Chapter 6

The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows across the sweat-slicked skin of Urik and Melek. The air was thick with the scent of melted wax, sulfur, and the intoxicating aroma of desire. Every breath Urik took was ragged, his lungs burning not just from exertion but from the overwhelming presence of the demon who dominated him.

Melek loomed above him, his pitch-black eyes reflecting the low flames, pupils dilated with pure lust. His curved horns cast sinister shadows on the wall, while his scarlet lips curled into a predatory smile.

"Still resisting?" the demon growled, his voice a deep echo that made Urik’s stomach twist.

Urik didn’t answer with words. Instead, he dug his nails into Melek’s back, scratching the amber-hued skin until droplets of dark, shimmering blood welled up. The demon laughed—a rough, wild sound—before leaning down and biting Urik’s neck hard enough to mark, but not enough to tear.

Melek knew Urik wasn’t a man who submitted easily—and that was exactly why dominating him was so intoxicating. He seized the warlock’s wrists and pinned them above his head, his fingers burning like embers against the mortal’s cooler skin. Urik arched his back, a moan escaping his lips as he felt Melek’s naked body press him into the sheets, every muscle of the demon taut as steel beneath his flesh.

"You want more," Melek murmured, his lips trailing along Urik’s jaw before capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss. The demon’s tongue invaded his mouth, tasting him as if Urik were the last sip of wine before war. Urik responded with equal intensity, his teeth grazing Melek’s lips until he tasted the metallic tang of blood.

Melek’s hands slid down Urik’s torso, claws leaving red marks on his chest, his abdomen, before wrapping around his already throbbing length. The demon’s touch was like fire—hot, relentless, and deliberately slow. Melek watched every reaction, every tremor, every caught breath as his fingers moved with a skill only centuries of practice could hone.

"Melek—" Urik moaned, his hips lifting instinctively, seeking more pressure, more friction.

But the demon only smirked, slowing his pace even further, his hand torturously patient.

"Say what you want."

"Fuck, you know—"

"Say. It. With. Words."

Urik swallowed hard, his eyes flashing with defiance and desire.

"I want you inside me. Now."

Melek let out a satisfied snarl before releasing his wrists.

The demon didn’t prepare him gently. He didn’t need to. The magic between them had already left Urik’s body open, eager, every muscle adjusting to the invasion as if made for it. When Melek finally sheathed himself inside, it was with a single fluid motion, his length burning like a blade fresh from the forge.

Urik cried out, his fingers clawing at the sheets, his head thrown back in ecstasy. The pain was sharp, but the pleasure—the pleasure was overwhelming. Every inch Melek claimed inside him made the mark on his arm pulse, waves of dark energy coursing through his body like lightning.

"You’re so tight," Melek growled, his hips slamming against Urik’s ass with enough force to make the warlock see stars. "So perfect."

Melek didn’t hesitate to set a brutal pace, each thrust deeper than the last. His hands gripped Urik’s hips, claws digging into flesh, holding him in place as the demon fucked him with a strength that would have broken an ordinary man. But Urik was no ordinary man. He was a warlock—and he loved every second of it.

"More—" he moaned, his own hands reaching back to grip Melek’s horns, pulling him even closer.

The demon leaned over him, his body curved like a bow, his lips finding Urik’s ear.

"You’re mine," he whispered before sinking his teeth into the warlock’s shoulder again.

Urik felt blood trickle down, pain mingling with pleasure in a way that drove him mad. He could feel Melek’s power surging into him—not just physically, but magically—a dark current weaving into his very essence, marking him inside and out.

When the pressure inside Urik reached its peak, he couldn’t hold back any longer. His body arched, muscles tightening, and with a ragged cry, he came, his own blood and seed staining Melek’s torso.

The demon didn’t stop. He kept moving inside Urik, drawing out the pleasure until it was nearly unbearable. Then, with one final deep thrust, Melek reached his own climax, his heat filling Urik as the energy between them exploded in a storm of fire and shadow.

For a moment, all that existed was heat, sweat, and the scent of sex and magic.

Melek pulled back slowly, his eyes fixed on the warlock beneath him. Urik was a wreck—blood streaking from his marks, hair plastered to his face, lips swollen from kisses and bites. And yet, he had never looked more beautiful.

"No heaven will claim you now," Melek repeated, his voice softer but no less intense.

Urik smiled, exhausted and triumphant.

"I never wanted heaven."

And as the last candle flames flickered out, plunging the room into darkness, the two remained entwined—a pact sealed in blood, magic, and sex. An alliance no power in heaven or hell could break.