Stripper AU

oh god.

Sleipnir entered the building, trying to shake off his worries. He had a job to do after all. Not many places were after ex military men who were over six foot tall, but then again - apparently he hit a very particular group.

So lost in his thoughts, Sleipnir shouler collided hard into a customer. “Watch it.” He snapped, disappearing into the back to get ready, make his apologises for being late and then do as he was told. Someone was waiting for him? Great. 

Sleip got dressed, pretty boxers, something shinny from one of the female dancers and a quick drink before he was going into the private room. He spotted the guy, recognising his face from previous nights. His name escaped him though, as it did many.

“Your nose does not deceive you, dear.” he hums, keeping his eyes on a number of simmering pots on the stove, “Rajma, chickpea dahl, and paratha. Just like my mother used to make. Come, try it.” He ushers Asmodeus over, dipping a spoon into a bubbling red pot.

  “Mhhh..” The demon’s head came to rest on Taran’s shoulder, arms wrapping around a slender waist as he risked a peek at the food sizzling on the stove. He opened his mouth, readily taking in the spoon for a taste.

"The one who looks after the horses is Anderson, the home handyman," Kieran explains, patting Betty on her neck as an affectionate thanks. Anderson was a man of little words, and when Kieran came to him asking to have a ride with Taran by his side, the handyman merely grunted low and helps the two saddle the gentle beasts. They've arrived at the small lake Kieran favoured, the waters gently lapping, birds singing in the trees.

  The demon stretched himself comfortably towards the other body, relishing the undivided attention and rewarding it with low hums and open mouthed gaps in return. Their ecstatic encounter that night at the club in Vegas had not been completely over when Asmodeus had already decided that he liked this one, and was going to keep playing him with him for a while. And so far, he did not find himself unhappy with that choice.

  It had only taken them two drinks and very little talking to take them to this point; an entirely random rendevouz and playful wink from the other end of the bar offering the warlock an invitation that no man could have easily rejected. And now, with Taran’s possessive praises hailing onto his skin like confessions of undying devotion, Asmodeus was sure to have him hooked.

  He allowed for the other’s languid thrusting to continue on for just a little bit longer, before growing bored with their position altogether. With one smooth and powerful flick Asmodeus rolled the two of them over, only breaking their connections for a split second before he settled himself on top of Taran once more. Fiery locks spilled down like waterfalls, framing both of their faces as the demon leaned down and caught the other’s lips for a slow yet intense kiss.

Sleipnir had grown used to living on the busy streets of Detroit. He had observed a lot about the people - and even the androids - all the while hiding right beneath their noses. Thankfully - the androids that would have recognised him were still to preoccupied with their routine and orders. Sleipnir was the broken one. A deviant - they called them.

“Sasha, come on girl.” Sleipnir whistled for the dog to follow him and after a few seconds she came around the corner. Sleipnir straightened his hat, using the window as a mirror to ensure his LED remained out of sight, the faded blue light slowly beating - like a pulse. He almost looked human. 

@deadxpretty

   so, baby, take my hand, save your soul   we can make it last, take it slow, hmm   and I can tell that you know I know how I want it, yuh

  The club was reasonably filled for a week night. The young and rich laughed, danced, drank and conversed with the younger and the richer, populating the cozy leather couches in smaller or bigger groups looking to take their minds off the general stress and boredom of life. A good night to be out and about - not the crazy exciting, dripping with sweat and ecstasy kind of night, but with the potential to become so if desired. All it took was a little effort from the DJ and perhaps a dash of hell-bent mischief.

  For now, the most promising source for the latter was biding his time in lazy comfort in the VIP area. Somewhere between champagne bottles, quaking bodies and Ariana Grande’s sultry verses, Asmodeus stretched out his long legs and leaned back to get a better view of the dancers on the floor. His red hair glowed like fire under the warm orange lights of the club, and the smile with which he regarded his pretty company was ever so radiant and perfect, as if chiseled into marble by the angels themselves.

a kiss on the throat.