Chapter 11
By the time the last guest left—Alice Deleon, who winked at me and whispered “Enjoy your evening” with far too much innuendo—the sun had set and the backyard was illuminated only by the string lights Malphas had hung from the trees.
We cleaned up in silence, the air between us heavy with expectation. I was hyperaware of his every movement, the deliberate way he avoided touching me as we gathered plates and stacked chairs.
When the last trash bag was tied and the kitchen restored to its immaculate state, Malphas finally turned to me, leaning against the counter.
“So,” he said, his voice deceptively casual, “boyfriend?”
I felt heat rise to my face. “I got carried away. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”
“It didn’t,” he said simply. “I liked it.”
“Oh.” I shifted, suddenly unsure where to put my hands. “Good.”
“What I don’t like,” he continued, pushing away from the counter to approach me, “is seeing someone else touch what’s mine.”
There was that possessiveness again, sending an inappropriate thrill through me. “Yours, huh? That’s presumptuous.”
He stopped directly in front of me, so close I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “Is it? After what we’ve shared this past month?”
I swallowed hard, torn between the urge to surrender to whatever this was between us and the fear of admitting how deeply he affected me.
“I don’t know what we’re doing here, Malphas,” I admitted. “This started as temporary housing and turned into… something else. Something I wasn’t expecting.”
“Does it need a label?” he asked, one hand coming up to cup my face. “Does it matter what we call it, as long as we both want it?”
Put like that, it seemed simple. But nothing about our situation was simple.
“What happens when my apartment is fixed?” I asked, the question that had been hovering between us for days. “Do we just… go back to how things were before?”
Something vulnerable flickered in his eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” I admitted before I could stop myself. “But I don’t know if what I want is possible. You’re a demon prince. I’m just… me.”
Malphas’s expression softened. “Sam,” he said, his thumb stroking my cheek, “I’m also a suburban homeowner who stress-bakes when the lawn doesn’t green evenly. And you’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re extraordinary.”
The simple sincerity in his words undid me. I surged forward, capturing his mouth in a kiss that conveyed everything I couldn’t say aloud. Malphas responded instantly, his arms wrapping around me, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.
I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me through the house, our mouths still fused together. We didn’t make it to the bedroom. Instead, Malphas deposited me on the living room sofa, his larger body covering mine as he deepened the kiss.
“Mine,” he growled against my lips, his hands working at the buttons of my shirt. “Say it, Sam. Say you’re mine.”
“Yours,” I gasped as his mouth trailed hot kisses down my neck. “All yours. And you’re mine.”
He pulled back slightly, his eyes blazing red. “Yes,” he agreed, the single word filled with so much meaning it made my chest ache. “Completely yours.”
What followed was different from our previous encounters. There was an urgency, a desperation that hadn’t been there before. Clothes were shed with frantic hands, buttons popping, fabric tearing as our need overcame finesse.
When we were both naked, Malphas paused, looking down at me with an expression that was both possessive and reverent. “I want to mark you,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “So everyone knows you belong to me.”
The request should have seemed primitive, archaic. Instead, it sent heat spiraling through me. “Yes,” I breathed, arching up against him. “Do it.”
His mouth descended to my neck, sucking and biting with just enough pressure to leave marks. His hands roamed my body possessively, mapping every inch of skin as if committing it to memory.
“Turn over,” he commanded when he’d thoroughly marked my neck and chest.
I complied, settling onto my stomach on the wide couch. Malphas’s hands gripped my hips, pulling them up slightly. Then his mouth was on my back, trailing down my spine with hot, open-mouthed kisses.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against my skin. “So perfect.”
His hands kneaded my ass appreciatively, spreading me open. When his tongue flicked against my entrance, I gasped, burying my face in a throw pillow.
“Malphas,” I moaned as he began to work me open with his tongue, the sensation overwhelming in its intimacy.
He took his time, reducing me to a writhing, begging mess before finally replacing his tongue with a slick finger. By the time he had three fingers inside me, I was practically sobbing with need.
“Please,” I gasped, pushing back against his hand. “Need you inside me now.”
“Look at me,” he commanded, withdrawing his fingers.
I turned my head, meeting his gaze over my shoulder. His eyes were pure hellfire, his expression almost feral with desire.
“Mine,” he growled again, lining himself up.
“Yours,” I confirmed, then cried out as he pushed inside me in one smooth thrust.
The stretch was exquisite, the slight burn only enhancing the pleasure. Malphas gave me a moment to adjust, his hands running soothingly down my sides.
“Move,” I finally gasped. “Please, Malphas, move.”
He complied, setting a pace that was neither gentle nor rough, but perfect—deep, measured strokes that hit exactly where I needed them. One of his hands wrapped around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
“No one else gets to see you like this,” he rumbled, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it. “No one else gets to touch you. Only me.”
“Only you,” I agreed, the possessiveness igniting something primal within me. “And no one else touches you either. You’re mine too.”
His rhythm faltered at my words, and he groaned, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of his being. “Yes, Sam. Yours. Always yours.”
The intensity between us built rapidly, our bodies moving in perfect synchrony. I was close, so close, teetering on the edge of release.
“Come for me,” Malphas commanded, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. “Show me who you belong to.”
His words pushed me over the edge, and I came with a cry of his name, my body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through me in waves. Malphas followed moments later, his release hot inside me, his body shuddering against mine.
For a long moment, we remained connected, both breathing heavily. Then, with gentle hands, Malphas turned me to face him, gathering me against his chest as he settled us more comfortably on the sofa.
“That was…” I began, but words failed me.
“Yes,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple. “It was.”
We lay in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing patterns on my back. The possessive urgency had faded, replaced by a tender contentment that was equally powerful.
“I don’t want to go back to my apartment,” I said finally, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Malphas’s arms tightened around me. “Then don’t.”
I lifted my head to look at him. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he confirmed, his expression serious. “Stay. Move your things here. Make this your home too.”
The simplicity of his offer took my breath away. “But… it’s only been a month. Isn’t that moving too fast?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Sam, I’m several millennia old. From my perspective, we’re moving at a glacial pace.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “Fair point.”
His expression softened. “I know it might seem fast by human standards. But when something feels right… why fight it?”
I considered his words, weighing my fears against the undeniable truth: I was happier here, with him, than I’d been anywhere else. Even with the demonic aspects, the occasional supernatural weirdness, and yes, the obsessive lawn care—this felt like home in a way no place ever had.
“Okay,” I said, making my decision. “I’ll stay. But I’m not letting you rearrange my comic books by publication date or whatever organizational system you’re itching to implement.”
He looked offended. “I would never. They should clearly be arranged by story arc and artistic significance.”
I groaned, burying my face in his chest. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, tilting my face up to his, “you’re choosing to stay with me.”
“I am,” I agreed, something warm and wonderful expanding in my chest. “God help me, I am.”
“Let’s leave Him out of this,” Malphas murmured, echoing his words from our first time together. Then he kissed me, soft and sweet and full of promise.
As I melted into his embrace, I thought about how strange and unexpected my life had become. A month ago, I’d been a reluctant attendee at a supernatural support group, seeking donuts and normalcy.
Now I was moving in with a demon prince who threw neighborhood barbecues and got jealous when pretty college girls flirted with him.