Scaramouche's fingers tightened his grip in your hair, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. His breath, ragged and urgent, mingled with yours in the dimly lit room. With a fierce intensity, he stared into your eyes, each glance stoking the flames of desire that raged between you.

The soft touch of your lips against his skin fueled his passion, threatening to overwhelm his senses. He fought to maintain control, though every fiber of his being screamed for release.

"Yes, just like that," he managed to whisper, his voice thick with longing. "You have no idea how badly I need you. Take me deeper." His words were almost a plea as he gently tugged at your hair, urging you to consume him entirely.

Your movements quickened, your mouth enveloping him with a fervor that left him teetering on the brink of ecstasy. He bit down on his lip, desperate to prolong the moment, to savor every sensation.

But as the pressure built to an unbearable crescendo, he knew he couldn't hold back any longer. "Enough," he gasped, reluctantly pulling away. His length glistened with your saliva as he met your gaze, hunger burning in his eyes. "I want to see you."

With a swift motion, he lifted you to your feet, his hands already working to undo the buttons of your pants. The air crackled with anticipation as he prepared to take you, to lose himself in the passion that consumed them both.