That Damn Imp Ch. 10

Puck stared down at the gift he had gotten for her. The flawless ruby glittered in the sunlight, complemented by the smaller diamonds that sat at either side of it in an elegant design. By human standards, it was a very impressive gift for a man to give a woman. Even by fae standards, it was still quite a nice piece of bling, and he turned it this way and that, seeing the flashes of color as the flawless diamonds refracted the sun's rays.

It was a magnificent gift, for the most magnificent woman he'd ever known. He slid the gold band onto his pinky and lifted his finger, wiggling it as he imagined how it would look on Koshka's ring finger. It was not hard to visualize how he would present it to her. He would dress himself in a fine black suit, with a red silk tie, and put on a dab of the cologne he knew she liked. He would sink to one knee in front of her, and lift the little velvet box in one hand before opening it and letting her see the ring as he asked her the question...

But that was Malcolm. If he proposed marriage to her, their union would be based off a sham. Koshka certainly was happy with Malcolm, and Puck was confident that he could keep up the charade for years. He'd grown into the role of Malcolm... or had it grown onto him? Being so faithful to the guise he had created offered Puck certain challenges that he'd responded to and learned from. In that respect, was Malcolm such a lie? Was his human guise simply that, a guise, or had Malcolm become a part of himself, a part that he'd seen no real reason to nurture or develop in the past? Such a quandary...

Puck sighed as he slipped the ring off his finger and put it back in its case.

o0o

Koshka walked up the stairs and quickly knocked, calling out before she let herself into the living room of Pam, who had called upon her for vengeance after the murder of her grandson, Jason. She set the brown paper bag on the scuffed but clean dining table. Pam rose from her seat, going to the kitchen to fetch some silverware and dishes for their meal.

The demon was silent as she watched the old woman shuffle across the floor. Mrs. Voorhees had had a difficult life. Born just before the Great Depression, she'd married young to a man who had become alcoholic and abusive. Of her children, little remained. One was in jail for life, another had caused his own death in a drunk driving accident, and the third died from an overdose. The fourth was missing.

Her daughter had been known for being... popular with the men, and ended up pregnant one day. She was quick to abandon her son with her mother, so Pam had been left to raise Jason. Despite his mild mental disability, Jason had turned out better than his mother or aunts and uncles. He gave his grandmother solace, working part-time in the grocery store and reading his comics and building model planes in his room. He was an affable fellow around the neighborhood - there was not one reason to dislike him.

After all she'd suffered in her life, the murder of her grandson unleashed something in her. And Koshka had helped her to channel that into vengeance fitting of those who would kill a hapless victim for pleasure.

The woman whose actions had rocked the community was dying of cancer. She'd been undergoing chemotherapy, but her advanced age and the toll of Jason's death weighed heavily upon her. She was ready to move on, and had stopped doing chemo, living out the remainder of her days in quiet. On the walls were several pictures of Jason and his mother and other family members in various stages of their lives.

Koshka pulled several items out of the bag, including a large container of matzo ball soup, made to order with smaller balls to make it easier for Pam to eat. She'd picked up several things from the Jewish deli, and knowing who it was for, they had made the order special.

The old woman had the table set in several minutes, meticulously placing the dishes while Koshka waited patiently. Pam insisted on receiving guests the proper way, eating at the dining table instead of from a TV tray.

"Have have tings been going with Malcolm?" Pam asked after she delicately spooned some matzo broth into her mouth, savoring the heat.

"Tonight is our one-year anniversary."

"How lovely." The old woman smiled wistfully. Koshka looked around again, taking in the images of Pam's family. There was just one of her husband, taken on their wedding day. He was not a bad-looking guy, and he and Pam did make for a lovely couple, but Koshka knew very well how malice could lurk under a friendly smile. From what she knew, he had been an alcoholic who liked to come home and slap around his wife and children. Fine example he set for his two sons, who had both grown up to be men of no account. His daughters had fared no better. After nearly two decades of marriage, he'd passed from a heart attack, leaving her with a brood of children that ranged from a school-age child to a couple of surly teenagers. She'd done her best. But bad luck seemed to hound her.

Her youngest daughter had run off, abandoning Pam with a mentally disabled grandson. Fortunately, Jason had turned out decently. He was obedient to his grandmother, helpful around the house, friendly as so many simple-minded people were, and was known around the local grocery store as a hard and honest worker.

He'd been the light of his grandmother's life, showing that despite the trials she'd endured, some good had come of them. Then one night, he'd been harassed by members of a gang, resulting in his careless murder.

Now Pam was alone, and dying. She had decided to be done with chemotherapy, and let her time run out on its own. Her thirst for vengeance satisfied, she was ready to move on. It was a little sad for Koshka to see, but she understood.

They chatted a bit as Koshka made some tea, before the old woman went to her bedroom and came back with a velvet ring box. The demon glanced up at her as Pam sat back down with a gentle smile. "I know you sold this to Jason. He wanted to buy me something special, so he went to you."

Koshka nodded slowly. Jason had come to the nearest person he knew who sold jewelry, and all the better for it. She offered him a sapphire ring - Jason said that his grandmother had always loved them - at a prince considerably cheaper than what she normally would have marked it for. Then she'd offered him a simple plan where he would have the ring paid off with six easy installments. He'd paid off the fourth month before his murder, and Koshka had made no attempts to claim the remainder of the balance from his grieving grandmother.

"He told me what you liked, and I offered him a fair deal."

"Take it back, please. I know he did not finish paying it off, and I would like to return it to you as a token of appreciation for what you have done for me."

"Your family?" she asked. Pam slowly shook her head.

"They've done nothing to earn it. If they're still around, they'd just pawn the ring for more drugs or something. I'm leaving my savings to the local animal shelter."

Koshka looked down at the ring. "That ring could make someone else happy. Please make it happen," she heard Pam ask.

"As long as you don't tell anyone, of course. I have a reputation to maintain." If it got out that the big, bad vengeance demon had a bit of a soft spot for humans, who knew what that would do to her reputation. She might need to make sure her next spree was especially bloody, if circumstances called for it.

Pam had only an inkling of that. Her memories of the night she called out for vengeance were a bit hazy, but enough to console her and keep her content for the remainder of her days.

"Of course, dear." Pam had chuckled at the story of Koshka chasing away a man who had tried to sell her a stolen TV. "I hate to say it, but I'm getting tired and would like to rest. Besides, I know you need to get ready for your big night, hmm?" she asked.

"I do. Thanks for the reminder." She winked at Pam before she collected her jacket and left.

o0o

Malcolm stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath before he adjusted his glasses. Exactly one year had passed since Koshka had become acquainted with this human identity of the Puck. There was the temptation to never come clean, and simply go on living as Malcolm, and enjoying the love and affection of the demoness. Many would say, you got a good thing going, why ruin it?

Well, it was because they both deserved better. It was obvious Koshka cared for him deeply, and even though his deception had no malice behind it, he knew he was still violating her trust. It was time to come clean, even though all Puck wanted to do was just continue to enjoy his time with her and not take the chance that the incredible relationship he'd maintained with her for a year might come to an irrevocable end.

They'd just shared Chinese takeout and watched a movie while sharing ice-cream. She was sitting on his couch right now, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. He glanced at himself one more time, studying the body he'd so carefully crafted. Again, there was that temptation to keep things as they were.

Steeling himself, he returned to her side, where she curled up against him, wrapping her arm around his middle. He smiled wistfully and draped his own arm across her shoulders, hugging her tightly as he pressed his lips to her brow.

"What now? Something funny? Scary? Romantic?" He pulled up Netflix as he fiddled around with the buttons of the remote. "I have some wine too, if you're in the mood for it."

"How about we make our own personal entertainment?" Koshka asked, her eyes twinkling playfully as she looked up at him. A slow grin spread across his features as he set aside the remote and pulled her into his lap, inhaling the scent of her perfume.

"What did you have in mind, kitten?" he teased, leaning back against the comfortable couch, his arms firmly hooked around her. In response, she wiggled around in his lap, grinding against his groin. "You're an intelligent man, Malcolm. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Oh I'm sure I can," he grinned, wiggling back against her before lifting his arms to spread them across the back of the couch. "But sometimes I like hearing you say it."

"Hmm, there is that. I do like hearing you say how incredible and desirable you find me," Koshka said with a grin. "Just as I know you like it when I stroke your ego... among other parts." She lightly tapped his nose.

"And what would you like me to do now?" he replied, playfully snapping at her finger with his teeth.

"I'd like you to slowly peel off my clothes one by one, and kiss and stroke me along each area that you reveal... before bending me over the couch and fucking me like there's no tomorrow."

"Sounds like a good time," he murmured, grabbing the bottom of her shirt. She moaned and arched as he stripped her bit by bit, laving his attention on her with every touch and caress. She hissed his name, and in due time she was naked and on the receiving end of an incredible eating-out session that he did not doubt had her seeing stars. All concerns set aside for the time being, he focused on her pleasure, savoring the taste, smell, and sounds of her as he tasted her thoroughly, using his nimble tongue and fingers to bring her to her climax and eagerly lapping up his reward.

His gaze moved between her face and her nether lips. He was now long familiar with the sight of her womanhood, pale pink lips peeking out from a thatch of neatly-trimmed dark red hair, the particular shade reminding him of a particular confection.

"You know, this is the color of red velvet cake..." he whispered as he ran his fingers along the warm curls above her slit. A velvety chuckle met his ears.

"That's not the first time someone's compared me to food, but that's the tastiest thing I've been likened to."

"Mmm. And I must say, you're pretty tasty yourself." To punctuate this, he slowly ran his tongue up her slit, giving her clit one last flick before he raised his head, feeling her thighs shiver as he did so.

"You really are the perfect man," she sighed contentedly.

"I'm glad you think so, kitten." And I hope you'll feel the same way later. In due time, anyway. Puck held back a sigh as he rose to his feet, divesting himself of what remained of his clothing, cock throbbing afresh at Koshka's openly lustful stare. She wiggled around and positioned herself on the couch for easy penetration, and he knelt before her, staring down at her with a desire that he knew rivaled her own.

Resting one hand on her knee, he used the other to grasp himself, feeling the aching flesh against his fingers as he lightly slid it up and down the slick flesh that waited to admit him. She wiggled impatiently, and he grinned down at her as he teased her a bit more, pushing his hips forward a centimeter or two to bury the tip of his organ within her before wiggling around or pulling back.

"Tease," she pouted.

"Guess who I learned it from?" he shot back gently, recalling the sessions where she'd left him bereft and aching.

She mock rolled her eyes. "Touche."

He chuckled softly and leaned forward to kiss her before he sharply thrust forward, feeling her wrap her legs around him as she clenched around him.

o0o

Despite the fact that it was past midnight, Koshka was trekking with her lover through the woods. It'd been a lark, and one that at the moment had delighted her. A nice dinner, a few rounds of sex, and then instead of going to sleep, a moonlit hike. Why the hell not? Though Malcolm liked to be meticulous in his planning, when he did have a lark, it generally worked to their benefit.

They came to a stop at a bluff that overlooked the tops of trees at the other side of the stream that tumbled between the rocks. He pulled her into a side-hug, and she rested her head against his shoulder as they stared out into the silence.

"Is something the matter?" she whispered. He relaxed his grip and took a step back to look down at her, regarding her with a gentle, almost sad smile. He lifted his chin, the moonlight shining across his skin and giving his eyes an almost ethereal glow. She let out a slow breath, the warm mist dissipating into the cool air. Her gaze moved down and then back up his form, studying the man she'd come to love.

A year. It was almost hard to believe that a whole year had passed since fate brought Malcolm into her life. And what a year it'd been! Someone like Koshka was normally reluctant to use the term soul mate, but she was certain Malcolm was the one meant for her.

Of course, would he still feel that way if he knew her true nature? A human's reaction to finding out that they were the love of a magical being was varied. Some felt blessed. For others, jealousy or insecurity might eventually taint the relationship. There were humans who, with access to magic or power, would give in to their darker urges, asking favors of their lovers for their own selfish means. She didn't think Malcolm would be like that, but he was still a very rational man. How would his logical, ordered mind deal with the fact that there were indeed mystical forces in this world and that many legends had at lest some grain of truth to them?

Course, some magical beings never revealed their secret, and let their lover grow old and pass on when their time came. Could she just sit back and pretend to grow old with him, knowing that one day she would never see him again?

Damnit. This was why so many magical beings avoided getting in serious relationships with humans. Developing a significant attachment to something that was ephemeral compared to themselves led to inevitable sorrow. Humans knew it well enough with one another, regardless of what kind of relationship they had.

"You know I really enjoy being with you," Koshka commented, figuring she could hint at her true nature, and see how he responded before telling him anything definite.

"I do. And I also hope that you know I share these feelings." He caressed her cheek.

"What is it you like so much about me?" he asked in a faintly teasing tone. "I like hearing what you enjoy."

"Eh, do I have to pick one thing? I like all of you." Would you like all of me? she silently added.

He maintained his smile, but his gaze changed. He seemed focused on her, yet there was a far-off expression as if he was pondering something momentous. Her hand slid to his chest, taking reassurance in the strong heartbeat under her palm.

"So... if something was different about me... my looks, fiances, reputation... you would still want to be with me?" He sounded slightly nervous, almost perfectly hiding it under the calm exterior he generally exuded.

She raised an eyebrow but nodded. As their relationship had become serious, she'd done a background check on him. No criminal record, and no taint of dark magic. She'd met a few of his friends or acquaintances, and he'd dome the same for her, charming the people she introduced him to with his manners and calm friendliness.

"Hey, if you got your good looks through plastic surgery or something like that, I'm not going to care." she quipped, hoping to put him at ease. She also felt a bit oddly relieved, that he had his own confession to share.

"No. These good looks are all mine." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and swallowed. She straightened up a bit, lifting her head to better study him. He turned his gaze to the sky.

"It's less medical and more... magical." He turned back to her.

"Magical?" Koshka startled a bit, looking up at him. She hadn't sensed anything magical around him. Any lesser fae or demon wouldn't have escaped her notice, so it meant that Malcolm either used it without applying any of it to himself, or he was a being of considerable skill. She raised her eyebrow, entertaining the possibility that he was a demon. That was a twist one might expect in a movie or a cheesy romance novel, and she had thought that such only existed in the realm of cliché fantasies. Apparently not.

"You... know about magic?" she exclaimed softly.

"I do..." his tone already suggested he more than just knew about magic. "Now before I say more, I want you to remember all that we have shared and how we feel for one another. Frankly, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and so... I need to come clean." He sounded distinctly nervous now, his usual demeanor giving way to raw emotion.

Quickly, she reached up to touch his face. "Malcolm... I know about magic, too. So you don't need to worry about it." She trailed off, giving him an encouraging smile.

"I know," Malcolm murmured, leaning into her touch before pulling his face away. "I've known that you know about magic since we first met. Please don't be angry with me, Venjanca... although I do deserve it."

Her jaw dropped as she registered his words. "How the hell do you know who I am?" What reason might Malcolm have to know who she was? Normally, people only knew her name if they had one goal in mind. After all, it was the very meaning of her name.

"I guess I should just get this over with. Just remember what I told you before. I've never cared for anyone else as much as I do you. This last year has been incredible and the more I get to know you, the more I want to be with you." He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath as he stared into her eyes.

With barely a flourish, the visage of the man she'd come to know over the last year rippled away to reveal a silver-haired being that was long familiar to her. Devoid was the usually light, impish expression on these elfin features, Puck looking even more doleful than before.

"I thought that if I looked like that, you'd want to get to know me. And then like me."

She was so stunned that one could have knocked her over with a feather, and she felt herself become weak-kneed, nearly collapsing to the ground as she stared at the imp that had been pursuing her for well over a millennia. She found her brain having a difficult time processing this. Malcolm... was Puck. He'd been Puck all along? She thought back to all the time they'd spent together - not just having sex, but doing other things, like hiking, or going to museums, or the simple pleasure of watching movies or listening to music.