In the aftermath of their debaucherous visit to Pandemonium, Balakai reminds Griffin who he belongs to.  Then he visits a friend for lunch and brings home cake.

Word Count: 7399

Content Warnings: Rough sex, dubious consent, pain, fear, dirty talk, threats.

They staggered home sometime in the wee hours of morning, but Balakai remembered little of the journey from Pandora. He'd slept most of it, curled up in the front seat. He vaguely recalled Griffin rousing him, drawing him up the stairs of the townhouse by his leash. They'd not even managed to make it to the shower.

They smelled like it.

Balakai groaned, rolling onto his back and immediately regretting it. He arched to keep broken skin off the sheet, stinging as his movement cracked open half-healed wounds. He whined and managed to roll back to his front but his whole body ached. His head was pounding, his body wrung out like a wet towel, skin itching with the dried remnants of sex and blood and sweat. The room was redolent with the lingering scent of the herbal faey oil that lingered on their skin, and the scent of their activities. He felt aching and empty and god he was starving. 

He propped himself on his elbows.  His wrists were bruised and chafed as were his ankles. Upper arms and thighs deeply bruised. And that was after his demonic healing had however long to work. The way the light slanted in around the curtain made him think it was late afternoon.

With a low snarl, he pushed himself up on shaky legs. He clung to the end of the bed, waiting for his knees to buckle under him. His body still ached with fatigue. The room tipped violently around him but eventually it steadied and somehow he managed to stay upright. He looked at the sleeping witch, burnished gold eyes narrowed. Then a slow smile curled his lips and with a little huff of laughter he reached up to tug the collar from around his neck, tossing it onto the mattress before he staggered to the bathroom.

He curled up on the shower floor under the hottest water he could coax out of it, filling the room with steam and flushing his skin rosy with the heat.

There was a truth of magic that nothing was powerful enough to change; there was always a cost to pay. Now or later, it was paid. And later was now the present and past Griffin had thought it the height of humorous to fuck over future Griffin. Who was now present Griffin and he hurt. Breathing was agony from all of the heavy breathing and his cunt ached from abuse and use. Even his back was a riot of color and damage, his inner thighs showing the signs of what might have been a cane. There were bite marks, not all of which were Balakai's and several very vivid lacerations. He was sure he'd also broken a rib. Or maybe three. It was hard to tell. 

And it was delightful. It was the ache and hurt that he chased and rarely caught. 

Still, there was the price to pay and the gnawing of a very human hunger made him groan a few minutes after the demon got out of bed. He checked his phone.  They'd lost three days to Pandemonium. His hands shook as he put in a delivery order because there was no world in which he was going to be fussed to either leave or cook. He wasn't properly sure he would be much good on his feet, but if Balakai had made it he wasn't going to be made a fool and fail. He gave the demon a good twenty minutes with the water as hot as he wanted before he made his slow way in and turned it less hot, stepping into the spray. 

To all appearances, Balakai had fallen asleep curled in the bottom of the shower. Maybe he had. He certainly didn't raise his head when Griffin came in. Not until he turned the heat down did Balakai growl. It was a chest deep rumble, no playfulness about it. He tilted his head and peered up at the witch, considering. Then he rolled to his knees- which hurt, because his knees and shins were bruised yellow and green, which meant they'd likely been black when they left the club. He'd spent a lot of time on his knees. 

Not that he really regretted it. 

He nudged between Griffin's thighs, ran his tongue over the bruises and welts there, remembering when Griffin's intention to bring a few people he knew in to add to their play had gone a bit awry when they decided that Griffin ought to be part of the fun. Still, Balakai had gotten everything he had desired. He nuzzled up and licked him, fully aware of the abuse his cunt had taken, knowing him likely to be swollen and aching and tender.

The witch hissed and almost shied away, but there wasn't really anywhere for him to go in the small shower. He shivered because it hurt and it was good and god how those two things were always the same. Never one without the other. He fisted the demon's hair. 

"Still hungry?" He asked darkly. It wasn't quite a promise, but it wasn't a refusal either. He was sure that he wouldn't be at his best, but it was hard to imagine saying no, even now. Even after the marathon of hard fucking and abuse they'd both taken, though admittedly the demon much more than him.

"Starving." Balakai’s voice held the low gravel of his growl, when he wasn't pretending to be human. 

"Greedy," and Griffin chuckled, his own voice quite rough.

The demon’s hands were hard on Griffin's thighs, digging into the bruises as he lapped at him lazily, with only the occasional scrape of blunt teeth against his labia. There was a darker threat under the word, more hinted than intended, but there nonetheless in the way the bright gold eyes watched the witch. Then he pushed him back toward the back wall of the shower, and his lips curled in a little flash of teeth.

"Mine." It was low and possessive and more than half a snarl as he pinned Griffin's hips back against the wall, holding him there by demonic strength though there was perhaps a tremble in his body from the fatigue of their play, and he curled his tongue around Griffin's clit, licked and sucked and nibbled.

"Fuck," Griffin gasped and there was no strength in him to fight the advance even had he the desire to do. Which, he wasn't really sure he had. He ached and was wrecked and still he curled into him, moved against the edge of sharp pain and older ache and the desire that kindled almost immediately. He could feel the fingers pressed into the damage of his hips and he made a choked noise as he just leaned against the wall in broken surrender.

"Fuck yes." He was hazy and perhaps a lot less careful than he should have been. He had meant only that he wanted the graze of teeth and the lap of his tongue and all of the pleasure that was never enough between them, but it could have been taken as more. He didn't really hear himself, didn't remark what he'd said, only ran hands into the demon's hair and held on, giving in to him because even with everything they had done over days, he still had more to give. More to take. 

Everything was never enough for Griffin Summerville.

The demon ate him, in the most carnal sense of the word, tasting him deep. Tasting the others who'd taken him. Growled into the brokenness of him and drew back for breath, pulling him sharply down to the shower floor with him. He wasn't gentle as he turned the witch around in the tight confines of the shower and got him underneath him, mounting him like an animal. 

He had given days to Griffin's pleasure, for all that it had been his as well. This was nothing for Griffin. He shoved the witch's head down into the little water collecting in the bottom of the shower and rutted into his well used pussy, tight with swelling and inflammation from overuse. His teeth dug into the witch's shoulder, blunt and digging in hard to add another bruise around the punctures his nails had left in the witch's pale skin. 

Griffin tried to cry out but the breath was driven from him and it was all he could do to choke and sputter and struggle for breath against the driving agony and pleasure and water that made it almost panic-inducing to try and breathe. Drowning was perhaps the only thing he really feared, flashes of that first time, that endless death beside Christian flashing across his memory and he tried to fight, his human instincts stronger now than his own will, but there was not strength enough in him at the best of times to really stop Balakai if he wanted. He'd always known, even if he ignored it, that the power between them was not the same. 

Because he would always be only human. And Balakai was not. 

The demon fucked him brutally until he came with a snarl, the distinct swelling of his knot bumping and pressing against Griffin's entrance but not pushing in this time, not locking them together. The witch was almost sobbing with the pleasure and pain of the brutal fucking and he cried out when the demon came and it was force against the damage inside him. He knew claiming when he saw it, understood just a bit too late what the demon had been on about.

Balakai pulled out and tried to stand, but his knees gave out before he was quite up and he slid back down with a whine. He took another breath and more carefully levered himself to his feet. This time he managed, rinsing off briefly and leaving Griffin the shower to himself. "I hope you ordered food." 

He didn't move from where he'd been left, didn't get in the blonde's way.  

"It'll be on the porch," Griffin croaked, not looking up, all strength gone out of him as he lay in a wreck on the shower floor. Every movement stung his savaged cunt and even if he was a glutton for the punishment of it, he was raw enough that it almost took his breath away. So he lay there until the water started to go cold, let his mind go still as he just tried to breathe over the broken ribs and damage to himself. 

And he smiled a twisted little smile even as he spit out a mouthful of blood. 

It was almost forty-five minutes later that he made his slow way down the stairs, dressed in a dark blue silk robe, his hair pulled back into a tail at his neck. He knew the food was cold by now, but he'd moved as fast as he could.

The stairs had almost defeated Balakai, but moving actually helped his muscles feel marginally better. He didn't bother putting anything on when he opened the door and picked up the food off the porch. He was moderately relieved that Griffin had ordered a lot more than normal. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he was starving. While he always looked slight and hard muscled, every inch of him was even more defined than normal, as if the days in Faerie debauchery had eaten away at any scrap of fat that he'd carried. It was likely why he wasn't more healed already. Simply not enough fuel.

He picked out the first dish from the top of the bag, popping the lid off and by the time Griffin was down from the shower, he'd managed to sate the painful, devouring hunger that had been gnawing at his spine. He felt better, more alert and less tired. He'd left a little bit of each dish for Griffin, which still amounted to a lot of food, though he'd eaten the lion's share of the meal. There was an open beer at the place Griffin normally sat, and two empty ones in front of Balakai. He held a third one in hand, resting against his chest. His heels rested on the table, balancing him in the chair as he tipped it back on the rear two legs.

The blue and green of Griffin's odd eyes surveyed the fact that Balakai had left him anything, let alone a little of everything, and he peaked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, though he said nothing. Just filed it away. He sat by his beer and just grabbed the first container, a rich chicken alfredo, and began to eat with a certain amount of care even though he was starving. Subsisting on faery magic was unwise at the best of times, but his head was absolutely splitting and that was a lot less fun than his punished cunt. He was careful as he sat, leaning just a little to one side so that he was more on his hip than sitting flat, though the inside of his thighs screamed still. 

Griffin drank down the beer and then started on a filet because he knew he needed the iron. He'd lost a fair sum of blood too, and even if it was fun, it cost. When he'd eaten enough that he could think again he pushed the salad away and gave a contented sigh, looking across the table at Balakai with a slightly Mona Lisa not quite smile on his lips.

When Griffin looked up, Balakai slid a little ibuprofen bottle across the table, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He'd watched Griffin eat in utter silence, just sipping his beer, content. 

"If that'll do anything for you. The head's a bitch." His voice was quiet, like he didn't want to talk too loudly. While the food and drink had helped immensely, his head still pounded. And for him, ibuprofen did shit for pain.

His grin grew a little and he took another swig of beer. "You look like someone stuck nails to your chair."

Griffin didn't hesitate to drop five of the pills into his hand and pop them, chasing them with the last of his beer. 

"Impaled on demon dick. Does a number. Smug fuck." But the twist to his lips wasn't bitter in the least. Tired and maybe a little wary, but that was all. The witch was still a little pale and it was clear he'd pushed himself more than was wise, but he didn't make a life of being wise and was accustomed to functioning suboptimally. There were some minor alchemies that he knew, but nothing that was a whole lot better than time, water, and some good old over-the-counter. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he gave a long suffering sigh before he pulled it out, brows knitting as he quickly typed up a reply. "Sinclaire is getting impatient."

Balakai's grin was positively feral and the chair clicked back down onto all four legs. He was halfway out of his chair when Griffin's phone buzzed. He scowled and rolled his eyes, changing direction to instead raid the cabinets. Eventually he found a bag of chocolate candy in the freezer and broke into it, snapping off a piece. He desperately desired the sugar, though the worst of his hunger had been sated and his belly rounded a little with proof.

The witch paused half way to putting the phone back in his pocket before he pulled it back out and checked the moon. "We've got about five days."

"Why five days?" He tossed Griffin one of the fun sized candy bars and went to look over what he hadn't eaten, frowning at the amount left and shooting Griffin a considering look.

The witch missed the catch, but collected the candy from the table and tilted his head a little to watch Balakai, though whatever was going through his head he kept to himself. He gave a little shrug at the demon’s look. He didn't really relish the idea of puking all night and that was what would happen if he wasn't careful. Too much magic, too much rough sex, and too long without taking much care of himself and his body rebelled. He knew the signs. He hid the very slight shaking in his hands by keeping them folded in front of him. 

"New moon. Best for working this kind of magic. It's summer, so it's not as strong as it would be if the night were longer, but enough. Especially if he's been collecting witch born and not just humans." Griffin gave a sigh and did some math in his head. "He has to know that the Sinclaires are aware, and Becket is on alert too. Won't make it easy to find unaligned witches. There aren't a lot of us. But, I might know a few tricks. Gonna need more sleep before I try, though." 

More blood. Magic's favorite cost.

Seemingly mollified, or at least satisfied by what he saw, Balakai put away the leftovers and trashed the empty containers. He moved slowly, but without favoring too much. And the bruises that had still been livid on his skin in the shower were beginning to yellow and fade. 

"Go sleep then. I'm going out. Got a friend in town, gonna catch up." He headed for the stairs to get changed, calling down behind him. "Don't move out of this house without me- or let anyone in. You're like as not to get yourself killed."

Griffin chuckled. "You worried about me?" 

A yawn cut off any more teasing he might have done and he didn't feel like trying the stairs again. Instead, he pushed his chair back with care and crossed over to the sink, grabbing the cup he left upside down beside it and filling it with water, drinking it all down despite the way his stomach rolled. He closed his eyes and swayed a little, but everything settled after a few breaths. Without a lot of grace he crossed slowly to the living room and settled on the couch, flipping on the Travel Channel to lull him to sleep. He reached over and pulled the throw over himself, as comfortable as he really could be, all things considered.

There was no immediate answer, just the sounds of Balakai ascending the stairs and going into the bedroom. He came back down several minutes later, hair combed, in joggers and a cropped t-shirt. He ran his fingers through Griffin's damp hair and fisted his hand in it, pulling his head back. 

"Your death belongs to me and I'm going to be pissed if you forget that again." He let go and patted the top of his head. "So be a good boy."

The witch swatted at the hand a little futilely, no real heat in it, though his eyes narrowed just a hint. 

"Yes daddy," he copied Balakai's tone pretty well and gave him a quirk of his lips. "Grab some whole milk while you're out? And a map." 

He gave another yawn and turned back to the show on the large tv. He didn't ask how long Balakai was going to be out because it didn't matter. He'd be back when he was back. Or not. Griffin knew where they stood for the moment and that was enough.

Balakai gave a little, animal huff that seemed pleased, didn't respond to his request, and ducked out the front door. 

It was after dark, nearly six hours later, when he wandered back with a grocery bag over one arm. He came through the kitchen window again.  He couldn't open Griffin's wards and he had no interest in checking if the witch had modified them to accept him. He set the bag on the table and dug out a little plastic container from inside with the milk, fetching a fork out. He wandered into the living room to check on the witch.

It didn't look as if Griffin had moved at all, the breath of him slow and deep. In sleep, much of the bitter and sharp of him eased. Though he was pale and there were circles under his eyes, there was not the usual tension that so often held him on the edge of a knife. His hair had come free of the tie that had kept it, a messy halo around head and shoulders as he slept. 

If he was aware that he wasn't alone anymore, there was no sign of it.

After studying him for a long moment, Balakai sank down to the floor in front of the couch. He picked up the remote and flipped channels until he found reruns of Star Trek. The fork and container with its slice of devil's food cake inside went on the side table. It would keep for a while.

It was several more hours before Griffin woke with a start, almost as if he were gasping for breath and for a moment there was an expression of abject desolation on his face. Then he took a breath and settled back down. He threw an arm over his eyes and the hint of sulfur in the air told him that Balakai was back. He reached out with his other hand and his fingers just brushed the demon’s shoulder and settled there.

Balakai tilted his head back to look at Griffin's face, studying him as he woke. Cocked his head to one side and rubbed his cheek against the hand that settled on his shoulder. Rather than comment on the look that had flashed across his face, he just gestured to the side table with the remote.

"Brought you cake. Milk's in the kitchen. Map too."

It took ten whole minutes for Griffin to pull himself together, the hangover of magic rolling through his skull as it had poisoned his dreams. He focused on breathing and on the ache of his body and the presence of the hellhound who had returned. When he was reasonably sure that his voice would be steady, he took a breath and nodded. "Thank you." 

After another minute, he moved his arm and sat up gingerly, shifting several times before he found a position that hurt the least. He reached over for the little to-go container and there was a curious expression on his face, something that chased away the haunted and replaced it with something that was on the soft side of wry. He didn't say anything more until he'd finished the cake, which took a little while because he ate slowly. Once he was done, he gave a contented little sigh and set the empty container back on the side table. 

"Okay. Time to pay the piper." He moved slowly to rise.

The demon was in no hurry, returning to watching the show with rapt attention. His lips moved slightly along with the words, as if he'd seen the episode enough that he knew it by heart. Even so, when Griffin started to rise Balakai looked up at him and turned off the tv. 

"What's that mean? Gonna go fuck yourself up some more?" He stood, putting a hand possessively at the small of Griffin's back. Not pushing him because it was pretty clear that it wouldn't take much to send the witch off balance. It would have been staggeringly easy to make him eat carpet but though the thought twisted Balakai's lips in an amused grin, he managed to contain himself. "I'm assuming you're finally going to actually get some work done?"

"Both," Griffin replied with a little wink and stretched a bit, though gingerly because eight hours of sleep and some pain killers would not fix him. He would need time for that, and they were now on a clock. He wasn't unhappy they'd lost a few days at Pandemonium. Even when working, even with the threat of Julian in the world, he always served himself first. It was a little more dangerous to piss off the Sinclaires because they really could make good on their threat to keep him out of work for a while, but even there he felt like he knew how far he could push.

Balakai snorted softly and rolled his eyes. Figured that the witch would be looking to get himself into more trouble. He liked the way the witch leaned into his hand and in almost unconscious response he crowded close to him, hand curling around his hip and pulling him into the demon's side.

Griffin ignored the little voice that warned him that such comfort was forbidden to him. He shoved it to the side and worked to focus on what he needed to do, grabbing the map off the table on his way up the stairs. 

They passed the master bedroom and headed to one of the spares that he had converted into a work space. Balakai had poked his nose into it once while the witch was dead and then decided it wasn't worth risking his hide over. There were strings of plants and drying herbs along the walls and from the ceiling, an altar along one wall with a number of stones, bottles, and bowls on it. There were books on a bookshelf  and in the center of the room, a large, black velvet square set with silver paint that was an elaborate spell circle inset with runes and script from at least four languages. 

"I would recommend not touching the script once I start. I'm not sure if it'll hurt you." 

Balakai let Griffin go.  Even without his warning, the demon wouldn't have gone much into the room. Neither did he want to leave. Instead, he squatted down just inside the door, one hand brace on the floor in front of him to help him balance. And there he waited. "I know better than to fuck with your shit." 

The witch moved into the room and broke off pieces of various plants, pinches of materials from several bowls, and added a few drops of honey to a large shell. Then he took a small silver blade and drew it along his arm, setting a ribbon of blood flowing into the mixture which he stirred with a bone like stick. All the while he spoke in what could almost be interpreted as a song, but the language of it was hard to follow, as if it shifted.

"Smarter than you look then," Griffin said with a little grin as he finished mixing the concoction until it was a fluid paste. There was more blood in it than anything else, but it smelled heavily of the florals and minerals that he'd added. He collected four candles from a drawer, white votives, and spread the map out on the circle. He shed the robe, leaving him naked. The thunderstorm of bruises, lacerations, claw marks, bites, and other damage painfully visible on the pale and lean of him.

He sat cross-legged in front of the map and began to paint the mix onto his skin, swirling glyphs and patterns on his chest, shoulders, and arms. He gave a full body shiver when the work was complete and he set the shell and brush aside, focusing. The candles set at the cardinal directions lit with a wave of his hand, simple enough magic even though it wasn't his primary element. Fire had an affinity for those who consumed and renewed. It answered him much more readily than earth or water. Water especially was unfond of him, as if it knew his fear and his hatred and felt in turn. Only when paired with the winds of storms did it answer without taking a high toll on him. 

Griffin took a deep breath and held his arm out over the map, letting drops of blood fall onto the paper surface. At first little happened, the smell of the herbs and candles heavy in the air. Slowly, though, the blood began to move, leaving no trail behind. A few spots moved and then settled, singular people just living their lives, possibly even unaware of the witch blood of them. Others, however, bunched together and it was these to which he paid particular attention. There were three places where five or more of the drops settled and stopped moving.

"Looks like we have three places to check. It's possible that there's a new coven forming and that might account for a few. Happens when people meet or move into the area. They're un-oathed, which is why I can find them, but probably headed that way. Most covens aren't that big. I'm guessing that at least one of these other groupings is Julian's work. He'll need to keep them alive until he's ready to work the spell." His voice was a little reedy, as if it was hard to pull it from himself to explain while he was focused on his casting. Queer eyes bore into the map and the blood burned, leaving permanent marks on the surface to remark where they'd been.

The witch let go of his magic with a gentle sigh and the heaviness of an oncoming storm faded from the air. 

"Not flashy magic, but useful," Griffin commented. He didn't move yet, letting the lightning-like feeling ebb. His head felt a little light, but he was otherwise untroubled.  Despite the hell that Faerie had put his body through, the sex and debauchery had also fed into magic that had been left untouched to run like lightning under his skin.  Exercising some of it helped more than he’d expected.

The magic made the fine hairs on Balakai’s arms and the back of his neck stand on end in a creeping, prickly sensation. As it rose in the room he unconsciously leaned back a little, pressing his back into the wall, nevermind the faint twinge and smart from still healing damage. But he didn't leave. His attention was more on Griffin himself than the magic he was conjuring. The truth was, Balakai wasn't here for Griffin's work. He was helping because it was something he wanted to do, and he wanted to see the result. And if he wanted to be around, he understood to some degree that making himself useful would make life easier.

While he could physically overpower Griffin, there were plenty of ways the witch could make his life miserable if he really didn't want him around. Balakai wanted to be around. Wanted Griffin to want him around, because that was much more fun. Besides, he'd laid claim. It would be much more troublesome to enforce that claim if Griffin didn't to some degree humor him. Not that he wouldn't. It just sounded like more work than he wanted to do.

When the witch began to surface from the spell and the pressure of the magic in the air broke, Balakai stood and stretched. He padded a little closer, circling around behind Griffin and resting his hands lightly on the witch's shoulders as he peered at the map.

"If this is accurate, one of those is probably Adelia. I don't know if she protects herself from this kind of magic but she doesn't have a coven. None of them will take her, what with Tom and all." He shrugged a shoulder. "She's like eighty. I don't think Julian will fuck with her. I can call her and ask where she is though, that would save us some time." 

Perhaps some people would find it strange that Balakai had kept up with the witch who had opened the portal through which he'd stepped. Adelia had been young, ambitious, and powerful. Now she was old, wily, and powerful. And perhaps the most practiced demon summoner he knew of, not that he spent a lot of time looking up summoners. She liked having handsome demons waiting on her hand and foot, and Tom had been her pet and consort for years now. He seemed just besotted, which tickled Balakai to no end.

Griffin looked up over his shoulder, not quite wincing at the pressure of Balakai's hands where he was still healing from the nails he'd dug into him. He didn't heal any faster than a normal person unless he was willing to pay for some really expensive alchemy and even that only took the edge off at best. He'd learned to simply be in the moment and if it hurt, well, that was life. Quite the metaphor for pretty much everything. Now he grinned a little as he looked up at the demon. "And here I thought I was the only special snowflake witch you stalked. I'm hurt."

There was no trace of hurt in his voice. 

He turned back to the map, "I've heard of her, never met her, though. Maybe attended a function together because Boston's not that big and we outcasts do pop up from time to time." He pawed at his discarder robe and fished out his phone, handing it to the demon. "It'll help to know where she is, so we can narrow things down.”

Balakai made a little tch of sound and let go of Griffin, pulling out his own phone. "She keeps tabs on me, not the other way around. Usually. But I picked up a bauble in Prague for her last time you were there, so it worked out." 

He hummed softly to himself as he tapped out a message. He got a reply almost immediately and snorted.

"She says that she's too old and too good to be picked up on a scry, even by Griffin Summerville. And she's leaving town tomorrow anyway, they're apparently spending a week on a yacht in the gulf." He shook his head, tucked his phone away, and flashed Griffin a sharp and feral grin. 

"I mean, it wasn't a powerful scry. I'd need a lot more prep for that. Now I kinda wanna try and find her just because. To prove that I can." He shook his head. It was a bad habit. "Seems like maybe not worth it to go after a saucy old hag, though, since it's only to appease my ego."

Griffin gave a sigh and motioned to the map. “This is where they are now and I know that will change. This group is seven, so they're probably a small coven. And here are a pair, so probably family. One of these is Julian himself. He'll need five for his ritual, and he seems intent that I be number five, so this group of three and this group of four are the most likely targets. He'll be keeping them alive until he needs to use them. I could keep the spell open and watch, but that takes a whole lot of power and I don't like to be wasteful. I'd rather go bust in windows." 

He smiled. "Sound up your alley?"

"Right.  I’m always up for a little B and E. I'd rather pick locks than break windows. Broken glass is kind of a mood killer. Wasteful, you know?" He stuck out his tongue, purposefully parroting Griffin's distaste back at him. He offered the witch a hand to help him up. "You're the native- are either of those groups in residential areas? If they are, that's likely to be home. If not, then we should check wherever they are first because they're probably going to move."

The witch took the offered hand and chuckled.  He scooped up his robe as Balakai pulled him to his feet. 

"Both of 'em are. This one though," and he picked up the map and pointed, "Is in the Greek. If the missing girl from before was in a sorority, you might be right in that Julien's using the house while most of them are gone for the summer. Or, he just murdered them and is staying there anyway."  He studied the map again, thoughtful. "I'm going to need some things if we are going to go snooping. Julian has to know I'm hunting. He seems to have done this to get me here. Went to a lot of trouble. So, we're going to make sure there are no surprises because I've fucked up twice because I let myself be compromised and we're not doing that again. No third time's a charm for this witch."

"I can introduce you some time, if you like.  To Adelia." Balakai took the map, studying it for a moment. He traced the tip of a nail down some roads, alleys and cross streets. Satisfied he folded it small and shoved it down into a back pocket. "Are we going tonight? I'm gonna change if we are. These are not breaking and entering shoes." He was pointedly barefoot.

There was a subtle thread of approval in his voice though. Griffin preparing so he didn't get fucked over again was a good thing. He liked that the witch was watching out for himself because regardless of Griffin's actual motivation, by wanting to make sure Julian didn't make him a fool again he was inadvertently protecting Balakai's claim.

Griffin didn't fight the demon, not actually opposed to the way he just kind of slid into his life. He registered the approval in his voice and understood the implication of ownership that he'd put forward more than once. With teeth and claws and the bright splash of his blood. Like he'd owned him earlier in the shower and Griffin had been made plenty aware of how powerless he really was sometimes. It sent a little chill down his spine that he didn't hate. 

He had no illusions. Life and death had dispelled them long ago. So long as Balakai did not keep from what he wanted, he was fine with him around. It was that or go through the hassle of finding the right spells and wards to keep him out and that just sounded like a pain in the ass. He'd much rather have him suck his dick and bring him a beer. He was funny, almost always down to get up to trouble, and didn't seem to be bothered by Griffin's ups and downs. He was well enough aware of them from all of his years of... research.

"Depends on how tired you are. There are some things at the house I don't want Millie touching, so I have to get them myself. Besides, you've been dying to see where I live, I'm sure. We have the day to prepare and I can see if Ally is done with a little project I sent her way. Might come in handy." He ran a hand along the front of the demon's pants. "Besides, might be nice to fuck you in my own bed. How novel." 

Balakai perked up. He caught Griffin's hand before he pulled away, pulled him back close and nipped playfully at his throat. A little, contented growl rumbled in his chest. 

"Not that tired." He could have slept, if they weren't getting up to anything else. He wasn't without a certain level of bone deep fatigue that he could feel now that the hunger was mostly sated. He'd be hungry again in just a couple of hours too, he could tell. But if they were getting up to things, he could put off sleep for hours.

He slapped Griffin's ass and gave him a nudge to send him on ahead, trailing behind him to the master bedroom, watching him. Studying the shape of him, the livid map of bruises and wounds still painted on his skin. It made his mouth water.

"Sounds like a plan. Does this mean we get to see how well you drive while I fingerfuck you?" There was an air of anticipation around the demon, clearly quite pleased with the way the evening was going. He shimmied out of the joggers- showing he'd had nothing beneath them- and instead found his skinny, awning striped pants to wiggle into. It was something of a process, even with the zippers to loosen the ankles. He flopped back on the bed as he shimmied the tight denim up his legs.

Griffin paused to watch him for a moment, an eyebrow raised and he chuckled in actual amusement. 

"You are ridiculous." He kept talking as he vanished into the walk in closet to get dressed. "And we remember that you fucked me raw earlier, right? No nails. I don't want to flip my car in the tunnel. Salem's not far, but it takes a little bit to get there from here. Not so bad since it's the middle of the night. And I need to make a stop before we get there." 

"Coulda stuck a couple ice cubes up there if you thought it would help." Balakai laughed, hitching the pants up over his narrow hips and situating himself before he zipped them. Then he rolled back up to sitting and reached down to zip the ankles closed. He found the over sized bomber jacket and shrugged into it over the cropped t-shirt, digging a studded belt out from somewhere to loop around his hips without use of the belt loops.

A few minutes later Griffin left the closet looking somewhat put together with a white shirt, black tie, charcoal vest, and black slacks. His Italian suede shoes were blue and he wore mother of pearl cufflinks that matched the buckle to his belt. When he saw the pointedly appraising look on Balakai's face he grinned.

"Millie will fuss if I don't look like I've been taking care. She can't help but worry and I won't let her off the property." He sounded protective instead of possessive and he regarded Balakai for a long moment before the casual of him sharpened. "And if you make her feel bad about her scar, I will..." 

His breath caught because he remembered that he had promised not to threaten. "Don't. Please." 

The last word was ripped from him and he turned away to give the room a final once over to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He slid his black leather messenger bag over a shoulder, wincing a little and settling a hand on a low rib. He wasn't doing a very good job of not straining it.

"You clean up neat." He cocked his head a little to the side as he began to talk about Millie again, and Balakai couldn't for the life of him recall if they'd talked about her before. Maybe? But she hadn't made much of an impression in his memory. He snorted, a little dog-like sound, and stamped into his unlaced combat boots. Padding over to the witch's side, he caught him by the hips and ground against him a little.

"I'll be nice to your... familiar?" he tried the word out curiously. "But I'll take it out of your hide if she pisses me off. Deal?"

He slid a hand up the back of the demon's neck and up the back of his head until he could fist a handful of hair, then pulled him in for an ungentle kiss. 

"Would it matter if I said no?" His expression was sharp with their faces so close and it was very clear that he knew the answer to that. Not that it stopped him. Few things ever did. Griffin released him and stepped back, catching his hand as he turned to leave. 

They didn't need to pack much because it was only going to be for the day and most of what he needed he'd have at home anyway. He never bothered to worry about what Balakai needed because he seemed comfortable enough just pillaging Griffin's things when he needed them. He tossed his bag into the back seat of the sports car and checked to make sure there was nothing magical tagged to the bright red car. He never took for granted that there were charms and hexes that could track and he had no intention of letting anything he didn't want into his sanctum. It took a moment of focus, but there was nothing that seemed to have disturbed the wards he kept on the car. Just like he had on the townhouse in which he was staying. He'd even taken the time to go back and lock all of the windows that Balakai had left open.

Dawn was still a few hours off when they started through the city and headed out to Salem. Home sweet home.