Chapter 210: "Scared Of You Every Single Day" (Wholesome?)

"Because you’re the first man who ever looked at me and didn’t flinch. Didn’t think I’d charm him or bleed him dry." She went pink, quiet, no act layered under it this time. "Everyone else sees the horns and the whole disaster attached to them. You just saw Cherry. Or you faked it well enough that I stopped caring which."

That sinks into a spot in my chest that feels bruised and good at the same time, right next to the last thing she said, and I have to remember how lungs work before I open my mouth again.

"Last one," I say, voice rougher than I mean it to be. "What do you want? Not from tonight. From all of it. Me, the casino, whatever this is."

She looks at me, and for once neither version of her flinches away from the question, shy or succubus, just Cherry, whoever that actually turns out to be underneath both masks.

"I want to matter," she says. "Not as a bond, not as a body count, not as another jewel in your collection. I want to be the one you don’t get bored of."

The room goes still except for the roulette wheel still ticking down behind them, clicking through numbers nobody bet on.

I don’t have a smooth line for that one. Don’t have a joke either, which is rare enough that even I notice it.

So I just reach out, tilt her chin up with two fingers, and kiss her instead, slow, no rush to it. Let that do the talking.

She makes a sound against my mouth that isn’t shy or succubus either, just her, and her hands come up to grip my shoulders like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

"Questions," I murmur against her lips, "and you never asked me one back."

"Didn’t need to." Her fingers tighten. "Already know everything I need to."

Bold claim, but looking at her now, wrecked and glowing under the wheel’s dying spin, I figure I’ll let her have it.

She answers every single one, voice sliding between a commanding purr and something rawer underneath, something that sounds almost like the real Cherry bleeding through the mask, same as I’m bleeding through mine.

By the time we reach the last table, she’s crawling with nothing left to take off, collar catching neon light, chain looped loose in my smoke grip, and I realise I’ve stopped keeping score of questions somewhere around twelve.

"Last one," I say anyway, because I started this and I’m gonna finish it. "Are you scared of me?"

She looks up at me, red-shifted eyes steady, and for once neither version of her flinches.

"Every single day," she says. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Something about that makes me ache. Not with guilt, but with this weird, possessive pride, like I want the whole world to see the signature and know she’s mine.

I let that pride sit in my chest a second longer before I move her.

"Now crawl next to the wheel."

She doesn’t ask why. She just goes, crawling over cool marble with the leash trailing behind her, and something about watching her get into position without a single word of complaint makes my coils tighten up on themselves.

I glide around her slowly, smoke curling off my scales, tasting the air with my tongue because I can’t help it; she smells like nerves and want all tangled together, and I want to know every part of that mix.

"Tonight," I say, voice low, "is not the night you take control back."

She goes still, head turning slightly, red-shifted eyes finding me over her shoulder.

"I don’t-Ah!"

I cut her off with a curl of smoke that traces down her spine, not quite touching, just close enough to make her shiver. "No talking back either, not yet."

Her breath hitches, and I watch the fight happen right there on her face, shy Cherry trying to stammer something and succubus Cherry trying to drop her voice into that commanding purr, both of them losing to whatever’s happening in her body right now.

"Good girl," I murmur, and her hips actually twitch at that, like the words hit somewhere lower than her ears.

I drag a smoke hand along her thigh, slow, feeling her skin pebble up under the touch, and she makes a small broken sound that she clearly wasn’t planning on making.

"Matt—"

"Nuh uh." I loop more smoke around the base of her tail, holding it still, keeping her from doing that thing she loves where she grabs on and tries to flip the whole script. "Not today; today you don’t get to pin anything."

She whines, an actual whine, and I feel my smoke flare a little with how much I like that sound.

The tail I’ve got extended runs slow over the curve of her ass, testing, feeling how wet she already is just from a few words and some light touching, and I hum low without meaning to, the tune that doesn’t have words but always shows up right before I do something a little unhinged.

"Please," she breathes, and it’s not clear if that’s shy Cherry or succubus Cherry talking; might be both at once for all I know.

"Please what?" I want to hear her say it.

"Please stop teasing m-"

"That’s not how tonight works." I press the blunt head of my tail that’s under all that smoke against her, not pushing in, just letting her feel exactly how much bigger it is than she’s used to. "Today I take my time. Today you don’t get to rush me into anything."

Her fingers curl against the roulette table, knuckles white, and her whole body trembles like she’s holding something back by sheer force of will.

"You’re shaking," I say, smoke hand smoothing up her spine now, gentle where the tail is not.

"I know." Her voice cracks a little on the second word.

"Scared?"

"Always." Same answer as before, and something about hearing it twice in one night does something stupid and warm to whatever passes for my heart these days.