Three Demons

My eyebrows knotted together in confusion as he pulled away from my neck and set me down, backing away a few feet. "What do you mean?" I queried.

"I meant exactly what I said," he responded, unhelpful.

My impatience was mounting. He was mocking me, wasn't he? Of course I was human, there wasn't anything else I could be; I would've realized by now if I wasn't. Then why did he seem so sure? His tone is cool and calm, his demeanor careful and serious. "Explain," I demanded.

"First," he replied almost immediately, "let me put some clothes on. I feel awfully vulnerable," his mouth was set in a straight line but his eyes twinkled with playfulness. I became aware once more of his nudity. I looked at my shoes, turning away slightly in an effort to give him privacy. Though I couldn't help but steal a glance at his hardware. Bronze shaft, pink head; long, considerable girth. My cheeks heated and I heard him chuckle. My eyes shot to his face to see his gaze on me, mouth split into a toothy grin, canines protruding and all. "Don't be shy," he said, "I like having your attention."

I saw his arm move and focused my attention on his hand, which found its way to his cock. He lightly grasped it and gave it a teasing stroke. My thighs instinctively squished together, as though that would help tame the sudden heat brewing between them. I watched, fixated, my cheeks aflame as he continued to slowly jerk it. I could actually feel the dampness spreading until it began dribbling down my thighs. In a soft, deceptively breathy voice he said, "There's that sweet smell again."

My breathing came in shuddering pants and I could feel my knees weakening. Needing an excuse to gain the strength to resist his charms, I remembered what I wanted. With a sudden steel resolve I asked, "Weren't you going to get dressed?".

He bit his lip and smiled bittersweetly at me, his hand dropping to his side. "Thank you for reminding me," he replied, almost resentfully, "I nearly forgot." He turned and I practically winced at how defined his body was. A taut back with obvious disparity between the width of his shoulders and waist. I could see every muscle move under his skin as he walked. His rear was bronzed, like the rest of his skin, and delightfully dimpled with no tan lines in sight. I slid down the wall into a pool on the floor. In my head, images bombarded me into oblivion. Things I might've seen in dreams started flashing before my eyes. I saw the shadowy fingers swirling around me and heard Everett's voice repeating the words, "You know," over and over until the voice speaking no longer sounded like his own but rather ancient... And, familiar...

Everett was back before I could even begin to place the voice or analyze what seemed to be memories; he was wearing a black gym shirt, gray drop-crotch sweats that were tight at the ankles, and a pair of Chucks. His walk was jaunty as he approached. "Back," he casually noted. He seemed to be all business now, paying special attention to the murals. "Do you understand them?" he asked, pointing to the painted walls.

"Yes," I said. Standing up almost lethargically.

"The woman is the moon," he stated, quizzing me.

"Yes..."

"You knew that, right?"

"Maybe a quick walk through wouldn't be a bad idea," I admitted.

He smiled and shook his head. "Have you ever studied astronomy?"

"Not in depth," I replied.

"No one has studied it in depth, considering how little anyone on the Earth understands about the cosmos," he said with a tinge of irritation, as if this was some fault of humankind. "The planets contain what you would technically call aliens, UFOs, extraterrestrials - the list goes on. But the way the primitives thought of them was more accurate in ways that are fundamental to understanding them. The primitives thought of them as deities and worshipped them."

"The primitives?" I asked, seeking clarification.

"Early humans," he explained.

"Why was their depiction more accurate?"

"I didn't say it was more accurate, just that their way of thinking made the concept easier to understand," he clarified.

We were both quiet for sometime; he was crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows as if in endless deliberation. After the pause morphed into an awkward silence I said, "I'm still confused."

He licked his lip and exhaled. "They are not small green aliens with big black eyes looking to probe humans. They have human form; some of us more humanoid than others, some of us less humanoid than others. And we all come from a different plane of existence. Some of us can wander through time and dimensions and galaxies while others are stuck. I'm stuck. Oliver and Erik are stuck. Here. On Earth. Aetheria, is the woman depicted in these murals, and she's stuck on the moon. But, it wasn't always that way. Aetheria is royalty to my kind. You see, I come from a long line of lycanthropes. She came from an ancient line of dragos. The dragos have been the rulers of my kind since the Great Conflict in the Third Era when each race battled for succession," he paused, looking at me for some confirmation that I could understand what he'd laid out for me thus far. Once I nodded he continued, "In science, humans have found that energy can be neither created nor destroyed, only transferred. In the dragos species, power is transferred in the same way that energy is transferred, but it is stored in their hearts. Their hearts are not made of flesh like yours or mine. If they were, the ever growing energy stored within them would cause the heart to burst and kill the dragos that hosted it. Their hearts resemble a red gem, warm to the touch and pulsing with light. Because dragos were a species that evolved from dragons and dragons from reptiles, and so on, they developed an odd means of guaranteeing the survival of their species. The dragos cannot die until their hearts are transferred to their offspring."

"But a single parent can only have one heart, right?" I asked.

"Correct," he affirmed.

"What if a dragos pair has more than two children?" I asked.

"The children that do not receive their parents' hearts will live out the course of an average lifespan and die naturally instead of existing for millennia like the dragos usually do," he replied.

"So Aetheria has one of her parents' hearts then?"

"She has both their hearts," he replied.

"Dragos can absorb more than one heart?"

"Yes," he began, "technically. But only if they already have a heart. It's impossible to consume both at once. It would be fatal." I nodded in understanding, my eyes encouraging him to continue. He sighed and wiped his face with his hand in a gesture of great exhaustion. "This is a lot for you to take in at once. Don't you think it would be better if we stopped here and continued this discussion some other time? Perhaps tomorrow?"

"But," I began, "what you've told me hasn't explained anything from the murals!"

He sighed with irritation and his eyes flickered like flames. He exhaled and I could visibly see the effort it took for him to contain himself. "Tomorrow."

My eyebrows knit together in my heightening frustration. "You just told me I'm not human. The only explanation I got was pale face's backstory!" I shouted.

He huffed, the gesture befitting steam rolling out of his nostrils. His body trembled with anger. "Freya, cut it out," he warned.

I didn't know what was wrong with me, but my fury fed off of his and I suddenly shoved at his chest with all the frustration that had been brewing in my mind and in my soul. Perhaps it was the realization that I was right all along, that I was a freak. Hell, that I wasn't even human. That the only decent men who found me attractive had to be from a different dimension. That my whole life was a lie. So I placed my palms firmly on his chest, nails digging into the thin fabric of his shirt, and shoved as hard as I could. He didn't move an inch, but instead grabbed my wrists in a painful vice grip and pinned them above my head against the wall. "What the fuck is your problem?" I cried, "Why won't you tell me?"

"Because I can't think straight when I can smell you wanting me!" he yelled back, using one hand to keep my wrists pinned while the other strayed down to cup me between the legs. I gasped and jumped at his touch, as he rubbed his palm against the flimsily protected treasures that lay there.

"All I want," he began, his breathing coming in harsh pants, "is you. All I've ever wanted is you. I searched for you for so long but he kept you so well hidden. And when I finally found you, you didn't even know who you were. Or, what you were. Then, on a hunt, I saw you walking in the woods. You were so beautiful," he leaned in against my neck and smelled my hair before rubbing his face against the crook of my neck, stimulating all the sensitive nerve endings there, "They told me to wait," he continued, "that you weren't ready. That you'd need to be protected from afar. That a normal human's life might be the best thing for you. But I couldn't keep away. You're my drug, Freya. And, I'm an addict who's seeking a high only you can offer me. Your taste is something I can never forget. And no matter how much I deny myself," he trailed his lips along my collar bone, smelling my skin, tasting the sweat beading from anticipation, "You have a way of pulling me back in," he shuddered against me. "And, it makes me angry," he whispered, lips against my ear, "when I'm not inside you."

The speech left me utterly confused, but the logic and understanding of the beginning and middle became secondary and dismissible to the meaning behind the last sentence. I couldn't hide the fact that I wanted him, a fact made more apparent as my legs turned to jelly. I squirmed as he held me up with his hand on my wrists. He started to push his palm against my crotch, watching me intently in the darkness with his golden eyes. Only the moon pouring in through the glass ceiling and the green-lit lantern on the stone floor provided light. I looked up at him with as smoldering a look as I could manage, demanding, "Take me somewhere."

"I'd take you on the floor," he chuckled, gingerly withdrawing the hand that'd been providing me with so much teasing pleasure. "But you need to know everything if you want me to continue."

At this rate I knew we'd get no where. We were both high on sexual tension. I doubted he'd be able to explain properly if my scent was as distracting as he claimed. A part of me wasn't sure how I felt about the scenario. I was shocked by everything I heard, but alarmingly calm and taking things in as though they were nothing. Everett a werewolf, me inhuman, suddenly aliens exist and they're trapped on the moon. Perhaps a part of me always knew the gist of these things. A normal person would be angry and confused upon learning everything that'd been disclosed to me and, though they mattered, having Everett touch me the way I wanted to be touched was more important.

I softly reached my hand to his neck and pulled him closer to me. When our faces were only inches apart, to the point of our lips almost touching, I whispered, "I want to know everything."

He watched me closely, eyes squinting with suspicion, "Do you?"

"Yes," I breathed immediately, "Everything." I shifted my hand from his neck to hold his jaw, encouraging him to lean further into me and completely expunge the distance between our lips. My fingers rubbed back and forth on his skin, feeling the excellent texture of stubble that always donned his face. "I want everything you can offer me," I continued, hoping my flirtation would have some effect. "I promise I can take it," I said, with a sly smile.

His chest rose and fell dramatically as he tried to control the increasing rate at which he was breathing. "You're quite the succubus," he laughed, "Using a double entendre to excite me."

"It's the best I can do when my body has little to no affect," I replied, my grin widening.

"That's a lie," he laughed.

"Oh, you think so?" I asked, happy he'd played right into my trap, "How about you prove it?"

At that he bit his lip, his eyes asserting and studying me for difficulty, like I was prey. "We're sailing in dangerous waters here," he warned.

I gripped the collar of his shirt then, impatiently, "Where's your sense of adventure?" I challenged, and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was soft and slow at first, proving I'd taken him by surprise, but he quickly caught up to the chase and soon our tongues were battling out our frustration. He felt massive against me, his form nearly twice the size of my own. I felt small and fragile around him, when I'd never felt that way around anyone else given my healthy size. The craning of his neck and the fact that he had to hunch down to kiss me, filled me with childish glee. Though apparently, I wasn't accessible enough to him with our current height difference. His large, calloused hands gripped at my hips and pushed me up the wall before he grabbed under my knees and forced my legs to wrap around his waist. His hands then traveled up the outside of my thighs to grab my ass and squeeze. I moaned in his mouth at the pleasure that gave me as he started to push his rigid abdomen against my pelvis.

He started moving as he carried me, walking toward some unknown place - perhaps where he'd gone when he'd changed into the clothes he was now wearing. The trickling of the fountain in the great room became fainter and suddenly we crashed into a door, his lips breaking away from mine to suckle and nip my neck. "Oh, fuck me!" I exclaimed, shivering with each pleasurable peck on my skin as he bit his way down to my collar bone.

"Don't tempt me," he breathed. His right hand withdrew from my side to twist the doorknob. The door gave way and he took three large steps forward before throwing me onto something soft. I fell with a giggle and looked around, noting the comforter I laid on and the bed posts surrounding me which supported a large canopy. I twisted onto my stomach and crawled to the head frame where a small collection of pillows lay.

I head the door shut and the lock click. I turned my head to look at him. Kicking off his Chucks by the door, he slid his shirt up and over his head as he walked to the foot of the bed. His muscles tightened and flexed as he undressed, giving a small grunt as he threw the shirt aside. "Your turn," he cooed, his mouth widening into a ferocious grin. He grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me toward him. His fingers quickly found and undid the button and zipper of my jeans, pulled off my gloves, hat, scarf, jacket, and boots. "You overdressed," he tutted, as he flipped me back onto my stomach and started to pull my jeans down.

"Well some of us have a clear perception of the cold," I retorted. He groaned quietly when I arched my back at the exact moment he tugged my jeans down, which in turn made my ass shimmy and exhibit its greatest qualities. He swatted a cheek with his hand and I moaned just as my body instinctively jerked away from him. He roughly grabbed at my hips and tugged them back, enough to get me on my knees, before planting his face right between my cheeks. His hot breath hit the damp patch at the crotch of my panties and I shivered as I felt his tongue slide against my barely protected folds.

I heard him chuckle as his finger slid my panties aside and the resounding silence as he exposed my most intimate parts almost embarrassed me. I started to squirm under the influence of my dying confidence, but was invigorated when he slid a finger inside me. "Fuck, you're so tight," he murmured. I smiled and bit my lip in response, my approval toward his comment radiating.

He withdrew his finger and started to pull my panties down and off my legs. I felt shuffling on the bed and suddenly I felt him against my opening. I felt him push his cock downward and trap it against his hand. He began rocking against me and his cock slid between my lips, bumping at my clit. I puckered my mouth and exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. His cock felt awfully long and thick when it rubbed against my clit like that. He did it again and a weird shock pulsed through my body, eliciting a moan from my mouth.

He shifted behind me again, continuing to rock and rub his cock against my clit, but his free hand had other ideas. He slid a finger inside me steadily thrusting it in time with the rocking of his hips. In the silence, there was only our breathing - mine coming harsher than his - and a wet, sloshing sound as his finger fucked my seeping, wet hole. I wriggled my hips against him, occasionally whimpering. He slid in a second finger. "Fuck," I whispered under my breath. "Please, Everett, I want it," I begged, my voice breaking as his fingers picked up the pace.

"Want what?" he asked gruffly. I simply moaned and started trembling, my back arching, my arms losing the strength to hold my torso in place. He let his cock fall away from my lips, instead focusing on movements of his fingers. "What is it that you want, Freya?" he asked again, his voice booming with an authority that demanded an answer. I stayed silent, my eyes rolling back as a whimper escaped my lips. I winced when his hand struck my ass hard enough to make it sting.

"Your cock!" I cried out, rocking back and forth on my knees slightly, pressing my thighs together in a delicious squirm. Despite the slight pain, I was enjoying myself immensely.

"Then you shall have it," he promised. I could hear the smile in his voice. He slid his fingers out of me, the squelching sound ensuring that they were coated in my desire. More tantalizing was the sound of the wetness as he coated his cock with it, followed by the head of it making contact with the opening of my cunt. Once he'd positioned himself appropriately, he grasped my hips and slowly pushed his pelvis forward, a panicked gasp escaped his lips in the process. I moaned as his cock stretched my hole to his size, while he continued to slowly push forward. My hips jerked forward in an attempt to escape the nearly uncomfortable pressure of the entire act, but he was having none of it. He gripped my hip with one of his hands and tugged me back so that the entire length of him went inside of me. I winced, a whimper that turned into a shallow moan escaped my lips. "Like the feel of that, do you?" he taunted, his voice in my ear, his breath at my jaw.

One of his hands wrapped around my waist to keep me in place, while the other grasped my breasts. He massaged my tits briefly as he began to fuck me at an unbearably slow pace. The hand on my breasts made its way up to grasp at my shoulder for better leverage as he picked up the pace to about one thrust per second. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I let my fingertips explore any part of him, or me, that they could touch. First I felt his hand on my waist; it was strong and boney. I felt the coolness of the metal ring on his pinky finger and the jutting of his knuckles as he gripped me tightly. His rhythm was deliberate, his movements just a tad confined, as though he was still controlling himself. I tried to keep quiet, not that there was a reason for it. He was quiet himself, though I paid special attention to his breathing. He was panting, the steady rate of it paused as he occasionally swallowed. My fingers then focused on his forearm which would flex with each movement he made.

Then I felt an odd pang within my pelvis, though he hadn't changed a thing in his deliverance. I cried out, my hand clasping around his arm in a vice grip. Another thrust and I felt it again. My fingernails dug into his skin in reaction to the alien feeling. He continued to do it and the sensation didn't stop. "Everett," I said, my eyes closed and my head fell back to rest against his shoulder. My free hand slid down his side to caress the outer thigh. Every part of him was tough as steel and perfectly defined. He picked up the pace to twice his current speed, my eyes popping open and my mouth wide as a result. "Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed.