Page 30 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

The biggest drawback to walking through Lilith’s Hell in my own skin was knowing how everyone would see every fault in my form. Every weakness I’d tried to improve over the centuries, every flaw I’d hidden beneath host bodies, every detail of my essence I despised. A complex created after eons of Beelzebub parading his shame, undercutting my successes, showing what his truly superior demons were capable of.

But while I hated my appearance, hated the inferiority my body possessed in comparison to some of the strongest Diabolics dwelling in Beelzebub’s Hell, it didn’t compare to Mora. She was stuck with a body that wasn’t hers, never fit her right, never reflected the demon she was. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have Mora at my side during this Devil’s Banquet. She was more than a king of Hell. She was a political genius, a savvy entrepreneur, and a cunning tactician.

Wally’s curious, quiet gaze called to me. Even looking away from him, I could feel his need to speak, yet just as I sensed his antsy energy, he sensed my desire to take in my form. Or perhaps he simply felt guilty for the bad order. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I placed my hands on my hips and wiggled them to shake my dick and get a laugh out of Wally. “Just wondering what I’m gonna wear or if I should rock out with my cock out.”

“May I make a suggestion on a personal favorite?” Wally held up a pair of skimpy clothed underwear that all the demon attendants awaiting us outside wore.

I didn’t care for Wally’s choice, but I could see his eagerness in me flaunting my body. He didn’t see the blemishes across my gray skin, the need for improvement in my muscles, the faults in my features, or anything other than perfection. To Wally, I embodied beauty, confidence oozing from my pores, so I sauntered over to the rack of clothes, swaying my hips and relishing Wally’s eyes locked onto my diabolically sexy bubble butt.

I wouldn’t wear the togas or tunics. But I didn’t care for the full-scaled armor either. Sifting through the selection, I found a piece I enjoyed here and there. I grabbed a smaller set of gauntlets for my wrists without detracting from the ombre effect of my essence coating my arms. I snapped a crown of leaves into pieces and adorned the golden shimmers between the feathers of my wings. Then to hold the outfit together, I slipped on a dark brown leather skirt divided into several slit straps.

“A gladiator’s war skirt.” Wally nodded approvingly, biting his lower lip and likely holding back some random factoid about the clothing. “It’s very becoming.”

“As in you’ll be coming while I’m in it?” I winked.

He snickered. “Exactly.”

“And what’re you planning on wearing?” I batted my lashes. “And don’t think you can escape the themed wardrobe because of your devilish station.”

“Actually, I always wanted to do a Greek or Roman-inspired costume, so this is kind of like a dream.” Wally rifled through a few of the clothes on display. “Aside from the fact that one misstep in said dream will turn the entirety of this into an absolute nightmare which would potentially lead to my death, your death, the death of everyone in the Diabolic Oasis, thedeath of everyone in the world, and yeah—sort of taints a bit of the daydream factor.”

Wally grabbed a black tunic with a golden robe to tie around his waist, along with matching gold-laced sandals that tied to his knees and a crown of leaves to set atop his head.

“That said, I look pretty stylish.” He popped his hip, looking cute as fuck. And I do mean fuckable in the cutest way.

Using my tails, I pulled Wally closer. His cheeks burned red as his lips nearly pressed against mine from the swift shuffle. Then, I tore the front of his tunic open, exposing his muscular chest, and ripped the sides of the tunic’s skirt bottom to reveal his lovely thighs.

“Hey!” he whined.

“Now, you practically look perfect.” I kissed him, shoving my tongue in his mouth and massaging his before he could protest a hundred complaints about how I’d ruined his choice outfit. “The only thing that’ll make you look better is when I bend you over and hike your skirt up.”

He huffed and went to retrieve a new tunic. His brow furrowed, likely hating the color choices.

“Might as well keep on what you have.” I bumped my pelvis against his butt. “I’ll just end up ripping apart whatever you choose next until you’re all sexy for me again.”

“Not if I order you to behave,” Wally teased. “As the devil here, I am the one who makes the rules, right?”

“That so?” I spun him around, closing the distance between us so our crotches touched. Only the fabric of his short tunic and my frilly war skirt divided our skin. “What orders do you have, Lord Devil Walter Alden?”

“Um…” His face scrunched, flustered yet aroused.

“Should I get on my knees and worship at your altar?” I dropped down without awaiting his command.

I’d craved Wally’s authority for some time, and when better than in Hell, where it might all come to an end? And if it was coming to an end, I wanted to cum with him one final time.

“Wait,” he whispered. “What about the demons out there?”

“They’re not listening.” I ran my teeth along the golden belt tying his tunic and tugged at the knot. “They wouldn’t dare.”

Wally held his breath, watching me with excitement. Delicately, I traced my clawed nails up Wally’s legs, rubbing the hairs, and rested my hands under the fabric of his outfit. He’d have to assert himself if he sought more. My thumbs rested close to the inside of his thighs, near his growing erection.

“How may I serve you, Walter?”

He released a swift and heavy breath, exhaling all his nervousness, and then lifted his tunic to reveal his rock-hard cock. Without a word, I went to work. I held the tip in my mouth, resting the head on my tongue, rotating to massage the nerves. Wally sucked his teeth, immediately entranced by the sensation, but I’d just begun. I swallowed further, taking in the whole shaft to the base of his crotch.

Wally moaned, stifling the noise as he slapped a hand on the back of my head, hoping to hold me here longer, keep the feeling from fading. I swirled my head, keeping Wally’s cock in my throat. He wasn’t small or large, but even if he were, my gag reflex didn’t really exist. I could swallow a sword if I were craving it, so Wally’s seven inches didn’t exactly choke me.

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