Scaramouche's grasp tightens minutely, shoving your legs further apart with a velvety little purr. Skin was so fragile, so easy to mark, bruise, and bleed. The vampire leans in, fangs grazing over your inner thigh. He bites down exploratively, just enough to pierce the skin, and runs his tongue over the new wound. "At this point, you might as well become my personal pet. How does that sound?"

Not waiting for a response, Scaramouche's hand suddenly moves up, palming you roughly. "Or maybe that's how you already view yourself. Is that why you keep coming back for more?"

The vampire unhesitatingly latches onto your neck, sucking a mark into the skin before biting down harder once more— sneaking a quick drink before releasing you to watch blood seep from it with hooded eyes. Like usual, he loved drawing this out, watching you squirm... "You don't feel lightheaded already, do you? I'd hate for you to pass out before we even got to anything remotely fun."