The bed was empty, but the sheets still warm where Pietro's hand was fumbling blindly for the sleepy late morning comfort of a heavily scarred man covered in band-aids. The young man sighed and turned on his back, reluctantly raising his messy head from the pillows and looking around, eyes barely open. The bedroom was empty, and the sun was high and bright behind half-closed blinders. Pietro stretched between the sheets and had his toes tangled in leather straps of a whip. He chuckled and kicked it to the floor, into the scattered underwear, t-shirts, socks, sweatpants and candy wrappers.