#those scratches from elimination chamber on this thigh

[d-lanx]

[ss3890]

Even When You’re Low

I’m no writer, but I had this scenario come to mind and felt like putting it out there. An ObeyMe! universe short - What happens when a particularly vicious summoning by the infamous witches interrupts the relationship between Mammon and his human?

Warning: Sexual themes, abuse, angst

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The Avatar of Greed and his human were alone in her room, winding down from the day with snuggles and an anime Levi insisted they both catch up on. The brothers demanded a lot of her time, and she often obliged them, but they had come to respect that the night belonged to her and Mammon - a privilege he jealously guarded. 

Watching over the human exchange had gone from a task he grudgingly obliged to one he treasured above all. She had begun to win him over when she got into a fight with other demons on his behalf. When she brought him his favorite cup noodles and favored him with her smiles. When she spoke to him so kindly and saw the best in him. Even more so when she came to his room and asked that he help keep his brothers out of her bed - because she trusted him absolutely and had chosen him above all others.

And so he had fallen hard for the human, his Cayrie, and everything had changed. Before they knew it, nightly cuddling had become a ritual they both looked forward to. Being intimate had become easy and natural and something more than what had been. Asmo and Belphie were not pleased and whined about it relentlessly, but over time the entirety of the House had come to respect that they belonged to each other. 

If only the rest of the worlds would do the same. 

It became increasingly harder to focus on the show. Mammon’s phone had been buzzing over and over, and the more he looked at it, the more unhappy he became. He angled the device away, not wanting her to see the notifications on the screen.

“Everything okay?” She asked, noticing his distraction.

“...No. It’s those damned witches.” He muttered. “About that time again.” Dread dripped from his words and she knew he’d have to go. He moved to get up, to prepare for the impending summoning. She halted him with a gentle grip on the wrist, leaned over, and graced his temple with a kiss.

“I’m sorry, love.” She breathed. He tried to smile in response, find his usual bravado and bluster to shrug it off - but every bit of it faltered and sputtered out like a dying flame. He knew, deep down, that this time would be unpleasant.

“...Don’t wait up for me.” Her demon sighed, giving her a lingering kiss in return. He stood and then vanished and she could do nothing but watch as the magic swept him away to another world, so far away from her. 

She stared after him for a long moment, shut off the television, and prepared herself for bed.

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It was early morning, a couple hours before the Devildom would begin to awaken, when Mammon returned to the House. All was silent and he was thankful. Disheveled, violated, aching, and missing several of his rings, the demon paused in front of Cayrie’s room. He didn’t have the courage to enter. Not like this. He didn’t want her to see him like this. 

So he went to his room instead. It was dark and quiet inside. Just what he wanted. So much self-loathing and disgust filled his heart in that moment that he just couldn’t bear it. He moved toward the couch, sat upon it with his head in his hands, and began to weep at his own wretchedness. 

The lamp by the bed snapped on. 

He stared wide-eyed at the figure laying there. Cayrie, his sweet Cayrie, was looking at the wreck of him through bleary, sleep-laden eyes. 

“Mammon?” She breathed, immediately concerned. He started and averted his gaze, ashamed and afraid of what she would think of him. He turned away, hiding behind his hair and his hands and the shadows between them.

The padding of feet and shifting of air told him she was near. Her warmth, her scent, washed over him as her hands lighted upon his. Gently, she pulled them down, taking in the sight of him with a sharp breath.  “Oh, honey,” she sighed, cupping his face in her palms, “What have they done to you?” 

 “I-I’m s-s-orry-Cae-” He choked as a sob racked through him, “...I-I h-hate them-”

She gathered him up, letting him hide in her, in her arms and her chest. “I hate them, too,” she uttered through clenched teeth, “Hate what they do to you.” They stayed like that, holding each other, for a very long while - until his sobs quieted and his body stilled against her. Only then did she pull back and wipe his cheeks with a gentle finger. 

“...How does a bath sound?” She asked. He nodded, hesitantly, without looking at her.

She knew this room as well as her own. Nightclothes and her demon were gathered up alike. She escorted him from the bedroom, toward the bathroom, with her hand pressed firmly into the small of his back. He moved obediently at the push and pull of her hand, head bowed, as she led him through the quiet hallways.

He was sat down on the edge of the tub while she went to work in silence. Only the flow of water, intermingled with the tinkling of glass jars, echoed throughout the tiled chamber. Steam swirled around her as she added several aromatics and salts to the water and laid out a handful of washcloths near the basin’s edge. Once the tub had been filled, she turned her attention back to her partner, who hadn’t moved an inch. 

Gently, very gently, she began to undress him and saw the full extent of what they’d done. The beautiful rings he treasured, including one she had bought for him, had been stolen along with whatever money he had held to his name. Bruises bloomed over his caramel skin, under the places where indents of teeth could be seen. Places like his neck, his chest, and his thighs. Scratches wove along his back, red and bloody and cruel. His face, along with several other areas of his body, were smeared with various shades of lipstick. All of it a taunt, and a claim, to what now belonged to her. 

A deep and unforgiving fury filled her heart in answer. She made a silent vow that one day those wretched humans would pay dearly, very dearly, for their heartless acts of cruelty. 

But for now, she had a job to do. Her wrath would have to wait. 

Fighting back tears of sorrow and rage, she guided her beautiful demon into the water and went to work on him. She began with his hair, lathering and massaging his scalp until she felt him loosen. He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting her wash the night’s events from his body. Once finished with his hair, she took a cloth and ran it over the welts on his back, cleansing them despite his wincing and hitches of breath. 

There was something she could do about that. Leaning in close, she spoke in a whisper, “May the vestiges of pain that linger within the demon before me be eliminated. I am the one they call Cayrie - Heed my command.” A wave of energy rippled over his skin as he relaxed noticeably, heaved a heavy sigh, and allowed her to finish without further complaint. 

With a fresh cloth, she moved around the basin and began to clean his face. Still, he hadn’t looked at her - but after a long moment of wiping away the makeup, he spoke.

“..I don’t deserve you, Cayrie.” 

It was hardly more than a whisper. She stared at him, set down the cloth, and raised his chin until he finally met her eyes. 

“I’ll be the judge of that. Me, not anyone else.” She uttered, full of conviction. “I chose you, and I still choose you.” Blue eyes held blue, and despite himself, he knew it to be true. “We’re pacted, you and I. You belong to me, as I belong to you. Nothing those vile creatures do to you will ever change that, Mammon.”

He was in awe of her, this human, even as he was crushed by the heavy shame weighing on his heart. He could see the icy rage hiding in the depths of her eyes, her stubbornness and ferocity, but above all, shone her brilliant love for him. There lay the promise she would never throw him away, that she would continue to love and fight for him - truths he couldn’t deny. 

The witches could take many things away from him, but he couldn’t allow them to take this. No, because this, right here before him, was the greatest treasure in all the worlds - and she belonged to him. 

He leaned forward and took her lips in his, cupping her face and bringing her in to himself. Her warmth, her scent, her touch - like the water, it washed over him and cleansed his ruined self. He would not let them take this. He would never let them taint this. 

She pulled away to look at him, a silent question held within her eyes. He answered in turn with a look of yearning and a gentle tug on the sleeve of her shirt.

Nightclothes fell off her frame, heaped and forgotten on the cool tile. Carefully, deliberately, she eased herself into the water, straddling his hips so that she faced him. She took up a cloth and continued her washing of him, tender and mindful. She would lean in every now and then and kiss his lips, kiss his wounds - as if she willed them to disappear. He watched, ever enraptured, at her form moving over him and submitted to her completely.  

She washed him from head to toe, and when she was finished, she came back to him and nestled beside with tender kisses. The water was cooling yet she was still warm against his skin. He found himself responding to her and carefully guided her back to her previous position. She had done so much for him already, but there was one last thing he needed to do. 

He was no longer interested in being submissive. She became so in turn, allowing him complete control. His lead was hers to follow, as he sought to reclaim himself. 

Hands on her thighs, he shifted her hips and found himself home.

She fell upon him with a sigh and a kiss and echoed herself in his rhythm. 

They were slow and deliberate, taking their time to reclaim what was theirs. He both lost and found himself in her, his human, who loved him even when he felt so broken. When he felt so undeserving, so - but she kissed those thoughts away from him, pushed them out of his mind with every rock of her hips and pleasured sigh on her lips. 

He held her close, shuddering as he found his release, as he renewed his claim on her. His patient, beautiful human cradled him so sweetly in answer, showering him with tender kisses and words of affirmation that made him melt utterly and completely into her.

“I love you, Cayrie. More than I know how to say.” he breathed. 

She held him tighter to her.

“I love you, too. Always.” she crooned. 

“...Even when you’re low.”