Chapter 37 #2
Her skin felt like the underside of a warm blanket, and she smelled like lavender. With her in my embrace, I felt the hum of compulsion. The idea that I should never let her go trickled into my brain.
“I'm not doing that on purpose,” she whimpered.
“How did you know I noticed?”
“I felt your chest tighten. You do that when you notice something concerning.”
“Do I?”
She nodded without lifting her head. “You touch the back of your neck when you're uncomfortable. Your right arm tenses when you're annoyed, probably because that's your sword arm.”
Abby had served me well. Being close to her felt so right. Why had I denied myself so long?
I leaned around the horns and kissed Abby on the top of her head. “Thank you for being so good to me,” I said.
She pulled away slightly to look up at me. This close, her eyes were hypnotizing, like a thousand galaxies swirled in their depths, soaking in the secrets of the universe.
Her gaze darted from my eyes to my lips and back.
I didn't care if this was succubus magic at work. This feeling was better than dreamdust. It was a soothing peacefulness where I felt loved, where I felt that my lust was not just welcome but admired.
I dipped my head and kissed her. Abby's lips were even more magnetic than her skin. Now that they were together, I never wanted them to be apart.
She tasted like decadent indulgence, and she growled with delight when I pressed harder.
A desire struck me. I guided her head to the side so I could kiss down her neck while I ran my fingers up her thighs.
“Master,” she gasped.
I gave her sex the barest of grazes. She groaned and spread her legs.
“You deserve this,” I whispered, taking my kisses down her chest. I lowered myself to the floor as I crossed her abyssal black stomach.
“Master, it should be me who-”
“Quiet,” I commanded. “The only reason to stop me is if you don't want this.”
She looked down, biting her lip nervously.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Abby shook her head slightly.
I wouldn't have expected a liluti to be nervous, especially one who had been openly and vocally depraved for as long as I had known her.
With a hand on each knee, I spread her completely. The motion parted her lips just enough to reveal a hint of wet violet.
I returned to where I had stopped before and finished kissing down her stomach. She jerked when my lips met hers. Again, the barest of touches was enough to send arcs of pleasure shuddering through her.
My tongue flicked out.
“Fuck, Master. It’s better than I imagined.”
My head tipped forward, and I pressed my tongue flat, swirling the flesh over her clit. I stiffened my tongue, parting her, and licked her pleasure directly. She tasted a little salty with a wine-like sweetness beneath.
Every touch filled me with contentment. Every taste bathed me in fulfillment. Here, between Abby's legs, was the safest place in the world.
Soon, a sort of drunken fervor swept me away, and I worked and worked and worked my liluti, my tongue singing praises to her beauty and strength.
Her growl turned into a high-pitched yell, as though she would be even louder but devoted all her strength to holding it back.
Her climax tasted the way a strong hit of moonrock felt, and Abby had to peel me off to get me to stop.
I wiped my mouth and climbed to my feet, my sense of balance swaying as I did. Some distant, primal part of my mind demanded that I leave Abby's apartment, that I get away.
What justification it had, I didn't know, but it grew angrier the longer I lingered.
If it's so important, fine, I'll leave.
“Goodnight,” I said to Abby, leaving her limp on the couch with her legs spread.
I sat in my Sanctuary room with my head in my hands. I knew with complete certainty that a clear mind was critical in times like these, but no matter what I did, the storm of doubt and fear raged on.
The harder I tried to think, the worse it got. Even the focus required for reading was no match for the crashing waves.
The only thing left to do was wallow. Maybe tomorrow I would break out of this fugue and have the key inspiration I needed to succeed in this war. Maybe then I’d feel like I had a chance, like I could actually see the other side of this war with Abaddon.
+4 Progress to Your Fall.
Progress to Your Fall: 81 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
A summoner on the abyssal plane invites you for an audience. You cannot receive or deliver harm for as long as you remain within the summoning circle, and you may return to your home plane at will. These rules cannot be broken or cheated by either party.
Do you accept the invitation?
Yes / No
First, the cherubim and now Abaddon.
Motherfucker. Of course, he would want an audience now. The King of the Abyss wanted to gloat, to see the terror and humiliation on my face when he reminded me that I would not die. No, I would live forever in utter suffering for having dared to oppose his sovereignty.
Was the best decision to ignore him for the sake of my pride, or should I hear him out in the hopes that peace between us was possible?
Abaddon demonstrated that he outclassed me, handily. I would be a fool to pass up the chance to put an end to this.
I accepted the invitation and found myself in a throne room remarkably similar to the first floor of the tower.
I had expected a dark castle with low torchlight, wrought iron, and rough-cut stone.
Instead, I was greeted by white marble pillars and flowerbeds.
The ceiling overhead was glass, and I assumed the darkness beyond was the sky for the abyssal plane.
The stars were few, maybe a dozen, where I was used to nights with thousands upon thousands, and they seemed to be moving away from us, as if this whole world was falling.
Up a set of stairs, the being I presumed to be Abaddon sat upon a white crystal throne with a slight slouch and one foot propped casually on his knee.
The summoning circle was within reach of the bottommost step, so the effect of having to look almost straight up exaggerated his already imposing figure.
He was at least 16 feet tall with a lower jaw and jowls like those of a bulldog, while the rest of his head was that of a black bison.
His torso and arms were humanoid, and his skin had the same void darkness as Abby’s.
His lower half was like the back legs of a wolf, and the claws extending from those paws were as big as my hand.
His wings, folded against his shoulders, had the sheen of black silk.
Two liluti, both taller than Abby, sat at his feet, bound by slave collars, chains, and manacles.
Two other demons hung on either side of the throne, their backs bent by wooden blocks, as if they permanently leaned away.
Something like hot wax dripped on them at unpredictable intervals.
They gasped and whimpered through their ball gags each time a fresh drop splashed on their breasts.
One had skin of metal, and the other had the skin of a lizard.