Page 47 of Gift for a Demon

He guessed it couldn’t be a surprise others in Hell had noticed as well.

Dove scoffed, bringing him back to the present. “Are you sure about that?”

One look inside his head showed anxiety he was trying to conceal—turmoil and dread for an upcoming migraine after Melchom’s necessary digging.

The demon wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. He could get rid of the migraine, but offering it out loud might spook the human too soon. He was just recovering, having thoughts of never letting the demon inside his head again.

If only he knew there was no way to shield himself, not from Melchom. He was the only thing standing between the human and the demons wanting to make a buffet out of him.

And there was one way he could cement that idea.

“We’re going on a trip tomorrow.”

“What kind of trip?”

“The kind where you don’t get a say in it.” He smirked.

There it was. That sweet drizzle of fear—the shade of fear he was coming to prefer wafting off the human, the one that could turn so easily to arousal. It only took a look, a well-placed touch, or a carefully chosen command.

His human wanted it, too, wanted Melchom to get him hard and fuck him until it overwhelmed all of his senses. Having Dove all for himself was already proving addictive.

“Tell me, Dove, do you want to choke on my scent?”

No answer came—not verbally. The human’s dilated pupils, and the racing thoughts, though, were more than enough. Melchom had worked with less.

So Melchom grabbed his human’s hand and pulled him toward the bathroom. There was no need to make a mess, and it was clear to him that his Dove needed to get out of his head—both from the lingering ache from Melchom’s invasion and the ongoing anxiety that kept building and building. Sex—and kink—seemed to be the most bulletproof way to achieve that with him.

“Get in the tub, on your knees.” He might’ve helped steer him in the right direction. The claws in the bathtub would help elevate him enough so that those parted lips of his were at the perfect height. “Open your mouth, Dove.”

The human acquiesced beautifully, eyes glassy but unwavering, watching him. Melchom noticed his cock growing beneath all that lace. He would get him more of those clothes after today, maybe have him put on modeling shows for him.

In that position, Melchom could’ve just shoved his cock in that willing mouth. Dove wouldn’t have complained.

He didn’t, though. He drew it out, stroking his length lazily in the meantime. He could see the saliva building up in the corner of his human’s mouth, but Dove didn’t do anything about it.

It was intoxicating.

“Will this be your first time drinking piss, Dove?”

He knew the answer to the question, but the trepidation and fear that wafted off the human was too tantalizing to pass up.

“I… I’ve only done stuff under the chin.”

Dove shivered. His human was smart, knowing that wasn’t what they were going to be doing. Melchom grinned. He didn’t have to coax Dove into accepting the intrusion in his mouth, Dove’s tongue teasing the head of his cock before flattening.

“Ready?” Melchom kept a hand tangled in the human’s hair while the other fisted the base of his cock. He could’ve come right then and there, with the way Dove nodded so innocently, fear mingled with that natural submission. “Just swallow, little Dove. That’s all you have to do.”

Dove’s eyes watered as Melchom pushed his cock slightly deeper. He was desperate for it, though, his hips humping softly against empty air, pheromones hitting the air strong enough that Melchom regretted not being an incubus.

He let the stream flow out of him and into the human’s mouth then. His nostrils flared as he saw the human’s throat work relentlessly, swallowing every single drop even as a tear tracked down his cheek and his face grew red.

Melchom could help him breathe easier, expand his channels so he could swallow faster. He didn’t, though. For one thing, it was too soon after he prodded in his brain. Another incursion would be risking it, and it would be painful for the human.

For another, there was something just so primal about seeing the struggle, about seeing him scramble to obey Melchom.

To be owned by him.

The dirtiness of the act.

---