Balakai gets his wish. 

Word Count: 9743 (it's all sex guys)

Content Warnings: Gore, blood, and violence all during sex.  Denial, spanking, crops, degredation, D/s, altered states of conciousness, biting, breathplay, oral.  I think that's everything.

Balakai didn't gain his feet quite as quickly as he might have but made Griffin draw him up, savoring the pull of the collar around his neck. The way he could almost feel it all the way down his spine, drawing his vertebrae apart in a delightful little stretch. He licked his lips, chasing the taste of Griffin's kiss, and swayed into his arms once they were standing, burying his face in against his chest, nuzzling into the opening of his shirt to put lips on the skin beneath. His fingers rose, slowly, to catch in the few buttons that were actually done up, tugging a little at them. As if he couldn't quite recall how to open them without looking at what his hands were doing.

He had to be herded, guided by Griffin's arms. He was a demon, sure as sure, but Faery wine was a different thing entirely to mortal spirits. The magic of it bypassed the strength of constitution that made him inclined to shrug off poison and drugs. It was enchantment, and that he had no proof against. Perhaps not so smart to give himself over completely into Griffin's hands when he had no real surety that the witch would not simply kill him. But then he'd never been known for making good choices and at some point, though he could not pinpoint when, it became clear that the witch rather enjoyed his company. That was enough to promise a weird kind of safety to them both.

He did not see much of the room as they entered, his attention too caught up in Griffin still, but he spotted the bed with its black sheets and beautiful wrought work frame. He took a swaying step out of Griffin's arms, to the end of the length of the leash and reached up to curl his fingers around one of the vine-like curves of metal at the top of the post. It was high enough that he had to go up on his toes and stretch the length of his body out in a sinuous line.

Griffin took in the sight of him and just reveled in it for a long moment, the way Balakai looked so pliant and lost. He would find him, though. And keep him. He gave a sigh that was almost soft and the expression on his handsome face was tender. Had he seen it for himself he would have been surprised. When he could stand to be parted from Balakai’s skin no longer, he came up behind the hellhound and ran caressing hands up along his hips and ribs, pulled him to him along the open front of his shirt where scarred skin was still soft, and nuzzled into the place where neck met shoulder. He could still smell the metallic of blood, and the demon who would always be a lingering hint of sulfur, and the magic that suffused everything around them.

Balakai had asked for ruin and it was an art to which Griffin was skilled and dedicated. The witch didn't hesitate as he drew a step back and set hands on the sheer fabric of the demon's top and ripped it down the middle of the back, the sound of shredding fabric almost obscene in the quiet of the dimly lit room. Griffin wanted to dirty him up, make the demon so vile even hell itself wouldn't take him. It rose up his spine like a shiver of fire and demand, the way his whole self craved him; to hear him cry and beg and scream. He wanted to feel him choke on his cock and still come back for more. Needed to touch him as Balakai broke under his hands. He wanted to see him hurt and bleed and filthy, leaking and debased and so goddamned wanton for more that even the demon wouldn't know if he'd lost his mind.

Griffin ripped the skirt from his body just the same, careless of the utter destruction of it. Then he grabbed him by his hair and turned him around, forcing him to his knees. Griffin looked down at the lovely picture of the demon there at his feet, blood still staining his fair skin in places, the malachite of his ink profane darkness against the pale of it and he hungered. He wanted to leave bruises and proof that he had been there, sink his teeth into him and feel the muscle give beneath them.

Balakai made a small grunt of protest as the silk pulled at his skin and was ripped away. Red blood stains left behind on his skin where it had penetrated the thin silk. He swayed a little under the force of it, and his body kept moving even as the witch's attention turned to his skirt, fingers still curled in the iron work of the bed frame. The metal bruised as he was abruptly jerked back from the frame and twisted.  The demon didn't try to save himself, loose body just crumpled to the ground. His knees hit the plush rug hard, and he made Griffin catch him, keep his balance. Hands falling loosely into his lap, palms turned up and face tilted up. His eyes were shadowed by the dark of his lashes, half-closed. It made the shift in color almost hard to follow as it slid through amber to deep ember orange and then through to garnet.

Griffin grabbed Balakai's jaw and squeezed it to make him open his mouth as he shoved his first two fingers down his throat and fucked it with them, waiting to hear him gag and choke. Mismatched eyes burned and did not blink as he watched him, would not relinquish the shadowed garnet of them.  There was no resistance under the hand that grabbed his jaw. Rather he leaned into the bruising hard of it as his pale lips parted.

He didn't gag. Balakai's tongue curled around the invading fingers, the silver of his piercing flashing in the light. His throat worked, swallowed hungrily with little suckling sounds broken only by eager whines.

Griffin’s cock gave a jump. There was something so unholy beautiful about the sight of Balakai there on his knees with his fingers down his throat. Used not for his own pleasure, for Griffin's. 

It was glorious.

It wasn’t enough.

He felt the click of the piercing over his fingers, hot mouth around them sucking like a good bitch. His gaze did not waver, nor the hard sharpness in it.

"You are so pretty there on your knees, sucking me like you'll die without me. Make daddy believe it." Griffin's voice was full of wine and want, but something darker too, like oil and shadow and violence only just contained.

The demon’s back arched and he pushed himself up in a little eager surge as he tried to take more of Griffin's fingers into his throat. He whined, a high sound that just leaked out around the penetration of his throat. His cock was sharply outlined in the white jock strap that was the only thing left to him besides the black leather boots, heels tucked under his ass as if to give a little lift and push the arch of him a little further.

His hands shifted from where they'd lain softly in his lap. Crept instead to slide over the toe of one of Griffin's boots. His fingers curled around his heel and ankle, and he slowly worked himself a little closer to Griffin. Hands slid a little farther up. Body moved a little closer. Breath whining in his throat. Needy. Until he straddled Griffin's boot and could grind himself shamelessly against it. His hands slid higher still, ghosting over Griffin's thigh. Fingertips kneading, sharp nails pricking the tight fitted leather.

It was inordinately challenging to remind himself not to rush. To take his time; that he could afford to give the time to take Balakai apart one piece at a time.  He smiled down at Balakai indulgently. 

"Good boy. Fuck yourself against me, but do not come." He didn't need to leave a threat on the laden air. It was clear in his expression and in how his fingers curled down Balakai's throat.

Balakai's garnet eyes watched Griffin from beneath the sparse veil of black lashes, fixed on his face. Watching the jewel-bright eyes gone dark as he ground himself against Griffin's boot. He sucked in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring wide. Flooded with the scent of ozone and leather mixed with the peculiar herbal scent of Griffin's skin. He rutted, body writhing in a sinuous line.

 His nails dug in for purchase, piercing through the thin leather that hugged the witch's thigh and into skin beneath. His eyes closed, a kind of blissful quiet on his face as he let himself be used, the taste of Griffin's fingers under his tongue adding a note like good bitters to the smoke and fruity sweetness of the wine that still lingered.

The pain of the claws in his hip was a delightful contrast to the building fire of want that made Griffin drip like a faucet. He watched the demon with burning eyes and when he saw that tension in him, in the moment that he was so very close, he ripped his fingers out of his mouth and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him back to his feet as his other hand reached out to squeeze the hard cock that was leaking with near climax. He capped the head of it with his hand, his own sharp nails almost biting into the sensitive and tender flesh there through the jock.

"Mine," he almost growled against Balakai's ear as he pulled him to him, just holding him as he felt the demon's body writhe in want for the ruined orgasm. He drank down his sounds and brought them a step back so that he could fall lightly onto the end of the bed, draping Balakai over his knees. He brought his hand down in a sharp smack against his taut ass, watching as the pale skin there went red with the imprint of his hand.

Balakai whined and tried to grab at him, to keep from being pulled up. He didn't fight hard though, letting himself dangle in Griffin's grip, pawing at the silk shirt that decorated his chest more than covered it, the sensation of the crimson fabric under his fingertips enough to raise goosebumps on his pale skin. His hips bucked into Griffin's hand regardless of the sharpness of nails and he made a little choked keening sound. 

The first spank made him buck. The demon grabbed at Griffin again, nails scarring the leather of the perfectly fit riding boots as he sought a grip. His boots scrabbled for purchase, though he wasn't really tall enough, trying to push his ass up, inviting the touch. The rough handling did very little to abate the closeness of orgasm though and he humped against Griffin's thigh. "Pleeeeeease, Griffin, please."

The witch chuckled low in his throat, lips curled in a pleased, if wicked, little grin. He enjoyed the sound of Balakai's desire as it dripped from the plea in his words. He liked more that he did not have to command him to beg, but that the demon either knew what he wanted from him, or was too lost in his own desire to do anything else.

He was happy to oblige.

"Do not come without my permission."

He didn't stop Balakai from moving against his hip, instead moving with him, his own desire bringing bright color to his pale cheeks. Griffin didn't hesitate to bring his hand back down on the demon's ass, other hand supporting him a little so that he would not simply slide off of Griffin's lap. Over and over he spanked him, skin stinging on the palm of his hand, only minimally protected by the leather of his glove. 

Balakai whined and arched and wiggled under the blows, words reduced to little desperate moans. The sting of the blows seemed bright, like pinpoints of light. Heat radiated from his ass, suffused his skin and made him feel like he might float free of it if not for Griffin's gloved hand holding him in place.

Red, then near purple bloomed across the canvas of Balakai's skin and it was so damned pretty that Griffin couldn't wait to run his tongue along it, to fuck Balakai with it as he squirmed.

Somewhere, as the sting transmuted to else and the heat turned to ache and Griffin's tongue traced the edges of the deepening bruises on the muscle of him, his back arched sharply, head tilting back to turn his face up towards the ceiling, lips parted but only a long, low moan escaping him. Heat spilled against Griffin's thigh and Balakai shuddered as he relaxed over the witch's lap. 

Griffin went still and cold. His hand went still on the glowing skin, and for several long heartbeats there was silence. Something in the feeling of the room shifted, as if the shadows started to slither away, coiling over one another to flee the pressure that began to radiate out from Griffin as he roughly shoved a hand into Balakai's hair and yanked him off his lap and sent him back to his knees.

"Clean up your mess, mongrel," he snarled, fury carved into the lines of his lovely face.

Balakai went sprawling, the movement aborted abruptly by Griffin's hand in his hair. In the face of the man's fury, the demon laughed. It was delighted, husky sound as he leaned into the hand in his hair, shifting his legs more under him. He trailed his hands down his chest and belly, arching in a sensual display as he collected the mess that had escaped the jock and smeared across his own belly. He lifted his fingers to his face and sucked them clean.

Shifting his balance to all fours, he slunk the short distance back to Griffin's lap, nuzzling along his leg until he encountered the mess he'd left. He didn't bother to immediately lick it up but nuzzled his face into it, letting it smear across his lips and cheek until his tongue flicked out and licked a long line over the soft leather. He moaned at the taste of it, his own cum and the leather beneath.

The witch watched with an air of dispassion, and might have been convincing if it were not for the wetness that pooled between his own legs and the way his fingers twitched as he kept from reaching down to unlace his pants and relieve some of the pressure there. His gaze was fixed and he was only a little mollified that this was an instruction that Balakai followed.

He could feel the heat of the demon's tongue through the leather of his pants, could smell the bitter of cum and desire. When Balakai had cleaned up his pants, he grabbed the leash that hung from his collar and hauled him up by it as he stood. Face to face for a moment, he leaned in and kissed him deeply, tasting the demon on the kiss and diving into his mouth. He ground against him for a long moment, just breathing him in, before he stepped aside and gave the demon a little shove toward the bed.

"Hands up as high as you can reach."

He bent down and unfastened Balakai's boots and slid up his body from behind him. He hooked his thumbs around the straps of his jock at his hips and slid them down, pulling it away and tossing it into the pile with the rest of Balakai's discarded clothing. He bent to remove Balakai’s boots as well, leaving him utterly naked and lovely. He admired the form of the other man stretched out like that.

Griffin reached out above him and looped the end of the leash around one of the strong, metal branches that made the decoration of the four posted bed and held up the canopy, pulled it tight so that Balakai had to balance on his tiptoes to breathe as the leash pulled against the collar at his throat. And then he was gone, stepped back to leave the demon bereft of his warmth and comfort, absent the soft shape of him pressed against him. It was only a minute or two that he was gone and a kind of spicy and aromatic fragrance filled the room. Gentleness as a preamble to violence. It thrummed in every curve of the human, unmistakable.

Griffin didn’t rush, taking time to rub exotic oil into all of the demon's muscles. He ran hands down his arms, the muscles corded there that were often belied by the slight of him. Because Balakai seemed small. He was also wildly strong. The scent of the oil filled the air around them and contributed to the kind of suspended in time of it all. This was a faery place, after all, and it was hard to know how much time passed outside.

He didn't actually care.

Hands ran along Balakai’s shoulders and the demon pressed into him to add his warmth to the oil as hands slid around the front of him. He caressed his nipples ever so gently, a smile curling across his lips as he set them to the oiled shoulders, tracing a trail of kisses there. Hands covered every inch of him.  Ribs and back and he even ran them over the spent cock of the demon but did not spend more time there than anywhere else, only enough to tease.

Balakai moaned, low and soft and sweet as Griffin rubbed the oil over his inflamed skin, but did not move from the way he hung almost limp. As though were it not for the collar and the way his fingers were just crooked over the metal work, he would not have been remotely on his feet. As it was, his knees trembled a little and threatened not to hold his weight, nor did his grip look remotely sure.

Griffin shrugged out of his own shirt, the darkness hiding most of his scars. Only the really recent ones stood out livid red against pale skin. With purpose, he went over to a black cabinet and opened it, drawing out a few things after a moment of consideration, setting them on a table within reach of the end of the bed. 

Griffin's absence made Balakai stir with a soft, needy whine. He didn't look for him this time, just twisted this way and that in space, writhing as though he might crawl out of his skin for lack of touch though there was a certain lack of urgency to it. Like the demon moved too slowly, as though all his reactions came from a great distance and took a long time to actually move him.

Then Griffin was back and pressing the lithe line of himself against the demon, hand finding his cock once more. He slid a cool, metal ring around it and tucked him into it so that it fit tightly to the demon’s base. He nuzzled under his ear again, just brushing his lips like whispers along his neck as he slowly moved his hand along the growing hardness of him.

 Balakai jumped at the touch of cold metal. Something like a protest, but no real, intelligible words escaped him. He struggled a little but with no real force or strength as the ring was settled into place.

Griffin attended him with deliberate slowness, the build of it slow agony. He was sweet and soft until he could feel the demon get close, then he stopped. There was a heartbeat of pause before he brought the end of his crop down on the demon's already bruised ass, and the strikes did not relent, even and hard.

He writhed against the witch and when he stopped shy of bringing him the demon sobbed a little and whimpered at the blow. "Please," Balakai whimpered, "more?"

Griffin obliged.

Balakai found the rhythm of the thing, sinking into the sting and sound and the why he could almost feel it as the strikes rippled through his body, as though he were a pond and Griffin were skipping stones along his surface. Gradually he quieted, eyes closed and head hanging into the restraint of the leash, body swaying into each impact almost as if by instinct. Only soft grunts of air driven from him by each swing and the shine of the oil almost hid the fine sheen of sweat building on his body as the feelings of cold were chased away and left him to flame, heat rising under his skin like fever. Mind quiet.

Griffin knew people who could wax poetic about the beauty in pain and relenting. He was not one of them. There was no mysticism in it for him, only raw and base sensation. He did not seek to reach a particular space or frame of mine or disconnect. Not really. He would always be chasing destruction. He would always crave that which above all else was denied him.

That was not to say that he did not want to crawl into Balakai's skin right now and feel the sting of agony with him. Part of him did. Griffin did not admit it, but there was little he craved so much as to be truly debased. To take a little of the peace on Balakai’s face for himself. To have someone, anyone, who could truly understand that there was no bottom for him. When death was not a barrier to the depths to which he could sink, he could fall endlessly.  

And love it.

Now, however, he had promised ruin to another, and he'd had long years to hone this art as well. He brought the crop down on Balakai's back and watched the criss-cross of stripes form over the malachite ink there. Until some of the welts split and wept blood in delicate lines. Time slipped away from them.  Griffin savaged his soft inner thighs, his back, his arms, the bottoms of his feet as he tried to keep them. He punished the demon for disobeying his command and taking his pleasure against Griffin's order.

Balakai swayed under the blows like he didn't have the will or strength to stand under them. Except even in the pauses between, he moved. As though he moved in a slow dance to the music of his own pulse. Only the hardest blows, the ones that broke skin or hit too close to his genitals or the soles of his feet, made him cry out and stiffen. Broke the cadence and made him throw back his head as it cusped over the threshold of pain that just rocked through him. When the crop hit the soles of his feet again he twisted a little, teeth clicking on empty air though he wasn't truly trying to escape.

He pinned his knees together to protect the most sensitive parts of his thighs, twisting to foil the strikes and take them on hip and outer thigh when the pain truly became too much to simply drive him under. He throbbed achingly in the metal cockring, pre drooling from the tip of him as it bobbed with his writhing.

Griffin could not help himself. He leaned forward and ran his tongue up Balakai's spine, wrapping a gloved hand around to the front of him to keep the demon from squirming away. He tasted the blood and sweat and oil, and always the hint of sulfur underneath that was all Balakai. He licked up his back until he reached his shoulder where he sank his teeth into the flesh there, worrying it and drawing red to the surface.

He nuzzled into the crook of Balakai's neck while he nipped and sucked at his skin, one hand sliding down to gently run soft, leather gloved fingers down to take Balakai's weeping cock in his hand, the other traveled up to wrap around his chest and pull at one of the pert nipples there. He ground against his ass and stroked him slowly, drawing him up to climax with agonizing patience. 

Balakai writhed helplessly, hopelessly, caught between Griffin grinding into him and the hand stroking him. It hurt gloriously, the ache of the ring maybe a little too tight, pushing his balls forward and darkening the color of his cock. Making it so agonizingly hard it was impossible to think even if his mind hadn’t been consumed by the way Griffin touched him, the different sensations of leather and skin and lips and teeth and the lingering memory of the wine.

Just as the demon neared his second peak, Griffin reached up and pulled the leash up short, almost pulling Balakai off of his feet.

"No."

Griffin kept up the pressure, his teeth not quite breaking skin.

Balakai couldn't breathe. It hitched a choked whine out of him at Griffin's demand. His fingers tightened reflexively on the wrought iron, and for a moment he lifted himself, muscle rippling, automatic response to seek breath. Griffin kept the leash tight, collar biting into his neck, crushing his throat and there was the most bizarre, delicious sensation of his spine stretching as if there were a little more space between each vertebrae.

His grip eased and he just... stopped fighting. Sank into the collar's choking hold. He blinked slowly, gaze unfocused and glassy as he choked, lips parted and tongue lolling. He began to twitch a little, as his face flushed red.

Griffin released the leash enough for him to breathe and Balakai didn't catch himself, numb fingers slipping from the wrought iron as he collapsed back against Griffin's chest. Each time he drew a deep breath, on the exhale it was growl edged but not in anger. Almost a purr or croon.

"Everything of you belongs to me here," Griffin whispered into his ear as he kissed along Balakai's throat, holding him in his arms and supporting the demon's not insignificant weight. It was easy to forget that for the slight and near delicate of him, Balakai was hard muscled and so much more than he appeared. "Even the very breath of your lungs."

He held the demon to him, uncaring that the blood of Balakai's back now stained his chest. There were bruises on his arms and legs, evidence of where the crop had fallen over and over. Color was spilled all over Balakai's skin, more even than just the ink there, and it satisfied some primal and dark part of Griffin that wanted to mark him up. He wanted Balakai to smell of him; sex and violence. Wanted his name to fall like a curse and benediction from those lips bruised red with kissing and begging.

Balakai wanted to crawl inside Griffin's skin and curl up in the heat of him, pressed so tight to the heat of his own skin and chasing away the cool of the room's air that chilled the sweat on him. The pressure hurt where it pushed on the bruises, but it wasn't a bad hurt. It was a hurt that made him want to press tighter back into Griffin, to feel the hardness of his belt buckle dig into the welts on his ass just so.

A gloved hand snaked up Balakai's front to once more take his straining, hard cock in hand, huge and heavy and dark with need and tension. The other was fingers wrapped around Balakai's neck and he squeezed, gazing into his face as Griffin watched him, eyes glinting and expression curious.

The demon bucked into his hand with a cry, hands scrabbling for Griffin's wrist. To keep him from pulling away, no matter that he ached and every touch made him feel like he had no skin left. His back arched and he pressed his throat into Griffin's hand until his breath wheezed, eyes closed. Blissful even as he squirmed. 

"Griffin-" there was little sound to the word squeeze out from air-starved lungs, rolling off his tongue in a whining plea.

But god if words alone could have made him come, Griffin would have on the desperate sound of his name on Balakai's lips. His own breath stuttered in his chest and the roll of heat that tore through him pulled an utterly helpless shudder through him. He let up just a little on the demon's throat so that he could tilt Balakai’s head back and kiss him, brutal and demanding while his hand fisted the cock to bring him up once more.

"Don't worry, baby. Daddy's going to fuck you so good. Gonna fill you just everywhere until that name's the only thing you remember. I'm going to make you such a beautiful, weeping mess and take such ruinous care of you. Just like you asked."

Griffin licked hard into Balakai's mouth, tasting and claiming all of him, tongue waging war and granting no peace in its wake. He kissed him until he felt Balakai's balls start to tighten and then just let his hand fall away, sucking the breath from his lungs as he devoured the whine of loss as he denied the demon his release yet again.

His breath broke in a sob when Griffin's hand slid away again just as he arched up towards the peak and his cock gave a little throb, a long line of cum drooling from the end though it lacked force. As though the witch had managed to judge just that moment to rob his orgasm of its strength, let the bodily function finish half-heartedly without any real feeling of release.

"Pllllleeeeeaaaasssseee." He begged into the kiss, though the sound of it was muffled by the play of tongue and lips. His hips jerked a little, helplessly, and his nails dug into Griffin's forearm as he tugged half-heartedly at his arm, trying to draw his hand back to his shaft. He didn't reach to touch himself, though. Despite that his hands were still free.

Griffin could not hold the full weight of the demon too much longer and so he turned them so that his back was to the bed. 

"Not yet, pretty. Patience." He smiled darkly and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other in a graceful motion. "Take off my clothes. Slowly. Let me see you."

It took Balakai a moment to catch his balance, sinking first into Griffin's lap. He blinked hazily up at the witch. He slid boneless from his lap to the ground and rolled back to his knees. His toes curled and flexed, feeling the taut pull of abused skin on the soles of his feet. He abased himself, leaning low to slide his hands around the sculpted leather of the boots. He didn't immediately seek the zipper at the back but ran his tongue along the arch, lifting his ass in the air as he did.

Griffin leaned back lazily on an arm, watching Balakai and admiring his handiwork. He enjoyed that look on his face, the way his pupils were blown wide and how he moved to obey Griffin's will. It made his cock ache, wanting to be touched.

All in good time. As he'd reminded the demon just a moment ago.

He didn't make it easier for Balakai to do as he asked, but delighted in this slow play. It made his want burn deep and unrelenting, almost painful. An equal to Balakai in many ways. 

"God you're fucking beautiful," he heard himself say. "I can't wait to get a cock in you and stretch you so wide while I pound into you."

His smile was carnivorous, and while he seemed at ease, there was something in his eyes that did not rest. That wanted more.

Balakai made small, soft noises as he mouthed over the supple boot leather, nuzzling and tasting until finally he reached the zipper and drew it down. As much care as he'd shown in the taking off, once the boot was free of Griffin he tossed it haphazardly over his shoulder and turned his attention instead to the other boot. Slowly. Time had no real meaning. It flowed around him but did not touch him. He just followed impulse as it came to him, when to move, when to rise. Taking cues from his own urges and from the way Griffin's eyes tracked him, the scent of him, and the little twitch of muscle here, shift of body there.

Boots dealt with, he crawled between Griffin's knees and nuzzled up his thighs. He mouthed over the laces on his crotch, giving a low, satisfied moan as he lingered there for a while, pressing the ball of his piercing against the leather between the witch's legs just below the laces in slow laps. Hands kneading his thighs. 

He pressed up into Balakai's tongue, felt the heat of it through the thin and supple leather. He was hard and dripping, wanted him just as badly as he was wanted. It had been a long time since he'd been with a partner consistently enough, and with enough trust, to really learn them. Learn what they liked and how, what they wanted and where. It made it almost impossible to remain mostly still and lazy because what he wanted to do was shove Balakai's face into his cunt and have him fuck it with that sinful tongue of his.

All in good time.

When the demon finally moved on, he started for Griffin's belt buckle, then paused. A flicker passed through his wide blown eyes and he tilted his head, giving a little, low growl as he hunted for words, thought moving slow as syrup.

"S'it safe? Can smell... your magic on it."

"It is safe for you, yes." His fingers curled against Balakai's jaw. "Others might find themselves reduced to a pile of ash. Luckily, you are adorable."

Taking for granted that Griffin was speaking the truth, the demon leaned forward. Using his hands only as much as he needed too, he used teeth and lips to pull the belt open. Then attended to the laces which he didn't need his hands for. Instead he slid his thumbs down to stroke between Griffin's legs as he tugged the laces loose. He took longer than he needed too, lips soft and eyes hooded and downcast except for the occasional glance shot up the length of the witch's body.

As the pants began to loosen his hands slid under the witch's hips, hooking fingers into the waistband and lifting him just enough to inch the leather down. Backing up slowly to allow Griffin's knees to come together so he could draw them down, lips brushing the skin so exposed as he retreated.

There was a softness to this after the violence of his earlier anger. He liked Balakai being pretty and attentive and on his knees. Griffin knew that this would not last. That it was just as likely that next time it would be him being used and savaged. The thought sent a chill down his spine as anticipation made him roll his hips.

All that was left were his gloves, tightly buttoned at his wrist and so perfectly fit to his skin they could have been his own. He held out a hand for Balakai to attend, the other caressing his jaw fondly. 

"You are doing beautifully," he encouraged.

Balakai crawled back to him, leaving the leather pants in a pool. He cupped Griffin's hand between his own, lips closing around the tip of his fingers, suckling first the index, then the middle. His fingers found the little buttons, working them open. With little nips of his teeth at the tips of the fingers, he began to ease the tightly fitted glove off. Once it was sufficiently loose, he took a slightly greater hold on it with his teeth and gently drew the glove off.

He took his time to curl his tongue, too long and pointed, around Griffin's fingers and hand. Tasting and questing, before he turned and attended to the other glove. As he was getting the buttons loose, he tilted his head a little to look at Griffin under his lashes. He licked his lips and his gaze fell to Griffin's wet, aroused cunt and the jut of his clit parted between his lips.

"Please let me taste you?" The words were slow and rumbled low in his chest, edged with a little whine.

Griffin almost denied him. He wanted to hear him beg and plead. He wanted to hear Balakai cry and taste his tears. And he had all night in which to enjoy those things. Truly, there was no reason to deny himself.

"You have my permission," the witch chuckled with a little sigh, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could watch. He couldn't get enough of those dark eyes, the feel of the rumble in Balakai's chest. "But, if you make yourself come, I will string you up to the chandelier and hand you over to the Trolls that Pandora keeps. They'll ruin your ass in a not fun way that no amount of shape shifting will fix, I assure you."

Maybe he was joking. The light reflected in his eyes said it was unlikely.

There was a flash of predatory eagerness in the garnet deep eyes, but he didn't immediately jump to it. He finished with the glove first. Slid his hands over Griffin's thighs and followed his hands with his mouth, lapping over the places his nails had brought little bright points of red to the surface. He inhaled slow, deep, let the scent of his arousal and sweat just fill him. As he breathed it in, it felt like it filled his head as well as his lungs and he whined in soft eagerness.

"Yes, Griffin," he murmured soft acknowledgement this time to the command, though it made him squeeze his thighs together. His swollen cock still ached, but without Griffin's hands on him, it was easier to ignore. Easier to instead nuzzle into the cleft between his legs and run the tip of his tongue up Griffin's slit. He lapped between his inner and outer lips, tracing the folds and playing with the hood and exposed erect head of his cock.

The witch's head fell back, a long, low moan echoing in the room and swallowed by the shadows. It felt so fucking good, the way Balakai tasted and tested him, how he was eager, but not sloppy. Griffin had little patience for a bad fuck. Less for anyone who didn't know their way around a cunt. Balakai was an artist and there was no restraint in Griffin as he turned almost pliant under the pleasure after so much build up.

"Fuck, Balakai, yessssss." His voice was quiet and heavy, thighs already a slick mess from the dripping of him after their play so far. There had been murder and magic and drink of rarest sorts. The air was heady with magic and sex and the promise of so much more to come.

"Fuck me with that filthy tongue of yours, baby. Show me how grateful you are for the pretty marks I gave you."

Balakai made a soft, pleased sound and did as he was told. He plunged his tongue into Griffn's cunt, the muscular, tapered tip curling to stroke his inner walls, seeking the inner place that made him jump and twitch. He rolled his piercing against the head of his clit before pushing deeper, spreading Griffin wider around the muscular, dextrous organ.

The sounds he made changed to little, sharp breaths stolen where he could and the wet sound of his mouth on Griffin. He didn't try to hold Griffin still or pin his hips. Just used his hands to hold the lips of his cunt open for his mouth to ravage.

Griffin drew in a sharp breath and for a moment, was bereft of all other reason. The depth of Balakai's tongue, the inhuman strength, shape, and dexterity of it was like little else. He howled his pleasure and surged against him, pushing him deeper, wanting, needing more. He wanted to feel that tongue plunge clear into his ribs, so deep there would be no hope of survival. His aching hole was filled with him and it took Griffin almost embarrassingly little time before he went still for a heartbeat, drawing in a breath, and then crashing as his whole body seized up with his thunderous orgasm.

His knees came together, thighs holding Balakai in place as he rode out the climax and would not let him draw out that magnificent tongue. His head swam with giddy pleasure, whole body suffused with warmth and the high that no other drug could provide.

Balakai surged a little in place, pressing into his cunt. His tongue continued to work and if anything he increased his efforts, swallowing the flood of moisture that suddenly rushed his tongue and slicked his chin, mingling with the saliva that had already drooled down his throat. His whole body gave little, urgent surges of movement, rising slightly off his heels before he settled again.

Balakai brought him over two more times, Griffin's legs shaking and heart racing, before he fisted a hand in his hair and drew him up, looking into his eyes and giving him a wicked, if somewhat spacey, smile. He let his head fall back, tension gone out of him, and Griffin laughed a little absently, almost a giggle.

"There's a cabinet across the way with a vast array of straps to choose from. You've been so good I'll let you pick how I'm going to fuck you next. And bring over the bottle of wine and pour us a glass."

Balakai fought him just a little when he was pulled back, resisting just enough to make Griffin really drag at his hair. Then he relented and gave a pleased sigh, licking his lips. It did little to clean his face, slick with Griffin's cum. It took him a long moment to understand the words and then he flashed a bright little smile. He sank back when Griffin released him and got to his feet with a slow, muscled grace. He moved carefully, as if not entirely steady on his feet, and went first to the wine. He brought it back to the table by the bed and with great concentration poured a single glass. That he brought to Griffin, cradled between both hands. He sank to his knees and offered it up to him.

Griffin watched the demon move, saw how hard he had to work just to accomplish the seemingly simple task, and was delighted. It was lovely to see Balakai so caught in the throes of desire and play. It grounded the witch in them, satisfied him in ways in which he rarely had the opportunity to enjoy. A random fuck was fun, but this was decadent. It scratched a different itch and answered the need in some deeper part of him that he usually neglected because Griffin did not trust people. It took a lot to make himself exposed enough to fully give himself over to nights like this.

Despite being a demon, Griffin trusted Balakai in certain things. This was one.

He reached out when the demon sank to his knees beside the bed, lifting the glass. Griffin caught and held Balakai's gaze and drank him in as much as he did the fruit forward wine. It was not magical in any way, just earthly, but still felt good as it slid down his throat. He took another long sip and pulled Balakai to him, drawing him into a deep kiss and pushing the dark drink into the demon's mouth. He moaned into the kiss and gave an almost contented sigh.

"Now, go pick a cock for me on which to impale you, beautiful. I want to see tears in your eyes and listen to your voice break while you come on my dick."

Balakai crawled into his lap as he was drawn into the kiss, pressing skin to skin as if he couldn't but try to press himself as closely as possible. He moaned into the possessive, claiming aggression of it. He tasted like wine and sin and still the hints of smoke and flowers and Balakai chased the notes until Griffin broke away from him. He tilted his head a little to the side, lips pursing into the tiniest pout.

He climbed down from Griffin's lap and on all fours slunk across the room to the cabinet he'd pointed out. He rose high on his knees to open it and considered. He considered for a long moment. Swaying slowly in place, head tilted just a little to one side. Finally, he pulled himself up just enough to reach and wrapped his mouth around the one he wanted. The silicone gave pleasantly between his blunt teeth, not too soft. It stretched his jaw wide and almost defied his ability to carry it in his mouth like a dog fetching a favorite toy.  It felt good.

The demon dropped the toy in Griffin's lap and nuzzled close, running his tongue over it. Not modelled after any earthly thing, but slightly tapered at the head and bulging thick along the shaft, only to taper again near the base. Not too aggressively textured past the head, but big. He knew what he liked. Eyes only just open, he slid his tongue along the cock like worship.

Griffin's cunt pulsed with desire.  He reached for the harness on the bedside table and made quick work of strapping the cock on and fitting it to himself before he settled back on the edge of the bed.

"Suck it. I want to watch you." His eyes shined, his knees far apart to accommodate the demon.

Balakai braced his hands on Griffin's thighs and rubbed his face down the length of the shaft, dipping between Griffin's legs so first he could taste where it the straps of the harness squeezed his lips, tongue bathing the joining of them. Then he worked his way up the shaft to the head, leaving a shining trail of saliva along the way, tongue curling around the shaft as he went. He reached the head and for a moment paused. He looked up at Griffin under the veil of his lashes, mouth open and the head of the cock resting on his tongue, just shy of the silver piercing, the pointed tip curling around the sculpted glans.

"What are you waiting for?" Griffin almost growled, heat pooling already at the core of him. He loved those hellfire eyes of Balakai's as he held his own, the way he teased and fought him for every little bit of control. He wasn't afraid of crossing Balakai's boundaries... he didn't have any that Griffin had found. He wasn't sure he'd have cared if he did. They had not made a habit of moderation or gentleness.

It was glorious.

Griffin thrust into Balakai's mouth, not as far as he might have liked because, frankly, in human form there was no way he could have accommodated the enormous cock without breaking his jaw. He fucked his mouth, eyes locked, lips parted in a pleased grin. 

Saliva dripped from Balakai's chin, shone on his chest as the witch fucked him relentlessly. He wasn't ready for Griffin's impatience. He choked on the first thrust, Griffin's hand fisted in the platinum blond of his hair. He gave a little, aborted whine, nails sinking into Griffin's thighs. He shifted his body even while Griffin rammed his throat, finding a position he could more easily brace in, shifting the angle to try and allow the mass of it to more easily stretch his jaw and throat. It was hard to do while being so aggressively used. The muscles of his jaw burned and the joints ached.

The demon leaned into the force of his thrusts though, eyes squeezed closed as drool and tears wet his face. The only noise besides Griffin were the lewd sounds of face fucking and Balakai's little desperate breaths stolen in between thrusts.  When he was pulled up his face was still slack, jaw open and tongue lolling. 

Griffin threw him to the floor and tilted his head in the direction of the side table where there was a small, black, glass pot. "Get yourself ready. I want to see you stretch yourself, see you get ready to take me all in." There was an almost lazy note in Griffin's voice though his eyes betrayed him, sharp and wanting.

Balakai collapsed where he was thrown, but it was immediately clear that he wasn't unresponsive. He writhed on the rug, scrubbing his skin against it for the sensation of the thing, hands buried between his legs as he touched himself. He made a little, eager noise at Griffin's command, lifting his head to look where the witch pointed his attention. He focused on the little pot and reluctantly pulled his hands away from his cock. He crawled to it, then shuffled on his knees back to his place on the floor in front of Griffin. He made no attempt to climb up onto the bed with Griffin. 

He hadn't been invited. 

Instead he turned his back to the witch, setting the opened pot of lubricant next to him.

He lowered his face and shoulders to the floor, ass in the air. The heavy, swollen of his cock and testicles bobbed between his legs. He reached back underneath himself to spread the slick lube around his entrance. He moaned, voice too low for the delicate of his frame and rough with arousal and recent fucking as he fingered himself for Griffin's pleasure.

And Griffin was, indeed, pleased. It was clear in the sound of his hum and the almost cat-graceful way he moved. It was so hot to watch. To give a command and see Balakai obey. His life was usually so wildly chaotic and if he were honest with himself, Griffin had little control, even over himself. He was temper and vice and want, as his nature and as the working of the kinds of magic he commanded called of him in price.

He stroked the large and inhuman cock.  He wanted to fill him up and feel him clench, wring every last cry and noise from him, every tear and desperate gasp of breath. He reveled in being responsible for them; for every mark and drop of blood. He owned the demon tonight, body and mind, and it satisfied a place in him rarely attended.

Griffin turned around and crawled into the center of the bed, the soft material of the duvet sensual against his skin. For all that he had come already, he was ever hungry, and there was always more to enjoy. Balakai was a feast at which he would gorge himself, would be so easily a gluttonous sinner.

"I want to be in you," Griffin called with a smile in his voice. "Bring the pot with you unless you don't mind being ripped apart. You heal pretty fast, right?" He laughed, amused, placing an arm behind his head so that he could look up at Balakai. "Come get on my cock. Now."

There was a moment of stillness as the demon just gave a soft little sigh and just let his fingers slide free of his hole with a soft, wet sound. He didn't try to get to his feet. Just crawled to the bed with the pot in one hand and climbed up onto it. He slunk to Griffin, hands immediately going to the massive cock between the witch's legs, sliding slick hands over it.

He didn't pause long, just enough to make the dick shine. He was too eager, as eager as Griffin. He ached for it. His skin was cold and he was possessed by a certain unwavering certainty that the only way to chase away the chill was the heat of Griffin's skin. He straddled Griffin. Didn't brace himself or seek handholds. He reached beneath him to guide Griffin's cock to him, face set with a look of intense concentration.

"Fast...yes." The words were soft, dreamy.

Always that moment of pressure with something so blunt, that moment of tension until the head popped in and Balakai gave a little, startled mewl. It wasn't ever unsurprising, somehow. He shuddered and his eyes closed, back arching.

Griffin laughed again when Balakai made the sound, giving him a moment and just enjoying the art of him curving back like that. He was covered in oil and spend and blood and saliva... a mess and more beautiful for it. He liked the way the sharp twists of his spelled tattoo work was just visible around the edges of his ribs and down around the sexy curve of his hips. Griffin ran his hand along the ink, feeling the magic that stirred just under the surface there like current.

It was a delightful feeling, the demon speared there on the massive cock, watching him as he slid down it, trying to take it all in. 

"God you are so beautiful when I fuck you," the witch moaned, the weight of Balakai pushing down on his clit, a slow grind of pressure. It almost hurt. It was a divine ache and he had to restrain himself from fucking into the demon already.

He gave him time, let him slide down the slick length and spread himself wide open on him. 

It was a long, slow slide. It hurt, but not in the sharp way of tearing. More in the slow, aching way. The way that made him feel like his organs were being rearranged and he was being hollowed out yet filled. It was immensely satisfying and there was a little flash of triumph across the demon's dazed face when he was finally hilted on the massive thing, hips brushing Griffin's, his cock leaking onto the witch's pale, scarred stomach.

Balakai squirmed and whined, unable to keep still. He rocked, just a little, hardly moving at all. But it made the toy move which made his breathing ragged with moaning. Finally his hands found Griffin, bracing on his chest, nails drawing pinpoints of blood to the surface of his skin. 

"Fuck me," he whined, soft and low and breathless.

"Say please," Griffin replied with a peaked eyebrow, his hands finding the demon's hips and settling there in preparation. He pushed into the nails on his chest, aching for the sensation.

Balakai whimpered and leaned forward, lips brushing along Griffin's jaw. His tongue flicked out in little licks, tracing up to the corner of the witch's mouth. "Please," he whispered.

Griffin shivered, his whole body quaking, at the light touch of lips and even gentler word. It echoed through the howling empty of him. He kissed Balakai back, a light thing, but his teeth caught his bottom lip as he drew a breath and drew his hips back into the bed before slamming them up into the demon.

Balakai's body welcomed him, hot and tight and wanting and Griffin was not delicate. Long fingers dug into the pale flesh and left behind bruises on his skin. He fucked up into him hard and fast, his own breath coming ragged and hard, his heart thundering in his chest. He felt so good, the weight of him, the way Griffin could just own him. His own skin was shiny with Balakai’s pre and sweat and oil.

"Fuck... yes... Balakai..."  Griffin couldn't pull much thought together, just thrust up into him over and over, arranging his insides to accommodate him and the wild alien girth of the cock. "Fucking you feels so good..." Griffin moaned.

It was easy to just... surrender. To the heat and the friction and the slide of skin on skin. To let Griffin's bruising grip drive him as he just clung to the witch as if for dear life. Each thrust drove his breath from him in a little sob of sound. Balakai made little, abortive efforts to rock back, to move but he couldn't find the timing of it, was always thrown off by the hard pressure of Griffin's hands and the pounding over his hips.

"Griffin, please, oh please let me, please-" It didn't matter that he'd come before. All he could feel was Griffin filling him up inside, providing just constant pressure from behind and the aching, painful throbbing of his cock trapped in the steel ring. It wasn't exactly keeping him from cumming, but it felt like he built up in it, and the relentless teasing made it hurt but god he was so close he probably couldn't stop himself even if Griffin told him not to cum.

"Paint me. Hold nothing back. Sob, scream, beg, come as often as I drive you. I want you. Everything of you." And there was a kind of magic in the words, something of the depth of Griffin slipping through in the sound of his voice. His eyes flickered with power that he didn't really summon so much as he couldn't quite keep the truth of it contained within him anymore. The painted spells on his skin lit up and the sense of power was heavy on the air. Sex and blood and magic. Prices had been paid and Griffin near growled with the way it burned under his skin and ran like electricity through his bones. It was wild and reckless, letting slip the locks that kept the core of his raw magical potential sealed, but right now, he didn't care.

Balakai made him want to preen and show off; made him want to spill every secret and confess every sin. He fucked him hard and felt the heat and life and darkness of the demon, the nature of him like addiction to the witch. He wanted him. To own him and debase him, to consume him and to give him the entirety of himself. To cascade until there was nothing left but oblivion.

He held him tight and felt the moment that Balakai could hold on no more, felt him come unraveled, and it raced through Griffin's own magic like accelerant.