Chapter Twelve

In Which Orcus's Plans Bear Fruit

"Yes," I whispered.

Immediately, as if he was barely holding himself back from touching me, his shadows were on me. The massage, as seductive as it had been before, took on a decidedly ravenous tone. Shadows and fingers roamed my body, only distinguishable by the faint drag on his claws.

"What do you want from me, Aviana?" he asked. He shook his head. "I mean, tell me if I do anything you don't like."

The shadows on my wrists tightened, drawing them above my head once more and again his movements shifted. His touches were purposeful now, it seemed, pressing and kneading in places designed to draw pleasure from me. They skated down the sides of my neck, toyed with my thighs, and skirted my breasts.

Through it all, he watched me with an intensity I'd never seen before. Or rather, it was an intensity I'd never seen directed at me. My subjects needed to have sex to procreate, so of course I'd seen such a look, but never had I been the object of such desire, and I'd certainly never felt the appeal. But now? It was as if he was reflecting my own feelings back to me, amplifying them.

Our magics thrummed between us, alive with our heightened state, and I was awed to see that his shadows, though still black themselves, emitted the blue-green glow of my own magic. While I'd given him control of my magic, and it still felt out of reach to me, it originated from me.

I'd created millions of beings, and never had I seen my own magic behave the way it did then. Like Orcus himself, my magic steamed out of my skin, wisps of it grasping and reaching for him where my hands could not.

I moaned underneath him, writhing as his shadows moved to caress my lips. I'd seen all of this happen, but it was nothing to feeling it. Desperately, I chased his shadows with my lips, letting out a growl of frustration when they slid out of reach.

Orcus chuckled, as if this were the best game he'd ever played, as if his own desperation weren't written plainly across his face.

"Orcus, please!" I cried, bending my back off the bed as he teased my breast only to retreat before he touched my nipple.

"Do you want something, princess?" he asked.

"Please," I gasped. "Please, kiss me." I must have surprised him, because his mouth dropped open momentarily.

"Of course," he whispered. He lowered himself so that he lay next to me, the length of his body a decadent heat against my own. Vaguely, I was aware that I'd been sweating, my gown was damp with it, but my conscious mind was solely focused on his lips. He licked them with his dark tongue, making them glisten in the low light. I barely had time to ponder their beauty before I was assailed with the feeling of them. Soft, slick, plush, and so, so decadent, I moaned at the feeling of him.

When I opened my mouth? I was done for. Lost to the sensation of his tongue as it slipped against my own. I'd never quite understood kissing before. It had always confused me. It was unnecessary to procreate, though admittedly, my people did mate much more often than they needed to produce young. And many for no purpose at all except their own pleasure, occasionally with the express intent not to produce young. And yet, it had always been a conundrum, a mystery of mortals beyond my ken, and I'd assumed, never to be understood.

Now, I understood.

Kissing Orcus was essential, as integral to my well-being as my own magic, as food or water now were to my mortal body.

There was a playfulness to the way his tongue parried with mine. It echoed our years of battles, and I gasped when he retreated.

"Wha—"

"I needed to see your face," he replied.

I was confused for only a moment, for his hands, with their long, wicked claws, finally slid over my breasts, clasping the fullness of them, kneading as if testing their heft. My back bowed and I gasped in shock. I chased the sensation, pressing into his hands like I could affix them there.

Because I never wanted them to leave.

His hands on my nipples felt like bliss. I was so incredibly sensitive I could hardly comprehend. Moreover, the sensitivity zinged down to my cunt, as if the two were directly linked. My mouth fell open, though I didn't make a sound. I was too shocked. This, this was the perfection of two beings created perfectly for one another, the ultimate joining in a symphony of sin, though there was truly only glory to be found.

Yes, the way he touched me, the way he lowered his lips back to mine to kiss me, was nothing short of worship, the most sacrosanct act ever in this entire solar system. Together, we were pursuing bliss, but simply by virtue of who we were, we also consecrated the very room we occupied.

I squirmed beneath him. His lips on mine, his hands on my nipples, were the sweetest sensation I'd ever known and yet, I wanted more. His shadows teased me all over, but it wasn't enough. It was building something I could not yet quite grasp, but could feel the start of. I chased a tentacle with my hips, trying to get it between my legs, where my pussy tingled to wakefulness with a heated insistence. After centuries of neglect, she was demanding her due, and Orcus, bless him, finally gave it.

With careful gentleness, he slid a lone tentacle along my folds, testing and gathering the slickness there. It hadn't all dripped to dampen my dress, it seemed, because the tentacle slid with so little resistance as to be laughable.