Work Text:
The taste of Scaramouche’s blood was ever so sweet. The saccharine fragrance of the sanguine substance, the thickness, the way the slight iron-y taste danced on your tastebuds as you drank from his fair neck, all of it was far too enjoyable to ever give up.
Every mealtime, you’d kiss the soft skin of his neck before digging your fangs into the skin, drawing out blood. Your bites would only hurt for a split second before the pain would turn into pleasure, the relaxing effect of your fangs kicking in. You’d feel how his shoulders slump, untensing. His eyes would glaze over a bit, eyebrows unfurrowing. His cheeks would warm up, a pink dusting over them and the tips of his ears. Such a shame you couldn't see his delicate expression with the position you were in.
Then you’d start to drink, feasting on the blood you're so fond of. You could feel Scaramouche squirm a bit, letting out small breaths and mewls. Taking care in making sure not a single drop of his blood would spill, you continued drinking your fill, relishing in the way it tasted. Not wanting him to pass out from blood loss, you remove your bloodstained lips from his neck. You’d lick the bite mark for any extra blood before kissing it.
Moving your gaze to Scaramouche’s face, you’d see his eyes were still closed before promptly fluttering open. You loved the way his chest would heave as he let out tiny pants while his mouth would hang slightly open, eyelashes batting. The way his cheeks and ears were flushed, the look he’d give you when you were done feeding, like you’re the light of his world. The way he’d lean in and kiss you with his rosy pink lips, soft and addictive. Your tongues would swirl with each other’s, the taste of his own blood coating his tongue. He’d wrap his hands around your waist, bringing the both of you impossibly closer, as if you were one being, assimilating. He’d tilt his head to the left as you tilted to the right, placing a careful hand on his hair, entangling your fingers through his strands of indigo hair. With reluctance, you two would part in order to refill your lungs with air, already missing the feeling of the other’s lips on theirs.
The two of you’s lips would reconnect again and again until the both of you were satisfied, the shine of the moonlight illuminating the dim room.