Deal with the Devil

07

Commissioned by Enigmatic.

"Come on, hit me already!"

"I'm, huff, trying," Michael grunted. Mordred opened her mouth and he grunted, "That line is, hah, older than you."

"How'd you know what I was gonna say?" she pouted, swatting aside his sword as Michael came at her again, before dancing out of the way of a second strike, and deflecting a third.

"Predictable."

"I am not!" the blonde turned red as she glared at him, before narrowing her eyes and grinning as she danced out of the way of a quick series of slashes and thrusts. "You're the predictable one! I've got you figured out, mister. You were trying to make me mad and distract me. Well, it's not gonna work!"

Michael chuckled and paused for a moment to catch his breath, only for Mordred to take advantage and come in swinging her much larger, heavier sword, forcing him on the defensive. "Did I say you could rest?!"

Michael was forced to move, dodging back and to the sides, away from the wide, sweeping swings of Mordred's sword. The weapon was far too big for him to block or parry without mana, and that was the condition for this spar. He was supposed to either win or fight to failure, with no mana. It was a battle of endurance he was destined to lose, unless he managed to actually beat Mordred at her own game. Which, quite honestly, wasn't going to happen. Because for as much of a musclehead as she could be at times, swording was the area where she excelled.

Eventually, Michael just ran out of stamina and Mordred caught him with a hit that sent him tumbling to the ground. Standing over him as he panted and sweated shirtless onto the grass, she sighed and allowed her sword to disappear. "You're dead. You and everyone else."

The blonde dropped down to sit in the grass beside him and Michael feebly reached over to lay his hand on her bare thigh, earning a blush from her. "But you did better this time," she continued. "It's just gonna take practice. And a lot more exercise. You need to double your cardio every day."

Michael let out a weak groan and closed his eyes, enjoying the cooler feeling of the grass as his breathing slowly returned to normal. His hand squeezed and rubbed the smooth, muscular thigh beneath it, occasionally making the girl tremble and shift at the attention. Finally, he managed to get out, "Thanks for the help, Mordred. I realize I'm not the best student when it comes to this."

"Nah, you're fine," she grunted. "Everyone starts off kinda crap. And you're a wizard, so it's not like you've been working your entire life at it, like me."

"Mm. You're good," he nodded. "How much longer do you have on your training, before you graduate? Get promoted? However that works."

Mordred shrugged. "A year or two. Three at most. And then, uh…"

Michael opened his eyes, meeting Mordred's as he sent her a warm smile. "And then you can come life with us and serve in your position as my knight."

The blonde glared and looked away. "It's not like I want to or anything, idiot. It, it's just a duty! A sworn oath! That's all!"

"Mhmm," Michael nodded.

"It is!"

"Absolutely," he agreed.

"That's all!"

"I believe you."

"Rrr!" Morgan growled, then got up and stormed off.

Michael lasted until she was just out of earshot before his facade broke and he laughed until his sides hurt. Footsteps from nearby drew his attention to Morgan, who stopped and smiled down at him. "Teasing my daughter again?"

"It's fun. And so easy," he grinned.

"Perhaps for you," she nodded. "Come, apprentice. It's time for today's lessons."

Michael forced himself painfully to his feet, feeling every joint ache. The smell of body odor wafted off of him and he criged. A quick spell had him and his clothes washed and dried, and smelling like a field of fresh, green grass. A second muttered spell eased his aches and pains and let him move without limping.

"So, what's on the agenda for today, master?" he asked, making his way over to where he had left his shirt.

Morgan's blue eyes trailed after him, lingering on Michael's fit form as he bent over to retrieve the shirt. Absently, she answered, "Something more complex, I believe."

I am reaching my limit, she mused, watching the way his muscles flexed. She had watched the entire spar with her daughter—as she had every morning and evening since they had begun training together. It had been a long time since she had seen to her own needs, as a woman. Too long, in fact.

Michael was handsome, kind, and an all around generally nice person. He seemed good with children, or at least childish personalities, as in the case with Runeas and her daughter. If Runeas's bragging was anything to go by, he was growing quite skilled in bed, on top of being dilligent and naturally eager to please, and had the stamina to last for hours. He was also available—both in proximity and willingness. There was just one teensy problem…

His wife.

It wasn't that Runeas wouldn't allow it. No, that was the problem! She would not just allow it, but the devilish woman—literally and figuratively—was actively trying to encourage it. The warnings Morgan had received had been very blunt, direct, and explicit. Allowing herself to be taken by Runeas as a lover—and it would be being taken, not taking the devil—would be the most erotic, sexually thrilling experience of her life.

The crux of the matter then was that eventually, Runeas would conclude her business and move on. She might come by once a year or so for what the current generation were calling a 'booty call,' but the redhead would never commit. Worse, after having someone willing and eager to do nearly any sexual deviancy under the sun, and do it well and enthusiastically, with years and years of skill under her belt even knowing that Runeas spent most of her time sleeping the ages away, other lovers would just fail to measure up to the impossibly high standard the devil set.

But looking at Michael, the man whom that notorious devil had finally settled down with and decided to marry, Morgan allowed herself to think that perhaps, just maybe, Runeas had begun to change. Michael at least didn't seem like the kind of man who would just have his fun and leave, only coming back when it suited him—and she had to believe he had some level of influence over Runeas. Because the truth was, Morgan was getting lonely and she had needs—not just the sexual, but a need for true, deep, intimate interaction with someone. The problem was that the pool of candidates for that was small and growing smaller by the year, it seemed—especially when it came to men.

"Where to?"

Morgan pulled herself from her thoughts and turned away, partially so she would pry her eyes off of Michael, partly to lead him up into the tower for the day's lesson. "The tower. We'll be practicing summoning and sending." A smirk pulled at her lips and she turned to meet his eyes. "I hear you have some experience in this field."

"Haha," Michael looked sheepish as he rubbed at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah. I guess I screwed up pretty big." A soft smile settled on his face and Morgan felt her heart melt, and her sex reminding her of her needs. "But it seems to have worked out in the end. I'm happy with the result."

"Pure luck," Morgan chastised, looking away from the sight. "If it had been almost anyone else, you would be dead, or worse."

"I'm very much aware of that, now," he admitted. Frowning, he asked, "But something has been bugging me for a while now. Why did the book I was using claim Runeas was a succubus? Was that just a mistranslation, or something else?"

"Devils are frequently mistaken by mortals for succubi and incubi. They're beautiful and very sexual in nature, and share many traits in common, including their wings and tails. The biggest difference, just looking at them, is the shape of the wings and tail and the sheer, overwhelming beauty of a succubus or incubus. If you ever got one in a room with a devil, you'd never mistake one for the other—it would be immediately obvious which was which. Runeas is, admittedly, a beautiful, charming, and seductive woman. It would be reasonable for anyone who doesn't actually know the difference to mistake her for a succubus. In fact, that mistake is so easy to make because many devils these days have succubi or incubi blood, due to interbreeding. Succubi and incubi were prized and sought after as mates and, after the Evil Piece system was developed, as peerage members. They've been hunted almost to extinction because of it."

Sighing, she added, "That is why I'm having such a difficult time fulfilling Runeas's request. My magical attempts at scrying and divination have determined that there are at least a few left who haven't been converted, but that number is barely in the double digits. Actually finding one is proving quite vexing however, as they've learned to hide themselves from such methods."

"Why does she…?" Michael began, only to roll his eyes and sigh. "Never mind. I think I know the answer."

Morgan giggled. "It is fairly obvious. Now, tell me apprentice, what do you know of the Nasu method of summoning, binding, and empowering familiars?"

"Nothing. Never heard of it. I tried the Emyrs method with Runeas."

"I would be surprised if you had. I came across it in my studies of east Asian magical systems…"

Morgan chuckled softly as Runeas and Michael flirted across from her, the pair feeding each other food off of their plates while she and Mordred looked on. Her daughter, finally having had enough, scooped up a heaping forkful and glared at Michael.

"Michael!"

"What's up?" he asked, turning to regard the blonde on his other side, only for her to thrust the fork at his face more like her sword than any eating utensil. The results were about as expected, as she launched a forkful of chicken pot pie to splat against Michael's cheek before falling down to the ground. One of Morgan's Mirror Images sighed and bent down to clean it up.

"Pffft bahahaha~!" Runeas burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as she kicked her legs beneath the table.

Mordred blushed and made to stand, only for Michael to capture her hand and hold her in place, making her daughter squirm uncomfortably. Reaching up with his napkin, he wiped his cheek off and smiled. "Would you like to try that again? Maybe a smaller bite this time and a little slower?"

Mordred looked absolutely mortified as she hesitantly did just that. Michael accepted and offered Mordred his own fork. That seemed to be all Mordred could take as she jerked her hand away and fled with a wordless cry of frustration. Runeas only laughed harder, her face and neck turning red as she wheezed, pounding the table.

Michael reached out and patted Runeas's back, before pulling her head away from the table. "Careful, wife. You don't want to end up face first in your plate."

"She's so precious~!" Runeas squealed as soon as she got her breath back.

And as she watched on, Morgan came to a decision as the last of her hesitation snapped. She took a moment to wipe her lips before pushing back from the table. "Well, if you'll both excuse me, I believe I'm going to turn in early."

Runeas turned those knowing, amethyst eyes on her, before a playful grin crossed her ruby lips. "If you're taking a bath, I could join! It'll be fun~!"

"Perhaps later. Good night."

Runeas blinked as Morgan turned away, her mirror images moving to start cleaning things up. Beside her, Michael called, "Good night, master."

"That wasn't a no! I'm wearing her down, Michael!"

The door to the small dining room closed behind her and Morgan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Her insides fluttered as a thrill of nervous excitement ran through her, the sound of her shoes clicking off the stone walls as the hurried towards her chambers, turning her mind towards what she needed to do to prepare for the night. Once in her chambers, more mirror images spawned, one going to run the bath and another to take care of picking out her clothes. She undressed and sat on the edge of her bed for a few moments, until her mirror image from the bathroom let her know the water was finished. She made a third and sent it out of the room with the intent of letting her know when Michael and Runeas went to bed, then went for a soak—her other two mirror images gathering her soaps, shampoo, and scented oils to help scrub her down and get her ready.

Once she was done scrubbing, Morgan lay back and closed her eyes, relaxing as one of her mirror images began to comb and dry her hair. As she lay there, her hands wandered under the water as she thought back to earlier in the day, seeing Michael and Mordred sparring. Her hands cupped her breasts and she sighed, thumbs and fingers teasing her nipples to attention as she imagined Michael's lips and tongue on them. One hand slipped down, over her belly, to the juncture of her legs and began to tease her magically bare, puffy folds.

"Don't spoil your appetite," the copy combing her hair teased, and Morgan huffed in annoyance.

Her voice was breathy as she answered, "I won't. I'm just getting ready."

The copy leaned forward, soft, plump lips brushing Morgan's ear as her hot breath spilled over the flesh and blood woman in the tub. Morgan's muscles tightened and she swallowed thickly as a hot tongue rolled over and inside her ear. A slender arm reached over her body and dipped into the water, pushing aside Morgan's own and beginning to vigorously tease Morgan in a way that quickly had her panting.

That was the 'problem' with the mirror image spell. One of a few. They were all exact copies of her, who knew they were copies—but they were just as sentient and willful as their creator. If she wanted sex, she knew herself best, so any interest in it she had came from the fact that it would be with someone different and the intimacy and emotional attachment that came with it—something her copies couldn't exactly give her.

Morgan's back arched and the water sloshed in the tub as the copy dug two fingers into her and found just the right spot to make her toes curl. The mirror image giggled, her lips finding Morgan's in a brief kiss, before pulling away entirely—including her hand. "Time to get out."

The silver haired woman panted, opening her blue eyes and glaring at the copy, who merely smiled smugly back down at her. Making a frustrated sound, she got out and held out her arms as the copy toweled her dry. In her bedroom, she found only a sheer, white silk robe waiting for her and quickly pulled it on. Then came the wait.

Frustrated, she grabbed a book, only to yelp as her copy pushed her down onto the bed. "Go ahead and read. I'll keep you warmed up," the copy leered down at her, before spreading Morgan's legs and kneeling between them. Morgan sighed, her body shaking as the copy began to kiss, lick, and suck at her lower lips and clit. She felt the effects of a spell as her lower body tingled, and then the clone's tongue rolled over her ass, making her hips jerk as fingers joined lips and tongue.

Cracking open the book, Morgan tried to read, but it was an impossible task, so she let the book fall to the side and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations of taking care of herself. Frustratingly, her copy knew exactly what she wanted in this case, so any time she got even remotely close to orgasm, the mirror image backed off and eased her down, before continuing—edging her over the course of, by the clock beside her bed, the next hour and a half until the bedroom door finally opened.

"They've finished their bath and retired to bed."

"Finally!" Morgan grunted, sitting up as the mirror image between her legs disappeared. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she hurried down the hall to the rooms she had assigned to Runeas and Michael. Pausing at the door, the took a moment to take a breath and regain her composure, before calmly knocking.

Michael yawned as Runeas shifted against his chest in the water, the short, curvy woman clinging to him tightly as they soaked. "The water's starting to get cold. You ready to go to bed, wife?"

"Mm, I love it when you call me that, husband," she sighed, planting a kiss on his chest. Her amethyst eyes cracked open and stared into Michael's green as a mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Let's go make a baby!"

"Heh," Michael chuckled as they got out and began drying off. That was Runeas's goal every night really, and something Michael was happy to try. But he knew that while the trying was fun, Runeas would be much happier if they moved from trying to doing and she actually got pregnant.

I'll have to speak with Morgan about it. See if she has any ideas or resources I can look at to try to make some kind of guaranteed conception spell. I know for a fact that there are plenty of contraception spells out there. Surely someone has invented one that goes the other way before. Something I can modify for use with a devil, or which might just work generally…

Runeas dropped her towel and grabbed Michael by the hand, leading him out of the bathroom naked as he tried to keep from losing his own towel. By now, he knew it was pointless to try to explain to his wife that it was rude to just walk around someone else's home naked, so his best bet was hurrying her through the hall so she wasn't spotted.

He caught sight of Morgan, or one of her mirror images nearby and sighed as his master sent him an amused smile, before turning and walking the other way. So much for trying to be discrete.

They made it to the bedroom and Runeas was on him in a flash, barely waiting for him to shut the door before she jerked his towel off and leapt into his arms, forcing him to carry her as she wrapped herself around his body and smashed her lips to his, mauling his mouth with her own as quiet, lewd little giggles escaped her lips. Her pussy was hot and wet against his rapidly hardening member as his wife ground herself into him, her hands coming up and running through his hair as Michael cupped and squeezed Runeas's firm ass while carrying her to bed.

She let him go and dropped onto the bed. Holding up a hand, Runeas sent him a naughty look as she smirked. Her body began to change then, shifting as she grew slightly taller and slimmer, not quite as curvy. Her hair brightened and her eyes shifted from amethyst to bright blue, while her face changed, growing a bit sharper and narrower. After only a moment, Rias stared seductively up at him.

Her entire demeanor shifted, then—from the confident seductress that was his wife, to the unsure, even bashful, but enthusiastic and excited expression he most often saw on Rias's face. If Michael hadn't watched her change in front of him, he would have thought Rias had come for a visit and snuck into their room. Slowly, hesitantly, the redhead spread her legs, looking up at him through dark lashes as she reached down and teased her slit, spreading her small pussy lips.

"I'm so glad you got me out of that engagement to Riser, Michael. I was so unhappy," Rias—Runeas, he had to remind himself—murmured, looking up at him with such a look of earnest gratitude that it almost hurt to look at. "Now there's nothing stopping us from being together. Grandmother even okayed our marriage! So," she bit her bottom lip and Michael's cock throbbed, briefly drawing the redhead's eye, "would you… would you take my virginity, Michael?"

Michael moved before he could even fully process the words, joining her on the bed and kissing her, to a familiar excited squeal from 'Rias.' Then, he was settling into place on top of her as she stated up at him with wide eyes, looking at once frightened but excited. "Please be gentle?"

Leaning down, Michael nipped at her ear. "I'm going to spank you later, wife. You shouldn't wear someone else's face without their permission."

"Please, punish me if you can!" Runeas giggled, kissing his neck, her voice sounding like herself in his ear. "It's just a bit of harmless fun, husband. I assure you, Rias wouldn't mind. Now! Stop breaking character and play along! I need you to," her voice shifting back to Rias's tones, "please make a woman out of me~. Your woman."

"Lots of spankings," Michael growled, before taking a breath and trying to play along. She was right, really. Knowing what he did of Rias, the girl would probably think it was hot and want to join in, so there would be two of her. And, if he was being honest, the idea appealed to him. Devils were natural shapeshifters, some to a greater degree than others, and if his wife enjoyed doing things like this and he enjoyed it… was it really wrong to indulge them both?

Pulling back a bit, he stared down into Rias's eyes, sending him that vulnerable, hopeful look. "Rias," he said, and for just a moment he was looking at his wife again as she grinned and nodded encouragingly, before her attitude changed back to that of Rias, "of course I will—"

A knock at the door caused both of them to pause. They exchanged confused looks. The only other people in the castle were Morgan and Mordred. Mordred might join them, and had repeatedly since Michael first pushed her down, but… the brash blonde didn't knock. She'd throw open the door, storm in, and slam it behind herself like she owned the place—which, considering it was her home, was fair but not exactly the proper way to deal with guests in one's home. She knew she had a standing invitation to join though, so neither he nor Runeas minded. That kind of narrowed down the possibilities as to who could be knocking at this hour.

"I'll see what she wants," Michael sighed, pecking Runeas/Rias on the lips and rolling off of her, to a pout from the girl.

"It'd better be good," his wife grumbled, sitting up on the bed as Michael pulled on a pair of boxers and made his way over to the door.

Michael opened the door, pausing only briefly as he took in Morgan's form—her silk robe so sheer he could make out every detail of her body beneath it. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, if in a cold sort of way given the way she kept her emotions tightly in check most of the time. "Master. Is something wrong?"

Morgan shook her head. "Not wrong, per se. I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, Michael," she said, and her use of his name instead of his title changed the tone of this visit for him, implying it was more personal than professional. "May I come in? I wish to speak with you both."

Confused, Michael stepped aside and held the door open. "Sure," he waved her in.

"Thank you," Morgan nodded, stepping inside. She paused only briefly upon spying Runeas wearing Rias's body, before a quiet, "Ah," escaped her lips, followed by a chuckle. "It seems I've interrupted something fun. I apologize."

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Wearing that more than makes up for it," Runeas dismissed her concerns as she blatantly eyed Morgan up. "Get on with it though! I'd like to get back to getting deflowered as my granddaughter, you know!"

Morgan smiled, making her way over to the chair for the writing desk in the corner and pulling it out. Taking a seat, she regarded them both as Michael sat down beside his wife, who had shamelessly refused to cover herself. Morgan opened her mouth to begin, only for words to fail her. Ruefully, she closed her mouth with a click of teeth and a quiet sigh as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

"This is… difficult for me," she murmured. "I have never truly made myself vulnerable like this before, you see. Even my arrangement with Mordred's father was just that, an arrangement. A transaction. A trade of services rendered to provide myself with an heir. As the Morgan, there are expectations that come with my position, due to our deal," she gestured to Runeas, who nodded.

"I had to produce not just an heir, but a magically powerful one, to ensure our line continues and that there will always be a Morgan. Not just an heir, but spares, in case something happens with Mordred. The problem is, that narrows the pool of candidates for a potential partner considerably. For instance, it takes normal, non-magical humans completely off the table, for fear of diluting the bloodline. Likewise, as are most liminal beings off limits, unless they're more than fifty percent human. Unfortunately, the community I can reasonably select from is relatively small and I had yet to find someone who was both magically potent and not completely unbearable to be around for longer than it took to produce an heir. I—"

"Morgan." The blonde woman fell silent at Runeas's voice. Smiling, the redhead asked, "Do you want to sleep with my husband or not?"

"Very much so," Morgan admitted, sending Michael a hopeful look. "If he'll have me."

"I'd like that," Michael sent her a smile in answer and Morgan nodded, before shifting her attention back to Runeas.

"My only problem is that I fear you'll break me. Ruin me for anyone else and cast me aside when you get bored. I'm not asking for marriage, but I don't want something that will only last a moment in our lives but will color mine for the rest of my days. I know you sleep through the ages and that can put a damper on any sort of long term arrangement."

Runeas hummed quietly, turning her temporarily blue eyes on her husband as a soft smile pulled her lips up. "No, I think I've slept enough for one lifetime. I don't think Michael would let me get away with it."

"Not a chance," Michael shook his head, reaching over and squeezing Runeas's hand for a moment, before standing up. Morgan licked suddenly dry lips as he approached, accepting his hand when he offered it and allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. His other hand caressed her face, Morgan leaning into the touch as his thumb rubbed over her cheek and tilted her head up. She sighed softly, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her—softly, tenderly, as his other hand stroked down her back to rest on her ass, squeezing it possessively.

When they broke the kiss and Michael led Morgan to their bed, they found Runeas had returned to her normal form and was sitting on her knees, bouncing in place with an excited look as she hungrily stared at her husband and their soon-to-be new lover. "Finally! Ahh, I can't wait to see what kinds of faces she makes~! If there is a Morgan, I must lewd her!"

Shaking his head, Michael paused, turning Morgan to face him just before the bed. "If we're going to do this, I'd like to know your name. Your actual name, not just a title."

Morgan smiled up at him through dark lashes. "Vivian. But Morgan is fine too. It's also part of who I am."

Michael nodded, giving her a brief squeeze, before gesturing to the bed. "Come to bed with us, Vivian."

The woman's normally cool countenance cracked as her cheeks pinked. "I will, Michael," she murmured. "But first," she reached down and grabbed the belt around her waist. Untying it, Morgan allowed the robe to fall to the ground with a whisper of silk on skin. She turned and crawled onto the bed, straight into Runeas's waiting and eager arms, pulled tight against the devil's chest as their breasts mashed together.

Runeas was on her in a heartbeat, the devilish woman's lips claiming Morgan's hungrily, violently even as her tongue delved into Morgan's mouth. Runeas's hands roamed over Morgan's body—down her back, over her sides, squeezing her hips and ass, before coming up and practically mauling Morgan's tits between them. Michael joined them and Runeas rolled them onto their sides, so Michael could spoon up behind Morgan.

The magician sighed contentedly as she found herself sandwiched between Runeas's soft body and demanding lips and hands, and Michael's hard body, his own attention for her patient, slow, gentle, and affectionate. Caught between the dichotomy, she found herself temporarily at a loss, completely on the defensive and only able to respond as Runeas and Michael took their turns kissing her while their hands explored her body. Feeling herself trembling in excitement, Morgan allowed herself to be swept away in the moment and just enjoy it for a while. They had the whole night for her to shift the tables and show the other two just what she could do…