Chapter 10: The Eternal Feast
The heavy doors of the Eternal Feast Hall groaned shut behind them, sealing out the world. The silence here was different from the car—a vast, expectant quiet broken only by the crackle of distant torches. Reese’s bare feet whispered on cold stone. He felt raw, hollowed out and buzzing, the e-stim sound still a persistent, humming presence in his cock. He watched Roman’s back. The demon walked stiffly, each step careful. The aftermath of his triple ruin was written in the tension of his shoulders.
Roman didn’t speak until they reached the grand table. It was a monolith of dark wood, scarred and stained by centuries. He turned, his face a mask of recovered composure, but his eyes were dark pits of simmering, fragile rage.
“On the table,” Roman said, his voice flat.
Reese lifted a brow, the defiance returning now that they were static. “Ordering again? So soon after you fell apart?”
A muscle twitched in Roman’s jaw. He didn’t repeat himself. He simply reached out, his hand flashing with a quick, brutal grip on Reese’s arm, and hurled him backwards. Reese’s spine hit the solid wood with a thud that knocked the air from his lungs. Before he could scramble up, Roman was on him, heavy, pinning him with a knee between his thighs. He grabbed Reese’s wrists, yanking them above his head. Shadows coiled from Roman’s free hand, thick and tangible, wrapping around Reese’s wrists like cold, living manacles, binding them to the table’s edge.
“You had your moment,” Roman whispered, his breath hot against Reese’s throat. “My turn.”
He stepped back, surveying his work. Reese lay spread-eagled on the dark wood, vulnerable, his body a pale contrast against the rich grain. His stomach, still rounded and hard with the enchanted eggs, rose in a taut curve. His cock, with the glint of metal at its tip, lay stiff against his belly.
Roman’s own stomach, swollen with the lingering enema, gave a low, liquid gurgle. He ignored it, focusing on the power thrumming in the hall’s ancient stones. He raised his hands.
The air above the table shimmered. Reality warped, and a feast began to manifest not on the table, but for it. For Reese.
A single, perfect oyster appeared in Roman’s palm, glistening in its shell. He leaned over Reese. “Open.”
Reese glared, but parted his lips. Roman didn’t simply place it on his tongue. He tipped the shell, letting the slick, cold creature slide out. It was alive, pulsing with a low, aquatic magic. It slipped past Reese’s teeth, and the moment it touched his tongue, a shuddering moan was punched out of him. The oyster wasn’t just food. It was a shock of sensation, a jolt of pure, oceanic need that fizzed along his nerves, concentrating in his gut and groin. He swallowed convulsively, and the feeling spread, a warm, dizzying ripple.
“More,” Reese gasped, his hips shifting uselessly.
Roman conjured another. And another. He fed them to Reese in a steady, relentless procession. Each one drew a louder, more desperate sound from the incubus. Reese’s body began to arch off the table, not in resistance, but in hungry supplication. His cock leaked profusely around the sound, pre-cum beading and dripping onto his taut stomach. The eggs inside him seemed to warm, humming in response to the magical influx.
“Please,” Reese begged, his head thrashing side to side. “Roman, fuck, it’s too much.”
“It’s not enough.” Roman traded the oyster shell for a goblet that appeared from the same ether. The liquid inside was black, with ruby depths that caught the firelight. He didn’t give Reese time to prepare. He gripped his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and poured.
The wine wasn’t like the cheap stuff from the car. This was ancient, distilled essence. It hit Reese’s throat like swallowed lava, burning a path of searing, exquisite pain down to his stomach. It pooled there, a new, hot weight atop the eggs and oysters, a simmering crucible of sensation. Reese choked, tears springing to his eyes as the fire spread through his veins, making every inch of his skin feel hypersensitive, prickling with awareness.
Roman’s hand, calloused and warm, smoothed over Reese’s trembling belly, feeling the distended, packed curve. “So full,” he mused, his thumb circling Reese’s navel. “But we’re just getting started.”
Next came the fruit. A cluster of small, violet berries, their skins gleaming with a sheen like sweat. Roman plucked one, holding it before Reese’s dazed eyes. “These are called Heart’s Need. One will make you hard for an hour.” He popped it into Reese’s mouth. “You’re getting the whole cluster.”
Reese crushed the berry with his teeth. The flavor was overwhelmingly sweet, cloying, followed by an immediate, medicinal heat that shot straight to his cock. It was as if a hand had fisted him, squeezing and stroking. He cried out, his shaft jumping violently against his stomach, the trapped sound within it feeling suddenly hotter, tighter. Roman fed him another berry. And another.
With each one, Reese’s erection grew harder, more agonizingly solid. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a frantic, pounding drum of need. The sound inside felt less like an intrusion and more like the only thing containing a pressurized explosion. His balls drew up tight and aching.
Roman watched, a cruel smile touching his lips. He trailed his fingers down from Reese’s navel, through the mess of pre-cum, until he reached the base of the sound. He flicked the metal.
A bright, electric jolt of pure sensation, amplified tenfold by the berries, rocketed through Reese. He screamed, his body bowing off the table, the shadow-manacles cutting into his wrists.
“Sensitive, isn’t it?” Roman murmured. He wrapped his whole hand around Reese’s imprisoned cock, squeezing just to feel the hard column of flesh strain against the metal core. Reese sobbed, bucking into the touch, desperate for friction that wouldn’t come, that couldn’t come with the sound blocking his release.
Roman was painfully hard himself. His own cock, reddened and supremely tender from its earlier abuse, stood stiff against the fabric of his pants. Every beat of his heart sent a pulse of aching sensitivity through it. The swollen, liquid-heavy weight in his belly pulled at him, a constant, low reminder of his own fullness.
He needed to shift the focus. His control depended on it.
He leaned down, his mouth close to Reese’s ear. “Look at you. A fucking banquet all by yourself. Stuffed full of my magic, buzzing with need, and completely helpless.” He punctuated the last word by pinching one of Reese’s nipples, twisting sharply.
Reese whimpered, his eyes clouded with overwhelmed pleasure. “Please… take it out… let me come…”
“No.” Roman straightened. He unfastened his own pants, freeing his aching erection. The cool air was a shock, a painful caress. He gripped himself, hissing at the sensitivity, and gave a single, slow stroke. It was almost too much. His stomach sloshed.
He needed Reese to feel more. He needed to dominate this space, this moment.
He climbed onto the table, knees straddling Reese’s hips. He loomed over the devastated incubus, his own swollen belly hanging down. He guided the head of his cock to Reese’s stretched, slick entrance. The clench of heat from the car was still there, loosened but eager.
“This,” Roman grunted, as he began to push inside, “is for the fucking car.”
The penetration was smoother this time, but no less intense. Reese was so full, so sensitized, that the thick invasion was a blazing brand. He chanted a stream of broken curses and pleas as Roman sank deeper, filling him in a single, relentless thrust until their bodies met—Roman’s wine-distended stomach pressing against Reese’s egg-swollen one.
Roman didn’t move. He just stayed there, seated to the hilt, letting Reese feel the utter completeness of the invasion. He reached down and picked up another Heart’s Need berry from a cluster that had spilled beside them. He pressed it to Reese’s lips.
“Eat.”
Reese, mindless, obeyed. The fresh wave of need-induced hardness made his channel spasm wildly around Roman’s cock. Roman groaned, the tight, rippling pressure almost undoing him. He was so sensitive that the simple, heated clasp was a torment of the highest order.
He began to move. Short, shallow, punishing thrusts that jostled the contents of both their bellies. The sound of liquid sloshing filled the air, a vulgar counterpoint to the slap of skin. Each drive forward shoved Reese’s weighted stomach into the table, making him gasp. Roman’s hand found the e-stim remote, which had been discarded on the wood. He flicked it on, setting it to a low, constant thrum.
The vibration sang through the metal in Reese’s cock, buzzing against Roman’s own shaft from the inside. It was too much. The overstimulation was everywhere.
“I can’t… I’ll break…” Reese screamed, his back arching.
“Then break,” Roman snarled, pistoning his hips faster now, losing his own rhythm to the building, painful tide in his gut and groin. He was fucking on a razor’s edge, every sensation magnified into a bright, white pain-pleasure. The wine in his belly churned. The eggs in Reese’s stomach felt like they were vibrating.
Roman’s orgasm approached, not as a cresting wave, but as a catastrophic internal collapse. It tore through him with a soundless roar, a dry, agonizing seize of his entire body. He spilled into Reese with a series of brutal, grinding pulses, his overspent cock screaming in protest. Beneath him, Reese was shaking violently, his own denied climax a live wire trapped in a cage of steel, sparking and burning through every nerve.
Roman collapsed forward, catching his weight on his hands, his forehead dripping sweat onto Reese’s chest. They were a tangled, filthy mess of magic and overindulgence. The feast around them seemed to pulse in the dim light, a testament to gluttony.
Reese’s eyes were open, staring at the distant, shadowed ceiling. Tears carved clean lines through the sheen on his cheeks. His body twitched with tiny, residual shocks from the e-stim.
Roman, breath ragged, nuzzled into the hollow of Reese’s throat, his voice a shattered, possessive rasp against the incubus’s hammering pulse.
“Mine.”
The word was a ghost of its usual command, ragged and spent against Reese’s skin. The shadows holding Reese’s wrists dissolved into wisps of nothing. Reese’s arms fell to the table with a dull thud, feeling like dead weight. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their uneven breathing in the vast hall.
Reese pushed weakly at Roman’s shoulder. “Get off. You’re crushing me.”
Roman moved, but it was a graceless, heavy shift. He slid from the table, his legs nearly buckling as his feet hit the stone floor. The movement made the viscous plug in his ass shift abruptly, a blunt reminder of the reservoir of wine still trapped inside him. A pained hiss escaped his clenched teeth. He stumbled backward, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on a high-backed, ornate chair nestled in a shadowed alcove.
He didn’t walk to it; he retreated, falling into it with a completeness that spoke of utter defeat. The chair creaked under his weight. The act of sitting drove the plug home, seating it deeper, making the full, sloshing pressure in his lower belly intensify into a sharp, singular demand. He groaned, his head lolling back, eyes squeezing shut.
Reese slid off the table, his own body protesting. The eggs were a heavy, warm presence. The sound in his cock was a distant, annoying buzz he switched off with the remote. He watched Roman for a silent minute, observing the tremor in the demon’s hands where they gripped the chair arms, the sheen of sweat on his throat.
He walked over, his steps quiet. He didn’t say a word. He simply sank to his knees on the cold stone between Roman’s spread legs.
Roman’s eyes flew open. “Don’t.”
“Or what?” Reese’s voice was soft, almost conversational. His hands came to rest on Roman’s thighs. He leaned forward and pressed a single, chaste kiss to the inside of Roman’s knee.
It wasn’t the kiss, but the promise in it that made Roman shudder. Reese’s mouth began a slow, torturous ascent up his inner thigh, lips and the barest hint of tongue grazing oversensitive skin. Roman’s cock, lying spent and tender against his own swollen stomach, gave a feeble, painful twitch.
“Stop,” Roman breathed, the word lacking all conviction.
Reese ignored him. He reached Roman’s groin and bypassed his cock entirely. Instead, he nuzzled into the thatch of dark hair, his breath hot. Then he turned his head and laid his cheek against the distended, round curve of Roman’s lower belly. He could feel the liquid weight of it, hear the faint, internal slosh. He blew a soft stream of air across the tight skin.
Roman jolted as if branded. “Fuck!”
“It’s really in there, isn’t it?” Reese murmured, his words vibrating against Roman’s flesh. He dragged the tip of his nose up the swollen plane, then traced his tongue in a slow, wet circle around Roman’s navel. The sensation was dizzying, too intimate, too much after everything. Roman’s hips gave an involuntary, tiny jerk.
Reese’s hand finally moved. He didn’t grab Roman’s cock. He simply let his fingertips ghost along the length, from root to tip, a feather-light touch that was pure agony. Roman cried out, a broken, ragged sound. His cock was a live nerve, raw from overuse, and even that whisper of contact was a searing brand.
“Please,” Roman gasped, his head pressing hard into the chair back. “Reese, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Reese asked, his mouth now hovering just above the hypersensitive head. He could smell his own spend, the salt of Roman’s sweat, the sour note of overwhelmed flesh. “Don’t touch you?” He lowered his mouth and took just the glistening tip between his lips, applying the faintest suction.
Roman shattered. A full-body tremor seized him, his back arching off the chair. “Stop! Please, stop, it’s too much, I can’t—!”
Reese released him with a wet sound. He looked up, his violet eyes clear and focused. “Do you want the wine out?”
The question hung in the thick air. It wasn’t about relief. It was about surrender. Roman’s jaw worked, his pride warring with the desperate, physical reality of his torment. He tried to muster a glare, to reclaim the space between them with will alone. “You don’t give the orders.”
Reese leaned in again and flicked his tongue across the slit of Roman’s cock.
Control evaporated. A sob ripped from Roman’s throat. “Yes! Fuck, yes, get it out, please, just get it out of me.”
Reese stood, his movements fluid. He took Roman’s hand, pulling him up from the chair. Roman moved like an old man, hunched around his cramping, full belly. They didn’t speak as Reese led him out of the Feast Hall, down a corridor of basalt stone, and into a spacious, modern bathroom of dark tile and chrome.
Reese guided him to stand before the large, open shower area. He turned on the water, letting steam begin to fill the room. Then he turned Roman to face the wall, bracing the demon’s hands against the cool tile.
“Stay,” Reese whispered.
He knelt behind him. His hands settled on Roman’s hips, thumbs digging into the tense muscles of his ass. Roman shuddered, awaiting the inevitable. Reese’s fingers found the base of the obsidian plug. He gripped it, but didn’t pull. He began to work it with a slow, twisting motion, easing it fractionally side to side.
The groan that came from Roman was one of profound, unbearable relief mixed with fresh agony. The stretch was astronomical. Reese kept twisting, his other hand stroking the small of Roman’s back as he gradually, so gradually, began to draw the thick instrument out.
It was a visceral, wet, terrible sound. Roman shook, his forehead pressed to the tile, his breath coming in sharp pants. As more of the slick length emerged, the pressure in his gut mounted to a critical, screaming peak.
Reese moved swiftly then. As the final, bulbous tip of the plug slipped free, he rose and spun Roman around, pushing him to his knees under the now-hot spray of the shower. The release was immediate and violent. A torrent of dark wine gushed from Roman, splashing against the tile floor, swirling down the drain in a crimson-black rush. It was accompanied by a low, guttural moan of pure, physical catharsis from Roman, his body convulsing with the force of the evacuation.
The purge seemed endless, a humiliating, brackish flood that left Roman hollowed and trembling on his knees under the scalding spray. He braced himself against the tile, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, breathing in ragged gulps of steam. The overwhelming pressure was gone, replaced by a trembling, raw emptiness. His cock, shriveled and agonizingly sensitive, hung between his legs like a bruised thing.
Reese watched the last of it swirl away, then turned off the water. The sudden silence was deafening. He grabbed a thick, black towel and roughly dried Roman’s back and shoulders, his touch devoid of its earlier cruelty, becoming something purely functional. Roman didn’t resist, his body pliant with exhaustion.
“Can you stand?” Reese’s voice was flat.
Roman managed a grunt, pushing himself upright. His legs felt insubstantial. Reese slung Roman’s arm over his own narrower shoulders and guided him, step by unsteady step, out of the bathroom, across a hallway, and into the stark, dark-timbered bedroom. The bed was a massive platform of obsidian wood, piled with grey linens. Reese let him fall onto it.
Roman landed on his back, a spent starfish against the dark sheets. The room spun gently. He felt peeled open, every nerve exposed to the cool, still air. Reese stood by the bed, looking down at him. The incubus was a mess—pale skin marked from the table, stomach still round with the stone eggs, his own sounded cock a persistent, angry line against his thigh. The berries’ magic still thrummed in his veins, a relentless itch under his skin.
Without a word, Reese climbed onto the bed. He didn’t mount Roman. Instead, he stretched out alongside him, propped up on one elbow. He just looked, his violet eyes scanning the demon’s ruined form, the sheen on his skin, the pathetic, tender state of his cock.
“Look at you,” Reese whispered, but there was no triumph in it. It was an observation, almost clinical.
His hand came out, fingertips tracing the sharp line of Roman’s hip. Roman flinched. The touch was a brand. Reese’s fingers drifted inward, following the trail of dark hair, until they feathered over the super-sensitive skin of Roman’s inner thigh.
“Don’t,” Roman croaked, but it was a whisper with no force, a reflex.
Reese ignored him. He bent his head and placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss on the hinge of Roman’s hip. Then another, lower. His lips were a faint, warm pressure against skin that felt scraped raw. Roman’s breath hitched. Reese’s mouth began a slow, torturous migration, a trail of barely-there kisses descending toward his groin.
“I’ll skin you alive,” Roman breathed, his hands fisting in the sheets. A tremor ran through him.
Reese’s response was to exhale, a warm, damp cloud over Roman’s flaccid cock. The organ twitched, a painful throb of protest. “You can try later.”
Then Reese took him into his mouth.
It wasn’t a deep, claiming swallow like in the car. It was an impossibly slow, wet, agonizing act of reconstruction. He simply closed his lips around the soft head, his tongue a flat, warm pad beneath it. He sucked, gently, like drawing poison from a wound.
A broken sound escaped Roman. It was too much. It was not enough. The hypersensitivity was a shrieking siren, every minute movement of Reese’s tongue and lips a seismic event in his ruined nervous system. Pleasure wasn’t the right word. It was a devastating, all-consuming stimulation that scraped the inside of his skull.
“Reese… stop… please, fuck…”
Reese hummed, the vibration traveling straight into Roman’s spine. He took him deeper, inch by excruciating inch, his throat working around the tender flesh. His own need was a secondary fire, roaring in the background. The eggs in his belly shifted heavily as he moved, a constant, erotic weight. The sound in his own cock felt like a lightning rod, channeling all the aching tension from the berries into a trapped, furious knot.
He set a rhythm, slow and inexorable. Each suck was a deliberate, milking pull. He used his hand at the base, not to stroke, but to hold, to anchor Roman while his mouth worked its terrible, gentle magic. Roman’s body was a bowstring pulled too tight. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, tracking into his hairline. His threats dissolved into shattered, incoherent pleas.
“I can’t… it hurts… please, no more…”
Reese released him with a slick pop, his own breath coming fast. “You can.” He darted his tongue into the slit, tasting salt and exhaustion. “You will.”
He took him down again, deeper this time, his nose pressing into Roman’s pelvis. The stimulation built, a cresting wave of pure, unadulterated sensation with no release at its end. Roman’s back arched off the bed, a corded line of tension. His climax, when it was ripped from him, was a dry, seizing agony. Nothing came out but a sharp, pained gasp and a full-body convulsion that left him shuddering. Reese held him through it, sucking softly until the tremors subsided, until Roman went boneless, sobbing openly into the crook of his own arm.
Reese didn’t stop. He gentled his mouth, licking along the oversensitive shaft, coaxing, soothing, even as he began the cruel work of building him back up. Roman whimpered, a high, broken sound. “No, no, no, I can’t, it’s not possible…”
“It is,” Reese murmured against his skin. He increased the pressure of his lips, the pace of his tongue. He cupped Roman’s balls, rolling the tender weight in his palm. The second climax built faster, a terrifying inevitability. It was a white-hot wire of pain, a neural lightning strike that tore through Roman with vicious precision. Another dry, wrenching convulsion locked his muscles, his cock jerking pathetically in Reese’s wet, relentless mouth.
This time, when Reese released him, Roman just lay there, utterly destroyed, tears streaming silently. Reese wiped his own mouth, his own body screaming for attention. The eggs felt heavier, hotter. His sounded cock ached. He looked down at the devastated demon.
Roman’s eyes opened. They were not pleading now. They were dark, fathomless pools of pure, undiluted malice. The vulnerability was gone, burned away by the twin fires of humiliation and torturous overstimulation.
“My turn,” Roman slurred, his voice wrecked but dripping with venom.
He didn’t move. He just lifted a hand, his fingers curling. The air in the room thickened, grew cold. A faint, obsidian glow emanated from his palm.
Inside Reese’s stomach, the stone eggs reacted.
They began to grow.
It wasn’t sudden. It was a slow, inexorable expansion, the smooth, enchanted stones swelling against the confines of his gut, pressing outward. A sharp, surprised gasp punched from Reese’s lungs. He clutched his stomach, his eyes widening. The pleasant, full warmth became a stretching pressure, then a dull ache, then a sharp, insistent pain.
“What are you… ah, fuck!” Reese collapsed onto his side, curling instinctively around the distending mass in his belly. The eggs kept growing, swelling like rising dough, filling every inch of available space. They pushed against his diaphragm, making his breath short and ragged. They pressed down on his bladder, a shocking, urgent weight. The stretch was immense, terrifying. His skin pulled taut, shiny and sensitive.
He whimpered, his defiance evaporating under the visceral, mounting pressure. Roman watched, propped on an elbow now, a cruel, satisfied smile touching his lips.
“Too much, little incubus?” Roman’s voice was a ragged whisper. He reached out and placed his palm flat on the dome of Reese’s swollen stomach, now dramatically larger than before. He pressed down, firmly.
A cry of pain and overwhelmed pleasure tore from Reese’s throat. The pressure was astronomical, the eggs shifting massively under the external force. It bordered on agony, a deep, internal stretching that burned. His sounded cock, already trapped and denied, gave a furious throb, leaking a fresh stream of pre-cum onto the sheets.
Roman chuckled, a dark, awful sound. He trailed his fingers down from the crest of Reese’s belly, through the mess of fluid, until he reached the base of the metal sound. He flicked it, once, with a sharp nail.
Zing.
The vibration shot through the metal, a bright, electric spike straight into Reese’s overwhelmed core. He screamed, his body seizing, his overfull stomach a monstrous, sensitive weight he couldn’t escape. He was trembling violently, suspended between unbearable pressure and denied, agonizing pleasure.
Roman leaned close, his breath hot in Reese’s ear. “You filled me with cheap wine and expensive humiliation.” He pressed down on Reese’s stomach again, making him gag. “I’ve filled you with stone. Let’s see which of us breaks first.”