First, the graze of fangs, a scratch from the shadows forewarning what they had agreed upon. Vision muddled by the darkness, he relied upon the fleeting touches to better track the indistinct figure within the dark room; brief contact that never truly sated, transient fingers testing his frame in inquiring brushes, urging labored traits into the breaths he took. Anticipation burned beneath his skin, prompting his fingers to fuss over undoing another button on his doublet despite the clothing already being drawn open to nearly his navel. For the spread of flesh readily on display, the devil remained steadfast despite enticement, content to savor a figure posed and prostrated before him.
Second, the press of lips against his throat to soothe the meager sting of protest left by the fangs’ caress. Seeking out the throb of his heart along the column of his neck, the fiend seized upon his pulse in practiced mastery. If the touch of soft mouth against him, nearly a chaste kiss if he wished to indulge the perversion, was more than enough then the slow, wet path carved by the other’s tongue was his undoing. A shallow gasp expressed far more than any of his words possibly could in that instant, including his gratitude for the chair that the other had so kindly deposited him in previously. This blessedly steadfast structure, a source of balance to cling to as knuckles turned white in their grip against the arms of the chair. He could have done without the preamble, a truth he readily voiced.
“Get on with it,” he rasped, uncaring to the pleading twinge that seeped in between needy breaths.
No answer was voiced and rather the curl of fingers gripping the parted collar of his doublet to pull it further open acted as acknowledgement, then a slip and unintentional display of strength resulting in the subtle rip of fabric as the fiend tugged it down from his shoulder. A momentary pause before an unneeded apology was issued in the slide of a rough palm over the skin newly exposed in the effort. He didn’t care, he couldn’t. He craned his neck just slightly, a shameless invite for the other to indulge as he found the peer of golden eyes watching him. He held his breath, waiting in restless excitement.
Third and finally , the part of lips to forsake the kiss, signalling the return of the fangs and their gradual sink against his neck. His initial alarm by the sting of teeth finding purchase in his flesh faded in the hoarse breaths he managed, blurring into a delightful burn as the other partook of him. To do so little and still coax free a broken sound from low in his throat, he closed his eyes.
“ Fuck, Myste, ” he groaned, reaching blindly into the dark to search and soon found reward in grasping the front of the other’s gambeson. Met with failure in his attempt to pull the other closer, he had not the good sense to be embarrassed by the whine he made in disappointment. Fray was immoveable. He settled for twisting his fingers into the fabric, bunching the front up in his fist as he submitted to the burn and bliss alike that coursed through him.
Slipping further and further into the daze, welcoming the simmering delight that only crept higher as the other drank deeply, slaking his thirst upon the squirming volunteer. Pain long-since replaced by an ache cutting deep into his bones, he clung to the fabric for some vain hope to steady himself when the chair no longer seemed to compare.
Content, the other withdrew, first fangs and finally lips. He simultaneously felt as though a lifetime had passed just as much as that the exchange had been over far too fast. Open air upon meager punctures re-awoken the sting, leaving him to shudder as he melted into the chair. Belatedly, he noticed the absence and yet found the annoyance resolved before he could protest. Mouth pressed once more to skin, lower now along his collar; another preamble before the tongue ran slowly across his skin to lap away the blood that slipped during the other’s lapse of attendance. The gesture rattled a low groan from his throat, further igniting the throbbing ache that tormented him. He certainly preferred the tongue over the damp cloth that replaced it, dabbing gently at his neck to clean away the stains.
Boneless, delirious, and yet craving more still, he recognized and mourned the loss of his hold in a pathetic whine. Reaching blindly into the dark, seeking once more and being met with failure. Fray was somewhere beyond his reach. He knew better than to beg further of a devil yet the temptation played on his tongue regardless. He spoke into the shadows.
Brazen, unashamed, a largely inarticulate inquiry panted and one most certainly inspired by the heat that coiled in his gut. Doubt could not plague him in the pause that followed, a silence interrupted only by his breathing. He found golden eyes crinkling in the dark.
"Is that what you wish?"
“It’s what I want,” he slurred, soaring off adrenaline.
“Then how very polite of you to request,” Fray murmured, a contemplative tone as his golden gaze shifted. The ghost of fingertips brushed his jaw, tipping his chin up in gentle guidance to the scrutiny of his watch. He knew not what the other searched for and yet an aching part of him hoped Fray found it. The memory of his touch left a longing in its wake, a subtle sear he delighted in.
Lightheaded and giddy from both the rush and loss of blood, he felt unstoppable, almost maddened by the burn beneath his skin. Assuring his consent in wanton pleas masked by impulsive bravado, the allowance granted in a hum twinged by entertainment prompted him to grin recklessly against the dark. He lost sight of the warm gleam of the other’s eyes, squirming in a fit of impatience. Fray deigned to humor him, voice distant as something somewhere rustled in the gloom.
"Undress then. Prove you've the sense for that much."
He did not need to be given the instruction twice, readily wriggling from his trousers in a graceless act in the dark. Self-inflicted urgency had him fumbling; fingers clumsy then deft, working to untie the strings that laced his pants snug about his waist. Already more than hard enough, a trait plainly outlined and defined by his trousers. Already more than sensitive enough, a fact he realized in the hiss he uttered over the coarse rub of fabric against his cock as he pulled the clothing down. A bit of relief earned in the freedom, erection heavy against his stomach as he wriggled out of the slacks.
Deeming the task complete; efficiently accomplished by his reasoning and therefore proven, he grinned into the abyss and found no immediate reply. He waited, a mere moment spent and yet one that was entirely far too long for his impatience. Passing a lick across chapped lips, he considered protesting the delay, even opening his mouth to do so before the soft sound of approaching footsteps quieted him. Mouth slack and eyes trained on the shapeless dark, he listened intently as noise grew closer still before gradually fading. He began to resent the dark, if only for the disadvantage it put him at against the other.
“H-hey,” he started, abruptly alarmed by the notion of being left high and dry and in an otherwise unfamiliar dark space. “You got what you wanted. It’s only fair…”
A chuckle responded to the impudent little complaint and were he not so relieved over the reassurance inadvertently provided, he may very well have been annoyed. Warm albeit patronizing to a degree, the tone did not seem overly far, sounding from somewhere to the side of him.
“I am aware of the concept,” he remarked, a languid response accompanied by the subtle scrape of something being opened; a drawer perhaps. “Have patience. Or perhaps seek me out. See which course benefits you first.”
He did not budge from his seat but he certainly sulked plenty in reply; a slow slump against the firm cushion adorning the back of the chair, shoulders dropping in gradual emphasis. It wasn’t comfortable but it served his desire to express the annoyance; he knew Fray could see him.
“Fine,” he relented, obeying the fiend with reluctance not unlike a sullen brat. His shoulders pressing low against the back, he slid his ass forward in the seat, hands growing restless and beginning to roam. Finding interest beneath the cloth of his tunic, snaking his hand under the part of his shirt to brush across his stomach in familiar exploration; light touches trailing downward from his navel and following the path of coarse hair to the increasingly heavy pants of his breathing.
Further and further down, intentionally avoiding the aching flesh against his abdomen in favor of chasing the glee stirred by the taunting, albeit self-inflicted. With his arm snagged and hindered by the final link of his doublet holding the tunic closed, he resolved to remedy the annoyance, a soft breath spent as he abandoned his ventures to deal with the troublesome obstruction; lust-drunk fingers fumbling against the copper clasp before finding sure grasp to undo the buckle. Success led to the satisfaction of parting the doublet fully, hand grazing down in mindful draw to idle his fingertips along his thigh.
Still there was no sound, nothing worthy of note beyond the company of darkness and shadows. No suggestion that Fray remained and yet he held the fiend to his word regardless. To the company of shadows, his hand crept backwards, retracing the path in search of the want; a maddening ache that he need not struggle to locate; hard and steadily dripping as it was against his stomach. Slowly and to the muffled intake of a breath, he curled his fingers about his cock near to the base in a snug hold and rewarded the generous patience he expressed thus far in a slow stroke upwards. He bit the inside of his cheek to smother down the hiss, delighting in the rough friction against sensitive skin.
Once, then twice, and finally a third, a lazy sort of flex of his wrist as he waited sprawled in the chair. Fidgety and restless in the lapse, yielding readily to the temptation of more by his own efforts; picking up the pace of his hand. A lure and chase, savoring the hasty rub of his hand against his own needy flesh. A delirious thought whispered shameless deviance; the notion of the fiend’s hand wrapped tight around his cock and stroking, twisting then, his own hand mimicking the fabricated scene with the rough pulls he adopted. Lips parted and head tipped back, he pursued the high with a heaving chest as his eyes slipped shut. After all, there was little he could see in the dark.
“Is this your definition of patience?”
The smooth tone voiced just beside his ear set his blood aflame, eyes going wide to the burn that surged across his face. A flush of shame and one that staggered his hand, stilling the motion mid-stroke as he sought out composure.
“If you were going to keep me waiting and blind,” he began, not quite able to still the erratic beat of his heart over the start. The other’s voice was a reminder, a renewal of the lust he sought to sate. He turned his head towards the voice with little success in catching a glimpse, “In the dark no less…”
“Afraid of the dark?” Fray inquired, a near-enough lilt in his tone to suggest play; a tease he did not mind in the situation. It was a sound he enjoyed, enough so that he resumed the pace of his hand in slow, gentle pulls.
“Afraid?” He scoffed, putting on an air of dramatics not unlike the sort he witnessed in the taverns and bars; even a specific hunter he worked alongside was guilty of using the tactic. A bit of charm went a long way. “I’ve no fear, only regret in being robbed of the sight of you.”
A fond noise, horrendously close to him, hummed Fray’s appreciation. He felt then the warm breath against his ear, a warning to the voice being even nearer.
“Such charisma does not suit you.”
He swore he felt something brush his cheek, the fleetest of touches yet one that had him desiring nonetheless. A strange noise resulted from the backhanded compliment; muddled groaning from the back of his throat responding to the taunt as his hand squeezed tight around the base of his cock.
“I can’t be faulted for trying, eh?” He gritted out in a hoarse tone, peering into the void in search of someone, something, anything.
“For what little good it will do you,” Fray relented in a brief touch, lips ghosting along his jaw and finally, blissfully confirming the fiend’s presence. Without hesitation, he abandoned himself in favor of reaching for the other. He found nothing, fingers slipping blindly through the dark to his own noise of frustration.
“I… I asked,” he sneered, ire pricked in another failure. The throb that raced through his cock only compounded the annoyance. His fingers found the armrest, gripping firm in preparation to rise from his slouch, “Don’t waste my time.”
“I asked for your patience.” A reminder and one that kept him in his seat, unmoving as something brushed against his knees, an idle weight settling there a moment later. Despite his annoyance, his legs parted expectantly, making room before he realized the motion. Even then in irritation, he could not dissent the position; his only regret was that the weight did not fill the space he made between his thighs.
“You’ve had plenty of it,” he challenged, none too fierce in the hoarse twinge his voice took.
A shift in the weight, scratchy fabric scraping against the skin of his knees before slipping inward towards his thighs. The hitch in his breath coexisted with the golden eyes that opened before him, timing fondly with the waist his legs began to wrap around; a physicality he had desired so terribly and one he was not about to readily relinquish.
“Have I?” Fray countered, gaze looming before him; a brilliance, a solace within the dark and one he could certainly lose himself within. He almost did as the reply he intended to give was nearly lost upon his tongue.
“Yes,” he breathed, a tone that suggested otherwise and paired along with the notion that he was not fully certain what he agreed to, merely that he desired it. He considered it a victory to succeed in snagging the other with his leg, kept near enough and pleasantly high along at his thighs to stave of his desire for the moment. Some peculiar part of him hoped that the fiend would drag it out, further cementing the odd frenzy that overcame him. One leg and then a second, nudging heels against the back of his thighs to coax the other closer, almost close enough and yet not quite; seemingly trapped by himself and yet he knew better of Fray, knew better than to assume as much.
The hand set against his hip, yielding as he pulled the other in and angled just right for the contact he craved; a torturous brush of trousers against his taint and yet one he would gladly entertain for the time. He was terribly tempted to curse the man for still being dressed in those damnable trousers. With a low noise, he belatedly recognized that Fray spoke to him.
“So you say and still you indulge me,” Fray murmured. In the dark he perceived a vague outline towering over him, only defined by the gleam of vibrant gaze. The subtle clink of glass against wood drew his attention, glancing pointlessly to the armrest where he proposed the noise originated from.
He leered into the dark, curious. “This benefits me also.”
“It does. It will,” the fiend vowed, golden eyes crinkling strangely.
The urge to challenge danced at the tip of his tongue, merely bit back by the promise of the other’s gaze; a demand to know just when it will come held at bay by the notion of inevitable reward. Conceding in good faith, a display of trust and one repaid in the gradual downward drag of the fiend’s hand from hip to thigh, hooking under before beginning to lift his leg in mute guidance to set against the other’s shoulder. His breath hitched in excitement despite the awkward fold the position set him in; a vague thought of gratitude for all the hours spent in pursuit of greater flexibility albeit hardly for this particular situation.
Distanced reduced and then lessened further Fray rolling his hips, pressed flush against him; a taunt as much as it was a treat to feel the other’s clothed arousal grind near enough to his own, remarkable torment spawning from beautiful friction. Shuddering breath twisted into a hiss of frustration, he let go of himself in favor of swinging his hand in blind motion, finding success in landing a meager smack of protest against Fray’s side. Fingers sinking then into the fabric, he groused his complaint and pulled at the gambeson as the other’s eyes narrowed in humor once more.
“Weren’t you taught to not play with your food?”
To his complaint he received a genuine laugh, a flush spreading across his face in the unexpected mirth. The warmth of tone and passing thought that it was pleasant to hear forced his eyes shut in embarrassment.
“I’ve learned to savor my meals,” Fray returned, surely of mind to worsen the burn he felt in his face. He inwardly cursed the fiend that strived within the dark as readily as he outwardly whined nonsense praise for the grip of fingertips that sunk into the flesh of his ass.
“Pray,” the fiend began and in his addled state he very nearly asked to whom he should before the request continued, a gradual push upon his leg bending it further towards his head as Fray’s weight settled just a bit against it, “do think yourself above the common stock. Very rarely do they have the vitality you’ve displayed.”
“Flattery won’t get you farther than you already are,” he retorted, more of a rasp with eyes still shut. He pulled a face as the fingers abandoned their grip on his ass, yet the weight of the other remained and delayed his protest. The subtle pop of something opening followed by another clink of glass caught his attention, leaving his words to trail off with intrigue. “There’s no further for you to go…”
“Yes. I do have you rather well, don’t I?” He mused, a sliver of pride seeping into the tone and just enough to prick a nerve. A shift in his stance suggested a degree of warning and still he gasped all the same, shallow breath sucked in as slicked fingers traced the crack of his ass. The cool sensation sent a tremor through his frame, forcing his eyes to open once more to the glimmering gaze, albeit finding them far closer than previously. A mere breath away, the intensity of the watch softened at his reactions, drinking them in as he retraced the motion and watched him squirm.
“Do try to relax for me,” he murmured, a suggestion taken as command in the muted response of eager nodding. The fiend’s fingers teased, rubbing slick against the tight rim before gradually easing one in and to the knuckle before withdrawing; setting then a rhythm and repetition that rapidly stoked the burn within his blood to a blaze.
Plagued by soft noises poorly muffled and restless hands fussing, he resolved to solve at least one of his troubles as Fray laboured so generously for his benefit, twisting his hands into the fabric covering the other’s sides and so rudely barring him from exploring Fray’s skin. With little to be done about his whimpers and whines as any attempt in establishing composure was soon rendered pointless by minute changes in the fiend’s tactics. One finger joined by a second slick one, easing in before alternating between picking up the pace then slowing down once more, the crook and curl of torturous fingers; all various attributes that garnered response and thus reward. All too content to bask in reactions and submission both, Fray pressed his weight a bit further, trapping the writhing hunter between him and the chair. No protest offered beyond the breathless moan, head tipping back as he dripped steadily against his own stomach.
“Please,” came the choked plea, bordering on broken, “ fuck, please. ”
A hum of consideration, golden gaze drifting close and with it the visual tether he so intently clung to vanishing as well. The weight remained and the fingers most certainly did despite their pace slowing onto a torturous one. The company of darkness wrung a frustrated noise from the back of his throat, largely broken as he arched back against the slacking fingers. What pride he had that remained cared not, reduced as he was to beg of a devil without shame. They had their deal and the fiend would serve. So be it if he must beg to urge it along.
“Please, just— fuck, just… ” Inarticulate and trembling, he pulled at Fray’s tunic, a vague urging for the other as words failed to organize themselves to his liking. He had never ached so terribly, a maddening need setting his body to shake against the fiend. Squirming, pulling in vain against a form unmoving, frustration and want bleeding into heartfelt pleas, “ Please, Fray— Ah! Fuck, please .”
He nearly sobbed when the other set his forehead against his own. Terribly close and terribly tempting, he craned his neck and tilted his to brush his lips against Fray’s, a shameless display with the intention to entice. Another hum was his lacking reward, soft yet soothing rather than contemplative. He attempted once more, pressing up in a kiss that doubled as a cover to muffle the mournful moan uttered over the withdrawal of his fingers.
"Please, please ," he panted against the other's lips, clinging on in the dark.
"You need not beg," Fray sighed, a soft breath that suggested satisfaction regardless of his words. The grip against his thigh tightened briefly as the other shifted his weight, leaning off and breaking contact in favor of tending to something he could not see in the dark. His gaze returned then, merely slits of gold that provided far more comfort than a devil’s should. To be regarded with such fondness forced a hitch into his erratic breathing and the words that followed did him no favors. “I know what you desire.”
Desire felt as an understatement to the burning ache that tormented him; a throb he could feel throughout his body. A low groan twisting into hasty words over the brush of bare skin against the back of his thigh, his fingers dug deeper into Fray’s tunic, “Then— Just fuck me. ”
Yielding finally to the want of the one squirming beneath him, Fray obliged with a soft sound, rolling his hips forward to meet once more and treat the hunter to the rub of his slicked cock against taint. In favor of choking down the shameless groan, he pitched forward, equally graceless and much more forceful than necessary for his intention of claiming the fiend’s mouth once more, feeling then the other’s lips twist against his own in a smile despite the inadvertent clash of teeth. With no further delay, no further tormenting, Fray dragged the head of his cock into position, aligning against his rim with a nudge from the aid of his hand. A sudden snap of the fiend’s waist finally granted him what he craved, catching and biting down upon the other’s lower lip as his vision blurred to the smack of Fray’s hips against his ass as he hilted deep.
A moment of stillness spent towards adaptation, little more than a few erratic beats of his pounding heart and yet he was grateful nonetheless. He grinned deliriously despite the flesh caught between his teeth, delighting in various aspects of the situation but none more so than the low groan Fray made against him; a victory he would claim from it. All too soon did he forfeit his prize, mouth dropping open in a nearly muted groan as Fray began to move in motions which seemed far too gentle and slow for his liking; all too gentle of the monsters they painted his kind to be.
The hand clutching the firm flesh of his thigh staved off any protest he could raise, content to cling for a time and spread his leg further apart for the fiend between them. He unwrapped his leg from Fray’s waist, hooking his knee over the armrest in silent bid for more. A soft noise and expression of gratitude, the fiend slid his hand to find purchase in fat along taunt muscle. His fingertips dug in, holding him steady through the easy rocking of his hips. Bliss it was to finally receive his reward in part and yet not so immediate for his gratification, fingers twisting in against the padding of his tunic and gradually snaking towards the button clasping the clothing shut; seeking more in shameless greed.
“They spoke of your lot as monsters,” he remarked in confident provocation between shallow breaths, fingers playing at the cold button roughly half-way down the fiend’s chest; a test of sorts as he seized the metal and tugged to no hostile response. He undid the button, unimpeded.
“And so you expect me to take you as one,” Fray stated, punctuating the statement with a sharp jerk of his hips, slamming to hilt in roughness that returned the stars to his sight and staggered his progress against irksome buttons.
His best, most articulate response was little more than a strained whine; wordless plea as he pulled against cloth. He felt the soft brush of skin across his cheek, belatedly realizing the fiend had come to bow his head beside his shoulder, body bent in ease as he resumed the steady back-and-forth of his hips, pliable form molding to the fiend’s ministrations; how readily he yielded under a demon’s touch, how eagerly he pressed into contact.
The breath against his ear rendered him unsteady, a feat considering his already established instability by the fiend’s determined efforts, his own hitching in a gasp over the skim of heat. As the breath rendered him duly unbalanced then the words themselves would be his undoing, hoarse tone spoke so terribly low and fond and contrary to the words.
“How perverse. ”
It was almost a purr and almost enough to make him sob over the sudden burn that surged through him upon realization and weight of the words; reigniting the fever that plagued him. Peculiar shame and conflict wherein he knew it mattered not and yet. He settled upon a choked sound, rattling out of his throat as he sought out a few more gasps of air as the fiend’s grip sunk so delightfully into his leg and thigh.
“Is that what you wish of me? To be the monster you have been led to perceive?”
He trembled then for want and need, shallow breaths leading to a lightheadedness that left him amidst the strange sensation of drowning and yet it was what he wanted. He supposed, whilst being trapped under the fiend, that Fray was not so much a monster as he was a good lay. And still it was the monster that he craved instead of a minute difference separating the mundane. He sucked in a breath and then one more, expending what air he found in favor of submission albeit with a twist.
“If it gets me a good fuck,” he rasped, brazen and heedless and entirely too far gone to care excessively in regards to offense; for there must certainly be some in a dismissive, selfish reply. He had hoped to provoke a reaction, a ploy to get more of what he wanted and yet the pace of Fray’s hips stayed the same infuriating rock.
If Fray had taken insult from his crude confession, he gave no tell as to it. His breath stilled at the slow turn of lips along his throat, mirroring opposite the placement of the freshly scabbed wounds as he grinned against his neck. Expecting the sink of teeth or graze of fangs, desiring even a slight nip; any shape of pain would have sufficed for the bliss and burn and yet he received naught. His chest deflated in a held breath as the lips parted after lingering in a moment.
“If that is all you wish to get,” the fiend acquiesced, a lilt to his tone playing at something begrudging; teasing at a hassle all the while his fingers dipped so eagerly into his flesh. The dig of blunted nails could not compare to the bite of fangs and still he ached over the sensation. With Fray’s grip hard enough to bruise, he clung to the dizzying wish that those would not be the only marks left behind. “Yet it may be more than what you are prepared for.”
A scoff took shape, impudent breath accompanying fidgety fingers in resuming their effort against the buttons, working the downward path with less and less care with each success. With the lowest button pulled apart in little grace, he celebrated the victory by snaking his hand through the parted clothing, delighting in the warmth beneath his palm as he traced his hand across the cage of Fray’s ribs.
“I’ve heard that boast before,” he remarked and the crinkled of golden eyes should have encouraged a measure of care. Heedless, he continued in confidence, “I can take whatever you can give.”
The fiend hummed in low tone, contemplative and otherwise unconvinced by the swagger. Despite what doubts the other may have had towards his abilities, they went unvoiced as he eased to hilt and stilled, looming over him in the dark. Watching the odd shine of Fray’s gaze, he felt his heart trip up.
The devil made sure of it. A sharp buck from Fray’s hips pulled a gasp from him as easily as it pushed him further into the chair; taking full advantage of the furniture to bounce the hunter against his waist, charmed by him so readily pressing back against his cock if the rough noise was any indication. Before he could right his breathing, the other began in earnest, withdrawing to tip before thrusting back to base in a solid smack against his ass. Fray did not jest lightly, making good on his word in the brutal pace he set, crowding the gasping hunter beneath him.
The hunter was not of mind to forfeit his prize nor admit to being in over his head, albeit the later was perhaps suggested in the way he struggled to regain the air spent between broken moans and gasps. He clutched at the fiend, one hand fisting into the fabric that draped open whilst the other sunk dull nails into the taut muscle of Fray’s side. Although it seemed largely unneeded for the fiend to continue his frenzy, he forced senseless sounds into clipped words. Each one spent in favor of offering assurance, breathless encouragement without an onze of shame.
“Ah— Fuck, yes! Like that!” Strangled urging interrupted by a sharp gasp before continuing unabated. He abandoned his hold on the cloth to seek out more skin, fingers ghosting up his neck to brush against his jaw in trembling exploration. “Nnh, finally… it took you… long enough!”
Fray grunted, sparse acknowledgement spent towards the lightheaded praise he babbled. The fiend squeezed his thigh, a gesture he eagerly accepted as appreciation, nails pricking his flesh before easing up. He took it as a sign to continue, explicits dripping off his tongue in barely intelligible approval as the other fucked him relentlessly.
“ Fuck , don’t stop,” he groaned. The ache beneath his skin seared in a blissful frenzy, nearing a peak as his cock dripped in neglect against his stomach, leaving behind a sticky mess. A desperate sound led his hand from Fray’s chest and to himself, skimming across his stomach to take himself into hand. Shuddering at touch and giving a strangled hiss over the contact, he arched against the hardwood.
“You’re ruthless,” he rasped, a compliment and one Fray repaid with a rough thrust of his hips to further prove the point.
To a choked breath, his fingers found Fray’s mouth, heedlessly pressing his thumb between the other’s lips, seeking out a fang to trace against as the other fucked into him without restraint. Fray permitted him, unhindered by invasive fingers, mouth opening then in a shallow pant as the rough pad of his thumb pushed against the pronounced edge. In ease the skin split and received immediate response in the slow pass of the fiend’s tongue smoothing over the meager gash, licking away the tribute to a low noise from the back of his throat. Subtle pain was of no concern in the delight sparking behind his eyes over the brush of tongue.
Both sound and gesture had him shivering, squeezing his cock as his mouth dropped open in muted cry. The rumble was bound to haunt him and the tongue pushing steady against the cut to bleed it further brought him no sense of balance. One wet pass and then another, each sending thrills up the length of his spine. He bit his own lip as Fray closed his own around the thumb, sucking softly at the flesh before relinquishing it to a whimper almost muffled. The hand changed targets, digging then into Fray’s shoulder and clinging on for dear life.
“Do not intend to give more than you can,” he breathed, a warning rounded and smoothed by peculiar fondness. Dragging his grip higher up the hunter’s thigh, the other dug his nails in at his hip. Tipping his head, Fray robbed him of the comfort within his warm gaze, hot breath ghosting against his neck once more. “I’ve more yet to give. You need only take.”
Simple instruction and generous promise, he yielded in a hoarse moan, words discarded as he stroked along throbbing flesh. Submission had never felt so good, a notion he would not consider later and sooner one he would deny yet in the moment one that spurred on the heat that coiled tight in his gut. He made an effort to keep his hand paced and steady, he truly did and yet the warmth of his lips against his neck tested him terribly. The mild bites between kisses and further interspaced with tender sucks delivered to feverish flesh proved it to be a test he would fail. Devolving into quick and sloppy jerks of his wrist, the rasp of his breathing somehow seemed louder than the smack of their bodies.
“ Shit , I’m— fuck , I—”
Incomplete and frenzied, he attempted his best warning and mustered little of any sense, body tensing between Fray’s unceasing vigor and the reckless haste of his hand. The fiend’s hold tightened, an ache compounding the throbbing he shook from. Closer and nearer still, he choked on a gasp, teetering at the peak. A sudden sharp pain staggered him yet could not deter, instead the plunge of teeth only pushed him over the edge in breathless cry. His head knocked against the chair in his finish, uncaring as he spilled over his hand, painting his stomach and chest with his release.
Unfocused in the afterglow, shaking through the bliss until the high subsided, resting all but boneless in the chair, he barely recognized the licks paid against the passing twinge left by the blunt bite. Some devious if delirious voice whispered the desire for the sting of fangs. Panting open-mounted to find his breath, he wriggled, a motion that came to have him belatedly realize that Fray continued his pace. The blissful daze shaken off with a soft moan, sluggish limbs all the less inclined to remain cramped in the chair. He squeezed the other’s shoulder, a strung-out fatigue seeping into his limbs.
“Back with me now?” The other murmured against the bitemark, a rough tone that sent a thrill between his shoulders. His thrusts maintained their vigor and the fiend himself showed no signs of tiring.
He squirmed beneath Fray, taking shallow breaths over the oversensitivity that came to surface in the fade of ecstasy. “You… You’re still going?”
Retracing his path with lips and fangs, meandering back up to the side of his jaw, the fiend paused entirely after sliding back to hilt against him. The heat of breath against his ear had him shivering.
“You claimed that you could take whatever I could give. I have more yet.”
“I thought— Ah! I thought saying your lot had ‘unholy stamina’ was just a joke,” he whined, clinging tight as fangs nip at his throat before feeling them twitch into an odd smile.
“Oh? Is it less humorous when proven true? Perhaps when you return to them you can educate them on the truth,” Fray drawled, a tease he supposed and yet one with enough influence to force a blush across his face and unsteady breath from his chest.
“As if,” he returned, biting down on his lip as Fray resumed his motions, albeit a far more gentle rhythm to handle. Clutching at both clothing and flesh, he panted out overwhelmed breaths.
“Ashamed to be under the quarry you have sworn to hunt?” The other inquired, a lilt of play in his tone that tipped towards a hoarseness, an excitable hint to a crack in his otherwise unfaltering composure. “Ashamed to be fucked by a fiend?”
His head lolled to the side, craning his neck in a frank invite and one the fiend hardly needed to claim the stretch of skin. To the burn that simmered, building again in weary sensitive flesh, he rattled out a sigh to so eloquently reply, “ Fuck… ”
Lips and fangs and claws alike; each feature playing dedicated roles upon his flesh as the other fucked him intently. He was not proud to whimper yet nor did he easily recognize himself as the source, so indisposed by oversensitive nerves as he was. With little energy left to spend besides in the pursuit of holding tight, he submitted to the heaviness of his eyelids, closing them while his mouth remained open to pant soft sounds. The brush of lips against his jaw provided scant warning to the seizure of his own, Fray’s mouth claiming his and quieting his cries for a moment’s pause. Despite the tip of his chin in bid for more, the fiend parted and leaned his head to speak against his ear.
“Such a strange one,” the other mused hoarsely, disregarding the futile pulls made against his tunic. “You’re a rare breed to be so…”
The straying of Fray’s words prompted him to utter a sound he intended to be questioning and yet sounded more unsteady to himself. He knew he didn’t quite care exactly about the fiend’s thoughts, at least not when he was more overwhelmed by his cock stiffening against his stomach once more. He might have spared a laugh if he had the air for it; another strained whimper worked just as well he supposed.
“ … so tremendously accommodating,” he finally concluded, a bit of weight added to the lean he set upon the hunter. Pressing at his legs, urging them apart further in stretch, the fiend had more praise to offer.
“So generous… so responsive… so tight ,” he listed off the favorable traits in slow succession, each a sigh that grew more hurried with every addition.
Despite the protesting twinge caused in the stretch of tired limbs, a thrill still pulsed through his frame at the contrast of words spoken so fondly contrary to rough treatment that accompanied them. He hadn’t expected to find bliss in extremes, merely having chased a kick, yet he could not say that he felt any regret in doing so. The devil beginning to come unraveled from his composure due to him offered no end of satisfaction.
“I must say,” he gritted out, nearly winded in his confession. “It has become a terrible temptation to keep you for myself.”
A choked sound from the back of his throat commended the sentiment albeit with little regard to the possessive overtones, the meager pulls of his hands upon the gambeson finally gaining some success in yield from the fiend; a leeway granted in submission under his tug which brought their foreheads together in a none-to-graceful bump. Neither responded to the collision, not that he had much sense to protest the knock even if it had hurt, instead cutting the distance in an upward surge to catch Fray’s mouth once more with his own. Perhaps he should not have relished the stagger of the fiend’s hips as much as he did, a sudden snap prompted innocently by the race of his tongue across the other’s lips. Incessant tongue playing, teasing against pilant flesh until the fiend parted before him, allowing for the adventurous exploration of bold tongue. The vague taste of blood lured him deeper. Emboldened by his permitted venture, pressing his tongue against the other’s, seeking reaction before finally gaining some in the return of press against his intrusion. It was perhaps the most resistance he presented to the devil, the sort of tussle he knew would not matter should the other desire victory over him; a fight he could willingly and afford to lose.
Never had he expected to find the devil cowing before him, bending to the path he carved within the fiend’s maw as he chased down the metallic taste he belatedly recognized as his own. Were he allowed, he very well could have lost himself within Fray whilst the devil so eagerly lost himself against him. It was not equivalent; the greater risks he faced versus what the demon could and still he pursued it to the last. His own words rang true, piercing through the lust without mercy; anything for a good fuck. It wasn’t wise and yet he knew as well little of what he had done held little wisdom to it. The matter balanced on a principle of his desire, a want which the fiend readily entertained and indulged in. A mutual agreement, he supposed, as the heat coiled tight in his stomach for a second time.
Fray tore away, jerking back from invasive tongue far too late to suggest dismay and gasped shallow breath to curse him in less than conventional means, “It would not do now would it? To keep you all for myself, that is. Appetizing as you are, I propose your kind would come for you in time, mm?”
“Aye,” he gasped, eyes creeping open to spy the other’s bright gaze as he pulled at the other yet to no avail in this attempt. “Keep this up and I might just return for you though, eh?”
“Keep it up, hm?” Fray hummed to another jerk of his hips, eyes crinkling in strange mirth, finding a bit of ground to stand upon despite the stagger he coaxed from the fiend over his lips finding purchase between the gambeson’s collar and his jaw. “Have care towards what requests you make.”
A warning he would readily tempt, if the previous results were any indication of grand success, yet he noted the needless caution if only to spare himself from furthering the ample fatigue he felt beyond the build of heat within his core. He conceded in wordless submission, furling his fingers into the cloth like so many times before, a gesture otherwise useless for all the good it had done. His lips kept busy, trialing to find a peculiar set of divots left upon his skin and ones he belatedly recognized as a faded brand left by fangs. Perhaps he should have presumed a significance as well and yet he, a hunter who strayed much too far from the chosen path, heedlessly traced the scars with his tongue. He could not tell where the other’s growl began and the groan ended; not that it seemed to matter as he delighted so keenly in the response.
“Have care.” Another warning, strained and nearly cracked.
A warning he eagerly disregarded, clutching tight upon the tunic as his teeth clipped shy of the old bite in languid graze. Perhaps he had not expected a response so animated, the gesture he believed meager earning him a sharp thrust apart from the steady ones he had nearly become accustomed to and one that sent an abrupt throb through his cock; all too easily reminding him of the dizzying desire that ached in weary bones and clogged up his head. Despite his better judgement, although it was debatable if he ever had any, he chased down a greater reaction, biting down upon the mark without an instant of hesitation. Spurred on by the heat in his gut coiling tight, he sunk pitiful canines into the flesh, managing to leave a vibrant mark of his own before the fiend growled low and snapped his hips, burying himself to hilt in rough thrust.
More than enough force to push him back against the chair, forcing him to abandon his claim upon the devil’s hide in favor of sucking down a gasp, trembling with renewed fervor as claws dug a bit deeper into his skin. Were it not for the gruff breathing painting his neck in heat and filling his ears to the point of hearing nothing else, he might have been concerned by the creak made by the chair. Time spent in stillness, wriggling beneath the tense figure that crowded him in. Fray stalled, a gesture he may have considered appreciative of and yet found entirely unnecessary in the exhaustion that nagged at him amidst the simmering burn.
“ C’mon ,” he whined a halfhearted protest, arms shaking as he held onto the other, teetering terribly close and yet still not enough. One hand dropped, graceless as he smacked against his stomach before slipping his fingers to curl about his cock. Sparing a brief hiss over the sensitivity that had his toes curling, he pulled at both himself and Fray as he rambled his plea, “ Please— Just finish already, just cum.”
First, a broken noise rattling out from the fiend’s throat. Second, a change in grip, softening so tenderly upon his flesh; claws withdrawing from eager indents and fingertips shifting off the subtle blotches he left behind. His hands roaming in gentle strokes, finding new leverage along his hips for the fiend to dip his fingers against the bone. Third, the fiend’s forfeit, issued quietly beside his ear; preluded by a shallow breath summoning a degree of calm albeit hastily composed and largely unsteady.
“As you wish,” Fray assented, nigh breathless and yet resuming his motion without hesitation. Gentler and slower now, a deep rocking where he did not pull back beyond half his length, a display of control that did not seem fair for how long it had been drawn out and how he still managed to draw soft moans from a sore throat.
“ Please ,” he hissed, urging as he worked his fist around his cock in measured strokes, biting down on his own tongue as a twist of his wrist brought him closer in a sharp thrill along his spine. “ Please— Ah! Fuck … You— You’re—”
You’re driving me mad.
A sentiment he failed to shape into words, a feat he found nearly impossible to accomplish while chasing his finish. It was not a sentiment the other required, his head bowed to plant open-mouth breaths against his neck as he pursued his own end. Picking up the pace in gradual increase, maintaining the tenderness that seemed to better suit a lover than monster and yet the fiend would hear no complaint from him. On the contrary, the best he could manage was a mix of mewling cries and choked encouragement.
Closer and higher still, trembling at the peak and writhing between rough wood and firm muscle, he gasped shallow breaths as sloppy strokes couldn’t quite put him over as fast as he would have liked. A whine of frustration loosed and then pitched odd at the sudden introduction of fangs pricking his neck, a thrill that held far too much power as it pushed him over the ledge in sudden release. Shivering through his high and spilling over his own hand, adding more to the mess that covered his stomach and chest. With the stars he glimpsed being replaced by a familiar darkness of sleep encroaching at the corners of his eyes, he recognized belatedly the low groan uttered by Fray as he buried deep in trembling form to meet his finish.
Seconds and minutes could have been lifetimes for as aware as he was, fading fast as his body went lax despite the discomfort that readily made itself known from the time spent cramped in the chair. Fray spoke, saying something he couldn’t make out and yet found the tone he murmured in similarly pleasant on his ears. He supposed he said something in return or in the least made a noise but he couldn’t confidently wager on it, slipping fast into the bliss and exhaustion of a second afterglow. He wasn’t proud to have passed out before Fray had even pulled out and yet he could not be proud or otherwise of something he did not remember.
He woke to a pat on his thigh, a frank gesture that repeated until he made a decent response; a groan sufficed it seemed. His eyes opened to a dimness, albeit brightened by the near warm light of a lantern rather than the darkness he had become so fondly introduced to previously. Tacky with sweat yet otherwise cleaned of the exchange, he shifted against the sheets beneath him and only then realized he wasn't still crammed in the chair. He stretched, a sprawl that was terribly indecent in his state of undress, as he found he could not tell where his shirt had gotten to as well as the rest of his garb, and simultaneously the most satisfying choice he could have made in that instant. When his thigh bumped against something upon the bed, he startled and jerked his limbs back from their stretch whilst peering at the vague outline sitting at the bed’s edge.
“Oh, you,” he breathed, deflating in the recognition to relax against the sheets. Slowly, as he returned to his senses, he felt the terrible ache of his muscles all the more keenly.
“Frightened you, did I?”
He caught the slight turn of a smile and he shifted on the bed, raising his shoulders in a shrug. Disinclined to move much, he craned his neck and winced at the twinge he earned. It was worth it for the better vantage point to study his host in the dim light. For as much as he had seen before this moment, which amounted to little more than vibrant eyes behind a helm, he hadn’t known what to expect. He hadn’t expected much and still the man who sat on the bed seemed… right. He looked as he should have, he supposed. Fray looked no more a monster than he did himself.
He glanced away, an incredulous huff paid prior to response, “I think I proved otherwise on that, yeah?”
The crinkled of Fray’s eyes seemed all the more fond when paired with a smile albeit subtle as they were and he didn’t quite find it fair.
“Perhaps you have. In the least you have proven yourself to be… very determined when you set your mind to something,” Fray’s peculiar compliment urged a burn into his cheeks, an embarrassment he laughed through.
“Determined, huh? Some people use a different word for it,” he admitted, bringing a hand to pass against his neck in a sheepish rub. He hadn’t expected the ache he earned in his gesture, grimacing over the soreness of tender flesh. With a passing memory that worsened the heat in his face, he wondered at how hard the bruises would be to hide.
“I would not blame them for doing so,” the fiend drawled, a bit of mirth in his tone before he shifted topics. “What was it again that sent you to hunt me?”
“Ah?” He voiced, at first startled away from lingering fingertips against the dull sting before barking a nervous laugh to the question proper, “Well, what was it that I said?”
Fray canted his head in the question he received in return, eyes narrowing just slightly, “In fewer or more words, your house had sent you to seek a ‘beast’ within the Brume. Only you and your gods know why you then decided to lay with it.”
He began to stir, sitting up with a good deal of effort and a groan muffled by lips already pressed into a fine line lest his guilty smile give way to further interrogation. The sharpness of fiend’s gaze had him fidget in place.
“See,” he began and trialed off as he caught the deep bruises along his legs in the lamp light. The recognition seemed to merely amplify the pain in his back. Somehow, he felt no regret, only awe. “Seven hells, you did a number…”
The other huffed, almost a laugh and yet not quite amused. He urged a reply, “You were saying.”
“Ah, right… See, the funny thing is that I’ve no house per-say and it would be rather generous to consider my current band a formal order at this point. You know, politics making a royal mess of things. I did hear rumors of your kind running around down here though. Funny I got lucky and actually found one of you,” he confessed, partially rambling before ending it on a chuckle.
Fray did not laugh, instead he frankly clarified, “You found and fucked one.”
“Aye,” he confirmed, albeit in a quiet voice.
“And now what will you do?”
He breathed a sigh he couldn’t remember holding, a notion that he was in less trouble stemming from the lightness of the other’s tone. He replied in ease, “Easy, I go back to the greater prey!”
“And what is that?” There was a rather undesirable lilt in his tone that suggested disbelief.
“The church, technically,” he stated plainly, a confidence that likely would have been more fitting had he been wearing pants and not covered in various marks and bruises, each made by the very person he attempted to impress.
First, a slow blink and one that suggested that the fiend believed he had misheard. Second, a slow cant of his head as he watched the hunter stay firm in his statement, ravaged form a spectacle of the absurd and audacious as he tucked and folded his legs close upon the bed. Third and finally, Fray laughed; he accepted the absurdity in the unflagging conviction, how his gaze did not waver nor stray. He laughed and laughed, a sound which would have been more pleasant if he was not the cause for it.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he muttered, a bit soured as the mirth was milked at his expense.
“Truly?” Fray rasped, a hand brought up to his face as his shoulders shook with laughs that went unvoiced.
“Cross my heart,” he swore, smoothing down his hackles over the fond expression he found, albeit he puzzled over if it was patronizing or not.
The other deflated in a content sigh, pulling his hand away to turn the golden gaze upon him once more, “Truly now… Then let us cut a deal, hm?”
His brows furrowed in the offer, “A deal?”
“If you wish to hunt the church,” Fray began, smiling in fashion far more predatory than he had previously seen, “You will need far more aid than what you have currently, if all you have is a paltry band behind you.”
He knew that was true and he knew as well how limited their resources were within a weathered city so heavily influenced by the church. Biting at the inside of his cheek, he ventured out, “And in exchange for your aid…”
“I did not speak in jest when I told you how tempting it had become to keep you.”
He stopped short, freezing up to the sudden heat that washed over him as the words slowly sunk in. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he laughed, “Well, I can’t promise forever. I won’t be staying here once it’s seen through.”
“Hm, then a temporary arrangement,” the other conceded with only a bit of disappointment. He raised his hand and extended it, “In exchange the aid from my kin and myself, you will become mine for a time.”
He reached for the devil and shook hands, “Deal.”
Fray smiled and echoed his sentiment.
As the devil released his hand, he felt no different and would have laughed had he expected otherwise. Still the smile stretched and the words that followed seized his attention through a thrill racing up his spine.
“Now, let us speak of your… ‘servitude’ to me.”