Chapter Twenty-nine - Drunk in Love
Coldness.
He can feel it.
It hides deep within his core, ready to seep out and envelop him, ready to paralyze him.
Urushihara draws the air deep into his nose, trying to ignore the smell of snow lurking beneath Maou's signature vanilla aroma. Desperately, he plunges deeper into this kiss, concentrating entirely on Maou's taste, the way his tongue greedily plunders his mouth, his warmth, his firm body and his strong embrace.
"Hmmmmm..." a low hum penetrates his ears and something solidifies inside him. But only for a moment, until he realizes that it is not Gabriel, because Gabriel is not here.
The sound is coming from his own throat, and it's Maou's fingers combing through his hair, not Gabriel's.
The soft creaking comes not from trees groaning under their snow load, but from the hardwood floor, and the soft rustling is not that of feathers, but of cloth, pushed aside as greedy hands disturb clothing.
"Lucifer..." Maou's voice is a dark murmur close to his left ear, accompanied by his warm breath stroking his cheek, followed by his wet tongue licking over his auricle and his teeth nibbling at his earlobe.
Urushihara shudders all over his body and then again as Maou's hands slide down his sides, leaving a real trail of flame on his sensitive skin.
"Jacob..." Urushihara's world is blurred in a sea of warm feelings that begin with butterflies in his stomach and end with a true glow in his groin as he feels Maou's hard manhood on his own and then Maou's fingers on his hard-on.
This time it is Maou who makes a satisfied humming sound. Somehow they landed on the floor, two steps away from the safe bedroom, but Maou only notices it at the edge of his consciousness. A fire rushes through his veins that he cannot - and will not - control.
"Jacob..." gasping, Urushihara bends down to him. His hands under Maou's clothes claw into the warm flesh of his back, where his fingernails leave deep, crescent-shaped wounds. They are not the first and not the only ones he has left there in the last five minutes. But the constant, slightly aching pain only adds fuel to Maou's fire.
Maou devours Urushihara's next lusting sound with a deep, hungry kiss, while his right hand relentlessly drives them both to their first shared climax.
What he had thought about only an hour and a half ago, which made him hesitant and unsure for a short time, has now dissolved in his desire. It is like fire coursing through his veins. As it should be for a demon.
Where body and soul burn in the flames of passion, reason and rationality are silenced. All doubt is silenced.
Just the feel of their two rock-hard members in his hand is enough to drive him crazy.
One thing is for sure: if he has never consciously thought of his general as a sexual being before, he will certainly not be able to think of him as anything else from this day on. As the most beautiful, the most sensual and the most exciting creature he has ever had the luck to meet.
Urushihara arches underneath him again, his nails digging directly into Maou's shoulder blades this time, and then he moans longingly into her kiss, Maou feels the treacherous twitch under his fingers, feels it run warmly over his hand and involuntarily tightens his grip as he follows him over the cliff, reaching his own climax only a second later.
For a breathtaking, all too short eternity, he floats on one of the best orgasms he has ever had - a sweet nirvana, nothing and everything at the same time. And all of this consists only of his general, his fallen angel. His warm, trembling body is omnipresent, as are his scent and his hectic breathing. His arms around his neck, his legs, now powerless but still very present, wrapped around his hips as if he never wanted to let go.
Maou feels the need to reciprocate this gesture and so, despite his post-coital fatigue, he somehow manages to bring himself and Urushihara into an almost sitting position. And as he leans his back against the wall, holding his general tightly in his arms - leaving white, treacherous stains on his clothes without realizing it - and waits for his heartbeat to calm, he looks into that red face, beads of sweat still glistening at his temples, and his breath almost stops in awe. For the first time since he met him three hundred years ago, this otherwise domineering expression is completely honest and open. Even in the deepest unconsciousness or when plagued by nightmares, even in the greatest fear, Lucifer had never let down all the protective walls around him. His core, his true self, he showed to no one.
Until now.
Maou involuntarily puts both hands around his face and covers it with many small kisses.
Urushihara's eyes slowly open a crack, his right hand twitches upward and grabs Maou's dark green curls, reaching out and finding Maou's lips surprisingly unerringly.
A long, unbelievably tender kiss follows, into which Maou gladly sinks.
Urushihara ends the kiss as gently as he began it.
"Hey, Jacob," he finally murmurs while his right hand slowly strokes Maou's cheek. In a mysterious way, his rigid pupils find Maou's gaze and hold it.
"Say, is this real? "
A long sigh is released from Maou's heart as he touches Urushihara's forehead with his own.
"This is real, Lucifer," he confirms. "It's real, and it's just fantastic."
He pulls his head back and gives him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.
"You agree, don't you?" he asks uncertainly. For a moment, he is a little black goat again, looking for confirmation from his secret idol.
A small smile twitches around Urushihara's lips. How cute. The big, powerful demon king is looking for compliments. Normally, he would say something very frivolous, but he feels too good for that.
"Yes, I agree," he replies softly. The pleasant tiredness gradually gives way to the increasing signals of his body. First, he feels the breeze on his finest part and quickly pulls his shorts and sweatpants back over his hips. He feels the heat shoot up his cheeks. This senseless shame is much more embarrassing to him than his nakedness and for the first time he is glad to be blind because he does not have to see Maou's expression. The scoundrel must be enjoying himself royally.
Maou is indeed amused, but for different reasons; Urushihara is simply beautiful when he blushes with embarrassment.
On the other hand, Urushihara's actions remind him that he, too, should quickly get dressed properly again. He reluctantly releases him from his arms, but unlike Urushihara, he wears jeans and needs both hands.
"Couldn't you have waited until we were on the bed?" Urushihara complains quietly, sitting up straight and massaging his aching lower back with his fist. The hard floor was poison for his back.
Grinning, Maou takes him by the wrists and slowly pulls him up to hug him again.
"How about a hot shower and a relaxing massage, cor meum?"
My heart. Urushihara holds his breath for a moment.
This is so ...
cheesy.
But also the most beautiful thing he has ever heard.
He feels himself blushing.
Again.
He clears his throat.
"Sounds good," he pushes past the huge lump in his throat. His voice sounds incredibly harsh and hoarse, and he can only hope that Maou attributes it to his cough.
Although he cannot see it, he can tell by Maou's buoyant gait as he pulls him by the hand behind him that he is grinning like a satisfied, fat-eaten cat.
The clock on the kitchen radio reads exactly 8:53 p.m. as Ashiya puts aside the cleaning cloth and turns off the light. Emi and Chiho wished him good night ten minutes ago and retreated to their rooms with the half-asleep Alas-Ramus on Emi's arm.
Ashiya checks one last time if all doors and windows are locked before he goes up the stairs.
He doesn't bother to be particularly quiet, because the last thing he wants is to catch his king and Urushihara in an embarrassing situation.
That's why he keeps his ears sharp as well, but the soft laughter and the voices that only reach him in a muffled way through the closed door seem to be harmless enough.
In the small hallway, he almost stepped on Urushihara's knitting, Ashiya sighs deeply, bends down and picks it up, shaking his head.
A forgiving smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
They all heard what they were doing up here - literally. It was Chiho, of all people, who reacted faster than anyone else and turned up the music before Alas-Ramus could ask any curious questions. (Even if he doesn't know if the little one would have really asked such questions, she's hard to judge in such matters).
Chiho, however, was more mature than Emi, because while the heroine made a rather sour face and blushed, the high schooler just smiled and knocked Emi's character out of the field with her next move. This was the beginning of an exciting duel, in which Alas-Ramus, with Ashiya's active support, crossed the finish line and won the game.
Ashiya still has deep respect for the strategic skill Chiho demonstrated with this little action. He is relieved that his king finally found the courage to deal with the girl, and he is impressed by her mature reaction.
She really is a kind-hearted person with a strong character. At first, he thought his king's idea of appointing her as one of his generals was pure nonsense, but he is gradually convinced of her qualities. As long as she stays here on Earth. She will die like a primrose on the red moon.
Life there is just too hard.
She can't be like us.
Ashiya shakes his head to get rid of these thoughts and to concentrate on the here and now. He knocks loudly and clearly on the wood and waits three seconds before opening the bedroom door.
And then he stops for a moment on the threshold.
He doesn't know exactly what he was expecting, but the sight throws him off balance for a second.
Maybe it's because it's so harmless and at the same time so damned sexy.
"Hey," his king greets him happily.
"Hey, Ashiya," Urushihara mumbles lazily without taking his head from his crossed arms.
"The girls have gone to bed and we should follow their example," Ashiya informs them in a neutral tone, gives himself an inner kick and closes the door behind him quietly.
Relaxed, as if he was witnessing every day how his half-naked king bends over his equally half-naked general and gives him a back massage, he goes over to a cupboard and puts down the knitting.
He immediately notices their damp hair and the smell of water and shower gel in the air. Without a word, he goes into the adjoining bathroom and returns five seconds later with a hairdryer in hand.