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The demon king raises his head. “Yes?”
“Would you eat my ex with me?”
A pearly smile. “Why, darling, you only ever needed to ask.”
Their lips and teeth collide; they are a mess of limbs atop the sheets. Lauren?iu finds that, after so long, he’s losing himself, losing that edge he always has that always keeps him on guard.
Lauren?iu finds himself on the pillows, back against the headboard as he balls his fists into Paimon’s shirt and lets a forked tongue slide past his teeth. Admittedly, in the light of the seashell lamp, he’s a little rough, buttons flying when he tears the shirt open. As their tongues join, Paimon tastes of brimstone and always, always blood; or maybe that’s Lauren?iu.
He cannot tell where he begins and Paimon ends until the fallen angel bows between Lauren?iu’s legs and, in a joint effort, they shuck off his boxers. He cannot help but admire the arch of Paimon’s back and his rippling muscles.
For a moment, he grows serious when he notices the two deep, long scars where his wings must’ve been; they look like healed burns.
When Paimon licks Lauren?iu’s swollen, sensitive clit, his cock, Lauren?iu tightens his hands over Paimon’s horns, which are cool to the touch.
When two fingers enter Lauren?iu, he’s already soaking wet, his arousal so strong that it nearly hurts, though Paimon is gentle when he moves inside Lauren?iu.
“More,” Lauren?iu rasps.
And two digits become three. Lauren?iu lets himself release a moan. Paimon’s tail lashes back and forth.
He relishes the feeling of being stretched; it’s been far too long. His legs thrash, and he works to keep himself steady by squeezing Paimon’s horns. He’s not sure if Paimon feels it, if horns have sensation, but he’s overcome and reaches to pull Paimon up in a messy kiss, tasting his own need, salt with a heavy coppery tinge. The mingling of that taste with Paimon’s smoky flavor is maddening.
Lauren?iu gasps inbetween kisses, “I want you inside me—just like this.”
With knitted golden brows, a show of mild concern, Paimon strokes Lauren?iu’s jaw. “Are you able to relax for me, darling?”
“Yes, yes, I can try.” He shifts himself into a more comfortable position, head on the pillows, as Paimon settles above him, arms bracketed by Lauren?iu’s sides.
A tickle—between them, under him, Paimon’s tail weaves around Lauren?iu’s midsection, the pressure only augmenting the incessant need, the pulsing in his navel. Paimon’s tip brushes against his throbbing nub, drawing a shout from both of them when Paimon slips into him.
Overwhelmed by the sensation of Paimon inside him, Lauren?iu opens his mouth and bites into the fallen angel’s shoulder. Blood wells hotly to meet his laving tongue. He drinks deeply of Paimon’s blood, which tastes of smoke and copper with a tinge of cloves and a flavor he cannot name. Something like the air, like what he imagines clouds taste like.
After, Paimon sleeps on his side, looking utterly at peace, but with the night still alive, Lauren?iu struggles to do more than doze for half an hour at most.
When Paimon stirs awake, Lauren?iu reaches out, and they cling to each other again in the dying moonlight, as if it’s their last night. While there are teeth and blood in their kisses, there’s a tentativeness and gentleness that he finds achingly sweet.
Lauren?iu can get used to this, and the fear stings his heart again.
They spend the rest of that night and that day together, until the room dims again.
But dread sinks in as Lauren?iu cannot get the man out his mind. The hunter. Anthony’s husband.
This isn’t him. Domestic. Lazily spending a night and day in bed with his lover. Besides, they aren’t normal men. Paimon is a King of Hell, and Lauren?iu is a damned soul. One of the favourites.
Once they go back to Hell, what then? Will Paimon give him a crown, or will Lauren?iu be—what? A fling? He wouldn’t care if Paimon still went to Lucifer or even the orgies. After all, fallen angels are devoted to Lucifer, and it’s not like being an eternal being makes monogamy an easy choice. But he can’t stand the idea of being forgotten.
He can’t spend time worrying over all this. Being lovesick. Stupid.
He has to finish what he started. The reason he’s here.
When they’re properly dressed, Lauren?iu just sits on the bed staring out. Hollowly, he stands, and Paimon comes over to him, asking, “Everything okay?”
Voice hard, Lauren?iu asks, “What are we?”
Paimon takes an uncharacteristically long time to answer, looking down and then back up at Lauren?iu, who’s startled by the serious intensity in his poppy-red eyes.
“I enjoy our talks. Your company, even when you’re not speaking at all. I like learning about you, about your love of John Keats and your ill-fated commitment to the Falcons. I love being with you.”
