Summary: King Wyatt Halliwell takes the time to enjoy his latest sweet Darklighter whore.
Damon, the Darklighter in question, doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.
Notes: Originally a roleplay with moralitystrikes. Slash. Lemon. Non-con/highly dubious consent. Title is from "My Soubrette" by OOMPH!.
my sweet whore
"You can do what you want—I will never forget you.
You can do what you want—I will always beget you — again.
You can do what you want—I will never forget my soubrette.
You can do what you want—I will never forget you."
Time to put your love back in your hands.
Time to give your love a second chance.
"You can be what you want—I will never ignore you.
You can be what you want—I will always adore you — again.
You can be what you want—I will never ignore my sweet whore.
You can be what you want—I will never ignore you."
Time to put your love back in your hands
Time to give your love a fucking sense.
~~ "My Soubrette", Oomph!
Rough fingertips brush over war-shaped spine and neck, his large cock fully sheathed by those warm insides, deep and tightly embraced. Settling, he rejoiced in the sound of a gasping breath delivered by the other. The touches, albeit uncharacteristic of a demon, aimed to sooth the pain that could erupt from such deepening intrusion.
Leaning forward, he arched his back, lips against those ears. "Meine Hure." He grunted a warning. Hands on the low of his spine, settled, grounding, Wyatt's hips began to rush into him, rough, almost careless, as the impressive length repeatedly dove in and out of those insides in fast hard thrusts while being negated the change to orb into painless safety.
This wasn't the first time that they had done this, but even relaxed and with Wyatt's magic helping, Damon's body still struggled with first taking the underworld leader's full, impressive length. He'd adjusted by the time Wyatt was fully sheathed inside him, gasping from the pleasure-pain of it, of Wyatt's hands running along his back before settling on the base of his spine.
Lying stretched out on his stomach beneath his demon-witch-Whitelighter hybrid king, the Darklighter felt like he was being split open—and then he sensed Wyatt leaning forward, over him; felt his lips against his ear. Heard the grunted warning, Wyatt calling him his whore. His only response was a low moan, then a wordless cry when the other's hips moved in earnest, fucking him hard, fast, rough.
Gods, when the far more powerful ruler of the Underworld was deep inside him like this, it was sometimes difficult for Damon to remember why he was in this position in the first place: As punishment for mouthing off and refusing to accept that as an evil magical being himself, he now fell under King Wyatt Halliwell's control. That he'd had one of his active powers stolen, and by doing as the other man commanded he could have his stolen power returned.
Thrusts quickened, roughened. Soon to become a blur, the figure of Wyatt's body drew itself off little by little as the speed taken raised to supernatural levels. Projection in use, he made use to move as fast as that body could possibly withstand the friction. Both that ass and his cock, that met angrily over and over and over again.
The tribrid's hands moved slow, despite the speed of his hips, to grab onto dark hair for support, pulling up from that head as he wanted moans and sounds to be heard and echo the throne room. Wanted to be heard. Noticed. Known .
Damon gasped sharply when hands gripped his hair, pulled up. The gasp turned to a moan as his body shuddered beneath the onslaught. Then a scream.
He couldn't take much more; he was going to cum; he needed to cum... Needed his king's semen in him, on him.
"Bitte." Right then, he didn't care how loud his voice was or who heard him. "Bitte, bitte, bitte..."
Wyatt's hand moved to Damon's neck; briefly, a dark glow over it made the voice project itself, each sound, each word, each screamed, amplified as if using a megaphone. His lips curling his own throat tightening as primal sounds were given out like the beast he was.
With a tighter grip over that neck, and a secured hold, he rushed up slightly above, to a point where pleasure and pain mixed further together. "Paint the walls," he groaned. "Leave your mark, my Whore."
The hold on his neck, his king groaning for him to leave his mark, being called his whore... it was too much. Pleasure, pain mixed until Damon couldn't be sure which was which.
His back arched, eyes closing, mouth open on a groan as his orgasm crashed over him. White sprayed the walls before him.
Spent, breathing harsh and loud even to his own ears, he couldn't help his body's shivering as he slowly came down from his release.
Wyatt's hands pressed forward, a last thrust as that tightening ass on the other's orgasm had him pleased. Wyatt groaned; with that last push, his cock collapsed and released a wide amount of semen inside of the demon, hands gripping the walls of the cave so he could prevent it from going too far into him. As he removed his cock slowly, he was still dripping cum down those weakening legs.
"Fuck ..." Still trying to catch his breath, trembling with aftershocks, Damon was certain the only reason he was still somewhat stable at the moment was due to the surface beneath him—and even with that, he felt like he was going to collapse. He didn't even have the magical energy to orb so he could change positions.
Right now, it seemed like all he could do for the moment was lie there, sweat starting to dry on his skin and feeling King Wyatt's release still dripping down his legs.
