"WOULD YOU HELP ME with this?"
Israfel sat on Aya's bed as she stood in front of her cool blue vanity. He had been watching her quietly dress; it brought him some inner male pride to stare at his personal slave and know that all the lush curves he saw belonged to him, and only he. Fuck if he cared about the psychology of it. At her soft call, he rose off her bed and stepped behind her in front of the ornate looking-glass.
Picking the necklace she held out back to him, he whispered over her.
"Hold up your hair."
He was so tall the top of his head was beyond the mirror's capture. Aya Naamah came up to his chest, just at his sternum. She loved how enveloping her Lord Master was. As she grasped onto her wealth of dark hair, Rafel drew in lungfuls of her [aurora mist] fragrance and studied the sparkles on her blue-blush nails. He loved this quiet time with his [Bond].
Now he knew why his uncle, Lord Morningstar kept his own concubine, Vashti with his all these many centuries. No earthly relationship, parental or filial, could compare to the union between a demon [Sire] and his Bond—whatever species such Hellion deigned to pick from.
Rafel unlocked the necklace and wrapped it around her fair neck. Her skin was so delicate and pure. The real bluish tints of her succubian origins were translucent under the amber bedchamber lights. The periapt hung down to spot of skin just above her cleavage. If he'd asked the mirror now, it would sure as hell proclaim Aya Naamah the fairest of them all. She was his Snow White.
Her rich ebony waves and skin of a mulatta princess.
The charm dangling down her bodice was his gift: the prize of the Great Hunt. The very labor he had just won.
Rafel lifted his eyes to mirror and stared enamored at the little ivory antlers against her lightest brown skin.
"Naamah, you are beautiful. I should tell you that more."
"Oh, m'lord," she fell into his chest, her heart swelling with deep immortal love, "I know how you feel about me. You don't need to spoil me every week for it. And this periapt of Athena... it's too much. Everyone in the school knows it is the prize of the hunt, which you won fair and square. It is more valued than a green ocean diamond.
I-I just don't think I should have it."
Rafel's lips lowered to her ear. He purred thickly against the flutter of her pulse, mildly stroking her neck with bites. "You're right. The charm is mine. And as such I am free to do with it as I want." His large hand closed over her neck. "—to give to whom ever I want.
And I want you, Naamah."
Aya shivered on her feet. "I-I w-want you too, my lo—"
"Shush." His thumb entered her mouth. "I want you to have it. I'm not changing my mind about it. I want you to walk the halls of the fucking citadel with it in your neck. I want them to see it on you. I want them to stare, and gossip, and know that you are mine.
In public, you will wear the charm as my collar on you." Aya moaned and rubbed herself back into him. He was so big and warm. She sucked on his finger and he swiftly pulled it out.
His yellow eyes burned as it met hers in the mirror.
"Don't tempt me." He growled.
And he released her. She closed her eyes a second to calm the heady arousal. Rafel went back and sat on the bed. His gaze scorched the little distance to her. He said in wolfish bass, "now get those fucking heels and let's go."
Aya nodded, and speedily dived into her closet for the expensive set that rose to meet her eyes. Her Lord Master did spoil her in many, many ways.
The winners of the Hunt had been announced four hours ago, at the last scarlet light of dusk. It was few minutes into nine o'clock now, but far in the amphitheater, the leaderboard still glowed with the twelve shiny names. The great holographic screen lit the tar sky above it and spilled onto the surrounding streets by the colosseum. Aya stared at it as their carriage went past the host stadium.
It was just tall enough that she could see the gilded letters spelling the first name on the board.
Her Sire's name.
She turned back from the window with a smile, to look at him. This time it was her with the eyes full of pride. Violet. Seductive. With cheeks blushed by the cold night air. Rafel was already making her night, and they weren't even at Bolta's party yet.
His kiss was sudden and a blast of electricity to Bolta. His mouth was delicious and stoked the fire that had being burning all night in anticipation of him. Of this very thing they were about to do. "Mhmm." Bolta fisted his shirt when he deepened the angle. She had to tear away to breathe; she could kiss the beautiful boy all night. Rafel let her push him against the door.
He rested his back against it, knowing how well his compliance turned her on.
"Stay, please. I just wanna watch you." Bolta bit her bottom lip hard.
She moved back and ripped off her blue jacket. She dragged up her shirt, breathing hard when she saw Rafel's amber eyes darken on the ink across her belly. She had hard abs. A fiery sexiness about her. Her hands went back and she popped her bra. She massaged the released peaks with both hands.
Rafel growled by the door. "I want to touch too."
"Stay," she purred, "stay right fucking there!"
Bolta was already shaking from need. She felt she would just about loose the lid on her own teasing. She tore at the fly of her hard military trousers, and pulled it down. She tossed it far across the sultry room to the window with her boot. It made a thunk with the glass. And she stood, haloed in pure light.
Her tights were dark blue, like her eyes, and like her energy. Dark blue lightning.
Barefooted, she padded for Rafel.
Her luscious body flattened him against the door.
"I want you, soldier," he grated, licking her neck.
SWAT!
Rafel's right palm connected with her butt cheek.
"Oh yeah? How much?" Bolta managed; he was squeezing her ass. And his left hand was busy with her heavy breasts, clutching and grasping. "How fucking much?" She grinded against his body.
Rafel raked the hand on her giant buttocks up her back and fisted her punk hair. He pulled so she met his eyes. And said in cold fever desire, "I want you like Hades and Persephone. I want you like death."
Bolta, hearing these words melted in his grip. It was thr weirdest but sincerest thing anyone had said to her. At that moment, her need reached it's peak. And her body burst into sparks of blue lightning. The crackling of electricity zapped across her skin. It glowed ethereal blue, and shimmered like tiny shards of sapphire-glass.
It burned the clothes off Rafel's body.
The hard maleness of him kissed up her inner thigh, seeking connection.
"Oh gods! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Bolta tried to apologize for the lightning zaps. "It happens when I'm very horny."
Rafel turned her chin up to his face. "I like you just fine, thunder girl." His voice hardened. "—but that's the last soft shit you'll get from me."
Bolta didn't even have time to think on his words, before she was turned over and slammed into the wall. In Rafel's place. He was suddenly behind her. "Ohh." Bolta gasped. Her dragged down the flimsy tights to her knees. Too inflamed by lust to get comfortable, Rafel pummeled into her, right there against the wall.
"Oh fuck." He and Bolta hissed together.
The connection was slick and tight.
Rafel didn't pull out for the first few seconds. He held inside her that way, and let her grind and whimper. Aya Naamah walked out of the shadows the lamps didn't reach. She moved to the wall, where Rafel bent Bolta back by her hair; his cock deep inside her, throbbing hot. Gently, she touched Bolta's shoulder and the blue zaps of electricity snapping at her fingers.
She kissed Bolta's godly flesh. "Do you feel that, thunder girl? It's US about to fuck the shit out of you."