So, the idea for this hit me one day at work, and I just had to write it down. It started as a oneshot and I wasn't even planning on posting it until my dear friend SangNoire insisted that I do.

WARNING: This is incredibly smutty and incredibly detailed. If your tender sensibilities can't handle it, I suggest you leave now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

He sat crouched on a rooftop, watching the cars roll meekly by. That terrible, wrenching urge was twisting deep in the pit of his stomach, filling him with the fires of both hunger and lust. He was deep within the grasp of mæccea, or the drive to mate with another; humans would call it a "heat." It had been over 150 years since he'd last surfaced into the mortal realm; taking care of his young master had eaten up the majority of that time. The little earl had noticed recently that his faithful butler had been distracted and on edge. He'd pulled the older demon aside for an explanation that every evening.

"Sebastian, what is the matter with you? You haven't been yourself lately, and it's starting to annoy me."

"Forgive me, master. It has been a while since I've eaten, and the drive to mate has gotten stronger. It makes it…difficult to concentrate. I apologize."

"Hmph. Sounds like you need some time away to slake your hunger. I think one year ought to do."

"But Master-"

"I can take care of myself for that short amount of time at least, can't I? And if I do need you, I can summon you in an instant." The boy had traced one black-nailed finger under the eye that still held the seal of their contract. "Now, off with you." Sebastian had smiled and knelt before his master, placing his hand over his heart as a sign of respect.

"Yes, my lord."

Now he was here, in a small, suburban town, searching for humans to use and consume. He preferred smaller towns to big cities when hunting for prey; the rush and overcrowding gave the poor souls a bitter flavor that he found rather unpleasant.

Suddenly, with a twist of his insides, he picked up a scent that inflamed his hunger. He followed the seductive aroma, leaping noiselessly from rooftop to rooftop, before he found its source. It was a young woman walking alone beside the vacant street, huddled against the cold inside a blood-red coat. She wore strange clothing, more suitable for a man than a young lady. He took a deeper sample of her scent, and a ripple of desire shuddered through him. She smelled of humans, of course, but she also carried the unmistakable smell of a demoness. And not just that; a demoness gripped by mæccea.

His body felt as if it were on fire; the erotic fragrance called to him, drew him toward her. He looked at her, studied her closely, and as she raked her fingers through her long, wavy chestnut hair, he saw that she indeed had black fingernails, one of the physical marks of a demon. He gave a most uncharacteristic gasp, his lust barely controllable now. Her body, the little of it that he could see, called to him. Her scent sang to him, making promises of the many sinful, delicious things he could do to her. He still craved a soul, but at the moment, that hunger had been completely overshadowed by mæccea. Everything else but her was erased from his mind, and he knew that for the year that he remained on earth, he would have none but her. His mouth watered at the thought of taking her into his bed whenever he wished, of sating himself with her every night. He groaned, his eyes glowing; he could restrain himself no longer.

With a graceful yet predatory leap, he launched himself off of the rooftop and onto the sidewalk in front of her, landing soundlessly on his feet. She gave a short scream, stopping in her tracks. He was momentarily floored by the gentle beauty of her frightened expression, but then his paralysis broke and he stalked forward, a dangerous smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"Well, hello, little one…what's a pretty young thing like you doing out after dark?"

She sounded terrified. "I-I was just walking home…" She swallowed hard. "Wh-Who are you?"

Suddenly he was behind her, catching her arms and holding them by her sides. "I've had many names…but you can call me Sebastian."

She whimpered, a broken sound that he immediately adored. "Let me go."

"Why are you so frightened, little one? Your body wants this; I could smell it a block away." She was trembling now; such a human thing to do. The little temptress had obviously been topside long enough to pick up on mortal traits. He trapped her wrists in one long hand and swept her hair over her shoulder, watching as her slender, delicate neck came into the weak, silver light. There was something that lay against her skin; a string of black beads that fell down her chest and disappeared between her full breasts. He looked at the familiar and detestable placement of the beads along the chain, shock numbing his body.

"A rosary?"

He pulled on the chain, yanking the crucifix that dangled from the end into view. He winced at the sting the holy object left on his skin, but gripped it hard and pulled until it tightened around her neck.

"What are you? I can't detect the reek of an angel on you, so are you human or demon? Speak now, love, or I'll be forced to extract the information myself."

She choked. "H-Human…"

He nodded, then gave the necklace a sharp tug, breaking the chain and letting the damaged rosary fall to the ground, kicking the crucifix into the gutter. He held her to him, his chest pressed against her back, unnaturally still for a long, long moment. Then, he slowly leaned in and pressed the thin blade of his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply. Goosebumps broke out on her skin as his breath washed over her. "Ah…I smell it now. The essence of a human soul…so you're indeed mortal." Oh well. Human or demon, it made no difference to him; he would just have to be a bit more careful with her. Humans were so fragile, and she appeared to be no different. He took another long sniff, and she felt her heart burning in her mouth as his lips curved into a smirk. "There's a freshness to it…a rare purity that I haven't sampled in centuries." His tone lowered to a sensual murmur. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Silence. Stillness. Then a slight nod. He smiled; how irresistibly charming. Even before he'd sealed the contract with Lord Phantomhive, it had been at least a century since he'd taken a woman's virginity. Untouched women had always been rare, and although he enjoyed bedding a pure soul, after a while he'd simply grown too hungry to care. But now…he was overtaken with the need to consume, defile, to mark her body and stain her innocence. He slid a hand around her throat, tipping her head back.

"I suppose since you're a virgin, I'll be gentle with you…for now." He pressed his lips to her throat in a soft, spine-tingling kiss. "I thought about taking you right here, but a fine young woman like you deserves to be made love to on a warm bed." He released all of her but one hand, grasping it firmly. "Lead the way home, my sweet. And should any thoughts of escape or defiance arise, I'd advise you not to act on them." He squeezed her hand harshly, making her gasp. "I won't kill you, but I can make it so you'd pray for death. It would be a shame to ruin that pretty face…but I will if I have to. Am I clear?"

She nodded, pressing her lips together. He stepped off in the direction she'd been heading, leading her to walk beside him. As they strode along the broken sidewalk, he let his thumb stroke across the back of her hand and over the inside of her wrist, loving the way her tiny teeth bit at her lip to hold in a sigh of arousal. Despite it having been several centuries since he'd been with a woman, he still knew quite well how to seduce, knew where all their sensitive spots were and how to manipulate them to achieve maximum pleasure. He was quite fond of teasing, of sweetly torturing his partner until she begged for release. He smirked at how much he was going to enjoy playing with her.

Within a few minutes, they reached a shabby-looking row of apartments. His nose wrinkled in distaste; this wasn't quite what he was used to, being accustomed to the grandeur of the Phantomhive manor and of his own residence below. She nervously dug out a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked a door with the number "102" on it, leading him inside a living room that smelled like incense and cats. He sighed happily, wanting very much to pet the beautiful creature that he knew must be lurking nearby, but his need was quickly becoming too much for him to control.

As she pushed the door shut, he reached around her and snapped the lock in place, sealing them both inside even if she popped the deadbolt. She seemed fairly docile, but with humans one could never tell. As the bolt latched in place, he spun her around and slammed her up against the door, pressing her back into the cold wood. He leaned into her, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head, twining his fingers between hers. "Now, my beauty…will you tell me your name?"

A small sob was his only response. He moved closer, his lips only a fraction of an inch away from hers. "Now, I know I haven't been to this world in quite some time, but isn't it just good manners to know your lover's name?" He nuzzled her throat with his nose, letting his breath wash lightly over her skin. "Please tell me…"

She gasped. "I-I'm not your…lover…"

"But you will be soon enough. Don't be afraid, my pretty one. I won't hurt you…in fact, I think you'll enjoy it."

There was silence. Then, "Lyra…"

"Lyra." He smiled. "Lovely. Rather musical, don't you think?" He pressed his body against hers, moving a knee between her legs and wedging himself between them. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lyra," he purred.

With that, he moved up and brushed his lips against hers, groaning lightly at the softness no petal could equal. He gathered both of her wrists together, wrapping his long fingers around them, and gently cupped her face in his free hand, tipping her head back to get a better angle. Her eyes were closed, and she stood unresponsive; it was like kissing a living statue. He smirked and lightly brushed his tongue against her lips, trying to open them. To his amusement, she pressed her lips together and shook her head violently, denying him access. He pulled back a little, chuckling darkly. "Now now, little one, let's not be difficult, hm? Part those beautiful blushing pilgrims for me…"

She shook her head again, causing his smirk to widen. If she would not grant him entrance of her own free will, then he could simply make her. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?" He gripped the tab of her jacket's zipper and pulled it down, opening the blood-red material. It both shocked and thrilled him to see that under another lighter jacket, she had a lacy black shirt on, held up by two impossibly thin straps and showing off quite a bit of her ample bosom. Was this truly how young women were expected to dress these days? The only ladies he'd ever known to dress like this were prostitutes, and she was obviously not, being a virgin and all.

He decided it didn't matter, that he didn't particularly mind seeing as much of her soft, creamy skin as possible. He took his hand from her face and slid it under her shirt, running one cold fingertip lightly down her side. She let out a gasp, and he took this opportunity to slip his tongue past her parted lips, curving his hand in her waist. He groaned quietly into the kiss, ignoring her struggles and swallowing her revolted cries. It had been far too long since he'd felt anything so warm and so soft as her skin. His long, slippery tongue slowly curled around hers, and he gave a quiet chuckle as the soft muscle shrank back from him. She tasted exquisite; warm and rich, with a hint of something sugary. Quite a lovely flavor indeed, like a dark, sweet fruit.

He drew back, smiling softly at the sound of her relieved gasp. Her eyes were drawn to his as he licked his lips, savoring her taste. He sighed softly, his breath like a whisper of silk against her lips. "Do I kiss by the book, my lady?"

One tear slipped from her eye. "Please…stop."

He leaned in to kiss away the traitorous droplet. "Now, now, no tears, my lady. It's unbecoming." With that, he bent and gathered her in his arms, like a groom cradling his new bride. He saw the open doorway at the other end of the room and nodded. "The bedroom is that way, I presume?"

At the word "bedroom," her eyes grew impossibly wide and fearful. "No…no, please! Don't!" She began struggling in his arms, kicking and flailing. He smiled to himself; the way she thrashed against him was only inflaming his desires. It was a promise of how he would make her writhe and squirm with pleasure, the ways he could twist that lithe, supple body around him. He carried her into the bedroom, pleasantly surprised to see that she at least had a decent-sized bed. He laid her down on to the soft sheets, climbing on top of her. He smirked and stroked her cheek.

"Feel free to cry out, Lyra. I've placed a special seal on your home, so no matter how loudly you scream, you won't disturb anyone. No one will be able to hear you." He leaned closer to her as the despair clouded her bright golden-green eyes. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered. "By the end of this night, I will claim you as mine. You will belong to me, and only me."

She sobbed. "Who…what are you?"

He smirked. "You haven't guessed?" He traced her lips with his finger. "Well, my dear," he purred, showing his teeth in a wicked smile as his eyes began to glow, the pupil's slitted and evil, "I am simply one hell of a lover."

She was paralyzed with fear, unable to speak. His eyes, his terrible glowing eyes that pulsed with a malevolent, hellish gleam; they told of darkness and despair, of an unspeakable evil. She knew that he wasn't of this world, remembered how he had torn her rosary from her neck and felt her heart break at the realization that she was now trapped, captured by hellborn eyes with no means of escape.

"Oh, God…"

He laughed softly. "Not even close, my lady." He leaned down to sniff lightly at her hair, sighing at the clean, warm scent. "God is not here, love. He's abandoned you, his beloved child…and He let you fall from grace and into my arms." He brought his lips to hers in a hard kiss, his tongue a ruthless invader. She squirmed and pushed against his shoulders, but her attempts were fruitless. Finally, he released her with a sigh, rolling his blood-red eyes. "As much as I adore that fire in your blood, the struggling is becoming rather tiresome. I will have to ask you to lie still." His stare grew so intense that she swore she could feel the heat of it on her face. "I can make this hurt if you continue to fight me. It is in your best interest to cooperate…now, will you?"

She bit her lip and nodded, bringing her hands down to either side of her head, turning away in a submissive gesture. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her neck.

"Good girl."

Let the games begin.

He pressed gentle kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, enjoying the cashmere softness of her skin. Her heart was fluttering like a frightened bird in his ear, and he smiled as he planted an open-mouthed kiss directly above the pounding muscle. She squirmed as his hands worked their way under her shirt again. His fingers were so cold as the stroked her flat stomach, but his lips were warm, leaving spots of heat across her skin. She wanted to scream and cry and beg, anything to save herself from this…but it was all useless, and would only irritate him into hurting her. She pressed her lips together, determined not to make a single sound. She knew what he was planning to do, and she would not give in; she refused to cry out in pleasure, she would not moan for him.

He pressed his lips to the V of her cleavage, then with a small growl, he yanked at the neckline of her shirt. There was the brief, harsh purr of ripping fabric, and then she lay beneath him, wearing nothing but her bra from the waist up. She blushed, but closed her eyes and turned her face away, making no sound. His hands slid underneath her back, long fingers working at the clasp until he unhooked it, pulling the fabric contraption away. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her breasts from his view, and he smiled down at her. "Don't be shy, my lady." He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms away, pinning them down by her head and drinking in the sight of her exposed breasts. "You look…ravishing."

He lowered his head with a smirk and closed his lips over one nipple in a gentle kiss. She locked her jaw, refusing to gasp even as his tongue-oh God, his tongue-brushed against it. She didn't expect such a pleasurable sensation to shoot through her, leaving liquid fire in her veins…she didn't want it to feel so good.

He let out an appreciative hum as his tongue rubbed against the soft bud, coaxing it into hardness. This had always been one of his favorite methods of teasing. The texture and taste was incredibly pleasant, and it was enough to drive a woman crazy without sending her over the edge. However, aside from the fact that she was squirming a bit, she was showing no signs of pleasure. Not even a single gasp. Stubborn little thing, aren't you? Well, never fear…I'll get a moan out of you yet. He repeated the treatment on her other nipple, swirling his tongue around it, even flicking it playfully. Still no sound, though he noticed her breathing came a little faster now. He had to give her credit; virgins were extraordinarily sensitive to his lurid kisses, so the fact that she had remained silent for this long was admirable. It truly spoke to the force of her will. He smirked into her skin. But I know how to break you, my lady. I know how to make you scream.

He kissed his way down her stomach, the fringe of his black hair falling over his face and brushing against her skin. Her heartbeat was so loud and fast that he was afraid it might burst through her chest. He smirked and dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel, reaching the waistband of her pants not long after. He raised his head, his confident crimson eyes meeting her frightened hazel ones. "Is it customary for ladies to wear men's clothing in this age? I must say, I don't particularly care for it. Much too confining…"

With that, his wicked hand crept between her legs, running slowly up her inner thigh. She bit her lip and defiantly closed her legs, squeezing them together. He smirked and clucked his tongue reproachfully. "Is that any way to behave? Open those pretty legs, my lady."

She shook her head, even finding the courage to glare at him. He laughed and forced his hands between her legs, spreading them wide with little visible effort and settling on his stomach between them. His long fingers unbuttoned her pants, pulling down the zipper, then he ripped them away, leaving her in just her panties. He smirked and planted a kiss on the triangle of fabric between her legs, laughing softly when he found that the cloth was slightly damp. "My my, you are enjoying this, aren't you?"

He tore the simple material away, leaving her completely bare to his appreciative eyes. "Lovely…" He looked up at her, noticed how fast her chest rose and fell, how hard her teeth were clamped on her lips, and smirked. His cunning tongue slipped into her, slowly running up her soft folds to find that pleasurable little bud.

Her scream broke two octaves.

He smiled triumphantly and licked her again, swirling his tongue around the little hill. Her legs trembled as pleasure coursed through her, waves slamming into her with every stroke of his tongue.

He groaned, drinking in her taste that nothing in the entire world could compare to. It really was gratifying, how little he had to do to make her scream. She had been so determined not to make a sound, and yet with one simple lick, she had cried out in a loud, wanton voice that he found simply too delicious. It spoke to his pride and his ego; centuries of practice had made him a truly excellent lover.

It was as if her mind and body had been disconnected; the former was screaming at her to get away, to fight him off and run, while the latter was filled with pleasure, forcing her to stay right where she was. She had a feeling that even if she wanted to fight him off, he would prove too strong for her. She panted as his tongue twisted sinuously between her legs, licking a part of her she barely knew about and making her feel pleasure she never knew she could…and she hated every second of it. She didn't want her first time to be like this; she'd wanted love and trust, a pure, clean pleasure and the bliss of sharing yourself completely with someone you truly cared for. But this…

She bit her lip to stifle a sob, having made far too much noise already. Since he'd first made her scream, it seemed she hadn't been able to hold back soft sighs and moans, noises she knew would only encourage him. She didn't want him to think she liked what he was doing, but oh God, it felt so good…too good. The things he could do with his tongue were positively sinful, made her feel as wicked as he. He'd never said precisely what he was, but she knew. When he had grabbed her, she'd seen that his fingernails were black. But unlike hers, his seemed to grow that way, as naturally as her own grew clear. Also, she had seen the mark on the back of his left hand, a purple pentagram that didn't appear to be inked in or colored in any way into his hand; it seemed as though some shimmery violet substance had been embedded beneath his skin. And when his eyes had glowed that poisonous magenta, his pupils becoming malevolent slits, she knew. The man currently raping her (the word left a terrible pain in her heart) was not of this world.

He was a demon.

Her thoughts were interrupted as his lips closed around the tiny mound and he gave a hard suck, causing the hateful pleasure to spike and for another short scream to be wrenched from her throat. Now that he'd loosened her tongue, she was making all sorts of erotic sounds; sighs, moans, whimpers, and the occasional sob. It was like sweet music to his ears. He raised his head, licking his lips. "Delicious, my lady; truly a delicate little treat." He slid his hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and over her chest, stopping when his fingers reached her mouth. "Part your lips, Lyra. It will hurt less if they're wet."

She realized what he was planning to do and shook her head, grabbing his wrist and tearing his hand away from her face. "No…if you put anything in my mouth, I swear I'll bite you."

He smiled. "Oh my…still so fiery. It seems I'll have my hands full with you, young one."

With that, he brought his fingers into his own mouth, dragging his tongue up the slender digits with a devilish smirk, putting on a bit of a show for her. She bared her tiny little teeth in what he guessed was supposed to be an intimidating expression. "You're sick."

He flashed her a grin that teetered on the edge of insanity. "You don't know the half of it."

He finished wetting his fingers and settled down between her legs again. "This will be a bit uncomfortable, but you'll adjust." With that, he pushed one finger into her, kissing her inner thigh to soothe her. She groaned, twisting a little as he softly stroked her inner walls. After a moment, he added another finger, stretching her. She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Hurts…"

"I know, love, but it has to be done. You're still so innocent yet…a sweet little creature; untouched, untasted, unbroken…" He sighed. "If I don't prepare you, this will hurt quite a bit, and I want to be as gentle as possible with you."

She stared at him, hardly believing her ears. He was trying not to hurt her? It didn't seem like something a demon would do, and yet… She yelped as another finger was added, hissing through her teeth at the pain. He seemed to be spreading his fingers inside her, widening her opening.

Finally, he withdrew the intruding digits. "I think that's enough preparation, don't you?" He sat up and unbuttoned his black vest, then slowly popped the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt out of their holes, revealing a pale, smooth, and well-defined chest. Under different circumstances, she would have found him to be very attractive. But as his hands dropped to the waistband of his black pants, she suddenly knew what came next, feeling her heart burst with fear and repressing the sudden urge to vomit. She pushed herself up and curled into a defensive ball at the headboard, sobbing out the word "No!" over and over again.

He gave her a pitying smile and pulled her into his arms, embracing her gently. She pushed against his chest, screaming, "Get away from me! Don't touch me! No! Stop!"

He rolled his eyes; she was quite the little fighter. Yet, as troublesome as she was, her spirit and drive to defend herself created a stir in him that he hadn't felt in quite a while. She exhilarated him, gave his heart a thrill. Every word she spat at him, every shove or slap against his skin was as sweetly satisfying as a piece of fine chocolate.

Eventually, her strength seemed to drain away, and she slumped in his arms, trembling all over. He gently grabbed her chin and pulled her face up. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes bright with pain and anguish, her mouth trembling and drawn with defeat. She had exhausted herself, and now she had given up the fight, knowing the terrible truth that she would never escape. He produced a clean handkerchief and gently dried her face, brushing her quivering lips with his thumb. He leaned forward, pressing her back, laying her down into the pillows. He wedged his knees between her thighs, spreading her legs. She felt the warmth of bare skin against hers; where did his pants go? Something hot and hard pressed at her core, and she let out a weak sob. "No…please…I'm begging you, don't…"

He pressed a finger to her lips, hushing her. "Shhh. A proud young woman like you should never beg." He gave her slight smile. "Put your arms around my neck. I will go slowly, but it will hurt, so you can dig your nails into my back if you'd like."

She bit her lip, wanting to protest but decided against it when she saw his ruby-red eyes flash dangerously. She raised her arms and locked them around his neck. He almost laughed at how tight her hold was, like she was hanging on for dear life. He positioned himself, staring at her hungrily.

"Don't close your eyes, my lady. I want to see them as I take you."

With that, he slowly pushed inside of her, groaning at the feel of her, so deliciously soft and warm and tight, giving him pleasure that he hadn't felt in centuries. He watched her eyes darken with pain, heard her cry out, felt her nails digging into his shoulders. Her muscles were tensed in discomfort, and he leaned down to brush his lips against her ear. "It will only hurt more if you're tense… Just relax, my lady."

Slowly, her eyes full of distrust, she loosened her bunched muscles, making it less difficult for him to ease himself deeper. When he was fully seated, he grew still, watching her and waiting for her rapid heartbeat to slow and her sharp nails to detract. When he felt that she was adjusted enough, he began to rock his hips in a gentle rhythm, not too hard or too fast. He shut his eyes as they began to glow that swirling pinkish-red, grinning as her nails sank into his skin in time with his thrusts, her fingers clenching and unclenching.

He braced himself on his elbows, their chests pressed together, and looked down at her, sweeping lock of hair out of her eyes and studying her closely. She was biting her lip so hard that he could see blood welling up under her teeth. He kissed her, running his tongue across the broken skin. Though he didn't take sustenance from her blood as many believed, he enjoyed the taste immensely. There was pain in her blood, both fresh and old, and it gave the fluid a spicy flavor he found incredibly satisfying. He broke the kiss and smiled, opening his hellish eyes and thrusting deep with a sharp snap of his hips. His grin widened as he heard her gasp and the sudden spike in her heartbeat. He leaned down to kiss her neck, murmuring against her skin. "You feel so good, little one."

He ran his fingers though her silky-soft hair, kissing her throat and quickening his pace. She was quickly approaching the edge, and considering how good she felt and how long it had been for him, he would follow soon after. His stamina, though admirable, wasn't quite what it used to be. He ran his hand up the sweet curve of her calf, pulling her leg up and hitching it around his hip.

She cried out as she buried himself deeper within her, feeling a knot coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach. She had an idea of what was happening, and she wanted it as badly as she didn't want it. She hated that it felt so good, hated him for making it good, hated her body for betraying her. His pace suddenly became frantic, demanding, pushing her closer and closer toward the point of no return. To make matters worse, he bent to kiss her breasts again, his hot tongue lapping at her nipples, adding more pleasure to her poor, overwhelmed nerves. His eyes were still glowing and inhuman, revealing his true nature, and as he felt her tremble, on the brink of her first orgasm, he wrapped one hand around her slender throat and squeezed, not too tightly but enough to get her attention.

"When you climax, say my name. I want to hear you scream it."

She shook her head, defiant to the last, and he tightened his grip on her throat, giving a sharp thrust. She cried out as he bared his teeth, hissing, "Say it!"

She choked. "I d-don't remember…"

He rolled his eyes and whispered his name in her ear, easing his grip a little. "Say it, my lady…"

He snapped his hips once, twice, three more times before he felt her convulse and tighten, clamping down on him. Her face contorted, her hair spread out like a fan as she tossed her head back and forth. "A-Ah! Ah! Sebastian!"

At the sound of his name being torn from her lips, he came hard within her, latching his teeth onto her shoulder with a short cry. His self control was normally immaculate, but this young woman had made quite a dent in it.

When he was finished, he rolled off to the side, pulling her against his chest. She was crying again, her tears quiet and broken. He wasn't exhausted yet and wouldn't be for quite some time, but he didn't want to over-exert the poor girl, and she had already used up most of her strength trying to fight him. He smiled and reached down, pulling a worn comforter over them. "Go to sleep, my lady."

She curled up on his chest, muttering sleepily, "I hate you."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "I know you do, Lyra…I know."

Just before she slipped completely into the blissful darkness of sleep, he took her right hand in his and kissed her palm, muttering one word against her skin.

"Scylcen."

Immediately, his mark became etched on her skin, glowing a sinful, poisonous red. He smirked, the deed sealed with a kiss, and closed his eyes, letting them return to their more natural color. Demons rarely slept, but he closed his eyes and rested regardless. Answers to the questions he had about her would come tomorrow, and he found that he couldn't wait to learn more about this exquisite young woman. He smirked and ran his hand down her back.

"Sweet dreams, my lady."

*hides in the Box of Shame* This is what goes through my head when I'm bored... Please review!