A Mazoku's Seduction

(-Or-

You Can't Rape the Willing)

by Xellas M.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Slayers or any of the characters. If I did they'd be too busy doing naughty things to save the world, so it's probably for the best.

Warnings: Yaoi, Lemon, PWP

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I shouldn't be watching him. After one thousand years you might think I would know better. You also might be inclined to think I would have learned some self control.

Either way, you would be wrong.

What I have learned after all this time is that nothing rankles more or longer than missed opportunity.

A wonderful excuse, ne?

So I hide in the shadows behind the fire in the fireplace to watch the lovely chimera as he gets ready for bed. So beautiful - believing himself alone, all his defenses are lowered. He unclasps the broach of his heavy cloak, folding it neatly and placing it on the dresser next to his pack. Good, it seems I am just in time. His gloves and belt follow, very slowly. There is an expression on his face I have never seen before. It is almost dreamlike, yet I can taste longing and pain radiating from him even more strongly than usual. The combination is intoxicating.

I love him and his pain hurts me. I revel in the sweetness of so much pain, his and mine, even though I would do anything to comfort him.

What? Who said Mazoku can't love? We live on pain - and what can possibly cause more pain than love?

Absently he removes his shirt and neatly sets it atop his cloak. He kicks off his shoes and goes to the basin of water the inn has provided. It must be cold; his nipples harden as he cleans himself with a very rough towel, using slow circular motions over his shoulders, arms and chest. Or maybe it is not so cold after all…. I forget myself and inhale sharply as a new emotion is threaded into the mix. Desire, linked so completely to the longing and pain that it feeds me as well, although that normally is impossible. Despite his extremely sensitive ears he does not seem to hear me. His motions change slightly, the towel is moving more slowly and definitely erotically. He turns slightly and I can see his need - sharply defined, even through the beige pants.

It occurs to me that he must be thinking of someone, imagining warm arms around him and soft lips caressing him. If I ever find out who it is, I will kill them slowly. I want to go to him, to show him just to whom he belongs. I want to leave and begin to try to forget. Torn, I stay.

A bitter smile plays briefly across his face. He sets down the towel with a soft sigh and makes his way heavily to the large armchair placed at an angle in front of the fire. Preoccupied, he removes his pants and leaves them in an uncharacteristic heap on the floor. I get an all too brief view of his entire naked, aroused form before he sits and the most exciting parts are hidden by the armrest of the chair. He rests his right hand on the chair as he leans his head back, staring into the flames that separate us but not seeing anything.

I withdraw behind the fire as far as I am able. I know that if he looks closely he will still be able to see me, but I'm really beyond caring about minor details at this point. Maybe I even want him to catch me.

He brings his left hand gently to his face, brushing his lips lightly. They part and his tongue emerges to moisten the area. His fingertips continue their journey, tracing his jawline and sliding onto his throat. His blue eyes are hooded now, only the slightest gleam of reflected firelight betraying the fact that they are still open. A soft gasp escapes from his throat as his touch moves lower, teasing nipples now extremely sensitive after the rough toweling. His other hand begins to tighten it's grip on the overstuffed chair. I can no longer taste anything other than the fierce desire radiating from his body, hotter than the fire that shields me.

Finally he is ready and his hand moves out of my line of sight, doing something I cannot see but that causes his back to arch and a moan to escape his lips. He freezes almost immediately and I suddenly realize that in my frustration I have again made some kind of exclamation. This time, however, he has heard me. Zelgadis' body is tense, his eyes searching the room. He sees me exactly as I make up my mind to teleport away, his gaze pinning me to the spot.

The worst has happened. Waves of humiliation, rage and fear are pouring from the chimera. I'm having the best meal of my life, but the price is high.

He speaks a Word and the fire is extinguished. He gets up and begin walking toward me, his stance aggressive and his eyes filled with hate. Beauty and danger - he truly wants to kill me. This fills me with an intense sorrow that increases my arousal to the point of physical pain.

I repeat words in my mind like a mantra, 'Don't hit me, Zelgadis. Please don't hit me, love. If you do I won't be able to control myself.'

Only one whispered plea makes it to my lips before he reaches back and punches me. Right in the face, too. I feel the lower lip of my human shell split and a trickle of blood begin to run down my chin.

I snap. I need him, now. I can no longer taste his feelings because I am completely lost within my own.

I catch his fist before it can connect again, holding it still simply so I can enjoy his pointless struggle to free it. I open my eyes: I want him to see me, to know what I am and what I want. I lick the blood from my chin and watch him shudder. This almost returns me to my senses but even that is not enough and then his other fist begins slamming into my stomach, repeatedly. I savor the sensation for a few moments then phase out to appear behind him.

To my delight, Zelgadis anticipates my move and spins with his demonic speed to intercept me as I reappear. Fortunately, I am quicker still. I grasp his head and begin forcing it towards mine for a kiss. Our first kiss. He tries to push me away, turning his head aside and pummeling at my chest. "Bastard." He hisses at me from between clenched teeth.

I say nothing and continue drawing him toward me. If anything, I move a bit more slowly to make sure he is perfectly aware of his own helplessness. Finally, I take his lips in my own. His body goes rigid. Gently, I brush my tongue lightly across his mouth, tracing the path his own tongue made before he became aware of my presence. He opens his mouth wider and I accept the invitation, exploring, tasting him. Seconds pass; then, suddenly, he bites down sharply, puncturing my tongue with his eyeteeth. I hear myself cry out in startled pain and pleasure, distracted enough to enable him to push me away for the moment.

Not even a heartbeat passes before I have him again. I hold both hands this time while making him back up until he is pressed against a wall and can go no further. I want so badly to hear that deep, soft voice cry out my name even if it's only in fear, but he is perfectly still again.

Something about this doesn't seem right somehow and I realize that he hasn't really been fighting me at all. He hasn't cast any spells, kicked me or even seriously tried to hit me in a vital spot. Puzzled, I look down at him.

His cheeks are flushed, a delightful rose stain that is spreading itself down his naked form, all the way down to…

Oh, my. He -likes- this?

He follows my gaze and smirks.

I can't think.

Still wearing the mischievous, sensual, knowing smile he shrugs. He frees himself easily from my loosened grasp, clasping his arms around my neck while pressing his hips into mine. He pulls me even closer, a soft chuckle now escaping his throat at the expression I'm wearing. It must be a good one; I'm not often this surprised.

He gently bites down on my lower lip. "I know you like it, Xellos. Every bit of pain I've given you has led up to this. What took you so long?" He doesn't wait for an answer, he kisses me.

"But you hate me. I felt it." I breathe when he finally releases me. I still haven't quite regained control of my voice, never mind my thoughts.

"Because I wanted you so much it hurt and you didn't even notice." He begins to bite along my neck, his hands moving from my hair to gently caress my back and chest.

If he really hated me, he would have used his spells and sword long ago. For two years I've been reading him wrong. Then again, how could I have possibly known that he would understand me so well?

It's been so long since I've been seduced, this feels wonderful.

He is the aggressor now, but then in a sense he always has been. His hands are roaming further, rubbing my erection through my pants. I want to touch him the way he is touching me so I do, enjoying the smooth hardness of his skin. We kiss again, this time without holding back, matching each other passion for passion. He removes my clothing one piece at a time, caressing every place as it's exposed until I can hear myself as though from a great distance panting and moaning his name.

The idea of finally being with a partner who is not afraid to take their pleasure from me sends shivers down my spine. That the idea is reality and that my partner is someone I love and respect makes the experience more intense than any I have had before.

I want to kneel and take him in my mouth, but he might not want that if he is planning to fuck me first. Slowly, I touch him and taste him, breathing in his scent. I was right, he does stop me before I can reach my ultimate goal.

He guides me across the floor until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. He shoves me roughly backwards and spreads my legs. I am out of my mind with anticipation but he pauses, apparently unsure how to proceed. I move my legs to his shoulders and am rewarded when he squeezes my cock tightly, pumps it once or twice, then moves his hand to massage my sacs with a feather-light touch. Eventually he stops the exquisite torture, tracing me with his finger until he locates my opening. He plunges the finger in briefly before removing it and adding another. Spreading his fingers gently to mark the place, he soon replaces them with the tip of his shaft, ready to take me. Finally he does, driving into me in a single, painful, beautiful stroke.

I do not have a chance to adjust as he is thrusting into me, filling me and hurting me and giving me pleasure. He calls out my name, his voice thick with lust - just the way I've always wanted to hear him say it. He is telling me to come for him. A few more minutes pass and I do. I am still pulsing when I feel him hit the edge and release inside of me.

Breath and sanity finally return but I still cannot sense any emotion from Zelgadis. Apparently for once there isn't a negative thought in his head. I'm glad. After all, it probably won't last and even if it does, there are plenty of other places to get a good meal.