Griffin wakes up to a day of long, lazy sex in preparation for major magic.

Word Count: 6221

Content Warnings:  Cum inflation, belly bulge, knotting, breeding kink, begging, cuddle sex?, tacky abortion joke.

It was a testament to how tired he really was that the energetic fucking in the kitchen didn't wake him at all. Griffin fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. It wasn’t any of his concern if Millie decided to play with fire. The earth of this land had drunk deep of the blood of his people. The bones of his kin nourished the roots of the old trees. He was as much a part of this land as it was of him and within the bounds of it that he had set up for himself, he was god. The hurts of his deaths, ignored and put off in favor of chasing vice, healed better here and the sharp lines of tension and bitterness eased from his face as he slept deeply and peacefully. 

Time slipped by and it was nearly half a day later, the sun slanting into his room speaking to the fact that it was already well into early evening, when Griffin felt a playful nip at his jaw. It wasn't the roughness that had been threatened, so he assumed that Balakai and Millie had entertained one another for at least a little while. Instead, a slow smile spread across his lips, even though he hadn't yet opened his eyes. He felt around until he found what he was looking for and ran his fingers along the demon's cock. The bed wasn't that big, so it wasn't like he could be far. 

Except for a few modern updates, the room looked much as it had since the mid-seventeen hundreds. Wood floors, colonial furniture, and a four poster bed. It was big for the time, but not compared to modern affairs. There was a flat screen tv on the dresser across from the bed, and the lights had been converted from gas to electric ages ago, but most of the room, like the rest of the house, maintained much of its earlier period charm. 

"I see you found me," was the witch's lazy good morning as he stretched.

Balakai had slept, curled up in the free space on Griffin's bed, and woken feeling hungry- no surprise- but otherwise recovered. He stretched himself out and rolled over to throw an arm over the sleepy witch, snuggling close and pressing himself against Griffin's hip, rubbing lazily. He didn't let him go when he stretched but instead used the movement to push the covers a little further out of the way and press himself closer.

"Wasn't hard. You smell like me. Just tracked you. Used your shower." He slid a hand up into Griffin's hair, combing through the tangled auburn strands, tugging lightly.

Griffin made a kind of pleased sound at the fingers in his hair and he wasn't in a hurry to move or properly wake. He could likely have slept the rest of the day, but he was on something of a time table and there was genuine work that he had to do while here. Some magic was better worked where he was most powerful, and where he had spent centuries securing wards so that no one would be able to see what he was doing. There were places on the property where he'd pre-set large scale circles and had made offerings and preparations to enable powerful and flexible workings. Though he'd not asked to be deathless, there were some advantages that revealed themselves in moments like this. 

The witch's fingers became a little less playful and a little more attentive as he nuzzled back into the demon, lazy and easy. He knew that the timbre of their play could change in a moment, knew that playing with Balakai was always playing with fire. He was promised to get burned. That was never really a deterrent. 

Balakai’s hips rolled in slow, lazy motions against Griffin's hand, rising to the touch slowly but surely. He nuzzled and nipped down over the curve of the witch's shoulder, pressed close, skin to skin. He was for the moment... sated. It was almost a weird sort of feeling. An uncommon one. He reached down and pushed Griffin's hand away, then grabbed the witch's shoulder to roll him onto his side.

The demon snuggled close against his back, half-hard cock pressed between Griffin's thighs and the demon's body curled tight behind him. One arm curled around his hips to keep him close, the other up at a slightly awkward angle so he could keep petting his hair. Then he closed his eyes and made a low noise of contentment, tucking his face against the back of Griffin's shoulder. His hips still moved but it seemed more an afterthought. A lazy, comfortable motion that slid the shaft of him against Griffin's lips but never inside, squeezed between the soft skin of his inner thighs.

Griffin sighed, enjoying hedonistically the warmth of Balakai against his back. Even the slide of him between his thighs was undemanding and pleasant. Griffin reached back over his shoulder to brush his fingers through the demon's hair, feeling the silky soft of it between his fingers and very aware of the dichotomy of the softness of his skin to the hard muscles beneath. He could feel them move against his back, intimately and every presently aware that soft could turn sharp in a moment. 

Here, at home, he was not so guarded. He was in the seat of his power and the world could not touch him unless he let it. It was exceedingly rare for Griffin to even allow anyone to set foot on the property. To his memory, which was sometimes spotty, he could not recall allowing anyone to sleep in his bed with him here either. It didn't occur to him to keep Balakai out. Another time he might have given that more thought, but right now he didn't care. This was nice and he just allowed himself to lean into him and enjoy it.

There was very little that could spark urgency in the demon beyond his own needs and desires. The fact that Griffin had come here for a reason, to collect some things and do some work that would move them one step closer to Julian, was important, but not urgent. Even given that they only had... four days left? It wasn't his job to keep track. That was for Griffin. He was only tagging along to fulfill his own fantasy, and to hold Griffin to the promise made. 

His hand slid down from Griffin's hips, slowly. Petting over his stomach and tracing little patterns lower and lower until he teased his fingertips just above the juncture of his legs. Touch gentle, stroking, keeping everything light and lazy. He liked to touch, and he liked to touch Griffin, so it suited him just fine.

Griffin's breath caught and he moved under the demon's hand, not sparked to fire, but to interest at least. The sunlight was warm and honey rich as it filtered into the room from long, narrow colonial windows, the dark blue curtains pulled aside and only the white sheers gentling the light. Griffin did not live in darkness even if he walked it. The quilt on the bed had been made by his mother's hand, still well kept and simple. Everything here was personal to him, deliberate. He just lazed against the demon, choosing not to think too far ahead. 

Home was an island in which he occasionally allowed himself to take refuge when he had particular need. He made a little noise of quiet approval, but there was a striking lack of demand in the usually tightly wound witch.

Balakai sighed softly and gave a little wiggle as Griffin moved, as if resettling to try and press more of his skin to the witch's. He closed his eyes and turned his head to press his cheek against Griffin's scarred back. His hand didn't speed to the little movement of his hips. Didn't stir him to inferno. Just settled him with a sort of bone deep satisfaction to know he could so easily draw a reaction from the witch. The heat of the sun filtered through glass and sheers blanketed them in a comfortable warmth. His fingertips slid lower, just over the outer parts of him, shifting his own hips to move himself a little out of the way of his questing hand. 

"I don't know if your kitten will want to play again," he murmured lazily, low voice flavored with heated amusement.

Griffin chuckled low in his chest, lips unseen by Balakai, curling into a little wicked smile. "I have no doubt that if she were truly unhappy, she'd have let you know." 

There were reasons that he relegated her only to the property. As much to keep the world safe as her.

As much as he enjoyed the rough and demanding Balakai, he liked this one too. There was something almost sweet about the way he was curled into his back and he could feel his breath along his skin, warm and slow. His hands were lazy but purposeful. Griffin never felt the need to really play the game like he wasn't enjoying himself. It seemed that doing so would be counterproductive to his own desires and he wasn't presently in the mood to do himself mischief.

Balakai’s fingertips just parted Griffin's lips, then drew back and for a moment his hand pulled away. Balakai brought his fingers to his lips, lazily lathed them with his tongue. While he'd found the witch to be responsive and relatively easy to bring to wetness, he was in no hurry. Instead he slid his now slick fingers back between Griffin's legs to run them down either side of his clit in slow, easy strokes. 

"I haven't exactly given her the opportunity for feedback." Balakai chuckled and his lips moved against Griffin's skin in slow kisses. 

Griffin's breathing was deep and relaxed, his heart just beginning to pick up speed at the slow pleasure that was the uncomplicated of them at the moment. "She is much more dangerous than she appears." 

It was all the warning he intended to give. Some of Millie's secrets were her own, and depending on when and if they returned, Balakai would learn some of them anyway. For now, it wasn't important until it was. "Good cook, though."

"So am I," the demon grumbled, as though it was some slight to him that Griffin felt he had to give warning. Still, he filed the warning away for later. In case he cared. Which he likely wouldn't. It just added a little thrill of excitement to his stomach at the idea of what fun they might have in the future when Griffin was otherwise occupied.

"You've slept half a day," Balakai added after a long pause to simply enjoy Griffin. It wasn't a prompt to rush. Just bringing the witch slowly up to speed on what little he'd missed while he'd been out. "It's afternoon again. I can smell something cooking now."

Griffin moved his hips just so against Balakai, not to disrupt what he was doing, but only enough to add to the slide of him between his thighs. His fingers remained twined in his hair and his smile undimmed.

His hips rolled in steady, slow strokes, a little huff of breath escaping him as Griffin moved back. It was quiet. Easy. His hand on Griffin's cunt was equally soft, though no longer light. Stroking and petting and sliding in gentle circles, pausing occasionally if needed to make sure his fingers were slick and did not drag too much against Griffin's skin.

"I wouldn't know. You don't cook for me," Griffin chuckled, purposely misunderstanding what Balakai meant. It was all the thought, really, that he could summon because the demon was applying more attention to him and the slow build if it was becoming urgent and deep. He could feel the rise of himself, the way his breath caught and little sounds of desperation and want slipped through his teeth as his head fell back and into the demon.

"Yesssssss..." There was a smile in his voice.

Balakai snorted and his teeth grazed harmlessly against Griffin's skin, more mouthing him for the sensation of it than a true warning. He enjoyed Griffin's cheekiness more than it annoyed him. Far, far more. He smiled against the scarred skin as he felt the witch move more. He worked his other arm beneath him, wrapped around his hips so he could spread him with one hand, giving himself a little more room to work with the other as he toyed with the witch, slow and certain. 

"You're such a slut." He purred, amusement and fondness in the low growl of him.

"You love that I am. That I take such delight in your hands and cock, in that obscene tongue of yours." 

Griffin would have enjoyed having his hands on him, the absence of much to do but reach behind him and grasp his hair leaving him wanting, and that too was a kind of pleasure and play all its own. He didn't go in for denial very much because it rarely suited him, but there was something sweet and fun about this playing that he found remarkably soothing. Grounding, maybe. He breathed in the scent of the demon behind him, mixed with the floral and herb of his shampoo, the way his hands moved across his skin and drew his want from him. The demon was well familiar with how to play him as he wished now, and the result was that Griffin found himself brought to the edge of release lightly and with overwhelming delight. He mewled in desperation, near begging for more, just a little more, to carry him over the edge.

"I do." Balakai chuckled, not at all abashed to be called out. He did delight in Griffin's sexual appetite, even as Griffin enjoyed his own. He dipped his head a little, to increase the tug of Griffin's fingers in his hair, to feel the pull of it a little more. It was utterly gratifying the way the witch writhed against him, gave over to pleasure until he was whining for release, body pleading for it even if he didn't say the words. 

He slowed his hands just a little, touch going back to light and teasing. 

"Beg for it, Griffin," he murmured against him, voice raised just enough to be heard low and full of honey and smoke.

The words echoed up Griffin’s spine and sent a roll of heat crashing down on the shore of him. The way it demanded of the primal part of him that had no real pride. There was nothing to be gained by playing coy here with him. Maybe on another afternoon he might have refused just to be a brat. To drive the demon to the gnash of teeth at his shoulder. Here and now, he could not imagine why he would want anything other than exactly this. Anything but the hands of him teasing him, driving him breathless.

"Please, Balakai. Please god make me come. Make me shudder under your hands until I forget the sound of any name but yours. Please... Please..." He twisted under Balakai’s hands, his voice holding only heat and desire and surrender. His body strained against him, pleading.

The demon moved his grip to Griffin's thighs, pulling the witch’s upper leg back over the demon's hips. Spreading him open so he could get the right angle, guided by his other hand, to slip slowly into the witch. Not hard, not rough, just a slow slide until he was well seated in him, in the slick and heat, and he shuddered for the feel of it. Only then did he find Griffin's little hard cock again and this time touch it with deliberate intent.

He didn't thrust, didn't really move inside him. Just stroked and touched to bring him so that the demon could feel him squeeze around him, though he himself was not nearly so close to the edge. He just wanted to feel Griffin reach it.

The witch arched back into him, felt the hardness of Balakai's muscles against his back and the rise of his chest as he took breath. He was slow and wonton against him; did not move to hurry things along beyond the demon's will for him because it was sensual and the ache of want was bone deep as he was held at just the very edge. Griffin could feel the slight tremor of muscles as he needed him so badly, just existed in those breathless moments until at last with a near whisper of touch he was overcome; felt the heat become solar flare as he absolutely shattered against him. His whole body shook and he cried out. "Balakai, god yesssss..."

It was brilliant, the feeling as Griffin shattered against him, around him. He whined a little against the witch's back, brow pressed to his skin, feeling the way his muscles worked. Warm. Close. He drew out the peak of it as long as he could, hands never idle though he slowed and gentled again as Griffin began to relax against him, boneless and soft. He snuggled a little closer, a little hitch of his hips to make sure he was locked as tightly with the witch as they could be in this position. 

Griffin’s heart thundered and his chest ached from his heavy breathing and it took a long time to come down. There was a lingering heat and pleasure that could only be gotten this way, in patience and softness. It was rare for him and god if he didn't just drown in it recklessly. Still, Balakai didn't thrust. The demon kept his arms tight around the witch, toyed with him in the same slow, gentle way he'd started. Except this time the thick of him was buried deep, swelling slowly from the stimulus of being in the witch's cunt.

Griffin moaned as he felt Balakai swell in him and it nearly choked for want to move against him, to feel the slide of the thick cock inside him. Balakai was hard and large and Griffin ached with the feel of him within. And still the demon worked Griffin’s small cock and made him whimper. He reveled in the pleasure, the way his body existed to feel and it chased away all of the shadow and for a moment, even the agony too. In the arms of this hound born of hell, he found a way to just let go and exist.

For the moment, he belonged only to Balakai.

"Oh please, Balakai please fuck me. Fill me until I can't take anymore and then fill me again. Breed me like the bitch I am. Please... Please!" His voice was pleading, begging without pride or restraint.

Balakai didn't make Griffin ask again. He rolled the witch onto his belly and hitched up his hips, reaching for one of the pillows to push underneath him to keep him up. It made him slip partly out of the witch with a soft, wet sound as the partially swollen knot of him popped free. He shivered a little and leaned low over Griffin, knees pushing the witch's legs wide. He slid an arm beneath him again so he could continue to touch him. Every time he shivered or clenched it felt like heaven. Every breath reverberated with a low, chest deep growl that almost held a note of a croon as he nuzzled into the nape of Griffin's neck and began to move.

Slow and unhurried, pressing himself deeply as he could with each stroke, eyes half closed and the deep rust of embers as he just enjoyed the slide of them together, the heat and tightness. His knot grew too large to easily push in and his thrusts grew a little shorter, not yet trying to force it into him. He liked to tie- preferred it, even. He'd not often had the opportunity to breed a bitch in his full true nature, but the facsimile of it was better. Still he did not always like to do it. Not with everyone. For all that his standards were few, this was one area in which he was picky. 

But Griffin was his.

Griffin leaned most often in life to pain and violence. He did not fear them. Those things he knew best. Agony and sharpness and cruelty and loss. He valued almost nothing so that he could lose nothing. Not even himself. Because he was not precious with himself. Here, like this, he gave himself away. He moved with Balakai and felt him and god he was so big it couldn't help but become an aching pressure within him, stretching him in ways that made him whimper and shudder. It was delirium and delight and the whisper of madness. He held in the moment of feeling and there was no telling where the demon ended and he began. 

He did not want to know. 

All of the hungry voices inside of him were quiet, his mind empty save for the play of golden bright sunset spilling over them and the sound of Balakai's heart loud in his ears. He felt the heat of him and memories of teeth tearing at his skin mingled with the sweet fire of this rare passion between them. It built him back up, sent the electricity of it coursing along every nerve of his body and he moaned the demon's name like a caress.

His weight lay heavy on Griffin's back, the labor of his breath heavy despite his slow and languid approach. His tongue lathed soft over the back of Griffin's shoulders, tasting the salt of his sweat from being brought once, the taste of his skin that was unique to him. He would have known Griffin blind at this point, by scent and by taste alone. Possibly even by the peculiar sound of his step and his heartbeat. The way he breathed. He had watched for so long but never been so close, obsession now turned to possession.

"Griffin..." he moaned in soft response, the name rolling low from his lips, edged with the gravel of passion and heat. Despite the lack of haste, he could feel the swell of him close. The deep desire to seat himself in Griffin and breed him though nothing would come of it. It didn't matter the truth of it, only the desire, the deep rooted instinct. There was a subtle shift in his position, a bracing and the hand he'd been using to fondle Griffin shift just a little, spreading him open and pressing against the front of his pubic bone to keep him from being pushed forward. His other hand braced on the witch's hip and he pressed forward. Not sharp. Slow. The inevitable press of the swollen of him, the little shuffling of his knees and the hunching of his back as he pushed forward, breath whining in his throat. Pulling Griffin back against him.

It set the flesh of him to rise, the sound of his name on the demon's lips like that. The gravel and the fire and the ownership in it. It was dangerous, this. Not just the softness that was a trap and always would be. A thing of him that Griffin locked far away and didn't dare to touch or allow. Except that now he was, he did. Even knowing that it would be his ruin. That this would be a course from which he couldn't easily turn and it would wreck as any ship in a storm. He couldn't bring himself to care. He'd bled and paid in agony and in endless loneliness. He was of the darkness and there was no regret for that, but fire shone most brightly there. And he did not mind being so consumed. Maybe Balakai would take all of him and there would be nothing left and he would finally find the oblivion he'd been chasing for centuries. 

As the knot of the hellhound pressed into him, would have ripped him asunder if not for the wet of him already, he cried out and bucked into him, exaltation and agony the same as he came hard, shaking on hands and knees even as he pressed back into the demon, wanted to make him feel every quiver and quake of him, every inch of the core of him that was his. 

"Please..." It was a whisper of submission.

He had to stop when Griffin came, hold him in place as he writhed because there was no way to push past the squeezing of muscle without causing harm and today, tonight, this moment at least, that was not his intention. He preferred to do harm when he intended to. With great deliberation, always. No matter that often he seemed impulsive, there was a part of the hellhound that calculated always. It was not simple luck and opportunity that had gotten him free of hell without the bonds of summoner, or that had put the ink into his skin that bound himself to himself.

Only as Griffin began to subside and push back on him did Balakai give the sharp, hard press of his hips to push past the last resistance in the witch's muscles gone soft, and he froze there, locked in place, muscles hard and trembling as he emptied into him with a low and drawn out moan. He rested his head against Griffin's spine, fingers slowly resuming their idle little circles around his clit. 

"Good. Good," he murmured softly, voice low and laden with approval.

It made Griffin shiver and stutter, made his insides feel like too much as Balakai filled him up and his stomach gave a little bulge beneath him. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, just different, and if he could have reached back to touch him and not fallen on his face, he would have. Longed to feel the slide of his skin under his palms and to lick the sweat from his flesh. Visceral, consuming want to keep him. Griffin didn't fight the feeling for once, though his lips quirked a little in amusement at the satisfaction in the demon's voice. 

The witch gave a long sigh and enjoyed the weight of Balakai there, in him and on him and holding him. He felt like there was no part of him that the hell hound did not touch, that he was laid bare before him in this more than anything else. Here in the heart of his power where he allowed himself simply to be. And gave what he otherwise could not. 

"Yes you are," he said in a satisfied voice, gone all easy and indulgent. His eyes slid closed again and he didn't try to move. Just remained. Content.

Balakai hummed a soft agreement and just rested there. He felt his eyes growing heavy, his breathing slowing and with a little grunt he tipped them over on their sides so they were spooning again, still stuck in Griffin. It felt right. The way it did sometimes. His hands went quiet and still, the whole of him restful. He could have slept, maybe, or at least drowsed, but mostly he was wrapped in satiety. Even the hunger that gnawed faintly in his stomach wasn't a distraction. He nuzzled against Griffin's back.

"You know, I can stay like this." He murmured with a low chuckle. "Could nap, wake up to do it again. Over and over." His voice wasn't exactly sleepy, but slow and a little dreamy, if edged with that wicked amusement that was ever present in him.

"Promises, promises," Griffin mumbled, not really working to be clear with his words because he was wrapped in the warm glow of fulfilment and it was so rare for him to exist in the silence of surety. What moments of happiness he had he usually stole from himself. Under the eves of the house built on the bones of his first home, where so much had been lost and taken, he didn't fight the world. Not so much at peace, but not as wretchedly at war. His life had not begun until he had found darkness, everything before it a kind of light dream that merely taunted him when he closed his eyes. It hadn't been real in a very long time. 

This moment was. And it was all he asked. Whatever came after belonged to itself and he asked nothing of it. 

Griffin reached behind him and ran his fingers along Balakai's skin, the muscle cooling beneath it. He nuzzled under his chin, gave a slow and gentle sigh, and didn't try to fill the space with words or thoughts.

Teeth nipped lightly at Griffin's skin, more play than threat, and Balakai laughed. It was a low, lazy sound and he groped to find the quilt he'd pushed out of the way and instead pulled it up over them. Since Griffin didn't seem inclined to move, neither did he feel it necessary. Instead he tucked his arms back around the witch's waist and pressed his hands over where, if he pressed a little, he could feel the hard of himself in Griffin. His fingers drifted lower, petting the mound of him that was distended by the girth inside, down to tease over his swollen little cock again and trace the edges of his lips where they squeezed tight around the base of his knot. He could feel the pressure of his fingers through Griffin and it made him shiver and twitch a little.

"You going back to sleep?" He grazed his teeth against Griffin's shoulder, opened his jaws wide to mouth the shoulder of him, teeth pressing into skin blunt, almost gentle. Mouthing for the feel of something between his teeth without the fight that sharpness and blood letting generally entailed.

"No," he answered after a slow moment to just feel Balakai move. He shivered at the feel of his lips and teeth on his skin, but it was pleasant. Even though he knew how quickly this could become blood and agony and death, he was not haunted by such things. Instead, he just smiled lightly and wiggled a little to make sure there was no offending space between them, not even the breath of air to steal the heat and skin of him from Griffin who lazed in abandon and bliss. "No, I'm enjoying this. You."

It was dangerous sometimes to give the truth, especially to a demon as much as the faery. Griffin had already accepted the consequences of his recklessness. They didn't matter right now.

The witch moved his hips just a little so that he could feel Balakai in him, to stretch and he gave a little moan because god it was good. Kept him at that beautiful edge of reason more lost than found and he could have existed in it for all of time. Untethered from everything else because he was anchored to Balakai, literally, delightfully. One hand snaked back to run up the back of Balakai's neck behind him, into his hair which he fisted between his fingers but did not pull hard. Only held him there and took one slow breath after another.

Balakai’s fingers never stopped sliding between Griffin's legs, a slow and easy exploration. The feeling of him stretching around his knot was visceral, feeling it under his fingertips almost more erotic than the sight of it. Though he'd shrunk some, his refractory period was not slow when he wanted it to be. He could do this for hours. Wanted to, right now. This. Slow. Hard. Gentle. Rough. Every way. Until they were both exhausted, shaking. Until Griffin's belly was swollen with his seed. It spoke to the primal parts of him and drove away some of the lingering lethargy. His hands moved with a little more purpose, finding Griffin's little cock again and running his fingers along either side of it, stroking the hood back from the sensitive tip.

"Stay here too long and I am just going to breed you again," he growled, and shifted his hips a little as though to prove his point. Pulling back just enough that under his fingers he could feel the swollen of his knot pushing Griffin's lips obscenely wide, but not quite coming out of him. Stopping just shy of that widest point and holding there for a moment before he sank back in and shuddered at the feel of the muscles clenching down around the narrowing of his shaft just behind the knot.

Griffin's breath caught as Balakai moved, didn't quite pull out of him but tested and strained and he let out a long moan as he pressed his shoulders back into him and his fingers tightened in his hair. There were a million things he needed to do. Preparations that needed to be made and magic to be worked that was costly and exhausting. And yet, he could not bring himself to care. It did not matter right now. He had all of time and if he did not catch Julian now, there would be time later. There was always time for him and whatever collateral cost that incurred he would weather. As he did all things. Right now, nothing seemed more important than this and there was no force under heaven or on earth that could have convinced him otherwise. 

"Promises, Promises," the witch said again with a teasing twist of his lips. He was sensitive and aching and every stroke of Balakai's fingers along his cock made him twist and his breath catch, but he wanted more. The delight that the demon took in his body, in what he did to him, was overwhelming and he ached for more of him. To see his belly swell from him in a way it could no longer otherwise do. He wanted all of him, every drop, every moan, every breath of desire and need.

There was a low sound from the demon, somewhere between a laugh and a growl. He toyed with Griffin's cock, pinning his hips against his but letting the rest of the witch's body twist and arch in reaction. Delighted in it. 

He took him twice more as the sun set and night descended, never letting Griffin quite come down from arousal, always teasing his sensitive flesh. Keeping him worked up and bringing him as often as he could bring him to that edge. He remained gentle- at least, for him- even to the last when he dug blunt teeth into Griffin's shoulder and bred him, listening to the sloppy sounds of them sliding together, wet and loud in the room so quiet except for the sounds of their bodies and moans. A little bruising was hardly rough when it came to the two of them. 

It was hunger that made him finally hold down Griffin's hips and pull himself free with a wet pop, collapsing onto the covers off to the side. The sheets were soaked with sweat and the room redolent with the scent of their fucking. He breathed deeply and settled back into the pillows for a moment, stretching muscles that felt pleasantly worked. "I'm fucking starving." 

The gilt of afternoon sun had given way to silver moonlight spilling through the curtains, the room wreathed in shadow.

"No, I'm sure you're just actually starving. We fucked all afternoon and evening. Even you should be at least somewhat satisfied by now." There was only languid satisfaction in Griffin's voice. He lay on his back, sprawled in an artful mess, a grin on his face thought he was a little flush and his stomach bulged obscenely. His eyes were closed and he ran a hand over his stomach. 

"I'd say I'm about five months pregnant. What are we naming this cum baby of ours?" He giggled. He was alight and everything felt kind of humorous to him.

Balakai eyed him with mock skepticism, studying his bloated body for a moment. He reached out and ran a hand over the swell of him, possessive. Pleased. More than pleased at the half-giddy sound of Griffin’s giggle, a noise he wasn’t sure he ever expected the witch to make. 

"Hellhounds litter," he said simply and gave a little shrug. "Better just think of a theme to name them after."

Griffin laughed. "Oh fuck that. I'm having an abortion. I don't want one, let alone a litter. You're enough to handle. Sorry, this little family's gonna go down the drain."

Balakai grinned at their little play and rolled abruptly off the bed and lightly to his feet. He stretched and padded to the bathroom, cleaned up, and came back with a damp rag. He tossed it onto Griffin's chest, then went and found pants. "You're a right messy bitch."

 The witch wiped down a little, but it was rather hopeless. He was a disaster. "I'll be along after I clean up. Millie will have taken care of dinner by now, so there should be plenty of food since we skipped lunch." 

He winced a little as he moved and his belly sloshed. He shook his head and shooed the demon out of the room so that he could see to himself.