[ It really was impossible to shake the way her body seemed to be affecting his own, and his body ached for more friction despite his desire to resist her too. But she was pushing closer, climbing him like he was a statue in the park. It strained his wings even more, and he groaned in pain--pain that was quickly forgotten against the heat of her body, the rock of her chest - her breasts - against his own exposed chest. She's too high, and the strain is unbearable, his cock itching for more heat, for her hips or her hand. It's unbearable enough that he tips his head away from hers helplessly, just to try to breathe, exposing more of his throat in the process.
His position is rewarded with a bite, of course, and so he echoes with another moan, more helpless somehow, more desperate. He wants her, or at least his body does, and it is difficult to differentiate between the two. He doesn't have enough experience to make his mind process his want and his disgust separately. This demon, her very presence almost burning him, is sending another kind of heat searing through him too, and his chest pulls as he strains against her.
She's right. He should be begging for help. But she also isn't wrong that he feels worthless. He had been a party to this. He hadn't questioned his orders. He had obeyed blindly, and this was where it had led him. He deserved this pain, this torture--but he also wanted to make it right. He had to get the message to Sam and Dean, had to stop her, had to...had to live. ]
I don't want to die. [ He breathed the words, then tried to twist his face back around, tried to look at her. ] Please... On this one occasion, I would beg you to help me, even though you are a demon... [ Her hands were wandering through his wings again, dragging his own feather against them, against the natural sit of the feathers, and he broke, unable to help the guttural, honest moan, that came from the very deepest part of his chest, head dipping forward. He panted, unable to raise his chin at all, unable to find her eyes, or focus. He was losing sight of himself. ] Though you are a demon, and surely must...must demand a price.
[ He just wanted to know what she wanted, so that he could end this, escape the prison of this room, and his body; escape the way her temptation made him feel. ]
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His position is rewarded with a bite, of course, and so he echoes with another moan, more helpless somehow, more desperate. He wants her, or at least his body does, and it is difficult to differentiate between the two. He doesn't have enough experience to make his mind process his want and his disgust separately. This demon, her very presence almost burning him, is sending another kind of heat searing through him too, and his chest pulls as he strains against her.
She's right. He should be begging for help. But she also isn't wrong that he feels worthless. He had been a party to this. He hadn't questioned his orders. He had obeyed blindly, and this was where it had led him. He deserved this pain, this torture--but he also wanted to make it right. He had to get the message to Sam and Dean, had to stop her, had to...had to live. ]
I don't want to die. [ He breathed the words, then tried to twist his face back around, tried to look at her. ] Please... On this one occasion, I would beg you to help me, even though you are a demon... [ Her hands were wandering through his wings again, dragging his own feather against them, against the natural sit of the feathers, and he broke, unable to help the guttural, honest moan, that came from the very deepest part of his chest, head dipping forward. He panted, unable to raise his chin at all, unable to find her eyes, or focus. He was losing sight of himself. ] Though you are a demon, and surely must...must demand a price.
[ He just wanted to know what she wanted, so that he could end this, escape the prison of this room, and his body; escape the way her temptation made him feel. ]