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Selfish

Ambrosius

D ogwood.

The word had settled into the more obsessive parts of Ambrosius’ mind.

A worm finding a corpse to nestle in as it ate away at its host. Devouring flesh and decay, leaving nothing in its wake.

Even as Ambrosius offered his cards to an unsuspecting young woman, the demon couldn’t get past that smell.

Curdling milk had lingered around Gwen like a perfume.

Not just any scent, but one Ambrosius and many a demon had grown to detest over the long, cold centuries of their existence.

That particular smell held the tiniest note of blood and teeth, there was no mistaking it.

Perhaps Ambrosius had been foolish to believe Gwen would be safe as a monster.

His power flowed through her veins, something that would deter most from interfering.

Even if a creature of the night mistook her for a human, they would sense that she had been touched by evil.

Touched by him, and that should have been enough.

Or so the demon believed, as he wished his newest patron a good day and fled to the small room inside the Antiquarium.

Dim candlelight ignited as he propped his cane against a wall.

He maneuvered the cello in front of him, drawing the bow in his hand as he sat in the humble chair behind the instrument.

His fingers were quick to find a familiar rhythm as his mind continued to torment him with a single question.

Who?

Who dared touch his warlock without his notice, without care of the consequence?

Ambrosius was old—old enough to have enemies beyond those instrumental to the creation of the Antiquarium.

Most of them were personal, as demons weren’t concerned with old feuds the way more physical creatures were.

Vampires, werewolves, sirens, volants—all of them were set in traditions that most demons found repetitive and boring.

But fae on the other hand …

oh, Ambrosius had many thoughts when it came to those sort of monsters.

All of those thoughts were murderous in nature, perhaps even torturous, if he was so inclined.

Pretentious perfectionists, the lot of them.

Not to mention, arrogant in a way that even put Ambrosius’ ego to shame.

The demon had thought his dealings with such spirits had ended a long time ago, but it appeared they were lingering as well.

Like a weed that won’t die, Ambrosius thought with a snarl.

The demon was so preoccupied by his revulsion he failed to see the new presence in the room until dancing lights penetrated his vision.

Ambrosius continued to play, but his eyes trailed from the reflecting glitter and up toward bare skin.

Skin that Ambrosius had become intimate with only just that same morning.

He stared at her from beneath a furrowed brow, mouth still set in displeasure as he continued to play.

Ambrosius had done his best to wipe the scent of dogwood leaves from her presence, but he could still smell it.

A taunt that dared Ambrosius to find the owner of such a disgusting fragrance.

“Why are you here, Gwendolyn?” Ambrosius asked as he continued to play.

How she even found his room was a mystery to him.

By all counts, it should have been impossible for her to find, even as a warlock.

Ambrosius wasn’t in the habit of allowing anyone into his space without his permission.

“Looking for the asshole who left me, post orgasm and with a ton of questions,” Gwen replied as she slowly skated toward him.

“I told you, anything you want to know is in the scroll,” Ambrosius retorted.

“Now, stop bothering me—”

Gwen snatched the bow, aiming the end that had been held gingerly in his hand toward his neck.

“Yeah, I’m having trouble with reading right now,” Gwen explained as she used the bow to lift his chin.

“So, why don’t you help me, hmm?”

Ambrosius could have easily snatched the bow back, and briefly thought of manifesting his extra limbs to subdue her.

But there was something in her eyes—a confidence that had been lacking since he met her—that drew his attention.

Slowly, Ambrosius positioned the cello next to his chair.

He followed Gwen’s direction as she gestured to the bed and sat at the end.

Ambrosius eyed the bow that Gwen once again aimed at his neck like it was a dagger.

He wished it was.

“Ever since you came into my life, everything has been fucked. Today my reflection moved on its own and it tried to talk to me. I’m honestly questioning my sanity, though I’m sure you're just jazzed about that, huh?” Gwen licked her bottom lip, little tongue gleaming in the soft candlelight.

“How a haunting manifests is dependent on the individual,” Ambrosius said. “I told you, all I did was give you a push into the unknown. How things play out is on—”

“If you are honestly feeding me some line about how all of this is my fault, I will find a way to stab you with this thing,” Gwen threatened, pressing the end against his skin. “I’m not fucking happy about how this happened—”

“Obviously—”

“ But, I’m willing to work with you, you fucking prick, if you would just—”

“You could have saved us a lot of trouble if you—”

“Shut up or I’ll make you, I swear—”

“You can certainly try, but I—”

Gwen tackled him to the bed, the bow clattering to the floor.

She wasn’t particularly strong, as Ambrosius had discovered from their previous encounters. Gwen pulled on his hair hard enough to hurt, but not enough to do serious damage. Yet, he fell back against the sheets easily, hands finding the small of her back as she furiously kissed him.

Ambrosius greedily ran his hands past the crochet skirt and to her thighs. She was hot, a flush dampening her skin. Gwen’s tongue pushed insistently into his mouth, sliding along his own with needy strokes. She gripped onto the lapel of his vest tightly and coiled against him.

This wasn’t slow, but rather desperate. Ambrosius could feel it in the way Gwen went easily under his hands. The way she gasped against his mouth as he slipped beneath her skirt to cup her ass, canting her hips down. There was no way she couldn’t feel his cock pressed against her entrance, separated by so few layers of clothing. Clothing Ambrosius could slice his way through if he so wanted. One of his fingers quickly became more claw-like, the tip sliding against Gwen’s skin before coming to—

“I spent an entire day making this outfit. If you cut it off, I’ll leave,” Gwen warned. “I’ll leave, and never come back.”

The threat sounded less convincing as Gwen rocked her hips down, causing Ambrosius’ jaw to drop as teasing pleasure spread. Ambrosius was never one to back down from a challenge, but his desire for her outweighed his need to go against her. They both wanted this, so Ambrosius’ claw became human once again.

“What would you—”

“I told you, you’re gonna stop talking,” Gwen said, pausing to nip at his neck. “I get to do the talking now.”

Her hands came down, undoing his belt and opening the front of his pants. Ambrosius bit his lip at the first touch of her hand as Gwen pulled him free. An unusual weakness, this need for her touch. He watched her eyes dart toward his cock and when she gasped, Ambrosius searched her face in confusion.

“What?” He asked.

Was there something in his human form not to her liking? Or had he slipped into his more demonic form without notice?

“Nothing, it’s just…” Gwen licked her lips. “You’re a lot bigger than I was expecting. ”

Ambrosius blinked, “What—”

“ Daddy ,” Gwen said with the familiar mocking tone and a squeeze to his cock. “What did I just say about you talking?”

Curse him for eternity, but Ambrosius groaned. Her hands were human and completely harmless, but his skin burned beneath her touch. Her corruption was as seductive as any siren’s call, stronger than any vampire enthrallment. Arousal grew with every little move of her delicate fingers, and curse her, he was foolishly weak to it.

“Good,” she said with a pleased sound. “As I was saying, I think I like being a monster … could enjoy it even. It feels better than being human. And I might even be open to working with you…”

All of it sounded like music to his ears. Ambrosius had only wanted a warlock to work with him, it wasn’t too much to ask. It also didn’t hurt that Gwen kept stroking his cock as she talked. Her thumb circled the crown with an ease that implied she was a more experienced lover.

The thought of others she had touched made something hungry and jealous grow wild inside. His hands moved and settled onto her hips, feeling the material of her skirt ride up. None of them mattered anymore. Gwen was here, her hot hands touching him.

“But I can’t just be some underling. I’m not going to play Igor to your Dr. Frankenstein . We have to come to some kind of mutual agreement.”

This olive branch she was extending, in all honesty, sounded too human. Ambrosius didn’t need her compromise, he needed her compliance . He needed her devotion, her utter submission and fealty. If he didn’t have that, then there was no way she would ever help him the way he truly needed her to .

“A warlock is made for one reason, my bittersweet. They exist entirely for their—”

Gwen smothered his words with her mouth, biting his lower lip just shy of harm. Ambrosius wished she would, but he wasn’t entirely certain she would understand that particular desire. Despite what she thought, he had been uncharacteristically patient and thoughtful of her humanity. Well, as much a demon like him could be.

Her hand left him, maneuvering her backpack off her shoulders. The movement drew his eyes to her breasts, and the lovely arched display as she let the backpack fall to the floor in a heap. He had yet to touch her there, not properly with bare skin. That train of thought would have to wait as Gwen fell back against him, pressing her mouth to his again.

“I guess I’ll just have to find a way to make you shut up, huh?” Gwen sighed against his lips.

Ambrosius eyed her with a curious expression. In his distraction, he hadn’t noticed Gwen had slid her hand to her underwear and pulled the material aside. It wasn’t until the heat of her entrance made contact with his cock that Ambrosius realized her full intentions.

The demon tightened his hold on her hips, a wild look in his eyes as he caught Gwen’s gaze. Her hand held the base of his cock again, the other fallen onto his chest. She was wet, incredibly wet and warm with arousal, but that didn’t mean—

“Gwendolyn…” Ambrosius sighed.

They needed to stop. He would never relent when it came to the terms of the contract. As much as he enjoyed her—and she was fucking enjoyable at this particular moment—Ambrosius would never sacrifice his goals for her. He wouldn’t change just to suit her whimsy .

Better to stop before the line is crossed.

Ambrosius licked his lips, “If we do this, we— fucking hell after! ”

The infuriating temptress had abruptly pressed down, engulfing the tip of his cock in her cunt. Gwen was tight around him, her warmth a heady drug that went unmatched to all other vices. Ambrosius clenched his teeth so hard he could almost feel his jaw crack.

“ Oh ,” she whimpered as she took more of him. “Oh, fuck— fuck you. Oh, I hate you so goddamn much.”

Every curse was a seductive cry as Gwen tightened her fist into his vest. Ambrosius could do little but hold still for her, hands gripping hard enough that he could feel her hip bone. She was beautiful, her twisted expression caught between pleasure and disdain. And when she was finally flush against him, Ambrosius marveled at the lewd sight of them together. He was practically panting like an animal as she trembled around him. All thoughts of ending this were long gone and in their place was mayhem.

“It’s not fair how good you feel,” Gwen whimpered as she steadied herself. “It’s not fair that I wake up and don’t feel this when I do. If you’re gonna haunt me in my dreams, the least you could do is fuck me awake.”

Before Ambrosius could even think about answering, Gwen rolled her hips. Her insides had felt like bliss around his fingers and tongue, but here, the word couldn’t do her justice. All words failed him as to how incredible she felt, and how frustrating it was that he was so weak to it.

Weak to her.

Fuck.

Whatever discomfort Gwen initially had seemed to dissipate with every turn of her hips. Every wet slide made her jolt, her muscles taut as she arched helplessly. Desperation scratched at his insides with the need to have her below him. But Gwen was a sight his eyes— all of them —couldn’t get enough of. Ambrosius could do little but bear witness to her beauty, her fury, her offering . And whenever her lashes fluttered, he’d catch a glimpse of those amber eyes, and it wasn’t enough.

Ambrosius needed more.

The demon pulled himself up by the center of his chest, spine curling as he came to a sitting position in a matter of seconds. Gwen nearly fell backward, if not for Ambrosius’ hands curling around her hips. He was closer to her in this position, felt himself shift inside of her. Gwen’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, and she blinked at him in surprise. Her pupils were so large, her eyes were almost like his.

“Don’t stop now, my bittersweet. Be a good girl for me,” he purred, stealing a kiss as he bucked up. “If you’re good for me, I’ll make sure you feel this when you wake from your nightmares.”

Gwen let out a cry at the promise, gripping his shoulders tightly as she began to move again. Here, he could reach her with his mouth. Could slide his tongue along the curve of her neck, feel her breasts against him. She panted against his ear as she snapped her hips at a near bruising pace. Her teeth caught his ear, sending a pulse through him. The ink on his skin convulsed and Ambrosius’ skull began to split from the pressure of his horns.

“That’s it,” Ambrosius growled. “Take what you want from me. Use me , Gwen. ”

She cursed against his ear, turning his head roughly to smash their mouths together. The moment his tongue brushed hers, Ambrosius felt her come undone. Gwen practically wailed into his mouth, pressing frantically against him. Her fingernails bit into his skin, thighs tightening around his hips as her cunt contracted around him.

When she began to grow weak, Ambrosius guided her hips against him. It didn’t take long, as she was still fluttering around him. His horns ruptured from his forehead, jutting out toward the ceiling as he pumped everything he had into her. It left them both panting as Ambrosius took the brunt of her weight with him, falling back to the bed.

It was over.

They had done it.

“Fuck,” she huffed against his neck.

“Yeah,” Ambrosius whispered into the crown of her head. “You’ll never be rid of me now.”

“Like a nightmare.”