Griffin introduces Balakai to his familiar and it goes about as expected.

Word Count: 6215

Content Warnings: Dubious consent, sexual violence, D/s dynamics, Honorific use - Master, Honorific use - Sir, food control.

Despite his big talk in the townhouse, Balakai didn't actually bother with harassing Griffin in the car.  Instead he curled up in the bucket seat with his head propped against the door and promptly fell asleep.  He was a quiet sleeper, even as he often was in bed.  Only in the deepest sleep did he occasionally make soft noises or twitch as if in dreaming.  He looked terribly small and fragile like that in sleep, huddled in the oversize bomber jacket.  

Griffin turned music on quietly, more to obscure the road noise and allow Balakai to sleep than because he needed it.  He liked quiet.  Music at his fingertips still felt novel even though it had been around for a very long time.  He let his mind wander and enjoyed the drive along the coast.  Night was still thick around them and the rest of the world rested except for a few of the usual long haul truckers and strange folk out at this time of night.  The stars were vividly painted against the darkness of the coastal sky and for once, Griffin didn't fight the peacefulness of it.  He ached mostly pleasantly for all of his protests and there was something almost sweet about the demon curled up like that. 

He stopped briefly at a little station to fill up on fuel and ran in to collect a bouquet of flowers from a bucket just inside the door.  He set that on the back seat and they were back on their way again.  

Balakai stirred a little when they stopped at the gas station, lifting his head just enough to watch Griffin through the window with sleepy, half-closed eyes until the witch returned to the car. As soon as they began to drive again, he dozed off.

It was always somewhat strange to come home.  He'd lived here almost all his life.  His memories of Birmingham, where he’d been born, were faded and edged in gray, like those of fathers lost long ago and brothers and mother killed.  The road took them right by the lake in which he and Christian had drowned.  It made the flesh on his arms rise and opened up the dull ache in his chest, those memories always sharp and close to the surface.  He'd hoped that time would ease them, fade the color of them as it had everything else.  

It never did.

Like true death, that mercy was denied him.  In the bloodshed and darkness that had followed, he had earned everything he was.  He'd known what he was doing, what the cost would be.  He had not been some ignorant innocent, not later.  He'd chosen.  

The lake passed into the distance and he hit a button on the dash to open a heavy, motorized gate.  It was a dramatic affair, black and spiraling, with two huge stone pillars topped with gargoyles on either side.  There were wards twisted into the metal, and protections that he'd spent centuries reinforcing.  If there was one place in the whole world that he was safe, this was it.  It was rare for him to bring people here.  Millie was different.  So were Helen and her little family.  Bringing Balakai here made him tense and uneasy.

The house was a two story colonial, much like one would have seen as some governor's abode in the early seventeen hundreds here in New England.  Ionic pillars lined the batten door and a score of windows faced forward from the white wood exterior with black shutters.  There was a candle lit in every white curtained window and the landscaping seemed barely maintained, wild just kept in check.  The paved drive led through thick woods before the house came into view.  It felt much like stepping back in time.

"Welcome home," he said quietly, hands on the wheel as he pulled up in front of the house.

Balakai stirred at the sound of Griffin’s voice and yawned.  Scrubbed his hands over his face and wrinkled his nose at the perfume of flowers that filled the car.  He sneezed a little, then leaned forward onto the dashboard to peer up at the house.

"Nice place."  He popped the door open as the car came to a halt.  He stood and stretched, working out the stiffness of being curled up in a somewhat awkward position for his little nap.  He felt good despite some of the lingering aches.  And the hunger.  He glanced back at Griffin.  "I don't suppose your fridge is going to be stocked?  I'm starving."

"I texted Millie earlier so she'll have made sure all of that was taken care of."  He hardly got the words out of his mouth when there was the sound of a curious meow and then the front door flew open followed by a streak of human who threw herself into his arms with a squeal.  Long, curling black hair fell almost to the small of her back, but she was utterly naked and didn't seem at all troubled by the fact.

"Master!"  She nuzzled under his chin like the pleased cat she was and then she drew back just a little and wrinkled her nose.  "Ew.  You smell like dog."

She bumped her nose to his.  Old burn scars covered almost the entire right side of her face to an ear that wasn't shaped correctly anymore, down her neck and shoulder, and half way down her arm.  

Balakai tilted his head a little as the shrieking woman threw herself into Griffin's arms.  He leaned against the car to watch them, chin propped on his folded arms and a faint smug smile lingering on his lips.  Because Griffin was so goddamn human, even if he didn't like to show it.  Moments like this also added to the incomplete puzzle that was Griffin in his head.  All the pieces he'd collected over time to form part of the picture, but not the whole. 

It made him want to fuck him just thinking about it.

Griffin smiled indulgently and moved her back a little more so that he could slip her grasp and grab the flowers from the back.  "As promised."  

She squealed again and accepted them with a beaming smile, shoving her nose into the wild and colorful arrangement.  "I'd have done better, but it's the middle of the night."

"Almost dawn."  She was about to say something when she went very still, as if she only just then noticed Balakai.  Her eyes, which were the opposite of Griffin's in blue and green, narrowed.  

"What... is that?"  She sniffed the air.  "Smells... complicated."  

When the familiar's attention turned to him, Balakai just shrugged a shoulder and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket.  

"Nah, I'm just a dog."  He flashed her a grin.  "You're cute- it's a shame Griffin doesn't care for pussy if it isn't his own."  

He chuckled and trotted up the stairs to the front door, nose wrinkling a little as he stuck his head inside the open entryway and sniffed.

Millie stared after the demon without a word and then turned back to Griffin.  "You brought someone... here?"  There was a note of incomprehension in her high and sing-songy voice.  She blinked her large eyes and studied him a little more intently.  

"You don't bring people home, Master."

"I brought you home, didn't I?"  He countered as he leaned back into the car to collect his bag.

She frowned.  "Are you keeping him?"  There was a hint of horror in her voice.  "He smells like... like... sex, dog and..." she furrowed her brow and then her eyes went wide.  "Demon."

"I don't think one keeps Balakai.  I think he decides he wants to be around.  And for the time being, this is where he wants to be and I'm not opposed."  He winced again when he moved wrong and his broken rib twinged.  He gave her a raised eyebrow that seemed to kill any more of her protests.  "I'm fine, Millie."

"No you're not," she argued a little petulantly as she slid a hand around his arm.  "But, you're not alone and that's kinda nice."  

She put her hand on his arm, just a few inches shorter than he, and bumped her hip affectionately against his..  "Welcome home, even if it isn't for long."

He gave her an almost gentle smile and then reclaimed his arm to slide it around Balakai's hips and push the door the rest of the way open.  

It smelled... well, like Balakai expected.  It smelled the way Griffin smelled when he didn't smell like sex and blood.  Old things, herbs, metal, earth.  He huffed a long breath, eyes half-lidded.  But Griffin's arm around his waist called his attention and he settled against the witch's side.  

"Make yourself at home, just don't eat anything not in the kitchen."  He led him in and a part of him settled.  This was where, if he had any at all, his soul rested.  It was the one place on earth that he was home.  

"You're a witch, Griffin.  I'm not going to eat anything outside the kitchen besides you because it'll probably be poisonous."  There was a beat of silence and he leaned a little to eye Millie.  "Well, maybe one other thing."  

Griffin defied absolutely no stereotypes with his home.  It looked as if 1690 had collided with modern witchcore, with herbs hanging, shelves of clear jars of oddities, books, and bits of magical implements.  Crystals, branches, bones, and trinkets lined shelves and tables.  It was clean, a warm kind of herbal scent in the air.  Candles gave the place a soft light in the darkness.  Even the kitchen, which was large, was all oak beamed ceilings and white washed walls. Modern appliances somehow fit in beside the colonial hearth and huge caldron.  There was a huge rough table with fine French porcelain and fresh bread was cooling on the butcher block counter.  

"Millie, make sure Balakai gets a cold beer and something to eat.  I'm gonna go check in with mom and be right back."  He didn't look at the demon, but trailed his hand lightly along his back as he left through a back door from the kitchen after setting his bag on a chair.

Balakai explored the kitchen curiously, checking the fridge and getting himself a beer rather than waiting for Millie to get him one. Then his nose led him to the bread and he hesitated before touching it. He glanced up at her.  

"Is it still cooling?"  He was utterly unintimidated by the fact that she was still taller than him, or that she was close with Griffin. Griffin was his. She was Griffin's. Simple as that.

The familiar watched the demon move, noticed Griffin's body language and tilted her head with an expression something like bewilderment, finally blinking and coming back to herself when Balakai spoke. She smiled brightly and followed along into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter, swinging her feet as she watched him. "It should be plenty cool, but just warm enough to melt the butter. Master likes it that way best."  

There was a black collar around her neck with a round name tag on it. No bell. Her eyes never looked properly human, her pupils cat-slit even now.   

"You smell almost familiar.  Have... we met before?" Her chirpy voice was bright. She regarded him very directly, clearly curious.

Balakai nosed around until he found a knife rather than waiting on her.  Besides, he liked to nose about.  He cut a chunk off the end of one loaf and hitched himself up onto the counter, kicking off his boots and sitting cross legged. He picked the soft, warm bread out of the center of the crust. He filed that knowledge away, and some part of him was satisfied that he'd taken the first piece before Griffin. It was silly and petty and he didn't care one jot.

His brow furrowed a little at Millie and he took a few short, deep breaths to try and find familiarity in her scent. Besides the fact that he'd smelled her lingering on Griffin before, he couldn't have said. He shrugged. "I don't think so. I've been stalking Griffin for a couple years though so maybe you smelled me on him."

Millie blinked.  

"S-stalked?" She hopped down off the counter and went rooting about in a cupboard for a vase. She filled it with water and then proceeded to arrange the bouquet Griffin had brought for her. "Like... have been watching him? Why?"  

She fidgeted as she filled the vase and Balakai could practically imagine her tail twitching in agitation at the idea. It was cute that Griffin had someone to worry over him when he was out in the world.  

"Why not?" Balakai shrugged a shoulder. He had never really questioned his interest in Griffin. Immortals needed hobbies. His happened to be Griffin the last few years. That it was perhaps an obsessive interest didn't escape his notice but it also didn't bother him. Trying to analyze his motives just didn't seem like a particularly good use of brain power. He watched her arrange the flowers as he nibbled the bread, starting on the crust only once he'd hollowed out the inside.

When the flowers were arranged to her liking, she set them in the center of the large table.  

"Has he eaten recently?" She asked, assuming that the demon would know. She could tell from how Griffin smelled that they'd been together at least recently and for a while with the way the hint of sulfur permeated everything. She was a little careful about what she said because she didn't know this person and less about how much her Master might or might not trust him. As he trusted almost no one, she didn't make any assumptions.  

It seemed a safe bet that he hadn't been taking very good care of himself because he never did. She crossed over to the gourmet refrigerator and fetched a basket of brown eggs, some spinach, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and what looked like cream from a glass bottle. All of the produce appeared farm fresh and the eggs were smaller than the ones from the supermarket.  

"Do you like omelets?" she asked, keeping the topic safe. Until she knew Griffin's will, she didn't want to get into trouble by saying anything she shouldn't.

"Big meal about... ten hours ago? Then he crashed. Piece of cake when he woke up but then he spellcast and we packed up and came here, so he's due for something more substantial.  Three days in Faerie didn't do him any favors." A tiny frown line creased his brow as he thought about it, then he shrugged a little. "And he's got a broken rib, though he isn't acting like it. Felt it earlier. Omelet sounds great, I'm not picky."  

He glanced towards the door that Griffin had gone through.

The cat took in his explanation and paused to pull some herbs from where they were growing in the window, a few kinds of flowers, something that looked like basil but might not have been. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a few small jars and added a drop of this and that, motioning with her hands over the food as she did. Her back was to the demon so he couldn't see the little frown that pulled at her generous lips. This would help speed his healing a little, but there wasn't a lot to be done about it and she knew that Griffin was a lot more compromised than he would be willing to let anyone else know. The fact that he'd gone right out to the cemetery spoke loudly of that.  

"What's your story?" She asked lightly as she cut up a few strips of thick, smoked bacon and crisped it in a pan, then added it to the mix. The veggies she lightly sautéed and only just wilted the spinach. A few generous pinches of salt and some fresh ground pepper to finish and she set Balakai's in front of him before she started on Griffin's. She guessed about when he might be in and tried to have his done right on time so it would be perfect. Just like she cut a few thick pieces from the bread loaf and popped them in the toaster.

He stayed at his perch on the counter, accepting the plate from her when it was offered. He spent more time paying attention to the door Griffin had gone through than the familiar herself, though the conversation kept him interested. Kept him from being utterly bored and wandering after Griffin to see what he was getting up to. Contrary to popular belief, he was capable of entertaining himself. He just had no reason to when Griffin was plenty entertaining.

"Hmm? No story. Just a small town demon living in a lonely world." He made quick work of the food, snagging another piece of bread to mop up anything he'd missed once he'd cleared his plate while she was still buttering Griffin's toast.

Millie thought about it for a moment, realizing how detailed the information Balakai had given her was. Her mismatched gaze flickered over to him and she really looked for a long moment, studying him properly. The slight of him that was hidden under the huge bomber jacket, but expressed in the sharp of his facial features. He'd given a very detailed account of Griffin's eating and she imagined that the observations went a lot deeper than that. 

"How many times did he die?" She asked with a sigh she could not keep to herself, voice a little sad. She'd been with Griffin a long time. She knew the drill. She also knew what his kindness looked like, rare as it was, and that somewhere in there, she believed he was still at least a little bit human. She'd been a familiar to another witch before him. She knew what truly evil people could be like.  

"None of your concern," came Griffin's voice as he returned, hands dirty and a smudge of dirt on one cheek. He crossed over to wash his hands, paying particular attention to his nails and there was another long cut across the underside of his arm, not too deep though and it had already stopped bleeding. He dried his hands and rooted around in a cupboard for a woefully insufficient Band-Aid to put on it, then grabbed his plate as the familiar set his last piece of toast on it. He took the glass of milk she handed him and sat down on a stool next to where Balakai perched on the counter.

The witch was quiet and focused, though he only made it about half way through the omelet before he slowed down and mostly just picked at it.  

"Master?" The cat questioned, fidgeting with her fingers behind the counter as she watched him. "Is it unsatisfactory?"

"It's fine, Millie. Thank you." His voice was distracted, attention turned inward. He paused after a minute and looked up. "What did you put in this?"

"Just... some things... to help you heal." She looked not exactly frightened, but worried.  

Griffin was still a moment, then shrugged, taking another bite without remark. His free hand rested on Balakai's knee.

Balakai snorted, and overrode Griffin's short dismissal. "Not at all in Faery. Couple times before that." He watched Griffin eat, shifting a little irritably when he slowed down not even halfway through. But he let the two of them fuss at each other for a moment. He slid off the counter to the stool next to Griffin and snuggled up against the witch's side, pulling the hand from his knee up to his inner thigh.  

"Don't encourage her fretting. Millie is under the impression I require parenting."  Though his words were sharp, his tone wasn't. Really, he just sounded tired. His expression softened a little when Balakai snuggled into him and he was happy to slide his hand up and down his inner thigh more than a little suggestively. It gave him something else about which to think and for that he was a certain amount grateful.  

"Drink your milk." The demon purred, settled comfortably against the taller man's side, even if his perch was somewhat precarious.

"Yes, daddy," he snorted, bringing the glass to his lips and managing about half of it before his stomach gave a little roll. Too much magic recently. Faery always fucked with him and he needed to get his shit together quickly if he was going to catch Julian. It would have been easy enough to just magically nuke him, but the Sinclaires had been very specific. No collateral. Since he liked getting paid, he'd do his best.

"See, you do require parenting, actually." Balakai replied without heat, running his hand along Griffin's own thigh. He didn't push him any further. This was a game, even if Griffin didn't quite know he was playing. Seeing how far he could push the witch. How much he could ask, how much he could demand. It was delightful, and the more Griffin caved the more interested he became to see just how far he could push.  

He tilted his head up and kissed the taller man's jaw, reaching up a hand to run his fingers through his auburn hair, tugging it free of the holder. "Good boy."

When had he started taking the easy path, Griffin wondered as he set down his glass and leaned into the kiss with a wry smile. A few months ago, he would have just overturned the cup in purposeful defiance. Just to prove that he did nothing but for his own pleasure. Now, it just wasn't worth fighting over. Balakai had taken at least a little care of him. If only because it kept Griffin at his disposal. He knew damned well that it wasn't directly out of concern for himself, but because the demon wanted to make sure he could continue to have access to that which entertained him. If it had the illusion of care, well... maybe he could just let it for a little while and not fuss too much. It would only hurt himself and that would happen regardless, so what did it really matter?

The chestnut waves fell around his shoulders and he raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest. "You nap enough that you're not tired? Or ready for bed?"

The demon chuckled and slid away from Griffin, picking up his own plate and then pausing by Griffin's to make sure he was done before he took both plates and glass to the sink. Then he came back and crawled into his lap, sliding his arms around the witch's neck and running his fingers through his hair. "Not tired at all- could happily be ready for bed but not if you think we're going to sleep."

Griffin still looked tired. The circles under his eyes from the days at Pandemonium had not faded and a few good meals did not replace all that he had sacrificed both to magic and in the worship of the physical self. He was self destructive by nature, but not usually sloppy. So, he let the demon into his lap and gave him a kind of lopsided smile.  

"You remember the shower? Because I remember the shower and how you wrecked me. Not that I'm usually opposed, I just refuse to be substandard in bed and I am definitely not at my best."

"I am!" Millie chimed in with a bright smile. It faded though, when Griffin looked over at her. "If I have Master's permission, that is."

He kissed along Balakai's chin and jaw, down his neck and bit a little at his shoulder. "Permission granted." His voice was low and almost sultry, only for Balakai. "No bringing her into my bed. She's not permitted in my bedroom."

Griffin knew plenty of witches who got close with their familiars. He didn't. Not only because she wasn't his type, but because he needed distance from Millie in some ways, so that he could trust her with other things. More than professional, but not lovers. Not ever. He knew how she'd been treated before and while he cared about little, he would not be what had done her so much harm. She was simple, sweet, and giving. Millie was an excellent familiar and that was all he needed of her.  

"Though, I could suck you off right here to tide you over if that doesn't suit, but I plan on going to sleep in a little bit. Whatever else you do is up to you." And he moved his hands from where they had been resting easily on his hips to slide up the demon's back under his jacket.

"Fiiiiiine." It was almost a whine, but didn't have any sharpness to it. Balakai nuzzled close, licked along the column of his throat, tugged a little at the top buttons of his shirt. Just enough that he could nudge it open and run his lips over the edge of the scars he'd left when he ripped him asunder. He didn't, at first, react to Millie's offer, apparently too absorbed in Griffin. But then he pulled back and stretched, leaning into Griffin's hands. He flashed Millie a grin.

"I think we pets can entertain ourselves, right kitten?" He slid off of Griffin's lap, though a hand lingered on him for a long moment. "Go get some sleep, no promises I won't fuck you awake. Would you rather take it in the ass since your cunt's sore?"

"So considerate, thinking of my poor, ruined snatch." Griffin laughed and the tension that had crept up in him seemed to ease back a little. There was still something dark in his eyes and a hint of storm clouds in the sharp of him, but it eased back a little. He dragged his hands almost unwillingly from Balakai's skin. "I can think of a lot worse ways to wake up."  

It wasn't as if Balakai needed his permission. He'd do what he wanted regardless. But, he didn't fail to notice what appeared like consideration and that was as close to sweet as the demon got.  

If Griffin pondered it just a little, he did a lot of things. Fussed over his food, changed the bedding, didn't bring people home when Griffin was there and alive, and usually respected his work. It was a lot more than most humans gave, and he softened just a little as the demon slid from his lap. He hated admitting to himself that he rather liked the weight and warmth of him there. The last few months had been fun. Having someone else to delight in his wickedness and debauchery was a good time and it had been a long while since the endless of his usual solitude had been broken by anything lasting in any way.  

Since Julian.  

Millie came around the large island and pressed herself into the demon, wrapping her arms around him. The scar ended around her elbow, but the skin of it was shiny and uneven, a hint paler than the cinnamon of her usual skin color. She licked under his jaw and giggled, whispering in his ear, "Do you have any idea how long I've been stuck here alone?" Her voice was a sensual purr.

Balakai huffed a soft, low laugh that had no small amount of arrogance in it. He didn't watch Griffin leave, because he was quite suitably distracted by the familiar, still taller than he was by a few inches. He took advantage of the height difference to nuzzle the soft swell of her large breasts.  His hands slid down her sides and under the curve of her ass.

"He really doesn't let you out anywhere?" Balakai quirked a little grin and he lifted her up to set her on the edge of the counter. "That's a damn shame."  

His tongue slid, long and pointed, down her skin. Licking a path down between her breasts to her navel.

She let out a squeal of absolute delight. "Oh!  Your tongue!  That's..." and her eyes went very sultry, "That is wonderful."  

She nuzzled him into her chest and giggled. The feel of the warmth of another, of hands on her human skin and the way his tongue slid over her made her back arch into him, very much the cat that she was. Millie was always that, and the feline of her was rarely so apparent as now.  She kneaded her hands at his shoulders, then slid them up into his hair, almost a purring.  

"Nope. Never.  It's dangerous in the world." There wasn't a bit of sorrow in her voice, though. She was lonely sometimes, but she knew what life had been like for her before Griffin had saved her and taken her in. Anything was worth not going back to that. Even decades of celibacy that was definitely not her preference in human form. There were any number of wild cats who found their way, so she wasn't always alone, though. "But you're here now so I don't need to go anywhere."  

Her nails pricked at his skin, sharp and long.

He laughed, clearly pleased by her compliment, eyes bright and burnished gold. He pulled a hand from her just long enough to snag a stool and drag it over so he could perch on it.  No reason to wear himself out, or cut things short due to discomfort. He slid his hands back over her hips and under her ass, making sure she was just perched on the edge of the counter with her knees spread on either side of him.

"I'm not here to entertain you." He arched under the prick of her nails on his skin, grazing teeth and tongue along her inner thighs. "You're entertaining me."  

It was a clarification with no heat. Just to make sure she understood precisely what this was. Then he nuzzled closer between her legs and tasted her, not really giving her much preamble before his tongue slid into her, slowly. Exploring.

"Same difference," the cat in human form laughed before she let out a gasp. His tongue found places untouched in a long time, and she curled into him, but kept her knees apart and her hands on him.  

"Oh yessssss," her voice was all want, dripping with honey. The counter was hard under her, cold on her unclad skin even in the summer, but the way he held her without letting her fall gave her the space to simply give in to him. She was a wildly physical creature and she didn't really care what his reasons were for wanting her, she was delighted and that was plenty.

"Please, Sir!" And there was almost a yowl at the end of her words, the cat-like of her more prominent. She could smell the sex and arousal and demon of him and she ran her fingers through his hair and moved beneath him with clear enjoyment.

The demon huffed pleasure against her skin, breath hot as she curled into him, the sounds of it vibrating low in his chest. He drew back a little, the noise of his tongue sliding free of her downright obscene.  

"Good girl.  Now settle in, we're going to be here a while." His fingers kneaded the soft curve of her hips, and he dipped his head back down.

He took his time, exploring her folds and finding the places that made her squirm and yowl. He chased the sound of them, chased the way her nails dug in his skin and her body moved under his touch. He shifted his grip on her only once, to tip her back and hitch her legs up over his shoulders. Using the less precarious perch of her so that he could instead run his hands up her body to fill his hands with her breasts.

She twisted and squirmed under his hands, not to get away, but because she could not stay still. His tongue slid into her and moved in places never touched so and she almost screamed with the pleasure of it, moving into him to encourage, not to dissuade. Her back arched against the counter and she flailed, sending a crock of butter crashing to the hardwood floor. Neither of them paid it any mind.   

"Please, oh Sir, yes!" 

He growled laughter against her, and gave no quarter. Held her in place while she squirmed until his own situation became painful. He pulled free of her and nipped the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, teeth sharp. He pushed her back and pulled away, sliding off the stool so he could let the bomber jacket fall off his narrow shoulders. Following that, he peeled the cropped t-shirt over his head, revealing the unnatural definition of him- his ribs and the hollow under his sternum were still a little too prominent, what little extra he'd had not yet replaced from their sojourn in Faerie. His bruises were almost entirely gone, only the faint traces of their debauchery left on his skin. He peeled his pants down over his slim hips.

With a nimble little leap, he gained the counter top where he'd left her.  

"Ass up, kitten.” He nipped her hip, nevermind the cold of the counter or the ache in his shins and knees.

She yelped when his sharp teeth grazed her thigh, the sensitive skin yielding under his teeth. She watched him shed his clothes, eyes like Griffin's yet not watching him with appreciation, and she was not so lost in pleasure that she failed to notice the spell work on his skin. It looked different to her eyes than to others, the layers and threads of it beautiful and complex, moving slowly as the weaves and colors of it shined to her enchanted vision. It wasn't quite like anything she'd seen before, arranged differently than what she might have expected. Millie would have studied it closer, but then he was on the counter and all other thoughts fled.

The familiar was all vivacious curves and hips. She shifted to meet him, grabbed his cock to position it as she brought her hips up to him with a deep sigh and arch as she stretched her arms out above her and pushed anything in her way into the large, copper farm sink. She moved against him with enthusiasm, her fingers opening and closing on his hips which she abandoned to simply dig her claws into him heedlessly.

For a moment he let her guide him, let her arch and push herself onto him, his teeth and tongue grazing up the arch of her body. Then almost as abruptly he pulled back out of her and pushed her hands off of him. Instead he turned her onto her belly with a strength that belied his size. The weight of him, heavier than he should have been, pressed her into the cold stone of the counter as he mounted her.

He wasn't gentle. He caught her shoulder in his teeth to hold her, let the unfamiliar blood roll across his tongue and taste the brush of Griffin's magic tangled in every part of her. He growled as he fucked her, the hard of him swollen and too large. Hips snapped hard against hers, deep and sharp and fast.

Millie's eyes went wide and for a moment, she went still as fear ran like ice in her veins.  Her claws tried to grasp at his skin to stop him as she made a mewling kind of noise and she twisted like a cat in the air, twisting so that she could land on her feet. She wasn't strong enough to stop him, and she cried out as he took her. She cried when he bit into her, struggled to escape from raw instinct. Her claws scrabbled on the hard counter for a moment before her cries turned to moans and she pushed back into him, heedless to the blood that slid down her back and shoulder. 

He held her in place, the scent of blood mingled with sulfur and the old-herb smell of the house. Her cries echoed loud in the room, and when they slowly turned to moans he made a sound that might have been a bark of laughter but was muffled against her flesh. He rutted her until he shuddered, content to use her to scratch the physical itch of lust and to pass time. And to make sure that his place in the household was established. For all her comments that it didn’t matter who was entertaining who... well. He disagreed. She was close to Griffin. He wasn't going to be rid of her and certainly didn't mind her around. As long as they were absolutely clear where things  stood between them.

He huffed and let go of her, pulling out of her with a little grunt. He licked the blood from his teeth and lips, caught his breath, then smacked her ass and slid off the counter with the queer heavy grace of his and trailed after where Griffin had gone, chasing the witch's scent.