Page 18 of Loved By the Gargoyle

He paused. “Torture, then.”

“No. No torture.”

“I will clip my wings.”

“Xavir!”

He looked at me sternly. “I must pay for what I have done.”

“Xavir, that’s very sweet of you.” I think? I was betting this was also a cultural difference. “But it’s not necessary. Like I said, I enjoyed it. I just want to make things very clear about human customs. Consent is always key. Whatever you’d like to do to somebody, ask permission first.”

He contemplated this and seemed confused. “I have led armies to battle and killed many a demon. I never considered asking them if they would like to die before I skewered them with my horns.”

I stared at the horns in question, the sharp tips all but gleaming in the light of his chest.

I let out a breath. “I mean, consent when it comes to sex. Or even hugs, kisses, that type of thing. I guess if you battle in the Underworld you don’t have to ask permission to kill people?”

Was I really having this conversation with him? I honestly didn’t even really want to think about him killing people–er, demons–because that also wasn’t something that was smiled upon in human society. But we were from different dimensions. What I found normal, he probably didn’t.

“I see.” He nodded. Something in his tone shifted, and his wings rustled at his back and he leaned closer. “So, if I wanted to place my hands upon your breasts right now, I would request your permission to do so?”

I blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in conversation, but that primal desire burst to life between my legs and I was sure he could feel me growing damp against his waist. “Y-yes…”

“Hmm. And if I wanted to put my tongue inside the nectar between your thighs, I would ask for your consent, yes?”

“T-that’s right…”

“And if I would wish to mate you here and now, to officially make you my wife, would you allow that, my little flower?”

I swallowed past the rising nerves in my throat. The way his tone lowered to one of seduction was a crazy switch, and yet…

“Y-yes, Xavir.”

“Hmm.”

In a flash, he had me laying flat on my bed and he loomed over me, palms caging me in on either side as he pressed down onto the bed, grinding his body against mine. I shivered at the contact, feeling my pussy release an embarrassing amount of liquid desire.

“Would you give me your consent to explore your body with my hands?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed. “Only if you let me do the same.”

His dark eyes heated and he nodded. “Do with me what you wish… my wife.”

He ducked low and his tongue darted out, lapping at my nipple from over my night shirt. I could feel his warm wetness, teasing and sucking. There was a sharp bite of pain that was quickly soothed with his tongue. The feeling of pain with pleasure had a shot of desire running straight through me.

I moaned, reaching down to his horns and grasping them for leverage as I pushed myself up into his face.

Above me, he groaned, nudging his head into my palms.

“Wife,” he groaned. “Touching me there will be my undoing. If you want me to last, ease your grip.”

His horns were an erogenous zone. Got it. With a smirk, I teased, jerking my palms over him. His entire body stuttered against me, and he peeked up through hooded eyes.

“Wife,” he warned. “This is the first time I have ever been with anyone. I would like to not disappoint you on our first try. Please,” the word came out haggard, “take care with your wicked, talented hands.”

The very breath caught in my throat, and I found myself dropping my hands from his horns. “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“I have been with no one else. You will be my first, my last, my only.”