He looks at me, clearly wanting some approval. “Cute trick. Too bad I want to see you choke.”
Rosier’s tongue unfurls around the cock slowly. Once his long tongue is back in his mouth he opens wide. I slip the tip in first, then stroke his hair. Rosier wraps his lips around the metal cock again and holds it in his mouth dutifully.
“So patient,” I praise.
There’s a sparkle in Rosier’s eyes. I grab the base of one of his horns, my hand stroking his hair, which trails to his nape. I grab a fist-full of hair and pull on his horn, dragging his face forward and down on the toy till he chokes.
“Such a polite devil deserves a reward.”
A silver bell rings, snapping me out of the mood, my desire to see Rosier vulnerable and whimpering replaced with a new excitement.
“Oh!”
I pull my hips back, and Rosier leans forward with his tongue out, clearly wanting more.
“I’m sorry, uh…”
He looks at me with pleading, puppy-dog eyes.
“Tim must have gotten the component I needed.”
“Minnie,” he whines. He folds his tongue back into his mouth and whimpers. “Can’t it wait?”
I start undoing the straps around my thighs. “Sure, but I want you to see it!”
He leans back, his hands catching him, his hips lifted, displaying his half hard cock. “See what cruddy little stone Tim has gotten for you so you can summon granola bars?”
I glare at him. “So, it’s cute if I starve?” Once the straps are off, I place the toy on the edge of the bed and go grab my clothes.
It may not be customary to dress in the Hells, but I’m uncomfortable with the whole castle staff and our visitors seeing me nude. The outfit still shows off plenty, my top made of sheer white fabric that climbs from my wrist up to my neck and flows like a waterfall down my torso, making me feel like I have wings while I walk. A damned soul tied to a lesser devil of Rosier’s tutelage was a revered seamstress when she lived and stitched sigils I designed along the hem of the coat. My pants, tight as they are, are black and opaque. So, leggings, basically, but it’s not basic when you’re in Hell.
I grab Rosier’s shoulder and try to pull him from the floor. “Come on!” He sits there, making me strain. “How can you be so obedient one moment and absolutely childish the next?” His lips twitch. “Maybe I’ll use that new toy on myself while you’re tied up in litigation with the other Princes of the Hells, how's that?”
He pouts. “Fine.”
As he stands, I take his hand. It’s a funny sight, trying to hold his massive clawed hands in my small palms.
We take the steps to the bottom floor, where it’s easy to hide. I’ve got my own little mortal oasis there: water, food, and books, all of which I’ve been able to summon thanks to the collection of texts in the library. Damned souls can’t cast magic, so I guess writing it down is the next best thing. Plus, it’s such a taboo on the Mortal Plane, finally getting it all out on paper must feel cathartic.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
We enter my little home-away-from-home, the magic circle I’ve been working on mostly prepared. Sitting on a table is a bundle with a note attached. I recognize Tim’s handwriting–Minerva’s Magic Mess.Kas and his trio of succubi help me get whatever I need for casting. I unwrap the parcel to find several sticks and smile to myself.
Rosier looks at the magic circle with furrowed brows, as if he’s trying to figure it out. I take his hand.
“Careful,” I tell him as I step around the chalk outline and the little offerings of unpolished jewels placed inside the circle. “This took a lot of trial and error. A lot of smaller circles to make sure I could summon what I wanted to this plane. If this works, so much could change.”
Standing in the center of the circle, Rosier’s face is scrunched, somewhere between concern and anger. “If you’re about to send me to some other plane–”
“Whywould I do that?” I ask, lifting a brow.
He shrugs. “So you could usurp me and take the throne for yourself. It would make all of this quite the betrayal, a long and arduous scheme. I respect it.”
“You plopped in the middle of the Fae Realm would be funny, but no. This is a summoning circle. You should know that.”
Rosier tilts his head ever so slightly, but the gesture is made more apparent by his horns. “I’m not at all proficient in magics, Minnie–regardless of you, my Mother, and the various texts in our library.”
There’s a little flutter in my chest when he saysourlibrary. I bend down and arrange the sticks the way I want them. “Do you trust me?”
