Capítulo 97: An Unexpected Love (Gargoyles)
A/N: An Unexpected Love was a commissioned one-shot originally written back in July of 2018. Posting it here now for people to enjoy!
Themes: Loving Sex, Cunnilingus, Fucked Silly
-x-X-x-
She would never have suspected things would come to this. After the destruction of her clan at the hands of the very same Viking Raiders she'd allowed into the castle, Demona had been despondent. Though, she hadn't been Demona then. No, it wasn't until later that she would gain such a name, after so many battles, so much time had passed.
The gargoyle hated humans, if she was being honest. She hated humanity. But even after fleeing the site of her clan's murder, even after finding a new family, Demona had ultimately found herself allying with a human once more, as a basic necessity. Macbeth. The man was… tolerable, for a human anyways. Together, they'd dealt with their common enemy, Gillecomgain. And then later on, they'd entered into a bargain that saw the both of them bound to one another, rendered immortal.
Macbeth had done it for his Kingdom, but Demona would not lie. She had mostly selfish motivations, at least at first. She'd wanted her youth back, she'd wanted her beauty back. Still, she'd also wanted to lead the last of her kind, the last gargoyles that she could say for sure existed in the world. Demona had known that she had to be strong for them. She'd known that they needed her. And if it meant making a pact with a human, she would do it in order to be rejuvenated.
And thus she was. Made young again by the binding of her and Macbeth, secure in the knowledge that neither could die by any hand but the other's, she'd continued to fight alongside him, defending her clan and his lands as Macbeth did the same with his lands and her clan. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship… but it was not a romantic one.
It was far too soon after the loss of her mate for Demona to even entertain the thought of such a thing, especially with a human. Though, none of her new clan particularly interested her in that way either. They would mate among themselves in an effort to continue the clan and the gargoyle-kind, but Demona would not join them. She had no room in her heart left to feel that kind of love, that kind of happiness.
All she had remaining was determination. Or so she thought. Because… because then there was Marcus. Marcus was nothing. He was nobody. A simple warrior in Macbeth's army, a young man in a time when the majority of Macbeth's forces were aging past their eternal leader's appearance, growing old where Macbeth did not. He would have to replace the elderly men amongst his forces, and Marcus was one of the first to join up when the call arrived.
The young man had a fire to him… and a handsomeness as well. Tall and fair skinned, with black hair and blue eyes… he was passable, for a human. Demona wasn't drawn to most of his features, but his eyes… those cerulean pools set into his face, she noticed them the first time she saw him, watched as his gaze moved to her.
But rather than seeing badly concealed disgust or revulsion in his gaze, Demona was surprised to see… interest and curiosity. After a moment of the two of them just staring at one another, Marcus smiled and dipped his head in a courteous nod before turning his attention elsewhere. He acknowledged that he'd been caught out staring but didn't seem particularly abashed or afraid about it.
That intrigued her, she couldn't deny it. This human male piqued HER curiosity as well. In the battles that followed, Demona watched him from afar, usually helping with the ranged assault unless the situation got truly dire. Macbeth didn't want to use his limited gargoyle forces unless he truly had to, because while she and her kind were a force multiplier in combat on the battlefield, they also weren't completely unkillable.
Though, she was. But Macbeth didn't want that known either, and to be fair, Demona would prefer to keep her immortality a secret as well, for as long as possible. Her clan was already starting to notice her agelessness, but they were loyal and revered her as their leader, as the gargoyle who had brought them together, saving each of them from an otherwise ignoble fate. They wouldn't care about her immortality, when she finally dined to tell them.
Marcus… Marcus was a whirlwind on the battlefield. Even as a young man, he proved to be a fighter without peer. The way he swung that sword of his, the way it flashed through the air, his iron cutting into armor and flesh without pause as he moved among his enemies… Demona wanted to know more about the young man who seemed not to care who and what she was, about the young man who could fight and win against seemingly insurmountable odds.
Luckily, she didn't have to wait long for her chance. In a world where every battle saw casualties no matter how overwhelming your armies' strength, a soldier and warrior like Marcus rose quickly. Every fight he survived saw him living where some of his comrades… and superiors did not. As a result, he was quickly promoted for his skill and his bravery in the face of death. He fought for Macbeth with all his heart, and he fought for his comrades as well.
Demona didn't have to say a word to the man she was bound to in order to raise Marcus' station… Macbeth would have been a fool to ignore the young soldier, and Macbeth was no fool. Once Marcus was an officer, Demona could approach him. She could speak with him. And she chose to exercise that right.
That was where it truly began. Marcus was unlike most humans. He was not wary of gargoyles, nor was he distrusting of them. In all fairness, she and her clan had served with Macbeth for many years now, and much of the human's army had accepted them… but Demona knew how forced that was in many of the men who her gargoyles fought alongside.
They didn't trust her or her kind. Or they resented them for Macbeth's decision to hold them in reserve, as if her and her gargoyles had more value than his common soldiers. Which they did… but Marcus didn't seem to care about that. But then, he lived for the battle. Demona realized that quite swiftly in their talks together. He was intensely curious about her kind and even her personally, but when she turned the conversation to him, there wasn't much Marcus liked to discuss more about himself than his enjoyment of wielding a blade against the enemies of Macbeth.
He was a battle junkie, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. And at first, that pushed Demona away a little bit. She'd never truly reveled in battle. And honestly, Marcus practically embodied what she considered the worst of humanity. Their bloodlust. Their desire for death and destruction. Their need to wage war and leave ruin in their wake. It was what had pushed the gargoyles as a species to the brink of death. It was what had seen her original clan destroyed…
But overtime, Demona began to realize Marcus was different. His desire to fight didn't come from a place of darkness. It didn't come from a need to kill or cause bloodshed. No, the young soldier had been a fighter from practically the time he was born. And he'd always been talented with a blade. This was his life, and he lived it well… but he did so because he knew he could put his skills at martial combat towards protecting the lands of his birth, the lands of his liege.
So long as Macbeth needed him to fight the myriad of enemies that surrounded their lands, Marcus would answer the call. And given that Demona would do the same thanks to her pact with the human leader, could she really claim they were any different. This realization led to Demona seeing Marcus in a different light. She found herself spending more and more time with the blue-eyed young man. His gorgeous pupils drew her in, but it was his wit and his charm that made the budding friendship between them worth watering, worth nurturing.
She wasn't sure when it happened, but there came a time when Demona found herself putting her trust in Marcus. She told him things about herself. Not everything, not her culpability in the death of her original clan, but she did explain some of her past and why humanity as a whole disgusted her, while he specifically stood out among the rest.
He didn't have much in the way of a defense for his kind, amusingly enough. He merely listened to what she had to say and commiserated with her on her loss. Marcus knew what his people were capable of. He knew what humans were like. Hell, he fought them every day under Macbeth's command. But even still, Demona knew that most in his position would still try to defend their race as a whole, would close ranks before someone… something that was not of their species.
Marcus was not like that though. He was not so close-minded. Perhaps that was why they made such easy friends. Perhaps that was why even now, even with an army on Macbeth's doorstep, Demona did not take her all-too-powerful eyes off of Marcus down below, as he fought and fought and fought for his liege and the castle that Macbeth made his home.
The battle was not proving to be an easy one. But then, any army that could reach this far into Macbeth's lands and besiege his castle directly was not going to be a pushover. Demona could tell, just by watching the fighting, that she and her kin would need to intervene at some point to turn the tide. But Macbeth was stubborn. His last 'order' to her had been to sit tight and wait for the proper signal.
Normally, Demona would be fine with that. What did she care if he wanted to waste some of his soldiers in making the enemy over-extend so that when she and her clan finally moved in, they could cause maximum destruction and chaos among the ranks of their foes? Except… except Marcus was down there. He was down there fighting for his liege, but more than that he was fighting for his life.
And as she watched him, as she watched the dark-haired human bring down enemy after enemy, she noticed the foes sneaking up in the shadows that he did not. A strange clenching sensation fills Demona's chest, and before she truly knows what she's doing, she's rising from the crouched position she's taken up on the castle's palisades.
Her clan, all around her, look to her in surprise. She glances left and right and snarls only one word before dropping down.
"Stay."
As her clan obeys her, Demona flares her wings and dives towards the human male who has so drawn her attention these past months. She dives towards the enemies who are even now preparing to ambush him from behind, her teeth bared, and her claws and talons extended as she lets out a screech that draws the eyes of half the battlefield up towards her.
But only Marcus' eyes matter. Only those gorgeous blue irises, almost glowing in the torchlight that covers the dimly lit battlefield, draw her attention.
-x-X-x-
Marcus has always been a fighter. Demona wasn't wrong about that. But he'd never been much of a believer. Oh sure, he paid homage to God because Macbeth did, and Macbeth was his liege… but Marcus wasn't all that convinced of a higher power. Maybe if he'd been raised to be more religious, maybe if some priest had told him his natural-born talent with arms was a gift from God himself, Marcus might have become some sort of holy knight or crusader bent on spreading the good word.
But he wasn't. He was raised by thieves and vagabonds, raised on the streets by the worst that the world had to offer him. And while he'd escaped that life, Marcus had seen enough to feel that there was no such thing as a higher power. Only those who had power, and those who didn't. But as he stood on that battlefield, surrounded on all sides, fighting for his life, a screech from above saw Marcus looking up and seeing the closest thing to an Angel he'd ever witness.
Demona, the gargoyle that he'd become friends with over the past months, dove into the fray in that moment. And as she fought, he very nearly lost his head watching her, mesmerized by her skill, by her strength, by the raw power behind her ferocious attacks. She was most certainly not human, but Marcus could have cared less as he watched her absolutely annihilate their enemies.
"Marcus! Behind you!"
Whirling about, the young man defends himself against the attacker who had hoped to take his head while he was distracted. Demona had not only saved him once, but twice in the span of a few moments. Grinning somewhat ridiculously, Marcus found himself fighting back to back with the gargoyle… or at least, metaphorically speaking. It was hard to fight back to back with a creature who had the power of flight.
Demona was all over the place, a veritable whirlwind of violence and death and… it was beautiful, in a way. Having her flip over his head, raking her claws through armor, rending flesh with those gorgeous talons of hers. Marcus… Marcus was in love. Was that wrong to say? No, no it wasn't. He wasn't saying it out loud after all, he was merely admiring his friend from afar as she cut through the enemy army like a scythe through wheat.
His feelings for the gargoyle had long been real. There was no denying that. But she'd spoken to him many a night about her past, about her hatred for humans. He knew he was special, at least in her eyes… but certainly not THAT special. Obviously not. They were just friends, and he was happy to have that much with her.
Focusing his attention back on the battle raging on around them, Marcus swings his sword. There's not much else he can do. The fighting is fierce, and the army that has come to Macbeth's door is a large one, seemingly uncountable. However, it's not long before a horn sounds from the castle behind them. Then, Demona's clan takes to the field, and the battle is all but a foregone conclusion.
One gargoyle was a force-multiplier, especially when that gargoyle was Demona herself, all claws and talons and wings as she flew this way and that. But an entire clan of gargoyles? The attacking army was routed within the hour as humans and gargoyles worked together to end the threat to their home. Marcus continued to fight until there were no foes left for him to fight. He was there on the front lines at Demona's side as they pushed their enemies back and back and back some more.
Eventually, their foes finally broke and fled. It was then that Marcus turned back, just as Demona herself did. There was no glory, no honor to be had in chasing down a fleeing enemy. And while some of Macbeth's army would do so anyways, Marcus would not be among them. He was tired, hungry, thirsty… all around exhausted. It was time to get some food and water, and then some rest.
However, before he could fully make it back to the castle, he was stopped by a familiar set of claws on his shoulder. Marcus looks back at Demona, blinking his big blue eyes dumbly.
"What? What is it?"
The gargoyle leader was looking at him like she'd never seen him before. Marcus didn't honestly know how to categorize the expression on her inhuman face. He'd gotten pretty good at reading her moods these last few months, but right now Demona was unreadable.
"… Come with me, Marcus."
He considers protesting. She'd surely understand if he told her how tired he was, how exhausted he was. But she was his friend, and more than that, he thought he might love her to the very depths of his soul. Despite his loyalty to Macbeth, if Demona asked it of him, Marcus was fairly certain he'd follow her to the ends of the earth, no matter the reason.
Letting out a low sigh, the young man nods and follows the gargoyle as she leads him into the castle and up a flight or stairs. They end up in what he knows to be her personal quarters. Here, she has a bed and a table and chairs, as well as some bookcases. All the normal furnishings of a human. From what he knew, she barely ever used the room for it's intended purpose, but so long as she was allied with Macbeth, she would be treated with the respect owed someone of her station.
As such, he was both a little surprised and also entirely not when there was food and wine already waiting for them in her room. She gestured towards the meal on one side of the table and Marcus barely wasted any time in tearing what he could of his armor off of his body before settling down in the chair and digging in. He might have been willing to follow Demona anywhere, but if she was going to lead him right to food and drink… well, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.
The gargoyle leader partook as well of course, tearing nice big chunks out of the mutton on her own place, ripping into it with those sharp teeth in her mouth. But her eyes never strayed from him, and Marcus noticed even as he focused entirely on eating his food, waiting for her to make the next move. He didn't know exactly what was happening here. Perhaps she needed him to act as her confidant again.
She had saved his life down on the battlefield below though, more times than he could really count. That would have been his final fight without a doubt, if not for Demona's intervention. Should he say something? Should he thank her? Would she appreciate it, or would she not? Eventually, having drained his goblet of wine and eaten his full of food, Marcus feels a new strength filling him. Liquid courage, he supposed. Swallowing his last mouthful, the young soldier finally stands up, looking to Demona as she too rises from the seat that barely fit her form and certainly didn't fit her wings.
For a moment, they just stood across from one another in silence, before finally Marcus tried to break it.
"Demona, I…"
However, before he can get out another word, the female gargoyle lunges forward, and he finds himself being kissed by the gorgeous, beautiful creature as she cradles his head in her clawed hands. He's well aware of the power and fury behind those claws, but he's not afraid in the slightest, his hands moving to her sides, his fingers wrapping around her waist as he kisses her back immediately.
Demona's tongue is longer than his. He notices this almost instantly, amusingly enough. But that doesn't stop him from trying to give as good as he gets. The pair of them make out needily, both of them not holding back their feelings. He knew how he felt about the gargoyle leader… but he had no idea she felt anywhere near the same.
Eventually, they pull back for breath. Demona looks at him with wide eyes, and he stares right back at her. Marcus imagines he has the same look on his own face as he sees on hers as he licks his lips. But before he can speak, she places a claw against said lips.
"I… I did not know what you had become to me… not until tonight. Marcus, you are… you have snuck into my heart and made a home for yourself there. But you should know now, I love fiercely and hotly. If... if this is to happen, then I will not take kindly to betrayal, nor rejection if you change your mind in the future."
It's unnecessary, but he truly does appreciate her honesty. A smile spreads across Marcus' face as she removes her claw, allowing him to speak. But he doesn't give her a verbal answer. Instead, the young man slowly descends to his knees before her. Demona watches him in silence, and he continues to stare up at her with his cerulean pupils, even as he pulls aside her loincloth, exposing her genitals.
There lie her pussy lips, glistening slightly. She's wet for him, and if anything else, that turns Marcus on even more. She's aroused, and she has been, perhaps since they fought side by side on the battlefield.
"What… what are you doing?"
Still he does not answer her, at least not in the way she's expecting. Instead, Marcus slides his hands off of Demona's waist and down to her shapely ass. He grips the gargoyle's butt cheeks harshly, and pulls her in, even as he leans forward. His nose bumps against her clit, and his lips brush over her slit. And then his tongue slides out and slips into her cunt right then and there.
A gasp followed by a moan leaves Demona's mouth as she instinctively reaches down and grabs at his head, curling clawed fingers into his dark hair. But Marcus barely reacts to that. Even now, his eyes are slid up her body, peeking out from just around her shapely bust as he looks into her shocked gaze. Her face is flushing with embarrassment and hopefully arousal, and her mouth is open as she breathes unevenly.
Marcus doesn't stop. He doesn't hesitate, he doesn't slow down. Instead, though he's relatively inexperienced in the art of lovemaking, he works his tongue in and out of Demona's wet slit to his heart's content. He's not done this very many times before. When he came of age, one of his… teachers, for lack of a better word, put the money forward to buy him a whore. The whore had been happy to let him do whatever he wanted to her… but she hadn't been prepared for him to use his time on her to find out what made HER tick.
A tongue in the cunt was the way to the heart of most women, from what Marcus had discovered that night. Afterwards, he'd left the whore out of breath and filled with his seed… but that was the sole woman he'd laid with until now. His was not to be a man constantly flitting in and out of the bed of maidens and matrons alike. No, Marcus' life was meant to be spent on a battlefield, and he'd long since accepted, even embraced that fact.
This though… this felt right in a way nothing else ever had. Demona's words echo in Marcus' thoughts as he eats out the panting, moaning gargoyle. Fiercely, hotly. That was what she'd said of her love. And Marcus would be a liar if he tried to say he wasn't intrigued by that. He didn't want to just have a fling with the female gargoyle. He didn't want to just use her and then abandon her. He wasn't going to reject her, nor was he going to leave her.
He… he loved her. And now that he knew she felt the same way for him, Marcus had only one intention, and that was to show her all the pleasure that he could. Even exhausted as he is, he has the strength left for this.
"Marcus… M-Marcus… oh, b-by the heavens!"
Looking up at Demona's face as he is, the blue-eyed young soldier sees the moment where she loses control as her head tilts back and her eyes drift shut. He also feels it down below, as she bucks into his lashing tongue and grinds against his questing mouth, before ultimately releasing her pussy juices all over his face. She climaxes hard, and a cry splits the air that's distinctly inhuman. But Marcus is simply more aroused than ever, even as Demona growls and suddenly drags him from the ground.
It's not a growl of anger, but one of pure, unadulterated lust. More physically powerful than him by a fair margin, Marcus isn't surprised when Demona easily tosses him onto the unused, four-poster bed behind her. His clothing is torn from him with sharp claws, but the flesh beneath, including his manhood, is left untouched, thankfully. Demona ends up atop him as his erection springs free, and she gasps as she rubs her slit against his girth.
"S-So big… so thick and large. You're always so full of surprises, Marcus~"
Demona's tone is breathy as she glides her wet cunt along his massive member. He's always known he was larger than most men in this department. The whore had told him that much as well. But it'd never really been a point of pride for him or anything like that. At least, not until now. With a needy growl, Demona lifts herself up until his cockhead ends up nestled between her waiting pussy lips. Then, staring him in the eye, the gargoyle drops herself down his shaft right then and there.
A moan immediately leaves the female gargoyle's mouth, but it's overshadowed by the groan that escapes from Marcus' lips. Demona's passage feels like heaven around his cock, her inner walls squeezing down on his length as she immediately begins to bounce up and down on his shaft. Every time she slams back down onto his member, she buries more and more of him inside of herself. It's wondrous, beyond anything he could hope for… but the young soldier isn't the kind of man who sits back and does nothing.
He's all too happy to let Demona take the lead here, but he knows all about dead fish, be they male or female… and he has no intention of being one. His fingers grip at the gargoyle's sides, even as he thrusts up with his hips and all of his strength. His thick, massive member pounds upwards into Demona's cunt at the same time that the gargoyle is slamming back down, leading to even more of his large length ending up buried inside of her.
Eventually, she hits the base of his cock and the moment their flesh slaps against each other, Demona cums from the feeling of his cockhead smashing into the entrance of her womb. The orgasm is intense and explosive and absolutely amazing… it takes every bit of Marcus' will power to control himself and hold back from the release that wants to escape his throbbing, pulsating cock.
But he wants more… specifically, he wants more of Demona's pleasure, more of the cute noises she makes when she cums. He wants her to scream her ecstasy as she rides him, and if he cums too soon, then he might just miss out on that. So instead, Marcus holds back. He holds back for as long as he can, even as he continues to give his all to thrusting upwards as Demona rides his massive, thick member.
Where he's holding back, the female gargoyle seems to see no need. She cums again and again along his member, allowing her climaxes to crest naturally, never resisting the pleasure that she's drawing from him. In the end, that proves to be Marcus' undoing. How can he possibly fight against the growing tides, the endless sea? Her inner walls clench and cling to him so fiercely, so tightly, that ultimately, she milks his seed from him, working her way past his resistance without even knowing it.
Marcus groans as he cums inside of Demona. Demona in turn cries out as his white, hot cum paints her insides, filling her to the brim. One last orgasm wracks her body as he explodes inside of her, and then she falls forward onto his chest, panting heavily and catching her breath. Marcus does the same… but even as he holds her to him, even as they look into one another's eyes, the both of them flustered beyond belief… he realizes they're not done.
He can see it in Demona's gaze… and he can feel it in his own body. His cock remains hard inside of the female gargoyle, much to his surprise. He's already ready to go another round, and he can tell Demona knows this, even as she draws herself up off of his cock. As he sits up, she places herself on all fours, and presents herself to him. As he moves into a kneeling position, the gargoyle looks back over her shoulder at him and smiles, wiggling her ass this way and that.
He can't resist. How could he possibly resist? Even with his cum already leaking from her pussy lips, Marcus lines up his cock with her cunt. He presses inwards on her cream-filled, drooling quim, and he slides into her easy-to-access, slick passageway without any issue. Inch by inch, he buries his hard, throbbing member in her freshly fucked cunt all over again, this time from behind.
Demona arches her back and flares out her wings as he leans over her and molds his body to her own. His hands, once he's fully inside of her, come up around her and grab at her chest, pulling the wrappings covering her breasts away. He gropes and kneads those beautiful mammaries, even as the gorgeous gargoyle moans underneath him.
"More, Marcus… more."
She sounds breathless, but also needy… and Marcus is all too happy to give her exactly what she wants. His cock thrusts forward, and she cries out as he hits a particularly sensitive part of her insides. He begins to fuck her from behind like that, his fingers digging into her breasts. But he's always aware of just who he's plowing senseless. Demona is not one to be trifled with. Regardless of their positioning in this moment, she is not a bitch, not a slut, and certainly not a whore. She is a gargoyle, leader among what remains of her people. She is a creature beyond his reckoning, a power beyond his strength.
And she wants him. It fills Marcus with a strange sort of happiness, knowing that Demona has chosen him to give her love to. For so long, he's simply been happy to be within her presence. She is a beauty, a gorgeous being that he's just been thrilled to be near, regardless of their relationship. But now he knows that she wants him as much as he wants her, and as she pushes her hips back into him, Marcus can't help but speed up his thrusts, his fucking of the female gargoyle getting rather sporadic and rough as he mauls her tits.
The sex is brutal, but Demona's body is not that of some human woman. He couldn't do any damage to her with his bare-hands no matter how hard he tried. In the end, all he can do is bring her pleasure. And pleasure he brings her, as she cums along his thrusting, pistoning prick time and time again. She cries out her happiness, her ecstasy, her bliss… and Marcus luxuriates in it, enjoying every sound that he draws from the gargoyle leader's mouth as he fucks her with all his might.
But even now, she's still actively participating. Just like he did when he was beneath her. Demona rams her hips back into his thrusting member with bruising force, and Marcus does his best to match her blow for blow as his length disappears into her sopping wet cunt time and time again. Her tight, gripping pussy walls cling and clench at his member, until ultimately, she milks him of his release once more.
This time, Marcus doesn't try to fight it. He doesn't hold back, not even a little. His second release still takes a little while longer than the first, but when it arrives he takes a page out of Demona's book and simply lets it happen. His seed spills into the female gargoyle for the second time that night, and his cum pumps directly into her womb. She hisses in satisfaction, and together, the two of them fall forward onto the bed as exhaustion begins to take them both.
Before they fall asleep however, Demona slides onto her back, and Marcus ends up resting his head against the gargoyle's breast as she cuddles him close. He's not at all emasculated by the move… he's well aware that Demona is slightly larger than him. She's not human, and he can't ever expect her to be human. Regardless, Marcus is happy. Happy than he's ever been before, to his shock.
He thought he'd been satisfied with fighting for Macbeth. But this? This new love between him and Demona? It was just so much more than a battle, so much more than killing the enemies who threatened his liege and his birthlands. Macbeth might have had his loyalty, but Demona had his heart and his soul… and Marcus wasn't sure that would ever change.
-x-X-x-
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