Page 19 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires (Diabolic Romance #3)

Wally

When Bez killed the witches, I tried not to overreact. When Bez destroyed the Diabolic orbs—which could’ve proved pivotal in researching for counter plans to imminent threats—I tried not to overreact. When Bez literally let the one thing standing between Lilith and our dimension slip between his fingers, I didn’t overreact.

I had a history of overreacting, overanalyzing, overthinking, and just over-fucking-whelmingly freaking out about things that didn’t go accordingly!

But this last month, I told myself to take deep breaths every time I wanted to scream. Considering I no longer required breathing and finally stopped following the routines of built-in motor functions, I took a lot of breaths this month.

I rolled over, eyeing Bez as he slept comfortably in our bed, in our home, and in our little oasis because nothing bad had come…yet. I took a breath to exhale the million words of anxiety I wanted to spew.

Chances were Lilith died in her battle with Beelzebub. Or she would die. Or the flame key copy fizzled out to nothingness. Or the copy never would’ve worked because Kell didn’t make it properly. Or a million other factors. None of the possibilities assuaged the morning dread of waking up to a new day. Every time my eyes opened, the clarity of reality sank back in, and anxiety clawed at my thoughts.

How could Bez snooze without a care in the world? He slept there with Weather on top of him, two heads nuzzling close for affection while Stormy secured Bez’s arm as a pillow. Since returning to our world, he’d remained in his own skin, though moments like this, he’d keep his wings tucked inside his body, retracting the essence like a malleable putty to reshape when he awoke and stretched to shake away the night’s sleep.

“You realize that’s the only reason he’s letting you sleep on the bed,” I said to Weather. Sunny cocked his head, inquisitive and cheerful first thing in the morning. “He can’t feel your two-hundred-pound butt and all the clingy head nuzzles.”

It was weird. A positive sign, I guess, for Bez finally feeling comfortable in his own skin, but the disconnect from sensations sort of made everything he said and did this last month hollow. A hollow laughter. Hollow snark. Hollow passion. Just hollow.

“Or maybe I’m being dramatic.”

Sunny yipped in agreement.

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

Stormy growled as if to say I was always dramatic.

“Which I’m not.” I pet Cloudy, the only pup in the house not to betray me for Bez’s favor or consider me dramatic.

I needed to stop worrying about everything. Bez. Our world. My devil essence. Lilith.

I mean, she was just a devil. A world-shattering being. One devil who had contingencies for every possibility, including creating escape routes to worlds she deemed beneath her. Plus, one more devil who couldn’t technically pass through Hell dimensions since I held a piece of his essence. A piece of Beelzebub, which he definitely wanted back. Returned. Refunded. Recounted in his audit of essence. He probably didn’t do audits. I would. If I were a devil. Account for my being. But then again, I wouldn’t feel like I needed to focus on bureaucracy if I were all-powerful. Maybe. Not that I’d know since I wasn’t all-fucking-powerful, and there were currently two omnipotent beings circling our dimension like sharks.

Wrong. Sharks were sweet. Sweeter than folks realized, at least. Most people didn’t understand their habits, their purpose, their—

Dammit.

This was my problem. I got so lost in the details that I often forgot about the… Well, the details.

I couldn’t even look at Bez while he slept. Ignoring the problem. Pretending everything was fine. Perfectly content despite the looming destruction at our doorstep any day.

“Bez, you awake?” I asked, turning away from him, yet finding my tail had nudged him.

I might struggle to look at him when overthinking everything, but I still wanted to see him, talk to him, talk until the stress of the entire world faded away.

“I’m gonna head to work.”

Work didn’t alleviate my stress. It distracted me for pockets of time, a few seconds here when I found myself buried in an intricate artifact, a few minutes there when I got lost in the details of a relic, and then just a return to the gnawing fear of what might maybe possibly happen one day, someday.

It was awful. I didn’t understand how people ignored looming threats and pretended they didn’t exist. Not me. Not possible.

“I’m going to attempt another locator spell,” I said to Tony as I brought out the list of items I’d re-cataloged—which had taken a lot longer than expected given my distractions plus the disorganized mess those witches had left everything in.

“Waste of time,” Kell shouted from her back room, one where she’d kept the door open. A possible side effect of her own anxiety for thieves. However, she didn’t vocalize it while acting as aloof as she normally did. So it was really just an inference on my part.

“I don’t know.” I grabbed a stack of books off the counter. “Tony’s found some pretty useful texts.”

Quite possibly the only person who supported my paranoia. Only Tony wasn’t a person.

He clacked his claws. The familiar bond gave just a fraction of his thoughts, his wavelength of emotion, his empathy, his love.

I shrugged. “Close enough. Besides, being a person is overrated.”

“The flame is made from essence; Diabolics can’t be tracked,” Kell continued. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe.” I carried the stack of books down the hallway. “Maybe not.”

Usually, tracking demons, sensing their powers, was impossible. It proved beneficial when staying off The Collective’s radar. It proved exhausting to locate demon threats on Baron Novus’ villa. It turned out not to matter much here in the Diabolic Oasis where most everyone—conspiring witches aside—focused on a ‘live and let live’ philosophy.

But in Hell, essence worked differently. At least for me. Bez, too, it seemed. There were layers and sensations and a level of intricacy that functioned so much differently than anything I’d experienced. And that was through a filtered lens.

I’d felt and identified essence clearly while in Hell, understanding it in ways I never had before. Maybe if I found a way to tap into my abilities like I had before, then I could track down the flamed key copy, properly dispose of it, and finally put to rest all this fucking stress.

After lots of failed attempts to locate the flame key copy and research that led to more and more dead ends, I decided to take a break. While working out wasn’t my go-to way to alleviate stress, I did find myself constantly wound up.

I made my way to the back of the store where Bez trained in the sparring room. He’d come in today. Not that he told me. Not that he planned on working. Not that we really did much of any work around the shop these days. We all sort of just existed on autopilot, doing stuff and doing nothing simultaneously.

It wasn’t that I missed the constant training, but I missed Bez. I missed us being on the same page about things. His impulsive move had left a vacuum that turned into a huge, unsolvable obstacle. But right now, the biggest obstacle seemed to be conversation.

“Training?”

“I suppose.” Bez used his tails to set up some fitness equipment.

He’d gone back to fully dressed suits even if he hadn’t gone back to a human host. A lumbering demon body that always looked about one good stretch away from tearing apart his entire outfit. But the glimmer of his cufflinks told me the suit would be fine. I’d made those with an incantation meant to stitch his clothing when his wings or tails or even his claws shredded his wardrobe.

“Getting comfortable in your own skin?” I asked, playful and light and a little concerned about the distance between us. It was invisible and silent but looming all the same. “Would’ve expected you to possess someone new when we got back home. Maybe not right away. I know you’re picky. And there was so much happening. But now there’s this lull…”

“No lull,” Bez whispered. “I feel the same dread and concern that’s eating away at you.”

I widened my eyes, really looking at him but not seeing the weight of stress and panic.

“When we returned, I worried there’d be a devil on our heels before we removed that damned flame key copy,” Bez explained. “Then we lost it. I lost it. I foolishly—”

“Bez, it’s not your fault.”

“It is.” He sighed. “And I keep waiting for a devil to swoop into this world and slaughter us all. Lilith on the run, somehow escaping. Beelzebub somehow exploiting the ajar door to Lilith’s Hell. Sure, he’s missing part of his essence. But an open door to Hell is much different than a sealed dimension.”

My heart surged, almost instinctively searching for the rhythmic pace of Bez’s. A fast beat he lacked in his demon body, but his voice registered elevated tension, fear.

“I figured Beelzebub would be especially motivated to finish his battle with Lilith and come track me down for daring to escape. For fleeing a battlefield like a coward. For stealing essence from my betters.”

“Bez…” I stepped closer, hating the distance between us—literal and otherwise, but cautious because he looked a moment away from collapsing into the fear he kept hidden behind layers of snarky jokes and one-liner innuendos and ever-brave bravado.

He hated appearing weak, hated being vulnerable, hated being anything other than a protector.

“Is that why you’re in your demon form? Does it make you stronger?” I asked, letting a small smile creep out. “I know sometimes you complain about the limitations of the mortal coil.”

“I just don’t wanna feel,” he breathed the words like they were suffocating him, choking him on emotions he didn’t very much care for acknowledging. “I don’t deserve to feel the pleasures of the world. I don’t wanna feel the pleasures when I’m in this much pain.”

“Oh, Bez.”

“I know you’re worried they could arrive at any point,” he continued. “Tomorrow, a year from now, a century away. It could be a thousand-year battle between Lilith and Beelzebub. It could take a million trips around the sun for the Earth. It could never happen at all. Perhaps they both killed each other. Maybe a scheming devil with wicked machinations sprang on the duel between former supreme rulers, pounced upon them, and brought an end to their reigns.”

“You think that’s possible?”

“That’s the problem.” He sighed. “Anything’s possible. For all we know, the doors to Hell have been closed off. We could look. I could send my essence out, skulk between the layers of different dimensions, and check.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m afraid to see the answer,” he said with a slight tremble in his voice. “It’s my fault. My impulsivity.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is, Walter.” Bez turned away. “I was afraid of being trapped again inside an orb. Forgotten. Forever.”

“You will never be forgotten.” I kissed the space between his shoulders, soft and gentle. Bez didn’t move, didn’t react. He just stood there, his wings hanging low and somber. I spun him to face me. “Please don’t dwell on what happened. Let’s just focus on the now.”

“There’s no fixing the now.”

“I’ve got ideas. Percolating.”

“Such as?” He cocked his head.

“Not saying because you never listen to my rambles anyway.” I teased.

He kissed me, sloppy and wet and with teeth, obnoxious and playful and somehow so fucking hot. Then he nibbled on my lower lip, the one I wanted to bite now just so I wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t ramble, but he already knew how to shut me up.

“I listen to every annoying word that you utter, you beautifully insufferably addictive man.”

Bez kissed me again. In seconds, we’d gone from playful to frisky to engulfed in a passionate make-out session.

He grinded against me, the heat of his body burning hotter with each kiss. I found myself lost in his touch, the way he ran his clawed hands down my sides, the smack of his lips against mine as he squeezed my ass, the thrust of his hips as he pushed me back.

I expected him to shove me several feet across the room, stopped only by the wall where he’d pin me in place, but my wings stretched, flapped once, and braced our position. A gale of black wind circled us, adding to the chaotic passion of each kiss.

“Pity I have to pause.” Bez pressed his forehead against mine, bracing a bit of distance between our mouths.

“What?” I reached out with my lips, trying to meet his. “It was just getting good.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?” I ran my hands between the fabric of his pants. He’d gone to wearing loose-fitting stretch slacks since his waist had doubled in circumference now that he stayed in his demon form.

“I know, but I wanna feel you.”

“Oh, duh.” I turned so suddenly, my horn hit his with a loud clink. “Sorry about that. The not realizing you can’t feel in this form—not the hitting your horn thing. But sorry about that too. It was an accident.”

“No worries.” He gently kissed me again.

“Mmm. Tease.”

“Plus, I don’t wanna break you.”

“Break me?” I quirked a brow.

“It’s a lot more to handle.” Bez ran his fanged teeth against my neck, making me quiver with anticipation for more. He could break me again and again if he wanted. I’d gladly give myself to him in this form. “So, I need to go find a body. Slip into a mortal condom, so to speak.”

“Ewwww.” I cringed, shaking my head like it’d somehow erase the comment from my brain. “Don’t say it like that.”

“I know, I know.” Bez bucked his hips against mine. “You’re a bareback boy through and through but for the sake of your butt—lemme go slip into someone more comfortable.”

“You really think I can’t handle you?”

“Cocky.” Bez smirked. “And as tempting as it’d be to break you, make you eat those words along with my cock, I wish to feel you whimper beneath as I rail you, so alas, I need to dress up.”

“Shame.” I squeezed his clawed hand, desiring more than anything to feel him inside me and wishing he could feel me this instant. Feel my passion. My lust. My love. My everything. He elicited it all, leaving me hungry and craving him more and more each day.

“Wally.” Bez tilted his head, staring at my tail, which traced an incantation.

What?

My body tensed, anticipating a threat. My essence always reacted when danger arrived. But there was usually a sinking pit in my stomach, a sensation of my Diabolic power heating up and spreading across my entire body with a wave.

That didn’t hit. The only sensation I got was a slight static shock in my hand and a jolt at the sudden explosion of the incantation.

“Fuck.” Bez jerked his hand away from mine. “That stung.”

“It what?”

“Wally, what’d you do?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I wanted you to feel this. Really feel this. And then…”

And then my essence made it happen. I filled in the gaps without sharing my thousand-fold theories because, somehow, my desire to help Bez feel in his demon form worked. My magic and essence combined to conjure some spell, some unknown layer of reality, some wonderful experience for Bez.

Bez grabbed my face, cupping my jaw between his hands, and pulled me into a kiss. A kiss where he tasted me, felt the push and pull of my lips and tongue and body. We’d gone from testing the motions to savoring every sensation in seconds.

“I’m gonna ravish you.” Bez wrapped his wings and tails around me, dragging me to the floormat with a heavy thud.

He kissed me every moment, rolling around together and somehow undressing us just as quickly. He wasn’t kidding about ravishing me. His lips tasted every inch of my skin, peeling off my clothes until I somehow lay face down in tattered threads with Bez’s tongue sliding down my crack and teasing my hole.

I moaned, quivering at how he played and lapped and breathed, each eliciting a deeper arch in my lower back.

“I forgot how good you taste.” He slapped my cheeks and spread them far apart, but when I expected him to trace his tongue on my hole, he grazed his teeth against my ass and bit down.

I whimpered, and he relented, kissing and licking and slapping the cheek again for good measure.

“Fuck.” I trembled.

He went back to burying his tongue in my hole, caressing my skin, shoving my face further into the floor with his tails. And then Bez had gone and flipped me over onto my back again.

I groaned, muttering profanities as the ecstasy of his touch simmered. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because the perfect meals should be evenly cooked.”

I snorted at the absurdity of the comment. “Was that supposed to be sexy? Bez, I mean, funny, sure, but sexy is—”

He swallowed the entirety of my cock, leaving me a flabbergasted, moaning mess.

I lay there, fully enveloped by the warmth of his mouth and the practiced touch of his fingers, which found their way inside me. I moved my arms, not to control Bez’s head—why control the perfect motion? No. I wanted to prop myself up. Sit and bask in the pleasure of Bez sucking me off. But he wrapped a tail around each of my biceps and throat, pulling me down and pinning me in place. When my tail switched defensively, he teased it, taunted, distracted, and left me a blurred mess.

Bez gurgled, his throat making this noise that added to the blowjob, made every nerve on my cock swell.

I tried to bite my knuckle, to hold back my panting moan, but Bez didn’t relent. His tails kept me in place as he played with my cock and brought me closer and closer and closer until I couldn’t help but shout.

“Wait!” My hips thrust instinctively, seeking satisfaction, seeking completion.

I came down Bez’s throat, hips twitching. He didn’t relent, sucking and holding the entirety of my throbbing cock in his mouth.

“Bez,” I whined.

Finally, he released me, letting me pant uncontrollably beneath him as he stood to his feet.

“Oh, Wally, save your breath.” Bez unfastened his slacks. “You’ll be screaming my name soon enough.”