Damien has a filthy mouth, even for a monster. Not to say that any of your classmates are PG, but where they drop an f-bomb now and then, Damien's got an 1812 Overture of expletives that he throws down on the regular.
It’s a common thing to hear him roaring curses down the corridor as he beats the shit out of whatever animal, vegetable, or mineral has pissed him off this time. He's so good at it that sometimes Scott mistakes it for cheerleading and joins in. It’s the only time you’ll ever hear bad words dropping from that good boy’s mouth.
The thing people don't know about Damien (but probably assume) is that his cursing doesn't stop going when he hits the bedroom.
You're making out in his room after prom, both high on the adrenaline of the school-wide fistfight you just won.
“Kiss me like you mean it, asshole,” he gasps as you break apart. Not one to back down from a challenge, you shove him down onto the bed and smash your lips against his. People joke about battling tongues, but that’s literally what you’re doing right now. Good thing you’ve been doing your tongue squats. It's a close competition, but you think you're winning.
Unfortunately, you're so focussed on your kissing technique that you let the rest of your stance get sloppy. In an instant, Damien changes tactics and flips you. As he straddles your hips, he triumphantly drags his shirt over his head and crows, “That was weak! C’mon, I know you can put up more of a fight than that.”
Is losing such a bad position to be in? You're turning that thought around in your head, but then Damien rolls his hips down on yours and purrs, “Unless you're already worn out? I thought you had better stamina than that, noob.” You realize that lying back isn't an option, because you're obviously going to have to fuck this boy cross-eyed.
And hey, if love is war, then you're down to fight dirty. You reach up and feather your fingers down Damien's ribs, because while his greatest weaknesses are blessed items and fire extinguishers, tickling is still high up on the list.
“F-fuck! No fair!” Damien shouts, batting at your hands, but he’s taken a critical hit. You've soon rolled him under you again, bracing a hand on either side of his head.
“Who’s worn out, huh? I was just getting my battle plan ready.” You laugh as you mouth at his neck. His pulse point thrums under your lips, and you catch it between your teeth, sucking until you've left a purpling welt behind. “You fit really well between my thighs. Maybe I should just keep you here, huh?”
“I'd fit even better if there weren't clothes in the way, dumbass,” Damien gripes, but tips his head back to let you in closer. Your nose is pressed into the soft skin behind his ear, and you breathe in the soft, lingering scents of smoke and gasoline. You flashback to your car crash of a prom entrance, and damn, this whole night has been so hot.
“But it's so fun to tease you.” You roll one of his nipples with your thumb, coaxing it to a firm peak. “I’m one of those people who likes to take their time unwrapping their presents.”
“Why do that, when you can just tear them open and get to the good shit?” Damien twists his fingers in the front of your top, and if he’s going to treat your clothes like gift wrap, you decide that now's the time to strip. You do kind of like this outfit, even though it's singed at the edges now. (Especially because it's singed at the edges, if you're being honest.)
Luckily, all it takes is a pointed roll of your eyes and a few muttered words to vanish the clothes off both your bodies. You're so glad that you learned a spell for that in class last week. It makes the logistics of undressing much more efficient than fumbling with buttons and zippers.
Damien hisses, “How do you even make being a nerd hot?”, as his cock brushes against your belly.
“Nerds are always hot,” you say imperiously. You slide your naked body down his, making sure to rub as much of your skin against him as you can, because you're a dirty tease.
“Now I know you're just mouthing off, fucknut. How are nerds hot? Nerds are the anti-hot.” You can tell that Damien is just talking shit to cover how turned on he is. Bluster can't hide the bright pink blush flushing over his cheeks.
“Uh, who's the fucknut here?” You raise an eyebrow. “Nerds are hot because you learn all sorts of things when you read the right books. For example, since we're talking about mouthing off…”
Being a monster has its perks, namely: compared to devouring full-grown humans in one gulp, deep-throating is easy mode.
All the air in Damien's lungs wheezes out when you swallow his dick down. You bob a couple times, then pull back just long enough to say, “Wow, you sounded a lot like one of Scott's squeeze toys there.”
“Fuck, do you have to bring up Airbud right now?” Damien flings an arm over his eyes. “I'm trying to enjoy the fuckin’ killer head you're giving me, but all I can think about now is gnawing.”
You probably shouldn't bully him so much, but Damien makes such cute faces when you do it that you can't stop yourself.
“Aw, poor baby. Promise I won't use my teeth unless you ask really, really nicely.”
You give his dick a sloppy kiss, and yeah, you do let your fangs skim against him just to make him squirm. Then, you wink and say, “I want this inside me, after all. Can't do that if I'm too rough.”
Damien tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you up to him, growling, “Shit, I can't tell if I wanna punch you or fuck you. You drive me crazy!”
He kisses you with reckless abandon, fucking your mouth with his tongue, and it's wet and messy and perfect. You moan encouragement into his mouth and slide your fingers into yourself as you straddle his legs, whispering a little charm to ease the way and make sure you're slick enough for what comes next. You weren't lying about wanting him inside.
In between kisses, you gasp, “Stay still, okay? I don't wanna lose my balance and break your dick or something.”
Damien growls, but you can tell he's doing his best to keep his hips from bucking as you lift up and guide him into you.
You've barely fit the tip inside of yourself, but the stretch is already so much better than your fingers. You whine as you feel the blunt head of his cock pop into you, halting your descent as you try to get used to the new feeling.
“You ok?” Damien sounds strained, and you can feel him trembling as you brace your hands on his shoulders.
“Yeah, I just need a sec.” You brush your knuckles over his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. “I just- if I go too fast, I'm gonna come in seconds.”
You can see Damien's pupils blow out with desire as you say that. “Just do it. I wanna see you come.”
You bite your lip. “I don't want this to end so soon.”
“It won't.” Damien cuts you off by grabbing one of your hands in his and bringing it up to kiss your palm, unexpectedly tender as he says the most romantic words you've heard in your life:“If you don't come at least twice tonight, I'm not doing my fucking job.”
You're not sure what to do with the rush of emotion that swells in your body, so you decide to overwhelm it with physical sensation and promptly sink down on Damien's lap as far as you can go.
Both of you curse as your inner walls clamp down on the thick fullness of him, and your head swims. Damien’s hips jerk up into you and you gasp, instinctively bracing yourself on his shoulders.
It looks like it's taking a lot of effort for him to ask, and something in your chest is going wobbly again, so you say, “It’s okay, keep going. You're not gonna break me with your dick,” overwhelmed, but unwilling to slow down.
You start off without much coordination, but eventually the two of you manage to fall into a kind of rhythm. Damien fucks up into you with short little thrusts that you meet with a tilt of your hips. It rubs him right up against your sweet spot, and you feel yourself pushing closer and closer to the edge.
“Oh fuck, I'm gonna come,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you try to hold it back.
“Do it,” Damien chants under his breath, “Give it up for me, baby, wanna see you come all over my dick.”
With a wail, you let the pleasure crest, letting your climax roll through your body. You clutch at Damien's shoulders, muffling your voice by shoving your face into his neck. He keeps fucking you through the aftershocks, petting your hair as you come down from the high.
“Fuck, that was good. Oh fuck. You asshole.”
Damien pushes your hair out of your face when you raise your head. “You're ok?”
“Yeah.” You laugh weakly. “You’ve only ruined me for other men, it's cool.”
He looks so proud of himself when you say that.
You giggle and tip your head to kiss his jaw, murmuring, “You’re so stupid.”
It takes a couple more seconds for you to catch your breath, but Damien is still hard inside you when you feel ready to keep going.
“You should keep fucking me,” you drawl, giving your hips a shimmy and laughing when he goes cross-eyed at the sensation. “C'mon, it's your turn. And who knows? Maybe I'll come again. You've got a pretty okay dick.”
“Only okay?” Damien holds you close, then rolls the both of you so that he's looming over you again.
“What, you think you can do better?” You lift your arms to twine them around his neck. “Got the walk to match that talk?”
“Definitely.” He gets his hands on your hips and lifts, changing the angle of how you fit together. He seems to swell inside you when he does that, dick curving deliciously. Wait, no, you feel ridges that definitely weren't there before.
You must be making a really dumb face, because Damien’s smirk is extra smug. “Demonic shapeshifting. I got, like, nine dicks, noob. I can go for days.”
Maybe it's stupid of you, but your whole relationship is built on not backing down, so you lock eyes with him and say, “Days, huh? Prove it.”
You toss your head with a daring smile wide on your face that Damien bends to kiss away. “Oh, you know I'm gonna fucking give it to you now.”
Damien fucks like he fights, hard and fast and unrelenting. When his hips start moving, he doesn't bother with any sort of slow build up. He just goes. It's all you can do to get your arms around his shoulders and hold on.
His back is all heated skin and hard muscle rippling under your palms. You clutch at him with your fingers, scrambling for purchase, and feel him hiss when your nails bite into his shoulders.
“Sorry, was that bad?” you ask, because his hips had stuttered, but he shakes his head.
“No, just a surprise.” He leans down to nip at your jaw, breath blowing warm in your ear as he adds, “Really fucking hot, actually.”
So when he starts again in earnest, you let your nails dig in until you feel welts starting to rise. If he wants you to mark him up, you're not going to half ass it.
“Yes yes yes,” you moan, voice breaking as you urge him on, and holy fuck, but where some people start cursing when they get close, Damien does the opposite, growling beautiful words into your neck as he fucks you with vicious abandon.
“I wanna make the taste of your skin a language, and read it with my lips.” He bites at your shoulders, your jaw, your neck as he fucks you, and the bed is creaking with the force of his movement.
““Feels like every cell in my body is screaming your name.”
His teeth keep coming back to worry the tender skin just under your jaw, right where the soft drum of your pulse is beating faster and faster. You're so close, but the angle just isn't quite where you need it.
“I'm almost- fuck! C'mon, just a little more!” Frustrated, you lock your ankles around his back and arch. Now, Damien's cock is hitting just the right spot again and again and again, and he drives you right over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. As you shout and clench around him, he grits his teeth and keeps fucking you through the aftershocks, still hissing poetry in your ear.
“Wanna sink into you forever and never come out, just recklessly launch out into the waves and let you wreck me on your cliffs, you siren, you beauty, you- you- ah!”
It's unfair how beautiful he looks when he comes. With his eyes shut tight and his head tossed back, glowing with golden light, he looks positively angelic.
When he collapses onto your chest, you card your fingers through his hair and tease, “Fuck, you get a halo when you jizz. Did you know that?”
“Uuugh,” Damien moans, but doesn't raise his head, too blissed out to move. “Comes with being a prince of Hell. Demonic energy, blah blah, whatever. I usually hold it back, but, y'know. Sex.”
“So, you could say it’s positively ... divine?” You waggle your eyebrows, and Damien smashes his face into your shoulder with a groan.
“Don't do this.”
You laugh and kiss his broken horn.
“Fine, fine, ruin my fun with your grumpy demon-our.”
“You fucking nerd.”
The two of you drowse for a bit, but then Damien tenses.
“Shit, should we have used a condom?”
Your brow creases momentarily, but then you shrug. “I mean, I've had enough of our classmates bleed on me that if I was gonna get a disease it would have happened by now? And you're a hell demon who burns shit straight out of your bloodstream? So STDs probably aren’t a big deal? Right?”
“Probably…” Damien seems unconvinced. It takes him a moment before he works up the nerve to say, “But, uh, pregnancy?”
“Huh.” You roll that thought around in your brain. Being a different species of monster, you hadn't thought that would be a problem, but Damien is the demon son of two fathers, and that implies a certain level of virility past what you normally deal with. You shove Damien off of you and sit up. “Yeah, ok. Get your pants on.”
“What, why me?”
You look over your shoulder at him as you try to figure out how to do the spell to re-summon your clothes. “Because if I'm going to the drugstore with sex hair and a hickey the shape of your mouth, I'm sure as hell bringing you with me so everyone knows who gave me such a good fucking.”
“Heh. If you're gonna put it like that, sure. I'll come with.” Now motivated, Damien follows you in getting upright and out of bed.
He’s obviously noticed your frustration over getting dressed, because he digs around in a drawer, then throws one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants at you.
“If you can’t re-magic your stuff, you can wear mine.”
Fuck it. You'd have to be the king of all losers if you gave up the chance to wear your boyfriend's clothing. You decide to summon your clothes back later, and pull his on. The pants hang low on your hips, and the collar of the shirt gapes wide, and that aforementioned hickey? It’s really obvious.
“Yeah, okay, this is fine. Now get your pants on and let's go.”
Making a trip to pick up Plan B wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend your afterglow, but hey, the night is young and you’ve still got your lighter. Maybe a little arson will heat things up enough that you’ll be able to add public indecency to your list of sins on the way back.