Peyton and Fell 001

Something had Zepar stirring closer to the surface.

Fell was not always aware of his demon. They hadn't been together long, though sometimes he felt a strange and wispy sense of familiarity between them. He couldn't put his thumb on it, but it made him wonder... He looked down at the stack of paperwork covering his desk, and sighed. Becoming an assassin had felt so fucking glamorous back when he'd been a young and dumb new recruit to the Death Caste. That was before he realized even killing people came with paperwork. Fell dropped his quill into its jar, to keep the ink wet tip from dripping everywhere, and pushed his seat back. "Peyton!" All was quiet in his study, which was located in a secluded nook of his estate. Probably too much to hope she'd hear him... He glanced out the window at the sun, then made a grumbling noise. How had it gotten so dark? Had to be at least dinnertime by now, and he'd sat down to deal with filing his last ten contracts shortly after lunch.

Use the bells, Zepar suggested. It was and wasn't right to say Fell heard his voice, because he didn't hear it with his ears. The words came from inside of his head, exactly like a thought. If he hadn't been as self-aware as he was, he probably would've mistaken the suggestion as that; a stray thought, inexplicible but harmless.

Fell had learned what a mistake it was to believe anything Zepar was involved with could be harmless. Still, he reached for the bell the demon was talking about. It'd been spelled to have a connection with the bells on Peyton's cuffs; a necessity because of what a sneaky little minx she was. He would've let her move on to taking the trials already, but Zepar had taken a shine to the girl. He was playing some kind of game with her, which was enough to make Fell want to keep his distance. He'd learned a lot since Zepar had come into his life, but the cardinal rule had never changed. Don't get attached.

The demon had a nasty habit of killing the people he cared about when he was in the right (or wrong) mood.

"Dinner," he said to the bell before ringing it. That meant the tone that would come magically from Peyton's cuff bells would be distinct and recognizable: she'd been with them long enough to know what the dinner bell sounded like, and that would be her cue to get Maydra moving on serving his meal. Fell was a well behaved host, so he hesitated: giving Zepar the opportunity to intervene and change his plans if he wanted to, but the demon was silent as the grave. Suspiciously silent, all truth be told.

He considered that on his way up to his bedroom to change out of his working clothes into something more appropriate for dinner. Fell may have killed people for a living, but he had been born among the lower nobility families: it was that upbringing that made him value the little things, like dressing for dinner. Fell headed down the stairs to the dining room, which he ate in every night regardless of whether he was entertaining. He had some friends, mostly younger cityslickers who didn't realize he was milking them out of their inheritances, and more minions besides. Not every night was so peaceful.

Fell was seated at the head of the table when Maydra walked in, carrying a covered platter that he guessed had the bread. The main course was already set on the table, waiting for him to carve into it. His cook - the same one he'd had since he was a young man - pulled the top off the platter like she did for him every night he didn't have company... But something was different tonight.

When he looked at the severed head, which had sat on the platter at least long enough for the blood to congeal, it was Zepar who gazed out of his eyes. The change was subtle but heartfelt, such as in the way he smiled while Maydra shrieked; at first out of shock, and then out of rage. She was still threatening to throttle that slip of a girl once she got her hands on her when she moved to pick up the platter, clearly intending to whisk the severed head away from his dinner table. Everything that went wrong in or out of her kitchen was Peyton's fault, at least as far as Maydra was concerned.

Zepar held up a hand. "Leave it," he ordered coolly. "And then leave me." The demon waited for the huffy cook to walk out of the dining room, then turned toward the armoire in the room. "Are you going to take credit for the prank, or shall I let Maydra strangle you?" Zepar's smile was cruel. "You gave her a fright."

Peyton wasn't always what she was now, she'd once been a part of a largely successful family in the merchant class with more money than they really deserved. Problem had always been the fact that no matter how hard they tried they'd never been able to make her behave like a proper Lady. That was painfully obvious when her parents signed a marriage contract that would have her marrying a man practically at the end of his life when she turned 'of age'. When the day finally rolled around, she refused with great flair. Not only did she literally spit in the face of the man she was supposed to marry but she had ended up gifting him his prized avian creature in a box, maybe a bit torn to pieces. At the time she didn't fully understand the consquences of refusing to honor a marriage contract so to say she was surprised when the Slavers showed up and slapped irons on her wrists would have been an understatement. Even more of a surprise was when she suddenly getting shipped off to serve the Death Caste. That was about the time that she started to take things more seriously and actually put in more effort than she ever had before in her life.

She'd known enough at that point to make herself useful instead of giving the higher rankings of the Death Caste a reason to see her as nothing more than a slave. Which she still completely was but she hadn't learned nothing during her time at the training camp. More importantly, it was how she fell into Fell's hands. It'd only been a few months since that'd happened but belonging to a single man instead of an entire Caste was certainly easier than her other options. Not to mention the fact that Fell was one of the most attractive men she'd ever met and the fact that there was something...Well, there was something different about him at times that stroked at that darkly curious side of her. For as frustrating as Peyton could be she was more perceptive than most people gave her credit for. Mainly because of the fact that she was 'just a slave' and a woman, it made her a pretty face more than anything. Which she was sure was the reason why she'd nearly been laughed out of the room when she finally came clean to the Death Caste's leader that she wanted to take the steps to become an assassin. Drake may have laughed but it was Fell's silence that made her more determined.

In the end, Drake had said it was Fell's decision since by all logical reasoning she was his property. Something that she'd expected to bother her when she heard it aloud yet...It hadn't.

The day had been a busy one for Peyton, starting with a morning of being sent to town for Maydra, which really she found helpful in more than a few ways. Not only was she able to get everything for dinner but she happened to come across a low level mark in the process. She couldn't have thought of a better way of showing Fell that she was ready for the trials ahead. Or a better way of digging at the thing inside of him. Two birds, one dead guy. Thankfully, her pretty face paid off when it came to the mark and ending his life was a helluva lot easier than seperating his head from his body. By the time she got back to the estate with her two baskets, one for the things they actually needed and the other holding the head, she was nothing short of a bloody mess. It only took a couple of minutes to dig out Fell's best platter from the cabinet and set the head inside of it before she tucked it in the back of the pantry. Then came the matter of getting clean before she'd need to help Maydra with dinner, whatever the grumpy spirit would let her help with anyways. After a fairly thorough cleaning she slipped on her favorite black dress, opting to go barefoot, before the jingled her way through the house to get back to the kitchen.

They'd just finished making sure the bread was acceptable when the bells on her wrist & ankle cuffs started noising off with that distinct sound. Peyton quickly silenced the ones on her wrists with her own hands but the ones at her ankles would die down on their own. "I'll get the heavier things if you like, ma'am.", she smiled sweetly to Maydra and earned a suspicious look in return before the elderly woman nodded and grabbed up two of the smaller platters. Once she was out of the room, Peyton hurried to get the bread platter switched with something a bit more interesting and hopefully impressive. Leaving it on the counter while she heaved up the main course and carried it out to the table to affix it in it's proper place. Wiping her hands on her dress she glanced towards the kitchen door before slanting her eyes towards the armoire in the room. "Perfect.", she grinned. It took effort, talent, really, to move into the armoire without her bells making a sound but it wasn't impossible. The lightest jingle sounded as she got comfortable but she was honestly just happy that even as a spirit Maydra was hard of hearing.

Peyton couldn't have said what pleased her more, the sound of Maydra's shrieking, the look on her face, or the shift in Fell as she watched out of the keyhole when the lid was taken off. More interesting however was when Maydra was dismissed and she was starting to wonder what he could have been wanting to do with the head when he turned towards the armoire and...She froze, if only for a brief moment, though long enough for her smile to falter before she shifted and jingled inside the wooden furniture. By the time she emerged, raising a hand to straighten her collar, the remnants of the smile were still tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's a good thing she can't die from fright then, sir.", she said before giving him a quick flash of her teeth in a pleased smile. With more of those carefully measured steps she moved closer without a single jingle of her bells so she could stand near his side. Cocking her head at an angle while she stared at the wide-eyed head on the platter, "He's not a prank, that'd be cruel, he's a gift.", slowly her eyes shifted back to him, a smile dancing behind them. "Possibly a bit of a bribe too.", she added while shrugging a single shoulder.

Peyton was careful in how she shifted a bit closer to him and the table, in how she stretched out a hand to poke the side of the head. She pulled her hand back and sunk down to her knees at the arm of his chair. She hadn't know Fell for an entirely long time yet but she knew him well enough to see that change in him. Which is the whole reason why..."It'd be more pleasant if it were your hands...", her fingers slipping around her own throat before suddenly they dropped before clenching down. She leaned forward enough to nuzzle her face against his hand on the armrest, muttering as she did, "Do you like my gift?", the way she said that single word implied a lot of things. Mainly, that she wasn't sure who she was really talking to at the moment.

She was a pretty little thing, and they both knew it. That was why she got away with cheeky comments like that, when everyone knew a slave's real place was on their knees. Zepar had only just made the assessment when Peyton moved closer. He shifted his head to keep an eye on her, but didn't budge for the poke to the side of his head. Fell would've budged, Zepar thought scornfully. (Somewhere, under the more dominant layers of Zepar's mind, Fell noised a complaint; he may not have been impressive to a demon, but he measured up well with other men.) He mused over the implications of the severed head being a bribe while Peyton was getting to her knees. That surprised the demon for a moment, but not in an unpleasant way. It guaranteed she had the demon's attention when she wrapped her fingers around her own throat, though. Something darkened in his expression for a telling moment, and there was a sharp edge in his smile when she started nuzzling her face against the back of his hand.

Zepar slowly turned his hand over so that her nose and mouth were nudging into his palm and his long fingers were framing the rest of her face. He held her like that for a moment, then slowly stroked his fingers down her throat: gripping firmly enough to be felt, but no more than that. The demon met her eyes while holding her by the throat, and there was cowing strength in his gaze. "It's acceptable for a first attempt," he finally answered. His hand moved from her throat to her chin, tilting her head toward the severed head so she would see it when he knocked it on its side. "This is sloppy work," Zepar scolded her. "Look at the ragged skin," he brushed his thumb over her jawline; back and forth, back and forth. "Whatever you used to take the head off wasn't suited to the job."

He released her chin, then pushed the platter back. "Still, good for a first attempt, and you get points for the delivery." (The inclination toward empathy was Fell's influence, but Zepar would never admit to being influenced by a mere human.) Zepar's mouth slowly pulled into another grin. He always liked to see the cook flustered. She had been one of his early kills, and the only one he'd even come close to regretting... If only because Fell was no skilled hand in the kitchen, and good help was hard to find. It was why he had crafted the special amulet her ghost wore now, allowing her to interact with the physical world. She would never be alive, and didn't need to do things like sleep or eat herself, but Zepar thought it was a good compromise. (Of the three of them, the only one who didn't know Maydra was a ghost was Fell. Zepar had taken the memory of killing her from him for his own reasons.)

"I'll see what I can do about finding you something better suited for the job," Zepar told her. There was a meaningful quirk in his smile when he said, "It'll be our little secret." The demon couldn't tell if Peyton had figured out what was off about her Master or not, but that was a good way to test her. If she understood when Fell was in control, he wouldn't find out about their secret and take her new blade away. If she thought he was meaning she should keep it a secret from Maydra, or everyone except for himself... Then Fell would in all likelihood take it away. "If you bring me another bounty's head in... A week -- That'd help convince me you're serious about the Trials."

His mouth quirked up again in that same mean smile. "Right now, all's I see is a pretty girl on her knees. There's better things you can do with your mouth down there than talk." Zepar used a foot to push himself away from the table, being careful not to run her over in the process.

There was something delicate in the way she'd been nuzzling her face against his hand that was trying it's best to contradict the fact that she was responsible for the head on the platter. Innocent was a mask she wore well. Even more innocent was the peck of a kiss she gave the palm of his hand. But there was nothing innocent about the way her lips parted for a pleased noise when his hand found her throat. Giving him another noise shortly after, more of a hum that vibrated in her throat and against his palm and fingers. Peyton was a girl that was well aware of her place in the world, at the moment, but that didn't mean that she hadn't been taking the steps to change that. She'd refused to submit to the first men she'd encountered at that slave training camp, for all the hell it brought her. Her way with magic had helped and hurt in that case. But the...man holding her gaze? Even without whatever it was that was different about him, she hadn't come to a firm conclusion on that yet, she'd been entranced with him from the moment she met him. Entranced or not though, she puffed out her bottom lip when his hand slipped from her throat to her chin and turned her attention to her handiwork.

She knew it was sloppy work but how was she supposed to focus on that when his thumb kept brushing over her jawline? Admittedly there was a dark thrill in having a man like Fell's hands anywhere near her throat. Not that there wasn't a thrill about any man doing it but...The man belonged to the Death Caste and from all the stories she'd overheard he was good at his job. She didn't bother to say much of anything about how sloppy her work was though or the fact that she'd only been carrying the shittiest of all daggers on her when she'd visited the market. How was she to know she'd run into her present? Regardless, the praise earned a smile that was like a minor mirror image of the one plastered on his own lips. "Tried to make 'im smile...", she trailed off a little as her voice lowered, "...guess that's hard under his circumstances."

She'd done her best to contort the man's face into a smile after removing his head from his body, but it kept going back to that shocked look. Not that she could blame him. Peyton was lost in that train of thought only for a moment before her attention fell back to the...man in the chair, Fell. Something else she couldn't help was the brow that arched up at the mention of finding something better suited for the job. And it damn well stayed that way when he mentioned it being their little secret, the way his lips were curled into that smirk though...Her eyes scanned over his face for a long, silent moment like she was actually looking for the difference in him. When her eyes finally settled onto his they were still looking for something she just wasn't sure what she was looking for. The enigma that was Fell Rawson was a frustrating one to try figuring out when she very well didn't want to just simply ask what was going on. Part of her knew it wasn't entirely her business but...The differences in the man, as slight as they were, well it seemed like a good mystery to be figuring out. Though, if she were being perfectly honest, she wasn't looking to change much about it or even thought that she could have any impact if it needed to be changed. She was after all, only a slave.

Whatever there was to figure out got shoved to the back of her thoughts the moment he mentioned another bounty and the trials. Looking more surprised than anything even if the whole point of bringing him the head was to earn the right to 'try' the trials. Even with the more-than-leading comment about things she could be doing with her mouth she wasn't planning on what came out of her mouth next. "And who does that deal stand with?", asking while she rocked backwards with a jingle of her bells when he pushed himself away from the table. There was some distant part of her that winced at her asking the question because, well, it didn't want to know what those changes in Fell were. But her face softened when she moved again and settled herself between his legs, head cocked to the side, and giving him a only barely curious look for a brief moment. Leaning forward she planted her hands on his legs before planting a kiss on his thigh. Hands slowly running upwards until they found the buttons of his vest and un-did them in a timely fasion before she tugged the bottom of his shirt out of his pants. Which were the next thing to be unbuttoned and once they were she held his shirt up long enough to lay a small, wet kiss beneath his belly button.

It didn't take long to free his length from his pants and once it was, she used her fingers to spider over his head for only a couple of passes before she held him steady so she could dance her tongue over him. Her fingers curling around his base with a light amount of pressure behind them as she mouthed at him adding a bit of suction between her mouth and his cock. So that when she suddenly pulled her lips back over his head to the tip there was a soft 'pop' sound before she slanted her eyes up to him and said, "Like this?", the challenge was there plain as day in her voice but as expected as that was...A sudden thickness filled the air around them, a scent that would have driven any mere man to the edge of sexual frustration, need. Her lips wrapped around him again but this time she took more of him in her mouth before she suddenly withdrew again. Shifting on the ground until she fluidly climbed up into his lap and settled her hips over his. While her dress had been shifted enough to not be in the way her leather panties provided a bit of resitance without the right shift. Her lips found the base of his throat, where she planted a wet kiss, then trailed those up until she had her mouth near his ear. "Who are you?", she whispered before pressing her teeth to his flesh.

Her left hand slipping between them so that her fingers could curl around his cock again and stroke him after she shifted her hips back enough to allow it. Her hand kept a steady pace between their bodies but it was obviously a starting pace. Peyton nudged her nose against his jawline before tilting her head enough that she could slick her tongue over it while her other hand slipped behind his head. Digging her nails at his scalp, "It's rude not to introduce yourself..."

Zepar made a low, rumbling laugh when she asked who the deal stood with. It was his only answer to her question, and the expression in his eyes as smug as his face. When their body stroked their fingers over Peyton's hair, it was both of their intention: Fell marveling at her beauty while Zepar appreciated how much hair there was to pull on. Still, they kept their fingers gentle for the moment, especially once she started getting his shirt untucked and his pants undone. Zepar had more than just her hair to think about by the time she had his cock in her hand, looking sweet and innocent and deadly on her knees. He groaned appreciatively while her fingers were spidering over his head, teasing him into further hardness -- but given his demonic presence, it didn't take long. The demon and man were both behind the grunt that came out of the body when she slid her mouth on his cock and then popped off of it so lewdly.

"F-fuck," Zepar growled. There was a darker edge in his voice and a more threatening focus behind his eyes. "Hmm-mmh," he rumbled an affirmative to her challenge. The thick feeling in the air was familiar; it wasn't the first time he'd come up against a pheromones manipulator, though Peyton was more skilled than most. He enjoyed the impact it had on the body, even if it didn't swarm his mind the way it did for mortal men. Fell was drunk on Peyton, ready to rut up against her or shove her over the dinner table. Zepar was more interested in taking his time. The demon growled when Peyton pulled off his cock again, but he couldn't complain once she started crawling onto his lap. A shift of his hips nudged his cock against her leather covered pussy, rubbing against her while her lips were leaving wet kisses from the base of his throat to his ear. A pleasant shiver went through the demon and the man when she whispered near his ear.

Another rumble came out of him when Peyton set her teeth into his skin. Zepar shifted his hips against hers, hard, before she could shift back to take him in her hand. He held her with a steady gaze while he appreciated the stroking pace of her palm. But by the time she was slicking her tongue over his jawline, it wasn't Zepar that she was playing with.

"You're askin' for an introduction now?" It was subtle, but there was something less about the voice; still strong and commanding, but... Less. Fell groaned with appreciation while reaching for her chin, holding her firmly while he pressed a tonguing kiss against her mouth. His fingers slid away from her chin, stroking over her breasts through her dress, then stroked down to her skirt. Both hands slid around her, pulling up her skirt while he groped her ass cheeks. He slid two fingers into her from behind, making sure she was nudged back enough on his lap so he could get at her from that angle. Fell worked his fingers in her rough and fast while nudging his face into her neck to mouth bites into her skin.

The transition to Zepar happened between one bite and the next. This time, the difference between demon and man was less subtle: where Fell had mouthed and suckled to leave marks, Zepar bit down hard. He could feel the thud of her blood against his teeth, which had settled instinctively around one of her main arteries... If he bit down hard enough... Tempting though it was, he mouthed his tongue into her neck instead, then abruptly pulled away. Zepar stood suddenly, with a growling breath, and knocked Peyton off his lap. He grabbed her by the back of the neck, using that to push her over the table. A hand on her back pushed her down, then he flipped her skirt over her ass and pulled her panties down.

Zepar didn't ask for permission. He grabbed Peyton by a handful of hair, ponytailing it in his fist to better control her head, and held the small of her back with his other hand. Then he thrust into her from behind, giving her no time to get used to him before he started thrusting into her with purpose. "Sh-ould keep you a slave forever," he growled in a dark tone. "H-how're you going to repay me for losing this," Zepar's hand fell on her ass cheek from behind, "If I let you go to the trials?"

Peyton generally had the bad habit of being, well, her father often told her that she was 'too big for her britches'. Her mother's euphemism had always been 'biting off more than you can chew'. Either way, she thought she was just big enough to handle what she may or may not have been biting off to chew in the moment. Figuratively speaking. Though his hard shift against her hips before she'd shifted away caused more than just a shudder to run through her, a harsh noise had accompanied it. She couldn't have been able to see the change in him but she thought there was something suddenly, different. Narrowing her eyes lightly at his question though his groan distracted her and by the time she found her words again he was pulling her into that kiss. And if a single thing could have distracted her better than that, well, she honestly didn't want to face it at the moment. Part of her 'melted' a little more into him, losing whatever tenseness she'd had in her body as she returned it, huffing out a soft noise into his mouth as his hands wandered.

It was a hiss of a breath followed with a quick, and odd gasp when his fingers slipped inside of her from behind. Once they found their pacing though, her hand finally started to falter on his cock to the point that she was rubbing small circles just beneath it's head with her thumb. Her own hand behind his head slipped down until she was grasping the back of his neck before it found his shoulder and she was clinging to him. Turning her head enough so her nose and mouth were pressed against the side of his head while he mouthed those bites into her flesh. Each one earning him a huff of a breath that's undertone was heavily tainted with a moaning noise.

Any soft noises she had for him after that came to a screeching halt when that hard bite found it's mark. She barely got her mouth far enough away from his ear before the scream slipped out but even then she choked on the noise. Her entire body clenched from the pain, the odd pleasure of it. And at that point her hand had already abandoned his cock so she could grip at his shirt, for as long as that lasted. Her head was still dizzy from the bite, his tongue that she managed just a half of a whine before she was suddenly tumbling back onto the floor. How she fell wasn't graceful at all but she'd like to blame the harsh tingle between her legs for that and the thudding pulse in every extremity. Peyton was in the process of finding her knees again when she felt the hand at the back of her neck and didn't even bother resisting when it steered her. Hell, she was too busy trying to screw her head on straight still. But that wasn't why she gasped when he pushed her down against the table, her cheek pressed against the cool wood, or was it a plate. Before she could shift enough to see what it was she was steadying her breathing for all the good it'd do her.

She shifted her feet though, barely a second before he suddenly was grabbing her hair in his fist and earning another pitiful noise from her. Something pitiful turned into a downright gutteral noise when he thrust into her and had her grabbing at the table. Though all she managed to do was knock a few things off, including the head and it's platter. "G-Guhn...", what should have been a word turned into gibberish in her mouth with his instant and punishing thrusts. By the time she heard his growling she managed to get a hand on the edge of the table and gripped at it. Desperately. She wasn't overly surprised, it wasn't the first time she'd been bent over something by him, but...Peyton growled herself suddenly with his question but that was a hard thing to hold when he was already stroking over that sweet spot.

It wasn't with finesse that she shook a leg out of the leg-hole of her panties, a single leg but still a leg, and the shaking wasn't completely voluntary. But when it was free she pulled her leg up until her knee was on the table, beside her, and opening herself up more. If she was being perfectly honest though, at that particular point in time she'd agree to damn near anything for the feeling he was thrusting into her. She always would. "W-who...said you'd...l-l-lose it.", she barely got it out before a harsh moan pressed from her slacked jaw. "Fell, I'm goin---going to...", she huffed out a hot breath and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, but not for usual reasons. He didn't get much of a warning other than that before the air got painfully thick around them, making it hard for even her to catch a solid breath. Her scent, taste was just as heavy and floated around them, into both of their noses and mouths to the point that all either of them would be able to taste/smell was cinnamon. Even her body suddenly got a bit slicker, in all sorts of ways. Fact of the matter was, not only had raising her leg to the table with her been a great idea, but that paired with his thrusts pushed her brain into losing the leash on her magic.

Peyton suddenly reached with her free hand to grab at what she thought was going to be the other edge of the table. What she ended up with instead was a sharp pain across her palm when instead she grabbed a perfectly sharpened blade meant for the main course. She yelped out loudly and bucked back against him causing her leg to fall off the table, the cinnamon scent mostly overpowered it but the scent of her blood was mingling with it. Pushing the knife off the table she mindlessly reached that hand behind herself, over her shoulder, to grab the wrist of his hand holding her by the hair. Gripping him there caused a shudder to run through her, not only from the pain, "D-Don't...", the rest of her words got lost in a desperate moan that had no regard for volume.

"No you're not," Zepar growled. He slammed his hips into her, a jarringly hard thrust that left him bottomed out and not moving: denying her the stimulation she'd need to get over the edge. At least, that's what the demon was hoping for, but there were still a few things humans could do to surprise the ancient spirit. The air thickened, causing him to draw in deeper breaths while he flexed his fingers into her hair and pushed down on her back: holding her in place and trying to remember why it was so important not to start pummeling into her again. The potency of her pheromones was something the demon hadn't experienced in a while, and like most drugs it hit a helluva lot harder the first time after a long time. Suddenly, they could feel every bit of their body: every inch of cock buried in Peyton's tight snatch, every bit of skin that was beginning to sweat against hers... And the intoxicating smell of blood.

Fresh blood, not the congealed crap on the platter she had already knocked to the floor. Zepar grunted while nudging his hips into hers, staying lodged deeply in her but giving her a rough grind for at least a few seconds. His eyes dropped to her blood wet hand when she gripped him by the wrist, and he flexed his fingers around the hold he had on her hair. In that moment, the demon was beyond human words. He was beyond human thoughts. He was beyond everything except for the hot little body trapped underneath him and the driving need to fuck his claim into her. He let go of her hair to reach for her arm instead, grabbing her injured hand by the wrist and yanking the palm up to his mouth. Zepar's eyes were hard on hers when he lapped the blood up, tonguing at her wound until he was satisfied.

When he released her wrist, it was only to grab her by the elbows so he could pull her up into a new position. One of Zepar's arms remained threaded through both of hers, holding her trapped against him. His other hand settled on her throat, guaranteeing that she had no other choice except to ride his achingly hard cock. He grunted against her head, his mouth nudged into the side of it, then said, "Don't fucking tell me don't." Zepar pulled out suddenly, with a snarling breath, and pushed away from Peyton almost violently. His cock was throbbing distractingly, prompting him to prowl around the first half of the dining room: shooting moody looks at her as she recovered from the hard pummeling and pushed-right-up-to-the-edge feeling that the demon had fucked her into.

He gave Maydra a mental tap. While the ghost would have no conscious realization of why she was doing it, she was suddenly prompted to start filling a bucket with soapy warm water. He stood near enough to Peyton to set his hand on her back, ensuring with firm pressure that she remained bent over the table while he waited for the cook to do as she'd been compelled to do. It made for a pretty picture when she came into the dining room. Her eyes went from between Peyton and Fell and back again, before she dropped her gaze as well as as the bucket and made her way out of the room. Maydra was so flustered, she forgot to open the door on her way out.

Zepar laughed darkly. "You made a mess of my floor, slave." He used the word deliberately, then pointed at the fallen platter and head. "Is that any way to treat a present of mine?" Some of the gore had gotten smeared on the wood floor. "Clean it up, and be grateful I'm not making you use your tongue." The demon had plans for when Peyton did as she was told: he had every intention of standing behind her while she scrubbed the floor, and making her job more difficult by pulling her skirt up enough to see her bare ass and snatch. Zepar was going to abuse his power over her until she was free of him, and what better way to reinforce who she belonged to than make her clean up her own mess while she was throbbing for his dick? His other hand reached for his cock, giving away that she wasn't the only one throbbing for something...

Peyton yelped out of surprise when he grabbed her hand and yanked it towards his mouth though that was nothing compared to when he licked at it. Half-lidded eyes staring back at him with some kind of desperation and determination behind them. But soon they rolled a little as she whimpered at his tonguing of her wound and she made more than one attempt to pull it away. Problem was, her magic had a funny way of backfiring on her at times when she lost control of it. And as much as he could have been feeling every inch of his body, well, everything was in a blissful overdrive for her at the moment. Each thrust of his hips pulling more harsh moans from her to the point that she couldn't tell where one stopped and the other ended. Her other hand was starting to numb with all of the tension that was in it. The strength behind the desperation making her cling to the edge of the table still but not even that lasted. Soon she was being pulled back by her elbows and a series of Oh's poured out of her.

Something else that didn't last once his hand found her throat and she was gasping out harshly while both of her hands reached behind her to dig her nails at his thrusting hips. The pressure inside of her was reaching it's peak, the edge she was practically leaning over, until suddenly...She growled out loudly before that shifted into another whimper and she fell to the table with a clatter of whatever was underneath her. Gasping, whining, her legs crossing over one another to tighten her thighs at the throbbing pulse between them. Peyton wanted to scream at him, beg him, hit him, tackle him...but all she could manage at the moment was a sob of a noise as the waves of her own magic washed over them.

As much as she wanted to lean up off of the table she was certain once she did she was going to fold to the floor easier than a house of cards. Didn't stop her from catching glimpses of him prowling around though. Maydra was the least of her worries at that point. All she could focus on was that pulse, that pressure, that pheromone induced drive in her stomach. Hearing him laugh sent a fissure through her spine along with her digging her teeth into her bottom lip. To the point that she was drawing blood there as well. Giving him soft whining noises with anything he had to say before she squirmed against the table for a seemingly pointless reason other than needing to do it. But he had a point about her tongue and on that same hand she could think of a few better things that she could do with it other than cleaning up the gore. So, she raised up and looked every part of the slave that was going to do as she'd been told. At least until her eyes finally settled on his face as she turned to face him and there was more than just a fire burning behind them. She still hadn't swallowed the blood from her bitten lip so when she suddenly put a hand at the back of his head and pressed up on her toes. Leaning her face up to his and slicking her tongue over his cheek, it left a trail of her bloody saliva in it's wake. "You're....not my master.", she pressed her smile against the streak she'd left. "Fell is."

She leaned back, letting go of the back of his head, and ran her eyes over his face for a long moment. "No." Maybe she was feeling a bit vindictive about the orgasm she'd been denied but she kept her spine while she stared at him for a single breath.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, running all the way up to his chest, before she pulled them back towards herself carefully enough to make sure she snapped the buttons off. Which let his shirt hang open enough for her to press her mouth at one of his pecks for a deceivingly soft kiss before she nipped at him. The first couple of times she left small specks of her blood on his chest before it'd stopped bleeding. She focused on him, her magic, clearing up some of it that may have been spreading around the room aimlessly. "I don't even know your name.", she more breathed than said while sitting her ass on the edge of the table. Hooking her legs behind his ass to pull him towards her, though she couldn't have moved him if he didn't want to be. Regardless, she kept the pressure there until he finally did and then her fingers of her right, unwounded, hand wrapped around his cock. Finding a steady pace to stroke him while the fingers of her other hand danced over it's smooth head. "How am I supposed to know what to cry out...", she trailed off while leaning up to kiss, lick at the front of his throat. "Who am I supposed to beg...", shifting her lips to the hollow of his collarbone.

"...to fuck me."

Peyton's blood was in his mouth and on his skin. It was in his nose, slightly metallic and wholly intoxicating. That wasn't the only thing of the slight blonde that was intoxicating. With every breath, Zepar breathed in more of her pheromones, and with every breath they lost more and more of themselves: absorbing the need until it felt like it was going to burst out of their skin. That throbbingly dissatisfied feeling was what made the demon sloppier than he normally was when he snarled, "I am the Master of your Master." The demon wasn't used to being told no, and he didn't like it. The expression on his face was difficult to read, it was so mixed between anger and lust. Still, it was hard to miss the dangerous edge in his eyes when he watched Peyton slip her hands under his shirt. The skin-to-skin contact made him draw in a softly shuddering breath, but the rage was still close enough to the surface to burn.

"No human says no to me," Zepar growled once his shirt was unbuttoned. There was a telling glaze in his eyes, even if it was hard to tell if that glaze was coming from arousal or anger. Probably because of how mixed the emotions still were for the phermone saturated demon. He rumbled every time she left specks of blood on his chest from her bleeding lip, wrapping him up more and more in the blood lust/body lust tangle. He didn't let her move him when she pulled at him, putting an equal amount of pressure back that she pulled forward. In the end, it was Fell who took that step forward, and not without plenty of snarls from the increasingly single minded demon. He was furious that Peyton hadn't listened to him; equally furious that she had dared try to make him listen to her; and hungrier for her body than he'd ever been for a mortal woman before.

When Zepar caught her by throat, shortly after she finished whispering those honeyed words into his throat and collarbone, there was more aggression than lust behind his hand. He held firmly enough to make breathing difficult and slammed her down on the table, luckily onto a spot not cluttered with food or dishes. The demon was so far gone, he wouldn't have noticed if her back had been sliced open by shattered plates or a stray knife; or if he had, what happened next would not have been in anyone else's favor. But Peyton was different. She had always been different, from the moment he'd set his eyes on her: defiant and strong-willed, even as a slave. Fell had been falling in love with her since she had come to be his, and he wasn't the only one. (He was just the only one willing to admit it.) The fingers around Peyton's throat stuttered, seconds after slamming her down on the table, and then the man yanked his hand away with a shuddering breath.

"Peyton," Fell breathed. In that moment, it was only Fell: the man stood before her, as close to what he used to be as he would probably ever get. The demon was part of him now, in ways that could never be fixed, but it didn't control him. It didn't get to take her away from him. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I - I can't explain..." He couldn't explain a lot of things, like the powerful arousal thudding through him; the feeling that he was wearing too many clothes; the knowledge that she was wearing too many clothes... "Peyton," the man breathed again, and this time it was in a totally different tone. The raw wanting in his voice was too strong to be disguised by any lesser emotion. He reached for her, pulling her mostly off the table and into his arms; even if she struggled a bit, he pulled her into his arms. Her pheromones were shocking through his system, and without the demon to fend them off he was totally at their mercy.

Totally at her mercy.

Fell tugged Peyton to the edge of the table, leaving her sitting on it while he nudged the weight of his body between her thighs. He drew in a breath while covering her mouth with his in a loving kiss, stroking his hands over the sides of her face while he did. When the hand on the side of her face slid down to her throat this time, the grip he used was gentle and easy to escape: more encouraging her to stay in his grasp while he slicked his eager tongue and breath into her mouth.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he breathed as he was breaking their kiss.

Peyton generally had a bad habit of biting off more than she could chew and overall pushing when she should yield. It was probably why her parents were so eager to marry her off and get her out of their hair. They couldn't handle a daughter that was sure she should be able to act how she wanted with whomever she wanted. She hated that it was called feeling entitled. She didn't feel she deserved whatever she wanted. She just wanted to be able to push instead of sitting pretty like the rest of the girls. Problem was...as strong as Peyton thought she was, well, she wasn't. It was the talent of being able to look stronger than she really was when in actuality she was just as soft and fragile as any other spoiled girl from an elite family. Admittedly she hadn't expected her pushing to gather such a response from whatever she was dealing with, it wasn't Fell that was true.

The push back to the table was enough to leave her dizzy but with the impact against it? It took a few moments for her to blink her eyes back to reacting the way they should have been. Settling on his face with a wide edge to them, surprise, fear, cautious for the first time. She gasped out loudly before both of her hands yanked to his wrist to grab at it. "F-Fell...", she strained to say. Ignoring the fact that she'd missed a needed breath just to utter a name that had little to do with who's hand was actually around her throat. She'd barely gotten her fingers curled around his wrist before he was yanking it away. Forcing her hands to fall to the table as she inhaled sharply and lifted her unwounded hand to rub over her throat. She didn't dare move outside of that single gesture though and her eyes were fixed to his face. Roaming over every little feature while he breathed her name, while he apologized.

Caution took priority over the urge, the need to crawl against the man she was certain was himself again. She was completely unaware of the pheromones still flowing out of her and what effect they could have been having on him...or his beast. At least not until he was suddenly reaching for her and pulling her towards him. There was a brief moment of hestiation, a quick search of his face before she surrendered to him. The desperation in the kiss was enough to melt away all of that caution or whatever other worries she could have had. It was enough that the air around them started to lighten to the point that the only form of her magic was coming from touch. It'd take a few moments to work out of his system...but she wasn't pushing against a beast any longer. Not at all. This wasn't a beast anymore, it was her Master, it was the man that she...Peyton squeaked in the kiss when his hand found her throat again. Completely unintentional, a bit embarassing but logical to her mind. It hindered her for a moment in the kiss and she barely recovered by the time he was breaking the kiss.

Peyton kept her wounded hand behind her, pressing her bloodied palm against her dress to stop or at least slow the bleeding. But her other hand slipped to the back of Fell's neck, gently and cautiously tugging after he spoke, to get their foreheads together. "You didn't hurt me, Master.", she said while watching his eyes. Too close to see all of his face but she was confident that they were all she needed to see in the moment. Letting her hand fall from the back of his neck until it was resting on his chest. Already weaseled under his open shirt so she could stroke a thumb across his flesh and unknowingly send a thrill of her magic through him.

She still wasn't sure exactly what was sharing the body of her Master. She certainly didn't know it's name. But she did know it was a part of him and that it considered itself stronger than the man that she, well, that she loved.

Her surprised squeak when he found her throat pulsed through Fell, and he answered her with a rumbling breath. He never wanted Peyton to be afraid of him, but a little bit of nerves could be used to a man's advantage... Fell yielded to the hand on the back of his neck, letting her nudge their foreheads together so they could both watch each other's eyes. "Huhn," he huffed at the first stroke of her thumb on his bare flesh. "But I let him hurt you," Fell rumbled. His hands stroked down Peyton's back and over her hips while he nudged his nose against hers in a butterfly kiss. "His name is Zepar," he told her. It was the first time the man had ever acknowledged the demon out loud to anyone. A powerful moment, for the host to realize he wasn't the powerless victim that the parasite had made him believe he was.

The moment would be crystalized in his mind forever: Peyton scrabbling at his wrist, Zepar tightening his fingers, and... Fell had told the demon to go. He'd reached into himself, finding a kind of strength he hadn't known he had, and -- It had worked. Even without Peyton's magic, he would have been primed by the victory. With it added to the mix, he was less primed than he was desperate to get his hands, his mouth, and everything else on and in her body. "He won't do it again," Fell promised in a rumbling voice. His cock was still poking out of the opening on his pants, throbbing angrily with the need for more friction than the rubbing grind he'd been pushing into her thigh. He kissed a soft groan into her mouth while he guided her uninjured hand to his bare cock, encouraging her to fondle it. "Let me show you," he breathed. "The good he can do. He isn't all evil..."

Fell couldn't resist kissing her again. "Give me your other hand." This time, he didn't reach for it himself: it was Peyton's choice when and if she put her injured hand in his. It was her choice if she was going to forgive him for letting the demon slip the leash. If she did, the worst he intended to do was press a kiss into the slash on her palm. By the time he lifted his head, the wound on Peyton's hand had been healed. For a moment, there was a dark shadow in Fell's eyes and a flavor of meanness in his smile. Then, the shadow slipped away and the meanness was replaced by desire. "You see?" Fell kissed her palm again, healed entirely of the wound the demon had been tonguing earlier. Thinking about that only made him feel guilty, so he was quick to nudge his mouth into her neck instead. It was the first time he'd ever successfully controlled the demon, but he was acting like he did it all the time. That was strictly for her benefit: to try and convince her that he wasn't as much of a danger as he was.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew exactly who Peyton was -- and who she had been before her enslavement. More than that, he knew that she wasn't with him by force. No matter what the law said, the strong willed blonde would go wherever she wanted. She was getting better and better at sneaking out of his home... Fell had been willing to turn a blind eye to her wandering, but if she ever decided to go for good... Not even Zepar would be able to stop her, and that couldn't happen. Now that he knew she was out there, there was no part of him that could live without Peyton.

That was what put the strength behind his next kiss, even moreso than the pheromones rushing through his body. One of his hands stroked between her thighs, pulling her dress up enough to finger over her slit while his kiss became even more persuasive. "I won't let him do it again, Peyton," Fell repeated inches away from her lips. His thumb made circles on her clit while his tongue coaxed every breath, sigh, and moan that she had to give from her mouth into his. He hesitated with his mouth close to hers, then leaned in to bite her neck. "Give me a second chance." It was the closest he'd ever come to acknowledging how flimsy her chains of servitude really were, but the look he lifted his head to flash to her eyes was drivingly significant.

Zepar, just hearing the name was enough to have her eyes searching over his face again. Curious. Worried. Intrigued. A bit fearful. But she didn't repeat the name out of the simplistic fear that just saying that name was going to...Part of her wanted to make up for making Zepar angry, he was a part of her Master after all. Another part was undoubtedly worried that just wishing him around to make up for her mistake was going to be another mistake. But she'd still need to find a way to live with whatever was inside of him. She had the driving urge to not only be able say that she loved more than just the man. Though, he'd almost always be her priority since she felt she'd known him longer. Which felt like a lie if she was going to be perfectly honest. For all she knew, Zepar had been the first she'd met out of the two of them. So her eyes roamed over his face, Fell's, with a softness around the edges that couldn't have been missed.

She huffed a breath into his mouth as he was guiding her hand to his cock though she didn't immediately wrap her fingers around him. Instead, she danced the fingertips of her hand along his length from head to base. Before settling a thumb just under the head of his cock so she could rub small circles there. That didn't last for long before she was slowly stroking him though. He earned a sharp look when he said that Zepar wasn't all evil and she searched his eyes the best she could. It was hard to focus on looking for something she probably couldn't see at the moment over the weight of him in her hand. Peyton hummed in the next kiss, "Mmmmmm...", she leaned back out of the kiss though. Narrowing her eyes at him for a few slow breaths before she finally pulled her injured hand from behind her back. Holding it out for him and watching intently as he leaned down and pressed that kiss on it. There was a hissing noise that slipped out before she realized what he'd done but the dark shadow in her eyes had her refusing to break eye contact.

She couldn't be scared. Couldn't let herself succumb to that pitiful emotion. Not where he was concerned. She'd pushed at this Zepar with everything she had and if she had any other Master, well, she'd heard the stories. She could easily be getting locked away in a cage or tied to a stand in a public square for her defiance. And that was the merciful route.

Her eyes settled on the healed palm but they fluttered when his mouth found her neck and he earned a gasping noise. "Thank you...both of you.", she muttered against the side of his head. It was true, she could have run and never turned around the first night she'd come to his estate. Plenty of times after that as well. She'd just opened her mouth to say something though the thought was literal kissed out of her mind. Forcing her hand to halt on his length as she hissed out a breath with his own hand stroking between her thighs. Her body shuddered with his touch, his words, his kisses. And he certainly got every breath, sigh and moan she had to offer until his mouth leaned to her neck again. Peyton managed to muffle a squeak of a noise with the bite. Turning her head to press her own teeth against his ear while he said those five words that were enough to leave her whining. Her breathing was more panting at that point while she stared down the look he was giving her, "I'd give you a million of 'em...", she muttered.

"...because I need you...", she paused to huff out a breath, "...want you. And whatever comes with you...", pausing again to kiss his bottom lip painfully soft in contrast to her hand already milking at his cock. It felt stupid, but...it was still nagging at her..."I should have listened, I'm sorry, Zepar..."

She wasn't the first woman to watch him like that, but he wanted her to be the last. Fell had never been a strongly romantic or even passionate man. Even as a young man, he'd been more interested in learning the crafts of his caste than he was in chasing skirts (or anything else). So he couldn't explain the pulse of feeling that went through him when Peyton proved she still trusted him enough to let him help as much as he could by healing her hand. As much as they could. He had tried to make an inventory of the different abilities that Zepar had, but they seemed to change without any rhyme nor reason he'd been able to figure out. Sometimes, Zepar could heal mortally fatal wounds. Other times, the demon was as helpless as the man.

Zepar was intrigued when Peyton thanked them both. He wanted so badly to play, but therein lied the problem with humans. They broke when he played too hard, and too hard was the only way the demon knew. The only leash on him now was Fell, who still wasn't convinced he had what it took to stop him -- with one tentative exception. He wouldn't let Zepar hurt Peyton again. The demon subsided while Peyton told him she'd give him a million second chances, and he breathed softly into the soft kiss she pressed into his bottom lip. "You have me," Fell muttered. He nudged against her, wanting to tell her all of the things the demon was warning him not to say... Then breathed out a soft sound when she said its name again. "You're going to bring him back," he grumbled. Talking about Zepar out loud still made him feel crazy, but Peyton was talking to him like he was real, and --

That sly, mean expression slid back into Fell's eyes. The man was still there, but the demon was present. He was plucking the body's puppet strings. "What's his is mine," Zepar rumbled. His eyes flashed down to her throat. Peyton had such pretty, pale skin. It was perfect for showing every bruise, every red mark, every scar... "Are you sure you want me, unum parvum?" He leaned in to graze his teeth over her earlobe, exhaling deliberately on her throat when he said: "You don't know what you're in for." Peyton had proven that she had the stomach for playing with a demon; it was what she'd done by delivering that severed head to him in the first place. Zepar wanted to know if she had the heart for it.

His kiss was more reminiscent of Fell than Zepar: all lip, no teeth, and full of the budding love he felt for her. But the heated expression in the man's eyes was full of the demon when he said, "Choose carefully, dulcis." A deft shift of his hips and tug of his wrists was all it took to pull Peyton off the table and onto his cock. He breathed his grunt into her throat while he let her sink low: filling her with every inch he had and lifting his head to press a toothy kiss into her lower lip. "You can't take this back." Not that man nor demon were giving her much of an opportunity to answer. They were both in agreement when they started bouncing her on their cock, their breath hissing out with the relief of finally having what they'd been aching for.

Fell's hand stroked over Peyton's ass, slowing the pace enough to press a sweet but no less passionate kiss into her mouth. "H-he likes you," he groaned.

Peyton had her own sinking suspicion of what was living inside of her Master. There were only so many things in their world that could do what it did but making assumptions in this world...Well, it could lead to plenty of unsavory things. Like her assumption that nothing was going to blow back on her when she refused to marry that man. Like her assumption that she could push at Zepar and not get the reaction that he'd had. Albeit, she couldn't entirely blame him. She was being a defiant little shit in the moment. But hearing those three little words, You have me, sent a solid thrill through her body. She loved the man but could she love the beast that lived inside of him? It was barely an afterthought of speaking his name but more solidified when Fell grumbled.

She couldn't have missed that slip of expression over his eyes and she shuddered at the sight of it. Noticeably swallowing against her own need not to show weakness in the face of Zepar. How could she have been blamed? She was young and a helluva lot weaker than she acted, or maybe she thought she was weaker than she really was. An argument for a later time. That rumbling tone was enough to spark her magic lightly around them and inside of her, feeding something she didn't entirely want to feed. (She'd say it was a defense mechanism, faulty as fuck though.) He was right, she didn't know what she was in for when it came to Zepar. But it was more of a matter if Fell was worth it, was Zepar worth whatever she'd be risking? Was it her life?

With every intention of saying something she managed a small pitiful noise before his mouth found her's. Huffing baited breaths and soft noises into it and practically whining when he broke it to speak again. She slipped a hand behind his with more intentions of dragging him back into another kiss to avoid the fact that she couldn't answer him. She could feel the tremble in her voice without even uttering a single word. But it was all aborted when he pulled her off the table and onto his cock, leaving her gasping against his mouth. "Shit...", she hissed as he pressed that toothy kiss at her bottom lip. Curling her fingers into his flesh for a moment before she secured a hold on the back of both of his shoulders. After that, each bounce on his cock had her crying out and digging her nails so roughly into him that...Well, she was certainly going to leave her mark on him.

b Peyton wasn't a dumb girl, bit ignorant, lot ignorant on a lot of things but she was fairly well educated given her family's ranking. Zepar's tongue hadn't been misunderstood. She was lost in the next kiss so deep that she nearly forgot whatever she'd been meaning to say. Even a tease of a smile formed on her parted lips with Fell's groaning but soon shifted when she tugged at bottom lip. Keeping the pressure behind her teeth light, deceptively soft before she muttered, "I'm yours, I want you...", she moaned softly against his mouth, into his mouth, "...et vos." Her hands sliding up his throat until she had it resting against the side of his face, "Please...magistri." It took a bit of shifting, trusting his strength to keep them upright, but she was determined to claim her own kiss.

Fell was worth whatever risks she could have been running with Zepar, she took solace in that along with her driving need for..."More."

The faint shivers of pain, courtesy of her nails, added an extra dimension to the tightly gripping pleasure of sliding into her again and again. A soft noise rumbled out of him when Peyton tugged on his bottom lip, and there was more demon than man in his eyes when she moaned those beautiful words against their mouth. "Good," Fell breathed just as her mouth was settling on his again, but a flavor of the demon was layered in his voice. There would always be at least a flavor of Zepar inside of him. But that wasn't always a bad thing. The demon was what enabled them to keep up the pace while they kissed Peyton, and he was what enabled them to get a hand free to grope over her perfectly sized handfuls. "What do you say?" Zepar crooned down at her. He clearly wanted her to say please. Their pace faltered as he took a step forward, and one after that: more holding her up than thrusting into her as he nudged her up against the dining room's open door. He used the door to brace her back against while he demanded another kiss, slicking his tongue into her not unlike the way his cock was slowly rocking into her... Deliberately denying her non-request for more.

His hands slid down to Peyton's ass cheeks, groping them firmly while he hissed an eager breath over her mouth. She was so fucking beautiful. It'd been one of the first things to strike both man and demon: Fell had been attracted to her body, but Zepar... His interests in Peyton had more to do with her spirit and heart, and whether he could take them from her in the end; but even the demon couldn't deny there were some pleasures of the body that the heart and spirit could not offer. They grunted into her ear, clearly losing patience with the slow pace they'd been setting. "More," Zepar rumbled while he mouthed a bite over her cheek. "Are you su-ure?" But she didn't get a chance to say yes or no. If Peyton wasn't sure of her answer, she shouldn't have said it to the demon.

The change in position was deliberately abrupt. Fell let one of Peyton's legs slide free of his grasp, sending it thudding to the ground; though he was careful to hold her up so she wouldn't feel any real pain over the impact. He shifted his hips, pushing his cock balls deep into her again, and breathed eagerly against her mouth. "I want more, too," the demon growled at her. When he started hammering into her this time, there was no mercy behind his hips. Fell held one of her legs up on his arm, as close to his shoulder as he could get it. Zepar wanted to see Peyton's flexibility really be put to the test.

Considering the pace they were working into her at, even the demon was having a hard time keeping his thoughts from scattering. He hissed out a hot breath over her ear, and growled, "Are you going to come for us tonight, Peyton?" Hard to tell if the man or demon was dominant, especially because his face was buried in her hair and the side of her neck. Zepar was certainly implying he was in control when he continued -- "Am I going to let you?" -- but there was something soft and loving in the man's eyes. Even the bite he mouthed into Peyton's shoulder was more than just a bite, and that was where truth could be found.

Fell was done letting the demon win. This time, he was going to make her his.

It was something of a miracle that she'd managed to get the words out that she'd said. Even more of a miracle was the fact that she wasn't screaming at him when suddenly they were moving and that thudding pressure was lessening. But she did whine at his question before she felt her back being pressed against the door. Still clinging to him with nails threatening to press harder into his already raw flesh beneath them. Hell, she barely got out the first syllable before he was demanding another kiss that was enough to steal whatever words she had. Whatever thoughts she could have had as well. Actually taking the fact that he'd asked anything out of her mind entirely while she did her best to encourage more with her own hips. So by the time a whimpered, "G-guuhn...", came out of her lips as he groped her ass, she wasn't even sure what she was responding to.

Peyton was completely and utterly lost in him again, both of them, all of it. A scary fact was the matter that she would have damn near agreed to anything to feed her own hunger. The ability to focus on anything other than the feel of his breath washing over her with those entirely too appealing sounds...it was as close to drunk as she could have gotten. Not only because of him, though mostly because of them, but because she'd reigned in her own magic so roughly it was starting to turn on her. The active attempt to keep it from flooding over Fell, over Zepar, was forcing her magic to find another route to intoxicate somebody, anybody.

It was a lot like holding a rope attached to a horse galloping full speed away from her and expecting it not to hurt when it started to slip her grasp. Making her feel like her palms were literally on fire when actuality the only thing she was grasping as Fell. Even more when he suddenly let her leg drop and she squeaked out a harsh noise at the loss of stability. But that wasn't the last noise she had for him with the same strained breath. His hips shifting against her and burying him inside of her left her suddenly lurching forward onto him while an entirely guttural noise garbled in her throat. Her proverbial grip was slipping, burning her proverbial flesh, and all she could manage was a whimpering amalgamation of his name, their names, with the right syllables for 'please' mixed up in there somewhere. Entirely incoherent. Because each driving stroke of his hips was leaving her crying out with reckless abandon for how loud she could have possibly been.

Part of her was thankful that his face was buried in her hair, her neck as her eyes started to roll back into her head. Gasping out harshly while her fingers flexed into him more and more. She was already grasping tightly onto a lot of things to keep from throwing herself over a couple of cliffs. With his face buried he couldn't see the pink wispy smoke dancing out of her agape mouth. Each frantic breath pulling it back into her throat again to swallow the overwhelming taste of cinnamon it held. "P-Fel-Z--Please...", she stumbled over her own tongue. Though she managed to shift her head enough to find the side of his face. Intending to plant a kiss there but instead ended up simply panting against him with various soft noises while her grounded foot shifted to adjust their angles. Another shift was her lifted leg to place it over his shoulder with a soft whimpering noise, "I'm going to---If you d-d-d---Per favore...Non riesco a fermarlo.", her tone sounded more than just desperate.

And a simple look at her face would have shown just how hard she was holding on to something. Stopping whatever threatened to replace the air around them. Stopping herself as well. Every inch of her flexed, tensed around him as his first warning sign on behalf of the orgasm he was practically throwing her towards. "Fell...", she huffed out with a small puff of her wisps before her mouth locked open around a needy moan.

YOU TAKE ALL OF
 THE PAIN AWAY... 