Page 49 of Gift for a Demon

His Dove keened. Melchom didn’t care enough to break his promise about getting inside his head.

“Beg for my cock, Dove.”

It was clear to see his human was struggling to form words of any kind. Melchom enjoyed it way too much. He guessed it made sense. With two fingers thrusting in and out of his hole, and a third one teasing the entrance, it had to be the same stretch his Dove had gotten from other standard human hookups.

Melchom grunted. He didn’t like the way his gut revolted at the comparison with other humans. There would be no one else for Dove. No one to think about but Melchom.

His Dove was his. No logical concern or worry about his dignity mattered now. Only filling Dove did, stretching him enough to take his dick.

“Still with me, Dove?” Melchom used his sweetest voice as he deliberately rammed his prostate.

The human’s hands curled into fists, pants and grunts leaving his mouth. “Quit stalling.”

“I wouldn’t dream of stalling, gorgeous.” Melchom chuckled. If only the human knew. “Lean back and guide my cock to your hole, Dove. Show me you’re worthy of it.”

“Fuck off,” he groaned.

Of course he did. It would’ve had more bite to it if he wasn’t doing exactly as Melchom asked. On his knees, Dove rested one hand on Melchom’s thigh while the other curled around the base of his cock. Melchom held his breath as the human pushed himself down on it. To be fair, he wasn’t sure it was doable without his magick coming to play. He could feel threads of fear ricocheting off his Dove, too, traveling straight to his system.

His human did it, though. They both moaned when Melchom’s cock pushed past that first ring of muscle, Dove’s nails digging into his thigh. Melchom noticed the way Dove’s entire body drew taut, focused.

All of that to please the demon.

Melchom wrapped an arm around the human’s waist, keeping him in place and helping him unload some of that tension.

“I’ve got you, tiny Dove.”

He did. He only readjusted for one second to get the tub filled with water, but his focus was on the human. The human, and his cock as it was slowly encased inside of his Dove’s tight channel.

He didn’t know how he was managing to stay still, to not break the human’s ribcage as his arm clenched around the fragile form.

It took the human an excruciatingly long time to bottom out, a long time filled with groans and moans and whimpers—with the human playing with his cock and Melchom not being able to multitask enough to bat that hand away.

“Fuck,” Dove panted, circling his hips. There was sweat sticking to his hairline, sweat Melchom needed to lick.

To possess.

“My gift,” Melchom grunted, his voice more reverent than he cared to rectify.

His Dove seemed to be too far gone to even catch that. “Move,” he groaned. “Just, just fuck me. Please just fuck me. And don’t fucking hold back.”

The human’s voice sounded strained, but Melchom wasn’t so selfless as to heed the warning. No, he was going to obey the human. It soon became a need. Dove wasn’t the only one drowning in arousal, in desperation to get friction and all the pleasure that came from it.

But, fuck.

Melchom didn’t remember ever thrusting into a channel so tight, so unready, yet welcoming to his cock. Nostrils flaring, he knew he was giving the human quite a few bruises as the pads of his fingers pressed against his skin.

He didn’t care. He’d fix them tomorrow, but now… Now he needed to shift their angle, to grip the human tighter to piston in and out of him, thrusting against his prostate every single time. Even with his clumsy strokes, his human didn’t take long to come, emptying himself under the water.

It brought a new, primitive scent to the bathroom, one that only spurred Melchom further. If it wasn’t for the water, he’d shift him back to all fours and fuck into Dove’s hole until his human was jelly against the surface of the tub.

He might still do it.

Another day, when he could monitor Dove’s thoughts. Now, he moved the human’s hands to the edges of the tub, and shifted to his knees.

“Hold tight,” was the only warning he gave him.

Melchom tried to draw it out, to get more of his Dove’s pants and whimpers and groans. He couldn’t, his need to come inside the tight channel superseding everything else.

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