Fingers protrude forward from the other side of the bath, the black claws I know that emerge from the pale flesh clothed in the mended fabric. I press myself flush against the tile wall, ignoring the ice-cold feeling that runs along my back. My eyes quickly scan the area but I know I'm trapped—vulnerable with nothing to protect myself.
The erratic beat of my heart makes the blood pulse in my ears, a low growl from the other side making my muscles tense. The protruding fingers soon fall back only to wrap around the edge of the shower curtain, and I shuffle to the opposite side of the bath as the shower curtain is pulled back, allowing a rush of cool air to mix with the steam. Red eyes gaze up at me as Damien steps inside, his grey shirt hanging off in shreds with the boxers still on his hips; stretched out by his erection.
A small hiss leaves the devil-child as the hot water hits his chest and outstretching an arm he slowly turns the hot water knob off. Goosebumps begin to trail up and down my skin at the changing temperature, my body starting to shake from both the cold and rising fear. As the knob lets out a squeak when it hits the final turn, Damien's arm brushes against mine; causing me to jump from the warmth it radiates. A sharp contrast to the cold that soon takes its place.
My breathing hitches as the noirette continues to stand there, his red eyes moving momentarily over my exposed form. Red flushes my cheeks when his eyes focus on my lower regions and grabbing a washcloth I hastily cover myself. I want to scream at him to leave, to get out, but can't find my voice.
The clawed hand falls away from the shower knob and black claws gently scrap my side. I freeze when I see them, their smooth ebony shade contrasting sharply against the peach marred flesh. Though I still can't feel anything there, just seeing them causes me to feel phantom touches. The clawed fingers follow the blemished skin, tips of the claws caressing the strange shapes they make. But, as the hand falls down to the markings on my hip I grab the wrist in an iron grip.
"No," I breathe, my shock suddenly replaced with rage. A puzzled look covers Damien's face as he continues to look at the marks and I snap. Throwing his hand back I shout, "Get out!"
He doesn't do as I say and instead the demon-child continues to stand there, the cold water hitting him making steam slowly rise from his form. His scent—that dreaded alluring scent—begins to waft the air around me; making my nerves sing. My eyes trail down the familiar body without my permission, my breath hitching when they land on the soaked boxers clinging to his thighs and cock. I try to steel my nerves and retain control of myself as I beckon him forward with a curl of my finger but can't help but shake. Surprisingly, the devil-child doesn't immediately come and instead stays on his side of the tub. A small smile forms on my face at the lack of reaction and I'm not sure why.
"Come here," I say like one would to a child, "And don't attack me."
Almost hesitantly, Damien makes his way over. Not stopping till we're both nose to nose, forcing me back up to add just a few inches of space between us. His smoke tainted breath washes over my lips, his erection pressing into my thigh. Heat radiates from the young man's body, warming up my front while the cold water chills my back. All the while I can't but think of how easy it'd be to fall forward just a bit and become encased in that comforting warmth. To be wrapped up in it and let go of my worries for a while. But, I keep still and will the thoughts away, ignoring my own growing excitement. Turning my green eyes away from Damien's I stutter, "W-what do y-you want me to d-do?"
The noirette lets out a hum of thought and for the first time speaks, "Example?" His voice is coarse and groggy, sending a shiver up my spine.
"Example?" I ask, causing him to nod, "I-I…don't quite get what you mean."
Damien is quiet for a while before suddenly pushing me flush against the tile wall. I stutter and exclaim my discontent as his palms hold me there when he says, "Stay completely still."
Despite a small voice in the back of my mind telling me not to, I do as he says, anxious and scared as to what he's got planned. Soft lips press against my neck, a warm tongue licking at the skin. My body freezes at the small pleasurable sensations and anxiety begins to bubble inside as the kisses increase and trail lower; a small groan leaving my mouth as the lips press vigorously against the crook of my neck.
A clawed hand rakes down my chest, fingers playing with the blond curled hair that trails down to my stomach. I can feel the warmth from it trail lower and hover just over my excitement before avoiding it and caressing my thigh. A whine echoes in the back of throat and my face brightens in color. Damien chuckles, his breath tickling my neck.
I should stop this but, honestly, I can't bring myself to care. He'll have to be taken care of whether I'm sated or not. The thought of him barreling out of the house and pouncing on some unexpecting soul giving me reason to wrap my arms around his neck as pale hands and lips continue to feel my skin. Shame whispers into my ear as the kisses trail lower, down my chest and onto my stomach.
How disgusting, the emotion says, it's grip on me tightening, How uncouth. Like a whore. Desire battles with my morals as I run my fingers through the raven locks, the delicious heat from that mouth pressing into my thigh.
I can't do this.
"Stop," I croak, pulling on the thick hair in protest. Curious red eyes look up at me from his kneeled position and I have to force my own shut—the image burned into my mind, tempting me to let go. Instead, I groan out, "I can't do this. I-I'm sorry…"
Damien stands and presses his nose to mine but I can't bring myself to open my eyes. This is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. We should at least court for a bit before participating in these activities and yet I'm always, always, here. Compromised and overcome with complex desires to do what I want and what's right. Sometimes I wish I were raised differently. Perhaps in a home or simply a place where morals were lax, then I could possibly rush into this without a second thought but…
A warm hand grabs mine and pulls it downward, my fingers slowly sliding down the red fabric to linger on the devil-child's pulsing flesh. My eyes open and flicker down for a split second before looking him back in the eye. His breathe mingles with mine, our lips just a an inch apart. Some primal instinct takes over my cognitive thought as I continue to breathe in that alluring scent, the feeling like cotton balls slowly taking up the small space left between my brain and skull. The young man moves his head to bury his face into the crook of my neck as I pull his cock through the slip in his boxers and wrap my fingers around the length. My other hand remains curled up in the thick raven locks, the sounds that begin to fall from his lips as I move my other hand along the erection stirring up the desire curling in my gut further.
Warm, pale arms wrap around me, clutching me tightly as the temperature starts to rise in the small room. The cold water becoming steam as it touches his skin, the humidity rising to such a degree that a dense fog begins to form around us. Damien lets out a shaky moan before becoming tense, his claws curling up and almost painfully pressing into my flesh. I speed up my hand's movement and the demon lets out a low hiss. With a shutter he climaxes into my hand and, like a rag doll, goes limp on me—nearly making both of us tumble to the ground.
Giving a frustrated sigh I ignore my own problem and proceed to clean both of us up and turn off the water. With great difficulty I pull him out of the tub, careful to not brush my aching erection on anything. I towel dry the both of us the best I can and carry him to my bed, wanting to collapse and fall asleep as soon as possible—not even caring about the amount of water that still lies on the tile floor. After covering both of us up I scoot over to my side of the bed, not caring about my unclothed self, and fall into a deep slumber.
The muffled wailing of the kettle stirs my mind into a semi-alert state, the lingering cling of slumber grasping tightly to my eyes in an effort to bring me back to the land of sleep. Eyelids blinking slowly as I awaken, looking around the room in search of my temporary roommate and I find myself slightly disappointed. The room is empty and as the wailing comes to a sudden halt I fall back into the bed, pulling the covers up my chin. The cover are cool and damp against my form but it feels nice and thus I can't bring myself to care about their state; though I know that they'll soon have to be washed if I don't want a mildew smell to grow from the sheets. After a few moments of silence the door to my room opens with a click and the pit-a-pat of bare feet reach my ears. A warm hand pokes my cheek rather harshly and I groan in discontent.
"Wake up nancy-boy," Damien says, poking my face again, "Tea is ready."
I look up at the devil through the corner of my eye, noting the black shirt and grey sweatpants that cover his torso and legs, before shooing him away with my hand and pulling the covers closer to my body. The devil-child snorts. Suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist, yanking me out of bed with a yelp. I jolt awake, the cold air hitting my skin a sharp reminder that I am still bare. Luckily, my feet land straight on the wooden floor, a red blush creeping onto my cheeks as the covers fall from my grasp, the fabric pooling around my toes. Black eyes rake over my body and with a shiver I snatch the covers from the ground and wrap them around my body to shield myself from his piercing stare.
"That was not necessary," I chide with a bit of spite. Refusing to look the other in the eye.
"…What caused those marks?"
I turn my gaze up at the unexpected question, the spark of annoyance in my heart growing into a fire at the scrunched up look of disgust that covers his face. I let out an awkward and humorless laugh, clutching the bedcover tighter. "You caused them."
His expression doesn't change at the revelation, instead evenly saying, "Ah, then let me see them."
I coil back at the startling request. "Why?"
The noirette shrugs. "I supposedly caused them so I have a right to see them."
Anger awakens in the back of my mind, the sparked fury rising in degree. My fists clench tighter around the fabric, that dark gaze still on me. "Supposedly? You DID cause them!"
"Then let me see them."
"No," I reply, a little miffed at his attitude, "You saw them last night. That was enough."
The devil shrugs. "Didn't get a good look at them. I was busy focused on other things last night, ass-hat." My cheeks deepen in color at the comment, and with a huff he grabs ahold of the bedspread, looking me straight in the eyes with a mischievous smile. "You'd think a fucking sap like yourself would be happy with the attention but instead you push me away."
Without warning he harshly pulls the bedspread away. I nearly stumble and let out a gasp in shock, quickly covering myself with my hands. "Dang it, Damien! Give me back the blanket!"
"Seriously, why are you so prudish?" Damien continues, completely ignoring my outcry, "I wasn't gonna hurt you fucktard." He pauses. "Not on purpose at least."
I huff and grab ahold of the edge of the bedspread, trying to pull it out of his grasp. "Right, cause all those other times when you just jumped me didn't hurt at all," I snap, pulling the sheet from his hands with a single tug, "Now, get out I need to dress."
The noirette cocks his head to the side that crooked smile growing on his face as I start to rewrap myself in the comforters hold. He immediately pulls the covers back and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to keep my patience. "Damien," I warn, narrowing my eyes at the hell spawn, "If you don't leave right now I will throw you out of my bedroom!"
"I was just a little aggressive, Pippers. You try being fucking horny as hell and not attack someone! Besides it's not like you'll have to worry about that anymore." My irritation halts at those words, confusion morphing the narrowed expression on my face into something softer. Damien rolls his eyes. "Your desire? Don't you fucking remember? At the lake? 'Don't force yourself onto me'? I gave you my word it'd be without an attachments or fine print so there you go."
The cruel smile returns to his face and he smugly comments, "Though you left a lot of loop holes for me to jump through."
I don't bother to reply and walk over to my dresser, digging through the old furniture for some clothes; ignoring the nagging voice in my head telling me how inappropriate it is to walk around nude in the presence of another.
Honestly, I tell myself, he's seen it. There isn't really anything left to hide.
Then a warm hand touches my side and I jump from the unexpected contact. Damien doesn't look me in the eyes, his gaze focused on the marred flesh sprouting over my hip. I watch as his fingers trace the embedded patterns, unable to find my voice to tell him to stop. He looks so…out of place. As if he's trying desperately to remember when he had caused the large mark, a deep frown on his face. The foggy memory of how the marking came to be plays in my mind like an old VHS tape, everything nearly unrecognizable except for the recollection of the pain; the feeling of being burned alive.
"Please stop," I whisper, my words hushed and voice quivering as phantom touches begin to sprout from the marred area. Black eyes look back up at mine and instantly the hand falls away. For a moment we stay like that, our eyes interlocked as a steady tension builds. But then, almost awkwardly the young man looks away, his feet leading him away from me.
"You'd better hurry on to school," the devil-child says, heading out of my room, "It's nearing 10 o'clock. You're late."
I'm not one for disregarding the law, not at all, but I suppose today's an exception; seeing as how I went well over the speed limit trying to get to school. I didn't even slow down when I saw Officer Barbrady on the side of the road, knowing that he possibly wouldn't even try to pull me over. Unfortunately, today is just not my day.
The police siren wails behind me, forcing me to pull over by a ditch. Grudgingly I turn the car off and silently wait for the officer to walk up to my window. Anxiety making my muscles sit on edge, cause this is bad. Really, really bad. I can't find my driver's license, I don't know where the papers to this dang truck are, and I haven't been a minor for quite a few months. My face pales. What if they take the truck away?
A hand taps on my window and I quickly roll it down, not meeting the officer's eyes. "License and registration please."
I open the glove box between the two front seats, my right hand flipping through the mess of receipts. Then my fingers brush something plastic and crusting in something I can only describe as gunk. I gaze down curiously and immediately pull my hand out of the container; disgust and annoyance making me grimace at the used condoms sitting innocently among the clutter. Wiping my hand on the leather seats I turn to Officer Barbrady with a toothy smile.
"Er, sorry chap. I don't seem to have either."
Why the dickens are there used condoms in Damien's car?!
"Oh. Wait a second," he says, looking closer at me, "You're suppose to be in school."
"Yes sir, I woke up a tad bit late and was on my way there." He pauses for a minute as if slowly thinking over my words. I squirm in my seat awkwardly under that sunglass hidden gaze, his face unreadable until those brown eyebrows narrow.
"Speeding, driving without a license and registration, and skipping school? Calmly get out of the car sir."
I wince and quickly sputter, "B-but I wasn't skipping!"
"Calmly get out of the car sir," he repeats, showing me the police baton in his hand, "Don't make me have to use force."
Throwing my hands up as a sign of surrender, I do as he asks and calmly step out. Without warning, I'm pushed against the side of the truck, the wind effectively knocked out of my lungs as a meaty arm pushes into my upper back. Cold metal wraps tightly around my wrists and with a clear click the cuffs are locked.
Today is not my day…
I slump against the gray walls of the jail cell; the metal bars a harsh reminder of my ill luck. After my arrest the truck had been towed and Officer Barbrady had gone on to read me my rights—after some arguing that I am an American citizen despite my accent. Just my luck that the department wished to make an "example" of me as well, fining me $500 for not driving with a driver's license, and sentencing me to a night in jail for skipping school and refusing to show the officer papers of registration upon request.
While I was given the opportunity to make a phone call I can't call anyone as I never bothered to memorize any numbers and don't have a phone of my own. Anxiety claws at me as I think of what this evening will bring. Damien will go into his heat and…oh God. I clasp my head in my hands, rocking back and forth on the wooden slab seat. If he gets out and hurts someone then…I'll have caused it.
Because I was stupid and tried to speed off to school someone is going to get hurt tonight. The guilt quickly builds up inside making me physically ill. My stomach knots, the bile within burns my throat but never makes it all the way up. I glance up to the clock on the wall, the hands reading 3 o'clock.
School is out now…will Damien even care when I don't come home? He'll surely notice.
The hours tick by dreadfully slow as I continue to sit there, at times a distant clatter or mutter coming from the cells adjacent to my own; bored out of my mind while anxiety and guilt torture me with vivid scenes of what the unstoppable dilemma tonight will bring. The jingle of keys awakens me from my awful thoughts, and with beady eyes I look up as the footsteps stop outside of my cell. My mouth falls in disbelief at the two blonds staring at me, their expressions mirroring each other's shock.
What are Kenny and Butters doing here?
Out of all the people to find me in this awkward and humiliating situation I guess I couldn't ask for better. Neither seems like the type to judge but I bet their curiosity is buzzing. Especially Kenny's judging by that amused smirk forming on his face.
"Pip?" Butters asks, "Why're you in here? Why weren't ya at school?
I let out an awkward laugh. "Ah, Kenny, Butters, 'ello chaps. Seems I got myself into quite a conundrum. I…I was late so I speed to school, got caught speeding then driving without a license. One thing lead to another and well here I am. Being made an example of. Er, why are you two here?"
"Butters and I work here as part timers cleaning up the floors, bathrooms, and trash. Hell sometimes we even get these cops coffee," Kenny explains with a shrug, "Hoping we can both join the academy after graduation. Making connections here will make it easier to put our foot in the door."
"You want to become officers?" I question, honestly shocked by their future work choice, "Well, I wish you both the best of luck then."
Butters expression grows in concern and gripping the bars he says, "Well, I'm sorry you're in here, fella. Maybe Ken and I could talk to the chief for ya. We're on pretty good terms and you're too nice of a guy to be locked up in here."
A genuine smile grows on my face. "Thank you, chap. If you were able to I'd greatly appreciate it, but could I talk to Kenny privately if you don't mind?"
The blond gives an odd look between us before shrugging his shoulders, and leaving with a wave of his hand. I wait until I can't hear the other's footsteps anymore before opening my mouth to speak. Kenny holds up a hand to silence me immediately, a knowing smile on his face.
"You're worried about Damien aren't ya?" he asks. Stunned I give a sharp nod, making the teenager shake his head. "Don't be. I'll go and check up on him after work. He's a brat for sure but knows when to stay out of trouble."
"That's…not why I'm worried," I whisper, "It's his…condition. I'm afraid he's going to hurt someone."
Kenny's eyes widen at my confession. "Hurt someone? Is it that bad?" I look at him in a momentarily silence before nodding. The blond sighs. "Has he ever…you know, forced himself onto ya?"
"Well…kind of," I quietly respond, not liking the sudden absence of movement from the other cells, "He's tried. Failed in all regards but he's still tried. I…I can fight him off and last night he didn't try to force himself on me but…"
The blond curses and starts to pace, running his hand through his hair. "This is so fucking messed up. So, so, so fucking messed up." With a pause he shoots me a sharp look. "Look, Damien might be cruel at times but he'd never do that to someone. Never. Anyone he's been with has always been consensual."
"Really? So, he can have the cruelty to bully people, set me on fire, and ask for my heart on a platter but not rape?" I ask making the other boy flinch, "On the very first night he said 'you'll do for now' before launching himself after me."
"He wasn't in his right mind," Kenny hisses.
"And he won't be tonight," I snap back, "If you can get me out I can keep him in my home. If you can't I need you to go other there and…take care of him. He shouldn't refuse once it gets bad enough."
The young man pauses, looking down on me with a mix of emotions. Finally, he exhales a deep sigh. "I won't like it but I'll…I'll try. But, Butters and I are definitely going to try and get you out. Um, are you really alright with…dealing with that?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "I don't have much of a choice. I've already given Satan my word and Damien refuses to let anyone else come see him during this time. Believe me, I've tried."
Kenny nods, a forced small smile stretching his chapped lips. "Alright. But let's keep this raunchy business between just the three of us. If Bebe finds out then I'm totally out on the street."
I raise an eyebrow but nod, giving a small smile of my own. "I'd much appreciate that."
The clock ticks to 6 o'clock and I'm still stuck in my cage. Neither Butters nor Kenny could get me any wiggle room for escape. Like a hyperactive child I pace around the room, my fingers moving in an erratic beat as I clench them together and tear them apart. Kenny had sworn he would try to help keep Damien under control, but I fear that tonight the demon will be free and wreck havoc. Bringing fire and destruction wherever he goes, forcing himself onto poor unexpecting souls.
Anger burns fiercely in my gut but I can't help but bring myself to worry for the noirette's safety as well. That scent of his is going to drive people to him like fly to honey. What if in his confusion he attracts the wrong kind of people? The ones you don't even make eye contact with on the street? Damien had confessed that he doesn't even want the lust the heat puts upon him but his actions…surely there's some sort of pleasure he gets from it. He certainly has no quarrels about going after me. I pause.
Now…why is that? Surely Damien would like to go through this with someone he's close to and has a special relationship with? Judging by those used condoms in his vehicle the devil has had quite a lot partners or at least had a few many, many times. If he had no objections with those people at that time then why now? It is because we don't have a close relationship so there's nothing to ruin? Is it the power play like the bully and victim we are at times at school?
No. No, it can't be the power play. Damien doesn't even try to make me lash out at him anymore. He doesn't speak harsh words directed to actually hurt me and even carries a normal conversation with me. No. There's something to this. Some key part I'm missing. And by golly, I'm going to figure it out.
A/N: Hey, look! And update!
Hmmm, what could Damien be hiding? I wonder... And, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. There's just so much suspense!
Also, I got a question for you guys. Does this story seem to be pacing well to you? I'm honestly losing my way along the path to get from Point A to Point B in the story (I've written like 5 chapters ahead from this). So if you have an complaints or comments I'll happily listen to them and even reply to you about them.
I'll try to have an other update for you guys by the 2nd week of November. Peace. :)
South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone
