CHAPTER 24: DEVIL MAY REST

Giggles and moans rippled through the hall, a symphony of pleasure echoing off the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, all bathed in the dim, pervasive glow of hellish crimson light.

At the center of the lavish room, Lucivar lay sprawled across an enormous, arching couch-bed. It was a masterpiece of hedonistic design, a single, continuous curve of impossibly soft, lofted foam that cradled the body in a perfect embrace. He was buried in a tangle of limbs and smooth skin, the sole male form amidst four breathtaking women.

They wore nothing but matching, sheer red G-strings, their bare bodies a tribute to divine femininity. Two possessed magnificent, succulent breasts that stood pert and eager, their nipples hardened points aimed at their master. The other two were curvaceous miracles; true milfs with heavy, soft breasts that swayed with every movement and huge, round asses that seemed to be made of water-soft flesh, wobbling with a hypnotic rhythm.

One of the younger women and one milf were locked in a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues engaged in a wet, sensual dance. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, slick skin sliding against slick skin, their breasts flattened against each other as they lost themselves in the connection.

The other two attended to Lucivar directly. The milf on his right and the younger woman on his left caressed his bare chest and stomach with languid, worshipful strokes. His breathing was a study in controlled calm, a stark contrast to the searing pleasure they stoked in him.

With a gentle yet decisive movement, he slid his hand over the milf’s hip, his fingers skimming the smooth, warm skin of her waist. She let out a soft, giggling moan as he guided her to lean more fully against him. He positioned one of her soft, curved legs over his hip, her heavy breast resting like a perfect weight upon his chest. In one swift, sharp motion, he brought his palm down on her incredible ass.

KPA.

The sound was a sharp crack that echoed in the room, followed by the mesmerizing jiggle of her flesh. He didn’t just hear it; he felt the reverberation through his hand. He immediately grabbed the generous handful, squeezing passionately, his fingers sinking into the impossibly soft give of her. She cried out, a genuine sound of pleasure-pain, and ground her body against him.

The woman on his left immediately leaned in, burying him further in their intoxicating warmth, and captured his mouth in a long, hungry, and deeply soothing kiss. As their tongues met, he reached for her as well, his free hand finding the firm, round curve of her ass. He squeezed them both now, a perfect, soft globe in each hand, kneading the responsive flesh as they moaned in unison against his lips.

His shaft, thick and long, strained against the confines of his shorts, a hard, insistent demand for attention.

The milf on his right, her breath hitching, slid her hand down his stomach, her slender fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. Her fingertips were a whisper away from making contact with his heated, velvet-skinned cock when Lucivar’s voice rang out, cold and clear, cutting through the haze of desire.

"You think you four are ready to meet your maker?"

The effect was instantaneous. All movement ceased. The two women kissing before was now suckling each other’s breasts. The one who had been suckling the milf’s breast released it with a soft, wet pop. All four pairs of eyes turned to him, wide with a mixture of arousal and genuine horror.

Lucivar’s smile was a cold, sharp thing.

"Yeah. I didn’t think so either."

They knew the stories. They knew that trying to take all of him would be less an act of passion and more a sacrifice. A potential death by fucking.

The four shared a look, a silent communication of wetness and want warring with palpable fear.

"Master, we..." the milf who had been suckled began, but her words were drowned out.

"Hello, brother."

The words drowned the woman’s tentative protest and startled all four, who instinctively crawled closer to Lucivar on the velvet crescent.

At the heart of the chamber stood Elivar, materialised out of thin air, his blond hair gleaming, and his golden eyes like twin suns. His silver cloak with its high collar caught the firelight, reflecting it in shards as the flames in the serpent’s mouth twisted higher.

"Brother..." Lucivar sneered, eyes narrowing at his sibling’s smile.

"What are you do..."

"So this is your so-called bloody secret harem, huh?" Elivar cut him off, grin still fixed as he scanned the decadent hall.

Lucivar smirked, a cold unreadable aura curling around him.

"Well, brother, that might be the best nickname you’ve come up with since you were born."

Elivar’s grin faded. His eyes left the chandeliers, the wall sconces and the serpent hearth to fix squarely on Lucivar.

"You’re such an ass. I just didn’t realise you’d become an evil one." His voice turned hard as he dropped into a tall, high-backed chair beside the bed, moving with the arrogance of a man who expected the room to bow to him.

The frustrated tone in Elivar’s voice only made Lucivar chuckle. The women resumed their gentle caresses, emboldened by his composure.

"Hey. Who asked you to sit down?" Lucivar asked, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Seriously?" Elivar snapped, but Lucivar ignored him, drawling instead, "What do I owe this bothersome visit, kid?"

"Kid? Did you just call me kid, brother? For God’s sake I’m your elder brother... an elder god, you mother fucker"

Lucivar chuckled, as did the women, their fingers still playing across his chest.

"Right, right..." His voice stayed calm, threaded with that devilish, infuriating aura.

"But brother, a kid can also mean the offspring of a goat..."

Elivar’s face blazed a furious red. The only thought that filled his mind was a vivid, satisfying image: his blade, materializing in his hand, swinging in a clean, golden arc to sever that hardened, arrogant dick from Lucivar’s body.

He could almost see it; the shock on his brother’s face, the spurt of divine ichor, the finality of it. The fantasy was so potent a grin tugged at his lips despite his rage, though his eyes remained fixed, unseeing, on the serpent fireplace.

"Elivar." His brother’s voice drew him from the violent daydream. "Brother?"

To Lucivar’s surprise his brother spoke with a calmer tone, still staring into the flames.

"Isn’t this the serpent you became when you deceived Adam to eat the forbidden fruit?" Elivar asked at last, pointing at the moulded serpent that its open mouth served as the fire place. He enjoyed needling Lucivar with that comparison.

A cold fury, sharp and immediate, prickled under Lucivar’s skin. He hated that comparison. In this diverse world, he was no fallen angel.

Infact he is not even an angel like Morningstar, he has never been, he is the son of his father; God. And he is the devil.

Well, he kept his face bright, countering lightly,

"Aren’t you supposed to be Jesus Christ the Jew Lord? Oh, you can’t even carry your own cross, much less the world’s."

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Elivar’s shout rippled through the chamber, the flames in the serpent’s mouth flickering as though about to go out.

"Whoa, whoa. Okay, okay," Lucivar replied, laughing with infuriating calmness. To demonstrate just how little his brother’s rage concerned him, he turned to the woman beside him. He took her magnificent, heavy breast in his hand, squeezing until the soft flesh puffed out between his fingers.

Then he lowered his head and drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling deeply.

Mm... mmm...

The woman arched her back with a low, throaty whisper, tangling one hand in his hair to push him deeper onto her breast while her other hand trailed through her own long, obsidian hair.

The raw, carnal sound of her pleasure, the wet sound of his mouth on her skin, it was the final straw.

Elivar’s anger coiled tight, hotter than the hellfire around them.

Hrgh. He groaned, a sound like a hungry dragon, and in a flash of motion, he lunged forward. He yanked the woman away from Lucivar by her hair.

"Arghhhh!"

She screamed, her huge breasts bouncing violently as she struggled against the iron grip in her hair. Chaos erupted. The other three women scattered from the bed with shouts and yells, fleeing to the corners of the room.

Elivar hauled the sobbing woman off the soft arch of the bed, turning her to face Lucivar just as a shining, brutal golden sword materialized in his free hand. He pressed the blazing edge against her throat.

"You think I came here to be insulted?" he said, voice raw and coarse, a total contrast to his usual composure.

Lucivar rose slowly, hands spread in a gesture of placation.

"Alright, I’m sorry. Just let the lady go.... there’s no need for killing today."

Elivar smirked. "You’re in love with this whore, huh? And you’ve been busy pissing me off."

"Man, stop embarrassing yourself and let’s talk," Lucivar said suddenly, his pleading tone vanishing, replaced by cool disdain.

"Don’t tell me you’re too pathetic to attack a lady when the one who angered you is right here."

Those words dragged across Elivar’s pride like broken glass. Not only did they enrage him, they shamed him. He shoved the woman aside; She stumbled and then fled, joining the others. Elivar sank back into the high-backed chair, the sword vanishing from his hand.

"Fine. Let’s talk."