Demon Boyfriend Zagan (complete)

    You’ve been given a task of going through the wine cellar of some old relative. They no longer live at the house and are trying to get rid of everything there. You’re not sure how you’re related to this person, as far as you know you’ve never heard of some rich eccentric relative. The job is paying you well though, and you're able to use your skills to date and price the wines there for the auction.

    The wine cellar is massive. In your days working with wine dining and drinks, you’ve never seen such a sight. It reminds you of that old story, The Cask of Amontillado. Somewhere, deep within these walls, some asshole is boarded up in the walls. Suddenly, we were very grateful that you weren’t the owner of this house, because you would, in fact, have a lot of assholes in your walls.

    You set to work, going about the tomb-like reserve of wine labeling it and setting aside bottles to look over and sample later. You’re stunned by the collection, seeing wines only rich pedantics would guffaw about in the restaurants you worked at. You can’t even tell how many times you and your bosses had slipped annoying patrons Arbor Mist under the guise of finery.

    But these bottles were the real deal, and you felt like you were holding a treasure trove in the palm of your hands. You set a few bottles aside for yourself, the relative said you could, he told you he had no qualms with you taking first pick before he auctioned off the rest.

    One bottle drew your attention though. It was placed in the farthest reaches of the cellar and placed in a velvet lined box. The box had fallen from the shelf when you bumped into it and nearly knocked you out, but that was the least surprising thing. You were used to things falling and hitting you for no reason.

    The box was lovely, it looked hand carved and etched with strange words you had no idea the language they were. The bottle itself was nothing to shake a stick at. It was a basic bottle with a label that had been worn away and rendered illegible. You decided to add it to your stash if anything for the cool the box. 

    After working all day and getting most of the cellar labeled, you head home. Along the way home, you stop to pick up food for yourself. You park across the street and when the light changes you cross. Well, you assume the light changed in your favor, but as soon as you’re in the middle of the street, cars start blaring their horns, and one surges forward towards you, hitting your legs. 

    You dart across, hating that you didn’t just sit on the car that knee tapped you. You scoff and go into the restaurant to pick up your takeout order. You’re used to bad luck following you, it always had. Black cats, broken mirrors, open umbrellas, they all seemed to follow you and adding to your years of misfortune.

    Once you get home and set out the food, you find the order is wrong. “Of course,” you grumble under your breath, taking a bite from the food inside. “Oh well.” You set out the wine bottles on your counter. 

    “At least I have these.” You sigh under your breath.

    You go back into your room to change and get comfy. As you’re taking down your hair, you hear a loud crash in the kitchen. You roll your eyes and finish putting your hair into a messy bun.

    “Ok, what now?” You go into the kitchen and see one of the wine bottles has fallen off the counter and crashed on the ground. “Well fuck.” As you pick up the glass, you realize it’s the bottle from the box.

    Confused, you look over, seeing the box is tipped over as well. “How?” You whisper your yourself. As you step into the kitchen, something is standing just at the corner of your vision.

    You stop and turn, looking up as the tall, hulking figure towering over your fridge.

    The creature waves its long, strange hand at me. “Boo.”

    You drop the dustpan in my hand with all the glass in it. The creature stands taller than your fridge. Its body is long and angular. Its arms are long and sinewy. A second set of arms grows out of the waist and remind me of raptor hands. Its body is blotchy in color. There is white to it, but most of it looks stained burgundy red. 

    The creature has a long, long tail. It coils around his feet and then slithers through the wine on the ground. He leans towards you with his swan-like neck. His face is almost skeletal with a drawn-out muzzle. He tilts his head, and his wet hair slips to the side. He has tall horns on his head that stick straight up then curve in and twist together at the top. The shape of them almost looks like the neck of a wine bottle.

    “I’ve been trapped in that awful cell for too long,” he growls. His hair drips, and I realize it’s soaked with wine. “I need a shower.”

    You swallow and point towards the bathroom. “Right...right over there.”

    He growls low, stepping around you. He goes into the bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water turn on.

    After several moments of silently standing there, unable to process what is going on. You walk over to the bathroom and peek inside. You see the creature in the shower stall, ducked down the water hits his head. His tail hangs out the side and twitches on the tile.

    “Are you watching me?” he turns and looks at you.

    You gasp and jump back. “No, I uh-”

    He chuckles. “Careful,” he points. “One more step back and you’ll cut yourself.”

    You turn quickly, seeing just as you heel is a thick shard of glass. You go back to cleaning, making sure every last piece of glass is thrown away, and the wine is mopped up.

    The creature steps out of the bathroom, dripping where he walks. “Much better.” He looks at the bottles of wine on your counter and grimaces. His black tongue lashes out, and he turns away from them.

    “What...who are you?” You ask cautiously. 

    He chuckles. “I can answer both,” he smirks. “My name is Zagan, and I’m a demon.”

    “A demon?” You gasp.

    “Is that so surprising?” He hisses. 

    “Well, it’s just,” you cut your eyes to the trash can where the smashed wine bottle was. “You came out of a bottle. I’ve never heard of a demon coming from...a...bottle…” you slow yourself into shutting up and you bite your lip.

    “I was trapped,” Zagan hisses. “Tricked, trapped, and tortured.”

    You look away, hearing a demon calling himself tortured seemed strange but you weren’t one to say anything.

    “I was locked into that bottle of holy wine for centuries,” he snarls. “Cruel trap it was. I used to have such an affinity for wine.” He side glances at your collection. “Now I see it an it makes me want to vomit.”

    “I can put it away,” you chirp quickly. 

    “I would very much appreciate that,” he growls.

    You take the wine bottles and quickly tuck them into a cabinet with your collection of Tupperware with mismatched or missing lids. “There, out of sight out of mind.”

    Zagan grimaces at you, and you quickly look away.

    “So uhm-” you mutter. “You’re free now. What do you plan on doing?”

    Zagan’s dark eyes flick to the window. He looks distant for a moment as his gaze starts to narrow. “Not much,” he huffs. 

    “You can’t go home?” You ask.

    He scoffs. “What home?” He shakes his head slowly. “Who do you think sealed me away in that bottle?” 

    “Oh,” you murmur. “Sorry.”

    Zagan turns back and looks at you. His eyes squint, and he smirks. “It looks like you have your own dark cloud following you around as well.”

    “Huh?” You gasp.

    “Bad luck,” he says with a laugh. “Poor thing.”

    You frown. “Yeah. And?”

    “Maybe we could both help each other out then,” Zagan suggests. “I can stay here, and in return, I can offer some assistance with your problem.”

    “You’re a demon, aren’t you the one who is supposed to cause misfortune?” You cross your arms against your chest.

    “I can do both,” he says with a smirk.

    You frown. “Well, prove it then.”

    Zagan glances at your bag of takeout food. He touches it, and when he opens it up, the food inside has changed. It’s no longer the chicken and potatoes from the wrong order. Instead, it’s a thick steak surrounded by butter dripping vegetables all on a bed of rice.

    “Ta-da,” Zagan grins.

    “Oh wow,” you whisper. You take a piece of food cautiously and chew it slowly. It tastes like a miracle. “Oh wow!” You say loudly.

    “And like before with the glass,” Zagan replies. “Keep me around, and I’ll make sure things like that won’t happen again.”

    You frown for a moment then sigh. “Ok. Fine.”

    Zagan grins. “We have a deal.”

    Certainly enough, over the next few days, you find your not nearly as injured as you usually are. You’re one to bump into things, trip, fall, and hurt yourself regularly. You keep bandages in your bag because of how often you get paper cuts. And you your amazement you haven’t had any all week.

    Zagan seems to be keeping his promise, but aside from living in your place, your not exactly sure it is he’s gaining from it. You know from experience that keeping you out of bad luck’s reach is a full-time job. You figure he’ll get exhausted eventually.

    One day as you’re leaving work, you see Zagan standing with your reflection, but he’s not on the street with you. “What’re you doing here?” You ask him.

    “I sensed something,” he whispers.

    You furrow your brow. “Like what?”

    Zagan tilts his head up. “Not sure, but I felt the need to make sure you made the walk home.” He waves his hand. “Keep going.”

    You frown, but you keep walking. You get to the crosswalk and all of a sudden Zagan grabs you from behind. “Don’t go that way,” he snarls.

    “Why?” You look up at him.

    “Just go another way.” He then shoves money into your hands. “Take a cab if you need to.”

    You stare at the fist full of dollars in your hands. “Where did you get his-”

    “Do as I say!” He roars at you. 

    You jump to, finding a cab to take you the short distance home. Once there you walk inside and find Zagan waiting on you.

    “Ok,” you huff. “So tell me, what was the big deal?” You hold up the rest of the money. “You want your change back?”

    “No,” he growls.

    “Then what was so bad? I just had to go through the park, and I would’ve been home. The cab ride wasn’t necessary.”

    Zagan scoffs. “I did my job. I kept you out of harm.”

    “Harm?” You furrow your brow. “What kind of harm?”

    “The throat slit and shoved into a trunk kind of harm,” Zagan hisses at you.

    Your eyes go wide, and you swallow. “What,” you laugh. “No. No way.” You look at him, and your smile and laugh fades. “No,” you murmur. 

    Zagan growls. “Bad things are hiding where you would least suspect.” He touches your cheek. “Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt you now.”

    “Still,” you whisper. “It’s too scary to think that-” you hesitate and Zagan reaches out, placing his palm on your cheek. You glance up at him and smile softly.

    “I guess I owe you a big thanks,” you murmur.

    “You’ve already thanked me,” Zagan drops his hand.

    You take a step closer towards him and gently put your hands on his chest. “It’s been nice having you around,” you murmur.

    He scoffs and ruffles your hair. “Don’t get sentimental on me.”

    You chuckle and look up at him. “No, I mean it. I didn’t realize how nice it was not banging myself up every day.”

    Zagan chuckles. “Do you know how hard that’s been?”

    You smirk and nod. “I figured you’d get tired of the upkeep eventually.”

    “I was stuck in a bottle for several centuries. This is fine,” Zagan laughs. He smoothes your hair down from mussing it up. “Now, go lay down.”

    You laugh. “Or what? Something bad will happen to me.”

    Zagan smirks. “No.”

    Your heart hammers as you look into his eyes. You then slip away, going into the bedroom where you lay down on the bed. The lights dim and you look up as Zagan comes into the room carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine.

    “I thought you said you hated it,” you chuckle.

    Zagan sits on the edge of the bed. With his teeth, he pulls out the cork. “I think I can stomach it.” He pours you a glass and places it in your hand.

    “Thanks,” you chuckle.

    He holds up his glass. “Cheers then.”

    “Cheers.” You tap your glass to his then take a sip of the dark red within. “Oh-” you suddenly giggle.

    “What?” He asks.

    You snort. “I really don’t like it.”

    Zagan grins, taking a sip then setting both glasses aside. “Then what about this?” He presses a kiss to your lips.

    You moan softly, clutching onto him. You then wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer until you’re laying down on the bed.

    Zagan pulls back, nipping your bottom lip and growling under his breath. “Was this better?” He whispers.

    “Mm,” you grunt. “Yeah, it was.”

    Zagan smirks and kisses you again. The small hands at his waist push up your shirt and touch your bare skin. You whimper softly but press yourself to your touch. You loop your leg around his narrow waist, and he chuckles darkly.

    “What?” You whisper.

    “Something bad,” he growls. “Something very, very bad.” He bites your neck and drags his sharp teeth down your skin.

    You whimper and lay back as he pushes away your shirt. He kisses down your chest, gently nuzzling between your breasts. His dark eyes flick up to look at you as you stare down at him.

    He raises up again. “I hope you know by bad I mean-”

    “Yes, yes, bad means good sex, get on with it!” You scoff.

    “Right, right,” he ducks back down, making quick work of your pants and underwear. He rubs and squeezes your thighs, moaning to himself as his fingers sink into your plump flesh. 

    “I know something much better than any wine,” he growls as he opens up your legs.

    “Really?” You huff.

    “Just stay quiet!” Zagan snaps at you. He nips your thigh and chuckles. “I know what I’m doing.”

    You giggle, pulling your knees up to allow him a better look. “You sure? You said it’s been centuries.”

    He slaps your thigh. “Stop teasing me!”

    You snort and giggle, covering up your mouth with your hand. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

    He groans and rolls his eyes. “I should be making you do this work.” He then licks at your mound and you whimper. His tongue is much hotter than you expected. His fingers trace along your mound, slowly opening you up.

    He grunts darkly, licking at your wetness before slithering his tongue along your entire length. A moment later, his finger slips inside you. You squeak, and your inner walls clamp tight around him.

    “Very good,” he snarls with a laugh. 

    “Anh-” your head is starting to grow foggy. His touch feels so good. He kisses and licks you and his tongue coils around your clit. You grunt as it squeezes and pulses. Your mouth hangs open as you feel the heat pool in your belly.

    Zagan then sits up, licking his fingers as he rises. Your lashes flutter, and you want to snap at him for stopping, but then you see his cock bobbing between his thighs. It’s thick and heavy, and you can’t help but bite your lip.

    “That looks bad,” you whisper.

    Zagan chuckles as he pushes your legs back. He rubs his shaft against your slit, and you can feel the deep ridges along his base. Round studs are lining the side that feel cold compared to his heat. 

    “No,” he whispers as he presses his tip to your folds. “Lucky girl,” he groans as he dips inside. 

    You reach down, feeling as he stretches and fills you. You gasp and squeak, biting down on your cheek. You feel him deep inside and surging. 

    “Anh-’ he grunts as he starts to churn his hips. “You’re squeezing me a bit tight.”

    You whimper, unable to answer him. You can’t help that you’re squeezing him, it just feels too good. You can feel every ridge, every marble like stud. The curved tip of his shaft hits your sweet spot just right. Every two or three thrusts he stills, grinding into you.

    Your toes begin to curl and your press you soft body into his. You grip tight onto him, feeling the pressure inside you build. His hips buck and gyrate, and his growls have become animalistic snarls. 

    You feel him surging inside you, his cock throbs and then, as the heat floods you from within, you lashes flutter, and you cry out. Your nails dig down his back, and in a moment, you’re laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

    Zagan in on top of you, still warm inside you. He grunts after a moment, picking himself up and rolling over to the side. 

    “Well,” he murmurs with a sleepy voice. “How was it?”

You smirk and kiss his chest, resting on his arm and chest. “Bad luck for you,” you purr. “You’re never going to get rid of me now.”

Zagan smirks and tugs you close. “Good. That was my plan all along.”