A Demon's Bargain

As I showered before bed, I retreated to my fantasies. I knew they probably weren’t terribly healthy, but I was most definitely aware that they weren’t real, and I just wasn’t willing to put myself out there to get hurt again. Fantasy love was safe; I could control it.

I imagined that a fine-looking man was washing my hair, a gesture of affection, perhaps laughing as he did it over some joke as he massaged the conditioner into my scalp. He would tease me for insisting on shaving my legs every day, saying that it used too much water and was bad for the environment. He’d probably mock me for my odd habit of brushing my teeth in the shower too.

As I wrapped my smaller towel around my hair, and used my bigger, fluffy towel to dry my body, I thought about what couples did in the evenings. Images, sensations ran through my mind and I took a heady breath. Those were all things of the past and the imagination for me now. Well, aside from my trusty assortment of vibrators and whatnot, and I wasn’t in the mood tonight. Kind of pathetic for a Friday night, but that was me: kind of pathetic.

I walked from my bathroom into my bedroom and stopped dead. There was a mind-blowingly handsome man reclining on my bed, propped up on an elbow, grinning widely at me. What. The. Fuck.

I wasn’t sure if I should scream, attack, flee, plea for my life, or what. Instead, I just stared. He just watched me, gawking at him. The longer I looked, the more I realized the man was not a robber, rapist, or serial killer. Shit had just gotten real.

This guy had claws instead of fingernails, a motherfucking tail that ended in, like, a little arrowhead, bright, blue eyes like a cat, and when he smiled with his mouth open, he had fangs. I had quit smoking 8 years ago, but I felt like I needed a cigarette. “Whoa.”

He sat up, pulling a cigarette case from a jacket he was wearing, and offered me one. “May I join you, (Y/N)?”

I looked blankly at the cigarette. It was red, with a black filter. “I don’t have a lighter.” The man smiled rakishly again, and I could practically feel my knees trying to give out. He made a fist with his right hand, then popped his thumb quickly out, making a crackling noise, and the end of his claw held a small flame. “Damn!”

The man grinned broadly at me, his teeth pointy, as he shook his hand and the flame went out. I decided that this situation was so incredibly fucking uncanny, it did indeed call for a cigarette. “I have a balcony, but I need to put on some pjs. I’ll be out in the hall in a second, Mr. Inexplicable figment of my imagination.”

The man (or whatever) rose, taking a few steps towards me, and I saw he was incredibly tall. He had dark hair and pale skin decorated with a myriad of tattoos. He had very broad shoulders but narrow hips, and pointy boots. All his clothing was as dark as his hair and his, eh, tail.

He gave me a look that made my breath catch. “I’m no figment, (Y/N). I’m perfectly solid, see?” He took my left hand and brought my palm under his shirt, placing it against his abdomen, which was warm and covered with sparse hair. “My name is Andy, and it is a true pleasure to meet you, my delectable temptress.” He took my right hand in his much larger left one and kissed my knuckles gently. “Pray don’t be long.”

And suddenly, Andy was gone.

Notes