Page 70 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“I want more.”

Continuing, I lifted off him some, pulling him into a further arch by squeezing his flexed biceps and pulling them back. With his tail more obedient, perhaps under Wally’s control, I released one of mine and used it to tie Wally’s arms behind his back as I pounded away.

Eventually, I pulled out and flipped him onto his back, his arms uncomfortably pinned behind him as I spread his legs and slipped between them. I enjoyed the shift in Wally’s expression. The tension when I pushed the head of my cock back into him. The contorted pain of each inch he took. The way it crumbled away and his face melted into something of pleasure once he finally readjusted to my dick again.

I watched every inch pull out to the tip before I shoved it back to the base. Such a satisfying sight to fill his hole again and again while he whimpered and writhed, taking it.

“Look how hard you are.” I ran my hand over his twitching cock; each thrust brought him closer and closer. I wouldn’t even need to touch him, but I wanted to stroke him to completion. I wanted to feel his cock explode. And I did. Three quick tugs, and he came, hips spasming a moment as he shot long pearl strands along his chest and torso.

I played with his flaccid cock, loving the feel of it shrinking in my hand as some of the remaining cum slicked my fingers and made milking him a bit further all the easier.

Part of me wanted to stroke him hard again, make him beg all over, dragging out this pleasure over and over until he couldn’t move. But already, I could see his eyes glazed in satisfaction, content, and seeking me to finish.

I hugged him tight, kissing him, licking his neck, nibbling on his skin, and all the while ramming him again and again, harder each time. Every stroke brought me closer and closer until, finally, I buried myself all the way in and burst. I bit down on his shoulder, tasting him as I filled his hole with my seed.

“Fuck.” I growled, laying on top of him and breathing in unison with his panting for the sheer satisfaction of sharing this synchronized moment. “Gimme ten, and let’s go for round two. Got to make up for the last month.”

“I’m gonna need more than ten.” He quivered beneath me, gathering himself.

“Guess I can give you fifteen.”

“Bez.” He huffed.

“Fine.”

I didn’t resist Wally’s push when he repositioned us into a spooning cuddle. Normally, I’d allow him to be the big spoon. There was something satisfying in being held, being embraced and given that affectionate comfort. But he was clearly worn out and craved his own comfort, so I held him gingerly, scooting in tight and nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck.

We rested here for hours together, and I loved every second of it. I wanted more seconds. Always more when it came to Wally. I wanted all the time. Forever and then a little bit longer because I was greedy for him.

“I love you, Wally.” I kissed his neck.

“I love you, too, Bez.” He squeezed my hand and pulled it close to his lips for a gentle peck.

How I wanted to ensure we’d have more time. More of this. More sweet cuddles. More fucking until he collapsed. More love. More forevers.

If I wanted those mores, then I needed to fix what I ruined. I needed to ensure Lilith and Beelzebub were truly gone and lost to the universe. I needed to make sure her Hell was locked and every secretive escape route was snuffed out of existence.

21

Wally

We lay together on the floor. Bez teased me with his tails, fingertips tickling my skin, and his mouth kissing and licking and tasting. There was nothing more satisfying than getting fucked by a big bad demon who loved you. But damn, I was tired. I had no energy for his attempt at coaxing me into another round. My throat was sore, too sore to talk to Bez or make snippy comments. My ass was tired, too tired to buck against his hardening dick that he already positioned like a fucking torpedo—quite literally, it seemed. My every muscle was spent to its limit, my essence circulating to compensate for the exhaustion.

So, I ignored Bez’s intentionally provocative gestures, forcing him to cuddle.

“How’s the search for the flame key copy coming along?” he asked.

“Eh.” I shrugged, scooching closer against him in the process.

Bez tiptoed his claws against my tender flesh, then traced his fingertips along the sculpted parts of my muscles. “I can help if you like.”

“Feels like a pointless endeavor.”

“Oh.” His hand stopped, and he retreated a bit, so I turned over and scooted in close again, wrapping my leg over his and coiling my tail from his ankles to thighs, which pretty much kept him snuggly stuck beside me.

I went to kiss him, to tease him, to cuddle him into submission or surrender, but Bez’s crimson eyes had turned glossy.

It hurt him. Not the stranglehold on his legs, but my comment, my casual disregard for his help, help he wanted to offer for a problem he blamed himself for. He held onto this like it was his fault.

---