Chapter Eighteen #2
"I'm fine," sniffled Archie, and laughed at how pathetic he sounded. His throat closed as he tried to explain it. Damaris’s face didn’t move like a human’s, but Archie was getting better at reading it and still caught the confusion. He shook his head. "I never thought I could have – this."
“You have had little expectation for yourself,” said Damaris disapprovingly. “A very human trait.” And yet, the arm around his waist tightened, pulling him tight.
After cleaning up, the idea of clothes felt so restrictive against his skin and yet the idea of staying naked was too exposing so Archie finally settled on a robe.
Plush and soft against his skin, yet enough of a blanket for him to pull around himself.
Damaris had no such compunction and was happily naked, his muscles flexing and his member soft against his thigh.
Archie blushed again, and averted his eyes.
Was nowhere safe for his delicate temperament at the moment?
He caught sight of the scratches across Damaris’s shoulders, long and a-many, and was startled out of his festering embarrassment. “Did I do that?”
“Hm?” Damaris peered at himself. “Yes, rather a vicious little kitten.”
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry,” said Archie, aghast.
Damaris raised an eyebrow at him and silently caught one of Archie’s wrists, pulling up the sleeve of the robe to reveal mottled bruises.
He suddenly had a vivid memory of Damaris throwing him face down onto the bed, catching both of his wrists in one of his hands to keep him stretched out and in place for Damaris’s pleasure, and swallowed.
Then Damaris flipped up the edge of the robe and turned Archie enough to see his back in the mirror.
A mottled red hand print spread possessively against the whole of his asscheek, from when Archie had been keening to crest for the fifth, or perhaps it was the sixth, time and Damaris had smacked his hand against him to force him over the edge.
“Yes, well–” said Archie weakly, but Damaris cut him off. “And this, too.”
He slid a hand up the inside of Archie’s thigh.
Archie’s cock tried to make an indication of interest, but could only twitch slightly in exhaustion, and when Damaris pressed down, it was one of those unknown areas of pain, and Archie cried out.
A bite mark, he realized with slight astonishment, and not just one but a whole trail of them from knee to crotch.
He couldn’t even remember when that had happened, and then distantly remembered Damaris’s fingers thrusting inside him after he had already come, writhing with the overstimulation.
“I look like I’ve been mauled, you brute,” said Archie, smoothing the robe back down. He could see the deep red of his ears in the mirror. He reached over to the other bed and tugged the rumpled covers straight. Seeing the stains every time he turned his head was making him lightheaded.
“And enjoyed yourself greatly,” asked Damaris, manhandling Archie so they were sprawled on the clean bed, Archie folded against his chest.
“Yes,” muttered Archie reluctantly. He was being ridiculous, he allowed himself to think. He’d been keeping it suppressed for so long, it was just difficult to allow himself to be happy.
A knock sounded on the door, startling Archie enough that he made a most undignified noise they both pretended they hadn’t heard. He glanced around, panicked. They couldn’t be seen in this state, not even if it was just the servants, this was indecent.
“Stay,” rumbled Damaris, unwrapping himself from around Archie, pressing him down onto the bed with one hand on his shoulder. He fished around for another robe and shrank his Damian form into it as Archie lay down, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.
Damaris pulled the blanket up over Archie’s head and for some reason it made him feel better just knowing that no one could see him.
It was a flimsy shield, because he could still hear Damaris opening the door and speaking to whoever was outside, but merely not having to make eye contact or deal with them unclenched the fist around his stomach a little. He waited, ears straining to no avail.
After the door shut, Archie didn’t hear the sound of any footsteps entering, so he wriggled free and sat up. Damaris with a tray in each hand, balanced unnaturally well as he slid them onto the table.
“The prince expressed his concern we had not joined them to sup last night,” said Damaris with some amusement as the hastily-tied belt came undone and the robe fluttered open.
Archie admired the bare view underneath before a realization struck him.
He’d never actually seen Damaris wear real clothes before.
The demon didn’t usually need it, he merely dissipated the shadows that formed his clothing.
“You didn’t–” Archie made some gesture he hoped conveyed the right thing.
"It seems that was the final feed I required to establish my materialized form." Damaris looked particularly pleased. He stroked a hand down his bare chest, muscled and tanned even though he'd never seen a real summer's day yet. "A strong showing of magic. I'd anticipated it would take longer."
Uncovering one of the dishes on the tray, Damaris leaned his face over it as steam rolled out. He basked in the heat, and then stuck his finger into the soup and licked it off his finger. He hissed, eyes narrowed in victory.
Archie's mind warred with his baser instincts. His cock twitched lightly at the sight of Damaris half disrobed, the way his tongue slid over his finger, but the rest of him was quickly realizing what this meant. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "You can taste it?"
"Hot. Savory, with a kick of spice. Excellent," confirmed Damaris, replacing the cover.
"That's great," said Archie shakily. So Damaris didn't need to taste things through him anymore. Or, indeed, he didn't need him for anything anymore now he'd regained his corporeal form.
"Liar," said Damaris, looking at him knowingly, and Archie flinched. Since when had Damaris been able to read him that well?
I am still here, said Damaris dryly from somewhere between Archie's ears and Archie jumped.
He didn't know what to say. At some point he'd stopped treating Damaris like a demon, a magical predator he'd made a cautious truce with and now he didn't know how to define the situation he'd created for himself.
Was Damaris a lover? Perhaps a half hour ago, he might have dared to think it in the privacy of his own mind, but Damaris had gotten everything he'd needed out of Archie.
He could do anything. Pass for human with anyone. Go anywhere, without Archie.
The attack of nerves struck him as suddenly as a fit of hiccups, like a fist in the center of his chest that punched all the air from his lungs, leaving him doubled over on the bed.
He’d had them a lot more before Damaris had occupied his mind and the thought made him laugh, or wheeze really because he couldn't breathe, at the idea of possession being a cure for fits.
But this was like an old friend, familiar to him as the lines on his palm.
He clutched at the bedsheets, grinding his knuckles against the firm mattress, pressing his heels in to ground himself.
He used to deal with these all the time.
How? Even as he got it under control, his entire body ached from the effort it took to stop himself from shaking.
Archie blinked, and finally focused to see Damaris leaning down to peer at him, with the tousled hair and high cheekbones of Damian, those arched eyebrows drawn together in a frown.
"Did you think I was done with you? Don't be presumptuous," said Damaris in that clipped, blunt way of his. He sneered, plush lips curling upwards. It would have been a cruel look on anyone else, but the glass of water he pushed into Archie's hand said otherwise.
"What do you mean?" Archie sipped slowly, the cold water tracing down his threat helping to ease the shake.
"Your thoughts are leaking all over the place.
Messy," chided Damaris. Archie hadn't thought about his mental tower in.
.. days. It hadn't occurred to him to keep Damaris out in any way and he flushed to realize that Damaris had truly taken Archie in every way possible in the last couple of days. "You think our deal complete?"
"It is," said Archie, not because he wanted it to be. His heart hurt as he forced the rest of it out. "You know I didn't understand what I was agreeing to when I made that deal, and now you have what you wanted."
"I do," mused Damaris. He narrowed his eyes at Archie. "Everyone always thinks humans will be corrupted by spending time with demons. No one ever thinks a demon could be corrupted after spending time with humans.”
This was a shock to Archie too. It shouldn’t have been, he’d seen first hand when Damaris had encountered something new, had learned more about the way humans lived, had heard his language change and his sentences grow longer the more exposed to Archie he was.
“Would demons consider this corruption?”
Damaris tilted his head as he considered.
This, too, felt more human. “Any weakness is considered corruption for a demon. The demon realm is harsh and unforgiving, the weaker demons are devoured by the strong. But humans relish in their comforts. You want to become as comfortable as possible, whether that is with your soft clothing or warm rooms. Or physical pleasures, in your case.”
“Well. Yes,” admitted Archie. The demon realm sounded horrific.
“Then yes, consider me corrupted. Why would I give this up? A ready, delicious, willing meal for me whenever I wish,” said Damaris, turning to Archie with his eyes gleaming. “No, I think it is too soon to consider us done. I propose a new deal.”
“Your proposed terms?” asked Archie too quickly, though they both knew the idea that he might turn a new deal down was a pretense.
“You remain bound to me, with your pleasure at my convenience.”
“That’s it?” It had crossed Archie’s mind so many times that he really ought to have worded his first pact more carefully, should have thought about implications and loopholes and hidden meanings, and yet now he had the chance to do it again, he couldn’t think of anything better.
“And new quarters. You are too restrained when you think someone might overhear.” Damaris indicated the state of the other bed as if to demonstrate how much more he could get out of Archie when he wasn’t worried about his family or the servants hearing.
“I – yes, I suppose that can be arranged,” said Archie, feeling his cheeks heat. The stipend from the prince would hopefully be enough for a little apartment in a decent townhouse. He’d have to find some way of explaining it to his parents though.
“Yours?”
“My what?” asked Archie.
“Terms.”
Oh! Archie had fully assumed that would be it.
He didn’t have much else he wanted, he didn’t think.
He could pick at the wording, given demons were notorious for abiding to the letter of the agreement if not the spirit.
“You said at your convenience. What if you get bored of me? Will you cast me aside to find someone new?”
Damaris narrowed his eyes. “Do you intend on becoming boring?”
“I suppose not.”
“Then it is not a concern,” said Damaris dismissively.
Archie could insist. But… “All right then. I trust you.”
“That seems unwise,” said Damaris, genuinely startled.
Archie reached up to cup his hand around Damaris’s jaw, the graze of stubble firm and real against his palm.
Damaris’s eyes narrowed as if he was waiting for the catch, before eventually turning to press a kiss into Archie’s palm. “All right then. Agreed.”
That felt like a win. The room flooded with the smell of moss as if they were in a woodland grove.
“Agreed,” said Archie, and surged up onto his tiptoes, wending his arms around Damaris’s neck as Damaris met him halfway for a kiss.