dojimakaichou

[dojimakaichou]

someone is visited at work (for any verse, when the need for the boys strike!)

★. ―

Daigo groaned and buried his face in his hands. There were colorful spots swimming across his vision. He had taken off his glasses twenty minutes ago in an attempt to fix it. Vainly, it seemed. There was no culprit left outside of his own trusty laptop, which meant that he was done working for the day.

The ex - yakuza sighed. His leg was shaking under his desk. Whether it was from his absurdly high caffeine intake lately, exhaustion, or the sense of frustration he felt from being isolated — he couldn't say. Daigo scrubbed at his hair and stood up suddenly, knocking his chair back. He caught it quickly, puffed out a breath, and left his makeshift office.

Daigo scratched at his side ideally as he walked toward the kitchen. His joints were stiff from sitting for so long. Grumbling, he stepped into the far brighter shared area. At the sight of his partner in the room, he couldn't help but smile. The strange, almost nervous energy in his body didn't dissipate, but his broad shoulders did relax. Daigo took a moment to pull up his hair with one of the ties from around his wrist while he watched Akiyama flit between the various counters.

Flour splashed up from a bowl, and the loan shark placed his hands on his hips with a frown. Daigo's chuckle alerted him to his audience. Akiyama kept the same stance as he turned, merely shifting the weight on his feet. There was something wet smeared on his forehead.

"Bread ??" Daigo asked, raising a brow. He stepped closer, nails digging into his beard.

Akiyama pointed to the soft glow of the oven. "That's bread." His finger drifted back to the mixing bowl, almost accusatory. "This is cake." The moneylender's smile curved down into a frown. "It should be, anyway."

Daigo groaned, long and low. He shook his head, leaning into the counter. "Cake ??" he repeated. "You can't do this to me, Shun." A palm pressed to the former Chairman's bare middle, emphasizing its surprising lack of defined muscle. Thick digits tugged at his sweatpants. "I'm not going to fit in anything when this is over : I have already lost most of my gym clothes to your creations."

The younger man replied by poking his finger into Daigo's belly. It was still rather firm, but Akiyama knew that didn't satisfy his boyfriend. Daigo had been taught that strength came from looking and behaving like an American - style professional wrestler. He could not accept anything less than that.

"Stop it, Dojima," he scolded, shaping his hand to instead pinch the bit of fat just above Daigo's trousers. The ex - yakuza recoiled with a faint whine. "You look good. These — " Akiyama grasped Daigo by the hips, thumbs stroking flesh and fabric in equal measure as they strayed — " don't mean anything, except that there is more of you for me to enjoy."

Daigo grunted noncommittally, straightening. He touched Akiyama's face and swept loose strands of hair behind his ear. The way his breathing shortened made the moneylender laugh. At that, the loan shark pulled away.

"I am working," he stressed, voice low.

"Working ??"

Akiyama nodded. "Baker Shun, at your service !!" came his answer, which was accented by a wink. He spread his arms out. The gesture encompassed the greased pans, open packages of ingredients, and tub of frosting in front of him. "I could start a bakery after this — until Elise opens. It might only sell bread, though."

Daigo stepped behind Akiyama suddenly. He wrapped his arms around the loan shark and lifted him off of his feet. The younger man's yelp of shock quickly turned into a shout of protest. Daigo threw Akiyama over his shoulder unceremoniously, barking laughter filling the kitchen.

"Your timer has two hours on it," the former Chairman countered, patting his boyfriend's legs.

Akiyama couldn't see the older man's grin, but he pictured it perfectly. That devious slant and the flash of Daigo's teeth that always accompanied it stirred up something in Akiyama, who bit his lip. He sighed dramatically, propped his chin against the heel of his hand, and resigned himself to his fate. The kitchen was quickly swapped for the living area. In no time, the loan shark was deposited on the sofa. Daigo quickly overwhelmed Akiyama's senses : kissing lips, desperate touches, and muffled whimpers surrounded him.

There would be more time to fight with the right mix of flour and vanilla. The moneylender surrendered to Daigo with ease, just as he had every day since their forced confinement. They were together, he thought. Akiyama groaned out his thanks for that as Daigo pulled down his shorts. It was a chaotic life that they presently led, but they were together.

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Melissa lifted his chin. Daigo's teeth came together, moving the strong jaw atop the demoness' finger. His eyes narrowed at her. The yakuza shuddered, wet his lips, and opened his mouth. After a moment, however, it closed ; the low grunt that Daigo issued instead solidified that he didn't know what to say.

One of his hands slid over, abandoning its place at the edge of his desk in favor of her thigh. With his abyssal gaze still locked on the beautiful creature before him, he placed his palm on her bare flesh. The kimono was too short to really stop him. Slowly, the yakuza curled his fingers in. Daigo inhaled sharply. Melissa was right : he was extremely tense, wound up inside and out due to the stress of the day. Even the simple act of touching her threatened to undo him, and that realization made him feel more frustrated.

Eerily silent, the Sixth Chairman used his grip to position Melissa's legs to either side of his waist. He worked blindly, refusing to look away from her. Daigo dragged her as needed, taking advantage of the demoness' small frame. When he was finished, he laid his hand on the same thigh he had began with. Compared to her frigid skin, he was on fire, and the flush on his cheeks showed it as much as the bit of sweat shining on his brow.

It was then that Daigo drew back his head and kissed the tips of Melissa's fingers. "Lucky ??" he echoed, deep voice rolling out into his office like a low peal of thunder. "You have completely rewritten my schedule and cost me any remaining chance to correct the biggest challenge of my day — my month, to be truthful." The yakuza's eyes were hard, and they glittered like chips of obsidian in his perfectly cool, handsome face. Instead of the usual molten rock they typically ran with, Daigo's irises looked closer to the black glass that remained after.

He drew in another deep breath, though this one seemed to shake toward the end. Again, his guns flashed in his sight. DOJIMA, they read. The killer. The leader. The greedy bastard who desired to lay Melissa out on this desk like she was another territory he had conquered. Another symbol of the unshakable authority he held in the land she only occasionally danced through, flitting across the border with her insufferable ( gorgeous ) smile.

"If you were one of my subordinates, I would consider killing you for this," Daigo said softly. His flat tone made the casual threat sound uncharacteristically serious. "That wouldn't work for you, however. I'll just have to find another way to reprimand you."

The yakuza leaned in to press his lips to Melissa's throat. Coarse facial hair scratched against the curve of her neck with every brush of his mouth. He moved his fingertips to the edge of her costume and gradually pushed it up. Daigo groaned.

It was invigorating to watch it all - the way that control started to slip through his hands like sand, no matter how desperately Daigo tried to cling to it. Melissa could sense it all - the increased blood pressure, the beads of sweat forming at the hairline, the clenching of the muscles (which the shirt did nothing to hide - it was almost as if his get-up, as perfectly coordinated with hers as it was, happened to be very damn near to bursting).

The Sixth Chairman was immersed in chaos - a delectable morsel of guilt, repressed resentment, self-doubt and anger with no discernible outlet at that very moment except for... The dark one haunting (and hunting) him. With every movement of the yakuza attesting to his fragile patience and the thin ice that Melissa was choosing to walk over, the noise of the laptop closing or the dangerously quiet tone of his voice only widened the grin on the demoness' lips.

"Five hours, hm? So this means..." Melissa moved over his desk, adjusting the human shaped figure to sit down now, definitely getting in the way of the chairman and his work. The brunette traded the way long and bare legs had been on display for the pitiful attempt of the kimono of covering the chest, head craning to look at a beautiful and ancient clock on the wall while snickering after doing some quick math.

"This means Singapore is closed for business when we're done. And on top of that, the lovely guy who messed up your orders was too scared of ever talking to you again, so he is not showing up tomorrow - and not confessing to his superior either about his little issue with the cargo. So this means you'll need to wait until Monday to call them during week hours, find a new brave man who can take the heat from fucking over the Tojo, even by accident, and fork over decent bribe amounts for the officers over there."

Melissa was, quite simply, lying. As powerful as demons were with their reality altering perceptions and the ability to teleport and materialize anything, there were no mind-reading powers or manipulation skills included in her gifts - and definitely none at long-distance. But Daigo was so close - so damn close - to finally letting go and yielding in defeat that the darker one needed to see him breaking. At the end of the day, it was a little game - and one the brunette would be happy to carry on by putting the pieces back in their pretty box, undoing and remaking the Sixth Chairman to her heart's content.

It was addictive, really - and Melissa thrived under the hard, dark glare of the chairman that was so reminiscent of the deep space and blackhole nothingness. There was just so much contained energy with nowhere to go and the girl-shaped creature on the desk wanted nothing more than drink it all up, soak all that frustration and anger up into the equivalent of her bones and feel Daigo coming undone inside her.

"We should get started then - you're so awfully tense you might just collapse if I don't do anything," another sigh of theatrical proportions followed, with Melissa bending forward - inch by inch, her face came closer to his, almost as if the creature needed Daigo's formidable heat for herself. A manicured finger tilted his head up, locking their gazes for good and offering the yakuza one textbook wicked smile. "Poor little Daigo, king of everything but never of himself. I shudder to think of your well-being if I wasn't around - you're so lucky I am here now."

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Twice that afternoon he had swept everything off of his massive wooden desk in a fit — and following both times stood with his hands over his face, chiding himself for a temper that he never really thought gone. Try as they and he might have once to stamp it out, his anger was there.

The Sixth Chairman was four cups of coffee deep when the polished phone in front of him rang, bringing with its sharp sound the beginnings of a dull headache. Daigo rubbed at his temple while he answered. It was not good news, and his fingers eventually moved to one of the many pens scattered in front of him. He snapped it in half, cursed the ink that bled onto his calloused hand, and was forced to wipe the stains away on a napkin left from his untouched lunch.

Melissa's appearance did not startle the yakuza. In a way, he found it grimly hilarious that she came to him just as the phone slammed back into the receiver. It was as if his muttered obscenities had summoned her. Daigo inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. The demoness' touch across his broad shoulders drew out a low grumble. His black eyes tracked her as she walked around the room.

"Melissa" was the first word he spoke. Daigo's voice was unusually soft, almost imploring ; it was with that single, quiet utterance that he asked her to behave. The yakuza had grown accustomed to her mischief, perhaps even fond of it, but he did not have any patience left today.

( still, he could not help but glance at her legs, displayed so perfectly in that absurd get - up. )

Daigo's breath hissed out between his teeth when Melissa sat on his desk. His laptop screen blurred, and a flurry of activity came across it. An empty paper cup fell and rolled out of reach. The Sixth Chairman partially rose, forcing his chair back. For a moment, his hands were useless, grasping at the air — and then he closed the lid of his computer abruptly. Daigo pressed his knuckles to the wood next, cracking every one. He winced at the pops that issued from them, like little gunshots in the too - large space.

"All of my meetings ??" Daigo echoed. The yakuza cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and rolled his neck. Another loud noise came, and that seemed to bring him some relief.

"I probably needed those," he responded. His statement was hollow, though. "Melissa." Daigo scrubbed his hair, freeing another portion of it from the gel. With playful exasperation, he shrugged out of his black suit jacket, balled it up, and threw it next to the demoness. He was left in a scarlet shirt whose silky fabric was struggling to not stick to the muscles of his thick arms. The silver threads in his vest gleamed as he moved.

"Fifty minutes ??" the Sixth Chairman murmured. He picked up his arms and shifted them to either side of the demoness. "It would seem I have five hours now, if you cleared my calendar. Plenty of time to show you my gratitude." Daigo's voice trembled, and he resisted the urge to kiss her neck.

Instead, he looked down at her chest. In spite of the pink at the very top of his cheeks, there was no shame in his expression. He was king in this place, and that thought gave strength to the desire brimming up in him. The glint of his guns, enshrined in glass not far from them, and the sparkle of his Clan pin on the wrinkled lapel of his coat affirmed his lofty position in the world. It was nothing compared to a creature like her, of course, but Daigo suspected that Melissa was not interested in comparing their stations right now.

Those black eyes, normally tender in her presence, were hard. RESOLVED. The Sixth Chairman drug them up to meet her own. His heart roared in his ears. Daigo fancied that he saw red — red for his lust, red for his fury, he did not know, but that combination excited him.

@dojimakaichou found the demoness

It had been one of these weeks for the Tojo - not that Melissa had been into the intricacies of the Japanese underground politics for long, but it was a collateral effect when one decided to stalk and torment the man currently ruling over one of its biggest groups.

Since Monday, the sixth chairman of the clan had lacked a single moment of rest. From one of his trusted advisors having people of his family crashing heavy transport vehicles into buildings (allegedly as an accident) to sudden inspections of the authorities in certain Tojo-fronted businesses and then serious disturbances to some of the smuggling routes used for Japan, Daigo was tired.

And, as expected, he refused to take a step back and relax. Rather than diffusing tension, he made it worse by himself by smoking more, drinking coffee as if he wished to replace the blood of his veins with caffeine and slept at ungodly hours inside his own office. The yakuza barely returned home these days - and Melissa didn't know if anyone allowed inside his private chambers for meetings bought his excuses for efficiency and crisis management.

But there was one creature that did not bother with scheduling appointments or polite knocks on the door - Melissa came and went as she pleased, typically at the worst hours. Whenever the chairman stressed the most and seemed ready to burst, he just felt more delightful than ever to her senses. Daigo turned into an angry, hot and messy ball of untangled feelings and anxieties, sprinkled with self-doubt and resentment for a departed father figure. The way that man could both miss someone's presence and yet loathe the apparent need for their approval was so tasty - a beautiful contradiction.

On that Friday night, Melissa made herself visible at the end of a very tense phone call with someone abroad - Daigo's English had been improving (she kept tabs on the man, after all) but anyone could tell he was fuming with anger at the blunders of people responsible for handling some Tojo cargo in Singaporean harbors a bit more discreetly. Out of all the looks the demoness could present to her favorite victim, Melissa chose a short black kimono with red flowers decorating the sleeves and the obi around the waist, with the hair properly pinned up with a pair of chopsticks and a decorative comb on the side. The piece was a mockery of the traditional Japanese wear - evidently the type of stuff sold abroad for Halloween parties or more of bedroom wear.

But given the way she walked over to Daigo's desk to place hands over his shoulders to suggest a massage, the demoness was instead leaning into the twisted idea that many westerns had about the type of service offered at wellness and spa centers in Asia, of course. The generous neckline, the exposed legs and the way Melissa cursed the objection presented by the chairman's office chair all pointed to no honest and Christian intentions - but rather the opposite.

Sighing dramatically, the creature then moved to the desk - and suddenly the brunette's body was crushing papers, blocking Daigo's laptop and almost turning over empty cups with the way legs were crossed and the lady-shaped demon laid her head over a folded arm. Whatever focus the yakuza tried to retain was shattered and gone, not to mention a couple of the pages opened on his browser (the demoness had accidentally shut a few of them).

"Daigo-kun, I think you need a break," she declared, honey-like eyes gleaming with mischief, "Why not give me five minutes of your time - or fifty? I can just..." Melissa's free hand produced a familiar snapping sound, her preferred way of announcing a magic trick although entirely unnecessary for them to be performed, "There, I just cancelled all your meetings for the rest of the day. Go on - tell me how good I am at making your life better."

[dojimakaichou]

Daigo Dojima was a fantastic catch - powerful, ruthless when necessary, loyal to a fault and with a stubbornness to match. The demoness had been keen on breaking that last barrier - in finally getting him to cave in, indulge and surrender. And once she did, everything else came crashing in waves: he was quite literally at her feet, laying all his troubles and turmoil open and fully aware of how much it all meant.

What he got in return was a strange type of bliss - a calm to soothe frayed nerves; a way to sleep undisturbed whereas nightmares plagued him before. And while Melissa admired him in all his glory, fully suited up and ready to send men to their death if he so commanded, there was something special about him in private, kneeling before her and willingly guided by the motions of the brunette's hands.

Right then - she pulled at his hair with satisfaction, pleased at how eagerly he responded to take more of her. A scandal, really - the two of them on a balcony outside, enjoying the summer breeze of a hot night in one of the most expensive hotel rooms in all of the city - but no one could see them, or make their identities if they happened to have a potent camera or the ability to check the guest records.

Anonymous whenever they were together - it was some sort of promise of hers to him, as if Melissa needed a guarantee that Daigo would keep coming to her for more. In truth - she needed him, too; to feel the soft strands of longer hair falling in disarray around his face, to see him flushed and out of breath, to witness the chairman undone and at peace. For a dark one surviving on chaos and mayhem, it almost felt as if taking his soul bit by bit was a blessing in disguise.

★. ―

Daigo pulled away the edges of Melissa's gown, grateful for the manicured fingertips that quickly captured the fabric and pinned it all between the demoness' hips and the railing behind her. He groaned at the sight of her panties. The undergarment was made of fine black lace, and he could see how crumpled it was from the moisture built up there. Usually, he would slip them off of her, kissing her legs as he went — but, tonight, there was no time for such pleasantries. Something desperate was clawing away at his insides, demanding that he sacrifice the last of his infamous will for her ( hopeful ) pleasure.

Calloused fingers snapped the panties. Melissa murmured appreciatively, eyes glimmering in the evening light, and wove a hand into his hair. Her other gripped the railing tightly as she spread her trembling thighs for him. Daigo's breath was hot on her cold flesh.

Melissa used the hold in the yakuza's inky locks to steer him closer, unceremoniously pressing his handsome mouth to where she needed him. His larger digits wormed behind her, grabbing excitedly at handfuls of her bum. The demoness smiled. A particularly excellent probe from his tongue drew out a surprised gasp from her. Daigo responded well to the nails that suddenly dug into his scalp, forcing him deeper still.

There, Melissa seemed to say.

She lifted her foot and pushed the toe of her wicked heels into the notable bulge in his now - ruined dress pants. Melissa didn't need to look — she knew, just as she could see how he tensed and the shape of his lips when he issued a muffled yelp into her folds. The abrupt scrape of his facial hair against her felt so good that she rewarded him by carefully massaging his evident erection with her ( thankfully ) soft footwear.

"If you come, darling, I'll never let you taste it again," Melissa crooned, voice surprisingly stable in spite of her shaking breath. She scratched at the back of his neck for a moment. "You will wait until I say."

Daigo whimpered, and the demoness grinned. Her head tipped back, allowing her waves to cascade out into the treacherous void merely a slip away. Melissa was sure to give her lover everything that would drive him mad : the perfect, drawn - out moans ; the almost soothing fingertips working out whatever remained of the gel in his mane ; and ample chance to squeeze her buttocks. He would almost certainly leave prints back there — which Melissa could easily make disappear, but she preferred to leave them. It was almost cute how he would sneak glances at his work when she was nude, as if he did not want to admit to being proud of how he marked her.

( Gwen also liked giggling at them. )

The Sixth Chairman of the Tojo Clan, arguably the most powerful man in Tokyo, was quite content with his present position. With any other woman, the setting would have frightened him : not only was this a scandalous scene, but the location itself was unsecure. However, Daigo did not think of gawkers or gunmen when he was with her. She overwhelmed him — and, in exchange for his submission, the yakuza trusted that Melissa would keep him safe. Melissa would pluck out his eyes herself before allowing another to touch him, Daigo used to think. Now, he was not so sure of that sentiment. Their elaborate game had taken a fond turn these last few months, and he wondered if Melissa really would ever hurt him. Her nails tucking his hair out of his sweaty face, even in the midst of him feasting on her, suggested otherwise.

All at once, Melissa orgasmed, and Daigo's mind was wiped blank. Greedily, he shoved himself in as close as he could to catch every drop. He held her lower half in place while she convulsed above him, perfect breasts swelling with each pleased yell. The taste and smell of Melissa filled Daigo's senses. Nothing else mattered to the yakuza except for this, and he ignored the pulsing ache beneath her shoe.

When Melissa finally lifted her foot, Daigo groaned and reared back. He scrambled to hold his cock through his trousers, already soaked with precum, and cursed the rush of blood that followed the removed pressure. The Sixth Chairman's eyes squeezed shut.

Daigo was dimly aware of something ( or some force, more aptly ) lifting him from the ground with the same ease that a child would pluck up their favorite doll. Melissa swatted his fingers away from his groin, whispers low and calming. Instinctually, the yakuza slumped forward — and it was then that his gaze re - opened. It took a moment for him to realize that Melissa had repositioned them. She looked back over her shoulder at him and rubbed her bare bum on his exposed erection teasingly. In spite of her devilish smirk, Melissa held fast onto the railing.

Oh, she knew what such a view did to him. The way he moved to claim her, teeth biting into his lip, assured her that the yakuza was not going to waste even a second. His thrusts into her deliciously sensitive core were rough and needy. Melissa sighed out into the night at the feeling of his nails seeking a hold in her skin. She would be littered with the signs of their coupling by the time the sun rose, but there was something very alluring about the small acts of violence that accompanied sex with him.

"Isn't that nice ??" Melissa managed, allowing her body to move with him.

Daigo's reply was indistinguishable from the low, guttural sounds that he always made when he was so close. The wet, slapping noise of him taking her with a newfound fire, over and over and over, rolled into his ears with her honey voice.

"Melissa," he hissed, sucking in air to manage the call of her name.

The demoness laughed breathlessly. "I haven't given you my permission yet, have I ??" she said, perfectly echoing his question. "Very well, Daigo - kun. Go on."

[dojimakaichou]

It had taken the demoness a literal week of studying her latest obsession - how could a mere mortal not want anything of her? The idea of someone just appreciating her for the creature she was - rather than the gifts available - was, simply put, uncharted territory. Melissa was used to humans either fearing her or greedily taking everything there was to be claimed with the powers of a darker being like herself.

But a man, at the head of the country's most powerful organization of the underworld, did not want to be richer or feared. Daigo had said it time and time again - Melissa was fine to do as she pleased, but he wasn't going to ask anything for his benefit. Company that was not keen on giving him another bullet wound was a blessing in disguise, he argued. And despite the strange warmth it made the demon feel, Melissa wasn't satisfied with that 'no' for an answer.

But an obsession it was - and finally, after paying close attention to his routine (whether Daigo was aware or not), the she-demon had an idea. It was the weekend - and yet, the chairman had decided to go to his office (no rest for the wicked, after all). Melissa manifested out of thin air, as she preferred to do (although no longer giving the chairman the same jump scares), but dressed as a baseball player rather than in a pretty cocktail dress or see-through lingerie. For once, she had a perfectly tailored uniform on her body, the name 'Dojima' on the back as a tribute and even a cap on her head - and then Melissa reached for the chairman's hands over the desk and they were gone.

No longer at the Tojo headquarters' - instead, they were in the middle of the crowd for a baseball game. The trip there had taken less than a second, as well as the change of clothes: Daigo was dressed as another supporter like his personal mischief-maker and it wouldn't take long for him to realize that the demon's powers extended to the crowd, too - no one seemed to pay attention to him; no cameras around would focus or lock on his face.

"I got you one of these!" Melissa laughed, placing a cap over Daigo's hair (magically soft to the touch again as if he had just showered, rather than slicked back), "Now you look like the part."

★. ―

Daigo had just started reading over the latest financial report from the Majima Family ( which included, as usual, messy sketches alongside half - thought numbers ) when Melissa appeared. Though he was no longer a stranger to the demoness' surprise visits, Daigo would always be startled by them. He stood up, chair screeching back from the force, and opened his mouth.

— but then, she took his hand, and the world melted away.

It was the noise of the crowd that struck Daigo first — followed by the smell of the field, the sharp press of a seat against his calves, and the almost nauseating sea of people that swam into view. Instinctively, he reached for Melissa, eager to pull her into him ; a hand came up, grasped the cap she placed on his head, and pulled it down viciously. The young Chairman took in one, two, three large breaths.

Suddenly, a loud objection came from behind them. Daigo jumped, fingers squeezing Melissa's waist. He turned with a glint of anger in his eye, still rather disoriented . . . but the demoness' nails at his cheek, pressing lightly into the mix of pale skin and stubble there, stopped him.

"We are blocking their view," Melissa explained softly, unable to help her amused smile. Slowly, she drew Daigo into their open seats. The hard surface coupled with the captivating creature's honey - hued irises seemed to soothe him. Melissa reached up and fixed his cap. She tucked a few loose strands behind his ear as the yakuza finally looked around.

Daigo gradually realized two things : firstly, that the two of them had been magically transported to the baseball game that was presently being taped back at his home, and, secondly, that not a soul seemed to recognize him for who he was. He did exist, as the disgruntled remark from moments prior told him, but no one had said his name or attempted to hit either of them yet.

Melissa's grin widened as she watched him figure out her gift. Her palm pressed to his pleasantly firm chest through the novelty jersey he wore and patted it. "There you go, darling," she teased. "How does it feel to be anonymous, Dojima - kaichou ??"

The yakuza's dark gaze, widened with his shock, stared at her. A wild storm of emotions overtook his handsome face. It was only broken when he abruptly pulled Melissa in for a kiss that made their neighbors whisper disapprovingly. Daigo barely noticed that his cap was knocked off ; luckily, Melissa's influence guided it into his lap. She stretched her arms behind his neck and ran her hand through his messy locks while they shared their most passionate singular embrace to date — and initiated by him, Melissa thought with no small amount of pleasure.

His cheeks were flushed red when they finished, but the demoness took note of the way that Daigo continued to hold her. Melissa's slender body was nearly atop his thighs, and his strong frame refused to let her go.

( of course, she could very easily slip out of this if she desired. )

"Thank you," he murmured, voice unusually hoarse. Daigo pressed his forehead to the demoness'. "How much of my soul did this cost me, hm ??"

Melissa chuckled. Her fingertips snuck up and scratched at his facial hair. The way his breath caught when she did that made her sigh inside. "This was free," she answered, carrying on their favorite joke. " — but, from now on, I will refuse any further gratitude that does not come as a kiss like that."

[dojimakaichou]

the hour before a party starts (verse of your choosing!)

★. ―

They were all spread around the courtyard, busying themselves with the hobbies ( or co - conspirators among their siblings ) that amused them most. The girls clung fast to their older sister, Yayoi, who insisted on having a playful magic duel with her brother Edgar. Osamu was attempting to read at a small table, though his broad grin suggested that his attention was not entirely on the scroll laid out before him. Somehow, Hikari had procured tea and sweets. She was desperately attempting to force the eldest prince, Kazuya, to eat something ; as she said, he was far too ghost - like and skinny to impress any potential suitors at her lavish birthday party today. Kazuya, eager to become one with the stone wall behind him, looked away sheepishly.

Melissa smiled at the lot of them. Fine, strong children — and each obviously only half - human. On some, their father's draconic characteristics were more prevalent ( his sons, in particular, seemed to have larger teeth and fiercer appetites than their sisters ), but no one could doubt the unusual lineage of any of the princes and princesses of Solaris. With gleaming horns, bright eyes, and an incredible, captivating grace, there was no mistaking that the royal brood shared his blood.

He, the beast of innumerable names and years. The very same that now roared overhead, a mass of purple that briefly swallowed up the sun. Before Melissa could truly react, a plume of smoke crashed down around her, obscuring her vision. In the midst of it, something materialized, abruptly pulled from the sky ; a body, unnaturally warm and heavy, started to form in the space directly in front of her. Melissa allowed herself to be pulled into it. She trusted her almost second senses, gifted to her in the time she had shared with him. This was not a danger — merely her husband's solution to quickly shove his titanic self into a shape that could hold her and fit within this space.

Melissa instinctively nestled into what she thought was his chest and closed her eyes. Gradually, the muscle beneath her hands firmed. Breath filled this husk, gave it life, and snarled hair fell around its shoulders. It tickled the Queen's cheek.

"Eraesthyr," the dragon huffed, hands coming to Melissa's back.

With a light hum, her lashes fluttered open and she leaned her head away to look at him. The floating half - halo of raw amethyst hovering near his brow sparkled in the daylight. He gazed at her unblinkingly, reptilian eyes burning with a fire that would never be satisfied. Patches of coarse scales pooled at his throat and flowed along his shoulders. His natural aura — so full of potent spellcraft and old, old ferocity disguised as wisdom — swiftly covered the Queen. However, she was no afraid of it. Her husband's air was soothing to her, like to the tight embrace he bound her in.

"My love," Melissa murmured. "You could have flown longer, Daigo. The children are leaving to be dressed shortly, but our fittings are not for another hour."

With a rattling sigh, her beloved dragon kissed her forehead, mindful not to shift the crown braided into her hair. "I missed you," he confessed in a harsh whisper.

Melissa's heart swelled at that. She reached up and placed a palm to his cheek. Daigo nuzzled into it at once, inhaling her sweet scent greedily. His lips parted, allowing him to take in more of it, and a forked tongue grazed along the skin of her hand. Melissa curled her fingers, which allowed her nails to scratch slowly at the scales near his elongated ears. He had come before their family was swallowed up by the celebration simply to bask in her presence.

Twenty years ago, Melissa walked into his lair to offer herself as his bride ; even after all of this time, he still coveted her attention. It could perhaps be argued that his reliance on her grew greater every decade.

The Queen of Solaris turned her head to glance at their hatchlings, as he affectionately called them. "I believe I heard Lady Azumi call for you," she said brightly, voice pleasant but commanding. "Do behave, the lot of you. I have given her full permission to wrap you in the extra silk from your clothes and throw you into the lake if you do not."

Her fond teasing earned the senior royal a mix of laughter and grumbling. Their precious triplets giggled and scurried out first, murmuring in excitement about their new dresses. The rest followed at a leisurely pace. Kazuya mouthed his thanks as he went.

Melissa turned her honey - hued eyes back to her husband. "There," she said softly. "It is you and me, Daigo, and that is all."

The dragon growled out his gratitude, great frame seeming to sink for a moment. "Lay in the grass with me, treasure," he replied, voice heavy with his desire to have her for as long as he could. He drew her fingers to his bare sides. "Do not stop touching me."

Melissa pressed a fleeting kiss to the edge of his jaw, lips brushing over his scales. "Never," she breathed.

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo did not know what was happening inside of the lamia, buried deep beneath those night - touched scales, but he was aware superficially of the way that Melissa changed above him. As he pushed himself up desperately, hoping to fulfill his promise to meet her demand, the killer thought that his unexpected partner was growing more confident — and it was a fine, fine look for her.

Suddenly, the lamia's weight pushed him down, acting against his latest thrust. Daigo gasped, head tipping back. That he could scarcely move should have alarmed him, but he only found a grim joy in it. Was this the end, then ?? his burning mind wondered. It certainly felt like it, given how tired he was becoming. Were he in a more fit state, perhaps Daigo would have been upset ( even with his vow of sacrifice earlier, he hated to leave her alone ). As he was, though, trapped in Melissa's coils and deliriously pleased to be her captive, Daigo did not have any spare energy to divert to matters outside of kissing and gripping onto her.

His nails dug into her flesh, scratched harmlessly atop her scales, and sank into the bedcovers as Daigo grew closer. It was incredible how far he had held out already, as he was notorious for coming almost embarrassingly early usually — and, yet, he continued on. He fancied that the lamia was prepping him for a great and ritualistic death, one that demanded everything the killer could possibly produce. Surely, there was ancient stone under them and an enchanting twilight above. Through the haze over his eyes, Daigo saw a dark halo form around the divine creature's head ; he admired the way its cold and unique shape emphasized her reptilian gaze.

You deserve this, he wanted to say. All that poured out of him, however, was another moan. Then, Daigo came. His low sound swelled and grew into a scream. The killer's eyes flew open. Shaking hands quickly grabbed for the lamia's hips, pitifully pressing the beginning of her tail down. In some curious way that Daigo couldn't understand, he knew this was for her. It belonged to her.

After what seemed like an endless release ( in which the killer was sure the strange vision he saw of the creature grew brighter, with an unfeeling and cool light that threatened to engulf them both ), Daigo's head slumped back into the pillow. He did not know if he was alive or dead. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around Melissa loosely, clasping her torso to his. Everything hurt — but in that pain there was also a pleasure that Daigo had never come close to before. Was this the fires of his dark father, then, eating away at him ?? Had that been what he saw ??

With his eyes closed, Daigo fully surrendered to the bed. His heart continued to pound in his chest, egged on by the lamia's smooth skin. "You should be worshipped every day," he murmured. "Every day. I . . . would."

The last few words that the killer said scarcely crossed his lips. His face slumped toward his shoulder, and the embrace over Melissa went completely slack. As the man's heart suggested, he was merely overstimulated and exhausted. On the pillow, the little snake in his ear glimmered.

That was different from everything else she had ever experienced; or rather, Daigo was an unique event in Melissa's existence, and the single pleasing one since the girl had been cursed. Sex between a man and a woman was not something the lamia had been a stranger to (and arguably, that had been the downfall of her human self, dead and buried to society), but it was a novelty in that form. From a pale reproduction of the person she once used to be to the fearsome, lethal serpent of black and gold she could morph into now, the concerns of taking Daigo intimately somewhere in-between seemed unfounded.

It simply felt amazing; with every single thrust inside her body, Melissa was filled with a vigor that had been absent for the past few years. It was more than just being fed - perhaps the more apt description was how her very soul appeared to be nourished. The act in itself, with Daigo's deep voice coming out in grunts and moans and the desperate look of bottomless black eyes struck something deep within her heart.

A heart - something so painfully human, and yet brought to life in a monster. Daigo's kindness, that unexpected devotion and the selfless sacrifice he offered like a worshipper to an ancient god felt holy and profane, and the lamia was unsure she deserved it all. The snake-woman had crossed a line and received punishment for it - an unfair one, perhaps, but Melissa was not innocent from the past affair with a married man of political preeminence. The child proving that union had been lost alongside humanity and the ability to ever produce an heir, but all these things seemed to be tiny details in the face of the bliss washing over the creature.

The touches over scales did not make her evade his grasp. The assassin had managed to convince his captor through undeniable proof that he would rather die than bring her harm, and Melissa responded to that by embracing the man in a way that would have meant definite death to others. The tail moved around them to pin Daigo further, the riding over his body more intense and in tandem with the rhythm he was able to provide. More and more, it was as if the human part of the lamia wanted to squeeze him like a boa constricting prey, tightening around the erection going in and out almost viciously.

Melissa did not know what caused it - the monster had been even unaware she could take lovers in that shape. But it felt natural - as if she needed every single drop of Daigo's essence just as much as the sweet blood of his veins, milking him of all life and stealing it for herself. The lamia was, however, aware of his vitals - painstakingly so. Almost as if, through that act, the assassin had turned into an extension of the reptilian creature claiming him, absorbed little by little as snakes did with larger prey in the wild.

Both hands came to find support beside Daigo's head - and the woman seemed to be possessed for a while, moving atop her victim with such determination that the man hardly needed to move a muscle to meet her entrance. Melissa hissed, eyes shut while the pelvis contracted constantly around his erection: the man was irrevocably trapped, pressured and so mercilessly teased that one as hard as he had been before surely would have no way out.

And ultimately that was precisely the goal - even if Melissa was wholly ignorant of the rules in relation to the species she now belonged to, her body was designed to accommodate sexual activity because that was one of the two ways for the lamias to feed. At some basic, instinctual level, the altered cells combining the human and the serpent characteristics knew that Daigo's orgasm was precious - more than his blood and the lovely compliments. They translated his energy, the life he willingly gifted her with.

And insistence yielded results - the man's release into her own body had Melissa moaning as if suddenly experiencing rapture. It was not her own spiral into pleasure being triggered by his, but something equally amazing: that energy he deposited into her - his seed, his own desire and need - were like the ambrosia of the goods. Melissa couldn't stop riding him until Daigo was completely spent, the movements dominated by animalistic drive only until it all quieted down and the monster realized that, once it was over, her female torso had collapsed atop of his and the lamia breathed heavily as if a great marathon had been completed.

It took Melissa a few moments listening to Daigo's heartbeat below his flesh for the serpent-like monster to realize a couple of things: mostly that her hunger had disappeared completely in a way that never happened before, regardless of how much meat had been devoured previously; and that, surprisingly, the assassin had survived it all (as the rapid but stubborn organ pulsing under his ribcage indicated).

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo whimpered into the kiss Melissa gave him. Her simple Good echoed through his head, announcing the start of a new chapter in their ( lovemaking ?? ) this evening. The killer answered her embrace eagerly, fingers curling into her side.

Melissa's scaled lower body pushed Daigo's hand away from her entrance. He complied with the silent order and moved his touch to her shoulders and neck. At the first sensation of his cock meeting Melissa's entrance, the man groaned, long and low. Somehow, his heart beat faster, roaring in his ears and echoing the desperate passion that filled him. Daigo did not have enough awareness to marvel at how well they fit or puzzle over the unspoken questions concerning Melissa's anatomy that they both possessed — all he had was the feeling of it.

Daigo inhaled noisily, drawing air from around their lips and into his chest. She was tight, almost horribly so, but the killer didn't ask her to stop. There was something . . . incredible about it. Daigo tipped his chin up, which further forced his lips against the lamia's. Perhaps, this was his way of asking her to continue feasting on him.

The moment that Daigo's erection became completely taken, up to the hilt, two large black spots danced in front of the man's vision. Finally, he broke their embrace. He gulped in a few breaths of much - needed air. Daigo's hair stuck to his sweat - covered skin where the two met, and his earrings stabbed at his neck. His chest rose and fell irregularly, illustrating the mix of delight and anxiety swirling around in his mind. For the first time in his life, the killer was afraid — afraid of dying before she was satisfied, afraid of blacking out, afraid of leaving this horrible life with so many unsaid compliments on his tongue.

Daigo jerked his hips forward, experimenting with pushing himself as close to her ( and in as deeply ) as he could. His nails dug into Melissa's flesh, seeking any anchor for the indescribable pleasure that came over him. Daigo had bedded several partners in his life prior to the lamia, with differing backgrounds and bodies, but he had never experienced anything like this.

Don't hold back, Daigo, she said. Whimpering, he attempted to meet her demand, sliding his erection out just far enough to satisfy both of them. His vocalizations grew louder and more guttural as he plunged back in. Black eyes, wide and wild, stared up at Melissa from Daigo's feverish face. Again and again, he thrust into her, hands seeking whatever they could find on her enchanting figure to hold onto each time he shifted his grip. He wanted to tell her so much before he died, but nothing beyond his primal sounds of longing were able to leave his lips.

It was relief that flooded her veins instead of his blood - and what a strange, almost alien thing it was to the lamia. Over the last years, after turning and grasping the basics of the new nature and what it required of others to survive, there had been very little in the creature that would remind old friends and family of the girl they had once known. Isolation, finding humans only when it was time to feed, living in deserted homes instead of cozy apartments - it had been hard, but Melissa had resigned herself to it.

Even if the origins of the curse were not precise and if it haunted her just as much as the victims (she didn't enjoy looking at mirrors and reflections over still water and broken glass), the lamia didn't know how to do anything differently. Starving herself was not possible - Melissa had tried, but instinct won. Slowly, the monster conquered the human - and the creature had really seen these despicable men as a meal, until Daigo came along.

Now - it was strange, to feel all these emotions that were not just hunger, disgust, hatred. Melissa was praised, adored, looked at in ways she had missed so profoundly and embraced with a kindness that, for once, did not seek to disguise an attempt of causing harm. Given everything shared among them up to that moment, the lamia had been apprehensive with the offer - but the free hand on her bare torso didn't spook the snake-woman, and the killer's touch down below just made the monster sigh softly in a manner that seemed almost forgotten.

Daigo's tentative exploration had his captor panting - Melissa's movements were unnatural atop him, more fluid and creating angles that a human lover would not be able to reproduce, but it didn't make for an unpleasant match. Instead, the lamia used both hands to guide herself better, leaving the assassin with the task of investigating a part of her anatomy that had been all but ignored up to that night. The former human knew she couldn't carry children anymore - so doing anything but chewing meat and breaking bones seemed futile.

But if that was the case, why had the body stopped half-way? Why give anyone a chance to be intimately connected with a monster - and make her enjoy the process as much as the feeding? Perhaps these would have been signs that Melissa was woefully ignorant of her own new species and habits, but luckily Daigo's desires had brought it out in the open. And with his constant praise and delicate pressure of fingers inside her, it had the brunette nodding and moving to the next stage.

"Good," she uttered, and then lowered her head for a kiss: one that came without the hidden fangs to inject venom into him and which was very much a simulacrum of the gestures performed during lovemaking in the past. Melissa could now taste the killer - not his blood, arguably his best feature, but the flesh; with the maddening hunger out of the way, the smells and flavors that mixed up to individualize Daigo to her senses were delicious.

Ever so slowly, the reptilian part of the body moved - it seemed unaffected by his earlier spill, and it just gently worked to remove Daigo's hand away. Repositioning herself over him was strangely convenient with the aid of a tail - and between the movement of his own hips and legs and her own supernatural self, it was surprisingly easy to connect the man's desire to her wet core. Almost as if it was a perfect fit, on purpose - but her prey's erection slid into her as the coils rearranged to lower the lamia, allowing him to sink further without the discomfort she might otherwise have felt in such position.

As it stood - there was nothing unpleasant; Melissa gasped into their kiss, eyes closing and marveling at the sensation. Just like his own essence, that too had the lamia feeling full. Quite literally this time, but it was almost maddening - as if her lower body needed that intrusion as much as the fangs claimed skin earlier, to squeeze the life out of him in a distinct format. The lamia was panting heavily by the time it was done - and braced herself over bent elbows and the tip of her tail to help Daigo thrust inside her, seeing stars behind close eyes and a type of satisfaction that eating a human to the last of the juicy parts had failed to deliver.

"Oh my god," the creature cursed, voice colored with the wonder that Melissa so clearly experienced, "You feel amazing. I never knew..." a small, breathy chuckle followed, a forked tongue tenderly running over bruised lips with a fond caress, tentatively meeting with the one that had been artificially split as well, "Don't hold back, Daigo. I want to reward you - please."

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

It took several moments for Daigo to realize that Melissa was speaking to him. He should have been able to feel that she was done with his limb ( fed already ?? what a pity, when there was so much more coursing through his body that he had to give ), but the killer was too lost in a world of darkness and pleasure behind his eyelids to know what was happening with his physical body.

With a soft moan, he opened his eyes. Daigo's clouded gaze slowly fixed on the creature above him. This divine being, whose reptilian features only made her more appealing to him. He furrowed his brow as she stole away his hand ; though, what she showed him with it quickly erased the look of confusion on his handsome face. Daigo whimpered, trembling fingertips gently outlining her . . . vagina. He couldn't help the way his hips bucked in response, rubbing himself against her scales once more in his excitement.

The killer's stare never left Melissa's face. "If you would honor me," he murmured, wetting his lips. "I would give anything to — to be fucked by you. Melissa, you are a goddess."

Daigo's unoccupied hand rose to touch her side and the back of her shoulder. He hoped that the gesture would be soothing this time and not frightening. Slowly, the killer mapped out the structure of her genitalia. His fingers were soon wet with the evidence of the snake - woman's arousal, which encouraged Daigo to go farther. With his eyes still fixed on her, he applied light pressure at her opening and pushed in a single digit up to the knuckle.

It felt good. Warm, with the expected texture and depth. Daigo didn't dare to advance with this, mindful that he had likely taken enough liberties given his position as a prisoner ( and worshipper ). Instead, he turned his hand slightly to the side and used the pad of his thumb to seek out her clit. He rubbed careful circles into it. The faint noise produced by his tentative exploration prompted Daigo to squirm under the lamia again. Precum, which had been beading at the top of his aching erection, dribbled down the side of his cock and onto her scales. Daigo inhaled sharply at the contrast in temperature between the liquid and his flaming skin.

"I believe we're compatible," he concluded, exhaling shakily. "Very much so, Melissa."

Daigo watched her earnestly. A mix of emotions filled him : anxiety, excitement, longing. Above all, however, he felt lucky. That he, but a mere mortal, could place his hands and eyes on such a truly terrible and wondrous being as her. He had never seen anything like her, and the killer swallowed back a bit of regret at the thought that after tonight Melissa would be lost to him.

The reaction elicited from Daigo with that form of reward for his generous offer surprised Melissa - enough to have the creature reopening eyes to gaze at him and how violently he had contorted over the mattress. It was another instance of where the assassin was merely confirming his claims from earlier and, somehow, his frankness was still disarming the lamia. When the Japanese man had mentioned he would welcome her to fuck him into the grave... He had not been using it as a figure of speech.

Slowing herself for a moment - now something the monster had enough restraint to do thanks to Daigo`s delicious blood - the lamia observed him for a few more moments. The man was indeed hard; even more now, reacting to the teasing of his member by the lower body of his captor and so welcoming of every single ounce of pressure that it stunned the snake-woman. How was this possible? How was a person so genuinely turned on while being at the gates of his own death and so pleased to be smothered by an inhuman predator?

A forked tongue lapped at the punctures created by the fangs earlier, capriciously taking everything from Daigo before dislodging from his arm. The assassin seemed pretty overwhelmed by pleasure, and that instilled something within Melissa. It had been a long time since she had... A lover. The curse turned humans into food, not sexual partners; and frankly, the need to take one had not been invoked until that very moment, even if it started as more of a kindness to a self-sacrificing individual. The lamia was unsure of how it even worked - but Daigo seemed to deserve some effort from his captor.

The creature realized that, biologically speaking, it was possible - at least with the current form. Melissa was not entirely conscious if she had chosen to shift only partially or if her altered genetics favored that combination, but the scales that formed at the hip to grow into her tail and replace the legs hadn't done so to the lower body completely. The human genitals were preserved, and a free hand of the lamia travelled down to touch herself - oh. Surprisingly enough, the folds were slick as they used to be when she was fully human and turned on by another; apparently, feeding from Daigo was as enticing to the creature at it was for him.

It was all pointing towards a night of many firsts, apparently - but Melissa herself had said it: the assassin was very much her type. Perhaps it was worth a shot even if it was the last thing Daigo would experience before surrendering his vitality to the ravenous monster who crossed paths with him. With an intrigued humming sound, the lamia moved over the man - only this time, not just with the tail: the woman-shaped torso accompanied it, rearranging herself atop the chosen prey.

"Daigo," the creature murmured, waiting until he opened his eyes and they could look at each other. Melissa's serpent-like features were still there, as well as the blood drying over skin - but she was remarkedly less intimidating than before, looking almost shy while doubling the female-shaped part of the body to get closer to him. "Would you like to fuck me before you go?" the lamia asked, staying above him with the support of the coils that moved like the legs she no longer had, but also one of the arms. The other had sneakily inserted itself between them, but not without bringing one of the assassin's hand with - an exploration guided by touch, so both of them could make a decision together.

"I have never done this before - I... Never needed nor wanted to. I don't know if it's possible but..." the lamia faltered, but pressed Daigo's hand against her entrance. Despite the scales forming around the area and coming together into the sea of black and gold akin to an exotic mamba, the pussy lips, size and feel was very much human - even the evidence of arousal that had pooled there, too. "I think we're still compatible... And you look so beautiful like this," her voice turned sweeter, carrying a fondness with the usual sibilating quality. Slowly, Melissa moved above Daigo in a reversal of what he did earlier, rubbing herself against his fingers as if showing to the assassin it wasn't just a token of pity (even if it was mind-blowing that someone found her attractive in such a half-turned body), gasping lightly with the feeling it offered her.

Against all odds - it was good; similarly to how incredible his blood was on the tongue. Melissa was so dazzled by the way events had decided to go on that evening that a part of her selfishly wished for Daigo to survive the feeding, just so they could do it again.

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo accepted Kazuya carefully. He suppressed his amused smile as much as he was able. Melissa handing him the babe caused his father's expression to darken in just the way he assumed his wife hoped it would. Daigo murmured affectionate nothings as the innkeeper left. Their son fit perfectly in the crook of his bent elbow, and Daigo easily slid out a chair at the table to sit in while holding him. It was evident that Melissa's praise had not been empty : the retired hunter carried the infant very comfortably. Calloused fingertips were offered to Kazuya, who gurgled up at him. There was an excitement in his wide eyes, so dark like Daigo's own — as if to suggest that the boy, even as young as he was, enjoyed their spells together.

Satisfied that Kazuya would be entertained for now, Daigo looked back up at his parents. He tilted his head, which cast a light over the damage on his face. The crown that was still woven into his hair made sure that no stray strands covered it.

Sohei stepped forward. A hand waved for Yayoi to take a seat as well, though the silent invitation felt more like a command. Such was their relationship, and Daigo was surprised by the bit of bile that rose up in his throat. Perhaps, until falling in love with his wild wolf, he had never realized how poorly suited he would have been for a match like that. It was customary . . . but unfair.

"Your wife," Sohei finally said, forgoing his cool smile in Melissa's absence. "I would have expected unclaimed children, given that your reputation has reached home — not this."

Daigo grimaced. His thumb stroked Kazuya's little fist. "I am your only heir," he answered coldly. "Shouldn't you be pleased ?? A marriage and a healthy grandson is what you have always demanded of me."

"A sham union to a peasant does not count," Sohei countered, eyes narrowing. "I will forbid it to be on our family ledger. You will return with us, Daigo. She can keep the child until it is finished at her breast, and then we will collect it. This nonsense needs to end." The nobleman inhaled deeply. If his son was not so physically intimidating, he would have ordered him dragged back by his followers. "There are ladies who would take you . . . like that. They would not be as close to your blood as I would prefer but better than any here."

The look on Daigo's face could have curdled milk. He sat up to his full height, mindful of their babe, and glared at Sohei. Were he not in charge of Kazuya, it would not have been unreasonable to think that Daigo would have struck the elder man. Yayoi held her breath until Sohei took a single, measured step back. Perhaps, he had suddenly remembered Daigo's formidable size, which he had been attempting to respect moments before — or he felt that the many nerves he struck were enough.

"You have guessed my answer and should accept it," Daigo uttered, tearing his eye away to look at Kazuya. "I was under the impression that you came for the beast that I slayed . . . not for me."

Sohei cleared his throat. The desire to argue persisted on his tongue, practically burning it, but he swallowed back that fire for now. Daigo would not be moved with brute force or political threat ; Sohei suspected that continuing to follow either of those paths would be futile. Instead, he turned his attention to the topic that Daigo had steered them to. Away from his son's personal life.

"I was told you killed it," Sohei replied, briefly walking closer to Yayoi. "We stopped for accommodations on our journey, and there was a gentleman who informed us. Pray, tell me more." His gaze flicked over to the figure of Melissa, reappearing from the kitchen. Sohei's icy smile returned. " — unless your . . . wife has anything that she would like to say first regarding the monster or your valiant fight ?? I am sure it was the talk of the town, miss. "

Yayoi's comment surprised the werewolf - Kazuya did look more like his father at the moment, considering how dark the hair was colored and the overall shape of his visage that announced the foreign blood running in his veins. But Melissa did not know the similarities were so stark - something that filled the woman with a strange sense of pride and warmth, looking down at their child once more with affection. Kazuya would be a healthy, lovely boy - she was sure of it; it sounded like his grandmother would have adored him, perhaps if circumstances were a bit different.

But it was the retired hunter's voice that drew Melissa back to reality - his offer and the grin that followed it had his wife smiling sweetly at him, the couple ignoring the visitors for a moment. The she-wolf was grateful for his support and protection, but Melissa had learned how to defend herself - of course carving her father-in-law's heart out of his chest would cause problems, but the innkeeper wouldn't back from a fight to protect their son and Daigo, too. They meant everything to her - and the werewolf was not intimidated by the crest painted onto these carriages or displayed over flags.

"Of course, my love. He should be good for at least another hour or so," Melissa nodded, and then proceeded to carefully hand their son to Daigo. The transition was smoothly done and the child barely stirred - it was clear that the father knew how to carry his son and, more than that, Kazuya was used to being around the other parent, too. The innkeeper stood on the tip of her toes to press a kiss to her husband's face, bowing to the couple visiting them next with a smile that was evidently proud - and offering slight provocation to Sohei, as well.

"I will not be long, but Daigo is a great father. Kazuya likes being with him - I am sure he must feel safe. Well, do excuse me for a minute," the innkeeper said, but the lines on the brunette's face were softer whenever she looked at Daigo's mother. She didn't know the story there, but it was clear that she was moved by the notion of having a grandchild - as a new parent herself, Melissa tried to sympathize with the older woman, as much as her husband was a loathsome figure.

Moving into the kitchen of their own home, the woman started to go through the motions of tea almost automatically - her focus was entirely in their living room, and any whispers would be picked up by a werewolf's hearing. Melissa, of course, would pretend otherwise - but her attention never left the Dojimas while she was (supposedly) outside hearing range, just on the off-chance that Sohei had something to say about the beast not being truly gone, despite evidence pointing to the contrary.

Breathing deeply while the water boiled, the innkeeper rummaged through the cupboards for some of the leaves that Daigo had acquired from a merchant that visited their village not too long ago - they were more similar to the green tea he enjoyed, and Melissa had been saving them for a special occasion. It seemed that welcoming the Dojimas merited that label and the woman took care to try and brew it following the advice of her husband (even if the man himself had warned her that it had been ages since he cared to properly make tea as his mother had taught him to).

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo followed Melissa's direction and climbed onto the bed. He crawled back across it until his shoulders touched the pillows. From there, he sank down into the comfortable fabrics, ignoring the dust or any other evidence that this was not her resting place. Melissa's story didn't matter — only she did.

As the lamia positioned herself to feed, Daigo couldn't help but sigh softly. The little touches to his hair caused his heart to skip a beat. He resisted the urge to close his eyes. "Worthy of my admiration ??" the killer repeated, allowing his large body to relax into the furniture as if he were merely taking a nap. "Melissa, you are worthy of the admiration of every man, woman, and child on this planet." Daigo's smile came easy : he had never been so certain of something in his life.

Melissa's initial contact with his unsealed wound prompted a quiet ' ah ' to escape her prey's lips. Daigo exhaled slowly. "You were hungry," he murmured, voice eerily calm ( especially when his circumstances were considered ).

The killer's free hand, trembling from a mix of exhaustion and nervous delight, lifted from its place at his side. Gently, Daigo placed it atop one of the many coils now settled on his frame. He was truly trapped, but that did not frighten him. Rather, he welcomed it. Daigo found the weight of her transformed self to be almost comforting. His fingers stroked her tail. What a unique texture it had — smooth until he really focused on the slight grooves that announced each small scale embedded there. Glittering gold swam through his thoughts, layered over a black so beautiful that it could rival the deepest pits of hell found in the old Kamurocho alleys.

If this was truly his end, then Daigo was a lucky man. He knew his half - brothers would appreciate his chosen death. Perhaps, the killer would be able to make contact with his sister - in - law, a skilled witch from what he had been told, to tell her how pleased he was when he crossed over.

However, it seemed that the lamia was not out of surprises. A teasing brush of her scales across his erection brought Daigo crashing back to earth, to the sharp fangs fixed to his forearm, and he instinctively arched his spine. A low, long groan left him. It was an animalistic sound, brought up from his cavernous chest, and the utterance of it resembled a peal of thunder at the edge of the sky. Daigo quickly corrected his behavior and tried to force his back to the bedcovers once more. His quick breathing and lingering open mouth showed just how much Melissa's rough fondling of his cock had changed the nature of the feeding for him.

Daigo swiped his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. His fingers curled around the nearest portion of Melissa's tail, gripping it carefully but insistently. Each additional pass of her wonderful snake - skin across his sensitive member drove the killer madder. Daigo responded bluntly, hips lifting off of the covers just enough to rub himself against her scales with greater enthusiasm. The pain from his arm, as delightful as that was, ceased to exist for him. All Daigo knew was the awe he felt at the honor that Melissa had chosen to bestow on him. That he should be quite literally fucked to death by a goddess . . . he could not imagine a better ending.

As Daigo disclosed what he did for a living, the lamia's facial expression translated the surprise - an assassin? Well, that explained the marks littering his torso when one had such a dangerous profession, but Melissa strangely did not condemn him for much more. In her old life, as a regular woman going through the motions of a desk job, that could have frightened her... But now, knowing how she literally consumed her old kin as food, the brunette was painfully aware she lacked the moral high ground.

Besides, Daigo sounded so uniquely... Kind. Understanding, even, of a nature that was so vastly inhuman as he had been accustomed to such monsters. Melissa thought of his earlier words - her guest mentioned a different place of origin, perhaps of upbringing where beings such as herself would be looked at distinctively. Were there more snake-women out there? The lamia couldn't dispute that the supernatural was now real after the curse placed on her, but how much more of these myths and folklore was truth in fiction?

To hear Daigo apologizing for having disturbed her meal had the brunette looking at him with even obvious shock - all because he did mean it. Slowly, even if it was because she needed to get a better look with poor eyesight, Melissa crawled closer to where he was - that strange man seemed to be nothing but honest. The idea of building a resistance to poison would explain why the venom failed; and maybe, just maybe, she had really somehow selected a prey that happened to be of the willing kind.

Melissa was wholly confused as to what the assassin was doing for a moment - until she smelled it: blood. As reduced as one of her senses had been, others had been amplified: the creature's nose and extended touch of a prolonged body assisted with the navigation of the environment that had been reliant on eyes so much before. The sweetness of his taste came back, flooding thoughts and mouth like a phantom hunger; the lamia's body begged for more, to the point that it started to turn painful to resist.

"I... Believe you," she said at length, quiet and with eyes glued to where the fresh cut had been done, even if the fragrance helped Melissa find that gift better than anything. The gesture from Daigo, coupled with the persistent starvation, made the brunette come forward and within his reach, looking at him and then motioning for the bed just behind them both. Well - a little comfort wouldn't go amiss, she supposed. It was the first time she cared to make it enjoyable to a human scheduled to die - if he sincerely thought his executioner so fascinating, she could make sure he went out pleasurably.

Once the man had climbed the mattress (dustier than it would have been if Melissa regularly slept there, as she claimed), the lamia did the same. It was wild how fast the monster's heart was beating, still influenced by the scare from earlier and mixed with lingering caution and some sort of eagerness that had never been present before. The reptilian being needed to feed, that was certain - but she also wanted to somehow reward that bold sacrifice.

"I... Haven't fed from anyone before like this. But if you truly find me worth of your admiration, I would not oppose to being closer," the lamia explained, a hand moving to push some of his hair away and over the pillows while the tail covered Daigo leisurely. It was no longer wrapping around him like gripping vines - but instead resting over the human like a pet snake would do over the limbs of a trusted caretaker or a tree branch. It was... New and different to be touched by another when scales replaced pale skin; intimate, even.

And perhaps that was the best way to describe the way that Melissa picked up the recently cut limb to feed from - unlike the kiss that had been just a trap to drug the prey, this time the lamia gingerly raised the offered arm with care, locking the serpentine gaze with Daigo's before revealing her own fangs and biting down, tongue lapping at the blood and giving him more of it - the sharp sting of the teeth, the way the appendage collected the liquid with rapid movements and freedom for the assassin's unoccupied hand to explore the effect he caused on the monster.

Melissa's body reacted to that fresh intake instantly - she moaned audibly, closed eyes and allowed herself to focus solely on the intoxicating, marvelous taste he had to her palate. The lamia wondered if it was something to do with his immunity, the actual bloodline or something else entirely, but it made something inside the creature hurt. She didn't want him to die at her hands - but neither was the monster able to stop.

In return, the coils slithered to cover Daigo - and upon brushing his member, Melissa's lower body deliberately played with it. The lamia was not able to control movements with precision, but she could come and go over his skin with a bit of pressure, effectively allowing the man to grind against the scales if he wished. The notion that had been so alien when he first complimented her appearance (to 'fuck him into his grave', wasn't it?) was now winning the brunette over.

If he sincerely liked her that much (and Melissa definitely appreciated Daigo completely), the lamia was committed to giving him a worthy send-off. The one gentle, blissful death to the single man who treated her fairly and generously.

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

I don't know what to do. Her closing words filled his ears and made the killer feel sad. What a beautiful thing she was — and she spoke as though his kindness was rare. That was not at all how it should be. A creature like her ( and he hadn't even seen all of her yet, he assumed, given that her shock seemed to have interrupted her feeding ) should have men lined up to give her their blood. There ought to have been jars of it in here, like wine, and containers of still - warm flesh her devotees cut from their own bodies to sustain her.

"You produce that venom ??" Daigo realized softly, smile growing deeper. "It is a good one. I . . . hunt for a living, much like yourself, but my kills are not for food. I change corpses into cash. In my field, it is common for rivals to try to poison you. I have made myself immune to many deadly toxins in my life in an effort to avoid that, which is probably why your venom did not make me ill. I apologize for that ; it would appear that is what spoiled your meal. My . . . awareness."

The killer reached up slowly, swept back his hair, and pulled out one of his earrings. With the little snake held captive between his fingertips, Daigo was able to twist the hook that had previously gone through his lobe. It was not nearly as sharp as he would have liked, but there were few options available to him. If he moved, he was afraid that he would lose her — forever — and that hurt with such a ferocity that Daigo couldn't begin to understand right then.

He presented his forearm. Thanks to a bar fight a few nights ago, there was a half - healed incision carved into his limb. A bit of glue, a day of bandages, and it was already nearly mended. Daigo clenched his teeth and dug the dull point of his earring into the fresh skin. Oh, it hurt, much like the throbbing in his head, but the killer didn't utter a sound. His strength pushed the wound deeper, opening up meat that had not been exposed before. When he was through, Daigo discarded the jewelry and blew out a long breath. Blood well up from the now - mangled injury and dripped onto the floor.

"I meant everything I said, Melissa," Daigo finally managed, swallowing down the traitorous tremor in his voice. He extended his arm toward her, marveling at the shocking red color as it slid down into his flat palm. "Eat, please. Ignore everything else. I will not let you go hungry. No woman as exquisite as you are should ever be."

The matter of his attraction to her was a topic that Daigo left be for a moment, however the irrefutable proof of his desire for her continued to persist between his legs. In fact, the act of mutilating his forearm to feed her seemed to have only made his pesky erection firmer, and it took all of Daigo's nerve to ignore it, pounding like a second heart behind the wild one fluttering in his chest.

It sounded ludicrous - absurd, really, that anyone would look at the thing Melissa could turn into and find it worthy of admiration. None of the men taken to her house had behaved like that before - instead of assurances and soft touches, they had all understandably screamed and struggled (albeit pitifully once the blood was already influenced by the venom). Their bodies, as strong and able as they ordinarily were, turned to malleable clay in the lamia's hands.

But to think that her favorite catch wanted to be food was... Insane. Masochism was something Melissa understood; the scars and jewelry on him made sense, but was Daigo asking to be killed? Well, perhaps he longed to have her before being consumed by the hunger of his captor, but the monstrous one couldn't see the appeal in any of that.

Was he truly... Different? Just raised in such an eccentric way like some of the kids doing strange things online these days? Melissa had no idea of where he originated (except maybe abroad, given his looks - but his English was flawless, and it threw her off any rational path again), why he insisted on offering himself to the monster trapped with him and how it all seemed so... Sincere.

It was remarkable - Daigo had made no gestures indicating the drive to harm her. He remained naked, sitting on the floor, with nothing but his own able body as a weapon. Now, as strong as he felt when embraced (Melissa couldn't dispute such hard, cold facts), he wouldn't win in a struggle if she fully transformed. Blinking and still eyeing that evening's mark suspiciously, the lamia cursed softly that the smell of blood was so pungent - without realizing it, the brunette was licking lips and capturing whatever trickled down the torso to be cleaned next with a swirling tongue.

"You really are different, aren't you," the woman murmured almost to herself, then took a deep breath and moved forward. The creature was still shaken and cautious, that much was true - but Melissa was also hungry and he was a handsome one on the eyes and even sweeter on the tongue. The brunette desperately wanted more of that, but the alarms in her head hadn't gone quiet despite his reassurances. Instead, she slinked towards the place where Daigo was sitting.

"Earlier, when we kissed - I bit you," she said, voice quiet but seeming to lose that anxious edge from before. The creature wished to understand what was happening or perhaps convince herself that his promises would be honored, as Melissa desperately wanted, "I drugged you. The venom I injected in you should have you passing out and almost incapable of resisting me - but you're... Fine," she added, blinking curiously at him and pausing within a certain distance from the Japanese individual, but considerably closer than a moment before.

"You're also... Rock hard. I felt it. You clearly are... Attracted to me," the lamia said without the embarrassment that her old, wholly human self would have when presented with a similar scenario, frowning slightly. That was physical evidence that was difficult to refute - most of the guys lost that erection as a consequence of the blood loss or the shock of her true self (or both); but not Daigo. A soft smile appeared on Melissa's face then, completely different from the seductive grins of the fake persona earlier at the bar. There was a melancholy there, even if her visage and chest were still stained by his blood and she looked more reptilian than when their evening together began.

"It's interesting - perhaps, under different circumstances, I wouldn't have lured you like food. I would have brought you here for sex," Melissa confessed, finding it absurd that she was making conversation with prey, but apparently that was how their night was supposed to go, "You are my type, Daigo - or at least, the one I used to have before a lot happened. You have also been far kinder to me than anyone else I've taken. I..." the lamia trailed off, feeling the strangest thing twisting her insides - she was hungry, of course, not to mention still jumpy given the unexpected twists of fate. But deep down, there was also... Guilt? Perhaps uncertainty?

"I don't know what to do."

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo's eyes went wide at the sudden release of Melissa's arms and tail ( ?? ). He inhaled, instinctually filling his lungs with all of the air they had been denied for the last few minutes — only for that big breath to rush right out when he hit the floor. The killer didn't have enough time to react and attempt to brace himself, thankfully, or he may have broken something under his own weight. Daigo fell with a loud thud, much like a wet rag, onto the concrete and rugs. Melissa's venom was not to blame : instead, it was simply the blood loss and confusion that buckles his knees.

Daigo rolled onto his back and then pushed himself up into a sitting position. He forced his bent legs apart in an effort to relieve some of the tension there and bowed his head for a moment, fingers gripping at his new sore spot beneath his hair. Blinking, he tried to clear the haze over his thoughts.

A monster ?? At that, Daigo looked up. The little snakes at his ears caught the light. Melissa's tone suggested to him that she uttered the label in disgust, as if it were wrong. It occurred to Daigo then that perhaps this creature, worthy of quite literal worship by all of mankind, was afraid. Lonely. He had heard of oddities who were outsiders — like his cousin. They were not raised in the same way that he had been.

To an Addams, monstrous was a compliment. Taking blood from your lover was seen as an intimate and well - respected normalcy. There was no crime or moral fault to be found from pairings that involved humans and inhumans ( those were encouraged, even ).

. . . but maybe he was thinking about this the wrong way. Daigo removed his hand from his hair and set it against his thigh with its fellow. In his world, Melissa was incredible, but it seemed that in hers the perception was vastly different.

"You're correct, Melissa," he said quietly, voice eerily calm. "You were luring me — I assume because you were hungry — and I followed like a fly chasing a spider into its web. I did so willingly."

Daigo cleared his throat and raised his hands, palms out. "I want nothing from you. I am simply . . . interested in giving you what you need." He cursed the blush on his face silently. "Where I come from, you are indeed beautiful. In my nightmares, I have never imagined any woman as . . . " The killer exhaled slowly, unable to help a slightly embarrassed smile. Of the three Addams boys, he was decidedly the worst with verbal expression. "I am food, lowly food, but I would enjoy if you fucked me. Exactly as you are, or whatever form you may desire to take."

It was the touch to her face that finally did it - Melissa realized then that her prey was decidedly not as weak and incapacitated as it should have been. If Daigo was able to move his limbs that freely, then surely he was immune or had the strangest collateral effect to the venom and the gentle squeezing of the tail. And not just that - his rigid member was now very clearly ready for action rather than growing flaccid, and the man's words spoke of a secret that had been clearly kept locked away.

Melissa had fought hard to remain human-like - it wasn't a strange shape and the only one she possessed for a few decades until the curse, but now it felt unnatural. Restrictive even, like she was larger than the bones and stronger than the muscle it offered - but the lamia was not prepared to be looked at in that way by someone who was keenly aware of her inhuman status. That man - that polite, charming guy - was making the creature afraid.

As much as she wished to believe Daigo and take his claims at face value - Melissa couldn't; not with everything the lamia had lived through thus far.

A scream left her lips when the man's hand touched her scales again - the painful reminder of the truth and one that had the creature unfurling herself, releasing the human and immediately moving backwards, away from his reach and scrambling over furniture that was suddenly burdensome. Melissa was panting, the little energy restored with the blood now back into her body as adrenaline made her on the edge and so scared that the tumbles had turned - the locked basement was a prison for the snake-woman now; how could she get to the door with him in the way?

"I am a monster!" came the cry from the furthest corner of the room, Melissa acting not unlike her animal self when threatened - the tail rearranged itself almost out of instinct, allowing her to remain coiled and observe Daigo with growing disquiet, almost as if ready to pounce at him and throw the guy off his feet (again) in a last attempt to flee, "I was luring you, like food - who in their right minds would think that is desirable? Or that I'm beautiful?"

Despite never growing in volume, Melissa's voice started to turn harder to understand - the soft sibilant quality to it intensified, the eyes slowly shifted to a pair of slit pupils and the tongue within her mouth would be forked if they kissed once more. The predador felt like prey, after all these years hunting among her old kind; it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling and the lamia was evidently unused to that dynamic. "What do you want from me? Tell me the truth!"

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Scales. Daigo gasped with pleasure into Melissa's mouth. His heartbeat roared in his own ears, intensified by the blood pouring over his lip. The taste of copper covered his tongue, and he could feel the scarlet dripping down onto his bare front.

Sluggish fingertips brushed along her flank, savoring the smooth texture of her body — her real body. Daigo could not see the coloration of her given how fiercely Melissa gripped him, but he imagined that it was beautiful. The little clues about her that he had failed to take into consideration earlier came back, each a piece to a puzzle whose image remained a mystery.

By the time Melissa separated them, Daigo was fully hard. He instinctively looked to her. Those black eyes, gleaming with an almost drunken desire, implored her to continue. His unconfined hand reached up, allowing surprisingly steady fingertips to brush her cheek. The twist of his torso to accommodate this motion caused Daigo's erection to rub against her flesh ( human ?? reptile ?? fish ?? it didn't matter ), and he groaned softly.

"I am more than fine," Daigo answered, clearing his throat. Pieces of dark hair clung to the side of his face and neck, stuck there with sweat. "You are . . . hungry. Eat, Melissa. If it should also agree with you to fuck me atop my grave, I would be — ah — eternally grateful. I've never seen another like you ; Melissa, you are beautiful." The significant emphasis placed on his last word suggested that he did not mean it idly.

Daigo thought her beautiful with a sense of reverence. It was the same way he felt when he watched a storm during the night or held a cleaned skull in his hands. This was lasting, real, and very raw beauty, coupled with the sort of admiration the great philosophers of the Old Ones used when they spoke of those horrifying and nameless entities.

Oh - so Daigo did enjoy pain. Normally, the lamia wouldn't care about the feelings of her food in relation to their treatment, but the Japanese man had been such a darling during all their time together that she didn't mind giving him something nice in return. He would perish soon - if Melissa could give him a pleasurable ending, she wasn't opposed to it.

His desire and response to the violence amidst the kissing were noted - in fact, it had something unusual swelling inside the woman - pride, perhaps? It was hard to feel like she had accomplished anything when most of those brought home were loathsome types at best, but Daigo reminded her of a different time. If things had taken less horrific turns, Melissa would perhaps have dated him properly. Taken him to a room for other purposes than a meal, held him for lovemaking instead of bone-crushing, sunk her teeth into his flesh just to appeal to a possessive instinct rather than to deprive another of consciousness.

The creature did not talk back - the sounds from Melissa were whimpers and murmurs, evidently too pleased with the crimson liquid flooding the kiss. Her arms kept their grip around Daigo even if he was a large fellow and definitely not one she would be able to hold when he fainted - so, in anticipation of that, the lamia started to shift and transform. Slowly to the average human and one with senses already dulled by the venom - but from the ground up, the feminine form gradually phased into something else, rearranging matter into another shape.

And that was the tail of a serpent - strong to coil around the pair, working to envelop Daigo in a similar fashion to the feminine arms that still enlaced him above. The tail was dark in the dimly lit room, but there were gold tinges in the patterned skin that made its way up, circling them in a slow dance. The overall feeling wasn't unpleasant - it was smooth and plain despite the scales, silently helping Melissa to completely squeeze and hold the human until he was unable to fight back and the monstrous self could tear bone from meat.

The lamia finally broke free of the kiss - Melissa yanked her head back, breathing in deeply and just enjoying the taste that lingered on her tongue. Blood trickled down her chin and over the pale (human) body, making the creature pause for a moment. Why did he taste so good? The brunette had been hungry, true, but Daigo was... Unique. No human she had devoured before had offered blood that was so sweet and addictive, like the finest wine imported from an European chateau instead of the cheap stuff you could acquire in any bodega.

When Melissa opened her eyes next, however, Daigo looked right at her, with a content expression and very much awake. The lamia blinked, then sensed his erection pressing against her own lower body that had not yet converted to a serpentine shape. How did he manage to still be hard in such a state? The amount of venom in his bloodstream should have been enough to make him a more flexible and pliable body, but instead...

"Daigo?" she inquired in the same whispered tone from earlier, even if Melissa looked comparatively less human with the crimson stains over her naked frame and a slightly alarmed look that, ironically, had nothing to do with the blood on her flesh, "Are you... Fine?" the question came at long last, and a strange one for that moment. It halted the transformation and her tail stopped around his knees, but the lamia refused to let go of her prey.

It was the world's most unexpected interruption - for a moment, in that basement turned into a killing chamber, Melissa was simply confused. How did a bitten and trapped prey managed to avoid the usual side effects of the venom? Why wasn't he freaking out and trying to break free of that prison?

Who was that man?

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo swallowed back a groan as Melissa rubbed herself shamelessly against his front, encouraging his stiffening cock between them. He was more than happy to answer her request. Large hands unclasped her bra with an admirable amount of skill and quickly moved it off of her. The killer next hooked his thumbs around the band of her underwear, wriggling the piece free. Were Melissa less occupied with exploring his mouth, Daigo would have moved to his knees to finish undressing her ; he longed to press his lips to her thighs and take in the sight of her from below.

All of the sudden, though, Daigo's thoughts were stolen by the lamia's fierce bite. He opened his mouth against her own with a loud gasp — but that startled sound quickly became one of pleasure. Blood welled up, pooling onto his tongue, and Daigo whimpered softly at the feeling of his skin breaking beneath her ( sharp teeth ?? ). Without a moment of hesitation, he splayed his fingers out across her back and pressed her into him. Let her feel what she was doing to him and how well he had responded to her bold act.

"Melissa," he murmured — again and again, calling to her in the midst of his shortened breaths. The killer didn't even know if that was her real name, given the location where they met earlier, but he hoped it was. It suited her, and he was spellbound by the sounds of it.

In the midst of their frenzied embrace, Daigo began to realize that the tingling spreading across his body was not only from his own excitement. There was more to it : a foreign substance in his veins that had not been there before Melissa bit him. At that, he moaned quietly, encouraged in their love - making by the evidence that suggested his partner was inhuman.

Unfortunately for the lamia, her venom was too much like some of the other great snakes of the world. Daigo had built up an impressive immunity to the most deadly creatures, plants, and chemical combinations known to mankind. This was not just to ensure his safety in his chosen occupation ; much of his early experimentation to achieve these precious resistances had simply come from fun.

Melissa's powerful liquid weapon should have made the assassin pliable and weak. However, it did little to Daigo ( outside of unleashing a wave of warmth across his flesh and bringing a flush to his pale cheeks ). The killer was aware that it was there, pounding through to his poor black heart, but it did not alarm him. He was, instead, grateful to be a part of this experience. Whatever creature Melissa was, she was obviously in need of something. Daigo would be honored to give it to her.

An eyebrow arched delicately when Daigo not only followed every single command issued to him, but also stepped closer with an eagerness to please that made him absolutely adorable. In another time, perhaps, Melissa would have invited the man home for something less deadly (for him); he sounded sincerely enchanted by their conversation at the bar, and now his stunning body displayed all the right signs of physical desire and need.

The lamia felt flattered - food didn't normally appealed to her ego in such a way. Honestly, depending on the alcohol intake of the other victims, either they started to realize they were in trouble or just acted without any shred of constraint, treating Melissa like they probably did with most women. It was with vicious delight that she bit into their skin and tore their bodies apart later - it was nourishment for her monstrous self and the soul, too (if she still had one following the curse).

Daigo, however, was different - and that earned him none of the terror that Melissa sometimes created when her marks were dutifully trapped. Instead, the creature continued to smile appreciatively at him and enjoyed the unusual signs about his appearance. A low chuckle was caused when the snake-woman noticed the earrings which had been hidden by the hair, but her right hand tentatively ran over the chest and the scars found there, humming when his body heat started to transfer to her own palm. Oh, he was nice - like a portable heater; if anything, the notion of having Daigo spiraled her hunger even more out of control, making the lamia sigh adoringly and pressing herself against him.

"Aren't you a gentleman?" the monster murmured, placing outstretched arms over broad shoulders as if they were meant to engage in slow dancing - in reality, that was just the beginning of his last embrace. Melissa closed in, flush against his lower body and where the bulge of his excitation was growing to further tease him, canting head to look at Daigo under the dim lights above the two of them, "Why don't you even the playing field for us? Undress me, Daigo," she commanded - even if the voice was soft, whispered like wind rustling through trees, "I would like to kiss you now."

The comment was usually not necessary - very few men resisted the idea of locking lips with her if they had made it that far; but Melissa was being gentle to the loveliest prey she had since turning. Daigo hands added pleasing warmth to the skin while they unclasped the bra and rolled her underwear down, but the lamia was occupied with something else - his tongue.

The kissing was not just to taste him - it was also how she started drugging prey, injecting venom into their blood and making them unable to fight back. In human form, it was the easiest way to begin transition to her other shapes, and light stings during passionate kissing were often acknowledge as normal. In truth, Melissa's fangs grew just enough to start the process, but a first surprise awaited her with his own modified tongue - forked at the tip, similar to her own in another body.

Damn - she couldn't wait to have him whole.

Melissa made a quick decision then - his physique, the altered appendage, the earrings: something told her that the man enjoyed pain so she went for it, biting rather fiercely in the middle of their kissing and suddenly locking the male in her arms with a strength that was surprising to one so fragile-looking. It was not yet inhuman - but the brunette coiled around him after undressed, as if Melissa's limbs were anticipating the next main act of her performance and her mouth attempted to devour him already.

And she wasn't wrong - he tasted divine. The drink from earlier, the nicotine and his own essence were all addictive, particularly when skin broke before the fangs and blood filled that encounter. Melissa moaned then - obscenely even, savoring Daigo like the world's most tantalizing dessert. Where had he been during all this time? Compared to the mysterious dark-haired stranger she preyed on, her prior catches had been dull sustenance at best.

Daigo was a fucking banquet.

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

A normal man would have been more fearful of the brunette's living arrangements ( or how readily she had excuses for how ruined it was ) — but Daigo was an ADDAMS. Melissa's choice of neighborhood prompted the killer to murmur appreciatively. At each example of the devastation brought on years before by an unfathomable amount of wind and water, his eyes grew wider, drinking in the sight of it as if he were a tourist visiting the most memorable attractions that the city had to offer.

As they walked, Daigo kept Melissa in the corner of his eye. What a vision she was, like the tantalizing figures straight out of his nightmares. Her perfect hair, those mesmerizing irises, and the mystery that surrounded her had captured Daigo long before she asked if he wanted to return to her place. The professional assassin couldn't help but notice the way the moon shone over her waves of chestnut brown and gently kissed her flawless, pale skin. Melissa's beauty was cool and carried a sort of timeless quality that Daigo found very pleasing to study.

( There was something else he couldn't place a finger on. Little oddities : in the way she spoke, in the way she moved, in the ways she seemed to react to their environment. Perhaps, were he of sounder mind, Daigo would have been able to study these aspects of her closer — but he was frankly far too smitten to dig deeper right now. It did not help that he had been enjoying a strong drink when she approached him at the bar. )

Daigo did as Melissa asked, audibly and silently, every step of the way. His coarse fingertips found the zipper in her dress with surprising ease, and the killer's calm, even steps moved down the steps to the basement room with no hesitation.

Inside of the door, he began to undress, as well. The purple collared shirt he wore landed on the floor in a ball. His black trousers soon accompanied it, as did his underwear. It was evident what they were there for. In Japan, he would not have been so eager and remained guarded until his partner was in less of a powerful position ; across the sea, however, he did not feel the need to worry as much. Besides, he was not holding on to any territory here. If anyone did try to kill or maim him during love - making, they stood to gain nothing beyond the blood on their hands — and that Daigo would certainly not deny the thrill of to anyone.

The killer cleared his throat and tucked his hair back. For the first time, his earrings were revealed : little delicate silver snakes with red eyes and tongues. Daigo dropped his hands to his sides next. He smiled at Melissa, showing the edges of his teeth, and walked toward her. It was evident that their flirting at the bar had already piqued Daigo's physical interest.

"Cozier ??" he questioned, deep voice soft to match her tone. A bit of pink came to the top of his cheeks, but Daigo managed to keep his composure. He stopped immediately in front of her, a solid wall of well - maintained muscle decorated with several different types of scars. Some were neat, almost surgical, while others looked like they had spawned from wounds no man should have ever survived. Daigo's black eyes, full of nothing but pure admiration for her, gazed down at Melissa.

"You are all I need," Daigo replied, tentatively placing a hand on her waist. "The room doesn't matter."

@dojimakaichou found the serpent

All signs pointed towards something dangerous - the fact that a woman was willing to take a stranger back to her home after a first meeting; that she lived in a place so deserted and without a single light in the buildings that were around (the ones that still stood, that was); and more importantly, the way said female seemed to walk in a particular way rather than favoring straight lines - akin to a serpent undulating over the sand, Melissa did not walk like humans did.

Well - not anymore.

Opening the door to her home, the brunette ushered in her mark - a fine man named Daigo; they had met at a bar closer to downtown, one frequented by the type of men that wouldn't raise too much attention if they turned to be missing a couple days later. The unsavory and the criminals, the grifters and the predators - Melissa enjoyed these little holes in the wall for the wide range of prey they offered.

Men who wouldn't be mourned - food that she so desperately craved.

For once, Daigo had seemed nicer than most - polite, well-spoken and so mannered while interacting with her that the lamia almost forgot why she had been visiting the place. He had a warm gaze and a grin on his face that reminded the brunette of the type of men she used to favor as boyfriends before her old life took a 180 degree turn and she somehow ended up among marketing specialists, lobbyists and politicians around the clock. Daigo looked like trouble - but of the best kind; if he tasted as good as he looked, it would make for a fantastic night.

Indoors, Melissa started shedding her clothes like an unnecessary part to her persona. First, the coat; then, the small purse which was slung over the shoulder. A couple more steps in had the woman ditching the heels and only barely remembering to turn on the lights for her guest - not that it helped her immensely, but most humans would need to see where they were walking, of course.

"Can I get you a glass of water or anything before we go to my room?" the woman turned around, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen - but upon the negative, she smiled and and resumed walking - but rather than going up the stairs and where the bedrooms were presumably located, Melissa asked for Daigo's help with a zipper on the back of the dress and offered a coy look at him in thanks, moving forward to another door across the kitchen.

"I'm renovating upstairs, so my bedroom is temporarily down the basement. At least it's not chilly during summer months," Melissa made light of it, voice sounding casual in her soft tone, and kept leading while making a show of exposing skin and promising more of that. Daigo followed - they all did, really; even when alarm bells should be going off in their heads saying that no one slept in basements of abandoned neighborhoods - but at least, to the brunette's credit, there were sufficient items of furniture to give an illusion of someone temporarily living down there.

Another light was turned on - feeble but enough for one to see - and the creature stopped there, facing the exit and right before a bed most would believe to belong to her. While Daigo walked towards his date for the night, Melissa pushed the dress off the shoulders and let it fall to the floor without a shred of modesty or shame - her body was pale and beautiful under the available light of the room, still in lingerie but not leaving much to the imagination. With dark tresses cascading over shoulders and jewelry glinting under the lamplight, she did look like the average man's greatest dream coming true: a pretty woman offering a good fuck with no strings attached.

"I apologize for the state the room is in - why don't you come closer so I can make it cozier for you?" a smile, meant to be seductive, but which hid something behind that crimson curve - a threat; a taunt. Once their lips locked, venom would start to be released into Daigo's bloodstream through her bite - enough to make him drowsy, confused and pliable, unable to see how the flesh under his hands changed and the eyes looking at him turned into those belong to a reptile.

Daigo was dinner - and Melissa was so, so hungry.

[dojimakaichou]

ooc. Hello, sweeties ! I have not been feeling the best mentally, so I'm going to take a few days away from Tumblr. Much love to everyone !