“I will take your water and your company for my promise. Once the circle is finished being destroyed and I can easily leave, you will never see me again nor will you come to harm. Does that work for you?”
She courageously glances at my cock then back up to my face and slowly nods. “As long as you cover yourself up, I won’t argue the company part. I have to be here anyway to finish steam cleaning.” She sighs and flips her hair over her shoulder, and then turns and grabs a pillow off a chair and tosses it at me.
I catch it and place it over my stiff cock. “Deal.”
Her lips twitch and my eyes zero in on them.
“D-deal,” she says, hesitating as she notices the intensity of my focus.
I don’t ease up, letting myself scrutinize every little thing she does. Part of me wants her to know that she has my unwavering attention, and to be uneasy, because I’m hiding my own unease.
The little witch has become too appealing for my own good. Enjoying the way her blush blooms and fades under my stare, I take the cup full of water from the edge and bring it to mymouth. She watches as I tip my head back and gulp it down. Pooling in my stomach, the water gives me some reprieve from the heat boiling within, but I know it won’t last long.
She nods again, to me or herself, when I gently toss the cup back to her side. “I guess I’ll get back to work then If I have your promise.”
This time I give her a nod.
She stands and straightens out her clothes. and as I push the steam cleaner to the edge of the circle for her to grab, and then the unattached bucket with my tail, I lie on my side and rest my head in my hand to watch her.
Wet clothes plastered to her skin, her curves are on display, her body’s true form contoured easily before me. Her shirt is blue, with a strange, colorful design on the front, and her pants are the same hue except darker and made of a different tougher material.
While Grace’s clothes don’t appeal to me, her body does. She appears reasonably strong for a human, even for a female. It felt good having her pressed under me, as I sometimes trap my prey. Yet I have never noticed the bodies of my prey, not beyond something I needed to destroy. In the case of the creatures I feed from, her body is unique. Hers… excites me in a new way.
Electrified tendrils spread through my veins, lashing at my senses. It isn’t the sensation of dehydration but something else entirely, something enjoyable. I want to feel more of it, this pressure that acts like the tide, flooding into my skin and scales in time with my heartbeat.
But as the pressure builds, so do other things. Watching her move around the room simultaneously relieves me and fills me with more of it. Pleasurable, but slowly growing more uncomfortable, increasingly stressful, like an ache that needs alleviation.
With her eyes still on me as well, she grabs the bucket and walks backward out of the room to gather more water. Though it seems to take longer than before, I have no worries that she won’t come back this time; I no longer sense fear in her, only nervousness and curiosity as her awareness of me deepens.
If I’ve learned anything in my short time here with her, it is that she’s a host of emotions demons can only dream of. And I’m ready for some of those dreams. Right now.
Licking my lips, I stretch out when I hear the water turn off, fanning my tail to its fullest display.
When Grace comes back into the room, I’m pleased to see how easily she now handles my presence. I’m not done with her, and if she does try to flee before our new ‘deal’ is done, Iwillgo after her. Demons have attached themselves to humans for far less.
I also see what took her so long. She’s in new clothes. A loose-skirted dress, colored a similar dark blue to her previous shirt, tied around her waist by a thin sash of the same fabric and hung on her frame from two small straps at her shoulders. It reaches just below her knees and sways, wavelike, around her legs. While the skirt dances, the top hugs her tightly, showing off a hint of a black undergarment underneath. It barely seems to fit, her chest stretching the material of the dress to its limit. Her hair has been retied, higher on her head, its length drifting around her shoulders. I approve. This outfit leaves her arms completely bare, and her legs too, beneath the skirt, all the way down to her feet. The dull nails at their ends, I hadn’t noticed before, are painted black.
“It’s my mom’s,” Grace mutters as she lodges the now-full bucket back into the steam cleaner, clearly meaning her new clothes.
“I see. Why did you change?” As much as I approve of this choice, I liked her better wet.
“My clothes were wet.”
“I know,” I huff in frustration, not exactly sure why I care so much either way.
She finishes preparing the steam cleaner and looks at me, her whole body hesitating as she avoids the pillow at my middle. “They were uncomfortable. I needed to change. Nothing else of hers fits. Or is even here in her closet to begin with.”
“You are better wet, human, trust me. The dress, while something new, is not wet. You promised me water.”
She rolls her eyes, walking over and picking up the cup where it still lies on the ground. Heading to the side room again, she refills it and places it back at the edge. “Here.” She doesn’t look at me as she walks back over to the steam cleaner, seemingly over my goading. “You’re going to have to move around as I vacuum. It’s going to be a little loud. You can deal with it.”
I pick up the cup and raise it to her. “I remember the sound.”
She keeps her eyes averted from me as she grabs the handle of the cleaner and turns it on. A loud humming noise fills my ears as the scent of lemon chemicals invades my nostrils.
Disgusting.
The air grows humid as Grace slowly rolls the machine over the circle’s edge. She pauses before her hand moves beyond its outermost border and pulls the back machine out, before pushing it in again.
