Page 2 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“Fine. What if I destroy your special training room?”

Bez scoffed, completely offended I’d make the accusation. This was his special room, too. He didn’t lift a finger to clean at home but made sure to take care of everything here, from combat tools, portraits, and furniture all the way to stocking the fridge daily. Even the intricate sigils that he’d taken the time to set up himself—a big shocker since he was so lax about magical maintenance—worked to contain our strikes in this area so they didn’t spill out into the store.

He probably would’ve built this at home, like a personal gym, but Bez knew me too well and figured most of my days would be spent at the Well of Wonders, where I studied and fixed rare artifacts all day, every day. He wasn’t wrong.Still wish he didn’t drag out his post-training lectures to eat into my entire break.

“Are you even listening to me, Walter?” Bez had his hands on his waist, and I found my eyes drifting along the muscles of his abdomen to the exposed happy trail leading to his crotch.

“Yes.” I stood up. “I just need to—”

“You need to learn how to manifest your Diabolic extensions at will. Wings. Tail. Claws.” Bez waved a dismissive hand at my desire to return to work and put an end to his post-training lecture. “Any of those could’ve and would’ve surely helped in maintaining your position.”

“Oh? You think my little cherub-sized wings would’ve kept you pinned?” I definitely added a heavy lilt of sarcasm to my question, but he’d mocked my tiny wings every time they’d randomly sprung out.

“Certainly. With a precise flap of those wings, mixed with the Pentacles of Power surging through your body—I mean, Walter, you could’ve summoned elements to strengthen your attack. You could’ve spread your saturation around the terrain, claiming this area as yours.”

I huffed. “Fine. The wings would’ve been useful.”

“Or your tail.” Bez used one of his own tails to tickle my chin while using a second to weave an incantation in the air. “They’re perfect for sneaky, delicate work such as drawing a swift spell to assist in whatever you need.”

The incantation glowed and suddenly knocked me off my feet. I grunted as I hit the floormat.

“Ow.”

“With mastery over the Pentacles of Power and access to Diabolic essence, you need to learn how to use them in tandem.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I dug my hands into the floormat, wishing I could shift my fingers into claws and slash the thin padding to ribbons. I mean, technically, I could. I knew a dozen incantations that’d offer me elongated claws for such a purpose. My mage magics worked just fine. “But after damn near eighteen months, I haven’t made an ounce of progress on my Diabolic abilities.”

I didn’t need to mutter the rest of my thoughts; Bez knew them.

“You’ll get there once we get you outta your own head.” Bez looked down at me, not with judgment—not like he was actually looking down on me, but more of a carnal gaze, a primal stare. Suddenly, he was slinking toward me with less of a lecture on his lips and more of a smirk. “But let’s be honest, your mind wasn’t on training today.”

“Well, there’s just so many orders I need to go through at the shop, and there’s a shipment of artifacts I need to catalog, plus I’ve still got to inventory—”

“I don’t mean work.” Bez knelt, crawling toward me on his hands and knees. “Your mind wasn’t there either. No, no, no. I could feel exactly which head you were thinking with while we trained.”

“Huh?” My face burned.

Bez swiftly circled me, his eyes locked onto mine one second, and then his smirk appeared in my peripheral the next. “Dirty little mage only had one thing on his mind.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I shivered when Bez’s tail caressed my neck, and then another wrapped around my inner thigh.

“I could feel your boner pressed against my ass.” Bez whipped around, straddling my waist and shoving me onto my back. “Sort of like this, well you were on top…momentarily.”

I didn’t usually get aroused by the idea of fucking Bez. I mean,I do, but not with me doing the fucking. The most thrust-happy I usually got involved his face or throat on occasion, and even then, I often preferred being the one in a satisfying position meant to satiate his needs. That brought me pleasure.

Yet here I was, getting hard as Bez rubbed against my crouch. I wrapped my hands around his waist, desiring to control the pace of his thrusts. He looked at me with this smoldering expression. The red of his irises expanded, pupils shrinking, and black veins highlighting the pinks of his sclera. Gods, when the pinks of his eyes got glossy ever so, I found myself even more enamored.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Walter?”

“W-w-what?” I bit my lower lip because I’d never fucked anyone. I mean, yes, I’d had a lot of sex with several different individuals in my lifetime, but I’d always known which position I preferred, and that hadn’t changed over the years.

“I can feel the urge.” Bez kissed me, his lips pressed so rough against mine, it distracted from my need to mumble, my need to fill the silence with words, because he’d filled the quiet with passion. “The desire in your hold.”

I strengthened my grip around Bez’s waist, one hand sliding down his joggers and getting a firm grip on his ass. Gods, what an ass it was too.

“The thrust as you fought to pin me,” Bez whispered, and when I went to speak, he nibbled on my lower lip, silencing me. “But if you wanna be in charge, you’re gonna have to be a bit more assertive.”

Bez slid off my waist in a blur and flipped me onto my stomach. Running his hands down my spine, the sensation of his claws tearing at the fabric of my shirt incited the deep arch of my back.

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