Grinning Sun
“Don't get comfy, nigga” Demise said, glaring at him from behind her thick glasses. “This doesn't make us, friends, partners, or teammates.”
The haughty witch gave him a final, contemptuous glance over her shoulder before she turned away and began packing items, dropping each into the starry patterned abyss of the inside of her cape.
“Aww, come on ma, don't be like that.” Sunstroke said, and she could hear his broad grin even without looking at him. “You know you can't get enough of me. You want me as bad as you did the first-”
“Nigga, I'll kill you.” She interrupted him, more a threat than a declaration.
Then she felt him behind her and regretted turning her back on him. He pressed into her back, his broad, muscled body firm and supernaturally, obscenely warm. His heat danced along her dark brown skin and flowed through her body. For a moment he stayed there, his chest pressed into the back of her shoulders, his hand on her hip.
“No, you wouldn't. But you'd get way closer than most people.” Sunstroke teased, voice low and timorous. His black, curly beard tickled the back of her neck and she could hear mischief in his tone. Demise didn't have to turn around to see him in her mind, brown face creased with self satisfaction, dark brown eyes glowing yellow-white with power.
She snuggled into him, rubbing her thick, curvy ass against him until she felt his dick harden beneath the pants of his costume.
He faltered, and she spun to face him, getting a good grip on his chest plate. She pulled on a wisp of her dark magic and pulled the brawny hero down until they were eye to eye.
“Dont forget what i do to heroes like you. Go chase that Brazilian frog girl if you wanna fuck around.”
“What if i wanna fuck around with you? Kerolina is bad and she do that thing with her tongue, but she isn't gonna hit the same. She can't do what you do. I don't know what it is about you,” Sunstroke paused to look her up and down, “but you're the one i keep coming back to. I want you.”
She tried hard not to blush, grateful that her dark complexion mostly hid her embarrassment.
“Jackass.” She yelled, suddenly aware of his eyes on her body even as she pushed him away. Demise knew herself: short, voluptuous, soft, dark brown skin, with eerie yellow eyes and black sclera and long braids colored purple and black. She'd long used her body as a weapon, or a tool, or a distraction, but Sunstroke drank her in in a way few did, in a way she allowed few to do.
A hero she couldn't promptly thrash posed a problem to her, professionally. Personally though, she liked the kind of problem he represented. More than that, she begrudgingly admitted. She liked him.
“Save that corny cornball shit till after we kill Astariel.” Demise said, pang of desperate arousal subsiding. “I'm not trying to think about you in sepia tones.”
And there was that smile again
“Damn, not 'sepia toned'” he laughed. “But you're right. We'll come back to this.”
“I'm what?” Demise asked, now smiling herself.
Sunstroke's eyes widened as he recognized his mistake.
“I'm what? I didn't hear you.” Demise repeated, preening. She knew exactly how curvy, how thicc she was, and how he felt about that.”
“You're fucking annoying.” He said eyes narrowing, and Demise felt the momentum of their banter shift. She had him on the ropes. She wanted to pin him.
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