Saints Preserve Us-Revisited

Peyton could hardly believe that the entire home - windows, flooring, walls, and even the ceiling, were all original. It was incredibly difficult to find a home as aged as this one that stood without swaying in the wind and requiring more work to be put into it than was worth. She could almost feel the humidity in the breif time she had been there beginning to toy with her hair. Instincitively, she pulled the long curly locks into a messy bun before proceeding to follow Abbadon from room to room, listening to his explanation of the history of his home with much precision and pride. Had she owned something so extraordinary, she too would be one to brag. Instead, she owned a boring apartment located in the busy city of Chicago. There was no charm about it, not like what the plantation possessed. "Whomever you have paid for the upkeep of your property has done a magnificent job. I would have been fooled to believe that it was completely restored unless you stated otherwise." The was house impeccible in comparison to other homes she had visted. Very few were in as wonderful condition as Abbadon's, and those tended to be few and far between.

"I've done most of the work myself actually. It's been under the Solace name for many, many years-since it was built actually." That technically wasn't a lie-Abbadon just didn't feel the need to clarify that it was a one owner property and had only been under Abbadon Solace. "The kitchen is down the hall, there's someone there to prepare meals every morning. If it's not morning you can find the meals, prepared, in the fridge-just heat them up. A maid comes every day as well, so don't fret about any messes made." Abbadon explained as he stepped into another room, walking her through the layout of the first floor. There a more modern den which was done in earthy tones and plush taupe couches surrounding a large tv. A small breakfast nook painted a baby blue with as many windows as would fit in the tiny room, a formal dining room that was executed in a surprisingly Gothic fashion for the sunny home, two bathrooms, and an office that doubled as a library. "Upstairs, there are several bedrooms-pick whatever one you like. The one at the end of the hall is mine-do not go in it." Abbadon's voice was light as he had walked her through the house, but his last sentence was a firm, serious tone.

Peyton's eyes followed Abbadon's hand as he pointed out the various different rooms. There was no doubt in her mind that she would enjoy her stay in Louisiana at this point. She had already begun her way into the foyer when Abbadon spoke again. This was the first and only time in their short-lived encounter that any suspicion was raised. It wasn't alarm, persay, but instead a peculiarity that she prodded with her mind but forbid herself to question aloud. Gripping the handle of her suitcase, she made her way toward the staircase, running a hand along the intricate designs engraved in the wood. She then turned to glance over her shoulder, her eyes easily landing on Abbadon's much taller figure. "Mm.. That's a shame, I was so looking forward to your company at night." She muttered, making her way up the stairwell. Just as he had said, there were several bedrooms to choose from on the second floor of the plantation house. Her eyes rested on the one she was instructed to steer clear of, hovering there for a moment before opening several doors and sizing up the views from each. Eventually Peyton settled on a room nestled just off centre and to the right of the stairwell.

Abbadon could see the hint of suspicion in Peyton's face when he forbid her from his room. Almost amused at this was the first sign she had picked up on during their time together. Not the bite on her neck, not the fact he refused to give her much information on himself, not the paintings in the living room. It was he didn't allow people in his bedroom. His room was where he allowed himself to be the demon he was. His fangs were exposed, his large black wings visible, his pupils were cat like, his nails became claws, and his instincts over ruled his thoughts. He wasn't the god-like creature he was when he was in public-he was a monster and he looked every bit as menacing as he was. If Peyton saw that-she'd run and he'd have to kill her. He didn't want that-not yet. Maybe in a few years when she discovered that he didn't age and caught on to what was really going on. He'd hold that off as long as he could though. He had a certain fondness for the human.

Peyton set the vintage-like suitcase down on the queen sized bed that her room was furnished with. Along with that, there was an armoire, vanity, seating off to the side next to a large window that allowed tons of natural light, and a full length mirror setting off to the side. The large window that covered most of the far wall had a marvellous view of the rolling hills out in the distance, a barn along with other sheds and what appeared to be slave quarters that were in pristene condition. It was as if time had not aged any of the buildings, and she were, almost literally, able to walk in the footsteps of those from the past. "Abbadon, darling, the barn I can see from my room, is it just something you've kept merely for looks or does it actually have purpose and function?" Peyton inquired, drawing herself away from the window and over to the stairwell. She glanced down at him with curious eyes, wondering what all this place he occasionally called home had to offer for her.

Abbadon followed Peyton's call up the stairs and to the room she had chosen. He looked out the window at small barn. "There are a couple horses out there, Molly and Jake. They're both up in their 20s though." He had lived here since the days of horse and buggies and he preferred to keep an air of the old days around. Ever since the car had become the main mode of transportation, he had still kept a couple old carriage horses on the farm. "They're quite friendly if you want to go out and visit them. They're only broke to drive though and they haven't done that in years so I wouldn't jump on them." Abbadon spoke as he threw the suitcase he had packed for her on the bed and unzipped with a smirk on his face as he gestured towards the contents. Some leather corsets, lacy teddies, a few naughty get ups. "There are some... play things. In there. Leave what ever you're comfortable with out." He gestured towards a small bag in the the suitcase that held handcuffs and the sort.

Peyton leaned against one of the poles of the canopy bed, curiously watching as Abbadon pulled the contents out for her to examine. Several of the clothing, all of which were very scantily clad, perked her interest. There were very few items of clothing that didn't suit her fancy, as could be said for the 'toys' Abbadon had also been thoughtful enough to pack for their little 'business' trip. She thoughtlessly tossed them into the bag and dropped it on the floor, kicking it underneath the bed just enough to be out of view. "We won't be needing those." Peyton insisted, reaching for the riding crop that lay on the bed and swatting his backside a bit more firmly than she would have attempted on anyone else. He seemed to be a sadist, so she highly doubted it would cause him any more pain than that of a bee sting. "When is your meeting tonight?" She questioned, finding herself seated on the round sofa located in front of the large window. She crossed her legs, lightly tapping the crop on an area of the couch next to her, her signal to him.

Abbadon turned to looked at Peyton with her a raised eyebrow. "I would careful with that unless you want me to use it on you." His voice was playful and light, but he wasn't kidding. He took the crop from her hand and lightly swatted Peyton's upper thigh with it-not enough to hurt. Just enough to emphasize his point. Was Abbadon kinky? Yes. It was a control thing. He liked to be in control. He liked to have powers over those. Extending that into his sex life was something he basked in. "Late. You'll be asleep when I leave and return." Abbadon cleared his throat before he spoke. He was a night owl. So were most other demons. They usually met in the wee hours of the night. The sun didn't bother them but it wasn't something they liked either. They much preferred to be able to be with each other in their natural from under the cover of darkness. "You'll be fine here-no one comes here after sunset."

Peyton's lower lip poked out in a faux pout as he removed the whip from her hand. There were several ideas popping into her mind for the two of them that involved one of them in charge of the crop, and she was hoping to have the first say in it. She leaned in toward Abbadon, undoing the first half of the buttons on his shirt before batting her green eyes at him. If they had plenty of time before she had to worry about his meeting, she at least wanted to play a little. "Now, Mr.Solace, can't I be in charge for a little while?" She questioned, running an index finger down his chest lightly. She didn't mind his skills of domination, if anything she was surprisingly drawn to it, but she did indeed enjoy being in charge from time to time. Now, she would gladly let him have his say in things, but she found it amusing to inflict pleasurable pain onto her sexual partners as well. Albiet, less than the lust Abbadon held, but she liked it all the same.

Abbadon smirked at Peyton as she slowly unsnapped the buttons on his shirt. He enjoyed a girl who knew how to take the lead. He even he liked to be able to sit back and not do any work. "I will consider this." Abbadon purred as his hands grabbed at her shirt, pulling on it hard enough to rip it at the seams. He didn't have the patience to fiddle with buttons. The shirt wasn't as flattering as the dress she had worn during their last encounter so he had no intentions of sparring this outfit. His hands began to work at her pants, that didn't take long. He had years of experience in this area and very little patience. All of which lead to him being able to undress women very quickly. "I'll let you have your fun tonight." Abbadon spoke as he caressed Peyton's waist. "Don't expect it every night and don't tempt me too much." He forewarned her as he lead her towards the bed. He knew his limits of self control. He knew he could over take her and hide whatever happened to go wrong in the moment.

Peyton raised an eyebrow slightly as Abbadon's very capable hands ripped the shirt she had been wearing with ease. She was still learning just how far he would take things, and what kinks he found to be most pleasureable. She was, just as their last shindig in his office, the first one undressed by the other's hand. She found her way to the bed with little to no guidance on Abbadon's part, easily finding time to undo his belt and all the other buttons and zippers that were put in place to keep his trousers up. Those, she wanted down, while there were other objects of her affection she craved to be up. Gripping either side of his pants at the waist, she tugged them down, satisfied as the same noise from the prior week came back to haunt her. Snatching the whip from his hands, she once again popped his now bare bottom, ushering him toward the bed. Of course she wouldn't keep it up very long - she enjoyed being the submissive party far too much to keep up the charade, and they were both well aware that he was unable to control his urges for dominance.

"You like that noise." It wasn't a question. It was a statement as Abbadon's belt came off and his pants fell to the floor. Even if it wasn't blatantly obvious by the way she pursed her lips and how her pupils dilated, he could smell arousal in her blood and feel her heating up. Abbadon chuckled at Peyton's swats. Not much phased him at this age. "Get over here." He purred as he laid back on the bed, his arms beckoning for Peyton to join him. Physically-he might submit to her for a while, let her have her fun, but he would always have a smarty, egotistic mouth. "I'm all yours." He reached out to grab Peyton's hands and pulled her on top of him. Not letting go of her arms as he pulled her down to his lips. His lips made their way to her neck, he nibbled and sucked on her skin until a few faint marks were evident. "If you want to keep control. You might have work a little harder and keep me in line. I'm not too good at behaving." He nibbled on her ear as he spoke, then began kissing his way down to her chest.

Peyton's eyes flickered up toward Abbadon's curiously, wondering if she was a dead give away with her body language. Whatever subtle indication she managed to vibe toward him, she would never know. She had never met a man so synchronized with her, sexual manner or not. There had been few men to satisfy her enough that she kept around for more than a few months. This did not seem like the case. Peyton's defenses grew labored as Abbadon continued in his less forward manner to seduce her. Her swats against his thighs, legs, or buttocks all became less pronounced and the aggressive nature toward him also subsided. She was now a slave to his every command. "Fuck it." She muttered, throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking as her mouth found his. Nibbling lightly on his bottom lip, she coaxed Abbadon in a less than subtle manner. "Fuck me." She encouraged, nipping at his neck and chest while her voice dripped with an almost desperate tone.

The little human looked so...fuckable when she tried to be rough. Abbadon couldn't help an amused smile which was quite prominent on his face. "Oh. I will." Abbadon easily picked Peyton's small frame up and tossed her on the bed underneath him, managing to shift the silky silver comforter to the floor. "First you have to beg for it." The sight of Peyton all hot and bothered was a glorious one. She was so desperately wanting more, her body was wriggling impatiently underneath him. The soft light in the room bounces off her curves that had the slightest layer of sweat on them. It was very effective at keeping Abbadon's attention. He pinned Peyton's arms down on the bed and moved his lips against hers roughly. Biting her, forcing her lips to part for him. He rubbed his body against hers and teased her with his member. "You better start about now." Abbadon purred as he let one hand reach down to play with her clit.

Peyton inevitably broke the intense kisses Abbadon had been showering her with as his hand found their way down to her nether regions. He was very precise and well-skilled as his fingers went about various speeds and motions while she lay sqirming with pleasure underneath him. She was definitely hot and heavy for Abbadon, even before he began to tempt and tease her in every way imaginable. This was simply the icing on the cake, and he did seem to indulge in sweets, figureatively speaking. Whimpering quietly, her fingers found themselves caught in his dark locks, giving them a harsh tug to close some of the gap between their bodies. "God.. Please?" Her voice shook uncontrollably next to his ear while she pleaded with him. Her lips began caressing, sucking, and nipping their way from his jawline all the way down to his shoulder. The attempt at angling her hips toward him was a failed one. She was much shorter than him which left her crotch looming around his navel rather than the bull's eye she had targeted prior. She ached for his touch and yet he played cat and mouse with her. It both infuriated her and brought about an air of dissatisfaction. "Please?" She repeated, bringing her legs closer toward her chest as she exposed herself to him, allowing easy access.

"Ooo. I like that view." Abbadon moved away from her kisses to look at her body, he moved his hand back up and placed it against one of her legs, keeping it bent back. "Keep them like this." Abbadon knew what he wanted and he wasn't the least bit shy in asking. "You're getting quite good at begging." A few moments of gentleness showed as Abbadon caressed her cheek, to her collar bone, then her breasts and he leaned down to kiss her cheek. It was nothing more than another thing to tease her with though. "I'm not sure if you're quite good enough yet though." His hands continued to taunt her below the waist, and his lips grazing over her breasts. He smiled at her pleading and wanting. She was just a toy to him though and he'd use her how he saw fit, and he was quite happy with her current state of desperation, not for long though. He slipped his member into her and took no precaution of gentleness as he pinned her wrists back down to the bed grabbing a fistful of her hair as he did. "You wanted it. Take it like a slut." He slurred as he thrust into her hard.

Peyton did as Abbadon pleased, keeping her position as it suited his fancy. She found it easier to go along with whatever kick he was on because when he was satisfied, she usually found herself drowning in a pool of pleasure. The thing that threw her a little off centre was the name calling. Never in her vast array of sexual explorations did she find derogatory terms to be necessary, be it in sexual or nonsexual variants. The rough tug of her hair brought her back to her senses though, and she found herself being engulfed in the strangely hypnotic state she often succombed to during their encounters. She moaned loudly in his ear, bucking uncontrollably underneath him as the mixture of pain and pleasure found itself heightened and nearing her climax. Her fingers dug into his wrists, leaving little crescent shaped indentions and her toes began to curl, unable to fend off her orgasm since Abbadon was in total control and giving her no room to slow her engine.

Abbadon pinned Peyton's hips down as she grew more aggressive beneath him, he came shortly after her and rolled to her side. He traced imaginary lines along her curves with an amused smile on his smug face . The results of sex had come to please him more than the actual act, maybe Peyton hadn't realized that just yet. He wasn't snuggling up to her in bed because he cared about her. He was snuggling up to her because with her blood steeped in arousal, his scent all over her and her heart fluttering underneath her delicate ribcage, he was intoxicated. This was the high after the initial rush of taking a drug. Peyton managed to do something that, to the best of his memory, no one had ever done. Calm him and tame him enough for him relax for a bit and just take in good sensations. He knew he would do whatever it took to keep her next to him, and if she disagreed, well there was not a thing in the world to stop him from doing it by force.

Peyton glanced over at Abbadon, first watching the patterns he traced along her milky white skin. They then found themselves settled upon his face, which adorned a very self-satisfied smile. She brushed the golden locks from her face before speaking. "And why exactly do you look so smug?" Peyton questioned, turning onto her side and propping herself up on an elbow to examine the man who seemed to be borderline seven foot tall. She still found him breathtakingly beautiful, something she refused to speak of again. Even so, the smirk he wore shook her thoughts free of his perfection and instead went into knit-picking mode. How did he seem to know just exactly what she liked? What was beneath his arrogant charm? Was there a gentle soul? Or did he become even more powerful and coated in his sadistic ways? Who exactly was Abbadon Solace? Hopefully some of her questions would find themselves answered as she stayed with him in this lovely home away from home. "And don't call me a slut. Though I enjoy your kinky fuckery, I find it degrading." She muttered.

"Why do I look so smug? It probably has nothing to do with the fact that I just fucked a beautiful woman and did a fine job if I do say so myself" Abbadon chuckled to himself crossing his large arms over his well defined chest. "I don't care what you say you find degrading. Your body suggests, that your mind thinks otherwise. And you saying that you don't enjoy it-well. That's just noise coming out of your mouth." He didn't plan for it to make sense, actually he hoped it would confuse her enough to shut her up for the time being. He didn't take well to mouthy humans. He did what he wanted, when he wanted with little authority to alter that, and ever less so on his home turf. He was an arrogant thing-that was far from a secret, arrogance and self-superiority practically flowed off him. His eyes happily drank in the sight of Peyton's bare skin, light bouncing off her skin in ways no human would pick up on, her golden curls bouncing lightly with every step, she was nothing less than fascinating to look at.

Peyton rolled her eyes at how satisfied in his own performance Abbadon was. He wasn't wrong by any means, and the arrogance was in part what attracted her to him, but there was no need to boost his ego every second of the day. His response toward her irritation about being called a slut during sex raised her bloodpressure slightly as she became exceedingly annoyed. Raising an eyebrow, Peyton climbed from the bed they lay on together, her sights set on the silky robe she had left out for herself. It glided across her skin effortlessly, contrasting it's ebony dye against the ivory skin she bore. "As the words from your mouth could be considered noise. Never the less, I don't like it - don't do it again." She repeated, pulling the belt snugly that lie at her midsection and perching lightly on the sofa's arm nearest the window. The view would at least calm her, since Abbadon's words, for once, pissed her off rather than turned her on.

Abbadon didn't give her a definite answer on whether he would call her a slut again or not. He supposed that depended on his mood and what he wanted in bed at a given moment. If he was looking for submission-then he wouldn't. If he was looking for something a little more feisty-well then he'd cal her whatever he liked. There wasn't much she could do anyway. He'd have his way with her regardless. "Okay Darling." He rose from the bed and pulled on his boxers, brushing past the cream colored sofa's arm as he walked towards Peyton, pressing his lips to her hair. His home was surprisingly light and airy for what you would expect a demon's to be. "I'm going to take a bath. Feel free to join me." He ruffled her hair as he walked towards the large attached bathroom. He pressed against heavy wooden door, not hard enough for it to click close. The bathroom hosted the same plantation grandeur as the rest home. The floors were a speckled granite, and the counter tops matched. The walls were a contrasting bamboo green Small shore themed objects scattered the room, and the room was centered around an exceptionally large, porcelain, clawfoot bathtub.

Peyton couldn't keep from smiling slightly as she felt the pressure of his lips against her hair. Though she was tempermental, she found it nearly impossible to stay entirely mad, or even the slightest bit, with him for too long. She sighed in defeat and followed in the direction Abbadon had taken no more than a minute earlier. Peyton pushed the heavy wooden door open, revealing the beautifully kept bathroom as well as Abbadon playing with the faucet on the clawfoot tub that she simply adored. She dropped the silken robe and lowered herself into the water, Abbadon keeping her company. The water was incredibly too cold for her distaste, and she immediately made adjustments to suit her liking. "Don't tell me you're a pussy when it comes to hot water.." She teased, leaning against his bare chest while her fingers found themselves pinching his thigh lightly. She meant no disrespect by this. Even so, she believed it should be permissible since he had called her a slut during their earlier endeavour.

"Quite contrary." Abbadon purred at Peyton as his hands found their way up to her shoulders and kneaded them as reached for the faucet. "I enjoy heat. I was hoping you would join me and I didn't know what your preference was" He felt right at home in 110+ degree temperatures, he was a demon they handled heat well. That's partially why so many roamed Louisiana. Sure, they could deal with cold weather as well but it was certainly not something they liked. "Your skin is so supple." Abbadon complimented before he leaned forward and playfully bit her shoulder, enjoying the mock action. He wasn't looking to get frisky, but he always had a playful streak that he couldn't shake no matter how sour his mood. "I think you'll like it here. I hope you intend to stay with me for a while." He leaned back against the tub as he spoke, his arms lopping over the sides of the tub. He enjoyed Peyton being around and he enjoyed fucking her even more than that. He could provide her a cushiony life and maybe even go so far as to feign affection. It seemed like a winning combination to him.

Peyton sighed in content, leaning into Abbadon's strong, capable hands while he massaged her shoulders gently. It felt marvellous, and she was a wee bit discouraged as they discontinued their work. "Well don't stop.." She insisted, her voice a slightly whiney tone as she longed for his touch to return. As her massage began again, she couldn't keep a small smile from dancing about her lips. "If you continue with those massages, the lavish lifestyle you allow me to partake in, and the incredible sex, I have no intentions of leaving you in the near future." Peyton answered matter-o-factly. She was able to live without restrictions or limitations, except those of pursuing other men - which, would be a waste no doubt - why on earth would she have the desire to leave Abbadon's company? "How many women have you brought here? What number am I?" She questioned, her tone teasing. She knew he was that of a man whore, but for shits and giggles, she decided to ask. Who was the slut out of the two? It was obvious.