Badass Alchemy

by M J Marstens

  “What kind of creature can change its eye-color?” I manage to ask when Maybe-Ferro’s lips leave mine to trail scorching kisses down my throat and between my leather-clad breasts.

  “Not a fucking clue,” he answers.

  “Then, how are your eyes gold?”

  “Ms. Dejais, I think you need your eyes checked. My eyes have never been any shade then what you see now.”

  His molten orbs flick to mine briefly before he returns to seducing me. He yanks open my leather vest and tugs on my black shirt underneath. I wince when I feel the shredded fabric in the back pull against my ravaged skin.

  Fuck, I’d forgotten about the demon’s claws nearly ripping my spinal cord out.

  The attack reminds me once more of why I’m here, but I can’t bring myself to maim the man who is igniting a fire inside of me. My brain boils with rage over this new betrayal and I can only imagine the self-loathing that I’ll feel afterward, but for now, I just feel. I embrace Ferro’s dominance, his irritation, my pain, and even my anger. I let it fuel my actions as I help him tug off the rest of my clothing.

  The sexy smartass was already naked when I crept into his bed and I can feel the long hard length of his cock throbbing between my exposed thighs, pulsing with promise. Foreplay becomes inessential. I have no need for it—all I want is Ferro inside of me.

  Now.

  As if he can read my mind, he surges into me in one deep stroke. Both of us groan animalistically and I open my eyes to watch him fuck me in smooth and measured moves. He’s so in control, but the look on his face is one of pure ecstasy and his gaze is almost tempestuous, like he’s more unraveled than he appears.

  He reaches down to toy with my clit and I toss my head back at the intense pleasure it brings. His thumb slowly circles the nub in an almost leisurely movement that makes my muscles tense. I buck into his hand, but the fucker ignores my silent plea.

  “Harder,” I grunt.

  “Slow and steady wins the race, Ms. DeJais,” Tall, Dark, and Withholding murmurs.

  His voice is composed, but I can hear his breathing rachet up.

  “Well,” I pant heavily in frustration, “I didn’t sign-up to be fable-fucked.”

  With that, I decide to take control of the situation.

  the orgasm that still fucked me

  I slam my hips up to meet his as I twist my wrists still caught in his hands. My sudden movement startles him and I use it to my advantage. I hook my right leg around his bent left knee and pull as I roll us both. The look of shock on his face when he finds himself on his back and me, once more, on top is almost comical.

  Finally seated in a position of authority, I waste no time fucking him how I dream of being screwed—hard, fast, and savage. My right hand cups my breast, pinching the nipple viciously, while my left hand works my clit in rapid circles. Ferro seems almost transfixed as I ride him. Vexation swims in his golden gaze, but he seems powerless to stop my actions.

  His hands reach out and bite into my thighs, helping me to ravage his cock even harder. Our breathing is ragged and bounces off the walls as I spiral toward an earth-shattering orgasm. I reach down to brace myself against his chest as I swivel my hips even quicker. Sweat beads Ferro’s forehead and I can tell that he’s just as close.

  “Please,” I whimper before I can stop my whore mouth.

  It’s a beseeching traitor.

  “Yes, beg me for it, cher,” Tall, Dark, and Close rasps, still trying to gain the upper hand.

  Someone has control issues.

  But, that secret fucked-up part of me loves it. And since she’s running this show, I let her do whatever she wants. Her advice—beg like a bitch in heat.

  “Please, Ferro, please.”

  He snarls like a rabid beast and I see the last light of sanity extinguish from his eyes. Then, he’s exactly how I imagined his name— feral. He tries to wrestle me onto my back again, but I refuse to submit any further.

  We tussle back and forth until we end up on our sides, facing each other. He has my right leg pinned over his left thigh, pulling me even closer so that he can fuck me deeper. I grip his left bicep, my nails biting into his flesh. Ferro grunts and leans in to capture my lower lip between his teeth.

  “You fucking pain-in-the-ass. I knew that you were trouble. I fucking knew it.”

  “Fuck you, pal,” I hiss right back.

  My anger reaches a new pinnacle as my eyes bore into his, but the tingling of my clenching pussy signals my impending orgasm and it doesn’t give two fucks about how pissed I am at the man. All it cares about is getting off. For the first time since I stormed into his room, I see the familiar twist of his lips in a mocking grin.

  “It kills you how much you want this. How much you want me,” Ferro taunts. “Now, be a good little troublemaker, and come.”

  His words ignite something visceral inside of my core and I respond to his command against my will, my orgasm detonating ferociously. Ferro shoves his hand under the curly springs of my hair and yanks my head back using the coils as leverage. The sharp pinch of pain on my scalp makes me come even harder and, with a hoarse cry, Ferro follows me. He burrows his face into the crook of my neck and unleashes his cum deep within me.

  We lay there for a minute or two before pulling apart. My skin is sticky with sweat and I have a funny taste in my mouth. I’m almost certain it’s my shame. I don’t even look at Ferro as I get dressed. My vest and cotton shirt are in tatters, but I make it work.

  “I think it’s time that you answered some questions for me.”

  Ferro snorts.

  I look over to see him standing there naked, his fucking cock still at attention. He makes no move to cover himself and I look away to pull on my boots.

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?” I spit out.

  “You fucking heard me— no. You think that because I got off in your tight snatch that I owe you answers?”

  If looks could kill, I swear this man would be nothing but a soul— a soul that I would obliterate from existence. How dare he imply that we fucked just so that I could get answers! And I’m back to square one: wanting to stab Ferro.

  “If you want answers, cher, you can go through the process of becoming an A.S.S. member, just like everyone else.”

  I open my mouth to retort, but the infuriating man simply walks out of his room. I follow him downstairs where he opens the front door and gestures for me to get the fuck out. Dawn is streaking the sky in soft pastels that do not reflect my inner rage. I step up to the bastard to give him a piece of my mind, but the fucker shoves me through the door frame!

  I whirl back around just as he tosses my trident carelessly to the ground at my feet.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Tall, Dark, and Dickface calls. “My name’s not Ferro. It’s Lio.”

  With that parting remark, he slams the front door shut on my stunned face. I somehow manage to stumble down the front walk and out the gate, throwing a brief look over my shoulder at the old brick house. It’s not until I return home and face-plant on my bed in exhaustion that I realize the horrifying truth:

  I just fucked a schizophrenic maniac.

  pro boning

  I sleep fitfully for a couple of hours before giving up and calling my mèrè. She answers on the first, full of vigor.

  “Sass! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? It’s not even eight in the morning.”

  “Cut the crap, mèrè. I need your help. Where is the Assassin’s headquarters?”

  “Didn’t your young man tell you?”

  “Firstly, he’s not my anything. That indicates possessiveness on some level. The only thing that I’m possessive about concerning that jerk is my claim to murder him. Secondly, no. He didn’t tell me dick. In fact, he told me just because he gave me some of his didn’t mean that he was required to give me any answers. He basically called me an information-seeking whore. So, any help that you could impart would be much appreciated. Especially considering how I took your advice to ‘take�
� as a woman. I promise you that decision is going to haunt me forever.”

  “That good of a lay, huh?” my mèrè grunts.

  “No! I meant that my shame would forever haunt me, not the memory of him fuc- You know what? I’m not talking to you about this. Can you please help me? Please?”

  “Fine— but I want more than just your chanting assistance this Saturday,” she barters.

  “You know, most grandmas are happy to help their grandchildren, free of interest and extortion.”

  “Good thing I’m not just any ol’ mèrè. I’m the Voodoo Queen and don’t you forget it, Sassafras Collette DeJais.”

  “There’s the use of my full name. This conversation wouldn’t have been complete without it. Ok, where can I find the Assassins?”

  “Ask your demon prince. I’m sure that he can escort you.”

  “Beelzebub?”

  “Do you know any others, Sass?” Mèrè asks in exasperation.

  Thankfully, I do not.

  “I really don’t see how he’s going to help. . .”

  “Just go, child,” Mèrè commands, hanging up on me.

  I ponder my options, realize that I don’t really have any, and call out Beelzebub’s name three times. He instantly appears inside my apartment, muscine wings fluttering behind him erratically.

  “M’lady Soul-Stabber! We meet again so soon, and might I add how appreciative I am for your curtains. Your earthly sun is a bitch. Nice outfit, too,” he continues, looking around my home.

  “It’s pretty much the same get-up as last night’s.”

  “Minus the decorative claw marks on the back.”

  “Please, don’t remind me.”

  I’d forgotten to ask my mèrè for a healing aid— and a birth control potion. I am already on the Pill, but whoever I fucked last night seems potent.

  And crazy.

  Does this world really need any more of that?

  “I have a favor to ask,” I tell Beelzebub.

  “Did you know that Sardinia, they make a maggot-infested cheese?”

  “Gross, but interesting. Back to my favor. . .”

  Beelzebub sighs at my lack of interest in the gourmet delicacies that the offspring of the common housefly apparently can make.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of favors for you lately,” he comments.

  “Two. You’ve done two favors for me, both of which I have promised to repay you when asked. I’m sure there’s something else you need help with.”

  “Well, I do struggle with molting-”

  “In Hell, I meant! For realms’ sake, I’m never asking my mèrè for her advice again. Can you help me or not?”

  Beelzebub dipteran eyes assess me unblinkingly before he nods.

  “I will take you to the Assassins in return for a favor to be asked at a later date.”

  “No. State them now.”

  “Those are my terms, M’lady S.S. I’m not the one in need of aid; so, you are in no position to barter with me.”

  Motherdicker.

  This demonic asshole’s logic rivals my mèrè’s.

  I argue with myself over and over, my body tense with nerves. I don’t like this. Bargains like these always fuck people over and the realms don’t need my help in dicking me— they do just fine on their own. Eventually, I decide that whatever Beelzebub will ask for couldn’t be worse than the current predicament that the realms are in now.

  “Deal,” I agree, holding out my hand for him to spit in. “Although, considering how I am helping you find your answers, I think you can start doing some Pro Bono shit for me.”

  “Mmm, don’t let Middle Alchemy hear you asking me for my pro boning. He won’t be pleased at all,” Beelzebub warns just before he unleashes a torrent of spit into my open palm.

  Like before, it burns, but I’m too confused by the demon prince’s words.

  What the fuck is middle alchemy?

  next time, bring beignets

  “Ready to go?” Beelzebub asks, scattering my thoughts.

  I check to make sure that my trident is secured and in place.

  “Yes.”

  “To get to the Assassins we must cross into the angelic realm.”

  I grimace.

  “A.S.S. are angels?” I exclaim incredulously.

  “No. They just have their headquarters there.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Because I’ve followed Middle Alchemy.”

  Apparently, Middle Alchemy is a who, not a what. Well, maybe it’s still a what.

  “And who the fuck is that?”

  “The Assassin who left you his demon tarot,” the demon clarifies with a tone that says I should know this already.

  “Why do you call Ferro ‘Middle Alchemy’?” I wonder as we shift into the angelic realm.

  Contrary to human belief, Beelzebub doesn’t burst into flame and there isn’t an army of angels ready to strike him down. Demons and angels are simply two different creatures from two different realms.

  Who happen to hate one another’s guts.

  “It’s just easier that way,” my demon escort answers.

  Which— really was no answer at all.

  I’ve never been to the angelic realm. Harp music doesn’t greet me when I enter, nor is it a land of wispy white clouds drenched in golden light. The angels themselves have a golden glow; something that Beelzebub grumbles about each time we pass one. I assume that the light must sting his eyes.

  Unlike the In-Between, the angelic realm is not transparently steeped in the human one. I no longer see my earthly surroundings like I do when I enter the soul’s realm. But, similar to Earth, there are buildings and what I assume are houses. Everything gleams a brilliant silver.

  Beelzebub and I walk through the angelic city in silence. The few angels that we encounter don’t even acknowledge our presence but go about their business. It’s not until we come to a cottage-style building made of a blackish unfamiliar material that I know we’ve arrived. The building appears almost insubstantial, like it’s made of smoke and shadows.

  “Welcome, M’lady Soul-Stabber to A.S.S. headquarters!” Beelzebub says with a grin. “I will leave you to it. I’m still searching for a possessed demon.”

  “You haven’t found it yet?!”

  “Why do you think I’m in the angelic realm?” the demon prince counters.

  Great.

  A possessed demon is on the run in the angels’ domain.

  “Until I call for you. Or you call for me,” Beelzebub says in parting before sauntering off.

  I rub between my eyebrows, trying to piece together what the fuck is happening in the realms. I walk up to the cottage door, my fist raised to knock, but I hesitate.

  Will my hand go right through it?

  Shrugging, I try it anyway. Surprisingly, the smoky haze surrounding the door solidifies under my knuckles and makes a resounding rapping sound that echoes around me. No sooner than I lower my hand that the door swings open.

  Standing there is a woman that barely reaches my waist. Her hair is black and cut in a short, blunt bob reminiscent of Edna from Disney’s The Incredibles. In fact, the more that I stare at her, the more I’m convinced she was the inspiration for the character. She wears all black and carries a pointer. Gray streaks her dark hair and her beady black eyes assess me severely.

  “You’re late,” she snaps. “I’m Rowan, head of A.S.S.”

  I raise a sardonic brow at her.

  “I didn’t know asses had heads. Are you sure your name isn’t Edna?” I joke, ignoring her first comment because it’s so preposterous.

  “Did I ask your opinion, Tiana?” she retorts with equal fire and Disney knowledge. “Did you bring Naveen and some beignets? We don’t need any more smartasses. We have enough. So shut up and follow me.”

  Well, I think I just found my mèrè’s long-lost best friend.

  “Oh, and next time, Ms. Dejais,” Rowan calls as she marches off into the darkened house, confirming that she does inde
ed know me, “do bring beignets.”

  And Rowan just confirmed for me that she’s the biggest smartass of all.

  triplets means three

  Rowan leads me through the willowy halls that seem to breathe as we walk. They undulate softly as I pass and it’s one of the top ten creepiest things that I’ve seen— which is saying something. Outside, the house appeared to be a small bungalow, but with each step, I realize that it’s an illusion. The hazy home a mansion hidden in a hut.

  We descend a spiral staircase that leads to a basement where everything seems a lot more substantial. With the regal authority of a true queen, Rowan throws open a pair of wooden doors that leads to a study of sorts. Inside are three men.

  Three.

  Identical.

  Men.

  “Ms. Dejais, you’re familiar with the Alchemy triplets, yes?” Rowan asks rhetorically.

  “There’s three of you?” I whisper in a daze as I stare at Ferro with his bright blue eyes, Lio with his golden glare, and a third brother with nearly blood-red orbs.

  “Yes. That’s what ‘triplets’ means— three,” Lio smirks.

  He holds up three fingers and counts slowly like I am too stupid to understand. I remember his hands caressing my body. His lips kissing mine. His cock deep inside of me. And, then, I remember my rage. In a barely perceptible move, I lunge forward and knee him in the balls.

  “I know what ‘triplets’ mean, you cock-sucking shiteater. And just because there are three of you doesn’t mean you have to be three times the asshole.”

  “I like her,” the demon-eyed brother stage-whispers to Rowan, who just scowls at him. He steps forward, but keeps enough distance in case I decide to knee him, too. “I’m Caro.”

  Not happy at all, I shake his hand briefly.

  “Sass.”

  A twisted smile stretches across the red triplet’s lips. It’s full of mischief and devilry. And Lio says that I’m the troublemaker. I glare over at the fucker, who’s recovered from my patella kissing his sac. I’m sufficiently pissed at myself for what happened last night/this morning, but it’s easier to blame Lio for everything.