Chapter 3 #4
“That’s for doubting that your princess could beat you in a duel,” she murmured, shifting her hips just enough to let a gasp of cool air hit his lips before smothering him again.
Then, she leaned forward and freed him from his trousers. Her hands, slick from her spit, reached down his body. They wrapped around his thick cock, one at the base, one just under the crown. Her touch was firm, knowing.
She began to milk him.
A slow, tight pull from root to tip. Her thumb swirled over the slit, spreading the copious pre-cum, making the glide smooth and filthy.
She did it again.
And again.
A relentless, gentle rhythm.
Meanwhile, the sigils pulsed. The restraint around his neck loosened, just enough. He could move his head.
He didn’t wait for permission.
His tongue surged forward, licking a broad, hungry stripe through her soaked pussy. He found her clit and circled it, firm and slow.
Seraphae gasped.
A real, sharp sound that broke her act.
Her hands stuttered on his cock.
“Mmmph, not fair—”
He didn’t let up.
He tongued her.
Deep.
Then back to her swollen bud.
She was leaking onto his lips, his chin, a continuous, sweet rain.
Her hips began to grind against his face in tiny, desperate circles.
A soft moan tore from her lips.
Her hands resumed their work on his cock, trying to focus.
She leaned down further, her exposed breasts brushing against his stomach.
Then she swallowed his cock with a soft, wet pop.
Tasting him.
Eyes closed.
Sensation overwhelming.
Then she did the thing that always pushed him over the edge.
She took him deep.
All the way.
Her lips met her own hand at the base of his shaft. She held him there, in the tight, constricting heat of her throat.
And she hummed.
The sound was a deep, resonant vibration that consumed his entire world. It was the final, unbearable stimulus.
His tongue plunged into her pussy as deep as it could go.
His hips strained against the magic, a low, guttural roar muffled by her body.
He came.
Hard.
The release erupted from him in violent, pulsing waves.
She drank. Her throat working around him, milking him with soft, swallowing contractions. The sensation was heavenly and unbearable at the same time, a peak of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
She didn’t pull off.
She kept him deep, taking every last drop, her hum never ceasing.
Finally, with a wet, sloppy sound, she released him.
She sat up, licking her lips, a trail of white connecting her mouth to his spent cock for a fleeting second.
She swallowed.
Aftershocks still trembled through Aldric’s body. His tongue lay still against her, his breath heaving in ragged gasps against her wet, sensitive flesh.
Seraphae giggled, the sound bright and cooing.
“Oh my…” She shifted her hips, grinding herself gently against his slack mouth. “Is this what I need to do to make you this hard? To make you pre-cum that much?”
He could only hum in response, the vibration making her shiver.
She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes were closed, his face glistening with her essence. He was utterly wrecked. Beautifully used.
She turned around and leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper, hot and intimate against his lips.
“I want to cum too.”
She braced her hands on his stomach and lowered herself on his face again, this time looking into his eyes.
“Stick your tongue out, my knight.”
He did.
She rode his face with a hungry, focused rhythm. Her clit against the firm ridge of his upper lip, his nose. She fucked herself on his tongue, setting a pace that was desperate and perfect.
“Play with them.”
Sigils came off of his hands.
In a heartbeat his hands were kneading the soft flesh of her breasts, pinching and rolling the stiff peaks of her nipples.
Massaging.
Appreciating.
Her moans filled the chamber, high and breathless.
“Yes… right there… just like that, don’t stop…”
Her wings fluttered wildly. Her tail lashed the air.
His tongue was relentless, a perfect, knowing instrument of her delight.
She was close.
He could feel it.
“I’m… I’m gonna…”
Her climax hit her suddenly.
Her body convulsed, her thighs clamping around his head, her back arching violently. A fresh flood of wetness soaked his face as she trembled and shook.
He held her in place.
His tongue filling her up through the shuddering waves.
Relentless.
Finally, slowly, bonelessly, she collapsed to the side. She panted into the sheets, her heart hammering. The magical restraints faded, the sigils dimming to a soft glow. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they both floated in the hazy, spent aftermath.
His hand stroked her damp back. His other came up to her hair, tangling gently in the white strands.
After a long moment, she lifted her head. Her golden eyes were soft, sated. She smiled, a genuine, tender curl of her lips.
She kissed his chest.
“You know,” she murmured, her finger tracing idle circles on his stomach. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won the duel.”
A chuckle escaped his lips, the sound rough but warm.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
She smiled without opening her eyes.
“Obviously.”
? ? ?
The days passed quietly.
Aldric fell into a rhythm that felt almost monk-like in its discipline.
He rose early, before the palace truly stirred, and made his way to the library while the corridors were still cool and empty.
Hours passed among shelves and desks until the morning bell called him away for breakfast. Then it was back again, another stretch of searching, reading, cross-referencing until the midday meal interrupted him.
After that, the library once more, right up until dinner.
Between those hours there were moments of obligation.
Brief conversations in hallways. Polite nods to Seraphae’s family members.
A handful of shared meals with Seraphae, quiet and unremarkable in their routine warmth.
She noticed his withdrawal, of course she did, but she didn’t press him.
She simply stayed, present, as if trusting that he would surface when ready.
Today was no different.
The palace library was a cavern of quiet, a sanctuary of dust and old parchment. Tall, arched windows let in slants of afternoon light, illuminating motes that drifted lazily through the still air.
He had been at it for hours.
The brand on his shoulder was a constant reminder, a low ache beneath his skin. The markings refused to remain still. When he focused on them, they shifted, subtle and almost mocking in their changes of angle and form. He could never tell when a sigil altered, or how. Only that it had.
As if the brand resented being observed.
Or worse—understood.
Over the past few days, he had pulled every tome on infernal brands, ancient texts, and soul-mark symbology the library possessed. Some rituals contradicted one another outright. Others spoke only in riddles. The rest were terrifyingly absolute.
How does a human complete an infernal brand?
The answers were… excessive.
Eternal vows.
Blood trials.
Soul rituals.
Valor trials.
Surrendering identity.
Abandoning one’s former life entirely.
Aldric exhaled slowly as he closed the book.
Its yellowed, brittle pages whispered beneath his fingers, the edges slightly charred.
It was a lot.
He rubbed a hand through his hair and shook his head.
The section he was in, a narrow alcove tucked behind a stone column, hemmed in by towering shelves, was always deserted at this hour. Quiet. Isolated. Perfect for concentration.
Today, it wasn’t.
He rounded the column—
And stopped short.
Perched on a high wooden stool at a reading desk was a vision.
Her white hair, bright and softer than moonlight, were twisted into a loose, elegant knot, careless in a way that was anything but. A few strands had escaped, curling at the nape of her neck. Thick, dark-rimmed glasses rested on her nose, absurdly scholarly.
She wore a white silk blouse, the top buttons undone just enough to hint at temptation rather than offer it, the fabric pulling faintly across her chest when she breathed.
A black leather miniskirt hugged her hips, riding dangerously high on her thighs as she sat.
One long leg was crossed over the other, ending in a sharp, high-heeled pump that dangled lazily from her toes.
She was bent over a massive folio, spine arched, back curved just enough to be devastating.
A slow, involuntary breath slipped from his lips.
His body reacted instantly, heat pooling low in his gut before he could stop it.
She must have heard him. She didn’t look up. She turned a page slowly, deliberately, the soft whisper of parchment loud in the silence.
Then her voice, low and amused.
“Well, well, well,” she purred. “Look who’s spying on his girl.”
A soft chuckle escaped him despite himself.
“Rae,” he said, aiming for stern and missing by a mile. “This is serious. I’m trying to learn more about the brand.”
She finally glanced up, peering at him over the rim of her glasses. Golden eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I know,” she said lightly. “I’m doing my own studying.”
He raised a brow.
“You? Studying what, exactly?”
A heartbeat.
Then she giggled. Bright, unrepentant, utterly caught.
The folio closed with a gentle thump as she swiveled on the stool to face him, leaning back. The motion pulled the blouse taut, the skirt hiking another perilous inch.
“Alright. You got me. I just wanted to be near you. I thought I could help you a bit.” A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. “By the way,” she added, tilting her head, “thoughts on the outfit?”
He stepped closer, gaze dragging unashamedly from heels to glasses.
“It’s quite distracting.”
She lowered the glasses just enough to peer over the frames, eyes wide and playful.
“Is it now?”
A mock pout.
Then, in the space of a breath, her expression shifted.
Hungry.
Intent.
“If that’s distracting,” she purred, “I’d love to know what you’ll think of this…”
She winked and shifted, bracing herself on her elbows against the reading bench, deliberately spreading her legs.
No panties.