Little Demon in the Details

by Nordika Night

I want to be seen by him because he’s the only person I feel comfortable being around without fully knowing who I am. I’m not wearing a mask. I’m not faking anything. I’m just me—confused, uncertain, not-okay, bratty me.

I wiggle on his dick, just to turn this sexual. I can handle sexual. “Uh-uh,” he says, squeezing my hips to keep me still. “You gotta learn to take the good without getting sex out of it.” “No,” I pout.

How long am I going to be in hiding? How long will I be Blake’s little secret? How long can I handle being invisible again? I don’t even have a home.

“Remember how I said I wanted to make you scream as you clawed your way to the top?” he asks, massaging my scalp. “This is our starting point. Me and you, Mercer. Wherever the fuck you wanna go in life, no matter who you are or who you want to be, it’s me and you.”

“There are no buts to the way I feel about you. Do you understand what I mean?” Tears streak paths down my cheeks and his face blurs in front of mine. I told him once that everyone who claims to love me does it with a but attached to the end.

“Fuck knows how you did it, little demon, but you did.” His lips move against mine, kissing and confessing together. “Did what?” “Made me yours.”

“You snore.” “No. I wouldn’t do that.” “Well, you do.” “No.” “Denial?” “You’re just a liar.” Snoring is unbecoming and I refuse to believe I do it. Snoring isn’t cute. “I’m too cute.”

On his phone, because I no longer have one. I do a bit of snooping, make sure he’s not being shady,

Mercer is me as a girlfriend

Is that me? Do I have long term PTSD? It can’t be me because I don’t have any one significant thing that traumatized me. I don’t even know if I am traumatized or if I’m just… beaten down a bit. A lot.

Starting to think Nordika Night based Mercer on me...

I fear abandonment. I fear neglect. I fear being invisible. I fear being a nobody and then dying. I fear intimacy and honesty because I’m preconditioned to not trust anyone. I have trust issues and behavioural reactions to help me cope with my fears.

@ me

Well, goddammit! I’m a brat because it’s my coping method! Gah! I really wanted that to be my actual personality, and like hell am I letting it go. The brat life is for me, and I’m not giving it up.

I’m in a pissy mood after the two blonds leave, and since Blake is the only one around, he’s the one I’m going to take it out on.

Mercer won’t talk to me, but it’s a little bit funny. While giving me the silent treatment, he’s being the loudest fucking attention whore I’ve ever met.

He's ‘borrowing’ my laptop, which means he’s just snooping through it.

He’s also terrible at the silent treatment because his bratty mouth wants to run, and he’s barely holding himself back from making snippy one-liners that’ll punch me right in my pride.

“Fuck you, Blake! It’s not my fault you treat me like I’m breakable!” He shoves me again, so I use the momentum to take his legs out and push his back to the floor. “Ow! You heavy bitch!” “Not breakable?” I ask, straddling him. “You’re already breaking, little boy.” “Yeah, because this is domestic violence. Not sex.” “Then why’s your dick hard?”

I love them so much. So toxic

He scoffs. Or huffs. Or laughs condescendingly.

“I want you full of me tonight, Mercer.” He licks his lips and holds my head in place. “I want my cum in your ass, in your throat, in your stomach, and on your lips for the rest of the night.”

“I don’t need the aftercare.” He kicks his bedroom door open. “I don’t care. I need it.” Oh. I go completely warm. Gooey. Holy shit, I love him.

“You love that boy, Blake. You love him.” Yeah, I fucking do.

He scoffs at me. Or huffs. Or laughs condescendingly.

I call it a job; he calls it a mission. So naturally, now I also call it a mission because I’m the biggest fucking pushover for this guy. It’s pathetic.

He’s also behind the steering wheel because he conned me into letting him drive in case there was going to be a car chase, which he claims he’d be good at. I have doubts, but I’m still sitting in the passenger seat like a goon. Pushover. Again.

“There are no buts. Not about this, and not about the way I feel for you. No buts, baby.”

I no longer feel safe if Blake isn’t around. That asshole became my safe place. He’s my wall, the lock on my door, the only person who sees me and loves me because of it.

Aaron laughs. Blake laughs. Brandt laughs. My fucking family.

<3

I’ve never been attached to anything before; not a place, a person, or a home. Mercer is all those things to me.

“Fuck me like there are no buts, Blake.” Fuck me like you love me.

“I love you, okay? With no buts. Fuck knows how that happened, since you were my jailor and all,” he scoffs. His hand leaves my mouth. “You saw me.” He swallows audibly. “And loved me anyway.” Vulnerability and insecurity flash in his eyes, but when he blinks, it’s gone. “I love you, Blake. Sorry?”

“If you don’t say it back within the next five seconds, I will have a full-blown meltdown.”

“I love you, Mercer.” “But?” “No buts.” He struggles not to get weepy, but in the end, he lets out a dramatic whine, covers his face, and doesn’t complain when I uncover it. “I fucking love you.” I kiss him. “Love me harder,” he demands. Any-fucking-time.

“Blake’s in love,” Aaron chimes in, getting the attention off himself. “Old news,” Brandt says. Bronson laughs. “He’s been in love since he saw that devil outside the strip club in black lacy lingerie.”

Why don’t you smoke these anymore?” Because I don’t want to smell like cigarettes when I kiss you. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before, but it’s on my mind now. Maybe also because he’s a better stress reliever than those things.

“What do you want?” “A pumpkin spice latte.” “It’s spring.” “A pumpkin spice latte.” “It’s spring. They don’t have that. Pick something else.” “Well, I don’t want Starbucks then,” he sasses, taking another drag. “I want a milkshake now.”

Mercer is everything to me

He scoffs. No wait. He laughs condescendingly. For sure this time.

I don’t even want to be a Palmerston anymore.” I can think of a way to change his last name, but I keep that thought to myself for now.

<333

Dee rips open his door. “Blake,” she greets me. “Asshole,” she greets Mercer.

He scoffs. She scoffs back. Condescending laughter follows from both of them.

Ben is still missing.” “He won’t be for long.” I grin at Will. The paleness of his face is worth everything. Shock registers, and fear quickly follows it.

“Are you my fucking mom?” I huff, letting her work her magic. “Ever had one of those?” she retorts.

Their friendship is everything

Will you fucking live here with me, you satanic little demon?”

“Move in here with me?” “What temperature do you like the thermostat at?”

Asking the important questions

“You gonna give me something to drink, little demon?” I mouth his length and come back up again to suck the head. “If you earn it. This is self-serve. You gotta tap your own keg.”

“I want more.” He kisses me. “Fuck me again. Fuck my throat. Fuck anything. Just give me more cum, Blake.”

I tuck him into my chest, his face buried in my neck. “I hate cuddling,” he whispers. “I know.” I smile at his lie.

“So, how are you coping?” “Meditation and internal thought assessment.” She tilts her head at me. “Sex and fancy nail polish.”

She sits beside me, not caring that I’m two seconds away from biting her.

“Thank you.” For seeing me and loving me anyway. For not ignoring me. For looking beneath my masks and understanding why I wear them.

Blake just gives him the finger and says, “Aaron is mine.” I pull back to glare at him. I thought it might be jealousy that eats me up, not wanting Blake to claim anyone but me, but it’s not. It’s jealousy because Aaron is mine.

Aaron is actually mine

I might have called him 127 times since he’s been gone, but he called me at least 42 times, so I call it even.

Goals