29. Living Sacrifice
Deyva
“O hhh Gooood,” Zach moaned, breathy and uneven.
He was beautiful, trembling and whining, his face pressed to my cheek and weight holding me to the bed beneath him, stealing my breath. Stavros and I stroked his back with every shudder as Stav took Zach in long, gentle strokes.
“Tell me you’re good, Z,” Stavros gasped, his brow furrowing.
Zach answered with a tilt of his ass, meeting Stavros' thrust and then sinking deeper into me with their momentum, the heady pressure landing inside of me and against my clit as I rocked up into Zach.
“So good,” Zach panted, chanting our names until they blended messily together.
Stavros grunted as Zach started riding his cock, fucking me urgently at the same time, his own eagerness breaking our patient pace. I wrapped my legs around them both, my heels just barely managing to reach Stav’s ass, watching Stav nearly buckle over Zach, his fingers digging deep into Zach’s ass.
“Fuck, that’s it Zach, oh fuck! Deyva, babe, come with us,” Stav hissed, eyes meeting mine, smile brilliant.
I nodded, unable to speak, the surge of affection, of love, of relief and joy all piling and pouring into me like rich dark honey and something deep, earthy and satisfying.
Zach yelped, thrashing between us as he came, his face twisted in agonized ecstasy, and Stavros followed quickly, throat strained and stretched as he shouted up at the ceiling.
I turned my face away as their pleasure dragged me under with them, the beautifully tense and twisting sensation rushing through me, bittersweet and strangling at my throat. I didn’t feed.
I didn’t want to take more from them than I already had, and I wasn’t really interested in feeling strong for what came next.
For a moment, as Stavros and Zach collapsed, I was buried under a mass of warm, sweat-dewed male muscle. I let myself imagine just being stuck here like this, pinned beneath them in that endless moment, aftershocks teasing at us all gently.
Then Stavros sighed, retreating from a hissing Zach, and rolling down to my left, Zach on my right, both of them cuddling close.
“Shit,” Zach said, wearing a loose and languid grin. “Deyva, you’re like…”
“Our insatiable little succubus,” Stavros murmured, nuzzling into my shoulder and leaving a wet kiss.
I hummed, glad it was dark, relieved they couldn’t see the tears tracking down my cheeks. I’d made a night of it, dragging their pleasure out over and over in every way I could think of. Not for my hunger. Partly for their enjoyment and because I’d just wanted to have this .
Mostly though…
“Love you, Dey,” Stavros mumbled. “Love you, Zach.”
“Lovyaboth,” Zach answered drowsily before making that sweet little ‘hmm’ as he started to fall asleep.
Mostly I’d fucked their brains out so they’d sleep through my departure.
“I love you,” I whispered, the tears already thickening my voice, but the guys were too wiped out to catch it.
I gave myself a few minutes of this—this peace, the warmth of them surrounding me, Zach’s cock still damp against my hip, his breath puffing warmly against my horn. Stavros' hand was cupped just under my breast, his leg tangled heavily over mine.
When Stavros was snoring and Zach had flopped onto his back, I heard the cry from the hall.
I slid out of the bed and Stavros wiggled unconsciously to the middle, the pair of them used to me drifting away in the night now.
I stood naked in the room, moonlight filtering through mist to brush against my toes on the floor.
Stavros' t-shirt, the one I’d basically claimed, was draped over a chair with my leggings, and I longed to slide it over my head.
But I didn’t want to take any piece of my strong-hearted lover with me back to Hell. I didn’t want to take pure Zach either, or—
The groan called from across the hall, and I slowly pulled the bottom drawer of Stavros’ dresser open, fishing out the dress I’d arrived from Hell in, still torn and ragged. He’d tucked it there for me at my own request, although I’d read the confusion and discomfort on his face at the time.
I shuddered as it slid over my head. The fabric was cool and silky, like a wet tongue laying claim to me again, and I bit back the whimper in my throat, heading for the door.
Azariah had taken over the night shift patrols, less in need of rest than my priests, and Kais had grown used to a full night’s sleep in such a short amount of time now that I was pulling away his terrors.
I padded to his room, found him on his back in his bed.
He was pressed close to the wall, one arm spread across the mattress like he was waiting for me to take my place next to him.
Kais was perhaps my greatest regret. Stavros and Zach had found one another in this, they could take comfort in that when I left, but Kais…
I sat down at his side, watching the lines carving into his face go smooth as I pressed every beautiful drop I’d unwillingly caught from Stavros and Zach into him, enough to ensure he’d make it through the night.
Enough to leave me drained, a little tired and hollow, and not sure if the full body ache I was suffering was a symptom of hunger or the understanding of everything I was giving up.
Everything you’re trying to save, I reminded myself.
Kais sighed and started to shift toward me.
I leaned down, taking a brief whiff of him, skimming my lips over his forehead, and then stood, moving quietly out of the room and leaving him to his rest. He was stronger now, every day a little more at peace.
He would survive me leaving too, although I knew he’d be cursing my name for a while.
It had been selfish to come here. Selfish to turn to these men for safety and not think of the kind of spotlight I’d be shining on them, calling to Hell to come and finally wipe out the defiant good still left in the world.
It was time to go.
Every step out of the priests’ house brought another clawing stab to my chest, but somehow the pain just made it easier to leave. I really did love these men. I really was capable of saving them, saving Azariah. I would make sure of it. I would let Kimaris and King Belial torment me for millenia.
I would turn my soul black in Hell if it meant I could keep those same marks from touching Stavros, Zach, Kais, and Az.
The night was cold, fall heavy this time of year, frost already starting to dress the bushes. I’d stayed later than I meant to, I wanted to be far out of sight of the gate by the time morning came.
I headed for the churchyard gate, rather than moving through town and risking being spotted by Az or the patrollers. There was a moment’s hesitation at the posts. My hand rested on one and Az’s blessing warmed my hand.
That was all I needed. He could really do it. He could keep them safe, and in a weird way I’d grown kind of partial to that angel. He deserved to keep his ass out of Hell. He was worth my place as his sacrifice.
I ducked under one of the blessed crucifixes and marched barefoot away from Bethel.
My toes were icicles, my skin was probably blue with cold, my teeth were chattering. Everyone assumed Hell on Earth was meant to be hot, but actually in Maine, it was still cold as fuck in late October.
I’d made it out of sight of Bethel just as the sky started to brighten, and I was wandering through the remnants of a woods—trees toppled and torn up at their roots, burnt to husks and left to crumble—waiting for Hell to come and find me, when I heard the drums.
I was climbing up a low hill, and the army waited on the other side, a great mass of hellions armed in plastic bags and crude masks, beating their fists on shields made of refuse—one scorched red stop sign pumping in the air.
One of Kimaris' generals, Gamaeron, stood at the center of them, his massive hooves beating down the earth underneath him into a pit.
I was either too late, or right on time.
This army was obviously meant for Bethel and they were preparing for battle.
I searched the crowd for Kimaris and couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed when I didn’t find him. If he were here, it might’ve made it easier to turn the army around. But I couldn’t really be mad at putting off our reunion.
I would just have to talk these fuckers down and hope they were leaning more toward the sin of sloth than the sin of wrath for the day.
I hurried down the hill, not caring that I was starting to catch their attention as I leapt over felled tree trunks and hissed as my feet scratched against the razed ground.
The drumming faltered at my approach, but the war cries raised, yelps and barks and nails-on-a-chalkboard screeches echoing in the air.
I slowed as I grew closer, the cloud of brimstone and sulphur and rot heavy around this crew.
My chin raised high, my gaze yellow in warning as I neared their mass.
“Brethren,” I called, the word bitter on my tongue.
I glared at the masks, wondering exactly what kind of creatures I was dealing with.
Were these the former souls of humans, twisted into weapons against their own kind?
Or were these the beasts that grew in the spite and pain of Hell’s pits until they breathed with a life of their own?
“Sissssster,” one hissed in greeting as they started to back away and part to make room for me.
I stopped in my approach, finding the raised face who’d spoken.
“Your sister is hungry ,” I snarled, and I jumped forward, ripping the mask away.
It was a pain hellion, and I mourned my former diet of sweetness and affection as I pulled the beast to me and drained it, my body protesting with every drop, agony rushing through me like a whip of blades.
The beasts around me howled, some in protest, and others in celebration of my violence. They parted like a corridor leading to Gamaeron, who was crouched in anticipation of my approach.