Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

Drive to Hell

         "Oh yeah? It's 'cause you're in it baby," the raven-haired deadpanned as the sun burned Luka's skin a red.

         "Be quiet, and let me observe!"

        A red light made the abruptly hot car stop. "You sure you don't wanna' observe me instead?"

        "I'm sur-" Luka looked over, only for Mammon to be without shirt, and looping his arm under the seatbelt. "Seriously?!"

        The coal car started again, as the throne glared at the white tank top thrown over the driver seat. How had he managed to pull it off so quickly?

        The demon smirked at the throne, "It's your turn...or I could take it off you myself."

        "You'll never get into Heaven like this..."

       "Well...you could make me feel Heaven."

        Luka shook his head at his quipping, "You mean...bring Heaven to you?"

        "So you do wanna', huh?" He grinned, patting his inner thigh fluidly.

        "Just...shut up!" The brunet moved afresh in his seat, now facing a window that would not tease him. His viridian eyes meandered before the car came by a roundabout, ousting the rocky wall for a rather modern hotel. He hadn't taken Weißstein for an indigent town, but he was surprised to see such grandiose. Balconies convened on the protrusive grey wall in the middle, whilst long windows with bluish tint made the wall underneath. Other walls were brick, or had a look of wood, and they were topped off with slate roofs either flat or gable.

       "This hotel is so pretty!" Luka exclaimed, gaping as he shut the door to the car.

        The raven-haired pulled down his thin top, putting on his denim jacket before ambling to the boot. "Isn't it? This side of town is much better."

        As Mammon lifted out the black and red luggages, the brunet grabbed his pine green bag that was sated with clothes. A week at most they would stay, yet they packed like it was a month. They slid up the stone path, green trees around them and the luggages louder in protest of the harsh terrain. Underneath the canopy, and through the open grey doors of hotel, the oaken reception to their right.

      "Good afternoon!" The blonde's glossy smile was irradiated by the hanging lights aloft.

       "Hi, reservation for Dante?"

        The receptionist typed away at her computer. "Yes, I have your name here. A room for two?"

         "That's right."

         "Okay! Your room number is two-oh-three." The blazered woman handed Mammon a key before wishing their retiring bodies a joyful stay.

         After preceding the curving raisin stairs, down they strolled the tiled corridor, eyes arcing from door to door for their room. Two-zero-two. Two-zero-three. Ah! Two-zero-four. Mammon stuffed the key into the black door hinge, turning it before pushing the door agape. The brunet whooshed in and kicked off his shoes, corner of his lips quirking up as he inhaled the freshness of the room. He threw his bag onto the black armchair diagonal to the white bed.

         "This room is amazing!"

         The raven-haired stowed the luggages by the bathroom door. "Please tell me you've be'n to a hotel before."

         Luka fell back on the two beds, pressed against one another but with one wooden headboard to hide it. "Maybe..."

         "Tha's my thing." Taking off his washed jacket, and peeling off his tank top, Mammon climbed on top of the bed. The brunet felt the bed ripple as he fell back.

        "Mammon...," Luka started. "I'm...a bit worried about what'll happen in this town."

          Opening his eyes, the demon mused the side of his face. "Why?"

          "Nikolai, Sorra, Andrea...," he mumbled. "We left all those people behind, but now that we're back...what will happen? What of the gang?"

          "You worry too much, ya know."

          "Who will, if I don't." Promptly was Luka on his feet. "You promise...that we won't let anything happen?"

          The raven-haired arose his back. "What would happen?"

          "It doesn't matter, but...promise me." The brunet's feet took him to the square white window. "I don't want to step foot in that court again..."

          His voice quiet, as he stared down at the tiled ground, enclosing a pool like armies to mere huddles of soldiers. Scantily clad people swarmed round, wading through water or lain on sun chairs.

          "Luka, you still didn' tell me what happened there..."

          "It's a day I don't want to remember."

          "But you still live in it, baby." Mammon's steel eyes were afloat on him as he stepped close.

          "How can I- not?" The throne swivelled on his feet, his forearms on the windowsill.

         "There are so many fuckin' days I wish I could just...get rid of. But it doesn' work like that." His hands planted themselves on Luka's face. "You can't just let one day ruin the rest."

         The brunet's pair plied to his, and grasped them firmly—as though a tiger to its cub. His palms were cold, yet still soft; a feeling that nudged the memory of soaring through clouds. Luka glimpsed at the zigzag carpet. He really could find everything in Mammon. Sin. Deed. Emotion. But perhaps, that was what scared him. A fugitive three months remained, and the throne wondered if he would be left with nothing.

         "Thank you...Mammon," he whispered. "I'm...sorry for ruining the atmosphere."

         "I don' care about whatever fucking atmosphere." The tattooed demon kissed his forehead. "I care about you."

         "I care about you too."

         "If that's true, I want you to smile an' try to have a good time."

         Luka grinned, his arms prising the man closer to his body. "I love you, so much..."

         "You love me enough to take a shower with me?"