for /y/

PROMPT: Summoner being seduced by a demon he has been repeatedly summoning due to unconsciously having a crush on them.(not a succubus/incubus) bonus points if the demon is actually really shy and only fronting a confident persona because they've been crushing on the summoner mutually.


***

Heithas, half-elf and acolyte mage, sighed dramatically to the empty room. His voice echoing about the circular chamber only adding to his feeling of resignation at the task ahead of him.

Dealing with Baatezu, devils of the Nine Hells, was always a trying chore for the summoner. None the less, his master, the Grand Wizard of the mages college of Waterdeep, demanded such fealty. It is how the apprentice Heithas earned his keep in the tower after all. Without much offensive or defensive magical ability he was all but a liability to his colleagues otherwise.

At that depressing reality, Heithas sighed again.

One white, almost ivory hand playing with the seam of his basic, navy blue robes. He was dressed casually, his position not affording him the luxurious, heavily embroidered robes of the greater mages of the tower. His mousy brown hair was cut short about his face, messy, as if the young acolyte had just woken from a long rest.

He double-checked, triple-checked the summoning circle. Hazel eyes scanning the many chalk-marked runes and magical symbols. It was perfect, it always was. He was confident in his perfectionism that not even a higher devil lord could breach the magical barrier.

Content with his assessment, Heithas stood back and began his chant. Eyes closing, and exhaling deep. His arms worked in precise, calculated motions. Ivory fingers flicking through a number of gestures, matching the runes of the surrounding circle. His navy blue robes billowed out wide at the final, grand gesture of the summoning.

Immediately, pendulous purple smoke began to materialize within the summoning circle. The lamps flanking the room flickered ominously as the sulfurous vapors began to come together in a corporeal form.

Heithas had not called for any particular devil, yet, as with the past two tendays of his summonings, he already recognised the humanoid form that quickly materialized in the room.

Great wings of black feathers forming from the smoke, cast back from the sleek figure of the erinyes. A lesser devil originally from the celestial realm, though cast down to the Nine Hells for their crimes against the righteous deities.

Of all the devils, in all the Nine Hells, every summoning without fail he had somehow against the odds called this one.

Heithas found his breath shallow as the figure fully materialized from the mist.

The devil was tall, almost eight-feet, towering over the acolyte. The erinyes’ skin a ruddy purplish-red, with delicate-looking black horns rising gracefully from his head, almost entirely camouflaged against the devil’s lustrous black hair. The silky strands just brushing the devil’s shoulder, blowing menacingly about his face in an invisible breeze.

He was clad in haphazard, trivial plates of black armor, forged in the fires of the Nine Hells, though he held no weapons. Unusual for the martial strength of the erinyes. Foot soldiers to the greater devil lords.

“Greetings, Heithas.” The devil’s voice came with a rolling, otherworldly ring. Piercing the room and echoing ominously in the thick air between them.

“I-uh, greetings.”

Heithas couldn’t help but stammer his response, feeling his face blush at the familiar smirk. The devil smiled a little wider revealing his sharp, needle like teeth. He shifted gracefully from one foot to another. His lean, muscled figure all but accentuated by the pose.

Heithas knew he did not call the erinyes. Even if he had wanted too was impossible without knowing the devil’s name. The spell was all but a randomized summoning of whatever demon was at beck-and-call at the time. And yet, it seemed, at his beck-and-call this particular baatezu was all but waiting in the Nine Hells for his summons.

It was an unusual notion to say the least. Devils were known for their calculated and strict, if horrifically evil, personal code were hardly interested in the affairs of mortals.

There was a long and pregnant silence.

Heithas couldn’t help but let his hazel eyes settle across the devil’s form, following the clean lines of the erinyes’ chest and abdominals coming down in a deep ‘V’ to his exposed phallus. The organ sitting heavy against his muscled thigh. The mage felt the burning heat rise on his cheeks all the more at the sight.

The devil’s rolling chuckle struck Heithas from his silence. Looking back up to the erinyes’ to see a hungry grin stretched across the alien, yet some how handsome face. Black eyes sparkling in the low light of the room.

“You know why I’m here.” The erinyes pointed tongue came to play at his white incisor.

Heithas wrenched his gaze away from the handsome devil, looking down to his bare feet. He hadn’t even bothered to put on shoes. Toes cold on the dark slate floor.

“I do not.”

The devil chuckled again, taking a few steps forward to place him only two feet from the mage. The magical barrier between them crackled threateningly at the otherworldly humanoid’s proximity.

“Don’t play coy, Heithas.”

Hathies jolted in surprised as the erinyes’ face came to his eye level. The invisibly barrier again crackling, thin bolts of electricity dancing about the devil’s form. The protective magicks stinging about the metallic plates on his shoulders, though he hardly cared, just kept staring into the mortal’s youthful face.

Heithas’ breathing was shallow, he felt himself almost lost in the deep black eyes of the demon. He knew the erinyes had no penchant for enchantment or seduction, and yet he felt himself inexplicitly drawn to the creature. Each time he was summoned, each time Hethias called upon the Nine Hells, he felt his attraction to the devil grow ever stronger.

He reasoned it was some ploy. Some excuse to get into the mage’s tower and cause mischief. To destroy him perhaps for the indignity of the summoning.

The devil’s eyes blinked. A thin, translucent layer of membrane moving over his eyes. As if reading Hethias’ mind he responded.

“What reason would I have for destroying you, mortal?”

The voice was a low purr then.

“I… you…”

Hethias could feel himself sweat from under his robes. Hands shaking as he unconsciously looked down over the devil’s body, muscles twitching ever so slightly. Suddenly, remembering his purpose, he looked up indignantly with narrowed hazel eyes.

“What is your name?”

The devil cocked his head, black hair falling over one armored shoulder. Wings stretching as if in response.

“Xethil.”

Hethias shifted, bringing himself one step closer to the magical barrier.

It would only take a single smudge of the chalk of the summoning circle to let free the erinyes, ‘Xethil’. Though with the creatures name he had the ultimate power over him; with but a single phrase he could send the devil back to his home plane.

With that reassuring notion, the young mage took a slow, steadying breath. Without stopping to contemplate the wisdom of the move any longer, he pushed one barefoot over to smudge aside a rune.

And all of a sudden, the angry crackling of the barrier was gone. Replaced by a rippling and overwhelming heat that emanated from the devil Xethil.

He chuckled, the sound all the more alien in Heithas’ ears.

The devil’s free hand came forward, holding Heithas’ jaw firmly, black, pointed fingers running over the mage’s delicate, ivory skin.

“Oh mageling, I have been waiting for this… so very long...”

He savored the wide-eyed look from the mortal for a moment.

Lunging forward he captured the surprised man’s lips in his own. Xethil all but consumed the mewl-come-moan of the mage through lips, though he did not move against him further.

The devil prying the mage’s mouth open deftly to let their tongues meet hungrily, still holding Heithas’s jaw firmly in one hand. Heithas let his fists unclench (a move he hadn’t even realized until now), relaxing into the kiss, trying to meet the devil’s advances with equal force.

Heithas, suddenly realizing himself then, grasped with both hands at the devil’s bare chest. Xethil growled angrily at the touch, feathered wings giving a sweeping ‘flap’,  as he bit down hard against the mortals lips.

Heithas broke the kiss with a pained yelp, stumbling backward into the cold stone of the wall. He brought one hand up to the cut on his face. Metallic taste lingering on his still, tingling lips.

Heithas stared, wide-eyed into the clever creature’s black eyes, sparkling like pool’s of ichor in the soft lamplight of the room.

A thin vertical tear now crossed the left side of the mortal’s lips, blood trickling slowly down his chin before pat’ing onto the floor between them. Xethil stalked forward, stretching his wings and enjoying the feel of the warm air of the mortal world. The devil’s slender, pointed tongue came forward and licked the blood away, not breaking eye contact with the mage. Eerily still.

There was a silent consideration for a moment before Heithas came forward, hungrily seeking out the devil’s unnaturally hot mouth. Xethil countered for a moment, then bringing his hands down and around the mage, one gripping hard at his rump and the other grasping firmly at the full hardness in Heithas’s basic robes. The mage groaned and pulled back again, eyes closed with a flicker of his long eyelashes as he took in the strong grasp of the devil.

His hazel eyes shot open as Xethil whipped him up and back, sending him crashing into cold stone wall, the devil now nipping gently at soft ivory skin at Heithas’s neck.

A low and terrible whisper rang forward, breath burning over the half-elf’s pointed ear

“More?”, the mage could only gasp at the insistence of the hand that deftly parted the cloth of his robes. Heithas, gaining resolve, moaned hoarsely, the mouth of the devil coming up to lick gently around the lobe of his sensitive pointed ear.

He felt the wicked grin of the devil against his neck, then a firm yank of fabric as his robes were all but torn from his lower half. Xethil did not spare a look to the mage, though he knew the half-elf was rapt in pleasure.

The devil, all of a sudden, hitched the mage up with unnatural strength, the mortals legs now wrapped around his shoulders, manhood fully displayed at Xethil’s eye level.

Heithas groaned in shock at the speed of the transition, Xethil’s mouth taking his manhood in entirely, almost burning on him.

The mage looked down at the devil, ink-black hair stuck messily about his face and neck, as he gently licked the tip of the mage to bring forth a glistening droplet from it’s tip. Needle like teeth so teasingly close to the sensitive skin.

Heithas shuddered, the devil grinned at the mortal’s response, then hungrily taking the mage’s shaft down again, this time in a fast rhythm.

Heithas had taken part in this act before, a few times with the other, female apprentices in the tower, though this… this felt totally different. The speed and hunger in which the devil acted, the burning saliva, and his low moans struck some deep and unknown chord with Heithas which revealed itself only as a frenzied yell.

Xethil took the opportunity to grasp the mortal’s rump again, pointed fingertips drawing thin lines of blood, bringing the mage even deeper down his throat. He chuckled internally at Heithas as the mage hissed a desperate curse.

The devil’s reddish hands stroked broadly along the under side of the Heithas’s thighs, massaging the muscles there before dipping up into the crevice between the mage’s leg.

Heithas gasped, feeling the devil’s fingers enter him, at a loss as to the purpose of such an invasive act. His confusion and hesitation completely dissolved a few moments later, as the fingers worked deftly, stimulating him from the inside in such a way the mage didn’t even know was possible.

Xethil worked hungrily, savoring the Heithas’ initial shock then appreciative moans, the mage absolutely prone on top of him now, clutching desperately at the erinyes’ horns. The devil increased his pace to a crescendo, pulling back from the mage, and looking directly into his hazel eyes giving one last lick to the head of his manhood.

Heithas lost himself in that moment, the sensation of the Xethil’ fingers inside him, his warm mouth and that final look of pure lust pushing him over the edge. He buckled with a yell, spilling his seed into the devil’s mouth and down his chin. The white seed casting a stark contrast against the reddish-hue of his skin.

The soft lamplight flickered across the room innocently as Xethil’ retracted from the dazed young mage lowering him back to the ground.

Hethias’ back still glued to the wall, hazel eyes closed as he attempted to calm his breathing to a regulated pace.

Xethil pulled back his wild black hair, brushing the locks over his left shoulder. He watched as the mortal opened his eyes slowly, letting himself push away from the wall to regard Xethil. Navy blue robes torn haphazardly about him.

Heithas said nothing, though let his gaze wander from the devil’s bare reddish feet up to thick, dripping phallus, then up to the devil’s amused expression.

“Satiated, mageling?” Xethil gave crooked smile, bringing a hand up to wipe whatever stray liquid lingered on his chin.

Heithas did not respond, his words still lost in him.

Instead he came forward to capture the devil in a kiss, tasting himself on his tongue, mixed with the reddish tang of blood from the cut Xethil had inflicted earlier. Heithas felt the devil’s dark chuckle behind the movement, pulling back suddenly.

Heithas stepped forward, he was in too deep now, his curiosity too strong. His mind was empty of whatever experiences he had in the past, not one of those other women, mortals, could hold a candle to what he was experiencing now.

Resolute, Heithas breached the distance between them, deftly moving to grasp the devil’s heavy phallus. The organ heavy in his palm. Xethil let him complete the movement, kissing and nipping gently at the underside of the mage’s jaw and ripping away the last of the mortal’s robes.

Xethil felt the mage grow hard against him again, feeling his own urgency grow to desperate levels. The devil growled and pushed the mage a few paces back and into the middle of the summoning circle, against the rough slate of the floor. Ivory skin covered in goose pimples as the mortal let out a violent shudder.

The devil loomed above him them, drinking in the creature prone below him. Xethil reached forward and gently pushed the disheveled brown hair away from Heithas’ damp brow.

Heithas was surprised at the tender gesture, though the tone of the act immediately dissipating as the devil came to kneel between his legs coming down slowly to meet Heithas’ gaze fully.

The mage felt the sharp, pointed fingers of the devil grasp at his hips and shifting him into a optimal position. Heithas’ lower back lifted entirely from the ground, the devil rubbing the moistened tip of his manhood teasingly between his legs.

Xethil seemed to hesitate… before a wicked smile cut across his face and he thrust forward, suddenly entering the unsuspecting Heithas.

Heithas mewled and twisted in pain at the unexpected movement. The devil’s phallus was thick, so thick, the feeling of the violent thrust all but ripping him apart.

And then, all of a sudden, the pain was gone, replaced by waves of pleasure mixed with a dull burn. The sensation overwhelmed him.

The devil’s thrusts were tempered and controlled, though his face held an expression of reckless abandon. Heithas met each thrust willingly, dropping his one leg to grapple around Xethil’ hips bringing him even closer and deeper.

Xethil growled low in appreciation at the movement. He reached forward to twist at the mage’s mop of sweat-drenched hair, bringing him upward, off the ground entirely to press their chests together.

The devil beginning to lose the edge of control over his movements, increasing the pace he entered the half-elf, growling animalistically into the crook of Heithas’s neck and biting the sweet flesh there.

Heithas felt his own blood course down his chest from the deep wound in his shoulder, though did not care. He felt himself tremble one last time. The devil’s manhood deep within him, the burn of his hands on his hips, the pain from his shoulder. Heithas gasped hoarsely as he came unaided. Cock twitching wildly as the orgasm struck over him, bolts of electricity coursing up his spine.

He felt Xethil’s own orgasm oncoming, the devil’s thick manhood twitching angrily inside him. The devil’s black wings flexing wide as the oncoming wave of release.

Though he did not get the chance. Heithas, grabbed both the devil’s horns, staring down at him.

“Begone, Xethil.”

And suddenly the devil, black eyes wide in surprise, became less than corporeal. Form melting into purple and black smoke. Xethil screamed as he thrust the mageling away with what little strength he had left in the mortal realm.

Heithas gasped as he was launched back painfully on the slate floor. Looking up, all that was left of the devil was a retreating and echoing growl.

Then silence.

Heithas exhaled heavily. He came up shakily to elbows, naked, in the middle of the summoning circle. Robes ripped chaotically about the room. Seed cooling on his belly.

And smiled.

***