[Fic: Where I Want Him (tied up and gagged in my arms)]
sunday_reveries: image # 9 [text reads: seduction leads to disaster]
They knew what they were. He was more than aware that she was a demon, and she knew exactly what he was there fore the minute he had walked into the bar. She wasn’t about to let him cause a mess in her bar, and he wasn’t about to let her continue to use this building, fronting as a bar, to be a safe haven for killer demons in the middle of the city.
His wings were in when he entered, though she could see his jaw tighten. Business had been slow that evening-she couldn’t help it, some nights were better than others. She smirked at him, raised an eyebrow. There was very little verbal communication in her business, with her customers. The kind of demons she dealt with generally weren’t the chatty type, and even if they were, they kept their mouths shut. He glared back at her. Her wings were out, black as the night, crows wings crooked and ugly, feathers matted. She didn’t care. His wings weren’t, not that it mattered. He was an archangel, and he was there to kill anyone he possibly could. Possibly her. Not yet, though. Not today. She was going to make sure of that.
He ordered a whiskey on the rocks. The smirk on her face deepened, and she turned around, trusting that for the moment, he would leave her alone. Maybe he was planning his kill for after he had finished with his drink. One didn’t settle themselves into the bar stool so comfortably, order a drink and THEN kill without at least getting the drink. Then it was up to him, whenever he wanted to make a move.
She got lucky that night, though she would have never admitted it later. He had decided to make his kill, whomever he had been planning to kill, after he had finished his drink. How sweet of him. How sweet of her, to save the killing powder for another time and simply slipping a tranquilizer into his drink, though a dose strong enough to knock a horse out in under an hour. It sure made him woozy, anyway, in no less than ten minutes. She played overly nice the whole time, refilling his drink at least twice in that time, though she didn’t dare put any more tranquilizer in there. She may have been a Rakshasa, but she didn’t want a body on her hands in her bar. Not one that wasn’t covered in blood, anyway.
She had refilled his glass a fourth time when he leaned over, grabbed her shoulder to hold her there, resting his forehead against hers. She fought the urge to grab his arm off her shoulder and break it, settling for just looking surprised like she ought to. “You’re really pretty,” he slurred. “For a demon.”
She smiled. “Well you’re really hot,” she replied. “For an angel.”
He blinked at her sleepily. “You got a place I can lie down?” he asked. “I’m feeling kinda weird.”
“Ah, a man who doesn’t know his own limits.” She chuckled, and then glanced to the back, nodding at the boy who washed glasses, before climbing over the bar to help him stumble up the stairs.
It worked perfectly, almost too perfectly. She had just gotten him on the bed when he grabbed her hand and pulled her on top of him. He smelled like alcohol (unsurprisingly) and sweat, like smoke and Old Spice. She waited for him to say something, just laying there in the dark after she gave a squeak of surprise that had been planned and practiced many times before this. “You’re really pretty,” he repeated.
“You’re not very creative,” she giggled.
“I’ve never-“ he hiccupped. She resisted the urge to gag in disgust. If only the people who wrote the Bible could see angels like him, at their finest, laying in here minutes away from a heinous sin. She hoped to God he had a girlfriend. That would just make this that much better. “I’ve never fucked a demon before.” The words came out as a kind of moan, as she turned over to straddle him. She smiled, as sweetly as she could, reaching out to brush some hair from his face. “It might be... I mean... nice.” He was no longer making sense, and that was okay. She didn’t need to understand him, at all. She already understood far too much.
“It might be,” she nodded before bending down to kiss him. He didn’t bother kissing back, or couldn’t kiss back, but he moaned into it, and she knew she was on the right path. She had figured. After a while, they’re all the same. She pulled away from the kiss, and he gazed up at her with a look that could be described as adoring if it was on anyone else.
“Beautiful,” he slurred, and she wasn’t sure if he meant her, or the kiss. “So beautiful.” She began to kiss down his neck, taking her own sweet time, nibbling at the skin just above the veins while she felt his pulse through her lips. He was so cold; it felt like ice on her skin. She settled into the soft flesh at the base of his neck, gnawing on it like it was her next meal. He just lay there, not reacting at all, and she wondered for a minute if she had put too much tranquilizer in his drink. She pulled back with a confused and worried look on her face. She was queen of these looks, the mask slipping easily over the contempt and disgust and slice of hope that she had indeed killed him. His eyes seemed to be overwhelmed by the sudden amount new things to look at, and so he took a moment to focus on her. He blinked once, twice.
“You okay, sweetie?” she asked. “You don’t like bein’ nibbled?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t really feel my hands,” he tells her, as if that’s an appropriate answer to her question. “But you keep doing that.”
She smiles. “I’ll only do it if you like it,” she says, and reaches out a hand to brush his hair away again, almost sweetly, as if she had known him and loved him for years instead of met him twenty minutes ago and strategically planned this all out step by step since then.
“I don’t really know what I like,” he admitted, blinking up at her. She gave him a confused look, and he shook his head a few times, dismissing their conversation. “Just keep doing what you were doing,” he said, and she smiled sweetly at him, and then went back at it, nipping at his neck with her incisors. “I mean,” he continued, not even turning his head to talk to her, just talking at the ceiling. “I guess I don’t-I’ve fucked before, right? I have. Just not with a demon. So. I just... god. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.” He struggled to sit up, and she made a frustrated face into the comforter of the bed before sitting up too. She put her hand on his chest and looked into his eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, trying to make her voice sound the tiniest bit wobbly-vulnerable. “I promise. I’ll make it okay.”
He searched her face, though for what she wasn’t sure. Sincerity? Love? She struggled to put on the face he wanted, and was so sure she had fucked it up, had ruined this chance when he lay back down and exhaled. “I came here to kill,” he said, to the ceiling again. “Did you know that? I didn’t know if you knew. I came here to kill demons, and now I’m just fucking one.” He chuckled, as she traced meaningless designs on his chest, her fingers trailing lower and lower while he continued talking. “I didn’t... I hadn’t set on which one. It wasn’t going to be you, you know. I mean, I was going to kill someone but it wasn’t going to be you. I need you.” He chuckled again, and then coughed, the laugh caught in his throat. “Hilarious, isn’t it? An angel, an ARCHANGEL nonetheless, who needs a demon.” He paused again, as she fiddled with the button on his pants, then the zipper. “Your wings are very pretty,” he said to her, reaching out to touch the feathers with two fingers, like it was show and tell at elementary school or something. “You’re very pretty. I’ve killed a lot of pretty people in my time, you know. I can’t... I’m not sorry about it. Not even the pretty ones.” She began unbuttoning his shirt buttons. He grasped her hand as she undid the last one, and looked straight into her face again. “This is wrong,” he said simply, not warningly, not like he was going to leave. She nodded.
“It is,” she said, a little breathlessly. She couldn’t help enjoying this. It was wired into her brain to enjoy this, even if it was with an angel. She bent down to kiss him, and he kissed back this time, not hard, almost... lovingly? She kissed a little harder, as she was wont to do. Being a killing demon, it’s hard not to let violence bleed over into other parts of your life. He closed his eyes, and she ground her hips against his. He grunted, pulled away from the kiss for air. She grinned, and then worked her way down his neck once more.
“Is it okay for me to like it?” he asked. She almost moaned into his lower abdomen. He was doing too much talking. But she still had to play the part of sweet little demon girl, so she rested her chin where her mouth had just been, and looked contemplative for him.
“I guess,” she said finally. “I mean, me being a demon and all, it’s not like I’m the morality police, but.” She shrugged and went back to kissing.
He just nodded and then began helping her slip off his pants, then helped her remove hers. He still wouldn’t look at her, just feeling with his fingers “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, over and over again like he wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. She just smiled little half-smiles at him, in his general direction, until they were both naked and properly aroused.
The sex itself wasn’t particularly inspiring, though it wasn’t horrible. It was better than she had expected-she had had her fair share of sex with angels who just couldn’t get it up, or totally failed once they remembered they were fucking a demon. He didn’t seem to care much, just lay there and thrust, grunting at the appropriate moments. She thought he liked it, to a certain degree; he had rolled over afterward and mumbled, “That was nice,” after all. She nodded, not that he could see; the lights had been turned low, for good reason. She reached out into the darkness, pausing every now and then to listen to his breathing. The knife, her favorite, lay on the bedside stand, and if they had drawn back the curtains it would have glinted in the moonlight. Instead, it just laid there, the grip almost warm in her hand as she slipped her fingers around it. She inhaled as she brought it up soundlessly, and then he spoke again. He was always speaking at the most inconvenient times.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
She licked her lips. She was kind of tired of lying at this point, and besides, it didn’t matter; he was going to be dead soon. “Yes,” she replied. “I am.”
“I thought so,” he said. “I mean... that was sort of the plan the whole time, right? Get me drunk, fuck me so I’d trust you, and then kill me.”
“That was the plan. And it kind of worked, too. I have to keep my establishment a safe place for demons. We have a killing, and that destroys the advertising.”
“Well then. I’m sorry. That this had to happen.”
She almost glared at him. “I’m not,” she shot back. “Things have to be done.”
“Well.” A pause. She waited for him to finish his last thought. It was only common courtesy, after all. She may have been a demon, and a killing demon at that, but she wasn’t rude. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For that lovely sex we just had. For making sure I had a moment of pleasure before you killed me. I really appreciate it.”
“Well,” she replied, and then there was the thrust with as much power behind it as she could put. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
There was a bit of dismemberment after the angel was dead. She was a Rakshasa, after all, and as much as she liked the kill, it was the blood and the pain she was really after. Not too much, though. Her sheets were already ruined, and she didn’t want blood to get all over the carpeting as well. She wrapped the body in a sheet, and then shoved the whole mess into a garbage bag, taking her time to drag it downstairs. After she had dumped it into the dumpster in the back and came back into the bar with blood on her face, the boy from the back clapped, which led to the entire bar giving her a standing ovation. She just blushed and looked at her feet. She was only doing her job, after all.
Muse: Suzuki Suki
Word count: 2,256
They knew what they were. He was more than aware that she was a demon, and she knew exactly what he was there fore the minute he had walked into the bar. She wasn’t about to let him cause a mess in her bar, and he wasn’t about to let her continue to use this building, fronting as a bar, to be a safe haven for killer demons in the middle of the city.
His wings were in when he entered, though she could see his jaw tighten. Business had been slow that evening-she couldn’t help it, some nights were better than others. She smirked at him, raised an eyebrow. There was very little verbal communication in her business, with her customers. The kind of demons she dealt with generally weren’t the chatty type, and even if they were, they kept their mouths shut. He glared back at her. Her wings were out, black as the night, crows wings crooked and ugly, feathers matted. She didn’t care. His wings weren’t, not that it mattered. He was an archangel, and he was there to kill anyone he possibly could. Possibly her. Not yet, though. Not today. She was going to make sure of that.
He ordered a whiskey on the rocks. The smirk on her face deepened, and she turned around, trusting that for the moment, he would leave her alone. Maybe he was planning his kill for after he had finished with his drink. One didn’t settle themselves into the bar stool so comfortably, order a drink and THEN kill without at least getting the drink. Then it was up to him, whenever he wanted to make a move.
She got lucky that night, though she would have never admitted it later. He had decided to make his kill, whomever he had been planning to kill, after he had finished his drink. How sweet of him. How sweet of her, to save the killing powder for another time and simply slipping a tranquilizer into his drink, though a dose strong enough to knock a horse out in under an hour. It sure made him woozy, anyway, in no less than ten minutes. She played overly nice the whole time, refilling his drink at least twice in that time, though she didn’t dare put any more tranquilizer in there. She may have been a Rakshasa, but she didn’t want a body on her hands in her bar. Not one that wasn’t covered in blood, anyway.
She had refilled his glass a fourth time when he leaned over, grabbed her shoulder to hold her there, resting his forehead against hers. She fought the urge to grab his arm off her shoulder and break it, settling for just looking surprised like she ought to. “You’re really pretty,” he slurred. “For a demon.”
She smiled. “Well you’re really hot,” she replied. “For an angel.”
He blinked at her sleepily. “You got a place I can lie down?” he asked. “I’m feeling kinda weird.”
“Ah, a man who doesn’t know his own limits.” She chuckled, and then glanced to the back, nodding at the boy who washed glasses, before climbing over the bar to help him stumble up the stairs.
It worked perfectly, almost too perfectly. She had just gotten him on the bed when he grabbed her hand and pulled her on top of him. He smelled like alcohol (unsurprisingly) and sweat, like smoke and Old Spice. She waited for him to say something, just laying there in the dark after she gave a squeak of surprise that had been planned and practiced many times before this. “You’re really pretty,” he repeated.
“You’re not very creative,” she giggled.
“I’ve never-“ he hiccupped. She resisted the urge to gag in disgust. If only the people who wrote the Bible could see angels like him, at their finest, laying in here minutes away from a heinous sin. She hoped to God he had a girlfriend. That would just make this that much better. “I’ve never fucked a demon before.” The words came out as a kind of moan, as she turned over to straddle him. She smiled, as sweetly as she could, reaching out to brush some hair from his face. “It might be... I mean... nice.” He was no longer making sense, and that was okay. She didn’t need to understand him, at all. She already understood far too much.
“It might be,” she nodded before bending down to kiss him. He didn’t bother kissing back, or couldn’t kiss back, but he moaned into it, and she knew she was on the right path. She had figured. After a while, they’re all the same. She pulled away from the kiss, and he gazed up at her with a look that could be described as adoring if it was on anyone else.
“Beautiful,” he slurred, and she wasn’t sure if he meant her, or the kiss. “So beautiful.” She began to kiss down his neck, taking her own sweet time, nibbling at the skin just above the veins while she felt his pulse through her lips. He was so cold; it felt like ice on her skin. She settled into the soft flesh at the base of his neck, gnawing on it like it was her next meal. He just lay there, not reacting at all, and she wondered for a minute if she had put too much tranquilizer in his drink. She pulled back with a confused and worried look on her face. She was queen of these looks, the mask slipping easily over the contempt and disgust and slice of hope that she had indeed killed him. His eyes seemed to be overwhelmed by the sudden amount new things to look at, and so he took a moment to focus on her. He blinked once, twice.
“You okay, sweetie?” she asked. “You don’t like bein’ nibbled?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t really feel my hands,” he tells her, as if that’s an appropriate answer to her question. “But you keep doing that.”
She smiles. “I’ll only do it if you like it,” she says, and reaches out a hand to brush his hair away again, almost sweetly, as if she had known him and loved him for years instead of met him twenty minutes ago and strategically planned this all out step by step since then.
“I don’t really know what I like,” he admitted, blinking up at her. She gave him a confused look, and he shook his head a few times, dismissing their conversation. “Just keep doing what you were doing,” he said, and she smiled sweetly at him, and then went back at it, nipping at his neck with her incisors. “I mean,” he continued, not even turning his head to talk to her, just talking at the ceiling. “I guess I don’t-I’ve fucked before, right? I have. Just not with a demon. So. I just... god. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.” He struggled to sit up, and she made a frustrated face into the comforter of the bed before sitting up too. She put her hand on his chest and looked into his eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, trying to make her voice sound the tiniest bit wobbly-vulnerable. “I promise. I’ll make it okay.”
He searched her face, though for what she wasn’t sure. Sincerity? Love? She struggled to put on the face he wanted, and was so sure she had fucked it up, had ruined this chance when he lay back down and exhaled. “I came here to kill,” he said, to the ceiling again. “Did you know that? I didn’t know if you knew. I came here to kill demons, and now I’m just fucking one.” He chuckled, as she traced meaningless designs on his chest, her fingers trailing lower and lower while he continued talking. “I didn’t... I hadn’t set on which one. It wasn’t going to be you, you know. I mean, I was going to kill someone but it wasn’t going to be you. I need you.” He chuckled again, and then coughed, the laugh caught in his throat. “Hilarious, isn’t it? An angel, an ARCHANGEL nonetheless, who needs a demon.” He paused again, as she fiddled with the button on his pants, then the zipper. “Your wings are very pretty,” he said to her, reaching out to touch the feathers with two fingers, like it was show and tell at elementary school or something. “You’re very pretty. I’ve killed a lot of pretty people in my time, you know. I can’t... I’m not sorry about it. Not even the pretty ones.” She began unbuttoning his shirt buttons. He grasped her hand as she undid the last one, and looked straight into her face again. “This is wrong,” he said simply, not warningly, not like he was going to leave. She nodded.
“It is,” she said, a little breathlessly. She couldn’t help enjoying this. It was wired into her brain to enjoy this, even if it was with an angel. She bent down to kiss him, and he kissed back this time, not hard, almost... lovingly? She kissed a little harder, as she was wont to do. Being a killing demon, it’s hard not to let violence bleed over into other parts of your life. He closed his eyes, and she ground her hips against his. He grunted, pulled away from the kiss for air. She grinned, and then worked her way down his neck once more.
“Is it okay for me to like it?” he asked. She almost moaned into his lower abdomen. He was doing too much talking. But she still had to play the part of sweet little demon girl, so she rested her chin where her mouth had just been, and looked contemplative for him.
“I guess,” she said finally. “I mean, me being a demon and all, it’s not like I’m the morality police, but.” She shrugged and went back to kissing.
He just nodded and then began helping her slip off his pants, then helped her remove hers. He still wouldn’t look at her, just feeling with his fingers “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, over and over again like he wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. She just smiled little half-smiles at him, in his general direction, until they were both naked and properly aroused.
The sex itself wasn’t particularly inspiring, though it wasn’t horrible. It was better than she had expected-she had had her fair share of sex with angels who just couldn’t get it up, or totally failed once they remembered they were fucking a demon. He didn’t seem to care much, just lay there and thrust, grunting at the appropriate moments. She thought he liked it, to a certain degree; he had rolled over afterward and mumbled, “That was nice,” after all. She nodded, not that he could see; the lights had been turned low, for good reason. She reached out into the darkness, pausing every now and then to listen to his breathing. The knife, her favorite, lay on the bedside stand, and if they had drawn back the curtains it would have glinted in the moonlight. Instead, it just laid there, the grip almost warm in her hand as she slipped her fingers around it. She inhaled as she brought it up soundlessly, and then he spoke again. He was always speaking at the most inconvenient times.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
She licked her lips. She was kind of tired of lying at this point, and besides, it didn’t matter; he was going to be dead soon. “Yes,” she replied. “I am.”
“I thought so,” he said. “I mean... that was sort of the plan the whole time, right? Get me drunk, fuck me so I’d trust you, and then kill me.”
“That was the plan. And it kind of worked, too. I have to keep my establishment a safe place for demons. We have a killing, and that destroys the advertising.”
“Well then. I’m sorry. That this had to happen.”
She almost glared at him. “I’m not,” she shot back. “Things have to be done.”
“Well.” A pause. She waited for him to finish his last thought. It was only common courtesy, after all. She may have been a demon, and a killing demon at that, but she wasn’t rude. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For that lovely sex we just had. For making sure I had a moment of pleasure before you killed me. I really appreciate it.”
“Well,” she replied, and then there was the thrust with as much power behind it as she could put. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
There was a bit of dismemberment after the angel was dead. She was a Rakshasa, after all, and as much as she liked the kill, it was the blood and the pain she was really after. Not too much, though. Her sheets were already ruined, and she didn’t want blood to get all over the carpeting as well. She wrapped the body in a sheet, and then shoved the whole mess into a garbage bag, taking her time to drag it downstairs. After she had dumped it into the dumpster in the back and came back into the bar with blood on her face, the boy from the back clapped, which led to the entire bar giving her a standing ovation. She just blushed and looked at her feet. She was only doing her job, after all.
Muse: Suzuki Suki
Word count: 2,256