Author: Q’at

Disclaimer: “Hellboy” is a copyrighted character belonging to Mike Mignola and Dark Horse Comics. I didn’t create him (I just made him better.) Jennifer Styles and Clark are products of my own twisted imagination. This story contains sexually explicit material. If you get a raging case of “stone gullion,” don’t blame me. (But you can thank me at catfitz4@netzero.com.)
 

Demon Lover

Part One

She cringed at the sight of the sardonic-grin-sporting electronics technician coming down the metallic corridor toward her. She had hoped to slip into the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence complex without him seeing her. Sorry, Jen, not this time. Damn it.

Arms folded across his clean, white lab coat—ironic considering his greasy personality—he paused directly in front of her. “Back to see more of the freak show, Ms. Styles?”

She did a left-hand dodge around him and kept walking. “I really wish you’d knock that off, Clark. He’s not a freak, and I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate your talking about him like that. I certainly don’t.”

He turned with her. “Not a freak?” he remarked with a derisive snort. “You’re telling me that a seven-foot-tall monster, complete with horns and a tail—”

Aggravated, she sighed. “He doesn’t have horns, Clark.”

“Only because he keeps them sheared off with a goddamn angle grinder,” he snickered.

Her fingers tightened upon the package in her left hand. The revulsion she felt at Clark’s pea-brained prejudice was only intensified by the scrubby, two-day-growth of whiskers that he seemed to think made him look irresistible. “If being around him bothers you so much, why don’t you just quit?”

He shrugged. “A six-figure income for a humble ET isn’t easy to come by in the real world.”

“Glad to see your heart’s in the right place, at least.”

Placing his hand upon her shoulder, he brought her to a halt. “What about your heart, Jen? You’re not on the payroll here. What’s the attraction between you and Big Red?”

“We’re friends. Is that too difficult a concept for you to grasp?”

“Friends?” The crooked smirk faded, then his eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you and that thing are…”

She shrugged him off. “You’re disgusting. Why don’t you do everybody a favor and go stick your dick in a light socket.”

“I’d rather do that than let that Hell-thing anywheres near me. Much less touch me.”

Anxious to be as far away from that idiot as the confines of the underground top security complex would allow, she quickened her pace.

“You listen to me, Ms. Jennifer Styles,” he called after her. “That thing is dangerous. It’s a demon, not a man. Don’t forget where it came from!”

Her anger left a bitter taste in her mouth as she navigated the familiar corridors through one set of magnetic doors after another, passing other members of the research team who had come to accept her presence over the last few months. Clark was a jackass. Unfortunately, he was also a first-class tech. At least everyone said so. Including Red. Now that was a pretty piece of irony, she thought. But then, Red was like that. He told the truth. Even if it meant complimenting a narrow-minded turd like Clark. Of course, the big guy could just as easily tell some asshole to take a running fuck at a rolling donut. But only if the asshole genuinely deserved it.

Just the thought of Red dissolved away the anger and brought a smile to her lips. She flashed back to the night she had met the legendary Hellboy. Actually, nobody called him that any more; not his friends, at least. And sadly, he didn’t have many due to the state of secrecy he was forced to live in. Naturally, the tabloids continued their quasi-journalistic hunt for the mysterious “demon-spawn” that was reputedly being held in some secret government facility. Cash rewards for an actual photo skyrocketed with each supposed sighting. Red himself took great pleasure in tormenting his personal paparazzi, often slipping out of the complex late at night to wander the streets of Newark. Such had been the case when they first met.

It was around 1:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Jen had just returned home from yet another disappointing date. No sooner had she opened the door, than her cat, Fidget, darted between her feet and disappeared into the night. Frantic, she grabbed the box of treats in hopes of luring her beloved feline back inside. An hour of searching the neighborhood revealed nothing. Fidget was gone.

That’s when she heard the voice, a man’s voice, deep and dark—and coming from the branches of a tree directly above her. “Does this belong to you?”

With a startled gasp she turned to see a leather-clad hand descend from the thick foliage. And in its grasp was Fidget! Delighted and grateful, she retrieved the orange tabby. But who was this mysterious benefactor? And what the hell was he doing in a tree at two in the morning?

Holding the cat close to prevent another escape, she peered up into the tangle of branches. “Whoever you are, thank you.”

“No problem. I kinda have a thing for cats.”

“Apparently you also have a thing for climbing trees. No offense, but that seems just a little odd.”

“I’m an odd kind of guy.”

She knew the last thing she should be doing was conversing with a total stranger in the middle of the night, especially when that stranger was sitting in a freakin’ tree. Still, there was an element of twisted intrigue to it. Besides, he obviously liked cats. How bad could a guy like that be?

Securing Fidget under her arm, she craned her neck, trying once more to make out some detail of the shadowy figure perched above. “Well, thanks again,” she told him. “Um, were you planning on staying up there all night?”

There came a rustling as he shifted his weight, which by the creaking of the branches sounded considerable. “I thought I might just hang around for awhile.”

Ok, now this was getting too weird, even by her standards for men. “Yeah, well, then I guess I’ll just be going. Thanks again for finding my cat.”

“You’re wel—!”

There was a loud crack as the branch he was sitting on gave way. Jen yelped and jumped backward to avoid the rain of debris and possible body. His massive form crashed downward then stopped suddenly—miraculously—less than a foot from the pavement! All she could do was hold her breath and stare. He was clad in a long, leather trench coat, the lower portion of which had flopped down over his head. His black, skin-tight pants were leather too, and he wore heavy, biker-type boots.

“Dear god, are you all right?” she cried, trying to get a glimpse of his face as he hung there. In another heartbeat, the obvious question exploded through her mind: Why is he just hanging there? Her gaze traveled up his backside. She got her answer all right—he was suspended by a six-foot-long prehensile tail!

In a maneuver that required tremendous strength, he righted himself and dropped to the sidewalk in front of her. If she had been drooling like an idiot at that moment, she never would’ve noticed. All she could do was stare dumbfounded at this seven-foot hulking creature with a complexion the color of an over-ripe tomato. And a tail!

“You’re not gonna scream or faint, are you?” he asked, casually brushing bits of bark and leaves from his coat.

She jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, deep, gruff, yet hinting of humor. Numbly, she shook her head. “You…you’re that…that…”

“Hellboy.” His smile revealed large, white teeth. “My friends call me Red.”

She swallowed with great difficulty. “Sure, of course they would,” she croaked. “I—I didn’t think you were even real.”

He reached out with his left hand and scratched Fidget’s head. “Real enough. But I’d kinda appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anybody about this.”

“About you falling out of the tree?”

The side of his mouth quirked upward. “Uh, yeah. Especially that.”

She actually laughed in spite of her terror. There was something about his eyes, gold, like a cat’s, filled with an unexpected kindness. His features were harsh, broad and craggy, yet his demeanour seemed gentle. And it was obvious that Fidget—a highly discriminating feline—found him charming.

Pulling his collar up around his thick neck, he turned to leave. “Well, guess I’d better be going.”

Her thoughts screamed at her. Say something, quick. “Stop!” Oh, great choice. “I mean… Do you…that is, can you…” She struggled to sound intelligible. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee…or something?”

He lifted a brow ridge. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cold beer on hand?”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

A smile blossomed across his countenance. “Sweetheart, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

And so it was.

They had talked for hours that night, nearly until dawn before he’d been forced to return to the complex. He told her everything about himself; the truth, not the sensationalist tripe the tabloids were spewing out. He told her how he was found as an infant in 1944, the hapless victim of a Nazi experiment to open a gateway to Hell. Professor Broom, founder of the BPRD, had rescued him and raised him as his own son. Red had nothing but loving things to say about his adoptive father, a gentle, compassionate man who had done everything humanly possible to give the boy a “normal” home. But how normal could life be, Jen wondered, for anyone—especially a demon child—to be raised in secrecy and isolation, not able to interact with or even see other children? And though he never said it in so many words, it was obvious that this gentle giant was very lonely.

Yet in spite of it all, he had developed a poignantly off-the-wall sense of humor. As an added reward for finding her cat, she had offered to make him an omelet. “So, what do you like in it: cheese, peppers, tomatoes, onions…sewer rat?” God! Why did she say that? It was her own twisted sense of humor slipping out.

Red’s reply was classic deadpan: “Hold the onions.”

There was nothing about him she didn’t find fascinating, from the massive chunk of “living rock” that formed his right hand and forearm, to the meticulously trimmed patch of black whiskers that covered his chin. He liked his steak rare, his music hard, and his ice cream with salt and pepper sprinkled on top. And, of course, beer. In every way, he was a conundrum of contradictions. Born a demon, raised a man. He was Hellboy. He was Red. And he was her friend.
Pausing at the door to his chambers, she pressed the com button. “It’s open,” came the gruff voice over the speaker, barely audible above the pounding beat of Motley Crew.

“It’s open” was a running joke with him. By decree of the BPRD, his door was always kept locked. She keyed in the secret code number he’d given her. The shiny, metallic barrier opened with a hydraulic hiss. There he stood—all six-point-five feet of him—wearing nothing but a pair of brightly colored Hawaiian print shorts, complete with an opening for his tail. A flush warmed her cheeks. Often as she’d seen it, he was still a magnificent sight to behold, with a physique that made Arnold Schwarzenegger look like Peewee Herman and a kiss-my-rosy-red-ass kind of attitude to match.

A beer in one hand, he smiled. “Hey, Jen! I wasn’t expecting you ‘til later.” His words were muffled slightly by the stub of a cigar clenched between his teeth.

The music hit her full force; she practically had to shout just to hear herself. “I finished up my last house cleaning job early, so I just thought I’d drop by. Hope you don’t mind.” Several cats of various shapes and colors came scurrying to greet her. The remaining three dozen or so were busy with other cat activities. He hadn’t been joking when he said he had a thing for cats. They were everywhere! It always amazed the hell out of her that there was never even the slightest trace of odor, such was the magic of the recently installed atmospheric ionizers. Even his rum-flavored cigar gave off very little scent, which was too bad because she rather liked that aroma. It was so him.

Her gaze skipped around the room. The place was a mess, as usual. Yes, he was a slob, but a lovable slob. Still, he would have none of her efforts to tidy things up. She was his friend, not his maid, he’d told her.

Red set his beer on a table—gently brushed two more cats aside—and grabbed the remote to soften the music. “Naw, I don’t mind. Just means we’ve got more time to spend together.” Trying to be discreet, he used the tip of his tail to push a copy of Playboy beneath some scattered newspapers. “Soooo… Can I getcha a drink?” he remarked, a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

She tried not to smile. “The usual.”

He went to the cafeteria-sized refrigerator and got her a diet Coke. Jen was pleased to see that the government had managed to cough up a little extra cash to provide him with a few more creature comforts. “Creature comforts” for the “creature,” he liked to say. Still, it was a damn sight better than the near-squalor he used to live in. Some gratitude for the guy who risked his life keeping the rest of the population safe. And though his updated quarters were comfortable enough with all the amenities a “guy” could want: big screen plasma TV, mega stereo system, full internet access, and a widely varied assortment of music and movies—which included a conspicuous collection of porn—they still had a kind of high-tech-sterile-laboratory feel. And as for the care of the cats, he had a staff of genuine FBI agents who took care of those details.

Not a bad set up for the most part. Though despite the recently added conveniences, he still wasn’t much more than a prisoner. That was for his own protection, they had told him in the beginning. The only time he was allowed to leave the complex was when his special talents were needed to investigate some paranormal disturbance. Truth was, though, if he had really wanted out, nothing could’ve stopped him. To that end, they tended to turn a blind eye to his occasional nocturnal outings, and to the few select individuals from the outside whom he had chosen as friends.

He gestured for her to be seated then lowered himself into his own specially made recliner. He took a drag on his cigar then followed it with a swig of beer. “Whatcha got there?” he asked, nodding toward the manila envelope she’d brought with her.

She handed the bulky package over to him with a smile. “A present. I found those episodes of The X Files you wanted, and I also got Shrek 2. I remember you saying how much you liked it.”

A childlike look of delight brightened his features as he tore the envelope open and peered inside. Along with the DVDs, she had included three Baby Ruth candy bars, his favorite. “Awww, Jen. You’re the greatest.”

Sipping her drink, she studied him as he read the blurb on the back of the first disc. X Files had been one of his favorite programs; although, he thought Mulder was a first-class wuss. Scully, on the other hand, was “one hot babe”. In his appreciation of the female gender, Red was all man.

As she gazed down at the drink in her hands, Clark’s caustic innuendos echoed back to her. Ok, sure, Red was technically a demon, but there was certainly nothing “demonic” about him. Screw theological definitions. She never had believed that religious crap anyway. In her mind he was simply a different kind of life form, from a different dimension perhaps. At times those differences seemed so very small and insignificant. Then at others, the rift seemed unfathomable.

He turned to her, the sound of his voice bringing her out of her reverie. “Hey, kiddo, something wrong?”

She forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey, don’t lie to Big Red. I can tell when something’s buggin’ you.”

With a shallow sigh, she told him, “I ran into Clark on the way here.”

“Yeah? How’s the ass-wipe doin’?”

She couldn’t help but grin. “When you put it that way, I suppose he’s perfect. It’s just that… He said some things.”

The gold eyes narrowed slightly. “What kinda things?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, for him. Things about us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you know…us.”

“Oooh. Us.” The heavily muscled jaw worked from side to side. “And it bothered you.”

“Of course. He meant it as an insult.”

He tipped his head back, casually expelling a cloud of rum-scented smoke. “What part made you feel insulted? The insinuation that you were doin’ it? Or doin’ it with me?”

“Red!” She sat upright on the sofa, surprised and a little hurt. “It was nothing like that. It just makes me angry the way he talks about you, like you’re less than human.”

He leaned toward her. “Take another look, baby,” he said, pointing to the two blunt horn stubs on his forehead. “I am ‘less than human.’”

“No, you’re not. You’re not less than anyone. In fact, you’re greater than most people I know. And that’s why I—” The words caught in her throat. She glanced away and took a quick sip of her drink.

He studied her in silence. Then after an awkward pause, he asked, “So…have you ever thought about it? The us part, I mean?”

She couldn’t speak for several moments. Cheeks burning, she stared down at the can of soda, ran her finger around the rim. “I don’t know. Maybe. I…I just assumed it would be impossible, because…”

“Because you’re a woman and I’m a demon.” He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, the smoldering cigar pinched between his fingers, and threw her his devilish half-smile. “Hell, sweetheart, where do you think lawyers and politicians come from?”

The heat in her cheeks spread as she laughed. Fact was, she had thought about it. A lot. But, Jesus Christ, he was huge. If that part was proportionate to the rest of him—!

He knocked a clump of ash onto the floor. Instantly, a small robotic vacuum disk scuttled from beneath a table to suck up the spill. “Ok, then,” he began matter-of-factly, gesturing with the cigar between his fingers. “We’ve established that we’ve both thought about it. So, whadaya think we oughta do about it?”

Jen blinked. If nothing else, he was succinct. “Good god, Red, why don’t you just come out and say, ‘hey, ya wanna fuck?’”

He cocked his head at her, eyes narrowed. “Ya wanna fuck?”

She gasped in mock affront and hurled a fuzzy cat toy at him. Without flinching a muscle, he caught the thing in midair with his tail then continued to puff on his cigar. “Should I take that as a yes?”

Her lips tightened into a smile. “Yes.”

With his tail, he gave the toy a squeak before hurling it into the midst of several eager felines. “Great!” A deliciously lewd grin spread across his features as he stretched out in the recliner, legs crossed, as if preparing to watch a favorite movie. “Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

He chuckled at her reaction. “Relax, kiddo, I’m just teasin’.”

Eyes locked on hers, he laid the cigar in an ashtray then rose from the chair and came toward her. A quiver started deep in Jen’s stomach, spreading through every part of her, an intoxicating mixture of excitement and apprehension. Pausing in front of her, he held out his left hand. She took it, fingers trembling slightly, and allowed him to draw her up off the sofa.
Tentatively, reverently, she raised her other hand and stroked the hard ripple of muscles across his abdomen, felt them tense at her touch. His skin was warm and smooth and so very human. Her fingers glided upward to the great swell of his chest. He was a god, a god of Hell perhaps, but still a god in every way. Strong. Beautiful. Magnificent.

With a tenderness unimagined, he caressed the side of her face, traced the contour of her cheek, her neck, the hollow of her throat… She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. His lips brushed her forehead…her temple…lingered a whisper from her mouth. His scent was a blend of sweet, smoky rum and malt. Slipping his arm around her back, he pulled her close and kissed her. Dizzying sensations swirled through her; she clasped him tightly to keep from falling. Oh, Red…!

Eyes like molten gold, he peered down into her very soul. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could scarcely speak. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

His mouth compressed into a hard line and he shrugged. “Guess I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” In a compassionate gesture, she reached up and stroked his face, smoothed back the black whiskers along his jaw line. “Afraid of what?”

Glancing away for an instant, he murmured, “C’mon, Jen. I’m not made of stone. Well…not all of me.” He flexed his right hand, the strange, living-rock appendage that had served as a kind of supernatural battering ram in his battles with multitudes of unearthly creatures.

It was at that moment that she fully comprehended the depth of his loneliness. And his humanity. He was afraid of what every man was secretly and profoundly afraid of. She knew. She understood. And she felt the same way. Wrapping her arms about his powerful torso, she laid her head against his chest, heard the gentle thunder of his great heart. I’ll never hurt you, Red.

Then, gazing up into his misleadingly hard, stoic features, she took a step back, raised her hands, and began unfastening the buttons on her blouse. One by one, they popped open. Red stood transfixed, not blinking, not even breathing as she removed the garment and cast it aside. “Would you like to do the honors?” she whispered, indicating the clasp on the front of her brassiere.

He rubbed his fingers together in the manner of a safe-cracker before reaching up to unsnap the little plastic catch. For a big guy, he was amazingly dexterous. The bra fell open, suspended on her breasts. Hooking his left thumb under one strap, and the tip of his tail under the other, he slipped the article off her shoulders and flung it to the floor. He swallowed hard. “Jesus, Jen…” he murmured, enraptured, as if he couldn’t find the right words. “I always figured you must have a killer rack…”

She laughed. “You are the silver-tongued devil.”

Pressing his face against the side of her neck, he cupped her breast, gently pinched the nipple between his fingers. “Mmmm…you’re half right.”

A moan escaped her lips as her body surrendered to his manipulations. His teeth closed on her ear, the artful tongue tracing each subtle contour. Warm shivers ran down her side. “How ‘bout you lose those jeans,” he whispered.

Scarcely aware that she was doing it, she reached down, undid the fly, then pushed jeans and underpants far enough down that she could kick off her sandals and wriggle free. Her thoughts swirled. Was this really happening? Was she under some kind of spell? Words from far away echoed back to her. Remember what he is! Remember where he came from! The fear crept back. No! This was Red. Red could never harm her.

He pulled her close, close enough that she could feel the enormous swelling of his own enthusiasm. In a reflexive gesture, she wedged her hands against his chest. “Red, wait.”

“What? What?” There was a sharp note of surprise and frustration in his voice. “Christ, Jen, please don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

“Are you kidding? No, it’s just that…you’re so…” Fever filled her cheeks. She finally just spit the words out. “Holy shit, Red, you’re so damn big.”

His lips curved upward in a cunning half-smile. “Hell, sweetheart, is this what you’re worried about?” With that, he jerked his shorts down, revealing the most startling, amazing, wonderfully bizarre cock she’d ever seen in her life! His tail waved back and forth as he grinned. “Pretty damn impressive, eh?”

She was speechless. Shocked. And also relieved. The thing wasn’t the bludgeoning monstrosity she had feared. Yet it was a spectacular work of phallic art that would make any male porn star writhe with envy. The head was unusually wide and covered with dozens of small nubs. But most astonishing of all…it was curved the wrong way!

He kicked the shorts aside; they landed on a pair of startled cats. Pulling her close, he pressed himself hard against her. “Ready to take a ride on the big, red rollercoaster?”

She pulled away and climbed up onto the sofa. Standing nearly eye to eye with him, she assumed a crouch. “Fasten your seatbelt, big guy!” With that, she leaped and landed on his muscular torso, legs wrapped firmly around his waist, arms twined around his neck.

He laughed and grasped a handful of plump buttock. Kissing her, he carried her into his bed chamber. With a flick of his prehensile tail, the lights came on; two more flicks and they dimmed. The wetness coming from her coated his stomach. God, she wanted him!

He gave a dry hiss, and several cats, along with the dusting robot, vacated instantly. “Only need one pussy in here at the moment,” he remarked in a throaty growl.

His bedroom was a mini museum filled with religious figures and paranormal artifacts from around the world, tokens of the places where he’d been sent by the BPRD to save their populaces from the things that go bump in the night. There were also paintings—most of them erotic—depicting females, both human and demonic in nature. Then there was his bed. King-sized, of course, and no doubt heavily reinforced. At least she hoped so.

With Jen still clinging firmly to him, he paused at the edge of the bed and slowly bent over. She let go and landed with a gentle bounce upon the mattress. Red peered down at her, looked her all over. His eyes grew luminous. Then without warning, he grabbed her knees and yanked them apart. “This sow is mine!” he growled in an unearthly voice, teeth bared.
She let out a startled cry and scrambled backward. He laughed, obviously pleased by her reaction. “C’mon, sweetheart, admit it. If I was any other guy, you’d think that was hilarious.”

He was right. And it annoyed her most that she had allowed some latent prejudice to make her respond that way.
Recovering her composure, she pointed to a statue on the shelf behind him. “What’s that supposed to be?”

He turned. “Which one?”

In that instant, she lunged, grasped the end of his tail and brought her teeth down on the leathery skin.
“Hey—!” Surprise, amusement, and a bit of nervous uncertainty played across his features. He held up his finger admonishingly. “Ok, now, take it easy, Jen.”

She tightened her bite a little more.

“Hey, I’m sorry, ok?"

Her words muffled by the thick hunk of demon tail in her mouth, she said, “You gonna stop dickin’ around and get down to business?”

“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.”

She let go and propped herself on her elbows. “Now I know what it takes for a girl to get a piece of tail around here.”

“Yeah, very funny. So now we’re even, right?”

Feeling quite smug, she rolled over to make room for him on the enormous mattress. Despite his size, he moved with a seductive kind of stealth. But then, he is “The Seducer,” she mused.

He laid down beside her, the bulk of his weight supported by the great stone appendage. With his left hand, he brushed the hair from her forehead then kissed her as before, gently, savoringly, but with a renewed enthusiasm. She welcomed the delicate intrusion of his tongue with her own eager response. Heat from his body penetrated her flesh. She pressed herself closer and ran her hands over the massive span of muscles that comprised his arms and shoulders.

His tongue blazed a path down her throat. She knew what to expect. She wanted it and arched her back in readiness. Grasping her breast, he closed his mouth over her nipple, sucking the aching peak to the point of exquisite agony. She moaned and dug her nails into the thick, hard muscles of his back. He did the same to the other nipple. Tears filled her eyes. God, she wanted him! Wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her. Wanted to feel the fullness of him in her. Hooking her foot over his leg, she urged him to take her.

“Damn, you are the eager one,” he remarked, his voice thick and gruff with passion.

The throbbing ache between her legs was unbearable. “Shut up and fuck me!”

A chuckle rumbled deep in his throat as he nudged her legs apart and poised himself above her, gold eyes glowing. “I aim to give it hell, baby.”

Her breath caught sharply in her throat as he began to push into her. She tightened the muscles in her vagina in order to intensify the sensation. Make him work for it, she thought. And he did.

Sweat formed a crimson sheen on his skin. Teeth clenched, he drove himself deeper. Jen gasped and stared wide-eyed as the reason for his peculiar-shaped organ suddenly became clear: The nub-covered head of his inverted cock was pressing directly against her g-spot! Ooooh, god…she’d never felt anything like this before. She couldn’t believe it was even possible for a human body to experience such pleasure. Pulse thundering in her ears, she could do nothing but lie there and take it—and love it.

Driven like a beast, he continued his erotic assault, bringing her closer and closer to the very pinnacle of sublime madness. She clawed at his back, struck him with her fists. Damn you! her thoughts screamed as wave after dizzying wave of raw pleasure surged through her senses. His breath was hot, his flesh was hot, searing her, melding her to him. Moaning and whimpering in helpless abandon, she writhed beneath him, fucking him as hard as he was fucking her.

And just when she didn’t think she could stand any more…it began; the gathering, the rising of the climactic energy surge. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. He quickened his pace, driving his devil-cock into the very core of her pleasure center. Half-sobbing, half-laughing, she let out a throaty scream as the cascade of shimmering ecstasy exploded through every part of her.

He wasn’t far behind. Braced on his powerful arms, features clenched with determination, he delivered several more rapid thrusts to finish the job. Suddenly, he let out a muffled roar. His entire body went rigid, trembling as the shock waves coursed through him.

Sweat dripping from his chest and forehead, he slowly lowered himself on top of her, kissed her face, her lips. His eyes were like polished coins, the pupils large and engulfing. He rolled over onto his right side and peered at her with that sardonic, half-smile. “So, whadaya think of me now?”

Her head was still spinning, her body tingling from the aftershock. Oh, yes, he was a demon. But he had taken her to paradise. With a deeply sated sigh, she reached up and caressed the pointed contour of his ear. “You learned to do that watching porn?”

He jerked his head back with a look of feigned insult. “What, you don’t think a guy like me can get his share of action?”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Grinning, she passed her hand over the strange geometric design imprinted into the skin over his right shoulder. “Good god, Red, if the female population at large knew about you…knew about this…” Her fingers slid down his torso and abdomen, encircling the marvelous digit of delight that was once again growing hard to her touch. “You wouldn’t be able to beat them off with a pitchfork.”

“Lemme tell ya something, sweetheart. All those assignments I’ve been sent on around the world…” He rolled over, pinning her beneath him. “I didn’t spend all my time chasing boogiemen.” Reaching between her legs, he gave her clit head a tweak.

A jolt of pleasure shot through her. She pressed her wet muff against the hard, throbbing presence at his groin. “I don’t care where you learned it,” she whispered. “Just so long as I get to reap the benefits.”

Tracing a path around her breast with his finger, he chuckled. “If you think it’s great now, baby, wait’ll you see what I can do with my tail.”

The End

Part Two