Page 85 of Gift for a Demon

“Faster,” Dove panted. “Please, please, please, faster.”

All the begging drew a groan out of Melchom. He obliged, of course. Tilting his angle just slightly, he thrust faster, hitting his human’s prostate harder with each shift of his hips.

Dove dissolved in moans and what he thought were babbles of gratitude, his nails digging into Melchom’s chest.

One of his favorite things about bedding the human was how primitively possessive he got. Knowing that the feeling was mutual settled something in him.

Melchom was close to filling him with seed. He felt his balls draw up, his whole body clenching right before.

“Fuck me hard,” Dove breathed. “Fuck me so hard it gets scary. Please.”

Melchom unloaded all his cum then. It was bittersweet, leaving him groaning and panting, watching as his Dove did the same. His human—his gift—was perfect, and forcing his hole to close down so that he didn’t lose any of his seed was one of the hottest things. Melchom wouldn’t change a thing about him, but… But Melchom had to atone for his sins, for the pain that he’d caused him. The one he had to be careful not to inflict again.

“Please don’t ask me that,” he managed to say after minutes of ragged breaths and faint moans every time his human wiggled his hips.

“Why?”

If Melchom didn’t know better, he would’ve said it sounded like the question brought the human to tears. That would make no sense, though.

“Just don’t.” He sighed. He wasn’t ready to unload his reasoning on Dove. He knew Dove wouldn’t get it, anyway. It was fine. “Just get some rest.”

It wasn’t a command spoken directly to his nervous system, but Melchom thought maybe the soft kisses Melchom was peppering him with might lull him into it, anyway.

* * *

“Daddy! You’re back.”

Melchom walked through the portal to the human realm as usual, his armor clanking and being way too noisy for his liking. He should get a few minions to research lighter armors that didn’t warn off their presence so easily.

“I’m here, human boy.”

David ran to him, scrambling to get rid of the flowing fabric covering his body. It mussed up his dark, short hair. He’d always been annoyingly clumsy, but Melchom thought it wasn’t too bad of a flaw to have.

The second he was naked, before Melchom had time to get rid of everything, David was presenting for him, on his knees and elbows. His eyes glinted with something. Arousal, probably.

Sometimes Melchom wished the human hadn’t learned to shield his thoughts from him. Human witches were a pain in the ass to deal with, and too low on his list of priorities.

“Fuck me, Daddy. Need to be filled every day, remember?”

Melchom grunted. He’d said that in the heat of a moment. He’d thought it would be hot, but lately it kept feeling like more of a chore. He didn’t dare say anything, though. It kept David happy, and that was what mattered.

Getting rid of all the pieces of steel, he grabbed the human’s waist and kneeled down. At this point, it was routine. First, Melchom pounded into David’s lithe body on the floor until he’d drawn that first, desperate orgasm out of him. Then, he grabbed the human and moved him so he was on his back in the hay bales he used to sleep in.

He thrust into him there, loving the discomfort mixed with the adoration in David’s face. It made things better. The niggling feeling at the back of his head that he was being used disappeared, too. He was King of Hell. A meek human wouldn’t be able to hurt him.

The human’s hands wrapped around his horns right away. They’d been doing that for the last couple of months, too. Melchom moaned, a shiver racking down his spine. The human wasn’t shy about it. He seemed to love how sensitive they were, how he could bring him to his knees. Melchom shot his seed inside the human. It didn’t matter that he’d just come before shifting them to the bed.

Usually, David gave him a break then, cooed about how good Daddy was for him. He didn’t this time, squeezing the elongated shells as if he was milking him. Orgasm after orgasm was drawn out of him. Melchom groaned, blinked hazily. He didn’t lose control like this, but the overstimulation threatened to be too much. Spots formed in his vision. David’s moans and whimpers and pleas for more were the last thing he heard before he passed out.

…

To this day, he wasn’t sure how the traitorous human had managed. Witches, he’d learned years later, but he never got the specifics of that spell. He only remembered waking up surrounded by the smell of blood. His own blood. His hands had gone to his head, expecting to feel ivory and perfectly cut rubies.

There was nothing.

His crown had been… yanked off him.

David wasn’t there, either. He’d soon learn he was at his own coronation. The King of Israel humans would marvel at for generations, just as Heaven had promised him in exchange for the crown.

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