Baltassar’s Dark Side

Baltassar’s Dark Side

As a demon tender, Baltassar had learned over the millennia to recognize those he sought, regardless of their disguises. The brightest and sweetest smiling face couldn’t hide the creature lurking within from Baltassar’s eyes. This little new one, though, didn’t even try.

Oddly shirtless on this chill Chicago evening, the young demon wore low-slung black jeans that showed off his slim hips and a stark trail of black hair below his navel. His skin was pearlescent in the lights from the shops and cars, though smudged and streaked with filth. He was slender, but too thin and maybe five-foot-eight. Ah, less than, actually, seeing as his clunky black boots had two-inch heels.

He walked with his arms tucked tight against his chest and his head bowed, though he didn’t stumble into anyone, weaving through the bar and restaurant crowd like he had sonar. A curtain of stringy, black hair parted down the middle held a hint of red while also sporting twin stripes of white on either side of his face. A face nearly hidden, with body language that seemed desperate to go unnoticed despite his provocative attire.

Baltassar blended into the crowd as the boy passed him, then made his way closer. Since he didn’t know this demon and it was his job to know them all in this city, he snagged the young one by the back of his dirty neck and wrenched him into step beside him. The boy yelped, reached up to free himself as he stumbled along, then caught sight of his captor. The fight left him immediately. Pleased the boy knew what he was, Baltassar smiled and stalked onward.

He caught sight of blue eyes ringed in kohl that were bloodshot and wary, but they held his own blue eyes for a moment. Those lips were pale pink, the bottom one split on the right side but healing. The little demon was actually rather lovely despite the dark emo makeup and the fact he seemed to have spent a fair amount of time rolling around behind a Dumpster. His injury was further testament to his youth since older demons were able to heal themselves almost instantly.

They reached an alley and Baltassar moved them from the crowd and into the semi-darkness with only a few missed steps from his meek companion. Once they were far enough away from the street to avoid the humans overhearing them, Baltassar released the boy’s neck. His pale, dirty skin was as cold as the late autumn air.

“Reveal yourself.” He erected an invisible barrier beside them to block them from sight.

The boy sent a glance to the sidewalk.

“Ignore them and reveal yourself.”

He swallowed hard and took a small step away from the wall. Baltassar heard the sound of damp flesh separating, a slick and quiet suck, before a small pair of leathery, black wings pushed up and back from behind the demon. Ah. Interesting.

“A Desmodus demon. When was the last time you fed?”

“Three nights ago,” came the soft reply, his head bent again.

“Where did you leave the body?”

His head snapped up, eyes wide. “I didn’t drain him! I don’t do that. I swear!”

“Calm down.” Regardless of the energy it took, Baltassar added noise-cancelation to the invisible barrier. “Your kind usually doesn’t care.”

“I care.” He glared for a moment before lowering his head again. “I’m not like them.”

“And why not?” The Desmodus demons were what humans called vampires, but they not the romantic kind of fiction and film.

“I was raised human.”

Well, that was surprising. Granted, the little demon’s wings and hunger for blood wouldn’t have manifested until somewhere around his eighteenth year, so it was possible humans could’ve raised him without question. Baltassar had never heard of such a thing in all his years, though.

“Who is your sire?”

“I don’t know. I was orphaned. I’ve heard rumors, but I…don’t want to claim him.”

Baltassar smiled, intrigued by this self-righteous slip of a demon.
“Let me guess. Drake?”

He looked up again, his expression suspicious. “Are you one of them?”

That he couldn’t tell made him very new at all this.

Baltassar vanished the back of his dark gray suit coat and white shirt and unfurled his own wings in answer. At least four times the size of the little demon’s and formed by a sleek collection of sparkling bronze feathers, his wings enabled him to soar and now blocked the streetlight overhead, casting them both into shadow. Still visible, though, was the “O” of the boy’s pale lips.

“Does that answer your question, tiny Desmodus?”

He just blinked, looking deliciously awestruck. Then his pretty face scowled again. “I’m not tiny, angel.”

Baltassar took a step toward him, crowding him back against the wall. The boy gasped in pain and his right wing flinched. His intimidation tactic ruined by causing the little demon harm, Baltassar took hold of those bony shoulders and turned him around. They both gasped.

Apparently, the split lip wasn’t his only injury. Three angry red gashes marred the perfect blackness of the boy’s wing. Though they didn’t bleed, they looked very painful.

“How did this happen?”

“He did it. Did it and locked me in a cage for the past two nights.”

“Because you asked if he was your sire?”

“I never got the chance to ask.” His hand hovered over the back of his head. “I didn’t wake up until a few hours ago.” When he dropped his hand, it was rather obvious he had a goose egg of a knot on his skull.

“Does it feel better when your wings are hidden?” Baltassar resisted the urge to pet and heal those wounds here. Though demon, this one was an innocent. He needed help and a guide.

The boy nodded. “It still hurts, but it’s not as bad.”

“Then put them away.”

He folded them down, the skin of them going as pale as the boy’s back. He moved his hair over one shoulder before the small wings tucked up tight against his back and faded from sight. The three gashes remained, a testament to his injury, and he threw his hair back again, hiding them.
Baltassar hid his own wings, reassembling his clothing as well, and gently urged the boy to turn around again. “What is your name?”

“Timmy, um, Timothy.” A faint blush bloomed on his cheeks.

He felt his lips twitch as he forced himself not to smile. “I am Baltassar, Timothy, and you are coming home with me.”

“What?”

“Come along,” he said and took the boy’s hand. Timothy followed readily enough, though Baltassar could see his disbelief in his open staring.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m a demon tender. Part of my job is to act as police officer, occasionally as judge, and often as counselor.” He spared him a glance, smiling at the adorably awed look. “You are in need of the latter, as well as a healer.”

They rejoined the bustling crowd, full darkness now descended, and Baltassar realized Timothy jogged beside him on those skinny legs. He slowed his pace and fought down the urge to pick up the boy. It had been far too long since he’d had someone in his bed and, though it might be very wrong of him to take advantage of this situation, he knew he would invite Timothy into his bed tonight. He even knew how since first offering the boy his blood to heal him would bring out the lust in him. Taking advantage of that would be easy.

They reached his townhouse shortly and went right inside. There was no need for him to lock doors or install a security system since no supernatural being would dare and no human could even see the door.

“Upstairs to the shower with you.” He tugged Timothy’s arm toward the stairs before letting his hand go to pop his butt. Bouncy. He smiled when a pale hand covered the spot and he sent him a surprised look.

“You want me to shower?”

“You don’t?” He followed him up.

Timothy gave him a genuine smile over a slim shoulder as they reached the landing. The whole house was neutral tones because he’d never bothered to truly decorate in the years he’d been in Chicago. His little demon was an intriguing splash of ink on a white wall.

He also seemed to recognize the crackle of attraction coming from Baltassar as he glanced into the bathroom and then looked up at him with those soft lips parted.

“I’m going to hover up here to make sure you have help if you should need it.” He lifted his hand to the back of the boy’s head without touching. “It’s a nasty bump.”

“Oh. Alright.” He stepped into the beige tiled room and flicked on the light. His hair shone blue along with the dyed red and white streaks. Patriotic of him.

“Clean linens there.” He pointed to the cupboard. “Do not put those jeans back on. There’s a robe on the back of the door you can use.” It would dwarf Timothy’s lean frame, and Baltassar looked forward to seeing that.
Timothy nodded and went into the bathroom. Baltassar closed the door, but not all the way, and went into his bedroom. He sat in the wingback chair beside his bed and closed his eyes.

Concentrating fully on sound, he managed to hear the whir of metal teeth as Timothy unzipped his jeans and then the shush of them sliding down his legs. A little muffled curse, then tugging and clunking sounds as, no doubt, he dealt with his boots. More shushing before the sound of cloth hitting tile, then quiet footsteps. The water kicked on, sounding like a rainstorm to Baltassar’s ears, but he didn’t miss the boy’s sigh as the sound of the water changed from hitting his skin.

He sighed himself, slowly rubbing his cock and enjoying the pressure of his dress pants holding him back. He imagined the dirt sloughing off that white skin. Perhaps a pink flush highlighted where the hot water fell across his shoulders and chest. He licked his lips, imagining what other parts of his little demon might be pink. Nipples, certainly. Were they small as well? Nickel-sized and dying to be nibbled? Cock and balls, definitely. Pale pink and surrounded by black curls? Delightful image. And would that black fuzz also stretch back to his tight pink hole? He very much hoped so.

As the water went off, Baltassar stopped listening so intently and stood to remove his suit coat. He hung it up and spent a moment willing it pressed and fresh. He would do the same for the boy’s clothes as soon as he could. Smiling, he had a flash fantasy of Timothy back in his jeans and boots with one of his own dress shirts billowing around his svelte frame. The red one to highlight those amazing lips and make his pale skin shimmer.

He returned to his chair as he heard the door open. Timothy then stood in the doorway, and Baltassar was struck by the beauty of his ethereal, young face. Sans black makeup, he looked sweet and innocent. He’d braided his wet hair, the tail draping over his shoulder. Big blue eyes blinking, he licked his bottom lip.

The white terrycloth robe did dwarf him adorably.

“Sit here,” Baltassar said and patted his lap.

Caution and curiosity radiated off the boy as he walked closer. Baltassar bit his own lip to keep from smiling at the charming sight of the boy as he held up the robe so he wouldn’t trip on it. Then he turned and let Baltassar guide him onto his thigh. The robe slipped off one lean leg, revealing that his toes just grazed the carpeting. Adorable!

Those big eyes blinked at Baltassar as he loosened his tie, removed it, and opened his white shirt halfway down his chest. Did the boy realize he licked his lips again while he stared at the golden fur covering Baltassar’s chest? He looked forward to letting him play in it.

“Here,” he said and tipped his head, exposing his neck.

Timothy jerked away, his eyes bugging as he gasped. It was actually a good reaction, as far as Baltassar was concerned. The shock spoke of his innocence and human sensibilities.

“Come now. I know you know what to do with a bared jugular.”

“B-but you’re an angel!”

“Yes, and I’m offering myself to you so you can heal and feed. You need both.” He took hold of his upper arm and eased him closer.
Timothy swallowed hard, resting both hands on the angel’s chest. One finger rubbed the hair it found, the rest on top of his shirt. Timothy searched his eyes. Finally, he nodded and leaned close, his breath fast across Baltassar’s neck.

“I won’t take much,” he whispered and softly licked his intended target area.

“You’ll take as much as you need, boy.” He wrapped the youngster’s braid around his wrist and held the base of it, near his skull, to press that mouth to his neck. He felt those plump lips part and the little sting of Timothy’s fangs piercing his skin. They both moaned as he started sucking.

While he rubbed the boy’s back, he felt his wings trying to lift and spread. A few tugs at the robe had the top half falling down, caught on his elbows. He chuckled when Timothy whined against his neck at having his arms moved, apparently worried he planned to make him stop already.

“Shh, shh,” he said and put each hand back on his chest after freeing them. He wrapped his other arm around that slim body, watching his black wings stretch and shiver. “Just drink, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”

He petted his porcelain skin, feeling the heat infusing it and how the muscles firmed with every sloppy sound from the little demon’s sucking mouth. The poor thing was half-starved if the improvements in him could be so easily recognized. Since Baltassar could spare the blood without ill effects, he just held him and stroked him, letting him drink his fill.

Finally, with a moan, Timothy released him and licked the little wounds to seal them. It was unnecessary, but sweet, since Baltassar could feel them healing before his soft tongue finished its swipe. Then Timothy laid his head on his shoulder and panted, relaxed and— Baltassar smiled when he looked down and saw the flushed cock pointing up from between the folds of his robe, the foreskin revealing a ruby red and glistening crown.

“Feel better?” he asked quietly, as those wings relaxed down now, folding and feeling like living leather on the backs of Baltassar’s hands.

Timothy nodded slowly, then sat up. His previously pale face was pink-cheeked now, his lips just as red as his cockhead and sporting a dash of blood in one corner. The cut was gone.

Baltassar eased him close with the hand still holding his braid and licked the smear of his blood from Timothy’s lip. He smiled at the wide-eyed look he gave him. “Do you think me a tiny Desmodus as well?”

He growled, frowning, and looked pointedly down at his lap. “Not tiny, angel.”

Baltassar laughed and nodded because, no, he was most definitely not any kind of small there. Then the grinning imp untied his robe before he wiggled around to straddle Baltassar’s thighs. He rubbed his hard cock into Baltassar’s stomach, biting his lip now as he kept grinning.

“Such a temptation,” he said and held Timothy’s hip to still him for a moment. He unwrapped his hand from his hair and watched Timothy’s face as he unbuttoned his shirt completely. Soon the boy had furry skin and rippled muscles to rub against and did so with little moans and a quiet giggle.

“Don’t come on me yet.” He could feel Timothy’s fiery rod leaking against him. “Not without my cock up this pert ass.” He squeezed both full cheeks, his fingers dipping in to pull them apart.

Timothy gasped and sat back. “I’ve never done that.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky your first fuck will be from an angel then.”

He rolled his eyes. “You fuck a lot of new demons? It’s part of your—”

“No. Not at all.” He cupped his cheek and scraped his thumb across his bottom lip. “I’ve just discovered I have a bit of a dark side is all.” He smiled. “That bit being you, by the way.”

He snorted at him. “What is it with your obsession for my size? I’m tough, you know.” He set about unbuckling Baltassar’s belt with a confidence his shaking hands betrayed.

Baltassar took off his shirt and let his own wings out to stretch. He didn’t miss the many times Timothy’s eyes flicked back and forth between his work to free Baltassar’s cock and his wings. Perhaps he’d let the boy fuck him from behind later so he could hold onto them while he drove into him.

“You do have a devious smile sometimes,” Timothy said as he struggled to free him from his boxers. “For an angel.”

He wrapped his arms around Timothy, hugging him to his chest, and stood so his pants and the robe could fall to his ankles. Timothy practically purred and tucked his skinny legs up along Baltassar’s sides as he sat back down. Baltassar leaned back and held out a hand, willing the lube from the bedside drawer into his palm without the need for stretching and searching. Timothy bit his lip again.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have anything to worry about considering my demonstrated talents? I could will the lube inside you and your muscles loosened, but I prefer a little more manual involvement than that.”

He let his lip go and nodded. “Okay.” Then he watched as Baltassar slicked up a couple fingers and reached his hand down behind him. “Oh!”

Baltassar chuckled at him, painting Timothy’s pucker—and quite a lot of soft hair—with lube. The boy’s cock rubbed against his belly as he gasped and arched his back. The move had the tip of one finger pushing into him. Timothy groaned and moved to get more.

Baltassar pushed deeper with every small thrust. Those tight muscles trembled around his finger, so he added a bit of influence that had Timothy dropping against his chest with a long exhale. His whole body relaxed.

“Just feel this and breathe, sweetheart,” he said, again petting his back and the bases of his wings. “There’s nothing else for you to do right now.”

“Mmm,” he said back, his fingers slowly combing through Baltassar’s chest hair and teasing a nipple taut. “Mmm-mmm.”

He kissed his forehead and added another finger to the sound of more humming from his lazy little demon. Yes, it had been far too long since he’d had such a sweet partner in his bed…well, chair. He let his fingers play in the soft, heated embrace and kissed the clean, cool skin of Timothy’s forehead and cheeks. The boy was beautiful like this.

Baltassar willed his cock covered in lube and more inside the channel his fingers gradually left empty. His demon made a sad sound.

“Hush, now.” He held onto his hips. “Lift up and take me into you.”

Timothy bit his bottom lip again and used Baltassar’s shoulders for leverage as he lifted up. The worry on his sweet face was so cute.

“Sink down and take me as fast as you want.” With one hand, he held his cock in place. “There’s no rush.” Though he had to exert a little extra willpower himself when that tight sheath ever so slowly took him in.

“Oh! Wow,” Timothy said, his face full of open wonder.

Baltassar smiled. “See?”

Timothy sank faster, his head back as he grinned lopsidedly at the ceiling. He chuckled, the sound dark and holding a promise that made Baltassar’s breath catch. A moment later, it was he who made noise when Timothy started bouncing.

His eager demon stole his breath and blanked his mind as that lean body went up and down faster and faster. Baltassar had every intention of taking his time, but Timothy definitely enjoyed himself, grinning while he bounced. Baltassar had to fight for his control when he caught sight of pearly white fangs framed by blood-red lips.

His control shattered when Timothy sat fully on him and rotated his little hips, while jacking himself hard. As Baltassar came, he actually screamed into Timothy’s hair, clutching tight to a pair of black wings. Because he had his head down like that, he caught the first two shots from Timothy’s erupting cock right on his cheek and chin. He laughed, then groaned for the rhythmic squeezing of Timothy’s ass all along his cock. Baltassar gulped a breath and wiped at his face as he sat back.

When Timothy’s lean body thumped against his chest, Baltassar wrapped his arms around Timothy and just held on while they both panted. He fought off saying anything about how unexpectedly amazing that had been. He also resisted saying any such fool thing as begging the boy never to leave his arms. Then his cock slid out, making a rude sound as it did, and Timothy laughed.

His little Desmodus demon looked up at him, cheeks flushed, brow sweaty, and lips sporting a huge grin. “That was awesome!”

“It was.” He smoothed both hands back from Timothy’s face and into his hair, unable to resist petting, even as he tried not to cuddle too much.

Timothy, though, cuddled him by leaning hard and tucking his arms as far behind Baltassar as he could worm them. One was decidedly sticky. “Can I stay for a while more?”

“As long as you like,” he said, before he could stop himself. Ah, yes, I’m done for.

“Mmm,” he said on a sigh.

Well, it was pointless to resist now. He gave in and offered, “I could help you with your search for your relatives as well. If you want.”

“I don’t know. I still don’t think I want to claim him.” He pulled back and gave him a little grin. “Could I give up being a demon and be an angel instead?”

Baltassar’s breath caught because yes, he could do such a thing, but it would require declaring undying love for an angel to accomplish. No. Far too early for that. He smiled and tipped Timothy’s chin up more. “Be a demon a bit longer, sweetheart. I seem to have found my dark side.” He thumbed one tiny fang, cutting his own skin.

Timothy hummed as he captured his thumb between those lovely lips and started sucking, a wicked light in his blue eyes. Baltassar groaned quietly and moved them to the bed, while Timothy held on and grinned at him. He settled on top of his little demon and set his much blunter teeth to the boy’s neck, making a growling noise. Timothy’s laughter filled the room.

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