Work Text:
Owning the Devil
by Psycho
I'm laying on his broad frame, his chest rising and falling under my upper body. The devil is sleeping, still I know if I move he'll know it. He always knows, sometimes even those things about me I have no idea about.
The devil, the powerful dark demon is sleeping, and the fact I dared to put my head on his chest is frightening me sometimes. But even more, it's comforting. The knowledge of the strength he possesses, the danger he is. Killing machine, living weapon, created to kill. The man with no memory and no past, more animal than human, the mere sight of his snarl can set a scream in the crowd. The one who won't stop and hesitate if the action is needed, the one who can stand against anything you know and then some. The one people think has no soul. If only they had a slightest idea how wrong they are...
Power is ripping through his muscles that stay motionless under that heavily tanned gruff skin... even now they aren't completely relaxed, ready for motion, ready to fight.
The demon is dangerous, frightening. But not for me. Not when those hands, that can break through concrete without so much as a wince, run over my frame with those feather-light touches. Not when razor-sharp claws that took hundreds of lives slowly and sensually cut my clothes away. Not when I'm pulled in the harsh embrace that is almost intended to crash me, still his hands stop just a moment before hurting me, and I can feel the powerful engine vibrating in his body, radiating heat that licks me like living frame.
The moments when that wild uncontrollable creature licks my neck and whispers "what do you want me to do?" are sending me over the edge. And those baby blue eyes, warm like summer sky, looking at me with love no one else would ever see... I'm not the one to own the demon. And still I am.
Since the demon won't let someone else own him, anyone else but me.
END