Beta read by Shigiya
Lemon warning!
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-Underworld-
I was surrounded by perverted lunatics.
This was a fact. An axiom as fundamental and unchangeable as the sun rising in the east or Komachi being the best sister in the multiverse. But even within these irrefutable truths, there were tiers, levels of madness that exist. My current predicament wasn't just on a higher tier; it was in a completely different stratosphere, a realm of absurdity I had previously thought only existed in poorly written eroges.
I had to be clear about one thing: having Akeno as a girlfriend has been an adventure in itself. An ongoing, hands-on, and frankly exhausting one on the sheer variety of human experience. It taught me that the line between private intimacy and public performance can be as thin as a bedroom door. This reminded me of that moment where I had to keep a conversation going with a certain poor Valkyrie while simultaneously being... 'appreciated'... by said girlfriend was a feat of mental fortitude that should, at the very least, earn me some kind of commendation. That was a level ten on the weirdness scale.
This? This wasn't even on the same chart. Being pinned to a mattress by a Fallen Angel? Nothing new, this having become a daily part of my life basically, but this particular Fallen Angel being a grade SSS super bitch who was currently attempting to perform a wrestling match against my tongue with hers, all for the benefit of punishing a dying Devil in the corner?
And I didn't know how to handle it.
With some difficulty, given how insistent she was being, I managed to turn my head just enough to break the kiss, a gasp of air escaping my lips. "Ra-Raynare," I began, aiming for a tone of placid reason. A tactic that rarely worked on the vindictive and foul mouth Fallen but it's worth a token of a try. "I get that you want to get back on the guy. Very human of you, despite being far better ways of doing this. But this... It's maybe, just a tiny bit extreme. The literal target audience for this 'torture' is currently bleeding out in the corner like a gutted pig and, I'm pretty sure that this is all just an act. There are better ways. More direct ways. Ways that don't involve me and you fucking like ."
How was that? I pat my back at how smoothly that came out.
My brain, the last bastion of sanity in this entire operation, was filing this under 'S' for 'Stupid ass ideas'. Unfortunately, another part of my body, the one that operates on a less logical level, already started to disobey me and rise up for a wonderful day. That backstabbing horny traitor.
She pulled back, her chest heaving with a breath that smelled faintly of iron from her own torture, most likely, yet there was something faintly sweet. Those striking violet orbs were clouded with a haze that was part lust, part mania that were giving me the danger warning signals. "You know, after being around you for such a long damn time, I learned something about you," she said, her voice a low purr that vibrated through my chest. "You value people who keep their promises. And it just so happens that I made a promise to Diodora that I would fucking torture him in every possible way."
"By having him watch us fuck?" I questioned, my voice flat. "That makes no sense whatsoever. How is this a punishment? Wouldn't this count more as a reward than a punishment? Not to mention that looking at it at a certain angle, it looks more like a punishment ended towards me than him."
A smile spread across her face. "Oh, I don't mind that as well, also, it is a punishment for him," she mused, tracing a finger along my jaw, down the jugular of my neck, and finishing off on my collarbone — her light touch making my entire body shiver that was equal parts wariness and shameful excitment. "I thought about asking Asia to join, given she is an untainted beautiful angel in this fucking perv's eyes. But I figured that you would pussy out on the chance of violating a virgin saint, even if she's a devil."
"Then why the hell," I asked, genuinely trying to follow the convoluted path of her reasoning, "would I agree to this?"
Her smirk became positively feral as her hand, which had been idly exploring my chest, drifted south without hesitation and came to rest directly over my groin, pressing firmly against the undeniable evidence of my body's dissent from my brain's official position. "Because," she whispered, her voice laced with the smug satisfaction and confidence of a person who knew they already won the argument, "while your mouth is spouting shit logic and whiny denials, your body is being brutally honest. I can feel the fucking thing grinding against my cunt, so don't try denying that you don't want this."
She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear, before harshly biting it, hard enough to sting but not enough to break the skin. She let it go, her voice a hot whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "Now, let's give our dying friend a performance he'll take to his grave. Let's fuck until our brains melt. You've been staring at me like a starving man looking at a banquet since Ireland. Don't bother denying it."
"That's a baseless and ridiculous accusation," I retorted, meaning every single one of those words. Well, I had developed several fetishes that my past self didn't necessarily like, given my relationship with both Akeno and Rias… that didn't mean I would like the idea of doing it in front of a dead man and this bitch. "I am pretty sure that back then I was more preoccupied with the thought of whether or not to keep you alive."
"Yeah, yeah. Whaterver you fucking say," she growled, and then her mouth was on mine again.
"Mmm~!"
This kiss was different.
It wasn't the violent invasion from before. It was a deeper and slower exploration that was somehow more intense than the frantic assault. Her body shifted, the leather of her outfit brushing against my own clothes as she began to move. The grinding of her hips against mine was no longer a wild, frantic motion but a steady rhythm, a torturous wave of pressure and friction that made my thoughts scatter like dry leaves in the wind. My hands, finally free, hovered awkwardly for a moment before finding themselves coming to rest on her waist.
She made a soft, pleased sound against my lips, a victory cry followed by a chuckle. Her own hands went to the intricate lacing and straps of her Fallen Angel attire. The black leather loosened, parting to reveal pale, flawless skin, where she took my hand with a firm grip and pressed it flat against the soft weight of her breast.
"Hmmm~!"
The contact was a system shock. Perky, warm, and impossibly soft. I could feel the frantic, fluttering beat of her heart against my palm. She broke the kiss, her forehead resting against mine, her breathing ragged. "See?" she murmured, her voice thick with an irritating amount of arrogance and desire. "Your body knows what it wants."
"..."
I didn't answer.
What was there to say? My usual arsenal of quips and snark felt utterly useless here against someone who wasn't even willing to listen. 'If you can't win against them, join them… if I back away forcefully, it will only make her more brazen against me. We can't have that; giving her an inch is a big mistake.'
Thus, I acted. My thumb moved, stroking the soft skin of her chest in a single motion. Her response was a sharp intake of breath, a full-body shudder that was anything but unpleasant.
Her response was a sharp intake of breath, a full-body shudder that was anything but unpleasant. It was a tactical retreat on my part, a calculated surrender to buy time on how to keep her occupied while hoping to come up with a way to end this before it gets to far. But the more I tried, the more insistent she became, the harder it became to resist. This made me change my plans and go along with a different approach, 'If you can't win, join them.'
Her lips curled into a smirk against my skin as she began a slow trail of kisses down my jawline. Her free hand, the one not currently occupied with my own, moved essentially all across my body, exploring every bit without reservation. It slid down my chest, bypassing the nuisance of my shirt and quickly undoing the button of my pants. The sound of the zipper being lowered was unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
My body tensed by pure instinct. She noticed, of course, and a low, husky chuckle vibrated against my throat. "Relax, fucker," she murmured, her voice a mixture of mockery and genuine amusement. "I'll be gentle." The promise was entirely unconvincing when she bit hard at my neck.
Her hand slipped beneath the fabric of my boxers, her fingers cool against my heated skin. The contact was… as one could describe; electric. No different from a jolt that shot straight up my spine. I bit back a groan, refusing to give her the satisfaction. My hand on her waist tightened, my knuckles probably white, but I didn't push her away. I just lay there, as she then grabbed my hands with her fingers and wrapped them with a firm grip.
'Quite touchy for someone who hates my guts.' Even Akeno wasn't this energetic when it came to touch alone.
She began to stroke my bulge; her movement was more maddening than anything else. Her head lifted, her violet eyes locking with mine as a vicious, triumphant smirk spread across her face. Then, she glanced over her shoulder at the pathetic heap in the corner. Diodora is forced to watch. This entire thing is just getting weirder and weirder by the second for me.
"A loser like you has probably never had a woman treat you like this, have you, fucking Devil?" she called out, her voice dripping with venomous glee, clearly not waiting for an answer. "Then again, I suppose soulless dolls don't have much of a personality to begin with. No wonder you had to resort to kidnapping. Even being an heir wasn't enough to get someone to willingly ride you. Or maybe there's just very little down there for anyone to enjoy it, which is why you are forced to hypnotize and break them… shame that I blew it off. Would've loved to post it on the internet."
The bloody pool growing beneath Diodora served as a grim reminder to every man out there of what this bitch was capable of doing if pissed off enough.
"Let's just forget about him for now."
She turned back to me with a predatory intensity that instantly vaporized any hope of reason. This time there was nothing playful in her approach. Her hand, already latched onto me like a vice, began to move with a purpose, a rhythm that started teasing and quickly grew rougher. The escalation was so sudden that it shocked a low, involuntary groan out of me; my back arched in reflex, trying to both escape the sensation and get more of it at once.
She registered my reaction like a gambler savoring a win, her lips curling into a self-satisfied snarl of pleasure. "Fuck, that's what I like to see," she purred, her breath warm and heavy as it ghosted over my face. Her violet eyes seemed to glow, the pupils blown wide with an insatiable lust that was somehow both human and terribly alien. She was truly in her element, and as much as I hated to admit it, she seemed to have some sort of psychic lock on exactly how to make my body betray me.
Her grip on my length was expert, the kind of manipulation that only came from a deep, obsessive need to dominate. Her hand pumped up and down, knuckles grazing the head with every stroke, forcing electric spasms through my hips. The other hand, which had been pinning me so effectively, was now free to wander, and she wasted no time; she snaked it under my shirt, nails grazing my abdomen hard enough to leave red lines, anchoring herself just above my hip. Every time I tried to look away, she would lean in, forcing eye contact, refusing to let me escape her gaze even for a moment.
She shifted her position, straddling my thighs with a deliberate grind that made the friction between our bodies impossible to ignore. The leather of her loosened outfit rasped against my skin, cool at first but heating up rapidly as our bodies writhed together. I could feel the wetness pooling between her legs; she pressed herself down hard against my thigh, using me as leverage as she increased the speed of her hand.
I tried to maintain some semblance of composure, gritting my teeth, clinging to the last scraps of dignity. Every ounce of my self-control was being torched by the relentless, animalistic pleasure. My mind began to fracture under the combined assault of stimulation and humiliation. A haze of arousal, shame, and rage filled my head, each emotion fueling the others until I couldn't separate them at all.
She leaned in close, her teeth dragging over the lobe of my ear, her words molten against my skin. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" she whispered, each syllable a needle. "You pretend you're above all this, but you're just as much a beast as I am." Her hand twisted, thumb flicking over the sensitive ridge beneath the head, eliciting a strangled moan from deep inside me. The dam was about to break, and she knew it.
As if sensing my imminent defeat, she slowed for a moment, giving me just enough reprieve to breathe, then, without warning, she let go of my wrist and shoved my shirt up, exposing my chest to the cold air and her sharp, biting kisses. She left bruises in her wake, marking me as thoroughly as if she wanted to sign her name in my skin. My hands, suddenly released, hovered uncertainly for a second before she grabbed them and forced them onto her waist, daring me to hold her in return.
She grinned down at me, a wicked goddess, and with one hand still wrapped around my shaft, she pushed my head back against the bed. "Are you watching, Diodora?" she called out, not bothering to turn. It was clear that the act of humiliating both of us — the audience and the performer — was an integral part of her plan. "This is what it looks like when someone actually wants it from me." Her own breathing was ragged, pupils wild, face glistening in the low light.
Her next move was so calculated it almost seemed rehearsed. She dipped her head, caught the tip of my dick between her lips, and let her tongue swirl around it with obscene expertise. The sensation made me buck, hips straining upward as if desperate to escape. But she was too strong, her free hand pressed down on my pelvis, pinning me effortlessly. She pulled away, a shining string of saliva connecting her mouth to my aching flesh, and laughed when she saw my expression.
With both hands, she began again in earnest, jerking me off with a rhythm that was absolutely merciless. She alternated speeds, sometimes slow and deliberate, sometimes so fast it felt like I was being physically unraveled. She watched every minute shift in my face, learning what worked and using it ruthlessly. Her tongue flicked out occasionally, adding a layer of wetness, and soon my entire length was slick with her spit, sliding easily between her pumping fists.
"You going to cum already?" she taunted, her voice thick but triumphant. "Come on. Do it. Show me how much you like this. Give our little cuck a good show." The words were humiliating, but my body didn't listen to my pride anymore; the pressure was building, pleasure mounting to a fever pitch.
She locked one hand around the base of my shaft, squeezing almost to the point of pain, and with the other, she twisted and stroked in a blur. I couldn't hold out. My entire body tensed, toes curling, as the orgasm ripped through me with a violence that made me cry out.
"Argh!"
With a strangled gasp, I came.
Raynare watched, fascinated, as I shot thick streams up onto her hand, her chest, even splashing onto the barely-clinging remnants of her leather outfit.
But she didn't stop. She kept milking me, her hands working until I was twitching and gasping in oversensitivity. When I tried to squirm away, she only gripped me tighter, milking every last drop from me with an almost scientific precision. Her hands were a mess, but she didn't seem to care.
Raynare looked down at the mess on her front, then back at my face, her expression one of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
"See?" she purred, her voice a low, satisfied hum. "I told you your body would be honest."
"Shut… hah… fuck… shut up."
My vision was slowly returning, the white haze receding to reveal the ceiling of the ridiculously opulent room. My body felt like it had been wrung out and left in a dry, slightly tired state.
"My, my~ To think the ice-cold Hachi-kun had so much pent up inside him, nya~!"
I turned my head, a monumental effort. Kuroka was still kneeling beside Diodora, but her attention was no longer on her prisoner. Her golden eyes were fixed on us, or more specifically, on the glistening mess on Raynare's torso. A prominent blush dusted her cheeks, and her cat-like tail was thrashing behind her, a blur of black fur betraying her excitement. "I must admit that was quite the show," she continued, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "I wouldn't mind a taste myself... or maybe even joining in on the fun, nya~!"
Before I could even process the implication of a two-on-one scenario that would surely result in my immediate demise, a pillow flew through the air and smacked Kuroka squarely in the face.
"Oof!"
"Calm down, you damn cat!" Raynare hissed, her voice laced with venom. She hadn't even looked at Kuroka, her eyes still locked on me. "He's mine…. Mine! This is the only chance I get to completely dominate this bastard, and I'm not sharing it with anyone! Now do your fucking job and keep that piece of trash alive, as we agreed!"
Kuroka pulled the pillow from her face, her playful expression replaced by a pout. She hissed back, but she turned her attention back to Diodora. "Fine, fine, nya~. Spoilsport," she muttered, just loud enough for us to hear. "Can't even have a little fun myself when I have to babysit this dying brat."
As if on cue, Diodora, who had been ominously still, stirred. His hands, trembling with effort, began to form a complex magic circle. A desperate, final attempt at escape. Kuroka didn't even move from her kneeling position. She just glanced down at him, raised a single finger, and flicked it. The circle shattered like glass, the magical energy dissipating into nothingness.
"This little brat can't escape," Kuroka said with a sigh, her tone one of utter boredom and frustration, not even bothering to add her verbal tick. "Now stay still before I get annoyed. I'm not in a good mood right now."
My attention was forcibly yanked back to Raynare as she shifted above me. Looking down at the mess on her chest, a look of intense concentration on her face. Then, with a single nothing, she scooped some of my release onto her finger and brought it to her mouth.
Her tongue darted out for a taste.
Her face immediately contorted into a mask of pure disgust. "Blegh!" she spat, wiping her tongue on the back of her hand. "God, that's foul! I've tasted dirt or raw sewage that was better than this. What the hell have you been eating, jackass?"
"I'm not surprised you know the taste of raw sewage," I managed to say, my voice hoarse. "Sorry, my insides do not taste like strawberries and bubble gum. I'll be sure to change that by adding 18 more sugars next time. And how much longer do you plan on continuing this?"
Her disgusted expression melted away, replaced by an eager grin that chilled me to the bone. She leaned down, her face inches from mine, her mouth opening wide. She stuck out her entire tongue, letting a thick string of saliva drip from the tip and land directly on my sensitive, still-hard shaft again. I flinched at the contact.
"Until your balls are empty," she answered, her voice a low, menacing whisper. "Or until you're begging for me to stop like a good little slave."
And then, without another word, she descended.
"What the—ah!"
There was no foreplay like I had grown used to doing with Akeno. No slow, exploratory licking. No gradual build-up of a typical blowjob. She simply opened her mouth and swallowed the whole thing entirely till the base!
Her head bobbed down once, and the entire length of my dick disappeared into her throat. The sudden, wet heat was overwhelming, a shock to my system that made my back arch off the bed. "Gah!" A choked gasp escaped my lips.
She pulled back just as quickly, then slammed down again, her nose pressing against my pelvis. Her throat constricted around me, a tight grip that sent jolts of pleasure so intense they were almost painful through my entire body. She set a brutal, relentless pace, fucking me with her mouth. Each downward motion was accompanied by a loud, lewd gagging sound, making me realize that this person was very experienced and had a complete lack of a gag reflex.
"Mmmph! Gahk! Mmmm!" The sounds were muffled, vibrating along my shaft and driving me insane. She looked up at me, her eyes watering slightly from the exertion, but filled with a triumphant, lustful fire. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying my complete and utter loss of ability to do anything in this situation.
My hands, which had been lying limply at my sides, clenched into fists, gripping the expensive sheets. My hips bucked involuntarily, meeting her downward thrusts. The rational part of my brain was gone, obliterated by the raw, animalistic pleasure. All I could do was lie there and take it, a slave to the sensation as she used my body for her own twisted satisfaction. The pressure in my groin was unbearable, a coiling spring ready to snap.
"H-Hold on!" I choked out, my voice strained. It was a useless warning.
She didn't slow down. If anything, doubled her efforts, that long tongue lashing the underside of my shaft as she plunged down one last time, burying me completely in her throat.
I reached my limit again.
"Aaaargh!" My back arched violently off the bed as I came, hard. A guttural cry was torn from my throat as I pulsed, pouring myself directly down her contracting throat. Wave after wave of intense, shuddering pleasure wracked my body as I emptied myself completely.
But she didn't pull back. She stayed impaled, her throat working, swallowing convulsively around my sensitive head. The sensation was agonizingly intense, her muscles milking me for every last drop as she swallowed it all. Just as I thought I couldn't take any more, she began to slowly, torturously pull back, her lips and tongue creating a seal of suction that felt like she was trying to suck my soul out through my dick. A loud, wet pop echoed in the room as she finally released me, leaving me gasping, twitching, and utterly spent.
"Hah… hah. Are you satisfied? Hold on, wait, you can't be serious!"
Before I could even process the aftershocks, before my vision could fully clear, she was moving. Raynare didn't give me a moment to recover, shifting her position, aligning the entrance to her pussy with the head of my dick, and then slamming down, taking me inside her in one move…
"Ah—!" A loud sound tore from my throat.
The sudden, tight, wet heat was a completely different sensation from her mouth. It was overwhelming, an all-encompassing pressure that stole the breath from my lungs. My body reacted on instinct, my hands shooting up to grab her chest, a desperate attempt to anchor myself, to exert some semblance of control in this chaotic storm. I was still hard, impossibly so, and now I was buried in her to the hilt, her body claiming mine with a possessive heat that left no room for argument.
It was a mistake.
Her hands shot down, faster than I could track, and she grabbed my wrists with an iron grip. Slamming them back down onto the mattress on either side of my head, her strength surprised me. "Nuh-uh," she snarled, her face inches from mine, her violet eyes burning with a manic fire. "You don't get to touch! You just lie there and fucking take it!"
She lowered her head, her lips finding my neck. But she didn't kiss me. She bit me. Her teeth sank into my skin, not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough force to leave a mark, a claim of ownership. "Gah—!" A pained groan mixed with a moan escaped my throat. She did it again, and again, leaving a trail of stinging hickeys down my neck, her own moans growing louder, more desperate. "Fuck... yes... all mine..." she whimpered against my skin. "Not theirs, now, you're mine, and that bitch hybrid and heiress can do nothing about it! Even that Seraph can go fuck herself!"
"Damn," Kuroka's voice cut through the haze from the sidelines. "You two really forgot we're even here, nya~"
I had to agree with her, Nekoshou, Raynare was clearly lost in her own world.
The woman began to move, and calling it 'aggressive' was an understatement. She wasn't just riding me; she was using my body to fuck herself with a ferocity that was terrifying. Her hips slammed down, over and over, at a relentless pace. "Ngh! Hah! Hah! Take it! Take it, you bastard!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pleasure. The entire bed frame groaned in protest, shaking violently with every thrust, the headboard slamming against the wall with a loud, rhythmic bang.
The pleasure was… it was too much, too intense. I could feel another climax building impossibly fast, a third one, coiling deep in my gut. My body was a traitor, arching up to meet her brutal downward thrusts, my own moans now completely beyond my control. "Raynare... s-stop... ah...! You'll break my bones at this rate!" I choked out, but the words were meaningless. She threw her head back, her own moans reaching a fever pitch as she played with her own breasts, squeezing and kneading them.
"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Haaah...!"
Then, it hit. My vision went white as I came inside her, a powerful, pulsing release.
"Ghhh—!" At the same time, her entire body went rigid, her back arching into a perfect, taut bow as she let out a piercing scream. "I'M CUMMING! CUMMING INSIDE MEEEEE!" Her face contorted into an expression of pure, mindless ecstasy. Her jaw went slack, her tongue spilling out over her lower lip, slick and gleaming. Her eyes rolled up into her head until only the whites were visible, fluttering slightly as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Every muscle in her face seemed to go limp at once, a mask of complete, unadulterated bliss that was both terrifying and oddly beautiful in its raw, unfiltered pleasure.
"Phew… I'm… I'm spent…"
For a few seconds, maybe a minute, she just lay there on top of me like a collapsed puppet; her limbs unspooled, her black hair clinging to my sweat-slicked chest and face, her cheek mashed to my shoulder, her rapid, uneven breathing hot against my neck. She shook, every few breaths, with the aftershocks of whatever mania had possessed her. My first impulse was to enjoy the unfamiliar softness, her spent body melting onto mine, the rare feeling of a girl's full weight after all the usual drama, games, and violence.
But as soon as I let my own guard drop, her hips started twitching again.
At first, I thought it was just a nervous after-tremor, her body, like mine, simply unable to process what had just happened. But then the twitching became more deliberate, a writhing, an undulation, and she began to grind herself into me again. It sent a bolt of raw, electric, almost painful pleasure through my oversensitive lower half. I tried to twist away, but her arms… somehow, still strong, still coordinated even in a haze of post-euphoria, locked around my shoulders, pinning me down.
"Wait, you can't—!" I managed, but she cut me off by digging her fingers into my hair and slamming her mouth against mine, roughly, with a desperate, gulping greed that left my lips bruised. It was like she needed to taste me, to devour me, to prove she could. She bit my lower lip, pulled until I winced, then let go with a giggle that sounded more than a little unhinged.
She pulled up, her face flushed and hair wild, and her eyes… Those violet eyes were utterly gone, spiraling, glassy with something that looked a lot like madness. There wasn't a single rational thought left in her. She ground her hips down again, harder, and I realized with mounting terror that my body, betrayer that it was, had already begun to respond. There was no pause, no refractory period, just a relentless, primal cycle of abuse and recovery and abuse again.
This time when I tried to stop her, she let out a snarl: low, guttural, animal. Her hands, nails digging in, raked down my chest and found my wrists, where she pinned them to the sides of my head. "No," she said, her voice a guttural growl. "Don't fucking move. Don't you dare lose focus on me."
For a handful of seconds, I managed to resist, or at least to squirm ineffectually. But she was relentless, unyielding, and the more I tried to escape the more it seemed to fuel her. Every time my body tensed, every time I tried to buck away, she would answer by slamming down onto me that much harder, hissing obscenities or gasping nonsense, punctuating each thrust with a desperate litany of "More. More. Mine. All mine."
My words evaporated into hoarse, helpless moans, the air leaving my lungs in shivery bursts as my nerves overloaded. My wrists were starting to go numb, and my vision swam at the edges. The entire world narrowed to the point of contact, the friction, the wet heat, the unceasing rhythm of flesh on flesh and the heavy counterpoint of her demented, need-driven voice in my ear.
And then, the wings.
They exploded from her back with a whipcrack, nearly knocking the wind out of me. Unlike before, they weren't slick with blood or ragged from battle, they were glossy, radiant, the obsidian surface shining with a feverish energy that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. They snapped out to their full span, then curled down, folding inward until they cocooned us together in a tight, inky bubble.
It was like being locked in a sensory deprivation chamber, except all the sensations were turned up to eleven. The only light was the weird, almost ultraviolet glow from the veins in her wings; the only sound was the wet, awful slap of her body on mine and the panting, groaning, increasingly frantic noises escaping both our throats. The air was humid, sweet with the scent of sweat, sex, and ozone.
For a moment, I couldn't even hear Kuroka or the others outside the bubble. The world was reduced to two people and the absolute certainty that this would never stop, not until one of us broke.
But it wasn't a contest. I was breaking already.
She tangled her hands in my hair and jerked my head back, baring my throat, then bit down with a savage, claiming force. It hurt, but the pain was clean and real and necessary, a punctuation to the chaos. She licked the mark, then sucked at it, while never breaking pace.
I felt the next climax blooming deep inside, but my body's tolerance was shot to hell, any pleasure was instantly too much, a raw nerve being sanded down with every second. I tried to beg her to stop, to let me rest, but my hips kept meeting her pace, drowned out by the next crash of sensation. When it hit, I arched up, rigid as a live wire, and snarled. She screamed with me, her mouth pressed to my ear, her wings convulsing so tightly around us that I thought my ribs might snap.
She rode the aftershocks out for a full minute, trembling, her hands still locked on my wrists. Then, astonishingly, she laughed, then a low, throaty, unhinged sound that vibrated through my skull like feedback. "Again," she whispered. "Again, and again, and again—"
It was at this point that Kuroka's voice finally managed to penetrate the wing-cocoon.
"Hey! Retract those damn wings! I can't see the show from here, nya~!"
Raynare seemed to hesitate, her rhythm faltering. For a second, I thought maybe the spell was broken. But instead she just grinned, eyes wild, and released her grip on my wrists. She ran her hands down my chest, nails drawing thin red lines, then pressed them on my cheeks. With a flex and a shudder, the wings snapped open, flooding the room with light and sound.
I blinked, trying to process the sudden shift. My body was limp, boneless, completely destroyed. My mind was barely functioning. I felt like I'd been in a car crash, then forced to compete in an all-night triathlon.
Raynare, however, looked… recharged. Even after all that, she still radiated the same dark, manic energy, a triumphant, predatory satisfaction that made her seem taller, more regal, more dangerous than before. She climbed off me with a final, rolling shudder, then stood on wobbly legs. Her thighs were slick, her skin marked with the aftermath of our climaxes, but she wore her shame like a medal.
As she stood, gravity did its work: a thick, white mixture of our releases began to ooze out of her, dripping down her thighs and onto the sheets. She seemed to take a perverse pleasure in it, spreading her legs slightly and reaching down to smear it up her own belly, then licking her fingers clean with a look of obscene delight.
"I…hah… my entire body feels weird," I managed to say, voice hoarse and tired.
Raynare ignored me. She turned, a sway in her step, and stalked over to where Kuroka and Diodora watched from the edge of the ruined bed. Her eyes found Kuroka first, a challenge, a dare, a promise. The Nekoshou's own feline eyes narrowed, tails twitching in amusement as she regarded the fallen angel's handiwork. For a moment, it looked like the two might pounce on each other, but instead, Raynare pivoted and set her sights on Diodora.
The devil was half-slumped on the floor, bound and beaten, every trace of his former arrogance ground into the marble underfoot. Raynare stepped up to him and looked down, a slow, condescending smile spreading across her lips. She radiated not just satisfaction, but ownership. For a second, I almost felt sorry for the bastard.
"Did you enjoy the show, you fucking cuck?" she purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.
He had recovered enough to lift his head, his eyes burning with a pure hatred that promised endless suffering… or at least more suffering than his current one, regardless of how unlikely it looked to top it off with something more cruel. Raynare just laughed. "It really is a shame Asia wasn't here to see this," she mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe I should have one of your peerage members join in... no, wait." She waved a dismissive hand. "They'd probably get jealous and cut his dick off mid-fuck. That would be counterproductive."
My blood ran cold. "I'd really rather not lose my genitals for the sake of your revenge," I croaked from the bed, my voice barely a whisper.
Raynare glanced back at me, a wicked glint in her eye. This entire time, having been casually playing with her cum-filled pussy, her fingers lazily swirling in the mess. An idea seemed to strike her. Pulled her hand out, covered in our combined fluids, and strode purposefully back to Diodora. She reared back and slapped him hard across the face with her wet hand, leaving a sticky, shameful mark.
"I have a new idea," she declared, her voice filled with renewed energy. She sauntered out of the room, her hips swaying, leaving us all in stunned silence. A minute later, she returned, wearing a bizarrely out-of-place nun's habit, the black and white fabric a stark contrast to her lewd, disheveled state.
"Where the hell did you get that?" I asked, genuinely bewildered. The person in front of him genuinely looked like an entirely different!
"Diodora keeps some in stock," she said with a shrug, as if that explained everything. "For his… fucked up hobbies. I guess this might have belonged to another one of his fuck toys."
Seeing my chance, I started to move, my limbs protesting with every motion. I reached for my discarded pants, fumbling with the fabric. If this was over, I was getting dressed and getting out.
Bang!
A spear of pure white light, eerily familiar, shot past my face and impaled the mattress right next to my hand. I froze, my heart leaping into my throat.
"What do you think you're doing?" Raynare's voice was dangerously calm.
"I-I'm putting my clothes back on," I stammered, "so we can leave."
A slow, terrifying smirk spread across her face. "And who said that we were done?"
The room went silent. Even Kuroka looked stunned. Before my eyes, Raynare's form began to shimmer and shift. The tall, imposing figure of the fallen angel melted away, her features softening, her body shrinking, her black hair lightening slightly. In a matter of seconds, Amano Yuuma, the sweet and fake mask I hadn't seen for a long while, faced me — standing where Raynare had been moments before.
She knelt at the foot of the bed, her large, innocent eyes looking up at me. Her chest was smaller now, but still ample, and she leaned forward, enveloping my completely limp, exhausted dick in the warm valley of her breasts. The contrast was jarring. Then, she opened her mouth, her voice a high, feminine whisper that was a perfect imitation of the girl I thought I knew.
"It's my turn now," she said, her voice dripping with false innocence. She began to rub her breasts against me, her movements slow and deliberate, a goal-driven effort to revitalize what was left of my battered body. To my absolute horror, I felt a twitch. A betraying, traitorous spark of life.
She noticed immediately. "See?" she whispered, looking up at me from under her bangs. "Are you going to punish this bad little nun for being so naughty?" She gave the now-hardening tip a soft, lingering kiss.
At that moment, looking down at the innocent face of the girl who was, in reality, a relentless sexual bitch, I started to genuinely fear that I might die from sexual exhuastion.
And foolishly ran to my impending doom.
.
.
.
(Lemon end)
{Break}
(Another three hours later)
The walk out of that building was an exercise in humiliation. My legs felt like noodles, my entire body ached with utter exhaustion. I was moving on pure spite and willpower, and even that was running on fumes. Kuroka, bless her twisted little heart, had to practically support me, an arm wrapped around my waist. It was embarrassing, but I kept my face as blank as possible.
A dead fish expression was my specialty, after all.
"I'll make that bitch pay."
"Hehehe, To me it looks like you were also having fun~!"
"...Shut up."
We emerged into the night air to find the others waiting by the swimming pool area, which was now more of a swimming hole amidst the ruins of the base. Sairaorg was leaning against a half-destroyed wall, while Rossweisse and Xenovia were floating peacefully in the water, seemingly asleep. Kalawarna was the first to spot us, her eyes widening slightly as she took in my pathetic state.
"Looks like you're done," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Sairaorg's booming laugh echoed across the destruction. "Hachiman! You may not be able to match me in a fight, but it sounds like you could outlast any devil in bed! That went on for quite a while!"
I wanted to die.
"I don't want to hear it," I grumbled, shrugging off Kuroka's support and trying to stand on my own, which was a mistake. I swayed slightly before Kuroka catched me again. "Let's just go. I'm too exhausted to meet anyone else."
"What happened to Diodora?" Xenovia asked, her eyes opening as she floated on her back.
"He's somehow still alive, thanks to Kuroka," I said, gesturing vaguely back towards the building.
Sairaorg's smile faded slightly. "Why didn't you kill him? After you were done with your... business."
"I'm contemplating it," I said, turning to look back. "But first, I wanted to check something."
Raynare was walking towards us, humming a cheerful, completely incongruous tune. She looked ridiculously energetic, a healthy, rosy glow on her face that looked as if all of the world problems were off her shoulders. And it was frankly infuriating. In her other hand, she was dragging Diodora by his collar, his broken body leaving a smeared, bloody trail on the ground. "Can I play with him a little longer?" she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet.
I was about to tell her no when I noticed a summoning circle glowing nearby. "That's impossible now," I said to her. "Don't play with your prey when the adults are about to arrive."
From the circle, three figures emerged. Ajuka, Sirzechs, Grayfia, and Azazel. Seeing the red-headed devil and the ultimate genius of the Underworld, I let out a low whistle. "Azazel really pulled out the heavy reinforcements for you."
Even having Grayfia along was impressive; I didn't doubt her capabilities.
Sirzechs gave a magnanimous smile. "It seems we arrived a bit late. You managed to take care of the problem yourself, Hachiman. I'm impressed."
"The real hero of the story is Sairaorg," I said, deflecting. "He even used Durandal a bit."
"Eh?" Sirzechs's smile froze. He turned his gaze to the muscular young man, his eyes widening in shock. He then noticed Sairaorg's heavily burnt arm, and the pieces must have clicked into place in that brilliant mind of his. His mouth fell open for a second before he let out a genuine, booming laugh that echoed across the ruined landscape.
"Hahahaha! Hachiman, you never cease to surprise me!" he roared. His expression then turned serious. "Sairaorg, you must return immediately and have that arm treated. A holy element affliction could worsen."
While we were in the middle of speaking with one another. Ajuka drifted over to stand in front of Diodora. His face was a perfect mask; a single hint of emotion betrayed his thoughts. I had to admit to myself, this man had perhaps the most perfect poker face I had ever encountered in either of my lives.
"Diodora," Ajuka's voice was calm. "Why did you do it? Was it worth it?"
Diodora, who had been whimpering on the ground, seemed to find a last reserve of hope. He began to beg, his voice a trembling, broken mess. "Aj-Ajuka! Save… me, please! We're from the same clan, we're family! I had nothing to do with the enemy... I was forced! It was all an act!"
Ajuka turned his gaze from the sniveling wreck to me. "Was I being tested?"
I merely shrugged. "You just showed up earlier than I expected. I was going to have Raynare deliver the final blow, as was promised to her. Have you changed your mind?"
But then, Ajuka shook his head slowly. "Hachiman," he said, his voice still unnervingly calm, "please forgive me for this selfish action."
And right in front of everyone, he placed his hand over Diodora.
The latter's face broke into a hopeful, gleeful smile, thinking he was about to be saved. The air around them shimmered, filled with complex, glowing symbols that moved and shifted like lines of computer code.
"—!?"
A dense, terrifying wave of demonic power filled the area for a split second, but it was enough. Even I, and even Sairaorg, felt a sense of dread, the primal fear of being in the presence of an overpowered monster showing just a glimpse of its true self.
And right before our eyes, Diodora, the smile that he had on,, suddenly dropped, realization that his salvation was never coming. Several parts of his body began to shift. It was like his very form was made of a thousand upon thousands of tiny cubes. His feet, his hands, his skin — several areas on his body compressed themselves into perfect cuboid forms, shrinking and consuming the boy at an astonishing rate.
Before he could even let out a single scream of mercy or pain, his entire being was instantly compressed into a small, dark cube no bigger than a finger, which landed with a soft clink in the center of Ajuka's open palm.
The Devil examined it with the detached curiosity of a scientist looking at a particularly interesting slide under a microscope. "This is the foreign power that was left within his body," he stated, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Its power is quite formidable... enough to ignore my own formulas." He then looked at me with a piercing gaze. "Hachiman, do I have your permission to take this with me for further study?"
The entire group, aside from the three leaders, was frozen in various states of shock. Kalawarna's eyes were wide. Sairaorg was staring with a grim intensity. Calling what Ajuka just did 'cool' would be a gross understatement. It felt less like an act of power and more like an act of sheer, absolute indifference, and in a strange way… I even understood them.
"Sure, I don't mind," I said, my voice flat. I figured Ajuka must have been unable to simply erase Ophis's power and had to resort to... this. I watched as he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, then disappeared in a flash of light, teleporting away as silently as he'd arrived.
Sirzechs kept his usual, cheerful smile plastered on his face. "Please, don't mind him," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "My friend tends to get a bit quiet when he's in an emotional state."
I couldn't help the dry comment that escaped me. "So he's always in a bad mood, then."
Sirzechs let out a loud chuckle. "Something like that." He then sighed, his expression growing more serious. "Even if we Satans have technically separated ourselves from our clans, it doesn't mean we can sever all emotional connections. Even a man as logical and pragmatic as Ajuka has moments where his emotions can take control." He clapped Sairaorg on the shoulder. "Come, we should get you treated immediately." With that, the two of them, along with Azazel, prepared to leave.
As they were about to depart, Grayfia, who had been standing silently and imposingly by Sirzechs's side the entire time, approached me. I stood there, feeling a new wave of exhaustion wash over me. She stopped in front of me, her silver eyes scanning my face, then my body, with an analytical gaze that was somehow more intimidating than Sirzechs's. She leaned in slightly, her head tilting as she took a subtle whiff of my clothes.
My heart stopped. Panic seized me. Did she know? Could she smell Raynare on me? The sweat, the... other things? "What's wrong?" I asked, my voice betraying none of the internal screaming I was doing.
Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and then, to my absolute and complete shock, she pulled me into a warm, surprisingly gentle hug. I froze, my arms hanging limply at my sides, my mind completely blank.
"Onee-chan is proud of how you handled this matter," she whispered into my ear, her voice sincere.
I stood there, stiff as a board, as she released me and stepped back. Coming back to my senses, she really did take this big sister role very seriously.
"Now, let's go back home."
---------
The next 5 chapters of Snafu, and my other Fate fics (Fate Coiling Sword with 3 chapters, A Fake Familiar Reborn with 3 chapters, Steel Eyed Faker soon to be 3 chapters, Taimanin with 3, Hound having 3 and To love a sword having 4 chapters) are already available on my P@treon. With 4 more Broly chapters at /NimtheWriter. Also, I post commissioned arts on each story, already posted a few on an Archer's Promise, Broly and Snafu.