A/N: I'm writing on WordPad so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes! The italicized words are lyrics from "Jack's Lament" from The Nightmare Before Christmas. This is my first lemon, so I'm sorry if it's not that great.

There are few who deny at what I do I am the best, for my talents are renown far and wide.

I materialize just outside of the looming manor, looking around to make sure that no one saw me. Once that was taken care of, I knock on the door- three polite knocks. This would be surprising to the others that I work with- you see, I've never been the most polite of my kind. You're probably wondering what I am, but that will be revealed later on.

I have been watching the man who lives here for quite some time. A waste of my own precious time, I think, but the Master insists that I do it to make sure he doesn't decide to turn good all of a sudden. I hear soft footsteps and the sound of an opening door from one of the rooms upstairs. They must belong to one of the staff for they are not his footsteps.

The one I heard walking is finally coming down the stairs, one creaking slightly, and making their way to the door. The person is either drowsy, old, or just a slow walker- though I guess all mortals would be slow compared to me. A key is placed in the lock and the door slowly opens to reveal a plain-looking young woman. Faster than any mortal's eyes could detect, I lunge forward and sink my fangs into her neck, closing the door softly in the process.

When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night, I excel without ever even trying.

The thick red liquid oozing from her neck rushes into my mouth, quenching that particular hunger for now. Her once slightly tanned face is now deathly pale and the only marks on her are two small puncture wounds on her neck, not a drop of blood in sight. I make sure to clean up my messes unlike some of my kind. No, don't get too excited, I am not a Vampire.

My kind is a more ancient race—we're most definitely more civilized. Carefully, I lay the body down on the floor. I'll take care of it later; right now, there are more important things to do. Actually, I wonder if there is any brandy in this house, I could go for a drink.

Making my way towards what I assume is the kitchen I pass through a sitting room where the "young" man I've been watching is standing in front of a roaring fire. He stares into the flames, deep in thought. He doesn't notice as I sneak up on him, standing merely a foot away. I could easily snap his neck and leave without a trace, but the Master likes this one-he finds the man interesting, though I can hardly fathom why.

With the slightest, little effort of my ghost-like charms I have seen grown men let out a shriek!

I reach out a pale hand and let a single finger run across his cheek. The man jerks away out of instinct. He can probably sense something isn't right. His dark brown eyes widen when he sees me, filled with confusion and lust.

Not surprising really, the females of my kind were made simply to seduce as the we've found that's an easy way to coerce valuable information from people. They seem to let their tongues slip when around a "delicate" young girl of barely nineteen years. My white-blonde hair reaches just past my breasts. The dress I'm wearing does nothing to help the man to stop the longing he feels building.

"Who are you," he asks cautiously, brown eyes never leaving my dark amethyst ones. "How did you get in here?" I merely smirk, leading the way through the doorway I'd just entered into the front hall. Upon seeing the dead servant girl, he watches me more closely than before.

With a wave of my hand and a well-placed moan, I have swept the very bravest off their feet!

"You know who I am, Dorian Gray," I say in a seductive voice, playing with a piece of my hair. I turn my back on him and start towards the kitchen again, actually making it there this time. "You have seen me before; I should hope you would remember." I jump up onto a counter; opening a bottle of wine and taking a long drank as I let him remember.

His eyes widen as he comes closer to me. I cock my head to the side, biting my lower lip as his stare moves from my face and travels down my body and back up again, resting on my C-cup breasts for a moment before looking again into my eyes.

"You were there the night I killed Basil." It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway, leaning forward a bit to whisper into his ear.

Yet year after year, it's the same routine and I grow so weary of the sound of screams

"Good boy, there was another time as well-if you can remember it you might get a treat." With those last words I begin to rub him through his trousers, a seductive smile on my lips. He lets out a small groan, laying his head on my shoulder and biting the soft skin there. "If you can't remember, I guess I'll just have to stop."

As I begin to move my hand from him, he grasps it quickly and places it back. "You were also there the night I learned of Sibyl's death, though I don't know why no one else saw you there."

"Another of my many talents, Dorian." He looks up at me, a hand moving up my leg and squeezing my thigh. I spread my legs open a little further, leaning forward again, this time to give his a chaste kiss on the lips. Before he has the chance to retaliate, I "disappear", leaving his momentarily confused and startled.

And I Jack, the Pumpkin King, have grown so tired of the same old thing.

I didn't actually disappear, I just ran. My kind can move at a supernatural speed that most cannot comprehend. Yes, even the damn Vampires. I casually lean against the doorframe, waiting on him to turn around. He does so after recovering, giving me a devilish smirk.

"I'm a little disappointed," I say, faking a pout that I know just increases his lust. "I expected something a bit different than that little performance in there." His eyes darken as he advances on me. I'm pinned against the wall- both hands above my head being held by one of his- and he kisses down my throat, biting every now and then.

I push him away, surprising him with my strength. He smirks at me, rising to his feet. "What is your name, young temptress?" I cannot help but laugh at his question, finding the irony amusing.

Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow

I am much older than he could ever imagine, but I will not tell him exactly who I am or why I am here just yet; that would spoil my fun and I'm not ready for this to end just yet. "I have many names, Mister Gray." Now it is his turn to cock his head, looking so innocent while doing so.

"Do you now?" I let out a sultry laugh walking closer to him and wrapping my arms around his neck, beginning to push him backwards into a wall. "Surely you can't have that many, you barely nineteen." I run my fingers through his thick, brown hair, absentmindedly play with a strand of it.

He shivers as I press myself against him, feeling his hardened length begging to be let out of its prison. One of his hands slides from my waist to cup my ass, squeezing slightly. I let out a soft moan, pressing closer to him. Holding tightly to him, I run up the stairs to his bedroom and throw him on the bed; I lean against a bedpost as he takes in his new surroundings.

There's something out there far from my home, a longing that I've never known

He sits up, propped into a sitting position by the pillows and massive headboard. I take off my boots and slowly crawl to him, loving the feel of the satin sheets against my bare legs. A dark smirk never leaves my face as I unbutton his trousers and release his cock. He sighs as I take him into my mouth, sucking him into near completion before I pull away.

A growl escapes his perfect lips, fire burning in his eyes. My smirk turns into a coy smile, though I've never quite been able to pull off the shy look. He grabs a handful of my hair and jerks me under him. "Come now, Mister Gray, can't I have a little fun?"

"You've had your fun, now it's my turn." He picks a dagger up and cuts the stays to my corset, pulling off my short dress. With a smirk that could rival my own, he traces designs on my skin with the dagger, making sure to keep the touch light enough so as not to make me bleed. I moan as his tongue follows the trail the dagger just made, leading him down to my dripping folds.

I'm a master of fright and a demon of light and I'll scare you right out of your pants!

He blows cold air over my hot core, making me shudder and grip a handfull of his hair. Oh, I love this part of my job! Well, this and the actual sex! He licks up my slit slowly, teasingly as I writhe on the bed.

I can feel a familiar warmth as I come closer to my climax. I bite into the pillow to keep from crying out as two fingers replace his tongue inside me, pushing me over the edge. I have to admit, that was one one of the best orgasms of my life, this man is definitely a keeper! He sits up and places his fingers in my mouth, and I suck them clean greatfully.

The dagger falls to the ground, forgotten, as Dorian plunges into me—making my back arch into him, my breasts crushed against his chest. I turn us over so that I'm straddling him. His hands go to my waist as we start a rythem, then slowly move upwards to my heaving breasts. I throw back my head, letting out a loud moan as his thumb presses against my clit.

To a guy in Kentucky I'm Mister Unlucky and I'm known throughout England and France!

I speed up as my pleasure increases, almost to the pont of no return. Unexpectedly, he flips us back over and plunges back into me, hitting me in that one spot—the one the makes you see sparks. A hoarse scream escapes as I fall over the edge in pure ecstacy. He follows soon afterwards, collapsing on the bed next to me.

"Tell me, Temptress, why haven't you approached before," he asks, tracing my lips with one of his fingers. I let out a small laugh, capturing his hand in my own and kissing each of the fingers on it all the while seeing the lust build back up in his obsidion depths. I smirk up at him as he crawls over me, settling between my legs once more.

"The time was not right." He enters me again, groaning as I run my nails down his back hard enough to draw blood. This time it was slow, he wanted to savor it. Waves of pleasure was over me as I once again climax; it isn't until two more orgasms on my part that he finally allows himself to let go.

And since I am dead I can take off my head to recite Shakespearian quotations!

He slowly falls asleep next to me, his ragged breathing slowing and growing deeper. Now it's time to do what the Master has asked of me. I carefully remove the chain from around Dorian's neck and get out of the most comfortable bed. A robe is hanging by the door so I put it on and slip into the hallway, stopping at the foot of the attic stairs—groaning in disbelief.

"I'm getting too old for this," I grumble as I run up the stairs and stop outside of a locked door. This is where the key comes into play, now I don't have to pick the damn lock! I've never been good at that. The door swings open and I put the key into a pocket in the robe.

In the center of the room is what looks to be a covered portrait, exactly what I came to see. I take out the dagger—I had picked it up before I left Dorian's room—and cut the strings that hold the cloth in place. The cloth falls away, showing a horribly distorted painting of an old man, maggots crawling over the torn flesh. Good, it looks as it should.

No animal or man can scream like I can with the fury of my recitations.

A strong arm wraps around my throat and another takes the dagger from me. I smile, eyes never leaving the painting. This was also expected, I know his fits of rage well. I have often seen him lash out at whomever is around at the time he is mad.

"What are you doing in here?" he growls, his grip on my throat tightening. I roll my eyes in exasperation. You'd think after all these years people would think of some better questions.

I pull his arms off me and turn to face him, a calm look on my face. "Your kind has no imagination," I sigh. "I'm in here to check on your delightfully twisted painting, Dorian." His eyebrows knit together in confusion, eyes glinting with suspicion.

But who here would ever understand that the Pumpkin King with the skeleton grin

Slowly, I make my way past him and down the stairs, back to the kitchen. I go at a mortal speed so that he will be able to follow—which he does. "You never told me your name." Ah, he's finally remembered the question that's been haunting him since I arrived.

"That's the million dollar question. As I said before, I have many." He crosses his arms over his chest as I take another long drink of wine. "Alright, I'll tell you a few of them."

"You'll tell me all of them." I raise a single eyebrow, eyes darkening to black. No mortal commands me and he will learn this or perish! I snarl, exposing my razor sharp fangs to him.

Would tire of his crown, if they only understood; he'd give it all up if he only could

"I will tell you what I wish to tell you and you will be happy that I am even wasting my time to talk to you!" Now he finally understands that I can crush if I'd like, that he should learn the boundries. "Some call me Kiara, but most—including my Master—call me the Messenger. I will take my leave of you now."

"Wait!" I stop halfway to the front doors, not turning around to face him. "Who is your master?" This causes a grin to form on my face.

I debate with myself for a few moments, trying to decide if I should tell him or not. The Master never said I shouldn't, though he never said I could either. Finally I turn around to face the man, a large smirk on my pale face.

Oh, there's an empty place empty bones that calls out for something unknown

He looks at me expectantly, slightly afraid to learn the answer. Good, he should always fear the Master. My Master is his Master now and the man will learn to obey or suffer.

Perhaps the Master will reveal himself to the man soon to collect his debt. He's always around, you may not know it, but he is watching. The answer comes to me then—yes, I shall tell the man and give him the warning.

"You want to know who my Master is?" He nods his head. "Truly?" Another nod.

The fame and praise come year after year does nothing for these empty tears.

"The devil," I whisper in his ear," and he will come soon to to collect, so be ready, Dorian Gray." With that I disappear, going back to my Master for my next assignment. Yes, dear readers, I am a type of demon. Remember, like I said to Mister Gray, my Master is always watching….

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