The Demon Knows My Vice

With every thrust and every grunt, Moros relished the defilement of the pathetic little bitch underneath him. This was what brought the demented brute true joy! The sex was good, of course, reveling in delicious sensations he'd been deprived of for so, so long, but the real fun was the power he exerted over her; the control he wrested from her and left her powerless and under his subjugation. Knowing that he held her very life in his paws and she was too weak to prevent him from doing anything. It was the same control he had exerted over Rhea and his own daughters once upon a time. Now he would use it to break his sniveling little coward of a descendent and show her where faes like her belonged in the food chain. Nothing more than warm bodies to incubate a brute's pups and to satiate themselves with. Alastor should really be thanking him for the service he was doing reeducating her.

Every silent and mental cry of anguish that he was able to pull from her sent a ripple of vile satisfaction down the massive brute's spine, electrifying his every nerve in delightful ways. It made ravaging her all the more enjoyable to hear her cry out for him in such a manner. Mariah tried to twist her head around and he permitted her to look up at him, letting her meet his frenzied ebony gaze as it bore down on her, drinking in her pained responses like grotesque theatre. He was panting hard, practically salivating with lecherous glee, exerting all his strength with every piston of his hips into hers, driving her back and forth on the darkness. The paw on her hips dug his sharp claws into her tender flesh. He knew she could bleed here; he had done it before with the other fire-marked fae. He would mark her up as his before their time was done here.

Besides the sniveling cries of the fae he was violating, Mariah didn't make a sound or speak a word to him. Well, that was no fun! Moros snarled and flexed his paw over the back of Mariah's skull, crushing her face to the invisible ground and pressing his weight forward onto the back of her head, letting her feel the pressure of him bearing down on her. He could crush her skull like an egg beneath his paw if he desired it. She only lived by his good graces and he wanted to make sure she knew it. "That's it, Mariah, scream all you like! Nobody is coming to save you! You're mine in here!" he jeered between snarls, a manic laugh bubbling up in his chest amidst the heavy breathing that washed over the back of her neck. His hips moved with more frenetic urgency, slamming into her body with reckless abandon as if he would never have the chance to fuck her again. Back paws scrabbled and clawed at the darkness for leverage, his larger, more powerful body pulling hers taut into his to surround her—to engulf her.

Dark hellfire burned in his abyssal eyes, waiting for the moment she burst as much as he was craving his own release. He wanted to see her fully come undone, to hear her scream for help that would never come. He wanted to hear her break before he would give her the relief she so desired. Moros dug his claws into the thin skin of Mariah's scalp, feeling the wetness of fresh blood around his nails. The paw on her hips moved to press his claws into her side, dragging those sharp razors down through her soft flesh back to her hip, leaving a trail of bleeding cuts along her svelte side. Claiming her like a brute was meant to claim a fae. She would be his now, any time she fell asleep she would be right back with him again. He pressed through the tightness of her body, uncaring if he damaged her in his ruthless assault. He would have done anything to hear more of her screams. Blazing eyes commanded her to let go. Scream! Give up and scream!

"Moros"