Ch. 69 - The Deed (+18) (Patreon)

The room's balcony doors stood open, letting in the warm ocean breeze. Crystalline fixtures cast soft light across plush furniture that probably cost more than most demons spent in a year. Osweald gestured expansively at the space, pride evident in every movement.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He crossed to a cabinet and withdrew a bottle of amber liquid. "This entire wing belongs to my family's holdings. Well, my father's technically, but I manage the operations here."

Faith's confidence had begun cracking the moment we'd entered. She stood near the doorway, fingers clasped together in front of her. When I caught her eye, she attempted a smile that didn't quite reach her expression.

I settled onto the couch, angling myself to leave space beside me. "Your father must trust your judgment considerably."

"He does." Osweald poured three glasses. "The resort generates substantial revenue. We're expanding next year—another building, more luxury accommodations."

He sat between us, passing the drinks. His knee pressed against mine whilst his other hand found Faith's arm. She accepted the glass but didn't drink, her attention fixed on the amber contents.

The similarity to my first month struck me suddenly. Faith's hesitation, the way she held herself slightly apart—I'd done the same thing before finally surrendering to what my body demanded. Though I'd handled it worse, really. I'd shut down completely, letting instinct guide me whilst my consciousness retreated. At least Faith remained present, making choices even if they terrified her.

"To new friendships," Osweald said, raising his glass.

I lifted mine and sipped. The liquid burned pleasantly. Faith managed a small swallow, her throat working.

Osweald's fingers traced patterns up her arm. "You're quiet suddenly. Everything alright?"

"Fine," Faith said. The word came out too quickly.

I leaned closer to Osweald, letting my hand rest on his thigh. "She's always shy at first. Give her time."

His attention shifted to me, his pupils dilating as I stroked upward slightly. "And you're not shy at all."

"Why would I be?" I turned my face toward his neck, breathing against his skin. My lips brushed just below his ear. "Life's too short for hesitation."

His breath caught. Good—focus on me instead of Faith's nervousness.

Across from us, I caught glimpses of Aria and Isabella through the connecting door they'd left ajar. Aria had Ilos pressed against the wall, her mouth on his whilst her tail traced suggestive patterns. Isabella had guided Deort to the bed, her movements precise and controlled as she removed his shirt.

Faith watched them for a moment, then looked at me. Her eyes widened slightly as Osweald's hand found my waist, pulling me closer.

I kissed his jaw, his cheek, finally his mouth. He tasted like the drink—sweet with an edge of heat. His hands became bolder, one sliding up my ribs whilst the other reached for Faith.

She froze completely when his fingers touched her knee.

I broke the kiss, turning to meet her gaze whilst Osweald's mouth moved to my neck. "Breathe," I whispered.

Faith's chest rose sharply. Her hand trembled around the glass.

"You're doing well," I continued softly. Osweald's teeth grazed my shoulder, sending pleasant shivers through me that had nothing to do with feeding yet. "Better than I did at first."

"I don't—" Faith's voice barely carried. "I don't know if I can—"

"Yes, you can." I reached across Osweald to touch her hand. "If I could do this, you definitely can. And I used to be a guy, remember?"

A ghost of a smile crossed her face.

Osweald lifted his head. "What are you two whispering about?"

Faith opened her mouth but no sound emerged.

"We're deciding," I said, meeting Osweald's eyes whilst my fingers walked up his chest, "which of us gets you first."

His breath stopped entirely. "Both of you together works better."

"Does it?" I traced the edge of his collar. "Faith, what do you think?"

She set her glass down with careful precision. When she looked up, something had shifted in her expression—still nervous, but determined underneath. "Together sounds... good."

"See?" I smiled at her, then at Osweald. "We agree."

He pulled me back into a kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. His hand squeezed my hip whilst his other arm extended toward Faith in clear invitation.

I felt her hesitation through the bond we'd shared since I'd changed her. The pull of hunger warred with lingering human resistance, creating tension that radiated from her in waves.

When I opened my eyes, Faith had moved closer. Not touching yet, but watching us with an intensity that made my skin warm.

Osweald broke away from my mouth to reach for her. This time when his fingers found her face, she didn't pull back. His thumb traced her lower lip.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

Faith's eyes met mine over his shoulder. I saw the question there—the same one I'd asked myself months ago. Can I really do this?

I nodded slightly.

Her lips parted under Osweald's touch. When he leaned toward her, she let him close the distance, accepting the kiss with only a moment's pause.

Pride flickered through me, unexpected and warm. She was doing it. Actually choosing this instead of fighting every step.

Osweald's hand found mine, guiding it to Faith's shoulder. His other arm pulled her closer, creating a triangle between the three of us. Faith's breathing quickened against his mouth.

I stroked her arm gently, offering reassurance through touch whilst Osweald's attention divided between us. When Faith's hand tentatively found my waist, warmth bloomed in my chest.

"You're corrupting me," Faith whispered when Osweald's mouth moved to her neck.

"Is that bad?" I asked.

Her fingers tightened against my side. "No."

*

Osweald's hands fumbled with the straps of my top whilst his mouth stayed locked on Faith's. I reached back, undoing the clasps myself in two quick movements. The fabric fell away.

His eyes widened when he pulled back to look. "You're—"

"Perfect?" I guided his hand to my breast, keeping my voice light. "I know."

Faith's cheeks darkened as she watched his palm cup my flesh. Her own top still hung intact, though Osweald's other hand had migrated to her waist.

I leaned forward, kissing his neck whilst my fingers found the buttons of his shirt. "Your turn."

He released me to help, shrugging out of the expensive silk. His chest revealed soft muscles, the kind that came from occasional exercise rather than real effort. Not unpleasant, just... comfortable. Privileged.

Faith's fingers traced his collarbone, tentative and curious.

"Help her with hers," I whispered in his ear.

He turned to Faith immediately, hands moving to the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, letting him pull it over her head. Her breasts drew his attention completely—larger than mine, though not by much.

"Beautiful," he breathed, exactly as I'd predicted he would.

Faith bit her lip as his mouth descended to her chest. Her eyes found mine, uncertain.

I moved behind him, pressing against his back whilst my hands slid around to his belt. "Relax," I murmured to both of them.

The buckle came undone easily. His trousers followed, pooling at his feet. When I looked down, my initial assessment proved correct—average, perhaps slightly below. Nothing impressive.

Bellas spoiled you, I thought wryly. Our elf slave had been magically enhanced specifically for pleasure, his eight inches and supernatural stamina the result of magical enhancement. This was... normal.

Osweald stepped out of his discarded clothes, pulling Faith closer. His hands found the waistband of her shorts.

She tensed again.

"Together," I suggested, moving to her side. My fingers joined his, easing the fabric down her hips whilst he focused on kissing her shoulders. "See? Easy."

Faith kicked the shorts away once they reached her ankles. Her underwear remained—white and simple, chosen this morning before any of us knew how the day would unfold.

I removed my own skirt, then her final barrier whilst Osweald watched with obvious hunger. His arousal pressed against my hip when I stood.

"On the bed," I told them both.

Faith moved first, climbing onto the mattress with movements that projected innocence and uncertainty. Perfect—exactly what would keep him engaged without overwhelming her.

Osweald followed immediately, positioning himself between her legs.

"Wait." I caught his shoulder. "Not yet."

He looked confused but stopped.

Professor Moira's lessons echoed in my mind—Never rush. Build anticipation. Make them think each step is their idea.

I straddled his thighs, pressing him back against the pillows whilst Faith watched from the side. My mouth found his again, kissing slowly whilst my hand wrapped around his length.

He groaned into my lips.

Three strokes. That's all it took before his hips bucked upward, desperate.

Definitely below average stamina, I noted clinically. Maybe ninety seconds if we're not careful.

I pulled back, releasing him before he could finish. "Faith, come here."

She crawled closer, her movements awkward but somehow more enticing for it.

"Touch him," I instructed. "Like this."

I demonstrated again, slower this time. Faith's hand joined mine, her fingers tentative against his heated skin.

Osweald's head fell back. "Please—"

"Shh." I smiled at Faith. "Use your mouth."

Her eyes widened, but she lowered her head without protest. Her tongue touched the tip experimentally.

Osweald's entire body jerked.

I positioned myself beside Faith, my own mouth joining hers. We worked together, her inexperience balanced by my guidance. His taste filled my senses—normal, mortal, unremarkable except for the trickle of vital essence beginning to flow.

Faith moaned softly, the sound vibrating against him.

My hand slipped between my own legs, fingers finding slick heat whilst my mouth stayed focused on feeding. Beside me, Faith's free hand moved to her own centre, mirroring my actions.

We pleasured ourselves whilst we worked him toward climax, building our own arousal alongside his. The energy transfer remained minimal so far—just enough to taste, not enough to satisfy.

Osweald's breathing turned ragged. His fingers tangled in my hair, then Faith's, unable to choose.

Two minutes. Maybe two and a half.

His hips thrust upward sharply. "I'm—I can't—"

He finished without further warning, spilling into Faith's mouth whilst she gasped in surprise.

I pulled back to watch. Faith's eyes went wide, her throat working as she swallowed reflexively. Then her expression shifted—shock giving way to something closer to wonder.

The vital essence in his release flooded her senses. I felt my own hunger diminish slightly from the ambient energy, but Faith clearly experienced something more intense.

She sat back, lips parted, staring at nothing whilst she processed whatever had just happened.

"Faith?" I touched her shoulder.

She blinked. "That was—" Her voice caught. "Different than I expected."

Osweald lay panting on the pillows, his body already going slack.

Can't have that. I reached for the magical pathways inside myself, channeling energy into a basic arousal enhancement. The spell settled over him like invisible hands, stroking and teasing until his spent flesh began to harden again.

He groaned, confused but responsive. "How—?"

"Stamina." I straddled his hips properly now, positioning him at my entrance. "You've got plenty, right?"

"Yes," he managed, though his eyes showed uncertainty.

I sank down slowly, taking him inside whilst my hands braced on his chest. The stretch felt pleasant but unimpressive—nothing like Bellas or Brutus or other partners I'd taken back in Hell.

Still, I moved my hips in practised circles, establishing a rhythm whilst Faith watched.

"Your turn," I told her after a minute.

She hesitated only briefly before climbing over Osweald's face, settling carefully over his mouth.

His tongue found her immediately, eager despite his earlier finish.

I rode him steadily, my body responding to the physical sensation and the gradual flow of essence more than to any real pleasure. The magic kept him hard, kept him thrusting upward to meet my movements, but his technique remained... basic.

Rich boys, I thought. Never had to try.

Still, I moaned convincingly, arching my back and letting my breasts bounce with each movement. His eyes locked on them, his hands reaching up to grasp.

"You feel so good," I breathed. "So big."

He wasn't. But the words made him thrust harder, gave him confidence.

Faith's breathing quickened above his face. Her hands found my shoulders, using me for balance whilst Osweald's tongue worked between her legs.

We moved together, building toward a release that I knew wouldn't come—not for us. Mortals outside Hell rarely lasted long enough to truly satisfy a succubus. This was about feeding, about gathering enough energy to sustain us through tomorrow's travel.

The vital essence flowed more freely now, pulled from him with each thrust, each gasp, each moment of pleasure. I felt it filling the hollow spaces inside me, sating the constant hunger that defined my existence.

Ten minutes passed. Then twelve.

Faith's eyes met mine, her expression showing the same awareness—we were feeding well, but our bodies remained unsatisfied.

Osweald's movements grew more desperate beneath me. The magic was fading, his natural stamina unable to sustain what I'd artificially created.

Fifteen minutes total when his rhythm finally broke completely. He finished inside me with a choked cry, his hips jerking twice before going still.

The rush of essence at climax flooded through both of us—Faith through proximity, me through direct contact. My hunger retreated significantly, leaving me pleasantly full.

But my body still ached for release, for the orgasm that hadn't come.

I lifted off Osweald carefully. He lay unconscious now, chest rising and falling in deep, exhausted breaths.

"Should we wake him?" Faith whispered.

I considered using more magic, pushing his body beyond natural limits. But that risked permanent damage, possibly death.

"No." I touched his neck, checking his pulse. Strong enough. "He'll recover."

Faith climbed off his face, settling beside me on the bed. We both sat there, naked and unsatisfied despite our fed hunger.

*

Faith stared at Osweald's unconscious form, her expression caught between satisfaction and disappointment. "I didn't even..." She pressed her lips together. "Not once."

"Apparently that's common with mortals." I shifted on the bed, tucking one leg beneath me. "Professor Moira mentioned it during seduction class. They lack the skill, and without magical enhancement they can't make up for it with stamina. Unless we want to risk killing them, it's basically fifty-fifty whether we finish."

"Though I don't know how true that is." I glanced at Osweald's slack face. "I don't have much experience outside Hell either."

Faith's eyebrows rose. "Really? You looked like you'd done this hundreds of times."

Heat crept up my neck. "Technically yes, but actually no. This was roughly my fifth time feeding outside Hell. The other four times I was more restrained, more awkward—I hadn't fully accepted being Lily yet."

The words settled between us whilst I processed what I'd just admitted. My thoughts during the sex had been... clinical. Dismissive. I'd performed for him, moaned and arched because that's what would draw more essence, not because I felt anything genuine.

When had I started acting like that?

"In Hell though," I continued, pushing past the discomfort, "I've had sex much more often."

"How much more?" Faith's tone held curiosity rather than judgment.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Do you remember how many breads you have eaten in your life?"

"Speaking of which." I leaned closer, letting my voice drop into a teasing register. "Your technique wasn't bad either. Much more experienced than I remember."

Faith's cheeks darkened, her eyes widening before she looked away. "I just—I followed what seemed appropriate. What my body wanted."

A laugh bubbled up from my chest. This was why Aria loved teasing me so much. The reactions were genuinely amusing.

"That's basically how it works for me too." I touched her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin. "I'm not some expert. I've just had more time adapting to the instincts, plus what I learned at the Academy."

"Right." Faith's breathing had quickened slightly.

"So now all that's left is dealing with our frustration some other way."

The door between our room and the adjacent suite stood slightly ajar. I could hear Isabella's voice, low and satisfied, followed by Aria's distinctive laugh.

Faith's hand found mine, her fingers threading between my own. "We could..." She swallowed. "Have some more fun. Together."

"Oh?" I shifted closer, our knees touching. "You were so against this earlier."

"That's different." Her thumb traced circles on my palm. "That was with some random person. This is you."

Something warm spread through my chest—not hunger, not feeding need, but genuine pleasure at her words.

The door pushed open wider. Aria appeared first, completely naked with her skin still flushed from recent activity. Isabella followed, equally bare, her silver hair slightly dishevelled.

"Are you two just going to sit there talking all night?" Aria's grin showed far too much satisfaction. "Because we're ready for round two."

Faith's fingers tensed in mine. I glanced at her, reading the conflict in her expression—wanting privacy, wanting this moment between us alone, but also hunger, curiosity about experiencing more.

"After," I said firmly. "You can join after Faith and I have some time together first."

Isabella's eyebrow rose, but she nodded. "Fair enough."

"We'll be here." Aria draped herself across one of the chairs near the window, showing no shame about her nudity or her intentions to watch.

Faith looked at me, a question in her eyes.

I leaned in, letting my lips brush her ear. "Ignore them."

Then I kissed her properly—no performance, no calculated seduction, just genuine desire. Her mouth opened beneath mine, her hands coming up to frame my face whilst I pressed closer.

The bed shifted as I guided her down onto the mattress, my body covering hers whilst we kissed. Her skin felt warm against mine, her breasts soft where they pressed against my own.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat when my thigh slid between her legs, creating friction where she needed it most.

"Lily," she breathed.

"Right here." I kissed down her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath my lips.

My hand traced the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, learning her body's landscape through touch whilst she arched beneath me. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, demanding more.

I gave it to her—slow kisses down her sternum, my tongue finding the valley between her breasts. Her skin tasted like salt and something sweeter, uniquely Faith.

"Please," she whispered.

I smiled against her skin, taking my time despite her plea. This wasn't feeding. This was pleasure for its own sake, for the connection between us, for the simple joy of making her gasp and writhe.

When my hand finally slid between her thighs, she was already wet. I circled slowly, teasing, watching her face whilst she bit her lip and tried not to beg again.

"You're cruel," she managed.

"I learned from the best." I kissed her again, swallowing her moan as my fingers found the right rhythm.

From the chair by the window, Aria made an appreciative sound. "Now that's more like it."

I didn't bother looking up. All my attention belonged to Faith—her breathing, her movements, the way her body responded to every touch.

This was what I'd wanted. What we both needed.

The rest could wait.