The Devil Made Me Do It

My back arches and I grind against the caresses, my moans an answer to his groans of pleasure. My pace quickens, and his hips buck in helpless need before I feel his hand tighten in my hair, scrunching it, knotting it, and I know I don’t need godly powers to own him.

**Content Warning: Sexual Situations**

I slap my hand over my left arm as it erupts in a piercing pain. My head snaps towards the intense burn as it flows up my shoulder, and gold ichor pools beneath my hand as I remove my fingers one at a time. A scratch no bigger than a thin line now decorates it. My veins suddenly glow red along the edges, spreading out as liquid fire races through them. My body stiffens as the magic of the hinds blood wraps my powers. I am left weak and dizzy, and the flashes of Tartarus no longer overlay themselves on my vision. I see the penthouse clearly now, overturned couches and chairs, broken tables greet me. It’s true decor revealing itself. The screams that wailed in my head slowly lower in volume, from shouting to speaking to a whisper to gone. The building rumbles and shakes no more. My head no longer aches. For the first time in a thousand years, I can focus.

I look up at Erebus in disbelief. His brows are furrowed in worry. He continues to hold me against his torn, overly priced suit. My eyes search his face, the same one I memorized in my Hell prison. The same one that saved me from my nightmares there. He did it. Again. Just like Tartarus. Just like my dreams. He brought me peace. Clarity. I know that the hinds blood won’t last, and my powers will return. That ache in my chest over what he did will return, but I want to pretend that what he said earlier was true. That he meant it. That he cares for me. I want to live in it, even for a moment. 


He goes to speak, but I don’t give him a chance as my desire overcomes the logical part of my brain. I thread my hands through the back of his hair, crushing his lips to mine. The motion shocks him, and he pulls away, his eyes sweep over my face like he is memorizing every feature. Or maybe he is questioning if I know what I am doing? I know what I am doing, and I need him. Now. The hunger must be apparent in my eyes, for his hand cups my chin, slowly pulling me back in. His mouth presses against mine, soft and tender, something I am not used to. I don’t want gentle. I want rough and raw. I want to feel alive. I want him, his mouth, his hands, all of him on me. 

He strokes the back of his fingers along my cheek with feather-like softness as his lips part mine. He’s sweet. I am not.

I suck on his bottom lip, nipping at it as I pull back a little. I drag my hands down his chest and stomach, my palm brushing over the font of his pants in a bold caress. A deep groan rises from his throat as he weaves his hands through my hair, his mouth finally devouring mine, and I give in. Gods, did I give in. He tastes better than any wine, and I wonder if the rest of him will taste the same. This isn’t like Italy. It’s not short or questioning. It’s deep and penetrating. An echo to all the things we have been fighting since he found me the first time. He moans against me as I deepen the kiss, my tongue dancing across his. 

My hands reach and grab at any part of him I can get, desperate to shred anything in the way of what I want. What I crave. I fumble with the front of his shirt, ripping at the useless fabric keeping us apart. I yank with as much force as I can muster, buttons pinging off the floor. Soon the damned material is gone, and my hands dance across the hard planes and ridges of his flesh, desperate to touch every inch of him I can. 

“Tell me you want me again,” I demand, pulling back. My voice a breathy whisper against his lips. 

“I want you,” he responds, his voice deeper, huskier.

“Show me.” 

He wastes no time as he rips the front of my dress down the center. It pools to the floor, leaving me bared. I can’t be certain in the darkness of the room, but I can feel his gaze move over me. His eyes go straight to my breasts, then lower. I sweep my long hair out of the way, wanting him to take in every bit of me. Heat flushes my entire body beneath the power of his stare, and it only fuels my lust. He stands as if frozen in place, not making any move to come closer. 

“Is there something wrong?”

His face becomes serious before meeting my gaze. “No.” 

He takes a step towards me, the heat of his body brushing against mine. My nipples harden, and the corners of my mouth turn up in a grin. I lean into him, my hands laying firmly on his bare chest. I feel the heightened pace of his heartbeat, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that mine matches the same rhythm. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive as I stretch against him. Slowly, deliberately. The feel of his skin on me is exquisite. Addicting. It’s better than any satin or silk I have ever felt. My nipples rub against the hard planes of his chest, sending another jolt of pleasure curling in my belly. I lean in to kiss him once more, but his hand fists in my hair, tilting my head to the side. He bends, kissing and nipping along my jaw then neck, only to trace the path back again. His mouth is like liquid fire against my skin, sending flames to my very core. Every move he makes leaves me feeling hot and feverish.  

A moan escapes me as his hand cups my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple, sending shivers through my entire being. His mouth dips, replacing his hand. His tongue flickers over one nipple before capturing the other. I moan, grabbing at his hair as I tilt my head back, my body arching into him. He moves from breast to breast, licking and kissing, savoring me before he blazes a trail back to my mouth. With both hands, he grabs hold of my ass, pulling me even closer to him. I can feel his excitement, his hardness grinding against the very part of me that needs him in so badly. In one solid motion, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. With this new angle, I yank his hair hard enough that his face meets mine, and I can claim his mouth once more. He becomes greedier and full of need as I moan into the kiss. 

Everything I have been holding back fights to the surface. And I let it win. No more hiding what I feel. No more games. My body grinds against his as he walks us towards a wall, pushing me against it. He pulls back from our kiss, and I slide slowly down his body. The sensation sends shivers to places that already ache. His hand reaches forward, moving stray hair from my face. He traces the line of my lips then jaw with a single thumb. The way he looks at me sends my heart beating against my chest like a caged beast. I feel vulnerable and raw under that gaze. The same gaze I dreamt of for a thousand years. His face is full of questions. Questions I know I don’t have the answers to. I lean forward, my lips brushing his. He responds tenderly, with an emotion I can’t handle right now. The whole reason I am here, the reason why this is even happening, is built around something I don’t want to process. This could be happening with someone else. Another girl. Whoever would have won. Jealousy burns as hot as my desire, I wrap my ankle around his and push him backward, taking him by surprise. I may be weak, but it’s enough to catch him off guard and send him tumbling to the floor. 

I don’t give him time to process what just happened. I’m on top of him within seconds. My hands cup the sides of his face as I kiss him deeper than before. Pressing closer and drinking him in. All I know is that I need him and want him more than I ever wanted anything in this life or the next. Images pull at my brain from the last few weeks, igniting a response in me I haven’t felt before. I break the kiss and move lower, needing to claim him, mark him, show him that he is mine even if only for tonight. I bite, nip, and lick every inch of him I can as I descend lower. His taut muscles bunch beneath my path, and I hear him groan as his hands rub along any part of me he can reach. I push up, shaking the loose curls out of my face before I straddle him. 

“Tell me you need me again.” A slow, seductive smile spreads across my face. 

“I always need you.” Eyes, black as the void itself, meet mine while my hands reach for the fly of his pants. 

My eyes don’t leave his as I undo the belt, whipping it off and tossing it to the side. I watch him, biting my lower lip as I reach my hand inside. His head falls back, and a deep moan escapes him as I take him in my hand. I want him to beg, to know that no one else will ever measure up to me. That he is mine. Only mine. Gripping him tight, I slide down his body and toss my hair to one side before taking him into my mouth. My hands, lips, and tongue work to elicit a chorus of low guttural groans from the Primordial of Darkness. And it’s music to my ears. 

I feel his touch dance along my breasts. It takes me a moment to realize it’s not his hands. It’s his shadows. I continue my assault as the shadows tease, dipping lower, gliding between my thighs and stroking me in all the places he wishes he could reach. My back arches and I grind against the caresses, my moans an answer to his groans of pleasure. My pace quickens, and his hips buck in helpless need before I feel his hand tighten in my hair, scrunching it, knotting it, and I know I don’t need godly powers to own him. 

He curses again in an ancient language before he grasps under my arms, dragging me upwards and away from my task. Before I can register what’s going on, he flips me onto my back, his mouth slamming onto mine. He is past all semblance of control, of sanity, exactly the way I want him. I have had many lovers in my life, but none have ever kissed me with so much passion and need. It sets my whole body ablaze, and I fan it into a raging fire because I refuse to smolder. He kicks off the reminder of his pants, his mouth never leaving mine. His hand grasps my thighs, raising and spreading them apart, settling himself between. As he leans in, he lifts my leg, draping it over his shoulder, my other along his side. I can feel him teasing me, waiting to enter, his gaze locked on mine. I reach between us, impatient and needing all of him now. I don’t have a second thought, or any thought for that matter, as I feel the entirety of him.

The pleasure overwhelms me as my nails rake down his back. My moans echo through the penthouse as he groans in the same instance. I throw my head back as he moves over me, his thrusts feverish. Hungry. Primal. Like I woke a sleeping beast. Wave after wave of pleasure wash over me as he slams deep. His mouth catches mine, muffling most of my screams as he grinds against me, every move he makes short circuiting my brain. I can’t think. I can’t function. All I know is that I need more. Want more. Even if it kills me. 

“Erebus, yes.” A breathless sound escapes me. “Please!”

I have never begged in my entire existence, but oh gods, do I beg now. I urge him to go faster, harder, and he obliges. I don’t care if he breaks me at this point, I will gladly accept it. I kiss and bite any part of him I can reach, knowing I am leaving marks on his skin. I’m almost feral in the way that I want him. But I don’t care. I push on his shoulder, arching my body upwards as he flips us over, allowing me to be on top. My hands rest on his thighs as I lean back and grind against him. His hands grip the flare of my hips, holding me, almost bruising as he moves me the way he likes. Pure bliss touches every nerve ending I have as the pressure builds and builds. It’s euphoric. I rock, matching his rhythm as he writhes beneath me. 

“Atë…” I hear him hiss.

He sits up, one hand wrapping around my back, pulling me closer to him. We don’t miss a beat, our bodies moving together as one. My cries become frantic, desperate. I grip his shoulders as his hands move to my ass, urging me faster. I can feel the barely caged ferocity coil in his body, begging for release. I want it all, nothing held back, and I claw his shoulders, demanding it. It’s all I can take before my body convulses, my thighs trembling against his hips as my orgasm rips me apart from the inside out. I cry out as I tighten around him, shaking uncontrollably, and I know If I had my powers, this building would fall. Damn, I might even bring down the world. His hands grip my hair tight, his mouth almost bruising against my neck. I hear him groan my name and something else in a language I do not care to decipher as his orgasm rips through him. His shadows explode to fill the room, and our world goes black. For once in a thousand years, I’ve lost track of time in the best possible way.


A sharp pain shoots through my head, jolting me awake. I press against my temples, gritting my teeth as I lean forward on the hard marble. It takes a second for it to stop, my eyes adjusting again to the destroyed room. No, wait. Not a room. A penthouse. I rub my forehead as the memories of last night playback. Or was it days? I can’t remember. Time is always screwed up for me. Wait. I grab my arm, running my finger over the smooth skin, looking for the cut, but it’s long gone. I adjust, pulling the thin sheet back and looking over my body next. Slowly the love bites and bruises disappear one by one, their grey coloring fading back into my olive complexion like stars going out. Healing. My powers are back. And they hurt like a bitch. I take in more of my surroundings, unaware of what part of the penthouse we are even in anymore. 

Shifting, I turn to look at Erebus as he sleeps, one arm underneath his head and the other wrapped around me. He’s beautiful. He always has been. I watch for a moment as his chest rises and falls with every breath. I could memorize every line, curve, and feature of him and still never get bored. Another sharp pain hits me as the damn ache in my head comes back again, along with the voices.

It’s not real.

 I know that, but I still wish I could stay.

He doesn’t care about you.

Shut up! I snap in my head. I mean, I could pretend I wasn’t a raging psychopath. Pretend that I was decent enough for him. Pretend that there was a future besides all the ruin and destruction I bring with me. 

There’s not.

If he cared, he would have never been here. He left you to rot, like everyone else. 

They’re right. It’s not real. He proved that. He had been here for eight weeks and would have ended up with someone else had I not shown up. And now I just made a huge fucking mistake. I shut my eyes tightly as moisture stings them. I have been to Hell. Our version of it, at least. So believe me when I say that being with him is the closest I will ever get to reaching Heaven. But I can’t…no, no, I won’t do it again. I take one look at the ransacked penthouse. The ceiling fixtures are hanging on by a thread. The tables and furniture are in shambles, and pieces are scattered around the room. I’d ruin him like I ruin everything and everyone. My form dissipates as one fleeting thought crosses my mind. Regardless of the show, the outcome, my rage, and violence, Erebus had won. He got what he wanted in every way imaginable. 

Someone loved him.

Retired Scribe
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