Chapter 8 Kallum
KALLUM
Christian’s body is a treat that I intend to consume. Every moan, every sharp inhale, every desperate plea, is mine to orchestrate. Mine to devour.
His soul has been mine for years—ever since he was foolish enough to open the border between Hell and Earth with that silly board game.
He was so afraid, so vulnerable, so desperate.
His soul called to me across time and space, begging me to make him mine.
He may not have always been aware of my presence in the periphery of his life, but I’ve been there, waiting, watching.
And now it’s time. Time to finally make him mine.
“Please, demon, I need you inside me,” he whines as I pump my fingers in and out of his slicked hole.
His pleas snap through the remaining threads of my restraint. I remove my fingers, relishing in the way his body clenches at the loss. He’s already missing me, craving the way I fill him. I stroke my cock, teasing his rim with the head, and smearing him with the evidence of my hunger.
“As you wish, Little Nightmare.”
Christian is bent beneath me, his flushed skin slick with sweat, and his body trembling as he tries to catch his breath. My pretty little human—so wrecked already, and I haven’t even given him my demon dick that he’s begging for.
“My name is Kallum, not just ‘demon.’ I want to hear you say my name while you come around my cock,” I command. Shadows curl around his waist, holding him in place as a reminder of who owns him. Tonight I claim my human.
His breath stutters, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him. “K-Kallum…”
A pleased growl vibrates in my chest. “Good boy.” I glide my hands over the globes of his ass, feeling the way they twitch under my touch and the way his muscles clench as if bracing for what’s to come. “Relax. You need to be open so you can take my cock, Little Nightmare.”
He whimpers, his fingers flexing against the sheets.
My shadows coil around his wrists, holding on to him tightly beneath me, a visual offering I will never grow tired of.
I press two fingers inside him, feeling his body stretch around me, and he gasps, his back arching, hips pushing down, desperate for more.
“Such a greedy thing,” I chuckle, curling my fingers and stroking that perfect spot inside him. His breath stutters, a ragged moan escaping as I fuck him open.
Only when I’m satisfied with how pliant he’s become do I pull my fingers free, pressing the head of my cock against his entrance. His breath catches, his body still beneath me. A delicious moment of anticipation—of surrender.
Then I take him. Christian gasps as I thrust into his tight, scorching heat, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth motion. His back arches as a strangled sound leaves his lips, and I drink it in like the sweetest nectar.
“Fuck, you feel perfect, like this ass was made to be mine,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
His body molds around me, drawing me deeper into his depths. His ass squeezes me like it was made for this, made for my darkness.
“Such a tight little hole,” I murmur, dragging my cock out inch by inch before slamming back inside. His whole body jolts forward from the force, but my shadows hold him in place. He’s going nowhere.
My hips thrust back and forth, driving my cock into him again and again.
I set a mercilessly rhythm as I thrust into him with relentless precision, forcing his body to accept the stretch, the fullness, the possession.
Christian moans, his fingers clawing at the sheets and his thighs trembling as I drive into him with all the tension that’s been building, wrecking him from the inside out.
His cock drips onto the sheets, untouched but twitching with every thrust.
“Look at you,” I purr, leaning over him, my lips brushing his ear. “Fucked open on my cock, moaning like a little slut. Do you even realize how perfect you are?”
He makes a noise of protest, as if his mind wants to deny it, but his body doesn’t lie. I reach down, gripping his throat and tilting his head back so I can watch the ruin painted across his flushed face. Lust-glazed eyes. Swollen lips. Sweat-dampened hair sticking to his forehead.
Mine.
A black tendril of shadow snakes down his stomach, curling around his cock and pulsing with the rhythm of my thrusts. His whole body spasms at the added sensation, a desperate cry ripping from his throat. His fingers dig into the sheets beneath him.
“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” I whisper against his sweat-slicked skin. “Without me even touching you properly. That’s how much your body craves this reckoning.”
His response is nothing but a broken moan, his back arching, his thighs trembling as the tension coils impossibly tight inside him. My grip tightens on his throat, not enough to take his air, just enough to make sure he feels it—feels me, everywhere, surrounding him, owning him.
The shadow wrapped around his cock pulses once, twice—then he shatters.
Christian comes with a strangled, wrecked sound, his body seizing beneath me as pleasure racks through him in violent waves.
His head tilts back exposing the vulnerable line of his throat, his lips parted, breathless.
My shadows hold him there, cradling him through it, milking every last tremor from his body until he’s nothing but soft, pliant wreckage beneath me.
Only then do I let myself follow, spilling inside him with a guttural growl as my hands grip his hips hard enough to bruise. For a moment, the world is nothing but ragged breaths and the heady scent of sweat and sex.
Christian is boneless beneath me, his body still trembling in the aftershocks, his breaths slow and uneven.
I keep him pressed against me, unwilling to let him drift too far.
My shadows are already moving—cleaning him and soothing the marks I left behind, stroking over his skin like invisible hands still hungry for him.
He sighs, content and melting into my touch as I draw lazy patterns down his spine.
My shadows tuck the sheets around us, keeping him warm even as his body shivers from overstimulation.
I pull him rightly against me, his back to my front, and run my fingers through his damp hair.
He stiffens, clearly uncertain for a moment.
“Relax, Little Nightmare, I’m not going to now consume your flesh and feast on your entrails. I’ve had my fill of eating you … for now.”
My shadows curl around him, hugging him and comforting him. It takes him a moment before I feel him relax and give in. I growl in pleasure as I curl up with my human. For the first time in what feels like forever, I am not drowning in hunger.
Fuck, I’ve become a domesticated monster.
Christian hums sleepily, his lips brushing against my unnaturally hued skin as he lays a soft kiss on my arm. “You’re weirdly … gentle for a demon.”
I chuckle, the sound low and satisfied. “You’re mine. I take care of what’s mine.”
His fingers trace absentmindedly over my corded forearm that’s bound around him, following the ridges of my muscles. His touch is light but possessive. It stirs something dark and pleased inside me. “Your shadows…” he murmurs. “They move like they have a mind of their own.”
“They do,” I say, watching as one curls lazily around his wrist, like a cat winding itself around his body. Christian watches, entranced, flexing his fingers as if testing its weight.
“They … like me?” he asks, a little uncertain, but I can hear the curiosity in his voice.
I smirk, resting my chin on the top of his head. “They adore you.” I drag my fingers down the column of his neck and across his shoulder, feeling the way his body reacts so sensitively. “They’ve wanted to touch you since the moment I laid eyes on you. You should hear how they whisper about you.”
Christian shivers, glancing at the shadows wrapped around his wrist, coiling between his fingers like they’re fascinated by him. “What do they say?”
I exhale a laugh. “They tell me you’re soft, that you taste sweet, that they want to wrap around you until you’re dripping in me.” I let my teeth graze his ear. “That they want to mark you the way I have.”
His breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he watches the way the shadows move over his skin, thoughtful. “They’re kind of … comforting,” he admits after a beat.
A pleased growl rumbles in my chest. “They’ll always protect you.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, nuzzling against me. “Even from my shitty ex?”
My grin is sharp. “Especially from him.”
Christian sighs, relaxed, the haze of exhaustion creeping in. “Good,” he mutters sleepily. “Because I think I like them too.”
I let my shadows cradle him as he drifts off, their quiet purring filling the space between us. And as I hold him with his warmth pressed against mine, I think—if I were capable of feeling human things, this might be what peace feels like.