Baiting the Beast

Veryl didn't understand why he was so agitated. He paced his room, his steps in the heavy boots heavy on the wood floor, trying to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It was almost as if he were feverish, but he was a fire demon, a hellhound. It was not likely that a fever was the cause.

His hands shook as he leaned on the low dresser on one side of the room. He drew another breath in and swallowed hard, but it barely helped. It just didn't make sense. He wished Sierra hadn't gone home; even though she'd be back within the month, he longed to run his hand through her hair, sniff at her skin...taste her...

Realization struck him, and he felt ill. He was feeling the Binding, the primal urge demon kind felt when they happened upon someone compatible with them, similar to the attachment humans felt to those considered 'soulmates'. The only problem was, that didn't make sense. It only happened when the female was within sniffing distance; he'd never heard of it happening when the female wasn't actually there.

It wasn't a major problem, though. He could leave and be there in only an hour or so, and take her there and then. She wouldn't mind. She'd likely jump him before he even had a chance to sneak up on her, the silly woman. She had a habit of catching him off guard.

He put his hand on the door knob and froze. Distantly, he heard a gentle voice, murmuring, and felt the accompanying buzz of an answer in the back of his head. Instantly, he became aware he was uncomfortably aroused, almost painfully. He snatched his hand back from the door and backed away, magic sparking around him as he struggled for control.

Sierra was his wife, the love of his life, there was no doubt about it. She was perfect, her temperament suited his, and her body was beautiful. She was a warrior, like he was, and she understood that as a demon, he had to be faithful to his Contract first, and then to her, but...

He was not feeling the Binding for her.

His door opened and she stood there, not bothering to knock. The young woman he recently found after years of chasing, the woman he'd hunted. She was possessed illegally by a far stronger demon, their pact strong, and she'd been causing major trouble with the unbalance the demon's magic caused, but she herself was a calm, kind spirit. Her long acquaintance with the demon had left a toll on her, giving her an unusual appearance; silver hair, curled into ringlets down her back, pale skin, light grey eyes, as if all her color had been washed away through the years. She was beautiful, too, and had her own magic, a subtle blend of ice and perhaps just a touch of aether.

She stopped in the doorway, losing her smile at his glare. Her eyes widened, just a touch, and she half turned to run, but he moved too fast for her. His hand tangled in her long hair and he jerked her back into the room, then slammed the door shut. She landed hard and scrambled to push herself back, away from him, as he panted, heat tearing through him.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was a whisper, and he heard more voices outside, Rose and Sarah. He expected her to scream for help, wanted her to, but she remained silent. He realized she trusted him more than she trusted those two, and cursed her mistake.

"Get out." He snarled. Her eyes snapped to the door, and he realized he was holding it shut.

"I can't." She said, and he tried to make himself throw her out. His muscles did not obey, too focused on getting what his body so desperately craved. His hand clenched into a fist, nails leaving shallow gouges in the door.

He saw her fear and then, to his annoyance, he heard the demon within her, his voice dark.

[Blast him out of the way.] His voice was cold, and it echoed in her mind. Her head tilted, just a little bit, and he saw her considering it, and that made the anger simmer over, hint at rage.

"I don't want to." She whispered, but her eyes were distant. Veryl pulled the magic towards him, weaving it into the walls, and snapped his barriers in place; not physical ones, but Seals designed to prevent demonic interference. She drew in a sharp breath and let out a sharp cry, cut off from her demonic protector, and fear flowed into her empty eyes.

"That's better." He growled, and she put a hand to her mouth, pushed herself further away. He stepped forward, quickly, too fast for her to move and reached down, caught a handful of her shirt and lifted her off the ground. "You pay attention to ME, not him. You look at ME." He shook her, slightly, and then reminded himself not to harm her.

"St-stop this." The tremble in her voice annoyed him. He bared his teeth and let go, and she hit the floor as he paced back and forth, in front of the door.

He made a few passes, thinking, then caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around and backhanded her as she pulled at the door knob, breaking the Seals; he slammed his hand on the door once more, shutting it and slammed the Seals back in place. He looked at her, laying on the floor, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"Damn you." He snarled. "Why did you even come in?" He dropped to his knees on either side of her and she held her hands up, as if to protect her face. He grabbed her wrists and slammed them down to either side of her head, looking down at her. "I don't want to hurt you." His own voice trembled, and he spoke true; he didn't want to, but the magic that wove between them was powerful. It demanded her sacrifice, and he was near powerless to resist it.

"I don't mind being hurt." Her voice changed, and drew a shuddering breath as she spoke.

"You don't know what you say." He warned her, but his heart throbbed. It was true. She did not shirk from pain, and she bore the brunt of magic well. Her possession by the other demon proved that well; his magic, the magic of Void, of Darkness, was reflected in her eyes sometimes, his power channeled through her, and still she allowed him to remain in her soul. Would she for Veryl, as well?

"I do. You're in pain." As she spoke, her eyes welled with tears. "He was too. I can protect you-?" She had no idea what she was offering, but the magic was already marking them. She tensed as she felt her left hand heat up, lines carving themselves into her palm. A matching Seal was cutting itself into Veryl's hand, shallow but hot, blood welling up in the cuts.

"You're an idiot." He ground out. "You've no idea what you just accepted. Why do you do that?" He lifted her wrists and slammed them down, and she cried out. He leaned down and kissed her, heat roiling around them, his power fueling the flames that sprouted around them.

Their tongues played together, and he tasted the saltiness of tears, the evidence of her fright. One of his hand let go of hers, slowly, his fingers trailing down her arm, whispering over her clothes as she lay under him, quivering.

"If you don't fight me, I won't hurt you." He promised her. "Just let me...just give yourself to me." He gripped her bodice and tugged, persistent, until it ripped at the seams and bared her untouched flesh. She whimpered and turned her head to the side, looking away, but still did not fight him. He didn't dare breathe as he brushed a single finger around her nipple, then gently, holding his breath, he gripped her full breast in his hand. It was as he thought it might feel, slightly cool to his heated touch, her skin soft but firm, perfect. Unable to resist, he leaned down even further and licked her.

She panicked. He felt it before she did, really, in the way that her skin prickled in goosebumps, and then her hips bucked upwards and she began to struggle against him. She was stronger than the average human, due to her nature and prolonged exposure with the supernatural, but he was still stronger. She managed to shove him off balance and push herself backwards a few feet, but he grabbed her ankle and dragged her right back. She screamed and begged him to let go, but he was too far gone. He caught hold of her hands again, shoved her down and his teeth closed on her throat. He tasted blood and he told himself to stop before he heard her seriously, tried to drag himself back. He pushed himself up, away from her, looking down at her.

Veryl cursed himself and with the same breath, couldn't help but admire her body, her form, how beautiful she was. Even as she cried underneath him, he cherished this sight. He used one hand to hold both of hers down and slipped his other up her skirts, nails getting caught on the stockings she wore. Impatiently, he ripped them away and braced himself. He could feel the need of it burning in him, like the sun itself.

"Stop struggling." He was almost begging her. "Please, stop...I'm trying to be careful, I'm trying, but I can't stop, so please, just stop struggling. I'll be careful, just..." he was holding one leg still by bracing his knee against it, the only by digging his hand into her soft thigh. He smelled more blood, knew he had went through her skin. "Stop moving!" He roared at her, and she stilled.

He calmed himself as much as he could before he kept going. He pushed her skirts up to look at her, bared to him, her skirts pushed to her waist and her bodice gone, her silver hair spread under her. Her breasts were heaving with each deep breath, which only made him hunger for her more. He nibbled on her throat, pressing himself against her, pinning her to the ground, and slipped into her folds. She let out a little mewling sound and he pressed further, then froze. Gods, what a mess.

"You've never..." He muttered. "You should have run. I swear, I will make it as gentle as I can, okay? Just stay still." He was whispering to her softly as he invaded her. Her lips trembled as he slipped a second finger into her, stretching her opening to make it easier. Her hips moved, her back arched and he took the invitation to press in even deeper. She writhed under him, frost spreading under them as his flames roared in his ears. Ice and fire, their magic clashed together and battled; he knew he'd come out the victor. She was too gentle, unwilling to harm him.

She cried out as he broke her barrier and the ice broke apart underneath her, and she collapsed, breathing hard. He slipped another finger into her and stroked her, inside and out.

Veryl knew he was using her, both her mind and body. He was safe in the knowledge that regardless of how powerful she was, she'd not use a drop of magic against him, too frightened of doing permanent harm, and in a physical contest, she'd lose every time.

"It's too hot..." She moaned, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, sweet. It's going to get hotter." He pulled his pants loose and held her down as he put himself in position. He kissed her, tongue delving in to tease hers as he plunged his cock into her sex. She screamed against his mouth and he took it in, letting her cry. In a perverse way, it satisfied him, the knowledge that no other man had ever touched her, and his mark was branded into her, quite literally, dug into her hand. He smelled blood and the cool scent of snow; he broke from her lips to look around. Snowflakes were falling from the ceiling.

He moved within her, gently at first, then faster. She moved with him, almost instinctual, despite herself, she met him stroke for stroke. He slipped his hand under her head and lifted her, then another under her hips to let him dive even deeper into her moist folds. Uncaring for her pleasure, or that she was not ready for such treatment, he strived to reach every part of her. She pushed at him, whined, whimpered and begged, but he'd not let go.

The more she fought, the more he was losing hold of what little sanity he had left. He rolled, pulling her on top of him, and held her hips still.

"Stop fighting...look, you're there..." He caught the hand aimed at his face and they struggled. "Stop!" He snarled, and her head fell to his chest, her hair spread over him. He lay there, panting, and ever so slightly, he shifted. She dug her nails into his shoulder.

After a few minutes of struggling with himself, he relaxed, although one part of him remained rock hard. She took the initiative, slowly, but realized with her atop him, she could take over their encounter. She shifted forward and rocked on top of him, panting harshly. He cupped her breasts in both hands, in bliss as he passed his thumbs over her areolas and nipples, and they hardened under his fingers. She tilted her head back, eyes half closed, her moans filling the room. Her skirt fell around her hips and hid the sight of their joining; he found that he didn't mind. The feeling of her riding him was enough, her breasts bouncing lightly, her hair lit by the fire that surrounded him, her eyes dull and glassy as she bit her lip. Her pale lashes closed against her flushed cheeks as he felt her clench around him, giving in to her completion, and she collapsed against him. He stroked her head, smoothing her hair and whispering nonsense.

He moved in her, and she gasped. He wouldn't let her go, not until he'd achieved what he wanted, his own domination of her, his scent on her, his touch everywhere. He kissed her temple and she pushed herself up and as he thrust into her, and he claimed her lips again, moaning against her softness.

He came as she did, and bit his lip as his hips pushed his cock as deep as it could go, filling her completely. She lay on top of him and as the magic slipped away from him, he felt the heat finally dissolve into liquid warmth, pooling around him, lulling him. His head dropped back as his eyes shut, almost without his knowledge. He felt himself falling away, falling into sleep, helpless against its call.