Shadowglass

Sob. Whimper. Sniffle....



Ashley halts in a swift crouch on the ground, sweaty hair flopping in his eyes, claws crunching in the dirt. He sniffs into the shadows. A girl, hiding, bruised and lonely. The scent of her name floats on the air, sky and rain and flowers. Indra. It’s Hindi, or some fucking thing. Always he can smell their names, even when he couldn’t care less. His blood burns at the fresh meaty smell of her sorrow, and careless of breaking his glamour, he sweeps out a fevered wing and showers the wall with orange sparks to reveal her.

Dark hair straggles on skinny white shoulders. Black leather skirt crumpled in her lap, showing bruised legs. White arms wrapped around her addict-thin body. Tears streaking dust on her china doll face. Purple rose tattoo flashing on her strap-wrapped ankle. She gazes up at him, sly fear glazing her blue eyes.

With a hot flush of interest he recognizes her, the little pouty-mouthed waif in the biker kid’s shadow. Appolonnia’s stalkergirl, the one Apples nearly ripped a chunk out of at the Court after Ashley dragged her away from that metal-skinned loser. Childlike. Flowery innocence under a worldly façade. Not killmebeautiful, but prettysexy, like Apples. Wounded. Teaseable.

His fingers tingle with unnamable need. The old mischief ignites in his heart, tempering the rage just for a moment. He withdraws his glowing wing and edges closer, offering his hand. “Come out, Ella. I won’t hurt you.” Much.

She huddles tighter, licking ripped lips. There’s blood there, the marks of teeth. He inhales, and feels her. Shock. Disbelief. Disgust. Hunger. Her eyes cast about dully, unfocused, and her honeyflower scent hits him again. Enchanting. His blood tingles fresh like a garden, filling his desire, throbbing his pulse tight, making him rapidly, scorchingly hard. Something to break.

Goody.

Sweat trickles down his neck. He wipes his nose, uneasy in the raw light of strange flowery sympathy, and gestures at that syrupy blood on her mouth. “Who you hiding from? Did your boyfriend do that?”

Because I’d like to. Give me your mouth, your hands, your sweet flesh, those pretty bruised legs around me. In the club I’d tempt you with sparks, seduce you, dance against you with flame on my fingertips until your body weeps for me and we can spend an hour or two forgetting this shitty life. Easy enough. So why do I feel sorry for you? What’s this damn affection you’re making me feel?

She sniffles, artful, her tears brimming. “He tried to show me. I didn’t want to.”

He inhales again, that sly rosy magic, and his heart bleeds for her even as his mirrorwarped desire freshens. “Well, that sucks. Get yourself a better boy, darlin’.” He helps her up. Her wrist cools his burning palm, and his cock responds, smarting like sunburn. Would she feel like that inside, cool and smooth and soothing on his aching flesh? Desire strikes in his balls like a handful of matches. A bleeding, weeping little human girl. He swallows dry guilt and backs away. “Look, I’d better—”

“Can you show me?”

The smell of flowers dizzies him speechless. Surely he’s imagined that, the sudden pleading in her eyes. “What?”

Her fingers curl around his, gentle but sure, and suddenly her body’s against his, so cool and tiny, her little breasts plump on his chest. “Show me how I can please him. I don’t know what to do.”

Her lips brush his, so girlish and soft, and in an instant they’re kissing, his greedy flame licking her face. Sparks erupt stinging from his wings, and shuddering he folds her in his arms. She groans, and opens her little mouth to him. Her tongue fits soft and shy on his. Such a little girl.

His blood overheats. He tries to keep the kiss gentle, caressing her lips like they’re precious, teaching her with long sure licks what she’s meant to do. She responds with another groan, letting him taste her. He slides a careful hand to her breast, and her nipple flowers eagerly, swelling hard in his fingers. His desire burns hot and fast like oil, and before he knows anything about it, he’s on top of her on the dirty concrete under a sheet of flickering flame, sliding hungry fingers up her thigh.

She moans and claws at his hair, the rose petal scent of her desire dizzying him. He pushes her leather skirt aside, trying to be gentle, trying not to leave claw marks, but fuck it’s hard when she’s wild and innocent and hot for it at the same time. She’s cool between her thighs on his sweating hand, and when he touches her for the first time, she gasps and jerks like he’s shaken her awake.

She’s fresh and wet, her flesh soft. Carefully, he traces her little clit, so plump and ready for his mouth. He slides a finger into her, and a shudder rips his muscles tight. God, she’s lovely, so smooth and muscular, more like a fairy girl than like a human. But there’s no dimple there, no soft little ridge, no bump in the delicate skin. She’s not a virgin, and for the first time he wonders if she’s tricking him and why.

But it’s too late. Her powdery scent intoxicates him, and in a few seconds he’s nudged her thighs apart and he’s pushing inside her. He should go slowly—she’s small, just a human girl—but he can’t. She’s so tight around him. So good. So blessedly cool and moist. Delicious flame bursts from his pores, threatening to push him over the edge. Just the feel of this witch could make him come. “God, you feel great.”

She whimpers, tense. “It hurts.”

“It won’t for long.” He bends to kiss her body as he moves inside her, licking her breasts, sucking her tight nipples, and before long she relaxes with a pleasured shudder.

She gasps and rocks under him, pushes him deeper like she knows what she’s doing. “Yes,” she whispers. “Show me. Help us. Promise me.”

He groans and thrusts, unwilling but compelled. Something weird. Something wrong. But still the words slip out on a ragged sigh as her muscles drag pleasure from deep in his balls. “I promise.”

“Promise on your soul.” She moves against him, sultry, her eyes glazed with deep pleasure.
“Yeah. On my soul.” Bewitched. Tricked. But he can’t stop. His cock swells inside her, ready to explode, and he thrusts faster, harder, using her as she uses him until orgasm slashes through him like broken glass, tearing screaming sensation deep into his flesh. Flames scorch over his back, scarlet flashing from his wings like neon against the dirty wall. “Ah. God, you little bitch, you feel good.”

Liquid slides around him inside her, sticky and caustic like over-sugared icing. His breath scorches. His cock still hurts, his rage barely satisfied. Did she come? He didn’t notice. He doesn’t care. She tricked him, for who knows what weird-ass reason. He should get off her, spit on her, and leave her in the dirt. But he can’t. He can’t get up. He can’t move.

She slides beneath him, a satisfied smile shaping her lips. “Now you’re mine. Come tell Jake what you did.”

A flash of flowery compulsion wilts his nerves, and when she nudges him up and bids him follow her, he can’t help but obey.

Notes

Hope you like it.
- Grimm