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"Fuckin' bludgers, the whole lot! What do they take me for? I'm running a business, not some bloody fuckin' charity!"
"Mhm," you hummed in reply, nodding along in agreement but wisely refraining from making any real input.
Mammon, King of Greed, was in a Mood (TM), but then that was nothing new. The particular bug up his generously proportioned ass today was the ongoing strike by warehouse workers over in Ransom City. Now he was nothing if not Hell's champion union buster, but these demons were an especially tenacious bunch. It did not help that the union was being backed by the local mafia -- fiscally and physically -- and bodying every sorry scab who tried to cross the picket line.
"You do and do for them," he whined, his fingers fidgeting and running through your hair like an irate and oversized comb, "and it's never enough!"
"Mhm." You butted your head against his palm, huffing a little and nuzzling against the peachfuzz fur there. He pulled you closer and tightened his hold on you in an instinctive if absent-minded way, much as a bratty child might squeeze their teddy bear in a tantrum. While he fairly squeezed the breath out of you, the warmth and weight of him around you more than made up for it.
"It's medical insurance this, dental that! They need 'worker's comp,' they need a 'living wage!'" The vicious air quotes he made with his free hands could have cut steel. He radiated static that made both his fur and the flannel-covered, web-like bed beneath the two of you crackle rather alarmingly. When his claws accidentally brushed against the metal bangle at your wrist, you had to bite your lip to repress a yelp at the sudden shock.
"You give them an inch, and then they rail you up the ass the whole fuckin' mile!"
Your position from down in his lap afforded a lovely view of him as he ranted. His white fur was flushed the lightest grey with his anger. Little bolts of static wreathed him like a janky knockoff halo, the points of his hat flopping and jingling. His face was scrunched up into what could only be called a pout, black lips pursed and round cheeks puffed out. Though you knew better than to ever say so out loud, Mammon was positively adorable.
There was a brief pause in his tirade, and it was that moment you felt you could safely redirect him a little. Before he could draw breath to continue, you stretched languidly from where you lay across his belly. Your tail twitched where it lay across his thighs, and yours horns brushed up under his chin. You moaned softly as you settled again, turning your head to rub your cheek against his chest. Fuck, but he was so soft.
Cracking one eye open, you peered up at him and chittered under your breath. At last he seemed to notice you were there and glance down at you. His pout softened into a cheeky smirk at the look on your face. He knew when he was being ogled and admired, and he knew just exactly what a look like that meant from you.
"Speakin' of which," he continued, voice melting into a purr. One claw came to tickle lightly under your chin and then pointedly tip your face up. "You wanting something from me, pet?"
"Just you," you sighed. You swept your tail back and forth again, lingering over the hard warmth you could feel forming beneath his boxers. One of his hands instantly came down to squeeze your backside and hold you firmly against him.
"Oh, bless your sweet little cunt." He leaned down and chuckled darkly in your ear, jingling slightly as he moved. "Always know just what I want to hear." His shifted down to grab hold of your thighs and pry them apart. Sitting you so that you were straddled across his lap, he leaned down to nip at the base of your throat. "Now fuckin' show me how you want it."
He certainly did not need to tell you twice. As usual, you were the one doing most of the work as he leaned back and simply basked in the moment. For a while he let you do as you wished, grinding and nuzzling and panting against him in a directionless, lustful worship. The bed wobbled in time with your movements. You could feel him shiver just a little beneath you, as much from your mere attention as from your frenzied motion over his crotch. Still, he was Greed personified, and it was not long before he was demanding more.
"Want some relief, pet?" Mammon purred, pushing down on your shoulders with one pair of hands and carding through your hair with another as you nodded frantically. "You're going to have to bloody earn it, then. You know nothing's free with me."
Shivering, you let yourself side down his front until your face was even with his crotch. Your palmed him through his boxers, feeling him twitching and grow harder underneath your touch. You took no small amount of pride in the way his hips instantly bucked against you, and the only reason you did not go flying off with the force of it was the near stranglehold he kept on your body.
"Don't you dare tease me, pet," he huffed, thoroughly flustered as he bit as his lower lip.
No point in making him wait, then. You shucked his boxers right down and went straight to work.
Scarcely half an hour later saw the pair of you in a spent, wheezing mess on the bed. You lay breathless on your belly, hands still clenched in the green-and-white sheets. Mammon lay on top of you, limbs sprawled and panting and doing the work of a dozen weighted blankets. He dropped his head on top of yours, the warmth of his sweat-drenched fur seeping into your horns. When you eventually moved to slip out from under him, he only grabbed at you and pulled you right back.
"Stay your ass right there, you little shit," he growled into your shoulder. He sounded perhaps a little less menacing than he might have liked, voice still hoarse in a post-sex haze.
"Yes, sir~" you breathed. You dared a sly grin over your shoulder at him. He snarled a little in warning as you wriggled and twisted so that you were on your back and facing him, his weight still bearing down on you. When you did not try to get away again, his growling died down to a rumble. He dragged his tongue in a long, wet stroke over your collar bone and roughly rubbed his cheek against your own.
You reached up, locking your arms behind his head and burying your hands in his plush fur, and pulled him in for a proper kiss. He was happy enough to oblige you, thrusting his forked tongue to tangle with your own. Mammon took your breath, just as he took his pleasure from you, just as he greedily took everything you ever had to give him. You were his greatest indulgence, his sweet little pet, his and only his to play with.
"Don't start thinking you can shag and sass me now," he grumbled afterwards, rolling on his side and pillowing his head against your middle.
"Of course not," you cooed, flicking a bell on his hat once before stroking his head as he began to nod off to sleep. "Wouldn't dream of it."