Marriage Made in ...? a Darkstalkers Lemon fic by Sahari The Masters felt the surge of power as the spiritual doors to the Makai opened, and smiled at each other in anticipation of their Mistress' return. Those who had scoffed that she would be triumphant in the Ningenkai would surely feel her wrath now! They were relieved that the noble blood of the Aenslaed still ran true even in the youngest of their number. "Mistress!" The swelling shout went up as the actual physical doors opened and Morrigan strode through, her battle dress already resolving about her into the casual lines of loose white blouse and tight red pants -- "Morrigan fashion" they were beginning to call it. Those who had been unwilling to ally themselves to her, even to aid her in some small fashion, were silent and resentful . . . and beginning to be a little afraid. But even as the first glad cry rose, it dwindled almost as fast. Morrigan was not alone. Someone large, dark and feral came in right behind her . . . almost beside her. Silence settled over the inhabitants of the great meeting hall as they began to wonder who this person was. "Mistress Morrigan!" the eldest master called. "We are glad in your triumph. Surely you have conquered. Surely you have --" Then he understood who he was seeing at her side . . . at her SIDE??? "Demitri Maximoff! Mistress, why have you brought this outcast, this rebel, into the Demon World? Your greatest rival, the enemy of our family . . . " Morrigan stood dead center of the hall, a small mischievous smile making at least half of the observers cringe inwardly, wondering what plans were going through her devious mind. A smiling Morrigan was rarely a good thing for any who opposed her. "You are mistaken, Elder, if you think I have brought an enemy among us. I have not. This is my ally, my husband, and soon to be king of the demon realms." Gentle reader, you might imagine the uproar to this announcement, from resentful vassal families and relatives both, while Morrigan stood, smiling. She turned that smile to her tall companion, and with turquoise eyes gleaming, said: "I told you this would be fun." Demitri merely grinned. Ah, she loved that grin, full of fierce passion and a mouthful of sharp vampire teeth. She had felt those teeth, only a few hours before, sinking into her . . . mm, even the memory made her feel lighter. She hadn't felt so alive . . . in a long time. "I hesitate to correct you, Lady," he said in a low voice for her ears alone, "but I am not technically your husband . . . yet . . . " The grin remained, widened in fact, for Demitri did not have to say what act would complete the union. She knew. Marriage was a rather simple affair among demons, usually more for gains of title, property or power than for love, but even such cold-blooded marriage had to begin with the act of intimacy. It was proof that both parties were honest in their intentions to make a partnership, even to produce children from it. "Ah, but you wouldn't kill my enjoyment of announcing it rather early?" she asked and batted her eyes at him in a coquettish manner so unlike her that he laughed aloud. His laughter rang in the silence that suddenly settled, uneasily, in the chamber. "Mistress -- " "You can talk among yourselves. I care not." She put her hands on her hips and regarded the demons about her, more than half of them ancient beyond reckoning. "I went into the human world to defend our realms. I went alone; no one helped me. I went gladly, for a true demon loves to fight that which proves a challenge. I even considered not returning, for I have come to realize that we have turned into pathetic beings . . . more interested in gain than glory, more interested in self-protection than honor. I have found someone whom I can respect. I do not care what you personally think of this. Whatever you would say to me would not change my decisions or my feelings in the slightest." Demitri slid his eyes at her upon hearing this remarkable speech. Ah, a woman after my own heart, he thought with rough affection. Beautiful and blood thirsty, and worth more than all the demons in the Makai. An absolute treasure. "Lady Morrigan," a sarcastic voice rang down. Demitri cast a dark eye on the speaker, one of the young males on his own balcony, a nobleman by the look of it. "You've rejected marriage with all houses in our realms, refusing men whose blood was noble and true, and you would marry this warmonger . . . this mongrel above the rest of us? He has been cast out by your very family for attempting what he gains with you . . . you will hand over the demon world on a platter for his consumption?" Morrigan turned a displeased face to Demitri. "Husband, do you care to respond to this?" she asked. "With pleasure," the vampire lord replied. Hardly glancing at the demon in question, he added: "For fools such as this forfeit their lives to you." A bold of energy burst from one arm and sent the demon flying from his high balcony to land with a cracking thud onto the floor in front of them. "For you, Lady." "Demitri, you truly know how to please a woman," Morrigan said, smiling at the crippled demon at her feet. "Consider it a courtship gift." "I didn't know you were such a romantic." "You can bring out the worst in a man." "Oh I really enjoy this witty repartee." She glanced at the demons above and around them. "Any other comments? No? What a surprise." She slipped her slender arm through his and motioned for the eldest of her advisors to follow, while saying to no one in particular: "Ahh! I'm so longing for a relaxing bath and some time alone with my husband." Once in the private corridors of the castle, her advisor did not waste words. "Lady, if this is your will, I can hardly stop you; you after all have done more for our realm in the last fifty years than your predecessors have done in a thousand. However, if this is the path to take, I suggest you consummate the marriage immediately before any dissenters have time to try to annul it." Demitri studied the wrinkled old demon, lifting a brow. He almost hesitated in asking -- Morrigan glanced at him, looking vaguely embarrassed. "He just knows. We can talk about this in private." He shrugged. "It hardly matters since . . . "consummation" is next on the agenda." He bowed slightly to his "wife." "Unless Milady wanted the bath first?" "Always the gentleman," Morrigan said dryly. "Why not both at the same time?" The elderly advisor blushed. "Milady --" +=+=+=+=+=+= Demitri followed her into chambers huge and sumptuous. Despite her relative youth, he was glad to see her taste was as gothic as his, perhaps more so. He would have to find out where all that black marble was from. There were female servants waiting, but she waved them off. Once they caught sight of him, they did not argue. Their exodus was so fast that even Morrigan looked surprised as she glanced at him. "I have that effect on people," he said deadpan. There was a moment of awkward silence, where Morrigan seemed to be getting used to the idea of a man in her chambers, and he was wondering what he should do. No, he was wondering HOW he should do what he had to do. What THEY had to do. He shook his head. Despite his vampiric lifestyle, he hadn't really been close to anyone in centuries. Human women bored him; it was like envisioning sleeping with cattle. Those few female Darkstalkers that had attempted seduction were also usually attempting murder. Until Morrigan, he had thought that part of himself long dead, and that blood and power were the last two drives left to him. "You wanted to take a bath," he reminded her as she hesitated. "And you were going to tell me how your old friend knew so much about our . . . lack of intimacy." She nodded. "It's a little embarrassing." "I imagine so." "The flow of my power changes when I'm -- " Demitri Maximoff was not stupid. "Ah, I see. He's known you since you were a child, hasn't he?" "He would have known if I'd lost my virginity." So saying, she turned toward the bathing chamber. "Did you want to bathe, too?" Demitri blinked once. "Are you telling me that there's not one demon in the whole of the Makai that --?" "I am rather picky," she added over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" "Not quite yet," he rumbled. She shrugged and disappeared into the other room while he ran this little fact through his mind. A virgin succubus? Was that rarer than a vegetarian vampire? They weren't born having sex, so he supposed succubi had to be virgin at one point or another . . . and she was fairly young . . . He sat down in the largest chair he could find and pondered the new development. It didn't really change anything, just the 'how' part. Oh, and a virgin's blood . . . actually, he never had had virgin blood. Maybe it was a wives tale, like crucifixes. Intermittent splashing got a hold of his attention and he went to join her in the bath, transforming his clothing into a robe. Her eyes lit up as he strode into the chamber. She leaned her chin on her arms on the rim of the small pool and showed her teeth. "What were you doing in there?" "Thinking." Why not tell the truth? She frowned slightly. "Is it really so awful, me being a virgin?" Awful wasn't quite the word he had in mind. Surprising, maybe. Unusual. Intriguing. Something of what he was thinking must have filtered to his face because she looked pleased suddenly. "I'm glad," she said. "The water is wonderfully hot. Do you like it hot?" He wasn't sure if that was a double entendre or what. Her face was perfectly innocent and matter-of-fact. "Very hot," was all he said, since it answered both questions. He willed away his robe and descended into the water beside her, watching her watch him. She made no secret of examining him as he slid into the water. He was grateful that Morrigan wasn't shy. They didn't have forever for her to get used to the idea of sex. "Are all vampires like you?" she asked curiously, then amended: "Physically, that is?" There weren't many of his kind left in the Makai. It was a natural question. "No. I am bigger than most." He hadn't meant it in any other way but generally, but perversely she took it in a sexual way, and smiled outright. "And uglier." Her eyebrows lifted at that. "Do you sincerely think so? Well, I have no other vampires to compare you with, but I hardly think you ugly." He aimed his malevolent, black eyes at her. "You have strange taste, Lady." "Oh, most certainly," she agreed, taking up her sponge and soap. "Turn around; I'll wash your back." He knew the torture was just beginning. +=+=+=+=+=+= Morrigan couldn't believe her own audacity. She had no clue how to approach what had to be done and was charging right ahead as if she knew everything. She was amazed that Demitri was so patient. Unless, of course, Demitri couldn't care less one way or another. Her hands paused on his back at the thought. Slowly she looked down at what she was doing. There was a shelf for sitting and she was kneeling on it to get to his shoulders. She wished he'd turn and look at her. He seemed not at all curious about her. But then the only time she really knew he wanted her was when he had fed from her; it had come to her in a burst of sensation. Heat. Need. Then it had faded as his hunger had subsided. Perhaps she had mistaken hunger for desire? Sighing, she scrubbed at the hard bulging muscles along her shoulders. Ah, but what a wonderful specimen he was! Made like a statue, every muscle delineated and wonderful . . . living sculpture. It wouldn't be so bad to have him, even if he didn't really want her. Marriage wasn't usually about desire anyway, right? She wished she could start thinking rationally around him, instead of thinking with what was between her legs. She ought to be thinking politically. Demitri wasn't just some man she decided to marry; he was a powerful vampire who had more than once tried to conquer the Makai. He was ruthless, savvy, blood thirsty . . . mmm. There I go again, she thought wryly. Maybe this will stop once I've had him. Maybe this is a virgin thing. "Morrigan," Demitri rumbled. "Hm?" "Do you truly want this marriage?" "Yes." She had been expecting that question. Her heart sped up just a little as she concentrated, working her way down his spine. "You're worth more than all the men in the Makai put together. I told you that I fell for you. Didn't you believe me?" He was silent. "What do you get out of it?" So he was absolutely on the political train of thought, was he? How disappointing. She had been hoping he was warming up to her. "I get a powerful ally who understands my need for glory and for victory, and who's not afraid to use his powers for what he wants." That sounded detached, she realized. "I also get a man I want more than any man I've known." Then she decided to throw in her trump card. Why not? "Also, my power increases dramatically once I'm breached." "Increases?" Was that worry in his voice? No, not possible. "There were some anxieties when I was born -- that I might come into my power too early and not be able to control myself. The last thing the Aenslaed family needs is one of their own causing havoc. So a portion of my power was sealed until I lost my virginity." She shrugged. "Actually, I've never really needed it." Silence again. What WAS he thinking? "Demitri." "Yes?" "I understand if this marriage is political for you. Ruling the Makai has been your goal for a long time. I know that just because I want you, it isn't necessarily reciprocated. I'm not quite that self-centered." He tensed, the muscles under her hands hardening. Had she managed to insult him? She didn't think so. He pulled forward and turned on the bench, leaving her naked and kneeling, with her hands still raised, completely bared to his gaze. She forgot how to breathe. His eyes slowly inspected her from her face down to her thighs and back up and she remembered to lower hands, and then breathe. "Morrigan." What was that in his voice? It sounded remotely like blood lust. She blinked in response. "It is not entirely political," he said, and raised a large hand to her jaw, the thumb brushing across her lower lip. "I'm not quite that cold-hearted." He leaned over and kissed her, a very small inquisitive kiss that had her sliding her arms about his shoulders and pressing forward for more. The world spun. What was she doing? This was insane. She didn't even know that much about kissing and she was demanding his response, trying to get closer. Was this succubus nature? She wasn't sure. On the other hand, she thought dazedly, he didn't seem to mind at all. He was kissing her voraciously, raising her up to straddle his thighs, his powerful hands kneading her back, her buttocks, and then her breasts. The heat was so intense she could barely open her eyes. Oh, this was so good . . . he was so good at this . . . He sank his teeth into her neck and the intensity went up another degree, the pain and sweetness of his hunger taking her higher. By all the gods, she was going to burn up, from the inside out! She moaned in disappointment when he slid them out and licked at the wound on her neck. He had hardly taken any blood. She forced her eyes open, to stare at him. Sitting on his thighs, they were on the same level. That was nice. His ruthless face with those burning eyes told her one thing: for him, this was also a matter of desire. His hands lifted her off of his lap. He stood up, water sheeting from his muscular body, and offered a hand to her. She took it, not quite in control of her own actions. She felt boneless. He hauled her out of the water and proceeded to dry her as she stood, blinking, only becoming aware when he knelt to dry her between the thighs. Oh . . . that wasn't fair. He was being extraordinarily gentle and thorough and she knew now, with some embarrassment, that it was pretty obvious what she was ready for. For a split second their eyes met, and she knew . . . she KNEW . . . he would be losing his patience soon. And she couldn't wait. +=+=+=+=+=+= Later she would laugh at the memory. She let him carry her to the bed, closing her eyes against his broad, hard chest. It was easier than having to walk, to think or to separate herself from those possessive hands. He laid her gently dead center and stood back, looking at her. She opened her eyes, wondering where he was, and found that intense gaze working over her again. She let her own eyes drop and follow the lines of his body, stopping and widening briefly at the one thing she had avoided looking at earlier. Big just didn't seem to be the appropriate word. The idea of him inside of her, forcing that into her, made her smile ferally. "Lady, you are magnificent," he rumbled, and she was, both her body and her spirit. He didn't think he'd be as attracted to her this way had it not been for her fantastic fiery soul. There were women more beautiful, more perfect physically, but no woman who had her bravery and her passion. She stretched her arms about her head and combed her bright turquoise hair with her fingers, creating a nimbus on the pillow behind her. "Then we make a perfect pair," she murmured, eye half-closed. Had he thought there were women more beautiful? Had he been insane to think that? She was so beautiful this way, her fair body stretched and waiting. He suddenly remembered the weight of her breasts in his hands and the heat of her thighs over his, how she had almost cried out when he had taken his teeth from her. Majestic woman, and perfect for him. He got on the bed, straddling her legs. Their eyes snared each other's and she licked her lips, smiling cat-like. He almost forgot to ask again. "Is this what you want?" he asked, letting his hands run over her hips and breasts. He paused there, stroking the nipples until they were hard. "Oh yes," she murmured, tossing her head. "Mm." She mentally tracked his hands as they left her breasts and returned to her hips. Then he was shifting backwards, and she could feel them between her knees. Oh, yes. Another shift of weight and she felt -- was that his mouth?! -- She shifted onto her elbows to see, surprised. Demitri was working his way up her inner thighs with his lips and teeth. He lifted his head briefly to look at her before using his hands to spread her legs wide enough to accommodate him. By all the gods -- she had not expected this . . . His fingers probed her, investigating gently, parting her folds and testing her wet heat. Was he looking at her? She closed her eyes. Surely he wasn't going to --? He was. His mouth and his tongue were there, lapping and testing. She shivered, undulating, and then drew in a startled breath. What did he just do? Again his tongue caressed something that shot shivering heat through her and she arched back, gasping. Oh gods, oh gods, what was he doing??? "Demitri --!" He withdrew and chuckled. Sitting up, he slid his fingers into her slick heat and filled her as far as she would take him. He watched her writhe and grunted as her inner walls tightened on his fingers. It was pleasure just to watch her deal with this newfound delight, but for the first time in centuries he was impatient to push himself inside and FEEL . . . Still thrusting in and out with his fingers, he maneuvered himself between the wedge of her thighs. She was shaking and moaning and he wanted in NOW, to see the pleasure turn into pain and then turn into pleasure again. But he had to ask her again. "Do you want this?" he asked hoarsely. He withdrew his fingers and lifted her legs around him. Reaching down, he positioned himself, and glanced up. Her eyes were wide and her chest was heaving. "Now, Demitri," she cried. "For the third time, yes!" He slid himself in, groaning softly at her tight tight grip and came up against the barrier of her virginity. He withdrew and pushed in again. Grasping her hips in a grip that would leave bruises, he withdrew a third time, and slammed hard to the core, eyes widening as she took him completely even as she was screaming in both gratification and suffering. It was the oldest rhythm in the world, and he had forgotten its power, how, once begun, it possessed you. He drove in again and again, groaning. Morrigan was grasping at his shoulders, making supplicating noises that he knew she would normally disdain as weak. When she bit at the juncture of his shoulder and neck -- gnawed, really, because her teeth weren't sharp enough -- he almost finished it prematurely. He could not remember the last time someone had fed off of him. For a willing vampire, it was the most intimate of moments. He bent his neck, found the wounds he had made earlier in her neck, and sank his teeth in again. Her little gasping moans escalated, turning into a desperate song he recognized. Soon now. Which was good because he could wait no longer. He concentrated on a fast deep rhythm. The small amounts of blood he took from her sent shocks through him, anticipating a more earthly pleasure. When it came, it surprised him -- its intensity. How had he forgotten this one elementary pleasure? He triggered her or she triggered him; later, he was unsure who began. He did remember that when she came, her inner walls clenched on him, and he nearly shouted as she milked him as he completed. Later he asked: "Am I hurting you?" He knew he must be crushing her under his superior weight. And she said: "Oh yes" with a smile in her voice. +=+=+=+=+=+= When he roused from his lethargy, he recalled the saying about a virgin's blood and went down to investigate, lapping at the mix of fluid between her thighs. Interesting. He was ingesting blood from his own semen, and blood from her broken hymen -- a bittersweet nectar. And he made her come, again. Finally -- was it an hour later? -- she said: "You almost forgot to ask the third time." "Yes." "That's a fine compliment. But I'm glad you remembered. I don't think I would have been able to keep track on my own." She was curled up on his side, head on one shoulder, and lazily walked her fingers down his pectorals. "We're married, then." Demitri smiled. Strange, but it didn't seem like such an awful thing. "Is it true, what they say about succubi?" She raised her head a little, frowning only slightly. "It depends on what you've heard." "Vampires are insatiable for blood, so perhaps it is true that succubi are insatiable for sex." She smiled mischievously. "Are you up to finding out?" He was fairly certain THAT was a double entendre. "Is that a question to ask a man? You know the answer." "Do I? Maybe I should see for myself -- " Her fingers slipped under the edge of the sheet they had haphazardly pulled over themselves, and wandered down his stomach. "Well, what DO we have here --?" +=+=+=+=+=+= "Milady, Messir --" The tentative knock roused Morrigan. She slipped out of bed and materialized clothes to let her advisor in. "How does it go out there? Is it rebellion?" she asked, for, despite the fact that she had been rather busy for several hours, there was always the possibility in the back of her mind that she and Demitri would have a fight ahead of them. "No, Lady. The family stands behind you, and so do most of the vassal families. There were a few dissenters, but it took little to remind them of the status of your power, now that you are no longer in the virgin state. Also, Lord Maximoff's actions in the hall seemed to make them think twice about acting on their ideas." "He is very powerful," Morrigan agreed. "He is a good enemy and a good fighter -- but as I have said, most demons don't want to fight; they would rather defend." "Lady, is all well? You've been in here so long --" Morrigan grinned. "Let's just say that my choice of husband was an excellent one on many fronts." She glanced behind them at the bed. The large form of her Demitri seemed to dwarf that particular piece of furniture. "I think I need a bigger bed." "Y-yes, Milady." "Let him rest. It's been a long day for him. If you would choose loyal guards for the door and put a detection spell on the chamber, I would like to talk to the council -- " "Yes, Milady!" She went back to the bed and kissed Demitri on the forehead. "Husband? Will you rest here for awhile? I have some chaos to straighten out on my own." "Hm." "I can send you a snack or two. We need to keep your strength up." At this, Demitri cracked an eye open. "You are too kind," he said. "I know, but please don't hold it against me." She kissed him on the lips this time. "I'm off to work, Love. Don't arrange a coup while I'm gone, all right?" "I will endeavor not to," he rumbled, and turned over, falling asleep again. "I think I like married life," Morrigan said on the way out. end Author's Note: This is what I get for watching the complete Darkstalkers in one night. Okay, so it's romantic. Shoot me. I just can't do the hardcore sex thing. After all, the best thing about this couple is their chemistry, not their private parts -- though I'm sure those are nice, too. :) sahari@pacbell.net May 1999