Oh, but Ash still so loved to take her off her guard. What must the others think, to be standing there, seeing them in the aftermath of the executions, only to blink and find them gone?

Netta was only afforded a moment to think about this before Ash's raw, burgeoning desire seared, purified. She gasped, her head lolling back, knocking into the hard surface of the table below her.

Where are we?

They were back in the coffee shop, Netta discovered. More precisely, Ash was hunched over her atop the table where the Witches had been biding their time before they approached Ophelia.

Ash growled, the sound sliding past her spine until it seemed to pool, hungry, in her abdomen. "You had me serving them food and drink, Nettles. I thought we agreed that I wouldn't have to pretend to be subservient." His right hand was sliding, running along a memorized path down to her ankle, finger tips so like the feelers of some large creature.

Netta pulled away, enough to gaze at Ash. His green eyes were mostly covered by his eyelids, drifting halfway closed. He almost looked as though he were relaxed - content, even. But Netta knew better.

The almost sleepy droop on Ash's lips transformed as Netta felt his presence in her mind. His mouth slowly upturned into a sneer that seemed malicious, made even more so by the sight of the sharp teeth that were revealed.

"Can't blame something like me for trying, no?" He leaned down and purposefully breathed on Netta.

Netta shut her eyes, allowed her mouth to fall open, to allow the smell, the humidity, of his enchanted breath to become her air. As the fog of his breath faded, Netta felt as Ash pressed their abdomens together. Doubling down on the lingering, aggressive persuasion.

Netta could not help herself. His pheromones so rarely affected her any longer, leaving her with only an appreciation for the floral, somewhat sickly sweet scent of his breath. She smiled, then rose her hand up to run the harsh, sharp lines along the side of Ash's face.

"Why do you keep trying so much to persuade me, as though I was in further need of it?"

Ash had gripped his bottom lip with his teeth, the indents of the sharp edges like small knife edges. He pulled his teeth away, tenderly grimacing. "I don't know how this sort of thing is supposed to go - between people like us."

People like us. Would Netta ever become used to being what Ash was? Magic - Monster - whatever their kind was called, would she ever be able to wrap her mind around the fact that she had been transformed?

Still, there were certain points that Netta felt comfortable with the thought of being able to anchor herself to.

She rose her hand, ran it down the back of Ash's head, feeling the soft mass of his reddish, dark hair. She felt what joy and pleasure even the simple act of her sliding her hand through his hair brought the man.

Ash closed his eyes as though he were giving himself over to some wonderful, sublime experience. And Netta knew in truth how pleasurable it was for him, for she shared in his emotions.

This was the truth that he had hidden in such plain sight and for so long. How helpless he could be, if only Netta caressed rather than slapped him. He was in many ways, she could see now more than ever, a man who was made for loving, being loved. Had once been cursed by it.

And she had long fought with the concept, the idea that she was likely to have been engineered to love him. In the weeks since their escape from the still-smoking cinders of her old family home, Netta had learned to start thinking of the world in a different manner.

And to appreciate the darker pleasures that had thus far been afforded to her.

Ash had been staring down at her, his gaze betraying his knowledge of every thought that had passed her mind. Once, she had been ashamed of how naked her avarice for him would read in her mind. Now all she felt was pleasure, joy at providing this long humiliated and loathed man with unexpected shock of how much regard she had for him. How the sound of his voice, whispered against her ear or in her mind never failed to sound intimate. No matter what he said to her, it felt like Ash was sharing a forbidden secret, a wicked one.

And that was just what his rough, rasping voice did to Netta.

"I'm very interested in what the rest of me will do to you," Ash said, his voice giving away the muddle that his mind had turned into.

For such an exceedingly ancient being, Netta found Ashwood easily distracted by the most errant of gestures or thoughts about him.

Was he arrogant? Netta had grown to believe that for what he was - and had been - Ash was remarkably, in most situations, down to Earth. Alone together, however, Netta had grown to see Ash's actions as that of someone who had grown to view himself as Prince Charming, with perhaps more than a few perversions.

To that point -

Ash grinned, sharp teeth fully revealed. "Want to see what this ancient man is capable of, you presumptuous young whelp?" He thrust his hips for exaggeration, then bent down to roll his elongated tongue down the side of her face.

Sometimes Ash did these things just to feel the resultant burn and quiver in both Netta's body and to hear the echoes of it in their shared mind.

Ash rolled his tongue down her neck, leaving a trail of still-hot saliva in his wake, chuckling maliciously as he rolled to the collar of her coat. With barely a pause, he began a line across her tender throat, the wet muscle of his tongue running over the quivering, softly spasming sinew of Netta's vocal chords.

In her mind he spoke, sounding almost disaffected with how comfortable he was with speaking to Netta in this manner. Take your clothes off.

He said it as a command. Both knew that if it had been any other circumstance that Netta would have been livid with being compelled to do his will. In a moment like this, both found living the role of King and all-too willing Thrall to be extremely agreeable.

Netta moaned as she felt her clothes willed off of her body. She writhed as she felt the cold air of the room hit her skin, Netta's unintentional movement bringing her skin to skin with a very much also nude Ashwood.

"Ooohhhh."

Netta felt alongside her only slightly fearful pleasure as Ash's pride ran flush with his desire. She could feel the wicked smile in his thoughts like a shadow.

He ran the full, wet length of his elongated tongue up the other side of Netta's face, a slow, rolling movement whose intention was clear to both of them. When he had finished, he had barely pulled his tongue away before Netta had thrust it into her mouth, was greedily pressing, wetly pulsing her lips against his.

His tongue tasted like fire, honeysuckle and pure, rutting desire. Netta's hands had come up of their own will, took shaking hold of his twisting horns, clung.

They pressed and rubbed their naked bodies together, their minds becoming hazed, drugged as their kissing began to lose physicality, some aspect of the material world. At some point, they began to lose form, became ethereal as though their energy was frantic to fuse them together.

It was Ash who pulled away, in the middle of using Netta's willing mouth as a blatant play on what he wanted to do as soon as he possibly could, thrusting his swollen, heavy tongue into her mouth. Gasping as soon as his tongue was back in his mouth, Ash gazed down at his wife as though enraptured.

Love, lust, devotion, and a yawning, non-Human hunger burned in Ash and he was lost in it. And his favorite thing -

His rasping voice had taken on a yet more broken tone than usual and his lips were swollen from kissing, his words thuick, almost clumsy. "I want to feel you cum."

Netta barely had time to prepare before the great King had taken off of her and was positioned with his head between her parted thighs.

Ash shuddered, breathing her in, his face only a glancing kiss away from her swollen, aching pussy. When he had finished smelling her, he let out a slow, shuddering groan. As Netta watched him, transfixed, Ash licked his lips, eagerness narrowing his focus totally to the bounty presented to him on the table.

The thought of his mouth on her, as Ash so often and eagerly pushed for, brought back the memory of their final moments in the house. The place where they had, for a beautiful, horrible moment, been forced to fuse together and had dissolved.

The flames had burned around what Netta and Ashwood had become, what Ashwood had been forced to transform into with the will of Netta flowing through him. No one would have thought it possible - how could it be possible? - but the act of Ash ingesting Netta's physical, Human form had allowed her to infect him.

It had been with her will that they had killed the killed, rended, then felt as the flames devoured them. It had been Ash's second time at being consumed by flames and he was a calm within the fire storm, one that Netta had clung to like a stone in a maelstrom.

In the flames, they parted, with Netta reborn in much the same matter as her husband had so very long ago. After they had found one another in the smoldering remains of the home, Netta had taken her King by one of his horns and found that in spite of his shock, the man had proven to be a very willing mount.

In that hard fuck, Netta had poured anger, sorrow, frustration. Ash roared as she took him, hands gripping her hips - the hips of a Monster - his head thrown back. When Netta had looked down at him in her almost fevered, madness-induced trance, she found her husband's form to have begun to splinter. His skin looked to be a dark, deep gold, every muscle on his once lean body seeming to have become swollen and overlarge, straining, the chords of his throat standing out in stark relief. His horns seemed to have grown a life of their own, merging with the ground, creeping and trailing along like vines.

It had been some time before either had been ready to pull apart. Neither had been sated by even the aggressive, strenuous activity - a trait that they would later find to be a theme in their private time spent together.

Being - whatever they were - Netta discovered that Ash's confession that he was not an easily sated creature seemed to be more of a defining trait for their kind.

It had only been after some time had passed that Netta and Ashwood could pass as Humans. It seemed as though being intimate with one another gave them some control over their physical forms. Without a Witch to anchor to, Netta had surmised, both had difficulty staying in Human form. And after some time spent around others, both found their time spent in beds, on tables, on the ground, in showers, against trees.

After the horror that they had shared, it felt better to both to forget what had happened. It was only in these decadent, dark little moments when Ash expressed a hunger for tasting and filling Netta with his tongue, that she felt a tinge of memory of the barbaric, forced action.

Netta thrust, pressing her overly sensitized, wet pussy to Ash's lips.

Ash's moan was muffled by her wet flesh. He wasted barely a moment before he plunged his tongue in, more eager and tactile in penetration with his elongated muscle than he had a right to.

Netta screamed and writhed, feeling as she often did these days, like some animal in heat. In her mind, she begged and praised her lover, felt his effusive joy and growing, maddening desire in response.

She came, as she often did, shortly as he began to press against the swollen expanse of flesh not far from her clitoris, banging against it as he mercilessly dove his tongue, penetrating deeply enough to continue to beat, slamming.

But, as usual, neither felt complete or assuaged by the release. Ash crept up her body, planting the head of his thick penis against the convulsing inner lips of Netta's pussy.

He almost drove it in with the frenzied energy of a man in the throes of a mania when Netta stopped him, still in the ending bliss of her orgasm.

"Wait. I want you to make me do that again."

Ash's tongue lolled out of his mouth and his gaze seemed fogged with desperate, consuming lust. He finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "Again? Well, whatever you want -"

Netta stopped him, saying, "No, Ash. Make me do it again."

It took Ash a moment, and his penis seemed to take a will of its own as he tried to figure out what Netta was getting at, the length of his growing in girth and rubbing against her in an almost tender, caressing movement, if not for the deliberate manner that it stimulated her hardened, almost painfully full clitoris.

When he understood what she meant, every muscle in his body grew still. His mouth hung open, the look on his face wonderstruck, almost innocent.

Finally, his voice hoarse, Ash said, "You want me to -" He stopped, then looked down at her.

His curving grin was pure evil, scimitar-sharp. He chuckled. "If I do, I'll be having you reciprocate, my dear vassal. And I am not an easy man to please." Only when he felt Netta's flush answer, an agreement, did he will the his penis to begin to rub, to run between the seams of her pussy lips.

She moaned for the release she had been promised, the hazing pleasure of instant gratification. Ash leaned down, his body covering hers like the canopy of a forest.

With a hushed whisper, Ash spoke in her ear. "Cum for me, Nettles." As he spoke, he thrust his penis inside of her, meeting the first spasms of her forced orgasm with penetration. He barely choked out a cry, then roared, "Yes, that's it! Cum for your King!"

Netta felt her own throat failing her, and she sobbed out incoherent cries as her orgasm smashed into her. She rode it, feeling as Ash filled her, fucked her with his wild, joyous, reverent energy.

As her arms fell back, sprawling and in that moment helpless as Ashwood filled and took, she felt her lower arms graze against a heavy, hard mass atop her head.

As her orgasm waned, Netta moaned and raised her hips, trying to meet her husband's frantic rhythm. It was some time later, as Ash was struggling with beginning another chain reaction following his first orgasm, that she felt her arms brush once more against the hard masses above her head.

In a daze, Netta turned her hands and ran down the lengths of the odd, unfamiliar weights in her hands. It did not help her that her mind was focused almost utterly on the sensual, wild energy of the moment, but as she realized what she was touching, she felt realization of what it was that she was feeling strike her.

Sensing her thoughts, Ash came out of his rutting haze, looked down at Netta for a moment before his eyes widened.

For a moment, he stopped bucking, thrusting inside of her. Ash's hands ran up her body, then past her head. He took hold of both hefts of the hard, spiralling masses that grew out of Netta's head.

Her new horns.

Sweating, Ash broke his persona of sex-starved, brutal beast, smiling joyfully at her.

Netta was too astonished for a moment to react, to think. Then her hands rose up to meet his, wrapped as much as she could around both her husband's rough knuckles and the horns.

Netta smiled back at him and forcefully plunged herself back, penetrating herself with his cock.

Thank fuck, for the old King lives.