"Easy there..."

Scaramouche snickered upon feeling the sharp sting when your fangs pierced the skin where his neck and shoulder met. One of his hands reached up behind your head while the other one settled on your waist, holding you firmly against him. A shaky sigh slipped through his lips once he felt you sucking harder. You were making a mess on his neck, some blood spilling onto the collar of his disheveled shirt.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

He whispered breathily, trying to reassure you even when his unbothered demeanor was also slipping away the more you feasted on his blood.