Griffin makes nice with a local witch coven, and Balakai plays the part of airheaded arm candy.

Word Count: 6701

CW: Swearing, Road Sex, Face fucking.

Griffin pulled the key from his bright red sports car, expression hard. He was not in the best of moods. He'd taken the week since his most recent death to follow up with some contacts and let himself heal up. He was still nursing a cough and tired easily, but well enough to brave going out into the world without the embarrassment of ending up on his ass. What had him nearly at his wits end was that in that time Balakai hadn't left his side. 

He had been making a point to make his presence known. He made a nuisance of himself, being too close, too present. Hanging over Griffin's shoulder, sprawling into his lap, nudging him out of the way with hip or shoulder when he needed to move past him even if there was plenty of room. Even on the drive he'd had his hand on Griffin's knee, fingers digging in just a little so that he was holding on rather than just letting his hand rest. 

Griffin hadn't noticed at first, or minded, actually. He wasn't sure he wanted to go so far as to say that he liked the demon, but he didn't object to his presence and the sex was a good time. Varied, wild, and hot. He had not one complaint there. Griffin was used to a certain amount of time to himself, however, and constant company was like a sliver under his skin. Having the help taking care of a few things that were hard while he was healing was starting to be outweighed by the fact that he couldn't do anything without company. He was working to keep his temper in check, however, because he really needed not to die at the moment. He had too much work to do. This morning that had involved preparing a few trinkets to replace those he'd expended. 

Witchcraft was an elemental thing, wild and primal. Unlike arcanists, a witch could simply call power from the environment and themselves. The right components, the right words, and understanding how magic moved in the natural world, and a witch could work a lot faster and to more devastating effect. Most practically, however, only a witch could imbue items with spells and magic. Griffin made a fortune doing it.

Rich fucks all over the globe who wanted magic that more scrupulous witches wouldn't touch, Griffin did. What did he care? 

He held out a hand for Balakai's. "Lemme see your hand." 

His gaze swept up the long path that led from the road where they were parked to the towering house in the distance. They'd driven enough out of town to have reached some of the old Victorian manor houses and this one was held by a particularly fussy coven. He would rather not have to deal with them, as they weren't fond of him, but if Velorum's warning was true he needed to make sure no one came knocking at his door unless he wanted them to do so. Breadcrumbs and all that.

At Griffin's insistence, Balakai raised a brow and took his hand off the witch's knee, offering it palm-up to him instead. "Who are we visiting? It's not like you have friends."

The witch pulled a length of braided, black leather with two silver beads and a chunk of raw garnet out of his pocket, fashioning it to Balakai's wrist with a droll look. "No, I suppose I don't." 

He gave an inpatient sigh, but forced himself to let the tension out of back and shoulders. He was more annoyed that he felt anything like guilt for breaking his... word? To the demon about going after Julian. He wasn't accustomed to the feeling and didn't like it. Balakai being all up in his space constantly hadn't eased it. Instead, he'd had to sit on the feeling and decide what he wanted to do about it.

Which, it turned out, was nothing. He'd get over it and they'd settle back into what he liked about keeping the demon around; a wild good time and someone who could put up with him that didn't make him want to snap their neck every five seconds. Not that he could.

"Remember when Velorum warned me Julian was using my magic? There's a very old coven that claims Boston and we usually stay out of one another's way. They leave most things to the Sinclaires or the Table. However, if Julian's murdering young witches and making it look like me, they aren't going to just sit on that. So, I'm gonna go play nice for a minute and you're not going to fuck it up for me. Besides, they might have some information I can use." He sighed and wasn't unaware of the little flutters of possessive worry that settled in his stomach. 

"The bracelet will keep them from knowing you're a demon. Becket runs a strict house and she would flip her shit if she knew I brought a demon into her living room." Now he cracked just a little bit of a grin. "I may have a problem with rules." 

Balakai wrinkled his nose a little at the strange magic settling over his skin, familiar because it was Griffin's and unfamiliar because he wasn't used to having magic worked on him. Well, magic that wasn't an attack. He leaned over the center console so he could inspect himself in the rear view mirror, noting the way his eyes shaded toward a warm honey brown rather than the burnished gold that was typically the tell tale sign of a demon or demonic host. 

"Great, so I have to play nice? Lame. Why don't you ever take me anywhere nice?" Balakai fiddled a little with the ends of the braided leather, but didn't try to remove it. "What do I get out of being on good behavior?"

Griffin tilted his head just a little as he studied him. The demon's ink was hidden behind an illusion of skin. He'd spent several days on this one to reinforce the wards and illusions, to make sure that no one would see through it. Sure, it had cost a fair bit when he was still healing, but it had been necessary. There were going to be places that he couldn't just bring a demon and he wouldn't be barred from going somewhere he wanted to be. 

"I'll take you out to Pandemonium tonight." His eyes lit with a little bit of wicked danger, lips twisting. "You'll like it there."

That settled, he opened the car door and fed the meter, looking up the long drive. Becket had been very clear that he was to walk. She liked a goodly while to prepare and she hadn't been matron of her coven for as long as she had because she was stupid. She knew Griffin was both wicked and dangerous. "C'mon. It won't take long if we don't make too much of a fuss."

Rather than use his own door, Balakai slithered across the center console and followed Griffin out the driver's side. He settled in next to him, tucking an arm through the taller witch's. He'd rather decided that he liked hanging on Griffin's arm. It was fun. He was moderately more dressed than usual, in one of Grif's dress shirts and his black and white striped skinny jeans. The wine colored shirt brought color to his fair skin, and it looked intentionally oversized the way he'd tucked it in at the front, emphasizing his slightness. It was just buttoned up enough not to fall off his shoulders, and the sleeves cuffed up above his elbows to keep them out of the way.

"I've heard of it but haven't been. Was too busy watching you and then fucking you to check it out." The smile he flashed up at the witch was sunny and boyish. "I think that'll do nicely. Let's get this over with- this is uncomfortable."

Griffin should not have been surprised when Balakai took his arm, but he was, a little. A twink hanging on him at a club wasn't out of the question or some high class Ivy League jock, but not as consistently as Balakai had done. He didn't even think about it when he held out his elbow and adjusted his gait to match that of the shorter man and a little frown pulled at his brow at how automatic the behavior was becoming. He wasn't uncomfortable that he'd done it, he was uncomfortable that he had done it without thinking. 

It was becoming a habit. He was accustomed to the demon. 

If it hadn't been for the heat, it might have been a nice walk. Griffin did not like hot weather and under the humid canopy of the old growth trees it felt almost oppressive. He could feel them watching and he wasn't unaware that the eyes of the birds would report to their mistress. All except the crows. They would never belong to a white witch like Becket. She preferred those who sang pretty and did as they were told. As he would never do. The green was dotted with colorful flowers, made to seem wild but he could see the hand of their careful cultivation. The coven was known for their herblore, bested only by Helen and her little troupe, not that they admitted that. 

The house at the top of a slight rise was painted slate blue, with purple trim and green accents. It felt like a peacock feather, the huge Queen Anne, and was in flawless repair. Maybe it wasn't exactly out of aesthetic for a coven of witches, but sometimes it was better served to embrace the expected. 

"I thought I smelled carrion," came a low voice, accented in the way of Boston natives. The man who was leaning against a large oak tree was broad of shoulder and hip, well muscled and tattooed. His silver hair was pulled back in a braid even if he didn't look over thirty. He was missing an eye, and dressed as if he would have fit into the late twenties well, with his flat cap and black corduroys, blue tank, and black suspenders. 

Balakai smelled them long before the man came into view, but he started at the voice anyway. He shrank back against Griffin, turning wide eyes on the one eyed witch. His expression was slightly slack-jawed, lips parted in surprise. It was a sort of theater he enjoyed, huddling back into the shelter of Griffin, clinging to his arm as though he clearly expected the witch to protect him. He kept quiet though, because he'd been asked very nicely to be on good behavior. Besides, it was in keeping with his simpering idiot role, which he was thoroughly enjoying.

"Well, fuck knows you couldn't see me coming, Bran. Want me to take the other eye as well? Or is one enough for your insolence?" Though Griffin had told Balakai to play nice, he knew what these people expected of him and sugar wasn't it. 

A woman not much smaller than the man dropped from the tree he was leaning on, all lithe grace and her hair too was silver. They bore a clear resemblance. She had both of her eyes, a dark blue, though there was a nasty scar that looked like small claw marks on her right cheek all the way to her jaw. 

"What Death-forsaken business has the Lord of Crows here?" She was crouched as if to strike and Griffin did not miss how her fingers were curled like claws. 

"None of yours, Ola." He gave her a smile that was all poison. Griffin set a hand on Balakai's as the pair watched them proceed toward the porch but did not stop them.

As Griffin drew him up the porch, Balakai turned his bambi-eyed expression up to him. "Grif, is he blind? Why couldn't he see you coming if he still has an eye?" 

His voice was pitched high and breathy, and just loud enough to be heard by the people behind them even though it sounded like he was trying to keep his voice down. He tittered a nervous giggle.

"No, darling, he can see. I just like to tease him because I'm the one who took his other one. Bran fancies himself quite the guardian of his coven. Ola and Bran don't like me because I'm ‘unnatural’. Took it out on some of my crows when last I was in town and I took it personally." He cast a look back over his shoulder at the pair who were glaring at him with unveiled hatred. "Notice that they know better now. Just like good little bitches."

Ola snarled at him in an almost feral way, but her brother put a hand on her shoulder and she went silent. 

The door opened soundlessly before they reached it to knock.  He brushed a kiss on top of Balakai's head to add weight to his play, not actually able to keep the quirk of a grin from his lips because it was fun. For all that sometimes the demon got on his last nerve, this was a game in which he delighted and he had met few equal partners in his long life.

"Ooooh." Balakai drew out the syllable in a sort of sing-song. He glanced back over his shoulder as they waited at the door, twisting the toe of his boot into the boards of the porch, shooting glanced back at Ola and her brother as if they still scared him. No small part of him wanted to snarl back. His teeth were bigger. They didn't scare him one bit, even if Griffin felt like he had to play nice-nice with them. He supposed it would at least make their life easier or something.

He let the kiss on the top of his head draw his attention back and he cuddled into Griffin, tucking his face in against his arm.

If the old house may have prompted visions of a stately old Victorian woman, Becket Shaw was none of that. Her long, red hair was streaked with silver and pulled into an artful pile on top of her head. She was dressed with modern grace, high waisted linen pants in cream and a pale blue silk blouse that flowed to accent her lithe figure. She could have been anywhere between late forties and early sixties, but it was hard to pin down, and her green eyes were sharp. Her wrists were decorated in many charms and bangles, and her fingers with rings. There were little charms braided into bits of her hair and she wore one large labradorite around her neck. Her arms were crossed as she stood in the doorway, just a bit back, regarding Griffin with suspicion writ clearly on her austere face. She wasn't pretty, exactly, but she was striking.

Her gaze fell on Balakai at his side and her eyes narrowed a little further before her expression softened. "Oh you poor lamb. Come in. What have you gotten yourself into?" She flickered a glance back at Griffin. "What did you do to the poor thing that he looks at you like that?"

"Fucked him stupid at a French bistro, what else?" Griffin's voice was bored and Becket made a disgusted sound as she gave a little nod of her head to invite them in. She didn't wait to see if they followed, just turned around.

"Have some class, Griffin. No one can stop you from destroying yourself, but must you bring others into your damnation?" There was something old in her tone, maybe a lingering hurt that she had tried long ago to burn away.

"Yes," he answered simply, guiding the demon in.

Balakai studied the woman under the sparse veil of his dark lashes. He tittered another soft, nervous giggle at the back and forth between them, piping up in a breathy, hesitant voice.

"He's not so bad, ma'am. I started it at the bistro." He blushed, and tucked his head back down against Griffin's arm. The art of shapeshift that let him have a human skin while wandering around the mortal world gave him a particular ability to control many of his own responses- blushing and crying on command were wildly useful in these sorts of little games.

Becket made a little tsk and shook her head. "He's a terrible person, dear, though I'm sure he's told you. He tells all the girls that as if it's hyperbole." 

She paused by a clean, modern bar in her equally modern sitting room to pour herself a glass of wine. She leaned on an elbow and her sharp gaze rested on Griffin as she finished to Balakai, "It's not a jest. He really is the worst."

Griffin smiled and escorted Balakai over to a high backed chair where he could observe anything in the room he wanted, in particular the entry through which they'd just come. He didn't ask her permission, just poured himself a glass of her wine and went around the bar to root about in the small fridge there for a beer for the demon. 

Balakai settled into the high backed chair, knowing that it made him look small. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt, letting them fall from their cuffed up state so they draped down and mostly covered his hands. 

"Oh he's been awfully good to me." He demurred softly when she went on about Griffin, watching the tall immortal witch with a look of open adoration. He reached up with both hands to take the beer that was offered to him.

"I'm not a liar though, am I? And I even told you I was coming into town like a good boy observing all the niceties. What more could you want from me?"

"For you not to be a murdering, black-hearted bitch who poisons everything he touches." Her tone was droll as she watched him hand the demon his beer and perch on the arm of the chair while he sipped the very dry Cabernet. 

"No can do, beautiful. I am as man hath made me." 

She sighed and assumed a place on a chaise across from them. "Why are you here? I told you to stay out of Boston after last time. You said work, which is the only reason I let you here to begin with. That didn't mean I wanted to see your face."

"Let me?" His voice was light, but there was an edge of ice in it as he ran his fingers along Balakai's arm, absently. "Have you and yours gained some dark might that I don't know about since I took Bran's eye, or are you forgetting? Because I think we both know that you don't let me do anything, Becket Shaw. Besides, Boston is Sinclaire territory whole and neither of us are enough to overturn that ship."

She frowned in answer.  For a long moment Becket studied Balakai.  He batted wide, doe-eyes at her with a sort of vapidness of expression that said the whole conversation was going right over his head.

"What do the Sinclaires have to do with anything," Becket asked after a sip of wine. "I didn't think they liked you any more than I do. You make friends everywhere you go."

"Because there's someone all of you hate more than me."

"Doubtful," the witch replied with a snort.

Griffin tilted his head just so, loose chestnut hair falling around his face in a pretty mess. "Julian Rhodes."

She went very still. "I'd know if Rhodes was in my city."

"Are you sure?" He didn't push, but gave her a minute to do the math and she set her wine on the table beside her to pull out her phone.

 Two quiet minutes later she sighed. “He's the one masquerading as you, isn't he? I remember you two had a thing. He was a lot like that one back then." And her gaze fell on Balakai.

Griffin nodded. She might not like him, but she was quick and made sure to know who the bad apples in the world were. Witch communities weren't like others, so closely networked, but they gossiped when they got together and Boston-Salem was a hub. Always had been. "I'm here to put an end to him."

She raised an eyebrow. "Would have thought you approved of his methods. You like to leave nothing but bodies and grief behind you."

"Yes and no. I paid for certain knowledge and he stole it. Aside from the fact that he's doing it wrong and that offends me." His voice was cavalier and she made another disgusted noise.

"You are a monster, Griffin."

"Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing."

Her attention turned back to Balakai. "He'll be the death of you, lamb. That's what he does. Uses people until they're not useful anymore and then he consumes them." She didn't know the exact details of Griffin’s magics, or what kinds of deals he’d made, but she knew he was powerful and dark.  That he moved in ways no decent witch did. It was forbidden and disgusting magic, an affront to the laws of decency.

Balakai was getting bored.

He understood, to a degree, why Griffin was playing nice with people. Doing the work now so his life was moderately easier down the road, no one hunting him for shit he didn't do. It was one thing to deal with the consequences of shit you actually did, but Balakai could think of little more annoying than his life being disrupted by something neither of them were actually guilty of. He sipped his beer and leaned against Griffin, and didn't even try not to look like he wasn't getting bored. 

When Becket addressed him again, he perked up. He blinked at her, still in that frame of wide-eyed innocence, then leaned forward and set the empty beer bottle on the table, lacing his fingers between his knees, elbows pressed together. It made the shirt gape, and would have given a great glimpse of cleavage if he'd had tits. 

"You're so kind," he said earnestly. "It's very sweet of you to be concerned, but really I deserve someone like him. It'll be okay. He would never do something like that to me. I'm special to him."

Her gaze flickered over to Balakai and she frowned again, his words clearly displeasing her. "Special? To Griffin? Do tell."

There was something very sharp in her expression.

"I want to go now, Grif. Can we go?" He chose instead to look up at Griffin rather than answer the matriarch. "You promised you'd take me out and I need time to get ready."

Griffin's attention shifted from Becket to Balakai for only a moment, but it was all that she needed. He almost didn't catch it before her spell hit the wall of his hastily thrown up shield, which shimmered like oily iridescence in the air between them, supported by his outstretched hand. All of his lazy arrogance sharpened to something animalistic and cruel as Griffin stood up between the Coven Mistress and his demon. He kept one hand on Balakai, fingers like claws as he held to him possessively. Balakai slid to his feet behind Griffin as he stood between him and the matriarch of the coven, fingers curled through his and his hand resting lightly on his hip. Peeking around his body with sharp curiosity and none of the shock or horror or concern that perhaps should've been his reaction. But they were running to the end of this play now, and he was ready to move on. 

"We doing this, Shaw? You can't have forgotten how that ended last time?" His voice was void of anything but cold and rage. 

"What did you bring into my house, Griffin?" The witch's eyes had gone a kind of moonstone color and she clutched the labradorite charm in her hand, the other outstretched, ready to cast. Her attention was on Balakai and it was clear that she understood that he wasn’t what he appeared even if she couldn’t see through the charm Griffin had given him.

"I owe you no answer, Becket. I came here as a courtesy, such as with which I bother. And my toys are none of your business. Stay out of my affairs and clear your people out of the city if you don't want them to get caught in the crossfire. I’m here for Julian and nothing more, but I won’t hesitate if your people get in my way. That is all the warning I'm going to give you." He thrummed with power that he rarely showed, not in the interest of playing his hand too often. He liked the threat of power, but actually using it was a pain in the ass. There would always be moments, carefully calculated, that he needed to remind people why they hated and feared him.  Becket was powerful, had the backing of a coven, and still he had countered her spell as if it were nothing at all.

Becket hesitated. She didn't relish the thought of the damage that she was well aware the other witch could do to her house, and she had some very costly art on the walls. 

"Heard." The word sounded as if it had been pulled from her by force. "Now get out."

"My pleasure," Griffin said with a cool grin. He lifted an elbow for Balakai and beamed at him indulgently. "Sorry about that, beautiful. Hospitality doesn't mean what it used to, it seems." 

He could almost hear Becket grit her teeth as he gave her a little flourish of a bow and escorted the demon from the sitting room. 

"There are stories, Summerville. That you made some unholy pact with Death. I always thought they were conflated to serve your ego."  Becket’s eyes had gone back to their usual striking green and she leaned on the bar again, taking a slow sip of her wine.

He paused at the large archway. "I consort with Death as often as he bothers to annoy me with his presence. What of it?"

"If you chose to stay in Boston, I might get curious. I might decide some of the rumors have merit, and that you are a liar."

"I am a liar. The trick is deciding what is truth, Becket." Griffin gave her a coy little wink and led them back to the front entry, never not on guard in case she decided to lob another spell at him.

Balakai bristled and a quiet growl rumbled in his chest at her indiscreet threat. 

"Don't get curious." All the vapidness left him, the words deadpan. Warning. He backed up for a few steps as Griffin led them to the front entry, then slowly turned to follow him properly, never letting go of his hand.

The stately woman narrowed her eyes and it was clear she was trying to figure out what he was, no longer under the impression that he was some poor human being led astray. There was really no way to see through Griffin's charm, however, and she satisfied herself with a cool little grin. 

"Maybe not a lamb, then. Something else." She didn't interfere with them anymore than that, a thoughtful expression on her face as she watched them go.

Balakai favored the woman with a bright flash of smile that was perhaps a little too much teeth before the door closed behind them. He stomped down the steps, slipping a little ahead of Griffin in his eagerness to be gone. The illusion still laid uncomfortably on his skin and he picked at the leather bracelet. Not enough to undo it, though it was clear he rather wanted to. 

Griffin was on the lookout for Bran and Ola as they left, not certain that they wouldn't just try and attack them for the fun of it. He delighted in baiting them, but as inside he wasn't overly interested in showing more of his hand of power than necessary. The coven followed their own somewhat strict code to remain in the light, but even they had called on Griffin from time to time. Witches, like anyone else, had their own problems and when there was magic involved, those got bad fast. He was very comfortable with his place as everyone's dirtiest little secret because when they needed one of their own dealt with, he was the one they called. 

"Not even going to bother to say hello, Griff? I'm hurt." The voice was a little rough but rich and the man it belonged to was sitting under a great oak tree. He had light brown hair, short but in need of a trim, and his skin had seen plenty of sun. He was dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt, but he had a black, leather harness over it that seemed to suit him, and no shoes. The eyes that looked out of a handsome face were dark brown and keen.  An open book rested lightly on one knee.

"No, Dylan. I'd rather intended to ignore the fact that you exist." 

The other witch chuckled low and smiled with high amusement. "Not what you said last time I had you. Am I so easy to forget?"

"Entirely," Griffin replied stonily.

Balakai was not very pleased when they were interrupted again, though at least Griffin didn't stop walking. He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue at the other man, swinging the hand he held of Griffin's. "God, first Nikki, then Julian, now this guy? Why is your taste in men so bland?" 

"Waste not, want not," Griffin replied as they walked. "Not everyone fucks like a demon." He looked at Balakai and a slight grin pulled at his lips, "You're one of a kind, baby."

When Dylan made to rise, to follow after them, Griffin didn't even look as he waved a hand and the other man sat back down with a thud. He grasped at his throat and though wasn't choking, any time he made to speak, no sound came out. 

"What an improvement," Griffin chuckled darkly. The demon laughed, delighted by the play of words and boosted himself up on his toes to kiss Griffin's cheek as they walked.

As soon as Griffin got in the car, Balakai shoved his wrist at the witch. "There, see? Good behavior. Now take that off."

Griffin untied the braided leather and tossed it into one of the cup holders, putting the car into gear and pulling back onto the road with perhaps more speed than absolutely necessary. 

"If we're going out, you're going to want to be dressed in more than my clothes." His expression actually softened and he looked at him a little side long. "For good behavior.”

Balakai scrubbed his wrist after the bracelet dropped off, giving a little full body shake. He fidgeted in his seat, scrubbing his hands through his hair and running his hand down his arms as if chasing away the sensation of magic until he felt comfortable in his own skin, checking in the mirror to see his eyes were back to their proper color. 

"I like what I'm wearing," he objected, pouting a little. But he looked curiously out the window as he drove them towards a strip of fancy boutiques, raising a brow. 

"I suppose I could let you spoil me. I'm not going to wear anything I don't want to though," he warned, turning back to Griffin. Catching the look on Griffin’s face, he leaned across the center console and purred. "You liked the way I twisted that woman's tail, didn't you?"

"I did. I enjoyed it tremendously. Becket hates me and I can't stand her people. They represent everything that I have cast aside. They all get to live and judge me because of the blood I spill to grant them that leisure. I'd be a much more bitter bitch if I cared more about their judgement. I've managed to shrug off most rumors that I'm immortal as fancy or admitting them and framing it like a lie. If I keep the story muddled, I don't have to deal with it. I don't need anyone looking for the truth.  Plenty of my kind are long lived and it’s not even all that rare for a witch to trade for long life.  What I am, how I don’t stay dead… that’s different, though.  Even the long lived stay dead when you kill them.  I don’t." He gave a sigh and ran a hand through his hair absently, then grinned a little indulgently.

"Wear what you like. I don't care. I just thought that you might want some things of your own. I'm not under the impression I, or anyone else, can make you do anything that you don't wish." His hand fell to rest on the demon's thigh, caressing up across his cock easily.

"Mmmm good." Balakai arched a little under his caress, reached back to grab the headrest and stretch his body in a taut line. He gave a little wiggle. "Fine. Spoil me. What's the dress code at this club?"

Griffin grinned and applied more pressure, stroking him with purpose as he drove, looking for a place to park. "There isn't one. Pandemonium is... not for the light side of folk. Whatever vice you enjoy, there is someone or something there for you. Or us, as the case may be." 

"Well, what're you going to wear? If we're going as a couple should we match?" He huffed a soft breath and closed his eyes, bucking his hips up into Griffin's hand. He slid one of his hands down to tug open his fly.

As Balakai freed himself, Griffin brought his fingers to his mouth to wet them before he dropped his hand back and slid them along the already hardening length. "Those hot leather pants of mine, the black ones, and I dunno... pasties. Or that ridiculous red, silk poet's shirt and knee high boots. I might go full Jareth if I'm feeling saucy. Let's see what you find. Might come across a cute little collar and matching leash for you and that could be hot."

"Mmm. I don't fit those, they're too long. And ill fitting leather sucks." Balakai growled low in his throat, eyes closing as he tilted his head back and let Griffin work him. "I don't mind wearing a collar and leash. It's cute when people think I'm just a dumb little twink. I enjoy the way they look at me. The things they think about doing." 

He gave a breathy groan.

Griffin probably should have been paying closer attention to his driving, since the city was busy this time of day, but he couldn't actually be assed to care. He liked the demon arching under his hand and he had actually behaved while they'd been at Becket's. More than she had, anyway. And more than he'd actually expected. "You are a little twink, you're just not stupid and strong enough to rip a man into pieces. One doesn't cancel out the other. You gonna go fishing and let daddy watch?" 

He picked up the speed of his movements along Balakai's slick, hard cock and turned them into a parking garage. He didn't stop when they paused at the ticket attendant and when Balakai gave a particularly loud moan, just smiled like the Cheshire cat and continued on their way. It took a little bit of dexterity and skill to get them parked one handed, but he did. 

"I'm a twink with a big dick. There's a whole fetish reserved for me." Balakai hummed happily, returning his hands to the headrest. Thrusting up into Griffin’s touch with moans and the occasional laughter-edged sigh. His eyes were only just slit open, edging more towards amber than gold. "I could do that. Sure you won't get jealous? Mmm it'd be real cute if you were though."

The witch unbuckled his seatbelt once they were parked and shifted so that he wouldn't hurt his ribs as he leaned over the center console to replace his hand with his mouth.  Balakai went quiet for just a moment, then he rumbled a growl low in his throat. One of his hands dropped to tangle in Griffin’s hair, the pads of his fingers pressing encouragingly into his scalp, the subtle strength of the demon holding him down as he thrust his hips up.

"I will get jealous. And I'll take it out on you. Won't that be delicious?" Griffin hummed, pausing only to make the promise before he gave in to the demon's strength and relaxed. The trick was not to tense up and fight, to let Balakai fuck his mouth and he made pleased noises as he rested his hands on Balakai's hips.

"You'll take it out on me?" The demon laughed, soft and throaty. "I'd like to see you try."

He didn't give the witch a chance for a catty retort, but held him down and used his throat like a sleeve. The demon's head fell back and his eyes closed, hips rolling in easy, almost lazy motions. It wasn't a hard, rough fuck, but he kept Griffin's head down all the same, not pulling out very far each time. A comfortable grind because he was already close from Griffin's fondling and Balakai was drawing it out, taking his pleasure where it was offered.

Griffin reclaimed one hand and slid it into his own pants, already plenty wet and he moaned into the demon as he used him while he stroked himself. Not urgent, exactly, but indulgent. There was plenty of time in the day and if they were going to go out tonight, he knew that he'd get his a-plenty.  He enjoyed this kind of easy play, not the franticness into which he so often fell. This felt almost normal and that was novel and he would have sighed if he’d had enough breath to do so.

"You're such a fucking slut." Balakai murmured, voice perhaps surprisingly indulgent, affectionate. "You like to just be used like this. Fucking adorable." 

He shook his head slightly and his next thrust was a little harder, as if making a point about the way Griffin just took it, took him. He had a passing thought to wonder what it would be like to try and fuck his throat while he shapechanged the way he had the other night, catch his knot behind Griffin's teeth, maybe dislocate his jaw with the size of it. The demon shuddered and his other hand joined the first on Griffin's head, pinning his face down between his legs as he gave a few more short, deep thrusts and emptied himself down the witch's throat with a low, gasping moan.

Balakai wasn't wrong. Griffin was a slut and there was not one breath of shame in his game. Just as he enjoyed being used so, because it was hot and even if he was giving he felt like he was in control. He'd started it after all. He drank him down with greedy noises, gasping for breath as he finally came up for air and his vision returned to something like normal. He ran his tongue up the underside of the demon's cock and gave a little flick of his tongue at the tip with a satisfied little twist of his lips. 

"Waste not, want not," he reiterated with a low chuckle as he leaned back over to his side and shivered, reclaiming his hands and reaching into the center console for the packet of wet wipes he kept there. He cleaned his hands and gave Balakai a grin. "So, lunch, and then shopping?"

Balakai looked him up and down, then leaned over and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Griffin's still unfastened pants, tugging them down his hips before he had a chance to do them back up. 

"Sure. Lunch first." He pushed Griffin's back up against the driver's side door and this time it was him who crawled half over the center console and buried his face between Griffin's legs.