Balakai learns that maybe Griffin isn't the only one playing with fire.

Word Count: 6100

Content Warnings: violent sex, reluctance, dubious consent

If they had been easy and light earlier, this was not that. With the power and magic that swam under Griffin’s skin and infused the whole of him, a larger part of his might than he usually carried, Griffin was just more. He felt more, hungered more, needed more. He dragged his nails up the demon's chest, braced his jaw as he took him in another bruising kiss that was a demand for breath from Balakai's own lungs and graze of teeth and tongue that invaded and conquered all of him that he could. Hips ground into him and even the thin of the rough silk felt like too much distance as he moved against the hardening cock of the demon. 

Griffin kissed him deep and hard and even when he thought he could not stand another moment without air, he kissed him still, until his head swam and his chest felt as if it would burst because he so willfully ignored the need of his body over the demand of his will. He asked of Balakai the same; drank to the depths of him without relief or reprieve. Claimed his breath and wanted to feel him struggle under him in his need. 

It wasn't a frantic thing, all controlled strength and demand. He was Master here and well he knew it. The very land bowed before him.

This was different from their play when they had gone to Pandamonium. That had been Balakai getting what he wanted. This though, Griffin full of power... was different. It made Balakai want to bare his throat. Made him want to crawl on his belly and lick the witch's fingers for a taste of it. It made him want to please and seek praise and that made him want to chew something. So he kissed Griffin back, as long and as hard, all teeth and exploring tongue, eager. Because he didn't want to say no, but neither did he want to give into the subservial instinct that greater power sometimes induced. Truly he could still take Griffin if he wanted to. Maybe. Maybe not here on his own ground and wild with reclaimed power. It was the ‘maybe’ that pushed the instinct to grovel and he snarled low, the sound touched with an edge of white hot rage as he tightened his hands in Griffin's hair and arched against him. Took some little control back from the kiss by exertion of pure physical strength so he could still breathe and not give over to the witch.

Not yet.

There was a tension in the demon that Griffin could feel under his hands as they dug into his skin, kept him close. He didn't have to be an empath to feel the war and the way Balakai fought back both against the witch and himself. It made him moan into the kiss and laugh. He liked the tension and the struggle that he could feel in the smaller man, enjoyed having that kind of affect and power to make him react. His fingers tightened around Balakai’s neck a bit when the hell hound growled at him, not playful but dark, and it sent a surge of defiance up his spine and straight into his cock. 

This was his house, his little kingdom in all the world. No one threatened him here. 

Griffin hauled Balakai off the counter by his throat and dropped him unceremoniously on the old wood floor, dropping a knee to his chest to keep him down as he peeled off his shirt. 

Balakai twisted when he was dropped, almost cat-like, but he wasn't quite high enough, and not quite fast enough, to get his limbs beneath him. There was no playfulness in this between them as there sometimes was. The impact drove the breath from him momentarily but before he could turn on Griffin, the witch was on him, shoving him down, knee in his chest. Both the demon's hands found the witch's legs, the prick of sharp nails through the silk of his pants for a moment. As though he seriously considered digging his nails into muscle and tendon, or perhaps just throwing him off. His lips curled and it was not in a smile, but a silent baring of teeth that flashed too sharp.

There seemed no fear in Griffin at all. Too much hunger and power to leave room for fear. For all that they had spent the afternoon and evening in lovely satisfaction, the magic demanded a price. It had to be fed or it would consume him too, gnaw and claw and bite him until he was half mad with it. 

He knew the places such madness led and he was currently uninterested. 

"Get on this dick like a good bitch and I'll fuck you till you pass out," he purred. His knee still had the demon pinned and he'd either have to fight him or ask nicely to be let up. Either worked for Griffin.

God the power made Balakai arch under him, despite his will to rage against it. Made him writhe against the restriction, but not so hard as to truly fight. Not so hard that Griffin couldn't keep him pinned. Burnished gold eyes slid towards scarlet, like a glory of sunset in gilt and blood at odds to the dawn rising outside. His head lifted from the floor of the kitchen, the muscles of his neck tensed hard and sharp under the fair of his skin.

"No," he growled, meeting Griffin's mismatched gaze. Daring him to do something about his refusal. No small part of him was curious, for all that he couldn't but fight. It was a fundamental part of him, as deep ingrained as his attraction to power.

"No?" The word was echoed back as a question, almost benign. His gem-hued eyes lit like sunlit stained glass. He watched the cycle of colors in Balakai's and he reveled in the blood color of them, the way his teeth went sharp with the want to rend flesh from bone and how he strained against the sudden violence. It made him ache with desire and flooded him with hot want because he was near drunk on power and here he could. He wanted the demon to ache for him in turn, to fight and gnash his teeth and still relent under him. He wanted him to need him so badly that he was choking with it. Griffin wanted everything from Balakai, his lust, his laughter, and his hatred. He wanted to be possessed, and to possess in turn. 

The witch shifted just a little and pressed his knee down that much harder in the place where lungs met. Leaned his weight on him and pulled some of the magic of him into muscle and sinew to grant him more than his normal human strength. He grabbed Balakai's wrists and pulled them from his leg, his hands becoming shackles to bind him, expression mocking.

"You're practically panting, you want me so bad. You want to be on your knees with my cock in your mouth and me dripping down your chin. You fight, but what you want is to arch under me and let me rend you asunder. It's lovely, is it not? Power. You want to taste it, want me to let you lick it from my skin like blood." Griffin’s voice was full of promise and magic, black cherry and anice.

There was a moment when Griffin's hands caught Balakai’s wrists and pulled them up that he fought. Muscles tensed to just remain, nails digging in. And his eyes flashed just a little wide for a heartbeat when the witch's magic-borrowed strength forced his fingers open and pushed his hands above his head. The moment he realized just how much he'd been secure in the fact that regardless of else, he could physically overpower Griffin.

Now he was caught in the heart of Griffin's magic, and he could not simply take. Certainly he might have shed his human guise but now, on his back, it would almost be more hindrance than help. And god the energy cost to do so again so soon after turning back when his life was not, he thought, truly in danger.

Token resistance turned to earnest struggle as he arched into the knee on his chest, lifting Griffin a little but then driven down again as he pressed into his chest and kept him from filling his lungs. He snapped at the hands that held his wrists, pulled against them and the whites of his eyes flashed a little too much. But he didn't deny the accusations. Did nothing but snarl, the pitch high and vicious as he twisted his hands in Griffin's grip to sink claws into him and at least make him bleed for the privilege.

This was a dangerous play. Of that Griffin was keenly aware. He knew that he was only this brave because he was burning with magic and the dark that lingered for only moments more before the sun would break the horizon and paint the world in light. Balakai would well remember and Griffin knew he would pay for it when he let down his guard. The demon would make him bleed and scream, and likely die. It would be messy and terrible and he didn't care. Right now, he wanted to own him, frighten him, bring him low and lord over him in majesty as he could do nowhere else on the face of the earth.

He felt the sharp dig of claws as they ripped at his hands. Pain rippled up his arms and along the nerves of his hands and it made him shiver because all of it was pleasure. 

"Oh yes," he smiled, eyes heavily lidded with want. "Give me your rage, my pet. I am starving for your violence." 

There was a thread of hunger in his voice gone dark and sultry. It was black current and ash and forests of decay. It was laden with the wild of one who had known death a thousand ways and feared almost nothing. Who valued almost nothing. Who wanted everything. And right now, what he wanted most, was in his hands. 

Griffin leaned down, knowing the danger of the sharp teeth as he nuzzled Balakai's chin up and ran his tongue along his jaw. He nipped under his ear, weight still on him. "I remember that you like it when I bring you ruin," he whispered as he pulled Balakai’s earlobe between his teeth, worrying it hard and moaning as he did.

Breath strained in the demon’s throat, to fill his chest as much as he could with the weight of the witch on him. His legs kicked ineffectually at the floor behind, and there was the scrape of claws on the hardwood as he tried to get leverage to buck Griffin off him. His body surged under him, hard muscle and demon strength. Yet the shadows around them did not move. Balakai was not magically adept. It took a certain state of mind to call the shadows to his will and right now his focus was narrowed on Griffin.

He didn't let his chin be pushed up but rather tucked down, teeth snapping on empty air as he tried to keep Griffin from closing with him. Shuddered under the brush of lips along his jaw and ear as he tried to keep him from getting at him. The words whispered hot in his ears broke a long, low whine from him under the snarl and for a moment he relaxed. Just minutely. Settled against the wood. 

Then he lunged hard against the hands that held his wrists, twisting to try and get teeth into Griffin. There was a sick, soft pop as his shoulder wrenched from its socket and he managed to get less of Griffin than he wanted, teeth just shredded flesh and causing crimson blooms on the white of his skin. 

The witch cried out in pain, though the sound of it was laced with deep satisfaction, threads of pleasure that held him together as the sharp teeth found purchase and parted flesh from bone. He was glad that he had the moment of foresight to shed his shirt, for the spellwork would’ve been costly to replace. Blood ran down his front and back and he arched away as the demon moved and nearly upended him, sending him tumbling off to the side where he slammed his head into the side of the island. 

Griffin could feel the trickle of blood there too and he laughed, almost giddy, and definitely inappropriately for the anger he'd roused in the demon and his willingness to do him harm. His hand shot out and only just stopped him from biting into him again by fisting hard in his hair.

"No wrecking my things," he chided, but there was something else in his tone too. Power that laid claim. That made it clear that for all that Balakai considered Griffin his, the opposite was true as well.

Balakai snarled and pulled against the hand fisted in his hair, breath panting harshly from his lung as he tried to catch it. His arm caught, half useless, under him as he had twisted to try and follow Griffin's fall to chase the taste of blood on his teeth and lips. He curled in, drawing his knees up between their bodies, pushing away from Griffin to try and free himself, though his struggle had lost a little of its violence.

His eyes dropped from Griffin's, face turning a little away as much as the hand in his hair allowed. He caught himself and jerked his chin up to drag his gaze back to the shattered jewels of Griffin's eyes. 

"What are you going to do about it?" His voice was low and rough.

Griffin watched him for a moment, the struggle to both turn away and not to relent and his attention sharpened before he moved. Stood in an elegant and fluid motion that pulled the demon to follow him by his hair as if he weighed nothing. He dragged him over to the huge, old, oak dinner table, dodging the swipe of claws and the bite of teeth. He would show him what power looked like in this place. 

Balakai didn't make it easy. Made Griffin drag him despite the fact that his scalp screamed for the pain of it. He growled furiously when the witch evaded his claws with the deftness of mastery. It made him feel small. It made him feel like an animal.

And while he was, he didn't like to be reminded of it so forcibly.

It was no small thing to haul him up over the end of the table, the dislocated shoulder giving Griffin further advantage for the moment. He took his free hand and grabbed for the wrist of the unhurt arm and pinned it to the table as he slammed his knee between the demon's thighs to keep him pinned face down while he spoke words that made the wood of the table move and form a shackle over Balakai's wrist. Another joined it around his upper arm to secure the demon. He yanked on the arm that was dislocated and did the same, stretching the demon's arms out painfully.

"Stay," he commanded. He wasn't worried about Balakai getting loose. The wood was old and strong. The magic was stronger.

Balakai thrashed as he was pinned over the table, regardless of the injury to himself. Snarled and kicked as the magic washed over his skin and raised gooseflesh, all hair standing on end. He shuddered, the adrenaline spiking along his spine making his blood run cold in his veins for all that the demon burned hot. Then Griffin drew the dislocated arm up and it forced another sharp whine from between his teeth. Balakai’s eyes squeezed closed and he pressed his cheek into the wood, momentarily still as he waited for the white of agony to fade from behind his eyelids. It lingered though, with the shoulder still not reset, and he whimpered. It was a very soft sound, half muffled against the wood.

As the sun rose and filled the kitchen with pale light, Griffin left the demon in silence. Millie would not help him. She knew better than to interfere with her Master's work. The neighbors were a mile away and would not hear. There was only the quiet and the dawn and the world beginning to wake, to watch. 

Griffin left him for a fair while. The demon couldn’t tell how long. There was only the occasional sound of the floor above creaking with Griffin's footsteps. Leaving him alone left the demon to think, for better or for worse. The absence of Griffin's presence cleared his head except for the pain. That did not fade, prevented from healing properly by dint of his bonds holding it out of position and he couldn't get the right leverage to push it back. He spent some time trying though, swearing at his own stupidity until he abandoned the task and instead just lay sweating and shivering on the table, each breath escaping him with a little soft whimper he tried to suppress in the overwhelming quiet of the kitchen.

 The pressure in the room changed as the witch returned. As if the magic bleeding off of him made the very air itself react. Griffin studied Balakai for a long moment. He looked so helpless there in Griffin's shirt half hanging off of him and nothing else, arms stretched above him and hips at the edge of the table just so. It made his cock give a little jump, just looking at the pretty of it. He enjoyed it because he doubted very much that he'd see it again any time soon. 

When the witch finally returned and the demon jerked his head up to try and look at him, then dropped his brow back to the wood with a sharp, reedy whine when it pulled against his shoulder. Further, he resisted the instinct in him that rose to fawn over Griffin's return. Instead he let out a low, huff of growl.

"What am I going to do about it?" Griffin repeated the demon's question back at him very quietly, knowing full well Balakai could still hear him even if he remained out of sight. "The better question is what do you want me to do? Because for all the fight in you, that's not all there is." 

“Set my shoulder, or let me out so I can do it myself." The words growled out, low and sullen.

"Why?" Griffin asked with a dark chuckle, not yet moving closer. "You did that to yourself. The price of such defiance seems... fair." 

There was quiet again and then he was almost in Balaki's ear, voice silky and amused. "Unless you would like to make a trade. What will you give me, Balakai who stole himself from Hell?"

He remained out of the demon's line of sight, but ran a gentle play of fingers up his spine that resolved near his shoulder in a sharp rake of nails that left behind little trails of blood to stain the fair skin and dark ink there.

Balakai jumped at Griffin's voice so close, then stilled at the pain that lanced through his shoulder. For all he could do himself grievous harm and recover, and had done far worse to himself in pursuit or escape, he did not enjoy pain that he did not specifically go seeking. He liked pleasure with his pain, not the stabbing agony and discomfort of a joint dislocated in fear and anger. He grit his teeth and growled.

Griffin's voice remained gentle. "It's that rudeness that got you into this mess." 

There was another long beat of quiet. Then, softly, "Please?"

It echoed in Griffin, the single quiet word, reverberating in the dark and hungry places of him that craved this. That wanted Balakai to have to bend to his will. It made him shiver and whatever he paid later for this would be well worth it. He smiled and one hand braced along the demon's back, the other finding purchase on the dislocated limb. He felt the ball of it snap back into place. Balakai flinched and gasped as his shoulder was summarily re-located, and just lay shivering and panting against the wood.

 Something very cold and hard brushed against the demon's inner thigh and Griffin spoke in his ear again, voice all honey and pleased. "I was just going to take you hard and cold, but you did such a good job asking nicely. I'll consider letting you warm my cock with that insolent mouth of yours before I do. If you do it again." 

The glass of the strap on cock pressed against his entrance ever so lightly.

Balakai jumped at the brush of cold glass against his thigh, and he kicked, squirmed in place, though more subdued as he waited for the agony of his shoulder to recede. It would take longer than Griffin was giving him for it to truly heal, but at least it was no longer continuing to be damaged.

He considered Griffin's proposal, head tilted a little as if he were trying to look back over his shoulder at him. He wiggled against the hard and cold of him, against the binding on his wrists, nails digging furrows into the wood table top. Then he lifted his chin and arched his back, despite the strain of it, lifting himself up onto his toes and pushing his ass in the air, knowing quite well the kind of sight he made. 

"Fuck you."

"As you like," purred the witch as he leaned back and fisted the demon's hair in a hand again, pulling his head back as far as he could. He'd slicked the glass before he'd come back down, polite as he was, and so after he'd used his other hand to position himself he braced the other at the small of Balakai's back before he drove into him without any other preparation, hard to the hilt with a pleased huff of breath. 

The demon hissed at the sudden, sharp intrusion, the breath forced out of him as he was pressed into the table. His cock, caught against the edge of the table and down between his legs the way he was bent over, jumped and twitched despite the way he squirmed almost uncomfortably on Griffin's cock, panting and whining softly. There was only so far his head could be pulled back with the severity with which his arms were trapped, but his body arched to try and accommodate, to try and relieve the pressure. 

The other end inside of Griffin was no less hard and unyielding and rubbed against all the sensitive places within him. He leaned down and ran his tongue up the blonde's spine, tasting the blood he had brought to the surface, pausing at the formerly dislocated shoulder to give him a bite and worry the skin to raise more color to it. 

Contrary to how he'd manhandled him earlier, when Griffin began to move he was slow. He wanted to watch the demon move, to hear the catch of breath and feel the muscles beneath him. 

Balakai’s eyes closed to mere slits as Griffin began to move and he moaned and tried to press back into him, settling into a little rolling motion that was really as much as he could do. Matching the slow and easy pace that the witch set.

Griffin let some of the magic of him loose, let it color the air and bleed into his skin. Power and control and passion as he moved against Balakai with deliberate strokes, fingers slowly easing in his hair as he started to lose himself to the thing. To the feel of him that bled through the glass, warm and sliding and sensation. He moaned low and wanton. 

"God I love fucking you. The sight of you speared on the end of my cock will never grow old and if it’s the last thing I ever see, this life was well worth it."

"Yes," Balakai moaned, whatever defiance and reluctance had pushed him to fight slowly bleeding away in the feeling of Griffin's teeth worrying his skin and the wash of magic that made the air light. His nose was full of the sharpness of ozone and the way the world felt when the sky was black with clouds but the rain was only a suggestion in the distance and a faint scent on the wind. As the fingers in his hair eased, the demon's head dropped back to rest against the table, shoulders rounding despite the pain of it as he pulled against the restraints to try and move back against Griffin more.

As they had discovered from the first, in this they always met. Desire with desire and heat with heat. It did not matter so much what had come before, or what waited after. In this place that was the slip of skin and magic, everything else went quiet. The gnawing hunger and demand that was the price that Griffin would always pay for power was fed, and in Balakai it feasted most especially. The dark and violent and elemental of him. He was a hound of hell, one of those who had been before even the angels had fallen from above to lay claim to the shadowy realm of the abyss. There were things that had existed in that darkness before even the first word had been spoken by other powers; and just as Faerie had existed before the Tuatha had come and made their covenant with that sentient place of magic, so had there been creatures in the light and in the darkness before powers had come to lay claim to them. The magic that coursed through the witch was most pleased with this first darkness, that which was truly unclaimed by else. 

Balakai was a delicacy and Griffin delighted in the feast.

His mind was quiet save for the feel of Balakai beneath him; the sound of ragged breath in lungs and a heartbeat that was faster than human. The heat of skin that always echoed the lingering of the hell from which it had come. Griffin ached for him, atop him, and his hands left dark bruises at his hips as he moved in him. He wanted more. Always more. He wanted everything. He fucked into Balakai deep and slow, awash in the scent of sex and desire and dried herbs in the room around them. He spoke broken words as he struggled to form them in his mind through the feel of pleasure and desire. The wood unraveled from around the demon's wrists and arms, let him go. It returned to the still surface as if it had never transformed and if the witch was worried about what Balakai would do now that he was free, it did not show in his expression.

Balakai arched as he was freed, ignoring the stubborn ache of shoulder as he reached back to wind his arms around Griffin's neck. Arch his body and make it so that each thrust rubbed along the front of him and made the moans that came with every breath broken with little gasps and whimpers. He was not the kind to deny himself that which he desired. He had been beaten by magic, bound and possessed and for now that was enough. He gave into the want of him that always burned hot with the witch. 

It might have been plain curiosity that had kindled his obsession, but from the moment Griffin had laughed, laying on his back in the alley, throat hoarse from use and body burning with his seed, obsession had become possession. The brilliance of Griffin’s eyes, too bright and something in them that reminded Balakai of mania when he invited the demon home.

And now, wreathed in Griffin's power, he was helpless but to want him. He stopped fighting the base instinct of him and instead sought more of the touch of Griffin's skin, tilting his head back against the witch's shoulder. Turned his head to brush lips delicately along his jaw and earlobe- softly, almost sweetly, as his breath sobbed out of his throat.

Hands that bore the scars of a hundred kinds of death snaked up from Balakai’s hips to pull the demon closer, caressed up his chest and slid against skin because Griffin could not get enough of him. The sound of his breath like that, the way Balakai had gone almost soft, in what Griffin was not fool enough to take for actual submission, and the way he pressed into him as he slid in and out of him firmly but not rough... it was everything. He leaned into him and smiled and his eyes slid closed so that he could simply exist here in this place and know nothing else. No other need, no other sensation; only the pleasure and heat that burned between them and would, he knew, light everything around them on fire one day. 

Griffin fucked him tenderly over the table that his brothers had fashioned with their own hands. It was one of the few things that had survived the fire that had claimed the Summerville's in the hate of Christian's father and the fear of the small men who had gone along with him. Griffin had made sure every one of them, and their lines, had vanished from the earth. There were places where the ground was still unproductive because he had been so thorough in his vengeance. He had murdered the guilty and innocent alike. Now, only he remained. And a few things that tied him to a life long gone. Like the table. And his mother's teapot. The quilt on his bed, and a few trees that were ancient enough to have borne witness. 

"Someday... if I ask you... will you find a way to end me? Would you do that for me, Balakai?" His voice was a whisper in the demon’s ear, a plea and passion and desire so heavy it was the weight of the world. He felt himself drawing up to climax and it felt like the build of lightning, wild with magic and want.

It was a weird combination of soft and tense, as Balakai moved with ardor against Griffin but equally had gone soft in the witch's arms. He was forced on his toes by the height difference of them, even bent over the table and he could feel the slow build of pleasure as he arched and the angle of them pushed the smooth glass head over every sensitive place inside him. Almost gentle, but nonetheless relentless. 

He blinked slowly, eyes hazy as he tried to focus on Griffin's words and his response was petulant and a little scattered, broken by little shudders and moans. "No.... like you here. In me. Under me." He whined and squirmed, rocking his hips back and threading his fingers though the auburn strands of Griffin's hair. 

"Faster, please?"

Griffin's eyes slit open and for a brief moment he held his breath, just looked into the crimson eyes of the demon beneath him and held him as they moved. He was not exactly disappointed by the answer. It simply wasn't the one he'd actually expected. He did not know exactly how long Balakai had walked the earth or if he was even capable of feeling lonely, but there was something in the confession that made Griffin sigh and smile against him as he kissed the top of his head and held him closer still. 

Maybe they were too alike, incompatible with anyone or anything else in the world. That, for all of the blood and destruction, the horrible and the contrary, they somehow managed to fit together.

He nuzzled him close and let a sigh of breath caress Balakai's neck. "Of course. For you... anything..."

Griffin braced against him with one arm, held him to his chest tightly, possessively, and the other slid down along his belly to take the demon’s dripping cock in his other hand. He thrust faster, sank into him deep and hard with a little huff of breath every time he hilted him, his own voice growing ragged as he felt pushed ever closer to the edge.

Balakai whimpered as Griffin took him in hand and it wasn't long before the whole of him trembled and twitched, muscles tightening as he came. Spilling hot over Griffin's fingers and across the table. He held tight to Griffin and didn't say a word for him to stop, or try to pull away even as he shuddered and the whole of him lit on that edge of over-sensitive in the afterglow of orgasm, breath coming in soft whimpers and moans that were nothing if not encouragement.

Balakai's world was consumed by the pleasure of self. When he was bored, he found that with which to occupy himself. When he was hungry he ate. When he lusted, he found partners or just wallowed in self-pleasure. When he was lonely, he found company. It did not feed every need of him, but it kept him well comfortable and occupied. Some part of him that had often been only lightly attended by passing companionship was settled with the feeling that he intended to keep Griffin's company. 

The demon’s climax sent shivers up Griffin's spine and made him moan low in his throat. He liked knowing that he had done that to him. That he knew his body so well he could make it do as he wished was ultimate pleasure for him at this moment. Too, that they could go from rough and bloody to soft and satisfied. He did not have to be any one thing. Did not owe any apology or have to explain himself. Nor did he expect such things from Balakai. He thrust into him for a few minutes more until at last he couldn’t take it, until he was brought over the climax of pleasure and shook violently against him. 

Griffin held him close and rode out the pleasure with him, gave his cock slow strokes with his messy hand and let his breathing find its way to something familiar. He nuzzled the messy blonde hair and kissed along his neck and down to his shoulder. 

"If you will not someday end me, then you will have to stay and stave off the endless boredom. Burn the world with me and I will only leave you wanting when you ask for it." His voice was magic and longing and desire, it was sated and content and quiet. He rested his cheek on Balakai's shoulder and just held them both up, not yet pulling out of him.

It was a little strain, even with Griffin's grip on him, to stay up on his toes as Balakai shivered in the after effects. Felt the deep satisfaction of Griffin shaking against him as he too came. And just... sighed, because he had no real words to say, muscles trembling and body sated. He turned his head up towards Griffin's, lips softly parted though he did not seek to initiate anything else at the moment.

"As long as you are entertaining," he purred low. "But I like fire."

The witch breathed slowly and just stood there for a minute or so more before he shifted his hips and drew out of Balakai with a slow sigh of lingering satisfaction. That was as much assurance as he'd ever really get from Balakai, and that was fine. He understood. He had always understood, from the first. He kissed the hurt shoulder again and slowly stepped back, making sure that Balakai would be alright on his feet as he carefully eased away from him. He almost instantly missed the heat of the demon against his chest as he unbuckled the strap and crossed over to dump it in the sink. Millie would take care of it later. 

And the mess on the table. 

And the discarded clothing. 

He gave a low chuckle and returned to the demon's side, giving his ass a little slap, though he slid his arm around his hip and pulled him close once more. "C'mon, pretty. Sleep now. Then we grab a few more things and head back to the city tonight. We have trouble to get into." 

By trouble, he meant murder.