sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: To the winner goes the spoils. The spoils is Johnny's tongue.
⋆.˚ ☽ ᴛᴀɢs: little bit dom reader; look ma no hands; outercourse; messy boy
ᴀɴ: Starting a short series of fantasies I'd thought of writing as generic first/second person and putting on reddit but the 141 guys fit the ideas I have very well, so let's have a bit of fun with them • ᴗ < and kinktober is the perfect time to indulge!
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“You wanna play a game?”
To anyone else, that would be an odd thing to whisper into your boyfriend’s ear while sitting half naked in his lap. But Johnny’s familiar with your penchant for trickery.
“Aye, whit’ve ye got for us this time?”
You kiss his nose and lean back to look over the man beneath you, shirtless, close to flashing you when he preens and stretches under your appraisal, and the loose waist of his shorts inches down his hips. You are in a similar state of undress, panties and an old shirt of his. It is noon on your only shared day off and the bed has yet to release either of you from its comfort.
Biting your lower lip, you walk two fingers over the cut of muscle that starts at his hip, trailing down its slope until it intersects the thicket of his happy trail and the hem of his pants. You hook a finger over the elastic and tug and when his head pops over the edge, blushing and winking wetly, you and Johnny laugh the same punched-out sigh of lewd incredulity.
“How about my pussy makes out with your dick and whoever comes first loses?”
Johnny laughs again but his interest makes itself known in the twitch of his cock against your knuckles. “That all? Yer gonnae hump me like a school girl with her first jo? Pure pimps.”
His smile is all teeth and self-assurance wiped away when you catch his hands halfway up your torso and pin them down by his head. Leaning over him has the added effect of introducing your covered mons to the underside of his hardening cock and you settle in deeper with a languid wiggle of your hips. “And we can’t touch each other. Still think it’s pimps?” Your attempt at his Scottish brogue falters around the giggles you press into his pouting lips. “Unless you can’t handle it?”
His hands flex around yours and, eyes closed, you let him weigh his odds while dragging your lips over his face in coaxing kisses. You grace the edge of his jaw with one final tease and, as unhurried as the sun breaking over the horizon, turn your gaze to meet his apprehensive stare. The challenging cock of your eyebrow is what settles it. “Aye, I can do it! Am no wee barra that’ll come his pants that fast.”
There is a whirlwind of motion as you stand to strip and Johnny throws his shorts across the bed. You clamber back over him, sitting up on your knees as you straddle his waist. His hands come out and hover by your hips. He glares at them a moment, then curses under his breath—”Feck.”—before reaching up to the headboard and grabbing hold of the bottom lip. You can hear the squeeze of the wood under his grip as he looks down at where your cunt hovers above his cock, twitching and turgid.
You look at each other at the same time and his voice lacks the same level of conviction from moments ago. “Whit’s the prize?”
“Winner gets to use the loser however they want.” Your head tilts to the side as you stroke up and down your sternum, hand drifting left or right to catch a hardening nipple on the edge of your fingers. The curl of your smile is lascivious, the coo of your voice saccharine and you can feel the hairs on Johnny’s skin stand up against the inside of your thigh. “Deal?”
His throat bobs around a dry-mouthed swallow. He jerks a nod. “Deal.”
You can see the tension of his body, feel the anticipation of the coiled muscles beneath you but when your lips make no move to kiss him, he melts into the sheets. Johnny’s blue eyes flicker between the apex of your legs and your fingertips trailing goosebumps along your torso. Impatience chisels at the fine lines of his furrowed brow, makes itself audible in the smack of his lips. He rolls his hips, attempting to slide the head of his cock between your wet heat but you move with him, cresting higher on your knees. A groan scratches the back of his throat.
“Greas ort, hen!”
“Dinna fash, Johnny.” Despite the pride puffing up his chest at his speechcraft rubbing off on you, Soap rolls his eyes but they stop halfway to track your other hand coming around your hip, reaching down to pet at the damp hair of your pussy. Two fingers spread and with it your lips so your clit peeks from under its hood. With a languid sweep of one finger, you wet the bundle of nerves using the thick, pearlescent arousal leaking from your cunt. Your plundering breaks the seal and more slick dribbles like honey onto the underside of Johnny's cock and his breath catches in his throat. “Just making sure it's a smooth ride.”
When your fingers and lips glisten, you lower your backside onto Johnny's lap. You snatch your hand back before it touches him, determined not to lose your own game so soon, and meet the pulsing rigidity of his cock with a wet kiss. Twin slow exhales stutter through the air. A small shift of your weight settles you further and you pause to appreciate the heat of your sexes melding together.
You occupy your hands with your breasts and, flashing Johnny a quick grin, begin to roll your hips. The sweat of his hands squeak against the wood of the bedframe and his mouth falls open as he watches the length of his prick become encased in your slick. Neither of you can tear your eyes away from the obscenity. Sparks race along your spine as your clit nudges the ridge of his cockhead and then surmounts it, meeting his leaking slit and mixing his pre with your own, smearing the concoction down his dick as you cant backwards until you sit on his thighs. Time feels to melt away under your metronomic sway, marked only when you drop your hips to chase Johnny’s pleasured whine or when you pull back to stave off your own excitement threatening to overwhelm you.
Not until his chest is heaving and your slick drips down his balls does it dawn on Johnny that he is as much a player in this game as you. He starts to meet your undulations with his own. He dogs you when you back away, thwarting your attempts at alleviation and meets you when you retaliate so that your lower halves stay locked in a messy make out session. The roil of his muscles beneath tan skin demands your attention and your palms itch to run along his trim obliques, to trace his defined abdomen up until you hold his pectorals in your hands instead of your own. You would use your grip for leverage, find the perfect angle to grind the concupiscence into your bones until it fuses to your soul, until you are both blissed out messes with stardust in your eyes. The image is undeniably tempting and you find yourself chasing it, tilting forward before instinct kicks in and your hands slap the top of the bedframe lest you fall face first into your boyfriend. Beneath you, Johnny manages a weak chuckle on the scant air left from his panting.
Your fumble renews his vigor, if the cloying smirk and increased pace of his thrusts is any indication, leaving you to your tried and true method to get Johnny to come: dirty talk.
“Wanna know what I’ll do when I win?”
This laugh is more breathless than the last as the new angle catches the head of his cock at your hole. When your words make their way through the blissful static, he shakes his head.
“When? Yer right maikint—”
“When I win,” you lean down as low as you can hold yourself, until Johnny’s blown out stare finds your own. Your hips ease into a torpid rhythm matching the pace of your words as you drawl, “I’m gonna fuck your face just . . . like . . . this.”
Johnny’s retort is swallowed by the moan that starts low in his stomach, vibrates up his chest and claws its way out of his mouth. His dick pulses between your lips and the first shot of come lands on his chest. Game over, you grab for each other, his hands kneading the fat of your ass and continuing to rock you against him, yours tugging at his mohawk until your mouth finds his in a kiss that is all tongue and billowing breaths. As he rides his orgasm and the waves roll out, you lie over him, ignoring the cooling spend squished between your stomachs. The kisses slow with the evening of his breath and the last is met with a heavy sigh and your curious eyebrow.
“. . . cannae believe I lost.”
“I can.” Johnny rolls his eyes at your cheshire smile but cannot help grinning back and slapping a rough hand against your flank. With a parting kiss, you rise and start wiggling your way up his body, smearing your arousal and his come across his chest on your way to his mouth. “Now, open up, Johnny-boy.”
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Kid knows just how to do it, whether he knows it or not.
⋆.˚ ☽ ᴄᴡ: none other than pwp/nsfw
ᴀ/ɴ: I previously wrote one of these drabbles for Inasa from BNHA but then I got into OP and jumped on the Kid train and realized he was perfect for this so he gets his own version. If I can think of other interesting scenarios for this prompt, I might continue with other characters.
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“Don’t touch it!”
You swat Kid’s hand away in its focused descent down your thigh. Compared to his fortitude, your slap is a breeze on the wind but he pulls back as though stung. Kohl and worry line his golden gaze as he looks you over, taking in the stochastic rise and fall of your chest; the shining wet pink of your tongue as it falls from your slack jaw; the quiver of your thighs around his hips pinning him to his seat inside of you.
His grimace of concern twists into a conceited grin. And it’s that—not him grinding a thumb over your clit, not him using you like a toy—that does you in, has you cumming around his cock seconds after he’d put it in. The assured set of his shoulders and his unwavering, some say hardheaded, confidence are what drew you to him in the first place but you never imagined it would be your undoing.
You just know Kid's going to lord it over you forever now.
"Had me worried somethin' was wrong." The rumble of his voice travels from his chest down to where you connect and paired with pressure of your cunt pulling him further in, skirts the vibrations over your still sensitive glands, sustaining your orgasm further. You twitch when his punctuated laughs echo pleasure at the apex of your legs until they fade and the weight of him is no longer a threat.
Kid's still choking down a chuckle when his flesh hand resumes its journey, now an unstoppable force against your half-hearted groping. "But looks like you're just a wee slag." He guffaws again, either at his own comment or the way you jump when his thumb presses hard on your clit. His hips draw back and in the quiet left behind in the wake of his boisterous amusement, the slurp of his cock fighting its way out of your wet, tight cunt echoes between your bodies until he's sat just the bulbous tip inside you.
"Let's see if you can do it again, aye, lass?"
hihi! i was wondering if you could write some hcs for the demon brothers thigh fucking you when they’re needy(consensual ofc)? oh and gn please! thanks, have a nice day!! <3
I’m not saying I’m into thigh fucking but uh... ok yeah I am saying it (๑´ㅂ`๑) It’s like you read my mind. Thank you for submitting a request and pls enjoy!
Behind a cut because long post is long
Lucifer
With Lucifer, you rarely ever do anything twice as he comes up with various ways and places to fuck you, so it's surprising that your thighs haven't gotten any attention other than from his mouth.
But the first time it happens, you two haven't seen each other for a week as he's been busy with whatever work Diavolo gives him. You don't even realize he's back until you get a text telling you to go to his room.
When you arrive, he doesn't even greet you. "Undress," is all he says and before you know it, he's bending you over the table you usually have tea at, the cool surface sending a shiver down your spine as it makes contact with your bare chest.
You hear the clink of his pants coming undone but rather than his familiar heat against your backside, it's a bit lower and he smears a glob of precum over the back of your thighs before he slips between them. At this angle, with the curve of his dick, each rut against your ass drags him against your own sex but it's only enough to keep you on edge. You whimper and it's obvious he's doing it on purpose by the dark chuckle in your ear.
He finishes quickly, though you know it's not the end of the night, slipping from between your thighs and finishing on the swell of your ass. He thumbs both cheeks apart and watches it drip slowly down. "We'll have to do that again... I want to take my time with you."
Mammon
When is this boy not needy? You know he wants something but he never brings it up himself; he's been hanging on to you all day (so much more than usual that even others ask you what's up with him) and you catch him staring at you, eyes noticeably lower than your face until he realizes you're watching him and looks away with cherry red cheeks.
You end up in your usual position on his bed, lying on your back with him lounging between your legs, face hidden in your chest. He mumbles discontentedly and wiggles around like he can't get comfortable until you straight up ask him what his problem is. He squeezes your thigh with one hand and he can't look you in the eye, even as he turns his face to yours. "Can I, ah... do it here?"
In the end, it's hard to say no to those puppy dog eyes and yeah, it sounds kinda hot. He undresses you and himself immediately after you nod, using his powers so your clothes are there and then gone between blinks. He pulls your legs up and together, hooking his thumbs under your knees and slides his heat between your thighs.
He's worked himself up too much thinking about it all day so his first orgasm is quick, making a mess over your lower stomach. He leans on your legs for a moment as he catches his breath, eyes flickering over your flushed body, watching the rise and fall of your chest, how you lick your lips.
He cants his hips again, slowly, relishing in the jiggle of flesh and bouncing it faster as his pace increases. And he stays like that for hours, rubbing the underside of his dick, slick with his cum, against your sex and nibbling at your knees each time the pleasure overtakes him. "I wanna stay here all night... ok?"
Leviathan
You consideration yourself lucky when you catch Levi watching porn. He's tucked into his bathtub, under a cover, with headphones in, so he didn't even hear you enter his room. You throw the blanket back and he jumps up, inadvertently tossing his phone from his hand. The headphone jack falls out as the phone clambers to the bottom of the tub and moans echo in the small space.
You're the first to pick it up and you grin as you watch the video on screen, asking if he'd like to try it out. He's red, hiding his face behind a fist and the obvious tent in his pants with the blanket he had wrestled back from you. But he nods and says, "Y-yeah, I wanna do it like they did."
He sits on his computer chair and lets you get things ready, undressing the both of you, until he seems to remember something and goes to his dresser. He surprises you by pulling out a pair of stockings that look very similar to the one in the video, but you don't say anything because he's so red and looks on the brink of backing out, and now that you know he's into thigh fucking, you can't push him too much. You’ll leave the teasing for next time.
When you sit in his lap, his chest to your back, the head of his dick peaks out from between the swell of your thighs. He keeps his hands on your hips and you tilt them up and down. The lacy edges of the socks catch on his curves and become stained with his precum leaking like a faucet across your thighs.
When he finally cums, it's with an excited moan and his face pressed into your back. Your thighs and torso are a mess and you wonder how long he's been holding it in or if he's fantasized about this for so long that he couldn't help himself. "That was... gg."
Satan
Without fail, when you know that you have enough time to be alone, Satan will have you undressed and propped up in his room while you wait for his next command. You've been like this for what feels like hours, reading some book about Devildom history out loud to the brother lounging with his head in your naked lap.
The situation wouldn't be so bad if he kept his hands to himself and if he weren't so close, but he caresses your calves and the heat of his breath blossoms along the tops of your thighs. He could easily lean forward and pleasure you with his wicked mouth, but he hasn't moved any closer since you both sat down.
You want to whine when he asks you, "Could you read me that one next?" and points to the far wall, detailing the red, ornate cover you should be looking for. Ever the obedient one, you cross his room, though not without a pout that you make sure he can see, and start searching the bookcase.
You don't hear him behind you, only feel his breath against your neck, his hand on your hip to keep you in place. He drags his dick down from the top of your ass to the backs of your thighs and with his other hand, spreads your legs slightly to slip his cock between them. The only thing you have to hold on to is the bookcase as he moves your hips over his with the grip at your side.
It's truly torturous, the kisses at your neck and the glide of his head against you enough to get you worked up but nothing more. Pushing himself flush against your ass, he breathes heavy into the little hairs at the back of your neck before hooking his chin over your shoulder and then frowning at one of the rows of books. "It's a good thing I know a spell for stains."
Asmodeus
You know Asmo has a long list of things he wants to do to you, things you can do to him, and some that require an extra party or two. Anything you're uncomfortable with he'll cross off and never mention again, but you're surprised it's taken this long to get to something as relatively vanilla as thigh fucking.
But you can't complain when he's directing you to undress, "Go ahead and show me that beautiful body of yours," in that lust tinged voice and setting you backwards in his lap. He leans back so you can lie against him, opening your neck for him to kiss and nibble at the skin.
This position has two big advantages. He can reach around your body and touch you, running his hands over your chest, up and down your sides, at the apex of your legs. And with the chair so low to the ground, you can hold yourself up by arms and plant your feet, knees still tucked so the meat of your thighs presses together and rock yourself up and down his cock.
When you tire, he helps by holding you by the hips and letting you put your full weight against him, resting the muscles of your arms and legs. You keep your ankles crossed as he begins to move on his own, in and out, the flushed red of his head peaking through and winking with pre. It smears across you leg, hot and slick.
He comes with a bite to the fat of your shoulder between thrusts so when you spread your legs again, it dribbles down the insides of your thighs. Asmo licks the shallow wound with a canorous hum as you finally spill over in his hand. "Let's do that again, but this time, I want to be on top."
Beelzebub
When your lover is as blessed in size as Beelzebub, you have to get creative with positions or you would be sore all the time. It's a pleasant ache, but you've got to give yourself some time to recuperate so you suggest he fucks your thighs instead.
You can tell he doesn't quite get the point, staring at you silently as he thinks over your request, but he's always particular about keeping you safe, overly worried about your human delicacy, so he replies, "Ok, yeah, let's try it," and nods enthusiastically.
He likes you on top—so he can see your face, he says, but you know it's also because he likes to grab your ass—so you move into position, lying straight across his body with your knees between his. You rest your chin on your hands folded over his chest and watch him get to work.
It's obvious he's surprised by how good it feels. His mouth falls open with the first cant of his hips against yours, gliding his dick amid your thighs. With a firm fistful of your rear, he pulls you down as he pushes up, and pressed against the tight muscles of his stomach, each ridge teases you as he works himself into a frenzied pace.
Your hot breaths mingle as you bend down to kiss him on the lips, across his cheeks, the furrow in his brow. The grip on your ass could leave bruises as he cums across the back of your thighs, your own, soft pleasure rolling through you and you both reach up to kiss each other as the tingles dissipate. "Can we do that again sometime, please?"
Belphegor
It usually starts with him whimpering in your ear as he wakes up from another nap, your name on his lips and you ask him, red in the face, what he was dreaming about. He'll tell you how good you looked underneath him as one hand curls around your side to bring you into his chest.
His dirty words are enough of a distraction from what his other hand is doing that you don't even realize he's slid his pants down until he's slipping between your thighs, made easy when he's the big spoon.
Sometimes he just stays there without doing anything else and falls back asleep. "It's warm," is his excuse. It makes you antsy, waiting for him to move and he laughs, low and cruel as you wiggle around and squeeze his arm around your side. When you're really impatient, you reach between your legs and run one finger over the slit peaking between your thighs and then he's not holding back.
He loves to finish with his cock head poking from between your thighs and then look over your body, noting the mess on your shorts. But he won't let it go to waste, running his fingers through it and beneath your underwear to finish you off.
And if you agree to it, there are many nights each week you'll wake up in the same position, sometimes as he's announcing his orgasm with a pitiful whine, sometimes as your own is rolling in. "I had that dream again and couldn't help myself."
"Shh, shut up, shutupshutup," you say between gritted teeth. You close your eyes and focus on breathing around the swell of Inasa's cock splitting you open. Your orgasm lingers on the edges of your consciousness like the sea foam of a receding tide as you try to keep it at bay. Inasa has worked you up good, never quite letting you get there, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of making you cum just from a single thrust inside. Last time, he'd had a smug smile on his face all day and you just couldn't have that again.
He presses lazy kisses into your collar bone as he waits. Your tap on his shoulder is his signal to move. Large hands wrapped around your hips lift you up and then drop you back down into his lap with a pleasured cry. It takes two thrusts this time for you to come undone around him and Inasa makes a mental note to try harder next time.
It’s your first orgasm tearing through you that wakes you up. Only then do you feel the smoldering heat of Dabi’s hand against your hips as he thrusts himself inside you, fingers of his other still working at your clit. You throw your head back and whine, brain still foggy with sleep and trying to piece together the thoughts scattered by another impending orgasm. Your face is shoved into the pillow beneath you so your cries are smothered as he rolls from his side to hover behind you. The first slap of his hand against your ass stings your rear and your ears but you can’t concentrate on the pain, now a muted throb as he keeps bringing his hand down. All you can feel is the jerking of your body as he pounds you in the bed and the white hot heat that consumes you when he hits that spot over and over. Your pussy clenches tight around him when he finally stills, hand clamped into the fat of your ass, breath heaving into your ear. When your senses come back, you can smell sweat and smoke, burning flesh.
Judging by the growing wetness between your thighs, you know he’s cum already but he makes no move to leave, still bottomed out inside of you. Just when you’re about to ask him to get up so you can go clean, he’s leaning all his weight into you. One hand shoves you down so your ass is pushed up higher, somehow pushing him in even deeper and the other wraps around the back of your neck so you’ll have half-moon scars down the front come morning. He picks up where he left off and doesn’t stop. Not when the sun comes up, not when your alarm goes off. Not until, even though he finishes one last time on the cherry red of your ass, you still feel the ghost of him inside you.
AO3 Link
pwp
Summary: "Hey, Mammon, what are you up to?""Nothing much, just hanging around."You find Mammon in an embarrassing situation. You'll help him out, but only if you get something out of it as well.
Satan and Lucifer had finally gotten to sleep after their bickering about who would get the bed—the same bed that supposedly belonged to me, though neither of them bothered to ask my opinion—and I still could not sleep as they both grumbled drowsy threats. At least when Mammon sleep talked it was funny, his excuses for missing payments as horrible in his sleep as during the day. And Beelzebub’s exclamations were sweet, both literally and figuratively, as he most often dreamed aloud about eating cream puffs. One time, he very clearly shouted my name and then shoved an invisible treat into my mouth before drifting back to sleep.
Even though I was tired from entertaining four brothers that afternoon, my mind was racing with ideas on how to help improve Satan and Lucifer’s relationship while simultaneously convincing them to enter a pact with me. And in the back of my mind, a constant voice since I had agreed to help the nameless human trapped upstairs, an inkling of doubt echoed in my mind. I needed air and a quiet place to think.
Sneaking silently through my own bedroom, I was met by the bitter cold of Devildom as I stepped into the hall and thanked myself for having half a mind to grab sweater, one that I now recognized as Satan’s. I wrapped it around me and had just decided to go to the kitchen for a midnight snack—half out of bored hunger, and half in hopes that I’d run into Beel and could convince him to home me another night—when I heard a sound in the shadows.
I froze in my tracks but it was silent once again. I widened my eyes as far as I could stretch them but the faint moonlight and dimly lit torches were not enough for my human eyes to adjust. My ears strained to hear something that wasn’t there, attempting to will the sound back into existence so my flight or fight instincts could be answered when a pitiful wail punctuated by sniffles resounded near the staircase.
“Mommy…”
A different chill raced along my skin now, one that the flimsy sweater could not drive away. I was no stranger to the history and legend of this building, having spent a few sleepless nights awake after exchanging scary stories with Asmo one night. Despite the rush of blood sounding in my ears, I crept toward the stairs. On the landing, I realized the weeping came from a recess on the right hand side and if I rounded the corner, I would be able to see the face of the thing—I refused to think the “g” word else I will it into existence—that haunted the House of Lamentation.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, then counting to twenty, then exhaling to inhale again—I jumped from behind the wall and came face to face with—Mammon tied up and hanging from the ceiling. The adrenaline rushed out of me all at once. I felt like a sack of bones rattling against each other and all I could do was stare up at him until he noticed me.
“Ah, you! P-please, you gotta help me!” Mammon’s blue eyes shined with unshed tears though he smiled at my unexpected arrival. He tugged at the ropes holding his arms and legs but they secured him spread eagle against the wall. “Lucifer made Beel string me up and hang me upside down!”
With his arms pulled tight, Mammon’s shirt crept up his torso to expose some of his lower stomach, and it took me a moment to focus on the falsity of his statement. “But you’re not upside down.”
He shot me a look that very clearly stated his displeasure at my lack of fawning over his predicament. “Beel agreed to at least hang me right side up in exchange for some gum.” He struggled again but might as well have been a fly caught in a spider’s web. He did not budge. “He’s too damn strong. These ropes are so tight that I can’t manage to break free no matter how hard I try…”
I stepped forward to investigate, pulling tentatively at a section that kept his leg in place. It remained taut and I couldn’t begin to tell how to unknot it despite my close inspection. To myself, I muttered, “I’ll have to ask Beel about his affinity for tying people up…”
Speaking over me at the same time so that he missed my comment, Mammon continued, “Please! You gotta help me…”
I stood up right again and feigned a disapproving frown. After all, he was partly the reason that Satan and Lucifer were at each other’s necks and thus why I was wondering the halls in the middle of night. “I don’t think so. I heard about what you were planning to do with Satan—in Lucifer’s body, something about bribing someone.” Leaning against the wall, I tucked the sweater in closer as I studied him with a level eye. He could handle a bit of my teasing.
“So, even you’re bein’ mean to me now…” Mammon’s lower lip trembled and then his head fell limp between his shoulders. “I thought you were the one person who…”
Ugh, it was hard not to pity him a little though I was suspicious to how much of his groveling was genuine and what was an act to get himself down sooner. Channeling my own inner-Lucifer, I asked with as much authority as I could muster, “Have you thought about what you’ve done?”
His head shot up to look at me again, hope sparkling in his eyes. “I have, and I’ll never do it again! So, please…” When I didn’t make any move to help, he whined again, “If you don’t, I’ll hang here like this for at least the next 500 years… if I’m lucky!”
Hmm, that does seem a bit excessive. I pushed myself off of the wall to stand directly in front of him and smiled. “All right, fine. I’ll let you down.”
Mammon practically glowed before I even finished my sentence. He wiggled around in what would have been a victory dance were he not plastered to the wall. “Oh, I knew I could count on you, you’re the best!” he sing-songed.
I let him hum excitedly before raising one finger up at him. “On one condition.”
Hesitation darkened his face but he nodded. “O-okay! I’m listenin’! Whatever you want, just say it!”
An idea came to me last minute and I put up another finger. “Well, two things, but the second one is super easy. First, I want you to help me convince Satan and Lucifer to make up.” Maybe there was some other worldly reason for me discovering Mammon like this and I was not going to let it pass me by if I could get some help with my predicament.
He gave me a look that someone who needed rescuing had no right in giving their rescuer. “Satan and Lucifer…make up? Now listen, those two have been at each other’s throats like this ever since Satan was born, you know?” He paused in thought and gave the biggest shrug he could manage against his bindings. “I mean, I guess you could say it’s only Satan that hates Lucifer, but it’s like… Lucifer doesn’t give a flip about how Satan feels, which makes Satan even angrier, so—”
I turned around and began to walk away.
“W-wait, no!” His voice shot up several octaves in desperation. He coughed before continuing, “Don’t leave! Okay, fine, I’ll do it! I’ll help you! Just get me DOWN from heeere!” He huffed against the ropes again and I smiled as I put my two fingers back up.
“And second,” I drew out the words as I stepped closer, resting my hand on his knee. I traced upward, closer to the heated junction of his legs but changed course last minute to his hip. The tips of my fingers danced along the exposed skin at the top of his pants. Mammon’s mouth hung open in an argument lost on the tip of his tongue. “I get to have some fun with you before I let you down.”
I looked up at him expectantly, hand still wresting on his hip, fingers rubbing a small circle into the skin and bone. He snapped his mouth shut and nodded his head but I shook my own back at him.
“Now, you know I only move forward when I get your full, audible consent.” I dropped my hand back to my side and took one step back.
“Y-yes!” A beautiful blush spread across the bridge of his nose. “You can do whatever you want…” The demure way in which he refused to meet my eyes spread a comforting warmth along my own face and I smiled, stepping forward again.
Reaching up, I could only run my fingers along the curve of his jaw and then down the tight muscles of his neck. “Then be a good boy for me and I’ll cut you down right away, ok?” He nodded with heavy sigh as I continued down the front of his body. “And the safe word is Karasu.”
Before he could react, I ran my hand again over the sliver of skin that peaked out between his top and pants, slipping my fingers under the soft cotton of his shirt and reversing my path. He burned hot under my touch. I felt along the hills and valleys of his stomach until I reached his chest, nipple hardening beneath my desperate grasp. Working him between my fingers, I leaned forward until my lips met the cut of his muscle against his hip. A satisfied groan started in Mammon’s chest, reverberating in my grip on his nipples and into my mouth against his hip.
I peppered kisses along the hem of his pants until the panting above me reached a satisfactory level. My free hand started at the swell of his thigh, found the button of his pants and fumbled to pull it undone. I pulled the zipper slowly, pausing dramatically after each click of the clasp coming apart, making it only half way down.
Mammon gave a strangled moan heavy with frustration and sighed, “Hurry up.”
Pulling both of my hands and mouth away, I opened my eyes to catch Mammon’s gaze. “What was that?” I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise and kept my voice even.
“N-nothing! Keep going…please,” he muttered and strained against his holdings as though chasing the ghost of my touch where my hand hovered at his chest. His lips caught between his teeth as he looked down at me, pupils blown wide with longing.
I lowered my hand again to his heated flesh and he sighed audibly the moment our skin met. With my other hand, I put a finger to my lips. “Then be a good boy and keep quiet for me, ok?” He nodded.
I leaned forward again and, watching his face closely, grabbed the cold zipper of his pants between my front teeth. A smile crinkled the corner of my eyes in reaction to the muted hiss that escaped his mouth. His eyes widened in fear but, when I did not reprimand him right away, his expression melted back into one of blissful anticipation.
Legs spread wide, I couldn’t pull his pants all the way down, just enough to his hips to find that, as always, he was not wearing any underwear. I cocked an eyebrow which he answered with a mischievous smirk, a smirk that immediately fell open into another content sigh as I wrapped my hand around the stiff length of him. I raked my nails into the soft flesh around his hip with one hand, and with the other, guided him towards my waiting mouth.
He tasted bitter from sweat but smooth beneath my tongue and smelled musky around the tangle of hair at the base of his shaft. So familiar was the essence of him that I paused, eyes closing, when he hit the back of my throat to bask in the comfort that I felt having him tied up and ready for whatever I wanted to do to him.
A needy sigh blew my bangs around my forehead and I opened my eyes to see Mammon, red faced and silently pleading at me with his heady gaze. He twitched once in my mouth. Fighting a smile, I leaned back, keeping my tongue flat against him until I could run the tip of it along his slit, lapping at the beads of precum that leaked from him with each jerk of my wrist. I lost myself again in the taste of him and the mix of soft and strained panting above me, spurring me to take him in further, to dig my nails deeper until they broke skin.
He was close. I could feel the tension along my tongue on the underside of his erection. When I looked up at him again, his head was thrown back, neck exposed and shining with sweat under the dim light. He twitched once, then again, and I pulled away completely, feeling empty again.
“Wh—” He choked back an enraged protest, fighting his own nature to be the good boy I asked him to be, bless his heart. I could feel his angered gaze boring into my back as I turned to walk away. One step away from the doorway, I shot him a grin over my shoulder, waved, and stepped back onto the landing.
I clutched my sides to keep in the laugh that threatened to burst out of me at the same time that Mammon let out a blood-curdling yell. Walking quickly, or else one of the other brothers should wake up to spoil our fun, I went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. When I returned to the alcove, he was grumbling so angrily, and so fast that I couldn’t understand anything he said as I cut him down. The only word I caught, and which filled me with a sense of dread and longing, was revenge.
Freed from his prison, Mammon glared at me as he readjusted his pants. I tossed aside the knife, out of his reach, when I felt a firm grip around my waist host me into the air and throw me over his shoulder. I finally let out a laugh and wiggled as much as I could to turn and see his face. It was still red, though from anger or arousal, I could no longer tell.
“Where are we headed now?” I asked, as though I did not know the answer.
“My room. Now, it’s your turn to be good.” Catching my eye, he flashed me a wide, conniving grin and then lifted his hand to show me the bits of rope in his grasp. I smiled back and felt my own face flush red as I imagined what revenge was in store for me.
