He could make an entire conversation out of a simple look.

There is just this the slick slide of his cock inside me, the unbroken press of skin on skin.

He controls from the bottom. Never any doubt that he’s the one calling the shots. He fucks up into me, pinning me in place and leaving me with no choice but to cling to his shoulders and whimper with each savage thrust.

“I want to be pursued. Possessed. I want that feeling between fear and desire.”

decadent little pit of darkness

He may have been waiting for me for centuries, but my soul had spent that time being prepped, groomed, and molded into the perfect creation for Hell’s royalty. I was made for him.

I wanted him to mark me, claim me, and own me. He was mine, and I was proud to submit to him, to wear the marks of his ownership on my flesh.

I want to be filled up by him. The building pressure is so intense, I’m practically crawling out of my skin, flush and quivering, whimpering with the need. Is it me or the animus battering down my inhibitions, the crown desperate for its king? I can say one thing and do another. I know he’s playing a game. I can play it too. “Fine,” I say. “You are my king.” “Good girl,” he says and then shoves his cock inside of me.

think he’s a little bit captivated too. It’s in this moment that I realize I’ve become an enigma to him, just as much as he is for me. In some weird, twisted way, we’re equals. And now I can’t walk away. I can’t run away. But still…he’s giving me a choice. And I already know what the answer is. “Okay.”

“In fearing weakness,” his purr vibrates across my chest, “you incite a consequential fear of pleasure.”

To be held captive by the devil is to feel his burn.

“Your life was never yours to begin with,” he points out. “You have always been mine.”

He crouches in front of me and pushes the hair away from my face. “The little girl wants to play games. Maybe Daddy—” he says the word on a husky rasp “—should teach you a lesson.”
Tears stream down my face as we lock eyes. His burning bright red, mine bright with hellfire.

“Impregnating someone with demon royalty is rough, brutal fucking. Not many could handle it.”

“Your weakness,” he insists, “is a vehicle for pleasure.”
…
“How can you tell where your obedience ends and your cravings begin?”
…
He didn’t leave. Not entirely. He’s still here somewhere, hidden within the room. Hidden within me. Though I can’t see him, I feel him, sense him, I can almost smell him
…
This feeling…this craving…this need… it’s the result of our soul’s bonding, fusing until they’ve become one.
…
But here I am. Alive. As Lucifer’s thick cock slips between my walls and enters me with unbridled passion, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. Rhythmic pumps reinvigorate my veins. I hold on to him like I need him, my nails digging into his flesh as he works my core in a tempo that is unique to us. It’s fast, yet not too fast. Greedy, but generous.