Page 2 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires (Diabolic Romance #3)

Bez

Once Wally had climaxed, I retracted my wings and pulled out of him, cock throbbing and ready to return to his beautiful hole. He lay on the mat, covered in his own sweat and cum, leaving me utterly ravenous. I flipped him onto his stomach, relishing the whimper from his lips and the splat of his sticky stomach hitting the mat.

“Oh, Bez.” Wally panted heavy exhales into the mat that only further enticed me.

“Now that you’ve had your release, it’s time you offer me mine.” I positioned him on all fours, adjusting the alignment of his hips and ass and arch of his back, so I could slide inside him with ease.

Using my clawed fingers, I spread his cheeks wide, staring at his hole as I buried my cock into it. Gods, I loved the sight of watching my dick vanish inside him all the way to the base where our skin touched, and the most subtle spark of electricity surged between us. Not Diabolic, not even magic. Merely chemical, chemistry, something euphoric in the air every time our bodies did this little dance.

Wally moaned, his back rising momentarily until my sharpened nails encouraged an obedient arch.

It didn’t take long to find a steady, pleasurable rhythm in pounding out Wally, but I found myself eager for more, wanting to relish in his whimper, make him bend to my will, and work a bit harder to satisfy my needs.

I yanked him by his blond curls, jerking his head back. “I’m gonna rail you until you buckle.”

Wally nodded his head, which remained in my grasp. His pleading hazel eyes held this desire to offer approval, to satisfy my every craving. Good. Admittedly, I missed the glasses he no longer required, the pair he ultimately set aside since the essence coursing throughout him enhanced his senses, sharpening them intuitively.

I shoved his face into the mat, and then I gripped him by his hips. Pulling out with only the head of my dick inside him, satisfied by the warm tight embrace, I allowed the nerves of our bodies to tingle from the sensation for a moment before I slammed the entirety of my cock back inside him. My teeth chattered in sync with Wally’s quivering body. I repeated this several times, from tip to base, feeling invigorated each time I thrust deep into Wally’s guts and hearing his moan, his whine, and watching his body bend to better accommodate me.

Oh, how he worked so hard to please me. Still, as I continued pounding away, pouring all my energy into railing Wally into the floor, I found myself returning to the spark of our training. There was a moment, the briefest of seconds, when I found myself eager for him to overtake me the same way I currently held him down. The exertion of his muscles, his magics, and his masculinity all conjured this beautifully intoxicating aroma that left me eager to delight in his needs. Yet here I was, fucking him to meet my own delights.

He was no longer the timid twink incapable of anything except wordy nonsense.

“Bez,” he gasped, enthralled by the thrust of my hips yet still desiring to speak, to explain, to tell some factual anecdote. Utter nonsense, his chaotic craving for conversation.

I leaned closer, tilting his head and holding his strong jaw in my hand. Gods, his hazel eyes had this beautifully delirious look to them as I fucked him, and his lips called out for mine, desperate for the silence I offered.

I kissed Wally, tasting the sweetness of his lips and relishing the pained pleasure he murmured into my mouth.

Surely, I jested about his obscene need to talk, always talk, talk, talk. In truth, I craved his words almost as much as he desired to speak them. His voice offered me solace from the world in every way, an escape from everything else, and one continuous constant from a companion unlike anyone else.

I ran my hands along his torso, continuing to kiss him. Wally had grown quite handsome. His physique had become more muscular, yet still posing his natural slender form. His shoulders were broader, easier to grip and hold while ramming my cock faster and harder into him. The rhythmic panting made his abs tighten, flexing and revealing his perfect physical state. I took swift breaths alongside Wally, syncing our bodies. It meant so much to him to feel unity, like when the essence shared between us stirred sensations from the Diabolic bond.

With Wally holding the devil essence all on his own, we could never perform the bond again with my essence, but I’d never felt more united to him and his will. Every stroke brought me closer to him, every pump of my hips elicited a familiar reaction, every gentle touch across his tender flesh sent a quiver through my spine as I gauged his response. For the last eighteen months, I studied Wally in the same ways I had when perched atop a mantle and bound inside a Diabolic orb, realizing I didn’t require a link to know what brought him joy, didn’t need a bond to understand his sensations, and didn’t lack in the pleasure of feeling his satisfaction with my every action.

I indulged in every delight that crossed my mind, exploring Wally’s body, mind, and heart to the deepest facets, ensuring we would remain forever close. The Diabolic bond meant nothing to me. I didn’t require it to feel like one with Wally. I only needed him nearby, and that completed me.

His desires had grown and subtly shifted over the months, the more we trained and the stronger he became. No. He’d always been strong, powerful even when underestimating himself, but something had blossomed in his heart, in his cock, and I found myself eager to explore the new roles our future might offer.

As my mind wandered to the potential reversal, my chest heated, my breathing hitched, and I pressed my hands down between Wally’s shoulder blades, holding him in place. My muscles spasmed, tightening like a wet cloth being wrung out, and then all the tension in my body fizzled away as I came inside Wally. I took twitchy thrusts, cumming and indulging in the satisfying pleasure of my stiff cock softening inside Wally.

When I pulled out, I smirked at the white droplets that dribbled down Wally’s crack to his sack.

“That was quite fun.” I slapped Wally’s ass—not hard enough to provoke his tail but enough to rouse a response from him.

“Uh-huh,” he said with a wispy breath.

“I think I fucked you unconscious.”

“No,” he panted. “Just gathering my bearings.”

I zipped across the room and retrieved my black suit and tie. Wally continued lying on the floor while I dressed, all his energy spent. A part of me desired to roll around with him for a second round, really unload on him, but I’d never hear the end of it if I fucked him through his shift and he fell behind on whatever random artifacts he had on the agenda for today.

Once I’d buttoned my shirt, I strutted toward Wally and knelt beside him. Since he kept his face pressed to the mat while taking deep breaths, I kissed his cheek. A wet and sloppy peck meant to convey love and lust and maybe a laugh. He remained too exhausted to chuckle, so I took my leave.

I left Wally flat on his stomach, ass up and snoozing with his legs spread and arms outstretched as he gathered his bearings.

“See you at home, my love.” I adjusted my tie and exited the sparring room.

I’d simply wait until he came home to cum again and again, with a second and a third and possibly a fourth round. The idea alone was invigorating, and I intended to indulge to the fullest.

Following the gloomy lighting of the stock room’s hallway, I made my way through the various stacks of knickknack oddities Wally would spend countless hours fawning over.

If he spent half as much time focusing on the devil essence circulating throughout him as he did fixating on these so-called artifacts, then he’d practically be a masterful devil. Well, devil adjacent.

Whatever. I’d already done my job. Deliveries were all dropped off, and my boyfriend was piledrived—and trained in casting—so that meant the rest of the evening was mine.

I lounged in the breakroom, rifling through the fridge to put together a little snack. While I didn’t have everything I wanted, there was enough to make a half-decent sandwich.

Wally’s mysterious little shop generally had a decent amount of foot traffic, which was why I stayed in the back. I didn’t have the patience for customers. I didn’t have the patience for these artifacts and antiquities either. Nope. The only puzzle I enjoyed deciphering was the array of flavors I created in my salted ribeye fried tomato peanut butter sandwich. It had everything. And thanks to the panini press, I could smother all of it together into a warm, crispy bite.

Luminescent green light reflected off Antoninus’ black shell as the tiny scorpion scuttled into the room. He hissed, carrying a dozen different boxes.

“You’re in a mood.” I took a bite of my sandwich.

The boxes shook, potent Diabolic essence gripping their delicate edges and crushing the finely wrapped packages until the creepy crawly bug eased the flow of his telekinesis. Such a bizarre sight. Not the scorpion. He wasn’t bizarre, merely fucking irritating.

No, the strangeness came from their familiar bond. Sure, mage magics allowed them to draw upon the Pentacles of Power and establish links to animals by sharing their mana with the little beasts, but I’d never met a Diabolic who could do such things. The essence demons unleashed often overwhelmed the mortal animals, poisoning them, rotting them from the inside out, yet Wally’s connection remained unfazed. In fact, it seemed stronger. Antoninus didn’t have Diabolic essence coursing through his body, but this somewhat phantom form of Diabolic abilities, like a ghostly connection to Wally.

If I were to be a Walter about the situation, I’d hypothesize that since he’d established the familiar bond before absorbing the devil essence, it allowed him to continue his familiar link. Since I wasn’t Walter, my actual theory was that they were both fucking weird.

“This is why Wally can’t control his essence.” I snatched away the packages Antoninus carried here. “You’re teaching him your sloppy technique, you annoying insect.”

With a click of his claws, he summoned a black gust and knocked my sandwich out of my hand before scurrying out of the room.

“Fucking coward!” I shouted.

I crouched low to retrieve my splattered snack, but that damn bug had ruined it. I sighed with defeat, then looked at the boxes he’d left. I had some deliveries to attend to.

“Which would be easier if some people— bugs —didn’t just scribble the addresses all illegibly!” I gathered the boxes and made my way out of the stockroom. “Guess I’ll just starve now.”

And yes, I didn’t require nutrients, but I wanted them. Needed them to be happy. Antoninus had taken away my happiness.

As I stepped outside, I winced at the harsh burn of the setting sun’s light. Such a shift from fake light indoors to over-emphasized daylight trickling through the dimensional walls of this city. I preferred this pocket realm when Mora first created it with her witchy wife. The blueprints were wonderful, and Wally analyzed the Fae magics, tinkering with the mechanics to streamline things. The realm was truly euphoric. It was eternal nightfall, glimmering rainbow stars and colorful comets and glittery rainfall.

But no, the whiny citizens Mora continued to invite to live here craved sunlight for normalcy or routine or cheer. I hated it, especially this slow-setting sun.

“Just fucking go to bed already, daytime!”

I spread my wings, using the gray feathers to block the fading light until the night finally took hold and the moon’s gentle illumination filled the city below. There was a calm, perfect silence for the flicker of three seconds before the nightlife ignited.

Neon lights to rowdy businesses switched on, cars weaved between each other as their brights flashed, and vast buildings stacked atop each other lit up in the strangest patterns depending on who sat at home.

And just like that, the Diabolic Oasis had come to life, sparkling under the moon’s beautiful light.

Mora’s city didn’t look anything like an oasis. Well, if the snow surrounding the veiled city served as a sandy substitute, I supposed the resemblance wouldn’t be too far off if it weren’t for all the tech and plant life.

I stretched my wings wide, enjoying the cool evening breeze against my dark gray feathers. Even if artificially created. This dimension, while and isolated temporal fold, worked exactly like the mortal realm thanks to the spell craft put in place to make it tick-tock on the same scheduled clock as the mortal world along with the technology meant to keep everything synced with the rest of society.

A society the Diabolic Oasis had intentionally removed itself from. And I certainly didn’t understand Mora’s obsession with time. It was dumb and boring and constraining. Schedules were ugly things that often got in the way of joy. I hated time. The idea of dealing with it forever. I shuddered.

Perhaps I could convince Wally to find a pocket portal dimension where we could simply be, no structure, no linear lines of day through night back to day, no million and one Xs to cross off a calendar of to-dos.

It was something I’d push for in a century or two once Wally had grown bored with his menial tasks as a shopkeeper of exotic antiquities. Speaking of menial tasks, I took a deep breath and unleashed a wave of telekinesis to wrap the packages in my grasp, and then I soared high into the sky and flew through the city.

I weaved between buildings wrapped in giant vines, plants sprouting flowers in every color, and roots that burrowed into concrete to claim a foundation. Despite the stranglehold the wildlife here had, it never slaughtered the city as it should to assert dominance.

Instead, it seemed nature and technology intermingled in this weird form of symbiosis, as Wally called it.

His curious voice buzzed in my mind as I approached my first destination, dropped the package on a porch, punched the door buzzer, and bolted ahead to my next stop.

“You see, the Fae place integration incantations—or their magical equivalent—into the spell work used for pocket dimension creation,” he had rambled. Quite often, in fact, composing a new theory or test every day. “The process behind how they cultivate miniature worlds is the most fascinating form of preservation. The Fae altered malleable life so it wouldn’t encroach but also wouldn’t simply accept being wiped out—say from Mora’s constant construction. There were augmentations placed in every plant and animal to enhance their survival instincts by adapting them to… Well, for lack of better words, become more adaptable. It’s what keeps the things in this pocket world from going extinct. Again.”

Personally, I didn’t think of the plants and animals as symbiotic with the city so much as a plague. A virus of overwhelming strength that’d learned how to become innocuous. Sure, the plants and the birds and bees and the other damned fluffy-tailed beasts seemed harmless now, working around the streets and the lights and tech, but one day I believed they’d devour Mora’s carefully crafted city.

I shuddered with delight. Maybe I was wrong, but I hoped not. With no real challenges or conflicts or combats, my days had turned into paranoid hypotheticals to maintain some semblance of entertainment. How I hoped the bunnies revolted, sitting atop armored flowers and carrying blades made from the bones of their enemies.

I sighed, tossing another package onto a porch, and resigned to accept this daydream as nothing more than a fantasy. Despite the joy the thought brought, it seemed unlikely I’d be so fortunate.

Everyone seemed to coexist so well here. It was exhausting. Not that the Diabolic Oasis didn’t have problems. Mortals and Mythics were inherently awful beings, selfish and simple, but the looming threat of the mage Collective didn’t turn every day into a paranoid battle of glancing over my shoulder.

In fact, most seemed to fall in line with Mora’s authority, her reign, especially since it didn’t interfere with their vices, and no one targeted Wally or me. No one who knew my name, my history, challenged the phony devil who no longer wielded Beelzebub’s stolen essence. No one sought to attack Wally, the only known mortal to possess devil essence. A few Diabolics had challenged me when the Oasis first opened to residents, but now… Now, everyone seemed annoyingly content with leaving us be.

Most waged wars with each other on whether nature, magic, or tech would rule with supremacy in this tiny pocket world, yet even that had an obnoxious balance as innovators sought to ensure the three elements melded into interwoven nonsense. The Mythics loved breathing in the magic that seeped throughout the atmosphere, and the mortals indulged in every technological privilege meant to level the playing field. Seriously, if a spell could accomplish something, then suddenly, someone on Mora’s tech team created a Googly app to do the same thing.

And the witches, who remained the highest in the population here, craved nature above all. Sure, they liked their finery and their modern living, but if they sought to fully harness the Four Corners, then every witch required Nature’s Blessing. Nature wouldn’t offer her blessing, her casting, her touch of primal magic, without a bountiful stage to exude her presence. Hence, why so many goddamn plants had become overgrown vegetables that wrapped around every building of the Diabolic Oasis.

My phone buzzed, catching me off guard as I threw another package. It curved a bit too far, so I took a deep breath and unleashed a subtle current of black wind to knock the package back onto the path I’d intended.

It slammed against the door knocker and landed on their welcome mat with a heavy thud. Delivered. Easy peasy.

I swiped the green camera icon, and Mora’s eyes fluttered and filled the screen of my phone as she adjusted the lens to fully frame her face. She raked her long pink fingernails through her blonde locks and treated this video call like more time in front of her mirror, fawning over her own lustful desire for the mortal flesh she possessed.

“A pleasure as always, Bezzy.” Mora pursed her lips, checking her makeup more than attempting to appear flirty. Her gaze hadn’t even met mine yet as she only had eyes for herself at the moment, examining every feature of her newest host body.

She kept a collection of mortals to possess larger than my wardrobe of suits. I had one for every occasion, much like Mora had a body for every day of the year. Hell, every day of the century, based on the vast collection she kept in storage. This week, she wore a petite blonde with vibrant green eyes, not to be confused with Mora’s actual Diabolic green eyes that matched her demon aura just as my aura radiated red. Despite growing more comfortable living her demon truth here in a city of her making, Mora still didn’t indulge in displaying her Diabolic features, though, keeping her essence coiled beneath her delicate mortal flesh.

All the same, her royal arrogance had flourished when returned to a throne. A throne of her own making in a kingdom smaller than most cities, but thanks to her carefully calculated cunning, she’d already cemented this Diabolic Oasis as a vital silent partner to many outside the dimension.

I tossed the final package into a mailbox. Perhaps a bit too rough as it dented the metal frame. Whatever, their cheap homes didn’t concern me, so long as Wally’s protective wards held up the artifact in the parcels would remain unscathed. “What do you want?”

“Having an issue with our security lines, and I thought who better to handle it than…”

I rolled my eyes. Issues. Meaning she’d undoubtedly invited someone with a ploy into the realm again. Mora indulged too many foes, offering them opportunities I would never. In fact, it was the one benefit of her scheming.

“With the witches already circling, I don’t have time for this drama,” Mora continued.

“Wait.” I smirked. “Have the witches finally risen up against you?”

While, more often than not, the residents of the Diabolic Oasis coexisted well enough, there were times when people acted out and needed to be put in their place. Their place being a grave that I got to put them in. Sanctioned murder wasn’t the same as impulsively ripping out someone’s heart for touching my man, but it quenched the bloodlust.

“The witches are fine.” Mora waved a dismissive hand. “Plotting their coup while I placate them with concessions until I decide what the most lucrative solution will be.”

“Your solution should be bloody.”

“Perhaps.” Mora pouted her lips, posing for her camera as if my presence on the telephone didn’t exist. “They’re under the delusion that since the city lacks Collective authority, there’s a vacuum in power. I believe with a few polite meetings, I can quell this hubris without the need to slaughter them all. However, I’m always prepared for a bit of carnal carnage should the discussions not go accordingly.”

“Well, call me when bloodshed is on the table, not diplomacy or whatever.”

“I’m not calling about witch drama. Though, that is becoming irritatingly high on my list,” Mora said with an edge in her voice. “My concern is for the unknown intruder waltzing into my city.”

While serving as a delivery service for Walter’s silly shop was my main occupation, I also freelanced for Mora, handling issues or threats when they arose. Technically speaking, Mora could handle them herself, but apparently, it was unbecoming for a king to soil her hands with unruly peasants, so she’d declared me an official lord or knight or thug—some absurd title I didn’t ever use or announce when eviscerating enemies.

Plus, I struggled to pay attention when Mora went on about the semantics of monarchs and the roles of her society. At least Walter was cute to look at when he rambled. Mora had this unpleasant scowl as her expression shifted into a sour face whenever I didn’t listen to her. Sort of like right now.

“Bezzy, did you hear a word I said?”

“Yes, all of them, in fact.” I huffed. “Someone’s doing something to cross you. Blah, blah, blah biddy, blah. Kill ‘em for your king. Wait, don’t kill ‘em. Hang on, maybe blah blegh blob.”

“You never listen.”

“Maybe you never shut the fuck up.” I squinted at her telephone face. “Ever think of that?”

“There’s a demon that’s torn through the dimensional barrier.”

“I thought that was impossible.”

The whole point of this tiny pocket dimension was to create a completely self-sufficient world that allowed its residents to weave in and out of the mortal realm as they pleased while creating a precise locking mechanism to thwart intrusion.

“So you want me to kill this demon?”

“I want you to locate them first.” Mora frowned. “I have questions. And concerns. No demon should possess the strength necessary to tear through my dimensional walls.”

“They’re not really your walls,” I said. “It’s not your essence permeating at the edges of the realm. Hell—pun intended—it’s not even held together by Diabolic power anymore. Just a bunch of Fae and witchy magics.”

“Semantics, Bezzy. It’s my realm, and I’d like to know who dared attempt to infiltrate.”

“It’s not really an attempt if they’re already roaming the streets.”

Mora bared her teeth, her pearly smile fizzling away to a frustrated grimace only I could cause. I batted my lashes in response.

“Talk less, kill more.”

I smirked. “Finally, you’re saying something I can agree with.”