Chapter 6

Casimir

Rory seems to be avoiding me, and I'm bored. Unable to leave without his permission, I wander the house, exploring. I open drawers, dig through cabinets, and ruffle through any papers that look interesting, but the most exciting thing I've found is a feathered toy with a jingling ball inside that I tossed around for a while.

Shadow eyeballed me the entire time, judging me haughtily for a creature that licks its own ass.

The only room I haven't been inside is the one where he hides, so I walk over and twist the knob. I frown at the resistance against my palm. "Rory, in case you didn't notice, this door is locked."

"I'm aware," he calls from within, voice muffled.

"I can't get in," I observe helpfully.

"That's the point." A frown tugs at my lips. This is not at all what I expected when I got summoned to the human world. Others have told me stories of glorious adventure and evil villains, and my only feats have been to possibly get poisoned and jerk off.

I could do both of those things in Hell on any given Tuesday. Twice on Sunday.

Frustrated and unable to hide my disappointment, I defiantly conjure a tiny burst of magic. The knob twists and I walk in to find Rory sprawled out on his bed, with a strange silver electronic book in front of him.

"How you doin'?" I use the accent other demons like to fake after a visit to the human realm, saying they learn it from their friends, and I want to be Rory's friend.

"What… how'd you get in? Did you pick my lock?"

My brows furrow, not understanding the phrase, but I don't want to expose my magic just yet because that would mean wearing clothes. "Yes… I picked it," I agree with a nod.

He narrows his eyes and glares at me, sweeping his hand in a gesture up and down my body. "And where exactly did you hide a bobby pin?"

A peculiar sensation twists in my stomach at his question. "Who is this Bobby, and why is he hiding from me?" I demand, walking closer.

"What?"

"Bobby Pen! Who is he? I command you to tell me!" Not waiting for his response, I crouch in front of him, the curling in my gut getting stronger. "Is he your lover? Is this why you made me take care of my own erection earlier?"

"N-no…"

"But…" Anger flares in my core as I remember his words. "You said you were lonely. Has this Bobby Pen been an inadequate lover? Has he left you to be alone?" My voice gets louder, more indignant with every unanswered question.

His eyes are wide and mouth sags as he stares, and his lack of response infuriates me further. I rush to my feet, and another of those strange squawk-honks leaves his throat. "Come out, come out, Robert Pen!" I bellow, forcing power into the order. "Casimir demands to have words with you!"

"Cas—"

I whirl to face him, a snarl on my lips and body poised, ready for a brawl. "Do not attempt to stop me! I will have vengeance on this Robert and crush his puny human body—"

"Cas!" he shouts, breaking through my rampage. "There isn't anyone here. I swear, it's just the two of us."

Riled up and bursting with restless energy, I pull my cheek into my teeth and tap my foot. "Then who…"

"A bobby pin is a small metal clip to keep your hair pushed out of your face. You know, to style it? Some people use them to pick locks… well, in movies they do. I've never actually seen it done."

Slowly, I nod, allowing myself to absorb his explanation. "So, not your lover, then?"

"No."

"Right. Got it." Adrenaline runs rampant in my veins now, my body wanting to fight or fuck but not having an outlet for either. I flop onto the bed with him, and he squeaks again, scuttling to the other side of the bed. "Why have you locked yourself in here, away from me?"

Rory sighs, pushing his hands over his face and shaking his head. "Honestly, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Nothing is going right for me these days."

The strange sinking in my gut intensifies as I recognize my role in his sadness. "I am… sor… sor… sorry … that I was not what you wanted," I offer, somewhat clumsily. Apologies are not part of a demon's usual arsenal. We're stubborn creatures on our best day, and even when we're wrong, most will never admit it.

"Oh, Cas," he murmurs, and meets my eyes again. "It's not your fault. It's mine. Granny was my best friend, and when she died, I thought her house and belongings might make her feel like she's still here… still an active part of my life. Then I stumbled onto this magic stuff, and it hurts that she never shared it with me. It makes me wonder how well I really knew her."

"And then," he continues, not giving me a chance to respond, "I make the mistake of looking up my ex to see he's engaged now. We spent six years together, and he left me because I was ‘dull.'"

"Rory, you're not dull," I argue, but I question the truth of that statement as I stare at his pants covered with what appears to be drawings of noodles in white boxes.

He gestures around us with a wave. "The sun is still out and I'm in my pajamas, locked in my bedroom, doomscrolling through social media to see that Johnny is engaged."

My mind spins, only understanding half of what he said, but I'm determined to make it better. "This Johnny was your lover?"

He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "If you could call it that. We were together for years until he left me for someone hotter." The silver device in his hand turns, revealing a picture of two good-looking men who both exude an air of superiority.

"He is hot," I announce, and then add in a rush, "but so are you, Rory."

He snorts, and a smile tugs at my lips. "You might be blind to it, but you are gorgeous," I say with gentle sincerity. "You have that lovely red hair, and those deep green eyes that shine all the way into your soul. I see a lot of dark souls in Hell, Rory—sick and twisted. Yours is nothing like that, it's bright and calming like a warm summer day." I scoot closer as he sucks in a breath, dragging my fingertips along his arm and watching as it pebbles. "That soft, creamy skin and those sweet little freckles. And your body…" I trail off, a magnetic pull in my core surprising me as I realize I am, in fact, deeply attracted to him.

Another quiet, scoffing snort leaves him. "You can't even compliment my body without lying, Cas."

Fueled by the sudden need to prove just how wrong he is, I climb onto all fours and crawl towards him, our eyes locking in a moment of intense connection.

"I want to trace every inch of your body with my tongue… map it with my mouth until I know each contour by heart." My voice is husky as my cock thickens in a rush, and my shoulders shiver as the blood rushes to its destination. "Uncover what's under those clothes and watch your every reaction to my touch. Taste your arousal as I suck your cock into my mouth and fuck you until you fall apart in my arms, calling out for me and begging for more."

I'm hovering over him now, face to face, my cock positively aching with need. "I want to be consumed, Rory. Drown my senses until there's nothing left but you."

"Oh," he finally whispers, and I can't suppress the grin that slides across my face.

"Now that these unwarranted insecurities are out of the way, what do you say?" His eyes slam into mine as I nuzzle my nose against his. "Shall I help you forget him?"

His voice is breathy as he stutters, "I… we… can't…"

"We can," I whisper, nudging my lips against his and savoring his delightful moan that slips loose. "We can do whatever we want." I back up just far enough to look into his eyes. "So, tell me… what do you want?"

There's only a whimper as our lips brush again, a delicious sound that gets trapped inside his throat—thick as honey and just as sweet. It's all I need. My mouth collides with his, relishing his sudden intake of breath as his hands scramble to find purchase on my shoulders. He's cautious at first, then relaxes as his lips move against mine with more intention.

Our kiss continues, unbroken, as I slide up the bed to lie beside him, my leg draping over his hips. His soft thigh is heaven as my hips push forward and my aching cock slides against it. I grind with a deliberate slowness, creating friction that steals my breath.

More… I need more.

A deep, guttural sound escapes my throat as my tongue explores the seam of his lips, growing louder when he opens and meets it with his. My hand feathers over his silky skin, caressing his jawline and brushing over his neck with a touch so delicate, it's nothing more than a ghost that he chases.

His reaction is immediate when I reach his chest—a gasp into my mouth, followed by the arc of his body against mine. It's needy, an instinct he can't control, yet there is a tension in him, as if he fights against it.

Such a futile battle.

My fingers tease his nipple through the thin material of his shirt, and I'm rewarded with another of those delicious whimpers. "Like that, do you?" I murmur into our kiss as I pinch harder, and his nod is frantic against me. As I pull away, a wicked smile spreads across my face, and I take a moment to admire his kiss-swollen mouth before my lips trace the same path my fingers have already forged.

I suckle on the soft skin of his neck, surrounded by his rainwater scent as my teeth scrape over the crook of his shoulder. He pulls me closer, fingertips digging into my shoulders. "Cas," he whimpers as I move lower, my tongue dancing across his shirt and soaking it as I draw his nipple between my lips.

My hand slides over his abdomen and further, cupping his cock through his thin pants. Running my palm along his length, I discover a damp spot in the fabric. "Mmm," I hum against his skin as I scrape my teeth on his nipple, "you are impatient for me, aren't you, my sweet Rory?"

"Oh, this is so bad," he whispers as I continue to drag my hand up and down his shaft, rubbing so slowly he arches into me for more. "But… fuck, so good."

A deep, thick chuckle rumbles in my throat as I wrap my fingers around him through his pants, sweeping in faster strokes as his cock leaps in my grip. "So good, huh? You like that?"

His hair tousles against the pillow as he nods, and I slide my fingers lower, tracing the seam of his balls before reaching the sensitive skin of his taint. The moans that crawl from his throat make my hair stand on end, and his hips rise off the bed, grinding against my touch. Those ridiculous pants are obscenely tented, his cock pushing against the thin fabric.

God, he's fucking hungry.

Unable to resist, my hips surge forward and rock against his leg, the friction overwhelming me to the point where my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

One of his hands claws at my head and wraps around my horn, and the touch causes a pleasure so intense I call out in surprise. Instead of a gradual build, my need for release hits me like a cannon blast. Every nerve in my body ignites, my cock tensing and balls tight, and god, it fucking aches . Glorious agony rushes me, and I need to let go more than I need oxygen—more than I need the blood pumping through my veins.

"Horns…" He hesitates, and my eyes slide up to meet his. "Sensitive."

"Does it hurt?" His tongue flicks between his lips and his eyes shift to where the horns poke through my hair, his hand frozen.

The slight twitch of his fingers is all it takes for me to let out a deep moan, my hips thrusting forward and my cock straining under the touch. A heavy throb in my core spreads a warm dampness between us, a pool of pre-cum soaking his pants as it leaks from my tip. "No, fuck, no. Nothing's ever felt this good," I groan as my dick tenses again, another rush of arousal jetting out.

He runs a finger along my horn as my hips flex, then strokes up to the very tip and back down as a thousand fireworks explode underneath my skin.

There's no more time for playful banter or slow seduction, not when he's shoved me to the edge of delirium. He's stripped away everything except my most primal needs, reducing me to a state of pure instinct.

There's nothing else, nothing but this, him , and I need more.

I need everything.

Whatever he's offering, I want it.

Another moan of his name leaves my lips as my hand slips inside his pants, wrapping my fingers around the hot length of his cock. He strokes my horn like it was my dick, sliding his hand up and down in a maddening rhythm, and his name leaves me like a plea.

A prayer.

If this is my salvation, I'll gladly worship at his alter.

I'm young for a demon, but as heat jettisons down my spine and I fight to regain control, it's like the first time anyone's ever touched me. My hips match his pace, the echo of his grip on my horn wrapped around my cock in a phantom touch. "Gods, what are you doing to me? I've talked all this big game and now I'm going to come before you even touch me."

"Is that a challenge?" he asks, breathy and teasing. He's hard, leaking like a river, and it's all because of me. The way he thrusts into the cage of my fingers is mine. The way he moans as my fist slides over his crown with a twist, the way he gasps and throws his head back as his hips kick forward, down to the way he challenges me by stroking me throughout his pleasure.

It's mine. All fucking mine.

Tiny whimpers and helpless mewls leave his lips as I let out a gravelly laugh, shaking my head. "Wasn't supposed to be."

Another stroke up my horn and I snarl, a heavy rush leaking from my raging cock as I struggle to hold back. It becomes a battle as his sinful hands work my horns and he watches me fight my body.

There's nothing I can do except give in to him completely.

The underside of my cock slides against his leg, slick with pre-cum as my hips rock faster. His second hand grabs my other horn, and my head throws back in a loud cry. "Fuck, fuck, fuck , Rory… that's too much…"

Sensations overtake my body, inside and out, as I feel myself begin to splinter.

Both hands stroke, adding a twist of his wrists that launches me right to the edge. Everything is tight and pounding, and I'm teetering and desperate to fall. A deep, primal growl escapes my lips as I thrust against his soft flesh, drunk on the heat that spreads over my limbs.

"Please," I whine, "do it again."

"Demons are beggars, huh?" he asks, breathless as he teases.

My eyes are manic as they land on his. "You want me to beg? I'll beg… I'll fucking plead on my goddamned knees for you. I'll be anything you want me to be if you'll just fucking do it again." My words end in a moan as he strokes me, giving me what I so desperately need.

Up and down, his hands work my horns, then he squeezes at the base where they meet my skull. My entire body stiffens, and I'm right there , hovering and weightless. "Please, fuck, please, " I gasp, my limbs trembling with the tension, and then all at once, everything is wrung out and released.

My cock erupts, jerking and spattering his thigh with hot, forceful spurts as I shout, my back arcing backward as if hit by electricity. My vision burns white, and my ears are filled with a high-pitched ring as I ride the waves, every muscle in my body pulsing to the same beat.

"Cas… oh, shit, Cas, " he cries, and my name on his lips causes another rope of cum to shoot across his thigh. His hips roll against my fingers, stealing friction from my hand. "That's so… fuck that's hot…"

When cognitive thought returns, I pick up where I left off, tightening my grip on his cock and stroking faster. He whimpers as he gets close, thrusting into my hand, and I'd give my dying breath to watch him fall apart.

Both of us watch the creamy pool on his thigh as it beads and rolls towards the bed. Hand still moving in that same maddening rhythm, I lean forward and slide my tongue along his leg, collecting my cum and bringing it to his mouth. Our moans turn muffled as I thrust my tongue against his, the salty taste of my release passing between us.

With a loud gasp, he tears his lips from mine, his head snapping back and digging into the pillow. Nonsense spills out of his mouth, desperate and garbled, as he dances on the edge. I'm enthralled, observing every tiny reaction on his face, staring at the small drop of white sitting like a dewdrop on his lips.

Something dangerous and possessive awakens inside me, feasting on the noises that leave his throat and the hammering of his cock as he comes. Hot, thick bursts pepper his stomach and chest before flowing down my fingers. Aftershocks still ripple through my body, causing me to shudder as I work him through his orgasm.

"Shit," he gasps, and I slow my motion but squeeze at the root of his cock, enjoying the slowing, weakening pulses. A gentle swipe over the tip jolts his whole body, and I grin at the shiver.

"Cas," he half groans, half moans, and my fingertips lazily dance over his stomach as he glances down at the aftermath of our fun. He swallows roughly as he shakes his head. "That shouldn't have happened," he finally says, and I lean forward and plant a gentle kiss on his lips to calm the rising panic.

That beast inside me roars and rampages, wanting to pin him down and force him to take back that statement. Demands to fuck him until he submits to the claim I'm staking on him.

As I take a deep breath, filling my lungs and clearing my head, I know I can't do that, so I fall back to my defaults—a lazy smile and calm exterior. "But it was good, yes?"

He rolls his eyes at my smugness, letting out a huff of frustrated air. "Yes," he admits, and my smile spreads.

I glance at the mess we made, the turbulence in my head clearing. "Maybe you were right, and we should have handled this in the bathing room." He snorts weakly, still a relaxed puddle on the bed. I rise on my elbow, trailing a finger through the damp spot on his thigh before moving to the mess on his chest. "We both probably need a bath after this one."

He groans and hides behind his hand, muttering on a heavy breath. "What have we done?"

What have we done, indeed.