Chapter 11: Divided Devotion
Kazuma shifted between them, a study in controlled avarice. His left hand worked Aqua, two fingers plunging into her dripping pussy with the slick, practiced rhythm of a man checking a coin’s authenticity. His right hand dealt with Megumin, a single finger tracing her needy, aroused entrance before pushing in, encountering a shocking, tight heat. He kissed Aqua, tasting the cheap wine and her own unique sweetness, then turned his head and captured Megumin’s mouth, feeling her gasp against his lips, her small teeth biting her own flesh in nervous anticipation.
“You’re thinking too much,” he muttered against Megumin’s ear, his breath hot. His finger inside her curled slightly.
She jolted, a sharp inhale catching in her throat. “I am not! I am contemplating the… the atmospheric shift in magical pressure—”
“Shut up.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, swallowing her protest. His finger in Aqua pumped harder.
Aqua moaned, a long, languid sound that vibrated through the mattress. Her hips rolled against his hand. “The left one, Kazuma… more with the left one. It’s better.”
“You don’t get to give orders.” But he adjusted the angle, crooking his fingers inside her, knowing exactly where to press. Her back arched off the silk, her blue hair fanning out like a spill of cerulean ink.
Megumin was rigid, every muscle taut as a bowstring. Her mind, usually a riot of incantations and dramatic imagery, was a white blank of sensation. The rough pad of his finger moving inside her, the shocking intimacy of his tongue in her mouth, the smell of him and Aqua and sex—it short-circuited her pride. A small, pathetic whimper escaped her.
Kazuma broke the kiss, looking down at her. Her crimson eye was wide, shimmering with unshed tears and confused wanting. “See?” he said, his voice flat, almost bored. “Not so complicated.”
He withdrew his hands from both of them, wiping them on the sheet. The sudden absence was a physical shock. Aqua made a noise of complaint. Megumin just lay there, exposed and trembling, the cool air of the room hitting her damp skin.
“Turn over, Megumin,” Kazuma said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“W-What? Why?”
“Because I said so. On your stomach.”
Her pride flared, a last dying ember. “I am an archwizard of the Crimson Demon Clan, not some… some plaything to be positioned at your whim!”
Aqua snorted, propping herself up on an elbow. Her large breasts swayed with the movement. “Just do it, you chuunibyo. You wanted in the bed. These are the rules.”
Megumin’s face burned. She looked at Kazuma, at his impassive, expectant face. The memory of the cold rug, of his indifference, was sharper than any blade. Slowly, cheeks flaming, she turned onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow that smelled of Aqua’s perfume. The velvet cover was rough against her nipples.
Kazuma’s weight settled over her, not on her, but between her spread legs. She felt him, hard and insistent, pressing against her rear. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Relax,” he commanded, but it wasn’t gentle.
He pushed in.
It was a blunt, burning stretch that stole her breath. She cried out, the sound muffled by the pillow. It hurt. It was too much. Her fingers clawed at the sheets.
“Kazuma, you idiot, you’ll break her,” Aqua said, but there was a curious, avid look in her eyes as she watched.
“She’s fine.” He bottomed out with a grunt, a full, deep sheathing that made Megumin see stars behind her eyelids. He held there, letting her adjust, or perhaps just savoring the tight, convulsive clench of her around him. Then he began to move.
It was a ruthless, piston-like rhythm, each thrust jolting her body forward on the bed. The initial burn subsided, replaced by a deeper, gathering friction that felt like it was scraping her soul raw. She bit the pillow to keep from making noise, but little choked gasps leaked out with every drive of his hips.
Aqua watched for a moment longer, then she moved. She crawled over, her own need apparent. She positioned herself beside Megumin’s head, her thighs framing the girl’s vision. “The deal,” Aqua murmured, her voice husky. “You know the deal.”
Kazuma didn’t slow his pace. He reached a hand out, tangled it in Aqua’s blue hair, and guided her head down towards his waist. Aqua went willingly, taking him into her mouth with a hungry expertise that made Megumin’s eyes widen. She could see it, could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds.
The duality was madness. Kazuma was buried inside her, fucking her with a detached, mechanical intensity, while Aqua serviced him with eager devotion. Megumin was both participant and spectator, overwhelmed and isolated. A tear tracked from her eye, soaking into the pillow.
Kazuma’s breathing grew ragged. His thrusts lost their measured precision, becoming harder, faster, more desperate. He tugged Aqua’s hair, pulling her off him with a soft pop.
“Get ready,” he growled, the command ambiguous.
Aqua understood. She shifted quickly, laying on her back beside Megumin, her head tilted back, mouth open in expectation. Kazuma pulled out of Megumin with a slick sound that made her flinch. He moved over Aqua in one fluid motion, and with a few brutal, final thrusts, he came.
Megumin, lying spent and aching beside them, turned her head. She saw it. She saw his release hit Aqua’s tongue, saw the goddess’s throat work as she swallowed, a blissful, almost reverent expression on her perfect face. A strange, hollow ache settled in Megumin’s chest, entirely separate from the physical soreness between her legs.
Kazuma collapsed between them, sweat cooling on his skin. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant, hungry creak of the mansion’s timbers.
After a long minute, Aqua licked her lips clean and sighed, a contented, saturated sound. “The pantry better be full of premium steak tomorrow,” she mumbled, already drifting.
Megumin didn’t move. The warmth he left inside her was fading, replaced by a chill. She stared at the gilded ceiling, at the erotic carvings writhing in the shadow play of the dying chandelier light. She had wanted his attention, had ached for it from the cold floor. Now she had it. It tasted like salt, and wine, and emptiness.
Kazuma’s hand flopped out, landing not on Aqua, but on Megumin’s stomach, a casual, heavy weight. “Go to sleep,” he said, his voice already thick with impending unconsciousness. “You’re using up all the air with your dramatic silence.”
The touch, impersonal as it was, was the only anchor in the tumultuous sea of her feelings. She didn’t shrug it off. She lay still, listening as his breathing evened out into sleep, Aqua snoring softly on his other side. The mansion groaned again, a sound like satisfaction. Outside, the fantasy world spun on, indifferent to the small, quiet ruin taking root in the heart of a Crimson Demon archwizard. She closed her eye, but sleep was a long time coming.
She closed her eye, but sleep was a long time coming.
Exhaustion eventually swallowed her whole, a black tide pulling her under into a dreamless void. It was a thick, drugged sleep, the kind that came after too much feeling.
She woke to sounds.
A wet, rhythmic sliding. A soft, choking gasp. The rustle of sheets. Her mind swam up from the depths, disoriented. The room was dark, predawn grey leaching in through the heavy drapes.
Then she recognized the sounds. Her body went rigid.
Turning her head slowly on the pillow, she saw. Aqua was a pale shape in the gloom, curled between Kazuma’s legs. Her head bobbed with a practiced, earnest devotion. Kazuma lay propped on an elbow, watching through half-lidded eyes, his other hand resting possessively on Aqua’s blue hair.
Megumin’s breath caught. Shock, cold and bright, flashed through her veins.
She stared, transfixed by the obscene intimacy of it. The previous night’s violation had been a brutal, confusing transaction. This was something else. This was a ritual, a secret she hadn’t been let in on. Aqua made a satisfied, guttural sound, and Kazuma’s fingers tightened in her hair.
The shock curdled, burning away into something sharper.
It was a familiar, hot coal in her chest—the need to prove herself. She wasn’t just the girl he fucked and dismissed. She was an archwizard. She was useful. Better. She could be better than this useless, crying goddess at this, too.
The logic was mad, but it felt like steel in her soul.
Before she could think, she was moving. Her body ached in places she hadn’t known could ache, a dull reminder of his use of her. She ignored it. She pushed back the silk covers and slid from the bed, the cold air raising gooseflesh on her naked skin.
Aqua paused, pulling off Kazuma with a wet pop. “What are you doing? You’ll let the cold in.”
Megumin didn’t answer. She knelt on the rug, the woven fibers rough against her knees. She forced her way into the space between Kazuma’s thighs, displacing Aqua with a sharp nudge of her shoulder.
“Hey!” Aqua protested.
“Move,” Megumin said, her voice hoarse from sleep and disuse.
She didn’t look at Kazuma’s face. She looked at his cock, thick and glistening with Aqua’s saliva in the grey light. It seemed a foreign object, a weapon she didn’t know how to wield. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She leaned forward and tentatively licked the length of it.
The taste was bitter, salty, uniquely him. It was not pleasant. Aqua watched, a smug, incredulous smirk playing on her lips.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Aqua whispered, a taunt.
Megumin’s pride flared white-hot. She took him into her mouth, copying the motions she’d observed. She gagged instantly, the intrusion hitting the back of her throat. Her eyes watered.
Kazuma let out a low grunt. His hand came down, not gentle, and rested on the back of her head.
“Relax your jaw,” he muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep.
She tried. It was clumsy, mechanical. She focused on the mechanics, on the goal of being better. She pulled back, her tongue flattening against the underside as she went. Then she went lower, past the base, into the coarse hair beneath.
The smell was stronger here, musky and animal. She closed her eye and pressed her face into the hot, heavy sac of his testicles, licking the wrinkled skin. It was utterly degrading.
Aqua laughed, a short, sharp sound. “What are you even doing that for?”
Megumin didn’t know. She just knew she had to commit, to prove her willingness to be of use in this alien, physical battlefield. She served, her motions growing more determined, her mouth working with a frantic, competitive energy against Aqua’s experienced rhythm.
Kazuma’s breathing deepened above them. His hand on her head applied a steady, guiding pressure. He didn’t speak. He just watched the two of them, a goddess and an archwizard, competing for his pleasure on their knees in the dark.
Megumin’s mind detached, floating somewhere near the ornate ceiling. She was a tool. A useful tool. That was all. The hollow ache from before was filled now with a desperate, driving purpose.
She tasted salt and skin, and a bitter victory.