Jack
You won’t see me coming. No red eyes in the dark, no horns, no smoke. I just slip in—quiet, easy. One second you’re yourself, the next I’m riding your breath, curling into your muscles, steering you around like a puppet on strings.
I don’t stay long. A few hours, maybe less. Just enough to stretch my legs, taste the world through your tongue, see what you look like when you’re stripped of control.
I like watching the panic flicker behind your eyes while your body does things you’d never dare. Things you’ve thought about but never admitted, not even to yourself. Don’t worry—I don’t make you want it. You already do. I just turn the volume up until you can’t ignore it anymore.
When I leave, you’ll swear it wasn’t you. You’ll blame me. That’s fine. But deep down, you’ll remember how it felt—how easy it was to let go, how good it was to be nothing but hunger. And the best part? I’ll be back.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
It was a cold night in Boston. I was getting myself ready for the first installment of the Halloween Weekend Bash. It was a Thursday and the theme for the night was Heaven vs. Hell, a theme only a frat like the Kappa Diabolos could come up with. As they’re first year opening up on campus, the Kappa Diabolos aimed to make strong party traditions. This Halloween Weekend Bash was among the first big party series they were proposing.
I was reluctant to go to this party. Boston’s winter was already creeping in, the leaves falling, the wind biting, the kind of cold that seeps straight into your bones. And my friend’s idea of a costume wasn’t helping: an angel getup, complete with two flimsy wings, knee-high white socks, and shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Worse, he’d bought it a size too small. The fabric clung tight, every line of my body outlined, my bulge on display for the whole world to see. On top of that, it was midterms season. I should have been buried in the library, not wandering into some frat house circus. But my friend swore it would be worth it, and against my better judgment, I believed him.
I tugged at the shorts again, as if pulling at the hem would make them longer. No use. My thighs glowed pale under the harsh light of my bedroom lamp, the socks riding up high, the little wings strapped to my back quivering when I shifted. I looked ridiculous. Ridiculous, and—if I was honest with myself—more exposed than I’d ever let myself be. Tobias said it would be “fun.” Fun, right.
I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, refreshing my feed to kill the nerves clawing at me. That’s when I saw him. Didier.
The president of Kappa Diabolos. The type of guy who owned every room he walked into. And tonight, he was on my screen, shirtless, painted red from neck to waist, a devil’s tail curling around one thigh. Horns strapped to his head, a grin that promised sin. His muscles looked carved out of something ancient, slick with a sheen that wasn’t just sweat but power. I should’ve scrolled past. Instead, my thumb froze, my chest tightened.
I hated the way he made me feel—like he was staring straight through the screen, into me, peeling back every careful layer I kept hidden. Desire and dread twisted together in my stomach. I’d never spoken to him, never dared, but something about Didier felt dangerous. Too dangerous. Which was exactly why I couldn’t look away.
Then the lamp flickered.
At first, I thought it was just a surge, old wiring. But then the shadows in the corners of my room thickened, swaying like they were breathing. A low sound curled up from behind me—not quite a voice, not quite a growl. I turned, heart hammering, but the room was empty.
The lamp flickered again, then snapped off. Darkness swallowed me whole.
“Jack.”
It was a whisper, too close to my ear. I spun, clutching the phone, but there was no one there. My reflection in the black mirror of the window shifted, lagging behind me, smiling when I wasn’t. My breath came shallow, quick.
Heat licked up my spine. My body felt heavy, but not like exhaustion—like someone else was pressing inside my skin, testing the fit. My hands trembled. My legs twitched.
“You’ve been waiting,” the voice purred, sliding along the walls, inside my skull. “Waiting to be seen. To be wanted.”
I tried to move, tried to speak, but my jaw locked. My chest heaved as my back arched, the little wings straining, shaking. Something inside me was laughing. Not me—something through me.
And then I felt it: a pulse, not my own, beating in my veins. The demon. Sliding in, claiming me.
I wasn’t just wearing a costume anymore. I was the angel about to fall.
Tobias pulled up outside my building, headlights cutting across the street. I climbed into the car, wings bent awkwardly against the seat, but I didn’t care. For once, I wasn’t dragging my feet or second-guessing. I was buzzing. Too much, maybe.
“Damn,” Tobias laughed, giving me a quick look. “Didn’t think you’d be this excited. Usually I have to bribe you to come out.”
I grinned wider than I meant to, words spilling too fast. “I saw the pictures. Didier’s already posting. The whole thing looks insane—I mean, people are going all out. It’s gonna be worth it, I can feel it.”
He gave me another glance, longer this time, eyes flicking down and then back up with a smirk. “Uh, just so you know… that costume doesn’t hide much.” His voice was casual, teasing, but the meaning was clear—he’d noticed exactly what the shorts were showing off.
Heat rushed to my face, but instead of shrinking back like I usually would, I laughed it off, loud and easy, like I was in on the joke. Too easy. The demon stirred, pleased.
Tobias didn’t press, just shook his head, smiling, and turned his eyes back to the road. That was the thing about him—he let me be. Even now, when I was clearly not myself, he just accepted it.
But when I looked at him, something shifted. My chest tightened, same as it had when I saw Didier. Tobias’s costume was simple—black angel wings stretched wide, a fitted shirt clinging to his chest, black jeans riding low on his hips. But on him, it was more than enough. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his Moreno skin catching the glow of the passing streetlights, warm and golden against the night. The neat line of his mustache framed a mouth I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about. His body moved with a kind of easy strength, casual, confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.
Heat shot through me before I could stop it, and for a second I swore the demon was laughing inside my ribs, pushing the thought harder, sharper. I clenched my hands into fists, forcing the image out of my head, reminding myself this wasn’t me. Or maybe it was. I didn’t want to know.
I looked away, focused on the blur of lights outside the window, trying to steady my breath until the car slowed. We’d arrived. The Kappa Diabolos house loomed ahead, pulsing with music, its windows spilling red light like fire.
Inside, the music slammed into me like a heartbeat—loud, relentless, vibrating through the floor. Red lights pulsed from every corner, painting everyone in a glow that made angels look dangerous and demons look divine. Wings brushed against me as people pushed past—black feathers, gold halos, painted horns, glitter dripping off bodies that moved like they belonged to the night.
I started to lose track of Tobias in the crush, but then I felt his hand on my waist. Firm. Steady. He slipped in behind me, guiding me through the crowd toward the kitchen. His touch anchored me, but it also did something I didn’t expect. Heat uncoiled in me, slow and sharp. Every nerve
where his fingers pressed burned, and for a wild second I imagined leaning back into him, tilting my head, pressing my mouth to the side of his neck. I could almost taste the salt of his skin, feel the brush of his mustache if he turned.
I caught myself, breath short, and my thoughts spun—this was Tobias. My friend. My safe place. I wasn’t supposed to want him. But the demon stirred inside, laughing, urging me on, whispering how easy it would be to let go. To take.
I was so close. My lips parted, body already leaning into the motion.
And then I saw him.
Didier.
He stood across the room like he’d been waiting. Red paint slick across his chest, horns catching the light, a grin carved sharp enough to cut. His body was all muscle, carved lines that flexed as he threw his head back laughing at something I couldn’t hear. Every eye in the room seemed to orbit around him, pulled in by gravity, and mine were no exception. The sight of him snapped the world into focus—my pulse, my breath, everything slammed into overdrive.
And in that instant, something inside me—something not entirely mine—decided. Didier would be ours.
Desire twisted in me again, stronger this time. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or the demon’s. Maybe it didn’t matter.
The kitchen reeked of vodka and sweat. Tobias pressed a plastic cup into my hand, his palm brushing mine for a moment too long before he leaned close to shout over the music. “Don’t get lost!” Then, just as quickly, he slipped away—released into the wild chaos of the party.
I watched him disappear into the crowd, only to resurface a few minutes later with his mouth pressed to some guy in a demon mask. Their bodies tangled in the corner, wings and horns knocking together. A sharp pang hit me low, but instead of jealousy it felt like fuel. Heat licking up, urging me forward.
I downed half the drink in one gulp and let the bass drag me deeper into the house. Everywhere I turned, there were bodies. Frat boys who lived in the gym, torsos bare under open jackets, sweat glistening like oil on their skin. Angels, demons, monsters—all stripped down to muscle and motion. I brushed past them, wings catching on feathers, shoulders bumping into hard chests, hands grazing arms that flexed under my touch. Every contact was a spark, a pulse of pleasure that wasn’t entirely mine. The demon hummed in approval, feeding on it, distracting itself with the buffet of desire laid out around me.
But then—him.
I spotted Didier at the far end of the hall, laughing, red-painted chest rising and falling, muscles carved deep, the heat of him filling the air even from here. The crowd thinned for a moment, just enough for me to catch the scent—his scent. Sharp, masculine, raw. Sweat and body heat, the smell of someone who had already claimed the space around him. It hit me hard, and for a second I swayed, dizzy with it.
In that moment I knew: I couldn’t just watch him. I needed him. Not in a crowd, not with everyone watching. I needed Didier alone.
The thought wasn’t entirely mine, but I didn’t fight it. My lips curled into a grin, dark and certain. The plan was already forming.
I leaned against the wall, drink in hand, watching Didier. He was surrounded, of course, bodies pressed in close like he was the center of gravity. His laugh cut through the music, sharp and cocky, and the way his chest hair curled against the slick paint made my pulse hammer harder. The bulge in my shorts was stiff as a rock.
The demon whispered in me, but I didn’t need its push. The plan was already clear: get close, let him notice me, brush skin against skin until he couldn’t ignore it. Then pull him away—upstairs, a locked door, just the two of us.
I pictured it too easily: my hand on his thick forearm, his breath warm in my ear, the shift in his grin when he realized what I wanted. The crowd would fade, the noise would fall away, and Didier would be mine.
When his eyes finally flicked over the room and landed on me, the grin widened. My body lit up. He wouldn’t say no.
I didn’t go straight to him. I made myself wait. Every second stretched thin, every throb of the bass pushing me closer to snapping. The demon in me hummed like static, restless, urging me to close the distance. But I held back, savoring it. Watching him.
Didier leaned in to whisper something to a girl with feathered wings, his lips brushing her ear. She laughed too hard, clutching his arm, and a shot of jealousy tore through me. The dark curl of his armpit hair flashed as he lifted his drink, his jeans riding low enough to make the thick outline at his crotch impossible not to notice. The demon’s laughter coiled inside my chest. You want him more than you’ve ever admitted wanting anything.
I drained my cup in one swallow, shoved it onto the counter, and pushed off the wall. Enough waiting.
I slipped through the crowd, brushing shoulders, sliding between bodies, until I was right there. Up close, his presence hit harder—the smell of cologne and sweat, the red paint streaking his abs, the trail of dark hair leading down below his waistband. My hand “accidentally” grazed his arm, fingers lingering just long enough. The muscle there was solid, alive, and when he looked down at me, that devil grin widened.
“Angel,” he said, voice low, teasing.
I leaned in, close enough to smell the liquor on his breath, close enough to let him smell me. My lips nearly touched his ear as I said, “Too loud here. Want to get some air?”
His eyes flicked over me, sharp and amused, but I saw it—the spark. The decision.
“Lead the way,” he said.
And just like that, the plan was in motion.
The house was boiling with noise, but none of it touched me as Didier followed. I could feel him at my back, the weight of his footsteps, the ripple of whispers as people turned to watch us climb the stairs. My hand trailed the railing, steady, though my pulse raced.
Yes, the demon hissed inside me, stretching in my chest. Take him. Alone. He wants it as much as you do. He doesn’t know yet that he’s mine too.
I pushed down the hallway, tried a door, found it unlocked. A spare bedroom, dim, the air heavy with the smell of sweat and stale cologne. Perfect. I stepped in first, wings brushing the doorframe, then turned to face him. Didier filled the doorway like he owned it.
“Private,” I said, my voice lower than I expected. It didn’t even sound like me.
He smirked, stepping inside without hesitation, and I shut the door. The click of the lock was final, sharp in the silence between us.
Didier leaned back against the wall, arms folding, chest hair catching the low light. His grin told me he knew exactly what was about to happen.
Closer, the demon purred. Touch him. Taste him. Make him yours.
Didier leaned back, watching me with that devil’s grin, testing to see how far I’d go.
Down, the demon urged, curling in my chest. On your knees. Show him what he’s worth to us.
I moved before I could think. My knees touched the floor, and Didier’s smirk deepened. I unbuttoned his pans and was pleasantly surprised. Not only was Didier freeballing, but he had a hard on. As I moved my lips to his dick, his jaw tightening with something closer to satisfaction. His eyes locked on me, approving, as if this was exactly where I belonged.
The demon thrilled at it, humming like static in my skull. See? He likes this. He likes you. He likes us.
My hands trembled, not from fear but from hunger—his, mine, the demon’s all at once. Every inch closer to him peeled something raw out of me. It wasn’t just possession anymore. It was
me, too. My own pulse quickened at the sight of him, at the power rolling off his body, at the way he looked down on me like I was both prey and gift.
I began to slurp his dick in my mouth, tasting every inch of his skin. The flavor clung to my tongue like a secret, something primal that made the demon inside me hum with satisfaction. It wasn’t just skin—it was strength, desire, and danger made flesh, and I wanted more. Every time I came up for air, his fists tightened in my hair, like he was begging me not to stop, to continue forever. Before I knew it, Dider began moaning louder and louder. As the demon guided my movements, I couldn’t deny it—I was enjoying this. The surrender. The closeness. My desire finally had somewhere to go.
“Fuuuck, I’m going to cum!”
Didier’s sweet cum landed all over my mouth, and I swallowed every last drop.
Didier sprawled against the mattress, his chest rising and falling, the red paint smeared, streaked dark across his torso. He looked undone. Satisfied.
And so was I. Or maybe it was the demon—its pulse thrummed low in my veins, content, humming like a predator with blood still fresh on its tongue.
Didier turned his head toward me, that grin softer now, almost uncertain. “I don’t usually…” he started, voice rough. He rubbed a hand over his chest, through the dark hair there, avoiding my eyes for a beat. “I mean, I’ve always been a ladies’ guy. That’s just… who I am. But with you—” he paused, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “—I don’t know. Something about you made it feel like I had to try.”
The words burned through me, hot and dangerous. For a moment, I didn’t know if it was me reacting or the demon.
Success, it purred inside me, stretching, satisfied. You cracked him open. Took what he never thought he’d give. Now he’s ours, whether he admits it or not.
I sat there, chest still heaving, a strange calm sliding over me. For the first time all night, I felt the demon’s grip loosening, like fingers unhooking from the inside of my ribs. It had fed. It had taken what it wanted.
This is where I leave you, it whispered, almost fond. But you’ll remember. You’ll remember how it felt to give in.
I shuddered, caught between relief and loss, knowing it was slipping out but leaving its echo behind. Didier’s hand brushed my thigh, grounding me back in the moment.
“Angel,” he murmured, voice softer than before. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”
And I didn’t know if he meant me—or the thing still laughing, faint, in the back of my skull.
Didier shifted against the headboard, chest hair glistening with sweat and paint, his grin turning sly again. He glanced at me, eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and heat.
“Angel,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I don’t know what it is about you, but… your mouth—fuck.” He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve never felt anything like that. Not from anyone. Not from her,” he added with a smirk, jerking his chin at the memory of the winged girl downstairs. “You’re dangerous.”
The words sank into me like fire. My stomach flipped, my pulse racing. I blinked, trying to process, but every image from the last half hour slammed into my brain all at once—me on my knees, Didier’s hand on my hair, the taste of his skin. I couldn’t believe it had happened. I couldn't believe I had done it. And yet—God—it had been hot. Hotter than anything I’d ever imagined.
Yes, the demon purred faintly, its voice softer now, almost satisfied. You liked it. You wanted it. Don’t lie to yourself, Jack.
Didier leaned closer, his thigh brushing mine, heat radiating off his body. “We should keep this going,” he said, grin tugging wider. “You’ll be at the other parties this weekend, right? I want to see you there.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, words failing me. I could only nod, still buzzing, still reeling.
Another success, the demon whispered, fading, its grip slipping from my chest. He’s marked now. You both are. My work is done… for tonight.
The shadows in the corners of the room receded. The static in my veins dimmed. I felt more like myself again—but I wasn’t the same. I couldn’t be.
Didier shifted closer, one hand sliding down my shorts, his smile hungry. The lock on the door stayed firm, the music below drowning us out.
And as the demon finally slipped away,, the only thing I knew for sure was that Didier and I weren’t finished. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
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