Chapter Text
Robert's apartment hadn't improved much in three weeks. The mattress still lay on the bedroom floor like a surrender flag. The couch sagged where he'd bought it that way from Goodwill. But his fridge held actual food now, and Beef had a proper dog bed instead of folded towels. Progress.
On screen, some former sidekick was crying about their glory days while eating bugs for money. Robert nursed a beer and tried to care. Beef snored from his bed, paws twitching through whatever dogs dreamed about. Probably chasing something that didn't have horns.
The knock rattled his door hard enough to shake dust from the frame. Not a knock so much as a declaration of war against wood and hinges.
"Christ." Robert set his beer down, already knowing this wouldn't be good. Nobody knocked like that unless they were selling something, serving papers, or about to ruin his night. Given his luck lately...
He opened the door and had to look up. Way up.
Malevola filled his doorway like a threat made flesh. Six and a half feet of red skin and curves that her white leotard struggled to contain. No sword tonight, but she didn't need one. Her tail lashed behind her, and those pupil-less yellow eyes locked onto his with the kind of focus that made prey animals freeze.
"We need to talk, dispatcher."
She didn't wait for him to process that, just pushed past him into his apartment. Her shoulder brushed his chest as she passed, warm like standing too close to a furnace. She smelled like smoke and something darker, older. Sulfur maybe. Or just whatever demons smelled like when they showed up uninvited.
"Sure, come in," Robert muttered to his empty doorway. "Make yourself at home."
She surveyed his apartment with a slow turn, taking in the bare walls, the single lamp, the television still playing its trash. Her expression shifted between amusement and something that might have been pity if demons did pity.
"Cozy," she said, accent thick with sarcasm. "Very minimalist even after all the lamps we brought. Is this poverty or aesthetic choice?"
"Both. Mostly poverty."
Beef lifted his head from his bed, took one look at Malevola, and immediately retreated to the bedroom with his tail between his legs. The click of his nails on the floor faded down the hall, followed by the sound of him crawling under the bed.
"Smart dog," Malevola said.
Robert shut the door, leaned against it. Kept his voice casual even though his heart rate had definitely kicked up. "So what's this about?"
Malevola turned to face him, arms crossed under her chest. The motion did things to that straining leotard he was absolutely not noticing. The fabric pulled tighter, outlining curves that belonged in someone's fever dream.
"I'm tired of this," she said. "Whatever this is."
"This?"
"The looks across the dispatch floor. The way you didn't flinch when I grabbed your crotch at the party." Her yellow eyes narrowed. "The way I catch you watching my ass when I bend over the coffee machine and you pretend you weren't."
Robert opened his mouth to deny it. Closed it. Opened it again. "I thought you were just messing with me. Like you do with everyone."
Her tail lashed once, sharp enough to crack like a whip. "I don't mess around. Not about this."
"Malevola…….."
"I'm too old for games, Robertson. I've been alive longer than your family's been making mech suits." She uncrossed her arms, let them fall to her sides. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stop pretending you don't want to fuck me. And I'm going to stop pretending I haven't thought about what you're hiding under those ugly work shirts."
The television droned on behind them. Some contestant was sobbing about eating a scorpion. Robert's mouth had gone dry.
"That's... direct."
"I'm a demon. We don't do subtle."
The height difference was absurd. She had nearly a foot on him, looking down with those glowing yellow eyes that should have made him feel like prey. Should have made him want to back up, create distance, maybe grab a crucifix or whatever worked on demons these days.
Instead, Robert felt like he'd been waiting for this since her hand had pressed against him at that party. Since she'd called him cute and left him hard and confused in his own hallway.
"So what do you want?" The words came out rougher than he'd intended, scraped raw from his throat.
Malevola's lips curled into something that couldn't decide if it was a smile or a threat. Maybe both. Probably both.
"I want to fuck you, dispatcher." She said it like discussing the weather. "I want to find out if there's anything interesting under those sad khakis. And then I want to do it again. Regularly. Whenever I feel like it."
She leaned down, and suddenly she was close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her breath ghosted against his ear, hot like summer wind off asphalt. The Australian accent went thick, syrupy.
"I'm not asking to be your girlfriend, love. I'm telling you I'm going to be your side piece. You can date whoever you want. Hearts and flowers, the whole tragic human romance thing. But when I want you?" Her tail curled around his ankle, a possessive loop of warm muscle. "You're mine. Understand?"
The smart play would be to think about this. To consider the complications of fucking a coworker, especially one who could literally portal him to hell if things went south. To remember that he was supposed to be the responsible one, the guy who kept his distance from the chaos.
Robert's answer was to grab her by the horns and drag her mouth down to his.
The sound she made against his mouth wasn't human. Couldn't be human. It resonated in his chest like a bass note, hungry and ancient, and it short-circuited something in his brain. His grip on her horns tightened, and she made that sound again, deeper this time.
Then she was lifting him.
Robert's feet left the floor like he was made of nothing. Her hands gripped his ass, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and she carried him across his own apartment like he weighed less than a bag of groceries. The ceiling got closer. The lamp passed by at eye level. His back hit the couch cushions and he bounced once, the old springs groaning in protest.
Before he could catch his breath, she was on him.
Her weight settled across his lap, pinning him down with a pressure that felt like being buried. Her thighs bracketed his hips, powerful and warm, and when she rolled forward the friction dragged a groan out of him that he couldn't have stopped if he tried. She was grinding against him, slow and deliberate, rubbing her covered cunt along the bulge straining against his pants.
Her tail moved with a mind of its own. It slithered up his chest, hooked into the collar of his shirt, and yanked. Buttons scattered. The fabric tore up and over his head, and then her clawed hands were on his bare skin, mapping the damage.
"Not bad," she murmured, tracing a particularly nasty scar along his ribs. The one from the Havoc incident, when shrapnel had punched through his suit's chest plate. Her claw followed its jagged path from his side to his sternum, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You've earned these."
Her fingers found another one, surgical and straight, low on his abdomen. Then the cluster of smaller scars across his shoulder where the suit's internal structure had collapsed. She touched each one like she was reading braille, like his body was a story she wanted to understand.
Robert's hands found the zipper at the back of her leotard. He didn't ask permission. Just grabbed it and dragged it down, the teeth parting with a sound that seemed too loud in his quiet apartment.
Her breasts spilled free.
Full and firm, bigger than her athletic frame had any right to support. They bounced once as they escaped the confining fabric, settling into a natural teardrop shape that made his mouth water. Her nipples were a darker shade of red than the rest of her skin, already peaked into stiff points.
He palmed them roughly, one in each hand, and she groaned. Her head tipped back, horns catching the light from his single lamp, throwing curved shadows across the ceiling. Her hips kept rolling, grinding down against him in a rhythm that was making it hard to think. The denim of her shorts was already dark between her thighs, soaking through with heat he could feel even through his own pants.
"Fuck," Robert managed, squeezing harder. Her tits overflowed his grip, firm flesh bulging between his fingers. She was so warm. Warmer than any human had a right to be, like holding his hands to a fire.
"That's the idea." Her voice came out rough, accent thicker than before. She looked down at him with those glowing yellow eyes, and her smile showed teeth that were just slightly too sharp. "Keep doing that."
He pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger, twisted, and her whole body shuddered. Her cunt ground down against his cock hard enough that his vision went fuzzy at the edges. The wet heat of her soaked through the layers between them, leaving a dark stain spreading across his khakis.
"Enough teasing," she growled, and her tail hooked into his waistband with zero patience, yanking his pants and boxers down in one motion.
His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach before settling upright. Eight inches of thick, flushed flesh, veins prominent along the shaft, the head already shining with precum.
Malevola went still.
Those pupil-less yellow eyes fixed on his cock with an intensity that made Robert's skin prickle. Her lips parted slightly. For a long moment, she just stared, and something shifted in her expression that he couldn't quite read.
"Well well." Her voice had dropped into a register that vibrated through his bones. She reached down, and her clawed hand wrapped around his shaft, fingers not quite meeting around his girth. She squeezed, testing. Lifted slightly, feeling the weight of him. Her thumb dragged over the head, smearing precum across the tip. "The dispatcher's been hiding something."
The genuine surprise in her voice did something to Robert's ego that he'd examine later, when he could think. Right now, her hand was hot as a brand around his cock, her claws pricking just enough to remind him what she was, and coherent thought had left the building.
She stroked him once, slow, root to tip. Watched his cock pulse in her grip like she was memorizing the shape of it.
"Centuries," she murmured, almost to herself. "Centuries of humans and demons and things you don't have names for. And you're telling me this was hiding under khakis the whole time?"
"Malevola…"
"Shut up. I'm appreciating."
She stroked him again, and her tail coiled tighter around his thigh, the pointed tip tracing lazy patterns against his inner leg. Her eyes never left his cock. She looked hungry in a way that went beyond sex, something ancient and predatory waking up behind those yellow eyes.
Then she released him and shifted off his lap in one fluid motion.
Robert reached for her instinctively, but she was already standing, peeling the ruined leotard down her body. It caught on her hips for a moment before she shoved it past them, taking her shorts with it. The fabric pooled at her feet and she kicked it aside.
Red skin all the way down. No tan lines, because demons apparently didn't tan. No underwear, because of course not. Her body was a study in impossible proportions, all muscle and curve, hourglass exaggerated past human limits. Her stomach was defined, obliques cutting shadows in the lamplight. Her hips flared dramatically from her waist, and between her powerful thighs...
She was wet. Slick and glistening, her arousal catching the light, dark red lips swollen and parted. A thin strand of her juices connected her thighs when she moved, breaking and dripping down her leg.
Robert reached for her again.
Her hand caught both his wrists before he'd moved six inches. She pinned them above his head against the couch arm, casual, effortless. Her grip was iron wrapped in warm skin, and when he tested it, straining with actual effort, she didn't budge. Didn't even seem to notice.
"You don't get to touch yet." She climbed back over him, straddling his hips, positioning herself so he could feel the wet heat of her hovering just above his cock. Her free hand reached down, wrapped around his shaft, and angled him up toward her entrance. "You get to feel."
She held him there for a moment, the head of his cock just kissing her slick folds. The heat coming off her was intense, almost scalding. Her juices dripped down his shaft, running over his balls.
Then she sank down.
One slow, devastating drop. Her cunt swallowed him inch by inch, stretching around his girth, walls clenching and rippling as she took him deeper. She was tight, impossibly tight for how wet she was, her inner muscles gripping him like she was trying to milk him dry before he was even fully inside.
Robert's groan ripped out of his chest, raw and wrecked.
Malevola's moan tangled with it, low and resonant, something that wasn't quite human vibrating in her throat. She bottomed out with her ass flush against his thighs, every inch of him buried in her scorching cunt. Her walls clenched around him, rhythmic pulses that made his vision go white at the edges.
"Fuck," she breathed, and her accent had gone thick as honey. "That's... yeah. That's what I wanted."
She didn't give him time to adjust.
Malevola's hips rose and dropped, and the first real thrust punched the air out of Robert's lungs. Her cunt dragged up his length, walls gripping like a fist, then slammed back down with enough force to rock the entire couch. The old springs screamed in protest. His wrists strained against her grip, muscles burning with useless effort, and she didn't even notice.
"That's it," she breathed, rolling her hips forward before snapping them back. "Just like that. Just take it."
She rode him like she fought. Powerful, relentless, no mercy. Her body moved with centuries of experience, finding angles that made his cock twitch and his brain short-circuit. Every stroke took him deep, bottoming out against something that made her gasp, her cunt clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that threatened to end this embarrassingly fast.
Her breasts bounced with each movement, heavy and hypnotic. They swayed in counterpoint to her hips, flesh jiggling, nipples dark and stiff. Robert wanted to touch them, wanted to grab and squeeze and bite, but his hands stayed pinned above his head like they were welded there.
He pulled again, straining with everything he had. His biceps burned. His shoulders ached.
Malevola's grip didn't budge. Didn't even tighten. She was holding him one-handed like it cost her nothing, like he was a toy she could pin or release at will.
"Cute," she panted, noticing his struggle. Her hips never stopped moving, that devastating rhythm of rise and fall, her wet cunt sliding up and down his cock with obscene sounds. "Keep trying. I like the way you flex."
"Fuck you," Robert managed through clenched teeth.
"That's the idea." She dropped down hard, grinding when she bottomed out, rotating her hips in a tight circle that made stars explode behind his eyes. "Fuck. You feel good."
Her accent had gone thick, words coming out rough and breathless. Her tail lashed behind her, cracking the air with each snap, a metronome counting out her pleasure. Sweat gleamed on her red skin, catching the lamplight, making her look like something out of a fever dream.
"Better than I thought." Another hard drop, her ass slapping against his thighs. "Been thinking about this for... ah... weeks."
She picked up speed, and Robert's world narrowed to sensation. The scorching grip of her cunt, the rhythmic clench of her walls, the wet sounds of her riding him. His balls drew up tight against his body, pressure building at the base of his spine.
"Malevola..."
Her free hand found his jaw. Claws dimpled his skin without breaking it, five points of sharp pressure that made his pulse jump. She tilted his face up, forced him to meet those glowing yellow eyes.
"Tell me how it feels." Her hips kept moving, slower now but deeper, grinding on every stroke. "Being fucked by a demon. Use your words, Robertson."
His brain scrambled for vocabulary. Most of it had fled somewhere south of his waistline.
"Incredible." The word came out wrecked, barely recognizable. "Fuck. Don't stop."
Malevola laughed, breathless and genuine, and deliberately clenched around him. Her walls squeezed his cock like she was trying to wring him out, rhythmic pulses that made his hips buck involuntarily.
"Incredible," she repeated, mocking but pleased. "That's all you've got? A demon's riding your cock and the best you can manage is incredible?"
She leaned down, bringing her face close to his. Her breath was hot against his neck, carrying that smoke-and-sulfur scent. Her breasts pressed against his chest, soft and heavy, nipples dragging across his skin.
"Pathetic," she murmured against his throat. "I expected better dirty talk from you, dispatcher."
Then she bit him.
Not a love bite. Not a playful nip. Her teeth sank into the junction of his neck and shoulder with real force, real intent, breaking skin. The pain lanced through him, sharp and bright, and tangled with the pleasure until he couldn't tell them apart. Her tongue lapped at the wound, tasting his blood, and she made a sound against his throat that vibrated through his whole body.
She was marking him. Claiming him. Making sure anyone who saw him would know he'd been with something that wasn't human.
And when she leaned in to bite, she shifted her weight.
Just slightly. Just enough that her grip on his wrists loosened, her balance compromised by the angle, her attention split between the taste of his blood and the cock inside her.
Robert moved.
His hands ripped free, grabbed her hips, and he twisted with every ounce of strength he'd earned in twenty years of combat. His core engaged, his legs pushed off the couch arm, and he used her own momentum against her, rolling them both in a controlled fall.
Malevola's back hit the couch cushions with a thump that knocked dust from the frame.
Her eyes went wide. Yellow and pupil-less and absolutely, genuinely surprised.
Then her lips split into a grin that showed all those too-sharp teeth, and she looked up at him like he'd just given her the best present she'd received in centuries.
"Oh," she breathed, tail curling possessively around his thigh. "There you are."
"My turn." He said, surprising her.
Robert shoved her legs back, folding the literal demon woman in half on his shitty secondhand couch. Her knees pressed toward her shoulders, her powerful thighs spread wide, her dripping cunt completely exposed and still clenching around nothing. The position should have been impossible to hold against someone who could bench press a car, but Malevola didn't fight him.
She could stop him. They both knew that. One flex of those supernatural muscles and he'd be pinned again, right back where she wanted him.
But she didn't want to.
Her tail coiled tight around his waist, not pulling, just holding. Her clawed hands gripped the couch cushions instead of his throat. And those glowing yellow eyes looked up at him with something that might have been respect, might have been hunger, probably both.
"Well?" Her voice came out rough, challenging. "You going to stare or are you going to…."
Robert drove into her.
One brutal thrust, no warning, burying himself to the hilt in her scorching cunt. Her walls clenched around him like a vice, impossibly tight, and the heat of her was enough to make his vision blur at the edges.
Malevola screamed.
"FUCK!" The word tore out of her, raw and shocked, echoing off his bare walls. "Oh fuck, oh FUCK, yes, like that, just like….."
He pulled back and slammed home again, and whatever she'd been saying dissolved into a sound that wasn't quite human. Her back arched off the cushions, breasts bouncing, horns scraping against the armrest. Her claws punched through the fabric beneath her, stuffing exploding around her fingers.
Good thing his neighbors were used to weird noises. Between the mech suit mishaps and Beef's occasional howling at sirens, one more unexplained scream probably wouldn't even register.
Robert found a rhythm. Hard and deep, no mercy, driving into her with every ounce of strength he had. Each thrust bottomed out against something that made her whole body jerk, her cunt clenching around him in desperate pulses. The couch groaned beneath them, springs screaming, the frame creaking ominously.
"There," she gasped, claws shredding deeper into the cushions. "Right there, don't stop, don't you fucking stop…….."
He didn't stop.
Her first orgasm hit like a wave breaking. Her walls clamped down on his cock so hard he saw stars, rhythmic convulsions milking him while her body seized. Her scream went wordless, something ancient and resonant that vibrated through his bones. Her tail yanked tight around his waist, pulling him deeper, holding him buried inside her while she shook apart.
Robert fucked her through it.
Didn't slow down, didn't give her time to recover. Just kept driving into that clenching heat, feeling her walls flutter and grip, watching her face contort through aftershocks that rolled into something new, something building.
"Ah... ah fuck... Robert..." Her accent had gone so thick he could barely understand her. "I'm... again, I'm going to..."
Her second orgasm crashed into the first before she'd finished coming down. Her back bowed off the couch, lifting them both, her strength showing despite her submission. She wailed something that started in English and ended in sounds no human throat should make, guttural and resonant, syllables that scraped against reality.
Demonic. Had to be. Unless Australians had some dialect he'd never encountered.
Her claws finished off the cushions entirely, stuffing and foam scattering across his floor. Her tail squeezed his waist hard enough to leave bruises, pulling him into her on every thrust, demanding more depth, more force. Her juices flooded around his cock, dripping down his balls, soaking into the ruined couch beneath them.
"Bedroom," she managed between ragged breaths. Her eyes were glazed, that yellow glow flickering like a flame in wind. "Mattress. I want you to... ah fuck..." She broke off as he thrust particularly deep, her whole body shuddering. "Want you to really let go."
Robert slowed, still buried inside her. Her cunt clenched around him in protest, walls rippling like she was trying to keep him moving through sheer internal pressure.
"Yeah?" He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his chest, every muscle in his body burning. "You sure you can handle that?"
Her laugh came out broken, breathless. "Only one way to find out."
He pulled out.
Her whine was immediate and genuine, her cunt clenching on nothing, chasing his retreating cock. She looked almost wounded, spread open and empty on his destroyed couch.
Then her hand moved in a gesture he couldn't quite follow, fingers tracing shapes in the air, and reality tore open beside them.
The portal was a vertical slash of red light, edges rippling like heat haze. Through it, Robert could see his own bedroom. His mattress on the floor. Maybe ten feet away through normal space.
Malevola sat up, looked at him with those glowing eyes, and grinned.
"Shortcut," she said, still breathing hard. "I'm impatient."
Robert stepped through the portal and his foot caught on nothing, momentum carrying him forward in a graceless stumble. Malevola grabbed him before he hit the floor, her hand fisting in what remained of his shirt, and yanked him down onto the mattress with her.
They landed in a tangle of limbs and skin, her tail wrapped around his leg, her breasts pressed against his chest, her mouth finding his in a kiss that tasted like smoke and copper. His blood, he realized dimly. Still on her tongue from the bite.
A sharp bark cut through the haze.
Beef shot out from a corner like he'd been launched, his stubby legs churning as he fled through the bedroom door. His offended howl echoed down the hallway, followed by the sound of him scrambling into the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him.
"Really smart dog," Malevola said against Robert's mouth. Then she was moving, twisting out from under him, repositioning herself on the mattress with the fluid grace of someone who'd done this more times than he could count.
Hands and knees. Ass in the air, round and firm and red as sin. Her tail swayed above her like a flag of surrender that wasn't surrendering anything. She looked back at him over her shoulder, black hair spilling across her back, those glowing yellow eyes burning in the dim light of his bedroom.
"Like this." Her voice had dropped into something low and demanding. "Hard. Make me feel it tomorrow when I'm sitting in the dispatch chair."
Robert's hands found her hips before his brain caught up with his body. His fingers dug into her flesh, gripping hard enough to leave marks on anyone human, and she made a sound of approval that rumbled through the mattress.
He lined himself up. Felt the wet heat of her against his cock, her arousal dripping down his shaft before he'd even pushed inside.
Then he slammed home.
The sound Malevola made wasn't human.
It started somewhere deep in her chest and resonated outward, bass notes that Robert felt in his bones rather than heard with his ears. Ancient. Hungry. The kind of sound that probably made medieval peasants build churches and pray for salvation.
Her cunt gripped him like it was trying to keep him there forever, walls rippling around his cock in waves of scorching pressure. She was even tighter from this angle, her body clenching with every breath, and when he pulled back she whined and pushed her hips toward him, chasing him.
Robert grabbed a fistful of her hair.
Long black strands wrapped around his fingers as he yanked her head back, forcing her spine to arch, her breasts to thrust forward. Her horns caught the light from the hallway, casting curved shadows on the wall.
"FUCK yes," she groaned, the words punched out of her. "Like that. More."
He gave her more.
His hips snapped forward, driving deep, and she made that inhuman sound again. He set a brutal rhythm, each thrust bottoming out inside her, the wet slap of skin on skin filling his small bedroom. Her ass rippled with every impact, firm flesh bouncing, cheeks clapping against his pelvis.
His free hand cracked across her ass without conscious decision.
The sound was sharp, almost musical. Her red skin flushed darker where he'd struck, a deeper crimson spreading across the curve of her cheek. And the noise she made in response...
She keened.
High and desperate and so far from human that Robert's hindbrain screamed at him to run. But his cock was buried in the hottest, tightest cunt he'd ever felt, and the demon underneath him was pushing back against every thrust, demanding more, and running was the absolute last thing on his mind.
"Again," Malevola demanded. Her claws had found his sheets, punching through the cheap cotton, shredding them like tissue paper. "Harder."
He hit her again. Harder.
Her whole body jerked forward from the impact, but his grip on her hair held her in place, kept her pinned on his cock. The mark bloomed across her other cheek, symmetrical now, twin handprints in darker red.
"Yes yes yes..." The words tumbled out of her, accent so thick they were barely comprehensible. "Don't stop, don't you fucking stop..."
Robert didn't stop.
He fucked her like he meant it. Like he had something to prove. Every thrust drove a sound out of her, groans and gasps and words in languages that weren't English, weren't anything he recognized. Her tail lashed behind her, cracking the air, occasionally wrapping around his arm or waist before releasing again.
She was testing him. He knew it in his bones. Seeing if he'd gentle his touch, if he'd treat her like something fragile, if he'd flinch from the marks he was leaving on her skin.
He wasn't going to flinch.
His hand came down on her ass again and again, alternating cheeks, watching the color deepen with each strike. She took every blow and demanded more, her cunt clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that matched her moans. Her juices ran down his cock, down his balls, dripping onto the mattress below and leaving a spreading dark stain on the cheap fabric.
"Robert..." His name came out of her mouth like a prayer, like a curse. "Fuck, Robert, I'm..."
Her walls started to flutter, that telltale ripple of an approaching orgasm. He yanked her hair harder, forcing her back to arch even further, and drove into her with everything he had.
"Come," he ordered, the word rough and raw. "Come on my cock."
Malevola came with a roar.
Not a scream. Not a moan. A roar, deep and resonant, something that belonged in the throat of a creature that had never been human. Her body seized, muscles locking, her cunt clamping down on his cock so hard he saw stars. Her claws finished off his sheets entirely, fabric shredding as her fists clenched. Her tail wrapped around his waist and squeezed, pulling him deeper, holding him buried inside her while she shook apart.
Robert gritted his teeth against the pressure, against the milking grip of her walls, against the urge to follow her over the edge. Not yet. Not yet.
The orgasm rolled through her in waves, each one marked by another clench that threatened to break his control. Her roar dissolved into gasping breaths, into something that might have been his name, into sounds that weren't words at all.
Finally, finally, her body relaxed. Just slightly. Just enough that he could breathe again.
She looked back at him over her shoulder, yellow eyes glazed, black hair wild around her face. Sweat gleamed on her red skin. Her lips were parted, chest heaving with each breath.
"Don't stop," she gasped. Her voice was wrecked, scraped raw. "One more. Shower." She swallowed hard, her cunt clenching around him like punctuation. "I want one more."
Robert pulled out slowly, watching her cunt clench around nothing, a string of her arousal connecting them for a moment before breaking. Malevola collapsed forward onto the ruined mattress, her shoulders shaking with aftershocks, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Shower," she repeated, the word muffled against his pillow. "Now."
His bathroom wasn't designed for two people. It wasn't really designed for one person who wanted to move around. A standup shower barely big enough to turn in, a toilet wedged against the wall, a sink he had to angle his shoulders to use. Definitely not designed for a six-foot-six demon woman with horns and a tail.
They made it work anyway.
The water came out hot, steam filling the cramped space within seconds. Robert's back pressed against the cold tile, then Malevola was crowding him against it, all that red skin slick and gleaming under the spray. Water ran down the curves of her body, tracing paths between her breasts, streaming over her stomach, dripping from her nipples.
"Turn around," he said.
She raised an eyebrow, yellow eyes glowing through the steam. "Giving orders now?"
"You wanted one more."
Something flickered across her face. Approval, maybe. Or just hunger.
She turned.
Malevola braced her hands against the tile wall, palms flat, claws scraping against the grout. The shower was so small that her horns nearly touched the opposite wall, her body taking up all the available space. She spread her legs as much as the narrow stall allowed and looked back at him over her shoulder.
"Well?"
Robert stepped up behind her, his chest pressing against her back. The height difference meant he had to adjust, had to guide her hips down slightly, had to find the angle that worked. Her tail wrapped around his thigh immediately, the pointed tip tracing patterns against his skin, possessive even now.
She was still dripping with her own arousal, slick and swollen from two orgasms, and when he pushed inside her she made a sound that bounced off the tile walls and multiplied.
Tight. Tighter than before, somehow. Her walls gripped him like they never wanted to let go, oversensitive and trembling. Every inch he sank into her pulled another noise from her throat, gasps and whimpers that didn't sound anything like the confident demon who'd kicked down his door.
"Fuck," she breathed, her forehead dropping against the tile. "Fuck, I can feel everything..."
Robert bottomed out and held there for a moment, buried to the hilt in her clenching heat. Water cascaded over them both, running down his chest, pooling where their bodies joined. Steam swirled around them, making the air thick and hard to breathe.
Then he started to move.
The angle was different like this. Deeper. Every thrust pressed him against something that made her whole body jerk, her claws gouging lines in the grout, her tail squeezing his thigh hard enough to leave marks. She was shaking constantly now, trembling with each stroke, her walls fluttering around him in waves.
"Sensitive," she gasped, like he couldn't tell. "So fucking sensitive, don't stop, don't you dare..."
He didn't stop.
His hips found a rhythm, slower than before but deeper, each thrust deliberate. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the small space, mixing with the rush of water and her escalating moans. Her ass pressed back against him on every stroke, meeting his thrusts, demanding more even as her body shook from overstimulation.
One of her legs hooked back around his hip, opening her wider, changing the angle again. He sank deeper and she wailed, the sound sharp and desperate, bouncing off the walls until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"Close," she panted, the word barely recognizable through her accent. "Fuck, dispatcher, right there, right there, don't stop..."
Robert reached around her body. His hand slid down her stomach, through the water streaming over her skin, until his fingers found her clit. Swollen and slick, pulsing under his touch. He rubbed in tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and Malevola's response was immediate.
Her back arched, pressing her ass harder against him. Her claws punched through the grout entirely, tile cracking under her grip. Her tail yanked his thigh forward, pulling him deeper into her on every stroke. And the sounds she made...
Wordless. Desperate. Building toward something inevitable.
Robert leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, and bit down on her shoulder.
Not gentle. Not playful. His teeth sank into the muscle where her neck met her shoulder, hard enough to leave marks even on demon skin, and held on while he fucked her through the final strokes.
Malevola came apart.
"ROBERT!"
His name tore out of her throat, raw and wrecked, echoing off the tile until the whole bathroom rang with it. Her cunt clamped down on his cock so hard he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, just held there while her walls milked him in rhythmic pulses. Her body seized against him, muscles locking, trembling, breaking.
He followed seconds later.
The orgasm hit him like a freight train, pleasure crashing through his body in waves that started at the base of his spine and radiated outward. He buried himself as deep as he could go and came, cock pulsing, pumping rope after rope of cum into her clenching cunt. His groan rumbled against her shoulder, muffled by her skin, his teeth still marking her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The water kept running, hot spray hitting their tangled bodies, washing away sweat and other fluids. Steam curled around them. Malevola's walls continued to flutter around his softening cock, aftershocks rolling through her in diminishing waves. Her claws slowly retracted from the ruined tile, leaving gouges that would definitely cost him his security deposit.
Robert released her shoulder, examining the bite mark with something between satisfaction and mild concern. Dark red, already bruising. It would be visible for days.
Good.
Malevola laughed.
Low and satisfied, the sound rumbling through her chest and into his. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, yellow eyes half-lidded, black hair plastered to her face and neck. Water ran down her cheeks like tears, dripped from her horns, pooled in the hollow of her throat.
"Acceptable," she said, her voice wrecked. "For a human."
Robert's hand cracked across her ass before she'd finished the word "human."
The sound was sharp, wet from the shower spray, and the impact sent water droplets scattering against the tile walls. Malevola's whole body jerked forward, her softening cunt clenching around his still-buried cock, and the noise she made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
"Bitch," Robert growled against her shoulder, his voice rough from exertion. "You were being a fucking bitch."
The words came out before he could think about them, raw and honest, stripped of any filter by three orgasms and the steam clouding his brain. He felt her tense against him, felt the moment of surprise ripple through her body.
Then she laughed.
Low and delighted, the sound vibrating through her chest and into his. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, those glowing yellow eyes bright with something that looked dangerously like joy.
"There he is." Her smirk showed teeth. "The dispatcher finally grew a spine."
"Malevola..."
"Put me in my place." The words came out as a challenge, a dare, an invitation all wrapped into one. Her tail tightened around his thigh, pulling him closer. "If you think you can."
Robert's cock twitched inside her. Not soft anymore. Not even close.
He pulled out in one rough motion, grabbed her hips, and spun her around to face him. Her back hit the tile with a wet smack, her eyes going wide with genuine surprise for the second time tonight. Before she could react, he hooked his hands under her thighs and lifted.
She helped without thinking, legs wrapping around his waist, her supernatural strength making her nearly weightless despite her size. The position put them face to face, her horns scraping the ceiling, her breasts pressed against his chest, her dripping cunt hovering just above his cock.
"You want to be put in your place?" Robert lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. "Fine."
He dropped her onto his cock.
Malevola's scream bounced off every surface in the tiny bathroom. Her claws raked down his back, leaving lines of fire in their wake. Her walls clenched around him, still sensitive from three orgasms, still swollen and hot and impossibly tight.
Robert didn't give her time to adjust.
He fucked up into her with everything he had, using the wall for leverage, using her own legs around his waist to pull her down onto every thrust. The angle was brutal, deep, his cock hitting something inside her that made her whole body seize with each stroke.
"FUCK!" The word tore out of her, ragged and raw. "Oh fuck, oh FUCK..."
His hand found her ass again. The slap echoed through the steam, mixing with the wet sounds of their bodies coming together, with the rush of water, with her escalating cries. He hit her again, and again, each strike punctuating a thrust, leaving darker handprints on her red skin.
"This what you wanted?" His voice came out rough, barely recognizable. "Huh? This what you came here for?"
"Yes!" She was shaking, trembling, her body wracked with sensation. "Yes, fuck, don't stop..."
He didn't stop.
The bathroom filled with sounds. Flesh slapping against flesh, wet and obscene. Her screams, wordless and desperate, bouncing off the tile until they seemed to come from everywhere. The crack of his palm against her ass, over and over, marking her, claiming her. The groan of the pipes as the shower struggled to keep up. The creak of the wall as her back drove against it with each thrust.
Malevola's claws shredded his back, leaving trails of blood that washed away in the shower spray. Her tail whipped behind her, cracking against the tile, the curtain, the wall, anything it could reach. Her horns scraped gouges in the ceiling with every thrust that drove her upward.
"More," she gasped, the word barely comprehensible through her accent. "Harder, fuck, HARDER..."
Robert grabbed one of her horns.
Her reaction was immediate and electric. Her whole body seized, her cunt clamping down on his cock so hard he saw stars, a sound ripping out of her throat that wasn't remotely human. He gripped the horn tighter, using it for leverage, and drove into her with renewed force.
"Like that?" He was panting now, muscles burning, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. "You like that?"
"YESSSSS!" The word stretched into a scream, into something that made the pipes rattle in the walls. "Don't stop don't stop DON'T STOP..."
He fucked her like she'd demanded. Hard enough to leave bruises. Deep enough to make her forget her own name. His free hand kept spanking her ass, alternating cheeks, each strike driving another scream from her throat. Her skin was darker now where he'd been hitting, deep crimson handprints overlapping across her flesh.
Her orgasm built like a storm. He could feel it in the way her walls fluttered around him, in the desperate grinding of her hips, in the way her screams pitched higher and higher. She was close. So fucking close.
"Come on," Robert growled, twisting his grip on her horn. "Cum for me. Cum on my cock like the good little demon you are."
Malevola's eyes rolled back.
Her scream shattered something in the bathroom. A mirror, maybe. A light fixture. Robert didn't care. He was too busy feeling her cunt clamp down on him, too busy watching her body arch and seize, too busy listening to the sounds she made as pleasure ripped through her.
"ROBERT!" His name tore out of her, raw and desperate. "ROBERT, FUCK, PLEASE..."
She was begging. The ancient demon who'd shown up at his door like she owned the world was begging, his name on her lips, her body shaking apart around him.
"Please what?" He didn't slow down, couldn't slow down, his hips pistoning into her through her orgasm. "Tell me what you want."
"MORE!" The word came out as a wail, broken and desperate. "Please, Robert, more, don't stop, I need... I need..."
Her claws dug deeper into his back. Her tail wrapped around his waist and squeezed. Her cunt milked his cock in rhythmic pulses that threatened to drag him over the edge with her.
But he held on. Kept fucking her. Kept spanking her. Kept pulling sounds out of her that probably weren't legal in most dimensions.
"ROBERT!" She screamed his name again, her voice cracking, her body convulsing. "Robert, please, please, MORE!"
Later.
The bedroom had that thick, humid warmth that followed a long shower. Robert's mattress was damp in spots, the sheets a lost cause, but neither of them had the energy to care. Beef had cautiously returned to his corner after confirming the coast was clear, though he kept one suspicious eye on the red woman taking up most of his human's bed.
Malevola sprawled on her back, utterly relaxed in a way Robert had never seen at the office. No coiled tension, no predatory awareness, just a boneless sprawl of red limbs and satisfied curves. Her tail curled lazily around his waist like she was claiming him even in rest, the pointed tip tracing absent patterns against his hip.
Robert lay on top of her, his head pillowed on her breasts. They were soft under his cheek, warm, rising and falling with each slow breath. His brain was slowly coming back online, thoughts reforming like fog burning off in morning sun. One hand traced idle patterns on her stomach, feeling the definition of muscle under impossibly smooth skin.
"So," he said. "Side piece."
Malevola hummed, eager and satisfied, not opening her eyes. "That's the arrangement. I come over when I want, you fuck me properly." Her tail squeezed his waist, a possessive little reminder. "Or you call me over whenever you want a demon slut who can drain your balls proper."
Robert's hand stilled on her stomach. His brain snagged on her next words.
"Can't let Blonde Blazer and Invisigal have all that premium dispatch cock meat." Her voice was lazy, thick with post-orgasm satisfaction. "They gotta share. And I get first dibs, seeing as I got you to fuck me first."
"Wait." Robert lifted his head, looking at her face. "What?"
One yellow eye cracked open, gleaming with amusement. "What?"
"Blonde Blazer and Invisigal?"
"Oh, come on." Both eyes opened now, that sharp-toothed smile spreading across her face. "You can't be that oblivious, Robertson. And none of us are blind. Mandy's been making cow eyes at you for weeks. And little Invisigal?" She laughed, low and knowing. "Girl practically vibrates when you're in the room. It's adorable. And don't pretend you haven't been wanting those two either."
Robert's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I….we…never…... Mandy was just being nice. She's like that with everyone."
"She invited you to dinner. Alone. At a nice restaurant." Malevola's tail flicked against his side. "That's not being nice, love. That's a date."
"She was being friendly. Professional."
"She told you her real name." The words came out flat, pointed. "Her civilian identity. The thing she guards more than anything. Does she do that with everyone?"
Robert didn't have an answer for that.
Malevola stretched beneath him, her body arching in a way that did distracting things to the breasts under his cheek. "Look, I've been alive longer than your country's been a country. I know when women are circling a man. Those two want you. Bad."
"And you're... fine with that?"
"I told you." She settled back, one hand coming up to card through his damp hair. "I'm not asking to be your girlfriend. Hearts and flowers aren't my thing. But when I want you?" Her tail tightened. "You're mine. The rest of the time, you can do whatever you want with whoever you want."
Robert processed this. His hand resumed its idle tracing on her stomach, following the lines of her obliques. "No drama, no HR paperwork."
"Exactly." She hummed approval. "See? You're catching on."
Robert snorted. "Pretty sure there'd be a LOT of HR paperwork if anyone found out about this."
"Then don't let them find out."
She opened one yellow eye, looking at him with that ancient, knowing gaze. The lamp from the hallway caught the glow, made her look otherworldly. Which she was. Obviously.
"This stays between us." Her clawed fingers scratched gently at his scalp. "Unless you want Blonde Blazer asking why you're walking funny."
Robert thought about it.
He thought about the employee handbook he'd skimmed during orientation. The fraternization policies. The section on "romantic entanglements with super-powered individuals" that he was pretty sure existed specifically because someone had fucked up spectacularly in the past. He thought about the memos, the policies, all the ways this could blow up in his face.
He thought about Malevola showing up at dispatch tomorrow, sitting in her usual spot, acting like nothing had happened while he could still feel the scratch marks on his back. He thought about trying to maintain professional composure while knowing exactly what sounds she made when she came.
He thought about HR.
Then Malevola's hand slid down his body, found his cock, and wrapped around it with familiar heat.
"One more," she murmured, pulling him up into a kiss. Her tongue was hot and demanding, her grip tightening possessively around his shaft. "I want another load in me before sleep."
Her tail coiled tighter around his waist, yanking him closer, pressing his hardening cock against her still-wet cunt.
HR could go fuck itself.