Demon's victim

A shadow comes for her. Long chains cut between his fists and coil the girl tight, yanking the small blonde forward. She stumbles barefoot over stone, wrists already marked. They both know who waits: the oldest one, the one without mercy. When the demon mounts the altar, the weight of him pins her. He drives in deep, hips rolling slow, claiming every slick inch she can give. Her breath breaks. His teeth mark her throat. She offers more, legs locked at the small of his back. The first moment stretches into another and the temple grows hot with blood and heat and their mingled, rough rhythm. There are other bodies drawn close, slick skin meeting, murmurs thickening into gasps, but the center stays him and her, the first claim, the wet pull as he seats himself again and again. Everything left will happen after this opening act is done. The girl never looked away.