He loved to watch the hero come undone.
Watch him writhe and whimper and try so desperately to fight against his natural, human wants, watch him bite that lower lip of his until a thin crimson line dripped down his chin, all for the sake of keeping those delicious cries inside. The hero tried so hard to resist him.
Which was why the demon lord enjoyed breaking him so. He had a strategy, a very specific pattern that never failed to leave the Sky Child breathless and begging.
He would start with teasing words, most often murmured into the boy's ear as if in secret, though they were always alone when they met and needn't fear someone walking in on them. The little hero always tried to resist, but Ghirahim knew exactly which words would bring that lovely shade of red on his face to the surface.
"S-stop it, Ghirahim..." would always be the boy's red-faced, stammered defence. He spoke so softly, the man occasionally had to strain to hear this phrase. However, when the words left the hero's lips, the demon lord would simply smirk and continue with his undoing.
Soft, tantelizing touches to the Sky Child's face, neck and chest would constantly make the boy fight against his desires. The Demon Lord found it amusing how little effort it took to make him squirm and whimper - simply pinning his hands above his head and rendering him helpless was almost enough.
Because while the Sky Child would avidly deny it, Ghirahim knew he itched to surrender control. He wanted to be overpowered by the Demon Lord, wanted to succumb to the soft touches and the empty promises and just exist, just feel, as humans often did.
Of course, Ghirahim was more than hapy to oblige with heated kisses and heavy petting that made the goddess' hero tremble under his touch, made delicious whines and whimpers escape that lovely throat of his.
As quiet as the boy normally was, not even the Demon Lord himself would have guessed he would be so vocal in the thoroughs of passion.
Occassionally, Ghirahim would allow his sadistic nature a bit of fun with the child. Bites that left bruises on his pale neck, angry red lines left by nails along his chest and back - even more rarely, the demon lord would use his knives. Of course, he kept this to a minimum for now. The boy had to enjoy it, as well, or the level of satisfaction he felt at seeing the Sky Child's shame would be much less...gratifying.
However, there were times when the boy seemed to crave the violence, ache for the pain. During these nights Ghirahim had his way, with blades and ropes and whatever else he could coax the boy into trusting him with.
And the Hero simply relished the attention.
Ghirahim would sit next to him wherever they had happened to have their little romp. The hero would fall asleep almost immediately after, so exhausted emotionally and physically - Ghirahim was quite the lover, or so he had often been told. The Demon Lord would simply sit and stare at the hero's face, and he would wonder when his hair had gotten so blond, when his eyes had gotten so blue, when his skin had gotten so soft and when the hero, his enemy and the enemy of his master had become so damn irresistable.