Page 24 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

Whether the longing in my gaze or the subtle gesture with my hand, Wally caught my desire for him to slowly strip. I wanted a show. I wanted to savor this. I wanted to hold onto this fleeting bliss because who knew what awaited us.

“There’s no preparation we can make in the time we have,” I said. “And with Mora tending to witchy bullshit business and Kell’s timely tinkering, we could be waiting for the rest of the night.”

Or the next several days if I were fortunate. In which case, I’d spend the entirety of them railing sweet Wally.

He unfastened his jeans, slowly working them down his hips and letting them linger at his knees before dropping them to his ankles.

“Knock, knock, knockity, knock!” Kell’s voice rang loudly to the beat of her door knock.

“Aaaah!” Wally shouted as he fumbled with his discarded shirt and his jeans.

He tumbled forward with his head poking through one of the arm holes of his shirt, and his pants poorly slipped up to his thighs. Kell flung the door open wide, a smile on her face and a flame in her hand, while Wally wriggled on the floor into his clothes.

“Walter.” I sighed and shook my head.

“Oh.” Kell looked down at Wally. “Am I interrupting?”

“What?” He finally found the right hole—the number of jokes I could make—and slipped into the tee shirt as he wiggled his butt against the floor to squeeze his ass into his tight jeans.

“Shame.” Kell pouted. “There’s nothing hotter than watching cute boys smash together their cute parts. Speaking of hot.”

She blew on the fiery key meant to lead us to Hell and sent it fluttering across the room on a gentle breeze. I caught the wisp of fire with a telekinetic grip.

“As promised, it’s completely intact, and I’ve successfully made a copy of the magical signatures used.”

“How’d you pull that off?” Wally asked. “There’s not many spells in existence that can mimic energy without breaking it or stealing it or…yeah. Are you sure you didn’t mess up the key?”

“I’m a professional, Walter,” Kell answered. “And I used a Doppelganger Reflective Replica spell.”

“Whoa.” The embarrassment on Wally’s face became replaced by intrigue, curiosity, and likely a hundred thousand questions based on the size his eyes had expanded to. “That’s just a theory. No one’s ever successfully done that spell.”

“Well, I’m fabulous as fuck, so naturally I pulled it off.” Kell ran a hand through her hair and flipped it over her shoulder before turning to leave. “Try not to die in Hell. Take lots of pics. I want to hear all about it!”

And with that, we were alone again in the study with a key to Hell and no reason to linger. The Devil’s Banquet awaited our arrival.

“So, how do we do this?” Wally asked, staring closely at the flickering flame. “Like, is there a password?”

“Did that buffoon who delivered it give you a password?”

“No, but like, maybe there’s some unknown Diabolic code I’m just expected to understand.”

“It should instinctively react to your essence when you’re ready to leave.”

“Oh, but what if it’s like subconscious preparation?” Wally frowned. “Because I’ll never be ready. I mean, I’d need to complete a checklist of at least my top hundred priorities before I even considered being ready.”

“More like top thousand.” I folded my arms.

“Seriously.” Wally brought his hand close, testing the heat of the fire. “Is it subconscious? Maybe I need to touch the fire.”

“You don’t need to touch the flame.”

“Thank goodness because I don’t like fire,” Wally said. “I suppose there’s always a chance that maybe she changed her mind. Or perhaps—”

The fireball erupted, carrying waves of Diabolic energy throughout the room until everything faded from the world, and we were dragged out of the mortal realm and into Hell itself.

7

Wally

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