You'd been a Demon Hunter for as long as you could remember. So long, in fact, that you didn't even remember when, or why, you'd joined the ranks of the brotherhood. But it was no matter. The important thing was that you had joined. And since then, you'd become one of the best. No, the best. You'd never met anyone who knew of demons, yet hadn't heard of your reputation; [Name], the most brutal Demon Slayer the world had ever known. And that reputation was what gave you strength, knowing that your name struck fear into the hearts of demonkind.
Which is what made your recent capture even more humiliating.
Your fingers twitched, your knives feeling noticeable absent. You really didn't feel safe without them; even if you knew the silver bullets could be just as effective, they didn't mean quite the same to you. Sure, werewolf and vampire bites were horrible things; you'd seen the victims. You'd watched, unable to do anything, as the first transformation turned people you knew, people you loved, into snarling demons, but at least dying from a bite was quick; a maximum of five- maybe ten- minutes. No, the death you feared the most was by an incubus. And here you were, being pushed down onto the bed by one.
He was young, you could tell. The horns spiralling from under his golden blond hair, although not small by any stretch of the imagination, were nowhere near what they would grow to be like. A wide smirk covered his face, like he couldn't believe he'd actually pulled this off. [Name], the [Name], who had murdered hundreds upon hundreds of his fellow demons, trembling underneath him, subject to his every demand.
You tried to look away from him; the glint in his blue eyes made you feel like he could see right into your naked soul. But the moment you pushed your head to one side, he grabbed hold of your chin, forcing you to look back to him, before running his other hand through your (h/c) hair, like you were some sort of beloved pet that needed correcting. You still tried to push him off, your bare shoulders grinding into the rough sheets, but it was to no avail.
You were his. Utterly his.
There was no way you could fight back. And you were starting to question if you really wanted to. It wasn't you thinking that though; you'd had enough experience with incubi to know that they always had this effect on people. You'd always thought it was purely scent that attracted people to them, and scent alone. But there was something about this one, something about him that seemed to ruin every theory you'd ever had about them. Sure, he did smell nice, like some mix of cinnamon and citrus, but that still didn't give you confidence in your theories.
Because everything about him seemed to attract you.
You stopped struggling and sunk into the mattress, opening yourself to whatever 'he' wanted. The man's smirk grew even wider, and he bent down to pull at your belt buckle. You lay there silently, waiting for the inevitable
W-wait a second. Had you lost your mind? He was a demon, everything you'd sworn to protect the world from. And here you were, just letting him tear everything from you; your reputation, your honour and, you were starting to fear, your life. You drove your knee upwards, inwardly smirking as you heard the demon's sharp intake of breath. But your feelings of triumph were not to last long.
You were pushed back into the pillow by a hand around your throat. The room's scent had seemed to utterly change; the smell of burning wood was still there, but instead of comforting you like it had a second ago it seemed to choke you. You looked up to find the incubus directly above you, anger burning in his eyes.
"What the fuck was that for?" he hissed, like a snake that had just been provoked.
He tightened his grip around your throat, forcing your body to try and gulp down massive lungfuls of air. You instinctively grabbed his wrists and tried to force him off, to no avail. He was a lot stronger than he had seemed a moment ago, literally supernaturally strong. The previous attempt to fight back had been a waste; you were still his and now he was pissed at you.
He finally let go a few seconds before you lost unconsciousness, leaving you gasping for breath. A shiver made its way down your spine, and it wasn't from the cold.
"W-what the fuck do you think I'm doing-?" you finally managed to come out with, every word almost spat out; your vocal chords were still too painful for normal speech. Not that you'd have talked normally if you could.
"It's Alfred", he said, having assumed your pause at the end was a demand for a name, despite the fact that you honestly couldn't care. Noticing your silence, he added another sentence, "Remember it, 'cause you'll be screaming it by the end of this evening."
He pushed his leg between yours, forcing you to let out a heavy groan, the pleasure in your voice undeniable. This couldn't be happening; you were the best, and yet you had ended up like this, being toyed with by the very demon you should be hunting.
A whisper escaped your lips, begging him to stop. But he didn't; instead he went faster, before slipping a hand over your bare torso. His hand was freezing, forcing a shudder all down your body. You couldn't understand why he was doing this, you were enemies and besides, you'd already lost your soul, so he-'Alfred'- had nothing to gain from this.
"W-why can't you j-just kill me?" you hissed, trying to ignore the growing bulge in your pants.
He ground his leg against you again, trying to break you, to force you to submit. You managed to keep your mouth shut this time, stopping the moan from escaping. You could tell he was surprised; the expression on his face said it all; you were like a wild horse that stubbornly refused to be broken. But you would be eventually, even if it killed you.
"Because it's fun to torment you", he purred, looking for all the world like a cat who'd just got the cream. You were almost at your limit; there was only so much longer you could hang on for. He must have been able to tell, because he carried on, trying to push you over the edge.
"Not so tough without your knives and bullets are you?"
You closed your eyes, trying to block this out, not wanting to admit what was going on. Any second now you were going to wake up and find this was all a nightmare or some simulation the folks back at HQ had put you in to see how you'd react. It wasn't real; it couldn't be.
You felt the worn fabric of your jeans rub against your legs, almost itching, as they were pulled off you. No matter what you wanted to think, you couldn't help but accept the pleasure running through your veins, like sparks of electricity, as the large hand was placed over the bulge in your boxers, before starting to rub up and down. Your body betrayed you and you bucked your hips, your animal instincts finally taking over. It didn't matter if he was a demon any more; you wanted him.
You opened your eyes again, as you felt your final item of clothing being torn off; the glint in Alfred's eyes was even more obvious now. A slight blush had started to cover his face, something you'd never have expected from an incubus, even it was relatively unnoticeable He'd done something to you, something that had stopped every one of your instincts from working, forcing you to just lie there so he could take the final step and claim your soul. And you truly no longer cared.
He pushed your legs upwards, before you noticed something. Still panting, the sweat drops still sliding down your naked body; you had to gulp down a few lungfuls of air before you could say anything.
" you gasped out, eyes half closing again.
He shook his head, a shadow falling over his face, as if this was the part he was going to enjoy the most.
"Demon Hunters like you don't deserve it."
You expected him to start thrusting into you then and there, no matter how painful that would be for you. In fact, he would probably want it to hurt, to force you to cry out in pain, to beg for mercy. A fitting end to his revenge.
But he didn't. Although you'd closed your eyes again, you were still utterly aware of what was going on. You didn't know, or want to know, what his plans were for you. Instead you just lay back, to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You could feel his finger inside of you, forcing you to let loose a low moan. He was still just toying with you; you could tell there was still so much to come.
He added another finger, your discomfort growing. It took every ounce of self control you had left not to whimper. There was only so much you could take and, despite yourself, you couldn't help but want him. Want every part of him, even if it killed you.
"God, you're tight~"
You bit your tongue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction you knew your cries would give him. Part of your mind told you to start begging, to start pleading. But you couldn't; you still wanted an ounce of self-dignity on your deathbed.
He pulled his fingers out and you could tell he was smirking, even if you couldn't see. You heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down, shattering the silence that had enveloped the room. The temptation to reopen your eyes started to grow and eventually it grew too large to ignore and you started to open your eyes.
He thrust into you, pain ripping through your body, forcing you to let out a yelp. It was unbearable; you'd been bitten by vampires and nearly torn to shreds by werewolves, but that was nothing compared to this. This was pure torture, but not to extract information. No, this was torture for the pure fact that this 'Alfred' enjoyed it.
And really, you couldn't really blame the sick bastard. Not after what you'd done to his kind.
"Y'know, you'll end up dying of pain if you don't relax~"
You clenched your eyes shut again, not wanting to hear his voice. Not wanting to have your emotions torn apart along with your body. And what did it matter if you did die of pain, anyway? He was only going to kill you later.
His thrusts became stronger and the intense pain started to fade away. It was still there, undoubtedly, but it was less overpowering now. Something else took its place, something that, had the situation been different, you would have called pleasure. Though you knew there was no pleasure to be found in this situation.
He changed his angle, immediately thrusting against the sweet spot inside of you. You bit down on your tongue harder, the metallic taste of blood becoming even more noticeable, desperate not to show any sign that he was getting to you, not to show him your weakness. But it was impossible now; you could feel the tension building in your body, the slight tremble in your torso. Alfred pulled you closer, his scent overpowering your nose. You shuddered, in one last futile attempt to hang on. Then you heard a moan escape your lips.
Lightning bolts of pleasure erupted around your body, white clouding your vision. Your feeling was muffled, but you could tell that the demon had stopped thrusting. Not that it seemed to matter to you; for a moment, you forgot where you were, what was happening. But Alfred's voice dragged you out of your dream-like haze, back into the real world. You opened your eyes, to find his face right above yours.
"You know what happens now, don't you, [Name]?" he purred, wanting to taunt you one last time. You swallowed, before nodding, accepting your fate.
[Name], the most brutal Demon Hunter the world had ever known, was going to die that day. By the hand of a demon.