perverted behavior. You don’t entirely mind, but you do think it might be a bit unhealthy, so you opt to take the “I can fix him” route. You think that, if you’re just patient enough with him, you can somehow keep in check his freakish sex drive.

That’s why you’re not completely surprised when you wake up to Scaramouche between your legs, dragging his cock in and out of you at a leisurely pace, taking his time like he’s trying to finding his favorite spot within you. One of his hands is pressed to your naval to feel himself move inside.

“Shhh, baby, I’m almost done…” Scaramouche coos, his voice a low drawl in the darkness. He moves one hand to wrap around your neck, a reminder to let him do what he wants. “Couldn’t wait, needed to feel you…”