The cold seeped into his bones as he sat there for a few seconds and he get up to move, finding just a few steps from where they were got considerably warmer.
He paused, looking back over his shoulder at the stones with a small smirk. It was interesting that she was drawn to this particular part of the house.
With a burst of inspiration, he leaned down to pull some tools from his duffle bag- a mallet and a crowbar that he could use to chip away the concrete between the stones. Hefting the tools in each hand, he considered the layout, eventually deciding to go for the bottom. He pulled the iron log and kindling holder away to set it beside him and worked on the stones, chipping away and using the pry bar to lever whenever he felt anything give. One came away after a bit of work, and he pulled it out of place. It was heavier than it looked and he was glad he was in good enough condition not to break anything in the house or hurt himself as he moved it.
Underneath was too dark to see- the room was already gloomy, lit by only the street lights outside and a light a short way down the hall, but underneath the stone was darkness- it looked like there was a space, and with a triumphant grin, he grabbed a flashlight to check.
There was about a foot of space underneath, that seemed empty at first, but as he moved the light something white caught his eye and he was torn between glee and a small amount of sadness. He’d found the bones. They’d been cleaned so that there wouldn’t be anything to smell as it decomposed, and it was something that he could burn but it was disappointing that the girl had died so young. It was the one line he never crossed when indulging in his hobby- never children. They were more often than not innocent.
But she was already dead, so with a soft sigh he grabbed the other things he’d brought, dumping a pile of salt on top of the bones and garnishing it with a liberal application of lighter fuel. Once that was done, it was time to flambe it and stand back, waiting for it to turn to ash. It felt like a job well done, and he looked around the house with new eyes.
It was a nice little house without the haunting problem, and maybe he would buy it so that he had somewhere he could stay when he visited. Maybe he could even rent it out. He also decided as he watched the flames, to do a little more research into where the fireplace had come from. From the way the girl was talking, her father telling her that her mother couldn’t find her, it was easy to put the pieces together- that the father had put her in there. There was probably a man out there running free with a crime of passion on his conscience and a mother who had no idea where her daughter was.
He’d like to find this father and have a very strong word with him- preferably with the man tied to his rack- and the conversation would involve some very convincing arguments about why you shouldn’t kill children.
As the flame died down, with so little fuel to keep it going, he packed up his things into the duffle bag and put the iron poker back on the holder. He could fix the concrete in the morning after it had cooled down, he thought. Right now it was getting late and he was tired, even if the completion of the mission had given him the slight buzz that success always did.
The power tingled down his spine through his skull and made Andre pause, letting out a soft groan and making his eyes close. He pulled back, sucking him clean as he did so and looked up, letting out a breath.
"Do that again," he pleaded, his eyes dark with need.
The demon let out a soft sigh of pleasure as Andre’s lips and tongue ran over him, bringing a sharp jolt of pleasure. He was nearly perfect…
"Greedy boy." Paxton grinned down, fingers tugging roughly at the dark hair. He looked absolutely delicious, kneeling there, begging for another taste of what Paxton could offer.
"Then let me earn it," The begging was placed with something more mischievous as he shifted his hands kneading them into Paxton's thighs and licked his lips.
"I’m," The voice in his head was thick with shame as he took in a quick assessment of how he was feeling, "I’m not strong enough."
It was hard to admit, but he consoled himself with the idea that with more sessions he would grow stronger and would be able to take this offered trip to wherever he was going to take him.
"Now that’s a pity." Paxton laughed, the sound rolling through Andre before the demon began to pull back. He didn’t stop until he was out of the human’s body and snugly back in Johnathan’s.
"We’ll just go some other time then. Right now you need to sleep."
"Yes," Andre said through labored breaths, "Thank you."
He was tired in ways he'd never been before, but a feeling of gratitude filled his chest as his eyes slid closed and he tried to find the strength to move.
Even though he moved slowly, creeping around so that he could listen carefully, it only took seconds to get to the room at the other end of the house. By the time he got there though, the light was off as if it was all a dream and the sound of child’s laughter echoed in his ears.
Either the ghost had a deep love of clichés, or the kitschy ghost stories in popular media had more credibility that he’d originally given them credit for.
He heard the click of the light switch and turned to find another light on. A smile spread across his lips as he headed towards it; the same kind of smile he’d wear if he could actually see the child. He was playing, and he thought it was cute.
The same giggling could be heard when he got to the next room as well, the light gone, though it waited until he was standing just in the door to switch off. Thinking quickly, he turned his phone’s light to the ceiling, turning the camera on and scanning it around the room. Maybe if he had any kind of night vision option on his camera, it would have shown something, but it didn’t, so it was fruitless.
With a sigh, Andre decided to lower the weapon. If it was a kid, walking around with an iron pole in his hand like a sword probably wasn’t going to make them show themselves. If it wasn’t; well he had friends in low places, so he wasn’t really afraid to die. His main thought was that he didn’t want to disappoint his mother and do it on her birthday.
“Hello, my name’s Andre,” He called out, talking to the walls as he headed back towards the entranceway and the kitchen. “What’s your name?”
There was no response, and part of him felt foolish for even trying, but before he got to the end of the hall, an apparition appeared, running into the living room.
His hear thudded for a moment as he came to terms with the fact that he was actually doing this- it was like some kind of movie the way he was contacting the supernatural that he couldn’t touch or feel. Even though he was friends with a demon, there was something else and it felt quite surreal.
“Daddy says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
When he got into the living room, he saw the girl sitting beside the fireplace, warming her hands on a fire that wasn’t there. She looked around seven, but with horror he realised that the clothes didn’t seem all that dated. He was expecting someone in period costume with lace and floral patterns or- well anything that wasn’t the glittery Justin Bieber shirt that the spirit wore.
“I’m not a stranger,” Andre said carefully, going to sit next to her but keeping his distance. “My name’s Andre and I want to buy this house, but I can’t really do that until you move out.”
She was so young, and something about her eyes looked sad. He knew the look. He’d seen it in custody cases too many times, and knew that she’d seen some terrible things before she died.
“If you leave this place I know the new place will be nice. But I need to know where you are first.” He couldn’t just outright say ‘I need to know where you’re buried.’ This was a delicate situation and he wondered if she even knew she was dead.
“Daddy says we can’t move out. I’m stuck inside, but that’s okay ‘cuz Mummy can’t find me here.” Her knees curled up to her chest and she watched the flames that were invisible to him flicker and dance in front of her.
So it was something like a custody case. He decided not to push her on that subject. That was a good way to make her shut down, especially if the split was recent.
“Well that’s why I’m here,” Andre mirrored her expression, curling his knees up to his chest and smiling reassuringly at her. I can help you get to a better place, but you just have to tell me where you’re sleeping.”
“I’m not sleeping, idiot,” She rolled her eyes. There was a lot of sass in such a small package and his smile became genuine. She was sweet. “I’m dead.”
And that was her final word before she disappeared again; leaving Andre on his own with a cold feeling as if the fire had gone out.
I the demon didn’t want him to talk, he wouldn’t, letting Paxton use him as he pleased. His head bobbed back and forth, tongue stroking along his length wrapped in his lips and swallowing every time he went deeper, to squeeze at his head with the muscles of his throat.
A quiet hiss escaped between Paxton’s teeth when Andre swallowed, pulling him deeper into the heated pleasure. He held himself still, control clamping down on his desire to fuck past the kneeling man’s lips and take his own satisfaction. Instead he waiting, fingers tugging harshly at Andre’s hair as he sent a tiny spark of power through his fingertips against his skin.
The powe tingled down his spine through his skull and made Andre pause, letting out a soft groan and making his eyes close. He pulled back, sucking him clean as he did so and looked up, letting out a breath.
"Do that again," he pleaded, his eyes dark with need.
"Let me see them," He said warily, tipping his head to the side. "Something about this place is very wrong and I’m starting to think I’m not in Kansas anymore."
"You’re in London." Crowley grinned, glancing around conspiratorially before lowering his sunglasses on his nose. Green-gold snake eyes met his, and a set of clear eyelids blinked sideways.
"So this is not the world I know." He leaned closer, letting his eyes go red and showing his own demonic side. "I've never seen someone with your eyes. Might I say they're quite beautiful."
They were. They were almost mesmerizing, and it made him wonder just what in hell's name that swirly portal was.
"I like to sit here, usually." He could sense her trepidation, the way she looked around like a frightened animal and the table he motioned to had a very good view of the door and the surrounding shop. It was against a wall so it was intimate, but in an open enough space that it wouldn’t feel claustrophobic.
"Unless there’s somewhere else you wanted to sit?"
Tanya shook her head, sitting down at the table and looking at him with a blank expression that was, for her, a smile. “What did you say your name was?”
"Andre," His smile was kind and just on the innocent side of seductive as he took his own seat, looking across at her. "Andre Soloman." He put his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and puled out a card with his name, number and business on it.
The voice did wonders to calm him, even if the healing process hurt. He was like a frightened mare, and Paxton’s reassuring tone was his rider stroking his mane and murmuring kind words.
He didn’t respond, there were no words to, he just let the praise sink into him and soothe the wounds in places that the physical healing couldn’t get to.
"I'm," The voice in his head was thick with shame as he took in a quick assessment of how he was feeling, "I'm not strong enough."
It was hard to admit, but he consoled himself with the idea that with more sessions he would grow stronger and would be able to take this offered trip to wherever he was going to take him.
What Paxton finds adorable varies widely from a newborn kitten to someone going through great trouble to make secret plans to overthrow Paxton and take the “Prince” title for themselves.
Who is louder? Andre. Paxton likes to hear all the little things he can pull out. Paxton is chattier though.
Who is more experimental? Andre. He’s exploring so many new things that he’d never even dreamed of. Of course Paxton is always willing to open the doors and give a little nudge.
Who takes more risks? Andre. What’s not risky about being with a demon who tortures you occasionally?
Do they fuck or make love? Fuck, definitely. That’s not to say there isn’t some calmer stuff on the side though.
Lights on or off? Dimmed. Paxton can see either way though.
Who is more likely to be caught masturbating? Andre. Paxton is the one who comes to visit, not the other way around.
Who comes first? Andre. Paxton likes to work it out of him.
Who is better at oral and who prefers it? Paxton prefers giving it of the two, but it’s a prize seldom won.
Who is more submissive? Paxton probably acts more submissive… To an outside viewer anyway. The power play here isn’t as it always seems though.
Who usually initiates things? Paxton. He calls the shots here. Andre has ways of getting what he wants though.
Who is more sensitive? Andre. Paxton likes to play it out too.
As soon as he got the message he hopped up out of bed, looking around at what he had on him and making a mental list of where to get the other items. He was lucky that his mother had decided that the party would be at the house- the keys were with her other keys.
Once his parents were in bed he'd he got a bag and filled it with what he'd need, heading silently over to the house.
The drive was quiet, even though the streets themselves did have cars and pedestrians on them, it was a quiet town compared to New York. The fact that he avoided the main downtown area and stuck to the suburbs meant that he barely saw a soul.
Once he got to the house, he was met with silence. The lights on all the other houses in the street were off with the exception of one or two which seemed to be bedrooms or home offices; most people were already asleep. The sound of keys jingling seemed loud in comparison as he let himself in and gently closed the door behind him.
The first order of business was arming himself. He didn’t turn the lights on, instead using his phone as a flashlight, and headed towards the room with the fireplace. He needed iron- the message had said so- so he went for something a little easier to wield than the frying pan he’d grabbed as a backup plan. The fireplace was old and rustic looking, complete with a matching tray of pokers and tools to complete the look which seemed to be cast iron.
When he picked it up, it was cold and heavy and confirmed his suspicions- they were definitely iron. He just hoped they were pure enough.
Leaving the duffel bag in the corner, he pulled out the salt, lighter and fuel and filled his pockets, loading up for the trek through the house. He needed to find whatever it was haunting the place if he wanted to find the body- he needed to know who he was looking for.
He crept through every room, careful to tread lightly and keep an ear open for any sign of a presence. Every now and again, he’d call out quietly enough hat the neighbours wouldn’t get suspicious, but loudly enough that someone in the next room could hear him.
It took a little over ten minutes before he got an answer to his call in the tune of a light turning on a little ay down the hall. Nobody was in the house but him, he was quite sure of it, so the fact that it seemed like a response made him smile.
It was just like being a hunter, he thought as he headed towards it. It was best to know your enemy, so it was time to meet them.
He did fight at first through the terror. Even though he’d become accustomed to ad even enjoyed the idea of demons and possession, the only other time he’s been in the position to be possessed himself, it was a moment filled with panic that the current sensation called back through his subconscious.
He clenched his fists and screamed, the chocking feeling filling his mouth and lungs. It took a moment before his conscious mind took over and he relaxed, allowing the demon inside his mind.
Paxton wasn’t deterred at all when Andre began to fight back, though there was a moment of amusement as he felt the terror flood through the man’s system. It never really got old.
Soon though Andre relaxed and Paxton filled his body, sinking into muscle and bone easily. The body was his now, at least for a few minutes and he set to work, finding all the breaks and injuries he’d inflicted and forcing the body into overdrive. Skin and tissue knitted together, bone slipped back into place and fused as if they’d never broken. It only took a few seconds but as he worked Paxton hummed in Andre’s brain.
The voice did wonders to calm him, even if the healing process hurt. He was like a frightened mare, and Paxton's reassuring tone was his rider stroking his mane and murmuring kind words.
He didn't respond, there were no words to, he just let the praise sink into him and soothe the wounds in places that the physical healing couldn't get to.
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