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Scaramouche’s office is grand. It's fancy-yet-very-fitting-of-him decor is always what strikes most when they first walk in. Plush, dark-colored couches face the opposite of each other, a glazed and gold-lined coffee table set between them. Rows of bookcases were filled with books of every size, and a large, intimidating office desk in the middle. It’s front showcases a large carving of the Fatui symbol. Large, arching windows make up for the majority of the back wall that the huge desk faces away from. The intricately designed curtains are half drawn back, the middle of the day providing ample sunlight to showcase the beauty of the room without being blinding. Scaramouche is seated in a comfy chair at his desk, eyes focused as a quill pen rests between his slender fingers. His paperwork is scattered around, in different stacks or either crumpled up or torn out of anger. His eyes flicker up in wordless acknowledgment as you enter.
"Busy as usual I see," you hum, waltzing up to rest your hands on the desk and you lean over him.
"I don't believe you're supposed to be here right now. Aren't you recovering from a cold?" His eyes dart back down to the paperwork, but it's clear his attention has shifted solely on to you. You’d been sick for three days straight now, so you hadn't seen him at all during the time you've been resting in bed.
"My fever finally broke. I'm pretty much as good as new!" You twirl around in excitement and walk towards one of the bookshelves that held a gramophone. You set a random record in and slow music begins to fill the room. Scaramouche scoffs, eyeing your figure as it begins to sway to the music.
"If you see that I'm busy, then why come to my office just to play music-" sudden knocking interrupts him, and you immediately freeze.
"My Lord, is the Miss in there? She snuck out of bed this morning before the doctor could see her, is it alright if I come in?" A servant’s voice frantically asks on the other side of the door. Scaramouche turns to you smugly as you look around in panic.
"Good as new, huh? I should have expected you'd do something like this."
"Ugh, shut up and help me hide! I was sick of being in bed all day, okay? And I really am better!" You whisper loudly and scamper to his side and shove his legs out of the way and crawl under his desk. He grunts, “Stop being such a child-!"
"Sir, can I come in?" The servant asks again. The man in question looks down between his legs to see your begging face and a finger pressed between your lips, a silent plea to keep you hidden. Scaramouche groans in eventful compliance. He puts a hand over his face in annoyance as he leans back over his paperwork.
"Yes, come in." Not a beat off, a Fatui grunt opens one of the double doors and scuttles in.
"Have you happened to see the Miss today? She disappeared before the doctor could see her, insisting she was better, and we still haven't found her. We're getting a little worried-" Scaramouche holds up a hand to stop the poor soul.
"So, an entire house of servants can't find a single girl? What do I pay you for, to work with your mouths?" Suddenly, a soft pressure is felt on his crotch. Scaramouche almost flinches and his head tilts downwards, his hand curling into a fist. Your eyes are half-lidded and your mouth is pressed against his forming tent. He can practically hear the words you'd be saying in this moment: “I can definitely work with my mouth.”
The Harbinger's head whips back up at the servant as he speaks up again.
"N-no, of course not, my Lord! We'll search for her again." Scaramouche feels heat starting to build up in his face as your fingers trace the outline of his hard-on.
"Then hurry up and leave." Wordlessly, the servant flees. As he goes, a different Fatui soldier peeks her head from the doorway. Scaramouche curses under his breath as you're tugging his pants down and freeing his erection.
"My Lord, I've come with the recent reports you asked for." A small pile of papers is set on his desk and the woman begins talking, but it's in one ear and out the other for the Inazuman man. His attention is wholly on how well you’re sucking him off under the table. Though at first annoyed, he is now incredibly thankful you turned the gramophone on. The music was just loud enough to cover up the soft, squishy sounds your saliva made as you lapped up his precum. He glances down just as you shove his cock as far down your throat as it can reach, and the small moment of heated eye contact makes his dick twitch between the walls of your throat. He clears his own throat as he looks back up at the droning on female, but for the life of him he cannot pay attention. His fingers lace together and he leans on his hands in silent anguish, wanting nothing but to thrust into your mouth in retaliation. A few more seconds pass, and as you're kissing up the side of his length, Scaramouche coughs again.
"How about we save this for another time? I'm a bit busy at the moment." He leans over and opens a small drawer and tosses something at the servant. She fumbles but ultimately catches it.
"That's my spare office key. Lock the door on your way out and tell everyone no one may enter no matter what until I say. I'll fetch the key from you later, so, kindly, don't come back." The look in his eyes made the Fatui soldier nod and leave promptly. He doesn't move until he hears a soft click from the other side of the room. Immediately, Scaramouche shoots up from his desk, grabs you, and effortlessly picks you up off the ground and throws you into the desk, facing away from him. Papers fly and become strewn about, but he doesn't seem to care.
"You have a lot of nerve to be pulling stunts like that." He seethes, and a single hand presses in the middle of your back, holding you down against his paperwork. His other hand tugs your clothes down enough to showcase your ass.
"And your point is? You definitely liked it." You challenge, and you feel a hand rest on your rear.
"Cheeky today, aren't we? Did you miss me that much those last three days that the second you see me, you suck me off?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer. A sharp slap resounds as you yelp, but the pain is quickly turning into pleasure. Scaramouche chuckles.
“We’ve barely started and I can see how wet you are already. You really did like having my cock stuffed down your throat, huh, my little dog?” A single digit strokes down your folds, sending shivers down your spine. You can’t help but surrender to his intoxicating words.
“I still need to punish you for making a mockery of me while in front of others. I won’t be too harsh, though. You did a good job at not getting us caught.” His hand glides down your back, and he shifts himself until he is directly behind you, hands holding your hips. His thumbs massage into you, and you sigh into the sensual touches.
“Now, tell me. Which do you prefer? A good spanking, or something a little more… shocking?” You can practically hear his shit-eating grin as a single finger presses into one of your cheeks, and you whip your head around to look at him.
“Wait-!“ A shock of electricity shoots through you, making you gasp loudly. It didn’t last for more than a second, and it definitely wasn’t painful. Your face flushes, redness spreading to your ears and down your neck as you realize it felt good. Really good.
“Ha! What a reaction! I guess I got my answer.” He leans over you, pressing his half-clothed erection to your bare sex. He takes the lobe of your ear into his mouth, nipping it playfully. His breath on the shell of your ear makes you tremble.
“Such a good dog I own. You’re taking your punishment quite well.” His hands are mercilessly groping you now, his fingers every once in a while sending sparks of electricity up and down your body. You moan, yelp, and whimper with each shock, knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the table so hard. His hands eventually leave your shaking body, and you hear his hat jingle as it hits the floor. Before you can react, he presses up to you again, and this time you can feel his tip kissing your entrance. He rubs himself against your slick, coating himself generously.
“Let’s not waste time, I have some things to tend to later. Be a good slut and take what I give you, okay?” And Scaramouche proceeds to push himself into you, your hole practically pulling him inside. You can’t help but moan loudly, knowing full well you can be heard from the outside. Scaramouche grabs your wrists, pulling your arms back as he begins to pound into you.
“That’s it, just like that.” His pace is solid, his hips pushing into yours so hard it makes the enormous desk shake. His dick feels so hot and good inside you that you’re drooling on the table, babbling his name and profanities senselessly. Scaramouche shifts again, taking both wrists in one hand to pin behind your back and the other cups your ass again.
“You look so pathetic, pinned under me like this. Always so submissive if it means you’ll get to cum on my dick, huh?” He shocks your rear again, making you squeal. As he fucks into you, he’s switching from spanking your ass to sending little shocks. You can’t tell how many times you’ve came from the immense pleasure, but at a particular point he growls and holds your hips down, and begins to fuck into you erratically.
“Getting this tight, you came again, didn’t you? I didn’t say you could, but it’s fine. Here, have a reward.” And you’re seeing stars as you feel his warm cum spill into you. He moans breathily over you, taking a moment to stay deep inside while he empties his first load. You’re limp over his desk, sticky from sweat and chest heaving from the intense scene. Scaramouche removes himself, but only gives enough room to flip you over so you’re facing him, sitting up on the table. His hands take your thighs, spreading your legs and he enjoys the view. You feel yourself flush impossibly redder.
“Don’t look!” Hands flying up to your face as he admires his cum dripping down your hole and onto the desk.
“Who said you could hide your face?” Scaramouche closes in on you again, and his hands enclose around yours, fingers intertwining as he moves them away. Instead, you turn your face away in embarrassment. Scaramouche hums in amusement, face getting close to yours in an attempt to make eye contact.
“I guess you can be cute when you want to be.” He mumbles. One hand leaves to help center himself into your hole again, the other squeezing your hand. It makes your heart squeeze too. He enters you again, until he’s as far deep as he can go. You fall back onto the desk, and his free hand rests beside you to help him lean over your form.
“Actually, I think I like this view better compared to the previous. I quite like that face you’re making.” His handsome smirk sends pangs of starstruck love through you. He starts rutting into you again, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Only I can see you like this, you hear me? Only I can see what your expression looks like when you’re this high on lust, the face you make when you cum… it all belongs to me. You’re mine.” He talks dirtily through his rough and hard thrusts, and you can only moan in agreement. The only thoughts racing through your head is Scaramouche. Scaramouche, Scaramouche, Scaramouche. You can only bring yourself to think about how good everything feels right now, every thrust that hits just the right spot, how he knows exactly what words to whisper to make you bend to his will, what places to touch to mold you into his plaything. He curses suddenly, bringing you out of your hazy thoughts of him.
"And because of that, it's only right that I mark what's mine, right? Inside and out." He groans, and his words make jolts of pleasure run down your body.
"Yes, please! Mark me, Scaramouche, I need you to!" You beg, words barely coherent to your own ears. He needs no other affirmation as he bites into the crook of your neck at the same time he sends a last rough thrust into you, cumming inside of you once again. It's enough to throw you over the edge and you cum hard, nails digging into his hand and toes curled. You gasp and shudder until you've subsided into a whimpering mess, from the pain of the bite and the pleasure of everything else. He begins licking up the blood of the bite wound, kissing it softly and around it as well. His sweaty palm lets go of yours, and you realize this is the first time he let go of your hand since the second round of love-making. He slowly lifts you into a comfortable sitting position, his mouth never leaving your neck once. You hug him back, sighing in contentment. He pets your head as he kisses your neck a final time, a prolonged and meaningful kiss that has you over the moon for him.
"I love you." You mumble over his shoulder.
"We should get dressed. I'll worry about picking up the paperwork, you should hurry and get out of hiding. Those incompetent servants are probably ready to burn this whole place down just to find you." He pulls away from you, but you can only nod in response as you look at him. He's dismissive of your words of affection, but you know it's only because he's embarrassed.
You also know that he doesn't even need to say the words back. The sparkle in Scaramouche’s eyes and the way he's still holding you is more than enough to help you hear the words he can't bring himself to say out loud. He pulls away and begins to gather himself and his things.
“Also, don’t even think of trying to hide that. It’s my mark, remember that.” He smirks as he picks his hat up off the ground. A hand flies to his bite on your neck, fingertips gently brushing the grooves his teeth left. You blush.
“And if you keep blushing like that, the doctor will still think you’re sick and make you rest in bed again. Though, that may be for the best if you find you can’t walk.” And he can’t help but bark out a small laugh as you throw the closest object on his desk at him.