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Something's…not right.
A grim thought for one to have so close to dawn. Yet for Mephistopheles, such a learned response had become all but a "seventh" sense now considering...recent circumstances.
At first, he figured he suffered from a stroke (can demons even have those?) The right side of his face was numb and he couldn’t seem to fully move his jaw. As his sight adjusted, a large, pink object obscured his vision, as well as what he assumed to be an unmanned jackhammer next to his ear.
The way the dildo lurched for his face was almost sentient. Mephistopheles jolted backward, crashing to the floor of his bedroom in an avalanche of pillows and blankets. He could feel the beast struggle atop him as he wrestled with his sheets, his hands grasping for anything to rid him of his tormentor.
Grabbing a pillow, he swung it at the pink menace, striking its side and sending it flying across the room, smack against the wall with a mechanical shriek.
The dildo, having failed to capture its prey, flopped into the darkness of his bedroom closet, still buzzing, still waiting.
“Ugh, what?” a voice moaned from the top of his mattress.
“Did...did you not just hear me get assaulted by your dildo?”
Vivica yawned. "That’s fucking hilarious.”
“Your need to “spice up” the bedroom has all but completely shattered my innocence. I can no longer look at the world through child-like eyes. And that thing,” he pointed at his closet, “that thing needs to be removed.”
Vivica sat upward, stretching out her arms. “But I like Perry the Enchanted Rabbit.”
“You gave that thing a name?”
“Yep,” she said, her voice a bit too enthusiastic. “In fact, I name all my dildos. Jack Frost, Ms. Bust It, The Recockining, Jeromé. Besides, you weren’t against using Perry last night." She winked. "I don't think I've ever heard someone moan quite as cute as you before."
Mephistopheles clenched more than just his stomach. Four hours. For four hours she teased him mercilessly. And there were just...so many settings. “Even so, that thing scares me. I mean, an “enchanted dildo?” The things these…sex makers come up with.”
“Sex makers? You’re such a nerd.” Vivica crawled over to the edge of the bed and plopped down onto her stomach. For a while, she laid there, arm draped over the edge like a lazy porch cat, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
Mephistopheles turned his head, his cheeks warming. “D-don’t gaze at me as if I’m some ball of yarn. Besides, isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to leave?”
Vivica pouted. “You’re so cold to me, Memphis. And here I thought we were a team?"
“For the last time, I have no idea what this Memphis, Tennessee is nor do I wish to be referred to it. And yes, that was the original plan, yet so far you’ve given me nothing,” he slammed down his fists. “Who cares about Beelzebub eating an entire tube of toothpaste or Mammon tripping face-first down the stairs while running from Lucifer?”
Vivica shrugged. “Hey, that’s A+ investigative journalism right there. Every day, I—a simple, powerless human—risks her life to give you these juicy stories. You should be thanking me.”
She was protecting them, of course. Vivica’s stories, though humorous, weren’t the least bit detrimental to the brother's (or Lucifer’s) reputation. Some may even find them endearing, heightening the public’s overall opinion of them even further. And he couldn’t have that.
Mephistopheles fell onto his back and closed his eyes. He really needed to reconsider his life choices, especially the ones that led to him being here.
*Several weeks ago*
This would be his biggest scoop yet. The human exchange student who managed to not only form pacts with five of the Devildom’s strongest demons, yet is allegedly having intimate relations with every single one. It was a rumor so rampant amongst the RAD student body that even those who didn’t attend knew the details.
Yet Mephistopheles wasn't the slightest bit surprised. Demons find it hard to resist temptation and humans are naturally curious, to their detriment, in most cases. And while witches and warlocks were a regular sight here in the Devildom, a mortal—who had no means of defending themselves—was a rare treat.
That’s why, despite his distaste for such places, Mephistopheles found himself outside The Fall, in an unbutton satin shirt that showed a bit too much of his chest and pants that road up to his nether regions every time he so much as breathed, yet to the other demons eye humping him as he strolled to the front of the line, he supposed he looked presentable enough for said establishment. His status didn’t hurt either, the bouncer letting him through without little issue. There were perks to being a nobleman, after all.
Inside The Fall was exactly as he expected: loud, dark, and suffocating. The air hung with all kinds of strange colored smokes and displeasing smells. The music, if you could even call it that, was nothing but a string of grating nonsense. He could barely see where he was going, having to shove himself through a sea of bodies, with one demon even telling him he had “a nice ass,” which wasn't entirely false, albeit uncouth.
Regardless, the target’s Devilgram showed that she was in the VIP section, grinning into the camera while holding a cocktail as large as her forearm and wearing a black dress that...was a bit too revealing for his tastes, yet admittedly well-tailored.
Indeed, this human, despite her alleged reputation, would be the key to his revival, to shatter the egos of both Lucifer and the rest of his little sycophants. After all, how much effort could manipulating a simple mortal possibly be? He passed Seduction 101 with flying colors. He knew their kinds’ weaknesses and was confident in exploiting them. He would build down her walls, grip her heart with his hands, and once he got what he needed, send her crying back to the House of Lamentation. It was the perfect plan, naturally.
Yet as Mephistopheles made his way up the stairs to the VIP section, he was immediately stopped by a guard. “Name,” they said plainly.
“Mephistopheles,” he paused. “I’m a friend of Mammon.”
“Well, you’re not on the list.”
“Is that so?” he stroked his chin. “Mephistopheles is a hard name to write and pronounce. Are you sure he didn’t put me down as something else? Or just forgot entirely? He does tend to get drunk early.”
The guard pressed his finger to his ear, mumbling into what looked to be a mini microphone. Soon after, the doors to the VIP room flung open, with a very drunk Mammon tumbling outward. “Oi, how many times do I hafta tell ya? This is a private party. Invite only. Don’t make me…” Mammon narrowed his eyes, then blinked. “Mephisto? The hell are ya doing in here?”
Mephistopheles smiled. “Hey there, Mam-Mam. I saw your Devilgram page and seeing as I had nothing better to do tonight, decided to come here. Mind if I join in?”
“Don’t call me Mam-Mam! And sure, I could let you in, but…” Mammon stuck out his hand, flexing his fingers.
Mephistopheles rolled his eyes. “You would think after all the times you’ve almost gotten me killed you’d owe me at least this once?”
“Sorry, bud. Money makes the world go round and unfortunately, you’re not on the list.”
Mephistopheles reached into the pocket of his pants and yanked out his D.D.D, and for a moment, tapped at the screen. With a final push of his thumb, he looked to Mammon. “There. Satisfied?”
Mammon’s ears perked up as he heard the notification of his D.D.D go off, grinning as he looked at the screen. “Tonight’s your lucky night, my dear old pal,” Mammon said, leading Mephistopheles in by the shoulders. “So don’t say I never did ya any favors. By the way, it’s open bar, and my dear brother Lucifer’s payin’ the tab.”
“By Lucifer you mean you used his name and didn’t tell him, correct?”
“So what’s your point?”
“Mammon, you truly are the greatest there is.”
“I know, right?”
********
Had Mephistopheles known leather pants were this uncomfortable he would’ve never purchased them. He’d bought them specifically for tonight's occasion, with the sales demon at Majolish stating that “Anyone who’s anyone is wearing them.”
He spat. That’s the last time he buys in-store brands. He’d given up on trying to sit at the bar, surrendering into a “half shoulder lean, half-standing” position, the fabric of his pants clutching to every nook and cranny imaginable. No wonder he had to swat away so many demons. He might as well be wearing nothing at all.
Speaking of pests, his target was currently being swarmed on all sides. From his research, there wasn’t anything truly spectacular about Ms. Vivica. She was, in all intents and purposes, an average human. It was her last year in college as a Visual Media major. She’s the second oldest of four siblings. She likes crab cakes, bourbon, and lavish spa treatments. Yet despite such, she’d somehow managed to obtain quite the little cult following at RAD.
Though as she laughed and bounced about the room, he supposed he could see her charm. A shiny, honest soul drew in demons like a bird to a nicely shined window. Yet it was getting in the way of his plan, a plan that was becoming less possible due to their fan club, and with Mammon and Asmodeus being the biggest roadblocks of them all.
Mephistopheles watched as both avatars squabbled with each other for what seemed to be the 10th time tonight. He'd never known either to be this unyielding, especially over something that wasn’t money or a new cosmetic release.
"I can’t believe you’d…” Asmodeus jabbed his finger into Mammon’s chest. “…what gives you the right to…?”
Mammon’s face soured. “I was her first demon, got it? She…so go cram a…”
…Honestly, how was he supposed to hear anything over this blasted music? Mammon mumbled something under his breath before clutching the human's arm, attempting to drag her towards the VIP exit, yet Asmodeus stepped in front of him, their faces inches apart.
But oh, what’s this? Vivica ripped herself away from Mammon, her red lips moving as if firing off a thousand curses. “What we're not about to do is...why is it that whenever we go somewhere you two…the hell I look like being dragged around...and don't you dare think I..."
It was like watching two puppies get smacked on the nose by their owner. If it weren't for the oxygen being slowly drained from his lungs, Mephistopheles might have laughed...ok, maybe just a little.
Mammon shot his sights toward the bar, his middle finger high and proud. "Yeah, yeah laugh…ya little…”
Asmodeus glared at Mammon. “I knew it! That’s why you let Mephisto in, so you could…and have all of RAD…you scummy…”
"Eh? The fuck are you…invite every demon in the Devildom yet the minute I..."
Clearly, this was going nowhere, and it looked as if Vivica agreed. She stormed towards the VIP exit, the two so enveloped within their argument that they hadn't noticed their precious human was now on the move. Yet just before reaching the archway, turned.
Such a look could mean anything, yet it held for too long for Mephistopheles not to act. An opportunity had arisen, and he was more than eager to follow her down the stairs, past the restrooms, through halls of drunken lovers, and to a corner obscured by a large pillar that provided little light, yet more importantly, cover from meddlesome eyes.
“Ms. Vivica,” Mephistopheles said softly, inching closer. “Please tell me if I’m being presumptuous, yet I could’ve sworn that little look you gave me earlier was meant for me to follow.”
“And a good evening to you too, Sir Mephistopheles,” Vivica pressed her back against the wall, appearing a bit too lax for someone being cornered by a demon. “And I’m sure you’ve done enough investigative journalism to know what a “signal” is, correct?”
A mouthy one, isn’t she? he thought. I'll have to rectify that later. For now, let's play along. He reached forward, a hand to stroke the smooth, brown skin of her cheek, the other rested at her side. Finally, he had succeeded with the first step of his plan. However, he couldn't help but be...vexed. Usually, the eyes held the key to one's true self: were they playful? Angry? Disgusted? Yet the longer Mephistopheles tried to decipher what exactly sat hidden within Vivica's gaze, the more his thoughts twirled and spun around. It was as if she had him trapped at the mercy of her own little dance, forever guessing and giving little in return. And though he wasn't sure if she noticed, but it was Mephistopheles who flinched.
Absolutely not! he stilled himself, continuing to press forward. No way was he the one being ambushed by a mere human.
“I assumed you’d be more…afraid,” Mephistopheles spoke.
“Oh? And why’s that?” Vivica smiled.
“You’re a human. We’re alone,” Mephistopheles traced the tip of his thumb against her round, full lips. “I could do all kinds of unspeakable things to you.”
“And what if I want you to do those unspeakable things?”
“Well then I…uh…”
…Vivica smoothed her hand across his abs, humming with a light approval. “Not bad. However, we need to do something about your hair.”
“Pardon?”
“Your style is way too sophisticated. It angers me. Ooh, one second,” she ruffled his hair with her hand, casually undoing the hours he put into it beforehand. Then with a satisfied pat, nodded. “There we go. Now you look more like a troublemaker.”
Well, that...happened. Yet not to worry, just continue to play it cool. “I find that ironic considering what I've heard about you.”
“Is that right? Honestly, can’t a woman have a little fun without the press sticking their nose into things?”
"Nonsense. I only came to you out of concern for your well-being. A pretty young woman like yourself shouldn’t be subjected to such stress-inducing situations. Now if you left with me…” he pressed his knee between her legs, “I’ll treat you exactly how you deserve.”
Vivica gave him a shrewd look, as if his words held as little value as the carpet beneath their feet. "Right. Sure you will.”
“But I'm serious. Nay, I nearly scooped you up from where you stood. To watch you so distraught was quite heartbreaking.”
“You mean you leaning uncomfortably against the bar like a dork? Speaking of which, your choice of outfit is awfully revealing,” she plucked at the waist of his pants, “not that I’m complaining or anything.”
Mephistopheles groaned. For someone currently at the mercy of a being half her size and physical ability, she didn't know when to quit. The fact she managed to live this long was astounding.
Vivica’s D.D.D rang. Stopped. Then rang again. “Should you…be answering that?” he pointed.
Vivica paused as if to ponder his question, only to once again ignore it. “I’m sure they’ll leave a message. Or several.”
“Whoever they are seem incredibly worried. Sounds like you have a very close relationship.”
She snicked. “You realize I've taken the same Seduction 101 course, right? I know about all your kinds' little tricks, so cut the shit and tell me why you're really here?"
Ok, so maybe she was a bit more perceptive than he initially assumed. If he wanted her help, he needed to gain her trust. Straightening himself together, Mephistopheles said, “Actually, you're right. The truth is I require a boon.”
Vivica lolled her head to the side. “What boon?”
“I would like for you to be my informant. As you know, I’ve been…released from my duties as newspaper club president. Yet if I can get a few good stories about the brothers, and maybe even the prince himself, they’ll have no choice but to allow me back my position.”
“Me and you a team, hmm?” Vivica’s thumb circled the button of his shirt. “And what makes you think I’d just sell out the brothers for some snooty rich boy who’s clearly still getting over his sugar daddy abandoning him?”
“S-sugar daddy?” Mephistopheles clenched his jaw, his veins pulsing. Does this human insist on pissing him off? He slammed the flat of his hands forward, causing the wall to tremble behind her. Still, the human did not flinch. Instead, she let out a breathy moan, which only made Mephistopheles hotter. “Listen here, you...tiny bizarre woman! I’ll have you know that the assets I do possess did not require sugaring of any kind!”
Vivica laughed. For a human, her canines were unusually sharp. “Calm down, it's just a joke. One I'm sure you've heard considering everyone at RAD laughs about..."
When Mephistopheles wanted, just one look alone was enough to put any lower demon in their place, yet for a human of Vivica's caliber...a giggling, giddy mess. Just...what the hell was this woman's deal?
"Ok, ok, I'll help you," she said, gathering herself. "Though I’ll need something from you in return.”
How many times was he to be extorted tonight? “I figured as much. I’ll provide you with as much Grimm as—“
—Vivica’s lips took their time to linger along his neck. Mephistopheles gasped, silently cursing himself as he felt the faint sensation of a smirk just beneath his ear.
“How about we make a deal?” Vivica whispered, the heat of her breath causing his pants to tighten. Any more of this and he’ll pop right out of them. “I’ll give you some silly story about the brothers and Lord Diavolo and in return, maybe sometimes, I meet up at your place.”
Mephistopheles mind crashed, then rebooted. “Are…are you propositioning me?”
Vivica sighed, her face suddenly serious. “Look, I live in a house with seven men. Seven men in which, despite what the entire Devildom claims, I haven’t fucked. I mean, not like I wouldn't want to. Have you seen Lucifer?"
"Unfortunately."
"Yet one shouldn't "sleep where they eat" if you catch my drift. Makes for a messy situation. Just imagine how hard it is for me? To be such a good, wholesome woman from a simple, Christian background—"
—Mephistopheles snorted—
“—A simple, Christian background," she repeated, "surrounded by the literal manifestations of sin itself? But alas, the Lord knows my spirit is weak. And if you plan on using me for your little vendetta, then I might as well get something out of the deal. An orgasm, preferably several.”
Mephistopheles cleared his throat. “Well then, this is a bit...unexpected. But what about the brothers? Surely they’ll be jealous.”
Vivica shrugged. “They'll get over it...maybe. I mean, how long can an immortal being of immeasurable power hold grudges?"
Mephistopheles was now between a rock and a very, very hard place. Would he really go through any means to reclaim his rightful position? On the plus side, sex! And a good amount of it, at that. Yet on the downside, the relentless ire of the seven most powerful demons the Devildom had ever seen...
...Then again, she did look really good in that dress.
“Fine,” he said. “You have a deal, hu—I mean, Vivica.”
“Yay! Alrighty then, let’s kiss on it.”
“Wait, what—“
—Oh. Oh my. A tongue like hers has surely melted a few hearts. The way she playfully parted his lips, biting and pulling, as if she’s done this a thousand times without the slightest bit of nerves, exploring his mouth as if to taste him whole. And as they continued to fondle each other in this shady corner of a horrid club, a small part of Mephistopheles faltered.
This could end up being a problem.
*Back to the present*
And so, here she was, the brothers' most coveted human, naked and slightly bruised atop his black, spider silk sheets. He "understood the assignment," as she’d like to tell him. She needed someone outside the circle she was accustomed to. Someone who she could fuck until satisfied and come morning, disappear into the Devildom shadows. No “I love yous,” no “you’re mines,” just a simple romp of consensual carnal pleasure, preferably at his place, for obvious reasons.
Vivica lifted herself from the bed and reached for her shirt, pulling it over her head. “Oh, and by the way, the brothers are this close to figuring you out. As I'm sure you're aware, demons have a heightened sense of smell, so you can only imagine how well that works out once I get home.”
Mephistopheles gave a shit-eating grin. "My dear, I haven't the slightest idea what you could possibly be referring to." Though he had no ill will against Mammon or even Satan, just the thought of all their faces in knowing that despite their attempts, not one has ever had the pleasure of tasting their sweet human, sent him into a high no Demonus could provide.
“Welp, guess it’s time to make my grand departure,” Vivica said, without the least bit of care in her voice. Mephistopheles frowned. She could at least pretend to like his company.
And as her legs swung over the side, his stomach swelled. He wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that she didn't truly need him or the fact that he had to beat down this...feeling growing inside him. "You know, it's dangerous to play around with demons," he said, which came out as less of a warning and more of an attempt to be noticed.
"You know what I find really terrifying?" Vivica said, fluffing out her afro puffs with her fingers. "There are people who on their death beds, look back on their lives and think "Damn! I wasted all that time living completely in fear."
"Yet shouldn't fearing demons be a reasonable response?"
"Eh. I know a couple of humans that can give you demons a run for your money." Vivica then stood up and smoothed down the front of her shirt. "Though I wouldn't expect a being who's lived for thousands of years to understand my mortal reasoning, this is how I choose to live my life. And if I do die, then hey, it was fun.”
Mephistopheles smirked. It wouldn't be the first time he’s held a soft spot for a human. And as the story goes, so too, will this end horribly.
But until then...
…Mephistopheles finally stood from the floor of his bedroom and scoffed. By the wondering of her eyes, it didn't take much to tell what she wanted. “Just like a human. Completely one tracked minded.”
“And just like a demon, a complete liar.” Vivica inched her finger, smiling. “But before I leave, let me taste you one last time.”
…until then, this would be enough.