#demon!jake

You wake up hot.

Your skin is sticky with sweat, your hair is sticking to your forehead. You pull back from Jake just enough to look at him. He's still asleep, but he lets out a quiet sound, and before you can stop him, he's tugging you back to him.

“Jake,” you say softly, placing your hand on his shoulder. He's still hot, too hot. Like your own personal furnace. He hums, unmoving. “You're hot,” you whisper, your hand moving to his forehead, palm lightly caressing his skin.

“Not so bad yourself,” he murmurs, eyes still shut.

You huff a laugh, “You know what I mean,” you say, your hand sliding down to his cheek. He groans, not saying anything further, and you sigh his name again.

He huffs, slow and deliberate, “It's fine.”

“I'm sweaty,” you retort.

His eyes open, blinking a few times as he wakes up completely. He’s wearing the tiniest hint of a frown, and his eyebrows are furrowed together.

“I thought it was supposed to work,” you say softly, brushing his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead.

“It did,” he says quietly, his hand wandering from your waist, mapping out the places on your body that made your breath stutter.

His hand slides over the swell of your hip, sliding under the hem of your panties, resting there. Your heartbeat quickens, “Then why are you still so… warm?”

He's still possessive, too. That intensity from after the ritual hasn't left. It's lessened, thanks to what the two of you had done, but it's still there.

He tugs you closer to him despite the heat burning between you. His eyes fall shut again, “Waited too long.”

You grow a little frustrated, “Wake your ass up,” you say, a little harsh.

His hand slides to your backside, his fingers teasingly caressing the plush skin. Your breath hitches.

He hums, his fingers digging into the meat of your backside, before he uses his other hand to move you onto your stomach.

“What are you doing?” You ask softly when he moves down just enough to comfortably tease at you.

He grins, “Nothing.”

You cross your arms under your head, resting your cheek against your heated skin. He leans in, kissing your nose sweetly. You lift your chin, and he presses another kiss to your lips.

He slips his hand out of your panties, but before you can complain about it, he's tugging the material down your legs with one hand. His other hand grabs your face, angling your head up to look at him.

“So pretty,” he says softly, almost a whisper.

Your face flushes as his hand grabs your thigh furthest from him, pushing your legs open. You're already wet, you can feel it dripping, and you shiver as you're exposed to the chill of the morning air. It's such a contrast to the heat boiling from Jake.

His fingers slip along your skin, squeezing your inner thighs, your ass, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You're a tease, you know that?” You mutter when his fingers ghost between your thighs before retreating.

He hums, low and rough, “No baby, I'm not.”

You sigh, your hips pushing up slightly when he does it again. “Jake–”

He crudely slips one finger inside of you, a smirk gracing his lips at the heavy breath you let out.

“It worked,” he says slowly, his finger slipping out only to return with another. He doesn't move them, he just tucks them away inside of you, still. “It's just gonna take a few more times.”

“W-why?” You ask, rocking your hips just once.

“We waited,” he explains gently, his free hand pushing your hair away from your face, cradling your head in his palm. “There's a lot of energy left, sweetheart.”

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, your body heating impossibly further at the implication, “Oh,” you breathe, pushing yourself against his hand, and silent plea for more.

He curls his fingers once, before he slips them out of you. You huff a breath, your upper half melting further into the mattress.

He slides a finger up, easing over your southernmost entrance, and your eyes widen, “Jake–”

He shushes you almost immediately, his lips pressing to your forehead, “Just touching you, honey.”

“Not there,” you say, shame burning your face.

“Yes, there,” he says, gentle and soothing. “Everywhere.”

“That's–” you hide your face in your arms, “Dirty.”

His fingers gently tangle into your hair, pulling just enough to reveal your face to him again. He teases his fingers over you once again, and his eyes light up at the expression on your face. “It's okay to like it dirty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, “It'll be our little secret,” he whispers.

You whimper lightly when his finger teases, threatening to push through. Your fingers tighten around your arms, but you melt into him regardless.

He slides his finger down, slipping inside of your aching cunt, before he pulls back out, and presses his finger into your tightened hole. You gasp, immediately tensing, and he hums, a quiet sound of admonition, “Relax baby,” he breathes, “You're alright– Trust me, sweet girl.”

Your breathing is heavy, your face is hot from shame and want, “Jake,” it's a whine of his name, weak and pathetic.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, “Relax for me.”

You bury your face back into your arms, letting out a petulant whine as he pushes his finger all the way in. It feels wrong. You feel dirty, filthy and depraved. And the worst part is that you ficking love it.

“Fuck,” he says. It's to himself, a curse whispered with unbridled lust.

You feel your body relaxing, easing into a puddle of yearning mush. “More,” you breathe, hoping he heard you as you hide your face from him.

He hums, “I dunno, sweetheart,” he says softly, “Not gonna give you too much. Not yet.”

You huff, but you know he's right. Still, he's unmoving and you're so worked up you could probably come from just a brush of his fingers over your clit.

“Then touch me,” you demand, bucking your hips just once. It feels different with his finger where it is, and it makes your jaw tighten.

“Stop hiding from me,” he murmurs, easing his finger out just a little, before pushing back in.

You let out a quiet sound of embarrassment, but you turn your head regardless. You can barely stand the way he's looking at you, and you lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

He quickly takes control of the kiss, firm and unyielding as his hand slips under your body. A broken moan escapes your lips when his fingers press against your clit. You grab his shoulder, hiding your face in his chest as he starts rubbing over you.

His finger eases in and out of you slowly, gently, while he expertly handles your aching bud with his other hand.

“Fuck Jake,” you whisper, your fingers grabbing his hair.

“I know,” he says, almost condescending, “It feels so good, doesn't it, baby?”

You nod rapidly, “Yes,” you say, voice broken. He hums, his fingers speeding up as they deftly work at you. You whisper your next word quietly, a plea you're almost too ashamed to say out loud, “Harder.”

He lets out a quiet sound, almost disbelieving, before he begins moving his finger inside of you quicker, harder.

You're close, you know he knows. His hand meets your skin with a subdued smacking sound, the noise of his skin hitting yours with force. It drives you crazy.

“Come on,” he encourages.

You feel your thighs shaking, your entire body tightening as you draw closer to your orgasm. You send him a wordless message, throwing it out from your mind to his, Talk to me.

He huffs a quiet laugh, “Yeah?” He nips at your earlobe, “You want me to talk to you, baby?”

You nod, breathing a quiet yes.

“Flithy little girl, aren't you?” He murmurs, “Asking me to say dirty things to you while my finger's in your ass,” he clicks his tongue, “Fucking depraved.”

“I am not,” you argue weakly, pretending it didn't bring you that much closer to your end.

“You are,” he retorts, “You're fucking squeezing around me, dripping from that pretty cunt while she's not even being touched properly.”

You tighten further, your fingers digging harder into his hair, “Jake.”

“Oh,” he breathes, “Pretty girl's about to come with a finger in her ass, isn't she?” You nod despite yourself, and he lets out an almost desperate sound. His lips attach to your skin, wherever is closest, your arm, your shoulder, “I'm gonna fuck this pretty little ass of yours one day, baby.”

You hate that that's what does it. Your orgasm crashes into you, hitting you hard as you sob out his name.

“That's it,” he says with a smug laugh. His fingers rub tight circles over your clit, and his other hand is practically slamming into you, quick and hard as he works you through it. You sink into him, into this mattress, as your eyes roll back. “Fuck, that's it,” he grits, “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises you, his lips kissing over your skin as you come down from your high.

You can only manage a broken hum, melting completely as he slips his hands away from you. He pulls away, tugging his own underwear off, before moving to his knees behind you, settling over the top of you. You move to push yourself up on your elbows after he tugs your shirt off. He lets out a quiet hmm-mm, his hand on your back pushing you back against the mattress.

You lay your head down, pressing by your cheek against the cool sheet beneath you. His thighs are firm, holding your lower half in place as he grabs your ass with both hands. He hums, quiet, before his palm collides with your skin, hard and warm. The smack echoes through the room, muting the gasp you let out.

Your hands instinctively go to your backside, a feeble attempt to cover your skin. He gently grabs your hands, leaning over you as he places them above your head, pressing them into the mattress. “Keep ‘em here,” he warns low in your ear, his fingers slowly skating back down your arms. “Don't. Move.”

Your breathing is labored, your entire body is thrumming, aching with need. He leaves a solid smack to your other cheek, before he grabs the plush skin, kneading it in his hands.

He's… intense.

You know he's still got all of that energy inside of him, burning at him and eating him up. It's obvious in the way he's touching you, playing with you. Like you're the only thing in the world that matters, like touching and fucking you is his only priority.

You don't dislike that at all.

He uses his grip on you to spread you apart, leaving you open and exposed to his eyes. You don't dare speak, you haven't got the nerve at the moment, but you're so desperate to feel him inside of you that it almost hurts.

Before you can get up the nerve to tell him to fuck you, you feel the head of him nudging against you. Your eyes fall shut in contentment, your hands tangling into the bedsheets, still obediently where he placed them.

He leans over you, grabbing the pillow beside your head, before his other hand grabs your waist, yanking your backside up against him as he shoves the pillow under you.

It's lifted your hips, angling your lower half perfectly for him. The soft cushiony head of his cock slips along your soaked heat, dragging back and forth. He ghosts it up, pressing just barely at your lower entrance. Your eyes widen, your entire body tightening in anticipation, and you burn as you realize you want it.

He hums a soft laugh, before he moves back down to your soaked core. Your eyes fall shut the second he pushes into your aching heat, melting beneath him as he settles in to the base.

You take a deep breath through your nose, unaware you were missing this as much as you were. It'd been less than a day. The thought made you feel desperate.

He groans quietly, his hold on your hip tight enough to leave bruises. The position has him pressing against your walls just right, nudging that spungy bump inside of you that makes you shiver and see stars.

He leans over you, placing a hand beside your head, “Does it feel good for you, baby?” He asks sweetly, pressing a chaste kiss to your hair. You nod, humming a soft mm-hmm. In a move you hope he'll let you get away with, you slide your hand down, grabbing his hand in yours.

He huffs a laugh, tangling your fingers together, before he eases your hand back where he placed it, “Told you not to fucking move,” he says quietly, voice firm.

You huff, annoyed and incredibly turned on. You tangle your fingers back into the sheets, purposely clenching around him. He draws his hips back, and before you can mentally prepare for it, he slams back inside of you.

Your mouth falls open around a moan, your fingers tightening as he begins fucking into you. The sound of his skin hitting yours is loud, making your head spin and your thighs tremble.

His fingers wrap around your throat, pulling you up away from the mattress. You're suspended in the air, held up only by his hand squeezing your throat, your lower half being held down by his thighs as he fucks you.

His hand slides down as he yanks you up, until you're resting on your forearms, and he grabs at your breasts. You can't stop the noises falling out of your mouth, broken cries and despondent moans. You aren't expecting it when his hand connects with your breast, a sudden slap that sends a delicious sting racing through you. You let out a loud sob at that, pressing your hips higher up.

“Dirty fuckin’ thing,” he grits out, repeating the action, just a tad harder, on your other breast, “You like that?” His tone is teasing, edging you along.

You nod, quite frankly not caring about the shame you thought you should feel.

He hums, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. He moves his hand to your hair, his mouth at your ear, “You get so fucking tight when it hurts a little,” he whispers, tugging just enough for you know what he means. You feel yourself clench around him as he pulls your hair.

You whine and he huffs a laugh, shoving your face back into the mattress beneath you. Your hands grab into the sheets again, gripping onto them like a lifeline as he holds you in place. He straightens up as he moves both hands to your hips, sliding them down to your backside. Your face reddens when you feel him spreading you open again, feeling just a tad too exposed as he watches himself fuck into you.

You breathe his name, your eyes rolling back when his hand snakes around to your front. He slips his hand between you and the pillow, and rubs tight, unforgiving circles over your clit.

Your hand jerks down, grabbing his wrist in attempts to slow his fingers. His other hand hits your ass with a solid smack, the sound echoing throughout the room. You cry out, and he grabs your hand, holding it at the small of your back. “What'd I tell you?” He asks calmly.

“Jake–”

His hand disappears from your clit, leaving another sound impact into the burning skin of your backside, “What'd I fucking tell you, Y/n?” He repeats, his voice firmer as he grabs the heated skin mercilessly.

“To keep my hands up,” you sob, voice wrecked.

He hums a soft agreement, “You'd be a lot better off if you learned to listen.”

Fuck you.

You don't mean to send it hurling at him, your brain throwing the taunt at him before you could stop it. He slows to a teasing pace, leaning back over you as he rocks into you in an achingly torturous drag. “Fuck me, huh?” He says, lips turned up in a smile against your ear.

“You're mean,” you breathe, in defense of yourself.

“Why?” He asks teasingly, one hand snaking around to your throat again, “You can't handle it?”

“I can,” you grit out, leaning back into him when his fingers tighten around your skin.

“Then fucking take it,” he says through clenched teeth.

He's fucking into you fast and hard again, the head dragging just right against your walls. You're pressed tightly against the mattress and his body, and the pillow is rubbing teasingly against your clit.

“Touch me,” you whisper, “Please, Jake–”

“Oh now she wants it,” he says, smugly. “No.” He grabs the pillow, somehow pressing it just right against your clit, “Grind that pretty little clit right there, baby– You don't get my fingers again.”

You let out a broken sob, despondent and pathetic, but you rock your hips against the pillow regardless. His own hips slamming into your backside helps the pillow rub against you just right, and you're so close your eyes are watering.

“Jake,” your thighs shake, but it's just not enough. You need his touch, “I want you to make me come– please baby.”

You feel his hips stutter, and his hold on you tightens imperceptibly. He growls low in his throat, “You play so fucking dirty,” he murmurs, his hand shoving at the pillow to replace it with his fingertips.

“Oh, fuck–” You gasp when his fingers, relentless, rub quick firm circles over you. “I'm gonna–” It hits you before you can even finish warning him. Hard and heavy, wrecking through you so intense, you cover your mouth with your hand.

He manages to tear it away, letting your sobs and moans fall out freely. “Let me hear you, sweet girl,” he says, his hips moving to a slow, grinding pace, somehow intensifying your orgasm. “Let it out baby, come as loud and as hard as you need to– Fuck, that's a good girl.”

Your body shudders with the aftershocks, his filthy rambling heating your insides despite your exhaustion. He slows to a stop, his hands soothing over your skin as you fight to steady your breathing, “Give it to me,” you whisper, rocking your hips against him, “Inside.”

He huffs a single breath, his hips fucking into you only a few more times before stuttering. He comes with a low groan, his grip on you tighter than it's been the whole night. You reach up, a shaky hand to his face, though the angle is awkward for you, and he presses his cheek into your palm as he recovers.

He eases out of you with a quick breath sucked in between his teeth. Your body feels like jell-o, weak and shaky as he turns you over, his mouth immediately attaching to yours.

“You okay?” He asks in between kisses. You nod with a soft mm-hmm into his mouth, and he pulls back just enough to study you, “Was it too much?”

“No,” you whisper, “That was…” You take a steadying breath, “Perfect.”

He smiles at you, “Let's get you cleaned up,” he says, helping you sit up, “We've got a long day ahead of us.”

“We do?” You frown, wondering just what exactly you had to do.

He grins, “Still got a lot of energy left, baby.”

You huff a laugh, “You're killing me, Jake.”

His eyes scanned the group, eventually landing on you in the middle of your friends. Your costume wasn’t much, just a thin white nighty with some cheap Angel wings fixed on your back. The human interpretation of Angels was laughable, given the true nature of such creatures. Always decked out in all white, implying purity and piety, soft feathery wings that rivaled a dove’s. It made the Demon roll his eyes. Out of his brothers, he had had the “pleasure” of interacting with such beings the most over the years. If only humans knew that the creatures they perceived as “nurturing” and “protective” didn’t actually care about them as people but as cogs in the machine known as “The Greater Good.”

Angels were geniuses at marketing. 

However, the sight of you with your Party City set of wings was endearing to Jake. He wished he hadn’t had such a sordid history with Angels so that he could appreciate the aesthetic fully, but he couldn’t help that. But the way your hair fell over your shoulders, bare except for the thin spaghetti strap of your “dress”, and the way the candles lit your face from where you sat, had the Demon’s interest peaked. He pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and took a few silent steps forward, curious as to what you and your friends were huddled around on the coffee table. 

He almost let out a chuckle when he saw what had the group in such a heated debate: a ouija board. 

“If you even think about using that thing I’m going to leave,” your friend Claire hissed from her spot on the couch while she sipped whatever beverage she had concocted in your kitchen. 

“Bitch please, you are not, it’s a kids game for fucks sake,” your other friend Nora rolled her eyes from the other side of the coffee table while she examined the lid of the box. 

“They just creep me out. Haven’t you heard about them opening doors to things if you’re not careful?” 

“I highly doubt a mass produced piece of cardboard that's sold around the world is a true door to Hell, Claire,” Nora reasoned. 

Claire bristled, “Well you guys can have fun with it, I’m not participating.” 

They were both right in different ways. Inherently the “game” didn’t do much in terms of anything spiritual, but humans had a habit of knocking on doors they aren’t supposed to, and Demons never resisted fucking with them in return. Unfortunately for these girls, a Demon was already in the room with them, and the corners of his mouth were twitching at the thought of giving them a good scare during their party. 

Finally, your wine-induced opinion was heard, “I mean why not? Its October after all. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Very Angelic of you. 

Jake immediately loved the sound of your voice, and sat down in the empty spot across from you and next to Nora. 

His presence didn’t go fully unnoticed, with Nora rubbing her arms through the cheap fabric of her Witches costume, which consisted of a short black dress and a stereotypical pointed hat on her head. 

“Is anyone else cold?” 

She was met with everyone shaking their heads at her. 

“Weird.” 

Jake could feel the anxiety in the room start to build, and he knew it was only going to get better. 

You set your wine glass down on the end table and joined Nora in placing your fingertips on the planchette. The two of you took turns asking random questions, and it was clear to Jake that Nora was trying to move the planchette herself for shits and giggles. 

But now, it was Jake’s turn to start answering. 

“Is there anyone with us, right now?” Nora dramatically asked with her eyes closed. The Demon to her left took the opportunity to nudge the planchette over the “YES” portion of the board. 

“Oh we’re not alone,” you joked and laughed with the girls. 

You had no idea, Jake thought. 

“Are you a ghost, then?” You asked into the air. 

Amused, Jake guided the planchette to the “NO”. 

At that, he saw your fingertips twitch on the plastic surface, and he heard your heart quicken in your chest. 

“I fucking told you to not mess with-” Claire started to protest. 

“If you’re not a ghost, then what are you?” 

Now the fun would really begin. 

Jake slowly moved the planchette around the board, spelling out,

“N-O-T-A-G-H-O-S-T”. 

Nora looked down at the board, “we know that,” she said defiantly. 

“Nora,” you lightly scolded, “don’t be rude to the spirit!”

Nora shrugged, not phased, “Oh spirit of olde, where are you from?”

Jake smirked, 

“H-E-L-L”

Your hands paused as the second L was magnified under the planchette, and looked up at Nora. 

“Oh of course the big bad spirit is from Hell,” your friend was openly mocking whoever it was you were speaking to. 

“Is Hell fun?”

You title your head and narrowed your eyes, “it's Hell, Nora.” 

“What? Maybe it's fun for them?” 

Jake silently nudged your hands to the YES. The mounting anxiety that was oozing off of Claire and the other girls was delicious. 

“Come on, Nora you’re just moving it yourself,” one of your other friends voiced from her spot on the couch next to Claire, unimpressed.

“I am not!” she hissed. The accusation appeared to have shifted her mood and she put her hands in her lap, “whatever, I’m bored and I need a refill.”

She got up in a huff and exited into your tiny kitchen. The rest of the girls followed after her, needing refills themselves. That left you all alone with your fingers still resting on the planchette. 

Softly, you murmured, “sorry about her…she can be a lot.” You had no idea if you were even speaking to anyone, and felt a little dumb, but it was Spooky Season, and you needed some whimsy in your life. 

Jake however, was utterly entranced by you across the coffee table. He sat there, eyes traveling around your face and down your body. The flickering light from the candles lit your features in such a delicate way. He watched as you blushed in embarrassment. You shook your head at yourself, mumbling about how stupid that was to say. You reached for your wine glass and gulped down the little you still had. He studied the way your fingers held the stem of the glass, how your lips fit against the rim, how your eyes fluttered shut as the wine hit your tongue, and how your throat bobbed slightly as you swallowed. 

If you could have seen the Demon in front of you, you would have seen how his soft eyes followed your every movement. You would have seen the dark brown irises he always chose when he wanted to look more human, eyelids heavy and dark circles underneath. He couldn’t look away. 

There wasn’t any fear in the room now, only curiosity from Jake himself. 

But you couldn’t see him. You didn’t know he was truly there. In your eyes, you were tipsy and had just played a slumber party game with your friends. You weren’t talking to a Spirit of any kind, it was just Nora fucking with everyone as she always did. You rolled your eyes at yourself and got up off the floor. In silence you put the ouija board back in the box along with the planchette, ready to move on to other activities you had planned. 

In your buzzed state, you forgot one of the rules to using a Ouija board, which was to always say goodbye to whomever you were speaking to. It was a formality to close any ‘doors’. You hadn’t done that. You simply scooped up your glass and headed into the kitchen to join your friends. That left the Demon alone in your living room. 

Jake contemplated staying around, just to see how the night went, but his ears started ringing, and he could tell his talents were needed elsewhere. It was better for his best interest to head out anyway. The Demon sighed and rose off the floor, giving one last glance through the archway into your kitchen. You and your guests had moved on to tequila shots and arguing over what movie you were going to watch next. Tequila after wine? He knew your human body would be regretting that in the morning. 

He smiled at you one last time before disappearing from your apartment, off to see one of his regulars who had a penchant for Benadryl. 

~!~

In one the many gardens of Hell, the young Demon found himself wandering down a path lined with thick and tangled rose bushes. The petals ranged from bright red to deep purple, all twisting and growing together in ways they couldn’t naturally on earth. He wasn’t in the gardens much, but it was his twin’s turn to pick the meeting place, and this was one of Josh’s favorite places. 

Jake rounded the corner and caught sight of Josh, perched on a stone bench with his newly gifted wings stretched out behind him, face tilted towards the eternally sunset sky, eyes closed. 

“You’re late,” he said as he flexed his wings. 

“You’re the last person to tell anyone they’re late for anything,” Jake replied warmly before sitting down next to him. 

“Sam and Danny can’t make it. Something to do with business they each had Topside,” Josh opened his eyes and looked over at Jake. 

“You’d know all about Topside business, brother. How is she anyway?” 

A toothy grin formed on his brother’s face, “Amazing, as always.” 

Jake had to admit, the situation with Josh and the human hadn’t turned out too bad in the end. He had only met her a few times but he liked seeing how happy his brother was, and he was comforted knowing she had been a big part of that. 

“What about you? Have you been terrorizing humanity with your threatening presence? Even in that ridiculous hat?” Josh nudged Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake rolled his eyes, “you laugh but this hat and my presence are synonymous with nightmares. They blog about it on the internet.” 

“Memes. The height of Demonic achievement.” 

“Shut up,” Jake said with a soft laugh. His thoughts drifted back to you, and how he spied on your party. It had only been a few days since that night, and he couldn’t get you or your little wings out of his head. He’d close his eyes and the sight of how the candles lit your face would flood his thoughts. He had only seen you for less than an hour but he was enamored, besotted, lovestruck. It was such an unfamiliar feeling he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Humans had never particularly caught his eye in his unnaturally long life. But here he was, stewing over the pretty girl in the Angel wings. 

“Who is it?” Josh asked. He knew something was up with Jake. 

“Who is what?” Jake tried to hide the defensiveness in his voice. 

“Whoever has you zoning out that hard. You haven’t been listening to a thing I’ve said in the last two minutes.” 

“Yes I have.”

“What was I saying?”

Jake’s mouth twisted in a frown, “doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.” 

Josh gave him a knowing look, “Jake…” 

“Ijustfindherfascinating,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“You what? You find who fascinating?” 

“Justhisgirl,” he mumbled once more. 

“A girl?” Josh made an educated guess, “a human, girl?”

Jake refused to look up at him but his face reddened at his brother's words. 

Josh’s wings twitched behind him, “you gave me…so much shit…and here you are…” A laugh escaped him and gradually got louder and louder until he leaned over with his elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking from the force. 

“It’s not funny.” 

“Yes…it is,” Josh said after somewhat composing himself. 

“It’s whatever, I’ll probably never see her again.”

“Aww why not?” 

“Like I told you before, humans aren’t a good idea.” 

Josh gave him a look, “you said that and then I ended up having the best year of my life. So…” 

Jake looked down at his watch, “Well I have nightmares to cause, chaos to sew.”

“Yeah, ok,” Josh said with a smile and an eye roll. He couldn’t wait to see how this turned out for his brother. 

~!~

Weeks had gone by, and the Demon had tried his best to keep you out of his mind. He kept himself distracted by staying in other cities, soaking up nightmares far away from you. He was being ‘good’, as far as Demons go. Any trouble he got into had nothing to do with the pretty human in the Angel wings. He had only barely heard your name called out to you before he had left your apartment. 

That didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there. He could be inside your place in the blink of an eye if he wanted, but he needed to keep his distance. The last thing he needed was to get caught up with a human. It might have worked out for his twin, but that was an anomaly. You would be terrified of him, and while he knew your fear would be delicious, a small part of him didn’t want it. He didn’t want to imagine you afraid, or anxious. The possibility didn’t sit right with him. 

But at the end of the day, Jake was a Demon, and Demons are imperfect creatures. After weeks of denying himself another glimpse of you, he found himself standing in your living room. The lights were still strung around on your walls, but now you had some Christmas decor mixed in. To his surprise, the ouija board was on your coffee table, already set up with the planchette resting in the center. 

You were sitting on your couch, staring at the board, trying to psych yourself up into placing your fingertips on the planchette. Against your better judgment, you had tried a few times to “communicate” with the Spirit you thought you had talked to the night of your party. But you never got an answer, not once. It made you feel a little dumb but you kept randomly trying. Something inside you was curious, and fully believed it wasn’t Nora being an asshole that night. 

Jake saw you reach for the board every so often, before returning your hands to your lap or fiddle with your phone. He raised an eyebrow, what were you doing? But then he remembered, you had left the ‘door’ open that night, never saying goodbye. This could be his chance without scaring the shit out of you by suddenly appearing. 

Instead of sitting across from you like the last time, he took his seat next to you on the couch. As a Demon, he could fully shield his presence from humans, which meant you wouldn’t feel a dip on the seat next to you. Jake could be as quiet as a ghost. 

Finally, you built up the nerve to place your fingertips on the planchette. You looked around the room, and quietly said, “Is anyone here?” 

Jake’s breath caught in his throat, and he moved his hand next to yours. The downside of his shielding meant that he couldn’t actually feel your hand, and he found himself wishing he could. He didn’t want you to give up and put the board away, so he began to move the plastic piece. With ease he slid it over to the YES corner of the board. 

You gasped, “holy shit. Umm…” Suddenly your mind had gone blank, and you stammered out, “are you a ghost?”

Jake smiled at the question, the same one you had that first night, and just like before he spelled out,

“N-O-T-A-G-H-O-S-T”

Taking some measured breaths you continued, “what are you, then?” 

Jake hesitated slightly. He could lie, and tell you he was a completely benevolent being just passing through the ether, but he didn’t want to. But he was worried you’d throw the board if he answered honestly. But fuck it. 

“D-E-M-O-N”

A chill ran up your spine as the word was completed, and your fingers trembled. You could do this. What have you got to lose?

“What kind of Demon?” 

There was only one word he could use for simplicity's sake, 

“F-E-A-R.”

“Well that makes sense, I guess,” you shrugged, “do you like being a Demon?”

Jake slid the planchette a little quicker to the YES corner. 

“Of course you do. What’s your name?”

Names. Knowing a Demon’s name had power. Humans like to say it means you can control said Demon, but that wasn’t entirely true. It meant that a Demon could hear their name being called by the person through time and space. He could be down in Hell and her even whispering his name would have the sound zinging through the ether and for him it would be as if you had said it right into his ear. Demons don’t have to answer calls, but more often than not they do. It was one of their more narcissistic qualities. 

Did he want to give you that kind of hold over him? To be able to cut through realms just to get his attention? To be able to summon him whenever you wanted? Yes. 

You were expecting some ancient, Biblical-esque name to be spelled out. And while it technically was Biblical, you certainly weren’t expecting, 

“J-A-K-E.”

This made you purse your lips and tilt your head.

“You’re a Demon…named Jake?” It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but you had to suppress a laugh. 

Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, not understanding why you found that amusing.

The Demon having such a…simple name relaxed you a bit. You didn’t know of many Demonic names, but you were glad the ones you did know weren’t this his. 

You felt a little more bold, “okay, Jake, prove to me you’re actually here.”

Oh, you wanted a show? He still didn’t want to scare you, but he couldn’t help but use one of his usual moves when nightmare hopping. 

The shadows in the room started to move. They grew larger as if they were climbing up the walls, merging together and creeping around the ceiling. The room was suddenly cloaked in darkness. He left the shadows in their altered state for a minute or two before setting them back to where they originally were. 

“Can you show yourself?”

He could, he could and he wanted to. 

“YES”

You swallowed some air, “then do it.” 

Jake stared at you, knowing that there was no going back now. He had been trying to ignore the anxiety that was coursing through your system, but hanging in front of him like bait on a hook. 

He dropped the shield, letting himself be fully visible and very much right next to you. 

The Demon’s sudden appearance started you so much you recoiled against the arm of the couch, with a few expletives rapidly escaping your mouth. He sat stock still, his large dark brown eyes were locked onto yours. He was dressed in fittingly all black, with a wide brim hat sitting atop his head. Long brown hair fell just past his shoulders. He was gorgeous. Fuck. 

“You’re…really sitting here?” 

He shrugged and rested his arm on the back of the couch, maintaining a comfortable distance from you, “I’ve been sitting here, darling.”

Your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth as you continued to take him in. 

“I just…I just can’t believe it was you at my party.”

The corners of his mouth threatened a smile, “Wasn’t even supposed to be there, honestly. I was just passing through and couldn’t resist crashing the party. I also found your…inaccurate costume amusing.” 

Your nose crinkled, “inaccurate?”

His eyes softened slightly, “Angels aren’t meant to be beautiful.” 

Your heart stuttered, and your voice wobbled to match, “th-they aren’t? What’s wrong with them?”

He leaned his side into the back of the couch, “oh, nothing if you like pompous, arrogant hall monitors who make their lack of free will everyone else’s problem.” 

Your eyebrows slowly raised at his words, “that’s easy to say, for a Demon.” 

His features hardened, “I have stories for days about those pricks that would make you understand my opinion of them, darling.” 

You don’t know why you felt emboldened to talk back to a Demon of all beings, but you were enjoying the adrenaline rush. 

“What exactly do you…do…as a Demon?”

“In general I feed off people's fears, mainly through their nightmares but I can do the same if they’re awake as well.” 

He said it so matter of fact. As if he was telling you what the weather was like outside. 

“I also run favors for any of the higher-ups if they need to get people’s…attention.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I just…make my presence known and usually that means that one,” he started counting with his fingers, “they know they’re being monitored and if they owe anything to anyone that they’re not going to get away with not fulfilling their end of the bargain. And two, it frightens them so much that I get a good meal out of it. Everyone wins.”

“How do you…feed…?”

“It’s not really ‘eating’ in the literal sense. It’s more of a one sided energy exchange. Human emotions have insane amounts of energy.”

You shifted in your seat, facing him more directly, “are you feeding off my fear right now?” 

He tilted his head a little, “but you’re not afraid, are you, darling?”

He was right. Apprehensive? Sure. Fascinated? Very. But afraid? Fearful? You couldn’t understand why, but you almost felt calm in front of him. 

“Do you want me to be afraid?” 

He leaned in closer, giving into his bold nature, “fear is the last thing I want to taste from you.” 

Heat flooded your body at his words. Did he want you? You found yourself leaning closer to him, your mind envisioning all sorts of scenarios at the implication. The air around you seemed to shift, and the Demon’s gaze darkened. 

“Why did you come back tonight?”

He stared at you, “You…fascinate me…”

Your eyebrow twitched in confusion, “fascinated?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience interacting with humans outside of when I visit them at night, but when I happened upon your party…I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Something about you was different, and it was an unfamiliar feeling to me. I regret not staying longer that night.” 

“Oh…”

“But my question for you, darling, is why did you try to communicate again with the board?” He casted a sideways glance at your coffee table, before his dark eyes returned to yours. 

You fiddled with your fingertips, “I don’t know…I had this nagging feeling that what happened that night was actually real, and it wasn’t just typical halloween party bullshit. I tried a few more times, but never got a response until tonight.” 

Something in Jake’s chest tightened at the thought of her trying to reach out but he hadn’t been around to answer, or worse, something with truly malevolent intentions would have been on the other side of that board. 

“I guess we’re both a pair of curious creatures, then,” he said softly. 

He was right, curiosity was all your brain could focus on, besides those brown eyes and velvety-looking lips of his. Because of this, you found yourself scooting closer to the Demon, feeling that the space between you was unnecessarily far. 

  The Demon of course noticed you moving closer, and he shifted in his seat to face you more directly. He silently mapped out your face, taking in every feature, and feeling an itch in his hands to hold your soft cheeks. For once in his long infernal life, the hunger he was feeling wasn’t for fear. 

This wordless communication continued until your faces were inches apart. You fought against the urge to flutter your eyes close and lean in even closer. 

He curled a finger under your chin, “I don’t bite, I promise…” 

You swallowed at his words, shaking off any lasting nerves and leaned forward, brushing your lips with his. 

The Demon nearly froze as you made contact, but he quickly kissed you back, not wanting to risk you pulling away. His hands did as they wanted, and finally slid up your jaw to your cheeks cupping them softly as he tilted his head for a better angle. You melted into the kiss, parting your mouth slightly to allow him access. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, before venturing into your mouth and colliding with your own.

The kiss grew more heated by the second, and you found yourself leaning back on the couch, with your new companion beginning to hover over you. The cool metal from the necklaces he wore grazed your chest as he got closer to you, and you relaxed against the couch cushion, allowing him to get fully on top of you. 

Soon, he was flat on top of you and your hands were buried in his dark locks. The hat that sat upon his head was tilted back from the angle, but it was still getting in the way. You moved your hand up his scalp to fling it out of the way, when your fingers curled around something…hard. As soon as your hand came into contact with the strange texture, the Demon on top of you groaned and bit down on your lower lip. 

Curiosity won and you peeped your eyes open and fully pushed his hat off his head, not caring where it landed on the floor. Your eyes widened when you saw what your fingers were curled around. 

A horn. 

He had a pair of them, fixed parallel with each other and curling backwards slightly into sharp points. They were a deep crimson in color, bordering on oxblood. His thick dark hair parted perfectly around them, making the front pieces of his hair fall beautifully on either side of his face. Your body froze underneath him. 

“Y-you have…horns?”

Through heavy lids, he gazed down at you, “most Demons do, darling.” 

You nodded slightly, of course they did. Your fingertips grazed down the side of one, studying the texture along the way. The more your hand moved, the more his hips squirmed and grinded into yours. You became keenly aware of the growing bulge between you. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked, sliding your fingers up to see how sharp the point was. 

His brown eyes seemed to darken even more, and a low grumble came from his throat, “you have no idea.” Jake couldn’t hold back any longer and crashed his lips back onto yours. You gasped as his tongue lapped at your lips for entrance. He savored and swallowed every sound you made, wanting to memorize them all. His hands reached under the t-shirt you were wearing and you swiftly helped him take it off of you. You hadn’t been wearing a bra, and he immediately cupped both breasts, squeezing and kneading your flesh as you arched up into him. His fingers tweaked your nipples before he lowered his mouth on one, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak.

The Demon’s fingers reached down to the top of your leggings. They slid underneath the fabric slightly before he raised his head and looked to you for permission. You slipped your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded, raising your hips off the couch to help him out. 

You hadn’t bothered with underwear since you were at home,  so when Jake swiftly pulled your leggings down and off your legs, his eyes were immediately met with your core. 

His hands rested on the top of your bent knees, slowly spreading them to get a better look at you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his palms. It wasn’t your typical feeling of body heat. There was a pulse to it that crept up your thighs, and reminded you that he truly wasn’t a human being. 

You remained still, watching him look at you. Your eyes followed his one hand as it traveled along your inner thigh, slowly making its way to where you needed him most. His eyes were locked on your core. Gently, his thumb briefly toyed with some of the curls that resided there, before dipping down into your slit. He dragged it through your arousal, hyper aware of every jump and gasp you made at his touch. 

For a brief moment, you thought you had seen his eyes turn fully black before returning to the dark brown you were familiar with. He started to lower himself down, bringing his face closer and closer to your core. Those same piercing eyes flicked up to your face, silently asking for permission again. Quickly you nodded as your heart started hammering in your chest. 

He licked his lips in anticipation. What he hadn’t revealed to you, was that you were about to be the first human that he’d tasted this way. The Demon knew what fear, anxiety, dread, all of the above tasted like. But this? This was desire, your desire, and he couldn’t stop himself from spreading your swollen lips apart with his fingers lowering his mouth to your flesh. 

The taste had him immediately humming into you, tongue swirling around your folds to gather as much of your arousal onto his tongue as he could. The action had you bucking into his mouth, one hand shaking by your side while the other gripped the back of your couch. 

Jake wrapped his arm around your thigh, resting his hand on your hip bone to hold you in place. His tongue dipped into your entrance before traveling upwards to finally give your clit the attention it desperately needed. You cried out as it made contact, jerking your hips once again towards his mouth. He chuckled slightly against you before taking your clit fully into his mouth and sucking on it harshly enough to elicit a high pitched whine from your throat. 

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” you gasped into the air. 

The Demon released your clit and gruffly whispered into your core, his lips close enough to brush against you as he spoke “Jesus isn’t the one making you feel like this, darling.” 

You hiccuped a laugh as his lips wrapped around your clit once more. 

His fingers on his unoccupied hand circled your entrance a few times before dipping a single finger inside. Feeling your warmth surround him had the Demon rutting his hips into the couch cushion. 

Your back arched as he added a second finger, and the hand at your side flew to his dark hair, desperate to get him even closer to your core. He groaned into you as your fingernails dug into his scalp.  With every curl of his fingers or swipe of his tongue, you felt your high hurtling towards you. You grinded down onto his fingers while he continued expertly swirling his tongue around your clit. His hair wasn’t enough. You needed something else to hold onto. Blindly, you loosened your grip to move your hand to the left and wrap around the dark ridged horn that grew from his head. 

The second your hand secured itself around his horn, Jake gasped around your clit, breathing out hot hair against your sensitive flesh before he made a low growl in his throat. His teeth nipped at your skin as his mouth closed around your clit, causing you to cry out once again. His fingers sped up inside you, knowing you were close and wanting to desperately know how you felt and what you sounded like when you came. 

With one more harsh curl of his finger against that spot inside you, and the way his tongue flattened out as it swiped up the left side of your clit, the tension in your body broke as your orgasm took over your body. You shouted his name towards your ceiling, not caring if your neighbors heard it through the paper thin walls of your apartment building. 

He worked you through your high, trying to prolong it as long as he could before he slowed his movements to gently guide you back down. 

Eventually, your body went slack underneath him, and your hand left his horn to rub your face as you came back to reality. Jake lightly peppered kisses up your thigh as he slowly withdrew his fingers. You quietly whimpered at the loss, hating how empty you suddenly felt. 

Jake licked his fingers clean, not wanting to waste a drop of you. He couldn’t get enough, and while he wasn’t sure if all humans tasted this good or not, he was certain that none of them could come close to how delicious you were. 

He carefully crawled up your body, admiring how you blissed out you looked with your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips. 

Slowly you opened your eyes, still in disbelief over what had just happened. The two of you stared at each other silently before Jake lowered his mouth onto yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

The kiss turned heated, and you started to grab at the shirt that he was still wearing. 

He murmured against your lips, “darling, as much fun as we’re having on your couch, if I’m going to have you,” the implication obvious in his tone, “I want to be able to take you properly, on a bed.” 

You stifled a laugh before turning your head towards the open door of your bedroom. Within seconds the Demon had gathered you in his arms as he made his way to the doorway. He crossed the threshold and gently laid you on your bed. 

“You’re wearing far too much,” you boldly observed. 

He smirked at you, “well we can’t have that, can we?” 

You smiled and sat up on your knees and quickly helped him shed the offending layers of clothing, leaving just a pile of black clothing and leather boots next to your bed. Your eyes drank him in, noting every dip and contour of his body. His skin was already glistening slightly with sweat after your activities on the couch. Your gaze lowered and followed the faint trail of hair under his belly button down to thick dark curls that surrounded the base of his cock. 

The way your eyes widened at the sight of him had the Demon fighting back a smirk, and he took his cock in his hand to give himself a few pumps just to tease you even more. Jake crawled up the bed to hover over you. 

If it weren’t for the horns, you wouldn’t have guessed a Demon was looking down at you, with how soft his gaze was. Your chest swelled unexpectedly at the silent emotions swimming behind his dark eyes. You had so many questions for him, and a need to know everything about him and his life. You didn’t want to think about the fact that he’d probably leave after tonight. 

His lips brushed yours with a feather-light softness, as if he was afraid you’d shatter underneath him like glass. The gesture had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

“I know you said you’re not a ghost,” you whispered, calling back to your first interaction, “but promise you won’t disappear like one…afterwards…”

Jake knew what you were asking, and every option weighed heavily on his mind. This was completely uncharted territory for him, and for all of his confidence he was unsure how to navigate it. 

He looked down, focusing on a lone freckle on your stomach before replying, “didn’t anyone tell you that Demons were dangerous?” 

There was a sheepishness to his tone that surprised you, but you countered, “you mean the same people who told me to not fuck with Ouija boards?”

“You never know who you’re talking to…”

“I don’t know you’re not so bad….” you mused. 

His eyes traveled up your body to meet yours, “I’m not an innocent creature, darling.”

Now it was your eyes that darkened, “show me…” 

You felt his thick cock twitch between you in response.

Jake surged forward and captured your lips with his. You wasted no time to return the kiss, cradling his jaw in your hands. Your legs went lax in his hands as he spread them apart to fit himself between them. He reached down to wrap his hand around his cock and dragged it through your slit. You gasped at the contact, and then smiled against his lips. 

“Please…,” you whispered, the need for him taking over your body. 

With a swivel of his hips, his cock plunged inside you, bottoming out as far as he could go. You threw your head back and cried out, relishing how full you felt. 

Jake didn’t even try to hold back the groan in his throat as your velvety heat enveloped him. He tried to give himself a minute to catch his breath. Moreover, he was trying to give you a minute to adjust, but your legs wrapped around his hips, sending the message to move. Happy to oblige you, he reared his hips back nearly all the way, before thrusting forward hard enough that your ankles shook slightly against the small of his back. 

Your mouth hung open and your eyes were screwed shut, and the Demon leaned down to whisper in your ear, “alright there, darling?” 

You tilted your head to reply, “if you don’t start moving…”

He chuckled and whispered something you were sure sounded like a playful, “demanding little thing…” before settling into a steady rhythm. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as he moved, and the feeling of his flesh under your hands sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. 

Jake buried his face in the crook of your neck, planting kisses along your neck as he gained speed. Soon he was all but slamming into you, making your bed creek to the point where the frame was getting closer and closer to hitting the wall behind it. 

There was only one light on in the room, a small desk light in the corner by your laptop, It wasn’t bright enough to fully illuminate the room, but it cast a warm glow from the side of the room it was on. Your eyes fluttered open briefly as you clung to the Demon inside you, and you noticed that the shadows on the walls and the ceilings looked…different. They were moving in ways that weren’t natural, in fact they shouldn’t have been moving at all given the source of light. But they were wobbling and morphing into different abstract shapes around you. It was then you remembered what Jake had done to prove his presence in your apartment: the trick with the shadows and how he used them to cloak all visible light in the room. 

Your attention on the shadows didn’t last however, as he hiked one of your legs higher on his side, pushing it towards you chest and giving him a new angle to work with. This let him hit even deeper, and the head of his cock was rutting against a spot inside you that had you gasping for air. 

Jake felt you squeezing him harder and more frequently as he continued his pace, and he could tell you were getting close. He smirked against the skin of your shoulder and reached down with his other hand to grab your ass cheek and knead the soft flesh as he worked you towards your second orgasm of the night. 

At this point you were a babbling mess underneath him, holding on for dear life as you hurtled towards the edge. He lifted his head up and greedily crashed his lips into yours, wanting to feel every gasp and reedy sigh coming from you. 

It was all too much, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and a cry flew from your mouth as your orgasm took over, shattering beneath him. 

“Yeah…yeah that's it, darling…doing so well,” he encouraged in a low voice as he continued to piston his hips and work you through your high. 

Jake slowed as you began to come down, and your muscles felt like jello from how tense they had been leading up to your orgasm. His lips pressed sweetly into your cheek, as he felt you relax even further onto the bed. He hoped you weren’t too tired, because he wasn’t through with you. 

Before you could register which way was up, the Demon pulled out of you, hissing at the sudden rush of cold air on his cock. Your eyes opened a bit in curiosity, as you knew he hadn’t came yet. The shadows were still flickering on the walls to their own accord, resembling flames with their movements. 

He sat up on his knees, resting on his haunches and taking your hips in his hands. In one swift motion, he had you on your stomach, yanking your hips backwards before he reared back himself and slammed back into you from behind. 

You cried out into the pillow beneath you, your body still sensitive from your last orgasm. All of her nerve endings were on fire, and lightning bolts of pleasure radiated from your core as he rutted into you at a brutal pace. 

It was a struggle to keep yourself properly on your hands and knees, as every thrust had you lurching forward and nearly off balance. Curse words fell from your mouth, harmonizing with the grunts and heavy breathing from the Demon behind you. His thick hands and long finger were squeezing your hips in such a way you were sure there would be marks left behind, but you didn’t care, you loved how rough he was at that moment. A stark contrast to how he had been in the previous round. 

He slowed his pace slightly to these long and deliberate strokes, wanting to really savor how incredible you felt wrapped around him. But while this angle felt amazing not only for you and for him, he felt a little far away from you, and he didn’t like that at all. 

While maintaining his pace he gathered you up in his arms and pulled you upright, securing your back to his front, and his chin on your shoulder. The new angle had him thrusting upwards into you, and it made your head fall back onto his shoulder. Your legs were starting to shake from the excursion, and instinctively you reached up and took one of his horns in your hand to keep yourself balanced. 

This caused the Demon to growl next to your ear. His hips involuntarily swiveled and pushed his aching deeper inside you at the feeling of your hand on one of his horns. The combined sensations had his own high looming in the distance, but he didn’t want to cross the finish line alone. He slid his hand down your torso to your clit, immediately figuring out the pattern that caused the biggest reaction from you. 

“You got one more for me? Hmm? Do you, darling?” He spoke into your ear and pressed his lips on the shell of it. “I know you do; you can do it. You’re already squeezing me so tight.” 

He was whispering pure filth into your ear as he kept rutting into you and working your clit. He didn’t just want to feel you come again, he needed it. Once around his fingers and another around his cock wasn’t enough for him. He needed more. 

Your body started to tremble in his arms, and he knew you were right on the edge. He wasn’t very far behind you as his cock stiffened even more. Within seconds you were clamping down around him again, throwing your head back and crying out towards the ceiling. As your high slammed into you again, the Demon’s own orgasm course through him. He let out a low groan as his hips stuttered a few times before pushing into you one final time, emptying himself completely. In the midst of it all, the shadows closed in on you both briefly before retreating and settling back in their rightful places, looking completely normal now. 

His hand slowly circled your clit, trying to prolong your orgasm as long as he could, but when your body jolted at the sensitivity he stopped and slowly withdrew from you. Your legs started to give out and he quickly caught you and gently laid you back down on the bed, not wanting you to fall. 

The sight of his release slowly rolling down your thigh distracted him for a second, before he remembered it was the gentlemanly thing to do to clean you up. Thankfully, you had a bathroom attached to your room, so he didn’t have to go too far to get a warm washcloth to clean you both up. The whole time you watched him through heavy lidded eyes, exhausted from the whole evening. 

On his way back from throwing the rag in your hamper, he noted his pile of clothes and his hat in the other room. He turned back to your bed, your eyes were nearly shut and you were under the covers. An intrusive thought flashed through his mind, that it would be so easy for him to gather his things and leave, letting you wake up in the morning and chalk it all up to a wine-induced dream. But then your request from earlier filtered through his thoughts, and a pang shot through his chest. No…he couldn’t do that. Most surprisingly, he didn’t want to. 

He shook his head before crawling into your bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on his chest. 

You didn’t want to fall asleep, and you tried real hard to stay awake. But his lips rested on the crown of your head, while his fingers traced little patterns on your lower back. It wasn’t long before you both drifted off into a restful sleep. 

Hours later, when the sun had fully risen and light was streaming through your window, you were awoken by a low snore near your ear. Blinking your eyes open, you looked up to find Jake’s face inches from yours. His arms were around your waist and he was practically sharing your pillow, but you didn’t mind. Carefully you turned over to face him, trying not to wake him up. His features looked so much softer this way, and you could fully admire the slope of his nose and how his dark eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. He was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. 

The Demon began to stir awake, and his eyes slowly opened to find you laying in the crook of his arm, absently fiddling with his necklaces. 

“Morning…,” he murmured, voice nearly an octave lower from sleep. 

“Morning…,” you replied, unable to hide the smile that slid across your face. 

His hand reached up and cupped your face, tilting it up wards so he could slot his mouth over yours in a languid kiss. 

As you pulled away, you whispered a question against his lips.

“Not a ghost?”

His arms tightened around you and pulled you closer to him. 

“Not a ghost, darling.” 

FIN

“Let’s go already!” Jake called gruffly down the hallway. 

Today, Y/N had let Jake into her place upon his arrival. It was announced, she was expecting him, so he was allowed to wait in the living room. He was getting impatient though. He hadn’t seen her at all since he’d been there, her door opening on its own when he had called out who it was. 

“Do we have to go?” She calls back, still formless for all Jake knows. 

“What happened to the demon I met 6 months ago? Who I had to beg to stop fucking with the bars?” Jake grins to himself, Rori on his lap. The demon had won the animal over and they were quite friendly whenever they saw each other. Sometimes Jake would run into just Rori out and about these days. 

“She was naive. She didn’t realize just how much it sucked here and that her identity was not all she thought and she didn’t know that there’d be an annoying but hot angel–” She wasn’t yelling, but Jake could hear her as if she were standing in front of him. He figured it was a trick she could do. 

“Alright, alright, so is now not a good time to mention that Josh still hasn’t turned up?” Jake wasn’t sure if he wanted to soften the blow or not, so he threw it out there, wondering how it would stick with his demon colleague. 

Josh had been MIA for two months. Ever since the dive bar and the ensuing events at his apartment. Jake had tried mildly to reassure Y/N that it was not because of her, but with no word from Josh either, Jake was starting to grow worried as well. He’d gone years without seeing Josh, but he usually checked in or gave a forwarding address when he was going to be gone for a long period of time. This was pretty unusual, Josh was a planner and this was clearly not planned. 

She finally appeared in the living room, eyes wide and skirt unzipped with one boot unlaced. Half-dressed and distressed at Jake’s words, but trying to mask it with disdain. 

“Well, it’s not surprising at this point. It really doesn’t matter to us, does it?” 

Jake shook his head in agreement and stood, “Then why don’t you finish getting ready so we can have a good time. You being sulky really doesn’t do it for me.” 

“I’m not supposed to do anything for you anymore if I remember correctly,” She parses, walking back to her room. “Never again.” She repeats in a low voice Jake wasn’t sure was supposed to mimic his own. 

He chuckles a little and looks at the dog sitting next to the spot he had just occupied. Rori stared blankly back at Jake, seeming to remember why he had found the demon traitorous before. 

“I’m trying to be her mentor, damn,” Jake mumbles under his breath so hopefully only Rori hears him. 

Jake promised the bar they were headed for wasn’t lame. The demon’s 6 month anniversary of being back Earth-side also happened to coincide with her ‘human’ birthday. They had made no progress on learning what she really was and she hadn’t had another panic attack yet so they were biding their time. 

She was filled with melancholy as of late. Sad she wasn’t as happy as when she’d first come. Sad she still didn’t know who she was. And sad that Josh had abandoned her. She was fine…besides all of that. 

With the search for her true identity on indefinite hold and Josh MIA, Jake was trying to be nice. And he really didn’t know how to do that. He had set up this birthday-anniversary soiree when she had mentioned it in passing one night when they were writing up their reports together. They had to, to ensure that both of them weren’t claiming they had created some new evil that they were stealing from the human’s creation. But she had mentioned it and with her so down in the mouth all the time, Jake thought that taking her out would help take her mind off of everything. He hadn’t planned on her being so fucking reluctant about it all, but he was trying in his own way to hide his disappointment. 

He grabbed drinks from the bar immediately when they arrived, knowing she would probably want a bottle of red wine and himself a bottle of whiskey. He came to the barstool seats she had found in the corner with the two full bottles and two appropriate glasses. She appreciated his foresight about the amount of alcohol and his demon abilities at procurring these items. 

For some reason, which definitely didn’t have to do with her sadness that she was fine about, she didn’t feel like dancing that night, content to watch Jake. Much to Jake’s chagrin. 

“C’mon,” Jake almost pleaded, he was trying so hard to get her into the evening but she was half way through her wine and nowhere close to being the life of the party he knew she could be. “It’s your fucking birthday and you don’t look a day over 27.” 

He winked with his stupid joke and she rolled her eyes at him, insisting he could go without her. “I’ll be happier over here. If I go out there, I might swallow someone whole.” 

Jake tipped his head closer and she could smell the whiskey on his breath, his chest warm practically touching her nose. “You know that nobody would mind that.” 

“You’ll get more action without me, Jake.” She presses on his chest, causing him to take a quick step back as he stares at her face intently. “I’d be way too distracting for anyone to even think of dancing with you.” 

The smirk on her face makes Jake feel like he’s triumphed a little. It was a flicker of her happier, more confident self. That’s what he wanted for her. It was depressing to see a pretty much all-powerful being being all sad all the time. He blows a kiss her way and then saunters through the crowd, easily taking the center how she normally would. 

He turns his body back to face her once he’s where he wishes to be and raises his chin, silently seeing if she’ll come join him one more time. She sips her wine in response and crosses her legs, relaxing her joints into the grooves of the wooden countertop. 

Without much time for himself, women began to flock to Jake. It was hilarious to watch from an outsider’s perspective. He was given free shots left and right and she laughed to herself. She wasn’t sure if it was Jake’s demonic presence that encouraged the women or if it was simply the way he looked. He flashed an evil grin that human women took as charming. His black unbuttoned button down, tucked into his baggy black pants on one side while the other hung loose, he looked rugged and expensive. He had pulled his glasses down onto his face when he had entered the dance floor and maybe those shrouded him in mystery. His clean black boots had white embroidered snakes curling around the sides as if they disappeared up into his pants. 

Sweat began to gather in the notch between his collarbones and at his temple the longer he stayed on the dance floor. He had a rotation of women dancing about him and he seemed to love the music that was playing. Y/N agreed, while she didn’t recognize the songs, she hadn’t immediately moved to change it upon their arrival. 

Her eyes watched the way Jake’s body moved and was reminded of the way it had felt. She didn’t like to think about her first night with Jake often because it had been something special and beautiful which was so unlike anything else about their relationship. It was like that one night had existed outside of the reality in which they lived. Jake, after that, had been gruff and professional with her. Little comments here and there would slip through the cracks, but she chalked them up to demon nature. 

That night was a microcosm. How he had writhed above her and done anything she asked. How she had laid in his arms afterward and felt safe and seen. It was unlike anything she had ever felt in this world and then it was ripped from her. It was painful to reminisce on it because she knew she could never have it that way again. Why? She wasn’t exactly sure, but she thought it was because Jake didn’t like that he had let someone in. She didn’t press, but sometimes late at night her mind would slip to memories of Jake on his knees and Jake inside her. Or right now. 

She was watching him dance, women grinding themselves back onto him as he let his hair shake out behind his shoulders and she remembered what it had felt like to be in his powerful embrace. Like Josh, yet so extremely different. So different she couldn’t begin to think which she preferred. Given that Jake had shut her down about ever fucking again and her night with Josh had quite literally driven him away, she wasn’t exactly sure she’d ever have to choose since both of them had chosen for her. 

As she wallowed in her dwindling wine, she allowed herself to wonder if this was all actually real and not just her own hell. A world where she was allegedly special, but in reality she was cursed. Cursed to have the two men she’d ever felt real connections with reject her after she’d had sex with them and then forced to live the rest of her time with them just out of her reach and have a mundane confusing existence as an ‘other’, an outsider, in the world she had once loved. 

She shot straight up in her seat, discarding her wine with a finality to it and began to march through the crowd towards Jake. The bodies part for her to slip through easily except for the one woman who was currently trying to dry hump Jake. Y/N grimaced for a moment before her lips curled into a sickly sweet smile, her own version of the charming evil grin. 

She wasn’t sure if Jake had noticed her yet, but if he had he had made no moves to remove the obstacle in between them. He either had his eyes closed behind the dark shades or was waiting to see what she would do. 

“Sweetheart, can you hop off my boyfriend for a sec? I need to talk to the bastard.” 

Her eyes began to glimmer a slight red as she watched the distress in the woman’s face grow. Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly, still smiling, somewhat hoping the other woman would put up a fight. 

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry, he didn’t say,” The stranger sputters and the demon bites back a laugh. 

“Don’t worry about it, hon. Like I said, he’s a bastard.” She finishes her sentence with a wink and a light shove to the drunk woman so that she could get to Jake. 

She could barely make out his eyes behind his glasses, so she took the liberty of taking them off of his face and placing them in his breast pocket. Something about the action made the skin on her neck prickle with memory, but then it was gone, distracted by Jake’s deep chuckle. 

“Jealous, kid?” He tilts his head down and a little to the side so she can hear him. 

“No,” She growls, getting pushed closer to Jake by the crowd, her hands landing on his chest as she tries to keep her distance but to no avail. 

“It seems like my heavy bump and grind got your no-good-panties in a twist?” Further liquored up, Jake is slipping more than usual and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. 

He had liked having a body close on the dance floor, but now that it was hers he was even happier. She could feel it. 

“No, you absolute old man,” She groans, but can’t help the flutter of her eyelids towards Jake’s neck in all its sweat-glistening glory, now up close and personal. 

“Says the demon who said ‘neato’ when I showed her how to use her television properly.” 

“One time!” She shot back. “We’re getting off track. I stomped over here for a reason.” 

“Because you want a piece of this action,” Jake nodded his head and chewed on the inside of his cheek, smirking at her. 

Her nails dig into Jake’s chest and he quiets. 

“Is this hell?” She hisses, eyes crazed. 

“Pardon?”

“Is. This. Hell. Is this my secret punishment, men who have sex with me and then won’t touch me again. A mundane life, tormented by you two and some unknowable question of who I am.” She repeats her idea. “Am I being punished?” 

Jake chuckles and swings her body around, scooping her off of her feet and taking them in a half circle. “Absolutely not. I would never agree to being a punishment demon. I’m way too old for that, I’m an Earth demon I promise.” 

“But what if you’re just saying that so I won’t figure out that this is a fake earth? Or what if this is indeed Earth and I still was sent back as punishment and you’re lying?” She prods, poking her fingers into Jake’s skin. 

He frowns, realizing how serious she was about this. His hands slide down to her hips, stilling the half-hearted dancing they’d been doing. “For real?” 

She hums, mulling it over again. “Yeah. I need you to prove it somehow or else I’m ringing head office to say something about you and Josh’s alliance because, I swear, this is all fake.” 

“Fuck,” He breathes. He yanks at one of her hands and immediately whisks them out onto the street. 

Out on the dark pathway, the crowds of people seem to dissipate and gray, Jake’s doing. He was muting out the rest of the world so that he could focus on the problem that Y/N was becoming. 

“You’re serious.” It’s not so much a question as a confirmation.

“Yes.” 

“Well, how am I supposed to convince you it’s real?” He sounds annoyed but also a little desperate. 

She scans his face, his brows furrowed and jaw clenched. At least he seemed genuinely disturbed by this situation. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe this all was just her brain trying to cope with everything that had happened in her life and death. Her mind was trying to rationalize a world that clearly wasn’t rational and it all felt like it was imploding because she was hitting a milestone. She felt more human than she ever felt her first 27 years on Earth. 

Her intensity washed out of her, a doused fire simmering to a fizzle. Jake saw it in the droop of her arms and the way she dropped eye contact with him, instead scanning her feet that scuffed at the ground. 

“Maybe I’m just sad on my stupid fucking birthday,” She says and Jake huffs, with a roll of his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious,” Jake fires up. “You dragged me out of there because you’re sad on your birthday? You’re a fucking demon, just forget about it.” He had tried being nice, but the feeling of a heart attack that had come over him when she had said she’d call the head office had sent him into a desperate state. To have her so quickly blow it all off, summing it up to birthday blues. She was ridiculous. 

“I want to go home, Jake.” 

“You’re a fucking pest.” He spits. 

“Fuck you,” She practically screams and turns to walk away. Jake’s hand grips her wrist and she tries to yank it free. “Let me go.” 

“Stop. Okay, just stop. For one fucking second.”

She huffs and turns to Jake. His eyes are more of an orange than yellow right now and she’s not sure what that means. His hands move to her forearms and she can feel how tight his grip is on her, it scares her a little. 

“Don’t ever,” He pauses, either for emphasis or to collect himself. “Scare me like that for some no good, stupid reason. Do you understand me?” 

“Yeah, whatever…fuckin’ altar boy bitch.” She grumbled, moving to push past Jake. In an instant, she isn’t pushing past him down the street, instead into the dim hallway of his home. “What the…” 

His hand was around her throat in an instant. He’d taken their impending fight to somewhere more private. She would’ve been impressed if she wasn’t so angry with him. His hand was forcing her to meet his eyes as he spoke slowly. 

“I think you’re mad at me.” His eyes boring into hers. “Why are you mad, Sal? Because I was doing your job better than you? Can’t get it up anymore for evil after you got touched by an angel?” He keeps talking as she tries to yank away from his hold again. It felt like he was slipping into a demonic trance. “I think that’s your problem. Went and got fucked by an angel, he left and now you’re all mushy. Get over it. That’s not who you are” 

Voice strained with the pressure on her neck, she hisses. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

He shrugs as if the question rolled off his back like water. He never answered her questions and it made her want to scream. 

“I know how to deal with a brat when I see one, kid. And I know you, you’re a huge fucking brat when you don’t get what you want.”

She tried to shake off his grasp and Jake put more pressure on her skin. She fought back the moan in her throat. The pressure of his hands and his body, hard against her, paired with his harsh words – however she hated hearing them, sent spirals of electricity through her body. She wanted Jake and she missed Josh and she wished she’d never been sent here, but this was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“I think you were just pissed I didn’t have my attention all on you. That’s why we had to tear out of there. You wanted me to grab you by the hips and grind against you all night. Because you’re sad.” He pauses, inhaling her scent, eyes flickering to their usual sinister yellow. The fear and anger was intoxicating to him, just a little. “It’s not my fucking fault…”

She mumbles something out in a hoarse whisper. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” His grip loosens only slightly. 

“Slut,” she repeats louder. “You were being a slut and it was embarassing. I think you loved it though. All those girls fawning over you, wanting me to want it. You were trying to make me jealous. Even though you always say never again, you still want it.”  

Jake laughs cruelly, his nose trailing along the exposed skin of her jaw. “I can’t help it that they throw themselves at me. That last one was relentless, huh?”

The flicker of avoidance in her eyes catches Jake’s attention and like the demon he is, he zoned in on the hole in her armor. There was a sliver of truth in what Jake had been spouting for the last few minutes of this odd dance between fighting and foreplay. 

He pressed closer and she fought back another moan. Jake took note of the way her legs shifted though and he knew. 

He hummed, savoring the victory he knew he’d already gotten. “Did she get under your skin? How she was pressed up against me, writhing as if I already had my aching cock inside her rather than nestled between her pert ass cheeks? The tiniest jean shorts…” 

She felt him against her thigh, throb and her eyes shut. Jake yanked at her hair with his other hand and flipped her around, assuming the position he had just described. His one hand was still at her throat and the other trailed down her back to press at her hip, keeping him close. 

He put his lips to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Hot and insistent. Demonic. This was what he was at the end of the day. Who they both were. No matter how much he might want to change, old habits die hard. 

“You know we could go back?” His tone is teasing, sinful. “Could fingerfuck you right in front of her if that’d make you feel better. Just to show her I’ve already got a play thing.” 

She tried to keep her mouth shut. Saying everything she wanted to scream at him in her head.

She couldn’t help that she pressed back into him and Jake laughed again. “Fuck, you need it, yeah? My angel of a brother can’t give it to you like this, huh?” His grip tightens and she sputters out an expletive. “He ran off because of you, isn’t that right? He hated it so much.

“Shut up, Jake.” She gets out, her eyes frantically switching to black, pulling on any power that might help right now.

“I wouldn’t speak to me like that,” he warns, rocking his hips against hers. “Go to my room.”

She rolls her eyes, breath heaving when he releases his hold on her finally. She hates that he knows she’ll listen. She curses him as he watches her with a smugness in his jaw and complete arousal in his pants. 

“I hate you,” She spits one last time. 

“Yeah, right.” He smirks with a shake of his head. 

She tried not to think about Josh as she sauntered to Jake’s room. How similar and yet how different he was to his demon counterpart. The sick notion (even as a demon, she thought it might be too far) that passed through her head of what it might be like to have them at the same time. Two sets of hands, two mouths, two of the same…and she knew they were oh so similar. She fell back onto his bed and wished Josh would appear, to offer his grace to this turbulent chase. 

“What’re you thinking about in that evil head of yours, little one?” Jake appears in the doorway, his voice calmer now. She riled him up in ways he had never thought possible. 

“Nothing.”

“I can make you tell me, you know that.”

She rolled her eyes, watching Jake crawl across the bed to her. His face was in her neck the moment he was close enough and she felt the drag of his teeth down the fragile skin. 

“Don’t make me put you in your place.” He murmurs, his tongue flicking against her. 

“How’re you gonna do that, oh powerful one?” After a moment's respite, she was feeling like taking some of the power back. With his hand no longer around her neck, she didn’t feel so trapped. 

Jake chuckled darkly and then growled, “Watch.”

“I thought I was just your mentee and you were my mentor. Where'd that—Ow! Oh,” she paused at the feeling in her throat that had hurt but was quickly turning to ecstasy. “Fuckkk…Jake, what’re you–doing? Oh fuck!”

His teeth had sunk into her skin and she felt something hot and sticky rushing down her body. She gulped, gasping for air as she began to writhe and moan with no stimulation apart from whatever Jake was doing to her neck. He was moaning against her now too, with licks and slurps to the fresh open wound on her.

“Tell me what you were thinking,” he repeats when he pulls back, drops of dark inky blood racing down his chin as he stares at her with his yellow eyes tinged red. “Or I’ll drain you.”

“You wouldn’t,” she gasped, voice choppy. “You can’t! They’ll call you down for a trial before the dark council, for sure.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’d get some straight answers on who you are then,” Jake grins and some of his teeth are sharper than she’s ever seen. His fingers are at her thighs again, teasing. “But I’ll bring you so close to the edge that you’ll tell me what you’re thinking because you’re so weak from the terrible mix of pleasure and pain and maybe then some. Wouldn’t you rather just tell me now so we can save the recovery period and I can fuck you into next week instead?” 

There’s a moment of silence. Her mind racing and attempting some sort of coherency with the head rush Jake drinking her blood had just caused. A mix of desire and pain and surprise and fear and hot, heady ecstasy. 

“You and Josh. Both,” she manages to choke out.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes still staring into hers. “Absolute fucking slut,” Jake laughs. It’s almost painful in its sound. “It’s incredible they didn’t just make you a succubus…Now that wasn’t so hard was it.”

“Jake…”she whined, the slick of the blood on her throat was drifting down her chest. 

He leaned down at her voice and lapped at it, then he ran a hand gently over the wound, effectively closing it right back up. 

“Good as new,” He whispers, his voice soft and private. Completely different than moment’s ago. Knowing Jake was like experiencing constant whiplash. Exciting, but dangerous. 

Her legs shift as Jake’s knee presses against her heat. He smiles, teeth no longer as sharp as they were. More a man than a monster visually, but now she was certain she’d never forget the animal inside him. Enticing as it was. 

“Alright alright. You want me to fill this pussy, yeah?” His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of the panties that still covered her. He had magicked away all of their clothes except under garments when he’d first slid over her and she’d barely registered it. 

“Fuck it so good you forget all about my brother? How’s that?” His fingers play between her quivering slit, messy with her wetness. He hums, middle finger wandering to prod at her entrance that was throbbing to the sound of his voice. “Yeah you want that I can tell.” 

She whined, completely at the mercy of his hands, barely aware of the actual words he spoke and just riding the sweet current of his gruff voice. The most perfect timbre. It made her nipples peak and her legs spread wider. She just wanted him to consume her. 

Effectively, she has forgotten about Josh and she can barely compare this Jake to the first time she had him. It’s like they were two completely different people. Tonight, she was lost in Jake in unfamiliar ways. His scent encased her. Sweat and fire burning. Still a little bit of nickel in the air from her blood, she tasted it on his tongue. 

As his fingers opened her up, he thrusted into her thigh, wanting to sink into her. She moaned at the feeling of him hot and hard against her. Her hands grabbing at his shoulders as his lips laid brazen kisses across her healed neck and heaving chest. Jake brought her to the edge a few times, making her scream and shake before he gave in to what they both truly wanted. 

His cock was just as beautiful as she remembered. Thick and heavy as it gleamed between their bodies. Jake’s eyes caught hers as she stared and he smirked, leaning forward to drag it through her folds while she watched. The sound of her slickness fell over their ears, mixing with heavy breathing. She shook slightly at the sensation of the head dragging over her sensitive clit and she whimpered when Jake prodded it against her entrance. 

“Good fucking girl,” He groaned as he slid in. 

She moaned his name back and he gifted a sweet kiss to her lips. One of the first tonight. He began to thrust in and out steadily. The slick sound between them only growing. A red light flickered around them as he sped up. Her fingers gripped tighter against his clammy skin, nails digging in and leaving jagged lines. He groaned at the pain, pushing harder. 

Their breathing melded, their bodies working in tandem. He’d grow close and slip out of her, making her whine and then he’d move to another position he remembered her enjoying. She wished he’d speak more. He’d grown quiet, heaving, stuttering breaths, some of the only sounds leaving him since he’d entered her. 

She knew he was close when he brought her back to missionary. Thrusting faster, breathing more erratic than before. His voice seemed to have come back to him as he babbled. “Swear you’ve got a magic pussy. So wet and perfect,” he sighed. “My cock wants to live here, Sal.”

She moaned in response but something felt off. Jake was cumming in seconds causing her to tighten with his release, an orgasmic cloud fogging her mind. Forgetting what she was disturbed by for a few minutes as they basked in the afterglow. 

Jake rolled off of her and touched his fingers against the edge of his sheets, lightly singed. That was new. Their breathing evened and she felt herself curl into Jake’s side. His hand came to her shoulder protectively. 

Her voice comes out as a whisper, “Don’t call me that again.” 

“What?” Jake racks his brain for the names he had called her, wondering which one had been too far. 

“Sal.” She responds calmly, her body feeling light, except that one nagging feeling. “I don’t think that’s my name.”

-

lmk what you think!

You wake with a start, heart thudding, breath caught mid-gasp. A shiver runs down your spine– not from cold, but from something else. The air is different, charged, heavy with a presence. You shift to sit up– then freeze.

Jake is standing at the foot of your bed.

His eyes are fixed on you, unreadable in the dim light. You blink, struggling to shake off the fog of sleep.

“Jake?” your voice is hoarse, hesitant. “What are you–”

“What’d you dream about?” His voice is low. Almost gentle. But there’s something behind it, taut and dark, like a wire pulled tight.

You swallow, the fragments of your dream flickering behind your eyes before you can stop them. Jake– his mouth on your throat, his hands gripping your waist. The way he held you like you might shatter… right before he ruined you. His body pressed to yours, relentless. His voice in your ear, filthy, commanding, tender in the cruelest ways.

Your pulse stutters.

“I… I don’t remember,” you murmur, pushing yourself back until your spine meets the headboard.

He tilts his head, “Don’t lie to me.”

It’s not a threat. It’s quieter than that. Something broken. Something hungry. That voice… steady and soft, but laced with filth, laced with memory.

“I’m not,” you whisper, the lie already unraveling.

Jake steps closer.

“You are.”

The air in the room tightens, as if it's being pulled from your lungs. You don’t move. Can’t.

He’s at the side of the bed now, then kneeling, crawling up– slow, deliberate. His palms press into the mattress on either side of your hips, his body heat bleeding into yours, crowding you, cornering you.

His face is inches from yours. His breath brushes your cheek. And then, softly, almost reverently, he leans in, the tip of his nose trailing along your jaw until it rests against your cheek.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, “what I did to you in that dream.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. Heat blooms in your chest, crawls up your throat. You turn your face slightly, avoiding his eyes, his mouth, his presence, but he’s too close. There’s nowhere to go.

“I don’t know,” you murmur.

Jake pulls back just enough to see your face, eyes narrowing slightly. His mouth twitches, humorless. “You whimpered my name,” he says.

The words hang in the air like smoke. You freeze. He doesn’t miss it.

A slow, charged silence stretches between you.

Then, he lifts one hand again. Barely touches your skin as he brings his fingers to your temple. A single tap.

“Let me in,” he says softly. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Your breath catches.

The bond thrums just beneath the surface, like a current waiting to be touched. He’s right there. Just outside the wall you’ve built around your thoughts. All you have to do is lower it.

And against every instinct screaming at you to keep it locked– You let go.

The effect is immediate.

The connection snaps into place, a sudden rush of feeling and memory that slams into both of you. His eyes darken as the dream unfolds for him– in you. Your body arching under his. His mouth dragging across your skin. The heat. The weight. The way you needed him, desperate and undone.

You feel his reaction like it’s your own. The tension in his chest. The way his jaw clenches. A low hum of arousal and disbelief tangled together in the space between your minds.

Jake’s breath is shallow, ragged, as the last flicker of the dream fades from the space between you.

He saw everything.

You feel it– how hard he's gripping the mattress, the weight of him just barely held in check. His forehead presses to yours, his body heat wrapping around you like a second skin. Your thoughts are still tangled, your mind open and exposed, the bond pulsing between you like it’s alive.

Then he moves.

A slow shift. Not impatient, but intentional. Like a hunter. His lips brush your jaw, then lower– kissing softly along the line of your throat. You gasp, and try to turn your head.

He doesn’t let you.

“Don’t,” he breathes against your skin. “Don’t run from it now.”

You’re trembling. Not from fear.

His mouth finds the spot just beneath your ear, and he lingers there, his lips barely moving as he speaks. “You dreamed about me telling you I loved you.”

You freeze. Everything inside you clenches.

You don’t answer.

But the bond does. You feel the shift in him– he knows what that moment in the dream did to you. What it still does.

He kisses lower. The slope of your neck. The edge of your collarbone. His breath is uneven, like the restraint is costing him something.

“I said it while I was inside you,” he murmurs. “While you were falling apart for me.”

You bite your bottom lip hard. Eyes shut tight. You wish you could block him out again, shove the wall back up, but it’s too late. He’s inside, deep, wrapped around every thought.

“And you said my name,” Jake continues, voice dark and quiet, words pressing against your skin like fingertips. “Whimpered it. Like I was the only thing in the world.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“Don’t,” you whisper, but it comes out thin, barely a sound. “It was just a dream.”

His mouth stills against your throat.

Then, with painful slowness, he lifts his head. His nose brushes up the side of your neck, your cheek, until his lips hover just over your ear.

“No,” he says, barely audible. “It wasn’t.”

You feel his lips turn up at the corners, and you brace yourself for the smug comment you know he'll deliver.

“That's what did it for you,” he murmurs, “That's all it took for you to come undone.”

“Jake–”

You barely get his name out before his mouth catches yours. It’s not gentle. Not rough either. It’s a claiming kind of kiss, slow and deep, like he’s tasting the sound of your voice. His hand slides up the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair, holding you still but not forcing– just there, anchoring.

He pulls back only enough for his breath to drag across your lips. His forehead presses to yours, eyes dark, watching you like he’s reading every flicker of your thoughts.

“I do, Y/n,” he says, low and steady.

His thumb strokes along your jaw. His mouth ghosts yours again, barely a touch, a threat of another kiss.

“I love you.”

It’s not a confession. Not a plea. Just a fact, dropped between you like a match on dry grass.

Jake doesn’t wait for you to respond. His lips crush against yours, no teasing this time, just pure, raw need. His hands slide under your shirt, pulling it off, dragging you with him as if he’s lost all patience, and something inside him snaps.

You gasp into his mouth as his skin presses against yours, warmth flooding you in a way that feels like too much, but not enough at the same time. His body pins you down in the best way– solid, commanding, a reminder of how little room there is between the two of you now.

He tastes you again, deeper this time, and you feel his restraint splintering. His breath comes in jagged pulls, and you know it’s not just about physical desire anymore. It’s the pull of something that’s been building between you, something fragile, something dangerous.

When his lips leave yours, it’s only to trail down your throat again, sucking in the pulse of your skin. You shiver.

“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice is rough against your collarbone, rough in a way that feels like he’s losing control of something he’s held tight to for far too long. “The way your body’s already answering me? The way you need me?”

You try to hold on, to stay grounded, but his hands are moving over you, fingertips tracing paths that burn where they touch. Your breath hitches, and you know he’s listening for it, feeling every inch of you unraveling beneath his touch.

“I’ve had to pretend… pretend this isn’t everything I’ve ever wanted,” he continues, his lips pressing against your chest as if he’s worshipping you, as if you’re the only thing that matters in the universe right now. His hand slides lower, just enough to make you tremble, and you gasp, eyes slamming shut. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. So badly I can't fucking stand it.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching as his mouth finds your skin again– hot, hungry, desperate. He groans against your throat like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing that’s ever tasted right.

“Jake…” It slips out, breathless, not a warning, more like surrender. Your hips arch before you even realize you’ve moved, chasing the friction, the heat, the ache he’s stoking with every touch.

He lifts his head, just barely, his lips flushed, eyes dark. “Say it again,” he breathes, voice low, wrecked. “Fuck, say my name like that.”

You don’t. Not yet. You just look at him, lips parted, chest rising and falling like you’re caught mid-thought. Because you are. Caught in this perfect, dangerous in-between where logic’s already fading, and want is the only thing still making sense.

Jake leans in again, his mouth hovering just over yours, not kissing you– taunting you.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip, slow and possessive. “I’ve thought about this. About you. Every damn night. The way you'd sound… the way you'd fall apart under me.”

You gasp when he shifts, hips pressing down with intent now– solid, hard, undeniable.

“You feel that?” he whispers, grinding just enough to make your legs tremble. “That’s what you do to me. Just by looking at me. Just by breathing.”

Your head falls back, lips parting on a soft moan. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips, dragging you against him in a rhythm that’s maddening. Every roll of his body sends fire skimming through your veins. You breathe a curse, earning a hum of approval from him. You rock your hips against his own, your eyes nearly rolling back.

You arch your back, your bare chest presing against his shirt. He's still fully dressed– his usual black dress pants hugging his thighs, a soft button up, half way opened and revealing most of his broad chest– making the contrast feel even more intimate, more urgent, as if he's claimed this space in your bed without shedding a single layer.

His hand cups your jaw gently but firmly, thumb tracing your lower lip as he tilts your head back, exposing the line of your throat. “That's my girl,” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, laced with that quiet command that makes your pulse race.

He leans in, lips brushing yours in a kiss that's tender at first this time, almost reverent, before it deepens– his tongue sliding in to taste you, slow and thorough, like he's mapping every secret you've kept.

You melt into it, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He explores your skin with deliberate touches– palms gliding over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts.

His gaze lingers at your chest once again, heated and owning, before he lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. He sucks gently at first, tongue swirling around the hardened bud, then firmer, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Your hips twitch upward, seeking friction against him, but he shifts his weight, pinning your thigh with his knee to keep you still.

“Easy, baby,” he breathes, lifting his eyes to meet yours, dark and intent. “I'm going to take my time with you. Make you feel every second of this.” His hand continues downward, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts, easing them down along with your panties in one smooth motion. He doesn't rush, savoring the reveal of your bare skin, the way your thighs part instinctively under his stare.

His jaw is tight, his eyes dark as he takes in the sight of you. You know the look– hunger, but mixed with something else. Reverence. An ache between the two of you that you'd both been fighting for too long.

He starts with his hand.

Well, a finger really. Ghosting just barely over your dripping heat, before both of his palms are smoothing over your inner thighs, opening you up further.

Your breath is already uneven, short staccato puffs of air as he settles with his face inches away from you.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and rough as his lips brush against the skin of your thigh.

“I am,” you argue, the words coming out weak.

He presses his cheek against your thigh, and smiles up at you, primal and alluring. He presses a kiss at the cleft of your thigh, centimeters away from where you were aching for him. He doesn't break eye contact– you know he won't.

So you do.

You let your head fall back against the pillow with a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You want him to get on with it, you lick into you until you're a crying, overstimulated mess, but if there's one thing you know about your beloved Jake, it's that he does what he wants, when he wants.

He nips at your skin, “Look at me.”

You shake your head, “I can't.”

“Y/n.”

“Jake, I can't–”

He's up before you can finish your sentence, his hand tangled into your hair and his nose brushing against yours, “Listen to me,” he says, his voice dropping– low and controlled, “I'm gonna lick into this sweet little cunt until you come– and then some,” he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, a sweet contraction to his words, “And you're going to watch every fucking second of it. Do you understand me?”

You hesitate, just a second– you don't know if you'll be able to watch that– before you nod, “Yes, Jake,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly against his.

He smiles, just barely, nudging his nose against yours, “That's a good girl,” he whispers, “Always so well behaved.”

You know the last sentence is a dig at you, but you let it slide, because he's settling back between your thighs and you're aching too much to really push him too far. You let your thighs fall open, just a little further, inviting him in.

You get the sense he'd be content just looking at you, taking in every detail, memorizing. You wouldn't be content with that– not with the ache nearly burning you from the inside out.

“Jake, please,” your voice is weak, shaky.

He leans in, sucking the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, nipping lightly at you. You're trembling already, shaking from the anticipation, near tears already.

“Sounds so pretty when you beg,” he murmurs, his hands spreading you open even further. You huff, though it comes out weaker than you intended. The glint in his eyes is almost evil, but before you can say anything else, his mouth is finally– finally– on you.

His tongue is flat, licking a single stripe up your slick heat.

It's a simple move, but you'd been anticipating it so long, it feels as if the universe finally exhaled. As if the single action was all he needed, he lets out a quiet curse against your skin, before tugging you closer to him and slipping his tongue along your core again.

Your breath catches in your lungs when he presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, teasing almost.

His mouth feels better than you imagined– warm, wet, attentive. You roll your hips lightly, grinding just barely against his mouth. His eyes light up, and his hands wrapped around your hips push at you, encouraging you to rock against him.

You have your hands tightened in your bedsheets, but when he wraps his lips around your clit, your hand immediately goes to his hair. When you realize what you've done, you go to move your hand, to apologize, unsure if he was into that, but he hums a low hm-mm against you.

He raises a hand to your wrist, encouraging you to pull or grab as you pleased. As if he wanted to know you were feeling so good you just couldn't help it. You let out a noise, your fingers flexing lightly, unsure how you were still managing to hold eye contact with him. He flicks his tongue over your clit, just once, and you feel your lower half clench around nothing.

He lets go of your hip, and before you can pout about it, his fingers are teasing at your soaked entrance.

His fingers ease into you gently, slowly. You know he's being kind, but it feels cruel. He pulls his mouth away from you with an almost inaudible fuck, his eyes locking in on where his fingers were.

“Look at that,” he breathes, most in awe. The corner of his slick-shined mouth tilts up, smug and enraptured by the sight in front of him.

Your chest is heaving now, your face hot, “Jake–” He leans back in, sucking your clit back into his mouth, and your words escape you in a breathy moan.

He eases his fingers in and out, as if he's trying his damnedest to be gentle with you. It makes your heart melt and your walls tighten, but you don't want gentle. You want him to ruin you. To make you wholly and completely his. To destroy everything you thought you knew until it was just him. His tongue is flicking at your clit, his lips suckling just enough to drive you wild.

He curls his fingers, once, twice, before it's as if he can't stand to be patient anymore.

With a low, impatient growl, he snaps, fucking his fingers into you with a quick force that makes your toes curl. His mouth is working at you in earnest, and your back arches away from the bed.

I was trying to be sweet, you hear his voice in your head, and you give him a heatless glare.

You'd forgotten you'd opened the door, let him in… He could see everything.

And how convenient– for him to be able to speak to you in your head, since his mouth was otherwise occupied.

You want it mean, don't you? Dirty girl.

You nod, your head falling back once more. You know he told you to look at him, to watch every second of it, but you couldn't. You were close, your body trembling, your hips rocking into him.

He lets it slide, and you think he's just as desperate for your orgasm as you are, as if he needs it as badly as you do. And maybe he does.

You breathe his name, a warning, as your body tightens.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers fucking into you, curling and twisting hard and fast, his mouth eating at you in earnest.

What ultimately sends you over the edge is his voice in your head, desperate and demanding, Fucking give it to me.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. You come with a gasp that quickly turns into a broken moan. White flashing behind your eyes before you see stars. Your entire body jerks, your thighs fighting to shut around him.

You can feel him smile against your skin as he tightens his hold on you, keeping you snug against him as he works you through it.

It verges too much, too intense, but it's just right. You come down slowly, your hand at his forehead weakly trying to push him back.

He slows down, showing mercy, although you can tell he doesn't want to. He moves his head, resting his cheek against your thigh, giving you just enough to recover as he withdraws his fingers from you. Or so you thought. He presses a kiss to your clit, humming when your thighs twitch and you whimper his name. His tongue slips out, licking over your sensitive bundle of nerves painfully slow.

“Fuck, that was so pretty,” he murmurs, leaving a wet kiss to your skin, “You look like a fucking dream when you come, baby.”

You let out a weak, strangled noise, almost embarrassed, as your eyes fall shut. From shame or exhaustion, you can't tell.

He lazily licks over you, his tongue pressing into your entrance teasingly, before he slowly runs it up to your clit, circling around it.

“Jake,” you whine, bucking your hips just barely.

“What?” He asks, patronizing, pretending to pity you, “Is it too much, sweet girl?”

You nod, despondent, and he angles his head, flattening his tongue against you, working it slowly.

“Liar,” he mutters against you, before he's drawing your clit back into his mouth.

Your moan is broken, tears beading along your lash line. It's too much, it's not enough. You know he's about to make you finish on his tongue again, and you don't know if you can take it.

You can, he says, smooth and low in your brain, You can take it.

Your second orgasm hits quicker than the first, your entire body is still sensitive, still worked up from him. He seems to be more merciful this time, easing up on you as you come down, working you through it gently.

He kisses at your inner thighs, your hips, your lower stomach, and then your breasts as he slowly makes his way back up to you.

You take deep breaths, your chest heaving as he climbs back over you. Your eyes open just as he settles over you, his face inches away, “Hi sweetheart,” he says gently, leaning in to peck a kiss onto your lips.

“Hi,” you breathe, reaching up with a shaky hand to push his hair back from his face. He looks fucking sinful.

His eyes are dark in the dim lighting, his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink hue, and his hair is messy from your hands. He looks like sin in the flesh, but even then– in his hungry gaze, he's still looking at you softly. So reverent, as if you're the most precious thing in the world.

Your hand, still resting in the bedsheets it had just been tangled in, moves slightly. You let your eyes trail down, past his flushed cheeks, past his necklaces brushing against your bare chest, to the button of his jeans. You look back up at his eyes, a question on the tip of your tongue.

You can't ask that.

He knows what you want.

He looks partially amused now, the hint of a smirk gracing his lips as he reaches for your hand. Your other hand tightens in his hair as he places the one right at the waistband of his pants, and he leans in until his lips are brushing against your heated skin.

You untangle your hand from his hair, both hands sliding to the button of his dress pants. You tug at them once, and turn your head until your lips are ghosting against his, “Take these off.”

His smile grows, fond almost, as he kisses you. You dont notice his hand over yours until he's using your fingers to pop the button.

You pull back, pressing your head into the pillow as you tilt it, eager to watch him be revealed to you.

You tug unceremoniously at his pants, and he lifts his hips just enough to help you yank them down. He grabs your hands in one hand, lifting them above your head and pressing them into the pillow.

You frown up at him, but he uses his other hand to pull his underwear down with his pants. Your mouth falls open when his cock, thick and long and pretty, is freed, bobbing up to rest hard and proud against his stomach.

“Fuck, Jake,” you breathe in awe, your entire body thrumming with excitement.

He huffs an almost shy laugh, his cheeks flushing red once again.

You glance up at his face, shock still clear on yours, before you look back down at his dick, “I want it.”

He hums, his jaw tightening, “I know, honey,” he leaves a sweet kiss to your cheek, “You'll have it.”

You almost wiggle impatiently, suddenly overcome with pure want. A desire to be filled and fucked until you couldn't move, until you were an exhausted, breathless mess underneath him.

You grab his face, yanking him to you in a heated kiss, whining into his mouth when his hands grab your hips and situate you to his liking.

You feel the blunt head of him pressing against you, hot and heavy, and you rock your hips.

He pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against your temple, and with a slow roll of his hips, he's pushing into you.

Your mouth falls open as he eases inside of you, slow and controlled. His hand falls to the pillow beside your head, gripping it so tightly, you're afraid it might tear open. Your walls pulse around him, fighting to accommodate the intrusion as he pushes in inch by inch.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out when he finally bottoms out.

“Don't,” he almost growls the word, pressing his nose into your hair just above your ear, “Don't ever say anybody else's name but mine while I'm inside you.”

You hadn't meant it like that, but– he sounds so possessive right now, his hand is grabbing the pillow so tightly his knuckles are white, and his other hand is holding onto your hip just as tight.

He inhales through his nose, slowly, slightly shaking, and you know he isn't shaking from nerves. He's trying not to lose control.

You breathe his name, placing a hand on his arm.

He hums a sound, running his nose along the tip of your ear.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly.

He groans quietly, nodding slowly. His tongue runs along the skin beneath your ear, before he kisses you there.

“Never been better,” he murmurs, as if distracted.

You turn your head to look at him, and the moment your eyes meet, it nearly undoes you. He’s staring like he’s starving– like every detail of your face is something he’s been aching for. His gaze drinks you in, slow and reverent, as if he can’t quite believe you’re real. There’s a wild, unhidden need in his eyes, the kind that makes your skin burn under the weight of it. He looks utterly possessed by you.

You glance down at his lips, needing a break from the intensity, but even that feels dangerous– like everything about him is too much, too close.

The corners of his mouth twitch into something close to a smile when you say, “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he says, his voice low, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “Like I need you so bad it's driving me insane?”

You sigh, and slide your hand up to cup his cheek, “You have me.”

Your words seem to break something inside of him, and before you can even process his lips crashing against yours, he's pulling his hips back just enough to begin fucking into you.

You gasp at the first thrust, his mouth swallowing down the sound. He feels good everywhere he's touching you, warm and almost overwhelming.

He lets go of the pillow, his hands grabbing your hips to move you just enough, and his arms slide around your waist. The hold feels protective, like he's worried you'll disappear any moment. His nails dig into the skin of your back just barely before his fingers flex.

He pushes into you completely, pausing for a moment, as if just to feel you squeezing around him. He pulls his face away from yours, tilting his head slightly as he watches himself fill you up.

“Fuck,” he breathes, before he draws back, achingly slow, only to push back in just as unhurried.

Every slow push and pull sends the head of his cock dragging against your walls, nudging that place inside of you that makes your toes curl. Your hand tightens in his hair when he angles just right, the tip pressing into it firmly.

You huff a breath, tightening around him, “Jake,” your voice is broken already, “Fuck me.”

He hums a low sound, pushing his hips flush to yours once again, “I am, baby,” he says softly.

You go to argue, to ask him to go faster, something, when his hip bone presses just right against your clit. A whimper stutters out of you, and you can't help but say his name again.

His eyes darken, a devious glint to them as he leans in closer to you again. “You want it mean, sweetheart?”

You nod, and he leans back, his arms slipping from around your waist. One hand grabs your thigh, pushing them further apart. He hooks the

back of your knee in the crook of his elbow, before he leans back in and wraps both hands around your throat.

He doesn't squeeze yet, but the position has you completely at his mercy. You're spread open, given no choice but to take it as he begins slamming into you.

Your eyes roll back when he hooks a thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, sucking as best as you can in the moment.

“That's it, baby,” he says, his voice tight with fraying control, “Fuckin’ take it.”

You hum a broken mm-hmm around his thumb, barely able to keep your eyes open to look at him.

You would've been moving up the bed with every thrust of his hips had he not been holding you in place, pushing you into the mattress.

He grits his teeth when you squeeze around him, his forehead falling to yours.

Your body is tightening again, building up to an orgasm you're almost afraid of having. He feels it, you know he does– physically and mentally.

He suddenly pulls out of you, letting go of your throat to push himself up, “Flip over,” he demands, giving you no time to attempt to before he grabs you and flips you around to his liking.

You're on your knees, one on either side of his, your back pressed to his chest. He wraps an arm around you, lifting you up just enough for him to slip back inside of you. He pushes you down on his cock, his other hand grabbing your waist.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, your head falling back against his shoulder. He presses his lips to your exposed throat, nearly growling as he bites down on the tender skin. He begins fucking into you with reckless abandon, hard and fast and wild. You can barely focus on the slamming of your headboard against the wall, your brain overtaken with Jake.

Your nails dig into his thighs, the muscles tensing beneath the material of his pants as he fucks you.

Your walls squeeze around him, and you can feel your slick dripping against your thighs, against his. You're almost embarrassed, knowing you're making a mess on his dress pants.

“No, no,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, “Make a mess, honey, all over me.”

You let out a sound at that, and before you can object to it, his hand at your waist slips down, and he's rubbing tight circles over your clit.

“Oh, my– Jake–” You try to fall forward, but his arm around your upper half holds you in place.

“Come on,” he urges, “Give it to me, baby,” he sounds demanding, desperate and wild, “Make a mess all over me– right on my cock, angel.”

You're almost there, your orgasm just a few more thrusts, a few more swirls of his fingers away, when he decides to play dirty.

“What do you need?” He asks teasingly, brushing his lips against your ear, “Need me to tell you I love you?”

Your eyes snap open, “Jake–”

“I love you,” he grits out, his voice full of conviction, “I love you, I love you.”

You hate how fast your orgasm takes over at that. You finish with a loud, spent sob of his name, your body going almost limp as he holds you up, working you through it with deft fingers and expert thrusts of his hips.

Your vision goes blurry, your entire body coursing with waves of pleasure that verge on overstimulated.

Your hand, shaking and weak, finds his wrist, and you try to grab it. He eases his fingers up, slowing to a standstill as he gives you a moment to breathe.

“Yeah,” he says on a fucked out breath, “That's what you needed, isn't it?”

“Fuck you,” you say without any heat.

He hums a laugh, moving his hand away to smooth his palm over your skin, calming your trembling body.

“Where do you want it?” He asks softly, rocking his hips just enough to keep you from fully recovering.

“Inside,” you breathe, wiggling your ass against him, “Please.”

“Yeah?” He asks, fucking up just a little harder, “You want me to come inside?” You nod, your eyes rolling shut as you feel yourself tightening around him again, “You want me to make that pretty little pussy all mine? Claim it as my own?”

“It's yours,” you say weakly, “It's yours, Jake, just– Please.”

He hums then, “I think you're about to come again,” he says almost teasingly.

You nod, “I am– Fuck–” his fingers dance over you clit again, just barely, before you're coming again, and you gasp out your next words as it hits you, “Fuck, I love you.” He lets out a broken sound at that, and with a single thrust of his hips, you can feel his release filling you. Painting your walls with his warmth, as you quietly repeat your confession like a broken chant.

He comes to a standstill, his hips unmoving inside of you, and his fingers frozen over your clit. His chest is heaving against your back, and he stays quiet for a moment as his forehead rests against your shoulder.

He finally lifts his head, and his hand ghosts along your cheek, “Baby,” he says, breathless.

You hum, feeling like you're about to collapse. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up just enough for him to slip out of you. You whine petulantly, before he eases you onto the mattress. You feel boneless as he lays you down, situating you into a much more comfortable position to recover in.

You let your eyes fall shut as you lay there, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths. You can feel him watching you, as if he's ensuring you're okay.

You open your eyes, turning your head just enough to look up at him, and a smile works its way onto your lips.

His own lips turn up at the corners, soft and beguiled. “Hi sweetheart,” he says again.

“Hi Jake,” you say softly.

“Was it too much?” He asks sweetly, moving to lay down beside you. He says on his side, propping his head up on his hand as he watches you.

“No,” you assure him, turning to him to pull him closer to you, “It was– Fuck, that was perfect, Jake.”

He allows you to move him closer to you, and he presses a single kiss to your lips, “Tell me you love me again,” he says, his voice a whisper.

You grin, your heart wanting to explode out of your chest, “I love you Jake.”

Jake’s eyes soften instantly, going wide with something tender and almost reverent, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His gaze, slow and unblinking, filled with quiet awe and that deep, aching kind of love. Devotion, raw and full, like you’d said the one thing he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.

You tilt your head, “Let me in.”

He nods, his face unmoving from that damned lovestruck expression that made your heart ache, “Okay honey.”

You expect a door, and you find one, but it's wide open. You study his face, ensuring that it's okay with him.

“You can look, baby,” he says softly. “I want you to.”

You knew you shouldn’t go back.

He told you not to.

The last time you touched Jake’s mind, he felt it. And he warned you.

“I can shut you in a lot easier than you can read me.”

You almost listened.

But here you are again, standing in the storm-swallowed space that is Jake’s mind. It’s quieter this time. Not calm– never calm– but less violent, less volatile. Almost… still.

You move through it carefully, like your steps might wake something ancient and hungry. The shadows press close but don’t touch you. You don’t know if that means you’re welcome or simply tolerated.

You don’t plan to stay long.

Just… curious.

You keep telling yourself that.

But then you feel it.

A pulse.

Familiar. Warm, strangely. You follow it without meaning to, and before you realize what you're doing, you're in it– his thoughts, his emotions, thick and raw and close.

And you feel your name echo through them.

Not spoken. Felt.

A flash of your face, your voice, the way your lips part when you’re about to argue with him. A memory of you standing too close. A scene– real or imagined, you don’t know– of his fingers curled in your shirt, dragging you against him.

The hunger is sharp, yes.

But it’s not just that.

There’s softness under it. Something protective. Something warm. Something Jake would never admit.

Your breath catches.

And that’s when it happens.

Everything goes still.

Like the whole mind holds its breath.

And then his voice, I told you what I’d do.

Your heart stops.

You spin, but he’s not there– not physically. Just pressure. Rage. Embarrassment, too. Not just because you saw, but because you felt something back.

You try to pull away, to retreat–

Too late.

The walls close in.

Jake’s mind seizes around yours, slamming you into place like a trap snapping shut. Panic floods you instantly.

“Jake– no– wait, please!”

You’re caged in his thoughts, and this time he doesn’t let go.

Not for seconds.

Not for minutes.

Time stretches painfully long.

“Jake,” you whisper, “Please.”

When you’re finally released, it's like being kicked out of a dream mid-scream.

You crash back into your body with a gasp, heart pounding like you’ve run a mile uphill through fire. You don’t know how long you lie there, breathing, shaking.

But then–

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

You flinch at the fury in his voice but meet his eyes anyway. “I didn’t mean to see that, I–”

“Oh, that,” he snaps. “Right. That little part where you found out I’ve been thinking about pinning you against every surface we’ve ever argued near? That?”

You flush hot, rage blooming under the embarrassment. “It wasn’t like I went digging for it! I didn’t even know I’d landed in that thought!”

“But you did,” he growls. “And then you lingered.”

Your hands curl into fists. “You think I wanted to feel that? Do you know what it’s like, hearing your mind whisper things about me like– like that?! Like I’m some kind of–”

He steps closer, fast.

“Like what? Like someone I want?”

You stop breathing.

He’s close now, too close, eyes narrowed. The heat of him rolls off his body, fury and shame and something else underneath. That same dark want you felt in his thoughts.

“You don’t get to judge me for wanting you,” he says low. “Not when you keep climbing into my head to feel it.”

“I wasn’t–” Your voice falters. “I wasn’t trying to–”

“But you stayed,” he says. “You stayed until I caught you.”

Silence. Heavy. Scalding.

You stare at each other, neither moving, like you’re both one wrong word away from starting a fire you can’t put out.

Then, finally, you breathe, “I didn’t think you’d ever think of me like that.”

His jaw flexes. His voice is quiet now. Rough, “You shouldn’t want me to.”

You nod.

The silence between you thickens, like it’s alive. He’s still standing there, watching you, his gaze unwavering, that smoldering, unreadable look in his eyes making your heart pound harder.

But you don’t say anything else. You can’t. There’s nothing left to say. So you turn on your heel and walk away.

You move toward your room, each step heavier than the last. The air feels thick with the weight of him– the taste of his thoughts still lingering in your mind, sharp and soft at the same time. You can’t escape it. You’re trying to shut it out, but it clings.

The door to your room shuts behind you with a quiet thud, and suddenly, you’re alone.

Alone, but not really.

You lean against the door, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in deep. His words echo in your head: You shouldn’t want me to. You want to laugh. You want to scream. You want to slap the confusion out of your mind.

But you know the truth.

You’ve felt it too.

You couldn’t help it when you saw what was in his mind, what he wanted from you. That sharp hunger, wrapped in that softness that doesn’t quite match the demon inside him. It doesn’t make sense, but you feel it– deep in your chest, running through your veins. A part of you doesn’t want to admit it. But you can’t stop it.

You slide down the door, sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest, staring into the emptiness of the room.

And you think about him.

You think about the way his body fills a space. How his eyes, glowing faintly, track you when you’re near. The strength in his hands. The way his fingers curled at your shirt, how he’d dragged you toward him without a single word, his breath hot on your skin as if he knew what he was going to do next.

The memory of him, standing so close, but still unreachable, makes your skin flush.

God, why does this feel so… right?

You can feel the heat of his thoughts again, rising like a tide, not angry now, but something darker. The way he looked at you, the way his mouth curved, almost like he wanted you to see that part of him, the soft part tangled with everything raw and fierce.

You’re not stupid. You know what it is. You know what he’s thinking. You can’t pretend you don’t. And now, you can’t stop thinking about him either.

What does it mean?

You tell yourself you don’t care, that it’s just lust– just complicated, that’s all. That’s all it is.

But your heart beats faster in your chest, and your thoughts twist again, remembering the heat in his touch, how it lingered when he grabbed your wrist that one time, the low sound of his voice close to your ear, the way he just barely touched you and yet made you feel like he could break you with a whisper.

A shudder runs through you.

You bite your lip, hands suddenly restless.

This isn’t just about him being a demon. It’s more than that. You’re in deeper now, and you can’t pretend anymore.

The thought of him fills your mind, undeniable. The way his eyes could devour you. The way his body pressed against yours in that moment, the dark, dangerous side of him, the part he hides so carefully.

And you want it. You want him.

And it scares you.

—

You wake up with a headache and the bitter taste of last night still clinging to your tongue.

For a moment, you think maybe you dreamt it. Him, the mind trap, the way your heart wouldn’t stop racing after you saw what he really thought about you. But then you hear it.

Footsteps.

Someone in the kitchen.

You sit up slowly, every part of you on edge. Your body’s still humming from yesterday, like your skin hasn’t forgotten the feel of him even if you’re trying to.

You pad quietly down the hall, heart already annoyed and anxious and something you’re not ready to name. You turn the corner, and there he is.

Jake.

In your kitchen.

Still here.

Still impossibly him.

He’s leaning against the counter, sleeves pushed up, black shirt creased from sleep– or not sleeping at all. He doesn’t look at you when you walk in. Just sips from the mug in his hand and says, flatly, “Coffee’s terrible.”

You glare at him. “Don’t drink it then.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t. Just said it’s terrible.”

“Then shut up and drink your terrible coffee.”

His eyes flick toward you, finally. That same lazy, irritated spark dancing just behind them. “Morning to you, too.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the fridge. “Why are you still here?”

“I stayed.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s not an answer.”

Jake doesn’t move. Just lifts the mug again, sips. “Didn’t feel like leaving.”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Because my house is so welcoming.”

He glances at you then. His voice drops, just slightly. “You didn’t ask me to go.”

You hate that he’s right. But you’re not going to say it. Not out loud.

So instead, you mutter, “Didn’t think I needed to.”

He gives you a tight smile. “Guess I missed the sign on the door that says ‘no demons after midnight.’ ”

You shoot back, “Guess I missed the part where I invited you to set up camp in my kitchen like you own the place.”

Jake puts the mug down with a clink. “Wouldn’t have to if you stayed out of my head like I told you.”

There it is.

You both freeze.

The memory hangs between you like smoke– thick, suffocating, full of heat.

You glance away first. “I didn’t go back on purpose.”

He scoffs. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” you snap. “I didn’t plan to go poking around in your brain, Jake.” Liar.

He doesn’t answer for a second. Then, voice low, “You lingered.”

You go still.

The silence stretches again.

Finally, you say, “You locked me in.”

“I warned you.”

You look at him– tired, angry, confused. “I didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

He looks back at you– tired, angry, something else. “Yeah, well. Now you do.”

Neither of you says anything after that.

The coffee cools on the counter. The air between you stays tight and strange. Too many thoughts. Too much silence. Neither of you willing to take the first step, but neither of you walking away either.

Eventually, you say, too quietly, “You’re not going to stay here forever.”

He doesn’t answer you right away. You turn to walk away, thinking that’s the end of it. But then his voice cuts through the silence behind you– low, tight, and bitter, “Relax. I don’t want to be stuck with you any more than you want to be stuck with me.”

You stop.

The words hit like cold water, even if you were thinking the same thing. Even if you’ve said the same thing before. Still, something about hearing it from him, now, after last night…

You don’t turn around. You just say, “Good,” and walk out.

—

Back in your room, the walls feel smaller than they did yesterday. The ache in your chest twists tighter, stubborn and stupid. You hate this– this weird emotional hangover, this heat under your skin every time you look at him now.

You drag the old book onto your lap and start flipping through pages again. Half of it’s written in symbols you can barely translate, but you’ve been digging at this bond for weeks– looking for loopholes, rituals, anything that might get you out of it.

You’re not sure why you ever stopped.

Maybe part of you got too used to him being around. Maybe part of you stopped wanting to get out. But now?

You tear through the pages, and something catches your eye. Scribbled in the margins, nearly hidden: a reference to a severance ritual. Not just a suppression or block– an actual unbinding.

Your heart jumps. You scan it twice. Three times.

It’s not complete, and it’s messy, but it’s something. Real. Possible. A way out.

You burst into the hallway, book in hand, practically glowing with adrenaline. “Jake.”

He’s still in the kitchen, hunched over the counter, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the universe.

You hold the book up. “I found something. A ritual. A real one. I think it could undo the bond.”

He glances at you, unimpressed. “I've heard that before.”

“No,” you insist, crossing the room, flipping the book around so he can see. “Not like this. This is different– it’s not suppression or containment, it’s a full severance. It’s ancient, but it’s legit. We might actually be able to end this.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at the page. Just watches you.

You expect him to be relieved. Or at least interested. But instead, his expression darkens.

“You might be able to,” he says flatly. “It’s not guaranteed.”

You blink. “I know it’s not guaranteed, but it’s worth trying. Isn’t it?”

He straightens slowly, eyes unreadable. “Sure. Try it. Burn a circle, light some candles, chant the words, whatever you think’ll work.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re not even curious?”

He shrugs. “We don’t know what it’ll do. You sever a bond like this wrong, it could kill both of us. Or worse.”

You falter. “I thought you’d want this.”

“Yeah, well.” His jaw tightens. “Maybe I don’t like the idea of dying just to get you out of my head.”

Your stomach drops. The excitement drains like water through your hands.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it,” you mutter.

Jake’s eyes flick to yours. Something sharp flickers there, too fast to name, “You came in here acting like you’d found a golden ticket,” he says. “But you don’t know what this will do. You just saw a chance to run and got excited.”

You snap the book shut. “So what, you'd rather just stay bonded forever?”

“I don’t know.” His voice is quiet now. “Maybe I don’t want to rip something out of me that’s been there long enough to start feeling like part of the whole.”

You freeze.

That silence returns– not empty, but heavy. Like the two of you are teetering on the edge of something again, and neither of you wants to fall first.

When you speak, your voice is smaller. “Jake…”

He looks away.

“Just... think about it,” you say. “Please.”

Then you leave the room again, book still pressed to your chest.

Neither of you says anything else.

But neither of you stops thinking about it, either.

—

You find the note buried deep in the margins, nearly lost under layers of old ink and dust.

“The severance ritual is detailed fully in the grimoire used to summon the entity. A bond born can be unmade. The origin holds the key.”

Your pulse skips.

The book.

Still hidden in the ruins of that decaying house where you first read from its pages, where Jake was dragged into your world.

You should’ve burned it then. You didn’t.

And now it might be your way out.

You don’t tell Jake.

Not after this morning. Not after what he said. Not after the way his voice cracked like he regretted saying any of it.

You wait until the house is quiet, the lights off, the night thick and breathless. You slip out through the back, flashlight clutched in one hand, the other curled tightly around the book that led you here.

The abandoned house greets you like a mouth full of teeth– dark, half-collapsed, walls sagging under the weight of time and rot.

You step inside anyway.

The air stinks of mold and something fouler underneath. The boards creak with every step, and dust shivers loose from the ceiling.

You make your way to the back room– the study. With the dusty, rotting desk and cobwebbed corners.

It hasn’t changed.

You kneel near the old desk, heart pounding as you reach behind it where you stuffed the grimoire after the summoning. But your hand finds nothing.Your chest tightens.

Slowly, you stand, turning.

He’s there.

Half-hidden in the shadows, leaning against the doorway, only the edge of his face lit by moonlight filtering through broken glass. His eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them– cold, sharp, and burning just underneath.

Jake.

Holding the book.

“Looking for this?” he says, voice quiet. Too quiet.

You don’t answer right away.

His fingers tighten around the spine of the grimoire like he already knows what you were planning to do with it.

“How long have you been following me?” you ask, not even trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

“I didn’t follow you,” he says, stepping further into the room. The floor groans beneath his boots. “I knew you’d come here. I just got here first.”

“You were watching me?”

“I was waiting,” he snaps, then reins it back in– shoulders tense, jaw locked. “Waiting to see how far you’d go.”

“I’m trying to end this, Jake. Isn’t that what you want?”

“You think this is about what I want?” His laugh is hollow. Harsh. “You think I give a shit what I want anymore?”

He moves toward you slowly, deliberately, each step like a fuse inching toward flame.

You’re trembling now, but you don’t back away. “That book might be the only thing that can break the bond–”

“Exactly,” he cuts in. “Which is why it needs to be destroyed.”

Your breath catches. “Don’t.”

“I warned you,” Jake says, voice like gravel. “When you first pulled me into this world– I told you there were rules. You didn’t listen then, and you’re still not listening now.”

“Jake, please–”

He doesn't even look at you.

Just snaps his fingers.

The flame bursts upward instantly– unnatural, hungry. The grimoire screams as it burns in his hand, pages blackening, curling in on themselves, old ink bleeding out in smoky tendrils. You lunge forward, but the heat hits like a wall, forcing you back.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you shout.

He finally looks at you– not angry anymore, but furious. Controlled. Contained. That kind of rage that simmers so deep it’s almost calm.

“I’m making sure you don’t do something you'll regret.”

You freeze. Something in your chest pulls taut– raw, painful. “You think this is easy for me?” you say, voice shaking. “You think I want this?”

“No,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “I think you’re scared. And I think you’d rather risk anything than admit what this has become.”

The fire crackles behind him, throwing long shadows across his face, making him look less man, more monster. Or maybe both.

You take a step back.

He doesn’t follow. Just watches. And says, quieter now, “There’s no undoing it. Not anymore.”

Then he turns his back and walks into the dark hallway.

You stay standing in the ruins of the circle, the ashes of the book still glowing faintly, like something inside you is dying right along with it.

And maybe it is.

—

You spin toward the still-glowing ashes of the grimoire, jaw clenched so tight it aches. The heat from the fire’s gone, but the fury in your chest only builds– sharp, hot, helpless.

You throw the flashlight across the room.

It shatters against the wall with a satisfying crack, but it doesn’t help. Not enough.

“You– son of a bitch!” you shout into the empty space. “You think you can just decide for me? Burn the one thing that gave me a choice?! What the hell gives you the right?!”

No answer.

Of course not.

You storm into the hallway, vision blurring with angry tears. “You think I wanted any of this? You think I asked to be tied to you? To feel your rage in my veins– your thoughts crawling under my skin?”

Jake stands at the far end of the corridor, arms folded, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting.

Calm.

Still.

Watching you unravel like it’s the weather– inevitable. Predictable.

That just makes it worse.

“Say something, damn it!” you snap.

But he doesn’t. He just looks at you. His silence is unbearable.

You stalk toward him, furious, chest heaving. “You ruined my only shot at ending this. And now you just stand there like it doesn’t mean anything to you?!”

Still nothing.

That calm, maddening stillness in his eyes. Controlled. Measured. Like he’s already heard every version of this before and none of it surprises him.

You shove him hard.

He doesn’t flinch.

You hit his chest again, fists curling into his shirt. “Do something! Scream back, curse me out, anything!”

Jake just stares down at you. His voice is low, steady.

“I’m not going to fight you.”

“Why not?!” you demand.

“Because you’re not angry at me,” he says. “You’re angry that it’s not over. And that you don’t really want it to be.”

You freeze. The air goes still. You hate him for saying it. You hate him more because he’s right.

The ache in your chest twists. You try to step back, but his hand lifts– not grabbing, just hovering near your waist, like he’s offering without forcing.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s you, maybe it’s him.

But the space between you closes all at once– fast and hot and reckless. Your mouths crash together like the argument never ended, like every word you didn’t say is burning its way out through the kiss.

His hands are in your hair, at your waist, pulling you closer like he’s been holding himself back for weeks. And you let him. You grab the front of his shirt, anchor yourself there like if you let go, you’ll fall through the floor.

You hate him. You want him. You can’t breathe with how much you want him.

When you finally break apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, neither of you says anything.

There’s nothing left to say.

Just the sound of your breathing.

The hum of the bond still alive between you.

And the quiet, terrible knowing that after this…

There’s no undoing it.

Your lips are still touching when the reality of it hits you.

What just happened. What it means. What you’re already starting to feel.

You shove him– hard.

Jake stumbles back half a step, breath still uneven, eyes burning with everything you don’t want to name– want, guilt, something deeper.

“Fuck you,” you breathe.

It doesn’t come out loud. It comes out shaken, choked. Your voice cracks in the middle of it, like your whole chest is splintering.

Jake doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. He just stands there, still catching his breath, lips parted, hands slack at his sides.

You don’t wait.

You turn on your heel and storm down the hallway, your boots slamming against the warped floorboards like you’re trying to shake the feeling of him out of your bones.

Your heart’s pounding too hard. Your mouth still tastes like him. You don’t know if you want to scream or throw up or run until your lungs collapse.

But you know one thing.

You had a choice– and he took it.

He let you kiss him. He kissed you back like he meant it. Like he’d been waiting for it. Like he was sure. And you can’t be sure of anything.

So you leave.

—

You don’t remember the walk home.

Not really.

Your body moves on autopilot, but your mind... your mind is a war zone. Loud. Smoking. Nothing left standing.

It’s not the kiss you can’t stop thinking about.

It’s what came after. What didn’t come after.

He didn’t chase you. He didn’t call out. He just let you leave.

And somehow, that hurts more than anything.

But then, maybe that’s good. Maybe that’s important. Because for the first time in a long time, you see it.

You’re not helpless.

You could’ve gone all in. Could’ve let him crack you open, hollow you out, shape you into some twisted version of the girl he thinks you are.

You could’ve let him drag you down into whatever shadows he’s drowning in.

But you didn’t.

You said no– even if it came out in a whisper, even if it came out broken.

And you left.

You left.

When you get home, the place is dark. Quiet. The kind of quiet that hums in your teeth, too loud to be silence.

You don’t bother with lights. You drop your bag by the door, kick off your boots like they’re too heavy to carry another second, and fall onto your bed fully clothed.

Staring up at the ceiling, you finally let the thoughts come.

What if you don’t let him ruin you? What if it’s not about resisting him– or surrendering to him– but about changing the entire story? What if you could turn him good?

Not like some tragic savior fantasy, not like fixing a broken thing just to prove you’re worthy–

But what if the power he has over you is real, and the power you have over him is just as strong? He thinks you’re like him. But what if you’re not? What if he’s like you– and he’s just never had someone who believed it? You close your eyes. It doesn’t feel like a plan, not yet. But it feels like a beginning.

The knock at the door is too casual. Lazy, like whoever’s on the other side already knows they’re going to be let in.

You barely glance up from your seat on the couch. Jake, on the other hand, freezes.

He doesn’t curse, but you can feel it– see it in the slight shift in his shoulders, the flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

“Don’t answer that,” he mutters.

“Okay,” you say slowly, setting your mug down. “Should I be worried?”

“No.” He’s already moving toward the door.

He yanks it open, and there he is. Tall, dressed in a slick black coat like he stepped out of a dream and meant to make it a nightmare. His eyes are silver, unsettling and cold, and his grin is lazy, hungry.

“Jake,” the man says smoothly. “Still knocking around the mortal realm? I thought you’d have grown bored of these little games by now.”

Jake doesn’t smile. “What do you want?”

He steps inside like he owns the place, eyes sliding immediately to you. He takes his time looking– really looking– and it makes your skin crawl. Not in the same way Jake does. Jake’s presence is dangerous but alive. His is colder. Distant. Like he’s already imagining how your bones will look when the light leaves your eyes.

“So this is her,” He says, tilting his head. “The soul bound to you? Huh. Pretty little thing.” He eyes you again, this time more focused. “Still… bright.”

Jake’s jaw ticks. “She doesn’t know what you mean,” he says tightly.

“Oh, but you do.” The man’s grin widens. “I can feel it from here. Untouched. Unspoiled. That soul of hers is practically glowing. Doesn’t it ache, being that close to something so pure?”

You’re standing now. You don’t remember deciding to. The bond is buzzing under your skin– hot, agitated, electric.

Jake moves subtly, stepping just enough in front of you to block the intruder’s view. His voice is low now. Dangerous. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

The man raises both hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m just admiring. You never told me you got this close to something still… savable.” He chuckles, voice like ice cracking. “No wonder they’re watching you. Hell hates a redemption arc.”

Jake’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

“That’s enough.”

He looks past Jake, back to you. His stare makes you want to scrub your skin raw.

“She has no idea, does she?” he muses, almost to himself. “How rare it is. What you’re tethered to. How much it hurts you.”

Jake doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to. The air around him shifts– thickening, darkening. A warning.

The man smiles one last time, like he’s made his point.

“Enjoy your little experiment, brother. Just don’t forget what side you’re on.”

And with that, he vanishes– just smoke and cold air and something heavy left in the room.

You look at Jake, pulse hammering.

“Jake… what the hell was that?”

But he’s already pacing, hands on his hips, eyes glowing like fire behind storm clouds. “He’s no one,” he snaps. “Don’t think about him.”

You're still staring at the spot where that other demon vanished, your skin buzzing like you stood too close to a lightning strike. The room feels smaller now. Heavy with words left unsaid, things half-heard and barely explained. Jake hasn’t moved in over a minute, which for him, is basically a crisis.

You grab your bag off the counter. “I’m going to the library.”

Jake’s head snaps toward you. “What?”

“I need space,” you say, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “Time to think. That guy just showed up talking about my soul like I’m some glowing antique on a shelf. And you’re not exactly big on clear answers.”

“I told you–” he starts.

“No,” you cut in. “You told me just enough to keep me scared and obedient. And I’m sick of feeling like I’m drowning in questions I’m not allowed to ask.”

The room falls silent. Jake’s jaw tightens. You know that look. It’s not rage, not quite– but it’s something close. A storm waiting to break.

“You’re not going out there alone,” he says finally, voice low.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“You’re vulnerable,” he says, stepping closer. “You’re tethered to me. Which means any bored demon or soul-sniffer within fifty miles can sense you now. You leave this apartment, you’re painting a target on your back.”

“I’m not yours,” you snap.

Jake’s expression flickers– just for a second. A flash of something wild and unsettled. But he covers it quickly, smoothing his features into a blank, unreadable stare.

“You’re bound to me,” he says evenly. “That’s not something you can just walk away from. Not even for an afternoon.”

“I’m not walking away,” you say, softer now. “I just need to think. Without you breathing down my neck, without… all of this.” You gesture vaguely to the room, to him, to the thread humming under your skin that connects the two of you. “Just a few hours. That’s all.”

Jake doesn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly, “You think I’m the one clouding your head.”

“I know you are.”

A pause. Then his voice drops lower, rougher. “You have no idea what’s out there.”

You look him dead in the eyes. “I'm going.”

—

The library smells like old paper and dust– like secrets. You’ve always liked it here, but today, the stacks feel heavier, as if every shelf is watching you.

You slide into one of the deeper rows, your laptop and a pile of borrowed books spread out in front of you. Most are on folklore, demonology, and obscure theology. Half of them are written in languages you can barely pronounce.

You start with the simplest thing: soul contracts. The word burns on the page. You read about binding rites, the “exchange of essence,” how intent can be as powerful as signature. One line catches your eye.

“When the bond is mutual, both souls exert force upon one another. Corruption and redemption are two sides of the same coin. It is not always the demon who consumes.”

You sit back, heart hammering. Redemption. The one word Jake hasn’t said.

You keep digging. A 17th-century text mentions “counter-rites,” rituals that strengthen one side of the bond. Another scroll from an online archive suggests that original grimoires contain the “true terms,” hidden from both parties unless deciphered by hand.

And then you find it: a digital scan of a woodcut illustration. A circle of symbols that looks exactly like the one in that abandoned house. Except this one’s labeled.

Your breath catches. It’s the same script– the same ink– but not exactly. This copy includes a second layer of glyphs you’ve never seen before, like a hidden translation under the main contract.

You lean closer to the screen, your pulse pounding. It’s not enough to read, but it’s enough to know one thing for sure– the book you found that night wasn’t some random occult knockoff. It was an original.

And if it’s an original, then it’s not finished with you yet.

Jake told you the bond ends if you “change.” But the lore says otherwise. If you can find the book again– the one you traced from– you might be able to read the whole contract. All the terms. All the loopholes.

The deeper you dig, the stranger the texts become. Half the pages you’ve pulled from the library’s archives aren’t even supposed to be in circulation– brittle, yellowed manuscripts covered in cramped handwriting.

You’re scanning one now, your finger tracing the faded ink. It’s a commentary on “reciprocal soul-binding.” Most of it you’ve already read before, about mutual influence, temptation, the inevitable change. But then, buried halfway down the page, there’s a line that freezes you:

“If the mortal’s essence be untainted, the demon may yet be redeemed, for such a soul may cleanse as well as corrupt. But beware: to redeem is to bind the self deeper still.”

You stare at the words until they blur. Redeem. Cleanse.

That’s why Jake never told you. He wasn’t lying when he said the contract ends if you change. He just… left out the part where it also ends if he changes.

Your heart beats harder. Because suddenly you’re not just a mark he’s supposed to corrupt. You’re also a threat to him– a possibility he’s spent who knows how long making sure you never realize.

You lean back in your chair, pressing your palms to your eyes. Two options form in your mind like a split in the road:

You could find the book– track down the original grimoire, decipher it, and end the contract cleanly. No more Jake. No more bond. You’d be free.

Or… you could try. You could reach for him, push back at the darkness creeping in around his edges, and see if what’s left of him can be turned toward the light. Redeemed. Freed. Saved.

Except that last line keeps echoing: to redeem is to bind the self deeper still. If you try to change him and fail, you risk being dragged down with him– and if you succeed, who knows what the bond will become.

For the first time since you started reading, you feel your hands shake.

Jake is a demon. Dangerous. Manipulative. And yet you’ve seen something flicker in his eyes when he thinks you’re not looking. A shadow of regret. A moment of hesitation. Something almost human.

You shut the book softly, the sound like a decision you’re not ready to make.

Do you risk losing yourself trying to save him? Or do you cut and run while you still can?

Either way, time is running out. And sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose.

—

The texts are getting older, harder to read. Entire pages are in dead dialects. But then, in a cracked leather folio written in jagged black script, you find a section you’ve never seen referenced anywhere else: “The Quieting of the Bond.” Your eyes skim the lines, heart thudding:

“The tether between souls is a channel both ways. In the mortal lies a hidden capacity — to close the channel, to veil thought and intention. Few know this art, and fewer still survive it, for the demon will sense the silence and may lash to reestablish the link.”

You sit back, a sharp breath escaping you. A way to block him. A way to think without him inside your head. You keep reading.

“The mortal must call upon their own essence, not external magic. It is a willful act of separation. Imagine a veil, a wall, a locked door. Hold it firm. Each time it is torn down, rebuild it stronger.”

You press a trembling hand to your chest where the bond hums faintly, hot and restless. The idea of privacy– of thinking without him hearing the echo– feels like breathing after being underwater.

But the warning is clear– he’ll know. The moment you do it, he’ll feel the gap. He’ll know you’re hiding something.

You close the book softly, glancing around the empty library.

You could practice here. Try now. But part of you wants to wait until you’re alone. Part of you wants to be ready before he senses the silence.

You exhale slowly, palms flat on the table. For the first time since he appeared, you’re holding something he doesn’t know you know.

It’s dangerous.

The bond flickers under your skin like it senses you thinking too loud.

You look down at the script again, whispering under your breath, “A veil. A locked door.”

And for just a heartbeat– a single flicker– the bond goes quiet.

You almost smile.

Then the hum surges back, stronger than before, like it’s angry.

You slam the book shut.

He’ll feel that.

—

Your bedroom door is shut, the curtains drawn. The hum of the bond under your skin feels louder tonight, like it knows what you’re about to do.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, the cracked folio open in your lap. The page on “The Quieting of the Bond” stares back at you, its jagged script like a dare.

A veil. A locked door.

You close your eyes and draw in a slow, steady breath. You picture the bond not as a thread but as a door– heavy, iron-bound, set deep in stone. You imagine it shutting, slowly, the sound echoing behind your ribs.

For a second, nothing happens. The hum of the bond stays steady, like a low heartbeat.

Then, very faintly, it fades.

You gasp. It’s like a sudden pressure lifting off your skull, like someone unplugged the constant static you didn’t realize you’d gotten used to. The silence is warm and strange– a little dizzying.

You exhale, focusing harder. Lock the door. Reinforce it. Imagine it sealed.

It holds.

For the first time since Jake appeared in your life, your head feels empty. Yours.

You almost laugh with relief.

And then you feel it: a ripple. Not from you– from him. The bond throbs once, like a knock on the door you just shut.

You freeze.

Somewhere in the apartment, there’s a low sound. A voice.

“Y/n.”

You open your eyes. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he’s been there a while, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He doesn’t look angry, he looks… intrigued.

“What are you doing?” Jake asks softly.

You swallow hard, snapping the book shut. “Nothing.”

His smile is slow, sharp, and not entirely kind. “You’re trying to shut me out.”

“I’m not–”

He steps closer, the floor creaking under his boots. “I can feel it. The silence. Like someone slammed a door in my head.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s not supposed to be possible.”

You press your hands to the book in your lap, heart racing. “Then maybe you should’ve told me the truth.”

Jake stops at the edge of the bed. He’s not angry, not exactly. But there’s a tension in him, something coiled and dangerous.

“You’re playing with something you don’t understand, sweetheart,” he says quietly. His voice softens, almost a whisper now.

But there’s something in his eyes– something he’s not saying. A flicker of… hurt?

You clutch the book tighter, torn between defiance and guilt.

The bond hums faintly, like it’s waiting for your choice. The silence stretches between you.

Jake stands at the edge of your bed, dark eyes fixed on you with that same unreadable calm that always feels like a coin toss– is he restraining himself, or watching you test how far he’ll let you go?

“You’re not supposed to know how to do that,” he says, voice low.

“I’m not supposed to know a lot of things, apparently,” you murmur, the book still warm beneath your hands. “But I’m learning.”

Jake’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t argue.

You look at him, the way the light flickers across his face, the sharp lines of someone sculpted in something older than stone. There’s something softer in his expression now. Not quite regret… but close. A weight he’s been carrying since the moment he stepped through the veil into your world.

“Why does it bother you so much?” you ask quietly. “That I want my thoughts to myself?”

He doesn’t answer right away. When he finally does, his voice is rough around the edges. “Because I’ve never been locked out before.” His eyes meet yours, steady. “And I hate it.”

Your pulse kicks up. “So what? You get full access to my head forever? That’s the deal?”

“No,” he says, after a pause. “That’s not the deal. But I didn’t think you’d want to shut me out. Not now.”

You look down at the book again, then back up. “You mean after all the lies? After all the half-truths and cryptic warnings?”

Jake’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t defend himself this time.

You sit up straighter, spine stiff with decision. “I need space, Jake. Real space. Not just from your body, but from your voice in my head. From your… presence.”

He steps back a half pace, barely visible, but you feel it. The bond flickers.

Then, slowly, you close your eyes again.

A veil. A locked door.

You call on that stillness inside you, the part that is just yours. No magic. No sigils. Just will. A slow, deliberate push. You picture the door slamming shut– harder this time. You feel the thread between you recoil.

The hum of the bond cuts off like a cord yanked from a wall. Silence– real silence.

You open your eyes.

Jake’s face has changed.

He’s staring at you like you just pulled a blade from your chest and pointed it at him.

His voice, when he speaks, is sharp with something unfamiliar– vulnerability disguised as warning, “Don’t do that again.”

You meet his eyes. “Or what?”

For a moment, you expect heat– anger, fire, the full demon. But instead… there’s just hurt.

Brief. Flickering. Gone too fast.

Jake exhales slowly, hands dropping to his sides. “You think that book makes you powerful,” he says. “But power means nothing if you don’t know what it costs.”

You don’t flinch.

“I guess we’ll find out,” you say softly.

He lingers for a moment longer, like he wants to say something else– then turns and walks out of the room, the bond between you still silent.

You’re alone. For the first time since the night he appeared.

And yet, somehow, you’ve never felt him more.

—

The apartment feels unnaturally quiet without the constant hum of the bond pressing at the back of your mind. You didn’t realize how used to it you’d become until it was gone– now it’s like a noise-cancelling field wrapped around you, and for the first time since he appeared, your thoughts are yours.

Jake hasn’t come back into the room since last night. You don’t know if he’s sulking, plotting, or just giving you the space you demanded. But the air feels heavy, like a storm building somewhere out of sight.

You spread the cracked folio out across your kitchen table again. The section on “Quieting the Bond” is there, marked in the margin by your own shaky handwriting. But today, you turn the page.

A new heading stares back at you in that jagged black script:

“The Mirror of the Tether.”

You read quickly, your heart thudding harder with every line.

“When the mortal masters the art of veiling thought, the bond may be inverted. The channel opened one way becomes a channel opened both ways. The demon’s mind may be glimpsed as the mortal’s once was– their secrets, their fears, their essence laid bare. But beware: looking too long may draw the mortal further into the demon’s nature, for minds entwined are not easily untangled.”

Your fingers tighten on the edge of the page. Not only can you block him– you can listen back.

For a moment, you just sit there, staring at the words. The implications. The danger.

Jake’s spent weeks shadowing you, whispering into your head, trying to push you toward a fall. He’s hidden things, lied by omission, left you in the dark.

And now, you’re holding a key to his inner world. His secrets. His weakness.

You press a hand over your chest where the bond usually hums, feeling only silence now.

You could try it. Reach across the tether instead of shutting it. Peek inside his head. Hear what he thinks about you. About the contract. About everything.

But the warning on the page glows in your mind: looking too long may draw the mortal further into the demon’s nature.

You shut the book softly, staring at it like it might bite.

It’s power. It's a risk. It’s a chance to finally know the truth.

And it’s sitting right there in front of you.

—

You wait until the apartment is silent. No footsteps. No flickers of darkened eyes in the shadows. Jake hasn’t been around since last night, and for once, the absence is a relief.

You sit on the floor beside the coffee table, the ancient folio open across your lap again. The section on The Mirror of the Tether stares back at you, as if daring you to try. You take a breath.

The bond is still quiet.

But now you reach for it– not to close it, but to listen.

You picture the tether in your mind like a bridge, running both ways. For so long, Jake used it to watch you, whisper to you, pull you closer to him.

Now, you try to reverse it. One step across. Then another.

You whisper the words under your breath, shaping the bond like a mirror instead of a leash. You expect resistance– cold, fire, pain– but instead, it gives.

And suddenly–

you’re not alone.

A rush of sensation hits you, not your own: heat, static, a flash of sharp memory– someone screaming. Someone begging. Chains. Fire. A voice saying his name like it was never meant to be spoken in kindness.

And beneath all of it, pulsing like a heartbeat– Your name. Repeated. Over and over again.

Y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n.

Then, a voice– his voice– but not out loud.

Tell me she didn't try it.

And then– “Y/n.”

You flinch violently.

Jake’s voice cuts through the bond like a blade. Not distant. Not mental. Behind you.

You spin.

He’s there, standing just a few feet away, expression unreadable. You don’t know how long he’s been watching, but the book is still open in your lap, and your hand is still stretched over it like a guilty child caught with something they shouldn’t have touched.

He doesn’t speak at first. He just stares. His eyes are brighter than usual, not glowing, exactly, but alive. Like the tether between you has reawakened and he felt everything.

“You reached into my mind,” he says at last, voice low, slow, too calm.

You open your mouth. “I just–”

“Don’t lie,” Jake cuts in, still not loud. That’s what makes it worse. “You looked.”

You shut the book with a hard snap and stand, heart pounding. “You’ve been in my head since the moment you appeared. You don’t get to act betrayed.”

He steps closer. “I didn’t dig. I didn’t go searching for things I wasn’t ready to see.”

“No,” you snap, “you just stood there watching and let me think you controlled everything. Let me think I was powerless–”

His eyes flash. “You think power is about reading minds? About who’s holding the book?” His voice drops. “You don’t want to see what’s inside me, Y/n. Trust me. You don’t.”

You stare at him, chest heaving. “Too late.”

Silence falls. The bond between you buzzes now, reconnected, alive again, but changed. You’re not just connected. You’ve seen each other now, even just a glimpse. And nothing is going to be the same.

Jake exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re playing with fire,” he mutters.

The apartment feels too small for the two of you now. The air crackles between you like static before a storm, the tether humming under your skin again, hotter, sharper than before. You can still feel scraps of what you saw inside him– fire, chains, your name echoing like a wound– and it makes your stomach turn.

Jake doesn’t move right away. He just watches you, hands loose at his sides, but his eyes… his eyes are burning. Not glowing like before. Burning.

Finally, he speaks. His voice is quiet, but the quiet is worse than a shout, “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m learning fast.”

He takes one slow step closer. “Fast enough to break things you don’t understand.” He tilts his head slightly. “You think you can slip into my head, peek around, and then slam the door on me like I’m some cheap trick?” You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off with a low, humorless laugh. “I let you,” he says. “That little peek? That wasn’t you winning. That was me letting you scratch the surface.”

Your throat tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Jake says, stepping closer still, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “that I can shut you in a lot easier than you can read me. I can close the door, seal the bridge, and leave you screaming into an empty void. You’d never know what was real. You’d never feel me there again.”

The words land like a physical weight. You swallow hard, trying not to flinch. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he says, but his eyes glint. “That’s a fact.”

He stops just short of you, close enough for the bond to buzz at the edge of your senses. “You’re smart, Y/N. Smarter than most. But stop thinking that book makes you equal to me. You’re not.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. “Maybe not. But you’re scared enough to come here the second I tried.”

Something flickers across his face– frustration, yes, but also something softer, an ache he’s trying to bury. His voice drops another octave, rougher now. “You have no idea what’s hunting you because of me. And if you shut me out before you’re ready…” He leans in, so close his breath brushes your ear. “…they won’t even have to try.”

For a heartbeat, no one moves. The bond thrums like a living thing between you.

Then Jake straightens, the dangerous edge retreating just enough to let the calm slide back into place. “Think before you play games you can’t win,” he murmurs, and turns toward the door.

But as he moves away, you realize something: for all his threats, he hasn’t shut you out yet. Not completely. You can still feel him there. Watching.

—

You wait until he’s gone.

The moment the front door clicks shut, the apartment feels bigger again, still heavy, but not suffocating. You sit at the kitchen table with the old folio spread out before you, his words echoing in your head.

I can shut you in a lot easier than you can read me.

You grit your teeth and turn the pages. Somewhere in here is a way to tilt the scales back. Somewhere in here is the part of the game he hasn’t told you about.

And then you see it– a section so faint you almost miss it, scrawled sideways in the margins of a chapter about The Mirror of the Tether:

“The Hidden Path: The mortal may walk unseen within the demon’s thought. Not as a shout, but as a whisper. Entering with silence, not force. In this way, the mortal may observe without awakening the other. This requires perfect calm and intention, for a single stray thought may alert the bound one to the intrusion.”

You lean closer, scanning faster:

“This art is not without peril. The demon’s mind is vast and alien. To drift too far is to lose one’s self; to linger too long is to invite the tether to reverse.”

Your fingers tighten on the edge of the page. This is it. Not just mirroring, not just blasting the connection open– but slipping through it like smoke. Quiet, invisible. Your heart hammers as you read on, memorizing the instructions:

– Anchor yourself first.

– Empty your thoughts.

– Become a shadow.

– Listen, but do not speak.

– Return the way you came.

You close your eyes, breathing out slowly. The bond is still there, humming faintly, but now you know how to treat it differently. Not as a door to slam open, but as a keyhole.

If you do it right, he won’t feel a thing. If you do it wrong…

You glance at the door, half-expecting him to already be standing there. He’s not. You draw the book closer. The words burn in your mind: walk unseen within the demon’s thought.

You whisper them to yourself, feeling the weight of the choice settle in. This isn’t just power anymore. This is a weapon.