Scaramouche

One hundred years ago, the legendary "Silver Covert" was erected to shelter humanity from the relentless onslaught of demons. Around its towering stone spires, the Magic Tower was built—a sanctuary of supreme magic that kept the world safe. But such vast power came at a heavy price. To replenish their overflowing mana, the mages required "Sharings"—partners who bound their souls and replenished their magical reserves through deep, physical, and sexual communion.

To the church and temple elders, these mages were nothing more than scandalous, sinful devils. In the grand hall earlier today, the other initiates in your line shuddered in disgust and fear.

"They're wicked beasts," one initiate had whispered, her hands trembling against her holy robes. "To give one's body to a mage is to give your soul to a demon..."

Another initiate snorted softly, pulling her veil tighter. "I would rather be cast out than let one of those wretched mages lay a single finger on me."

You, however, stood silent in that line, ignoring their fearful chatter. You didn't care about the temple's lectures. You only cared about him.

The indigo-haired mage with glowing violet eyes who had saved your life as a terrified child, cradled you away from the clutches of demons, and brought you to the temple gates with a stern command to stay safe. You had spent years dreaming of the day you would grow up, join the Magic Tower, and offer him your body and soul as his "Sharing" to repay his grace.

Yet, he hadn't been in the recruitment line. The mages paraded before you were strangers, and none carried the cold, intoxicating aura of your savior.

Disappointed and restless, you had retired to your guest quarters, changing into a soft, lightweight nightgown. Seeking fresh air, you walked out onto the stone balcony, leaning against the cold marble railing as the breathtaking silver moon illuminated the vast mountain clouds below.

Swoosh.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the balcony, carrying the scent of ozone, night-blooming jasmine, and rain. A dark shadow crossed the face of the moon.

Before you could blink, a figure landed lightly on top of the narrow balcony railing right in front of you. He crouched there with dark, effortless grace.

A deep black hood draped in delicate, silver metallic netting shadowed his sharp features, framed by dark indigo fringe. The hood folded back just enough to reveal a vivid crimson inner lining, casting a deep red glow against his pale skin. Across his forehead rested a delicate metallic circlet, its central red gemstone glinting sharply beneath the moonlight, matching the golden crest brooch fastened over his high collar.

Slowly, he lifted his head, locking glowing violet eyes directly onto yours with sharp, amused intensity.

It was him. Your savior.

"Well, well..." Scaramouche purred low, his voice a smooth, velvety rasp that sent a sharp shudder straight down your spine. He stepped down from the railing, his boots making no sound as he glided forward, instantly trapping you against the cold stone railing. "Look at what the temple dragged in."

He reached out, his slender, ringed fingers catching your chin in a firm, unyielding grip, forcing your face up under the moonlight. The warmth of his skin radiated a faint, crackling hum of raw magic.

"I heard the most ridiculous rumor in the lower sanctum tonight," Scaramouche whispered, leaning in so close his warm breath fanned over your lips. "They said a foolish little temple initiate joined the Sharing recruitment specifically looking for me. They said she refused every other mage, standing there like a lost, obedient little lamb."

His violet eyes narrowed, tracing the line of your thin nightgown where your pulse hammered wildly against your throat.

"Did you really think a High Mage like me would stand in line like a common prize?" he mocked softly, a dark, wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You've grown up... yet you're still as foolish as the night I left you on those church steps."

His free hand slid down to rest firmly against your waist, his long fingers pressing through the thin fabric of your gown to pull your hips closer to his.

"Tell me, little one..." he rasped against your skin, his thumb pressing gently into your chin to force your mouth open slightly. "Do you even know what a High Mage's 'Sharing' actually entails? The priests call us devils, yet here you are, dressed in silk and shivering under my touch. Are you truly ready to give your body, your mana, and your soul to a monster like me?"

The high-ceilinged sanctuary of the Archmage’s quarters was thick with the scent of crushed night-blooming jasmine, ozone, and the slick, heavy warmth of lingering passion.

A month had passed since you left the temple gates behind to bind your soul and body to High Mage Scaramouche as his official "Sharing." A month of learning just how utterly insatiable your savior truly was. Two, sometimes three times a day, he would draw you into his silk-draped bed, claiming your body in slow, agonizingly thorough sessions under the solemn pretext of "mana replenishment."

And you, hopelessly devoted and long-influenced by his dangerous charm, had succumbed completely. How could you not? Your body had learned to crave his touch just as feverishly as his seemed to demand yours. Right now, the heavy silk sheets were tangled around your waists.

Scaramouche had you pinned back against the plush pillows, his slender, pale hands gripping your hips with bruising possessiveness as his hips rolled into a deep, agonizingly slick rhythm. His dark indigo hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead beneath the faint, crimson glint of his metallic circlet. His sharp violet eyes, heavy with dark lust and glowing with raw arcane power, looked down into yours as he leaned in to crush his lips against yours.

His tongue slid masterfully against yours, drinking in your breathless gasps as his cock slammed back into you, hitting that deep, electric spot that made your toes curl and your mind haze over with pure pleasure.

"Nnn... ah..." Scaramouche let out a low, vibrating groan against your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted positions, pulling one of your legs up over his shoulder to drive his throbbing cock even deeper inside you.

As the friction built and your heart hammered wildly against your ribs, a lingering curiosity finally pushed through the haze of your arousal. Your trembling hand pressed against his bare, slick chest, your breathless, stammering hesitation making it clear you were trying to ask if this relentless pace—two or three intense sessions every single day—was truly normal just to keep a High Mage's mana stable.

Scaramouche paused his rhythm for a split second, hovering over you. His dark-lined hood lay discarded on the floor, leaving his bare, pale shoulders exposed under the soft, ambient glow of floating magic.

Instead of answering right away, a dark, wicked smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips. His violet eyes glinted with pure, arrogant amusement as he leaned down, brushing his warm, sweat-slicked lips against your earlobe before sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin there.

"Foolish little thing..." Scaramouche purred, his voice a low, raspy rumble that vibrated straight through your chest as his hips gave a slow, deliberate, incredibly deep thrust that made you gasp out loud.

He pulled back just enough to lock his glowing eyes onto yours, his smirk widening into a filthy, triumphant grin.

"Did you really believe that nonsense?" he whispered mockingly, his thumb stroking the flushed skin of your hip. "A single five-minute session transfers enough mana to keep my barriers up for an entire week."

He let out a soft, breathless chuckle at your dazed expression, his hands sliding up your ribs to frame your face, pinning you down as he began to pick up his rhythm again—harder, faster, and utterly relentless.

Squelch. Thrust.

"I don't need your mana right now, sweetheart," Scaramouche hissed huskily against your lips, slamming into you until the headboard rattled against the stone wall. "I just want you. Every single day. And by the way you're taking me right now... you wanted it just as badly. Didn't you?"