Match Made In...?
The Masters felt the surge of power as the spiritual doors to
the Makai opened, and smiled at each other in anticipation of
their Mistress' return. Those who had scoffed that she would be
triumphant in the Ningenkai would surely feel her wrath now!
They were relieved that the noble blood of the Aenslaed still
ran true even in the youngest of their number.
"Mistress!" The swelling shout went up as the actual physical
doors opened and Morrigan strode through, her battle dress
already resolving about her into the casual lines of loose white
blouse and tight red pants -- "Morrigan fashion" they were
beginning to call it. Those who had been unwilling to ally
themselves to her, even to aid her in some small fashion, were
silent and resentful . . . and beginning to be a little afraid.
But even as the first glad cry rose, it dwindled almost as fast.
Morrigan was not alone. Someone large, dark and feral came in
right behind her . . . almost beside her. Silence settled over
the inhabitants of the great meeting hall as they began to
wonder who this person was.
"Mistress Morrigan!" the eldest master called. "We are glad in
your triumph. Surely you have conquered. Surely you have --"
Then he understood who he was seeing at her side . . . at her
SIDE??? "Demitri Maximoff! Mistress, why have you brought this
outcast, this rebel, into the Demon World? Your greatest rival,
the enemy of our family . . . "
Morrigan stood dead center of the hall, a small mischievous
smile making at least half of the observers cringe inwardly,
wondering what plans were going through her devious mind. A
smiling Morrigan was rarely a good thing for any who opposed
her.
"You are mistaken, Elder, if you think I have brought an enemy
among us. I have not. This is my ally, my husband, and soon to
be king of the demon realms."
Gentle reader, you might imagine the uproar to this
announcement, from resentful vassal families and relatives both,
while Morrigan stood, smiling. She turned that smile to her
tall companion, and with turquoise eyes gleaming, said: "I told
you this would be fun."
Demitri merely grinned. Ah, she loved that grin, full of fierce
passion and a mouthful of sharp vampire teeth. She had felt
those teeth, only a few hours before, sinking into her . . . mm,
even the memory made her feel lighter. She hadn't felt so alive
. . . in a long time.
"I hesitate to correct you, Lady," he said in a low voice for
her ears alone, "but I am not technically your husband . . . yet
. . . " The grin remained, widened in fact, for Demitri did not
have to say what act would complete the union. She knew.
Marriage was a rather simple affair among demons, usually more
for gains of title, property or power than for love, but even
such cold-blooded marriage had to begin with the act of
intimacy. It was proof that both parties were honest in their
intentions to make a partnership, even to produce children from
it.
"Ah, but you wouldn't kill my enjoyment of announcing it rather
early?" she asked and batted her eyes at him in a coquettish
manner so unlike her that he laughed aloud.
His laughter rang in the silence that suddenly settled,
uneasily, in the chamber.
"Mistress -- "
"You can talk among yourselves. I care not." She put her hands
on her hips and regarded the demons about her, more than half of
them ancient beyond reckoning. "I went into the human world to
defend our realms. I went alone; no one helped me. I went
gladly, for a true demon loves to fight that which proves a
challenge. I even considered not returning, for I have come to
realize that we have turned into pathetic beings . . . more
interested in gain than glory, more interested in
self-protection than honor. I have found someone whom I can
respect. I do not care what you personally think of this.
Whatever you would say to me would not change my decisions or my
feelings in the slightest."
Demitri slid his eyes at her upon hearing this remarkable
speech. Ah, a woman after my own heart, he thought with rough
affection. Beautiful and blood thirsty, and worth more than all
the demons in the Makai. An absolute treasure.
"Lady Morrigan," a sarcastic voice rang down. Demitri cast a
dark eye on the speaker, one of the young males on his own
balcony, a nobleman by the look of it. "You've rejected
marriage with all houses in our realms, refusing men whose blood
was noble and true, and you would marry this warmonger . . .
this mongrel above the rest of us? He has been cast out by your
very family for attempting what he gains with you . . . you will
hand over the demon world on a platter for his consumption?"
Morrigan turned a displeased face to Demitri. "Husband, do you
care to respond to this?" she asked.
"With pleasure," the vampire lord replied. Hardly glancing at
the demon in question, he added: "For fools such as this forfeit
their lives to you." A bold of energy burst from one arm and
sent the demon flying from his high balcony to land with a
cracking thud onto the floor in front of them. "For you, Lady."
"Demitri, you truly know how to please a woman," Morrigan said,
smiling at the crippled demon at her feet.
"Consider it a courtship gift."
"I didn't know you were such a romantic."
"You can bring out the worst in a man."
"Oh I really enjoy this witty repartee." She glanced at the
demons above and around them. "Any other comments? No? What a
surprise." She slipped her slender arm through his and motioned
for the eldest of her advisors to follow, while saying to no one
in particular: "Ahh! I'm so longing for a relaxing bath and
some time alone with my husband."
Once in the private corridors of the castle, her advisor did not
waste words. "Lady, if this is your will, I can hardly stop
you; you after all have done more for our realm in the last
fifty years than your predecessors have done in a thousand.
However, if this is the path to take, I suggest you consummate
the marriage immediately before any dissenters have time to try
to annul it."
Demitri studied the wrinkled old demon, lifting a brow. He
almost hesitated in asking --
Morrigan glanced at him, looking vaguely embarrassed. "He just
knows. We can talk about this in private."
He shrugged. "It hardly matters since . . . "consummation" is
next on the agenda." He bowed slightly to his "wife." "Unless
Milady wanted the bath first?"
"Always the gentleman," Morrigan said dryly. "Why not both at
the same time?"
The elderly advisor blushed. "Milady --"
+=+=+=+=+=+=
Demitri followed her into chambers huge and sumptuous. Despite
her relative youth, he was glad to see her taste was as gothic
as his, perhaps more so. He would have to find out where all
that black marble was from.
There were female servants waiting, but she waved them off.
Once they caught sight of him, they did not argue. Their exodus
was so fast that even Morrigan looked surprised as she glanced
at him.
"I have that effect on people," he said, deadpan.
There was a moment of awkward silence, where Morrigan seemed to
be getting used to the idea of a man in her chambers, and he was
wondering what he should do.
No, he was wondering HOW he should do what he had to do. What
THEY had to do. He shook his head. Despite his vampiric
lifestyle, he hadn't really been close to anyone in centuries.
Human women bored him; it was like envisioning sleeping with
cattle. Those few female Darkstalkers that had attempted
seduction were also usually attempting murder.
Until Morrigan, he had thought that part of himself long dead,
and that blood and power were the last two drives left to him.
"You wanted to take a bath," he reminded her as she hesitated.
"And you were going to tell me how your old friend knew so much
about our . . . lack of intimacy."
She nodded. "It's a little embarrassing."
"I imagine so."
"The flow of my power changes when I'm -- "
Demitri Maximoff was not stupid. "Ah, I see. He's known you
since you were a child, hasn't he?"
"He would have known if I'd lost my virginity." So saying, she
turned toward the bathing chamber. "Did you want to bathe,
too?"
Demitri blinked once. "Are you telling me that there's not one
demon in the whole of the Makai that --?"
"I am rather picky," she added over her shoulder. "Are you
coming?"
"Not quite yet," he rumbled.
She shrugged and disappeared into the other room while he ran
this little fact through his mind. A virgin succubus? Was that
rarer than a vegetarian vampire? They weren't born having sex,
so he supposed succubi had to be virgin at one point or another
. . . and she was fairly young . . .
He sat down in the largest chair he could find and pondered the
new development. It didn't really change anything, just the
'how' part. Oh, and a virgin's blood . . . actually, he never
had had virgin blood. Maybe it was a wives tale, like
crucifixes.
Intermittent splashing got a hold of his attention and he went
to join her in the bath, transforming his clothing into a robe.
Her eyes lit up as he strode into the chamber. She leaned her
chin on her arms on the rim of the small pool and showed her
teeth.
"What were you doing in there?"
"Thinking." Why not tell the truth?
She frowned slightly. "Is it really so awful, me being a
virgin?"
Awful wasn't quite the word he had in mind. Surprising, maybe.
Unusual. Intriguing.
Something of what he was thinking must have filtered to his face
because she looked pleased suddenly. "I'm glad," she said.
"The water is wonderfully hot. Do you like it hot?"
He wasn't sure if that was a double entendre or what. Her face
was perfectly innocent and matter-of-fact.
"Very hot," was all he said, since it answered both questions.
He willed away his robe and descended into the water beside her,
watching her watch him. She made no secret of examining him as
he slid into the water. He was grateful that Morrigan wasn't
shy. They didn't have forever for her to get used to the idea
of sex.
"Are all vampires like you?" she asked curiously, then amended:
"Physically, that is?"
There weren't many of his kind left in the Makai. It was a
natural question.
"No. I am bigger than most." He hadn't meant it in any other
way but generally, but perversely she took it in a sexual way,
and smiled outright. "And uglier."
Her eyebrows lifted at that. "Do you sincerely think so? Well,
I have no other vampires to compare you with, but I hardly think
you ugly."
He aimed his malevolent, black eyes at her. "You have strange
taste, Lady."
"Oh, most certainly," she agreed, taking up her sponge and soap.
"Turn around; I'll wash your back."
He knew the torture was just beginning.
+=+=+=+=+=+=
Morrigan couldn't believe her own audacity. She had no clue how
to approach what had to be done and was charging right ahead as
if she knew everything. She was amazed that Demitri was so
patient.
Unless, of course, Demitri couldn't care less one way or
another.
Her hands paused on his back at the thought. Slowly she looked
down at what she was doing. There was a shelf for sitting and
she was kneeling on it to get to his shoulders. She wished he'd
turn and look at her. He seemed not at all curious about her.
But then the only time she really knew he wanted her was when he
had fed from her; it had come to her in a burst of sensation.
Heat. Need. Then it had faded as his hunger had subsided.
Perhaps she had mistaken hunger for desire?
Sighing, she scrubbed at the hard bulging muscles along her
shoulders. Ah, but what a wonderful specimen he was! Made like
a statue, every muscle delineated and wonderful . . . living
sculpture. It wouldn't be so bad to have him, even if he didn't
really want her. Marriage wasn't usually about desire anyway,
right?
She wished she could start thinking rationally around him,
instead of thinking with what was between her legs. She ought
to be thinking politically. Demitri wasn't just some man she
decided to marry; he was a powerful vampire who had more than
once tried to conquer the Makai. He was ruthless, savvy, blood
thirsty . . . mmm.
There I go again, she thought wryly. Maybe this will stop once
I've had him. Maybe this is a virgin thing.
"Morrigan," Demitri rumbled.
"Hm?"
"Do you truly want this marriage?"
"Yes." She had been expecting that question. Her heart sped up
just a little as she concentrated, working her way down his
spine. "You're worth more than all the men in the Makai put
together. I told you that I fell for you. Didn't you believe
me?"
He was silent. "What do you get out of it?"
So he was absolutely on the political train of thought, was he?
How disappointing. She had been hoping he was warming up to
her.
"I get a powerful ally who understands my need for glory and for
victory, and who's not afraid to use his powers for what he
wants." That sounded detached, she realized. "I also get a man
I want more than any man I've known." Then she decided to throw
in her trump card. Why not? "Also, my power increases
dramatically once I'm breached."
"Increases?" Was that worry in his voice? No, not possible.
"There were some anxieties when I was born -- that I might come
into my power too early and not be able to control myself. The
last thing the Aenslaed family needs is one of their own causing
havoc. So a portion of my power was sealed until I lost my
virginity." She shrugged. "Actually, I've never really needed
it."
Silence again. What WAS he thinking?
"Demitri."
"Yes?"
"I understand if this marriage is political for you. Ruling the
Makai has been your goal for a long time. I know that just
because I want you, it isn't necessarily reciprocated. I'm not
quite that self-centered."
He tensed, the muscles under her hands hardening. Had she
managed to insult him? She didn't think so.
He pulled forward and turned on the bench, leaving her naked and
kneeling, with her hands still raised, completely bared to his
gaze. She forgot how to breathe. His eyes slowly inspected her
from her face down to her thighs and back up and she remembered
to lower hands, and then breathe.
"Morrigan." What was that in his voice? It sounded remotely
like blood lust.
She blinked in response.
"It is not entirely political," he said, and raised a large hand
to her jaw, the thumb brushing across her lower lip. "I'm not
quite that cold-hearted." He leaned over and kissed her, a very
small inquisitive kiss that had her sliding her arms about his
shoulders and pressing forward for more.
The world spun. What was she doing? This was insane. She
didn't even know that much about kissing and she was demanding
his response, trying to get closer. Was this succubus nature?
She wasn't sure.
On the other hand, she thought dazedly, he didn't seem to mind
at all. He was kissing her voraciously, raising her up to
straddle his thighs, his powerful hands kneading her back, her
buttocks, and then her breasts. The heat was so intense she
could barely open her eyes. Oh, this was so good . . . he was
so good at this . . .
He sank his teeth into her neck and the intensity went up
another degree, the pain and sweetness of his hunger taking her
higher. By all the gods, she was going to burn up, from the
inside out!
She moaned in disappointment when he slid them out and licked at
the wound on her neck. He had hardly taken any blood. She
forced her eyes open, to stare at him. Sitting on his thighs,
they were on the same level. That was nice. His ruthless face
with those burning eyes told her one thing: for him, this was
also a matter of desire.
His hands lifted her off of his lap. He stood up, water
sheeting from his muscular body, and offered a hand to her. She
took it, not quite in control of her own actions. She felt
boneless. He hauled her out of the water and proceeded to dry
her as she stood, blinking, only becoming aware when he knelt to
dry her between the thighs. Oh . . . that wasn't fair. He was
being extraordinarily gentle and thorough and she knew now, with
some embarrassment, that it was pretty obvious what she was
ready for.
For a split second their eyes met, and she knew . . . she KNEW
. . . he would be losing his patience soon.
And she couldn't wait.
+=+=+=+=+=+=
Later she would laugh at the memory. She let him carry her to
the bed, closing her eyes against his broad, hard chest. It was
easier than having to walk, to think or to separate herself from
those possessive hands.
He laid her gently dead center and stood back, looking at her.
She opened her eyes, wondering where he was, and found that
intense gaze working over her again. She let her own eyes drop
and follow the lines of his body, stopping and widening briefly
at the one thing she had avoided looking at earlier. Big just
didn't seem to be the appropriate word.
The idea of him inside of her, forcing that into her, made her
smile ferally.
"Lady, you are magnificent," he rumbled, and she was, both her
body and her spirit. He didn't think he'd be as attracted to
her this way had it not been for her fantastic fiery soul.
There were women more beautiful, more perfect physically, but no
woman who had her bravery and her passion.
She stretched her arms about her head and combed her bright
turquoise hair with her fingers, creating a nimbus on the pillow
behind her. "Then we make a perfect pair," she murmured, eye
half-closed.
Had he thought there were women more beautiful? Had he been
insane to think that? She was so beautiful this way, her fair
body stretched and waiting. He suddenly remembered the weight
of her breasts in his hands and the heat of her thighs over his,
how she had almost cried out when he had taken his teeth from
her. Majestic woman, and perfect for him.
He got on the bed, straddling her legs. Their eyes snared each
other's and she licked her lips, smiling cat-like. He almost
forgot to ask again.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, letting his hands run over
her hips and breasts. He paused there, stroking the nipples
until they were hard.
"Oh yes," she murmured, tossing her head. "Mm." She mentally
tracked his hands as they left her breasts and returned to her
hips. Then he was shifting backwards, and she could feel them
between her knees. Oh, yes.
Another shift of weight and she felt -- was that his mouth?! --
She shifted onto her elbows to see, surprised. Demitri was
working his way up her inner thighs with his lips and teeth. He
lifted his head briefly to look at her before using his hands to
spread her legs wide enough to accommodate him.
By all the gods -- she had not expected this . . . His fingers
probed her, investigating gently, parting her folds and testing
her wet heat. Was he looking at her? She closed her eyes.
Surely he wasn't going to --?
He was. His mouth and his tongue were there, lapping and
testing. She shivered, undulating, and then drew in a startled
breath. What did he just do? Again his tongue caressed
something that shot shivering heat through her and she arched
back, gasping. Oh gods, oh gods, what was he doing??? "Demitri
--!"
He withdrew and chuckled. Sitting up, he slid his fingers into
her slick heat and filled her as far as she would take him. He
watched her writhe and grunted as her inner walls tightened on
his fingers. It was pleasure just to watch her deal with this
newfound delight, but for the first time in centuries he was
impatient to push himself inside and FEEL . . .
Still thrusting in and out with his fingers, he maneuvered
himself between the wedge of her thighs. She was shaking and
moaning and he wanted in NOW, to see the pleasure turn into pain
and then turn into pleasure again. But he had to ask her again.
"Do you want this?" he asked hoarsely. He withdrew his fingers
and lifted her legs around him. Reaching down, he positioned
himself, and glanced up. Her eyes were wide and her chest was
heaving.
"Now, Demitri," she cried. "For the third time, yes!"
He slid himself in, groaning softly at her tight tight grip and
came up against the barrier of her virginity. He withdrew and
pushed in again. Grasping her hips in a grip that would leave
bruises, he withdrew a third time, and slammed hard to the core,
eyes widening as she took him completely even as she was
screaming in both gratification and suffering.
It was the oldest rhythm in the world, and he had forgotten its
power, how, once begun, it possessed you. He drove in again and
again, groaning. Morrigan was grasping at his shoulders, making
supplicating noises that he knew she would normally disdain as
weak.
When she bit at the juncture of his shoulder and neck -- gnawed,
really, because her teeth weren't sharp enough -- he almost
finished it prematurely. He could not remember the last time
someone had fed off of him. For a willing vampire, it was the
most intimate of moments.
He bent his neck, found the wounds he had made earlier in her
neck, and sank his teeth in again. Her little gasping moans
escalated, turning into a desperate song he recognized. Soon
now. Which was good because he could wait no longer.
He concentrated on a fast deep rhythm. The small amounts of
blood he took from her sent shocks through him, anticipating a
more earthly pleasure. When it came, it surprised him -- its
intensity. How had he forgotten this one elementary pleasure?
He triggered her or she triggered him; later, he was unsure who
began. He did remember that when she came, her inner walls
clenched on him, and he nearly shouted as she milked him as he
completed.
Later he asked: "Am I hurting you?" He knew he must be crushing
her under his superior weight.
And she said: "Oh yes", with a smile in her voice.
+=+=+=+=+=+=
When he roused from his lethargy, he recalled the saying about a
virgin's blood and went down to investigate, lapping at the mix
of fluid between her thighs. Interesting. He was ingesting
blood from his own semen, and blood from her broken hymen -- a
bittersweet nectar.
And he made her come, again.
Finally -- was it an hour later? -- she said: "You almost forgot
to ask the third time."
"Yes."
"That's a fine compliment. But I'm glad you remembered. I
don't think I would have been able to keep track on my own." She
was curled up on his side, head on one shoulder, and lazily
walked her fingers down his pectorals. "We're married, then."
Demitri smiled. Strange, but it didn't seem like such an awful
thing. "Is it true, what they say about succubi?"
She raised her head a little, frowning only slightly. "It
depends on what you've heard."
"Vampires are insatiable for blood, so perhaps it is true that
succubi are insatiable for sex."
She smiled mischievously. "Are you up to finding out?"
He was fairly certain THAT was a double entendre. "Is that a
question to ask a man? You know the answer."
"Do I? Maybe I should see for myself -- " Her fingers slipped
under the edge of the sheet they had haphazardly pulled over
themselves, and wandered down his stomach. "Well, what DO we
have here --?"
+=+=+=+=+=+=
"Milady, Messir --" The tentative knock roused Morrigan. She
slipped out of bed and materialized clothes to let her advisor
in.
"How does it go out there? Is it rebellion?" she asked, for,
despite the fact that she had been rather busy for several
hours, there was always the possibility in the back of her mind
that she and Demitri would have a fight ahead of them.
"No, Lady. The family stands behind you, and so do most of the
vassal families. There were a few dissenters, but it took
little to remind them of the status of your power, now that you
are no longer in the virgin state. Also, Lord Maximoff's
actions in the hall seemed to make them think twice about acting
on their ideas."
"He is very powerful," Morrigan agreed. "He is a good enemy and
a good fighter -- but as I have said, most demons don't want to
fight; they would rather defend."
"Lady, is all well? You've been in here so long --"
Morrigan grinned. "Let's just say that my choice of husband was
an excellent one on many fronts." She glanced behind them at the
bed. The large form of her Demitri seemed to dwarf that
particular piece of furniture. "I think I need a bigger bed."
"Y-yes, Milady."
"Let him rest. It's been a long day for him. If you would
choose loyal guards for the door and put a detection spell on
the chamber, I would like to talk to the council -- "
"Yes, Milady!"
She went back to the bed and kissed Demitri on the forehead.
"Husband? Will you rest here for awhile? I have some chaos to
straighten out on my own."
"Hm."
"I can send you a snack or two. We need to keep your strength
up."
At this, Demitri cracked an eye open. "You are too kind," he
said.
"I know, but please don't hold it against me." She kissed him on
the lips this time. "I'm off to work, Love. Don't arrange a
coup while I'm gone, all right?"
"I will endeavor not to," he rumbled, and turned over, falling
asleep again.
"I think I like married life," Morrigan said on the way out.
end
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