Midnight Demons [ON HOLD]

Spit Filled Vodka

I start laughing hysterically. "Yeah, okay. Next time, just say you're watching dark BDSM porn. I don't give a fuck, whatever you're into, my guy." I dramatically wipe off a pretend tear under my eye.

"I'm serious," Samael says, bringing the car to an abrupt stop.

"Right, and I really enjoy the feeling of a titty in my hand," I tell him sarcastically.

Samael takes his glasses off and reveals pitch-black eyes. So black looking into them feels as though I am swimming in a dark void.

"Sammy, why do your eyes look like that?" I ask tentatively.

"I think I'm gonna go back to my place. Do you want to join me?" I've never met someone so skilled at deflecting a simple question in my fucking life.

"Deflect much?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at him. At some point, I had subconsciously sunk as far away from Samael as I could.

"Here are the options. I can explain, and you could continue looking terrified. Or you and I could fuck wildly, and then I'll explain."

I let out a dry laugh. "It's fucking hilarious that you think I'm going to get into bed with you after that. Fucking hilarious."

"Luca."

"No, since I've got in this car, all you've done is deflect my questions. I'm leaving." I grab the handle of the door and yank it open. I begin walking as the rain pours, and Samael follows me with the car.

Samael rolls down the window as he trails along beside me. "Come on, Luca," Samael pleas in a whiny tone.

"Fuck you," I say, not turning my head and continuing on my walk through the rain.

"You're being dramatic," Samael complains.

"I hope you get gonorrhea." I tell him, turning a corner and feeling Samael's shirt stick to me like a second skin.

"You're a child."

"I hope you get gonorrhea, then I hope your gonorrhea clears up, and then I pray to god you fucking get it again." I stop in my tracks and peel off Samael's shirt and chuck it through the window of his car.

"Are you done?" Samael asks, shutting off the car.

"No. I hope you go to the doctor to get it treated, and they treat it by slamming your dick in a book they did in the fucking fifties." I watch as Samael gets out of the car and walks over to me, crossing his arms across his chest. "And I hope-"

Samael cuts me off by grabbing me by my face and kisses me.

"I-I-I-" Again, this prick interrupts me by picking me up and putting me over his shoulder. "Put me down!" I scream, beating on his back with my fists.

"We're gonna go get a drink," Samael says.

"You're gonna get your car towed." I mumble.

"No, I won't. It's parked legally." Samael continues to walk. I can't see him, but I'm assuming he is looking for a place that serves drinks this late at night.

"I want you to know that you're an asshole, and I don't respect you."

"You're gonna respect me," Samael says, and I can practically hear his smirk.

"Is that a threat or an innuendo?" I asked, letting out a small chuckle. I don't know if I'm laughing at him. Or awkwardly chuckling at the thought of me on my knees in front of him in complete submission.

Samael puts me down in front of him. "Oh, darling, why can't it be both?"

I feel a hot blush climb onto my cheeks.

"Ready?" Samael asks, looking at me excitedly. I don't know when but at some point, Samael's eyes shifted to a more brown color than black.

"You have some issues." I laugh, going into the bar before him.

I grab Samael's hand. "If you're gonna make me get drinks, you're buying and drinking as well."

"Sounds fair." Samael says with a laugh.

I pull him down onto a barstool and take the one next to him. I look over at Samael and am overcome with desire. He is sopping wet, and I can see every single muscle under his shirt. I am one hundred percent aware this makes me sound like a two-dimensional bitch in a romance novel. I want nothing more than to tear his shirt off and see what is under his shirt.

"Two shots of vodka, please," I request from the bartender.

The bartender is wiping down a glass cup as they always seem to be doing. The bar is near empty, and it is evident that he doesn't want to serve us. Hopefully, that is because it's late and not because he is a bigoted asshole.

"Isn't it a little late to be getting drinks, boys?" The bartender asks. His voice is rough and sounds exhausted to the bone.

"Aren't you a little old to still be a bartender?" Samael asks, looking the bartender up and down. To be fair, the bartender looks as though he is rapidly approaching his fifties.

"Sammy." I whack him on the shoulder. "Be nice. He's gonna spit in your drink."

"He's right, you know." The bartender laughs, setting his glass down. "But it's fine boys, I promise I won't spit in your drink as long as you promise to tip well."

"He promises." I grin at Samael.

"Yeah, whatever." Samael mumbles.

"Thank you," I say to both Sammy and the bartender.

The bartender returns with two drinks in his hand, one for me and one for Samael.

We down them both, and I turn to Samael and say, "Go on and pay the man."

"Alright, alright." Samael reluctantly hands over a bill.

"Sir, this is a fifty."

"I know. Go ahead and keep the change." Samael smiles.

"Thank you." The bartender gives us a warm smile and wishes us a good night.

"Will you take me home now, Sammy?" I ask.

"Are you gonna stop calling me Sammy?" Samael asks, linking arms with me and walking toward the exit.

"Almost certaintly no," I laugh.

"What if we just have wild car sex, and you can moan 'Sammy' all you want?"

"While I would say yes but since you've been so reluctant to answer my questions, I don't feel comfortable having car sex with you tonight. However, if you have food at your place. We can go there and maybe, maybe, have morning sex if you answer all my questions." I tell him as we make the rain-soaked journey back to his car.

"I'll think about it. But you can come to my place, if you promise not to judge."