Chapter 6: The Imp's Claim
The echo of Samantha’s sputtered outrage still buzzed in Cedric’s ears, a discordant counterpoint to the deep, humming satisfaction flowing through his bond with Vexia. He walked beside her, or rather, a half-step behind her, through the vaulted corridors of Lachrim Arcanum. Students gave them a wide berth, their glances a mixture of awe, confusion, and outright fear. The imp’s heels clicked a definitive rhythm on the flagstones, a sound that seemed to dictate the pace of Cedric’s own heartbeat.
Back in his dormitory, the lingering adrenaline bled away, leaving a hollow, shaky fatigue.The room felt smaller, the clutter more oppressive. The smoky, cinnamon scent that was uniquely Vexia’s had seeped into the very fabric of the space, marking it as hers as much as his. He moved to his desk on autopilot, picking up a quill, trying to anchor himself in the mundane scratch of notes on parchment. Theories of mana-channel reciprocity.The ethical doctrines of the Order. Words that felt like ash in his mouth.
He managed three sentences before her voice cut through the quiet, not loud, but absolute, a blade slicing through cobwebs.
“Crawl to me.”
The command was a physical pull in his gut, a twitch in his muscles that pre-empted thought. The quill fell from his fingers, splattering ink across the parchment. His chair scraped back as he stood, his wide hazel eyes finding her where she sat perched on the edge of his narrow bed. The moonlight through the half-drawn curtains caught the crimson of her skin, the sharp curve of her horns, the knowing amusement in her amber gaze.His knees hit the worn floorboards with a soft thud. The submission was not theatrical; it was cellular. He moved forward, the rough texture of the rug scraping his palms, the distance to the bed feeling both infinite and insignificant. His world narrowed to the space between her stylish, knee-high boots, planted firmly on the floor, and the shadowed cleft of her thighs where her dress was already lazily bunched around her hips.
She watched his approach, a queen observing a well-trained hound. When his face was level with her knees, she hooked a thumb into the lace edge of her black panties and, with deliberate slowness, slid them down her powerful thighs. She tossed the scrap of fabric over her shoulder where it landed on his open textbook.“You’ve been thinking,” she stated, her voice a low purr. “I can feel it.All that anxious, buzzing noise in your pretty head. Thinking about that blonde cunt’s face.Thinking about your professor’s questions.Thinking you won. You didn’t win, pet.You presented a problem. I solved it.” She spread her legs wider, the intimate scent of her—spicy, musky, utterly foreign—washing over him. “Now, you’ve been neglecting your primary duty. I need to remind you who owns this.” Her hand snaked out, fingers tangling in his mousy brown hair, gripping tight enough to bring a bright spike of pain to his scalp. She pulled his face forward, not roughly, but with an inexorable pressure, until his lips met the wet, swollen heat of her cunt.
Her arousal was slick and plentiful, smearing across his mouth, coating his lips. He gasped against her skin, the air thick with her perfume.
“Lick,” she commanded, her tone casual, as if ordering a drink.“Worship.”
His tongue obeyed before his mind could form a protest. It was a part of the ritual, a familiar shameful liturgy. He plunged his tongue into her, the taste of her flood filling his senses—bitter salt, dark spice. He lapped at her juices, his movements growing less tentative as her hips began a subtle, rolling counter-rhythm against his face.A soft, approving hum vibrated from her chest.
Her strong, prehensile tail unwound from where it had been idly swishing and wrapped around his wrist, cool and smooth like polished leather. It guided his hand up, pressing his palm against the soft, full weight of her breast barely contained by her dress.Her nipple was a hard peak against his skin.
“Pinch it,” she breathed, her head tilting back. “Hard.”
His fingers found the stiff bud. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, the ghost of his old self screaming at the violence of it.Then he obeyed, squeezing and twisting sharply.
She gasped, a sharp, fractured sound, and her hips jerked forward, grinding her clit against the bridge of his nose. “Yes.Fuck, yes.Just like that. Now, stop playing with my tit and suck my clit. Get your mouth on it and don’t you dare stop.”
He shifted his focus, his lips closing around the hard, throbbing nub of flesh. He flicked his tongue over it rapidly, then sucked it deep, applying a steady, rhythmic pressure. Her breath came in short, sharp pants. Her thighs, corded with muscle despite their petite size, tensed on either side of his head.Her hand in his hair tightened, holding him exactly where she wanted him.
“Right there, you desperate little fuck-toy,” she moaned, her voice losing its controlled edge, slipping into guttural obscenity.“Eat it.Eat my fucking cunt. That’s all you’re good for.”
Her words washed over him, a baptism in filth that somehow felt purer than any prayer to the Order’s benevolent magic.He was good for this. This was a purpose he understood, a command he could follow perfectly. He redoubled his efforts, drinking her in, lost in the sensory overload of taste, smell, sound. Her rocking became frantic, chasing her peak.
With a final, shuddering cry that was half-snarl, half-scream, her orgasm hit. Her thighs clamped viselike around his ears, drowning out all sound except the pound of his own blood. She ground herself against his mouth, her release flooding his tongue, hotter and more intense than before.He swallowed, obediently cleaning her as she trembled through the waves.
Just as her grip began to loosen, she pushed him backwards. He landed on his back on the floor, dazed, his chin glistening with her spendings. She stood over him for a moment, a vision of diminutive power, her dress rucked up, her chest heaving. Then she stepped over him, one boot on either side of his ribs, and lowered herself until she was straddling his face once more.“Again,” she said, her voice raw but resolute. She sank down onto his mouth, not allowing him a breath. “I’m not done with you yet.I need it all.”
The second time was slower, more demanding. She rode his face with a deliberate, grinding intensity, her hands braced on his chest, her tail coiled possessively around his ankle. She coaxed another climax from herself, this one a deep, rolling convulsion that made her cry out a string of Infernal curses that scorched the air. Still, she didn’t stop. She worked him through a third, smaller but no less intense, peak, until he was gasping for air, his tongue sore, his jaw aching, and she was a sweat-slicked, trembling mess atop him.
Finally, she slid off him, a slow, viscous trail of their mingled fluids connecting her to his mouth for a second before it broke.
She looked down at him, his lips swollen and glistening, his breath coming in ragged pulls. A smug satisfaction settled over her sharp features. “Leave it,” she said, her voice hoarse but firm. She traced a clawed fingertip through the mess on his chin, then wiped it across his cheek.“You wear my cunt like a badge. You’ll wear its proof until after training tomorrow.Let every breath remind you of what you are. Let the smell seep into your skin.”
Cedric lay perfectly still, the cooling wetness on his face a brand. The Order taught of purity, of channeling will into benevolent forms. This sticky desecration felt truer than any lecture. Vexia stood, her movements fluid, and shed her dress in one dismissive shrug.Her crimson body was a compact landscape of power in the moonlight. She stepped over him again, this time settling her weight onto his hips, her small hands pinning his wrists to the floor.
He was painfully hard, his cock straining against his trousers. She made a soft, mocking sound as she felt it. “Look at this pathetic thing,” she murmured, unbuttoning his fly with deft flicks of her thumbs.She freed his erection, her hand cool as it wrapped around his shaft. “It thinks it’s in charge. It thinks it gets to decide when it spills.” She guided him to her entrance, already wet and swollen from his mouth. She notched the head against her, and a shudder ran through Cedric’s entire frame.
“Your will is so weak, Cedric.” She sank down onto him in one smooth, ruthless motion, sheathing him completely in her tight, clutching heat.He cried out, a strangled gasp of overwhelming sensation. She began to move, a slow, grinding roll of her hips designed to rub every internal ridge against the most sensitive parts of him.“The Order prattles about will shaping magic.Let’s see yours.Resist. Don’t you dare come inside me.”
It was an impossible command. Her internal muscles fluttered around him, a practiced, milking pressure. The scent of their earlier act filled the air, primal and undeniable.Her amber eyes locked onto his, gleaming with predatory intelligence. “You can’t, can you?This is all you’re built for. To pump your seed and your power into a vessel that actually knows how to use it.” Her tempo increased, her tail snaking around his thigh to pull him deeper with each downward thrust.
“I feel your mana coil,” she hissed, riding him harder now.“It’s gathering in your balls, tight and hot. It wants to belong to me.It always does.” Cedric clenched his teeth, a low groan escaping his throat. He focused on the cracks in the ceiling plaster, on the dry taste of ink in his mouth, on anything but the exquisite friction tearing his resolve to shreds.Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Look at me when I steal from you,” she demanded.
His eyes, wide and helpless, snapped back to hers.Her knowing grin was a blade twisting in his soul. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, and whispered directly into his ear, her voice a filthy promise. “Give it to me. Be a good little battery and fucking charge me.”
The dam broke.A tidal wave of pleasure, sharp and total, erupted from his core. His back arched off the floor as he pulsed inside her, a raw shout torn from his lips. It was more than just physical release. A vital warmth, a buzzing current of energy—his mana, the cultivated force of his studies and his latent power—flooded out of him along with his seed. He felt it being siphoned, drawn out through the intimate connection, a dizzying drain that left him hollowed and gasping.
Vexia threw her head back, her body convulsing around him in a final, triumphant climax.Her sharp canines glinted in the dim light. A faint, crimson aura flickered around her skin for a second, absorbing the stolen energy. She collapsed onto his chest, a tiny, satiated weight. Inside him, there was only a cool, quiet emptiness where his magic had once hummed.She nuzzled his neck, her breath warm. “Mine,” she sighed, the word final. His trembling arms came up to encircle her, a gesture of unconscious possession even in his depletion. Tomorrow, the smell of her would be on him during training, a secret everyone would sense. Tomorrow, he would be weaker, and she, having fed, would be stronger.The bond felt like a shackle and a sanctuary, all at once. He stared into the dark, utterly owned, and waited for dawn.