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Makoto throws himself on the divan, painting the picture of a petulant child when he raises his head to gaze at J, chin resting on the demon’s lap.
J hardly moves, but he exudes a smug aura. His eyes stay transfixed on the book he’s currently reading, Makoto’s display aside.
Makoto huffs out a breath. J answers with a little chuckle, but says nothing still.
Bastard.
“J,” Makoto calls, whines, already defeated before the game could begin. “J!”
J snaps the book closed and finally graces Makoto with his gaze. “Clingy today, Mako-chan?” down comes a finger, stroking through Makoto’s hair, curling a strand around his slender digit. “Adorable.”
“You’re supposed to ask me what I want,” Makoto grumbles, unconsciously tilting his head into J’s hand. Not a particularly terrible action; minor it may be, perhaps ineffective, but surely, little gestures like these, acceptance and need of his master’s affection work towards his goal of making the demon fall in love with him.
Or, perhaps, he’s just deluding himself. Gritting his teeth, Makoto pushes those thoughts out. He isn’t that weak-willed.
“Fine, fine,” J laughs, radiance incarnate. His lips curve up, and his eyes twinkle with amusement. “What does my dear Mako-chan want from me?”
Flush blooming on his cheeks, Makoto refuses to avert his eyes. “A reward. You promised.”
“Ah? And what have you done to warrant one?” J inquiries. “Let alone, a promise…?”
“Not from recently,” Makoto admits, burying the lower half of his face against J’s thigh, voice slightly muffled. J’s smile grows; he’s clearly intrigued. “You said… for my first reward…” he trails off, the ire in his veins not only for the demon above him, but to himself, as well, for still clinging to something so… so juvenile.
“Ah-hah! Getting violated by a demon until you get pregnant? Mako-chan, do you still want to see if you can give birth to a demon child? Your limbs useless, your stomach torn apart, head torn from your neck…” J remembers, just as clearly as Makoto does. Makoto makes a move to nod, but J puts a hand on his head, shakes his own, and tuts.
“Such a greedy little thing. Mako-chan, have you forgotten already? Your memory is so feeble! The reward was granted. And you’ve given me no reason as to why I should reward you, now, tempting as it is.”
“By Fjord,” Makoto complains. “Not you.”
J grins, fangs on full display. Oh, how many times has Makoto jerked off to the mental image of those teeth ripping him apart?
“I wanted it to be you. ” But, of course, J had never explicitly said who was to be the one who did it. Makoto hardly considered it a reward during, too.
J cups his face, lifting it off his lap. “Aw, Mako-chan, were you disappointed? In my eagerness, I would have broken your beautiful new body…” Studying Makoto’s expression, J licks his lips. “But that’s what you’re after, isn’t it? Aah, you’ve grown into a splendid masochist.”
Makoto cannot struggle against J’s grip. Not when those thumbs caress his cheeks so sweetly, even if J’s claws leave cuts in tender skin. “Is it, Mako-chan?”
Makoto swallows, and nods.
Then J’s gaze turns away, and Makoto’s impatience gnaws at him.
“What shall I do? You’ve hardly made any progress recently, and stayed cooped up… have you wanted this so much that you couldn’t think of anything else?”
Yes.
Makoto does not say it aloud, but J surely read that on his face. It infuriated Makoto to no end; imagery of what could be if it had been J instead of Fjord, the idea of being bred by J, the anxiety of not knowing whether such a thing was even possible, consumed his every waking thought.
If J wanted to see progress towards his own doom, then he should take responsibility, damnit!
J laughs.
Ah.
Makoto must’ve said that aloud. He sighs, hardening his gaze and steeling himself. A change in approach is required. “I can’t think of anything else. Anyone else. Breed me, J.” A sharp inhale, pleading eyes. “ Please.”
J snickers, and lowers his head, pressing his lips to Makoto’s forehead. “Hmmm, fine. Since you insist. My Mako-chan has been pretty diligent, hasn’t he? And so honest, too~”
Bastard! He’d intended to fulfill it from the start! Did he simply want to hear Makoto beg for it first?!
With a laugh and a wink, Makoto is swept off the couch, carried bridal style in J’s arms. Slender though he may be, the demon could easily lift a minotaur without breaking a sweat, Makoto reckons.
“Comfortable?” J asks, shifting Makoto around. Makoto hums, and J’s smile blooms into a wicked grin. “Relish it. When we’re through, you’ll hardly feel anything at all… no take-backsies, Mako-chan!”
The brief shift in J’s demeanor and tone sends a shiver through Makoto and fuck, fuck, he’s excited. Boldly, he grins up at his target, his undoing, his love, and lounges in J’s arms, all his blood already rushing to his crotch.
“Make good on it, J .”
Hugging one of J’s lavish pillows on his already outrageously ostentatious bed, Makoto tries to swallow down his excitement, but he finds he cannot be anything but honest around J.
Infuriating. Makoto sometimes wonders why he was so keen to spend so much time apart from J when he was practically aching to return, the internal wars so fierce that Makoto often got this close to demanding K change into his brother and fuck him.
But it wouldn’t be real.
It would never compare.
Even though there were days when Makoto dreaded returning home, once he was in J’s embrace… he could hardly deny himself all that built up throughout his trips.
But all that doesn’t make J any less infuriating. He’s stark naked, while J takes his sweet, sweet time undressing, those wings of his fluttering enticingly. Makoto wants to devour them, wants to worship them, wants to do both at the same time.
“Liking what you see, Mako-chan?” J purrs, slowly approaching the bed. Off is his blouse, but his pants are merely unbuttoned. Makoto’s tongue darts out to wet his dry lips.
Of course he does.
“Yes,” he admits, but frowns, staring at J’s pants. Makoto is fully hard already, but J shows no signs of arousal. Makoto purses his lips, that same petulance from earlier returning to his face. “Take those off already.”
“Such a demanding little brat,” J croons, hooking a clawed finger through the waistband of his pants. “Without patience, how are you ever to best me? Temper tantrums… ah, who am I to say, you’re utterly adorable when you’re so pouty, I could drag this out forever.”
“I’ve been patient!” Makoto protests, holding the pillow tighter to his chest. His cock is painfully hard, and he aches for J’s touch, be it gentle or cruel.
“Yes, yes, you have, my sweet Mako-chan. But you couldn’t hold out any longer, could you?” There’s mockery in J’s demeanor, despite the kindness on which his words ride. J’s right. Makoto’s patience… it needs work.
Desperately so.
Just looking at J, it proves nigh impossible for Makoto to keep his hands to himself, to keep his wild fantasies in check.
Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, Makoto grumbles incoherently, cussing J out in his head.
It feels like a lifetime before J’s pants are finally off, and his monstrous cock springs free. Makoto can’t not look, but he’s staring so reverently, that he’s almost drooling. Makoto furiously wipes his mouth, much to J’s apparent delight.
“You tempt me so, Mako-chan. How I want to leave you like this for hours, days, weeks, refusing you even if you beg me…”
Makoto’s treacherous cock gives an interested twitch. He glares, but says nothing, as that would fuel J’s resolve. Surely… surely J aches for him just as much as he aches for J. But Makoto’s desires still burn too bright, and J is the sun that scorches him.
“Ahaha! Ah, just look at you… you can’t bear that.” J finally, finally gets on the damn bed, tail swishing behind him as he crawls over to Makoto and cages the smaller man in. “My sweet, adorable Mako-chan. You’re still leagues away from being my undoing, you poor thing.”
“I know,” Makoto huffs, hands balling to fists. J’s long, pointed tongue licks at his jawline, sending another rush of heat to Makoto’s cock. “But I will. I’ll devour you. Your end will be me, and me alone!”
That possessiveness… J grins, music to his ears. “I look forward to it, Mako-chan. Now, for your reward…”
Finally! The bastard made him wait long enough.
Makoto throws away the pillow and surges up to capture J’s lips in a rough, desperate kiss, recklessly flinging an arm around J’s shoulders. J’s tongue prods, and Makoto dutifully parts his lips.
J is thorough, invading every available inch of Makoto’s mouth, greedily lapping up Makoto’s moans and whines and fuck his cock is so hard, he tries to buck his hips, but J’s body weight is suddenly on him, restricting all movement. His cock is trapped against J’s, and it takes everything Makoto has not to just bust right then and there. With a growl, he grasps onto his slipping determination, and bites down on J’s tongue with the intent to tear. J shows no surprise; he just hums, firmly grasping Makoto’s face and holding it in place as if to say, Eat up.
Makoto tears right through J’s tongue, the taste of the demon’s blood so divine it feels like he could ascend to Heaven. But he’s down here, in Hell, trapped under his obsession, and there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Staring J right in the eyes, Makoto makes a show of swallowing his tongue, slow, eager, and lewd.
When the ecstasy fades, J’s already regenerated himself a new tongue. “Did I taste good, Mako-chan?”
Makoto nods, offering J a smile that is anything but innocent. “As always.”
You never disappoint.
He wonders, idly, if that sentiment is echoed back at Makoto himself.
Perceive me, already!
He draws a shuddering breath. The look on J’s face is telling; he’s feasting on the tumultuous emotions raging inside his precious pet, and he is all too content to draw it out until Makoto explodes. With a huff, Makoto bucks his hips up, hoping to offset J for even just a fraction of a second. The stimulation makes him groan, but no noise leaves J, and his face stays perfectly neutral, a devilishly handsome smile plastered on his lips.
“Such an eager boy,” J says, and slowly, very slowly, he slides down Makoto’s body, until his face is about level with Makoto’s ass. J licks his lips and Makoto’s cock weeps, knowing it will continue to be untouched until J’s had his fill of tormenting Makoto.
Wasn’t this supposed to be a reward?!
“I’m going to take my time, Mako-chan,” J says plain, a purr to his lilt. “Be patient for me, alright? Otherwise, I might reconsider this reward of yours… I can’t have you growing lazy on me, now.”
Damnit! Another lesson in disguise?! Is J seeking his own demise just as adamantly as Makoto is?!
But his train of thought comes to an abrupt halt when J’s tongue thrusts inside his hole, and having been so preoccupied in his own mind, Makoto cannot stifle the whimper that leaves him. His back arches ever so slightly off the bed, and he feels J smirk against his cheeks, though he never lets his smugness get the best of him, does not take even a mere moment to relish this, bathe in it, or tease him—J simply applies himself to the task of very vigorously rimming Makoto until the boy is writhing, held down by J’s hands.
As J goes deeper, Makoto barely has the lucidity to question how damned long that tongue of J’s even is, because the demon is far too good at what he does. He knows Makoto— his Makoto—both inside and out, and fuck, fuck! Makoto belatedly realizes he’s drooling, and furiously wipes his mouth.
“J—J!” he moans, because it’s all he can do, all that’s on his mind, encompassing his entire existence just because J’s tongue thrusts relentlessly against his prostate and then deeper still, and forces Makoto to remain still.
It’s agonizing. Makoto tries to bite his hand, to suppress the pleas that bubble up, but he’s no match for J. He’s begging, soon. Pleading with the demon to take him, to breed him, as he promised. A flicker across J’s vision betrays an almost sadistic twinkle intermingled with pure lust, and fuck, there’s something so deliciously debauched about that gaze that pushes Makoto over the edge, sharp fangs tearing through the flesh of his hand and cracking bone as his whole body seizes up and spasms, overcome with a feeling that rips the air from his lungs and lulls his mind to a different place entirely. He’s arching up off the bed, into J’s embrace—the demon’s pulled away from his ass, and just as Makoto thinks J’s about to hold him tenderly, subconsciously craving the touch as his mind is still piecing itself back together, J pushes him back down, forcing Makoto’s legs further apart.
When he returns to reality, Makoto feels empty. He whines despite himself, wriggling his ass in an effort to entice J into fucking him. J merely laughs, regarding Makoto as a cute animal performing its antics to get attention from its owner.
“Ah, Mako-chan, you want me that bad, hmm? I guess it can’t be helped, then.” Yet, J is still groping him leisurely, teasing his hole with but the tip of a finger, and Makoto can hear him licking his lips.
“ J,” he pleads, breathless, crying out in frustration as J swiftly pulls his hand back when Makoto bucks his hips. “Please, please, you promised—”
J chuckles softly. “Did I, now?” Lining his thick cock up with Makoto’s ass, J slowly but inexorably pushes in. Makoto gasps, straining as he’s stretched to the absolute limit without any lubricants to aid J’s insertion. It hurts, but it hurts so good . His eyes threaten to roll back, but with the grasp of a hand, claws digging into the side of his face, J draws his gaze right back to him. “I don’t make a habit of wanting to seeing you suffer at my hands, but…” J begins, a wide grin nearly splitting his face in two. Makoto aches to reach up and caress those fangs, to have J bite off his hand and offer it to him, finger by finger. “But for your reward, Mako-chan, I’ll make an execption. If it is to hear you cry for me until you can’t anymore…” J trails off with a devious grin.
Oh, he’s every bit the sadist Makoto is. Perhaps even worse. Makoto wonders how much of his words are even true—he appears to enjoy dishing out pain as much as any other, but a little more… measured . His words, paired with that expression, send a chill down Makoto’s spine. Makoto huffs, and leans into that touch threatening to tear through his flesh. “Make me then, J. Make me cry for you.”
“Aha, so bold! You’re so cute when you put on that face, Mako-chan,” J purrs, but Makoto doesn’t get to retort, as the next moment, J slams his hips forward, forcing his cock inside. Makoto chokes on his words and his eyes blow wide, his body lurching off the soft mattress as the intrusion inside his ass tears straight through him.
Makoto feels as if he’s on the verge of bursting, and J keeps pushing. Deeper, rearranging Makoto’s internal organs with that smug smile ever plastered on his stupid, handsome face. Ragged pants leave Makoto, but he’s not hurting.
Well, he is , but now, that’s all part of the fun. Before, be it former clients or even the time J forced Fjord on him, Makoto only felt fright, pain, feelings that soon morphed into numbness as his time as a prostitute progressed. Here, with J, inside him, claiming him, Makoto feels that same spark as when J made him come inside his throat as a human reignited, and he moans, even if halfway through the sound he’s cut off by blood spurting from his throat. A grin creeps onto his face, fangs on full display, drool and blood alike dribbling down his chin. Claws dig deeper into his shoulders, into bone, and J reciprocates that feral grin of his, leaning down to devour Makoto’s mouth once again. It is J who dominates, and where he’s been gentle in the past, kisses as greetings and otherwise, now, he’s anything but kind. He mauls Makoto’s tongue, lips, tears it off like a savage, feral beast, the remains of flesh spit back out into Makoto’s mouth who hungrily swallows chunks of his own meat. It tastes nothing like J’s, but the experience in and of itself is utterly maddening.
Then, with a final thrust, J bottoms out, and Makoto is pretty sure that just ruptured his stomach, nevermind the organs under it. He cries out, wordlessly, J’s lips still on his mouth, warm tears welling up in his eyes.
Bliss. Pure, undiluted bliss. Time stands still as J adjusts, body bearing down on Makoto, his weight nearly crushing the boy’s legs as they’re forcibly folded against his chest. Makoto can do naught but stare at the visage of the demon on top, and fuck, he must look every part the wide-eyed, love-struck fool he feels like.
A moment of respite is all he’s given; a single breath, before J pulls back, the tip remaining inside, and with bruising force, slams back in.
Makoto screams.
J’s claws dig into his shoulders, holding him still. He looks every bit the devil that he is. Hair falling over his face, tickling Makoto’s skin as J leans in again, mere inches apart from Makoto’s lips, but never claims them. His breath wafts over Makoto’s skin, hot and so fucking enticing that Makoto is in sheer agony over not being able to reach up and kiss the other. Fuck, he wants. But his body is completely at J’s mercy, and the demon leans over, forcing Makoto’s legs over his shoulders, nearly folding the boy in half. Or maybe he’s already reached that point; the dull snap of bone within his legs barely even registers in Makoto’s mind as his body is utterly and completely ravaged by J, his wings fanning out and flapping to increase his already impossibly brutal speed.
Despite the pain, the blood, the pleasure, Makoto is utterly mesmerized by the sight of J. Wet hot tears from pleasure and pain alike roll down his face, but he cannot close his eyes, not when the demon above him paints such a magnificent picture, a sight that’s only for Makoto, an ethereal vision only he is privy to.
“Enjoying the view, Mako-chan?” J teases, and despite his brutal pace, there’s not a sign of any strain to his voice, his breathing perfectly measured, his expression composed. Makoto briefly wonders how fucked he must look like, and immediately wants to see that same expression on J’s face. One day, perhaps. But he hasn’t the brain to do anything but beg for his owner’s seed, his body wracked with orgasm after orgasm, his cock still rock-hard and J showing no signs of even approaching his own climax.
Makoto nods dumbly, and shakily reaches for one of J’s wrists. J curiously follows his movements, but does nothing to aid him. If anything, the force of his thrusts, the brutal, relentless pounding against Makoto’s internal organs only makes it all that more difficult for Makoto to guide J’s hand where he wants it—his throat. J rewards him with a feral grin, and there it is, however brief; that look that is so different from his composed self, that hunger in his eyes, the drip of saliva onto Makoto’s face, a flash of J’s own lust through all this.
“Haha… so very debauched,” J purrs, but the next instant, he shoves his fingers into the scar on Makoto’s throat, tearing open the gap, fingering flesh and blood. Makoto’s vision goes completely white; he struggles to keep looking at J, but he’s soon hushed by the demon, a deceptively gentle hand stroking his cheek while the other makes a complete mess of his neck. Hot, wet, liquid spills deep inside Makoto’s insides, and Makoto’s body catches on before his mind does; J came, and Makoto must have been the trigger. Was it his neck? Was it—
“Did you think I was done? Oh, Mako-chan… you’re not so naive anymore, are you?” J teasingly mocks, and Makoto, despite the onslaught of sensation, manages to flash his fangs at J, challenging him. No, they’re far from done here.
“M… More,” Makoto gets out, coughing up blood. J leans down to lick it off his lips. Imbued with strength borne out of pure desire to be bred by the object of his obsession, is world, Makoto winds his arms around J’s body, his grip brutal and unrelenting. “Don’t… don’t stop. Aaagh!”
“I wasn’t planning to~” J laughs pleasantly with a hint of possessive delight. “Mako-chan, I’m not stopping until you’re full. Until I’ve given you everything, and you’re forced to bear our offspring.”
Though his vision is blurry, Makoto’s eyes are alight with desire of his own, almost maniacal in his lust. A choked laugh leaves him, and a grin remains on his face. “Good, good, good, yes!” he’s babbling, and his words soon devolve into utter nonsense.
Makoto’s screams echo throughout the mansion well throughout the night, until his vocal chords give out, and fatigue claims him, knocking him out.
J makes good on his word; he does not stop, not even when his dear Mako-chan is already slumbering, pumping him full of come until morning comes. Only then does J pull out, regarding the wreck that is his precious Makoto with a self-satisfied smirk. Placing a hand on Makoto’s slightly swollen belly, J drifts off beside him, knowing that from this point on, Makoto will be entirely dependent on him, and bedridden for at least a few days.
Though this would delay Makoto’s plans significantly, threading this new path together… so long as the outcome remains the same, is it really so bad?