Page 36 of Gift for a Demon

Feeling Melchom come inside of him was like nothing he’d experienced before—probably because he’d never been with anyone even close to the demon’s size. He felt… bloated, stretched in ways that didn’t feel natural or even possible. Even more so when Melchom pressed a finger against his entrance, keeping his cum secured inside.

“Hnngh.” Dave would swear he was trying to say something.

He just didn’t know what.

“Feel it, Dove,” Melchom spoke reverently. “You have a king’s seed inside of you.”

That… that shouldn’t be hot… should it?

Dave shuddered.

CHAPTER 8

MELCHOM

“What did you mean?”

Melchom frowned. He’d thought his human would be quiet longer after the way he’d fucked him in the tub.

He shouldn’t be surprised. There was very little the human had done since he’d got him inside his chambers that had been predictable.

“What did I mean when?”

“You said the minions want my hair, not yours? But I…” Dove frowned. Melchom liked more and more the way that name felt when he thought of his human. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind? You said before that a guy was wrong about me? It felt like you were saying I couldn’t be special or something, but… Now I am? I don’t want to be special.”

With Dove talking almost as fast as he was thinking, Melchom had to focus to keep up.

His human didn’t know it, but he was sharp.

Incredibly so. Melchom didn’t think another human would’ve reached the conclusions Dove was—not like that.

It took them longer to get used to Hell and its policies, the way it worked. Melchom was beginning to think his Dove was already halfway there.

“There are some old writings demons are obsessed about, minions included.” Melchom drained the tub as he spoke. “Full of prophecies, spells, that kind of thing.”

“Spells?” Dove perked up. “I wanna learn spells. Wiccans always looked so cool.”

“Of course you do.” Melchom would have to remember not to let him near any of the libraries. Who knew what kind of damage Dove could cause, and Melchom was not willing to pay the price for it. “Anyway, there are a few prophecies that Astaroth, and the minions, think concern you.”

“Fuck no.” The human scampered out of the tub and backwards into the room. “I’m not going to be the chosen one trope. Being the horny gay one was bad enough, but…”

“What are you talking about?” Melchom shook his head but followed Dove, noting the rivulets of water pooling on the floor.

“You know, when the average person is suddenly snatched and the world’s future is at stake and it’s on their shoulders. I can’t handle that!”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

To begin with, Melchom wasn’t convinced Astaroth had been right yet—or that the minions were, for that matter. The minions were even less right, to be fair. If there was any hint to hair having power in the prophecies, they quite clearly referred to its color, and it wasn’t Melchom’s unique pearly shade. Not that he should be surprised that they couldn’t even read something right. They were relegated to being minions for a reason. They couldn’t stop and think for two seconds if their lives depended on it—and they often did.

“You’re not reassuring me.”

Melchom focused back on the human. “You’ll have to forgive me, Dove. But no, you don’t have anything on your shoulders.”

“Are you sure?” Dove crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He seemed to have conveniently forgotten he was naked, even if it had been a big deal just the day before. Melchom liked that; he was already molding him, turning him into the kind of human he could play with without all the annoying traits they often clung to.

“I am sure.” Melchom approached him then, hoisting him up until the crook of Dove’s neck was within biting distance. “Then again, you probably shouldn’t believe me.”

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