Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Remember, M for a reason…a really big reason where conceited demons are concerned.
God I was panting like I'd run all morning then raced back to the car. Or like a whore. Guess which was more appropriate?
My lips parted again, mostly of their own volition, but my cry was muffled by the rough fingers caressing my lips. My tongue darted out, licking him, tasting his salty, musky flesh. He took me at my invitation, and inserted a finger, then another, into my mouth. I twirled my tongue around them as if they were something else entirely, sucking and nibbling harder when his teeth took a hold on the back of my neck. I arched sharply into him, loving the thick, full fill of him penetrating me as deeply as possible, his hard muscled body pressing against me as if to merge us in other ways, his skin practically burning against my flesh as if to brand me as he took me hard from behind.
I managed to moan his name around his fingers, and his teeth tightened, threatening to break the skin, certainly bruising, and driving me all the more wild. I pushed back against him, my hips trying to thrust with him despite the force with which he had me pinned to the wall. His fingers retracted from my mouth, but before I could complain, they'd trailed down my body, his nails scratching to mark. With a little more gentleness, his fingers reached my throbbing sex, and still dripping from my mouth, vigorously rubbed my clit. My nails raked the wall hard enough to scratch through a few layers of paint.
"Al, don't stop, don't stop!" I yelled, trying to toss my head, only to be rewarded by the bruising pressure of his teeth in the soft nape of my neck. He growled into my skin, which was response enough. I didn't want him to let go long enough to really answer. His thrusts, deep and thorough despite his speed, became faster, harder like his mouth on my fragile skin, bruising and wild. I screamed for him as he fucked me against the wall, my heart fluttering like a mad thing at the pace of his hips and the weight of his body restraining me, the only sounds my moans and the wet, violent tempo of our flesh as he drove his engorged cock deep into me.
"God's little green apples, Rachel, I'd give almost anything to know what you're dreaming about," an all-too-familiar voice purred in my ear.
I woke up violently, lashing out at the heavy blanket over me. Al's heavy presence near me didn't shift though, neither did his grasp on my waist. I tried to hit him, and he rolled me, pinning both arms above my head with only one hand. I huffed in frustration. Candy-coated fairy farts, he was quick, and I was immobile under him. My face felt hotter than when the sun had been toasting my skin. Al leered down from atop me, his weight heavy, promising on my hips. I saw his nostrils flare, and he held my eyes while he licked his thick lips suggestively. I didn't think it was possible to blush further without a dangerous drop in blood pressure.
"You smell divine, my itchy-witch," Al rasped, his voice like a physical thing, a forceful caress against my bare skin. God I was still naked, and Al was on top of me, most of the blanket trailing off the bed. And I'd been dreaming about it, him, us. And as a result, I was ridiculously turned on and damn near dripping wet. I think he knew; the smug look on his face and his flared nostrils suggested he did. I contemplated telling him I'd been dreaming of Ivy, or better yet, Trent. See how a little jealousy washed with him. But my lack of complaint at our current position was enough to goad him on, and he lowered himself for a kiss, and there was suddenly no longer any room for words in my mouth.
Al's full lips were sinfully soft, and the hand not pinning my own immobile made use of my prone and bare form. Even without his feather brushes and rougher grasps, it was madness-inducing in my already aroused state. The weight of him on me, the feel of his hard body separated by only his clothes, the musky male scent made softer with cinnamon and sharper with cloves, the textures of velvet and cloth stroking my bare skin created a sensational banquet. It was still dim in Al's bedroom, the silken sheets of his bed still smelling strongly of aloe and the pillows piled haphazardly cradling my nakedness as much as Al's heavy petting. I couldn't stop myself, didn't want to stop myself honestly, from responding to him. My heart spiked at the soft moan, more feel than sound, that escaped him when I responded to his kiss. I relaxed under him, writhed under his hand instead of away from it, and felt in response his own body loosen. His hand released mine, and I sent my fingers to play in his slightly curled hair. Hungrily, he deepened the kiss, probing my mouth with his warm tongue. Pulling away enough to allow me a breath, I ran a finger over his moistened lips, watched, fascinated, as his eyes bore down into mine, the redness of them no longer frightening in their strangeness, but enticing in the need broadcasted there. My hands cupped his face, and I pulled him back down to me, pushing my tongue past his lips to taste him back. Al shuddered on top of me, letting me explore the spicy and alien tastes of his mouth while his hands roamed to my breasts, cupping and caressing, then pinching and rolling the nipples when I offered no resistance to his growingly intimate touches.
Our lips broke apart, and Al sent his mouth to the curve of neck and shoulder, pressing moist kisses and maddening nibbles into the sensitive expanse of skin while his hands explored lower, tensing over the flat expanse of my stomach, clutching and kneading at my hips, teasing down my thighs.
"Al?" I asked, not sure what I was asking, but needing to hear that damn accent-laden voice of his.
"Rachel," Al breathed my name against my bare skin, his hand reaching between my legs to stroke my lips, gently exploring while my hips pressed invitingly against him.
"I wasn't thinking earlier. I'm sorry," I said, my mouth working on its own while my brain belatedly thought how lame that sounded.
Al made one of his strange humming sounds and planted a kiss at the corner of my mouth. "Not your fault, itchy witch. Newt's psycho creativity and utter lack of reason was all over it." His lips covered my own again, saving me the need to respond, using more pressure and sliding than actual deep probing, and I responded to the change, pressing back against him as his fingers instead took up the probing, sliding slowly into my soaked sex, light and long touches that made the pressure of our lips feel bruising in comparison.
I moaned as his fingers fucked me with deliberately slow and lingering thrusts, and taking some initiative of my own, made a grab for the front of his pants. Al's body tensed, then relaxed again as I felt his erection straining against the heavy cloth.
I rubbed and grasped him as much as I could with his pants in the way while he continued with uninhibited access to my most sensitive bits. I grabbed him maybe a bit too roughly when his thumb purposefully circled my clit, building the slow ache in my loins to something sharper, more desperate. But Al just growled into my hair and made no move to join me in my nakedness.
"Al," I whined in frustration, spreading wider for him and trying to pump my hips against his hand to disrupt and escalate his leisurely pace, but he obstinately kept me pinned under his weight and limited in my range of motion.
"All in good time, my itchy witch, though I do love hearing you beg for it," Al whispered in my ear, seizing my earlobe between his teeth before I could offer up a rebuttal. I gasped at the pinch of his teeth then the soothing stroke of his tongue down my neck. I was damn near ready to beg for it too, after all the off-and-on between us, the closeness and sudden distances, his teasing and testing punctuated by actual moments of caring and intimacy. I couldn't keep him off anymore, didn't want to, and wasn't so much ready to forgive as simply willing to forget all the crap he'd dragged me through. It didn't hurt that his bulge was ridiculously promising and bordering on intimidating, and I could feel the throbbing heat of him through his pants. As exciting as my dream had been, the idea of having him pounding that into me from behind was a little more adventurous than I felt up too for a first time with my demon. The tense flesh I felt so prominently through his pants trailed down the leg of his trousers a damn impressive distance. The slight shudder that lifted my skin was half adrenaline and half actual trepidation. I'd gotten a good look when he'd invaded my bath time retreat, and Al's equipment, even only half hard then, had been a far cry from what male witches normally had to work with. If I was right in my suspicions, I still had no real idea what demons looked like naturally. They got to choose their appearances, and as exciting as huge was, there was certainly such a thing as too huge. The ubiquitous demonic penchant for BDSM only added to my trepidation.
Before I could think of a half-diplomatic and half-sexy way of asking him just how large we were talking about here, Al moved his mouth down to my breasts, seizing a nipple between his teeth then sucking hard enough to send my head spinning. Another finger added to my burning core and a smidgen more speed from his busy hand promptly tore a frenzied cry from my lips.
"Just wait until I get the line into you next, Rachel," Al said, removing his lips just long enough to speak, his words rasping out hot and aching against my erect nipple. His teeth pinched down again, hard enough to make me cry out, but the movement of his fingers stroking inside me and the hints of pressure against my clit diluted the pain with a dizzyingly blur of pleasure.
"You'll scream for it," he promised darkly, and I could only pant and writhe in response. Suddenly he seized for my throat, not choking but pulling, lifting my face up and forcing my mouth to his. His thumb stroked the pulse in my neck as his mouth ate at mine, teeth and tongue and lips creating a myriad of conflicting and entwining sensations. The weight was more suddenly, not a physical thing but present, and my hormone-soused mind took a moment to realize it was the pressure of his aura grinding against mine. I felt the promise of it, the beginning tingle of the full load of line energy he was carrying and readying to spindle through me so full and fast I'd seize in a mix of unadulterated pleasure and burning overload.
He withdrew his punishing mouth, resting his lips against mine just enough so I could feel the soft arc of his smile. His fingers paused deep inside me, and I knew it was coming but couldn't tense, could react with anything but an anticipating shudder.
"Say it, Rachel," he whispered, his breath mingling in my mouth. I blinked dumbly, looking up at his smile, his body tense and waiting above me.
"What?" I managed to ask, trying to bring some momentary clarity to the muddle of horny goop that was currently my brain.
"Tell me what you want," Al said, the command only slightly softened by the brush of his fingers in my unruly curls.
I tried to growl at him, but it came out more like a throaty whimper. He smiled but the gentleness in my hair became a tug, a promise of more roughness.
"Al, I want it the way it should be," I said, my mouth moving without the guidance of a fully-functioning brain behind it. He kept his lips a breath away from mine, the warmth of him so close only emphasizing the touch he was holding back. His fingers did something subtle and circular inside me, and I moaned loud and long.
"Please, please," I panted, and his hand pulled my hair, pulling my lips another painful inch away from his. "Show me how," I cried out, only really realizing what I was saying when I felt his mouth finally descended on mine. The ley line energy came two-fold, from his mouth moving hungrily against mine and his fingers again thrusting inside me. It blurred and ran together into one giant need, a burning and overwhelming fire of sensation I'd only felt hints of before. Power pulls with witches were a pale comparison. Even the more intense line play I'd foolishly engaged in with Pierce hadn't prepared me for the true potential of demon magic in bed.
I screamed against him, but the feelings only intensified, making me mad with want even as I was filled with more line energy then I'd ever held before.
Suddenly his tenseness matched my own. The line energy uniting us more than flesh could fizzled out, and I realized my eyes had been clenched shut only when I opened them to take in his furious glare.
"What…" I tried to say, silenced by Al's rumbling and anything-but-playful growl echoing throughout the bedroom. A shudder rolled through his body, and the curses fell thick and foreign from his lips. His fingers withdrew from me, and I stared up, confused and more than a little hurt.
His glare softened minimally when he saw my hurt look. "It can't be helped, Rachel. I'm being summoned," he said glumly.
"What…no!" I shouted, grabbing at his arm as if I could prevent it. It couldn't be, my aching body refused to believe he could just leave. But Al easily pulled himself from my grip to stand beside the bed, jerking his jacket back into place and smoothing down his mussed hair irritably.
"I'll get back as soon as I can," Al said, his voice hard and his look still furious. As angry as I was about it, I didn't envy whoever was on the other ends of that summons. The suffering from my denied libido was nothing compared to what that dark look on my demon's face promised. Al was going to tear that unlucky summoner apart. And when he vanished from the bedroom, left alone with the ghost of his musky scent that only aroused me further but provided none of the satisfaction my aching sex demanded, I didn't really feel all too guilty about what was going to happen to that demon summoner.