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Scaramouche didn’t know what his creator was thinking when she made him. Which to be fair was a broad statement. He had many questions and annoyances towards her and her actions, but one thing that had been on his mind as of late was why he looked the way that he did.
He knew the other puppet she created ended up being an exact replica of Ei, yet Scaramouche very obviously was….not. She had made him smaller, shorter (much to his dismay) and with a few questionable choices as to his…..other body parts.
For as long as he remembered he had had female parts and small breasts, much unlike Ei’s as well. His hair had started off long like hers, in a very similar color. Yet as long as he remembered as well, Scaramouche knew for certain he was a boy.
Ever since joining the Fatui, he had managed to keep the identity of his body hidden from everyone except one person. Dottore. That bastard had seen him naked more times than he could count due to the nature of the experiments he often conducted on him. He wasn’t entirely sure all the experiments he did were even related to unsealing him powers, but every time he attempted to question him, he would get cut off with a curt, “Do it yourself then, if you’re so sure of the process.”
Scaramouche would scowl, but he would usually shut up after that. As much as he hated it he needed Dottore to unseal his powers. Short of crawling back to Ei, he didn’t know anyone else who had the technical skill to be able to work on a Khaenri’an puppet like him.
But Archons, did he have to be so insufferable to deal with?
Today was another such day where Scaramouche sat in Dottore’s lab on top of a metal exam table. Dottore was meandering around getting ready for the next experiment muttering something about whether or not puppets could get sepsis and whether he really need sterile gloves today or not. Scaramouche didn’t really know what he was talking about so he tuned him out and looked around.
The lab was smaller than he would have imagined for Dottore’s rank in the Harbingers. Scaramouche had recently ascended to the 11th seat, which he was still surprised at since Dottore still hadn’t finished unlocking his full powers. Scaramouche curled his hand together, making little sparks of purple electro flit through his fingers, which was about the full extent of his powers.
Dottore looked over and scowled. He did that a lot when Scaramouche was around. He then said, “Don’t burn anything brat.”
He then smirked, showing his pointed teeth, “You should save your energy for the experiment. We have a lot planned for today.”
Scaramouche sighed and stopped what he was doing. “Whatever. At this rate I’ll die of boredom before we start.”
Not that old age was something he ever had to worry about due to his creator being the god of eternity. Whether he liked it or not, he was forever trapped in the body of a young man, perpetually baby faced.
Dottore’s smile slowly faded as he looked at Scaramouche, “You’re lucky your insides are so fascinating because your personality certainly doesn’t make up for anything.”
Scaramouche flopped back onto the table, noting the coldness of it. “Would it kill you to add a blanket or some padding to your worktables?”
Dottore looked at him with a strange expression and retorted, “Why? It’s not like you can get cold anyways. “
“As I unwillingly know from your last experiment I can’t die from the cold, but you know I still can feel it….. Right?”
Dottore looked mildly surprised and then just shrugged, “I don’t really keep track of your feelings, puppet. Just how your body responds to things.”
Scaramouche fell silent, feeling like he was arguing with a brick wall. Dottore had no care for anything or anyone aside from his experiments and his new “segments” he was working on. They were supposedly based off his machinery, which made Scaramouche slightly queasy. He didn’t like the idea of his body being used as the model to bring even more Dottore’s into the world.
He looked over at a table full of different medical and alchemical supplies and wondered what they would be doing today. Not that Scaramouche usually had much say in it, but he still liked to know what the doctor was doing to him. Especially during the experiments where he made him take off all his clothes. It was hard to describe the feeling he got when he was naked in front of another with the wrong parts. He felt a sense of wrongness (that wasn’t just due to Dottore being there) that made his skin crawl.
He had pondered the idea of asking Dottore to, for lack of a better word, upgrade him for some time now. He just wasn’t sure how to ask in a way that the other man wouldn’t just flat out refuse. He needed some sort of leverage over him, since this was essentially Scaramouche trying to ask for a favor, on top of the “favor” that was Dottore unsealing his powers.
Dottore took that moment to walk over. Somehow the man had a very expressionate face despite the large mask that covered his eyes. Scaramouche took delight in trying to rile him up whenever he could, just to see his metaphorical mask slip. This time, he somehow looked annoyed, despite his only context clues being the slight frown on his face and the continued muttering.
“I’d ask if you were ready, but I really don’t care what the answer is, so just lay down.” He said as he walked over, holding a syringe filled with some sort of purple fluid. Dottore had been delighted when he learned Scaramouche had a working circulatory system, including both veins and arteries. Somehow they functioned despite the lack of a central heart, much to Dottore’s fascination and Scaramouche’s dismay.
Scaramouche frowned, but he still did what the taller man asked him to do, and laid down on the cold table and held his arm out. Recently he had earned the “privilege” of doing experiments without restraints due to his continued good behavior. Scaramouche honestly hated the feeling of being restrained more than his need to fight back against Dottore, so he usually tried to stay still and let the other man do what he wanted. At first though, he was, according to Dottore, “so goddamn squirmy” that he had to tie his arms to the table.
Dottore grabbed Scaramouche’s arm with a rough gloved hand and after palpating his arm for a second, found a vein and injected the purple substance. It was cold flowing in but didn’t hurt like some of the things he gave him.
Not long after, he started to feel a tingling throughout his body, focusing on his fingertips. He felt almost staticky, for lack of a better word, as the feeling got stronger, as if he would shock anything he touched right now. He looked over at Dottore for a hint as what was happening but the other man was just sitting down now, writing in that book of his like he always did during these tests.
If Scaramouche had to guess, Dottore had given him something to stimulate his powers, judging by the electro feel to it so far. He continued to sit there, feeling the static build up inside him more as time went on. It started to get mildly painful after a short time. He felt like things were crawling under his skin at this point as the electro energy continued to work its way around his body with no way out. He started to squirm slightly at the feeling intensified, and Dottore looked over at him and asked his to report his physical symptoms. Scaramouche told him and Dottore just hummed and continued to write.
Scaramouche rolled his eyes and asked, “So is this all that’s supposed to happen?”
Dottore shook his head and said, “Telling you would invalidate the experiment. Continue reporting any new physical symptoms as they occur.”
He sat there for a few more minutes, uncomfortable, but not overtly in pain yet when he started to notice the marks on his hands and chest glowing purple. Once this occurred, he started to feel a burning pain in the center of his chest, as if his body was rejecting the electro energy. He gritted his teeth, refusing to make any sounds of pain for the other man, but the burning was getting worse over time. He started to breathe heavily, all while Dottore continued to analyze him. He hated this feeling of being studied. As much as he loathed the other man right now, even his voice would be a welcome respite from how he was feeling. The man had the ability to chatter incessantly when it wasn’t wanted but be annoying quiet one of the few times he wanted him to talk.
He continued to try to focus on breathing as the pain got worse and he noticed small sparks start to come out of him. Dottore looked mildly concerned at this development and asked, “Are you doing that on purpose?” Scaramouche shook his head no and went back to gritting his teeth. Despite being the one to produce the sparks, he still felt as if he was being shocked, the irony of this not lost of him. As the electro archons puppet, surely, he should have electro resistance, but as of yet, he did not. So he continued to sit there and bear the pain, hoping whatever he was injected with would run its course shortly.
Small sparks continued to fly around him and the marks continued to glow, but it seemed to have reached a threshold and did not continue to get any stronger. After what felt like ages but what likely only minutes, the feelings of electrocution began to fade to a low thrumming feeling and eventually faded away.
Dottore continued to monitor him, occasionally readjusting his mask while writing. He hummed little things to himself occasionally as he worked, unintelligible to Scaramouche.
The marks and the sparks faded soon after the pain, and Scaramouche was left there exhausted. He was sweating slightly and still breathing hard from the pain. Despite not having moved throughout the test he was out of energy and tired. Dottore however looked satisfied, but also was chewing on the end of his pen again, which usually meant something didn’t go according to plan.
The blue haired man turned to him and asked him to try summoning electro. Scaramouche sat up first and then held his hand out and thought about the feeling of electro that he had just felt flowing through him, and he was surprised when a few purple sparks emitted from his hand.
It still wasn’t anything close to what he knew he was capable of, but it was more than the last time he had tried.
Dottore looked less than thrilled at his attempt however and wrote something down in his notebook. He started muttering again about finding stronger whopperflower extract for the next experiment and Scaramouche took this moment to close and his and rest for a second.
---
A few minutes later, Scaramouche sat there exhausted while Dottore had started wandering around him. It was due to this exhaustion that Scaramouche had the courage to speak up, almost feeling like a dog that deserved a reward after this particularly difficult test.
“Hey….Dottore.”
Dottore looked over and mumbled out a, “What?”
“Can you make me look like a boy?” Scaramouche muttered out, loud enough to hear, but still slightly embarrassed.
Dottore stopped what he was doing for a second and looked over at Scaramouche curiously.
“I honestly was wondering how long it would take for you to ask, brat.”
Scaramouche was surprised to hear this, but this also wasn’t an answer. He decided to hold back on his usual snarky responses during this conversation, so he said nothing and waited for the blue haired man to continue.
“I have one condition for you. This would be a lot of work and research and I’m not exactly flowing with free time or generosity.”
Scaramouche was honestly scared what the other man could want from him, since he usually just did whatever he wanted anyways. What could he want that was different than the usual experiments he ran on him?
“….What do you want?” he asked cautiously.
“You mentioned before that I was….lacking in recording your feelings during experiments. As a scientist, I find this to be lacking. I…want to see if you are capable of feeling pleasure before I do any permanent surgery on you, since I cannot guarantee you will have full sensations afterwards. I certainly need to consult some more textbooks, but this surgery, which I’m assuming you want both top and bottom surgery,” he looked at Scaramouche who nodded hesitantly, “ in which case I would have to put in a lot of effort to learn and practice these techniques before working on you. You might have a detestable personality, but your body is a work of art and I want it to remain so after I work on you. Besides on my pride as a scientist, I want to take this opportunity to study the mismatch of gender identity between how you were created and how you feel. It’s not everyday you see that mismatch let alone in created humans,” he finished with a slight chuckle.
Scaramouche’s mind was circling. What did he mean “see if he could feel pleasure”? Also he felt a slight twinge of pity for the idea of how Dottore would gain experience with this procedure, thinking of all the human subjects he saw carted out of here, often not alive. He could only imagine what he would be doing to them. But still…. Pleasure? Could he really feel pleasure and not just pain?
This isn’t to say that Scaramouche had never tried touching himself. He’d been alive for 200 years by this point and he certainly knew how the idea of human pleasure worked. He tried to rub himself how he’d read about in books, trying to work himself open with a finger even, but he never seemed to reach that mythical peak humans seemed to crave. He’d witnessed many humans do dumb things over the years for the promise of getting their dick wet, so he knew there had to be more to it than what he was doing. He wondered if it had to do with the mismatch of how he felt and how he looked. Sometimes looking down at himself he was surprised to not see a dick sitting there, but rather just a smooth slightly haired mound leading to his…he really wasn’t sure what to call it since he tried not to think of it often. The word vulva felt too technical and like something Dottore would say. Pussy felt too vulgar and too much like what the prostitutes in Snezhnaya would call out, advertising for others. Regardless, he felt uncomfortable spending long amounts of time looking at himself or touching himself, not that he hadn’t tried anyways. He was grateful his breasts were nowhere near the size of Ei’s since it made them easier to hide. They still made him uncomfortable to acknowledge, but at least when he wore all the layers he was supposed to for the cold, others could never tell what was underneath.
He also had never had sex with anyone if that wasn’t obvious by this point. Not to say that he hadn’t been offered, but usually once he opened his mouth, that offer quickly fell off the table. After all, he had been designed by a god to be beautiful and ageless, with soft skin and hair, and a dainty frame that older men in particular seemed to enjoy staring at. The staring usually ended once Scaramouche threatened to cut their dicks off though. Unfortunately he’d only had one man push the issue and have the chance to actually follow through on his threat. He smiled remembering that smelly man who had tried to touch his without his permission and the screams that sounded the entire time Scaramouche walked away.
Scaramouche looked back at Dottore and asked, “What exactly do you want to do to me?”
Dottore sighed and repeated, “I want to experiment with your body to see if you are capable of achieving orgasm or whether you even have the capability for pleasure in your puppet body. It’s already curious enough you were created with fully formed sexual organs, so it’s entirely possible your creator added in the ability to feel pleasure from them as well. Although after some poking around a few weeks ago, I did determine you only have external genitalia and are missing an internal reproductive track. In simple words, you can never have children, although I suspect this fact won’t exactly break your heart.”
Scaramouche was mildly amused by this revelation, but more annoyed Dottore had failed to mention it before.
He sighed and continued, “Okay yes yes I’m a fascinating experiment and you want to test my ability to feel pleasure, but what are you exactly going to do to me? Don’t I need to know what’s going to happen before I can consent?”
Dottore chuckled at that. “This is the first time you’ve shown this much interest in informed consent. Did someone have a bad experience?” He finished with a teasing tone.
Scaramouche scoffed and said, “No, asshole. But experimenting with my powers and…touching me are two very different things. The former I can usually just tune out or bear, but the latter sounds like it requires me to consent to what you’re doing and be present for. I just want to make sure I know what I’m agreeing to, Doctor.” He finished saying with a sneer.
He could almost see Dottore narrowing his eyes at him, and he still had a bemused smile on his face as he spoke. He leaned in closer to Scaramouche, planting his hands on either side of his legs, mouth right near his ear, and spoke, “I am going to undress you and then touch you in various ways until you orgasm. Is this acceptable, Balladeer?” His voice was low and rumbly and a flutter of nervousness washed over him. The way he said Balladeer was almost mocking and slow, but he tried not to think about his new title right now. Nor was he going to think about how close Dottore was to him.
Nope, not today.
Scaramouche looked around at where Dottore’s eyes should be under his mask, trying to read his expression but struggling. The other man had backed up slightly, but his hands were still on either side of his legs as Scaramouche still sat on the exam table, legs hanging off the side. The blue haired man seemed serious. He wondered what he was really getting out of this experiment, if not some sort of sexual gratification. Although he didn’t mention being an active participant he wondered if Dottore was planning to fuck him or just touch him. He also wondered if Dottore had ever thought about this before, had ever lusted after Scaramouche or if it truly was all an experiment to him. He certainly didn’t harbor many positive thoughts towards the taller man, but admittedly he was the harbinger he spent most of his time with. That is to say, he was slightly more tolerable than some of the others. At least Dottore never dressed up his words or was particularly manipulative. He was sometimes laughably easy to read, which Scaramouche often tried to take advantage of much to the other man’s chagrin.
Scaramouche looked to the side and wanted to clarify, “So, ah, are you going to… you know. In me? Or just touch me?” he made a crude thrusting gesture as he tried not to sound like the inexperienced virgin he really was.
Dottore scoffed and said, “No, I’m not going to penetrate you if that’s what you mean. That would add too many personal variables for the experiment to be successful. I’ll just stimulate you with my fingers if that’s permissible, “ he concluded almost mockingly again.
Scaramouche was caught between wanting to leave, wanting to strangle the man in front of him, and being slightly curious. He hated that Dottore somehow always had all the power in their relationship, even if he was giving Scaramouche the illusion of choice. Scaramouche knew he could walk away right now and Dottore would let him. But he also wouldn’t do the surgeries for him as well.
He also loathed the fact that his first encounter with another human must be Dottore of all people. If he even was a person. Dottore hadn’t seemed to age in all the time he knew him, and considering his number 2 rank, he likely wasn’t entirely human, much like Pierro and Columbina. He had also never seen the man’s face, which added to the mystery. He was the only harbinger who truly never took his mask off. He had even seen Columbina take off her white mask once when she was trying to woo a princess at one of their many diplomatic parties. He wondered if the other man had some hideous deformity or non human feature that made him cover his face all of the time. He also wondered if the man even had normal sexual desires or if this really was just for science like he said. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if Dottore really did look at him in that way because the feeling certainly wasn’t mutual. But. Scaramouche was curious. He was curious to see if being touched could feel pleasurable. Almost everything that occurred in this lab brought him pain, including today, so the idea of getting to feel something pleasant was nice. Pleasant touch wasn’t exactly common for the Balladeer. There was no room for kindness when trying to fight your way up the ranks of the Fatui, especially the closer you got to the top. Some of the other Harbingers appeared to have a closer than professional relationship, but that energy never made its way to Scaramouche.
Which to be fair is how he liked it. He wasn’t here to make friends or lovers. He was here to get power and reclaim his gnosis. Everyone here was just a pawn to that end anyways. What did he care if none of them ever seemed to want to spend more than a moment alone with him, or that they seemed almost offended when he was appointed to the rank of 11th harbinger. He was vitriolic and cruel to those beneath him on purpose to ensure that no one could get close to him or would even want to try. And so far this had been successful.
His head was still spinning thinking about Dottore’s proposal even though both of them already knew the answer, the other man still gave him the façade that he could walk away right now.
Scaramouche kicked his legs out, almost intentionally hitting the other man, noticing just how close Dottore was to him still, and muttered, “Fine. Do what you want. I don’t think it’ll work anyways, it never has before.”
“Oh?” Dottore mused, “So you have touched yourself at least in the past?”
Scaramouche scoffed, “Obviously. I may not be human, but I have hands. But it just never led anywhere or finished or anything like that, so I got bored of it. Not like I have any need for human functions like that to begin with.” He tried to finish with a sneer, but they both knew how inexperienced this made him. Although looking at Dottore he wasn’t so sure the other man was particularly promiscuous either. He had never seen him spend the night with anyone, man or woman, which made him wonder how he even knew how to pleasure someone.
Dottore just shrugged and said, “Well I’m amendable to starting whenever you are. You can undress yourself or I can help you.”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes and quipped, “How romantic.”
Dottore’s mouth flashed into a frown, but resumed its usual cocky smile, “Darling, remember why you’re doing this again if you feel the need to be rude.”
Scaramouche kept his mouth shut, even though he frowned at the pet name. He gestured down at the black bodysuit he was wearing as permission for Dottore to take it off.
Dottore still had his usual black gloves on and he reached his hand out to touch Scaramouche’s leg. He jumped a bit at the contact, but forced himself to stay still. Just like when he was in pain, the prideful part of him refused to show any reactions at all possible. He also wasn’t used to a gentle touch from the other man like this one was.
Dottore continued to run his hand up and down his leg, as if testing the waters. He slowly reached around to behind his back and started to undo the zipper on the back part for the top piece. He unzipped it down to the level of his waist slowly and deliberately, while glancing at Scaramouche’s face for feedback.
“It would be most helpful for the experiment if you told me how you were feeling throughout this process,” he said with a smirk in his voice, knowing the shorter man would refuse, but wanting to see his reaction anyway.
“Maybe if you did something worth reacting to, then you might get a reaction out of me,” he retorted.
Dottore hummed in response and began to pull Scaramouche’s bodysuit off of his front until it hung down by his waist. His nipples perked up in response to the cold and he shivered ever so slightly as Dottore’s gaze lingered on them.
Dottore raised his hand to flick over one of the pink buds, noticing the sharp intake of breath from Scaramouche as he did so. He started to roll his nipple between his fingers lazily, watching for any reactions. Scaramouche was tamping down any reactions because he refused to let the other know that it actually felt….good. He was surprised. It certainly didn’t feel like this when he had touched his chest himself, so he was confused why Dottore’s rough gloved hands felt good stroking and rolling his nipple around in his fingers.
He switched to the other one, both still perked from the cold and the stimulation. He gave the one a gentle tug to see what kind of response he would get. Scaramouche made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he tried to repress a squeak. Dottore switched to the other side and pulled on the other one a little more roughly noticing how Scaramouche seemed to enjoy it, judging by his increased respiratory rate.
He switched to palming his entire breast in one hand and giving firm squeezes to each side. Scaramouche looked mildly bored by this switch though, so he leaned in and gave a small lick to his nipple. Scaramouche jumped a bit at that and then schooled his face back to one of impassivity. Dottore continued to lick and suck at his chest, noticing how the smaller man started to squirm ever so slightly beneath him, still refusing to make a sound.
With his nipple still in his mouth, Dottore reach his hand down to Scaramouche’s legs and parted them slightly, noticing the lack of resistance. He reached his hand down between his legs and rubbed the palm of his hand in the middle and noticed with some satisfaction that it was slightly wet. He rubbed his palm in a small circle putting pressure where he thought the shorter man would be most sensitive, going off feel. Scaramouche jumped at this movement, meaning he was in the right place. Scaramouche was breathing heavier now, but still refusing to make any noises.
He removed his hand and pulled his face back to look at the other man. His cheeks were rosy and his nipples were now slightly swollen from the sucking, but he still looked displeased. In other words his usual face. Dottore frowned as he reached down to remove the rest of Scaramouches bodysuit.
Scaramouche wasn’t sure how to feel about what had happened so far. He felt like Dottore was playing with him, teasing him to try to get a reaction out of him, which didn’t feel very scientific. He was still surprised by the fact that was he was doing felt good. He was also beginning to feel a pulsing between his legs as he started to get wet. His mind also started to get foggy as he anticipated what Dottore was going to do next. He shifted his weight to allow him to remove his body suit from over his legs, and like that he was suddenly naked in front of Dottore. Yet this felt very different than any of the other times he had been exposed in front of the other man. This time felt even more vulnerable.
He looked anywhere but at Dottore, not sure what his next move was going to be.
“Getting shy now are we?” Dottore teased, as he took his gloves off one by one. He set them to the side and he noticed how rough his hands were. Something about the action felt oddly intimate. It wasn’t like he was taking his mask off, but he was exposing a new part of himself to Scaramouche that he had never seen before.
Scaramouche didn’t have a good reply so he just stayed silent this time.
Dottore decided to open his mouth again to say, “So your breasts appear to be fully functional and able to receive appropriate pleasure. I will aim to do a surgical procedure that offers the best chance at keeping full sensation for your future benefit. Next I will see how sensitive your vulva and clitoris are.”
Scaramouche groaned at how ridiculously unsexy his comments were. He simply couldn’t fathom how this man had ever seduced anyone or anything in his lifetime if this was how he acted.
“Archons, do you ever shut up?” he retorted glaring at him.
Dottore chuckled softly and reached down between his legs to tickle the inside of his thighs as he traced his fingers on both of his inner thighs. He also took this time to push Scaramouche’s legs open more, so that he was even more exposed to him, causing a slight flush on his cheeks. He added more pressure and started to gently knead his thighs, scratching them lightly as he pulled back each time. Scaramouche shivered slightly at the sensation, which was both nice and slightly ticklish.
Dottore then took one of his hands and started to inch closer to his core, gently moving his fingers around, noticing the wetness present. Scaramouche closed his eyes as his fingers danced around where he actually wanted them to be, seeming to almost deliberately miss it every time.
He waited as his fingers started to move in an aching slow circling motion around his clit, enough to feel good, but too slow to get him anywhere. He let his head fall back backwards as he took in the sensations. He enjoyed the slow lazy feeling to the pleasure he was feeling, trying to ignore that the hand pleasuring him was in fact Dottore’s. This was about as far as he had ever gotten alone, so he wasn’t prepared for when Dottore’s other hand started to swirl around his entrance, getting his finger slick on himself before sliding a finger in. Scaramouche jolted a bit at the depth of his finger since the taller man’s fingers were much longer than his and slid nearly all the way inside him.
Dottore pumped his finger in and out slowly and then angled his finger up until he felt a soft spongy spot that he pressed his finger into as he did so. At the same time he was continuing the slow circles above with his other hand. With some satisfaction he noticed the hitch in Scaramouche’s breathing as it become more irregular.
Scaramouche closed his eyes tighter at the good feeling, still trying to repress any sounds.
Scaramouche unconsciously tried to grind into Dottore’s hand to get more friction, but stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing.
He couldn’t believe that bastard’s fingers actually felt good. The roughness of his fingers added to the pleasure he felt as his fingers danced around his clit. He tried to control his breathing but then the hand that was teasing his clit sped up and added more pressure, which made Scaramouche jerk back a little before leaning into it, surprised at the sudden increase in intensity. He was fighting back the urge to make little whimpers, refusing to let Dottore know he was playing him like a fiddle.
Dottore added another finger to his entrance and increased the in and out movements, occasionally curling his fingers upwards into a spot that made him accidentally release a little whimper, still not stopping with his other hand. Scaramouche’s hands clenched beside him, unconsciously looking for something to grab onto to.
Scaramouche started to feel a pressure building in his core which made his head feel ever foggier. His breathing now was getting erratic and he moved one of his hands over his mouth to stifle the sounds that were coming out against his will. His eyes were also watering the closer he started to get to the top of the peak as the feeling continued to build. He felt himself grow even wetter and the lewd sounds of Dottore’s finger pumping in and out of him seemed to echo throughout the laboratory.
Scaramouche refused to look anywhere near Dottore at this point, who was staring intensely at Scaramouche’s face, noting his every reaction. He was enjoying watching the callous Balladeer come undone on his fingers, despite how hard the shorter man was fighting his reactions.
Scaramouche just knew his whole face must have been pink at this point and he could feel Dottore’s gaze on him. He felt himself get closer to the peak for a second and then came back down, which caused him to let out a longer whine.
Against his rational judgement, he muttered, “I’m…ah….i’m getting close.” This came out breathily, in between pants as Dottore continued his ruthless dual action movements.
Once again Scaramouche felt himself getting closer to something, but this time the feel kept getting stronger and stronger. Right when he felt like he was about to fall off the edge he ground down against Dottore’s hand to get the last bit of friction he needed to come undone. He was awash with a wave of pleasure that peaked as Dottore continued moving. His entrance started spasming around his fingers, letting the other man know he had finished. Within seconds though the stimulation started to become too much and he started to back away, whimpering, “too much, it’s too much.”
Dottore withdrew his fingers then and simply watched as Scaramouche basked in the glow of his orgasm. He had closed his eyes now and laid back on the table and was enjoying the afterglow feeling as well as suddenly getting very tired. His entrance continued to twitch as he sat there naked still.
Very shortly after, he started to realize where he was again, and became self conscious. He looked over at Dottore who had a contemplative look on his face but as soon as he realized he was being watched grinned at Scaramouche.
Dottore walked over to wipe his hands off on a nearby towel before saying, “I trust that was satisfactory on your end?”
Scaramouche looked down at Dottore’s pants and noticed that the front of them were tighter than usual.
I guess the bastard actually did get some sort of enjoyment out of this, he thought. Dottore made no move to remove his pants or do anything else to take care of his erection, just like he had said he would, which impressed Scaramouche.
Scaramouche hummed before answering, “Yeah, that wasn’t the worst thing you’ve ever made me feel.”
Dottore scoffed, seemingly insulted. “Would it really kill you to admit that that felt good?”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes, still in a good mood, teased “It just might.”
“Fine, it felt nice okay? You have magic hands or something blah blah blah, I know you could care less how I rate your technique, Dottore.” He said pointedly, knowing the other man wasn’t the type to fish for compliments.
“You got what you wanted. All my parts are in working order for some strange reason.” He waved his hand around. “Now it’s your turn to fix me.”
Dottore sighed at this, “Patience dear Balladeer. Like I said it’ll take me some time to research how to properly do this, but I am a man of my word. I do want to applaud you for your cooperation on both of our experiments today.”
Scaramouche still wondered if in his mind these two experiments were like the same thing to him. If Scaramouche was merely a thing to be studied rather than a living breathing creature. He supposed it didn’t really matter either way how Dottore thought of him, as long as they remained useful to each other.
Dottore walked over to his notebook, sat down and started writing at this moment, sending a not-so-subtle message to Scaramouche that he was done with him for now.
Scaramouche still didn’t know what to make of today. He really didn’t want to think about Dottore in a positive manner, nor did he want something like this to happen again. But as he lay there in his post-orgasm glow, he felt a slight fondness for the blue haired man that had not been there before. Scaramouche sighed and decided to file this feeling into the archive of things to figure out later, which unfortunately encompassed most of his feelings. It was how he coped with all the things he had to see and do everyday in the Fatui, and he wasn’t about to get in touch with his feelings, just because Dottore had given him one mediocre orgasm.
He wondered if Dottore would ever propose more experiments like this one in the future, and Scaramouche shook his head before he could even consider a future where he would accept. He sighed again and started to reclothe himself, taking small glances at the other man, who seemingly was paying him no mind anymore. This utter lack of attention only reinforced the idea that Scaramouche was merely something to be studied to him, and Scaramouche tried to ignore the slight pang of sadness that gave him as he returned to his rooms.
A few weeks later Dottore asked Scaramouche to come to his laboratory after a particularly boring meeting. When he arrived the other man was positively gleeful.
Scaramouche frowned. “Do I even want to know what you’re happy about, creep? “
Dottore hummed and answered, “You know I’m gonna let that one slide today. Not even you could ruin my good mood. Although you are technically the reason for it as well.”
Scaramouche responded, “Okay out with it. Why am I here?”
Dottore’s grin got wider as he opened his arms dramatically, “It’s your surgery day! I’ve finally got everything in line for your surgeries. And although it’s debatable if you need it, I did manage to find some anesthetics so you’re less squirmy for the procedure.”
Scaramouche took a sharp breath in. He knew they had made that deal weeks ago, but he honestly was expecting the other man to find some excuse why he couldn’t or wouldn’t do it. Or to just indefinitely delay it. He felt a brief moment of panic before taking a deep breath and saying a little too quickly, “Yes, yes, I’m ready.”
He coughed and repeated slower, “I’m surprised you kept your promise. I’m ready whenever you are. “
That sounded slightly less eager, he thought.
Dottore walked closer to him, once again invading his personal space. Scaramouche ignored the way his metaphorical heart skipped a beat at the proximity. He leaned down to his face and grinned, all of his sharp teeth on display. “Let’s get started then, shall we puppet?”
Scaramouche took a deep breath and looked at the other man before nodding. He was ready.
Scaramouche woke up feeling groggy. He had never actually been anesthetized before and he wasn’t fond of how weak he felt. Dottore had warned him that he healed differently than humans, so it was possible he might already be healed by the time he woke up. Scaramouche didn’t feel much pain upon awakening so he wondered if his body had already healed itself together. He started to pat his chest down and immediately noticed the flatness. He quickly reached down between his legs and was shocked when something soft stopped him before his hand could fit between his legs.
Scaramouche couldn’t believe it. His body finally looked like that of the man he was. In his mind he had always had a fully male form, and the disconnect he had every time he looked in the mirror unnerved him. Part of him also enjoyed that he no longer looked how Ei had initially created him.
Scaramouche slowly looked over at Dottore who was sitting on a chair near him, once again, writing something in his notebook. He hasn’t seemed to notice the smaller man was awake yet and kept furiously writing something down.
Scaramouche still wasn’t sure how to reconcile the gratitude he felt with the object of it being Dottore. Even though it had been a fair trade for Dottore, Scaramouche still felt like he got the larger end of the bargain. He didn’t want to ever have to owe the man anything, knowing how dangerous unclaimed favors were among the Harbingers. He tried not to consider the unlocking of his powers as a favor since it was a direct order from the Tsaritsa, but he also felt a slight amount of gratitude towards the other man for it as well.
He turned his head to look away from Dottore, not wanting him to notice that he was awake yet or read the expressions on his face. He sighed softly and fell back asleep, still groggy from the medicine.
--
Scaramouche didn’t know what his creator was thinking of when she made him.
He knew that her new puppet was a clone of her, of Ei. He also knew that he looked nothing like either of them. He wondered if Ei had known her first puppet was a boy, and the torment he would feel his whole life from how she decided to mold him.
He knew he had been discarded for his emotions. That when he cried in his sleep, she had decided to try again to make a stronger puppet, but was to weak to destroy him, leading to his abandonment. He wondered what she would think of him if she saw him now. Would she recognize Scaramouche as her puppet? Would she recognize him after he had altered his appearance so much? Would his soul feel the same to her or had it been marred irreversibly by his time in the Fatui?
Scaramouche thought this idly. He knew if he ever met her again it would be to steal her gnosis, not catch up. He wouldn’t have time to ask her all the questions that burned in his mind about why he was created how he was, why he was discarded, why he felt the way he did. He would likely never know the answer to these questions, he mused. He hated the similarity he felt to humans for a moment. Their lives often had no greater purpose, but as least Scaramouche knew what his purpose was in obtaining the gnosis.
He supposed that taking his own fate in his hands was the best he could do for now.
And so Scaramouche lay there thinking, as he sat in his newly recreated form, and felt content in his skin for the first time since his creation, dreaming of the day he would have his gnosis and finally be whole, and smiled.