Title; Heathens

Pairing; Finn Bálor/Reader, Demon!Finn/Reader

Summary; I should have run screaming in the other direction like I was told to.

Words; 5,965

Warnings; NSFW. Discussion of mental health, secret societies, implied physical assault, stalking, dubcon.

I had always been… sensitive.

My parents had thought I'd had a wild, if sometimes slightly disturbing imagination, when I was a toddler. It was when I was in grade school that they began to think something was wrong with me. It was after the third or fourth visit to a child psychologist, that I learned to keep what I knew I was seeing to myself. To not speak of it to any childhood friends or write it down anywhere because I was the first and only child of two helicopter parents. I didn't want to take anymore pills that made me feel not like myself. What was happening wasn't because of a psychiatric disorder or a chemical imbalance.

How do you explain to someone that you can see the others, even when the others were trying to not be seen? That you knew the elderly, kind looking gentleman next door had fangs and a taste for the neighborhood cats? That little Jimmy, then in the second grade with me, had a been struggling with monthly moon problems since kindergarten? That the pretty lady providing the weather report on the news was actually tinted blue, with wings that looked like they were made of gossamer?

It was Grandmére who understood though, who never made me feel like I was defective for seeing the things I did. It made those monthly weekend visits so much more precious to me. Grandmére cut an imposing figure, she was tall, statuesque, and forever done up to the nines and I hero worshipped her for most of my formative years. She'd told me that I wasn't broken, that I was just the way the Powers That Be intended me to be.

It was Grandmére who had showed me the Grimoire, thinking I was a hedgewitch like her. It was quickly apparent that I had no magical ability, just the gift to see. She didn't act disappointed or put out, just set to work on helping me control my ability, especially after the panic attack I had had upon seeing my first ghoul. It had taken me almost two years of regular meditation and exercises to be able to switch from seeing to regular vision, similar to how normal people are able to switch from seeing at a distance to seeing something up close.

Grandmére had given me the Bestiary on my fourteenth birthday, a couple months before her death. It was a thick, clearly old, leather bound book, the covers smeared with something that looked rusted and dark. I was too afraid to ask what it was on the covers, especially since it looked the same dark, rusty liquid had been dripped across more than a couple pages. The older woman didn't say where she had gotten it, but it was heavily implied that I wasn't the only one in the world who could see the others. The warning to never go find others like me, however, was explicit and direct.

The Bestiary was filled with descriptions, origins, and even moving pictures. Grandmére had smiled when I had turned to her, eyes filled with wonder, and explained that some magical folk were gifted enchanters and could spell the ink to move. The elderly man in the neighborhood with the fangs? A Strigoi, a blood drinker identified by the two pairs of large incisors along the top and bottom jaws, black eyes, and a paralytic saliva. Jimmy, my classmate from the second grade with the furry little problem? A turned werewolf with no control yet over his shifts. The weather lady on channel five? A water sprite.

I studied that old tome for years, carried it with me almost everywhere, and I still haven't gotten through all of it. It felt like for every page I got through, another five appeared. I'd even turned back to a page I thought I knew like the back of my hand and there was new information that hadn't been there previously. On the rare occasions that I had tried to add something to the book, the writing had disappeared, only to sometimes reappear later, sometimes with "recently confirmed" in unfamiliar writing next to my own. There were darker things too, next to the descriptions, such as preferred prey, hunting patterns, anti-toxin recipes, methods to repel the dark… It was because of this that I salted my windows and door ways every night and slept with the old charm bag of acacia, monkshood, birch, and devil's shoestring that Grandmére had given me underneath my pillow.

It was almost ten years to the day of coming into possession of the Beastiary that I had found myself in the predicament that I was currently in. When I had taken the job as a production assistant with World Wrestling Entertainment three weeks ago, I had thought it would be like every other job I'd had in television, with a normal, meaning small, amount of the others interspersed in the population of the company. It was when I showed up to Full Sail for a taping of NXT that I had nearly swallowed my tongue and run the other way.

Almost everyone was inhuman, both the talent and the crew. Humans were the minority.

The current champions, Shinsuke Nakamura and Asuka were both kitsune. The Bestiary was unsure whether to call them spirits or demons, as their kind were pretty morally fluid. SAnitY were an odd mixture of werejackals and werewolves that I was still shocked were able to coexist together. Billie Kay and Peyton Royce were both nymphs of undetermined origins. The parade of others just didn't end and my anxiety that first day was at an all time high, my body in what felt like a permanent state of stress. Thankfully, the others, especially since the weres made up a majority of the roster, with sensitive noses merely attributed the stress, anxiety, and touch of fear that must have been rolling off of me in waves to having just started and being new in my position.

It took days for me to loosen up, but it eventually did happen.

I could see them, but they had no idea that I saw their true natures. There was a subtle comfort in the knowledge that as long as I didn't stare too hard or said the wrong thing, I was safe.

Certainly safer than I had been in New York City.

I had been at Full Sail University and with NXT for three months when it all began to unravel. I had begun to make friends, both with the crew and the talent. We'd practically lived in each other's pockets, so it was only natural to socialize. Shinsuke had practically charmed his way into a friendship, proclaiming that we had been the best of friends in a past life, and Ember, yet another werewolf, had become my road buddy, sharing rooms with me when the NXT crew had traveled.

I'd noticed that Ember had been growing steadily more on edge, aggressive, and prone to snapping at those who so much as looked at her wrong. It wasn't until I saw her eyes flash gold without even switching my sight that I knew something was wrong. I'm still upset that it took me as long as it did to put it together: she hadn't shifted since I'd met her. She'd been forcing back the change and now her inner beast was pushing to the forefront of her consciousness.

Which brought me to my current predicament of essentially chasing Hunter Hearst Helmsley down a hallway, every one step of his long legs being almost three of my own, and pleading with him that Ember needed to be taken out of her match. He'd pretty much swatted down all of my excuses for why she shouldn't compete and I grew desperate.

"You can't let her go out there, Hunter." I begged of the large blonde man as he walked away. "She's-"

Hunter was almost to the main hallway when I whispered the next words, "She's not safe right now."

He stopped suddenly, and in the blink of an eye, I was pinned to the wall of the hallway, hidden by stacked crates and just out of sight, a large hand grasping my throat and my toes dragging on the floor. His grip wasn't tight enough to bruise, but was just enough to make oxygen precious.

"You've got three seconds to explain yourself." His eyes flashed dangerously as I gasped, the grip on my throat making my lungs burn and feet flail. The air in the hallway was thick with tension and I knew that now was not the time to try and keep my secret.

"I - I- can seethat the moon is affecting her. She's been putting off her shift for months." With each word, the grip on my throat lessened, until I was dropped onto my knees on the floor. I coughed and rubbed at my throat for a couple of moments, when Hunter was back in my face again. This time, he needn't put hands on me, because his face… changed.

His hazel eyes were shifting to gold, his brow was growing heavier, tufts of fur growing on the sides of his face, and the teeth were elongated just enough to peek out his lips. "How long have you been able to… see this change in Ember?" The unspoken threat in the air was made heavier by the growl in his soft words. I made a concerted effort to shift my eyes to the floor and I tilted my head so far to the right that my ear touched my shoulder and my neck, a little red from his grip, was left painfully exposed. Those like him needed a show of submission, of vulnerability.

"I am no threat to your pride, Hunter. I just can't bear to have someone get hurt because I didn't say anything," I murmured my words, knowing that no matter how softly I spoke, he would be able to hear. "I've been able to see those like you since I was a child." I was shaking like a leaf, my sweaty palms clasped tightly on my thighs.

Things changed after my words and show of submission. It felt like a vacuum sucked the tension out of the hall.

"Look at me damnit. I'm not gonna hurt you." Hunter said, rubbing his hand over his face, looking a little disgusted with himself. I looked up, eyes wide. "And you don't do that again. You don't need to submit to anyone in this company, ever. That's not how we do things."

My nod was miniscule, my body was still shaking violently. When I had been… discovered by others, the handful of times it had happened, the reaction was never calm and more often than not, violent. I still bore a wicked scar of a lamia bite at the back of my neck from when I was 17 in my first weeks at college. It was better to be safe than sorry, barely relaxing my show of submission.

"I want you to go to my office immediately and stay there. I'm going to go evaluate Ember myself. When I get back to my office, we're going to have a conversation."

His tone was firm, not hard, but he meant business. I gulped down my anxiety and nodded. Hunter's eyes softened at the edges, the previous shift of gold long gone. "You're not in trouble, you're safe here (Y/N)."

I nodded again, still silent, and quickly shuffled down the maze of hallways to the specified office. I walked with my head down, avoiding eye contact, and just generally trying to pass by unnoticed. I was successful, ducking into the office, and sitting on the couch, knees pulled close and held tight to my chest. If Hunter did intend to cause me harm, there was little to nothing I could do to stop him.

Time ticked by at a glacial pace, just long enough for me to start thinking of an escape plan. I'd planned far enough to my escape from the parking lot, when the office door opened and in stepped Hunter Helmsley, his wife Stephanie McMahon, and his brother in law, Shane McMahon.

I was now in a room where a literal lion and two of the most magically gifted peoples in the company stood between me and the door. I could practically see the magic in the siblings' auras crackling around them and my anxiety and fear shot through the roof. Hunter's face scrunched up as if he were in pain.

"Steph, Shane I'm gonna need you guys to reign it in, she can sense your magic and she's terrified right now."

Shane's face softened immediately, the swirls of blue and gold magic practically retreating into himself. Stephanie stood stony faced, her purple and gold magic retreating infinitesimally, and arched a delicately shaped eyebrow. "What's a stage hand have to do with you pulling Ember from the card?"

Hunter turned to me, his face encouraging.

"I can see those who aren't human and Ember has been putting off her shift for at least three months."

It was just barely a beat of silence and then both Shane and Stephanie were talking at once.

"How long have you been able to do this?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

"Can you control it?"

"Is there anything else you can do?"

"You should have said something, you'd be so much more useful elsewhere besides being an assistant."

The questions continued on, neither of the McMahon siblings stopping to allow me to answer. They continued to talk over each other and ask questions as my hands began to shake again, words stopping in my throat, and the walls felt like they were closing in.

Hunter, who'd stayed silent while his wife and brother in law had begun to pelt me with questions, cut them off, his voice quiet and rumbling.

"From what I've gathered, she's like Shawn. And I'm sure she'd be happy to answer your questions to the best of her ability if you would allow her to speak."

The two siblings hushed at his words, both pairs of eyes widening. Hunter's lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners, meant to encourage me.

I was reticent to speak, but the three sets of eyes were unwavering.

"I've been able to seethose I've been calling otherssince before I can remember. At first my parents thought I'd had an overactive imagination, but it never stopped. I was sent to child psychologist after child psychologist and force fed pills like there was something wrong with me. When its only your grandmother, who was a low level hedgewitch, believing you that you see the things you do, you stop talking about it very quickly."

The words were flowing out of me faster than I could stop them. I hadn't spoken to anyone about what I had seen since Grandmére had died ten years ago and the thought of telling people who would understand, was a catharsis too sweet to pass up.

The Bestiary, the nearly useless to me Grimoire, the handful of attacks by others I'd survived over the years, what happened in New York…

It was three hours before all three had had their questions satisfied and I was left feeling weightless, having unburdened myself of all the secrets I had kept pent up.

It was another hour while the werelion and two magic users, I wasn't sure about their preferred nouns, deliberated on my fate. Shane, whom I had warmed up to quickly, was lobbying hard for me to come to Smackdown, to be an assistant to both himself and Daniel Bryan, the half-troll General Manager. Stephanie had shut that down quickly, with a quip about Shane's Wyatt Family problem. Shane's face soured and he had glared at his little sister.

It was decided. I was going to RAW within the week, to be an assistant under the watchful eye of Stephanie and Hunter, which left me not a lot of time for goodbyes.

Ember was unreachable, currently in an undisclosed location in Connecticut to run off her shift. When I had approached Shinsuke to apologize for my deception by omission, he'd just laughed and waved off my apology. "You don't live as long as I have without being able to identify those who are gifted," he shared sagely, his grin mischievous. It was through my second sight that I could see his six tails twitching in mirth at the shock that was surely on my face. "If anyone gives you trouble on the roster, just call me, I'll sort it for you."

The word of my ability spread through the company like wildfire and there was nary a negative word from those at Full Sail or in NXT. I had a sneaking suspicion that the charismatic Japanese world champion had had a lot to do with that.

The week ended entirely too soon and I was sent to RAW.

I'd fully expected a frosty welcoming, as by now my identity would have been made known to the entire roster. I was pleasantly surprised when, as soon as I had opened the door to the arena, I was swept up into a hug by an enthusiastic brownie named Bayley.

It was while wrapped up in this embrace and listening to Bayley babble an excited welcome, while trying to introduce myself, that I'd felt it.

The hair on the back of my neck was standing up, a slow crawl of dread working its way down my spine. I worked with people that would be considered predators in most cultures, but I had never felt this, never felt so on edge. This was the primordial feeling of being hunted by something with a lot more teeth than I did. What was even more disconcerting? I was in a busy hallway, there was no way to let me know what was stalking me.

Never had I been so thankful for the small charm bag around my neck from Stephanie that masked my scent, because there were entirely too many weres in this building to not be affected by the fear and panic that must have been rolling off of me in waves. I'd had to choke down my response to run as far and as fast from the arena, my muscles already locking up in preparation for the flight from impending danger. I couldn't, as I was here at the request of Stephanie and Hunter. So it was with a shaky smile at Bayley, that I had blamed on nerves, that we'd set off down the hallway in pursuit of catering and adventure, according to my companion. I would feel the eyes of a predator on me for the rest of the night that night.

Seth Rollins, a particularly affectionate and handsome incubus (which is saying a lot), was quick to attach himself to me upon my arrival at RAW. He'd approached Bayley and I in catering, much to Bayley's displeasure as evidenced by the way her face scrunched in distaste, and introduced himself with a florish and a kiss to my knuckles.

He crowed his laughter at the flush of my face before taking my other arm and accompanying Bayley and I in Bayley's quest to introduce me to every stage hand and member of the locker room. I met most everyone that night. It was a more than pleasant surprise at how warm and open most of the locker room was, despite the tiffs they may have had with one another.

"The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite." ~American Horror Story, S1.E6, Piggy Piggy

I'd been traveling with the RAW roster for weeks and I had literally met everyone, thanks to Bayley and Seth.

Everyone but the recently returned Irishman, Finn Bálor.

I had been told that Finn was… different.

It was odd, as Bayley was terribly close with him. She'd made no effort to introduce me to him, almost never bringing his name up.

Whenever I would press the person speaking for more details, no one would clarify their statements. They would clam up and nervously change the subject. Even the normally effervescent Bayley hadn't said much. "When Finn's Finn, he's great. It just… yknow, forget I said anything." Nobody would give me an explanation for why he practically ran from any room I was in. I hadn't asked Seth, due to the thundercloud that gathered over his handsome face whenever the Irishman was brought up in casual conversation.

I'd figured their reluctance to speak about Finn Bálor was due to the non-corporeal shadow figure that seemed to follow Finn around. The figure was a near perfect twin for him, if not for the ever shifting black mass across it's "skin" and the neat row of fangs that peaked through it's lips whenever it smirked at me. It was whenever the figure had made eye contact with me that the Irishman had literally run, without ever having laid eyes on me himself. It was a mystery and I was curious to solve it.

I hadn't had to consult the Bestiary since my secret was made public. I was able to shyly ask Bayley or Seth my questions, still in awe of the new and open relationships I had with members of the others. It was due to the silence of the locker room in face of questions about Finn that I had turned back to the tome. It took several days of research for me to find it.

Demons and Demonic Possession.

This was a chapter I had skipped over a lot during my studies of the Bestiary. Too many pages were splattered on by or written in a dark, rusty liquid and just staring at the chapter when I was younger was enough to give me nightmares.

There were easily one hundred pages of notes on demonic possession, detailing warning signs, patterns of possession, and methods to remove demonic forces. What really threw me was page twenty one which was blank except for two sentences: A book of references separate of this has been compiled of all known demons. Please write the name of the demon to receive what is known.

I don't know what had possessed me to write Finn's name down, but there it was, in my chicken scratch writing.

Finn Bálor

The ink settled into the page, then disappeared. I figured it would be days before I learned anything new, based on prior experiences with writing in the Bestiary. How wrong I was.

Within minutes of writing in the Bestiary, the blank twenty first page began to fill, with a ferocity and speed that terrified me.

RUNRUNFROMTHEDEMONKING

DON'T TURN BACK TO MEET THE FACE OF A FALLEN ONE

RUN AND NEVER STOP

Within a minute, the entire page was completely black with ink and unintelligible. Then, at the blink of an eye, the page wiped clean, like the page was not just full of scribbles telling me to run. Slowly, elegant cursive handwriting began to curve across the page.

There is no demon by the name of Finn known to us at this time.

There is, however, a Bálor. Our information regarding this being is incomplete. Written records are hard to come by and word of mouth accounts of the demon are inconsistent at best.

The first mention of Bálor in any text was in a now lost Book of Revelation where the demon is described as an angel that had fallen with Lucifer and would do battle at His side as a lesser King of Hell during the Christian Apocalypse. We have our suspicions that it is indeed older than the Christian God, but there has been no meaningful record ever found to prove as much.

The accounts we have indicate that Bálor is rather partial to making deals, in exchange for humanoid souls. The demon is ruthless in its pursuit of payment, having sent hellhounds after an entire clan to collect the soul of the dealmaker.

It is said that there was a battle near a millenia ago, between the Kings of Hell, and Bálor was severely weakened in that battle, destroying its body and leaving its life force adrift in the world. We have heard whispers of humans making deals with it in exchange for a soul, in order to become strong enough to create a corporeal form again. The last known whereabouts of the demon were in Japan, having taken a business man's soul in exchange for the man's business to flourish.

If you have indeed come across this demon or someone being possessed by this demon, it is best to use caution and avoid contact at all costs. It is unknown if Bálor will react to normal demonic deterrents, as its actual nature and origins are unknown. If the demon has taken an interest in you, run.

Stay safe.

For days after the writing on the page had faded away, I was walking in a haze. It was hard to believe that the sweet man that all of my friends had described had made a deal with essentially an exiled demon king.

My curiosity couldn't be held off any longer. He'd seemed surprised when I had marched up to him, grabbed an arm, and pulled him into an empty dressing room.

"Why do you avoid me? Did I do something wrong?"

Finn flinched like he had been slapped and shook his head, beginning to look anxious, his hands fidgeting at his sides and his eyes darting to the door. The shadow figure behind him inched closer, a smirk beginning to grow wide on its face.

"It's not ya, luv. It's me, don't trust m'self. 'ow'd Bayley let ya out of 'er sight?"

My interest spiked even further and I took a step towards the man, ignoring his question and the implication it raised. "I'm afraid I'm going to need you to explain, this is probably the most interaction we have ever had with each other."

"'e caught a taste o' yer scent (Y/N) and 'e liked it. Please, 'm pleadin' wit ya, stay away from me." the handsome Irishman begged, taking a step back in reaction to my step forward.

"Who are you talking about Finn?"

He shook his head, looking more and more desperate to leave the room that we were in. "Ah know ya can see 'im (Y/N). 'E knows ya can see 'im."

I gulped. This was not what I was expecting.

"Did you make a deal?" I tried to choose my words carefully. It was quickly becoming apparent that I had misjudged the situation and that I was very, very wrong. The slow crawl of dread began down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. The room itself felt like it began to darken and shrink in on the two of us.

The shadow figure was practically hovering over Finn's shoulder, its eyes narrowed in interest, the tips of fangs peeking out over the tops if its lips. The former champion gave a self-depreciating laugh and shook his head, sweat beginning to bead at his brow, skin paling. "Oh but I did, just no' in the way yer expectin'."

I opened my mouth to ask another question when he cut me off, grunting in what sounded like pain and hunching over.

"Ya need t' leave now (Y/N). Go find Bayley, she'd keep ya safe. I can't hold 'im off for much longer, cause 'e really, really wants ta meet ya."

I stepped forward in concern, in an instinctive, natural response to comfort a being in pain, when I saw it.

The shadowy figure was merging into Finn's body. The majority of its lower body had combined into his, the shadow slipping into the Irishman's torso, causing a grunt of pain. Finn looked up at me as the entity had was nearly finished combining with him, desperation on his face, and breathed, "Run."

I didn't get a chance to reply as the gray iris of his eyes flicked to red and a feline smirk settled across his features. The skin of Finn's face suddenly looked like it had been pulled too tight, his features much more pronounced and sharp. The Irishman was handsome normally, but whatever this shift was had made him devastating.

"I've been wantin' to meet ya for a while, kitten." The voice that came from Finn's mouth was much too deep, the accent roughening.

"You're not Finn. What did you do with him?" I demanded, eyes wide with worry.

It blinked at me languidly, staying silent as it stretched in a slow, feline manner. The way it arched Finn's muscular body towards me was lewd and made my face burn. It didn't react to the heat of my face, observing me in a cool and dispassionate manner before answering my question.

"Y'right, kitten. I ain't 'im. Finn's still up 'ere though." It tapped at Finn's temple with the thumb and finger shaped like a gun with roguish twist to his lips. "He really does tink yer pretty, wants me to leave yeh alone. Says ye don't deserve us wreckin' yer life, the fookin' dogooder. But I think that you're perfect for us."

I gulped, taking a couple steps back. "Who are you?"

It stretched Finn's mouth into a grin that felt more like a cat who's cornered a mouse. The action caught me off guard and it was when I blinked that it was suddenly in front of and around me, having moved impossibly quick and banded thick arms my body. I froze at the close contact, my discomfort and fear ratcheting up at the touch of whatever had taken over Finn's body. The fear left me cold, despite the almost overwhelming heat radiating off of Finn's body. I had a sinking suspicion that I knew exactly what it was, but I needed the confirmation.

"Don't play coy, it doesn't suit ya. M'name's Bálor and I'm gonna make you ours."

Bálor didn't let the declaration hang in the air for long, craning its neck down, and slamming its lips against mine. The crash of lips against mine was too violent and too sudden, my lower lip splitting and the taste of copper filling my mouth.Bálor's lips were on mine for a fraction of a second before it flinched backwards, having screwed up Finn's face in anger and lips touched red with my blood.

"Fookin' McMahons and their meddlin'." Too quick to react, Bálor had ripped the small necklace with the charm bag given to me by Stephanie from my neck and flung it across the room. The sting of pain in my lip and in my neck spurred me into action, striking at his shoulders with closed fists and kicking out at shins with my legs. No action I took made Bálor flinch, his face condescendingly indulgent.

"Ya done?" he smirked before pushing us back and pinning me against lockers and his body. I was pinned against a wall with nowhere to go, both wrists held over my head by one large hand.

"Wouldn't recommend doin' that luv. I like it when they fight back." Bálor purred, before pressing his lips back against mine, groaning at the taste of the crimson liquid in his mouth. The way his body and lips were pressed against me was enough to make me gasp and he took advantage of my parted lips to plunder my mouth with his tongue and teeth. The press of his tongue against mine and the hard bulge pressing into my lower abdomen made me whimper, helpless to stop Bálor and helpless to stop the slick between my thighs.

"Pl-please stop, I don't want this," I gasped against his lips, unable to push him away with my hands above my head. Bálor didn't even acknowledge my plea, as his free hand was traveling up the front of my shirt to the collar. With a quick jerk of his arm, the fabric of my shirt tore effortlessly, leaving my torso and cotton bra exposed to the air of the room. The cool air on my overheated flesh was enough to cause my breasts to stiffen into peaks. His mouth and tongue were still moving feverishly against mine as his free hand slipped underneath the wire of my bra to cup the globe of flesh and to pinch at my pebbled nipple. The jolt of pleasure-pain was punctuated by the moan that snuck out of my mouth.

He chuckled at the sound, gave another pinch to the tightened nub, and then his hand was gone. I whimpered involuntarily at the loss of his touch.

"Oh 'm not done wit ya yet kitten. I plan on takin' the time to take ya apart until yer only capable of beggin' and our names."

His hand began to travel towards the button of my work pants, his lips pressed against my neck. The scrape of his facial hair left my legs trembling and my body arching into the sensations.

"Not just me either, Finn wants ya as well, but he's too timid ta take what 'e wants. 've had to sit back fer weeks watchin' him pine after ya like a love sick schoolboy. This is as much 'is fault as yers."

He had made quick work of the button and fly of my work pants and was pushing them down along with my panties when I noticed it. The telltale swirls of purple and gold magic around the door of the dressing room, followed by various colorful curses. Stephanie McMahon had somehow known of the danger I was in and was outside of the dressing room, attempting to get in. Bálor was seemingly unperturbed, the door was to his back, and I took a sharp inhale of breath at the first press of his fingers against the swollen flesh between my thighs.

The rush of blood in my ears sounded like static and drowned out the commotion in the hallway. Bálor was smirking into my neck and pressing open mouthed kisses into the flesh there with every deft twist, stroke, and plunge of his fingers. All fight left my body as I was overwhelmed by the sensations that the demon was able to evoke from me, now reduced to a whimpering and quivering mess.

"Ya feel like heaven kitten. Finn's been dreamin' about this fer weeks, ya comin' apart for us. 'e was tryin' to say ye didn't want this, but yer cunt is grabbin' at m'fingers so greedily…"

I could feel the telltale flutters of an orgasm beginning in my muscles as he spoke. Bálor seemed to sense it as well, doubling his efforts, and quickening the pace with which his thumb flicked over the little hardened bundle of nerves between my legs.

"Gonna make you scream kitten. Yer gonna let every damn person in this buildin' know that ye belong to us, that its Bálor makin' ya scream."

I was so close, so so so close, my toes curling in anticipation, when the door to the dressing room literally blew off the hinges with a crack.

The force of the magic sent the door flying and splintering towards where Bálor had me pressed against the wall. He moved preternaturally fast to face the blast, dropping me and the fingers wrenched from my cunt to catch pieces of the door that were coming at us. He was too slow to catch a rather large, jagged piece of wood and all I could remember was a blinding pain in my temple.

Everything went black.