Chapter Text
Nicky's spit is cold as it hits his tongue, errant flecks catch on his lips. Lark's thighs make little movements as tremors of excitement roll over him.
Nicky kneels down so he’s still above Lark, close enough to steal another kiss. Lark wished he had a less cheesy way of describing it, but kissing Nick felt like fiery bourbon. It was intense, it seared his throat, sharp and honeyed, pain he couldn’t stand and pain he wanted more of. And then it was warm, settling in his chest like a sleepy cat, like hot tea on steroids.
Yeah, he’d play this drinking game. He wonders if there’s a hangover to this. He wonders what kind of hurt it’ll be.
Suddenly something sharp catches on his tongue, and he realizes it's Nicky's teeth. As soon as that realization takes hold, Nicky is scraping his fangs against the pad of Lark’s tongue. Lark is in every level of hell and heaven at once, his nerves are alight and the pain sends rivulets of pleasure through him, pools of magma gathering in his sternum.
Nicky looks down at him with something approaching fondness wrapped in a blanket of considerable lust. He keeps Larks jaw in his hand as he stands, Lark following with a little wavering stumble. Nicky crowds him against the far wall facing the still open door, his other hand working diligently on bruising where he grasps Lark's waist, his thick stomach giving way to Nick's insistent fingertips.
“Down.”
Lark winces slightly at his bare knees hitting concrete with how quickly he heeded Nick’s instruction.
Nicky looks fucking good, silhouetted by the dim light of the dungeon, his hair is still in its high ponytail while the rest of his wolf cut falls on his bare shoulders. His muscle tee is cropped enough to show his slender frame. Lark kinda wants to see if his fingertips would touch if he held Nick's waist in both hands. That thought is interrupted by Nick fussing with something above him, concentration furrowing his brow and making him frustratingly handsomer.
Confusion turns to anticipation as Lark watches Nick's face intently and hears the clink of chains just above his head.
Nicky makes quick work of shackling Lark to the wall, the chain attached to the cuffs is adjustable, and soon Lark’s hands are suspended above him so he can only kneel, with not enough wiggle room to stand or fully sit.
Nicky stands to assess his handiwork, and looks at Lark with that same concentration and beneath that - what can only be described as a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"Alright, big boy, how ya feelin'?"
Lark is on cloud nine. He's in the lowest layer of the inferno. He's fucking smitten.
"Good." He says so quietly it's almost inaudible to himself.
"Hell yeah," Nicky grins wide, "So here's the plan,"
“I’m going to keep you there, chained up,” He gestures to the door. “And I’m going to leave that open, for anyone to walk in,"
Here he bends down and gets so close Lark can hear the click of his teeth as they form his next words.
"Because you and I both know that in a heartbeat you’d let Grant or Terry bend you over your desk and use you for all you’re worth.”
The flush of warmth to Lark's cheeks and the slick that gathers between his legs only verifies Nicky's statement. The Demon's smile gets a little more demonic, his nose twitches almost like he can smell how hot that got Lark.
Nicky's hands move from his own waist to Lark's, he feels Nick finding the indents he made earlier and stressing them again before trailing ever so softly over the dips of his hips and the sturdy line of his pelvic bone. Lark notices Nicky's claws extend to scrape the soft skin just above his waistband. Hot sparks whirl under the skin Nick touches.
Nick noses into the crook of his neck and Lark feels him nip at the flesh there, leaving little teeth marks that unfortunately fade after a few seconds. They'll fix that later; he never figured he'd be the type to wanna be.. well, 'claimed' but he finds himself wanting to be decorated with bruises and bite marks and scratches from Nick and only Nick.
Lost in this thought, he brings himself gladly back to the present moment in which Nick's fingers have dipped into his waistband. Suddenly, Nick pulls back his hand and lets the elastic snap back against Lark's lower belly.
Lark jolts. He's debauchedly, desperately, devastatingly aroused. He's getting impatient and quickly realizes he can't do anything about it, and for some reason that only makes him wetter.
Now Nicky is looking up to him from his new position level with Lark's sternum, and the pads of his fingers are descending down Lark's thighs as he slides his briefs down his thighs, gently unfurling his legs from underneath him to guide the boxers off entirely.
Lark feels himself stripped bare, he closes his legs where he can feel the open air of the dungeon.
Nicky's hands rest under his knees, squeezing ever so slightly. Lark watches him slowly lower, gazing up at him through his eyelashes.
“Yes, no, maybe so?” Nicky has what could only be described as a gentle smirk, if such a thing exists.
“Did you put my arms up to prevent me from hitting you for saying stupid shit like that?” Lark may be smitten, but he has fucking standards for bedroom talk.
Nick is silent for a second, blinking coyly at him.
“Yes, no, maybe so?” Comes the reply with an absolutely obnoxious grin.
“Nicky, whatever method you have planned of getting inside me, fucking get on with it.”
The Demon in question hums slightly and lets his claws sink slightly into Lark’s thighs as he parts them, shooting little sparking pinpricks of pain and excitement up to where Nicky’s breathes against his cunt, slowly exposed as Nicky pushes his legs further, pressing them into the wall.
Nicky seems to take a moment to admire Lark, unfurled for him, wet and thrumming with want. Fuck, Lark’s not above begging.
“Nicky, please.” He exhales with a sighing little whimper.
“As you wish,” Nicky whispers and Lark can hear the smile in his voice.
He hears Nicky’s mouth part like the click of a gas stove, the anticipation of ignition makes Lark’s thighs shake in their hold, pinned into the cold ground.
Suddenly Nick’s tongue is on him, and a shotgun blast of arousal hits him and ricochets little shrapnels of desire all throughout him.
Nicky takes his time dragging over Lark’s folds, still pinning his legs far apart so his cunt can only welcome Nicky’s tongue.
Lark feels his pussy twitching against Nicky’s mouth, his hips bucking up involuntarily only to be forced back down against the wall.
Nicky hums and Lark feels it in his core, vibrating through him, more slick leaving him and mixing with Nick’s spit, messy and debauched.
Lark’s skin is ablaze, his nerves alighting a map of bright sensation to rival an aerial night view of Tokyo.
Nicky’s tongue teases his entrance like the shock of a cold droplet falling from a tree leaf onto his skin, no way of knowing when it will come or if another will follow.
As suddenly as it was there, Nicky’s tongue is gone, replaced abruptly with the air of the dungeon and cold where Lark is still spread open for him.
Nick releases the grip on Lark’s thighs, no longer touching any part of him, and Lark fights back a pathetic noise that threatens to escape his lips at the loss of contact.
The Demon reaches for his own clothes as he slowly stands, frustratingly majestic and commanding in his posture.
Then Nicky begins to pull his clothes back on, and Lark looks on with vague disapproval as Nicky hops up and down on one leg, nearly falling over trying to wrestle his skinny jeans back onto his body.
Nick more or less stayed the same size after he turned 19 and had those jeans even before that, and so now the denim is so ripped to hell that Nick's foot went through about 7 different holes before he found the actual end of the pant leg.
“Back in a jiff, baby.” Nicky smirks, and Lark tries not to betray the spike in his heartbeat that causes.
Slipping his docs on - without socks, the fucking maniac - and leaping to his feet, Nick blows Lark a kiss before turning on his heel and, true to his word, waltzing out the open door without closing it behind him.
And Lark realizes he has just about no choice but to sit there, breathing hard, feeling the slick between his thighs growing colder and unpleasant, the discomfort for some reason only worsening his damp predicament.
Lark was still reeling, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Nicky wanted to fuck him, and even more incredulously, like this: at the whims of a power trip, shackled up in a dungeon with nothing to cover him.
It’s like Nicky somehow found the scribbled fantasies of Lark’s teenage years, a great number of which featuring the Demon himself, especially after he got those snake bites in Junior year.
That's impossible, as those chicken scratch tomes were burned in the Oak-Garcia fire pit in a late night bout of paranoia. But really for all Lark knows maybe the souls of the smutty works written and subsequently destroyed by adolescents have their own subsection in hell.
The muscles in his legs burn from the strain of how he’s knelt and shackled, still sore from fighting the incursion earlier.
He feels as an uncontrollable shiver washes over him, feels his heartbeat loud in his ears and the thrum of it in his pussy, tensing and opening almost rhythmically against the chill of the air.
An indeterminate amount of time passes while Lark rewinds the tape of the last hour over and over before a silhouette casts a shadow from the open doorway of the cell.
A tiny lightning bolt of panic courses through Lark, splayed out and exposed for potentially anyone, only for the thunder to follow, deep rumblings of arousal flooding his system.
He recognizes Nicky, holding something Lark can’t quite make out and by the time his eyes can adjust, Nick is looming above where Lark is supplicated.
Lark looks up through his eyelashes at Nick as he feels the cold leather and rubber sole of Nick’s docs nudge his thighs apart, the amusement in the Demon’s eyes making his cheeks flush a darker red.
Nicky’s hands hover over him tantalizingly for a moment, before reaching above him to adjust the shackles. Nick chuckles at the small whimper that escapes Lark as he feels his insides boil in powerless frustration and condense into something saccharine and syrupy, pooling low in his sternum.
Nicky manhandles him into a standing position where Lark’s arms are stretched up above him, the highest the chains will go. Nick skims his fingertips down Lark’s biceps, seeming to relish the involuntary jolt as he tickles the skin of Lark’s inner arm.
The Infernal Prince traces further down Lark’s body, slowly resting on Lark’s hips, gently thumbing over the stretch marks there.
“How’re you doing?” Nick questions in a voice so incredibly soft that Lark has to close his eyes, afraid if he meets his gaze he’ll burst into flames that can never be put out.
“Good, really good.” Lark exhales.
“Need to use the safe word?”
“No.” Lark responds immediately.
“Remember it?”
“Yeah.” Lark more so whimpers the reply that says it.
Finding that sufficient, Nick crowds him further against the wall, using the tip of his nose to crane Lark’s head up enough to bite up the sensitive column of his throat while his hands maneuver under his thighs and lift Lark’s entire body, drawing a surprised gasp from him that Nick swallows up greedily.
Nicky seems to catch the startled look in Lark’s wide eyes, and just shrugs with one shoulder, moving Lark’s leg up slightly with it.
“Demon strength, man.” Nicky says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“Jesus.” Lark huffs an incredulous laugh, trying not to betray how tiny pinpricks of desire whirl under the skin Nick presses against, how Lark can feel the muscles of Nicky’s hands barely flex at the effort of holding him aloft.
Nicky brings his own thigh up to replace the hand supporting Lark’s leg, and suddenly Lark feels something warm and solid brush up between his legs, and he looks down to find Nicky’s other hand wrapped around what looks to be Nicky’s cock.
Suddenly the random exclamation of “Detachable Penis” clicks into place in Lark’s mind, knowing Nicky to be similarly content without bottom surgery, but tracing over the shaft with his eyes, finds a faintly glowing seam of magic where the dick connects to Nicky’s form.
Lark feels the press of Nicky’s erection on his inner thigh, and realizes that Nick is waiting patiently for his permission;
He meets Nick’s eyes and hopes that his own convey even a shred of the overwhelming need that blooms in his chest and thumps in his stomach, a little rivulet of his desire leaks down his thigh. Nick doesn’t have to ask him if he wants it, just has to raise his eyebrow for Lark to know his answer.
“Desperately .”
Nicky’s hand splays out, his thumb moves to play with Lark’s clit as he uses the rest of his hand to guide himself to Lark’s entrance.
Lark inhales as he feels the blunt tip of Nicky’s cock commanding his folds to give way, teasing his hole, wet and twitching.
Nick’s breath is shaky and hot on his clavicle as he pushes in, tormentingly slow. Lark’s walls pulse around the width of him, hips moving in tiny spasms until Nick gives in, using Lark’s weight to saddle him on his cock.
Nicky’s forehead is pressed into the line of Lark’s neck, rising and falling as they each breathe in, slow and thick, Lark’s eyes screwed shut and head tilted back against the wall.
Nicky lifts his head and starts to move, snapping his hips up where he’s already fully sheathed in Lark, making tiny thrusts deeper inside him while starting a path of conquest over his collarbones, sucking and nipping unmistakable little marks into his skin.
The chains above Lark clink in time as Nicky ruts into him, thighs held firmly in place by strong clawed hands that’ll leave indents and bruises that won’t fade for days.
Lark can only rock his hips against him as Nicky renders him useless but for the pulsing slick heat where Nicky glides his cock inside him.
His back scrapes ever so slightly against the wall as Nicky picks up the pace, not quite painful but not quite comfortable.
The heat of the frustration radiates from his core, thrumming over his skin, he feels it melt inside himself and the wet proof of it exit him, only to be thrust back all at once as Nicky rams into him.
He needs Nicky’s tongue inside him again, needs the ominous press of his fangs bearing down on his lips or tongue or skin or anything .
“Kiss me,” Lark pleads.
In an instant Nicky’s lips slide against his, barely gaining purchase with the movement of bouncing Lark on his cock, his mouth seals onto Lark’s, his tongue insistent.
It’s messy and fantastic, Lark feels suspended in amber, trapped in a vibrant orange menagerie of lust, the sole helpless subject of the Demon’s ministrations.
Nicky breaks their kiss and pulls back only just enough to look up at Lark, the hair falling over his shoulders swaying with the rhythm he maintains and the fast rise and fall of his chest.
“I- hah , fuck- I wanna go faster, but-“ Nicky manages through heavy breaths, “I don’t wanna- don’t wanna hurt you,”
“Do it,” Lark pants, “Do it, Nicky, fucking break me,”
He keeps rambling as Nicky grins and starts working on a hickey just below his shoulder blade.
“Fold me up,” Lark gets out between breaths, “I can be- hah- travel size.”
“What does that even mean?” Nicky’s laugh is breathless but his voice is deep and thick, Lark feels the vibrations of it where Nicky’s chest is flush against him.
Soft laughter seems to break free from Lark’s chest as well, an airy feeling going with it and making his heart pitter patter somehow even faster than before.
“I have no idea.” Lark admits, chest still shaking with oxygen-deprived laughter.
It feels like lying in the sun, being submerged in a golden beam of light that grows warmer and warmer until it scalds him, but there’s even comfort in the burn.