I'm going to die historic

She’d freaked out the first time. 

But now? After who knows how long of them having this weird relationship? Zoey wakes up incredibly warm with a weight draped over her feet that’s so familiar it’s comforting, and it’s somehow the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, the rare occasions where she doesn’t wake up to Mystery in her bed, she’s found she feels a little off all morning, like she didn’t get enough sleep, or she missed out on her morning skincare, or something. 

So Zoey wakes up and the first thing she does is smile, even though she’s a little sweaty as the combination of summer heat and demon body temperature prove too much for her. Still, worth it though, as she wiggles her toes until the lump at the foot of her bed grumbles and shifts.

“Good morning, Saja Boy.” She chirps at him, as if he’ll say anything back to her. 

True to form, he responds, but without words, uncurling from his own slumber and pressing his cheek to her shin in a quick nuzzle. 

The first few times he’d done that, Zoey had launched either him or herself off the bed, face flushed bright red and heartbeat unable to calm down for minutes afterwards. All of her training, both as a hunter and as an idol, had never prepared her for a gorgeous - if slightly inhuman - man nuzzling her in her own bed, okay?

But now, familiar with their little morning routine as she is, she simply lets out a soft giggle, reaching down and beckoning him towards her. He’s always happy to oblige, behaving so well when it’s just the two of them alone, and he leans into her hands as easy as anything, permitting her to squeeze his cheeks and brush his ever persistent bangs back from his forehead.

Gosh, his face really is perfect. Symmetrical, sharp features, and those intense, golden eyes… Zoey can’t get enough of it. Every time she feels entranced, feels herself leaning in, just a little bit, but deep, deep inside of her.

Every time she sees his eyes, he’s looking at her as if there’s nothing else in the world that matters. Not in the sappy kind of way that Jinu and Rumi look at each other, but more like a cat that’s locked onto something it finds interesting.

Like a predator right before they pounce.

The moment draws out between them, and Zoey thinks that this time, this time for sure, something is going to happen with that unbearable tension between them. Maybe she’ll lean in, or maybe he’ll push beyond her gentle touch, and-

His bangs slip through Zoey’s fingers as her mind wanders, and with a small shake of her head, she breaks free of the spell. She can feel the telltale heat of a flush on her cheeks, and she covers it by hauling herself unceremoniously out of bed.

And if she notices that Mystery chases her touch when she drops her hand, that’s between her and the dozen plushies littered around her room.

“Come on, might as well get the day started, hm? Early bird gets the worm and all that, or I guess in this case it’s early hunter gets the choreography practice, but still, no time like the present.” Zoey chatters. Mystery always lets her chatter, and she doesn’t think it’s just that he can’t or won’t speak to stop her, because his attention is always focused on her while she’s talking, and sometimes he even nods along at the right points.

Right now he’s not nodding, she can feel he’s still staring at her with that predatory energy. It sends a shiver down her spine, not unlike the thrill she gets when hunting demons, but far more enjoyable. It used to make her uneasy, but now… Well, it’s hard to feel uncomfortable when he insists on following her around like a guard dog.

It’s cute. 

Despite his staring, Mystery follows her out of bed, and she rewards him with a pat on the head that she has to reach up to administer. She might worry about it being patronizing, but he never seems to mind. Indeed, he stoops down a little so she can perfectly pat the crown of his head, rather than his forehead.

“Good good. Do you guys have practice today?” Zoey asks as she opens the door to her room, stepping into the hall.

Unfortunately her attention was far too focused on seeing if Mystery nodded or shook his head, and she runs directly into Romance. Because of course, one Saja Boy isn’t enough in their apartment. At least he’s not quite as annoying as Abby, but still, she’s a little off balance from colliding with him, and he takes full advantage to turn that into a romantic dip, living up to his name.

“Hey-!” Zoey starts, ready to scold him heavily and maybe punch him a little, even though given what she’s seen of him and Mira interacting, she’s pretty sure he would like that. But she never even gets to the bulk of her lecture, because one second she’s in Romance’s arms, and the next she’s slammed into the far wall.

Once her brain catches up to the rapid change in position, she clues into what happened. Or, rather, she clues into the fact that Mystery is currently trying to tear Romance’s throat out. 

With his teeth.

Barely holding him at bay, hands wrapped around wrists that now sport claws so long they ought to be called talons, Romance tries to play it suave, sounding a little desperate but managing a smile and a laugh nonetheless.

“Mystery, my friend, I didn’t mean anything by it.” He attempts to soothe Mystery’s attack, sliding backwards along the far wall from Zoey in order to keep away from gnashing teeth. When that doesn’t work, he looks to Zoey in a panic, “Right, Zoey? Tell him it was just a joke.”

Zoey goes to speak, but the words jam in her throat as tusks sprout from Mystery’s mouth, and he whips his head to the side in an attempt to gore Romance with them. He dodges, but just barely, and it’s clear he won’t be able to keep this up long. He lets out a very unromantic squeak, eyes wide with fear, and Zoey slaps her own cheeks. Just because she had been deep in domestic bliss, it's no excuse for her poor reaction time, and she centers herself with a smooth breath, calling on her hunter training.

Between one heartbeat and the next, she takes aim, and with dead accuracy, sprays Mystery in the back of the neck with her spray bottle.

It makes him pause for a scant second, but that’s all she needs to get her words back in order.

“Hey! Down, boy!” Okay, maybe it’s a little rude to order him like a dog, but he does respond, stepping back from Romance.

His teeth are still bared, tusks on display, and he’s growling deep in his chest, but Romance’s beautiful face is safe for another day.

…probably.

“Mystery?” Zoey calls out, softly, and he backs up another step towards her. But he’s still hunched over and puffed up, clearly interposing himself in between her and Romance to protect her, which is sweet and also so unnecessary. As if she’d need protecting in the first place and also… Romance? Seriously?

Sensing she’s not going to be able to get his tusks away while the perceived threat is still in front of him, Zoey looks over to Romance, who holds his hands palms out next to his head in the most clear display of surrender ever.

“Hey, maybe you clear out, huh? I’ll take care of this.” She reaches out slowly, placing a hand on Mystery’s back. She can feel him trembling with the tension in his body, testament to how much he’s holding himself back because she asked him to.

“A better idea I’ve never heard. Good luck!” Romance runs backwards, slipping out of the hallway without ever turning his back.

“Let the girls know I might be late, please!” She thinks to call after him, getting a quick thumbs up. She hopes Mystery will calm down quickly now that Romance is out of sight, but if he doesn’t, she doesn’t want to risk Rumi or Mira coming to get her for practice and needing to kill him again if he attacks one of them.

She’d do it, but it would be sad.

“Hey, Mystery, he’s gone. It’s all good, I’m safe, and- Woah!” Once again, Zoey finds herself moved far too quickly for her mind to keep track of, and she’s summarily picked up, rushed back into her room, and bundled under her blankets, tucked away safe and sound before the door even has time to slam shut behind them.

“Ohh, you’re so lucky I don’t get motion sick, mister, or that would be a real bad move. As is, we should probably talk about the whole “picking me up and moving me thing”, because it’s fine right now but if this is gonna be a whole thing we’re going to need some boundaries.” Zoey wrinkles her nose, trying to worm out from the blankets, but as soon as she makes any headway, Mystery is in front of her, rumbling deep in his chest and tucking her in even tighter.

Eventually, she gives up with a heavy sigh, pouting and resigning herself to her new life as a blanket turtle. This, evidently, is exactly what Mystery wanted, as he disappears from her view. She would turn her head to follow him, except of course he’s wrapped a blanket around her head too, leaving her only a narrow field of vision and very little mobility.

But where he’s gone to is only a mystery for a moment, as nearly as soon as she loses track of him Zoey feels the bed behind her dip, his familiar weight wrapping around her. She can see his knees tuck up on either side of her, arms encircling her chest, all completed with a solid pressure of the top of her head that she can only assume is his chin. They’re oriented facing the door, and his rumbling growl surrounds Zoey, vibrating through the core of her being.

It’s all very ridiculous, and maybe ought to be concerning, but Zoey can’t help but feel… safe.

Protected.

She’s always the one doing the protecting, and okay, maybe she doesn’t need anyone to do it for her, and she definitely didn’t need it in this silly little situation, but is it so wrong for her to enjoy it?

Zoey lets out another sigh, this one much smaller, relaxing back into Mystery’s embrace, and she swears his noise changes pitch to something closer to a purr.

“You’re going to have to let me out at some point, you know.” Zoey huffs, not actually upset, but also not really wanting to encourage him locking her up in her own room.

In her own blankets.

She feels Mystery shake his head no, and she can’t help the laugh that draws from her, unable to truly scold him this time.

“Yes you will. I need to eat, and bathe, and perform. You know Mira will only let me be late to practice so many times, right?”

His purr switches back to a growl, clearly unhappy with the idea.

“I don’t know what to tell you, maybe you didn’t think this one through, hm? Maybe we save the biting and kidnapping for real threats, not our own groupmates being dummies, hmmmm?” Zoey tilts her chin up as much as she can to direct the accusations directly at him, and Mystery huffs, lifting his chin from her head and releasing her from his grip very, very slowly.

When he finally unwraps his limbs from around her, he comes back in front of her once more, and though she can’t see his eyes, she can feel him staring directly into her soul. His tusks are still out, but honestly, Zoey finds them kind of neat. There are plenty of pretty boys out there, but how many of them have tusks?

Only her personal little Saja Boy.

“There he is. You were just worried about me, yeah?” Zoey can feel when he drops his gaze, head tilting down, and it’s as clear a shameful admission of guilt as anything.

“It’s okay. I’m sure Romance has already forgotten about it. And you can make it up to me by unbundling me here.” Zoey nods down at the blankets, which are in fact wrapped far too tightly for her to do anything about it.

Looking as chagrined as a non verbal demon with a mostly hidden face can look, Mystery begins to slowly loosen her blanket cocoon. Once she has her hands free, Zoey assists him, and in an impressively long amount of time, she is freed. Even more sweaty than she was when she’d woken up seemingly a lifetime ago, but free nonetheless.

Mystery whines a little, slinking away from her, and Zoey instinctively makes soothing little hushing noises at him.

“No, no, it’s really okay, come here. You didn’t hurt me or Romance, we’ve just gotta… Well, we’ve found some new stuff to work on, and that’s okay.” Zoey attempts to soothe him, beckoning him back towards her, but Mystery shakes his head and remains out of reach. Brow furrowed, she asks, “What, is that not what’s got you down?”

A nod, and Zoey is confused. This would all be a lot easier if Mystery could just, you know, talk to her, but if he’s not there yet, he’s not there yet, and that’s fine with her. They could play 20 questions every day, if he wants.

“Can you help me understand what’s wrong?” Zoey asks softly, and Mystery curls in on himself for a long moment where she stays very still and quiet. Whatever internal conflict he has resolves in due time, and he eventually looks up at her again, before tilting his head back and opening his mouth.

Zoey isn’t sure what he’s trying to show her, all she sees are his fangs and tusks and-

“Ohhh, are you worried about your teeth?” She waits for Mystery to close his mouth and nod, and she laughs lightly, “They’ll go back in time, silly, it’s okay. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with them, in fact I think they’re pretty cool-”

She might have said more, but as soon as she says they’re cool, Zoey finds herself with a complete and total lack of personal space, Mystery crowded right up into her face. It’s startling, but it doesn’t scare her, in fact Zoey simply laughs again, raising her hands to cup his cheeks. He’s like an overeager dog, truly, bark and bite included.

“Yes, very cool, thank you, Mystery,” Zoey praises him lightly, brushing her thumbs to the corner of his mouth, just shy of touching his tusks. She wants to go that little bit further, to feel them, to trace his fangs with her fingertips and see if he tastes like damnation. She knows she shouldn't, but…

Zoey glances over at the clock on her dresser. She’s already late to practice. What the hell, why not?

Not wanting to spook him, and also giving him every opportunity to back away, Zoey lets her touch stray ever closer. Her pointer fingers trace along the underside of his little tusks and Mystery’s mouth opens slightly, scorching breath slipping between his lips. She can feel him tremble as she caresses the points, dull enough that she’s at no risk of slipping and cutting herself. But she knows that’s not the case for all his teeth, and she needs to know exactly how sharp the rest of his fangs are.

Mystery’s hands grip her shoulders tight enough that she’s definitely going to bruise as Zoey presses his upper lip back with her thumbs, looking much more intimately at his fangs than she ever thought she would.

“Wow.” The word is a soft hymn from her lips, unbidden awe as she begins to trace his sharper fangs, feeling the slight prick of their points. Mystery makes a strangled noise deep in his throat, and as Zoey is fully enraptured with her exploration, his tongue lolls forward, much longer and more dextrous than she expected, wrapping around her fingers as if to hold her there.

“Well that’s different.” Zoey should be more shocked, but all she feels is a thrill of discovery, heat crawling through her veins as Mystery’s tongue laves up to her wrist, encircling it.

Definitely not human, but the more Zoey interacts with him, the less she’s convinced she cares.

Mystery makes another little noise, and she belatedly remembers how sweaty she had been, pulling her hand away from his tongue in a rush, “Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot about how gross I got, that was probably pretty nasty and salty, huh?”

But Mystery doesn’t give Zoey any room for self consciousness or doubt, his grip remaining iron on her shoulders, leaning in and dragging his tongue from her collarbone to her temple in one smooth stroke that leaves her brain short circuiting.

“I- uh- okay.” Her fumbled words are breathy and shaky, just this side of moans as Mystery repeats the actions on the other side, purring the whole while.

Whatever Zoey’s personal views of hygiene, it’s clear Mystery does not share them.

She can’t find it in her to care, though, because everywhere his tongue touches is a brand just shy of burning, the tips of his teeth dragging over her skin every once in a while and setting her breath catching in her throat. He seems to fixate on that little noise, repeating his actions again and again just to draw more noises from her, all the while pressing her slowly back into the bed until he’s looming over her. 

“Nn, Mystery,” she interrupts his sweet torment of her neck with a palm on his cheek, guiding his face up to hover in front of hers, “I want-”

What she wants, she never gets to verbalize, because Mystery descends on her open mouth like it’s his to claim. At first, it’s his scorching lips against hers, tusks pressed into her cheeks, and Zoey gasps. It’s funny how it feels intimate, vulnerable in a way, even though his tusks are clearly weapons, but it's something no one else gets to touch, not like this. She can’t help herself, moving her lips along his until she reaches one of them, sliding her tongue out to taste it.

Mystery’s reaction is immediate and primal. One hand curls around the back of her neck, lifting so he can press her head back and angle it just how he wants. And how he wants is however works best for him to prise her lips open and slide that impossibly long tongue between them.

Zoey makes a startled little noise, but Mystery only growls and works his tongue further into her mouth, writhing past teeth to the back of her throat. It’s overwhelming, dangerous, and Zoey’s mind threatens to go blank, hands flying to Mystery’s shoulders just to have something to desperately hold onto.

It’s like having lava poured down her throat, and she can feel their combined saliva dripping down her chin, but she can’t help it. Zoey manages a choked moan around the length within her mouth, arousal rushing through her as Mystery responds to her approval by tongue fucking further down her throat than she ever thought possible. She can’t breathe, can’t think, all she can do is hold on and be fully and totally used in whatever way he deems fit.

Just when Zoey thinks she might genuinely pass out from Mystery’s attentions, he pulls back, and she immediately misses the feeling of him in her throat, whining at the loss. He purrs, licking the spittle from her chin, and then over her cheeks, where she realizes she’s probably been crying.

Good tears, though, very good tears, as Zoey tries to chase his tongue and bait him back into her mouth again.

But Mystery is hellbent on his mission of cleaning her face. Instead, he thrusts two fingers into Zoey’s mouth, which under any other circumstances would be unbelievably rude. Right now, however, she moans in satisfaction, running her tongue between the digits as his talons scrape the back of her throat.

She’s glad she’s not Rumi, needing to keep her voice angelic, and she can be a little rougher for her raps, because she’s pretty sure this is going to have an impact.

She can’t bring herself to care, however, whimpering gently as Mystery’s fingers thrust shallowly in her mouth. He growls against her skin, deep and satisfied, tongue curling sweet, slick fire down her neck as his mouth slips lower. Every inch of her skin is alive, begging for his touch, and Zoey only realizes she’s arching desperately against him when Mystery pins her back down to the bed with a hand in the middle of her chest.

“‘lease,” Zoey begs, garbled around the digits in her mouth, and she’s rewarded with the scrape of fangs over her jaw, not with any pressure to truly bite, but just enough to send a thrill racing through her to her core.

Pinned in place as she is, Zoey is helpless to Mystery’s attentions, unable to do anything beyond making soft, pleading noises of pleasure as his mouth traces down her neck, sensitive and vital. It would be easy, so easy, for him to sink his teeth in and rid the world of one of their few defenders. A part of Zoey’s mind races with alarm at that, but ultimately it fades as his breath scalds her skin, drawing her further and further into oblivion.

It’s there that Mystery pauses, resting against the junction of her neck and shoulder, tongue tucked away. It takes Zoey a moment to realize he’s stopped moving, frozen open mouthed against her skin, and she squirms a little to get his attention. In response, she gets an almost pained groan, drawing a curious noise from her in response.

She could throw him off if she really tried, she’s sure, but she absolutely doesn’t want to. She just wants to know what’s up, why he’s stopped in his delightful torment, why tension is bleeding back into his frame, much as it did when he was holding himself back from attacking Romance.

She doesn’t think he would hurt her, but… 

She makes another inquiring noise, and Mystery lets out a shaky breath against her neck. She feels him shift a little, lips dragging against her skin, and beneath them, the scrape of teeth. Firmer than on her neck, but still not biting.

Tentative.

A question.

A question with only one answer, in Zoey’s mind, and one that would drive Celine absolutely batty.

Sliding her hand up from his shoulder, Zoey runs her fingers through Mystery’s silky hair, tugging him firmly into her shoulder. Asking him without words, granting him permission.

He resists for a moment, a scattered heartbeat in Zoey’s chest, and then she feels his lips pull back from his teeth, fangs sinking into her skin.

Zoey’s whole body lights up like a live wire, arching as she gasps sharply against the pain. His teeth don’t break the skin, testament to his restraint, but they’re still fangs digging deep enough into her flesh that she can feel the bases of his tusk making their own marks in her skin. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything other than cling onto him for dear life, clawing at his back as her grip on his hair turns cruel, which only seems to spur him on. 

He makes another of those feral noises with her flesh between his teeth, and then as sudden as he’d latched on, he releases her, pulling his fingers from her mouth at the same time. His tongue soothes over the bite mark, unnatural heat a perfect balm that quickly swings her body from intense pain to the deep thrum of pleasure, and Zoey has zero shame over the blissed out noises she’s making, cracking in her abused throat.

As Zoey’s grip on reality returns to her slightly, Mystery pushes forward, rubbing the corner of his jaw along her neck, over and over again above where he just left his mark. Like a cat scenting their territory, and despite it all, Zoey finds herself giggling.

“You like me that much, huh?” She ruffles his hair, and Mystery stills, tucking his nose behind her ear as a shudder rolls through him.

As he stays there, tucked against her shoulder, Mystery’s hands trail over Zoey’s ribs, slipping underneath her shirt to run over her bare skin. She hums lightly, idly playing with Mystery’s hair until he shifts to kiss his way down to the hollow between her collarbones.

The sounds of tearing fabric fills the room, and Zoey looks down in shock to see Mystery discarding what was once her second favourite pyjama top with careless disregard.

“You-! Okay, that’s definitely something we’re going to have to talk about.” Zoey huffs, but if Mystery heard her at all, he shows no signs of caring in the slightest.

Instead, he leans even further down, that wicked tongue curling around the underside of one of her breasts as he takes a nipple into his mouth. Biting back a moan, Zoey relegates the “don’t destroy my clothing” conversation to a later thing.

One of his hands covers her other breast, claws dragging over the skin and yeah, okay, definitely a later thing.

“Oh, Mystery,” Zoey sighs, pressing up into his touch as tongue, teeth and talons lavish attention on every inch of her chest. He rumbles against her, biting the side of one tit hard enough to leave a mark, drawing a sharp gasp from her.

“Hey-!” She starts to protest, but he’s already soothing the mark, even as his talons dig into her ribs, dragging marks of their own to bloom across her skin. She can’t help it, even the pain feels good, breath catching in her throat as he marks her again and again.

Every bite, every claw mark is tended to by the sweet heat of his mouth, but thanks to his tongue’s dexterity, Mystery never has to pause in painting her chest with the evidence of his time there. His grip on her is possessive, taking hold of her body like it belongs to him, thumbs tweaking over her nipples as his mouth trends downwards.

Lower and lower, until he pauses on her belly, tension and desire coiling tight within Zoey. He raises his chin, and she knows he’s looking up at her beneath his bangs, but she needs to see. His hair is like silk between her fingers as she pushes it back from his forehead, revealing his perfect features, even more jaw dropping in their beauty when transformed by his demonic nature. Sharp jawline, dangerous cheekbones, the tusks and fangs that started this all, and all of it surmounted by dangerous gold.

Those eyes.

Beautiful, entrancing, looking at her as if it’s his right to do so; as if it’s all he ever cares to do. 

She swears she feels his growl in her soul, echoing within the core makeup of her very being, and then Mystery drops his gaze, lowering his face to lick a hot stripe over her stomach, just above the waistband of her shorts. His tongue skates along the edge of the elastic before creeping just below the edge, and Zoey’s head falls back with a hitched breath.

Zoey hears the ripping of fabric that means her shorts have met the same tragic fate as her top, and she’s really going to have to talk to him about not destroying her clothes. Nevermind that it’s hot.

Unbelievably hot.

Well, she supposes as long as he doesn’t damage any of their costumes, it’s okay. She can just bully the girls into shopping with her more regularly.

Thoughts of shopping are quickly banished from her mind as she feels heat at the core of her, leaching through the thin fabric of her underwear. She pushes herself up on her elbows, looking down to see Mystery between her legs and-

Wow.

That really is a sight, beautiful demon nestled there as if it’s his home, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out as his hands run up her thighs, curling around to rest next to where she wants him the most. It’s his breath she can feel, panted desperately against her, and Zoey runs her fingers into his hair once more.

“Are you gonna-” Is all Zoey manages to get out before Mystery shakes free of his reverie, tongue rushing forward to press over her core.

A small cry leaves her throat unbidden, and Zoey finds herself twisting her grip to cling to his hair, which only spurs Mystery on. Her underwear is quickly soaked through, and she doesn’t know who’s more to blame, her own arousal, or Mystery’s slick tongue that never stops moving, caressing and teasing even as he shifts his jaw, catching one tusk under the edge of the last remaining scrap of fabric on her body.

When Mystery twists his neck, tearing the offending garment from her body, Zoey isn’t surprised in the slightest given his track record for the day. However, tearing it from her body with his teeth, it’s so impossibly sexy that Zoe feels herself clenching with a hot flood of arousal.

She wonders if he’ll pause again, like he has done before biting her and after shredding her shorts.

She doesn’t have to wonder very long.

Mystery wastes no time now that she’s bare to him, and his tongue is a burning brand of pleasure as it drags through the center of her, on and on and inhumanly on. Zoe’s breath stutters in her chest at the seemingly unending slide of slick pressure over her clit, her thighs attempting to squeeze shut at the sudden stimulation.

But Mystery growls, digging his talons into the meat of her thighs and prying her open, allowing himself to press further in, devouring every drop of her arousal as if it is his sole sustenance. The pinpricks of pain from his grip are grounding, mixing with the pleasure in an intoxicating medley.

Without warning, Zoey feels his tongue enter her, spearing into the deepest parts of her. Onward and onward, curling and writhing, filling her to brim and then some. She gasps, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes at the sensation of being so massively filled, and by something dextrous enough to flex and curl and press against every part of her that makes her twitch and moan.

Mystery seems to take great delight in finding each and every one of her sweet spots, stimulating them simultaneously as if he’s being paid to do so. Unerring, determined, his tongue moves within her, until finally she can feel his lips meet her heated flesh, tusks pressing a dangerous promise into sensitive skin. A broken sob echoes out of her, so full that she can’t even really tell if it feels good, it’s just so much, but she is still holding tight to his hair, trapping him in place between her thighs, so…

Without ever stilling his stimulation within her, Mystery pulls his tongue back just a little, just enough to slide the thick base of it up over her clit, and Zoey jerks, back arching off the bed with a moan. He repeats it, and Zoey knows she won’t last long like that. Trembling within his grip, stuffed full of him as he tortures every single point of pleasure with slick, firm heat… Her climax is an inevitability.

She comes within moments, drawing deep, pleased noises from Mystery, who devours her pleasure with ruthless disregard to her aftershocks, drawing her orgasm out until Zoey is whining and tugging at his hair.

“Please, Mystery, enough-”

He only backs off enough to look up at her through his mussed bangs, and Zoe’s heart skips a beat at the naked hunger within his gaze. She’s sure it’s matched within her own, even as she attempts to dislodge him from between her thighs.

“I want you, come on.” She practically begs, desperate to have him within her, to be filled by something other than his tongue, magical as it is.

Her words break through to him, even though he seemed perfectly content to live his life down there, and Zoey moans as his tongue slides out from her. He pushes back onto his knees, hands going to the hem of his shirt, and Zoe can’t help herself, pressing forward to meet his lips in a kiss once more. She tastes herself on his lips, his tongue, and she grips his shirt with her own hands, leaning back to pull it over his head.

“Wow, you really are just my type.” Zoey breathes in awe, hand tracing lightly down over toned pecs, chasing patterns as they lead down over his inhumanly beautiful torso.

A hand grabs her wrist and Mystery grunts, drawing her attention back up just in time to have her mouth captured in another searing kiss. As he devours her, he presses her hand lower, until she’s cupping the solid, throbbing heat of him through his pants.

Oh.

He’s huge.

She maybe should have expected it, given that all of his attributes have been… generous thus far. Large tusks, impossible tongue, massive claws - yeah, this makes sense.

Still, she is suddenly very, very grateful for how much he had stretched when eating her out.

Zoey squeezes his length in her hand, and Mystery hisses against her lips, hips jerking forward. A thrill of power runs through her, and she repeats the action, sliding her hand along him and pressing her thumb over when she can feel the distinct outline of his tip.

With a feral noise, Mystery pushes her back against the bed, air leaving Zoey’s lungs in a soft whump. She scrambles up on her elbows just in time to see Mystery give his own pants the same treatment he gave all her clothes, talons shredding them like cobwebs.

He isn’t wearing any underwear, and that is a fact Zoey definitely files away for later.

Another time, Zoey might have reached out, taken him in her hand and mapped her fingers over every inch of him, committing the feel of his length to her memory. She might take him in her mouth, seeing how far she could take him, how long she could go without coming up for air.

But this time, there’s no patience for that. Mystery allows his tongue to loll forward from his mouth, a thick dose of saliva dripping into his hand, which he quickly spreads on his sizeable length, taking himself in hand as he approaches her.

He pauses, just for a second, and Zoey can feel him looking at her. Waiting for her permission.

Letting her knees fall to the side, she nods, and that’s all it takes.

The first slide of him within her is a slow, torturous burn, Mystery’s cock somehow hotter than the rest of him. It’s just this side of pain, but he doesn’t slam forward, instead inching onward to give her time to adjust.

And good god does she ever need it.

Her breath is shallow gasps in her throat, and she finds her hands scrambling for purchase on something, anything to keep her grounded. Mystery solves this for her, sliding his own hands over her and interlocking their fingers, pinning them next to her head and lowering himself over her.

His kiss is a distraction, drawing her attention away just enough for him to bottom out, leaving Zoey full in a way she’s not convinced any human was ever meant to be, and a way she’s never willing to give up. Seated within her, he stills, giving her time; time for her to relax around him, and time for her body to irrevocably record the memory of how he feels within her into her very DNA.

It doesn’t take too long before she’s moving beneath him, pressing up against Mystery to spur him into motion, bait he takes with apparent glee. With a pleased rumble, he begins to move, slow at first, but pace building steadily.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

It’s perfect.

Pleasure building within her, Zoey attempts to move against him, to move her hips to meet Mystery’s ever quickening thrusts, chasing every scrap of stimulation, every drag of infernal heat within her. She thinks she’s saying something, maybe begging, crying out for some form of “more” that even she isn’t sure what she’s asking for.

In a rush, she finds herself flipped over, shoulders pressed into the bed and ass hoisted into the air by Mystery’s insistent strength. She tries to push herself up onto her elbows, but Mystery snarls, mouth pressed between her shoulder blades, grip like a vice on the back of her neck as he thrusts himself back into her, and then Zoey can’t manage anything other than to grip the sheets tightly, uttering a constant chorus of moans and broken cries.

Content that she’s staying where he wants her, Mystery’s grip relaxes on her neck slightly, but only slightly, talons still pressed to the tender flesh of her throat. His pace within her is vicious, animalistic rutting that drives all sense and presence of mind from her. Every thrust has their bodies clapping together in desperate need.

As he moves within her, claws digging marks into her hip to pull her sharp against him and reach the deepest part of her, Mystery lavishes attention on her back and shoulders, biting and sucking at the skin, every mark soothed by his tongue in turn. Zoey is sure she’s going to be painted in bruises, and the girls are definitely going to have her head for that, but she doesn’t care. Every bite feels like proof of his desire for her, every mark a trophy carved from his affection.

Although, as he covers her shoulders in primal marks of his love, Zoey realizes that other than the one bite to her neck, every mark he has left on her is in an area their current costumes cover. She doesn’t know if it’s on purpose, but she also knows she’s caught him stalking their rehearsals often enough that it very well could be, and it makes something soft and tender inside her ache.

But there’s not much space for consideration of that, as Mystery lifts his mouth from her back, hand on her neck leaving to brush over his handiwork. Whatever he sees clearly pleases him, as he utters another of those satisfied growls, slowing his thrust briefly into long, deep slides that have Zoey squirming desperately. It’s torture, beautiful torture, being held like a ragdoll and observed so acutely, and she’s pretty sure at some point she starts babbling and begging him to go faster again, please, she’s so close.

Behind her, Mystery laughs, gripping her hips with both hands. She only has a second to think of how beautiful that laugh was, how she’s never heard it before and she’s pretty sure she’s going to devote her whole life to hearing it again, and then Mystery is slamming back into her with brutal force, drawing a yelp from her as he pulls her hips back to meet his own driving forward.

He doesn’t ease her back into his ferocity, doesn’t have any mercy on her. He slams into her with a strength that would ruin an average human, fast enough that there’s no chance of Zoey catching her breath between thrusts. It’s brutal, pushing her to her limit and beyond, but there’s no denying the rising surge of pleasure within her, not being coaxed out of her, but instead pounded into every fiber of her being. There’s nothing but the sounds of their bodies colliding, and the fierce, unrelenting pace practically forcing her towards her orgasm.

Mystery lets loose another feral noise, grip tightening on her hips and she’s pretty sure the lash of pain she feels is him drawing blood, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about that, or about how she’ll explain this tomorrow, or about the fact that if it weren't for the soundproofing, her moans would be loud enough to be heard through every inch of their expansive home. The pain only spurs her onwards, and Zoey feels herself driven mercilessly over the edge into the most intense orgasm of her life.

Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream as she comes apart on Mystery’s cock, trembling and twitching. He doesn’t slow down in the slightest, hand returning to the back of her neck and gripping her tight, pinning her in place like prey. As her pleasure recedes, it’s exquisite agony, but Zoey doesn’t try to escape, making broken little noises as Mystery somehow manages to thrust even quicker, pace faltering as he chases his own pleasure, using her body to his own ends.

With a snarled, tortured noise, Mystery snaps his hips a few last times before stilling deep within her, flooding Zoe with a warmth that verges on pain in that perfect way everything has thus far. As his grip on the back of her neck relaxes, Zoey melts into the mattress, thinking she really ought to have asked Rumi more about her dad.

Is there a demon Plan B out there?

She can’t bring herself to care that much, and when Mystery pulls himself from her, Zoey can’t do anything more than make a vague noise of complaint, laying there totally exhausted within the shreds of her shattered sanity. She had never even imagined it could be like that, so total and complete and devouring, and there is not a single scrap of her that regrets it. Sure, she definitely can’t walk right now, and she’s probably going to be sore as all get out tomorrow, but right now, still helplessly, hopelessly blissed out?

No regrets at all.

Lost in the aftermath of her pleasure, Zoey doesn’t notice Mystery moving, until she feels a familiar touch between her legs once again. Prying open her leaden eyelids with a soft grunt, she looks down to see him spreading her open, attention fixed on where she can feel him leaking out of her.

“Hey, stop that,” Zoey mumbles, somehow managing a level of embarrassment even after everything, reaching to push his head away with an arm that feels impossibly heavy. Seriously, with all the cardio they do for their choreo, how is she this exhausted?

She only succeeds in pressing one finger to the middle of his forehead in a halfhearted attempt to redirect him, which Mystery swats away lightly like a fly. Wrinkling her nose in annoyance, Zoey attempts to gather the strength to try again, when her efforts are suddenly rendered moot by Mystery leaning in, tongue delving into her again.

“Wai- It’s too much-” Zoey whimpers as the tingling burn of overstimulation cuts through the pleasant numbness in her body. Between her legs, Mystery answers with a soft crooning noise, not stopping in the slightest.

She can feel his tongue curling within her, base sliding up to cover her clit, and it’s fully overwhelming. Too much, too soon, but Mystery wraps gentle hands - human, now, the talons seeming to have receded at some point - around her thighs, and she can’t bring herself to push him away. She tangles shaking fingers in his hair, trembling as he sets about cleaning her out with his tongue.

It’s methodical, slow and smooth slide or heat and pressure in a way that it wasn’t before. Before was burning and hunger and need, and as the overstimulation begins to ease into pleasure once more, this is soothing warmth and coaxing. Mystery keeps making soft noises over the sound of his tongue sliding within her, and soon enough, Zoey feels another orgasm building within her.

Exhausted as she is, it’s different, not the clenching of muscles and bowstring snapping climax of their prior lovemaking. This is like a flash flood, a wave that rises within her and sweeps her away, white hot electricity causing her legs to twitch desperately in Mystery’s grasp as he greedily drinks up every drop. She is helpless, gasping and babbling nonsense, until Mystery finally, finally detaches from her.

If he wants a round two for himself, he’s going to have to do all the work. Darkness dances along the edges of Zoey’s vision, her grasp on consciousness rapidly slipping away from her.

Before she passes out, however, Mystery crawls up next to her, curling himself around her and purring like a big cat. As total exhaustion claims her, Zoey feels a smile curl her lips, as she realizes this is the first time Mystery has slept next to her, not at the foot of her bed.