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“All intel.” Dove managed to worm his way so he was facing his captor, wings and all. “All, King of Hell.”

Trepidation ran through his veins as he let one finger trail down Melchom’s chest. This was fun, but he still vibrated, his heart racing, waiting for the moment when Melchom would pounce—when he’d be done with the playful teasing and waiting around.

“So brave of you,” Melchom hummed, “daring to go on this mission out in the open.”

“I am brave,” Dove breathed.

He lacked the patience the demon had in spades. He hadn’t kept that in mind when he forged this plan.

“I see that.” Dove felt Melchom slide inside his head.

He was probably checking in that he was okay with the public setting, because he cared more about Dove than he liked to admit.

“No one comes in here, and we taught Gaz to divert everyone in a three mile radius. I think she’s kind of looking forward to someone walking by.”

“I bet.” Melchom chuckled before he was frowning. “Who’s we?”

“Beel.” Dove rolled his eyes when Melchom started to grow agitated. “He helped me with the shield to set this whole thing up, so be nice.”

“Are you ordering me, tiny Dove?”

“Well, I… if you put it like that?” It was so hard not to laugh. “And I kind of promised him he’d face no consequences, so…”

Melchom grumbled something he didn’t catch. Dove guessed it didn’t matter.

“Take it down.”

“That’s not fun.”

“Take it down,” Melchom repeated. The next thing he knew, Dove’s back was hitting a tree, the demon pressed against him. “Take it down, and let me fulfill all the fantasies you’ve had about this game.”

Dove guessed he couldn’t argue with that logic. “Fine. But I’m gonna rate your performance now.”

“I dare you to try.”

Dove would try. The issue was that he had no words left. His throat definitely wouldn’t work right to let anything out.

Melchom had scratched his back raw, nails piercing his skin each time he tore one of those fake wings out, spreading them in a makeshift circle around them. They looked pretty, and it made him tear up in a weird way because Melchom knew he liked pretty things.

Just as much as he liked being overpowered and fucked with little to no finesse until he was crying and begging for a stop he didn’t want. Melchom would stop if there was the smallest concern that he meant it.

There was not one fiber in his being that didn’t want to feel this for a week. He didn’t even want Melchom to heal the scratches and his dirtied hair—not yet, at least.

“I don’t think you’ve gathered enough intel yet.” Melchom grunted. He too would be sweating if he wasn’t feasting on more energy than he was spending. Dove’s body spasmed as Melchom shifted him to his knees and elbows. “I think you need to be milked completely dry before you can make a proper assessment.”

Dove panted, a groan escaping him as his hole was breached again. He thought he’d come three times already, each time more painful than the previous one.

Four, Melchom’s voice in his head was a shock to his system. But did you think I’d have any mercy for an angel?

There was clear hatred in his voice. Dove shivered.

No, he thought, projecting his voice to the bridge. It didn’t work as well as when Melchom spoke in his head, but Dove liked to think he was getting better. It’s our anniversary. I want you to feast. It’s my gift to you.

He knew Melchom was already doing it. Even if he was fucked almost daily, the demon’s strength, the way he played with his head, never letting him predict his next move… Those things would always send his heart racing, put him in overdrive as survival instincts kicked in.

Dove loved it, loved that his body would never get used to living with a royal predator.

Melchom bottomed out—again—with a groan that intertwined with Dove’s sob.