Author's Note:
This is a very short piece, only 1200 words-ish. I was just trying to capture a single moment of conflicted emotion. I hope I have done that.
Demon Dom: A Vignette
"I really don't like it when you drink so much." The tone of his voice was sympathetic, but it still irked me.
"I drink because it's the only thing that lets me feel anything." It wasn't quite true, but much more truth than lie. I drank because it was the only thing that had even half a chance of shutting up the ever present voice telling me I needed to kill myself. And yeah, I had been bad about drinking this weekend. A pint of whiskey on Friday, a half pint yesterday along with three glasses of rosé, and now I was most of the way through another pint of Bourbon today.
"James, we really need to see about getting you back on your meds. Humans live so briefly I want to enjoy every moment with you." Stephen's lovely tenor voice came through the whiskey fog to my ears. A fucking demon named Stephen, I thought I had come to terms with that years ago, but it still made me chuckle occasionally.
He was just so fucking beautiful. His curly, soft chest hair, his firm muscles, the bit of softness around his belly, and, oh gods that fucking cock. Here he was in nothing but tight jeans and an apron standing in front of me. I looked at the empty shot glass in my hand and set it back down. "I'm sorry, love, it's been a bad day. I still don't know how we're going to come up with rent for next month, we still need to pay the electric, phone, and internet bills, and we're living on fucking cash advances already and payday was only four days ago."
I sighed as I felt his arms wrap around me. I didn't want to be touched right now, but I was too tired and drunk to fight it, and, well, fuck, being held just felt so good.
"James, honey, we're going to be okay. You don't need to worry this much." I wished I could believe him, but demons weren't covered under the non-human species civil rights act. Stephen hadn't had a job in five years, and I knew just being a house husband bothered him. He grabbed my chin in his hand and brought my lips to his. They tasted as they always did, cinnamon, hot pepper, and nutmeg, it was actually a very pleasant taste.
"Love, I'm sorry I've been drinking. Do you want to punish me later?" I don't know why I was trying to make innuendo at the moment, but maybe I wanted to be punished. To feel the pain of his hand slapping my ass, the sharpness of his nails against my nipples, the feel of his teeth biting into my neck, the tightness of ropes against my wrists...
I felt the dampness of pre-cum in my shorts as the thoughts went through my head.
He looked at me askance. "Are you sure that's what you want?"
I nodded my head as I downed another shot.
His soft lips brushed my ear as he whispered, "We'll talk about this later, after dinner."
Dinner was just an old household staple, macaroni and cheese with ground beef and broccoli in it. I downed more of the whiskey pint while we ate regardless of Stephen's growing scowl.
The rest of the night passed in a bit of a drunken haze as we watched a show together on the couch. Finally, I felt his hands on me firmly, guiding me to the bedroom. I felt him roughly pull my clothes off. I felt the ropes compressing my wrists as he bound me, standing me up and attaching my bound arms to the hook we had installed in the room's ceiling.
Yes, this was what I wanted, this was what I needed.
"I'm not gagging you because I know your sinuses have been acting up, but remember we have neighbors. The safe word is chucklebunny." I nodded my understanding, as he stepped away.
