by Bea Biddle
Dreadlocks grunted at him. “Coming from a dead guy, that sure is sound advice, Sly.”
"Well, aren't you a grump today," Sylvester mumbled passively, running his hand along the bulging biceps, his fingertips playing and caressing on the darker skin, all the way down to Dreadlocks' wrist. "Any other wounds you need me to check?" he asked in veiled innocence.
“I'm good,” Dreadlocks grunted, taking another large slurp of his coffee.
“Such a shame," Sylvester said with a sigh and shook his head with put-on disappointment.
“I don't need you to do this," the darker man added, gesturing to his wounded shoulder. "I'll be fine."
“I am aware, yes," Sylvester said, caressing the arm of the Demon tenderly. "But I do so enjoy this, let me have it."
Dreadlocks chuckled and shook his head at him. “You'll never change, will you?”
“No, but you love me this way,” Sylvester countered with a graceful shrug. Karen shifted awkwardly, folding her jacked tighter as an excuse to do something, anything, with her hands. She already knew Sylvester wasn't interested in her, his constant flirting was all a game. But she had kind of hoped the game was reserved for her and she couldn't hide the surprise that he was so obviously being suggestive with the Demon he was tending to.
Dreadlocks caught her expression and snorted in a laugh. "First day? Then you have yet to catch Sylvester's playthings sneaking out when the diner opens."
“Playthings?” she questioned.
“Vamps," Dreadlocks mused, "As it turns out, are a lascivious bunch. Men, women, Vamps, Weres. I've even seen the poor Ghost boy, with an embarrassed expression, tiptoeing past me." He shook his head at Sylvester. "Leave the boy alone, Sly. He's a little young for your games, isn't he? Sixteen?"
Sylvester licked his lips in satisfaction. "I am just a very accommodating person who obviously does not discriminate," he explained in a seductive drawl. "And yes, sixteen. But be fair, he has been sixteen for over two hundred years. Which technically makes him a lot older than you, old friend. He will never be older. I believe I'm navigating a gray area here. And he may look a little young, but I can assure you, after what I experienced, he is definitely all man."
"Don't crap where you eat, Sly," Dreadlocks warned him.
"But it's so tempting," Sylvester said with a chuckle. He put away the dirty cloth and placed a square piece of white linen on Dreadlocks' shoulder, taping it down. "There, let me know if it gives you any trouble and I'll take another look." Dreadlocks tested his arm, stretching and flexing.
Karen swallowed hard, she enjoyed watching that way too much. She should go, she couldn't stay here any longer. She was the newcomer and was obviously intruding on an old friendship. She hated feeling like a third wheel. "I'll- I'll see you tonight," she said to Sylvester and walked away.
Before she could reach the door, Dreadlocks called after her over his shoulder. "My name roughly translates to Ceftion in your language. You can call me Cef."
Karen walked home that morning tasting the name, liking the way it felt on her tongue.
four.
After that first night, the rest of the week was pretty straightforward. She had fallen, or rather had been pulled kicking and screaming, into an inevitable, relaxed friendship with Sylvester. She had taken an instant liking to Zac. She was fascinated with Pete and when she had the chance, she would watch him do his thing. Alyssa was always around, somewhere or the other, and as bosses went, she was the most easygoing one she had ever had. And she had had a few. She was surprised at how much she liked all the customers, Vamps and Weres were such an interesting bunch, every day was something new. One day she would be discussing history with a person who had lived through it, the next she was discussing Thanksgiving recipes with a werewolf, most of them involved a lot of meat, obviously.
It was almost scary just how fast work had become something more, something fun and exciting. She had been there for such a short amount of time, but she already loved the diner. It was always happy and cheerful, full of interesting people and exciting stories. She really didn't want to admit it to herself, but it was starting to feel a lot more like home than her apartment.
The only thing not completely straightforward at the diner was Cef. He was the only thing that didn't come so easily to her. He was there often enough, sitting at the corner of the counter, a place she soon realized was thought of as his spot. But most of the time he ignored her, barely acknowledged her presence. Sometimes grunting a greeting.
He drank a lot of coffee. As in, a lot of coffee. He was never without a steamy cup in his hands. And he was always so quiet, so brooding. Sometimes reading a newspaper, but most of the time he was lost in deep thought, or talking with Sylvester, or having a friendly word with Zac. Those were the times she saw him smile, when his moody expression softened. He looked so different when he smiled. Completely transformed. Not that she spent a lot of time studying him. Not at all. She had better things to do. Ok, maybe a little studying between tables.
But whenever she tried talking to him, their conversations were short and clipped, filled with too many awkward silences. She could tell he was trying, just as she was, but they never seemed to be on the same wavelength, stumbling over words and rushing them out before thinking. Their interactions were stiff and almost embarrassing. He had initiated a conversation once. Once only. And she had a suspicion Sylvester had forced him.
He had said hello politely, his voice gruff and uncertain. She had said hi and scratched her neck awkwardly. He had hesitated, and then, almost as if he was lacking words, had pointed at her notepad and mumbled something about her neat handwriting. He quickly left after that. And she realized she had forgotten all about the plate of meat in her hands that had been dripping on the floor. It had been the most confusing day. Straight after, he had returned to the same old standoffish Cef from before. Barely tolerating her presence.
Sometimes she felt his eyes on her when she was serving people. Sometimes she caught him glaring at her. She couldn't read his expression, but it gave her the shivers when he did. His black eyes practically tore through her. And then she was all thumbs. She didn't know what came over her when he was around, it was as if she became clumsy and bumbling as soon as he showed his face. She had dropped a plate once. Actually dropped a plate on the floor just because he entered the diner. Not to mention the bottles that had slipped from her grip and Sylvester had to catch for her.
She felt so weird when he was around. She tried not paying him any attention, but it was so hard. His being was so demanding even if he wasn't talking or moving. Or acknowledging her at all. She tried ignoring him as well, tried telling herself that she didn't give a damn if he was there or not. But she did, regrettably. He was a constant fixture in her mind when he sat at his spot, drinking his coffee. And it was even worse when he wasn't there.
She tried not to be too obvious when looking around the diner for him, but she still had a feeling that Sylvester knew. She would make up excuses to stay late, wiping down the counters again and again, and all he did was nod and give her a knowing smile. How annoying. It wasn't as if she had a crush, that was stupid, she was a grown woman with a boyfriend at home. No, it wasn't a crush. Cef had been rude to her, he was still rude to her most of the time, called her a human. She didn't realize it at the time, but after thinking it over, it came to her that he used it as a massive insult. Definitely not a crush.
She was just interested in him, that was all, she had never met a Demon before. That was clearly the only reason she jumped every time the bell rang out, announcing a new arrival. The only reason she glanced at the door more than she should. The only reason her mind kept wandering to his dark eyes with the one eyebrow raised when he looked at her across the diner. The only reason. So, yeah, definitely not a crush.
Alyssa, as always, was oblivious to her new employee's behavior. That was a relief, it was bad enough Sylvester had picked up on her odd interest in the Demon, she couldn't have the owner of the dine
r starting to think she was being weird as well. She had stormed into the diner one morning while they were closing. With a giant smile on her face, she had told Karen what a good job she had been doing. How she knew, Karen wasn't sure, she never hung around long enough to see her do any work, but who was she to argue with that? Alyssa had even insisted that she took Saturday night off. And Karen was doing just that.
Come out and play! I never see you anymore. Come out tonight! It'll be fun I promise.
Karen shoved her phone away, ignoring the text from her sister. She was right, she hadn't seen Danielle for a long time, but tonight was not the night. She had already decided what she was going to spend her free time doing.
She picked up the lacy red underwear that she had bought on the way home. It was just the right kind of flimsy see-through thing that Colin loved, covering absolutely nothing. The money she was earning was good, too good for a waitress, she couldn’t complain. It only meant she could spend it on stupid things. Like the underwear. The kind of underwear you buy purely for sex because wearing it meant you ended up walking around adjusting the itchy lace in your ass, not to mention the boobs being pushed so far up you almost couldn't breathe. No, this was meant to be torn off during a passionate, wild night. The thought excited her to no end. It wasn't just her sister she hadn't seen in a while. Once she had started working nights, Colin's work schedule only left time for them to see each other in passing. It was annoying, but tonight she would make the most of it. She planned to drive him crazy, she was going to drive him so mad with desire he would ravish her body like he hadn't done since... forever. With a mournful sigh, she realized she couldn't even remember the last time.
She neatly displayed the flimsy red garments on the toilet cover. Imagining herself in them. And imagining Colin's face when he walked in finding her on the bed wearing it, a playful expression on her face and her black high heels on her feet. The heels were also bought especially for that night. They were so high she couldn't walk in them, but she guessed, if all went to plan, she wouldn't be doing much walking anyway. She grinned to herself and turned on the shower, letting it run. Her mood was high, not even the text from Colin earlier, that had said he would be working overtime and wouldn't be home for a few more hours, annoyed her. That just meant she had more time to prepare.
She stripped down. The bruises on her back had almost disappeared, the scratches across her stomach from the werewolf were healing neatly. The gash on her arm would leave a scar, but it didn't bother her much.
She stepped into the shower and let the warm water take her away. She shampooed her hair, massaging her scalp. Running her hands across her body, enjoying the body scrub with the sweet scent that Colin had made her buy. She let her fingertips caress her stomach, her hips, imagining the night to come. Briefly, she let one little soapy finger slip down to her most sensitive place. A few playful strokes and a moan escaped her lips. But now was not the time. She rinsed her hair and body, about to get out of the shower when the shower head fell off the holder. The stupid thing always fell off.
When she picked it up, the shower head sprayed across her chest and her nipples tingled. She couldn't help herself, she splashed water on her chest a few more times with a small giggle. She looked down at the shower head in her hand. Maybe just a little. It couldn't hurt, she concluded. She would still have enough pent-up sexual energy to play with Colin when he came home. She sprayed on her stomach, moving it downwards to wash over her hips, her thighs opened.
"No, don't do that," a deep, accented voice spoke from outside the shower curtain. It was torn aside with a quick yank, revealing a tall, smoldering, horned man. On his lips a curved smile played, his eyes shone with desire as he stepped into the shower. "That would be a waste of your body."
Karen covered her breasts and pressed her back against the cold tiles behind her. "Cef? How did you get in?" she hissed in surprise.
He was naked. Gloriously, wonderfully naked. His tan skin shimmered with small pebbles of water that ran down his chest. The sight was mesmerizing. Embarrassingly enough, she had practically memorized every inch of his beautiful physique from that first encounter in the diner, and here it was all on display, just for her. His eyes danced possessively over her wet body. His dreads were tied back, his horns glistening in the steam from the shower. His sharp eyebrows lowered over his dark eyes, his seductively full lips parted in a crooked grin that made him look like a mischievous satyr. She couldn't help the longing groan that escaped her throat.
He pulled her into his embrace. Pressing her slippery, wet body against his. "The door was open," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her back. Karen knew it wasn't open, but she was not going to let that little detail destroy this.
She almost melted. She forgot all about her modesty, the hard, warm body made her skin burn as it pressed against her own. He pushed her away, but before she could protest about the lack of bodily contact, he had spun her around and pulled her close again. His thumbs brushed her nipples in lazy, languid circles that had her groaning. His lips were on her neck, his tongue licking, scraping her blushing skin with his teeth. He molded and kneaded her breasts, pinched a pointy nipple, earning a throaty cry from her. "Please," she begged in a whisper, not sure what she was begging for.
He purred in her ear, rough and harsh, making her shudder again. His right hand left her breast, his fingertips circled their way downwards. It was painfully slow and achingly wonderful. She pressed her back against him, wanting to feel all of him, raising herself up on her toes she rubbed and teased, feeling the hard member against her backside. He was as big as the rest of him, huge, enormous. And it made her whimper in excitement. He growled in pleasure at her teasing and responded by biting down on her shoulder, not hard, but hard enough to make her ache for more. His fingertips continued to play down her stomach, lower and lower. Skimming the top of her thighs, taking his time as he expertly stroked, excruciatingly slowly, closer still to the place she desperately wanted his fingers to go.
"Please," she breathed again. This time knowing exactly what she was begging for. And so did he. The rumble of his chuckle reverberated through her as he ignored her plea and continued the torture. Her body hummed for him, her every nerve ending on fire, his fingertips leaving goosebumps wherever he touched. She let her head fall back against his chest, pressing her body to his. Then she hissed sharply, and her knees almost gave out. He had touched her. His middle finger slid down the wet cleft, stroking up and down in a light airy caress that drove her wild with an instant, overpowering yearning. She wanted to scream out in frustration. It wasn't enough.
Trying to grind into his hand, she bucked against him. He merely chuckled again, held her tighter to his rock-hard chest, one hand massaging her breast, pinching her nipple, sending pleasurable shockwaves all the way to the junction of her legs, the other hand teasing her, caressing her but avoiding that special place entirely, driving her into a frenzy. His soft lips on the back of her neck, the scratchy stubble on his chin grazing her skin, his teeth nipping along her shoulder between kisses. It was too much, it was all too much. "Please!" she begged again, this time louder, demanding. Her voice broke, panting and breathlessly she moaned. "Please, I need you-Fuck!"
One finger slid in. In between lips soaked in more than water. He found her throbbing bud skillfully fast, stroking and caressing her immediately. “Is this what you want?” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her ear.
She wanted to scream out, wanted to tell him it was, wanted to nod, wanted to do anything, but she couldn't. It was too good. Finally, finally, he stroked her, his deft fingers caressing and circling and pinching and playing her, leaving her a whimpering, whining and moaning mess in his arms. She was so ready for it, so ready for him, she couldn't stop her hips from rocking in the rhythm he was setting.
Clinging to him, her arm wrapped around his neck, holding him close, she took in the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of him. He was magnificent, a large beast o
f a man, a glorious caveman. Her caveman. She tangled her fingers in his wet dreadlocks, finding his smooth horns. She wrapped her index finger around one, not completely sure why the feel of them increased her excitement, but not caring either.
She cried out when he increased his pace. His fingertips viciously, brutally pushing her closer to that invisible edge. They were pure magic and she was torn between never wanting them to stop and to beg him for her release. Her legs almost gave out from underneath her. She was on fire, burning and scorching, the flames he ignited consumed her. It was both unbearable and wonderful all at once and she didn't know how much longer she could endure this beautiful torment. He crushed her pliant body into his warm embrace, growling her name.
"Ceftion! Oh, Cef. Fuck!"
She exploded. Shattered in a million pieces. The earth moved beneath her feet as she collapsed against the cold tiled wall. Breathing heavily, panting and sobbing as waves of pleasure tore through her body. Every fiber, every muscle and nerve, turned to mush and left her a wobbling mess. With a satisfied, content sigh she leaned back to press herself against him again, against his warm, hard, inviting chest, to have his thick arms wrapped around her, holding her as she floated in the glorious aftermath with her body practically singing his praises.
But of course, he wasn't there. She remembered that much too late. Screamed in surprise, she lashed out after something, anything within reach, to prevent her from falling on her ass. Her fingers curled around the flimsy shower curtain. The shower head dropped from her hand to the bottom of the shower with a loud crash. For a moment she let herself feel safe, but then one after the other, the shower curtain rings snapped off under the strain of her weight, and with another scream, she crashed to the floor. The wet shower curtain landed on top of her.
