APOV

A few hours later, Al began to stir. He found himself in the same, humiliating position huddled against Rachel's chest. Her arms were still draped across his shoulders, fingers still embedded in his hair. His eyes felt dry and gritty and the impact hit him of exactly how pathetic and just plain un-demon-like his behaviour had been. Begging her to stay with him? Asking her not to regret what they'd done together? What kind of demon are you?

Very slowly, Al shifted under Rachel's embrace, disentangling himself carefully so he didn't wake her. His hands slid slowly over her stomach as he pulled away, savouring the sensation of her smooth skin under his hands. In the darkness, a flash of the morning's events hit him. Watching her body writhe under him as he pushed himself into her, her flame-like hair spilling out like a red halo over her head, her face slack with need and her filthy words she whispered to him as he thrust behind her.

Al shivered. The image was seared into his retinas, his brain forever. He'd never get it out of his head, nor the feeling of her body, slick with sweat sliding against him. He felt himself stirring below, his breath coming in as a shuttering gasp. He had to get away from this witch before he took her again. She may have accepted him, comforted him, but women were temperamental things, especially this one.

With the evidence of his desire still rising to attention, Al pulled himself out of bed. He could hear her soft breathing in the darkness of his room, smell her scent of redwood and female mingling with his. He smiled softly to himself, one of those private smiles that no one saw. A genuine smile that brought warmth to his normally cool features. This was something he wanted to get used to.

With a simple thought, Al jumped a line, transporting himself from his bedroom to his kitchen, making sure to materialize with clothes on in case the runt was about. Sure enough, the annoying pest was standing beside the counter pulling together Al's normal breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast and tea. At first, Al frowned, not feeling like dealing with the silly witch at that time, but then he thought of something wicked and it turned the edges of his lips up in a slightly cruel angle.

"We're having breakfast for two this morning," Al said loudly, his grin broadening when he saw Pierce jump at his sudden arrival. The runt gave a startled look over his shoulder and Al winked at him. "We've got company and I don't want you whinging about it or I'll have to put you in your box."

"But," Pierce stuttered, his confusion evident. He recovered quickly enough, raising an eyebrow as Al drew closer. "I take it that you brought home one of your black magic whores." He turned back to the counter and began slopping together another breakfast with expert hands. He'd have better be an expert by then, Al had beaten the process into him enough.

"I've brought someone home, yes," Al grinned, "but I don't think she'd appreciate being called a whore." He leaned his hip against the wall, watching the little pest as he moved around. He allowed his amusement to leak into his voice while he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Pierce sneered at him over his shoulder again. "If she's with you, she's a whore," he spat.

Just then, Al felt a slight pull and smiled. Rachel was awake and wanted his attention. "We'll just see about that," he mused. "Don't break anything. Our guest is awake." Then, he shifted, going from a well lit kitchen to a pitch black bedroom.

"Rachel?" he asked into the darkness. Completely unconsciously, Al summoned the light orb that cast gentle shadows across his bedroom. He found her in the bed, the blanket drawn up around her neck, sitting up with a wild and frightened look on her face. She didn't like being alone in the dark. Once she saw him, she calmed, her features going from tense to relieved in a split second. The blanket she'd used as a flimsy shield against the shadows fell to below her shoulders, hiding her perfect breasts fro his view. "I may have to tear that blanket to shreds for hiding such beauty," he mumbled absently. When she dropped her gaze and blushed furiously for him, he grinned.

"You scared me," she all but whispered. He watched as she shifted, stretching her arms and legs cautiously, face slightly scrunched as she felt every ache and pain caused by his attentions. He waited for her scorn, for her rage, for her cries of betrayal. When her eyes came up to meet his, he found nothing but tired acceptance. Something eased inside of him that he hadn't even known was clenched.

Al crossed the room slowly, still waiting for her to erupt in some furious storm at him. He drew close to her, sitting on the bed a little over a foot from her, watching her with his red eyes. He kept his face in a confident mask, his lips turned up in a small smirk. Inside he trembled. His hands itched to touch her, his lips burned to kiss her and his body ached to penetrate her. "How are you feeling, my itchy witch?" he asked, quite proud of himself when his voice didn't come out husky.

She turned to him, drawing her knees up to her chest and crossing her arm over them, resting her head on them as her green eyes studied him. Her hair was a wild mass of untamed curls, giving her that wonderful post-coital frizz that made things low in him clench tightly. "I'm a little sore," she said at last and Al stiffened, "but it's a good sore, I think."

Al couldn't suppress the soft sigh of relief that spilled from deep inside of him. He smiled very softly at her, gazing at her over the smoky spectacles that normally dawned his face. "Breakfast is awaiting our attentions, my itchy witch," he said with is deep voice. He watched her shiver for him and he fought the urge to slam her against that intricate headboard and take her again. "Have I worked up enough of an appetite, or should I try harder?"

That wicked, feminine smile brightened her face as she watched him. "You could say that." When he started moving towards her, she sat up, her hands coming up defensively and Al grinned when the blanket finally fell to expose her to him. "I meant that I'm hungry!" she cried.

With a deep chuckle, Al stood, turning his back to her and holding a hand out. He formed the thought of a thick terry cloth robe and felt the weight of it as it materialized in one hand, the other receiving some very naughty red panties and bra fringed with peek-a-boo lace. When he turned back to her, he offered them to her. She shifted, trying to keep herself covered and reached out first for the underclothes. He allowed her small hands to grasp them, then captured those delicate fingers in his much larger hands. He watched shock flash across her face and gave another low chuckle, bending at the waist to lay a very gentle kiss across the back of her hand. With a longing caress, he released her hand.

"Turn around?" she asked shyly and a full grin spread across Al's face, mischief showing in his red eyes.

"I've seen all of you, my dear itchy witch," he said with a low rumble. "This is no time to be shy." Even with that small rebuke, he turned his back to her and closed his eyes. His ears listened to the soft rustle of cloth against flesh and secretly, he was very glad he couldn't see her. The sound alone of her skin moving against the blanket and then the sexy lingerie that he'd designed specifically for her was enough to make him tremble. If he'd watched her, they'd never make it out of that bedroom.

In mere moments, she stood beside him wrapped in the robe and looking sufficiently sexy in her wild curls. Later, he'd take her to the bathroom and press her up against the wall while he "helped" her shower. Another shiver rippled through him and his gaze turned to molten lava as it gazed down her, picturing her naked under that robe though he knew she wasn't. She must have had a thought of her own because she trembled in reply.

Al couldn't help it and reached over to gather her into his arms. His breath was hot against her face as he pulled her along the taut line of his body, rocking himself against her to make sure she was aware of her effect on him. She gave a breathy moan and closed her eyes, turning her face up to his, offering up her mouth to his inspection. He groaned and took that offering, pushing his tongue as deep as it would go and curling around her tongue. With bruising force, he fed at her mouth, his hands wide and kneading her flesh through the thick cloth of the robe.

After a few minutes of thorough, crushing exploration, Al pulled back and slowly opened his eyes. He found her face slack with lust, her eyes closed and her throat working to swallow. He growled and thrust against her again, so close to giving in.

"If we don't leave now, little angle," he choked out, "we'll never get out." When she lifted her head to give him a confused look, he grinned and pulled her into the line.