Alchemy was not like most demons. Most demons, both full- and half-breeds, had an aversion to any sort of Christian symbolism. Alchemy, however, had been baptized in her father's church, and even attended Sunday School for a period in her early years. Alchemy also wore a rosary. It was a pretty rosary, made of blue glass beads and silver. She kept it tucked in her shirt most of the time. When she wasn't wearing the rosary, she hung it over a corner of her mirror. Praxis often scolded her husband for giving Alchemy the rosary. It had been Alexander's mothers, and though she never lived long enough to see her granddaughter wear it, it was her wish to have her first-born granddaughter have the heirloom.
Blackheart was still lounging in bed when Alchemy was standing in front of her mirror, brushing her hair. She slid the rosary on.
"You still wear that ridiculous thing?"
"It was my grandmothers," Alchemy gently touched the cross.
"Doesn't it hurt you?"
She shook her head, "It feels warm."
"But you're a demon."
"I know," she replied, "it was her wish to see me wear it..."
"So, you conform to it?"
She scrunched her nose, "Why not?"
"Because it goes against your very biology."
"Crosses don't burn demons, they are just afraid to be associated with them, because of the history. Crosses aren't Christian, they are Roman, Celtic, pagan at their core, and if you think of it like that, then why does it matter?"
"It isn't normal."
She shrugged, "I never was normal, was I?"
Blackheart and Alchemy had grown much closer in a short period of time. Ever since Praxis had insulted both her daughter's cleaning and cooking, Alchemy was noticeably less cold toward Blackheart. On this lazy Tuesday, Alchemy was flipping through a cooking magazine Praxis purchased for her at the grocery store. An apology, probably from her father rather than her mother. There was a recipe for dessert-like cinnamon bread. It looked delicious. She quickly raided the pantry and began to make the dough.
"What are you doing?" Blackheart had wandered into the kitchen.
"I'm making bread, do you want to help?"
Alchemy looked different with her hair pulled up in a messy knot. The rosary hung off the knot; electric blue contrasting beautifully off the jet colour of her hair. The small silver crucifix dangled elegantly at the back of her neck.
"Why are you wearing that thing in your hair?"
"This dough is sticky, and it could fall out of my shirt, it's safer to have it bobby-pinned in my hair." She rubbed her hands with flour, "do you want to help or not?"
"Okay," He said.
She took his hands and coated them with flour, "you can knead the dough."
He looked aghast, "you mean mix it together with my hands?"
She nodded, "it's not difficult." She smiled, "I'll teach you the way my aunt taught me. Stand behind me."
"What?"
"Trust me," She smiled, "now, put your hands over mine."
Blackheart complied, wondering what this could possibly do with kneading dough. She began to work the dough, letting it squish between her fingers. Blackheart felt her hands move skilfully.
"This is how you learned to make bread?"
"My aunt is a master baker," Alchemy said cheerily, adding more flour to both their hands, "when I was at her house for a month one summer, she taught me to bake."
Once the dough began to come together, Alchemy disentangled herself.
"What are you doing?" Blackheart asked, his hands covered in cinnamon bread dough.
"Go on, keep kneading the dough. Feel it, let it speak to you."
"Alchemy, it's dough..."
"Trust me."
By the time the bread was ready to go in the oven, Blackheart's once-immaculate vest was covered with flour, but he was smiling happily. Cooking with Alchemy was an adventure, especially when she threw raisins at him for twenty minutes. By the time the bread was done, both were happily laughing and (after a rather extensive clean-up)were talking like old friends, teasing each other.
That evening, Alchemy was reclining with her computer, as usual. Blackheart was reading, as usual.
"Blackheart..." she said softly, a quiver in her voice.
"What?"
"I'm scared."
"Scared of what?"
"The rabbit in Donnie Darko."
"Then why are you watching it?"
"Please come watch it with me." She plugged another pair of headphones in her computer and handed them to him. Blackheart snorted lightly, but turned out his light and lay beside Alchemy. She was shivering. She latched onto him, still shivering.
"It's only a film," he said.
She didn't listen to him.
Before the movie had ended, she had fallen asleep in a quivering little ball. Carefully, Blackheart removed her headphones and shut down her computer. He carefully laid her in the center of her bed. Though he had known since he crawled into bed with her that she wasn't wearing a shirt, laying her on her back caused her breasts to be exposed to the darkness of her room. They rose and fell gently with her breath, perfect circles sitting on her chest. There was something elegantly beautiful about the way her hair fluttered about her face, and the way her hand was curled slightly, grasping the air. She had forgotten to take that stupid rosary off her neck, and it was resting between her breasts. The silver blended almost perfectly with her skin.
Returning to his own bed, Blackheart tried to push the thoughts of Alchemy out of his mind. She was a good friend, and right now she needed a friend, not some demon fantasizing about her.
Something jumped lightly on the bed by Blackheart's feet. It woke up from a deep sleep. "The hell?" He asked, seeing a dark shape. His eyes focused, and there at the foot of his bed was the shape of a sixteen year old Alchemy. "Alche—" She pressed her finger to her lips. She crawled up the bed, sitting neatly between his legs. She ran a cold finger across his icy stomach. She propped herself up on her knees and stared up into his eyes. "Alchemy," he started to speak. Again, she just pressed her finger to her lips. Blackheart was sitting up now, leaning against his headboard. "Seriously, what are you doing?"
Her reddish-black eyes blinked. Once. Twice. They stared at each other for a few minutes. Her sixteen year old body quivered with nerves. "I think you know."
"Alchemy, go back to bed, you're sixteen."
"I don't want to go back to bed." Her chest tightened in defiance.
"You're sixteen."
Her hand slid down his chest, "I don't care."
He shivered, "Alchemy, you can't."
"I can," she replied simply, hand trailing down further, "and I will." She eyed him carefully.
He knew full-well what she was thinking. He could see it in her eyes. She was only sixteen years old. A child, really. But, she was persistent. She wouldn't give up. She wanted his attention, and figured this was the only way to get it. But of course, that thought was just ridiculous. She may have a harmless crush, but was she really going to risk everything, including her life. He could kill her for disobeying him, if he so desired. He could pick her up and put her back on her own bed, and stay up the night to watch her, and make sure she didn't try this again.
However, his rational thought had ended. A slightly curved nail ran down his pubic bone.
"Alchemy," He hissed out. She grinned slightly and lowered her left shoulder, then her right. She shot one last glance at him before bending her head down.
He felt her cold breath on his groin. He tensed.
"Alchemy, don't" he whispered. She smiled in response, a grin much too devious for a girl of her years. He gulped as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his leather pants, and hissed as she pulled down his pants. He gasped. This is wrong. This is-he lost his train of thought quickly: her small demon hand grasped his rapidly hardening member, and gave it one experimental pump. He gave a strangled moan and bucked his hips upwards. Alchemy grinned, pleased at eliciting such a response from Blackheart. He tried one more time to dissuade her from continuing, but all notions of making her stop disappeared the moment the teen demon's lips kissed his purpling head. She licked circles with her tongue on his head and took a couple inches slowly into her mouth. He gasped again, and moaned. She began to gently take the rest of his length into her cold mouth, gently holding down his trembling thighs. She began to gently bob her head up and down, gently scraping her teeth along his shaft.
"Fuck, don't stop" he gasped. She complied, gently sucking in her cheeks to create a vacuum as she blew him. She increased her tempo, bobbing up and down faster. He gasped. She moaned in response and increased her pace. She could feel him trembling beneath her and he came in spurts of hot saltiness in her mouth. She raised her head, cum dripping out of the corners of her mouth and falling in between her luscious breasts. She swallowed and his eyes followed the movement of her throat.
In a tangle of sheets and sweat, he jolted awake, panting heavily. He rubbed his eyes and growled into the darkness. Here he was, a full-grown demon having pathetic wet dreams like some hormonal teenager. Maybe, he thought carefully to himself, maybe it wasn't a dream...
He stole a quick glance at Alchemy, curled up under her duvet, snoring.
Okay, so it was a dream.
Still rubbing his eyes, he leaned against his headboard, questioning his mental state.
"Oh come on," He whispered to himself, "She's not that pretty."
Aha, a little voice in his head replied, you are attracted to her.
"I am not."
You were fantasizing about her before you even fell asleep.
"Okay, so she's mysterious, that doesn't mean anything."
Yeah, but what do the semen-stained sheets mean?
He sighed. This was exactly what he needed.
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Special thanks to SilverWng-Mryddin Ambrosius for this chapter!
