With Good Intentions

Warm hands rub my dick to total wakefulness and pull my body snug against a wall of muscle behind me. A tongue tip traces the nape of my neck. “Good morning, Frank.”

Kasimir. I throw an arm over his neck and run my fingers through his short, silken dark blonde hair. “Good morning.” I have to laugh as he rolls me over to face him and threads a foot between my legs. He’s all over me. I’m six foot two and thin; he slightly taller and muscular. Six feet three inches of demonic beauty. Um...Eternal beauty. They don’t call themselves demons. Eternals is what they prefer.

That did it. My stupid brain is awake now. I want to switch it off. I want to return to the flesh golem of erection and bliss that was me only seconds ago. Yesterday, I was a Necromancer, one of a few humans able to control demons who are employed by fiendeum companies like DemonCo to turn them into fuel. Today, I don’t know what I am. Kasimir was my demon familiar. Now, he’s my lover.

My mind still hasn’t accepted that part. It’s weird that I used to think he was a demon. I’ve never known anyone this pure, this good. I gaze into his eyes, gold even in the blanching dawn light. They are as gentle as spring sunlight, wise as an owl’s. We’ve only been a couple—what is it now? Just a day? I’ve only known him a few months, but it feels like it’s been lifetimes. Like in some unfathomable way, we’ve always been connected.

“Don’t worry about any impropriety,” he says in that sweet caramel voice of his. I wish that was what I was worried about. “Varalica is out hunting.”

I pull him into a kiss. When his pooka friend is in her snow tiger form, I could care less if she watches us, honestly. It’s everything else that freaks me out. I spent months chasing my ex, obsessing over him. I thought I loved him, but I wanted to own him. I went from that to confessing my love for Kasimir. I do love Kasimir. But should I? He said it himself—I’m a villain. Do villains deserve to be in love? Do they deserve to love beings such as Kasimir?

He’s chewing my ear wickedly while fondling my dick free. He’s puppies and ice cream with kittens and suntan lotion on top—but that’s not what I think of as he kisses his way down to my throbbing dick. He’s not only physically the hottest guy I’ve ever been with, he’s also the hottest fuck ever. In every possible way. It’s not just sex, either. It’s like soul-fucking. When he sucks my dick, I feel like I’m being encased in sunlight and safety.

He sucks me into the fortress of his warm mouth, enveloping me in darkness as my breath hisses from between my lips and stands before me in the cold, brittle morning light. He sucks me out of my fucking mind. I gasp, clutching fistfuls of moldering quilt. “Kasimir! What—oh god!” His tongue is everywhere, he’s Hoovering my brains through my dick slit, and his wet finger just jabbed up my ass. Not that I’m complaining. But fucking hell, my nice guy demon is practically raping me.

“Come on, Frank,” he says as he comes off my dick for a second. “Come on. Give it to me.”

That did it. On command. Like he’s the Necromancer this morning. I fill his mouth with gouts of frothy cum. I feel like my entire body just came on line. Our situation roars through my head like a freight train.

He, however, is still in love mode. Leaning in, he kisses me and smears my cumon my lips. He lets it rest on my mouth for a second before sipping it. My skin feels numb where my cum touched it. He tongues me hungrily. “We need to get dressed. She’ll be here any moment.”

I have to laugh. That’s what that urgency was about. I’m okay with Varalica walking in on us, but he’s not. It makes sense...I guess. I don’t know. She’s his best friend and sometimes is a snow tiger, winged horse, or fairy woman. I haven’t quite figured out the etiquette of their relationship. All I know is she’s kind of a ball buster, and she doesn’t like me.

I pull on my skivvies, ripped jeans, my New Order tee shirt, and my charcoal gray sweater. It’s that time of year you still need a sweater in the mornings—and some whole days are still chilly.  I glance over at Kasimir. He’s covering his beautiful body with the crappy track suit from DemonCo. His ‘slave clothes,’ as he calls them. Somehow we have to get him something else to wear. I have a fat load of cash from my last paycheck in my wallet, but Kasimir believes we are in danger—‘on the run,’ he says, which sounds cute because it sounds more modern American English than Eternal. I don’t know if he’s right. I guess I did free some demons, and they were considered DemonCo’s property. I guess I quit my job. They’re probably bummed about that. But it can’t be as bad as my drama queen demon thinks it is. I mean, The Cure is one of his favorite bands. Need I say more?

I hear the back door I broke into yesterday shudder open on its swollen frame. “Kasimir!” Varalica’s steps thud lightly on the wooden stairs. I can tell from the sound—and that she opened the door—that she’s in her fae form—that of a gray-skinned teen girl dressed in a black slip with white stockings and pointy suede boots—instead of the snow tiger form she probably used to hunt squirrels or whatever this morning.

Kasimir opens the bedroom door before she races into the room. Her light green eyes are wide in terror. “We have to leave. Now! I tried to lead them off, but I think they may have followed me.” She grabs him by the hand and tugs him toward the door.

“Who do you think followed you?” I ask. I’m on my feet now. The old floorboards creak beneath me. Through the window, I see tallow trees shaking in the distance, as if something large—quite large—and heavy is running through the forest. And it appears to be running in our direction.

Varalica huffs a strand of silver hair out of her face and scowls at me. “Demon Hunters. I couldn’t tell if there was a Necromancer with them, but I’m sure they were Demon Hunters.”

These days, Demon Hunters might be even rarer than Necromancers. My Demonology text book had a page on them, but they were more prevalent before the 1900s when companies like DemonCo began relying on Summoners and Necromancers to harvest demons. I shouldn’t be surprised DemonCo keeps a few of them on hand for situations like this, but it still lands as a blow. We aren’t safe. “Fuck!”

I chase Varalica and Kasimir down the stairs. We leave through the front door. Varalica shifts into the form she wore when I summoned her—a slender white horse with giant bat wings. Kasimir stands beside her and makes a step of his hands. I stare at him for a second before realizing what he’s expecting me to do. When we flew here from the top of the Treadwell Bridge, Kasimir carried me. That was bad enough. Varalica doesn’t even like me. And she looks slippery.

Oh, and I have acrophobia—fear of heights. Winged horses? No fucking thank you.

“We don’t have to fly, do we?” My voice is usually deep, but it comes out kinda squeaky.

“They’re on land,” says Varalica. “If we get above the clouds, they won’t see us.”

Above the clouds.....

“I’ll be with you.” Kasimir’s face is the picture of trustworthiness. “If anything happens, I’ll catch you.”

Only because I love Kasimir, I step onto his hand and let him help me settle onto Varalica’s back. “Pretend she’s a motorcycle,” he says. As if. Motorcycles don’t fly, and they have far less attitude than Varalica.

“I’ll try not to drop you,” she snorts. “Squeeze with your thighs and calves.”

Kasimir’s wings erupt from his body. I still don’t know how he does that. One minute they aren’t there, the next minute they are. Unlike most elgios, his wings are feathered. They’re breathtaking. The crashing of the trees is closer now. Kasimir springs into the air and flaps his wings. That’s when I hear the barking.

“They have a cerberus with them,” says Varalica.

If they have an Eternal with them, they aren’t alone. “That means a Necromancer must be with them as well.”

Varalica leaps into the air, beating her huge wings. I try to confine my vision to between her slender ears. There are a cluster of tallow trees in front of us. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of hitting them or of what happens next...they disappear.

I can’t even look anymore. My chest is tight and fear gnaws at every nerve in my body. I hear Kasimir’s voice above the beating of Varalica’s wings and the roaring in my ears. “I’m right here, Frank. Don’t be afraid.”

Unable to resist a glimpse of him, I peek in the direction I heard his voice and see him in all of his winged splendor. He’s so beautiful. My mentor at DemonCo, Mr. Fall, once said Kasimir looked like one of his daughter’s Malibu Ken dolls fucked an owl. That’s not an entirely inaccurate description. His wings remind me more of a hawk’s than an owl’s—but he does have amazing golden eyes. For a moment, his copper, bronze-striped wings with their silken feathers draw me away from the fact that we’re being hunted and I’m no longer on the ground. I’m flooded with that wave of luck and bliss I feel every time I look at him.

But bliss is for good people. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth. Some part of my brain realizes I’m choosing fear over love, but I don’t know why. I only know it feels safer somehow to embrace the darkness and try to pretend my life isn’t real.

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